Chapter 128: August 1998

"Without accepting the other person's thinking, you cannot further your own interest. You need the other's help to get results."

-Harri Holkeri


Remus' skin felt hot and itchy—too tight around his frame like it would burst the moment his muscles finally uncramped. He and Mika had traveled further south, looking for a safe place to transform and the moon was only a day away. His head was throbbing and he could feel Moony pacing in his mind, snapping jaws and gnashing teeth. Eager to rip him in half and take to the woods after being locked in an old warehouse for the last full moon. Remus was on the ground, struggling to find enough energy to keep his eyes open any longer, watching a few beetles intently as they pushed their way through the dirt and leaves.

Mika, on the other hand, was livelier than she had ever been. She whooped and hollered happily—loudly—as she climbed a massive birch tree. Her bare feet and dirty fingernails dug into the bark as she practically scaled the damn thing. When she reached a high branch, she perched comfortably on it, letting her legs swing back and forth.

"How do you have so much energy?" Remus complained, the effort of shouting the words almost enough to make his head finally explode.

Mika let out a bark of a laugh, practically leaping down from the high branch to gracefully land next to Remus' heap. "You spend all your energy tryin' to contain your wolf. If you'd loosen up and just live a little, it wouldn't make you so tired."

"Rubbish," Remus grumbled.

"It's not," Mika insisted, planting herself cross-legged next to him. "What's your wolf doin' right now? Really focus on it."

Remus glared at her but she only nodded encouragingly. He rolled his eyes and then shut them, trying to focus on Moony.

Moony, who was furious and stalking in brain, growling bitter insults at him.

Useless pillock

Lazy cunt

Stupid fleshy bastard

"He's calling me a lazy cunt and pacing around like he's about to pounce on a rabbit," Remus answered.

Mika burst out in laughter and Remus pulled himself upright, narrowing his eyes at her.

"That's your problem," Mika said, as if that solved everything.

"My wolf hates me. Yeah, that's been established already, thanks."

"No, no. You idiot," she said, almost fondly. "You hate him. You're the wolf and the wolf if you, you aren't two completely different people. Everything he says to you is just…recycled bullshit you've said to yourself. Except, apparently a bit harsher."

"Fairly certain I don't think of myself as a lazy cunt," Remus deadpanned.

"You don't?" Mika countered, "Because the way I see it, you're constantly rushin' and going on about how you need to be doin' something."

"Because I do need to be doing something. A lot of somethings. There's loads of research I need to do, I need to figure out how to find the bloody fountain and then I need to somehow become a master potioneer to create—"

"I'm gonna stop you right there," Mika held up a hand. "Because you're just provin' my point. You have this ever-growing list in your head. You're constantly thinkin' about the next move, the next thing you have to do. You live like you're still in a war."

"We are still in a war. I told you, the peace that we're feeling now isn't going to last for long. The minute Dolohov regroups, people are going to start fighting again."

"But," Mika put a heavy emphasis on the 't', little bits of spit flew out past her lips, spraying the ground between them. "You've never stopped fighting. When you aren't fighting to save the wizards, you're fighting yourself. You hate yourself so much you can't stop fighting even when there's nothin' to fight. So, why do you hate yourself so much?"

If it were anyone else, he'd deny it again. He'd placate whoever he was talking to, reassure them he didn't hate himself. He was just tired, or hungry, or some combination of the two. He'd try and smooth it over, make his loathing easier to swallow. He'd do what he'd always done. Try to make his six-and-a-half foot frame as small as possible and shrink himself down to be more digestible, more acceptable for the people around him.

It had started young, now that he really thought about it. Right after he realized what it meant to be a werewolf. Right after he'd come home from St Mungo's after being bitten and having the healers tell his parents it would be kinder to just let him die. They'd thought he was asleep. Or delirious. Or maybe, they thought he was so young he wouldn't know what it meant or that he wouldn't remember the words.

He remembered them.

He remembered coming home and waiting anxiously for the first full moon after. His dad had pulled him from the muggle primary school he had been attending, afraid he'd accidentally hurt another child. His mum stopped working, stayed home to teach him maths and reading, marking the days on the calendar with a strong-smelling red marker. He could remember feeling afraid and angry. Full of so much rage he didn't know how his small body could hold it. He'd play the Healer's words on repeat in his head, over and over, like a mantra.

"Mrs Lupin, I know this is hard for you to understand but it would be kinder to him and the community as a whole to let the boy expire."

Expire.

Like old milk hidden in a bottle in the back of the refrigerator. Sour and curdled. And with every passing moon, his body betrayed him. His mind lost to the fury of the beast inside and he'd wake in the morning in a pool of his own blood and piss and listen to his mother sob as his father healed him with a blank face. And then, when he could stand on his own two feet again and think clearly, he'd resolved to be as easy as possible.

He was never overly rebellious as a young child. He'd gotten into the occasional tiff with his parents, of course, but it was nothing that a few stern words from his father or a look of disappointment from his mother couldn't smooth over. As he'd gotten older, he'd taken it upon himself to stay quiet and keep to himself. He'd had friends when he was a little. A small boy a few houses over called Roger who he'd played in the park with for hours in the summer as their mums met to talk about whatever it was that mums talked about. There was a girl—Carmella, he recalled—who he had met in primary school that would come to the playground and chase Remus and Roger around until they'd all gotten too tired and would sit by a tree and dig in the dirt or make fake swords with sticks.

After his sixth transformation, he'd stopped asking to go to the playground. Roger's mum stopped calling the house to speak with his own mum. Carmella no longer came by to ask if Remus could come out and play until the sun went down. And Remus knew it was because of what he was. Roger and Carmella, of course, had no idea that he'd been attacked by a werewolf. But, Remus knew that they could tell he was different now. A monster. Like one of the scary stories they had told one another on Halloween.

His father could barely look at him with each passing month. His mother wasn't as affectionate as she had once been. He could remember the way she would hold his face between her palms and kiss every inch of it, singing old Welsh folk songs to him and laughing as he giggled and tried to push her away. By the age of nine, Remus had spent so many days regretting every time he'd push her face from his. He'd wanted nothing more than to feel her palms on his cheeks and see a smile curl on her lips.

And it continued on.

The older he got, the more likable he tried to make himself. He was well-read and quick-witted because no one liked to be in a conversation with someone stupid. He took care of his hair and his skin as best he could because he didn't want to make himself look any more unapproachable than he already was. He wore nothing but neutral clothes, both for necessity in lack of funds to buy anything more stylish and because he didn't want anyone to get the idea that he thought he was better than them because he wore new boots or fancy jumpers. He did well in his classes at Hogwarts and he knew he could be top of the class if he put more effort into it, but he didn't want to upset anyone else who was working hard to get there.

He'd spent his entire fucking life placating everyone around him because he was terrified of anyone hating him the way he hated himself.

Until Hermione.

Hermione had sped into his life and blown his outer shell to bits. She'd pulled at loose threads and didn't flinch when he'd yelled or stormed off because he was angry. She'd asked him questions that no one else had ever thought to ask. Not even his friends, who loved him dearly, had asked him personal questions about Moony.

And she held his face between her palms and didn't care that it was bloodied, scarred and bruised.

Hermione had never asked him to placate her—had never expected it of him. Quite the opposite, really. She'd push and prod until he'd just come out with whatever he was holding back. And she would tell him over and over that she loved him. And not only that she loved him but that he deserved love.

He wasn't a monster to her, he was just Remus.

Remus took in a slow breath, his eyes prickling with tears. He sniffed, wiping his face with the back of his hand. Mika stared at him, her dark eyes bright with curiosity, her head tilted to one side as she observed him.

"I hate myself," Remus whispered reluctantly, his voice shaky. "Because I'm a monster."

Mika bit back a smile and shook her head, "You're dramatic, is what you are."

Remus swallowed, coughing a bit to clear his throat. "After I was bitten, the Healers told my mum to just let me die."

"Harsh."

Remus hummed, nodding. "I think that I knew even that young, that my life was going to be horrible compared to what it should have been."

"Ah, see? There's your problem," Mika pointed at him, "You dwell on all the things that should have been. All these things you think would be different if you weren't a werewolf? It's rubbish. D'you wanna know why?"

"You'd tell me even if I didn't want to know."

"That's true," Mika agreed. "But, I think you wanna know. It's rubbish because the reason you are who you are is because of what you hate the most. You spent your entire life tryin' to fix yourself because of the wolf. If the wolf wasn't there, you'd probably be some arsehole who spent his life achievin' nothing."

"I am literally homeless and I ate lunch that I stole out of a bin."

"But you're smart and you're funny. And you're wicked talented at magic—like proper talented. D'you think you'd be as good with a wand if you didn't have to prove yourself to those other twats? Plus, you have a mate. And that, my dear friend, is worth every transformation you've gone through in your sixty-eight years of life."

"Thirty-eight."

"That's what I said."

Remus huffed out a laugh and shook his head, "It all sounds good when you spell it out like that. But, it isn't that simple."

"Isn't it?" Mika shuffled around, moving to sit directly in front of him, their knees touching. "Gimme your hands."

He eyed her warily, unsure of where she was going with this. She flailed her hands insistently, staring at him with raised brows and lips pressed in an impatient line. Remus rolled his eyes and felt his shoulders slump as he conceded, taking her small hands in his. She rocked from side to side, settling into her position, and lowered their clasped hands between them.

"Close your eyes," she ordered.

Remus obliged. In the few months since he'd met Mika, he'd come to the conclusion that it was much easier to just go along with whatever insane thing she was trying to get him to do to 'get in touch with his wolf'. It wasn't as if it did any harm to let Moony snarl at him a little more than usual and it had yet to have any effect on Remus beyond that. He wasn't sure what Mika expected to happen—that he would just close his eyes and all of the sudden transform?—but, he'd humor her anyway. At least if she was trying to 'induce a meditative state' she was generally calm and quiet; which proved a fabulous break from the usual constant ball of energy.

"Have you ever given over to your wolf before?" Mika asked.

"Why would I do that?"

She huffed, "I'm not saying transform out of cycle and go Muggle hunting for sport, Remus. I mean, have you ever just let him in? Let him strengthen you and take over for a while?"

"Do you think that's wise?"

"I mean unless you just really enjoy feeling like shit all the time…?" She squeezed his hand in a friendly show of trust, "Let me show you."

"Show me—"

"Shh!"

Remus opened his eyes to glare at her for a second before closing them again, feeling completely confused and a little stupid. He listened, waiting for Mika to give him some sort of mind palace or inner peace speech. Instead, she remained silent, focussing on her breath. He decided to do the same, matching her slow, rhythmic inhales.

After a few moments of this, he felt Moony begin to get agitated, pacing around his mind. It felt similar to searching for something that had been recently in his hand; urgent and flustered. In a sudden wave, a feeling of calm washed over him, stopping Moony's aggravated snarls abruptly.

Remus felt his brows knit together as his mind slowed and his body began to feel warm and tingly all over. His thoughts narrowed down from the constant stream of self-ridicule and overwhelming stress to a gentle pull of basic instinct. He could see Moony in his head, a slow, approving smile creeping over his face.

I like this one.

You do?

She is good for you. Pack.

I know.

With each controlled breath, Remus felt himself loosen, falling deeper into the feeling of warmth that vibrated inside of him. Moony came nearer now, pulling himself up from the shadows of his mind to stand in the light.

Look at me.

Remus focused, facing the embodiment he'd pictured for so long, the part he'd been so afraid to acknowledge. He was broad and strong, shoulders squared and spine straight. Without snarling or snapping at him, Remus thought Moony looked confident and able.

I can help.

I don't want your help.

You may not want it, but you need it.

"Stop arguing with yourself and let him take over," Mika whispered. "It'll be easier on all of us."

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a/n: Today is Remus' birthday! So, it felt appropriate to update haha. Thanks again for bearing with me through the slower updates. I'm working on some original stuff, so fanfic is taking a bit of a backseat while I do that. I appreciate you for keeping up and reading anyway though. You guys are the best.

xo