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-Cat

Disclaimer: J.K. is the creator and owner of all things Harry Potter.

Chapter 11

And Skinned of Being (Remus)

"Such anger, Lupin. But what could anyone expect from a beast?" The pain was a vice on his mind. He could not escape, could not run. He could not even fight… His identity was trickling away like sand, rubbing against his bones, agonizing…

Remus shot out of bed. He was in an unfamiliar room with unfamiliar walls, walls that crumbled in on him, held him down. A strong wind whipped around the room and roared in his ears. He stumbled and fell against the mattress, legs curled up against his chest. The hardwood floor was cold, like the floor in his nightmares. He grasped clumps of hair in his hands. Loud, sobbing breaths came like frantic waves and the wind howled. "Please, please, please…" He was slipping, drowning…

"Anchor yourself to something, Remus." Madame Pomfrey held his hand tightly.

Hyperventilating, vision graying out-

"Find something present and real. Hold on to it, let it bring you back."

Something real. He forced his head up and his eyes connected with the open window. The sky deep indigo, but the horizon was gray. Sunrise.

He drank it in, let the dawn fill him. Lavender, then the soft pink color of sea shells. He remembered sea shells. His mother collected them, set them on the windowsills.

And then Remus could breathe. The wind died. He was in his room in Kent Cottage. There were the gauzy curtains, settling back into place. There was his bookshelf. There were his hands. The left one quivered, and he curled it into a fist to stabilize it, making the scars stand out pearly white.

Inhale. Exhale. Just a nightmare, Remus. Get a grip. But he was losing control at the most unexpected moments.

He peered down at his right hand. The palm was pale in the dawn. Concentrating, he thought, Incendio. Blue flames crackled across his skin and died. With a sigh, he leaned his head back against the bed. The wandless magic that used to come so easily to him was now a struggle. He tried not to let the failure bother him, but it was a loss that cut deep. His magic had become unhinged with his shaken identity. The limp curtains mocked him. His nightmares could brew windstorms, but his broken mind could produce barely a flicker.

Down the hall he could hear Sirius saying good morning to Lily and James. Remus felt a moment of irrational irritation at the loudness of Sirius' voice, but it disappeared quickly. He couldn't sleep anyway. "Such anger, Lupin." He stood abruptly and went to his bookshelf, examining the titles to distract himself. Standard Book of Spells: Grade One, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.

"What could one expect from a beast?"

"I'm not a monster," he said out loud, glad of the silencing charms he had placed on his room. Standard Book of Spells: Grade Two. Second year of Hogwarts. With a sickening feeling, Remus realized he had a large, gaping hole in his memory where second year should be. No feelings, no sounds, nothing. Pushing down panic, he struggled to stop the ground from dissolving beneath his feet. Something important happened that year, something unprecedented. It changed his life.

"We solemnly swear that we will be bound as brothers until the end. No more secrets, no more hiding." Sunset in the hospital wing, glowing on their faces, flashing on James' glasses.

And the ground was back again. A piece slid back into place. But he still felt empty. Voldemort had gouged out his insides, left his head hollow, rattling with only a skeletal framework of his life. Since waking in the hospital wing, every moment was a battle to find the missing parts. He sewed together a good outer mask with what he had, but most of him was still lost.

Shaken, Remus looked away from his books. Sometimes they were a comfort. Today they were just another reminder. He needed to get out of this room.

He dressed and waited for James and Sirius' voices to vanish before emerging. He felt a little bad about avoiding them, but he could not deal with their twin gazes of helplessness this early in the morning. Usually so easy, their company was stiff and uncertain when it was just the three of them. It did not help that his fractured mind was unpredictable, seizing random moments to imprison him inside. At least so far, his volatile magic had remained controlled around his friends.

The kitchen was lit by lanterns and watery sunlight. Lily said, "Good morning" as she paid a disillusioned owl from Hogwarts for the Daily Prophet. Remus nodded tiredly and immediately headed for the tea kettle and made himself a mug of strong earl grey tea. Lily did not ask why he was awake so early and he was glad. Truthfully, he was always up at this time, but chose to stay in his room and dispel his ghosts in private.

"Mummy?" called a baby voice from upstairs.

"Coming sweetheart!" Lily replied. She grabbed her mug of tea and disappeared up the stairs. Remus settled at the table, enjoying the solitude. But the moment of peace did not last long. Lily left the Daily Prophet flat on the wooden surface. A title in the index column caught his eye: 'Beware of Werewolf: When Lunacy Meets the Full Moon.'

Remus almost ripped the newspaper in his haste to get to the right page. A picture of a snarling wolf stared up at him. Next to it, a curly-haired witch with rhinestone glasses winked, flourishing a long feathered quill. The caption read: by Rita Skeeter. Feeling ill, his eyes drifted to the article.

What do you do when the insane meets the deranged? On November 4th, werewolf Remus John Lupin was subjected to the Cruciatus Curse and tortured into insanity by You-Know-Who himself. Reportedly a vagrant werewolf (according to the classification of werewolf habitation released by the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures), Lupin had recently fallen in with the notorious werewolf, Fenrir Greyback. This is confirmed by an anonymous witness statement, "He [Lupin]asked about Greyback's pack, wondering where he could find them. Used to hang around Albus Dumbledore as I recall. Then he disappeared end of September." Greyback is proven to be in league with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. It is easily concluded that Lupin must have also been a servant of You-Know-Who. What he did to displeased him, we can only guess. Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore defends Lupin from the public eye. There are rumors that the mad werewolf was actually treated in the Hogwarts hospital wing for over a week after losing his mind. These events lead to several disturbing questions. Is Dumbledore at all concerned with the safety of the students of Hogwarts? Why is Dumbledore protecting an incurably insane werewolf who may have been in the service of You-Know-You? Should Lupin be allowed to continue his transformations in freedom if his mind is already deranged? Dumbledore seems to believe that the werewolf can be quietly controlled. Meanwhile, the Ministry of Magic's debate on the classification of a werewolf as Beast versus Being continues to be a hot topic of discussion. Does a case of insanity change this debate? I leave it to you, dear readers, to decide.

By the time he finished reading, Remus was trembling. He skimmed it again, feeling as though he was breathing molten lead and not air. It was beyond horrifying to be named a werewolf for the entire wizarding world to read. But this… He had been marked as insane. Stigmatized as a werewolf and a lunatic. Quite suddenly he felt dizzy and gripped the table to stop the kitchen from spinning. A roaring filled his ears...

Steam. Steam rising from his teacup. He focused, breath whistling in through his nose. Sounds popped back into existence, his ears ringing. The article was still open, so he crumbled it and threw it across the room as hard as he could. Sparks sputtered from his fingers, igniting the pages. He could not sit anymore so he stood abruptly and paced. Oh god, she'd named Dumbledore too. It was bad enough that Remus was exposed. Dumbledore would face ridicule because of him. He imagined the angry letters that parents must be writing with each passing minute.

He did not hear the floo, but he did notice James stumbling into the kitchen from the living room, glasses askew and ash in his hair.

"Lily!" he called, then stopped sharply when he saw Remus. His hazel eyes met Remus', unmistakably dismayed. They drifted across him, then traveled around the room, finally landing on the ball of paper, the folds rimmed with hypnotic, ember red.

"You read it," he stated. His voice sounded tight. Remus did not trust himself to speak, so he jerked his head and resumed pacing. James stepped forward, hand out, saying, "Moony, it's not true-"

Remus recoiled out of reach, struggling to control his emotions. His left hand was nearly seizing. He looked at the kettle, the stove, the window, anywhere but James' stricken face. "I know," he muttered. "I know it's not."

"That's right," James said. His voice was firm and grounding. He slowly lowered the offered hand.

"I'm not insane," Remus insisted, mostly to himself. He walked through the halls of Hogwarts, journal clutched in one hand…

"You're not. That woman is a vicious cow."

"She's reporting what she thinks to be fact."

"That does not justify bigoted trash. I ought to have her investigated…"

"Don't, Prongs. She'll just go after you too. I'm fine."

He wasn't. He knew that. James knew that as well. Remus was suddenly certain that James had rushed hear to tell Lily to hide the paper. With a surge of resentment, Remus turned away from his friend.

"Go back to work, James," he said flatly.

"Moony." James' voice was full of unspoken words. But he said none of them.

"Go back to work," Remus repeated. We can talk when I'm ready. When you're ready. He did not turn around until James had retreated and there was a rushing of flames from the living room. He slumped down in front of his tea. It was tepid and tasteless, but he barely noticed. Lily's footsteps decided the stairs.

"Was that James?" she asked, setting Harry in his highchair.

"Yeah," Remus replied. It came out sharper than he meant. A dark red eyebrow arched up her forehead.

"Everything okay?" She crossed the kitchen and pulled out a pan and an egg.

"He was just checking in," Remus said, wishing it sounded casual. "An article appeared in the Daily Prophet. About me. He was worried."

Lily chewed her lower lip, cracking the egg and whisking it. Her gaze wandered to the smoldering newspaper. When the egg was scrambling in the frying pan, she said softly, "He means well."

"I know," he snapped. Lily gave him a frosty stare of rebuke. They did not speak again until Harry finished his scrambled egg. By then, Remus' unexpected temper had cooled, leaving him guiltily swirling his cold tea. Lily had been a blessing since… everything had happened. And he was grateful that she did not tiptoe around him like James and Sirius.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. He took the dirty plate from her and brought it to the sink. Doing dishes the muggle way was usually soothing. How could he be so unbalanced by one article? Lily's hand landed gently on his shoulder.

"You don't need to apologize, Remus."

"Yes I do." He scrubbed harder. Distantly, a high voice was hissing "Crucio." "Just because I'm fucked up, doesn't mean I should take it out on you. Sorry," he added, glancing at Harry, who was wandering around the kitchen holding the stuffed Prongs.

"One day, you three are going to pay for the language he hears in this house," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"I don't usually-I don't know why I'm so-"

"Such anger-"

"It's okay, Remus. You're messed up. Not an excuse, but I'll give you some slack." Lily's bluntness shocked Remus into calm. Voldemort's voice faded away.

A crash in the living room reminded them of the other occupant of the house. Lily smiled wryly and went to repair whatever Harry had broken. When she returned, Harry on her hip, Remus had finished the dishes and was drying his hands.

"Why don't I take him outside for a spin on his broom?" Remus suggested. "He could use some fresh air, and frankly, so could I."

"That would be wonderful," Lily said with some relief. "I've got some things to catch up on." She handed the little boy to Remus.

"Moom and Boom!" Harry shrieked happily. Remus and Lily both snorted. Harry hung around his neck and bounced joyfully. Despite the added weight on his still strengthening legs, Remus chuckled. Harry's excitement was a perfect distraction from the heavier burdens he carried. He summoned Harry's little coat with a wave of his wand. He bundled Harry inside the warm lining and retrieved the toy broom.

The air outside was chilly, but in a way that was energizing rather than oppressive. A gauzy layer of clouds veiled the sun and scattered its pale light across the spacious yard. Harry laughed and zoomed along the towering hedges, toes skimming the ground. He only had one close call, which involved nearly running into the thick trunk of the solitary elm tree in the middle of the yard. Remus deftly softened the collision with a cushioning charm from his wand and Harry landed unharmed in the grass.

"Moom, tag!" Harry shouted. This was easier said than done. Harry was very adept at flying his little broom and Remus quickly ran out of energy. Instead, he sat on the grass and invented a new game, charming stones and pinecones for Harry to chase. Impressively, the barely coordinated toddler could reach out with a pudgy hand and bat the items out of the air.

"We'll make a seeker of you yet, cub," Remus said with a grin. "Maybe we can practice with a snitch next time." Harry managed to catch up with another pebble, so Remus moved on to a third pinecone...

"And it's Potter with the Quaffle, he weaves around the Slytherin defense, he shoots, he SCORES!" A deafening roar…

"Moomy!"

Blinking away the Hogwarts quidditch pitch, Remus realized he'd allowed the pinecone to fall immobile to the ground. Harry was scrunching his nose, a pout forming.

"More," he insisted. Remus quickly re-charmed the pinecone, which shakily resumed its course. He took deep breaths to slow his heart-rate. He couldn't be spacing out while watching a sixteen-month-old. But that memory… He had completely forgotten the Quidditch House Cup. James went on and on about it every year, how could he have forgotten? Every year was the same, the adrenaline, the rush of excitement, the cheering. Clapping James on the back when the Gryffindor team won, consoling him the two times they lost. The hazy impressions easily found connections in his mind and Remus felt a little less empty.

Eventually Harry got tired and floated back to Remus. He clambered off his broom and latched his arms around his neck once more. His little body was warm and relaxed. Remus stood and carried Harry inside. Deciding it was probably best to give Harry an early nap, he climbed up the creaking stairs.

Harry's nursery was set up across from Lily and James' room. James had charmed the walls to be a soft sky blue and the ceiling to be a galaxy of stars. Harry mumbled sleepily as Remus laid him in his crib. The toddler's small hands reached out expectantly and Remus filled them with the stuffed Moony, Padfoot, and Prongs. It was sweet, the way Harry was attached to them.

As his friend's son drifted into his dream-world, Remus lowered himself into the rocking chair. He tried not to be jealous of the easy sleep, the assurance of the soft toys, the simple trust. It was hard. He wanted James and Sirius back. He knew what was stopping him. The brief images of Sirius' turned back, the suspicious glares, the loneliness. James telling him the real secret keeper, realizing that the truth had been purposely hidden from him. These tangled with the happy days, the pranks, the jokes. With a lump in his throat, Remus struggled to separate them. But fear welled up again and he quickly withdrew, ashamed of the stinging in his eyes.

He could not find that Remus Lupin who was forgiving. He'd lost him. Rage, he could remember. Voldemort whispered it to him almost daily, "Such anger, Lupin" accompanied by his own voice hissing, "I never want to speak to you again." There had to be forgiveness somewhere in his soul. Or was it gone forever? Maybe Voldemort had taken that goodness from him. What was he left with?

A fog of depression rolled over him, so he mechanically stood and closed the mental door, hiding that demon. Hoping that perhaps if he ignored it, it would not grow. You're lying to yourself, Moony.

"Moony?"

"Yes?"

"You got a minute?"

"I'm not doing anything, Padfoot."

"Right. Um… about that article-"

"I don't want to talk about the article." Remus said this in a careful monotone, but shot a glare at James, who was behind Sirius' shoulder. James had the grace to look apologetic.

"I told him not to."

"Then don't." Remus directed his glare at Sirius this time.

"Well there's a second thing, actually," Sirius said. His brow was drawn in worry. Remus noticed for the first time that he was holding a piece of paper, turning it over and over in his hands. "Remus, I hate to ask this, but we need you to try and identify someone."

Remus felt a faint sense of surprise. "Who?"

"Well, we don't know who he is…" Sirius trailed away, apprehension filling his voice.

"Just show him the photo, Padfoot," James said. Sirius swallowed and held it out to Remus. He took the photo. His stomach plummeted.

His unpredictable memory supplied the name instantly. There was no mistaking the scarred face, the ragged clothing, the thinning soot-colored hair. The photo was black and white, but Remus could visualize the redness of the empty socket beneath the torn eyelid. The dead man was splayed across a cobblestone road, frozen horror his last expression.

"Remus?" James said softly. Remus realized that he had not spoken for several minutes. He handed him the photograph.

"His name is Declan," he murmured.

"Is he… a friend?" Sirius asked.

"No. But he was the closest thing I had to a friend last month," Remus replied. Sirius flinched. Remus kept his gaze on the photograph in James' hand. "He was a member of Greyback's pack, has a wife and a kid somewhere. I don't know their names. But you could look at old Ministry employment records. He worked for the Department of Magical Transportation a little over a decade ago. Or you could just check the werewolf registry."

"He's a werewolf?"

"Yes. You didn't know?"

Both shook their heads. "We thought maybe…" Sirius began, but did not finish. Remus knew that he did not want to say that Declan looked just like a feral werewolf would. Like what Remus should be.

"How did you know I could identify him then?"

James hesitated, but answered anyway. "There was a note pinned to him. Demanding that Dumbledore surrender you."

"Oh." Remus felt like his ears were filling with water. "How was he found?"

"Hogsmeade, this afternoon. His body just appeared. He'd been...he'd been tortured."

The water was in his lungs now. He struggled to speak. "So...so Voldemort is still after me. Even though I'm supposed to be insane."

"Do you-" Sirius paused and reconsidered. James finished the question for him.

"Do you know why?"

It was the first time anyone had directly asked Remus the reason Voldemort was out for his blood. Of course he had already asked himself that question. He asked himself every single day. The truth was, most of his time as Voldemort's captive was like a black hole in his memory. Every time he was brave enough to even try finding the answer, it would slip away. His memory would sputter painfully. Agony ripping at him, shredding his being, taking over… Then the inexplicable panic would set in, take hold of his mind and wrench his consciousness away with the brutality of the wolf…

Bones cracked and reformed, hair and fangs and claws, the wolf's mind was predatory, blood-thirsty, locking him away… "You're our friend Remus. The wolf is not who you truly are." Sirius approached and gently laid a hand on Remus' shoulder. Remus' eyes widened at the touch. A spark of hope...

"Moony? Moony, I'm sorry, you don't have to answer right now." Remus shook his head and realized that there were real, flesh and blood hands on his shoulders. James' concerned, spectacled face was close to his. The room spun. "Moony, please breathe."

Remus gasped. Oxygen flowed to his brain and his vision cleared. Find an anchor, find and anchor...the weight of James' hands. Sirius right beside him. And then he was back completely. His cheeks warmed. At least his unstable magic was still locked away.

"I don't know why he's after me," he said, panting.

"It's okay, Moony. It's okay. I'm sorry…"

Remus waited for his breathing to calm down. Then he said, "You can let go now." James released him, but remained close. The three of them stood like that, close together without speaking. Remus felt a rush of gratitude towards them. They weren't running away, like they'd promised.

"We solemnly swear that we will be bound as brothers until the end. No more secrets, no more hiding."

"You've lied to us before."

The moment burst like a balloon. Remus ducked his head and said quietly, "You should probably go tell someone that you've identified Declan."

"Yeah."

He waited for his friends to leave the office. They hesitated, but eventually he was left on his own. How do we move on from this? He sank down into his armchair and looked dejectedly outside. The sun was low on the horizon, lighting up the bare trees with gold. And there, several degrees above the golden branches was a pale near-circle. The moon was swelling. A shadow of old, familiar fear fell over him. Remus squeezed his eyes shut. Fear was always his battle, and now it was holding him back from James and Sirius. If only solemn vows were enough to stop mistakes from being made.

"A mistake. I think you won't do it again." His vision was overtaken by a black lake, ruffled by wind. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Sirius' arms were wrapped around him. "You're forgiven," Remus whispered. "And I'm sorry too."

And suddenly, the night on the shore of the black lake came rushing back. They had both made mistakes. Sirius had betrayed his trust, had made one of his worst fears come true. And Remus could not let it go. Combined, the two of them nearly tore the Marauders apart. But I forgave him. We're brothers and I forgave him because we needed each other.

Maybe he was broken. But he would never fix those cracks without his brothers. And they needed to mend soon. The wolf was coming.

a/n: This chapter has many angsts (yes, I know that's improper grammar). Things will get better eventually... -Cat