Remus
So Remus was homeless.
And it wasn’t the fun, carefree kind of situation that Sirius found his freedom in. It hurt more, it curdled every drop of blood in his body, because Remus had always been told he’d end up like this. Here he was, at twenty one, realizing that all the predictions from his former classmates and teachers had come true.
When I see you living in a cardboard box on the side of the street in two years, I’ll drop a coin in your collection jar.
Fuck Sirius Black.
Remus had a bed, at least. He had a room. He was grateful for that.
He’d spent the last few days in a blind fury, packing up all his earthly belongings and moving them into Peter’s place before the night of the full moon.
Peter was really his only option. Sirius spent some nights at James’, some nights at the elder Potters’ empty house, and Remus wouldn’t be surprised if he also crashed at Dorcas and Marlene’s, sometimes, too. Sirius had no problem bothering any member of the Order, showing up out of the blue and demanding a bed at a moment’s notice. But the one person that Sirius never reached out to was Peter.
Remus had noticed, even all those years ago back at school, that Sirius and Peter often found themselves fighting over James. They would rip each other apart for scraps of his attention, and quickly turned on each other when James could only deal with one of them. Remus, who didn’t give a flying fuck what James thought of him, just sat back and watched.
After all those years of observing, Remus knew that Sirius would never show up at Peter’s unannounced. He’d be dramatic— complain, drag his feet, maybe even take advantage of Lily’s thoughtfulness to convince her to go to Peter’s instead. No, Sirius would never go to Peter. He might burst into flames the minute he crossed the threshold.
That being said, Remus thought Peter’s place would be a perfect place to stay.
Peter laughed like Lily, he talked like Marlene, and when the night fell Remus knew that Peter would protect him like James.
But Remus also knew that he wasn’t enough. Remus and the wolf lived in different bodies, but one thing stayed the same no matter what form he took.
He was always lonely without Sirius.
***
Remus thought he was dead. Really, truly dead.
He vaguely remembered grabbing onto James before they both apparated back to Peter’s flat, but everything after that was a blur.
It took a full minute for Remus to build up the energy to open his eyes (how were his eyelids sore?), until he finally blinked up at the ceiling.
He was in his new room. Light streamed through the curtains and illuminated the bare surfaces on the bureau and desk.
Remus tried to take a deep breath, but his chest zinged with pain that travelled to the ends of his fingers. Even without seeing it, he could feel gashes on his stomach and legs, and he could still smell the hastily cast magic that had probably come from James. He had a splitting headache. His joints burned.
But above all else, he was freezing.
He groped around on the bed for a blanket, but his fingers skimmed the light sheets until the mattress ended.
He muttered a few choice words and slowly propped himself up on his elbows.
Peter hadn’t given him any blankets.
Remus reached out a hand and searched blindly for his wand. With a quick motion, he slit the curtain and summoned it to him, wrapping it around his shoulders.
The curtain refused to offer any warmth, and Remus' teeth chattered. Even through his hazy delirium, he felt the slow spread of a soon-to-be raging fever.
Sirius always knew when his fever was worst. He used to spend the day before the full moon quietly preparing, sometimes so covertly that Remus didn’t notice until he woke up with heating charms on his clothes, bed, and floor. Sirius made food for the next day so he wouldn’t have to leave Remus alone, and always pulled a chair from the kitchen into their bedroom so Remus could reach a glass of water from under his blankets.
Now there was no water, no Sirius, not even a blanket to comfort him.
There was a crash from outside the door, and a voice rang out, “Hey, Pete.”
Remus’ breath caught and he stared at his clammy hands, somehow wondering, did I summon him?
“How is he?” Remus heard Sirius’ distant voice.
“Fine,” Peter replied. “He hasn’t woken up yet.”
Remus tried to turn over onto his stomach and winced.
Something clunked against the kitchen table. “Wake him up soon so he eats. What do you have in your fridge?”
“Steak and bread and stuff.”
Sirius gave a sharp sigh. “Wormy, what the fuck.”
Remus could almost see Peter start to get angry. “Don’t blame me!” he said. “This is usually your job.”
“It’s not a job,” Sirius said in a scathing voice. “It’s common decency.”
Remus held himself tighter. He was cold. He was miserable. He was sorrysorry sorry.
He opened his mouth, but his lips were cracked and parched. A small groan escaped, but that was it. I’m awake. I’m in here. I’m so cold.
“Doesn’t matter. Somehow, I knew you wouldn’t be prepared,” Sirius said. “I brought soup for him. Send me a patronus when he wakes up and tell me if he needs any pain medication. Lily said she can drop it off. Make sure to ask if he actually needs it, because most times he's just throwing a pity party. But send me a patronus either way, so I know.”
“Will do. This soup smells good.”
“It’s for Moony, not you! Get your greasy rat hands off it.”
“Hey, come off it, Black! We’re doing fine without a babysitter.”
“Send me a patronus, though, yeah?”
“Yes. I will in an hour or so.”
“Thanks, Petey.”
“Of course.”
Remus’ eyelids drooped again, and his shivering subsided. He was okay, he could sleep. There were familiar voices in the hallway. Sirius was here…