Author's note: Warning for internalized homophobia as well as mentions of… bodily… reactions which is in the scene that starts off with a Quidditch magazine. Also this contains post-moon scenes for those who need warnings for that.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The cellar was cold. Not as cold as it could have been, but still cold—of course, him keeping the window open probably didn't help, however he wanted to make it less quiet. He was mostly worried about Arthur until finally he took Arthur upstairs to rest in the living room. Once back down in the cellar (glancing at his wolf room on the way) he tossed and turned for most the night.

It felt like punishment.

He knew it wasn't punishment, but it felt like one. Or—or that he was unwanted. Like his parents were simply shoving their problem down into the cellar. Which was utterly ridiculous! The room was proof they loved him. All the work they put in, and all to make sure he could get into bed safely after he hurt himself. It was proof of love, not lack.

When morning finally came he was exhausted. While he still had another night before the full moon, it felt like it was that night with as little sleep as he got.

"G—good morning," he said when he went up into the kitchen. It felt so strange going upstairs.

"Good morning, darling." Hope kissed his forehead then piled food on his plate, her actions a little stiff.

Remus slid into his seat. "Um. I—I wanted to apologize. For last night. I know my reaction was rude. I am very sorry for that." He saw his father nodding out of the corner of his eye. "My new room is great, really. I'm excited for it. It's so much roomier. And the rugs are beautiful."

Hope beamed, hugging him tightly. "I knew you'd love it once you got used to it! I'm happy you like the rugs, I made them in Gryffindor colors for you. It's a pattern I learned from my knitting club!"

"They're very comfortable on the feet," he said. "Um—um the thing is though…" He glanced at his father who immediately began scowling. "I w-was wondering if we could move the heater down there? I didn't see it."

Lyall's angry face faded into one of ease. "Yes, of course. I'm sure we forgot one or two things. You and I can do some work down there today, any little finishing touches you might need."

After breakfast, Lyall and Remus went up to the attic room. It hurt a little seeing his old bedroom as storage. All the things that used to be crammed in the cellar were now where he grew up. His little window seat had piles of old clothes on it.

"Ahh, here it is." Lyall took the small heater that Remus had had for several years, tucking it under his arm. "Anything else?"

"Um, n—not to my knowledge." Remus went over to the window, peering out at the garden. He wasn't a fan of heights, but he'd miss the view.

Back down in the cellar Lyall set the heater up, tapping it with his wand to make sure the spell to give off heat still worked. Satisfied it was in good condition, Lyall turned it back off.

"Perhaps tomorrow you can come with me to work to see if there's anything there you'd like for your room," Lyall offered. "In the morning, I mean, you'd need to be back in the afternoon."

It sounded more like a bribe than a genuine offer. "Um. That's all right, I know we can't afford much, and I know you've spent a lot getting all of this done," Remus said, and Lyall gave him a vaguely loving look that made Remus feel good.

Lyall pat his head. "You're a good kid."

/\/\/\/\/\

It was a drizzly day so Remus had to stay inside, curled up on the living room sofa with a book while his mother knitted next to them, the two of them listening to Muggle music on the radio. When he finished reading he started to go to his old room to get a new book then stopped at the foot of the stairs. Sighing, he turned and trooped down to the cellar, staring at the door to his wolf room. He pulled the door open, staring into the darkness for the longest of times before shutting the door and getting a new book.

"Hey, Dad?" he asked at supper. "I was wondering if—if maybe you could put magelight into the room? The, uh, small room," he clarified. "Where I transform."

"What for?" Lyall asked, lifting his eyebrows.

"Um—it's supposed to be rainy all week," Remus whispered. "If it's like that then I may not transform?"

"What do you need the light for?" Lyall asked, giving Remus a puzzled look.

Remus looked down at his food. "If—if I'm not a wolf then—then…" He trailed off, not sure how to articulate the problem. "It's so dark I can't see anything."

Lyall shrugged. "It's an empty room, what do you need to see? You can't take a book in there."

"Yes, of course, sorry." He ducked his head, poking at his food. Maybe he could try to put a magelight in there? He doubted he could without his mother noticing, though perhaps Hope wouldn't get upset about it?

That night long after his parents went to bed he crept across the cellar, cautiously opening the door. The door at the top of the stairs was closed. If he couldn't hear his parents sleeping (or rather, his mother's light snoring), he highly doubted they could hear him. He opened the door to his wolf room, goosebumps rising up all over his skin as he peered into the yawning darkness.

The room smelled of his wolf even though he didn't spend many moons in there anymore.

"Lumos," he whispered, stepping inside. It felt unnatural going in before the moon and he halfway expected to transform. It didn't take long to reach the opposite wall, and he turned around, stomach twisting as he anticipated the door to be shut.

He licked his lips. "Nox." He wasn't plunged into darkness as one of the lights in his room was on, and there was some glow coming through the doors. "Lumhalden." An orb of light shot out, sticking into the corner of the room. Remus tucked his wand into his pocket, staring at the light for a few seconds until slipping out of the room, shutting the very heavy door. No light escaped the cracks. His room was very safe.

Remus crept back into bed, hoping the light would still be there in the morning, and hoping he'd be able to get away with using it. Maybe his mother wouldn't mind so much.

It took him ages to get to sleep, though. He lay still, staring at the darkness, wishing he were in the attic until finally—finally he drifted off out of pure exhaustion.

/\/\/\/\/\

The magelight was still there when Remus got up, though it was quite weak. He got rid of it before hurrying up to breakfast. Lyall seemed to be in a pretty good mood, offering again to take Remus into the shop to look for more furniture. He was very tempted but didn't want them to spend any more money on him. Though it wouldn't be much, if any; sometimes Otillie let Lyall take things home. Like the books. Which were super interesting.

Remus went through them that afternoon, taking them off the shelves and stacking them on the floor around him as he perused the pages. There were half a dozen written strictly in runes he couldn't understand and he set these aside for when he hopefully got a book for—

Oh, he thought, realizing that if he did manage to take all the electives then that meant more books for his dad to buy. Or more. Would he need his own crystal ball or tarot cards for Divination? How many translation books would he need for Ancient Runes? What would Muggle Studies need?

He flopped backwards, covering his face as guilt consumed him. When he returned to school he was going to hand in his list of elective choices to McGonagall and ask her if he could please take them all. Should he still try? Or should he not? Would it be wrong to ask his dad to buy for all the electives? Maybe—maybe they'd be able to find very used books for cheap…?

What do I do? Despite the guilt he still wanted all of them. Needed all of them.

Then he began laughing. What was he thinking? Professor McGonagall wouldn't agree! He was worrying about nothing.

Shaking his head he sat back up and returned to sorting through the piles of books.

/\/\/\/\/\

About an hour before sunset, Remus snuck down to the basement and put a magelight in the corner of his room; it had been rainy all day, and he suspected he'd be human all night. When his mother brought him down half an hour later, he was terrified of her seeing it.

"You don't need help?" she asked, cupping his face in her hands to kiss his forehead.

"No, I'm thirteen, I can undress myself," he said, quickly going past the door. Hope pushed it till there was only a crack as he stripped off. "Thank you though." He pushed his clothes through the crack and his mother took them. "See you in the morning, Mummy. I love you."

"Love you too. Can I give you another kiss?"

"I—I'm naked!" he squeaked. "Please shut the door!"

She let out a resolved sigh, shutting the door tight. Nothing about the light. Remus backed up 'til he hit the wall then slid down, wrapping his arms around his knees and shivering a bit in the cold. It felt kinda weird being able to see everything in the room—like the bloodstains everywhere.

After what felt like an eternity he lay down, curling into a fetal position, shivering harder. It was so uncomfortable being naked on the stone floor. He missed Peter's blanket, but there was no possible way to bring it with him without his parents noticing.

The next couple of days were spent sleeping during the day and being a shivering ball of exhaustion at night since it was practically non stop rain outside. The light certainly helped him get through the nights better; it was very comforting not being in absolute blackness whenever he woke up.

By the time Wednesday came, all he could really see out his window was mud from the rain. It made him miss his attic bedroom even more.

Wednesday night—the final night of the moon—it stopped raining long enough for the clouds to part, and he was a wolf for a few hours. The light didn't really help comfort the wolf at all as when he was brought back to his body on Thursday morning he found deep gashes all over his body, and a bite on his ankle vicious enough that he could see his bone. He was unable to put any weight on it, having to hobble to the door to take the bloodied sheet offered by his mother. He wrapped it around himself then hopped out.

Hope's face filled with anguish. "I thought it rained all night," she whispered, touching his bloody hair. "I'm so sorry. Come on." She put his arm around her shoulder, helping him through the door and into the tub. Remus didn't want to admit how much easier it was to do that than it had been to get to the attic.

"I'll wait on your bed," she said, bustling around his room to fetch him a clean towel and pajamas. She set them on a footstool by the tub then closed the curtains to give him privacy.

Remus only put a little water in the tub, carefully wiping off his body then rinsing the cloth off under the faucet. It took ages to get remotely clean, and he resisted the urge to fill the tub and doze in there. However Pomfrey's stern words were too strong, and he only wiped himself clean.

Cleanish.

He dried off, put the pajamas on, then called for his mother to help him to the bed.

"Is this easier, darling?" she asked, easing him into his bed.

Remus stuck his lip out. "Yes," he sighed, and Hope looked very happy. "Thank you."

"I'll bring you breakfast."

Remus fell asleep briefly, waking up again when Hope came back in with a tray of food. He pushed himself into a sitting position to eat. Hope chattered about various things, sitting on the edge of his bed while he ate. She talked a lot about the upcoming summer holidays, obviously very excited to have him home for two months.

"Your thirteenth summer," she said in a strange voice.

"Hard to believe," he said. Hope frowned, and twisted her wedding ring around her finger. "Are you all right, Mum?"

"Yes," she whispered, clearly not at all okay. "I'm fine."

Remus set his fork down. "You seem upset."

Hope smiled a very fake smile. "I'm always upset around the full moons. I worry about you. I hate seeing you so injured." She reached over, stroking his hair.

He frowned, anxious about the false cheer. "Is there something wrong about my thirteenth summer?"

"No, no!" she said, then hesitantly added, "It's—it's a big thing. You're a teenager now." Her eyes grew watery and she began wringing part of her skirt. "A teenager," she repeated in a whisper.

"Mum—"

"Why don't you rest?" She whisked the nearly empty tray off his lap, planting another kiss on his head. "Get some sleep. I'll fix some of your favorite cookies. You can have them with lunch."

"Mum—"

But she left without another word, and Remus stared at the closed door wondering what the hell that had been about.

He thought all through the day about what his mother might have meant, and was still confused come suppertime. Whenever he tried to bring it up Hope would dismiss his questions and change the subject. He grew suspicious and far too curious, deciding to try to ask his father.

When he brought it up at supper Hope went pale, and Lyall stared at Remus.

"What about your thirteenth birthday?"

"I—I was wondering if there was anything special about it," he asked.

Lyall rubbed his chin. "Not to my knowledge. Why? Were you expecting something?"

"No. Only wondering," Remus murmured, though the way his father phrased the question made him think about Sirius's thirteenth birthday expectations.

Maybe it is just Mum being sad I'm growing up so fast, he thought as he went back to his food.

/\/\/\/\/\

Remus didn't press the issue the next day, deciding to let it go. Especially since he was tired from not getting much sleep the night before; he was exhausted from the full moon, but it was still discomforting being in the basement. He felt trapped. And sometimes when he was drifting off he could almost hear himself in the other room, growling and slobbering. Several times he woke up, terrified he was in the wolf room, having to light up his wand to reassure himself he wasn't.

Instead of dwelling on his mother's comment (and the wolf room), he focused on trying to fix up his room, moving things around to better suit his own aesthetics. Pretty much everything was moved except the dresser, which he kept under the window in order for him to get to the window. He couldn't move his in-room bathroom either, of course. He did spend forever rearranging the books on his shelves until he was satisfied with how they looked. The room still felt depressing and cellar-ish, but with the furniture in places that felt good, it wasn't quite as bad even if it definitely didn't feel like his.

That night there was a tapping at the window. Remus dropped the book he had been reading, glancing up in surprise. An owl was sitting on the ground outside his window, waiting patiently.

"Who the—?"

But before he even got to the window he knew it had to be Lily, and sure enough Bessie held out her leg to give him the letter. He carefully untied it then stepped aside, offering her one of Arthur's perches to rest on. She fluttered in, snuggling up with Arthur.

Dear Remus, 17/4/73

How are your holidays going? Mine have been absolutely TERRIFIC! Can you feel the sarcasm in the ink? Petunia and I have been fighting endlessly. I feel at wits end. Remus I don't know what to do. It feels as though every single thing I do sets her off whether it's magic related or not! I did the dishes last night and Petunia comes in and says 'what not doing a spell to do the work for you?' then when I asked what she meant she said that she was surprised I was doing anything to help out around the house without using magic. She then went on to say how lazy I was going to become doing magic! I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!

Then worst of all my mother and I got into a row about my hair! She burst into tears when she saw it. She says she's heartbroken I cut off all my 'lovely long locks'. I explained to her that I can grow it back out quickly but I don't know if she really understood.

Enough of that, I don't want this to be nothing but complaints about the difficult things. That isn't any good for you. It's just so frustrating. Although I do understand the lazy thing. I mean, not that any of us are lazy. Well not you or me or Cassie or Ali or anyone like that. Okay I mean Potter and Black. I can see them using magic to be lazy. But while yes we can flick our wands and use a spell to clean everything it isn't ONLY THAT is it? We have all the learning to go into it plus we need to make sure we do the spell right and

Am I making any sense? I don't know anymore. As I said I am so frustrated. I feel like I am running in circles. Maybe magic does make magical folk lazy compared to Muggles. Once we know a spell it takes us less effort to, say, do the dishes. Hmm. Except not every witch or wizard can master spells. Some may be able to use magic to wash the dishes but need to put more physical effort into cooking? I don't know. Maybe this is something I could research. What do you think?

There I go rambling again.

Have you finished marking off your electives? I keep wavering. They're due when we get back so I need to make a decision! I am definitely going to go with Study of Ancient Runes, it sounds so fascinating! Other than that I'm not so sure anymore. I like the idea of Arithmancy, yet working with animals might be fun. Professor Kettleburn does scare me a little though. He has so many injuries. Surely he's a safe teacher though, right?

I'm really excited for Easter Sunday. Mum took Petunia and I out shopping yesterday and I found the cutest dress! I'll show you when we get back. Maybe you can borrow it next time. HAH! I'm sorry I couldn't resist. I'm only being silly.

I better go before I bore you too much.

Lots of love, Lily

Remus read and reread the letter multiple times. The first part upset him though the last bits made him smile, except for the dig about the dress—that rat!

He sat down and penned a letter back, telling her that she never needed to apologize for rambling, that he was sorry about Petunia and wished he could give better advice. He added that he had a new room now, a bigger one—though didn't say it was in the cellar, just that they switched his old room with another—and wrote a lot about the books his father had given him. Then he finished with the news his mother was severely ill and he wasn't sure if he'd have time to respond again, so if it was all right they could just catch up on the train? He hoped that sounded natural enough, and a less rude way of saying 'please don't write to me'.

After Bessie rested for a while he managed to tie it onto her leg without much issue (by touching her as little as possible) though she obviously was uncomfortable. After hooting a couple of times she hopped back to the windowsill, walked out, and flew away.

Remus watched her go before shutting his window and going back to bed, glad the letter had come tonight and not the previous one when he wasn't there!

/\/\/\/\/\

Easter weekend was full of baked goods, lots of food, and a decently sized chocolate egg that Hope hid somewhere in the house and had him search for it. He pretended he couldn't smell it when he first went into the living room, and spent an extra ten minutes searching. For one, he wanted his mother to have fun, and also he didn't want her to get distraught over him using his wolf senses. That's why she had stopped Easter egg hunts when he was young, and he thought it was a super good sign she was trying it again, so he wanted to make sure it went well.

As always during his holidays home, the second Monday home marked Hope getting really melancholy and sad over the fact Remus would be leaving soon. She seemed even sadder than normal, and that afternoon he found her crying.

He wasn't supposed to find her crying. She was in her bedroom, sobbing into her hands. Remus hovered outside the door debating whether or not to go in, but when she gave a particular gut-wrenching sob he couldn't stand it a second longer.

"Mum?"

He pushed open the door, peering in.

Hope wiped her face off onto her sleeves. "Oh, Remus, darling, I'm sorry, I didn't hear you calling for me—"

"I wasn't." He stepped into his parents' bedroom cautiously. "I heard you crying and got worried."

Hope smiled, shaking her head. "No, it's just me being silly, that's all."

"Is something wrong?" He ventured closer until he was at her side, sitting on the bed.

"It really is silly," she promised, leaning against him. "I'm just being fussy about—about some things."

He leaned back against her, pressing his arm against hers. "About what?" He wanted to help her, if he could. If it wasn't about him then perhaps he could do something.

Hope sighed. "My weight, mostly. My face. My appearance."

That took Remus by surprise. "Wh—what do you mean?" He glanced at his mother, trying to figure out what she was talking about. "You're beautiful."

Hope wrapped her arms around him, hugging tightly. "You're so sweet," she cooed, kissing his temple. "But I've—I've lost so much weight… there's hardly anything left."

He had noticed his mother had lost weight since he first started school but she didn't look dangerously thin. "It isn't bad, is it?" he asked, suddenly worried. "You're not—it's not—not like what happened to me, right?"

"Oh! Oh, no," she promised. "No, not like that. I'm not—I'm still in a healthy range, as far as I can tell. But—well." She looked down at herself and gave another sigh. "I've gotten so many new wrinkles too, and I'm going grey…"

Remus wrapped his arms around her. "You're beautiful, Mum. Completely beautiful." Then a thought snagged in his brain. "Dad hasn't said anything about it, has he?" Lyall loved Hope, in such an obvious manner that it disgusted Remus sometimes. He couldn't imagine his father making a remark about her appearance in a negative way…!

"No, no," Hope said quickly, smoothing down his hair. "He still says I'm beautiful too. It's only me. I don't like seeing myself like this."

"Oh," he said, understanding that feeling; he hated his reflection too. "Well. You are beautiful. The most beautiful in the world, I promise."

She bent down, pressing her cheek against the top of his head. "You're such a sweet boy, Remus, love. It's such a shame. If things were different you'd make some girl such a happy wife."

A bolt of lightning shot right through his body, and he physically jerked at those words. "W—what? What do you mean a… a shame?" he couldn't help but ask in a breathless voice.

Hope gave him a strange look and suddenly he was terrified. Terrified that she meant it's such a shame you have those perverted thoughts, terrified she meant you'd make some girl a happy wife if you weren't so loathsome and immoral.

"You can't," she said slowly. "You're—you're a—a werewolf. You won't be able to… have that in life."

He almost let out a sigh of relief. That's what she meant, notof course. "Yes," he said, hoping she couldn't hear how hard his heart was pounding. "Yes, I know. Sorry, yes."

She went back to stroking his hair and he leaned into her touch, glad she couldn't see into his soul and see how dark some of his thoughts were.

I'm not like that, he thought, curling up with his head in his mother's lap while she sang gently, fingers raking through his hair. I'm not.

/\/\/\/\/\

Except that night when he was going through a magazine something unfortunate happened. It was a Quidditch magazine James had given him to 'help encourage his love for Quidditch', and when Remus flipped a page and saw some young guy with long black hair and broad shoulders dressed in tight Quidditch trousers and no shirt—

Well, he wasn't expecting that to happen.

He was absolutely humiliated, and very glad it happened when no one was around! It also made him a little grateful for having the bathroom things right there in his room. He dumped the magazine on his bed and ran—awkwardly—to the tub, filling it with cold water. He hoped the cold water would help.

He stripped off, purposely not looking at his erection, and then slipped into the cold water which did help get rid of the problem.

Remus shivered, staring up at the ceiling, wondering why the hell that happened.

A tiny part of his brain told him exactly why it happened and he shoved it down, shoved it away, buried it deep, and returned to pretending like he wasn't possibly a complete freak of nature with those feelings. The best thing, in his opinion, was to deny it ever even happened; pretend like everything was fine, that it didn't happen, because it wouldn't have happened, it shouldn't happen, it was wrong to happen, so it didn't happen.

After a moment or two he slumped down until the water came up to his chin, and he covered his face as he cried.

I'm not, I'm not, I'm NOT!