Rating of PG.
I do not own the characters, JKR does. I simply borrow them.
That's exactly the definition of a father's love. Boundless.
Boundless.
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He seemed in a good enough mood.
Humming to himself as he was and taking a long sip of orange juice.
Remus Lupin watched him from the corner of his eye and pushed his scrambled eggs around with the stainless steel fork. When he shifted, he could feel the letter in his pocket switching positions as well.
The Registry bills were high, he knew that. What he also knew was that he had thirty-eight Galleons tucked away for safe keeping. Money that he had earned through various odd jobs that a thirteen-year-old could complete around the neighborhood.
The bill was thirty-five Galleons. Thirty-five Galleons to pay for a mandatory examination from the Ministry of Magic once every month to make sure all proper procedures were being followed.
It was his entire life's savings. The only money of his own; the only money that he had to his name. But it was his fault that his father even had to pay the damn fee in the first place.
He watched his father nervously and waited until his plate was clear before pushing his own untouched one aside and setting the official looking letter in the center of the table. For a moment, John Lupin seemed unsure, then his hand made to reach for the slightly crumpled letter with its bent corners. Remus was faster.
John sighed and held out his hand. "Remus, let me see it, please."
Remus shook his head, folded the letter in half again and tucked it back into his pocket.
"You did see it," Remus started quietly. He paused. "I'm paying it."
"We've already gone over this," John sighed in a tone that heavily suggested that they had gone over this exact same conversation every month when the letter came .
"Yes, we have. But I have the money now. I can pay—"
"I don't care if you do or not. I will—"
"No—"
"Remus—"
"No," Remus said firmly.
A muted word and the letter flew into John's awaiting hand. Remus tried to take it back, but John held it above his head, out of Remus' reach.
"Dammit, John, let me pay the damn—"
"Remus John."
"Don't Remus John me!" The tears on his upset face looked out of place. "I'm capable—"
"And no one said that you weren't," he huffed and slammed the glass plates hard into the sink.
"Just let me—"
"No," he said sternly, rinsing his hands under the scalding water.
Remus fell silent and watched, leaning in the doorway that connected kitchen to living room. John cleared the rest of the table a little more forcefully than normal. When he finished, he poured a tall glass of whiskey and sat down, hands shaking slightly as he took a long gulp.
"You'd be better off," Remus muttered, standing in front of the sink and drying off the dripping dishes. John didn't answer and took another sip. He let his eyes finish scanning the letter before he spoke again.
"Better off what?"
Remus looked at his reflection in the plate and traced a scar that ran the full length of his face.
"Better off if you'd just said yes." He set the plate down and picked up another, not allowing his gaze to wander.
"Said yes to what?"
Two frying pans and a glass were already dried. Remus picked up the second glass and looked intently at the last droplets of clear water in the bottom. He did not dry it.
"You should have let them put me down. Then you wouldn't have to go through this...Any of it."
"Don't," John hissed, tears laden in his voice.
"Or if I'd have just died." Remus spoke with an emotionless voice, his back to his father, and to the drops of water slowly sliding off the curved surface of the glass.
"Remus."
"You wouldn't have to put up with me...Wouldn't have this burden." He paused and traced a water trail with his finger.
John was across the room in five swift strides, whiskey and Registry letter forgotten on the table. Remus turned his head to look at his father as he heard the fast approaching footsteps. He was met with a sharp slap to the face.
John's hand connected hard with his son's face. The echo of skin on skin rung throughout the kitchen. The glass Remus was holding fell to the floor and shattered into a million little pieces.
Slowly, he brought a hand up to the side of his face. A burning sensation was blossoming under his slim, pianist fingers. Before Remus could stop himself, there were tears running down the side of his nose and cheek. His father had never hit him before nor had he ever threatened it before. It was as much a mental blow as a physical one.
Their eyes locked and John pulled his son tight against him.
"Don't you dare say that. Never say that," John whispered roughly into Remus' ear, his hands tangling into his son's hair. "Do you understand me?"
John pulled back slightly and looked his son in the eye. He didn't wait for an answer. "I love you so much, you do know that, don't you? So much Remus.
"That was the worst day of my life," John whispered, bringing their foreheads together. "I was so afraid...I didn't know if you would..."
He didn't finish his sentence.
"I—"
"Do you understand me?" John hissed, cutting his son off. "I don't ever want to hear you say that again. Crystal?"
"Dad—"
"Remus. Crystal?"
"Yeah."
John hugged him tightly, disentangled himself from Remus, and cleared the broken glass with a flick of his wand and a muttered word.
"I still wanna pay that bill," Remus muttered, picking up the faded green dish rag.
"Well, that's just too bad, isn't it?"
He kissed his son on the forehead and left the kitchen, Registry letter and whiskey in hand.
–