AUTHOR'S NOTE: triggers for this part: mentions of self harm (not a major plot point i promise and whats mentioned is just sort of vague), vague mentions of child abuse, misgendering, james being kind of a transphobic asshole, blood, anxiety, internalized transphobia

The first time Remus Lupin died, he was five years old. He remembers with ease the feeling of teeth sinking into flesh, a fresh wave of pain every second of every minute of every hour of every day, an ice bath as punishment whenever he snuck out to kill because he couldn't help himself, the bloodlust was far too strong for him to handle by himself. He remembers the scars that crisscrossed over his back, thick and ropy where he clawed at himself every month because it was either that or kill another innocent animal. He remembers the blank stares of his parents, absent when he needed them most, glad to be rid of him when he was taken and put into the foster system with the other lost children.

His stutter, paired with his slim frame and tatty clothing, made him susceptible to bullying at the schools he was forced to attend. It was hell a thousand times over, but he got good grades anyway.

Albus Dumbledore gave him a home, which he had never had before. The seventh foster family in a row seemed glad to be rid of him, though the mother gave him a kind smile and a box of homemade fudge when he left. "I hope you find yourself a real family," she said. He turned away and hoped she had not seen the unshed tears in his eyes.

The second time Remus Lupin died, he was eleven years old. He was being tugged along by a boy he had known for two days, shouting something about getting back at that Malfoy kid. He couldn't remember how he had gotten there until he felt something altogether too familiar drip into his eye. His blood was thick and warm as it splattered down his cheek and onto his robes, pressed before he left by his old foster mother. At least it's mine for once.

He wasn't sure how, but he got to be falling against a stone wall, the breath knocked out of him, looking up at a leering boy with pale blond hair and grey eyes, hissing something foul under his breath. He watched, unable to move, as the boy from before lunged forward, throwing punches and insults at the other boy. He then turned to Remus, brushing his long, dark hair out of his eyes, and stretched out a hand to help him up. "You all right?"

That was how it started.

The third time Remus Lupin died, he was fourteen and a half and sitting in the Gryffindor common room, back to the roaring fire, knees drawn up to his chest. He avoided the stares of his friends, focusing instead on the crookedness of his fingernails, where he had bitten them down to stubs during one of his (frequent) panic attacks. He flinched at the thought.

"Jesus, Remus, what's so important that you have to get us up at one in the morning? There's Quidditch tomorrow," James complained, rubbing one of his eyes sleepily. Sirius nudged him sharply and shook his head. James shut up, which was a wise decision, as Sirius had seriously bony elbows that he was not afraid to use, even on his best friend.

"What is it, Remus?" he asked, unusually solemn. Remus opened and closed his mouth several times, unsure what to say. He had practised a speech in the bathroom mirror of the fourth floor boy's bathroom for an hour that morning, but every word seemed to have leaked out of his ears.

"I-I-I'm-fuck-"

Sirius half rose from his position on one of the comfortable chintz armchairs, but Remus waved him away, cheeks flaming bright red. He hated himself for stuttering, for making this even more fucking difficult. "I'm-I'm a-I was b-born as-I-I used to be-fuck, I'm s-s-sorry-"

"It's okay, mate, take your time."

Remus looked up at his friends, there for him from the moment they all arrived to now, looking so worried-or in James' case, slightly confused and annoyed that he was being kept up-and tears filled his eyes. He swiped at them angrily, breathing hard through his nose. "I'm t-tr-trans," he finally got out, spitting out the word like poison. "I was born as-as a g-girl."

Dead silence. His heart was thumping in his ears and he could feel the itching on his pale forearms start up, the first time in two months (the longest he'd ever been clean). No.

"What?!" James asked incredulously. Disgustedly, Remus thought bitterly. Disappointedly.

Sirius stood up slowly, as if scared of frightening Remus. Too late. He was on his feet, wand out, the fist that wasn't clutching it like a lifeline clenched so tight his fingernails were drawing blood from his palm.

"Accio James' cloak," he managed, voice raspy. And he was gone, leaving Sirius standing there, one hand outstretched, a thousand things unsaid.

Remus didn't hear what happened after he left.

"So Remus is a girl, big deal," James said after a while, giving Sirius and Peter an easy grin. "She's still one of our best mates."

Sirius was shaking as he turned to face James. "Don't you dare," he hissed. "Don't you fucking dare, Potter."

"Don't I dare what? Be supportive of her? Sorry, mate, I'm not quite sure what you mean."

"Remus is not a girl. He is transgender. If you call him a girl or use female pronouns for him one more time, I will hex you into next term," said Sirius, quiet but fierce. Peter glanced from one to the other like it was a tennis match.

James put up his hands defensively. "Sorry, Sirius, mate."

"Don't you fucking Sirius, mate me. Go after him and apologise, you ignorant ass!"

"Remus' gone and stolen my Invisibility Cloak, Sirius! I can't go after her-him-if I don't know where-he is."

Sirius took a step forward, so slow it looked like he didn't move at all. Then he pulled back his fist and punched his best friend square in the nose; there was a somewhat satisfying crunch of bone breaking and blood began to drip from James' nose, fast and thick.

"Get him to the hospital wing, Peter," Sirius spat, and went up the stairs to the dormitories.

The fourth time he died, he was fifteen and it was like being reborn. James had gotten better about his being trans (it took three weeks and four more broken bones courtesy of Sirius, but in the end he confronted Remus and he was able to explain things to James), due in no small part to his inability to be mad at someone so utterly reasonable as well as Sirius' disturbing prowess at breaking people's bones.

"Ah yes, another one of our heartwarming fireside conversations that have a tendency to only occur when there's Quidditch practise the next morning," James announced, but he sat down in one of the armchairs by the fire anyway. Sirius rolled his eyes and whacked the back of James' head, making his best friend wince and glare at him. Peter, unconfrontational as ever, seemed to shrink into one corner of his large armchair.

"Let him talk," said Sirius, and nodded at Remus.

Remus shot him a grateful smile. "I-last time this h-h-happened was when I t-told you-you know, th-th-that I'm-I'm trans. Jesus, I'm so sorry about this, I-"

"Remus, it's fine," Sirius said. "Honest."

Remus nodded and took a deep breath before starting again. "Well, th-this time it's n-not as big of a th-thing as that. Still pretty b-b-big, mind."

"Look, mate, nothing's as big as the time we found out that you turn into a gigantic bloody wolf on the full moon," James said. Sirius elbowed him, but grinned anyway.

Remus clenched and unclenched one of his fists repeatedly, cursing inwardly at himself for needing the repetition. He reflexively raised his thumb to his mouth, but realised that there was dried blood all around the fingernails-or what was left of them, anyway-and pulled it away, feeling nausea rise in his stomach. Stop it.

"I'm-I'm-I'm n-not-fuck-I'm gay," he managed. "I'm gay."

"Are you fucking kidding me? This is what you made me stay up for? Remus, mate, I could have told you that!"

Remus looked up at James, utterly confused. "...What?"

"We know that you're gay, Remus," Sirius said, a small smile quirking the side of his mouth. Remus forced himself to look away, feeling dirty. Peter nodded, speaking up for the first time.

"It's really not a big thing, Remus," he said, giving him a reassuring smile.

Remus snorted. "M-m-maybe not to you l-lot."

Sirius seemed to sense something, because he gave James a look. "Right, Peter, let's leave Remus alone. I'm exhausted anyway, plus there's Quidditch tomorrow, so-yeah."

Peter looked confused, but he followed James up into the dormitories, leaving Sirius and Remus alone. "Remus-" Sirius began, but Remus cut him off.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, not meeting his best friend's eyes. "I'm s-s-sorry. I'm like-like a fucking c-curse. Not only am I a werewolf, but I'm also tr-trans and queer and-and I h-h-have anxiety and I have a-a-a fucking stutter, and I-I'm-I'm so royally f-fucked up it's amazing I'm not d-dead already, amazing I haven't offed myself yet!"

"Don't. Remus, don't you even dare." Sirius' voice was low and hurt and Remus couldn't bear to look into his eyes because he knew how much pain was in them just by listening to him speak.

"I'm like a broken clock, Sirius," Remus choked out, words hollow (and of course this was the one time he was able to get a sentence out without stuttering once, because that was just his luck, wasn't it?). His voice cracked on Sirius' name.

Hands grabbed his, lacing their fingers together, squeezing tight. Remus looked up into Sirius' dark eyes, soft with something.

"No, you're not," Sirius said, gentler than he'd ever been before.

And he kissed him.