One Night The Marauders & Co Talked About Growing Old Together.

One night the Marauders & Co talked about growing old together.

Marlene and Dorcas were making plans about traveling the world together.

Lily and James were looking forward to taking their children to platform 9 3/4.

Sirius was planning all the pranks he would play and dreamt about the future shared with Remus and all his loved ones.

Peter was just looking forward to being in the company of his friends.

Everyone was laughing and having a good time, but Remus was sitting silently.

Lily asked him what’s wrong and he said “I’m a werewolf. I’m probably not going to live that long.”

Everyone froze.

Then Sirius looked at him and said “I promise you, i’ll make sure, you’re gonna outlive all of us, Moony.”

He kept his promise.

Remus likes to read books and climb fences.

He likes to wander off into different worlds where he can be a bystander. Where he can observe and judge and love and feel rage and hate and sob about the rise and fall of glorious empires, or insignificant beggers. He can see how wounds are ripped and tended to, can feel them bleed and ooze and the itching of them healing back together without - for a change - having to leave the safety of whatever warm and dry place he settled into while crawling in between musty old pages full of possibilities. It’s nice to breathe and let others be ripped apart sometimes.

But then James wonders about that muggle game called Bowling and Remus wonders how his Prefect status can help to get them into Slughorns’ cauldron cabinet for a tournament that Lily will win. And during too hot summer nights, when they all crave sweetness after a long day of fooling around, skin sunburned, feet blistered, he jumps the fences of an orchard without second-guessing, all long legs, strong arms and holds out a hand for Pete and Sirius, joking about the absence of their growing-spurts while James smashes into the soft grass face first beside them and Lily howls so loud with laughter that he’s sure they will get caught and he is prepared to run until his lungs are burning but they aren’t and he later kisses the sweet taste of cherries from the corner of Sirius’ mouth and muses that bliss can grow on trees after all.

And back at school, only a few will realize that the bookish demeanor of the quiet boy, the perfect, the one who never serves detention is actually an act of climbing fences because Remus refuses to bend, to accept the consolation prize of a life in multicoloured poverty that awaits those who are haunted by Lycanthropy. The moon steals his days by pulling at his bones and for that, he fills his weeks to the brim with work, making sure to have every extra chance possible for when the time comes to leave this castle.

“Oh,” he mutters as he’s about to pass out after a 16 hour day, leaned against James’ shoulder, “I figured out the problem… you know… hexing the bloody pumpkins…?”

“It’s alright Moons,” Sirius softly assures him, pulling his legs into his lap while James carefully places Remus’ head in his own.

“Yeah, the pumpkins can wait till tomorrow,” James mutters while Peter starts looking for a blanket.

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monbeauloup

4 years ago