Rage

September 23, 1971

Remus rolled over, trying to sleep. This wasn’t uncommon. He just couldn’t get comfortable, and felt like he had enough energy to run around the universe without stopping. He could hear the small patter of rain against the roof of the dorm, and would have hoped to have calmed him.

He sighed, and got up silently. He pulled on a t-shirt for the first time since he's been here, showing long, silver scars on his pale arms. They weren’t all claw marks, there were a few bites as well, and he felt such self loathing looking at them, it bordered on anger. He pulled on a forest green jumper, and headed down silently to the common room.

There was the rolling of thunder, and a small flash of lightning. His plan was to go to the common room to watch the storm, and hopefully calm down enough to sleep.

He glanced at the clock. 3:45 am. Great. He was almost down to the bottom of the spiral staircase, when he saw a small figure. He could smell the fear emanating from it. It smelt of ridiculously expensive shampoo, explosive magic, outdoors, and fear. He recognized the scent, and marked the figure as Sirius. What Sirius was doing down here at this hour was beyond him, but he guessed it was something to do with the storm.

“Helo,” Remus said, (Hello). Sirius glanced up.

“Hiya.”

“What are you doing?” Remus asked, though he could guess. Was the mighty Sirius Black really scared of a little thunder?

“Couldn’t sleep,” his voice was small, and scared.

“Are you scared? Of the storm?” Remus asked, bewildered. He had always liked the storms, liked the smell, and the sizzling electricity. Liked the chaos of the entire sky lighting up, followed by the dramatic boom of thunder. Remus had always liked chaos though, so that might just be him.

Sirius gave a nervous laugh, “I’ve always hated thunderstorms. The lightning reminds me of my mother, and the thunder of my father.”

“Why?” Remus asked. He was starting to feel concern for his friend. Was his home life as bad as his? Worse? The only person he would wish that on would be his father.

“Promise not to tell anyone? Not even you brother?” he asked, the smell of fear was so strong that Remus had to fight instinct, and pounce on the weakness.

“There are a lot of things about me that my brother doesn’t know about,” Remus replied.

“My mum’s strict, with punishments. She uses spells. Spells that we haven't learned about. Spells that hurt, spells that leave ugly scars, spells that make you bleed. My dad doesn’t do that. His abuse is mental. He uses words that hurt just as much,” there were tears in his eyes, and he did a poor job of hiding them. Remus, who had resolved to call himself an idiot later, stepped forward, and wrapped his arms around the small trembling boy in front of him. He didn’t know how, or why, that this felt so right. Somehow righter than anything. He felt Sirius relax into the hug, and lean into him, crying. Remus usually didn’t like contact, and found himself okay with this. He trusted Sirius not to hurt him. He trusted him, trusted his touch. Trusted Sirius.

Remus felt he should say something, let Sirius know that he wasn’t alone.

“You’re not alone. You don’t have to do this alone,” he said, hoping that this reassured Sirius. 

“D-do you…” Sirius trailed off.

“Yeah. My dad,” he said. He didn’t know why he was telling Sirius this. He had never told anyone before.

“What does he do?” Sirius asked.

“Yells, hits,” he said.

“Why?”

“Me and Rom, well, we’re a disappointment to him. He hates that he has two children that are like us. Like me. Always getting into fights and trouble. He focuses so much on the cons that he sees no pros.”

“It’s kinda like that with me. I have a little brother, Regulus, he’s coming to Hogwarts next year. I don’t like my parents, so I do little things to annoy them. Like purposely breaking something that they can easily fix, or swapping paintings with muggle posters. I don’t think like them. They’re obsessed with power and control, and money, when I don’t give a damn. They have these twisted opinions about muggleborns and halfbloods, that they should be shoved aside. That they should be, merlin, I even hate saying it, but they should be exterminated, that they’re, like, savage, somehow, and it ‘pureblood right’ to be able to command respect just because of your blood, and it’s so gross that I can’t even think about it for to long. They think that people that are different than them should just be pushed aside, and I guess, dealt with,” he shuddered. 

“But I’ll say that they’re crazy, and out comes the wand. And I always try to protect Regulus, take punishments for him, and so there's that,” he was crying now. Tears soaking Remus’s chest, where Sirius had laid his head.

“So that's why you're scared of thunderstorms?” 

“Yes, and if you laugh at me, I will curse you.”

_

October 2, 1971

Sirius was noticing something going on with two of his dorm mates. The twins' temper seemed to be at an all time high. Anger just below the surface, boiling. Romulus was even starting to get angry. Sirius had worked up the courage to ask Romulus what was wrong. He had said that they were  going home for a day to check on how their mum was doing. Sirius, if he hadn’t had talked to Remus a couple of days ago, he would have been suspicious, but he understood that they loved their mum, and was checking to see if she was doing okay with Lyall Lupin.

He also understood why they were less than thrilled. James had asked Remus about it, which asking Remus anything was usually not a good idea, and James had to go to the Hospital Wing because every time he went to speak, a sharp pain would go down his left leg. Remus had threatened that he had all the power to make the pain much worse, and he could make it happen somewhere else. James, grasping exactly what Remus was hinting at, furiously nodded his head.

After Madam Pomfrey cured James of the spell, they decided the best thing to do was give them space. This turned out to be a bad idea, because an hour later, both twins were extremely bloody, both noses broken, and in the Hospital Wing getting cleaned up. They had explained that they were bored, and needed something to do, so they practised fighting because she could just heal them easily.

It was dinner time, and he watched in slight horror as Remus and Romulus attacked extremely rare steaks. 

They were getting ready for bed, when Remus went to close the curtains around his bed with such force that they ripped from the frame. 

“Darn dwp o shite!” he swore loudly in Welsh. Sirius had picked up quite a few colourful curses in Welsh, and could understand a frequently used sentence of ‘stupid piece of shit’. 

“Woah there, calm down. What’s wrong?” James asked. And, bless him, but that was not the right move.

“Wow, you really don’t know when to shut up don’t you?,” he rounded on James. James’s face drained of colour as Remus stepped forward threateningly, “You’re like a calf, and I might be a little mean, but I really don’t give a shite. You need to learn when to leave people alone, and I gave you a warning, but it seems that you threw it out the window.”

“Please, I-I just w-wanted to s-see if you w-were okay, please don’t hurt me,” James said. He was trying to make a joke. Sirius would have thought that Remus would have just turned around and fixed his curtains, but no. Remus had been looking for a fight today, and launched himself at James. Sirius flinched as he heard Remus’s fist connect with James’s jaw. James crawled backward, and spat blood.

“That’s warning number dwy,” he said.

_

October 4, 1971

Tonight was the first full moon outside that horrible basement. Romulus walked around the shack, smelling the air. He could smell the forest beyond the wooden walls of the shack.

“Well, it's not exactly homely, but it will work for the full moons,” Madam Pomfry said. “There’s some medical stuff in this crate here,” she said pointing to a small wooden crate in the corner, “and there is a change of clothes for both of you under this floorboard here,” she said, kicking a board in the far left corner. 

“And it will keep us in?” Romulus asked sceptically, feeling the flimsy walls of the shack. 

“It would not have originally, but there are spells that keep the walls up,” Madam Pomfry replied. 

“You should leave,” Remus said, “ the transformations only about ten minutes away.”

“Yes, I’ll be back right when the sun rises.” She left them alone, and they could hear her muttering spells on the door from the other side of the door.

“Well, I’m going to lay down. It’s that time of the night where everything is starting to hurt,” he walked over to one of the small cots in the corner. Romulus groaned, a sharp pain going through his shoulders, and went to lay down as well.

A few minutes later, pain coursed through him. He groaned, fiery needles stabbing him over and over again. His toes curled and he screamed as his shoulder blades stretched away from each other. His spine elongated, and his ribs broke and reshaped to fit the wolf. He could hear his tendons cracking as his legs stretched into an inhuman shape. He watched his hands become paws, fingers thickening and shortening. Razors for claws pushed out of his hands. His teeth grew to a point, sharp and deadly.

He always lost it here, and nothing changed. His skull split open to allow a muzzle to force its way though, his mind was taken over by the wolf. His agonised scream turned into a triumphant howl. The wolf turned to see his brother looking back at him. They dropped to all fours, tilted their heads back, and let out a low howl. He looked back at his brother. Don’t lose, a voice rang through his skull. The wolf turned, sniffed the air, confused. He is your rival. You are dominant. You are alpha. Don’t lose, the wolf turned to face his brother. He was met with a low growl.

He growled back. They circled each other, daring them to move. They launched at each other at the same time, growling and slashing at each other, needing to win this awful fight.

_

The Morning After

Remus groaned. He was sticky with blood, large slash marks covering his body. There was a cut running from the middle of his left cheek down his neck, and he knew he would scar. He looked for his brother. He cried out in pain as he turned his head, pain exploding down his back and neck. Stop, he told himself, you have more than just sight. Sniff him out.

He sniffed the air, and knew that Romulus was to the right of him. His state was worse than Remus’s. He could smell the blood, heavy and metallic. There was a lot of it. He rolled over, ignoring the pain, and army-crawled over to him.

“Rom? Rom deffro,” he said, prodding at him (wake up). Romulus groaned, eyes fluttering open.

“Remus?” his voice was hoarse, as if he had swallowed sandpaper. 

“Ie, aros yn effro, gadewch i mi fachu rhywbeth,” he stood (Yeah, stay awake, let me grab something), wincing at the pain, and stumbled towards the crate. He pulled it open, and grabbed a bottle with bright red liquid in it. It read ‘pour on deep gashes’ in a neat, thin scrawl. He stumbled back over to Romulus with the bottle clutch tight in his hand.

He poured it onto Romulus’s naked torso, and passed out from his own lack of blood.