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The past couple of years had not been easy, to say the least. 85% of students that graduated hogwarts immediately fell into ranks, classmates on both sides of this horrible blood war. People you thought you knew turned out to be the exact opposite of what you expected, so losing friends was an experience many of us knew all too well. You were lucky if you lost your friends that way rather than the more fatal way, the kind that reminded you of mortality and pushed you to keep fighting until this war was won.
I was fortunate enough to make friends, however. The order of the phoenix was a tight knit group, and took everyone in as blood. Maybe not Alastor Moody, but even some of the tougher members would open up to you eventually. I found my crowd in the self-proclaimed “marauders”, a surprise for myself based on what I remembered of them in school. We’d never crossed paths, but now that I was one of their own, I regretted that fact immensely. Lily Evans, James Potter, and myself seemed to be the only three that could create a good mix of optimism amongst the outrageous amount of bad. We spoke a lot of her pregnancy and how cute the toddling little tike would be, but also shared the latest books we’d read and our recommendations. That's how I met Remus.
Everything moves faster in a war. Life, the stages of grief, all the sad stuff. But the good stuff moves quicker, too. Good stuff like relationships. James and Lily were married and were having a baby, and for most hardly 20 year olds, it’d be too soon, but it felt right these days. The same applied for how quickly Remus and I became comfortable with one another. After only a few months, we’d moved in together, glad to have our one happy thing surrounding us when we were not dealing with all the sadness and fear.
It became a rule under our roof to have one night a week to ignore everything happening outside of the walls. It was flexible, there were just some weeks that the overwhelming anxiety could not be tamed and shoved aside, and those kinds of weeks we’d just spend the night talking about it shamelessly rather than playing pretend. In the recent months, though, it seemed those kinds of weeks were happening more and more frequently. They happened more often and our talks became more scarce. Silence became increasingly pungent. It was a living hell. We were being completely consumed by the war and it was destroying us both as individuals and as a couple. I decided I had to put a stop to it, and while I couldn't force Remus to participate, I could do things for my own mental health.
There was a drizzle pouring steadily out the window. The sun peeked out from the clouds just enough so it wasn't a completely dreadful day. It was quiet and peaceful aside from the bugs that appreciated the warm weather, my favourite kind of setting. I dug in one of the closets in our home, in search of the mahogany piece passed down to me from my grandfather. It was buried beneath sweaters and stacks of newspapers and a layer of dust that must've been a metre thick. Nonetheless, I pulled out the guitar to give it a nice bath and she was good as new. The search also helped me find a poncho from years back, which I delightfully slid over my head before making my way to the back porch. It took a moment to find my finger placements again, getting into the rhythm and trying to remember the chord progressions of my grandfather's favourite diddy. The strings needed a good tuning, but I've always enjoyed that part. I drank straight from the bottle of whisky I’d carried along with me and got busy strumming, letting loose and focusing on happier times.
For the first couple of hours, I was playing for an audience of mosquitoes (who seemed to love my grandfather's song, might I add). I wasn't sure of how long I’d been outside considering how much of the bottle I'd completed and the enjoyment I was finally experiencing, but soon enough Remus joined me outside and I knew it was about time to give my fingers a rest.
“Welcome home.” I mentioned while beginning to tend to my forming calluses while I greeted my partner. “Glad to see you back all in one piece.”
“Been a while since you played.”
“Been a while since I've done a lot of things. We should talk about that.”
Remus groans, trying to turn as if he was going to head inside, but I was able to stop him and sit him back down. He tried to make an argument about me being pissed and not thinking clearly, or about being tired and not wanting to deal with anything right now, or how he was too focused on a task for the order. I wasn't having any of it, and he caught onto that fact quick enough.
“Alright, say your piece.” He relented, opening the floor to me.
“We made a promise that we were going to forget about the war some-”
“That was when the war wasn't so bloody.”
“Firstly, I'd appreciate it if you don't interrupt me.” I replied sternly, accepting Remus's raising of his hands as an apology before continuing. “Secondly, it's because the war has gotten so awful that it's even more important to take care of ourselves. We've hardly said a word to each other in weeks. I missed you, and I missed my guitar, and I'm sure you've got things you miss.”
I waited and waited for a response. He didn't seem like he was ever going to comply and admit that he may feel the same way about this kind of thing. He looked everywhere but my face- his hands, the ground, the sky, my guitar. After a few minutes, I took the conversation back into my own hands.
“I think it would be really good for us to go back to having some days where we just focus on ourselves. I know it's harder this time around, but I can't help but feel that I'm losing you to the war. And if I lose you, then it's gonna be no time before I lose myself, too, and I really like myself right now. I really like us.” I've got his attention now, I can see. “Can we just give it a try? Please?”
“...I don't have anything to do on Saturday morning.” he mentions with a small smile approaching his cheeks. When he stands up to leave this time, I allow it, flashing him a smile on his way to the door. “And for the record,” he turns to face me before slipping into the kitchen, “I really like you right now, too.”
With the agreement made earlier in the week, I'm more than thrilled to wake up next to Remus on Saturday morning. He's all too calm when he's asleep, a very nice sight these days. I'm very careful rolling out of bed, making sure I dont wake him in the process. I do some light makeup for the day and start on a breakfast for the two of us. In days past, Remus and I would try to make time to have breakfast together, so it felt extra special to make it today. That was all before Remus started getting assigned night patrols and I worked mainly during the day. Even when it wasn't anything fancy for a meal, something like today's muffins, it was time that we got to spend together and that was the important part. I was reminded of that when Remus came down to meet me in the kitchen, swiping the flour off of my cheek.
“Mm, morning.” he yawns. “Smells good.”
“Strawberry muffins in the oven, almost ready to come out.” I reply, letting him in on what the fragrance was and wrapping my arms around his neck. “Figured we could eat a quick breakfast, slip into some clothes, and go check out a few of the new thrifts that have opened up in town.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
It was a good plan, too, in my opinion. Doing something we’ve always enjoyed felt safe, and seeing as I'd only just now gotten him to agree to it, I wasn't taking any risks. To remus’ credit, he did entertain the idea for a couple of hours. He was happy enough to wear something other than his dingy khakis he’d practically been living in for the past month and a half. He walked through 3 different shops with me, all a bust. I could see the enjoyment slipping away little by little as much as he tried to hide it.
“Oh look! This must be Benny Goodman's corset and pen.” I joked, making similar accusations about random items lying around that most definitely didn't belong in these second hand jungles. “There on the tag, even. Benny G.”
“Let me see.” Remus responds, plastering a fake smile across his face and trying to sound enthusiastic and curious. It was breaking my heart that I couldn't make this a better time for him. “I’m not seeing that anywhere, darling.”
“Okay, well, I may have made that up.”
“Not really anything of value around…maybe we should just head back home.”
“We can go do something else! Please- please don't make us go back home yet. I’ve just gotten you to myself.”
Before he gets the chance to groan and try to convince me otherwise, I throw ideas his way. Going out for a treat, seeing the park, something. I was determined to make this a decent date so he’d be willing to go again. I promised him long ago that I'd never give up.
“Please, Remus-” I plead, both hands settling on each of his shoulders and giving a small rub. “It can be whatever you want. Anything that will make you happy.”
“You're not going to want to-”
“No- if it makes you happy, it can't be that bad. Let's do it. Say the word, let's go.”
“Honestly, y/n. I think I'm just a bit tired. I just want to go home.”
It was a fair wish. I gave a valiant effort, and Remus tried to assure me the entire way home that he was happy and enjoyed his time. The words were comforting until I looked at him as he said them. He was lying to protect my feelings, as per usual. I just let him off to bed, cleaning up the dishes from breakfast and trying to entertain myself.
It's another 5 weeks before our schedules line up at all. The little bit of remus I see sinks deeper and deeper into his pain and suffering. He was feeling real low down to say the least. Lately, he's taken to blasting Elton John's Blue Moves album, arguably the saddest one. Who hasn't been there before? Derailing his own train further with music that enhances his feelings. I try to come around the hard way, hoping for a slightly better outcome than last time.
The war also happened to be making us poorer, I noticed. A nice outing was not in the cards, so I had to get a bit more inventive. I spent a little while carving around and scraping off mould from the bread in our pantry. Dip in the egg and cinnamon mixture, fry on each side. Plate with syrup. Just the way he liked it. I stacked the plate atop an absolutely ancient book my mother had gifted me, carefully making my way up the stairs to the bedroom. As expected, he was laying in bed, just staring up at the ceiling as I served him the french toast.
“Elton’s not joining us this morning?” I murmur, trying to break the silence but unsure if he was in a joking mood.
He gave a light thank you, giving the book cover a quick scan before putting it aside. I tried not to stare at him as he ate, but I didn't really know what to do with myself. I didn't want to leave him all by his lonesome, but sitting there felt incredibly awkward. There was nothing really to talk about. His hand patted my knee for a quick moment, startling me. It had been so long since he’d contacted any part of my body that the warmth was almost foreign.
“Well,” I swung my legs off the side of the bed, needing to shake how something so innocent made me jump, “I’m going out to the back porch. James gave me some mary jane last night, think i'll go roll it up.”
I didn't give Remus time to respond, and I wasn't sure myself if the explanation was an open invitation or not. His presence was just so….different…now that he'd been struggling the way he had. I know it isn't fair to blame him for it, but that doesn't make it any easier to work with. All the conversation I'd heard from him for months had been complaint after complaint, only talking about everything that's been taken from us and how terrible everything was. Not to say that he was wrong about it, because he wasn't, but Merlin did it drive me up a wall. I took the anger out on the herb, grinding it to nearly powder. I was halfway done rolling the joint when I heard the back door slide open, Remus taking the time to join me outdoors. I thought surely he’d have something to say about me still getting stoned and how his mother would be appalled, but instead he held out his lighter for me.
“Have you heard about Frank? He-”
“Dont.” I interrupt, more aggravated than I would normally speak to Remus. “I really, really am not in the mood right now to talk about that fucking war.”
I could feel his stare diminish into a squint, disapproval and wonder emitting from him and on to me. I hoped Remus would take the hint and leave it alone, but evidently he was incapable of that.
“I just thought you’d like to know is all.”
“Yeah. I know. I heard. All I ever hear these days is how awful everything and everyone is.” I huffed again.
“Y/n, you're being unreasonably angry right now.”
Fighting words, if you ask me. Maybe it's time for a fight though. I've kept up my optimism for too long, I was at a breaking point. I stand from the lounger and feel the anger rise with me, standing over Remus in his chair.
“Am I? Is it unreasonable to be frustrated about it all? And about you? Go on, tell me how it's unreasonable for me to be upset that all the happiness is being sucked from my life like a never ending black hole.”
“And is that my fault? Are you trying to insinuate that your lack of joy is somehow my responsibility?” Remus shouts back, though he stays seated and allows me to keep my vantage point.
“A little bit, yeah. It is your fault in some ways.”
“I can't possibly be to blame for the war, y/n.”
“Godric, Remus. We get along! So what if right now everythings wrong? You could make some effort to not bring all the depression and anger and sorrow home, you know!”
“What are you even talking about?”
At this point, he does stand from his chair, and I cower back down onto the lounger. I take another hit, trying to hold back the angry tears that have bubbled to the surface. I can feel in my throat that if I continue, my rage will turn to crying and I won't be able to choke out my feelings. I don't want him to think he's won this or whatever, it was crucial to me that I could finally voice it all. I blow out the smoke and inhale a deep breath.
“I try…so hard.” I start slowly, exhaling in the middle of the phrase. “I have done everything in my power to distract you for a minute. To have the Remus I fell in love with back. I do everything that used to make you happy, because I miss the two of us just being happy together. And all of it….you just take all of it for granted. I have to fight for a thank you, and I can't even begin to remember the last time any of it awarded me a smile. You just aren't happy with anything I come up with.”
“Jeez, is that what this is about? Y/n, everything you do makes me happy.”
“Then why the hell are you so sad?”
I tap the tip of the joint to smother the flame, saving it for another time. Remus reaches out for my hand, but I pull it away and head back in through the house, out the front door, asking him not to follow me. I was exhausted. Everything was so tiring. The war, the energy in the house, my feelings. I let my feet take me wherever they want to, going at a full sprint and ending up at a park, practically falling down sobbing when my legs had finally slowed. The ruins of a once lovely town in front of me, torn apart by evil. There was no escape from it, as much as I tried to fool myself that there was. All the songs and bubble baths and breakfasts in the world couldn't cover up this damage, and Remus came to that realisation long before I did. The tears are nonstop, I can't breathe and I feel like hitting something. Someone, maybe.
“I just need it all to stop.” I say to no one, just allowing it to fall out of my mouth and come off of my chest. I've sent myself into a rant, I must look like a crazy person to passers by as I monologue to the open air. “Everything needs to slow down. I can't do it. I'm not made for this. I can't do it, I can't do it, I can't do it. It has to stop. I can’t feel this way anymore.”
“I’m sorry, my love. I’m so sorry.” I hear the docile tones of Remus, who had clearly ignored my request to leave me alone. He ducks down next to me on the ground, wrapping both of his arms around my body tightly. The fact that it was providing me comfort only angered me, i wanted an excuse to finally allow myself to be upset and i was upset with him, so his soothing presence was hypocritical in my mind. Nonetheless, I leaned into his touch either way, accepting the way it made my breath slow some. “That's right, let it all out.”
He allows me to turn around and face him, still holding my body against his as my hand beats against his shoulder, my words indistinguishable. Remus’ can be made out, though, and it was nice to hear him say such uplifting things for once.
“I know. You're going to get through it just fine, y/n. You've been so strong, and I'm sorry I didn't appreciate you the way I should've. You were right. I'm ready to be the strong one now, though. We're going to get through this together, darling.”
“I hate it here.” I moan, my knees buckling beneath me and causing my body to drag downwards against Remus’. “I don't want to be here anymore.” I cry some more, another wave of anguish taking hold of my body, holding me under so I can't breathe.
I flow in and out of consciousness, the inevitable anxiety attack that's been building for months finally breaking free. Each time I come back to, I can hear more affirmations leaving remus’ lips, though it sounds as though I'm underwater. My vision is a blur and sounds are muffled and in slow motion. I'd never felt this way before, but when I'm finally completely lucid, I realise Remus must've felt this way hundreds of times. He knew exactly what to do, myself waking up on the couch in our little cottage, legs elevated and a damp cloth to my forehead. Remus hums a tune as he pats the cloth around my face, not staying in one spot for too long and not looking at all nervous about it when I open my eyes.
“H-” I barely start before Remus interrupts.
“No, no speaking. Just rest.” he insists, using his free hand to pet back my hair. “You've been needing to do that for a while, huh?”
I affirm his question with a slight nod. He shushes me again though i've made no noise, and while this may normally annoy me, I found it quite nice this time around. Remus doesn't allow me to move for nearly 10 minutes after I arose, which was fair considering how many times I slipped in and out of lucidity. All the while, he cooled me with the cloth and continued speaking to me.
“I wanted to apologise to you. It’s not fair of me to ignore your needs just because I'm upset. I’ve not been good to you in that way, and I'm sorry. I see now that you've been bottling a lot up because I haven't given you an outlet to express anything and I really, really don't want you to go through what happened today again. Alright, c’mere-” he stops halfway through his apology, assisting me in moving my legs from the arm of the sofa and sitting up. He quickly shuffles into the space next to me, giving me a spot to fall in case I become dizzy again. “- like i was saying, you were right…about needing to escape or talk or whatever it is. I can't leave you in the dark anymore. So if it makes you happy…it cant be that bad. You understand what i'm trying to say, love?”
“Yeah.” I confirm with him, pushing myself underneath his arm and forcing the physical touch that felt so foreign this morning to feel like home once more. “Let's not talk about it right now, though?”
“Whatever makes you happy.”