Now, Sakai Michiba presents:
Just Remus
Prompt 4: Stories
Remus Lupin did not feel as though his mum loved him anymore.
He was seven years old, a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed young man with beautiful, dark blond hair and an easy smile. He was plagued once a month by the full moon, yes, and had been for the past few months, but even though nightmares held his dreams hostage and he often woke up crying, he was a happy boy. He spent most of his days running about the moor on which the old cottage in which his family lived sat, and when it rained, he drew on bits of parchment and tried to steal his father's wand.
His mother, however, seemed different since his accident. His father had had something to do with werewolf legislation in the ministry, had made something difficult for them, as far as Remus could understand. As a result, one of the werewolves had come after Remus just a few months before. Remus had been out on the moor, playing in a small pond by which a clutch of baby ducklings had just hatched, and he was making a scene of naming them when the sun set over the hills. He could hear his mother calling him from the house, but he thought it would be a very good joke if he were to hide from her. She would laugh and laugh at him, he knew, and he loved his mother's laugh.
She did not laugh anymore. She spent most of her time in front of the television. "Go away, Remus," she would whisper, her voice raspy, and she would wave her hand at him. "Go on. I'm watching my stories..."
"I want to see, too," he said enthusiastically for, perhaps, the twentieth time, but his mother shook her head. He scowled and fell back, staring at her with narrowed eyes before he turned so she would not see his tears.