Epistulae Heroum

“Why, unless you’re ignorant of how furious the seas can be,
do you so often, so wrongly, trust the waters you’ve tried?”

The Heroides - VII: Dido to Aeneas

Wednesday 18th September, 1975

Remus woke up that morning feeling - to put it simply - like crap. He felt like the whomping willow had grown teeth, a digestive system and an arse hole just so it could chew him up, choke him down and shit him out. He felt like it’d jammed one of its branches down his throat. And he had a headache. And his nose was blocked.

Brilliant. Just bloody brilliant.

The thing about werewolves, is that they got over colds, coughs or flus a lot quicker than everyone else. But it’s like all of the things he’s supposed to feel over the span of a week are compressed into two days. Two agonising days of pure torture where his brain felt like mushy peas.

He had tried, believe him. He’d gotten up that morning, as feverish as he was, nicked a pepper-up that only seemed to give him more energy to feel the suffering and dragged himself to breakfast. Then Remus had proceeded to stare gormlessly at his eggs, imagining them as eyes staring up at him, waiting for him to face-plant into them.

”Blimey, you look horrible.” He vaguely heard Pandora comment as she sat down across from him. He gave a mindless grunt in response.

”The moon’s nowhere near, is it?” She asked, squinting her eyes as she thought in a way that somehow made Remus’ headache more painful.

”I’ve got meningitis. Or malaria. Or something I’m gonna hopefully end up dying from.” He murmured, just about managing to scoop beans into his mouth.

”Right, then.” She nodded, “As long as we’re not being dramatic.”

”I think my eyes have been turned inside out. Can eyes turn inside out? My throat as well.”

Pandora let out a bark of laughter, “If you think you’re going to class like this…”

Remus grumbled and waved his hand, “We’ve got Binns first, I’ll just sleep then.”

And he did. He slept through the class. Then the one after it. And the one after that because not one person thought it would be a clever idea to wake up the clearly-out-of-place fifth year that was sleeping in the back of a first year History of Magic class! He didn’t know if he was more annoyed at the prospect Binns didn’t notice him (though that was no surprise) or the fact Pandora or Dorcas or fucking anybody hadn’t bothered to wake him up!

That was, of course, until period four when the fifth year Hufflepuff and Gryffindor class shuffled in and he felt something weighted on his shoulder.

”Merlin, he’s boiling! We can’t just leave him.”

”We could.”

”Oh, shut up, Pete.”

“He helped us. Least we could do is help him.”

”You’re too nice, James.”

“Well, Sirius, you’re just scared he’s your—“

“SHH! Will you shut your gob?!”

Remus finally found it in him to stir, forehead aching from both the headache and being pressed against the desk for a prolonged amount of time. He squinted his eyes to see three familiar boys stood over him. James Potter, a hand still on Remus’ shoulder. Peter Pettigrew, looking as though he was thoroughly bored. And Sirius Black, staring frantically at his mate.

”S’goin’ on?” He managed, sounding painfully hoarse.

”You were asleep, mate.” James tried, kindly, giving him a pat on the shoulder, “From the class before, I think.”

Remus, still dazed and a little delirious, stared at him blankly.

“I… don’t think you’re well.” He carried on, looking more concerned. 

“Sherlock Holmes, ev’rybody.” Remus murmured, then went back to where it was cozy, laying his head on his arms.

”Woah, woah. No, come on.” James laughed and Remus felt a tug on his arm, “Let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey.”

”Who’s Sherlock Holmes?” He heard Peter faintly mutter.

Remus didn’t really remember much after that. He remembered the difference in how his feet felt when he first stood up to when he got to the hospital wing, the ache from walking such a distance on dead legs making it rather difficult to concentrate on much of anything. He remembered the silent presence of Pa—Sirius and he remembered feeling utterly dejected that the other boy wouldn’t speak. 

“Oh, Remus.” Madam Pomfrey tutted, holding the back of her hand to his forehead, “What are we to do with you?”

”Sorry, Poppy.” Remus mumbled. He heard a snicker come from the boys behind him.

She rolled her eyes and guided him to his usual bed. It was the only one without a window behind it to help with the drilling headaches and his daylight-sleeping for mornings after moons. He settled down with a grunt, trying his best not to make a fuss though severely failing. 

“What have I told you?” She fussed, marching around the bed and waving her wand to summon various potions and run diagnostics, “Any sign of illness and you come straight to me.”

”I thought it wus’fine.” 

“Mm. And, I suppose, that’s where half of the pepper-up I brewed last night has gone. Thought you’d make a trip on your own, did you?”

”Mgh.” Remus shifted into the bedsheets and instinctively wrenched his tie off, undoing the first few buttons of his sweat-soaked shirt.

He heard someone clear their throat and his eyes blinked open to see the Marauders were still present, Black looking a bit pink-cheeked as he looked down for Remus’ modestly. 

Seeming to remembering that they were there, Madam Pomfrey let out a huff and a nod in their direction, “I appreciate you bringing him to me, boys.”

”He may be clever but he can be very stubborn sometimes.” She added with a pointed nod, Remus flipped her off behind her back which drew a chuckle from Potter, “You best get back to lesson. I imagine you didn’t find him during a free period?”

The three Gryffindors muttered something vague in response, trying to brush it off.

”Hm. Well. Off you go.” Madam Pomfrey said and Remus watched each of them scuttle out like herded sheep. Well, that was except for Sirius who he saw stand still for a moment, still watching Remus with that unusual quietness.

”Is he alright?” Black said after a beat. 

A sympathetic smile grew on Madam Pomfrey’s face, “He’ll be fine. Just a cold.”

”Are you—are you sure? It doesn’t look like…”

”I promise you, Mr Black. He’ll be right as rain after a good sleep and some potions down him.” She insisted, placing a hand on his shoulder.

”Alright.”

Sirius finally disappeared behind the curtain and Remus let sleep take him, dreaming of pretty black hair and a robbed outspoken voice speaking ridiculous nicknames.

*

His head was heavy like someone had poured cement over it. The first thing he thought was, “Don’t make me wake up.”, but his eyes forced open as he realised he could breathe out of his nose again. It was only one nostril but he still took deep breaths, revelling in the feeling and cursing his past self for not being more grateful for the ability to breathe clearly. Some point during his being dead to the world he must’ve shucked off his school shirt and Remus didn’t complain, grimacing at the sight of the wet garment on the floor.

Remus had forgotten what it was like to be ill. He was pretty sure the last time was when he was in third year and caught a bug off of Dolohov and was rendered practically unconscious for two days with Pandora forcing shit down his throat at every opportunity. She seemed to have the same idea now.

”Finally.” She said, appearing in front of his open eyes, “You know, I nearly suggested Poppy put you in a feeding tube. I thought you’d be out the rest of the night.”

”What time is it?”

Dismissing his question, she dredged up a plate of food from god knows where and continued, “I’ve brought you all the red meats I could and some chocolate because I know you’d kill me if I didn’t.”

Pandora, rather inconveniently, placed the plate down next to his face on the bed. Remus felt his stomach implode in on itself.

“And I also brought you this.” 

Remus sat up almost immediately, unforgiving to his head, but uncaring as he snatched the book out of her hands. The writing on the side was glowing. Remus patted down his pockets to withdraw his wand.

”Merlin. Someone’s eager.”

Morning, Moonshine.

In period two. It’s a nightmare.

Honestly, you’d think they’d charm these chairs to be comfortable.

How’s lesson for you?

Everything alright, Moony?

Shit. He’d completely forgotten to talk to Padfoot this morning before lunch. Remus took his lip between his teeth as he muttered the charm to turn his wand into a felt-tip before putting it to paper.

Shit. Sorry.

Really busy day.

He stared at the page for a moment, as though expecting Padfoot to reply straight away. He didn’t, of course. Remus couldn’t expect him to just be waiting by the book every day. So, for his own sanity, he closed it and shoved his wand back into his pocket.

”Trouble in paradise?” Pandora smirked.

Remus rolled his eyes, “He’s just wondering where I’ve been.”

”Godric. Do you really talk to eachother that often?”

”Can we please lay off the scolding? I’m a sick man.”

”Funny how you insist on being dramatic yet never ask for any help.”

Remus scowled at her.

“Anyway, do you think you’ll be well enough for the party on Saturday?” Pandora asked, suddenly quite sheepish. Curious.

He raised an eyebrow in her direction, “I should be. This normally only lasts a couple days.”

“Why?” He added, the smirk off her lips now gracing Remus’.

”Well, I just—“ Pandora shrugged, pursing her lips in her best attempt to remain unbothered, “I was just wondering.”

”You know, I do seem to remember—“ He was cut off by a cough, “-Dorcas saying something about a particular reason you might be attending?”

There was no response.

”I can’t help but wonder… Does this have anything to do with the reason you were so… worked up about the whole Lestrange thing?” Remus asked, carefully.

She looked up at him, pale brows wrinkled, “…Not really.”

”Not really?’

Again, she seemed more sheepish, glancing towards the sliver in the curtain as though scared someone would walk in, “I was thinking... Well. I do think—that I should maybe not say yes to my mother. And that maybe what you said about there not being anyone who would be perfect and that maybe I should just try and accept whatever flaws they may or may not have could’ve been sound advice… maybe?”

Remus tried his best to hide the smug smile. But, ultimately, he did not.

“Alright. Laugh it up.”

”No! It’s not—I’m not laughing.” Remus said, interrupted yet again by a sore cough causing him to grimace, “I think that—maybe it’s good you’re giving yourself options.”

”Pandora?”

”Pandora, talk to me. What is it?”

She looked up from where she had fixed her gaze on her fiddling hands, “It’s… I just—I want to make her happy.”

“Sometimes, I think, you’ve got to be a bit selfish.” Remus told her.

At that moment, the writing on the spine of the book in his hands began to glow again. Pandora raised an eyebrow at it, before looking back at Remus.

”Like how you’re being with Padfoot? Not telling him any of your… problematic qualities?”

Remus just sighed, “Yeah.”

”Like how I’m being with Padfoot.”

Don’t worry about it.

Just glad you’re alright.

How was your day, anyway?

Good! For the most part.

A bit unusual in places.

But alright.

I’m glad.

What are you up to?

Currently in a mountain of magazines.

Prongs would like to ask out the girl of his dreams by making a letter out of the cut out words.

…

Like a serial killer?

I did mention this to him, yes.

He said it’s only dodgy if you make it dodgy.

I told him pining after a girl for five years is dodgy enough.

Well.

At least he’s passionate?

I’m just glad he’s not gay.

And why’s that?

Because I would most definitely fall for it.

How are you so sure he’d be interested in you?

How could he not be?

I’m brilliant.

…

Right.

Moony?

Yeah?

Are you jealous?

What?

Of prongs.

Are you jealous?

No!

No! I’m not jealous! 

You went strangely quiet for a bit there.

Yeah! That was because I was taking the time to thi

try and

see if you were being cocky or

or something

You are so jealous.

I don’t like you.

Yes you do.

You like me so much.

So much that you’re jealous of Prongs.

I’m going now.

Good point, actually.

Prongs wants a cheeky snog.

Tell him to save one for me.

WAIT

YOU CAN’T JUST

Remus closed the book, giggling to himself given he did not want to address whatever feeling that was. It was not jealousy! It wasn’t. He glanced up to find Pandora had already busied herself with whatever homework they’d been given that day. Remus knew this because it was entirely new material. He, sorely, made a mental note to catch up on it later.

”So.” Remus began, clearing the frog in his throat with a wince, “Who’s this mystery bloke, then?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Pandora smirked, looking up from her work, “You’ve yet to tell me who you think book boy is.”

Remus rolled his eyes, immediately regretting it with the twinge that shot through his skull, “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

”Right.” Pandora nodded, closing the book on her lap with a smile, “Xeno Lovegood.”

Remus raised one brow, “The ravenclaw in the year above?”

”Yep.” 

“Isn’t he that one lad who tried to argue with McGonagall that monocle-wearing pixies stole his coursework?”

”Hey! What happened to ‘there’s no such thing as normal’?” Pandora argued through a scoff.

”Well, there’s normal and then there’s factually wrong.”

”Can you prove pixies don’t wear monocles?”

Remus thought about it for a moment, then eventually shrugged, too dead-brained to argue.

”Thank you.” She nodded, “Now. Who do we think Padfoot is?”

He pursed his lips, thinking hard on it. Did he really want to put it out into the world? There was still one more potential Padfoot to investigate, if you didn’t count Lockhart. And Remus really didn’t want to count Lockhart. 

He let out a huff, running his hands over his face then turning to Pandora again, “Sirius Black.”

Immediately, her eyes widened and she let out a breathy laugh of disbelief, bringing her hands to her mouth.

“What?” Remus asked, quickly.

”Nothing! Nothing—it’s just… he’s one of those Marauder boys, isn’t he?”

”Yeah? So what?”

”So what?” Pandora laughed, “Remus, they’ve been sneaking into your dorm to bug Snape for the past five years!”

”So?” 

“Half of the reason the school still has a vendetta against us is because of their pranks.” 

Remus paused, shoulders going stiff. He hadn’t thought of it like that.

He shook his head, “He’s not—he told me he thinks the whole ‘evil Slytherin’ thing is a stereotype.”

”Well, he must do if he’s still talking to you.”

Remus didn’t respond, his stomach twisting and pulling.

”He does know you’re a Slytherin, doesn’t he?”

He covered his face with his hands, leaning back into the bed.

”Oh, Merlin sake, Remus.” Pandora sighed.

***

Thursday 19th September, 1975

Remus had been discharged to his own bed the night before on a prescription of both a dreamless sleep and extra strong pepper up potion and an order to stay there until Friday. His dorm mates had, thankfully, been fast asleep or not there at all when he’d gotten back and, after a long conversation with Padfoot (one in which he distinctly chose to not think about his guilt), he’d finally drifted off.

“Oi.”

”Oi, Loony.”

“Loony, wake up.”

Remus let out a croaky groan into his pillow which turned into a yelp as he felt someone slap the upside of his sore head.

”Loony!”

”What the fuck.” Remus rasped, squinting his eyes as he rolled onto his side.

”Wake up.” It was Crouch, “We need you to piss off.”

”You piss off.” Remus managed, laying his forearm over his eyes to try and soothe them, “S’too early.”

”It’s four in the afternoon.”

”I’ll four your afternoon.” He grumbled, dazedly, feeling chuffed as though it were the best comeback he’d ever come up with.

”What the fuck are you even on about.” Crouch scoffed, flicking his arm to which Remus thrust it back up at him, “Get up.”

”Go and shag your boyfriend somewhere else.”

Silence.

Remus rolled onto his front again, digging his forehead into the pillow as far as it could go as though it’d swallow him up.

“I—that’s not-” Barty spoke, quiet.

”M’not gonna say anyfin.” Remus muttered into the pillow, “Just lemme sleep.”

Remus hummed contently as he finally got the silence he wished for. Crouch seemed to linger for a moment, though Remus was too delirious to distinguish why, before the whoosh of closing curtains sent Remus back off to sleep.

***

Friday 20th September, 1975

Remus’ body forced him to fully wake up at around three in the morning after a constant stream of interrupted sleep and Remus, being the ridiculous swot he is, took Miranda and headed down to the library. It was a brilliant kind of peaceful that seemed as though it existed to settle the remnants of his headache. Thunder rolling through the walls and rumbling underfoot yet the rain not yet pattering.

One of Remus’ favourite things about his lycanthropy was his ability to see in pitch black. To see what others can’t. It was ironic, really. Given how Dorcas felt about his perception skills. Plus, it was handy when you didn’t want to be caught by a certain jowled caretaker. 

The library door gave a ridiculously obnoxious creak that Remus hoped, had anyone heard it, they’d be stupid enough to blame the wind for pushing the 150 kilogram hunk of mahogany. He went straight into the restricted section, as he usually did when breaking curfew (it wasn’t like he’d get in any less trouble and it was much more interesting). However, as he did, he was interrupted by the sound of - what could’ve only been - the flick of a page being turned.

He stopped dead in the middle of the library for a few agonising moment and then, once he had come to the conclusion he was not about to get caught, began to peer into the separate aisles. 

There. At least a dozen stacked books and the light of an oil lamp reflected against silky black hair. Remus almost laughed. My lord. 

He really was quite beautiful, Sirius. Remus found himself studying where the shadows that fanned over his cheeks were blended and where they were harsh, where one of his eyes was cloaked by part of his hair and where the colours on his face shifted from natural to glowing gold from the fire as though Remus were an artist trying to copy him to a canvas.

Remus had always had a vivid imagination. He’d had to—his childhood stories were not of Goldilocks or Little Red Riding Hood, they were of Orpheus and Jupiter and of doomed lovers that communicated only through cracks in walls and wars that stemmed from a mortal woman being promised to another man. And he wished he could say any of the images his wondrous, child mind made to fill the spaces of these empty characters held a candle to the boy in front of him.

He wished, because hope was too dangerous a territory to wander into.

Because, if he hoped that Sirius - as otherworldly as he was - was the boy he had been feeling such new and terrifying things for, Remus didn’t want to deal with the fallout. For once, he was not afraid of hope letting him down. He was afraid of it being true.

How was he expected to look into a face like that and admit all of the things that could send him running in the other direction? Running and taking Remus’ solid feelings to leave him with only the horrid, sappy ones. 

“Hello?”

All that was heard next was a clatter against his side. Remus surged his hands forwards as though that would do absolutely anything for the sound that the books he’d just knocked over made.

“Bugger!”

”Who’s there?” Sirius demanded, firmly. Remus realised, fleetingly, that he was now standing.

“I said who’s there?”

”Me! Me—sorry.” Remus managed, stumbling over the fallen books and trying to balance awkwardly on one leg. He reached out to the desk that lined the bookshelf on the other side to steady himself before looking up and coming face to face with Black, holding his lantern up and squinting his eyes.

”Lupin?” He asked, taking a step closer to Remus.

Remus glanced back with a grimace at the toppled over books before offering a sheepish smile. 

“Shit. You’re on patrol.” Sirius immediately began, bunching his shoulders up as his head whipped between the books he was sorting through and Remus, “I—I’ll be out in a minute, I promise. Just—! Er, James’ll kill me if I’m in detention for the pa—this thing happening this weekend. I’ll just… You know what? I’ll clear up now. Please just pretend I wasn’t-“

”I’m not on patrol.” Remus blurted out, hoping to stop the god-awful panicking Black was doing. 

“You’re…” He turned back to Remus with a raised eyebrow, “Not on patrol?”

”No.”

”Right.” Sirius nodded, eyes narrowed in suspicion, “So why are you in the restricted section in the middle of the night?”

Remus pursed his lips, giving his best nonchalant shrug and frown.

“For—uhm… Nefarious purposes?” He tried. It was strange. He found himself lying for the sake of if Black was suspicious of Remus being Moony then he’d be less inclined to match the whole ‘swot’ thing up. Though, there felt like another reason. A reason he wasn’t familiar with.

He watched the dark-haired boy try to smother a smile, “Nefarious purposes?”

”Y-hem—Yep.” Remus nodded, clearing the frog in his throat.

”And what might these ‘nefarious purposes’ be?” Black smirked.

”Oh—y’know… Evil… things…” 

“Lupin?”

”Mhm?”

”Did you, a prefect, sneak into the restricted section after curfew to read?” He asked it in a way you would a small child if they were the one who’d drawn on the walls or had cut off all of their Dancerina’s hair. 

“Yeah…”

Sirius nodded in a way that would be patronising if Remus didn’t find it terribly endearing, “Well. I reckon that’s a good enough excuse for us to both blackmail each other into saying nothing?”

As it turned out, Black was quite content to let Remus join him in, what Remus had found out was, his search of the recipe for exploding macarons to sneak onto the dinner tables some point soon. It was a small prank, apparently. One that Sirius said James referred to as a ‘bite-size’ prank. Both literally and figuratively. 

“You seem to have come off that illness rather fast.” Sirius spoke after a prolonged silence of them both flicking through various books.

“Oh, yeah.” Remus replied, looking up to give him his full attention, “They, er, hit hard then go quickly.”

”D’you get ill a lot?”

”No! No. Just how it’s always been. Since I was small.”

Black nodded, glancing down to his book, “I wanted—I was going to come and check on how you were doing after we left but your girlfriend was there and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Remus’ eyes snapped wide, his brain going a mile a minute, “My… Oh! You mean Pandora! No, no! She’s—hah—she’s not my girlfriend.”

”Oh.” Sirius said, his eyebrows raising as he looked back at Remus, “Sorry. I just assumed… I saw you giving her a gift or something in potions the other day and I thought-“

”No!” Remus laughed, far louder than he should’ve, “That was—that wasn’t. I’d been a prat and needed to make it up to her. Everyone always thinks we’re together, though. Don’t—don’t worry yourself.”

Sirius looked back down at his book and nodded almost thoughtfully, “So you’re not… going out with anybody, then?”

Remus stilled for a moment. There’s no way Sirius was about to…

”No.” Remus said. Then, because he was feeling unusual, “Why’d you ask?”

Sirius’ eyes snapped to him and, for the briefest of seconds, Remus felt something unspoken in the air. Like the other boys eyes were asking for Remus to reach into his brain and pluck the answer out himself.

“No reason.” He eventually shrugged, “Just… curious.” A smirk made it’s way onto his lips, “I’m not surprised, though. Apparently you’ve got a reputation.”

Remus let out a groan, leaning forwards to bury his head in his arms on the desk. 

“What?” Sirius laughed, a pretty thing.

”I am not a manslag.” He murmured, muffled by his arms which drew another laugh from Sirius.

”Really, I’m not!” Remus continued, sitting up again and looking pleadingly at Black.

“What? You just got the reputation by chance?”

”Do not—! Do not grin at me like that, Sirius Black.” Remus said, smiling despite himself, “It’s… It’s a long story.”

“Well, good thing we’re in a place full of those.”

Remus shook his head as he chuckled, “The problem is… I’d have to lie to you if I were to tell it.”

”So this is an ‘I’d have to kill you if I told you’ situation?”

”Not quite as dramatic.”

“Then why don’t you tell me?”

“Well…” Remus sighed, looking at Sirius curiously, “Strangely, I believe I care what you think.”

“Then why don’t you? Lie—that is.”

He paused, trying to decipher what on Earth was going on in his mind amongst the remains of the dreamless sleep potion, his mildly blocked sinuses and his strange wide-awake-ness at four in the morning.

“Because, well, I don’t think I want to lie to you.”