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.

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He's actually unconscious, at first, when Remus finally finds him. He's a mess-- one broken arm, both legs all but shattered, broken ribs, and a concussion that keeps him mostly incoherent even when he does regain consciousness. He's hurting enough that he's crying as soon as he's awake enough to register the pain, barely able to gasp out the words, "Bellatrix," and "Regulus" at Remus. He knows whatever else he mumbles-- his attempts at explaining that his brother still cares; why Sirius was chosen; Bellatrix's cruelty-- is lost in the pain in his voice and the quiet sobs and the way his thoughts are scattering like butterflies. He can't keep his focus. Every time he blinks, it's like something else has changed. Remus looking frantic, Remus looking furious, a Healer with him now--

He blacks out again shortly just before they get him to St. Mungo's. Keeps drifting fitfully in and out of consciousness, though he stays asleep likely more than he realizes.

At least, now he's in the hospital, things don't hurt anymore.

If rage could trigger his transformations, Remus might never have been fully human again. He'd seen red when they found Sirius, bound and broken by his family who should have cared for him and protected him. Worse, by his brother – his brother whom they'd trusted, whom Remus had loved – who had somehow weaseled is way into their hearts only to betray them the very moment they'd been foolish enough to let their guards down.

Never again.

Had he been able to transform without the power of the full moon, he'd have changed in a heartbeat; he'd have sniffed out both of the vile Death Eaters and shown them the true meaning of blood lust.

As it were, Remus simply made a vow: he vowed never again to be deceived; never again to let his emotions cloud his better judgement; never again to let someone in so far that they could ruin him like this – break his heart and hurt his friends (his fault). Above all else, he vowed never again to leave Sirius vulnerable. He'd let his friend down, and that was as despicable as if he'd cast the spells himself.

And so he stood guard in the private room in St. Mungo's, stalking back and forth like a caged animal between Sirius' bed and the door. He itched to take action, but refused to so much as take a seat until Sirius was out of danger.

If Remus had been able to do so, Regulus probably would have let him.

Regulus expects someone to be in the room with Sirius, but somehow he hadn't expected it to be Remus. Remus who is facing away from him on a course back toward the bed, who Regulus can recognize just from the shape of his shoulders. He feels sharp and broken and bitter - the little resolve he'd managed to pull together drains out of him like so much water and he stills as soon as he's inside the room, breathing out ragged and weak.

"Sirius," he croaks out, but he chokes on the word as it leaves his throat because he can see his brother there on the bed, looking small and it's his fault. Then: "Remus." It's hoarse.

He hasn't moved for his wand. He probably should have.

Who better to stand guard than Remus? Considering it was his fault that Sirius had ended up here in the first place. None of this would have happened if he hadn't been so weak, charmed like the schoolboy he was by an intriguingly uncommon smile and a sob story that only a true fool could have believed. It was enough to make him crave the mindless abandon of transformation; at least then he wouldn't have to live with what he'd done to his best friend.

The sound of his name makes him whirl about, wand at the ready, keeping the bulk of his frame between Sirius and the intruder. "You," he hisses in a voice that's barely recognizable as his own, eyes wide and wild with a dangerous sort of light. His wand hand twitches, but he doesn't attack; the quarters are too close here and if Regulus retaliates, a stray spell could hit Sirius. No, when he attacks - and he will attack – he'll have one chance and one chance alone. He'll have to make sure it counts.

He'll have to make sure his hand isn't shaking.

"You have the nerve to show up here? After what you've done?"

He deserves this. He knows he does, the ire and pure fury thrown his way. He's let this happen to Sirius, let him be hurt. Let Bellatrix hurt him, made things worse by being unable to keep up the act. Still, Remus' reaction makes his heart drop into his stomach and his eyes widen - he takes an instinctive step back at the look in Remus' eyes, unfamiliar and terrifying. He's never been frightened of him before this moment, but now he feels like he's looking at a stranger. A stranger that wants to kill him.

(A cruel part of his mind whispers you should let him but he holds the guilt of killing on his conscience. Remus is a better person than he is and he wouldn't wish that guilt on him for anything.)

"I—" Remus has his wand out, could easily strike out but doesn't. Regulus knows better than to let it blossom into hope. No, he knows the impracticality of close-quarters. He's just waiting. Somehow, that hurts the most. "I'm sorry," he croaks out, "I tried to stop her but she wouldn't, I did everything I could but she kept going, she wouldn't listen, it was all I could do to keep her from killing him—" he has both hands raised slightly as he speaks, disarming and empty, flattened out protectively.

"Remus, please. I came to see him, to apologize for not being able to help him." There's something like a sob thick in his throat. "Please."

"DON'T LIE TO ME," Remus roars, squaring his stance and drawing back his wand into an offensive position. He's got the slender piece of cyprus in a vice grip, but his hand at least has stopped shaking as the unyielding force of his rage overwhelms him, fueled even hotter by the look on Regulus' face. Regulus, who's so practiced and adept at controlling his micro-expressions that he can fool even the Dark Lord himself into thinking he's one of his most loyal followers; or, as has been made so excruciatingly clear to Remus, to trick the good into trusting him with false pretenses of hurt and pathetic displays of alleged inner turmoil.

If he were in his right mind, Remus might have realized that it was the degree to which Regulus' betrayal had hurt him (like a serrated blade plunged straight through his heart) that was causing him to lose himself so completely. He can't bear the pain of knowing how wrong he'd been, nor does he have the capacity to fully process the complete mess he's made by letting one of the Dark Lord's servants into his heart at the cost of someone he loves so dearly. He's paying a price of a magnitude that he can't fully comprehend yet, and the sheer immensity of his guilt and remorse is simply too much. And so he's retreated into the safety of that ferocious anger, so much akin to what he experiences when he transforms in the sense that he hardly knows what he's saying anymore, but merely aims to hurt, and will only come back to himself in time to witness the damage he's left in his wake:

"You may have exposed me for the fool that I am but no more. I know it was you - you and that lunatic, Lestrange - Sirius said so himself, so don't you dare think you can show yourself here and try to claim anything otherwise." His eyes blaze as the words spill forth, unchecked and raw with emotion. "You had me so blinded, didn't you, you snake? Wrapped around your slippery little finger. I fell for every one of your sorry tales of threats and manipulation when it was never something done to you, but taught to you, wasn't it?"

He draws a ragged breath, eyes narrowing, his wand hand never wavering and his gaze never breaking from where it holds Regulus'. When he continues, his words are low and dangerous, tight with the vengeance that he has ready to unleash at a moment's notice. "It took what you did to Sirius to open my eyes, but I see you now, Regulus Black, for who you really are–"

Savagely, he spits onto the floor at Regulus' feet. "You're just like your parents."

Edited 2016-11-01 08:18 (UTC)

Something in him shrivels up and dies right then and there. As soon as those first words leave Remus' mouth he realizes just what's happening - he's not angry with Regulus for what he'd thought was the case — a failure on his part. Remus believes he participated, that he did it on purpose. Sirius has told Remus this, even though Regulus had tried his best to help him. A low sob chokes and dies in his throat and he realizes in that moment that for the first time in his life, he really is well and truly alone. For the first time, he's truly frightened of both the man he loves and his own brother.

Abandoned by Sirius, hated by Remus. There's nothing left for him. He almost wants to try to goad Remus on into killing him just to put himself out of his misery but he can't bring himself to do it despite everything. "That's what... That's what Sirius said? That I did it?" He feels cold and empty as he slumps against the door, looking at Remus hollowly as he continues to berate him—

—the way Remus spits and the last words he says have the biggest effect on him of any of it. His face contorts painfully as he jerks back a little further to press himself against the door and lets out a noise akin to a dog that's been kicked, high-pitched and agonized. It's another thing he has in common with Sirius, like their laughs. The sob rips out of his throat this time and he covers his face with his hands, entire body trembling. He thinks it would hurt less if Remus had just stabbed him in the heart. He knows he's completely vulnerable like this but he doesn't care. Remus is probably going to think he's still faking it and Sirius planted that seed so what does it matter? He's still crying. He feels like he's going to hyperventilate.

"Don't say that," he whispers, "please, anything but that—" that whimper again, utterly broken. He's waiting for Remus to definitely kill him. "I never lied to you," his words all feel like dust in his mouth. "I would never, please, Remus I love you, how can you say that after everything they did to Sirius and me, I showed you what they did, I trusted you with those secrets—"

(So, about that hyperventilating. He can't breathe. He wants to die, it will be better than this, better than knowing that Remus thinks this of him.)

For the barest moment, Remus' resolve wavers. There's something about the look on Regulus' face, the broken sound that he makes and the defeated angle of his narrow shoulders that almost makes Remus want to believe... Because who could fake that tone? Who could so seamlessly create an image of someone so... someone so...

Shaking again, his hand tightens on his wand and he takes a step forward, banishing the seeds of doubt that he knows better now than to entertain. Regulus had described to Remus himself the ways in which he spun his lies – had explained the art of deceit and subterfuge that made him so perfect for the role of the spy while granting him the greatest chance at safety so long as he stayed put.

Right where the Dark Lord had the most use for him.

"Stop it..." It's all he can do to get the words out, because the things Regulus is saying are confusing him, tearing at his heart even though he knows that his automatic reaction is so very, very wrong. He can't want to comfort this creature – can't still love someone who used him so heartlessly and left his own brother for dead.

And that helps, thinking of Sirius, who's lying behind him on the brink of death, possibly never to wake up again. "I said stop it! I don't want to hear it!" (He can't hear it.) "You left him for dead! He may never wake up again and the last thing he may ever say to anyone is that you did this to him!"

Ah. Well, there's no turning back now. It really is his fault, after all. He flinches away from Remus when he takes a step forward, a violent and desperate shift of his body. Just like he'd used to. It's just this time it really is Remus he's trying to get away from. "I tried to send him an owl. I tried to warn him. I told it to go to you if it couldn't find him but I don't know what happened to it. It never came back." His voice is shaking slightly, and he knows Remus just told him to stop but he can't help it. He just needs to get it all out. "It is my fault though, for not being able to stop her. You're right there. She wanted me to hurt him but I couldn't. So she tried to Imperius him to hurt me instead but he... He broke out of it. And that's when she got more angry. That's when it got worse, and it's my fault because she noticed the Cruciatus wasn't hurting him as much as it was supposed to—"

"I just wanted to help," he keens quietly, broken.

He's babbling but he knows by now that Remus isn't going to believe him. And he realizes something suddenly. It hits him so hard in the chest that he lets out a laugh, sharp and hoarse and wild. "Shit."

He slides down the door then, head tipped back against it so that he can look up at Remus from the floor. He pulls out his wand but simply tosses it across the room, wondering if Remus will just murder him for the movement. He's still laughing for a long moment as he drags a hand down his face. "Despite everything you told me, you chose him in the end. I'm glad for it though, he deserves you more. You deserve better than a monster like me."

His grin is bright when his hand drops, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "So kill me, Remus. Kill me and put me out of my bloody misery because it's my fault Sirius is like this. I'm unarmed, it won't be difficult." Then he breathes sharply out through his nose. "Don't use the killing curse, though. You never come back from that. I'd know." A beat, trying to rein in his crazy laughter in the face of being so heartbroken he doesn't think he can survive anyway. "I want you to be able to sleep at night after this."

"Expelliarmus!" The spells is past his lips the moment Regulus goes for his wand, but the slighter boy had always been fast on the draw; Remus' spell hits just as Regulus had made to toss the wand aside, doubling the momentum with a loud BANG! and causing Regulus' wand to go flying across the room.

"Accio wand!" is out of his mouth before the wand even hits the floor, the brittle blackthorn flying into his outstretched hand. He's panting then, reeling from the rush of adrenaline and the sight of Regulus on the floor before him. He hears the words that Regulus is saying, but it's as though they don't quite compute, or his brain can't work fast enough to catch up with their meaning.

He raises his wand again, but hesitates. The powerful blood lust from before has subsided, replaced by a growing sense of disorientation. Regulus' words hold an unexpected note of desperation, but on the other hand, Sirius had expressly named his attackers before going into a coma. Still...

His hand shakes, indecision halting his actions as he stares down at the once noble and haughty Regulus Black.

The shouting has had him vaguely stirring out of the darkness of unconsciousness. He's properly out of the thick of it when the bang rings out through the room, and the sight that greets him is one that's utterly confusing. It doesn't make sense, after all, for Remus to be standing there with two wands in hand and a fire in him visible even from this hospital bed. It doesn't make sense for Regulus to be crumpled on the floor, begging for the other wizard to kill him.

Thinking is still a bit of a scattered thing. Turning thoughts into words takes effort. Still, he does his best to turn the concern him into words to address the person that has always been his priority.

"...Reggie--?"

Regulus sees the hesitation in Remus and he knows he's missing his chance to end things. To get it over with, to make things better for everyone—

—he grimaces, shifting where he sits to glare up at Remus, doing his best to look angry instead of hurt. He fails miserably. His voice is sharper anyway, outright bitter. He's the evil one, after all. "Do it. Kill me, get it over with. You're better off this way, don't make me say it again."

Then Sirius' voice filters toward them and it's his name and he has to do his best not to let out a low sob. He's awake. He's calling his name. Maybe he really will be okay. Sirius sounds confused though and he can use it to his advantage. Even if his brother did tell Remus he'd hurt him, he still doesn't want him to have to watch Regulus try to goad Remus into killing him. "Gēge."

It's soft and thick in his throat, like something syrupy or poisonous. "Go ahead and rest some more, gēge. Everything's fine here. Get some more sleep, yeah? It's been a rough few days, I want you to feel better."

His resolve is crumbling now, disintegrating into a thousand tiny pieces and slipping through his fingers like sand. The myriad faces that Regulus has shown since entering the room have thrown Remus off kilter despite his better efforts to remain focused, and he finds that confusion and uncertainty are quickly moving in to take up residence where he'd been so certain of what he had to do before.

The goading words disturb him because for some reason he hadn't expected that particular tactic (tactic? or defense mechanism?), though it does leave him sure of one thing, at the very least. He realizes with a start – and no small amount of relief – that he was never actually going to kill Regulus (could never kill Regulus), but the realization alone doesn't change anything that he's seen or heard since the attack. Sirius is hurt and they are at war and he cannot let his emotions blind him (~~though isn't that exactly what he has been doing?~~).

Then there's a weak query from behind him and Remus nearly forgets himself, halting his turn toward Sirius only because Regulus is speaking in that voice that's barely his own and it terrifies Remus.

"Stop..! Stop, what are you telling him?"

They hadn't known what to expect when Sirius awoke (if he awoke), but the chance that he'd been Imperiused was always there. And now with that dark and honey-smooth tone Regulus sounds for the world like he's issuing a command, not a reassurance, and Sirius could still be in danger and Remus doesn't want to believe the worst anymore but he can't take any chances because Sirius is hurt and they are at war and he acts without thinking:

"Stupefy!"

He hadn't even realized his voice sounds snakelike - but when Remus yells he startles mid-word, staring up at him with wide eyes and genuine surprise and alarm.

He wants out. His chest is tight and he's miserable and Remus hates him and is rounding on him and there's a split second when he thinks Remus really is going to kill him and it terrifies him, honestly terrifies him, he realizes he can't deal with the thought of it—

But it's Stupefy and in that moment Regulus realizes where he truly stands in Remus' heart. He doesn't resist or even try to dodge it. Besides, the brief respite of black oblivion is better than this. When the spell hits he crumples bonelessly, sliding sideways down to rest wholly on the floor instead of half on the door.

(For now, there's nothing.)

Edited (casually improves situation slightly) 2016-11-01 20:49 (UTC)

It's a lot to follow at once. He's still trying to process the initial situation, his mind sluggish from the fogginess of sleep and the lingering head injury. But then everything else happens, and it's too much, too fast. He doesn't know if he's even blinked more than once before things escalate.

And then Regulus is unconscious on the floor because of Remus, and there's a startled sound rather like a yelp escaping from Sirius. He forgets himself, in the moment, trying to struggle out of the hospital bed and finding himself inhibited by the sheets and his own clumsy, healing limbs. Somehow, he manages to get words out, too, though they're still fairly slurred.

"Moony, what-- the fuck?"

You would have thought he'd stunned himself, the way he freezes when Regulus hits the floor. He'd done that – him – and even the soft rustle that's the only accompanying sound to Regulus' landing seems to echo deafeningly in his ears.

He feels unsteady on his feet, like he might pass out himself until Sirius' voice brings him crashing back to reality once more. Remus whirls around, practically dropping his wand and Regulus' in his haste to get to Sirius' side. He's dropping to his knees and placing a firm hand on Sirius' shoulder to urge him to lay back, babbling almost incoherently with sheer relief:

"Sirius! Sirius... careful, don't push yourself. You've been hurt – badly. Just lie back, please. How's your head? No, stupid question, forget it just– Merlin, Sirius."

It's hard to make his eyes focus properly when Remus' face swims into view, but at least he hasn't passed out again. He lets himself be guided back down because now that he's conscious and trying to move there's a glimmer of pain at the edges of his senses, and he'd rather avoid that. Plus, now that the other man is close, he doesn't need to get up, necessarily. His uninjured had lifts to grip at Remus' arm, tight as he can manage it.

"Why-- th'hell did you--" There's a wave of nausea that interrupts his train of though; his breath coming in sharp for a moment, "--Stun Reg?"

He's already reaching for the pitcher of water next to Sirius' bed, gaze flitting worriedly toward the diagnostic charms that monitor Sirius' vitals. Not that any of the rotating colors make much sense to him, but Sirius seems stable, and that's what matters right now.

"Here, drink this," he says, pressing the glass of water into Sirius' hand. "Can you remember what happened? Bellatrix and–" He can hardly say it aloud despite everything he's just done, but he gulps a breath of air and forces himself to continue. "–and Reglulus. They attacked you. You've got a severe concussion. Broken arm, legs, ribs... For a while we weren't... weren't sure if..."

But he can't finish the statement, still too shocked and horrified by everything that's happened to think about what might have happened.

He takes the water glass but doesn't drink it, distracted by Remus' words. The shake of his head is slow; careful.

"'s not..." He needs a moment to marshal his thoughts; takes a careful sip of his water before Remus can interrupt him to make him, "Was... Bella. Reg tried t'-- save me."

"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.

:>

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