𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 [𝐣.𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫]

25: 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔨 {𝔭𝔱. 𝔦}

Severus Snape had officially made it his goal to reign he'll upon Remus Lupin and his gang of misfits. That much was made clear after he was caught for the third time, slithering about as the full moon approached.

These impromptu appearances made him quite susceptible to Sirius's foul temper, which was only exacerbated by OWLs, the contemplation of any future involving having to find a job, and having to face his parents' ever growing wrath.

Meanwhile, Remus had his own problems to deal with. His moments of painlessness slowly grew shorter, and he found himself spending more time lying on the ground, trying to ease out the pain in his hips, or back.

He was no longer eleven, blessed with the ability of quick healing and tenacity. Remus Lupin was beginning to grow weary.

He felt like an old man, hobbling about up and down the stairs, with enough joint problems to send Madame Pomfrey into a heart attack if she ever found out. As it turned out, his incessant pains were not just an annoyance to himself.

"Merlin, will you just go to Pomfrey?" Sirius muttered for the third time that week. "You know she'll fix it in a jiffy. You look awful, moony. C'mon."

And the truth was that no matter how much well-meaninged complaining he could digest, he absolutely hated every time Sirius brought up his stupid limp or his stupid hunch or his stupid headaches. Because as far as he could tell, Remus Lupin was a big fucking eyesore, and Sirius couldn't wait to bring it up any chance he got.

Of course, if he ever were to confront Sirius about it, he'd open his eyes wide, and immediately begin to ramble in his perfect Sirius Black jargon about how he didn't mean it to come out as it did. And Remus would believe him because he knew that in spite of all his resentful thoughts, Sirius Black would never do anything to hurt him. And that never once had his words come from a place of judgment.

It didn't always erase that horrid feeling. That Remus's body was like a dirty dorm room. Constantly being nagged to be cleaned up, messy and broken and disgusting. But it did help.

But on the day of the full moon, Remus woke up with a body numbing, mind-splitting headache and immediately bolted for the shower. He turned the water from hot to scalding, trying to boil his bones and his stupid, degenerating body into mush that could be reformed into something salvageable. He knew it was a stupid, stupid idea, but at that very moment, he couldn't have cared less.

He could feel his breaths drawing tight in his lungs. The vapor was making it hard to breathe, like his lungs were drowning. He could feel his vision grow spotty and dark. He closed his eyes, only for a moment, trying to force his legs to stand sturdy. He didn't know if he'd begun swaying back and forth, or if that had just been an illusion. He quickly shut the hot water off, grabbing a towel.

He could hear knocking on the other end.

"Remus? Mate? Are you about finished?"

"Yeah, give me one second." He quickly pulled his robe over his head, panting and nauseous. He ignored how the material felt against his wet skin, hair leaving droplets down his back. He closed his eyes one final time, and opened the door, leaning heavily against the doorframe.

James tsked when he saw him, instinctively reaching to feel his forehead. Remus immediately batted him away, but James already had all he needed to know. "Hospital wing, my dear remoony. Go on, I'll walk you."

James's hair was plastered to his head, glasses fogging against the bridge of his nose. He was wearing a quidditch tee that was half drenched in sweat. James was always mental in the mornings, running and doing whatever exercises the quidditch fanatic could get his hands on.