Chapter Text
October, 1977
Remus
The moon was rising, peeking silver from behind the thick canopy of trees. Although he wouldn’t be forced to change until it reached its height, he could feel the wolf under his skin. Stretching. Scratching. Crawling with anticipation. To run, to hunt, to fight, to be free. Remus rolled his neck back, feeling the bones pop and his muscles crack with the movement. The wolf was close, his skin felt so tight, so hot. Feeling more restless than usual, he paused to light a cigarette with shaking hands. He pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes and checked the sky. Fuck, he thought, we’re not even close to the clearing yet. A sharp pain ripped through his abdomen, and he imagined the creature inside him as a physical thing, ready to tear through his flesh and burst forth in some demented parody of birth. He envied the painless transformations of his friends, and it warred with the gratitude he felt for them. The devotion they showed him, learning how to transform into animals, simply to stay with him during his monthly ordeal…he didn’t know what he had done to deserve such loyalty. It made his guilt worse, feeling resentful of their healthy bodies as pain wracked his own. Sometimes, in the days leading up to the full moon, as his muscles tightened and his very bones ached, he felt he hated them. Laughing, eating, playing. Every carefree and effortless action sent spikes of jealousy through him, making him hate himself, sure in the knowledge that if his friends knew the thoughts that sometimes plagued him, he would lose them forever. If they knew how often jealousy plagued him, jealous of their carefree behavior, their pain-free bodies, their good looks, unlike his own damaged body, crisscrossed with self-inflicted scars. More than anything, though, he hated his wolf, the beast forced onto him as an innocent child, stealing his innocence in the most brutal of ways and forever altering him. He would take a knife and carve it from his chest, if only such a thing were possible. Sometimes he dreamed of it, opening his chest and plucking out the feral beast that slumbered inside him until the full moon rose.
His friend Sirius, unironically humming “Moonage Daydream” as they walked, paused beside him and lit his own cigarette. “What’re we exploring tonight?” He said casually, oblivious to Remus’s distress. The moon, a cruel spotlight, illuminated the silvery smoke curling from Sirius's cigarette, and Remus focus for a moment on the twirling ribbon of smoke disappearing in the sky. Sirius leaned casually on an ancient tree, the red cherry of his cigarette casting light and shadow on his face, catching the sharp angles of his jawline, the rebellious curl of his dark hair. Remus felt a familiar ache in his chest, a mixture of admiration and a deep, unsettling longing. It wasn't just Sirius's undeniable beauty; it was the way he carried himself, a reckless abandon that seemed both terrifying and alluring. Tonight, however, the usual captivating aura was edged with something else – a wild, desperate energy that mirrored the turmoil brewing within Remus himself. He wanted to grab Sirius, shake him, warn him…but of what? What was so different tonight? I suppose to them it must seem like any other full moon, he thought bitterly. How could he tell them that something was wrong tonight? That the air seemed to crackle with something he couldn’t name, that had his wolf clawing at his throat this early in the night? He’d scare them, for something he couldn’t even explain.
“Interesting set of ruins two miles south of the shack.” James suggests, catching up to them. "Might be fun." He snatched the cigarette from Sirius’s mouth and took a drag with a cheeky wink, blowing the smoke in Peter’s face as their slowest friend reached them. He tossed his head back, a cascade of unruly black hair catching the moonlight, and Remus felt the familiar pang of admiration. It was undeniable; James was captivating. His charisma was a force of nature, a tangible energy that seemed to draw everyone – except maybe Lily, his perpetually out-of-reach-crush – into his orbit. Remus himself felt the pull, the magnetic attraction of James's personality, but it was a different kind of pull than the one he felt towards Sirius.
Everything felt different with Sirius. A friendship that went beyond what he expected from a friend, a bond that transcended brotherhood. It wasn't just admiration; it was something deeper, a gravitational pull that defied logic and reason. Where James's charm was a bright, dazzling sun, Sirius was a midnight storm, wild and unpredictable. Yet underneath his reckless energy was a solid comfort, a loyal companionship that never faltered. With Sirius, Remus felt safe, understood, truly seen. He could be himself, quiet, pensive, moody, and Sirius wouldn't judge. He'd simply offer a knowing grin and a comforting hand on his shoulder. James, on the other hand, would likely try to cheer him up with a terrible joke or a boisterous game of Exploding Snap, which, while appreciated, wasn't the same.
“Two miles?” Peter whined, coughing and waving his hand in the air. “I can’t keep up, I’m too small when I’m changed.” Peter, despite his short legs and extra poundage he incessantly complained about, moved with surprising agility. It made sense that his inner creature was something small but strong, able to run surprisingly fast along the narrowest of tracks; to move with grace over any obstacle. He was, undeniably, good-looking in a cherubic sort of way; a mop of messy blonde hair constantly falling into his wide, worried blue eyes. Those eyes, usually clouded with anxiety, occasionally held a spark of mischief, a rare glimpse behind the wall of fear that seemed permanently constructed around him. The irony wasn't lost on Remus that Peter, a creature of such overwhelming apprehension, was a Gryffindor. Surely, even the Sorting Hat must have had a moment of doubt. Wasn't bravery supposed to involve a certain amount of self-assurance? Peter's bravery, if it could even be called that, was a different beast altogether. It wasn't a bold charge into battle, but a hesitant, stumbling step forward, driven more by loyalty than by courage. He’d face down a werewolf for Remus, and he did, monthly. He would drag his feet, complain, whine; but he always showed up, loyal as they come.
“Your own fault for choosing a rat, Wormtail.” Sirius sneered, rolling his eyes. Sirius had no patience for Peter’s theatrics, and no sympathy when he whined about being too small or too slow. He could be rather vicious at times, and sometimes Remus wondered whether Sirius liked him at all, or if he simply tolerated his presence in their group for James. There was nothing Sirius wouldn’t do for James, a fact that irritated Remus to no end. Whatever James suggested Sirius would be his cheerleader and right-hand man, no matter the potential risks or consequences. Teachers said they were joined at the hip, like brothers. Remus only knew of one other pair of brothers as closely connected as his two friends, a pair of twins two years ahead of them in school. He envied that loyalty, even as his mind whispered that Sirius gave him the same level of devotion. He couldn’t help it, with Sirius he had to fight down the constant urge to be possessive, selfish of his time and attention in a way he never was with anyone else.
“You don’t get to choose! You know that!” Peter said petulantly, kicking at a rock in the grass. He was sensitive about his Animagus form, no matter how often they proved how useful it one for one of them to be able to squeeze through tight spaces or sneak unnoticed to some forbidden location. A rat was certainly stealthier than a Stag, which was James’s animal form.
“Just ride on one of us, like always.” James says nonchalantly. Of course, to James it was a simple solution, not stopping for a moment to consider that Peter might be embarrassed to be the one who needed to be carried along like a child. It was the nature of the Animagus though; your animal reflected something about your nature. You didn’t choose the creature; it was revealed to you with meditation. Remus wondered, as pain ripped through his spine, what his animal would have been if he’s been given a choice. A chance to choose his path in life. Even his patronis was a wolf, as if the creature had carved out whatever made him fundamentally himself and replaced it with its filth.
“We need to keep moving.” Remus said, rolling his neck again, trying to release the growing pressure in his spine. It felt like his bones were grinding together, and he imagined them splintering apart, sending shards of bone into his body and ripping him apart. “It’s getting late.” His voice was hoarse, his breath coming in harsh pants. Too late. It’s too late already.
Sirius looked at him, understanding shimmering in his black eyes. He reached out and squeezed Remus’s shoulder briefly, and pushed off the tree, leading the way through the gnarled trees of the Forbidden Forest. Remus followed Sirius, his gait slow and tortured. Peter and James followed, laughing softly at some joke between them. The moon continued its traitorous rise into the sky, it’s silver beams casting long, skeletal shadows that danced with their every move. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, a familiar perfume to Remus, but tonight, a different, sharper smell cut through. He froze, realizing the difference in him, in this night, was due to the smell on the wind that had been plaguing him, the sharp edge to the air had a source, and they were closing in on it. Pain, intense and searing ripped through him, almost dropping him to his knees as his mind named it, his wolf wanted it; the metallic tang of fresh blood.
“Something’s…wrong.” Remus said through his teeth, as another ripple passing through his tense muscles as he fought back his impending change. They weren’t far enough yet. The scent of blood in the air was getting stronger, and his wolf, already clawing desperately inside his mind and under his skin was nearly impossible to hold back. He groaned in pain as he paused again, sniffing the air. Sirius tossed his cigarette down and experimentally sniffed the air as well. “Is that blood, Mooney?” He asked quietly, the laughter draining from his dark eyes as he watched Remus’s face.
“Blood?” Peter squeaked from James’s side. “Are we safe?”
Sirius laughed cruelly. “We’re four animagi wizards, Wormtail.” He rolled his eyes. “What would you have to be afraid of?” There was an edge to his voice that belied the casual words.
A sound – a whimper barely audible above the rustle of leaves – drew their attention. Remus snapped his head in the direction of the sound, moving before he could think.
“This way!” He shouted, leading his friends in a crashing sprint, off the path and deeper into the thick trees. The scent of her (he knew it was female, his wolf knew and he wanted her) blood filled his nose, his mouth, and he salivated even as what was left of his human brain rebelled against the thought. His wolf wanted her, wanted his teeth in her flesh and her blood in his throat. It smelled sweet, like honey and chocolate. Essential as water for a parched throat. The images flashing through his mind were foreign, feral and obscene. Find her, rut her, bite her, savage her. It blurred together, a primal cry that was almost lethal. Her blood called to him, a fucking siren song of savage lust. His human mind shied away from the violent nature of his werewolf, and he couldn’t tell if his wolf wanted to mate her or kill her, but either was unacceptable (wrong, vile, inhuman)- but his limbs moved all the same, muscles burning and lungs screaming as he raced through the underbrush. He couldn’t stop himself, his movement and course of direction driven by an instinct that he had no power to stop. His skin burned; his bones creaked as his body fought to change with the rise of the moon. He burst into the clearing, broken branches and leaves spraying around him as he cleared the underbrush. Remus was panting harshly, his nostrils flared as the scent hit him, full force and close, so close. The sweet metallic tang of her blood filled the clearing, along with the more subtle scent of her sweat, the primal aroma of her fear. He heard her gasping breath before his eyes, already glowing amber and picking up every detail of the night his human vision didn’t allow, found her.
A girl lay crumpled beneath a sprawling oak, her long dark curls fanned out in the mud around her. Blood stained her clothes, matting her t-shirt to her thin frame. She moaned softly, shifting her body in the dirt, her head rolling to the side. He saw her eyes as they opened, focused for a moment on him. Her heart-shaped face was streaked with blood and filth, but her dark eyes shone in the silver light of the moon, filled with hope. His wolf, usually a snarling, chaotic force, was strangely… focused.
“There!” He cried in a guttural voice, throwing his arm up to point. His joints popped, his shoulder dislocating harshly. He dropped to his knees, unable to control his body as his bones shifted, his skin stretched to the point of splitting, fur bursting forth along every part of him.
“Moony!” Sirius cried, diving down and wrapping an arm around his friend’s shoulder. Remus was panting, sucking in great gasps of air and breathing out in a wet, sick way. His lungs felt heavy, fluid filled as his ribs cracked and changed position. “James!” Sirius screamed. “He’s changing!”
“Too late…” He gasped. He grabbed Sirius’s hand, forcing his face up as the vertebra in his neck snapped and popped. “Get…her.” He gasped. “Ruuuun.” Remus forced his last word out of his changing mouth as his jaw dislocated and his teeth began to grow. With his last ounce of strength, he pushed Sirius away, sending his friend sprawling to the ground, and raced for the trees, desperate to put as much distance between his wolf and his friends as possible.