Childhood

February 24 1965

His stomach hurt. He could feel soft bandages press into the open flesh wound. His breathing was ragged, every inhale aching.

A pounding had begun in his temple. He felt a whiff of rich inviting magic. Remus had never been able to smell it before. Indeed he could smell everything now. Mothers sweet scent was coated in the sheets. Like cinnamon. It was more instinct though.

Fathers heavier metallic scent was behind the wooden door. It was steal and old in this room. Father hadn’t visited him them. He was in his parents bedroom. Fathers office was on the other side.

Everything felt more present and acute than before. He could see every shift in the light soft brown of the walls. Could see every splinter in the wooden floor. Every paint stroke in the flower painting on the wall.

He could hear the low buzz of electricity from the living room. The chattering of birds in the distant wind. A lonesome cat singing a hungry desperate tune on the path beyond their quaint cottage.

He could feel the very air against his face. Feel a weak pull to the the moon.

It was all to much. Something was wrong. What’s happening to me? He thought desperately. With a jolt he remembered the pain, the monster.

Low voices spoke on the other side of the door. It was so low he shouldn’t have been able to hear them yet he did, as clearly as though he were standing next to them.

“He’s out son!” Mother hissed.

“Not anymore. No monster is a son of mine” Father argued.

The words hit like a physical blow. Am i a monster? Do my dad no longer love me? What is wrong with me?

“This isn’t his fault. He is still the same person” Mother sobbed.

“No he is one of them” Father spat.

Sobs was heaving through him. He was confused and scared.

He stood up on shaky legs. A single tear was trickling down his cheek. He was warm, too hot. Sweat was running down his back under his linen pajamas .

The door slammed open though he used his usual amount of force.

Both his parents looked rumpled. They both had dark bags under their eyes. Mothers smile was nowhere to be found. Fathers eyes did not gleam.

Mothers hair was unwashed and for once released. It was wavy and falling over her shoulder.

Streaks of grey had begun forming in fathers hair. He was paler than usual.

Mother held out her arms and he walked into her warm embrace. It felt safe to have her arms around him. His tears wet her cardigan. She didn’t seem to mind, only hugged him tighter.

“Oh Remus” she sighed, patting his cheek. She smiled a sad smile. It didn’t suit her. It made his stomach drop. Something was horribly wrong.

She released him only to place him on her lap as she say down in an armchair. Her small hands stroked his hair gently. She hushed him gently, kissing his forehead.

“What happened?” He asked, voice trembling. It hurt to speak. It stabbed in his ribs.

“You were bitten” father explained, voice straining with the effort not to scream.

A vein was popping in his temple. His haw was clenched tight shut. He was shaking with barely restrained fury.

“Huh?” He breathed. The effort to speak properly to great.

“By a werewolf sweetheart” mother soothed gently.

He didn’t fully understand. Father had shouted about them countless times. Half beasts he called them. But what did that mean? He couldn’t be one. Surely he would know if he was. His new sharpened senses was surely something else.

He didn’t bother asking more questions. Father was too terrifying. He had never seen him look like that. It was as if he was no more than another beast to kill, like his son was dead.

“That beast. They didn’t listen- if they had just listened!” Father shouted. Who is he talking about? Remus wondered.

“Your son is here. All is not lost” mother covered his ears but he still heard everything.

“My son is dead. The beast killed him” father stated, deathly calm. Yet rage distorted his features.

“Lyall!” Mother vailed in despair. “You can find a cure! Don’t give up” she pleaded. Her tears dripped onto his head. Blond strands tickled his nose yet he didn’t care. He nestled further into her.

“Hope. He. Is. Gone” father stated cooly. Gloom crept into his face despite his cold tone when he looked at Remus face. “My son is gone” he looked like he was trying to convince mother as much as himself.

Without further or due he swept out if the room without a backwards glance.