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Old Wounds	By : Sasunarufan13 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Remus/Sirius Views: 1351 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor make any profit from it. J.K.Rowling owns it

Chapter List
- 1-Old Wounds
- 1
Author's note: This oneshot in Remus' pov takes place after the events in chapter 20 of Survival of the Fittest. Reading that story first is recommended as this oneshot refers to it and can't really stand on its own without becoming a bit confusing.
This took me a bit to finish as it seemed more difficult to write than the one of Severus and Lucius, but it got finished at last. I hope I didn't screw up too much. I tried not to rush it.
Warnings: angst; mentions of past abuse; established slash; insecurity and self confidence issues; mentioned MPreg
I hope you like this oneshot!

Old Wounds
"Do you really think Harry got those wounds from some traps?" Sirius asked softly when they made their way to Minerva's office.
Remus threw him a quick glance, putting his wand in his pocket. "Why wouldn't he? You've seen for yourself how riddled with traps that house was," he replied lowly, rolling his shoulders in discomfort. He had never thought Albus had knowledge of so many nasty spells and curses. Those weren't simple Tripping hexes or Slash curses. Most curses and hexes present in that house entered deeply into the area of Dark magic. It was a wonder nobody had ever noticed the amount of foul, Dark magic clinging to that house.
"Yes, but …" Sirius trailed off, clearly hesitating.
"But what?" Remus frowned, whispering the password to the gargoyle, who slid to the side slowly.
They waited on the same step for the staircase to bring them to the office.
Sirius shook his head almost sluggishly and bit his lower lip. "I don't know … The places where he got hit just seem rather weird for traps to hit."
Remus was quiet for a few seconds, before he sighed. "It's not like we can do anything about it now. The wounds are healing and he and the baby are fine. If we push him, he'll clamp up."
"I know." Sirius grimaced.
"Come in!" Minerva called out as soon as she registered their presence in front of her closed door.
She regarded them expectantly when they entered the circular room, placing her intertwined hands on the desk, covering a couple of parchments. She studied them with sharp, gleaming eyes.
"You both look like you have gone through hell," she murmured and gestured for them to sit down. "Tea?"
They both nodded mutely and sat down. Remus was beyond exhausted and he wanted nothing more than to return to their quarters and just curl up on the couch in front of the fire or burrow himself in their bed. This day had seemed endless and he just wished for it to be over. Even their success in retrieving Ravenclaw wasn't enough to put him in high spirits after the things he had seen and experienced in that awful house.
How he had ever thought that Albus was a good man, he would never understand.
"We managed to get Ravenclaw out of that house," Sirius started after he had taken two big gulps of his hot tea, which made Remus wince in response at the thought of how scalding hot the liquid must have felt.
He himself waited for the tea to cool a bit, not having the strength to cast a Cooling charm on it.
"Severus has brought her to the other two Founders," Remus continued and took a tentative sip from his tea. Still a bit too hot for his taste, but it would have to do for now.
"I hope nothing too bad happened," she said apprehensively.
"We didn't get out of it scotch free, but at least none of us died," Sirius replied darkly, putting his cup down rather harshly.
The Headmistress continued to question them, asking about the various traps in the house and the wounds they had suffered. After a while, Remus noticed Sirius' foot bobbing quickly up and down and his hands were clenching and unclenching.
After knowing his lover for so many years, it didn't take him long to deduce that Sirius was becoming very impatient, his nerves stretched thin, and if Remus didn't finish this conversation soon, Minerva would discover why rising Sirius' ire was not the wisest thing to do.
"And that's how we got her portrait out of the house," Remus concluded, delicately placing his cup on the desk. "No offense, Minerva, but both Sirius and I are rather exhausted and not in the mood to attend dinner in the Great Hall. Would you mind if we retired to our quarters now?"
She waved him away. "Go on. Rest up; don't worry about dinner," she told them gently and they bid her goodbye.

On the way to their quarters they passed a couple of students who were making their way to the Great Hall; the students barely spared them a glance, too enraptured in the conversation they were having. Remus looked at them until he could no longer see them, thinking about the stark difference that existed between Harry and the rest of the student body. While they complained about their homework or chattered about their lovers complete with giggling and rolling eyes, Harry was preparing himself for a baby and seeking out the Founders just to have a chance at defeating the one who wanted to kill him now.
He couldn't help but question whether Harry had ever had a normal time in his life so far. His life with the Dursleys had not exactly been a good one and it still made him wish he could release the wolf inside of him and sick it on those vile people. Then Harry had arrived at Hogwarts where he had to battle for his life almost every year so far.
The war was supposed to have ended all the misery in their lives. The ending of it should have been a new beginning for all of them, allowing them to live the life they should have been able to live so many years ago. This year was supposed to have brought on the change.
Instead, they were still fighting for their lives – only now it wasn't a threat against the whole Wizarding community, but a localized one; only targeting the ones close to Harry.
The portrait threw them a sympathetic look once they reached it and swung open, allowing them to enter their own quarters.
Remus took a deep breath, inhaling the mixed scent of burning wood together with the familiar spicy scent of his lover, who had dropped down on the couch with his head against the back.
"I've never been so glad to see these walls again," he muttered, rubbing over his eyes.
Remus smiled weakly and threw his robes on top of Sirius'. The house elves would take care of them and clean them in a few hours.
He shivered slightly, feeling inexplicably cold and sat down in the arm chair closest to the fire, hoping it would be strong enough to chase away the sudden chill clinging to his body.

The gentle crackling of the fire and the merely dancing of the flames were not enough to completely hold Remus' attention; after a while he became aware of the heavy look fixed at his back and he wiggled a bit, trying to find a more comfortable spot on the arm chair.
He knew what Sirius wanted and he wasn't in the mood for it now.
Or ever, actually.
"Remus …"
"No," Remus replied curtly, resisting the urge to curl up tighter. His heart started to beat quicker in response to the apprehension spiking up in him. Couldn't Sirius just pretend he hadn't seen anything? Why did they have to talk about it? He already felt humiliated enough by letting himself get swept away by the curse – he didn't need to relive that moment all over again.
All he wanted was just to forget about it, pretend it never had happened.
Was that too much to ask for?
Apparently it was, because Sirius said, "You know we need to talk about this, Moony."
Remus scowled at the fire; for the first time despising the nickname his friends had gifted him with so many years ago. It represented all that was wrong about him and all that he could never change.
"No, we don't," he retorted stubbornly. "Just forget about it, Sirius."
The older man snorted harshly and the couch creaked softly when he shifted around. "Just like you told me to not talk about my nightmares?" he asked sarcastically.
The younger wizard could feel himself flush in shame. "That's different," he mumbled, barely audible.
"Oh? How so? Because those nightmares were worse than what you went through?"
"I'm over it!" Remus raised his voice; annoyance and shame battling inside of him. He wanted to disappear right now; he didn't want to talk about it with his lover, didn't want to relive it again. It was all in the past anyway. What was the point in talking about something that couldn't ever be fixed?
"You don't get over something like that, Moony," Sirius replied softly. "It's always there. You can learn to deal with it, but it's never going to disappear."
Remus squeezed his eyes shut and barely resisted the urge to cover his ears.
"Weren't you the one who convinced Harry that it was better to talk about his past when he wanted to refuse?"
He swallowed and opened his eyes again, rubbing a hand over his knee; feeling the rough texture of his trousers against his sensitive palm. "That was different," he muttered, staring down at the floor. "He …"
"He had a shitty childhood, just like you," Sirius interrupted him harshly and Remus couldn't supress the cringe at hearing the harsh tone directed at him.
He was always cringing and hiding, wasn't he? No wonder the Sorting Hat had wanted to sort him into Ravenclaw at first – he wasn't nearly as brave as Sirius or as James had been. They had been the embodiments of everything Gryffindor had presented, while Remus had remained in their shadows the entire time. He had been satisfied with that; after all, he hadn't had any friends before he met them, so he had been all too happy to accept their hand in friendship. They had given him a place to call home, people to call family. It hadn't mattered back then that he hadn't been as courageous or as outgoing as them. Back then, he thought they had balanced each other out: James and Sirius had been the boisterous and popular ones, while he brought the scales in balance by being quiet, studious and calm.
But he had been kidding himself all along, hadn't he?
Just like the name that had been branded on him – Dark Creature – he would forever remain in the shadows, while his friends bathed in the light.
"The difference between you and Harry is that Harry was willing to confront his past and talk about it," Sirius continued mercilessly, relentlessly.
The fire was graced with a bitter smile; he had nearly forgotten how ruthless Sirius could be if he wanted something. It didn't matter that they were best friends and lovers; Sirius wouldn't sugar-coat his words, wouldn't soften the blow.
"What do you want me to say?" Remus spoke nearly inaudibly; his hands clenching around his knees like the claws they turned into once a month. "You already know what happened when I was younger, so I don't see why …"
"What memories did you see in that bathroom?" Sirius interjected and Remus froze when he heard him stand up and approach him.
His lover lingered behind his chair, but his presence felt suffocating as if he was hanging all over Remus instead of standing behind him.
"Sirius, please, I don't want to …"
Remus' pleading tone was ignored. "You can't tell me it was nothing when I saw you trying to scratch your eyes out and howling like a wounded animal." Sirius' breath hitched and he sounded rough when he continued, "Shit, I thought seeing you undergo the transformation once a month was bad enough, but this … Please, Remus, tell me what you remember."
"You're not going to shut up about it, huh?" Remus released a defeated chuckle.
A hand came to rest on his shoulder; the warm weight feeling searing against his cold skin. "Talking helps. It won't take it away, won't undo things, but it helps," Sirius told him quietly. "It's one of the reasons why I agreed to talk to you about my nightmares, because I felt better afterwards."
Remus' shoulders slumped and he sighed heavily, feeling exhaustion creeping up on him. Wordlessly he pulled on Sirius' hand until he understood the silent hint and walked around, sitting down on the arm, so that his thigh was pressed against Remus' forearm, allowing their body heat to mingle.
"I was remembering some of the things the villagers used to say about me," he started quietly and through a lot of pausing, hesitating and in a halting speech, he told his lover what he had been remembering when the curse took a hold of him: the feeling of stones smacking against his legs and back; the agony of hot boils erupting all around his stomach and chest; the insults snapped at him; the slurs; the isolation he had felt when adults gathered their children and led them away, just to make certain they wouldn't get infected; the burning shame of being different, of being a lesser being; hearing his parents trying to come up with a way to find him schooling; the memory of some teachers at Hogwarts who regarded him distrustful throughout all his school years …
The rage at the injustice being heaped upon him; the constant question why he had been hurt while he never had done anything, but be his father's son. The never ending battle of trying to be accepted, while knowing he never would be, because of the creature inside of him. The worthlessness lurking in him whenever he saw the numerous scars on his body – because not all of them had been the result of a duel.
He talked and talked and talked; a waterfall of words and build up emotions freely spilling over. He wasn't only talking about the memories he had been forced to witness again in the old bathroom; he was pouring out every insecurity he had felt, every painful memory, all his fears …
By the time he stopped talking, the sun had set and was replaced by the moon, which bathed part of the living room in a silver light.
His throat hurt, like he had swallowed burning needles, his head felt both heavy and light; his eyes were uncomfortably dry thanks to the tears which had dried up by now. He would feel ashamed of the way he had spilt all his insecurities and fears if he wasn't so exhausted and empty.
He couldn't even find it in him to care about what Sirius thought about him now, how he must surely think that his lover was weak.
He just hung his head down and listened to their breathing and the soft crackling of the fire. His breathing was harsh, loud, laboured as if he had been running for a very long time; Sirius' was slow and nearly inaudible. He had barely moved during the entire time Remus had been pouring his heart out, except for the fingers that slowly raked through Remus' hair, scratching his scalp with blunt fingernails.
"Why did you never say anything about this before?" Sirius whispered eventually, sounding aghast.
Remus shrugged helplessly. "I didn't think it was necessary. It wasn't as if you could do much about it. Most of that happened before I met you and James."
"That doesn't mean you had to keep quiet about it! You know James and I would have listened to you if you wanted to talk about it," Sirius said, a strange infliction to his voice.
"I know," Remus sighed. "I do know that, but … I don't know. I just … I didn't want to think about it." He shrugged helplessly again, rubbing over his cheeks. The dried tear marks on his cheeks made the skin feel a bit cold.
It was silent for a while.
"How are you feeling?" Sirius asked softly; his hand resting immobile in Remus' neck.
"Exhausted. Light headed," Remus admitted. "Feeling like I want to kick your arse for forcing me to do this."
Sirius laughed softly and the hand in Remus' neck squeezed him lightly. "But that's not really different from any other time, now is it?" he said teasingly and then sobered up. "I know you hate talking about this, but you really needed it."
"Maybe you're right," Remus said reluctantly and then finally looked up to glare at his lover, who blinked bemused. "I will kick your arse if you make me do it again, though. And I'm not joking about it. I'm not going to talk about this again."
Sirius pursed his lips, looking ready to protest, but the fierce look in Remus' glowing eyes made him rethink his decision to argue and he acquiesced, exhaling loudly. "All right, already. I won't make you talk about it again – unless you want to," he added casually, giving his lover a side eyed glance.
Remus snorted. As if he would be up for pouring his heart out like that ever again. One time was more than enough for him.
Suddenly he felt a bit guilty for urging Harry to talk about his home life, when the younger man had been so reluctant about it. He was quite the hypocrite, wasn't he? Convincing his honorary godson to spill the beans, while he didn't want to do it about his own past.
"You hungry?" Sirius broke through his thoughts. He had removed himself from the couch, stretching his back and rubbing his arse with a grimace. "My arse feels numb," he complained, narrowing his eyes at the arm chair.
"Now you know how I feel sometimes," Remus couldn't help but quip and he smiled when Sirius let out his barking laughter, his head thrown back.
The atmosphere in the room turned upside down; it became lighter and somehow felt warmer, despite the fire nearly dying out. This was how it should be between them: light and comfortable with each other, without being dragged down by sour pasts. Remus' past had no right to interfere in his relationship with Sirius and he was relieved that despite knowing Remus' most dirty secrets now, Sirius hadn't changed the way he acted around him.
It comforted and made him feel at peace more than he ever thought it would.
"Yes, but your numb arse is a direct consequence of a very good time. My numb arse now is just the chair being a son of a bitch," Sirius pointed out; his eyes glittering amused.
Remus rolled his eyes and stood up, steadying himself when his left leg refused to cooperate; Merlin he hated it when his limbs fell asleep. The sensations of needles pricking him was something he didn't prefer at all.
While he was waiting for his leg to feel normal again, he answered Sirius' previous question, "And I think I'll skip dinner tonight. I'm too tired to eat."
"Yeah, me too," Sirius muttered, shaking his head. He cocked his head and held out his hand. "Let's go sleep."
Remus regarded the stretched out hand bemused, before he reached out and clasped it tightly, feeling the familiar warmth surrounding him. "Yes, let's go to bed," he said softly and they wandered into their bedroom, where they dumped their clothes on the floor and crawled inside the bed clad in only their underwear.
They shifted around until they laid comfortably, wrapped up in each other's arms, sharing each other's body heat.
Sirius was the first to drop off, snoring very lightly in Remus' hair while the younger man gazed contemplatively at the small beam of moonlight forcing its way through the narrow gap in the curtains.
In just a week, the moon would be completely full again and he would be forced to turn into the thing he most despised: a monster. For those nights, he would be forced to stay locked up in the mind of the beast, having Sirius as his anchor to reality.
His hands unconsciously tightened for a few seconds, before they relaxed.
But that was not now. Now he was still human and in complete control of himself.
He might never be able to completely accept himself, might never be fully confident – but it was enough to know that he had Sirius at his side; someone who accepted both the good things and the bad things about him.
A man who could see past his flaws and acknowledge his good points.
A man who he loved and who loved him in return without any restrictions.
He might not have the perfect life he could have had if he hadn't been infected – but at this moment he thought he was pretty damn close to having it.

AN2: A bit heavy *coughs* But well, fluff could hardly be put in after the events in Dumbledore's house ... What do you think of it? Please leave your thoughts behind in a review!
Cuddles
Melissa
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Old Wounds