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Chapter Text

“C’mon, Moony,” James whined, throwing himself on Remus’ bed next to Sirius. “How is it even possible for one person to be sick this often?.” 

“It’s literally every month, mate,” Pete muttered from his own bed across the dorm.

Remus groaned and rolled his eyes, shoving Sirius off of his bed with a bit more force than necessary. 

“Oi!” Sirius yelped from the floor. He glared up at Remus. “I didn’t even say anything! Kick Prongs off, not me!”

“I’ll kick both of you off if you don’t just let it go,” Remus snapped. 

Sirius scrambled up, pointing a dramatic finger at him. “See! You can’t be that sick if you’ve got the strength to toss us off the bed!” Remus rubbed a hand over his face, his jaw clenched.

Remus Lupin had made it through nearly five years at Hogwarts without his best mates and roommates figuring out his biggest secret. Only Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall knew, had to know, in order to arrange his secretly monthly disappearances through the tunnel that led directly to the Black Lake. And for five years, while his friends had been suspicious and brought it up to him on more than one occasion, they had never actually figured out what happened to him on every full moon.

“Please, Moony,” Sirius said softly, kneeling beside the bed now, looking at him with his gray eyes. Remus forced himself to look away from him, to ignore the warming that curled in his chest, in his stomach, at the sight of Sirius looking at him like that. 

He took in the delicate lines of Sirius’ face, the smooth, pale skin, the slim wrists. He ached to reach out, just to touch . But he shoved the feeling down. One more thing that his friends could never know. 

“Just drop it, will you?” he said, exasperated, feeling more tired than angry.

“We’re worried about you, mate,” James said, pushing his glasses up his nose, suddenly serious. He stood and backed away, leaving Sirius where he knelt, hands cradling his face like it physically hurt to see Remus feeling this way. 

“I said, drop it ,” Remus said with finality. 

Sirius didn’t move, didn’t break his gaze. Sirius looked over Remus’ face, like he knew something, but wasn’t sure what to do with it. The tension crackled in the space between them, something unsaid.

Remus looked away first. With a huff, Sirius rose and stalked over to his own bed. He yanked the curtains closed behind him.

“I’ll see you lot in the morning,” Remus said, not waiting for an answer. 

He shoved his wand into his pocket and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

In the stairwell, Remus leaned against the cold stone wall next to the door and exhaled slowly, eyes shut tight. His lies felt heavier every month. It wasn’t easy, keeping his secret from his best friends. But he’d made his promises. To Dumbledore, to McGonagall, to his father before he died. And he wouldn’t break them.

The curse was his alone to bear.

Peter’s voice floated through the door, muffled. “Still thinking it’s the werewolf thing?”

“I don’t know, mate,” James replied. “It lines up with the full moon, yeah, but nothing else adds up.”

“Yeah,” Peter said, quieter now.

Remus closed his eyes for a beat, then pushed off the wall, unwilling to hear more. Their voices faded behind him as he made his way down the stairs. 

The common room was quiet, the only noise coming from the roaring fireplace. One figure sat curled in the corner, a head of red hair bent over a book, bathed in the glow from the fire. 

“Hi, Lily,” Remus said softly

Lily looked up startled, clearly not having heard him come down.

“Remus!” she exclaimed, a smile lighting up her face. “Heading down?” 

He nodded. Lily was the only person who knew. 

It happened in third year, while doing an extra credit assignment for Astronomy - because only Lily Evans would tackle extra work in a class where she already had the top grade. Lily caught sight of Remus in the Black Lake through the telescope. Remus had surfaced, just that once, unable to resist the pull from the full moon. He was always so careful, almost never breaking the surface.

But Lily had seen him. 

The next morning, she cornered him gently, carefully. She hadn’t accused him, just asked if he was okay.

He didn’t confirm it outright, but he didn’t deny it either.

He told her what he could tell. What he needed to say, without breaking his promises. It was his loophole, one he let himself have because she was the one who’d seen him, who had figured it out on her own.

Lily never pushed him for more. She didn’t press him for more information. She just knew, and stayed. Helped him when he needed it.

Now, she watched him with the same quiet understanding.

“Rough night?” she asked, closing her book.

Remus gave her a wry smile. “Always is with that lot.”

She nodded. “Be careful, Remus.”

“Aren’t I always?”

Lily raised a skeptical eyebrow, and Remus chuckled lightly. 

Then he turned, and the firelight faded behind him as he slipped through the portrait hole, off to the cold, bitter dark of the Black Lake.

Every month since he was five years old, on the night of the full moon, Remus Lupin felt the moon’s pull, nearly irresistible, tugging at his magic, beckoning him to the water.

He had tried to resist it. Twice.

Once, when he was nine. Again, during his first full moon at Hogwarts. Both times had nearly broken him.

When he ignored the moon’s call, his skin dried and cracked. His bones ached as if they were splintering beneath his flesh. His magic flared violently, once even lighting his bed curtains on fire in the middle of the night. Dry scales began to force their way through his skin, itching and burning like a rash from the inside out. Worst of all were the bones in his legs and feet, twisting, reshaping, trying to fuse. His body wanted to transform. And Remus, desperately trying to stay human, could only suffer as it failed. 

Because even if he resisted the water, the curse did not leave him. It followed him, claimed him, forcing his body into a half-transformed state on land, leaving him stuck, nearly paralyzed, and dried out until morning’s light finally released him.

It began when Remus was five years old. 

He had been camping in the Scottish Highlands with his father, Lyall. He wandered off after Lyall had fallen asleep that evening, following a soft breeze. That’s when he found a pool of water, shimmering with an otherworldly glow, beckoning to him. And so, he stepped in. The pool was shallow enough for his small frame to swim comfortably. He splashed and laughed, completely unaware that the water was beginning to warm, that it had started to bubble around him.

His father found him only minutes later. He appeared fine, unharmed.

It wasn’t until the next morning, when they went swimming together, that everything changed. 

Remus dove beneath the surface with his father. But only seconds after surfacing, he felt a sharp pain in his legs, and his swim trunks tore apart. 

He gasped, and looked down.

Bronze scales shimmered in the morning light as a long tail replaced everything from the hips down. His father yelled, but Remus cried out even louder.

That was the day Remus Lupin became a merman.

Chapter Text

The cold hit him the moment he stepped out of the castle. A sharp, February wind knifed through his sweater as he crossed the grounds, heading towards the tunnel entrance hidden between the gnarled roots of the old willow tree. He moved quickly, quietly, head down, shoulders hunched.

He hated this part. 

The stone floor of the tunnel was slick with condensation, the torchless dark stretching ahead of him. He cast a weak Lumos , barely holding back the gloom. He didn’t bother reinforcing the warming charm of his clothes. He wouldn’t need them much longer anyway.

After a few minutes of walking, he reached the small cave that opened into the Black Lake. A single slick slope of rock led down into the water, pitch-black and still. The only noise was the gentle lapping of the waves against stone, and the occasional drop of water from the moist walls. 

The moonlight didn’t reach him in the cave. 

He stripped quickly, teeth chattering in the cold, and he folded his clothes into a neat pile beside the stone wall, resting his wand on top. It felt wrong to leave it behind, but his magic didn’t work well once he changed. Not wand magic, anyway.

Remus took one last breath and stepped into the water.

It seized him immediately. The cold was so intense it stole the air from his lungs. It was always like this, even after all these years. His body went rigid for a moment, shocked by the temperature, before the ache began.

He doubled over with a gasp as his bones cracked. His legs twisted, fusing at the knees. The skin along his thighs and calves split open in long, shallow tears as scales emerged, slick, iridescent bronze. He bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. His toes pulled together, then vanished entirely, swallowed up by the growing tail that replaced everything below his hips.

His lungs burned, gills slicing open along his ribs. 

He finally collapsed fully into the water, disappearing beneath the surface with a strangled cry, and the darkness of the lake welcomed him.

The Black Lake was not a kind place. It was deep, endless. Cold.

Shapes shifted in the gloom around him, massive shadows that drifted far below, unknown eyes glowing yellow in the dark. Tentacles slithered past his peripheral. Thick lake weeds wrapped around his tail if he swam too close to the bottom. 

No glimmering coral castles or singing crabs.

Just quiet and cold.

The merfolk who lived in the lake were not like him. They didn’t speak to him. They didn’t acknowledge him. At least, not anymore. They looked older, rougher. Gray scales, sharp eyes, jagged spears clutched in webbed hands. Some still watched him as he swam by. Others didn’t notice him at all.

And so he swam alone in the darkness.

He felt the pull of the moon in his veins, but he refused to give in, refusing to surface. 

He found a spot to rest for the night, where he was least likely to to be bothered by the natural creatures of the lake. More than once, he got into scuffles with other creatures, some he couldn’t name, others he learned about in Defense Against the Dark Arts or Care of Magical Creatures. He’d come back to the dorm some mornings with scrapes, cuts, once even a broken arm. He had somehow convinced his friends that he had gotten into a fight with a Slytherin, but he knew from Sirius’s doubtful expression that he didn’t believe him.

He closed his eyes, letting the gentle current of the lake lull him to sleep.

The lightest rays of the morning sun woke him from a relatively painless sleep. Mornings in the lake always felt safer than the evenings. So he swam easily back to the cave. 

He emerged from the water’s grasp, the gills along his ribs closing as air returned to his lungs. After he fully pulled himself from the water, the transformation reversed slowly. His tail, splitting back into two legs, scales peeling away to reveal raw, pale skin beneath. 

He lay there on the cold stone floor for a moment, naked, shivering, catching his breath, trying to remember how to be a boy again.

Then he heard it. The lightest sound.

A soft rise and fall of breath.

Curled up next to his folded clothes, fast asleep, was Sirius Black.

Remus inhaled sharply, a tiny gasp of surprise, but it was enough.

Sirius stirred, dark eyelashes fluttering against his pale cheeks. His eyes blinked open blearily, adjusting to the dim cave light, and locked onto Remus with slow recognition.

Remus’ face flushed immediately, hot despite the chill in his bones. Sirius was lying directly on his neatly folded jumper like a pillow, his arm draped over the rest of his clothes. James’ invisibility cloak was tangled around his legs, clearly used in some ill-advised plan to follow Remus without being seen.

Neither of them spoke at first. Remus remained crouched awkwardly, wet hair dripping onto tense bare shoulders.

Sirius finally pushed himself up onto one elbow, still blinking sleep from his eyes.

“You’re freezing,” he murmured, voice scratchy.

Remus cleared his throat. “You’re- you’re on my jumper.”

Sirius looked down. “Oh- sorry,” he said, quickly tossing it towards Remus.

Ears burning, Remus caught it and pulled it over his head in one swift motion. The wool was scratchy against his still-damp skin, but he welcomed the barrier. He fished through the rest of the pile and tugged on his briefs, fast, avoiding Sirius’ gaze the whole time.

When he finally looked up, Sirius was watching him quietly, not with amusement, but something more unreadable, something cautious.

“You slept here?” Remus asked after a beat, voice flat.

Sirius nodded. “Figured you might need someone. Or…I don’t know. Just didn’t want you to be alone.”

An unamused scoff left Remus’ lips. He was very used to being alone.

Remus’ brows furrowed. His heart was still racing, not from the cold, but from the gnawing possibility that Sirius had seen too much.

“You didn’t-” Remus stopped, hesitating. “Did you see me? Last night?”

Sirius didn’t answer immediately, but his gaze never left Remus.

“No,” he finally said. 

Remus was watching him closely now.

Sirius sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I followed you through the tunnel. I kept my distance, I swear.”

Remus’ spine stiffened.

“I heard- ” Sirius paused, brow furrowing like he was trying to forget. “You were in pain. I heard you…cry out. But by the time I got here, to this cave, you were gone. Your clothes and wand were here, but you weren’t.”

His voice was steady. Honest.

Remus looked down, jaw tight, a hundred thoughts racing through his head.

He could feel Sirius watching him, but there was no accusation in his gaze. No fear. Just concern.

“I didn’t see anything, Remus,” Sirius added gently. “Not really. And even if I had…I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Remus didn’t know what to say.

But Sirius just stood up, brushing dust off his trousers. “C’mon. You’ll freeze down here.”

He bent, grabbing James’ cloak, and slung it over one shoulder. Remus hesitated for a second longer, still unsettled and slightly suspicious, but he followed.

They walked in silence back through the tunnel, the only sound the echo of their footsteps and the drips of distant water. 

When they reached the top of the stairs, Sirius finally said, “You don’t have to tell me anything, you know.”

Remus glanced over, surprised.

Sirius wasn’t looking at him, just walking, casual as ever. But his voice was softer than usual.

“Whatever it is,” he added, “you don’t owe it to anyone. Not even us.”

Remus didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure he could.

“I’m sorry if I crossed a boundary, following you,” he continued. “I just didn’t want you to deal with… whatever it is, alone.”

Remus’s chest felt a little less tight.

They reached the portrait hole, and Sirius muttered the password. The Fat Lady yawned, swinging open without a fuss. The common room was still dim, the morning light beginning to shine through its stained glass windows.

Remus climbed through, Sirius following right behind him. 

Neither of them spoke a word as they crawled back into their own beds, making as little noise as possible, careful not to wake the other two boys.

Chapter Text

It had been three days since the full moon, but the chill from the Black Lake still lingered under his skin. It did that sometimes. Settled deep into his bones and stayed there, long after the pain faded, long after he was supposed to feel human again.

The common room was humming with the low, cozy chaos of a late February evening. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting warm shadows across the stone walls, and students clustered in small groups, some bent over homework, others playing chess, while James and Peter were laughing loudly over a game of Exploding Snap.

Remus sat in his usual armchair near the window, legs curled beneath him, a Charms essay propped on a pillow in his lap. His eyes flicked to the parchment, across the room where Sirius was sprawled on the rug near the fire, elbow propped on a cushion, a book open in front of him. Magical Currents: A Study in Elemental Influence and Waterborne Hexes. 

Remus blinked, his fingers tightening slightly around his quill. 

Sirius, for his part, looked casual - annoyingly so. He flipped a page, brow furrowed, tapping his quill absently against his lips. From a distance, it looked like normal study. Maybe it was normal study. 

Except…every now and then, though, his gaze drifted, however briefly, to Remus. 

He still wasn’t sure was Sirius had seen or guessed. He’d followed him to the edge of the cave, seen his pile of clothes, heard his pain during the transformation. But Sirius hadn’t said a word about it since. Not to James or Peter. At least, he assumed. 

And he especially hadn’t said anything about it to Remus.

And yet, every once in a while, Remus caught him watching. Not suspiciously. Just…curiously. Like he was trying to work out a riddle no one else could see.

“Oi, Evans,” James said from his game with Pete. “You’re not seriously doing more homework, are you?”

“I’m always doing homework,” Lily said, primly, not looking up from her parchment.

“You make the rest of us look bad,” James replied, a grin on his face.

“That sounds like a you problem,” chimed Mary Macdonald, who was sitting across a study table from Lily. Marlene McKinnon between them, and seemed to enjoy the distraction from her own homework.

“You know, McDonald, you could offer a little more support here,” James said,

“I’m busy morally supporting Lily, thank you very much,” she replied with a grin of her own. She turned to Marlene. “Ten galleons says he asks her out again by Friday.” Remus chuckled, as James returned to his game with Peter, not having heard what Mary had to say.

Across the room, Sirius still hadn’t looked up. But he flipped the page of his book, and Remus caught a glimpse of the section at the top of the page: Lunar Tides and Magical Interference.

A muscle twitched in his jaw. 

He returned to his essay, trying to refocus, but his mind drifted. His thoughts naturally sank down to the lake. To the pressure in his bones. To the sound of Sirius’ voice in the cave, confused, and just a little bit too close.

When he lifted his gaze once more, Sirius was already looking at him with a questioning look on his face. WHen they’re eyes met, Sirius quickly looked away, jotting down more notes. 

Later that evening, as the common room emptied and the fire burned low, Remus stood in front of the tall window near the stairwell, watching moonlight shimmer faintly across the grounds. His essay still unfinished, abandoned hours ago, unable to keep his mind focused.

“Couldn’t sleep either?”

Sirius’s voice came from behind him, casual but quiet.

Remus didn’t turn. “Haven’t tried.”

Sirius tilted his head toward the window. “Do you feel it?” he asked softly. “The moon.”

Remus’ breath caught in his throat. He took a long time before answering. “Sometimes.”

“Hurts?”

He paused. “Sometimes.” There was no point in denying that much. Sirius had heard him.

He glanced sideways. Sirius wasn’t looking at him. His gaze was still on the moon, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable.

“I’ve been thinking a lot,” Sirius said after a pause. “About…instincts. Magic tied to the body. Stuff we don’t really have a name for.”

Remus arched a brow. “You’ve been thinking?”

Sirius huffed a quiet laugh. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

Remus turned toward him. “You’re not going to ask me what happened, are you?”

Sirius met his eyes. “Not unless you want to tell me.”

“I don’t,” he said.

“Alright,” Sirius replied simply. No push. 

And maybe that was worse than asking. Because it meant Sirius really was thinking.

The next afternoon, Remus left the library early. The essay could wait. His head was pounding, and the pull of the lake returned, low and distant. In the days following a full moon, headaches were common, leaving Remus grumpy and short-tempered.

He rounded the corner toward the common room corridor and paused at the sound of voices echoing just ahead.

“...I mean, something’s not right,” James was saying, low but urgent.

“Yeah, he’s been off,” Peter agreed. “Even Lily’s acting strange.”

He quickly hid behind a tapestry against the wall, making himself as quiet as possible. He didn’t breathe, instinct pressing him to move, but curiosity kept him anchored where he stood.

“You don’t think it’s…what, a curse?” Peter asked.

James scoffed. “I dunno, mate, but he’s definitely been pale lately, and he always ‘gets sick’ on the full moons. I just think there’s something going on.”

“Yeah,” Peter muttered. “And he won’t talk about it.”

“I’m worried about him,” James continued. “I mean, if he really is….” his voice got quiet, “a werewolf,” he nearly whispered the words, “I don’t want him to be afraid to tell us.”

A pause.

Then Sirius’s voice, cool and easy. “Alright, enough conspiracy theories. He’s not cursed. He’s stressed. Slughorn’s been breathing down his neck, and he’s been studying with Lily all the time. I think they both just have a lot of schoolwork.”

James made a skeptical sound. “You’ve been defending him a lot lately.”

“Maybe I just don’t like people talking behind my friend’s back,” Sirius replied, still calm, but with an edge that made Peter fall silent.

Remus swallowed.

Sirius was covering for him. Even though he didn’t know the truth, he was protecting him anyway.

The conversation shifted eventually towards Quidditch practice the next morning, and Remus slipped away, heart thudding.

The corridor outside the library was quiet. Pacing beneath the flickering scones, he folded his arms rightly across his chest. He hadn’t meant to wander here, but his legs had moved on their own, carrying him to the one person who might understand what to do next.

“Remus?”

He turned. Lily stood in the archway, one brow raised, book in hand. Her hair was swept into a loose braid, glowing red from the torchlight.

“I was looking for you,” he said.

She gave him a small smile and stepped closer, sensing the weight behind his voice. “What’s wrong?”

He hesitated. “Sirius knows something.”

Lily’s eyes sharpened. “What happened?”

“I overheard him talking with James and Peter. They’re suspicious. They’ve been suspicious, I think. For years, maybe. But Sirius…he shut it down. Didn’t let them dig.” He looked away. “He’s been watching me, Lily. Reading books on elemental magic. Water curses. All these things that are getting a little too close.”

She gave a soft sigh, then reached out and took his arm. “Come on. Walk with me.”

They made their way through the corridor, their footsteps muffled by the ancient rug beneath them.

“He followed me the night of the last full moon,” Remus said. “He didn’t see anything. But…he knows something’s not right. And he’s not pushing me, which somehow makes it worse.”

Lily was quiet for a few breaths. “Do you want to tell him?”

Remus gave a weak laugh. “Not especially. I don’t know. Maybe. I think I might have to. He’s…not going to let it go.”

They turned a corner. The hallways was cold here, and Lily flicked her wand without a word casting a soft warming charm over both of them, as she was so used to doing for Remus on especially cold full moons before and after his transformations. Remus felt the warmth settle over his shoulders like a blanket.

“You always know when it’s getting to me,” he said softly.

“Of course I do,” Lily said. “You’ve never been good at hiding it from me.”

He looked at her. “You’re the only one who’s helped. The chocolates. The warming spells. That time last year when you brewed calming draughts for me because a bad transformation in the Black Lake left me shaking for days.”

Lily shrugged. “You’re my friend, Remus. And you didn’t ask for this.”

“No,” Remus murmured. “I didn’t.”

They walked a little farther in silence.

“You’re scared of him knowing,” she said finally. Not a question.

Remus nodded. “Because once he knows…everything changes. I know it will.”

Lily stopped walking. She turned to him, her voice gentle but steady. “It didn’t for me.”

Remus didn’t answer at first. His eyes were fixed on the torchlight flickering against the stone floor.

“But you’re not Sirius,” he said eventually, voice low. “You’re not James or Peter. With you, I always knew…I don’t know, you’d still see me.”

“And you think they won’t?”

“I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s the problem. I don’t know what they’ll see. Not me - not Remus, just this…thing. Something dangerous. Something they have to be careful around.” He gave a bitter laugh. “They already think I’m fragile. What happens when they realize I actually am?”

“You’re not fragile.” She looked at him, and then very quietly, said, “I think Sirius already sees you. Maybe more than you want him to.”

Remus closed his eyes for a moment. “That’s what scares me the most.”

Chapter Text

Professor Slughorn had assigned them a challenging brew the following week - Tidewater Draught. A slippery, silvery potion said to calm magical fluxes in beings involved with water-based magics. A “sensitive subject,” Slughorn had chuckled, wagging a finger at the class. “Not many of you will ever need it, of course. Rare bloodlines, rare conditions, but excellent theory!”

Remus sat beside Lily, as usual. Her notes were neat, precise, and she was particularly good at  stabilizing the potion’s temperature, which made her an ideal partner for something like this. Across the room, the Slytherins had paired off, Mulciber with Avery, and Severus Snape, as always, hunched over his own cauldron, muttering  to himself and flicking his wand with tight, precise motion.

“Add the powdered silverleaf slowly,” Lily murmured, nudging a small bowl toward Remus. 

Remus stirred the potion counterclockwise, keeping his wrist loose, eyes fixed on the potion as it shifted from pale blue to storm-cloud grey and followed Lily’s instructions. His cauldron bubbled in time with the dull thud of his pulse. 

As the lesson dragged on, as students made the draughts and silver smoke rose from a dozen cauldrons, something in the air shifted. Remus felt it, the pull. Subtle, but insistent. Beckoning him, though the sun still hung high in the sky, the full moon behind him, and the next weeks away.

“Brilliant,” Lily said. “Ours is the only one that doesn’t look like swamp water.”

Remus smiled faintly, but the tightness behind his eyes was growing worse. A kind of pressure in his chest, a pull behind his ribs. 

At the cauldron next to him, standing next to James, Sirius was pretending not to watch him. 

He had said nothing.

Not after that night in the common room. No confrontation, no teasing, no accidental slip to James or Peter. But Remus caught him sometimes, a look that lingered a beat too long, a question forming behind his eyes but never spoken aloud. 

When their eyes did meet, Sirius didn’t look away, he just…looked. As if he was still trying to understand something, something he hadn’t quite figured out. 

The shift in the air changed again.

A ripple, barely perceptible, ran through the magic in the room. It was enough to set the hairs on Remus’s arms standing upright. His head snapped up just as Mulciber’s cauldron let out a loud crack and belched a plume of silver steam into the air. 

But Remus inhaled sharply as he felt it again. Stronger this time.

Slughorn turned, startled. “Good heavens, that is not the consistency we’re aiming for!”

His hips began to ache. His hands trembled slightly on the stirring rod. Remus’s heart began to pound loudly in his ears, his breathing turning into low pants. 

“Hey,” Lily murmured, her green eyes searching his pale face. “You alright?”

Remus gave her a weak smile. “Fine. It’s the fumes.”

But Lily knew better. 

And so, apparently, did Sirius, who had stopped what he was doing at his own cauldron, and turned towards Remus.

The tightness spread. His skin itched, muscles pulsed beneath his robes. The potion’s scent was turning his stomach, too briny, too close to saltwater. His vision blurred at the edges.

He pushed back from the cauldron suddenly, stool scraping loudly against the floor, causing several students to turn towards him.

“Lupin?” Slughorn asked.

“Sorry-” he stuttered. “Nauseous. I think. I-” He gulped. “Sorry.”

Lily stood at once. “I’ll take him to Madame Pomfrey, Professor.”

Slughorn waved a pudgy hand. “Yes, yes, alright, off you go. Take care, Lupin.”

Remus didn’t look back. He stumbled out of the classroom, Lily close at his side, guiding him with one hand on his arm. 

By the time they reached the base of the willow, Remus could barely walk. His skin felt like it was burning, muscles twitching with every step.

Lily reached for the knot on the trunk, her fingers swift from practice.

“You’re not going to the Hospital Wing.”

Lily and Remus froze at the voice behind them. They whirled around and saw Sirius standing a few feet away, arms crossed, eyes locked on Remus.

His heart dropped.

Lily stepped in front of him instantly. “Sirius,” she said carefully, “go back to class.”

“I just want to help,” he said, gaze flicking past her to Remus, who was barely upright.

“You can’t help,” she snapped, uncharacteristically sharp. “You need to leave. Now.”

“I’m not leaving him like this,” he said, taking a step toward them.

Remus let out a guttural sound. He dropped to one knee, hand bracing on the grass.

“It’s-” he gasped, teeth clenched. “It’s happening. We need to go .”

Lily immediately dropped to his side, grabbing under his arm.

Sirius stared, stunned.

Remus didn’t look at him. “If you’re coming, move. ”

There wasn’t time to argue.

Lily pressed the knot and the branches froze. 

Sirius rushed forward, grabbing Remus’s other side without a word. Together, the three of them descended into the tunnel, shadows swallowing them.

They burst through the tunnel’s final bend, into the cave hollowed beneath the Black Lake. The damp stones glistened, the sound of water lapping softly against the rocks echoing around them.

Remus collapsed to his knees, not able to yet reach the water. His breath was coming in ragged bursts, and his hands trembled as he braced himself against the slick stone.

“Remus,” Lily said, crouching beside him, already rolling up her sleeves. “We’re here. You’re okay.”

“No-” Remus hissed through clenched teeth. “Not…okay.”

His back arched as the pain hit full force. His skin shimmered unnaturally in the low light, like something just beneath the surface was fighting to emerge. He barely noticed Sirius hovering in the mouth of the cave, wide-eyed and silent.

Remus let out a strangled cry, collapsing fully now, arms folded under him, forehead pressed to the cold floor. 

Sirius moved to step forward, but Lily shot him a sharp look. “Don’t. Not yet.”

And then it began.

The transformation came like a tide breaking.

He struggled to pull his clothes, but the transformation overtook him too quickly. Remus’s legs locked together, twisting unnaturally. The seams of his trousers gave way with a sharp rip, fabric tearing as his legs fused together into one long, powerful tail. A soft crack echoed in the chamber as the bones began to shift, realign. His skin rippled, darkening, then flashed with bronze and gold. Scales bloomed across his calves and hips in sweeping patterns, glinting like molten metal.

His feet stretched and fused, toes disappearing into the smooth curve of a glittering tail. Gills fluttered open along his ribs. Lily helped him pull his shirt over his head. 

And suddenly, he was still.

The silence that followed was almost holy.

Remus lay there, panting, chest heaving. His hair plastered to his face, skin gleaming with sweat and lake mist. Torn scraps of cloth clung loosely around his hips. 

Sirius stared, unmoving. 

He wasn’t horrified. He didn’t appear confused.

If anything, he just looked stunned.

His mouth parted slightly as he took it in - the shimmer of Remus’s tail, the elegant curve of it tapering into a dark fin, the way the scales caught the low blue light of the cave. The sharp lines of Remus’s face that were softened by exhaustion.

Lily finally stood, her hands trembling slightly, and glanced back at Sirius.

“This is what you wanted to know,” she said softly.

Sirius didn’t answer. He was barely breathing. 

Without looking away, he murmured, “He’s beautiful.” 

At that, Remus groaned, shifting slightly, and opened one eye. “Please don’t say weird things when I’m mid-mutation.”

That broke the tension. Lily let out a snort of laughter. Sirius blinked, almost startled, then smiled - the kind that bloomed slowly, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to.

But he didn’t look away.

Remus shifted uneasily on the cold stone floor, the tightness of his torn pants digging into his skin. He struggled briefly to pull them off, but the fabric was shredded, stubbornly clinging to the scales of his tail. With a grunt of frustration, he finally freed himself from the ripped remnants, tossing them aside. Naked and vulnerable, the cold bit deeper against his damp skin and scales.

“Lily,” he rasped, voice rough and low. “I need to get to the water. It helps…it eases the pain.”

Lily nodded, immediately, moving with gentle confidence. “Of course. Just lean on me.”

Sirius stayed where he was, still watching with a mix of awe and concern, but not moving any closer.

Remus tried to lift himself but the aching in his ribs and tail muscles made it nearly impossible. Lily stepped forward, wrapping an arm under his shoulders, steadying him.

“Let’s get you to the pool,” she said softly, almost soothingly.

With Lily’s help, Remus dragged himself toward the water that pooled in the cave’s center, the chill biting into his skin.

As he slid into the cool depths, the ache began to dull almost immediately. The water cradled him like a balm, soothing the burning muscles and easing the restless tension that the transformation always brought.

Sirius hovered at the cave’s entrance, eyes never leaving Remus as he floated. 

Remus felt the weight of Sirius’ gaze and, despite the exhaustion, he couldn’t help but glance back. Their eyes met, and something unspoken passed between them - a fragile understanding, a quiet acceptance.

“I’m sorry you had to see this,” Remus murmured, voice barely heard above the water’s lapping.

Sirius shook his head slowly. “Don’t be. I’m just glad you trust me enough to let me be here.”

The words were simple, but they meant everything.

Remus closed his eyes, letting the water hold him, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel quite so alone.

Chapter Text

Lily stood, brushing her hands on her robes as she cast one last glance at Remus.

“I’m going to let Madame Pomfrey know you’re safe,” she said gently. “And I’ll come up with something to tell the others so they don’t worry.”

Remus nodded, grateful. “Thanks, Lily.”

She gave him a small, knowing smile. “I’ll be back later with some pants. Try not to drown.”

“Very funny,” he muttered with a smirk, and she disappeared through the tunnel.

The silence that followed was thick, though not uncomfortable. Just quiet.

Remus let himself float for a moment longer, suspended, letting the cool calm settle into his limbs. The ache had dulled, more soreness than pain. Slowly, carefully, he braced a hand against the sloping stone and pulled himself upright, dragging his torso from the water. His tail, still dappled in shimmering bronze, floating lazily behind him, catching the cave’s dim light in ripples of gold and green.

He sat on the stone ledge, arms braced behind him, head tilted slightly back as he caught his breath.

Sirius stayed where he was for a moment, then crossed the stone floor, the sound of his steps echoing softly. 

Without a word, he sat down beside Remus - close, but not too close.

“I didn’t expect it to be like that,” Sirius said quietly, breaking the silence between them.

Remus huffed a humorless laugh. “What did you expect?

“I don’t know. Fangs? Tentacles? A tail that slaps people across the face?”

“You’re not that far off,” Remus murmured, watching the flicker of the cave light on the water.

Sirius was quiet for a long moment, then said, “You were in pain.”

Remus nodded, jaw tight. “It’s worse when I fight it. I tried once during first year, and nearly tore myself apart.”

Another beat of silence passed between them.

“When did you figure it out?” Remus asked suddenly, glancing sideways.

Sirius blinked, taken aback. “I didn’t. Not really. I had guesses, especially after that night by the cave. But I didn’t know until today.”

Remus furrowed his brow. “But you didn’t say anything. You could’ve-”

“I could’ve what? Pressed you until you told me?” Sirius said, a little sharper than intended. Then he looked away, quieter. “Didn’t feel like my place.”

Remus studied him. “But it bothered you.”

Sirius didn’t deny it. “Lily knew.”

That hung in the air for a moment.

“She saw something, once,” Remus explained. “In third year. She figured it out on her own.”

“So did I,” Sirius said, but there was no pride in it. Only a kind of quiet hurt. “Eventually.”

Remus sighed, running a hand through damp hair. “It’s not that I didn’t want you to know.”

Sirius gave a weak laugh. “You just didn’t want me to know first.”

“That’s not fair.”

Sirius shook his head, holding up a hand. “It’s fine. Really. I just…” He looked down at his hands, voice soft again. “I wanted to be someone you trust with it.”

“You are,” Remus said quietly. “I just…didn’t know how.”

At that, Sirius looked up again. Their eyes met, and the air between them felt fuller somehow. 

Then, breaking the tension, Sirius added with a half-smile. “Also…you’re kind of beautiful.”

Remus blinked. “What?”

“I mean, not when you were writhing on the floor,” Sirius said quickly. “That was bloody awful. But in the water. After. Now. It’s like seeing something magical.”

Remus just stared at him.

Sirius cleared his throat. “Weird thing to say. Sorry.”

“No,” Remus said, cheeks warming. “No one’s ever said that before.”

Sirius gave a crooked smile. “Well. They should.”

Remus glanced down at his tail, the bronze scales catching the dim light as they drifted lazily in the water.

“Thanks,” he murmured. 

Remus shifted slightly, his tail flicking lazily through the water. It brushed against Sirius’ foot, and Sirius instinctively jerked his leg bag, glancing down.

“Sorry,” Remus murmured, embarrassed.

Sirius shook his head. “No, it’s alright. Just didn't expect it.”

Remus let out a soft breath, something like a laugh. “Didn’t expect me to be quite so aquatic?”

Sirius looked at him, half-grinning. “Didn’t expect it to feel…normal. Being here with you.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Normal?”

“I mean, as normal as talking to a mate who just grew a tail can be,” Sirius said, smirking a little now.

Remus gave a low, amused huff and shook his head. “You’re remarkably calm about all this.”

Sirius shrugged. “It’s you. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Remus snorted, but his cheeks were flushed again, this time not from the cold. His gaze flicked to Sirius, lingering a moment too long before he looked back down at the water. 

Sirius hesitated, then said more softly, “Do you…need help getting out?”

Now Remus hesitated, pride warring with practicality. Then he nodded one. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Sirius stood and moved to the water’s edge, reaching out a hand. Remus gripped it tightly, warm and strong, and let himself be pulled forward. As he crossed the threshold of the water, the tail began to retract, scales peeling back into skin, legs reforming beneath him with a low groan of magic.

It was painful, but not unbearable. And Sirius didn’t let go.

Remus stood and shivered violently, water dripping from his legs, and Sirius caught him around the shoulders, steadying him with one arm.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured.

Just then, with impeccable timing, a neatly folded pair of trousers and dry socks dropped out of nowhere onto the rock beside them.

Sirius blinked. “What the-”

Remus snorted. “Lily.”

Sure enough, a small pile of foil-wrapped chocolates appeared on top of the pile of clothes. Classic Evans charmwork.

“Chocolate?” Sirius asked.

Remus smiled faintly. “She swears it cures everything.”

“Hard to argue with that,” Sirius said.

Sirius turned away then, giving him a bit of privacy.

After Remus wriggled into the dry trousers, Sirius turned back around, giving him a quick once over to check that everything was as it should be.

“You alright?” he asked, a little quieter now.

Remus nodded, eyes meeting his.

Sirius stepped forward, brushing damp curls off of Remus’ forehead with surprising gentleness. “Good.”

They stood there a moment too long, breath mingling in the cool cave air.

Then Sirius pulled away with a crooked grin. “Come on, fish boy. Let’s get you out of here before Lily comes back with blankets and a lecture.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but his heart was light.

Chapter Text

The library was quiet, save for the soft rustle of parchment and occasional clink of an ink bottle. Remus sat across from Lily at a corner table, textbooks and scrolls stacked around them. A yellow sunbeam filtered through the tall windows, casting a warm glow across their notes.

Lily looked up from her Potions text, nudging Remus’s foot under the table. “You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?” he muttered, not looking up from the paragraph he’d read three times already.

“That thing where your eyes are on the book but your brain is somewhere halfway down the Black Lake.”

Remus snorted softly, but didn’t deny it. The lake had a way of haunting him, even on dry land. Cold, dark, and full of things that didn’t sleep. His monthly visits were rarely peaceful - sometimes they were downright terrifying. But they were necessary. And lately, they were harder to shake once he surfaced.

Before he could respond, the sound of hurried footsteps approached, and Sirius Black slid across the seat beside Remus with no preamble. He glanced around the library quickly, then gave a sharp flick of his wand.

“Muffliato ,” he muttered. A faint buzzing filled the air, cutting them off from the rest of the room. Then Sirius turned back to them with bright, expectant eyes. “Alright. I’ve waited an entire week, and I’ve been very well-behaved. But I have questions.”

Remus groaned. “Here we go.”

“No, really, I need to know.  I mean, the tail, the fins. The whole…mermaid-of-the-lake situation.”

“I’m a merman, Sirius.”

“Right. Sorry,” Sirius said, deadpan. “You’re the picture of masculine aquatic mystery.”

Lily snorted.

“So, how does it work?” Sirius asked, leaning in eagerly. “You just- what? Dive in and sprout a tail?”

Lily smiled patiently. Remus shot her a look.

“It’s not that dramatic,” he said. “Well. Not usually. I have control over it- mostly. I have to be fully submerged. It’s like…instinctual magic. Elemental, maybe. I don’t know, something…ancient.”

“And the full moon?” Sirius asked, more gently this time.

Remus hesitated. “That’s…different. I don’t have a choice then. It pulls at me, like it’s in my blood. If I try to resist, it hurts. Badly.”

Sirius frowned, jaw tightening slightly. “Like that time in Potions?”

Remus looked at Lily, who nodded and jumped in. “Someone must have brewed the Tidewater Draught wrong. Probably Mulciber. The magical reaction imitates the pull of ocean tides, and if you mix it too strongly or use whole silverleaf instead of powdered, it intensifies the effect. Magic can mimic nature if it’s done clumsily enough.”

Sirius blinked. “You sound thrilled.”

“I am,” she said cheerfully. “It was fascinating. Dangerous, but fascinating. Anyway, I told Slughorn it was giving me a headache, too, so that it wasn’t suspicious that only Remus reacted that way.”

“Headache,” Sirius repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“I was trying to be subtle, Black.”

Sirius smirked but turned his attention back to Remus. “So. When you’re…like that. Can you breathe underwater? Talk? Do fish talk back?”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Yes. Yes. No.”

“No? Sirius blinked. “You’ve never had a full-on philosophical chat with a salmon?”

“I’m a merman,” Remus said dryly, “not a cartoon character.”

Lily snorted into her sleeve.

“But seriously,” Sirius said. “Have you met another merman? Mermaid? Merfolk?”

Remus shook his head. “No.”

Sirius leaned back, undeterred. “Do you want to?”

“Not particularly.”

“But don’t you want, like, a little aquatic community?”

“I don’t think you understand how bleak the Black Lake is,” Remus said dryly. “It’s not exactly Atlantis. It’s dark. Cold. Sometimes terrifying. My monthly visits are less magical underwater castles and more horror novel.”

Sirius’s grin faltered just a little, some of the shine in his eyes dimming as he took that in.

“Sorry,” he said quietly.

Remus shrugged. “It is what it is.” 

After a few moments of silence, Remus continued, “I don’t even know exactly how it happened. It’s not…hereditary. Not in my case, anyway.”

Sirius looked at him for a long moment, then asked quietly. “Do you ever think about telling James and Peter?”

Remus’s shoulders tensed. He didn’t answer right away. His fingers traced the spine of his book absently. “I’ve thought about it,” he said eventually. “But thinking and doing are…different things.”

Sirius nodded, expression unreadable. “Yeah. Fair enough.”

No one spoke for a while. The soft hum of the muffliato charm filled the gap. Then Lily reached for her quill again.

“Well,” she said, tone brisk, “now that that’s out of your system, maybe we can return to the actual Tidewater essay?”

Sirius leaned back in his chair grinning. “Only if I can title mine ‘ My Best Friend the Sea Monster .’”

“Try it,” Remus said without looking up, “and I’ll drown you.”

Sirius grinned. 

The questions didn’t end there.

Over the next few days, Sirius continued to bombard Remus with every stray thought he had about what being a merman entailed. It started in the library, but quickly spilled into the Great Hall or the common room, either when James and Peter were absent or so engrossed in another conversation. 

“Do you think you taste saltier than the rest of us?” Sirius asked one morning over breakfast, completely serious as he buttered his toast.

Remus didn’t even look up. “I will hex you.”

“Right, sorry. Sorry, just…wondering if your skin has like…a briny quality.”

“Sirius,” Remus groaned. “Please, for the love of Merlin, shut up.”

But Sirius was relentless.

“Can you echolocate? Like a dolphin?”

“No.”

“Do you have to moisturize more?”

“No.”

“Do your nails grow faster?”

“Why would they- no. ”

More than once, Remus caught Lily stifling laughter behind her textbooks. And even though he grumbled, rolled his eyes, or occasionally smacked Sirius with a rolled-up copy of the Prophet, he didn’t truly mind. Not really. Because Sirius didn’t ask with disgust or fear. Just curiosity. Endless, unfiltered, relentless curiosity. And somehow, that made it easier. 

Still, it was strange. No one had known before - truly known. Other than Lily, of course. But now Sirius did. And he didn’t run.

Quite the opposite, actually. If anything, he kept orbiting closer.

The dormitory was quiet one evening other than the occasional creak of ancient wood and James’ light snores. Remus had just started to drift off when his bed curtain rustled.

“Sirius?” he whispered, blinking into the darkness.

“Yeah,” came the reply, quiet and hesitant. The mattress dipped under a familiar weight as Sirius slipped inside the curtains, pulling them shut behind him, and casting a soft muffliato .

Remus shifted slightly,scooting back to make room. It wasn’t unusual for Sirius to crawl in his or James’ beds on occasion - usually after nightmares about his life back home. It was always worse at the beginning of the school year, when the memories were fresh, or towards the end when he was dreading the summer ahead. 

This time felt different.

Sirius’s hair was damp from a late shower, curling against his neck. He smelled faintly of old parchment, and when he settled beside Remus, their shoulders brushed, sending a current of heat skittering down Remus’s spine.

He told himself not to read into it. Not to think about the way Sirius’s hair splayed softly across the pillow they now shared. Not to notice the casual way his hand had landed between them, fingers splayed, close enough to graze if Remus just shifted a little.

But he didn’t shift.

“I had more questions,” Sirius whispered, voice low.

Remus huffed a soft laugh, keeping his eyes on the canopy above. “Of course you did.”

Silence settled briefly, but not uncomfortably. He could feel SIrius beside him, warm and real, breathing slow and steady. 

“Does it always hurt?” Sirius asked after a moment. “The transformations?”

“Not always,” Remus murmured. “Only when it’s forced, like the full moon. And when I  was younger, like my body was still adjusting to what I had become. I didn’t have the control over it that I do now. Little things could trigger me, and I’d begin to feel that pull, like what happened in Potions.”

Sirius nodded beside him, his arm brushing Remus’s again. “And the lake? Is it colder in the winter?”

Remus hesitated. “Yeah. Much worse. It’s not quite as bad once I’m fully transformed. But the chill of the lake…it still creeps in.”

“You still feel the cold? Even with the tail and everything?”

Remus gave a soft, dry laugh. “I’m not immune to nature, Sirius. I’m not a sea god.”

“You kind of are,” Sirius said lightly. “A mysterious merman of the night.”

“Stop,” Remus groaned, covering his face with one hand.

But even as he tried to brush it off, his chest tightened, not with embarrassment, but something gentler.

He couldn't let himself feel this way.

Sirius was…Sirius. Brilliant and infuriating. Charming and sharp-eyed. He had a way of seeing right through people, and yet somehow still making them feel safe under his gaze. It was unbearable, sometimes, how much Remus wanted to be looked at like that again.

He told himself it was just relief. That it felt good to be known. To not be hiding from everyone all the time. That was all this feeling was. 

But it was harder to believe that with Sirius’s knee bumping into his under the blanket. With his breath brushing softly across Remus’s cheek when he turned his head slightly. With the knowledge that no one else knew what he was, not like Sirius did now.

And Sirius wasn’t even acting strange about it. He was just curious, and maybe a bit concerned. But that was all.

“When it’s not painful,” Sirius asked quietly, “what’s it like? Being…you?”

Remus hesitated, searching for words. “Freeing,” he finally said. “When I’m deep enough - when it stops hurting, or when I choose to go for a swim not on a full moon - it feels like I’m exactly what I was meant to be. I don’t feel wrong. I don’t feel like it was all a mistake or an accident. I just…belong.”

He didn’t dare look at Sirius after saying that.

Sirius didn’t laugh or tease. He just breathed, slow and steady beside him. “That sounds beautiful.”

Remus turned his head slightly, finding Sirius’s gaze in the dark. Their faces were closer than he realized, his pillow had sunk slightly under Sirius’s weight, drawing them together. They shared a breath. 

“I’ve never told anyone that before,” Remus said. 

“I’m honored,” Sirius replied with sincerity.

They looked at each other a moment too long. And then Sirius, with a twitch of his mouth, whispered, “Thanks for letting me in, fish boy.”

Remus groaned. “You’re the worst.”

“Objectively untrue.” 

They fell into a hush again. The blanket was warm, the air between them charged and heavy with something unspoken. 

Then, barely audible, Sirius asked, “Next full moon…can I come with you?”

Remus froze. “Sirius-”

“Not into the lake,” he added quickly. “I like my limbs unfrozen, thanks. I just…don’t want you to be alone.”

Remus swallowed. “I’m not always alone. Lily’s helped, sometimes. She leaves warming charms on my clothes, the chocolates. Waits in the common room until I come back.”

Sirius’s hand curled slightly in the blanket between them. “I want to do more than wait. If I can.”

That simple sentence sent something fluttering wildly in Remus’s chest. He tried not to let it show, but his voice came out softer than he intended. “You’d really come? Even if you can’t follow me in?”

“I’ll stay at the edge. As long as you need. I just want you to know someone’s there.”

Remus exhaled, the breath shaky. “Okay,” he said at last. “Yeah. That’d mean a lot.”

Sirius gave a small, crooked smile, then pushed himself up gently, the bed shifting under him. “Alright. You need sleep.”

Remus felt the chill of the space Sirius left behind almost immediately.

“Thanks,” he said.

Sirius paused at the curtain. “You’re not alone, Remus.”

And with that, he slipped out, leaving Remus in the dark and the echo of his heartbeat in his ears.

He’d always hated the full moons. But maybe this one would be different. 

Chapter Text

Remus’s sixteenth birthday fell on a Wednesday, meaning he still needed to go through a full day of classes before he could enjoy the not-so-secret surprise party that his friends were throwing for him. His friends hadn’t said a word about his birthday all day, as if they’d forgotten. But Remus knew better - there was a certain glint in their eyes, and a strange hush fell whenever he walked into a room. They were definitely planning something.

By the time he made it to Potions, his back ached from carrying his bag. He took his usual seat beside Lily as Slughorn launched into a preamble about how pleased he was with their Tidewater Draughts and essays. The dungeon was warm and damp, with a briny tang lingering in the air like seawater clinging to stone.

Lily passed him a vial of their finished potion with a quick smile. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

“Thanks,” he murmured, lips twitching into a smile.

Across the room, the Slytherins were dragging their stools into place with little regard for the screeching sound they made on the stones. Remus tried to tune them out and focus on labeling the sample, but it didn’t help that he could feel Severus Snape’s eyes on him.

The silence didn’t last long.

“Funny, isn’t it?” Snape said, loud enough for the surrounding tables to hear. “How someone can miss half the brewing session and still walk away with top marks.”

Remus’s stomach sank. He didn’t look up.

Lily, unbothered, tapped her quill against her parchment. “Funny how some people spend more time watching others work than doing their own.”

“Or maybe some people just get a little extra help,” Snape continued smoothly, “when they sit next to Slughorn’s prized pupil.”

From the back of the room, Mulciber snorted.

“Could explain why Lupin’s potion didn’t completely explode,” Snape added, voice dropping with false innocence. “Though he didn’t look well, did he? Pale. Shaky. Almost like he was going to be sick.”

Remus tensed, fingers tightening around his quill.

Sirius, seated on Remus’s other side, let out a sharp breath and turned toward Snape. “Is there a point to this, or are you just bored because Mulciber melted your cauldron again?”

Mulciber snarled but didn’t say anything. Snape offered a thin smile.

“Just making observations. Magic can have strange side effects…if you’re not used to handling certain elements.”

James, two tables over, snapped his head up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Snape didn’t answer, but the gleam in his eye was enough.

Lily looked dangerously close to slamming her textbook shut. “Just let it go,James. He’s not worth it” she said to James in a tight voice.

James scowled but stayed in his seat.

Sirius leaned forward slightly, voice low but deadly. “Knock it off, Snivellus.”

Snape gave him a mocking half-bow and turned back to his notes.

Peter fidgeted with his quill beside James, clearly uncomfortable. “Maybe just ignore him,” he mumbled, not quite looking at anyone.

The rest of the class continued on normally. Slughorn, as always, was somehow completely oblivious to the tension simmering between the Gryffindors and Slytherins. He carried on cheerfully, lecturing about the properties of aquafortis elixirs, which were traditionally used to strengthen magical resistance to cold-based curses - ironically fitting, considering how frosty the mood was at the table.

Remus kept his head down, copying notes mechanically, though he barely processed a word. Snape’s comments buzzed in his ears like static. 

At his side, Sirius hadn’t moved for several minutes, his eyes fixed ahead but his knuckles were white around his quill. James kept glancing over, somewhat confused, but clearly debating whether to escalate things despite Lily’s earlier warning. And Peter…well, Peter looked like he was praying for the period to end.

Remus glanced at Sirius, who looked murderous.

“Thanks,” he muttered under his breath.

Sirius just shrugged, voice low and flat. “He’s lucky I didn’t hex him into the draught.”

The Gryffindor common room had been transformed by the time Remus made it back from dinner. The moment he stepped through the portrait hole, a chorus of “Happy Birthday!” erupted from a crowd of red and gold. Streamers, clearly conjured by Lily, floated through the air like soft ribbons, and someone had bewitched the fireplace to flicker in shades of amber and rec.

There was a cake on the table (lopsided, definitely James’ doing), and a charmed banner overhead that read:  SWEET SIXTEEN, MOONY! with the “sixteen” constantly changing fonts and sizes in an obnoxious loop. The scent of butterbeer mixed with the faint spice of vanilla from the icing on the cake. 

Remus blinked, stunned, as everyone crowded in around him. James slapped him hard on the back. “Didn’t think you could sneak through the day without something, did you?”

Peter handed him a butterbeer with a grin, and Sirius, who was leaning against the wall by the window, arms crossed, smirked and raised an eyebrow. “What’s the matter, Moony? Caught off guard? Thought we forgot?”

“I hoped,” Remus muttered, but he was smiling. It was hard not to.

The room was buzzing with music and laughter. Marlene and Mary were dancing together near the fire, twirling each other clumsily. Lily was arguing with James over whether he’d used too much charmwork on the fairy lights, which were now flickering aggressively and nearly blinding anyone who passed by. James insisted they looked ‘atmospheric.’

Sirius sidled up beside Remus with two cups, one butterbeer and one something much stronger from his personal stash, and handed him the latter with a smirk. “Happy birthday. Don’t say I never give you anything.”

Remus took the drink. “It’s illegal to smuggle firewhiskey into school, you know.”

“And yet,” Sirius said, “here we are.”

They clinked glasses and drank. The warmth spread quickly through Remus’s chest, mingling with something else, something softer, especially when Sirius’s eyes lingered on him just a second too long.

Across the room, James leaned dramatically over Lily, grinning in a way that only spelled trouble. “So, Evans,” he said, “guess what incredibly thoughtful, definitely tasteful gift I got our dear birthday boy.”

Lily didn’t even look up from her butterbeer. “If it’s another self-writing quill that only writes in haikus, I’m hexing you.”

“Excuse you,” James said, dramatically clutching his chest. “This year, I’ve matured. It’s a singing quill. With harmonies.

Marlene, sprawled nearby, snorted. “And a suspicious amount of kazoo accompaniment.”

“Truly haunting,” Mary added with a grin. 

“It’s layered,” James insisted, shooting Lily a grin. “Like me.”

Lily rolled her eyes, though she was clearly fighting a smile. “Your gift is cursed, isn’t it?”

“Only a little.”

From his corner armchair, Remus chuckled into his drink, cheeks already flushed from the warmth of the fire. The room was glowing with low candlelight and charmwork twinkles, and everything felt a bit hazy in the best way.

Sirius dropped onto the armrest beside him, thigh brushing Remus’s shoulder. He leaned down with a conspiratorial glint in his eye. “I had a backup gift planned, you know.”

“Oh?”

Sirius nodded. “A dramatic ballad. Tragic. Brooding. All about an emotionally tortured boy with excellent hair and a mysterious connection to water.

Remus glanced up, already fighting a smile. “How subtle.”

“I can be subtle,” Sirius said with a grin. “You’d have wept, fish boy.”

“Oi, Lupin!” James' voice cut through the noise again from across the room. “Prepare yourself for the lyrical stylings of Potter and the Kazoo Crew!”

As the noise of the common room swelled with James’s off-key serenade and someone conjuring glitter (Mary, probably), Sirius leaned down and tapped Remus lightly on the shoulder. 

“Come on,” he said in a low voice. “I’ve got something for you.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, but let Sirius tug him to his feet. They slipped quietly out of the common room and climbed the stairs to their dormitory. It was empty, save for the messy remnants of hasty party preparations and the soft hum of the warming enchantments someone had put on the fireplace.

Sirius shut the door behind them and crossed to his trunk. “Right. Had to owl some obscure shop in London.”

Remus watched him, suspicious and amused.

Sirius turned, holding a small, carefully wrapped parcel. “Close your eyes.”

“Really?"

“Trust me.”

Remus sighed, closed his eyes, and held out his hands.

Something soft and warm was placed in his palms. When Sirius told him to open his eyes, he looked down to find a deep navy-blue cloak, not long like a wizard’s, but short and functional, clasped at the throat with a silver pin shaped like a wave cresting. The fabric shimmered faintly, like water.

“It’s charmed,” Sirius said quietly. “Warming spells, obviously. But it’s also- it’s waterproof. Like…really waterproof. It’ll keep your skin from getting so cold and raw when you surface after long swims. And it has this buoyancy enchantment sewn into it. It won’t weigh you down, so you can wear it in the water if you need to. I know you said your body adjusts to the cold, but I still figured it might help.”

Remus just stared at it.

“And you know, if you’d ever want to just like…float in the cave, sit there for a bit, hang out and chat…. maybe, when you do, you can be a bit more comfortable,” Sirius added, voice trailing off.

Remus swallowed. The weight of it in his hands was surprisingly grounding. The gift was incredibly useful and thoughtful. It was perfect.

“Sirius…” he said, then stopped, blinking hard. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“‘Sirius Black, you are my favorite and most attractive friend’ would be a solid start.”

Remus huffed a laugh, but his fingers tightened around the cloak. “This is…really kind.”

Sirius shrugged one shoulder, suddenly sheepish. “Just thought it might help. I know that lake’s rough, especially this time of year.”

Remus nodded slowly. The cloak shimmered again in the firelight, like it knew that it belonged in Remus’s hands. “It does get so cold starting in December. Sometimes I don’t feel my hand for an hour after I come out.”

Something flickered behind Sirius’s eyes at that, but he didn’t push. He just said, “Well. Now you’ll have this.”

Remus didn’t trust himself to say much else, so he nodded, set the cloak carefully on his bed, and murmured, “Thank you.”

For a few seconds, they just stood there. Shoulder to shoulder. Silence stretching long and familiar between them. 

Then Sirius cleared his throat. “Alright, come on, birthday boy. Back downstairs before James brings his choir up here.”

Remus laughed softly, warmth blooming in his chest as they headed down together. 

Chapter Text

The following Tuesday was quieter than usual, the energy from Remus’s birthday party had died down, and the energy between the Marauders fell back into its normal rhythm. Sirius’ barrage of questions at Remus had slowed, perhaps cautious of the full moon later that evening, wanting to give Remus some space.

In the Great Hall at breakfast, James nudged Remus with a teasing grin. “Feeling alright today, Moony? You feeling sick or something?”

Remus met his gaze and shrugged, trying to keep his voice light. “Tired.”

Sirius, sitting beside them, said nothing. His silence was unusual. James and Sirius typically relentlessly teased Remus about his ‘illnesses.’ And James noticed immediately.

“Oi, Sirius, cat got your tongue?” James teased, elbowing him lightly.

Sirius only smirked, his eyes flickering briefly with something unreadable.

James looked between the two, his curiosity piqued, but before he could press, Sirius leaned in and whispered, “I’ve got a brilliant idea for a prank on Snape. You in?”

James’s face lit up instantly, the question shifting his focus away from Remus. 

“You’re on,” James said, already plotting.

Remus smiled faintly and bumped Sirius’ knee under the table in thanks.

The morning stretched long and slow, each class dragging with the minutes ticking closer to nightfall. Remus sat though Ancient Runes and Charms, his mind restless, fingers tapping against his desk as a quiet tug gnawed at his core. The moon was there, almost palpable, pulling at him with the weight of a secret reminder.

He could feel it in every nerve, a low thrum beneath his skin, as if the world itself whispered the day’s significance.

Sirius was unusually still beside him, his usual smirk and banter absent. He caught Remus’s subtle grimaces, the way his shoulders tensed and relaxed unevenly, but said nothing.

Between classes, Lily slipped quietly beside him, pressing a small pouch of chocolates into his palm with a knowing smile. “For later,” she said softly, her eyes steady and kind.

Remus nodded, a warmth blooming in his chest beyond the sweetness of the treats.

The afternoon passed in a similar haze, until at last, evening crept close, heavy with the night’s impending transformation.

In the dim corridor near their dormitory, Sirius pulled Remus aside, lowering his voice. “So, how do you want to do this tonight? Getting out without James or Peter noticing is going to be tricky.”

Remus took a breath. “The invisibility cloak should work.”

Sirius nodded. “Right. And the willow?”

“Press the knot at the base of its roots. It opens into the tunnel.” Remus’ voice was quiet, but steady, as if grounding himself in the facts helped dull the sharp edge of what was coming.

“Can you wait for me at the tree?” Sirius asked, hopeful.

Remus shook his head. “The longer I wait, the worse the pain. The transformation… delaying it just makes it harder.”

Sirius’s eyes darkened with concern. “I want to be there when it happens. For you.”

Remus hesitated, a flicker of doubt crossing his face. “Sirius, I don’t know–”

“I’ve already seen it,” Sirius interrupted him. “I just want to be there. To help.”

Remus let out a breath, the weight of the night pressing down. “Then you’d better move quickly.”

They shared a quiet moment before turning to prepare for the long hours ahead. Together. 

The cave was quiet except for the soft lapping of water against stone, and the faint shimmer of magic. Remus had cast a spell, conjuring scattering twinkling lights that hung suspended in the cool air, like the faint glow of stars. It was subtle, far softer than the riotous charmwork James had unleashed at his birthday party, but enough to keep the shadows at bay.

Remus crouched at the edge of the Black Lake, still fully clothed, his fingers trailing against the water’s surface. He breathed deeply, the scent of the lake filling his lungs, grounding him in the hidden refuge.

The quiet was broken by a soft shuffle near the cave’s entrance. Sirius stepped out of the tunnel and into the cave, the invisibility cloak hung careless over one shoulder. He hesitated for a moment, as if measuring the air between them.

“Hey,” Sirius said quietly, voice low but steady. “How are you feeling?”

Remus didn’t bother with much of a reply, the pull was already strong, tightening like a coil in his chest. “I’m going in now,” he said simply.

Without another word, he began to peel off his jumper, the fabric slipping away as Sirius’s eyes caught his. When their gazes met, Sirius quickly looked down, cheeks coloring. “Some privacy?” Remus said, but not unkind.

Sirius flushed but obeyed, turning his back with an exaggerated sigh.

The water was cold when Remus slipped in, a shock that bit into his skin but stilled the restless ache inside. He submerged fully, the lake swallowing him whole, and the cave filled with the sounds of water shifting around him.

Moments later, Remus groaned, low and primal, the sound echoing off the stone walls as his head emerged from the water. Sirius was looking back at him, watching the first ripples of magic begin to swirl beneath the surface. 

The ripples eventually stilled, and Remus’s newly formed tail flicked once, sending a small wave rolling across the cave’s dark water. He was fully transformed: a merman, as he had been so many times before, but entirely different this time.

Sirius crouched down beside him on the stone ledge, watching quietly.

“I usually spend the night down in the lake,” Remus said softly, voice carrying just enough across the water. “I don’t really know what to do with you here.” He gave a small shiver that betrayed the chill of the March water.

Sirius immediately reached out and pulled the navy-blue cloak from beside him. “Here,” he said, lifting the shimmering fabric into the water. “Thought you might need this.”

Remus took the cloak, feeling it slide around his shoulders, the warmth blooming instantly through the fabric and into his skin. The buoyancy enchantments kept it from dragging him down, and the silky texture moved like water itself. He blinked, amazed at how much difference it made.

“Thank you,” Remus said, his voice thick with gratitude. “This…this is perfect. Really.”

Sirius smiled, watching the way the cloak hugged Remus’s form, the faint shimmer catching the light of the twinkling spells. The quiet between them was easy, comfortable, full of unspoken things. Remus swam closer to the edge, resting his chin against the stone ledge, keeping the rest of his body cocooned in the cloak beneath the surface. Sirius’s fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from Remus’s face gently, but Remus didn’t pull away.

Minutes passed like this, the world narrowing to the soft glow of the cave and the steady rhythm of the lake.

Eventually, Sirius yawned, a wide yawn that made Remus grin despite himself.

“You should sleep,” Remus said softly.

Sirius reached over and grabbed Remus’s sweater, neatly folded in his classic pile nearby, and used it as a pillow. He flopped down sideways on the stone ledge, resting his head on the soft fabric. 

Remus shook his head, amused. “You’re a menace.”

Sirius grinned up at him, voice teasing. “Well, someone’s got to keep you on your toes, Moony.”

Remus flicked a small splash of water at him. Sirius yelped and laughed. “Oi! Cold!”

“Are you going to be okay?” Remus asked, concern softening his voice. “Warm enough and all that?”

Sirius waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about me. I’m tougher than I look.”

Remus eased back into the water, letting himself float on his back. The coolness lapped gently against his skin, but the warmth of the enchanted cloak kept the chill at bay. Above him, Sirius lay sideways on the rocky ledge.

“So,” Sirius began quietly. “What’s it like down there?”

Remus let out a slow breath, eyes on the cavern ceiling. “Swimming itself feels amazing,” he said. “Like…I don’t know. Like I was meant for it. It’s freeing in a way nothing else is.”

Sirius tilted his head. “Like flying on a broom?”

Remus gave him a dry look. “You know I hate flying.”

Sirius chuckled, unbothered. “Right, forgot you’re tragically earthbound.”

The smile lingered, but the amusement in Sirius’s face slowly faded into something quieter as Remus floated closer to the stone ledge, his voice dropping lower.

“But the lake,” he continued. “It’s big. Intimidating. There are things in there….creatures and magic, I don’t even understand half of it. I never quite feel like I belong down there. But I don’t exactly belong up here either, do I?” 

Sirius shifted, turning more fully toward the water, resting his weight on one elbow. He didn’t speak right away. His gaze was steady and kind.

“You don’t have to fly to be free, I suppose,” he said. “You’ve got your own way of escaping.”

“It’s not escape, exactly,” Remus murmured. “It’s the only time I feel like my body…makes sense.”

Sirius’s gaze softened. “You don’t have to be alone in it.”

“I know,” Remus said. He looked at Sirius, really looked at him, and something in his face softened. “I’m grateful you’re here. More than you know.”

They stayed like that for a while - Remus floating quietly under the enchanted cloak, Sirius stretched out on the stone with Remus’s sweater bunched beneath his cheek. The lights above shimmered like stars, and the water lapped gently at the rock. 

Eventually, Sirius’s breathing slowed, falling into an easy rhythm. He shifted once more, curling slightly towards the water’s edge, one arm tucked beneath his head and eyes drifting closed.

Remus watched him for a long moment, a small smile tugging at his lips. The last thing Remus saw before vanishing into the depths was the steady rise and fall of Sirius’s chest, just above the ledge, just close enough to remind him he wasn’t completely alone.

Then, with barely a ripple, he turned and slipped below the surface, the blue cloak flowing around him like smoke. 

Chapter Text

Morning broke, slow and grey over the lake, the sun a muted blur behind thick clouds rolling across the sky. Far below the surface, in the still, cold depths, the first hints of light filtered down in pale streaks, brushing against Remus’s sleeping form. He stirred gradually, the water lapping softly around him, the familiar pressure in his chest loosening as wakefulness crept in. The weight of the night’s transformation still lingered in his bones, but the ache was less sharp this time.

With a long, fluid stretch of his tail, Remus propelled himself upward through the dark, heading back toward the cave. As he approached the surface of the cave pool, he barely caused a ripple in the water. 

The cavern met him with its usual hush. The twinking spell he’d cast the night before had long since faded, leaving the space dim and cool, lit only by the silver-gray of the morning light that slipped in through the cracks.

Sirius was already awake.

He sat cross-legged near the edge of the water, wand balanced between his fingers, flicking it in lazy arcs as he cast simple, harmless charms in the air, floating sparks and puffs of mist.

His hair was a mess. Remus’s sweater was still bunched beneath him. But Sirius’s eyes were alert, and despite the damp chill of the cave, he looked like he was waiting.

Remus moved closer, silently. Just his eyes remained above the waterline, watching his friend with the silent amusement of a predator ready to pounce.

He struck without warning, flicking a sharp splash of water toward the ledge.

Sirius yelped and scrambled to his feet, slipping on the wet stone. Then, with a dramatic splash and a startled curse, he fell straight into the water.

Remus laughed, full and unguarded, that rang through the cave. He swam over, grabbing Sirius by the arm and steadying him as he surfaced, sputtering.

“You absolute traitor,” Sirius gasped, hair plastered to his face, his expression a perfect mix of outrage and theatrical indignation. “I could’ve died, you know. Drowned. A tragic end. Mourned by all.”

“You looked like you needed a bath,” Remus said lightly, a grin still on his face.

“You’re lucky I like you,” Sirius muttered, shivering hard.

Remus guided them back toward the ledge. “Take the cloak,” he said gently, slipping the still-warm blue fabric from around his own shoulders and holding it out. “You’re freezing.”

“What about you?” 

“I’ll be warm enough once I’m out. You need it more.”

Sirius didn’t argue. He took the cloak and pulled it around himself with a grateful noise, clambering back onto the rock. He turned and offered his hand.

Remus took it.

Their fingers gripped tightly, Sirius hauling with all his strength to pull Remus out. His tail, heavy with water, shimmered one last time in the morning light before beginning to vanish.

The transformation back was smooth, less painful than usual, and when Remus blinked against the cool air, he realized that, for the first time in a long time, the cold wasn’t bone-deep. It didn’t stay and cling to him.

He could still feel it, but it was passing.

He felt…okay.

He turned slightly, suddenly aware of his state of undress. Sirius had respectfully turned away, fiddling with the hem of the blue cloak and glancing around like he was pretending to give privacy, though his ears were flushed pink.

Remus reached for his wand, still nestled neatly beside his pile of clothes, and flicked it with a whispered charm. A warm breeze swept over both of them, drying their dripping clothes and hair in an instant.

He tugged on his trousers quickly, and, as he went to grab his shirt resting on top, he noticed a small handful of chocolates. He huffed a quiet laugh and popped one into his mouth.

Sirius glanced back at the sound. “Courtesy of Lily,” he said.

“I figured,” Remus murmured, chewing slowly. “She’s very persistent.”

Remus tossed a chocolate toward Sirius, who caught it with a grin and popped it into his mouth.

Remus pulled his sweater over his head, the fabric still slightly warm from where Sirius had used it as a pillow. As it settled against his skin, he caught a faint trace of Sirius’s scent, something familiar and warm, like parchment and smoke. His hands paused for a moment, tempted to lift the collar to his face and breathe it in.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he looked over at Sirius, who was sitting cross-legged, chewing contentedly.

“Ready?” Sirius asked. Remus nodded with a smile. 

The dorm was still dark and quiet when Sirius and Remus slipped in, careful not to wake James or Peter. They shared a brief, tired smile before heading to their respective beds.

Breakfast in the Great Hall was lively as usual. James, Peter, Sirius, and Remus were gathered around their usual table, animatedly plotting their latest prank. James and Peter were caught up in their scheming, their voices low but excited.

“We’re going to rig Snape’s cauldon to bubble over at the worst possible moment,” James said, eyes gleaming. “Can you imagine? Mr. Perfect-Potions-Prince, failing at making a potion? The look on his face!”

Peter nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah, but we’ll have to be careful. Snape’s quick with counter-charms.”

Lily sat nearby, arms crossed and lips pressed into a thin line, her gaze flickering between the boys with quiet disapproval. She said nothing, but her disappointment was clear.

Sirius leaned back, arms crossed, looking particularly smug.

“You’re sure monkshood’ll react the way we want?” Peter asked under his breath.

“It’s reactive,” Sirius said with a shrug. “Let’s see how it responds to that greasy git.”

Remus raised an eyebrow from across the table, but didn’t say anything. There was a flicker of unease, but he couldn’t explain it. 

James glanced up. “So, Moony - how was your evening? Feeling alright?”

Remus forced a small smile. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

James frowned slightly. “You sure you’re okay? If you need help with anything-”

Remus shook his head. “I’m good.”

On Thursday, the Marauders gathered in the dungeon for Potions, already buzzing with excitement about their planned prank. James was practically bouncing in his seat, Peter fidgeting with his cauldron, and Sirius was grinning.

Lily sat next to Remus at an adjacent table from the other boys, arms crossed, shooting them all a pointed, but she didn’t say a word.

Slughorn entered the classroom jovial as always, his eyes twinkling as he greeted the class. “Good morning, everyone! Let’s make today a memorable one, shall we?”

“Couldn’t agree more, Sluggy,” James said to Peter with a smirk.

“Today,” he announced. “We’re going to be brewing a hexbreaker elixir. In particular, we’re going to be using monkshood root in our draughts today. Anyone know what monkshood is?”

Lily immediately raised her hand.

“Yes, Ms. Evans?”

“Monkshood root is an ingredient known to interact with certain magical auras. While it is typically considered a stable ingredient in most potions, it has rare reactions when exposed to elemental magic. Monkshood in particular is linked to magical transformation, often ‘resetting’ a magical body..”

“Very good, Ms. Evans, very good,” Slughorn continued. 

Something about what Lily said nagged at Remus, but he couldn’t quite figure out what. 

The students paired off, and the lesson began.

Halfway through the class, Sirius leaned toward James, barely containing his grin. “Ready?”

James flicked his wand beneath the table, whispering a small, invisible hex they’d prepared earlier. “Now we are.”

They’d charmed Snape’s monkshood root to release a delayed burst of fire-fizz when it hit the heat. Nothing too dangerous, just enough to disrupt the brew and scorch his cauldron.

Remus, across the table, raised a brow. “It’s not going to actually burn him, is it?”

“Nah,” Sirius said casually. “Just going to knock him down a few notches. He needs it.”

Peter snicked. “Watch it be the only potion he ever flubs in his life.”

Lily, seated beside Remus, casts a long, knowing look at the boys.

Across the room, Snape added the monkshood root to his brew. And a loud crack echoed as a fizzing green foam exploded upward, dousing his cauldron, his robes, and several nearby tables, including Remus’s, in bubbling ooze. Students shrieked and scrambled back. 

Snape stumbled back, furious, his hair splattered with bubbling potion.

Slughorn blinked. “Good heavens!”

“What did you put in there, Snivellus?” Sirius asked innocently, eyes wide.

Snape glared at him, dark eyes full of suspicion. “Nothing I shouldn’t have.”

Even Lily had covered her mouth, trying not to smile. 

Amid the chaos, Remus quietly reached for a cloth to wipe away a small spill of potion near him. But the moment it touched his skin, he hissed, jerking his hand back.

The sting was sharp, almost electric. 

It was subtle, but a few people noticed. 

Peter frowned. “Did it burn you?”

Remus shook his head. “Just hot,” he lied, immediately dropping the cloth and not touching it again.

James raised an eyebrow. “You alright, Moony?”

“I’m fine,” he said, a little too fast.

Lily’s brow furrowed deeply. She reached over and began helping clean the mess, her eyes never quite leaving him. She didn’t speak, but her silence was heavy with understanding.

Across the room, Snape crouched over the remains of his ruined potion. His gaze flicked from the cauldron…to Remus.

He wasn’t angry. At least not at Remus.

He was calculating.

And that was worse.

Chapter Text

The corridors of the castle were cool and dim, the dungeons’ chill lingering even as students filed out of Potions. Most were still snickering about the prank. Whispers about Snape’s ruined cauldron, his smoke-drenched hair, the sharp crack of fizzing foam echoing throughout the halls. But not everyone was laughing.

Lily walked briskly, her satchel bouncing at her hip, jaw set like stone. She didn’t look at James or Peter as they congratulated themselves in the hall. Instead, her eyes kept darting toward Remus, who trailed behind her in silence.

Sirius walked beside him, unusually quiet.

When they reached the base of the moving staircases, Lily suddenly turned. “Common room. Now.”

Sirius blinked. “What?”

“You heard me. We need to talk.”

She didn’t wait for agreement. She just turned on her heel and marched off, her red hair flashing like a warning sign.

Remus sighed. “This should be fun.”

They followed her through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room, which was mostly empty. A few first-years were playing wizard’s chess in the corner. A sixth-year was asleep in an armchair with a book on her chest.

Lily led them to the far corner near the windows, where no one could overhear. She dropped her bag onto the floor, cast a quick muffliato, just in case, and crossed her arms.

Sirius flopped onto the couch. “If this is about the prank, I’ll take full credit, Evans. Moony had nothing to do with it.”

“It’s not about the prank,” Lily said. “Though, yes, you are reckless, smug idiots and should count your lucky stars that Slughorn didn’t catch you.”

Sirius looked smug anyway. “Is that all?’

“No,” she said, then turned to Remus. “I want to know what happened when you touched the monkshood.”

Remus blinked. “What?”

“In class,” she said, her voice low but firm. “You winced. Like it burned.”

“It didn’t-”

“Don’t lie to me, Remus,” she snapped, his name on her lips sharper than usual. “You flinched. You dropped the cloth like it stung you.”

He swallowed. “You think it reacted to me.”

“I know it did,” she replied. “The monkshood. It doesn’t just react to any magic. It’s usually very stable, but whatever hex you put on Severus’s... It reacts differently to classical elements.”

“Classical elements…”

“Earth. Fire. Air…”

“Water,” Sirius murmured.

Lily nodded. “Water.”

He nodded slowly. “That tracks.” 

“Most witches and wizards don’t have a strong enough elemental signature for it to matter. But beings like elemental spirits, and apparently merfolk, are exceptions. Reactive monkshood flares when it detects something it can’t neutralize. Your aura disrupted the draught the second you touched it.”

Sirius’s expression turned thoughtful. “It didn’t even touch your skin directly. Just soaked through the cloth.”

“That was enough,” Lily said. “It’s about magical resonance. The full moon was on Tuesday, your aura is stronger. You’re holding more of your magic close to the surface.” She paused. “Excuse the pun.”

Sirius snickered. 

Remus nodded, quiet. He looked down at his hand, where he had touched the cloth. The electric pain disappeared the second he let go of the cloth, but the sensation lingered.

“Snape noticed,” Remus muttered.

“What?” Sirius burst.

“I know,” Lily said. “So did Peter.”

There was a short silence. 

“I tried to play it off,” Remus said. “but…Snape’s not stupid.”

“No. He’s not,” Lily agreed. “And Peter is brilliant at herbology. If he knows anything about monkshood, it’s only a bit of research to start connecting some dots. You need to be careful. They could start digging.”

“I am being careful,” Remus snapped. Then caught himself. “Sorry.”

Sirius reached down and gave his shoulder a quick squeeze. “It’s not your fault. We didn’t know.”

“Now we do,” Lily said. “Which means we can make a plan.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “To what, outmaneuver Snape?”

“To get ahead of him,” she said firmly. “He’s suspicious, but he doesn’t know what you are. Not yet. But if he starts connecting dots, we’ll have to be ready.”

Sirius sat forward. “I could…plant something. Give him a different mystery to chase.”

Lily gave him a withering look. “Please don’t make things worse.”

Remus gave a tired smile. “No exploding cauldrons?”

“Especially not that.”

They lapsed into a brief thoughtful silence.

Then Lily spoke again, gentler this time. “You’re okay though, right? It didn’t actually hurt you?”

Remus hesitated. “It didn’t feel like a burn. More like…an electric zap.”

Remus looked between the two of them. Sirius was tense and watchful, Lily, brows furrowed, looked at him with worry. 

“I hate this,” he said softly, rubbing his hands down his face. “Hiding. Lying. Being afraid every time someone gets too close.”

“You don’t have to be afraid of us,” Lily said.

“Never,” Sirius added.

Remus smiled faintly, grateful for his friends.

Then Lily’s eyes narrowed. “Although, if you ever try to clean up dangerous potion residue with your bare hands again, I will hex you, Remus Lupin.”

“Noted.”

Chapter Text

It started small.

Peter never asked outright, but over the next few days, Remus could feel the subtle shift in his behavior. He watched Remus a little too closely, lingered near his desk a little too long, and twice now, had “accidentally” bumped into him while they were headed down to the common room, only to murmur vague apologies and ask how he was feeling.

Always with that same careful tone, like he was fishing for something beneath the words.

Remus tried not to let it get to him. But by the following Friday, the tension was beginning to wear thin.

They were halfway through a quiet afternoon in the library, pretending to work on their Transfiguration essays. James was flipping through his notes, Sirius was slouched low in his chair reading upside-down for some unknowable reason, and Peter was…watching Remus. Or rather, watching his hands. 

Remus shifted uncomfortably. “What?” James and Sirius both looked up from what they were doing.

Peter blinked. “What?”

“You’re staring at me.”

Peter’s face went pink. “Was not.”

“You were,” Sirius accused. “You’ve been staring at him all week.”

“I have not—  I just. I was just wondering…” Peter stammered, then leaned forward. “You didn’t get burned in Potions, right? So, what happened?”

James had paused what he was doing mid-quill stroke, gaze bounding between Pete and Remus.

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “You hissed when the potion touched you, didn’t you?”

Remus said nothing, suddenly very aware of the heat creeping up the back of his neck.

“It wasn’t that hot,” Peter continued. “And it wasn’t acidic. Snape got it all over himself and he’s fine.”

“I’m just more sensitive,” Remus said tightly.

“To foam?” James asked.

There was a long silence.

Sirius finally sat upright. “Alright, no one is doing anything productive, and Moony’s going to bite someone. Let’s take a break.”

He stood and stretched. “Back in ten,” he added before striding toward the stacks, a book tucked under his arm.

Remus didn’t follow right away, trying instead to refocus on his essay. But after a few awkward beats of Peter still glancing at him, he shoved back from the table and followed Sirius between the shelves.

He found him in the Magical Theory section. Sirius was crouched near the bottom row, flipping open the cover of a familiar book: Magical Currents: A Study in Elemental Influence and Waterborne Hexes . The same book Remus had seen Sirius reading before he knew the truth.

Remus’s heart sank.

“You still have that?’ he asked.

“Never turned it in,” Sirius replied. “And I pulled it out of Peter’s bag just now when he wasn’t looking.”

“What?”

“They were whispering in the dorm last night. James had the book. Peter was asking questions…about aquatic transformations.”

Remus rubbed his face. “Of course they were.”

Sirius shut the book gently and stood up. “I think we’re out of time, Remus.”

Remus sighed, leaning back against the nearest shelf. “What do we do?”

“Tell them.”

“Just like that?”

“Yes. Or show them.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s too cold outside to willingly throw myself into the lake just to prove I’ve got fins.”

“I wasn’t thinking the lake,” Sirius said with a grin. “I was thinking the prefects’ bathroom. Big pool, loads of space. Private if we time it right. Lily could help.”

“Too risky,” Remus said. “Too many chances to get caught.”

“You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

Sirius stepped close, voice low. “Then what do you want to do?”

Remus hesitated. Then: “Sit them down. Tell them the truth. No theatrics, no dramatic reveals. Just…talk.”

“You think they’ll believe you?”

Remus gave a weak smile. “They’re my best mates. They should .”

Sirius didn’t respond right away. Then, quietly, “And if they don’t?”

Remus’s expression faltered.

Sirius looked down, then reached out and gave Remus’s sleeve a light tug. “Hey. I will. I already do. That’s one out of three.”

“Yeah,” Remus said softly, “and you always were the hardest to convince.”

Sirius grinned. “I’m a skeptic. Comes with the territory.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of the secret between them thick as ever. But for once, it felt like something they could handle.

Finally, Remus nodded. “Tonight. After dinner.”

“Both of them?”

“Yes.”

Sirius tucked the book back under his arm. “Alright. Talking it is.”

“Thank you,” Remus said quietly. 

“Don’t thank me yet,” Sirius replied. “We have to get through the talking first.”

The dormitory was unusually quiet after dinner. Remus sat stiffly on the edge of his bed, hands clasped tightly in his lap. Peter hovered near the wardrobe, arms folded across his chest, eyes flicking from Remus to the others. James stood by the window, trying, and failing, to pretend he wasn’t anxious. He was tugging absently at a loose thread on his pajamas. Sirius leaned against the bedpost, arms crossed, his usual smirk replaced by something much more severe.

The tension between the four of them was thick enough to bottle.

Remus cleared his throat. “Alright. Can we– can we talk? All of us?”

Sirius let out a short breath, and said, “A house meeting?” He glanced around with a crooked smile, trying to ease the tension. “Should I get the minutes started?”

Remus didn’t smile. Neither did Peter.

Sirius’s attempt wilted.

Peter gave a jerky nod and slowly perched on the trunk at the end of his bed, facing Remus. James wandered over, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Is this about what happened earlier?” he asked, quiet but direct.

Remus nodded. He looked down at his hands. “I know something’s been…weird. I’ve always been a bit odd. And I’ve been worried before. But I’m ready now. I want you to know the truth.”

Peter tensed slightly. “Is it…are you ill?” he asked.

Remus looked up, startled. “What? No. No, nothing like that.”

James sat down at the end of Sirius’s bed. “We’re not mad, mate,” He said. “We’re just worried. Something’s going on, and you’ve been dodging questions for a while. Well, years, really.”

Sirius shifted, but still said nothing, gaze fixed on Remus with a look of cautious encouragement.

Remus took a breath, then another. “You know how…every month, I disappear. You’ve always known. You assumed I was sick, or cursed, or…I don’t know, a werewolf.” He trailed off.

James’s brow furrowed. “You’re not…?”

Remus shook his head. Peter stayed frozen, wide-eyed.

“I’m not a werewolf,” Remus said, voice steady now, though his hands trembled slightly. “I’m not sick. I’m not dangerous.”

He looked at them. Even Sirius. 

“I’m…I’m not human, though. Not fully.”

The words seemed to stretch in the air between them.

Peter’s mouth opened like he wanted to speak, but nothing came out.

James blinked slowly. “Okay,” he said carefully. “What does that mean?”

Remus’s throat bobbed. “I’m a merman.”

There was a pause.

Then, too short, too sharp, a laugh escaped James. “Come on, Remus.” 

Sirius’s eyes snapped to him. “He’s serious.”

James grinned. “No, you’re Sirius.”

Remus groaned and put his face in his hands. “Not the time, Prongs.”

James blinked, the last of his amusement draining. “Wait.” He looked between Sirius and Remus. “Wait, wait. You’re not joking?”

Sirius stood up straight, tone firm. “Does this seem like a joke?”

Peter had gone ghost-pale. “So you– you mean like…with fins? And scales?”

Remus nodded. 

James looked stricken. “Is that why you disappear? To…swim?”

“Every full moon,” Remus replied.

“Where?”

“The lake.”

Peter’s voice was barely a whisper. “That’s why the potion hurt you.”

“Yeah,” Remus said again. “Something about elemental magic.”

James scrubbed a hand over his face. “Bloody hell.”

They all sat in stunned silence. Sirius stepped away from the bedpost, slowly crossing the room until he was standing beside Remus.

“I know it sounds mental,” Remus said. “I get that.”

Peter asked, “But how do we know- I mean, you don’t look—“  He gestured vaguely, like he didn’t quite know what he was trying to say.

Remus glanced at Sirius, who gave the slightest nod. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to show you,” he said. “But I will. If you need proof.”

James raised a brow. “You can…what, turn into one? Right now?”

“No,” Remus said. “I have to be in water. I need to be able to submerge fully.”

Sirius perked up slightly. “The prefects’ bathroom–”

“Sirius, ” Remus interrupted. “No. It’s too risky.”

Peter still looked unconvinced, but was quieter now. James sat with his head in his hands, muttering. “A merman. Merlin’s hairy–”

“It’s still me,” Remus said softly. “I haven’t changed. I’ve always been this way. The whole time you’ve known me.”

James looked up at him again. His expression was different now, like something in him had settled. “I know,” he said. “I’m just trying to wrap my head around it. I can’t really picture you as…”

Remus gave a small nod, but his shoulders slumped, like he’d been holding that breath for years.

Sirius clapped a hand gently on his shoulder. “Told you they’d believe you.”

Peter still seemed shaky, but he managed a jerky nod. “You’re still Remus,” he said, voice higher than usual. “Just…you know…with fins.”

James stood and gave him a small smile. “So…what do we do now? Pretend we don’t know? Help you hide the secret? Start a merman fan club?”

“James,” Remus said with a laugh.

“Not the time for jokes?” James asked sheepishly.

Remus shook his head, but Sirius and James were grinning at each other.

“Right,” James continued. “Later then.”

Sirius was still grinning. “But I’m definitely president of the Merman Fan Club.”

Chapter Text

For the next few days, life carried on with a bizarre, almost unnatural normalcy.

James was James - still tossing dungbombs in the corridors with Sirius, still getting detention for spelling the castle’s portraits to bark like a dog every time Filch walked by, still debating with Marlene over which Chudley Cannons player was the most overrated, before turning the debate into a full-table yelling match that had even Lily chiming in.. 

The only difference now was that James would occasionally nudge Remus with a grin and whisper things like, “Think you could outswim a grindylow?” 

Remus always rolled his eyes with a tiny smile on his lips, while James just laughed.

James really hadn’t changed. Not even slightly. 

But Peter…

Peter was a bit different. Quiet. He still smiled politely at Remus, still sat beside him at meals, asking about homework, and laughed at James’ impressions of Peeves. But things were off, as if he was always being careful. There was something new in his face, something tight and watchful. Like he was studying Remus instead of talking to him.

Remus tried to ignore it. Tried to convince himself he was imagining it. But then, one night, it all cracked open. 

Remus had left dinner with Lily, Marlene, and Mary early with a headache. The castle felt too loud, too full of laughter and clatter. He wanted quiet and an early night.

He was halfway down the dormitory cordifor when he heard voices from behind the closed door to their room.

Peter’s voice was sharp. “I’m just saying, it’s not normal.”

Remus froze.

There was a pause, then a quieter: “He’s not…he’s not exactly a real wizard, is he?”

“Pete,” Sirius said, a dark warning in his tone. “Don’t.”

“You saw what the potion did to him. What if more of it touched him? What if something worse happens next time?”

“It’s monkshood root,” James said, and Remus could hear the frown in his voice. “That stuff reacts to elemental magic. Remus has water magic. It’s not a big deal.”

“You’re missing the point!” Peter hissed. “What else don’t we know? What if he’s dangerous? You’ve heard the stories about the merfolk in the Black Lake.”

Remus’s stomach turned to stone.

“He’s not like that,” Sirius snapped. “I’ve known about Remus longer than you have. He’s not dangerous.”

The silence that followed was deafening. 

Peter didn’t argue again, at least not audibly, but he didn’t apologize either.

Remus didn’t wait to hear anything more. 

He backed away quietly, quickly, his shoes silent against the carpeted corridor. His head was buzzing, his chest tightening. By the time he reached the common room, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. His vision was blurry, but it wasn’t from his headache.

He hadn’t cried in years, but it came easily now. Hot, quick, silent. He rubbed at his face with his sleeves as he pushed out the portrait hole, the Fat Lady giving a startled noise as he slipped through without a word.

“Remus?” Lily’s voice called from behind him.

He didn’t stop.

“Remus, wait!” she shouted at him. 

But he couldn’t. He shook his head, didn’t look back, and kept walking, jaw clenched, shoulders rigid, and eyes stinging. The corridor ahead of him was cold and empty, and that suited him just fine. 

He didn’t know where he was going until he was already outside, the wind cutting sharp lines against his skin.

The grounds were dark and empty. The castle behind him glowed with warm windows and laughter he didn’t want to face. He kept walking, faster, down toward the old willow, boots slipping on wet leaves. His breath puffed in the air, pale against the black.

He didn’t slow until he reached the mouth of the cave. It welcomed him like an old friend.

He peeled off his clothes without thinking, folding them carefully beside the water’s edge. His enchanted warming cloak was still back at the dorm. He hadn’t even thought to bring it.

Fine. Let it be cold.

The water hit him like knives, but he didn’t flinch.

Instead, he stepped in deeper. And deeper.

The transformation came slowly, smoothly. There was no pain this time. No panic. Just…stillness.

A gift, maybe. Or a reward. For surrendering to it willingly. 

His legs formed into one shimmering tail of bronze scales. The gills at his ribs fluttered open, and his lungs shifted, memory pulling him back into something familiar. His body adjusted as if it had always belonged there.

So he sank below the surface. Down into the dark and the silence.

The water swallowed him.

He didn’t swim, exactly. He just floated in place, arms loose at his sides, tail flowing beneath him like a ribbon.

His eyes stayed closed.

There were no more tears. 

He didn’t hear the footsteps at first, not until they echoed faintly through the stone, distorted by the water.

“Remus?” Lily’s voice. “Are you in here?”
He didn’t answer.

Then another voice. “Moony?”

Sirius.

And then- “Bloody hell .” James’s voice was breathless.

Remus opened his eyes and slowly rose from the pool. Water trailed down his skin, hair clinging to his face. His tail glittered in the low light of their wands.

Sirius stepped forward and lifted his wand, casting the charm for soft, suspended lights, which bloomed across the dark cavern like fireflies. The space filled with a low, reverent glow.

James looked like someone had just punched him in the chest.

Remus hovered at the surface, not saying a word.

James stepped forward, his mouth parting. “That’s…that’s actually you .”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Told you.”

James looked stricken. “You’re– Merlin, Moony, you’re beautiful.”

Sirius nudged him in the ribs, but it was Lily who came forward next. She crouched near the edge, her green eyes soft and open.

“They told me what Peter said,” Lily said. “You heard them talking?”

Remus’ gills flared and closed. He looked away.

“I’m sorry, mate,” James said, joining her. “Peter’s scared. People say stupid things when they’re scared.”

“I know who I am,” Remus said. His voice echoed softly through the cave. “But sometimes I forget other people can’t always make the image in their head line up with the truth. With what I am.”

Lily reached out and touched Remus’s arm. “You’re not alone, Remus. Not now.”

Sirius crouched beside her, his eyes never leaving Remus’s face. “I’d swim with you, if I could.”

“You’d drown,” Remus said, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Is that a challenge?” Sirius grinned.

“Alright. That settles it,” James interrupted. “You lot aren’t allowed to mock me ever again for my Animagus idea. Not when Moony’s been secretly turning into this every month.”

Remus gave a low, echoing laugh. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah,” James replied cheerfully, throwing his arms around Lily and Sirius. “But I’m your idiot.” 

Remus propped his elbows on the rock ledge, resting his chin on his arms as his tail flicked lazily through the water behind him. The night air cooled his damp skin, but the warmth of his friends eased the deeper chill.

James dropped down cross-legged on the stone beside Lily, still staring openly like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

“So…d’you eat raw fish, then? Or do you like…go hunting for seaweed?”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Yes, James, I nibble on kelp and do synchronized swimming routines with the giant squid.”

James’s face lit up. “Do you know the giant squid?”

“We nod when we pass. Professional courtesy.”

Lily laughed softly, and James turned to look at her like he couldn’t believe he’d actually earned that sound.

“You alright there, Evans?”

She blinked. “Yeah.” Then, “You’re… not nearly as annoying when you’re not trying to impress someone.”

James grinned. “Maybe I’m evolving.”

Lily raised a brow. “We’ll see.”

Remus smirked, watching the exchange with a quiet fondness. The heaviness in his chest was still there, but it wasn’t suffocating now. 

Sirius was quieter now. He sat apart from the others, perched on a boulder just above the pool, eyes fixed on Remus. Watching the flick of his tail, the shimmer of scales, the way he moved in the water without thinking.

Remus caught him staring. “You alright, Pads?”

Sirius startled, just slightly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

James gave him a look, amused but pointed, and Sirius flicked a pebble at him.

“Careful,” Remus said dryly. “Skip that wrong, and I might go full sea monster on you.”

“You wouldn’t,” Sirius said with a smirk. “You like me too much.”

The words hung in the air longer than they should have. Remus didn’t blink, just looked at him. And Sirius didn’t look away either. 

Remus didn’t blink. Just looked at him. And Sirius didn’t look away either.

James cleared his throat. “So! Next full moon, we’ll all just pop down here and have a splash about, yeah?”

“You’d drown,” Remus and Sirius said at the same time.

“Not if I had gills,” James argued, nudging Lily. “Reckon you could brew something for that?”

“Absolutely not,” she said, smiling again. “I’m not enabling whatever half-baked idea this is.”

But Sirius caught the hesitation in her tone. “So… there is a way?”

“I mean,” she started, clearly regretting speaking up at all. “I've read some things. Nothing safe. Mostly theoretical. Gillyweed, certain charms, advanced magic. But it’s not anything I’d be willing to try, yet.”

James leaned forward. “But it exists?”

“It exists,” she admitted. “But if it goes wrong…”

Her eyes flicked to Remus, and for a beat, no one said anything.

Sirius’s voice dropped. “Still. It’s something.”

Remus met his eyes. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Right.” Sirius dropped back down. “But still…good to know.”

Silence settled again, filled only by the soft lap of water against stone. Remus slowly moved his tail, gentle swishes back and forth, letting the feel of the water soothe him.

James broke the quiet with a grin. “Honestly, mate, I still can’t believe it. Our quiet, rule-following Moony turns out to be bloody Poseidon.”

“Don’t call me Poseidon,” Remus groaned.

“Neptune, then?”

“James."

“Fish boy?”

“That one’s taken!” Sirius called brightly. 

“Oh my god,” Remus muttered. 

James snorted, then leaned back on his elbows, smiling up at the ceiling. “Still. It’s brilliant, though. You’re brilliant, Moony.”

Something loosened in Remus’s chest. He hadn’t realized until now just how badly he’d feared this moment going differently.

Lily glanced at him, then at James, then at Sirius. Her gaze lingered a little bit longer on Sirius, as if seeing clearly for the first time how Sirius saw Remus. 

Finally, Sirius stood and brushed off his robes. “Alright. We should get back. Come on, merman. Let’s get you dried off.”

He offered a hand, and Remus took it.

Water poured from his skin as he rose. The transformation came easily again. His tail receded, and his legs returned. Lily handed him chocolate without a word, then he dressed in silence.

And together, the four of them left the cave behind.

Chapter Text

The Great Hall was bathed in soft spring sunlight that Sunday morning, filtered through the high windows. Outside, the grounds were beginning to thaw, but the late March air was still crisp with the lingering winter. Inside, spoons clinked against porridge bowls and owls flapped lazily overhead. 

But at the Gryffindor table, something was off.

Remus felt it the moment he sat down.

Peter, already halfway through a piece of toast, stiffened and looked away. He muttered something about needing jam and stood abruptly, disappearing down the table. He didn’t come back.

By the time that James, Sirius, and Remus made it back to the dorm the night before, Peter’s bed curtains were closed tightly.

Now, James glanced after him, brows drawn together. 

“It’s fine, mates,” James said. “Probably realized he forgot to do the Transfiguration homework, or something.”

Remus didn’t say anything.

He swirled his porridge absently, watching the milk swirl around the bowl. 

“Sleep alright?” Lily asked gently from across the table. Her voice was casual, but her eyes were sharp.

Remus shrugged. “Yeah. Fine.” 

In truth, it was probably one of the best nights of sleep Remus had gotten in years.

Still. 

Sirius shot him a look. Not quite worried. Just…watchful. 

James, trying as always to diffuse the tension, nudged a folded bit of parchment toward Sirius. “Marauder business,” he whispered.

Sirius unfolded it and snorted. “You want to charm the staircases to send Snivellus into the third-floor armor trapdoor?”

James grinned. 

Across the room, Snape sat at the Slytherin table, big nose in a thick book. He looked up once, directly at Remus, but immediately looked away. Remus’s skin prickled.

“I’m meeting Marlene and Mary later,” Lily said. “OWLs planning. You lot are welcome to join, if you want a head start on failing.”

James groaned. “Ugh, don’t say OWLs before I’ve finished my tea.”

Sirius leaned back in his chair and tossed a grape in the air, catching it in his mouth. “Don’t listen to her. No one is failing. Well, maybe Pete, but…”

“You don’t even take notes,” Lily said dryly.

“I don’t need notes. I’ve got Remus.” Sirius bumped their shoulders together, and something electric pulled at Remus’s core. He glanced at Remus like he wanted to say more, but didn’t.

Remus swallowed hard. “We should all revise,” he said tightly. “We’re not that far off from practical exams.”

James groaned louder. “Moony. Don’t ruin breakfast.”

But Remus barely heard him. His eyes had drifted down the table to where Peter had reappeared, sitting beside a group of fourth-years. He wasn’t eating, he was just watching. And when he noticed Remus looking, he flinched and looked away.

“Excuse me,” Remus said, getting up and leaving his breakfast untouched. 

The frost still clung to the shaded grass as Remus made his way toward the shore of the lake outside of the castle. Though the sun was still rising behind him, the air was sharp, and the earth crunched faintly underfoot. The Black Lake stretched ahead of him, still and heavy, the surface dark and undisturbed aside from the occasional ripple that rolled outward from movement beneath.

Remus kept walking along the shore, shoulders hunched, hands buried deep in his pockets, his gaze flicking restlessly across the water.

He didn’t want to be thinking about Peter or the sick look of fear that occasionally crossed his face just for a second when Remus walked into the room.

Mostly, he didn’t want to feel like this. 

He eventually heard the footsteps crunching after him, but he didn’t want to turn around and face whoever followed him.

“Going for a swim, are we?” Sirius called casually. But his voice wasn’t teasing, not really.

Remus stopped, staring out at the water. “Thought I’d give Peter one less reason to look at me like I’m cursed.”

Sirius caught up to him, falling into step beside him. “I mean… you are kind of cursed with this, aren’t you?” Remus gave him a deadpan glare. “Kidding, kidding. Still…doesn’t mean he gets to act like a twat about it.”

Remus huffed a quiet laugh, humorless. “You ever think maybe he’s right to be scared?”

Sirius didn’t answer right away. The silence between them stretched, filled with nothing but the shifting lap of water against the lakeshore.

“You’re not scary, Remus,” Sirius finally said. “You’re brilliant. James even said so himself. You’ve gone through more than any of us even know how to imagine, and you’re still…. you .”

Remus flinched. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Say things like that. Like it’s noble. Like it’s some kind of gift.”

“I didn’t say it was a gift,” Sirius replied firmly. “I said you are.”

Remus turned to him sharply. “You think I want this? The transformations, the lake, the magic I don’t understand. You think I asked for any of it?”

“Of course not.”

“It’s not something to admire. It’s something I have to endure . And I’m tired, Sirius. I’m so bloody tired.”

He hadn’t meant to say that part. It just slipped out of him.

Sirius was staring at him, lips parted, like he wanted to reach for him but didn’t quite dare. His voice dropped, lower and softer. “Then let me help you endure it.”

Remus closed his eyes. It made his chest ache, the way Sirius said things like that, like it was just that simple. 

“You’re not supposed to say things like that,” Remus murmured, his voice thinner now.

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll start to believe you.”

Sirius blinked. For once, it seemed like he didn’t have an answer. Just stood there, mouth slightly open, eyes full of something Remus didn't know how to look at directly.

“Do you?” Sirius asked.

“Do I what?” 

“Believe me.”

Remus looked back at the lake, because it was easier than looking at Sirius.

“...Yeah,” he admitted. “That’s the problem.”

The words hung between them.

A breeze stirred the edge of the lake, lifting Sirius’s hair from his face. When Remus finally glanced back, Sirius was still watching him…not cautiously, not pitying, but like he was memorizing him. Like something had shifted and he didn’t want to let it go.

“If it makes a difference,” Sirius said. “I don’t think Peter’s afraid of you because of what you are. I think he’s afraid of you because he knows you‘re much more interesting than he’ll ever be.”

Remus couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of him. “You’re a git.” 

Sirius grinned, relief easing into the corners of his face. “You wound me, Moony.”

Remus just rolled his eyes and bumped his shoulder against Sirius’s. “Shut up.”

“C’mon,” Sirius said eventually, nudging him back. “Let's pretend to revise with Lily and fail spectacularly.”

“I suppose at least one of us needs to be prepared for exams,” Remus muttered, but he let Sirius steer him away from the lake.

They met up with the rest of the gang, sans Peter, in the library. Mary and Marlene were locked in a spirited debate over which professor had probably once worked as an Unspeakable. 

“I”m telling you, McGonagall knows too much about time travel,” Marlene said, flipping a quill between her fingers. “You don’t just happen to understand temporal theory that well.”

“Oh please,” Mary said. “If anyone is an Unspeakable, it’s Rivera. She disappears for whole weekends and always looks like she’s read the end of days in the stars.”

Lily, unsurprisingly, had her nose buried in a Charms textbook, her notes lined up in perfect columns, color-coded and crisp. James sat on her right, leaning far too close under the pretense of peeking at her notes. He was asking questions that were almost intelligent, when he wasn’t making a half-muttered joke under his breath. Lily didn’t entertain his flirting, exactly, but she didn’t push him away this time.

“You’re late,” Lily said flatly, without looking up.

“We brought morale,” Sirius declared, sweeping into the chair on the other side of James with theatrical flair and dropping his bag like it was an offering to the table.

“Speak for yourself,” Remus muttered, slipping into the seat across from Sirius and tugging out a stack of worn parchment and cracked-spined books. He spread them out with quiet precision like he needed the order to keep his mind still.

Sirius leaned back and extended his legs under the table, lightly kicking Remus’s ankle. “You brought the brains, Moony. I brought the charm.”

“Debatable,” Marlene said without looking from her issue of Witch Weekly .

“Oh, I don’t know,” Mary chimed in, squinting playfully. “His hairs got at least a sixth-year level shine charm on it today.”

Sirius smirked and flipped it dramatically over one shoulder. “Beauty is pain.”

“You’re a pain,” Remus murmured without glancing up from his books, but the corner of his mouth twitched up.

Their feet brushed again unintentionally. Or maybe not. Neither of them moved.

Remus settled in, letting the hum of the library and the group's chatter wash over him. 

“ Oi ,” Marlene said suddenly. “Did you hear Flitwick is finally teaching us the Bubble-Head Charm next week?”

Mary groaned. “About time. Bit close to OWLs, though.”

“I don’t care,” Marlene said. “I’m going to use it in the dorm. Arabella still farts in her sleep, and it’s always when I’ve just dozed off. I’m traumatized.”

Sirius barked out a laugh and James nearly spat out his drink..

Lily, however, had gone perfectly still. Her eyes were no longer reading the page in front of her.

“What’s the Bubble-Head Charm?” James asked.

“It’s to help you breathe when the air’s unfit,” Marlene explained. “Like around smoke, underwater, noxious gas. That kind of thing.”

James perked up, shooting a grin at Sirius. “Underwater?”

Sirius didn’t say anything, but Remus felt the ripple shift of the table, like a new current buzzed around them. 

“Sure,” Marlene said. “You’ve got to cast it right, though. Wonky spellwork and you’ll suffocate before you even realize the air is gone.”

Remus’s hand tightened around his quill.

He stared at his notes but he wasn’t seeing them anymore.

He could sense the shift in James’s tone, the spark of interest in Sirius’s eyes. A charm that could let them swim with him, maybe, if they put the pieces together. It wasn’t like the two boys hadn’t already expressed interest. Remus had seen the way James lit up when new magic meant new possibilities. They were curious, and kind, and brave. And now it was real. A charm that could let them follow him into the lake.

And that terrified him.

Not because he didn’t want to share the lake. In fact, he’d love to feel less alone. But because they didn’t know what it meant to swim beneath the surface, to let the chill seep into your skin and breathe through magic alone. Because the lake was ancient, and full of creatures and magic he didn’t understand. It wasn’t just a body of water, it was a whole different world. 

What if something went wrong with the charm? What if it failed halfway down and they couldn’t breathe? What if the grindylows didn’t take kindly to visitors, or if the giant squid wasn’t in the mood to play nice? What if they panicked, or froze?

And also, what if they saw him?

Not just a boy who has a tail, not just Moony with his quiet jokes and buried smiles.

What if they saw what he truly was like completely submerged, when his limbs moved wrong and his eyes shifted and his voice didn’t carry the same way?

What if they looked at him and saw something different? A creature of the Black Lake?

What if they finally saw what Peter saw?

He didn’t want to lose the way Sirius looked at him now. Or the way James trusted him, implicitly, without thinking twice. He didn’t want pity. Or fear. He just wanted–

A foot bumped against him again under the table.

Remus startled, blinking hard, broken from his spiraling thoughts. He looked up, and Sirius didn’t say anything. Just arched an eyebrow, gave him a quick, knowing grin before turning back to James, who was going on about all the different ways the charm could be useful.

Remus exhaled, and nudged Sirius back. 

Their legs pressed together, lightly at first, then again with purpose. A quiet rhythm bloomed under the table. Shin to shin. Ankle to ankle. Silent. Private.

“Still think it’s reckless,” Lily muttered, scribbling something sharp in the margins of her notes.

“Reckless is half the point,” Sirius replied, mouth twitching into a smirk. “But I’m sure Remus will rescue us when we cock it up.”

Remus’s head snapped up. Lily also froze.

Sirius caught it. Quickly, he added, “Because he’s the best of us at Charms, obviously.”

James nodded too enthusiastically. “Right, yeah. Moony’s practically Flitwick’s favorite.”

There were so many things he wanted to say. Don’t follow me. Don’t risk it. Don’t risk drowning to be close to me . 

He said none of them.

Instead, he let his foot stay pressed against Sirius’s. Let it say what his voice couldn’t.

Sirius’s fingers drummed idly on the table, but under it, his foot shifted even closer, holding him there like an anchor.

And Remus let himself lean into that quiet contact just a little bit longer.

Chapter Text

Charms class on Monday morning began with an excited energy through the classroom of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws.

Professor Flitwick stood at the front of the classroom on top of his pile of books, his wand already in hand. “As some of you have heard,” he began, voice high and bright, “we will begin learning the Bubble-Head Charm today. A highly useful piece of magic. Very practical, protective, and somewhat more complex than it appears.”

James elbowed Sirius in the ribs, grinning.

Sirius smirked and flexed his fingers. “Easy.”

Professor Flitwick had enchanted a diagram on the blackboard, displaying a glowing bubble encasing a wizard’s head, annotated with floating footnotes about sealing techniques and air circulation.

Flitwick waved his wand and a translucent dome appeared above his own head. “Now, listen carefully. The difficulty with this charm lies not in conjuring the bubble, but in sealing it properly. If the seal is not done correctly, air can escape, unwanted elements get in, or, the seal may be too strong that you won’t be able to breathe at all.” He flicked his wand and the charm collapsed with a pop. “This charm will take time to master, which is precisely why we begin it in fifth year.

“The incantation is Bulla Capitis . Say it clearly, with a slow flick upward at the end. Like so.” He demonstrated again, and the bubble shimmered to life. “Now, pair off and begin practicing just as I showed you.”

Naturally, Sirius paired with James, and Remus paired with Lily.

“Bet I’ll get it first,” Sirius said confidently to James.

James rolled his shoulders like an athlete before a match. “Alright, show us how it’s done then.”

Sirius raised his wand, recited the incantation. A bubble appeared, but quickly burst with a wet splash, soaking the collar of his robes.

“Charming,” Remus said.

Sirius muttered something obscene and shook out his sleeve.

On his first attempt, James ended up with a misshapen half-bubble that hovered lamely over his ear like a jellyfish. 

Peter was notably absent from their group of four. He had arrived to class on time, but had quietly differed toward a different table on the Ravenclaw side, settling beside a girl from their Herbology elective. He didn’t look their way once.

Remus pretended not to notice.

At the next table, Mary and Marlene had both produced bubbles, thin, shimmering ones that warped with every movement. They were using the bubbles to blow kisses to each other.

“Ladies,” Flitwick said with mild amusement, “please remember that the Bubble-Head Charm is a breathing aid, not a party trick. But good work, now work on properly sealing the bubbles.”

Lily, lips pressed tight, was the first in their group to produce a correctly sealed bubble. It clung snugly to her face, slightly refracting the light.

“Excellent work, Miss Evans,” Flitwick said, beaming.

Sirius and James were still struggling. 

“You need to concentrate,” Lily said sharply under her breath, once she’d dispelled the charm. “Especially,” she said, lowering her voice, “if you’re planning to try it in the lake.”

Sirius turned toward her, a picture of perfect innocence. “Who said anything about the lake.”

“Just…be careful,” she continued. “One mistake and you’ll drown.”

Remus hadn’t spoken yet. He was watching the way James’s fingers flexed impatiently on his wand. The set of Sirius’s jaw. He could already tell that nothing Lily said would slow them down.

Still, he cleared his throat. “She’s right.”

Both boys turned to him.

“The charm might help with breathing, but it won’t do anything against the cold. Or…anything else that’s down there.”

“Like the squid?” James asked brightly.

“Or the kelpies?” Sirius added.

Remus frowned. “It’s not a joke.”

Sirius’s smile dimmed slightly. “We know.”

Then, after a beat, Sirius gave a crooked grin. “Besides, we’ve got our own personal merman lifeguard, don’t we?”

Remus groaned.

James perked up. “Right! If we start drowning, you’ll just swoop in and carry us to shore. Our prince.”

“Romantic,” Lily murmured.

Remus rolled his eyes. “I’m not dragging either of you out of the lake if you’re dumb enough to go in unprepared.”

Sirius smirked. “You’d save me. Admit it.”

Flitwick was making his rounds around the classroom, checking on individual progress. 

Remus sighed and raised his wand.

“ Bulla Capitis ,” he said quietly, and with a precise upward flick of his wand, a perfect, clear bubble sealed around his face.

It shimmered faintly in the overhead light, like glass, but weightless and complete.

“Oh, brilliant!” Lily grinned at him. “That’s textbook perfect.”

Even Flitwick clapped his tiny hands when he passed. “Excellent execution, Mr. Lupin.”

Sirius stared, slack-jawed, his wand drooping in his hand. James let out an exaggerated groan.

“ Of course he gets it on the first bloody try,” James muttered. “Not even fair.”

Sirius crossed his arms, mock-inspecting the bubble. “You don’t even need the charm, Moony. You’ve got literal gills.”

Remus dispelled the bubble with a flick of his wand, a faint blush rising on his cheeks. “It might have to do with….water magic. Elemental stuff. Makes some things a little easier.”

“So unfair,” James said under his breath, trying and failing to produce his own bubble.

The boys’ dormitory on Thursday night was filled with the faint sound of pop! pop! pop! as another bubble collapsed in on itself.

“Damn it,” James muttered, shaking out his wand. “That one was so close.”

“You almost had the seal,” Sirius said, squinting at the spot where the shimmer of James’s failed charm had flickered and vanished. “But I’m still ahead.”

“In your dreams,” James shot back, already lifting his wand again. “ Bulla Capitis! ’

A weak globe of magic shimmered briefly around his head before giving an almost apologetic pop and vanishing again. He groaned.

“Still ahead,” Sirius said smugly, flopping back on his bed with his wand twirling between his long fingers. “Even if yours is a bit more spherical.”

“Yeah, well, yours had a weird flat bit in the back. Like a deflating pumpkin!” James joked.

Remus sat cross-legged on his bed, textbook open on his lap, pretending to revise. He’d given up trying to concentrate ten minutes ago. 

They’d been at it all week, ever since Flitwick introduced the charm on Monday. Sirius and James had taken to it with typical Marauder enthusiasm. They were wildly confident, entirely reckless, and now obsessively competitive. 

Peter sat in the corner by the window, polishing his wand with exaggerated focus. He hadn’t tried the charm once since class. Hadn’t really said anything at all.

Remus caught the flicker of his eyes as he watched Sirius and James go back and forth, but when Remus caught his gaze, Peter quickly looked away.

Sirius sat up. “Oi, Moony. Want to give it a go? Show us up again?”

“No need. I already did it.”

Sirius smirked. “Exactly, we need something to aim for. Some inspiration.”

Remus sighed, lifted his wand, and spoke quietly. “ Bulla Capitis. ”

The shimmering sphere sprang to life, perfectly shaped, its edge flush against his skin. Stable, silent, smooth as glass.

It was effortless. 

“Show off,” Sirius muttered now, grinning even as he fell back onto his bed dramatically. Remus let the bubble dissolve and smirked at the frustrated boys.

“You asked!” 

“He doesn’t even need it,” James groaned.

“I told you, probably the connection to water," Remus explained.

“Of course it is,” Sirius said. “Remus Lupin: merman, resident magical prodigy, and bubble-head champion. It’s disgusting.”

“You lot are going to make me regret ever telling you.”

James sat upright, wand poised again. “Nah. We just want you to rescue us when we drown.”

“Yeah,” Sirius added, winking. “You’ll swoop in with your sparkly fins and carry us heroically to shore.”

“Do I look like a lifeguard?” Remus asked dryly.

Sirius opened his mouth, smirk ready. But then his eyes flicked briefly to Peter, who was watching again. Silent. Expression unreadable.

The air shifted.

James didn’t seem to notice. “Honestly, though. Think of all the stuff we could do in the lake once we master this charm. There’s gotta be shipwrecks. Squid dens. Sunken treasure.”

Remus’s chest tightened.

Sirius leaned forward, excitement lighting his eyes. “Or maybe there’s like…more underground caves somewhere.”

Remus wanted to say that it was dangerous. That if they got the charm wrong underwater, if the temperature shocked their systems, if a creature of the lake attacked, he couldn’t always protect them. That he couldn’t promise they’d be safe.

But he didn’t say anything, not with Peter in the room. Not with so much already fraying between them.

Peter stood up suddenly, muttering something about heading down to the common room. He didn’t look at any of them before leaving the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

The silence that followed was loud.

James finally cleared his throat. “He just needs more time.”

“Yeah,” Sirius said. “Or maybe he just is tired or something.”

But Remus knew that wasn’t it. They all did. 

Chapter Text

The castle was beginning to thaw in late-April. Sunlight filtered through the high windows of the library, dust motes drifting lazily in the golden beams. The sounds of rustling parchment and ink scratches carried throughout the library as students revised term papers and practiced incantations. It was the season of OWL preparation. The air was thick with tension and test anxiety. But for James, Sirius, and Remus, things were feeling optimistic.

The April full moon had come and gone without incident.

It had been the first time James joined him and Sirius at the cave beneath the castle. Remus had been nervous, of course. James was excitable, prone to laughing too loudly or charging into things with reckless joy. But the night had gone shockingly well.

They’d spent the evening in the cave, casting soft Lumos charms and taking turns creating games with rocks and levitation spells. James had brought a deck of Exploding Snap cards, which Sirius modified with a charm so that Remus could join from the water without ruining them. He’d floated lazily in the shallows, tail flicking softly behind him, letting the others talk around him.

James had gushed endlessly about Lily, about how she’d helped him with his Arithmancy notes, about how she had finally laughed at his jokes and how it caused his stomach to get butterflies. About how he wanted to ask her to go on a date with him to the very last Hogsmeade weekend before summer break.

Sirius had rolled his eyes and teased, but smiled the entire time.

Remus had watched Sirius more than he meant to. Watched the way the cave lights caught in his light gray eyes and reflected in his long hair. He watched how gentle he was with him when he surfaced, shaking the water from his own hair. He watched how he never flinched, not even once, at the sight of his scales, his gills. Just simple acceptance.

The night was peaceful. Hopeful. Remus felt like himself.

Even two weeks later, he found himself replaying it. 

He sat in the library with a Herbology textbook open in front of him, though he hadn’t turned a page in ten minutes. His quill sat idle. Across the table, Lily was scratching furiously on a set of revision cards, tongue poking out in concentration.

“You’ve stopped reading,” she said, without looking up.

“I’m reading internally,” Remus said dryly.

“Smiling internally too, then?” Lily finally glanced at him, brow raised.

Remus blinked. He hadn’t realized he’d been smiling.

“Just thinking,” he said. Lily’s gaze was knowing and kind. “The last moon. It was good.”

She smiled at him gently. “You’re allowed to enjoy it.”

In the weeks that followed, OWL pressure amped up. Flitwick gave them increasingly difficult charm theories to study. McGonagall held after-hours sessions in Transfiguration. The fifth-year students practically lived in the library. Even Sirius started voluntarily writing his own essays.

Peter had continued to keep his distance.

He’d started lingering near the Hufflepuff table during meals, often chatting quietly with a girl named Ivy Mallory. She seemed harmless enough, but Peter’s newfound interest in her was strange. He’d been skipping study sessions and nights in the common room, offering half-hearted excuses and shrugging off James’s teasing questions with a distracted grin.

Remus noticed it more than the others. The way Peter hesitated before joining them. The way he looked torn sometimes. Like he was watching something fall apart. James grumbled about it now and then, but he was too wrapped up in Lily, OWL preparations, and Quidditch to push. Sirius barely seemed to notice, or maybe he just didn’t care.

But Remus cared. He just didn’t know how to fix it.

On a particularly warm Sunday afternoon, Remus and Sirius sat on the sloped lawn behind the castle, a rare quiet afternoon, a reprieve from the intense studying they’d all been doing lately. The Black Lake shimmered in the distance, its waters calm for once. Remus didn’t feel the anxiety he sometimes felt when he looked at it. Today, he felt…content. Sirius sat beside him tossing small stones into the grass and looking unusually pensive.

Remus watched him carefully. He’d learned by now how to read Sirius’s silences, how to tell the difference between the ones full of mischief and the ones full of things Sirius didn’t want to say.

“You’ve been weird today,” Remus said finally, gently.

Sirius gave a half-hearted snort. “Just today?”

Remus nudged his knee. “You know what I mean.”

There was a long pause. Sirius didn’t look at him. Instead, he threw another stone and muttered, “Ran into Regulus this morning.”

Remus’s stomach clenched. “And?”

“And,” Sirius continued, taking a deep breath, “he wanted to remind me that if I don’t come home for the summer, Mother’s threatening to send Aurors after me for kidnapping myself.” His tone was dry, but something trembled beneath it. “Says she’s already set aside a room for me to be…’reformed’ in. Like I’m a blasted curse she can exorcise.”

Remus turned toward him more fully, heart thudding. “Sirius…”

“He said I’ve embarrassed the family long enough.” Sirius let out a bitter laugh. “Which, coming from Regulus, is rich. Acting like he’s the perfect little heir, now. Practically shining with purity.”

Remus didn’t know what to say at first. His chest ached just looking at him. Sirius’s collar was open, his hair windswept, but his eyes…they were tired, like he hadn’t truly slept in weeks.

“You’re not going back,” Remus said firmly.

Sirius shook his head. “No. James’s parents said I can stay again. But it doesn’t stop her sending howlers. Or threatening to write to the Ministry. Or saying I’ve been ‘compromised’ by blood traitors or half-bloods or Merlin-knows what else.” His voice cracked on the last word, but Remus pretended not to notice.

For a moment, the tension between them held, thick and charged. Sirius dropped his head to his knees, hiding his face. 

“Think I could just dive into the lake and disappear with you all summer?” he finally asked, one eye peeking over at Remus.

He chuckled, returning his gaze to the dark sparkling water. “You need to work on that Bubble-Head charm first.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Sirius groaned. 

Sirius and James had continued to practice their charms, but they both still struggled. Sirius, who admittedly seemed a bit more driven than James, had made a bit more progress, but it still wasn’t perfect. His bubble would always end up popping after a few minutes, or he wasn’t able to properly seal it. The one time he did seal the bubble, he accidentally cut off all air supply, and James had to pop it for him. They both ended up rolling in a fit of laughter on the floor. 

“What about you, Moony?” Sirius asked. “What will you do this summer?”

“Probably spend it on the coast with my mum,” he replied. Hope Lupin owned a cottage in St. Ives. It was close enough to a beach that Remus always had access when he needed it, full moon or not. 

“What’s the ocean like?” Sirius asked quietly.

Remus closed his eyes, imagining the icy waters of the Celtic. “Beautiful. Less magical than the lake, but…less intense. It feels more natural.”

Sirius was quiet for a moment, watching Remus as he spoke. “I’ve never seen the ocean,” Sirius admitted.

Remus blinked at him. “Really?”

Sirius shook his head, looking vaguely embarrassed. “Wasn’t allowed. Father said it was ‘vulgar to holiday with commoners.’ We had a family estate in France, but it was all vineyards and marble. Never swam a day in my life until I came to Hogwarts.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope. I only learned how in third year. James taught me in the Black Lake.” He smirked. “Got dragged under by the squid once. Thought I was going to die.”

“You probably deserved it. The squid’s a nice guy.”

Sirius chuckled, but then went quiet again, gaze drifting back to the lake. “I used to imagine it, though. The ocean. Being able to just go and not come back. Not run, exactly. Just…vanish. No one to tell me how wrong I am.”

Remus’s heart twisted. “You’re not wrong, Sirius.”

Sirius glanced at him. “According to my parents, I am. Even Regulus, my own brother, thinks I am.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re not broken.”

Sirius stared at him like he was trying to find a lie, but couldn’t. He swallowed hard then, looking down at his hands, picking at the fraying threads on the hem of his sleeve.

“Sometimes I think the only reason I’ve made it this far is because of you,” he said. “And James. I don’t really…express that. How grateful I am. To you. I’m clearly shit at it. And if you ever make fun of me for it, I’ll hex you-”

“I’m not going to make fun of you,” Remus said. 

Sirius nodded, like that was all he needed. He was quiet for another moment. Then: “If I ever get the chance to see the ocean, I’d like it to be with you.”

“That would be nice,” Remus said, not revealing just how much he’d like that, too. 

“You know,” Sirius continued, more lightly now, “if we get through exams without failing, I vote we take a celebratory trip to the coast. Just you, me, and the other miserable gits.”

“You want to take James and Peter?”

“No, I meant Snivellus and Regulus,” Sirius said with a grin. “Of course, James and Peter.”

“Not sure Pete would come,” Remus said quietly.

“He’s just being a prick,” Sirius said with a wave of his hand. “Give it a bit more time. Besides, he’s probably too busy with Ivy .” 

Remus chuckled, despite the tightness in his chest. 

“Oi! Lupin!” a voice called from behind them. Both boys looked over their shoulders to see a figure approaching.

A sixth-year Gryffindor, tall and gangly with sandy hair and sharp cheekbones named Callum Fletcher was walking towards them with his sleeves rolled to the elbow. Remus knew who he was since he was a prefect, but they’d never spoken more than a few words while passing by in the common room. He was usually hanging out near the fireplace, sketching creatures in a work leather notebook. He was particularly gifted in Care of Magical Creatures. 

He was tall, almost as tall as Remus, with angular features and a lazy kind of confidence that suggested he didn’t worry too much about what others thought of him. 

“Callum” Remus greeted. 

“Lupin, hi,” he said, breathless. Remus stood up and greeted the boy. “Sorry to interrupt. Kettleburn wanted me to find you. He was raving about the Hippogriff case study he said you handed in last week. He thinks you’re the most gifted fifth-year he’s ever taught.”

Remus blinked. “Oh. That’s…flattering.”

“More than flattering,” Callum said, smiling. “Wanted me to see if you’ve thought about NEWTs for Care of Magical Creatures. He thinks you’d crush it.”

“I’m…not sure yet,” Remus said cautiously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Still trying to survive OWLs.”

That made Callum laugh, warm and low. He had an inviting smile. “Fair enough. I don’t miss that. But if you ever want help prepping or talking through magical creature stuff, let me know. I tutor a couple of sixth-years, actually. Not that you seem like you need the help.”

Remus’s ears flushed pink. “That’s…kind of you. Thanks.”

Callum glanced down at the sketchbook tucked under his arm and then back at Remus. “Actually, um…this might sound odd, but I’ve been working on some observational drawings of magical hybrids, and I’ve been trying to track patterns in movement and spell reactions. Kettleburn says you’re really insightful with that sort of thing. If you ever want to take a look, or just talk magical theory, I’d love to hear your thoughts.”

“Oh,” Remus said again, blinking. “Sure. Yeah. I’d like that.”

Callum’s grin widened, bright and genuine. “Brilliant. I’ll catch you in the library sometime, then. Or after class.”

Then, almost as an afterthought, he turned to Sirius and gave him a curt nod. “Black.”

Sirius nodded back, unsmiling. “Fletcher.”

Callum gave Remus one last quick look, but then turned and jogged back up toward the castle.

Remus sat back down slowly. His ears still burned.

Sirius watched Callum’s retreating figure with a frown, then turned to Remus. “The fuck was that?”

Chapter Text

The moon was full, casting silver beams that filtered down through the water in pale, dappled streaks. Above, the Black Lake rippled in gentle circles. Below, all was still.

It had been a quiet evening, calm, in a way that Remus cherished. The currents moved lazily, brushing against Remus’s skin. The chill was less brutal than usual, softened by the gradual crawl of spring. The creatures of the lake, normally elusive or watchful during the full moons, seemed unbothered tonight. Even the grindylows had kept their distance, drifting in slow, hypnotic spirals among the reeds. 

Remus’s body acclimated faster now with the warming of the season. He knew the rhythm of the cold, the quiet, the weightless glide. He felt like a part of it. Not a guest, but just existing with the rest of the lake.

The enchanted warming cloak Sirius had given him trailed behind, the dark navy fabric pulsing gently with the magic woven into its threads. Remus didn’t need it quite as badly as he had during the winter, but he wore it anyway. Not just for the warmth.

They had insisted he go. James had been the first to yawn and collapse onto his back, muttering nonsense about starlight and hexed chocolate frogs. Sirius had lasted a little longer, but eventually turned to Remus, murmuring, “Go swim, Moony. We’ll be right here.”

Remus had smiled and slipped away without a sound. 

He curled up to sleep within a little hollow nestled in silt and moss, sheltered from the push of the water. He curled there like a child, the water lapping gently through his curls, and fell into a peaceful sleep. No nightmares, no twisting panic, no biting chill clawing through his bones.

When the first light of dawn filtered down through the water, Remus stretched and blinked into the haze of the morning. His neck ached slightly from the awkward angle, but he was smiling.

He felt…good. Light. 

He pushed off gently from the hollow, cloak drifting around him, letting the current of the lake pull him back toward the cave. The soft tug of the water in his hair, the flick of his tail. The lake felt peaceful and familiar. 

Remus didn’t notice the shift in the current at first. It was subtle, rarely something to worry about with all of the magic that lived in the lake. But the water grew still, and he slowed instinctively, the smile fading from his lips.

He turned, glancing behind him. Nothing but the murky floor of the lake. A low bed of lakeweed, brushing against the silt. 

Then something brushed the end of his tail. A whisper. A flick. 

Remus startled, twisting sharply. “Hello?” he called, knowing that nothing in the lake would understand him.

But there was nothing. Just a faint bed of lakeweed swaying below him. He turned again, angling back toward the cave.

Another brush.

Then a tug . 

This time he jerked. He pushed forward, but something pulled him back. Hard.

Remus heard the clasp of the cloak click open, and felt as it drifted up and away from him like smoke. He tried to reach out to grab it, but he was pulled down.

He glanced down.

A vine had wrapped around the fluke of his tail. The bed of weed had shifted. No longer drifting gently, they had begun to twist upward, thick green stalks stretching through the water like fingers. 

His stomach dropped. 

He dove downward, trying to shake it loose, but the vine clung tighter. 

Remus gasped, lungs flaring as cold panic surged through him, and reached for the nearest stalk, digging his fingers into it in a desperate attempt to peel it away from his tail. But the vine only responded with vicious instinct, coiling tighter, winding its way up his bronze scales like a constricting snake. It wasn’t just wrapped – it gripped, shifting with a kind of sentience.

“No–” he kicked hard. His tail struck the water with force, but more vines responded, reaching up to him.

Another strand slithered through the water and lashed around his wrist. Then another. And another.

Remus thrashed, heart hammering in his throat as he twisted, reaching out on reflex for a wand that wasn’t there, that was never there when he was like this. His fingers flailed through empty water, and then his arm was wrenched back, pinned hard against his ribs by a thick ropelike vine. The movement seemed to awaken something dormant in the lakebed.

The entire bed of kelp began to writhe, shimmering with a sickly toxic green, ancient magic pulsing through each tendril. Dozens of enchanted stalks rose like serpents, weaving together, slithering over his body, reacting to every struggle, every panicked breath. They looped around his torso, compressing his ribs until he could feel them strain. They slithered up his neck, curling beneath his chin. 

A final vine surged up with terrifying speed and worked its way across his face, over his mouth, and fully wrapping around his head.

Remus’s eyes flew wide in alarm. He shook his head violently, but the slimy, fibrous strand held fast across his mouth, sealing in a muffled groan. Bubbles of sound burst from his throat, swallowed instantly by the water around him. He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t shout. Couldn’t call for help. 

His gills fluttered in a stuttering rhythm, his lungs tightening as fear gripped him.

He kicked, tail whipping through the water, but it only agitated the vine creature around him. The kelp responded with hunger, curling tighter, pulling him downward, inch by inch. Wrapping, winding. 

He could feel the magic of the vines now, not just wild but intentional, like a curse left to rot beneath the surface. The vines didn’t just want to trap him. It wanted to keep him.

Bound and shivering. 

His chest seized. His eyes stung. He let out another muffled cry, barely a vibration in the water. He tried to call to the other merfolk, though he knew they wouldn’t come. They never had. And now he couldn’t even open his mouth. Couldn’t lift his arms. He was utterly, terrifyingly still.

And Remus realized, in a sickening, sinking moment of clarity, that there was no way he could get out of this on his own.

Sirius’  POV

Sirius blinked awake to near silence. Only the occasional drip of water echoed through the cave, falling from the damp walls into the pool. James was still snoring, sprawled on his side under a mess of conjured blankets, his foot twitching as if chasing something in a dream. 

Sirius shifted slightly, feeling the cool ache in his spine from the uneven cave floor. He was wrapped in the thickest cloak he’d managed to snag from his trunk, but it still wasn’t quite enough. The chill of early spring crept through the layers.

He sat up with a groan, rubbing at the soreness in his jaw and blinking the sleep from his eyes. A watery glow filtered in from the lake entrance. Mist curled faintly across the cave’s edge, where the still-dark surface of the lake rippled with lazy movement.

Remus still wasn’t back.

Sirius’ eyes drifted toward the water, scanning for the telltale glint of bronze or the shimmer of movement beneath the surface. Nothing. 

This wasn’t strange. Not really. Remus always lingered in the mornings after a full moon, gliding through the lake, letting the water soothe whatever pain lingered from the night before. Sirius had come to expect it. Had even grown fond of that little quiet spell, knowing Remus was out there, letting the lake hold him. 

Still. A flicker of unease settled in his chest. He shifted closer to the cave mouth, peering out. 

The lake shimmered quietly, but he spotted something moving just beneath the surface.

Sirius leaned forward, eyes narrowing.

A shape rose slowly, weightless. The fabric swayed in the water, like a flag caught in the wind. Dark, navy blue, stitched with faint golden threads that shimmered with magic.

The cloak.

His cloak. The enchanted cloak he’d given Remus for his birthday.

The one that Remus never went into the lake without.

Sirius’s heart stuttered. He lunged to his feet so quickly he slammed his head dully against the low cave ceiling.

“Shit–” he ducked, blinking stars from his vision as he stumbled forward toward the pool. The cloak floated closer, no one attached to it. Just fabric. Alone.

“Remus?” His voice cracked, raw with sudden fear.

No answer.

His throat tightened.

“Sirius?” James stirred behind him, voice still thick with sleep.

“He’s not back,” Sirius said, almost breathless. 

James sat up, rubbing his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Sirius pointed. “His cloak, James. It’s just floating out there.” His voice dropped. “He’s not wearing it.”

James pushed to his feet quickly, the fog of sleep now gone. His expression shifted instantly from confusion to alarm. “Bloody hell,” he muttered. “That’s not– I thought he never takes it off."

“He doesn’t,” Sirius said. His mind was already made up. “I’m going in.”

“Wait ,” James scrambled across the cave. “Padfoot, wait. You haven’t nailed down the charm yet. We agreed to master it over the summer–”

“I don’t care,” Sirius's voice cracked across the cave. His hands were already working on the fastenings of his cloak, fingers shaking. “If something’s happened to him…”

“Then let me come.”

“Your charm’s worse than mine,” Sirius snapped. He tossed his cloak aside, standing in just his shirt and trousers. “I’m not letting us both drown.”

“Sirius–”

“James ,” He turned, wild-eyed, and that stopped him. James clamped his mouth shut. “If I’m not back in an hour, go straight to Dumbledore. Don’t argue, just…just go.”

James froze, jaw clenched. He looked like he wanted to argue. Fight him. But he didn’t. He nodded once, sharply. “Be careful.”

Sirius didn’t answer. He dropped to his knees by the pool, drew his wand with shaking hands, and took a breath. Then another. He aimed the wand at his own throat and murmured the incantation with as much confidence as he could muster. 

The Bubble-Head Charm formed with a soft pop, a shimmering sphere of air encasing his head. It wobbled slightly, uneven around the edges, and Sirius could already see the instability in the charm.

But it didn’t matter.

He dove headfirst into the water.

Chapter Text

Sirius’ POV

The lake swallowed him whole.

The shock of the cold gripped him, even with the enchanted cloak that Sirius threw around his shoulders as he swam toward the lake. The cold still hit like a curse, piercing through his bones, stealing the heat from his fingertips. Sirius clenched his jaw and pushed downward, kicking hard, the pressure in his ears building with every stroke. 

His heart thundered. He didn’t know how deep the lake went. The surface light dimmed far too quickly, leaving him suspended in greenish-black gloom, the daylight above reduced to a wavering smear of silver far behind him.

Still, he didn’t stop. Not with Remus missing.

The Bubble-Head Charm around him shimmered faintly, wobbling at the edges. Not perfect. Not stable. But it was all he had. He reached up, instinctively pressing a hand against the barrier to reassure himself it was still there.

He pushed on.

Sirius was not a graceful swimmer. He wasn’t bad, exactly. But he wasn’t built for this. Not the way Remus was. Remus moved through the water like he belonged to it, like he was carved from it. Sirius was all sharp edges and flailing legs.

His limbs ached already. His muscles pulled tight with the cold, but he didn’t stop.

He swam deeper, eyes flicking in every direction, the water blurring around him. Shapes moved in his periphery, long strands of weeds, rocks, and shadows. Every time he turned, hope shot through his chest, only to twist into something colder when it turned out to be nothing.

“Come on, come on…” 

He swept his wand out, casting faint blue light in front of him as he spun in a loose, wide spiral. Silt kicked up from the lakebed below, clouding the water in hazy clouds. He turned again. 

Nothing.

“Where are you, Remus?” he said, voice hollow and useless in the bubble.

The stillness pressed in. The silence was unnatural, like the lake itself was holding its breath. His pulse began to climb.

Was he too late ?

A cold spike of fear pierced his ribs.

No. He shook the thought from his head, biting down on panic. Not too late. Just keep going .

He kicked downward again, teeth chattering, light from his wand barely piercing the gloom. Lakeweed brushed his arm. Slithered across his feet. A dark shape loomed to his left, but it was just a rock. Another flicker to his right. A school of fish.

He turned in a circle.

The silence buzzed.

The charm around his head pulsed once, flickering. Sirius slapped a hand to it. Held his breath. But the charm held.

Don’t think. Don’t panic. Just move.

He reached out again, pushing aside a curtain of thick weeds, sweeping his wand downward in a desperate arc. 

And then–

A flicker. A flash of movement, just ahead. A ripple. A tail?

Bronze.

Faint. Glinting just beneath a knot of green.

Sirius surged forward.

“Please, please…”

He narrowed his eyes. Shapes slowly resolved: vines, thick and knotted, swirling around…something. Some one. A dull shimmer of scales. Pale arms. A tail, limp and barely moving. Bound.

Remus.

He was buried in a nest of thick, writhing weeds, half-swallowed by the lakebed, arms pinned to his sides. The vines shimmered faintly with old magic. They pulsed, serpentine, like they were alive.

His torso was bound tightly. A thick stalk stretched across his mouth, silencing him.

Remus was awake. His wide eyes locked on Sirius the moment he appeared.

And they were terrified.

Sirius’s heart lurched.

He kicked downward with a burst of speed, slicing through the water, wand first. Remus jerked in his binds, his movements weak and erratic. His mouth moved behind the vines, forming words Sirius couldn’t hear. Bubbles poured from his nose, but the stalk over his face held tight.

Below his waist, his tail was thrashing. His fins curled and flared, coiling against the writhing weeds like a trapped eel. The bronze scales, usually shimmering, now flashed with dissonant, frantic magic. It lashed once, hard, then spasmed into a tight curl as the vines cinched tighter.

It's hurting him.

“Hang on,” Sirius gasped, the words useless inside his bubble charm. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

He reached for the vines. Pulled, but they didn’t budge.

His fingers clawed at one thick coil around Remus’s chest, but it only responded by tightening, slow and malicious, like it enjoyed this. Remus flinched, a muffled groan escaping his throat. He jerked his head in frantic motion, eyes pleading, trying desperately to say words that Sirius couldn’t understand. 

“I don’t– I don’t know what you’re saying, Moony!” Sirius shouted uselessly, voice breaking even inside the bubble.

He yanked again. Nothing. The vines constricted tighter.

“Come on, damn it!”

Remus squeezed his eyes shut in pain. His head thrashed once, hard, toward Sirius’s wand, then again.

He was pointing at his wand.

Magic.

Of course. Think, think.

“I’m trying,” Sirius muttered, fumbling for a spell, his hands shaking now, wand slipping in his grip. His mind scrambled, useless, panic drowning out thoughts.

“Glacius! ” he shouted, firing the spell.

Ice cracked down the vines, frosting them over. They shivered, hissed. But didn’t break.

Sirius’s breathing sped up.

“Diffindo!” he yelled. A thin spark, a snap of green. The vines writhed, but held fast, lashing tighter around Remus’s ribs.

Remus’s chest was rising faster now, eyes fluttering. His strength was draining fast. One last, helpless sound escaped him.

“Please,” Sirius whispered. “Please hold on.”

He clenched his teeth, lifting his wand. Every muscle in his arm shook. He couldn’t afford to fail this time.

“Relashio!” The spell tore from him like a lightning bolt.

It hit the vines dead-on. They recoiled instantly, spasming. Their bright green hue drained into gray, and their movement stuttered and slowed, magic leaching away. The lake shimmered with the aftershock, and Sirius didn’t wait.

He surged forward, tearing the vine from Remus’s face.

The first sound Remus made was a gasp, echoing melodically through the water. But it was a sound. Alive.

“Moony,” he breathed, relief slamming into him fiercely. He cupped Remus’s face, his fingers trembling now that it was over.

“Sirius,” he choked out, voice threaded with relief, low and strange and beautiful in the water.

“I’ve got you,” Sirius said, heart hammering, even though the words wouldn’t reach Remus. He freed Remus’s arms, then worked to unwrap the rest of the vines from his tail.

Remus collapsed against him the moment he was free, shaking, weightless in the water.

“Thank you,” he breathed. 

Sirius pulled him in tightly, arms wrapping around his shoulders like he could shield him from the lake itself. “You absolute idiot,” he whispered, voice cracking with relief.

Remus’s arms curled around Sirius’s middle, clinging to him.

Then…a soft, almost imperceptible hiss.

Sirius flinched. The water around him shimmered oddly.

A thin line of freezing lakewater dipped into the edge of his bubble, creeping in past his cheek.

Sirius reached up. The seal was cracking.

He barely had time to register it before the bubble gave a pop, and collapsed inward, and water surged into his nose and mouth.

He choked. Gasped. Reflexively tried to cough, but sucked in lakewater instead. His limbs jerked. 

Remus’s eyes widened in horror. “No – no, no, no–”

Sirius scrambled for his wand, tried to lift it, tried to speak the spell, but he couldn’t cast without air.

Remus surged forward, hand clamping over Sirius's mouth like he could physically hold the water out. His other arm wrapped tight around Sirius’s middle, crushing them together as he swam the two of them through the water.

Sirius’ body spasmed once, Then again.

“Don’t,” Remus whispered, his voice warped but beautiful as it reached Sirius through the water. “Please. Not you.”

He felt Remus swim hard, tail slicing through the lake with blistering force, and they rocketed upward.

Sirius was slipping, his consciousness fraying at the edges. Water pressed in from all sides, black and cold and relentless. His grip on Remus faltered.

“No. Sirius.” Remus’s voice again, cutting through the flood like a thread of gold. “Stay with me, baby.”

Sirius clung to that voice. To the sound. The shape of it. His hand spasmed, found Remus’s wrist again, held tight. It was the only thing anchoring him. 

Sirius’s world was fading. Blurring. 

And then.

They broke the surface with a violent splash.

Air slammed into Sirius’s lungs like fire. He gasped, choked, retched lake water as his chest convulsed. 

“Merlin,” James’s voice cut through the cave. He dropped to his knees at the rocky ledge. “Are you okay? What the hell happened?”

Sirius collapsed onto the edge of the stone pool, eyes squeezed shut, body shuddering. The warming cloak still clung to his shoulders, dripping and weightless. 

“Sirius. Sirius.” Remus.

“I’m alive,” he rasped, voice hoarse.

Remus was at his side instantly, hands on his cheeks, brushing hair from his face, frantic. His fingers trembled.

“He- he couldn’t recast the charm,” Remus managed, voice breathless. “The seal cracked. He…he was drowning.”

James turned pale. “You were under for ages. I was about to run for Dumbledore.”

“Should have,” Sirius said, turning to pull himself out of the water. James immediately reached down to pull him out, Remus using the last bit of his energy to push him out. Sirius collapsed on the cave floor, arms sprawled out, breathing hard. “I think I inhaled half the bloody lake.”

“You idiot,” James said, voice tight, but shaking. “You bloody idiot. Why didn’t you let me come with you?”

“Your bubble is shit,” Sirius said. 

James made a strangled sound. “That’s not - Sirius, you nearly died . You both -”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Sirius said, cutting him off with more force behind his voice now. “Remus didn’t come back. And then…the cloak floated up.” He looked over at Remus then, who was resting his arms against the ledge. His arms were covered in scratches from the vines. “You weren’t coming back.”

Remus didn’t meet either of their eyes. 

Remus’s arms trembled as he pushed himself up on the stone ledge, sitting next to where Sirius was laying. His skin was pale and gray, and his hair clung to his cheeks in dripping stands. For a long moment, he said nothing. Just sat there, hunched, trying to catch his breath.

James was pacing now, running a hand through his hair, staring between the two of them like he couldn’t quite believe they were really back. 

Sirius turned his head toward Remus. “Moony,” he said. “What happened?”

James stopped pacing. 

Remus exhaled slowly. “I was on my way back. I noticed a current shift, but I didn’t think much of it.” He swallowed, looking down at his tail. “Something wrapped around the fluke in my tail. I thought it was just kelp or lakeweed. But then more of it wrapped around me. So fast. And I couldn’t move.”

Sirius pushed himself up onto his elbow. “You were trapped.”

Remus nodded, his voice quiet. “I tried to fight it. Used every bit of strength I had, but it was like the more I struggled, the tighter it got. Like it was alive.” He paused. “It…it wrapped around my face. My mouth. I was able to breathe through my gills, but I couldn’t make a sound. Couldn’t call for help.” He finally glanced over at Sirius, voice cracking. “I didn’t think anyone would find me. And then I saw you.”

Sirius’s jaw clenched. “I couldn’t understand you. You were trying to tell me something, but I didn’t-”

“I was telling you to use your wand,” Remus said, voice urgent now, as though the memories were still clawing at him. 

James let out a low whistle. “That’s some next-level Dark herbology.”

Remus looked at Sirius again. “I saw your bubble cracking, and I panicked. I thought I was going to lose you. I was so scared, I-”

“Hey,” Sirius got up, sitting next to Remus now. “I know. Me too”

There was silence, filled only by the occasional drop of water. 

James cleared his throat. “This isn’t something we can brush off.”

“We’re not,” Remus said. “But we’re alive.”

James stood again, looking down at them with concern. “I’m going to grab some dry clothes from the castle. Make sure the coast is clear. It’s a bit late in the morning. Please don’t…” he paused, swallowing thickly. “Please don’t go anywhere.”

Sirius blinked up at him, caught off guard. It wasn’t often that James Potter looked scared. Furious, sure. Reckless, often. But not this. This was fear, stark and raw. Sirius nodded, softer now. “We won’t.”

Silence settled around them again.

Sirius shifted, tilting his head toward Remus. “Your voice,” he said, still a little breathless. “It sounded different down there. In the water.”

Remus blinked, surprised. “Different how?”

Sirius gave a half-smile. “Musical. Sort of echoey, but not in a creepy way. Like…like kind of dreamy.” He nudged Remus’s tail with his knee. “I liked it.”

Color bloomed instantly across Remus’s cheeks, flushing all the way up to his ears. He tucked his head, fiddling with the edge of the cloak around Sirius’s shoulders. “It’s just how merfolk sound underwater,” he mumbled. “Not special.”

“Still liked it,” Sirius said again, softer this time. He turned his gaze forward, letting the moment sit. 

Stay with me, baby.  

The words rang through Sirius’s mind. 

Baby. 

He hadn’t imagined it and his cheeks burned at the memory. 

Maybe it was a reaction from a near-death experience for both of them. Maybe it didn’t mean anything. Just a moment of panic or desperation. Either way, Sirius found himself leaning in closer. Remus’s body was still shaking from the bitter cold of the lake, and he wrapped the enchanted cloak around both of their shoulders. 

Sirius hadn’t realized just how intense the lake was, but he was starting to get it. He had often wondered why Remus wouldn’t willingly go swimming nearly every day, being able to feel that freedom that he talked about.

And the way he looked in the water...

Stay with me, baby. 

But he was starting to grasp just how dark a place the lake could be. Especially alone.

He felt more determined than ever to perfect that Bubble-Head Charm so he wouldn’t have to go through things alone anymore. 

“You okay, Moony?” Sirius finally broke the silence.

Remus didn’t respond, a haunted look settled behind his eyes. 

Sirius hesitated for a moment, then reached out and took Remus’s hand, resting gently atop the shimmering tail. Remus inhaled sharply. Sirius realized it was the first time he had ever truly touched his tail. The scales were cool and slick, but warm where his skin met them. Real. Alive. 

“Don’t scare me like that, again,” Remus said quietly, fingers tightened around Sirius’s.

“Back atcha, fish boy,” Sirius murmured, his voice thick.

Chapter Text

The cold didn’t leave Remus. Nearly two weeks passed since the day the lake almost claimed him, claimed Sirius, and still, it clung to him like a second skin. He felt it deep into his bones, behind his eyes, especially in his dreams. Every night he woke up gasping, tangled in the sheets, hands clawing at his throat, his mouth, like the vines were still constricting around him. Sometimes he was alone in the dark of the lake. Sometimes, Sirius was with him, sinking, lifeless.

He refused to go swimming when he didn’t have to. He barely spoke much in general. His smiles, when they appeared at all, were tight-lipped and short-lived. He found himself skipping meals. Skipped jokes and pranks.

And the worst part is that the others noticed. 

James tried, awkwardly, to bring him back. He’d sit beside him at meals, offer a shoulder bump, a laugh, a half-hearted complaint about homework or exams. But James didn’t understand the lake. Not the way it wrapped around Remus like it knew him and whispered to him.

Peter didn’t try at all. Why would he? If he noticed something was off between the rest of the boys, he said nothing.

Only Lily got through. Maybe it was the way she looked at him, like she didn’t expect him to be okay. She would sit with him in the library and not say anything, just keeping him company. Once, she slipped a warm hand over his when he’d started shaking in Charms. But she never asked him to explain. 

Sirius, though. Sirius was the hardest. He hovered. He watched. He tried to joke, tried to tease, tried to drag Remus out of bed one Saturday morning and nearly got hexed for it. And then he stopped trying.

In the meantime, Remus found a quiet reprieve in studying with Callum.

They’d started meeting in the library under the pretense of helping Remus prepare for OWLs, but it had become something of a rhythm. Callum was brilliant at Care of Magical Creatures. He had a knack for explaining things clearly, breaking down magical classifications and temperament tables with ease. He offered study tips, warned Remus which examiners were especially picky, and lent him a few handwritten study guides full of neat sketches and margin notes.

But more than that, it was nice to be with someone who didn’t know. Who didn’t look at him like a ticking clock or a rare phenomenon. Who didn’t call him ‘fish boy,’ or ask whether the lake still pulled at his bones. It was a temporary escape from the heaviness of his other friendships and from the complicated emotions tangled up in them. 

Callum just saw him as Remus. A good student, a clever bloke. 

It wasn’t fair to Callum, maybe. But Remus needed somewhere to breathe. And he realized he enjoyed his company.

Of course, it didn’t go unnoticed.

Remus had caught Sirius glaring at the two of them a few times across the common room or study hall. Never for long, and never when Remus tried to meet his eye. But it left a strange feeling in Remus’s chest. He hadn’t meant to upset anyone, but spending time with Callum felt like the only time that the chill left him, and he was simply able to breathe.

In the dormitory that night, the air was thick with tension. James was sitting on his bed absentmindedly twirling his wand. Remus sat at his desk, reviewing Callum’s notes. Sirius was pacing.

Peter walked into the dorm, his gaze bouncing between the three boys. “Alright, what’s going on? Did I miss something?”

Everyone froze.

James let out a sharp exhale, and Sirius turned slowly towards Peter, eyes like flint. “Is that a joke?”

Peter blinked. “What? No. Did something happen?”

Sirius’s jaw clenched. “Yeah, Pete. You could say something happened. And you weren’t there.”

Peter’s face screwed up. “There for what?”

“For the part where Remus nearly died,” Sirius spat out, voice rising.

“And Sirius almost did, too,” James added, voice low.

“Because I went after him. Into the fucking lake. And you’re asking what happened?”

“Sirius,” Remus finally said, trying to keep his voice calm.

Peter looked between them, confused. “Well how was I supposed to know? You never said anything!”

“Maybe if you’d actually been there, if you didn’t run away, if you didn’t hide when something hard happened-” Sirius took a step forward, fury radiating off him.

“Sirius,” Remus said again, sharper this time. But it was too late.

“No, really, Pete,” Sirius spat. “You’re a coward. You want to be a Marauder when it’s all fun and pranks, but when it’s real, you vanish.”

Peter flushed bright red, his anger rising. “That’s not fair-”

“Not fair?” Sirius barked a laugh. “Remus was nearly dragged to the bottom of the lake by something no one understands, and I had to watch the life drain out of him while trying not to drown myself, and you think that’s not fair ?”

“Sirius, stop,” James finally interrupted.

“I never asked to be involved in his curse,” Peter said, voice rising, pointing an accusing finger at Remus.

Remus stiffened. The words hit like a slap, and the room went silent.

“Pete, don’t-” James was standing now.

“He’s right.”

Everyone turned.

Remus closed his book slowly and stood. His voice was calm. “It is a curse. If I weren’t…what I am, this wouldn’t have happened. None of you should be involved.”

“Don’t say that,” James said quickly, stepping toward him.

“I’m the reason that this happened. If I weren’t- if I weren’t this …Sirius wouldn’t have risked his life. He wouldn’t have been down there at all.”

Sirius was silent.

“I’m different, and I know that. I shouldn’t have dragged all of you into it,” Remus continued, eyes staying glued to the floor. “I shouldn’t have told you. If I had just stayed in the lake, alone, like I was supposed to-”

“Shut up,” Sirius said, voice shaking.

Remus looked up.

“Don’t you dare say you shouldn’t have told us,” Sirius said again, more forcefully.

“Why not?” Remus said bitterly. “Because you don’t want to admit that all of this…everything that happened, it’s all my fault?”

Sirius took a step closer. “It’s not.”

“Yes it is!”

“Remus, no, it’s not.”

“Then why do you look at me like I might vanish?” Remus was shouting now. “Why do you keep waiting for me to break?”

Sirius’s face twisted. “Because I almost lost you! Goddammit, Remus!”

Silence.

James looked between them, stricken. Peter was frozen.

“I think… maybe it’s better if I go through the next one alone,” Remus finally said, voice quiet but firm.

James frowned. “What? Why?”

Remus looked at them both, his chest burning. “It’s days before OWL exams. Not worth the risk. It’s one more moon before summer break. I can handle it.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” Sirius said pointedly, his voice sharp. 

Remus looked up at him. “I do, actually.”

The tension in the room stretched. Sirius’s hands clenched at his sides, and for a second, Remus thought he might argue, might shout at him. But instead, Sirius just shook his head, turned, and walked out of the room.

James swore under his breath. “Brilliant,” he muttered, then followed after him without another word.

That left only Peter. 

He shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m…I’m glad you’re okay, Remus,” he said awkwardly.

Remus gave him a tired nod. “Thanks, Pete.”

Peter lingered a second longer, then mumbled something unintelligible and ducked out the door. 

Remus didn’t follow them.

He stood in the center of the dorm, fists clenched so tightly his nails bit into his palms. The silence pressed in from all sides. It was heavy, suffocating, broken only by the loud thump of his heart in his ears.

He let out a shaky breath and sank down onto the edge of his bed.

Even with his legs, there was a phantom weight, the water pulled at him, trying to drag him under. He curled his fingers around the blanket and stared at the floor. 

You don’t get to decide that, Sirius had said.

But he did. He had to.

Because if he didn’t…Sirius may not come back one day, and it would be Remus’s fault. Again.

He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to force back the stinging burn. He couldn’t stop thinking of the look on Sirius’s face when his charm dispelled. Wild-eyed. Desperate. The way he’d clung to Remus. The feeling of his body going limp as Remus swam faster than he ever had before to get him to the surface.

The memory had rooted itself in Remus’s brain. Unmovable.

I can’t lose you.

And that was the problem.

Sirius didn’t understand. None of them did. This wasn’t some prank gone wrong. This was elemental magic. The lake didn’t play by the rules. It was ancient, it whispered to Remus, called to something deep inside that he still didn’t understand all these years later. He was part of it. 

He saw the Black Lake in his dreams. How the water swallowed him. The peace he felt, how some part of him wanted to stay there in its depths.

And then he saw Sirius, sinking beside him. Reaching for him. Dying for him.

Remus wrapped his arms around himself and squeezed, trying to hold himself together. 

This was Sirius.

Sirius, who would always dive headfirst into danger for someone he loved. Who looked at Remus like he was more than just the merman he was. 

Sirius, who made Remus want things he couldn’t have.

He couldn’t do this. Because one day, the lake would come for him again, and he knew Sirius would try to follow. And next time, Remus might not be able to save him.

So, it was better this way.

Push him away now. Hurt him now. Make him angry. Make him leave. If Sirius hated him, he’d stay away, and be safe.

He couldn’t lose Sirius. He couldn’t.

Remus pressed his forehead to his knees, eyes squeezed shut.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to no one. “I’m so sorry.”

Chapter Text

June arrived quickly. With OWLs looming, the castle had taken on the tense hush of focused panic. Tables at the Great Hall were covered in parchment and textbooks, and the library had become a warzone of scribbled notes and students fighting over the best tables. Remus, for once, didn’t mind the frenzy. The structure helped. Studying gave him something to grip onto, something real to hold in place of all the things he was trying not to feel.

He spent most of his time with Lily, Marlene, and Mary. There was something comforting in their company. Sharp laughter, quiet encouragement, the way Lily would nudge chocolate toward him during revision sessions without comment. They never pressed. Lily never asked about the lake, or Sirius. They never asked when Remus’s hands would start shaking as the chills from the lake returned.

It felt normal. Or close enough to it.

Callum remained a quiet presence too. They studied together often. Usually in the library or by the windows in the common room, quizzing Remus on magical law. He had a way of making the exams feel manageable. He was a calming presence, and Remus liked that about him.

He liked that Callum didn’t treat him like he was fragile. Just a normal fifth-year with too much on his plate. 

It was the morning before the full moon. A Saturday. The last one of the school year. He was dreading it. The memory still gripped him and came back to him in flashes: the tangle of the vines, the coldness of Sirius’s skin. He was terrified to go back out there.

James, Sirius and Peter all chatted at the table, not bothering Remus. They hadn’t bugged him in a while. Not after the fight.

So when Callum approached him at breakfast that morning, asking, “You fancy Hogsmeade later today?” –  casual and hopeful – Remus hesitated.

Remus looked up from his toast. “Hogsmeade?”

Callum shrugged. “Could use the break. You’re probably the only one who hasn’t hexed their notes in frustration this week. Come on. Couple hours off studying might do you some good.”

Remus hesitated a heartbeat longer, then nodded. “Yeah. Alright. I’d like that.”

Across the table, Sirius was staring.

His eyes were sharp, unreadable, and fixed on Remus. Then on Callum. The muscle in his jaw flexed, but he didn’t say anything.

“Brilliant,” Callum said cheerfully. “See you in a bit!”

Remus smiled as he retreated, going back to his toast. When he looked back up, Sirius was still staring. A beat passed. Then Sirius stood abruptly and walked out of the hall.

Hogsmeade was cloud-dappled, but warm, a gray afternoon that felt removed from the tension in the castle. The full moon still loomed, but for a bit, Remus was able to forget about it while the smell of Honeydukes sugary confections wafted through the breeze.

Remus walked beside Callum down the street, shoes clacking against cobblestone. They discussed books, even broomsticks, and absurd theories about Professor Binns. 

“I still say he’s a hypocrite,” Callum was saying, his arms tucked loosely into his pockets. “The man drones on about accountability in Goblin rebellions and hasn’t remembered a seating chart since 1807.”

Remus huffed out a laugh. Callum smiled at him.

“I have a surprisingly deep grudge after he marked my last essay without reading the first paragraph,” he explained.

“Can’t say I miss writing for him,” Remus replied, lips twitching.

“Oh, but your essays always made the rounds in study groups,” Callum teased. “I heard you were basically a celebrity footnote in Ravenclaw last year.”

Remus raised a brow. “You’re joking.”

“Only slightly,” Callum smiled warmly at him. “Someone once said your analysis of goblin diplomacy read like a Ministry brief.”

“That…might be the strangest compliment I’ve ever received.”

“Well, consider it an honor.” Callum bumped his shoulder gently as they passed Gladrags. “Ravenclaws don’t hand out praise lightly, I’m told.”

They ended up outside the Three Broomsticks, the street buzzing with laughter and clinking glasses. Callum bought them each a butterbeer and guided Remus to a shady bench tucked beneath a striped awning. Remus glanced around, looking for any sign of his friends, but thankfully didn’t see them.

“God, that’s better,” Callum sighed after taking a sip of his warm drink. “I enjoy the challenge of exams, don’t get me wrong. But my brain needed that caramel toffee.”

“You’re quite optimistic,” Remus noted, smirking as he sipped.

“Like I said, I enjoy a challenge,” he replied. “Plus, after the stress of OWLs last year, and not worrying about NEWTs just yet, sixth year is a piece of cake.”

Remus gave a soft snort and looked away, the smile lingering longer than it usually did these days. The butterbeer fizzled on his tongue, and his shoulders unknotted before he even realized.

Callum leaned back, eyes closed for a moment, basking. “You know, Kettleburn’s eyebrows are never going to grow back properly. They’ve basically become their own magical creature sitting on his face.”

Remus laughed. A real laugh, loud and sudden. It startled him a little. 

Callum looked pleased. “Good to know I’m still funny when exams are days away.”

“You are,” Remus said, still smiling, though his voice was quieter now. “It’s…nice.”

Callum tilted his head. “You make it sound like laughter’s a rare thing.”

“Lately, it is,” Remus said, but didn’t explain any further. 

A pause. Callum didn't push. Instead, he nudged Remus’s boot gently with his own. “Well. If it helps, I think you’re more ready for exams than you feel. I know there’s probably a lot weighing on you right now. OWLs are a lot of pressure, and it feels like you have to decide everything right now. It’s hard but… you’re not made of just the hard parts, you know?”

“Thanks,” Remus murmured. He was surprised by the softness of the comment. Callum was watching him carefully, like he wasn’t sure if he’d gone too far.

Callum nodded, and the silence that followed wasn’t empty. It felt like space had been cleared between them for something honest.

“Besides,” Callum added, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a tiny box, “I always come prepared for academic apocalypse.”

He popped it open with a practiced flick of his thumb. Inside were several neatly rolled spliffs. He plucked one out and held it between two fingers, offering it to Remus with a wink. 

“For medicinal purposes, of course.”

Remus couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re a prefect.”

Callum shrugged, still smirking. “Yeah, well. We can’t be perfect all the time.” He held the joint out a beat longer, eyes flicking briefly to Remus’s mouth, then back to his eyes. “Besides, I’d argue it’s part of my duty to help my fellow Gryffindors relieve their stress.

Remus eyed the joint, amused despite himself. “Is this your secret to surviving sixth year?”

“One of them,” Callum admitted.

Remus laughed again, shaking his head. “You’re completely mad.”

“And yet, here we are.” 

Remus smiled, accepting the joint. “If McGonagall catches you with those, I’m not covering for you.”

Callum grinned and slid the box back into his pockets. “Noted, Lupin.”

He shoved the joint into the pocket of his pants, and his fingers curled around his glass of butterbeer. Across the street a couple of third-years were chasing each other with enchanted paper planes. 

There was no pressure in the afternoon. No weight. Just the warmth of village life, and someone who didn’t know what lived under the surface of Remus’s skin. 

It was nice. Simple. Easy.

And Remus let himself lean into it for a little while longer.

He slipped out of the castle later that evening. No cloak. No warming charms. He didn’t want the reminder. He just wanted to get through it. 

The water was warming now, summer creeping into the edge of spring, but it still sent a chill up his spine as he stepped into the cave pool. He didn’t go near the lake mouth. Couldn’t. The memory clung to him, dragged behind him. The panic rose up sharp and immediate at just the idea of swimming out beyond the cave, of being caught again.

So he didn’t.

He stayed in the shallows. Let the magic take him. Let the change settle in slow and familiar. When the tail came, it felt heavier than usual. The transformation was more painful. Like it remembered the weight of that night, too. Like it knew that, once again, Remus was alone.

Remus floated in silence.

No games. No talks. Just the soft lap of water against the rock, and the hollow echo of his own breath.

This time, he was alone. Truly.

And maybe that was safest. 

When he returned to the dorm at the earliest hour of the morning, after the moon had let go of its hold on Remus, the room was draped in early morning shadows. His limbs ached, skin still chilled from the pool, and he moved quietly, careful not to wake anyone.

Then he saw it.

Resting on his pillow, placed with a kind of quiet care, was a small package. Not Lily’s usual pink foil-wrapped chocolates - this was different. Neatly wrapped truffles in navy blue foil, resting atop his enchanted cloak, folded and dry.

Remus froze for a moment. Then reached out.

He unwrapped one and popped it into his mouth. It melted slowly, the rich sugars sweet on his tongue. Dark chocolate and sea salt. His eyes fluttered shut.

He let out a quiet sigh, a tiny comfort after a night alone.

He slid into bed carefully, the taste still lingering. As he pulled the blankets up, he heard it: a faint rustle from the other side of the room. From Sirius’s bed.

Remus went still. Listening.

A shift. Then silence.

He stared at the ceiling, his throat tight. A part of him wanted Sirius to speak, to cut through the distance between them. To say that he was there, that he cared.

Another part of him couldn’t bear it.

Finally, Remus turned on his side, drew the curtains closed with a quiet swish, and waited for morning, for the world to start over again.

Chapter Text

Remus didn’t go to breakfast the morning after the full moon. Or lunch. He couldn’t face James, Sirius, even Peter – not yet. He wasn’t ready to see what might be in their eyes. Curiosity, maybe, at how the evening had been for him. Or worse, indifference. What if they didn’t care at all?

Instead, he spent most of the day in the quiet corners of the library, hiding behind stacks of books. No one bothered him except Lily, who found him mid-afternoon and sat down beside him with a stack of flashcards. She passed him a chocolate frog without a word.

“Thanks,” he murmured gratefully.

“I see you’re hiding,” she finally said, unwrapping her own. 

Remus’s frog twitched once in his hand, then stilled. He peeled back the wrapper and took a bite. It helped.

“How was it?” Lily asked softly.

Remus stared at the table for a beat. Then: “Awful.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He really didn’t, but he finally said, “It was cold. Lonely.” He took a deep breath. “I missed them. I just–” He shook his head. “I can’t risk it again.”

Lily reached out and squeezed his hand. “I’m here for you if you need someone.”

They didn’t talk much after that. Just sat with their books and notes spread between them, quietly revising. There was something comforting in the silence with Lily, no expectations or judgments.

As the late afternoon light began to shift across the floor, a familiar voice broke the calm.

“There you are, Lupin.”

Remus looked up to find Callum standing over their table, grinning in that relaxed, easy way of his. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his robes and his hair was slightly tousled. 

“Was starting to think you’d vanished off to the library stacks permanently. Fancy some dinner?”

Remus hesitated, glancing at Lily.

She smirked. “Go. I’ll keep your notes warm for you.”

With a soft laugh, Remus stood and joined Callum. They walked together down the staircase, the low murmur of students in the Great Hall rising to meet them.

Dinner started off light. Callum told some ridiculous story about Peeves replacing the choir’s sheet music with a Howler transcript, and Remus found himself laughing, truly laughing. It felt good. Really good.

The doors to the Great Hall swung open, and James, Peter, and Sirius entered together. When Sirius’s eyes landed on him, on them, he stopped. Just for a moment. 

Then something shifted on his face, walls rising. He turned and made his way over, taking a seat next to Remus, across from Callum. James followed with a cautious look.

Peter trailed behind. 

“So, Callum,” he said, drawing out the syllables just slightly.

“Hi, Black,” Callum said cheerfully. 

“Didn’t realize you and our Moony here were such close mates.”

Callum blinked, then smiled. “Well, I’ve been helping him with OWL preparations, and he’s terrifyingly good at magical law. We’ve been studying together.

“Mm.” Sirius cocked his head. “That what you were doing last night, too?”

“Sirius,” James warned gently, but Sirius ignored him.

Callum gave a small laugh. “No, just a butterbeer run in the afternoon. Hogsmeade.”

“Right. How quaint.” Sirius’s voice was bitter now. “Nice little date before Remus disappears for the rest of the night.”

“Sirius,” Remus said sharply.

But he didn’t stop.

“So, that’s all it takes, huh? A little butterbeer and a shared interest in interspecies tax reform? Romantic. Did you finish it off with a little dip in the lake?”

“Pads. Stop it, yeah?” James interjected, clearly uncomfortable, eyes begging Sirius to stop talking.

“Uh.” Callum’s smile faltered, his gaze flicking uneasily to Remus.

“Well,” Sirius continued, turning his attention to Remus. “Really glad you weren’t alone, though. Would’ve hated to think you didn’t have someone to keep you company, while the rest of us had to just...stay behind.”

“That’s enough,” Remus snapped, standing so abruptly his bench scraped against the floor.

The noise turned a few heads, but Sirius just stared at him, jaw tight.

“Stop,” Remus said again, quieter now but not less firm. “You don’t get to do this.”

Sirius’s mouth opened, then shut again. His nostrils flared, like he had something more to say, but whatever it was died behind his teeth. His eyes shot over to Callum, then back to Remus, and for a breath, the edge of his expression cracked. There was something sharper than anger. 

For a moment, no one said anything else. Callum’s hand hovered near his pumpkin juice. James looked like he wanted to melt into the table. 

Sirius scoffed under his breath, shook his head once, and turned on his heel.

He didn’t come back.

Remus wasn’t able to focus on anything else that anyone was saying. He barely remembered mumbling a half-hearted apology to Callum before getting up and leaving his half-eaten dinner behind.

He stomped back to the dormitory, jaw clenched, his steps echoing too loudly in the stairwell. He just needed to be alone. Just a second to breathe, to think–

Instead, he found Sirius.

He was sitting on his bed, hunched forward with his elbow on his knees, eyes fixed on the floor like it had offended him. His boots were still on, and the storm cloud around him was nearly visible.

Remus stopped in the doorway, breath tight. “Brilliant,” he muttered. “Of course you’re here.”

Sirius looked up, slow and heavy. His eyes were sharp, but tired. “Didn’t feel like watching you giggle over pumpkin juice with Callum anymore.”

Remus barked a laugh. “Right. Because you handled that so maturely.”

“Oh, spare me,” Sirius snapped, standing. “You’ve been avoiding us for days. And then tonight, you’re all laughs and smiles for him?”

“I haven’t been avoiding you–”

“Bullshit!” Sirius barked. “You’ve been shutting us out for weeks! And fine, I understood a few days after what happened. But it’s June, Remus. Peter’s just started coming around again, and James is trying so hard not to push you, and you–” he jabbed a finger at Remus, “–wouldn’t even notice because you’ve been so busy pretending you don’t give a damn.”

Remus stepped forward, trembling with anger. “You think I don’t give a damn? I’m trying to keep you safe, Sirius!”

“From what? You?” Sirius scoffed. “Because, guess what, we already know what you are! We’re still here, and we’re not dead!”

“Not yet,” Remus snapped. “But maybe next time the vines don’t let go. Maybe next time the current drags you down. I can’t be the reason something happens to you.”

“You’re not the reason!” Sirius shouted, pacing now. “You never were! But you keep locking yourself away like it makes anything better!”

Remus’s fists clenched. “Because it does! It makes it safer! You’re not the one who has to feel it – what it’s like down there, when it’s cold and silent and unforgiving.”

Sirius stopped. His chest was heaving. “No,” he said, voice low “I’m just the one who sits in that cave all night wondering if you’re going to come back. I’m the one who you won’t even talk to anymore. Instead, you’re now too busy talking to Callum–”

“Oh, come on, Sirius,” Remus interrupted. “I can have other friends!”

Sirius sneered. “Do you call him ‘baby,’ too?”

The room seemed to snap in half.

Remus’s breath caught. His face went still. “What did you say?”

Sirius’s voice cracked. “You said it. That night. In the lake. ‘Stay with me, baby.’” He laughed, but it was bitter and sharp. “Guess that was just a fluke, huh?”

Remus's stomach turned. "That was-" He bit the inside of his cheek. "That was nothing."

Sirius's face twisted. "Right."

"I was panicking," Remus said, trying to steady his breathing. "You were nearly unconscious, you couldn't breathe. I- I would've said just about anything."

Sirius nodded, slowly, lips curled in a sneer. "Got it."

Remus’s breath hitched. “Why do you care?”

That made Sirius look up. His eyes burned. “Why do I–? Are you serious?”

“Clearly not,” Remus said sharply, taking a step forward now. “Because you’re acting like I betrayed you, when all I’ve done is try to keep you safe–”

“I never asked you to keep me safe!” Sirius snapped. “I chose to be there. I wanted to be there. I dove into that lake for you!"

“And I didn’t want you to drown!” Remus shouted, his voice cracking on the word. “You think I can survive that? Watching you get hurt because of me?”

Sirius laughed bitterly. “You think this is about the lake? You shut me out! You shut me out and I let you, because I thought if I waited long enough, you’d let me back in. But now you’re too busy hiding in Callum’s shadow–”

“Oh, Callum again?” Remus stepped in Sirius’s space now, furious. “You don’t even know him.”

“I know enough,” Sirius hissed. “I know the way he looks at you. The way you smile at him. Like it’s easy. He doesn’t even know you.”

Remus shoved at him. “Don’t you dare–”

Sirius shoved back. “You think you’re the only one hurting?”

“I am terrified all the time, Sirius.” Remus’s voice cracked in a shout, breaking under the weight of it. “Terrified. Of what I am. Of what I could do. I’m scared of the lake, of the dark, of losing everything. And you–”

He cut off, but didn't look away. His eyes locked on Sirius like they were the only steady thing left.

"Say it," Sirius breathed. "Say it."

Remus’s breath came fast. His skin was burning, his heart pounding in his ears. “Sirius, I can’t–”

They stood there, staring at each other in silence for another tense moment.

Sirius shook his head then, coming to some kind of conclusion. “Whatever, Moony.” 

Sirius began turning away from him, but something finally snapped in Remus. Refusing to let him get away again, Remus grabbed his wrist and pulled him back. Sirius’s eyes were wide, glancing down at Remus’s hand on his wrist, then up to his face.

They were close enough to feel each other’s heartbeat. Neither moved. Remus’s fingers flexed on Sirius’s wrist, like he didn’t know whether to pull away or pull closer.

“Remus–” he started.

“Shut up,” Remus growled. Remus’s other hand reached up around the back of Sirius's neck, and they surged forward.

This kiss was hard and fast, fury and need and months – years – of held-back words. Sirius’s hands fisted in Remus’s shirt, dragging him closer. Remus kissed him back like he was gasping for air, like this was the only thing keeping him afloat. It was teeth and heat and desperation, a crash of everything that had built between them. 

Sirius pulled back only enough to breathe against his mouth, his forehead resting against Remus'. "Moony-"

The door handle jiggled, and the boys leapt apart. Their faces were flushed, Sirius’s hair fussed, and they looked at each other with wide eyes.

James and Peter entered a moment later, looking back and forth between Sirius and Remus tentatively.

“Evening, boys,” James said, testing out the tension in the room.

“Hi James,” Remus said quietly. “Pete.”

“Everything okay in here?” James continued, looking at Sirius now. Sirius had turned away from Remus, his back now turned to all of them.

“Uh,” Remus continued. He rubbed a hand over his mouth, trying to hold onto the moment that just happened with Sirius. “Yeah. We just–” He looked over to Sirius, but he was still avoiding everyone’s gaze. “We just needed to get some things off our chests.”

James nodded. Peter walked over to his bed. He shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Remus. “I…I’m sorry,” he began, voice low but sincere. “When I found out…I didn’t handle it well. I was scared, and instead of being a friend, I pulled away. That wasn’t fair to you, Remus.”

Remus blinked, surprise softening his features. He rubbed the back of his neck, then gave a small nod. “Thanks, Peter. And…I’m sorry, too. For shutting all of you out. I thought it was the safest thing to do. I don’t want to make things harder for any of you.”

James cleared his throat, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, I think we’re all in the same boat here, yeah? We’re all friends here. Marauders.”

A tentative smile flickered across Peter’s face, and even Sirius looked over, his expression less stormy.

Remus swallowed the lump in his throat, stealing a glance at Sirius. The air between them hummed with everything still left unsaid, but it was different now. Something had shifted. 

Chapter Text

The kiss should have changed everything.

But it didn’t.

OWLs came in a wave – essays, practical exams, Herbology burns, and exam panic filled the castle. But Remus and Sirius moved through the last few weeks at Hogwarts like nothing had happened.

Except it had. 

Now and then, Sirius would glance over his shoulder just a little too long. Remus would catch him, heart stammering, and look away. Neither of them said a word.

Not in the library, where Sirius sat beside him instead of across. Not in the common room, where their hands sometimes brushed and both of them flinched like cowards.

Not in the quiet corridors outside Defense, where they once stood still together a moment too long.

Remus sometimes wondered if it was all a dream. Until he’d be sitting at his desk in the dorm, looking at the spot where they kissed, only to look up and see that Sirius was looking too. And then it would come rushing back, Sirius’ breath on his cheek, the humming electricity that had lingered for hours in his skin.

Remus believed that it was just the stress and chaos of final exams that prevented them from discussing. 

But soon exams ended. And they still didn’t talk. 

Then term ended, and the four boys were packing their trunks to head home. And Remus and Sirius still didn’t talk.

Then they were boarding the train, and any chance they’d have to talk disappeared and their friends all squished into one compartment. Sirius, Remus, James, Peter, Lily, Marlene, Mary, even Ivy, who had recently started officially dating Peter. 

Sirius and Remus were sitting across from each other, Remus’s long legs getting tangled up with Sirius’. Knees bumping. Every time they brushed, Remus’s stomach would flip. He risked glances up at Sirius, but he was always engrossed in whatever story Peter was telling.

Peter hadn’t been avoiding Remus in the last few weeks. Remus rarely found that he’d willingly be left alone, just the two of them, but it was better than the blatant ignoring of Remus that occurred for the months prior. 

The compartment was loud with laughter as Sirius teased Peter when he was caught snogging Ivy. Ivy blushed, and Peter called him a prick. James would turn to Lily and ask for a goodbye kiss, which she immediately shut down, but her cheeks flushed pink, which only drew the attention of Mary and Marlene who relentlessly teased. 

Halfway through the train ride, Regulus stopped by the compartment. He stood there, looking so similar to Sirius, but so much more severe. 

“Sirius,” he greeted, ignoring everyone else. “Don’t forget what we talked about.”

Sirius just stared for a minute. “Mhm, got it Reggie.” 

Regulus’s lip curled slightly, but he didn’t stick around any longer.

The tone of the compartment dimmed temporarily.

“Alright, mate?” James asked after a few beats of silence. 

“Fine,” Sirius replied, giving his best grin. 

Eventually, conversation resumed, but Remus’s attention was still on Sirius, who had sunk back into his seat, gazing out the window.

Remus nudged his foot against Sirius’s. Their eyes met, and silence passed between them. Neither spoke, but Sirius eventually nodded and smiled at Remus, understanding the silent reassurance. 

The train eventually came to a screeching halt once it reached Platform 9 ¾, and any quiet tension was dispelled by the loud chaos of King’s Cross Station. Students flooded outside the compartment doors, dragging trunks behind them, excited to see their families. Some students shouted their goodbyes to each other across the train, others held each other in tearful goodbyes with promises to write. 

Lily was swept into a hug by her parents, Marlene and Mary hugged each other tightly, and Peter and Ivy stood off to the side for a more private send off. 

Remus stepped off the train with his trunk in tow. He immediately searched the crowd for Sirius who had exited shortly before him. He found him quickly, but grew concerned when he noticed that he was frozen in the crowd. His hands were shaking, and Remus was about to make his way over when he saw her.

Walburga Black was like a statue carved from iron: hard, severe, immovable. Her hand immediately snapped out, fingers curling around Sirius’s upper arm before he had a chance to make it any further. He didn’t say a word. His mouth was tight, eyes forward, but panicked. For one second, his gaze locked on Remus, eyes full of desperate fear. 

Remus took a half-step forward before the world cracked with the sound of Apparition, and they vanished.

Regulus remained behind, face unreadable, standing with their father, Orion Black.

Behind Remus, James stumbled off the train with his own trunk. 

“Did you see that?” James asked Remus. His voice had lost its usual brightness.

Remus nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

“He was supposed to come home with me,” James muttered. “He said— bloody hell. I should’ve gotten off the train with him.”

Remus didn’t answer him, he just kept staring at the spot he was standing only moments before. He couldn’t explain how the air suddenly felt thinner or the deep pit that grew in his stomach.

A familiar voice broke through his thoughts.

“Remus?”

He turned. His mother stood a few feet away, a gray cardigan draped over her shoulders. Hope Lupin always looked slightly awkward in these crowds. She was quiet, composed, and always stood out from the rest of the bright robes of the witches and wizards around her.

Her eyes crinkled with gentle concern. “Alright, love?”

Remus managed a nod and a soft smile. “Yeah. Just tired.”

He turned and embraced his mother. Her small frame was immediately engulfed by Remus, and he breathed in her familiar lavender scent. 

“I swear you’ve grown a foot since I last saw you,” Hope said into Remus’s shoulder.

When they pulled apart, she was smiling up at him. “Ready to go?” she asked.

Remus didn’t often know how to talk to his mother. There was too much between them, it sometimes felt impossible to connect. After Lyall died, she carried on, doing what she could. But she was never able to fully embrace the wizarding world. And the fishy side created an even bigger chasm between them. 

Remus nodded once more, looking over his shoulder one last time at the spot where Sirius disappeared. 

Then he took the handle of his trunk and followed his mother through the crowd.

3 July 1976

Dear Sirius,

The ocean is different from the lake. It’s less hungry here. I’ve been swimming, and it feels like the water is healing something inside me a little bit. But I think the gulls are judging my form.

I feel less afraid now, maybe for the first time since May. Maybe one day you’ll be able to join me here. We can swim together.
Is your mum giving you hell?

Write soon.
Moony

5 July 1976

Moony,

James and I have been studying up on perfecting the Bubble-Head Charm. Not that it'll do us much good stuck here with nothing but dusty books and a nosy house-elf. Stupid underage magic laws. I think I've read the same paragraph about air compression charms five times now.

I keep picturing you out there. Swimming through the ocean, salt on your skin, the whole world soft and quiet under the surface. You probably look like some kind of sea prince. Makes the Black Lake feel like a puddle in comparison.

Wish I could see it. Wish I could be there.

Say hi to the fish for me.
Padfoot

10 July 1976

Pete, 

I just wanted to say thanks for not avoiding me on the train. I know things were weird last term. I think we’re both trying.

I know it isn't as easy as it was before. And I'm sorry for shutting down on you. I guess I thought that if we didn't talk about it, we both could pretend that nothing had changed. But that never really works, does it?

Hope your summer’s alright.
Remus

14 July 1976

Remus,

Not strange. Ivy’s got me visiting her family, and it’s chaos. Not bad, just so many card games. And I keep losing. I think her mum is making up rules as we go.

It’s weird not being all together, yeah? I get so used to the noise of the dorm. James gushing over either Lily or Quidditch, you and Sirius always bickering. Summers always feel quiet in comparison. Even Ivy's family noise isn't the same kind.

Hope you're okay.
Peter

15 July 1976

Sirius,

I climbed the cliffs today. The wind nearly knocked me over but the view was worth it. There's something about standing up there above everything else, the sea below just...drifting. Sometimes it feels like it's calling to me. Maybe just reminding me that I belong somewhere.

The water changes color depending on the sky. It’s kinda magical. Today it was overcast, so the ocean looked silver. When the sun makes an appearance, it turns more green. 

I keep thinking about that day at King’s Cross, the look on your face right before your mum Apparated. Are you alright? How’s home? Or…should I not ask?

Thinking of you.

Moony

17 July 1976

Moony,

Still alive.
Mum’s a nightmare. No surprise there. 
Wish I was at the sea.

-S

18 July 1976

Prongs,

Hope your summer is going well. The coast is beautiful, but I miss being at Hogwarts with you lot. The air here is salty and sharp. Kind of stings a bit at first, but I think I'm getting used to it.

Have you talked to Sirius? I've written and he's replied a few times, but it was barely anything. Just a bit worried about him. 

– Moony

20 July 1976

Moony,

He’s not really talking to me much either. Just sort of vanishes between letters.
We’ve been studying up on the charm, but he’s still been dodging lately. Said his mum’s on some rampage about blood purity again.
Honestly, I’m worried.

Hang in there.
Prongs

24 July 1976

Sirius,

Okay, so “still alive.” That doesn’t exactly reassure a person, you know. I mean, it's not nothing. But it's not really something either.

Are you safe? Really? You don't have to tell me anything. Just want to stop staring at the ceiling at night wondering if you're still breathing or if your mum's cursed the bloody owl.

I miss you. Write back. Please.
– Moony

25 July 1976

Moony,

Can’t write much. Mum’s watching everything.
Wish I was anywhere else.

–S

27 July 1976

James,

He’s getting quiet again. You haven’t seen him in person at all this summer?
Something feels wrong. I can’t shake it.

Remus

28 July 1976

Remus, 

Not once. He’s dodging all of us. I even tried to Floo-call and got Kreacher telling me to sod off. If he doesn’t answer soon, I’ll go over there myself.

– Prongs

29 July 1976

Sirius,

You don’t have to say everything. Just let me know you’re still there.
Or tell me to shut up. Anything.
It’s been stormy lately. The tides feel intense.

Remus

2 August 1976

Peter,

Still haven’t heard from Sirius. James hasn’t either.
Thanks for writing back. 
Is Ivy still dragging you to family game nights?

Remus

5 August  1976

Hey again,

Yeah, every Sunday. Her gran cheats, I swear.
Still no word from Sirius here either. 
Let me know if you hear something?

Peter

10 August 1976

Remus,

He’s here.
He showed up on the Floo in the middle of the night, no letter, no warning. He looked wrecked and like he hadn't slept in days.
He hasn’t said much. Barely eats. Won’t come out of his room.
Come if you can. There’s a room ready. He needs us.

–James

Chapter Text

Remus read the letter from James three times. He sat on the edge of his bed, just staring at it.

He needed to go.

But he could already feel the pull. The ache in his knees, the tingling of his skin. The full moon was rising tonight. Of course it was.

He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes, breathing hard. It wasn’t fair. Sirius needed him now. He should be packing, should be on the Floo, should be halfway to the Potters already. But instead–

Instead he had to go down to the sea and let his body change and become something inhuman.

Remus let out a bitter laugh. 

“I hate this,” he said aloud. “I hate this. I hate this.”

But he didn’t have a choice. 

He quickly wrote to James.

James,
The sea has me tonight. I’m so sorry.
I’ll be there first thing tomorrow..
– Remus

He sent the letter off, and then he waited.

The next morning, Hope found Remus walking up from the beach. She had a mug of hot tea waiting for him, and the two of them walked into the cottage together. 

She asked, “Are you packed?”

Remus nodded. She gave him a lidded tin of toffee and a neatly wrapped cake.

“For Euphemia,” she said softly. Then, after a pause. “Mind your manners. And write me if you need anything else.”

He pulled her into a quick, tight hug. She didn’t usually offer them, but this time she hugged back.

The Potters lived in a cheerful, sun-warmed home tucked among wild hedges and rows of honey-colored stone. As soon as he stepped through the gate, James was there, pulling him into a tight, wordless hug before ushering him inside. 

“Thanks for coming,” James said. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

Effie Potter met them in the hallway. She looked like a softer, older version of James. Same sharp cheekbones, same brightness, but the corners of her mouth were tense, as if she hadn’t quite unclenched in days.

“Remus, sweetheart,” she said, brushing his shoulder as she greeted him. “It’s good to see you.”

Remus handed her the dessert tins. “From my mother. Thank you for letting me stay.”

She smiled warmly at him. “That was thoughtful. You boys go on up. I’ll get things ready for lunch.”

James led the way upstairs. “I wrote to Peter, too,” he said over his shoulder. “Asked if he could come, but his family’s gone to the coast. His mum said they’ll be back the day before the train.”

They stopped in front of a closed door.

James knocked softly. “Sirius?”

No answer.

He knocked again, but opened the door.

The curtains were mostly drawn, casting the room in watery blue shadows. Sirius sat curled up on the window seat, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees, head leaning against the glass. He didn’t look up.

James hesitated in the doorway. “Sirius?”

Nothing. 

It wasn’t until Remus stepped forward, and said, “Hey, Pads,” that Sirius’s head snapped around.

Remus froze.

He hadn’t expected…this.

Sirius’s skin was pale and waxy, his hair matted in places like it hadn’t been brushed in days. The bruises under his eyes were stark against his skin, like someone had smudged ink beneath them. His face looked thinner, hollow, and his eyes were rimmed red. Wild, too bright.

Remus’s breath caught.

Sirius blinked at him, lips parting. For a heartbeat, the room stood frozen in place, like it was holding its breath, too. 

Remus stepped into the room slowly. His heart ached seeing him like this.

Sirius didn’t move. His arms stayed locked around his knees, knuckles white. But now that Remus was closer, Remus could see that he was shaking. Not violently, not like a storm, or a shiver from the chill of the Black Lake, but small tremors running through him.

Remus crouched slowly, like approaching a wounded animal. “Hey,” he said again, softer.

That was when Sirius moved.

He didn’t speak, didn’t cry. He just let go of his knees and collapsed forward into Remus’s chest. His hands gripped tight into the back of Remus’s shirt, fists bunching the fabric like it might keep him from falling apart entirely.

Remus didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his arms around him and held on just as tight. One hand cradled the back of Sirius’s head, finger tangling into that familiar mess of black hair.

He breathed in. Sirius still smelled like smoke and parchment. But under that…he was worn thin.

After a while, Remus bent his head to speak into Sirius’s hair. “Do you want to talk about it?”

There was a long pause. Then Sirius shook his head, no.

Remus nodded. He didn’t press.

Eventually, they pulled apart, though Sirius kept one hand hooked in the fabric of Remus’s sleeve like he wasn’t quite ready to let go.

“You should…get cleaned up,” Remus said gently. “If you want.”

Sirius didn’t answer at first. Then, in a voice so quiet Remus barely heard it, he whispered, “Okay.”

While Sirius was in the bath, Effie had set the dining room table for the five of them to eat lunch. Fleamont Potter had been out running errands while Remus had arrived, but returned in time to enjoy a meal of roasted chicken and potatoes. A tin of Hope’s toffee sat open on the counter, half gone already.

Sirius looked better after his bath. He was in clean clothes, hair damp and brushed, some of its usual luster returning. But his face was still hollow, and his eyes had the same wild, distant glean. 

The three boys sat at one side of the table, Effie and Monty across from them. At first, the only sounds were forks against plates, the occasional clink of glass.

“So,” Effie said brightly, “Remus, did you get your OWL results back?”

James glanced up then, clearly excited to discuss the topic. “Yeah, Remus, how did you do?”

“Charms and Defense were brilliant,” Remus stated. “And Care of Magical Creatures, of course. How did you do, James?”

“Well enough,” James said with a smirk, nudging Sirius with his elbow. “Even he passed everything. 

Sirius didn’t return the grin, but he did say, “Somehow,” with a wry twist of his mouth. His voice was hoarse, but sure. Already stronger than it had been this morning. “James is a prefect this year."

Monty beamed. “Couldn’t ask for a brighter lot.”

A small smile flickered across Sirius’s lips, but it was gone in an instant.

Another silence fell.

Effie folded her hands together and looked toward Sirius. “Have you thought about what comes next, dear?”

Sirius looked up slowly. “Next?”

“I mean,” she continued gently, “if you don’t plan on returning home–”

“I don’t,” Sirius immediately said. 

Effie just nodded. “If you wanted, we could write to someone at the Ministry. Explain the situation. There are protections for minors.”

James blinked. “Wait. What do you mean ‘explain the situation’?”

Remus frowned.

Sirius's fingers tightened around his fork, then slowly set it down. He looked at the table as he spoke, voice low but steady. “They found out about some of my letters. The ones I wrote to you all. My mother said I was choosing blood traitors and half-bloods over family.”

He swallowed. “She hexed me first. Just little ones. The kind meant to humiliate, not hurt. But when I said I wouldn’t stop writing… my father took over. He’s the one who made it worse.” He paused, as if getting stuck back in the memory of what happened. His body shuddered, and he took a deep breath before continuing again. “Regulus tried to step in. He told them they’d lose me if they kept pushing. But they didn’t listen.”

James’s expression had gone white. Remus felt something cold slide down his spine.

“I didn’t pack,” Sirius added quietly. “Reggie packed for me. He kept his head down, said he was just doing what he was told. But he put everything I cared about in my trunk.”

Sirius’s voice cracked slightly. “Then he shoved the Floo powder in my hand and said, ‘Go before they come back.’ So I did.”

“Bloody hell,” James whispered.

Effie reached across the table, her hand brushing lightly over Sirius’s. “You’re safe now, sweetheart. You always have a room here.”

Sirius’s shoulders sagged. “I know.”

Another quiet passed between them.

Eventually, Monty got up, collecting plates. “Anyone interested in some cake, courtesy of Remus?”

Effie smiled. “Yes, Hope sent us a lovely one.”

Remus startled slightly, his voice soft. “Victoria sponge with blackberry jam. It’s her favorite to make in the summer.”

Effie returned with the cake already sliced and handed one to each of the boys. Sirius stared at his plate for a long moment before taking a bite.

The sugar must’ve hit because Sirius made a quiet, surprised sound. “It’s good.” He looked up and met Remus’s eyes for the first time since sitting down, and, for just a moment, his eyes softened.

The days passed peacefully at the Potters. The summer sun painted stripes across the hallway rugs of their home, dust motes glowing in the rays. It was gentle.

Sirius began to look like himself again. In pieces. He still woke late and rarely said much at breakfast, but he brushed his hair without being asked. He wore clean clothes. Sometimes he wandered into the garden out back just to sit. He flinched less when someone entered a room unexpectedly. He even smiled once or twice.

One morning, as Effie floated breakfast plates to the table, Sirius took his usual seat beside Remus and said, almost absently, “Thanks, Mum.”

He froze the second the words left his mouth.

Effie stopped in the middle of the room, one hand still mid-wave with her wand. Her eyes were soft with surprise, then brimmed with tears. Sirius looked down, fast, shoulders hunched like he wished he could vanish.

But then Effie crossed to him and laid a hand on his back.

Sirius didn’t speak, but he didn’t pull away.

One afternoon, they took their lunch outside. James had already been flying for an hour, his broom carving wide arcs in the backyard as he shouted commentary to himself. He was practicing to be Gryffindor captain. He hadn’t officially been given the badge yet, but everyone knew it was coming.

Remus and Sirius sat in the grass beneath the shade of a sycamore tree, a jug of cold pumpkin juice between them and one of the Potters’ cats curled into a warm pile beside Sirius’s leg.

They watched James for a while.

“He’s going to hurt himself,” Sirius said, eventually.

Remus smiled. “Probably.”

The breeze stirred the grass around them. Insects buzzed lazily. Somewhere, Effie hummed a tune through an open window.

Sirius shifted. He pulled his knees up and rested his arms on them. “She went through my head.”

Remus blinked. “Who did?”

Sirius didn’t look at him. “My mother. Walburga. She used Legilimency.”

Remus sat up straighter, the air going still.

“I didn’t know she could,” Sirius continued. “Maybe she’d been doing it for years. But this time…she saw everything. That night. With you.”

Remus felt his chest go tight.

Sirius glanced at him, then. “I pushed down the lake. The merman stuff. She didn’t see that, I swear. Once I realized what she could do, I buried it so deep she wouldn’t be able to find it. But the rest– the…kiss. She saw it.”

Remus’s breath caught. That was the first time either of them had acknowledged it – that the kiss happened. That it hadn’t been a dream or something imagined in an act of adrenaline. 

And now it had been witnessed. Violated. Taken by someone who would never understand what it meant.

Then finally, Remus said, “So she knows.”

“She just looked at me like I was filth,” Sirius continued. “Said I was impure. Said I needed to be reminded who I was. Who our family was. Toujours Pur. ”

He was quiet for a moment. James whooped from overhead, oblivious.

“We argued. I told them I didn’t want to be a Black anymore. Told them I’d rather live in Azkaban than that house. That’s when they did it. First my mother, then my father. Over and over until I was barely conscious anymore.”

Remus swallowed hard. His hands had curled into the grass.

“They didn’t want to kill me,” Sirius said, voice flat. “Just…break me.”

Another silence passed.

“Regulus came in afterward with my bags,” Sirius went on. “He saw me on the floor, shaking. I tried to make him come with me, but he wouldn’t.”

Remus reached over and touched his wrist. Sirius flinched, but only slightly. And he didn’t pull away.

“I’m scared for him,” Sirius said. “But I’m so fucking angry, too. He stayed. He always stays.”

Silence passed between them once more.  Sirius was shaking his head, as if trying to rid himself of the memories.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come earlier,” Remus finally said. “The day James wrote to me that you were here…it was a full moon. I couldn’t–”

“You don’t have to apologize for that,” Sirius replied, cutting him off. “I’m not sure I would have wanted you to see me like that, anyway. Believe it or not, I was in worse shape from when you saw me the next day.” Sirius paused and then took a deep breath. “I thought about you a lot this summer. Imagining you swimming out in the ocean, completely free, not worrying about any of the creatures of the lake. I think I had dreams of being out there, escaping into the waters with you, nearly every night.”

Remus could feel the blood rush up to his cheeks, his ears. He couldn’t deny that he had similar thoughts while swimming over the summer. The sea didn’t feel as bleak as the Black Lake, and he wouldn’t help but wish that he was able to share it with someone. With Sirius.

After several minutes, Remus quietly said, “This is the first time either of us has mentioned it.”

Sirius froze, glancing sideways at him. He seemed to immediately know exactly what Remus was referring to. The kiss. 

It still hung heavy between them.

“I know.”

Just then, Effie’s voice rang through the yard. “Dinner!”

James swooped down off his broom, and joined the other two boys. “Ready, lads?” 

Remus got up first, reaching down a hand to help Sirius. He took it. Remus wished he could keep holding his hand, but instead, he reached an arm around Sirius’s shoulders instead, trying to keep him grounded, and the three of them headed up the path to the house.

The end of summer came quickly after that.

Suitcases were packed. Books were shrunk and tucked into bags. James helped Sirius trim his hair a bit shorter, and Effie made sure they each had scarves packed for the brisk early mornings in the castle.

Remus and Sirius didn’t speak of it again. Not of his mother or the kiss. It hung there, unspoken. And Sirius didn’t seem to want to revisit it. He was louder again, quicker with his wit. Nearly back to normal. But Remus could tell it took effort. That he was forcing himself to be okay. Because if he wasn’t, people at school may see him differently.

On the train, before anyone else joined their compartment, Sirius and James turned eagerly to Remus.

“Oi,” James said. “We think we’ve got it.”

Sirius grinned. “We’re pretty sure we’ve nailed the Bubble-Head Charm now. Took ages since we couldn’t use magic to practice, but we’ve been practicing the wand movements, the incantation, everything. We’re pretty sure we’ve got it.”

James nodded. “We’ll try for real during the full moon next week.”

Remus hesitated. “You’re not going all the way into the lake.”

Sirius blinked. “Why not?”

“Because even I don’t feel comfortable going back out there yet,” Remus said. “Not all the way.”

Sirius studied him for a second, then nodded. “Alright. Just in the cave, then.”

James nodded enthusiastically.

Sirius’s expression brightened then. “Moony, how was the ocean?”

Before they could say more, the compartment door slid open and Peter stepped in.

“Hey,” he said, settling into the seat beside James. He glanced at Sirius, then Remus. “Nice summer?”

No one said anything. Finally, Sirius said, “Yeah. Moony was just going to tell us about swimming at the coast.”

Peter shifted a bit. “Must’ve been weird. Being out in the open like that.”

Remus nodded. “Weird. Different from the lake. But so beautiful. So big it felt fake.”

Peter looked a bit uneasy, but asked, “What was it like?”

Remus’s face softened. “Cold. Clear. Deep. Salty. But less intimidating than the lake.”

Peter nodded slowly. “Sounds kind of terrifying.”

“It was,” Remus said. “But not in a bad way.”

They were still talking when Mary and Marlene arrived, bringing that conversation to an end. They were laughing about the first-years running around the corridors, and the mood in the compartment shifted into something lighter.

Finally, Lily appeared, sliding the door open and stepping inside. “Well, guess what?” she said, already grinning. 

James perked up. “What?”

“I’m a prefect again,” she announced with a grin.

“What a coincidence,” James said, beaming at her. “I’m also a prefect this year. Guess we’ll be spending loads of time together.” Lily flushed slightly.

She cleared her throat. “I also heard that Callum Fletcher got Head Boy.”

Sirius groaned audibly and rolled his eyes so hard it was almost theatrical.

Lily blinked. “What is your problem with Callum?”

Remus smirked into his hand.

Sirius fumbled. “He’s just…too tall.”

Mary snorted. “That’s your reason?”

“I’m taller,” Remus said with a knowing smile.

“Yeah,” Sirius continued. “But you’re…you know. That’s different.” Sirius cheeks were starting to turn red. 

Sirius glanced at Remus again, his expression unreadable. He didn’t say anything, but his knee nudged lightly against Remus’, deliberately this time. Remus didn’t pull away.

Lily narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, and Remus just looked out the window, biting back a smile.

The train rumbled on towards Hogwarts, carrying them towards their sixth year.

Chapter Text

The first week back at Hogwarts passed in a pleasant blur. The castle was warm with late summer days, and the air buzzed with the energy of returning students. For Remus, the shift back into routine was welcome after the fear of the summer. However, he couldn’t deny that he missed the salty breeze of the ocean at the coast in St. Ives.

Sirius seemed to be doing a lot better after the events of the summer, lighter somehow, laughing more easily, and louder now that he was around all of his friends. But every once in a while, Remus caught a ghost in his eyes, as if he were reliving something dark behind them. It only ever lasted a second before Sirius blinked it away and smiled like nothing had happened.

At the Welcome Feast, Remus sat next to Peter, James and Sirius across from them. Remus tried not to overthink the way that Sirius’s foot slid up against his under the table. The food was comforting and rich, the noise of the Hall a steady backdrop. 

“Lupin, hi!” 

Remus looked up to see Callum Fletcher approach him with a friendly smile. His golden curls were shorter than last year, his uniform crisp, and his Head Boy badge was pinned smartly to his robes. He swung one leg over the bench and settled on beside Remus, sitting so he faced him fully. 

“Hi Callum, nice summer?” Remus asked cheerfully.

“Yeah. Yours?” 

Remus nodded. “Congrats on making Head Boy.”

Callum blushed and rubbed the back of his neck muttering a soft thanks.

“How did OWLs go?”

“Oh. Good. Potions was…difficult. But everything else felt manageable. Care of Magical Creatures was simple because of all your notes. So…thanks for that.”

Callum smiled. “Anytime. Well, welcome back. Let me know if you ever want to study together again this year.”

He leaned in slightly, voice dropping just a bit. “Greenhouses are usually quiet after curfew. Good spot to chill. Could bring something to help unwind, if you’re into that.”

Remus blinked, caught a little off guard, but gave a polite nod. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Callum grinned. “No pressure. Just saying.” And with that, Callum swung his leg back over the bench and headed down the table to greet his fellow seventh-years. 

Sirius leaned in immediately, lips twitching. “Study together? Is that what we’re calling it these days?” 

Remus rolled his eyes. “He’s just being nice.”

“Mmhmm. Sure. Being nice with his eyes and that little smirk.”

Remus didn’t respond, just continued eating his food. Across the table, James raised an eyebrow. “What’s with you? You’re being weird. Still don’t like the guy? Too tall ?”

Sirius scoffed. “I’m not weird. Just...you know, protective.”

James snorted. “Since when are you protective of studying ?”

Sirius opened his mouth, then shut it again, scowling down at his own plate now. 

“Right,” James muttered, eyes narrowing. “Definitely not weird at all.”

Once classes resumed, professors were already out assigning essays and homework as if the sixth years hadn’t just spent the end of the previous term stressing over OWLs. 

In Astronomy, Professor Rivera brought the class to quiet as she tapped her wand against the star chart on the blackboard. The constellation of Virgo glowed faintly behind her, stars twinkling in sequence. 

“Now, before we move forward, it’s worth noting that Mercury will be entering retrograde this weekend, beginning on the tenth,” she began, tone light but knowledgeable. 

A few students groaned, but Rivera raised an eyebrow. “This isn’t just a Muggle superstition. In magical astronomy, planetary retrogrades can have real effects, particularly Mercury’s. Its influence governs communication, logic, perception, elemental balance. When in retrograde, that influence can become unstable, refracted through magical fields like a cracked lens. Any of you interested in Divination, Magical Alchemy, or Advanced Elemental Theory will know that retrogrades, especially Mercury’s, tend to distort elemental magic.”

Remus felt his whole body tense, a chill crawling up the back of his neck. He didn’t dare glance at the window overlooking the distant line of the Black Lake. 

Professor Rivera continued. “This is not inherently dangerous, but it can be unstable. Many spells may ripple outwards, charms may lose integrity, and brews may curdle. Effects can oftentimes be…unpredictable.”

Remus glanced down at his notes. His vision swam with flashes of moonlight, rippling currents, angry green vines.

Professor Rivera tapped the star chart again, her wand leaving a faint trail of light as the constellation Virgo shimmered. 

“Now,” she said, “retrograde does not inherently mean danger. It means distortion. For most of you, this may be a time to tread carefully.” A few students exchanged somewhat nervous glances, but Remus kept his head down. “Because Mercury governs communication, perception, and travel, you may find things becoming…muddled. Magical misfires. Confusion during duels. A failure of spells to behave as expected.”

A ripple of murmurs swept throughout the classroom. 

“Your assignment for the next few weeks is to chart the astrological influence of the retrograde in one magical discipline of your choice. Divination, Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, all are fair game. You may work in pairs if you so choose. Make sure to include any personal observations.”

Remus watched as James leaned over to Sirius and muttered something. Sirius’s gaze immediately shot to Remus.

“I should also warn,” Rivera added, “we’ve had a history of retrograde-triggered spell anomalies in the past. If something odd happens, like wand backfires, loss of directional sense, sudden emotional surges, report it. This retrograde will last until the first of October.”

After class, as Remus packed his things, Sirius lingered behind.

“Want to partner?” he asked casually. 

Remus blinked, then nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Great,” Sirius said. “We can track Elemental Theory. Water-based casting.”

Remus hesitated, then nodded slowly. “That sounds…fitting.”

But Remus couldn’t shake the unease that settled deeper into his chest.

The first full moon of the school occurred just one week after getting back to Hogwarts. Sirius and James were basically bouncing with excitement about going back to the cave, especially after the disaster of May’s moon, and their absence from June’s. Remus couldn’t deny that he was looking forward to it, too.

Peter had declined to come, still hesitant despite recent developments. The others reassured him that it was fine, but Remus didn’t want to push him into something he wasn’t ready for. Lily was waiting dutifully in the common room when the three boys were leaving, offering a gentle, “Be safe,” to Remus. 

Once they arrived at the cave, Remus couldn’t help but take a deep breath, reacquainting himself with the scent of the Black Lake. It was colder than the sea had been, darker, too, but familiar in a way that wrapped around his senses. The surface rippled softly under the flickering charm-light, casting dappled shadows on the cave walls. He slipped beneath without hesitation, letting the water pull him under.

The transformation came easily, despite the usual pain of the full moon. Fins stretched and shimmered, bronze scales catching the light with each easy flick of his tail. The moment his gills opened, Remus inhaled the water. It wasn’t the ocean, not vast or wild, but it was home in its own strange way.

He glided through the cave, letting the water press around him, weightless and strong. For a few minutes, he forgot about the retrograde. Forgot about school. Even forgot about everything still left unsaid between him and Sirius. He was just a shape moving through a world that was welcoming him home.

When he breached the surface near the others, Sirius and James were already laughing at some joke. Sirius looked up, mid-laugh, and stopped. His gaze locked on Remus, lips parting slightly. He didn’t look away.

Remus felt heat creep into his cheeks, unsure whether it was from Sirius’s eyes or the sudden shift in the air around them. He ducked his head and smoothed his hair back, flicking water from his fingers. When he glanced back, Sirius quickly turned his head, cheeks tinged pink, even in the cool light.

James didn’t seem to notice. “There he is! Thought you’d abandoned us to go hang with the squid instead.”

It wasn’t long before James and Sirius took off their own shirts and dove in, eager to demonstrate their now-consistent Bubble-Head Charms with theatrical flourish. The three of them swam underneath the surface, never leaving the confines of the cave pool. And for the first time in weeks, Remus found himself actually smiling along with his friends. 

Beneath the surface, the world changed. Sound dulled, movement slowed, and the light shifted to a soft, otherworldly glow. Remus turned in the water, searching, until he spotted Sirius nearby, suspended in the gentle current, the shimmering sphere of the Bubble-Head Charm encasing his face.

Remus swam toward him, tail cutting a smooth arc through the water. When he reached him, he hovered there for a moment. Sirius watched him closely.

Remus tilted his head and said, his voice a gentle ripple in the water, musical and clear in the way only his underwater speech could be, “Your charm is impressive.”

Sirius’s face lit up. Inside the charm, he grinned wide, but he didn’t speak, knowing Remus wouldn’t be able to hear him past the magic of the bubble. But he’d heard Remus. That much was clear.

He lifted one hand, fingers brushing lightly against the water in a silent wave. His cheeks colored faintly.

Above them, James floated on his back near the surface, blissfully unaware of the quiet moment unfolding beneath.

Remus chuckled softly, the sound a silvery pulse through the water, and turned in the current, letting himself drift a little closer. 

Sirius’ expression shifted slightly, and he reached forward, fingers barely grazing Remus’ arm.

The touch was light, almost unsure. But Remus didn’t pull away.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. The glow of the cave lights shimmered around them, casting halos across the surface. Remus felt the water around them hum like a held breath. He wasn’t cold. Not even nervous. Just so aware. Of Sirius, of their closeness. 

And then Sirius pulled his hand back, lips quirking sheepishly.

Remus smiled, then looked toward the surface, and swam up.

“This is brilliant,” James said, sighing dramatically. “We should just live here.”

Sirius surfaced only a moment later, dispelling the charm around his face.

Sirius snorted. “Tell the grindylows that. See how long you last without toes.” 

Remus chuckled under his breath, but he found himself staring distantly at the charmed twinkling lights. There was a tightness in his chest that he couldn’t shake.

Sirius noticed. “Alright, Moony?”

He hesitated. “Just thinking about the retrograde.”

James groaned. "Don’t tell me Rivera’s got you spooked. It’s just one of those sky things people like to complain about. We’ve lived through loads of them and barely noticed.”

“Maybe,” Remus said. “But this one feels different. It’s probably stupid. Just a gut feeling, I guess.”

“What kind of gut feeling?” Sirius asked. He was treading water beside him, drifting close until his foot brushed gently against Remus’s tail.

The contact sent a jolt through him, sharp and electric. His tail, always more sensitive than his normal legs, twitched reflexively under the surface, a shiver running up his spine. The space where Sirius touched him still tingled, like static. 

Remus tried to ignore the heat crawling up his neck. 

He just shrugged, keeping his gaze on the glowing surface of the water. "Like… something’s off. Just a bad feeling that something is going to go horribly wrong again.”

James flipped upright from where he was floating lazily in the water. “You’re just nervous. Understandable, after how last term ended. But we’re fine now. We’ve got this place, our spells are so solid, and nothing’s gone wrong.”

“Yeah,” Remus said softly. “But just…be careful, both of you. If anything feels weird or off, don’t try to be brave. Just…report it and be careful. Promise me?”

Sirius’s eyes lingered on him longer than necessary. “We promise,” he said quietly.

James nodded. “All right, Mum,” he teased but Remus could see the sincerity in his face.

Remus felt a bit better after hearing their promises, but unease still held tight to his gut.

Chapter Text

The first Saturday of term brought with it the year’s first Hogsmeade visit, and the promise of butterbeer, sweets, and some much-needed normalcy. The sun was warm for September, and the village buzzed with chatter. Peter had joined them for the trip, still somewhat reserved around Remus with lingering tension from the last term, but he didn’t seem outright unfriendly. He didn’t complain when James dragged him into Zonko’s or when Remus insisted on browsing every new title in the bookshop’s Magical Theory section.

At the Three Broomsticks, the group squeezed into a booth near the back, foam-topped mugs in front of them. Madam Rosmerta offered her usual warm smile, winking at Sirius when he complimented what she had been doing with her hair lately. Remus found himself relaxing, soothed by the familiar scent of butterbeer and the hum of conversation.

“I can’t wait to turn seventeen,” Sirius declared, tipping back his drink. “Firewhiskey, Apparition, no more Trace. Some freedom .”

James snorted into his mug. “As if your age has stopped you from drinking before.”

“Right,” Peter added with a grin. “You definitely didn’t need to be seventeen to smuggle that bottle of Ogeden’s last year.”

“Or to fall asleep in the common room with it in your lap,” Remus added, lips twitching.

Sirius waved a hand grandly. “Minor technicality. But come November, I’m a free man.”

Their laughter mingled with the clink of glasses and chairs scraping across the wooden floors. For a while, it felt easy.

Outside the window, students passed by in cheerful groups, arms full of Honeydukes bags and joke shop goods. Regulus Black was among them, flanked by several Slytherins. He didn’t look toward the Three Broomsticks, but Remus caught Sirius’s eyes tracking his younger brother until the crowd swallowed him again. Sirius said nothing, just tightened his grip around his mug.

From a nearby table, Callum Fletcher raised a hand in greeting. He gave Remus a friendly wave and a smile before turning back to his group. Remus couldn’t help the slight flutter in his stomach in a way he didn’t quite want to examine.

James raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t he your study buddy?”

“Apparently everyone’s very invested in my academic relationships this year,” Remus muttered, staring down into his butterbeer.

Peter chuckled. “You’re just popular, Moony.”

But beneath the laughter and easy conversation, something in Remus itched. 

Peter was mid-sip when James grinned wickedly and said, “So, Pete. Things going well with you and Ivy?"

Peter nearly choked on his butterbeer. “Huh? Oh, yeah.” He wiped the foam from his upper lip. “Great, actually. Enjoyed the summer with her.”

James grinned. “You know, I think Pete might actually be the most romantic of us all. A whole term and still going strong.”

“We’ve only been dating since the end of last term!” Peter protested.

“Exactly. That’s basically a lifetime,” Sirius said, grinning. “What do you two even talk about? Herbology?”

“She’s also in Care of Magical Creatures,” Peter said defensively. “And she’s actually really smart.”

“She’s lovely,” Remus said helpfully.

“She is,” Peter agreed, softening. “And she likes me. So maybe I don’t need to care what you lot think.”

“Oooh,” James said, mock-swooning. “That man is in love.”

“Am not!” 

They all laughed, and the mood stayed buoyant until James leaned back in his chair, giving Sirius a lazy grin. “Maybe this is the year we all end up in relationships.”

“Oh, Merlin,” Sirius groaned dramatically. “Here we go.”

Remus chuckled into his drink.

“No, I’m serious!” James said, elbowing him. “Peter’s off the market. I’ve got my eyes set on Lily–”

“I’m shocked,” Sirius muttered.

“ –and I’m telling you, Sirius,” James went on, ignoring the interruption, “Mary Macdonald has been giving you those looks. You know, the fluttery lashes, the casual hand-in-the-hair stuff.”

Sirius scoffed. “Mary’s nice, sure. Beautiful even. Great laugh.”

Remus’s stomach knotted.

“But?” James prompted.

“But I don’t know. There are loads of girls who’ve been interested.” Sirius waved a hand. “None of them have really stuck. Haven’t found the one.”

Remus glanced down at his butterbeer, heart thudding a little faster than it should.”

“Well, you could do worse than Mary,” Peter chimed in. “She’s fit.”

“Not denying that,” Sirius said breezily. “Just…not sure she’s my type.”

Remus wasn’t sure if he imagined the quick glance Sirius gave him over the rim of his mug, but he looked away quickly, focusing very hard on the foam in his own cup.

“That’s bollocks,” James said. “Mary Macdonald not your type? She’s one of the prettiest girls in our year.”

Peter nodded. “Easily top five. Behind Ivy, of course.”

"And Lily," James added.

Sirius tilted his head, the corner of his mouth curling into that too-confident smirk he wore like second skin. “You’re not wrong. We’d make a devastatingly attractive couple.”

He leaned back in his chair, one arm slung lazily over the backrest, tossing his hair in a way that was surely practiced. “Imagine the two of us walking into Hogsmeade together. People would weep.”

James burst out laughing. “You’re such a wanker.”

Peter shoved him playfully. “Arrogant git.”

Sirius just grinned wider, looking completely unbothered and self-assured, basking in their laughter like it was a spotlight.

Remus kept his eyes on the rim of his mug, teeth pressed tight behind a faint smile. His fingers curled slightly against the warm ceramic. The joke should’ve rolled off his back. This was Sirius, after all. But there was a bitter sting that stuck behind his ribs.

Because Sirius would make a good couple with someone like Mary. She was bright, kind, openly flirty in a way Remus would never be able to be. And Sirius could joke about it like it didn’t matter.

Remus wasn’t sure what he was to Sirius. They’d never discussed anything that happened between them last term.

He took a long sip of butterbeer, forcing a smile when James elbowed him with a grin. 

“Oi, Moony, what about you?” James asked. “You secretly pining after anyone?”

Remus snorted faintly. “I think I’ll pass on the matchmaking.”

“Tragic,” Sirius said with a dramatic sigh. “Think of the double dates.”

That earned another round of laughter from James and Peter, who launched into a joking debate about who among them would get married first. James swore up and down it would be him and Lily, despite the minor detail that she still only barely tolerated being around him. Peter claimed he’d beat them all to it and have a dozen kids by thirty.

Remus let their voices wash over him, the smile still plastered to his face. He took another sip of butterbeer, eyes flicking across the table.

And he caught Sirius looking at him.

Not the showy Sirius from a moment ago, not the one grinning like a madman under praise and teasing. This was quiet. The smirk gone, eyes a bit unsure.

Their gazes held, just for a breath too long.

Remus’s heart thudded.

Then Sirius looked away. Just a flick of his eyes, back to James, laughing again as if nothing had happened. As if there hadn’t been something sharp and unspoken in that moment. 

Remus lowered his gaze to his drink, jaw tight.

By Sunday morning, the tone inside the castle had changed.

The Great Hall was quieter than usual at breakfast. A strange hush had settled over the long tables, the low hum of students' voices carrying a note of tension. The clatter of cutlery and low murmurs felt muted, like everyone was waiting for something. When Dumbledore made an appearance, Remus sat up straighter. The headmaster rarely appeared for breakfast unless it was serious.

Dumbledore approached his podium, and the remaining conversations stilled completely.

“Students,” he stated, his voice carrying with its usual calm weight. “I regret to inform you that one of our students, Elspeth Selwyn from Ravenclaw, has been reported missing.”

A few audible gasps rippled through the room. Remus didn’t recognize the name and assumed she must be in a different year.

“She was last seen yesterday afternoon near the Black Lake,” Dumbledore continued. Across the table, Sirius and Remus locked eyes instantly. “If anyone has seen her, or has any information, no matter how small, I urge you to come forward. You may speak to me directly, or to your Head of House. Discretion will be honored.”

There was no dramatic exit. Dumbledore simply gave a small nod and left the Great Hall. But the buzz of speculation resumed almost immediately, low and tense. Eyes drifted toward the Ravenclaw table, where a group of young girls, Elspeth’s friends, presumably, sat pale and silent. One had her hand pressed tightly to her mouth. Another was openly crying.

“That’s awful,” Mary whispered from across the table, her spoon clinking softly against her bowl. “She’s just a fourth-year.”

Marlene leaned in beside her, voice low. “Do you think she got lost in the woods or something?”

Lily shook her head, her expression tight. “No. If she was lost, someone likely would’ve found her by now. Something’s not right.”

James, sitting across from Lily, frowned and glanced at the Ravenclaw table. “Do any of you actually know her? Elspeth?”

“No,” Peter said quickly, shaking his head.

Sirius shrugged, poking at the crust of his toast. “Name sounds familiar, but I don’t think I’ve ever talked to her.”

“Well,” James muttered, “doesn’t matter. Still horrible.”

Remus nodded mutely, but inside, his stomach coiled. Because that gnawing, crawling feeling he’d had in the cave… the unease that had been clinging to him since the start of term, had not been in vain.

And something had gone horribly wrong.

The mood in the castle had shifted. Gossip died down fairly quickly when no new information surfaced. Elspeth’s name hung over the halls like a cold mist. The Ravenclaw table stayed quieter than usual. The younger students traveled in groups. Even Peeves seemed to sense the shift in tone, floating silently through the corridors instead of making his usual ruckus. 

No one knew anything. Or, if they did, no one was talking.

In the common room late one night, Sirius threw himself over a chair by the fireplace. 

“He’s ignoring me,” he muttered.

“Who is?” Remus asked.

“Regulus,” Sirius said, his legs dangling over the armrest of the chair. “I haven’t talked to him since... since this summer. I know we haven’t been close in a while, but now he just…stares. Doesn’t even sneer or anything. He just… watches me sometimes. I tried to approach him once, ask how things were at the house… after . He just walked away from me.”

James, Remus, and Peter all exchanged a glance. No one knew what to say.

Sirius trailed off. He wasn’t looking at anyone now, fingers worrying a loose thread on his sleeve. There was something raw in his voice, like he’d scraped himself open just saying it.

“He looked at me like I was… a stranger. Like he didn’t even know who I was.” He paused. “No, it’s like he thinks I’ve failed some great family legacy, and now I’m just a ghost. Like I don’t exist.”

Softly, he added, “Little prick.” 

He tried to sound dismissive, but the way his voice cracked around the words betrayed him. His hands curled tighter into his sleeve.

Remus could tell Sirius wanted to seem unaffected, but it was like watching someone try to bottle the ocean. 

“I’m sorry,” Remus said. “That he’s doing that. That he’s… choosing the wrong side.”

Sirius looked at him, then. Just for a moment. But something like gratitude flickered there.

Silence settled between them.

“Speaking of pricks,” James finally chimed in, clearly trying to shift the mood, “Snivellus has been acting like he’s become the world’s youngest Potion’s master or something. Heard him bragging to Mulciber about his OWL marks.”

“Maybe he’s finally washed the cauldron grease out of his hair and it went straight to his brain,” Sirius muttered.

Remus huffed a quiet laugh, but the mention of Snape twisted something in his stomach.

“He’s been acting a bit strange since the beginning of term,” Peter added, wrinkling his nose. “Saw him in the library the other day muttering to himself over some old dusty book. Something about ancient alchemical spells or something.”

James rolled his eyes. “Why is he always drawn to the creepiest subjects?”

“Creepy guy, creepy interests,” Sirius muttered.

Remus shifted in his seat. “He’s been weird about me,” he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Sirius turned to him, but it was James that said, “What do you mean?”

Remus hesitated, eyes flicking between them. “Last term… remember that day in potions when I… got sick?”

James and Peter nodded. 

“Well…something went wrong with Mulciber’s potion. Replicated an intense tidal pull, and I was forced to transform.” James inhaled sharply. “I made it to the lake in time, and no one saw…other than Sirius. But ever since then…he’s kept watching me. Not just the usual glares. I’d catch him tracking me in the corridors, always quiet, sometimes watching from across the Great Hall.”

“You never said anything,” James said, frowning.

“I didn’t want to make it a thing if it wasn’t one,” Remus muttered. “He never actually did anything. Just… looked. Like he was trying to figure me out.”

“Creepy little git,” Sirius growled.

Remus glanced away, but Sirius leaned in, voice low. “Do you think he knows?”

Remus didn’t answer right away.

“No,” he said finally. “But I think he suspects something.”

James swore under his breath. “That’s just what we need. Snivellus playing detective.”

“We’ll handle it,” Sirius said, his tone sharp. “If he tries anything, we’ll shut it down. You’re not dealing with that greasy bat alone.”

Remus met his eyes again. Sirius looked fierce.

Remus gave him a small nod. “Thanks.”

The tension hung in the air for another beat, before James ranted about his Quidditch captain competitors. 

Remus listened to the conversation, but his mind was elsewhere.

Over the course of the next few days, the pull returned with startling force. Nothing quite as strong as in Potions class during the last term, but just a consistent magnetic hum under his skin. The lake called to him in dreams. The echo of currents swirling against his skin. The phantom pressure of water filling his lungs. When he woke, his sheets were always kicked away and his legs were aching with longing.

He told himself it was just the return to Hogwarts after not being there all summer. 

But twice, he found himself drifting towards the tunnel at the old willow, feet carrying him toward the lake before he even realized.

And the worst part was, he wanted to swim.

Not just in the shallow cave where things were safe and known. He wanted to fully dive into the lake’s depths again. Past the rocks. Past the weeds. Even after what happened in May, after the vines had caught him and dragged him under. After Sirius had nearly drowned trying to pull him free.

Even after that, something deeper, older, was calling to him, and each day it was harder to say no.

Even Sirius noticed.

When Remus admitted that he was itching to swim, Sirius studied his face. He didn’t laugh it off like Remus half-expected, nor did he tease. Instead, he looked genuinely concerned, brows furrowing in thought.

“I mean, I know you’re, like… tied to it or whatever,” Sirius said one morning on their way to Care of Magical Creatures. “But this is new.”

“I know,” Remus told him. “I’ve just been feeling pulled. More than usual.”

Sirius gave him a sharp look. “Like, full moon pulled?”

“No,” Remus said quickly. “Not exactly. Not…physical pain. Just–” he hesitated, struggling for the right words. “Homesickness. Or…hunger, maybe. But in my chest. I know it’s dangerous. Trust me, I know, but..”

“But you still want to go,” Sirius finished.

Remus nodded.

They walked a few more paces in silence. The air was crisp, and Remus felt every breath like a weight in his lungs.

Finally, Sirius spoke again, softer this time. “If you go, don’t go alone. Bring me or James with you. Hell, bring Peter even. Just… don’t disappear.”

Remus looked at him then, and the worry in Sirius’ expression was clearer than ever. It wasn’t just about safety, it was about not being shut out again.

“Okay,” Remus said, managing a faint smile. But even he didn’t believe it.

Chapter Text

Elspeth Selwyn had been missing for over a week when Remus got the summons to Dumbledore’s office. He was sitting in Ancient Runes on a Thursday, when he was called away by Professor McGonagall. Her face was stern and unreadable, though her lips were drawn in a tight line.

“Professor Dumbledore would like to see you, Mr. Lupin,” she had said simply, no other explanation. He caught the concerned gazes of Sirius, James, and Peter as he packed his books and left the classroom. 

Professor McGonagall walked beside him through the castle’s winding staircases without a word. The silence between them was thick and taut. When they reached the stone griffin, it leapt aside at the password, revealing the spiral staircase that led to the headmaster’s office.

The room was warm, draped in golds and dark woods, parchment-strewn tables and softly ticking instruments humming in the corners. Dumbledore stood at the windows, hands clasped behind his back as sunlight spilled across the carpet.

Remus couldn't help but remember the only other time he had been in his office, when he was a first-year, young and terrified in this new place. Back when he was a boy, Dumbledore sat him down, explaining that he was aware of Remus' condition, and that he and his Head of House, Professor McGonagall, would do everything in their power to make sure that he was safe at Hogwarts. He had informed him of the old willow tree entrance to a secret tunnel that led to a cave into the Black Lake where no one would see him during his monthly transformations. Dumbledore had emphasized that Remus must keep his secret from the other students, for there was still so much unknown about what Remus was. 

Remus had nodded sadly, but it wasn't like his new secret life at Hogwarts would be any different from his secret life in St. Ives with his mother. He knew how to keep a secret. And he had for years. 

Now, almost exactly five years later, little had changed in the headmaster's office, including the headmaster, himself. Still old and still, his half-moon glasses sitting at the tip of his nose, he even stood at the same window that he had when Remus had first entered at eleven years old. 

“Thank you for coming so quickly, Mr. Lupin,” Dumbledore now said without glancing at him. His voice was as calm as ever.

Remus hovered near the door. “Is this about Elspeth, sir? I promise, I don’t know anything–”

“I know, Remus,” Dumbledore said, turning to face him and gesturing toward a chair. “Please, sit.”

Cautiously, Remus did.

“Mr. Lupin,” Dumbledore began, “have you ever heard of the Echo Tides?”

“No,” Remus replied. “Should I have?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to. It’s an archaic term. One found mostly in the marginalia of magical theory texts. The Echo Tides refer to magical disturbances during extreme planetary retrogrades, especially Mercury’s. They don’t just affect spellcasting, they affect entire magical ecosystems. They weaken barriers, distort elemental flows… and awaken beings that should remain sleeping.”

Remus stiffened. “The retrograde? You’re saying that’s what caused Elspeth to disappear?”

“I’m saying that the lake is not what it was, and it hasn’t been for some time. The Black Lake is a deeply magical place. During the Echo Tides, its balance has been disrupted. And now, something ancient has stirred.”

Dumbledore walked to one of his shelves and retrieved an old, weathered tome, opening it to a page with an intricate drawing of a humanoid figure with waterlogged limbs and eyes like polished stones.

“Vodyanoy,” he said simply. “Lake spirits from Eastern European folklore. Here, they dwell far below the sediment floor of the lake, dormant. Not malevolent, usually. But elemental.”

Remus leaned forward. “Elemental, how?”

“They are bound to the balance of the lake’s magic,” Dumbledore explained. “When the tides shift, and that balance is thrown off, they awaken. Not to harm – but to correct. To restore. Their understanding of harmony, however, is not ours. It is primal. Ritualistic.”

Dumbledore’s eyes glinted behind his half-moon spectacles. “They interpret magic instability as illness, something that must be purged or absorbed. They do not distinguish between harm and healing the way we do. Their methods are ancient, and in many ways… brutal.”

Remus’s stomach turned. “So, what does that mean? What are they doing?”

“They are absorbing magical essence,” Dumbledore said, voice grave. “Young magic is powerful. To the Vodyanoy, it is like a river’s flood. They believe anchoring such magic to the lake will preserve the ecosystem. They do not know the retrograde will pass on its own.”

Remus’s brow furrowed. “You’re saying they think they’re helping?”

“In their minds,” Dumbledore said gently, “yes. They are stewards, not predators. But their form of stewardship is incompatible with our understanding of autonomy. They do not mean to be cruel. But they will not hesitate to sacrifice individuals for the whole.”

Remus’s hands curled into fists. “So they took Elspeth. To use her magic, and sacrifice her for the lake.”

Dumbledore nodded slowly. “And they have now taken another.”

Remus’s heart stopped. “Who?”

“Callum Fletcher was reported missing from his dormitory this morning.”

The air left Remus’s lungs in a rush. “No– no, he…he was just–”

Dumbledore’s gaze softened. “I understand that you were friends. I am truly sorry.”

“I have to go after them,” Remus said, already rising to his feet.

“That is why I’ve called you here,” Dumbledore said calmly. “Your connection to the lake, your…duality, it makes you uniquely capable. You may be able to enter their realm without triggering their defensive instincts. You may be able to speak with them in a way they recognize.”

“Will they listen?” Remus asked. His voice cracked. “Will they give them back?”

“I do not know,” Dumbledore admitted. “But I believe you are their best chance.”

Remus nodded once and turned for the door.

“Be mindful of the pull,” Dumbledore added. “Their magic can be seductive. It preys on longing. You must remember who you are, and why you’re going.”

Remus didn’t answer. He was already running.

Remus tore through the castle corridors, racing past students who shouted at him in confusion until he was climbing down the steps toward the old willow tree. He  descended quickly, the stone walls narrowing until the cave welcomed him, the pool glinting darkly.

He was just tugging off his robes when he heard footsteps behind him.

“Remus!”

He spun around.

Sirius stood at the mouth of the tunnel, breathless and pale, eyes wide with panic. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You shouldn’t be here, Sirius.”

Sirius stormed forward. “You were running through the castle like your life depended on it! Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I don’t have time to explain,” Remus said quickly, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. “Go back to class, Sirius.”

“No.”

“Sirius–”

“No,” Sirius said, his voice steel. He started loosening his own tie. “I’m coming with you.”

Remus’s hands froze. 

“You can’t.”

“I can,” Sirius snapped. “My Bubble-Head Charm is solid. I’ve been practicing all month, you’ve seen it! You’re not going alone.”

Remus shook his head, his breath catching. “It’s not just about the charm. This is dangerous, Sirius. These aren’t just stories. They’ve taken people. They’ve taken Callum.”

“What’s dangerous, Remus? The lake?”

“They’ll take more if I don’t stop them. If I don’t reason with them.”

Sirius moved closed, lowering his voice. “Then I’m going with you. I won’t let you face this alone.”

Remus’s hands trembled. “I can’t lose you.”

“And I can’t let you sacrifice yourself trying to save everyone,” Sirius said, stepping forward again. “I almost lost you last spring, and I'm not going to let it happen again. I don’t care if it’s dangerous.”

Remus looked at him, every nerve screaming. For a second, he imagined what it would be like to dive with Sirius by his side, someone at his back, no longer alone in the dark. 

And then Sirius reached for him, slowly, like approaching something delicate, and cupped Remus’s face in both hands.

“I mean it,” Sirius whispered, foreheads nearly touching. “We do this together.”

Remus’s breath caught. His fingers curled against Sirius’s robes.

And then Remus leaned in.

Their kiss was quick, desperate. The kind that spoke of fear and need and a thousand things still left unspoken. Sirius’ lips were warm and familiar.

It was over in seconds, but Remus’s heart pounded like thunder in his chest.

Sirius opened his eyes just in time to see Remus step back.

“What are you…?”

But Remus was already raising his wand. “Incarcerous.”

The cords of magic shot forward, wrapping tightly around Sirius’s wrists, pinning him to the cave wall. He shouted in shock.

“Remus!”

Remus stepped back, voice breaking. “I’m sorry. I had to.”

“Don’t do this!” Sirius yelled, struggling against the bonds. “You don’t have to do this alone!”

But Remus was already at the water’s edge, stripping the rest of the way. His heart pounded. His limbs trembling. Still, he stepped forward.

“Remus, please.”

He dove. The last thing he heard before the water swallowed him whole was Sirius screaming his name.

Sirius’s POV

Sirius strained against the magical cords, his breath ragged and eyes locked on the still surface of the water. 

“Remus!” he shouted again, though the only answer was silence.

The ropes glowed faintly where they pinned his wrists above his head, biting into his skin with every pull. He twisted, kicked, even tried to wrench his shoulder out of its socket just to move, but Remus had cast the spell too well. Of course he had.

Bloody brilliant bastard.

Sirius cursed under his breath, his chest rising and falling too fast. His wand was still in his pocket, but was useless with his arms stretched and pinned. The cave felt suddenly too small, the air too thin.

He stared at the dark water, still and silent.

Sirius clenched his jaw. “Damn it, Moony…”

He should’ve known. He had known. The moment he saw Remus running through the halls like he was being chased by death itself, he’d known something was wrong.

Not again, his mind whispered. Not like May.

He slammed the back of his head against the cave wall in frustration, blinking fast. “You bloody idiot, Remus.”

But his voice cracked on his name.

Because he wasn’t angry. Not really.

He was terrified.

Remus had tied him up and left him here because he thought Sirius would die if he followed. And Sirius couldn’t even prove him wrong, couldn’t show him he could do it, that he wasn’t afraid of drowning if it meant Remus wouldn’t go alone.

He closed his eyes, chest heaving. He could almost see Remus out there, swimming through dark currents, hair drifting back, eyes catching the lake’s light. Going deeper. Farther.

And Sirius was stuck. Trapped by Remus’s fear.

His lips still burned from the kiss. That brief, aching kiss that had felt like both a promise and a goodbye. 

He swallowed hard and leaned his head back against the cave wall, throat raw.

“Merlin, Moony, please be okay,” he whispered.

All he could do was wait.

Chapter Text

The water was cold and vast. Something ancient and alive pressed against his skin as he swam deeper and deeper. The light from the surface was fading behind him, the dark all around him. His tail cut smoothly through the current, but every kick sent the nerves in his body buzzing, his instincts shrieking.

The lake was alive, not in the way that it had always hummed with quiet magic. This was something sharper. Louder. Unstable . The very thing that had been pulling at Remus for days. 

He was tugged deeper by a current he hadn’t created. He followed it, letting it draw him forward. Past silvery schools of fish that scattered at his approach. Past beds of kelps. Past green vines that taunted him from the lakebed.

He wasn’t sure how long he was under, only that he watched the path of the sun change in the water as he swam.

Then he saw it.

A dome of shimmering magic, like a bubble of air, somehow dry and untouched by the lake around it, suspended in the deepest trench. Shapes moved inside.

Remus surged forward.

Inside the dome, a young girl with dark hair curled up with her arms wrapped around her knees. Beside her, Callum paced in frantic circles. His hands were flying, his mouth was clearly moving, but sound wasn’t traveling past the magic of the dome.

When Callum spotted Remus, he stopped mid-step.

His face twisted in disbelief. 

Remus floated in the water before them, eyes meeting Callum’s through the haze of the barrier. He raised a hand in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture.

Callum stepped toward the edge of the dome, inching closer to where Remus was swimming. His eyes didn’t leave Remus. There was a flicker of recognition, then confusion, then something close to awe.

Remus swam slowly around the perimeter, testing the dome for weaknesses, looking for some way to get them out. He pressed one hand against it. It hummed faintly with a magical energy.

Inside, Callum mirrored his motion, placing his own hand on the other side. Their palms almost touched through the barrier.

But the current shifted.

Something else was here.

The water trembled, vibrating against his skin. A shadow pressed overhead. It was fast.

Remus whipped around. 

A Vodyanoy emerged from the gloom like a nightmare.

It was vaguely humanoid in shape, with long limbs and skin that shimmered like river rock, but its face was a blur, constantly shifting, but its eyes were dark and round and looking directly at Remus. Gills flared along its neck, and in its webbed-hand, it carried a wicked-looking spear made out of something that looked like black coral.

Remus raised both hands in the universal sign of peace.

“I don’t want to fight,” he tried, hoping the creature could understand him. “The imbalance will pass. I can help.”

The Vodyanoy tilted its head, as if considering.

Then it snarled.

And lunged.

Remus barely dodged in time, the spear cutting a streak through the water where his chest had been. He spun around, lashing out with his tail and catching the creature in the side. It reeled back, but struck again, fast and fluid.

Remus dodged again, but barely. The creature’s spear arced with unnatural speed and sliced the side of his tail.

The pain was instant. 

A hot burst, splitting muscle, and blood bloomed in the water around him in thick red clouds. He gritted his teeth and twisted, heart pounding, trying not to scream as his body lurched off balance. 

A sharp crack split the sounds of the lake. Remus spun, and saw the spear had hit the dome. Fine lines spiderwebbed outward from the point of impact. Then a trickle of water forced its way in. 

The barrier that blocked sound was gone, and Remus heard Elspeth scream. 

Callum grabbed her, trying to pull her away from the water, but it was already sloshing around their ankles. 

“Remus!” Callum shouted at him, panic in his eyes.

Something snapped in him.

A burst of energy surged in his core, white-hot and reckless. He spun again, kicked forward, and slammed both fists into the Vodyanoy’s chest. It reeled backward.

Remus didn’t wait.

He snatched the spear from where it stuck out from the dome and dove it hard into the creature’s side.

The Vodyanoy let out a terrible, distorted wail, and then it went still.

Remus didn’t wait to see if it was dead. 

He turned.

“Get back!” he shouted through the water, his voice carrying its musical lilt.

Callum and Elspeth barely had time to react before he slammed the butt of the spear into the crack on the dome. Once. Twice. Three times, until it finally shattered in a rush of bubbles and magic.

Remus shot forward, grabbed Callum with one arm, Elspeth with the other.

“It’s okay,” he told them. “I’ve got you.”

Callum stared at him, dazed, cheeks puffed as he tried to hold onto as much air as he could. His hands found Remus’s shoulder for balance.

He briefly considered going back to the cave. He knew Sirius would still be there waiting. 

But it was too far. 

Up, he decided. Go up.

His arms wrapped tighter around the two students and swam. His tail throbbed with pain but he forced it to move, again and again. 

They broke the surface with a rush of noise and air.

Remus gasped, the cold slap of air burning his lungs as he dragged Elspeth and Callum towards land. 

Elspeth was coughing, sputtering, but alert. Remus kept one arm under her shoulders, the other bracing Callum, guiding them both as he swam toward the castle.

The wind skimmed across the lake. Elspeth clung to him, eyes wide with shock. Callum was staring too, but not at the trees or the castle rising in the distance.

He was staring at Remus. At his tail.

The bronze scales, now streaked with blood.

“You’re…” Callum began, his voice hoarse. “What are you? ”

Remus didn’t answer. He just kept swimming.

He half-dragged, half-pushed them until the shallows welcomed them with stones and reeds. The water was waist-high when Callum stumbled out of his embrace, still staring.

“Remus,” he said again, stepping back toward him. “You’re bleeding, you need to come out–”

“I can’t,” Remus said sharply. Sirius was still waiting.

Callum blinked. “You… can’t?”

Remus gave him a pained look. “Just go. You’ll be safe now.”

Elspeth sat down hard on the shore, wheezing.

Callum hesitated. “But…you saved us. You’re– Remus, we have to tell someone. They’ll come back.”

“I know,” Remus said. “Go back to the castle. Alert Dumbledore.” 

Callum didn’t move. His brow furrowed. “What are you?” He asked again, but this wasn’t a conversation he could have now. 

Remus looked away, jaw tight. “Please, Callum. I promise to explain later. Just… go.”

Callum hesitated, his eyes lingering on Remus’ tail, the gills still fluttering at his ribs, and the blood now mixing in the shallow water.

“You’re still you, right?” Callum asked again, quieter this time. There was something in his gaze, not just fear. But something careful and searching.

Remus met his eyes, and gave him a nod.

Callum gave a slow, hesitant smile, then reached forward and touched Remus’ shoulder. Just a light press of fingers, steady and warm.

“Be careful,” he said.

“Go,” Remus finally said. “Please.”

Callum turned and helped Elspeth to her feet, casting one last, lingering glance at Remus before guiding her toward the castle.

Then Remus turned, and dove back into the lake.

The world shifted as he slipped beneath the surface again. His tail was now screaming at him.

A current hit him like a wall. Angry and thick, charged with ancient, pulsing fury.

They know.

The Vodyanoy were awake. Not just one. All of them. Remus could feel it. 

And they knew that one of their own had been injured… or killed.

Remus didn’t stop, though.

He kicked down, ignoring the fire in his tail, ignoring the burn of his muscles, the fresh trail of blood he was leaving behind.

The lake howled around him in vibrating currents, the magic thick as thunder. He could feel them behind him. Moving, gathering.

But none of that mattered. 

Because Sirius was waiting in that cave, pinned to the wall, probably furious at him.

He drove forward, the edges of the lake growing familiar again, recognizing moss-covered stones as he swam. Almost there.

Sirius’s POV

Sirius’ shoulders burned.

His arms had gone from aching to numb, bound above his head in glowing magical ropes that refused to give an inch. His back was stiff from pressing against the cave wall. His legs trembled with fatigue. Every few minutes, he tried again, twisting and jerking, only to sag back, breathless and no freer than before.

And still, Remus didn’t come back.

The cave pool stretched out before him like a living thing, too calm. Every ripple of water felt like a tease. He had no sense of time anymore, but it felt like hours. 

When he noted movement below the surface, Sirius almost didn’t believe it.

Then he saw his shape, hair clinging to pale skin, bronze scales trailing behind, and something in Sirius cracked over.

“Remus!” he called. “You absolute– bloody– are you okay? ”

Remus was barely upright. He swam over to the ledge, chest heaving. Shaking arms pulled his body out of the water, and he dragged himself over the ledge, inch by inch. His skin was pale.

Sirius’ panic turned sharp. “Remus?”

No answer. Instead, Remus lay on the stone floor, just breathing now, his body now fully out of the water.

Sirius froze.

His tail.

It was still there.

“Remus?” he called again, voice cracking.

Remus didn’t answer. 

“Remus," he said again. "Say something!"

Remus didn't open his eyes. He just continued trying to catch his breath on the cave floor. "I'm sorry."

"What’s happening, why aren’t you changing–”

Remus’s eyes fluttered open. “Don’t know,” he mumbled.

Sirius’ eyes caught onto the dark streak of red that followed him across the cave.

“Remus,” Sirius's voice cracked again with panic. “You’re hurt. You’re bleeding.”

“S’not that bad,” Remus whispered, but Sirius could hear the pain in his voice.

“Well, try something! Get your wand! You have to let me down!”

Remus tried. He pushed himself forward, muscles trembling, tail dragging behind him. 

“It’s–” Remus dragged himself forward, reaching out. “It’s too far.”

Sirius' stomach turned. The wand sat across the cave near his discarded clothes. Barely six feet, but with no legs, it might as well have been a mile.

Remus reached out again, his arms trembling so badly now. The strain on his tail as he shifted made him gasp. 

Then he collapsed, panting, forehead resting against the ground.

“Brilliant,” Sirius muttered, furious and terrified. “Damn it, Remus! This is your fault, you know.”

Remus flinched.

Sirius regretted it instantly, but the words were out already, hanging between them.

“You’re still mad,” Remus said dully after a beat.

“Oh, brilliant deduction.”

“You weren’t supposed to follow me,” Remus snapped, lifting his head.

“And you weren’t supposed to cast a bloody restraining spell on me like I’m some kind of animal.”

“I was trying to keep you safe! ” Remus gritted out.

Silence fell, thick and stifling. Even the lake seemed to hush.

Sirius stared at him, chest heaving. 

“You always do this,” Sirius said, lower now. “You push me out. Never let me choose for myself.”

“I couldn’t–” Remus dragged in a breath. “Sirius, you almost drowned last time. You don’t get it. I thought I was going to lose you.”

“We almost lost each other, or did you forget the part where you were literally bound and gagged by some evil lake seaweed?” Sirius shot back. “And then you kissed me. Twice. And–”

Remus stared at him with wide eyes.

“And then you never said anything,” Sirius finished.

Remus blinked. “You didn’t say anything either.”

Sirius scoffed. “Because I thought you regretted it! ”

“I didn’t!” Remus shouted. “But it wasn’t like we could just… I don’t know, start snogging in the dorms. I don’t even know if I–”

“Don’t know what, Remus?” 

Remus opened his mouth and closed it again.

“I just… I don’t know that…”

“Remus.”

Remus hesitated for a long moment. “I was just going to say…this probably isn’t the best time to have a heart-to-heart.”

“Oh, well, I’m literally trapped to a wall, so I’d say I’ve got the time.” But Sirius knew that wasn’t what he was going to say. 

That got a huff of something close to laughter from Remus. Sirius stared at him, chest tight.

“I think about you all the time, Moony,” Sirius said. “God, I– I’ve felt differently about you for… years, probably. I don’t think I realized what it was that I was feeling, but… I– I like you. I have liked you. Even when I hated you for it.”

Remus looked up at him.

“Same,” he whispered. “You infuriate me.”

“Right back at you.”

Another beat.

Remus’ gaze dropped. “You don’t know how scary it is,” he said quietly. “Liking someone like you. Wanting this. Wanting you.” His breathing was becoming labored. “It’s not just about the lake or what happened last term. It’s… We can’t just be normal. Not like other people. I’m not normal, Sirius.”

“I don’t want to be like other people,” Sirius said fiercely.

Remus huffed. “You say that. But you don’t have to live in my skin. You don’t have to be afraid someone will see.” He looked up at Sirius, raw and shaking. “I’ve spent years trying to stop myself from feeling this. And then you went and followed me that one day, and then you just…looked at me the way you did, once you found out what I am. The same way you’re looking at me now.”

“Beautiful,” Sirius muttered under his breath. He’d said it before, that day he first saw Remus with his tail. He hadn’t meant to say it then, and he didn’t exactly mean to say it now. But both times, it had been true.

Remus gave a weak, bitter laugh. “Yeah, that. Bloody impossible.”

Then Sirius’s eyes darted to the blood still seeping down Remus’s tail. “Moony,” he said quickly. “You’re– fuck, you’re pale. You’re losing too much blood.”

Remus swayed where he sat.

“Try again,” Sirius said desperately, wrists pulling at the magical cords again. “Please, just…try to get your wand. We need to get you some help.”

Remus nodded, teeth gritted. He pulled himself forward an inch, then another. His arm trembled, reaching–

His fingers brushed the wand.

And then, with a soft, terrible groan, he collapsed. His body hit the stone and this time, he didn’t move.

“Remus?”

Sirius thrashed against the binds. “Remus!”

His body was limp, his chest barely rising.

“REMUS!” 

His body was limp. Sirius could barely breathe. His wrists stung. His vision narrowed. 

No no no no–

A noise.

Footsteps.

The tunnel filled with light, and voices echoed off the stone.

Sirius’s head snapped toward the sound. Lily was the first through the tunnel, her eyes going wide. 

“They’re here!” she shouted.

Madam Pomfrey rushed in behind her. Dumbledore followed, calm as ever.

Sirius was shouting from his spot against the wall, straining against his binds.

“Help him! He collapsed. He’s not changing back!”

Dumbledore raised his wand with a flick. The cords vanished. Sirius dropped to the ground, barely catching himself.

He scrambled over to Remus, but Pomfrey and Lily were already there, kneeling beside him.

“His pulse is shallow,” Madam Pomfrey muttered with professionalism. “But I can stop the bleeding.”

“Why isn’t he changing back?” Sirius asked, breathless. “His tail– he’s stuck. Why?”

Pomfrey looked up. “His wound appears to have come from a weapon. It’s a sharp slice. Likely a magical weapon that is disrupting his transfiguration threshold. His magic can’t complete the shift. Until his body fully heals, his ability to shift back will be suspended.”

Lily’s breath caught. “So he’s stuck like this?”

Pomfrey nodded firmly. “We need to get him to the Hospital Wing immediately so we can monitor his condition.”

Dumbledore stepped forward. “Time is of the essence. Rest assured, we will treat this situation with the utmost discretion to protect Mr. Lupin.”

Chapter Text

When Remus woke, he was warm.

For a blissful moment, he didn’t remember. His body felt sore, but his mind was quiet.

Then he shifted.

A bolt of pain laced through his lower half, and he felt a heavy resistance. He gasped, jerking forward.

“Whoa,” came a familiar voice. “Easy.”

Sirius.

Remus blinked as he was gently pushed back into the pillows. Curtains surrounded his bed, dimming the light. A spell. Protective. Contained.

He looked down and noticed the blankets covering him shimmered faintly with some form of magic. 

“What–” he started, voice hoarse.

Sirius gave him a small smile, but his eyes were tired. “You’re awake.”

Remus nodded weakly, but dread was already blooming in his chest. “What happened?” he asked. “Where are we?”

“Hospital Wing,” Sirius replied gently. “You made it back to the cave. You passed out.”

The day before came back to him in flashes. Sirius in the cave. Callum and Elspeth. The Vodyanoy. The spear and injury to his tail.

Remus’s stomach flipped. “The others–?”

“They’re safe. Callum and Elspeth, you got them out.”

Relief hit him so hard he sagged back into the pillows. But the unease on Sirius’s face remained.

“Remus,” he started. Remus shifted again, trying to get more comfortable. 

And then he felt it. He paused, panic blooming in his chest. He ripped the blankets away from him, looking down at his bronze scales where his legs should have been.

“Remus,” Sirius said, placing a hand on his arm. “It’s okay. You’re safe, I promise.”

His breath quickened. He clutched the blanket tight in his fist, throwing it back over his scales, hiding his body up to his gills on his ribs. “Sirius. I can’t– why am I still like this?”

Sirius hesitated. “You’re…stuck. For now. Your tail…hasn’t gone away.”

“What?” Remus asked in a whisper.

“You came back from the water, your tail was bleeding so bad. You passed out. Whatever cut you, it’s blocking you from changing back until it heals.”

The words hit him like a curse. Stuck. With his tail. On land.

His heart picked up, pounding in his ears. He was stranded. Trapped in a body that didn’t belong here.

“I can’t–” Remus started, voice whispering. “I can’t be like this. Not here.”

“Remus,” Sirius said, reaching out once more, his sleeve lifting up his arm, red marks around his wrists now visible.

Rope burns from Remus’ Incarcerous.

“Oh, God, Sirius,” Remus started, grabbing his wrists gently to get a better look. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just– I couldn’t– If something had happened to you–” His voice was breaking now, words cracking apart mid sentence. “I couldn’t let it happen again. I thought that if you followed me–”

“I know,” Sirius said quietly.

But Remus couldn’t stop. “You were right to be angry. So angry. I trapped you. Acted like I didn’t trust you, but I do, I swear I do–”

Sirius leaned forward now, cupping his face in his hands. “Hey.”

Remus blinked at him through tears that were forming. 

“I know you were trying to protect me,” Sirius said. “Don’t get me wrong, I was furious. Still am a bit, but not at you.”

Remus' eyes flicked up to meet his, wide and wet, searching his face for any indication that he was lying that he barely noticed as Sirius leaned in and kissed him. 

No preamble. No warning. 

It was soft, warm, and grounding. 

Remus froze for a second, but quickly melted into it, his hand weakly fisting Sirius’s sleeve. They lingered there, barely breathing, until Sirius pulled back just enough to look at him again.

“You–” Remus started. “You kissed me.”

Sirius stiffened in panic for a moment, his eyes widening. “I–” he started, removing his hands from Remus’ face. “I’m sorry. I thought– We had talked in the cave, before you passed out. I assumed you remembered, and I just thought–”

But Remus grabbed him by the collar, pulling him closer until he was kissing him again. Sirius made a bit of a choked noise in the back of his throat before melting into the kiss. He pressed his tongue against the seam of Sirius’ lips, causing a noise to escape him like a whine. Remus couldn’t help but smile.

“I remember,” he murmured against Sirius’ mouth. 

“Oh,” he replied, a bit breathless. “Right. Good.” And then Sirius kissed him again.

And Remus let it happen, let himself fall into it, because it felt like everything he hadn’t let himself want for so long.

Sirius crawled carefully onto the bed beside him, settling against his side, careful not to disturb his tail, and wrapped his arms around Remus like he’d always belonged there. Remus closed his eyes as Sirius pressed a kiss to his curls.

The warmth of it made his throat burn.

They lay there in silence, until they heard one of the curtains being pulled back.

“Ahem,” Madam Pomfrey’s voice rang sharp and clear. “Mr. Black, I understand the sentiment, but if I could see my patient, please.”

Sirius muttered under his breath and climbed off the bed, offering a sheepish look as he stepped aside.

Pomfrey approached briskly, wand already in hand. “Let’s have a look, then.”

She pulled back the blanket with practiced care.

Remus turned his head away, not wanting to look. He didn’t want to see his tail again, not like this.

“You lost a fair bit of blood,” Pomfrey murmured. “But the gash is healing nicely. Clean cut. Magic-infused wound, but it’s responding well to treatment.”

Remus said nothing. He just stared at the wall. 

“I’ve placed you under a hydrating enchantment as well,” she continued. “Your linens are laced with freshwater infusion charms. They will keep you from drying out while you’re on land. It’s not quite the Black Lake, but it’ll do for now. I recommend keeping the blankets up to your chest so your gills don’t dry out.”

Remus nodded.

“Mr. Fletcher and Miss Selwyn are both doing well,” she added, more gently now. “Resting in the east wing. No lasting damage.”

“They saw me,” Remus said quietly. “Underwater.”

Pomfrey froze briefly, then nodded. “Yes, I assumed.”

Sirius tensed. “Wait, Callum knows?”

“I’ve already spoken with Professor Dumbledore, who will have a discussion with them once they are up and moving again. He also told me that only those who already knew about Mr. Lupin’s condition are aware of where he is now.”

Remus’s eyes flicked to Sirius. “Mr. Potter and Mr. Pettigrew, I assume. Miss Evans, of course. Mr. Fletcher and Miss Selwyn will likely also be informed, but only your roommates and Lily have permission to visit, and only if you’re up for it.”

“It’s fine,” Remus said. “If Callum and Elspeth want to come. I’d rather… talk to them myself.”

Pomfrey nodded. “I’ll allow it then.”

She gently replaced his bandages, covering his tail once again with the enchanted blankets. “I don’t expect the healing to take longer than a week,” she said. “You’ll be sore, but the transformation magic should return once the wound closes fully. Your body won’t be able to shift back before you’re healed.”

Sirius moved closer again, seated at Remus’s bedside. “That long, huh?”

“It’s just a week,” Pomfrey confirmed. “But you’re alive. And you saved two others.”

She straightened and turned towards the curtains. “Professor Dumbledore has instructed us to treat this with the utmost discretion. The headmaster has made it clear that Mr. Lupin’s condition is to remain confidential.”

Remus gave a small nod of thanks.

“Get some rest,” she said kindly. “You’ve more than earned it.”

She left the two boys in silence.

Sirius looked at him with warm eyes. “I’m staying, by the way.”

Remus closed his eyes. “Good.”

The next few days passed in a blur of aching muscles and warm water-laced blankets. Sirius almost never left his side unless absolutely necessary. 

By Friday afternoon, word had spread that Remus was in the Hospital Wing recovering from “an accident by the lake,” though exactly what kind of accident was conveniently vague. Pomfrey kept most visitors out, but by the weekend, the first exceptions were made.

Lily came first, sweeping in with sweets and get-well-soon notes from Mary and Marlene. 

James arrived not long after, loud as always, but his volume softened once he drew back the curtains and saw the expression on Remus’s face. He pulled up a chair beside Remus, slung an arm around him, and told Remus flatly, “Don’t scare us like that again.”

Even Peter came on Saturday morning.

He didn’t stay long, his eyes flitting nervously around the curtained bed, avoiding the mound where Remus’s tail was tucked beneath shimmering blankets. But he sat, and he asked how Remus was feeling. It meant more than Remus expected.

Sunday was when the real surprise arrived.

Sirius was sitting in his usual chair by Remus’s side, balancing a Charms textbook in his lap and flipping through parchment covered in his neat handwriting. He’d taken it upon himself to make sure Remus didn’t fall behind in classes.

They were arguing gently over the Transfiguration essay, when the curtains shifted and a familiar voice said, “Um…hi.”

Remus’s head snapped up. 

Callum stood just inside the curtain gap, still in his weekend clothes and looking far more awkward than Remus had ever seen him. He shifted on his feet, one hand tucked into his pocket.

Remus blinked at him in disbelief.

Sirius sat very still.

Callum offered a weak smile. “I…was told I could visit?”

Remus snapped out of it. “Yeah, of course, Callum.”

Remus glanced over at Sirius, who hadn’t moved. 

“Sirius,” Remus finally said. “Can we have a moment?”

Sirius raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. He closed his textbook, stood, and, with a careful glance toward Remus, then Callum, slipped out of the curtain.

“He’s quite protective, isn’t he?” Callum said, gesturing to where Sirius’ retreating figure had just been.

Remus huffed a laugh, but winced at the slight tinge of pain that came from his tail as he tried to adjust his position. He suddenly felt much more exposed sitting there in front of Callum, even with the blankets covering him up to his chest.

Callum stood awkwardly for a moment before moving to the chair Sirius had just vacated “I, uh–” he started, then sighed. “I don’t really know what to say.”

Remus swallowed. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“No, I do,” Callum leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Thank you. For saving me and Elspeth.”

Remus looked down. “You don’t have to thank me. I couldn’t just leave you there.”

Callum looked down for a second, then lifted his eyes, his voice quieter. “I know you got hurt trying to save us. You were bleeding.”

Remus stiffened.

“I saw that…thing spear you.” He hesitated. “You still got us out, even injured.” His gaze flicked toward the foot of the bed, where just the tips of his fins peaked out from the blanket. “Your…tail– I mean, it was your tail that got hit, right?”

Remus nodded slowly.

Callum rubbed the back of his neck, clearly unsure of how much to say. “It just… I don’t know. It kind of hit me all at once, after. That you saved us, and you did it while…while bleeding, and still fighting that monster. It’s not something I’ll forget.”

Remus managed a small smile. “You’d have done the same.”

Callum let out a short laugh. “I’d have probably drowned halfway in. But thanks.”

A silence passed between them.

Then, Callum asked, tentatively, “Are you…okay, now?”

“I’m healing,” Remus replied. “Stuck like this while I am.”

Callum hesitated once again. “Can I…see it?”

Remus blinked. “My tail?”

“Yeah. I mean– you don’t have to. I just…”

“It’s fine,” Remus said. He shifted slightly, and pulled back the blanket to reveal the shimmering bronze scale, still dull with healing magic.

Callum’s eyes widened, taking it all in. His fins, his scales, his gills. “Wow.”

Remus chuckled. “You look like you have about a dozen questions.”

“More like a hundred. You’re a…”

“A merman,” Remus provided for him.

Callum took a deep breath, absorbing the word while still staring at Remus.

“Bloody hell,” he breathed out, rubbing a hand down his face. “I mean… no wonder you’re so good at Magical Creatures. Have a bit of an advantage over the rest of us, basically being part magical creature yourself. It’s… incredible, Remus. Truly.”

Remus felt a rush of blood to his cheeks. He pulled the blankets back up to his chest once more, and Callum turned his gaze to his face.

But Madam Pomfrey bustled into the area. 

“Time’s up, Mr. Fletcher,” she said firmly. “The boy needs to rest.”

“Right,” he said. “Sorry. Another time?”

Remus nodded. “Another time.”

As soon as Callum left, Sirius reappeared, reclaiming his seat with a frown. “He was here a while.”

Remus tilted his head at him. “You jealous?”

“Pfft. Me? No.” Clearly.

Remus grinned and leaned in closer to Sirius. “Come here.”

Sirius leaned in, and Remus grabbed his chin and pulled him in for a kiss. 

Sirius flushed to the tips of his ears. “You’re just trying to distract me.”

“Is it working?” Remus asked with a smile.

“Not at all,” Sirius replied, but he wrapped a hand to the back of Remus’ neck and pulled him in once more.

The days passed slowly in the Hospital Wing. The pain in his tail had dulled to a manageable throb, and his magic didn’t feel quite as raw anymore. 

James and Peter had both come to visit on Tuesday afternoon between classes, talking over each other as they told a ridiculous story about Slughorn nearly tripping over a student’s cauldron in class. Remus was only half-listening but it was comforting to have his friends there.

Sirius was sitting at the foot of the bed, idly twisting the edge of Remus’s enchanted blanket around his fingers, Remus’ tail extending out over the bedside in front of Sirius. 

Absent-mindedly, Sirius finger’s began to graze along the delicate edge of Remus’ fin where the thin membranes flared out from the fluke. He wasn’t even looking, fully engaged in James and Peter’s story. 

But Remus jolted slightly, breath catching in his throat. 

The touch was intense. It was light and unthinking, but electric. He froze, heart kicking up a beat, the sensation sending a pulse straight to his stomach so sharp it made his vision swim.

He stared at Sirius wide-eyed, but Sirius hadn’t noticed.

Sirius just kept talking to James and Peter, fingers lazily tracing patterns along the curve of the fin, not seeming to even realize he was doing it. Every soft drag of his touch made Remus’ skin buzz and his cheeks flush darker.

Remus tried not to squirm.

“ –and Slughorn didn’t even see the toadstool under his foot until it exploded, all over Mulciber!” James was saying with a laugh.

Sirius finally glanced down, realizing where his hand had wandered. His fingers stilled on his fin, and his eyes flicked up to Remus.

Remus was staring at him, breathing a little fast and his face a deep red.

Sirius blinked, then, very slowly, grinned.

He deliberately brushed a finger along the edge again, featherlight.

Remus jolted.

Sirius was smirking, watching him with narrowed eyes, glittering with mischief. He dragged a finger up and down the fin again, more slowly this time, and Remus swore he saw the bastard raise an eyebrow when Remus’s back arched slightly, involuntarily. Traitorously. 

“You okay, Moony?” James asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Fine,” Remus said quickly. He shot Sirius a murderous look. “Just…stiff.”

Peter, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice. James eyed Remus with mild suspicion but didn’t push.

Remus wanted to melt into the mattress and die. Or maybe just drown in the lake where his body couldn’t betray him quite so spectacularly. 

Sirius’ hand slipped farther under the blanket, fingers now splayed across the curve where fin faded into smooth, scaled skin. He toyed with the edge, idly, innocently even, like he didn’t realize that Remus was dying under his touch.

But he knew. Of course he did.

Every time Remus twitched or flinched, Sirius’s eyes sharpened, darkening like storm clouds. 

Sirius, still smirking, withdrew his hand and casually leaned back in his chair like nothing had happened. He got up to grab a new book from the table beside Remus’s head, leaning down, voice low enough that only Remus could hear while James chatted with Pete. 

“A bit sensitive, Moony?”

Remus’s mouth opened and closed. He glared at Sirius, mortified, his whole body buzzing. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Sirius asked, a voice of pure innocence. “I’m just trying to comfort my injured friend.”

“You’re a menace,” Remus hissed at him.

Sirius just gave him a wink and returned to his seat. His hands stayed out of the blankets, draping both hands in his lap, perfectly casual and smug.

Remus sat there blinking rapidly, heart pounding like it was trying to escape his ribs. He yanked at the blanket, shoving the edge of his tail more firmly beneath it, as if that could somehow contain the heat simmering under his skin.

“Anyway,” Sirius said aloud, turning back to James and Peter like nothing had happened. “What happened to Mulciber after the toadstool exploded?”

Remus barely registered the rest of the conversation. He was too busy trying not to combust. 

Later that evening, after Madam Pomfrey ushered James and Peter out with a stern, “He needs rest, not endless prattling about dungbombs,” Sirius had somehow managed to linger behind.

“I’m just…keeping him company while he’s in so much pain,” Sirius said, big eyes full of faux-earnestness. “You know how jumpy Moony gets when he’s left alone.”

Pomfrey rolled her eyes, but allowed it with a muttered, “Fifteen minutes, Mr. Black.”

Remus had barely managed to cool the lingering fire that throbbed beneath his skin from earlier. But as soon as Madam Pomfrey disappeared behind the curtain, leaving just the two boys, Sirius turned to him with that same glint from before. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“You looked a bit flushed earlier, mate,” he said lightly, dragging a chair over to Remus’s bedside and flopping into it. “Still feeling…twitchy?”

Remus stared at the ceiling. “Sirius. I swear on Merlin’s left–”

“I’m just concerned,” Sirius interrupted. “Don’t want you slipping into a magical fever. I’ve read about merfolk physiology, you know.”

Remus scoffed. “You read one chapter of that Waterborne Hexes book.”

“Yes, and in that one chapter, I learned that sensitive tail membranes can be early signs of an illness.” Sirius leaned forward, all mock seriousness. “May need to take a further look at that.”

“No,” Remus said flatly.

Sirius pouted. “You don’t even know what I was going to say!”

“Get out,” Remus said, but there was no bite in his voice.

But Sirius didn’t get out of course. Instead, he rested his chin on his folded arms on the edge of the bed and looked up at Remus with such exaggerated, false innocence that Remus couldn’t help the laugh that came out of his throat. 

“Just one question,” Sirius finally said, conspiratorially. “Purely academic.”

Remus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“That spot where the fin meets the rest of your tail,” Sirius said with a smirk. “Is that like…a merman’s neck equivalent? Or is more inner thigh, because you’re reaction was–”

Remus yanked a pillow and chucked it at Sirius’s face.

He caught it easily, laughing. “Inner thigh, got it.”

“Sirius.”

“Fine. No more questions. But, you know, if ever you need a tail massage to keep your…membranes from…atrophying?” Remus rolled his eyes. “I’m very selflessly available.”

“I will drown you.”

“An empty threat.” Sirius only grinned wider. “We both know you’d never.”

Remus didn’t answer. He was too busy gripping the sheets in both fists, tail twitching with the effort not to betray him again.

Then Sirius stood, walking to the end of the bed, fingers tailing over the edge of the mattress. 

“Just one little graze…”

“Sirius Black, I swear–”

But Sirius halted, his hand a breath away from touching him again. When Remus looked at Sirius’s face, he caught the flicker of something less smug now, more thoughtful. Curious.

Sirius glanced up. “You really didn’t like it? Or…did you?”

Remus swallowed hard. Every cell in his body screaming both God, yes and Don’t you dare.

He said nothing.

But Sirius removed his hand from the bed, letting his hand fall away without another word. His smirk returned. He knew.

“I’ll let you sleep,” he said, standing and stretching like nothing had happened. “But you might want to enlarge those blankets, Moony.”

Remus frowned. “Why?”

Sirius winked at him.

“To keep your tail from getting fondled by wandering hands.”

And then he was gone.

Remus exhaled so sharply he nearly choked on it. He dragged the pillow over his face.

He wasn’t going to survive sixth year.

Chapter Text

By Friday morning, Remus was going completely mad.

The pain in his tail was nearly gone, but yet it didn’t go away. Instead, a restlessness grew inside him, the claustrophobic need to move . He wanted to stretch, to walk, to swim even, just do something, anything that wasn’t lying in the Hospital Wing.

He’d long since given up trying to entertain himself. The books Sirius had brought lay untouched on the bedside table. He had convinced Sirius that he couldn't skip his classes just to hang around and do nothing. He protested, but Remus convinced him that the two of them could always be together afterwards to go over notes and gossip that he was forced to miss.

His fin flicked under the blanket, agitated. He was considering throwing himself off the bed and demanding to be discharged, tail and all, when the curtains around his bed shuffled, and Professor Dumbledore swept inside with a quiet, graceful purpose.

His blue robes shimmered faintly in the morning light coming in from the window behind Remus’s bed. He looked tired, as he often did, but his eyes twinkled behind his glasses as he approached Remus.

“Good morning, Mr. Lupin,” he said gently. “I hope Madam Pomfrey’s care has kept you as comfortable as possible?”

Remus straightened, tucking the blankets awkwardly around his tail. “As comfortable as a hospital bed can be, sir,” he said with a wry smile.

Dumbledore chuckled. “Yes, confinement rarely suits those with restless spirits.”

He took a seat in the cushioned armchair that Sirius could usually be found in and settled in, fingers steepled thoughtfully. “I won’t bother you for long. I imagine you’re already quite sick of answering questions, but I wanted to speak with you myself.”

Remus sobered. “Of course, sir.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Firstly, I want to thank you. Miss Selwyn and Mr. Fletcher have both recovered. Whatever else happened in the lake that day, you saved their lives.”

Remus looked down at his hands. 

Dumbledore’s voice softened. “Tell me what happened.”

Remus hesitated, and then took a deep breath. 

“I found them,” he began slowly, “Callum and Elspeth. They were alive, but caught, held in some sort of magical…dome.”

“The Vodyanoy?”

Remus nodded. “One of them appeared, and I tried to communicate with it. I didn’t want to fight it. I told it the lake would be fine. That whatever it thought was broken, it was healing. But it either didn’t understand or didn’t listen.”

Dumbledore’s brow furrowed.

Remus gripped the blanket tightly. “It attacked. No warning. I had to fight it off. I stabbed it eventually. I think it died.”

He looked down. “I didn’t want to. I just…Callum and Elspeth…I had to get them out. I used the creature’s spear.”

There was a long silence.

Dumbledore’s expression didn’t change. “You did what was necessary. I don’t doubt that.”

Remus exhaled slowly. “It is over?”

Dumbledore’s eyes slid back to the window. “Today is the first of October. The final day of the Echo Tides. The lake should begin to stabilize. Its magical balance should return, gradually.”

He turned back to Remus, more grave now. “But the fact that the Vodyanoy were awakened before their cycle is…concerning. They are not meant to stir for another century, at least.”

“Is that why they were violent?” Remus asked. “They were confused?”

“Perhaps.” Dumbledore tapped his fingers together. “They are usually peaceful. But if one has truly died…” He trailed off, then met Remus’s eyes. “You must be careful. Grief can twist even the gentlest creature into something dangerous. And the lake remembers its losses.”

Remus’ tail twitched beneath the blanket. 

“So it’s not over,” he said quietly.

Dumbledore didn’t answer immediately. “No,” he said at last. “Not completely. But I believe the worst of it has passed.”

Dumbledore hesitated a moment longer, then said, “I’ve also spoken with Miss Selwyn and Mr. Fletcher about the nature of what they saw – and about your secret. They understand the importance of discretion.”

Remus’ breath caught. “And…they agreed?”

Dumbledore nodded. “They’ve both promised to keep it in confidence. I believe they will honor that.”

A flicker of tension in Remus’s chest eased, just slight. He nodded, swallowing hard. “Thank you, sir.”

He rose, brushing invisible dust from his sleeves. “For now, rest. You’ve done more than anyone could have asked.”

Remus nodded, though the thought of resting even more made his skin crawl.

Just as Dumbledore reached the curtain, he paused and looked back. “And Remus. Thank you, again.”

Then he was gone.

The Hospital Wing was quiet that evening. James was at Quidditch practice, and Peter had apparently disappeared off with Ivy after dinner, but Lily and Sirius were curled up in the chairs by Remus’s bed, keeping him company. They were all laughing at something stupid Sirius had said about Professor Rivera’s collection of silk scarves that match the moon phases, and for the first time that week, Remus didn’t like crawling out of his skin.

“Honestly, when I was younger and less… experienced with all of this,” Remus said, “I would always check what scarf she was wearing at dinner every night to keep track of the moon cycle.” Lily chuckled. 

Remus’ head fell back against his pillow, a smile on his lips, listening to Sirius continue on about her latest addition of glowing moon shaped earrings with half a mind.

And then–

He sucked in a breath.

The pain came on fast. A sudden, deep twinge low in his spine, followed by a sharp twist that stole the air from his lungs.

His tail jerked violently under the blankets.

“Moony?” Sirius asked, suddenly alert.

Remus’s hands clenched into the sheets. His breathing turned quick and shallow. Another stab of pain tore through him, this time stronger, like something inside him was uncoiling far too fast. 

Lily sat forward, “Remus, what’s wrong?”

“I think…” he managed, voice tight. “It’s starting.”

Sirius’s eyes widened. “The change back?”

Remus nodded. “My tail– hurts.”

And then it really began.

The pain wasn’t sharp like an injury, like the spear cutting into the side of his tail. It was deeper, twisting, tugging, like muscles turning inside out. His tail writhed under the blanket as the transformation began in earnest. The fluke at the end twitched and spasmed, already beginning to retract, scales shifting with unnatural speed, color draining. The line of the transformation crawled up his tail toward his hips like fire.

Remus cried out before he could stop himself.

“Shit. Remus, ” Sirius dropped to his knees beside the bed, grabbing his hand.

“Should I get Madam Pomfrey?” Lily asked, half-risen from her chair, alarm flashing across her face.

“No,” Remus groaned out, squeezing his eyes shut. “No, she can’t– she can’t stop it. Just– let it happen.”

Sirius’s fingers closed tightly around his own. “You’re okay,” he murmured. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Remus curled forward as another wave hit, his spine arching, his skin slick with sweat. The pain radiated through every nerve ending. It was a full moon shift, but so much slower. More drawn out.

Sirius’s grip never wavered. He kept whispering, little things, soothing sounds: “Almost there, Moony, you’re doing fine, I’ve got you, it’s almost done, baby, I promise.”

Lily hadn’t sat back down. She hovered nearby, face pale. Her hands were fisted at her sides. “Do you need water? Anything?”

Remus shook his head. “No–” he gritted out. “Can’t– move–”

He bit down on a moan as the final wave surged through his legs, and then…

It was over.

He slumped back against the bed, panting. The sheets were damp with sweat. He couldn’t feel his legs yet, but he knew they were there. The blanket had shifted during the transformation, and a flash of pale scale-less skin peeked out from beneath. 

His tail was gone.

He was human again.

The room was silent except for his rapid breathing.

Sirius still had his hand, clutched so tightly in Remus’s white-knuckled grip.

Lily exhaled slowly, then crossed the space to pour a glass of water and set it on the bedside table. “I’ll let Pomfrey know it’s done,” she said gently. “She should check on you anyway. But I’ll… give you a minute.”

She glanced between the two of them, and then slipped out behind the curtain.

“Fuck, Remus,” Sirius finally said. 

Remus let out a breath that was almost a laugh, exhausted and shaky. “That was worse than I expected.”

Sirius finally sat back in the chair again, rubbing his thumb over the back of Remus’s hand. He looked a little pale himself. “You’re okay now.”

Moments later, the curtain whipped open again.

“Mr. Lupin!” Madam Pomfrey’s voice was brisk with alarm as she crossed the room in quick strides, wand in hand. “Miss Evans said your transformation came on suddenly?”

Remus pushed himself up onto his elbow. The blanket around his chest dropped to his waist, showing his bare gill-less ribs. Sirius stayed seated, tense, but his gaze had dropped down to Remus' waist.

“Yes,” Remus replied, a bit breathless. “The tail’s gone.”

Pomfrey didn’t hesitate. With a flick of her wand, the blankets lifted just enough for her to assess without uncovering him fully. She muttered a spell under her breath, then another. Pale blue ribbons of light scanned down his body from head to toes – toes – briefly hovering over his legs, his spine, his ribs.

“Merlin,” she murmured, her expression slightly amazed. “Everything is complete. Legs fully restored. Nervous system integration is showing stable patterns… Slight neutral inflammation around the lumbar vertebrae, but that’s to be expected…”

Remus winced as her wand hovered at his thigh and sent a faint pulse of sensation through him. “Do you feel that?” she asked.

“Yes,” he gasped. “All of it.”

“Good,” she said briskly. “That’s very good. Keep the blanket where it is. Modesty first.” She flicked her wand again, and a fresh hospital gown floated neatly from the cabinet into her hand. “Here. Let’s get you dressed properly.”

Sirius jumped to his feet and moved to the far end of the bed as Pomfrey and Lily turned their backs. Remus pulled the gown on with shaking hands, biting down the lingering ache in his muscles. His legs felt stiff and foreign. Human and real. But he noticed a small pink scar on his thigh, in the spot where the spear sliced through his tail.

Pomfrey turned back once he was settled.

“I’m going to keep you here overnight,” she said, firm but kind. “I want to monitor your vitals in case there are any delayed complications. Regrowing limbs isn’t a process we take lightly, magical or not.”

Remus nodded mutely.

“That said,” she continued, “you’re free to walk around the Hospital Wing if you feel up to it. In fact, I encourage it. Gently, mind. Don’t rush yourself too hard too fast. But it will help you reacclimate. I’ll get some new, dry blankets in the meantime.”

He hesitated, glancing now at his feet at the end of the bed. His legs were right there, but the idea of standing felt strange.

“Alright,” he said finally.

“I’ll be nearby,” Pomfrey said, softening. “Just call if you need anything.”

She nodded once more to the three students, then moved off toward her office at the far end of the ward.

Sirius stood beside him, eyes flicking from Remus’s face to his newly formed legs. 

“You wanna try?” Sirius asked gently, offering out a hand.

Remus nodded.

Lily exhaled a shaky breath and also stepped forward. “Do you want help standing?”

He hesitated, then gave a crooked smile. “Might need both of you, actually.”

That earned a soft laugh from Lily. Remus lifted himself, and lowered his legs to the side of the bed, so that his feet touched the cold floor of the Hospital Wing. Sirius remained on his right, and Lily moved over to his left, steadying him by the elbow, while Sirius reached around behind him to support his back.

Slowly, carefully, they lifted him upright. His legs bore his weight, but he felt shaky.

“You’re doing great,” Lily said gently. “Easy.”

Remus took a step. Then another. His knees threatened to give out, but the pain from the transformation was fading, replaced with a sense of…reunion. 

They guided him along the length of the Hospital Wing, slow and halting, until he made it to the far window. He was panting softly, but let out a breath of relief.

“I forgot how tall you were,” Sirius said, teasing. 

Remus turned his head, looking at both of his friends.

“Thanks,” he finally said. “For staying and helping.”

Lily smiled at him, “Of course we’d stay.”

Sirius, his hands placed firmly around his waist, smiled at him. “I’ve got you, Moony.”

Suddenly, the doors to the Hospital Wing opened, and James Potter, in Quidditch practice clothes, strutted in, coming to a quick halt. 

“Remus!” he announced with a grin. “Look at you back on two feet!”

James jogged the rest of the way over and clapped a hand to Remus’s shoulder before catching himself. “Sorry. Too soon for shoulder slapping?”

Remus managed a smile. “Little bit.”

“Still,” James said, grinning wide, “you look good. Like your old self again.”

Remus glanced down at his feet. At legs that still were a bit wobbly, but felt real beneath him. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Starting to feel that way, too.”

The next morning, sunlight spilled through the high windows of the Hospital Wing, warming the tile floors. Remus sat at the edge of his bed, carefully pulling on the clothes Sirius had brought him: a pair of soft grey trousers, and his worn jumper that suspiciously smelled like parchment and smoke.

He moved more easily today. His legs still ached faintly, but they held him steady now.

Pomfrey stood nearby, double-checking a clipboard floating at her side. “You’re free to go, Mr. Lupin,” she said kindly. “Vitals are strong, motor functions are returning beautifully. I’ll want to examine you again after the full moon, but otherwise, you’re cleared.”

Remus nodded gratefully.

She hesitated a beat longer. “I do have to remind you that the next full moon is this coming Friday. I don’t recommend swimming before then. Not until your system fully stabilizes.”

He didn’t protest. “I understand.”

Pomfrey gave a small, approving nod. “Good. And Remus…” she softened a bit, reaching out to gently squeeze his shoulder. “Well done, dear.”

He gave her a small smile, then stood, and exited the Hospital Wing. 

The castle corridors were still. He focused on each step, reacquainting himself with the rhythm of walking. By the time he reached the Gryffindor common room, the portrait of the Fat Lady gave a startled little gasp before smiling brightly and swinging open for him.

“Welcome back, dear,” she said warmly.

Remus climbed through and crossed to the dormitory stairs. Each step felt a little bit easier.

When he opened the door to the sixth-year boys’ room, the familiar creak of the hinges seemed louder than usual.

All three of his roommates were there; James and Peter were in the middle of a game of Gobstones, and Sirius was leaning back against the windowsill with a mug of tea in hand.

They all looked up.

Remus took a breath, standing just inside the threshold, and let a smile pull across his face.

“Morning,” he said simply.

James grinned. Peter gave a quiet nod. And Sirius. Sirius' eyes softened and smiled softly at him in a way that made Remus' heart jump in his chest.

And just like that, Remus stepped forward, crossing into the room that felt like home.

Chapter Text

The October leaves turned gold and red, drifting down in slow spirals across the castle grounds. The air sharpened in the mornings, turning brisk. Life inside the castle hummed with normalcy, and for the first time in a long time, Remus felt like he could take a deep breath.

His legs had returned, and while the lake still tugged at the edges of his mind, it wasn’t ruling him. The pull was manageable and quiet, as if whatever had been calling to him since the term started was dormant. And while Remus was relieved, he couldn’t help but feel that it was only temporary.

Madam Pomfrey had warned Remus not to swim again until the next full moon, only one week away, and to not put any unnecessary stress on his magic that was still healing inside him. But that didn’t stop Remus from drifting toward the shoreline most days, watching the wind skim over the surface.

Sirius kept him grounded. He didn’t hover, but he was always there, anchoring him back to the land. They were still figuring out what this was, the slow orbit they’d fallen into. They hadn’t told James or Peter. Not about the kisses exchanged beneath dormitory blankets or the quiet ways they reached for one another during long library evenings. Not about how Remus now often fell asleep in Sirius’ bed, warm hands resting on his waist. It was private and sacred.

One morning, just before breakfast, Remus spotted Elspeth Selwyn in the corridor. She was standing near a tapestry, waving brightly as he passed.

“Remus!” she called, weaving through the rush of students to catch up to him. 

He paused briefly. “Hi.”

“I’m Elspeth,”  she said cheerfully, extending a hand. “I know we haven’t technically met, but I feel like I already know you.”

Remus offered a wary smile, shaking her hand. She didn’t seem nervous. Just interested. “You’re feeling okay?”

“Brilliant, actually,” she beamed. “Being down in the lake wasn’t exactly a holiday, but it was an experience. It was just…fascinating!”

Her eyes sparkled, not with fear or awkwardness, but genuine awe.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” she added more softly. “For saving me. I know it wasn’t easy.”

Remus ducked his head. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you’re alright.”

She reached out impulsively and gave his arm a quick, sincere squeeze. “It’s kind of amazing, Remus.”

He smiled, something easing in his chest.

“Oh!” she called as she turned back toward the Great Hall. “And, don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

She giggled before disappearing into the crowd.

The full moon arrived on the eighth of October. The air was crisp and the night was quiet. Remus felt the pull of the moon back in his bones, beckoning him to the water.

James and Sirius moved through the castle and across the grounds with practiced ease, guiding Remus down to the lake and toward the hidden cave like it was second nature. But this time, for the first time, Peter followed.

He was quiet on the walk, unusually so. His cloak was pulled tightly around his shoulders, and he kept fiddling with the strap of his satchel, adjusting it even though it didn’t need adjusting. He didn’t joke or whine like he usually did. But he didn’t turn back.

Remus kept glancing at him from the corner of his eye, but Peter never met his gaze. His jaw was set, his eyes fixed ahead.

Once they reached the cave, Remus kicked off his shoes and quickly stripped down to his briefs. The others turned their backs, giving him privacy, but there was no awkwardness in it anymore, just understanding. Sirius held an arm out with the enchanted cloak, a small smirk visible from the side of his face.

Then Remus stepped into the freezing water.

The transformation hit hard and painful, as it always did during a full moon. His bones cracked and stretched, the burn of magic writhing through his limbs as they reshaped. His chest ached sharply as lungs collapsed and gills flared open along his ribs. His legs fused and shimmered, tail unfurling beneath the surface of the water.

When he rose again, dripping with magic and lakewater, Peter was staring at him.

His face had gone pale, mouth slightly open. He didn’t speak for a long moment, just stood there, unmoving, eyes locked on Remus like he wasn’t quite sure he could believe what he was seeing.

Then, very softly, he whispered, “Bloody hell.”

Remus half-laughed, trying to lighten the weight of the moment. “That bad?”

“No,” Peter said quickly. “No, it’s just… real. Seeing you like this.”

James clapped him on the shoulder. “Told you he wasn’t dangerous.”

Peter let out a shaky breath. “Didn’t think he was.”

Sirius leaned against the cave wall, arms crossed, watching the exchange with a quiet smirk that didn’t quite hide the tension in his shoulders.

“Good,” Remus said, flicking his tail through the water in a slow arc. 

The rest of the night unfolded in an easy rhythm. James conjured some floating lanterns that cast warm golden light around the cave. They broke out the chocolate, the deck of Exploding Snap cards, and a small blanket that Sirius had charmed to repel the damp. James and Sirius, predictably, got it into their heads to brave the freezing pool. Lasted all of twenty seconds before Sirius yelped and swore profusely, and James declared he couldn’t feel his knees. They scrambled back to the rocks, defeated and dripping, while Remus tried not to look too smug.

Peter didn’t speak much, but he didn’t leave either. He sat on the ledge of the rocks, legs dangling, eyes watching Remus with a strange sort of fascination. Not fear or revulsion, just curiosity, like he was trying to reconcile the image of his friend with the shimmering creature before him.

At some point, Remus swam close and rested his arms on the edge beside Peter’s shoes.

“Alright?” he asked softly.

Peter looked down at him. After a beat, he nodded. “Yeah. I think I am.”

They didn’t say much else after that. Eventually, they all fell into a deep sleep. But when the sun finally rose and the magic in Remus began to recede, Peter didn’t flinch when Remus pulled himself, exhausted and dripping, onto the rock. He even helped hand him a towel.

And in Peter’s face, Remus saw something shift. As if he was letting go of fear, and held some kind of quiet acceptance. 

Later that week, Remus ran into Callum Fletcher outside the Care of Magical Creatures paddock, just as a wooden crate burst open at Callum’s feet.

“Bloody hell!” Callum exclaimed, stumbling backward as Fire Crabs skittered out in all directions, leaving scorched trails across the grass.

Remus lunged to help without thinking, grabbing a nearby bucket and budging the crabs back inside with his boot. “Careful, they’ll eat your shoelaces.”

After they locked the last of the crabs back into the box with soft clang, Callum breathlessly brushed his sandy hair from his face. “Thanks, I owe you one.”

“Happy to help,” Remus replied. 

“Right,” Callum said, suddenly turning serious. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, actually. About…well. You.”

Remus blinked. “Oh.”

“I haven’t told anyone,” Callum rushed to add, his voice lower, eyes wide. “I swear, I just– I have so many questions, Remus.”

Remus sighed, shoulders relaxing. “I’d be more surprised if you didn’t.”

“Do you have time? Are you free for a bit?”

Remus nodded, and the two slipped away from the main paddock trail, following Callum’s lead.

“Interested in heading to the greenhouses? I know they’re usually deserted around this time, and truthfully, I could use a spliff.” 

“Honestly,” Remus said, a smile curling at the corner of his lips. “I think I could, too.”

Once they got to the greenhouses, they sat in silence for a few moments as Callum brought a joint up to his lips, lit it, and inhaled deeply. He leaned his head back against the glass wall and closed his eyes as he let the smoke work its way into his system, before passing it over to Remus. “I don’t even know where to begin. I just… you’re something magical , Remus. And I’ve been reading anything I can find. Old Care of Magical Creatures textbooks, journals, even this half-crumbling book I found in the Restricted Section.”

Remus arched a brow.

“Only by accident,” Callum swore. “But the point is…none of it makes sense. Nothing fits. There’s no entry on human-merperson hybrids. And I mean…how does it work? Is it genetic? Do your legs have scales when you aren’t transformed? Does the tail just cover your legs when you’re in the water? Or is it its own structure? Do you transform any time you touch water? What triggers it–”

Remus started laughing. “Callum, breathe .”

Callum flushed, but grinned. “Right. Sorry. You’re like walking proof of some unknown, unclassified hybrid aquatic species. It’s just…fascinating.”

“You sound like Elspeth,” Remus said, shaking his head fondly.

“Yeah, well… she’s a bright witch. She came up to me last week and said – and I quote – ‘Remus has the prettiest tail I’ve ever seen,’ like it was the most casual thing in the world.”

Remus flushed, ears turning red. “She did not. ”

“Oh, she did,” Callum laughed, nudging him gently with an elbow. “She might have a crush.”

“Merlin,” Remus muttered, pressing a hand over his face.

“But,” Callum continued, voice softening, “she seems trustworthy. I wouldn’t worry about her telling anyone about you. Honestly, she talks about you like you’re a legend.”

Remus lowered his hand, face only slightly pink but he was smiling now. “She’s been through a lot. I’m glad she’s alright.”

“Do the questions bother you?” Callum asked, more cautiously now. “I’m just…trying to understand.”

Remus glanced over at him, struck again by how sincere Callum was. Not prying or pushing, just curious. “I don’t mind,” he said quietly. “I’d rather you ask than assume.”

Callum nodded, clearly relieved. He took another deep inhale of the joint, letting his nerves calm. “Who else knows?”

“You and Elspeth, of course,” Remus said. “Dumbledore, McGonagall, Pomfrey. Lily.”

“I’m assuming Black knows since he was in the Hospital Wing,” Callum interrupted.

“Yeah, he found out last year. All of my roommates did.”

“Only last year?” Callum asked, surprised. “When did you become a…” he gestured his hand towards Remus’ legs.

“A merman?” Remus offered. 

Callum nodded. “Sorry, just…feels weird to say.”

“It happened when I was five. Don’t exactly know how or why, I just know it’s related to the moon cycle. I’m forced to change every full moon, otherwise I can come and go as I please.”

“So…” Callum continued, with a look of concentration on his face, as the gears in his brain were working to put things together behind the haze of the smoke. “You’ve had to keep this secret from literally everyone, including your own dorm mates, for five years before anyone found out?”

“Basically,” Remus said, nodding now as his own brain began to feel calm and a bit hazy. He was now resting his head against the wall of the greenhouse, enjoying Callum’s company, enjoying the cool air, enjoying everything really now that the weed was working. “They started getting pretty suspicious after five years of disappearing every full moon. Thought I was a werewolf for a bit. Lily figured it out third year, the brilliant witch that she is.”

“You and Lily…” Callum spoke slowly now, treading carefully. “You seem close. Are you… together?”

This question caught Remus completely off guard that he actually burst out laughing. “Merlin, no. Lily is one of my closest friends, we’ve never… I think James would actually try to drown me if I even tried.”

“I thought she didn’t care for Potter,” Callum said, looking at Remus with clear confusion.

“Yeah, well,” Remus replied, “try telling James that.”

They both chuckled then, the effect of the shared joint hitting them both. 

“Anyone else that you fancy?” Callum asked. His voice had quieted, as if he were nervous about asking. 

But just closed his eyes and took a long breath. His mind, of course, went immediately to Sirius. His grin. His hair. His eyes. His wrists, so dwarfed in Remus’ hands. He swallowed tightly, reaching out a hand for another drag of the joint.

“I don’t know,” he said untruthfully before bringing it to his lips. He glanced over at Callum then, whose eyes were on Remus’ mouth around the shared spliff. 

Callum averted his gaze quickly when he realized Remus was looking at him again. 

“There’s someone,” Remus admitted. “But things are…complicated.” While Sirius and Remus were no longer dancing around each other and jumped into each other’s arms any chance that they were alone, he still wasn’t entirely sure what that made their relationship. They hadn’t defined anything between them, but Remus knew that neither of them believed that they were “just friends.” Saying that Remus “fancied” Sirius seemed too casual for his feelings for the boy.

“Well,” Callum said, “whoever she is, she should know that you’re a catch. She’d be an idiot to not be interested.”

Remus couldn’t help the humorless laugh. As if anything were that simple for him. 

“Yeah, well. The whole fishy secret makes everything more complicated. Can’t go around telling just anyone about it, but also can’t let anyone too close if they do know. Too dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” Callum asked, brows furrowing. “How so?”

“Look at what happened with you and Elspeth,” Remus explained.

“Yeah,” Callum continued, still clearly confused. “But that didn’t have anything to do with you. You were the one to save us.”

Remus stayed silent, then. Flashes of that day in May came flooding to the front of his mind. Vines reaching for him, the feeling of being bound, unable to speak, seeing Sirius swimming towards him, the crack in his Bubble Head Charm, feeling his body go limp in his arms. Stay with me, baby.  

Then, more recently, the sight of him trapped in the cave while he was helplessly stuck with his tail, unable to free Sirius from his spell. The red marks on his wrists from where he had struggled against the cords of magic. Hurt, even when Remus was trying to keep him safe.

“People have gotten hurt,” he finally said quietly. “Because of me and because of what I am.”

Callum studied him for a moment, his usual easygoing expression sobering. “People get hurt all the time, Remus. Doesn’t mean it’s your fault.”

Remus didn’t answer right away. He was staring out at the greenhouse glass, where condensation trickled down in thin lines, catching the late afternoon sun. His voice was almost too quiet to hear. “It feels like it is.”

Callum exhaled slowly. “I don’t know what it’s like, what you go through. But I do know what it’s like to carry something that makes you feel different. Wrong.” He looked down at his hands, then back up to Remus. “But that’s not what you are. You’re not wrong, Remus. You’re just…more.”

Remus blinked. Something about the way Callum said it reminded him of the similar words that Remus had said to Sirius last term about his parents. It made something loosen a bit in his chest.

“I think you’re kind of brilliant,” Callum added. “And not just because you happen to be a magical sea creature. But you’re smart, and insanely brave, and–” He stopped himself, shook his head, and laughed under his breath. “Sorry, I’m not trying to make this weird.”

“It’s not weird,” Remus said, and he meant it.

Their eyes met again, quiet understanding passing between them.

“Thanks. For not freaking out,” Remus finally said, nudging Callum’s shoulder gently with his own.

“Thanks for trusting me,” Callum said with a soft smile. 

They sat like that for a while longer, the joint mostly burned out between them, the warm scent of herbs and smoke curling in the air around them. Outside the glass, the sun was beginning to dip behind the trees, casting golden light across the lawn. 

And maybe it was just the spliff working its way through his system, but for a moment, Remus felt lighter.

Chapter Text

The third of November brought a chill wind and low grey clouds, but the cavern beyond the woods looked nothing like November at all.

Sirius followed Remus along the familiar tunnel to the cave, the air sharp in his lungs, his scarf trailing behind him. Sirius hadn’t asked Remus where they were going. Remus had only told him that he had a surprise . But now, as they ducked into the dark mouth of the cave, Remus’s heart began to race with excited anticipation.

“You’re not going to drown me for my birthday, are you?” Sirius asked.

Remus huffed a quiet laugh. “Not unless you really hate the present.”

They stepped inside, and Sirius stopped.

The cavern pool glittered with hundreds of floating lights, glowing softly in hues of deep silver, maroons, bronze, and blues. They hung midair like stars, reflected in the calm water below. The whole space pulsed with a gentle, magical warmth. The stone wall glimmered faintly with soft enchantments, and the surface of the water looked glassy and inviting.

“Merlin,” Sirius breathed.

Remus smiled, then reached into his satchel and pulled out the enchanted cloak, the one Sirius had first given him. Sirius looked up at him in confusion.

“You’ll need it tonight more than me,” Remus said with a small grin.

Sirius kept his gaze locked on his face, understanding starting to dawn on him. “You’re really doing all this for me?”

Remus nodded. “Seventeen’s a big deal.”

Remus began toeing off his shoes, gesturing for Sirius to join him. Sirius quickly removed his shirt, until the two boys were standing in nothing but their briefs. Remus eventually removed his and quickly dove into the water. His transformation was nearly instant, and his bronze scales glittered in various colors from the twinkling lights above. Sirius was still standing, just watching as he moved with effortless grace, circling around the pool.

“You coming?” Remus finally asked.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “You want me in there?”

“I want to show you something,” Remus replied with a secret smile. “But only if you trust me.”

Remus couldn’t deny that a part of him was nervous. He was unsure about what he had planned for Sirius’ birthday. He wasn’t worried about whether Sirius would enjoy it. Of that, he was almost certain that he would. But Remus hadn’t willingly gone out into the depths of the lake since the previous term. As excited as he was, he was nervous about keeping Sirius safe.

But Remus knew that if Sirius didn’t want to do this, if he was too nervous for himself, he would say so. Remus had to trust him. 

Sirius didn’t wait any longer. He clasped the enchanted cloak around his shoulders, and jumped in, creating a huge splash. 

“You have your wand?” Remus asked. Sirius nodded, showing him. “Good, keep it on you, just in case.” Remus swam closer to Sirius now. “Remember, with the Bubble-Head Charm, I won’t be able to hear you. You should still hear me, but if you need anything, if you feel like the charm is failing, squeeze my shoulder. Okay?”

“Got it,” Sirius said, a grin slowly spreading on his lips as he realized what was happening.

Remus nodded at him. “Go ahead.”

Sirius quickly drew his wand back out again, flicking it quickly and the shimmering dome appeared around Sirius’s head, sealing around his neck. He looked back at Remus, touching the edge of the charm before giving him a thumbs-up.

With a quick movement, Remus surged forward and grabbed Sirius’s arms, guiding them up and around his neck. Remus’ own arms circled Sirius’ waist, and he pulled him close, locking them together. 

And then – they dove.

The water embraced them instantly. The lights of the cave swirled and vanished as they slipped deeper in the cold clarity of the Black Lake. Sirius’ grip tightened just a little at first. Remus glanced down at him and caught the expression on his face – eyes wide, hair fanned out like black ink in the water, mouth stretched in a grin so bright it lit something in Remus’s chest.

Sirius was laughing.

Remus couldn’t hear it, not through the bubble, but he felt it. The vibration of it ran through Sirius’s chest, through his arms. It was unmistakable. That spark, that wonder, that giddy, irrepressible joy.

He turned his head more fully to watch as Sirius pointed at the schools of fish darting past, at the strange, glowing fronds of lakeweed that undulated like dancers. Even the lakebed, dark and uneven, dropped away below them into a shadow so deep it might have been the edge of the world. 

It was dizzying and beautiful. The lake, usually so cold and bleak, felt transformed. It was no longer just a place of survival, but one of wonder. It hummed around him, and Remus swore he could feel that hum in his very bones. 

And Sirius…

He looked like he belonged here. His hair, loose and wild in the water, drifted around his face like ink. His eyes were wide, bright behind the bubble of magic, darting from detail to detail with the curiosity of someone seeing color for the first time.

Remus could only watch him, awe blooming in his chest in a way that nearly hurt. 

Then he felt a tap on his shoulder, and Sirius was looking at him, pointing upward. His lips moved behind the charm. Let’s go up.

“To the surface?” he asked, and Sirius nodded.

Remus angled his body, kicking powerfully toward the faint moonlight that filtered down from above. 

They breached the surface together in the center of the lake, the chill of November air hitting their skin like a shock. Their heads broke through the stillwater with a rush of sound, the quiet of the deep replaced by the rustling of trees on the distant shoreline.

Sirius raised his wand and with a flick, the bubble burst. He took in a huge breath, chest heaving, laughter spilling out of him with exhilaration. 

“That’s… brilliant ,” he gasped. His face was slick with water, cheeks flushed from the cold, eyes still wide with wonder. “Fucking hell , Remus. That’s–”

But he didn’t finish the sentence. He surged forward and kissed him.

It was fierce, immediate, and absolutely without hesitation. Remus caught him instinctively, strong arms around his waist, holding them both afloat as Sirius’ mouth crashed into his. The lake rocked gently around them, cool ripples lapping at their shoulders, and Remus didn’t care. Sirius’ hand found his hair, his neck, pulling him closer as if to make sure he was real. Water slicked between them, their kiss tasting faintly of magic and the lake. 

When they finally parted, Sirius kept his forehead pressed to Remus’, their noses brushing. His breath came in short, delighted bursts. Water clung to his lashes and glimmered on his lips, and he looked so alive that Remus didn’t dare blink.

“Happy birthday, Sirius,” Remus whispered, a smile tugging at his mouth. His voice was soft and reverent. “Shall we go again?”

Sirius’s eyes sparkled.

“Hell yes.”

He pulled his wand again, a quick flick of his wrist and the Bubble-Head Charm shimmered back in place. Remus could see him mouthing something through the charm – Ready when you are.

Remus gave one graceful flick of his tail and then dove, Sirius held against him, the two of them vanishing once again beneath the surface. 

They passed the great green vines that had once held Remus under. Remus didn’t flinch, not this time. But he noticed Sirius raise two fingers as they swam by, and a short laugh followed. Remus shook his head, smiling, and pushed them harder, faster, darting beneath arches of stone, spiraling up toward distant shafts of light.

He knew Sirius had mastered the charm. Knew it was secure. But still, every few minutes, Remus glanced at the seals to check. Just in case.

There was never a problem.

So he swam faster. Took them deeper. Twisting through long corridors of ancient rock, chasing the glint of silver-backed fish, dragging them both down into the silent trenches before bursting upward again in dizzying loops. 

They swam in corkscrews and danced like comets. Remus took them through caverns of black coral that pulsed as they passed. They shot between jagged cliffs where water pressure deepened just a bit, where ancient runes shimmered carved into stone. At one point, the giant squid flicked lazily in the distance, one massive eye tracking their motion before lazily swimming on. Sirius waved at it.

Then, just ahead, the water darkened.

Remus slowed.

“Sirius,” he said, his voice carrying its musical lilt.  “Look.”

And there, floating in the half-light of the deep trench, were others .

Merfolk. Not like Remus. These were the true lake dwellers. Thin and long-limbed, with grey skin and kelp-like hair that streamed behind them. Their eyes were pale and ancient, slowing slightly in the dark. They watched silently from a distance, tridents strapped across their backs. 

Sirius’ arm tightened slightly, but watched the creatures curiously.

One of the merfolk nodded to them, solemn but not unfriendly.

Remus couldn’t help it – he laughed, sudden and clear. Sirius looked at him with that familiar spark, the one that made Remus’s chest hurt in the best way.

He reached out, brushing his hand against Sirius’s cheek, the bubble smooth and solid beneath his palm.

Sirius grinned wide.

Then mouthed: Again?

Remus nodded. “Again.”

They dove once more, disappearing into the shadows, trailing bubbles and laughter, Remus’s tail a bronze comet behind them.

They had just risen from the depths of a trench, streaking upward when Remus slowed once more. His arm tightened protectively around Sirius’s waist, bringing them to a careful drift.

Sirius tilted his head, confused, until Remus pointed.

“Over there,” he said, voice quiet. “The Vodyanoy.”

Far off in the murk, half-hidden behind a jagged wall of rock, dark silhouettes moved, humanoid, gliding like shadows through the coldest layer of the lake. Even at a distance, they were unmistakable. Long limbs, blurred faces, dark eyes. They didn’t move like the merfolk, or the squid. They moved like things that belonged in the deep. Watchers. Protectors.

Remus’s pulse spiked, but he didn’t panic. He just kept Sirius close, fingers firm around his waist, and slowly turned them both in a new direction. No sharp movement. No disturbance. Just a quiet retreat. The creatures didn’t follow, but continued to watch. Sirius glanced back once, his brow furrowing behind the bubble charm. Remus squeezed his hand on his waist, and shot him a tight smile. “I’m not letting them ruin this.”

And Sirius, trusting Remus completely, let it go. 

For the first time in weeks, maybe months, Remus didn’t feel afraid of the lake.

He loved it.

Because Sirius was here with him.

They swam back toward the cave. The lights from Remus’s spellwork still twinkled across the ceiling and walls in soft threads, like stars caught underwater. The surface shimmered above them, glowing with warm reflections.

Remus was the first to surface, breaking through with a soft gasp. The air of the cave felt warm after the lake’s icy stillness. He pushed back his wet hair and began to swim toward the edge, tail propelling him with practiced ease. One hand reached for the rock lip to haul himself out–

But strong hands wrapped suddenly around his waist.

Remus let out a surprised breath as he was yanked back into the water with a splash.

Sirius caught him before he could speak, crashing their mouths together in a kiss that was wet and messy and filled with adrenaline and delight. Remus’ arms wrapped around him, laughing against Sirius’ lips.

“Thank you,” Sirius breathed, trailing kisses down Remus’s jaw, voice husky and wrecked with joy. “Best birthday ever. Incredible. Fucking brilliant.”
Remus kissed him again, and again. He couldn’t stop. Sirius was vibrating, practically glowing, water dripping from his hair, cheeks flushed with cold and wonder and affection.

They clung to each other in the middle of the cave pool, mouths barely parting for breath.

Remus’s whole body shivered as Sirius’ bare foot slid deliberately along the length of his tail, trailing inward, caressing right against that spot above his fin.

Remus paused, eyes opened.

Sirius was already looking at him, half-grinning, but dark, purposeful. Sirius’ foot gently traced against his tail like a challenge. 

Remus’ eyes darkened. He tilted his head just slightly.

Sirius slid his hands around Remus’s waist now, and let his palms move slowly over the smooth surface of his skin until he reached the beginning of his scales. Where the line of transformation began.

“God, your waist–” Sirius groaned. 

Remus let out a sound, low and startled, trembling against Sirius’s mouth. And then he was kissing him again, hard , desperate. Remus’ lips moved down, finding the hollow beneath Sirius’ jaw. 

He kissed there once reverently.

Then again, open-mouthed, letting his tongue graze skin.

Sirius gasped.

His fingers tightened against Remus’ waist, digging in as he shuddered. “Fuck,” he whispered, breath hitching.

Remus didn’t stop. His mouth trailed along Sirius’ neck, finding that spot just under his ear. He kissed there, lips soft and warm against chilled skin, then bit down lightly.

Sirius bucked forward, hands dragging along Remus’ spine now, one finding the back of his neck, pulling him closer now, like he couldn’t get enough.

“You–” Sirius tried to say, but whatever it was, it died in his throat when Remus’s hands slid down his back, one palm curving possessively over his hip.

Remus’ tail coiled around Sirius’ legs underwater, tight and possessive. Gentle, but inescapable. His strength was obvious, but the way he held Sirius was careful. Worshipful.

“Happy birthday,” Remus murmured again, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

Sirius let out a soft, wrecked sound, burying his face in Remus’ neck as he laughed and groaned all at once.

“I’m never topping this,” Sirius mumbled against Remus’s skin. “You’ve ruined every future birthday forever.”

Remus chuckled, breath hot. “Good.”

Slowly, Remus shifted. He turned Sirius gently in the water, guiding him until his back pressed against the smooth rock wall of the pool. Sirius blinked at him, confused as Remus took both of Sirius’ hands and placed them firmly against the lip of the pool behind his head.

“Hold on,” Remus said, barely above a whisper. 

Sirius looked at him questioningly. 

Remus’ heart was loud in his ears. Fear stirred somewhere deep. Fear of what this meant, of things changing, but his hands didn’t shake. He leaned forward, kissed him once more, slow and certain.

And then slipped beneath the surface.

The water closed over his ears, muffling everything above. He trailed one hand down Sirius’ side, following the curve of his slim waist, until his fingers brushed the top edge of fabric. 

Sirius gasped above him. Remus heard it, even underwater, felt the vibration of it through the still surface. Watched as Sirius’ muscles in his abdomen contracted. 

He let his lips ghost against Sirius’s stomach, and closed his eyes before sinking lower.

Tonight, he would give him this.

A birthday Sirius would never forget. 

Chapter Text

Remus was warm.

That was the first thing he noticed. Not the chill of the lake, not the biting wind outside the castle. Just warmth. Cradling him like sunlight through glass, filtered, golden, familiar. Safe.

And then the water came.

He didn’t know how it had come, only that he was in it, and that it was dark, but not cold. The moonlight reached down through the rippling surface, and everything swayed in time with the pulse of some old, quiet current. The water held him like a memory.

He could feel eyes watching. Not menacing, but not kind. 

Far below, something shifted in the silt. 

A shape. Small, curled. Sleeping

No. Not sleeping.

Listening.

Remus tried to move forward, but his body didn’t respond the way it usually did. He wasn’t himself. Not fully. He felt heavy and old and vast. His heartbeat was not a heartbeat at all, but a pulse that hummed through the current like a drum beat underwater.

And the girl – the mermaid – stirred.

She had hair the color of night, drifting behind her like seaweed. Her skin was pale, her face soft with bright blue eyes, almost gray. So human. Her tail shimmered silver-green, long and powerful. The scales ran high, curling around his ribs in overlapping spirals, and her gills flared gently at the sides of his ribs. She looked like Remus. Not in the face, but in form. In the kind of creature she was.

The feeling that washed over Remus was not his own. It was not affection. It was not fear.

It was hunger.

It was need.

The need for something missing. For balance. For restoration.

The mermaid opened her eyes.

Remus, or whoever he was, drifted closer. The current pulled him along, slow and inevitable. In his hands, he held a small knot of lakeweed, woven with care. It pulsed faintly with magic. 

The girl hovered, watching. Her dark hair swayed around her. She didn’t reach for the lakeweed right away, but she didn’t flee either.

The offering wasn’t a command. It was a question or a promise. An unspoken invitation: You won’t be alone here. You could help. You could belong.

At last, she took it.

She didn’t speak, but something flickered in her eyes, recognition and interest. 

Her voice came like a ripple in the deep:

“Maybe.”

And in the dream, Remus, or whoever he was, did not answer.

He didn’t need to.

She would return.

She would come back again and again, until she no longer remembered what the sky felt like.

He woke all at once.

His breath caught in his throat, as though he’d surfaced from the deep water too fast. Blankets tangled around his legs. The fire in the dorm had burned low, casting shadows that flickered across the stone walls. The curtains across his bed were half open, letting in a draft of November chill that bit at his damp skin. 

But he was sweating. His skin prickled, damp and strange.

His nightshirt clung to his chest, and his limbs felt foreign, half-buoyant with the echo of water that wasn’t there. There was a taste on his tongue, briny and strange. Like the lake.

Sirius stirred beside him, arm draped across Remus’s chest, his breathing slow and gentle. His hand flexed lightly in sleep, like he was dreaming, too, though Remus doubted it was the same.

Remus didn’t move at first. Just stared up at the canopy above them, heart hammering in a rhythm he couldn’t calm.

The dream was already unraveling. Details slipped between his fingers, but some things lingered:

A shimmer of sea-glass scales.

The pull of the current.

Eyes – ancient and watching.

And her name.

He didn’t know how he knew it. It hadn’t been spoken.

But it had settled into his mind like a memory he’d never made.

“Lira,” he whispered, barely audible.

The name held a weight to it, like a prophecy. Like an answer to a question that he didn’t know to ask.

Sirius shifted again, mumbling something incoherent, his forehead pressing gently against Remus’ shoulder. But he didn’t wake.

Remus exhaled, slow and careful, and then reached out to tug the bed curtains fully closed around them. The dorm beyond was still, the faint snore of one of their roommates, likely James, muffled by thick velvet.

He let himself fall back against the pillow. The silence was oppressive now, filled with the hush of phantom water, with the memory of movement that hadn’t been his.

He scrubbed a sleeve across his damp forehead, then dragged it down over his face. His skin felt tight, prickling. Like he hadn’t fully left the dream behind.

He closed his eyes again, not expecting to sleep.

But he did. 

And the water was waiting.

The Common Room was buzzing on Saturday morning. James, Peter, and Sirius were huddled around the map, quills scratching, parchment crinkling beneath their elbows. Sirius looked gleeful, James, like a boy possessed.

“I’m telling you, if we time it right,” James said, tapping the corner of the map with far too much enthusiasm, “Filch won’t notice a thing until after it’s already raining Canary Creams in the dungeons.”

Peter frowned. “But how do we get the creams into Slughorn’s storage cupboard without–?”

“Leave that to me,” Sirius interrupted, grinning like a cat.

Across from them, Remus stifled a yawn so wide it made his eyes water.

Lily looked up from where she was annotating her Potions notes. Her brow furrows. “You alright, Remus? You look like you’ve been hexed or something.”

“Didn’t sleep much,” Remus mumbled, running a hand over his face. “Long night.”

That was an understatement.

He felt it in his bones, like something ancient was trying to crawl inside him and stay there. Like the lake had wrapped around his thoughts and hadn’t let go.

Lily gave him a look. “Are you feeling ill? You’re clammy.”

“No, I’m fine. Just tired.” He offered her a wan smile, then leaned back in his chair, blinking blearily at the ceiling.

She didn’t press him, but her eyes lingered a second longer than necessary before she turned back to her notes.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of dragging feet and half-retained information. Remus yawned through Transfiguration and nearly nodded off during Ancient Runes. It wasn’t until their last class, Care of Magical Creatures, that he realized what he was doing.

He was drawing.

Remus stared down at the corner of his notes, blinking. His quill had moved without him thinking, lines blooming across the parchment in soft arcs and scale-like patterns. A mermaid tail. Long, elegant, and familiar.

But not his .

This one was slimmer and paler with wide, curling fins.

Lira.

His fingers froze on the parchment. The name echoed through him like a ripple, though no one had said it. 

He stared at the drawing, heart thudding, until a shadow passed over his shoulder. 

“Are you drawing your own arse?” Sirius’ voice was low and teasing in his ear. “That tail’s a bit dramatic, even for you.”

Remus quickly flipped the page, his ears flushing. “Shut up. I was doodling.”

Sirius gave him a look. “Since when do you doodle ?”

“Since now.” Remus forced a small smile and nodded toward the front. “Pay attention.”

Sirius smirked, but gave a mock-salute and returned his attention to the lecture. 

Remus exhaled slowly and rubbed the heel of his palm against his eyes.

On his way out of class, he nearly ran straight into Callum Fletcher.

“Oh– hi!” Callum said brightly, steading Remus by the arms. “Wasn’t looking where I was going, sorry. Long day?”

“Something like that,” Remus said, already forcing a smile.

Callum tilted his head. “Well, for what it’s worth, you are looking much less pale than you did a few weeks ago. Recovery going well?”

“Yeah. Fine.” Remus appreciated the honesty in Callum’s tone. Just an easy friendliness. “I’ve been cleared by Pomfrey to swim again, so that’s been a relief.”

Callum nodded, his face lighting up. “That’s brilliant. I’ve read about how aquatic creatures tend to recover better when reintroduced to water. Makes sense, doesn’t it? Healing in your element.”

Remus nodded faintly, the ghost of a grin tugging at his lips. “I suppose.”

Callum tucked his parchment under one arm, nearly working to keep his enthusiasm in check. “I know I said this before, but I’d really love to ask you more about it sometime. If that’s alright with you of course. I just can’t help but wonder about things. Like gills. Are they sensitive to water temperature? And when do you stop breathing through your lungs and switch to gills?”

Remus snorted despite himself. “You sound like you’re planning to write a thesis.”

“I mean, if Professor Kettleburn offered a NEWT seminar on mer-creature physiology, I’d sign up in a heartbeat.”

Remus raised a brow. “You realize I’m not exactly volunteering for dissection?”

Callum laughed. “Merlin, no! Strictly observation. I just think it’s…well, amazing.”

“Yeah,” Remus said softly. “Me too. Sometimes.”

Behind them, Sirius had stopped walking. 

Remus didn’t need to look to know Sirius was listening. He could feel the weight of his gaze, heavy and increasingly annoyed. And sure enough, the second Callum waved goodbye and headed off toward the courtyard, Sirius was at his side. 

“Fletcher seems very committed to the academic pursuit of you.”

Remus arched an eyebrow. “It’s called curiosity. And he’s harmless. And if I remember correctly, someone else bombarded me with questions after finding out about my fishy side.”

Sirius made a noise halfway between a grunt and a scoff. 

Remus gave him a long look. “You know he’s not trying to–”

“I know,” Sirius cut in. “I just don’t like how much he wants to know you.”

“He just wants to know about me,” Remus explained. “There’s a difference.”

But Sirius didn’t reply. 

Remus reached for Sirius’ sleeve. “Come here.”

Before Sirius could respond, Remus tugged him into the nearest broom cupboard. The door shut behind them with a soft click. 

Sirius stumbled slightly, caught off guard “You know,” he began, a smirk tugging at his lips, “we’re going to get caught doing this-”

“Not if you shut up,” Remus muttered, and kissed him hard.

Sirius made a muffled sound of protest that very quickly melted into something deeper and needier as Remus pressed him back against the shelves. Their bodies collided with a thud that rattled a tin of wood polish off a nearby ledge.

Remus fisted his hands in Sirius’ hair, pulling closer, deeper, desperate, as if only this, only Sirius, could hold him steady.

Sirius wound his arms around Remus’ waist, gripping tight. Their mouths moved in sync, urgent and knowing, like he’d been waiting for this exact moment all week. 

Then again, maybe he had. 

It wasn’t neat or careful. It was the kind of kiss that bruised, teeth clashing and breath catching. And yet Remus still wanted more. 

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless.

Sirius blinked up at him, thoroughly dazed, his pupils blown wide in the dim light. “Bloody hell, Moony…”

Remus smirked down at Sirius, his thumb brushing over flushed skin like he was trying to memorize it. “Flushed cheeks look good on you.”

“Yeah?” Sirius tugged him back by the collar. “So does pouncing on me in confined spaces.”

“Mm.” Remus leaned his forehead against Sirius’ for a moment, letting the silence settle between them. “I needed that.”

Sirius’ voice softened. “Me too.”

They stayed like that for another minute, closer than they should be, closer than they’d ever be allowed to be in the open. Their bodies were drawn together like magnetic poles.

And for a moment, the dream didn’t matter. The lake, the pull, the strange mermaid with the sea-glass tail. All of it faded as Sirius held him like this. Remus could almost forget the way the dream clung to him even after waking, could almost convince himself it wasn’t real.

Because in the dream, he wasn’t quite himself. He didn’t move like he did. He didn’t think like he did. He wasn’t sure who he was, only that he was someone, or something, else, watching the mermaid with a feeling he didn’t understand.

But here, Sirius’ hands on his waist, the warmth of his breath against his neck, this was real. Grounding.

Here, he knew exactly who he was.

Remus pressed a kiss to Sirius’ temple, quiet and grateful, and let the moment anchor him before the current could pull again.

When Remus finally straightened and reached for the door, Sirius caught his hand.

“Hey,” he said, quieter now. “We could just… not go to dinner.”

Remus smiled at him, tired and fond, and shook his head. “If we don’t, James will send out a search party. Or worse, he’ll join us.”

Sirius laughed, then groaned. “Now I’m picturing that. You’ve ruined everything.”

Remus smirked, squeezing his hand once more. “You’ll survive.”

He pulled the door open just a crack, peering out into the corridor. Empty.

But as he stepped out into the open, his face shifted, from soft and open to more composed and careful.

Sirius followed, adjusting his robes, his fingers brushing Remus’ for the briefest second before letting go.

“Now we have to walk in there pretending we weren’t just… this,” he muttered, tugging his tie loose.

Remus didn’t look back, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. “I’m very good at pretending.”

Chapter Text

The transition from November to December brought with it an unusual chill in the air. The wind howled through the towers of the castle, rattling the windows and whistling down the corridors. By mid-morning, the frost on the grounds still hadn’t melted, clinging to the grass in glittering sheets. Students hunched into their cloaks between classes, breath fogging the air like ghosts.

Charms class ended with another sixth year blowing up a feather and James nearly catching his robes on fire while Sirius laughed until he cried, but Remus barely remembered it.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the lake.

The need had started before breakfast, a soft and quiet beckoning, like the hum of a song. It pulsed under his skin, faint and persistent, not painful but impossible to ignore. It wasn’t the same pull as the moons, where his body unraveled and reshaped. This was quieter. Older. Like a voice just beneath the surface of the water, whispering something he couldn’t quite hear.

He rubbed his forearm absently as they walked through the courtyard, an itch he couldn't quite scratch. Sirius fell into step beside him, the collar of his cloak turned up high against the wind.

“You keep looking out the window like waiting for a bloody grindylow to come serenade you,” Sirius said, elbowing him gently.

Remus blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

Sirius jerked his chin toward the far edge of the grounds. Through the haze, the lake shimmered, a dark steel-grey mirror. “The lake. You’ve been eyeing it all day like it’s calling your name.”

Remus hesitated. “It sort of is.”

Sirius stopped walking. “You’re serious.”

Remus gave a half-shrug, pulling his cloak tighter. “I think I might go swimming.”

Sirius stared at him. “Now? Moony, it’s freezing.”

“I know it sounds mad.” Remus looked out at the lake again. “It just feels necessary.”

“Necessary?”

“It’s not like the full moon,” Remus added quickly. “It’s not even about the tail or magic or anything. I just feel like I need to be in the water. 

Sirius was quiet for a moment, then asked more gently, “Want me to come with you?”

Remus looked at him, warmth blooming in his chest. “I’d love that, Sirius. But you’ll freeze.”

“I’ve braved worse things than a cold swim.”

“True, but I still don’t want you losing a toe,” Remus said, smiling. “I don't want to have to fight you over the cloak, because there is no way that you'd win.”

Sirius squinted at him, skeptical but affectionate. “So let me get this straight. You’re being summoned to the bottom of a freezing lake by some instinct that you can’t explain, and you’re telling me you’re fine.”

Remus gave me a crooked grin. “That about sums it up, yeah.”

Sirius sighed and dragged a hand through his hair. “Brilliant. Just brilliant. And I suppose I’m meant to just sit in the castle, twiddling my thumbs while you go off and commune with magical lake spirits or whatever?”

“I won’t be long,” Remus promised. “Besides, I’ve survived years of your impulsive ideas. Let me have this one.”

Sirius exhaled slowly. “Alright,” he said, though it clearly pained him to say it. “But if you come back with frostbite or are possessed by an ancient sea ghost, I’m personally hexing the entire lake.”

Remus laughed, the sound breathy and warm in the frozen air. “Deal.”

They stood there for a moment longer, the cold nipping at their hands, the lake shimmering in the distance like something waited.

Then Remus turned, boots crunching on the frostbitten path as he headed toward his cave, his heart already racing with anticipation.

Behind him, Sirius lingered for a moment, watching, before shoving his hands in his pockets and muttering under his breath, “Bloody ridiculous.”

The shock of the cold stole his breath, but it didn’t last. As the magic took hold, fins unfurling, gills flaring, and skin rippling with the shimmer of bronze scales, the cold slipped away.

The transformation had been painless and familiar, like slipping into a second skin.

He slipped beneath the surface and everything above vanished. The cold, the light, the world. Just water now. The silence felt different underwater, not empty, but full of the living beings who lived there. It pressed against Remus like an embrace.

He swam low, brushing over beds of sand and stone, trailing through tangled reeds that reached for him like ribbons, no longer worried about getting caught, as if he knew that the beings were dormant today. His tail moved with slow, elegant sweeps, stirring up tiny eddies in the dark. The lake was cold, yes, but welcoming. 

He passed a school of tiny silver fish that scattered at his approach. A cluster of lakeweed pulsed gently, and even the grindylows lurking in the shadowed rock crevices stayed still, content to watch him pass.

Then then…they were there.

The Vodyanoy.

Three this time. Lurking beyond the kelp beds, half concealed in the murk. Silent shapes, long-limbed and slow-moving, their strange faces pale and hollow-eyes beneath algae-like hair. One blinked, lids dragging over dark eyes like thick curtains.

Remus stilled, the water curling softly around his body. His spine prickled. The Vodyanoy didn’t move toward him. Didn’t gesture. Just watched. Still and steady as stone statues sunk beneath the surface.

He felt something stir in his chest, like a strange tug. Not fear, exactly. Something more ancient. 

He remembered what Dumbledore had said. That the Vodyanoy were not cruel by nature. But that grief can twist even the gentlest creature into something dangerous.

He held their gaze a moment longer, heart thudding slowly beneath his ribs.

Then he turned, muscles slicing through the water as he glided back toward the surface, the lake curling behind him like smoke.

By the time Remus emerged from the water, the sky was a light gray, clouds stretching over the treetops. He pulled himself from the water, letting the transformation back to his limbs overtake him. He was used to it now. His hair was damp at the roots, curling wildly around his ears.

Despite the chill, his blood felt warm. There was a peace in him that he knew was due to the lake.

He made his way back to the castle, boots squelching in the soft, damp earth. He passed a cluster of first-years returning from Herbology and offered a quiet nod, carefully to keep his expression neutral. 

When he stopped into the Entrance Hall, he spotted Sirius and Lily leaning against the windowsill in the corridor near the Charms classroom, mid-conversation. Sirius had his arms crossed, head tilted toward Lily in that casually dramatic way of his, while Lily rolled her eyes, clearly pretending not to laugh at whatever he was saying.

Remus’ heart pulled tight at the sight.

Sirius saw him first and his eyes lit up immediately. “There he is,” he said, straightening.

“You’re soaked,” Lily observed, glancing over at him with a slightly raised brow. “Were you swimming?”

Remus shrugged. “It was worth it.”

Sirius stepped closer, his voice low and teasing. “You should’ve let me come with you.”

“So that you could’ve frozen your arse off,” Remus said, grinning.

“I’d have managed.”

Remus gave him a soft look, fingers brushing Sirius's sleeve in passing. “Next time,” he promised. “Once I figure out a warming charm to use in the water, we won’t have to fight over the cloak.”

Sirius’s smile tilted. “Good. Because it’s mine now.”

Lily was watching them now, her brow furrowing slightly, arms folded as her gaze flicked from Remus to the fond smile Sirius didn’t bother hiding.

“Okay…” she said slowly. “What is going on here?” Her voice wasn’t accusatory, more curious, like she already had an idea but was giving them the chance to say it first.

Both boys turned to her like they’d just been caught doing something they shouldn’t.

She didn’t flinch. “You’ve been different lately. The two of you.” A pause. “I noticed when you were stuck in the Hospital Wing, Remus.”

Remus blinked.

Lily went on, tone soft but steady. “The way Sirius was always there, sitting at your bedside. Talking to you like the rest of the room didn’t exist. You looked–” She broke off, then huffed a little breath. “Honestly, it was a bit obvious now that I think about it, but I didn’t think–”

Sirius stilled beside him. His posture didn’t change, but Remus could feel it, the way his breath caught. Remus’ own pulse was suddenly loud in his ears.

“And now,” Lily continued, tilting her head, “you’ve got this whole silent conversation thing going on. The looks, the half-smiles, the whispering like you’re not already touching elbows every chance you get…”

She let that hang in the air. 

“Did something change?” she asked, gently now.

There was no judgment in her voice. Only care and concern, and a flicker of protectiveness.

Remus opened his mouth, then closed it again. Words caught in his throat like seaweed. He hadn’t ever said the words out loud, and he wasn’t sure how to say them now.

Lily glanced at him, then Sirius, and something clicked behind her eyes. She didn’t flinch, she just nodded, like that was all the answer she needed. 

“I mean,” she went on, more slowly, “I think it’s nice, you know. It’s good. That you have each other. Really.” She hesitated, then added, looking right at Sirius. “But don’t screw it up.”

Sirius blinked, startled by her sudden shift in tone. “Sorry?” Remus looked away now, suddenly finding the stone floor very interesting. 

“I mean it, Black,” she said. “Remus is special. And if you hurt him, I won’t forgive you.”

There was no malice behind it. No dramatics. Just truth, a line drawn with quiet conviction.

Sirius stared at her for a second, mouth parted like he was trying to come up with something clever, but nothing came.

He just nodded. “Understood.”

Remus exhaled, the tightness in his chest easing. Lily gave him a look that was equal parts fond and exasperated, then turned and disappeared down the corridor.

The silence left in her wake was thoughtful. 

Sirius rubbed the back of his neck. “Remind me not to piss her off.”

“She likes you,” Remus said, grinning now. “That was her being nice.”

Sirius gave a low whistle. “What does she do to people she doesn’t like?”

 Sirius bumped his shoulder gently. “Alright?”

“Yeah,” Remus said. “You?”

Sirius shrugged. “Didn’t expect to be emotionally smacked by Lily Evans today, but.. I probably had it coming.”

“Definitely had it coming,” Remus agreed.

With a quiet chuckle, he slung an arm around Sirius’s shoulders, tugging him as close as he dared as they started down the corridor.

“C’mon Pads,” he said. “Let’s go work on that Arithmancy essay.

Sirius leaned into him, lips twitching. “Bossy merman.”

Remus rolled his eyes and steered them toward the common room, their laughter trailing behind them.

The dreams continued. 

Remus was underwater again, but not as himself. He knew it the way you know you’re not the one speaking in a dream, even when it’s your mouth.

He hovered at the edge of the lakebed, the silt soft beneath him, vision clouded by the dark press of water. Everything moved slowly.

And then she was there.

Lira.

Her sea-green tail shimmering in the low light of the lake, her eyes, her black hair fanning behind her. The last time he saw her, her eyes had been blue, but they appeared to be glowing green now. She approached slowly, watching him, or whoever he was.

Remus felt the longing. The need. A deep, magical ache rooted in the ancient memory.

She didn’t speak, but he felt her question in his chest.

What do you want from me?

And the answer pulsed back, silent but overwhelming.

We need you.

She was the answer. She could bring balance.

Remus drew in a breath, though he was fairly certain he didn’t have lungs in whatever form he was in, and felt the ache swell in his chest. It wasn’t his pain, but it pulsed through him all the same, undeniable.

Remus woke with a gasp. 

Sirius was still asleep beside him, face pressed into the pillow. The dormitory was quiet.

His chest rose and fell too fast. His throat was dry. The dream was fading, but something about it clung to him. Not just the image of the mermaid or the way her now-green eyes had looked right to him, but the feeling. That strange, echoing pull in his chest. 

He didn’t understand it.

Didn’t know why it unsettled him so deeply. 

Carefully, he rolled over, pressing his forehead against Sirius’ shoulder. The contact helped bring him back. He was solid and warm and real.

Sirius mumbled something in his sleep, instinctively tightening his hold around Remus’ middle.

Remus breathed in his familiar smell, lightly clutching the fabric of his shirt, and listened to the sound of rain pattering faintly against the windows, before drifting off once more.

Chapter Text

Mist curled through the cracks of Remus’ consciousness. At first, everything was water. Cold green-tinted, pulsing. A presence Remus was familiar with.

He drifted through the water and watched. Far above, a shape cut through the surface. Slender. Fluid.

She always came alone. Her name wasn’t spoken, not in the language of men. But he knew her. Lira.

She drifted down through the water, her tail shimmering in hues of green. Scales trailed over her rubs, across her chest, across her arms. 

She was curious. 

She never spoke to them directly. Not yet.

But she came. Again. And again.

The dream shifted.

They waited near the shallows, just beyond the old standing stones that had long since eroded in Remus’s waking world. The land was familiar, but not right. Wilder. The mountains were the same, but untouched by pathways. No turrets cut the sky.

No Hogwarts.

The lake magic was young. Untamed. Cracked in places, healing and breaking and regrowing in endless rhythm.

The Vodyanoy were its guardians.

And she was something new. Something strange.

Something they hadn’t seen in a long, long time.

They offered her gifts.

Smooth stones humming with buried songs. Bits of carved bone wrapped in silver strands. A charm woven in reeds and teeth and magic that shimmered with the same undercurrent that ran through her.

She didn’t understand. But she took them anyway.

She tucked them behind her ear, tied them in her hair, slid them into the kelp-woven cord around her waist.

And she returned again the next night. 

And the next.

Each time, she swam deeper.

Each time, she swam closer.

Another shift.

Now he was her.

Lira floated just above the trench, the lake growing darker below. The Vodyanoy waited in the depths, still as statues, eyes like lanterns flickering through the gloom.

She should’ve been afraid, but she wasn’t.

The loneliness in her chest was louder than any fear.

Every time she returned, her eyes seemed to glow a stronger green. Scales spreading over her body, over her shoulders and arms.

Even surrounded by the creatures of the lake, she never felt like she belonged.

She wanted understanding.

They understood.

They never asked for anything.

They just waited and watched.

Like they were hoping.

He couldn't stop drawing her. That morning, as Professor McGonagall droned about the intricacies of nonverbal spell transfiguration, Remus’s hand moved of its own accord. Not full portraits, just the shape of her tail, the sheen of scales he remembered too clearly.

He flipped to a new page when Sirius leaned in.

“Drawing yourself again, Moony?”

Remus startled. “What?”

Sirius nodded towards the sketch. 

Remus flushed. “Oh, uh, just…”

“Doodling,” Sirius finished for him with a strange look. But he let it go.

Even when he ran into Callum, the other boy was bright as ever, peppering him with cautious but enthusiastic questions about aquatic respiration rates. Remus smiled and answered a few distractedly, but his eyes kept flicking down the corridor.

He wasn’t looking for anyone.

Not really.

But his chest ached with a restlessness he couldn’t explain. Callum, at least, didn’t seem to notice. 

But Sirius did.

Between classes, Sirius pulled him into a quiet corridor, an alcove tucked behind a statue of Wendelin the Weird.

“Alright,” Sirius said, arms crossed. “What’s going on with you?”

Remus rubbed at his temples. “I’m tired.”

“Bullshit. You’ve looked pale for days. You didn’t even touch your toast at breakfast this morning.”

Remus hesitated, then exhaled through his nose.

“I’ve been…dreaming.”

Sirius’s posture shifted slightly. Not surprised, exactly. Just more attentive. “Bad ones?”

“No,” Remus said. “Not really. Just strange. Always the same, but different. It’s always in the lake, but it’s…older. And there’s a girl.”

Sirius frowned. “A girl ?”

“Not like that,” Remus muttered. “She’s a mermaid. Not one of the lake merfolk. She’s… like me. Someone from before, I think.”

Sirius blinked. “You think ?”

“I just know , alright?” Remus said sharply, then caught himself. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Sorry. I’m just…tired. They’re dreams. That’s all.”

Sirius was quiet for a moment.

“Maybe you should talk to Dumbledore.”

“No,” Remus said too quickly. “It’s nothing. Just leftover lake magic or something.”

Sirius didn’t look convinced.

The first snow of December drifted lazily across the castle grounds, frosting the windows in delicate, shifting spirals. Inside the Gryffindor common room, the fire snapped and roared, casting warm golden light across piles of textbooks, forgotten chess boards, and groups of students hunched in laughter.

James had his feet propped on the arm of an overstuffed armchair, tossing a Quaffle between his hands like it was second nature. “I’m telling you,” he said, “this match against Hufflepuff is going to be our cleanest win of the season. Their Keeper has got a dodgy shoulder. He’ll never be able to block my backhand loops.”

“Assuming you don’t fall off your broom showing off again,” Sirius muttered from the floor, where he was sprawled on his back with a cushion under his head.

“I only fell once ,” James shot back.

“Twice,” Peter said through a mouthful of Bertie Bott’s. “You missed the hoop entirely the second time.”

“Details,” James said loftily.

“Ivy and I are going to watch the match together,” Peter said with a grin. “We’ve er… taken things to the next level.”

Sirius groaned and rolled over dramatically. “Peter, no. I don’t need to what about your ‘next level.’ Whatever it is, I promise it’s too much.”

Peter flushed. “Oi! You’re just jealous.”

“Of what, precisely? You two snogging under the bleachers while she hexes your trousers off?”

“Well at least I’ve gotten farther than you ever have!”

James barked a laugh. Remus kept his eyes on the fire, his cheeks hot. His ears burned just thinking about they'd done on Sirius’ birthday. The feeling of his lips urgently pressing against his, the weight of his hands, sinking into the water…

“ –Right, Moony?” Sirius was saying, nudging him with a socked foot. “Tell Peter he’s completely off his rocker.”

Remus blinked. “Hm?”

“Tell him I’m far too elegant for bleacher hookups.”

“Sure,” Remus said weakly, heart still racing. He didn’t dare look at Sirius. 

James leaned forward suddenly, clapping his hands. “Alright, if we’re all sharing our love lives–”

“Please, no–”

“I’m going to ask Lily to the last Gryffindor party before break. It’s the perfect time. Holiday cheer, warm cider, soft lighting. She won’t be able to resist.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Does Lily know you’ve planned this romantic ambush?”

“ Details ,” James waved him off. “But that means you lot need dates, too.”

“Still on this?” Sirius asked flatly.

“Think about it, Pads.” James grinned. “Peter has Ivy. I’ll have Lily. You can take Mary. And Remus, mate, you should ask Marlene. Lily is more likely to go with me if all of her friends are also going with dates.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Sirius snorted. “Back to this whole Mary thing again?”

“She likes you!” James insisted. “She told me during the last Charms study session that she likes your cheekbones.”

Remus snorted into his sleeve.

Sirius gave an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. For you , Prongs, I’ll invite the lovely Mary to our little Christmas soiree.”

James beamed. “Perfect!”

Remus’ smile faltered, just a fraction, as something prickled behind his ribs.

Of course Sirius said yes. He would always try to make James happy, especially when he was in full party-planning, matchmaking, overconfident-Quidditch-captain mode. Remus knew Sirius didn’t care about Mary, at least not like that . And still, something about it curled unpleasantly in his chest. The idea of Mary hanging off Sirius’ arm, laughing at his jokes, brushing her fingers over his sleeve like she sometimes did in class.

He shoved the thought aside.

He couldn’t blame Sirius for going along with it. This was all part of the deal, wasn’t it? They hadn’t told James or Peter anything. The late-night kisses, the bunk-sharing, the way their fingers always found each other in the dark. That was theirs . Private and protected. But sometimes it felt…brittle. Like something that could crack if someone looked too closely.

Remus made a vague gesture, trying to keep his tone light. “Marlene’s always busy with practice schedules. Wouldn’t want to interrupt.”

James rolled his eyes.

Remus didn’t meet Sirius’s eyes at first, but he could feel it. When he finally looked, Sirius was already glancing at him across the space between them, unreadable, his smile thinner now.

Their gazes held for just a second too long.

Remus’ stomach twisted. He forced a small shrug, tried to make it seem easy, casual, like it didn’t matter at all.

Sirius looked away first.

The conversation had moved on, but Remus barely heard it.

Gryffindor had won their match against Hufflepuff as James predicted, and the common room practically vibrated with excitement. House colors draped across every available surface, charmed fairy lights blinked in crimson and gold, and someone had enchanted a record player to blast with a deep thumping beat.

The victory only fueled anticipation for the last Gryffindor party before the holidays. James was in rare form, flushed from the win and grinning ear to ear as Lily, surprisingly, agreed to be his date. Peter had managed to sneak Ivy in, and the two were already tucked into a corner, giggling into spiked pumpkin juice.

Remus tried not to think too much as Sirius strolled through the portrait hole with Mary on his arm, laughing at something she said. She looked thrilled to be with him, practically glowing. Her hand curled around his elbow, and she beamed up at him like he’d just promised her the moon. 

Remus stood near the fire, nursing a drink and trying to look unconcerned. Lily appeared at his side, her red hair catching the firelight like a halo. She didn’t say anything at first, just handed him another cup.

“I come in peace,” she said lightly, raising her brows.

Remus accepted it with a small nod. “Thanks.”

For a few moments, they watched the party unfold together. Peter and Ivy were nowhere to be seen, James was enthusiastically spinning Lily’s abandoned scarf like a lasso, and Sirius was letting Mary drape herself over him with a practiced grin.

“He’s not subtle,” Lily finally said.

Remus turned to look at her. “What?”

“Sirius,” she said, still watching the crowd. “He’s terrible at hiding when he’s smitten.”

Remus froze, cup halfway to his lips.

Lily turned to look at him fully now, her voice softer. “I’ve known for a while that there was someone. Only more recently figured out it’s you.”

“I didn’t– We didn’t mean for anyone to know.”

“I know,” Lily said gently. "I have a knack for figuring things out on my own, though.” Remus smiled. Too right.

He exhaled slowly, eyes fixed on the rim of his cup. “You’re the only one who knows.”

“I figured,” she said gently. 

“It’s not..” He hesitated. “It’s not something I know how to talk about.”

Lily nodded, her tone careful. “Because it’s Sirius.”

“Yeah.” Remus’ voice was barely above a whisper. “And because I don’t… I don’t know what this is. We haven’t… defined it. And I haven’t asked.”

But he wanted to. That was the maddening part. He wanted to name it, to hold it in his hands and call it something real. But if he did, would it vanish? Would Sirius laugh, pull away, shake his head like it had all been one long, lovely joke?

“But you care about him,” she said, not as a question.

Remus looked over at Sirius spinning Mary around. “It’s impossible not to.”

The words settled in his chest, true and terrifying. Every touch, every glance, every stupid smirk, it was all carved into him now. Into something that was too big for Remus to name.

There was a pause, and the noise of the party faded around him. 

Lily’s voice was quiet. “He cares about you, too, you know. I’ve never seen him look at anyone like he looks at you.”

Remus gave a small, self-conscious laugh. “It still just feels delicate. Like if I name it or talk about it, it’ll break.”

“You don’t have to name it,” Lily said, touching his arm. 

He looked over at her with gratitude. “Thanks,” he murmured.

“For what?”

“For not making this a thing,” Remus said. “And for not… looking at me differently.”

Lily smiled, kind and unwavering. “You’re still Remus.”

He felt the words settle in his chest like a balm. For a moment, he just sat with it, letting the warmth of her acceptance wash through him.

Movement across the room caught his eye.

Sirius had just returned from the drinks table, handing off a cup to Mary with a crooked grin. Their eyes met across the flicker of candlelight and laughter, and the whole world narrowed to that one glance. Familiar and charged, like an unspoken truth humming between them. 

Then the music changed, and Sirius leaned in to whisper something to Mary. She pouted a little but nodded, and Sirius slipped away through the crowd.

He appeared beside Remus a moment later, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Come help me fetch more firewhiskey. We’re nearly out.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Really? I feel like the table’s still–”

“ Now , Lupin,” Sirius interrupted, grabbing his wrist.

As they turned to go, Lily took a sip of her drink and called lightly after them. “Don’t take too long boys.”

Remus let himself be tugged through the crowd and up the stairs, his heart already racing. The dormitory was dim and quiet in contrast to the party below, the air shifting around them. Sirius closed the door behind them with a quiet click .

Then, before Remus could even catch his breath or ask what the hell Sirius was playing at, Sirius stepped forward and kissed him.

Hard.

It wasn’t tentative or teasing. It was want and heat crashing into a single point of contact. Remus stumbled back a step, hands finding the edges of Sirius’ shirt, his back bumping into the edge of his bed. Then hands on his waist, firm and certain, and he was being guided down.

The curtains snapped closed behind them with a practiced swoop.

“Your waist drives me insane–” Sirius muttered between kisses.

Remus let out a breathless laugh. “You’re insatiable.” 

Sirius laughed against his lips. “You looked like you needed rescuing.” His tongue brushed his lower lip, breath catching when Remus pulled him closer.

Remus huffed a laugh, grinning now. “Look at you, ditching your fake date for me. I’m honored.”

Sirius laughed, his breath warm on Remus’s neck. “She’ll survive. You, on the other hand… you looked like you were going to murder someone if Mary pulled me for another dance.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue. His fingers curled into the fabric at Sirius’ back, tugging him even closer, savoring the warm weight of him in the quiet room.

Then Sirius pulled back a little, gaze softening. “God, either I’m drunker than I thought or your eyes look different in this light.”

“What?”

Sirius pulled back, brushing a thumb under Remus’s eye. “No, I’m serious. They’re lighter. Sort of gold? Or…bronze, like your tail.”

Remus scoffed. “Don’t be daft.”

“I’m not,” Sirius continued, pulling his face in different angles in the light. “They’re– hang on– let me–” He tilted Remus’ face this way and that, his thumb trailing under his cheekbone. His eyes were wide and curious.

But Remus squirmed out of his grip. “I’m not letting you stare at me like I’m a bloody painting. Come on. Back to the party before someone notices.”

Sirius let out a dramatic sigh but didn’t protest. He helped pull back the curtain and followed Remus down the stairs, smoothing down his hair with little success.

They re-entered the common room to a blast of music and chatter. It was as if no one had even noticed they’d been gone. Except for one person.

Lily sat in the corner with her cup. She looked up as they approached, her sharp eyes flicking between their mussed hair, flushed cheeks, and slightly swollen lips.

She arched one brow, but didn’t say a word.

Sirius made a face. “We’re doomed.”

Mary, tipsy now, spotted Sirius and immediately dragged him back toward the dance floor. Sirius threw Remus a comically tragic look as he was whisked away. “There you are! Another dance, you promised!”

Sirius shot Remus a look over his shoulder as he was dragged off. Remus smirked and shook his head.

He watched Sirius go, and he caught himself smiling. Because he knew that Sirius Black was his.  

Remus rejoined Lily, cheeks flushed, hair mussed. She raised an eyebrow.

“Got what you needed?”

“Yeah,” he said with a smirk. “Yeah, thanks.”

They stood together a while longer, observing the chaos. James had approached them a few times, begging Lily to dance with him, and when she finally gave in, their dancing was more like bumping awkwardly in time with the music, both a little tipsy and laughing. Peter was nowhere to be seen, likely tucked away with Ivy somewhere more private. Mary was spinning with Sirius near the fire. 

As the night progressed, Remus let the firewhiskey burn down his throat and settle in his stomach. His drinks and his recently restless sleep seemed to finally catch up to him, and he caught himself yawning while watching all of his friends spinning around the room in unfiltered joy.

He slipped out of the common room and padded up the stairs, the noise below growing fainter with every step. Once in the dormitory, he headed straight for the bathroom, stomach still warm from firewhiskey and kisses.

He turned on the tap, splashing cold water on his face.

Then he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror.

He paused.

The flickering candlelight made his features look strange at first. Washed out. A bit hollow from exhaustion and drinking. But it wasn’t the shadows that made him lean closer.

It was his eyes.

They weren’t brown anymore. Not really.

The irises had lightened just enough to be noticeable, shifting to a warm, metallic hue. Bronze, unmistakable. The exact color of his tail. 

Remus blinked.

He rubbed at them, leaned in again.

They shimmered faintly, unnaturally. 

Sirius had said it early. They’re lighter. Sort of gold? Or…bronze, like your tail.

He hadn’t believed him. 

He pressed both hands to the sink, heart thudding in his ears.

They really were changing. 

Just like the dreams.

Just like Lira.

He closed his eyes, trying to breathe through the sudden tightness in his chest. He could still feel Sirius’ hands on his waist, the heat of his kiss. He focused on that, on the weight of the real world, the pull of Sirius’s laughter echoing through him.

After a moment, Remus opened his eyes again. The bronze was still there.

He wasn’t imagining it.

He turned off the tap, dried his hands slowly and walked back into the dorm. Sirius had returned, already curled under the covers of his bed.

“You alright?” Sirius asked once he spotted Remus.

“Yeah,” Remus said hoarsely.

He crossed the room and crawled into Sirius’s bed, and let the curtains fall closed around them.

Sirius shifted, letting Remus settle in. “Firewhiskey too strong for you, old man?”

Remus huffed a laugh and curled into his side, one arm around Sirius’s waist. “Don’t forget, you’re older than me.”

Sirius pressed a kiss into his hair and turned down the light.

And Remus lay there quietly, the gold-tinged glow of his reflection still flickering behind his eyes.

Chapter Text

The scales were small. Hardly larger than a Galleon. Just four of them, nestled high on the inside of Remus’s left forearm, bronze and faintly iridescent in the light from the dormitory window the Sunday morning immediately following the Gryffindor party.

He stared at them for too long.

Then tugged his sleeve down. Hard.

He didn’t say anything to Sirius. Didn’t even glance at him from across the room as the other boy chucked a sock at James for insulting his hair. They were all laughing, loud and warm and alive. And Remus smiled, nodding at the right times, even tossed a crumpled piece of parchment at Peter when he groaned about his Ancient Runes homework.

But the urge to swim had been gnawing at him since he woke up. It had been consistently for days, growing stronger with every day that he ignored it.

It was the strongest that it had ever been, like a tide, rising inside his ribs, as if he could feel his gills waiting to make an appearance every time he so much as touched water. Even rinsing his hands made his skin prickle with longing.

Remus clenched his jaw and shoved the thoughts down.

A knock came on the dormitory door, and Callum Fletcher entered hesitantly. 

“Hey, Remus,” he said. “Dumbledore is asking for you.”

“Oh,” he said, feeling the gazes of the other boys now all zeroed on him. “Right. Thanks, Callum.” Callum nodded and left. 

Remus paused, feeling the panic begin to take hold. The last time he’d been summoned to Dumbledore’s office, Callum and Elspeth had vanished beneath the lake. He remembered the heavy dread in his chest, the way Dumbledore looked at him, gave him the burden to bear. And the aftermath of what happened.

But he then got up without another word, and walked towards the headmaster’s office again. 

He climbed the spiral staircase slowly, and then knocked.

“Enter,” came the calm voice.

Dumbledore was already sitting at his desk.

“Remus. Thank you for coming.”

“Is everything alright, Professor?”

Dumbledore was silent for a moment, not exactly nodding, but taking his time to figure out how to respond. “That’s a complicated word, ‘alright.’ But for now, yes.”

He gestured for Remus to sit. Fawkes the phoenix stirred on his perch with a soft rustling of feathers.

Remus eased into the chair, every muscle taut.

“The Black Lake,” Dumbledore began, his voice quiet but steady, “is not just a lake. I suspect you’ve known this for some time, even before your more recent discoveries.”

Remus nodded slowly.

“It is ancient. Older than this castle. It’s one of many magically sentient habitats in our world. Self-sustaining, deeply elemental. A spiritual ecosystem where magical creatures, currents, and natural tides intertwine in balance.”

He paused, picking up a small glass orb from his desk and turning it in his hands.

“But the Echo Tides this fall disrupted this balance. The magical retrograde fractured that natural flow of energy. Some of the lake’s guardians were shaken from their dormancy far too early.”

Remus’s heart was pounding. “And now?”

“They’ve reverted,” Dumbledore said simply, “to older instincts. Ones buried in their ancient memory. When the currents fall out of alignment, the lake remembers how to correct itself through magical offering and binding. A kind of sacrifice.”

Remus swallowed hard. “What…kind of sacrifice?”

“That’s what I hope to avoid,” Dumbledore said. His gaze softened. “You are deeply connected to the lake. More than any of us truly understand. And that connection may not remain passive. The lake may begin to act on you as much as you act within it.”

Remus tensed.

Dumbledore continued, his voice gentle. “Magic as old as this does not forget. Nor does it discriminate. The Vodyanoy remember the currents before time was counted. And they remember loss. And now, as you know, they stir.”

He let the words settle, then looked at Remus with a quiet gravity.

“I need you to be careful in the water. You’re a bright student, Remus. One of the most perceptive I’ve seen at Hogwarts. But even the cleverest minds can be blindsided by magic this old. If something is…shifting in you, I don’t expect you to face it alone.”

He wanted to tell him. About the aching tug in his chest every time he looked at the lake. About the dreams, and how real they felt. The name echoing in his head each morning. The strange new shimmer to his eyes. The faint patch of bronze-scaled skin tucked under his sleeve.

But something in him balked.

Not because he didn’t trust Dumbledore, but because, if he said it aloud, it would be real. Tangible.

And that terrified him.

So he forced a smile. 

“No,” Remus said, voice steady despite the weight in his lungs. “Nothing’s changed.”

Dumbledore studied him for a long moment.

Remus didn’t squirm, but he could feel his pulse fluttering at his neck.

“Very well,” Dumbledore said finally, the faintest shadow of concern in his eyes. He didn’t press. Didn’t call him out. Only inclined his head once. “Then I trust you will let me know the moment that changes.”

Remus nodded and stood to leave.

But as he reached the door, Dumbledore added slowly, “Even when we don’t understand what’s changing within us, that doesn’t mean it isn’t happening. Be kind to yourself in the meantime.”

Remus paused, just for a second, then gave a nod without turning around and stepped out in the corridor.

When Remus made it back to the common room, he barely made it past the portrait hole before he was ambushed by Lily and his dorm mates.

“You’ve been gone ages,” James said, frowning as he stepped in front of him. “Don’t tell me McGonagall caught you enchanting the desks to explode again.”

“That wasn’t even Remus, technically,” Peter muttered, looking up from where he and Lily had been playing chess.

Remus tried to smile, but it came out thin. He felt a chill as Dumbledore’s voice echoed in his head. You are deeply connected to the lake .

“No, it was just Dumbledore,” he said quietly. “McGonagall wasn’t there. I'm not in trouble, Dumbledore just wanted to talk.”

That stopped them. All three boys turned to him in unison. 

“About the lake?” Sirius asked, more serious now, his tone gentler than the others. He was watching Remus closely.

Remus nodded.

“Come on,” Lily said, already ushering them all to the couches by the fireplace. “Sit down and talk.”

He sank down into the cushions. For a moment, he stared into the fire, feeling the warmth lick across his skin. Then, slowly, he told them.

Not everything. Not about the scales.

But most.

He told them about the Echo Tides, the magical ruptures, and how it had weakened the boundary between the lake’s elemental forces. How the Vodyanoy had been fractured from their roles, stirred back by ancient instincts, awakened, and now trying to restore balance the only way they knew how: through magical offering.

“They think the lake is still broken,” Remus finished, rubbing his hands together. “And they’re trying to fix it.”

James leaned forward, brows furrowed. “Fix it how? What sort of offering?”

Remus hesitated.

Lily’s voice as the one that cut in, quiet but sharp. “A magical offering. You mean…like a person?”

“That’s why they took Callum and Elspeth before,” he replied. 

“And now they want…”

The fire cracked. Outside, the wind rattled faintly against the window panes.

Peter swallowed audibly.

“No,” James said, shaking his head. “That’s not… that can’t be what Dumbledore meant.”

“He didn’t say it,” Remus replied. “But that’s how it feels.”

“And you’re connected,” Sirius said softly. “Because of what you are.”

Remus glanced at him, and something unspoken passed between them. He looked away just as quickly.

“Well, that’s absolute rubbish,” James said, sitting back with a scoff. “You’re not a…whatever they think you are. You’re not some bloody sacrifice.”

“But I am part of the lake,” Remus muttered, half to himself. “You’ve seen it. The full moons, the pull…the way they watch me.”

Sirius’s jaw tightened.

“You’re our friend,” Peter said suddenly, voice firmer than usual. “Not theirs. That’s what matters.”

Lily gave Peter a look of quiet approval.

“I’ve also…” Remus hesitated. “I’ve been having dreams.”

Sirius stilled.

“What kind of dreams?” Lily asked.

There was a long pause, and then Remus exhaled.

“I haven’t told you,” he said quietly. “Not yet. I…I’ve been having these dreams for weeks now. It’s always the lake. Or near it. But it’s different. Old. Like…ancient. Before Hogwarts was even there. And there’s this girl – a mermaid.”

“Lira,” Sirius said softly.

Remus looked up startled.

“You say her name in your sleep sometimes,” he added. Then, catching himself, added, “I’ve heard it a few times since our beds are next to each other.”

Remus nodded. “Yeah. Lira. I don’t know how I know it. It’s never been said, but I always…I just know it’s her.”

James leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “What happens in the dreams?”

“Bit and pieces,” Remus murmured. “Clips. Sometimes I see things from her perspective, sometimes from…something else. I think it’s the Vodyanoy. I feel what they feel. There’s this sense of… wanting her. Not in a horrible way. More like…a need. Like they think she can fix something.”

A hush fell over the room.

“Why didn’t you tell us before?” Peter asked.

“I didn’t want to make it a thing,” Remus said. “They didn’t feel threatening. I thought they were just weird. A side effect of everything that happened.”

“But it’s been weeks,” Sirius said, voice quiet.

Remus nodded, not quite meeting his eyes. “And they’re getting stronger.”

Lily sat back, mouth agape. “You told Dumbledore?”

Remus grimaced. “No. I didn’t want him to think I was going mad.”

“You’re not mad,” Sirius said too quickly. “You’re not.”

“But the lake…” Remus trailed off, his voice nearly inaudible. “It’s in me. I can feel it.”

No one spoke.

Then, James cleared his throat. “Alright. So. You’re dreaming of a mysterious mermaid, and a bunch of cursed water spirits want her for some magical reason that might also apply to you. Great.”

That broke some of the tension. Lily gave a small huff of laughter, and Peter cracked a reluctant grin. 

But Sirius was still staring at Remus, something stormy in his eyes.

But even with all four of them around him, the lake’s pull hadn’t faded. Not even a little bit.

Lily stood first, brushing invisible lint from her skirt. “I’m going to the library,” she announced, her tone brisk. “I know I can find something. I just haven’t looked in the right areas before.”

James immediately hopped to his feet. “I’ll walk you. You know, just in case Snape’s lurking around a corner of a library shelf.”

Lily rolled her eyes but didn’t protest as he followed her out.

Peter lingered a moment longer, glancing at his watch. “Shit, Ivy’s going to kill me if I’m late again. We’re supposed to meet at the greenhouses.” He gave Remus a light pat on the shoulder. “Hang in there, mate.”

And then it was just Sirius and Remus, the common room quieter now, the fire crackling low.

Sirius didn't speak right away. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, then looked over. “Full moon’s tomorrow.”

Remus nodded. “I know.”

“You haven’t said anything about it.”

“I haven’t wanted to think about it.”

Sirius leaned back, watching him. “You okay?”

Remus hesitated. “No. Not really.”

Sirius’ brow furrowed, and he shifted closer, their knees almost touching. “Tell me.”

Remus looked down at his hands. They were trembling faintly, so he clenched them in his lap. “The dreams, the pull… I can’t explain it. It’s like something’s humming inside me always. And the moon’s not helping. I’m scared I won’t be able to resist it.”

“The lake?” Sirius asked quietly.

Remus nodded. “It’s always there. In the back of my head. Even when I’m not near it. Even now.”

Sirius moved without speaking, closing the distance between them. He reached out and placed a hand over Remus’s clenched ones. Warm and grounding. 

“You won’t be alone,” he said. “Not for this.”

Remus didn’t answer right away. He wanted to believe that was true. But part of him, the quiet ancient part stirred awake by dreams and waters and something older than even the castle, knew that if this continued, there were parts of the journey only he could take.

Still, Sirius’ fingers curled tighter around his. 

“I know you’re not telling me everything,” Sirius said, not accusing. 

Remus flinched, but said nothing.

“I won’t push. But whatever it is… I can take it. I want to take it.”

Remus looked up, eyes searching his.

Sirius’ gaze was unwavering, serious in a way he so rarely was. And affectionate. So painfully, brilliantly affectionate it made Remus’ chest hurt.

He leaned in, resting his forehead against Sirius’ shoulder, letting himself breathe.

“Next time you get one of those dreams,” he said, “wake me.”

Chapter Text

The pull had been relentless all day. It gnawed at Remus’s thoughts, scraped beneath his skin like a dull knife. By afternoon, his concentration had frayed into nothing. His notes were illegible, his hands jittery, and his eyes kept drifting to the horizon, beyond the castle walls, as if the lake were calling out with a voice only he could hear.

By sundown, he felt feverish. His magic pulsed under his skin like a heartbeat. Everything inside him buzzed and pushed against the surface, demanding release.

He didn’t remember much of the walk to the willow. Just flashes. James’s usual complaints about the cold, Peter’s nervous silence, Sirius brushing their fingers together in the dark. And then the tunnel, and the long descent into the cave.

Remus was already shrugging off his cloak before they’d even reached the cave.

“Oi, slow down!” James called after him. 

Remus stumbled out into the cave chamber, the pool silver and beckoning to him. The sight of the water nearly knocked the breath from his lungs. He could feel it in his bones, in his blood. It wanted him. It needed him.

With shaking hands, he stripped down and immediately dove in.

The transformation took him fast. The pain was nothing compared to the feeling of relief. His body lengthened, shimmered, and adjusted. His tail flared and sliced through the water with familiar strength. His gills opened and fluttered. He was home.

He let the water press around him, let it pull him down deeper into the water. 

The water embraced him, and he let it.

He lost time. Minutes. Maybe longer.

He could’ve stayed, gone down deeper, if not for the echo of James’s voice, tinny and distant, penetrating the haze:

“Remus! Mate, what are you doing?”

He surfaced slowly, blinking as if waking from a dream.

They were all at the edge of the pool, peering down at him. James looked irritated. Peter was wide-eyed. Sirius looked pale.

“What?” Remus asked, a bit dazed.

“You went under and didn’t come back,” James said. “We thought you drowned!”

“I’m fine, I can’t drown,” Remus replied. “It’s good. The water’s good. It’s perfect tonight. You have no idea.”

“Want the cloak?” Sirius asked, holding it out.

Remus shook his head. “No. It doesn’t even feel cold anymore.”

Sirius exchanged a worried look at James.

“Moony,” Sirius said cautiously, “you’re acting weird.”

“I’m fine,” Remus said, already drifting toward the tunnel that led to the open lake. “I just… I need to swim.”

“Swim where ?” James called, nearly shouting now. “You’re not going out there–”

“I have to,” Remus said, his voice distant, almost lilting. “They’re waiting.”

“What ? Who’s waiting?” Peter asked, horrified.

Sirius stepped toward the edge of the pool. “Moony. Stop.”

But Remus kept going. The water rippled behind him as his tail swept, graceful and slow. He was halfway to the tunnel mouth. 

“Remus, stop,” James said firmly. “That’s the open lake. It’s the middle of December, and you’re not thinking straight.”

“I am thinking straight,” Remus said, almost absently.

His hand skimmed the surface of the water and he glided forward, each movement flow and deliberate. 

James took a sharp breath. “Remus. Mate. Don’t make us come in there after you.”

“You couldn’t catch me if you tried,” Remus replied, voice too calm.

Peter’s eyes widened. “This isn’t funny anymore. What’s wrong with him?”

“I’m right here,” Remus snapped suddenly, turning in the water. “I can hear you.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Sirius took a tentative step closer. “Moony. Just…come back, yeah? We’ll sit, we’ll talk, we can warm you up–”

“I don’t need to be warmed up!” Remus said, louder this time, voice cracking. “I don’t need anything from any of you right now. You don’t understand!”

The outburst rang through the cave like a shockwave. The boys stilled.

“I feel fine,” Remus said again, but his voice trembled, more unhinged now. “Better than I’ve ever felt. The water’s right. It’s calling to me. I need to be in it.”

He turned again toward the tunnel, hypnotically drawn forward.

“They’re out there. I can feel them. I know they’re waiting…”

“For what?!” Sirius shouted, his voice echoing off the rock. “To drag you under? To take you like they took the others? Who is going to save you, huh?”

Remus stopped mid-glide, tail drifting lazily, but still facing out toward the lake.

“They wouldn’t hurt me,” he murmured, but his voice had lost conviction.

Sirius didn’t hesitate. Not this time.

He shoved his boots off, threw down his cloak, and leapt into the water with a loud splash.

“Padfoot, are you mental?!” James shouted from the ledge.

Sirius surfaced with a gasp, shivering from the shock of cold but pushing forward. He reached Remus in a few strokes and grabbed his arm.

Remus bucked, startled. “Sirius! Let go. What are you doing ?”

Sirius wrapped an arm tightly around his waist, pulling him back towards the ledge.

“I’m stopping you,” Sirius ground out through chattering teeth. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You’re not – this isn’t you.”

Remus struggled in his grip, twisting in the water. “You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me!” Sirius shouted. “But you don’t get to swim off into the dark and just disappear, Moony.” Remus froze in Sirius’ grasp. “You remember what you said last night? That you were scared you wouldn’t be able to resist the pull of the moon? Well, you’re not. You’re giving in, Remus. But I won’t let you.” Sirius' voice cracked on the last word.

The water sloshed around them as his tail slowly stilled. The look in Sirius’ eyes, wild, desperate, and afraid, cut through whatever trance Remus had been in like a blade.

His own chest heaved. The water didn’t feel safe anymore. It felt too big.

“Sirius,” he whispered. Sirius let out an exhale, and pulled him closer into more of an embrace, not caring if James or Peter thought their closeness was odd. 

“Thank Merlin,” Sirius muttered.

“I’m sorry,” Remus continued. “I don’t know what I– I wasn't…I don't think I would have come back."

Sirius’ breath hitched. “You looked like you had already left us.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, faces close, the cold biting into Sirius’ skin and the last of Remus’ frenzy ebbing away like the tide.

Sirius slowly began to guide them back toward the ledge.

James and Peter were already at the edge, James pulling a blanket from his pack. He crouched down and grabbed Sirius’s arm, hauling him out of the water. Peter offered the enchanted cloak to Remus, who was drifting quietly now in the water. 

“I’m sorry,” Remus finally said hoarsely. “I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t mean to–”

“We’re not angry,” James said quickly, kneeling beside him. “Just worried.”

“We wouldn’t let you go,” Sirius said, breathless as he pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

Peter just stared. “What the hell is happening to you?” 

No one had an answer.

“I’m staying up with him,” Sirius said quietly. 

“We’ll trade off,” James said, nodding. “One of us stays awake, no matter what. I’ll take the next shift.”

Peter glanced between them, then offered a nod of his own. “I’ll take morning.”

At Remus’ insistence, James and Peter eventually fell asleep. Remus tried to sleep, keeping his head above water after Sirius pulled him up every time he started to drift under.

“I’ll restrain you to the wall,” Sirius said sternly after pulling him up a third time. “See how you like it.”

Remus chuckled tiredly. 

“You want to tell me what that was?” he asked gently.

Remus shook his head. “I don’t even know. It’s like…something took over. Like I forgot who I am.”

“Well, don’t,” Sirius said. “Because I know exactly who you are, and you’re not theirs. You’re mine.”

Remus’s eyes flicked to him. Sirius swallowed, then reached out and took his hand.

“Just…stay,” Sirius whispered.

Remus squeezed back. “I’m trying.”

Sirius’s gaze dropped down to their intertwined hands. His brows furrowed.

“Moony,” he said, slowly. 

Remus followed his gaze, and he saw clearly now the bronze scales, small and iridescent, clinging to his skin, spreading down just beneath his wrist. The light caught on their edge. They shimmered, delicate and beautiful and completely wrong.

Remus instinctively yanked his arm back, wrenching his hand from Sirius’. He curled his fingers around his wrist in the water, like if he just squeezed hard enough, he could hide them. Make them go away.

Sirius sat back on his heels, stunned. “Moony,” he said again, more urgently this time. “How long?”

Remus didn’t answer at first. His throat felt tight. His whole body felt foreign.

“Remus.”

“A few days,” Remus finally whispered.

Sirius reeled, eyes wide. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t want to scare you.” Remus wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I didn’t want to scare myself.”

Sirius exhaled like he’d been punched. He dragged a hand back through his still damp hair, visibly trying to keep calm.

“Do you even know what this means?”

“No,” Remus admitted. “But I didn’t need you worrying more than you already do. And I didn’t want you to look at me differently.”

“Merlin, Remus,” Sirius said, low and shaking. “I just watched you try to swim into the bloody lake like something out of your nightmares, and you think I’m going to be scared off by scales? ”

“You should be!” Remus snapped, louder than he meant to. He glanced over at James and Peter, relieved to find them still sleeping. Then, quieting his voice, “I’m scared by them.”

The silence that followed felt heavy.

Remus dropped his head into his hands. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. And I don’t know how to stop it.”

Sirius’s voice was quieter when he spoke again. “I think it’s time you told Dumbledore.”

Remus looked up at him sharply.

“No,” he said, too fast. “Not yet. I just need…more time. To figure it out on my own.”

“You don’t have to do it on your own. First your eyes, now these scales…”

Remus gave him a look.

Sirius leaned forward, bending now to be closer to Remus’ eyesight from the water. “I mean it, Moony. We’ve been through a lot together this year. I’m not going anywhere.”

Remus stared at him, and for a second, it felt like the world slowed down. His heart thudded, tired and sore. The ache wasn’t just in his body. It was in how Sirius looked at him, like he was something both breakable and brave.

Sirius reached out, gripping Remus’s chin, and pulled him up. He pressed his lips gently, quietly to Remus’, before letting go and letting Remus float back down into the water.

“You’re completely mental,” Remus finally said, but his cheeks were flushed from the gentle kiss.

“I did just jump into freezing water for you,” Sirius pointed out with a small grin. Remus gave him a small smile back.

They sat in silence for a while, the quiet punctuated by the soft lapping of water and the occasional rustle as one of the others shifted in their sleep. The cave had settled into stillness, the kind that felt sacred, like it was holding its breath for them.

Sirius rubbed his arms beneath the blanket around his shoulders, eyes still flicking toward the pool every few seconds, like he couldn’t stop checking that Remus was still there.

“You should try to get some sleep,” Sirius said softly. “You need it.”

Remus exhaled, low and tired. “I’ll try.”

“But–” Sirius added, with a slight arch of his brow, “maybe keep your head above the water? Just so I know you haven’t gone wandering off into the depths again.”

Remus gave him a flat look. “You think I’m going to try that again after you nearly gave yourself frostbite dragging me back?”

“Depends,” Sirius said lightly. “Are you still hearing voices?”

Remus didn’t answer. Instead, he let his eyes flicker down toward the waterline, then back to Sirius. “You’re not seriously considering tying me up, are you?”

Sirius smirked faintly. “Well, Incarcerous did work surprisingly well on me last time…”

Remus rolled his eyes and shot him a half-hearted glare. “Try it, and I’ll drown you.”

Sirius just gave him a grin.

Then, without a word, Remus reached up and offered his hand. Sirius blinked, but didn’t hesitate. He leaned forward, laced their fingers together tightly, and held on.

“I’ll keep you right here,” he murmured.

“I know,” Remus said, barely above a whisper.

He shifted, letting his weight tip slightly so his free arm rested on the rocky ledge of the pool. His head followed, cheek pillowed on his forearm, hair damp and curling at the temples. His tail floated just below the surface, flicking now and then, glowing bronze in the dim light. 

Sirius kept their hands joined between them, thumb tracing small circles over Remus’ knuckles. Grounding him.

Guarding him.

Remus didn’t speak again, but he didn’t need to. His eyes slid slowly shut, tension easing from his shoulders, and his breaths finally evened out.

He slept with his head above water.

And Sirius never once let go.

Chapter Text

Remus hadn’t planned to tell Dumbledore. He just wanted to get through the holidays, keep his sleeves long, and deal with the scales later. But after the full moon, after nearly vanishing into the lake, he knew he couldn’t ignore it.

So he told him.

He told Dumbledore everything. About the dreams, and how they’d started as fleeting visions, had grown longer, more vivid. About Lira, the girl he wasn’t sure was just a dream. About Vodyanoy that watched her. Watched him. About how the pull of the water had become unbearable. And finally, about the scales that had started appearing just before the full moon and had been slowly spreading along his arms since.

Dumbledore had listened, expression unreadable. He hadn’t interrupted once. When Remus finally finished, the old wizard had folded his hands on his desk and said only, “You were right to come. I suspect this is more than mere transformation. Perhaps a reckoning.”

Remus wanted to know what he meant, but Dumbledore encouraged him to get through the Christmas season, and they would discuss before the first full moon of the new year.

Remus left the Headmaster’s office feeling colder than when he entered.

He didn’t tell the others everything. He just said he’s spoken to Dumbledore, and that nothing was certain yet, and that he just wanted to make it to Christmas without any more drama. The others respected that. Peter nodded awkwardly and offered to fetch some chocolate. James gave him a look like he wanted to ask a dozen questions, but he didn’t. Sirius though, pulled him aside after and said quietly, “You’re not alone in this, Moony. Even if Dumbledore isn’t doing anything, I’ve got you, okay?”

He meant it. Sirius was the only one who knew about the spreading scales. He’d seen them again a few days ago, faint bronze gleaming along Remus’ forearms when his sleeves bunched up, spreading down to his wrists. Since then, Sirius had taken to brushing his fingers gently across the skin there when they were alone, like he was memorizing the pattern. His touches never felt like fear. Only reverence. 

Still, Remus kept them hidden. It helped that December’s cold allowed for extra layers.

But Lily wasn’t so easily fooled.

She’d been practically living in the library lately, head bent over old tomes of magical folklore. Remus had wandered in one afternoon to find her hunched over an enormous book, her fingers tracing the faded ink of an illustration.

“You’ll go blind at that angle,” he said, sliding into the seat across from her. 

Lily didn’t even glance up. “Did you know some of these folktales predate Hogwarts? Some are from druidic oral traditions, recorded in runes and translated later.”

“Sounds incredibly reliable.”

Her lips twitched. “I found one that reminded me of what you described. It’s not much. A nameless maiden disappears from a village near a dark lake. Afterwards, villagers report seeing a creature in the water with her likeness. But over the years, she changes. Becomes less like the girl they knew. More like something else.”

“No name?” Remus asked, heart thudding.

Lily shook her head. “Just ‘the girl by the water.’ But… I don’t know. You said your dreams feel old. Ancient. And this legend’s been referenced in at least three texts that I’ve found so far. One of them has a sketch.”

She turned the page, revealing a crude charcoal drawing of a long, sinuous tail and a woman’s face that was half-obscured by tangled dark hair.

Remus stared at it.

He couldn’t be sure that it was her. But the shape of the fins, the curvature of the tail, it was familiar. 

“I think this is her,” Remus murmured. “Lira.” 

He didn’t notice the approaching footsteps until it was too late.

“Oh,” said a slow, oily voice. “Isn’t this cozy.”

Remus turned just as Severus Snape strolled into their aisle, black eyes narrowing as he took in the book on the table. His lips curled.

“Researching bedtime stories, are we?”

Lily stiffened. “What do you want, Sev?”

“Oh, don’t mind me. I was simply wondering what fascinating secrets you two were whispering about, seeing as how you both clammed up the moment I walked over.”

Remus forced a smile. “Maybe we just didn't want to share our soap with you.”

Snape ignored him. His eyes flicked from the book to Lily, and then down again. He stopped. His gaze landed on Remus’ wrist.

Remus followed his line of sight – and froze.

His sleeve had slipped. Just slightly, but enough. A patch of scales shimmered faintly near the edge of his sleeve, bronze in the low light.

Snape’s eyes widened just a fraction. Then a slow, knowing smirk curved across his mouth.

“Well. That’s…interesting.”

Remus yanked his sleeve down, heartbeat thundering.

Lily’s intake of breath was sharp, but she said nothing. Not with Snape there.

Snape gave them both one last long look, first the book, then Remus. And then turned on his heel.

When he was gone, Lily rounded on him.

“Remus.”

He didn’t meet her eyes. “It’s nothing.”

“Don’t you dare,” she snapped, voice low and furious. “How long?”

“A few weeks,” he admitted.

Lily stood, slamming the book shut. “You should’ve told me.”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“You think not telling me is better? What if he figures it out? What if he tells someone?”

“I’ll deal with it,” Remus said, finally meeting her eyes. “I told Dumbledore.”

Lily looked stricken. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

He hesitated. “I didn’t want to admit it. Sirius is the only one that knows about the scales.”

They stood there for a beat, silence stretching between them.

Lily sighed, rubbing her temples. “We need to find out what’s happening to you. Before it gets worse. What did Dumbledore say?”

“He wants to wait until after Christmas,” he explained.

Lily just stared at him, mouth parted slightly. “He’s doing nothing?”

“It’s not…nothing, exactly,” he said. “Just, nothing yet.”

Lily’s jaw tightened. “Well, I’m not waiting. Is there anything else?”

“My eyes,” he admitted. “They’ve…lightened.” Lily glanced up at him, really searching his eyes.

“Oh, Remus,” she nearly whispered. 

Then she took a deep breath, and steeled her back. 

Her jaw tightened. “Well, I’m not waiting.”

She turned back to the tome, flipped it open with a sharp thud, pages rustling. Remus stood beside her, sleeves pulled tight over his wrists, pretending not to notice the way they itched beneath the wool.

He didn’t say it out loud, but he was grateful. Terrified, but grateful.

The boys’ bathroom on the fourth floor had flooded overnight. Water sloshed down the corridor like it had been summoned, thick and slow and silent. No busted pipe. No sign of a leak. Just a mirror cracked clean through, the torches damp and sputtering, and the floor slick with icy water that refused to drain. 

Remus stared at the chaos from behind the safety of the crowd. Professors flitted in and out, casting spells and muttering about “plumbing enchantments gone wrong.” It was just enough of an explanation to satisfy the students. Most drifted away after a few minutes. 

Remus didn’t. 

The scent of it was wrong. Not mildew or rusted metal. It was lakewater. He would recognize it anywhere.

He felt it again, that pull. Like something inside his chest twisting toward the lake’s heart. It rose every time he passed a window, every time he caught the scent of wet stone or salt or algae. He’d been able to hold it back for days now, but it was getting harder. Especially when he was alone. 

But he wasn’t alone.

Sirius had caught up to him silently, as always. He leaned beside him against the wall, shoulder brushing Remus’. A jolt ran through Remus’ bones at the contact, warm and tethering. 

He let out a deep breath.

“That’s not normal, is it?” Sirius asked, voice low. “No one wants to say it, but that wasn’t a pipe thing.”

“I don’t know,” Remus said carefully. “Magic misfires all the time. Especially in older parts of the castle.”

Sirius didn’t answer right away. His gaze flicked toward the water. “Just feel like everything’s shifting lately.”

Remus looked at him sharply. “You feel it, too?”

Sirius met his eyes. There was a moment, one of those strange, wordless ones where time slowed and everything else disappeared. “No. Not like you do. But I see how you react to it.” 

They didn’t touch, not really. But Sirius’s hand lingered at his side, close enough to brush if Remus leaned just slightly. And he wanted to. He always wanted to.

Behind them, a voice broke the silence.

“Fitting,” Snape said coolly, arms folded as he passed.

Snape’s eyes slid toward the puddles on the floor, then back to Remus. “Enjoying the water, are we, Lupin?”

His tone was mild. Barely a statement. But the meaning beneath it made Remus’ skin crawl.

Sirius bristled beside him, taking a step forward, but Remus caught his arm.

“Bit tired of seeing your face recently, Snivellus,” Remus responded, rolling his eyes.

Snape’s lip curled, but he walked away, as if satisfied with planting a seed.

They didn’t talk about it right away. Sirius had left Snape’s comment slide, for now, but the way his jaw was clenched said enough. And Remus hadn’t said anything either, because saying something would mean admitting that the words had hit their mark.

Because he did look like someone who belonged in the water. Because sometimes, when he caught his reflection lately, he wasn’t sure whose bronze eyes were looking back at him anymore.

They were walking back from dinner when Sirius finally broke the silence.

“You don’t really think he knows, do you?” His voice was low, casual in that way that meant it absolutely wasn’t.

Remus rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I’m trying to be careful. But he’s… observant.”

Sirius scoffed. “He’s also a smug git who likes playing games.”

“He noticed the scales on my arm the other day,” Remus said quietly.

Sirius stopped walking.

Remus kept going for a step before realizing he was alone, then turned.

“I don’t like this,” Sirius said. “The lake pulling at you. The dreams. And now Snape sniffing around. It’s too much all at once.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.” Sirius caught up to him again, his tone sharp with frustration. “Because you’re not acting like someone being hunted. You’re acting like you just want to disappear.”

That stopped Remus.

“I’m not,” he said, too fast. “I don’t. I just–”

He broke off. He couldn’t finish the sentence.

Sirius stared at him, eyes burning. “Tell me the truth.” 

Remus couldn’t meet his gaze. “It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is,” Sirius said. “Either you’re here, with us…with me. Or you’re drifting away. Which is it?”

Remus was quiet for a long moment, standing in the middle of the corridor, students brushing past without a glance.

“I don’t know if I can always choose.”

Sirius stepped closer, close enough that Sirius could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. “Then I’ll choose for you,” he said fiercely. “I’m choosing you. Here. And I’ll keep choosing you as many times as it takes.”

Remus’ throat tightened.

“That’s not fair,” he said hoarsely. “You can’t keep–”

“Yes, I can.” Sirius’s hand brushed against his, knuckles grazing. “I will . Unless succumbing to that bloody lake is truly what you want.”

Remus closed his eyes. 

“I don’t want that,” he finally said.

“Then it’s settled,” Sirius said. “You’re not going anywhere.”

The water opened for him like it always did, welcoming and strange. There was no pain in the transformation, no tearing of skin, no break in bone. Just a slow, syruppy surrender. For once, Remus was himself.

He swam deep into the lake, which glowed with soft pulses of bioluminescent blue. Shadows curled around him, watching him, waiting for him.

In the distance, a woman’s silhouette, pale against the dark. He took in the deep green of the scales of her tail, scales that trailed across her entire body, some even reaching up her neck and a few on her cheeks.

He knew her.

She reached for him. “You came back.”

Her voice was a musical echo in the water, soft and resonant like the currents. The longing in her voice clawed at something inside him. He wanted to speak. To ask who she was. 

But the words never came.

Her arms wrapped around him. It wasn’t cruel, but like she was claiming him.

“It’s almost time,” she whispered.

Chapter Text

The castle was quiet as the holidays approached. It was the last day before the official commencement of the Christmas holidays. Most of the students had already left or were preparing to go, the common rooms and corridors thinning out. Snow drifted lazily past the arched windows, and in the still, the castle’s bones seemed to creak.

Remus had been on edge all morning. The pull hadn’t faded. His sleeves clung too tightly to his wrists, the sensitive patches of growing scales prickling beneath the wool. Sirius had noticed, of course. He always did.

Remus tried to pretend that the empty corridors meant peace. Solitude. Breathing room. It meant that he was alone.

Except that he wasn’t.

He felt it before he saw anything – an odd sensation, like a pressure shift in the air. It held a magical signature that was familiar, but wrong, like something sour. 

He rounded a corner near the deserted fifth-floor Astronomy wing.

And then he froze.

Severus Snape was waiting at the end of the hall, wand already out, with a small vial in his hand. The air around Snape shifted and gleamed unnaturally in the corridor’s torchlight.

Remus’ stomach turned.

“What the hell is this?”

Snape’s lips curled. “Oh, just a little experiment. I thought perhaps you’d be interested in helping me test the results.”

Remus’ voice was low. “I’m not in the mood for one of your schemes.”

“I imagine not. The tides are strong today, aren’t they?”

That stopped him cold.

Snape flicked his hand and the small glass vial shattered near his feet. Immediately the scent of the potion hit him, metallic and acrid. The floor tilted, and Remus’s legs buckled.

The pull he had been feeling all day suddenly came onto him brutally. He staggered sideways, bracing himself against the wall.

No. No, not here.

Snape’s spell wasn’t a curse, it was a call.

“You see,” Snape began, “I always thought you were a bit odd, but nothing was adding up.”

Remus’ body began to betray him. His throat tightened as the air around him thinned. He could hear the rush of invisible water in his ears, and panic surged.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he choked out.

“Oh, but I do,” Snape murmured. “You’re not the only one who reads obscure magical theory. You think I didn’t notice your…affinity for water? The way you react to elemental potions? The scales on your arms? Thankfully, Mulciber’s inability in potions during that Tidewater Draught was what I needed to prove some theories. Despite his incompetence, his incorrect notes were exactly correct to replicate a magical tidal reaction. Just had to make it a bit stronger.”

“You’re insane,” Remus hissed, but his knees hit the ground hard. His fingers dug into the stone.

“Prove it, then. Stay human.”

But the transformation was already happening. His legs burned as they pulled together, ripping right through his trousers. His gills were opening on his ribs, rubbing painfully against his shirt.

Snape stepped closer, slowly circling. “You should thank me, Lupin. I’m giving you the chance to show everyone what you are. Isn’t it exhausting? Pretending?”

Remus wanted to scream, to lunge at him, but his arms were shaking with the effort of the transformation. 

Then–

“Remus?”

The voice was sharp. Sirius.

And suddenly he was there, the curtain of panic breaking like glass as he dropped to his knees beside Remus, one hand gripping his shoulder, the other catching him under the arm.

Sirius’ eyes darted over him, taking in the way his legs had fused together, the shimmer of scales now spreading slightly above the collar of his shirt. A new development.

“What the hell did you do?” Sirius roared, turning on Snape with deadly rage.

Snape didn’t flinch. “I simply brought the truth to the surface.”

“Expelliarmus!”

Snape’s wand flew from his hand with a crack. Sirius stood between him and Remus now, a shield of pure fury.

“Touch him again, and I’ll end you.”

Sirius dropped again, crouching low, hands firm on Remus’s face. “Stay with me, Moony. Hey, look at me.” His voice cracked at the edge, hoarse with fear. “You’re not alone. You hear me? I’m here.”

He was shaking. Not from fear, but helpless rage. 

Remus blinked. Sirius’ face was the only solid thing around him, the world having gone blurry and wrong from the pain of a dry transformation. 

His legs were gone now, fully replaced by his long tail, twitching weakly against the stone floor, and his pants in ripped shreds beneath him. He felt like he could barely breathe with his gills suffocating around the cotton of his shirt. Each inhale rasped like broken glass.

“I knew it,” Snape whispered to himself.

Sirius’ hands slid from his cheeks to cradle the back of his head as Remus slumped forward, too weak to hold himself upright.

“Remus,” Sirius murmured, brow furrowed with panic. “You’re stuck. Oh god, you’re– fuck, it’s okay. We’ll…we’ll fix this. We’ll figure it out.”

Behind them, Snape lingered in stunned silence, face pale with something that wasn’t quite satisfaction. Sirius stood, slow and deliberate, never taking his eyes off of Remus.

“Leave,” he growled, voice low and dangerous. “Now.”

Snape hesitated, just for a moment, but the fury burning in Sirius’ voice was enough. He backed away without another word, disappearing into the corridor’s shadows.

Silence fell. 

The only sound was Remus’ rasping breath and the faint, unnatural shift of his tail scraping the floor. 

“No,” Remus gasped, voice cracking with disbelief. “No– no, not again.”

His tail thrashed uselessly against the floor, muscles spasming as he tried to push himself upright.

“This can’t be happening again,” he choked. “I was fine. I didn’t feel it coming on– he must have made that potion stronger. Sirius, I can’t– I can’t be stuck like this, not here–”

His breath hitched, panic swelling in his chest. There was no lake, no water to hide in, nothing to soothe the ache in his lungs or cool the burning tightness across his skin. Just the air, dry and heavy.

Sirius dropped to his knees beside him again. “Moony. Remus, hey, listen to me. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

But Remus shook his head, his curls damp with sweat, jaw clenched. “It’s not okay,” he said. “You don’t– this is a nightmare. If someone sees me, I’m done, I’m–”

His whole body trembled, tail still twitching feebly behind him, helpless on the stone.

Sirius' expression twisted. “Okay. Right. We’re not staying here.” He glanced down the corridor, then looked back. “I’m getting you out of here.”

Before Remus could argue, Sirius reached under his arms, gripping Remus with both hands.

“What are you–?”

“Hold on to me,” Sirius muttered. “It’s not going to be comfortable, but we’ll manage.”

He started dragging him toward the nearest door, an unused classroom at the end of the hall. 

“Stop. Sirius, wait. What if someone sees?”

“No one’s out,” Sirius panted, half-hauling him with his arms wrapped beneath his shoulders. “It’s late. And we need to get you out of the open.”

Remus made a weak noise of protest, humiliated and scared, but he let himself be pulled.

The door creaked open and Sirius dragged him inside, kicking it shut behind them. The room was dark and empty, long-abandoned desks stacked in the corner. Dust floated in the moonlight streaming through the tall windows. Sirius maneuvered Remus to the side of the room and helped him sit up against the wall.

Remus slumped there, tail laid out in front of him, arms trembling with fatigue, chest heaving and heart hammering.

Sirius got up, casting a spell to lock the door, and joined Remus on the floor.

“I hate this,” he whispered. “I hate it, Sirius. I can’t– I’m so tired of being afraid of my own body.”

Sirius didn’t respond immediately, likely not knowing what to say. “Let’s get this off, right?” Sirius reached out a hand, pulling at the bottom of Remus’ sweater, pulling it up his chest. Remus complied, and Sirius worked it over his head, then unbuttoned his white shirt underneath before pushing it off his shoulders.

His gills felt immediately better, but he was still struggling to breathe properly. He closed his eyes, and tried to calm his racing heart.

“Snape knows,” Remus finally said.

“Well then let him know,” Sirius said, voice low and furious once again. “Let him try to say something. Greasy little coward–”

Remus’ breath stuttered and Sirius cut himself off.

“Just breathe, Moony,” he said instead. “Please. Just breathe.” Sirius shifted beside him, hands braced on his knees. He looked like he was warring with himself, jaw tense, gaze darting between the door and Remus’ face.

“I need to get help,” he said quietly. “Lily or Pomfrey or…someone who can undo this.”

“No.” Remus’ voice was sharp and quick. His hands shot out, fingers curling weakly around Sirius’ wrist. “No, you can’t– you can’t leave me like this.”

“Moony–”

“I can’t move,” Remus said, voice rising with a raw edge of renewed panic. “I can barely crawl. If someone comes in here, if Snape comes back, I can’t do anything.”

Sirius looked down at his hand, then back up at Remus. “I wouldn’t let that happen.”

“You wouldn’t be here,” Remus snapped, but immediately regretted it. “Sorry, I just– I’m stuck.” He felt exposed, inhuman, and terrifyingly helpless.

“Please,” he whispered. “Don’t leave me.”

Sirius’ expression broke. All of his fire gave way to something softer.

“Alright,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He shifted closer, wrapping an arm around Remus’ back, pulling him gently in. “I’ll stay,” he murmured. “I’ll stay as long as you need. Just…breathe, okay?”

Remus leaned into him, and shut his eyes, breathing in Sirius’ familiar scent.

“We’ll figure this out. I promise.” Sirius’ voice was a low hum in his ear.

Even though Sirius had magically sealed the door with a locking harm, he kept casting glances at it, as if expecting someone to come barreling through it anyway.

Remus lay on the floor, tail spread out in front of him, breathing shallowly, skin already starting to dry out. His gills were fluttering intermittently, useless in the open air, and his throat ached with every breath.

“It’s starting to hurt,” he croaked, eyes fluttering shut.

Sirius’s wand hand twitched, then steadied.

“Aguamenti,” he whispered.

A fine cool mist arched gently from the tip of his wand, and Sirius moved slowly, carefully, casting the water over Remus’ skin. As soon as it touched him, Remus exhaled, a long, low sound of relief. The ache in his lungs dulled almost immediately, the burning on his skin easing as moisture soaked into his scales, his gills, his hair.

“Better?” Sirius asked.

Remus nodded. “Merlin, yeah…”

Sirius remained crouched beside him, wand still in hand. He continued casting the cooling must every few minutes, eyes tracking Remus.

“The prefect’s bathroom is on this floor,” Sirius suggested softly. “It’s a bit far, but if we can find James or Lily…”

“It’s fine,” Remus said, resting his head against the wall, eyes shut tight. “It doesn’t even matter at this point.”

Time dragged on thickly. No sounds came from the hall. Remus’ body stayed the exact same, no hint of legs returning, no shift back. Just the same bronze tail below him.

“I don’t think it’s going away,” Remus murmured after a long while.

Sirius looked at him with something unreadable in his eyes.

“It will. Eventually. It always does.”

Remus huffed a humorless breath. “Yeah. Eventually. When it’s decided I’ve suffered enough or something.”

Sirius reached out slowly and brushed a lock of hair from Remus’ forehead.

“I know this isn’t an ideal situation, but you’re really beautiful like this.”

Remus scoffed. “Don’t.”

“I mean it. I’ve never lied to you about this,” he said. “Not once. You think this is freakish, but it’s not. It’s part of you. And honestly, it’s really beautiful.”

Sirius leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn’t a brush of lips. It was Sirius, fierce and honest, mouth claiming Remus like he had every right to, as if he could push his feelings toward him into the kiss.

Remus gasped into him, breath hitching, hands scrabbling instinctively for purchase, finding Sirius’s shoulder, his sleeve, his hair.

The kiss deepened. Sirius’s hand cupped the side of his neck, thumb stroking the line of his jaw. Their mouths slotted together perfectly, tongues brushing, and Remus whimpered. A real sound, low and desperate.

When they broke apart, Sirius was breathing heavily.

Then he shifted his weight to move closer, his foot brushing against the fluke of Remus’s tail.

Remus jerked, letting out a startled moan. His whole body twitched.

Sirius froze, blinking. He looked down, a smile beginning to spread on his mouth as he realized.

“Oh?” he said.

“Sirius–”

Sirius did it again, dragging his foot slowly along that sensitive spot near the ridged edge of the fluke, and Remus’s head fell back against the wall.

“Sirius, fuck–”

Sirius grinned. “Almost forgot about how sensitive that bit was.”

“You’re impossible.”

But Remus was breathless now, panting lightly, pulse thudding in his ears. Sirius moved again, one leg sliding over Remus’ tail now, straddling him gently. His kisses turned hungry, hands pressing into Remus’s chest, mouth finding a spot under his jaw that made Remus groan.

“I swear to God,” Remus said. “You are evil.”

Sirius chuckled again, lips dragging along the edge of his jaw. “You’re the one moaning every time I touch this–” He trailed his fingers along the base of Remus’s tail again, expertly finding that patch of sensitivity. He pressed into it, slow and deliberate, and Remus was losing his mind.

He grabbed Sirius’ robes. His hips jerked involuntarily, tail slapping against the floor in a desperate, stuttering rhythm. But there was no friction. Just need, coiled and relentless.

“You know, it’s kind of weird,” Sirius continued casually. “That something can feel this good…” He pressed his hand again, just slightly. Remus shuddered. “And still, your magical fish tail forgot to include a way for some kind of release.”

Remus choked on a breathless laugh, head tipping back against the wall. “Don’t joke,” he hissed, even as his lips twitched. “I’m going to drown you.”

“You say that every time,” Sirius said, grinning. “And yet, here I am. Being very patient and understanding and kind to my poor stranded merman boyfriend who is clearly going through it.”

Remus huffed, eyes fluttering shut as he tried to ride out the wave of overstimulation. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Sirius said smugly, trailing one finger down his side again. “You just hate that I know exactly where to touch you to make you lose your mind.”

“Which is evil,” Remus muttered, but his voice was already starting to soften, tremble.

“Sure, sure,” Sirius murmured, removing his hand, finally, from his tail, and leaning in to kiss Remus’s shoulder.

Remus kept his eyes closed, willing his heart to calm down. It wasn’t easy with him still placing kisses along his neck, his jaw and his shoulders, but this was bearable.

“Is that what you are?” Remus finally asked, voice husky.

“Hm?” Sirius asked, not bothering to remove his lips from Remus’ skin.

“My boyfriend,” he clarified, opening his eyes to look at Sirius now. Sirius stilled.

He looked up, searching Remus’ face. He was still straddling him, but he somehow looked uncertain.

“I mean,” he started, not fully meeting his gaze. “I was just– If that’s not what you want–”

“I want,” Remus replied, grabbing Sirius’ hips now and pulling him closer. “I do want that.”

Sirius smiled then, full and grinning. “Yeah?”

Remus nodded, smiling back at him, and pulled him in for another kiss. This was different from the frantic heavy kisses only moments earlier. This was one slow and full of promise.

They were both so distracted by the other that neither of them heard the jiggle of a door handle and the calm “Alohomora” from the other side of it.

Only the light now coming in from the hallway caused them both to break apart.

“Oh,” said a deep voice. Sirius gasped, pulled back from Remus, but angled his body in a vain attempt to cover as much of Remus’ tail as possible.

“Sorry about that, Lupin. Black. I just– I heard—” Callum was standing in the doorway, eyes wide, cheeks turning an intense scarlet.

“Callum,” Remus said in a hoarse voice, partially mortified at the position that he’d caught them in, partially relieved that it was only Callum, someone who already knew about him. He wasn’t sure he could handle being exposed to someone else after the encounter with Snape. “Can you get Pomfrey?”

“P-Pomfrey,” he stuttered, his gaze bouncing from Remus’ fin to the place where Sirius was still sitting on Remus’ lap. “Right. Yeah. I can do that.”

He just stood there in silence for another moment staring. Sirius slowly began crawling off of Remus, as if the slower he went, the less damning it was for them both.

“Now, Callum,” Remus repeated.

“Right, yeah, I’m going,” he said, turning away from the two boys, closing the door behind him.

Chapter Text

Madam Pomfrey had arrived within minutes of Callum’s flustered retreat, muttering something under her breath about “idiotic boys” and “increasingly creative magical mishaps.” Thankfully, whatever potion Snape had used hadn’t bound the transformation too deeply. Pomfrey had seen to Remus’ tail with a counter-serum and a quick spell, and within a half hour, he had his legs again.

Still, the discomfort lingered in Remus’ joints from a dry transformation, and even more so in his pride. Pomfrey hadn’t asked too many questions, only giving Remus one of her long, knowing looks before conjuring a warm blanket and cloak and telling him to get some rest.

Callum, for his part, didn’t say much. As Pomfrey tended to Remus’ tail, he explained that he’d been doing his rounds as Head Boy when he heard voices coming from a classroom he knew wasn’t used. “And that’s when I saw them in here,” he said, “and went to find you.” Thankfully, he left it at that.

He kept his distance at first, fidgeting awkwardly by the wall, arms crossed and brow furrowed like he was still trying to piece together what he’d walked in on. But when Pomfrey asked someone to help Remus back to Gryffindor Tower, he stepped forward without hesitation. 

Sirius was already at Remus’ side, pacing like a caged thing, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He hovered while Callum steadied Remus, helping him into the cloak and carefully draping his arm across his shoulders.

They moved through the halls, the stone corridors echoing with their footfalls. Sirius walked close, perhaps a little too close, like he couldn’t decide whether to stay back or shove Callum aside and carry Remus himself.

When they reached the empty common room, Callum paused by the fire, helping Remus ease onto the nearest couch. He stepped back, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

Remus looked up at him, still pale but grateful. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “For… everything.”

Callum met his eyes, then glanced, just for a moment, at Sirius, who stood a pace behind, arms crossed, jaw tight. Something flickered across Callum’s face. Not judgment or shock, but just… understanding, maybe. 

“You’re welcome,” he said. Then, after a small pause. “And for what it’s worth… you don’t have to explain anything. Not to me.”

Remus’ throat bobbed with the weight of words he didn’t know how to say. Sirius didn’t move.

Callum turned toward the stairwell, then looked back over his shoulder. “Happy Christmas,” he said simply. “To both of you.”

And then he was gone.

The silence left in his wake was strange and full of static. Remus sank further into the cushions, eyes fixed on the fire. Sirius stood there a moment longer, unmoving, before finally stepping forward and settling beside him.

“Do you think he’ll tell anyone?” Sirius asked after a moment, voice low.

“No,” Remus said without hesitation. “I don’t.”

Sirius nodded slowly. Then, without a word, reached for Remus’ hand and held it there in the quiet.

They left for Christmas break the next day.

Remus returned to St. Ives with his mother, their cottage perched above the cold, grey Cornish sea. It was quieter in December. The air was briny and sharp, and the sound of gulls flying overhead felt oddly grounding after weeks of tension at Hogwarts.

He went swimming only once. The sea was vicious in December, churning with dark waves and biting cold. Still, something in him itched. A tug in his muscles that wasn’t the lake’s pull, but something older and simpler. A natural call to the water. So, just after dawn, he slipped away from the cottage, padded barefoot across the damp sand, and let the icy surf take him with an enchanted cloak around his shoulders.

The transformation came easily.

The ocean, though bitter, didn’t fight him. It didn’t press into his mind like the lake, didn’t whisper ancient things he couldn’t understand. Instead, it welcomed him as it would any creature made for its depths. His bronze tail shimmered in the weak morning light as he swam just below the surface, letting the current carry him, his body slicing through the swell with a grace that came to him effortlessly.

And for the first time in weeks, maybe even months, he felt calm.

There were no dreams that night. No phantom calls in the dark. No whispering from mysterious mermaids. His sleep was still and whole. Even the ache in his bones, that constant hum of magical imbalance that had been simmering beneath the lake, seemed to quiet.

The next morning, when he studied himself in the mirror, he noticed something else.

Some of the small scales that had begun to appear along his arms and trace up the sides of his neck, the ones he had tried to scrub away in frustration, were fading. It was as though the salt and sea had begun to wash away whatever the lake had left behind.

Even his eyes appeared a deeper brown.

He didn’t know what that meant. But it felt like a reprieve.

Still, the unease hadn’t left entirely. Because the lake would still be there, and he knew it was waiting for him to return to Hogwarts. He knew that it wouldn’t forget. 

A letter arrived from Sirius on the third day.

Moony,

God, I still want to hex Snivellus into the floor. I keep replaying it, the way he looked at you like he had something over you. Makes me sick. You should’ve told Pomfrey. 

Also…Callum. I’m not mad exactly. He didn’t laugh or flinch. But he saw us. I’ve barely wrapped my head around it all myself and now someone else knows. 

It’s different with him than with James and Pete. And the way Pete reacted when he found about you doesn’t give a lot of confidence about telling them about this. About us.

I don’t know if I’m ready for them to know yet.

Are you?

– Sirius.

Remus wrote back that evening, the parchment smudged with ash from the fire:

Sirius,

Callum won’t tell. He’s never been cruel. Just curious. But I get it. He saw more than I ever expected anyone to see. That moment wasn’t supposed to be for anyone else.

Do you think it’s strange? That Callum knows about us before James and Peter?

I don’t know why, but feels a bit wrong.

I keep thinking about telling them. But then I imagine James making some awful jokes, and Peter going quiet, and the whole thing makes me feel a bit uncomfortable. I’m not sure they’d look at us the same. 

I trust them, but not yet. Maybe that’s selfish of me, but the thought of them looking at us differently…looking at you differently. I don’t want you to go through that. Not until we’re both ready.

Remus

Remus,

It’s not cowardice. It’s choosing peace where we can find it.

James and Peter…they’re good. They’ve always been good. But they still live in a world where everything has a neat label. A box to shove things into. I don’t know what box we fit into. I don’t know how to label what I feel when I look at you and when I touch you.

But I know that it’s real. 

You’re mine, and I’m yours, and that’s enough for me right now.

We don’t owe anyone anything we’re not ready to give. 

We’ve created something quiet and a bit reckless. And honestly, messy as hell sometimes. But it’s ours.

And I’m not sure I’m ready to let anyone else try to name it.

Happy Christmas,

Sirius

P.S. If I don’t get a Christmas card from you, I’m never kissing you again.

Christmas day in St. Ives dawned grey and drizzly. Remus had risen early again, padding down the narrow staircase in wool socks and one of his most worn jumpers. The sitting room smelled faintly of cinnamon and smoke, the remnants of his mum’s holiday tea and the fire she’d already lit in the grate.

She was sitting in her armchair, knees pulled up under a thick knitted blanket, a mug of tea cradled in her hands. When she looked up and saw him, her face softened.

“Merry Christmas, love.”

“Merry Christmas,” Remus murmured, and made his way to the couch, curling into the corner opposite her. He rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly. The fire crackled.

They sat in quiet for a while, the kind of quiet that had always lived between them. Not cold, exactly, but always distant. She had never quite known what to do with the magic in him, both wizard and mer. 

But she didn’t look at him like that now. Just sipped her tea.

“You used to get up before the sun on Christmas,” she said eventually, smiling into her mug. “You father and I could hardly keep you in bed past five.”

Remus huffed a soft laugh. “Hard to believe, I know.”

“Your father would get so cross. Said he needed more than three hours of sleep to put the train set together.”

He glanced over at the old toy train, still neatly boxed on the sideboard. “You kept it?”

“Of course,” her tone was quiet. “You loved it so much as a boy.” She got up from her chair, sitting down on the couch next to Remus, and placed a warm hand against Remus’ cheek. “Always my sweet boy.”

“Always your weird boy.”

Hope didn’t laugh, but her lips curled into a small smile. “You’ve always been a little weird,” she said gently. “Even before.”

She adjusted her position on the couch to sit close to him, and put her arm around his shoulders. Her hand moved up, bruising his hair back from his temple. “But you’ll always be my boy.”

The words made his throat tighten. For a moment, he didn’t trust himself to speak. So instead, he rested his head against her shoulder, let himself be hed like he hadn’t let himself be in years.

The fire popped, casting soft shadows across the room. Outside, the sea sang against the cliffs. Later on, the wind picked up outside, rattling the windows with salt-slicked gusts from the sea. Remus sat at a small writing desk in the corner of his room, wrapped in his thick jumper. His fingers were warm around the mug of tea Hope had brought to him without comment. 

Remus was surprised to see that the scales that had bloomed on his arms and beck had begun to fade into old skin. The pull of the Black Lake was quiet and dormant. He felt more like himself.

And now in the glow of the holiday and with Hope downstairs cleaning up from a small meal, he picked up his quill once again and began to write.

Dear Sirius,

Happy Christmas.

Mum cooked a warm meal for just the two of us. She did burn the sprouts but claimed it was intentional. Said that the crisp was a delicious feature, not a flaw, and I didn’t have the heart to argue.

I’ve only gone for a swim once since we got here. The sea’s different. It’s cold and loud, but it doesn’t pull at me like the lake does. If anything, it’s pushed something out. I’m feeling better. Haven’t had any nightmares, and I feel like a part of me is stitching itself back together.

Still…the thought of going back to Hogwarts is making me nervous. It’s strange being away from the lake. I’ve finally begun to feel safe again, but I can’t help but wonder what’s waiting for me once we return.

The first full moon of the year falls on the fifth, which is the day we go back. How’s that for cosmic timing?

If you’re not already busy with the Potters, would you want to come to St.Ives for New Year’s? Mum wouldn’t mind. I’d like to see you. And you can finally get a chance to see the ocean, even if it’s the dead of winter.

Stay warm and write soon.

Yours,

Remus

Sirius’ reply arrived two days later, tied in a tight green ribbon, parchment slightly crumpled as if he’d written it in a rush.

Moony,

Happy (belated) Christmas. I would’ve written sooner, but James’s little cousins mistook my wand for a chew toy and I’ve been hiding from holiday madness in the loo ever since.

I’m glad the ocean’s helping. I like the idea of you swimming without looking over your shoulder and that you feel safe (And I bet your tail looks wicked swimming in the ocean).

As for the full moon, figures. But we’ll manage it, yeah? Same way we always do.

And yes, I’ll be there for New Year’s. You and me on the cliffs, wrapped under a hundred blankets, sneaking some firewhiskey into some cocoa.

I know things still feel heavy and complicated. But when I think about you, it all quiets down. So whatever comes next, we’ll handle it together.

Write if you start spiraling. Or don’t. I’ll be there in a few days either way.

Always,

Padfoot

The sea breeze was sharp on the day of New Year's Eve, tangling through Remus’ hair as he stood at the edge of the harbor, boots scuffing against the cobblestone. He scanned the train platform again. Any minute now.

Then he spotted him.

Sirius, in a dark wool coat and his maroon and gold Gryffindor scarf, hair tousled by the wind and a slight flush in his cheeks from the train ride, strode toward him with that usual, reckless confidence. His trunk hovered just behind him, bumping occasionally against stray patches of sea-washed stone.

Remus smiled, unable to help himself.

“Hey stranger,” he called.

Sirius’ eyes lit up. “Miss me?”

Remus gave a soft laugh, stepping forward. “A little too much.”

They fell into step together without another word, Remus slinging an arm around Sirius’ shoulders as they headed toward the little coastal lane that led to the Lupin cottage. The winter air bit at their cheeks, but Remus didn’t care. He just wanted to keep Sirius close.

When they reached the warm glow of the house, the door creaked open as they walked up.

“There you are,” Hope stood in the doorway, apron tied around her waist and a bit of flour on her cheek. Her eyes crinkled in delight. “Sirius, so happy you made it.”

Sirius grinned. “Always a pleasure, Mrs. Lupin.”

“Oh, stop that. ‘Hope’ will do,” she said, swatting him lightly before pulling him into a soft hug. “I swear, you get more handsome every year. The girls at school must be falling all over themselves.”

Sirius flashed a look toward Remus. “They try,” he said, voice low and teasing. “But I’ve got very specific tastes.”

Remus rolled his eyes and tried to hide the smile tugging at his mouth as Hope laughed.

“Well, come in before you both freeze. Supper’s nearly done and the kettle’s on.”

They stepped inside, the door shutting softly behind them, sealing out the cold as the warmth of the Lupin home wrapped around them. 

The evening passed in warmth, real and emotional. Hope fed them until Sirius groaned and held his stomach dramatically, and the old wireless played a gentle waltz in the background. The sea was dark and calm beyond the windows. Hope turned in early with a smile and a kiss for each of them and strict instructions to not stay up too late.

But of course, they did.

They were curled up together beneath a blanket in the tiny sitting room, the fire reduced to a soft glow. The mantel clock ticked steadily toward midnight. The radio had long since gone to quiet instrumentals, and now the room was filled only with the hush of the tide outside and subtle clink of teacups. 

“How was Christmas with the Potters?” Remus asked, voice quiet.

Sirius gave a small shrug. “Lovely, really. Euphemia made Yorkshire pudding, even though Monty claims to hate it. She forced me and James into matching slippers.”

Remus smiled faintly. But he could sense a bit of hesitation behind his words. “Bet you both looked dashing.”

“I did,” Sirius said, mock-solemn. Then his voice dipped. “It was warm. Loud. Full of food and presents and Monty telling the same stories for the hundredth time while Effie pretended to be surprised. I should be grateful.”

“But?” he prompted gently.

There was a pause. Sirius leaned forward, elbows on his knees, twisting his fingers together. “It’s just… weird. First Christmas away from Grimmauld Place. I’m grateful to be away from them. My parents, I mean. But this was the first Christmas without so much as a letter from Regulus.”

Remus studied him in the firelight. “Do you miss him?”

“Yeah,” Sirius said simply. “He’s still my brother. He’s a right prat, but…” He trailed off, brow furrowing slightly. “You grow up thinking that even if the rest of them hate you, you’ve still got your brother. That there’s some kind of tether. And now it’s just… cut.”

Remus didn’t speak at first. He reached over without a word and slipped his hand into Sirius’. Their fingers laced together, comforting and familiar. 

Sirius gave a soft, bitter laugh. “He probably spent the holiday surrounded by silver and green and little elves. Pretending he’s glad I’m gone.”

“Maybe,” Remus said, squeezing his hand. “But maybe he misses you, too, and doesn’t know how to say it.”

Sirius didn’t say anything else, lost in his own thoughts. Then he leaned his shoulder gently into Remus.

The clock on the mantel chimed once. Then again. Midnight.

In the distance, a few houses echoed with laughter and muffled cheering. Someone on the cliffside road shouted a slurred “Happy New Year!” And from the radio in the corner, the crackling strains of Auld Lang Syne drifted through the room, sung by a soft, faded choir.

Remus felt Sirius shifted closer, his thigh brushing his beneath the blanket. His pulse beat strong and steady beneath Remus’ palm.

“Happy New Year,” Remus said.

Sirius looked at him, eyes dark and open. “Yeah,” he whispered. “You too.”

And then, slowly, he leaned in.

The kiss was soft and sure. Like something they’d both known was coming. It didn’t last long. Just long enough to set Remus’ heart spinning.

When they pulled apart, Sirius rested his forehead lightly against Remus’. “Thanks for inviting me,” he said.

Remus let his eyes fall closed. “I’m glad you’re here.”

The wind stirred outside, the sea breathing its endless rhythm.

They stayed curled together like that long into the night, until the fire burned low and the song faded from the radio, and the New Year began with nothing but quiet and the steady warmth between them. 

The first day of the year broke cold and pale, the morning sky painted in soft lavender and misty blues. Remus woke to the faint sounds of gulls in the distance and the comforting weight of Sirius tucked in close beside him on the small guest bed in his childhood room. At some point in the, Sirius had turned toward him, their foreheads brushing and Remus had stayed still for long minutes, just breathing him in.

By midday, they pulled on wool jumpers and scarves and boots, fingers brushing as they made their way down the winding path toward the sea. The beach was nearly deserted, only a few bundled-up locals strolling along the surf. The wind whipped at their coats, bringing with it the smell of salt. The sky stretched out wide above them, and the ocean itself gleamed like hammered pewter, rippling all the way to the horizon.

Sirius froze at the edge of the dunes.

Remus turned to look at him, only to find Sirius already staring out at the sea like he’d been struck breathless.

“Merlin,” Sirius whispered.

Remus smiled. “Impressive, isn’t it?”

Sirius didn’t answer at first. He took a few steps forward, down onto the damp sand, and then further, right to the place where the waves lapped against his boots. He tilted his head back, wind in his hair, and let out a sound that was almost a laugh.

“It’s just so… big,” Sirius said, wonder threaded through every word. “Like it goes on forever. Is this what it’s like all the time?”

“Pretty much,” Remus said, stepping beside him. “Tide comes in, tide goes out. But it’s always here.”

Sirius turned to him, eyes wide. “And you swim in this?”

Remus nodded. “Feel free to ditch the coat and boots and go for a swim. Might freeze in five minutes, but I’ve heard there are local sea creatures that save beautiful drowning men.”

“Five and a half minutes,” Sirius replied, rolling his eyes. “And as tempting as getting rescued by tall mermen may sound, I think I’ll pass on that today.”

They stood together for a while, watching the waves roll in. Remus’ hand slipped in Sirius’ and neither of them let go.

Then Sirius glanced sideways. “Do you ever get the urge? To just dive in and swim forever? Until you can’t see land?”

Remus exhaled. “Sometimes. It’s different from the lake, though. This feels… safer. Or calmer, somehow. Like it doesn’t want to take anything from me.”

Sirius nodded thoughtfully. “Makes sense. You seem more at peace than I’ve seen you in months.”

A beat passed, and then Sirius perked up again. “I’ve been researching,” he said, voice bright with excitement. “About the Bubble Head Charm. I think I’ve figured out how to tweak it.”

Remus raised a brow. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Sirius turned to him fully now, eyes shining. “So we can talk underwater. I think I can modify the charm so that sound carries properly outside of the bubble.”

Remus felt something warm twist in his chest. “That’s brilliant, Sirius.”

“I just.. I don’t want us to be stuck in silence during our swims. I want you to be able to hear me, too.”

“I’d like that, too,” Remus said quietly.

But the reminder of the lake tugged at his mind again, colder than the wind off the ocean. He looked down, letting Sirius’ words settle inside him.

Sirius watched him carefully. “Your eyes,” he said suddenly. “They’re brown again. Not bronze.”

Remus blinked. “Yeah?”

Sirius nodded, reaching up to gently brush his thumb beneath his eye. “Like before all of… this.”

He pulled back the sleeve of his jumper and showed Sirius the inside of his forearm. Smooth skin, no shimmer, no scales.

Sirius’ breath caught. “Do you think… is it over?”

Remus shook his head. “No. I think it’s just distance from the lake.”

Sirius nodded slowly. “So it’ll come back.”

“Yeah,” Remus said, voice low. “I think so.”

The wind picked up then, rustling their scarves and lifting Sirius’ hair in a soft wave. They stood there a little longer, side by side, the endless sea before them, hands still joined.

Chapter Text

The Hogwarts Express rumbled steadily beneath them as they settled into their compartment, but Sirius’ voice was anything but still.

“I swear, Moony,” he said for what had to be the third time, “I’ve never seen water like that. So big and clear and blue. I didn’t even know the sea could shimmer like that.”

Remus smiled faintly, head tilted against the cool window. “It’s the salt. Or the sun. Or the fact that you wouldn’t stop sprinting in and out of it by the shore.”

Sirius grinned, entirely unrepentant. “I’m jealous you can go in anytime. You just dive in and vanish and there’s no one to stop you. Can’t believe you didn’t take me there sooner. I’d risk frostbite for that ocean.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the smile.

“But summer. Merlin, Moony. This summer, we’re going back, and I’m staying in the water until I grow gills of my own.” 

Remus chuckled. The idea of Sirius swimming freely beside him again lit something warm in his chest.

The compartment door slid open. “Oi!” James stuck his head in, Peter close behind. “There you two are. Been looking all over the bloody train.”

“Clearly didn’t look very hard,” Sirius said, lounging smugly.

James flopped into the seat next to Sirius, Peter next to Remus. “You two have a nice New Years?”

“The best,” Sirius said, casting Remus a look that made his cheeks flush slightly.

James grinned, then glanced at Remus. “You ready for tonight?”

Remus stiffened just slightly.

“I– yeah,” he said with practiced calm. “I’m ready.”

Only Sirius saw the way his finger curled against the seat. Only Sirius knew that familiar thread of dread still coiled in his chest, tighter than usual. The sea had loosened it for a while, washed it all away, but now it was back, humming beneath his skin like a low, inevitable tide.

Their eyes met briefly. Sirius didn’t say anything, but the look he gave him was grounding.

As the train pulled into Hogsmeade, the air sharpened with the promise of snow. The four boys disembarked together, stepping into the cold, fog-draped station. 

Lily stood at the edge of the platform, wrapped in a red scarf, eyes trained on Remus. She said nothing, but when he approached, she gave him a quick, quiet hug.

“Be safe,” she whispered.

He nodded, throat tight. “I will.”

Then they turned and began the walk toward the cave.

It hit Remus before they even reached the willow. A subtle ache in his chest. A pull, not painful, but undeniable. Like something inside him had been waiting for his return. The lake’s call, steady and ancient, thrummed beneath his ribs.

He didn’t fight it. Not tonight.

The cave was just as they’d left it, dark and still, the pool at its center like a mirror. He stripped down in silence, the boys all by his side.

The moon rose quickly. His transformation was quick, mercifully smooth, but no less painful. Remus gritted his teeth and bore it, letting it wash through him in waves. And through it all, the call pressed on. Not like before, not quite a demand, but a welcome. A beckoning.

But he didn’t leave the cave. Not this time.

James enchanted his usual lights, discussing some way to make them permanent. Peter rifled through the bag of blankets and sweets he brought with them. And Sirius stood close to the water, always near, his posture easy, but his eyes were sharp, never straying far from Remus.

But Remus could feel the lake. It wanted him. He could feel that beyond these stone walls, it waited.

He clenched his jaw and looked away from the water, his tail flicking once, a restless motion he tried to disguise as a stretch. 

“Alright there, mate?” James asked from across the cave, his breath puffing in the cool air.

“Yeah,” Remus rasped. “Just tired.”

Peter was unrolling a blanket, humming tunelessly under his breath. “Didn’t look half as bad as last month,” he said cheerfully. “And no vanishing acts this time.”

Remus forced a weak smile. “Progress.”

James gave him a thumbs up before dropping down beside Peter and tossing a chocolate frog into the air.

They didn’t see the way Remus’ fingers curled faintly into the damp stone where he rested. They didn’t feel the ache radiating from the base of his spine, the way his gills fluttered a bit too quickly beneath his ribs.

But Sirius did.

He didn’t speak. Just sat nearby, cross-legged, eyes watchful. He didn’t move toward Remus, didn’t say anything, but he didn’t look away. And Remus, for his part, didn’t give in to the lake. He stayed.

Even with the current calling to him like a lover’s hand, even with every drop of lakewater in his blood pulling toward the deep, he stayed in the pool.

He forced his breathing in a steady rhythm and laughed at all of James’ dumb jokes when he didn’t even register the punchlines.

Sirius shifted closer, slow and careful, and offered a thermos of tea.

“You alright,” Sirius murmured, too low for the others to hear.

Remus nodded once. “I’m alright.”

And it was true, in some ways.

He stayed in the cave. He stayed with them. 

But the pull didn’t fade.

It simply waited, quietly and patiently, just like the lake.

The water was cold in the gray light of early morning, but Remus didn’t feel it. He stirred slowly beneath the surface, rising from the water, his tail brushing the smooth stone bottom of the pool. His lungs ached, not from strain, but from the strange reluctance of leaving the water. He blinked through the shimmer above, then finally broke the surface.

Sirius was already there. He sat cross-legged on the stone ledge, elbows resting on his knees, a blanket draped loosely over his shoulders. His hair was a mess and his eyes were red-rimmed from a lack of sleep, but they were trained on the pool like he’d never looked away.

Remus blinked water from his lashes, brushing his wet hair from his face. “You’re up early.”

Sirius gave him a wry look. “Didn’t sleep.”

Remus swam closer to the edge, chest just breaking the surface. His tail curled lazily behind him, not ready to let go of the water just yet.

“How long were you watching me?” he asked, half-teasing.

“Long enough to know you didn’t try to leave,” Sirius said.

Remus ducked his head, a flicker of guilt rippling through him. “Didn’t want to scare anyone again.”

“You didn’t,” Sirius said gently, offering a towel. “James and Peter are still asleep. Didn’t even stir.”

Remus took the towel, but didn’t move from the water right away. The ache in his body was familiar, dulled by the lake’s hold on him, but the ache inside, the one that called to him in silence, was louder than ever.

Sirius seemed to sense it.

“Moony,” he said softly.

Remus finally moved to the ledge, pulling himself out with slow effort. His arms shook slightly as he hoisted himself onto the stone, tail already beginning to fade, the magic receding with the moon.

He wrapped the towel around his waist, and took a seat next to Sirius.

Without speaking, Sirius reached out and brushed a thumb under his eye.

Remus stilled, casting a quick glance to Peter and James’ sleeping forms.

“They’re bronze again,” Sirius said.

Remus’ stomach turned. He looked away, toward the cave mouth and the faint light beyond. His voice was low and hoarse. “I figured.” He took a deep breath, hands tightening around the towel. “As soon as we got here, I could feel it. I thought… maybe it would be better after the break. After being away.”

Sirius didn’t say anything.

Remus glanced at him. “But it wasn’t. It’s like… the second I got back, the pull just came roaring back. Not exactly like before. There wasn’t that.. possessed feeling. But it was strong, calling me away from the cave.”

“You didn’t try to leave.”

“No,” Remus said, almost to himself. “But I wanted to.”

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, voice fraying at the edge. 

They were interrupted by a yawn as Peter stirred behind them, stretching and blinking blearily at the two of them. James followed only seconds later, groaning as he sat up and ran a hand through his untamed hair. “Bloody freezing in here,” he muttered. “Moony, you alright?”

Remus stood, adjusting the towel around his waist, schooling his face into something calm. “Yeah. Morning James. Pete.”

James watched him for a second longer than necessary, then nodded slowly. “Right. Well… Lily told us to check your eyes this morning.”

Remus tensed.

Sirius’ hand drifted close to his again, not touching, just there.

James leaned forward slightly, squinting. “Still bronze, then.”

Remus swallowed, nodding once. “Yeah. They came back last night.”

Peter looked between them, rubbing the back of his neck. “Think it’s ‘cause we’re back near the lake?”

“Definitely,” Sirius said before Remus could answer. His voice was even. “The distance seemed to help, but… it was always going to come back when we returned.”

“Lily’s still digging through every bloody book she can find,” James said, sighing. “She said some of the rituals she found were ancient. Old lake magic, and most of it wasn’t meant to be undone.”

Remus didn’t answer. He knew this. He wasn’t sure what to say that hadn’t already been said.

“It’s not getting worse though, right?” Peter asked, half-hopeful. “The pull or whatever. It’s the same?”

Remus hesitated. “It’s…different.”

James nodded grimly. “Alright. We’re here. All of us. We’ll figure it out.”

Remus offered a tired smile. “Thanks.”

Sirius, beside him, was silent, but watching. Always watching.

When the others busied themselves with packing their things, Remus dropped the towel in exchange for his clothes, pulling on his trousers and sweater with practiced ease. He turned and looked at Sirius, and their eyes locked.

It didn’t need to be said. Sirius had felt the weight of it. The way the lake had surged in his chest like something remembering it had once owned him.

Sirius’ expression tightened, barely perceptible.

Then James called out, “You two coming or what?” and the moment shattered.

Remus turned away, checking his arms for any scales that returned, but thankfully, all he saw was light brown hairs and his pale skin.

He cast one last glance at the lake, knowing that the lake wanted to keep him, knowing that one day, it might succeed. But not yet.

Back in the castle, with the firelight of the Gryffindor common room casting long shadows across the walls, Remus felt the weight settle again behind his ribs.

He’d barely spoken since the cave. The others hadn’t pushed. James and Peter were too busy recounting some absurd plan for the next Hogsmeade weekend, and Sirius had stayed close, watching him out of the corner of his eye like he always did when things felt fragile.

But it was quiet now. And Remus was alone at the window, blanket pulled over his shoulders, eyes fixed on the dark sweep of the Forbidden Forest. Beyond that, hidden behind the trees and cliffs, was the lake, silently waiting.

His reflection wavered in the glass, faint in the gray morning light, his bronze eyes looking at him. 

He swallowed.

It shouldn’t have felt like defeat. The full moon had passed without incident. He hadn’t left the cave, hadn’t terrified James or Peter, hadn’t disappeared into the lake like something feral and wild.

But the color had returned all the same. 

He touched the corner of his eye, fingertips brushing the skin like he could rub it away. As if it were something painted on instead of something buried deep inside.

What scared him most was that it hadn’t hurt. Not like before.

There hadn’t been that desperate, clawing pull or sense of losing himself in pieces. It had just crept back in quietly, like it had been waiting for him to stop fighting.

And somewhere beneath that fear, beneath that uncertainty was recognition. A part of him had slipped into the water that night, a part of him had welcomed it. Like it belonged there.

Remus curled tighter under the blanket, stomach churning. He didn't know what it meant. Didn’t know if the lake’s call was something inside of him or something trying to replace it.

All he knew was that the eyes he saw reflected in the window didn’t feel like his anymore. And that it might not be long before the rest of him followed.

Chapter Text

It began in silence. No wind, no whispers, no sound at all, just the press of water on his skin, the echo of movement not his own. He floated in the water, in the same liminal space as before. Above him, moonlight refracted through the surface, but he was floating near the bottom of the lake, surrounded by darkness and silence. 

The lake held him gently, remembering him.

A flicker of movement caught his attention.

And then he saw her. 

Lira.

She swam into view through a shaft of silvered light, her long dark hair trailing behind her. Her eyes, still a luminous green, scanned the water cautiously. She looked a bit older than he remembered. Or maybe just more tired. There was something faded in the curve of her shoulders, something reluctant in her pace.

He – no, it – watched her approach.

“We wondered when you’d return,” a voice said, but it wasn’t Remus’ voice. It echoed with a gentle and heavy pressure.

Lira paused mid-stroke. “I never left.”

“Your heart circles back,” the voice said.

Lira’s expression twitched. “I’m not here to stay.”

“Not yet,” the voice agreed.

Remus tried to speak, to reach for her, but he couldn’t move. He realized that he had no control over the body he found himself in. He was watching and speaking and being, and he understood with a sudden sharpness that this was not his dream. It was a memory of the Vodyanoy.

“The lake is unbalanced. The tether frays.”

Lira frowned. “You’ve said this before.

“It is still true.”

Remus tried to focus on her face. She looked like the girl he remembered from other dreams, but changed. Her eyes still gleamed green, matching the scales that shimmered across her shoulders and the top of her tail, but other patches were dimmer. Along her flanks, the scales had turned grey, like stone worn smooth by time. Like dthe lake’s own folk. She was changing again.

“I didn’t ask for this,” she said quietly.

“You accepted the water. You answered the call.”

The water curled around her, gentle but inescapable. 

“You don’t need to be alone,” the voice offered.

That made her pause. 

Something in her expression changed, something bright, a flicker of longing. The kind of hope born from aching desire. To not be alone. Her lips parted, like she might ask something. 

Instead, she said, “But the village…”

There was a ripple in the water around her, a shift in pressure.

“The village will be safe.”

Lira’s eyes darted toward the dark, toward something beyond Remus’ view. She didn’t speak again, but her shoulders loosened, as if something heavy had been lifted, and her gaze softened.

And then–

Remus was yanked from the dream like a hook through his ribs.

He gasped awake, heart pounding, his dorm bed cold with sweat, the last echoes of the lake still whispering in his ears.

He didn’t move for a long moment, staring at the canopy above his bed, breathing hard. 

It hadn’t been a dream. None of them had been. They were memories.

And Remus was sure he’d been inside the mind of the Vodyanoy.

The morning light was pale and cold, and the dormitory was quiet save for the soft snoring from Peter’s bed and the occasional rustle of James turning in his sleep.

Remus sat on the edge of his mattress, the heavy quilt bunched around his waist. His breath fogged faintly in the chilled air as he pushed up the sleeve of his sleep shirt with slow, almost reluctant fingers.

There it was.

A thin scatter of iridescent bronze scales had returned to the inside of his forearm. Just a small patch, no more than a few inches wide. But they shimmered faintly in the morning light.

His stomach turned.

He reached out and ran his fingers over them, as if that might somehow undo it. But they were real. Cool to the touch, fused with skin that should’ve been just skin.

He thought of the dream, the way Lira had looked at him, the way the water had felt like home.

He didn’t want it to be starting again. He didn’t want to be changing again. 

The bed creaked behind him. A soft exhale. Then: “Remus?”

He flinched slightly and turned.

Sirius sat up slowly, hair a sleep-mussed halo, eyes still heavy with dreams. But the moment he saw Remus’ face, pale and drawn, he seemed to wake fully. His gaze dropped to Remus’ arm, and his lips parted.

“...They’re back,” he said softly.

Remus didn’t respond right away. He just looked at Sirius, the ache in his chest sharper now that someone else had witnessed the scales.

“It was just a dream,” Remus finally said, but the words rang hollow even to his own ears. “Same as before.”

Sirius crouched beside Remus and reached out, brushing his fingers over the edge of the scales, gentle and careful.

“You know it’s not just the dreams, Remus,” he said, not unkindly. “Not with everything that’s been happening.”

Remus swallowed hard. “I thought the break would help. I thought maybe… putting distance between me and the lake would be enough.”

“It did help,” Sirius said quietly. “For a bit. But we knew it wasn’t going to last.”

Remus didn’t answer.

Sirius’ hand slid down and clasped his. He didn’t speak again, just sat there beside him, silent and steady, as the winter sun crept across the floorboards.

After a long moment, Remus leaned over and placed a kiss on Sirius' forehead.

“I’m tired," he whispered.

“I know,” Sirius murmured, tightening his grip. “But we’re not letting it take you. Not without a fight.”

The four boys and Lily found a quiet corner of the library, tucked between two high shelves, far from where Madam Pince prowled. Afternoon light slanted in through the tall windows, casting dust motes dancing in the air.

Lily sat cross-legged on the floor with a stack of books in her lap. James slouched against the end of the shelf, tossing a sugar quill from hand to hand. Peter hovered near the edge of the group, already looking uneasy. Sirius sat beside Remus, close but not crowding, legs stretched long in front of him, eyes watchful. In his lap was a book Remus assumed he was using for researching how to get sound traveling past his Bubble Head Charm, just as he’d promised over the holidays.

Remus sat stiffly, his sleeves tugged down despite the warm room.

“I had another dream last night,” he finally said. “First once since the break.”

Lily stilled. “Same girl?”

Remus nodded. “Yeah.” His throat worked. “And… the scales came back this morning, too.”

James straightened, eyes narrowing. “Are you serious?”

“Unfortunately,” Remus muttered.

Sirius didn’t flinch, just shifted slightly closer, his hand brushing briefly, almost imperceptibly, against Remus’ knee.

Peter blinked. “Again? But I thought the break helped.”

“It did,” Remus said. “While I was away. But now that I’m back…” He trailed off, not needing to finish the thought. They all understood. 

Lily reached out and touched his sleeve, gently, not to push up, just resting her fingers there. “How bad is it?”

“Not bad,” Remus said. “Just a patch. But it’s… I can feel it. Like the lake knows I’m back. Like it’s waiting.”

There was a long pause before Peter spoke. “Shouldn’t you tell someone?” he asked tentatively. “Like Dumbledore? He might be able to help.”

Remus gave a dry laugh. “And tell him what? ‘The dreams are back, and I’m sprouting scales again’?”

Lily’s eyes narrowed. “Dumbledore’s done nothing since this started. He’s known something’s wrong since September and all he’s offered are cryptic warnings and vague assurances. And that’s after he sent Remus in to rescue Callum and Elspeth.”

Sirius hadn’t said a word yet, but he was watching Remus carefully. When Remus leaned back against the shelf, pressing a hand to his brow, Sirius angled his body just slightly, like a shield without drawing attention.

“It wouldn’t matter anyway,” Remus said quietly. “Even if I did tell him, it’s not like he’d give us anything useful. Always just talks in riddles.”

Peter’s voice was small. “So what do we do?”

“I’m fine,” Remus said. “We don’t need to do anything right now. We have some time before things get worse. Right now, I’m fine.”

No one looked convinced, but no one objected. 

Remus looked around the small circle of his friends, his heart heavy but steadied by their presence. His eyes lingered last on Sirius.

Sirius caught the glance and gave him a small, deliberate nod. He didn’t say I’ve got you, he didn’t need to. And for now, Remus let that be enough.

Later that week, as they made their way toward Defense Against the Dark Arts, Sirius was animatedly talking to Remus about his research on the Bubble-Head Charm.

“I’m telling you, it should work,” Sirius said, gesturing animatedly as they walked. “If I can just tweak the charm to account for internal resonance and spell-layer damping, then sound should pass through the bubble so you can hear.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Am I supposed to have understood any of that?”

Sirius ignored him, undeterred. “No, really. If the bubble maintains structural stability but modulates with vocal vibration, it should theoretically let speech through. I’ve been researching sound-transference charms since we’ve been back. Even borrowed that ridiculous acoustic theory book from Flitwick’s shelf.”

Remus gave a soft chuckle. “You know, most people ease back into schoolwork after the holidays.”

Sirius smirked. “What can I say? I’m passionate about elemental magic.” Remus rolled his eyes, but smiled down at him. “Besides, just wait until you hear my voice in crystal clarity under twelve feet of water. It’ll be worth it. I’ll try it next time we go down together, you know, when you’re feeling swimmy.”

“Swimmy,” Remus echoed. “That’s the technical term, is it?”

“Obviously,” Sirius said, bumping his shoulder lightly against Remus. The playful look in his eyes faded a beat later when a figure turned the corner ahead of them.

Callum.

He was alone, a book tucked under one arm, hair slightly longer than it had been before the holidays. His steps slowed as he spotted them, his expression unreadable.

Sirius made a small, disgruntled noise under his breath.

Remus ignored it and raised a hand. “Callum. Hey.”

Callum stopped, a flicker of surprise passing over his face before he smiled faintly. “Remus. Sirius. Happy New Year.”

“You too,” Remus said warmly. Sirius only gave a curt nod, his jaw tight.

“How was your break?” Callum asked, shifting the book in his arms.

“Quiet,” Remus said. “Nice, though. Spent it by the sea with my mum.”

Callum’s eyes flicked to Sirius, who still hadn’t spoken. “That sounds nice.”

“And you?” Remus asked, trying to keep things neutral.

“Went home for a bit. Saw some family.” His tone didn’t elaborate.

A pause stretched between them.

Then Callum looked between them and said, lightly, “Didn’t think I’d see you two again so soon.”

Sirius crossed his arms. “We aren’t hiding.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Callum said, his voice calm. “Just wasn’t sure… if you’d want to talk about it.”

Remus shifted slightly. “We weren’t exactly trying to put on a show.”

Callum shook his head. “No, I know. I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

Sirius muttered, “Neither were we.”

Another pause. 

Callum looked to Remus. “You don’t have to worry. I’m not telling anyone. That’s not my style.”

“I know,” Remus said quietly. “Thanks.”

Something flickered in Sirius’ expression, uncertainty maybe, but he looked away, pretending to study a suit of armor nearby. Remus caught the tension in his shoulders, though. The fact that Sirius hadn’t said much.

Callum seemed to notice too, but didn’t push.

“Anyway,” he said after a moment, shifting the book again. “I should get to Arithmancy. But… I’m glad you two are okay.”

“Thanks,” Remus said sincerely. Sirius just nodded.

Callum’s gaze lingered for just a moment longer on Remus before he turned and disappeared down the hall.

As soon as he was gone, Sirius exhaled sharply. “Well. That wasn’t awkward at all.”

Remus gave him a look. “He was kind.”

Sirius didn’t answer right away. Then, grudgingly: “Yeah. I know.”

They walked in silence for a few steps. 

Remus glanced at him. “He wasn’t flirting with me.”

“I didn’t say he was.”

“You were thinking it.”

“I was thinking about hexing that armor if he didn’t leave.”

Remus snorted. “You’re ridiculous.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, but Remus’ smile lingered. 

He glanced down the empty corridor, checking for movement. None. Without another word, he grabbed Sirius by the collar and pressed him gently against the frosted window behind him. The chill of the glass made Sirius flinch, but only for a heartbeat, because then Remus was kissing him.

Not rushed or shy. A deep, deliberate press of lips, warm and lingering, with just a touch of his tongue to coax that soft, helpless sound from Sirius’ throat. Remus tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss for half a second longer, until Sirius sagged against the glass, breath stuttering and fingers curling reflexively into the front of Remus’ cloak.

Then Remus pulled back.

Close enough that his lips nearly brushed Sirius’, but far enough to watch the dazed look in his eyes.

He smirked, just a little, and murmured, “Still ridiculous.”

Then he turned on his heel and walked off toward class, his stride loose and casual, entirely unbothered.

Behind him, he could hear the scuffle of Sirius pushing off the window, footsteps hurrying to catch up.

“Bloody hell,” came Sirius’ voice, quiet and wrecked and grinning all at once, and Remus’ smirk deepened.

Yes, he thought. Mine.

Chapter Text

The corridors smelled faintly of damp stone and charmed frost, even weeks after the last snowgall. Winter clung to the chill in the air, and Remus was only too happy to tug the sleeves of his jumper down over his wrists as he made his way past the grand staircase, his bag slung low over one shoulder. The marble steps gleamed faintly in the late morning light, but it wasn’t the staircase that caught his attention.

He hadn’t meant to slow down or listen, but his feet hesitated anyways as he passed an open corridor near the History of Magic wing, where the thick velvet drapery hadn’t quite closed around the staff antechamber, and the unmistakable sound of Dumbledore’s voice was far too serious. Remus hesitated just beyond view, breath quiet and shallow.

The voices inside were hushed and close, carrying just enough to catch their hushed words over the low crackling of a fireplace.

“ –she was nowhere near the corridor windows,” Professor Rivera was saying, her tone low and tight. “There wasn’t even condensation on the walls.”

McGonagall replied sharply, “And yet she was soaked through. Hair, robes, and she’s left with a broken wrist.”

“Not just soaked,” Rivera countered. “Dragged. A fellow Slytherin said she fell flat on her back, like something yanked her by the ankles through the Charms corridor. She claimed they saw water ripple across the floor right before it happened. Not spilled water. Moving water.”

There was a disbelieving huff from Binns. “Surely you don’t mean to suggest the water moved on its own. This isn’t a ghost tale, Rivera.”

“I saw the trail myself,” Rivera snapped, uncharacteristically impatient. “It slithered like a tide back toward the corridor near the west staircase. Then vanished.”

McGonagall’s voice was low now, but clipped. “She broke her wrist. In the middle of a dry hallway. There is nothing natural about this.”

Silence stretched for a few beats, broken only by the rustle of parchment and soft crack of firewood shifting in the hearth.

Then Dumbledore spoke, calm but unmistakably grim. “The waters are restless again.”

“Do you still believe this is connected to the disruption in the fall?” McGonagall asked. “Because if it is–”

“I believe,” Dumbledore continued, “that something deeper is stirring. The balance we thought had been restored… may not hold much longer.”

“You think the lake is trying to fix itself,” Rivera said quietly.

“No,” Dumbledore said after a long pause. “I don’t believe it knows what it’s doing.”

There was a rustle of fabric, perhaps McGonagall turning sharply. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he continued, voice grave, “it is not acting with intention. Not in the way we would understand. The lake is old magic.”

Binns gave a dry, disbelieving scoff. “But water cannot… drag a student. Inside the castle, no less. That’s not how water behaves.”

“This water isn't ordinary,” Rivera said, her voice taut. “I saw the corridor. I saw how it moved.”

“Precisely,” Dumbledore murmured. “It doesn’t know what it needs. But it’s hungry for balance, for restoration. And it’s grasping in the dark.”

Remus’s blood ran cold.

McGonagall asked after a long silence. “What do we tell the students?”

“Nothing,” Dumbledore said firmly. “Not yet. We do not risk panic over that which we cannot yet explain. Continue to watch. If there are any more… disturbances, we will reevaluate.”

Binns muttered something about hysteria and ancient plumbing, but Remus had already backed away from the doorway, his heart thudding in his ears.

Remus walked slowly back through the castle, the professors’ voices still echoing in his head.

It doesn’t know what it needs.

Grasping in the dark.

The words settled in his chest, heavy and impossible to shake.

He knew what he’d heard. He knew what it meant.

Callum and Elspeth having gone missing, the corridor flooding in December, and now another student had gotten hurt. It hadn’t been a coincidence. 

His jaw clenched. He hadn’t seen it happen. He hadn’t been anywhere near it. But somehow, that almost made it worse, like his very existence was enough to spark it. Like the lake could stretch through stone and spells just because it was connected to him. 

What if it was his fault?

He shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he passed the dim corridor near the History of Magic classroom, trying to shake the thought.

That’s when he saw Snape, the first time since December when he was laid out in the corridor with his tail.

The other boy had just turned the corner, robes too short at his ankles, expression twisted like something sour was lodged behind his teeth. His dark eyes landed on Remus immediately, narrowing, and for the briefest of moments, they just stared at each other in silence.

Then Snape spoke, voice low and curling. “I heard another student was hurt. You do this, Lupin?”

The words were quiet, almost offhand. But they landed like acid, like Snape knew they would.

Remus stopped in his tracks. For a moment, he said nothing, teeth grinding together as he stared at Snape like he might actually hex him.

Then, low and flat: “Fuck off.”

Snape’s sneer twisted further, but he said nothing. Just turned and walked away, robes snapping around his ankles.

Remus stood frozen for a moment, breath tight, the heat of rage blooming beneath his ribs. Not because Snape was wrong, but because he wasn’t.

He exhaled sharply and resumed walking, faster now, storming off to the library.

He shoved the large library doors open with more force than necessary, earning a sharp look from Madam Pince. He didn’t care.

His eyes scanned the rows until they landed on a familiar table tucked near the back windows. Lily sat cross-legged on one side, a stack of books around her and a half-filled scroll of notes in front of her. Sirius was next to her, hunched over a thick, worn volume, its pages wide and old enough to crack.

They both looked up when he approached.

Sirius startled like a guilty first-year, his eyes wide for a split second before he slammed the book shut in one quick motion.

Remus didn’t slow down. He dropped into the seat next to Lily, the wood groaning beneath him. His fingers threaded through his hair, dragging hard against his scalp.

Lily blinked at him, concern already etched between her brows. “Remus, are you alright?”

No,” he said sharply, dropping into the seat beside her and scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Have you heard?”

“Heard what?” Sirius asked, voice already guarded.

Remus looked between them, jaw clenched. “A Slytherin was dragged across a corridor this morning and broke her wrist.”

Lily gasped. “Merlin. I didn’t hear. Is she alright? Was it Peeves?”

“No,” Remus said flatly. “It wasn’t Peeves. It was… water.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Water?” Lily echoed, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

Sirius sat up straighter, tension tightening every line of his shoulders. “Where?”

“Charms corridor,” Remus explained. “Rivera was nearby. McGonagall saw the aftermath. I overheard them talking about it in the staff wing.” He blew out a sharp breath. 

“What exactly did they say?” Lily asked, already reaching for her quill.

Remus exhaled through his nose. “That she was soaked to the skin and yanked backwards. One of the other students said it looked like something had just grabbed her ankles and pulled her down the hallway. There was no leak, no weird weather. Just… water, moving on its own.”

Lily paled and Sirius’ fists curled against the table.

“Dumbledore said the lake is reaching again,” Remus continued, his voice quieter now, but no calmer. “He said it doesn’t know what it needs. That it’s blindly searching for balance, even inside the castle.”

The silence that followed pressed it, thick and stifling,broken only by the scratch of Lily’s quill slowing to a halt. 

Then, out of the corner of his eyes, Remus caught Sirius reaching toward the closed book beside him, fingertips brushing the spine like he couldn’t help himself.

Remus reached across the table and grabbed it first.

The cover was blank, and the spine was cracked and worn.

The corner of a page stuck out.

Binding Currents: Intersections of Human and Elemental Magic.

Remus’ stomach dropped.

“What is this?” he asked sharply.

Sirius’ mouth opened and closed. “Nothing. Just…curious.”

“Curious?” Remus echoed. “You’re researching the lake. I told you, I’m fine–”

“And I told you,” Sirius cut in, voice louder than necessary, “that I’m not going to just sit around waiting for it to take you.”

His words hit the table like a slammed first. 

Lily looked between them, alarmed.

Remus stared, throat suddenly tight. He felt the burn of anger laced with fear or helplessness. The deep ache of knowing Sirius had been doing this behind his back.

“You don’t understand what you’re messing with,” Remus said, voice low and strained. 

“And you do?” Sirius shot back. “You’re drowning in this thing, and you still won’t let anyone help.”

“I am helping,” Remus said through his teeth. “By keeping people out of it. I’m the one it wants–”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” he snapped. “You think I don’t feel it every time I’m near the lake? It knows me. It’s in me.”

They were both half-standing now, leaning over the table, voices too loud for the quiet of the library, until Lily reached out and pressed her hands down between them.

“Enough,” she said firmly.

Remus sank back into his chair, breathing hard. Sirius didn’t sit again right away, but his hands trembled at his sides.

For a moment no one spoke.

Then Sirius slowly stepped around the table, close enough that Remus could feel the heat of him, see the tightness in his jaw, the frustration still flickering behind his eyes. But when he reached out, it wasn’t with more fire. It was quiet.

His fingers brushed over Remus’ shoulder, tentative, then steadier as he gave a small, grounding squeeze. He leaned down just slightly, his voice low in Remus’ ear.

“I wasn’t trying to go behind your back,” he said. “I just… I need to know how to protect you. I don’t know how else to do this.”

Remus’ shoulders dropped a little under his touch. He didn’t look at him right away, but his hand reached up to where Sirius’ was still resting on his shoulder. Their fingers threaded together, and Lily pretended not to notice.

“You don’t have to fix everything,” Remus murmured.

“I want to try.”

Remus gave a faint, crooked smile at him, and Sirius smiled too, before letting go of Remus and returning to his seat across from him.

Under the table, Sirius extended his leg to rest his ankle against Remus’ as a steady presence. The air between them was no longer taut with fury, but tension still held.

Lily glanced between them again, then leaned closer. “If it’s reaching out into the castle,” she said, voice barely above a whisper, “we might not have much time. Whatever the lake wants… it’s getting desperate.”

Remus nodded once, but didn’t say anything, just stared down at the cracked cover of the book in front of Sirius. 

“Remus,” Lily continued, voice hesitant now. “I know you don’t want us looking into this, but I do think I’ve found something.”

Remus groaned. “Not you, too.”

But Lily didn’t listen. Instead, she grabbed another book from her stack, flipping it open onto the already opened book in front of her. She tapped her finger on a passage midway down the page. “Here,” she said, voice hushed. “It’s about magically sentient environments. Places where natural magic has grown so strong over centuries it behaves almost like a conscious force – elemental in nature, reactive to change. Hogwarts itself has some of these traits, but this…it’s more like the lake.”

Remus leaned in reluctantly, eyes skimming the ancient script. Most of it was dense magical theory, but one passage stood out in neat, dark letters.

When imbalance endures, the land will demand correction. If no natural answer emerges, it will reach for that which disturbs it. Or sacrifice what anchors it. 

His throat tightened. “You think that’s me.”

“I think it’s your magic,” Lily said gently.

He frowned. “That’s a distinction without a difference, Lily.”

“I’m serious–”

“So am I,” Remus snapped, more sharply than intended. 

Sirius shifted across from him. “Let her finish, Moony.”

Remus dragged in a breath through his nose and nodded for Lily to continue. 

“I found this book in the archives buried in this old collection of regional magical folklore. There’s an old story from a village near the Black Lake. There’s this tale about the ‘Lady of the Lake,’ but she was apparently once a witch from the village. People reported that she used to walk into the lake, disappear for hours. No one understood where she went, how she was able to swim for so long.”

Remus swallowed, but didn’t say anything. 

“People believed she lived in the lake after that,” Lily went on. “Some believe she turned into a kelpie while others say the lake took her. But every version of the tale states that one day, she just vanished.

“That’s not all I found,” Lily continued. “Well, I found this in the restricted section, and it was basically half-rotted and misfiled, so it’s a miracle I was even able to find it at all.” She pulled a brown leather book from her stack onto the table. “It’s not a textbook of course, but it mentions the lake, dating back to before Hogwarts was even built. Apparently, the village nearby relied on the lake for fishing, food, trade, water. But at one point, things started going wrong. The fish were dying, the lake started pushing unnatural waves. At least one person reported to have drowned without any explanation.

“Don’t you see?” Lily continued. “The lake was unbalanced then, just like it is now. I think that this mermaid gave up the part of herself that was a witch. She sacrificed it to balance the lake, and the consequences of that are that she… became a part of the lake’s magic.”

Remus sat back in his chair, spine stiff. He heard the blood in his ears before he heard his own voice. “So.. what? I just go down to the lake and never come up again?”

“Well,” Lily continued hesitantly. “Considering that the creatures took two students in the fall, I don’t think it’s as simple as that. I think it wants you to sacrifice your human part, and leave the rest.”

“Full lake creature,” Remus muttered.

Sirius let out a breath that Remus barely heard. He hadn’t said a word, but Remus could see the way his knuckles tightened around the edges of the book he was reading.

“I might be wrong,” Lily continued. “But the lake knows it’s broken. And if it thinks your human magic could somehow fix things, while adding more elemental or mer-magic to the lake, then…”

Sirius stood up abruptly, pacing a few steps before turning back toward the table. “So what, then?” he asked, voice low. “We just… wait until it decides to drown him? Let it rip him in half?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Lily said quickly.

“Isn’t it?”

“Sirius,” Remus said, voice flat. “It’s fine.”

Sirius turned to him. “It’s not fine.”

Remus looked away. The silence was thick after that. Lily slowly closed the book and pushed it aside. Sirius sat down again, one hand clenched against his jaw. His hair hung in his face, and Remus couldn’t read the expression beneath it.

He wanted to reach for him, but he didn’t.

Lily’s voice came quieter this time. “This doesn’t mean we stop trying. If anything, it means we need to figure out how to keep the lake from taking anything else. Maybe there’s a way to use your magic to heal the lake without…” But her voice trailed off, not wanting to put the reality back into words again.

Remus nodded once. He couldn’t look at either of them.

Sirius still didn’t speak. But when they stood to leave some time later, he brushed his fingers against the back of Remus’ hand. 

Chapter Text

The February full moon had passed, but the heaviness of it lingered.

They’d made their way down to the cave like always, cloaks drawn tight against the cold. James had finally managed to modify his floating lanterns to be nearly permanent so he wouldn’t have to recast every month, casting steady golden light that made the cavern feel a touch less bleak. 

Sirius, ever dramatic, had yanked Remus’ enchanted cloak from around his shoulders and threw it around himself with a grin.

“Hey!” Remus exclaimed. “I need that–”

“Watch this,” Sirius said with a spark in his eye. He stepped to the water’s edge, muttered a spell under his breath, and then dove. When he resurfaced, Remus saw the shimmering globe formed over his head, clear and dry.

“The Bubble-Head Charm?” Remus asked, not convinced.

“Improved,” Sirius said proudly, and this made the other boys gasp. “Modified the airflow. It lets me speak normally so you can hear me now. Took me ages to get it right.” He gave Remus a quick wink, and then dove into the lake.

Remus stripped down quickly and dove in, bracing himself for the familiar pain of transformation. It never got easier. Sirius was there in the water, his voice clear through the bubble charm he’d perfected. “It’s okay, Moony. I’ve got you.”

When the shift was complete, Remus turned toward him, catching the way Sirius hovered nearby, hair floating around his head in a dark halo. “See?” Sirius grinned. “Clear as day.”

“You sound ridiculous,” Remus said, but he was smiling.

“I sound brilliant .”

Remus rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t deny that he was impressed. The charm worked better than unexpected, Sirius’ voice nearly natural underwater. But he was shivering. “Get out. You’re cold, and I want my cloak back.”

Sirius hesitated, then relented. “Fine. But admit it. You’re impressed.”

“A little.”

With a girn, Sirius swam off. Remus lingered just beneath the surface, letting the silence wrap around him. 

Except, it wasn’t silent. The lake pulsed with magic, whispering at the edges of his mind. 

It’s time, it murmured. Come home.

When Remus surfaced, he smiled at his friends. Because Sirius had worked hard on his charm, and James had too with his lanterns. Because Peter had remembered to bring extra blankets and chocolate. They were trying. So Remus would, too. Even with the lake being a constant hum in his skin, louder than before, whispering to him even while floating in the cave, tugging at the magic in his bones.

When they left the cave and returned to the castle the next morning, warmth crept slowly back into their limbs. Breakfast was already underway in the Great Hall, but Remus made some excuse about grabbing some notes to review while eating, and he slipped away before anyone could protest.

The truth was, he didn’t want to be around the other students. Not right now. It made his skin crawl imagining sitting in a room full of perfectly normal students, while hiding his bronze scales under his clothing.

Over the next few days, he kept to himself more than usual. He had snapped at James in Charms when he joked about his handwriting. He ignored Peter’s questions in Transfiguration. And he ducked out of dinner early two nights in a row.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be around them. It was that he didn’t trust himself not to lash out. The pull of the lake was louder than ever. His dreams were no longer dreams at all, they were borrowed visions, voices that didn’t sound like his own whispering through his mind, and he found his patience was worn thin.

He caught himself doodling wave patterns in the margins of his parchment. He stared too long out the window during Herbology, his gaze locked on the treeline that led to the lake. Even showers were a danger, the feeling of hot water on his shoulders made him feel like his gills were twitching, like they wanted to open. 

And through it all, Sirius hovered.

He never said anything outright. He never asked what was wrong. But he started showing up more. He would meet him between classes, offering to walk with him to the common room, sitting a little too close in the library without making a show of it.

Most nights, Sirius curled against him in bed, warm and grounding. Their fingers would find each other under the covers, and Remus would let himself sink into the feel of it. The press of a kiss just under his jaw, the steady rise and fall of Sirius’ breath against his chest. He wanted to bottle those moments, stretch them out until they were enough to keep him tethered.

But even Sirius, the one thing that still felt good, was beginning to test his patience.

Remus didn’t want to be annoyed. He knew Sirius was trying, but the constant presence, the gentle nudges, the way Sirius watched him like he might vanish if he blinked. Remus could feel himself bristling against it, even if he never said a word.

Lily noticed, of course.

She cornered him outside the Arithmancy classroom on Wednesday afternoon, her expression unreadable. 

“You’ve been off,” she said quietly. “Even James mentioned it during our rounds last night.”

“I’m fine,” he muttered.

“No, you’re not.” Her voice was firm. “And that’s okay, but don’t push people away, Remus. Especially not your friends, and especially not Sirius.”

That made him flinch. 

She sighed, stepping closer. “He’s worried about you. We all are. Just let someone in, even if it’s just a little.”

He nodded stiffly, and walked away before she could say anything else.

But her words clung to him.

And especially not Sirius.

Over the next week, Remus noticed that Sirius had been disappearing. Not in the way Remus did, quietly slipping away in silence. No, Sirius disappeared with purpose. He often found books hidden beneath his bed, hearing pages rustling late in the night. But he never told Remus what he was looking for.

One afternoon, Remus returned from the greenhouses to find Sirius storming into the dormitory, jaw clenched so tightly it looked painful. James trailed behind him, eyebrows drawn in concern.

“Mate, just leave it,” James said as they stepped in. “He’s not going to listen.”

Sirius didn’t answer. He kicked the edge of his trunk hard enough to rattle the hinges and then sat down heavily on his bed, hand buried in his hair.

Remus set his bag down carefully and crossed his arms. “What happened?”

Sirius didn’t lift his head. “Ran into Reg.”

James made a face and sat down near the foot of Remus’ bed. “He tried to talk to him again.”

“About what?” Remus asked.

“About… things,” Sirius mumbled. “He’s still mixed up with pure blood shit with my parents. Hanging out with Snape now, even,”

Remus took a slow breath. “I’m sorry.”

Sirius gave a bitter laugh. “You ever get tired of being sorry, Moony? My whole life now is just one pitiful depressing mess.”

Remus didn’t answer. He sat on the edge of his bed, close enough to touch Sirius’ knee, but he didn’t. 

That night, Sirius crawled into Remus’ bed. He didn’t say a word, just curled around him like he always did, like Remus was something warm and safe.

Remus lay stiff as a stone. 

He wasn’t angry. Not at Sirius, anyway. He could never be. But it felt like his whole body was buzzing with static, an ache beneath his skin he couldn’t soothe as new scales continued to appear over his body. The lake called to him more with each passing day tugging at him behind his sternum, causing a heaviness in his limbs when he tried to fight it. He knew the lake, the Vodyanoy even, were watching and waiting.

And he was failing. Failing to stay grounded.

Failing to stay human. 

“I just wanted him to be better,” Sirius whispered against the back of Remus’ neck, pulling him away from his thoughts. “I wanted him to want out. I just thought… he might, too.”

Remus closed his eyes. “Sometimes they don’t.”

His voice came out hoarse. He hated that he couldn’t offer more.Hated that the distance between them had grown because Remus no longer knew how to stay present. 

Sirius didn’t respond. Guilt twisted sharp in his chest, but even that emotion felt dulled by the pulse of magic pulling him under. He wanted to turn and wrap Sirius in his arms, to be who Sirius needed him to be, but he wasn’t sure how to do that anymore. 

In the days that followed, Sirius became softer, as if his confrontation with his brother had worn him down. He was always beside Remus, always watching him with worried eyes. He brushed his hand against Remus’ under the table. He even stopped scowling when Callum approached.

Every time Sirius touched him, Remus wanted to lean in, but the weight in his chest made it impossible. He couldn’t give anything right now. Couldn't even fake it. So he pulled back. 

“You alright?” Lily asked one evening in the common room, her voice gentle as he pretended to read a book he wasn’t seeing. 

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“I said I’m fine,” he snapped, sharper than he meant. Lily recoiled, and he instantly regretted it, but he still didn’t apologize. It was easier if people just left him alone.

So he withdrew from them all. From James and Peter. From Lily. Bit by bit, Remus shut the door on them all.

Only Sirius remained, refusing to leave.

One night in February, as they lay in the quiet dark of their dormitory, Sirius spoke without looking at him.

“You’re slipping away.”

Remus didn’t respond. 

“I don’t know exactly what you’re fighting,” Sirius said softly. “But I wish you’d let me in.”

“I’m not slipping,” Remus lied, voice flat.

Sirius finally looked at him then. “I know when you’re lying, Remus.”

Remus didn’t say another word. He didn’t want to keep lying. 

Sleep took a long time to find Remus. Even curled against Sirius, warm in the quiet dark of the dormitory, his mind wouldn't still. His body was too tense, his thoughts looping around Lily’s words from the library from weeks earlier, until they lost their edges and became something shapeless and heavy. The lake didn’t want him gone. It wanted more of him. Half of him.

He pressed his face into the pillow and counted each of Sirius’ breaths. 

If he gave up his magic, if he let go of that tether that kept him walking on land, using a wand, casting spells and brewing potions, what would be left? Scales and gills and silence?

But the worst part was, it made sense.

It explained the aching in his bones. The way his skin prickled around water. The dreams. The voices. 

It explained why the lake hadn’t calmed. Why Remus wasn’t enough as he was. Why something deeper inside him had always known that, eventually, it would ask for more. 

He didn’t realize he was crying until Sirius stirred beside him.

A gentle shift of weight on the mattress, a rustle of blankets, and then fingers were brushing against his cheek. 

“Moony?” His voice was thick with sleep, low and rough.

Remus froze.

He hadn’t meant to let it show. Hadn’t meant to feel it at all, now with Sirius so close. But now the tears were there, silent and slow, slipping past his lashes like they’d been waiting for the quiet to fall.

He couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t bear to see the worry on Sirius’ face or the way he always leaned in like he could fix something that wasn’t fixable.

So Remus turned, slow and deliberate, his back to Sirius.

“I’m fine,” he murmured. But the words caught somewhere in his throat. 

Sirius shifted a bit closer, barely a breath of space between them now, and let his hand rest lightly against Remus’ back. A warmth that steadied Remus without demanding anything in return.

And somehow, that was worse.

Because Remus knew he didn’t deserve it. Not this patience. Not this kind of quiet. Not when he was slowly unraveling from the inside out and couldn’t find the strength to explain it to the one person who kept trying to catch the pieces.

He clenched his jaw, closed his eyes tighter, and let the tears come in silence. Sirius stayed exactly where he was, hand warm through the fabric of Remus’ shirt, a silent anchor in the dark.

He knew it was a dream. But this one was different. The instant the world around him shifted, Remus remained himself. Not the version of him that floated powerlessly beneath the lake, watching through someone else’s eyes, but this time fully, consciously himself. He looked down and saw his own hands, pale and freckled. The faint shimmer of bronze scales glittered along the undersides of his arms, curling up over his chest in a slow spread that he no longer questioned. 

He was in the lake, his tail swaying beneath him. The water was thick and heavy, but it didn’t choke him. His lungs expanded with ease. It wasn’t like the other dreams. He wasn’t being pulled this time.

Around him, the lake pulsed with a low, slow current. In the distance, dark shadows shifted like ancient stone before they emerged.

There were five of them, and they slowly became recognizable. Tall and thin, their bodies rippling with cords of muscle, skin fractured in the water. Their dark eyes glowed faintly in the greenish-light of the lake, blurred faces unreadable.

“You’ve come,” one of the Vodyanoy creatures said. Its voice did not echo in water like Remus’ voice, but it vibrated with an icy chill.

“I’m dreaming,” he said aloud, and the words left his mouth in perfect clarity. “But I know I’m not… I know I’m me this time. Why?”

“You rest,” another replied, eyes narrowing. “But the body is a door, and tonight, it opens. You are ready.”

Remus swallowed. “Ready for what?”

The five of them tilted their heads in eerie, inhuman unison. For a moment, they said nothing.

“You have felt the pull. You have seen what you are becoming. The bronze on your skin. The change in your eyes.” The first Vodyanoy drifted closer, its tendrils trailing like smoke in the water. “At first, we did not know there was another.”

Another?

“The dreams,” Remus pressed. “That was you?” 

The creature nodded.

“Why did you send them to me? What do you want from me?”

“It is not want,” another said. “It is memory. It is history. It is truth.”

“Truth?” Remus echoed.

“There was another like you. A female.”

“Lira.” The name sank like a stone in his chest. He remembered her eyes from his dreams, the pressure of her presence. “Who was she?”

“She was what you are now,” they answered. “She came willingly. She gave up her humanity and became of the lake. She balanced it.”

“For how long?”

“Centuries,” came the low reply. “Until it was no longer enough.”

Remus’ chest tightened, cold dread creeping down his spine. “And then the balance broke again.”

The creature inclined its head slowly. “Yes. It began to fray. A thinning of the threads beneath the water. The lake grew hungry and restless, and we were awoken.”

Another creature shifted, its eyes dim with something like memory. “We searched,” it continued. “We reached for magic where we could find it. The castle above teemed with it. So many children, and so much life.”

Remus’ breath hitched. “Callum and Elspeth,” he said.

A pause and the shadows around the creatures seemed to thicken.

“They were strong,” it said. “Human, pure-blooded. Magic in their bones, bright and sharp. Their magic might have stilled the lake for a time.”

Remus’ fingers curled involuntarily. “So you took them.”

“We called,” it said without defensiveness. “And their magic answered. We held them only long enough to know if it was enough. It wasn’t. We intended to release them. We would have.”

Remus’ mouth felt dry. “But I came for them.”

“Yes.” Its dark eyes narrowed slightly. “You entered the water. You wounded one of us.”

His chest tightened in a different way now. The spear. The moment he thought he’d killed it.

“It lived,” the creature continued, as if hearing his thoughts. “You did not end it. But you did reveal yourself to us.”

Remus exhaled slowly, a strange feeling of guilt and relief running through him.

“We saw you clearly then,” the Vodyanoy said. “We felt you. The shape of your magic, echoing of the one who came before you. She was from two magics, as you are now. Elemental and wand. Water and wizard. A rare convergence. And the lake made her whole.”

Remus’ stomach twisted. He looked down at his arms, the bronze shimmer that curled upward, marking and changing him.

“And you think if I do the same… if I give up my humanity, the lake will settle again.”

“We do not think. We know. Her magic stilled the waters for centuries. Yours is the same. It sings in your blood.”

Remus was silent, thinking of everything that he’d endured since the beginning of the school year. “The water in the castle… you attacked more students,” Remus accused. The tension was mounting beneath his ribs. “You tried to take more.”

“No,” the first Vodyanoy said, and the word felt like a gust of bitter wind. “It was not us. It was the lake itself. Hungry and confused, reaching where it should not. Its magic has become wild and fractured. It does not know what it needs. That is why we have awoken.”

Remus closed his eyes and his throat felt tight. He thought of Elspeth and Callum. He thought of the girl who broke her wrist in the corridor and the flooded bathroom before the holidays. He thought of every strange echo he had felt in the lake’s magic, every spike of magic and the unrelenting pull.

His chest ached with understanding.

“And me?” he asked. “Why am I changing?”

“Because your magic knows. It hears. It answers.”

Remus looked down at himself again. The bronze scales shimmered against his arms, tracing his veins like a second skin. He suddenly felt exposed, as if the lake had been watching him become this and simply waited. 

“You said Lira gave up her humanity,” Remus said slowly. “What did she become?”

But the Vodyanoy were silent.

“You won’t tell me,” he said.

Their silence deepened. 

“Why me?” he whispered. 

The five of them moved as one, forming a loose circle around him. The water grew impossibly still. Their presence pressed in, not threatening, but not comforting either. 

“You are the balance,” they said.

Remus’ heart pounded. Not with fear, but with a strange clarity, as if something deep within him had been waiting to hear those exact words. 

He didn’t ask what he had to do. He already knew.

And still, he asked the final question, voice quiet. “Is there no other way?”

The five creatures looked at him, unblinking, their cold light casting ghostly shapes through the water. He thought for a moment that they may not answer him again, but then–

“The lake remembers her magic. But it needs more. It needs what lies between. The old magic and the new. The water and the wand. Not whole, not human, not creature. But both. From division, balance. From two magics, peace.”

A chill swept through him, though the water did not move.

“It is your duality. Your division. Your power. You carry it in your skin.”

Remus swallowed. “And that will be enough?” His voice came out raw.

The Vodyanoy drifted closer, closer than they’d ever dared before.

“For generations.”

The words were final.

Chapter Text

By the end of February, the pull had become unbearable. Remus’ skin prickled constantly with the urge to be submerged. The scales had spread to his chest, clustering like constellations along his stomach, hips, and legs. His eyes now gleamed an unmistakable bronze that left him avoiding eye contact in case someone might notice.

Sirius noticed everything, of course. Not just his eyes, which he had been aware of for months, but the scales and Remus’ demeanor.

But instead of giving Remus space to breathe, he continued to hover. Every moment, every class, every glance tinged with worry. He watched Remus like he was about to disappear, and Remus was worn thin. Every time he stepped out of the dormitory, Sirius was waiting. If he sat in the library, Sirius would sit with him, pretending to read a book he barely opened. If Remus slipped outside, Sirius would appear minutes later under the guise of getting some fresh air. He followed him to classes he wasn’t even in. He walked with him to and from every meal. He asked Remus constantly if he was alright.

And Remus, already unraveling, felt smothered.

Until he finally broke. 

Sirius had followed him again, this time to the Astronomy Tower, where Remus had planned to go alone.

“I’m fine, Sirius,” Remus said sharply, not even turning around as Sirius stepped up the final steps.

“You didn’t come back after dinner,” Sirius said, arms crossed, eyes dark. 

“Just wanted to be alone.”

“You’ve wanted to be alone a lot lately,” Sirius replied.

Remus spun, voice tight. “Maybe I have a reason.”

Sirius blinked at him before speaking. “Then tell me.”

Remus stared, jaw clenched. “So you can worry even more? So you can hover like I’m going to walk into the lake and never come back? You’re already doing that.”

“Because I’m scared!” Sirius snapped, stepping forward. “You’re changing, Remus. Your eyes, your skin, the way you move. Don’t pretend it’s not happening!”

Remus laughed, bitter and exhausted. “Of course it’s happening. But you following me around like a shadow isn’t going to stop it!”

“I don’t know how to stop it,” Sirius shot back. “But I can’t just watch it happen without doing something.”

“You’re not supposed to do anything! I don’t need you to fix this, Sirius. I just need you to treat me like a person, not a… problem to be solved!”

“I don’t see you like that.”

“Yes, you do!” Remus’ voice cracked. “Every time you look at me, it’s like you’re waiting for me to disappear! I’m not going to vanish! I haven’t gone anywhere”

“You’re already half gone, Remus!” Sirius snapped. “You’re slipping through my fingers and pretending it’s normal! You’re not sleeping, you barely talk to anyone. You flinch when I touch you. You look out the window like the lake is calling your name. You’re half gone and you think I haven’t noticed?”

“I can’t breathe,” Remus said, voice law but shaking with restraint. “When you’re always here, watching like that, I can’t breathe, Sirius.”

Sirius flinched, but held his ground. “I’m trying to help–”

“Help?” Remus snapped, rounding on him. “You think this is helping? Hovering like I’m a mad creature about to bolt? Acting like I’m some wounded thing you need to manage?”

“I’m just…I’m scared for you, alright?”

“I don’t need your fear, Sirius. I just need space.”

Sirius’ jaw clenched. “I can’t watch you fade away and do nothing.”

“Then don’t watch,” Remus spat, the words came out colder than he meant. “Go find someone else to obsess over.”

Sirius reeled back like he’d been struck. His face went utterly still. No anger, no hurt, just that blankness he wore like armor. 

A long silence passed between them.

“Right,” Sirius said finally, too quietly.

He turned on his heel and walked away, fast, sharp steps echoing on the stone floor without another word.

Remus didn’t stop him. 

And when Remus heard the wooden door slam shut at the bottom of the stairs, the tower felt colder than the night outside. He knew he had been harsh, but the words had already been spoken.

The silence that followed was deafening.Neither of them spoke again for days. Not at dinner. Not in the dorm, not in the corridor where Sirius always waited for him after class. Neither of them went to each other’s beds in the middle of the night. Remus felt hollow, but at least he wasn’t being watched like a bomb about to go off.

He didn’t talk to Sirius, and he didn’t talk to nearly anyone else either.

And to make matters worse, the next incident came two days later. A second-year Hufflepuff student had been found unconscious in a flooded corridor near the Divination stairwell, his robes soaked, skin tinged blue, chest barely rising. Madam Pomfrey said he would recover. Frostbite, mild hypothermia, a touch of magical shock. But Remus couldn’t stop staring at the place on the map where it had happened. That part of the castle wasn’t anywhere near the usual plumbing. There was no explanation anyone could give that made sense.

But Remus knew.

The lake was reaching again. It was unbalanced. It was stretching farther than it ever had, reaching for Remus. 

Just like before. Just like the way water puddled in corridors with no rain in sight. Just like when water magically dragged a student down a dry corridor. He stared at the wooden floor of his dormitory that night until his eyes ached.

Someone could’ve died.

Another student. A child. 

And all because Remus was too selfish. Too afraid. Because he kept clinging to the thin hope that maybe he could stay, that maybe the lake wouldn’t demand this from him, that maybe it would balance out naturally. That maybe he could still be human a little longer.

But every time he hesitated, the water reached farther.

He didn’t want to let it happen again. Not when he had the power to stop it. Not when he knew the price, and had already waited too long to pay it, allowing others to suffer.

On the night of the second of March, Remus woke up shaking, that final dream still clinging to him. He could hear the voice, low and reverent and mournful.

It needs what lies between. 

From two magics, peace.

You are the balance.

He knew what he had to do. He had known for a long time. But he never had the courage to follow through.

Everyone would be fine eventually. James would bury himself in Quidditch. Lily would be angry for a while, but she’d understand. Peter… well, Peter would probably carry on. Sirius–

Remus closed his eyes tightly.

Sirius wouldn’t understand. Probably never would.

But Remus still silently slipped from bed without a sound. The enchanted cloak was folded on top of his trunk, resting where it always waited for him. He clutched it briefly in his hands, inhaled the scent of it, always somehow smelling like Sirius. Then he laid it back down, glanced briefly at each of his friends. At Sirius, whose long, dark hair was splayed out on his pillow like a halo. He swished the curtains around his bed closed, and with a final breath, he exited his dorm for the final time. The halls of the castle were still and dark as he made his way to the lake. 

The surface was like glass in the cave, dark and beckoning. He hadn’t even brought his wand with him, knowing he wouldn’t need it anymore. He left it behind, tucked under his pillow on his bed, hoping maybe James or Sirius would eventually find it. 

He didn’t hesitate again. He just dove.

The cold gripped him instantly, cutting through his skin, but he didn’t flinch. The transformation took hold with startling ease, as if the lake had been waiting. As if it knew he was coming. Bones shifted, his legs fused, and scales shimmered into being across his skin.  The change wasn’t painful this time. It was quiet and certain.

He swam forward in silence, breath slow, each flick of his tail drawing him deeper into the murk and magic. The world above faded.

He swam deeper, muscles moving on instinct. The current grew colder the farther he went, dense and pressing. The light from the surface dimmed to a faint shimmer above him, like a memory he could no longer touch.

The Vodyanoy emerged like ghosts, pale shapes in the darkness, drifting on the currents. Their dark eyes glowed faintly, cold and ancient, full of knowledge Remus could not name. They circled him slowly, as if confirming he was real. 

One moved forward. Its form was skeletal and fluid all at once. When it spoke, its voice sounded like water cracking beneath ice.

“You have come,” it said. “You are ready.”

Remus nodded, jaw tight. His heart thudded, painfully human, in his chest. But he didn’t hesitate.

 “I’ll do it. I’ll give it up,” he said, his musical voice rasping in the water. “My humanity. If it means peace and no one else gets hurt, then take it.”

There was a long silence. The creature’s face tilted, unreadable.

“The sacrifice will be taken on the full moon.”  

“Saturday,” Remus said. “Alright.”

“You cannot leave the lake until the time has come,” the creature added, drifting closer. “We must keep you safe. You must not harm again.”

“I didn’t mean to–” Remus began, but stopped. He remembered the way the creature had bled and gone still. How it screeched when he drove its own spear into its side. Just as Dumbledore had once told him, the lake had not forgotten.

Green vines pulsing with magic rose from the lakebed. Remus tensed, his body coiled and ready, but the Vodyanoy’s voice was gentle now.

“It is not punishment. It is protection. For you, and for us.”

The vines wrapped around his tail. It wasn’t tight or painful, not the binds from the year before. Just a tether, firm and unyielding, winding around the base of his tail above his fins and anchoring him to the floor of the lake like a soft shackle.

Remus let out a shaky breath and nodded. “Fine.”

And even as part of him wanted to fight, to swim for the surface and scream until someone came to drag him back, another part, a quieter, exhausted part, knew this was what he had always been drifting toward.

And now there was nowhere left to run.

He lowered himself slowly, curling his tail beneath him, letting the vines hold him. His body adjusted to the water’s pressure, the subtle sway of current, the familiar cold seeping deep into his chest.

It was quiet, and he found his thoughts drifting towards Sirius.

He hadn’t meant to think of him, not now. Not when his chest already felt too tight. But Sirius was stitched into him too deeply to be ignored. His voice echoed faintly in the back of Remus’ mind, sharp and desperate from their fight.

You’re half gone and you think I haven’t noticed? I’m scared for you.

Remus swallowed hard, the pressure of the lake closing around his throat. He hated how vividly he remembered how Sirius' face had crumpled, furious and hurt all at once. Then morphed into cold indifference. His mask. He hated how he’d left things like that.

He hated that he hadn’t said goodbye.

But maybe this was easier. For Sirius at least.

He would be furious when he found out. He would curse and probably punch a wall. Maybe he’d even dive into the lake himself in some reckless, impulsive fit. But by then…

By then it would be done.

And maybe, Remus thought with a kind of tired, resigned sorrow, that was for the best. It hurt less this way. No drawn-out goodbyes. No chances to be talked out of it. He hadn’t been around much lately anyway, not with the lake clawing at his ribs and the pull in his spine growing stronger every day.

By the time Sirius really noticed he was gone… it would already be too late.

This was his world now. He would have to get used to it.

He would have to let go. 

The days passed quietly below the surface. Light filtered through the water and shifted with each sunrise and sunset, but there was no true sense of time in the lake’s depths. Only the slow stretch of stillness, the faint throb of magic in the water around him, and the dull ache of the vines that kept him tethered to the lakebed.

They weren’t tight, not like before. Not like when he’d been dragged down. These vines coiled gently around his tail, anchoring him in the lake. He could move, but not far. Just enough to float a few feet in any direction before the soft tension reminded him that he was not meant to leave.

The Vodyanoy hadn’t spoken to him again.

They drifted past sometimes, slow and silent, their dark round eyes watching. They didn’t look angry. More like… waiting. As if now that he had agreed to their terms, he was no longer something to fear, only something to observe.

They would occasionally bring him a dead, limp fish for food. Remus hated the way it floated toward him, mouth agape with its dead eyes. The first time, he let it drift away. But eventually his stomach started twisting painfully, and he forced himself to eat.

He gagged halfway through, the taste of raw lake fish briny and sharp, but he swallowed it down. He told himself he’d have to get used to it.

Stuck with nothing to do but look out at the cool, still water of the lake, his mind often wandered.

What would it be like, truly be like, after the change?

Would he still look like himself? Would he keep his eyes, his face, his voice?

Or would the lake take those things?

Would his scales cover his whole body until he was unrecognizable?

Would he go gray, like the other merfolk of the lake, bones shifting until he was hunched and unfamiliar, skin sloughing off into something scaled and permanent? 

Would he have his memories? Would he remember James and Peter? Lily? His mum? Sirius?

Would he remember his own name?

The thoughts came in waves. At first they frightened him. Then, slowly, they dulled into something quieter. Not peace, exactly, but a numb sort of resolve. It was easier not to panic. Easier not to dwell on everything that would be lost.

Instead, he reminded himself that this was for the best. No one else would be hurt. No more drowning corridors, no more frozen lungs, no more dreams, no more near-deaths, no more looming catastrophes. The lake would be balanced again, maybe for centuries after this.

And all it had asked for was him.

He had already started to fade from the edges of things, distancing himself from all of the people that mattered. It was better this way.

Soon, the waiting would end and the full moon would rise.

Chapter Text

Sirius

It was Thursday morning, and the castle had the sluggish, grey-edged weight of early March clinging to it. A soft frost still coated the windows, and the corridors were quiet save for the shuffling of students heading to first period. Voices echoed faintly from the common room at the bottom of the stairs.

Sirius lay in bed with his arm over his eyes, pretending not to hear James getting dressed.

And especially pretending that he didn’t want to look over at Remus’ bed.

The last words they had exchanged days ago still echoed in his skull.

Go find someone else to obsess over.

Of course Remus would say that. Of course he’d pull away like he always did, make Sirius feel like a burden for caring. Sirius had stormed off, heart hammering, fingers curled into fists, and he hadn’t looked back.

And he hadn’t gone to him since.

He was proud of that. Sort of.

Still, when he finally sat up that morning, scrubbing a hand through his hair, his eyes flicked instinctively to the bed beside his.

The curtains around Remus’ bed were still drawn.

Sirius frowned. Remus was almost always up before him. Always dressed, ready for breakfast, or already sitting in the armchair by the window, flipping through a book. But the bed curtains were still shut. Maybe… maybe he was just tired. He hadn’t been sleeping lately, plagued by the constant dreams. Maybe Pomfrey had given him a dreamless sleep potion. Maybe he just needed the rest.

Sirius tore his gaze away.

Fine. Good. Let him rest.

Later in the day during lessons, he didn’t look for him. Not once. Not even in Defense, when he normally would’ve leaned over to make some smart comment or pass a note folded into a square. He chose to sit near the front so he wouldn’t even have to look. Not in Charms, where they usually partnered. Sirius wasn’t looking. He couldn’t.

He wanted space? Fine. Let him have all the bloody space he wants. 

When he returned to the common room, James was already sprawled on the sofa, wand flicking Gobstones lazily while Peter hovered over a chessboard. And while a part of him was relieved to see that Remus was missing from the group, a part of him was even more annoyed at his absence. “Alright, Pads?” James called out, voice cheerful.

Sirius grunted in reply and slouched into the armchair by the fire.

James frowned. “What’s crawled up your arse?”

“Nothing.”

Peter glanced up. “You look miserable.”

“Thanks.”

James narrowed his eyes. “Did you and Remus have another row?”

Sirius shot him a glare. “Piss off.”

That earned a raised eyebrow, but not follow-up. James had learned not to press when Sirius was in a mood.

Only Lily, curled in the corner chair with a book in her lap, looked at him with something more. Quiet understanding. A glint of knowing. Sirius was sure that she was aware of the fight that occurred between them. She didn’t say anything, just turned a page with delicate fingers and didn’t look away.

Sirius hated how it made him feel seen.

He stayed there for a long time, pretending to care about the Gobstones game, trying to convince himself he wasn’t itching to go upstairs to see if Remus was sulking alone in the dorm by himself. To see if he was actually just ignoring him.

Or maybe…

Maybe he was off with Fletcher, curled up under some tree on the grounds or reading by the lake together.

He hated how his mind always circled back to Callum Fletcher.

Sirius couldn’t deny that he was handsome and tall and kind. Fletcher, who knew Remus’ secrets now. Who didn’t flinch at the idea of a tail or shimmering scales. Who didn’t hover. Who didn’t obsess.

Maybe that’s what Remus wanted. Someone who could sit next to him and not make it obvious how terrified they were of losing him. 

Sirius stared at the fire until it blurred.

He clenched his jaw and told himself he wasn’t going to check on him.

If Remus wanted space, fine. Let him have it.

Let him sulk. Let him be with someone better.

Later in the day, Sirius found himself in the library, continuing his research. He shoved open the library doors and stalked towards the mythology section where he found himself spending a decent amount of time these days. The books were already familiar. He’d been pulling every volume on ancient lake spirits and magical equilibrium he could find for weeks. He hadn’t told anyone about what he’d pieced together, not Lily, not James, and definitely not Remus.

Because Sirius had figured out that the lake didn’t need Remus’ human half.

That was just one way. A guaranteed way, sure. But not the only one.

The lake needed balance. It needed the merging of human and mer-magic to restore whatever had gone wrong, just like Lily said. But nothing in the texts and stories he’d found said it had to be Remus. It only said it had to be a being of both worlds. A threshold. A tether.

And if that was the case, if his theory was right… Sirius could do it. 

If he gave up his human half, if he became like Remus, then wouldn’t that be enough? Wouldn’t that satisfy the lake’s demand? Wouldn’t two of them be stronger than Remus sacrificing his human half and being lost to the lake?

Remus would never agree. Sirius knew that. He’d get that stubborn tilt in his jaw, that heavy silence like judgment, and shut the idea down before Sirius even finished the sentence. It would be a fight. And they couldn't afford another fight. Not right now.

Sirius slammed a book shut and leaned back in the chair, staring at the high windows as if they could tell him what to do. 

He would tell Remus eventually. He had to. But not now. Not when they weren’t even speaking. 

By Friday, Sirius hadn’t said a word to him. His bed curtains were always closed when Sirius woke up, and drawn by the time he returned from meals or the common room or the library. No books by the armchair. No half-drunk tea growing cold on the desk. No ink smudges on parchment from Remus’ messy handwriting, no cardigan slung across his trunk.

Just… absence.

He didn’t ask James or Peter if they’d seen him. He didn’t stop by the library again, just in case. He didn’t walk to the edge of the lake where Remus sometimes went to be alone, or wander the lower halls near the boathouse. He didn’t check the Hospital Wing. He didn’t ask Lily. He didn’t do any of those things.

Because that would be proving Remus right, wouldn’t it?

That he was obsessive. That he couldn’t leave him alone. That he was nothing more than a dog sniffing at his heels, loyal and irritating and relentless. 

Remus had said he needed space. So Sirius clenched his jaw and let him have it.

Remus hadn’t sat at their usual spot for meals. Hadn’t waited after classes where Sirius was very purposely not looking at him. 

But that evening night, his unease had turned heavy. He told himself it was fine. That Remus was avoiding him, yes, but out of stubbornness. That he was probably sulking with Fletcher in some quiet alcove, telling him how dramatic Sirius was. Maybe letting Fletcher hold his hand, or brush his hair out of his eyes. Sirius told himself he didn’t care. That Remus was free to hang about with whoever he liked.

But those lies grew bitter, even in his own head.

It wasn’t just that he hadn’t seen him.

There were no signs of him at all.

The dorm felt wrong. Quiet in a way it had never been, not even during full moons of those first few years when Remus was gone. Because this was worse. This was absence without explanation. A vanishing act that Sirius wasn’t invited to witness. 

He sat at the foot of his bed late Friday night, elbows propped on his knee, thumb pressed to his lip. He stared across the room at Remus’ bed. The curtains were already drawn, perfectly neat. He thought that maybe if he stared long enough, Remus would finally pull those curtains back and ask him to come into bed with him again. 

But the longer Sirius stared, the more silence closed in around him.

He thought about what Remus had said. About not being able to breathe. About feeling like Sirius was suffocating.

He tried to be angry again, tried to reach for the white-hot spike of frustration that had carried him through most of the day. But it slipped from his grasp now. All that was left was a dull, sick thrum in his chest. An emptiness that made his hands shake if he didn't tuck them beneath his arms.

Tomorrow was the full moon. And Remus couldn’t ignore him forever.

Sirius hadn’t realized he was waiting, really waiting, until Saturday morning, when the quiet finally became unbearable.

At first, he’d told himself it was fine. They’d had a fight, and Remus was probably sulking somewhere, drinking cold tea and avoiding everyone, not just him.

But when Sirius came down to breakfast and saw once again only James and Peter at the table, it hit a little harder than expected.

“He’s probably just sleeping in,” he muttered aloud, unprovoked, as he dropped onto the bench beside James. 

Peter frowned. “On the morning of a full moon? Isn’t he always up before any of us?”

“He’s done it before.”

James raised a brow. “Not really, mate.”

Sirius ignored the coil of unease and waved them off. He didn’t mention that Remus hadn’t even drawn his bed curtains this morning. Again.

He didn’t say anything when he walked past their favorite study alcove in the library that afternoon and it was empty. He cut through the corridor by the third-floor tapestry where Remus had once pulled him aside to steal a kiss. Sirius didn’t mean to check these places. He just…noticed that they were all empty.

When he checked the dormitory, there was no half-drunk cup of tea or opened books, no Remus curled in the corner with a blanket in his lap by the fire in the common room. 

The curtains were still drawn. He yanked them open.

Empty.

No books. No robes. No signals of life.

Except his navy cloak. Folded neatly at the foot of the bed, untouched. And sticking out from beneath the pillow–

Sirius’ breath caught.

The tip of a wand.

He grabbed it, staring. His heart was racing now, too loud in his ears. Remus would never leave his wand.

“Shit,” he whispered. “Shit, shit, shit.”

He bolted back down the stairs, two at a time. He didn’t know where he was going at first. Dumbledore. He had to talk to Dumbledore.

But when he reached the gargoyle, it didn’t move. McGonagall, appearing from a nearby corridor, told him quietly that the Headmaster was away for the weekend, attending some emergency at the Ministry.

Sirius barely heard her. He turned and ran again. 

He found Callum Fletcher outside the greenhouse, pulling off a pair of dirt-covered gloves. “Fletcher!”

The boy straightened at the sharpness of Sirius’ tone. “Er, hi?”

“Have you seen Remus?”

He looked genuinely confused. “Not since Tuesday afternoon. Why?”

Sirius didn’t bother answering. He was already moving again.

Lily. She’d know. She always knew.

He caught her just before lunch. “Lily!”

Her eyes widened when she saw him. “What’s wrong?”

“You haven’t seen Remus, have you?”

She hesitated. That told Sirius everything.

“No,” she said slowly. “Not since last week. I just thought he was… avoiding you. After the fight.”

Something broke open in Sirius’ chest. “He’s not avoiding me,” he said, his voice suddenly hoarse. “He’s gone. He left everything. The cloak, his wand. He’s not in the castle.”

Lily’s face went slack. “You think..?”

“He went to the lake.”

Silence stretched between them as Lily grasped what he meant. Months of research, trying to figure out how to fix this, and now…

“Sirius–”

“I have to find him.”

“You don’t know what you’re walking into. If he’s already–”

“I don’t care,” Sirius snapped, but his voice wavered, raw and breaking. He paced in front of her, hands trembling, eyes wild. “I figured it out, Lily. The lake, what it wants. It doesn’t need Remus’ humanity. Not his. Just a balance. It needs a sacrifice, someone to bridge the gap. Someone who can give up enough of their human side and become like him.”

Lily’s brow furrowed. “Sirius…”

He pressed on. “I could do it. If the lake just needs more mer-magic, if it needs someone to be tied to it, to the tides and the moon and water like Remus is… then I could be that. That’s balance, isn’t it? That’s what it wants. I give up some of my own humanity, half, just like they want from Remus. And the lake gains new magic from a new merman. An exchange. Humanity to become mer. Just like they want from Remus. But I’ll take on those halves to become like Remus, so he doesn’t give all of himself to the lake.”

Lily stared at him, frozen. Her mouth opened once, then closed. Her eyes darted to the floor, working through the logic, through all the things she’d learned while helping Remus. The history of the lake, the ancient magic beneath it, the nature of sacrifice and choice.

And then he saw it, the way her expression shifted, the way her breath caught.

“You think it would work,” Sirius said quietly.

Lily looked up, and there was no denial in her eyes now. “I think… I think it might.” But then her expression hardened, just slightly. “But Sirius– wait. You can’t just run off and do this. You know what it’s been like for Remus. What he goes through. The transformations, the way the lake pulls at him every month. If you do this, there’s no going back. You don’t know what it will take from you.”

“I don’t care,” Sirius said again hoarsely, shaking his head. “I might already be too late, Lily. But if there’s even a chance…” Sirius stopped, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to calm his pounding heart. “If there’s a chance I can stop him, if I can bring him back, then I have to try.”

Her lips pressed together, and for a moment she just looked at him. Really looked. At the wild grief behind his eyes. At the way his hands shook. At the crack forming beneath all that rage and panic. 

“You love him,” she whispered.

Sirius didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

Finally, Lily exhaled, defeated and quiet. “Do you want me to help? Do you need anything–?”

“No,” he said quickly, already backing away. “Just…tell the others what happened if I don’t come back. If neither of us comes back.”

Lily’s breath hitched. She stepped forward and, without a word, pulled Sirius into a hug.

He stiffened in surprise. He hadn’t thought Lily liked him all that much, just tolerated that he was around because she was so close with Remus, but then his arms wrapped around her tightly, gratefully.

She whispered against his shoulder, “Be safe. Please. Bring him back.”

Sirius nodded into her hair, jaw clenching, heart pounding.

Then he pulled away and ran. Through the corridors, through the silence of the castle, down toward the lake. Toward Remus. 

Chapter Text

Remus knew that it was Saturday. The full moon would rise that evening. He had tracked the sunrises and sunsets, and now something in the water had shifted. The magic of the lake felt heavier, fuller. The way it pressed around him now felt like something expectant, something on the verge of unravelling. The Vodyanoy drifted closer than usual, silent but alert. Remus could feel them watching. 

He sat hunched near the lakebed, picking half-heartedly at another limp, dead fish that they had brought to him earlier that morning. He’d forced down a few bites before gagging, stomach roiling at the taste. It wasn’t that he wasn’t hungry. It was just that everything about the texture, the cold, the brine, it made him want to retch.

He stared at it now, floating upside down, mouth gaping.

“I hope whatever you turn me into actually likes raw fish,” Remus muttered under his breath, glowering a it. “Because I swear to fucking Merlin, if I have to eat this every day for the rest of eternity…”

The vines at his tail shifted slightly with the current, reminding him, again, that there would be no storming off, no pacing, no escape. He sighed and settled back against a rock, arms folded.

A few of the creatures had gathered near a jagged outcrop in the distance. Not close, but closer than they usually dared linger when they weren’t bringing him food. Three of them hovered, unmoving, their webbed hands folded, bodies swayed gently in the water. They were speaking, or something like it, but it wasn’t like before. When they addressed Remus, their voices echoed with water and magic. Th is was different. Their voices were a thrum of sound in the water, vibrating faintly. Something fast and urgent.

They glanced at him once more.

Eventually, two of them peeled away, swimming off into the shadows beyond Remus’ vision. 

He frowned and shifted forward against the vines. “What’s going on?” he asked, raising his voice slightly.

One of the remaining creatures turned toward him. Its face was expressionless, but its eyes glinted with something. Maybe annoyance.

“A complication,” it said simply.

Remus’ heart thudded. “What kind of complication?”

But the Vodyanoy turned away without answering and swam after the others.

Remus glared after it, frustration boiling low and sharp in his chest. He strained against the vines instinctively, tail muscles flexing, but they held firm. Not painful, just immovable.

He sank back down again with a growl of frustration, curling his tail beneath him. His fingers brushed the lakebed, dragging absently through the silt. The silence returned, thicker than before. Tense.

Time passed. He could track the movement of the light, soft and golden near the surface, now slipping deeper into dusk as the sun began to set beyond the surface. The day was nearing its end. The moon would rise soon. 

It was almost time.

He swallowed and tried to keep his breathing even. This was it. This was what he’d chosen. He wasn’t afraid exactly. But he couldn’t help wondering…

What would it feel like?

Would it hurt?

Would he remember anything afterward?

Would he still feel like himself?

He blinked slowly, forcing the thought down. No more questions. No more fear. This was for the best. This would keep everyone safe. Even Sirius.

Even if Sirius hated him forever for it.

He was just beginning to close his eyes when the current shifted.

He stilled, head lifting. In the distance, he saw the two creatures returning. But this time, they didn’t appear to be alone.

There was something between them. Someone.

Remus’ heart dropped.

At first, it was just a blur. A shape between their webbed, clawed hands, smaller, struggling slightly. But as they got closer he saw it.

He saw the black hair, the familiar scowl, the stupid reckless gleam in his eyes.

“Sirius.”

Remus surged forward, but the vines caught immediately, yanking him back with a snap. He twisted, fought, reaching, calling out.

“Sirius!”

Sirius turned in the water at the sound of his name. There was a glimmer of recognition, and then relief. “Remus!”

His voice rang out clearly though the water, his Bubble-Head Charm cast, shimmering like glass over his mouth and nose. Remus could hear him, almost perfectly, like he was speaking through a tunnel.

“What the hell are you doing?” Remus shouted.

“I came for you!” Sirius kicked against the hold of the Vodyanoy, but they didn’t release him. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine– Sirius, you have to go! You can’t be here, it’s not safe–”

The creatures that had remained swam closer now, watching silently. The other two dragged Sirius down to the lakebed, closer to where Remus was bound.

“Sirius, you idiot, why–” Remus thrashed against the vines, heart hammering in his chest. 

The water around him crackled with movement, and two new vines shot up from the lakebed and wrapped firmly around his wrists, pulling him back. 

“Stop,” one of the creatures said, voice low and echoing. “You must not interfere.”

Remus stared at them, wide-eyed. “What are you doing? Let me go–”

The Vodyanoy turned to him, gaze steady.

“This human wizard,” it said calmly, “has come to take your place. Willingly.”

Remus went still. The world tilted.

“No,” he breathed.

But Sirius was already looking at him, eyes fierce, and nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “I have.”

“No,” Remus said again, louder this time, twisting furiously against the vines coiled around his wrists. “No, you can’t– He didn’t– He doesn’t know what he’s doing!”

The vines held fast, biting into his skin. The water churned faintly around him with each thrash, but they did not yield.

“Calm yourself,” one of the Vodyanoy commanded. Its voice was still toneless, but there was something cold beneath it. “You must not fight.”

Sirius, still suspended between the two creatures, struggled slightly as the water carried him closer to the lakebed. His expression was taut with effort, but he wasn’t panicking, not like Remus. 

“Remus,” Sirius said, his voice reverberating through the water. “It doesn’t have to be you. If they need someone to give up their humanity, I can do it, too. We can fix this.” 

Remus shook his head, gasping. “No– no, you’re not listening– This isn’t a spell or a charm Sirius. Your magic alone isn’t enough, you can’t just sacrifice–”

“It is,” Sirius interrupted. “I’ve read everything I could. And I used the research from Lily to work it out. If what the lake wants is someone tied to both worlds…someone to give up part of their humanity, then I can do that. I can be like you, Remus. Half human. Half mer. And you don’t have to give up your other half. You can stay. We can both stay.”

Remus’ body went still. Then his eyes widened, and something raw broke through his voice.

“No,” he breathed. “No, you don’t get it. You can’t– you can’t want that–”

His voice rose as he thrashed again against the vines. “This isn’t some grand gesture, Sirius, this isn’t noble. This is… this is a curse. You don’t know what it does, what it takes. It’s painful, and it pulls at you, every day, every full moon, and it doesn’t stop. It never stops.” His chest heaved, eyes wild. “You’ll hate it. You’ll hate me. You’ll never be free again, Sirius. You’ll belong to the water.”

Sirius, still held between the Vodyanoy, looked like he wanted to speak again, to argue. The vines on Remus twisted tighter, reacting to his panic, his resistance.

But the creatures had already begun speaking among themselves. Their language vibrated through the water, low pulses and icy tones that made the space between Remus’ ears feel warped. He tried to decipher it, but only fragments reached him, half translated through whatever strange magic they used.

Two sacrifices. 

Both willing.

Greater magic

Mer. 

Tidebound.

Balance. 

Doubled.

The words made Remus’ stomach turn.

One of the creatures swam closer, drifting into his eyeline. “His offer would be sufficient,” it said, turning its dark gaze briefly to Sirius. “He would become like you. Magic, changed. Half of what he was. Half of what you are. Bound to the water and the moon. We accept this.”

“NO!” Remus shouted, straining forward again. “He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t want this!”

“I do,” Sirius interrupted, his voice calm but fierce. “I want you safe. I want you alive .”

Another Voydanoy turned, its mouth curling faintly in what could almost be a smile. “Two during the moons. Two bound to water. The lake will hold more strength than before. Balance for centuries to come.”

Sirius’ lips tightened, but he nodded once, resolute. “Then do it. Let me be the one.”

“No,” Remus whispered. “No, no, please…”

But the creatures didn’t seem to care about pleading. They had already decided.

The two that held Sirius began to descend, pulling him down toward the floor of the lake. He didn’t resist. His eyes were locked on Remus, unwavering.

Remus tried again to move toward him, throwing his full weight against the vines, but something in the magic sensed it and reacted.

The vines lashed tighter around his tail, new ones surging from the dark, snaking around his arms and binding them to his sides. The lakebed itself seemed to grasp him, determined to keep him in place.

“Sirius!” he shouted, voice cracking.

More vines, green and slick, like the ones that held Remus, shot from the rocks beneath Sirius and coiled around his ankles and wrists, binding him in an upright kneeling position just out of Remus’ reach. While he didn’t fight it, his chest rode and fell faster now inside the charm, heart clearly pounding. 

Remus surged again, the vines straining taught.

But Sirius remained still, staring at him with wide, unreadable eyes.

“Don’t do this,” Remus said, breathless, desperate. “Don’t let them– please– don’t let them do this to you–”

“Silence,” one of the creatures said, clearly the leader in the group of Vodyanoy. Its voice was low and cold, ancient in a way that scraped at his bones.

And in a merciless repeat of before, as if fate wanted to mock him by repeating that same nightmare from a year prior, another vine shot up and coiled swiftly around Remus’ face, tight but careful, cutting off his words mid-plea. His eyes widened in panic, chest heaving, but no sound came out.

Sirius’ expression flickered, torn between fury and helplessness. He lunged forward, but the vines at his ankles and wrists yanked taut, keeping him just out of reach. 

Remus thrashed against his own bindings, limbs taut, eyes pleading through the veil of water and silence. It was all happening again. Trapped. Helpless. Powerless to stop it.

The Vodyanoy gathered. Their voices began again, that strange, rhythmic language, vibrating through the lakebed. A deliberation. 

Then, finally, the leader turned back to them.

“You’ve been claimed,” it said to Sirius. 

It looked between them, Remus still writhing and silenced, and Sirius breathing hard through his bubble, eyes blazing with purpose. 

“This is rare,” the creature continued. “Two who offer. One whose bond already runs deep. Another who chooses it freely.”

There was a long pause. 

“In a few hours, when the moon is at its peak, we will return.”

The creatures began to retreat, flowing back into the dark. And then they were gone.

Remus sank, bound and breathless. Sirius strained forward, reaching again, fingers twisting in the space between them. The vines held them still, pulling at his wrists until they were pulled behind him. Separate and powerless.

The vine around Remus’ face kept his mouth closed, but not silent. Muffled noises bubbled out in protest. His bronze eyes were wide, furious and pleading. 

Sirius exhaled shakily and shook his head. “I had to,” he said, voice low, the Bubble-Head Charm carrying the words through the water. “You left. You thought you had to disappear for this, and I– I couldn’t let you.”

Remus jerked against his bonds, making another strangled noise, but all that came out was a frustrated “ Mmf-!”

“I know you think it’s a curse,” Sirius said quickly. “That it’s some horrible thing, being like this. But it’s you. And if it means saving you, keeping you alive, then I don’t care.”

He drifted slightly forward, but the vines held fast. The water between them shimmered, full of tension.

“You’re not alone in this,” Sirius said, quieter now. “Not anymore. The lake doesn’t need you to give up everything. It just needs balance.”

Remus made a louder sound, a garbled cry of frustration. His hands flexed against the vines, tail thrashing in the water.

“I couldn’t let you do it,” Sirius whispered. “I couldn’t let you disappear. Not like that.”

Remus’ eyes burned into Sirius, livid and desperate and hurting.

“And how could you leave like that?” Sirius snapped, suddenly louder. “You just… left. Not even a bloody goodbye, Remus.”

Remus jerked again, helpless to respond. His entire body trembled with the effort of straining against the vines. 

“You didn’t even give me the chance to fix it,” Sirius went on, voice cracking. “You were just going to vanish into the lake forever and let me think you hated me?”

Remus’ breathing hitched. His glare faltered.

Sirius shook his head, eyes shining. “You think I’m selfish, but you were the selfish one, Moony. You were going to vanish down here and leave everyone… leave me, without even saying goodbye.”

Remus made a quieter sound then, a faint grunt that almost sounded like Sirius’ name. His expression crumpled, like something inside him had cracked. He strained forward against the vines, just a little closer. The distance between them might as well have been miles.

“I couldn’t let you do it,” Sirius repeated. “Not like this.”

He met Remus’ gaze again. The rage was still there, but so was something else. Guilt and an ache. Then something else. Something bigger. Something Remus didn’t want to name quite yet.

“I’d rather live cursed beside you,” Sirius whispered, “than lose you forever.”

Remus froze.

“Please,” he continued. “Don’t hate me.”

He stopped struggling. Not in surrender, but in stunned, grieving stillness.

Then, slowly, he looked away. 

His shoulders were still tight, breath still ragged, but his eyes no longer met Sirius’.

Sirius tried to reach for him, but the vines didn’t give. He let his head fall forward, the weight of it all too much to bear. 

The lake stretched silent and dark around them, and all they could do now was wait.

Chapter Text

Time passed. The lake was unnervingly still. The Vodyanoy had vanished into the depths, leaving behind only the echo of their words and the haunting ripple of their magic in the water. The tether around Remus’ tail held fast to the lakebed, but something had changed. Perhaps sensing the change in Remus, no longer panicking or fighting against his bonds, the magic in the vines around his wrists shifted, less tense and rigid now. They pulsed once, then slackened, like something had decided he no longer needed to be held so tightly. 

Remus blinked slowly, feeling the subtle slack in his bonds. He twisted his arms experimentally. The vines uncoiled.

His fingers moved stiffly at first, numb from strain. He raised a hand to his face. The gagging vine twitched like it wanted to resist, but then released him, slithering away with a reluctant ripple.

Cool water rushed over his mouth and nose. He exhaled shakily and inhaled, relieved, even though the pressure of the lake and everything still to come weighed heavy in his chest. He looked up, and Sirius was already watching him.

Wrists and ankles still bound, arms forced behind him, and kept in a kneeling position, his eyes never left Remus’ face. The Bubble-Head Charm shimmered faintly around his face, and his hair floated weightlessly like a dark halo. He looked… tired. 

Remus dragged himself upright as much as he could, still tethered but only by the single vine at his tail. His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke.

“You’re such an idiot.”

Sirius let out a snort, soft and breathless. “Takes one to know one.”

Remus narrowed his eyes. “You came down here, offered yourself to be tied to a cursed lake, to become a merman, and you’re giving me attitude?”

“Yeah,” Sirius snapped. “Because you were perfectly happy to disappear forever. Do I need to remind you again that you didn’t even say a word, Remus?”

Remus winced. “That’s not the point.”

“No, the point is that you wanted to be a bloody martyr,” Sirius shot back, struggling against his own bonds. “Always you, always your burden, always thinking you’re the only one who can fix it.”

“I am the only one who–”

“No, you’re not,” Sirius growled. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. You’re not alone, Remus. You never were. But you keep acting like you’re some tragic hero who has to shoulder everything on his own.”

Remus looked away, jaw clenched.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The weight of the lake pressed around them again, silent and ancient, like it was listening.

Sirius’ voice softened. “You don’t need to do this alone. You don’t have to be alone.”

Remus didn’t answer at first. He stared at the shadows beyond, where the Vodyanoy had disappeared. His fingers curled into his palm. Then, finally, he looked back at Sirius.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, quieter now. “You didn’t have to come.”

Sirius met his gaze. “I did have to.”

Remus blinked hard. His throat felt heavy and tight, and he didn't trust himself to speak.

“Because if I lost you,” Sirius said, voice barely above a whisper, “then nothing else matters.”

The silence stretched between them like a current, pulling and pressing and crackling in the charged space between them.

Remus stared at him, breathing slow and deep now, trying and failing to loosen the tightness in his chest. Sirius looked back with something raw behind his gaze. Not anger. Not stubbornness. 

Just… want. Grief. Hope.

And something else. Something heavier.

Remus felt the words rising to the back of his throat. Big words. Final words. The kind of words that you couldn’t take back once spoken. They burned there, just behind his teeth aching to be said. 

But he didn’t say them. He couldn’t. Not yet.

So instead, he looked down at the shimmering edge of Sirius’ bubble, still floating around his face like a thin, iridescent shield. “Is your charm holding?” he asked quietly, voice rough with restraint.

Sirius blinked, caught off guard at the change in conversation. “Yeah,” he said. “Still stable.”

Remus nodded once. “Good. Because I can’t do much to help you if it fails.” He tilted his head downward then, flicking his fins and stretching his tail taut against the pull of the vines that still kept him in place. It pulsed faintly, anchoring him to the lakebed like a living shackle. “And you’re not a merman yet.”

At that, Sirius’ face faltered.

His expression twitched, just barely, but Remus saw it. The tight swallow. The flash of uncertainty. The sudden stillness in his shoulders. All that reckless courage that had carried Sirius into the lake, wavered just enough to reveal what was underneath.

He was scared.

Of course he was. 

And somehow, that realization hollowed Remus out more than anything else.

Sirius Black. Fearless, impulsive, defiant Sirius… was scared.

Remus swallowed hard and looked at him again, gaze gentler now. The weight of all the anger and panic from earlier seemed to dissolve into the water between them. All that was left was Sirius, tethered and trembling beneath the surface, and Remus, still bound to the lakebed.

“You really are unbelievable,” Remus said, quiet and careful. Not with blame or judgment, but something tender. “Charging in like you always do.”

Sirius bristled faintly, like he might argue again, but didn’t speak.

Remus tilted his head slightly, watching him, really watching him, not as a problem to solve or a reckless Gryffindor with half a plan, but as a boy who dove headfirst into danger because he couldn’t stand the thought of losing someone.

“You’re not supposed to fix everything, either,” Remus said, voice low, a little closer now, his tail pulling gently at the vines. “Not at the cost of yourself.”

“You weren’t going to come back,” Sirius whispered, eyes still burning with something fierce behind the fear.

“No,” Remus answered honestly. “I wasn’t.”

Sirius flinched like he’d been struck.

Remus’ heart twisted. He reached forward, able to sit closer to Sirius now that most of his vines receded. “You wouldn’t have let me go if I’d told you,” he continued. “You’d have followed me, just like you did. You always do.”

Sirius held his gaze.

“I thought… if I could just go, give myself up without dragging anyone else into it, then maybe no one else would get hurt.”

“And you thought I’d be fine?” Sirius whispered. “That I’d just… wake up tomorrow morning and get on with my life?”

Remus didn’t answer at first. The silence between them was soft, but taut.

Then finally, quietly: “No. I knew it would wreck you.” He swallowed hard. “But I thought… eventually, you’d forgive me for it. Eventually, you’d heal.”

Sirius laughed, humorless and bitter. “You absolute tosser.”

Remus’ mouth twitched. “I know.”

Another pause, the water thrumming faintly between them. 

Then Remus reached a little closer, testing the limits of the vines, and his hand rested on Sirius’s cheek, warm and steady. Sirius naturally leaned forward, but his vines held him too tightly to really move any closer to Remus.

“Everything’s going to change,” Remus said. 

Sirius swallowed. “I know.”

“If they go through with this– if you become like me…”

His fingers tightened slightly where they touched Sirius’ face.

“You’ll feel it,” he continued. “The tides, the pull of the moon, the cold of the lake settling into your bones. It’s not just swimming and breathing underwater. It’s waking up not knowing where your body ends and the water begins. It’s losing the shape of yourself. Not to mention the secrecy.”

Sirius met his gaze without flinching. “I don’t care.”

“You should,” Remus said softly. “You don’t know what it will take from you.”

“Neither did you,” Sirius replied. “But you did it anyway. You’ve lived through all of it. Maybe it’ll take something from me, but I’m not afraid of being like you, Remus. Not if it means that I can keep you. That you don’t just vanish from my life forever.”

Then…

The water shifted.

Remus felt it first. Not as a movement, but a presence. Like something ancient and cold had awoken. The current changed, the light had grown dim, and a deep pressure echoed in his chest, low and vibrating.

They were coming.

Sirius must have felt it, too. His back straightened, the color draining slightly from his face, and his eyes flicked to the darkness beyond.

From the shadows of the deep, the Vodyanoy emerged. 

Their forms were still, their eyes unblinking, and the water seemed to bend around them unnaturally. Remus stiffened as they swam forward, circling. Then, without a word, the vines around Sirius began to loosen. Sirius winced as his arms fell forward, released but weak. He quickly grabbed Remus’ hand, but two of the creatures were already reaching for him, hands curling around his arms.

“No,” Remus said immediately, panic rising. “No– don’t touch him!”

Remus surged forward, but the tether around his tail yanked him sharply back.

“Sirius–!”

“I’m fine,” Sirius said quickly, though his voice trembled at the edges. “I’m– Remus, it’s okay.”

It wasn’t. Remus could see it in his face, the flicker of panic behind his words, he way his hands clenched to hide the shaking. 

The creatures began to rise, pulling Sirius up with them, toward the distant shimmer of the surface. Sirius twisted slightly in their grip, trying to keep his eyes on Remus, but he was being taken. 

“No– please!” Remus shouted, fighting the vine and the helplessness in his chest. “Let me go with him. Please!”

One of the creatures, slower and smaller than the others, lingered behind. 

Remus turned to it, desperate. “Please– just tell me what they’re doing. What happens now?”

The creature blinked slowly, then answered in that icy voice. “The boy must see the moon. It begins there.”

Remus’ blood ran cold.

“What happens when he sees it?”

The creature tilted its head. “We will take what he has offered. Half of him. His humanity. His magic. What remains will be filled with what the lake offers. The same elemental tether that binds you.

“His body will not shift tonight. The change will come. You will swim with him then. He will be slow. Still human, for now.”

“And me?” Remus asked, voice raw.

“When the offering is made and the moon has seen him, your tether will release. You will be free to return. You must guide him when it is done.”

The creature turned to go.

Remus reached forward, voice cracking. “Please– just…Don’t hurt him. He didn’t know what he was doing. He was just trying to help.”

The creature did not look back. “He knew. And he chose.”

Then it vanished back into the dark, leaving Remus alone at the lakebed, trembling, heart pounding, staring up at the murky glow above. 

Time passed, Remus didn’t know how long. The lake pressed in around him, endless and quiet and dark, and his whole body trembled. Not from cold, but from fear.

What if it went wrong?

What if it went right?

He curled his fingers into his palm, breathing steadily through the water, trying to keep his thoughts from unraveling. The same way they had on the day he first realized what he was. The same way they had every full moon since. But this time, it wasn’t just his body changing. This was Sirius.

Remus’ eyes stung. 

He didn’t know how to track the time. The water had its own rhythm, slow and ancient. The moon must have risen already. Maybe it had passed its peak. Maybe Sirius had already changed. Maybe–

The vine around Remus’ tail loosened.

His body jolted, breath catching in his chest. He twisted instinctively, and the green tendril slithered away, drifting into the dark like smoke.

Remus hovered there, disoriented.

The Vodyanoy were nowhere in sight.

But something had shifted in the lake again. He could feel it in the way the magic thrummed beneath his skin, in the hush that wasn’t quite silent. In the absence that wasn’t quite peaceful.

He kicked hard and shot upward, slicing through the water.

If the one Vodyanoy that stayed behind was being honest, Sirius wouldn’t have transformed yet. Not completely. Remus didn’t know what he’d find, didn’t know what he could do, but he needed to see him. 

As he swam higher, a cluster of shapes came into view. A ring of the creatures half-submerged in the water, and a pair of pale legs in the middle of them all.

Remus swam faster.

He broke the surface with a splash, water streaming down his face.

Sirius.

He was limp in their grasp, arms hanging, head tilted back, eyes closed. Two Vodyanoy held him just above the surface, their long webbed fingers curled around his arms, supporting him like he weighed nothing at all.

Remus’ heart thudded.

All of the creatures shimmered faintly, like the lake itself was buzzing with a new charge of magic, pulsing and radiating. It stung the inside of Remus’ chest.

The leader turned to Remus.

“It is done,” it said. 

Remus swallowed, throat tight. “Is the lake fixed?” he asked. “Is it balanced now?”

The creature's eyes flickered, a translucent veil gliding over them in a strange, double-shutter blink. Then it gave a single nod.

Without another word, the circle dissolved. One by one, they slipped beneath the surface like falling shadows, vanishing back into the depths. 

Leaving Sirius behind.

Remus swam to him immediately, arms out, and the moment he was close enough, he pulled him into his hold, letting Sirius rest against his chest. His skin was warm against Remus', alive and breathing.

“Baby,” Remus whispered, brushing wet hair away from his forehead. “Hey. I’ve got you.” Words that Sirius had said to Remus countless times.

Sirius didn’t respond, his eyes closed in unconsciousness. His breathing was steady, and his chest rose and fell against Remus’.

Relief made him feel dizzy.

He adjusted his hold, one arm under Sirius’ shoulders, the other beneath his knees. They had to move. With the full moon high above, Remus wouldn’t be able to transform his tail until morning, but he knew the path to the cave.

Holding Sirius tightly, he began swimming in slow strokes toward the rocky shore. He kept their heads above the surface, eyes scanning below the water for the jagged slope of stone and the lip of the hidden underwater passage that led to their sanctuary. 

Remus paused. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against Sirius’ ear, then took a breath, shifted his grip, and pressed a hand over Sirius’ nose and mouth to keep any water out until he could resurface again.

Then he dove.

The water rushed around them. His tail beat in smooth, desperate arcs. It was only thirty seconds, maybe less, but every moment felt long and tortured with Sirius' unbreathing form in his arms. The tunnel narrowed, then opened again. Light shimmered faintly ahead.

Remus burst through the surface, and he immediately let go of his Sirius' face. He let out a gasp and a large inhale, but his eyes were still closed, still unconscious.

The quiet in the cave was so different from the desolation of days in the lake. Everything was softer and gentler.

Remus swam to the edge of the pool, shifted Sirius higher in his arms, and hoisted him onto the stone ledge. It took effort, but he didn’t stop until Sirius was laid gently on the floor. 

He was still breathing. Remus stared at his peaceful face. 

Alive, but changed.

The cavern echoed with silence other than the faint sound of water lapping against the rock. Remus touched his cheek again, still brushing away his hair. Still whispering his name.

And he waited.

Chapter Text

Remus didn’t sleep. He floated half-submerged in the cave pool, his elbows hooked over the ledge, his arms folded tight, and his eyes fixed on the boy lying beside him.

Sirius hadn’t moved since he’d laid him down.

The cave was still. Only the quiet drip of condensation from the ceiling and soft ripple of water broke the silence. No voices. No magic crackling through the air. Just the sound of Sirius breathing, slow and steady.

It should’ve been reassuring. But it wasn’t.

Remus’ chest ached in a dull, ceaseless kind of way. His head throbbed. His tail, still stretched out beneath the surface, flicked absently with every wave of anxious energy that rolled through him. His fingers trembled with the strain of staying still.

He didn’t dare look away.

Not when Sirius could wake up at any moment. Start changing at any moment. Not when something might go wrong. Not when he had no idea what the Vodyanoy had really done to him.

The light had begun to shift hours ago. Dawn. The full moon was fading. And the sun would rise soon.

Remus pressed his cheek against the rock, damp hair plastered to his skin. His body felt brittle, as if the water was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

It was strange, having his head above the surface after so many days beneath it. The weight of the air was different, like it was too thin and dry.

And the cave, this place he’d once feared he’d never see again, felt impossibly quiet now.

His eyes flicked to the far wall.

His clothes were still there, where he’d discarded them that night. A pile of fabric thrown to the ground without care. A shirt hanging halfway off a rock, one sock rolled in into the other, like he’d been too impatient to bother. He hadn’t thought he’d need them again. 

He’d said goodbye to this place and t o the world above.

And now… here he was again watching Sirius sleep on the stone floor.

Remus exhaled shakily, resting his chin on his folded arms. The silence was thick, and minutes dragged on like hours. He counted every breath Sirius took. Every twitch of his fingers. Every shift in the shadows.

Then–

A breath caught.

Remus straightened.

Sirius’ brow furrowed. His eyes moved beneath his lids. His chest rose slightly faster, his hand twitching against the stone.

Then he made a sound. A low, soft groan like he was trying to wake up from a deep sleep.

Remus leaned forward quickly, heart thudding. “Sirius?”

Sirius winced, face twisting. His lips parted. 

Then, slowly, painfully, Sirius opened his eyes. 

Remus nearly collapsed with relief. 

Sirius blinked slowly. His gaze was unfocused at first, snapping to Remus. He reached out instinctively, palm brushing against his cheek.

“Remus,” he breathed, like he wasn’t entirely sure he was real.

Remus leaned into the touch despite the cold. His eyes burned, throat tight with something he couldn’t name.

“You’re okay,” Remus murmured. “You’re here.”

Sirius didn’t respond right away. His fingers lingered on Remus’ jaw, thumb brushing lightly under his eye. His brows were furrowed, the space between them pinched with confusion.

Then his expression shifted and clarity returned to his gaze.

His eyes darted around the cave. He sat up suddenly, breathing hard and looked down.

At his legs.

At the water.

Then back to himself.

Panic bloomed on his face.

Remus pushed himself up onto the ledge more fully, trying to reach him. “Sirius, wait–”

Sirius scrambled backward, dragging in a shaky breath. His hands flew to his chest, down his sides, as if checking himself over. “What– what happened?” He asked. His voice was hoarse. “Why am I– this isn’t the lake–”

“We’re at the cave,” Remus said gently. “We’re safe. I brought you here.”

Sirius  looked at him then, properly and something flickered in his eyes. “The Vodyanoy… the circle. And then– fuck–”

He stood abruptly, swaying slightly before catching his balance. His clothes were stiff and a bit damp as he started pacing. Three short strides across the stone, then back. Again. His hand gripped the side of his neck, the other fisted at his side.

Remus pushed himself up higher on the ledge, the stone beneath his arms, but still trapped by his tail. “Sirius– hey, calm down.”

Sirius stopped and turned. His eyes were wide. “Am I– did they do it? Did it happen already?”

Remus hesitated. Then nodded. “They said it will take time.”

Sirius looked down at his hands, turning them over like they might be something else. “But it started,” he whispered. “I can feel it.”

Remus flinched. “Sirius–”

“I’m still me,” he said more to himself than to Remus. “I’m still–” He glanced toward the pool, like he expected to see something different in his reflection. 

Remus moved to the edge, resting both arms on the stone. His tail swished behind him, a heavy weight he couldn’t shake off yet. “It won’t happen all at once,” he said again, more gently.

Sirius let out a sharp breath, like he didn't know what to do with any of this.

“I don’t regret it,” he said finally, not looking at Remus. “But I didn’t think– I didn’t know how it would feel.”

Remus’ heart ached. “I know. Believe me, I know.”

There was a long pause. Sirius’ hand drifted back to his chest, fingers brushing over his sternum like he could feel the change beneath the skin. Then slowly, his gaze dropped again to Remus.

To the bronze sheen of his scales in the water. The faint shimmer of the water clinging to his skin.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I think I’m just… scared.”

Remus gave a small, sad smile. “I know, baby.”

Sirius knelt slowly, still staring at him, and reached forward until their fingers were intertwined again at the water’s edge. Remus held onto his fingers tightly, anchoring them both to the moment.

The water lapped quietly against the stone, cool and soothing around his scales. No moonlight reached them here. Only the faint glow of the near permanent enchanted lights casting soft light across Sirius’ pale skin.

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

Sirius shifted closer on his knees, his other hand moving to cradle Remus’ jaw again, like he needed to feel him, needed to confirm he was real. His thumb brushed beneath Remus’ eye, tender and reverent.

“I can’t believe you almost left me,” he said, almost inaudibly.

“I’m sorry,” Remus whispered.

Sirius leaned forward, resting his forehead against Remus’. The touch was featherlight, barely there, but it made Remus’ breath hitch. The closeness ached, reminding Remus of what he nearly gave up.

“I missed you,” Sirius said, voice raw.

“I didn’t stop thinking about you,” Remus breathed. “Even when I tried to. Especially then.”

Sirius turned his head slightly, just enough to press his lips to Remus’ temple. The kiss was light and lingering, almost hesitant. Remus leaned into it curling his fingers around Sirius’ wrist.

They stayed like that for a while, quiet, forehead to forehead, sharing breath and warmth while the cave held them.

Eventually, Sirius shifted again, dipping lower until his nose brushed Remus’. His mouth hovered there, uncertain. 

“Can I?” he asked softly.

Remus didn’t answer with words. He just pushed forward and kissed him.

It wasn’t frantic, as so many of their kisses were. It was slow, like both of them were afraid of shattering. Remus’ hand cupped the back of Sirius’ neck, holding him close, grounding him, while Sirius leaned forward more fully, practically sliding into the water.

The kiss deepened.

For a moment, nothing else existed. Not the lake. Not the curse. Not the pull of the moon or the fear of what would come next.

Just lips and hands and breath, the water between them no longer a barrier but something binding.

When they finally pulled apart, Sirius rested his forehead against Remus’ again, breath shaky.

“Please stay with me,” he murmured. “No matter what I become.”

Remus closed his eyes and held him close. “I will,” he whispered. “Always.”

Remus shifted slightly, his body instinctively curling closer to Sirius where he knelt by the water. The cave was still quiet but something had changed. The weight of the moon was gone.

Remus sat up straighter, breath catching. Sirius noticed immediately.

“What is it?” he asked, worry already creeping into his voice.

“Nothing,” Remus blinked “It’s…it’s morning. The moon’s gone. I can feel it.”

Sirius’ eyes widened, and he immediately moved to help him. “Come on, then. Let’s get you out of there.”

Carefully, Remus reached for him, and Sirius gripped him tightly, helping him ease up on to the edge of the stone. Remus’ tail glistened under the soft lights, bronze and heavy, the fins dragging behind him.

The change began immediately.

Remus gasped, his hands bracing against the stone, head dropping forward as his muscles spasmed.

“It’s alright,” Sirius murmured, immediately moving behind him, wrapping both arms around Remus’ chest. “I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

The transformation rolled over him in waves, scales retreating, bones twisting, the cool slick of his tail splitting painfully into legs once more. He clenched his teeth, pressing back into Sirius’ hold.

It wasn’t as bad this time. Still sharp, but less lonely as Sirius held him.

When it was done, Remus sagged against him, panting, legs trembling where they were now curled against the stone.

Sirius kissed the top of his bare shoulder gently. “You’re alright.”

Remus nodded faintly. “I’ve been through worse.”

They sat in silence for another minute before Sirius helped him stand. Remus wobbled slightly, his legs still feeling alien after days with a tail, but Sirius stayed close, letting him lean into him until the trembling passed.

“You sure you’re okay?” Sirius asked, eyes searching his face.

“I’m alright,” Remus said. “Just need to adjust after days down there.”

He turned slightly, glancing toward the pile of clothes by the wall, crumpled and carelessly abandoned.

“I didn’t think I’d need these again” he said, more to himself. Remus reached for them, dried his legs, and dressed slowly. When he turned back, Sirius was still watching him, quiet and thoughtful.

“They said your change wouldn’t happen right away,” Remus said. “Mine didn’t. Not until the next morning.”

Sirius nodded slowly. “I can feel something,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest. “Like there’s just something…humming." He paused, gaze drifting over to the water in the pool. "Do you think if I got in the water now… Do you think I’d–” Sirius choked on his words. “Remus, I can’t. I’m so scared.”

Remus looked at him for a long moment then gave a soft, understanding nod. “Whenever you’re ready.” 

Sirius wrapped his arms around Remus’ waist, tucking his head into Remus’ shoulder, and Remus held him until his breathing evened out, until he didn’t seem so close to panicking. When he pulled back, Remus scanned his face, looking for any more signs of distress. He only saw a pair of tired grey eyes. Remus leaned down and kissed his forehead before pulling him towards the mouth of the tunnel.

Their hands found each other again, fingers interlacing easily now, without fear or tension.

“Ready to head back to the castle?” Remus asked, giving his hand a light squeeze.

“As I’ll ever be.”

They made their way through the cave, up the familiar path toward the castle. The morning light was faint, hidden behind gray clouds.

Halfway through the hike, Sirius gave a soft groan.

“I’m going to have to explain all this to James and Peter, aren’t I?”

Remus let out a quiet laugh. “Eventually.”

Sirius made a face. “Can’t wait to see their expressions. James’ll ask if I’ve completely lost my mind.”

“You have,” Remus said dryly.

Sirius smiled, the first smile since this all started. “Yeah, maybe. Worth it, though.” 

They reached the edge of the forest. The castle loomed in the distance, golden in the sunrise.

“And just think,” Sirius added with a mock wistful sigh, “if my dear pureblood parents could see me now… turning myself into a merman for my halfblood merman boyfriend. They’d be absolutely thrilled.”

Remus snorted. “They’d probably try to have you exorcised.”

Sirius flashed him a wide, tired grin. His eyes scanned his face, and his expression changed.

“Hey,” Sirius said, stopping and turning to face Remus fully. “Your eyes.”

Remus reached up towards his face, brow furrowed.

“They’re darker,” Sirius said. “Like they’re becoming brown again.”

A sense of relief hit Remus like a wave. Finally. Finally. He felt that things were fixed. This was a sign, wasn’t it? That whatever reckless thing Sirius had done, what Remus had almost given up, it worked. 

Remus let out a laugh, the sound light and honest, and for the first time in months, he felt the tension start to fade. And together, hand in hand, they walked toward the castle. 

They stepped through the portrait hole just as the first rays of gray broke over the castle grounds. Remus wasn’t sure how his legs were still moving. His hair was damp, curls clinging around his ears, and his whole body slumped with exhaustion. But he was walking, and on two legs at that, inside the castle and past the Fat Lady, who blinked down at them in bleary-eyed confusion before swinging open.

He hadn’t expected to walk these halls again. Just yesterday, he’d been ready to give up everything. To let go of everything he’d ever known, and to disappear beneath the surface and never return.

But Sirius had followed him.

And now, here they were.

The common room was dark, but not empty.

Someone was curled on the couch closest to the fire, arms folded, legs tucked awkwardly beneath a blanket. Red hair spilled over one cushion, a forgotten book pushed on the armrest beside her.

Remus slowed, approaching her sleeping form quietly.

“Lily,” he whispered.

She didn’t move. 

He crouched down beside her. “Lily,” he said again, brushing her arm.

She stirred, blinked groggily, and then her eyes found his face.

For one long moment, she stared. Frozen, as though her mind couldn’t quite believe what her eyes were telling her.

Then she bolted upright.

“Remus!” she gasped, and threw her arms around his neck.

He stumbled slightly from the force of it, but didn’t pull away. Her grip was fierce and frantic, like she was anchoring him to the spot. He felt her breath hitch against his collarbone, felt the wet heat of tears on his shirt.

“You–” Her voice cracked. “You absolute idiot, Remus Lupin!”

“I know,” he murmured, hugging her back tightly.

“I thought you were gone,” she said into his shoulder. “I thought– I didn’t know–”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes blazing now. “Sorry? You left without saying anything! No note or warning, just vanished! Do you have any idea what it was like not knowing?”

Remus winced. “I didn’t want to lie.”

“You didn’t even give me the chance to help,” she snapped, voice trembling.

“Lily, you did more than help,” he replied. “But there wasn’t anything else that anyone could do.”

She shook her head, furious and relieved all at once. “You idiot,” she said again, but more softly this time. Then she looked past him to Sirius.

She blinked, as if surprised to see him standing there. Her expression flickered with confusion and then understanding.

She rose to her feet, crossed the room, and hugged Sirius, too.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for bringing him back.”

Sirius looked a bit stunned, but he hugged her in return. “Of course,” he said, voice hoarse.

Then she froze.

Her hand had landed on his back. And something in her posture changed, something sharp and perceptive. She pulled back and looked at him properly. Her green eyes swept over him. His too-still expression, the way he held himself like something was off-kilter.

She glanced between them. Remus, pale but grounded. Sirius, silent and tight-jawed.

“You… didn’t just bring him back,” she said, slowly. “Did you?”

Sirius just shook his head.

Lily’s breath caught. “You mean, you’re–”

“I’m okay,” Sirius said quickly. But Lily knew.

She’d seen the quiet tremor in his hand, the look of fear that lingered in his eyes. 

Lily exhaled shakily. “Oh my god.”

Remus reached for her hand. “He saved me, Lily. I wasn’t coming back. But he found a way.”

“I just can’t believe it worked,” she said quietly, looking at both of them like she was trying to reconcile what she knew with what she was seeing.

And then she nodded slowly, tears still in her eyes. A new kind of awe was settling on her face.

“I hope you two know,” she said quietly, “you’re absolutely mental.”

Sirius gave a weak laugh. “We’ve been told.”

Lily swiped at her face and sat down heavily on the couch. “I need tea. Or sleep. Or possibly both.”

“You should go to bed,” Remus said softly.

She nodded. “You too. Both of you. You look like you’ve been drowned and dragged back.”

“Pretty accurate,” Sirius muttered.

Lily cast him one more lingering look. “We’re talking about this later.”

“I know,” Remus said. 

“And Remus?” she added as she headed towards the girls’s stairwell. “Don’t ever leave like that again.”

“I won’t.” She nodded and disappeared up the stairs. 

Remus and Sirius climbed the stairs in silence, their limbs heavy with exhaustion. Every step felt like a small mountain, every shadow a reminder that it was still barely morning, that the castle hadn’t quite woken up yet, but the two of them had already lived an entire lifetime since nightfall.

The dormitory was still and dim, lit only by the soft light filtering in through the tall windows. Peter was snoring faintly in his bed near the door, one leg kicked out from under his covers. James lay sprawled across his mattress, sheets tangled around him, hair sticking up wildly in all directions. 

Remus let out a long breath. His bones felt waterlogged. His skin, though dry now, still held the memory of his days in the lake – cool and deep and full of magic. 

He reached for a clean shirt from his drawer, fingers sluggish. Sirius peeled off his own damp cloak and changed beside him without a word, their movements slow and aching. Their shoulders brushed once or twice, and each time it sparked something quiet and grounding between them.

Just as Remus sat on the edge of his bed, tugging off his socks, James stirred.

“Mmf– Sirius?” he muttered, voice thick with sleep.

Sirius froze mid-step. “Yeah?”

James cracked open one eye blearily, turning his head toward Remus. “Oh! Remus,  you’re here.”

Remus startled. “Er– yeah. I’m back.”

James pushed himself up slightly, squinting at them blearily without his glasses. “Pete and I went to the cave last night for the moon. But Sirius wasn’t there and you were gone, so… we didn’t know what to do, so we came back. Hope that’s alright.”

Remus nodded quickly, hoping his voice wouldn’t betray anything. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

James hummed, already flopping back onto his pillow. “Good. Was worried for a bit.”

Within seconds, he was snoring again.

Sirius let out a long breath through his nose and gave Remus a sidelong look.

They both stood there a moment longer, unmoving. Like the space between their beds had suddenly stretched miles wide.

Remus bit the inside of his cheek. “We should probably sleep in our own beds.”

Sirius’ head jerked slightly. “What?”

“Just– James and Pete will be up soon, and,” Remus said, voice low, “it might raise questions. I don’t… I don’t want to have to explain things yet.”

Sirius blinked at him, eyes a little too wide and raw.

“Oh,” he said. Then, “Right. Yeah.”

Remus hated the way the space between them suddenly felt colder, but it was true. They weren’t ready for the conversation with James and Peter, the one that would open every secret they were still keeping between themselves. Even if he knew that this was the one time that Sirius likely desperately needed to hold onto someone. 

Sirius gave a single reluctant nod. “Okay.”

He stepped back toward his bed but paused in the gap between them. His hand brushed Remus’ as he passed, fingers barely grazing knuckles.

One last look, lingering, full of things they couldn’t say with James and Peter only feet away in the dark.

Then Sirius turned away and slipped into his bed, drawing the curtains shut behind him with a soft swoosh.

Remus sat down slowly on his own mattress.The silence felt different now. 

He lay back, pulling the blanket up over himself, but it was too quiet. Too empty. His fingers curled into the sheet instinctively, like he might reach across the space and find Sirius there.

But there was only stillness. 

Despite his thoughts straying to the boy lying just feet away, the second his eyes slipped shut, his mind gave up to exhaustion, and sleep took him instantly.

When Remus stirred, the light was wrong.

For a fleeting, disorienting moment, his body tensed, expecting the familiar chill of water pressing against his skin, the tug of the lake’s current around his limbs. He could almost feel the weight of the vine wrapped around the base of his tail, the pressure of magic tethering him to the lakebed.

But there was no water. There was no vine.

There was… cotton.

Warm, dry cotton sheets beneath his fingers, the faint scent of soap and parchment and dust in the air. And when he blinked his eyes open, he was staring not into murky green depths, but up at the dark red canopy of his four-poster bed, sunlight bleeding in through the cracks.

It took him a moment to believe it.

Another moment to remember.

The lake. The ritual. Sirius’ unconscious body in his arms. The walk back to the castle in the morning. And the quiet ache of parting when he and Sirius had slipped into separate beds.

He was home.

Really, truly home.

Remus sat up slowly, blinking at the brightness that filtered through the heavy curtains. He pushed them open just enough to peer out, and saw that every bed in the room was empty, including Sirius’.

He stretched, wincing at the stiffness in his limbs, then swung his legs over the side of the bed. His wand – his wand – was resting on his bedside table. He picked it up slowly, curling his fingers around the handle like greeting an old friend.

It pulsed once, warm and ready.

He didn’t realize how much tension he’d been carrying until that moment, when it finally bled out of him all at once.

He ran a bath and sank into the scalding water with a sign so long it might’ve come from his soul. It was the first time in what felt like days he’d been truly, really warm. No lake chill, no cave air. Just steam and soap and silence.

He stayed there until the water cooled, until his skin wrinkled and his mind finally stopped racing. 

When he emerged, skin rubbed raw and hair damp against his neck, he felt almost human again.

He slipped down into the common room, expecting maybe to find Peter hunched over a chess board or James half-asleep by the fire. But the room was empty. Remus stood there a moment, hand resting lightly on the back of an armchair, and let the stillness sink in. 

Just a quiet Sunday, and a life he hadn’t expected to return to.

He left through the portrait hole and made his way through the halls, wand tucked into his pocket. A few students passed him in the corridors – Ravenclaws heading toward the library to prepare for the week ahead, a pair of Hufflepuffs bickering over a deck of Exploding Snap. No one gave him a second glance.

Remus wandered the halls without much direction, hands tucked into his robe pockets, hair still damp from his bath. He passed the Great Hall, half full of chatter and late lunch plates, but none of his friends were there.

The library was quiet too, save for the rustling of parchment and the occasional cough. No James hunched over a half-finished essay. No Peter twirling his quill idly. No Sirius, sprawled in a chair, pretending to read.

He felt oddly like a ghost, walking through familiar corridors. Eventually, drawn by the flicker of red and gold in the sky from out the window, Rems found himself on the path toward the Quidditch pitch.

Sure enough, Gryffindor practice was in full swing.

James was in the air, soaring in wide loops over the field, barking instructions down to the rest of the team. His broom dipped and climbed with effortless precision, and behind him Marlene was in hot pursuit, laughter trailing in her wake as she shot a bludger toward one of the Beaters.

Down in the stand, Peter and Sirius sat side by side, bundled against the March breeze. Lily and Mary were there too, chatting with them between cheers.

Peter kept glancing toward the path, eyes scanning the edges of the pitch, his leg jiggling with barely-contained energy.

Remus took a breath and made his way over. He hadn’t even stopped onto the first wooden row before Peter spotted him.

“There he is!” Peter leapt to his feet. “Oi, Moony!”

Four heads turned at once.

Remus gave a sheepish smile and raised a hand. “Afternoon.”

“You’re alive,” Mary said dramatically as he reached them. “Was starting to think you’d disappeared.”

Remus chuckled, brushing off just how close to the truth that was. “I hadn’t slept much the last few days. Think the exhaustion finally caught up to me.”

Lily’s eyes scanned his face. “You look a bit more human.”

Remus caught the meaning in her tone. Their eyes held for a moment, and then she smiled gently.

Sirius, seated beside her, hadn’t spoken yet, but his gaze hadn’t left Remus since he’d walked up. His hair caught the sun, wind tugging at it as his foot bounced idly against the wooden beams. When their eyes met, something unspoken passed between them, quiet and grounding.

Peter gave Remus a quick, firm pat on the shoulder. “Glad you’re okay, mate.”

“Thanks, Pete.”

As if summoned, Ivy appeared a few moments later, trotting up the stands with windblown curls and a bright grin and her yellow and black scarf wrapped around her neck. She barely spared the others a glance before tugging Peter away with a conspiratorial whisper. He flushed, muttered something about needing to go “walk off lunch,” and followed her without looking back. 

Remus watched them go, amused. “He’s smitten.”

“Oh, completely,” Lily agreed.

A loud laugh broke the moment. Mary was shielding her eyes as she waved toward the far end of the pitch. A Ravenclaw boy was waving enthusiastically back. A fifth-year named Davey something.

“Well,” Mary said, smoothing her hair back. “I’m going to chat with him.”

Sirius arched a brow. “What, not waiting around for me anymore?”

Mary rolled her eyes. “You’re annoying. And you made me wait too long. You should’ve said yes when I asked you to Hogsmeade in January."

“No one likes desperation, Macdonald,” Sirius teased with a mock-wounded look. “It’s tragic, really.”

“Tell that to your reflection, Black,” she shot back breezily. “Some of us have better options now.”

She tossed him a wink and sauntered off, all sunshine and self-assurance. Remus laughed under his breath.

Sirius scoffed theatrically. “I’m wounded.”

“You’ll live,” Lily said, dry as ever.

Which left the three of them, Lily and Sirius and Remus, sitting quietly now, the wind whistling lightly around them, James shooting around in the background as he launched into another drill. The energy shifted slightly, as if they’d all felt the space Mary and Peter had left behind.

Lily sat forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees. “Alright,” she said quietly. “Tell me what happened.”

Remus looked over at her. Her expression was calm and careful, but her eyes were sharp and worried.

He hesitated. “I’m sure you can already guess most of it.”

“I want to hear it from you.”

Remus exhaled slowly. “There was another student that got hurt a few days before the full moon. Nearly got hypothermia from the freezing water in the castle. And I could just… feel it. The lake wanted more, and I knew it needed something bigger. I didn’t want to involve anyone else. Not again.”

“So you went to the lake,” she said. Her voice sounded very controlled. “Without telling anyone.”

“It just… made sense. Sirius and I had fought. I knew I could get down there without people noticing. And I was ready to give myself to it if it meant no one else would get hurt. I went down knowing that I wouldn’t be coming back.”

Sirius’ breath caught beside him, so faint he almost missed it.

Remus continued, eyes fixed on the pitch. “The Vodyanoy kept me down there, waiting until the full moon when the sacrifice would be accepted. So I stayed at the bottom of the lake for days, tethered to the lake bed, unable to leave.”

He fell quiet, the memory of it flickering at the edge of his thoughts.

“And then,” he continued, his voice tighter now. “Saturday evening, two of them came back, but they had Sirius.”

Lily looked between them quickly, her brow furrowing. 

“I told you what I had figured out, and we both knew it would work, and it did,” Sirius explained, looking at Lily. 

Remus ran a hand through his curls. “They brought him down and told me… told me the choice had been made. They were going to accept his offer.”

“They waited until the moon rose,” Sirius continued now. “They took me to the surface, then. And… I didn’t know what was happening at first. They were chanting and I remember it echoing like it was inside my head. They created some kind of circle around me. And then… I remember feeling really cold.” Remus flinched involuntarily. “It wasn’t awful. Just a feeling of pressure and this sense of… shifting. And then, nothing.”

He looked down at his hands, turning one palm upward like he expected to find something new etched into it.

“I woke up in the cave,” Sirius finished. “Next to Remus, who was still in the pool, of course. I felt a bit off, but fine.”

The silence that followed was thick. Lily’s eyes were glassy now, though she blinked the tears away before they could fall.

Her voice, when it came, was quiet. “Sirius.. are you–?”

Sirius froze. 

His eyes flicked to her, then to Remus, like maybe he could offer some explanation, like he could take over from here. But this wasn’t Remus’ secret to tell anymore. This was about Sirius. The wind ruffled his hair, but he didn’t move otherwise.

Remus didn’t respond for him. He just waited, watching the side of Sirius’ face, letting him have the time he needed.

After a long pause, Sirius gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

Lily inhaled sharply.

But Sirius still didn’t speak, not right away. He looked down at his hands again, then he flexed his fingers slowly, like checking that they were still his.

“I haven’t transformed,” he said at last. “Not yet. I haven’t seen it.”

Lily didn’t speak, just listened. 

“But I can feel it,” he continued. “Something’s different. Like it’s there, just waiting."

Remus’ heart ached at the sound of it. The uncertainty. The admission that something inside Sirius had shifted in ways that he didn’t understand yet, but in ways that Remus was only too familiar with.

Lily was watching him now, not with pity or fear, but with that piercing protectiveness she always carried like a blade.

“And you know that you will?” she asked. “Transform, I mean?”

Sirius nodded again. “Eventually, I’ll have to.”

Remus reached out, brushing his knuckles against Sirius’. Sirius’ hand immediately flipped over, clutching onto his fingers, intertwining them together.

Lily let out a slow breath. “Alright,” she said, softer now. “Then we’ll handle it. One thing at a time.” 

After a pause, she asked, “Have you told Peter and James?”

Yeah, there was still that.

Chapter Text

Turning seventeen was supposed to feel like something. Remus had expected it to at least feel significant, one of those rare days when the world tilted just slightly on its axis in acknowledgment that he, Remus Lupin, was of age. A quietly momentous shift. Maybe not fireworks or floating cupcakes, but… something.

But it was a Wednesday and only days after everything that happened in the lake. And aside from a few warm birthday wishes at breakfast and Lily slipping him an extra chocolate frog with a note reminding him to not disappear into the lake this year, the day had mostly gone on as usual.

He didn’t mind the quiet. He liked it, actually. Especially after everything that his sixth year had brought him so far. No fuss or shenanigans, just familiar paths in the castle corridors, the scent of old parchment, and the crisp edge of early spring in the air.

He’d been sleeping again. The kind of deep, dreamless sleep he hadn’t known since before Christmas. The lake no longer called to him. The Vodyanoy had gone silent, and the visions of Lira and her sparkling green eyes had vanished.

For the first time in months, he felt like himself again. 

But the relief was fleeting, quickly replaced by guilt every time he looked at Sirius.

Because while Remus had been reclaiming his peace, Sirius had been unraveling. Avoiding water like it might burn him, flinching at the faucet. And worst of all, trying to hide it with his usual smirks and half-hearted charm, even as something deep beneath his skin fought to break free. 

Sirius hadn’t said much all day. He hadn’t said nothing. He’d ruffled Remus’ hair at breakfast, passed him a sweet under the table in Transfiguration, and mouthed a “Happy Birthday, Moony,” during Rivera’s lecture. But it was subdued, like he was keeping everything just under the surface. 

Remus had noticed it all week: the way Sirius flinched when someone splashed a goblet too hard at dinner, the moments where Sirius would pause mid-stride in the corridor, eyes squeezed shut, hand braced against the wall like the world had gone sideways. The faint tremble in his fingers when he thought no one was looking. 

They were walking out of Defense when it happened again.

Remus noticed the way Sirius’ hand jerked at his side, his jaw tightening. He stopped just short of the doorway and leaned against the stone, eyes fluttering shut. 

Remus caught his elbow and pulled them into an alcove around the corner.

“I’m fine,” Sirius muttered. “Just dizzy. I didn’t eat enough.”

“Right,” Remus said, watching him carefully.

Sirius opened his eyes again and offered a quick, bright smile, the kind he used when he was trying very hard to lie.

Then, before Remus could say another word, Sirius pressed up onto his toes and kissed Remus.

It was soft, fleeting, more tenderness than heat, but it lingered longer than a hallway kiss should have. When he pulled back, Sirius gave him that crooked smile again, thumb brushing lightly along his jaw.

“Happy birthday,” he said in a low, sincere voice.

Remus didn’t smile. He just stared at him, quiet and unwavering, knowing that Sirius was trying to distract him away from the very obvious.

“What?” Sirius asked.

Remus kept his hand on Sirius’ arm, grounding him. “You’ve been pushing it back for days, but your body’s already changing. You can’t fight it forever, you know.”

Sirius shook his head. “I just– what if it happened wrong? What if I’m not like you? I’m not ready–”

“You are ready,” Remus said, gentle and firm. “You just don’t feel ready. That’s not the same.”

Sirius’ eyes flicked away, toward the arched windows at the end of the hall. Pale sunlight glimmered off the glass. Somewhere beyond, the lake rippled. They stood there in the private corner of the stone and light, holding something heavier than anyone else in the castle could even guess. Remus squeezed Sirius’ hand. “Come on. Let’s do it together. You have to listen to me. It’s my birthday.”

After a long pause, Sirius nodded.

They didn’t speak much as they made their way down through the castle and out across the grounds, taking the familiar path that led to the cave. The sun was already sinking low behind the mountains, bleeding gold and lavender into the still surface of the lake in the distance. 

Sirius walked close, his shoulder brushing Remus every few steps. His jaw was tight, holding something in. Fear, probably. Remus could feel it radiating off of him, even if he didn’t say a word.

When they reached the willow, Sirius hesitated for only a second before following. Remus glanced  back once, caught the flicker of doubt in Sirius’ eyes, and reached for his hand.

Sirius didn’t pull away.

The air in the cave was cool with the pool at the center shimmering faintly in the lantern lights. 

Remus let go of Sirius’ hand only to start unbuttoning his shirt.

Sirius blinked a few times. “You’re just–?”

Remus glanced at him and smiled gently. “I’ll get in first.”

Before Sirius could respond, Remus dropped the rest of his clothes and folded them onto the dry ledge, then stepped into the water. As soon as he was submerged, the transformation took hold like a gentle sigh through his body.

His legs shimmered into one sleek shape, bronze scales catching the low light. He moved through the water like he belonged to it, which, in a way, he did. He twisted once beneath the surface before rising and turning to face Sirius.

He reached out a hand.

Sirius hadn’t moved. He stood there barefoot, eyes wide, breathing shallow as he looked between the water and Remus.

“Will it hurt?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Remus shook his head. “No. Not like the full moons. It shouldn’t hurt at all. Might be a bit uncomfortable since your body is changing for the first time, but no pain.”

Sirius’ shoulders relaxed by a fraction. He nodded, then slowly, deliberately, pulled off his school jumper. Then his shirt. His belt. His trousers. Every motion was a little hesitant, like he half-expected the transformation to start the second his skin was bare.

When he was down to nothing, he looked at Remus once more.

Remus’ stretched out his hand once again, still waiting. 

Sirius took a breath and dove in.

It wasn’t graceful. His splash echoed through the cave, water sloshing against the stone. Remus swam to him instantly, catching Sirius beneath the surface before he could fully right himself and swam them up so their heads were above the water.

And then Sirius gasped, not in pain, but in shock.

Remus’ hands stayed on him, steady and grounding, as Sirius’ body began to change.

It started at his feet. Silver-gray scales unfurling like blooming petals, curling up along his ankles, his calves. His legs trembled, then pressed together, the skin melting and reshaping in slow, seamless magic.

It wasn’t fast. Not like Remus’. It moved in slow waves, as though Sirius’ body was unsure whether to give in. Remus felt every twitch, every shiver, his hands never leaving Sirius’ middle.

Finally, the shift reached Sirius’ hips, and the tail took form completely, long and powerful and dark as charcoal, flecked with sparkling silver.

Sirius was panting, head tipped back against Remus’ shoulder, eyes closed. 

“You alright?” Remus asked softly into his ear.

Sirius nodded. “Yeah. It’s just…strange.”

Remus smiled. “I know.”

And he did. He remembered that first moment of weightlessness from when he was just a boy. The unfamiliar balance of having one long tail where he had once had two legs.

He shifted closer, curling around Sirius and holding them both in the stillness of the water. They floated there in silence, bodies suspended in the water. 

Remus kept his arms around Sirius’ waist. Sirius’ breathing had slowed, his chest rising and falling with measured care, but Remus could feel the tension still curled at the edges of him, like he hadn’t quite relaxed into his new shape.

Below them, Sirius’ tail moved in uncertain waves. He flicked the fins once, then again, slower, watching the way the water shifted around him. The dark silver scales shimmered with each motion, trailing starlight ripples across the pool. His tail twitched again, then swayed side to side with little grace.

Remus felt his breath catch softly.

“Beautiful,” he murmured.

The word slipped out before he could think to stop it, barely more than a breath against the curve of Sirius’ shoulder.

Sirius stilled. He looked down at himself, twisting ever so slightly in Remus’ arms. “It’s weird,” he said after a long pause.

“I know,” Remus replied.

“I feel…heavy and light at the same time,” Sirius said. “Like I’m not in my body, but also more in it than ever.”

Remus nodded, cheek brushing Sirius’ hair.

Sirius tilted his head back, letting it rest against Remus’ shoulder again. “I don’t hate it,” he said quietly. “I was worried that I would. That I wouldn’t look like you.” 

“You were scared,” Remus said gently.

“I still am.”

“I know.”

They watched their tails move together, Sirius testing every muscle for the first time, moving his tail slowly in experimental sways. It was leaner than Remus’ tail, all sharp curves and glinting dark silver scales. The fins at the end curled, catching the light as they fluttered.

Sirius turned in Remus’ hold so they were face to face now, their legs gone and replaced with that long sweep of magic beneath them, brushing and tangling in the quiet current.

“How long did it take you to feel normal?” Sirius asked.

Remus hesitated. “I don’t know if I ever did. Not all the way, but I eventually stopped being afraid of it.”

Sirius nodded, absorbing that.

He glanced down at his tail again, letting it sway more. Still awkward and strange, but not quite as alien. 

“I don’t feel like me,” he admitted softly.

Remus reached up, brushing his hair back from his face. “You will. You’re still you, Pads. Just… you know, with some scales and gills.”

Then Remus shifted slightly, drawing back just enough to meet Sirius’ eyes.

“Want to try swimming?” he asked softly.

Sirius stared at him wide-eyed. “Out in the lake?”

Remus nodded, the corner of his mouth tilting up just slightly.

For a second, Sirius said nothing. Then, slowly, he smiled. Not his usual cocky smirk that he wore like armor, but something much softer.

But just as quickly, the smile faltered. 

“I’m not sure how to use this thing,” he admitted, glancing down at his tail. “It feels… enormous.”

Remus let out a quiet laugh. “It is enormous, but you just have to get the hang of it.”

Sirius gave him a skeptical look.

“It’s not hard,” Remus promised. “A few kicks, a few glides. You’ll find your rhythm. I’ll teach you.”

He offered his hand again, palm open in the water between them.

Sirius hesitated only a moment before taking it. Remus laced their fingers together, the water curling around them.

“Come on,” Remus said. 

He gave a gentle pull and they moved together, slowly at first, then with more purpose, toward the narrow passage where the cave met the lake proper. The stone walls fell away behind them, replaced by open water, filtered light, and the vast, rippling world that was waiting just beyond. 

Sirius gripped Remus’ hand tightly at first, tail twitching awkwardly behind him. But Remus led them forward with ease, gliding like he was born to the current.

Sirius followed and, together, they swam out of the cave and into the open lake. 

The water was brighter as they moved out of the cave’s shadow, the murky blues shifting into dappled golds and silvers as the fading light from the surface trickled down in slow, waving ribbons. 

Sirius let go of Remus’ hand just long enough to spin slowly in the current, his long dark tail flicking in a wide, clumsy arc. He floated backward for a moment, limbs splayed out, hair drifting like ink.

Then he laughed. It sounded different underwater, but still unmistakably him.

He turned, eyes wide with surprise. “It feels weird without the charm.”

His voice rang through the water like a melody. Soft and resonant, like chimes heard through a dream. There was something twinkling in it, something uniquely Sirius , wild and bright, but threaded now with a lilting cadence that marked every merfolk’s speech.

Remus’ smile bloomed without thinking. “I like your voice,” he said, the words shaped easily in the water. “It suits you.”

Sirius flushed, cheeks tinged pink even beneath the lake’s green-tinted glow. “It’s so… floaty,” he said, like the word itself was strange in his mouth.

“It’s magic,” Remus replied simply. 

They swam slowly, side by side, with no destination in mind.  No haunting visions. No threats of sacrifice or ritual. Just water and light and the soft rhythm of their tails brushing now and then.

For once, there was nothing the lake wanted from Remus.

Sirius flipped suddenly, twisting upside down and kicking upward until he was nearly vertical in the water. His fins flared wide with the motion, accidentally catching on some current in the water.

“Alright,” he said, a little breathless, “this is actually brilliant.”

Remus laughed and joined him, spiraling once in a slow loop before leveling out again. 

Sirius turned to him, floating just inches away. “How long can we stay like this?”

“Technically? As long as we want. Days. Weeks, maybe.”

Sirius considered that, then turned onto his back, tail drifting lazily beneath him. “So we can just…come out here whenever we want? When we want to get away?”

“Mhm,” Remus hummed. “But it wasn’t always this peaceful, even before everything that’s happened this year.”

Sirius glanced at him with soft eyes. “Is it now?”

Remus nodded. “Right now, yeah.”

They kept swimming, or at least Remus kept swimming.

Sirius, meanwhile, attempted another wide arc and spun himself off-course, flailing a bit as his tail slapped too hard in the water. He sputtered as much as one could sputter underwater, twisting upright with a frustrated scowl.

“Bloody– how do you even steer this thing?”

Remus was already swimming toward him, smiling but trying not to laugh. “You’re thinking too much with your legs. You don’t have legs anymore”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Sirius muttered, his tail twitching beneath him in short, uneven jerks. He hovered awkwardly, halfway upright, arms slightly out like he might fall forward despite the fact that gravity didn’t have a hold on him in the lake.

“Here,” Remus said gently, drifting closer. “Let me show you.”

He reached out, slow and deliberate, until his hands found Sirius’ waist where the smooth skin of his waist gave way to his iridescent grey scales. The transition point was stunning, the skin soft and warm beneath his palms.

Sirius went still.

Remus didn’t speak. He let his hands stay there firmly, thumbs brushing once, accidentally maybe, along the edge of where skin became something more.

“Feel that?” he asked, voice low and rippling through the water. “You’ve got to move from here. The tail follows.”

Sirius swallowed. Remus’ hands shifted slightly, more reflex than intention, fingers twitching against Sirius’ tail. 

“I…” Sirius trailed off. His eyes met Remus’, wide and unsure, but dark with something that made Remus’ stomach flip.

“You’re doing fine,” Remus said quietly, not letting go.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The water rocked gently around them. Remus’ hands still rested on Sirius’ hips, anchoring them close together, bodies swaying with the soft movement of the lake.

Sirius' tail twitched once more, brushing lightly against Remus’.

Remus’ breath caught just a bit.

Then Sirius smiled and his voice came out soft and curved with the new lilt. “You’re enjoying this.”

“What, helping you not drown?”

“I’m not drowning,” Sirius said. “I’m flailing. Very attractively, I might add.”

Remus continued to guide him in gentle shifts, turning him slightly, encouraging him to tilt his body and to let the water move with him instead of against him.

“Like this,” Remus murmured, sliding one hand further down, following the subtle ridges of muscle beneath the smooth, cool scales. “Keep your core relaxed and let your tail do the work.”

“Easy for you to say,” Sirius muttered, but his voice came out low, breathy, and laced with something else entirely.

Remus swallowed. His fingertips traced along the curve of Sirius’ lower back, the further down the length of his tail, aiding in gentle movements that now came as second nature to Remus. 

He’d touched Sirius a hundred different ways, but never like this. He could feel the way Sirius’ body tensed under his touch in anticipation.

Remus felt it, too. Every motion, every adjustment felt suddenly slow and deliberate. He slid a hand along the side of Sirius’ tail, fingers skimming a seam of lighter silver scales that ran down the length of it. Sirius let out a soft, uneven breath and caught Remus’ wrist lightly.

“This,” Sirius said, voice half-laugh and half-exhale, “was not exactly how I pictured your birthday going.” Remus looked at his face, and found Sirius smiling at him, a bit flushed. “Feels a bit unfair, doesn’t it? That I’m getting all the attention.” 

Remus slowly drifted a bit closer, his hands now resting again against the small of his back, and he pulled Sirius closer before bringing their lips together.

Their mouths fit like they’d done this a hundred times, but this was different. Underwater, weightless, breathless. Remus tilted his head just enough to mold against Sirius’ lips, pressing closer, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of Sirius’ neck.

The other hand stayed curled around his waist, thumb resting right where soft skin became shining scales.

Sirius shivered in his arms, tail brushing against Remus’ in a sweeping arc. He kissed back with a kind of stunned desperation, like this was the first thing all day that made sense.

“I’m not complaining.” Remus voice was low and came out in a husky rumble. 

Sirius’ breath was still uneven when they pulled apart, his hand resting loosely on Remus’ shoulder, eyes half-lidded and warm. He tilted his head, that teasing glint returning just behind the heat in his gaze.

“I want to make it up to you,” he said, voice low and soft and dangerous in that way only Sirius could manage, especially when laced with the lilt of his new underwater voice.

Remus’ breath hitched. His hands stayed where they were, one on Sirius’ neck, the other still wrapped around his waist. He didn’t move away.

His eyes darkened, but after a heartbeat, he huffed out a laugh and shook his head. “Later.”

Sirius stared at him. “Later?”

Remus grinned. “Right now, I’m a bit busy helping a poor flailing merman learn how to swim.”

Sirius gave an exaggerated groan and let his head fall dramatically back in the water. “You’re cruel.”

“I’m instructional,” Remus corrected, nudging him with his tail. “Now come on. You’ve got the coordination of a drunk seal.”

“Whatever you say, Professor Lupin,” Sirius replied.

Remus rolled his eyes, but he was laughing as he spun away, flicking his tail in a clean arc and darting through the water like he’d been born in it. 

Sirius followed, slow but trying, a determined scowl on his face as he kicked too hard and nearly spiraled. He caught himself and shouted something indignant.

Remus turned to glance at him over his shoulder, smile wide, and suddenly Sirius was chasing him.

He kicked faster, darting around a pillar of rock jutting up from the lakebed, Sirius calling after him with a breathless, “Oi! Come back here, you smug bastard!” that somehow still sounded like music in the water.

Their laughter echoed strangely underwater, soft and shimmering, bouncing off of the rocks and winding through the reeds. They darted past schools of fish, twining through swaying strands of kelp and hollow tree branches long sunken in silt.

At one point, Sirius caught Remus’ tail, and tugged. Remus yelped but easily twisted free, flicking his fins into Sirius’ face as he surged forward with a triumphant laugh.

They swam until they were breathless. Until the cold of the lake barely registered and their limbs ached from movement. And somewhere between the game and the laughter and the quiet thrill of just being, Remus realized that the lake felt different now. It was still cold and vast and steeped in ancient magic, but there was a stillness to it. There was peace in the water that had been gone for months. 

He wasn’t sure if it was Sirius beside him, or the new balance of magic reshaped by their choices, but for the first time in what felt like forever, Remus wasn’t afraid of the lake. 

Eventually, the play faded into something slower. Their movements eased, laughter softened, and their swimming quieted into long, drifting glides through the water. 

Remus nudged Sirius’ hand, and together they turned and swam toward the cave. The entrance loomed like a dark mouth in the rock.

They surfaced in the still pool inside the cave, water trailing in slow rivulets down their shoulders. The air was cooler here, and their breaths echoed off the stone walls.

Sirius reached for the edge of the stone and hoisted himself up with a grunt, tail flopping awkwardly onto the rock. He collapsed backward, arms spread wide, hair dripping everywhere.

Remus joined him a minute later, laying on the stone beside him. His scales caught the low light in hues of bronze as he stretched out, the fins of their tail still submerged, tangling gently in the water.

They lay in silence for a while, breathing in sync.

Sirius’ arm brushed against Remus’ damp skin. He tilted his head to the side, eyes half-lidded, hair plastered to his forehead.

“Well,” Sirius said, voice low and almost drowsy. “I think I’m officially a fish.”

Remus turned his head, smiling. “You’re getting the hang of it.”

“I still flail around everywhere.”

“Your determination is commendable, though."

Sirius huffed a tired laugh. “That’s not a real compliment.”

“It’s the best you’re going to get until you stop swimming in circles.”

Their fingers brushed on the stone between them. Neither moved away.

The cave was quiet, the lake beyond calm. No distant humming. No dark figures lurking beneath the surface, beckoning. Just the soft drip of water and the sound of Sirius’ laugh still echoing in Remus’ chest.

“Thank you,” Sirius said after a moment, barely more than a whisper. 

Remus turned his head. “For what?”

“For not letting me wait too long.”

Remus reached over and took his hand properly this time, fingers threading together on the stone.

“You brought me back,” he said quietly. “I’m just returning the favor.”

Sirius shifted. With a soft grunt and a surprising amount of upper body strength, he pushed himself upright, tail dragging behind him awkwardly as his fins still swayed next to Remus’ in the water, and flopped down on top of him in a loose half-draped sprawl.

Remus let out a startled laugh, hands catching automatically at his waist to steady him.

“God, you’re heavy,” he muttered, grinning up at him.

Sirius just grinned and nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

Remus’ hands slid lower, palms resting right where scale met skin in a curve that had no human equivalent. He pulled him a bit closer, and Sirius made a sound that was part sigh, part laugh. He ducked down and pressed a kiss against Remus’ cheek. Then another at his jaw. Then another just beneath his ear.

“You’re ridiculous,” Remus muttered, voice thinning under the press of lips against sensitive skin.

“Mm,” Sirius hummed in response, brushing his mouth over the hollow of Remus’ throat before tilting up and kissing him, open and slow. 

The kiss started playful. Soft nudges of lips, breathless grins, but it deepened quickly, something needier threading between them. Sirius shifted again, pressing closer, their chests flush and his wet hair sticking to Remus’ temple.

Remus didn’t hesitate. He rolled them, sweeping them both back across the stone in one fluid motion, their tails dragging behind until they slid free of the water entirely. The moment Remus’ scales cleared the pool, the magic responded. His transformation unraveled instantly and painlessly, legs re-forming beneath him with practiced ease.

Sirius’ body, though, didn’t immediately follow.

He stayed as he was, tail still glinting faintly in the cave’s low light, his breath catching for a moment as his skin seemed to consider changing, but didn’t. It held, as if uncertain. 

But Sirius didn’t care. He surged forward, catching Remus’ mouth again in a kiss that silenced any questions. His tail coiled loosely around Remus’ legs, anchoring him without thought, and Remus gasped into the kiss at the sensation.

Their hands moved now without teasing. One sliding up a bare back, the other curling into wet hair. Sirius kissed like he was still learning what it meant to be kissed again, wanted again like this in a body he hadn’t yet grown used to.

And Remus gave him everything. 

Sirius’ kisses moved slower now, deeper. His hands roaming Remus’ ribs, his throat, down to his hips and back again like he was trying to memorize him.

Remus’ fingers curled just under the edge of Sirius’ jaw, tilting his face up for another kiss, slow, open-mouthed, unhurried. Their breaths mingled in the quiet, and for a long moment, there was nothing but skin and warmth and the taste of lakewater on both of their lips. 

Sirius moved like he’d forgotten his body entirely, like he had finally surrendered to this form. His hands slid down Remus’ chest, over the ridges of his stomach, thumbs brushing reverently along hipbones. Remus arched faintly under him, lips parting with a quiet sound that sparked heat between them. 

And then– Sirius froze.

His fingers flexed suddenly against Remus’ side, his brow furrowed.

“What–” Remus started, but Sirius cut him off with a sharp inhale. Remus sat up a little, one hand braced behind him, the other still holding Sirius. “Is it–?”

“Yeah,” Sirius winced.

Remus scrambled up to support him, guiding him gently off his lap and onto the stone beside him. Sirius groaned and sat upright, tail twitching once, twice, then spasming slightly as the magic rippled through him. His scales shimmered brighter, just for a moment, then dulled. The fins began to recede, the silver blending back into skin. His tail spasmed again, then began to split, shifting and twisting as it reshaped, reforming into legs with long, arching stretches of muscle. 

Sirius leaned over into Remus, his whole body trembling slightly like he’d just run up the steps to the Astronomy Tower twice.

“It’s not bad,” he said, jaw tight. “Just weird. Feels like I’m growing bones in the wrong direction.”

Remus kept one hand steady on his back, the other resting lightly over Sirius’ newly reformed thigh.

“You’re alright,” he said softly. “It’ll be over soon.”

Sirius nodded, eyes shut, hair plastered to his face.

The last of the change settled, his legs still damp and shaky, but solid again. Human again. His breath slowly evened out, and the silence that followed was thick with something delicate. The transformation had left its mark in Sirius' exhausted limbs.

Sirius sat slouched slightly forward, eyes downcast, hair dripping over his face. He flexed his legs and toes like he was checking to see if they belonged to him.

Remus shifted beside him, brushing a hand up and down his spine, anchoring them both.

Sirius turned to him. There was no quip or sarcastic joke. Just his gaze, open and a little raw around the edges.

“I didn’t know it would feel like that,” he said softly.

“I know.”

“It didn’t hurt, but…” he trailed off, shaking his head slightly. “Felt like my whole body was being rebuilt.”

Remus reached for him, his hand slipping around the back of Sirius’ neck, thumb brushing the damp hair at his nape. “You were rebuilt.”

Sirius’ breath hitched, almost imperceptibly.

He leaned in slowly until their foreheads touched. The gesture was soft and grounding, and Remus closed his eyes and breathed him in.

And then, after a long moment, Sirius tilted his head, just enough to brush his lips against Remus’ again. It was barely a kiss, but Remus answered.

He pressed forward, deepening the kiss slowly. One hand slid to Sirius’ waist, fingers resting slightly where scales had been only minutes before. The other cupped his jaw, guiding him.

Sirius let out a quiet breath against his lips and moved with him, each kiss a little more certain, a little more real. 

Sirius leaned up first, his hand sliding along Remus’ chest, pushing him down to lay on his back. Remus let himself go, sinking back against the cool stone, breath caught somewhere between surprise and anticipation. 

Sirius hovered over him, eyes soft but intent, damp hair curing along his jaw. He looked at Remus like he’d never seen anything more sacred. 

“Happy birthday, Remus,” he murmured, voice low and reverent.

Remus smiled and opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat at Sirius began to kiss his way down his chest, slow and deliberate.

The touch of his lips against skin was grounding and electric all at once.

Remus’ breath hitched as Sirius moved lower, kisses trailing down his stomach, until his body arched without thought, responding and reaching for Sirius.

Sirius didn’t rush and he didn’t speak again. 

And when he slipped between Remus’ legs, there was no teasing. 

Remus let his head fall back with a moan, one hand sliding into Sirius’ hair, the other curling against the stone floor. His mouth parted, breath shaky. 

Afterward, they lay side by side, legs tangled, chests rising and falling together in a rhythm that felt too perfect. The air was cooler now, but Remus’ body was still flushed and warm.

Sirius’ head rested against his shoulder, one arm draped across Remus' stomach, fingers drawing idle circles above his navel. 

Eventually, Sirius tilted his head up to look at Remus.

“Hi,” he murmured.

“Hi,” Remus echoed.

They lay like that for a bit longer, until Sirius rolled onto his back, wincing slightly as the cool stone met his skin. His legs stretched out, his skin a bit red still from his first transformation.

Remus propped himself up on one elbow. “How do you feel?”

Sirius stared at the ceiling for a long moment before answering.

“Tired. Different. Kind of like I’ve been turned inside out and then stitched back up.”

Remus nodded his understanding.

“But also,” Sirius added, “not bad. Just… not mine yet. The tail. Even swimming. It’s weird how it can simultaneously feel so uncomfortable and so incredibly natural.”

Remus nodded, watching him carefully.

“You looked beautiful,” he said after a pause. “In the water. Your silver scales.”

Sirius flushed slightly. “I liked the swimming.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Even when you almost took out a whole school of fish?”

“I said I liked it, not excelled at it,” Sirius replied. “It’s harder than it looks.”

“You were getting the hang of it by the end.”

“I was chasing you,” Sirius said, his voice dipping into something quieter. “I wasn’t really thinking about how. I just… wanted to follow you.”

“Exactly,” Remus replied. “You let your instincts guide you.”

Sirius rolled his eyes playfully. “Thanks, Professor Moony.”

They lay like that for a few more minutes before Remus began to stir, stretching out slowly, muscles pleasantly sore from the long swim. 

“We should get up,” he said softly.

Sirius groaned from where he was draped across Remus’ side. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Really sure?”

Remus huffed a laugh and turned his head to press a kiss to Sirius’ temple. “Come on. You can’t hide down here forever.”

Sirius made a noise of protest but sat up anyway, blinking sleepily. He rubbed a hand over his face, then glanced toward the water, like he half-expected it to pull him back under.

When he didn’t move right away, Remus sat up too and nudged him gently. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Sirius said. Then glanced around again, frowning. “What time is it?”

Remus gave him a look. “Why?”

Sirius’ face was too blank and far too innocent.

“Oh…nothing,” he said airily, already reaching for his shirt. “Just, you know. There may or may not be something waiting for you back at the dorm.”

Remus narrowed his eyes. “Sirius…”

Sirius’ grin returned slowly. “Let’s just say, James and Peter and Lily may or may not have decided that you shouldn’t be allowed to spend your birthday hiding underwater with your devastatingly handsome boyfriend. Not that they know that last bit, but…”

Remus groaned softly. “You didn’t…”

“It’s not a big party,” Sirius promised, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “No full Gryffindor chaos. Just.. the dorm room, some decorations, the marauders, Lily, Mary and Marlene.”

Remus blinked. “...You lot threw me a birthday party in our dorm room?”

Sirius gave a small shrug. “Just the kind you’d want, something small with our friends.”

Remus’ chest tightened, suddenly feeling very full.

“Come on then,” Sirius said, already pulling on his boots. “Wouldn’t want to miss Lily's chocolate frog cake."

Remus was already smiling before he could stop himself.

“Oh, and pretend to be surprised,” Sirius added. “I wasn’t supposed to say anything.” Remus chuckled and threw an arm around Sirius’ shoulders as they made their way back to the castle in the early evening light. 

Chapter Text

The room smelled like chocolate and warm butterbeer, and someone, likely Marlene, had set a handful of floating candles on a lazy orbit near the ceiling, trailing faint gold sparks as Bowie crackled from the record player in the corner.

Remus sat cross-legged on his bed, a paper crown slightly askew on his head, courtesy of Mary, nursing his second bottle of butterbeer and feeling pleasantly buzzed in that soft, golden way. Not from the drink, but from all of this.

His birthday. His friends. The rare feeling that maybe, for now, everything was as it should be.

Across the room, James and Lily were locked in what might’ve started as a conversation about Quidditch but had evolved into a flirtation so obvious it bordered on theatrical. James leaned against his desk, gesturing with his bottle as he made some exaggerated point. Lily pretended not to be impressed, but her smile tugged at the corner of her mouth all the same.

On the rug near the record player, Mary and Marlene were sprawled out on their stomachs, whispering and giggling every time Lily laughed at one of James’ jokes. Occasionally one of them would toss a pumpkin pasty at the back of James’ head when he got too smug.

Peter sat alone in the armchair, arms folded and mood visibly wilted. He’d only grumbled that “Ivy and I are fine, just not talking right now,” before muttering something about her not understanding that he couldn’t just skip class to hang out with her at the greenhouses.

Remus didn’t push.

And Sirius. Sirius was sprawled on his own bed, bottle resting against his stomach, ankles crossed, and shirt slightly rumpled in a way that made him look like he belonged in a magazine. His laugh rang clear across the room as he told Mary and Marlene a story about how he’d once hexed a suit of armor into dancing like it was in a disco, spinning and striking finger-poses, until McGonagall nearly slipped on the marble floor from being scared half to death as she walked by.