a wolf rarely survives alone

Remus J. Lupin. Bit of a mystery. Enjoys howling at the moon and hiding from death eaters.

[lonewolfremus]

Er. Yes. So. Edgar Bones.

[proditorirp]

Oh, I can’t? I have no idea what its like to be isolated. I mean, my entire family wants me dead—or should. Lets not even talk about friends because that’s depressing. I’m living with my brother’s best friend because I have no where else to go. I clearly have no idea what its like to be isolated.

I was heavily burnt, you knew I was doing something with Horcruxes, and you would have had to make the conscious choice not to know about Grimmauld Place. And…you never actually asked me anything that I could understand and answer. You just implied you wanted to know something. If you didn’t know what happened it was your own fault—I spent most of the time thinking that the entire Order, and Sirius, knew where I was and it was all part of a plan I didn’t understand.

I’m pretty sure that’s the vodka.

But—but thats not the point. I was trying to figure out what your thing was.

Like… with Mother—Walburga. She likes feeling under your jaw and the sound of her own voice.

And Bellatrix—she likes the power of it, I think. Like… carving the T in my back. That sort of thing. Its not really about blood or pain.

Sirius said it was “poor judgement” but I’ve tried and I can’t get that to settle. In my head. Because at least with Walburga and Bellatrix—they get something from it but they mean well, too. You didn’t.

[lonewolfremus]

It was a poor choice of words - I'm sorry for implying you knew nothing of isolation. That wasn't my intention. But by deliberately misconstruing what I'm saying, Regulus, you're not helping yourself.

I believe, as I did then, that you know far more than you are or were letting on. Painting yourself as a victim or a martyr may work with your family, but I'm not quite as eager to place you in a box. No one deserves stereotyping.

Is it? Forgive me, I was under the impression my affliction disgusted and horrified you.

My "thing"? My motivation, you mean? Good luck figuring that one out. I'll be sincerely impressed if you manage to sort it out before I do. Oh, I had some hazy notion of maybe taking you to the Order, but in the end I brought Sirius into the picture. Because I - because he is the only person I trust in this world. And he's... my best friend. And your brother. It wasn't my place to decide your fate any longer.

But if it'll soothe you, "poor judgement" sounds apt enough.

[lonewolfremus]

Er. Yes. So. Edgar Bones.

[proditorirp]

I am asking a werewolf who regularly tears his body apart how much he enjoys inflicting pain upon another person—because if you did not then what happened at your flat would have ended much sooner.

I could ask what the wolfish part of you thought but that you, too, isn’t it? Same person, same skin—even if you eat half of it.

[lonewolfremus]

You can't possibly understand, Regulus. I was isolated from the Order. I found you - I found Sirius' brother, hurt and in danger, and I saved you! Then, of course, I had to figure out whether I was going to turn you in, or... Well, I don't know what. And that's what I spent the better half of that month doing: trying to figure things out. 

You never gave me any reason to trust you, if we're discussing the actual... tying up... situation. As far as I knew you were a Death Eater. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm actually quite strongly against your politics. Sorry to disappoint.

This isn't school, Regulus. If I've made you queasy, feel free to leave my company.

[formerlyeddardstark-deactivated]

"Remus dislikes the form of his Patronus, which is a constant reminder of his affliction…he often produces a non-corporeal Patronus deliberately, especially when others are watching."

[lonewolfremus]

Er. Yes. So. Edgar Bones.

[proditorirp]

If you think I find joy anywhere you’d be mistaken.

I think the question is more along the lines of how much did you enjoy it, Remus? Because apparently you knew about the Horcrux and I don’t doubt you knew about Sirius’ home life. Its impossible to justify it as an accident because I’ve tried. So what was your favorite part.

[lonewolfremus]

Regulus - I could say sorry a million times, and it wouldn't come close to healing what scars I've caused you. I am... I would do anything to turn back time.

You're asking a werewolf, someone who regularly tears his body apart, if he enjoyed inflicting pain upon another person? It's not my intention to play "woe is me". And my word means nothing now. But it was a mistake. I'm only - well, not quite human. But I've enough humanity to realize... To realize that what I have done is...

[lonewolfremus]

MOONY (it's the whispers in the back of your mind; the shadow in your peripheral vision; those lupine senses that never quite leave you, even when the moon has long since slid beneath the horizon) // LISTEN

001. intro a recording of wolf howls 002. the wolf fever ray 003. black flies ben howard 004. scalpel blade ohbijou 005. wolf tailor 006. index dead man's bones 007. the woods brighter later 008. werewolf heart gypsy death star

[lonewolfremus]

Er. Yes. So. Edgar Bones.

[proditorirp]

If you actually feel it for someone other than yourself than you’re lying to yourself. 

We could go back to our previous way of communicating. You somewhat implying what you want, me attempting to figure it out because I thought I could buy safety that way. Much easier, wasn’t it?

[lonewolfremus]

You can think what you want, Regulus. It doesn't change the way I feel. Whether or not you ever know how deeply sorry I am seems to be beside the point at this stage. As it is, I feel I can't be much use to you; if you wanted a fight, you'll find no joy here.

[lonewolfremus]

Er. Yes. So. Edgar Bones.

[proditorirp]

Apologizing requires feeling remorse. If you do feel remorse it’s not over what you did to me—its over the response or results of it.

What was the threat, Remus? The wheezing, inability to stand for long periods, or long hours unconsciousness punctuated by panic? It had nothing to do with a wand, I know that.

[lonewolfremus]

If you truly believe me to be void of remorse, there's absolutely no point in having this conversation.

[lonewolfremus]

a loss of innocence ✸ self-para

The death of his mother happens slowly.

It’s been years in the make, like the erosion of rock, or the steady lapping of an ocean tide. Remus would bring her to the beach sometimes, the tracks left by her wheelchair drawing map lines in the grey sand, this expert cartographer dying from the inside out; a flame burning outwards to eventually consume her, limbs curling and eyes fluttering. She’s a small flower, hunched against the Cornish wind.

It’s a blustery day: the sky is riotous, a boiling mass of grey-green storm clouds gathering on the horizon. The slope of her nose is silhouetted in the cold morning light. Her eyelashes are translucent. You’re beautiful, he tells her, and she turns and smiles. Three weeks later she’s lying on a slab of marble, a cut of day-old meat; her mouth is slack. Remus’ father cries for the first time in many years, but Remus does not. There’s this sensation that the roles have been reversed; that he is the parent in this bright new world.

It had been on the cards since Remus turned six. A series of milestones, like a ticker-tape endlessly streaming towards the floor, each spurt of paper a different landmark that they ought to have taken more notice of. Coughing fits, awful dreams, cold sweats, weak knees. She couldn’t get up in the morning sometimes (Remus would bring her coffee, the liquid thin and cheap, and she would sip once and leave it be, thanking him with her watery eyes, too polite to tell her son she hated coffee; hated the taste). After a while, she couldn’t dress herself. Her shoes were a line of soldiers by the wardrobe, battered and old-fashioned, weary from war. When he was little Remus would sink his hands into the high heels, watching them disappear into a cocoon of leather.

It was never said, but always implied, that Remus was too feminine for his father: it was side-long looks, pointed barbs about football, allusions to mud and dirt and other masculine activities. Remus was stationed by his mother, brushing her hair, doing her make up. They were two peas in a pod, two birds on a telephone line. Remus would drag the comb gently through the silvery-blonde strands and look up through the window at the sombre English sun beyond, and his mother would sigh and murmur happily, It’s such a lovely day.

When she dies, she takes all the light from the Lupin household. It’s like her magic is sucked up with her, up into a great vacuum into the clouds, and then it’s just Remus and his builder father, awkward and white-knuckled and too much like strangers to be happy anymore. It’s white-washing an old wall; it’s putting up garish wallpaper. Remus and his father started anew, but her side of the bed is never slept in, and Remus’ father still wears his wedding ring.

His mother started to die slowly, then all at once; but even the years tumbling over themselves, tripping like dominoes, couldn’t alert them to the wall ahead. As they skidded to a halt she leaped and soared up and over, like a seagull on the ocean breeze, until she was nothing but a speck in the flat, washed-out sky, and they were left alone.

[lonewolfremus]

Er. Yes. So. Edgar Bones.

[proditorirp]

At least this one you didn’t tie to your couch, I guess.

[lonewolfremus]

...How many more times do I need apologize, Regulus?

[lonewolfremus]

Er. Yes. So. Edgar Bones.

[hearthofjonesarchive-blog]

I d-doubt people will b-be truly furious with y-you. It’s not like you k-kept it for v-very long, or for m-malicious reasons. If they d-do get angry, then they’re mad.

You two d-didn’t talk m-more often? I w-was never around for the early Order m-meetings, s-so I wouldn’t kn-know. I’m s-sure it’ll all b-be revealed in t-time. 

[lonewolfremus]

I definitely hope so. Still, your optimism is helping a lot. Cheers, Hestia. You should get out more. You might do a lot of good just by being around, y'know?

No, not really. I was close to - to Amelia. His late sister. I don't really know if Order meetings happen anymore. It's too idealistic to say we don't need them. I haven't seen Dumbledore since - yeah.

[lonewolfremus]

Er. Yes. So. Edgar Bones.

[hearthofjonesarchive-blog]

Th-that’s alright, th-then. S-sorry for raising my v-voice at you. You were p-probably the f-first person he c-came to, r-right? I j-just c-can’t believe he’s alive. 

[lonewolfremus]

It's quite alright, Hestia. Honestly, your response will be one of the mildest I'm sure to experience. No harm done in the least.

As far as I'm aware, yeah. I still don't - I'm a bit confused as to... why. But I suppose a dead man can keep some secrets.

[lonewolfremus]

Er. Yes. So. Edgar Bones.

[hearthofjonesarchive-blog]

You kn-knew?

[lonewolfremus]

In a matter of speaking. I only found out... recently. I haven't been hiding him under my bed all this time, or anything.

[themanwhoconquered]

I’m a predator. But I don’t have to be a killer.

[monstrue]

[lonewolfremus]

Er. Yes. So. Edgar Bones.

Saying "surprise" makes me a bit of a wanker, doesn't it?

[mightypadfoot]

step by step ✸ remus/sirius

[mightypadfoot]

Sirius swallowed the delicious moan that he had drawn from Remus, eyes already slipping closed as he focused on the sensation of lips against his own. If any caution had lingered after the initial meeting of mouths, it was entirely gone now. How could he even begin to feel cautious about this, when it felt so particularly right? They barely knew each other like this, besides the drawn out kisses from that fateful afternoon; they shouldn’t fit together as easily as this. Sirius had never fit like this with someone, not straight away.

But maybe that was what made this — the easy slide of their lips, the way his hands fit against Remus’ cheeks, thumbs stroking the skin that he found there — so natural and easy. They knew each other so well in other ways, knew how they liked their tea or their hair, the way that Remus would roll his eyes but mean it fondly, and the way that a lingering hand on a shoulder meant the need for comfort, even if neither of them could voice it. They knew each other well enough that slipping into this, the press of hands and hips and chests, was as easy as breathing.

Which Sirius almost forgot to do when Remus’ hands tightened on his waist, pressing him back against the door frame. He let out a groan of his own as their bodies slotted together, Remus’s form falling into place against his own. One hand slipped to the back of the other’s neck, pulling him in closer, even as their bodies pushed together, even as Remus pulled back to speak. Sirius felt the words more than he heard them, but he understood the sentiment. It was more than hello and this moment. “Me too,” he said softly, but his lips were soon quirking up into a smirk as their foreheads pressed together.

"I want to say hello all the time," he said, voice laced with his intentions, and he ducked his head to draw a kiss from Remus’ lips. "And goodbye," he kissed him again, longer this time. "And everything else." Another kiss, lingering for far longer this time. Sirius hadn’t let go of Remus’ face this whole time, his thumbs smoothing over cheekbones and the line of his jaw. He wanted to touch forever, to press and kiss, and there was that urge to mark and claim again, but he had come here for a reason. Well, more than one reason, and the door frame was starting to dig into his back, a distraction from the brilliant man in front of him.

Sirius pulled his head back, feeling the dull thump as it hit the door frame. He was already breathing heavily, eyes dark with clouded lust, but he couldn’t help the way his gaze swept over Remus’ face, quick at first, and then again, slowly. His friend’s lips were already red from their kisses, eyes almost as dark as he imagined his own to be, his face red in a way that made Sirius want to drag his lips all over it.

"You’ve distracted me, Moony," he said, all cheek. "Don’t remember what I came here for."

[lonewolfremus]

Remus once remembered reading about chaos theory.

This was chaotic. It was chaotic and beautifully orchestrated all at once - the feel of Sirius' hair tangling between his fingers; that heady smell of cinnamon, rain, and smoke; the sweet taste of the mouth beneath his own. Things like this didn't just happen. And that was the point of chaos theory - that the future was dictated by the present, but the present did not necessarily dictate the future. Whatever gossamer-fragile thing that hovered between their heated bodies tip-toed the line of inevitable and just for now. The longer Sirius was against him; the longer Remus drank as if he were dying of thirst, the more apparent it became that this was rapidly hurtling towards something utterly life-altering; something that would throw them wildly off-track in ways they had only dreamed about before. Remus' world swam shallowly, like sunlight dappling through green-blue water, and he felt invincible.

Sirius' voice was low, their intention simple and beautiful and painful all at once. It made Remus want to rip out his heart and offer it still beating; that thought was Moony's, the wolf lurking perpetually in the back of his mind. But even that lupine shadow couldn't dampen the overwhelming bursting, bubbling, boiling lava-hot feeling in his stomach. Every inch of his body was aflame. Closing his eyes as if drunk, he concentrated extremely had on catching his breath. The conscious effort to stop that stream of words - IreallythinkIloveyouSirius - from filling the space in which their breaths mingled. Instead he merely pressed their foreheads together once more before pulling away sharply, unable to clear his innermost thoughts from flashing across his gaze.

It took an embarrassingly long moment to reclaim his voice. And when he did speak, the tone was thoroughly kiss-bruised and hoarse; Remus couldn't stop grinning sheepishly. "Nor can I," he admitted. 

Eyes ducking, Remus reached out to rest his hands on Sirius' hips, feeling the provocative jut of bone under his thumbs. "I know we should be... discussing more important things," Remus commented after a moment, glancing up to pin their gaze together. "But I'm not entirely sure I'm capable of coherent thought." Pressing his lips into a crooked smile, Remus stepped back, at once play-acting at flirtation and hesitatingly sincere.

Nodding at the open doorway, he took a few steps back into the hallway of his apartment, keeping their eyes locked. "Would you like to come in, Mr Padfoot?" Though his tone was facetious, Remus definitely did a poor job of hiding the residual hum of desire that sang along his skin.

[acciodignity]