A huge thanks to Mssr. Moony for their review on the last chapter - your comments were an inspiration of what to do with Sirius and Lina's interaction this chapter. As always, a gigantic thank you to mmauney12, my constant reviewer. I hope you enjoy this chapter - I kept your reviews in mind as I wrote it. Finally, thank you to Wendy for reviewing! I'm glad you've enjoyed this story well enough to decide to review - hopefully this chapter lives up to your expectations! I wanted to cut this chapter off at roughly 5k words, but all of your thoughtful words motivated me to power through to give you guys the kind of chapter you deserve - I hope you know how much I appreciate each review!
We also have another departure from just using Messalina as our narrator this chapter - it gets repetitive for me to just write about her all the time (so I'm thinking it's similar for you guys reading it) and this way we can see parts of the story from someone else (another surprise) this chapter. I hope you guys don't mind when I do this to switch things up!
I had hoped to get this chapter out before my semester started but writer's block kept me from being able to get anything written. Unfortunately, I had had the entire new few chapters mapped out in my mind last month but studying and homework has replaced that and I struggled with a bit of writer's block on this one. For the fastest updates, please review - I love hearing what you guys think!
Previously on Above All Others: Messalina is in the Hospital Wing with a bout of scrofungulus when she learns the true reason for her disownment - infertility that would prevent her from marrying her once betrothed Sirius Black. While the Prewetts are visiting, the Marauders make an appearance at the Hospital Wing and Messalina decides she needs to go after Sirius.
Had three things gone in Messalina's favor that moment, there was no telling exactly what she would have done to Sirius Black in the Hospital Wing that day. She had fully intended to spring from her bed, push past the dividers, and tell him exactly what she thought of the secrets he had been keeping. She could envision the gasps from the others in the Wing, the sharp retorts from Sirius about how he was but a pawn in a game that was far over their heads, the way her blood would pump so fast through her ears she would scarcely be able to hear him over her own rage. It was a delicious fantasy - but it was just that, a fantasy. It existed only in her mind, the speech that she had prepared dying on her lips as soon as she went to set her plan into motion.
For all of the times she had contemplated her current state of illness, she had not yet taken the risk of checking to see exactly what happened if she dared disobey Madam Pomfrey and move from the bed. Consequently, she was hardly aware of how much her present physical state revolved around her laying awkwardly propped up at a precise angle Madam Pomfrey insisted upon to keep her lungs stable and her head elevated. She was not, as she had been reminded several times already, to move whatsoever from the position lest it trigger something in her lungs. And Messalina had tried to obey the matron's wishes - she really had.
She had not, after all, been out of bed since she had collapsed in Defense Against the Dark Arts except with Madam Pomfrey's help to hobble to the bathroom. And those journeys (and considering the energy it took out of her, she was fully considering a simple bathroom trip a journey) were aided by potions to clear her head briefly and stifle her cough. Messalina had more than enough memories of trying to make a mad dash to her bathroom at Lucien Manor to hack something up, and they all seemed to end with her spread eagle on the floor gasping for air and dribbling blood onto the luxurious carpet. Though Messalina doubted Madam Pomfrey would be as cruel as Yelena Lucien about the affair, she did not want to risk upsetting the matron by moving unless ordered to do so.
But those rational thoughts disappeared the second she heard Sirius' barking laugh, replaced by images of her striding across the Wing dramatically and demanding an explanation for his actions. She perhaps ought to have realized the unrealistic nature of this fantasy when she noticed this fantasy-Messalina looked gorgeous and seemed to have spent several hours in professional hair and makeup prior to the grand reveal. Actual Messalina hadn't showered in several days and she was fairly certain the hospital gown she was wearing was meant for someone four times her size, giving her what she assumed was an gangly, sickly look on top of her already pallid appearance. But she made her decision to bolt in a split second, and such a comparison was the furthest thing from her mind when she pulled herself into a sitting position. She would only have a few seconds before Gwen would realize she was on a war path, and she needed to take full advantage of her head start.
And a head start it was indeed. With all the confidence in the world, Messalina threw back the thin sheet on her bed and swung to put her feet on the cool tile floor. Once she had contact, she moved to stand up and stride purposefully from her bed. She was barely able to sit up before her brain sloshed painfully around in her skull as though it had turned to mush, but the connection between her pain centers and her mind seemed to be on delay as she was able to fully stand before the pain truly kicked in. Clutching a shaking hand to her head, Messalina groaned aloud as though the sound would relieve her of the agony. Gwen Prewett was staring up at her in shock, her arms still resting on the sides of the hospital chair Madam Pomfrey had brought her, and it was Gwen's surprise that gave Messalina the confidence to take a step towards her mortal enemy.
It was as though her legs had turned to jelly as her entire body focused on the pain radiating out of her brain and before she could even complete her step, white noise like on the television set at Lily's after a certain time in the morning filled her ears and her vision darkened as though someone had snuffed out like the sun. It was not a surprise then that when her clammy foot finally found purchase with the ground she pitched right over as though dragged to the floor by the weight of her head. She crashed into the canvas divider that separated her from the rest of the wing, bringing it down with her in a huge crash she barely heard over the sound ringing in her ears.
The jarring fall was enough to remind her lungs that they had fluid in them and she began to cough at the realization after a few seconds of staring up at the ceiling in a stunned daze. Now that she had stopped moving, her head slowly stopped spinning and the white noise receded to a dull droning. She was still so surprised her grand exit and confrontation had not occurred that she could hardly form a thought other than 'my lungs hurt, I should cough'. Gwen Prewett was hovering over her, her freckled face anxious and concerned as she called to someone near the entrance of the Hospital Wing. Something was dribbling down the side of Messalina's mouth and she realized belatedly it was blood - she must have shifted enough mucus in her throat and lungs to truly scare Gwen Prewett as the woman had gone quite pale above her.
Two firm, strong hands were on her shoulders then and Messalina blinked up at Samuel Prewett. He looked confused but determined, his thick eyebrows knitted together and giving him a distinctly flustered appearance. He pulled her up enough that her head rolled around on her shoulders as though she was an infant incapable of using her neck for support. The pain associated with the movement was enough for her to screw her eyes shut to avoid crying out and her state allowed him to manipulate her back into her hospital bed. Once she was laid down, Gwen Prewett puttered about replacing pillows here and there, stabilizing her lungs and cushioning her head, grumbling something about the arrogance of youth under her breath. It gave Messalina enough time to wonder why Madam Pomfrey wasn't assisting with the process, and as soon as the waves of pain seemed to abate, she opened her eyes to see where the woman was.
Messalina had not seen beyond the canvas divider apart from to stagger to the bathroom with Madam Pomfrey, and while she had known most of the other seventh year Gryffindors were assembled there, she was still surprised to see all of them staring at her unabashedly. Lily, Merlin bless her heart, must have been talking to Samuel Prewett before the great crash as she was standing awkwardly near the door to the Wing, her eyes almost comically wide. The Marauders were most likely dropping Remus off for the full moon that evening as she couldn't muster another reason for them all to be standing together seemingly uninjured. James and Peter were staring quite openly at her, and although Sirius was still grinning at whatever had made him laugh, the gleeful look on his face disappeared the instant his grey eyes met hers. He couldn't meet her eyes longer than that split second though, his eyes sliding away to focus on something just above her left shoulder. And she didn't miss the way he took what seemed to be an unconscious step backwards towards the door. James didn't seem to notice his friend's retreat, though the movement was enough for him to glance back at Lily as though to make sure she was alright and safe.
The second thing that saved Sirius from Messalina's wrath that day was that she hadn't a clue where her wand was. She had last seen it in the DADA classroom on her and Graham Pucey's desk, but that was before she'd collapsed and broken her nose. What had happened to all the things she'd had with her at the time was as much a mystery to her as how she had felt fine laying in bed and talking to Gwen only a few moments before.
Movement was impossible now, as was the idea that she could do anything physical, and the concept that she had believed such things possible but five minutes ago seemed laughable. Had she known where her wand was, though, she might have been able to summon the strength to try to snatch it before Gwen or Samuel could stop her and curse the life out of Sirius Black. Even in her weakened state, she could think of more than a few spells Vector had taught her and Graham that she would've liked to try out on the boy.
Messalina hadn't even thought of her wand prior to this moment, and she realized with a start that the idea of being defenseless in Hogwarts scared her for the first time. It was the most valuable thing she owned, and some students in the school would likely get an invitation to join the Death Eaters on a platter if they took advantage of her illness to attack her. They'd probably get a nice amount of money from what had once been her inheritance if the hateful look Antonin had given her the last time she'd seen him was any indication of what he wanted to do to the girl that had tried to ruin the Dolohov-Lucien names. The only good bloodtraitor is a dead one, she had once overheard him saying in the library, though she was fairly certain overheard was the wrong word to use. He had been looking right at her when he said it, his voice pitched just high enough that she would hear but not the librarian and the DADA professor that had flirted with her all of her fourth year.
And she knew Antonin would hand over a significant amount of galleons to get his greedy hands on her wand - he had always said Ollivander had made a mistake in giving her a wand made from the same blackthorn tree as Antonin's. She recalled the year before she started Hogwarts when her cousin had announced with such pride over dinner that he had received one of the rarest woods for his wand and the way her parents had doted on him for it. That pride had turned to rage when just a year later when she'd returned from shopping in Diagon Alley, feeling weak and exhausted from being surrounded by so many people for the first time in years. So much bustling and jostling had left her quiet at dinner that night, and when her father had inquired after the type of wand she had received (the first time in days he had shown any kind of interest in his own child), she had been too tired to anticipate her cousin's anger.
It's the wand of a warrior, he had screamed at her, spittle flying from his mouth. It's for going after muggles, not pretty little charms! Antonin had been sent to bed without dinner for his unprovoked tantrum, the first and perhaps only time she had ever seen him be held accountable for his actions, and her father had looked at her appraisingly before returning to his newspaper. Messalina's stomach churned at the idea of how she had focused on those few seconds of pride in her father's eyes for weeks afterwards, telling herself that for once she had done something to be proud of and her father was pleased. And how that split second reaction had been enough to fuel fantasies in her mind that when she went to Hogwarts her father would find other reasons to love her. What a joke.
The third and final thing that saved Sirius from the full brunt of Messalina's wrath, no matter how weak it would have been given Gwen Prewett's gaze pinning down on the bed, was Remus. She might have been able to overcome her fear of further upsetting Gwen or her inability to reach Sirius physically or with her wand had she been able to continue problem solving, but the moment she realized why Madam Pomfrey had not been at her side immediately, all of the fight went out of her. Messalina had never seen Remus so close to the full moon before - he usually disappeared and reemerged two days later looking tired but otherwise himself. She chided herself for thinking he would look the same prior to his monthly transformation - it had been naive to think it would not have a greater physical toll on him.
Remus was looking right back at her, and she swallowed thickly at the sight. His usually bright green eyes had dulled as they grew bloodshot and weary, as though sleep had evaded him for some time. His legs seemed to be crushed by the weight of his body, and he was leaning heavily on Madam Pomfrey as though she was the only thing keeping him completely upright. It was as though he had shrunk in on himself, a hollow look about him that she did not care for at all. Had she not recalled seeing him but two days before in DADA, she might have thought years had gone by since she had last seen him. He had the look of a man far older than his seventeen years, and such a change over a short period of time was shocking. It seemed life went on outside of the Hospital Wing.
"Lina!" Gwen's voice was the first she heard about the dull roar of white noise in her ears. The sound jarred Messalina back to reality and she tore her eyes from Remus' to look up at her mother. "Are you alright? Lina?"
"You knew." Her voice was barely above a hoarse whisper, but judging by the way Sirius started at the sound, she knew he could hear her. Sirius' retreat had only gotten him a few steps behind James and Peter, but it appeared his feet were glued to the floor as he seemed to sway in place without truly moving.
Messalina's throat grew tight as she stared at him across the room, feeling almost as though she was looking at her own father. She had almost forgotten the way Licorous closed himself off to the world as though showing emotion was his greatest fear, but in that moment it seemed to be Sirius' as well. Perhaps if he'd stepped in front of the boggart they would have seen an emotional Sirius step out, a contrast to her own perfect pureblood doppelgänger. "You knew all along but you never said anything. That wasn't your secret to keep all these years - I hate you. I wish -"
Whatever she had been been going to say was lost to time, much like the fiery rant she had cooked up in her head seconds before collapsing into the canvas divider, as Gwen Prewett grabbed Messalina's wrist so tightly it felt almost as though the woman wanted to break it. The little voice in the back of Messalina's head was almost grateful for the intervention - surely declaring she wished Sirius Black dead or otherwise injured in front of half of the other seventh years would serve only to complicate her life.
"Messalina, enough," Gwen chastised, looking as though Messalina had been replaced with another, angrier version of herself. Like Gwen didn't even recognize her after all these years. Messalina stared at Sirius, willing him to dare to come up with some kind of response to her accusation, but instead he turned on his heel and fled from the wing as though she was physically chasing him away. She glared at his retreating form until Gwen righted the fallen canvas divider with a flick of her wand, and only then was Messalina aware of the hot tears that ran down her cheeks.
He couldn't get away from her fast enough. Everything seemed to be running on a delay, from the way his body seemed only to move after his mind had been positively screaming for him to escape for what seemed like hours to the way he only seemed to register that he was finally outside of the Wing once he was two floors away.
The interaction and accompanying panic still seemed to dictate his every movement, his fear driving him as far away from Messalina Lucien as possible. Rationally, he knew she would likely still be crying in that bed if he were to look at the Marauder's Map tucked in his back pocket but his mind kept telling him she was right on his tail.
He hadn't felt so out of control since early that summer when he'd left Grimmauld Place for the Potters', bloodied, bruised, and disowned, but even as his father had yanked his hair and forced him to watch as his mother blew his portrait off the drawing room wall, he had had a plan. Albeit one that seemed to consist of only seven words (get to the Potters and they'll help), but a plan.
But now, Sirius Black was at a loss. He did not know what was going to happen - he had not stayed long enough to find out. He had fled the instant he realized that the second everyone stopped looking at Messalina they would be looking at him, questions and maybe even accusations in their eyes.
Messalina hadn't seemed to realize that when Samuel Prewett had carried her back into the bed, the flimsy hospital gown had been just sheer enough in the sunlight for them to see the curve of her breasts, and Sirius knew it was enough to guarantee Remus' attention, and probably Peter's too if he was being honest, for a few seconds longer than Lily and James. And then they would be looking to him for answers the sick girl back there was in no state to give. He had been telling himself for years that she would never find out about their certain connection, but then she got sick and he had known it was only a matter of time until she got her hands on that form that laid out two of his greatest secrets.
He had wanted to stand tall back there and own up to his silence, to be able to say something to the girl that was looking at him as though he had ruined her life. But in his imagination, if there had ever been a confrontation, she would be in her usual state. She'd be strong enough to yell at him and demand answers, but she was anything but. Her eyes had a familiar fire in them, but she was weak - her lips bloodstained from coughing so hard, and the look that the shock of the news mixed with her scrofungulus was enough to nearly kill her. He had been in the Hospital Wing probably hundreds of times during his years at Hogwarts, from things going wrong during a prank or a fight to bringing Remus to the Hospital Wing and picking him up when he was ready, and never once had he felt as sick as he had in the moment of Messalina staring at him.
He had been trying to be a good friend to Remus by even being there in the first place. They always brought Remus to the Hospital Wing before meeting up at the Shrieking Shack at sunset and he hadn't anticipated being attacked by a girl he could hardly stand.
But why can you hardly stand her? The accusatory voice in the back of his head whispered, and Sirius shook his head firmly as though such an action would rid him of his conscious. If only it were that easy, he would have done it years ago. First to rid him of the knowledge of Messalina's infertility and then to forget about the way he had so selfishly and cruelly told Snape how to get past the Whomping Willow. Shame and guilt were emotions he was more than familiar with, despite his resolution to never show such a weakness to others.
Knowing something so intimate about a girl he saw every day living her life in such ignorance was enough to eat at him. He had tried, for the better part of their first and second year, to completely ignore her and then to stop thinking about what he knew once he found out. It was easy enough to pretend they weren't betrothed those first two months at Hogwarts together when all he had known about her was that one day theoretically they'd be married but it would never actually happen.
The first time he had seen her, standing stoically on the platform with her family, he had turned tail and fled in the other direction to get on the train before he had to actually speak to her, the ramifications of being disrespectful to the Luciens a problem for another day. He would never actually marry the girl, he'd told himself in that moment and for the first half of that year, there was simply no way. He and Messalina had both been sorted into Gryffindor to the shock and anger of their families, and both had seemed to be on the same page by quickly befriending individuals their families absolutely would not approve of.
Sirius had gravitated towards the bloodtraitor James Potter and the halfbloods Remus and Peter, the foursome causing such chaos that letters were sent home to Grimmauld Place at least once a week regaling his parents of the imperfect heir's adventures with the dregs of wizarding society. To remind them of how unlike perfect Regulus he was, and how unafraid he was of disappointing them.
Messalina had followed, attaching herself at the hip to the Prewett twins, who were not only bloodtraitors but penniless, and the mudblood Lily Evans. These friendships could never allow their families to go through the betrothal and have them marry one another - they would be corrupting influences and bring both families down on their knees.
To avoid such a fall from grace, the Luciens and the Blacks would mutually break the betrothal that had been drawn up in that stuffy lawyer's office in London on that surprisingly cool June day, and Sirius would be paired off with the likes of Emmeline Bulstrode to whip him into shape. Messalina would probably end up with Evan Rosier or someone of a similarly dark nature and she would scarcely be seen in public after the marriage except when she whelped an heir and a spare.
But Sirius and Messalina together, married? That would never happen, so why tell her? What good with that do other than make things even more awkward between them than it already was? He didn't even know how to start that conversation, so he ignored the way the guilt gnawed at him at night and shoved his feelings down.
And he had been so relieved that October of first year when she was flat-out disowned from the Lucien family - he'd had to hold down a grin when he'd heard. He knew it was probably wrong to feel so joyful when her life had so dramatically changed for something that seemed to little, but he could scarcely keep his smile at bay that day knowing those restless nights were for naught and he had no reason to feel like he needed to confess the secret to her. The feeling had been relatively short-lived, though, for when he went home for Christmas, smug with the knowledge he was a free man, he learned exactly why the betrothal had been broken off.
It wasn't because she was running around with the likes of the Prewetts and Lily, though that association certainly didn't help matters. It was because she would never be able to bear the likes of Evan Rosier an heir. Judging by the way his parents had discussed her malady, the Luciens had chosen to not tell their daughter about the test results and instead made it seem as though it was all her fault. And as he had spent the last several months completely ignoring her when possible, how could he even imagine telling her the true reason behind her disownment? They were just eleven after all.
He'd thought about telling her over the years, but had he ever seriously considered actually saying something to her about it? Actually walking up to a girl he knew disliked - and might even hate - him and saying 'hey, so we were engaged when we were 11, sorry for not telling you that by the way. Oh and you'll never have kids so your family decided you were useless to them and it was easier to say goodbye than to actually tell you that. Alright, well good talking to you, bye!' Now that was out of the question, so beyond ridiculous that it was laughable. She'd get married sometime after graduation, maybe even to Remus judging by the way things were going, and then would find out that she couldn't have kids. She'd never need to know Sirius had known all along.
But that wasn't reality anymore. She knew. And she knew he knew. For wizarding betrothals are complicated - both in the drawing up and breaking off. Unsurprisingly, pureblood society favors men and seemingly always would. It's the tradition of it, and if there's one thing purebloods love, it's keeping everything the same as it's always been. And so, the male party of a betrothal must be aware and consent to the arrangement.
The girl? Well she can be kept in the dark for years - the document doesn't require her approval. Her parents, specifically her father, know what's best for her. It's the same in the breaking of the contract - Sirius had to go back to that lawyer's office in London and say 'yes, I agree to break it off', even if it was more of a formality than anything else considering Messalina wasn't actually a Lucien in any capacity anymore other than in her last name. He remembered the shame on Licorous Lucien's face when the contract was ripped to shreds by the lawyer, a rare show of emotion for the man, and Sirius had never seen Licorous or Yelena in Grimmauld Place again.
And as a once proper pureblood that could recite the Sacred Twenty-Eight's family trees for nearly two centuries (her parents had used this as an indicator that she could temper even young Sirius' wilder, more eccentric views on pureblood society and raise their children properly), Messalina knew all about betrothals. She would know that for such an agreement to exist, he would have to have consented to the drawing up and cancelling of it. And he would have known why it was severed.
So, she had been right when she had whispered to him that he had known all along and said nothing. Because he had. And he had never intended on her actually finding out anything about it. She'd get married, wonder why she couldn't have kids, they'd run another test, and that would be that. How would she find out if not for that? She wasn't a Lucien anymore, and it seemed that no one would dare speak to her even if it was a taunt about her classmate knowing all along. He hadn't thought about her existing medical records. Fuck.
And now his closest friends would know that there was some kind of secret he was harboring that was harmful enough for Messalina to physically launch herself from her sickbed and say she hated him. He wondered fleetingly what everyone in the Hospital Wing thought she hated him for. Murder? Secret Death Eater? What other kind of betrayals were there? He sighed deeply at the thought, staring out at the grounds as though the peace and tranquility of the view would clear the thoughts from his head.
He hadn't even realized he was making for the Astronomy Tower until he was there at the top of the stairs, wondering if there was any way his friends would be able to find him without the Map before they would head to the Shrieking Shack for Remus' transformation. Sundown was only an hour away and Madam Pomfrey would be taking Remus to the Whomping Willow as soon as she got Messalina squared away and all the other students were at dinner or otherwise preoccupied.
There was certainly not a chance in the world that he would be meeting them at the entrance to the Whomping Willow that night - his legs could scarcely support him anymore even if he tried. He was leaning heavily against the windowpane, his feverish face pressed against the cool glass of the window. His breath was ragged and it fogged up his view of the grounds, and he swiped at the moisture with the sleeve of his robes frantically - anything to keep him from being alone with the thoughts racing through his head.
He caught a glimpse of himself in the window's reflection then, his eyes judgmental and harsh. He had taken the easy way out all these years by not saying anything, and it had all come back to haunt him. For someone who considered himself to be pretty damn clever, he should've been able to grasp the fact that secrets never stayed secrets forever.
Pain. Every part of his body ached, and as Remus stared up at the all too familiar ceiling of the Shrieking Shack, chest heaving from the mere task of laying prone on the cold wood floor, he felt even weaker than he usually did after a full moon. There were half a dozen deep gashes on his calf from scratching at himself in frustration that stung deeply. Had it not been for seeing James crouched over him muttering healing spells, Remus might have been seriously concerned that Madam Pomfrey was about to find him stark naked and bleeding out in the Shrieking Shack.
He might have been seeing her for several days a month for nearly seven years, but something about the idea of the woman seeing everything was enough to jolt his attempts to clear his mind and focus on being Remus Lupin, seventh year Hogwarts student, again. The full moon was over and as he laid there panting, he could feel the urges draining away until they disappeared from his mind altogether.
For a few sweet, dazed moments he couldn't recall exactly why he felt as though someone had run his physical and emotional wellbeing over with a truck. But he didn't have to wait long as his brain completed its own transformation back to thoughts that revolved around something other than finding any nearby humans to rip and tear into them, and the events of the last few days crashed into the forefront of his mind and he groaned. James stopped mid-healing spell to look at Remus with wide-eyed concern, but with his remaining strength Remus gave him a shaky thumbs up to indicate to for James to keep going, at least far enough along so that Remus could pull on his boxers before Madam Pomfrey burst in. Laying his head back against the floorboards, Remus stopped resisting and let the memories of the last few days wash over him.
Messalina knew about his furry little problem. And despite his knowing she would reject him, she hadn't. She'd accepted him for what and who he was, and the intense look in her eyes as she'd knelt beside his armchair in the Come and Go Room as she'd vowed she could never think less of him was enough to bring a ghost of smile to his face. That revelation had filled him with what felt like half a hundred butterflies and they'd been having some sort of great migration between his chest and his stomach for the better part of the last few weeks. But the butterflies had turned to ash only a few days ago.
Messalina had collapsed in DADA and the crunch of her nose breaking upon impact with the heavy wooden desk had haunted him since. And so had Graham Pucey being the one to escort her to the Hospital Wing as he stood by, paralyzed by a fear that seemed to rear its head out of nowhere. He couldn't forget the fear and stress of pacing in the corridor outside of the Wing, waiting for any kind of news or the dread that gripped his heart when Madam Pomfrey refused to give any kind of details about her status.
Then there had been days of worrying following by restless nights despite his eyelids drooping and his body screaming for him to give it some kind of rest prior to the full moon. But how could he sleep peacefully in his bed at the top of Gryffindor tower when he hadn't a clue what was going on with Messalina? Was she laying in agony under Madam Pomfrey's watchful eye or was she dreaming of some far off world where she and someone like Graham Pucey could be together? Was she noticing just how surprisingly comfortable the mattresses were in the Hospital Wing were, or wondering how Madam Pomfrey got the house elves to clean the sheets until they were crisp and almost scratchy against your bare skin? Could there be a world where she might be thinking about him too?
It was that harried, exhausted state of mind that made going into his transformation difficult. His mother had always emphasized the need for him to get plenty of sleep, eat healthy, and focus on the positives. But with Messalina in the Hospital Wing, he had been unable to do any of those things - his mother's wisdom felt as foreign to him as the idea that something else could happen to make him even more confused and stressed than he had been all day.
But something else had happened the day of his transformation. He didn't understand the confrontation between Messalina and Sirius, but it did not help him to put his fears and concerns aside as he had needed to before the full moon. If anything, seeing Messalina had shocked him to his core - particularly when he noticed she was crying as her adoptive father wrestled her back into the hospital bed. Her normally shiny blonde hair hung lank and dull around her shoulders, her eyes sunken and glassy. Her lips and teeth stained with her own blood as though her body was trying to destroy her from the inside out.
But it was the look of defeated defensiveness about her that truly shocked Remus and had Madam Pomfrey not been helping hold him up, he surely would have crashed to the ground as though trying to reenact Messalina's fall. He had thought at first that the scrofungulus bout or perhaps its related potions had been enough to make her usually calm demeanor shift so dramatically, but then she had locked eyes with Sirius and her eyes had lit up with emotion.
For a split second, his heart stopped as he wondered if Sirius was enough to break her from her state and that perhaps their years of harsh bickering was actually like or, Merlin forbid, love. But then she had opened her mouth and those thoughts were ripped from his mind. Tears racing down her cheeks, she'd accused Sirius of knowing something, of keeping something from her all those years. And instead of defending himself or explaining, Sirius had fled from the Wing as though Messalina was after him, leaving plenty of room for speculation and rumor. What could Sirius have done to make her react like that? She certainly didn't like Sirius, that much was a known fact, but to say she hated him? What secret -
"Moony, you alright?" A voice asked from somewhere to the left side of him, breaking him from his spiraling thoughts and recollections. Remus jerked his head up to see who was talking to him, wincing as the tendons in his neck screamed in pain and he dropped his head back onto the floor. It seemed James had been able to get his leg mostly put back together in the time since Remus had begun piecing together the events of the last few days, and he and Peter had gotten mostly redressed. They were staring at him in concern as they yanked their shoes on, Peter looking almost afraid.
"He didn't show up," Remus muttered as he searched the Shrieking Shack's bedroom for his own clothes, groaning when he realized just how far they were. As though reading his mind, James crossed the room, snatching up Remus' clothes and bringing them over to him. As always, James did it in such a carefree manner that any bystander would've thought he was driven by a sudden impulse to just move some clothes around, not in a pitying manner for an injured friend. It was something Remus truly loved James for - his ability to never make Remus feel a burden or anything less than. Not many seventeen year olds were capable of such an action - hell, not even most grown men could muster that kind of caring.
Usually, Remus was well enough after transforming to stagger around the little bedroom shortly after the sun came back up, but movement felt impossible. He was able to pull himself into a sitting position against the wall with a groan, grimacing as his tender back made contact with the harsh, peeling wallpaper. James placed the clothes beside Remus, putting a warm hand on Remus' shoulder and giving him a serious look that seemed to have no place in the house they usually ran around in and tried to have some semblance of fun in. For all its dreariness, the Marauders tried to make the Shrieking Shack a place of light humor and James was violating that.
"No, he didn't." Sirius had been to every instance of Remus' furry little problem during the school year since they had finally mastered the spells necessary to become animagi. Well, every time except two now: last night and the month after Sirius had told Snape how to get into the tunnel under the Whomping Willow. The idea that whatever had happened with Messalina was even remotely on the same level as his betrayal of Remus' trust the previous year was enough to spur Remus to action and he started tugging his clothes on with energy he hadn't known he had. He needed to find Sirius and force him to explain whether he wanted to or not.
"We should get out of here, Prongs," Peter called from his spot near the window of the Shack, his voice tight with worry. The window had the clearest view of the Hogwarts grounds and judging by the tone of Peter's voice, he must've seen Madam Pomfrey bustling towards them in the distance. Not knowing about the other Marauders being there for him to distract him from biting and scratching himself, Madam Pomfrey made it her mission to be there for him as soon as she could safely do so after the full moon, though Remus had asked her for a bit more time to get dressed while he was still alone to give the others a chance to get away unseen once they were joining him on his monthly endeavors. The extra privacy was usually enough for Remus to be more than dressed by the time she arrived, but his delay in returning to his mind was long enough that James and Peter were far from long gone under the invisibility cloak.
James waved off Peter's concern with the flick of his hand, still staring down at Remus as though thinking if he looked hard enough at him he would be able to read Remus' mind. "We've got the cloak, Wormtail, relax. Let's make sure Moony's alright before we cover our own hides."
"Go, James. I'm fine. I think we're all just tired," Remus assured him, though he noted the 'I told you so' look on James' face when Remus winced and groaned as he tried to pull his shirt over his head.
"James, I'll be fine. I've got my underwear on at least, Poppy won't be getting too much of a show. I'm just tired," Remus tried to assure him, noting the prominent 'I told you so' look on James' face when Remus winced and groaned while pulling his shirt on.
"Remus -"
"It's fine, you guys should go before she gets here. Don't worry about me."
"I'll beat the truth out of him when I get my hands on him," James vowed solemnly, finally seeming to grasp that they ought to head to the tunnel before Madam Pomfrey made it past the Whomping Willow. They might have the cloak, but it never hurt to be spotted in the castle around this time in case anyone ever got any ideas. "I swear, Moony."
"Just go get some rest, Prongs. We'll figure it out when we're not about to pass out."If the others were a tenth of how exhausted he was, Remus wasn't sure how they were standing so casually in front of him. The idea of standing was enough to make each muscle and bone in his legs scream out in agony.
"We'll be by to see you this afternoon if Poppy lets us in," Peter reminded him from the doorway, clearly anxious to get out of there. James seemed less in a rush as he fixed Remus with one last searching look before following Peter out into the hallway and out the front door. He could hear them muttering to each other about who needed to move over so the cloak fit over both of them snugly and the idea was enough to bring a small smile to his face. It was impossible to imagine there was once a time all four Marauders could fit under there without hunching over and getting a back and neck ache from the awkward way of trying to stand under there with someone else.
Once he finished tugging his shoes on, shoving the laces into the inside of shoe when it was evident there wasn't a chance in hell his fingers had enough dexterity to manage even tying them in a knot, he took a deep breath and leaned back into the floor. He could hear Madam Pomfrey coming, the all too familiar sound of her kitten heels on the old floorboards, and managed a weak smile at her as she entered the bedroom.
"Remus, dear, are you well enough to stand?" She hid her surprise at his state quiet well, but Remus knew her well enough to note the way her mouth pursed and her eyebrows furrowed slightly, a determined look settling into her eyes as she took in his appearance.
"I might need a bit of help, Madam Pomfrey," he admitted, a pang of self-pity shooting through him as the woman nodded at him sympathetically. Remus rarely needed her help to walk back to the castle and it had certainly been years since he had last asked her to help him stand. He felt like a child again, laying on the floor of the Lupins' cellar waiting for his mother to open the door to come get him once the sun had risen over the horizon. Hope had always tried to stay strong for him, but nearly always broke down the second she closed the door to his room once she got him situated in bed. Her keening cries would always reach his overly sensitive ears no matter how much she tried to muffle the sounds into a pillow, and the sound was enough to keep him awake for hours, guilt eating him alive.
"Of course, dear, come along." They made an awkward pair on their walk back to the castle through the early morning mists, Remus all too cognizant of the fact that he'd grown a solid two feet taller since the last time she'd assisted him in such a manner. He took full advantage of the way the mist felt on his skin and the way the dew on the grass dampened the hem of his trousers. The physical sensations had a calming effect on him and cooled his overheated skin, and by the time they made it to the side entrance to the castle, he felt like himself once again. A seventh year Hogwarts student worried about his classes, his future, his friends (a specific girl he had a feeling he might be seeing at some point during his own stint in the Hospital Wing). Just a young man with hopes and dreams, maybe different than other boys but not a bloodthirsty monster seeking out human flesh to tear its teeth into. That wasn't him anymore, at least not for another month.
"Miss Lucien has asked to see you," Madam Pomfrey stated as they neared the doors to the Wing, not even bothering to keep her voice at a whisper. She said it as though remarking on how she preferred one brand of quill to another and if she noticed the way Remus jerked his head towards her in surprise before wincing at the way the muscles in his neck protested, she made no indication. That was another thing he liked about the woman - she seemed to care very little about whatever strange affairs he and the other Marauders were up to. She was a no questions asked kind of lady, and Remus knew the others admired her greatly and he was glad to see her level of cool indifference applies to certain young ladies as well. "I told her you could see her this afternoon if you were okay with that and feeling alright again."
"I could see her right now, I'm not that tired, Madame Pomfrey," Remus insisted, but the woman fixed him a disbelieving look and rolled her eyes.
"You look as though you would collapse if I was not holding you upright - I don't care for how exhausted you look right now," she replied bluntly, looking him up and down. "Even if you looked right as rain, though, I wouldn't allow it until you've had time to rest. If you look better this afternoon, perhaps I'll allow her to see you. But don't get your hopes up."
While his hopes were up that he would be able to see her that afternoon, Madam Pomfrey was correct in that he needed his sleep. The Hospital Wing was still only dimly lit by the rising sun when they entered and Remus saw no movement from behind the few canvas dividers he knew Messalina was laying behind. It was still early, and like him, Madam Pomfrey had probably threatened the girl with death if she didn't get enough sleep after the memorable and chaotic events of the day before. Still, he felt a pang of disappointment that she wasn't eagerly awaiting his entrance or any other indication that she was as desperate to see him as he felt about her.
He didn't long for pity before he was being pulled past her bed towards the back corner of the wing where there was the most privacy. Madam Pomfrey eased him into his usual bed behind his own set of crisp canvas dividers, muttering under her breath about how she would be running out of privacy screens by the end of the week if students kept showing up in her Hospital Wing battered and in serious need of help. She was just one woman after all and she could only do so many things at once. It was to her murmurings about being understaffed and student recklessness that Remus fell asleep hard and fast. He had just closed his eyes to blink but the motion was enough for his already dropping eyelids to demand a respite from work and after pausing for a second to note the way the sunlight felt warm on his face, Remus was out like a light.
He came to some time later, opening his eyes to see the sun had moved so high in the sky he couldn't even see it anymore. The misty dawn he had trudged through had cleared to a crisp November day, the kind that Remus was certain would still feel a bit warm if he wore his thickest jumper and his wool socks. The Hospital Wing was silent except for the ticking of the clock in Madam Pomfrey's office and the almost hypnotic sound was enough to have his eyes slipping closed once again of their own accord. He felt far better than he had that morning and he marveled at the way only a few hours of sleep were enough to make the events of the night before seem far away. Madam Pomfrey's healing certainly didn't hurt either - his muscles felt loose and he was certain if he tried to stand he would be able to without any assistance. He wondered if Messalina felt such peace and well-being after sleeping behind her own canvas dividers for so long - Madam Pomfrey had said the other day that the girl was doing almost nothing but sleeping these days.
And speaking of Messalina - she had wanted to visit him. He had been on the precipice of sleep seconds before that realization hit him, and he jerked at the sudden awareness of his surroundings. He forced his eyes open despite their willingness to take another nap, willing himself to at least appear well-rested and prepared for visitors. Madam Pomfrey had said Messalina could only visit once he didn't need to sleep and he felt better, and surely if he was awake on his own, then he didn't need to sleep anymore -
"Remus?" A small hoarse voice was enough to pull him from his frantic attempt to prove he was awake, and he turned to look at the intruder that he had somehow missed. He had known it was Messalina from her voice (something told him he would still recognize her voice even if she whispering from half a mile away) and yet seeing her so close was enough to startle him once more.
He had just been wondering if she felt well-rested and better under Madame Pomfrey's care and plenty of sleep, and it seemed he didn't need to speculate on it anymore. Her appearance was almost night and day compared to how she had looked yesterday during her murder attempt. The defeated, sunken look had been replaced by a cautiously hopeful appearance and she must have been well enough to stand to shower as her hair was still damp and her skin looked bright and clean. She looked tired still, and not to quote Madam Pomfrey but Remus didn't care for how bloodshot her eyes were or how dark the circles under them were, but she was feeling well enough to give him a small smile and that was enough proof for him that she was feeling better.
He eased back into the bed unconsciously at the sight of her, the tension seeming to ease out of his body at the sight of her curled up on the chair looking so normal. Almost as though nothing from the previous few days had happened - no collapse, no scofungulus, no Sirius - just a long week of studying and not enough sleep. The idea was so heartwarming that Remus could only stare at her with what he was certain was a dopey grin on his face and judging by the small laugh she gave him, he was right. The sound was music to his ears and without thinking, he reached out for her with a shaking hand. She took it with a smile of her own and Remus marveled at the way her hand seemed to fit in his just right. Like it was made to be intertwined with his.
"What happened?" His question came out surprisingly normal and even-toned considering his mind was screaming a hundred different questions at him to ask her, and he stroked his thumb across her fingers gently as she stared down at their hands pensively.
"I'll tell you when you wake up," she replied after a few long moments, looking up at him with a strength that had been missing the day before. "Madam Pomfrey said you should sleep until almost dinner - it's barely lunchtime. And it's a long story - you won't want to hear it after only a few hours of sleep."
"You'll be here when I wake up?"
"I don't think Madam Pomfrey could kick me out even if she tried," she assured him. "I promise."
The promise from her was enough to have his eyes sliding closed once again and he focused on nothing but the feeling of her hand in his as he fell back asleep. And he might've been dreaming by this point, but he could've sworn he felt her lips press against the top of his hand as he drifted off.
