Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
A/N: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand here's chapter 2! It took me quite a while to write, but I hope it was worth the wait!
Twilight
Remus has stopped crying. Now he sits silently in the corner of the basement, twitching occasionally. James hovers near him, wishing that there was some way of telling his friend he isn't alone. Wishing there was something he could do.
The sun has set completely, and they wait in the strange purple limbo between day and night. James can tell that it will be a bad transformation: Remus's breath is coming fast and unsteady, his teeth are chattering and every time his muscles spasm pain flashes across his face. When James draws closer, he can feel the fever heat coming off his friend in waves. (How he can feel it, James isn't sure. He doesn't have any nerve endings.)
James has always hated this room – its pathetic size, cold stone floor and dark, evil-smelling air do not do much to endear it to him. Now, he thinks, it has an unmistakeable air of sadness to add to its misery. Perhaps it is in the dark bloodstains on the walls or maybe the harsh lack of living friends to ease the transformation. Or perhaps it is the lone occupant, whose eyes are heavy with sorrow.
(There are silver hairs in amongst the brown and his shoulders bear the tired resignation of a much older man; and it just isn't fair because he's not yet twenty-two.)
They will all grow old without him, James realises. He has thought this before, but rarely has it hit him so hard. Remus will turn twenty-two all alone; Sirius will perhaps not even know the date of his birthday by the time it comes around; Peter will spend his as a rat; and Harry, little Harry, will perhaps not even be remembered on the day he turns two.
But they will reach those birthdays. And James? He'll remain forever twenty-one.
Remus's eyes begin to glow. By the time the change is complete the soft, warm brown will be replaced by amber; the sadness will be exchanged for rage. Their waiting time is coming to an end, now – in a few minutes the full moon will rise, and even as the world gleams silver his friend's mind will be overcome by shadows.
Remus shudders and a small moan of pain escapes his lips. He twitches ferociously, body humming with tension. Then suddenly he is completely still. His eyes rove around the room, and for the briefest of moments James could swear their gazes meet.
Remus is still, and James could feel relief; but he knows it is only the calm before the storm.
.
It is dark.
(Outside, that is. It's always dark inside Sirius's mind these days.)
By this, Sirius gathers that the sun has set and they are waiting for the full moon to rise. He curls up in a corner of his cell and imagines Remus doing the same in his own sort of prison. His breath comes a little faster and his eyes burn with tears that he won't allow to fall, because Remus is hurting and it's all Sirius's fault.
No. He mustn't think like this. He's innocent; he knows that he's innocent. It was The Rat. Not Sirius. Sirius is innocent. He killed James and Lily… he's innocent. He's innocent.
The self-loathing is the worst, because it consumes you without permission, and you don't need Dementors to go mad then. Sirius can't let himself feel guilty, because he knows that he's innocent.
(But on full-moon nights it's just so hard to remember that.)
It's been two months of imprisonment now, and Sirius won't let them break him. They can't break him, because he's Sirius Black and he's not used to being defeated. He can taunt his harpy of a mother and get away with it; he's the Slytherin in Gryffindor and he proved the Sorting Hat right; he's betrayed his friend because he thought it would be funny but Remus forgave him just like that. The world bends when he tells it to and he'll flaunt his survival just because he can.
(It has never been his way to be sensible.)
And full-moon nights have always made him reckless, because after all there is nothing quite like the thrill of playing tag with a werewolf. So he dangles happy memories in front of the Dementors' noses and smirks to himself as he snatches them away again.
After all, he's Sirius Black and for him, life's a competition that he always, always wins. And maybe the others – mature Lily, brave James and calm Remus – hated him for that, just a little bit, because they knew that sometimes you just have to lose.
And he has held his best friend's body and been framed for the crime of betraying him, but inside he's still the reckless teenage biker with the never-failing smirk. He clings to scraps of sanity and refuses to believe that they are fading, and he'll survive this place, because he has to.
And from the cell opposite, Bella laughs, because she knows the truth about their prison – and Sirius is innocent in more ways than one.
.
He won't let himself be scared.
Any other night, maybe. But it is Peter's fault he is in this mess and if Remus is going to suffer, he will too. Yes, he's cold, but Remus is shivering with fever; maybe he's terrified of being spotted by a predator, but Remus is about to turn into a beast; perhaps he wishes for someone to talk to but because of him Remus is wishing the same.
(He wants to be there; he does. Truly.)
The sky is a deep, velvety blue-purple. Peter keeps his eyes on the east, waiting for the hint of silver that signals moonrise. The hills around Ottery St Catchpole are calm and beautiful, but he can feel his heart racing with a mixture of excitement and apprehension – a remnant from nights spent in the Shrieking Shack or Remus's basement, waiting for the moon to rise.
There is a part of Peter that is running through the pre-transformation routine in his head and trying not to wonder how Remus is doing it alone. The wards on the door, concealing his robes, the waiting… He should have his friends there with him.
But, Peter remembers, Remus has done it alone before, hasn't he? He had been a werewolf for many years already by the time they mastered the Animagus transformation. It's not like this is anything new for him. He'll be alright.
(Peter has always been good at smothering his conscience.)
An owl hoots overhead and he jumps, scurrying back under the safety of the garden hedge. Was he always this skittish? Sometimes he is not sure whether his Animagus form reflects his character or shaped it. Maybe once he didn't squeak in fear at the first sign of danger. Maybe once his first instinct wasn't always to run.
(Maybe once, he would have been brave enough to reveal himself.)
But his life is a series of choices, and he made the wrong one in the end. Will you choose Gryffindor or Slytherin? Gryffindor – I can be brave when I want to be. Will you stay friends with a werewolf or betray him? He's still the same person. Will you break the law for him? Yes. Will you join the Order of the Phoenix; will you fight? My friends are doing it, so I will too. (And it doesn't matter if I'm scared.)
Will you tell me where the Potters live? Godric's Hollow.
And that, Peter supposes, is where he went wrong. Now the Dark Lord is fallen and his friends can't protect him, and Peter hides because maybe he wasn't a Gryffindor after all. (Gryffindors are courageous; Gryffindors do the right thing.)
Will you help your friend when he is suffering; will you be the person that he thinks you are?
(No.)
.
He's so cold.
As the fever increases Remus begins to shiver ever more violently. Ice is stealing over his body, claiming his hands and feet and slowly spreading up his limbs. The pre-transformation tremors are beginning, too; his back arches and his arms twitch.
Before, there would be someone sitting beside him, rubbing small circles on his back and keeping their arm around him to warm him. All three of his friends used to whisper words of encouragement to him: don't worry, it's alright, we're here for you. The first transformation after it, he tried saying them for himself.
(It didn't work.)
Remus's heart is thumping wildly, as if he is excited; as if he has something to look forward to. As the moon draws ever closer he is engulfed by bleak hopelessness, and the thin flame of hope that he somehow manages to keep alight for most of the month flickers and dies. What, exactly, is the point of carrying on?
The room shifts in and out of focus as Remus's head begins to swim; he wants to curl into himself but his muscles spasm too fiercely to allow that. The arms of the ghost-Marauders snake around his shoulders, but after all, the dead don't give much body warmth.
(Sirius, his Sirius, is as dead as the other two.)
He wonders idly if he is losing his mind: it surely isn't normal to visualise absent friends in your basement. Then he remembers that he is losing his mind, or will be shortly.
He shivers, blinking once or twice, and the ghosts of his friends as they used to be vanish. He doesn't mind – they only made him feel lonelier, knowing that he is the last one standing after the Marauders crumbled and fell.
The cold is unbearable, and the worst thing is that he's not sure whether it comes from the January night or the gnawing pain of loneliness.
His body twitches restlessly, helpless to the power of the moon. Remus wants to be still, to savour the last few moments of human sanity, but control has never been easy in the moments before. His spine arches once more and he gives a little whimper of pain.
(Maybe it's just that, an expression of the discomfort of aching muscles and burning head; or maybe it's a call for help that will never come.)
When the stillness at last descends upon him, Remus immediately wishes for movement again. His eyes flick around the room as sick claustrophobia rises up in him. The moon is very close now.
He waits quietly, and the deserted basement mirrors his empty, empty heart.
A/N: Again, I'm very sorry for the wait, but I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I'm now going to do some shameless self-advertising and direct you to the four one-shots I have posted in the meantime: Perfect, Counting Stars, Of Chocolate-Chip Cookies and Moonlit Epiphanies, and Strong Words. My friend Delta, whom I share this joint account with, has also posted an absolutely incredible story called Beside The Moonlit River, which I urge you to read!
Please tell me what you thought of chapter two in a review!
~Butterfly
