Moony
October-November, 1975
Remus
The pair settle into a sort of routine, though they never actually mention it. Remus has a free hour before lunch that he spends every day in the library, at the same table, where he often stays throughout the lunch hour. At least two days a week, Regulus joins him, and they study their respective subjects in almost complete silence. The only time they speak is if one of them needs help, which they’re slowly beginning to get better at asking each other for. Remus finds that even though Regulus is a year below him in academics, he can be quite helpful.
More than once, they walk together to lunch, keeping a respectable distance between them, and usually never saying anything. One or more of Regulus’ friends often join them on this walk, and Remus assumes that they probably think he just happens to also walk the same path to lunch at the same time most days, seeing as they never acknowledge him.
They split ways without a goodbye at the entrance to the great hall, and the one time James asks why Remus sometimes comes in with Black, he brushes it off with that very excuse. We just walk the same path sometimes. It eases the glare that Sirius shoots between his friend and brother, and Remus realizes why James even bothered asking, because Sirius would never bring the younger Black up in conversation on his own, and nothing good would come of that festering in his mind for too long.
There are some days that Remus avoids the library for his free hour, the days when one of the other boys has the map. He’s its usual keeper, but sometimes James or Sirius will take it in the morning for some small-scale prank that they don’t need the whole group for. And if Regulus is disappointed when they go longer than a week without studying together, he doesn’t say it, but Remus notices that the younger is more amicable when they see each other next.
The first time Regulus makes small talk, Remus swears he almost falls off of his chair.
“Are your sweaters handmade?”
“Uh… My? What?”
Regulus rolls his eyes, and if Remus wanted to lose an eye of his own, he might point out that he does so in the exact same way as his older brother. Over-exaggerated and dramatic, but not lacking the smoothness that comes naturally in the way they do everything. Remus mentally rolls his own eyes, much less gracefully. Bloody aristocrats.
“Your sweaters. Where do you get them?”
“Oh. My mum makes them.”
“Hm.”
And that’s apparently the end of that, because Regulus goes back to writing his essay, leaving Remus staring dumbfounded at him. He almost offers to give Regulus one if he likes them, but he doesn’t think they’re that close yet. With some amusement and some fear, he thinks interacting with Regulus is a bit like playing some verbal form of Russian Roulette. With a pang of concern for himself, he realizes that he quite enjoys it.
December 3rd, 1979
Regulus
After a month of searching tirelessly for a way to destroy the locket, Regulus has been forced to admit to himself that he’s in over his head, and there’s only one person to whom he’s ever been able to admit when he needs help. He’s been watching the flat for a few days now, trying to catch Remus leaving, unable to enter the wards himself, but he’s only ever seen his brother coming and going. At some point the day before, Regulus had started to wonder if perhaps the couple didn’t live together, but then he’d caught sight of Remus through the open door, just briefly, as Sirius slipped out. The tall man had been hunched over the floor in the living room, pouring over dozens of books and stacks of parchment.
It’s a full moon, he knows Remus will be leaving soon, but he also knows that he won’t have any time to speak to him when he does, and that Sirius will be with him anyway.
Regulus is about to turn around and leave for the day when the front door opens. Remus steps out, finally, his tired form hunched over, drowning a worn brown sweater that Regulus recognizes as one his mother knitted him for Christmas in his fifth year. He frowns, displeased with the knowledge that Remus doesn’t fill the fabric out the way he had just a few short years ago, when he should’ve outgrown it by now.
Before he can move forward, out of the shadow he has himself disillusioned into, Sirius follows Remus out of the flat. His brother’s face is lit up with a wide grin, laughing as he leans into his boyfriend, looping his arm through Remus’. Remus smiles softly, ducking his head to kiss the other. The couple walk a few paces ahead, exiting the wards around their home before disapparating.
The scene gives Regulus a moment of pause. He thinks of Barty and Evan, who believe him to be dead. Of Pandora, who he hasn’t seen in nearly a year. Of Dorcas, who, when he last spoke to her before they left school, told him with deadly conviction that she wouldn’t hesitate to kill him, would they ever meet on the battlefield. He can’t ask Remus to give up his friends, his family, to follow Regulus on a suicide mission. But he has to.
Sirius returns only a few minutes later, face sour, dragging his feet as he enters his empty home.
Wait, what? Regulus stiffens, only briefly wondering why Padfoot wouldn’t be with Moony tonight. Then it clicks. The Dark Lord had mentioned something about Greyback, about a pack of werewolves joining their cause. Of course Dumbledore wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to place a spy among those ranks. Frankly, Regulus is sick to his stomach at the idea of his friend being put in danger like that. He could punch the old headmaster right in his wrinkly face for pushing child soldiers around like expendable pawns.
He takes a long look at the flat across the street, setting his jaw in determination before disapparating.
January 2nd, 1980
Remus
It’s the fifth moon that Remus will be joining Greyback’s pack. He has nothing to take with him but the clothes on his back. Not even his wand, which he always leaves in the flat with Sirius. He’s about to walk out the door without saying goodbye to the older man when Sirius comes around the hallway so fast they nearly crash into each other.
“I’m sorry,” he blurts.
Remus stares at him. “You’re sorry.”
Sirius nods, swallowing harshly. “I know you don’t like that you have to do this any more than I do and I know I’m the one that talked you into it, but I just get so worried on the nights you’re gone.”
“I’m not mad that you worry for me, you realize that, right?” Remus sighs.
Sirius nods again. He looks down at the floor, his cheeks tinted pink with a bit of shame. “I know. I didn’t mean to imply that the werewolves are dangerous. I just meant… I just meant that you would be in danger if the ones loyal to Greyback caught on to what you’re doing.”
“You apologize,” Remus scoffs, “and then you go on about the same exact things you were saying earlier.” He reaches for the door handle, but Sirius steps in the way.
“No!” He cringes. “It’d be no different than if you were spying among the human death eaters, Moony! They’d kill you if-“
“They'd kill me because I'd be a threat to their security, because that's how they have to live so that they don't die! I’ve told you that you don’t understand what it’s like for them! People like Greyback aside, most werewolves would never harm a human unless it was in self-defense. I have more to fear from half the people in the order if they were to find out that I’m a werewolf than I do from the pack if they were to find out that I hang around wizards, you realize that? Sirius, I appreciate the optimism in you thinking that if I can convince the pack to fight for us then humans will accept them more, but that’s just not going to happen-”
Sirius makes a noise of frustration at that, losing his own temper now. “Then why are you still trying, if you don’t think it’s worth it?”
“Because they’re my people, Sirius!” Remus steps away from him, and from the door. “I can’t just not try to save as many of them as I can. Even if I can’t get the ministry to treat us right, the more of them I can convince not to fight for Voldemort, the more of them I’m saving from spending the rest of their lives in Azkaban if we win this war!”
“We’re your people.” Sirius frowns. “James and Pete and I. Lily. The baby. You don’t even know any of them-”
“I don’t have to know them to understand them!”
“Understand them? The ones fighting for Greyback? For Voldemort? The ones killing muggles and biting wizards?”
“This is what I mean by you not understanding!” Remus throws his hands up in anger. “Every time this comes up, more and more recently, it’s like we’re having two different arguments and I just don’t have time for it right now!”
With that, he shoves past the other man and out the door, disapparating as soon as he’s out of the wards. He tries not to let it sting that Sirius doesn’t call after him.
January 3rd, 1980
Regulus
Regulus pushes away from the wall he was leaning against in the shadows as soon as he hears the crack of apparition. Grabbing at Remus’ arm before he can enter the wards that prevent Regulus from getting any closer to the flat.
Remus struggles, throwing an elbow back into Regulus’ throat, but the younger doesn’t let go, disapparating with another crack before Remus can shout and alert anyone nearby.
They land hard in the alleyway a few miles from the Manor. He overshot the destination while attempting to keep his grip on Remus.
“Who the fuck?” Another elbow hits his chest, knocking the wind out of him and forcing him to let go.
“Remus, wait!” He yells before the other can disapparate yet again.
There’s stunned silence for only a beat as Remus whirls around to look at him. “Reg? What the fuck?” He stumbles back several steps, which stings, admittedly, but at least he’s not trying to run.
Regulus hold up a hand, unfortunately the one with his wand, in a ‘pause’ gesture, making Remus take another few strides away from him before he realizes that the younger isn’t trying to curse him.
“What the fuck, yourself, Lupin,” Regulus wheezes, other hand flat on his chest as he still struggles to breath.
“You… You’re- Regulus, You’re…”
“Alive?” He supplies.
“Yeah, alive,” Remus chokes out. “Like, really alive? Wait, no, wait-”
“Do take your time having a crisis, Lupin, don’t mind dying me here.”
“Wait. What subject were you studying the first time we met in the library at school?”
Regulus wracks his brain for the answer. The Summoning Charm? He thinks. He says as much. Remus exhales like he’s been punched in the gut, shoving a hand roughly through his unkempt hair. Regulus truly feels sorry for how rough he looks, clothes bloodied and hanging off most of his body in shreds. If he could’ve done this any day other than the morning following a full moon, he would’ve. At least he’s spent it with a pack, so he’s uninjured, save for a few bumps and scrapes.
“Reg-”
“You hit hard for someone so fucking bony.” Regulus desperately attempts to stop any waterworks before they start. If Remus starts crying, he’ll vomit. Merlin forbid the older man tries to hug him. He still can’t stand to be touched. Not that he’s been working on it, holed up in the manor, one of the Black family’s many unused properties, all by himself means that there’s not exactly many opportunities to be around other people anyway.
Another breath comes out of Remus pretty harshly, though this one is more akin to a laugh. “Am I supposed to be sorry for injuring my kidnapper?”
“Generally not, no.”
Another beat of silence. “Are you going to explain all this, or…” he trails off, gesturing vaguely.
“If you wouldn’t mind allowing me to apparate us to my manor just a bit further away, then yes.”
“You think I’m gonna-”
“Remus, not to be that person, but if I was going to hurt you, I’d already be doing it. Especially after you’ve hit me twice now. Also, it’s cold out here.”
Remus seems to consider his argument for a moment, then realize that he’s got limited options. He could disapparate, but Regulus is betting on him being too curious to just run away without knowing what’s going on. After a moment, he steps just close enough to the younger to be within arms reach.
Regulus feels only a bit smug. “Good thing you’re not a cat, Lupin.” The joke clearly goes over his head, but he doesn’t look confused for long before Regulus is grabbing his wrist and taking them to the manor.
Once inside the sitting room, Regulus summons Kreacher and asks for some tea. He lights the fireplace with a flick of his wand and gestures for Remus to sit down, which he does reluctantly.
“Where’s your wand?” he inquires.
“At home,” is the short reply.
“You really shouldn’t have told me that. I could mean you harm, and now I know you’re unarmed.”
“You said you didn’t mean me harm,” Remus stiffens.
“I could have lied. Honestly, Remus, and you’re supposed to be the smart one of your little group of marauders.”
They sit in silence until Kreacher returns with the tea, and Remus is obviously hesitant to take the cup offered to him, but he eventually does, if only to get the elf to stop staring blankly at him while holding the tray out.
“I believe you,” he says finally, staring down at the cup. Then, he takes a confident sip. “I don’t think you want to hurt me. So, you better start explaining what the fuck I am doing here. What you're doing here, and not, like, six feet under.”
Regulus’ lips twitch upward. “You’re not in a rush to get home to my brother, are you?”
Remus sucks on his teeth before answering. “No. I’ve got all day.”
Interesting, Regulus thinks.
“Good, because this will take a while,” he sits in a chair across from Remus. “I’m not telling you specifics straight away though. You’ll get those if, and only if, you agree to help me, and you swear a vow of secrecy.”
Remus takes a moment to accept this answer. “Alright.”
“I’ve found a way to defeat the Dark Lord,” he doesn’t bother dropping the news gently. Remus rears back in surprise. “He found a way to make himself essentially immortal, so he can’t be killed in the traditional sense of the word.”
“When you say ‘essentially’…”
“I mean that you could destroy his body, but his soul would be in limbo, and he’d be able to come back. He’s not entirely human anymore, either, his immortality has come at a steep cost to him. Truth be told, I’m still unsure about a lot of it myself. There’s hardly any research on the material. I am sure of what I’m dealing with, just not how I’m going to.”
“You mean we.”
“That- Just like that, you’re agreeing?” Regulus frowns, setting his cup down. Teacups are the only thing he can manage to drink any liquid out of, given that those and goblets are the only options he has in the manor. He’ll never drink from another goblet again.
“You didn’t think I would?”
“Well… I was prepared to give you a few hours to think about it. If you didn’t, I was going to have to wipe your memory before dropping you back at your flat.” Remus makes a noise of offense at that, Regulus waves it off. “I did hope that insufferable hero complexes you Gryffindors all have would win you over, though.”
Remus shakes his head, something dour passing across his features before he sets his face in determination. “I’m sick of Dumbledore sending me on missions that he and I both know won’t lead anywhere. If I can do something that will bring the bastard Voldemort himself down, then by all means, tell me what you need me to do, Reg.”
“You don’t know what I need from you yet.”
“I thought you were dead,” Remus points out. “I thought you were dead, but you’re not, and I also thought you were a death eater, but you’re also apparently not that either.”
“You’ll need to be dead,” Regulus says, deathly quiet. This is the part he’s worried will make Remus change his mind. “You’re the only person who knows now that I’m not, beside Kreacher, but he never leaves my side, and you won’t either if you agree to this. We’ll need to fake your death as well. We can’t have anyone catching on to what we’re doing and the only way we can assure secrecy is if we’re completely isolated and there’s no one looking for us.”
He sees the meaning of his words sink in, Remus’ face falling slightly. He goes on. “Barty, Evan, Pandora… They all think I’m dead. Dorcas too, though I suppose I’ve been dead to her for a while anyway.” He refuses to let his voice waiver. He sits up straighter, looking the other man in the eye. “I can see that you know what I’m saying, Remus, but I need to hear you agree. My brother, Potter, your other friends, it’ll need to be the same for you as it is for me.”
“To everyone outside this manor, we’ll be dead.”
Regulus nods sharply.
“Okay,” Remus jerks his head in what Regulus guesses is supposed to be a nod as well. “I don’t think they’ll miss me much anyway, if I’m being honest.”
That, we’ll unpack later, Regulus thinks. “Okay. What do you know about Horcruxes?”
February 1st, 1980
Remus
In the end, Regulus and Remus had agreed that Remus would return home for the next month, which he had. He’s spent every ounce of free time the last weeks in this flat gathering any information he could on horcruxes, but all he has to show for it are a few outdated books he managed to steal from the restricted section in Hogwarts’ library. And even then, there’s such meager mentions of the form of magic he’s looking for in those books that they almost weren’t even worth stealing.
He’d sent them away with a charm that would take them somewhere that Regulus could pick them up, so that Sirius wouldn’t find them in the flat. That’s another thing he’s spent as much time on as possible, the people he cares about.
He’d gone to the Potters’ at least twice a week to see James and Lily, indulging in their talk about the baby, giving input here and there as if he were expecting to ever meet the child. He didn’t have to pretend that he was still as excited about it as before, because he is. He’s still happy for his friends, and the baby is still high on his list of reasons for fighting against Voldemort.
He’d spent a few days with Peter, though his schedule scarcely allowed for free time. They’d gone for a few walks when Peter had only an hour to spare and had lunch together on the days that Sirius was out on his own missions. Dumbledore didn’t like giving the friends missions together, worried that they wouldn’t be able to focus or follow protocol in the event that each other were to be hurt or killed.
Sirius was the most difficult, though they should have had the most time together. His boyfriend is still sour about their last argument, though they haven’t had another. Instead, Sirius has taken to leaving the flat when they start getting testy with each other, going to the Potters’.
He’d been skeptical of Remus’ excuse for being so late coming back from the last moon, though the worry he’d evidently been dealing with in the hours he waited for him ultimately made him cave into the relief that he was back. They’d had a few peaceful hours of lounging around their home that night, with nothing of importance being said between themselves. Remus wishes he would’ve cherished the rare nights like that more.
Remus would reach out to Sirius in the mornings, offering him breakfast or coffee. He’d try to pull Sirius closer to him in the evenings, holding him tighter as they sat together on the sofa, or collapsing into him as they slept. They didn’t see each much in between, with Sirius always out on missions, or either of them spending the day with someone else.
Today, the last night they’ll have together, came way too soon. Sirius has been on edge, as he is every full moon, and Remus has been trying all day not to start anything, though his own poor mood hasn’t been any help. They argue over breakfast about the same thing they do every month.
“It’s too dangerous, Moony.”
“I’d appreciate if you’d stop seeing me as some sort of exception for what werewolves are like, thanks.”
“I don’t think they’re all bad-”
“No, you just think they’ll kill me, right?”
Blah, blah, blah, etc., etc., etc.
Despite Remus’ best efforts to put his own pride aside and apologize first this time, Sirius wasn’t having it. He’s reached his limit, he says, for Remus’ disregard for his own safety and refusal to see Sirius’ point. Which, okay, maybe that’s a bit fair, but pot? Meet kettle?
They exchange only a few words the rest of the day. Mainly, Remus makes several attempts at conversation, and is met with short, snappy answers. He reaches out a handful of times, resting a hand on Sirius’ back, or reaching to brush his hair out of his face, and refuses to let himself feel the pang in his chest every time the other jerks away from the touch. He has to remind himself that Sirius has always been difficult to appease when he’s angry, and that as far as he knows, he’ll see Remus bright and early tomorrow morning. He likely thinks they’ll be able to be sappy with each other after a night of cooling off away from each other.
Remus feels his heart jump to his throat, choking him, when he makes a final attempt to brush a hand against Sirius’ arm as he gets ready to leave for the moon, and is met only with another sharp rejection. He wonders if Sirius will think back on this and kick himself for it when he thinks Remus is dead, or if it’ll be of little consequence to the older man.
“I love you,” he says, hand on the doorknob.
“See you tomorrow,” is the answer from the other room.
February 8th, 1980
Sirius
Remus Lupin is dead.
Sirius barely registers the words as Moody announces them to the room. He's sure he heard wrong because that's just-that's- that's not right. Remus? His Remus? No. He saw Moony last week. When he'd left to spend the moon with the pack. Moony was running a few days late, but he promised Sirius he would return. He promised. And Moony doesn't break his promises. Not his Moony.
Remus Lupin is dead.
James feels his heart stutter in his chest. He knows it's a lie. It has to be. It has to, because his heart, after its brief moment there, is now pounding. And if his heart is still beating, then so is Remus', because there's no Prongs without Moony. Because if Peter's down the table, breathing heavily, then Remus must still be breathing, because there's no Wormtail without Moony. Because if Sirius is across from him, shaking his head frantically, eyebrows furrowed, then Remus must still be able to move his own body, because there wouldn't be padfoot without Moony.
Remus Lupin is dead.
Lily takes a sharp breath in, waiting for Dumbledore to tell them that Moody's just playing a cruel joke. She brings a hand to the small bump on her belly. No. Her best friend isn't dead, because he's going to be the other godfather. Because-because she and James haven't even gotten the chance to ask Remus and Sirius yet.
Remus Lupin is dead.
Peter breaks out in a sweat. Because there's no traitor without Remus. He's spent too long meticulously putting together the details, planting suspicion. Without Remus, there is still a spy. But there isn't anyone else to take the fall for Peter's betrayal, except the rat himself.
Remus Lupin is dead.
But that can't be true, because- because it's just not.
Murmurs break out amongst the order, but Moody immediately calls for silence. He looks to Dumbledore, who nods for him to proceed.
"Lupin went on a mission, the details of which remain between Albus and I, last Thursday. He was supposed to be back, or at least have checked in with an update by the following morning. We haven't heard anything from Lupin in a week now, and given the nature of the mission he was given, Albus and I must conclude that he's dead."
"Our condolences," Dumbledore finishes, "to his loved ones here."
Sirius breathes a sigh of relief. Moony isn't dead. Why would they scare him like that? Why would they think that was funny? Moony is just taking longer than they expected. He'll be back soon. He hasn't broken his promise.
So why is James crying? His face is the only one Sirius can bring himself to meet. Why is he looking at Sirius with an expression so full of sorrow it feels like his pain is spilling over into the room? Sirius barely registers, somewhere in the farthest, most sensible corner of his mind, that it's not James' pain he's feeling in the room right now.
The meeting continues on, the atmosphere grim as Moody gives the rest of his regular updates, and then Dumbledore gives a few words before telling them when and where the next meeting will be. Sirius doesn't hear any of it, and pretty soon everyone has cleared the room, except for the remaining three marauders, and Lily. Moody gruffly mutters something like a 'good luck' to Dumbledore, then leaves the old professor to handle the lot in front of him.
"If you don't have a body, or any actual proof he's dead, then…" Peter trails off, then clears his throat. "How do you know he hasn't… you know…"
"Hasn't what?" Lily snaps. "Joined Greyback? Gone over to their side? Become a Death Eater?"
Peter swallows harshly, then seems to steel himself. "Well, yes. Yes, that's what I mean. You all have heard him talk about them. Like they're his family, like he feels for them. It's only Greyback he hates, so what if-"
"Enough."
Sirius is snapped out of his daze by the pure fury in James' tone, his features now showing stark disbelief as he tears his gaze away from Sirius to land it on Peter. “How can you even think that about Moony?”
Peter opens his mouth, presumably to defend his theory, but Dumbledore beats him to it. “We don’t know for certain. However, even if Mr. Lupin is still alive, Mr. Pettigrew is right in thinking that it would mean we have been betrayed, in which case Mr. Lupin ought to be dead to you all anyway.”
James and Lily break into immediate protests, but Sirius can’t be bothered to stick around any longer. He’s going to be fucking sick if he has to hear Moony’s name thrown around one more time in the context of either possibilities. Merlin, he doesn't know which one would be worse. Dead or a traitor. He flings himself from his seat, sending it crashing backwards.
James finds him later, sitting on a swing in a muggle playground a few blocks down from his and Remus’ flat. He sits down next to Sirius, neither of them speaking for what could be hours, or only minutes. He doesn’t know, but it could easily be either, as he’s not processing anything properly right now. But the silence must eventually be broken, and of course it’s James that does it, because Sirius doesn’t have it in him to be that brave right now.
“Lily ripped into Pete as soon as you left. I stayed long enough to make sure she wasn’t gonna kill him, but I figure you need me more right now.” It’s not the time for humor, especially about death or murder, and James seems to realize that as soon as the attempt to lighten the mood leaves his mouth, because he grimaces and looks down. “Sirius, what he said-”
“It’s not true,” Sirius croaks. “He’s not the traitor, and he’s not… he’s not dead.” Sirius knows that now, even if just yesterday he wasn’t so sure. If someone had asked him yesterday if Remus was the traitor, he’d have replied with a sharp ‘no’ in an instant, but there would have been a flicker of doubt in his eyes, a twitch in his hand as he resisted the urge to ball it into a tight fist. But right now, all of the previous evidence he had seems so stupid, and he mentally kicks himself for having believed any of it. He berates himself in his mind for every second of warmth and love that he lost with Remus the last few weeks when he had thought that the man could be lying to him, because it’s just so painfully obvious now that his Moony could never be capable of that.
Funny, he thinks, how death puts things into perspective like that.
James, the brilliant bastard, doesn’t point out any of Sirius’ previous doubts, just nods and reaches out to wrap a hand around his elbow and squeeze. “Of course he wasn’t the traitor, Pads. Remus loved us more than anything. We were his family, and you were his whole world.” He says it with a softer voice, but no less conviction, than he’d said those same words the first time any suspicion had been raised against the now dead marauder.
If Sirius could hear anything past the agonizing silence that falls over them after that, or think anything past the chorus of it’s not true it’s not true it’s not true that runs through his mind, then maybe he’d notice James’ use of past tense, or the fact that he didn’t contradict the idea of Remus being dead like he did with Remus being the traitor, and he’d have the mind to snap at him for it. But all he knows at the moment is the numbness wrapping around him in a chokehold.
He hadn’t said goodbye to Moony before he left for the moon. He’d been too angry over their last argument. What had they even been fighting about? Sirius doesn’t remember, but he’s sure now that it doesn’t matter, that it’d been stupid. They’d spent so much time being upset with each other these last few months, and so little time appreciating each other. When was the last time he told Moony that he loved him? He doesn’t know. Sirius knows that Remus told him that very thing just before he left and fuck if Sirius isn’t kicking himself now for not saying it back, for being so childishly petty.
Sirius pushes his swing sideways to drop his head onto James’ shoulder, the younger wrapping an arm around his shoulders to hold them together. They say nothing more for a long time.