𝗰𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗸, remus lupin

˗ˋ 75

CHAPTER SEVENTY FIVE
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-: sixth year :-

── IN WHICH SHE LENDS 
A COMFORTING HAND

. . .

Remus wasn't one for a scene. It had been his philosphy for long before meeting Pandora and the entirety of his time knowing her. He liked to de-escalate scenes, not make all much of a deal of things, not draw too much attention - that was for Sirius and James to take and lap up like they needed nothing else to live. 

Which was why he waited for his mother to stand from the living room and make her way to the kitchen to top up her wine from the bottle of red Euphemia has opened after the meal to follow after her and ask what the hell was going on. 

Pandora had watched him go, watched from Sirius's begrudging side as she opened the present of Euphemia had gifted to her - it was a pretty little necklace that seemed to go quite nicely with her slowly growing collection of clothing that was anything other thank black (people tended to gift clothes a lot, and Euphemia had also invited her to look through the attic the next day at some of the clothes she had from her family and her own old collection). She watched as Lyall looked up from his conversation with Mr Pettigrew and noticed both his son and wife missing and excused himself hastily.

And she watched as Mrs Lupin, nose slightly red and eyes looking a little more glassy as they reflected the fire, and Mr Lupin with his arm around her shoulder and murmuring something in her ear as they sat down together. She didn't see Remus follow them back in.

Perhaps he had gone to the toilet, or was getting his own drink, but neither of the conclusions that Pandora had come to when she didn't see the familiar, scarred face of the werewolf returning to the warmth of the living room sometime later made any sense. And Pandora was... worried. 

She often was, now. She found herself caring more for what he was feeling and thinking and often read his thoughts without hardly even thinking about it - much to her own dismay, as she knew how he didn't like it. It seemed, for that reason, that she got to her feet moments later and informed those who asked (James) that she was going to the toilet. Stocking-clad feet padded across the dimly lit carpets of the hallway, peering through open doorways into dark rooms and not seeing him as she passed.

However, when she crossed the tiles of the kitchen, her eyes landed on a tuft of brown hair a short distance from window in the door. It glowed golden in the light of the lamp flickering on and off outside, remnants of snow slush around his feet.

Pandora had a pair of shoes and coat summoned in an instance, wrapped around her by butterflies as she held her arms up high. Gloves were pulled up over her fingers and she clutched at the comfort they gave her as she reached to open the door and stepped outside, only her face hit by the cold air of December 25th. He didn't hear her immediately, but when she pushed the door closed behind her and it clicked he did, turning in his seat to face her.

"Hi." He forced a smile, although she had half expected him to have a look of disappointment on his face. But never Remus, instead he smiled and inched to the right so he wasn't in the middle of the bench and used the edge of his sleeve to wipe the damp from where she could join in. 

Pandora stepped forward, her feet placed in the remnants of his own footprints before sitting beside him, legs brushing against each other as she did so. "Is something the matter?" She asked, attempting to sound as nice as possible, although she thought she had perhaps chosen the wrong words; Pandora had never comforted someone before, and it was evident without her looking into Remus's thoughts that he was in need of it. 

He didn't seem particularly disconcerted to divulging the news with her. "My mum... had some bad news." He smiled at her, out of courtesy. "She's sick, a muggle illness - well, a condition really... cancer."

Pandora blinked. "What is that?" She asked. 

"I'm not entirely sure, actually." Remus replied, a considerably self-depricating chuckle following at his own ignorance. "There are... cells in our body, and they divide at rapid pace and there's something about a tumour and... well, I don't know, really."

"I see." Pandora nodded; it made even less sense to her, but it need not. "Is this.. condition... treatable?" 

He looked away from her, his elbows balanced on his knees as he looked out ino the gloom of the Potters' garden at night. "Supposedly." His chin rested on his hand, fingers muffling his words. "There are ways... but my mum's tumour was found too late... there's something about stages and she's on the last one." 

"Oh." Pandora breathed out. "I assume that's the worst one."  

He didn't reply, just let his chin slip from his palm and his head fall forwards, running his hands through his hair. It was eerily prophetic; he had, for years, pretended to visit his ill mother on the night of every full moon until his secret had been discovered. But now Hope Lupin was truly ill and he had no idea what to do, no idea how to deal with it and... no idea if by the time next Christmas came around, they would be able to spend it together in the same way. 

"I see." She swallowed, clear realisation he was in need of some kind of comfort and the arm tucked between herself and Remus extracting itself and... hovered, over his back. Something was stopping her from committing, forcing her to hesitate. "That is... awful." She took a deep breath in, and relaxed. "I'm so sorry." She added, repeating only what she had heard and seen in muggle works, and as she breathed out, her arm came down to rest, cold upon his back. 

And they sat in the cold of the night, silent. 

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