Chapter 121: Saturday, May 2, 1998
Remus was parched.
He was a host of other things as well. Exhausted, aching, angry, terrified, and at his wits fucking end. But, above all else, he was dying for a glass of cool water.
He sprinted as fast as his tired legs would carry him, across the demolished grounds of Hogwarts, dodging curses that zoomed by in every direction. His heart hammered in his chest, the beat thundering in his ears as the blood rushed through his veins. He could hardly see a thing through the thick layers of smoke and fog that hung heavy and acrid in the air. His eyes burned from it, but wiping the sting away was futile. They'd be watering again within seconds with the way the eastern wing of the castle was blazing. His stomach sank at the thought of the ruin his beloved school would be in by the time this was all over. If it ever fucking ended.
He heard a shriek from somewhere on his left, a cry from a group of students who fought valiantly for their lives. He closed his eyes, swallowing down the anger that threatened to overcome him. They were children. Far too young to be witnessing the people they loved ripped apart by blasting curses, giants, and the callous killings of Death Eaters who didn't care that they were massacring teenagers. He felt Moony come to the front of his mind, making his eyesight sharpen. With a flourish, he threw a Bombarda toward the Death Eaters that closed in on the group, watching with some satisfaction as the ground exploded beneath the hooded figures.
Twenty years.
This war had gone on twenty fucking years and goddammit, he was ready for an end. He didn't know how he made it through the first time around—everything from those few years felt like a blur in his mind. Chunks of time buried beneath alcohol fueled grief and misery. Occasionally, he could remember glimpses of his time in the Order. Happier moments came to him when he needed them most. A snowball fight on New Years Eve, making bets with Sirius at the hospital when James was thrown from Lily's room the day Harry was born, a surprise birthday party, a tiny Italian restaurant in Hampstead…
But even then, they were just blips of his subconscious, more of a feeling than a memory. It was like the actual memory of those times had been sealed in a box, a hastily written label describing it slapped over the lid. Nothing that he could fully recall with clarity.
What he could remember, stronger than any happiness or giddiness, was love.
So, he continued to fight through the shit years he was given after James and Lily were killed. He fought for every single step he took that led him to where he was standing right now. He fought his heart out as he infiltrated wolf packs again. He fought viciously, without apology, alongside Sirius a few short years more. Now that he was the last of them standing, the last of the people he'd cared for above all others, he fired off Killing Curses ruthlessly at Death Eaters who were torturing kids he once taught. And, with desperate, clinging fingers, he held onto the feeling of love that swelled his mangled heart when he tried to remember the past.
There had been so much of it—he was sure of that. It may be buried deeply and forgotten like the exact cadence of James' voice or which side of Sirius' mouth would lift in a smirk. He could no longer recall the exact way Lily's fingers felt when they pushed his hair from his forehead or how his mum took her tea. But, goddammit, he knew it had all been there at one time. And maybe, if he fought hard enough, he could have it again.
"Professor Lupin!"
Remus whirled around at the terrified scream of his name to see a young Ravenclaw student waving him down from behind a crumbled wall. Her long blonde hair was filthy with dirt and blood and she looked as exhausted as he felt, but her eyes remained bright and fierce.
"Luna?" Remus shouted, bounding toward her. "Luna, what's wrong?"
"My leg!" she motioned toward the limb in question—which was pinned beneath the stone. "I can't get it out!"
"I've got you," he promised, waving his wand to lift the stone and send it hurtling into the onslaught in hopes it would take out an enemy or two along the way. "I know a few healing charms. Let me—"
"I've got it from here," she assured him. "I'm quite proficient with healing charms, sir. Thank you."
She began moving her wand over her leg, her bones snapping back into place as she hissed through her teeth. Remus covered her, unwilling to leave the girl by herself as vulnerable as she was with a broken leg.
"Not as good as new, but it will do for now," she said, rolling her ankle a few times before gripping the wall to heave herself up to her feet. She stood with her feet shoulder width apart, her wand clutched tightly in her small fist and let out an astonishingly loud shriek of fury. Bellowing into the air to add to the chaos of the sounds around them.
Remus jolted, stumbling backward to look at her with wide eyes. "Luna, are you—"
"Oh, I'm quite well Professor," she smiled. "I find that letting it out into the world helps me center my thoughts. Good luck, sir. Stay safe."
With that, she leapt over the wall and back into the throng, charging headfirst into the battle. Remus watched her disappear beneath the veil of smoke, utterly bewildered. Hearing her scream into the atmosphere had felt so disturbingly familiar to him.
The minutes seemed to drag on as the fight continued, with bodies dropping rapidly around them. Remus had made his way further across the grounds, fighting with next to no coverage from the decimated landscape around him. To his left, Kingsley Shacklebolt shouted curses and hexes that were more complex than even Remus knew. To his right, Charlie and Tonks worked to hold off the Giants, trapping them with thin, fiery ropes that bursted from the ends of their wands.
Remus swallowed, pitifully attempting to restore moisture to his sand-paper tongue, as he took a moment to catch his breath. His entire body ached; his head swimming from lack of clean oxygen. Both sides were losing numbers quicker than either would care to admit and the night was unforgiving with its painted black sky. Even the moon hid its face from the carnage.
Remus heard the movement coming from behind them before any of the others and spun around, digging his feet into the upturned earth in an effort to keep his balance. There were half a dozen Death Eaters stampeding toward them, firing deadly looking curses that sizzled through the air like the fires of hell. Remus surged forward, casting powerful shield charms in quick succession, calling for back up over his shoulder.
"Wotcher, Remus!" Tonks shouted above the cacophony, "The Giants are contained for the time being. We need to move!"
"We're surrounded," Remus choked out, sweat clouding his vision. His chest heaved, struggling to catch a clean breath.
"Nothing we can't handle!" Tonks said with a luminosity Remus wish he had.
"Always the optimist," Remus quipped, firing off a few heavy hitting stunners. One of them hit a large man, sending him flying backward.
"Have to be! No point in fighting if I think we're gonna lose and I—"
"TONKS LOOK OUT!" Kingsley's voice boomed through the air, cutting off her next words. Remus swiveled in time to see a lethal purple streak hurtling towards Tonks.
In a split second decision he did the only thing he could think to do and leapt in front of her, shoving her hard out of the way and onto the ground.
The curse hit his chest, sending him to his knees. His lungs felt like they were on fire. He began choking, his windpipe felt like it was being gripped in a vice and turned to ash. He felt hands on his shoulders, could hear the shouting of his friends around him, though he couldn't make sense of their words. Remus blinked rapidly and tucked his chin to look down at his chest. His shirt and robes were turning dark at an alarming rate. He opened his mouth to say something, to give his last words of thanks and affection for the people by his side. Instead, a wheezy gurgle spilled past his blood coated lips.
His body felt hot; his limbs too heavy to hold up. The grounds around him tunneled, small pops of light swimming in and out of his field of vision. He fell forward and as his face hit the grass and his vision went black, a soft, familiar voice rang in his head.
"Blackbird singing in the dead of night. Take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life...you were always waiting for this moment to arise."
Remus padded out into the kitchen, the linoleum flooring cold on his bare feet. He shoved up the sleeves of the well worn jumper he had thrown on over his sleep shirt and pulled an old apron off the hook by the back door. Tying it snugly around his waist, he began pulling the flour, sugar, and cinnamon out from the spice cabinet above the hob.
There was something to be said about waking before the sun.
Remus had never been much of a night person. Given his affliction, he never felt the pull to admire the stars or the light of the moon on a warm summer night. But, waking up before the birds began to chirp and watching as the first hints of gold and pink broke through the indigo horizon always filled him with comfort. Mornings meant a new day. Mornings meant safety.
His bones still ached from the transformation two days before, but he couldn't bring himself to do much more than acknowledge the pain internally and then promptly ignore it. Pain had become such an integrated part of his life.
He used to spend hours fantasizing what it would be like to wake up without stiff joints. To be able to climb every step in Hogwarts without wincing by the time he got to the top because his knees had swelled halfway there. He used to wonder if others his age had knots in their back so vicious that it felt like bludgers had been implanted beneath their shoulder blades. But now, he simply accepted that—much like every other facet of his life—his pain was unknown by his peers. He could tell, in the way James could run for miles without needing a break, that his knees were stable. The way Sirius danced at the pub, twisting this way and that, proved his hips were able to move and sway without a painful hitch. The way Peter was able to sleep, in any strangely curled up position, showed that he did not have the ache of knots in his back.
Just another lovely perk of being a werewolf—premature arthritis and body aches that lasted all of eternity.
Remus dusted the counter with flour and began to knead the soft ball of dough he had stirred together as his thoughts wandered.
Although the body pains and the constant fury of Moony in his head drove him to insanity at times, he had to admit that there were perks, too.
For instance, he may not have the endurance or physical agility of James or Sirius, but he was faster than either of them and much stronger. He also never had to worry too much about a critical injury. His lycanthropy granted him a faster healing ability and an insanely high pain tolerance. And really, Moony wasn't all that bad.
Well, when he wasn't calling him a cunt and telling him to just do them both a favor and throw himself off a broom.
He had to admit that having heightened senses was also a massive advantage. Especially in the throes of war. A keen sense of sight and hearing had saved his arse more times than he could count. He'd never cared much for the heightened sense of smell, before. It made things difficult sometimes, particularly when sharing a dormitory with three other teenage boys while he was at Hogwarts. The smells that came from his friends at times had been enough to put his foot down and insist that James and Sirius must shower after every quidditch practice or match. And "no, Peter, absolutely you can not eat that! It is expired!" had probably saved his friend from food poisoning on at least ten occasions.
But, now, the sense of smell was becoming one of his favourites.
After sifting through the strange scents that seemed to linger in the air no matter where he went, he found comfort in the familiar ones. The smell of things baking, his mothers perfume, James' sunday roast, Hermione's shampoo…
They all seemed to instantly calm him when he felt too agitated to think properly.
Just as he began to place the little rolled buns on a baking sheet and the sun had broken through the night completely, he heard the water of the shower begin to pelt the porcelain tub. He took a slow breath in through his nose and closed his eyes, revelling in the coconut and vanilla scent he'd come to love.
Remus truly couldn't imagine his life without Hermione in it.
She was perfect for him, in every single way. She challenged him intellectually, had a great sense of humor, but knew when it was time to table it and focus on important matters at hand. She was a problem solver—but not in the way he was used to seeing from his friends. She didn't rear up at the chance to go running into battle and carve her name into anyone who stood in her way. She was far more calculated than that, and Remus respected her so much for it. He was becoming less reckless with his own life, being around her.
His life was worth something now.
He'd always struggled to understand what James had meant when he said he couldn't breathe without Lily. The very idea that your basic physiology would fail without someone else was not only biologically impossible, but it seemed ridiculous to rely so heavily on another person. But now? Now, he understood.
His chest didn't hold the same tightness it once did. His heartbeat felt stronger—because it beat for her. Every thump in his chest was a reminder that he was hers and she was his and she loved him back—despite his affliction or personality quirks or ridiculously long limbs. She loved him.
And Merlin, did he love her.
Remus took a peek inside the oven and a small smile graced his lips. Chelsea Buns rising nicely, he indulged in his ability to hear what most people couldn't and listened to Hermione's easy breaths as she showered. Maybe it was strange, he thought, to invade her privacy in that way. But, he couldn't help himself sometimes. He liked the little hums she did as she scraped her nails against her scalp the most. It was one of the only times she sounded blissfully content, and it was a wonderful thing for her. She deserved a comfortable, content life. She deserved so much more than the life Remus would ever be able to give her. But, fuck, if she didn't make him want to try.
The sound of the water cut off and Remus busied himself tidying up the kitchen. He let his mind wander as he washed the bowls and cleared the counters of flour. About ten minutes later, he pulled the freshly baked Chelsea Buns from the oven, sighing at the warm, cinnamon scent that filled the air. He had long taken to understand that the life he led would often mean squeezing whatever happiness he could manage out of it and fresh baked goods were definitely a point of joy for him.
Even more so when he felt Hermione's arms wrap around his waist from behind, the side of her face pressed to his back.
"You were up early," she observed, her words muffled slightly by his jumper.
"I could say the same of you," he replied, resting his hands over hers.
She hummed and gave him a little squeeze around the middle. "What are your plans for the day?"
"I'm going to see my mum and dad for a bit," he began. "And then Sirius asked me to come help him with some charmwork to get that bloody bike in the air."
Hermione groaned, "He's going to fall out of the sky and get himself killed."
"Why do you think he's asked me to help him instead of doing it all himself?"
Her arms pulled away and Remus immediately missed the warmth of her pressed against him. Thankfully, it wasn't long before she wedged herself between his body and the counter, pushing up on her toes to place a kiss on the underside of his jaw.
"Probably a good thing."
Remus chuckled, "Did you want to come along?"
She pulled back and looked up at him, chocolate eyes crinkling at the corners as she scrunched her nose up and shook her head. "As much as I like your parents, I have a few brews I need to get finished and bottled and I want no part in helping Sirius with that death trap."
Remus stooped lower to steal a kiss, smiling a bit against her mint-tingling lips. "I'll give mum and dad your love and tell Sirius to fuck off for you."
Hermione's head fell backward as she barked out a laugh, her wild, damp curls tumbling further down her back. "I love you."
"I love you, too."
His arms wound their way around her again, pulling her against him so that he could bury his face in her damp hair for a moment. He felt her relax into him, swaying slightly in this lovely little dance as they remained quiet for a time. Finally, she sighed and brought her hands to his chest, gently pushing him backwards.
"Go shower and see your parents. If you keep this up, you'll be here all day and not get anything done."
He let out a dramatic sigh, "I think I'm okay with that."
Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Go. Shower."
He chuckled, leaning down to kiss her head. He untied his apron, pulling it from his waist. Hermione tugged it from his hand to hang on the hook and then began busying herself with a cup of coffee while he made his way down the hall, into the bathroom.
Remus shut the door behind him and began to strip out of his pyjamas. The steam from Hermione's shower lingered sweet and heavy in the air. He brushed his teeth and spat the foam into the sink, looking up to the mirror to inspect the new scar he'd gotten across his cheek during the last full moon. He shuffled closer, his hips pressed against the counter, his face only a few inches from his reflection. It was...off, somehow.
It was definitely still him, that much he could tell. The scars that cut across his face were there, as was the mop of wavy hair… But, even that was slightly more grey at the temples. Shaggier than he'd been the previous day, unkempt almost.
He prodded his face with his fingertips, inching closer to the mirror to inspect it. The slight boyish roundness that had been there was gone, replaced with hollowed cheeks and eyes that bore circles that spoke of an amazing lack of sleep. One he certainly didn't feel after a full night's rest next to Hermione in a comfortable bed. His lips were chapped and his jaw held more scruff than he could feel against his finger tips. He squinted his eyes, looking closely at them.
They were completely gold.
He felt his own eyes widen, however, the reflection did not reciprocate the action. Instead, the golden eyes of this strange, grizzled Remus remained narrowed in observation. Scrutiny, almost. As Remus brought his hand to the mirror to touch the glass, the reflected version of himself remained still, his arms hanging at his sides.
Remus blinked twice and straightened his spine, his full height should have cut the top of his head from the reflection, but the man staring back stayed where he was. Remus kept his eyes on him, opening his mouth to shout for Hermione. The reflection's hands came through the mirror and grabbed the sides of his face, forcing Remus to lock eyes with the golden stare as this version of him opened his mouth to speak in a familiar, growling voice.
"Wake up."
.
.
a/n: I'm baaaack. I know it was quite a long hiatus from this story, I'm sorry I made you wait! Updates might be a little more sporadic than you're used to with this one. I'm prepared to post once weekly, but I'm not sure on the day yet. It'll honestly just depend on my schedule for work.
One more important thing to note: The format for the dates are going to begin to change in the next few chapters. Instead of having the actual day, I'll only be posting the month and year (you'll see why soon). I just didn't want to throw anyone off. 3
Anyway, I hope you've all had an amazing holiday season. Happy New Year. See you next week.
xoxo
(PS, come chat with me on twitter. mimifreed)
