Marauder crack

Bitten

It's May 15, 1973, and Remus Lupin turns fifteen that morning. When he wakes up in the Shrieking Shack, back with his human form, he does not know what the day will give off, he does not know that in the future, when someone ask him if he remembers exactly the date he fell in love, will be able to say, without a second's hesitation, "May 15, 1973."

He walks down the narrow corridor that leads to Hogwarts limping slightly, with a sprained ankle. In the common room, the curtains are drawn. It is early and the morning, leaden gray. It seems that it has not yet been made during the day and every part of Remus's body hurts, even the ones that supposedly have vanished with the wolf. His arms hurt and also the claws that he no longer has, his chest hurts and his muzzle has disappeared. Still, his muscles are hot from the effort, his bones and blood creak dry under fingernails matches the marks he's made on his chest and face. The truth is that he does not know how he has managed to hide from his friends what it was for so long arriving with such a look every month. He notices that he has some fever and legendary tiredness.

He imagines that anyone who could see him would deduce that he is a werewolf within two seconds.

In the Common Room, the first light of dawn of its fifteenth birthday lights up Sirius, who is snoring softly, with his head supported by a book.

Remus approaches slowly, so as not to startle him.

-Hey- he wakes up.

He mutters a "hmm" as the only answer. He opens an eye and blinks repeatedly.

-I fell asleep- he says. As if it wasn't obvious.

The book in front of him, on which all his hair rests, is a Transfigurations manual taken from the Prohibited Section. What Remus remembers, this is Sirius' first time staying up late to study. He rubs his eyes tightly, yawns with his mouth wide open, arms outstretched. There's something definitely canine about him. He scratches his head. Then, he finally looks at him.

- You don't look good, Lupin.

- Moon hangover.

Remus is standing. Sirius, sitting down. When he looks at him it is from top to bottom, as if he worshiped a God who is about to abandon him.

- You look sick.

- Nothing happens though. I'm tired.

But he lies. He is broken. Exhausted. Ablaze. And a part of him feels like crying. But that doesn't count because he doesn't want Sirius to feel sorry for him. Aurora used to tell him that he had to be a strong boy and Remus has proven many times that he is.

Sirius doesn't seem convinced and keeps looking at him carefully, examining him.

-Blood- he says, and points to his hands with a nod.

-Mine- Remus explains, trying to downplay it. He hurts himself with the full moon. The wolf wants blood and fights to get out of the Shrieking Shack. Sometimes he bumps against the walls or scratches himself. Sometimes he chases rats sneaking into the house. He kills them with one claw and eats them raw, while still squirming and hurting him.

He has never told those things to anyone. When he tells Sirius, he doesn't see rejection, nor disgust. But a certain curiosity fascinated by the wolf and its customs of him.

- Hurts?

Remus's impulse is to say "no." It doesn't hurt, nothing happens, already know that he's a werewolf, he can live with it, he's used to it, everything will be fine, don't have to worry, he can take care of himself, "I'm a strong boy Mom, I'll be fine".

Is a lie. It's the same lie that he has been telling himself since he was five years and he's tired.

-Yes- he confesses. - It hurts.

He puts the chair aside and Sirius stands up, muttering. He seems to be meditating on some ominous enigma. He reaches out one arm and places his hand on his chest. Through the half-open buttons from Remus's shirt, Sirius can see the most recent wounds. They are still red and hurt. God, I think they hurt.

- I didn't know it hurt. So much. - Looks slightly devastated. - I don't know it had happened to me.

He would normally say "It doesn't hurt that much, really." But Sirius is playing the piano in his body with his fingertips, and his throat goes dry, as usual. The palm of his hand warms his skin just above his heart and when he says "I'm sorry, Remus " with that scowl and a tone of voice more adult than he has ever heard, the last of a lonely childhood dies and Remus feels unknown, new, terrified.

- We will find a way not to leave you alone, Remus. I promise.

He drowns. Remus's heart crashes against an invisible iceberg. Sirius repeats "I promise you" and Remus is dying for the intensity of something that was there a minute before in the form of rain but now it has become a flood. "He loves you. My God, my God, Sirius, help me". He doesn't know what to say to him. His knees are weak. He looks at the drawing of Sirius's lips and in the shape of his chin and the shades of gray in his eyes and he wants to cry and laugh at the same time. Sink his head on his chest and kiss him with his mouth open. He soooo loves him.

It's unbearable, it's like coming home, it's terrifying and it's so clear that now he could never deny it. "I love you, Sirius Black. Now and for the rest of my days, amen".

- Let's go to bed.

Remus goes blind. He sees it all-black then all-white, and then just Sirius.

- What have you said?

- You look like a wreck and I'm sleepy. They should not be more than six o'clock, we still have a while to get some rest.

He nods, and then says "okay, sure" and walks him upstairs to the room where Peter and James sleep. It's dawning, it's his birthday and he feels so struck down by love that he doesn't know if his eyes hurt because of the moon or because of Sirius Black, who has promised not to leave him alone and has lain on the next bed, and has turned his life upside down, marking him with his love, as a dog marks his territory.

I love you.

Just three words. They give Remus wild heartbeats and a mix of happiness and panic more intense than he can imagine. He has been bitten by an animal, again. "A dog, this time". And he has remarked his destiny.