The moment ten
year-old Remus told his name to the curious and the kind, those
adults wanting to be polite to this shy little boy they found
half-behind his mother, staring at the ground modestly, he would get
a look. It was always one sort of look: the slight raise of
eyebrows, the slow-coming, gentle smile, and an underlying expression
that could only be described as a mix of confusion and sympathy.
Sometimes the look could be translated as amusement, other times,
incredulity. After all, what could this boy's mother and father be
thinking when they decide to name their darling son, their only
son....R-e-m-u-s?
"Ree-muhs? Ree-mahs?" always came
the hesitant question. "Is that how you pronounce it? Ree-mis?"
Anyway they pronounced that last syllable was fine to the boy; it
all sounded the same after ten years of having it shouted, cooed, and
dictated at you.
"Well....what a very unique name."
There was always that apologetic flattery, after the initial awkward
questioning. It was unique to some, it was odd but "special"
to others, and still, it could even be..... "Weird, very weird
name for a kid." Only the bold and frank would say that, though
Remus knew everybody else must be thinking the same thing.
Glances
from the boy to his mother, over and over again, were fairly common.
The looks they got questioned their mental health, as well as what
naming book the parents had consulted. His mother always answered
for both of them, though what she said never really justified what
had possessed her to choose such a name. "Doesn't he look like
a Remus?" And that was it. Thank you so much, Mum, for keeping
me from looking like an idiot, Remus would think.
At this
point in the conversation (one was actually, right then, proceeding
unhappily in real time) he'd stare at what was at the end of the
grocery aisle: BUY A DOZEN KUMQUATS AND GET FIVE FREE! What a good
deal! Remus really wanted to go over there and get seventeen
kumquats, and maybe try to drag his mother along, too, so she'd stop
unknowingly shoving her son further and further from the
rainbow-colored spectrum of normal people. He loved normalcy; he
wanted to be the essence, no, the quintessence of normalcy.
Therefore, he wanted to smile, bid the dear old lady staring at he
and his mother a good day, and a happy shopping experience, and go
over to those lovely kumquats. But he wouldn't. He couldn't. His
mother had a firm grip on his shoulder as she chatted easily with her
friendly acquaintance. His mother was overprotective; he knew it, he
knew she knew it, but that never stopped her. She'd always kept a
hold on him since that one night six years ago, the last night she
let him go where he pleased. Remus didn't blame her, nor did he
really mind, aside from the times when he was being talked to, or
worse, talked about. Like right now.
"Isn't that the
name of the little Greek boy who got killed by his brother?" the
lady asked. She looked at his mother warily. Remus made a point to
keep his gaze fixed on the fruit stands beyond the aisle.
"Roman,
actually. And he was an adult when he got killed, actually. And,
yes, actually, that is someone who shares my son's name," his
mother said, ruffling Remus' over-ruffled hair. Too many
"actually's"; she was getting uncomfortable, or annoyed, or
both.
"Well....I see," the lady said, nodding. She
spared one more glance down at Remus, who decided not to look up at
her. "Quite a darling child. And how old are you, precious?"
she asked, finally deciding to bring the topic to more safer
territory. She bent her knees to ridiculously bring herself to his
level, all the while beaming as one would at a baby. This
conversation was lasting longer than most, Remus noted, feeling his
face heat up at the sudden unwanted attention he was getting.
"Uhm.
Ten?" he asked, a smile faltering and twisting his face, as
they always did. The lady looked surprised, then raised herself back
to his mother's height.
"I could've sworn he was seven.
Oh, dear..." the lady was saying quietly, and laughing. He
heard his mother's laugh, a sad one. Remus wondered if his mother
hated him for looking so young.
The lady left with a cheerful
goodbye, and Remus and his mother were left alone. Remus let his
eyes wander up to her face: a closed expression was all he found.
She picked up a can of condensed potato and leek soup, and put it
into the shopping cart indifferently. "Mum?" Remus asked
meekly, deciding to say something to break the horrible silence
descending upon aisle 10. His mother looked down at him. "Could
we get seventeen kumquats?" He pointed at the colorful sign at
the end of the aisle.
"No, Remus," his mother said.
Remus shifted his weight from one foot to the other uneasily. "Let's
just go home," she said, pushing the shopping cart to the
cashier. Remus wondered if his mother hated him for liking
kumquats.
He helped her put the small amount of groceries on
the cashier's counter, not saying a word. Who wanted seventeen
kumquats, anyway? he thought. Let alone twelve. That was a lot of
kumquats. You'd probably get sick and never want to see another
kumquat in your life after eating all those.
He carried the
bag out of the store for his mother, while she pushed him along with
a guiding hand on his back. He opened the car door, almost spilled
the contents of the bag, and got inside. His mother started the car,
and then glanced at him. "There's something in the bag for
you," she said, smiling. She looked beautiful when she
smiled.
Remus dug around, before his fingers brushed against a
cool, square-shaped thing. He pulled out a bar of dark chocolate.
"Thanks," he said, his own smile lighting up his features.
Kumquats had nothing on chocolate. He took a bite, and felt happy
again.
Sirius showed no confusion,
amusement, or interest in Remus' name when Remus had introduced
himself in December of their first year at Hogwarts. Then again,
Sirius didn't show any interest in Remus as a person, until the
beginning of their second year, when he began to suspect there was
something wrong about him.
Sadly enough, it was Remus' middle
name that got something out of Sirius.
Print your full name
on the line if you wish to subscribe to Zingin' Brooms Weekly!
the subscription form proclaimed. Remus stared at it. "Are you
sure you want this magazine? It's thirty-five galleons for a
twelve-month subscription. They're ripping you off."
"No,
no, no," Sirius said lightly, "they're ripping you
off." Remus snorted and vowed never to lose a card game to
Sirius again. "Print clearly, now," he instructed, tapping
the instructions with his finger. Remus frowned.
"Why
don't you fill this out? The deal was I had to pay for this
subscription. I could give you fifty galleons and you could send out
the subscription." The voice of reason he loved to exercise
occasionally in Sirius Black's presence.
Sirius looked
nonplussed. "And get all the junkmail that comes along with the
magazines? I refuse. You can give me the magazine each time you get
it, and you can keep the junkmail. My thanks to you." He
grinned cheekily.
Remus smiled in a sweetly sarcastic manner
and filled out the subscription.
Name: Remus John Lupin.
Do
you wish to get a free pinup witch with your first magazine sent to
you: Uh, no.
Do you wish to pay after your subscription has
expired (check 'no' if you wish to pay immediately): Yes.
Please
print your location here: Okay.
He scribbled out "Hogwarts"
and handed it to Sirius. Sirius nodded approvingly, eyes scanning
over the form. "All right, now if we can get this to--" He
stopped and stared at the form, before staring at Remus. Remus
wished he had a box to put over his head; his nose suddenly felt
huge, his body extremely scarred and skinny.
"What did I
do?" he asked, uncomfortably. A slow smile spread over Sirius'
face.
"John, is it?" he asked.
"Remus...John...Lupin."
Remus stared blankly at
Sirius. "Yes," he said. "I don't see what's so
strange about it." But Sirius was grinning like a maniac.
"You
don't look like a John, Johnny boy. Mister Keats, hahaha, Johnny
Rotten." He patted Remus on the head in a very annoying
fashion. Remus sighed.
"I thought the 'J' stood for
'Jane' all this time, you know," Sirius said, suddenly wearing a
completely serious expression.
Remus looked at Sirius with
half-veiled dismay. "Well, no. John's my father's name, so. I
got it. As a middle name, that is."
"My middle name
is Altair, you know," Sirius said, with no shame. "Can I
call you Johnny boy?"
Remus unsuccessfully attempted to
hide a smile. "No. I'd prefer if you called me Remus," he
said.
Sirius grinned. "Come on. That's like insulting
your father, not letting me call you John."
"My
father thought it insulting that I had his name." What! What
was he saying! Why were words coming out of his mouth? "After
I got the bite." Remus didn't know if he should be telling
Sirius this. But Sirius was looking at him in a way that made him
want to continue. He did.
"He thought that he'd have a
strong, normal son to carry on his name. He's very serious about
things like that, I suppose. And fathers usually give their sons
their names...whether it's their middle name or first name." He
was on the verge of babbling. He continued on, straightforwardly in
intelligent Remus style.
"But he wanted to name me Remus,
because..." he paused, staring at the covers of his bed. Sirius
had twisted them from squirming too much. "Well...I really
don't know," he said. "I think...from the start, from when
I was born, that is, I disappointed him. I think he was always
expecting a second son, one that wouldn't be quite like me."
"Why
was he disappointed in you?" Sirius asked, his expression
normal, one of mild interest.
"Before I got the bite? I
have no idea," Remus said. His voice had lowered in volume, the
way it did whenever he got uncomfortable. "We don't really talk
that much, so I've never...really asked him. Or. Gotten some sort
of clue as to what I did..." He stopped there.
"Well.
At least you have a good mother, eh?" Sirius said, smiling. He
stood. Time to get the letter to the owlery.
"Yes,"
Remus said. Sirius pulled him against his strong side, a guiding arm
guiding him down the stairs, through the common room, and into the
chilly halls. "And a good father; don't get me wrong. He's
fine." He smiled back.
"Anyone who doesn't
appreciate you cannot possibly be that good of a person. Or father,"
Sirius said, in a way that made Remus think he was saying it to
himself. He reached out and patted Remus on the head in that
infuriating manner. "I mean, you're just too damned
cute."
Remus smiled and removed Sirius' hand from his
head, the arm from his shoulders. "Thank you," he said
flatly, "but cute boys mean nothing to fathers."
"They
mean something to me," Sirius said with a leer at Remus, as they
passed through the Great Hall. Remus smiled helplessly, and stopped
pushing the subject. It was too much, having Sirius flirt
purposelessly when one was trying to focus on something that wouldn't
make him uncomfortable.
Oh, look, in the fruit bowl on the
table. A kumquat. Remus picked it up, and chucked it at the leering
Sirius.
