Chapter 3
Remus woke up sore and alone but in considerably less amount of pain than the last time. He felt itchy all over, and he had a throbbing pain coming from his face.
Oh, he thought. Well shit.
This was bound to happen, he considered as he lifted his hand to his face feeling the bandage. He had been lucky so far. Most of his scars were easily concealable. Not anymore. The faint voice in the back of his mind questioned if it really even mattered anymore. By the time term started he won't have anyone left that will question a scar. Everyone else can think what they want to think.
Groaning, he turned his head to look around the room. Everything was in its place, chair included. No one had sat by his bedside. He thought idly if his Father even meant the words he had said to him. If he had even said them at all. Remus guessed that it could’ve just been his imagination taking control in a time of need. A time when he needed his Father to be there for him. A time in which all he needed to hear was a simple apology or even some type of affection shown.
He stares up at the ceiling fighting back tears. He wants to go downstairs. He wants to see with his own eyes his Father, his Dad, drunk maybe even passed out when his son is upstairs in pain covered in bandages. He wants to be wrong. He wants there to be some sort of emergency that pulled his Father away from his bedside. He wants to walk downstairs to see his Father making Remus’ favorite tea, apologizing that it took him so long. He knows he is right, though. He knows what he will see if he steps foot downstairs. It makes him want to go down more. It makes his blood boil and the wolf instincts to come out. He wants to scream at and hit his Father. He wants to yell in his face that when he was getting drunk, Remus was here sick and in pain. He wants to beg him to just be a Father. To care. Remus won't do it though. Instead he rolls over, wincing as he does, ready to fall back asleep and say goodbye to his life for a little while longer.
Before sleep can take him, though, he hears a light tapping at the window. He wanted to ignore it. He wanted to pretend he didn’t know what would be waiting for him when he rolled over. He closed his eyes, willing the tapping to go away. Of course, it just got louder. He sighed, this time rolling over took a lot of effort. With a great amount of pain he made it to the window and let the owl in. The owl simply dropped the letter in his lap and flew away. Not wanting to, but somehow unable to stop himself, Remus opened the letter.
Dear Remus Lupin,
How's your summer going, mate? Mine’s been okay. I love being home with mum and dad. I am still mad at Sirius, but it is hard to keep it from mum and dad, they have no idea what happened and I plan on keeping it that way. I honestly don’t know why. I’ll tell them if you want me to. They would be so mad at him. He would be punished, so just let me know, yeah?
Well, why I’m writing is because well it's been a full day since the moon and I just want to make sure you're okay. I know you said you didn't really wanna write and I get that you're mad, but I really do want to make sure you're okay. I know your transformations have been getting harder. It's hard to keep anything from us, Moony!
Well please write back just letting me know you're alive at least. You don't have to say anything you don’t want to.
Best wishes,
James Flemont Potter
Remus laughed to himself. What was it with purebloods signing their full names? It's so formal. He reached for a piece of parchment before he remembered. He isn’t going to respond. It's for the better, he reminds himself. If they hate you it will make it all easier. He drops the letter on his desk and goes back to bed.
***
When he woke up for the third time, he decided it was finally time to go downstairs. When he made it to the sitting room it was just what he expected for a Sunday afternoon, is Father halfway to being drunk sitting in his reclining chair with a beer bottle in one hand and The Daily Profit in the other. Lyall looked up when he walked in, nodded at him and looked back at the paper. Remus went to make himself some toast, only barely noticing when Lyall got up to go to the bathroom, only really noticing because on his way he drops the Profit down on the table. With his body still in a great amount of pain and his bandages itching like crazy he sits down to eat. He glanced at the Profit seeing some headline about Banshees in Northern Ireland, but then did a double take. Not because of the headline, but because of the date. It's Monday, not Sunday. At that exact moment his Father came back into the sitting room.
“Hey, Dad?” Lyall looked over at him. “Why aren’t you at work right now, isn’t it Monday?” He had a sneaking suspicion, but really really did not want to believe it.
“Those old bats fired me. They never really did like me. First chance they got they kicked me right out.” He went to crack open another beer. Remus was seething.
“So what are we going to do? We need money, Dad. Why aren’t you going to look for work?” Remus kept his emotions in check no matter how hard it was. The moment he yelled his father won and this was something his Father needed to hear. “I can try to find a muggle job in town for the summer, but that won't last us long.”
“Remus, I have been taking care of you, when could I have looked for work, hmm, when I was patching you up, making sure you weren’t going to choke on your own blood?” Lyall was mad, really really mad. But Remus was seeing red.
“Were you taking care of me though? I distinctly remember waking up alone. Not seeing you once since I woke up. You never even came to check on me. Or at least give me a meal. So I do think you could’ve had the time to go look for a job.” This was it, this is what the whole summer has been building to, Remus can feel it. They are going to have this out right here right now and Remus is not going to hold back. “But I guess, who would hire a drunk, who can’t even take care of their own son?”
Remus actually thought his Father was going to hit him for a second. He has never seen this look in Lyalls eyes. It's murderous. Lyall takes a step towards him, slams his fist into the table hard enough to knock Remus’ plate off, and Remus is actually scared. “Go to your room. Now!” And it is left up to no debate. Remus turns and walks up the stairs shaking a little. He has hated his Father for a few years now. But he has never actually been truly scared of him before. When he gets to the top of the stairs he hears a bottle break and then another and the door shut, and all Remus can think is his Father's fist connecting with his face like it did that table.