From ch 12 of The Lionheart
Prior to this, Remus considered himself a person well acquainted with hardships. But never in a million years would he think he would end up here, in a Black family estate with two friends who’d narrowly escaped death; one friend who had been incarcerated for their murder; a traitor; and a reformed Death Eater. He was still struggling to come to terms with the ordeal, but memories didn’t lie. They could be altered, and sure, Sirius could have retrieved the memories from a dream sequence, but all magic was infallible; if the memories had been from a dream, they would have been hazy, like someone had drawn a veil over them.
Oddly, Regulus being alive was the most digestible piece of information. He was wry and sarcastic, and seemed to share a perfect blend of Sirius and Remus’ humor. Regulus’ sudden proclivity towards all things Muggle was slightly harder to swallow, but Remus figured anything was possible now. Besides, it wasn’t sudden. It had been two years since Regulus was declared dead, two years since that headline that nearly broke Sirius.
Every witch and wizard knew about Azkaban, especially in today's political climate. To imagine that Sirius had been sent there for a crime he didn’t even commit, tormented by dementors for two months, only finding reprieve as a dog, was unconscionable. And for Regulus, of all people, to be the only one to bother rescuing him, dug a hollow pit in Remus’ stomach. He hadn’t believed in Sirius’ innocence, because Sirius hadn’t believed in his. Prior to this, Remus liked to believe that he and Sirius would always trust each other. That they were more.
How foolish. Remus swallowed bitterly, shaking his head to clear it. He was in his assigned room, the Embroidered Bed Chamber. Merlin and Morgana. Remus had never stayed anywhere that named its bedrooms, and for the umpteenth time, marvelled at how incredible it was that Sirius had grown up in such luxury. Sure, he knew what a big deal it was to be a Black. He knew, like one knew that the sky was blue, that the Blacks were one of the richest families in the wizarding world, with toeholds in almost every other major wizarding family. He knew that they held Lordships, knew that Sirius was ridiculously wealthy, and knew that the flat they lived in, which once belonged to Sirius’ uncle Alphard, was a very nice piece of property. But he hadn’t believed Sirius when he told him it was modest. Remus didn’t see how it could be. The furniture looked all handcarved, and the linens silk and robes velvet.
Now, seeing Houghton Hall, sleeping in one of its rooms, Remus felt slightly queasy. It was an estate meant for royalty, nobility, and for the first time, Remus was able to reconcile what it had meant for Sirius to be heir to one of the oldest, richest, most powerful wizarding families in Britain.
Regulus was still out, and Remus had retired to his room, resigning himself to sorting through the shelves and magical artifacts. He was a nester, and until he got some of his things from home, he would have to settle for reorganizing the items he had at his disposal. He was currently sorting the artifacts by order of size, and his hand had just closed around what looked like a solid gold pocket watch, when a burning, searing pain spread across his palm and shot up his arm. Lurching backwards and dropping the pocket watch in one go, Remus cradled his hand to his chest, eyes stinging and stomach churning.
Within moments, Sirius was bursting through the door, wand half-raised. When he noticed the pocket watch on the ground, he swore and came to Remus’ side.
“It’s disguised goblin-wrought silver. My Great-Great Uncle Phineas’.”
Remus’ head spun. His arm positively throbbed.
“The werewolf hunter?” he asked through gritted teeth. Sirius nodded apologetically.
“The very one.” He called for Kreacher. “Get the cooling salve from the apothecary,” he instructed. “Bring it right here, quick. And some of Regulus’ chocolate. I’ll order more for him. Consider it an early birthday gift.”
Sirius led Remus to sit on the bed and helped to roll up his sleeve, breath hitching at how far the burn spread.
“Shit, Moony, you’re gonna have to take your shirt off. It’s spread all the way up to your bicep.”
“I hate your family,” Remus managed, unable to do much as Sirius unbuttoned his shirt for him. He hissed, a wave of dizziness washing over him as he withdrew his arm from his sleeve, the fabric brushing harshly against the burn.
Kreacher appeared a moment later, salve in hand. Sirius wasted no time in popping the lid open and dipping his fingers in. As soon as the salve was spread over his skin, Remus moaned in relief. It must have sounded downright filthy, as the tips of Sirius’ ears turned pink. Remus couldn’t bring himself to care, head lolling forward, letting the relief soothe him.
“I’m so sorry,” Sirius was rambling. “I should have thought to go through each of the rooms to weed out cursed objects and the like.”
“You got a lot of those lying around?”
“You’d be surprised,” Sirius muttered darkly. Remus shivered, and it was only partly due to the cooling salve.
“My family,” Sirius argued. “My responsibility.” It was the same logic that had driven Sirius to join the Order.
“Maybe,” Remus conceded. “But that still doesn’t make it your fault.”
Sirius huffed what might have been a laugh.
“How’s it feeling?” he asked, referring to Remus’ arm. He flexed his hand experimentally, tension loosening when he found the pain to be minimal.
“I’ll live,” he joked. Sirius’ soured slightly.
“Don’t joke about that,” he said. “I need you, Moony. You aren’t allowed to die.” Remus softened, unable to stop himself.
“I’ll do my best,” he promised. “But only if you say the same.” Sirius’ lip quirked.
“Do you think so little of me, Remus?” he asked, eyes twinkling. “Regulus is the self-sacrificial one.” Remus chuckled.
“You and I both know it’s a familial trait.”
“Must have skipped all the other generations,” Sirius said. “Saddled me and Reggie with it all.”
“Our ancestors are rarely kind,” Remus said, a small smile playing at lips. Sirius returned it fully.
“You mean like Great-Great Uncles who try to incapacitate your mates?”
“Exactly like that. How did you know?”
“Just a hunch,” Sirius reached for Remus’ uninjured hand and gave it a small squeeze. “You’ll probably have to reapply the salve over the next few days, I’m sorry.”
Remus shrugged half-heartedly.
“What’s a few more scars?”
“Remus Lupin, resident badass.”
