Remus dreams.

When Remus was a boy he had this one dream. It was one of those dreams that made your mind flood with disappointment when, upon waking, you realise that it was just a dream. It was one of those dreams that follows you throughout the day and then chases you into sleep again at night.

As a boy Remus dreams.

He dreams of living in a beautiful house. He dreams of living in a beautiful house with gardens that are filled with beautiful flowers and the sound of humming bees. The beautiful house and the beautiful gardens with their beautiful flowers existed in perpetual sunshine; in a world perpetually in the height of summer. One of those perfect summers that everyone in England remembers having, when they were a child. Remus, when he is older will wonder whether he dreamt all his childhood summers. A summer that was not too hot. The weather; sunny but with a slight cooling breeze. A perfectly balanced summer where chilled homemade lemonade is a delight to be savoured not a relief to be gulped down. Maybe all the adults of the world dreamt their childhood summers. But forgot their dreams. Remus will wonder this when he is older, wiser and colder.

In this perfect summer, in this perfect house there lived two parents that said 'I love you' nearly every day. And, on the days that they didn't, they instead so perfectly, showed their love for one another in each and every one of their actions that the words weren't necessary. A perfect mother. A perfect father. Bathed in perfect sunshine.

The perfect father never stared at his son with a slight frown creasing his brow. He never had to look away quickly and try to hide his frown when his son caught him staring. Instead his son only caught looks of love, fondness and affection. No stares. No frowns, instead strong arms held wide open for warm hugs.

The perfect mother never heaved hot and heavy sighs whilst cooking dinner. In fact, more often than not father could be found cooking dinner. The son, Remus would often help his father and they would laugh together.

In this perfectly dreamy house the family silver was not hidden in the attic; when Remus received his Hogwarts acceptance letter, the family celebrated by eating fish and chips off of the large dinner plates. Remus's mother giggling and smiling over what her own mother would have made of that, had she known ('God rest her soul!'). Seconds for everyone and chocolate cake for dessert.

But dreams shift. ....

In his wildest dreams Remus saw Hogwarts all the time. But in reality he never believed that his dreams could come true. Otherwise – why dream them? Outside of dreams he was awake and he had heard them, his parents, talking. Remus should have been asleep and dreaming but he wasn't, instead he was knelt at the top of the stairs, bony little boy's knees digging into the worn carpet, hands clutching at the banisters, listening to the mummers that came from behind the closed living room door. Heart beating a slightly guilty rhythm against his chest, but he had to know. He always had to know what they were saying about him. He needed to be prepared. So Remus, little boy Remus heard mutterings about silver stirring rods and cauldrons, silver plates and medicines, and the other children. Again and again his father's voice asking 'But what about the other children?' As if Remus would never be a part of them.

But then a Hogwarts letter did arrive for Remus and he wasn't dreaming. He was living in a house, subject to autumn and winter and rain. There was a garden with a patchy lawn and a lone rose bush. The humming of bees was more a mummer in the corner than a garden filling cacophony of sound. And hot angry sighs filled the kitchen and hidden stares stifled the living room.

It was a Wednesday afternoon when the letter arrived, and for dinner they had cauliflower cheese and the family silver stayed firmly in the attic. His Mother, his Mum hugged him tightly with tears on her cheeks. And Father had squeezed his shoulder and said gruffly 'Well done Lad.' And then his Dad ventured out of the house, on a Wednesday night and came back with a Mars Bar from the corner shop. And Remus went to bed with the taste of Muggle chocolate in his mouth still. And it was all so unreal, that Remus lay in bed, afraid to close his eyes, in case he woke up.

So dreams change and sometimes for good reasons.

At age 12 Remus dreams of a girl. A warm girl with soft arms that wrap around him. A girl with smooth cheeks that press against his, lips that kiss his and wide eyes that take in his scars, and his 'affliction' and love him for it.

And dreams change, and sometimes for pressing, personal reasons.

At age 15 Remus dreams of Sirius Black with wild hair, whispering 'Moony'. He dreams of Sirius Black doing terrible and wonderful things to him under the canopy of a Gryffindor bed. He dreams of a Sirius Black, so enthralled with Remus that he leaves Snivillous alone.

But dreams change, and sometimes for hurtful reasons.

At age 22 Remus dreams of a Sirius Black who comes to him and begs for forgiveness, or help or guidance or something before it all goes wrong.

It all went wrong.

So dreams change and, sometimes they also fall away to more mundane things.

At age 25 Remus hardly dreams. He thinks about warm beds, cooked food and woolly jumpers without holes.

But once a dreamer, always a dreamer. At age 32 Remus's nights begin to fill once more with dreams. At age 32 Remus dreams of black hair and pale skin, and a young skinny boy crying in a darkened room. During the day three names swirl around Remus's head. He tries not to think too hard on what connects these three names as memories mix and overlap in his mind.

A small baby boy held in his arms; dark baby hair, soft against Uncle Remus's cheek. Two young boys breathless with laughter in each others arms. Dark hair twisted in Remus's fist as he pulls, hard. A tall dark figure, always in the background; at school, at meetings and always surrounded by whispers and taunts.

Remus tries not to think too hard on why his mind might connect Harry with Sirius and Snape. Harry can't be the boy in his dreams. Remus doesn't even know what Harry looks like now, if he really looks like James or if he actually looks like someone else's son.

At age 33 Remus sees Severus Snape and the dreams stopped. But images flicker through his mind during the day, blurring with reality. Snape as a boy. Snape as a man. Severus in his arms, twisting away. Severus's hair in his hands, twisted around his fingertips. Outside of dreams Remus finds Harry, gets back an old friend, loses his job, loses his friend, and amidst it all doesn't lose his mind. But then Severus is here grabbing Remus's hair, gripping too tight, threatening to pull it out at the roots. Remus is snarling, and snapping at Severus. And Severus snaps back, teeth clicking. 8 years of blurred reality until.

Now.

Remus stifles a sob and Severus lets go of his hair, the sudden loss sending Remus tumbling to the ground. Wincing as his knees hit the cold stone of the hallway.

'Fucking animal!' Whispers Severus with venom. And Remus tastes copper in his mouth. He teases the cut in his lip with his tongue, and wishes he could bite Severus's lips and mesh them with his own lips. He wishes he could taste his own blood and Severus's blood in his mouth, taste them mixed together. He stares blearily up at Severus, his scalp smarting from the abuse it's suffered. Then Severus reaches out and Remus flinches as a cold hand cups his chin. Then there's a callused thumb rubbing, a little too hard over the cut in his lip. 'Good Dog.' Whispers Snape. Remus hisses and the hand is gone.

Severus is stepping back and just for a moment Remus sees a flash of wide eyes, and shaking hands wiped hastily against black robes before withdrawing into dark sleeves. He sees something like fear or even terror flashing in those eyes, and then Severus is gone. A door slams shut, echoing in the broken silence.

Remus groans and leans forward till his forehead is resting on the floor. He lets the cold seep into his him. And then allows each ache and pain of his body to remind him slowly of each of his 41 years. From his knees to his hair. And he knows that he's going to start dreaming again. But this time his dreams will filter and expand on reality. And he's got to let them spur him on. He needs to see that look again. He needs to hear the whispered insults and the harsh approval. He needs to feel cruel fingers and bloody lips.

Remus needs to think.

He's not at tall embarrassed when Albus finds him in the same position 15 minutes later. Not at tall.

'Ah Remus.' Says Albus, as if he's encountered Remus in the library reading a Jane Austen book rather than prostrating himself on the second floor's main corridor.

'Albus.' Remus says, voice muffled by the floor. He grins to himself, blood from his lips dripping onto the floor below. He wonders whether it'll stain the stone and perhaps become tangible proof of these events.

Remus thinks.

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This is a bit of a weird one (again). I'm not sure whether it works or not, and how it fits into the flow of things.

This has taken absolutely aaaages to write. I spent so much time editing, cutting, rewriting, cutting out and putting bits back in, restructuring blah blah blah! That I decided to just go ahead and post it. All comments welcome - especially any comments about how it flows and whether it makes sense. I'll probably edit it again in the future. Zx