Carve Me Open / r.l. + s.b. /

Don't Ask Me When, But Ask Me Why

"Seems a bit excessive," Sirius finally said with a scoff. "Isn't your mum a Muggle? What could she do?"

Remus shrugged, uncoiling from the bedsheets and stiffening his posture, "We had a gun at the house. I suppose they thought that and the wards around the house would be enough." A lapse in conversation ensued, neither boy knowing what to say or where to look. This part of the story always left a foul taste in his mouth, like bile. "I was coming back from taking a piss when my mom came running through the hall like she'd gone mad.

"I'd never seen her like that before. Her face was red, and she was sweating, and she kept telling me not to leave my room without telling her. And that's when I saw him coming up behind her."

"Who," Sirius seemed slightly more interested in the story now, seated on the edge of his chair and hands balled into tight fists.

"Dad called him Greyback," Remus sighed, noting the shift in the expression on Sirius's face. If Remus didn't know any better, he'd say that name rung a bell to Sirius. But, unfortunately, it wasn't his information to go prying for, though it did send a chill down his back. "I never got a good look at his face. One second he was a few feet away from me, then boom. I was on the ground, blood pouring out of my neck, and he was gone."

Sirius stared, mouth agape and eyes wide with disbelief, as Remus finished his story. The latter hung his head with shame, somehow guilty of this crime and its consequences at the same time. Yet, rationally, Remus knew that this wasn't his fault. It took plenty of convincing on his part, but there's no way he could've escaped Greyback—a heaping ton of muscle and meat that had a death note for his family.

He was only five.

"When you take a bite victim to St. Mungo's, you have two options," Remus exhaled. "Put them down –" Sirius tensed "—or tag them."

Sirius scrunched his face in bewilderment, "What do you mean, tag them?"

Remus sighed, shaking his head with an unamused smile stretched across his face.

"Just a way for them to treat us like animals, I guess," he growled, furrowing his eyebrows darkly. Sirius scooted his chair closer to Remus's bedside, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders.

"I don't think you're an animal," he admitted bashfully. "I mean, yeah, you... change once a month, but it's only temporary."

"No, it isn't," Remus replied hotly, suddenly upset with Sirius's nonchalance. "I'll never get rid of this disease; I'm stuck with it. Forever. All because I went to take a piss."

"No," Sirius admonished. "You don't know what could have happened had you stayed in your room. He might have killed you!"

"Sometimes I think that would be better –"

Sirius jerked Remus's chin head so that he looked him dead in the eyes. A fire ignited deep within the pit of Remus's stomach, spreading through his veins and warming his body. Sirius hated when Remus said such things about himself – hated it. Reviled it. He wanted to do anything to stop it.

"Don't you ever say that," he barked. "Ever. Do you understand me?" A storm brewed in his eyes, a dangerous storm that Remus had never wanted to be caught in. He felt his cheeks flush as Sirius's face was a mere inch from his, fingers still clasped around his chin so that he could not break eye contact. All Remus could manage was a nod, at a loss for words. "You told me to give more credit to myself, yeah? Do the fucking same."

"Don't say that word," Remus corrected his friend on reflex, unaware that there was a time and a place for such corrections. Sirius dangerously lowered his brows, a threat. A warning. "Sorry."