A/N: Alright, so this was beyond fun to write. I always get so caught up in my work when I write things like this. Which is sort of sad, seeing as this is far from a happy story. Hopefully, you will all enjoy reading it as much as I ejoyed writing it!
"Alright. That's it!" James frowned, snapping shut the Potions book that he'd been reading. At least, he was supposed to be reading it. Really the last few hours had been spent flipping the pages and planning out what he was going to do the next day; the first Saturday out of the school year.
The other three boys weren't fazed by his outburst.
Sirius had abandoned his textbook a while ago, in favor of sprawling out on one of the couches and rooting through a container of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. He glanced up from the pile of Booger flavored beans he was holding, the only flavor he didn't eat, and raised an eyebrow at the Potter child.
Peter, who was still furiously scribbling on a piece of parchment, didn't even look up. His beady eyes stayed focused on the paper, which was spattered with ink and getting more rumpled the longer he worked on the essay.
In fact, Remus was the only one that looked even the slightest bit annoyed. "What's 'it', James?"
"This!" James dropped the Potions book onto the floor and stood up from the easy chair that he'd taken possession of when the four first came into the Common Room. "I'm done studying. We've been at it for hours! I say we all just go to bed. It's not like this is due any time soon."
Remus frowned but didn't say anything. They had all been working for a while. Or, he and Peter had been working for a while. And even James and Sirius had gotten quite a bit of work down that night. More than he'd originally thought they would. Besides, Sirius was already dropping the Booger flavored beans back into the blue box he'd pulled them out of and getting up as well.
And when they were both ready for bed, there was no use even trying to argue with them. Remus had tried it enough to know that the two boys would just pass out on whatever piece of furniture they were sprawled on. And he didn't feel like getting grouched at for waking them up later that night to usher them up to bed.
"Alright." The tawny haired man gave a slow nod and closed his own book. Unlike his companions though, all of which were busy shoving their books underneath of the couch Sirius had been sitting on, he stacked his writing supplies on top of it and sat it on the floor by his feet so he could put it back in his trunk later. "Are you all really going to bed, though?"
"Yes." Peter gave a quick nod and turned for the stairs. The smaller boy didn't wait around for the other three, scampering up them before James even finished jamming his pile of books under the sofa.
James raised an eyebrow at Remus. "Aren't you gonna come up too? Cause you look like you could use some sleep."
"He means," Sirius butted in, despite the annoyed look James gave him. "that you look like shit."
"I do not!" Remus snapped, face twisting into a frown. Unfolding himself from the chair, he scooped up his stack of supplies. "I look fine."
And it was said with such finality, especially for the usually demure boy, that neither of his friends argued with him even though it was a blatant lie.
~X~
Remus did, in fact, end up going up to the dorm room with the other boys. Peter was already sprawled out in his bed, fast asleep, and both James and Sirius joined him in moments. Like always, the moment their heads hit the pillow they were out like a light.
Remus didn't have that luxury.
During the last few months of summer, he'd been having an increasingly difficult time getting to sleep. Even on the days where he felt just absolutely exhausted, and those days were happening more and more often, it took hours for him to fall asleep. Hours spent doing nothing but staring at up at the underside of the canopy roof and trying to will his mind away from the unpleasant turns it was taking.
Was it something to do with his Lycanthropy?
Would it affect his Lycanthropy?
Could it be dangerous?
Was he just not sleeping because he was stressed out over the exams that would take place later that year?
He hoped it was just stress that kept him awake. Forced himself to believe that it was just stress. Sixth Year was hard to deal with, after all. There was a lot to feel pressured over. Exams and plans for the next few years and goals for after this school year ended; not to mention that Remus was always stressed, even on the calmest of days.
"That's it." He muttered. Wrapping his arms around one of the many red pillows strewn across his bed, Remus tugged it to his chest and buried his face in it. "It's just stress."
~X~
It was almost three weeks into the first term before anyone else mentioned Remus' waning appearance. He'd noticed it before he even came back to Hogwarts. Noticed how his usually pale complexion had turned almost sickly, how there were dark bruises forming beneath his eyes, how the weight just seemed to be falling off of him.
He refused to believe it was anything but stress.
Stress caused all of that. Remus knew that for a fact because, on one of his more restless nights, he'd spent hours looking through a book that he'd borrowed from the library. Lack of sleep, loss of weight, the heavy feeling of anxiety that seemed to be rooted to his chest. It was all just stress. It was harder to think that, though, when he had someone else pointing out his failing physique.
"Remus? Are you feeling okay?" Molly asked, leaning across the table so she could get a better look at the older boy.
Remus gave her an absent nod. "Of course I am. Why do you ask?"
"Because," The Weasley pursed her lips together, worry shining clear in her soft blue eyes. "breakfast is almost over and you've barely touched your food. You didn't eat much for dinner last night, either."
There was a long moment while Remus stared at his plate and the chunk of egg that he'd been pushing around it. Then he looked back up at Molly and gave her a tired smile. "I'm just not very hungry, Molly. Really."
~X~
"James." Remus let out a raspy gasp as he doubled over, bent at the hip and with a hand clutching either knee for support. "Wait." He was barely able to squeeze the two words out inbetween pants.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Slow breaths, his mind told him. And, for a moment, Remus tried. Eyes slipping close, he inhaled a single deep breath. And the cold, winter air felt like someone was slicing open his chest with a knife. Pain rippled through his body knocking what little air he had left in his lungs out and bringing a cough bubbling up and out of his throat.
After that first cough came a second one. And then a third and fourth and suddenly it was all that Remus could do to keep himself standing, he was coughing so hard. Dry, harsh hacks that made his chest ache and his throat burn.
The blond tried to take another breath, to call out to James again, to calm the tightening in his chest that was just squeezing tighter with every passing second. But he couldn't. He couldn't speak. He couldn't stop coughing. He couldn't breath.
The moment that the last thought flickered through Remus' mind, fear started seeping its way into him.
His lungs felt like they were on fire now. His chest felt like something was sitting on it. Then everything was going hazy and he still couldn't get himself to stop coughing and hacking and he didn't even know if James had heard him and stopped -
A warm hand pressed into his back, a second one grabbing onto one of his arms and lowering him onto the ground. Remus could feel the snow that was laying on the streets of Hogsmeade seeping into the legs of his pants, a sharp contrast to his overwhelmingly hot body; which was funny because he hadn't even realized how hot he was until right then. The hand on his back started rubbing circles and, faintly, he thought he could hear someone calling his name.
There were several more long seconds where all Remus could do was cough. It felt like an eternity before he was able to draw in a short, shaky breath. And then another and another and he was sure that, even though the hacks had stopped, he had begun hyperventilating now. The cold air still stung, burnt actually, but it was still air.
"Remus?" James asked again, and the fear in his voice almost scared Remus more than the fact that everything was still fuzzy.
Now though, it was due to the tears forming in the corner of his eyes.
~X~
"Are you okay now?" James sounded almost timid when he spoke.
Right away, Remus decided that it didn't fit him. James was supposed to be cocky. Proud. Full of himself and always sure that everything he did and said was true. Not worried that asking a simple question, something that was asked every full moon, would do...Something. Actually, Remus didn't know what James thought it would do. Maybe send him into another coughing fit?
The black haired boy very nearly had to carry Remus to The Hogs Head. Not because he was still coughing, thankfully, but because everything just seemed to ache. His chest, his sides, his throat, his arms and shoulders and back. Everything. And he still felt like he was choking, like there wasn't enough air getting into his lungs.
Remus had taken one step and very nearly fallen over.
James had panicked and half-drug, half-carried him into the nearest building.
They'd been sitting at a table in the back of the bar since then. James had gotten him a cup of water, which the blond had only sipped at once, and neither had said anything until then. Which was fine because, honestly, Remus wasn't sure that he'd be able to speak; so he nodded instead.
It was a lie but that didn't matter to him at the moment.
It must not have been a bad lie either because the simple motion sent a wave of relief crashing over his friends face. "You have no clue how much that freaked me out, Mooney. I looked back and you were just, I don't know, it looked like you were dieing!"
"Sorry." Remus voice was hoarse. Rough. But it didn't bring forth a cough so he figured it was fine. Offering James a small, crooked smile, he picked the glass of water up with slightly shaky hands and took another sip.
For the moment, both boys were content to keep quiet about the smear of red on both corners of Remus' mouth.
~X~
He was fine.
It was just stress.
Just stress and a cold.
That was it.
Fine.
~X~
Over the next three days, Remus found it harder and harder to catch his breath. Harder to get to sleep. Harder to eat. Everything was harder.
But it was just stress, he told himself, nothing else. It couldn't be anything else. It just couldn't be. It wasn't.
The other students had started to notice that something was wrong though. Somehow, that made it all worse. Molly was always pushing him to eat more and James and Sirius were shadowing his every move and even a few of the Slytherins, such as Lucius and Narcissa, had given him strange looks.
The day before yesterday, Severus had asked him if he was alright. And there was a disbelieving look on the half-blood's face when Remus told him he was fine. A look as though he knew that it was nothing more than a weak excuse for a lie. But nothing had been said, not even a snide remark, and for that the young werewolf was thankful.
Madame Pomfrey, however, felt no need to hold her tongue. From the moment that she'd met Remus outside of the Gryffindor Tower that earlier that night to now, as she was locking him inside of the Shrieking Shack.
"As soon as you're out of here tomorrow morning, dear, I want you up in the Hospital Wing. Do you understand that?" Pomfrey's face was set in a grim line as she wagged a finger at Remus. She had already made it perfectly clear that she was more than disappointed he hadn't come to see her sooner.
"Yes ma'am." Remus nodded, ignoring how rough his voice sounded, and gave her a shaky smile.
Madame Pomfrey's frown got a little harder as she closed the door. Clicked the latch. And left him in darkness for the entirety of the night.
~X~
Changing had hurt worse then usual.
Out. Need out. Out now.
It always hurt.
Pain. Need out. Hurt need out.
This time, it felt like his bones were being crushed.
Want out. Need air. Clean air. Stop pain.
And there were no flashes of what was going on that night.
Make stop. Run. Leave pain. Leave now.
All that Remus knew...
Run, out, run, leave. Hurt. No air. No breath.
Was pain.
~X~
Normally, when Remus 'woke up' from his monthly transformation, he was a little sore. Having bones and muscles relocated and regrown could do that to a guy. It was painful, but he could deal with it. He could even walk most of the time.
It wasn't normal for him to wake up in so much pain that even just trying to roll over sent his stomach rolling. Clenching. Upheaving; and it burned as his dinner from the night before came up, burned and left him gasping for air.
Air that he couldn't get in.
Remus tried to call for someone. For James or Sirius or Peter, all of whom would no doubt still be wandering the grounds. For Madame Pomfrey. For Hagrid. For anyone. But nothing came out but a raspy breath and a cough.
The cough turned into a hack and then into nothing more but wheezes. Everytime the air was forced from his lungs, the rest of his body would tremble and send bolts of pain shooting through him. Through every nerve and muscle. Leaving his stomach churning again and his chest a flame and then, mercifully, everything went black once again.
And maybe, just maybe, it wasn't stress.
~X~
When Remus woke up, it was to a room so white that it burnt his eyes. Or maybe his eyes had already been burning? The rest of his body was; a steady heat that surged through his body, not quite numbness, not quite pain.
It scared him.
Not because of the pain. Not because of the needles shoved into his arms. Not because he could hear the steady humming and beeping of machinery. But because he recognized the room for what it was. What he'd never wanted to be in again, never again, and why he had been so determined to believe that everything that was wrong with him was simply stress.
It was a hospital room. From the acrid odor of potions being brewed and the almost tangy scent of sickness, it was a room in St. Mungoes. The hospital of the Wizarding World and the place the he had lived up until he was eleven, when Dumbledore swooped in and saved him from a life of tests and pain.
Only something told him that Dumbledore wouldn't be swooping in to rescue him again.
~X~
"Cancer." The word tasted strange on Remus' tongue, sounded even stranger in his hoarse and breathless voice. "I have...I have cancer."
It was the first time, in nearly three months, that Remus had actually said the words. Somehow, voicing it aloud and not just whispered in his mind seemed to cement it in reality. Of course, that feeling might have been because of the look of not-so-muted horror spreading across the faces of his friends.
James, who was most likely the only one that had any sort of an idea what cancer was, looked like he was going to be sick. An uncle of his had died several years ago from the disease, though Uncle Gert had been the victim of cancerous growth on his liver, not from his lungs virtually crumbling inside of him.
Peter, who kept glancing around the room nervously, as though he expected something to leap out at him, spared him a questioning look. Then there was a soft ruffling coming from the closed curtains around the bed a few feet over and he was back to the glancing. Remus didn't blame him; nights in the hospital were something that he loathed with every fiber of his very being.
It was Sirius that broke the heavy silence settled over the room. "You've got what?"
"I have-" Remus paused to draw in a shakey breath. He didn't want to have to stop once he started telling them what was going on. He knew that he wouldn't ever be able to finish telling them if he did. It all had to come out at once. "I have cancer. Lung cancer."
There was no recognition on the Black child's face.
And so he said it. The words that he'd hoped he'd never have to say, because when they weren't voiced he could almost convince himself that it wasn't true. That, in a few more weeks, he'd be back to school. That it really had just been stress.
"I'm dieing, Padfoot."
~X~
Over the course of the next five weeks, the other three Marauders came to visit as often as the teachers at Hogwarts would allow. Usually it was every Saturday. Sometimes Friday nights there would be a brief appearance of James and, occasionally, Sirius would swing by on Sunday. But every Saturday, without fail, all three of them would show up in his hospital room.
Remus didn't actually talk much. Not because he had nothing to say, but because he was quickly becoming unable to. Even brief sentences took to much breath and left him with too raw of a throat.
Sirius and James more than made up for it. Once they entered the room, Peter taking a chair by Remus' head and James and Sirius plopping down on either side of the foot of the bed, there was no end to the chatter. It was always simple things though. Like what sort of exams were going on and who had begun dating who and what hex they had cast on Severus; something that, without Remus there to try and keep the peace, was becoming more and more often. James would retell the Quidditch matches and Sirius would go on and on about the pranks and Peter would throw his two cents in every couple of sentences.
They never mentioned the fact that Dumbledore had announced his hospitalization to the entire school at dinner, two weeks after he was admitted.
They stayed away from the topic of how badly they were all fairing without Remus, the only level headed one of the group, around.
And, most importantly, they never said a word about how awful he looked. How, every time they came to see him, his face had sunken in a little more. Never spoke about the way that he seemed to have lost almost all of his body weight, with his arms looking like little more than twigs now. Didn't ask why his eyes took on such a dull, listless look every time a nurse came in with a potion to keep away the pain.
In return, more because he couldn't than because he didn't want to, Remus didn't mention that they weren't his only visitors.
Several of the staff from Hogwarts had come by with cards, all of which were now hanging on the wall above his bed. A potted plant, large and covered in thorns, had been sent to him from the Black Sisters. In the drawer of the table next to his bed sat a book that Molly had brought in for him, though his eyes had weakened too much to read any more of it.
Once, Lily had even stopped by. She hadn't brought him anything but a sad smile and a tear-streaked face. And Severus, though the other boy had stood by the door the entire time Lily spoke to him.
Most importantly, Remus didn't tell them that the only reason he'd contracted the disease was because of his Lycanthropy. It was the animal DNA coursing through his body that had contracted the illness, or so the Medi-Witch in charge of his medicine had explained one night. If he didn't have his 'special condition', as she worded it, then there would have been less of a chance that he could have gotten it.
After all, he'd never touched a cigarette in his life.
But even though there was so much left unsaid in the room, on both parties behalf, the flow of conversation never seemed to end. And, at five o' clock when visiting hours for all non-family members ended, the three boys would leave with the promise to be back next Saturday.
~X~
Once Winter Break hit, Sirius and Peter stopped coming.
Their parents wouldn't allow it.
"I'm sorry." Sirius looked more upset at the news than Remus did.
"Mother insists." Peter seemed almost gleeful to get away from the hospital.
~X~
The week before Christmas, James had come in and explained that he wouldn't be able to visit again until after the new year. He would be spending the holidays in St. Ottery, with Lily.
"But," James promised, looking almost like it pained him to tell Remus this. "I'll be back on the first, okay?"
~X~
As he did every year, Dumbledore held a Christmas Feast for all those who stayed at Hogwarts over the holidays. There were only ten students who had stayed this year but dinner was just as large and festive as if there had been hundreds.
Christmas trees, decorated in large blue and red baubles and strings of lights, lined the walls. Red and white candles, all glowing brightly, hung over the tables. A jaunty holiday tune filled the Great Hall and every holiday dish that could be imagined were spread across the tables. Tables which were already filled with the students that had remained in the school.
It was a peaceful meal.
A happy one.
And it came as a surprise to everyone, even the teachers, when a large owl came careening towards the Staff Table. The black feathered bird landed gracefully in front of Dumbledore and held out a leg, waiting for the wizard to pull off the official looking roll of parchment tied to it. Just like it had been trained to do, it left without waiting for a treat. Which was good, because one would never come. The Headmaster was too busy unfurling the rolled parchment, one that bore the seal of St. Mungoes, to give the owl anymore attention.
As Dumbledore read the letter, his face fell. His blue eyes lost the cheer and, suddenly, Christmas didn't seem like that grand a holiday now.
"Albus?" McGonnagal questioned, eyes stuck to the blue wax seal that marred the back of the letter. "What is it?"
Dumbledore closed his eyes, an almost defeated look settling on his face. "It's a letter from the Head Wizard at St. Mungoes. He wanted to inform me that Remus passed away last night...He offers his condolences."
~X~
The memorial was larger then anyone thought it would be. Dumbledore, who had been Remus' guardian before he turned sixteen, had arranged it on a small plot of land behind the castle. Invitations had been sent out to all that attended the school, though the Headmaster hadn't really expected many to show up.
James, Sirius, and Peter were a given.
Molly, Lily, and Arthur weren't much of a surprise either. Neither was the handful of teachers that had come simply because they felt obligated to or the handful of older Gryffindors that had showed up.
Everyone else, however, had come as a complete surprise to the aging wizard. Severus and Narcissa and so many other students that he hadn't been aware even spoke to the young werewolf attended.
So many looked completely stricken with grief.
When the ceremony ended, Dumbledore went to the two that had been the closest to Remus. The two that looked the worse, both haggard and tired looking and smelling far too much like alcohol for the old mans taste, but had cried the least.
And when he questioned them as to how they were faring, James and Sirius merely told him that they were just a little stressed.