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“Don’t you get it, Pads? We’ll never really understand him.” James said, looking at him earnestly, broomstick taken apart and spread before him for re-assembly. “He’s… he’s sort of, different. Who wouldn’t be, going through what he does?”
“What d’you mean?” Sirius picked up one of the twigs from the Shooting Star’s tail, and James slapped his hand away.
“Fuck off. This is the newest model, and I don’t want you charming it to fart.” James said chidingly, then looked back down at the broomstick parts again, and picked up the handle with care. “Anyway, you know what I mean. Being bitten by a werewolf at five years old?He’s got to be a bit…” James tried to find an inoffensive word. “Damaged.”
“He doesn’t seem damaged to me.” Sirius snorted, rolling his eyes. “Tough as old boots, our Moony.”
“Look, I’m just saying maybe you could leave off with the PMS jokes and the teasing, you know? He’s obviously my mate and I love him, you know that, but he’s not like you and Pete. We’re lucky.”
“If you say so.” Sirius said in disbelief. Remus had never really seemed ‘different’ to him, and certainly not damaged, and the PMS jokes, for the most part, made him laugh - ergo; James was talking out of his arse, and being too politically correct. Again. Sirius had no reason to treat moony any different to his other friends, so taking the mickey was perfectly acceptable.
He reached for the broomstick seat and James slapped his hand again. Pity. It’d have been greatly improved by some flatulent sound-effects, in Sirius’ opinion, and they had a match on Saturday.
xxx
they were going to the shack that night when James elbowed him, hard, in the ribs, causing him to bowl backwards into peter, who shrieked, the grounds at night making him very jumpy indeed. James only paused momentarily to call Peter a pussy before he elbowed Sirius again. Sirius jumped back, threw the cloak off.
“Oi! What the fuck are you doing?”
“You remember what I said this afternoon, right?”
“Don’t tease him? I don’t know whether you’re familiar with werewolves mate, but I’m really not about to start blowing raspberries at one.”
“I mean after. Prick.”
“Alright. I don’t know what’s got you in such a fuss anyway, it’s all in fun, isn’t it, Pete?” Peter looked a little sour, all too accustomed to being on the receiving end of Sirius’ particular brand of humour. “- Christ. Everyone’s a critic tonight.” He huffed, and eyed Pete derisively. “Are you going to let us in, or what?”
Peter transformed without a word. James aimed punch Sirius in the arm, but he dodged it. “You can leave Pete alone, and all. Sometimes I think it’s you who’s got the hormonal problem.”
“I’ll make you take that back tomorrow, Potter.” Sirius laughed, but James was still looking at him seriously.
“Do you promise you’ll leave him alone? At least while he recovers?”
“Yes! Fuck. Yes! Can we go in now, please?” He thrust the cloak at James’ chest and transformed, ducking the dog’s head and weaving through the Willow’s still branches. The dog, big-pawed and clumsy in adolescence, slipped easily through the gap to the Shack, James the stag in tow.
Xxx
Sirius woke in the shack the next morning as a dog, fully prepared to prove James wrong and to start taking the piss out of Remus for his antics in the forest, except – something was wrong. He could smell blood, like a dense fog all around him. Remus lay in the corner.
Sirius sat up, hind legs still on the ground, and looked at him. It seemed the standard scene; Remus lay naked on the floor of the shack, breathing, definitely; but he knew something was wrong, could smell it. James and Peter were nowhere to be found. He’d left early the night before, gone back to the shack to sleep, confident that the wolf was docile that night, that James and Pete could handle it… He transformed back into a boy and crossed the room warily.
“Remus?” No reply. “Moony?” Remus didn’t stir. Sirius knelt by his foetal form, having seen this all before on previous nights and unconcerned by his nakedness. He shook the werewolf’s shoulder gently. “Oi, Moons.” He laughed nervously. “this isn’t funny.” Even as a boy, now, he could smell the blood. Remus trembled and groaned, and to his horror Sirius looked down to find the knees of his trousers saturated, red-black with Remus’ blood. “Shit. Shit.” He didn’t know any medical spells. He shook Remus a bit harder, frantically, because somehow he thought Remus would know what to do. Terrified, he crouched next to the werewolf’s ear and said, louder, “Moons. Moony. Remus.”, shaking him all the while. He felt the werewolf’s chest for a pulse and found one, but didn’t know if its fast – well it felt fast to him, but he was no MediWitch, what did he fucking know? – beat was a good or a bad sign. Remus stirred, eyes blinking blearily. Leaning over him Sirius saw the wound, smaller than, by rights, he thought it should be. A great jagged line ran along Remus’ right shoulder, black at the edges where it had scabbed, blood trickling slow from its edge into the sizeable puddle underneath the werewolf’s right side. Remus muttered.
“Whassgoin’on?” He slurred, and Sirius, heart clenching, looked away from the wound, to his face.
“You’re hurt.” He said stupidly, and Remus peered down at himself.
“Oh-“ His eyes were slightly unfocused. “Oh.” Remus looked back at Sirius, who was gaping dumbly at him, legs having melted a good few minutes ago. “Couldyuh- could you be a dear, Pads, and get us y’wand?” Sirius stared at him blankly before a few more seconds before realising he’d been given a command.
- “Right. Right. Um.” He pulled himself out of the puddle, legs sticking, trying not to think about it, and ran over to where their clothes lay in a neat pile, folded by Remus. (typical.) All their wands lay on top; he grabbed his own and brought it over, knelt beside Remus again with the wand tightly in his grip. Remus looked at him like he was insane.
“Are y’alright?”
“Am – Am I?” Sirius boggled at him. “Am I alright?”
“Y’look. Flushed.”
“I’m- I’m fine. What do you want me to do?” His knuckles turned white around the wand. Remus looked at him, eerily calm. With difficulty, clearly in pain, the werewolf pulled himself up from the floor, strands of half-congealed blood coming with him in long strings. Sirius, watching, fought the urge to vomit and clutched the wand harder instead. His hand shook. Remus crossed his legs, apparently choosing this moment to get modest. Sirius wasn’t really seeing anything anyway at the time, too busy concentrating on the ceaseless roar in his ears. Remus put a hand on Sirius’ shoulder briefly, then clutched his own again, hand below the wound.
“It’s alright.” He said softly, keeping eye contact. “Look. Just – point th’wand.” His voice, pained still, became clearer with each word. Sirius clung to the eye-contact, wand still desperately raised. He nodded. “Point it – at that –“ He gestured with his chin at his shoulder, “and say Vul-ner-a San-en-tur.” Sirius nodded. Remus, patiently, nodded with him. “do you remember? You know this one. I taught you before.”
“Yes. Yeah, I remember. Vul-“
“Vulnera Sanentur.”
“Remus…”
“Do it please, Pads. It’ll be fine.” He grinned, which was more of a wince, really. Sirius, steeling himself, finally pointed his wand at the wound. He breathed in sharply.
“Vul-Vulnera Sanentur.” He choked, eyes clamped shut. He heard nothing, but after a couple of seconds Remus clapped him on the back, then leant on him for support.
“Cheers Pads. Well done. Really.” Remus went whiter than before, and briefly rested his forehead on Sirius’ shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow, probably.” He said slowly, laughing slightly – and with that, he passed out, white-grey on Sirius’ shoulder, hand lying limp over Sirius’ bent knee.
Sirius, completely drained himself, gently removed the werewolf from his shoulder and laid him on the floor. He pointed his want at his bare shoulder and muttered,“Tergeo.” Shakily, he got to his feet, got his clothes, wrapped a blanket around Remus that was there just for such an occasion, and sat with him until Madame Pomfrey, frantic, arrived.
xxx
James burst into the hospital wing when Sirius was still sitting at Remus’ bedside, grey in the face. “Is he alright? We lost him last night!” Pete followed, looking worriedly at Remus but stonily at Sirius, clearly still holding a grudge.
“We turned around and he was gone.” He said quietly, eyes on Remus. “How is he?”
“He was bleeding a lot, but he’s – he’ll be fine.” Sirius breathed, looking at his hand. Madame Pomfrey had put a blanket around him when they came in, since he was white as a sheet and, as she put it, probably a ‘bit shaken’ by what he’d seen. He certainly was.
“James.” He said quietly. James didn’t appear to hear. He repeated himself, louder. “James, you were wrong.”
“m? About what?”
“he’s not – you know, damaged. Or broken. Or whatever.” Sirius shook his head in disbelief. “He’s really, really strong.”
James nodded at him. “’Course he is. Bravest of us all.” Peter nodded in agreement. James looked away from Remus, at Sirius again. “Doesn’t mean you couldn’t stand to be a bit nicer in general, though, mate.”
“…You may have a point.” Sirius conceded, smiling, still staring in disbelief and awe at the werewolf in the bed in front of him.