CHAPTER FIFTEEN
nocturnal me

                           𖦹 ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ˚⋆˚ 𖦹

  "HOW ARE YOU FEELING?"

Cove glances up at Remus from the horoscope she's skim reading, moving to dog ear the page of her magazine and face him properly. Dewy light invited in by the chilly noon moves to flutter over his face, the gauze that mummifies him crisp yet dappled with the odd speckle of scarlet. His skin is pale and smeared with imperfections from a strenuous night out in the forest, though some colour is beginning to return to his cheeks after getting in a solid few hours of sleep.

It was the first thing he'd really said to her all day, his voice croaky and strained from the incessant howling. She can tell that he's bothered by what she did, his stare boring holes into the duvet across his legs as a trillion unspoken words whir past in his head.

"Och, none of that," Cove mutters, leaning over to fuss with his covers and adjust his pillows. "I should be the one asking how you're doing."

He swats her hand away, stifling a wince at the way it makes his stitches burn. He fiddles with his fingers anxiously, only for Pip to knock her head against the back of his split knuckle until he scratches behind her tufty auburn ear. He holds Pip a little more securely to his chest, his breaths falling in time with her deep purring. It's like he's afraid to stay still, constantly finding something new to fumble with to keep his bandaged hands in motion.

"You already know my answer," Remus replies, moving to twist the fraying hem of his pyjama top. "I've—"

"—been better," she finishes in unison with him. She rolls her eyes playfully. "I know, I know."

Cove had come to visit him during her free period after breakfast, swanning around the Hospital Wing frantically to try and make him feel more comfortable despite her own injuries, no matter how he tried to shut down all her efforts. She also managed to sneak him a cauldron cake or two under Pomfrey's nose, but that's neither here nor there.

She can tell that he's been worrying about her just as much, if not more, for a multitude of different reasons. He was already stressed about her being near him during the full moon, let alone being chased by him, but his worries were only doubled at the state she'd found herself in that morning.

He'd been retold it all, courtesy of Peter. At the crack of dawn, Madam Pomfrey had to bear witness to three teenagers stumbling into the Hospital Wing just as she was going out to retrieve Remus from where she thought he was spending the full moon inside the Shrieking Shack, rendered speechless at the sight of them so battered and bruised.

They'd covered Remus up with spare clothes that Peter had prepared earlier, but they all still looked a state — the werewolf in question was a bleeding mess of fresh cuts, broken bones and nausea from such inexperienced apparating, whilst Peter and Cove were equally riddled with tangled hair and dirty uniforms from their night spent tumbling through the woods. Cove was also drenched head to toe in icy lake water, as well as riddled with minor injuries from her adventures.

Well, most of them were minor, anyway.

Cove and Peter had used their combined efforts and the basic knowledge from their compulsory apparition classes to bring Remus back to the castle, only for Cove to get splinched upon landing. Her shoulder had practically been severed from the rest of her body and required stitches as soon as possible, but she had insisted that Remus got medical attention first. He's been cross with her for hours ever since he found out about it.

Now, she watches as he continues to stare ahead blankly, mouth set in a firm line. There's a fresh scar tilted across his lips that's yet to have healed completely, reaching from the downturned corner of his mouth to the soft curve of his chin. Cove suspects that it's the only thing keeping him from lecturing her until his throat is raw.

"What's wrong?" she asks suddenly. "Aside from the obvious. What can I do?"

Remus shakes his head. "You've done plenty."

He turns his head away from her to try and blink away the hot tears collecting on his lashes. One of them falls, tracing a path down the crevices along his face, wriggling in between the scars that run deep and collecting on the bridge of his nose. He sets his jaw, shaking the vulnerability from his tear ducts and wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his jumper. It still smells like Cove from when she had been wearing it the night before, the wool carrying a balanced scent of coconut and the faintest traces of sea salt.

She leans forward, perching on the edge of the bed with worry crescendoing in her roaring ears. Her hands cup the sides of his jaw to gently nudge his face around to be level with her own, her heart twisting when she notices that he's crying.

"Remus?" she implores. "Talk to me."

   His lip quivers and she can feel her heart shatter into fragments deep within her chest, the frantic shards weaponising to scratch against her ribs and make her feel hollow. Her thumb smooths over the quaking crease in his eyebrows, fingertips skimming to avoid the freshest scars on his face, the ones that are still tender and roseate.

"I could've killed you," he mutters, voice cracking in agony.

"But you didn't. I'm here, I'm fine," Cove soothes as she brushes back his hair. "Besides, it was good cardio."

His glare is barbed, defensive. "That's not funny. It was stupid of you to follow me out there. Something could've happened — just because it didn't, that doesn't mean it wasn't possible."

  "Remus..." She sits back, sympathy saturating on her tongue. "I didn't think it through. I—I only... Poseidon's beard, I dunno. I didn't want you to be alone."

  Remus' chest rattles with a sigh. He hums, conflict flaring up across his face. It's in that moment that Cove yearns to understand exactly what's going on inside his head. She wants to dissect the hurt he's feeling and take it all away, to remedy his agony and even it out with the perfect amount of sweetness he deserves. She wants him to feel better, even though deep down she knows there's nothing she can do.

He draws away from her to rub his temples, nose scrunching in pain. "I just—"

Remus winces as the thinly stretched scar tissue over his mouth begins to tear and beads with droplets of blood. Cove reaches for the tissues by his bedside and presses one over the wound, applying pressure as gently as she can muster. His hand comes up to rest over her own, tracing the grooves of her rings and grimacing when the cut begins to sting.

She slips away when the bleeding stops, chucking the tissue that's more red than it is white down into a bin near the foot of the bed. Cove gnaws on her lip gently, wary that one wrong move could cause her teeth to slice through the flesh like a hot knife through butter. She watches as Pip trills upon Remus' lap, rolling over so that her tufty white underbelly faces skyward, her big paws flopping in the air.

Remus looks up from the kneazle pleadingly. "I'm in too much pain to argue right now," he murmurs. "Can we just... leave it for now?"

"Aye. Of course we can." Cove decides to try her luck, inclining her head. "Can I sit?"

Remus nods, inching over slightly on the mattress to give her room to prop herself higher up on the pillows next to him. The duvet isn't luxuriously soft and the bed springs groan with every slight movement she makes, but being nestled at his side is more than enough for her. Only this time, he sinks into her, his head coming to slump against her ribs and listen in as her heart beats like a metronome in his ear. She stays still, her hands eventually dropping to cradle his shoulders and pull him close.

He looks down at Pip to avoid Cove's eyes, scratching under her chin and feeling her rumbling purrs as they course down his fingertips.

"I understand how last night was..." she winces, "...not my best moment but,
like I said, I didn't want you to go through all that alone. Couldn't think of any better ideas, either."

Remus nods again, though his face looks a little more tense. When he goes to sit up and be level with her, he sucks in a hissing breath as if something hurts and has to wave Cove off when she tenses up. Pip protests his sudden movement and leaps across to the opposite side of bed to sit against Cove's abdomen, harshly kneading her stomach and getting her claws entangled in the fabric that rests there.

  Remus watches them quietly. He reaches over with his free, un-bandaged hand to card his fingertips through the kneazle's soft fur. His hand falters.

"I don't want you to be afraid of me," he admits, voice no more than a mutter.

  Cove looks up. Her eyebrows furrow as she studies him closely, taken aback at the insinuation that she'd ever see him as anything other than himself. She wants to preach his perfections until the infirmary is reverberating with her words and the blush on his face is a furious, volcanic red. She wants to trade in her eyes and allow for him to see the truth, to see a reflection of his beauty through her rose-tinted glasses for once. Cove just wants him to find appreciation in himself instead of cowering behind the doubts and insecurities he'd accumulated over the years.

  Though, she suspects that saying all of that might come on a bit strong. She just settles for some simpler reassurance. ( For now, at least... ) 

"I'll never be afraid of you, Remus," she replies without hesitation. "Or who you are."

  He ducks his head. "Promise?"

"Of course." Her tone grows teasing. "Even if you are a little nocturnally challenged."

He snorts. "That doesn't even make sense."

Cove shrugs. "English isn't my first language."

   "Don't start."

The door creaks open, rupturing the moment and urging them back to reality. She looks over to see who it is, her hand halting its fiddling to rest comfortably on Remus' shoulder. Her breath hitches, and Cove can't help it when her smile falters slightly at the sight of dark hair and stormy grey eyes.

Sirius. Again.

   He stands awkwardly in the doorway, his top shirt buttons agape and his tie hanging undone over his shoulders. His jewellery is clunky along his arms and around his neck, all spikes and silver to contrast with the warmth of the Gryffindor robes he's balled up in his hand. A tatty, torn up t-shirt depicting the Sex Pistols has been thrown on over his uniform and Cove can already predict that Madam Pomfrey'll throw a fit at the sight of him, the stickler for rules that she is.

"Hi," he coughs out.

Remus blinks. "Hello."

Nobody says anything for a bit. It's painfully awkward.

Cove looks between them carefully and takes it upon herself to flee the scene. "Well, then. I'll leave yous to it."

She gives Remus' hand one last squeeze before drawing away, slipping from the springy hospital bed and beginning to head for the doors, her good arm slung across an old tote protectively.

She pauses to look up at the other boy, her face overcast and unreadable. "Sirius."

He nods. "Cove."

She hums, dipping her head in acknowledgement. Then, Cove shoulders on past, her curls whisking past in a maelstrom and hitting against his shoulder hard.

   "We'll talk about this later," Remus calls down the room at her. She turns to toss him a tight-lipped smile, ducking out into the hall and disappearing away to fourth period.

Sirius' thick black boots clunk against the linoleum when he moves forward, his dark uniform a stark contrast to the sterile hospital environment. It looks as though he's trying his hardest to stand out against everything today. Though, Remus supposes that doesn't seem very out of the ordinary for him.

"Is it alright if I..." He trails off, gesturing vaguely towards the creaky folding chair that's been propped up next to the bed. Remus nods.

He collapses onto it, shoulders rolling back in relaxation as he slings his school bag down on the ground. He quickly straightens up from where he's slumped, chin tilting to stare at Remus head on with a little more intensity than is probably necessary. It's obvious that he's nervous, even when he's trying his hardest not to let it shine through.

"Hi," Sirius repeats. "How're you feeling?"

Remus huffs a laugh through his nose. "I wish everyone would stop asking me that."

"Er, right."

Now, he's having a hard time holding eye contact for longer than thirty seconds at a time, his stare burning into the peeling bed frame when he can't handle looking him in the eye. Still, from the side angle he's been receiving, Remus can make out the smudged eyeliner that's been lathered expertly on his lids, sharply flaring out at the ends with an amplified sense of drama that can't be his handiwork.

Remus arches an eyebrow. "Eros been experimenting on you again, then?"

Sirius snickers and looks away bashfully, fingertips coming to trace patters around the make up. "Yeah. D'you reckon I look like Alice Cooper?"

He hums in affirmation. "Maybe leave the singing to Eros, though. You suit the guitar more."

"Cheers."

They sit silently for a moment, basking in the first conversation they've shared in weeks that hasn't ended with them at each other's throats. Remus could almost laugh at the whole situation they've found themselves in but he tries his hardest to refrain.

   "What've you come to say?" Remus asks. "I know you've not just dropped in for a chat."

   Sirius blinks away the surprise clouding his eyes and leans forward to lean his elbows upon his knees, clearing his throat and picking at the polish on his fingernails. He seems to be wrestling with himself, mulling over all the different words that come to mind before starting off with a slow and safe choice.

"I came to apologise," Sirius begins, his voice boldening back to that self-assured tone that Remus knows well. "Properly this time... and I'm not taking no for an answer. Even if I have to apologise a hundred times, I'll keep going until we can work this all out."

   Remus raises his eyebrows, trying not to yelp at the twinging of a scar. "Go on, then."

   He takes a breath. "I'm sorry about that argument we had the other night, before... you know. I was being a total prick."

Remus doesn't say anything. He gestures with his hand, urging him to continue.

"Y'know, I see how much she cares about you now. I... I just wanted the very best for you, or something like that. Didn't want to stand by and watch you get your heart broken. You already suffer too much for that type of pain." He smiles. "I couldn't have been more wrong about her, huh?"

Sirius locks eyes with him. They grow soft in their sockets, the stormy grey he's so used to growing less turbulent and allowing for cracks of warmth to shine on through. Stilling like the surface of the lake adrift the mid morning tranquility, misted over by sorrow and pleading. It feels odd to see him like that. Vulnerable, meaningful.

Remus mirrors the soft smile, even if it strains the forming scar across his mouth. Pip pads down to the foot of the bed, reaching over to nuzzle her head into Sirius' knee when she's parallel to him. His eyes soften at the sight.

"It's alright, mate," Remus says. "Still, very typical of you to do something that stupid."

"Merlin, I know. Eros wouldn't let me hear the end of it," Sirius murmurs. His lips turn up in a grin at the rumbling laugh that earns from Remus.

"He's really got you wrapped around his finger, doesn't he?" Remus remarks.

Sirius' face grows dreamy and his faraway stare dance patterns over the ceiling. "Oh, don't I know it."

Remus shakes his head, stifling a laugh. He knows that look all too well. Thinking about that brings him back down to earth, a more serious tone overtaking him as his mind trails onto further thoughts of his girlfriend.

"I take it that Cove hasn't forgiven you, yet?" he ventures carefully.

Sirius bobs his head down into a nod. "Yea. It's alright, though. I think I'm growing on her."

He snorts. "She'll come around eventually."

    Sirius hesitates. His focus keeps darting between the scarred face before him and the scuffed up leather of his own boots. He cracks his knuckles noisily, much to the chagrin of Remus' sensitive hearing, and inhales through his nose.

"Are we good?"

Remus looks at him for a moment. Really looks — when he pushes past all the pride and stubbornness that dust the surface, he can see traces of pure sincerity as it wriggles through the defences he's had in place since their falling out. He waits for an answer with nervousness rolling off him in waves and for the first time in weeks, Remus feels something other than bitterness towards his best friend.

Remus' lips quirk up. "We're good."

Sirius exhales a breath of relief, forehead falling down to rest on his clasped fists. He can't smother his crazed grin at those two words, refraining from getting up and doing a lap around the school while professing how elated he is that they're not angry at each other anymore. He really, really doesn't like arguing with Remus.

The moment, however, is ruined when Madam Pomfrey comes striding over, her arms flapping wildly around her head.

"Remus!" she shrieks. "What have I said about creatures in the Hospital Wing?"

Sirius makes an indignant noise. "Miss, that's a bit harsh. I'm sitting right here."

"I'm referring to the kneazle, Sirius."

Remus looks down at Pip. "Aw, nah, Miss. Can I just keep her in here? She's sound."

"She's unsanitary."

"That's not true," he defends. "She had a bath on Tuesday."

   Pip meows innocently.

Madam Pomfrey looks as though she's verging on an aneurysm. "Get her out of my sight or—"

    "Here, I'll take her," Sirius offers. "I can give her back to Cove."

    Pomfrey folds her arms across her chest with a frustrated huff. "Very well, I'll allow it." She moves to point an accusatory finger. "And don't think for one second that I'm going to let you get away with that uniform, young man."

   Sirius bundles up Pip in her arms as if she's made from fragile porcelain, prone to shattering, flashing a shiny smile at the matron and beginning to back away towards the door.

    "Ah, of course, Poppy," he assents, nodding briskly. "I'll sort it out right away. It won't happen again."

    Remus can see the two fingers twisted behind his back. He can't help scoffing a laugh at the action.

"Bye, Sirius," he calls, trying to shoo him away in time to save his skin from the surprisingly scalding wrath of Madam Pomfrey.

Sirius shoots him a small wave. "See you." He turns to the mediwitch and practically bows before her, using his free hand to push the double doors behind him ajar for a quick getaway. "Until we meet again."

"You're pushing it, today, Mr Black." She glares at him. "I really should demerit you for being so disruptive, or perhaps take away a few house points."

He grins hopefully. "But you won't?"

"Get out."

"Understood."

author's note!

me frantically searching for punk 70s fashion inspo on pinterest to describe sirius' uniform

the alternative title for this chapter is 'bros before hoes' in true sirius fashion

on another note, thank you so much for 40k on sea swallow me!! i'm beyond grateful for you all, i never expected this fic to get as much attention as it has and i adore everyone that takes the time to vote & comment on this fic!! you all mean sm to me, thank you so much 🫶🏻🫶🏻