#remus lupin needs therapy

[loonyloopylupin96]

My favourite part about this untitled Remus-therapy fic I'm writing (about 1/3 written now) is that I haven't planned what's coming up in the sessions themselves. I just have to sit there and imagine it's really happening.

I also think we made good progress in today's session and I'm proud of him.

[rose-leviosa]

Penance, Year Four - Chapter Twelve - The Wedding, Part Four 

Snippet

CW: pregnancy loss, mention of suicide

Bill

He slipped from his old bedroom, taking care not to wake Victoire.

It had been a long day. A long week, really. Wedding preparations had consumed the whole family, each conversation centering on floral deliveries and table arrangements and how they planned to send off the couple at the end of the night.

It had awoken something in Fleur - a sort of mourning for their wedding. For the honeymoon spent in hiding. For the simple newlywed days they would never have together. For the anniversaries forever tainted. For the blood that had stained her white dress.

For the blood that had run down her legs three days ago. For the baby they had been planning to tell Bill's parents about the next day. The one they'd never meet.

She barely made it through dinner and speeches before she was trembling, panic gripping her as if she could feel the enemy approaching. Bill had guided her away, murmuring reassurances in her ear as he led her with a gentle hand on her waist, Victoire perched on his hip.

He had spent the better part of the night holding Fleur as she wept against his chest, her quiet sobs muffled against his shoulder. Victoire lay stretched out by his side, blissfully unaware of her mother's tears.

They had dozed sleepily, listening to the joyful sounds drifting from the marquee. He had run his fingers through her hair and she had kissed his battle scars. They had held each other, crying softly together over everyone and everything they had lost.

Now, in the dimly lit kitchen, he stood by the hob, allowing the kettle to heat without magic. He didn't mind waiting.

He ran a hand through his hair, watching the kettle as if it held some answers.

Behind him, the kitchen door clicked opened. He turned to see Remus stumbling over the threshold, gripping the doorframe for balance. He dropped his head and let out a long breath as he braced himself for the trek up the stairs.

“Fun night?” Bill quipped, smiling despite his mournful exhaustion. Remus squinted at him, swaying slightly.

“If you say so,” he replied, his mouth quirking wryly. He dropped into the nearest chair, propping his elbows on the table. He lowered his head to his hands, looking like he was trying to stop the room from spinning.

“Tea?” Bill offered, glad for the distraction. “I'm making chamomile for Fleur.” Remus shook his head with a vague groan, his face still buried behind his long fingers.

Bill poured two cups of the herbal tea, leaving them to steep on the counter. He slid into the seat across from Remus, looking at the older man thoughtfully.

“You look like you could use something stronger than tea,” Bill said, his tone gentle but with a slight edge of concern.

Remus gave a short, bitter laugh. “I’ve had enough of that for one night.”

Bill smirked. “I was referring to an emetic potion,” he said smugly. Remus snorted behind his hands, giggling drunkenly.

“I'd deserve it,” he said with a laugh in his voice. Bill smiled, though part of him thought it might actually be a good idea.

Remus’ laughter died, his shoulders drooping as his giddiness faded. Outside, the music thrummed, bursts of laughter cutting through the rumble. Bill's smile faltered.

“How was the reception?” he asked, unable to keep a note of sadness from his voice. He wished he had seen the newlyweds dance.

Remus frowned behind his hands. He was silent for a moment before lifting his head to look blearily at Bill.

“I heard Fleur crying earlier,” he said unexpectedly, sounding as though he was making some sort of confession. Bill was a bit taken aback, but he nodded sadly. There seemed no point denying it.

“Is she okay?” Remus rasped, looking genuinely concerned. Bill smiled sadly.

“She will be,” he sighed, leaning against the counter. “She's just -” He didn't want to use the word ‘traumatized,’ but he was at a loss for a better word.

“Today just brought up a lot of bad memories,” he said simply. He didn't mention the nightmares that had plagued her the past few weeks, the teary episodes that she couldn't even explain to herself.

Remus nodded, his gaze distant. "That's understandable," he muttered quietly, his voice thick with understanding. He seemed to curl into himself as he spoke, the weight of his own losses pressing down on him again. He stared at his ring with hard eyes, spinning it around his finger.

Looking as though he had been gripped by a sudden thought, he turned his face back up to Bill, his face lined with compassion.

“Are you okay?”

Bill wasn't sure why the question caught him so off-guard. Perhaps because he wasn't sure of the answer. He thought for a moment before sighing.

“I will be.”

Remus nodded knowingly, tapping his fingertips together nervously, visibly searching his mind for a new subject.

“Victoire was very cute today,” he said lamely. Bill smiled, grateful for the shift in topic.

"Yeah, she's got a way of stealing the spotlight. Takes after her mum, I think." He chuckled softly and Remus smiled fondly.

“I'm afraid Teddy might try to steal some of that spotlight," Remus said, a small laugh escaping him despite the heaviness in his voice. “He's a bit of a glutton for attention.”

Bill chuckled. “They're quite the pair,” he said fondly, leaning back in his chair. “Who knows - in twenty years or so, we might be sitting here celebrating their wedding!” he joked, smiling at the notion. Remus returned the smile but his eyes were mournful. He dropped his gaze back to his hands.

“I doubt I'll still be around by then.”

Bill's smile faltered, his chest tightening. "Don't say that," he said, more forcefully than he intended.

Remus huffed a dry laugh, shaking his head and forcing his face into a self-deprecating smile.

"Sorry, ignore me - I'm just drunk." His fingers twisted the wedding band on his left hand, the gold catching the dim candlelight. Something flashed across his face for the briefest moment, but Bill recognized it right away. Fear.

He leaned forward. “Er - you're not, you know…” Remus frowned in confusion. Bill sighed, hesitant to voice the question. “You're not thinking of -”

Realization dawned on Remus’ face and he shook his head reassuringly. “No - I'm actually pretty good these days.” His face became almost comically earnest as Bill gave him a doubtful look. He sighed and rolled his eyes. “This hasn't been my best day,” he admitted. “But I really am doing better.”

Bill nodded, choosing to believe him. “I'm really glad to hear that,” he said. “But what did you mean -” He dropped his voice, as if they might be overheard. “You're not sick, are you?”

Remus hesitated a moment before cracking a smile. “Not unless you count the blood curse,” he laughed, rising to his feet suddenly and shuffling towards the door. Bill raised his eyebrows, watching Remus over his shoulder.

“Going to bed?” he chuckled, wondering if Remus realized he had just left in the middle of their conversation. Remus reached out a hand to steady himself against the door to the den.

“Yeah,” he mumbled absently, as if the weight of the night had finally caught up with him. There was a thoughtful pause before he took a sharp breath.

“Hey,” Remus said, turning to face Bill again, his face full of compassion. “I'm sorry today was so hard for you.”

Bill smiled in sad gratitude. He was debating whether to return the sentiment when, to his surprise, Remus opened his arms and stepped forward.

He didn't think he had ever seen Remus reach out to hug anyone, excepting when Teddy was born. He didn't seem to know quite what to do with his arms, though that could very well have been the alcohol.

Bill's mouth twitched as he stood and stepped into the offer of comfort, returning the gentle pat on the back. He could smell the party on Remus’ shirt - that indescribable scent of floor polish and alcohol and warm bodies that hung in the air as everyone celebrated.

Remus broke the hug, stepping back and making a face like he had surprised himself. He offered Bill a final smile that was somehow both kind and uncomfortable.

“Goodnight, Bill.”

He clapped Bill's shoulder, turning on his heel to begin his climb up the stairs.

[roseleviosaoriginal]

The Promise

This is a companion piece to Chapter 27 ("Small Talk") of Penance - Year One, but can be read as a stand-alone.

The room was spinning.

Faces, familiar but unplaceable, floated in and out of his vision. Some of them spoke to him but their words became jumbled somewhere between his ears and his addled brain.

He stood in the back of the crowded little chapel, swaying on unsteady legs and trying to look somewhat sober. Two coffins rested at the front of the church, their lids flung open, a long line of mourners queued to say final farewells.

A small, cool hand grasped his own and he did not resist as it pulled him to a side room.

Alice gently eased him down onto a low sofa and Frank pressed a steaming cup of coffee to his reluctant lips. Remus shook his head, immediately regretting doing so as the world tilted in a nauseating rush.

“Come on, mate,” Frank said in a voice that made Remus want to punch him in the face. He would have shouted not to patronize him if he weren't afraid of being sick if he opened his mouth.

Alice's chilled fingers brushed the hair from his eyes, relieving some of the heat that he had not realized had built in his face.

“Please, Remus. For James and Lily, alright? They wouldn't want you to be like this.” Her voice was teary and something about her tone, more so than her words, caused him to crack open his lips just enough to permit Frank to tip the bitter coffee into his mouth.

“That's it,” Frank said, sounding again as though he was talking to his baby.

When he finished the coffee, Alice encouraged lukewarm water down Remus’ throat. With each passing moment, he became more aware of himself and the scene around him. They were in some sort of parlor - perhaps for the vicar between services - where a small table had been set with hot beverages and paper cups. The most ugly set of curtains he had ever seen hung from the only window.

He tried to focus his eyes on Alice but he had to turn away. He couldn't bear the pity he saw etched into her round face.

“Drink up,” Frank said encouragingly. Remus’ temper flared.

Continued...

[loonyloopylupin96]

~written October 31, 1981

Lily, talking to the group: Don’t add to the population, don’t subtract from the population. Don’t drink if you’re underage, and don’t apprate if you’re drunk. Stay out of the morgue, the Profit, and Azkaban.

Sirius, whispering: Well there go our plans for the night

Remus: Which part?

James: All of it

[tootiredtobenice]

If you know what we are talking about, congratulations, you need to go to therapy

(the photo is not mine, belonging to @/www.y0urmomsgf.com on tiktok)

[caspervi]

Wolfstar for the soul

[losver07]

hey, pro tip! if you ever need to start crying, just think about grant chapman!

think about how one of the first things he told remus is "everyone gets sick of me in the end" and how he dedicated 20 years of his life to the only person he had ever had a true bond with, both romantic and platonic. think about how he said remus was "too bloody good for him by half" and probably always feared he was going to be put aside as soon as someone better appeared on scene, and how, when he finally got over that fear, sirius appeared and he just had to go, because it was happening at last, he was not good enough to compete with love, even though he tried.

and he tried a lot.

then reread chapter 186 of atyd and there you go! you are bawling your eyes out! well done!

[loonyloopylupin96]

Remus, sweet boy. We'll get you there!

@Sirius Black

[wolfstardaughter-jj]

Remus who hasn't slept in days: WHY CANT I SOLVE THIS EQUATION?!

Sirius, who's very concerned: have you ever considered sleeping?

Remus, glares: have you ever considered therapy?

James and Peter: *bring out the popcorn*

Peter: oh he did not just go there.

James: oh he did.

Sirius: ALL OF US NEEDS THERAPY! *Points at everyone*

[brigid-faye]

Wolfstar/marauders Drabble

(not part of something bigger, forgive me, this is as much teenage headspace as I can handle)

James is just barely 17 and two of his best friends have been acting weird, so he does something very stupid. As the moon is setting, he turns back into himself and - at a distance - follows the wolf and the dog up to the second floor of the shrieking shack. The rat squeals warnings; James ignores him and tip toes up the stairs.

Those two have always done this - Padfoot always chases Moony into an upstairs room to turn back, where Prongs (too big) and Wormtail (too small) can’t follow.

Despite what Lily says, James isn’t a complete idiot. He crouches in silence at the far end of the second floor hall until Remus’ cries of pain end. It sounds much worse to his human ears than it does to his animagus ones.

He’s starting to feel ill, but curiosity wins out. He sneaks quietly to the half open door and peaks inside.

Remus is collapsed on the floor, unconscious. Sirius is on the floor beside him, gingerly tucking an old blanket over him. Sirius is on his side, up on one elbow; Remus’ head is on his forearm.

James can’t think. He’d always imagined Remus was the one who wrapped himself up before James and Peter reached them.

James had guessed that something was going on with these two. The way they look at each other, the times they disappear, the intensity of their fall out the year before…

But he hadn’t expected this. They are teenagers; he’s expecting a crush. The aching tenderness in Sirius’ face right now reminds James of his parents, that kind of expansive, lived-in love he thinks he’d be lucky to grow into in a couple decades, not now.

James holds his breath and backs away. He goes back downstairs and says nothing to Peter, and pretends to be surprised six month later when Sirius comes to him terrified and defiant, and says he has something to tell him.

[loonyloopylupin96]

omg

happy I-seem-to-have-written-30k-words day!

four chapters left to write (although I have a tendency to write in two at a time depending upon how I'm feeling)

this is wild

I'm so excited to eventually share this

[loonyloopylupin96]

Let's be real - canon Remus needs to go to therapy too

Remus, I like.

Fanon Remus, I dislike. Like so much, that guy really sucks. Needs to go to therapy, counseling, and anger management.

~

[rose-leviosa]

Remus Lupin is a Shithead Who Needs to Get Slapped

Snippet

There once was a shithead named Remus John Lupin.

Yes, ‘shithead’ may seem like a rather strong word to use, but he called himself that all the time, so he probably wouldn't mind.

As I was saying, Remus was a shithead.

He was a lovely man, of course. Very friendly. Very nice. Even a little funny if you enjoy the whole ‘dry British humor’ thing. He was the type of man you couldn't help but like.

Except for when he was being a shithead.

Which he was, on the day our story takes place.

*

Elaine Braverman waved goodbye to the receptionist in the Ministry-run therapy office where she worked. She hurried down the echoing stairwell, twisting her hair into a bun. She was beyond ready to go home.

It was hotter than Merlin's balls when she stepped onto the city pavement, immediately wincing at the heavy smog that assaulted her nose.

She squinted against the sun, which hung low and bright in the sky as she trudged to the back alley where she could apparate home, safe from curious eyes.

It had been a long day. Tuesdays usually were. Through some cruel trick of fate - or, rather, scheduling - she had ended up with all of her most difficult clients on the same day. Marissa with her frequent flashbacks to torture from the Carrows. Alaric, who she feared would never recover from seeing his family murdered before his eyes. And Neville - well, he was still trying to untangle himself from the war.

And, of course, Remus. Remus, who she wanted to strangle as much as she wanted to help. Remus, who, despite his efforts, seemed incapable of fully opening up. Remus, who lied and dodged and redirected at every opportunity. Remus, who left her feeling drained every week.

She looked up and down the alley, confirming she was alone before turning on her heel. With a dizzying twist, she felt herself tear away from the dingy alley, only to appear a moment later in a nearly identical one. The faded brick facade of the building was marred by an illegible bit of bright blue graffiti. It was a welcome sight - she was home.

*

The climb up the stairs to her flat felt longer than usual, the summer heat filling the stairwell with stale, humid air.

She sighed in relief as she threw open the door to the flat, cool air blasting her in the face, chilling the sweat on her skin.

“You look like hell.” Elaine smiled at the comment as she dropped her bag by the door. She gave Louise a smirk before planting a small kiss on her lips.

“Long day,” she sighed, sinking into the couch. Louise eyed her knowingly.

“Be right back,” she announced before slipping into the kitchen. Elaine closed her eyes for a moment, trying to pull her mind away from work.

Louise reappeared, holding out an overly full glass of red wine.

“Medicine for the good doctor,” she said in a posh voice. Elaine rolled her eyes, but she accepted the glass eagerly before patting the spot next to her, inviting Louise for a cuddle.

She took an appreciative sip from her glass, looking up at Louise through her lashes (yes I know everyone hates this phrase, but bear with me).

Sighing with satisfaction, she set the glass on the table, smiling gratefully.

“Thanks, I needed that,” she said, reaching out a hand. Louise shook her head.

“You always do on Tuesdays,” she smirked knowingly. Elaine snorted and rolled her eyes.

“I tell you, I think my last client might actually be the death of me,” she laughed tiredly, shaking her head. “I swear, some days I just want to smack him!”

Louise chuckled, taking a sip from Elaine's glass. “I keep telling you, you need to consider dumping him as a client - he's making you miserable.”

Elaine couldn't pretend she hadn't considered it. Dreamed of it, even (just once, but it was still weird). It would make her job significantly easier. She'd probably sleep better. She would definitely spend less time wanting to rip her hair out.

Still, she shook her head.

“I can't do that. I just know that if I give up on him now, he'll never agree to see anyone else.”

She realized it wasn't a lie, but it wouldn't matter either way. She wished she could say the real reason why she couldn't pass him off to a colleague.

“He's a werewolf - I was the only one willing to see him.”

“Okay, but that would be his decision,” Louise pointed out. Normally, Elaine would agree, but Remus Lupin wasn't a normal case.

“He needs to stay in therapy,” she said plainly, ready to drop the subject. Louise raised her eyebrows, her mouth slanting distastefully.

“Why do you keep putting yourself through this? If he won’t be honest with you, if he won’t actually let you help him, then what’s the point?”

Elaine sighed, rubbing her eyes. “Because he does try. In his own stubborn, infuriating way, he does try. And if I let him go, I don’t think he’ll try with anyone else.”

Louise looked like she had something nasty to say, but she merely tilted her head, clearly growing weary of the subject. “It's up to you. I just don't see why you're so worried about him staying in therapy if he refuses to talk.”

Elaine shook her head, holding her hands open as if the words she sought might plop into her palm. She gave Louise a meaningful look.

“Because he's the most fucked up person I've ever met.”

*

The wine was certainly doing its job by the time Elaine flopped into bed with all the grace of a merperson on land (which, if you have never seen it, is a rather pathetic sight).

She groaned tiredly, kicking the duvet from the bed so she could crawl under the thin, cool sheets, eager to rest. Louise was still puttering around the flat, the distant clatter of activity somehow soothing to Elaine as she found herself slipping off to sleep, cradled by her pillow and the gentle sway from the wine.

*

She opened her eyes, feeling rather fuzzy as she tried to find her bearings. She was vaguely aware that she was dreaming, but she was still surprised to find herself standing in the drab little sitting room of Remus’ cottage, surrounded by a large crowd of people.

No one seemed to be particularly happy, but there was a buzz of something close to excitement in the air, as if everyone in the room had been awaiting this moment for a long time.

Elaine looked around, trying to figure out what was going on, when her eyes fell on Remus, seated in a chair by the fire, looking wholly unconcerned by the people milling about his house.

She realized that everyone around her seemed to be forming a queue and, seeing as Elaine was British, she immediately followed suit.

She stood behind a familiar figure, complete with her tight bun and stately witch's hat, though she couldn't understand why her old Transfiguration teacher was in this particular dream. As she peered down the line, she realized she recognized a fair number of people ahead of her. Molly Weasley. Madam Pomfrey. The Minister.

She jumped as a sharp crack sounded over the hum of voices. She could hear that whoever was at the front of the line was shouting, but she couldn't make out the words.

She craned her neck further and saw that Remus was still seated, his hands braced on his knees, cheek flaring red from where the stranger's hand had struck him. He seemed completely unaffected by the hit or the angry words flying at him, mixed with spittle that peppered his face.

Elaine straightened, trying not to get too excited. She was a professional. She shouldn't want to take advantage of the opportunity to slap her worst client. Shouldn't be planning what she'd say to him when she reached the front of the line. But this was a dream, so she reasoned it wouldn't count. She was in the clear.

The line continued to move forward slowly, the sounds of hands meeting Remus’ cheek punctuating the hum of angry mutterings and frustrated shouts.

She recognized a man who looked remarkably like Remus, albeit thirty years older, rolling up his sleeves. He stepped up to his son, his eyes filled with pain, before smacking him hard across the face. Remus’ expression remained infuriatingly calm, even as a second strike landed on his red cheek.

Elaine swallowed hard, suddenly less sure of herself.

She glanced around, watching the others in the queue. Some of them looked grim and determined. Others looked satisfied, as if each slap brought them some sort of justice. A few even looked guilty, their hands shaking after they delivered their strike. Molly Weasley planted a soothing kiss on his swollen cheek after beating him around the head a few times.

Remus, however, did not react. He sat still, eyes forward, expression passive. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t protest. Didn’t wipe away the spit on his face.

He just took it.

The line moved forward and, suddenly, McGonagall was stepping up. Elaine expected her to hesitate, to scold the others, but instead, she drew back her hand and struck Remus with a sharp, practiced slap. Her lips curled with disapproval, but she said nothing as she stepped away.

Elaine’s stomach twisted.

It was her turn.

She stepped forward. The firelight flickered in Remus’ eyes as he looked up at her.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t plead. Didn’t ask why she was there. He just waited.

Elaine's fingers twitched. It was wrong, she told herself. He was her patient. He was damaged. He needed patience. Care. Understanding.

He needs a fucking smack upside the head.

“How are you, Remus?” she asked in her therapist voice (you know the one - deep, soft, soothing). She watched his eyes as they swiveled in search of a reply.

I swear to Circe, if he lies -

“I'm fine,” he said pleasantly, smiling despite the bruise spreading across his face.

SMACK!

Elaine’s hand stung with the force of the strike, the echo of her palm meeting his cheek reverberating in her mind as much as it did through the room. Time seemed to slow and, for a moment, the world outside of Remus and his weary, accepting gaze disappeared.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. He just stared at her, his expression eerily calm. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t surprised. He simply accepted it.

Elaine’s breath came shallow, her fingers still tingling. She had wanted to do that for so long. But now that she had, the satisfaction she expected didn’t come. Instead, an awful weight settled in her chest.

She looked around, suddenly aware of how surreal the scene was. Of the way the queue stretched endlessly behind her. Of the way people stepped forward, delivered their strike, and then simply left, as if their business was done.

And of the way Remus sat through it all, neither resisting nor defending himself.

Just taking it.

Her stomach churned.

"This isn't right," she murmured, more to herself than to him.

Remus tilted his head, studying her with quiet curiosity. “Why not?” he asked mildly, as if they discussing the weather.

Elaine opened her mouth, but no words came.

Because he thinks he deserves it.

Her fists clenched.

The queue behind her murmured with impatience, shifting and rustling like a restless tide, waiting for their turn. But Elaine didn’t move.

Remus was still watching her, that same eerily placid expression on his face, like a man resigned to his fate. Like a man who had decided, long ago, that this was simply the way of things.

That pain was a currency he owed.

Elaine wanted to shake him. To shout at him. To demand he fight back, argue, do something.

Instead, she took a slow step closer, lowering her voice.

"Remus," she said, forcing him to look at her. "What do you think happens when the line runs out?"

Something flickered in his expression. "I suppose," he said after a beat, voice mild. "I get up and go on with my day."

Elaine’s nails bit into her palm.

"Like nothing happened?"

He shrugged, like it didn’t matter. Like he didn’t matter. "Like nothing happened.

The crowd shifted, impatient.

Elaine exhaled sharply, stepping even closer, close enough to see the fine lines of exhaustion around his eyes.

"You want this, don't you?" she accused in a low, furious whisper. "You think you deserve this."

Remus didn't answer. He simply stared into her eyes, giving nothing away.

The dream twisted. The walls of the cottage stretched, darkened. The fire at his back flickered ominously. The line of people blurred into shadowy figures, their murmurs morphing into an eerie, wordless hum.

Elaine's stomach lurched.

She turned to the crowd and - in the way of dreams - she suddenly knew.

This wasn't just a line of people angry with Remus. This was every grudge he had ever held against himself, every mistake, every failing, every sin he believed he had committed, come to exact their due.

What does it mean that I'm here?

She turned back to Remus, shaking her head. "You stupid, stubborn, impossible man," she hissed, pointing to the queue behind her. “You're addicted to this, aren't you?”

Remus gave a small, humorless chuckle. "Wouldn't be the worst thing I've been addicted to," he smirked.

Elaine's jaw tightened. "That's not funny."

His smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Isn't it?”

The fire flared higher. The figures in the queue wavered, flickering between familiar faces and faceless shapes.

Elaine swallowed hard. "You can't punish yourself into being a better person, Remus," she said, her voice quieter, pleading. "It doesn't work that way."

Remus, for the first time, looked uncertain, seeming to deflate slightly. His smile faltered and something in his eyes shifted. He opened his mouth, about to speak -

The dream shattered.

Elaine gasped awake, heart hammering, breath caught in her throat.

The room was dark. The sheets tangled around her legs. Her head ached, and her hand still stung, like she'd really struck him.

A groggy voice murmured beside her. "'Nother nightmare?"

Elaine pressed a shaking hand over her face. "No, just weird," she muttered.

Louise shifted, blinking blearily at her. "S'it about work?"

Elaine let out a quiet, exhausted laugh.

"Yeah," she admitted. "Yeah."

Louise grumbled something unintelligible before flopping an arm over Elaine's waist, pulling her close.

"You need drop that patient."

Elaine huffed a tired sigh, settling back against the pillow.

"I can’t," she whispered into the dark.

He needs me.

[roseleviosaoriginal]

Penance, Chapter Twenty-Four - Elaine

Snippet

The man could not have looked more uncomfortable if he had tried. She could always tell which patients came to her under pressure from family and friends, and Remus Lupin was firmly in that category.  

He sat, fiddling anxiously with his sleeve, appearing to be reading the titles of the volumes on her bookshelf.  

“Hello Mr. Lupin. May I call you Remus?” He nodded politely, if distractedly.  

“My name is Elaine, it is lovely to meet you.” She offered her hand, which he shook with some trepidation.  

“I understand that therapy is a new concept for many wizards. Do you have a general idea of what we will be doing in our time together?”  

He nodded, then spoke in a hoarse voice. “Yes. Yes, I understand the concept.”  

“Excellent. I would like to start with getting an idea of what brought you here, and then get a bit of a background. Is that okay with you?” He nodded again, now looking as though he was counting the stone blocks in the ceiling.  

She waited patiently for him to begin. It took several seconds for him to realize he was expected to start talking.  

“Yes, well. I am here because Minister Shacklebolt told me to.” His words were snappish, and he must have realized it because he immediately looked at her apologetically. “I am terribly sorry. I would be lying if I said I was here of my own accord, but that is hardly your fault.” She took a note on his overly formal way of speaking and quick apology.  

“Yes. Do you know why Minister Shacklebolt asked you to come here?”  

Remus look away again and muttered what sounded like “ he didn't ask.

[messervixen]

Just listened to the lyrics specifically of Bohemian Rhapsody and 0/10 would not recommend. Absolutely awful. If you kin Sirius Black AT ALL do yourself a favor and never go with 500 feet of that song because it is rough. TCOPTP Sirius had every right to start sobbing the first time he heard it because it’s genuinely horrific.

[marauders-incorrect-quotes-0]

James: I can't believe I lost it

Remus: What? Your trust?

Sirius: Your sanity?

Regulus: Your will to live?

James: I was talking about my glasses, but we're having a talk after this.