chaoslvrrrr

[chaoslvrrrr]

PARANOID ⋆˚꩜｡⭑.ᐟ

Paranoid, paranoid, paranoid (ayy) Things feel out of order Look a, look around, I'm not sure, uh Para-paranoia, you know Noid - Tyler The Creator

Synopsis: Days leading up to the ultimate event of October 31st, 1981. From Remus' point of view with Sirius and how it all fell into place, well more so, how it all fell apart.

Taglist: fighting, Voldemort, angst!! all that jazz (honestly nothing too crazy)

Word Count: 2.5k

This is part one! Part two will be out eventually :)

It was October 16th, 1981. The war was still going on, and it seemed like there would be no end, no light at the end of the tunnel. More wizards were getting killed every day by Voldemort and his army of deatheaters.

To Remus, these wizards were not just his fellow former classmates; they were his friends. His friend Marlene Mckinnon and her family were just slaughtered a couple weeks ago, and the tension within The Order of the Phoenix rose. Remus lost trust in everyone and everything in his life.

How could he possibly trust anyone in his life, in the order, when there was word of a spy among them?

Though what was worse than the tension between his friends was the tension between him and his love.

Remus stood over the sink washing the dishes that had accumulated over the week. He was well aware their home was quaint at most; it was only a one-bedroom, one-bathroom apartment flat that they rented every month. It wasn’t much, but he took pride in making sure it was clean and put together. Maybe he cared how it looked to other people, or maybe he cared to have something to care about and put energy into that wasn’t the war.

“They keep talking about that spy, y'know.” The man with the black hair walked into the kitchen and leaned back along the countertops.

“Sirius.” Remus spoke flatly, “I told you I don’t want to talk about that in our home.”

It was true, he did say that, he made it very clear to Sirius when they joined the order that their home life stayed private and something that was only between the two of them.

“Why Moony? Hm? Why can’t we talk about the one thing plaguing our lives?”

“Because I want this house to be our sanctuary away from all of that, Padfoot!” He shouted back; maybe it was the thick sense of fear looming over everything these days, maybe it was the fact that the full moon had just passed, or maybe it was because Remus could simply not understand why Sirius would be bringing this up now, now of all times.

“Hard to have it be your so-called ‘sanctuary’ when the spy could be among us.” Sirius stood straight from being propped against the counter. He didn’t truly believe that his lover was the spy, but Peter had mentioned something to him the other day, and he started to doubt. Sirius didn’t want to make it into an argument either, but he didn’t know how else to talk about it; how else could he ensure that the spy wasn’t either of the two?

The boy with his fluffy brown hair dropped the plate he was scrubbing in the sink and slowly turned around. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“You think one of us is the spy?”

“No–” Sirius started.

“You think I am the spy?” Remus’ brows furrowed and his face grew red, “You think I wanted to see Marlene die? You think I’m the one threatening the lives of Lily, James, and Harry? Threatening the lives of you?”

“You’re always off with Greyback anyway—off with the rest of your kind. Those wolves.”

“What about my kind? Your entire family is the whole of the bloody death eaters!”

"Oh, so it’s me? I’m the spy.”

“It would make sense, or is it just too fitting for an aggressive ravenous werewolf to be it?”

When Remus said this, he suddenly was back to being 15, his fifth year of Hogwarts. It was the week after their exams, their OWLs. It was the moment he swore to never forgive Sirius Orion Black ever again. Sirius had problems with getting ahead of himself, of getting caught up in the moment, getting so fired up and lit like a match to the point where he burned everyone around him and pleaded he would never do it again, and every single time Remus John Lupin let him back into his life.

“If the shoe fits Remus!” Sirius retaliated, and there he stood, burning all of the bridges of all of the people around him again.

“What exactly are you trying to get at right now? Huh? What is going through your maddened head?”

“Are you the spy?” Sirius shouted, his feet anchored to the ground as the room spun around him. He didn’t know what to believe anymore; every day was an endless cycle of the meetings with the order, the fighting, the spying. He was sick of the skeptical glances of all of his friends to each other, of Moody constantly in his ear warning him to not believe or trust anything, not James and not Remus.

“No! Of course I’m not.” He threw his arms up and watched as his lover quickly went to put a defensive hand on his wand. Remus stopped; his head gave a small quirk to the side as he observed the other man's body language.

Sirius was scared of him. He was going to grab his wand to defend himself; this man was mad with paranoia and believed his own boyfriend was a death eater. Remus scoffed; this was ridiculous.

“You think it’s me.” Remus towered over the man with black hair; he brought an innocent hand to his own wand. It was a test, a test to see how Sirius would react, a test to determine the fate of their relationship. If Sirius saw this act as a threat, then Remus knew it was time to leave; he didn’t want to stay with this man who thought he would aid the opposing side of the war. Sirius, as expected, stridently pulled out his wand and placed it at Remus’ scarred neck.

The werewolf clenched his jaw, swallowed, and took a step back.

“Fine,” he spoke hoarsely, “if that’s how you feel, then that's how it will be.”

Remus turned away from Sirius as he padded to what once was their room. He packed a suitcase of only the essentials to him (which consisted of the sweater he was currently wearing, the money he had been saving up, the remaining cigarettes in his pack, and the last amount of a chocolate bar he was saving.)

Sirius was still standing in the middle of the kitchen, wand extended out, right where Remus left him. Remus looked back at him only once before slamming the door and leaving. Some could say this behavior was erratic, that he was just leaving for no reason, but what other choice did he have? Sure, he could’ve tried to explain how he wasn’t the spy and how he had dedicated his whole life to the war—to the order—but it was pointless like beating a dead horse.

It wasn’t just Sirius who was paranoid; Remus was too, and so was James worried about the future of his son wanting the war to end, never wanting to see one of his friends lifeless bodies again; Lily trying to be a mother and a soldier while mourning the loss of her dear friends and struggling to find the light in the world that once seemed so easy to find; Mary losing her mind after the McKinnons passed, worried on how any of this fighting and any of this life could possibly be good ever again; and Peter. Peter may be even the worst of them all; he had been so distant recently, always keeping to himself, he would barely speak at the meetings and only sometimes would be seen at Godric Hallow for the occasional dinner party. James had tried talking to him and tried reasoning that none of them, none of the marauders, were the spy and that they were all best friends just like old times.

Remus didn’t really have anywhere to go, so he went to the woods. He went with the wolves, with ‘his kind.’

Sirius will see; he will see just how much of a wanker he was being; he wouldn't be able to survive a week without me. He’ll come for me. I’ll go to him.

The werewolf kept these thoughts spiraling through his head, anything to stop him from dwelling on the fact that maybe Sirius didn’t need him.

Many days and many nights had passed while Remus stayed with the pack. There were no phones in the woods, no daily prophet papers, no word from his friends, no word from the order—absolutely no contact to the outside world. He’d reckoned it had been at least a week since he left.

He missed Sirius so much; he missed what they had, but when he reflected on their fight, all he felt was rage and hatred in the pit of his chest. He missed his friends; Lily’s comforting meals and wise words; the way James always knew how to cheer someone up in the darkest of times; how cheeky and witty Mary was; Peter’s ability to always provide a new perspective; Marlene’s fiery passion for everything she fought for.

He hated this war, what it was doing to him and the people he loved most. Remus had to go back—back to Sirius, back to the order. He knew his anger often got the best of him and how he shouldn’t let it control him. He needed to apologize.

That night he would leave and return to their small flat. He walked to the nearest small town; he needed to come back to civilization.

When he walked onto the cobblestone roads that were decorated with soiled halloween decorations and candy wrappers, he stopped and grabbed a paper from a newspaper stand.

November 2nd, 1981.

He had been gone 17 days.

He missed Halloween—it was already the next month.

Remus sat the paper back down and pulled out his last cigarette. He took whatever money he had left to step into the bright red phone box and call the apartment.

He hoped Sirius would have answered, even if he only said ‘hello’ just to hang up once he realized who was on the other side of the phone. It would’ve been comforting to have heard the voice of the man he loved, even if that man thought he was a backstabbing traitorous spy. That was the funny thing about love: even when all of a sudden you swear you hate that person, the feeling doesn’t just disappear; it just slowly and painstakingly fades.

Beep.

“The line you are trying to reach is busy right now; please hang up and try again later.” The robotic woman spoke on the other end before the phone dropped to the sound of a dead line.

Buzzzzzz.

Remus hung up and sighed at the fact he couldn’t call home; how he didn’t hear the husky voice of the man with the black hair. His face contorted, lips pursed, while he wondered why the phone line was busy.

He walked down the town sidewalks, taking the occasional drag of his cigarette while counting his steps between every new slab of sidewalk, watching for an opening of a quiet alleyway to which he could apparate.

One, two, three, four.

When he made it to the end of the alleyway he took a final drag then dropped the cigarette on the ground; stomping it out. He pulled out his cypress wood wand and apparated to the living room of the apartment.

When he arrived the phone had just stopped ringing. Remus frowned.

The phone box said the line was busy? But that had to have been minutes ago.. Yet now its still ringing?

“Padfoot? Are you home?” He called out to the empty apartment while padding across the room to the landline, he picked up the phone hoping that it wasn’t too late.

Static.

He sighed, hanging it back up then went to get a glass of water from the tap. He peered down at the sink.

There weren’t any dishes apart from the ones Remus hadn’t finished scrubbing from that night. Remus’ brows furrowed. If Sirius was alone for 17 days then there were bound to be at least a few dishes more, and it wasn’t like Sirius to clean up after himself, that’s why Remus always did it.

The werewolf scratched his grown out stubble, then took a drink of water.

Maybe Sirius was on a mission with Moody. Or maybe he was at James and Lily’s.

RING. RING. RING.

Remus rushed back over to the phone. His heart pounded in his chest, he prayed it was Sirius. He swallowed, glass in hand, and picked up the receiver.

“Hello?” He asked.

“Remus?” The voice sounded urgent, yet also greatly relieved he picked up.

It was a feminine voice, one quite familiar.

Mary.

“Mary? Is everything all right?” His stomach sank when he realized it was his friend calling, his friend who was sounding so worried. It was true he was never that close with Mary MacDonald, but if it took something to make her call it had to be some sort of news, and in these times of war any news had potential to be good or bad, and most often that meant bad.

“Remus… something awful has happened.” Her voice broke.

Remus knew. He had a sense he already knew. It made sense in a way. The way the apartment was so untouched and preserved from the night of their fight.

The glass shattered on the floor, water splashing on the hardwood, yet his grip on the phone only tightened as Mary, through sobs, explained to him what had happened.

The werewolf wasn’t even listening anymore, he had slid down the wall curled to a ball on the floor, staring into space, in complete and total shock.

Sirius. What he had done.

He was the spy selling his friends out to Voldemort, and now James and Lily were dead.

Sirius had been sent away to Azkaban where he would rot in a cell, spending every day thinking about his heinous act of betrayal he had done.

This isn’t real. This could not be real. Sirius wouldn’t. He thought I was the spy nearly three weeks ago! It makes no sense. James was his friend! His best friend, Lily, oh Lily, she was gone. But what about Harry? Was he killed too? Was his godson slain at the hands of his godfather's wrongdoing? Or was he an orphan?

Remus let himself sob as he grappled with the fact his whole world was falling apart.

Remus spent the next 12 years alone in the apartment, only one load of laundry to do at the laundromat, one set of dishes to wash, one portion of food to make, everything for himself. He had never minded the isolation—the loneliness.

The first few weeks after it happened, Mary would call everyday, try and set up days for them to go out and get a cuppa. Then all of a sudden the phone calls stopped, and Remus heard she obliviated herself from all of this pain. He thought of doing the same, maybe it would be easier to forget this portion of his life ever existed, but the thought of losing the happy memories, no matter how tainted they were, clouded his thoughts.

Dumbledore sent him an owl every month, but Remus didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything anymore. Especially not the letters that pitied him.