The Fall

Pain splinters across Remus’ body in hot waves- fear and confusion rocks his lungs as his surroundings sway in and out of focus around him. He’s lost- no. Where is he?

The wood floor of the shrieking shack is cold against his sweat soaked skin. The only warmth he feels is the blanket of blood covering him, and everything hurts. He groans and tries to move, but his limbs are too heavy.

Panic ricochets through his bones when he realizes he’s paralyzed. The pain searing his limbs demands to be felt in hot flashes and there’s nothing he can do- It hurts, It hurts, It hurts-

“Remus- oh… Remus…” Madam Pomfrey’s familiar voice finds him; she sounds muffled and far away. Remus blinks around, trying to find her, but his vision is too hazy.

He pushes his head against the floorboards with a sharp cry. Tears burn his eyes as he writhes under Madam Pomfrey’s gentle touch. He hasn’t felt this much pain in years.

“It hurts.” He yells, but it comes out a gurgle as copper floods his mouth.

“I know- I know,” Pomfrey soothes. She shoves a spoonful of bitter liquid into his mouth and promptly presses her hands over his lips when he tries to spit it out; forcing him to swallow. “It’s okay. Close your eyes, Remus, you’ll feel better soon.” She strokes his matted hair.

Slowly, the pain fades to the back of his mind like a quiet echo. His eyelids grow heavy as he succumbs to darkness. He thinks he hears other voices, but everything is too far away. Pins and needles prickle his raw skin, and finally, he lets sleep take him.

It feels like his eyes have only been closed for three minutes when he wakes again- but no, that can’t be right. The sun is too high and he’s all bandaged in the hospital room and- fuck- why can’t he see out of his left eye?

Panic spills across his chest. He tries sitting up but his limbs are still sluggish with sleep. His breathing becomes rushed and ragged, his heart leaps to his throat.

“Moony, hey,” Sirius' familiar voice finds him; he combs his fingers through Remus’ matted hair, “you’re okay.”

“Sir'us,” Remus’ words slur as he scrambles to a sitting position. “Sirius- I can’t-” his hand slaps over his left eye, causing a sharp pain to burst over his skull. He gasps and flinches away.

“You’re not blind.” Sirius assures. He locks his hand around Remus’ wrist before Remus can touch his eye again. “It’s just bandaged.”

The relief Remus feels is quickly swallowed by more panic when he realizes what that means. He moves his free hand to his face and feels along his grimy skin. He starts at his right jaw, where stubble prickles his fingers, and slowly moves up, up, up until he hits a bandage at his right cheek bone. His fingers blindly follow the bandage, and, to his horror, it stretches all across his nose and to his left eye. The sunlight spilling from the tall hospital windows bathe them in golden light far too warm for the chill seeping through Remus’ insides.

“No.” Remus says firmly, like that word alone can change this truth. A chill freezes his lungs.

“Remus, it’s not-”

“Mirror.” Remus cuts Sirius off with a throat full of rocks.

“Rem-”

“Sirius.” Remus snaps. “Mirror.”

Sirius clenches his jaw, but moves to grab an oval mirror off a table near Remus’ bed. Before offering it, Sirius holds it against his chest. “You’ll be upset.” He warns, voice gentle. “It’s just- I know you think they’re bad, but they’re really not, Rem.” Remus stares blankly, waiting impatiently for the mirror. Sirius hesitates, but with a sigh, he offers the mirror to Remus.

Remus’ entire body goes rigid at the sight of his bandaged face. Blood blushed bandages stretch across from his right cheekbone all the way up to his left temple. Remus’ lip curls into a scowl; disgusted by his own reflection.

“Moony,” Sirius says softly, but he doesn’t continue.

Remus immediately begins tearing the bandages away; quickly and painfully without a care for the damaged skin beneath them. He drops the bandages haphazardly to the floor. He peels the last bandage away, and his stomach bottoms out at the sight.

Three deep, uneven wounds tear across Remus’ face. The longest starts at his left temple and slices through his eyebrow, over his eye and across his nose and all the way to his right cheekbone, with a smaller, jagged scar under his left eye that stops before reaching his nostril. The third starts at his nose, above the longest one, and ends just before it. It’s a miracle he can still see out of his left eye.

They’re still raw and sore; Remus didn’t give them enough time to heal, but he doesn’t care. All he can do is stare at his reflection in defeat. These are scars he can’t hide. These are scars that will demand attention, unlike the few pale ones that litter his face from past full moons. And- Merlin. What’s he going to say to excuse these? It won’t be hard to connect the dots.

He drops the mirror face-down on his chest and stares blankly at his comforter. Words leave him.

“Moony-”

Remus raises a flat hand up, silently demanding Sirius to stop.

Sirius stands silently for only a second before trying again. “Stop telling yourself they’re ugly.” He orders sharply.

Remus snaps a violent glare at Sirius. He raises a fist with his pinky directed to his mouth and does a circular motion, signing ‘ugly,’ then promptly signs the entire word ‘hideous,’ to get his point across. Because they are. They’re disgusting, and it’s proof that he has no control over himself during full moons. It’s proof he could hurt them if they continue with the animagus trials.

“They’re not.” Sirius defends immediately; absolute. He steps closer. “You’re not.”

Remus’ glare hardens. He flicks his index finger off his chin. ‘Liar.’

Sirius’ brows set low over his eyes at the accusation. “Don’t call me that.” He snaps harshly- he must not mean to, as he takes a sharp breath before continuing. “I’m not lying, Remus. Scars aren’t ugly. You certainly aren’t ugly, with or without them.”

Remus rolls his eyes and directs his glare out of the window, folding his arms stubbornly over his chest. Frustration bubbles in his stomach, threatening to boil over. Sirius doesn’t understand. He can’t- and Remus can’t expect him to.

Heavy silence clouds the air. Remus can feel Sirius’ stare the entire time, but he pointedly ignores it.

He’ll have to go to the library when he’s allowed to leave and look into scar treatments. He doubts he’ll find anything new; all of the spells and potions he’s tried before were resistant to werewolves, but he has to try. Maybe he can find a spell that just hides them instead of gets rid of them.

Cold truth settles in his bones; there’s no getting rid of these. He’ll have to accept this.

“I brought lunch- er, I guess breakfast for you, Moons.” James' sudden voice jars Remus from his inner monologue. The mention of food catches Remus’ immediate attention.

James settles a bowl of tomato soup, a grilled cheese, and a chocolate bar onto Remus’ bed table. Remus begrudgingly accepts the food, but doesn’t do much else to acknowledge their presence. Tension is still tight in the air from his and Sirius’ conversation. Peter’s eyes are glued obviously to his shoes.

“Anyway, I ran into Snivellus at the dining hall and coincidentally thought of the perfect prank.” James says, turning the sour air into something familiar.

Remus has always appreciated James and his ability to take the topic as far away from Remus as possible; to turn awkward or uncomfortable situations into something normal.

“Go on,” Sirius prompts, taking a bite of the sandwich Peter brought for him.

“Enchanting the Slytherin baths to turn their skin lime green anytime they bathe.” James announces proudly.

“Brilliant.” Sirius says. Remus can feel his eyes on him. He glances over long enough for Sirius to sign, ‘We should charm James’ hair potion to turn his hair bright red.’ The suggestion makes Remus’ lips tug against his will.

“Also,” James continues, “Lily is one thousand percent into me. I promise.”

“Lies.” Sirius accuses.

“Honestly!” James defends. “She used my first name just now! When I ran into Snivellus she was with him!”

“Pete?” Sirius asks.

“I wasn’t there.” Peter replies, eyes still glued to his shoes.

Remus rolls his eyes. He looks Sirius’ way again, watching him balance his sandwich on his thighs so he can say, ‘Amazing how these interactions only happen when it’s just the two of them.’

‘Delusional.’ Remus replies, earning a snort from Sirius.

Remus cracks a smile.

“What’d he say?” James questions immediately. He turns to Sirius, “what did you say?”

Sirius shrugs, “Just that we believe you.”

James narrows his eyes. "I hate not knowing what you're saying."

Sirius shrugs, indifferent. “Learn BSL, loser.”

James flips him off. “How’s that for sign language?”

“Amazing.” Sirius drawls. He looks at Remus. “He’s learned so much.”

Remus and Sirius learned British Sign Language years ago, back when Remus went non verbal more frequently. Remus isn't sure why he gets like this, he just knows that sometimes he feels so exhausted he can't even find the energy for a single word. It's painful, at times. Realizing this, Sirius went and bought four BSL For Beginners books the next day.

Sirius and Remus got it near instantly; pouring through their books and practising with each other daily. James knows some, but not enough to hold conversation, and Peter has yet to grasp it despite his best efforts.

Sirius and James continue bickering, all lighthearted. It’s a familiar scene that makes Remus smile. After he finishes eating, he puts his dishes on his bedside table and sinks into his pillows. Exhaustion tugs at his bones; it’s easy to fall asleep to the voices of his three favourite people.

Remus has been growing more and more bitter the further into the week they get. He’s been unable to utter a single word for the past three days, which is as frustrating as it sounds. Worst yet, since everyone knows he’s able to talk sometimes, they expect him to be able to talk all the time. This is proven by people continuously coming up to him to ask what happened. Like now.

He doesn’t have the other Marauders around to answer for him like usual, as none of them share the same third period class. They’ve been saying a different thing to anyone who asked; “Got attacked by one of the hippogriffs,” or, “visited muggle London, you know how crazy muggles and their machines are,” or, sometimes when it’s just Sirius, he simply says, “wouldn’t you like to know?”

Now, all Remus can do is stare blankly at the students who asked.

It’s a small group of them, who’ve all actually already asked when Remus was with the others. Clearly, Sirius’ reply didn’t satisfy them.

“Helloooo?” One of them mocks, waving his arm in front of Remus’ face. “Earth to Lupin! Why can’t you talk? Does it have to do with the scars?” That makes the two girls giggle.

Remus scowls. He moves to walk around them, but they follow; cutting off the path he needs to take for lunch. Again, Remus stares, wishing now more than ever that his mouth would cooperate with his brain so he can tell them off. He thinks of turning and taking the long way, but he’ll probably just be ambushed by another group of people demanding answers.

Who just goes around asking about other people's scars? Disrespectful.

“Seriously,” He continues with a tone Remus can’t decipher, “just tell us! We’ve seen you talk before, so we know you can do it. Come on, it’s not that hard.”

Oh, but isn’t it? His tongue is like lead in his mouth. Trying to force himself to speak almost hurts. His mouth and brain aren’t on the same page, simply put, and talking right now especially is impossible.

“Moony!” Thank god. Remus raises his head to see Sirius, James, and Peter all rounding the corner. Sirius is putting the Marauders Map in his pocket, meaning Remus has been kept up for longer than he thought. He hears the group of students groan at the sight of the Marauders, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t satisfy him.

Sirius glares at the students and curls his hand around Remus’ forearm. “Hey, Remus.” He says, shifting softer eyes to Remus. “Are you coming to lunch?”

Remus nods.

Sirius stares at Remus for a long moment. ‘Are they bothering you?’ He asks.

‘It’s fine.’ Remus responds. Their exchange catches the attention of the students watching.

“Oh shit. Black, ask him how he got those massive scars.” One of them orders. Sirius’ shoulders go tense. “He won’t talk to us.”

“Probably because you’re asking stupidly invasive questions.” James snaps before Sirius can.

“Or that he’s just a freak.”

Sirius spins on his heels and sends his fist into the boy’s nose before Remus can even register the comment; sending the boy stumbling back with a sharp yell. A chorus of gasps sound from the group of students, James yells “Sirius!” and Remus locks his hand around Sirius’ elbow before he can throw another hit.

Remus hauls Sirius away from the group and shoves him towards the corridor against Sirius’ will. The students yell at them to fuck off (which is stupid because that’s literally what they’re doing) and he knows James and Peter are following without having to look. He hopes the students don’t tell Dumbledore about this, but right now he’s too angry at Sirius to worry about that. When they turn the corner Remus stops and grabs Sirius’ arm, forcing him to face him.

‘What the hell was that?’ Remus demands.

‘He called you a freak.’ Sirius says, scrunching his nose like it's obvious.

‘So?!’

‘What do you mean, so?’ Sirius questions with a scoff. ‘He got what he deserved. He was being a dick.’

Heat flares in Remus’ chest. ‘I don’t need you fighting people for me. I can handle this shit on my own. I’m not some helpless, wounded dog you need to protect.’ His hands are moving so fast he wonders if Sirius can even follow along.

Sirius glares. ‘I never said you were.’ He scowls. ‘I would have done the same for all of you. I hit him because he pissed me off. Simple as that.’

His words don’t comfort Remus like they usually would, and maybe it’s the frustration that’s been bubbling in his chest for the past few days, but he’s tired. Tired of being treated with pity. Tired of having everyone’s eyes on him. Tired of the questions, the whispers, of being unable to utter a single word.

He’s being treated differently by everyone in the bloody school, and he’s fed up. James hasn’t once mentioned the scars, he’s been pretending everything is normal, which was fine at first, but now it just frustrates Remus. Peter hasn’t looked at him since the full moon.

Remus runs a hand through his hair and tugs at the ends. ‘Tell them to stop treating me like this.’ He orders Sirius. When Sirius looks confused, Remus hastily clarifies, ‘Peter hasn’t looked at me once. James avoids the subject like the plague.’ He gestures to his scars.

Sirius stares at him for a beat, but he turns to James and Peter, who’ve been watching the conversation in silence. “He wants you to stop treating him like he’s wounded.” He says. When James gives him a weird look, Sirius clarifies, “Pete hasn’t looked at him since the full moon, and you’ve been avoiding the subject of his scars.”

Peter looks guilty. He glances up to look at Remus and barely suppresses a cringe. “Sorry, Remus…” He mutters.

“I’m not avoiding the topic.” James says stubbornly with furrowed brows. “Personally, I think the scars look sick as hell. I just wasn’t sure if you were ready for that information yet. Don’t want your ego to get too big, do we?” Remus rolls his eyes.

Sirius turns back to Remus. “There you have it.” He says. Then, ‘I’m sorry you thought me hitting that dick was treating you differently, but I would have done the same regardless of the situation. Surely we’ve been friends long enough for you to know that.’

Remus flicks his gaze away.

“Remus.” Sirius calls. Remus looks at him again. ‘I’ve fought multiple people for James and Peter too, you know.’

This is true. Sirius has a habit of responding to assholes with his fists. Most of the people he fights are purebloods, too, who rely mostly on their wands and don’t know how to respond to an actual fight. It’s also just an uncommon occurrence for people to pick fights with the Marauders now that they’ve become more popular, and now that Remus has grown twice their height. Still, it happens, and nine times out of ten Sirius is there to shove his fist through their teeth.

‘I know.’ Remus replies bitterly. ‘I’m sorry. I’m just…’ He gestures vaguely, unsure how to put it into words.

Sirius softens. He slings an arm around Remus’ shoulders, forcing Remus to bend to match his height. “Let’s go eat.” Sirius suggests, leading them down the corridor. “I’m fucking starving.”

“Thank Merlin.” James murmurs. “Moony, we’re going to have to walk around with you all the time so this doesn’t happen again. Those assholes almost cost us our lunch.”

Remus rolls his eyes, but appreciation for his friends swells in his chest. He never thought in his life he’d have a group of people who understands him so well- he feels guilty for directing his frustrations for himself onto them.

Quietly, Remus says, “Thank you.” His voice is hoarse from lack of use.

Sirius beams at him. “Of course.”