YES, THIS IS SLASH! R/S
Author's Note:
Well, here it is people! Ch. 2! Sorry about the wait. To be honest, the 1st ch. wasn't quite how I wanted it, but I'm glad that those who've read and reviewed enjoyed it. For some reason when I went to upload the edited version, it loaded the old one. Damn thing… There were some parts I had taken out and others that I added, so I'll probably upload the real copy later.
For the second chapter, I just wanted to mention a few things before you start reading and are like, 'This is the worst story I've laid eyes on!' To some, this may seem a bit fast moving, or even dragging in some parts. I apologize if you think it was a waste of your time. The reason I'm writing this story the way I am, is so that it may allow me to express the feelings I think the character would be experiencing.
To really understand the emotion I'm trying to relay in my writings, I would greatly appreciate it, and I think you would enjoy it more, if it was read slower. Do whatever you want, but this is supposed to be from the perspective of a teenage boy whose being abused, and feels isolated, while at the same time, feeling heart-broken. Sorry for lecturing, I swear on …ahh..Something valuable, that I won't do it again! Unless required, of course! Enjoy and review on your own free will. Hint-hint, makes the author update faster….
No flames needed, but they're always welcome, 'cause I love debating! Flames that are written without a return user name or return e-mail address will be mentioned if I feel obligated, but otherwise will be ignored. Highly ineffective so don't waste my time or yours, unless you're willing to argue the point. And if it's about homosexuals, or the pairing that I support, I shall laugh merrily at you while eating ridiculous amounts of chocolate! Smiles pleasantly.
Rating has now risen to R for: descriptive details of different forms of abuse, language, slash, and others. There will be more in the future. Grins evilly Big thank-you's to all that reviewed! Hope you enjoy this!
Chapter 2: Painful Bliss
Sirius' POV
There are many types of abuse.
Physical is one of the many that are inflicted upon individuals.
When you've been struck so many times your covered in blue-black bruises, covering your back and chest, arms and legs, though the face was never an exception. When you lay in a heap on a cold tile floor, unmoving, knocked unconscious while hours slip away. When your eyes first open, in slow motion almost, to the painful throb that pulses maliciously at the back of your head where skull met hard floor. Lifting trembling fingers to a knot the size of a large walnut, fear so deeply laced within your mind that you almost want to draw your hand back, afraid that you'll discover fingers covered in the warm burgundy colored substance that mats your hair.
The first intake of breath is sharp, like a thousand needles prickling away at your body, almost as if your lungs were impaled by a sharp, thin, but very effective knife, leaving you shaking uncontrollably. Choking till you gag, and the remains of your last eaten meal, no matter how old, is visible, while a stench makes itself know. Mouthfuls of blood coughed up, while at the same time slipping to the floor because you'd rather be on the floor, vulnerable, then to cause more pain in movement, just in the present moment.
I've experienced it. It's worse then any combination of words put together could ever explain. You know what it means and you can give the dictionaries definition but you'll never truly understand what physical abuse is until experienced. To be thrashed for nothing more then believing that people are all equal… Hit until knocked senseless.
Unconscious.
It's something that lives in your nightmares…and very few ever come to fully grasp the true meaning of the term physical abuse.
All details… from the beating I received as punishment for my latest 'sin', as my parents labeled it. From where I lay on the kitchen floor, I can see are clock chiming. One…two…three…four…? 4 a.m. I've been out for three hours. Usually, I make it a point of not leaving my room, even for dinner. Unfortunately, no matter how much I starve myself, I still am human, and require food. Around 12:30 I gave into the rather loud growls and painful stomach spasms. I sneaked down to get some toast and water…pretty light in my own opinion, so that my parents wouldn't notice I was prowling the house at night. Of course, my parents were out there in a heartbeat, demanding to know why the hell I was slamming things around at this time of night.
And thus ensued the following argument in which you already know the result of.
Bracing myself on hands and knees, I try to steady myself, though the floor is blurry and my head is swimming. Nausea doesn't take pity on any of us it would seem. Seeing as how I consumed nothing solid, I find myself choking on nothing but bile, water, and stomach acid. My hands search desperately for the top of the counter, anything, to pull my self-upright. The very thought of braving the staircase leading up to my bedroom nearly makes me want to fall limply back to the floor, at least until the painful throbbing in my head decreases.
But I also know that if I lay here any longer, I run the risk of waking to the same yelling and thrashing that I experienced before I lost consciousness.
My mother would smile gleefully at being presented with another opportunity to inflict more pain on her oldest son, especially it following such a short time after the last proceeding one.
I faintly remember crawling out of the kitchen that night, and loosing consciousness at some point while I try to make it up the seemingly endless staircase. When I awoke, I was lying in darkness upon my bed, my room door shut tightly.
Though I hardly speak to my brother anymore, he has proven to me before that he does not like to see me beaten repeatedly. I've spoken of it to him…and he says that I'm a dishonor to our family name, that no honorable Black was ever beaten. I smile bitterly at him, and tell him that I have no wish to be part of a family that only lives by pride and purity.
Regulus is the very essence of the Black title that my parents wished I were, yet…I believe that though there is hate between us…there is the unbreakable bond of brotherhood. He'd gladly beat me into the ground. He simply believes that beating until broken will not attain anything.
He's right.
I missed that morning's sunrise, so here I lie, unmoving on my burgundy quilt, trying to find a way to rid myself of thoughts of Remus, without having anything to reflect upon.
I seemingly drift between the state of ugly reality, and beautiful nightmares. Maybe I hit my head harder then I thought, because when I open my eyes, I see Remus and James starring worriedly down at me. Remus has his hand pressed to my forehead, his lips mouthing unheard words.
So softly that I simply gaze upon him with mild stupidity.
"You'll be alright Padfoot. You'll be alright."
I sigh, and lose consciousness.
To bad beautiful dreams don't exist…
Sexual.
One that I've luckily had no direct experience with. I've received my fair few insults of whore, and being asked if I enjoy being a sex toy to half-breeds and mud-bloods but I've only had to dish out a few punches in the past to silence such taunting. My parents on the other hand, unfortunately can't be silenced in the same way. Any reason to pitch objects at my head is fine with them. They once went as far to ask if I would be willing to marry into the Malfoy family.
I nearly vomited.
I've never laid one finger on any girl.
It's hard to when all you want to do is snog your 'male' best friend senseless…
Male…and quite beautiful best friend…
My family is upheld by the strictest of morals, one of which means almost no contact with others. My brother is given warm smiles and the occasional pat on the back from our father. Nothing more. I can live without that anyway. I'd take it as an insult if they even tried to touch me with affection after everything they've said to me.
Verbal is the next on the list…
Probably the worst for me, considering the number of times I've been told I'm worthless…
If it's not screaming at me for being who I am in which you can't really help, then it's my friends, in which they know I'm incredibly protective of all of them…
Remus has of course been a sorer subject for me…
I fear her words more then her fist…
Bruises can heal…
Words, I've discovered, replay in your mind…
Until you think you've gone crazy.
Screw-up…you fail at life…slaves have more honor then you…I don't…love you…we've never loved you…What's wrong with you!…
Anything's better then imagining those very same words coming from the same mouth that he dreams about kissing, and drowning in every time he shuts his eyes in wishful thinking…
Mental.
My seventeenth birthday went unnoticed, not that I'm complaining. I'm lying in my room on an unmade bed, my covers thrown to the floor and tangled around my legs in a helpless heap. The window is up, and even though it is mid-afternoon, the sky is a dark gray, while a warm summer breeze sifts through, ruffling my bangs lightly. The soft sigh of thunder vibrates through the tinted crimson glass and the sweet scent of rainfall that has yet to appear wafts threw. The same angry rain clouds that cover the sky and my horizon, filled with the same ugly feelings, fitting my mood, or better yet, reflecting the stinging pains that seem laced deeply within the muscle of my heart.
God! Why is it he is all I can think about!
I close my eyes and he's there, smiling softly, his eyes glittering a warm gold-brown while lying next to the lake in the sun on a cool, spring afternoon. I breathe, and long for his sweet scent; the vanilla from his shampoo, but also the underlining scent of sweat from after we've finished rough housing. His own, very unique aroma that can only be found while standing particularly close to him or while lying on his bed.
A scent I crave to have on me.
Countless nights last year we spent together, just the two of us. Under a blanket of stars, or a duvet of midnight blue, with silver thread interwoven…
When warm summer nights like those come back to me, and I dream, I see those eyes. Eyes that say more then any amount of words could. I remember him lying in the uncut grass, under the old oak tree that lives by the lake. Fantasies are sometimes sweet. Bittersweet. I dream the waves run along the bank, lapping gently at the earth and warm mud there. I imagine him so clearly I sometimes mistake it for reality. He leans in close to me; his head tilted up just the smallest bit, his soft peach colored lips open a fraction. Those slightly feminine auburn eyelashes that feather gently against the high curve of cheekbones. I run my hand through my hair, frustrated with myself, only to find myself wishing that it were his tawny tresses that I had my fingers tangled in.
And then I remember the real reason behind my pain…
I betrayed him…
I sigh, aware that I haven't left my room for the last week. In the morning, I come out to meet the sunrise, relieve myself, because as all humans, wizards or muggles, we all require the use of a bathroom. Sadly. If not for that, I would stay in here forever, locked away.
"Remus. Remus J. Lupin."
And just as I mistily imagined, it sounds sweeter when spoken, though quite lovely when just thought. It rolls off my tongue, like it was always meant to be said everyday with my voice.
What of every hour?
Minute?
My voice cracks as I mutter wearily, "I'm in love. With my best friend."
Who's the fool? The rain is coming now…the moisture in the air is captivating.
Fur and fangs, my dear sweet friend… you're my moon and I your star…or at least I wish. Were both in need of finding some sort of truth in ourselves. Was this fate, Moony? Was it fate that made me step into that classroom that day? When I asked your name? When I looked into your eyes longer then would be deemed normal?
When, by the jealousy that possessed me, drove me to make that one fatal mistake…
"Don't touch me…"
I know I screwed up…
"Remus! Please…Listen to me!"
"Stop it! Haven't you hurt me enough!"
It's not like I can forget it either…
"Moony-"
"Are you so incredibly self-absorbed to steal this from me too? If you have any feelings left of me, even hatred, then spare me by leaving me this. Do not rob me of my hate!"
…Not when I keep hearing his voice, or seeing his pained face as he twisted away from me.
My mind is unsettled, my voice hoarse from no use, my body filled with the desire to touch the one who has no interest in me…
Light taps on the roof sound, and the leaves rustle gently outside my bedroom window as the rain pours down softly. I can see the road from where I lay, and how the water breaks on it. Light and slow at first, like a steady drumbeat…the soft beat of a heart at rest. It picks up within moments, becoming heavy and hard, mist forming to cover the sodden ground, the road quickly becoming invisible.
'One month. One more month…'
It would prove to be one of the longest and most drawn out periods of my life…
Remus' POV
I walk to the platform alone, my trunk being dragged behind me on the small trolley I had managed to get my hands on even among the mass amounts bodies grabbing for it. My owl hoots at me with annoyance as it bumps noisily along, and all I can do is make a soft shushing sound. I'm alone…again…
At the end of my sixth year, my closest friend showed me something…
…That trust, doesn't exist for people like me…
I approach the concrete wall, mild amusement twisting my lips as I see a small black-headed boy tell his mother he wouldn't run at seemingly solid brick wall. The younger woman looks frustrated and seems like she's ready to tell the boy off…
"Hey there. Need some help?" I ask politely as I approach the wall myself. The woman has pretty brown eyes…I don't like them.
"Oh! You must be an older student! See Jeremy, he'll show you what to do. Stop pouting, you'll have tons of fun!" The mother tries to say convincingly.
The boy's bottom lip puckers out, forming a very familiar expression to Remus. The boy is pouting.
Sirius Black used to do this to him when he wanted attention…it brings back fond memories when it worked…
"Let's go on an adventure!"
Remus looked up at the gray-eyed god, sulking in all his glory against the carpeted floor of the Gryffinder Common room.
"If you ask my opinion, your personality is adventurous enough for me…" the amber-eyed boys comments lazily from his comfortable position on the couch, a book leaning securely in the crook of his right arm. They were the only two still up…
"Well, I am quite a handful," Sirius states, smugly.
"More like a pain in the ass…" Remus mutters dryly. The unsuspecting werewolf doesn't notice the dangerous glint in his friends' eye until it's too late. Within seconds, they're on the floor rolling around, wrestling, grunting as they playfully fight for dominance with one another. Sirius winds up on top, straddling his friends waist. He leans over his wheezing friend, smirking in delight at the feel of the other boys' warm body struggling against his own.
"Play with me?" He asks, somewhat to coyly, and if Remus didn't know better, he would almost say that there was lust contained somewhere secretly in those light gray eyes of silver ice.
"No. Get off of me!" Moony wiggles, trying to break free.
Suddenly the bear-like black dog is pinning him down, that free pink tongue darting quickly over his face and lips before snuffling his wet nose against Remus's neck.
"Padfoot!" Remus shrieks quietly, pushing the grim away. Within seconds Padfoot's off, running for the portrait and corridors, with Remus running break-neck after him, silently laughing.
The woman is starring strangely at me.
"I'm sorry. Did you say something?" I mumble, suddenly aware that I dazed off again in memories.
She blinks at me… "No. Go on Jeremy."
Remus turns in time to see the boy sulkily walk towards the wall, disappearing right before their eyes.
"Ah well…sorry I wasn't much help." Remus offers as a simple apology to the stranger.
"Not at all. Thank-you anyway. Have a safe journey yourself young sir."
I nod to the woman, before disappearing as a crowd of teenagers walk by.
My gaze is downcast as I hand over my passport and drag my truck onto the train. The halls are full.
I unconsciously wince as first years bump into me, hitting my wounds from my last transformation, which was much worse then I expected. Having my friends there for me every moon for the last two years, has by all means, spoiled me. My alter ego was not pleased to find itself back home in the prison that was my residence for countless years before my acceptance at Hogwarts.
Now, by all means, I have no idea why we chose the last apartment on this forsaken train as 'the Marauders' apartment, but it's hell every year trying to get back there.
Some girls giggle as I pass, and I blush, aware that I have matured quite a bit over the summer, my body finally filling out a bit, making me appear more lean and muscled, like James and Sirius. Of course they have Quidditch to thank for their bodybuilding. I have painful transformations that I suffer through each and every month, burning all my body's extra resources for the change and the healing process, never allowing me to gain much weight. My muscles are hard and compact, with scars littering my body like a disease.
A body, that from a distance may appear attractive or beautiful clothed, though when stripped, looks like the monster that is contained within this shell. Funny how it reflects what's on the inside, I believe they would call it irony, though I do not laugh as though it were a joke. The best you can hope from me is a twisted smirk, usually making many feel uneasy.
I can't help but laugh.
A hollow and very empty laugh that is. Somehow, I feel as though I am not the only one this year who is hiding deeper secrets of pain, though.
Peter, envy perhaps? James's never ending conquest for Lily maybe? And Sirius. Now there's a mystery!
As I approach the misty glass door to our seats, I make out the bent form of my loudest and often most devious friend, slouched in his seat, elbows resting on his knees, palms pressed against eyes. It is a position of vulnerability and stress, one I am familiar with. Is he all right?
Should I even care?
Swallowing hard, my mind and inner wolf immediately flee to the back of my mind, the pain from seeing Sirius' face the morning after he took my darkest secret, the only thing that could ruin me, and exposing it to not just anyone, but to Snape.
The one person, who already didn't need a reason to hate me, had now been given one.
Can I find it in myself to forgive?
Without thinking about it further, I gulp in a choked breath, and reach shaking fingers out to grasp the bronze door handle.
I pull it open, and stare in awe as the black haired boy I knew last year jerks up, his gray eyes cold and withdrawn. He is no longer Padfoot, the boy who riddles my dreams with haunted gray eyes that follow me.
He is the essence of pain. My pain and his pain. My heart feels like it's in my throat, and he stares into my eyes, and before I know what I'm doing, I've stepped forward and reached out to him.