Bend & Break.
ooc: A bit delayed, but this is Remus' reaction to his best friends/brothers being taken by Carrow. Takes place after this; the night before this.
Cut for some language and length.
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For most of his life Remus Lupin has heard the worst things about dark creatures. He has gotten accused for atrocities that he might cause because of all the chaos that dark creatures create, and for most of his life he has tried to prove it all wrong. He has been able to control that beast within him, that dark creature that is capable of all those horrible things.
But everyone has their limits. Everyone has that point of no return, including soft-spoken, usually-kind Remus Lupin.
This war has managed to push him to an edge more than once already, and just when he figures he cannot possibly be pushed anymore he is proven wrong. And the thing is, if you push and push and push, there is bound to be a reaction. The wolf is bound to growl at the very least; it is bound to lash out.
Lily. Dumbledore. Harry. Scorpius. Teddy. Albus Severus. James. Sirius.
So many of their own. So many more that are innocent. How many more until it ends? Who would be next?
Dora.
The name echoes in his mind before he even finishes the question, and his stomach lurches in a way that almost makes him be sick. Which would be close to impossible, considering he has barely eaten, but the feeling is there anyway as he continues walking towards the room of requirement.
It's darkness what surrounds him as soon as he makes his way into the room, muttering protection charms as a precaution. The darkness is only interrupted by a pale light coming from above him, but he doesn't look up to know what it is. He had asked for it, after all.
For the first time in decades he wants a full moon, and this is as close to one as he can get.
As he stands under the moonlight no transformation occurs, and part of him is actually disappointed. There's no shift in his body from one form to another. There are no broken bones, no sudden howl that will erupt from his throat even if he does feel the struggle within him that has been going on ever since he found out the news.
How many more times is he supposed to watch his friends get hurt? How many more times is he supposed to lose them?
Not again not again not again I can't lose them again Merlin not again not again I can't do this again...
A voice in his head reminds him that they aren't dead. They aren't gone. Harry had said they were alive and he has to trust that until he can make sure for himself that it's true. Despite that voice, though, the mind is a tricky thing and no amount of logic has been able to keep away the images that play and replay in his head. James' grave site. Sirius going through the veil. Seeing them again and then losing them again each time Carrow shows up in his thoughts. He still doesn't know the details of what his friends are going through but his imagination has been doing a bloody fantastic job at producing images for him. Blood. Pain. Torture. He knows what Carrow has done; what else is he supposed to expect? And he sees them, and he imagines all of it, and each time he does so something in him unhinges. It's his sanity, perhaps, breaking away as helplessness, fear and anger collide violently within him.
But he doesn't ignore it, any of it. He makes no attempt to, because it's so much much easier to handle that mixture of emotions rather than facing the terror of possible loss again. So he takes those feelings, that mixture, and he drinks it whole. He lets it hurt because it makes him feel something other than that numbness that seems to freeze him whole.
You're missing just one more Marauder, he still wants to yell out at the top of his lungs, wanting to challenge Carrow. Wanting to kill Carrow. But he had promised Harry he wouldn't. He had promised Tonks, and going out in his condition would be considered suicide. So, instead, it's his sanity that suffers. It's parts of him that break off and shatter into tiny pieces as the helplessness crushes him. As the fear chokes him. As the rage he feels burns through him like a poison.
Suddenly a practice dummy moves towards him in his darkness, and at once Remus' wand is drawn and the dummy disappears as the spell hits it. He stuns one, shocks another, blows others up... After a while he loses count of how many practice dummies he 'faces' and he stops only when his knees feel like they are ready to give in from under him. This is why he can't look for his friends how he wants, he thinks bitterly; he's still recuperating. He wouldn't last in a duel with anything other than a practice dummy.
It's that thought that heightens the anger that has been pulsing in him, and for a second he can almost swear that he sees red as he embraces the pain that seeps right through his bones; that pain that makes his chest constrict tightly and painfully as each ragged breath expands the wounds on his chest.
As he stands there the sound of another dummy moving towards him catches his attention, and his mind plays tricks on him again. Or maybe it's the room that's giving him what he wants, because in front of him he sees him. He sees Carrow, with that fucking smirk, with that look on his face, and the beast in him snarls as it approaches him.
'You're missing just one more Marauder'
The beast is in full control now. Or maybe it's Remus himself the one who wants to draw blood, the one that wants and basks in that power he holds with one wand and two words.
"Avada Kedavra!" he almost growls, his voice echoing in his ears and dripping with all the hatred and everything else that he's feeling.
Darkness disappears for a brief moment, but he doesn't even flinch as the bright green light envelops the room. As the light disappears he's able to catch a glimpse of the dummy and how it has turned to dust on the floor.
There's no body. No blank stare. And Merlin, how he wishes there would be because Carrow does not deserve to live. Instead the darkness disappears slowly, and as he stares at that pile of dust a sound comes from the bottom of his throat.
Laughter. It's a laugh so hollow yet at the same time so bitter that he can almost feel it leaving behind a horrid taste in his mouth. It's not supposed to be so easy to kill. It's not supposed to be so easy to say those two words. It's not supposed to be so easy to mean them so wholeheartedly.
But the time for disarming was over, wasn't it? He had told Harry that once. Why can't he take his own advice? They're supposed to be done playing games, so why are they still doing the same thing? It's all some fucked up, twisted game.
If he had killed Fenrir years ago, he suddenly thinks, Scorpius wouldn't have gotten bitten. If he had killed Carrow the second he had seen him again, James and Sirius wouldn't be with him right now.
He's done playing games. He's just...done.
Walking out of the room of requirement, he makes his way back to his dormitory as the facade slowly covers any traces of that loss of sanity he has just experienced. The dark features of the wolf fade from his face as each step is taken, and he barely notices how his hands are shaking slightly. He's tired, he decides, even if he knows already he won't sleep. But for now he would rest. He would get better. His friends being held hostage is breaking him apart, but he's already planning on reserving his feelings for when the time would come to unleash them. That way, when the time would come to fight and to finish the war, he would be ready to end it at all costs.
Cut for some language and length.
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For most of his life Remus Lupin has heard the worst things about dark creatures. He has gotten accused for atrocities that he might cause because of all the chaos that dark creatures create, and for most of his life he has tried to prove it all wrong. He has been able to control that beast within him, that dark creature that is capable of all those horrible things.
But everyone has their limits. Everyone has that point of no return, including soft-spoken, usually-kind Remus Lupin.
This war has managed to push him to an edge more than once already, and just when he figures he cannot possibly be pushed anymore he is proven wrong. And the thing is, if you push and push and push, there is bound to be a reaction. The wolf is bound to growl at the very least; it is bound to lash out.
Lily. Dumbledore. Harry. Scorpius. Teddy. Albus Severus. James. Sirius.
So many of their own. So many more that are innocent. How many more until it ends? Who would be next?
Dora.
The name echoes in his mind before he even finishes the question, and his stomach lurches in a way that almost makes him be sick. Which would be close to impossible, considering he has barely eaten, but the feeling is there anyway as he continues walking towards the room of requirement.
It's darkness what surrounds him as soon as he makes his way into the room, muttering protection charms as a precaution. The darkness is only interrupted by a pale light coming from above him, but he doesn't look up to know what it is. He had asked for it, after all.
For the first time in decades he wants a full moon, and this is as close to one as he can get.
As he stands under the moonlight no transformation occurs, and part of him is actually disappointed. There's no shift in his body from one form to another. There are no broken bones, no sudden howl that will erupt from his throat even if he does feel the struggle within him that has been going on ever since he found out the news.
How many more times is he supposed to watch his friends get hurt? How many more times is he supposed to lose them?
Not again not again not again I can't lose them again Merlin not again not again I can't do this again...
A voice in his head reminds him that they aren't dead. They aren't gone. Harry had said they were alive and he has to trust that until he can make sure for himself that it's true. Despite that voice, though, the mind is a tricky thing and no amount of logic has been able to keep away the images that play and replay in his head. James' grave site. Sirius going through the veil. Seeing them again and then losing them again each time Carrow shows up in his thoughts. He still doesn't know the details of what his friends are going through but his imagination has been doing a bloody fantastic job at producing images for him. Blood. Pain. Torture. He knows what Carrow has done; what else is he supposed to expect? And he sees them, and he imagines all of it, and each time he does so something in him unhinges. It's his sanity, perhaps, breaking away as helplessness, fear and anger collide violently within him.
But he doesn't ignore it, any of it. He makes no attempt to, because it's so much much easier to handle that mixture of emotions rather than facing the terror of possible loss again. So he takes those feelings, that mixture, and he drinks it whole. He lets it hurt because it makes him feel something other than that numbness that seems to freeze him whole.
You're missing just one more Marauder, he still wants to yell out at the top of his lungs, wanting to challenge Carrow. Wanting to kill Carrow. But he had promised Harry he wouldn't. He had promised Tonks, and going out in his condition would be considered suicide. So, instead, it's his sanity that suffers. It's parts of him that break off and shatter into tiny pieces as the helplessness crushes him. As the fear chokes him. As the rage he feels burns through him like a poison.
Suddenly a practice dummy moves towards him in his darkness, and at once Remus' wand is drawn and the dummy disappears as the spell hits it. He stuns one, shocks another, blows others up... After a while he loses count of how many practice dummies he 'faces' and he stops only when his knees feel like they are ready to give in from under him. This is why he can't look for his friends how he wants, he thinks bitterly; he's still recuperating. He wouldn't last in a duel with anything other than a practice dummy.
It's that thought that heightens the anger that has been pulsing in him, and for a second he can almost swear that he sees red as he embraces the pain that seeps right through his bones; that pain that makes his chest constrict tightly and painfully as each ragged breath expands the wounds on his chest.
As he stands there the sound of another dummy moving towards him catches his attention, and his mind plays tricks on him again. Or maybe it's the room that's giving him what he wants, because in front of him he sees him. He sees Carrow, with that fucking smirk, with that look on his face, and the beast in him snarls as it approaches him.
'You're missing just one more Marauder'
The beast is in full control now. Or maybe it's Remus himself the one who wants to draw blood, the one that wants and basks in that power he holds with one wand and two words.
"Avada Kedavra!" he almost growls, his voice echoing in his ears and dripping with all the hatred and everything else that he's feeling.
Darkness disappears for a brief moment, but he doesn't even flinch as the bright green light envelops the room. As the light disappears he's able to catch a glimpse of the dummy and how it has turned to dust on the floor.
There's no body. No blank stare. And Merlin, how he wishes there would be because Carrow does not deserve to live. Instead the darkness disappears slowly, and as he stares at that pile of dust a sound comes from the bottom of his throat.
Laughter. It's a laugh so hollow yet at the same time so bitter that he can almost feel it leaving behind a horrid taste in his mouth. It's not supposed to be so easy to kill. It's not supposed to be so easy to say those two words. It's not supposed to be so easy to mean them so wholeheartedly.
But the time for disarming was over, wasn't it? He had told Harry that once. Why can't he take his own advice? They're supposed to be done playing games, so why are they still doing the same thing? It's all some fucked up, twisted game.
If he had killed Fenrir years ago, he suddenly thinks, Scorpius wouldn't have gotten bitten. If he had killed Carrow the second he had seen him again, James and Sirius wouldn't be with him right now.
He's done playing games. He's just...done.
Walking out of the room of requirement, he makes his way back to his dormitory as the facade slowly covers any traces of that loss of sanity he has just experienced. The dark features of the wolf fade from his face as each step is taken, and he barely notices how his hands are shaking slightly. He's tired, he decides, even if he knows already he won't sleep. But for now he would rest. He would get better. His friends being held hostage is breaking him apart, but he's already planning on reserving his feelings for when the time would come to unleash them. That way, when the time would come to fight and to finish the war, he would be ready to end it at all costs.