Chapter Text
Remus would like to think that his rock bottom was when Greyback hopped into his room and took a chunk out of him in a fit of revenge. He believes that it’s the worst thing in his life, a feat considering his young age, to be condemned to lycanthropy and walk on eggshells for his entire life. He’s proven wrong when he’s sat in a plastic chair that digs against his back a couple of weeks out from Hogwarts. He wonders how the dreams of summer break before his 5th year, before the mess of OWLs plagues him, had been thoroughly cast aside so quickly.
Maybe he should’ve taken the signs seriously. He shouldn’t have dismissed the growing bags under his mother’s eyes and her rising earlier than normal, the portions of her meal halved with fewer snacks in between. There are a lot of ‘maybes ‘and ‘what-ifs’ swimming around in his brain as his feet tap against the sparkling white floor of the hospital.
A part of him wishes that he didn’t need to bear witness to the current situation. He had already missed months of it, his mother suffering as he blissfully enjoyed the wonders of Hogwarts, sneaking into alcoves and trading kisses with Ravenclaws. When Hope started wheezing halfway through his ramble about Charms, an odd rattling in her chest as she doubled over, Remus had begun to wonder if life held a vendetta against him. He remembers sliding over a glass of water before jumping out of the room with shaking hands to ring for an ambulance. He’s swept up in a hurricane, unlocking the door for paramedics to march in and taking his mother’s hand in his as the vehicle rumbles forward to the nearest hospital.
His father finds him in the waiting room, picking apart a hangnail and chewing his lip. Remus has no idea how he got there, Lyall’s ministry robes hanging off his arm as he stiffly lowers himself into the chair next to him.
She’s discharged two days later, alongside an army of medication and appointments that leave Lyall grumbling. He drags them to Saint Mungo’s right after, only to be met with healers shaking their heads and an argument bursting at its seams.
Hope had lasted ten minutes before wrapping her hand around his forearm, requesting that they return home. It was the first time Remus watched the fight in his father’s eyes dissipate almost immediately.
The days after were an awkward, bumbling mess. One hospital trip was all it took to loosen the knot that kept his family together. Somehow, in a span of days, his family had fully transformed into a mishmash of a puzzle set with pieces slightly too big to fit within its confines. With his father leaving earlier in the day and returning from the ministry well past the set sun, Remus took it upon himself to ferry his mother to her appointments. Which is definitely a generous statement considering his age, disability, and lack of a driver’s license. He’s more of a companion, but the semantics don’t matter. So if you’re wondering how he’s spending his holidays, one would find Remus John Lupin curled uncomfortably in a chair in the hospital, scribbling mindlessly into one of his notebooks.
The door to his left squeaks open, and he flips his book shut with practiced ease, stuffing it into his bag just as his mother walks out brandishing her brand-new aid.
“Fy machgen, we match,” Hope’s eyes twinkle as she holds up her cane. He musters up a smile, wobbling to his feet and gripping his own walking aid. He’d specifically chosen his ortho-cane over the forearm crutches for this moment.
“Almost,” he teases, “Yours is a tad plain, I’m afraid.”
“When your friends come over, I’m sure it’ll look better than yours!”
He lets himself laugh, falling into easy banter. He ignores the twinge in his chest later that evening when his father gets his first look at his mother’s cane, wrapping his hand over hers as they whisper lightly while Remus tries to bury himself in his notebook and drown out his beating heart with the scratches of his pen.
He finds solace the next day, quickly sending a reply off to his friends at breakfast, where his father is once again notably absent from, before speeding out the door with his messenger bag stuffed with the essentials- his notebook, pens, bottle of water, half-smashed sandwiches and a little Tupperware of cucumber slices Hope slips in while Remus still has a piece of toast hanging out of his mouth while packing. She laughs, batting him away after he presses a kiss on her cheek and tumbles out the door.
The breeze settles around him, and the warmth wraps comfortably wrapped around him. He makes the hike towards the little lake just past town, the grass rubbing against his jeans adding to the stains on the cuff. He finds his large and trusty tree, huffing as he settles at its base in between the roots curved above ground. The water gleams, calling for him, but he ducks his head and gets lost in his notebook, crafting and shaping his words.
Time slips away easily, the notebook filling with sketches of the ducks paddling away when his thought escapes him, the sandwiches and cucumbers dwindling steadily. He lets himself straighten and walk the edge of the lake to stretch his legs and prevent the ache he foresees building up between his joints. Now that he’s closer, he spots a new addition to the group of ducks lazily trailing the surface. They waddle up to him on land, the ducklings stumbling and quacking noisily. He laughs, tearing up the last of the cucumber slices in his hand and sprinkling them on the ground for the fiends.
He makes it a point to stop by town once his hand stills long enough and breath comes out evenly, feeling less like the wolf within him is threatening to breach and wreak havoc. Sometimes, when he’s alone and curled under blankets in his room at home or up in the astronomy tower staring wistfully up at the moon, he admits his jealousy that the creature he turns to had no obligations to rein itself in and live in anxiety and expectations.
Anyways, he justifies to himself that the stop in town is needed to surprise his mother with a sweet treat. It’s what he’d tell his father if he decided to speak to Remus for the first time in weeks.
“Look who’s back!” calls out a familiar voice just as Remus exchanges the cash in his hand for the baked goods filled with chocolatey goodness. He turns around to find his friend Finley strutting towards him with his hands in his pockets. Remus simply rolls his eyes, making a show of walking away from the bakery. Finley falls into step next to him, prattling about his own school term till they turn into an alleyway.
Remus turns carefully, wary of the treats, before his lips are captured in a soft kiss.
“Hey,” he breathes out, closing the distance once more before they pull apart.
“Those for your mother?” Finley asks, a cheeky smile plastered on his face. “Tell her I wish her well.”
His face must have done something complicated because his friends smile drops instantaneously. All Remus can muster up is a soft, “She’s ill, but I’ll pass the message along.”
Finley offers his condolences and the batting of his piercing blue eyes with his messy hair tousling slightly as he dips his head, sparks a little selfishness and mischief in Remus’ chest.
“Meet me here tomorrow at noon? Take my mind off it?” he shifts his weight, pushing slightly into the other’s space as he anticipates the answer. Finley licks his lips, eyes darting to Remus’ own before nodding slightly. Remus laughs, indulges in a kiss goodbye before he flees home.
He does his best to wipe his lips and get himself under control by the time he presents his mother with uncrushed baked goods. It works once more, Hope paying no mind and accepting the gift with a kiss on his cheek. His father appears just as the tables sat, thick magic still shrouding him, ingrained into his robes. Remus ducks his head and eats in silence, letting his parents fulfil the conversation quota. The tentative peace is broken by James’ owl soaring in through the window.
“The Potter’s are inviting us over for a family dinner party,” he doesn’t miss Lyall stiffening at the mention of ‘family’. “They’re wondering if Friday would work.”
“What for?” Lyall grits out, spooning more beans onto his plate.
“Friday would work wonderfully. Tell them we send our love,” Hope beams, making to stand. Remus quickly rises, placing a hand on her shoulder to stop her, and goes to tear a page out of the notepad stuck on the fridge. Hope sneaks the bird a couple pieces of bacon before it’s sent on its way. Lyall huffs, drains his mug, and leaves presumably to his study. Hope gives Remus a small smile and a kiss on his cheek before she follows him.
Remus sighs and clears the table. The door to the study clicks shut as he strides up the stairs to his room, putting on a record to drown out the muffled voices in the distance. He lets himself get lost in the words debating the properties of featherweight charms, tidying away the last of his assignments.
Friday comes quickly, Remus catching glimpses of his father far in between. He spends the week sneaking off into town to snog Finley and trade stories, letting him peek into his journal to correct paragraphs of his messy writing. It’ll be a perfect replica of the previous summer if not for fretting over his mother’s medications and the appointment set mid-week.
His mother spends Friday afternoon baking and tending to the garden while Remus indulges in traversing town and running through fields to get back to his little lake. Finley’s not around, gone for the weekend, attending mysterious family things they don’t talk about despite their three years of friendship. Who knew sneaking out one day would lead to losing his first kiss to the new neighbor, kickstarting a friendship built on literature and lake visits, trading with kisses, and avoiding discussion about their dysfunctional families. Remus had once wondered, when the sun was blaring down at them as he stared at a shirtless Fin wading in the water, freckles speckled on their skin, if they’d ever be more than platonic. But he quickly concludes that he could never, and the years of sneaking away as they both write under the big oak trees had led to a complicated relationship between the two- something in between that had no strings attached.
By the time he gets home, boots caked in mud and notebook another couple pages full, the only noise in their home is Hope’s humming as she bustles about in the kitchen. It brings a smile to his face as he toes his shoes off, wobbling as his joints creak with each step he takes and changes into something less full of leaves and grime.
“Where’s Da?” Remus ambles into the kitchen with a fond smile upon seeing his mother packing away the shortbread into tins. The door to the study remains ajar, void of the hulking figure of his father.
“Your father will pop by after work.”
It shouldn’t take him by surprise, and he’s thankful his mother’s back is turned towards him so she couldn’t see the split second his smile faltered. He sighs, casting a glance towards the crutch now wrapped around his elbow. Lyall wouldn’t be happy to see him bringing it out, but it was hardly Remus’ fault on multiple accounts. At least he’d be matching in some way with his mother or serve as some sort of punchline by James and Sirius once they notice the aids.
He's proven right when they pop through the floo, Hope shuffling away for Remus to awkwardly duck through. He hopes his growth spurts are over. Height is advantageous till you reach the point of knocking into everything.
“Woah! Sick cane, Mrs Lupin!” Sirius yells out, jumping over the banister to reach them.
Effie yells at him in the distance, James’ laughter growing louder as he skids into the room.
“The Lupins are setting a trend! A secret club! How could we join thee, oh Mrs Lupin?” James sings out, reaching forward to kiss Hope’s empty hand, tin of shortbread safely tucked in the bag hanging from her shoulder. She laughs, swatting the boy away. James and Sirius immediately swarm her, chattering a mile a minute about everything and nothing under the sun, teasingly making for the bag as they walk. His heart flutters dangerously at how easily they accepted his mother’s mysteriously appearing walking aid.
He slowly follows behind as they make their way to the sitting room. He supposes it’s a testament to how much his knee is weighing him down, considering by the time he’d arrived, Hope’s settled into an armchair deep in conversation over Quidditch with his friends. Spending the whole week running to town, deciding to climb a tree twice and sitting on the grass too long has taken its toll. He’d make a note and say he’d learn his lesson about overestimating his capabilities and taking his good days for granted but he truly never does.
Effie and Fleamont light up when they spot him in the doorway. Effie practically jumps up, calling his name and Remus ducks down a little for her to kiss his cheek. He’s soon pulled into a careful hug by Fleamont, the two leading him into a chair and starting their own conversation about gardens and books. Somewhere in between the door chimes and Peter bumbles in with apologies and a basket of fresh bread that Effie gratefully sets next to Hope’s tin, running her hand through his sandy curls as she passes.
The conversations eventually combine, Fleamont mentioning grades and Prefects, in which Hope coos that Remus was a shoe-in for the role. It’s met with resounding agreement, his friends nodding their heads enthusiastically before it quickly ascends into them spouting random truths to back up Hope.
The floo echoes as Peter concludes his ‘Remus once saved a family of foxes from homelessness’ spiel. His mother giggles but there’s only one person who’s yet to arrive so he’s sent to greet his father and lead the way like a good, respectable son.
His smile automatically drops as he turns the corner. He’s generously met with his father’s scowl once he enters the room.
“Why did you have to bring that?” he asks, eyes flitting down to Remus’ crutch as if noticing it for the first time.
“My knee’s sore. And I couldn’t just magic it better.” Lyall harrumphs, flicking his wand before tucking it safely away. He gives Remus a once over, pats him on the shoulder and heads off towards where Hope’s laughter sings out from.
Remus grimaces, the tension in his knee replaced by the uncomfortable and near mechanical feeling of the spell attempting to hold his weight up. By the time he’s adjusted to the clunky thing, Lyall’s well and truly by Hope’s side. He can only sigh, making his way back into the empty living room and snakes his arm out of the brace to lean the aid against the mantle.
“Don’t you need that?” Sirius pipes from behind him. Remus must look ridiculous, hands splayed slightly in front of him as he wearily eyes the crutch, hoping it doesn’t tip over.
“Da casted the brace charm. Remind me to grab that before we head home,” he spins on his heel, stumbling slightly as he corrects his center of mass. He pretends not to notice Sirius’ arms twitch instinctively by his side. Instead, he focuses on how his lips are pressed into a thin line and the furrow of his brows.
“Come on then, I’ve not had any of those rolls you promised me.”
It works, partially. Sirius’ mouth lifts into a small grin, Remus letting him pull him forward, and they both make their way to the dining room with Sirius’ arm wrapped around Remus’. Sirius fills the silence, both ignoring the warming of their cheeks and the comfort of their arms pressed together.
By the time they wrap dinner up, Hope’s cane is littered with scribbles and a mish-mash of stickers. She proudly brandishes it to Remus and Lyall, both answering with tight smiles. His friends and the Potters bid them farewell, none the wiser of the storm brewing in the Lupin household. But Sirius does make a show of presenting Remus his crutch before they floo, much to Lyall’s chagrin.