The Werewolf And The Teacher

The werewolf and the teacher

A wolfstar swapped roles AU! In which Remus just broke out and Sirius takes him home Angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of murder, vomit, love Wordcount: 2634

Shrill laughter echoed through the shrieking shack, making the atmosphere even scarier than it already was. One might have expected it to come from the ragged-looking man, starved, in a torn prisoner’s uniform. The same man on the countless wanted posters hung everywhere one’s steps might take one. Dangerous. Murderous. Calculating his every step with intimidating intelligence. That’s how everyone knew him. But it wasn’t him who was laughing. He merely had a mild smile on his lips, looking contradictorily gentle. Despite his sunken, scar-covered face and the dark rings under his eyes, he didn’t radiate any kind of murderous energy.

The usually friendly albeit a little crazy-seeming Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, however, did. He was laughing like a maniac:

“You found him you bloody genius!”

He laughed, looking at the escapee while clutching a piece of an antler the other had been holding only seconds before. It looked broken off, due to the owner being blown up to pieces and this being the biggest piece found. Or, as he had realized, the piece helping in faking a death. The death of a traitor.

“That worthless, cowardly, traitorous- Oh Remus you’ll feast on game tonight.”

He growled, but the alleged criminal put a hand on his shoulder:

“Sirius. Calm down.”

“Calm down, Remus?! Calm?! Down?! You spent TWELVE years in Azkaban for this-“

“I know, I was there.”

He replied, his grip tightening. The atmosphere was strange. Tense, with mismatched feelings about the whole situation. No, not mismatched feelings. Murder was a shared desire for them both. Mismatched levels of self-control. Sirius let his fury out unfiltered while Remus kept it down to make room for clear thoughts. He had gotten used to this, to pushing his feelings down for rationality. Otherwise, he could have never escaped his cell or the prison island. With only one day per month, full concentration had been crucial. His arms snaked around the much better-dressed man, kissing his neck softly.

“You reek.”

The comment drew a chuckle from Remus’s throat:

“Ah excuse me. I had very little time to shower between being imprisoned, breaking out, and being on the run.”

His hand found its way into the other’s, holding it and for a long moment, the shack was simply silent. The wind outside was howling but with his face still nuzzled against Sirius’ neck, Remus could feel his pulse calm down. Another soft kiss, hand squeeze, hum. All those little things he knew worked. They had always worked. And they worked now.

“Perhaps I should be so very gracious and let you take a bath at my house then?”

There was that smirk again. Cheeky and playful, the kind of smile almost nobody could get from Sirius these days. Not since Peter’s death. It changed to a huff, a frown, but not a serious one:

“You’re an idiot you know that? I should be calming your anger. Why are you never angry?”

“Shh… I am angry. You’re just… more expressive, professor.”

The teacher ground his teeth, sighing as he hit his head against Remus’ chest. And kissed the hand intertwined with his own in a longing, soft gesture. He hated feeling like this. He hated missing the easiness of believing in his former boyfriend’s guilt and the tragic heroic death of a friend he thought he knew.

“What about the murder?”

“Huh?”

“You offered me a bath. Can’t deny I need one. But wouldn’t that be more logical after I shower in blood?”

An elbow hit his ribs, a very much bearable pain compared to the past 12 years. Nothing compared to a full moon in tight, extra sturdy albeit not even slightly bigger cells. Months of starving himself, of fighting to not lose his slipping grip on sanity. And worst of all, the monthly breaking of his head about whether or not he’d receive his potion from the guards. His hand ran through Sirius’s hair, slowly, softly, basking in the feeling of silky black locks. A crude contrast to his own tangled, messy, uncomfortably greasy nest of hair. He’d always preferred it short but telling that to soul-sucking ghostly creatures such as the dementors… a wall would have been more likely to grant him a haircut.

“Ah shut up Remus… you looked like a shriveled string bean. And I'm not committing murder with someone so nasty. Can’t be seen dating someone like that.”

“Oh, so we’re back together then? You don’t think I’m an evil murderer anymore?”

The other was quiet at that. The question hit a bad spot. He HAD been thinking Remus was a murderer. Reluctantly. The perceived-to-be perfect, quiet, all Os student? A perfect disguise next to rowdy, mischievous bullies. It seemed unlikely, even with his affliction. But how calm he had been, according to eyewitnesses.

“I wasn’t calm you know?”

Remus said as if he’d read Sirius’ mind.

“I was in shock. Numb. I knew I was done for. Bloodthirsty werewolf. Just killed a deer, there’s a piece of the antler. Muggles dead. Nothing stopping him from mauling poor, young, brave James Potter. Must have eaten him, bones and all.”

“But it wasn’t a full moon.”

“That didn’t matter to them, Sirius. It didn’t matter to you, did it? My affliction was enough to make them think I’d killed him.”

Sirius sighed in frustration, putting his wand into his belt before reluctantly twisting out of the taller one’s grasp. The scent of cinnamon was lost from the other’s immediate proximity, and he growled softly in disapproval as he straightened back up to full height.

“We’ve talked too much. He’s probably-“

“Remus, he was gone before we even started talking. We’ll find him again.”

He was much calmer now. Still out for Potter’s blood, but calmer and more receptive to rational thought. Deep down he knew this couldn’t be rushed. A short touch to his partner’s arm, and they found themselves in front of Sirius’ home. Aside from Remus throwing up bile from the sudden apparition, it was silent. No wonder, in the middle of the night.

“You haven’t eaten. Dinner?”

He asked cheekily upon glancing at the small, chunkless puddle.

“Don’t look at it, Pads…”

“I don’t listen to convicts on the run, Moony.”

Remus opened his mouth to complain again but Sirius was already busy making his house appear between 11 and 13. They went inside, and immediately, he felt at home. It smelled completely of Sirius, of cinnamon and books, and faintly of dust, no matter how clean the house was. Just as he remembered it. Of course, he hadn’t been there often. A half-blood werewolf wasn’t exactly someone welcomed warmly by Walburga Black. He was certain her portrait was somewhere in the house, but he didn’t have the power to think much about it at the moment. He sat down at the kitchen table, all his forcibly gathered energy now leaving him as the past months caught up to him.

“You’re crying.”

Sirius informed him helpfully, without even looking. Even after all these years, the subtle shift in breathing betrayed even the quietest of Remus’ tears. It was intuition, one he hadn’t lost even when believing him to have betrayed their best friend. A different smell soon filled the kitchen, savory and delicious. Comforting.

“Roasted chicken?”

“Yeah, it always comforted you after a full moon. You used to stuff your face with it every time.”

Laughing felt impossible, even though Remus badly wanted to. But he was shaking with seemingly unstoppable yet soft tears. He felt safe to cry now, and frankly, he was too tired not to.

“You’re not making Kreacher cook.”

“Nah. You look like you need something made with love. Kreacher would probably spit in it.”

“Tss... I couldn’t care less after eating rats for months, Pads.”

Sirius grinned at that. Not because he found his partner’s suffering funny, of course, but rather because it was easier to joke about it than to process just how messed up it was. He put the finished food down on the table, briefly hesitating, but ended up sitting next to Remus. A deep sigh left him:

“Eat slow, Moony.”

He did. The hunger should have made it more difficult to stick with small, slow bites after starving for so long but honestly, the myriad of other emotions, mostly unidentifiable ones, made the food quite hard to swallow. A warm hand found its way on his thigh, and it seemed absurd that it had been Sirius who had laughed like a madman just earlier. Remus looked up into sympathetic grey eyes.

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’m a rebel I do what I want.”

“Pff. An idiot is what you are.”

A kiss on his cheek shut him up fast, and he instinctively reached out to keep Sirius closer. 12 years apart. 12 years of wrong suspicions. And it had only taken clearing up to make their flame spark again. God how he had missed those soft lips. The scent of cinnamon, of cigarettes, of him. It felt wrong to come back to old feelings so fast and yet he had learned that life was too short for regret and hesitancy.

“You’re crying again.”

“I know.”

The chicken remained only partly eaten as Sirius offered to take a bath first instead. To calm Remus’ nerves and to get him clean and out of all those reminders of his imprisonment. He counted in his head, knew it was too close to the next full moon to get wolfsbane potion, and sighed. At least Remus was free this time. Could run freely in a safe and hidden space. And wouldn’t be confined to a tiny cell. It must have been awful. Sirius could barely imagine the pain and fear, now that he didn’t think the other deserved it anymore.

The bathroom hadn’t changed at all. Still just as strangely fancy as ever, and Remus would never be able to wrap his hand around the fact that someone would put so much special effort into bathroom décor. Of course, Sirius hadn’t really changed the house, so it hadn’t been his choice, and overall Remus wasn’t sure why he was even overthinking it so much.

“Bubbles?”

“Always bubbles.”

The warm water was like a blessing. Remus heard himself sigh out loudly without meaning to, looking at the other man for a long moment:

“Are you going to join, or will I have to beg for it?”

“You want me to? Are you sure?”

Sirius asked and the uncertainty behind his words was audible. He was clearly still feeling guilty about not fighting for Remus, and clearly, the other’s clever mind was running with just as many fears as his own. Was it just a temporary thing? Just the exhaustion that made Remus so lenient? So forgiving? So-

“Earth to Padfoot. Please join me. I want you to, really. I know what you’re thinking, and I need you to stop thinking it.”

Remus said, pulling him back into reality. It had been ages since they’d shared a bath, or any naked moment really, and it felt just as nice as he’d remembered. The warmth against his back, the arms around him, the soft scratch of beard against his neck. He wanted to joke ‘you need a shave’ but really, the last thing he wanted right now was to say anything at all.

Remus held him tight as if scared to wake up from just a rare, nice dream if he didn’t. Or scared that Sirius would leave him alone again. He couldn’t be alone again. It would kill him for sure this time.

“Please don’t leave me. I’ll try to be a good partner.”

“I know, Moony. I’m not going anywhere.”

Sirius replied, tilting his head back to look at him. His words were incredibly assuring, the determination behind them undeniable. Maybe it would be okay.

Soon after, Sirius was helping Remus wash his hair, working some magic to shorten it back to a comfortable length. A bit too short perhaps, but that was inevitable with how tangled and matted it was. But he looked more human again, more free. Less like a banshee. He kissed the top of Remus’ head, smelling his hair:

“You smell like me now darling.”

The other chuckled at last, utterly infatuated. He felt like a newborn man, a bit hungry still but mainly tired. The warmth, bath, and feeling of safety were crashing down on his strained state, and wanted nothing more than just one safe, nightmare-free night:

“Do you think you have a room free?”

“Only against cuddles as payment.”

There was a long silence as the two of them simply looked into the mirror. One scarred, unhealthily skinny frame against a ghostly pale, better-fed one. Both handsome in their own regard, a contrast between the beauty of survival and the beauty of genes, both holding their own unique depth of pain.

“Sirius listen…“

“Shush. You don’t start with that again. Not again, not after all this. I’m grown now and I’ve been a shit boyfriend. And I’ve been shit. You don’t get to say that I don’t deserve you now. Werewolf, alleged murderer, I don’t care. I never have.”

“Sirius…”

“No. Shut up. This is my house. No self-deprecation under this roof. You’ll come to my bedroom, put on a pyjama and then we’ll go to bed. As a couple. You understand?”

There was hardly a point in arguing with this determination. But Dementors and captivity had only extinguished the last bit of self-esteem Remus had had. A werewolf. A half-blood. A cowardly bookworm. Unable to save his friends. Unable to prove his innocence. Frankly, not at all suitable for a man like Sirius Black. Someone so very brave, mature even after his past as a bully and a mischief-maker. He’d gone through just as much pain, if not more, than Remus yet came out of it a handsome, brave, good man.

“I said no self-deprecation.”

Sirius spoke, recognizing the lack of light in the other’s eyes, and pulled him away from the mirror:

“None of that. You went through 12 years in Azkaban and survived. Hell, you didn’t lose yourself like others have there, Remus. Do you know how much strength that takes?”

“I only-“

“Nothing ‘only’. That is not ‘only’. You held onto yourself and you *escaped*. After a transformation no less.”

“Okay.”

It was all Remus could say. He was too tired to argue, and he knew that whatever he said would just loop back around to the same discussion. It was almost relieving to just leave it at that for the moment, though he knew the self-hatred would come back to haunt him as it always did.

“Okay.”

Sirius replied. Food still seemed out of the question and so the next step was going to bed. Sirius in his favorite black bathrobe, which Remus was certain to be hexed with a charm to keep it clean and good-smelling. And Remus in a too-short, too-tight striped pyjama, which was likely left over from whatever strange messed up sterile ideology the Black family had going on. He felt a bit silly, being in stripes again, but much cleaner and more comfortable.

“Oh, Merlin.”

Remus sighed hard in bliss as he sank into the mattress:

“My back thanks you Pads.”

“Just your back~?”

“Pff, and me.”

He playfully rolled his eyes at the other, humming contently at being spooned from behind. It felt safe and warm, with no responsibility from his side. It made it far easier to relax. A nice way to prove that Sirius had his back even if it was just during sleep. A kiss landed on his neck, his eyes fluttering closed as exhaustion won him over for good:

“I love you, my star.”

“I love you more, crescent.”

The Werewolf And The Teacher

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