Remus was five years old the last time he felt truly happy. A full happiness, as opposed to the fleeting glimpses of belonging being with his friends sometimes gave him. For Remus, he could forget only for so long, before the memory of what he was twisted in his gut like a stab wound. Nothing could displace it; not the marauders' endless mischief, nor their reckless quest to ease his monthly pain in forth year (a trouble not even Remus could deny was a clear proof of the love the other boys felt for him). Not Lily's quiet understanding and acceptance, or Marlene's wicked sense of humor, or even Mary, whose pointless gossip was the only real thing he could focus on after full moons. He still remembers the time she had off-handedly called Remus her favorite marauder in fourth year.
"You're probably my favourite, if I ๐ฉ๐ข๐ฅ to choose - don't tell Sirius. I mean, I love him and all, but he's a right dramatic sod when he wants to be," she had said, eyes not glancing up from her textbook as if she hadn't made him feel properly wanted for the first time in years. "And I'm pretty sure Potter is mad, no offence." She hadn't mentioned Peter, but to be fair this was the summer of '74 - back of Sirius and Mary's on-and-off fling that drove Remus mad - and he was pretty sure Mary wasn't fully aware of Peter's existance.
"None taken." It wasn't enough, nothing could ever be enough to calm the turmoil in his chest, but it was undeniable that he was becoming fond of Mary despite his petty jealousy of her and Sirius.
And yet.
The ever-present, unanswerable question - would she still say that if she knew? Would Mary, one of the most sensible, no-nonsense girls he had ever met ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ๐บ stick around if she knew the danger he posed to her? He knew he had got incredibly lucky with the marauders, luckier than he deserved, but luck had to end somewhere; it always did for the cursed. He obviously couldn't ask, so he just returned to his work with a new air of misery and a frustration at himself for not being able to hold onto anything good for too long.
He used to be able to - back before his family cracked under the pressure of their son's secret. Back before the incident he had been doted on like any son would be, and if he cast his mind back far enough Remus could remember proper, unfiltered joy. Before pain and shame and guilt, before the first silver scar appeared on his pale skin; before, when his father could still look at him without poorly disguised disgust twisting his features. Before Hogwarts' golden turrets and secret passageways and troublemaking, and most importantly, before the bite mark on his side.
"Which one, Remus? Red or green?" asked a beaming Hope Lupin, waving two brightly coloured toy trains infront of her son's face as a young Remus giggled with delight, squealing and clapping his chubby hands.
"Green tren, green tren!" exclaimed young Remus, grabbing at the toy with an undignified ethusiam. This carefree, innocent happiness felt so alien to his older self that he couldn't help but remember these moments with great fondness. This Remus wasn't angry or bitter, and he didn't have it in himself to hate the world the way his teenage conterpart did.
"Iawn, iawn, little wolf cub." Hope placated her son in a thick welsh accent. She had been trying to speak more of the language around Remus, hoping he would one day be fluent, despite complaints that it was a useless venture from her husband and the fact she had never learned much herself. The nickname, however had been around since Remus' birth, ever since Hope had discovered the mythical character Lyall Lupin had intended to name their son after. His mother had always been dubious of their son's name, as to an intensely supersitious muggle the fratricidal demise of Remus' namesake was probably a bad omen. She had apparently remained unconvinced for a long while but eventually came round to their son's unusual name, as she ending up doing most of Lyall's ideas.
It didn't matter in the end, as the nickname fell out of use a few weeks after his fifth birthday.
Back in the memory, Hope scooped Remus up in her arms and handed him his wooden toy, laughing at his aggressive ๐ค๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ฐ ๐ค๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ด as he pushed the train across the living room carpet. A perfect scene of domestic bliss.
Well, if you discount his mother's youth; just twenty-four turning twenty-five, far too young for the deep shadows under her eyes created by motherhood. She had had Remus at nineteen; a teen pregnancy, though neither Hope nor Lyall preferred to think of it as that. The wedding had been appropriately soon after Remus was concieved, in a quaint register office a few miles from Hope's parents' house. There were a few photos of the occasion dotted around his childhood home in decorative picture frames, progressively collecting dust and cobwebs. His parents looked so young in them, barely older than Remus himself. You'd think at that age they'd both be miserable at the prospect of being tied down to each other forever; yet they looked so ๐ฉ๐ข๐ฑ๐ฑ๐บ. So obviously contented in their descison to marry, his mother pratically glowing in her simple white gown. Was that love? A blind readiness to jump headfirst into uncertainty? Or was it just foolishness? After all, their domestic bliss hadn't lasted long.
A few weeks after that day Remus was attacked by Fenrir Greyback, leaving multiple silvery white scars across his body - and, of course, an angry red bite mark at his hip. His father had wept when he saw it - openly wept, ignoring his son's cries for his mother and letting his back slide down the wall, squeezing his eyes shut as if trying to pretend it wasn't happening. As if ๐ฉ๐ฆ were the child. Hope had arrived seconds later, gathering Remus' tiny body up in her arms and shushing him as he begged her to make it better. She had almost cried too when she saw it. Remus still remembered Hope's wail of horror when her hand brushed against the ugly wound on her son's side, followed by heaving, shaking breaths like someone had just pushed her head underwater. He can't imagine what it must have been like for his mother; a muggle with no knowledge of werewolves besides stories for children. He doubts she knew they were real before that night, considering the effort his father goes to to hide her away from the magical world, forever using the excuse of ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ต ๐ธ๐ข๐ฏ๐ต๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ธ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ณ๐บ ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ. For all she knew, her son had been stabbed. Maimed. Branded, even, by a psychopath or a gang leader or an escaped convict.
She had ๐ฏ๐ฐ ๐ช๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ข.
"Lyall, ๐ฑ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ข๐ด๐ฆ." his mother begged over and over as the hours ticked by, the three of them sat on the bloodied bedroom floor, 5-year-old Remus still bawling like a baby from his mother's arms. His father did nothing. Never looked up, never opened his eyes once, all the while shaking and sobbing into his hands. "๐๐ฆ๐ญ๐ญ ๐ฎ๐ฆ what happened," Nothing. "๐๐ญ๐ฆ๐ข๐ด๐ฆ." Hope didn't scream, still didn't cry, but she spoke with enough raw pain to cause their son to wail louder from her arms. His father winced at the sound, burying his head deeper into his hands. "Who did this, Lyall, do you know ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ฐ?" Lyall flinched, looking up for the first time that night, horror painted all over his face. "You do, don't you. Please, Lyall, ๐ฑ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ข๐ด๐ฆ, I'm begging you. ๐๐ฆ๐ญ๐ญ ๐ฎ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ฐ ๐ฅ๐ช๐ฅ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ด." Nothing. His mother began to raise her voice. "Your son is bleeding out ๐ข๐ด ๐ธ๐ฆ ๐ด๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ข๐ฌ, please Lyall. I don't know what to do. Tell me who did this to him." she begged. But Remus could see from the way his face contorted with anger that his father would not lower himself to such injusiciousness as lending his wife his pity.Or maybe was just too much of a coward to speak the reality of the situation out loud. Either way, he was up in a second flat, fury written all over his face, flying out the room and down the staircase faster than a bloody snitch. A few seconds of his father's angry footsteps echoing through the house, then the distinctive slam of the front door. He had just ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ง๐ต.
Remus likes to think it was guilt that sent his father out the room that night - because he, unlike Hope, must have known the moment he saw the bite. He had ๐ง๐ข๐ช๐ญ๐ฆ๐ฅ; in saving his son when he had the chance, in arresting Greyback, in doing all he possibly could to prevent this. But a small part of him wonders if his father already felt the shame and distate for Remus then that he so obviously feels now. If he couldn't bear to be in the same room as him, now that he knew what his son was.
Neither Remus nor Hope found out what that bite mark meant until Lyall returned a few days later. She had hidden it, but Remus knows his mother cried then.
This train of thought was silly, anyway. He didn't know ๐ธ๐ฉ๐บ he was thinking about this, eleven years later and laying on his bed in a goddamn magical castle, miles from home. He supposed it was because, despite his life having considerably improved since that night, he still couldn't escape the curse he aquired when he was five years old. The pain and fear of that night had followed him from his rural hometown in Wales all the way to Hogwarts, his one chance at life. Or at least, it was supposed to be.
Remus still had vivid memories of the first time he had heard of Hogwarts. Dumbledore had visited the Lupins personally about a week after the arrival of his hogwarts letter, having pre-empted his parents' aversion to sending their class XXXXX rated dark creature of a son to boarding school. Remus remembers peering through the gap in the door, praying that whoever this man was he hadn't come to take him away - because even then, he knew deep down that he was different, that he was dangerous. He knew every time one of his classmates stared at his scars or parents ushered their children away from him like he had a disease. He knew that he didn't belong so well it may as well be printed on his eyelids, knew that kindness and understanding in this world were reserved for the non-cursed, so it truly came as a surprise when the old headmaster spotted him through the doorway and - instead of slamming it in his face for eavesdropping - invited him in to come and talk with the adults.
"Really Headmaster Dumbledore, it's a kind offer, but our son cannot go to any boarding schools. We - his condition -"
Dumbledore paid no mind to Hope, a glint in his eyes that Remus had since discovered meant the old headmaster was going to get his way. He then - to the young, friendless werewolf's great surprise and delight - turned to Remus.
"Now then, Mr Lupin, how would you feel about coming to join my boarding school in the autumn. I hear you are already showing strong signs of magical ability - my cirriculum is especially designed to nuture that flame inside of young witches and wizards. You would flourish, Mr Lupin, if you don't mind my saying."
Young Remus shook his head. "I'm not a wizard, sir, I think you've probably got me confused with someone else. And I'm too dangerous to go to a boarding school. "
This did not deter Dumbledore, who seemed to appear even more pleased by Remus' self-flaggellation. "I assure you, Mr Lupin, you are a wizard, and quite a promising looking one at that. And I can guarantee, special measures are being put in place so you will be able to attend despite your affliction." He turned back to Remus' parents, addressing Hope alone. "I promise you, Mrs Lupin, Hogwarts is the safest place on earth."
๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ด๐ข๐ง๐ฆ๐ด๐ต ๐ฑ๐ญ๐ข๐ค๐ฆ ๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ฆ๐ข๐ณ๐ต๐ฉ. At first, he had really believed those words, letting the idea of a place where no-one had to know he was different give him hope. Surely if Hogwarts was safe, then he didn't have to worry about hurting anyone. Surely he, in turn, could be safe too.
But it was a lie - nothing had ever felt more like a lie as he remembered James' cries of pain and the flashes of Snivellus' horrified face that stuck with him even weeks after the moon. And worse, so much worse, the pure glee he felt racing through every part of the wolf as he chased his best friend through the forbidden forest. Remus would have killed James, and he would have ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ซ๐ฐ๐บ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ช๐ต.
No, Hogwarts was not safe at all, not since Remus stepped through it's gates six years ago, and the threat he posed only grew every year with him as the wolf became older, stronger, ๐ธ๐ช๐ญ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ณ. He honestly didn't know what Dumbledore could possibly see in him, just how gifted the headmaster must have thought he was when he met Remus all those years ago if he had managed to just ๐ฐ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฌ the boy's condition. Surely no amount of magical spark could make up for the fact that Remus' mere presence at Hogwarts endangered everyone within the castle walls?
The funny thing was, before Sirius' little prank he had constantly worried about a situation not dissimilar to the one Snape found himself in, especially since he began leaving the shack with the marauders every full moon. The school was filled with people - with ๐ค๐ฉ๐ช๐ญ๐ฅ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฏ - and any one of them could sneak out of bed past curfew, slip out of the castle. He had thought about it far more times than he should have; a lonely first year seeking solitude in the castle grounds, a newt-level student plagued by insomnia, a daredevil venturing into the creepy, abandoned forest at the outskirts of the school. And why not on a full moon night, just to add to the kicks? The different scenarios blurred and mixed into each other in his head, all ending in the same round, scared eyes as Remus lashed out at his defenceless victim like the rabid, terrifying monster that he is.
He wonders if Sirius had seen it, too. That sometimes Remus felt that his bookish, kind demanour - his entire ๐ญ๐ช๐ง๐ฆ was merely a coward's facade; a mask for a dangerous beast to cower behind. As if his wolf was always lurking in the shadows, and Remus only had so long until it took over who he was. Until he was as terrible a person as Fenrir Greyback.
He wonders if Sirius had seen all that, and intended to ๐ฑ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ท๐ฆ ๐ช๐ต.
**โพ**
"Ill ๐ข๐จ๐ข๐ช๐ฏ, are we Remus? Funny how often this cold of yours keeps resurfacing. How inconvient for you - we all know how very dedicated you are to your studies."
"Why don't you just fuck off, Snivellus?" Came James' very eloquent response.
In the weeks leading up to Sirius' betrayal Snape had become increasingly interested in Remus' monthly disappearances. He had begun dropping the odd comment about Remus' condition that had nausea rising in Remus' stomach and his pulse quickening, racing away with his imagination. He didn't know, of course, - or at least that's what Remus told himself - couldn't know unless someone told him. ๐๐ฉ๐ช๐ค๐ฉ ๐ธ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ญ๐ฅ๐ฏ'๐ต ๐ฉ๐ข๐ฑ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ฏ, Remus berated himself.
The day of the full moon was no different, with Snape cornering him and his friends on their way to first lessons. (sans Peter, who was at an early morning chess club practise)
"Oh, believe me Potter, I don't want to be stuck here dealing with vermin anymore than you. I don't particularly enjoy hanging around with lesser kinds, unlike some of us." sneered Snivellus, never once taking his eyes off Remus. It bothered him, of course it did, but what bothered Remus more was that he could practically feel Sirius' anger radiating off of him in red hot waves. This comment was not about Remus' odd behaviour around full moons, that much was clear. If there was anything Snape liked more than making jabs at Remus about his mysterious illness, it was making jabs about his blood status.
And equally, if there was anything Sirius hated more than Snape, it was blood supremacy.
"You're a fucking hypocrite, Severus, you know? Do you really think you can just bullshit your way out of blood status? You're just as ill-blooded as the rest of us." Remus knew that Sirius sensed the impact of his words, could smell his best friend's delight at hitting Snape's sore spot. "You know it, your so-called friends know it, and your pretenious Dark Lord knows it too."
"How dare you -"
"Just admit it, Severus. You're replaceable to them, just because your last names not on a fucking list. The old families will never give a shit - to them, you're nothing but a snivelling, greasy pawn."
Something worried flashed behind James' eyes, and he quickly tugged his best friend back a little. "Hey Pads, maybe rein it in a little." His voice was calm but hard, always trying to dissuade Sirius from potential disaster when he got too cruel. Remus doubts James was all that concerned about Severus' feelings, but he understood targeting his blood status was wrong. Alas, Sirius never quite learned James' knack for discerning such trivial matters as right and wrong.
"He'll be okay, won't you Snivellus? Haven't you heard Prongs, he'll always have Evans to go and snitch to." Sirius smirked, watching the pain of his words contorting the slytherin's features. "Or did she finally tire of your blood supremacist bullshit?" It was common knowledge Lily had cut contact with Snape about a month earlier, after he called her that awful word infront of a crowd. It had been quite the event, and Remus was still plagued by the memories of Lily's breakdown in the library a few days later. He wasn't quite comfortable with Sirius using it as cannon fodder for a petty argument with Snivellus, of all people.
Snape quickly recovered, despite the admittedly low blow from Sirius, and had readjusted his facial expression into something much more vile, a hint of condescensionย twisting at the corners of his lips. "You know, I'd be more worried about what you say, Black. You're not protected from it all just because you're inside Dumbledore's castle." Severus' gaze turned to Remus, disgust written all over his face. "And don't think you're safe just because you have Potter and Black to hide behind, Lupin. The Dark Lord will make sure mudbloods and their associates get what's coming for them." He took a step closer, eyes glinting with pure hatred. "Merlin, you're so ๐ฑ๐ข๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ต๐ช๐ค, Lupin."
"Shut up." James' hand was on his wand pocket in a matter of seconds, righteous Gryffindor anger shining in his eyes. But James didn't get the chance to curse the living daylight out of Snape, as Remus is sure he wanted to, because Sirius was already there, wand pressed against Severus' throat as he backed the slytherin against the wall. He spoke in a low, threatening voice, assesing Snape as if he were his prey.
"I'm sorry, Snivellus, I don't think I quite got that. Care to repeat yourself?" Even if he wanted to, Remus doubted Snape could answer if he tried, the way Sirius' wand dug into his throat. "Say it again, ๐ ๐ฅ๐ข๐ณ๐ฆ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ. Go on." He paused to watch Severus squirm, maniacal grin sprouting on his lips like an animal baring it's teeth. "It's alright Snivellus, I don't bite, promise. Go on, repeat it. To his face, there's a good boy." He goaded, using his wand to turn Severus' head so he was looking Remus in the eyes.
Remus felt he should probably tell Sirius to drop it. He'd made his point, and nothing good could ever come from him being like this; when his anger was so loud it was quiet, when he was so out of control he was calculated, crazed, even. But he also knew that trying to stop Sirius now wouldn't end well. Remus had known him for years, and if there was one indiscernable fact about Sirius Black it was that he could never just leave well enough alone. And besides, Remus knew, deep down, that this wasn't really about him - Sirius was doing this mainly out of anger towards Snape and his prejudices then he could ever be doing it for Remus himself.
Sirius was now looking considerably less manic, but his wand was still practically wedged in Snape's throat, and his eyes were ice cold.
"You can't, can you?" A crazed laugh escaped Sirius' lips. "Because you're a ๐ค๐ฐ๐ธ๐ข๐ณ๐ฅ, Snivellus, and that's all you will ever be." Sirius pressed on with something akin to glee in his voice. "It's funny, how little we value those insignificant, everyday things until they're gone, you know Severus? The ability to walk, talk, eat..." Sirius dislodged his wand from Snape's adam's apple and dragged it down his neck. "I learnt quite a few nifty little spells in my time as Black heir. It would be a shame to waste them on a greasy git like you, but desperate times..." He moved his wand down further still, onto Snape's torso, eventually resting it above his heart. All traces of mirth vanished as Sirius pressed his wand into Snape's chest; his body practically revolting with barely restrained rage. Remus knew that look, knew Sirius' anger like the back of his hand, having been both it's witness and victim many times before. Sirius black did not make empty threats. "Don't you ever fucking breathe his name again."
"You're bluffing, Black."
"I could make you choke on your own blood without ever staining my own hands, my own name. I could scatter your organs to every corner of this castle and still keep you alive for ๐ธ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ฌ๐ด. I know, I've ๐ธ๐ช๐ต๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ด๐ด๐ฆ๐ฅ horrors too terrible to speak aloud and learnt about magic too dark, too fucking twisted and too powerful to ever be performed without sending the caster mad or ๐ฌ๐ช๐ญ๐ญ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ them." Sirius grinned; threatening and hollow and scarily befitting of his last name. "Unless, of course, you are a Black." Snape's eyes widened and he seemed to choke a little on his next breath. "Never even look at Remus again. You don't deserve the air he breathes."
Remus expected him to curse Snivellus then. Sirius was never one for walking away from a fight even when he was thinking clearly, which he obviously was not. But of course, Sirius Black was a force onto himself. He instead whispered the stunning curse with a hard coldess to his voice that stunned the rest of the room into silence. This behavior was so opposite to the boisterous troublemaker the world knew that even James understood not to get involved. All Remus could do was simply watch as his best friend leaned in closer to a - visibly disgusted - Snivellus and whispered something in his ear with a cruel smirk. Then it was over: Sirius had lifted the charm and was already storming away, murder in his eyes. James and Remus himself followed in tow, shooting each other confused glances as Snape began to run after them, shouting questions at an unbothered Sirius.
"What the fuck do you mean, meet you -"
"Save it for later, Snivellus, I'm tired of your voice."
๐๐ข๐ท๐ฆ ๐ช๐ต ๐ง๐ฐ๐ณ ๐ญ๐ข๐ต๐ฆ๐ณ. Merlin, how could Remus have been so fucking stupid?
In the days that followed, Remus wished and wished with everything in him - like most who had watched their life being ripped apart would - that just one part of the whole altercation had gone differently. That Snape hadn't chosen the day of a full moon to confront them. That James had got to him first. That Peter, who was the most level-headed marauder by far, and who surely wouldn't have let Sirius deal with Snivellus that angry were there with them. But most of all, Remus wished that ๐ฉ๐ฆ wasn't the way he was. That he could've used his head for just two minutes and realised that while he was busy - busy ๐ต๐ณ๐ถ๐ด๐ต๐ช๐ฏ๐จ Sirius, something he rarely ever let himself do, he was destroying everything Remus had ever let himself believe in. If he had felt how he was supposed to, how it was appropriate for teenage boys to feel about each other, then maybe he could have seen the real threat in Sirius' malicious behaviour.
The stupid thing was that, before his betrayal, Remus viewed what he and Sirius had as deeper than blood and bones. Deeper than who both pretended to be, than the scars marring both their bodies. Deeper than veins carrying Sirius' own curse and Remus' frantic heartbeat every time their shoulders brushed and pranks and lessons and their pasts. Deeper and further than the magic that lived underneath their fingertips and the ugly beast it twisted Remus into every month, and everything that made them both damaged. To him, it had seemed like an indisputible fact; Remus Lupin ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐จ๐ฆ๐ฅ by Sirius Black's side. And he loved it there, allowed close enough to Sirius to feel his heat, no longer a distant star. Sirius was the sort of person made for orbit, for spinning Remus' head around until he felt dizzy and for being close but never close enough. But what Sirius did give him - stupid jokes, cocky smiles and late nights smoking in the astronomy tower - mattered more than how much Remus wanted to reach out and touch him. Because deeper than flesh and skin and Sirius' broken pieces and Remus' naive crush was their ๐ง๐ณ๐ช๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ฅ๐ด๐ฉ๐ช๐ฑ, on of the only things he could rely on, could trust. Or so he thought.
"If you so desperately want to continue sticking your elongated nose where it's not wanted, ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ข๐ณ Severus, wait by the whomping willow tonight at dusk. Then we'll see who's pathetic, won't we Snivelly?"
Those were the words Sirius had whispered in Snape's ear that night, thirty-three of them in total. Remus knew because he had been lying in his bed thinking about nothing but them for the past few weeks. Well, not exactly; he had forced himself to go to lessons as soon as he healed after the full moon, much to the distress of James and Peter. He's sure Sirius would have protested this descison too if he could - he had certainly looked like he wanted to when Remus turned up at Transfiguration barely a full week after what was objectively the most painful night of his life. But he was painfully aware now more than ever that his position at Hogwarts was lying in the balance - Sirius had at least reminded him that he could never take anything for granted again. If and ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ฏ Dumbledore decided that his encounter with Snivellus justified his expulsion on the grounds of the protection of his fellow students, the education Remus had recieved so far would have to be enough. He would make it enough.
And anyway, Sirius had no right to be concerned. He thrown that all away, he hadn't he? In just ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ณ๐ต๐บ-๐ต๐ฉ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฆ ๐ง๐ถ๐ค๐ฌ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ธ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฅ๐ด.