Rage

December 15, 1971

It was five days before Christmas break, and Romulus was having an internal war. One part of his brain screamed, go home! Check on mam! Make sure she’s okay! The other part of his brain screamed, stay here! Mam can take care of herself! Here is safer, and warmer, and the moons are better than in the cellar chained up! 

He knew Remus was having the same dilemma, occasionally closing his eyes and willing himself to shut up, or he would catch him staring into space for to long, and his breath would start to get faster, and Romulus could hear his heartbeat speed up, and he would have to shake him out of it before he had a full fledged panic attack.

What was a mystery though, was how Sirius was acting. He would catch his friend staring off into space, or would catch him pacing like a caged animal. Sometimes, when Sirius was staring into space, he would start shaking and sweating, and Romulus knew the signs of an oncoming panic attack. Remus was usually the one to bring him back to the present, or sometimes James.

This was one thing Romulus knew: he would get some answers. 

He caught his friend after a transfiguration lesson, and cornered him.

“What's up, pen cachu? Something is wrong, I can tell. So, what is it?” he looked Sirius right in his eyes, daring him to run from this situation. Romulus knew he sounded demanding, but that was the only thing he knew. That was how he got answers. He was genuinely concerned for his friend, and wanted to know if there was something that he could do, he just didn’t know how to show it.

Sirius swallowed, looking up to meet Romulus’s eye, “Well, i-it’s just I’m scared, really. I mean, it will be fun to Reg again, my little brother, but I really don’t want to see…” he trailed off. And suddenly, it clicked. Sirius’s home life wasn’t any better than his own, and perhaps even worse. He felt his stomach sink to the floor. He wanted to do something, something to comfort Sirius.

“Hey, it’s okay. I mean, I think Remus and I are staying here, so if you want to stay at Hogwarts that would be fun. I’m guessing… something about your parents?” Sirius nodded shyly. “Sorry for being a dick. Maybe instead of thinking about me all the time I should think about you lot more,” he grinned as he saw the smallest twitch of Sirius’s lips in an upward direction.

“T-thanks. I mean, for not asking questions,” he looked up into Romulus’s eye. 

“No problem. You can always talk, if you want. Just know you're not alone, okay?” he saw Sirius’s eyes grow wide as he looked at Romulus.

“Your guys' scars? Is that where they're from?” he asked, looking at the scar on Romulus’s cheekbone. 

“Some of them. We also get in a lot of fights, so there’s that. And a few other random things. Like one time, Remus got stuck in the springs of a trampoline, and he tore the shite out of himself getting out. And one time I ran through a screen door and scratched my arms up real bad,” Sirius laughed a little as Romulus put on a dreamy face as though he were recounting the best memories of his life instead of exceedingly painful ones. 

“Wow, you guys have definitely grown in intelligence,” Romulus burst out laughing at Sirius’s comment, doubling over.

“Heh, not really. The other day I dared Remus to climb a tree and he fell out of it like, 20 feet in the air.”

Now it was Sirius’s turn to laugh. Romulus remembered that day quite well. The tree had a lot of snow on it, so he knew it was slick. He dared his brother to climb to the top. He had almost made it when his foot slipped. One hospital wing trip later, Remus was researching the Obliviate charm to get his brother to stop laughing at him. Of course, this was just an empty threat.

“Anyways, just always know that you can talk to someone, okay? It doesn’t have to be me, or Remus. It can be James or Pete or even McGonagall, for fuck sakes! Just… don’t think you’re alone, okay?” he glanced at Sirius, scared he had said the wrong thing. Contrary to popular belief, he was not the person to go to about these kinds of things. Remus had always been better at it. 

He was surprised to see Sirius smiling shyly at him, “Th-thank you. Really, that helps. I think I might go home to see Reg, at least. Make sure he’s okay. It’s horrible there.”

Romulus smiled back, and walked towards his next class. 

_

December 20, 1971

Romulus stood outside his horrible house with the smell of stale cigarettes and alcohol. It was now, he realised, that Hogwarts did feel more of a home than this awful place. It was small. One story, one bathroom, two bedrooms, and a living room/kitchen. There was a small square of grass behind it. A sorry excuse of a backyard. 

In the small patch of grass, there was a concrete square about three feet wide. To anyone else, it would seem so random, but to the Lupins, especially to the mother and the two sons, it was a place of pain and suffering. Well, not the square, but the bunker-like construction beneath it. It was soundproof, and spells made sure the boys were kept there all night once a month. 

Romulus bowed his head as he walked in with his brother and his mam. He instantly knew where his tad was, in the dingy recliner, covered in spilt alcohol and cigarette ash. He was unconscious, an alcohol induced coma. Romulus sighed quietly. His mother looked apologetic towards him, and nodded her head to the small hallway that led to both of their bedrooms. 

He nodded, and he and Remus made their way silently to their shared room. He opened the door as quietly as he could, wincing at the creaking screech that emitted from it. He went still, and listened, but his father did not stir. Romulus liked him better unconscious. He half hoped that one of these days, he wouldn’t wake up from it. 

Remus shuffled into the room next to him. It seemed so much smaller now that he had been sharing a rather large dorm with three other boys. He sighed again. He didn’t want to be here, but Sirius had convinced him to go. Not because they had talked about it, but because he was going home for someone, and Romulus knew it would be rather selfish if he didn’t see his mam. He loved her as much as he loved Remus, and loved her as much as he hated his tad. 

The door opened, and Romulus had a momentary panic, thinking it was his tad, but it was his mam, Hope Lupin.

“Hello, cariad,” she smiled softly, looking at them, (love).

“Hi, mam,” they replied in unison. 

“You guys didn’t need to come,” she spoke quietly, as though this would convince them to leave. Romulus hated himself for needing to think if he needed to come back or not. The answer was obvious. She had missed them so much… missed him. 

“Mam,” Remus said, “don’t be daft. Of course we would come. You have a bruise the colour of the sky at midnight on your cheek bone.”

“Ydy, mae Remus yn iawn,” Romulus said, (yes, Remus is right).

“Okay, caru,” she smiled, and hugged both of them, (loves).

“Mam?” Romulus asked. 

“Ei, cariad?” (yes love?)

“Be careful, please.”  

_

December 22, 1971

Romulus needed to get out. His head hurt, his side was bruised, his hands were cracked and bleeding, his thigh hurt. Last night, his tad and his friend, Celt, had been almost black out drunk. His tad usually got violent when he was drunk, and he had been around Celt enough to know he was loud and encouraging, but would never do the dirty work. Lyall had hit Hope again, and Remus freaked out again, but this time it was worse. Lyall had yelled at him about how he should respect him, like usual, and, of course, had hit Remus, like usual, and, like usual, Romulus was quick in case his brother needed help.

But something unusual happened. When his tad has slapped Remus across the face, he had watched something close behind his brother's eyes. Like a curtain being pulled, or something covering a light. Also, smells were intertwined with emotions. Fear was one of the stronger emotion smells, as well as love, and anger. He, Remus, or his mam would always smell a combination of the three facing off his father. 

Two of the three emotion scents left Remus that night, and only the anger was left. And for the first time in almost 12 years, Remus hit his tad back.

It only went downhill from there. Remus had landed a good punch right to the gut, and his tad was stunned for a moment, but soon anger of his own radiated off of him. Romulus could almost feel the heat coming off of both of them.  He swung hard for Remus’s skull, but Remus dodged. Remus could dodge all he wanted, but he couldn’t win a fight with a thirty seven year old man. Romulus knew he would need help.

Romulus lunged at his tad, startling him in his drunken state, and slammed his fist into his temple. Remus saw his chance and took it. He kicked his tad’s feet from underneath him, landing him flat on his back. Romulus kicked him in the side, and Remus stomped on his nose. 

Celt roared, and instantly started to yell at them. “HOW DARE YOU! HE IS YOUR TAD! YOU DO NOT DISRESPECT YOUR ELDERS, LET ALONE THE MAN OF YOUR FAMILY!” he screamed. Romulus winced, but didn’t regret his decision of helping his brother. Suddenly, he felt a hand gripping the back of his neck with an iron grip. He gasped in pain and surprise, and looked to see if his brother was getting the same treatment. He was. 

“You two are really going to regret that,” his tads voice was low and dangerous, and terrifyingly sober. He was suddenly slammed against the floor, he heard a thump beside him, and knew Remus was getting the same treatment. “Celt, hold this one,” he felt his tad kick him in the side, and felt the burly arms of his tad’s friend pin his arms to his back. He turned his head to watch his brother and tad, and immediately wished he hadn’t. 

His father had pulled out a car key from his pocket. The thing was, car keys were mostly made of nickel, aluminum, zinc, and, worst of all, silver. And to make it worse, silver was one of the most common metals in car keys. Romulus could smell it from here.

He pressed the key flat to Remus’s temple, and Remus screamed, thrashed, kicked, and clawed to get away, but he couldn’t escape his tad’s grasp. Romulus was thrashing just as much, trying to get to his brother. 

The metal of the car key was growing a bright hot orange against the skin of his twin. Finally, his father pulled away, and Remus stilled, panting with tears streaming down his pink cheeks. His tad then stuck the key against the top of Remus’s wrist, and more screams tore through the small house. His father got up, leaving Remus panting and crying on the floor. Romulus, for one hopeful second, thought that maybe he had left. But alas, he came back with the twins’ ideas of pure torture.

A pure silver pocket knife was held in his tad’s hand. The blade was about four inches long, and gleamed in the dim light of the living room. He walked over to Remus and said, “Just remember, you completely deserve this. Attacking me like that. Next, I’ll get your brother, but now it’s your turn. Maybe, if you weren’t a complete waste, a savage beast, and a pathetic excuse for a son, you wouldn’t be getting this,” and he stabbed the knife into Remus’s thigh.