Epistulae Heroum

“But when Troy comes to mind, so do the winds and seas:
firm hope fails, overcome by anxious fears.
It troubles me too, that the winds prevent your ship from leaving:
you prepare to go with the waves against you.”

The Heroides: XIII: Laodamia to Protesilaus

Wednesday 2nd October, 1975

Remus was going to kiss Sirius Black. 

It was decided. He was going to help with this prank, get them somewhere private (hopefully more romantic than the floor of a passageway) and kiss him. On the lips. Of course on the lips! Jesus Christ, he’s not his mother! Though, from what Remus had heard of Sirius’ mother, he didn’t really think she was the kissing type. 

“So you’re really going to kiss him?” Pandora hissed, an elated grin on her face.

”Yes.” Remus nodded, firmly. On the lips.

”Ooh! This is so exciting!” She giggled, before flicking her wand and transfiguring the candle in front of her into an unusual looking muffin. She pulled a face before the applying a counter-curse, “We could have double dates. Me, Xeno, you and Sirius!”

”Yeah, that’d go down well.” Remus muttered, turning back to his paper and continuing on his analysis.

”Hey.” He felt Pandora slap him on the arm, “What happened to ‘I don’t give a hoot what people think’?”

Remus was quiet for a brief moment, staring down at his too-messy handwriting, “I don’t.” He answered. Because he didn’t.

”Remus?”

Remus looked up, mouth opening to say something but the words failing to come out.

“Come on. You’re never like this.” Pandora urged, worrying slightly at her lips.

”I dunno.”

”You ‘dunno’?”

Remus shook his head, his face some shade of trying to be blank. 

“Since when have you, Remus Lupin, not known how you feel about something?”

He stared. He stared because the answer was as disappointing as his first one. He didn’t know. He wasn’t used to not knowing. He was used to having his mind made up about a person or thing. He knew it wasn’t clever to think in black and white. But answers were easier when they were simple. Now, he didn’t know. He didn’t know because he wasn’t thinking in black and white. He was thinking in Black and Lupin. 

Thankfully, he was saved by a commotion on the other end of the classroom. He glanced over to see Mary Macdonald looking wide-eyed at her candle. It was lit. Well, lit was an understatement. The flame stood tall and wide - too tall and wide for the wick - and was an impressive bright green. 

“Miss Macdonald!” McGonagall gasped, rushing over. Mary and Lily Evans, who had been sat next to her, were backed up against the row behind, their eyes glowing green from the reflection.

“I—I… It was an accident, professor!” She spluttered as McGonagall put out the fire with an expert wave of her hand. What was left of the melted candle was also quickly solidified, to which the professor peeled straight off, “I was barely holding my wand!”

Professor McGonagall frowned at the charred circle of parchment and desk, before turning sharply around and walking straight to a group of overly-nonchalant looking boys. Remus noticed, curiously, that they each had perfectly transfigured muffins in front of them. 

“Minnie!” Sirius gasped when she slammed the hardened glob of wax onto their desk, “Fancy seeing you here!”

”Yes, Mr Black. You are in my class.” She quirked an unimpressed eyebrow. 

Sirius was about to speak again, when a furious red-head appeared at professor McGonagall’s side.

”You did this?!” Lily shrieked, looking straight at James who was gaping back at her.

”I—well!”

”You are impossible, James Potter!” She huffed, “Just when I thought you were actually not a complete and utter dickhead!”

”I’m not!” He shrilled, defensively, standing up with wide eyes, “I-I thought it was romantic!”

If possible, Lily’s face seemed to turn even redder. 

“Romantic?” She hissed, dangerously.

”Yeah! Yeah! Because—the-the green! It’s like your eyes! And like- and I wanted to be all like ‘your eyes are like fire’! And I wanted to—“ James gave a great groan, burying his face in his hands and slumping back down on the bench. Peter gave him an awkward pat on the back, face drawn into a grimace.

Professor McGonagall quirked her brow at the two, before glancing back over at the blackened desk momentarily, “All three of you will stay through lunch to clear this mess up. Ten house points will be taken. Each.”

At this, all three of them took the opportunity to groan. And, when McGonagall made her way back to the desk, Lily waved her wand and the glob of wax melted all over their books, then she turned around with a pointed “hmph!”.

*

Remus was cackling by the time the lesson finished and he made his way over to where James, Peter and Sirius were each picking the wax off of their work, one crack at a time. 

“Have you not tried tergeo?” Remus offered when the boys looked up with equal expressions of misery.

”And scourgify.” Peter sighed, “But they only work for… less dense liquids.”

“Melt it first, then.” Remus snorted. It seemed rather obvious.

James looked up and broke out into a grin, “See! This is why we need him for pranks. He’s more clever than any of us.”

”Actually, I reckon it’s just because you lot think about details too much.” Surprisingly, Dorcas said as she appeared next to him, “Lupin is just very simple-minded.”

”Thank you, Dorcas.” Remus nodded. Once again, like he often did with her, wondering if he should be offended.

”Anytime.” She grinned, patting him on the shoulder enthusiastically, “Also, I reckon Evans found your little stunt rather endearing. I was talking to Marlene—“

”Were you, now?” Remus winced as a kick landed on his shin.

”—and she said that aggressive kindness is very on-brand for her.” Dorcas supplied whilst Peter set on liquifying the wax, Sirius on tergeo-ing it.

”Really?” James gasped, leaning forwards. Remus half expected a wagging tail behind him.

“I’d say focus on actually being nice.” Dorcas told him, “It goes a long way with Gryffindors, apparently.” She shot a pointed look at Remus.

”What?” Remus quirked a confused brow.

”Nothing.” She smirked, “Just that you managed to charm these three.” Then a pointed look at Sirius. Remus wanted very badly to return the shin-kicking.

*

What’s your stance on the decline of the goblin economy and how would you improve the goblin-made market?

Good afternoon to you too.

This is important!

I wasn’t listening when we were talking about it in History of Magic.

Would this happen to be the same History of Magic you were talking to me during yesterday?

Shut up.

That’s not very nice.

Oh, please! I beg of you! Swottiest of all the swots! Help a poor damsel with his History homework.

Why am I strangely turned on?

Also aren’t damsels meant to be women?

Either you regularly have knight fantasies or you like being degraded.

Sorry?

You asked why you were turned on. That’s my best guess.

Ah. Well, then.

Are you a knight guy, Moony?

Admittedly not.

You like being called a naughty boy?

I really

REALLY

do not care for that.

I thinkyou do.

I think I don’t.

I had to suffer through writing that. You have to suffer now.

OR maybe! Maybe!

We could - i don’t know? NOT?

Hm. Suppose we should just go for the old fashioned ‘hero complex’ then.

Says the Gryffindor?

Don’t be embarrassed, Moons! It’s a biological thing. 

Us men are hardwired to want to save things.

I now understand why people don’t regularly announce when they are turned on.

And you just…

Do?

I’m learning, okay?

I was a recluse for a while.

Your poor mother.

Calm down, I was less than eleven.

Also we don’t talk much. 

I thought you said you live with her?

Salamander does get the grunt of it…

Though there isn’t really much we keep from each other.

Alright. Just glossing straight over that.

I don’t, like, give her a schedule of when I wank.

But, lets just say, there is a reason we sit together during quidditch games.

Oh!

Well.

During my quidditch games?

You play quidditch?

You know I play quidditch.

I do.

And you’re deflecting.

I am.

And I thought I wasn’t supposed to know who you are.

Padfoot?

Hello?

Naughty b

Yep. Not for us.

*

Three names were packed tightly together down by the Defence Against The Dark Arts classroom and Remus’ eyes scanned the surrounding area. There were the odd prefects, Filch was floating about near the great hall and Remus could see each of the teachers settled in their respective quarters’. 

“Hm, what is Loony Lupin doing with his map, I wonder?”

”Hello, Peeves.” Remus sighed, folding part of the map behind itself as he tried to get a better look at the Transfiguration classroom.

“Loony Lupin shouldn’t be out at this time of night.” Peeves drawled in a sing-songy voice, “Is the loony moon getting to him?”

“Dumbledore told you you’re not allowed to bring up my lycanthropy anymore.” Remus reminded him, absent-mindedly.

”Dumbly-doo’s not here, is he?” Peeves flew directly in front of Remus. He just walked right through him and grimaced slightly at the uncomfortable sensation, “Or else you wouldn’t be out of bed. Shall I get Mr Filch?”

”Shall I get the Bloody Baron?”

Peeves let out an agitated huff, a quick breeze rushing through the hallway, “And tell him what? About how I’m ridding the hallways of muddle-headed messers?”

”Yeah, that. Or about how you were the one who destroyed the trophy room last week.”

Peeves spluttered, “Wha—I-You can’t prove that!”

”I don’t have to prove it. I’m a prefect.”

It was a few moments before the ghost gave a great wail and flew off into the ceiling, Remus watched on the map as the prefects in the hallway above startled away from each other with a snort. It was also at that time he watched the dots, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew and James Potter, round the corner into Remus’ same hallway. Curiously (or not so curiously), there didn’t seem to be anyone at all.

Learning from past mistakes, Remus watched the map and walked forwards until he was as close as he could get. The air felt slightly warmer and Remus used that, and the familiar scent he now, so often, linked with mischief, to reach forwards and feel for fabric.

“What?!” Sirius protested as Remus pulled the cloak off the three slightly-crouching boys. 

“How did you—we wanted to scare you!” Peter practically stropped.

Before Remus was coming up with a response (or managing to get in a quick ‘mischief managed’), James was swiping the large parchment out of Remus’ hands and pushing his glasses up his nose.

”What’s that?” Peter asked, peering over the other boy’s shoulder.

“Is that a map?” Sirius followed, though he was looking at Remus.

”Would you—“ Remus took the map out of James’ annoyingly strong grip with a grunt, “-let me get a word in?”

All three of them looked at him expectantly.

“You have to swear down - on each others lives - that it stays a secret, though?” Remus leaned in, a severe look on his face.

Sirius’ eyes narrowed, his lips thinned as though he was trying not to laugh. James and Peter leaned in eagerly.

Peter nodded, quickly, “I have no problem putting these two’s lives at risk. Tell us.”

Remus smirked, glancing fleetingly at Sirius then back at the other boys as he turned the map around.

”Holy shit.”

”Yeah?” Remus nodded, the smirk pulling into a grin.

“What is it?” Peter asked.

”Marianne.”

“…Sorry?”

”Chantel?”

The Marauders were silent.

”It was funnier when we were fourteen.”

*

Deja vu: probably the strange feeling Remus was currently having. The four of them were tucked into the corner of an old classroom now used for storage. Lining the walls were upside-down chairs stacked on desks that looked as though they’d collapse with any more weight and there was a smell of must and old that stuck insistently in Remus’ nose hairs. James had, instead of just vanishing the dust, gathered it all into a pile in the corner, stating that they’d need to re-dust the room afterwards so nobody was suspicious that they had been there.

Now, they were all trying to fit a large amount of apricots onto the sturdiest looking desk in the room. 

That and Remus’ thigh was pressed almost entirely up against Sirius’. But that was mildly irrelevant.

“So, tell me again.” Remus muttered, staring intensely at the single hairy fruit in front of him. 

“It’s easy, really.” James grinned, ecstatic, “We increase the water content of the apricot just until its at its limit using a careful aguamenti, then we transfigure the pip into one of… these.”

“What is it?” Remus quirked an eyebrow at the thing in James’ hand. It looked like some sort of clowns nose or an oversized, red paintball.

”It’s an oversized, red paintball.” James beamed, placing it down next to one of the pips that had already been taken out of one of the apricots, “Here. Give it a try.”

Now, Remus was alright at transfiguration. But he wasn’t brilliant. Where the Marauders had gotten the idea from was absolutely beyond him, and there was no chance Professor McGonagall was bigging him up to these lot after her distinct concern over their potential friendship. 

So, Remus gave an only slightly uneasy glance at Sirius before pointing his wand at the pip on the table. He did what Professor McGonagall had taught, envisioning every layer of what the paintball would be like. The goopy dyed gelatin. The plasticky outer layer… Well, there wasn’t really much to it other than that.

“Subifors.” Remus muttered, drawing his brows together. 

Instead of a paintball and a pip, there was now a paintball and… something that would’ve been passable if it didn’t take the shape of what Remus imagined Snape’s balls to be. With that image in mind, it was not pleasant to watch the thing burst at a weak spot and bleed out red all over the desk.

“Well, you tried.” Peter offered, looking probably as disturbed as Remus.

”Are you joking?” Sirius grinned, “That was great for a first go!”

Remus felt slightly like an exhibit, at this point, given none of the boys seemed to even want to try their hand at the spell. He did it a few more times before the end product could actually hold itself together and was surprised to find that transfiguring the pip inside of the apricot was far, far harder than transfiguring one on the table. It did not help that Remus was also trying to figure out how on earth he was going to get Sirius alone. Or just how long this was going to take.

”Alright. We’ll do a test one.” James nodded, slamming an apricot in the middle of the paint-coated table and then pointing his wand at it, “Aguamenti.”

The apricot expanded ever so slightly until one bead of water pushed its way out of where the stalk had been previously and James’ looked at Remus.

”Do you want to maybe tell me what the prank is?” Remus asked, uneasily. Though, to be honest, he had a vague idea. 

“Probably best we just show you.” Sirius spoke, gesturing for him to have a go.

”Alright.” Remus sighed, “Subifors.”

The apricot didn’t change even the slightest bit on the outside, which was a good sign. James picked up a knife (Remus was slightly concerned at where the knife had come from, though didn’t question it) and sliced the apricot right down the middle. Remus watched in confusion as the middle (which was now, thankfully, a paintball) oozed out anti-climactically like some sort of horrid, red chocolate lava cake.

”Well…” Peter started.

”Perhaps we should try it with the water after the paint…” James muttered.

Peter nodded, “Yeah. That is how we did it when we practi—“

”WHEN WE—made the plan!” James interjected, loudly. His eyes were drilling into Peter very pointedly.

Remus felt slightly better about it, now knowing he actually could transfigure the pip—even though it didn’t turn out like it was supposed to. And was very chuffed with himself when he realised he was getting the hang of it with the next apricot. This time, Sirius did the water spell with a very enthusiastic point from James that he and Remus made a very good team. 

James brought the knife to the apricot and, this time, both sides of it gave a great, sloshing bang as they flew in opposite directions. It took Remus a few moments to realise that the table, the boys, his wand and himself were all absolutely covered in red paint.

“WHEYYY!” James cheered.

Sirius did not look as happy.

*

Not one person told Remus just how much excessive transfiguration seemed to tire a person out. He was doing alright, but the approaching moon and the fact it was nearly one in the morning was not doing anything for him. Remus had gotten through fifteen apricots, at this point. And about thirty-nine crises. 

When and where the hell was he going to kiss Sirius?

Would Sirius be too exhausted and push him away?

Or worse, what if Sirius was so exhausted he just went with it?

Where should he put his hands?

Where should he put his lips?

What if it’s bad?

What if something awful happens like the moon comes early?

What does Sirius think of the moon?

What if it’s too bright or too big or—or—?

What if he hates it?

What will Remus do if Sirius hates it?

The moon is so… present.

It’s been barely a month. Why does Remus feel like he can’t live properly without Sirius?

But the moon could be dangerous.

Why wont Remus just not care?

The moon has always scared people away.

Why was abnormality so important to the world?

What if the moon wasn’t safe for Sirius?

What if something happened?

What if something happened and Remus lived without Sirius anyway?

Remus thought about what Sirius had said earlier. About men being hardwired to want to save.

Why didn’t Remus didn’t want to save anyone but Sirius?

“Well, that’s certainly something.” 

“What?” Remus jolted, head turning quickly to where Sirius stood at his shoulder, peering at the table. Remus realised, with knitted brows, that he had accidentally transfigured the entire apricot, “Oh.”

”Merlin.” Sirius chuckled sliding into the seat next to him, “How on earth did you even manage that?”

”Why don’t you and the others do it?” Remus asked, though not accusingly, more observationally, “I’ve seen you in transfiguration. You’re all good.”

Sirius’ mouth seemed to open slightly, his eyebrows trying to hide amongst his perfect hairline, “Uh—I’m not good at transfiguration.”

“Yeah, you are. I think it annoys Professor McGonagall, actually.” Remus stated, looking back at the table because looking at Sirius for too long often felt like his arm hairs had been charred off.

”Well—hah, I s’pose I’m alright. We didn’t, like—as you here for noth—hang on, are you alright?”

Remus’ eyes darted up again, “What?”

Sirius looked at him, concern written obviously over his face (as though Sirius Black could do something that wasn’t obvious), “Is everything alright?”

Remus blinked, “Yes.”

”Is that the truth?” Sirius asked, plainly. Remus was reminded, vaguely, of a memory involving someone very unlike Sirius Black. Someone who knew about… about the moon and wanted a better life for him. Remus wondered if he’d care like this at all if that someone hadn’t bothered to turn up.

”No.” Remus answered, because that’s what he had told Dumbledore. But not for the same reasons as he had told Dumbledore. Not because he didn’t care enough about what Sirius thought of him. Because maybe he cared too much. 

It seemed to take Sirius a moment to respond, like he wasn’t sure what to do with Remus’ answer. 

“Would you talk about it with me?” Sirius asked. But not like he was asking Remus to talk to him, as though he was asking if Remus could talk to him.

“I want to.” He responded, plainly, “But I don’t think that I should.”

”Well, then.” Sirius nodded, a determined smile gracing his lips, “I hear that apricots are great for when you’re in your own head. James has one before every quidditch game. Obsessed with them, he is. I call it his ‘furry little problem’.”

Remus looked at him incredulously, letting out a snort, “Really?”

“Nope.” Sirius smirked, picking up the accidentally entirely transfigured apricot and looking at him, “But it got you to smile.”

And it was that very moment, with the stupid grin as Sirius hurled the giant paintball at James, whilst watching as it exploded on James’ back and James’ brain exploded inside his head, that Remus knew exactly what he needed to do.