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C: Remus Lupin. - Blog Posts
melancolialunar:
Remus was stuck in a hazy existence, as if the very edges of life had been blurred out from the pain. It was difficult to care about anything when his entire body was busy putting itself back together. It was almost a miracle he even managed to be walking and moving like a semi-human – he remembered back in the day, having to be carried out to the infirmary in the mornings, unable to even stand on his feet. It was either a great fortune or a tragedy that his body seemed to have gotten more used to transformations now.
Careless as he was, he didn’t pay any of this situation any mind, for a hot second. Not his raggedy clothes that were three sizes too big and probably made him look like a hag, not the state of his father’s home, not the food that Severus chose to share on the table. He was careless as he sat down on the floor, limbs folding down ungracefully like a puppet crumbling to the ground. His skin felt on fire, as if it had been scrubbed raw, nerve-ends exposed, and feeling the fabric of the couch against it was too painful.
He picked up the bowl and was halfway through scarfing its contents down when he started caring. The soup was much appreciated to a growling, empty stomach, a state of being that Remus hardly even noticed anymore. It warmed up his insides, his hands, it soothed the dull ache on his knuckles. It felt nice. “I can look like death and be focused. I’m multifaceted like that.” He joked defensively, suddenly hyper aware that he must’ve looked like some kind of inhuman wild creature, lit up with bruises, all curled up around a bowl of soup, eating up as if he hadn’t seen food in the last month.
In hopes to regain some of his decency, he wiped at his mouth with the back of a hand and cleared his throat before he spoke again. “My mum used to make chicken soup. When I was sick, I mean. Did Lily tell you about this?” It was simply curiosity nagging at the back of his head, a tongue that found itself without much of a filter in the wake of so many wounds to lick. It’d be a funny coincidence if it hadn’t been Lily’s doing.
The dreaded request came – walk me through it – and Remus shoved another spoonful of soup into his mouth, to avoid answering for just a second longer. “Locked myself up in the cage. Turned.” His eyes focused on a spot on the wall, as he found he felt much less exposed if he didn’t have to look at Severus when he spoke about his turns. “It was… different than last time. Worse. I was aware of everything, had all my senses, but I couldn’t control it. Was like… taking a back seat to a first-person horror show, pretty much.” He knew he’d have to elaborate, bring out the details, Severus was too meticulous with his academic writing to let anything pass. But he took a lingering moment to breathe, and waited for more questions.
Severus waited for Lupin to be ready to speak, eyes taking in the littered bruises and wounds that he could see despite the baggy rumpled clothing. He came prepared with bruise salves and dittany, and made a mental note to produce them later before he left.
When Lupin did speak it was with a defensive comment. Severus raised an eyebrow, but only to suppress a smile. The werewolf was clearly uncomfortable — as he was in most situations. Lupin seemed to interact with the world around him as if through an ill-fit bodysuit for skin, and it was more pronounced now than when he was surrounded by his friends. It was something that got under Severus’ skin when they were younger, when he looked down on people who couldn’t carry a conversation with confidence. In the past few months, however, Severus had gained a new appreciation for the werewolf’s hidden resilience. Then Lupin spoke about his mum. ‘ No, ’ he said in response to the question. He paused. ‘ My mum made chicken soup, too. When I got sick. She taught me how to … ’ He gestured vaguely with a pen towards the bowl of soup and the sliced loaf of bread. She taught him how to cook and bake, among other things. Some of his fondest memories were atop a stool in the simple kitchen at his Spinner’s End home. It was part of the reason the kitchen saw little to no renovation when Severus reclaimed the property two years ago, despite the rest of the house getting turned on its head.
Severus didn’t look at Lupin directly as he explained what happened. It was a poor attempt at leniency, averting his gaze so as not to lay the full weight of his attention on the man as he struggled to recount the events. They were not friends. But despite the invasive nature of his questions, Severus did not enjoy watching him struggle. He listened attentively. Took notes. When Lupin finished his rather short explanation, Severus pretended to consult his notes for longer to give him a moment to breathe. Then he asked his questions. ‘ Did the sharpness of your senses fluctuate throughout the period of transformation? Could you keep track of time accurately while transformed? And how well do you remember the events of that night? ’
melancolialunar:
Muggle London did have a false sense of security to it, but unlike Severus, Remus found himself leaning into it, these days. He was the type of man to let himself indulge in the fantasy, even if just for a moment – sure, retreating back to reality ended up being a bucket of cold water, but he was nothing if not used to this sort of muted agony in his life. Perhaps there was something of self-penitence there too, letting himself pretend he could ever be just another bloke sitting at a coffee shop thinking about what he was going to have for lunch, before returning to the ice cold brutality of being a werewolf stuck in the middle of a war.
He watched his companion sit down, making themselves the spitting image of something comfortable, though Remus could imagine that there was some level of tension under their skin. There was no way Severus would trust him so blindly – and they were right, this was the whole point of this encounter.
“That’s exactly why I asked you to meet me, anyway. I mean– old time’s sake.” He echoed, hand idly moving over to wrap around his cup of cappuccino, even though he had no intention of having a sip from it now. It was just something for his hands to do, something he could focus his eyes on, as if the back and forth swirl of the warm liquid required his attention more than the person in front of him.
He cleared his throat, silently cursed the pregnant pause hanging in the air, before turning his eyes back up to Severus in the hopes of not looking like a total coward when he spoke next. “I want to apologise.”
Severus blinked silently for a long and still moment, then hummed curiously, head tilted back. The crackle of anger flared instantly, like a hot sun burst into furious existence deep in their belly. Their jaw tensed with the effort to keep themself contained. ‘ How unexpected, ’ they finally said, when the ringing in their ears settled down some. They leaned forward and picked up a scone in a careless manner, hummed again, elbows on the table, one hand under their chin, thoughtful. ‘ How very surprising, ’ they repeated. A beat of silence. ‘ You think I’ll poison you? Yes? With the wolfsbane? ’ It wasn’t an unappealing prospect. But it was more trouble than it was worth. Severus had long since entertained and discarded the idea, so Lupin’s concerns weren’t completely misplaced, at least. ‘ If that was my intention, Lupin, and this was your attempt to stop me, it was a useless one. And about a decade late, besides. ’
They waved the hand with the scone about with a flourish. ‘ But go on now, ’ they said. Their manner was flippant, but their whole focus was now hefted upon Lupin, the heavy unnamed pressure of being pinned by the eyes of a predator. There was no right answer to what Severus was asking. They watched for something to lunge at, and whatever Lupin said next, they would find it. ‘ Don’t let me stop you! What’ve you got to say for yourself? ’
melancolialunar:
As expected – perhaps by no one else but himself –, the full moon night had been an absolute nightmare. Remus followed all the steps, he took the wolfsbane potion obediently, then locked himself up in a cage that was a tad too small for the fully grown wolf by now, and then he ignored his father’s nervous footsteps on the room next door. And then he waited. And he turned. The eclipse was a funny thing; it was almost as if the shadow was reaching down, curling a hand around his very spine and shaking him around violently. The wolfsbane potion almost felt like a joke.
Waking up wasn’t any easier, though at least he managed to crawl into a bath, hoping the warm water would soothe the bruises lighting up every spot that his body had thrashed against the metal bars. It didn’t, but at least it helped wash away the blood. Lyall had disappeared, as he often did the morning afters, avoiding his son’s eyes at any cost. Remus preferred it that way, too.
He peered through the peephole first, and opened the door with a pair of furrowed brows. He was positive he looked like a truck just ran him over, but hey, if Severus wanted to study their subject, then they might as well see him at his second-worst. “You brought food.” He echoed, accent thick in his tiredness, eyes focused on the mentioned pot for a lingering moment of silence. “I should ask you something to make sure it’s really you, but that smells good enough that I’m willing to die for it.” He sighed, walking back into the house and letting Severus follow him in.
As someone who dealt in secrets and information, Severus was less than reassured by how easily he was let in, but he walked into the house and let the door fall shut behind him wordlessly. He would lecture about security and stranger-danger when the werewolf didn’t look dead on his feet. Which made Severus wonder about the state of the wards on this house, if they were up to standard — somehow, he doubted Lupin bothered to install a three-tiered blood-bound protective ward around the property, but resolved to ask anyway. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to at least run a diagnostic later too.
Severus set the pot and the plate of warm bread down on the coffee table, and soon enough he was settled on the couch, notes spread out, and a steaming bowl of chicken soup in his left hand extended out towards Lupin. When Mum was sick, those long and dragging years before she passed, the neighbors filed in with pots and plates of food, and pity, which the proud witch did not care for, and one by one she drove them all away with mean-spirited and bitter lashings, and Severus would sit on her bedside with a bowl of soup and a table spoon until she calmed down. She wanted to see him and only him on her last days, and he knew his Mum then in a way he couldn’t for all seventeen years prior.
Lupin was always sick on the day after a full moon. Severus didn’t think it through when he made and packed the soup and bread this morning, but now, making the offer, it suddenly felt uncomfortable. ‘ I need you focused, ’ he said. ‘ You look like death. ’
He picked up his notes and quill, flipped through a few pages, and settled back against the couch. A hand went up to tuck a strand behind his ear. ‘ What happened yesterday? Walk me through it. ’
If Severus had been part of the team and it’s planning from the beginning, they wouldn’t have wasted so much time setting wards the day of the mission itself. It was a two-tier ward with protective and defensive spellwork, as well as an intruder’s alert. Something he had prepared previously just in case of an emergency. It was effective enough but hardly of the same effectiveness as something he could set up if he had three days instead of three hours. Bellatrix Lestrange could barrel through this in three minutes. But that was what the alarm was for.
He flicked his wrist, the last of the spellwork spun like a ribbon into a tight knot of magic. ‘ Not bad, ’ he said. But not ideal. ‘ We’re done here. This should give us a heads up if someone slips past us. ’ He paused, trying to think of a way to explain it in layman’s terms without going into technical details. ‘ It detects intent to harm and redirects it to the source. With vigor. ’ There. No need to delve into the gory details. ‘ We need a good vantage point to stake out now. ’
He turned to Lupin. ‘ What’ve you got? ’
@melancolialunar, @txlkalots
Where: Liverpool
When: June 24th
Who: Remus & Severus & Lucinda
This was the part of battle that Lucinda hated. The non-battle part. The waiting around, standing still while waiting to spring into action. Her entire body was on high-alert, startling at every rustle of a leaf, every coo of a nearby bird. Every second seemed to drag out – especially when there was no sign for how long this state of limbo would last. She hated it. Give her battle and curses, quick attacks and nimble opponents; at least then she could do something. Be useful.
For now she was resigned to stand guard while the ward-experts quietly surrounded the house of Spencer Davies with shields and spells Lucinda probably couldn’t even name. A safety measure, others would see it. A symbolic effort if you asked her. If their enemies got to the wards, it meant that there was nobody left to protect Davies. But it wouldn’t come to that. Not when they were prepared and Lucinda’s hands were itching with spells.
She let her eyes scan their surroundings, before briefly turning to her teammates. “How’s it looking time-wise?”
@wrongdeor , then @melancolialunar
@melancolialunar
June 24th, 1984. Prewett Estate.
Severus stepped away from the meeting room where Prewett introduced the new changes to the rest of the team and went over the plan again, this time with Severus’ addition in mind. Severus had watched their stalwart and fearless leader with a skeptical eye. Doubtful, but not willing to voice his doubts only hours before they were meant to head out into the field.
Gideon Prewett had a good track record as Team Lead, but that was before. And people didn’t always recover enough to retain their sensibilities in battle. But as Jones and Moody insisted, they could only know once he was out on the field. And he did agree to lead them, after all. That was a good sign. Severus would still keep an eye out, ready to pick up the slack as it happens, but he won’t object.
At least there was someone on their team that could carry their own weight. The thought, like a summons, brought Lupin to his line of sight, and Severus approached the werewolf with a nod.
‘ Lupin, ’ he called, gesturing towards the amulet in the other’s hand. ‘ You’ve got something for me? ’
So did I, Severus thought but didn’t say aloud. They had a busy schedule. They kept up with many duties at once. When the werewolf invited them for coffee they dismissed the idea out of hand, but as they found themself free this afternoon (what a coincidence! How often did a hole in their schedule appear unannounced?) they threw on an old pair of jeans and a shirt, their feet taking them down familiar London streets before they fully realized what they were doing. Or rather, why they were doing it.
The last time they properly set foot in the muggle world was so long ago Severus couldn’t place it accurately. Despite this, they merged into the comfortable flow of foot traffic as seamlessly as they would if they’ve never left. The difference between London’s streets and the silent, furtive shuffle of Diagon’s was unsubtle. It was like the war had disappeared behind them, as real as a troubling dream upon waking. Severus disliked spending more time here than they absolutely had to. Juxtaposed with this comfortable illusion of safety, the reality of their everyday life reimposed itself tenfold.
He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Dropped his gaze to the table instinctively, then looked at the werewolf, at the hand gesture. Fine, he thought, dragging the metal chair back to take a seat. Fine, then he motioned for the waiter to get him his own coffee (black, no milk, no sugar) and sat down.
He crossed his legs at the knees. Leaned back, elbow resting over the back of the metal chair. He fought the urge to fiddle with his silver earring. ‘ I almost decided this was a joke, ’ he said, the corner of his lips lifted in a smirk. ‘ One last cheap shot for old times’ sake. I haven’t ruled that out yet, just so you know. ’ He watched the werewolf silently, hand close to his wand. Waiting. Wary, but an ever-present anger moving beneath the surface. ‘ What’s this about? ’
WHEN: sometime shortly after Severus joined the order WHERE: muggle coffee shop CLOSED for @wrongdeor
Remus Lupin is not a man of many regrets. In fact, blinding Gryffindor as he is, he’d rather puff out his chest and act like a massive dick, saying he’s never done any wrong, rather than admit to some things he’d like to change in his past. But there are things. Pride sits high up in his chest and refuses to let the words form on his tongue on most days, but he has things to apologise for. In particular, the one time he was, in fact, a monster.
He’s never been proud of hurting people; every time he’s lashed out at his friends through the years, every time the full moon has made its home amongst the stars and some greater evil within him has tried its best to tear apart his friendships, he always crawls back and begs for forgiveness the morning after. He’s not a monster, he doesn’t want to be. Except the one time he is, the one time he’s done one of the worst things he could do, he hides behind his friends and doesn’t think about it ever again. There are layers upon layers of denial that sit atop of whatever foggy memory he has of the prank. He felt used by his friend, like a killing machine upon a leash; he felt inhuman for the first time in years; he was a monster who had nearly killed someone. It was easier to push all of it away, deal with none of it, and act like it didn’t happen.
It felt like that, until Severus joined the Order. Seeing them more often made the lump in Remus’ throat grow, the guilt and the resentment flooding up his brain until it was a headache he couldn’t get rid of, an ever present ache he was fighting against. He isn’t a man of many regrets, yes, but he’s not going to walk around like a coward, barely able to meet Severus’ eyes. So he sets up a meeting.
“I thought you weren’t gonna show up.” He greets, when Severus finally arrives. There’s a scone forgotten on his plate and a half-empty cup of some overpriced cappuccino concoction in front of him. He blinks up at the other, almost as if dumbfounded by their presence, before he gestures to the seat across from him. “Please."
@melancolialunar
June 14th, 1984. The Lupins’ household.
Severus stepped over the cobblestoned garden path and up the steps in a straight, uninterrupted walk, but as they stopped before the closed door, they hesitated. They were keenly interested to see how the adjusted Wolfsbane fared against the eclipse, and that was what brought them here in the first place, but before they rang the bell to Lupin’s mother’s house, they felt a rush of nerves at what awaited them and what to expect from this visit. The last time they dealt with an eclipse, Severus didn’t see Lupin for nearly a week. And the wolfsbane was completely ineffective then. Now — Severus wanted to see for themself.
They shifted the strap of the work bag against their shoulder, adjusted the pot of hot soup in their hands, took a deep breath that they let out slowly. They rang the doorbell, and waited. ‘ Good to see you’re still alive, ’ Severus greeted dryly. But not dishonestly. ‘ We have a lot of work to do, ’ they lifted the shoulder with the bag strap briefly, shifted their stance, and patted the lid of the steaming pot of chicken soup. Then declared their offering, ‘ I brought food. ’
You’ve got a war in your head And it’s tearing you up inside.
The Waterboys, This Is The Sea (via wnq-quotes)
“it’s not blood; but that doesn’t mean they aren’t family.”
— blood can be thicker than water but that don’t mean shit. (via rp-ask-memes)
I’ve lived too long with pain. I won’t know who I am without it.
Orson Scott Card, Ender’s Game (via larmoyante)
caught in the middle // paramore
don’t feel bad, i’m usually about to die.
It is the destiny of stars to collapse.
Neil deGrasse Tyson, Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyssey (via splitterherzen)
For you, controlling your power is like finding peace.
and behind the mask of m a t u r i t y that you wear, a pair of eyes belonging to a ( CHILD ) stares back at you in the mirror.
you are not a warrior, MY LOVE, you are merely a boy.
they made you into a weapon and told you to find peace
unfinished poems iii // s.z (via mrdcks)
