Chapter 5
While he continued to hang out with his friends, his friendship with Sirius was inherently strained. Many a times, Remus could feel Sirius’ eyes on him as they sat at opposite ends, but not once did he acknowledge the stares. Let him stare for once, let him feel the pain of going unnoticed for the first time in his life — though, Remus highly doubted that he’d have the same impact on Sirius that the other had on him.
For the most part, Remus avoided being alone with Sirius, and it didn’t come as a surprise to him how easy it was to do that; Sirius was avoiding him too, after all. James served as the greatest buffer between the two, and when he wasn’t around, chances were, neither was Sirius. On the rare occasions that even Peter was absent from their side, Remus would willing lurk off by himself, not sparing a second glance back at the other. At some point in time, Remus’ heart stopped aching for Sirius.
It was one of the aforementioned rare occasion that had Remus perched up on the beams of the Astronomy Tower that night. He’d left the dorm room upon Sirius’ entrance, after noting that neither James nor Peter were tagging along behind him. Sirius had called out to him, probably to make another snarky remark that he’d been doing as of recent, but Remus had closed the door on him before another word could leave those lips.
The beams were his favourite place. Atop the beams, Remus could see everything. He was a good twenty feet away from the ground from where he sat, and because the ceilings converged into a triangular roof top, he was shrouded in darkness by the shadows. It felt like he was back under James’ invisibility cloak, and the sense of freedom it gave him, was indescribable.
He was drifting off into a nap when the incremental volume of footsteps thudding up against the stairwell rang out. Opening his eyes, Remus pushed himself up against the tilted beam by his back, and he squinted down into the darkness, where the room was only illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. The doors creaked open, and a familiar figure strode into view.
They - Remus and Barty - had arrived at some sort of a stalemate after their last encounter. Where they had spent the past weeks flinging curses and hexes at each other as they passed in the hallways, they were now reduced to insults and non-harmful jinxes that left Remus in stitches and suppressed laughters. He wasn’t sure if the same could be said for Barty, who more often than not was already sporting a smile on his face despite his actual feelings, but Remus reckoned that he was probably having just as much fun despite their mutual hatred for each other.
He was different today though, Remus noticed, as he watched Barty make his way to the open arched window. His steps were heavy, quite unlike how he usually moved, and even from that far up, Remus could spot the tension in his body. His shoulders were bunched high, fists clenched to his sides as he walked, and upon arrival at his usual spot by the window, Barty punched the stone-bricked walls.
There was a crack, and Remus saw the subtle wince in his back as he held his fist in place. His arm shook with his heaving body, and Remus could hear him struggle to regulate his breaths. He was intruding, that much was clear. He hadn’t meant to, he was there first for fuck’s sake, but nonetheless, he felt like he had intruded. Barty wouldn’t act like that if he knew that he wasn’t alone; he had to go, but how?
A groan sounded out from below, and Remus looked down as Barty pulled his fist into his free hand, surveying the damage. He could smell it, the blood that had sprouted from the wounds, and he felt a twinge of pity for the younger in his chest. He might be incorrigible, he might be an absolute shite show, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that the boy had his problems. Maybe all it took was a werewolf.
Barty slid down to the ground with his back against the stone walls, and with a huff, he brought his open hands up to his face, where he sat with his head tilted towards the ceiling. His injured hand was in full view now, and wanting to gain a better view, Remus squinted, leaning forward ever so slightly with his hands against the beams for support. For the thousandth time, Remus made the wrong move, and a loud creak resonated through the otherwise silent room.
He froze, body half leant forward and legs dangling beneath him, just as Barty bolted to his feet almost. “Who’s there?” He pointed his wand up towards the ceiling, and although Remus knew he couldn’t be seen, he flinched.
He sat in stilled silence, hoping that Barty would eventually play it off as the natural creaking of wood with age, but of course, it was Barty he was talking about. Instead of brushing it off as he had hoped, Barty casted a spell up towards the ceiling, and it narrowly missed Remus by a quarter of an inch before erupting into a sizzle of sparks as it rained down from above him.
The sodding idiot shot a spark at him. The deranged motherfucker shot a spark up towards wooden beams. Flammable wooden beams. “Are you fucking insane?” Remus shouted down, disbelief crowding out his initial decision to remain hidden.
“I’ll shoot another spark up if you don’t reveal yourself,” Barty warned, his signature deranged smile back on his face after successfully garnering a reaction. Well, there was nothing Remus could do now, not unless he didn’t mind being engulfed in flames.
“Uh… Wolfie?” He tried, an attempt at relieving the tension, though that soon proved unhelpful when Barty’s body stiffen at the mention of his nickname. He didn’t say anything, just continued squinting up into the general direction of where Remus sat, and Remus brought himself back down with a silent spell, albeit unwillingly.
When his feet touched the ground, Barty immediately rounded upon him. With a wand pointed at his face, Barty strode forward, forcing Remus to walk backwards until his back hit the wall. He had his left arm held over his throat, not quite pressing, but not without pressure. Now, Remus wasn’t necessarily a coward, but Barty? Barty really did scare him sometimes. “Were you spying on me?”
“No?” He furrowed his brows at the question, “I was here first, how could I be spying on you?”
Barty narrowed his eyes at him, the ends of his chocolate brown hair bushing against his forehead at the proximity. It wasn’t really the best time for the realisation, but Remus couldn’t help noticing how fluffy his hair stood despite its straightness.
“Fair enough,” Barty’s voice broke him out of his own thoughts, and Remus’ gaze flitted back over to match his gaze. They were brown, much darker than his own eyes, and really, there must have been a better time for all that looking. “Why didn’t you come down sooner, then?” He asked, finally pointing his wand away from his face, and gesturing it towards the ceiling.
The arm against his throat was still there, and Remus swallowed despite himself. His eyes followed the direction of the wand, just so that he had something other than Barty to look at, and he bit down onto his lower lip in consideration. Why hadn’t he — because he’d never seen him that upset before that it scared but intrigued him? Because he wanted to see how badly injured his fist was after the crack?
“Uh… In case you cursed me,” he eventually settled on, because while it wasn’t the truth, it also wasn’t a lie.
Barty dropped his arm then, his face contorting into a frown as he took a step back. Remus took the breath that he’d been holding - unconsciously, at that - and he watched as Barty began to shake his head with a light chuckle. “Right, okay,” he said with a further few steps back, and was that—, there was something in his expression that Remus couldn’t quite place.
With a sigh, he plopped himself back down onto the ground where he laid with his back against the floor, and Remus took to follow after a slight hesitation. He hovered beside Barty for a minute, and when the other didn’t turn to look at him, he sat down by his side, legs crossed and hands in his lap. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Barty turned his head slightly to face him, eyelashes fluttering as he opened his lids to look at Remus. Under the light where he lay, his eyes took on a warmer brown, like milk chocolate, and Remus subconsciously took his lip between his teeth. There was a continued silence as Barty looked up at him, and Remus down into those eyes, and maybe, just maybe—
A scoff broke through Barty’s lips, snapping him back into reality. “Even if I have something to talk about, what makes you think it’ll be with you? We aren’t even friends, Wolf.” The words were harsh, but Remus supposed that Barty was right. They had been at each other’s throat for years now, if anything, they ought to be enemies rather than friends. Though, Remus couldn’t remember when he last felt so comfortable with someone he wanted to bludgeon.
“Yeah?” he replied, bending over by his waist such that his face hovered over Barty’s. He revelled in the way Barty’s pupils dilated at the sudden approach, mischief coursing through him. “We’re more than friends, aren’t we? I’m your wolf, you’re my dog…” He trailed off, smiling down at the other who was still staring at him with a wide-eyed gaze.
The surprise was soon masked over into a smirk - Barty’s signature smirk- and he pushed himself up with a propped elbow. Remus involuntarily leaned back with bated breath, aware that their sudden proximity had sent his heart questionably hammering against his chest, and he watched the other’s lids flutter as he gazed back at him.
Barty raised his right hand towards Remus’ face, robes sliding down his arm, and his eyes were instantly drawn to the damage on his fist. Without a second thought, the heart hammering spell that Barty must have had him under broken by his surprise at the extent of the injury, Remus reached for his wrist for a better look, and his world turned white.
The pain was instantaneous as the sharp silver made contact with his open palm and fingers. It shot through him like a javelin plunged through his flesh, and it was a million needles piercing him in succession. Stab, stab, stab; the pain came in crashing waves, and Remus had thrown Barty’s hand away just as quickly as the other had wrung it back from his grip.
“Fuck! That hurt, Lupin!” He could hear Barty’s muffled shout from beneath the ringing in his ears, but it didn’t matter, nothing did; he couldn’t be found out.
Remus forced his eyes opened, where they’d been squeezed shut in pain just moments prior, and Barty was sitting upright beside him, his own wrist held between his fingers. Barty was looking at his hand, and though he had a palm pressed over the burn, Remus moved his hands away from Barty’s gaze. He could feel the blisters forming, could feel the fire licking against his flesh, but he kept his eyes trained on Barty; he couldn’t be found out.
“Did I hurt you?” Barty asked, gaze flicking up to catch Remus’ eyes. “You held—, I might have twisted your wrist when I snatched my hand away—, did I hurt you?”
Remus shook his head before Barty could cast his gaze downwards again, and summoning all his effort, he pushed himself up to his feet. The pain was spreading, it was pounding against his head, it was eating his hands alive, but Remus pushed on. He held his hands behind his back, biting down on his lip hard to suppress the groan.
“Your hand,” he nodded his head towards Barty’s arm, and he, too, shook his head.
“Just a sprain, I can fix it.” He raised his arm in portrayal, and Remus winced at the colour it was starting to take on. There were splotches of red and purple around his wrist bone, but just by looking at Barty’s face, he wouldn’t have had suspected that he was injured. “Your hand looked red, did I scratch it by accident?”
He sounded sincere. At least to Remus, he did. So, he didn’t know. He didn’t make the connection between the silver bangle on his wrist and Remus’ palm. He called him Wolfie, but it was just out of spite, for fun. He didn’t know. That was fine, the pain was fine, as long as he didn’t know.
Remus nodded tersely, looking down at the other. “Yeah, maybe just a cut or something,” he said, and before the other could speak, he interrupted him. “Look this is completely unrelated, but I have to go.” He took a step back, eyes still fixed on Barty’s, and when the other made no motion of replying, he turned around with his hand cradled to his front, away from view.
Once he made it down the stairwell, Remus turned his attention to his hand. His open palm was scattered with pulsating blisters, each so severely swollen that it looked ready to burst. The pain had since subsided, but with all werewolf-related injuries, he knew that it’d be awhile before he recovered. With a shaking breath, he made his way towards the Hospital Wing, where he just knew that he’d receive a berating from Madam Pomfrey for his carelessness. To that, even he couldn’t refute. How had he not realised that Barty was wearing a silver bangle on that while?