Boys Will Be Bugs

Chapter 117: Drowning

Selene let him cry for a while, holding him in her arms as he broke down against her. She didn't force him to explain anything, which he was grateful for, because he wasn't ready to speak yet. He was tired, he was hollow, but more importantly, he was scared. Terrified, in fact, over what was going to happen next. He wasn't ready yet, as much as he thought he wanted to move on to the next stage of his life, he wasn't ready. This was all so sudden; just yesterday he'd been planning which classes to attend for the week and waiting for the full moon to be over so he could hang out by the lake with his friends.

Maybe that was the point, though. Just yesterday he was stagnant, waiting for life to hit him in the face. He was only just keeping himself afloat, comfortable enough to cease trying and letting himself get carried further away from the shore. He needed to start drowning, if only to force his fight or flight instincts to start kicking in. The problem with drowning, though, is that it hurt. He was sobbing, and he shook with grief inside his aunt's arms.

"He could have killed me," Remus shuddered, his voice barely audible.

"Who?" Selene asked, stroking the hair out of his eyes and holding him close.

"Sirius." Remus wiped his eyes on his sleeve and tried to keep his voice steady as he explained. It was so hard to explain, because it meant facing up to what had really happened. He felt as if he'd been violated, as if Sirius had taken his most vulnerable side and smashed it underfoot like it meant nothing. Sirius knew what the Wizarding World did to werewolves, how they treated them, how they were locked up without a second thought because no one could ever believe that a werewolf was anything other than a monster. His own father had thought that, and had unwittingly damned Remus to a life he was supposed to hate. How could Sirius have just thrown that back in his face? What if Remus had injured Snape, killed him, and was forced to live the rest of his life as a wanted man because of Sirius's own recklessness, burdened by the guilt of taking someone's life without his own knowledge? He didn't understand, he couldn't understand, and he wanted his aunt to make some sense of it for him, because he didn't think he could do it himself.

Selene was on his side, though. He thought he wanted that, the unwavering defence, but a part of him was desperate for some sort of explanation, a possible argument as to why Sirius had betrayed his trust like that. Was it Remus's fault? Had he done something without realising? The self-doubt was quick to seep in, but aunt Selene did her best to hold it back for him.

"You trusted him with that secret, and he betrayed you," she said. "If any of my patrons ever told an outsider about this place, I wouldn't forgive them either. This is life and death, and Sirius should have known that." He knew she was right, of course she was, but it pierced his heart like daggers. He hadn't felt like this since his mother had died, and he had been determined to never feel like this again. He supposed it was only wishful thinking. At least Selene agreed with him, for now at least.

"Selene?" he began, once he had finally calmed down enough to stop his breathing from becoming erratic. He cleared his throat, wiped his eyes on the back of his sleeve and crawled up against the wall, pulling his knees to his chest. "I don't want to stay at Hogwarts anymore," he said. "I... I can't stay at Hogwarts anymore."

"Okay." He knew she'd immediately agree to that part of the explanation; it seemed that hiding away runaways was more or less her job. Sirius still sometimes worked for her on the weekends for pocket money... a spark of curiosity made itself known as Remus briefly wondered if Sirius would ever work here again. He doubted that Selene would let him, but he wasn't sure. Perhaps when Remus left, Selene wouldn't actually care and she'd still happily employ him.

Maybe that wasn't a bad thing.

Maybe it wasn't a bad thing that they all just forgot about him. Remus shook his head. He was supposed to be angry, and yet the self-doubt always managed to rear its ugly head without any warning.