Chapter Text
In a royal setting;
where purebloods are highly looked up upon, and where muggleborns and half-bloods are seen as impure and incapable of high titles;
a place where roles and biases are crowned upon who held the most power, whilst others yearn for even scrapes of their glory as they crawl blindly around in the darkness, in a foggy, unfair realm we call the earth.
They were parted into three ways, like a triangle; royal, middle-class, and impoverished; a clear representation of biased choices masked with superiority and a little blackmail.
Royals are on the top of our little triangle. People obviously kiss their ass and glory upon the ground they walk, all just for a scrape of glory and even just a mere glance from these—oh so glorious—jests of royalty; pureblood heir.
Middle-classes are in the equidistant center; Not exactly lavish though not exactly impoverished. Wood cabins, cramped hotels, not even an experience with a room of air conditioning; though, they were not exactly struggling; they have food on their tables and company whenever—whatever—no matter where or when (If you have an approachable aspect). Blessed are the middle classes; the half-bloods.
Whilst the impoverished is a struggle often looked under; A situation that always made the room feel heavy with tension at the subject; Where they rent and use scraps; though a handful climbs their way to royalty—
(Purebloods banish, tittle-tattle, or downright be crude and vulgar to the aforementioned because they firmly place faith in the ardent fact that “A mud blood does not deserve a place in a palace,” With this petty play, most lower classes who climbed up to royalty either deal with it, or fall into a concerning spiral to depression until they get either assasinated or fall dead by natural causes.)
Remus was a half-blood; his mother, Hope, was a muggle, whilst his father, John, was a wizard. In our dear Remus’ life, he grew up in a decent, shabby cabin around a rather unpopulated part of town; Though surrounded by empty housing, wildlife, and weirdly, a lavish, expensive school neighboring just besides them. Usually, his family went out for either berries or flowers, and if they were lucky; money and meat.
Remus often went on about wanting to go help hunt for either fruit or berries, but the couple usually only go as pairs, coming home after three hours with a basket plentiful of livestock and produce, their clothes mussed and dirty, and their hair ruffled and slightly flyaway. Remus didn’t mind;
In fact, he actually found it somewhat cool in a way, to be responsible enough to go through the struggles of making your own food from scratch.
When they were gone, Remus juggled tasks just to be entertained enough, enough to not take a nap. He hated the feeling of waking up with a foul taste in his mouth, hated the way his stomach was growling and practically empty when he woke up, and he hated the fact that despite how long he slept, he still woke up exhausted and sleep-groggy.
Activities that keep him awake range from reading, looking out the window, humming, singing (albeit rarely), eating, looking around the house, and writing.
His usual pacing around every day made him memorize every nook and cranny, every small space, every gap, every imperfection, and the designs of each tapestry on the wall. He knew the house better than anyone; and he wore it with pride. Though very familiar with the house; there was one he never ventured upon;
the locked front door, where he awaits for his parents, awaits for the woven basket overfilling with berries.
Because of his usual pacing and silency, he developed an independent personality, often declining help and always figuring out his problems by himself. He grew pretty distant and closed off as he grew, because he had been used to the peace when his parents were away, and often found it distressing and annoying in his parent's usual camaraderie.
And when he didn't like something? He would suck it up, push it to the back of his head, and flash a smile that barely reached his eyes.
* * *
Remus usually ate in tranquil and peace with his family, light chatter here and there and soft clinks from the tableware to the ceramic plates (Remus always gets the pretty ones with floral designs), and they usually talked about recent news or changes around the neighborhood.
Remus had grown to be used to the loneliness in the cabin after years and years of solidarity, but he never turned down a good adventure. He still longed for contact if the outside forest, maybe even meet someone from the school next to the cabin, but no. Pointless reveries only serve as distractions.
In the tender age of ten, Remus was eating dinner quietly with his family, Hope and John tired and restless as they ate. They had been under huge pressure after the sudden shift of market prices,
It was becoming higher and higher, the market demand. It was unfair for people with unlimited sources, Remus thought. If people hated middle and low classes, why not give them jobs and lower the price rate, so they can atleast live like normal human beings?
After a beat of silence, and static snow from the radio, John spoke up.
" Remus, how about we take you hunting tomorrow? " Remus' father's rough, exhausted voice murmured.
Remus nodded, and out a sigh of relief came from his mom's mouth. He hadn't understood why, because he was alright here. Why the sudden change?
He hadn't minded, he was actually excited. He collected the dirty plates, washed them, hung them on the counter to dry, and he can hardly sleep in his cot due to his sheer ecstasy by the thought of contact with the outside world.
He didn't need to wake up when he was already wide awake. He sat up, drank some water, and dressed up. He washed his face with a soft rag, and he sat on his seat of the table, waiting for his parents to awake.
He opened geological and economic books to stuff as much information about the outside world there is in his head. When he heard the stairs creak, he closed the book with out dog-earing it, and stood up, to see his parents in outside gear, with soft smiles on their lips.
John Lupin went first and opened the door, waiting for the two to follow him out. When they reached the forest, it was bigger and better than the pictures in the books Remus read. It was lush green, covered in wildlife of all sorts, pleasant and unpleasant.
Remus spotted berries he was familliar with, and other unripe fruits he read about. It was sour when he tasted some, it was hard when he tried to open the shell. He ended up looking for another bush to find berries, or more interesting bugs and flower species.
Remus walked straight to a bush with red fruits that were already falling off its branches, and picke—
A shrill cry that sounded horridly close to his mother's voice echoed behind him. Remus turned around, to see green, and his parents out of sight.
He stilled, panicking and internally fighting fear altogether. He couldn't move, couldn't think properly, and tears pricked the corners of his eyes when he felt warm air brush his nape.
Metal and iron filled his senses, along with another;
Danger.
Though he was glued to his feet, barely breathing, as his heartbeat was all he can hear; he forgot where he was, the basket slipped from his grip, all he can feel was the sharp pain blooming from the back of his head, the feel of claws digging in his shirt, pulling him, and the horrid, unfamiliar taste of metal emerging from the back of his mouth, his blurry vision crisscrossing the distant sunlight as he feels a sharp force stab through his hip, a scream bubbling at his throat;
nevertheless, his body ached everywhere and his nerves were on fire and all he can smell is musk, and musk, and iron, and iron,
His body was aching;
All he wanted was warmth and safety;
to be bandaged and helped up, but all he felt was cold air, pain, ants, dirt, pain, discomfort, fear, and pain.
He awoke with a stabbing pain at the back of his head and a very sore throat, and puffy, irritated eyes after weeping with stacking pain.
Upon regaining his senses, he feels the blood and chapped skin on his lips, a bitter taste of dirt and grime lingering on his tongue; And oh the agonizing feel of cold air brushing against the wound around his hip; tickling the gash and lapping up pain and fear on little Remus.
And after too much tormenting, mounting pain on the little boy;
Oh, there was only one pointless, useless option to turn to;
He screamed.
Yelled; sobbed, gasped, panted, felt the pain again, and howled with agonizing cries and slurred pleas; and stifled curses and prominent efforts, until the corners of his eyes were turning a concerning amount of blurry, until he saw spirals and circles;
until his vision was crisping at the edges, his voice fading into a breathless whimper as he submits to exhaustion and fear, hoping that later, he would wake up in his little cot next to his parents;
to hope that maybe this was all a dream, and that maybe, he just didn’t have enough rest.
His aftermost surmise prior to his falter?
“ The berries. I couldn't find any. "
Then his eyelids closed shut and the pain reduced subsequently.
...
—"My memory's kinda fuzzy. I don't think I can remember anything after that."
Even his own voice scared him. He knew why his voice was a little rough, and why his throat was always so achy whenever he gets nightmares; whenever he gets flashbacks of the forest, or to have little scenes flash through his recollections of being a youth.
; It was a because of him. It was all because he hurt himself. And now he cant seem to forgive himself now along with himself in the past.
—"That's okay, Remus. We don't have to continue if you don't want to. Alright?"
The nasal voice of the company next to him was comforting in a way. Her voice caressed Remus' senses until she harrumphed, bringing Remus back to the earth.
She raised her eyebrow at him and he looked away, biting his lower lip.
—"... Mkay."
Was all he answered. He closed his eyes and sighed drearily; ragdolling on the soft mattress below him until he heard her get up and walk away, her acrylic heels clacking echoing throughout the facility until it faded into a soft metronome tempo.
* * *
It was pretty obvious to state that;
Sirius, prince and heir of the Black family, was in vain anguish in terms with his family.
Because, if not, pray tell, why does he get dodgy in family topics? Why must he get an anxious feeling in his gut when a red envelope (His or not his,) stands out in the flurry of owls and mails made of parchment? In what conclusion can you draw out on why he still wakes up in cold sweat after a nightmare about his family?
He twists and turns in his bed, tears and sweat making his skin clammy and his shirt cling to his back, as the visualization of his household comes into mind;
The conceited smiled and jibe in their expressions as they made him feel feeble and helpless;
The way they punish without apologies and the jovial tone in their voices as they, once again, forced unwanted events in his life to occur and maybe, imprint on his brain irreversibly.
He awoke some nights, skin damp and body shaking, tears flowing with no sign of stopping, his throat dry as he gasps weakly, his fingers brushing over the skin of his neck, (and every inch of his body,) the feeling of hands or force still fresh in his mind, as he cowers in pain that was barely there.
This night, was different. Instead of looking back at his past in a distant, helpless perspective, (Usually in the foreground, like looking in a pensieve) he was reminiscing upon the recollection in the state of his past self;
recollecting how it felt to be yelled at, and to be poked and prodded and laughed upon, to reminisce about being hit, the looming shadow of his mother leering at him;
Remembering her cold, bony hands reaching out to grab at his throat, the feel of sharp nails digging in his skin and all he can process was pain and shouting and guilt—
Sirius wakes up in a gasp, tears and sweat coating his body and face once again. His thoughts were cut off by the sounds of shuffling students, shoes clacking and sheets ruffling.
He grumbles, the sound soft as his throat was aching and still very sore, as he opens his eyes, his gaze immediately landing to the lavish silver chandelier perched onto the high-rise ceiling. The candlelight on the chandelier was crisscrossed in his blurry vision, and he barely makes out his bed, curtains drew closed, as if that could separate him from the real world, and his silly little reverie;
Stupid and nonsensical. That's what it is.
He laid in bed, letting the background noise of chatter and machinery run around his pacing mind until his breathing relaxed, and until his muscles cool off. He blinked back tears before sitting up, drawing out a shaky sigh. He wiped away remnants of tears on his face with a balled fist.
He straightened up, rolling and testing his eyes, blinking away spots and easing the burning feel of every movement of his iris.
Torjus Pur, he thought to himself angrily, forcing himself up and grabbing the corners of his blanket to fold it neatly. Never forget that, Sirius. He scolded himself, remembering the way his mother yelled it everyday at his shaking figure; his body wracking with sobs and eyes aching from weeping.
He held the middle of the blanket under his chin whilst he hoisted the blanket wide-armed, extending the blanket under his arms like a wing. His thoughts were overwhelmed with self-depracating thoughts, each delightfully decorated with well-thought words and very colorful vocabulary.
One hand met the other to fold the blanket in half and he tilted the cloth in a 180 degree angle to fold it in half again; The usual steps, wide-armed, grasping one corner of the blanket, the middle juncture held by his chin for a stable fold, rinse and repeat until the blanket can no longer be supported by your chin.
Sirius was still too sleepy and too busy bullying himself internally to realize the fact that he had missed a corner falling while folding his blanket, so with a mad, short-tempered ten year old with close relations to magic, he took his wand, pointed it at the humble crumpled silk he called a blanket, mumbled an incantation that probably didn't even exist, and prayed that it would magically work out.
But of course, when you're really reckless, let your emotions win over reasonable arguments, and have close relations with magic, it's bound to implode. And implode did his blanket.
And oh, tell me, dear reader, if complex magic, silk blankets, and undergraduate tantrums fueled by rage usually mix together to make, well, a more cleaner way of fixing their bed?
No? Thought so.
Sirius groaned inwardly, and the curtains were immidiately drawn to the side, a worried James Potter peeking in the gap.
" Sirius? You alright, mate? " James asked softly. He knew how nightmares were. He knew how much Sirius hated it, and he knew how crabby and violent Sirius gets afterwards.
Sirius pointledly ignored him. He scowled at the concerned Peter at the edge of his bed, and began folding his blanket with more force than necessary. He threw the blanket on his pillow, and heaved himself off the bed, blinking back spots and spirals.
" I would like to tell you that I feel fantastic, thank you. " he responded with a hint of sheepish humor. He tested the waters, because you could never be sure with mother James.
James broke out into a big smile, and he went to throw a sharp remark at Sirius.
" Oh really? Because I don't think— "
James was cut off by agonizing cries of pain at the forest beside the school.
The next minute, people were flooding the window closest to the forest. Sirius and James and Peter pushed through the crowd and peeked through, and saw... Nothing.
Well actually, they did, after they saw Professor McGonagall yelling at someone out of sight while Professor Flitwick walked to school grounds with a boy's heavily bruised body in his arms.
Curious murmurs erupted as the two teachers dissapear from sight. Sirius, James, and Peter looked at each other nervously, faces screwed up in bitter detachment.
The gossip carried out strong, and when the dorms were unlocked, rows of students in neat lines walk orderly to the Cafeteria, each lost and buried in their deep wonder about the mysterious stranger that was mangled in the forest.
Sirius overheard assumptions about murderers, some about a traumatic injury, and some about the boy dropping from the sky. They couldn't prove any if these, because of the lack of information and sightings.
Sirius, James, and Peter sit in their usual seat at the middle, and when Peter set his tray down, they erupted into a mix of gossip, rumours, and lovely, colorful words about today's weather.
They talked while they had food in their mouths, and they stopped to listen when one was making a point. They kept giving that signature look of smug agreement whenever they had the same opinion about an issue.
All the murmurs and bustling sound of conversations and chaotic tranquility was cut short by microphone feedback. Professor McGonagall, the current headmistress, was clearing her throat for an announcement.
Rows and rows of sound died off one by one, until the last table was hushed into silence. When tranquility filled the cafeteria, the headmistress smiled, content, but her face hardened onto a serious expression as soon as her lips twitched upward.
She announced, in a loud, firm voice; " All outdoor activities and classes are to be postponed due to an... Unwanted occurence in the forest. "
Her voice trembled at the end. She regained her elegance and began once more, when she heard chatter at the back of the cafeteria start once more.
" All students must be in student supervision on these hours. We hope you understand. Thank you. "
She ended her announcement with a nod of her head, and walked back to the other teachers, pulling back the grand seat in the middle, the one reserved for the headmistress/master.
This only resurfaced more questions, and more rumours. Sirius wonders if the mystery boy knows how popular he was in the school.
But there was something nagging at the back of Sirius' head; The forest, their spot, their hangout, a sentimental place, banned from contact. Now that's shit.
Sirius grumbled and ate his porridge, comfortable silence enveloping the three. The giant bell atop the school tower rang deep dongs that echoed throughout the school. Breakfast was over, and they had a free period.
Except, Professor Anaelle wanted them to revise on books.
The three walked to the library, and as promised, under teacher supervision by Ma'am Anaelle. Sirius was miserably dragging himself to the library, James was talking about werewolf possibilities, while Peter countered James with scientific explanations.
When they reached the library, the smell of old books and wood flooded their senses, and Sirius sneezed at the dust he inhaled. Peter patted his back sympathetically.
" It smells like trees in here. " Sirius groaned.
" It's the closest we can get from the forest, " James shrugged.
" In a bad way, James. It clogs my arteries. " Sirius complained.
" Books only clog your arteries if you eat them. " Peter said, challenging.
" I couldn't. That's the equivalent of eating shit. " Sirius muttered before settling down on a seat, Peter and James following suit. Sirius stared out the window, and got an idea; He would skive class if he pretended to go to the restroom!
" Sirius? Sirius? Peter, I think Sirius' going insane! Grab the heaviest book you can find! " James said in mock-panic, and Peter got up automatically and grabbed the fattest Spanish-English dictionary on the stable.
This seemed to bring Sirius back to his senses, and he had to grab hold of Peter's wrist with all his wrath to prevent brain injury. (Siriusly. The book's spine was the size of his hand IN WIDTH!) and he excused himself to the restroom before his brain can get more damaged.
Luckily, Ma'am Anaelle was kind enough to let Sirius go without a second thought, Because she seemed to be very interested in the female librarian, Ma'am Rhyza. Sirius went out of the library, closed the door behind him, and looked out at the empty hallway. It was desolate, and no students were there. Just Sirius. This sent a fine thrill down his spine.
Sirius took off his shoes, held the inside of his shoes in between his index and middle finger, and padded along the hallways, making no sound. He walked thought the hallway he always used to sneak out, and opened the big window that doesn't rattle nor creak.
He rested two fingers at the crease of the window frame and slid it to open the clear pane of glass, and he knew where every camera was, what spots to avoid so he couldn't get caught from the windows, where all the hiding spots are, so on so on.
He threw his shoes out the window first, before himself. Slowly, he pulled out his head, then he was halfway out, then he jumped to get across. He grabbed his shoes and made a run to the forest.
He was sprinting; looking behind his shoulder, not looking in front of him, because who would be brave enough to go out in suck protocols? Half the doors and windows are creaky, and the school keep cameras that don't even work to scare off children.
There was nobody trailing behind him, a good, sure sign. He knows this isn't very prince-esque behavior, he knows he should be more disciplined, and more worried and brave to rule his kingdom;
But his parent's should've treated him better if they wanted him to follow them. Because until they do, he would keep silently protesting, no matter how severe the punisment may b—
His thoughts were cut short as he collides with something solid; It's not a student, none would be out. Not a professor, all would be teaching. Not a tree, nor a wall, nor any architecture, he knows this place well. So when he rebounded, dizzy and scared, he looked up to see someone unfamiliar.
Had he tried to throw a sharp remark, but his body had failed him immensely. He hadn't even recognized his own voice by the sheer dopiness in his tone.
" Ahem, ahem... And you are? "
***
Remus was peacefully walking at the school grounds. He was still moody from the events and still groggy from the medication. His hip was still gamny and his body felt stiff, but the breath of fresh air was something peaceful.
Remus staggered backwards as he feels a force on his torso, reigniting the pain that the painkillers were supposed mask. He hid a hiss of pain as he looked down at the stranger, probably a skivving student, dusting himself off.
" Ahem, ahem... And you are? " The distraught stranger said.
Remus felt annoyance prick at the back of his head. He fought the urge to roll his eyes.
" In medical confinement. " Remus said sardonically, sarcasm seeping in his words.
" You'll pay for the force and trauma you gave me on that collision. " He continued, raising his eye brows and his lips twitching upwards at the distressed stranger's face getting more and more crestfallen by the minute.
" I—You can do that! I'm a minor! " The smaller boy sputtered.
" I'm the prince of the Black heir! I'll... I'll... Sue you...! Oh Merlin, I can't,, " The boy trailed off.
Remus scoffed and nodded, though in reality, he was shocked. Of course he recognized those features; grey eyes, raven, wavy hair, lean stature. Of course it was Black heir. What else?
" Try me. I'd make the judges feel bad that I'm a crippled vegetable. " Remus challenged. He shifted his weight to the other foot.
The stranger grumbled some colorful, creative words that cannot be casually said in an argument. Remus raised an eyebrow. His hand subconsciously ghosted his chest, where the stranger had collided with.
" Go back to class. " Remus flatly said. And the stranger threw up two impolite fingers to Remus' face and walked away, grumbling. What an interesting, interesting interaction.
***
Sirius walked away, simmering frustration pricking the back of his head. He felt like shit and balls, all because of the bruised, scarred boy. He crawled back inside through the window and petulantly walked to the library.
His footsteps were heavy and his movements were frustrated as he sets himself down next to James. Siriusly, who dares to make the future king stutter and feel stupid?
He crossed his arms and pretended to read a book to distract himself, but he can't seem to understand a sentence he'd been reading for eight times. James spoke up first.
" And who had upset our dear Sirius Orion Black III? " He said in a tone of mock-anger, his lips twitching upwards.
" Your mother. " Sirius grumbled.
" Real mature, " James said as he rolled his eyes, an easy smile playing on his lips.
" Your book's upside down. " Peter accompanied. Sirius groaned and closed the book with a sharp thud.
" You need to tell me who's authorative enough to send you back to class. Whoever's done that never did it again! " James said in awe, and Sirius' resolve was cracking.
Sirius leaned closer after a beat of silence, dropping his crossed arms. The two immidiately leaned closer to take a listen.
" Okay, listen up, " Sirius mumbled, in a tone only the three of them can hear. He then retold the events, and as the two listened, simultaneously furrowing brows or nodding every once in a while.
The three sat in muttered conversations, whilst this mystery stranger that screamed his lungs out in the forest didn't know he was the talk of the town.