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December 31st, 1991
Five minutes to midnight. Remus looks across the crowded muggle bar, eyeing a lithe figure artfully winding through the crowd. This was an outlet he rarely afforded himself, however, 1991 had been a bitch of a year. The tenth anniversary of his best friend's death and a year-long reminder of everything he’d lost had been too much to stomach. Ringing out the year with muggle rum running through his veins and a muggle woman, hopefully, running her nails down his back was just what was needed to finish out this shit year. It might help him forget and move on, new year, new me and all that bollocks people are always going on about.
She’s beautiful, with sparkling grey eyes and wild black curls. For a moment, his memory takes over replacing the woman slowly working her way towards him with broader shoulders, a sharper chin, and a devilish grin. Shaking his head, Remus realizes she’s still headed his way with two glasses clutched in one hand, raised above the crowd so they won’t spill. Their eyes lock when she’s just feet from him. Her eyes, those eyes send chills down his spine.
“Bloody hell!” she shouts, her whole body suddenly jerks forward headed for the ground, the champagne she was carrying showering the bar patrons around her. In a flash, Remus moves in close, his hands around her ribcage to steady her, his torso pressed tightly against hers.
“Easy there love, I’ve got you,” he whispers in her ear, hands still gripping her firmly, the light, crisp scent of pears enveloping him.
“Well, this certainly wasn’t how I intended to introduce myself, but thanks for the hand,” she quipped back, a slight smile playing at the edges of her plush lips. Remus felt a pair of small hands run up his chest. “Name’s Dora, my place or yours?” Startled, Remus felt his eyebrows raise as he pulled away slightly to put some distance between the two. “What?” she laughed, the sound like a tinkling of bells, “don’t you give me that look! We both know why I was coming over here, and judging by the placement of your hands right now you surely seem more than willing.” Tilting his head, Remus realized the placement of his hands on her ribs- large calloused fingers splayed out around her sides and back, thumbs firmly tucked against the underside of her small chest, mindlessly rubbing back and forth against the curve of her soft flesh.
“Caught me,” he shrugged, smirking down at her. Channeling his inner marauder, he pulled her close again, lowering his head a bit, getting caught in the depths of her familiar grey eyes. “So, Dora, you sure about this? Ringing out ‘91 with an old wolf like me?”
Gazing up at him, a growing desire evident on her face, “more like a slightly silver fox, Mr….” she teased breathily, waiting for a name.
“John, just John” he replied. Venturing into the muggle world, his middle name was always more well-received and more easily forgotten than Remus. Finally closing the slender gap between their faces, he whispered across her lips, “Shall we then?” Feeling Dora nod, Remus couldn’t control the growl from rumbling through his chest as his rough lips met her sweet ones in a brief, searing kiss. Ending just as quickly as it began, Remus, still palming her ribcage, twisted Dora around so her back was flush with his chest. Brushing the curls away from her ear, he leaned in close once more, “By all means, love, lead the way.”
As the couple exited the bar onto the dark stretch of muggle London, they could hear the explosion of cheers and laughter behind them. 1991 was gone, finally. Remus breathed deeply, letting himself be led by this spirited woman with captivating locks, trying not to admit to himself who exactly he wished he was following instead.
Hours later, Remus lifted himself from the small bed in the flat clearly shared by several young people still in the process of moving in. Pulling on his denims and thin black jumper, he took a moment to appreciate the softly snoring figure still slumbering in the bed. He reached out, lightly touching the mass of unruly black curls spilling over delicate shoulder blades. Taking a deep breath, he withdrew his touch, turned, and let himself out of the quiet flat, swiftly making his way to a nearby alley, and apparating away.
June 13th, 1992
“OOF!” Remus cried out, as yet another patron of Flourish and Blotts knocked the wind right out of his chest and the books right out of his arms. The patron, a distracted looking middle-aged witch, looked around confused at the now visible pile of books on the floor, before shrugging and continuing on. He’d gotten used to getting knocked into constantly over the last six months. It was an occupational hazard, being silenced, disillusioned, and supposedly non-existent and all. It was the only way the owners of the old bookshop would agree to employ him, as long as nobody knew he was there. He couldn’t get too worked up about it though, it was a paying job which was more than he’d had in a long time. Brushing off his trousers and picking the pile back up, Remus went back to work reshelving unwanted items.
Quickly getting lost in his task yet again, Remus didn’t notice a young, pink-haired witch and her mother amble down the aisle he was working in.
“Nymphadora! Will you please be serious for one minute? Is that really too much to ask?”
Remus’ senses perked. Nymphadora, that wasn’t a name you heard every day. Where did he recognize that name? And what was that scent? It smelled like light, like apples, or pears, something crisp, why did he recognize that scent? Suddenly a distinct, tinkling, bell-like laughter cut through him like a knife. Dora.
“Mom, please chill! You know I’m not serious, that’s cousin...”
“Nymphadora if you finish that sentence, I swear to Merlin your current breath will be your last. How you could even think to joke about that, him, it,” shaking her head, flustered, voice dropping to a whisper, “you just can’t. I can’t believe you’d be so crass,” she finished.
“Sorry, sorry! Just seeing him the other day...I don’t know...laughing helps. It helps me, process it maybe? He was my favorite cousin...”
“Ha! He was the only cousin you ever met, young lady.” Dora, no, Nymphadora’s mother replied. “Now please, can we get back to the task at hand? If you need to talk about...him...we can do it later, at home. Alright, darling?”
“Sure mom, of course.”
Remus was frozen, insides slowly turning to hot led. Lungs refusing to cooperate, he leaned back against the bookshelf for support, panting, trying to get any oxygen into his bloodstream. Dora, Nymphadora, Siri...Pad...his baby cousin, the woman he’d slept with just months prior, she was his cousin. The hair, the eyes, it all made sense. Remus thought he might be sick right there on the floor of the shop. And what had she meant, she’d seen him. Surely not, surely there was no way, why would she go there? What reason could she possibly have? What sick joke was the universe playing on him?
That night had been so perfect. Raw, animalistic, frenzied, followed by slow, tender, passionate. It was everything he’d needed to cleanse his soul from the last decade of sadness. It was a fiery, fresh memory that had burned away so much pain. He’d emerged feeling light, confident, like a small piece of him was ready to start the next decade with a sliver of hope. It’s amazing what a thorough shag can do for a person, and he’d reflected on it more often than not over the past handful of months, conjuring the image of her sweat-soaked body writhing beneath him, gaining momentary pleasure from the memory. Disbelief replaced with utter disappointment, memories of that night now left a bitter taste behind. So much for fresh starts.
September 1st, 1992
It was unseasonably warm for September 1st, even tucked away in the shadows. Remus had arrived at the Platform well ahead of the usual crows to secure his favorite spot. Far enough away so that nobody should notice, but close enough to keep an eye on the muggle entrance and carriage doors. His aim was simple, make sure Harry got on the train safely. It was the least Remus could do, it was all Remus could do. Sighing to himself, he scanned the crowd for the boy in question. Checking his watch again, Remus began to get anxious. It was just minutes to 11:00 and there was still no sign of Harry.
A light bump against his shoe pulled him out of his worrying. Looking down, a battered looking training quaffle sat near his feet. Scooping the ball up, Remus hesitantly removed himself from the shadowed alcove. A 4th year, or so it appeared, was headed his way. Figuring the ball belonged to the student, he ambled towards the child.
“This yours, dear? Might want to keep a better hold on it next time.”
*SLAP*
“What, I’m sorry, what?” Remus said dazed, clutching the side of his already swelling eye. Before his eyes, the 4th year morphed into a familiar lithe figure with wild black curls and deep silver eyes before quickly morphing to a bright pink pixie cut and honey colored eyes.
“Oh fuck, John! I’m sorry, well no, I’m not sorry actually. You deserved that.”
Remus’ eyes went wide. “Dora, bloody hell, I need to go.” He turned to rush towards the apparition point.
“Oh no you don’t, buddy. Not again.” Dora started after him. Continuing to push forward, he heard her call again behind him, “I said oh no you don’t!” Faltering mid-stride, Remus felt his whole body snap stiff as a board in what was clearly a full body bind. Falling forward, strong, small hands grabbed his arms steadying him. “Easy there, love, I’ve got you,” he heard Dora snarl, then felt the crushing pressure of apparition.
Popping back into existence, Remus found himself in a familiar room. Smallish bed in the corner, familiar quilt adorning it. Stomach sinking, he felt Dora release the body bind.
“Okay, John, if that is your name, you’ve got some explaining to do. I’ll even give you options! Feel free to start with who you are and why you were on the platform, or why you didn’t tell me you were a wizard, or why you bloody well left. I’m not some overly romantic sap but even I know you don’t share a night like what we had and disappear into thin air without so much as a ‘thanks, nice to know you’ the next morning. Well, get talking buddy!”
Remus sat dazed for just a moment, before breathing deeply. Senses overwhelmed by that now familiar crisp pear scent.
“I’m a wizard, as you know. My name is Remus John Lupin, and I wasn’t following you. I didn’t even know you’d be at the platform today, or that you’re a witch, for that matter. I was there to make sure the child of a friend got on the train unharmed. Seems like I failed at that too, didn’t even see him and it was nearly 11:00 when we left…”
July 18th, 1993
Remus startled, feeling familiar toned arms snake around his chest, a small frame pressed into his back, head tucked into his shoulder blade, as he gazed out the dark window into the night. Rambunctious curls she only ever wore for him tickling his arms. Two more nights until the moon, he thought morosely where is he, I wonder if he’s looking for me, what if he finds me, fuck how will I handle that, how did he do it, how could he have done it?
“What’s going on, love?” Dora quietly inquired. The flat he was letting was a cramped one room space. The quilt and pillows lay forgotten in a pile on the floor, pushed off the bed during their most recent round of frantic passion. He was always more...feral...the closer it got to the moon.
“It’s nothing Dora, really. Just the moon, that’s all.”
“Remus, are you sure? Things seem different, is it because I mentioned wanting to tell my family about you?”
“No, no of course not, though I’d still prefer you not. It’s your life, but you know this is all I can give you, not to mention our ages. I can’t promise you anything, especially now that I’ll be at Hogwarts come September. I’d rather you tell nobody, just let us have this, what it is, but I’ll never tell you what to do.”
“Then what is it? Is it my cousin escaping? I know you don’t like to talk about your youth but you knew each other at Hogwarts, didn’t you? We’ll find him, it’s just a matter of time.”
“Dora stop, please,” he took a shaky breath, “just, please. Leave it, okay?”
“Sure, Remus. Here let me help distract you,” she huffed playfully, her hands dancing down his chest towards the waistband of his pants.
Just this summer, just a few more nights, then I’ll let her go , Remus told himself, enjoying her skilled touch. She deserves better , he told himself, for the hundredth time, she deserves someone who will look at her and see her and not…” his capacity for thought short-circuiting as he started chasing the feeling of pleasure in earnest. Mind blissfully blank, he succumbed to the moment.
December 31st, 1993
The first half of the school year had been pure bliss mixed with pure torture. Getting to know Harry, finally, after years of watching from the shadows, not being able to do a single thing, was an honor. He was kind, strong, snarky, and had so much potential. Prongs would have been so proud. Becoming a friend to Harry was the only thing that had kept the monsters at bay. He was everywhere, in the corridors, in the classrooms, in the great hall. That wasn’t even accounting for actually seeing him every so often, at the edges of the forest, hiding out in Hagrid’s pumpkin patch during quidditch matches. Remus couldn’t get away. Tonight though, tonight would be a much-deserved escape. Slipping away from the new year’s eve crowd at the Three Broomsticks, he crept up the corner stairs, hopefully unnoticed. Pausing in front of the room which corresponded with the key Rosmerta had slipped in his hand earlier in the evening, Remus cleared his mind of him and tried to only focus on who was waiting for him. Gingerly opening the door, Remus suddenly had an armful of eager witch.
“Fuck, Remus what took you so long? Merlin I’ve missed you,” she moaned out, not hesitating to capture his lips with her own, not giving him a chance to breathe let alone respond verbally.
Hours later, the pair was an indistinguishable tangle of limbs on the rickety bed. Watching the fire idly while drawing lazy circles on Dora’s sweat-slicked back, Remus kissed her mop of unruly curls. “Happy new year, Dora.”
Feeling her smile form against his chest, and the air exhale slowly from her lungs, he heard her respond, “I love you, Remus.”
Trying to retain his composure, Remus didn’t respond, simply continuing his soft touches. Meanwhile, his heart and head could only focus on a single thought. Fuck .
May 20th, 1994
Pacing the halls of Hogwarts, Remus had taken to his nightly route. Granted, he didn’t need to patrol. It wasn’t his assigned evening, but surely another set of eyes couldn’t hurt. It’s not like he’d be getting any sleep anyway. Between his row with Dora, their subsequent back and forth about what they were doing and where they were headed, and the fact that he was still out there, sleep was a thing of the distant past.
After Dora’s declaration on new years eve, she’d understood why he couldn’t say those three words back to her. He’d only ever said them to one person, and deep in his gut he couldn’t bear the thought of looking into anyone else’s eyes, saying it, and meaning it. She had the right shade of irises, but it was the wrong soul attached. Instead, he’d promised he’d try, really try, at a real relationship. It almost felt like lying, it was lying in truth. The only Black Remus would ever love was a traitorous murderer. But he had relented and agreed to move into her new flat with her after the school year let out in just a few days time. He’d try, he’d try because she deserved it, and for some stupid reason she wanted him.
Lost in thought, Remus was almost right upon Snape and Harry before he realized it. His mind quickly catching up with the situation, he realized what Harry was holding. Determined to get it back, stricken at how on earth Harry had procured it, Remus apparently strung together the right combination of words to free the map from Snape’s clutches, and dragged Harry back to his office.
Blinking blankly, Remus tried to internalize what Harry was saying. The map, it didn’t lie. It just didn’t. Yet Harry claimed to see Peter’s name. It just wasn’t possible, he had to be mistaken. Wasn’t there a Peter Patterson in Hufflepuff? Surely Harry was just tired and misread the map. He stewed on this thought, not wanting to know one way or another. Some things were easier not knowing, not having to face the truth, not having to face the disappointment of unsubstantiated hope.
June 6th 1994
It didn’t take long for Remus’ resolve to crack. Laying the parchment flat on his desk, he performed a locator spell. Just to be safe , he told himself. It’ll come up blank, Peter’s dead. Siri... he killed Peter. Murdered him. Peter’s dead. “Homenum Reperire Peter Pettigrew” Remus cast, voice cracking, barely louder than a whisper. The map was still for a moment, his stomach sinking, confirming what he’d already known to be true, Peter was dead. But then, it started to flutter, flaps opening and shutting, like Remus had seen it do so many times before when searching for a fellow marauder or pranking victim, fluttering and opening and flipping, trying to locate the object of the spell. Finally, it settled. Remus’ blood turned to ice in his veins.
Dashing across the grounds were five distinct names. Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Peter Pettigrew, and him.
Remus paused, only for a moment. It felt like this puzzle he’d been working on for over a decade finally made sense, the pieces floating into place. All at once, the reality of the situation was crystal clear. He was innocent, he had to be. It must have been Peter, that was the only answer. Not wanting to waste another second, Remus sprinted as fast as he could out of his rooms, out of the castle, and hopefully, towards what he felt in his bones to be the truth. A large goblet of steaming potion was left, forgotten, on his desk next to the incriminating map.
Blasting open the door to the shack, Remus quickly scanned the room, eyes landing on the only thing that mattered, wild black curls, smokey grey eyes, him.
A worn, but hopeful voice cut through the children shouting upon his entrance, “Remus?” it softly reached out. Hesitating only for a single heartbeat, Remus threw himself into the arms of his friend, his confidant, his lover, and the only person his soul would ever truly love. Sirius. Nothing else mattered. He was home.
July 9th, 1996
“Ah, Nymphadora, dear, come meet our hosts” Remus heard the old Headmaster bellow in greeting. He’d been waiting for this moment, unsure how things would play out. Striding into the kitchen, Dumbledore began another round of introductions. “Dear you remember your cousin, Sirius. This is his paramour, Mr. Remus Lupin, and here we have Arthur and Molly Weasley…” he trailed off. Dora and Sirius exchanged a good natured embrace before she turned her attention towards Remus. Reaching his hand out to grasp her proffered palm, Remus finally allowed his eyes to meet hers, now honey brown radiating a sharp, penetrating glare, framed by her signature pink pixie cut.
“Mr. Lupin, pleasure to meet you…”