Chapter Text
Remus threaded his arms through his woollen jumper, the fine threads snagging on the scabs that were starting to form on his hands. Slipping it over his head, he looked out of the window while neatening his dishevelled hair.
This sun had just begun to rise behind the mountains, casting a wintry lilac onto the tips of frosted branches. A full night of rain had left the clouds thin and long, stretching over the dawn of Christmas morning. But in its absence, it left cold, patterns of ice on the edges of the windows – fogging up what could be a beautiful view.
Remus held his pyjama shirt in his hands, and with his thumb, traced the faint specks of blood on them. He had replayed the moment on the stairs enough times now that his stomach no longer plummeted and instead settled into bitter acceptance. The conversation he had overheard felt like Spring’s first gust of wind that sent the last rotten fruit to fall. There was relief in that thought, awareness of the inevitable, of knowing there would be no end. He had purged his false hope and with its acceptance, came his own personal promise - to never be so naïve again.
Never
The knock at his door brought him back to the present.
‘Come in.’
The door opened slightly and his father peered through, smiling at him. His face was clean shaven for Christmas day and hair was combed neatly over, grey hairs peppering through.
‘Merry Christmas, Remus,’ his father said, edging the door wider and walking inside. The sound of the radio downstairs drifted music inside with him.
‘Merry Christmas,’ Remus greeted back softly.
‘Managed to sleep alright?’ His father nodded towards the bedside table.
Remus followed his father’s gaze and caught sight of the small bag of marbles sitting behind the empty vials.
‘I slept fine,’ he replied sharply, folding up his pyjamas. ‘What about you, Dad?’
‘Oh, yes, I slept fine,’ his father said with his arms behind his back. He was straightening the floor rug with his shoe.
Remus pulled his eyes away from the dark circles under his father’s eyes and walked over to his bed. He lifted the cover and began straightening the sheet, acutely aware of his father’s presence that was as subtle as a pebble in his shoe.
‘I have something for you,’his father suddenly said. ‘It’s from your mother and I.’
Remus stretched the bed sheet tight, driving his hand roughly to tuck it under the mattress. ‘I didn’t ask for anything.’
‘You never do,’ his father said. ‘So, we took matters into our own hands.’
Remus smelt the leather before he saw it and he looked up at what his father held out to him. He recognised the large book immediately. He straightened up, the light from his windows catching the gold foiling on the front cover as he did so.
Magical Maladies, Injuries and Treatments of the Wizarding World 11 th Edition
It was exactly like the Hogwarts Library copy, but in this case, there were no chipping leather or torn pages from its use. The red texture of the cover gleamed with freshly cured oil and the white deckled edges between the covers lay thick in numbers. Remus could almost imagine the sound of cracking leather only just opened.
He looked up at his father, his blue eyes creased in the corners from his smile.
‘How did…?’
‘Dumbledore,’ Lyall quickly answered, pausing before adding. ‘Ran into him a couple days back. It seems that a Mr Remus John Lupin kept checking this very book out of the library, just as he had planned to.’
Cheeks heating up, Remus rubbed the back of his neck. James had initially checked the book out when Moony had left a couple of nasty scratches on Prongs – it was the only book that gave detailed healing techniques. Eventually, Remus started checking the book out himself, looking for answers.
His father pushed the book towards him. ‘Here, take it my boy – and who knows, maybe we might have the first healer in the family.’ He smiled proudly.
Fingers tingling from wanting to feel the weight of the book in them, wanting to believe his father - again.
Remus quickly folded his arms. ‘I can’t.’
Lyall chuckled. ‘Of course you can.’
Squeezing his fists tighter, Remus took a step back. ‘How much was it?’
Lyall frowned at the question.
‘How much did it cost, Dad?’ He repeated.
Lyall shook his head, dismissing the question. ‘Now that doesn’t matter.’
‘It does. However much it was, it’s money wasted.’ Remus couldn’t hide the anger in his voice.
Lyall stared at him, the book still hanging between them.
‘You’re being naïve,’ Remus threw his pillow onto the bed. ‘I can’t become a healer.’
His father’s eyebrows knitted together. ‘You can be anything you want.’
‘Can I, dad?’ Remus laughed mirthlessly, heart pounding hard against his chest. ‘Can I really?’
His father leaned back again, confusion in his eyes. ‘I don’t understand…’
The sound of his mother singing along to the radio travelled up the stairs and into the room with it. Lyall’s eyes darted towards the sound, his father’s clever mind working something out. He looked back at Remus and his expression shifted, he opened his mouth to say something.
Ask me. Go on dad, ask me.
But his father only fell silent.
Remus’ breath became shallow, rushed, he wanted to see his father like his mother had seen him last night. No more overheard conversations from behind corners, no, he wanted the truth.
And he would get it.
‘Do you know why I checked this book out of the library, dad?’ He turned towards him, watching as his father slowly lifted his eyes up to him. ‘Not because I want to become a healer, no, because I wanted to know how much of a lost cause I am.’ The radio continued to travel between them, intrusive and only fueling Remus’ anger. ‘Do you know what it says under the Werewolf section? It’s only two pages, really.’
Remus looked down at the book his father still held out to him.
‘No cure and highly dangerous,’ he said quietly. ‘That’s it, that’s all. No words of encouragement for me, no side note letting me know my life is just like everyone else’s.’ He shrugged. ‘Dad, the biggest lie you ever told me, was that one day everything would be alright.’ Remus watched his father deflate in front of him, shoulders dropping as did the book to his side. ‘You would always say, one day - one day things will work out, but not today. Never today.’
Remus could feel the edge of the bedside table behind him, the room seemed to be growing smaller.
‘Remus,’ his father said calmly. ‘Please listen to me-’
‘That one day,’ Remus shook his head. ‘It will never come.’
‘Remus-’
No, get angry with me.
‘You’re wasting money on me, buying me books when-’ he swallowed his breath. ‘When mam’s slippers have holes in them.’ His father winced at that. ‘And your cloak, Merlin dad, you’re still wearing that old tattered rubbish – have more pride in yourself. They’ll sack you-’
‘Enough, Remus!’
The shout seemed to echo in his small room for an extra beat and the two of them stared at each other, both wide eyed at the burst.
Remus could see his father’s embarrassment shine through his tired face.
Lyall brushed his hand through his hair, messing where he had neatly combed it.‘Enough.’ So softly this time, it felt as if he were talking to himself.
'I understand your anger, I accept it.' He placed the book gently onto the bed. ‘But please, don’t let your mother hear you talking like this - don’t let her know about this.’
For a split second, the ghost of Gelert the Hound settled on his father’s face, etched into the lines around his mouth and eyes as if they too were carved by stone. Remus stared at his mother’s guardian. Something had erupted inside both Lyall and Remus in this little room, aware of the roles they each played, and the ones they were casting out finally.
His father gave one small sigh and without another word, turned away and left - closing the bedroom door quietly behind him.
Glancing down at the large book that indented its weight into his mattress, Remus grabbed his pillow and threw it on top of it. A part of him wished he could suffocate the words he had just said to his father but he couldn’t deny the wash of relief inside him...
His father’s anger seemed to have hung up like a picture frame in his room.
The smell of sweet citrus and woodsmoke was strong as Remus stepped onto the landing. Walking into the dining room, his mother lifted a tablecloth up into the air so that the material floated down lazily, making wisps of her hair flutter out.
‘Nadolig Llawen, Remus,’ his mother sang out as she saw him.
Remus walked over to her and planted a kiss on her cheek. ‘Nadolig Llawen, mam,’ He helped to pull the tablecloth to reach the edges and asked, ‘Did you go to the Plygain service?’
She smiled as she ran her hands over the cloth, narrowing her eyes to make sure the crease was straight. ‘No, not this year – dreadfully cold, wasn’t it?’ She reached for a stack of their more precious plates from the wooden dresser. ‘I was much too warm in my bed to bother with boots and mittens.’
Rushing over to help her, Remus smiled to himself, all three of them had been awake at 3am, they might as well have all gone to the Plygain service. He stretched up, wincing slightly at the pinches of pain in his back, and brought down three sets of plates.
‘Maybe next year then,’ he said casually.
His father walked into the dining room, bringing three cups of tea with him.
‘Your father told me you were still sleeping when he came in this morning,’ his mother said, counting the forks and knives in her hand. ‘We didn’t want to wake you.’
Remus caught his father’s eyes, looking back down he traced the intricate designs of hand painted daffodils on the plates. ‘Yeah – I suppose I was. Merry Christmas, Dad.’ Lie upon lie, the three of them piled them on like a game of gobstones. Remus felt as if he were part of a theatrical play and the three of them were very bad actors.
‘Merry Christmas, Remus,’ his father returned as he offered him a cup.
His mother took a sip of her own tea before tapping his father on the shoulder. ‘Oh, that reminds me - Lyall, did you give Remus his present?’
‘I’m not sure if Remus has had a chance to -’
‘Saw it on my desk – it’s brilliant, Mam, thank you.’
‘Yes?’ she asked, beaming at him as she folded napkins that matched the yellow daffodils on the plates.
‘Oh yeah, it will come into good use.’
His mother raised her eyebrows. ‘Don’t go looking for reasons to use the book though, yes?’
‘I’ll try not to, Mam,’ Remus chuckled.
The day had passed them by as lazily as the fireflies that still hovered around their Christmas tree, the charm of their light still shining in and out of the branches. His father had disappeared into the kitchen, insisting he take care of the cleaning for the rest of the day.
Remus and his mother sat by the television watching the muggle Christmas movie, A Shop Around the Corner . The setting sun cast long shadows around their living room and their fire crackled pleasantly beside them. With his stomach filled with multiple helpings of lunch and Christmas pudding, Remus felt his eyes droop, occasionally waking up to a pop from the fire.
But it wasn’t long after he began to drift deeper and deeper into sleep, the sounds from the television becoming a soft mumble of incoherent words. He was dreaming of playing marbles, and he was dismal at it too, he had almost lost his whole set. Looking down into his palm, he fidgeted the only three he had left, hearing them tap together.
Clink clink clink
Remus wondered whether it was worth carrying on with the game - what if he lost all of them?
Clink clink clink
‘Remus?’
Remus woke up with a start, he looked over towards his mother.
She smiled apologetically. ‘I think there’s a letter for you at the window.’
Turning around towards the darkening window, a large chestnut owl peered back at him, tapping its beak against the window.
Clink clink clink
Remus got up instantly at the sight of the familiar owl.
His mother chuckled and switched off the television as the credits began to roll in. ‘Looks like the Potter’s owl, much more well-behaved than your father’s. Just don’t let it into the kitchen please.’ And she walked out of the room. ‘Let me go see if your father is sneaking in leftovers.’
Remus opened the window for the owl, a gust of cold and wet mountain air made him shiver. ‘You poor thing, they made you fly through this?’
Feathers ruffled from the cold, the owl hooted in annoyed agreement before sticking its leg out.
Remus had barely untied the small scroll from the owl’s leg when it gave a chirp, stretched out its large wings and flew off into the dark sky.
Remus watched it disappear again and unravelled the small paper.
The message was short and, in his familiarity of James, a little uncharacteristic.
Brace yourself, Moony.
Frowning, he turned the paper over.
Nothing.
‘Merlin, this can’t be good,’ Remus said to himself.
As if that were the summons, green flames erupted from their fireplace, and a figure appeared, coughing and dusting off soot.
‘Hello Moony, did you get my owl?’
Crouched over to not hit his head, James grinned at him as casually as if he had just walked into the Gryffindor common room.
‘James – what are you bloody doing here?’ Remus laughed and walked over to help him out of the fireplace.
James brushed off ash from his jumper. ‘Delivering your present.’
‘My present?’ Remus raised his eyebrows suspiciously.
‘Yeah!’ Stretching his arms out, James gave a little turn. ‘Do you like it?’
‘It’s you?’
‘It’s me.’
Remus snorted.
‘Hello James, I thought I heard a familiar voice.’ His mother and father appeared at the doorway smiling at their unexpected guest.
‘Merry Christmas, Mr and Mrs Lupin, sorry to barge in,’ James said. ‘I was wondering if I could possibly kidnap your son for the rest of the holidays.’ He wrapped an arm around Remus. ‘I promise I’ll feed him properly and leave out some newspaper for him.’
Remus laughed. ‘Do I get a say in this?’
‘Shh,’ James frowned. ‘The adults are talking.’
He swatted at James’ hand. ‘I’m older than you, last time I checked. And…’ He looked over at his parents. ‘I think my parents want me around for a bit more before school, isn’t it?’
Hope chuckled and looked up at Lyall. ‘I think it’s a good idea for Remus to get out of the house, don’t you think Lyall?’
Lyall studied Hope’s face for a moment before looking back at Remus. ‘If that’s what Remus would like - then I suppose it would be alright.’
‘Brilliant – go pack your things, lad,’ James clapped Remus on his back. ‘I’ll meet you back at my place, I’m off to pay our Peter a visit next.’
Remus grinned at him as he stepped back into the fireplace – feeling the happiest he did all day.
With his trunk open in the middle of his room, Remus began to pack it in a rush, grabbing anything he could. He squashed the new pair of trousers that sat at the bottom of his trunk, which neither his mother nor father thought he’d noticed, he piled his school textbooks over them until they were out of his sight. Straightening up, he began to wrap his socks around the ink bottles to keep them safe, and scanned his room for anything else he might have missed.
The large red book still sat on his bed from where his father had left it. Remus darted his eyes away, only to fall onto the small bag of marbles by his bedside. Thoughts began to swim inside his mind again, and like a plug out of a sink, he felt his excitement circle the drain.
Quickly, he shoved the socks with ink bottles into a corner and Remus shut the lid of his trunk with a sharp snap before dragging it out of his room.
At the top of the stairs he looked down to see his mother and father in a tight embrace, Hope combed the back of his hair soothingly.
Catching sight of Remus, she smiled up at him. ‘Ready?’
Remus hesitated, eyes darting between the two of them. ‘Yeah - I mean, one moment I forgot something.’ Dropping the handle of his trunk, he ran back into his room and grabbed the book, clutching it tightly under his arm before making his way back to the stairs. His father was making his way up and as Remus reached for his trunk handle again, he stopped him.
‘Here, let me.’ His father said and pulled out his wand. If he noticed the book under his son's arm, he made no sign of it.
‘Lyall, mind the pictures please,’ his mother said, watching the trunk levitate down the stairs. ‘Have everything, Remus?’ She held a parcel of tinfoil in her hands.
‘Think so,’ Remus said, following his father down the stairs.
‘Extra vests?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Socks?’
‘Mhm.’
‘Gloves?’
‘Everything-’ He reached the landing and kissed his mother on the cheek, and with a tease added. ‘-but the kitchen sink.’
‘Let your mam worry and pester you, please, I only have so much time before you’re too grown up,’ She shoved the package of tinfoil into his hands. ‘I packed you boys some bakestones. Make sure to help around the Potters’ home and pick up after yourself.’
‘I know,’ he said, smiling sheepishly. ‘Thanks, Mam.’
‘And write to us.’
‘I always do.’
Hope wrapped her arms around him. ‘Yes you do.’ She squeezed him tightly.
Walking into the living room, his father waited for them by the fireplace, James’ sooty footprints still sat on the rug.
His father pushed the trunk into the fireplace before turning towards Remus, brushing his hand over his mouth as if thinking of something to say but instead he cleared his throat. ‘Well, goodbye, my boy.’
‘Bye, Dad.’
Remus wrapped his one arm around his father, the other still keeping hold of the book. Feeling the scratchy woollen threads under his bandaged fingers, Remus lifted his hand away and felt his father pull away at the same time.
‘Enjoy yourself,' his father said, clapping him on the shoulder before walking over to the jar of Floo powder and uncorking the lid. He shook the jar a little to loosen up the contents and bought it over to Remus.
Remus reached his hand in, pinched a bit of the fine glittery powder between his fingers before throwing it into the fire. The flames grew emerald green and almost seemed to flicker in slow-motion. Stepping inside, feeling the flames harmlessly disturb the fabric of his robes, he turned around for a last goodbye. His father wrapped an arm around his mother, bringing her in close to him.
‘Behave yourself,’ she called out, smiling at him with a knowing look in her eyes and Lyall gave a small chuckle. ‘No wandering about strange places, please.’
‘I’m a prefect, Mam, wouldn’t dream of it,’ Remus said before clearing his throat.
His mother smiled, lifting a hand to wave at him goodbye and his father pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Remus could have believed it all, he could leave with this very image in his mind, tucked as tightly as the book under his arm.
Speaking in a clear voice, he said, ‘James Potter’s house.’
Before the room could disappear from view, Remus caught his father’s eyes and the performance in front of him was broken. Glistening back at him, blue meeting blue.
Remus felt himself lean forward to take a step out of the archway just before he was hurtled into nothingness. Shutting his eyes tightly, he felt he might hurl every bit of his Christmas pudding before his feet found hard stone and warm light glowed behind his eyelids.
He shot them open and smiled at the sight in front of him.
‘What took you so long, Moony?’