An: Orriginaly written for the August RtChallange ficathon on live journal, and the first of a series of my old stories (not related to one another) that I will archive in an attempt to use this account more. Reviews are welcome, encouraged, and rewarded with special home made chocolate chip cookies!
The Sins of the Father
It rained the night his Father left. Remus remembered vividly the water droplets hitting the windows of their home in a distinct, frightening rhythm which mingled with the sound of thunder and quick bursts of lightening. He remembered leaving his room intending to pad across the hall in search of his parents' comfort from the storm outside.
He reached the outer hall to find his Father, awake, fully dressed, and carrying a packed suitcase. A flash of lightening filled the room; Remus remembered emitting a soft squeak as his Father, startled, turned to look at him.
He remembered very well the look on his Father's face that last night. It was a look that sat between exasperation and adoration. He imagined that he wore it now as he looked down at his wife's sleeping form.
His wand had been stored securely in his robes; unlike his Father, Remus would need no suitcase, no belongings. Every earthly possession would remain in the small flat above her parent's home.
All that was left was to walk out the door. To leave her; to try to repair the damage he had done to her.
He was rooted to the spot. For some unknown reason he could not tear his eyes away. Her natural chestnut hair spilled out onto the pillow case, her pink lips were pursed softly together, she shifted slightly in her sleep.
He wondered, vaguely, if it had been this difficult for his father. He had a sudden image of his tall, strong Father standing over his Mother's bed side as tears filled his eyes.
He would not cry of course. He had promised himself that. He was not entirely sure he was capable of tears any longer. Emotion, when it did show itself now, came in short bursts of anger, or soft half spoken, half whispered confessions. The tears that seemed manifest in everyone else around him refused to enter his eyes any longer. He did not have time to ponder the reasons why.
He had to leave. He knew that. If he stayed much longer he would never find the courage to step away; to open the door and walk out as his Father had done. He took one step back from the bed, one step towards the door. She shifted.
"Remus?" He froze.
He had dreaded this conversation. He had made his Father's mistake, thinking that leaving in the dead of night would avoid awkward questions.
"Remus, what're you doing up?"
"Daddy, where are you going?"
"I couldn't sleep. Thought I'd go down and make some tea."
"Go back to bed, Remus. I'll see you in the morning"
"Sure everything's all right?"
"How'll you see me in the morning if your bag is all packed?"
"Everything's fine Dora."
"Son, listen I…I have to go away for a while. Not forever, just…I want you and Mummy to be safe. You can understand that can't you?
"Just come back to bed soon all right?
Remus remembered nodding even though he did not understand at all. How could he and Mummy be safe without Daddy? Daddy made them safe.
"I will. I promise." He winced at the lie.
"I love you, Remus. Remember that all right? No matter what, I love you. Tell Mummy too."
"All right." She yawned. "Good night, Remus."
"I will, Daddy"
"Dora?"
Daddy reached out and squeezed Remus' shoulder. "That's my big boy. I'll see you soon okay?"
"Yes?"
Remus nodded.
"I love you." He reached out to stroke her cheek with the back of his hand.
His Father gave him one last appraising look before opening the door and letting the cold rain into the house.
She smiled and closed her eyes. "Love you too."
He could feel the muscles in his jaw tremble as he took two more steps backward, never lifting his gaze from her until he felt his back collide with the door knob. If he did not leave now…
He had spent a great deal of his life hating his Father. As he turned the door knob to leave their small room, he wondered if Dora would refuse to speak his name to their child, just as his Mother never allowed his Father to be mentioned.
After that night, when morning came, when she realized what his Father had done…she cried so often that it became commonplace.
Remus imagined Nymphadora crying for him in the same manner and forced back a shudder as he walked out the doorway and down the lane. It was strange that after years of hating, of vowing vengeance, of denying any connection, he finally understood.
It was not raining that night as he turned from the house, though Remus swore he could see a lighting bolt flash across the cloudless sky.
