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26 August 2008 @ 10:14 pm
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.”




“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.

slove_1776 on August 27th, 2008 07:09 pm (UTC)
I love this. It must have been tough to see your son go through that, and this was an interesting way of looking at it. I've always pictured his father leaving, but the mother one reminds me of something. I can't remember what, but it's just the image it brought to mind. And Sirius, loved it!
i r i s: Roadijustwishiwere on August 27th, 2008 09:20 pm (UTC)
Thank you!♥ I don't think many families could survive those circumstances. In some ways, it seems more likely that his mother would've ended up looking after him but I guess I figured it might be more emotionally difficult for his mother (although that's sort of stereotypical). Plus, if I'm honest, I was kind of influenced by the song Romulus by Sufjan Stevens. Thanks for the lovely comment.
Sheeshagoodbyesheesha on August 27th, 2008 11:26 pm (UTC)
So, apparently the PS3 dislikes hotmail. This means I will have to go to the bibliotheque to do email shit, which is a problem since oh, hey, I can barely walk. But um, LJ is fine. Hm. No paragraphs. I started writing your letter, but then Kit came over. We bought bitchin’ stuff for Brian’s cake. Wow, I am so not a gamer. My thumbs are sore already. Little else to say. I miss you more than I should admit. <3
i r i s: Jesse Laceyijustwishiwere on August 27th, 2008 11:40 pm (UTC)
Hey beautiful Sheesha.

Having to go to the bibliotheque to check your emails sucks. But why can you barely walk? D:

I so wish I could share in the love of your Brian cake making. Maybe I will make cake for his birthday and just not tell anyone what it's for. Either that or make cupcakes and ice them so they spell his name. Then jumble them up and pretend it's the alphabet or something. I haven't started the fic yet since the other thing I had to write is eating all my time and energy.

I hope your poor thumbs don't suffer too much. I miss you also, I have no reason to use MSN without you. ):
Sheeshagoodbyesheesha on August 28th, 2008 04:29 pm (UTC)
Did I seriously not tell you about that?! I wore shoes that were too small, and they cut the back of my ankles open. Then they got super infected. And uh, yes, very little walking to be done.

The colour is all screwy on the library computer, and your avatar looks really cool.

I think I have decided on a white vanilla cake (because it's my favourite) with coconut. Blue frosting? I don't know. Silly Brian and his sexy.
Have we figured out exactly which day his birthday is yet?
i r i s: adam lazzaraijustwishiwere on August 28th, 2008 04:34 pm (UTC)
You told me about the too small shoes but not about the super infectedness. Wear flip flops or something? (My ear is super infected too, I had an earring stuck in it for ages and only just managed to get it out.)

And that's weird. Library computers are often a bit messed up though.

I made cake today. Sadly, it's for my friend who's going away for a year and not Biran though. ):
& everywhere seems to think it's the 31st, so I guess it must be.

Also, how dare you be off topic in my fic journal? O:
(Anonymous) on August 29th, 2008 05:40 pm (UTC)
I've been wearing boots. Not necessarily the most logical choice, but I will die without heels. This is a fact.

Oh, specifically at this library. Plus, all the computers are only 15 minute express except for two. It's rather unfortunate.

I'm pretty stoked for cake baking. Me and Kit are also making Shamrock Shakes today, because I haven't had one in years and they're freaking delicious. I don't care if it isn't close to St. Patrick's Day. I'm a rebel; I do what I want. Or something.

It's my brother's birthday. I wanted to buy him LiteBrite, but I was like, two dollars short. I'm kind of pissed. LiteBrite is amazing.

I'm usually off-topic in your fic journal. I just pretend to be on topic at first.
i r i s: yet but earkissingijustwishiwere on August 29th, 2008 11:33 pm (UTC)
Die, eh? I do not believe it! Liees, I say.

And that would be really frustrating. That library sucks.

I've never had a Shamrock Shake?! But festive food should definitely not be limited to its traditional place. Nor should dressing up be limited to costume parties. :3

And that sucks. I'd never heard of LiteBrite but now that I've looked it up I'm thoroughly upset that both your brother and I have been deprived of this wonderful thing. (Why did I not know of it, Sheesha?)

& I know but you should at least pretend. It's good manners.

I haven't started Brian's fic yet. The other thing I wrote ended up a 4000 word monster which threatened to eat me alive. But it's done now. And tomorrow will be the day of writing birthday fic.
Sheeshagoodbyesheesha on August 30th, 2008 01:52 am (UTC)
Well, heels are safe. They have yet to fail me.

The library is better than nothing. PS3 dictionary thinks I wanted liberal instead of library. Seems like a strange assumption.

Shamrock shakes are freaking sweet. Kit hasn't called yet, though. Wow, I use way fewer commas than I realised.

No LiteBrite or Shamrock shakes? Iris needs to get out more.

I’m sure Brian will be very happy with his fic.