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Not Completely


Remus lay on the couch in the Trophy Room Passageway, awaiting Sirius’s return with anguish. He balled himself up tight as he could, clutching his knees and staring into the darkness. He whimpered as a spasm went through his shins. There was a sudden pop and a flash in the corridor outside the alcove and Remus’s brows knit together in concern. “Who - who’s there?” he called.

Around the corner stumbled a house elf, wearing a flour sack with the Hogwarts crest emblazoned upon his chest, his ears flat to his head as his wide, bulbous eyes tried to see through the darkness as they glowed yellow in the dim light. “Headmaster Dumbledore is wishing to see Mister Lupin,” the elf squeaked, peering around the room with a bit of peaked interest. “The headmaster is be waiting in his offices…”

Remus drew a deep breath, imagining walking all the way up to the office, which seemed a planet away from where he laid. Not to mention all those stairs that hid in the curling tower that led up to the platform where Dumbledore kept his umbrella and wellies. As though the mere thought of the stairs caused him further pain, Remus felt a flicker through his spine.

The elf hovered closer until his nose was resting on the cushion before Remus’s face. “Is you sick, Mister Lupin?” the elf asked.

“No, I’m feeling rather grand,” murmured Remus into the cushion.

“Is you needing Madam Pomfrey? I can be taking you to the hospital wing, Mister Lupin if you is needing her attentions?” the elf pressed.

“No,” Remus groaned, and he forced himself to sit up, “No. Go tell Dumbledore I’m on my way…”

The elf hesitated then nodded, and clicked his fingers and disappeared with a crack.

Remus struggled up from the couch, wincing with every curve and turn of his wpine, and made his way out of the tunnel and into the Trophy Room, checking both ways in the corridor before making his way long toward the Headmaster’s office, not particularly wanting to run into anyone in the hallway. He wondered as he moved what Dumbledore would want, if he’d be asking details of Remus about the boys’ trip to Havmork and the Durmstrang castle and he worried that Dumbledore might be angry with him, that he might lose his position as prefect…

He was on the staircase when Sirius bounded up to him, his big black boots banging on the wood staircase obnoxiously loud, a pale sort of stunned expression on his face. “Moony?” he asked, seeing Remus limping along ahead of him. “What the bloody hell’re you doing? You were supposed to stay relaxing - you’re in pain - here -- let me --” and Sirius attempted to string himself around Remus supportively, but Remus pushed him off.

“It’s alright, Padfoot,” he said, not wanting to give in at all to any weakness lest he not be able to make it the rest of the way. “I’m alright.”
br> Sirius’s eyes were filled with concern - and maybe a flicker of disappointment.
br> “Really,” Remus persisted. He reached up and cupped Sirius’s cheek with his hand. “I’m alright. Thank you, though. How’d it go in the hospital wing, then?”

Sirius shrugged, “Lily was there. Didn’t much feel right interrupting them.”

Remus frowned.

“I’ll talk to Prongsie later,” Sirius said, “Surely they’ll send him to the dormitories soon enough and - and in the mean time you need me so…”

“I’m alright,” Remus said again.

Sirius walked alongside him - up the stairs slowly, Remus wincing each step they took, and he wished that Remus wouldn’t lie about such things… not to him. But Remus needed to be strong for now, he realized, and so he did his best not to let Remus notice just how ready he was to catch him if he fell down, and Sirius made his pace match Remus’s.

On the fifth floor landing, Remus stopped and turned to Sirius, “I’ve got to go to see Dumbledore,” he explained, “But I’ll be back in a jiffy, I’m sure.”

Sirius hesitated. “Do you want me to come with you?”

Remus shook his head, “I’ll be alright. “You go ahead to the dorm in case James gets back before I do, alright?”

Sirius nodded.

Remus leaned over and pecked Sirius upon the cheek with a little kiss and he smiled as he pulled back. “Thanks for walking with me.”

Sirius nodded, smiling back just a little. He watched as Remus walked away, limping with the pain from his bum knee, and sighed once he’d turned the corner. Sirius turned back to the stairs and ran the rest of the way up to Gryffindor tower alone, his mind a tangled mess of worrying for Remus and for James and for the future altogether.

When he pushed his way into the Marauders dormitory, it was to find the lights were all on, and the lump of Peter Pettigrew shivering in his bed, asleep. Sirius shed his boots and jacket on his bed and asked, “Pete? You awake?” but the chubby boy didn’t move or reply, so Sirius assumed he was asleep and he waved his wand to close off the lights before crawling into bed. He’d tried to stay awake for Remus, but the shadows had crawled over the ceiling, long from the four poster, and the house elves had magically warmed the blankets for them and outside there was snow pinging off the window pane and Sirius had been lulled into sleeping, despite Remus’s absence… the sound of Peter Pettigrew’s raspy breathing a sort of lullaby...

But it was not a sound sleep by any means.

He kept waking up and each time it was with a start, as though from a nightmare, though he couldn’t quite place what visions had haunted him. He lay in the bed, staring up at the ceiling, where he and Remus Lupin usually slept, uneasy since Remus was still not there. He wondered what Remus was doing and if he was feeling any better - perhaps Albus Dumbledore had found a cure for whatever it was that was ailing him. He was acting like it was the full moon, Sirius thought, though when his eyes traversed to the window there was no denying that there hung no more than a crescent in the inky sky.

The third time he awakened in so many hours, he’d had enough of trying to force his mind to be quiet and instead he rolled himself off the bed, stuffing his toes into slippers the moment they departed the warmth of the duvet, and he cinched a knot on the waist of his sleeping pyjama robes. Sirius slunk across the narrow gap between Remus’s bed and Peter’s and stood, looking down at Peter as he slept for several moments. Peter, too, seemed to be having a rather nasty night, and there was a light sheen of sweat across the pudgy boy’s forehead as he emitted little squeaks and twitches of nervousness beneath his bed clothes, his little face turned into a frightened grimace.

Something between admiration, hatred, and guilt swelled up in Sirius.

He reached down and shook Peter’s shoulder. “Wormtail,” he said in a hushed whisper.

“No, no - don’t hurt him! Don’t hurt him!” Peter cried as he jolted awake, his chubby fingers tightening around the fringe of his blankets as he struggled to pull himself out of the nightmare. “No! Please!! No!

“Oi - Wormy! Pete! Peter!” Sirius said, catching Peter by the shoulders to steady him, “Hey, it’s only me - just Sirius.” He stared into Peter’s face as tears leaked from his eyes, “It’s just me, Wormtail. It’s only me, Padfoot. See?”

Peter’s heart was thumping triple-time in his chest - the echos and whispers still in his mind, and he stared up at Sirius Black, panting from his panic. Sirius petted his shoulder and Peter’s eyes twitched from Sirius’s palm on his frame and the back again to Sirius’s face “Wh- what are you doing up?” he asked, coming to his senses still, bit by bit. He looked up at the window, “Its still dark.”

“Everything’s dark, isn’t it?” Sirius murmured.

Without waiting for Peter to offer, he pushed himself in next to Pete under the duvet so they were laying side-by-side. It was a bit more awkward than when Sirius did this to Remus or James, though, and both boys felt it. They’d never really been close like this before - of the four Marauders, Sirius and Peter were the least likely pair and it showed most especially in moments like this, when circumstances pushed them together. Sirius worried the edge of the duvet through his fingers as he tried to think of what to say.

“Was it James?”

“What?” Peter asked, confused, looking over at Sirius with glowing eyes.

“Your dream,” Sirius clarified, “When you woke up just now you said no, don’t hurt him... Was it James?”

Peter shifted a little of his weight, and after a long pause, he said, “And Vold-Vold- You Know Who.”

Sirius nodded.

“He was torturing him,” whispered Peter.

Sirius flinched.

“When I got there, he was torturing James.” Peter’s voice shook and tears glistened on the edges of his eyes.

Sirius looked over at Peter’s round frame trembling in the relief of the moonlight. “You were so fucking brave, Pete.”

Peter shrugged.

“You were, Wormtail,” Sirius said, rolling onto his side to face him. Peter’s tears were spilling over now, his face so red from emotion that his freckles blended right in. Sirius’s voice was soothing - a tone he’d heard only from Dora Potter, “Hey… hey, don’t cry, Pete… Don’t cry.”

“Can’t help it,” choked Peter. “I can’t help it. I’m sorry if crying makes me seem like a - a useless lump --”

Sirius’s voice cut across, “You’re not useless.”

“I am useless!” Peter wailed.

Sirius was firm, “You’re not. Wormtail! You’re the only one of us who - who went at first! You’re the only one. And you went alone, you were so brave, mate! Using your crystals and divining it all on your own… We should’ve listened to you Wormy! A long time ago! Just think, if we had, if we’d just listened, maybe none of this rubbish would’ve happened! You’re the one who saved James, really.”

Peter stared at his hands, clutching the duvet. “I’m not brave.”

You were, Wormy!” Sirius exclaimed, “So very brave.”

Peter’s eyes glistened, “I was very nearly scared to death, Padfoot, I wasn’t brave at all. I’m a ruddy coward.”

“You’re not a coward, mate. And -- and -- James will think so, too, when he comes around,” Sirius added firmly. “You’ll see.”

Peter’s voice tilted. “Have you talked to him, then?”

Sirius shook his head.

“Oh,” Peter’s voice deflated. “Is he still asleep, then?”

Sirius murmured, “No.”

“Then what is it?” Peter asked.

Sirius’s eyes did not leave the ceiling. “I reckon, Wormtail, that you’re the only one of us that ought to have had the stones to talk to to him… being circumstances what they are.”

“Circumstances?” Peter trembled.

“You know. You being the only one to try to rescue him and all, as we’ve just said.”

“I failed at it, though,” Peter said, shaking his head. “I’m pathetic, Padfoot. He doesn’t want to see me. I’m completely pathetic.”

“Not completely,” Sirius said.

Peter stared up at the ceiling wondering if he was comforted that Sirius didn’t find him completely pathetic, or hurt that he found him pathetic at all.