Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition - round 11 - Write about growing old on a winter day(s) OR youthfulness on a spring night(s)
Team - Kenmare Kestrels
Position - Beater 2
Betas - Angela, Ziv, Kat, Cel
On his last night of youth, Remus felt the cold before he felt the bite.
The strong winter breeze blowing through his window woke him up and he vaguely wondered why it was so cold in his room - he had specifically closed his window to shut out the breeze and to make sure any possible snow wouldn't get on his bed. He was about to sit up and close his window again, when someone - something? - leapt onto him, bit his shoulder, and pain erupted over his entire body, making it feel like his entire body was on fire. He screamed, the pain too much for him to bear. There was blood pouring out of his shoulder where the thing bit him. Besides the physical pain, his brain was also hurting, something within him changing.
As his parents rushed into his room, he saw only red.
Remus just wanted his father to look at him.
His parents hugged him, told him that they loved him, tried to help him through the massive amount of pain he was in, and while his mother seemed genuine, he was pretty sure his father was just putting on an act.
His father averted his eyes whenever Remus tried to catch them. His father hated him and he knew the truth - it was just like his father said: he was a monster.
His father didn't tell him to his face, of course not - he wasn't that blunt - but he had heard his father speaking, nearly a week before.
He should've been in bed that night, but he knew that his father was holding a meeting in their living room and he was curious. So, he snuck down and saw his father speaking in front of a group of people, telling them about the worst type of monster: werewolves.
And then he had gotten bitten by one, on that cold winter night and of course - "No, you're not a monster." "We still love you." "You're still our little boy." - but he had heard his father the week prior to him being bitten. Remus knew that he was a monster. He wasn't their little boy anymore, because he had no room to be little. He needed to grow up, fast - no little kids were werewolves.
"I'm ready to go home," he told his parents matter-of-factly when they came to visit him. He tried not to wince from the pain in his shoulder as he shifted to see them better.
"No, honey, I don't think you are. The healer said you need to stay here," his mother said, her entire face frowning, not just her mouth. She walked over and bent down so that their heads were level. His father mimicked her movements on the other side of him.
"Remus, it's very complicated, I don't think you'll understand, you're too young…" his father seemed melancholy, and he was looking at his mother, not at him. "We need to figure out what to -" His father paused, but Remus guessed what he was going to say. We need to figure out what to do with you.
"I want to know what you're doing," he demanded, pouting at his parents, his lower lip sticking out and his brows furrowing. "It has to do with me, right? Because I'm - because I'm a monster," he said with a whisper. It was the first time he had voiced his thoughts to his parents. "I'm not too young," he added as his parent's faces displayed shock. "I have to know what's going on if I'm going to deal with this forever."
The three of them were silent - Remus finished with what he wanted to say, and his parents seemed to not know what to say.
"You're not a monster," his dad said after a moment, breaking the silence. He still wouldn't meet Remus' eyes.
"Yes, I am," he said quietly. He felt heavy, as if there was a huge weight put on him. "I heard you say it yourself."
"What do you mean?" his father demanded, straightening up and sounding harsh. "What do you mean 'I heard you say it yourself'?"
"I heard you at that meeting that you had. You were talking about how werewolves are monsters. If werewolves are monsters, then I'm a monster."
His parents looked at each other, having a silent conversation. The room was silent again, for longer than before. The silence stretched on like a slingshot about to launch.
"Remus…" his father finally said tentatively, squatting down next to him again.
"I know what you're going to say," he said, staring his father down. "You didn't mean it about me. I'm different. But you still said I was a monster."
When his father didn't respond, Remus rolled over and closed his eyes hard, trying not to cry and feigning sleep.
A few hours later, Remus was still awake. His shoulder was throbbing like crazy and he just couldn't fall asleep.
Two people were in his room - his parents. He knew their voices.
"I'm worried about him, Lyall," his mother was whispering.
"I know, but I don't know what to do." The voice was definitely his father's. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have said any of those things, especially not while Remus could hear."
"But he did hear," his mother said, sighing. "And now… he thinks he's a monster because of you."
"I know."
Remus could imagine his father's typical worried face - biting his lip, quirking his brow.
"He's too young to take on all of this," his mother said, sounding sad. "And he knows it - he'll try to grow up to fifty years in a matter of days."
Remus sank farther down into his bed, sleep finally engulfing him.
When Remus woke up, he was alone with his father, who was sitting on the stiff, brown chair in the stale hospital room.
"Remus," his father said when he saw that he was awake. He didn't respond, biting his lip and staring up at the ceiling. "I wasn't talking about you," he continues. "I didn't know -"
"Why should it make a difference? You still said it. That's me now," he snapped back, still not looking at his father, instead making patterns out of the ceiling pores.
"Because you're my child. I love you."
The two of them were quiet for a few beats, letting the words sink in.
"I'm not a kid," Remus finally whispered, breaking the ice-cold silence.
"What do you mean?" His face went into the exact expression Remus imagined the night prior - lip bit, brows quirked.
"What kid is a monster? The Joker, Lex Luthor, Captain Hook, they're all monsters. None of them are kids. I'm a monster… so I'm not a kid."
He shifted slightly so that he was looking at his father, who had tears twinkling in his soft brown eyes. One had escaped and was making its way down to his father's brown beard, sticking to it.
"You're not a monster, Remus. You're my son."
Remus gave his father his best skeptical look, trying to swallow his fears and pain and trying not to mirror his dad's tears. "They're not opposites, Dad."
His father opened and closed his mouth a few times, but a frost-filled silence came into the room once more, and they were quiet, not saying a word.
Remus sighed, and took it to understand that he was right.
He was a monster. He'd be one forever.