Disclaimer: In case you haven't already figured it out I do not own Harry Potter
Broken.
That's what he is - broken. But no, he's more than that - he's shattered, his glass heart grieving from the pain of his life, irreparable, irreplaceable, never to get better.
The first time he broke, he was just four years old, an innocent child who was unaware of the horrors of the world he lived in, but not for long.
He would never be able to forget it. He was playing by himself when his father came home in a mad panic. Their eyes met, and Remus's dad told him to go to his room and stay there.
Being a mischievous and overly curious young boy, he naturally began planning ways to sneak out the moment this was said.
He snuck out the back door, careful to not alert his parents as to what he was doing, and glanced up at the full moon. He had always liked the full moon - it was always full of wonder and always seemed to possess some sort of magical property.
He looked around the backyard for a bit before deciding to go on the swing. As he was halfway there, two golden orbs appeared in the bush behind the swing set.
There was something sinister and something wrong about those orbs. He took a step back, and the orbs moved forward; he realised then that the golden orbs were eyes, and the creature they belonged to was growling lowly in the bushes, preparing to attack.
He took another step back and stumbled across a branch, which cracked like a gunshot through the darkness as the monster pounced.
His entire body was on fire as the monster mauled his side. He was in more pain than he would have ever thought possible, and would have welcomed death's cold embrace just so that the pain would end. He screamed before he slowly sank into unconsciousness.
He was only four years old. Only a child - well, not anymore.
He was broken.
It took a few years before he broke again. By then he was eight, still young but long past childhood. With the monthly transformations, and the pain in his life, he had grown up quickly.
He had moved from town to town, scared to make friends and moving on whenever someone discovered his secret. Even still, even after seeing the looks on people's faces after realising what he was, he had a fantasy that if he worked hard enough, he could prove to the world that he was more than the monster inside him.
He had moved yet again, and was living in a small village with a mixture of Muggles and wizards. He made friends with a boy called Sam, and the two grew close, developing a seemingly unbreakable friendship.
The boys believed it to be unbreakable, until Sam's father found out what Remus was. Like any parent protecting their child, Sam's father didn't want him around a werewolf, a monster.
Sam's father attacked him, leaving him for dead on the ground, shouting about 'teaching filthy half-breeds' and 'putting the monster out of its misery.'
He packed up and moved away the very next morning, away from Sam, away from Sam's father. He never saw Sam again and something in him broke as he realised he would never be able to have friends; they would always abandon him upon finding out what he was, for no one wanted to be friends with a werewolf.
And another bit of his fragile heart was ripped off.
After that he was twelve before he broke again. He was at Hogwarts, and he had friends who accepted him. Granted, they didn't know his secret, and he had deluded himself into believing that they never would.
They were settled in the dorm, and his friends were looking at him with unreadable expressions, glancing at each other and then back at him.
The James opened his mouth "Remus, we were…Well, you see…We…Er-"
He glanced at the other two as if asking for help. Sirius rolled his eyes and blurted out, "We know you're a werewolf."
It was then that Remus shattered - he was going to lose the only friends he had. They were going to abandon him, they were going to leave, they were going to tell everyone, they were going to get him kicked out of Hogwarts.
But they didn't, they accepted him, they remained friends, and eventually they became Animagi, all for him.
Slowly, they started picking up the broken pieces.
It was three years later when he broke again. He was in the hospital wing, covered in scratches and bruises from a full moon a lot worse than any he had had in years.
James was next to his bed, a solemn expression on his usually-laughing face.
"Sirius did it - Sirius told Snape how to get through the passage last night."
Everything came falling down around him as the words echoed in his head.
A piece of him broke, a piece of the trust he had for his friends. If they could betray him once, they could do it again.
It wasn't for a long time that he broke again, not until 1981.
Despite the war, he still had his friends, and the illusion that he always would.
At first he heard that Voldemort had been defeated and happiness swelled up inside him, and then, so soon after, he discovered how.
James and Lily dead. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, and he didn't even know if he wanted to anymore. Sirius had betrayed them - Sirius had sold them to Voldemort and then blown Peter apart.
How could this be happening? Why did it have to happen?
While the rest of the Wizarding world celebrated the downfall of Voldemort, he was one of the few to think of what it had cost.
This time he didn't break, he shattered - shattered into a million pieces - and spent over a decade slowly trying to glue the pieces together again.
It was years later that another part of him broke. This breakage was slow and gradual, tearing him apart and ripping down the seams he had sewn together slowly.
It was Harry that did it this time. Every time he saw his best friend, laughing, talking, working, living.
Every time he saw Lily's eyes, those bright, emerald orbs, staring up at him.
Every time he saw him talking with his friends, in such a similar way to James.
Every time he gave that funny, witty comeback that he could have sworn came from Lily's own mouth.
Every time he flew, that same, breathtaking, distinctive style that James had.
In the hours they spent together with Harry learning to repel the Dementors, it nearly ripped him into shreds every time Harry spoke of what he saw. "I heard my father that time."
Every time he saw Harry he broke, just a little more, thinking of what could have been, what should have been.
He broke again one night in the Shrieking Shack, but this time, for the first time, he was happy to break.
He saw that dot run across the parchment, a single name he never thought he would see again. He saw it collide with the name Sirius Black, and three dots dragged into the tunnel, towards the Shrieking Shack.
He ran out without a second glance; this time he was getting the truth.
As he stared down at the man he had once - so long ago! - called a friend, who was clutching at his robes, begging for his life, he broke, but this time it was different. This time he broke, but a little bit of long-forgotten hope welled up inside him.
Two years later, he was happier, he had a friend back - and then he broke again.
He watched as Sirius fell through the veil, heard Harry screaming out his name, and grabbed him, holding him back, staying strong for the both of them.
Harry was screaming, and Remus was telling him that Sirius couldn't come back, that Sirius was dead.
That's what broke him this time, admitting it out loud, finally realising that he was the last true Marauder standing.
In the two years after that, so much happened: he got married, for one. He was happy, but that couldn't last; he should have realised that happy endings just don't exist. Hadn't that been proven time and time again as he fought through the pain?
She was going to have a baby, his baby. A werewolf can't father a child, they just can't. It's not possible - it just doesn't happen.
What would happen to the baby? What if it was like him - what if he'd gone and ruined a life, condemned an innocent child to a horrible fate? What if it could never forgive him? More importantly, would he ever forgive himself?
Even if the child had no trace of lycanthropy, it would have to live with the shame of a monster for a father.
It's better off without him.
Another part of him broke.
The final time he broke was in the Battle of Hogwarts, fighting against Dolohov. Fighting for a better world, for him, for Tonks, for their baby, for the world.
He was in the thrill of the fight, dodging and battling to his heart's content.
A spell shot towards him and he realised, a little too late, what was about to happen. They say your life flashes before your eyes when you're about to die, and in a sense that was true. He remembered the times he broke, he remembered Teddy's birth, he remembered sneaking out after curfew in Hogwarts. He remembered the Marauders.
And he smiled a little.
Smiled because he was finally breaking properly, permanently, no longer hiding the tears and gluing back the pieces of his shattered life. Eventually, finally, the spell hit him, and Remus was gone.
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