Archive of Our Own ^beta

Remus is in a haze. The train cart benches have never been this comfortable, but maybe he was just tired. He had had a long day— and the train had lulled him to sleep.

The voices of his friends muffle in the background as he sleeps. He hears James laugh, something so pure, and Remus tries not to smile. If he does, Sirius would most likely make fun of him.

Peter pipes up with a one-liner, though Remus’s brain was too muddy to figure out what it was. It makes Sirius and James laugh, though, and Remus wishes he heard it.

He sinks further into sleep.

The next time he tetters on the edge of wakefulness, the cart is quieter. His friends were speaking together in hushed tones, most likely not to wake him.

It’s always good when he goes to Hogwarts. No matter how hard the summer had been, how tiring the transformations were, it was always good when he returned to school. Returns because it had started to feel like he was only visiting his home for the summer, rather than living there.

It was his third time, he thinks. Third year.

He couldn’t wait to see Sirius effortlessly pass his Defense Against the Dark Arts class. He couldn’t wait to laugh at James as he freezes from head to toe when Lily gives him the pencil he had dropped. He couldn’t wait to hear Peter call out all of them in the middle of the night, or say some random shit to make them all laugh when they were supposed to be sleeping.

To see Dorcas, Marlene, Mary. To see everybody.

He felt the claws of sleep pull further. And then he started to dream.

//\

Remus was pacing the floor of his apartment. His heart thundered in his chest, so loud he couldn’t hear the clock ticking. Why wasn’t he home? It was late, and Sirius said he would only visit the Potters for no longer than two hours. Remus had work to do, so he stayed behind.

It’s been five hours.

A knock on the door makes everything in the room freeze. He rushes to the door and yanks it open, only… it wasn’t Sirius. It was Penelope, the Potter’s neighbor.

Her eyes were streaked with tears as she heaved, clearly having run all the way here. Remus crouches down and grabs her arms to help steady her, but she flinches back.

“What is it?” Remus demands, not sure if he even wants to hear the news.

“It’s the Potters—” she gasps out. “They— oh, my.”

“The Potters?” Remus asks. “What? Tell me.”

Penelope gulps, her face full of fear. “You-know-who.”

“What?” Remus yells. He releases his tightening grip on her arms, and Penelope slumps against his doorframe. “Explain, don’t just stand there.”

Penelope opens her mouth. “There’s no salt on this chicken.”

“There’s no salt on this chicken,” Sirius complains.

Peter raises his eyebrows. “I’m sorry this food isn’t up to your royal standards.”

James rolled his eyes. “Would you like it coated in gold?”

Sirius shoots him a glare. “Don’t pretend like you aren’t rich, too.”

“Okay,” James grins. “But you are ‘ Noble House of Black’ rich. I’m ‘ my family worked for their wealth’ rich.”

Peter shakes his head. “Rich people, amiright, Remus?”

Remus can’t speak. He felt as if something bad was about to happen, but he didn’t know what. He tries to open his mouth to say something, but no sound comes out.

In his distress, he floats towards the land of the waking.

//\

Everything is still fuzzy, but Remus’s heart was beating far too fast. He couldn’t remember his dream, but whatever it was, it must have been some kind of nightmare. He lets it calm. Nothing bad could happen when he was with his friends.

Hogwarts was good.

A plastic package crinkles. One of them was probably eating something. His stomach aches, longing for food, but sleep was the more important thing on the forefront of his mind.

Good. He was good.

“Don’t touch him,” someone whispers. James, his brain supplies.

“I think it’s funny,” Sirius responds.

“Being funny isn’t reason enough,” Peter sighs. Huh. Peter sounds odd.

“I think it is,” Sirius says, matter-of-factly.

Remus feels something poke him in the side. When it pokes him again, he groans.

A pause. Remus gets poked again.

“Sirius,” Remus mumbles. “Stop.”

“What did he say?” James asks.

“He said, ‘Seriously, stop’, so you should stop.” Peter huffs, sounding much sassier than Remus had ever heard him.

“He can do whatever he wants, I think,” James laughs.

“He probably needs sleep,” Peter adds.

“He’s a grown adult, sleeping in a cart for the students. How can he expect not to get poked?” Sirius defends himself.

That was— wrong, right? Remus was thirteen years old. Sirius was probably just making fun of his height.

Remus shivers, feeling a chill enter the air. He suddenly remembers his dream. Remembers Penelope, opening her mouth and uttering the words that damned his life forever.

But that can’t be right, right?

Suddenly, he hears his friends shout. Someone screams, and Remus is immediately shocked into awareness. He was running on pure instinct as he locked onto the Dementor sucking Jame’s soul out. He pulls out his wand, yelling out the enchantment with all of the sleepy, happy feelings he had been feeling just moments before.

“Expecto patronum!” The light is almost blinding. Remus doesn’t pay attention as his patronus chases the Dementor away. He falls to his knees and gathers James in his arms. He was muttering something, most likely a bad memory. Remus tries to shake him awake, the other two people in the cabin gathered around their friend. 

James opens his eyes.

And Remus’s happiness crashes down.

Bright green eyes look up at him, green eyes he knew, but still green eyes that did not belong to this body.

“Harry!” A girl shouts. The boy’s gaze turns to focus on his two friends, who say something else to him, but Remus wasn’t paying attention.

He had been so blissfully ignorant. Remus knows now that deciding to ride to Hogwarts in the cart he and the rest of the Marauders would always ride in was a bad idea. It didn’t bring him comfort, it only brought back an ache of burning nostalgia so powerful that if not ignored, would create a Dementor right then and there.

Remus wished for his life back. He wished to go back to the times when it was good to go to Hogwarts.

The best he could do was reach inside his briefcase and pull out a bar of chocolate.

“Eat this,” Remus says after finally finding his voice.

His best friend’s son looks at him like Remus just told him that Hogwarts food was terribly seasoned.