"the last time
wasn't supposed to be
the last time."

-via Ben Maxfield

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

September, 1979

Sirius couldn't remember the last time he'd actually followed his mother's directions. Perhaps it had been eons ago, when he was too young to grasp the concept of favoritism. Perhaps it had been when she'd told him to achieve the highest marks possible. Or, perhaps, it had been that chilly night in September as she barked an order to take her precious, golden son away from Malfoy Manor. Yes, he'd listened to her then; against Regulus' feeble bodily protests, he took his brother far from the disaster that awaited them.

However, he didn't listen to his mother when she'd asked him to return to their abandoned vacation home someplace in Vienne he'd only been to once. For starters, there was no way in hell he could conjure up a good enough mental image to apparate there without splinching either himself or his brother, though the latter seemed rather appealing. No, he decided the final act of spite towards that bitter vessel of a woman would be to throw this child, this weak minded and traitorous child he once considered a brother, in harm's way one final time. Perhaps Voldemort would make an appearance and Sirius would, in turn, make a trade. It would only be fucking fair.

Instead, he threw himself at the threshold of his own flat, gawking at the door, ajar and battered. Regulus fell to his knees, weeping into the welcome mat like a child. His robes were tattered and bloody; Sirius assumed this was the blood of his mother or father, possibly both. It even could've been his own wounds seeping into the silk fabric of his dress shirt beneath the robes. His chest rose and fell raggedly, the warm air of the flat hallway filling his lungs to no avail. Regulus was a bloody, blubbering mess, and Sirius couldn't find an ounce of pity within him to give a damn.

They were his family. But they were traitors. Traitors to his cause, to his blood. The sight of his broken brother, fractured by the loss of their mother, only aggravated his frayed nerves. How could he cry for her?! How could he mourn such a bitch? She didn't deserve tears, and he didn't deserve peace to grieve.

Sirius shoved him lower to the ground, eyes wide and glassy with fury, "Get up!"

His voice boomed over the hustle of Manchester traffic; Regulus went about his sobbing, the heavy breathing borderline hyperventilation. His knuckles grasped at the cuffs of his robes, face red and splotchy with tears and loss. Sirius was disgusted, and he wouldn't mind to show it. He jerked his brother by the collar, dragging him to his feet and shoving him hard against the wall with as much brute force as he could manage.

"Stop," he screamed. "Stop fucking crying!"

But Regulus continued, crying for his mother and father. Sirius couldn't quite wrap his head around the thought of mourning such terrible people – abusers! Nevertheless, he remembered the difference in treatment. They fucking favored him, and why?

"Is it because they loved you more than me," he shouted. "Were you smarter? More handsome? What do you have that I didn't?"

Sirius slammed Regulus body against the wall again, the shutter of the dry wall creaking beneath the weight. The slow trickle of blood dampened Regulus' collar, spilling into the cracks of Sirius' fists, but he didn't stop. Over and over again, he threw his brother into the wall, his fist striking the perfection of Regulus' pale skin time and time again. Rage roared its ugly head in his chest, awoken after nearly four years of slumber. It had been ages since he'd felt so helpless, so fucking angry. It was only unfortunate that Regulus was nearby, his sobbing acting as fuel to the fire. He had no damn reason to cry. If anyone should be crying, it should be Sirius! But he never got the chance. No. He never got to mourn the loss of his mother because she was neve there to begin with.

"I never had what you had," Sirius growled, teeth bared dangerously. "I never had the attention, the love – any of it! And what did you do? You took it for granted, you fucking traitor." Regulus sputtered, droplets of blood dripping down his chin. His eyes were glazed, rolling in his skull wildly. "How could you? After what we did for you! What about me? James? Remus? We took you in, you bloody bastard!"

Regulus went limp in Sirius' grasp, body sliding down as his weight increased. Sirius stumbled, catching his brother with a free hand.

"No," Regulus mumbled. "Didn't tell them... anything. Swear."

Sirius laid his brother down on the floor, looking down with betrayal swelling as tears in the dips of his eyelids.

"How can I trust you," he asked, a hint of hurt breaking through the slits of his resolve. He flinched as blood trickled from Regulus' nose. "How could I ever trust you again?"

"T-They," Regulus stumbled over his words, "He wanted to know... Order. I didn't tell. Couldn't."

"Prove it," Sirius demanded, jabbing an accusatory finger in Regulus' battered face. "How do I know you're telling me the truth?"

"Truth Serum," Regulus suggested. "I'll take it. Please. I... I'll do a-anything."

Sirius watched as his brother's eyes stilled, glazed and milky. Blood vessels were beginning to break in the whites of his eyes, the stream of blood from his nose seeping into the cracks of his lips. Guilt was trying its hardest to navigate its way to Sirius' heart, whispering words of regrets to the part of his mind that still adored his little brother, however suspicious the night had been.

Could he trust his brother? Could he believe anything he said that night? It was an ambush at Malfoy Manor – Sirius just knew it was. Someone knew they'd be called and knew exactly how to target them. There was an insider, and as of that moment, the only person he could point his finger at was his brother. His ties to the dark side were stronger than anyone else's. It was the only possible answer. Sirius considered the Veritaserum; it was in his potion's cabinet, nearby.

Sirius strode towards his door, wand in hand, when a hand pulled at the cuff of his jeans. He looked down, eyes landing on Regulus as he clung to consciousness.

"Don't," he murmured. "S'trap. Don't go in. He's wa... waitin..."

Regulus' body went limp, eyes open and mouth drooping. Blood oozed from his mouth with saliva, an awful mixture. Sirius' heart clenched, the breath in his lungs squeezed by the fist of regret and fright. He scooped Regulus into his arms without thinking, eyes glancing at the doorway to his flat. If Regulus had been telling the truth, and however angry Sirius might have been, something told him that he was, then his death stood on the other side of five inches of oak. Who had been waiting? Voldemort?

Whatever the case had been, Regulus needed medical attention. Immediately. Sirius should have never hurt him the way he did; it was unfair. The turmoil had subsided, leaving only dark guilt in the pit of his stomach.

Perhaps Moody had been right: Sirius really was just like his mother.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, September 1979

Remus paced the floor worriedly, the skin lining the inside of his cheeks now torn and chewed. Lily and James tended to each other, anxious for the arrival of Peter and Sirius – the latter seemingly nowhere to be found. Remus' body ached, bones tired and sore from his skirmish with Bellatrix minutes ago; he would not see a healer. His mind wouldn't let him rest until he caught sight of his lover. It was silly, really, how his brain refused to placate itself. Fears and conclusions danced in the forefront of his mind – all about the wellbeing of his father and friends.

Sirius hadn't showed up to St. Mungo's. It had been half an hour since their escape from Malfoy Manor with not a second left to lose. They were lucky to have made it out alive; the sounds of Death Eaters entering the manor seconds after Regulus and Sirius had apparated sent chills down Remus' spine; they reminded him how they were not ready, despite years of training.

He worried that they would never be ready, no matter how many mornings and nights they spent with the Order. It seemed that wherever they went, the threat of imminent death and Voldemort followed, and every time they were faced with confrontation from the opposition, they were unprepared. Lily and James had dealt with Death Eaters before – only a month prior to this incident. They'd escaped with the skin on their backs. Remus was frightened; could Voldemort be defeated?

They were outnumbered by far, and the skills possessed by older Death Eaters exceeded their own despite graduation quite high in their class of thirty-one. None of that seemed to matter anymore – the schoolwork, the training, the lessons, and the grades. It appeared to all but vanish in the face of danger. How long would it be until their luck ran out? Years? Would this war last for years? Perhaps months or maybe even days! Who would lose their life to this unmanageable war?

"Remus, please," Lily implored. "See a healer. We'll let Sirius come and visit as soon as he gets here, but you're hurt."

Remus didn't answer, his feet tracking bloody prints across the tiled floor. Lily didn't understand. She couldn't possibly understand the apprehensions and doubts flooding the last cup of sanity he'd managed to save. She went everywhere with James, and they always returned with one another. Remus and Sirius found themselves separated at every turn, and such a burden tears down your every stronghold. He wanted to rip his fucking hair out! Such pain was nearly unbearable; how could he know Sirius was safe? How could he protect him if he didn't even know his whereabouts?

He was helpless. There was no way he could find Sirius in Vienne; he'd never been out of England before, never seen the vacation home, on the off chance Sirius had actually gone there. Even if he had gone to their flat, against his mother's wishes, Remus doubted he stayed very long. London was a grand city with millions of people; he didn't even want to do the math that he'd not only find Sirius, but also find him alive.

Such statistics drove him mad. No, Lily would never understand. James was sensible and clever; he knew how to manage situations with a calm, level head – knew how to fight with tactic and knew when to accept defeat. Sirius, on the other hand, was driven by pride and, at times, spite. It wouldn't be surprising if he'd returned to Malfoy Manor to have it out with that hysterical woman he considered a cousin.

It was only hope that he surrender to in that moment. Hope that Sirius did the right thing for once and did what was best for himself – not what was best for his fucking pride.

James rose from his plastic chair, setting his coffee on the little table with random magazines and said, "Moony. He's alright."

"How do you know that," Remus snapped angrily. James fell silent, eyes averted to the floor. "That's right. You fucking don't."

He moved away from his friend, storming down the hallway to a different waiting room in hopes he'd find some solace in his self-isolation. He couldn't think with those to nagging away at him. Although he knew that they were trying to suggest what's best for him, he didn't give a damn about himself in that moment. The only thought he could manage to focus on was Sirius and whether or not he was alive.

The only indication had been that feeling in his chest – the one that manifested all those years ago during their school days for Sirius – and it's consistent hum. Remus relied on that for comfort and resignation.

"Please be alright," he murmured, eyes closed in prayer.

Damn it, he didn't even really pray all that often. Not for what mattered. He only turned to God in his time of need; a selfish reason to turn to God. He wondered if all of this had to do with the fact he never worshipped the right way. Was he a bad man? This had to be some sort of punishment – this separation anxiety. No mortal human could endure this over and over again unless it was some sort of test; God was testing him. Remus knew he was failing.

"Oh my God," he heard Lily holler from the other side of the hallway.

That buzz in his chest heightened, clenching around his heart painfully.

Sirius.

He darted from the window at full speed, his feet carrying him without much of a thought process. He was there; he really came. James had been right all along, as per usual. Padfoot was alright. Remus felt the smallest of smiles tug at the corners of his mouth. Maybe he had passed the test.

He approached Sirius from behind, out of breath. He really needed to work on that. In his arms was Regulus, bloody and yellow faced. Remus stiffened.

"What happened," James hurried over. "Who did this to him?"

Remus circled his lover, looking at the limp, crumpled figure of his younger brother in apprehension. He was covered in blood, robes and hair damp with crimson liquid, and his nose appeared to be broken. His silk shirt – torn at the shoulder – was fisted in Sirius' hand. Sirius hadn't spoken a word since his arrival, his chest rising and falling at alarming rates; Remus had seen him like this before. He was panicking.

"James, get a nurse," Remus ordered.

James nodded frantically, disappearing down a hallway. Lily's eyes were glued on Regulus' broken body, frantic, shallow breathing echoing through the waiting room like the winds of a tornado. Remus was overwhelmed, unsure of whether or not to pay attention to Lily's oncoming panic attack or Sirius' mental overload.

Remus took Lily by the shoulders, "I need you to breathe, Lily."

She nodded but it would've appeared the words went in through one ear and right out the other. In fact, her breathing only worsened. She snubbed the idea of looking away from Regulus, away from such a traumatic image. It was only worsening the effects of her meltdown. Lily vigorously shook her head, hair spilling over her blanched, tear stained face.

"I can't," she cried. "I can't handle this, Remus!"

"I understand, Lily, but you must calm down," he begged. "Breathe in and out. I need you to just take a breath."

James returned, familiar faces following after him. Fleamont, McGonagall, and Dumbledore stormed the waiting room, stoic and passive as per usual. Remus would never understand how they kept their cool in circumstances as such. Three of them were about to lose their fucking shit, and here they came, cool and collected as though these things occurred regularly. Perhaps they did during wars.

A nurse and healer took Regulus from Sirius, with a bit of a struggle, and carried him behind the swaying doors of the Emergency ward. Sirius' eyes, glassy, watched with reluctance, unmoved by James' pacing and cursing.

"I won't lose someone else," he swore, looking to the adults for some sort of reassurance. "We've lost enough, damn it. How many more?"

Dumbledore approached James, a soothing hand rubbing his shoulder, "Once we have a war there is only one thing to do. It must be won. For defeat brings worse things than any that can ever happen in war."

Fleamont smiled, "I love Hemingway."

James, who'd once been caught in the heat of his emotions, halted in his tracks, hurt and furious eyes landing on his father with disdain.

"How could you be so calm," he asked. "Two people – who had nothing to do with yourwar – have died in the span of, what, five fucking months?"

Fleamont faced his son, that typical stoic expression darkening into something Remus had seen too often in his youth, "This war belongs to all of us, James. It isn't my war."

James became hysterical, "No! It isn't my war. If I had my way, I'd be marrying the love of my life in peace, with my best friends –"

"Life doesn't give a damn about your peace, James," Fleamont countered, baritone voice taut and clipped. "It doesn't given a damn about your wedding and your friends. It doesn't give a damn about your life either."

"How could you say that," Lily cried.

Fleamont's face softened but remained harsh, "It's a hard truth all of you need to get through your thick skulls; you aren't children anymore!"

James approached his father, face red and eyes critical, "First Julienne and now Regulus? How many more, Dad? How many before 'life' is satisfied?!"

Remus, confused, let his eyes befall on his friends. What did his friend have to do with any of this? Julienne had moved back to West Country with her family after their graduation without a word; had she been in contact with the Potter's? His eyes darted amongst the bodies inhabiting the waiting room, hoping for some sort of explanation.

"That's enough, Mr. Potter," Minnie urged, taking James by the shoulders, but he shrugged her away.

"I do suppose everyone could go with a nice cup of coffee," Dumbledore suggested. "I find that the coffee bean –"

"Would you just shut the fuck up," James screamed, veins protruding from his neck. The adults' faces blanched, Minnie taken back by such language used toward their old Headmaster. "Coffee isn't going to fix a god damn thing!"

"Wait," Remus interrupted, voice soft under the shouting of others, "what about Julienne?"

Lily pulled Remus away, eyes diligent yet oh so secretive, "Not now, Rem."

"No," he said. "What is he talking about? What's wrong with Julienne?"

However, James wasn't paying attention to a thing Remus said. His full attention had been placed upon the adults on the other side of the room and their desperately worried faces. Minnie, looking torn down the middle, appealed to James first.

"Mr. Potter," she began, "I understand your –"

"No, you don't Minnie," he snapped. "You couldn't possibly understand how it feels watching your friends lose their life to a war we didn't ask to be a part of."

Fleamont lost his composure, "But you did! You did, James. In April, you begged to be a part of this cause. You don't get to back out when it gets difficult."

James flinched at his father's words. Remus was sure this had been the first true fracture in their relationship. The two were practically glued to each other; they were one in the same. Watching them argue – taking all of their frustrations on each other – made something in him squirm. Whatever had happened unbeknownst to him, it must've been tragic.

"Don't you get it, Dad," James said. "Julienne d-"

"James, don't," Fleamont warned. "Don't go there."

Remus bristled at the implications in his voice. He stepped up, "Finish your sentence, James."

Remus was no stranger to a secretive lifestyle. The symptoms were written over everyone's expressions. The averted eyes, downcast expressions, and fiddling with stray objects. Dumbledore seemed to be the only one with enough courage to watch as Remus put together the puzzle pieces on his own – a mechanism he often left up to his students.

"Remus," Fleamont sighed. "James is only upset."

"Your damn right, I'm upset," James hissed. "You made me lie to my best mate, and for what? What good has it done?"

Remus decided to leave the arguing to James and his father, appealing to Lily this time. The poor girl was on the verge of tears, her flushed cheeks splotchy and wet. This was straining her, he knew, but the truth was on the brink of exposure. Remus needed to know. He held her face in his calloused hands.

"Lily," he soothed her frazzled nerves.

She shook her head slowly, those tears that had swelled running over the pads of his fingers, "Please, don't make me, Remus."

"Tell me."

"I can't, Remus!"

"You don't get to decide what I know and don't know," he reasoned. "It isn't fair."

Dumbledore stepped in, calm and placid voice rising over the shouting between father and son, "As recent tragedies would prove, Mr. Lupin, life is far away from fair. Some things are better left unsaid."

Remus felt silent aggravation bubble in his throat, his nerves on their last leg.

"What the fuck happened!"

"Julienne is dead."

The room fell silent, even the voices of Fleamont and James were hushed in a mere second. From a distance, Sirius had been doing his calming exercises unbeknownst to the rest of their small posse in the waiting room, gathering the courage to spill the truth. Sirius' voice was weak and tired, reminding Remus so much of his own self through the years.

But that hadn't mattered.

Remus was no stranger to loss; it had rummaged throughout his own lifetime like a dark creature that fed off despair. Friends, family, opportunities, and a future – they were all lost in the blink of an eye. The consequences were still rippling through time. It wasn't an odd feeling anymore; in fact, he'd gotten so used to it that he could control the pain. Hearing of Julienne's death had hit him like a brick to the face – suddenly and punitive. However, that hadn't been the straw that broke the camel's back.

They lied. All of them. Lily and James. Fleamont and Dumbledore. Minnie? Sirius.

He stared at them all, too dumbstruck to form coherent words. The words seemed to jumble in the back of his throat, obstructing his airflow and choking him to death. Now, this was an odd feeling one could never find themselves accustomed to. Betrayal. They'd never betrayed him before. None of them. Not Peter or James, not Lily or Sirius. He'd trusted all of them – Fleamont and Dumbledore included.

"Albus," Minnie gasped, looking just as stunned as Remus. "Is this true?"

As if the man could feel remorse, he nodded solemnly, "It is, yes."

Remus let his eyes fall on his friends. Lily had resolved to crying into James' chest, the weight of this revelation too much for her to handle. But she'd known. For months, Lily had known! She'd received time to grieve, and Remus had not. Remus should've been crying, not her! Still, he couldn't find it in him to weep. The heat in his chest – this carnal rage he'd only felt before transformations – distracted him from his mourning.

Remus found his attention landing on Sirius, hoping to hear that it was all a ruse. It couldn't have been; they didn't lie to each other. Remus had thought their progress stretched for miles. To know that his lover had lowered himself to such depths as to lie – it broke his heart. Truly. It was shattering in a way he hadn't thought he'd ever feel again. Air turned into blades, scraping against his vocal chords.

"Sirius?" His voice cracked, and Sirius winced at the sound. "You… Why would you keep that from me?"

Sirius remained silent, eyes cast to the floor in a display of shame. It did not move Remus. Not one bit.

"Answer me," he demanded, voice rising several levels. Sirius backed away from his lover, but Remus denied him the chance to tuck his fucking tail and wallow in his own self-pity. "Fucking answer me!"

"I don't know," he mumbled, voice soft.

Remus gasped unironically, looking struck with awe as if that'd been the golden answer, "He doesn't know!"

James' eyes cautiously darted between Sirius and Remus, taking apprehensive steps toward them just in case things got physical.

"You didn't fucking know," Remus repeated. "What a wonderful reason! Well, weren't you ready with your face down and your arse up to go behind my damn back?"

"I didn't know," Sirius began, his words failing him as they always did when it was the most important.

"Didn't know? Didn't know what," Remus asked, stalking toward Sirius with a dangerous glint in his eye. "Didn't know right from wrong? What a fucking surprise!"

"Moony," James sighed. "Will you just calm down?"

Remus shoved James roughly, sending him spiraling backwards onto his bottom, "Don't you dare come near me, bastard!" He glared daggers into the people he'd once thought were friends. "You go on and on about chivalry and fairness, yet you turn around and lie to me! How could you?"

"We thought it was for the best," Lily said, clearly thinking such an explanation was enough.

"No," Remus focused his attention on Fleamont. "You wanted me steady enough to do your fucking dirty work, didn't you?" The adults said nothing. "You wanted me stable enough to do work with the Werewolf dens. That's the catch! If you don't have me gaining allies, then you're all fucked, huh? Well, you know what, do it on your fucking own! I'm through."

McGonagall seemed to be the only one with a beating heart as she stepped forward, eyes pleading with Remus to reconsider. But he didn't want to. He didn't want to see any of their fucking faces! He wanted to leave for good, never looking back at these traitors.

In his final moment in that bright waiting room, he cornered Sirius with dark eyes and tight lips, "It's done."

The only thing he registered as he apparated to Walter's Ash was a resounding cry.

"No, Remus!"

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

Sorry guys :/ It must be done. Much love to all of you.