Chapter 2
Chapter 2
The table of 1975 goes into uproar after a moment of the youngest male Weasley’s statement. The marauders in particular are very defensive over their esteemed Headmaster. Remus himself doesn’t say anything though he does nod with a guilty expression whenever the marauder arguing in particular turns to face him to gauge his agreement.
“He feels indebted to Dumbledore. For allowing him into Hogwarts despite his werewolf status. Classic Slytherin move.” Theodore Nott speaks up for the first time, eyes focused on Lupin. “Allow someone with a characteristic that makes them unique, making them believe that they are the only one, special. Make them feel guilty, then nudge them in the right direction. Perfect puppet for life.”
The table of 1975 quiet down. All look to Remus who avoids their eyes, gnawing softly on his lower lip, eyelashes fluttering.
1965, June 19th:
“Wonder who this is about.” Black whispers before frowning. “Hey, Moony, isn’t that ...?”
“This is the day I got turned.” Lupin's eyes are fixated on the screen now.
A little boy is crouched down near the flowerbeds of his home, giggling, and singing a nursery song to himself. His eyes catch onto a butterfly, and he shrieks happily, racing after the insect, hopping over the invisible line his parents told him to never cross, to never enter the forest lest he gets lost.
“Come back, Mister Butterfly! I won’t hurt you!”Young five year old Remus Lupin frowns softly before taking note of his situation. His eyes hook onto something in the distance, and he gasps, skipping over.“Excuse me, Mister, can I have some of those?”
Remus points to what’s in the teen’s hand. As the teen turns, they see his face. It’s a young Fenrir Greyback, mouth stained around the edges with juice from the berries in his hand. He’d been picking them to eat.
“Eh? Where’d you come from, little one?”
Remus giggles.“I’m not little, mama says I’m big. I came from my house, its over there.”He points in the vague direction of his house. Fenrir pauses.
“Long way from home, ain’t'cha?”
“Ain’t’cha isn’t a word, Mister!”Remus crows, snickering some more when Fenrir’s face twists in disbelief.
“Is to!”
“Is not! Not! Not! Not!”Remus interrupts before Fenrir and he can go onto argue.“See. I win. It isn’t a word. What’s your name, Mister?”Fenrir blinks. It’s like he’s gotten whiplash from the multiple questions.
“Er ... Fenrir?”
Remus grins.“I’m Remus! You’re very pretty Fenny!” Fenrir’s mouth parts before he turns away and starts picking more berries.
“It’s Fenrir, little one.”Fenrir grunts, handing over some berries and sighing softly when Remus planks down next to him.
“Okay, Fenny.”
Someone snickered.
“Greyback, how old were you here?” Snape asks, staring at the screen where it’s paused on the confused expression of Fenrir, eyes slightly widened at how at ease the boy him was around, a total stranger. Usually, the vibes gave off danger and no one dared approach. It was a lonely way to live but a life Fenrir was forced to ever since he was a child.
“Fifteen.” Fenrir grumbles.
“You turned Remus at fifteen? Are you fucking insane?” Sirius demands.
“I didn’t turn anyone!” Fenrir snarled back, eyes lighting up with a golden hue. “I didn’t turn anyone until I was nineteen! And even then it was because it was a sick child, beaten by her abusive foster parents and on deaths doorsteps!” The room goes silent as they adjust to the bombshell being dropped. Sighing, Fenrir slumps forward, holding his head in his hands. “Lyall Lupin was and is prejudiced against werewolves. He hunted us for sport. He was cruel, ruthless, merciless, he killed my entire pack. We were peaceful. We’d done nothing wrong. But he killed us anyway.”
“T-That’s not true …” Sirius stutters, eyes going to Remus, who says nothing, pursing his lips. “Remus? It’s not—your father isn’t like that, is he? Isn’t … you know?”
“Leave it, Padfoot.” Sirius concedes, eyes flickering between them, looking conflicted before his eyes go to the screen.
“You shouldn’t be out here, kid, it’s dangerous.” Fenrir says, picking off some berries and gently grabbing Remus’s hand, opening it and letting the berries hit the five year olds palm. “You can get hurt.” Remus pouts.
“I know. But I don’t like home. I like being out here.” Remus grumbles. “Besides, Fenny, you’re here with me. You’ll protect me. You feel safe. Home.” Fenrir pauses, jaw working as he gauges that. Then with a blush, he ducks his head and shovels a few more berries in his mouth. He picks some berries off the bush, hissing when one of the thorns prick at his skin.
“Fuck!”
“Oh, no, Fenny, you’re hurt.” Remus gasps, grabbing Fenrir’s hand and tugging it closer to him, peering down at it. He watches as it heals before tilting his head and bringing the finger up, kissing it softly. The soft pads of the boys lips are like a ghost of a futures touch and Fenrir’s eyes widen as Remus grins. “There! All better now!”
“Your mothers calling for you.” Fenrir says after a moment of silence during which Fenrir eats berries and plucks them off to give them to Remus. Remus gasps, standing hastily. “Wait!” Remus turns to face him, and Fenrir lifts the bottom of his shirt to wipe of the berries juice from around the boys mouth.
“Thanks, Fenny. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Don’t mention me to anyone. Not even your parents.” Fenrir says, grabbing Remus gently by the shoulders, crouching down to the same height as Remus to properly show him how serious and scared he is. Remus eyes run over his face before he nods and leans forward, rubbing his nose against Fenrir’s, an instinct telling him to do it. Fenrir gasps, rearing back but Remus is already running away, waving.
“Bye, Fenny!”
“What was that?” Remus asks, looking towards where Fenrir is staring at the screen, eyes wide and face lit up with a soft pink blush. Fenrir clears his throat before looking at the table.
“That, Lupin, is how the submissive of a dominant werewolf greets and says goodbye to their fated mate.” Snape says. Remus’s mouth falls open, looking towards a stony Fenrir.
“So you and I … you … and … and me …?”
“Me and you.” Fenrir confirms, nodding. Remus gasps, face flushing bright red.
“That doesn’t make sense!” Black finally bursts out.
Harry frowns. “Siri, if they’re mates—then they’re mates—!”
“No, pup, not about that.” Black waves away. Harry’s frown softens and he looks curious. The tables are listening in intrigue as well, wondering what Black was about to say. “Remus’s parents said that he was turned by Fenrir Greyback on June 19th, 1965, Lyall Lupin was adamant on it.” Lupin nods, agreeing to this. “But Remus clearly left the forest, went back to his house and was still human by the time the day ended. And Greyback wouldn’t turn his mate, not until he was older, not if it meant he’d be in more pain than it was worth, especially considering he knew Remus was his mate then judging by the look on his face.” Black says. Bill hums.
“So what reason would Lyall Lupin have to lie to his son about his turning day? What happened on this day that was so significant he needed to draw the attention away?” Bill concluded. Black snaps his fingers, pointing to Bill.
“Exactly.”
Cedric frowned. “But we haven’t seen how the rest of the day planned out. For all we know, whilst Remus was going back to his house, he came across another werewolf and gotten bit. Or even later in the day when Greyback had already left.” Lupin sighs.
“True, that’s true.” Lupin frowns softly at the screen, eyebrows furrowed before they rose in surprise at the date.
1979, November 5th:
“Any significance in the year 1979?”
Malfoy hums softly. “Regulus and Orion Black both died. This was the apparent year Harry Potter was supposedly conceived between Lily Evans and James Potter. Those are the ones that come off the top of my head.” Harry grumbled at that, and Snape tightened his arms from where they were around the young boy.
The screen shows a living room where someone’s lounging. Tousled brown hair is messed up and hazel eyes beneath glasses are wet with tears. James Potter sniffles as he brings a hand up to wipe at his nose.
“It’s older James!” Sirius exclaims. James narrows his eyes at himself and shrugs a little. His parents beam at each other.
“You’re so handsome, baby.” Euphemia Potter croons. James blushes.
“Mum!” He groans, burying his face in his hands. Fleamont snickers before frowning.
“But why are you crying?” James lifts his head and stares at himself as future James continues to sniffle.
James stands and heads into the kitchen, numbly going through the motions as he grabs a mug and turns on the kettle, pouring in boiling water and adding a tea bag. It’s a fruity flavour. His hand goes to his stomach, and he rubs it for a moment before sighing softly and grabbing his mug, going to sit at the table and rubbing at his cheek.
Severus enters the room then.
“Oh my god. Oh my god!” Someone whispers.
Severus sights James and heads over, pressing a kiss to James’ hair.
“Merlin and Morgana on a frizzy pogo stick.” Sirius breathes, eyes wide. James’ eyes are also wide, like large coins as he glances at Severus, who’s staring at the scene with a tilt of his head and a strange twist of his mouth. James blushes.
James leans into it, dipping his head back and accepting the kiss to his lips Severus gives him, humming softly. Severus peers at the tea and laughs a little. “Baby cravings?” He asks. James pokes him in the stomach gently.
“Don’t laugh. You’re the one that got me pregnant, you dick.” Severus snickers and heads over to make something to eat. James watches him with a lazy smile as Severus makes a grilled cheese sandwich. “Pickles?” James asks hopefully. Severus glances at him, eyebrow arching before he heads to the fridge and grabs the pickles.
“Inside or out?” Severus asks. James thinks for a moment.
“Inside.” He says.
“Ew!” Fabian and Gideon chorus. James thumps them, glaring at them.
“It’s to feed my son as well, you douches.” James scolds, wagging a finger at them. They pout and recede. Arthur chuckles.
Severus makes a face when James isn’t looking but obeys the male and cooks it, grabbing a place and dropping one off in front of James, kissing him on the temple. He makes his own and sits down, watching James eat for a moment.
“So … you were crying.” He starts softly, making James still. “James … you could’ve come to me. Whatever’s bothering you—whatever’s on your mind … we deal with it together, okay? We’re bonded. You chose me and I chose you. We’re doing this together.” James softens as he stares into Severus’s eyes.
“Aw!” Queenie whispers. Euphemia claps her hands beneath her chin.
“Son, you picked a perfect bond mate.” James blushes, looking to Severus who bites his lip and avoids his eyes.
“What’s bothering you, darling?” James eyes go to the table, and he fiddles with the cloth over it.
“It’s just … I was thinking about how … this war.” He lets out an explosive sigh mixed with a sob. “Our son, he’s never going to get to know the people that’ve died fighting. My parents, Fabian, Gideon, Regulus—”
“No.” Sirius breathes, eyes filling with tears.
“We … died?” Fabian whispers, looking to his stricken twin.
“Mum … dad?” James eyes dart to his parents and tears stream faster down his face as his parents stare at the screen, horrified.
“We never get to meet our grandson?” Fleamont asks. It isn’t really a question, and he isn’t expecting an answer but Snape winces and nods a little. Euphemia buries her face in her hands and lets out a little sob.
“So we tell them stories, tell him memories of them, show him pictures and I’m sure I have a pensieve around somewhere. They may have passed on, Jamie, but there not gone. They live on still, in you, in me, in our son.” Severus whispers. James breath hitches and he brings a hand up to wipe at his eyes.
“You’re a bastard, Sev, you shouldn’t be so good at words. You know exactly what to say, I’m jealous.”
“No you’re not.” Severus chuckles and stands, walking over to James and holding out a hand. James takes it and he’s lifted off his feet as Severus kisses him softly.
“Well, who knew?” Black says, smiling a little sadly. The humour does nothing for the situation. Clearing his throat, he looks to the screen that’s gone blank once more.