1970

Scene One

Supposedly he was asleep. He was supposed to be anyway. Or rather, that's what his parents thought. He was in his bed, with the covers up to his chin. His hands wrestled with the worn quilt that his mother's mother made years ago, which somehow landed in his room on top of his bed.

Remus squirmed as he turned on lie on his left side, turning his back to the closed door that was supposed to separate him from his parents' conversation. He went over the checklist in his mind again; his clothes were packed in his trunk, along with his books and other assorted knick-knacks from his childhood that were deemed too important to be left at closed his eyes tight, too tight to ever fall asleep, but he tried to block out the words that danced from his parents' hushed mouths through the gap under his dark green painted door.

"I can't believe it," he heard his mother whisper again. He could picture the scene quite vividly in his mind. Tall bookshelves created an enclave where actual walls didn't; the fireplace was surely on even though it had not yet begun to get cold. That was something his mother insisted on: the fireplace on regardless of the time of the day or the season. His father made fun of her, but he did it with the small smile and a wink that let Remus know he wasn't serious. His mother argued that it made any atmosphere better and created warmth in the soul that anyone could appreciate.

No other lights would be on in the reading room, Remus pictured vividly, hoping that it would aid him in getting himself to sleep. And even though that there were three armchairs squished around the fire and in front of the bookshelves, his mother would either be sitting on the arm of the chair his father sat on or on his lap. He tried not to think about the latter, but couldn't rule out the plausible possibility. He tried not to look at them when he was in there with them, he tried to distract himself or focus on whatever book he had, but he couldn't help it sometimes. It was in these quiet moments that Remus sometimes felt he saw his real parents and not what they became in front of other people, himself included.

Sometimes his father would hold his book with one hand and pretend that his wife wasn't sitting on his armchair. Remus still hadn't figured out why his father would pretend. How could anyone possibly read when someone was sitting on their lap? Sure he knew his father could concentrate on his work but no one could possibly concentrate that hard for that of a long time with someone sitting on their laps. Realistically it had to get uncomfortable after awhile. With one hand occupied holding a book that would no longer have its pages flipped, his father's other hand would pet his mother's light brown hair just like Remus would pet his cat.

Other times his father wouldn't pretend to read and just put the book down on the floor or on the other arm chair. Sometimes they were silent and only stared at the fire together and other times they would whisper. It didn't matter what they conversed about, the weather or about their jobs; they would always whisper. That's another thing Remus didn't understand. Why could they talk normally like they usually did instead of resorting to coveted whispering? Either way in each scenario, Remus would leave after awhile, unable to think of anything except watching his parents as he tried to work.

Remus turned to lie on his stomach and ducked his head underneath the quilt even though he wasn't cold. If his father had taught him a spell to block out their noise he would have tried to cast it. If their subject matter wasn't about him he wouldn't have cared if he could hear his parents talk into the night. With the bits of conversation Remus had head not once had they said his name but he knew it was about him, and it caused him to be even more anxious than he already was. Remus opened his eyes and let his eyes adjust to the darkness so that he could see the outlines of his trunk and other belongings packed in an order beside the door. Satisfied that they were still there, he closed his eyes again.

"I never thought this day would come," he heard his mother say to his father. She had said this numerous times since Remus received his acceptance letter. She said it numerous times even after she and his father went to have a meeting with Dumbledore. The adults had arranged the meeting after the headmaster of Hogwarts visited the Lupin home. And even though Remus had heard her say this phrase multiple times, his mother said it like it was the first time: as a whisper or a sigh, sometimes attached with a quick smile.

"I know, darling," his father murmured, surely petting her hair. "I dared not try to raise my hopes before his letter came. I made myself believe that he would not be able to go to any school and would be resigned to be home-schooled for his magical education." Out of his two parents Remus favoured his father's voice more. It was warm and deep and made him feel safe. The northern burr of a Scotsman rang though each of his syllables and made Remus convinced that all men should talk like his father. His mother's voice, while not shrill like some of the older ladies Remus had met, it didn't carry the same reassurance Remus had grown to expect from his father's cadence.

"Just think of all of the possibilities that will be opened for him because of this," his mother said in the same exhaled manner.

His father didn't speak for a moment; he was prone to do this. During these times when his father thought, and he did this often, his eyes narrowed together ever so slightly and was only noticed by Remus if he was looking hard for the change of facial expression. "Things unimagined," his father finally said.

His mother stayed silent and Remus began to think that they would go to bed. "We could try again."

"We've talked about this before Shannon," he said in a tone different than before. Remus's father said it in the same tone whenever the Ministry of Magic of the United Kingdom passed restricted decrees for 'special' citizens: his voice bathed in resignation of not being able to change any law that affected people curse with lycanthropy, vampirism, or whatever.

"Remus will be away during the school months now," this was the first time his mother had mentioned his name since their discussion began.

"Nothing is for certain," his father said in the same sad voice.

"What are you saying, John? That he won't be accepted by his peers or that his condition will be discovered?"

"I don't think that at all," he said in response to the first part of his wife's words. "But we never know what will happen."

"Why can't you believe that life will be better for us, for Remus now?"

"I do believe that. I believe that this is a step in the right direction for him. It's just hard for me to believe that the world will change in that short amount of time. I have faith in him. If nothing else I have faith in Remus to be the best he can be. But I cannot have that faith in other people."

His parents relapsed into a silence that grew into a murmuring of lost words that Remus couldn't make out. He flipped to his side again and thought about all that he had heard. He knew he wasn't supposed to be going to a school with other children, more importantly children that were normal and without painful 'conditions' (as his parents delicately referred to his monthly transformations). The bit about the new opportunities was old to Remus. That is what his parents had been telling him since the summer. And while he was appreciative, he was tired of hearing it whenever his parents got emotional about his leaving. He had caught on quickly whenever they were about to begin the speech: the eyes would grow soft and they would look strangely at him. Sometimes they would smile, and sometimes Remus felt like they weren't smiling at him, but rather themselves. But he didn't understand what his mother wanted to try again. But he knew it was somehow related to him being gone for nine months at school.

"I love you," his father said, his voice rising so that Remus could hear it again. Either his mother didn't reply or she still spoke at a volume where Remus couldn't hear it. "I'm going to check on Remus then I will join you." He heard his mother agree to this and became grateful that his back was to his door and tried to arrange his face so that he appeared to be sleeping like he should have been hours ago. He heard his door creak open and he could imagine the light spilling in from the reading room into his room.

"I never thought we would see this night come," his mother whispered from the doorway. "I didn't expect him to be leaving so soon, he's still so young," she sighed.

"He is the same age as when we left for school," his father whispered warmly. "But it doesn't seem like it. I remember feeling so old when I received my letter. Now I understand how young I really was." Remus heard his mother shuffle and kiss his father. "I'll be soon," he whispered to her before crossing the doorframe. The floorboards creaked as he paused to look at Remus's packed belongings. The creaking got louder as his father creeped closer to Remus's bed. Remus tried to keep his breathing slow and deep as his father took one of his large hands and brushed Remus's forehead, brushing his bangs from his forehead. He heard his father breath deeply before he leaned down to kiss his forehead. Remus tried not to laugh as his father's stubble tickled his skin. "Good night, Remus," his father whispered before lifting his face from Remus's and walking away.

Quickly Remus flipped to his back and leaned forward, "Dad?" he whispered quietly. He saw the outline of his father stop and turn around.

"Remus," his name rolled over his father's tongue in a way that it never did when his mother said his name. "You should be sleeping," he whispered as he sat on the edge of Remus's bed. "You've got quite the big day tomorrow," he wrapped his right arm over Remus's back, "though I suppose that's why you aren't asleep." Remus smiled from his father's correct assumption. "Is anything the matter? Or can you just not sleep?"

"I can't stop thinking," Remus admitted as he leaned into his father's body.

"Understandable for any boy in your situation," his father used his other hand to brush his son's hair into place. Remus tensed slightly from his words but his father didn't acknowledge it. "I remember before I left for Hogwarts," he continued as Remus relaxed against him, "my mother had to threaten to slip me a sleeping potion because I was so excited." Remus noted this fact in his mind, indexing it under the little known information about his paternal grandparents. Remus's father did not willingly speak about his mother and father often and Remus had never been in a room with either one of them alone for more than a handful of minutes. Ever since the death of Remus's paternal grandfather years ago, that amount had dwindled from minutes to seconds.

"Did you have to take it?" Remus asked slowly, tucking the top of his head under his father's chin.

His father laughed at the memory, "No, I don't believe so. But I am positive that I almost came close to having been forced to swallow a few drops of it."

Remus played with the sheet under the quilt for a moment. "It's just," he paused, "I've never been away from here."

"Ah," his father nodded his head, "are you frightened from that thought?"

Remus thought before answering; yes, he was scared of that, but that was nothing compared to the idea of transforming in a new place entirely completely away from his parents. "It's okay to be frightened. It is probably expected, I know I was and so was your mother before she left home. But would you like to know something?" Remus nodded his head against his father's chin, "I'm not frightened for you. And would you like to know why?" Again Remus nodded into his father's form. "I am not scared for you," he whispered, "because I know that you will be just fine along with everyone else. Tomorrow by this time you will belong to a house of Hogwarts and thus belong to a legacy that spans centuries. No one will know you, and while that may seem daunting, that opportunity gives you a chance to start over in a way that was hard to do before." Remus closed his eyes as his father stroked his brunette hair, breathing in his father's familiar scent. "In fact, I am excited for you. This is the start to your next seven years, and even if that sounds like a long time for you, it goes by much quicker than what you would imagine." He continued to stroke Remus's hair for a short time longer, "do you think you can sleep now?"

Remus fluttered his eyes open and nodded, his head suddenly too heavy to think of words to speak. Remus's father gently took hold of Remus and set him back down in his bed, bringing the sheet and worn quilt up to his chin, just the way Remus preferred. He leaned down once more and kissed Remus on the forehead, whispering an "I love you," instead of a good night. His father stood up and looked down at Remus, catching his son's gaze, before bringing the covers closer to Remus's body. With that Remus allowed his eyes to fall as the dark coloured floorboards creaked giving the sign of his father's departure.