Book: Harry Potter Series
Pairing: Sirius/Remus, implied Sirius/James
Author: Green Bird
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but, if I did… I'd kill Cho.
Rating: PG-13 or more or something
Note: (Happens somewhere during book #4, just so you know. Early November I figured, before Sirius talked to Harry in the fire.) Slash. Little violence. Limes sooner or later. Angst. Lots of it. Swathed in it like BBQ sauce baby! Oo…
Notes on this Chapter: Mmmm… illness. I'm so mean to all of you. I do this thing at my leisure… how awful of me. This took way too long. I apologize in blood. Honestly. Some depression, fever, nekkid-ness, suicidal thought and even a tad of fluffy angst in this one. And you know what I noticed… I did two different story chapters at the same time that had to do with ointment rubbing. Wtf? I dunno. Ointment!
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Tender
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"God damn it!" The wand flew across the room and clattered noisily to the floor. Sirius gave it a scathing look before turning panicked back to the bed. He couldn't levitate Remus off of it using the werewolf's wand; it was continuing to be stubborn, beside the urgency in the commands given to it.
Sirius tore away the bed sheets that Remus had managed to pull up around himself. He leant far over the ill man's body, slithering an arm under a bent neck and using the other to hook under his knees. The man groaned loudly as he hoisted the unconscious one off the bed, pulling him close to his chest. Thin legs quaked under the combined weight and Black tottered where he stood.
Remus's limp body was burning against the flat of his torso… he needed to sedate this fever! The water closet outside the door was too small to be of any real use… he would need to take him downstairs.
Damn that stubborn wand.
The stairs groaned at the combined weight of the two men centered on it and Sirius tottered like a sapling in a storm. Even in this sudden burst of energy that he had been given; Remus was still heavy. The dog's robes grazed the wall as he used it as support to his back and climbed down sideways. The staircase was much taller than he had remembered it.
From the den Buckbeak watched, now nervous at the sight of the crazed man cradled carefully in his human's arms. Black paid no attention to the cooing creature as he literally stumbled past him, eyes set on the hallway across the room. Remus sagged like a dead man in his hold, but the heat of his fever-plagued body and the sudden tremble that shook the wolf's taught muscle was almost terrifying.
The door of the bathroom swung open unceremoniously. A bath tub, with a showerhead hovering suspiciously above it, lay against the wall to his right. A long counter, covered with a pale and slightly stained top, sat by the opposite wall. Lifting his unconscious friend only inches higher, Sirius deposited the werewolf on top of it and turned to the tub.
Complicated silver knobs greeted him and once again he was thankful for the long bath he had taken; it had given him time to become accustom to the workings of the tub. In three quick twists lukewarm water gushed from the swan-necked faucet, pooling in the ivory basin of the tub. After punching the stopper into the drain, Sirius turned back to his ward, now slacking over, completely unconscious, on the counter. He could see the werewolf's body tremble in the fever.
Boney hands dove unchecked into the fabric of Remus's robes, tearing away at the buttons, ignoring the few that actually popped off in the process. The tattered grey robe was peeled off of sweat-damp shoulders to show the simple shirt and pants that the werewolf adorned under it all. They too were wet with the sweat of his fever and stuck to him awkwardly.
Black sat the senseless Remus on the very edge of the counter, holding him in place and letting his head fall forward to his shoulder as he hooked his hands around the hem of the shirt. The dog didn't even notice that he had removed it until his hands brushed the bare skin of Lupin's back.
But it didn't matter at all… not at all. Remus was nearly dying, there was no time to think, there was no time to even breathe.
Removing his pants was a far more difficult operation.
Black had to hitch half of his werewolf up onto the counter to snap off the belt buckle and draw the cord from around the garment's hem. From there he fisted both of his hands in the corduroy cloth and tugged downward hard. It took a few yanks, but soon Remus' pants were in the vicinity of his knees, in which Sirius could put him back on top of the counter to take care of the rest of it.
The fact that the cloth stuck to the werewolf like glue was no help at all, and uncomfortably enough, everything had slipped off with the pants. Black had had all intentions to leave undergarments well alone, but the stubborn pants had decided this for him and grabbed hold of everything it could, dragging them off as well.
The lukewarm water of the bath had filled and with a twist, the water stopped itself. Setting his jaw, Padfoot scooped the wolf into his arms once more, this time watching where his hands fell. Remus' skin was hot and slick with sweat but Black ignored it as he kneeled gently over the tub to make sure he wouldn't slip when dunking him.
Slowly, Sirius slipped Moony's body under the water, careful not to knock his lolling head against the porcelain rim of the bath. The limp body shuttered involuntary as it came in contact with the cooler water, the discomfort of the heat imbalance growing. Black gripped the back of Remus's neck gently and held his face well about the water as the rest of him was surrounded by it.
It was now, when all of the misleading clothes were away, could Sirius see the extent of the illness. The sores dotted Lupin's arms and chest like a leper's spots and his skin had lost all decent coloring to even prove that it was covering a living body.
Scooping water in his palm, Sirius dribbled some over the wolf's face, letting the drops roll off into his hair as he examined the scene before him. Remus was in horrible shape. He had never, even in all the years of playing caretaker in school, seen it this bad.
Moony was too thin, his skin was mottled and corpse-like. Why hadn't he gone to the hospital? Yes, they would treat him differently than a normal wizard, but at least he wouldn't look like this!
A groan near his hand diverted his attention back upward. Lupin rolled his head slightly, his half-open eyes flickering. The water temperature made him feel even colder than a fever naturally would, but the cooler liquid would bring his body back down to a safe level.
Black cursed the damned wand again and would three times a minute for the next two days. It would be so much simpler with a wand. He wouldn't have had to resort to submerging him had it of worked.
After a while, Padfoot unplugged the tub for a moment, letting a small amount of water leak out and then replaced it with an even colder mix. If he slowly dropped the temperature, then Lupin's body temperature would drop as well. As long as the water was not bitterly cold, they would manage through.
Settling Moony's head on the back ledge of the tub, Sirius freed his hands to see what else he could do. The bite marks on Lupin's forearm were washed and he began to gently bathe his chest, noting the sores and how he'd need to take care of them after the fever fell enough for Remus to leave the bath.
As he ran his eyes along the disease-riddled plane of the werewolf's chest, something caught his gaze that made his breath hitch. An old, long-healed scar ripped its way down Remus's front, starting at the collarbone and dashing diagonally down to finally stop just as it veered to the right of his abdomen. The skin of it shone slightly, still pinker than its pale surroundings. There were other scars on the werewolf as well, hundreds that crisscrossed him in odd patterns over the years. True, this particular scar was ugly, but it wasn't the way it looked that repulsed Black; it was the fact that he had been the one responsible for it.
He had teased the werewolf mercilessly one full moon, all in the hopes that Moony would snap. Black had wanted to do it only to scare Prongs. The werewolf never would have lost his composure if Padfoot had not provoked him that night so many years ago… provoked him just to frighten James… just because he was mad at him. This horrible scar remained upon his one living friend just because he had had an itch to get even.
Sirius touched the glossed skin, remembering that night the best he could. His hand ached at the memory of old injury, but his heart strained itself further.
A short distance away, Padfoot began to pick himself up from where he'd been pressed down, blood trickling from a crushed paw. The dog barked harshly at the stag who reared again and was kicking franticly at the crazed beast that charged it. What happened next turned those barks of warning into yips of horror.
The wolf had lunged, intending its teeth for the stag's throat… but the motion was cut short. The driving nail that was Prong's hoof connected with the werewolf's chest, cutting into the shoulder and drawing a deep diagonal gash down its breast. A burst of sound came from the agape jaws, a strangled howl, as the wolf fell heavily to the ground.
Immediately James fell out of form, tumbling onto his back. He jerked himself up roughly, spinning like mad and moved forward to the creature that lay injured. Sirius bounded up, whining and yipping; still the dog. Hardly thinking, he rushed to the wolf's aid only to have it snap at him. Spume foamed on its lips and its eyes glazed in pain. A black pool of blood had formed around it, flowing freely from the wound in its chest, and it gave a great shudder. James stood only feet away, eyes widened in terror at the writhing creature before him; soaked in its own blood and passing into shock. One hand gripped his wand and he fumbled with it as if he'd never had even seen one before.
Sirius molted his animal form and stood reeling to the side, the groaning beast at his feet, staring incredulity at James. "Do something!" He shouted, gesturing wildly to the wand. "Come on! You've got to do something!"
The wolf convulsed, yellow eyes rolling back into a thick skull. James couldn't think, he couldn't cast a spell or compose an incantation… all James could do was stare at his hand, tip wet with blood, and scream and scream and scream…
How scared Prongs had been when it had happened, when his hoof had fallen down at the wrong moment and caught the werewolf across the chest. Sirius saw it happening all so slowly, saw James start screaming at something, most likely in shock. Lupin was dying. Sirius was terrified… it was all his fault.
Unconsciously, Black gently removed his hand as he felt a small wash of that old terror come over him, followed by an unspeakable guilt. Moony had been attacking Prongs, Prongs had simply defended himself. He had nearly gotten Remus killed over an argument that did not even involve him.
Sirius winced and felt his stomach turn, almost as if was going to be sick. The old images swam thickly in his head and he turned to look upon Lupin's drawn face. The lines cut deeply into the once young and charming visage, and although he was still handsome, that youthful, boyish beauty was long dead. He tried hard to picture what Remus would have looked like at the age of twenty-seven, how he would have looked on his thirty-first birthday, what he had looked like when his condition hadn't drug him down…
The years had swallowed them both, consuming the space between as if it were no more important than a few days. What did he know of Remus now? Had he found a small niche for himself in the world? Had he been happy? Did he find love, at least for a short while?
This was an alien man floating in the water before him; this was someone very different from the Moony of their youth. How could Sirius have any idea of all of the things that had happened since the end of the war? Remus Lupin was an aging, socially ousted werewolf that lived alone in the shadow of his past.
…Perhaps, then, Sirius knew more than he thought.
"How did we end up this way Moony? Aren't these the years we're meant to live?" Sirius whispered, dripping water off of his fingers and letting it run down the creases of the ill man's forehead. "I remember a time when all we had to do was worry about what to buy Lily and James for their wedding gift or the price of box seats at the next Quidditch match." But, he knew what had torn them, all of them…
War was the perfect divider.
It would be his passion for the rest of his life… the war was what had ruined him and he owed himself the chance of justification. When You-Know-Who came back, he wouldn't rest. That would be his war to fight. That would be his chance to live.
The unconscious man shuddered from the lack of heat in the tub and Black came back to his senses. Once more the water temperature was lowered and Remus began to react to the cold by kicking his legs ever-so-slightly. Sirius held him there for several more minutes until he was certain that the werewolf's body temperature would not cause him to spontaneously combust.
If getting the man into the tub was hard, getting him out was damn impossible. Fucking wand. Black drained the tub first, patted the water off the sore-stained skin and ruffled it out of shaggy, patched gray hair. After he had shaken that hair through with the towel, he almost marveled at the way it spiked out every which way in a mess of keratin. Moony's hair was the prime example of mottled color. Random spots of grey appeared in the chaos of the fading brown. Soon that hair might not even be there. Remus aged so fast that it wouldn't be a surprise.
Black nearly toppled headfirst into the tub as he tried to lift the unconscious man from the basin, but on further attempts and several bashes of shins and wrists, Padfoot had the wolf neatly in his grasp.
Remus was by no means a light man, even though he was a scarecrow of a being. Perhaps it was just because Black was just as weak and no longer ran on the adrenaline that had carried Lupin down the stairs. He was not willing to try to take him back up. Sirius was perfectly fine with letting the wolf sleep in his bed, and due to the fact that his room was right across the hall from the bathroom, it was an easy feat. Moving as slowly as he could with a cold, damp and ill naked man in his arms, Black settled Remus into his bed.
The coverlet and sheets settled over his thin hips, modestly covering him. Sirius brushed his hand over the wolf's forehead, pushing stray hair out of the way as his dark eyes that surveyed the new situation. The red sores on the werewolf's chest looked ever-the-more shocking against his pale skin and Black scowled deeply at them. Even though Lupin had shown extreme discomfort at caring for the cankers on him, now that the man was out cold there was nothing to stop Sirius.
The next few minutes were spent in a fury of movement in Remus's small corner in the study that was dedicated to the mixing of the Wolfsbane potion. Small vials and containers were tossed aside as Sirius rooted through the collection of ingredients, looking for a simple fluid that every wizard needed: Maldave oil. Originally it was used as simply a thickening agent, but when mixed with just a drop of a substance with a healing property the oil would simulate the drop and become it. It never was very good for complicated potions as the oil did not have the proper chemical make-up, but to the bronze-pinching wizard, it was good enough.
Finding the bottle at last, Sirius nabbed the tiny, expensive vial of phoenix tears, most likely simulated due to their rarity, and flicked the smallest amount possible into the container. Hastily, he shook it and the clear oil hued itself a cerulean blue… rushing back, he hoped that what he had learned in Potions was not lost on him. Padfoot had had to make this mixture enough times to seal up his own slices and burns, so he hoped that nothing had changed.
Remus had not moved at all in his sleep so Sirius hastily pulled a chair up to the bedside and settled in it. Rolling up the thick black fabric of his sleeves, the dog uncorked the bottle and gently wetted his fingertips. Concentrating on one particularly ugly sore on the right of Lupin's collarbone, Black allowed the oddly colored unguent to drip off his hand and splatter onto the sore. The discolored skin twitched beneath it and, by pressing his fingertips on the wound and making one small circular motion, the mixture caused it to close up.
Relieved by the easy way the ulcer-like repulsion vanished, the dog eagerly attacked the other sores across Remus's chest, repeating the same small swirls as he ministered to them. It was like erasing marks upon paper and leaving only the smallest smudge to show in return. The areas where the treated marks once lay gleamed in healthy new skin, only slightly pinker than normal. As he worked his way down, Sirius noticed that Lupin began to react to his touches, twitching away from the cold ointment that made contact with such raw areas and moving his fatigued legs sluggishly under the covers.
It was when Sirius had worked down low on the ill man's abdomen that Remus groaned every time his skin closed itself up. Black fought to suppress an amused laugh at the rather feeble sound, but enjoyed it all the same. With that sound came a wave of relief. Although they were still quite endangered, for now, he was safe.
. . .
Noon had passed and it was almost tea when his eyes finally opened. At first, he didn't see a damn thing, but time allowed his retinas to kick themselves into starting. Not that there was anything interesting to see anyway: just a plain white-wash ceiling.
Wait… wasn't his bedroom ceiling tan?
Ugh… no. Too soon to think. His head was splitting in two and it hurt to even breathe. Maybe because there was something on his chest. One weak hand shifted its way painfully out from under the sheets with the speed of a tortoise and snailed it's way down them to the weight on his sternum. If he had the strength to, he could have just lifted his head to look at it, but one must really crawl before they can walk.
Raw fingertips pressed the thing that caused the weight and it was… it was furry… and warm… and breathing on him: it was a dog's head.
Remus's body hitched in a soothed laugh and closed his obscured vision off; relying all on touch. He was in the guest bedroom and Sirius had stayed with him. How he had gotten there was an obscure detail to be figured later. Gently, Lupin ran his palm down the flat plane of glossed hair on the top of Padfoot's head, brushing the shaggy tuffs that stuck up at the base of his ears and the boney knot on the back of his skull. Unconsciously, he dug his fingers into the soft hair behind the sleeping animal's relaxed ears and scratched gently. If memory served him correctly, Padfott melted for that. There was nothing more soothing than a touch sometimes, and Lupin nearly fell into a trance as he absent-mindedly freed his other hand to rub the large dog's snout.
It took a minute, and then the werewolf felt the hot wetness of the dog's tongue on his hand and his eyes snapped open again too look into the face of the large shaggy beast. It was a handsome dog, even with its heavy head and flopping ears. Lupin ran his hand over its silky face and down its neck.
The dog leaned in close, soot black eyes shining in alertness. Had he been awake for a longer time than Remus himself? The werewolf smiled when the cold wet of its nose pressed to his chin and a soft whine leaked from the beast's throat in question.
"I'm fine." The werewolf rasped, rolling his head slightly so he could see Padfoot better without lifting. "I feel like I've been pulled from the fourth circle of hell, but I'm fine."
One large paw set itself on his shoulder in what Remus supposed was a dog-hug and Padfoot bumped his muzzle against his jaw affectionately. The bed was so much warmer and more comfortable with another in it, and the werewolf signed deeply; the aches in his body ebbing under the soft cocoon of the sheets. It took a moment to figure out that there was nothing between him and those sheets, but it was not alarming. He would ask what had happened to him last night when his voice grew strong enough.
A chuckle rose in his throat again as Padfoot sniffed loudly into his ear, tickling him. Lupin was about to try to move away from it, but stopped short when the dog moistened his cheek some with his tongue and buried its nose in his chaotic mess of patched hair.
Remus felt the silk of the black dog's muzzle brush his cheek as it rooted playfully in his hair, snuffing loudly. Did Sirius just kiss me? Lupin was left to think about it when the Padfoot suddenly pushed himself up onto all fours and looked awkwardly down at him, a light of curiosity shining in the deep black eyes.
"What is it?" The bed lurched as Padfoot leapt gracefully off the bed, looked back to wag a few times, and trotted out.
Sirius lay calm on Lupin's chest as he felt the man awake, although internally his heart was frantic. It was a relief to feel the ill man stir under his heavy paws, but being so close to him stirred something deep in him.
After a minute, one thin hand wormed it's way down the coverlet, intent on his head. When the stiffened fingers found it, they pet inquisitively, running down along the plane of his skull. The man under him wheezed in laughter, and stroked him carefully. Padfoot bit back a loud groan as the fingers delved into the soft hair behind his ears, scratching at the sensitive spot. Sirius fell into a state of lovely bliss at the touch; something he had been so unaccustomed to for so long. It was almost instinct to kiss the hand when it rubbed at his snout, and when he did, the trance was broken.
Two tired, grey eyes opened to gaze drunkenly at him. For some reason, in that moment, Sirius felt himself drawn back years ago… Back to mornings when he had woken up to those blurred and tired eyes looking at him with the same calm and trust. A touch ran down his neck and impulsively the dog leant forward, touching that dazed and weary face with his nose, asking a silent question.
Remus rasped some reply, rolling his head groggily to observe Padfoot better. He could not stand the look anymore and began to bump the thin jaw with his nose, pushing the werewolf's head a little. If there was one thing he had always done in the morning, it was this. Draping his heavy paw over Lupin's chest to hold him, Sirius buried his furred face into Remus's hair, sniffing noisily in his ear.
It was the laughter that he was looking for, and he got it. Loving the sound of it at such a time, Padfoot kissed the werewolf's cheek, feeling the rasp of stubble on his tongue, and plunged back into the graying hair. The smell of Remus felt like a drug to him, and he felt a euphoria well up in his chest.
There was no scent of the fever. Hopefully what had spurred the it was sedated now. Then, the dog thought on it: fevers were the body's reaction to a hostile alien substance. It was a way of battling infections.
Infection.
Infections were caused by bacteria or parasites…
Padfoot jerked his head upward from his playful rooting; mind finally awake.
The moon would not cause a fever. Tremors and mood flux, yes, even insomnia and loss of appetite… but those were common for the Lichen kind in times of the moon. Fevers and sores were not.
Black stood, shaking the bed and alarming the half asleep Lupin out of his haze. "What is it?" He muttered, blinking blearily at him.
The dog leapt gingerly over the confused and half asleep man, gave a quick shake of his tail, and trotted out the door; heading for the nearest bookshelf.
An hour had given him nothing but a pile of books and a few flyaway papers. Sirius hated dealing with writings; he liked dealing with the real thing. Fortunately for him, the real thing was up, dressed and walking by the time his inspiration had dulled itself down.
Well, it could barely be qualified as walking. Leaning and staggering was more like it. Lupin wobbled like a drunk man into the study, one thin hand out against the wall to hold him upright. When Sirius moved to aid him, the werewolf coughed in protest, wanting to force himself to do it.
"Good morning sleepy wolf." Black grinned up at his friend as he finally made it to the concoction table that he had made a mess of.
"Is it really?"
"No, I lied." Sirius shook his head. "It's actually past four."
Lupin's face contorted. "Well, that explains it; only four more hours before sundown." The man's head bobbed, as if someone had just shaken him and he had yet to get over it. Despite the way he wiggled, his eyes seemed to set themselves on Black's face. "What happened to me?"
Sirius smacked his hand lightly down on the wizarding encyclopedia. "Fever. You suffered from a severe fever last night and have been unconscious ever since."
"How bad?" Remus had to resort to leaning against the wall, or rather, just fell into it and decided to stay.
"It was pretty bad. You had bite marks on your arm and soaked yourself in sweat." Black's face suddenly adopted a look of shock as he realized something. "Hold on a minute…"
Padfoot left even before Remus had time to comprehend half a sentence, abandoning him in the study. The werewolf looked around, his eyes slipping in and out of focus so quickly that he thought he might have been sick. He noticed the shape of Buckbeak across the room, glaring scathingly at him. For once he was very pleased the creature was tethered. Oh well; it was better to concentrate on closer objects… On the table to his side lay the mess that Sirius made, a mass of encyclopedias and medical related books. Further down was the putrid caldron of Wolfsbane, burping up a few bubbles at it was heated over a small, enchanted blue flame. By the looks of it, Sirius had been taking care of the potion as well as him.
"There, this should help with your loss of liquid." Something hot came in contact with his cool fingers, sending a pleasured shock through his arm and Remus looked down to find himself holding a cup of tea.
"Ah…" The liquid swirled, reflecting the same effect that the werewolf felt internally. His head felt compressed, as if his sinuses had enclosed on themselves. An ache pulsed at the base of his skull and behind sore eyes. The pain in his legs was smaller, but his knees threatened his ability to stand by quivering once and while. Other than the tenderness of his skin, there was one major improvement he had noticed with dressing; the leasions on his chest, arms and legs were gone. Some had still remained on the back of his neck and shoulders, and the werewolf planned to leave them until he saw the vial of Maldave oil on the side table. He had understood well enough, and taken care of the last of them.
Sirius picked through the papers again, almost attempting to organize the chaos he had made. The dog looked about to say something, but Remus spoke up before they grew too distant from the subject.
"What I said yesterday… after that, spell…"
"Was ridiculous." Black quipped in, eyes never leaving the stack of papers. "If I never had come, we'd both be worse off. You'd of laid lame in your kitchen for hours and then died of fever. I'd still be sitting in a cave somewhere and…" the dog finally was satisfied with the organization of the papers and looked up, a smile on his face, "I'd never had my ears scratched."
Lupin coughed a laugh, pulling his lungs up a good foot in his chest. Sirius frowned comically as he leant over the table and gently clapped the wolf on the back. After a moment, the hacking stopped and Remus let a ragged sigh pass his lips, the air punctuated. The wolf closed his eyes as they burned in irritation of use and didn't even jump as a hand massaged the back of his neck, soothing the tense muscles that had corded up as he jerked his head to cough.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't to that." Black's voice was close and warm in his ear, softening the jarring that normal sound seemed to make.
"No, it's good to laugh." Remus breathed deeply, enjoying the feeling of that human contact he had been suddenly getting again. It had been ages since someone had dared to touch him, and even longer since he had actually felt comfortable in it. "It lightens things up a little."
"You feel warm still." The hand seemed to be enjoying the contact as well, as the other joined with it and they separated to opposite shoulders. "Are you feeling a little cold or feverish?"
"No, I'm fine." He did feel a little feverish, but it was not the same kind of illness. Remus rolled his head forward, abandoning any personal boundaries he had set up to the two hands that kneaded his muscles. "I can't feel the fever anymore except for being a little tired."
"You scared me." It was whispered, as talk would be unnecessary as to how close they were. Black stood directly behind Remus, in a mirror of the grip he had held two nights ago. "I've never seen anything like that."
"It will get worse before it gets better Sirius." Lupin muttered, not wanting to ruin the concerned conversation, but needing to voice a concern that had been plaguing him. A feeling of dread sunk into the werewolf as he thought about it.
"How do you mean?" The hands lessened their pressure and moved to hold his upper arms as Remus swayed.
"In an hour or so… it'll start happening. I'll start slipping out of my mind. It might be a little unnerving for you, but I'll come back in a few minutes. You might just need to try to bring me down to earth." He breathed again, wanting to explain the spells he had been experiencing for months. "They're a sort of sleepwalking, but when awake. It's like being pulled out of your body and watching a film as you move; no control. Most times I can't remember what happens in those few minutes, but I have woken up outside and on the street before."
"Are you in any danger in them, besides being hit by a muggle's automobile?"
Remus smiled for a second before he continued. "Maybe, mostly I just fall or stumble if I move, then wake up as I hit the ground."
"I won't let you hit the ground." Sirius squeezed his shoulders gently and Lupin opened his eyes and sighed again.
"No, I don't think you will. If I remember correctly, you do make good dives to catch a klutzy werewolf."
The dog shook his head, chuckling softly and letting his hands fall off the slumped shoulders. Black moved around Lupin and set his sights back to the table, particularly to the gurgling caldron over the tiny faux fire. "Does this stuff still help you? Maybe taking some would help keep your wandering mind grounded."
Remus blinked at the Wolfsbane potion. It had hardly helped him before, but, then again, he had never seen how bad it could get without taking it. "I could use a goblet of it, just for good measure." The werewolf's mouth tightened in a thinner line. "Plus, I find it make me more alert and ebbs the pain."
"Are you in pain?" Sirius asked as he followed the command, dipping a ladle into the ugly-colored liquid and pouring it into a stone goblet. It flowed like half crystallized syrup and smelled like a compost heap. The dog did not want his friend to drink it.
"Padfoot…" The use of his school name made Black look up, only to see Moony grinning tiredly at him, the lines under his eyes deepening with the shadows. "I'm transforming into a monster, loosing my humanity, and putting you in danger. So, yes… I am in pain."
Sirius had taken post up at the table to watch Remus. Remus, who hadn't moved for five minutes after he got up to wash his hands. They had sat for nearly two hours at the table, forcing down the Wolfsbane and then larger glasses of pumpkin juice and tea to hydrate the werewolf, as he seemed to be shriveling. What little food that could be stomached was eaten, and they chatted dully, even though both of them were wound with apprehension for the coming moon.
Black was pleased with the fact that had Remus seemed to not be showing any of the symptoms he had warned him of; sudden jerks, flashes of aggression, heavy breathing, gnashing of teeth and the aforementioned conscious unconsciousness. Perhaps he would skip the precursor to the moon and just transform.
That was wishful thinking. When Lupin had gotten up to go to the sink, he half stumbled into the counter and merely stood there, head down, staring into the basin. Sirius remained patient for the werewolf to snap out of his daze, but five minutes had already passed without change.
Now, becoming worried, he moved closer to the frozen Remus, looking to see if his eyes were still open.
They were.
And they were yellow.
Lupin did not react to Black's presence and merely looked down on his hands that he now held before him. One thin palm was pointed upward and the amber irises stared unblinkingly down on it.
What's going on with him? What's he doing? Sirius began to wonder what exactly he should do in return when he suddenly witnessed Remus's opposite hand caress one taught wrist. He panicked when he saw the steel of a knife glimmering in it.
The faded blue lines under the paper-thin covering looked like a spider's network, drawn taught and netting over the underside of an arm. In the cool light of the evening, those lines sang out to him to be severed. They were drawn too tight and some pain would be relieved when the lines were cut, he knew it, but what would replace it was also feared. When the lines were sundered it would become very cold, he would be very tired. He had been cold and tired his entire existence; the broken lines wouldn't feel much different than life itself. But what would come wasn't life, it wasn't anything near it.
When warmer fingertips drew themselves across the cold pale surface he gazed so intently upon he knew that it was his own wrist by the way it tickled. He knew that the lines were his veins, and in those veins was the poison of the werewolf that ate at his body. Never could they rid him of it. Potions would try and fail, but the Lichen were an infected sect of the wizarding world. The putrid, unfortunates of a fateful bite. The villains, the dogs, the monthly butchers…
All because of what ran in those veins.
Yellow eyes, deadened by the evening, found a knife upon the countertop where his zookeeper had left it. All there was, was one quick motion to rid him of the cold. Magic did wonderful things. If he had his wand he could use it instead… there were so many words he had learned to end and alter a life, but he still knew none to fix this error of nature.
The metal winked up into his eyes as it tickled across the tight skin, laughing inside his head, taunting him to force it to bite…
It was then he felt the warmth around his wrist, a hand, not his own, had come to grip it gently. The warmer flesh tingled on his skin, heating his whole arm in it's kind take. A voice whispered next to his downcast head, just as tender as the hand.
"How did you ever manage before this?" It was not a question to be answered, but a muse spoken aloud. "Where are you Moony?"
His head felt heavy as his lifted it up, and the movement made his sickened mind twist in horror at being jostled. Despite the hand and the voice, it was far too cold. It had always been cold, how was he to know the difference in temperature anymore? "I'm here." The lungs pushed out. "I'm always here."
"But you were planning not to be." The voice was almost light-hearted, but he could feel the nerves in it; raw from his abuse. "I didn't think you were ever a thief Moony."
The words confused his hazed mind; there was no more cunning logic hidden in him anymore, the moon had covered all of him with a fog that would only clear when the sun hid herself fully. By then the mists would flee to reveal a monster.
"What do you mean?"
The other was closer now, holding onto him as if he was to escape, but not hard enough to prevent it. The keeper's fingers had taken his hand and pet the yielding flesh of the endangered wrist. "The most cowardly thing you can do is steal your own life." Its voice was strong and knowing, as if it understood full well what it spoke. "Your life doesn't belong to you; it belongs to everyone that knows you."
Something fractured in the back of his mind, and Lupin's eyes awoke, the grey jumping through the amber glaze that had formed. The werewolf turned enough to see the one next to him as the words replayed, and he saw Sirius, one arm wrapped over his shoulders, and his other hand holding Remus's protectively.
Sirius… The werewolf's heart quickened at the realization that he had begun to loose his grip, but could still hear his friend's words. What was I doing Padfoot? What is happening? He felt the cold of a blade in his hand, and dropped it into the sink; surprised. I wasn't… I wasn't trying that.
Black eyes watched him, their gaze consuming, as the figure broke it's own spell. You were stronger than any of us, he thought, and now you see fit to break. I won't allow it. When he spoke, it was an iron statement.
"Your life belongs to me Moony. You belong to me." Sirius watched as the newly-livened grey irises shone in slight confusion at the claim. "As long as I'm here, you're not permitted to rid yourself of this world."
"Isn't that a little selfish?" Remus's lips ticked in the smallest smile of amusement, but the question was sincere.
"I'd think not." Black's hand touched the back of the werewolf's neck gently, keeping the tired face towards his own, piercing through him with his tempered gaze. "Years in a place with no light nor happiness, having to lock away all thoughts you've held dear in case you lost them to the dark." Something had drawn them closer, and refused to let go. "So many memories ran away to them." The cold had fled. "But not you. I didn't let them take you, and I certainly won't let you go now that I've got you once more." Warmth had replaced it. "I lived through hell to see you again"
The silence roared at them and Lupin almost wanted to speak, but Black had caught him in a rush of nostalgia. There were no years between them now, no lost time or lost friends. They had sifted through the wreckage of the past and found each other.
"Would you just take yourself away from me like that?"
"If you stay, I will too."
They held each other desperately, as the dark would tear them apart. Evening had swallowed the sun and night came rushing to them, bringing with it the scent of something dangerous. Momentary peace was just that; momentary. The werewolf knew that the warmth of the dog's compassion for him would not last. Clouds lidded the moon, and the second her eye gazed down at him, he would break.
.
.
.
A/N: I'm so bloody dark. Why can't I be happy or upbeat for once? Gah. Sorry if you think I torture Lupin. Like he said; it'll get worse before it gets better.
There's only two more chapters to this I hope you know. I'll give you what you want before the end, I promise! Oh, and in case you didn't read it before… I am doing a pre and post BMR. In fact, this whole thing started off the post fic; The Last of the Marauders. Depressing junk. The Pre-fic will be called Crying Wolf. Damn angsty werewolf I make Lupin… oh well.
They're already half written, but hopefully I'll produce them faster than this one due to the inspiration that will be coming out in a few days. You know, I don't really like those actors they cast… especially not Lupin's. Ugh. I wasn't expecting him to be that attractive, being a graying wolfy and all, but… ugh. .
You know when I said 'bronze-pinching wizard' … it was originally 'knut-pinching wizard' but then I came to my gutter-senses and realized what I had written. Kinda funny tho… knuts.
On a totally different note, does anyone else think that Rupert Grint's fire-mullet thing is sexy? Cause… well… blush nm.
I won't even pretend to know when I can get the next one up; I'm not doing that again! Love you forever for waiting for me! GB
-PS: I timed myself on doing html for this: 9 minutes. Big w00t baby!
