Dark Side of the Moon

22 DECEMBER 2030 / 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒

The first shove had Remus reeling, barely catching his footing before Sirius was on him again. And this time, Remus found himself suddenly unprepared for the onslaught – somehow losing ground in the face of Sirius’ unbridled rage. Except Sirius had no right to his anger; his bitter accusations feeling like a slap to the face. Because Sirius hadn’t been the one left behind, picking up the pieces of his life… no, their life together. He hadn’t been the one to sit there mutely, unable to pinpoint the moment everything had gone to hell as everyone around him demanded answers. Because Remus should’ve known. Clever, clever Remus who made his bones with the Order providing them with all sorts of secrets regardless of the cost. How couldn’t he have known? And it’s Peter’s voice that comes back to him at that moment. In those last days before the Polats’ murder when Remus’ chest was cracked open and his bleeding heart lay in full display, hadn’t he said it then, as he handed him drink after drink to fill up the emptiness that Sirius left behind. ‘Oh Moons, you should’ve known better.’ But what did he know? He knew that Sirius was brash and bolder than anyone he’d ever known and that his love could run as deeply as his disdain. He knew that Peter was terrified after so many years of war, casting surreptitious glances every which way whenever he opened the door but always letting Remus in all the same. He knew that he should’ve drawn his wand the moment he laid eyes on Sirius. Except he couldn’t – even now as his fists shook by his side and his breathing was a horrible ragged thing, he still couldn’t bring himself to do this one thing even as Sirius goaded him. “If…,” and Remus hated that he was allowing this concession but the words were pouring out of him before he could stop himself. “If what you’re saying is true, then why didn’t you say anything back then?,” he asked, eyes boring into him as he slowly stalked him down. “You had plenty of chances, hell, you even managed a quick chat with Hagrid before you hunted down Pete,” he pointed out, his previous rage now transformed into something quiet, something damning. “But you didn’t, did you?,” he continued and the bitter smile that flashed across his face was sharp and full of blood. “So tell me, Sirius, why should I trust you now?” When you couldn’t trust me with the truth back then?

december 26th, 2030. grimmauld place. closed starter for @lupineloon

Looking up at Grimmauld Place as he apparated on its doorstep, Remus wondered if he’d ever feel comfortable here. It wouldn’t have been his first choice of residence, however temporary it may have been, but recently revived beggars truly couldn’t be choosers it seemed. Even knowing that the place was the Order’s headquarters and had been so for quite some time wasn’t enough to soothe his raised hackles. There was still too much old magic trapped within its walls, no matter how thoroughly the Order may have tried to scrub the worst of it out. And with the whispers of that magic came all the stories that he knew about this place. Stories whispered in the dead of night between bouts of nightmares that still held a grip on his heart. So no, he didn’t think he’d ever find any comfort in its halls but, at the very least, Remus never questioned his safety within its walls. That is until that very moment when he stepped into its doorway and felt a tingle of unfamiliar magic run up his spine, bright and stunning, before ropes flew out to greet him. “Motherfucker,” he cried out loudly in surprise, fully bound from the neck down within the space of a heartbeat as he slammed face first into the floor. Instantly, all his senses went into high alert, a curse already on the tip of his tongue to stun his would be attacker when a voice stopped him dead in his tracks.  “ I need to have a word with my husband. ” That phrase alone had his breath constricting in a way that had nothing to do with the ropes around him and had a different sort of panic coursing through his veins. Nonsensically, he almost wished he was under attack because that was something he could face. Because there was one other reason that had Remus fleeing Grimmauld whenever possible and she was heading straight to him. His magic all but forgotten, he did the one reasonable thing his panic addled brain could come up with and he crawled away. He impressively made it a few inches away before she gracelessly plopped down in front of him, effectively blocking his path. Casting one last ditch effort, he sent a pleading look towards the retreating back of one of the Jan clones but at her huff, Remus knew that he was thoroughly caught. “Hello, Tonks,” he said, raising his head to look directly at her, forcing himself to say her name aloud for the first time since he’d heard about her existence and what it had meant to him once upon a time ago. “I’m Remus,” he continued, knowing that he didn’t require any introduction but he couldn’t help being as polite as ever since it was the only defense he had left. “I’m unemployed and have been for some time it seems. I do bite and I think it’s a little too soon to be talking about chains since we don’t have any safe words in place,” he continued, matching her beat for beat in a deadpan tone. Yet as the last words left his lips, he slammed his mouth shut with an audible click, letting his face fall back down against the carpet as he felt a curl of warmth tickle at his throat. Because Remus Lupin was and had been many things in his life and being an incurable showboat who didn’t know when to quit had always been one of his worst qualities. Which is of course, why that particular trait was rearing its head in the worst possible moment. “In the spirit of fairness,” he began, voice muffled against the carpet as his mind desperately ran through all possible escapes. “I should let you know that I just spent my morning drinking a whole teapot full of a mystery potion whose effects I’m just starting to understand,” he explained, attempting to keep his voice light despite internally promising swift revenge on Snape. “Would you mind terribly if we rescheduled this conversation? Perhaps for the 29th of February?,” he asked, voice hopeful as he lifted his head to flash her his most charming smile.

Remus’ laugh burst out of him – an unexpected thing that stole his breath away as he doubled over the chair that was keeping him upright. Of all the things Jan could’ve said to him in that moment, the last thing he’d expected was for him to argue his family’s genetic predisposition towards him. It was ridiculous and stupid and absolutely perfectly Jan. “Gods know why they’d want that,” he said between breaths, lifting his head to finally look at the ridiculous man standing before him. He wasn’t even surprised that Jan had managed to drag a laugh out of him – however unintended it may have been. But that’s how it had always been between them. Jan had been his sun and Remus had always been irrevocably drawn to his comforting warmth. It's why Remus simply watched as he approached, so many memories superimposed over each step Jan took towards him. So many moments in which Jan had reached out to him and he’d clung on to him like a life line. “I dreamt of you, you know,” he said, his words a quiet confession as he pressed his cheek against the top of Jan’s hand, basking in a warmth he thought he’d never get to experience again. “So many times that I started to wonder if maybe…,” but he couldn’t get the rest of the words out, inhaling so sharply it felt like he’d choke on his own grief. A grief that he’d fed night after night with each wondered what if as he’d laid trapped between dreams and nightmares. “I’m sorry, Prongs,” he whispered, swallowing thickly as he screwed his eyes shut, feeling unworthy of the unbridled affection in Jan’s gaze. “I’m so so sorry.”

Remus would never admit it out loud but there was something oddly comforting about watching Severus scowl at him. After all the madness and revelations of the past few days, it was nice to be able to sit across Severus and know with a bone deep certainty that his old classmate still found him absolutely irritating. It was never truly his intention to aggravate the other (regardless of what Severus might’ve thought), but over the years, it simply became a byproduct of their circumstances. And while Remus was quickly becoming tired of that excuse as he learned more and more information about his revival, he found that he didn’t mind pretending that they were back in the days of the first youth for a little bit. Just enough to see the sort of man Severus Snape truly was for himself. “Well, my compliments regardless,” Remus said, utterly nonplussed by Severus’ secretiveness as he raised his cup in a toast. “It has a rather nice warming effect that I’m enjoying,” and he was sincere in his praise as he took yet another sip under Severus’ watchful eye, letting the taste of it linger on his tongue a moment longer. He could feel the unmistakable thrill of magic with each sip now that he knew to look. And while he was no potions master, he could certainly guess at what Severus’ brew could induce. That alone had him fortifying his mental defenses, taking a breath as he cleared his own mind, knowing that he was about to find out the hard way what Severus was up to. The thought alone had him smiling – one that only grew as Severus began his line of inquiry. “Why, Severus, is this your way of offering your congratulations on my nuptials?,” he asked, unable to curb his delight as he teased him. “Although I’m sorry to burst that bubble of domestic bliss that you’ve imagined for me but I’ve yet to actually meet her.” And Remus kept his words purposefully light, his smile never leaving his face even as the word wife bounced around uncomfortably in his head.

For a second, Regulus wasn't even aware of the impulse that raised his hand towards the wand secured on his right arm. For the briefest of moments, he already had a silent spell in mind to cast. It was second nature, really. What he wanted to do when he saw a wand in his general vicinity and the muscle memory that drove his reaction. But when he waited for the shame, the one directly linked to the horrors his magic was ready to enact, it didn't come. It felt right to simply offer the worst he could give as his natural response.

Hearing Regulus’ voice sent shivers running down Remus’ spine. It was like a hoarse croak, emanating from somewhere so deep inside that it seemed almost otherworldly. It was nothing like the voice that he remembered from the days of their youth even if the memories of their conversations together were few and far between. But as he was held captive by Regulus’ almost manic stare, Remus wondered if he had ever really known the younger Black.  “You’re alive, Regulus,” he promised him, voice painfully gentle as he took those last few steps between them, knowing without being told that Regulus needed tangible proof. “You really, really are,” and Remus almost wanted to laugh, something hysterical building up in his own chest because the words were meant for Regulus just as much as himself. Instead, he gripped Regulus’ forearms with his own shaking hands, trying to hold them both steady even if Remus felt more and more unmoored as the words tumbled out of Regulus’ mouth.  But before he could press him for any details, he felt himself still as Regulus’ cold hand pressed against his check; his own heart breaking at the uncertainty, no, the fear that he saw in the other’s eyes. So he didn’t hesitate as he pulled Regulus in for a hug, holding him close as if that could somehow protect the younger Black from the horrors he saw in his eyes. “I died too,” and the words were whispered like a confession as he gently pressed his temple against Regulus’. “I think that’s the first time I’m saying that out loud,” he said, unable to stop his puff of quiet laughter at his own nonsensical admission. “Although I died years after you did, Regulus. I was almost forty if you can believe it,” and it was ridiculous that this was the moment he chose to realize that he was just as much a ghost as the other. “We’re back, Regulus,” he insisted, hoping his voice sounded stronger than how he felt at that moment. “I know it sounds mad, and I’m not sure I can even begin to explain the how, but it’s real… you’re real.”

sirius barely has time to catch his breath before remus is on him again, possessed of a fury that turns him into an almost-stranger. his eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, and his hands are shaking where they grasp at sirius' shirt.

Sweet-tempered. That was the phrase that had followed Remus around most of his life. The sky was blue, the earth was round and Remus was the most sweet tempered person out there. Everyone said it – from his mother who would anxiously squeeze his shoulders as if trying to imprint the words into his skin to his teachers with their well meaning pity shining in their eyes to his friends with their wheedling charm that meant he could never say no. Because really, how could he disagree? Disagreeing would mean worrying his mother, disappointing his teachers, letting down his friends. Disagreeing would mean admitting to his anger and Remus’ anger tasted sharply of blood in his mouth. It was the roar of his heartbeat in his ears and skin stretched so tight over his bones it felt like something was trying to claw its way out and oh, that wasn’t the sort of thing Remus could afford to get out. But as Sirius bared his teeth, all Remus could do was laugh in his face because there was no point in holding back against the one person that already knew all his secrets. “So glad I could provide one last laugh, Black,” he said, breathless from laughter as he felt something close to tears prick his eyes. “It’s the only use a charity case like me ever had right?” And the words felt like relief as he let the bitterness flow through him – finally giving way to all those doubts and fears he’d been swallowing back for months. “It made the perfect cover, didn’t it? Who would ever suspect Sirius Black who loved his friends so much?” And Remus couldn’t even help the way his head dropped, taking a shuddering breath as he screwed his eyes shut. “That’s why you were their secret keeper. Not Peter, not me –,” and he hated how his voice cracked then, hated that he knew the reasoning behind that choice and that at the very end, he simply hadn’t been enough. “Why would he run, Sirius?,” he demanded, trying to shake the truth out of him as his fingers went bloodless from the grip he had on him. “Why would Peter do any of that?”

22 / 12 / 30 :  𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗘𝗘𝗧𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗟𝗢𝗡𝗗𝗢𝗡 

Remus blinked back in surprise at the snark in the other’s voice, raising an eyebrow in the face of their disbelief.  “Thank you,” and despite the amused smile tugging at his lips at being so blatantly called out, his words were genuine. But gratitude or not, Remus refused to lower his own wand, keeping it pointedly trained on the other. Because regardless of the help he’d been provided, he couldn’t trust the other – not when he couldn’t make heads or tails of the situation he was in. Because Remus shouldn’t be here and he knew that without needing the other’s commentary. In fact, he was almost positive that he hadn’t even been in London before… well, before he found himself in the halls of the Ministry.  The problem was he couldn’t figure out how that had happened and the other’s explanation was absolutely absurd. Yet everything around him was screaming at him that this wasn’t the London that he knew – from the clothing to the skyline and hell, even the sounds were off. But thirty years… and just repeating the words in his own head had a feeling of cold dread spreading throughout his body. “So,” he began, tilting his head as he blatantly appraised the other, once again caught out by the familiarity in that unfamiliar face. “Seeing as we’re on the same side as you say, how about you tell me what it is you think you know about me? Because this is the second time now you’ve mentioned my death.”  And as maddening as this entire situation was, Remus wasn’t so blind as to not notice how shaken the other seemed to be at the sight of him. And dead or alive or revived, Remus couldn’t help but wonder why it mattered to the other. They were no one to Remus. “Or better yet,” he began, a conversational lilt to his voice, “how about you tell me how it is that you know me seeing as it’s been thirty years?”

24 / 12 / 2030   ━━   grimmauld place  remus lupin | jan polat ( @lupineloon )

Remus was lost. An impressive feat, he was sure, but, then again, it wasn’t his fault that the rich and blood thirsty apparently thrived off having stupidly large homes. He genuinely couldn’t tell if he had stumbled into a parlor room… or maybe it was a sitting room and quite frankly the fact that there were so many options to begin with was beginning to irritate him. (If he had more presence of mind, he might’ve acknowledged that some of that confusion stemmed from the alcohol in his system keeping him warm.) Maybe that’s why he didn't notice someone slipping in the room after him, nearly jumping out of his skin when the silence was broken. And oh, just the sight of the other man had his heart stuttering to a stop because this was quite possibly the one person that Remus wasn’t ready to see just yet. “I'm sorry,” he began nonsensically, grabbing hold of the top of the nearest chair, desperately trying to hold himself steady. He couldn’t even remember the last time someone had addressed him by that childhood nickname and the fact that it was him of all people had Remus swallowing thickly around a lump in his throat. “I’m going to need you to give me your full name,” and he felt ridiculous even making the demand but at this point he needed to for his sanity. “Because if you aren’t him…,” and even now despite knowing, despite being told, that Jan Polat was alive, he still couldn’t bring himself to say that name out loud. Because acknowledging it meant that there was always a chance Jan could be taken away from him once again. “If you aren’t him,” he continued, covering his eyes with one shaky hand, “I’m going to have to politely ask you to fuck right off because I cannot handle having a conversation with one of his clones right now.”

december 26th 2030, evening. coffee shop at hogsmeade. starter for @lupineloon

Remus hadn’t planned on going to Hogsmeade. In fact, he’d picked it on an absolute whim as he bounded down the front steps of Grimmauld Place, desperately needing a break from everything. But Hogsmeade was one of those few places from his memories that was uncomplicated and uncomplicated was exactly what Remus needed. Which is, of course, why he had to go and complicate his day a little once he caught sight of one Severus Snape. He hadn’t meant to make his presence known at first. Afterall, there were seven years worth of memories between them that reminded him why this could potentially be a bad idea. But something like that had never stopped him before, especially once his curiosity had been piqued. And catching Severus in what was most certainly an interrogation was definitely reason enough to take a risk. “Severus,” he replied, an easy smile gracing his features as he gave his old classmate a once over. “I could say the same to you. Old age seems to agree with you.” And the sentiment was as genuine as it was ridiculous but that seemed to be the ongoing narrative of the past few days. “And I’d love some tea, thank you,” he said, the picture of ease as he moved towards the offered chair, only to stop with a quiet ‘ah’ as he made a show of reaching over and snuffing out the candle with his fingertips. “We won’t be needing this, now will we?,” he said, both a statement and a challenge, flashing Severus his most beatific smile as he sat down. It was clear from the barebones presentation the resurrected had received that they had all severely underestimated Severus, himself included, and Remus wasn’t one to make that same mistake twice. After all, there was a reason Severus had managed to survive until the end when many others hadn’t. “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what’s in this particular blend of yours,” he asked, pouring himself a cup under Severus’ watchful eye. “It seems it packs quite a punch if your friend over there is anything to go by,” he added, meeting Severus’ gaze over the rim of his cup as he took a pointed sip.

DECEMBER 24, 2030. 12 grimmauld place w. remus @lupineloon

Oh, the holidays. Remus had never had quite the same fondness for the holidays as his friends did – far too accustomed to the quiet affair that he’d grown up with at home for the holidays to really matter. Yet even he hadn’t been immune to his friends’ infectious cheer and giddy laughs as the castle broke out in dazzling color all around them. So it was no surprise that any love that he had for the holidays was tied directly to them and their seven years of happiness together. And had this been like any other Christmas from before, Remus would’ve been out there with his friends – putting up with Jan’s offkey singing and Sirius’ spiked eggnog all while charming the mistletoe to cheerily chase after Peter. Hell, a few days (years, he reminded himself solemnly) ago, Remus would’ve done almost anything to spend one more Christmas with his friends. Yet, here he was, somehow miraculously surrounded by all the people whom he held dearest to his heart, and Remus was hiding in the library with a bottle of scotch. He couldn’t bring himself to celebrate not when he was still reeling from everything he’d learned. It felt wrong; as if they were slapping a shiny big red bow on a mess that could only be called an affront to Death itself and calling it a Christmas miracle instead. So Remus had quietly slipped away, needing the time to catch his bearings and channel the frenetic mess occupying his mind into something resembling a plan. But his reprieve didn’t last long, whirling around as someone burst into the library, his wand already in hand. Only for it to nearly slip out of his fingers as he caught sight of the pale man standing before him. “Regulus?,” he asked breathlessly, the shock knocking the air right out him. “You’re alive,” and that was quite possibly the stupidest thing he could’ve said in that moment but Regulus had been a bit of ghost to him far longer than anyone else. And by the looks of him – all frantic eyes and pale skin, Remus couldn’t be sure he wasn’t one. “Fuck, what happened to you?,” he demanded, nearly stumbling in his haste to get to the other, hands fluttering pathetically in front of him, unsure of whether or not he could or rather, should, touch him. “C’mon, you need to sit down.”

22 DECEMBER 2030 / 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒

There had been moments in the aftermath, after all the eulogies were said and the funerals were done and Remus had been left alone with his thoughts for far too long, that he wondered what he’d do if he ever got a chance to confront Sirius. It was self-flagellation at its best and he knew it but the thought burned inside him much like the firewhiskey going down his throat when he got into these moods.  Yet, even in these imagined scenarios, after all of Remus’s curses and accusations, Sirius remained brash, cruelly so, proudly boasting of his accomplishments; of how he managed to play them for fools year after year until the very end. And Remus hated it. Because despite everything that he’d come to learn in the aftermath of the Polats’ deaths, Remus still knew Sirius and he knew how viciously unrepentant he truly was.  Which is why he never imagined that Sirius would be so cowardly as to deny his hand in the Polats’ death.  “Peter?!,” he all but yelled, ignoring the pain that shot up his arm as his elbow painfully cracked against the marble floor. “How dare you!,” he seethed, uncaring of all the people scrambling around him as he struggled to right himself - his whole body shaking from the force of his own rage. “How dare you even say his name after what you did to him! I buried him! Do you hear me? I buried all of them!," and he couldn't stop his voice from cracking, the anguish too fresh as if his heart was breaking all over again. "Aren't you going to gloat, Black?," and he spat out the name like the curse Sirius had always warned him it was, lunging once again without aim or direction, trying to grapple Sirius back down to the floor, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt as he went.  "Aren't you going to tell me it was all one giant laugh?"

remus lupin. teddy grits their teeth and tightens their grip on their wand — the point of which is still trained on the mystery figure in eager anticipation. for all their usual composure, their hands are trembling. just give me a reason, i dare you.

‘Remus Lupin is dead.’ It was as if another blasting spell had gone off at his feet, the declaration echoing in his ears as he tried to make sense of what this stranger was saying. Dead.  And without meaning to, his eyes flickered to his own bruised hand - the cuts stinging in the bitterly cold night air as he tightened his grip on his wand. That couldn’t be right - he’d been the last man standing in the end, burying piece after piece of his own heart alongside each one of his friends. (But he’d seen them hadn’t he? In that room full of madness where he caught flashes of fiery red alongside untidy black and where everything he thought he knew turned out to be a lie.) “It seems you’ve been misinformed,” he said, spitting out the warm blood from his earlier injury – almost as if in defiance of the accusation hurled his way. Whatever was happening tonight, Remus couldn’t allow himself to be pulled into whatever game the stranger was playing. “Not that a few haven’t given it a try,” he acknowledged, a ghost of a smile curling his lips as he matched the stranger step for step as they began to circle one another.

22 / 12 / 30 :  𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗘𝗘𝗧𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗟𝗢𝗡𝗗𝗢𝗡  /  a not-so-surprise starter for @lupineloon

22 / 12 / 30 :  𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗘𝗘𝗧𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗟𝗢𝗡𝗗𝗢𝗡 

22 DECEMBER 2027 / 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 ( plotted starter with @lupineloon )

For a moment, Remus thought he was dreaming as he stepped foot into the cavernous room - a hum of quiet whispers following in his wake. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d fallen into a dream like this one; forever chasing after shadows as the voices of his loved ones echoed all around him. (... Or so he thinks and there’s a moment of hesitation there – one that didn’t quite make sense but he tried ignoring anyway, as he took one step and then another because why would he doubt his own mind?) Except… Except that that uncertainty only seemed to be building up inside of him as the whispers grew louder, turning into an awful ringing in his ears that had him pushing forward, shoving past the shadows as he tried to escape. And this, this, was almost comforting in it’s routine because Remus was forever running away except… (‘Haunt me,’ he’d begged, ‘please… in whatever form, in whatever way.’ And those were his words, weren’t they? Said in anguish and in dreams, falling from his lips like dirt slipping through trembling fingers.) Except this time, there was no escape not as the shadows, no… the bodies pushed back, solid and warm, and Remus found himself reeling, locking eyes with one familiar face after another, his world spinning out of control until… The ringing in his ears quieted for the span of one disjointed heartbeat, something wretched breaking free at the sight of one achingly familiar face and then Remus took one trembling step forward followed by another before he lunged. And this time, the ringing in his ears was replaced by the roar of his own thundering heartbeat. Or maybe that was just his own roar of anguish as his fist connected with the face of his dearest (and oh, hadn’t he been so dear to him?) best friend. “‘You motherfucker!,” he yelled, stalking after Sirius as the other stumbled backwards, swinging blindly a second time even as the traitor clipped him with a blow of his own. “How could you?,” he demanded, ignoring the taste of blood blooming in his mouth just like he was ignoring everything else that was now happening around them as he bodily threw himself at Sirius, refusing to give him a moment of respite as he attempted to overpower him with another blow. “How?!”

𝐚𝐬𝐤  𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐞 :    𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒆𝒐𝒖𝒔  𝒒𝒖𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔