Losing Faith

Chapter Twenty-Seven : Moony and Padfoot

Sirius Black and Remus Lupin Apparate to the seashore of Belgium when the sun is visible in the centre of the sky. The land is flat and barren, much like their spirits. The waters of the North Sea lap soothingly upon the shore, leaving bits of seashell and seaweed in the sand. Cool April winds burst around them, billowing their brown travelling robes forward. They had dressed lightly and taken only what supplies they needed--a few days worth of rations, their wands and daggers, and the healing amulet of the elves.

Hagrid--an half-giant dressed in animal furs with a grey-streaked beard--approaches from the East; gliding above him in the air are two dragons. They recognise one as Norbert, a Norwegian Ridgeback. Sand kicks up around the two as the dragons circle through the air, gradually descending from the azure sky. Shielding their eyes, Sirius and Remus dig their boots into the ground and clench their fists until their knuckles are white, fighting the growing fear that comes with the sight of all dragons.

Norbert lands first, his black body smaller than the Romanian Longhorn. Tucking his wings close to his large body, Norbert bounds up to Hagrid and rests beside him. The Longhorn, on the other hand, glares untrustingly at the wizards, baring his sharp, yellow teeth. Unconsciously, Remus and Sirius both take a step back as the dragon slowly approaches, accidentally bumping into each other in their fear. With quick apologies, Sirius and Remus force themselves not to turn tail and run. They clench their jaws and fists, blood dripping from between their fingers as their nails dig into the flesh of their palms.

The dragon turns an eye towards them and snaps his large jaws, spitting salvia.

The Romanian Longhorn is named after a large golden horn growing next to two smaller ones in the centre of his forehead. It's chipped at the top; the dragon is an ancient one. His scales are dark green and are harder than diamonds. They glimmer in the sunlight, and his underbelly is a matte green, several shades lighter than his back. His tail is longer than his body, and it rocks behind him as he walks. The Longhorn's eyes are large and alert, one blue and the other silver. When he was young, this dragon had fought with his kin, and he is blind in the silver eye because of this. His wings are large and leathery, with green scales that occasionally flake off as he moves. He's one of the largest dragons of his kind, around fifty feet long and twenty feet tall.

"Say 'hi' ter Prince Flameskin, the Green-Scaled." Hagrid beams as he turns to Sirius and Remus, grinning broadly at the sight of two old friends. "Charlie named 'im, was a favourite of his. He'll be able ter take yeh 'cross the sea, but he expects compensation for his services. A deer carcass would do, I s'pose."

Remus swallows the lump working its way up his throat.

Hagrid peers at the sweating wizards cluelessly. "Oh! That's jus' fear yer feelin'. Don' worry, he won' eat yeh . . . I hope. Jus' make sure he eats before yeh send 'im back, or no tellin' what he could do ter those Death Eaters."

"So we don't want him to eat the Death Eaters?" Remus mumbles to himself, considering that it would end quite a few of their problems if they could unleash a few dragons on Britain.

Sirius nods quickly, unable to speak. His mouth is parched, and he thinks he might swallow his tongue if he swallows his fear as Remus did. The fear that dragons instil into Remus and Sirius is unlike any fear that they have ever felt. When Sirius was condemned to a life in Azkaban, he didn't feel dread such as this. When Remus was a teenager and Death Eaters raided his home, killing his family, he didn't feel dread such as this.

"W--we'll feed him, Hagrid, don't worry," Sirius stammers, sweat beading along his hairline. "B--but can't he just . . . h--hunt . . . for his own food?" He shakes, but not from the gust of wind passing over them from the sea.

"That wouldn' be such a good thing. Yeh want to be unseen, don' yeh? Those Death Eaters ain't a stupid lot; they'd notice a dragon running in their forests. Prince Flameskin isn't the quiet type." Hagrid's eyes crinkle mirthfully with pleasure as he looks upon the Longhorn, patting him twice on his flank.

Sirius's eyes dart around maniacally. Of course the Death Eaters would notice a dragon; he's clearly not thinking straight if he thought otherwise. Those Death Eaters have proved many times over that they aren't all thick-skulled.

"He expects an offerin' for his deed. He'll eat yeh two if you don' offer 'im one," Hagrid explains. "Dragons are a stubborn bunch, only few people can control 'em." With a leather-gloved hand, he pets Norbert's side fondly, his face flushed with happiness. He turns back to Sirius and Remus. "Come closer, I'll show yeh how to mount 'im."

The small hairs on the back of Sirius's neck stir as he steps towards Prince Flameskin, the Green-Scaled. He stands next to the great beast, rigid with terror, and the dragon snorts at him, unimpressed with his riders. Remus stands frozen with fright, his throat constricting, for several seconds before forcing his left foot forward, then his right, and then his left again. Eventually, he's beside Sirius and the dragon, his skin growing clammier the closer he is to the beast.

Prince Flameskin growls, parting his lip.

"Yeh'll have ter ride without a saddle. Flameskin won' allow anyone to constrict his movements with saddles. Jus' make sure yeh hang on tight; landing will be the hardest thing on yeh. Remember not ter look down," Hagrid explains as he walks next to Flameskin, the smaller dragon Norbert on his heels. "Lie down, Flameskin," he commands, placing his hand on the dragon's flank.

Flameskin growls deeply from his throat.

"Lie down, Prince Flameskin," Hagrid commands again, and this time the dragon resentfully obeys. Hagrid cocks his head towards the young wizards. "Yeh might want ter call 'im 'Prince Flameskin, the Green-Scaled'. Dragons are noble creatures, an' they demand a big amount of respect."

Sirius and Remus mount the dragon awkwardly, requiring assistance from Hagrid, who tolerates their incompetence with mild amusement. Visibly shaking, Remus wraps his arms tightly around Sirius's torso, holding on tightly. If he falls, he's taking Sirius with him.

Hagrid takes a large copper collar and snaps it around the dragon's neck, handing the leather reins to Sirius. "Hold on tight ter these," he says. "Good luck! Say 'hi' ter Neville for me!"

The jolt drives Sirius and Remus's stomachs into their boots as the dragon lunges into the air. Gripping the reins with white knuckles and numb fingers, Sirius feels his heart jump as the dragon takes flight. Behind him, Remus rests his cheek against Sirius's back, his eyes gripped closed. The ground beneath them becomes rushing water as Flameskin soars higher, eventually becoming parallel with the North Sea. He glides and darts from side to side, and the only sound to be heard is the beating of his magnificent wings.

The flight over the Strait of Dover takes less than twenty minutes on dragonback. As they approach Canterbury and Dover, the dragon ascends again, soaring with the clouds over the two cities. They quickly approach their destination, and Flameskin slowly descends like a shark circling his prey. He lands in a clearing near the river flowing in from the East of the North Sea, hidden from human eyes.

Dropping the reins from his frozen hands, Sirius jumps down from the dragon's back, and helps the terrified Remus to the ground. From the position of the sun in the sky, Sirius guesses it's around four o'clock in the afternoon, which means that they will have to travel through the night and rest during the days.

Remus, face still etched in desperation, glances warily about. Above him, Flameskin snorts as if to remind them that he deserves payment, or they will be on his dinner plate. Colour drains from Remus's face as he looks to Sirius.

"Where are we going to find a deer?"

Sirius grins, his dragon-fear forgotten in the anxiousness that crawls over his skin. "Where else but in the forests? Change, and we can hunt together. Just like old times."

Remus frowns, and casts his eyes towards the ground. "Things can never be like old times. James is dead, and so's Peter. To me, he died the night same night as Lily and James," Remus's voice quavers, and blood drains from his already ashen face.

Sirius's breath catches in his throat.

"You hunt," Remus whispers, his words strong. "I'll watch Prince Flameskin."

Sirius blinks twice in surprise. He had thought that Remus would revel in this freedom. When was the last time they had Changed and run together? "Well, if that's what you really want," Sirius replies, his voice small. Before Remus has the chance to reply, Sirius converts to his Animagus form and bounds off towards the woods.

Remus watches Padfoot dash off, and he walks down to the river to splash cold water upon his face. Behind him, Flameskin lays down to rest, running his tongue over his jaws and eyeing Remus as a tasty morsel.

Padfoot enters the thicket at a full run, using keen eyesight to dodge the trees and obstacles overcrowding his path. Blurs of greens and browns pass him, the scents of the forest animals and, more importantly, deer fill his nostrils. Leaping over a fallen tree trunk, Padfoot follows the deer scent, the wind blowing it straight into his face.

He stops abruptly. Rearing his head into the air, he intakes several breaths, and bounds to the west, aiming to intercept the deer before the animal knows what's happening. The deer Padfoot smelt is a lone stag, and Padfoot considers himself lucky. Hunting for a deer is dangerous.

The stag lifts his head, twitches his ears, and looks around with marble black eyes. He pauses for only a second before dashing away, and Padfoot is right on his hooves. The musky, tantalizing odour of the deer wills Padfoot to run faster, and he leaps.

The back leg of the deer is caught in Padfoot's jaws, and the stag stumbles to the ground. Desperately attempting to kick Padfoot from his hind leg, the deer's eyes dilate with fear. One hoof lands on Padfoot's flank, ripping his jaws from the deer, and he yelps. Padfoot ignores the bleeding in his side and pounces forward, the smell of blood intoxicating to the point that it's all he cares about.

Sinking his teeth into the deer's underbelly, he rips and slices, soon leaving a gaping wound. He then quickly leaps for the throat, and the deer quivers a few moments longer before losing life all together.

Padfoot rears his head up and howls.

He then wonders how he's going to get this back to the dragon.

Remus splashes the freezing water on his face and stands. Glancing back, he notices that Flameskin is watching him with one eye--the silver one--closed. He shudders, scratching his crawling skin. He never once thought that he would be in a position that he would become someone's lunch. Remus dries his face with the sleeve of his robes and walks back towards the clearing, gazing up at the sun.

When Sirius finally returns, he staggers forward, clenching his side. Remus immediately rushes forward, his fear of the dragon replaced by the fear for Sirius.

"What happened?" Remus asks urgently.

"Took a hit in the side. I'll be okay." Sirius cringes, and Remus helps him sit. "Where're the bandages? You'll be able to wrap it, right?" Sirius face twists in pain, and he grits his teeth. Although he's been injured before, he doesn't remember it hurting and burning this much.

Remus whips his head around frantically. "Yeah . . ." He climbs to his feet, and dives for the leather pack resting near the dragon. Flameskin opens his eyes, peering at Sirius, considering how well he'd sit in the dark pit of his stomach.

With the pack in his shaking hands, Remus kneels next to Sirius and fumbles with unbuttoning his robes. Sirius winces as Remus slides the robes from his shoulders. The gash given to Sirius in Animagus form is around three inches, but not fatal. The bleeding is steady, and Remus dabs the blood with a cloth, using rubbing alcohol to clean it. Sirius snarls in agony and pulls away from Remus.

"This is all my fault," Remus mutters. "I should have gone with you."

"Don't say that," Sirius whispers, watching as Remus dresses his wound. Remus shrugs as he wraps a long cloth tightly around Sirius's torso. Snipping the cloth and tucking it into itself, Remus begins to button Sirius's robes.

Sirius lays his hand over Remus's.

"Thanks, Moony."

Remus flushes and jerks his hand away. He stumbles away from Sirius, and behind them, the dragon snorts a small burst of orange fire. He reminds them of his payment.

"How do we tell the beast that his compensation is in the forest, two miles West?"

Flameskin's ears twitch, but he growls. The worms didn't use his name. He lumbers to his feet and snaps at Remus and Sirius, splattering salvia on them. Disgusted, they wipe it from their faces with their hands. Inhaling deeply, fire bubbles inside Flameskin's stomach, and opening his mouth, he breathes a small amount of fire just above the short hairs of Sirius and Remus's heads. They stand frozen, and the dragon sits, waiting for payment--or these two will be seeing the inside of his belly.

"Two miles? How exactly did Hagrid expect us to give the dragon a deer carcass?"

Sirius stares blankly at Remus. "Levitate it," he answers simply, shrugging.

Remus nods. "Stay here and rest; I'll attend to the deer."

Close to an hour later, Remus returns with a bleeding stag carcass floating behind him. Letting the body fall before the dragon, Prince Flameskin, the Green-Scaled eyes his meal. He snorts and climbs to his feet, and Remus forces himself to remain calm. Flameskin sniffs the carcass and breathes a jolt of fire over it, cooking the raw meat. He sinks his massive jaws deep into the stag, contented with the morsel. Remus exhales deeply, relieved, and turns.

"We should rest till moonrise," Remus says.

"No. We should travel as far as we can. Every minute we're here is a risk to our lives. Change, and let's go." Sirius's violet eyes sparkle with vivacity; he seems to forget about the blood-soaked bandage around his waist in the prospect of running.

Remus frowns, sidestepping the topic. "You need to rest," he replies over the slobbering and grinding of the dragon behind him. "It's only around six, we would begin our run at eight, follow the river and find a safe place to make camp for the day."

Sirius purses his lower lip and whimpers deeply in his throat. He attempts to rise, but he suddenly drops back to the ground with a scream. "Bloody hell, Remus. It hurts less when I'm in my Animagus form," he pleads.

"You're still bleeding," Remus points out, dismissing Sirius's words.

"Can't you magic it away? Didn't you memorise the healing spell in Merlin's book?" Sirius whines, resting against a tree trunk. He glances over at Flameskin when he growls, telling them that he is now taking his leave. Good riddance, Sirius thinks.

Stretching his wings into the air, Flameskin rises, sending winds beating against the two wizards as he does. They watch, shielding their eyes with their arms, as the dragon takes off. They inwardly hope that no Death Eaters see the great beast, but, after all, no mere mortal is able to control the flight patterns of the great dragons.

"I can try my wand at the Healing Incantation, but I know it won't heal completely. And, you'll have a nasty scar--"

"S'all right, women fancy scars," Sirius interjects.

Remus smirks, mildly amused. He withdraws his wand and clears his throat. Moments of silence pass, and Sirius stares at his best friend. "I don't remember the spell," Remus states vacantly.

"Like hell!" Sirius pounces, wrapping his arms around Remus's upper thighs playfully, pushing him to the ground. The pain in his side is forgotten in his elation, and Remus grasps Sirius's muscular upper arms, grinning. Sirius's arms support him above Remus, and Remus's hands are ready to demolish the pillars. Snapping his right hand, Sirius's arm lifts from the ground, and his eyes widen. They stare down at Remus, who smirks triumphantly. Remus shoves Sirius from him, and gains the upper hand. Straddling Sirius's thighs, Remus's eyes dilate with amusement and triumph.

Sirius remains still, biding his time. He writhes beneath Remus's weight, although if Sirius really wanted to, he could throw Remus from him. Remus removes his hands from Sirius's arms, freeing them. With his yellow eyes remaining locked with Sirius's violet ones, Remus climbs to his feet.

That proves to be a mistake as Sirius tackles his legs once more. Sirius kneels over Remus and grins, breathing heavily. Normally, such energy won't spend him, but this hasn't been a normal day. "Now, repeat after me," Sirius instructs. "Ast Minuo de Sano, uth Desino."

"Ast Minou de Sano, uth Desino," Remus repeats quickly and with error, grinning.

"No, no, no! It's Ast Min-ou de Sa-no, uth De-si-no."

Remus grins, swallowing. He can feel the heat from Sirius's body through the layers of their robes, and it causes him to squirm slightly. His cheeks flush apple as he repeats the incantation, this time correctly, and Sirius stumbles to his feet.

The ground is damp beneath Remus because of the late snowfalls of the season, and the back of his robes is moist with water. Brushing off dead leaves and dirt after he stands, Remus takes aim with his wand at Sirius's side. Clearing his throat, Remus performs the Healing Incantation of old.

A crystal blue aura emerges from the tip of Remus's yew wand, swirling around Sirius's torso. Sirius's head snaps back, his eyes close, and his body wholly relaxes. The blue energy washes warmth over Sirius as it does its magick, and underneath the wrappings, the bleeding slows to a halt. The wound doesn't completely heal, but it is the best that they can hope for.

"How does that feel?" asks Remus as he replaces his wand in the folds of his robes.

"Hmmm," Sirius moans. "Much better. Now Change, and let's run!"

Remus chews on his lower lip, drawing his eyes towards the yellow sun that is still visible in the sky. Usually, his heart would soar at the thought of running with Sirius. When they run, nothing else seems to matter, they're truly free. Free from responsibility and human inhibitions. "We should really rest first, have something to eat," Remus insists.

"We can hunt. How does a rabbit sound?" Sirius persists. "We have no idea when the Death Eaters are going to patrol here, and I'd rather not be around when they do. I have a thing about being a prisoner, you know that. Small places just don't agree with me anymore." He pouts, his lower lip quivering and he stares at Remus with melancholy eyes.

"Unless you feel like walking through that forest, we can't leave yet!" Remus snaps, flinging his arms into the air in irritated resignation.

Sirius stares at Remus, confusion sweeping over his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Remus hangs his head in shame and defeat. "I can't Change in daylight, Sirius," he starts, his voice shaky and unsure. His stomach contracts into a tight ball, and Remus slouches his shoulders, hating himself for not being able to control his Changes. "We're stuck here until the sun goes down."

The blood drains from Sirius's face, and chills run up his spine. "Just try, Moony! We're in Death Eater territory!" he cries hysterically, the fear of being a prisoner overwhelming him.

"I tried while you were hunting," Remus replies, dejected.

"Bloody hell, if I knew you couldn't change, I wouldn't have allowed Flameskin to leave. I'd rather be in the belly of the dragon than be in a dungeon of the Death Eaters. Damn it, Moony!" Sirius exclaims in a huff. His face hardens and mouth quirks in annoyance.

"If you hadn't miscalculated the timing, we wouldn't be in this mess. I told you it was too early to Apparate!" Remus counters, his veins throbbing at his temple. Adrenaline courses through his body, and he bunches his fists, irritated at both himself and Sirius.

Sirius's jaw drops. "So now this is my fault?" he spits.

"Yes." The word comes angrily before Remus can stop it.

Sirius's fist slams into his open hand, blood surging through his veins. "It's not my fault you are unable to Change. Maybe if you didn't think of your werewolf blood as a curse instead of a gift, you'd appreciate what it does for you. Maybe the Changes would come more easily to you."

"You're not a werewolf, you don't understand. People don't look at you like a monster!" Remus cries, his anger transformed into an unyielding distress.

A blast of heat rushes to Sirius's face. "They may look at you like a monster, but they still look at me like a murderer. According to the world, I betrayed my best friends and killed innocent people. And nothing any Minister says can change that. We're in this together, Moony."

At the mention of Lily and James, Remus's heart aches with nostalgia. "You might be seen as a murderer, but I'm not even seen as human. I've lived with this my whole life; you've just been a murderer for half of yours," Remus replies softly, his body and mind suddenly exhausted. He will need that rest now to transform, otherwise they won't be covering much ground tonight.

Sirius averts his gaze from Remus, hesitant about how to reply. Holding his hands behind his back, he kicks a rock with his right foot. It skips over the rippling water of the river. "If we're stuck here, we may as well grab a bite to eat and rest. I'll stand guard first," he says, somewhat reluctantly. If they are going to be here, they should do something productive in this mission. Arguing isn't seen as productive, the last time Sirius checked.

Remus nods and grabs for the knapsack. Fumbling with the zipper, he unfastens it, tosses a small bag of dried jerky to Sirius, and saves one for himself. Remus plants himself next to a tree in the shade, ripping at the meat with his teeth and leaning his head against the rough bark.

Sirius sits next to the babbling water, watching Remus with unemotional eyes. He chews slowly on the meat and drinks mouthfuls from the water skin. The wound in his side steadily burns, but he's grown accustomed to the pain and no longer notices it.

Remus had only meant to rest his eyes, but when he opens them again, the sun's set and the moon's shining beyond the woods. Lifting a heavy arm, he wipes the sleep from his eye, and scans the glade. "Sirius?" he calls, his voice echoing eerily around him. His wolf-eyes quickly adjust to the darkness, and he sees a silhouette in the distance. "Sirius?" he repeats.

"Over here."

Remus yawns, covering his mouth with his hand. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"You looked so adorable all curled up there sleeping." Sirius smirks.

Remus blushes and praises the unknown deities that Sirius's eyes couldn't penetrate through the dark as his. "I should have taken second watch. You needed rest, too, with that wound and everything. How will you be able to run through the night?" Remus furrows his eyebrows, hesitantly frustrated with Sirius. He's not too keen on the idea of running when Sirius isn't rested. Silently, he curses himself for falling asleep.

Sirius shrugs indifferently. "Eh, I'll be fine. You're the one who had trouble Changing." And as quickly as Sirius says the words, he wishes he could take them back. Remus frowns, and Sirius hears him shift. "I didn't mean it like that, Moony. You were tired and I, well, was not."

Remus dismisses Sirius with a wave of his hand. "It's all right, Sirius. We'll run, rest, and then keep running." He stands, brushing the dirt from his robes, and pulling his hair away from his weary face. "What hour is it?"

"Tenth."

"I was asleep for three hours?" Remus regards Sirius incredulously.

"Just like when we were in Hogwarts. All you needed was the black blanket and the fireplace. It was adorable." Sirius's eyes dance at the memory. Vividly, he can picture it--a teenage Remus curled up on a blanket before the flickering flames of the Gryffindor Commons' hearth. Occasionally in his sleep, he'd twitch, or kick his back legs.

"Wake me next time; we've lost two hours," Remus comments, grabbing the shoulder bag and zipping it closed. He tosses it to Sirius, and Sirius scrabbles awkwardly to catch it. "You can carry the supplies for the first bout."

Sirius straightens and mockingly salutes Remus before he doubles over laughing. "Sure thing, mate." He grins, letting the bag slip from his fingers and land softly on the ground. Painlessly, he transforms into a black Labrador, and takes the bag with his teeth. He stands, tail twitching back and forth, watching Remus, waiting for him to Change.

Padfoot whines, stepping closer to Remus. He nudges Remus's hand, licking it.

A smile cracks over Remus's lips as he pets Padfoot behind the ears in good spirits. Upon hearing Padfoot growl at this patronizing act, he chuckles. Heaving a sigh, Remus sinks to his hands and knees, tucking his head in to his chest. Padfoot sits but doesn't watch in respect. Remus begins his Change.

The pain of transforming into a werewolf outweighs any other form of pain on the market. Every bone in one's body will break and remould in the shape that's needed. Although the other Marauders tried to understand Remus's pain, they never truly did. Animagi don't know real pain. They never will.

Remus's mind races with innate thought, and he tries to focus on just the Change. Muscles throughout his body knot and convulse; bones shatter and reform. He feels the familiar Change of his hands and feet, and his back arches, his spine cracking and bones growing to form a tail. He howls before the last painful seconds of the Change, and his ears jerk as Padfoot howls with him.

He rests on his side on the ground, panting heavily, for several minutes before Padfoot bounds over. Padfoot whines and nudges Moony, licking his muzzle. Moony runs his long tongue over Padfoot's muzzle in return, and stretches.

Padfoot blinks at Moony, and suddenly leaps with a spurt of energy into the woods. Moony follows. It's time for the race. They jostle for the lead, one gaining momentum only to lose it to the other.

They've travelled around two miles when Padfoot falls at Moony's heels, panting heavily. His pace slows, the trees and plants no longer unrecognisable blurs. Moony slides to a halt, waiting for Padfoot. They haven't gone far enough for Remus to endure the pain of the Change again. His yellow eyes dart from Padfoot to the forest and back to Padfoot. He dashes off.

Padfoot's lip curls in annoyance, and he's quick to follow Moony. The trees along the river bend are thick and pungent with the smells of nature, and it wills Padfoot to run faster.

Padfoot quickly catches Moony and pounces teasingly. The bag is dropped as they tumble through the dead leaves and twigs, Moony snapping at Padfoot but only catching a mass of air. Padfoot bounds from Moony, grabs the bag with his jaws, and takes the lead.

They reach a dell with a babbling brook passing through when they stop for their first rest. They had run for a few hours, and it was around two o'clock when their pace gradually began to slow. Padfoot laps deeply at the cool water, his ears twitching at a low growl that came from the Moony's direction.

Moony bares his teeth, and Padfoot's eyes show his amusement. That growl he heard had came from Moony's stomach. They stare at each other; no words are needed for them to understand. Time to hunt.

Deer is a dangerous animal to hunt, and under normal circumstances they wouldn't hunt them. The dragon was not a normal circumstance. But this is. A small hare would suffice each of them, and they know this. Of course, Padfoot would rather hunt rat, but that's another story.

They run West until moonset, and both collapse from exhaustion next to the riverbed after drinking deeply. Padfoot whinges and nestles close to Moony, and Moony growls defensively. Perking his ears up, Padfoot trips to his feet and rests next to a large oak and low-growing plants. With his pink tongue rolled out, Padfoot's ribcage rises and falls with every breath.

Moony shudders beneath the uninvited rays of the early morning sun and closes his eyes. The Change from werewolf to human is less painful. Moony considers that it would hurt more if he could feel his legs--they're numb from the constant, forced running. Remus screams, raking his nails against the dirt, and soon the pain is over. Remus lays naked, cold water occasionally washing against his side as the river laps up in spurts against him.

Padfoot stares at Remus before he falls into a deep sleep.

Remus quickly follows.

When they fell asleep, the sun was beginning its journey across the sky. When they awaken, the sun's journey is half done. Padfoot wakes first, transforms back into a human, and shakes Remus to a conscious state. Remus shudders under Sirius's hands, his skin pale and unnaturally cold, but he remains asleep.

"Bloody hell, Remy, you're gonna catch your death out here," Sirius mutters, taking a cotton blanket from the bag and wrapping it around the sleeping wizard. He lies next to Remus, draping his arm over him and pulling him closer for warmth. Remus stirs, but remains in a sound sleep, a touch of drool dribbles from his open mouth.

Remus thought he had dreamt it, but when he woke, Sirius was curled up next to him, snoring softly. In his dream, Sirius was Sirius and Remus was himself. And they were together in the wilderness as they had been at Hogwarts. Back when things were easier. Removing the sleeping arm, Remus slides from his bed of dead undergrowth, wrapping the blanket around his waist. Searching the bag that was discarded against Sirius's back, Remus shoves a few strings of jerky into his mouth, washing then down with warm water.

"Remus?" Sirius slurs in his sleep, cracking open an eye.

"Over here, Sirius," Remus replies, chewing the salty meat loudly.

"What time is it?"

Remus shrugs, glancing up at the sun. "Around two, maybe three."

Sirius yawns, stretching his arms towards the sky. "So we have less than six hours to kill"--another yawn--"before we run again? Great, I opt for skinny-dipping. Need to bathe sometimes; I reek of blood and the forest." He rubs the sleep from his eyes and yawns a third time.

A faint smile crosses Remus's lips. "The water's freezing. Literally."

Sirius snorts. "Bah! A little cold water never killed anyone before! Well, it did. But that's not the point! There's a pond over there shaded with trees, it'd be perfect. Besides, I'm sure you'd be able to smell any Death Eaters that are approaching!" Sirius grins, amused with his sense of humour.

Remus agrees. Following Sirius, he leads them to the pond, and Remus can see first hand that he wasn't lying. The trees grow tall, casting shadows across the water and land. Vines link one to the other high above their heads, and moss grows to the North on the sides of stones. The water is crystal blue, darker and deeper in the centre. The sand is white-silver, and it's soft beneath their bare toes. He drops their supplies bag between the roots of some oak trees.

"This place is wonderful; how'd you know it was here?" Remus asks, glancing around in awe. He still clutches the blanket in his hands; the sun beats down on his bare, sculptured shoulders.

Sirius grins ear-to-ear. "I've known about it since I was a child. When I was dragged home from Hogwarts in the summer, me and some friends used to hang around here. We'd play football, swim, and drink. The perfect life for a teen, wouldn't you agree?" Sirius strips himself of his brown robes, the ones left unchanged from his Change, and tosses them over a low tree branch.

"Beats the summer life I had. I hated being separated from you, James, and Peter. All I had was Oz and Mother," Remus replies dryly, neatly folding the blanket and placing it next to one of the many trees. Many other friends may have felt uncomfortable in the presence of others while they are stark naked, but Remus and Sirius are more than friends. They're brothers.

"Oz was cool, so was Accalia," Sirius shrugs.

Remus frowns. Both his cousin and mother were murdered when he was sixteen.

"I would have hated being Peter, though," Sirius comments, recalling the better times they had with the fourth marauder. "His family lived on that run-down farmhouse. At least we had people we knew close to us; Peter was alone. Hey, do you suppose--" he trails off, unable to finish his sentence, the words catching in his throat.

Remus ignores the latter about Peter, and Sirius happily recalls James, changing the subject. "James might have had the shittiest luck of us all. Working full time over the summers at that . . . where'd he work again?"

"The Ministry, Sirius," Remus offers with an amused tone, and he dips a toe into the cold water. He swears he sees his toe turn blue, and chills surge through his body. "Bloody hell, it's colder than ice. I opt we boil it."

Either Sirius doesn't hear Remus's last statement, or he ignores it. "That's it, the Ministry. And that boss-lady he had . . . the one with the huge tits . . . what was her name again?" Sirius takes a few steps back, getting ready to take a running leap into the centre of the pond.

"I called her Peter's mum, what did you call her?"

Sirius smirks. "Yeah. Missus Pettigrew." Sirius takes that running leap, and immediately regrets it. Sinking into the water, he splashes up, spitting water from his mouth and pulling back his wet, black hair. "Sod it all! This water's freezing! Bloody hell, my boys have turned blue!" He paddles back to the shore. "What did you say about boiling the water?"

A smile cracks on Remus's lips, and his shoulders shake in suppressed chuckles. "Boiling water was the first spell Mother taught me, and heating a lake shouldn't be any more difficult." He removes his wand from one of the pouches on the supplies bag, and clears his throat for effect.

"Do you remember this spell?" jokes Sirius.

"Of course I do. It's . . . Caldor Aquarius!"

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, gradually, a malleable light emerges from Remus's wand, twisting towards the water in sudden dance moves. The mauve light adheres with the water of the pond, and Sirius tests it with his hand. Finding it satisfactory, he gives Sirius a thumbs up and a broad grin. With another running leap, Sirius splashes into the pond. Remus follows, cannon-balling into the water.

They dogpaddle beneath the overhanging trees and float on the water, letting the late afternoon sun wash over them. They drink deeply from the warm water, spitting it out in a fountain-like or sprinkler-like fashion. The bandage that's wrapped around Sirius's torso comes loose, and for the second time, Remus inspects his friend's wound.

It's only slightly inflamed, and thankfully not infected. The Ancient Magick Healing Charm that Remus performed helped quite a bit, and the burning sensation that plagued him while in human form has subsided. Remus washes the caked-on blood from Sirius's side as Sirius impatiently waits. Once finished, they continue joshing around, letting the cares of the world drip from their shoulders like the water.

With the sun beginning its nightly rest beyond the horizon, Sirius begins his wade back to the shoreline. An intense flash of the setting sun off steel startles him, and he watches, cursing inwardly, as a faction of Death Eaters stumble through the wilderness. Remus swims next to Sirius and opens his mouth to speak, but his words are quickly muffled as Sirius's hand covers his mouth.

"Shh!" he whispers. "Death Eaters."

But it's too late; one of the Death Eaters noticed the robes flung over the branches of the trees and has come to investigate. Both Sirius and Remus curse themselves for not paying more attention. They should have heard the troop walking through the woods; they weren't exactly quiet.

"Sir," comes the urgent voice of one of the Death Eaters. Remus recognises him as Seamus Finnigan, an old student when he was professor at Hogwarts. "You had better come and see this." He pokes at the nondescript robes with his dagger, lifting them from the branch.

"They won't bite you, Finnigan," the commander's voice comes as he steps to inspect the Death Eater's findings. The commanding wizard of the Blue border patrol is a tall, thin man with long fingers. His jet-black hair is long and pulled loosely back into a ponytail, and his eyes are the colour of storm clouds rolling in. His features are defined and complexion pale. Benjamin Lestrange is a man of his early forties, but it doesn't show.

The fair-haired Death Eater frowns. "You never know, Sir. Travis once found a few scarabs in his bed robes," Seamus replies, his Irish brogue strong.

Remus and Sirius hold their breath, praying that the shrubbery neighbouring the pond will serve as an adequate shield. "Can you count how many there are?" Sirius whispers to his partner, the cold chill of breeze goose bumping his bare skin.

"Five, maybe six."

Sirius nods. "Not bad odds. We could easily take them out."

Remus gnaws his lower lip, glancing apprehensively around. "Sirius, I don't think we should," he murmurs, remembering back to their commander's speech about honour and death songs. So deep are his thoughts that he doesn't hear the cracking of twigs signaling someone's approach.

"You're damn right you shouldn't," a voice sounds above them, and fearfully, Sirius and Remus draw their eyes towards the voice. Benjamin stands over them, his wand prepared to cast the deathblow if they even think about moving. "Well, well, well. Look what we have here. Two lost little boys. You are now my prisoners. Stand with your arms in the air."

Steadily, Sirius and Remus stand, their arms awkwardly above their heads. Their skin burns hot with anger and humiliation, and Remus's first thought is of his blanket resting not ten feet away. His second thought is of their young commander and friend, and that they failed him. And Remus's third thought is of death. His death. Sirius's death.

"Fuck," echoes through the woods. Sirius recognises the voice as his own. "I wish we'd kept that dragon."