(Minutes Before Midnight - 31 December 1977)
A war boomed beyond those grounds, but to their adolescent minds, all they could picture, all they could feel, was the music that blasted through that room. It traveled into the building blocks of that home, right into the pavement, and transferring into their soles every time they bounced against it. The energy traveled up their spines, igniting each of them into glitter and fireworks. More toxic than alcohol, than any substance they could consume. Together, they were one; all and every single one of them letting the sounds and words of KISS and David Bowie make their decisions for them.
These were the last licks of complete indifference to whatever occurred outside their insular lives, and they all knew it. And they took it by the hand and spun that last lick into gold, insuring that it would last as long as it could before dying out. In there, not even the winter could touch them. Sweat wrung off their brow bones, trailed down their backs, staining ironed shirts and causing layers to be torn off without a single care where they landed.
He could say he was happy for them. Happy because they were happy, able to enjoy themselves, ignore their problems. But his forced grins and chatter about the forecast only left him feeling heavier and heavier. He knew someone would figure it out, look to him while wearing a wrinkle in their forehead, that last lick dying before his eyes as he was left to scramble and huff it back to life.
But there was no need to scramble, all he had to do was quarantine himself from them. Leave them to enjoy the music, the whiskey, while he waited outside until one brave soul admitted that they were quite ready to pass out and be carried home.
Remus brought the near finished cigarette to his lips, squinting his eyes as another cruel wind blew by him. The hair that landed over his forehead blew to one side, the cracks in his outfit allowing the cold in. He closed his eyes, unbuttoning one of the buttons on his wool coat, cooling down his too hot skin.
"There you are!"
The cigarette he had between his thumb and index finger pressed down into the bannister. It left a ring of ash behind, Remus tossing the rest of it over the edge of the patio and onto the snow-blanketed grounds.
He raised his brows, her giggles filling up the silence and growing closer with every step she took towards him. The door came to a close somewhere in the distance, and seconds later, Lily appeared at his side, arms clutching her torso, pulling tighter on the yellow shawl across her shoulders.
"What're you doing out here? Everyone's been looking for you!"
Remus lifted his chin, darting his eyes to the corner to catch her growing-concerned expression. He forced a smile, running his tobacco-reeked fingers through his hair.
"Came out here for a smoke," he replied, his tone pensive and clearly preoccupied.
Lily's eyes roamed over the dark expanse in front of them, only the lights on top of the gate in the distance illuminating the grounds. The could only see that which laid in the close proximity of the house, everything else left to the workings of the mind and its imagination.
"It's bloody cold out here," she noted as she wrapped her arms around Remus's. He let her rub her cheek against his upper arm, falling back into his palace. "You should come inside, countdown's in 20 minutes."
Lily tilted her head upwards, warm enough from the firewhiskey that the cold was only obvious through her chattering teeth and the goosebumps on the swell of her breast.
"Remus?"
"Yeah?"
"Did you hear a thing I just said?"
"Yeah," he sighed, knowing he was doing the opposite of what he wanted. "Needed some air, could barely breathe in there."
"I know! The windows have fogged up and everything," she agreed, laughing. Remus leaned his head back, looking up to the sky. There were no stars that night, only grey clouds lurking over them.
He clenched and unclenched his left hand, pushing all the tension held up inside him into those pumps. With no idea where to go from there, how to proceed. When he was young, sometimes he thought that the images in the clouds were messages sent by the wizards of the past. They would guide him, point him in the right direction, but every arrow in that moment seemed to be pointing to worse or worser.
The best group of friends to have ever lived, he thought, remembering James' words from their third year, just after they had discovered his secret. Remus closed his eyes. Once a memory to smile about, the wistful grimace on his face looking nothing of the sort.
What had he done for this to happen, for this to be their end? What had he missed? Did a piece from the puzzle fall and hide underneath the couch? Stuck with his head in his books, running back and forth between tutoring strangers and protecting the school, that he had never once stopped to look at his own. Peter had fallen behind somewhere along the line, and no one, not even he, had noticed. That didn't seem like the best group of friends that had ever lived to Remus, not by a long-shot.
"Remus?" He woke from his stupor, looking down to find Lily shaking him.
"Yes, yes. Yeah, everything all right?"
"Me?" Her chin leaned forward, her eyes wide. "What about you? How long have you been out here?"
"I like it out here," he stated matter-of-factly.
"You're going to fall ill!"
"Merlin, Lily, I don't need you playing mother right now," he muttered, reaching into his pocket for another cigarette. Her eyes narrowed in on his fumbling fingers, watching the end of the stick turn to an orange glow before looking back up to him. "I've got enough on my plate, no reason for you to be out here. Go back in with the rest of 'em, enjoy yourself. It won't last forever."
"What the bloody hell are you on about, Remus?" She clutched at his jacket, listening to him sucking and inhaling the smoke. His eyes turned to slits, a small shake in his head with a wry smile coating his lips.
"You know that thing they say? The one where it talks about life being a bitch?" He turned to look down at her, the shit-eating smirk ever present on his face. "Yeah, well, they've got a bloody good point." He let out a short, eery laugh, causing Lily's brows to scrunch and turn upwards. "Whatever, I suppose I deserve it."
"That's not true, you know that. Remus, what're you saying? What's happened?" she fretted. His fingers continued to claw in and out, feeling the short edges of his nails digging into his calloused palms. His jaw tensed, a breath held inside his lungs while blood boiled. He could feel it, his control coming undone, what he had tried so hard to avoid since that afternoon. "Come on, what's wrong—"
"Nothing, it's nothing. Just… go back and enjoy yourself, please. I've got this, I'll figure it out," he implored, leaning his palms against the railing. Lily took a step back, her eyes leaving her hands that held his arm and moving up to his face.
"I'm your friend, Remus. Let me help—"
"Lily," he snapped, taking in a deep breath to regain his composure. "Stop looking for something to fix. You can't, not this, not me, not— there's nothing here."
"I'm not trying to fix anything, I—"
"That's rich coming from the person who spent five years trying to mend a broken cause," Remus snapped, his passiveness turning into a cold bite. An indignant snort left him, quickly turning into a derisive chuckle.
Her jaw slackened, her nose lifting upwards as she crossed her arms over her chest and sent him a scolding stare.
"You want to stand out here, in this weather, feeling sorry for yourself?" she asked, a sneer maturing on her face. "So be it. Do whatever the bloody hell you want, but don't take out your frustration, or whatever stupid little thing's making you feel this way, on me."
Remus closed his eyes, bit down on his lower lip, and stomped one foot to the ground. He shook his head, scrunching up his entire face as he fed himself the pain. The shadow that creeped inside of him had a tendency to crawl out — turning a lovely night into a dismal scene — and he had let it. Behind him, the door opened and shut, signaling that he was, once again, alone.
Emotions spun inside him: guilt, confusion, betrayal, and failure— a whirlpool sinking three thousand ships all at once. There was no control of who went where, whether it was blue or red, it was all turning into one inside of him. He didn't know whether to cry, to yell, to laugh. Everything swelled, kicked, began to irritate and burn in his sides until all that he could do was pull his fist back and smash it into the bannister.
"Fuck," he snarled, holding the bleeding knuckles to his chest as he bit down on his lip. The physical pain was good, temporary; the physical pain was familiar, something he could handle, deal with, heal. The earthquake underneath his feet, he could not, he wasn't nearly powerful enough for that. But he needed a solution, to find one, to make sure they came out of this in one piece. There had to be an answer stuck in the back of the closet, a word on the tip of his tongue. He could sense it, but it seemed stuck, gummed down to that one spot, and no matter how hard he pulled, he could not get it out for the life of him.
Long, sleek fingers pressed into the underside of thin, pink lips, while eyes narrowed on the sunflower-colored yoke that slipped down a glass and into James' mouth. Sirius looked away, a grimace plastered on his face as the redhead next to him picked up her own glass and downed identical contents.
James' head wrung like a wet dog, shivering at the taste of pending salmonella slithering down his throat. He could sense it sitting at the pit of his stomach, jiggling back and forth like Lily's mother's jellied salads. There was a distinct green tint to his features, eyes almost rolling back into his head as he fell back into the couch.
"What exactly was in that?" Sirius asked, gulping, causing his Adam's apple to pop out. He could feel last night's festivities threatening to come up, picking up his pitch black coffee, and having a go at it in the hope it'd mollify the hangover. "You know, besides the raw fucking egg."
"Worcestershire sauce, squeezed tomato, vinegar," Lily listed. Sirius brought the edge of the cup back to his lips and took a longer gulp. "Hot sauce, salt-"
"Got it," he said, cutting her off as his stomach flipped and flopped like a fish out of water.
"I think I'm going to be sick," grumbled Peter from his side.
"You should try it, my father swore by it," Lily insisted, raising her yolk-covered glass to them. Sirius lifted his hand, shaking his head and holding his forehead in his fingers as he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath.
"You'd think," he began, smacking his lips together while bringing the coffee up for another sip. "Fleamont — being a renowned potioneer and all — would have some sort of Hangover Potion laying about."
"Doesn't want to encourage it," James responded through a yawn. He lifted his body forwards, stretching his arms back before settling down with a hand reaching over Lily's shoulders. She shifted, placing a leg over James' as she grabbed hold of his shirt and snuggled into his chest.
Their sudden movements caused Sirius' head to sway, forcing him to look to the doorway while his fingers clenched around the scalding mug.
"It's four in the afternoon," he noted.
"Meaning what, exactly?" James inquired, following his friend's gaze to the open door.
"Where's Moony?"
"Still sleeping?"
Sirius sucked his teeth and shook his head.
"No— where's he been? He disappeared last night, ghosted everybody. No one could find him— where the fuck—"
"He's not feeling well," Lily said in a low voice, leaning forward to pick up her milky tea.
"He's not?" James asked as she repositioned herself against him. "Should we send for my Healer? What's he got? The full moon was two weeks ago—"
"No," Lily sighed. "It's not that, something's happened— I, I don't know what. It's making him bloody upset, though, like he gets when he's miffed 'bout something. Lashes out at everybody."
The hand Peter used to hold his biscuit dropped to his lap, forcing down the bits that stuck to the walls of his dry mouth. He picked up the tea that sat against his hipbone, swallowing near all of it to get rid of the extra dose of nausea that caused his body to flush with heat.
"Lashes out at everybody?" repeated James, sharing a look with Sirius. "Why, who'd he lash out to?"
"It doesn't matter," she replied, shrugging her shoulders. "You know he'll feel worse if we badger him about it. Let it pass, he'll come back with his tail between his legs like he always does."
"Fuck that," Sirius said.
"What? Where're you off to?" James asked, watching Sirius as he stood up — coffee cup in hand —and began to exit the room.
"To go wake the bastard up. He's ignoring us, can't you fucking see that? And, I'm starting to get sick and tired of this shite." Without another word, Sirius disappeared from their view and only the sounds of his slippered feet squeaking against the marble staircase made them aware of his presence. James took a deep breath, lifting up his chin and looking to the ceiling.
"All right, love, be back back in a jiffy," he announced with a light pat on Lily's thigh.
"He won't tell you," she told him, removing her legs from his own to allow him space to stand up. "He wouldn't even tell me."
James looked away, lifting his brows as his index finger lifted to scratch at one.
"Sounds like bird trouble, then."
Lily scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You think Remus doesn't talk to me about girls?"
"Not if he couldn't get it up," James quipped, winking one last time at her before reaching over the table and stealing a biscuit from Peter. He, then, stepped over her legs and followed in the same direction that Sirius had gone seconds ago.
He jogged up the stairs, counting every step he took before landing on the first floor. His head swiveled back and forth, searching the corridors until he finally heard a grunt to the right. He followed it, squinting his eyes through the dimmed halls, and catching sight of Sirius' hands on the doorknob. He rocked it back and forth, attempting to open it as he pushed against it with his shoulder.
"What're you doing, Padfoot?" James asked, leaning against the wall to its left.
"Locked the fucking door."
"So?" James shrugged. "He always sleeps with his curtains drawn— Remus likes his privacy."
"Good, glad your memory's in check," Sirius retorted. "Still need to open the door if we're going to get to him."
"Well, all you had to do was ask," James whispered, running his palm over Sirius' arm while blinking coquettishly. He licked a tongue over his lips, both of them watching one another before Sirius bursted out into a chuckle.
"All right, you prick, get on with it."
"Move out of the way. This is a job for a man," James said, placing one hand over another fisted one and cracking his knuckles. He tilted his head both ways, another satisfying crank letting out before reaching into his waistband and pulling out his wand. He placed its tip to the doorknob, staring at it intently before casting, "Alohomora."
A sharp click! resounded from the lock and into the hall, the door creaking open.
The room was dark— the curtains closed, the covers drawn up and over Remus' body. Sirius didn't waste a minute, sliding past James and approaching the bed. His hands reached for the covers, throwing them off the bed before he took three steps back and then flung himself onto Remus.
"HOLY FUCK!" Remus yelped, shooting upright, but not succeeding because Sirius had his torso pinned to the bed. He gasped for air, scrambling to push him off his chest, kicking while the other two shared a laugh.
Eventually, Sirius rolled to the other side of the bed, clutching at his stomach as tears welled up in his eyes. Remus' face scrunched, groaning in response to the soreness throbbing in his chest. He rubbed his eyes and ran a hand over his face as he felt the distinct winter morning film coat his skin.
"So," Sirius began, his fingers playing with the corner of the comforter. "Sleep well?"
"Why the fuck— what the fuck was that for?"
"It's four o'clock," James stated. Remus turned to look at him, blinking his eyes wider.
"So, that means body slamming me into the bloody bed?" Remus brushed another hand through his hair. "Fuck, I wonder what would have happened at five— thrown me out the fucking window or what?"
"No, but we'll keep that in mind for next time," Sirius retorted, before reaching out his hand and tapping a finger against Remus' knee. "D'you know, Moony, that last night was the first time in five years we didn't count down all together?"
Remus' face fell, inhaling a bout of breath as he pursed his lips and nodded.
"Yeah, I was— I don't know, I was rather tired."
"Then why'd Lily tell us you lashed out on her?" James puzzled, his eyes narrowing. Remus chin leaned forward, his eyes darting everywhere but to his friends' faces.
"Is that what she said?"
"Those exact words," answered Sirius.
"I suppose the music— sometimes when it's that loud, it can get to my head."
"Let me understand— you didn't count down with your best mates because of what, exactly?" Sirius let out a snort, his head flinching as he looked to James with a rigid smile.
"I was feeling poorly," Remus reiterated, sighing as he lifted his hands to drop them again. "I'm sorry—"
"I have seen you go to class with 103 degree fever, but you couldn't use ten seconds of your time to count down with us? A tradition we've kept since our first New Year's Party."
"Sirius—"
"It's our last year at Hogwarts," he continued, bowing his head to look Remus in the eye. "It's our last party, the last one like this, and it was supposed to be the party of a lifetime. Where were you?"
"Fucking hell," Remus muttered under his breath. "I said I'm sorry!"
"Sorry," scoffed Sirius, shaking his head.
"What about Marjory?" James asked. "She looked for you all night."
"What about her?" repeated Remus.
"She fancies you, you know? But you don't seem to care about that, or about anyone, really," Sirius finished for James.
"Please, stop the theatrics." They were the wrongs words, and Remus swallowed the rest before he could finish, instead looking down to his wringing hands. Sirius' eyes grew wide, a contemptuous snigger coming from him as he looked between his two friends.
"We're your best mates," Sirius bit back, his nostrils flaring. "Or we're supposed to be, I thought we were. But, for some time now, I can't help but feel like you're trying to get rid of us."
"That's not true—"
"What is it, then? Found someone better, is it?"
"No, of course not, please," Remus almost begged. He could feel the whirlwind showing up again, the beginnings of it as a dry, dead leaf fluttered by to announce its present threat. "I just, I only need some time to, to think."
"We could help you, mate. You don't need to do it all alone," James told him, taking a seat at the end of the bed. Remus shook his head.
"No. No, not this time."
Sirius clenched his hand, bringing it to his lips and biting down on his knuckles.
"Well, figure it out fast, real fucking fast," he advised Remus. "And take a fucking shower, you reek."
Without much else left to say, he picked himself up from his friend's bed and walked over to the windows. One grand pull, and the curtains were wide open, letting in the infamous blue light. Remus' forearm swung up, covering him from the sudden attack, scowling all the while.
James didn't take his eyes off him, peering out their corner to him. He knew Remus, they both did. They knew that he believed isolating himself would insure everyone's contentment, even safety, but he failed to realize one thing. What he couldn't quite grasp, even after so many years, was that the ones who loved him wouldn't abandon him without great struggle. Seeing him that way, under the covers as the sun came down, didn't sing to anyone's tunes. If anything, James couldn't help but feel worse than he had waking up that morning with an anvil to his skull.
Sirius walked back over to the door, nudging James on the shoulder to get him up and going. They both walked out, Sirius turning back around to watch Remus searching about for a missing sock.
"Take the fucking shower, now."
(7 January 1978)
The rest of break passed without so much as a second glance from Remus. A week ago he had felt his legs coated in led, but it seemed to have spread to every other part of his body. Arms, neck, even the tips of his toes felt heavy and squished inside his well-worn boots. But he played with along, allowing them to puppet him and place him where they needed him to be, dictating his movements, even when and how loud he should laugh.
Their days had passed with many of its hours asleep; their nights, however, filled with different companies in various cities. An evening in London, another in Puddlemere— every day a pick from the hat and off they went. Apart from their journeys, Remus had waited by the window, watching the distance while a cup of tea shook in his hands. He'd even taken on a nasty habit of cracking his knuckles, not sure what else to do with the tension in his tendons.
Thoughts of returning home had popped up every now and then, having to hold himself back because he knew he'd want to be there when the letter came for them. But nothing had. The only owl that had come was Merry, and another he had recognized from Hogwarts' owlery— which had almost sent him into an epileptic shock until he had realized it was only Eva.
And somehow, a handful of days later, he found himself with his temple pressed against the all too familiar Hogwarts Express window. His arms crossed over his chest, staring out as the train gave one last hoot, and they began to roll out of the station. Remus slouched down even further, stomach churning as his knee jerked up and down, trying to figure out how and why they were on that train.
He glimpsed over at his friends. Sirius held a folded Daily Prophet, lips downturned as he skimmed the headlines; and Peter attempted to scrawl out mediocre answers on his procrastinated holiday assignments. James and Lily were off, supposedly doing train rounds, but knowing they were more than likely snogging in a vacant compartment.
Remus, sitting opposite from them both, felt his eyelids threatening to close. It was the first time in two weeks that any of them had woken up to the sun in the east, and he wished more than anything that he could be back in a bed.
He closed his eyes, taking advantage of the free space, and lied down. With a slowing breath, he shoved away all questions of his current reality and replaced it with nothing of great importance.
"Oy, Moony!" A voice broke out into the silent compartment. Remus groaned, a warm hand laying on his shoulder, shaking him awake.
"Remus," he heard a gentler voice whisper into his hear. A hand ran through his hair, causing him to pout and nuzzle further into it. Lily let out a light laugh, looking up to James, who mock-scowled at Remus. "Remus, it's time for your rounds."
"What?" he grumbled, turning his face to the opposite side, towards the cushion. "No, no rounds."
"Please, there's been an accident with one of the prefects, and we need somebody to fill in."
Remus opened his eyes, flipping his head back over so that he could look directly into Lily's eyes.
"I thought there was some sort of benefit to being best mates with the Head Boy and Girl," he said, sitting up. With a great big yawn, he planted his feet onto the floor and stood up with a cat-like stretch. "Okay, rounds, yeah?"
"Yeah," James began, biting down on his bottom lip to stifle a grin. "With Mustaq." Remus' jaw slackened, his eyes darting between Lily and James to insure that this wasn't some joke to get him to wake up.
"Sykes has been sick in the loo since the train left," Lily added quickly, noticing her friend's fallen face.
"We suspect he's taken something," James continued, pursing his lips and leaning against the compartment door.
"The bloke is a walking apothecary," said Sirius, snorting. "How'd he even make prefect?"
Remus let out a minute groan, giving one last pointed look to James before surrendering with a sigh. He flicked his chin over to the now empty seat, signaling to James to move over and let him through.
"Don't worry, if you're not back in an hour— we'll tell your parents you love them," Sirius taunted, both him and James sharing in a laugh. Lily rolled her eyes, but not helping the grin on her face.
"Make sure Billy's well fed, too," Remus added on before letting the door slide close and walking off into the corridor.
Passing through two carriages, he eventually arrived at the Prefects compartment. He put his forehead to the glass, peering inside to see if she had already arrived. But when he saw that no one had, he opened the door and poked his head in.
"Hello?"
He sighed, shaking his head as he stepped into the compartment and walked over to the round table to have a seat. Remus allowed himself to get comfortable, dropping down into the chair, his hands folded across his stomach, and his legs spread out in front of him. But, all of sudden, he began to feel warm; he could feel heat rushing into his cheeks, the itch of his jumper uncomfortable against his skin. The back of his hand reached up to press against his forehead, frowning when he concluded that it wasn't a fever. He shifted, shoving up the sleeves of the knit and sitting back into his seat.
Minutes passed, or maybe it had been seconds, but Remus sat upright, running a hand through his hair and feeling droplets of sweat accumulating across his forehead. He picked himself up, taking to waiting in the corridor, wondering if he should take the initiative and go control the entire train solo. It'd take a good while, opening up each compartment, make sure no one was sticking their friend out the window, but what choice did he have? Either that or wait an eternity.
The cool air rushed through him like iced water on a hot summer's day. He felt himself breathing again, his head defogging, pressing the back of his neck against the cold window. As the countryside rushed behind him, he did a full circle with his head, cracking the sleepy bones in his neck, closing his eyes to relish in it.
Further down the corridor, he could hear a compartment door slide open. He turned to look at it, but before he could even get past their shoes, something hit his ribs. He looked down, brows scrunching together, before a gush of pain jolted through his entire body. His breath halted somewhere in his trachea, completely escaping him. A scalpel-like feel stuck in his stomach and twisted it about, ripping at his insides, causing him to clutch it while falling to his knees. He reached out for the wall, a door, anything to give him support, but all he could find was the floor.
Another lash came out of nowhere, hitting him on the other side. Remus let out a half-wheeze, half-yelp sound. His vision began to turn black, the world tipping back and forth like a balance scale. All he felt next was his nose smacking into something and pressure on both shoulders.
"Come on, Lupin," someone grunted. They shoved their hands underneath his underarms, picking him up onto his jiggling legs.
He was dragged somewhere, something soft cushioning his bottom as his entire body leaned against a wall. A wave of nausea washed over him, and his stomach contracted and spat out its contents before anyone could do anything. It smelled acidic, coming out and spewing all over his lap, so that he could feel it soaking through his trousers.
"Scourgify," someone casted while he continued to chase his breath. Short and shallow, though he knew it would only make him feel worse. Thankfully, the scent of rotten food didn't linger, making it more bearable as tears began to run down his cheeks.
Sofia Mustaq sighed, knitting her brows together, frowning as she surveyed the Gryffindor. He was ashen and faint, not yet able to lift a finger or open his eyes.
"Chocolate," he croaked, the one word coming out in a sharp breath. She didn't hesitate, knowing what to do, reaching forward and beginning to pat down his pockets. Once located, she cracked off a single square, breaking it into two and placing it on his lips.
It melted against the heat his body let off; the sugar and the bitterness doing its job, beginning to twitch and gain control of his fingers and his toes. All he had to do was focus on the feel of the dark, rich thickness on his tongue.
"Low blood pressure, huh?" she asked. He nodded, taking in a deep breath as she placed the next piece to his lips. "Yeah, my brother carries around dark chocolate, too— salt works better."
Remus wished she would stop talking.
"Fine, I won't say anything," she muttered. His brows furrowed, daring to open up his eyes — fearful that the world may still be shaking, content when he found it wasn't. He reached into his pocket for another square of chocolate.
"I didn't tell you to not say anything."
"It was rather obvious," she drawled, running both hands over her bottom as she took a seat beside him.
"What happened just now?"
Sofia pursed her lips, eyes darting up to the empty trunk rack and back down to his face. She crossed her legs, pressing her elbow into the one that sat on top and leaning closer to him.
"It would seem that Antonin Dolohov has invented his own curse," she explained, her words elongated and slow. "Which would come as a surprise seeing as he's such a fucking idiot. But..." She titled her head, batting her eyelashes at him. "It is rather impressive, never seen something like it before."
"What?" Remus asked, his jaw coming unhinged. His eyes glimpsed over at the compartment door, which Sofia had covered with the blinds. "Dolohov did this to me?"
"No."
"But you just said—"
"I know what I said."
"Then, what? Who? Why would—"
"Evan."
"Rosier?"
"The one and only."
Remus took a deep breath, lifting himself so that his back sat straight against the seat. His hand reached up, wiping away the sheen of sweat from his hairline, thinking over the Slytherin witch's words.
'Nott, Snape, Dolohov, Rosier,' he recalled Peter listing. They had attacked him first, then what, came after him? As if it were some sort of list. Except none of that made sense. What reason did they have to attack him when they were planning to expel him? They had everything they needed, enough information to never see any one of them four ever again, and completely destroy their futures. Almost as if they'd gotten a taste of blood, and couldn't help but go in for seconds.
"No one's fucking expelling your lanky arse," Sofia stated.
"Come again!?" he blurted out, his forehead wrinkling while his neck bent forward.
"Why the fuck would anyone want to expel you of all people?" she continued.
He moved back slightly, his mouth gaping, finding even the right words not accurate enough for the questions running through his head.
"Halloween retaliation? Ha!" Sofia snorted, shaking her head. "Answer this, Lupin. How many testicles does Nott have?" Remus held her gaze.
"I-I don't know."
"Wild guess."
"I don't bloody know," he nearly cried. "Two, I'd assume. How is this relevant?"
"Okay, he's got two. How many of them do you think he'd give for the likes of you?"
"What the fuck are you on about?"
"Fucking answer it, Lupin."
"Er, I'd assume neither—"
"Exactly, he doesn't give two bollocks about you. Why do you think he cares whether you're expelled or not?"
Remus carved a hand through his hair, grasping at the strands as he let it go with an exaggerated breath.
"Listen, Mustaq, I don't— I don't fucking know," he gave up, not able to put one and one together when he felt like someone had cut him open and left splinters inside his organs. "I haven't slept in days—"
"—pft, obviously," she quipped, her eyes roaming over the bags under his eyes. She ran a hand through her shoulder-length, coal black hair while her glassy eyes looked to him. "They can't expel you if Pettigrew's confession was coerced. The moment that's revealed, the entire claim becomes void. And believe me when I say this, Edmund Nott knows that."
One moment his stomach was contorting, and now, only minutes after, it was hardening. His eyes narrowed on her, lids rapidly blinking.
"How, the fuck, do you know any of that?" he inquired in a rigid whisper, his words shaking from the continuing lack of sensation in his limbs. Sofia pursed her lips, looking down to her nails and twisting her wrist back and forth.
"That's sort of my speciality— I just know things," she riddled. The witch gave a little shrug, looking to the window before moving her gaze to him.
Remus' eyes dropped down to his palms, the tips of his fingers itching for his wand.
"Calm down, Hercules, no need to get all hot and bothered. We're only chatting." Sofia shifted, her hand reaching through the neck of her blouse and into the her bra. She fumbled about with her breast, Remus' face flashing bright red as he realized what she was doing.
"Fag?" she offered, smirking. Her hand stretched out towards him with one of the cigarettes. Remus shook his head, lifting his palm to decline.
"No, uh, I've— I've my own, thanks."
She shrugged, placing one to her mouth and lighting it with the tips of her fingers. A cloud of smoke came out of her nose as she took the first few puffs, tilting her head back and looking down at him.
"It's against the—"
"Do not fucking finish that sentence, Lupin."
He pressed his lips into a tight line and nodded. They remained in silence, nothing but her inhales and exhales filling it. His eyes toured the space, Sofia continuing to watch him. She blinked, tears welling up in her eyes as the smoke floated up and burned them.
"Sorry, but what do you mean you know things? What sort of things do you know, exactly?" Remus surrendered, not helping himself, the question too pronounced in his mind to leave it untouched. "I mean, what? You're, you're what? Some sort of legilimens?"
She pressed the cigarette into the metal lining around the seating, not once taking her eyes off him.
"You won't tell anyone what happened here. I'm glad you didn't cause a ruckus with your mates. Merlin knows it'd have been a Trojan War in two days time, if you had said anything." She took a deep breath, licking her tongue over her painted lips.
"Why shouldn't I say anything?"
Sofia rubbed her hands over her thighs before standing up, coming to her full height in the tall black heels she wore. Her hand etched into the door handle, sliding it open before giving him one last look.
"She's right, you do ask a lot of questions."
"Wait!" he called out. She turned with lifted brows. "What about rounds?"
"Pft!" And with that last note, she left him alone with only his thoughts.
His gaze fell to the floor. Maybe it was a sickness, or maybe Peeves had a point when he called him Loony Lupin, but something inside him tingled. No longer nervous jitters, but a climatic sort of feeling that bloomed over him like the first flowers to show after a long winter. He dropped back into the seat, a hand running through his hair, a wide, toothy grin beaming on his face. The first real smile he had managed in days.
It matured into a laugh, his cheeks hurting from the sheer size of his elation. No longer did he feel heavy, but the opposite— as if he could fly.
(8 January 1978)
But not everyone had floated from pub to pub drinking away their grief. Instead, Eva had spent the rest of her holiday scavenging the castle for hidden burrows. She wanted away, far away from everyone and anything that could remind her of what had happened. And with the students' return, it seemed not a decent space remained untouched.
Luckily, she had found solace in a deep set window edged into the Turris Magnus. Without classes in session, she knew there was no good reason for anyone to visit those parts. So, she had grabbed her books, with the knowledge that she would be left alone, and went to enjoy the last day holed up somewhere distant and safe.
Hours passed. Morning rushed into noon; time lost meaning in that part of the world, for the sky held one color and no indication whether the sun was up or down. She closed the book, placing it in her lap, casting her gaze outwards to catch the last minutes of dim light that graced the castle.
She raised her fingers, pressing the pads into the cool glass. When she released them, she smiled at the foggy imprint she had left behind. She did it again, shaking her head at her own silliness, but letting out a small laugh all the same.
"What're we laughing about?"
She jolted, the book tumbling off her lap and onto the staircase. Remus lifted his brows, bending over to retrieve it. Eva's eyes widened when she realized who it was. Her insides turned to ice, her heart stopping and then dropping into her stomach as he handed it back to her.
"You're a hard one to track down," he teased through a light chuckle. Remus took the liberty to sit down at the spare end of the stone seating, by her feet.
She brought her knees further into her chest, not only to give him more space, but also to put distance between them. "Thought you'd be in the boathouse, went down there looking for you."
He turned to her. She was staring down at the book he had just returned to her, but could see her features as clear as day. Hunched back, gaunt, lifeless face, pale as if she hadn't eaten. The scar across her cheek had faded, hair a little frizzy, composure no longer regal, but rather fragile and broken. He bit down on his lip before forcing himself to smile.
"We're a little quiet today," he needled, nudging her leg with his forearm. "All right? How was the rest of your holiday?"
Eva took a deep breath, keeping her eyes focused on the window instead of him. She hadn't been sure of how it'd be to see him again, not after the chaotic revelation Aphrodite had instilled in her. At first, she had wrote it off as over thinking or imagining something that did not exist. But it manifest, every night growing into something stronger, something that had not been there the day before. Whether it be imagining his arms around her, or the way his dimples protruded when he smiled— she was thinking about him.
Aphrodite had called it fancying somebody, but Eva could not bring herself to imagine feeling that way about him, or anyone. To focus on one person with such a magnitude seemed foreign to her. She knew about dating, what two people who fancied each other did, but she could never see them ever being those people. Holding hands, sharing a slice of cake, going to Hogsmeade together. But, and what left her puzzled, was that that acknowledgement made a pain shoot out from her heart, causing her to clutch her stomach and her lungs.
And that odd pot of emotions made her wish there was an ocean between them.
"Eva?"
Remus leaned back, giving him the chance to get a better look at her. Her finger traced the metalwork, the same few inches over and over, causing Remus' brows to furrow as he straightened his tilted head.
"Peaceful," she managed, not knowing how to speak to him anymore.
"Nothing interesting? What'd you do for New Year's? I wrote, but you never responded."
"Well, you took three days to respond," she shot back in a whisper with a slight shake to her head. Her words sounded thin, on edge, causing Remus to place his head into his hands, elbows digging into his thigh.
"Uh," he began, looking away from her while running his tongue over his teeth. "I don't understand, you knew I was at my mate's. I told you I wouldn't be able to write you everyday."
The quiet was anything but welcome, and Remus couldn't help but watch her out of the corner of his eyes. He opened his mouth every other second to say something, but not knowing how to interpret her silence, and thus remaining speechless.
"Do you want me to leave?" he asked her, his ribs beginning to tighten.
Eva blinked to where his spine would be underneath his thick jumper. She breathed slow, taking her time to think. Yes, she wanted him to go. Not because she never wanted to see or talk to him again, but because she didn't want to yet. His presence had stunned her, caught her off guard. One moment she was weaving her way through an intricate Malaysian discovery, and in seconds, someone had come and stampeded all over it.
She needed to spin all of it into a logical conclusion, something she could resolve. And that current lack of conclusion made her want to rip her hair out strand by strand, shake someone, shake herself into figuring it out. Anything to make sense of it, because felt paralyzed, as if her body was not her own, as if her mind had gone and made a decision without her permission.
"Can you say something? 'Cause it seems like I'm bothering you," he continued. She pressed her lips together, giving one firm nod without ever turning to look at him.
Remus didn't know what he had been expecting, but for some reason her answer had felt like a slap in the face. He looked out to the staircase, grimacing briefly as his chin flinched back in a delayed response.
"Brilliant, another pile of shite," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief. "All right, okay, I'll see you 'round."
She felt a thick mass gather up and well in the back of her throat, making it hard to swallow or for air to come up. Her eyes began to feel warm and foggy, squinting to distract herself from them. Did she want him to leave? Or was it all the smoke inside of her that she didn't know how to release? The same fire that had died out long time ago, greying her insides, wanting her to explode, but she, herself, keeping it from happening.
He gave her one last glance, clenching his jaw, before standing up and making his way down the stairs. He stopped, his fingers tapping quickly against his thigh before he swiveled about and stepped back up to level himself with her.
"Really!?" Remus asked, his voice and face a colorful assortment of emotions— from utter bewilderment to acute frustration. "We're back to this? All because I didn't respond the same day, even though I'd warned you 'bout it?"
"I want to be alone," she said in an undertone.
"Fine, okay, I can respect that. But why are you writing me off? Not even a hello, how are you after not seeing one another for a week?"
"It was only a week."
Remus' face pinched, his eyes having to blink because somehow he thought it'd assure he hadn't heard wrong.
"Yeah, but, I assumed. I wanted, you know, I was looking forward to seeing you, Thought maybe," he faltered, gulping, feeling his heart clench. "What about... After, after all of that? I mean, after everything that happened, I thought maybe things had changed between us."
"Changed?" she repeated, whispering it out loud to herself. Certainly, things had changed, everything was different for her. She had left the school as one person, and had come back someone else, someone not even she could recognize.
"Unless, I mean, have you changed your mind about me?"
Eva had nothing to say, or nothing she could find to say. All she had was locked lips, keeping her words inside of her. Even if she wanted to shout, she couldn't. She wished she could open up, explain everything: her confusion, the bottled up cocktail of acid and vitriol that she kept capped inside her. But it remained, it stayed where it always had, keeping her mouth shut because she did not know the right way to handle any of it.
"No," she forced in a breath. "I just want to be alone right now."
"Aren't you fucking tired of being alone?" He caught himself, closing his eyes and pressing his fingers to his temple while cursing himself internally. Remus stretched his neck back, his head looking to the top of the tower, throwing up his hands in surrender. "Okay, all right. Let me know when you want to talk, if you ever decide you want that. Didn't mean to, sorry if I bothered you, just wanted to see you is all. I'll be here, around somewhere, so I suppose that's all." He gave her a brief, rigid smile before turning to descend the steps. He shook his head, the corners of his lips forcing themselves downwards despite knowing he had no reason to be upset.
But he'd be lying if he said it didn't hurt.
He felt like a right git for jumping down her throat when she had every right to push him away. The constant back and forth was what tricked him, fooled him, every time stepping closer to only find that there was another trap in his way. And he wanted her in his life, truly yearned for her to be there. He'd been convinced on that couch, falling asleep together while watching Murder of the Orient Express, that she'd wanted the same thing. That's what made him tear at himself, that he had known, should have known better, and yet had fallen into the same trap he always fell into.
