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Watching Remus transform never got easier and Sirius would certainly never forget listening to those groans that turned to yells that turned into primal, animal screams. Remus writhed on the ground, his bones snapping and reshaping themselves for minutes that felt longer than whole days. It was torturous and, Sirius reminded himself each time, it was even worse for Remus who was actually experiencing it. He was just an onlooker.
After all these years of joining Remus on full moons, Sirius knew precisely how long he could stay as himself before needing to change into Padfoot and he spent those last few moments as a human reassuring Remus as best as he could, though he never remembered what Sirius had said to him by the next day. He supposed the forgetting was a small mercy.
The evening was hot, unusual for Wales even in the summer months and Sirius felt a thin layer of sweat beading on his back. Apparating and finding a quiet area had been easy enough, there was no civilisation for miles out here, just endless trees and lakes to the west of Cardiff. Remus had regaled stories of his time camping near the lakes outside of Cardiff as a child and Sirius wished they could come under different circumstances, but returning to his home for anything other than werewolf-related business tended to be a sore subject for Remus. That was something Sirius could relate to, though in a slightly different way. He would never step foot back in Grimmauld Place if he could help it, and so far, he’d managed to avoid the house and the ghosts of his past that haunted him there.
For a moment or so after Remus had transformed, Sirius would always notice a sense of confusion, as though the wolf wasn’t quite sure how he’d arrived there. But after a beat he’d soak up his surroundings and bound up to Padfoot, sniffing him and remembering that this was a friend, an ally. Tonight, however, the wolf seemed more tentative than usual, crawling slowly towards the dog with his tail between its legs. Sirius wondered if the last few weeks of transformations with Greyback’s pack were affecting the wolf as much as it had affected Remus. It broke his heart a little.
Padfoot stood completely still, letting the wolf come to him and asserting that he wasn’t here to attack him. It seemed to work and after some cautiousness, the wolf nudged him playfully with his snout. Sirius began to bound around the nearby trees, letting the breeze sift through his fur and rubbing his back on the grass and mud. The wolf followed, mimicking his figure eights around the trunks and pausing every now and then to sniff an unfamiliar plant or animal trail. Sirius wasn’t sure exactly how long this went on— his sense of time always seemed thwarted in animagus form and it could have been five minutes or two hours for all he knew.
After a while, Remus paused, lifting himself onto his hind legs. The wolf’s slender body extending upwards towards the canopy of leaves, his head perfectly positioned under a stream of bright moonlight seeping through the gaps. Sirius watched on, he always found this part particularly enchanting, seeing the wolf– Remus, he reminded himself—in his most majestic, free and unencumbered form. The wolf tilted his head back and howled. Back at Hogwarts, Sirius had read books about so-called dark beasts and they’d always described a werewolf’s howl as utterly terrifying, but he couldn’t have disagreed more. It was perhaps the most hypnotic sound he’d ever heard and he couldn’t help himself from joining in, though Padfoot’s howl was much less powerful.
The pair darted around the woods some more, following the scent of a wild animal that Padfoot couldn’t quite identify and they never successfully tracked down. The fruitlessness of the hunt failed to disappoint the wolf who simply found new scent after new scent to track, getting distracted with every slight sound and sight. Padfoot, despite his energetic nature, struggled to keep up with the wolf’s seemingly endless ability to run and Sirius found himself feeling grateful for the short July night and the sight of the moon dipping below the horizon. The wolf began to slow down and followed Padfoot to a thick, secluded area of woodland where he collapsed to the ground, whining dejectedly. Sirius remained as Padfoot for a moment longer, just until the first signs of the transformation were underway. By the first crack of bone, Sirius was himself again, running to Remus’ side as his limbs snapped into place and long grey fur was replaced by pale, freckled skin that he knew so well. The wolf whimpers morphed into human cries and Sirius did the only thing he could do, and sat next to him, speaking softly.
“Well done, love. All done now, it’s all done. You did so well.” His voice was barely above a whisper and Remus probably couldn’t hear him yet anyway. But on the off-chance that he could, Sirius wasn’t going to let him think he was alone.
After a while, Remus grew silent and Sirius knew he had passed out, as was expected with the pain and fatigue of transforming. Sirius looked Remus over, he was a little beat-up, grazes on his legs and shoulders, and his wrist looked a bit crooked, but it was nothing some spells and rest couldn’t fix. All in all, it was a positive result and much better than how Sirius had found him the month before, in a bloody heap in the hallway after Remus had apparated home alone with a dislocated hip and torn up leg.
He took off his coat, placing it over Remus’ body so that he wouldn’t wake up completely exposed in the middle of nowhere, and settled himself on the ground, waiting for Remus to stir. He closed his eyes as the morning sun began to rise.
“Sirius.”
His eyes flashed open to meet Remus’.
“Hey, Lu. All done. How’d you feel?” Sirius leant over, placing the back of his hand on Remus’ forehead to check his temperature. He was practically on fire.
Remus just hummed something that Sirius understood to mean fine. At least as fine as he could be at this moment. He knelt forward, helping Remus to sit up slowly. Sirius undertook the process of getting Remus stood up in increments to avoid a spell of nausea, something they had learnt the hard way after one of their first moons together had ended with both of them covered in vomit. Once he was stood, Sirius pulled the coat around Remus’ shoulders and clung onto him tightly before apparating out of the woods.
They landed in their flat with a thud. Apparating with a barely-conscious second party was a tricky feat and Sirius considered them fortunate to still be stood up at all. He led Remus into the bedroom, grateful for the lack of stairs in their flat, and sat him on the bed where Remus promptly fell backwards, closing his eyes and falling asleep. Sirius would have liked to ask him some questions before he slept, Where does it hurt most? Are you hungry? Thirsty? Nauseous? but it was evident that he just needed rest for now. Sirius moved into the bathroom, wetting a soft flannel with warm water and disinfectant and returning to the bedroom to gently wipe the grazes and drying blood. He could use a cleansing spell, but Sirius liked the tangible act of cleaning the wounds, it made it feel real and, most importantly, gave him the opportunity to care for Remus without the boy trying to hide himself away in embarrassment.
Sirius finished up and pulled the duvet over him. He tore off his own sweaty clothes, dumping them on the floor and climbing into bed next to Remus, repositioning his boyfriend’s head to lay in the crook of his arm by his chest. He closed his own eyes, and listened to Remus’ deep breaths.
He’s breathing, he survived another moon. He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive.
A rush of relief finally hit him and he exhaled, expelling the stresses and anxieties of the last twenty four hours. It really never did get any easier. But for now, they were both alive, both mostly unharmed and both together. Lying in their bed, Remus’ head resting on Sirius’ chest as they slept.