Chapter Text
I felt I hadn’t slept long when I woke, feeling pulled toward the window by an unnamed force.
I took my wand smoothly from the nightstand and crept across the room, ignoring my sore and twitching leg muscles.
My eyes scanned the clearing below, squinting through the haze of the greying dawn.
I saw nothing out of the ordinary until someone emerged slowly from the dark tree line, hunched and muddied. The man wore no clothes and long hair obscured his face. My hand tightened around my wand, though I found myself frozen by the surreal image.
The man managed a few steps before falling to his knees. He raised his right hand, a silvery-blue wisp flowing from his palm towards the cabin.
An incorporeal yet clearly visible Patronus, conjured in a state of distress, without a wand…
Lupin.
I knew he’d been working with a pack of lycanthropes in southern France for the past, what was it, four months?
Four months, four moons.
I realized then that this was the morning after the full. I realized he wasn’t covered in mud, but blood.
Lupin swayed, hugging himself. He collapsed forward just as the cabin door burst open.
A medical status orb sped to his side ahead of the resident Healer, still dressed in her bedclothes. The sphere glowed orange for the briefest moment before shifting to blue, signaling a loss of consciousness.
I turned from the window, working to release the tension in my jaw and shoulders.
I returned to bed thinking about bones breaking, how it might feel to periodically lose your mind. Cool gratitude provided some comfort, knowing that I could at least now provide the Wolfsbane to Lupin again.
Nevertheless, I drifted off to the repeating image of the diagnostic orb switching tone to reveal its cruel, cold light.
I slept long, still weakened physically and magically from the Dark Lord’s frustration at the brevity of my latest report on the Order’s movements.
I made my way to the kitchen for a late lunch. As I struggled to make myself care about the biased drivel now masquerading as The Daily Prophet, I saw someone enter the room from my peripheral.
I’d been expecting the medic and was quite shocked to see it was Lupin. If he saw me as he came in, he didn’t show it.
He looked like death warmed over, but was freshly showered, jaw reddened slightly from a fresh shave. Butterfly bandages pulled a cut closed on his brow and under his tightly bound robe thick gauze peeked out from one side of his neck.
He bypassed the tea kettle and poured himself a coffee, a low Accio bringing the sugar canister into his hand. I reined in my jealousy with the recollection that most werewolves are not trained in magic, making it a lucky thing Lupin had that skill to fall back on during his mission. He most likely had to do without his wand to better assimilate to the group. I could hardly imagine how maddening that must have felt.
“It’s good to see you,” Lupin said, glancing at me as he stirred his drink.
As I looked at him, there in his bare feet, with those tired brown eyes and familiar scars, I realized I’d actually missed this man, and I hadn’t the will to disguise the truth.
“Likewise, Lupin.”
A look of surprise made him look younger a moment before he walked past the small kitchen island to sit across from me. I realized I couldn’t leave the conversation on a note such as that.
“It appears you haven’t gone wild in your time away.”
A sad half-smile.
“No, though I daresay that may have helped my cause in the end.”
A soft silence settled between us as he breathed in the scent of his coffee, blew on it to take that careful first sip.
I’d finished my meal but did not want to leave. I was held in my seat by the sight of Lupin so vulnerable, so unashamed. Perhaps most striking was simply the fact that he was alone. No clinging children, no idiot Black. It seemed a certain gravity had re-established itself, one I recalled from our school days, felt at the rare glimpse of Lupin in the corridor or library by himself.
I grit my teeth at this unwelcome nostalgia. Surely this mode of thinking must have been an effect of the recent Crucio curses I’d withstood.
I took a drink of my water, returning the cup to the table with a trembling to my hand I might have been able to hide, but inexplicably chose not to.
“It’s strange,” Lupin started, returning his own cup to the table. “I don’t understand how, but with the pack I could remember the moons better than I ever have without the Wolfsbane.”
He frowned, looking into the middle distance.
“I was more present, but I still had no control. … If given the choice, I think I’d rather be oblivious.”
I nodded, imagining an Imperius curse, except one conjured by an animal. The thought made me nauseous.
“I thought I was being careful,” he went on, brows knitting together. “But I must have become too comfortable. The Alpha saw me as a threat. Even if unconsciously, a wolf challenging an Alpha’s authority is sure to be met with teeth.”
He took a long sip of his drink.
“He’s older by a fair margin… but larger, more accustomed to fighting.”
He closed his eyes a moment, arm moving to rest against his abdomen.
“Is it time for your next pain relief potion?” I said.
He shook his head.
“I took some not long ago. I go lightly with them when I can, as I’ve developed quite a tolerance to a lot of formulas. The most common one became ineffective when we were still in school.”
“Is that right?” I said, unable to conceal my surprise.
“Yes, well, I’ve carried the curse since I was four. Even if my father had been more skilled in potions, my developing a tolerance hadn’t been a concern at the time, as I’m sure you can imagine.”
Indeed, I could imagine, and I hated it. A sick combination of cold sympathy and burning respect washed over me at this revelation, so easily stated. Four years old.
How did he manage that? How had he kept going?
Remus rubbed at his eyes.
“What I could really use is some Dreamless Sleep,” he said.
I made myself pause, to not sound too eager.
“I have a spare dose I can give you. It’s put away in my room.”
“Oh? I would really appreciate that.”
A real smile.
I stood, seeing that Lupin was finished with his drink. I motioned that he should follow me even as my heart seemed to be pushing quickly up my throat.
I retrieved the extra vial from my bedside drawer and handed it to Lupin, who studied it closely.
“This isn’t the usual color," he remarked.
“You’re not the only one who’s developed a tolerance.”
I hadn’t meant to say it, and my voice sounded too soft, but somehow I wasn’t ashamed, only relieved.
Lupin met my eyes for a long moment. He swallowed visibly, glancing away.
“It really is good to see you,” he said.
The scent of healing ointment called me to realize how close he was standing. I stepped away and turned toward the window, mind and body at odds.
“There’s something strange about this place, perhaps the quiet of it, I’m not sure—” I started, cursing my uneasy tone.
Lupin hummed.
“I know what you mean. It’s like an island far removed from… from everything. I like it here, as much as one can, given the circumstances.”
“Yes, it’s actually quite nice,” I said, mirroring his low tone.
I stared hard at the dust motes hovering in the sun, as if like tea leaves they could relay some message, give me some guidance.
“I understand, now, why you keep your hair in your face,” Lupin said.
I turned to see him sat on the end of my bed.
“Why…?”
“It feels safer.”
A beat passed, and as if watching from outside my body, I saw myself purposely cross the few paces to the bed. Lupin stood, eyes asking a cautious question.
“You should keep yours long,” I said.
I reached out to ease the band out of his hair. He allowed it, even leaned subtly into my hand.
My breath came short. I suddenly felt much younger, stronger. I buried my hand in his hair, coarse from the weather, coarse with gray.
Time seemed to skip forward a moment, and we were kissing, soft and careful. Mouth to jawline and back to mouth, deeper.
He pulled slowly away.
“Severus, I… I’m too tired. I couldn’t—”
My heart leapt at the regret in his voice. That he wanted more of me truly felt a miracle.
“We can just rest,” I said, voice still sounding foreign.
Lupin’s eyes softened, already looking heavy. He stepped to the side, hand moving down past my elbow to so gently, so briefly grip my forearm.
A spark so near the Dark Mark, it melted the marrow in my bones.