SDS - Changelings - 12/13
CHANGELINGS
[ masterpost]
Chapter Twelve: The Changeling Boys
Sirius throws himself down on a bench next to Remus in the Great Hall and steals his toast.
"Did you know," he asks incredulously, "there's a rumour going around that your Dad works in freelance dragon control, and that over Christmas you were bitten by a highly venomous Welsh Green, leaving you with six months to live?"
"Oh, definitely," Remus replies, snatching the half-eaten toast from Sirius's hand. "I started that one myself." Ignoring the idea of any latent Sirius germs (his metabolism can probably handle it) Remus bites into the remains of his toast.
James laughs and pats him on the back.
"Ouch, careful there, Prongs," says Remus, weakly shielding his ribs.
"Right, sorry."
"Are you going to tell us why you thought letting everyone think that you're suffering from a slow death by dragon bite was a good idea?" presses Sirius, scooping up a huge serving of porridge.
Remus shrugs. "More socially acceptable than Werewolf bite, in case you haven't noticed. Should I just have left them thinking I'm being beaten by my poor sick mother? The old lies don't hold up anymore." He gestures to himself. Sirius has to admit he's lost weight and has been walking with a limp since the February transformation slashed up his Achilles tendon. He's pale and has dark circles under his eyes like he's been punched in the face.
"You might want to try Vampire instead," suggests Peter, studying him. "I think they'd believe you."
"Thanks, Pete," says Remus, "While that would be a step up, from Beasts to the Beings category, I'd rather everyone go on thinking I'm some poor human attacked by a Big Bad Dragon."
"Do you really think anyone's going to believe that?" asks Peter.
Remus looks a little amused, under all his exhaustion. "You'd be surprised. And the ones that think I'm taking the piss just assume that if I had to come up with such a huge story, it must actually be something really small and stupid, like falling down the steps or an attack by a pet rabbit. Pass the chocolate spread."
"Six months though?" asks James.
Remus shrugs, a little defensive. Sirius can see it in the way his shoulders hunch.
"I have to tell people something. You've all seen how bad it's getting. I nearly clawed through my own neck in January. Last month wasn't much better."
Sirius slams his goblet down on the table. Pumpkin juice sloshes out, swamping Peter's scrambled eggs.
"Can you not fucking talk about it that way, Remus?" he growls.
Remus meets his eyes coolly. "Think about it realistically, Sirius: I warned you, all of you, when you first found out. I told you the odds, and I gave you a chance to put your loyalty somewhere more long lasting." He shoves the rest of his toast away and sighs. "Sorry. I'm tired, and my leg is killing me. I'm going up to get more pain potion from Madam Pomfrey before classes start.
He stands and Sirius catches his robes. "You promised, Remus," he hisses, tugging. "You promised us 1981."
Remus tugs out of his grip.
"You made me," he snaps, and storms off.
Sirius watches him go. "When can we tell him?" he hisses at James. "We've waited years."
"Wait a little bit longer. By the beginning of summer we should be able to do it. Then we can tell him." James goes back to his breakfast.
"Summer?" demands Sirius. "James, that's months away!"
"We're going as fast as we can, Sirius. I'm fairly certain we've broken at least twelve records so far, which is a shame because no one can ever know," James sighs, forlorn, but catches himself when Sirius clears his throat. James lowers his voice further. "The wolf won't destroy him before then."
"How can you be sure?" whispers Peter.
James shrugs. "I know Remus. He can probably keep going on sheer willpower alone. And he always underestimates himself." His tone turns darkly humorous. "He's given himself six months in his dragon story. We've got twice that, at very least."
Sirius stabs his spoon into his porridge, all appetite forgotten. "You're an optimist, James," he growls. "But there's a difference between being hopeful and just letting your friend fucking-" He cuts off; can't say it.
"And Remus is a pessimist," Peter points out. "It should balance out between the two of them."
"Plus," adds James, jabbing his fork in Sirius's direction, "You believe me."
The transformations begin to make living feel like more of a haze. Life is happening around him, but he's moving too slowly to reach out and touch any of it. It's all Remus can do to keep up with his schoolwork. His father eventually sends him a letter, worried because he hasn't heard anything from Remus since Christmas. He hurriedly writes back, but finds he has nothing to say.
The weather gets wet, then hot. It's like living in a fever. He sleeps a lot. Sirius never sleeps, but Sirius is always there. There are always hands on his arm, on his back, on his neck. It must look strange, even to James and Peter, but Remus can't remember them saying anything about it.
He wakes up a little in time for May, thanks to the summer-like heat, the impending exams, and no small effort on the parts of James and Sirius.
"You have to come see the Quidditch match, Moony!" exclaims James. "It's the deciding match for the Cup!"
"Gryffindor isn't even playing, James," Remus tries to point out. He can never really understand the Quidditch obsession that grips his friends.
"That doesn't matter! It's against Slytherin. We just have to go out and cheer for anyone with the power to pulverise the enormous tossers."
James is not taking defeat well. Remus imagines he'll spend the entire match shouting instructions at the Ravenclaw seeker, in an attempt to live vicariously.
"Ravenclaw's got these amazing beaters," says Sirius. "I'm sure at one point Bulstrode will get a bludger to the face. You can't miss that, Moony."
"Funnily enough, I don't feel the need for excess violence. I feel the need for studying for my potions exam." It sounds stuffy, even to his ears, but he's always behind in every subject thanks to stupid werewolves and stupid transformations.
"Bother your potions exam," says Sirius, stealing his textbook. "Come to the game, it'll be brilliant!"
"What put you in such high spirits?" asks Remus suspiciously. Sirius has been increasingly moody and temperamental as summer draws nearer.
"Oh, so glad you asked, and so soon too." He holds out a hand. "Pay up, Prongs."
James sighs. "Oh Moony, how you disappoint me. I thought you could make him wait another week."
"I have no idea what any of you are on about," Remus informs them. "Hand me back my textbook."
"No, listen Moony. Don't you want to know why I'm so fucking happy?"
"Ignorance is bliss," Remus responds, squinting at his notes. "Do you really have to add the newt eyeballs before the unicorn tooth for a Babbling Beverage?"
"No, no, that's completely wrong," says Sirius, peering over Remus's shoulder. "I swear, how do you take perfect notes in History of Magic but mess up potions so perfectly?"
"It's a talent," says Remus drily. "Give Prongs back his money, I'm not asking you anything."
"Well, then I'm telling you anyway. Mother and Father dearest are ferrying Regulus off to Bellatrix's wedding. They're desperate to stow me away somewhere where I can't make trouble." He grins darkly. "I think they still remember my behaviour on Narcissa's big day."
"So we've been thinking," puts in James, "that you're doing that extra credit summer project for Slughorn, aren't you?"
"I need it," Remus says glumly.
"Well, it just so happens that the potion assigned needs very fresh ingredients."
"Incredibly fresh," agrees Sirius.
"And there's one really rare one that we really need."
"Which just so happens to only grow in this place called Snowdonia National Park, in some itty bitty country you may possibly have heard about called…Wales!"
"So we realised," says James.
"Completely after the fact, of course," interjects Sirius.
"That you live very, very close to the strange and wonderful Land of Snowdonia."
They stop and wait expectantly. Remus opens his mouth, to say what he isn't sure.
"Not true, Remus!" crows James before Remus can choke out so much as a syllable. "Your Mum can hardly say no when it's for school, can she?"
Remus sighs and lets his head thump onto the table. He turns a little, blearily looking up at Sirius.
"Can you really get out?"
Sirius bites his lip. "Yeah," he says. "It'll probably be the last real vacation I ever have, before my parents lock me up in the Black family cloister. Please, Remus?"
Remus hopes the Blacks do not really have a cloister.
"Alright, alright, I'll write my Dad. What did this even have to do with Quidditch?" he demands.
They look confused. "Nothing. Quidditch is Quidditch. You're coming to the match, right?"
"Ugh," says Remus. "Where's Peter? I feel like you're ganging up on me."
"We are," says James cheerfully.
"Peter would just side with us, anyway," Sirius reminds him, his grin evil to James's cheeky. "Best give in."
"Bugger. What time is the match?"
"Three this afternoon."
Remus scrunches up his eyes. "But Sirius, it's fifteen past three."
"It's WHAT?" yelps James in full-blown panic.
"It can't be!" protests Sirius. "I just woke up!"
"Your sleep schedule is hardly going to be helpful in keeping time, Padfoot," says Remus. "I think you're slowly becoming nocturnal."
"Are dogs nocturnal?" Sirius asks James, who kicks him very hard in the shin. He yelps and falls on Remus's desk, scattering his notes.
"Come on Moooooony," says Sirius, perfectly at home stretched out across all Remus's hard work. This must be symbolic of something, Remus is sure.
"Padfoot, I will come with you if you stop trying to spill ink over an absolutely mind-numbingly difficult Defence essay."
"Brilliant!" shouts Sirius, leaping to his feet and grabbing hold of Remus's arm. "Onwards to the Quidditch pitch, Prongs!"
"Onwards!" James echoes, because they are all idiots. He stabs his wand in the air and a few sparks shoot off. They each grab one side of Remus and all but frogmarch him out of the portrait hole and down to the Quidditch stands, where Peter is waiting for them.
"Merlin James, you really got him to come!" says Peter, making room for them. "Slytherin's scored once, but it was a lucky shot."
"They won't get two," says James grimly, staring at the little players shooting about in blue and green. "Hand over that sickle, Wormtail. Remus is here. Don't think I forgot."
"Blast," says Peter, digging through his pockets.
"Would you lot stop betting on me?" demands Remus. "Merlin, it's unnerving sometimes." Sirius throws an arm around his shoulders.
"Just think of it as a form of flattery, Moony," he stage whispers in Remus's ear.
Remus shivers, quite involuntarily.
Remus's Dad is waiting patiently for the four of them on Platform Nine and Three Quarters when the Hogwarts Express glides into the station.
"Ugh, there are my parents," says Sirius, pointing in another direction. "Let's wait until they take Regulus and go."
"You're sure?" asks James.
"Positive. You all can go on and meet Mr. Lupin if you'd like." Sirius swallows. "I don't even want to see them." He strides out into the corridor, heading Merlin knows where in the Express.
"What happened over Easter?" Peter whispers. "He was bad when he came back from last Christmas, but this time…."
James shakes his head. "Don't talk about it," he orders.
"He's actually scared James," Peter presses. "Have you ever seen Sirius scared? Aside from, you know, with Moony." He jerks his blonde head at Remus.
"What are you talking about?" asks Remus.
"The transformations always worry all of us," says James firmly. "Enough though, okay? We'll come up with something if it looks like Sirius is really getting in trouble. We always do."
"But James, he all but said his family is in with those Death Eater-"
"Looks like they're gone," Remus says loudly. He stands and pokes his head into the corridor, where Sirius is sulking against a wall. "Sirius! All clear!"
They pile out of the compartment and into the mess of students dragging trunks and owls behind. Marlene stops by and blows them all a kiss. Remus waves to Lily, who's lugging her trunk towards the passage to Muggle Kings Cross with Alice's help.
"See you next Fall," he says.
"You too. Kick Potter in the bollocks for me," she calls, and crosses the barrier.
"It's love," proclaims James as they push their way through the crowd.
"Whatever you say, Prongs," Sirius tells him. He turns to Peter and whispers loudly, "Just humour him, the poor sod. He'll never learn."
James laughs and cuffs him.
"Feeling rambunctious boys?" asks Mr. Lupin mildly. He was a loud man, once. Remus can barely remember that time now.
"Er, of course not, Mr. Lupin," says James. "Nice to meet you. I'm James Potter." They shake hands.
"You remember Sirius and Peter, Dad," says Remus, doing the polite thing.
Mr. Lupin studies them, especially Sirius. Sometimes Remus also forgets that his Dad was once high up in the Ministry and would know all about the Blacks.
Sirius stares right back.
"Well, come along this way," says Mr. Lupin. "It's quite a drive we've got ahead of us."
They pile into the kitchen on the first morning in Wales, sleepy and awkward in Muggle clothes. Remus is at the table, eating corn flakes out of a large glass measuring cup.
"Are you coming out with us tonight, Mrs. Lupin?" asks James, flashing Remus's Mam his second-best grin.
"Maybe, boys," she says, tapping a cigarette on the ashtray. It's amazing how small she looks to Remus, suddenly. She'd fit under his chin easily, her entire body dwarfed by his.
There's nothing to do in the cottage but watch Mam watching them with a cigarette between her teeth, so they go out. James wants to see the cliff, even though the waves are far too rough for any diving. James talks about Lily, just nattering on like he's got no brain in his head, but it's actually rather comforting. Peter chats about Mrs. Lupin's cooking and plays his pipe when they sit down for a bit. Sirius doesn't say much of anything, but he looks so hard at everything that it's almost frightening.
They hurry back across the two miles to the cottage through the deepening twilight, where supper is waiting. The fireflies are coming out by the time they all pile in the door.
It would be almost nice, Remus thinks, if it weren't for the fact that it feels like a goodbye party for Sirius. He's not even going away, really. Lots of people don't see their school friends over summer. He might not see Peter and James again until September, but at least they'll send letters. It's just three months.
They all know it could very well be different. Sirius still wears that ring, the one with the crest of his family emblazoned on it. He's worn it since he was eleven and it can't be taken off.
Such a tiny, unobtrusive shackle. Remus can hardly take his eyes off of it while they eat. When Sirius forgets himself, or when he feels under pressure from Mrs. Lupin's stare, his hands over his plate begin to move like a pianist's. When he relaxes they drum on his plate.
"Alright boys," says Mr. Lupin, "Why don't you go get your things together for herb collecting? We'll head out as soon as it's properly dark."
They nod and scoot back their chairs.
When they get back to Remus's room, Sirius isn't there.
"Where's Padfoot, James?" asks Peter.
James's face is uncharacteristically dark. "He got a letter."
Remus frowns. "From Andromeda?"
James shakes his head. "Regulus," he says. Peter whistles.
"And he opened it?"
"Dunno," says James. "He's outside."
Remus finds Sirius out by the water-pump, leaning on the spigot with one hand and clutching a letter in the other. It looks like he's trying to read it in the light from the fireflies.
"Sirius," he calls. "Come on inside. You'll get eaten up by mosquitoes."
Sirius shakes his head.
"Sirius, what are you doing?" Remus tries again, drawing closer. "Are you all right?"
"I'm trying not to vomit on your Mother's water-pump," Sirius says, not looking at Remus. He seems entranced by the fireflies.
"What the hell was in that letter? What did your brother say?"
Sirius straightens and gives the spigot a swift kick. Remus has always tried to be carefully neutral towards Regulus Black, who is obviously in over his head in the wrong crowd. That neutrality is threatening to fall apart.
"The little prat, he - he. Fucking Reg. He doesn't know what to do except what he's told." He picks the spigot again, harder. Remus waits, patiently, silently. "He's planning to join them, Remus. The Death Eaters. Bella, Merlin I hope she burns to death in fiendfyre, is in with them, deep. Close to the leaders. She initiated him, or whatever. He says he'll be an official member in a few years. Mother and Father are so proud. They insist I join as well." He lets the hand holding the letter dangle, stares at the blurring light of the fireflies. "They cordially insist."
Sirius doesn't sit down. He doesn't cry. Remus doesn't touch him.
"He won't survive that. Not Regulus. He wasn't made for this fucking shit." The letter is torn in his hands into little pieces. They scatter with the fireflies.
He looks at Remus for the first time.
"He's just a little kid," Sirius whispers.
Remus touches his face. Sirius stares back at him.
"Do it now," Sirius whispers, voice cracked. "What you're going to do - do it now before you see what you're going to see tonight."
"What am I going to see?" asks Remus softly, like Sirius will shake to pieces in front of him if he doesn't speak low, like he'll scatter shards of light with the fireflies and Remus will never find him again. He can feel the sharpness of Sirius's jaw and cheekbones under his hand. Sirius says nothing. Neither of them move.
"Alright," says Sirius, pulling away. "Alright."
Remus grabs him by the front of the shirt and drags him back, face to face in front of the water pump. He kisses Sirius hard across the mouth.
It doesn't feel like it's the first time they've done it. It feels like they've been kissing for years without ever realizing it. How stupid of them not to realize and just go ahead and do it for real. Sirius's hands come up to Remus's neck, his back, tight enough to steal his breath while his mouth gives it back.
"Remus!" Remus's mother shouts from the stoop. They jump apart, hearts pounding.
"She can't see us," Remus hisses. "It's fine."
"You sure?" gasps Sirius.
Remus shrugs. "She only sees what she wants to see," he says. "And it's dark out." The figure of his Mam retreats back into the cottage. The look at each other, stare really. Close enough to feel each other's warm breaths on their cheeks.
Sirius steals a kiss and laughs aloud. It echoes in the dusk.
Remus's parents are less strict than Sirius remembers from last summer. Mrs. Lupin watches them leave without a word about curfew or safety. Around midnight Mr. Lupin bows out of the search for some elusive weed James is insisting is called the Welsh Walterishnapper, characterized by round leaves and spotted berries which resemble robin's eggs, and which can only be harvested by starlight.
"Good luck, boys," he says, and takes one of the lanterns back over the ridge. There's no mention of when they should be back or what they're up to. Sirius doesn't know much about parents; doesn't understand them, but maybe the Lupins can see how precarious Remus's health is. Maybe they don't care what trouble he gets into anymore, as long as he's alive and well to get into it.
As soon as his lantern light fades, James throws down his basket and stretches. They've got two more lanterns and the half-moonlight and not another living person for miles, not counting the Lupins.
"Now you'll see what I meant," says Sirius, quietly so only Remus hears him.
James sends him a look. "Don't go spoiling things," he admonishes.
"I wasn't, promise." When James and Peter look away lips brush Remus's ear. He wonders where the boundaries have gone, and whether they were there in the first place.
James, Peter and Sirius clamber up onto a rocky outcropping, empty rolling hills behind them lit by the stars and the moon. The wind in the grass on the far hill looks like rippling fur.
"We couldn't tell you before now, Moony," says James. "We had to be sure we could do it, first."
Remus is very, very worried.
"What have you been up to?" he asks, mentally scanning the weeks before for any signs of strange activity. Nothing.
"We had to do something," says Sirius, balancing on a little stone that juts out of the hill. "You have to understand that. We're your friends. We couldn't do nothing."
Remus's stomach is churning now.
"This isn't about the wolf, is it?" he asks. "Please tell me it's not. There's nothing you can do to me. No cure."
"Well, no. No cure," says Peter. "But there are always loopholes."
"Oh Merlin, are you all mad?" demands Remus. "There are no loopholes in lycanthropy!"
"Goodness, in all these years you've spent with us, you can't believe we, of all people, wouldn't find a way?" asks James with a grin. "No, though you probably would have figured it out faster than we did, had situations been reversed. Because all the wolf wants is freedom, right?"
"And killing," says Remus bitterly. "Don't forget killing."
"Only humans. Tell me one Werewolf that goes after animals."
"Tell me one animal a Werewolf can't get past on its way towards humans," Remus counters.
"Oh," says Sirius with a slow grin, "I don't know about that. I think I could take you on."
It looks like a trick of the light at first. Like Sirius is a dark shadow that grows, shifts, springs forward.
The dog is giant, black and shaggy, as big as a bear. It leans back on its haunches, pink tongue sliding in and out of its jaws. It gives a big grin, full of canines and so full of Sirius.
James rolls his eyes. "Way to steal the thunder, Padfoot you arse."
And then he sprouts antlers.
In a moment the three of them stand in front of Remus on the hilltop, a stag, a rat, and a dog casting long and strange shadows in the moonlight, smelling of strange and wild things.
They change back with a shake.
"So you see," says James. He points to each of them in turn. "We're Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. Truly, now."
The cottage is dark and silent. James and Peter dump the night's findings in Remus's room. Remus is not utterly sure they needed quite so many mushrooms for these potions.
"Peter and I are going to sleep in the living room," James says, "It was packed in here last night."
It probably was, and this could be nothing, but it feels like James might know. Probably knows.
Remus finds that he doesn't care.
They fall on each other in the bed, press on top of the quilts it's too warm to need. Remus tastes Sirius's mouth, his neck, touches the rest. They are fifteen and they are desperate but their hands touch softly. He knots his fingers in Sirius's hair, pushes him down underneath himself. In the darkness they are just human, they are just people. What's in their blood doesn't matter; can't matter until the morning. Sirius's cock is warm and heavy in his hand and later tastes like salt.
Afterwards they lay together in a tangle of warm skin. Sirius watches the fireflies outside the window.
"I always liked fireflies," he says. Remus kisses the old scar that runs the length of Sirius's palm.
"They're so different from stars. Stars are distant and dead and don't care. Fireflies are alive. They breathe. Eventually they die. I always liked that much better."
Remus smiles softly against Sirius's bare shoulder.
"Get some sleep Padfoot."
Next Chapter