Chapter Text
Unlike everyone else at Hogwarts, Remus had spent his whole life up to now exclusively with four friends. Obviously, he spoke to other people, but even then, the numbers were always minimal. He had always known he was inherently taciturn and aloof, finding himself on the outskirts of society. Scraping by, Remus would paste on a smile and muddle his way through conversations that he could never commit to.
It was hard sometimes, being a half-blood at Hogwarts, especially since Lyall Lupin liked to pretend that the Wizarding World didn’t exist. Even though most of the students weren’t psychotic blood purist wankers, there was always a silent divide that rippled through the students. Remus had grown used to it, became accustomed to being slow to the uptake whenever his friends spoke about a witch band he’d never heard of, or spoke about magical creatures Remus had thought came from fairy tales exclusively.
He didn’t care about Quidditch, and he barely understood the politics of the wizarding world. Really, he just knew who was on the wrong side and who was on the right side. He’d spent his whole life listening to James and Sirius talk about it with a burning in their voices. Even Peter was more engaged than he was in that, reading the articles about rumours of a deranged group of blood purists attacking muggles alongside everyone else.
Remus had never been like James, who seemed to know every person he passed in the hall. And not just that, but he also seemed to genuinely care about how every person he passed in the hall was doing.
Peter had friends from the chess club, as well as classmates that he spoke to in passing when Remus couldn’t even name everyone in their year. While James, Remus and Sirius had made sure they’d picked all the same subjects as they progressed through the years, Peter had just picked what he was genuinely interested in. The circumstances had forced him to meet new people, while Remus had just continued leaning on James and Sirius.
And Sirius Black just always seemed to have people trailing after him. It made Remus feel a bit sick actually now, gut clenching with a confusing sense of disgust and pity, as he watched girls follow after Sirius, practically begging him to take them to Hogsmeade. As he saw guys chase Sirius down, pleading with him to give them all Quidditch tips, enthusiastic smiles looking pinned onto their faces.
It made Remus’ stomach turn because all he could see in Sirius’ adoring fans was himself. The him he was very much trying to leave behind. Trying so pathetically hard.
So, since he’d spent his whole life firmly beside James, Peter, and Sirius, it felt weird being without the three of them. Like he’d lost his arm. And instead of trying to reattach his arm, he’d left it to rot.
Although, he was genuinely starting to like Regulus and his friends. He wasn’t convinced they all liked him back, especially Crouch - who seemed like he was trying to kill Remus with his glares every time he walked into the room.
He’d been expecting to drown without his old friends. He hadn’t ever really considered the possibility of living without them. But here he was, lying outside on the soft grass and breathing. With Dorcas to his right, painting her nails a bright red, and Pandora on his left, drawing flowers on his hand, Remus reckoned he was perfectly fine swimming along with these new people.
It had taken him a couple of days to not flinch every time Regulus Black smiled, because for the past five years he’d thought the other boy was physically incapable of it. And he still felt his skin crawl slightly whenever Evan Rosier looked at him with his big, dark eyes. Not necessarily in a bad way, but Evan had a way of peeling back your skin and muscle and sinew with his eyes, and a grin that revealed that he knew exactly what you were doing.
It had taken him a while to get used to them all, and not just because their group was the polar opposite to the Marauders. And not just in the obvious ways, like the fact that all five of them were as posh as the bloody Queen herself, or how they spoke about murder and war as if they were speaking about pranks and homework.
It also took him a while to start genuinely seeing them as their own people, and not just as an extension of Regulus. Who Remus used to see as an extension of Sirius.
It clearly wasn’t just Remus who had taken a while to get used to it. The whole fucking school stared at him like his hair was on fire every time he walked down the halls, a Slytherin at his side. It had been a little over two weeks now, and while the attention had died down significantly, he still felt eyes baring into his back every time him and Dorcas made their way to Ruins together, or he studied with Evan in the library, the other boy grinning wolfishly up at him.
But no one had actually said anything to him. Well, one person had tried to.
“What the fuck?”
That first night, the night Remus had found himself sat at the Slytherin table for dinner, Sirius had exploded. He’d been expecting it. Sirius’ reaction was honestly the main reason why he’d done it. He’d been craving the burning anger that he knew prowled under Sirius’ skin. Sick of fucking apologies, Remus had wanted Sirius to burn just as badly as him.
When he’d walked into their dorm that night, chest feeling lighter than it had in days, Sirius had been waiting for him. The air was thick, and Remus could feel it suffocating him as soon as he stepped over the threshold. Brown eyes clashed against ice blue as Sirius stood on one side of the room, and Remus on the other.
James and Peter were off somewhere, and he wondered whether the two of them thought this was something Sirius and Remus should talk about alone, or if Sirius had kicked the two of them out in a rage.
“Really, Remus?” Sirius had spat, eyes wide and furious. Despite himself, despite everything, a smile spread slowly across Remus’ face, soft and smug. “You’re stooping real fucking low, alright?” Sirius continued, taking a ginger step towards him. His pale hands were wandering through the air, gesturing wildly at nothing in particular. “I mean, for Merlin’s sake, my brother? My little shit of a brother?”
“You told us a couple of months ago that you didn’t have a brother,” Remus replied slowly, feeling his own flaming anger rise up in his chest, licking against his ribs. “I thought Regulus was dead to you.”
A humourless laugh fell from Sirius’ lips as he shook his head in disbelief, black hair falling like a curtain in front of his face. He looked so beautiful, standing there looking like he wanted to hit something. Remus despised it.
“I get that you’re annoyed-”
“Fuck you, Sirius,” Remus hissed. “You’re the one who did this to us, to the group. What else would you have me do?”
“Sit with us,” the other boy scowled, as if that wasn’t the most unfair thing anyone had ever asked of Remus. “Sit with your friends.”
“You are not my friend,” Remus told him, ire in his voice. How could Sirius even think there was a possibility that they were still friends after everything. After Sirius had tried to force him into murdering someone.
“Well sit with anyone fucking else then!” Sirius yelled, fingers twitching into fists. “He doesn’t get to sit with you. You’re not supposed to go around sitting with the cretin that is Regulus Black! I’m not going to let that happen.”
Remus refused to match Sirius’ volume, even as irritation washed over him in waves. Even as he felt the burning, feral desire to rip Sirius’ head clean off his shoulders. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, wankstain,” he said as calmly as he could, feeling his heart thudding in his chest.
“You shouldn’t have to be told not to sit with death eaters, Remus,” Sirius hissed, speaking to him like he was a child.
“And maybe you shouldn’t have tried to ruin my fucking life,” he bit back, teeth snapping. Sirius fell silent at that, anger falling away from his face to reveal a pitiful cast of regret.
“I’ve already apologised for that,” Sirius said slowly, as if that meant anything to Remus at all.
“I know,” he nodded solemnly, voice coming out as a whisper, the fire in his chest crackling its way through his veins. “I know you have.”
Grey eyes widened; Sirius took another small step towards him. Remus turned away, moving towards his bed, reaching out for his pyjamas.
“I don’t know what else you want me to do,” Sirius continued, clearly ignoring the fact that Remus was trying to pretend that Sirius Black didn’t exist. “I don’t know what else I can do to fix this.”
“I don’t want you to do anything,” Remus punched out. “I don’t want you to try anymore. It’s broken.”
“Broken things can be fixed though,” Sirius tried. Each word he spoke felt like another knife making its way through Remus’ skin.
“Merlin, can you just-just shut the fuck up, Black?” he choked out, eyes screwed shut. The other boy didn’t say anything, finally doing what Remus had asked of him. But somehow, that was worse. The silence between the two of them stretched on and on, and Remus could feel it yanking on his bones, on his skin, desperately trying to make its way home to Sirius.
And because Remus never really could handle silence, and because he loved ruining things just as much as Sirius did, words found themselves falling from his mouth without his own consent. “You’re just like her, y’know?” he proclaimed, shoulders hunched as he kept his back to Sirius.
“Every year, you’d come back to school complaining about how awful she was to you, and then how she had the gall to try and call you her son, her heir.” The silence continued to stretch on and on and on. “How she ruined your life, and even then, tried to control it.”
“You can’t control me,” Remus said, voice unwavering as he glanced over his shoulder. Sirius was looking at him like he didn’t know who he was. “Just because you’re Sirius Black and think you’re Merlin’s gift to mankind doesn’t mean you get to throw a tantrum when people won’t fix the things you broke for you.”
Sirius stopped trying to speak to him after that. Stopped seeing Remus all together.
That didn’t stop James and Peter from trying to speak to him though.
The morning after Remus had thrown away his loyalties to Gryffindor, James and Peter cornered him after Potions.
“What’s going on, Remus?” James had asked, face genuinely pained, as if Remus sitting with other people for a meal had cut him up inside. “You can still sit with us. We want you to still sit with us.”
“I know, James,” Remus nodded, clutching his books to his chest, and wishing he was anywhere else but there.
“So, you’ll sit with us at lunch?” Peter asked, a tentative smile on his face. Remus didn’t miss the way it faltered when he shook his head, refusing to meet either of his friends in the eye.
“But why?” James asked, brows furrowed. “You don’t need to sit with them, Remus. We-”
“I want to be with them,” Remus replied, awkwardly clearing his throat. “They’re nice.”
“They’re nice,” James repeated incredulously, sharing a glance with Peter before they both sent unamused looks in Remus’ direction.
“Look, I know you guys want everything to go back to the way it was before, but that can’t happen. It’s not going to happen. And I’m not going to force you to pick sides.” Because we all know who you’ll both pick went unsaid.
James and Sirius were like brothers. Remus was pretty sure they’d drop dead if someone tried to separate them. And Peter would do whatever James did, without question.
“So, I’m just removing myself from the situation. You can keep sitting with Sirius, I know he’s your friend. I don’t mind.”
“But-” James went to start protesting, but Remus really couldn’t bear hearing any of it anymore, so he shot them a smile he hoped was reassuring and didn’t betray how hurt the whole thing was still making him feel and walked off.
He hadn’t really spoken to the two of them since then, making sure he came back up to the dorm late enough that they’d be asleep. He knew Peter and James had stayed up a couple of times, waiting for him to come back. But before the other boys could ever say anything, Remus was clambering into his own bed and throwing up charms so no one could speak to him.
“What’re you wearing tonight, Pan?” Dorcas asked as she held her nails up to the sun, smiling at her own handiwork.
“That blue dress,” Pandora answered, voice as sparkly as ever as her pen ran soft ink over Remus’ skin. “I never have any clothes that fit with the dress code,” she added with a pout, pushing the pen against her ear as Remus looked down at the carnations sketched all over his right hand. Dark fingers, soft and beautiful, went to brush his jumper up his arm, presumedly so she could find more skin to draw on. But Remus choked on the air, instinctively drawing his arm away from her.
Pandora didn’t say anything, but Remus knew she noticed it because the smile that seemed constant on her face fell, teeth biting at her lips as she met his eyes. Before he could speak, words withering up and dying on his tongue because what could he even say? How could he explain the harsh, ugly scars littering his arms? His legs, his torso. Behind his knees and snaking their way up into his armpits and his waist. The Wolf desperately trying to slice itself out of his own body even now
How could he explain that while Pandora had a permanent glistening in her eyes, like she was the starry night itself, he had scars? While Dorcas had her red lipstick painted on her lips, and eyeliner so sharp it could cut, Remus had ruinous marks that was a constant reminder of how his body wasn’t even his own.
But he didn’t need to explain, because Pandora just shuffled down slightly, taking her pen to the skin of his ankle that was exposed to the skin. The ink tickled as she continued drawing, but he decided to ignore it, looking up at Dorcas instead.
“Slytherin parties have a dress code?” he asked with an incredulous grin. Dorcas rolled her eyes at him, blowing on the fresh red paint on her nails as she said, “Just because you’ve never been to a party with some decorum, Lupin.”
“Doesn’t sound like my cup of tea,” he shrugged, trying to imagine himself at a Slytherin party and failing miserably. He couldn’t even picture himself at a Gryffindor party anymore.
He could see the general scenes unfold before him; the gaggle of rowdy teenagers roaring with laughter and bursting into giggles as a green bottle spun around in a circle; lipstick smeared across faces, red streaks staining couch cushions; the charmed record player spinning eagerly, Elton John and Fleetwood Mac pouring their souls out as the Gryffindors danced like they couldn’t help it.
But he couldn’t see himself in any of these images anymore. Because his whole being had been so intrinsically stitched together with Sirius, James and Peter. He would be sitting next to Peter as their friends played Spin the Bottle, rolling their eyes together and looking on with grimaces. He would be standing beside Marlene and Mary as he watched James enchant a new girl at every party, effortlessly charming smile ending up pressed against her lips.
He never danced like he couldn’t help it. Never danced unless Sirius asked him to. Some parties he didn’t, and Remus would spend the whole night desperate for him to. Some parties he did, and Remus would have to pretend like it wasn’t the best thing he’d ever heard. They would dance to ABBA and Remus would say how much he hated the music they played.
Sirius would laugh, head thrown back and hair strewn all over his beautiful face. He would lean in, still dancing along to the music and say, “The world’s spinning, Remus. It would be a crime to just stand there.”
“I’m sure your dress is lovely,” he added, resolving to push all further thoughts of Sirius from his brain, glancing up at Pandora. She smiled happily at that, leaning against his shoulder. The three of them continued like that for a while, Pandora and Dorcas talking about their outfits as Remus closed his eyes and felt the sun brush against his face.
There was something so glorious about the Scottish sun that hung over the school. Remus was pretty sure it was because it was rarely ever there. He actually loved the grey painted skies, dotted with grey clouds leaving wispy trails everywhere, like someone up in space had tripped over a paint can.
Remus appreciated that the Scottish sky seemed to acknowledge how breathtakingly beautiful the country was and painted itself in a dull colour so as to not distract from the endless forests and mountains and lakes down below.
It reminded him of the Rosier twins actually. Pandora always sparkling, with lace twisted around her wrists and ankles, and beads and jewels braided into her dyed blonde hair. And Evan hovering beside her, flirting with the shadows that lingered beneath windowsills and under doors in his black jumpers and his unassuming features.
But the Scottish sun was a glorious thing to behold, the few days it made an appearance. Whenever the sun decided to peek out from the thick clouds, the pupils of Hogwarts normally took to skiving off of classes, sprawling out in the courtyards with as little clothing on as possible. Sunglasses made their appearances, sticky with orange juice as they were passed from face to face. Friends grabbed them off of each other’s faces, and girls walked around with their boyfriend’s perched on their heads.
“Obviously,” Pandora nodded in response to something Dorcas had asked, before her eyes went wide. A soft, twinkly smile kissed her face, and she leaned across Remus to share a look with Dorcas. Remus tried to ask what was wrong, but the two of them ignored him. Even as he tried to push himself up onto his elbows, brows furrowing in confusion. Dorcas hummed before running her eyes over Remus once.
“It would be entertaining,” she finally said, arching a brow up at Pandora.
“What would be?” he demanded, frowning as he looked between the two of them.
“If you came tonight,” Pandora answered, white teeth blinding as she grinned down at him. Laughing, Remus shook his head and dropped back onto the grass. “Absolutely not,” he said, pointedly ignoring the matching grins painted on the two girls’ faces.
He pointedly refused. Which was why he was confused and slightly irritated as to how he had ended up in Evan, Barty and Regulus’ dorm room. None of the other boys were even there, Pandora and Dorcas having no qualms about essentially breaking into the room, dragging him along with them.
Pandora had the silky blue dress on, velvet ballet pumps tied neatly across her ankles. As Dorcas tugged at Remus’ unruly hair, and pushed at his scarred skin, humming at every bit of acne she came across, Pandora was threading little beads and felt butterflies into her blonde dreads that fell all the way down to her waist.
Glancing around the room as Dorcas tried to style his hair, Remus was still coming to terms with the fact that this was Black, Crouch and Rosier’s room. He couldn’t have said what he was expecting beforehand, but it definitely wasn’t this. It wasn’t poorly drawn doodles tacked up against the walls, and books organised alphabetically on the shelves. It wasn’t the guitar leaning against the wardrobe, or the muggle football peeking out from one of the beds.
There were vinyls lying across the floor, and while Remus could respect the muggle music, he couldn’t respect the fact that one of the boys in this dorm listened to ABBA willingly. Shoved into the sleeve of a Stones album was a very poorly hidden bag of weed. Someone had also scribbled with ink all over a Fleetwood Mac album, etching out all of the faces.
There were some things that he was very much so expecting. Like the box of intricate and confusingly beautiful daggers sitting carelessly on one of the desks. Or the magnitude of Defence Against the Dark Arts textbooks stacked up and labelled with little tabs. But these things didn’t match up with the ABBA or the scuffed ball in Remus’ head. Someone who listened to ABBA couldn’t own multiple weapons.
“Merlin, you are handsome, Lupin,” Dorcas whistled at him as she dropped onto her knees right in front of where he was sitting, placing two hands on his cheeks. “If I swung that way, you would totally be mine.”
Remus’ breath hitched at that. He’d suspected, what with Dorcas obsessing over Marlene, but she hadn’t said anything that obvious directly to him yet. “You wish,” he said, and Dorcas’ smile was just a bit big to just be from amusement as his joke.
“You’re so handsome, but I just wish you’d let me give you a little bit of flair,” she pouted, running her fingers over the edge of his eyes. Shaking his head, he lightly brushed her hands away from his face, “I’m alright. Thanks for offering,” he added as he watched her smile falter.
She rolled her eyes, shuffling away from him towards one of the wardrobes. “What’re you doing?” he asked as she started pulling out shirts that looked more expensive than anything he owned.
“What do you think?” she asked, holding up one of the silky shirts against her torso, shaking her hips from side to side. Before either him or Pandora could respond, the door was being pushed open and the three people who actually lived in the dorm were filing in.
“Hot,” Barty nodded as he dropped onto one of the beds, kicking his shoes off. It seemed pointed when both of them fell right beside Remus, almost taking his head off. “You always look far better in Reg’s clothes than he does, the ugly bastard.”
Remus watched as Regulus rolled his eyes, before dropping down beside him, knees tucked against his chest. “They convinced you to come then?” he asked, shrugging off his robes. Struck with how young Regulus looked, sitting there in his pristine school uniform, Remus tried to think if he looked that young too. He was only a year older than Regulus, than the rest of them apart from Dorcas, but sometimes he felt decades older.
His body didn’t feel new and untouched, ready to carve its way through the world. At the grand old age of sixteen he was already ruined.
Nodding slowly in response, Remus picked at his fraying jumper. “They said there was a dress code,” he said, glancing down at Regulus gingerly.
“Well, you’re with us,” Regulus shrugged, as if that meant anything. “No one’s going to bother you if you don’t listen to the ‘dress code,’” he elaborated at the look on Remus’ face. “But I mean, you could always borrow something of Barty’s if you wanted.”
The two of them looked over to where Barty and Dorcas were stood together, watching themselves in the mirror like they were the most ethereal creatures they’d ever seen. That was something Remus hadn’t expected from the Slytherins – the way all of them liked to watch their own reflections. In each silver spoon, in an especially clean cauldron, he saw one of them peering at their own face with a devilish grin. Even Regulus did it, albeit less so than the others. Preening themselves like vain cats.
“What do you think?” Dorcas asked the group as she glanced over herself and Barty one more time.
“About what?” Dora asked as she laced up her shoes.
“Who looks the sluttiest?” Dorcas rolled her eyes, as if that question had been obvious. “Me or him?” she added, jutting her finger in Barty’s direction as the tall boy smirked, eyes twinkling with his usual unhinged, murderous look, raking long hands through dark hair.
“Barty,” Evan answered from where he was lying on one of the beds, leg thrown over the edge.
“Your opinion is disqualified due to favouritism,” Dorcas snapped back, eyes narrowed. Evan just grinned, ignoring Dorcas as he mockingly blew Barty a kiss. The other boy caught it to his chest with a smirk, before condescendingly dropping his arm onto Dorcas’ head and calling out, “So that is one point to me, thanks to Evan dearest.”
“Is looking slutty a compliment?” Remus asked from where he was sat, turning to Regulus in confusion. The only times he’d really heard that word come up in conversation was when Lily and Marlene spoke about feminist politics and the social movements going on in the muggle world. It had never sounded like a positive attribute when they spoke about it.
“From Evan it is,” Regulus nodded, brows lowered in exasperation. “I assume you don’t want to borrow something of Barty’s then?” he asked. Smiling softly, Remus shook his head, glancing back to Dorcas and Barty as Barty rubbed something that looked like crayon all over Dorcas’ eyes. While he could easily admit they both looked beautiful, all draped in black velvet and unsettling shadows, he couldn’t ever picture himself looking like that.
Honestly, Remus couldn’t ever picture himself being that comfortable in his own skin. “I don’t think slut really goes with my look,” he said to Regulus. “I’ll probably just stick with this,” he added, picking at his holey jumper.
“Wear whatever you want. I don’t care,” Reg shrugged as he pushed himself up onto his feet. Leaning down towards his drawers, he snatched up his own clothes. Go figure he was also planning on wearing black. “It’s not like anyone’s going to be looking at you when you’re stood next to me, Lupin,” he added with a smile, dimples creasing before he was vanishing into the bathroom, door clicking shut behind him.
Laughing to himself, Remus dropped his head onto the bed he was sitting against, merely soaking in the laughter and lively chatter around him. It wasn’t long after they were all changed, that Barty and Evan were revealing their hidden collection of alcohol, muggle and wizard alike, and Remus figured it he was going to a Slytherin party, he might as well get absolutely fucked off his head for it.
Pandora and Remus passed the bottle of Welsh whiskey between them as Dorcas decided to mimic every word he said with the worst accent he’d ever heard in his life. As they all sat in a circle, wooden floors hurting his joints terribly, he noticed that Regulus wasn’t drinking much at all.
The younger boy met his eye, grey staring back at brown, as if daring Remus to comment on it. But Remus was never one to comment on people’s behaviours, considering he’d spent his whole life dreading that people would pick up on his own, so he just took another swig from the bottle and shot Regulus a wink.
After a couple drinks, sat on the floor of a dorm room decorated with green instead of red, Remus was staring to forget that he wasn’t a Slytherin himself.
The six of them made their way to the common room together, Remus clearly sticking out like a sore thumb with his jumper and scuffed to fuck boots, but feeling too light inside to care. Chest warm from the drinks, and the feeling on Pandora’s hand in his, the usual coldness of the Slytherin common room didn’t even bother him.
He was surprised to see students from all the other houses at the party, and not just a bunch of Slytherins sitting about drinking wine and talking about politics and boring shit and generally being pretentious bellends. There were Ravenclaws that Pandora knew, and she split off from the group to speak to them, joining their circle with her blue skirts dancing around her legs.
Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors were also at the party, dancing around the room with drinks in hand. Remus’ jaw swung open when he saw Gryffindors from his year standing by the fireplace, laughing themselves hoarse with some Slytherins.
It was dark in the room, as to be expected due to the complete lack of windows in the dungeons, but people had strung incredibly cheap looking twinkly lights along the ceiling. They’d clearly been charmed to emit green light, casting mossy shadows across people’s skin as they danced. Remus was so caught up in staring at everything that he hadn’t even realised everyone he’d walked in with had vanished.
He flinched when he felt someone prop their jaw against his shoulder, glancing down to see Evan blinking up at him. The light was making his dyed white twists appear a luminous green. He looked kind of ethereal as he peered up at Remus with his dark eyes. Like a nymph or something otherworldly.
“Don’t drink anything, sweetheart,” Evan warned with a grin. He always said things slowly, the words slipping out from his mouth as if he couldn’t help himself. The complete opposite to what Remus was used to. Normally, James and Sirius’ voices were a constant background sound. Like there was a radio constantly switched on nearby, filling a room with lively chatterings. Remus had gotten so used to it in the past five years that the absence of it felt almost painful. Like someone was constantly covering his ears, cutting out the constant humming of conversation he was used to.
The Slytherins seemed to appreciate the silence a lot more than his roommates did. Especially Evan Rosier, who seemed to rather bask in the conversation, whether it be Regulus and Barty arguing, or Dorcas and Dora talking about homework. Which was why Remus didn’t fully understand how Evan had ended up with Barty Crouch, the loudest man on the planet, as a best friend.
But sometimes Evan would say some insane, out-of-pocket shit and Barty would beam at him like he was Shakespeare, and the stars would align. Remus had never witnessed someone so upper-class spout out such cruel yet imaginative insults.
“Why shouldn’t I drink anything?” he asked, brows furrowing. Evan grinned, eyes blinking slowly like an amused cat, before he gestured towards the table laden with bottles of firewhiskey and wine. Bottles that Dorcas and Barty seemed to be tampering with.
“Are they spiking the bev?” Remus asked incredulously. Turning back to Evan, the entertained look on his face was answer enough. “With what?”
“Amortentia,” Evan shrugged, as if that wasn’t the stupidest shit he’d ever heard. Actually, Evan was watching his friends with a burning look of pride painted over his face. “They do it every time.”
“Why?” Remus asked, watching on curiously as Dorcas and Barty slunk away from the table casually, smirking at each other before they dispersed into the sea of dancing students.
“Why not,” Evan responded, tilting his head to the side. Remus opened his mouth to keep pressing, but Evan had clearly grown bored of the conversation because he was suddenly making his way towards where everyone else was dancing to music Remus didn’t recognise. Hands waving in the air and cups sloshing the spiked drinks onto clothes that looked more expensive than anything Remus owned.
Evan disappeared without another glance back, swallowed up easily by the crowd. Leaving Remus awkwardly stood alone on the fringes of the party, picking at the sleeve of his jumper as he glanced around him. It didn’t take long for him to spot Regulus, who was standing alone, watching the scenes unfold in front of him as if he was bored.
“Not really your scene?” Remus asked as he stood beside him, leaning against the wall.
“I suppose not,” Regulus nodded, not looking up at Remus as he spoke, eyes trained onto the people laughing with their heads thrown back. Regulus’ friends were dancing right in the middle of the crowd, eyes sparkling as their limbs tangled together.
The twins were doing what Remus thought was probably a choregraphed dance, moving not in time to the music, but with each other, Pandora’s braids swishing around the two of them. But he also wouldn’t be surprised if it was just some Rosier twin telepathy shit.
Barty and Dorcas were dancing as well, her arms thrown round his neck as they took up too much space, grins growing wider as they stumbled into people beside them.
“I don’t particularly enjoy acting like a fool,” Regulus said as the two of them watched everyone else dance. “Especially since everyone else is so good at it.”
“I don’t think dancing makes you a fool,” Remus objected, biting down on his cheek as he ran through every single party he’d been to before. Sirius had never looked like a fool when he danced. He’d always looked like heaven. Like dancing had been invented purely for him, to praise him, to worship him.
Heart clenching awfully, Remus glanced down to see the other Black brother looking at him like he was a moron. “The Blacks aren’t big dancers,” he admitted, arms folded loosely against his chest, grey eyes hardening. Remus wondered who tried to expel all thoughts of Sirius Black from their minds more; him or Regulus.
“What a surprise,” Remus snorted. “I really though your mother would be hitting the electric slide at the family reunions.”
“The electric slide?” Regulus questioned, looking up at Remus like he’d just remembered he wasn’t a pretentious pureblood like himself, and was momentarily nauseated by it.
“It’s a dance,” Remus explained, finding himself laughing at the expression on Regulus’ face. Without saying anything else, Remus positioned himself, so he was standing in front of the younger boy and started illustrating the dance for him. Feeling strands of sandy hair fall in his face as he stepped from left to right, Remus danced as well as he could to the god awful 1930s music the Slytherins seemed to be obsessed with.
“C’mon Black,” Remus said, gesturing for Regulus to join him. All he got was a blank stare in response.
“This is extremely embarrassing for you, Lupin,” Regulus said after a moment, rolling his shoulders under his silky, lovely shirt. “You’re never going to be invited back to one of these.”
“I’ll remind you that I didn’t actually want to come to this,” he objected as he raised a brow.
Regulus nodded solemnly, and while Remus had to give it to Regulus Black, he had definitely mastered the art of looking pissed off, he didn’t miss the smile that dared to pass over the younger boy’s lips.
“Yeah, you really look like you’re under duress right now,” he said, gesturing up and down as Remus continued dancing until the music switched to something he finally recognised. But as the voice of Bowie filled the room, a couple people cheering to the song, Remus’ heart squeezed brutally. He fell out of the dance easily, plastering a smile on his face.
“Scorching in here, innit?” he said, ignoring the way his voice caught in his throat. “I think I’m going to go and get some air.” He finished by clearing his throat, trying to dislodge all of the ugly feelings trying to scratch their way out of him.
“I can-” Regulus started, almost looking pained at the fact he was offering to comfort someone, but Remus was already firmly shaking his head.
“It’s fine,” he gritted out. “Enjoy the party. I’ll be back in a second.”
“But-”
Remus glared down at Regulus, feeling painfully warm in the sweater he was wearing, and itchy and awful in the own skin covering his body. “Fuck off, Black,” he warned through clenched teeth. He saw the way Regulus’ face fell, then hardened, throwing Remus back an equally seething glare.
But Remus was already shouldering his way out of the room, needing to be alone before he lost his shit. He stumbled out of the common room, embracing the cool air in the dungeon corridors as his steps fell heavy against the stone floor.
Letting out a slow exhale, he ran his fingers through his matted hair. Well, what a shitty night. Even now, after he’d tried to expel Sirius from his life entirely, he was still finding ways to fuck about with Remus. He couldn’t even appreciate Bowie anymore.
Instead of having to genuinely contemplate on the fact that it was impossible for Sirius to ruin his life in this way, and that maybe he was just a bit obsessed with the other boy, Remus started to head back towards the other side of the castle, ready to fall into his bed. Ready to continue to ignore the confusing emotions in his chest in favour of letting his anger consume him.
But because the universe hated Remus, before he could make it out of the dungeons, Snape was stepping out in front of him. “Lupin,” the other boy sneered, eyes narrowed.
“Fuck off, Snape,” he sighed, making to manoeuvre his way around him, because Remus really couldn’t be fucked with this right now.
“I see your friends have abandoned you now. Since they know what you really are.”
Remus’ attention snapped to Snape; jaw clenched. “Maybe they abandoned me because I failed the job,” he scowled, stepping closer to Snape, almost revelling in the way that the much shorter boy recoiled. “I didn’t kill you like they wanted me to.”
“So, they did abandon you,” Snape said slowly, eyes glistening, completely ignoring Remus' thinly veiled threat.
“Merlin, you have got to get a life, Severus,” Remus sighed. “You’re so tiresome.”
“Sirius told you to fuck off, so you went crawling to Regulus Black instead?” Snape’s grating voice continued, even as Remus walked away. “Taken in by Regulus Black and his group of-” Snape couldn’t even get the word out before Remus was spinning around on his heels and bashing his fist against his jaw.
Snape stumbled back, cradling his face as his fingers twitched. “Ran out of wizarding slurs to spout, have you? Moving onto Muggle ones now?” As soon as Remus finished speaking, Snape was practically launching himself at him, the little psychopath. Teeth bared, Snape scowled at him as he pinned Remus onto the ground, nails digging into him as he struggled.
“Motherfucker,” Remus ground out as Snape bashed his head against Remus’ face. Pain erupted across the nose of his bridge, the familiar feeling of blood trickling down across his cupid’s bow and dipping into his lips, filling his mouth with a metallic taste.
Before he could do anything else, Snape was being roughly yanked off of him, squealing in surprised. Coughing, Remus quickly scrambled up onto his elbows to see Barty Crouch pinning Snape up against the wall, looking every bit as crazed as Remus thought he was.
As messy as Barty was in every other aspect of his life, Remus had never seen someone throw a punch as elegantly as he did.
“Merlin,” Remus breathed, genuine awe painting his tone as he watched Barty shake out his hand. “Stellar,” he said, unable to stop himself as he stared at Barty, properly taking him in for the first time.
The other boy grinned at him, feral and remarkable, before he turned back to Snape. “Fuck with Lupin again and I’ll just kill you next time, Snivellus,” he said, eyes looking a little unhinged as he shoved Snape away from them both. “You’re starting to bore me.”
Snape’s eyes widened, throat bobbing as his lips parted, like he might say something to Barty. But he decided against it, eyes flickering over to Remus with a burning hatred he had never seen someone wear before.
Remus stood beside Barty as they watched him walk away, muttering something under his breath and limping round the corner. His shuffling footsteps against the stone died out, and the two boys were left in a crackling silence. “I didn’t know other people called him Snivellus,” Remus said, voice cutting through the still air.
“Yeah well, I have to give it to your troglodyte friends,” Barty nodded, swinging his head to look at Remus. They were practically the same height, and Remus liked finally being eye-level with someone else. “It’s a catchy nickname.”
“They’re not my friends,” Remus said softly, his boots kicking at the stone floor. Every time he had to admit that his heart clenched up. He figured if he kept repeating it, he’d eventually start to believe it.
But Barty just clapped him on the shoulder before he was wrapping his arm around him and pulling him into his side. “Well, obviously they’re not your friends,” he nodded, dark eyes unblinking as he stared at Remus. Barty really liked to stare. “We are.”
“You know, I thought you hated me,” he admitted as they started walking towards the Gryffindor Tower, Barty’s arm still thrown across his shoulder.
“Well, that was before I saw you kicking the shit out of that wanker.”
“You heard him, then?”
“Yeah,” Barty nodded. “Could’ve jumped in sooner but you seemed like you had it under control.” Remus had nothing to say to that, glancing down at his own knuckles. If there was one thing he wasn’t, it was under control. It seemed like every part of his life couldn’t help but spiral away from his grasp.
“Anyway,” Barty continued, as if he could sense the shift in Remus. “I hate all of my friends,” Barty said easily, chestnut hair falling over his handsome face. “That’s the charm of it all.”
“You don’t hate Evan,” Remus pointed out, too tired and too drunk to avoid that interesting conversation topic. Whether or not Barty Crouch and Evan Rosier were finally get together seemed to be a landmine no one in the group wanted to go near. But Remus was painfully curious and had always been partial to a bit of drama. As someone who had resigned themselves to a life of unrequited love, it was always interesting to hear other people’s issues.
“No,” Barty laughed in agreement. A laugh Remus hadn’t quite heard from the other boy before now. “I don’t hate Rosier. But he’s the exception.”
“Why?”
“Well…” Barty trailed off as they continued walking, tongue running across his teeth. “He’s just all in all exceptional, I’d say.”
“I’d agree,” Remus nodded with a smile.
Barty sent him a look, dark eyes narrowing as he said pointedly, “I don’t want you to agree on that, Lupin.”
The two of them paused when they came to the portrait of the Fat Lady, Barty sending her a wink, ignoring her sputtering as he turned back to Remus. “Well,” he mused, glancing over Remus before he clicked his tongue. “I’ve never been friends with a Gryffindor before,” he said, teeth slightly crooked and brilliantly white as he smiled.
“But I think this’ll be fun.”