fic 40 - raised by wolves [remus & sirius]
title: raised by wolves
fandom: Harry Potter
pairings: Remus Lupin/Sirius Black (maybe.)
rating: PG-13
synopsis: A more cynical look at the Lupins-because all families are fucked up.
author's note: For barefootboys' 22nd of August prompt. They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
word count: 800w approx.
Remus knows that, once upon a time, his family had been normal but this isn’t a time that Remus can remember. Still, he knows the story. His parents had experienced one of those beautiful whirlwind romances which forwent circumstances, survived reasoning and led beautifully into marriage and-for a time-they had been happy. They’d had Remus who had been a blessing-the perfect addition to the family-a wonderful, gurgling baby. He’d learnt to crawl, he’d learnt to laugh. They’d been happy. The photographs attest to that.
Remus’ first memories come after that though. These memories are a jumble of grave conversations which he wasn’t supposed to hear but didn’t understand anyway: although he understood that that something was his father’s fault. The atmosphere in the house had been uncomfortable and his parents had sent him to a Muggle primary school for a few years in what seemed to be an attempt to get him out of the house. After school, he remembers spending long afternoons in the local playground even in the greyest of weather and wanting to go home but not saying so.
Remus doesn’t remember any of his early transformations but this doesn’t surprise him. Even in adulthood, his transformations often formed great gaps in his memory. He does remember the ache of the moon’s pull though and not quite understanding it except that it always seemed to draw arguments from his parents and that-at the peak of it all-he’d been driven out to the country in the car and left there in a little house near some woods. Always that same house.
He remembers once waking up in a field and not knowing where he was until his father had found him and called his mother to them and they’d both hugged him. He remembers how they’d eaten the most wonderful lunch that day and been like a proper family for the first time that he could remember-his parents talking with their heads close together but smiling instead of frowning. There was a sort of closeness there that he would later associate with James’ parents who always smiled and talked like that but-back then-it was the only Remus had seen any such thing.
When Remus was nine, his mother moved out. He thinks he remembers this but he isn’t sure that he’s not just created a new scene for convenience. In the memory, Remus’ father tousles his hair and says, “It’ll be alright, mate, she just needs a little time.” But she doesn’t come back except to take him away to the beach every so often and have uncomfortable conversations with him about serious things. And once or twice to her parents’, a few times to a house where she lived with a man who tried to avoid looking at Remus and who Remus had stared at forcibly-as if to teach him a lesson.
When he was a little older, Remus had received a letter from his mother which was a sort of apology full of phrases like: “it’s not that I was ashamed of you… or that I didn’t love you” and “it was just that I couldn’t bear to watch you suffer when I couldn’t do a thing about it…”, “I’d do anything to take it back.”, “I’m really proud of you.” He’d never shown it to anyone or told anyone about it and he’d never known whether to believe it.
One summer though, when he was on holiday from Hogwarts, he’d said to his father, “I’m sorry I ruined it-with you and mum.”
His father had taken a long time to answer but eventually said: “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” And Remus knows that he doesn’t believe that.
One night-shortly after Sirius had run away from home-the pair of them had lain awake in James’ spare bedroom and traded miseries.
“At least you had a choice.”
“What? I could’ve gone along with them. Been a Black. Come off it.”
“I might have. If I’d had the choice. Better than this anyway.”
And the look on Remus’ face in the purple-grey dark had made Sirius falter before he said: “You don’t mean that.”
“You should have seen the look in his eyes.”
“I’ve seen it all before.”
“Pity?”
“Pity?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So are they.”
They don’t say another word that night, except when Sirius attempts to say ‘night and his voice grinds like the crackling of an LP.
When he leaves Hogwarts, he sorts himself out a place as soon as possible and doesn’t go home at Christmas. He and his father meet cordially when one or other of them is ‘in the area’ but they don’t talk much. He meets his mother once but the shocked look she gives when she sees his face-so much older now and with that fresh scar etched into his neck-makes him too cowardly to ever do so again. His excuses are flimsy but she’s not very persistent.
fandom: Harry Potter
pairings: Remus Lupin/Sirius Black (maybe.)
rating: PG-13
synopsis: A more cynical look at the Lupins-because all families are fucked up.
author's note: For barefootboys' 22nd of August prompt. They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
word count: 800w approx.
Remus knows that, once upon a time, his family had been normal but this isn’t a time that Remus can remember. Still, he knows the story. His parents had experienced one of those beautiful whirlwind romances which forwent circumstances, survived reasoning and led beautifully into marriage and-for a time-they had been happy. They’d had Remus who had been a blessing-the perfect addition to the family-a wonderful, gurgling baby. He’d learnt to crawl, he’d learnt to laugh. They’d been happy. The photographs attest to that.
Remus’ first memories come after that though. These memories are a jumble of grave conversations which he wasn’t supposed to hear but didn’t understand anyway: although he understood that that something was his father’s fault. The atmosphere in the house had been uncomfortable and his parents had sent him to a Muggle primary school for a few years in what seemed to be an attempt to get him out of the house. After school, he remembers spending long afternoons in the local playground even in the greyest of weather and wanting to go home but not saying so.
Remus doesn’t remember any of his early transformations but this doesn’t surprise him. Even in adulthood, his transformations often formed great gaps in his memory. He does remember the ache of the moon’s pull though and not quite understanding it except that it always seemed to draw arguments from his parents and that-at the peak of it all-he’d been driven out to the country in the car and left there in a little house near some woods. Always that same house.
He remembers once waking up in a field and not knowing where he was until his father had found him and called his mother to them and they’d both hugged him. He remembers how they’d eaten the most wonderful lunch that day and been like a proper family for the first time that he could remember-his parents talking with their heads close together but smiling instead of frowning. There was a sort of closeness there that he would later associate with James’ parents who always smiled and talked like that but-back then-it was the only Remus had seen any such thing.
When Remus was nine, his mother moved out. He thinks he remembers this but he isn’t sure that he’s not just created a new scene for convenience. In the memory, Remus’ father tousles his hair and says, “It’ll be alright, mate, she just needs a little time.” But she doesn’t come back except to take him away to the beach every so often and have uncomfortable conversations with him about serious things. And once or twice to her parents’, a few times to a house where she lived with a man who tried to avoid looking at Remus and who Remus had stared at forcibly-as if to teach him a lesson.
When he was a little older, Remus had received a letter from his mother which was a sort of apology full of phrases like: “it’s not that I was ashamed of you… or that I didn’t love you” and “it was just that I couldn’t bear to watch you suffer when I couldn’t do a thing about it…”, “I’d do anything to take it back.”, “I’m really proud of you.” He’d never shown it to anyone or told anyone about it and he’d never known whether to believe it.
One summer though, when he was on holiday from Hogwarts, he’d said to his father, “I’m sorry I ruined it-with you and mum.”
His father had taken a long time to answer but eventually said: “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” And Remus knows that he doesn’t believe that.
One night-shortly after Sirius had run away from home-the pair of them had lain awake in James’ spare bedroom and traded miseries.
“At least you had a choice.”
“What? I could’ve gone along with them. Been a Black. Come off it.”
“I might have. If I’d had the choice. Better than this anyway.”
And the look on Remus’ face in the purple-grey dark had made Sirius falter before he said: “You don’t mean that.”
“You should have seen the look in his eyes.”
“I’ve seen it all before.”
“Pity?”
“Pity?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So are they.”
They don’t say another word that night, except when Sirius attempts to say ‘night and his voice grinds like the crackling of an LP.
When he leaves Hogwarts, he sorts himself out a place as soon as possible and doesn’t go home at Christmas. He and his father meet cordially when one or other of them is ‘in the area’ but they don’t talk much. He meets his mother once but the shocked look she gives when she sees his face-so much older now and with that fresh scar etched into his neck-makes him too cowardly to ever do so again. His excuses are flimsy but she’s not very persistent.