Remus Lupin was not in shock, per se. It was more like...shame.
He had walked out on his wife, who was carrying his poor child.
He loved them, he really did. But it wasn't good for them, for anyone.
And now Harry had yelled at him, and shouted...well, he shouted the truth.
But there must have been truth to Remus's argument, too, wasn't there?
Dora was perfectly capable of making beautiful children. She could pass on her warm, loving eyes and her metamorphmagus abilities. He smiled at that, a little girl with violet hair.
Then he shook himself out of it.
Yes, Dora would be a lovely mother. But him...what about him?
He knew the pain of being a monster. And if his child had to feel the same pain, he would never forgive himself. His wife might, but he would refuse to. It would be better if he left, rid his loved ones of him. It was bad enough that he was the cause of what was growing inside of her.
He couldn't inflict any more pain.
How would his child look at him?
How would he look at him, the cause of his life, the cause of the monsterlike qualities in him? (If there would be any, that is)
But how would he look at his child?
Even if he wouldn't fear the moon when he grew, how would Remus look at the baby, the one he might never love properly?
No, Remus thought. That's absurd.
He would give his son or daughter all the love in the world.
The love he couldn't give himself.
He was ashamed.
Harry had spoken the truth.
He was ashamed because, essentially, he knew those words already. He had said them himself.
He just shut them out.
He stormed out of Grimmauld Place, headed for his wife and his unborn child.
Shame clouded his thoughts because he had finally managed to hurt someone.
Other than himself.
He had to fix it.
Thanks, Harry.
