Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Breathe Sirius. Breathe. . .

Be still. . .

I’m here. Can you see me? Sirius. . .

Walburga hadn’t let him eat that day. Not that he’d wanted to, even just thinking of eating made him squirm in discomfort. He’d tried to explain it to James, how when he thought of putting food in his mouth all he could think of was this damp squishy opening and it went down, down, down, into his roiling guts. James never thought of anything like that before. Sirius never told him anything like that again. It seemed like a hundred years would pass in his head, his thoughts raced so fast it was as if cities rose and fell like the tide, as if he were suspended in his own timeline. In reality, only an hour had passed. His half-lidded eyes searched the room for his broomstick, a false attempt at motivation.

Even Quidditch felt difficult these days, the rush he used to feel when launching into the air overshadowed by the dull ache that had settled over everything. Nothing felt like anything anymore. James hadn’t understood that either, Sirius couldn’t blame him, he had all the love in the world lavished upon him along with three hearty meals a day from mummy. Not that he was resentful, he wouldn’t wish his own situation on anyone, much less his best friend. The sound of Regulus moving about the house pissed him off to no end.

His stupid Slytherin brother, obsessed with his stupid Slytherin friends, obsessed with stupid fake dark magic. He thought it made him look intimidating, but to Sirius he was a silly child that had no idea about anything. His stomach groaned. He groaned back in response. Supposing he starved, would his parents even look for him? Probably not. Most likely they’d crack a bottle of something expensive and toast the fact that he wasn’t muddying their name with his slimy Gryffindor skin anymore. Sirius pressed his palms to his eyelids to dispel the bad thoughts. He’d told him that he had to stay. A sigh escaped his mouth, he didn’t want to think about him, but he also wanted it more than he wanted anything ever. Before he could settle into some fanciful scenario where he had the one thing he wanted, a familiar screeching voice pierced into his skull. 

Bloody hell he thought. 

==========================================

You must try to control yourself. The wounds are getting worse.

The shrieking shack is a temporary thing.

Ro- Remus. Please. This on top of everything else?

A rough moon was never much fun. No moon was ever much fun. The novelty had worn off, well, the novelty had never really been there to start with. One upside he thought drily I have no issues with a little scarring. As it turned out, magic could perform the desired removal, but not without leaving a trace. Didn’t bother him. He’d had to wait sixteen years to finally feel less like he wanted to crawl out of himself every time he was self-aware, which was constantly.

He admired his scars in the mirror, they were peculiarly shaped, as was natural after a modification done by magic. He decided he quite liked the smoke-like swirls of scar tissue that curled a little way under his nipples. Much more appealing than the white slash that started at his right eyebrow and ended along his left cheek. The sight of his face brought back an insensitive comment James had made, early into his knowledge of Remus’. . . furry little problem he smiled to himself at the codename his friends had come up with.

After a particularly rough night, the one that gave him the face scar in fact, James had cheekily suggested that Remus might have a thing for pain. He’d been so taken aback that he hadn’t reacted, even when James was clocked on the nose by Sirius of all people. Protective, the word came to mind when the situation resurfaced in his memory, dog-like, he hummed, pleased with himself. Remus didn’t speak up often, overshadowed by two certain fools with voices bigger than their, well, you can guess. As he reminisced, the uncomfortable feeling that prickled at his spine made an appearance. He shrugged it off, he had many explanations as to why he might be feeling uncomfortable, so the tiny one at the bottom of the list stayed firmly buried in the little box Remus kept in his rib-cage. Now was not the time for daydreaming, now was the time to start obliterating his false identity from everything he owned, the one forced upon him at birth. His mother had made it clear she thought this was a bad idea. She couldn’t understand why one would want more discrimination on top of being a. . . filthy half-breed he read the sub-heading on the Daily Prophet that rested on his desk chair. He would laugh. Specifically, the ridiculous barking laugh that made him want to live in a cave in the woods for the rest of his life. Before he could think of him, before he let himself slip away, a soft voice called for him to come to lunch.

Damn he thought.

Chapter Text

“Pads! Pale little git aren’t you?”

“Oh fuck off”

A real smile just about split Sirius’ face in two as he stood on the doorstep of the Potter house. The ache was still there, it always was, but seeing his best friend, no, his brother standing in the doorway of the well-lit house made the ache less unbearable. He followed James into the house, almost crying in relief. James never let him suffer at home for long. He grinned as they entered the lounge, clearly the Potters had agreed to let James have people over. Maybe they’d moved past the whipped cream incident of ‘75. He returned Peter’s greeting, winked at Dorcas and Marlene, then scoured the room for a certain frayed sweater. Remus appeared to be doing the same, looking for him that is, and when he caught Sirius’ eye he calmly held his gaze. The older boy lasted approximately two and half seconds before pulling a hideous face that caused Remus to snort his drink up his nose.

“How’re your holidays going?”

He sat on the armrest of the couch, giving the spluttering Remus a consoling pat on the back. He spluttered for a moment before glaring at Sirius with watery eyes.

“Oh you know,” he wiped his mouth, “nothing like a brush with death to keep things lively.”

Sirius glanced at the fresher looking scars that wound their way up the werewolf’s neck. He raised an eyebrow.

“Rabbit misbehaving again?”

Remus’ eyes crinkled at the edges.

“You know it,” he sighed, “might have to just get rid of the little beggar.”

Sirius took the drink out of his hand and sipped. Remus just fixed him with a long-suffering gaze until he gave the cup back. Empty, of course.

===================================================================

Remus had been chatting with Marlene for a good hour before Sirius showed up. She made good conversation, they had a lot in common, and Remus felt sure he should at least fancy her or something. But no, as usual, there was nothing. And Marlene had confessed to him that she and Dorcas were dancing around each other anyway.

“So James,”

They had sat together in a circle, chatting about what they would get up to once back at school, when Dorcas nudged James with a raised eyebrow.

“Has Lily owled you back?” She tried unsuccessfully to smother her laugh.

James scowled. “No,” he feigned indifference, “and I don’t care. She can have Snivellous Snape if that’s what wants. That’s the way she’s going if she doesn’t drop the spidery git.”

Sirius scoffed at him. “So those five pages you sent me for proofreading weren’t for-”

He was cut off by James throwing himself on top of him and planting a hand firmly over his nose and mouth. Peter, Dorcas, and Marlene fell about laughing while Remus patiently tried to pry James off of Sirius, who by now had started turning blue.

“Anyway,” James panted, “I’m pretty sure Lily might be playing for the other team,” his lip popped into a firm pout.

Marlene jabbed James with the fire poker. “And so what if she is?” She jabbed him mercilessly until he scrambled over to hide behind a disgruntled Remus.

“I dunno!” a yelp escaped his mouth as Marlene leaned over to reach him with the poker, “you lesbians are so complex,” his huff quickly turned into a screech of fear when Marlene threw the poker like a javelin at his head.

She grinned when James stuck his tongue out at her. “We are no more complex than you, dung for brains.”

Remus had long drifted from the conversation, he had something far more interesting to look at. The painting above the fireplace reminded him of somewhere, and he was determinedly trying to figure out where while not looking at Sirius attempting to curl his own hair with Remus’ wand.

They all got steadily drunker, James having mastered the refilling spell a long time before he should have. Peter tapped the wireless with his wand, and Remus winced as the noise hit his ears. His mind felt pleasantly fuzzy, but the music just made his head hurt.

He migrated to the couch, and watched as Sirius and James shotgunned a can of beer each with much fanfare from Peter. They had the volume of the wireless cranked on to a loud, and frankly, unenjoyable song. James was stumbling over his words by now, hugging everyone and clinging to Sirius like a scab. A faint flicker of annoyance sparked in Remus’ stomach. He got up and pulled Sirius from where he was leaning on the mantlepiece.

“Let’s dance,” he whispered, lifting Sirius’ arm to his shoulder.

“M’kay,” the elder slurred, swaying on the spot with Remus supporting nearly all of his weight.

Remember once I told you 'bout

How before I heard it from your mouth

Both of their breaths sounded feather-light, heady, smelt of bad beer.

My name would always hit my ears

As such an awful sound

Remus’ sweater caught on the studs that poked from Sirius’ jacket. A thread pulled loose.

And the soul, if that's what you'd call it

Uneasy ally of the body

James found them from across the room. One arm wrapped around each of their shoulders.

It felt nameless as a river undiscovered underground

Peter laid a hand on James’ back. Marlene and Dorcas had long gone to the spare room. They all sank to the floor, heads on shoulders, snores spilling from congested noses, and the faint hum of soft-spoken lyrics from the wireless curling through the room like a thickening mist.