Chapter 1
By the time Remus realised he was not okay, he had been too late. With red, bleeding knuckles and dull bags under his eyes, Remus purged through his second, third, and fourth years at Hogwarts.
Food was not the enemy, Remus could admit that. His mind was. The mind that convinced him that food was bad. Starving, upchucking every meal he had, that kept him thin. Kept him wanted and loved.
His body wasn’t desirable. It was scarred and pale and too thin. But Remus’ mind did not want to listen. It insisted that he’d be beautiful if he just lost another pound. Self-control was what kept him beautiful.
His friends didn’t know. They probably just assumed Remus had a fast metabolism. He’d convinced himself of this, and ignored their concerned eyes as they watched him stare at his food rather than eat it.
The water splashed against the sink and the shower floor as Remus crouched down on his knees, knuckles deep in his own throat. He can’t make too much noise, water was the thing that made sure of that.
He retched and his eyes watered. He just felt so miserable.
He sat there afterwards, knees to his chest. Red rimmed eyes, a burning throat, the bitter taste of bile on his tongue. Sweat coated his forehead and he sobbed into himself, thankful for the running shower and sink that quietened his cries.
He brushed his teeth, feeling weak and pathetic.
Remus showered, running his fingers along his protruding ribs, the bones on his chest, his collarbones, his hips…
He smiled to himself, proud that he’d come so far from the chubby kid he was.
Although, his scarred skin made him frown. That was out of his control. But the smaller cuts, those were his. They were so neat on his thighs. He rummages in his discarded trousers for the razor, and added a few cuts to his growing collection.
A knock interrupted his thoughts. “You’ve been there ages, Remus. Are you planning on moving in there?!” He heard the frustrated voice of Peter.
“Give me a minute, Peter!” He called back, cringing at his hoarse voice.
Quickly, he exited the shower. The blood painted his thigh crimson and the towel that dried his legs made his wince as it ran over the sensitive skin.
Remus clothed himself as fast as he could, worried Peter would barge in and see him. Or more accurately, his scars.
“Remus? You nearly done?” Sirius’ voice cut through his panic and he panicked even more.
“Shit, shit, shit.” He whispered to himself as he rushed his shirt on.
He breathed in relief as he opened the door and felt the cool air.
Sirius frowned at him, and Remus couldn’t begin to imagine how bad he looked. “You look like shit, Moony.” Sirius informed him.
“Cheers.” Remus muttered, stepping aside and walking to his bed. He threw himself onto it, sighing in relief as the pain between his shoulders subsided.
“No, wai- I only meant, like, are you okay?” Sirius asked, following Remus to his bed. He loomed over him, and Remus used his arm to cover his face.
“Yeah, fine. Jus’ tired.” Remus said, yawning for good measure.
“Oh, well, good night, then.” Sirius said, smiling at Remus. Remus didn’t return the smile, he didn’t think he could muster up enough energy to pretend.
•••
As soon as he woke up, Remus felt the headache that came after a night of purging. His throat was dry and he felt a wave of nausea wash over him.
“Sirius and Peter are at breakfast, Moony. I said I’d wait for you, sleepyhead.” James grinned at the lump in Remus’ bed. “Come on, get up! I’m starving.” James complained, grabbing Remus’ blanket and shoving it off of him.
Remus turned to face away from James, shivering. “Mate, you good?“ James asked, a frown evident in his voice.
“Yeah.” Remus croaked.
“Cool. Come on, then.”
“You don’t have to wait for me. Go on, I’ll meet you there.” Remus mumbled as he pressed a fist to his pounding skull.
“You sure?” James hesitated. Remus hummed in the affirmative. “Okay then, see you!” James said cheerily and Remus heard the door open and then close.
He got up. The bone-deep aches and chills made him groan quietly as he made his way to the bathroom. Staring at himself in the mirror made him want to punch the glass and never see himself again.
Bloodshot eyes, dark eyebags, pale cheeks, slightly swollen from last night’s purge. He felt even more nauseous as he looked at his reflection.
Remus searched for his razor blade in the magically hidden floorboard under his bed and under the piles of books he kept there. Once he finally got hold of his razor, Remus locked himself in the bathroom again.
He was slightly relieved that his dormmates weren’t there, and slightly apprehensive that they would be back soon.
Remus cut himself too deep sometimes, other times shallow. His scars weren’t as neat as he’d like to think. They ranged from thick to thin, overlapping when he ran out of space. Some were fresh and some were old, some were just starting to heal.
The habit had started when he was in second year, although he had no idea what the extent of his coping mechanism would be, or that it would be permanent, and sometimes left him on the brink of death. It had started as something he did to feel better, relieved, and then he became obsessed with the scars that were so unlike the ones he could not control.
Remus started his smoking habit in third year, and it evolved into the occasional spliff in fourth year.
Remus tried everything to forget he existed when he couldn’t lose himself in the full moon. He did not want to ever exist, he did not choose to be bitten or to hate himself. Remus Lupin felt utterly cursed.
After cleaning up the blood, Remus got dressed in his school uniform. The robes hung off his frame in ways they didn’t just a month before. He wore his muggle clothes underneath. A large wool sweater to keep him warm. Remus was always cold, even with the warmth of tea and coffee, of the common room fireplace, of fuzzy socks, and of his favourite sweaters.
He decided he wanted to skip breakfast, he had his excuse at the ready; he wanted to go to the library to study.
In case any of his friends come looking for him, Remus decided to actually go to the library and get a few things done.
He sat in the corner farthest from Madam Pince and started his homework, even though it wasn’t due until the following week.
A shadow fell upon his table and he glanced upward to see who had approached him. It was Lily, one of his closest friends. She smiled at him and he smiled back, although it was weak and forced.
“What are you up to?” She asked, tucking a strand of her fiery hair behind her ear.
“Professor McGonagall’s essay on Vanishing Spells.” Remus murmured, gesturing to what he had written so far.
Lily beamed at him. “Oh, I finished it the day she told us about it. Can I read it?”
Remus nodded, handing her his essay awkwardly. “Oh, Remus! This is brilliant. It’s better than mine. Which book did you choose for your research? Perhaps I could borrow it from you? Please?” Lily whispered, too scared to speak properly in the library lest she face the wrath of the librarian.
“Thanks. And…just, um, let me finish my essay and I’ll give you the book afterwards, yeah?” Remus tried a smile, although he thought it looked more manic than it did genuine.
“Oh, of course! No problem. You coming down to breakfast? You can hang out with me and my friends, if you’d like. Dorcas isn’t feeling well, I think she won’t come down just yet. So, do you want to take her place?” Lily rambled and Remus felt a pang of panic in his chest.
“Um, I was planning on finishing the essay right now. But I’ll join you afterwards.” Remus replied, feeling slightly guilty at Lily’s disappointment.
“Oh, no problem. See you later, Remus.” She smiled brightly and left the library.
Remus yawned and scratched the dried blood on his thigh, wincing slightly and he felt the prick of pain. He had reopened a scab but couldn’t care less as he continued writing, not taking his eyes off his parchment.
After what felt like hours, Remus stuffed his stationary into his school bag and made his way back to the dormitory, where he was planning on resting before classes.
On his way, he bumped into Mary, who was struggling with closing her overfilled bag. “Hello, Remus! Would you mind helping me close this bloody bag? You’re smart, you can use a spell, just, ugh, anything.” Mary pleaded, and Remus nodded before muttering the Enlarging Spell. Mary’s bag remained the same size, although it seemed to be less filled.
Mary glanced inside and her jaw dropped in shock. She looked back up to Remus and beamed. “Thank you! Oh, thank you so much, Remus!”
Remus smiled and nodded before leaving and continuing his way. Once he reached the portrait, the Fat Lady was gossiping with another painting.
“Billywig.” Remus said, and the Fat Lady didn’t even acknowledge him.
“Billywig.” Remus repeated, louder. He heard the Fat Lady huff. She rolled her eyes, muttering about impatient teenagers before opening the door. Remus entered and spotted his friends already in the common room. Peter and James were playing chess, although Sirius was nowhere to be found.
“Remus! I was beginning to think you fell into the Black Lake.” Peter exclaimed when he looked up and was met with Remus’s thin figure.
“Hi.” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes tiredly.
“Remus!” James caught on and smiled at his friend. “Oi, Peter, fuck you. You can’t just- that was- stop doing that!” He scowled at the chess table. Peter giggled.
“Checkmate.” He said smugly, ignoring James’ weak frown. As James started protesting, Remus walked past his friends and into their shared dorm room. He didn’t notice Sirius, who was flipping through some Muggle magazine, and plopped himself onto his made bed, eyes closing tiredly.
“You alright?” Sirius asked. Startled, Remus flinched. Sirius snorted as Remus glared at him.
“Fine.” Remus replied, stifling a yawn.
“You weren’t at breakfast.” Sirius frowned in concern. Remus rolled his eyes.
“I was at the library. Lost track of time.” Remus muttered and struggled against his urge to sleep.
“Oh. Well, don’t worry. We brought you back some food, just in case you were hungry.” Sirius smiled and Remus tensed. Fuck.
“I’m fine, not hungry.” Remus said, hoping his lie was believable.
“Remus…” Sirius muttered, eyes full of worry. “You need to eat. The full moon’s in less than a week.”
“You don’t have to remind me like I can’t fucking feel it.” Remus snapped at Sirius, who frowned at him.
“You never said you can feel the full moon.” Sirius mumbled, confused. Remus just shrugged.
“Jesus, Moony…” Sirius scans his tired face and then shakes his head. “No wonder you look so miserable.” He sighed.
Remus narrowed his eyes. He considered protesting, but he found that the upcoming full moon seemed to be a great excuse for his decreased appetite and foul mood. He can say he wasn’t hungry, say he was tired, and no one would bat an eye.
“Regardless, you have to eat something.” Sirius insisted.
Remus shook his head. “I really don’t feel like it. I’ll just eat lunch and dinner. It’s not a big deal.” Remus almost convinced himself.
Sirius hesitated, then glanced at Remus, who was sure his face was pale, slightly sick looking. He hoped that would convince Sirius, who was very stubborn.
“Fine.” Sirius sighed after a bit of contemplation, and smiled at Remus. “Do you wanna skip classes today? You look tired.”
“No, it’s alright.” Remus said, pulling out a book from his bedside table. Sirius shook his head in exasperation and turned his attention back to the Muggle magazine.
•••
Remus was slightly dizzy when lunchtime came around. He told Sirius that he was feeling nauseous. Sirius protested and told him that he was going to get him lunch up to the dorm. Remus relented and told him to only get him some soup and an apple, because he couldn’t stomach anything else. Sirius looked concerned, but agreed when Remus threatened to throw up on his bed, including the Muggle magazines he always left scattered on it.
But once Sirius went back up, Remus was “sleeping.” Sirius stayed, though, and started playing some rock Muggle music quietly.
After a few minutes, Remus found himself falling asleep to Sirius’ quiet melodious humming.
Remus awoke uncomfortably, ten minutes late to his Herbology class. He grabbed his bag quickly, he rushed outside his dorm, ignoring his bleary vision and lightheadedness. He ran as fast as he could through the common room and Gryffindor Tower. He nearly crashed into Frank Longbottom. He muttered a quick apology and didn’t stick around to hear Frank laughing at him.
Frazzled, dizzy, and panting, Remus reached Herbology Greenhouse three. Professor Sprout took five points from Gryffindor for the tardiness, and Remus found himself apologising profusely to his class, who shrugged him off with rolled eyes.
Remus had never been the one to cost his house any points. Quiet and unassuming, he was always the most innocent out of the troublemaking Marauders, and had never gotten caught in any of the mischievous pranks he had a great part in planning.
After class, Remus yawned and ignored the grumbles of his stomach. Of course he was hungry, he always was.
“Why did you let me oversleep like that?” Remus frowned at Sirius, who just shrugged.
“You looked like you needed it.” He said before accelerating his pace and catching up to James, who was attempting to decipher his own handwriting.
Remus and Peter shared amused glances, though Remus did it half-heartedly.
As his friends called it a day and climbed up into Gryffindor Tower, Remus had to go to his classes. Arthimancy was one of his favourites, although all he wanted to do was rest.
Remus was drained from his long day, although he still had to attend the prefects’ meeting. Tiredly, Remus ran a hand through his tousled hair and walked with Lily Evans.
“You look tired. Everything alright?” Lily commented. Remus nodded.
He felt black dots dance across his vision and felt relieved when they finally reached the others and sat down.
•••
The climb to the Gryffindor Tower was harder than Remus remembered. He felt as though he was walking in water, his legs struggling against liquid instead of air.
Once he reached the Fat Lady, he mumbled “Billywig” and took no notice of the Fat Lady asking if he had a bad day. He climbed up the stairs into his dorm room, legs made of lead.
The second his head hit the pillow, Remus felt the gentle tug of sleep and gladly accepted.