Four To The End (prev Shifting Lines) - Book One (Marauder Era)

Chapter Fifty-Two - "They Love Me!"

Professor Dumbledore smiled benignly at Remus, as if trying to reassure him everything was fine. But everything was not fine. "Wh--what about my--my father?" Remus asked, trembling with fear. If anything bad had happened he suspected Dumbledore wouldn't be smiling like that, so it wasn't like that.

"Would it be all right if I looked into your memories?" Dumbledore asked.

"Isn't th--that what th-these lessons are about?" Remus couldn't help but quip back. "Fighting that?"

"Yes," chuckled the headmaster, "however I do wish to see for myself what Mythana has told me about. Think about Christmas."

Christmas? Remus shifted his weight and then thought back to the holidays. Dumbledore slid easily into his head merely by eye contact. Once those icy blue eyes locked onto Remus, he found Christmas drifting through his head. Reading by the fireplace, opening presents, baking cookies...

Then they were in his living room, with Professor McGonagall. Remus watched himself fetch the container of cookies. He saw McGonagall's look of surprise, and then her smile as she touched his shoulder. Beyond them, Lyall stood there looking furious. A look that disappeared when McGonagall turned to say goodbye.

Once she was gone and Remus tried to return to his room, he watched as his father pulled back his hand to slap Remus. "You're not supposed to be so--so--casual with people!" he hissed then grabbed Remus by the shoulders, shaking him. "You understand?!"

"I'm s-s-s-sorry! She--sh--she knows--so--"

"I don't care! It. Isn't. Safe. Say it!"

Remus was then yanked out of the memory as Dumbledore broke contact. He fell back against the couch, breathing hard, head pounding since he had automatically tried fighting, but Dumbledore was definitely stronger than Fawley.

"You saw it?" Fawley asked.

"Yes," Dumbledore answered, then bent in to Remus. "Has your father ever done that before?"

Remus clutched his head as the pain grew worse. "Done wh--what?"

"Hit you."

That's what this is about? Remus looked at him, then Fawley, then back at Dumbledore. "Why?"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows high. "Answer the question, Remus."

It wasn't a request, it was a command. But Remus didn't want to answer. He didn't like this. He was tired and in pain, and couldn't understand why they seemed so--so--upset about the whole thing. "What about m-my Occlumency l--lesson?"

"Remus, please," whispered Fawley, reaching out for him. He drew away from her, and her hand fell to her lap.

"What d--does it matter?" Remus scooted even farther back, into the corner of the couch, not far enough. He wanted to run from the room. He felt sick and wormy and hot and wanted to cry and scream, and he didn't even know why. "D--Dad's just worried about me, that's all."

"Has he ever hit you before?" Dumbledore asked again.

"No," Remus lied.

"You said--" Fawley started, but Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"Remus, please. You're not in any trouble."

Yes I am, he thought. I am because neither of you understand! He didn't know what to say. He thought if he told the truth, something bad would happen. Would they try talking to his father? That would just make his father feel bad, and he didn't want that. His dad never really meant anything by it. Just to reinforce lessons that Remus needed to know. Like what happened at Christmas, being so casual like that, he had forgotten, and now he wouldn't again. He knew for a fact many people spanked their kids (at least in books they did, sometimes). If that was all right, there was no difference, was there? It was all the same, just discipline.