Nox (The Marauders, Wolfstar, Jily)

1: ohmygod i am so in love with this fic already

'Write back to me if things get worse, won't you?'

And that was the thing: things had gotten worse, but Remus Lupin had a made a conscious and definite decision not to write back.

He'd made the mistake of worrying her; he hadn't done so intentionally, and that was what was so terrible about it all - he hadn't considered the effects of a panicked letter: a letter that was the result of a lack of thinking and a mind muddled with thoughts and a definite lack of control, and those were just the characteristics that someone like him simply could not afford to exhibit.

And yet, to put it crudely, to put it as it was - he'd fucked up, and she was too much of a good person to remain persistent in her plights not to judge him or think different of him, because she would argue that it wasn't his fault, and perhaps yes, what he'd become wasn't his fault, but what he did as a result of it: the people he'd hurt - that was very much his fault.

Lily Evans was just too kind hearted, too concerned, and she'd remained persistent in her care for Remus since they'd been partnered together in Potions in first year - it was a subject that Remus struggled to grasp, often finding himself overwhelmed simply by being in the classroom due to the array of ingredients and aromas that affected his heightened senses. He'd gotten a little more accustomed to it by now, as he was starting his fifth year, but still, Lily had helped aged eleven at the start of first year, aged twelve at the end of first year when she'd figured out that he was indeed a werewolf, and Lily would continue to help him age fifteen as his 'affliction' continued to plague him.

And there was nothing wrong with that - nothing wrong with kindness and concern for others, in fact, they were qualities that Remus valued greatly, it was just the concern and desire to help in certain matters - matters that took from of great inky black lakes that Remus found himself drowning in, and suffocating by the mere presence of; these were the kinds of problems he couldn't drag kind, unaffected people like Lily Evans into, because they simply didn't deserve it.

It had been foolish for Remus to write to her in panic in worry and detail how his last transformation had been the worst one: how the wolf was growing more dangerous, encompassing every quality he loathed in the world, and indeed loathed in himself, because he was not a part of the wolf, but the wolf was a part of him.

The wolf didn't carry the marks and burdens of the boy upon the full moon; the wolf abided by no boundaries, and the wolf was unavoidable, stronger than him, and truly terrifying. Yet, Remus carried the marks and burdens of the wolf everyday, and even more now, as things had worsened, because they had been worsening for quite a while now, but here was the proof: here it lay unavoidable in the form of a deep red scar right across his face.

And looking at his reflection in the mirror, it was hard to picture the four year old boy who had once lived without this; who had lived in innocence and peace with skin unobstructed and unscathed by slashes of red and the white bumps and scars that served to ensure that he'd never forget them and the nights that had caused them: locked away, with no control and no choice but to do this to himself, because it was better him than someone else - someone innocent, some undeserving of all of this.

He was used to scars by now at fifteen years of age; his body carried eleven years of scars, yet none were quite as worrisome or had ever held so much weight and power in them as the most recent addition: a dark, prominent, rich red, slowly ebbing away into a brown - thick, deep, and inflicted with power, with purpose, and indeed stretching from just below the outer corner of his left eye, across his cheek and the bridge of his nose, and finishing where the right side of his jaw began.

The scar was unavoidable: it was the most obvious thing upon his face, because after one night he was no longer Remus Lupin, but the boy with that massive red scar, and he couldn't help but look at it and find purpose and malice in the wound, as if it worked to dehumanise him: to take away more of his humanity as the wolf strived to claim him completely, and he wondered and he worried, because the scar would hardly heal at all before school started and he feared people's reactions upon seeing it at first, and he feared Lily and how she might insist that she helped him after seeing the thing with her own eyes, and he feared his friends and their worries.