Carve Me Open / r.l. + s.b. /

Fracture

"Two things to remember in life:

Take care of your thoughts when you are alone, and take care of your words when you are with people."
-via Zig Ziglar

A/N: PLEASE GO ABOVE AND WATCH THE TRAILER I MADE BECAUSE IT'S PRETTY AND SAD.

So, I wanted to clarify a few things. As of mid-February of 2022, I am editing rising action chapters as fast as possible. This means that the content you've already read may not exactly line up with what's ahead. I'm in the middle of student teaching and getting my secondary education license, so my free time (what little I had to begin with) is even more limited. I'm working as much as I can while balancing my school work. If there's any confusion, I will answer your questions, but most of it is easy to get past (Mainly Lilienne and Jegulus plot points). Thank you for understanding!

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Hogwarts, February 1974 (Third Year)

Remus chewed his nail—the index finger where the skin around his cuticle had grown thin. The area was irritated, pulsing with a tinge of pink where blood threatened to burst through the final layer of skin. It stung; if his teeth clamped down hard enough, it would sever most of the hang-nail. But something always lingered—a tiny tag of skin that caught on everything, reminding Remus that it was present and persistent in its nagging. But pulling it sent prickles of pain up and down the ridges of his knuckles.

Does he rip it? Does he leave it be? His amber eyes focused only on what was ahead of him, not the pair of caramel eyes boarding holes into the side of his face from across the table.

"You said Lils would be here," Julienne huffed, taking yet another moment to cast an anxious glance around the library. But, of course, it wasn't any use; the castle was practically empty. Another Hogsmeade trip had taken precedence over their schoolwork. "She didn't go to Hogsmeade, did she?"

Remus couldn't bring himself to look at his friend—or maybe his girlfriend? They hadn't shared word over their brief, yet lingering, kiss or anything that had a dull twinge of romanticism in the air. Remus wasn't complaining, although it made navigating the aftermath puzzling. Julienne appeared on the same raft—aimlessly paddling through unknown, abysmal waters. Should he bring it up, if only to clear the air? What could he say to solve the problem?

The problem—what was it, again? Was it that he didn't like Julienne or wanted someone else? Remus couldn't distinguish what it was that made the memory of their lips clashing an absolute nightmare. He didn't want to find out. Perhaps if they discussed the ball, things would start to make sense? Remus broke his gaze to give Julienne a once-over. Her thick but exquisitely trimmed eyebrows were knotted in a tight furrow, so entangled in a grimace that Remus was unsure it would ever disappear. Her lips, usually upturned and parted in laughter, had been gnawed raw from fretting.

"Uh... Julie," he muttered, unsure if his voice punctured the defensive trance she'd surrounded herself with. "We need to talk."

She hadn't done anything wrong, Remus reminded himself. This wasn't her fault. How could she have known that he fancied blokes? Did he fancy blokes? Dorcas Meadowes was an Amazon goddess; even Remus could admit it. Was he attracted to her? Was fancying the same as being drawn? This entire ordeal had thrown his life in a barrel and kicked it down a fucking river—nothing was simple anymore. Everything was complicated by feelings or history, and for once, Remus would like to enjoy the peace and quiet of the library without the unfurling of a truth he did not seek.

Why couldn't he go back to the first year when their roles were defined and their hearts too immature to act on their own? When shit was painful but easy to understand. Remus didn't understand any of this.