alliteration | ( tea for two ; harry potter ; pg-13 )

title: tea for two
fandom: harry potter
rating: pg-13
summary: remus lupin, the morning after his first transformation post-marauders.

Time has done little to dull the ache in his chest. Almost a month since James and Lily, since Peter, and the grief still feels as new as it was the day after he heard what had happened. Sometimes, just as he's waking, he thinks he's still back at Hogwarts. It's seventh year, and James is going to pounce on him any second. He braces for the much-too-chipper-for-this-hour laughter and wonders if it will be directed at him this time, or if Padfoot is going to come back from yet another adventure between the sheets later than he intended. (Remus regrets ever pointing out that there were other bedrooms in the castle besides the dorms—Sirius was much harder to keep out of trouble since he'd had that revelation given to him.)

But then his brain recognizes the scents around him and he realizes, no. He's not at Hogwarts. He's in his small, ramshackle rental home. James and Lily are dead. Sirius killed them and Peter. Alright, technically he wasn't the one to cast the spells that killed Prongs and his wife, but he as good as did the deed himself. Anger swells in Remus' chest at that thought. For a moment, it's almost enough to overpower the feelings of loss. Sadly, the moment passes quickly when his brain reminds him that anger is part of grieving and he is actually grieving for that no-good, lying, son of a bitch traitor and the friendship they had.

He shoves aside all those thoughts and pushes himself up off the floor. It's a good thing he's magic or the basement would take more time to repair than he has before the next full moon. Between the spider-thin cracks in the walls and the bloodstains on the carpet, the place looks like a landlord's worst nightmare. Remus looks down at his splintered, bleeding nails, at the scratches and bruises that mar his body. This was easier, he thinks, when he had even one Animagi to keep him company.

Cleaning himself up is the first thing he does after pulling himself upstairs. Cheap, old towels are what he uses to wipe the blood off. Secondhand ones that are ready to be tossed with the trash because they're so threadbare. He's sparing with the gauze and rolls of bandages. When the soft cotton of his shirt catches on a small, uncovered cut on his back, he can't help but suck in a noisy breath. But better to endure a little pain and have more supplies for next month than have to spend more money. It's hard to keep a job with his... condition.

As he's brushing his teeth, the kettle whistles on the stove. Toothpaste is spat into the sink, his mouth is rinsed, and it's back into the kitchen. Instinctively, he grabs two kinds of tea. Remus is a fan of Earl Grey, but Sirius likes that one black tea that Remus can never quite figure out how to pronounce. After a night like last night– Remus stops and looks down at the two mugs of tea. There is no one else in his house save for him. Sirius is not there. He's in Azkaban.

Almost before he knows what he's doing, Remus grabs the mug of unpronounceable tea and hurls it against the wall with a hoarse yell. He doesn't pick up the glass shards for hours. The stain he leaves on the wall until he has to move out. As a reminder.