Remus & Peter || Impromptu Rebellion
Date: May 21, 1978 Location: Hogsmeade Inspiration: Royals- Lorde
“I hate you. I hate you so much. I don't believe in a hell but I hope it exists solely for you. I want you to suffer having your skin peeled from your body every waking moment. I want you to suffer the sight of your mother devoured by a pack of wolves every hour. If I happen to run into you at some sort of high-brow, eclectic mishmash convention for werewolves and you're like ‘haha, yeah I totally bit you,’ I'm going to break my beer bottle and stab you in the eye. Then I'm going to literally eat my way to your liver. And then, while you crawl away, begging for mercy from horrified onlookers, I'm going to set you on fire. You're a terrible sub-human being and you deserve so much misery.”
Remus glanced up from his journal, green eyes darkened from spoken thoughts. A half-smirk pulled on his lips as he watched Peter from beneath his brows, feeling marginally better for sharing private ideas to one of his closest.
“Stupid, yeah? I don’t know,” Remus exhaled into his filled-to-the-brim butterbeer, sipping quickly before holding it just in front of his face, white foam sticking to his upper lip before he licked it away. “Reckon sometimes writing it out helps. Wonder if-- slicing him open... would help more. Been having these increasingly dark thoughts lately. Makes me think that joining the Cause is the only path for me.”
Not to mention the obvious. He would never get a job. These thoughts clouded his every move for the months approaching graduation; but he spoke not of his all-consuming anxieties to any of his mates as each precious moment ticked by. It was always jokes and fun with James and Sirius and though he knew he could tell them anything, Remus never wanted to drag James down. He didn’t want to add to Sirius’s burdens, though he knew both would insist otherwise. They would tell him repeatedly that he could tell them anything, that they wouldn’t judge, and he knew that as truth. He felt guilty for keeping gruesome secrets; it was his worst curse. But with Peter, it was always like this because a part of him felt less guilty about burdening the eager Peter Pettigrew.
“Fuck, Peter, butterbeer’s not doing it this time,” Remus complained, scrunching up his nose. “What about you, mate? Lay your burdens on me ‘cause Merlin knows the two clowns we call best mates--” What, Remus? Going to talk about your best friends, now? He shrugged. “I just hate to put it on them, y’know? Don’t reckon Potter could understand really and Sirius...” he trailed off. It was always different with Sirius, but he couldn’t quite explain why. He sighed and shrugged, nodding to Peter to speak. “You been a miserable fuck like me or what?”
