PART I: REMUS
It's always a bit awkward. Being a werewolf. Especially when you're a guest in someone's home and also about to transform into a monster. There's no polite way for someone to ask if they can please lock you in their basement now. Though the Potter's certainly try their best.
"You sure you don't want anything to eat?" James's mum asks as she places a set of folded sheets on the bed they've brought down for him. All the other furniture has been removed, but despite that the Potter's still have the nicest basement Remus has ever seen. Warm butter coloured walls, hardwood floors, exposed brick, a fireplace—currently disconnected from the Floo network and unlit—it's nothing like his basement back home. This room was made for games and movie nights and sleepovers. It makes Remus fidget. More acutely aware of how much of an imposition he's being. He should have gone home. Should have dealt with this himself.
"Remus?"
He looks up, finding Euphemia still standing by the bed, concern clear in her eyes even when she smiles at him.
"You okay kiddo?"
He nods stiffly, not bothering to bring up the aching in his bones or his head or the nausea that hasn't subsided since this morning. She knows all that already. Besides, it's not really what she's asking.
"I'm worried about the walls," Remus finally forces himself to say, hands shoved in the pouch at the front of his hoodie, eyes not meeting her's.
A wrinkle appears between her eyes. "The walls?"
"It'll—" he coughs. "I mean I'll," lets not shy away from it now Remus. "I'll scratch them up."
She arches her brow, looking a bit bemused. "Don't worry, honestly, it doesn't matter."
Remus swallows, throat dry, eyes trailing around the room, spotting all the places that photos and paintings have been removed. Pictures of James practically plaster the walls in this house. Remus doesn't know if his parents ever took any family photos. If they did they certainly never hung them up.
"There so nice though," he says eventually. Pathetically.
Euphemia makes a pitying noise that has Remus flinching. "Oh love," she's gentle when she wraps her arm around him, when she presses a kiss to the top of his head.
"Not as nice as you," she says, letting him go after a moment. "Besides, a wave of my wand and it'll all be good as new anyway, one of the many perks of being a witch," she gives him a wink.
Remus isn't sure if she's waiting for a response but he can't quite manage one.
"You're sure there's nothing else you need?" she asks eventually, standing by the bottom of the stairs.
He shakes his head. "No, thank you."
"Well alright then, we'll see you in the morning," she smiles. "Mimi's making pancakes." Remus does his best to smile back, he's not sure how well he manages it.
After she leaves he spends a long time just staring at the bed on the other side of the room, trying to imagine what he'd be doing tonight if he was normal. He'd probably be upstairs with James, Sirius and Peter, playing exploding snaps or chess. The other night, after Peter left and James fell asleep, Sirius dragged Remus outside and convinced him to ride on the back of his broom. Remus isn't overly fond of flying, but with Sirius's warm body pressed to his chest and the star filled sky wrapped around them, he couldn't help enjoying it at least a little. Afterward, they'd crawled back into bed, smelling like winter and laughter, and kissed until they'd fallen asleep.
He brings his hand to his chest like the ache there is a physical thing. After a few more seconds of sulking he sighs, walking over to the wall and sitting down on the ground, ignoring the bed. It reminds him too much of the shack. Maybe that should be comforting but it isn't. He folds his arms over his knees and rests his forehead on top...waiting.
