Even at eleven Remus looked weary beyond his years. He carried more worry on his thin shoulders at just this young age than a lot of people ever did in their lifetimes. And more scars too, scars that adorned his arms, hands and legs, just visible through his tattered clothing. Looking around him he knew that he would be an outcast, even here, surrounded by people of his own age, people from all walks of life, muggleborns, half-bloods, purebloods, orphans, he was almost certain there were plenty of all of those. But none like him. That much Remus was absolutely sure, he would never meet someone who had the same problem as him. No one had ever spelled it out to him, but he didn't need it, years of being surreptitiously stared at had conditioned his eyes to notice the slightest lie or hint of distain, so much so that the owner of the look might not have even recognised they were feeling it.
Surrounded by people he knew would never accept him if they knew the truth Remus pulled his ragged jacket around him, wearing it as a barrier from the outside world, the stares and hatred he knew he would be subjected to if they knew the truth about him. Even the late summer sun which was threating to sunburn the t-shirt clad pupils around him wouldn't force him to relinquish his fabric shield.
"Are you sure about this?" His mother said lowly to his father, both of his parents looking equally as ragged and tired as Remus himself, but minus the scars and bruising.
His father didn't even look at his son as he replied, it was more than habit for him now, he couldn't remember the last time he had looked his offspring in the face. It wasn't hatred that made him avert his eyes, but shame. Shame that he had plunged his son into a lifetime of prejudice and suffering. There had been a time when he could stomach to look at his son, but that was before they had been forced to accept that there was nothing they could do but watch their child tear himself to pieces every month, listening to his tortured howls and screams of agony at every transition, living their lives ruled by the power of the moon.
"There is nothing more we can do for him. This is the kindest we can be; let him have a life like any normal boy." John Lupin's voice cracked over his last two words, the guilt that Remus would never just be a "normal boy" followed him everywhere.
Unlike her husband, Mary's concerns were not with her son. "But the other children... the parents... is it safe?"
"Dumbledore says it is. They know the risks Mary, if they didn't feel they were capable they would have said no from the off-"
"He hasn't seen him. Christ John, what if he-"
Remus couldn't stand to hear his mother finish her sentence. Years of forcing himself awake to eavesdrop on his parents hushed night time conversations about him had conditioned his ears and tuned them into picking up his parents voices. "I'd best be off now. I'll send an owl every month as I promised."
The boy gave his mother a stiff hug, her unfinished fear still swimming around his head, before turning to his father, awkward. He didn't know how to act, goodbyes were supposed to be emotional, teary, and heartbreaking, but here was a man who hadn't looked at him for the best part of two years. He settled for formality, "Goodbye Father." And considered extending a hand but thought better of it.
The whistle blew and with one last look back at his parents Remus lifted his battered grey trunk in front of him and stepped off the platform into one of the carriages. He walked head down, along the carriages, hoping to find an empty one that he could hide in the corner and stare out of the window in. Eventually he found one and slid the door tightly behind him, and contemplated lifting his trunk up onto the rack above his head. He decided better than to make a fool of himself and tucked it away as best he could on the floor and tucking himself tightly into the corner as the train gave another impatient hoot. Remus squinted out of the window and saw that the clock had just ticked over onto eleven o'clock and at that moment the train started to pull away with a slow chugging.
"R-Remus!" There was a shout from outside, calling his name in a voice that was familiar, but rarely directed at him. With a start he flew to the window, a strange emotion filling his chest; something between hope, disbelief and nerves. "Goodbye... son." His father raised a hand, and caught his eyes for the first time in years, and Remus saw the glistening sheen of tears over them. Tears caught in Remus' own throat as he smiled back, muscles unsure of the expression.