Fic: I Need to Trust Me (3/?)
Title: If You Want to Survive
Rating: PG-13
Words: ~2,900
Warnings: References to past sexual abuse
Summary: Remus is deals with no small amount of stress over the repercussions of Friday night and is still trying to decipher what Sirius' actions mean.
Disclaimer: None of the characters in the story (other than Kia) belong to me. No profit of any sort is being made off of this.
Prequel || Chapter One || Chapter Two || Chapter Three || Chapter Four
A/N2: Sorry about the lack of systematic updates. I'm horrible for just putting the story out there when I'm in to mood. When I started publishing this one, I had intended to put up one chapter every five days or so. But...no. It has to be this way.
Sweetheart,
How are you doing? I hope the last full moon wasn't too hard for you. I was up all night worrying about you and hoping you wouldn't hurt yourself too bad. Poppy owled me the other day and told me to ask you about the night after - she didn't state any specifics, but she seemed worried. What happened, honey? She's got me pacing with nerves. You know you can talk to me about anything, right? Your father has been working harder than usual recently and I think he is concerned about you, too. I'm sure he is, Remus.
Are you studying for your NEWTs? I know it's only November, but it's never too soon to prepare for your future. I know it's not fair but you're going to have to rely a lot more on your smarts than most people will - you've got to give yourself an edge.
I hope you'll come home for Christmas this year. Your aunt Ida is coming to visit and she'd love to see you. But I understand if you want to stay at the school with your friends. I know you said Sirius is living with James now, but please let him know that he's more than welcome to come over for a bit if he'd like a change of scenery.
I should go know, there's a lot to do here. I love you and miss you more every day.
Love,
Mum
P.S. Enjoy the cookies!
***
Remus folds the letter and holds in it his lap. He had been in the common room, sitting with Lily in front of the fire, when Zian, his owl, flew through a window, presumably let in by someone else, with a letter from his mother. Remus runs his hands over the parchment and glares at the tin of cookies on the table in front of him. He sighs and flicks his eyes up to the dying fire. He feels the sofa dip as Lily adjusts her position, tucking her feet under the cushion upon which he is seated. She is reading her Arithmancy textbook while they wait for Sirius and James to return form detention. She lets out an exaggerated sigh and closes her book with a loud thump. "When do you think they'll be back?" she asks, more to start a conversation than in search of a specific answer. Remus squints at her, hating himself for keeping secrets from her. He can't bring himself to burden her with the events of Friday night, and he knows that she senses it and is becoming frustrated with the growing distance between them.
"Not sure," he says, lifting his hips to push the letter into his pocket. "Filch'll keep them as late as he can, that's for sure." Peter is out with a girl and Remus isn't sure who it is that he's waiting up for but Lily reopens her book when she senses that Remus has nothing more to say. Without anything to keep his mind from it, Remus leans forward and takes a cookie from the tin, biting into the soft chocolate of it before pulling the letter from his pocket and unfolding the parchment to re-read it. His eyes rake over the words that are scrawled in his mother's neat, tiny handwriting and even though he doesn't want to read the letter anymore, he really doesn't want to go to bed yet, either. His stomach turns at the thought of replying to it, he isn't sure how much he can keep from her and still feel like he's telling the truth. He feels a burning sense of anger towards Madam Pomfrey for saying anything to his mum at all - she doesn't need the extra stress - but the truth is, he had known that the woman was going to tell her from the beginning. Remus isn't sure how much Madam Pomfrey really said to his mother, and he doesn't want to lie to her anyways. He can lie about many things to most people, but not his mum. Never his mum.
It feels like he's only just started composing his letter to his mum in his head when Remus is awoken by a rather loud and boisterous pair of raven haired boys elbowing each other as they tumble through the portrait hole, a tangle of limbs and robes that smell distinctly of stale water. Remus blinks the sleep from his eyes and shakes Lily awake before bending to grab the letter from where it has fallen to the floor and ram it quickly in his pocket. He isn't sure why, but he doesn't want Sirius or James to see it. A small, irritating voice in the very back of his mind tells him that it's because he knows they would both think he should tell his mum about what happened, but he ignores this voice and turns instead to the boys who are dusting off their robes as they make their way over. James bends to kiss Lily and Remus and Sirius watch each other awkwardly until the pair is done. "What did Filch make you do?" Lily asks with a grimace as she pulls her feet out from under Remus. "You two smell awful."
Sirius shrugs his robes off and drops them to the floor before falling on the sofa, filling the spot that Lily's legs have only just vacated. He drapes an arm around Remus' shoulder and Remus tries not to think anything of it. "Myrtle blasted the pipes again. We had to clean her bathroom : no magic."
James nods and groans. "We're of age, it shouldn't be up to him-"
Lily interrupts James' tirade with a tight smile. "You would think that Head Boy wouldn't get quite so many detentions, wouldn't you?"
James shrugs, setting himself on the arm of the couch and leaning into Lily. "What can I say? Not everyone found it as easy to believe I was a changed man as you did. And they still want to blame me for crimes of which I am utterly innocent. Utterly."
Lily snorts and rises from the couch so quickly that James falls a little and has to catch himself. "I might have believed you if you hadn't added that second 'utterly'. I'm going to bed now - goodnight, all." And she walks away without waiting for James' reply.
"Well, I'm going to bed, too," James says before stalking off sulkily towards the boy's dormitory.
Sirius looks sideways at Remus and grins cheekily, although the smile is missing some of its usual edge. "What are we going to do with our stolen time?"
"Aren't you tired after cleaning up all that mess?" Remus asks, although he's not sure if Sirius understands him, because it all comes out with a yawn. Remus doesn't bother covering his mouth because Sirius is busy adjusting his trousers.
"I guess I am, a little, yeah. But I never get to spend time with just you, Moony." He grins and slithers to the floor where he promptly situates himself between Remus' legs, elbowing the boy's calves gently so that there is enough space for him. "Want to give me a massage?" He shakes his head in what he clearly intends to be an enticing gesture. "Only, I'm awfully sore from all of that mopping."
Remus cracks his knuckles but doesn't touch Sirius' shoulders. "What are you going to do for me in return?" he asks, teasing Sirius' nape with his nimble fingers.
"Anything you want. Come on, Moony, please?" He turns his head to stare, pleading, over his shoulder at Remus. "Please?"
"Will you…write my potions essay that's due next week?" He kneads gently at the heated flesh without waiting for an answer. Sirius groans at Remus' ministrations and nods his head. Remus presses harder into the knots of muscle and begins to work at massaging away Sirius' aches. As he's working the flesh beneath his fingers, he focuses on where the muscle is tightest - needs the most attention - easing the knots away, without causing Sirius too much pain. Someone who didn't know Remus might think that Sirius was being selfish, asking Remus for a massage when Remus was so worried about so many things. But in reality, performing the simple massage takes Remus' mind off of himself and lets him focus on something other than Severus and what has been done to him. It's the most relaxed he's felt all weekend.
"My mum wrote me," he says suddenly, unsure of why he's confiding in Sirius when only moments before he tried to conceal the letter from him.
"Mmm," Sirius says, his voice languid in his relaxed state. "What'd she say?"
"Said she was worried about me at the full. And asked for me to come home for Christmas. She invited you over, too. If you want." He shrugs his shoulders even though Sirius can't see him. "You don't have to, though. Just an invite."
"I know," Sirius says, sitting forward a little so that he can crane his neck and look at Remus. "Did she say anything about…?"
"She said Madam Pomfrey told her that something happened. She wants me to talk to her about it." He scratches the back of his own neck before pinching the bridge of his nose. "I want to tell her, but I don't really know how to say it, not in a letter. And I don't know what to tell her. How much."
"Well, I think you should-" But Remus never gets to find out what it is that Sirius thinks, because at that point, Peter bursts through the portrait hole, breathing heavily.
"Remus, Professor Dumbledore wants to see you. Straight away."
***
"Mr. Lupin, please, take a seat." Professor Dumbledore gestures to one of the chairs sitting in front of his desk, which he is currently seated behind. The man looks remarkably tired and Remus wonders why it is that he has bothered to call him for a conversation so late in the evening, but he nods carefully and sits obediently in the more comfortable looking chair. He watches Professor Dumbledore, unsure of what he should say. Fawkes, his phoenix, is sitting quietly on his perch behind the man and Remus can tell the bird has only just been reborn recently - he is not yet up to the great size that he was when Remus first met him, at the age of 11.
"Sir…did you want something?" Remus isn't sure how to instigate the conversation without sounding rude.
Dumbledore clears his throat and runs his hand over his beard. "Madam Pomfrey gave me some…disturbing news when I returned to the castle
tonight." Remus swallows but stares, trying not to let his face betray the dread currently fluttering in his throat. "Something about you."
"Oh?" Remus manages to croak, fingers pressing into the fabric of his corduroys.
"Yes, and she asked me to speak with you about it. She said that you refused to tell her anything." Remus blinks fiercely and glances around the room, desperate for something to take his mind away from the Hell Dumbledore has brought him to. He focuses on Fawkes who is preening his red wings, so oblivious to and free from the conversation taking place right in front of him. "Would you like to tell me what happened on Friday night, Remus?"
"I…" Remus looks urgently out the window, hoping that something will save him from the humiliation of telling his headmaster about how weak he was. He wipes aggressively at his face and is angry to feel the wetness of tears there - he promised himself on Saturday that he wasn't going to give Severus the benefit of tears, even if Severus would never know either way. "I would rather not."
"I was informed that you suffered injuries that are most often related to ra-"
"Please don't say it," Remus whispers, voice catching in his throat. He finally looks at Dumbledore and is horrified to see the man staring almost into him. He flicks his eyes away, unable to continue keeping eye contact with him. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Remus, if there is someone in my school who has committed such a crime -"
"I don't know who it was!" Remus says suddenly, angrily, sticking to lie that he, James, Peter and Sirius had all agreed to. There was no way that they could implicate Severus without revealing the map and even though the other boys had been willing to lose the map just to see Severus punished, Remus had denied them. The entire situation is painful enough without his Professors knowing who it is that has done such a thing to him. He rises quickly from the chair. "I don't know who did it, because they were disguised as someone else."
"Who?" Dumbledore asks quietly, choosing not to comment on Remus' uncharacteristic outburst. "Who were they disguised as?"
Remus' face crumples as the images from Friday night flash back in a way he has not allowed himself to remember them yet. He covers his tears with his hands but cannot hide the gasping from his Professor. He drops to sit on the chair but misses it and falls painfully to the stone floor, letting his feet fall out from beneath him. "I don't want to talk about it," he cries piteously and he hates himself for letting anyone see him in such a mess. Remus Lupin has always prided himself on being a strong person, and it has been a long time since anyone has watched him cry so unabashedly. Dumbledore doesn't say anything for what feels like at least half an hour until Remus has wept himself dry. The boy wipes his face with his sleeve and sniffs a few times before rising to situate himself in the chair once more. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice hoarse. "But I just…don't want to remember."
The old man rests his chin carefully upon his clasped hands and looks at Remus, studying him thoughtfully. "I cannot force you to discuss something with me if you don't wish to. But I implore you to find someone with whom you can discuss this, because Remus…just by not thinking about it, you will not make this go away. And it is going to eat at you until you handle it in a healthy manner." He sighs and closes his eyes for a moment. "I think that is all for now," the man says, politely giving Remus his leave to exit the office. "I will ensure that you are not stopped on your way back to the common room. Have a good night, Remus."
Remus nods, even though both of them know that he won't have a good night now. He is numb as he makes his slow way back to the Fat Lady's portrait, his mind blank as he climbs the stairs to his dormitory and pushes open the door. He is so unfocused, he doesn't notice that Sirius is sitting up in bed, watching him quietly as he undresses and slides under his covers in his shorts. And so he is startled when Sirius' quiet whisper travels across the small space between their beds. "What did he want?" he asks, even though he knows full well what Dumbledore wanted.
"What do you think he wanted, Sirius?" Remus mumbles, trying to get comfortable against his pillow; it feels stiff and awkward underneath of his head, which is starting to ache from the earlier bout of crying.
"What did you tell him?" Sirius murmurs, still more quietly.
"Nothing. I…Nothing. He told me that I should find someone to talk to about it." Remus can see the outline of Sirius' hair moving as he nods his head.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks, rising from his bed and making his way over to Remus'. Remus looks up at his friend, unsure of what his answer will be and a great, unwelcome and all too familiar sense of dread fills him. During the day, he can see Sirius' eyes and his smile and smell him and he knows that the boy brushing against him or gripping his shoulder or begging for a massage is not the same boy who hurt him. But in the nighttime, it is dark and the form lingering over him while he lies bedraggled and broken in his bed is so much like the one that broke him in the first place.
"No, Sirius," he says, forcing a calm that he doesn't feel. "Just go to bed. I don't need to talk about it."
"Are you sure?" A hand reaches to brush his face in a friendly gesture, but Remus shies away from it and Sirius snaps his hand back, quickly aware of his friend's discomfiture. "Shit, I'm sorry. Lumos," he murmurs, lighting his wand so that Remus can see his face, because even though Remus never said anything about needing to see his face, Sirius just seems to know. He always just seems to know. "Better?" Remus nods and moves over so that Sirius can sit on the edge of his mattress. With Sirius so close, he can smell the musk of the boy and feels himself drowning in the safety that comes with it. He closes his eyes and settles against his pillow. He is almost asleep when he feels Sirius lie down next to him, body close and warm against his own, knees bumping into knees, hot breath on his face. "Want to talk about it now?"
"I'm sleeping, Sirius." He really does fall asleep, but not before he feels a strong arm falling over his chest.