Chapter 137: December 1998

"Before I can accept someone's help, I must accept their presence."

-Lawrence Fagg


When Remus was nine, he contracted an influenza virus. Up to this point in his life, he'd always been under the impression that because he was magical, he couldn't really get sick. Not in the way his mother could, or the way the kids he used to play with at the play parks could. He'd been relatively healthy—if he didn't look too closely at the side effects of having a beast ravaging his body every month.

Unbeknownst to his young mind, there was a plethora of magical diseases, aside from the one that already had a hold on him, that a person could contract. And, a nasty virus known as "Pixie Flu" was one of them. He'd spent days wrapped in heavy blankets, shivering uncontrollably as he sweated simultaneously. His teeth chattered every time he opened his mouth and his skin had turned a strange shade of blue.

During his bout with PIxie Flu, Remus' fever-addled mind created a series of horrible, terrifying, vivid dreams that followed him in and out of consciousness. As his fever climbed, attempting to boil him from the inside, his mind unleashed a myriad of strange scenarios. Things that ranged from ripping his own skin off with half-transformed claws to swimming in the ocean with merpeople and becoming one of them.

As Remus lay in bed, his skin hot to the touch as Moony snarled and whined in the back of his head, he was reminded of his childhood bout of sickness.

Moony was working to force his way through his skin, though it was nowhere near the full moon. His entire body tingled with it—itching impossibly as if Moony's fur was working it's way through every pore. The beast howled and paced in his head, chastising and belittling Remus. Screaming over and over:

Accept, accept, accept.

He'd fought it for so long.

His entire life, Remus fought back. He'd been determined to prove he could be a contributing member of society. He'd been set on never allowing his wolf to make calls for him. He'd suffered at his own hands, his own stubbornness, for well over thirty years. And now, he was losing the battle. He could feel it; Moony was making himself impossible to ignore. He was controlling his magic, he was funnelling a feral rage into his mind, making him physically ill from the strength of it.

Moony, it seemed, had had enough.

"You look fuckin' terrible, mate," Mika said as she waltzed in from the grocer, her arms laden with paper bags filled with food.

"How did you…?"

"Nicked a card off some rich bloke in the line," she shrugged, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Which, considering everything Remus knew about Mika, it really should have been.

"I feel bloody terrible," Remus agreed.

Mika dropped the bags on the table and disappeared from sight for a moment. Remus could hear the creak of cupboards and the running of the tap before she reappeared with a glass of water for him.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it," she waved him off. "But, I think I know why you're so sick."

Remus downed the water, hoping to drown whatever fire was burning inside of him.

"Do you?"

She nodded, folding herself in the armchair across from him, her head tilted in thought.

"It usually happens to new wolves, but I suppose you were turned so young…yours probably just listened to you for a long time."

"What are you on about?"

"Well, when I was first turned, I got sick like this after a few months. Most of us do—it's pretty normal. They call it rejection sickness in the packs. It's what usually kills the muggles they try to turn."

"You think I'm dying?" Remus asked, equal parts horrified and relieved.

Mika shook her head, "No. I think you've rejected your wolf for so long and he's finally decided to do somethin' about it. You can only take from him so much before he starts to take back, you know?"

"No. No, Mika, I do not know."

She rolled her eyes, "That's because you're a bit thick when it comes to this part of things."

Remus scoffed, immediately regretting the action when it forced a deep cough from his chest. Once he finally caught his breath, his eyebrows furrowed together.

"You were a muggle when you were turned, by that logic, shouldn't you be dead?"

"I said usually," she deadpanned. "Unlike a lot of the other non-magical people, I quite fancied the idea of being this thing that I'd only heard about in story books. I accepted the wolf pretty quickly once she showed me what she could do."

"You're saying he's killing me because he's tired of being caged away?"

"He's forcing you to finally make a fuckin' decision, Remus. And, I'm guessin', it has something to do with the fact that you were so close to your mate three days ago."

"I was barely near her."

"It was long enough to take her to her knees," Mika reasoned. "I reckon that's long enough to throw your wolf into a frenzy."

Remus leaned back against the pillows, letting his weakened body sink further into the cushions.

It had started at the Ministry. The moment he'd seen Hermione Granger slashing her wand through the air, his magic convulsed violently within him. He'd duelled and fought as hard as he could, but he'd been unable to pull himself out of her orbit. And, the second he grabbed Mika's elbow and disapparated back to Godric's Hollow, he'd hit the ground and vomited. He'd been writhing with fever ever since. His dreams had been nothing but Hermione for days—memories of their time together years ago mixed with new, heinous images of her dead body in his arms.

From the moment he'd stepped back into their home, Moony had been furiously screaming accept at him.

Accept what? He finally asked, his mind reeling with what Mika had just told him.

Me, you fool. We're dying, do you not feel it? Of course, you wouldn't because you're a fucking idiot. We're dying and if you don't accept my magic, there's nothing more I can do.

You saved me once before.

And, it has weakened me!

Remus felt his chest throb and he quickly shoved the blankets down to his waist, paying no mind to Mika as he ripped his shirt off of his torso, flinging it to the floor.

Mika was on her feet in a flash, her face screwed up in confusion and disgust.

"What the fuck is that?"

His skin began to tug apart, the gristle of sinewy muscle showing through as a black spot of burning rot flared at the edges of the wound. He doubled over, tears streaming from his face as blood began to seep through the magical burn, singeing his stomach as it dripped down toward his hips.

"Fuck," Remus ground out, panic making his throat tight. "Fuck."

"What's happening?" Mika asked, her eyes wide. "Where's your wand? Can I get your wand or—or one of those potions you drink? What can I—"

"Nothing," Remus sobbed. "Nothing will work."

Accept my magic you fucking tit.

"I don't know how," Remus answered aloud. "What do you want me to do?"

"It's rejection sickness, isn't it?" Mika asked, her voice shaking. "It's undoing all the magic your wolf has done to keep you together, isn't it?"

"Fuck," Remus shouted, thrashing on the sofa. "I accept. I accept it. I accept you. I don't know what else I have to do!"

You have to mean it.

"You have to mean it, Remus, you can't just say it."

Mika had his shirt in her hands, applying pressure to the wound, trying to staunch the bleeding. Her face was blotchy from tears and her hands were covered in his blood, but she looked more determined than Remus had ever seen her. With crimson hands, she cupped his face, forcing his attention onto her.

"Listen to me, old man, think of what will happen if you let yourself reject the wolf. Don't think of any other consequences, do you understand me? That girl of yours is going to die if you reject, you know that, don't you? If you die, it will weaken her magic because of the bond you have—because she's your mate. If you die now, all of the good she's done will be unravelled. I know you don't want that."

"No, no I don't."

"Then listen very closely to me, Remus Lupin. You will accept your wolf, you will accept the magic and the healing he has so generously provided you with to keep your sorry arse alive. You will not leave Hermione in the middle of a war in a magically weakened state. And, you can't leave me, either."

He closed his eyes, letting memories flood through his mind. Flashes of Hermione laughing with her nose scrunched up and her head thrown back. The way her hand felt on his chest while she slept. The sound of her voice as she sang Blackbird under her breath, not realizing he could hear her. The look in her eyes when she told him she loved him. The way his magic sang when she was near, the energy it offered him to be close to her.

He thought of Mika and her rough accent, constantly offering words of wisdom hidden behind the wall of a snarky comment or joke. The way she'd single-handedly held him together for months, selflessly offering her help to him for something she barely understood. The companionship—the friendship—she'd given him so willingly, when she had so little to give.

He thought of James. Loud and funny, always smiling and ready to help. The way he'd studied and worked to become an animagus—how he'd told Remus with kind words that he didn't care that he was a beast, only that he was a good person. How he'd fought valiantly until his dying breath, always protecting the ones he loved most.

He thought of Lily and her fiery personality. Her wit and her intelligence, her thoughtfulness and kindness. How she balanced them all out when they could barely hold on. Her insistence that love could make everything better if you'd just let yourself be loved.

He thought of Sirius. Clever and quick, sarcastic and always ready for a fight. Defender of the defenceless and despite the years of neglect and isolation, he'd continued to fight. Continued to do what was right, without worry about how horribly he'd been wronged.

Remus' mind flew through images a million miles an hour. Harry making tea, Draco teasing Hermione, Ginny laughing at Ron, Molly carrying a platter, Neville tending to his plants, Theo bent over a book, Blaise creating a new spell…

And, it all circled back to Hermione.

It would always circle back to Hermione. She was inevitable. She was the earth, the air, the water, the fire. She was magic in and of itself. She was just as much a part of him as his own wolf. And he refused to allow the world to continue on without her in it.

"I accept you," Remus whispered, his breath shallow and broken. "Help me, please."

Moony howled so victoriously that Remus' back arched from the couch, his chest radiating with pain as magic coursed through him. Mika fell backwards, scrambling toward the armchair in an awkward crab-like scuttle. He could feel the golden threads of magic surrounding him, stitching his chest back together, weaving through his organs and pushing through his mind.

The last thing he recalled right before his body slumped back into the cushions was the wild shriek of joyous laughter that left Mika's lips.

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a/n: sorry it's such a shortyboi, but it begged to be ended here. I hope you enjoyed it, anyway. 3

xoxo