AUTHOR'S NOTE: [somersaults in] hello hello! fist bump to anyone who catches the thor reference
triggers for this chapter: anxiety, panic attacks, mentions of blood (very fleeting), homophobic slurs (queer is used twice derogatorily), implications of violence, mentions of injury. also, fenrir greyback mocks remus' stutter.
remus transforms into a werewolf in this chapter and while it's not long, it can be upsetting to read, so please please please be aware of that before you read if you think it might upset or trigger you.
The fifth time Remus Lupin died, it was a rainy Saturday. It was, as it happened, a full moon, and James and Sirius were deep in discussion over what they were going to do that night. Remus was sitting at Sirius' feet, scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment he had said was an essay for Transfiguration. Sirius' hands were playing idly with Remus' hair, which was getting a bit shaggy in the back. Every so often James would stop talking to give them a disgusted look (it was purely joking; he was, as he told them, insulted at their audacity to flaunt their love in front of him, who was so deprived of love), at which Remus rolled his eyes.
After a while James left the common room to go get some food from the kitchens to satisfy his neverending hunger and Remus and Sirius were left alone (Peter had gone to the library to study and the rest of the students seemed not to want to spend much time in the same room as Sirius or James, mainly because of their prank-pulling tendencies). Remus finally dotted the end of the last sentence of his Transfiguration essay and was just moving on to the studying he had to do for Charms when Sirius broke their comfortable silence.
"Remus?" he asked, slightly hesitantly.
"Mmm?"
"Tonight, can I...can I be there? For the change, I mean."
Remus sat up, back ramrod straight. "W-why?"
Sirius thought that if his hands were shaky (they were, he noticed, as he glanced over at where they were, folded into Remus' lap, fingers covered in ink), his voice definitely was. He took a deep breath. "I want to know what it's like. If we-if we're a serious thing then I might have to see it. In the future, I mean. If you want, I'll tell James and Peter that we're not doing anything this month and it can just be you and me."
Remus' back was shaking now as well. Sirius leaned forward cautiously and started rubbing circles on his back, slow and soothing. Remus relaxed slightly under his hands. After a while, he spoke. "F-fine. Yes, you c-c-can come, but I s-swear you won't...you won't e-e-enjoy it. God kn-knows I d-don't."
Sirius gripped his shoulder, comforting and warm and there. Remus sighed softly and leaned back against the chintz armchair Sirius was sitting in, letting his cheek rub against the soft fabric. Soon after, James came back, arms full with bottles of freezing pumpkin juice and food he had gotten from the kitchens.
"Why the long faces? It's full moon tonight!"
Sirius, who had been whispering soft things to Remus, not at all his usual joking self, looked up. "If you didn't get me an extra eclair, I'm disowning you," he warned, his perpetual grin falling back into place.
James let out a loud, overdramatic fake gasp. "You wouldn't!"
"Oh, I would. I can get Remus to draw up the legal documents and everything, can't I, Remus?"
Remus smiled despite himself. James held up his pretense for a moment or two longer before collapsing into the chair next to Sirius', tossing his best friend an eclair and choosing a chicken leg for himself. "So, how've my two best mates been while I was gone?"
"James, you w-were gone for about t-t-twenty-"
"We've been talking," Sirius said, interrupting Remus midsentence. "And we decided that it's just gonna be me who's there tonight. You and Peter can come next month, but this time-"
James rolled his eyes. "I don't want to know what sort of kinky shit you have planned, mate, I really don't. I suppose I'll just-" he grimaced, like it was painful to say "-study tonight."
"We've g-g-gotten you to do the impossible, J-James," Remus said, his smile tired but genuine. Sirius laughed, the sound almost like a bark (Remus thought privately that his choice in Animagus form was quite suitable).
They set out from the castle earlier than usual, heading for the Shrieking Shack underneath James' invisibility cloak ("If it's not returned in one piece, Black, I swear to God-"), standing closer than normal out of necessity. Remus pretended he didn't shiver every time Sirius' side flitted against his before leaving again, every time their hand touched and in turn, Sirius pretended he wasn't scared of what would happen. He, James, and Peter never saw the actual transformation. They waited outside the Shack in their Animagus forms while Remus transformed, trying to ignore the agonised screams echoing from inside, the sound of bones breaking and reforming.
"Make sure you t-t-transform before I do, or it won't r-realise that you're-well, you. It'll r-r-rip you to sh-shreds unless you're P-Padfoot," Remus said quietly. Sirius nodded once and pulled his t-shirt over his head, stowing it with his shoes and socks in one corner of the bedroom. The Shack was not haunted at all, he thought, but that did not stop it from being slightly spooky, especially at night. He shed the rest of his clothing (the exception being his underwear, another pair of which he had brought with him) and sat down on the bed, mentally preparing himself.
Remus did the same, but sat down in the centre of the dusty floor instead, folding his shaking hands neatly in his lap. "It's coming," he said dully, around ten o'clock. Sirius' head shot up and a second later Remus was looking not at his best friend (and boyfriend, he reminded himself, as he reminded himself every day), but at a large black dog, fur shaggy, eyes round and yellow.
Then it started and all things, all memories and rational thoughts were removed, replaced with white-hot pain. It blocked out everything except sound; he could hear the cracking of every bone in his body as they shattered, the agony so intense it numbed him momentarily as they were replaced with the limbs of a beast. Screaming, distant but his, and crying (but was it his or another's?).
And then nothing.
Everything was replaced, vision and hearing and feel and smell. The colours were distorted. He was now it. A monster, the kind parents tell their children about at night to scare them into being good. You'd better be a good little boy, or the scary monster will get you! He had never been told that when he was young. His parents knew and he knew that he could be the best little boy in the world and it wouldn't make a difference. The monster would always, always get him, shed his skin and replace it with its own leathery hide, break his fragile bones and grow new, better ones in their place. Every day was a countdown.
Sirius huffed out a breath. He didn't mind being Padfoot (it was sort of enjoyable, really), but it was strange to go from seeing colours as a human to seeing them as a dog. In the Shrieking Shack, however, most colours stayed the same regardless of your form. The decorations might once have had colour, but now they were blue and grey and covered in a thick layer of dust.
He tried to think about this while Remus transformed, instead of the screams and crying, pretending he did not know the source or the reason why, but it was impossible. When it was complete, he turned to look at the beast before him, a familiar sight. He led Remus out of the Shack and to the Forbidden Forest. His friend seemed much tamer than he normally was on the full moon; he only stopped to chase squirrels and rabbits a handful of times, and killed none of them.
Normally on the full moon, they, James, and Peter would go on adventures, going deep into the Forest (it was safer for them, with a werewolf by their side and transformed, than it would be if the four were all human). This time, they just walked.
When the sky began turning grey and the sun started to rise, Sirius led Remus back to the Shack, where he transformed back into a human. Sirius did the same and quickly put on his clothes, tossing Remus' pile to where he sat, shaking slightly, in a corner of the room.
"You'd best get decent, or we'll be missed at breakfast," Sirius said, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice.
Remus looked up, pulling a t-shirt over his head. "Was it-was it bad?"
Sirius swallowed. "Not as bad as it must have been for you, I'm sure."
"Oh, g-god, Sirius, I'm s-s-so sorry," Remus said, his voice cracking. Sirius shook his head, pretending that he wasn't crying.
"It's not your fault, Remus. I'm the one who wanted to be there. I'm fine. You're the one who should be upset."
"S-stop it. Why-why can't you c-c-cry? Why c-can't you be upset? J-just-come here," Remus said, panic creeping into his voice. Sirius slid reluctantly off of the bed and sat down in front of Remus, crossing his legs. Remus pulled him into a tight hug, letting the familiar scent of pine (was that cologne or just natural?) wash over him.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Sirius mumbled, giving in and letting himself cry. "I shouldn't be crying all over you."
Remus shushed him softly, running his hands through Sirius' hair. The only way to cheer him up is with a joke, he thought. A second later, he said, gently, "It's okay to c-c-cry sometimes, Sirius. Crying is p-punk."
Sirius hit him, but laughed tearily anyway. They stayed like that for a moment, him crying and giggling softly into Remus' shoulder, before Remus pulled away. His eyes searched Sirius' face for signs of disgust or anger or malice, but none were there. Impulsively, he leaned forward and kissed him, hard. Sirius let out a little gasp, fisting his hands in Remus' shirt.
Too soon (far, far too soon for either of them) Remus pulled away, smiling softly. "We'd better go b-back to the castle," he whispered, pressing their foreheads together so they shared the same breath (their mouths were barely an inch apart, something that Sirius found desperately unfair). "People will w-wonder where we are."
"Let them wonder," Sirius hissed, grinning. Remus rolled his eyes.
The sixth time Remus Lupin died, it was two weeks after he graduated from Hogwarts. Sirius wasn't with him, though he wanted to be; some old relative he actually didn't hate (a rare occurrence) had passed away and he was attending the funeral. Remus was walking home from the grocery store, humming a song he had heard on the radio, the name of which he couldn't remember, when he heard voices from a side alley behind a bar.
"Disgusting."
"Pretending to be a human, an' all, the filth! Won't even accept that he's a monster, same as us." This was followed by cackling.
Remus, eyebrows furrowed slightly, peered around the side of the building. His heart stopped. There were three men, all large and intimidating (was that blood on that one's face?), the tallest and broadest among them familiar to Remus. Fenrir Greyback. He leered at Remus, baring his sharp, pointed teeth.
"Ah, little Remus Lupin!" he sneered, causing the others to snicker. "I remember when you were much smaller than you are now. How old were you, again? Six? Seven?"
"I was f-five," Remus hissed, teeth gritted.
"Shame, really, that your parents kept you from me. How are they, by the way?"
"I wouldn't know."
"Oh, that's right! Gave you up, dint they? Put you in the foster system? Guess they didn't care about you as much as you'd like to imagine. Your father, he...he was delicious."
A peculiar numbness was spreading throughout Remus' body as the other men jeered. "B-be quiet," he said, low and fierce.
"'B-b-b-be qu-quiet'?" Fenrir mocked, adopting a high, squeaky voice. "Is that whatchu said, you little maggot? You defective or something?"
"He is, an' all. He's a queer, ain't he, him and that Sirius Black are living together," cackled the shortest. Remus winced at the slur, but stood his ground.
"Are you now?" Fenrir asked, his grin entirely devoid of humour. "A queer werewolf with a st-st-stutter. Blimey, boys, we've got ourselves a rare breed. You know what we do with scum like you?" he whispered, stepping towards Remus so that he could smell his disgusting breath. "We wipe the fucking street with you."
Remus' heartbeat was thumping fast in his ears, so loud that he was sure the others could hear it. "G-get away fr-from me," he said.
"G-g-get away f-f-from you?" Fenrir mimicked, laughing. He stepped back a few paces. "Go wild," he said, waving a hand. His two thugs lunged forward and the last thing Remus saw before everything went black was a fist hurling itself towards his face.
The seventh time Remus died was two days after that, when Sirius got home from Ireland where the funeral had been and opened the door of their flat to find him, curled in a ball on the sofa, grimacing even as he slept.
"Remus! Oh, god, what's happened to you?"
Remus woke and sat up, wincing slightly. "I'm fine, S-S-Sirius, really," he mumbled, though the slur in his voice proved that he was not.
"You need to go to the hospital this second," Sirius said, and started helping him up. Remus' hand tightened around his arm and he looked into his green eyes, wide with fear.
"No," Remus breathed. "I c-can't go th-there. Please, Sirius, I'm f-f-fine."
"Who did this to you?"
"Nobody. Just-just a couple of th-th-thugs is all. I just h-happened to be walking b-by."
"Are you really fine or are you lying to me?" Sirius asked, his grip on Remus loosening as he realised he was probably hurting him. Remus let out a small sigh of relief, which confirmed it.
"Okay, definitely not fine."
"It's just a c-couple of b-b-bruised ribs," Remus whispered, voice tight with pain though he tried to pretend it wasn't.
"Sit down and let me help," Sirius said seriously, helping him lie back down on the couch. Slowly, painstakingly, Sirius healed him (Remus was lying about it only being a couple of bruised ribs-he had a lump the size of a dragon's egg on his head from where he'd hit it, a busted lip, and one of his wrists was hanging in a way a wrist should most definitely not hang), and though by the time he was done Remus' head was lolling from exhaustion, he was fine.
"Now, I'm going to make you a cuppa and we're going to watch trashy television and cuddle until you fall asleep. Is that okay with you? Just kidding! You have no choice."
Remus managed to roll his eyes, which was an astonishing feat, but smiled softly anyway. Sirius winked and trotted to the kitchen to fix two mugs of tea. When he was gone, Remus' smile turned into a grimace. His fingers had somehow made their way into his mouth without his realising and his fingernails, which had started growing back, were now stubs once more. He pulled his fingers out of his mouth in horror, tears springing to his eyes at the sight of blood. Remus' hands began to shake, his attempts to calm himself down failing.
fuck no not again jesus christ i can't do this i can't do this i can't do this i can't do this i can't-
"Remus, are you-?" Sirius had re-entered the living room, hands full of mugs and biscotti (dipped in dark chocolate, which he knew was Remus' favourite type), all of which he dropped on the coffee table before sitting down next to Remus, whose entire body was shaking.
"I c-c-can't breathe," he whispered, his breath coming out in short little gasps.
"It's okay, Remus, it's okay, I'm here," Sirius said, pulling Remus into his arms and holding him tight.
"I'm sorry I'm s-sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm s-s-sorry," Remus mumbled into his shoulder, sobs intermingling with the words. He curled his hands into fists and then flexed his fingers out again, going through this motion over and over again in an attempt to calm down (it didn't work, but that didn't stop him).
After what seemed like an age but what was probably only a few minutes, his breathing began to slow back down to normal and he pulled himself out of Sirius' arms. "I'm s-sorry for breaking down like th-th-this," Remus said, wiping his eyes.
"Remus, you were attacked. You have every fucking right to break down. Here, I made you green tea. Your favourite."
Remus gave Sirius a watery smile and accepted the hot mug. After a minute, he relaxed slightly, letting Sirius put an arm around him and pull a blanket over the two of them. Sirius ran his hand soothingly through Remus' hair, whispering soft things to him. Eventually Remus drifted off to sleep, head in Sirius' lap, legs folded neatly underneath the blanket. Sirius took the nearly empty mug from Remus' hand and placed it on the coffee table, careful not to wake him, and sat back, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Remus' head.
He fell asleep soon after.
The eighth time he died, it was November 1st, 1981 and the headline of the Daily Prophet read: HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED DEFEATED AT LAST. Below that was a picture of the smouldering ruins of his best friends' home. Underneath, in tiny type: the home of the late James and Lily Potter (née. Evans), where He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was defeated.
He skimmed the article, a freezing sensation spreading throughout his entire body. Killed. Survived by son. You-Know-Who dead. Betrayed by best man. Peter Pettigrew killed. Sirius Black. Sirius Black. Sirius Black. Azkaban.
"No."