The moment he'd woken up on familiar grounds, Remus knew that a face to face meeting with a member of the Order was in need. With his senses painfully sharp, he knew just how close they were to the school. The scents in the air told him easily and when he lifted himself enough to see the lake before him and the school in dank morning light reflected in the water, he was alarmed. They'd been led there, he was sure of it. Had Abbatia used a Wolfsbane potion? It was entirely possible that this had been a test run. He'd wait until later to pass a judgment on her; right now he could barely focus on staying awake.
A day later, Remus managed to get himself out of bed, and defeated, borrowed one of McInnis' canes. He went out into the forest, and sent a message through his Patronus. He watched it fade off into the dark of the forest and waited. It shouldn't take more than twenty minutes, he thought. Twenty minutes out in the cold and wet snow was plenty longer than he'd like to be out there in the state that he was. He could feel the wet climate eat at his bones, saturate his lungs. He tried sitting, but it seemed to bring more pain than standing. He began to pace back and forth, which offered some distraction to the moon's damage. It took half an hour to get a response. The silvery light came bounding before him and he frowned; of all the days and of all the people to answer...
Tonks waited. She wasn't patient, half-heartedly building up creamers from the bowl beside her into little towers. The moment she'd gotten the message she'd taken a moment to respond and Apparated into the alleyway beside the cafe she was supposed to meet him in. She still hadn't sorted out how she felt about it, feeling some element of excitement, but feeling mostly fear; she'd found the notes in Sirius' room. The ones Remus had written.
She dreaded telling him, but at the same time dreaded knowing why he'd written so many nonsense notes. Those had been alarming, boxed away along with Sirius' clothes, belongings, their photographs. The photographs had been heartbreaking to look at, but the notes were a different story. They were confusing. There were messy scrawls and carefully shaped scripts. Added to the strange behaviour Remus had displayed before he left, it made her apprehensive of how to tell him, if at all. It was questioning his competency. It was questioning his mental health. Even in the wizarding world, mental health was still a taboo subject, something they had a shameful commonness with the Muggle world. It held as much stigma as being a werewolf. The two together left to the imagination of enough individuals would do much to damage his reputation. That's why she hadn't told anyone. Maybe it was selfish and arrogant, but it was protecting him. If there was anyone she should have told it should have been Dumbledore or Alastor. They'd know better what to do than her. It was too late now.
She heard the bells over the door tinkle. She didn't have to look to know that it was him, but when she did she saw that he walked slowly, pressing his weight delicately over the support of a cane. She'd never seen him use a cane before. He looked thin enough to know that he'd been neglecting meals, tired enough to show that he'd had a bad moon phase and beaten enough to prove that even the accelerated healing abnormalities invested in werewolves hadn't been enough to bring him back to his proper vigour. A cut over his hand tore over the blossom of a bruise, explaining his pained look each time he put his weight over the cane. She hated to think of the state of his other hand because the pain in that must be greater than the hand he had chosen to use.
"I've looked worse," he said mildly, slipping carefully into the booth. Looking to his lips, she imagined that his lips looked tender and swollen with the moonlight, but the poetic device did little to lessen the obvious hurt he'd suffered and the ugly cut marring the corner of his mouth. It'd probably split open again throughout the conversation.
"You always say that," Tonks chastised weakly.
"Not the last time you saw."
Tonks nodded stiffly, her mind quickly racing over the morning she and Molly had found him in a bloodied heap in the cellar; the reality of a werewolf.
A waitress came over to them, and for a moment her eyes drifted over his scars, and the damages he'd suffered but politely took their order instead of asking questions. Remus ordered two mugs of hot chocolate, making her smile. Out of the corner of her eye saw her hair take on a deeper shade, which made her blush. She could nearly guarantee that he had noticed and choose to ignore her, the knowledge hollowing her. Delicately, he curled a hand the broad part of the mug, avoiding hitting his hand against the inside of handle.
"They're close to the school. I didn't realize how close until the other morning. Abbatia put some excellent charms on the property, confusing the location from Muggles and Wizards, but each month they have to be taken down so that it doesn't confuse the pack. I'm sure you can imagine the havoc it'd cause with a pack of werewolves driven mad.
"How close?"
She wanted to take him home. Never mind this, just take him home and make him better. But would she be able too, even if she did get him out of here? It was too dangerous. How could he protect himself if he needed to? It was a whole pack of wolves. No matter how skilled he was, the likelihood of him getting out alive should he be discovered was greatly diminished by the sheer number he'd face in opposition.
"The pack can get there in less than an hour. One of the watchers is friendly with me; he said it took hardly any time at all."
Tonks nodded, alarmed by the information,
"How could we not know?"
"The magic protecting the property is...incredible. The witch who performed it is very proficient with defensive magic."
"You sound like you're infatuated," Tonks muttered disdainfully, barely a whisper.
"Pardon me?"
"You sound like you're infatuated with her skill."
"Well, I don't think that can compare. She does it with a fervor I don't possess. She's protecting her pack."
Tonks didn't answer, eyes fixated on the table. He already knew what she felt; she didn't have to risk making him feel guilty for rejecting her. They had little in common; he was right on that account. Hearing him talk about werewolves as though it were a completely normal condition alienated her. He hadn't ever done that before, but perhaps living with the others had normalized it. Or he was doing it on purpose. Her throat felt as though it were closing up. She tried to clear it, not wanting to cry over this. It was nothing, and she didn't need to make herself appear even younger to him.
"What about the other packs?" She eagerly changed the subject and looked up to him with the best face of business she could muster. Because they'd come here with a purpose, it'd seem completely legitimate. This was a meeting of business; she had to parry off any personal concerns. It did her no good to look at the damage wreaked over his body though. She found the same spot on the table and listened intently to the report.
He'd made himself close with the Alpha Female of the pack, he told her; the woman held a wealth of knowledge about the movements and affiliations of the other packs. She knew this, and did that, Tonks mocked in her mind. It was mean-spirited, but Tonks felt herself become jealous, more easily then she could have anticipated and did nothing to reason with the emotion. Of course, he wasn't actually only talking about her, he digressed many times into the associations with other members of the pack, but she was hearing most clearly about Abbatia.
"The pack is mostly undecided. Some of them are obviously against Fenrir and Voldemort, some in complete support, but for the most part they're on the fence. Nothing unusual, but I think if it came too, most of them can be coerced into working for Voldemort. We don't have many reliable friends. It's not as though were really know what we're looking for though."
Tonks eyes snapped up from the table to him.
"What?"
Remus inclined his head a fraction, eyes imploring her to clarify herself more clearly.
"You...wrote that down somewhere before," she said meekly, incapable of lying. The jealousy had laid her guard down and now she was carelessly confessing what she'd done. If she had a kingdom or mountains of gold, she'd gladly surrender it to become the mug of now cold chocolate on the table.
"Did I?"
"You don't remember?"
He shook his head no. Tonks sank further into her seat.
"I...was looking for something in Sirius' room. I was worried about you," she said quickly. His eyes went icy. She was going to regret this, she knew it, but continued anyways,
"I found a box filled with notes. I thought they might be important so a read a few...and then a few more. I'm so sorry..."
"You had no business going through there," he said with unfamiliar steel.
"I'm so sorry. I thought it might be important...I was worried about you!"
The desperation she felt was quickly devouring her prudence, and her voice felt biting in her throat as though warning her to stop. She felt like she was five-years-old again.
"I don't know why you'd write those things. I had planned to ask you about them more delicately...Remus, please, I-"
"You didn't have any right to go through those things. If they were important, I would have surrendered them over to the Order, not to overly curious hands."
Tears welled in her eyes before she had a change to suppress them and then fell just as quickly before she could wipe them away; human to fountain in approximately three seconds. It must be a record, she bemoaned, why isn't he hearing that I'm sorry!
They were all questioning his condition ever since Sirius died. Collectively, they wished the best for him, but seeing his eyes go into a livid storm, it was obvious that he hadn't thought of that. All he saw was an invader and maybe that's all she was. When she'd been reading over the notes she knew that she was passing a boundary but she was sure that it was out of well-meaning. Or selfishness; she hadn't shared it with anyone. She wasn't letting anyone else help.
"I'm sorry. But you have to know how it looks; I haven't mentioned it to anyone," she was putting her words carefully, "Remus, please, is there something that you haven't told us that we should know?"
His face didn't soften his eyes instead flashing more dangerously than ever.
"It's none of your concern. It doesn't effect what I'm doing here."
He left some money on the table for the waitress, and left. She felt responsible for each staggering step he took.
She hated to imagine what he would have done if he were well, noticing that his hands had been trembling with obvious violation. It wasn't that she thought he'd hurt her, she could never imagine that, it was that he'd more than likely hurt himself. He'd proven masterfully that he could do that with the greatest ease.
He'd been gone for the week. He'd done things he knew he shouldn't have, things he knew that Remus should leave him for.
"If you want something, you're supposed to come home and get it from me," Remus hissed through his teeth. Sirius stood defiantly, not moving a muscle even though every word dripped with venom and made haphazard incisions. He could see Remus' hand trembling, while his shoulders shook. Why am I doing this to him?
"And what do you want of me? I'm not the only one who leaves for days on end-"
"I leave because I can't stand to be in the same room as you!"
Sirius felt as though he'd been winded. He hadn't expected that. Any restraint and forewarning he had been paying note to disappeared into a plume of fury and he had his hands clamped onto the taller man's shoulders, shoving him backwards onto the floor. Sprawled on the floor, Remus looked back up at him and Sirius marveled at how he was all arms and legs when he was toppled over. With terrifyingly slow measure, Remus picked himself off the floor.
"Are you sorry?"
Being angry always took more energy than necessary from him, but because of the moon it had been even more draining. He was still angry; he could still feel it burning over his skin like a corrosive. He'd Apparated as close as he could to the manor, and walked the drive, grateful that it provided time for his temperament to cool even if it also prolonged his injuries.
How could she have looked through his things? Where could it ever occur to her that it was acceptable? Madness...
The chill breeze unaffectedly beat against his face, stinging his cheeks and nose. Pulling up the collar of his jacket, he looked up the gentle incline, though it seemed more like a cliff in his state. As he slowly made his way along, and he went over the things she had said and he found something he'd missed as the anger had been culminating. Now that it was flowing out of him by the distraction of his task, he could spot the bits of the exchange that hadn't quite fit. She said that he, Remus, had written the notes. An easy enough mistake he could argue, but it didn't fit properly. It was too much of a coincidence.
He started when something landed in front of him, flaming plumage obscuring the inquisitive tilt of the birds head with its brilliance at first; Fawkes. Word went quickly.
"Don't get so hysterical. You're such a woman sometimes," Sirius sneered. He looked Remus straight in the eye. They were bestial. They were terrifying. They were older, more worn down than he remembered. He used to be able to go on much longer against this barrage of anger and stupidity Sirius always managed to find and conjoin together. That probably wasn't true.
You're taking this out on me; stop."
Sirius could tell that he was trying to even himself, restore his sedate composition. It only egged him on though, challenged him to push him that little further.
"James would have been able to take it."
It was probably the most idiotic thing he could have thought of saying, seeing as it had little place and definitely the most disjointed thing he could have actually said out loud. He always managed to say the most thickheaded things, sober or not. It's enough to hurt him, Sirius thought, feeling their bodies collide violently, teeth knocking against each other. He tasted blood, metallic. Remus never made as much sense as he liked when he was angry either. It was hard to kiss him back and win. For Remus it was desperation, but right now, Sirius felt as though it were more of a contest. He didn't like to lose, but felt himself being overpowered. He didn't like it when Remus was like this. It'd only been like this a handful of times before, but Sirius knew that he'd always pushed until it happened. They'd both be ashamed afterwards, but it did succeed in making Remus human.
He tried to shove Remus off, stop this, but they were already too caught. The clumsy defense knocked them to the floor, dumbstruck. Recovering more quickly, Remus grabbed at Sirius' wrists, and pinned him, spread eagle. He felt very exposed; the monster inside Remus looked as though it would tear his flesh open.
"You'll probably win," Sirius said, looking away, underneath the bed to the shadowed patterns on the wall on the other side. The paper was peeling upwards. It was ugly, like the rest of Grimmauld Place. He felt the grip on his wrists loosen and release, and then Remus' curled body deflate overtop him without quite settling his weight. His head dropped into Sirius' neck.
"You did that on purpose," Remus growled, "You think it's funny."
"It's not. But I still did it."
Sirius lifted his arms and began to stand, lifting Remus as well, who had gone limp. He didn't deserve the constant fight that Sirius gave him each day. Tears threatened to well; Remus didn't know how well he was able to do that to people. Make them feel like less than they are. He didn't intend it, but it didn't hurt any less knowing that. Sirius rested one hand on the back of Remus' neck and used the other to wipe at his face. A diluted red appeared on white sleeve. He dropped the arm over the base of Remus' back so that he didn't have to see it. Just as he predicted, he wasn't proud of himself.
"I'm sorry you have to wait here," Remus muttered. His own limbs had regained their movement and settled around them in a gripping embrace. Sirius sighed. How did Remus always find the apologies first? Arms tightened around him, misinterpreting the weary exhale.
"There's worse."
Remus scoffed, muffled by his jacket,
"Not for you."
Not answering, Sirius tried to think of something else. But all he could keep thinking was that he wished he were taller so that he could be the one comforting Remus instead of the other way around. At his current height he felt more akin to a parasite than a comfort. It had always been in his top five insecurities with Remus, who somehow become something of a tower in the seventh year. The other four were all about how Remus reacted to things, or how he came to understand things. Those were easy enough to overcome, because Remus made sure of his coherency. He couldn't shrink though, not in any practical manner, anyways.
He turned Remus' face down to him suddenly, more roughly than he'd meant and backed off from the embrace a step. Remus didn't resist, his eyes searching Sirius' face for a clue. All he found was that Sirius was having difficulty saying what he wanted to.
"Love you," Sirius muttered. He meant it. He just wished that it explained more than it begged. He always felt like he was breaking when Remus smiled back forgivingly; he never felt that he'd deserved such grace.