Descend - Wolfstar + Marauders

A Lack of Understanding

Remus woke with a start. As he opened his eyes, he felt a dagger driving into his brain. He groaned, clutching his head.

His whole body ached. It felt terribly heavy and aged. His mouth felt dry and his throat scratchy. The comedown after a coke fueled night was never a fun time. Good thing he had a great hangover cure handy.

Oh no.

Flashes of the night were playing in his mind. It was all coming back to him. Fuzzy, with some gaps, but clear enough.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

“Fuck!” he yelled into his hands, muffling the sound.

“Good morning, dear,” said a prim, feminine voice.

Remus lowered his hands and pried his eyes open, squinting a little against the light. A very well groomed, older woman with slightly pinched features stood above him. Though she was clearly looking at him with undisguised judgment, her eyes also held certain fondness.

“Good morning Mrs Pettigrew,” he rasped.

“Peter is in the dining room with breakfast,” she offered kindly, taking in his wrinkled outfit from the day before and the dark bags under his eyes. He'd always been a bit of a worry, that one, but he was so polite, even as a teenager. Not like the other boys from their group who were far too loud for her liking. Peter told her he'd been in a horrible accident as a child, so it was hard not to have sympathy.

She walked away as Remus got himself off the living room couch, feeling his bare feet hit the cold wooden floor. Someone must have taken his shoes off. He walked slowly in the direction of the dining room, his joints protesting heavily with every step.

When he rounded the corner, he saw Peter dressed in his neatly pressed work robes, sipping on a cup of coffee with a Daily Prophet unfolded in front of him. They always made fun of James and Lily for being so grown up, but he thought in that moment that they really let Peter slide for being basically an old man sometimes.

Peter looked up at him with a very strained smile as Remus sat down in front of the untouched plate that had been set for him. He ignored the food, reaching straight for the coffee.

“What time is it?” he asked Peter.

“About half seven. I’ll be off soon, but you’re welcome to stay as long as you need.”

He nodded. He took a long sip of coffee.

“Why am I in your home?” he asked after a while.

“You don’t remember?” Peter asked. Remus shook his head. “How much of last night do you recall?” he inquired uncomfortably.

Remus looked down at the table, the familiar feeling of shame pooling in his gut.

“Most of it. I remember… I know what happened. It all goes dark a little after that, though.”

“Oh,” said Peter, relieved that he didn’t need to explain the worst of it. “Well, you needed help getting home, you were in a bit of a state. Sirius wasn’t really up for looking after you, given the circumstances, not to mention he was rather intoxicated himself” he said in that formal way he spoke when he was feeling awkward. “We thought it best you came here.”

Remus thought that was an incredibly polite way of saying Sirius wanted him out of his sight. Who could blame him.

Remus sat with Peter until he left for work, but they didn’t speak further. Peter seemed nervous in his presence. Overly polite, overly courteous. The way he would speak to a co-worker, not a lifelong friend. That was probably fair. He would have thought it fair if Peter had left him to pass out in a gutter.