Chapter Text
Summer in the bunker was usually bearable, unless the air conditioning was malfunctioning, in which case summer in the bunker became hotter than hell. Some would call that one of the ultimate drawbacks of living 150 metres underground; when something goes wrong, there’s no guarantee it can be fixed. And, while a little extra heating hadn’t caused anyone to drop dead yet, Remus was still sweating absolute buckets in the radio room, with a single desk fan offering him nothing much than white noise for his thoughts. His hair – outgrown and beginning to curl wildly at the ends – clung to his pale face like wet paper, sticking flat against his forehead in a way that made him feel even hotter, and ten times as gross. Fortunately for him, Lily was looking worse.
She laid stomach flat to the limecrete floor, red hair fanned out around her like a frizzy mane of wild fur. She wore no clothes, besides her sports bra and boxer briefs to keep as cool as possible. Remus had crafted a makeshift fan out of paper and was blowing a steady breeze her way while she rolled to her side, hand flailing out to find her water bottle.
“Thank God James doesn’t have to see you like this,” Remus joked, kicking her limp body as he laughed.
“If he doesn’t love me at my lowest, then I don’t want him.” She huffed back.
“Sure, but I can’t say this would be his greatest first impression of you.”
“Yeah, well, given the state of the world right now, Remus, I doubt he’ll ever even have a first impression of me.” Lily pressed her face straight into the floor, groaning.
Remus had never understood the power of love, until he saw it with his own eyes. Or, heard it, he supposed.
Lily Evans and James Potter had never met, yet loved each other with an intensity that would rival the summer sun. They’d spent the last two years, five months and eleven days talking though Remus’s radio system, which he had set up to keep in contact with other bases. To monitor calls, discuss trades, and receive news about the plague. To contemplate how much time humanity really had left. At first, Lily was working as an informant. She represented their recovery base, acting as a voice for their leaders, while Remus worked quietly behind the scenes. But so was James over in London, and within six months, their daily conversations worth fifteen minutes of food rationing and trade turned into four hours of laughter and connection. Their bond was beautiful, and Remus would know, seeing as he had spent hours every day sitting next to Lily as the couple shared stories of their mornings, or fantasised about their life together when they one day meet.
If that’s even possible.
It did tend to get mildly uncomfortable, if he’s being honest, but he couldn’t just leave. This was his job. Keep in contact with local bases through radio waves and telecommunications, monitoring every call and boring himself to death. This includes Lily and James’s endless flirting and drafting’s of wedding vows, because - oh yes, despite never meeting, they’re recently engaged!
Good for them, honestly. Remus was glad they had each other, truly – but there’s no denying it stung to watch his best friend miss someone she’d never met. It was that ache that kept him here. That looming sense of protection over Lily that held him at a holt – at a standstill. Knowing there’s life above surface, a chance of rebirth, renewal. But Remus could never be greedy. It was down here, in the combs of Carmarthen, Wales, that he belonged. Down here, he was rich with purpose and drive, he was important. Without his skills, the base never would have survived. It was his calloused hands that build this bunker through wires and static, hacking into satellites left years untouched. And he had done good.
Was it selfish to want more?
Was it lustful to seek connection?
Was it psychopathic to sometimes toy with the idea of an electrical fire?
No. No, no. Remus wasn’t psychopathic. Remus was anything but that. He was intelligent, and witty, and slightly introverted, but he’ll claim that’s just because no one else is worthy of good conversation, or his time. Slightly egotistical, on occasion, but not psychopathic.
You know who is psychopathic?
2:56AM.
Remus was just done braiding Lily’s matted curls away from her face – a task that tended to take hours due the absolute mass volume of her thick, red hair. Now, she slept peacefully, but horrendously, with drool pooling out the corners of her mouth and her freckled face smouched against her pillow in an incredibly unflattering manner. He chucked to himself at the sight, stretching his stiff arms above his head and relishing in the oddly satisfying pop of his joints. Remus and Lily shared an immensely cramped room, so small that his fingertips brushed the ceiling when he stretched. Its claustrophobic. He’d often find himself gasping for air here, as if the weight of the earth had sieved itself through the titanium walls and fallen straight into his lungs. It was suffocating. The whole bunker. So, so suffocating.
It was too much for Remus to hold onto alone, now that Lily was fast asleep, so he tiptoed past her bunk, leaving her in darkness as he stumbled through the bunker to the radio room. He needed no flashlight – these late night trips to his office were pathed with the route of pure muscle memory. There, he settled in, with a cold cup of stale coffee (what a luxury), listening to the crackle of static until the sudden scratch of Jame’s voice cut in, making him jump in his seat.
“Carmarthen Recovery Base, this is Prongs with London Resistance, come in – over.”
“London Resistance, this is Moony with Carmarthen Recovery, over.” Remus releases the mic button with a click.
“Ah, Moony! Good to hear your voice for once, struggling to sleep as well?”
“Yes, and no,” he sighed. “Quarters here are bloody cramped, I tell you. Hard to sleep with your legs dangling off the bed frame.”
“I think, maybe you’re just abnormally tall when compared to the average height of everyone else in that bunker.”
“And now, how would you know that, Prongs?”
James laughed through the static. “You just seem super tall in my mind when I imagine you.”
“I cannot confirm, nor deny.”
“You don’t need to, I know you’re at least six feet two.”
There was a short silence.
“Six three, actually.”
Then there was laughter.
Revealing these things, as miniscule as something like Remus’s height might be, still posed such a dangerous risk; anyone could be tapped into their frequency. Even at this time of morning.
“So,” James begun to say. “How’s my missus?”
Remus leaned back, his chair creaking with him. “Yeah, yeah, she’s alright.” He smiled through the lie.
“Moons. Tell me the truth.”
“Nah, its really no big deal, we’ve been through worse.”
James wasn’t having it. “I’m serious, what’s up with her? I haven’t heard anything from her since, like, early morning yesterday!”
“I’m not meant to tell you. She’s worried the mental image will put you off if I open my mouth.”
“Moony!”
Remus barked out a laugh. “Fine! But she’s gonna be so mad at me!” He shook his head with a grin. “Basically, Red found an old pack of fireworks in the storage unit – a bloody massive area of the bunker, the bottom level full of old shit we can’t really use anymore, but coincidentally where most of our air conditioning and ventilation systems are.”
“Oh, no.”
“So, Red, ‘understandably’, are her words, lit a small firework thinking it would be… something more like a birthday sparkler. Obviously, it wasn’t. It’s a fucking firework. And it shot straight into the temperature control box. Thankfully, it missed air flow and ventilation, so we aren’t suffocating down here, but fuck me, Prongs, is it hot.”
“Christ on a fucking bike.”
“Yes, so, she’s spent most of yesterday and today wallowing not only in the consequences of her own actions while we all work to fix it, but also a bucket of her own sweat and tears.”
“Y’know, I love the woman, but my god, is she stupid sometimes.” He could hear James scoffing at the humour of it all.
“She is, but she’s strong, so she makes up for it. I don’t even mean that in a metaphorical sense, either. Honestly, I’d consider myself pretty fit, but I can guarantee you that woman could deadlift me. I couldn’t have survived the outbreak without her dragging me everywhere.”
“That is…” James took a deep breath in, rattling the mic. “like, really hot.”
“What, me being fit?” Remus was smiling now.
“Oh yeah, definitely. If anything gets me going, it’s my fiancée’s best friend, not my actual fiancée.”
Remus choked on his coffee. “Prongs!” He yelled through a laugh. “You’re gross, mate.”
“What, I’m not your type, Moons?”
“Let me think,” he begun to list. “Arrogant, self-absorbed, hyperactive – no, I don’t think you are.”
“Don’t forget devilishly handsome. Oh! Can you tell that to Red for me?”
Remus chuckled, and said sweetly, “No.”
“You dick.”
“Shouldn’t you be getting to bed, Prongsie? It’s quite late now.”
“Literally, can’t.” James sighed. “Padfoot’s blasting his music, again.”
“Oh, goodie,” Remus replied sarcastically. “What’s he playing this time?”
“Black Sabbath. On repeat. If I have to hear Paranoid one more time-”
“Fucking brilliant song-”
“-I’ll hang myself.”
“Ah, ah, ah,” Remus tutted. “Red wouldn’t like that very much.”
“Well, thank fuck she has you then!”
Remus cocked his head in agreeance. “True that.”
“No, but mate, I really am so glad she’s got a friend like you, y’know? Oh, hey Si-” James’s audio cut out.
Remus sat and waited for James to come back, fiddling with a loose string on his jumper sleeve before growing impatient, and spinning in his chair instead. He didn’t want to stop talking to James. If he stopped now, he’d have to face the heat and wander back to bed. And he really didn’t want to do that. Not just because of the struggle to fall asleep in such awful quarters, but what awaits him when he does. Dreams of bombs, blood, death, or, worse.
God almighty, he could fall asleep to dreams of James’s best friend.
“Moony, you still there? Guess who’s here! Padfoot! Pads, say hi-”
Another voice intercepted from the same operator as James’s call. “Hey, Moony!”
Its Sirius fucking Black.
Remus swore under his breath. He can’t seem to escape him. “Hey, Pads. Done blasting your music?”
He giggled. He fucking giggled. “Yeah, suppose I should give Prongs a break for once.” In the background of the audio, Remus could hear a distant thank fuck, coming from no one other than James. Poor guy.
“How are things?” Sirius continued. “Three years in hiding still treating your lot okay?”
Remus grumbled at that. “We aren’t in hiding, Padfoot.”
“Oh, of course, that’s right. You’re in recovery. Hence the name.”
“And you’re conspiring with anarchists. Resistance is a synonym for rebellion, you know.”
He could practically hear Sirius smile. “You never say these things to Prongs. He’s also part of the Resistance.”
“Not by choice!” He can hear James yell from a distance, the microphone only just picking up his voice.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. It’s too late for you now, Prongs. You can’t leave.” Sirius spoke to James in the background.
“Exactly!” Remus interjected. “You can’t leave! You are literally trapped down there while London shapes you all into an army. At least in recovery bases, you have the option to go whenever you want.”
“Oh? Then why haven’t you, Moony?”
Padfoot got him there.
“Why are you still there?”
Fuck.
“Silence speaks volumes, you know!” Sirius sung, a clear tone of victory in his voice.
The truth is, Remus was lying to himself. Yes, he had purpose here, but he did yearn to feel the air above. But if he left, like always, Lily would follow, sending them straight to London – to James and Sirius. But she’d also trap them in a resistance base for the rest of their lives. They’d never be allowed to leave. They’d have to fight in a war against The Order, trained and altered into machines. Remus didn’t want that life for Lily. The two of them are safe over here, in Wales, a military base accepting refugees and travellers, a medical safe haven for those injured, a graveyard for those lost. Sure, rations might have been portioning smaller and smaller, and yes, he was typically bored out of his mind, but Remus knew he’d rather this over the torment and abuse in the resistance bases any day.
“Whatever,” Remus finally barked out. “Stop wishing I was with you right now and move on.” It was a poor attempt at a joke, but Sirius seemed to chuckle at it anyway.
“Like that’s even possible, Moons. How could I ever move on from you?”
He knew Sirius was just kidding, but that didn’t stop a hard flush of blush creeping up his neck and ears for a boy he’d never even met.
“I’m going back to sleep.” He said, pretending to sound tired through his panic. He knew James could hear. And James knew he wasn’t actually tired.
“Alright, Moons, sweet dreams.”
Oh, they most certainly will be.
“Goodnight, Padfoot.” His fingers traced the edge of the mic as he spoke, holding onto Sirius’s voice as though he could keep him there.
“Night, Moonypie!” James called out from a distance.
“Night, Prongs, talk tomorrow.” Remus smiled, and went to turn the dial off, letting his fingers lightly linger with temptation to drag out the night. But he let go. Turned the dial.
“This is Moony with the Carmarthen Recovery Base, over and out.”