Written for the 'One Character Competition' by Cheeky Slytherin Lass on the HPFF.

This is my entry for Round Three.

Prompt: Write at least 100 words for your character as a child, (ages 3-10), using at least three of the given prompts. Out of the provided prompts, I chose #4 Simple, #7 Pretend, and #12 Book. In this fic, Remus is age 10.

Word Count for the Drabble Itself: 392 Words

Author's Note: I have been giving Remus so much angst and heartache for this competition and for my own personal stories. So, I decided that I would give him a bit of a break and allow him to have a bit of a carefree childhood. For the sake of this story, I will set him being bitten by Fenrir sometime after this, just so he can be 10 years old without being a werewolf quite yet. I know he was younger when you look at canon, but it needed to be this way for the story. Enjoy!

God Bless~Sarah

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, any of the characters, or the setting. The prompts and inspiration for this story were provided by Cheeky Slytherin Lass.

Remus balanced the books cautiously in his arms as he walked up the stairs. Their house was so huge now that they had moved from the cottage. It was difficult for him to meander through it with so many books in hand without tipping something over. Just the other day he had ruined his mother's favorite vase and been put in a corner for hours. His punishment would have been up in twenty minutes had he not been spending the whole time crying. Remus felt poorly when he mistreated either of his parents, even if it was on accident. He knew that breaking his mummy's favorite vase hurt her, and he ached for bringing her any pain even though it hadn't been on purpose. Normally, when he was in trouble, he would pretend he wasn't. It was so hard for him to misbehave; he was always a good child. When he did accidently do wrong, though, he felt so poorly inside that the only way to stop the ache was to pretend it hadn't happened and live in a simpler life, buried in his books.

Today, though, Remus was not in trouble. Today, he was merely having a feel around the home, treading the deep waters and figuring out places he could run away to read and do homework. Remus enjoyed the solitude of a slow and methodic life. He enjoyed repetition and organization. He was an odd, but respectful child. He grew on anyone who came near him, flashing them a large, toothy grin and they would be in love with the little boy. He was always loving, always studious, and a bit awkward. He was loved, though; accepted. He had always been cherished. With a gentle smile, Remus peered out the kitchen's back door. Before him was a wide-stretch of open land and a small area that swelled into the ground just before the lake. His grin extending, Remus set his books down by the door, grabbed his favorite, and ran for the small trenched area. When he stood before it, he glanced around him before sliding into it and curling up amongst the grass. Nestled there with his book, he breathed in the fresh air and let it out slowly before cracking open the book to chapter one. Oh yes, the simpler life was the only life for him.