Falling Leaves

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

February 1995 - Grimmauld's Place

The crash of light disappeared as suddenly as it had burst into existence. If not for the way it seared his closed eyelids, he would have chalked the whole thing up to a bout of wishful thinking or to a fit of delusion. When he opened his eyes, though, the utter… normalcy of the Library at Number Twelve struck him as an oddness. Despite the seeming blast, no books or shelves were out of place, none of the long chaises and dark sofas were upturned, nor were the sumptuous tapestries singed in any way. He breathed in as he took a step back. Everything lay exactly as it should.

It took Remus a moment to realize that he was the thing that had changed.

It had worked. Or, at least, this part had gone according to plan. The results wouldn't be clear, not now and not for a while to come, but this… This marked both the ending and the beginning - nearly two decades of self-imposed patience giving way to resuming life at last. Remus felt… free. Like waking up from a foggy sleep one day and feeling you had your entire future ahead of you. That fate was molten metal ready to take form instead of a set of unbreakable constraints. Yet, in a way, a part of him also felt lost. A few months more to go, a few steps more to take... and what, then?

That uncertainty was overwhelming to a certain extent didn't come as a surprise. There were too many variables involved, and he could neither afford any relief nor succumb to any despair. Hope filled him and fear plagued him in equal measure, a perfect symmetry that led him nowhere in particular. Above all, one question remained, seizing his heart in a Devil's Snare grip, any struggle against it only getting it to tighten its grasp.

If everything worked out for the best, how would Hermione react?

"So… that was it?" Sirius' question rescued him out of the endless maze of his own mind. Remus snapped his gaze forward, taking in the expression on his best friend's face. If times were different, if their load was smaller and their shoulders lighter, it would've likely triggered a laugh. Ever since they had met, Sirius had always been the hardest one to baffle. He took derailed plans and unforeseen consequences in stride as if they had been part of the plan all along. Surprising him proved to be a rather comical feat. "This thing of yours… it worked?"

"I have no way to know yet, but all signs seem to indicate so. Thank you, I appreciate your help."

"It was your pleasure."

At that, Remus did chuckle. He shook his head and reached for the ritual's book lying on the armrest of the nearest sofa. He had read it a hundred times already, but it was best to be prepared. When it came to meddling with time and other, even more fickle things, one could never be too careful. He had read three paragraphs and started a fourth before the questions came.

"Is it me?" Sirius asked.

A full minute. Remarkable, really.

"Are you… what, Sirius?"

"That you're in love with?"

Remus' only response was a quirk of an eyebrow. Trust Sirius to fire away brazen theories shaped as questions when he was told he couldn't have the answers. Or, Remus should say, especially when he was told he couldn't have them.

"What? I know you're not blind Remus. I'm handsome. You know it, I obviously do, and the whole Wizarding World would as well, if not for that tasteless photograph the Ministry chose to divulge everywhere. My hair looked too dull and ratty in that."

Remus put his hands in his pockets. "As opposed to your other features, which yelled bright and cheery."

"But it wouldn't be your fault, you know," Sirius said, Remus' sarcasm falling on deaf ears. "My charming personality is, at the best of times, hard to resist. You made a commendable effort these last twenty-five years." His monologue stopped long enough for him to look at Remus, and Padfoot rolled his eyes. "Fine, not me then, judging by that look. I wouldn't have minded at all, it would certainly give Mother a final turn in her grave. But whatever you say. Or, I guess, don't say, in this case.

"However," Closing his eyes for a moment, Remus pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stave off a looming headache. He had thought that would've been the end of it, at least for the moment, seeing as the ritual had taken its toll on their magic and bodies, but he should've known better than to expect it. In no world did 'Sirius Orion Black' and 'restraint' ever go together. "And don't take this the wrong way, Moony, I wouldn't ask if I wasn't concerned, but would you happen to… you know, does she - or he, whatever suits you best - do they maybe go somehow like…" Sirius folded his coat and shirt sleeves over his forearms, reached both arms forward bending them at the elbows, and curled his hands into the poorest impression of claws Remus had ever witnessed, and he had lived years as a werewolf with young, smart-arsed friends to see many. As if the ensemble didn't look ridiculous enough on the supposedly noble heir of the Most Ancient House of Black, Sirius puckered his mouth and sucked a lungful of air noisily through it.

Given the circumstances, Remus had been prepared to ignore his first conclusion - Sirius had always had a penchant for narcissism that he could never quite relate to, yet had always found more entertaining than annoying - but the second one gave him pause. Were those truly the only options available for him? Sirius as the self-proclaimed epitome of handsomeness, or the ugliest, darkest creature in existence?

"No, Padfoot, she's not a dementor."

"Huh. Then I have run out of ideas about what the bloody hell you're doing. I thought, with the angst and the hush and the, you know, thingie—but if not, then I'm sorry to have to tell you this because I know you didn't date when we were younger and we clearly didn't mentor you properly, but here's a tip: all this? Not the way to go about it, mate. Lily… Lily would've known the right thing to tell you, you know. Not James, though, that poor sod was probably as bad at it as you." Sirius' playfulness faded and his gaze roamed, looking anywhere and everywhere but at Remus. With a bob of his Adam's apple, he made a few fitful, cut short movements as if he'd grown too bony for his own skin, none of his previous confidence present. When he spoke, his voice held a strained quality to it that made it sound croaky and unused, "I'm in the mood for some Firewhisky. Care to join?"

Remus stared at his friend for a moment, then lowered his gaze. The headache had arrived, accompanied by a sudden tightness in his chest that he knew had nothing to do with the ritual. "I'll fetch it."

December 1975

All throughout November and the first twenty days of December, Remus missed Hermione with a ferocity he didn't know he possessed, not outside a full moon, at least. Happiness seeped away from him as if he'd been standing atop a frozen lake and, without notice, the ice beneath his feet had cracked and given in, submerging him in freezing cold water. Remnants of warmth still remained here and there, ebbing gradually away from him as he treaded and fought against the water.

Even though Remus understood, on a logical level, that Hermione wouldn't show, his hopeful heart still raced at every turn and corner, like it would find her there, in a righteous fury, ready to point out how awful an idea putting together a forbidden club had been and how foolish of her to give it any credence, yet having managed to find another way to travel to his time despite having been expelled. Perhaps even a permanent one. During that time, Remus would've taken her outrage and her indignation any day over the nothingness of silence that threatened to overcome him. But every time she failed to show, a little bit of him got lost to disappointment and coldness. The coin she had given him failed to convey his messages, just as she had predicted, but he clung to it nonetheless.

After December 21st, though, the numbness had settled, the final layer of ice congealed above him, trapping him underneath, and dragging his unresistant self to the bottom.

It was, after all, for the better that she hadn't returned.

Although in the end, it was not due to ice that his opinion had swayed. The cold would have provided a sort of morbid soothing, but all he felt was the unbearable heat as he woke up to his face on fire. At first, he wasn't sure he had awakened at all, his sight being met by complete darkness, so much so that he couldn't determine whether his eyes were even open to begin with. The pain of his transformation should've ended by now, right? Or had it only started? He blinked to try to reorient himself, feeling and groping at what lay below him with both hands, his fingers stiff and tendons stretched. A mattress. And he spotted, when his gaze became used to the darkness, a wall nearby. No, not a wall: curtain sheets.

With a lot of effort, Remus pushed himself to a sitting position. That's when he noticed the source of the burning: something was stuck to his face, partially obscuring his view. He reached for it, intent on ripping whatever it was out, but it refused to come off. Remus slid his fingers over it, feeling the fabric stretch over his left eye and across his nose, cheek, and jaw, his skin flaming below it. The strip of cloth circled around the back of his head and all the way to where it started, a bit of it sticking out, and Remus caught the material between his fingers. It was neither soft nor rough, but the threads were spaced. His lips peeled from one another as he parted them, his mouth feeling as sandy as his throat was parched.

Bandages.

His heart picked up, and he swung his head around, trying to make out his surroundings. From his one uncovered eye, he made out three large lumps that lay unmoving near what he now knew was a cot and something - a cabinet - next to the cot. He dragged his legs over the edge, pushing away at what he assumed was a sheet when it tangled around his feet, his muscles moaning in protestation.

The lumps, he could now discern, were occupied chairs.

"Prongs? Padfoot? Peter? Hey, wake up!" Remus called out in rasp, urgent tones, "Who's there? Wormtail! Wake up!"

There was a mumble from the one on the left, a muttered 'Mmm sorry, Lily', but nothing else.

Remus pulled himself out of the bed, but his legs failed him and he collapsed atop the closest occupant.

"Merlin's saggy… Remus?"

"James. James, what happened? What happened to me?"

A whispered word later and white light blinded him. He covered his eye with one hand, the spot of light disorienting after pitch-black darkness.

"Oh, Remus… Here." He felt James as he heaved him back onto the cot. "I… No, don't touch it, Madam Pomfrey said you'll make it worse if you do. I'll call her, give me a minute."

Alone in the dark with his sadistic imagination, the minutes it took the Mediwitch to arrive felt like dragging hours, and Remus' short nails had dug half-moons on his thighs deep enough that he had nearly drawn blood by the time she arrived.

The torches lit on all at once, and Madam Pomfrey took the room by storm, bustling here and there, grabbing potions from the cabinet nearby. "Drink this, Remus, dear. It'll help with the pain."

The commotion woke the others who, after a few drowsy blinks, joined James near the half-pulled privacy curtains as Remus was submitted to diagnosing spells. Their expressions and muteness didn't bode well.

"What happened?" Remus repeated. In addition to the burning, cold sweat covered his hands and trickled down the back of his neck.

"There was an incident, dear." Madam Pomfrey said.

The feeling of having swallowed a bowl of live slugs, now revolting in his stomach, took over. "What-what kind of incident?"

"I think it's best if your friends explain. And apologize." Obstructed as his sight was, he nearly missed it as the matron shot the three Marauders a look, and they hunched even further under her gaze. "I'll be back in a moment with a Dreamless Potion."

It was Padfoot who took a step forward.

"I… I'm sorry." It was the first time Remus heard these words come out of Sirius' mouth. "It was all my fault, Moony. Snivellus kept nosing around, so I told him…. but I didn't think he would actually-I didn't imagine he would go, I swear. And then you... It was my fault. I… Madam Pomfrey says there's nothing she can do, they will heal, in time, as werewolf-inflicted wounds do, but…" His voice lowered until it reached a whisper, "But they won't go away."

Understanding hit him like a wall of bricks. No. No, this could not be happening. Not to him. Yet the pain told a different tale. He led his hand to the bandages once more: the monster had branded him. Like… like cattle. It wasn't enough that Remus had to relinquish control over his body and mind once a month, that... thing had to make him carry its ugliness every second of every day for the rest of his life. A mark of his heinousness.

"—Please forgive me." It was the end of a speech he hadn't cared enough to hear. Apologies. His father had apologized, too, hadn't he? Holding a four-year-old him - much too young to comprehend what had happened to him - in his arms, tears sliding down his face while he sobbed his regret. Apologies changed so very little. They weren't the ones who had to bear the consequences for their actions, were they? He was.

Unlike Sirius, James and Peter had remained silent since Madam Pomfrey's departure, but Remus looked at each and every one of them before he spoke, "I want to be alone."

"Remus, I…"

That close after a full moon, a little bit of the wolf lingered. It felt Remus' anger and fed off of it, showing when he banged his hand on the cabinet, "LEAVE!"

The three of them flinched.

"Come on, Sirius. Give him some time…" James said, wrapping an arm around Sirius' shoulders and guiding him out.

Peter moved to follow but stopped before crossing the curtain. His eyes flitted back and forth between James and Sirius' backs and Remus, lying prostrate on the cot. "Will you-will you be okay?"

Would he be okay? An ugly, deranged laugh escaped Remus' lips. WOULD HE BE OKAY?

"I'm alive, aren't I? I'll survive just fine."

Peter scurried off after the other two, and Remus could still hear their voices in the distance.

"Fucking, fuckity fuck! How stupid am I, Prongs? I did this. Me, my arrogance. Perhaps I'm no better than any other Black."

At that moment, Remus thought him the worst of them.

When Lily showed the next afternoon, Remus' mood was less mercurial, having simmered from rage to… something else, on the opposite side of the spectrum. Lily was perhaps the only other person at Hogwarts whose friend's betrayal had caused scarring. Hers had not been physical, but it was there, plain to see all the same, whenever people looked at her with pity. Remus had been there when Snape called her a… he couldn't even bear to think the word, much less say it. Almost the entirety of Hogwarts had borne witness to it.

Once the bandages were removed and he was allowed a mirror - a non-talking one, and under Madam Pomfrey's supervision - Remus lifted it and watched as the scabbed over, disfiguring gashes on his face screamed at him on the reflexive surface, a permanent reminder of what he truly was, as if he could have, even for a second, forgotten.

He had no concept of how much time had passed and hadn't noticed her arrival until the mirror was gently removed from his hand, and placed on top of the cabinet beside his cot. Lily stood beside him and grabbed his hand.

"Oh, Remus. If Professor Dumbledore hadn't already, I would assign you detention myself! How could you go with them to the Forbidden Forest, of all places, and at night, too? Of all the stupid ideas... I know they're your friends, but it's harebrained ideas like that that could get you killed."

Remus nodded slowly, looking forward without seeing anything beyond the hollowness in his chest and the bone-deep tiredness that threatened to overtake him. He heard her voice but not her words, sounding as though white-noise in the background of his own thoughts.

She must have said much more, but he only found his presence of mind when she let go of his hand and moved as though to leave.

"Lily," He called, and she turned back to face him. "Could I ask you to be honest? How—" Remus swallowed. "How bad does it look?"

"She won't mind." Lily's eyes softened, "And if she does, she doesn't deserve you."

Hermione.

He hadn't thought about Hermione.

Things hadn't been the same during the last days before the Christmas holidays. He hadn't meant to torture Sirius for what he had done, nor any of the others. But perhaps he had - a sordid part of him felt avenged by it, by the crestfallen looks and their shared misery. Resentment and anger had piled over time and Remus had no outlet, no healthy coping mechanism to work with, and it grew in a vicious cycle. Life felt like it was taking a piss, it gave very little and took away so much more. Every little thing he had left.

The secret, he now believed, was to not care. To expect nothing good and be prepared for the worst possible.

For the first time in five years, Remus stepped out of the Hogwarts Express alone. His parents awaited him at the station. When he drew closer to them, his mother wrapped her arms around him.

"Oh, darling…"

He must look a sight. Butterfly closures held the edges of his skin together, the angry red gashes crossing his face eyebrow to cheek to chin. No longer was the jagged, always at least a little inflamed bite scar on his thigh the only cursed wound he sported.

"I'm fine, mum. Dad."

His father patted him on his back, a grave expression on his face. "Dumbledore wrote to us. Said it was an accident."

"Yeah, an accident."

His mother traced the side of his face with her thumb, the touch gentle enough he almost didn't feel it. "Your father will go for some pain potions once we're home, ours are bound to be a little stale. And then I'll bake you a chocolate cake."

"You don't have to, mum," Remus said, his arms still around her. "I told you, I'm fine."

"Then it'll be an everything's fine chocolate cake."

He managed the tiniest of smiles. "Okay."

"Good, if you insisted on me not making it, I would have to think things were very wrong indeed. I've never seen you refuse chocolate before."

"Yeah." He lowered his arms and turned to his father. "Can we just... go?"

"Sure, son. Grab hold."

Remus and Hope held Lyall's arm and, with a pop, they arrived at the cottage. It was quaint, yet cozy, the furniture well-loved enough that it had lost its freshness, but not its comfort. Ever since Remus had started to attend Hogwarts, the need to move around had vanished. A son who was only sick a few days during the holidays drew much less attention than one who had a different illness every month, and his parents had settled in a cottage on the outskirts of a forest, removed enough not to have neighbors anywhere in sight.

"And Amra?" His father asked.

"I asked her to stay at Hogwarts."

"A vacation?" His father winced. "I'm sure she'll hate it."

"It's only for a few days."

Truth was, after he had been cleared to leave the Infirmary the day before, Amra had taken one look at his face and her ashen-pink face turned purple. He had never before seen an angry house-elf up until that moment, and between preventing her from hurting herself for not being there - to which he had repeated, over and over, that her being there for him was impossible and would only rattle the wolf further - Remus let slip a short recount of what had taken place. And he had found himself in the uncomfortable position of not defending, but explaining Sirius' behavior to her, lest that glint in her eye turned murderous. Betrayed as he felt by Sirius, he didn't wish for his death, nor did he wish for his parents to learn what had happened, so he asked Amra to stay at Hogwarts for the short holiday.

Once his father was sent on some errands and the cake was baking in the oven, Remus' mother stood by the chair he was sitting on, placed both hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eye.

She said nothing, yet the tears came unbidden and uncontrolled.

"Let it out, my sweet, sweet boy. You're safe, now."

"Why? Why me, mum? I was a monster already, I just… I didn't need a fucking reminder. I can't even bear to look at myself."

"You listen very carefully to me, Remus John Lupin. You're not a monster - you're my son. You are kind and sweet and smart as they come." She removed a handkerchief from her coat's pocket and held it out for him. "Now, come… Blow your nose."

"I'm not five."

"I'll be the judge of that. Although you'd be the tallest five-year-old I've ever met."

Remus swiped the tears with the back of his hands.

"Have it your way, then."

They moved to the grey sofa and sat in silence while she ran her fingers through his hair, the gesture calming. He had almost fallen asleep when she spoke again, "Would you like to help me with the garden while we wait? I've got new seeds and bulbs to plant and your father charmed the garden to protect it from the cold."

The mention of a garden brought back the memories that came attached to Hermione. "I… I met someone."

"You did, did you?"

"By accident. I shouldn't have gotten involved with her. I'm… And she's…"

"I doubt any girl will ever love you more than me, Remus. But if you tell me you really like her, I'll make an effort to share you."

"Yes, I mean, no. I don't think I'll see her again. Not for a long time."

"But you would like to? Darling, when someone is important enough to you, really, truly so, nothing is insurmountable. Your father and I came from different worlds, I used to believe magic only existed in fairytales, and your father… well, your father stupefied my toaster the first time he saw it. He had, after all, saved me from a Bogart, what was an evil muggle contraption that clinked and shot bread in the face of that?" She laughed and tapped his nose with one finger. "A lot of it was new and exhilarating, but as much fun as we had, not everything was a bed of roses. It took effort, from both sides, but things worked out in the end. My point is, some people are worth waiting for. Is she?"

"Yes. Yes, she is."

"There you go, then. You wait until the time is right."

A/N: Oh, I'm SO SORRY for this chapter! I promise I'm not heartless, this was just a "write about Remus' scar" bullet point on my outline and then I started writing it and... and then heartbreak and pain (a lot of it, considering this is my longest chapter ever) came out. BUT I solemnly swear not to cause young-Remus any more suffering! Here, take a hug! *hugs*

Also, I wanted to let you guys know I won't update this story next week. I want to post a Tie Your Heart chapter next weekend and I get a little burnout from trying to write both at the same time, so bear with me for a bit. A new Falling Leaves chapter will be up on November 8th, though :)

On a side note, I had written the most amazing sentence to include in this chapter, but sadly it got lost. RIP cleverly crafted sentence T_T

I hope you enjoyed it and let me know your thoughts if you can :)

Cauldron cakes to szaboalexandra1991, saralynfara, Ghostwriter71, xXMizz Alec VolturiXx, dprincess87, Chantal9, DareToBeBendy for the reviews.

To DareToBeBendy, tuityfruity333, and emjinn for adding the story to their favorites.

And to DareToBeBendy, emjinn, saralynfara, and flowerweasley for following the story.

Happy Halloween in advance to all of you awesome people! :)