Crossroads | Marauders

Chapter 27: A Crack in the Armor

— 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟓

        By the time you had fully explained your dreams, the life you thought you led, and dropped the last remaining barrier to the four men in front of you, you couldn't decipher what was going on in their heads while they took a moment to process everything you'd just confessed. The silence was deafening, drumming in your ears like a drill as you looked up at the frown that settled on their faces from where you're seated.

        You sat on one of the dusty armchairs, not trusting yourself to stand as you poured your heart out. Nervously fiddling with the hem of your shirt, a habit you never seem to grow out of, you wanted the moth-eaten chair to swallow you up, hoping somehow you could turn it into a Portkey if you begged hard enough.

        Remus was the first to break the tense silence, "A Maledictus." He simply says, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back on the wooden wall behind him.

        "You're... cursed." Sirius whispers under his breath as he struggles to meet your eyes from the open doorway.

        You couldn't describe the range of emotions that flashed in his eyes in the heart-wrenching seconds that followed. There were so many — hundreds, and then nothing — only utter defeat.

        You could almost hear the sound of your heart dropping to the floor.

        "To turn a swan forever." Peter, who sat next to Remus, adds grimly, avoiding your eyes as his gaze fixated on the dusty floor.

        James violently shakes his head, frustratingly raking both his hands through his hair and turning it into an even bigger mess than it already was, "Fucking hell. And there's no way to—"

        Reluctantly pulling away from Sirius' somber eyes, you cut him off, mustering a small smile despite yourself, "Severus' been helping me find a cure or a way to reverse the curse."

        James blinks back in surprise upon hearing the last person he thought would be involved, "Snivellus?"

        You shoot him a look at the nickname, "Yes." And then you closed your eyes, taking in a deep breath before continuing to defend your friend, "James, as much as you hate him, there's no denying Severus is highly skilled in the Dark Arts."

        "That's why you had a cut in your hand. You went to him." Remus points out as he finally stands up from the floor and remembers the night you came back home with a bandaged hand.

        You nod, "He needed a sample of my blood."

        James scoffs with a smirk and crosses his arms once again, "Wouldn't put it past him to have a blood kink."

        "Prongs, just this once—shut the fuck up." Remus spits, stepping in beside him. As James falls silent at his best friend's sudden assertiveness, Remus turns his attention back to you, the dark in his eyes replaced with the familiar soft ones you've always known, "Has he had any progress?"