Chapter 7
December 1981
Remus was sick of crying.
He'd endured some pretty horrific things in his relatively short time so far on earth, but this was a whole new level of hell.
He had tried for weeks to visit Sirius, send him a letter or package, and get him out of the soul-sucking pit that was Azkaban. Every attempt had brought excuses from the guards, ranging from "Prisoners serving a life sentence are kept in total isolation - no exceptions" to "Your kind is not welcome here."
Remus didn't know what to make of that. What did they mean, "his kind"? Werewolf? Halfblood? Gryffindor? Ridiculously poor person? The only person not destroyed in a situation of friend-turned-foe?
Who was he kidding? He was absolutely destroyed. He had never cried so much in his life. James and Lily, the two most meant-to-be people he'd ever met, were gone forever, leaving their son, who would likely never remember them, to grow up Merlin knows where… He'd had words with Dumbledore often on the subject, but the crazy old man had seemed so certain that Sirius was the villain in the situation and that sending Harry far away from the last two people in the world who loved him was somehow for the best.
Sirius was in Azkaban, not even allowed the common decency of a trial, treated like a monster Remus knew the Animagus was incapable of being.
Peter was dead...or so the Ministry said. Maybe he was. But Remus' gut told him that the story the Aurors told was far from the truth. Perhaps Sirius had killed Peter (and a street full of Muggles in the crossfire), but Remus fully believed his best mate would never do so without a damn good reason.
More likely, Peter had gone and acted like the rat he was. Remus and Sirius had both noticed the distinct smell of fear on their friend as the war escalated. Wormtail had stopped coming around as often, claiming that his mother's health had taken a turn for the worse and taking protection in their old family home. They'd chalked up his fear to his usual cowardice in the face of danger since they were all scared in the midst of war and losing the people they cared about most.
But now Remus wasn't so sure.
He would have trusted James and Sirius with his life, but he never got to that level of confidence in Peter's reliability. Wormtail had been the little tag along in school, gravitating to the other three Marauders like a moth to flame, and he had kind of become their best friend simply out of necessity and proximity. They'd had fun during their years at Hogwarts, playing pranks, making fun of James' obsession with Lily, and generally just trying to have as much of a good time as they could in an ancient, magical castle with a head of house as strict as McGonagall.
Remus rolled over in bed, feeling the pressure of the mattress and rasp of his sheets against his bony frame. He had always been skinny, but his body now looked emaciated. He drank enough water to keep the tears coming and ate enough to survive, but he wasn't quite sure why he bothered.
Well, that wasn't entirely true.
He wanted to live for exactly three people: Sirius, Harry, and Hermione.
His life had been reduced to caring about less than a handful of people, and he was banned from seeing any of them. Banned from seeing Sirius by the prison guards, from seeing Harry by Dumbledore and whatever caretakers he had seen fit to land Harry with, and from seeing Hermione simply because her parents had no idea who he was, and they would not welcome a visit from the girl's biological father, the reason she was magical and had been turned into a werewolf before she could even speak properly.
Sirius had been smiling broadly when Remus had left the pack again to see how the Animagus' visit with the Grangers had gone. Apparently, the man was rather smitten with the tiny witch, and he happily relayed their encounter and the full moon he'd spent with her at her family's cabin in the woods.
"It was just like old times, Moony," he'd happily sighed. "Well, sort of. She was much smaller, and of course, I missed you and Prongs and Wormtail, but it was fun to feel young again and play the full moon away." His expression had tightened into a teasing grimace as he added, "She didn't bite me all night like you did when you were getting used to having friends for your transformations, though."
Remus had punched his shoulder at that and replied, "Moony must have taught you to stop being a git so the little wolf didn't have to deal with perky Padfoot. Now you're just an old dog playing babysitter to a tiny pup."
Ignoring the jibe, Sirius corrected, "Mini-Moony. Her name is Mini-Moony now. She's part of the pack."
The werewolf sat and stared at his friend, slack-jawed and filled with such a large amount of warmth and affection for his best mate, and the tiny daughter he barely knew, that it threatened to spill over in the form of happy, grateful tears.
More tears came at the memory, and Remus threw himself from his bed and into the shower. When he stood in front of the mirror with an obnoxiously fluffy towel (from a set Sirius had bought when they got the flat together) wrapped around his bony hips, he just stared at his reflection for a long moment.
Bloodshot, green eyes and a blotchy face stared back at him. He couldn't remember the last time he looked so miserable, and, with his history, that was saying a lot.
Turning back to his bedroom, he dragged on trousers and a jumper before heading to the kitchen to make some tea and eat his weight in chocolate.
As he sat at the two-bit kitchen table, staring out at the empty living room, he whispered, "Happy Christmas," before burying his face in his hands and losing himself to the tears again.
XxxX
Life over the next nine years dragged for Remus as much as they flew for Hermione. When he was finally able to drag himself out of his flat, he couldn't bear the looks of pity old friends and even acquaintances from Hogwarts sent his way, knowing that he was the last man standing from the infamous foursome that had caused so much trouble together during their years at school. He was able to garner enough sympathy and pity to be hired for the occasional odd job in the wizarding community. Between those jobs and temp work in the Muggle world, he was somehow able to make ends meet.
When he was finally evicted from the flat he'd shared with Sirius, he returned to his childhood home. It was filled with such an uncomfortable mix of warm and devastating memories that he had hoped to never go back. His mother and father had both passed away during his time at Hogwarts, Lyall from what appeared to be a simple heart attack and Hope from a broken heart soon after. He'd gone home for their funerals and to set his home to rights as much as he could, but he hadn't found any good reasons to go back until he'd shown up to his apartment one day to find it warded against him.
Stupid magical landlords, he'd thought to himself, rubbing his shocked hand against his thigh to ease the stinging.
Living at Lupin Cottage again wasn't so bad, though. It was lonely, but it was still much better than life with Greyback's pack had been.
He tried not to hate Dumbledore for sending him out there to waste away his friends' last months of life and freedom. Maybe if anything had come of his "spying" things would be different. Instead, a baby had defeated the Dark Lord, and Remus was so very alone. Dumbledore was the only person in the world who seemed to still care about him, aside from McGonagall and maybe a few werewolves who hadn't been part of his life since he'd left the pack.
And Sirius. But Remus tried not to think of his best friend after the Ministry sent him a cease and desist letter and Dumbledore kindly told him to move on for the hundredth time.
His time alone, combined with his lycanthropy and depression, aged him prematurely. He let the lone mirror in the cottage washroom grow misty with dust and time. His miserable reflection was not necessary; he knew exactly how exhausted, scarred, and old he looked.
When he was alone in the dark of his living room with a fire burning low and an entire bottle of firewhiskey in his stomach, he would let himself laugh about it. His life had peaked in happiness before he'd even had two decades under his belt.
Well, he figured, at least things can't get worse.
A/N: My readers are the best. Seriously. I have received so many amazing reviews (over 200 now!) and PMs about this story, and I just want to say a big thank you! I couldn't do it without you guys. :) Thank you, also, to Synoir, my fantastic beta. Updates wouldn't come nearly as often without her help, and they'd have lots more mistakes. ;)