marauderstower | Poly-Marauders Torture Hell

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Poly-Marauders Torture Hell

TIMELINE: 2 mo after Find Out Pregs. Relatively soon after getting Remus to return from being a TRASH HUSBAND. Bun In Oven about 3mo along.

Regulus finds out about the plan before he knows he's even supposed to be involved. He finds out when he overhears Bellatrix talking about it and his blood runs cold. He slips away quiet and hidden to send off a panicked owl with what information he can give without being incriminated.

S.

Do not go home tonight. B going there. Will be V. BAD. Safe elsewhere.

R.

Each emphasized word is underlined twice.

He barely gets it sent off and goes back among the others when Bellatrix slings an arm around his shoulder and asks him if he's excited to go on the mission. He forces a smile at her, but he feels like he's going to vomit. It's easy to get there though, easy to get to the flat with Bellatrix's...methods. They're left waiting for Sirius to return home and Regulus is only barely not shaking. Bellatrix is draped over an armchair like this is a social call, leg hanging over the arm of it. Regulus is standing nervously behind it and looking at the door every so often.

"You know he's not going to change his mind," said soft. They're not wearing their masks tonight.

There's a silence before Bellatrix's voice slithers out from her perch where he can't see her. Her knife smile is in his mind. "That's not the point, darling cousin."

(Regulus isn't religious, obviously, but what he does now is something very like praying.)

WARNINGS: torture, violence, Mean Things Being Said, Bellatrix Lestrange.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"He... what?"

There's a growing sense of unease in the pit of his stomach – a clenching, tightening feeling in his gut that makes him feel vaguely ill. He doesn't look over to where Regulus lays unconscious on the ground – can't look now – instead focusing all of his attention on Sirius.

"Sirius, are you sure?" He's as afraid to ask as his is to hear the answer – terribly afraid that he may have made a horrible, unforgivable mistake. "When we found you, you said... both of their names and–"

"Yeah."

It's as instant as he can manage, his eyes shutting briefly because it's too much to keep his eyes open, for a moment. There's an odd nausea forming in him that isn't because of the concussion, as he starts to process what Remus means-- what he must have assumed.

"She was... gonna kill me, Moony." His eyes open again as he starts to speak, fighting and failing to hold Remus' gaze, "Already had-- Crucioed me. Tried t'make Reg do it, too."

Words are hard. Thinking and speaking is already exhausting, but this feels crucial. This is clearly a wrong he needs to right.

"He couldn't. Wouldn't. It got... bad." A shadows passes over his face; the memory already a haunting hurt, "He... c'nvinced her to-- keep me alive. Made it hurt less after she-- left."

And now he can't help the guilt that creeps over his face; the way he tries to shift his head to find his brother's still form, "Was tryin'-- t'tell you."

But the words had obviously not come out right at all.

His heart throbs in his chest with every word that falls from Sirius' lips. The hand he didn't even realize was grasping Sirius' arm (the uninjured one, thankfully), tightens with every struggled phrase that hits his ears, and he doesn't want to believe what he's hearing. Not that he doesn't want to believe in Regulus' innocence; rather, he doesn't want to believe that he could have made such a grievous error. And still, he has to be sure. No chances – that's what he'd promised both himself and Sirius, even if the latter hadn't been conscious to hear it. They couldn't afford to be wrong about this.

His hand shakes worse than ever as he lifts Regulus' wand. The whispered "Prior Incantato" is barely audible, because the tightening in his stomach has moved to his chest and he feels like he can barely breathe.

A numbing spell. Intricate and complex. A spell that would have no other use outside of lessening someone's pain to an immense degree. And then...

A protection spell. A powerful one.

Regulus' wand clatters to the floor as the vice grip Remus has on Sirius' arm clamps down even harder. There are tiny silver spots dancing in front of his eyes because he can't breathe – he doesn't remember how – and he sways on his knees next to the bed, tears spilling silently over his cheeks as he turns wide eyes on Sirius in stunned disbelief.

"Sirius–" he gasps, still light-headed though he manages to draw in a lungfull of air even as his vision swims dangerously. "I think I've made... a terrible mistake..."

The guilt in his gut grows as Remus' hand tightens around his. It explodes almost completely was he watches the spells emerge from the tip of his brother's wand.

He inhales sharply at the sight of the protection spell; a small and sudden bit of clarity slipping into place. He'd wondered how the Cruciatus curse had stopped hurting as much-- hadn't had time to think of the possibility of Regulus protecting him. A loose, overwhelmed sob escapes his lips before Remus drops his brother's wand, turning to him with horror etched into his face and regret in his words.

It takes him a moment to formulate words, because he's trying to get his thoughts back together and trying not to tremble with his weeping. His hand squeezes back at Remus shakily; wearily.

"....Breathe," he finally manages, before his eyes shut tiredly. It's too much. He's still weak; barely able to hold the conversation now. Eventually, though, he gets the quiet words out; eyes still shut, "Wake-- up my brother, Remus."

Remus nods mutely, and still it's a moment before he can gather the courage to turn and face what he's done to the person he loves more than anyone in the world. Can he even claim that anymore? Could he have done this to someone he really loved? Would he have believed so wholeheartedly that Regulus was evil if Regulus really meant as much to him as Remus thought he did?

He doesn't know the answers. He feels numb, a gaping hole opening up and slowly growing inside of him, filling his chest where his heart should be as he climbs shakily to his feet, unsure for a moment if he'll even be able to stand.

But he does stand. And he picks up Regulus' wand. And he moves to Regulus as though through a dream, the sounds of Sirius' ragged breathing and his own short, quick gasps for air growing muffled until all he can hear is the rushing in his ears as he kneels down next to the pale-faced boy – because that's what he is, really. It's what they all are. Children, forced to grow up to fast, fated to make mistakes that nobody twice their age should have to bear.

Regulus look so small where he lays, his delicate features pale against the hard floor, and Remus can't help but to reach out, his quivering fingertips brushing sorrowfully over one high cheekbone. Probably the last time he'll ever touch that face.

"Renneverate," he whispers, letting his hand drop away so that he won't be touching Regulus when he wakes. He hasn't the right to touch him anymore – probably won't even be able to help him up off the ground – and he can't stem the flow of tears that he as of yet refuses to give any voice to.

It takes a moment for Regulus to come to properly. It's like waking through a fog, his body sore and aching but he barely notices that because his mind is scrambling to remember something, something important—and then he opens his eyes Remus' face swims into view and he remembers.

He remembers very suddenly and his first reaction isn't anger or that heartfelt begging to die. No, it's something instinctive, ingrained, and if Sirius is capable of looking he'll recognize exactly what it is. It's familiar when his breath catches sharply in his throat, eyes wide and wet and terrified. The way he moves too, a jerking scramble away from him (not back into the door but sideways) using his hands that causes him to nearly topple all over again.

It's the same way he'd reacted the first time their parents had hit him - betrayed by and fear of someone that's meant to love him, to protect him. His breathing is a little ragged still and he doesn't speak, just stares at him unseeingly. He doesn't even register that Remus is crying.

His gaze clears as it flicks down to the wand in Remus' hand and that kicked dog noise escapes his throat again. He can't help it. "Going to finish the job?" It's hoarse, and he can't even pretend it's something other than begging. For death or absolution, he's not sure which.

He feels but doesn't see Remus leave his side. He's too busy struggling to get his stomach to settle; get his mind to be something like steady again. When he hears Remus wake up Regulus, though, he has to open his eyes.

He regrets it almost instantly, because that reaction is one that hurts more than almost anything. That's got him trying to fight his way out of the bed once more, this time nearly falling off it before the charms protecting patients from doing exactly that have him forced back onto the bed again. There's a muffled oath of pain when he nearly tumbles out and another for when he's pushed back on.

His voice is a soft sob when he manages to speak, fighting for Regulus' attention.

"Dìdì... dìdì, 'm sorry," he says, "He knows you... helped, now. I didn't-- tell him well 'nough, when they... found me. He d-didn't know."

Nothing breaks inside of him at the sight of Regulus scrambling away in terror, because there's nothing left in him to break. He watches numbly, tears still flowing freely but heart so broken that he's simply beyond feeling anything at this point.

Behind him, Sirius is saying something – trying to excuse what he's done – but there is no excuse. He's proved himself the monster beyond the shadow of a doubt; it's there in Regulus' eyes and in the pain with which he moves. There's no forgiveness for monsters like him, and there's no going back.

"No," he hears himself say, and like every other sound in the room it sounds oddly muffled. Slowly, so as not to frighten Regulus any more than is strictly necessary, he sets the blackthorn wand on the ground, sliding it toward the cowering Slyherin. He lets go when the wand is just at the extent of his arm's reach, pulling back and closing his eyes.

"But you can, if you want. I won't stop you."

No going back.

Regulus lets out a low sob when Sirius speaks, dropping onto his side so that he can cover his face with his hands. He just lets it happen, breathing raggedly and almost hyperventilating all over again. "Don't," he whispers, "it's not your fault, gēge. I should have been better. I should have stopped her sooner. I shouldn't have let her hurt you. Besides, I'm the one of us a Death Eater, I deserve it—"

He quiets and sits up again when Remus speaks, when he moves — he eyes the elder warily, ready to scramble back again if need be. He doesn't need to though, and snatches up his wand so soon as it's close enough. He holds it in a white-knuckled grip and then—lets out a crazy little laugh at the absurdity of it all.

He feels nothing. "What the fuck," he manages to spit, "makes you think that I'd want to kill you?"

It's patently clear he doesn't mean Sirius, either.

"I can't even fake a Cruciatus on someone I love, much less kill them."

"No. No, dìdì, 's not-- your fault."

Another feeble struggle against the charms holding him in. The spells monitoring his vitals make a soft sound of concern as he gets more and more restless; nothing immediately life-threatening but honest enough given the state he's working himself up to. It's honestly a miracle he hasn't lost consciousness again.

And then Remus is saying those horrible words and he lets loose another sob.

"Please-- stop," he pleads with both of them, the room starting to spin again and his eyes shutting briefly to fight off the dizziness.

He'd thought he was beyond feeling any more pain, but each of Regulus' words hits him like a blow. He takes every one of them in turn, though, head bowed and shoulders hunched, hands balled into fists on the floor, because he deserves them. He's the reason that Regulus is at this point, and anything that happens from here on, he's entirely to blame.

He's crying a bit more noticeably now, the silent tears having turned to soft gasps verging on actual sobs and he knows he's about to lose it. It's the flashes of bright color from the spells over Sirius' bed that spur him into movement, and he pushes himself to his feet, reaching out blindly for the wall to steady himself.

"I should... go. Find a–" His throat feels thick, and he can barely get the words out as he stumbles toward the door. "–Healer." He's very nearly through it when he pauses, head still hung so that his hair falls over his eyes and unable to look at Sirius or Regulus. His last words come as a barely audible whisper before he bolts from the room:

"I'm sorry, Reg."

Regulus just sits there for a very long time, silent and bitter and watching Remus blankly because he doesn't know what to do. The worst part is he can't blame Remus for being so ready to believe he could do it, hurt as he is by it. Sirius isn't the one fallen from grace. Regulus is.

He still doesn't say anything as Remus leaves. He wonders if he'll even come back. Finally he stands slowly, mechanically, tucking his wand away in his robes. He moves over to Sirius then, looking at him with a mix of guilt and pain before he reaches out tentatively to stroke over his brother's hair. He feels hollow.

"Calm down, gēge. Everything is okay. It was just a misunderstanding, things will be all right. I'll be all right too." He's only barely able to make sure his hand doesn't tremble. "I love you, okay? I'm sorry I couldn't help more but I'm glad I could at least stop her from killing you."

A breath. All his words feel like ash in his mouth. "I know better, now. Better than to let people hurt those I love."

"Remus--"

He starts to say something, but he doesn't even get the name of his friend out before the other man's gone. It's got another loose sob escaping his lips; has him reaching for Regulus before his brother even starts to move. Once Regulus has brushed lightly at his hair, he lets his unhurt hand reach up, trying to grasp at the young man's hand.

"I-- love you," he says, earnest despite the way he's struggling to keep his gaze focused on Regulus. He's very obviously getting woozy again, "So much, dìdì. Thanks for-- looking out f'r me."

His eyes slip shut again, stay closed for a moment, before he manages.

"Y'did-- good, Reggie."

Remus still has the presence of mind to locate a Healer once he's left, wiping his eyes before motioning the green-clad witch down the hall towards Sirius' room. After that, he moves blindly, staggering away past rows of empty chairs until he spies a door opening onto a darkened room.

He breaks down again the moment he enters the empty hospital room, collapsing into a chair where he allows the events of the past twenty-four hours to hit him full force, shoulders shaking with the intensity of his sobs.

He'd ducked away not because he wanted to be alone, but because he didn't want Sirius or Regulus to see him in their path should either of them have cause to come this way. He's done enough for one lifetime – to the both of them – and the best thing (the only thing) that he can do for either of them now is to stay out of their way and let them get on with their lives.

Regulus holds onto Sirius' hand like it's a lifeline, his other moving to smooth over Sirius' hair again before kissing his forehead. "I'm going to take care of everything, okay? It'll be all right."

It's not exactly a lie so it falls easily from his mouth. When the Healer returns without Remus he grimaces slightly, unsure if he's annoyed or even more hurt. It's stupid. He refuses to step away from his brother so she has to work around him, keeping a slight distance because he exudes an aura of don't touch me so strong it's almost palpable.

His thumb rubs at the back of Sirius' hand the entire time, waiting for her to clear him. She's glad he managed to wake up, in any case.

Soon enough he'll stalk off to find Remus. Until then, he'll be right here.

"'s long as-- y're careful," he mumbles, fumblingly managing to squeeze his brother's hand again. He may be concussed and on his way out of consciousness again, but he does still know his brother-- even if he's not quite catching on to the intricacies of exactly how distressed Regulus is.

He's still fighting to stay awake when the Healer finally comes in, and there's a flicker in his expression when he notes her lack of accompaniment. She fusses over him, frowning over what the diagnostic charms are telling her and maneuver her way around the stubbornly still Regulus.

Soon enough she's got him downing a painkilling potion so that she can lift the numbing spell off of him. She's checking in to see how badly his head injury is making him feel. She's explaining that head injuries are delicate things and they try to avoid doing too much spellwork for fear of getting something wrong.

"We can take the edge off the symptoms, perhaps," she tells him, "But fully making them go away-- It's too risky. We already weren't entirely certain you'd regain proper consciousness and we don't want to cause that to be a threat again."

It makes sense, really. It's still got Sirius grumbling a little; irritated at having to stay in bed a little longer when he's clearly needed by his best friend and brother at least, if not the rest of the war.

"The more you rest now, the faster we'll be able to release you," the Healer chides back in response, "Really, counterintuitive though it may be, you ought to sleep more. The fact you managed to be awake for-- more than a minute is a good sign that you're out of the woods when it comes to going completely comatose. And you really musn't try to get out of bed just yet. The spell says you were clearly in a lot of distress while trying."

That earns a bitter snort out of Sirius as he hums his agreement. Satisfied that he's at least heard the words if not quite planned on listening to them, the Healer makes a few notes before bidding them both farewell.

Sirius slumps a little more back into the pillow, when she goes, the exhaustion he was trying to hide clearly visible now, as his concern for his brother. This time when Sirius squeezes his hand, it's a lot weaker. The flutter of his eyelids indicates he really ought to be heading back into sleep.

"...He d-didn't know," he murmurs again, softer now, "'nd everyone's on edge nowadays. Please don't-- hate each other 'cause of me. Or... blame y'rselves."

"Always careful, you know me. Quick and quiet and careful." Another lie falling smoothly from his mouth. He wonders how much his sins have compounded.

Regulus listens carefully to everything the Healer has to say, taking it in and cataloging it for later. It's good to know, and once she leaves Regulus turns his attention fully back to his brother, nodding and holding onto his hand. "I know," he lies, "I know now that we've just made mistakes. I'll go talk to him, things will be all right." He's repeating himself purposefully to sink the thought into Sirius' mind, to ease him.

"I love you," he murmurs, and waits for him to drop off to sleep. It's only then that he moves, pressing the back of Sirius' hand to his own forehead. These affections they learned themselves, bucking tradition and their parents. It's all right. They've had each other, at least. "I'm not like them," he whispers when he's sure Sirius won't wake, "I'm not."

Telling himself so he can be sure. Finally he lets go, making sure his brother is settled in and comfortable before he leaves the room. It takes him ages to find Remus, stalking from room to room and up and down the hall, searching for any sign of him. He's good at this though, well-practiced. Finally he's at the room Remus is in, opening the door and stepping inside before closing it behind him, standing there to block the way out.

"Remus." He hates himself and is afraid of Remus even now, but he has to do this. Can't let it go on like this. His voice is firm but not cold, somehow.

The worst of his uncontrollable sobs have subsided by the time Regulus finds him, still hunched over on the chair, his hair a wreck from pulling at it during his breakdown and his face pale and blotchy. He hastily wipes his eyes when Regulus enters the room, sucking in a shuddering breath and trying to collect himself as best he can. He had hoped perhaps that they would just forget about him or leave him to his shame and misery, but apparently luck is not on his side tonight.

It's with great effort that Remus forces himself to look up, and the gaze that he turns on Regulus is despondent. Broken. Like a shell that the real Remus had left behind long ago.

"How is he?" His voice is flat when he speaks, and he nearly winces at the sound of it. There's another question there, too, but he doesn't dare ask it, simply staring at Regulus – staring through him, more like – dead eyed and braced for whatever punishment comes his way.

In contrast to Remus' state, Regulus is resolute now. He's compartmentalized so much that he doesn't know if he even remembers how to have an emotion. It's only been a matter of parts of an hour. Less than half of one, he imagines. It's all right. He can do this. Maybe. He looks at Remus and something flickers across his expression - it's not compassion but it's some kind of quiet thing he's not quite sure how to deal with.

"Resting," he allows, quiet. "He's going to be all right." He moves closer in a way that's reminiscent of approaching a cornered animal and stops in front of him. He still feels hollow. "Straighten up," isn't a request. He can't stand to see Remus looking so pathetic even now. "Don't act like this." Somehow, it's not unkind.

He breathes in and out slow and it's shaking, belying his attempt at looking stronger than he feels. "I need you to do something for me." He wants things to go back to the way they were before. Before things had gone wrong. "A couple of things, in fact." His hand moves and it's not threatening, but his arm falls back to his side before he can touch Remus. It's too raw.

Seeing Regulus like this is... disconcerting.

He knows that what he's seeing now is the the pureblood Slytherin as Regulus had described – the heir who was raised to exude an impeccable image and cater to the expectations of his station. It's there in the artful choice of what he shows and what he tries to conceal, in the very air that manifests around him and in the attitude that he affects with such precision.

Remus can see the spots where Regulus has frayed around the edges, however; he can see where the actual emotion is bleeding through, belying his calm and commanding exterior. He can see where the pureblood prince ends and where Regulus Black begins, and it's devastating to witness how resolutely Regulus is trying to keep the cracks from showing.

He's trying to be strong for the both of them.

And it makes Remus feel even worse.

He doesn't know what he can do (nothing, there's nothing he can do), but as Regulus approaches, he does make an attempt to sit up a little straighter. His breath catches in his throat when it looks like Regulus is about to touch him, his eyes betraying the tiny flicker of hope that the gesture lights within him before its so quickly snuffed out again by Regulus' retreat. He'd known it would be impossible for them to go back to the way they were, but to have that fact so blatantly paraded in front of him still hurts like nothing he's ever experienced.

"What can I do?" he asks, and there are so many levels of desperation packed into that question that it's almost laughable. Of course there's nothing he can do, not really. No way to salvage the trust that he's broken or the relationship that he's thrown to the dogs. Still, if Regulus is here – if he's come to him and is asking for help – then Remus can't refuse him. It's more than he would have expected, after all. More than he could have ever asked for.

"First, I need you to take care of Sirius. He doesn't know everything that happened and he doesn't need to; what he needs is a united front. You know how he is." Emotional, reckless. Regulus has never actually seen Remus like this and it breaks his heart almost more than the way Remus had treated him does. Almost. He can't allow himself the luxury of feeling right now, even if the truth is showing through in desperate cracks like the hurt that flashes in his eyes. Now he wants to run, to just leave and lick his wounds alone. Maybe take care of these emotions forever. He doesn't dwell on that thought, pushes it aside because he can't afford that either.

"As for the rest... I have something I need to do and I need you to take a message to Dumbledore about it." He knows already what his mission is going to end in: solving many of their problems in one fell swoop. It has to be enough. He manages a smile, though it's clearly fake. "My elf Kreacher will be delivering something to him but I don't know if he'll be able to articulate what's needed when the time comes." The heaviness of what he's doing feels suffocating. "I... Won't be able to give him the message myself. I need you to go to him personally. Tell him in person, do not tell another soul. No one. Not even Sirius."

It's a startling show of trust after everything that's happened, and another breath shakes as he exhales it. "Just... Tell Dumbledore it's a horcrux. He has a horcrux. He'll know what it means." The emphasized he isn't referring to Dumbledore. "I... It's important that he knows. There's no..." Finally it's like his facade is breaking, crumbling under the weight of it. "There's no way to kill him. He can't die, Remus. He can't die until it's gone."

When he speaks again it's bitter. "I'm the only one that's realized. If I wasn't there no one would know and people would keep throwing themselves away."

It's a lot to take in, and Remus needs several moments to process all of the information that he's just been given. The magnitude of what Regulus has just told him – both the secret itself and the fact that Regulus has come to him with it – leaves him feeling floored. This information could be the break they need, could turn the tide of the entire war, if they act wisely. And if they act fast. The fact that the information is coming from one of Voldemort's inner circle carries its own heavy implications, the first and foremost being that Regulus has just made himself a traitor to the Dark Lord and defected to their side.

Which means that Regulus can clear his name with this horcrux lead, and never have to be regarded with suspicion again. He can be one of them.

The way that Regulus is talking alarms him though, several red flags popping up in his mind all at once. Brows drawing together, Remus finds himself moving to stand, but thinks better of it and remains where he is, leaning forward with a look of trepidation in his eyes.

"Why can't you give him the message yourself? Why come to me instead of going straight to Dumbledore? Surely he's the one best equipped to help figure out what to do from here." Remus can see how the weight of the burden is wearing on Regulus, and it's all he can do not to close the few feet between them and take him in is arms, to offer his comfort and support. Like he always would have done. Before. "If you're the only one who's realized, then surely you should go to the Order. Let them protect you. Let us help you."

This time Regulus breathes out a laugh, incredulous and fake. He shakes his head, hand moving up to rub at the back of his neck. He knew he'd come across this type of opposition, but it doesn't make it any easier to deal with. He wants to stop feeling hollow and lonely, to not feel like he's crackling at the edges and splitting at the seams. Remus' questions hurt but he can't let things go any other way.

He's not in it to clear his name, either. Becoming one of them is the furthest thing from his mind now, especially considering how well an attempt to do the right thing has been reacted to already. He smiles and it's a grimace.

"There are obstacles that only I know how to get past. That only I can get past. I—" his voice wavers finally and he swallows, trying to ignore it and press on. "I don't need to drag anyone else into it. If I can do this on my own then it solves a lot of problems. Anyone that tries to help like that just puts themselves in unnecessary danger. I'm sure I've put you in danger too with just this, and for that I apologize."

There's a keen edge to his smile now, but it's not meant to cut Remus. "Besides, it's for the best. None of them actually want me in the Order, you know that."

"I do." His voice cracks when he says it, a plea that verges on frantic. He sucks in a ragged breath and tuns his face away, covering his mouth, but it's too late: he's begun to cry again, and there's nothing he can do to stop it.

"I want you in the Order." He drops his hands and looks at Regulus again, ignoring the tears as they fall traitorously down his cheeks, eyes begging Regulus for all of the things that he can't give voice to. He knows that he has no right to even say such a thing now, after what he's done, but it's the truth. Whether he's there or not (and he has no plans to continue on with the Order now), Remus wants Regulus there, because it's where he honestly believes that Regulus belongs. Doing good.

"You can't stand there and say we're not already in danger, every one of us. We're choosing to put our lives on the line, so it only makes sense to let the Order help. To go off on your own is foolish. It's too dangerous, Reg."

It's too much. It hurts to see him like this and he can't compartmentalize it fast enough, turning away briefly so that he can sort his thoughts. "We can't always get what we want, Remus." It's soft, and he hasn't turned back yet. Finally he does, taking a ragged breath. His eyes are blank.

"It's different, what I'm doing. You have to understand that. Only one person can go. One. And there's no coming back. Should I send someone else? Absolve myself by killing someone because I'm afraid? I can't do that. There are safeguards. I know how to pass them. It's practical and needs to be done. The Order has to get the horcrux just like the Order needs you."

That last is preempting any thought Remus might have of trying to take on the burden himself. He's not going to let him.

When he reaches out it's to wipe the tears off of Remus' cheeks, touch gentle. His hand is trembling as he does it. He really is afraid - and now he's told Remus he intends to die. It's a mistake, he's sure of it. "Don't cry. War is hell."

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