Epilogue
A fork loaded with mash and gravy was halfway to his mouth when a familiar tawny owl came flapping over to where he sat, a red envelope more than half its size clutched between its talons. The owl released the envelope directly over his plate of food, and with a loud splat as the paper made contact with the mountain of mash, Romulus - yes, his parents did name his childhood owl after his mythological brother - flew away.
Remus froze, hand still raised halfway in the air mid-feed, and his eyes flickered between the vibrating envelope, and James and Sirius who were seated directly opposite from him, with similar looks of surprise plastered across their faces. Six years. Remus had went through six years of Hogwarts without a Howler, while his friends collected them as if they were trophies. Remus, the good boy, the once-prefect, it was finally his turn to receive one.
Peter, who was seated next to him, nudged him by the elbow, and Remus finally placed the fork back down onto his plate. With tentative fingers, he lifted the flap of the envelope, and the Howler rose into the air. The nattering of students fell into a subdued silence as they too caught sight of the rising envelope, and the entire student body and faculty waited with bated breath and anticipation as the Howler cracked its lips open with a cough.
Silence ensued, and then, it began; Remus wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
“REMUS JOHN LUPIN, ARE YOU A BLOODY HOOLIGAN?! TELL ME WHY I WAS AWOKEN THIS MORNING BY AN OWL I HAVE NEVER SEEN IN MY LIFE, DELIVERING A PICTURE OF YOU WITH A CARTILAGE PIERCING MAKING ALL THAT—, ALL—, ALL THOSE GANG SIGNS!!”
His friend gasped in their seats at her words, and Sirius and James made quick work of clambering out of their seat and over the dinner table to get to him. Peter and James tucked his hair behind each of his ear to find the aforementioned piercing, and he could even spot Lily and friends leaning over to catch a glimpse from where he sat. He wasn’t paying attention though, how could he, when his mother was still rambling on for the whole school to hear?
“HAVE YOU JOINED A GANG, REMUS? DID THOSE MOB FRIENDS OF YOURS—, THE PIILAGERS? RAIDERS? WHATEVER CRAP THEY CALL THEMSELVES PUT YOU UP TO THIS? MERLIN’S BEARD! THEY ARE A GANG, AREN’T THEY?! REMUS JOHN LUPIN, YOU ARE FUCKING TOAST WHEN YOU GET BACK HOME, YOU HEAR ME?!”
The letter shredded itself up into nothingness, and for a good long moment, the Great Hall remained in subdued silence. Then, a loud barking cry of laughter resounded out from the other end of the hall, and that was catalyst enough to send the entire student body into varying fits of laughter.
“We’re a gang, pads!”
“When did you get a helix piercing?!”
“Pillagers—,”
Remus wasn’t listening, no, no, no, he was certainly not. There was only one single person in the entire school, one singular arsehole in the whole entire world that knew of the piercing besides himself, and that little tattler happened to be the little piece of crap fuck whose laughter was ringing out above all the others.
“I’m going to kill him,” Remus whispered under his breath, fist clenching in his lap as he raised his head. His friends shared a confused glance between themselves and Remus looked up to glance at them. “I’m going to curse the bollocks off of that bloody tosser.” He pushed himself up from his seat, and without a further explanation, he strode over to the Slytherin table.
He ignored the stares and whispers as he made his way over to their end of the Great Hall, and when Barty noticed his approach, the laughter only grew harder and louder as Remus pulled out his wand. Once within arms reach, Remus pressed the tip of his wand into Barty’s jugular notch, leaning over across the table to sneer at him.
He shouldn’t have trusted the younger when he insisted on taking more than a single photograph of him with the new piercing. He just knew he should have ignored and turned a deaf ear to his many pleas and requests to mimic his hand gestures. He should have bloody known by now that the damn twat would always find a way to take the piss out of him. Boy, was he an idiot, and to think he trusted him with the piercing. Did he even look good?!
“You sickening little bastard!” He exclaimed in disbelief, digging the wand further into his skin, which only made Barty lean back in laughter. His hands were now gripping the edge of the table in a white-knuckled hold, and from his peripheral vision, he could see the bemusement in Regulus’ eyes. “You actually tattled to my bloody mam?!”
A soft cough rang out from behind him, and as Barty doubled over into laughter, hand now clutched against his stomach, Remus was filled with a sense of dread. He turned around, slowly, and it was none other than the Headmaster who was smiling down at him. Remus cleared his throat, despite the desperate want to smack Barty across the head, and stood up to his full height as he greeted the Headmaster.
“Mr. Lupin, sorry to interrupt your conversation,” he gestured between Barty and him, “but I couldn’t help but overhear that you might have an article that is against the dress codes here at Hogwarts.” He gave his own ear a soft flick with an index finger, and Remus had to clench his fist to stop himself from bludgeoning the twat behind him who was whimpering in suppressed laughter.
Remus tuned to glare at him, and oh, oh! Sweet, sweet vengeance, he thought as he caught sight of the glistening metal peeking out from black hair. Well, two can play the game of tattler. “I do, sir,” Remus said, turning back to regard the Headmaster. “But I think it may be pertinent to your knowledge that Mr. Crouch here has an industrial piercing.”
Barty shot up from his seat with a gasp, betrayal, Remus supposed, “You fucking tattler!” He exclaimed, as he threw a roll at his head.
With a scoff, Remus bent over to pick the roll back up from the ground, “You tattled first!” He tossed the roll back at Barty, aiming for the head, hard.
Before Barty could return the throw, the Headmaster cleared his throat, calling their attention back to him. “I think this will be best discussed in my office after supper. Mr. Lupin, let’s get you back to your table,” he gestured towards the direction of the Gryffindor table, escorting him back to his seat like he was a criminal before Remus could retort against the tongue that Barty stuck out at him.
Sirius wasn’t at the table when he returned, and James and Peter explained that he had left for the dorm since he wasn’t feeling well, though it wasn’t without a shared glance that Remus pretended not to have noticed. He settled himself back down in his seat by Peter’s side, and it was only after much persuasion that Remus finally relented and shared the story of his new piercing with them.
Talking to his friends about Barty was weird, considering that they were more often than not on opposite ends of a confrontation; but for what it was worth, James and Peter took to the revelation that they were friends kinder than he had expected. There were a few more curious looks at his piercing by the other students sat in their vicinity, and Remus finally left for the Headmaster’s office after sending his friends off with a packed box for Sirius. They might not have returned to talking terms, but they’d been friends for years, he could do as much for Sirius.
─── ⚔︎⋅☾⋅⚔︎ ───
Expectedly, their piercings were confiscated. Barty was first to handover his much beloved piercing, and when it was Remus’ turn to part with his new accessory, he had to face the utter humiliation of nudging Barty with his foot for help. “Please help me,” Barty had feigned ignorance until Remus spoke the words aloud, and judging by the smirk on his face, he was having way too much fun with the situation.
Once out of the room, Remus was the first to begin the assaults. He landed a firm slap against Barty’s back as they left the office, and the latter had jumped in surprise at the sudden assault. “What the fuck, Remus,” he shouted, reaching an arm to his back to rub against the soft spot as Remus glared at him.
“I had the piercing for one day,” he waved his index finger at him, annoyance bubbling as a smile crept up the other’s face. “One day and you got it bloody confiscated!” With another smack against his head this time, Remus stalked off.
Footsteps followed shortly from behind him, and Barty was soon stepping in front of him. “You got mine confiscated too!” He shouted, crossing his arm over his chest as he regarded Remus with a raised brow.
“And you bloody deserved it too,” he planted his palm over Barty’s face, blocking his view, before stepping aside to carry on his way. Except, Barty reached out to grab him by the wrist, pulling him back into a standstill. There was a twinkle of mischief in his eyes, and Remus stilled; he was missing something.
“My dear Wolfie,” his voice was sickeningly sweet, and Remus felt dread pool in his stomach. “My dear, dear, Wolfie, I don’t care about my piercing being confiscated, it’s you I’m worried about.” He paused, and when Remus showed no indication that he was following with the conversation, Barty pulled him in close by the wrist..
An arm was snaked around his waist, as another hand reached for his face, the calloused pad of a thumb stroking featherlight touches across his cheek. He glanced back at Barty, heat pooling in his cheeks despite having been in that position too many times than he could count, and the latter leaned over to press their lips together into a quick peck.
“Wolfie, my dear,” he whispered against his lips, pale pink melding into deep red, “You just got your favourite thing to touch while we are making out confiscated, you nitwit.” He pulled away, before leaning back down to nibble against the spot on his ear where the helix piercing once sat. Remus shuddered in his arms, and before the words could sink in, Barty placed a kiss by his temple and left with a wave.
Remus was left to his own devices, standing in the middle of the hallway pot the faculty building, heat pooled in more places than one. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair that Barty just left him all hot and bothered outside of the Headmaster’s office without warning. He should have done the same back to him, should have nipped him back on the shell of his ear, should have ran his tongue over the industrial piercing in the way he knew Barty liked—, and oh fuck.
He had gotten the industrial piercing confiscated. His favourite accessory of Barty’s was now in the hands of a century old man. He was now without a industrial bar to fondle when they were making out.
Fuck, fuck, fuck! He really was a fucking nitwit.