Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, a series of images from my own twisted mind, a story that JK would probably flinch in disgust at if she were ever to set eyes on it. I am sick, something I know, and something I embrace. These characters do not belong to me but I will take full responsibility for the grotesque thoughts and plots that ensue. I apologize in advance for the people I know I will offend.
This is SLASH, tender at times but mostly filled with angst. But do not be mistaken every moment, tender, passionate or angsty, sweaty and heated in filled with irrevocable and inconceivable love.
The Last Marauder
Chapter One
Of Lone Wolves and Suicidal Thoughts
The moon was soft in the night sky, a slit of a crescent among the glimmering stars. It shimmered brilliantly in its own reflection on the black watery surface below. The beauty of this moment would have been nothing less than phenomenal if he hadn't been the one looking down at it. The warm summer breeze blew the wisps of his long, thinning hair from his face. Despite the warm winds he shivered, pulling his jacket tighter around his neck.
He stood on the covered bridge looking down at the black water below him, memories of his years at Hogwarts haunting him more and more as the days passed, of his four best friends, and himself on that very bridge many years ago. As a new school year drew up on him he could hardly believe that his dream of becoming a teacher was finally coming true. He was going to teach the young witches and wizards of Hogwarts. He laughed spitefully, his voice weak and cracking. He was a teacher alright. He was this year's cursed defense against the dark arts teacher. How long would this last? Would he break the yearly record? Not likely.
He leaned his bony elbows on the railing of the covered bridge, looking down once more at the rushing water. If he jumped would he survive? Probably, Dumbledore was smart enough to put enchantments on every possible death threat on the grounds. And the school being a giant castle with many open windows, he assumed there were many of them. Once again that old man thwarted with his suicide ideas.
The newspaper clipping he held in his hand from early that day fell from his loose fingers and he watched it blow in the breeze, swishing around in the night sky, and blowing away into oblivion. The man idly found himself wishing that the breeze would blow the image from his mind as well. But no luck, even if he was to forget what he had read, it would be the talk of the wizarding world for ages to come. Slowly he started back to the castle, he needed to finish prepping for classes, but first he had to catch the knight bus to Diagon Alley to pick up some supplies he'd need for his monthly incidents, or as James liked to call it, his "furry little problem".
On that summer night you could find Professor Remus Lupin limping to Hogsmead, his mind stuck on that haunting head line, "Black Still At Large!" The image of his ex-best friend, and so much more on the cover, struggling against hands, screaming in fury, driven to insanity from Merlin only knows what. His heart wretched at the sight and he knew that it was going to be a long year, full of painful memories. Memories of his close friends James and Lily Potter on their beautiful wedding day, and their equally as beautiful but all around miserable funeral. Memories of his best friend Sirius Black's handsome face smiling, always smiling, that was before he turned out to be a traitor, something he would have never seen coming in the man he loved so dearly; and finally memories of his shy, timid and slightly uncanny friend Peter, being blown in to nothing but a finger.
Remus trudged silently, hoping for some sort of solace from this heart wrenching feeling in his chest. He needed a peace of mind, something to give him hope.
This is why he was here at the school this year he reminded himself in a chiding tone. He was determined to see the boy that he hadn't seen in twelve years. The young wizard with his mother's beautiful jem-like eyes and his father's everything else. This was Remus' only chance of ever knowing James and Lily's son, his last chance at being anywhere close to the people of his past.
He was the last Marauder, he was lone and ironically enough he actually was a wolf. He could do nothing to stop the pain in chest, the hollow pit in his stomach and the ever growing thorns in his side.
He is the last Marauder, and this is his story.
