Disclaimer:I don't own anything. It all belongs to JKR.
Rating:PG
Summary: Life of Lupin with hints of Remus/Sirius
Notes: I wasn't too sure about the ages, so do tell me if they're wrong, as they are rather essential.
He's five years old, and his parents are shouting. They're always shouting, maybe because he's four years old. He doesn't know. He just sits in the corner of his room and waits for the shouting to stop. His favourite corner. The one with the rug. It's beautiful, he loves it beyond anything he owns, except his parents, he supposes that he owns them as well, but at least the rug doesn't shout. It's midnight blue, and covered with stars, and in the centre, the full moon, in all it's lovely glory. When he was younger he used to lie on the rug and stare through his window at the real moon. But not now. He's practically a man now, and men have no need for the moon. He's Remus Lupin, and he has no need for the moon.
He's six years old and his parents aren't shouting. They're standing in his room, on the rug, and looking down at him. His mother's face is pale, he thinks she must have been crying. She crys more than she shouts these days. He's not too sure if this is a good thing. He rubs his shoulder. He got bitten last week. By a HUGE dog. It was terrifying, but he was brave. His mother has told him so many times over the week. More than he can count. And he can count up to...well... a lot. He's Remus Lupin, and he's the bravest boy in the world.
He's ten years old, and his parents aren't shouting. They never shout anymore. They only cry, but never in front of him. But he knows, and they know that he knows, so a balance has been established. His mother is standing in his room, where the rug used to be. He can't look at it anymore, so it has been banished to the attic. He tries not to think about it. When he thinks about it, it's all he can do to stop himself from crying. And he can't cry in front of his parents, when they try so hard not to cry in front of him, it wouldn't be very brave. And he is the bravest boy in the world. His mother is holding a letter, and it is extremely important. He doesn't know this, the letter itself looks very normal. But he can tell. From the way his mothers hand shakes, making the paper shudder, and the ways the lines in her face stand out more than usual, even during....he swallows and steels his face. He has to be brave. For his mother and the important letter. He's Remus Lupin, and bravery is what he does best.
He's twelve years old and his parents may or may not be shouting. He doesn't know, and he doesn't mind, much, because he has friends. 3 friends, to be exact, which he frequently is. Well, that's what Sirius says, and he should know. He says. Now that he thinks about it Sirius says quite a lot. He smiles to himself. He loves to watch Sirius talk. His hair always, without fail, flops into his mouth, and he has to spit it out before he can continue talking. He could sit and watch Sirius talk for hours. He smiles to himself again and turns to stare out of the window. The smile quickly vanishes as he sees the moon. The waxing, close-to-full moon. He looks back at his friends. Sirius is playing chess with James, and is losing rather dramatically. Peter is just watching, staring at awe in the two of them. Something sinks inside him, and he looks away again. They can't know, and they'll never know. It's best that way. That's what he tells himself every night. He's Remus Lupin, and he's destined to be alone.
He's thirteen years old and in some ways, he reflects, it's not unlucky at all. They all know, and they don't care. He is sure that this is the happiest he's ever felt in his life. They know, and they still want to be his friends. He's Remus Lupin, and he's the happiest boy in the world.
He's fifteen years old and extremely puzzled. Sirius has told him that they have a surprise for him, but he won't find out until later. Well, it's later now, and he's running out of time. He's about to go down to the willow, and they still haven't surprised him, in fact, they don't seem to be around at all. He looks around they common room once more, willing them to appear. But they don't, and he leaves, trying desperately to hide his disappointment.
The next morning, he is lying in the infirmary, staring at the cracks on the ceiling. He can barely describe how he is feeling, how wonderful he is feeling. He now knows that he has three true friends, and that they will be together forever. Moony, Wormtail, Prongs...and Padfoot. A dog, as close to the wolf as possible. He can't possibly describe how this makes him feel. He's Moony of the Marauders, and happiness is no longer just a word in his books.
He's twenty one years old and at a wedding. Not his own, obviously, he can't expect that...but he can hope. Sirius smiles at him and he feels his heart fluttering, straining at his ribcage. No, there is no chance of him getting married, not while Sirius is around. He watches Lily and James dance, lost in their own happiness, until he is dragged up by Sirius, despite his protestations, and forced to dance himself. He's Remus, and he too, is lost in his own happiness.
He's twenty two years old and terrified. He's huddled in a corner, the walls around him dank and dreary. James is gone. Lily is gone. Peter is gone. Harry is beyond his reach. Siri- no. He won't think. He'll cloud his mind with sorrow for James and Lily. He thinks back to the moment he apparated outside Godrics Hollow. The house in ruins. Ministry officials shouting and confused. Terror, panic. James' body lying in the street, sightless eyes staring up at him. The rain, pattering gently down, trying to wash away the horror of the scene. And the moon, floating above everything, oblivious to the carnage below. Everything always comes back to the moon. The tears prick at his eyes and suddenly he is crying into his robe. The fear of last night pouring into the fabric. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know what to think. And then his defence breaks down and Sirius rushes into his head. He feels like his heart has been clawed by the wolf he so desperately tries to hide. Then someone walks into the cell, and stops, waiting for him. They say something and he only registers the hate, the venom in the words. It takes a repetition before he recognizes it as his registration number. He gets up, his eyes dry, his back straight. He's Werewolf 4269, and he is is a Creature, nothing more.
He's thirty three years old and scared. He's standing outside Kings Cross station and can't bring himself to enter. He's too scared. And at thirty three! It's ridiculous. This fear, however, is familiar. He thinks back to that first day on the platform, over twenty years ago now. The fear is the same. The fear of not being accepted, rejection beyond his control. But he has a duty, to Dumbledore, and to himself. He closes his eyes and takes a step forward.
The platform is practically deserted, he is far too early. Perfect. He boards the train and quickly moves to the end compartment. As he drops his case the exhaustion hits him, and he collapses into the seat and sleep.
He wakes sometime later to the sound of hushed voices. The compartment is dark and the train has stopped moving. Obviously something is wrong. He stands up, conjuring a weak light that throws into relief the pale faces of the carriage's other occupants. They are all scared and unsure and as he looks arou - no. That face, the face he last saw frozen in Godrics Hollow. It is all he can do to stop himself crying out.
He's in the corridor, the dementor banished and Harry recovered. Harry Potter. James' son. He can barely stand with the emotion that is flooding through him. He wants to go back to him. To tell him how his parents loved him. To tell him everything that he will never know. But he is here to teach. And nothing more.
Sirius is here. He was in the school. He was seen by a student. He is at a loss. Dumbledore's trust is everything to him, he can't tell him about Padfoot. Not that Sirius being inside Hogwarts has anything to do with Padfoot. It must be some other magic. Yes, dark magic, from Voldemort. As he tries to justify his cowardice he notices the time. He is, of course, a Professor now, and must act as such He's Professor Lupin, and he has a class to teach.
He's thirty three years old and Sirius Black is on the floor in front of him. Sirius Black. Here. And, above all things, innocent. Twelve years of misplaced suspicion and hatred are lifted as he pulls him to his feet and embraces him. They fit together. Even with Sirius' gaunt frame held tightly against him it feels perfect and right and wonderful and nothing else matters as long as he has Sirius with him. He's Remus Lupin, and is truly whole again.
He is now thirty six. He is alone. The last of the Maruaders. James is gone. Peter is no longer the boy he once was. And now Sirius... . All as good as dead. He wants to scream. He wants to let out all the pain, and fear, and anger in one primal yell. He wants to let the beast out. Let it destroy everything around him. He wants to let it free, to wreak destruction on his entire life. But in his heart he knows he doesn't really want that. All he wants is for Sirius to be back with him. To see him become happy again, and throw off all that Azkaban has done to him. But he'll never see that. And neither will Harry. Harry. He has a duty to Harry, to protect him. He knows that James and Sirius would have wanted it. He turns, and there is the moon, just outside the window, almost close enough to touch. He forces himself to look straight at it, and feels the familiar fear. But he doesn't care.
He is Professor Lupin, Moony, the last of the Marauders, Werewolf 4269. But he is also Remus Lupin. And to be Remus Lupin, he must live and fight, and defy the moon.