𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 [𝐣.𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫]

10: 𝔟𝔩𝔲𝔢, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔯 𝔬𝔣 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡 𝔡𝔬𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫

Eventually, he felt a hand on his forearm, a gentle reminder that the other boys had remained with him.

"Stop that, please," James whispered, his eyes clenched shut. He hated how privileged he was, how easy he had it whilst Remus went through undeserving pain night after night. He would've given his inheritance to trade places with his friend, the boy who'd been beaten down by the world and chose to stand up again.

He could sense Remus's frustration as he scoffed. "Go away, James."

This was followed with silence, none of the boys brave enough to bring up his cracking voice. It was easier that way, to pretend like it was all some grand adventure they partook in, just four rowdy boys with the ability to transform into animals.

It was easier to romanticize the pain than to reveal the full extent of his injuries.

Deny, deny, deny, until you can't any longer. Until the blood seeps through your fingers, slick as water, and you're counting all the breaths you have left. Pretend like there's a light at the end of the tunnel, that it's just another trek to glory. Deny that you're drowning in the world, the very fibers of your existence begging to be set free.

That had been his life for as long as he remembered. He knew there had been a time before it all, A Rose Period where he grinned, jaw unclenched, his eyes soft, skin unblemished. There had been a time when Lyall and Hope had creaseless faces, unmarred by concern and regret. There had been a time when happiness was everywhere. Like Picasso's paintings, free, optimistic, untethered.

The saccharine juice of peaches, sticking to his fingers and cheeks, Hope's laughter as she watched him pretend to read her old poetry books, not knowing the text was upside-down. Lyall, kissing his wife on the cheek as he pretended to enjoy Remus's fifth birthday casserole that had been burnt to a crisp. Next time, he'd said, leaning back to loosen his tie, you leave the cooking to me.

But there hadn't been a next time, for after the cake had been cut and doled out, after the neatly wrapped presents had been torn open, after smiles were exchanged and he was tucked in carefully, they'd heard a scream.

Then horror, as they saw his white sheets dyed scarlet. Their child screaming at the harrowing sight of Fenrir Greyback. Then it was nonstop pain for the next few months, St. Mungo's tea fueling their mind, urging them to stay awake, because the last time they'd closed their eyes, tragedy struck. Then came the agony, as they bound their baby in shackles to prevent him from running loose.

That was the end of an era of roses.

Now, he drowned in the blue, somber and wary of the world. A sea, waves crashing against him violently until he drowned, last breaths gurgled and choking. There was only so long he could stay afloat, limbs burning with effort as he treaded the vicious waters.

It would be blue until the very end.

********

TW: Depressive thoughts. Please be kind to yourself!! :)))

He screamed, strangled sobs leaking out of his chest. The boys were still there. They would see him like this, weak and useless, a dying creature waiting to be put down.

Sirius couldn't tear his eyes away, his jaw set as he watched him cry. His whole body was tense, and he gently reached out to touch Remus's forearm. The two both jerked away, flinching under the flesh contact. Like Sirius's skin had been woven with silver, and Remus's hands had been replaced by Walburga's. Under kinder circumstances, this gesture would've been beautiful. Here, it was terrifying, predatorial.

Remus coughed and choked as his organs realigned. What sort of luck was it, that after every transformation, he survived? What could possibly be the chances of life in this dingy old shack, tearing himself open? He shouted at them all, his voice harsh but his words clear.