#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.

[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

[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.

[stupidnpoetic]

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

[loonyloopylupin96]

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

@Sirius Black

[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!

[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]

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.

~

[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

[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.

[rose-leviosa]

Penance Year Three, Chapter Thirty-Eight - Progress

Snippet

The sun streamed through the bedroom window, surprisingly bright against his closed eyes. He felt its warmth kissing his face and he buried himself deeper into his blankets, feeling better rested than he had in years.

He hummed contentedly, listening to the soft sound of Teddy singing to himself in the other room.

As tone deaf as Dora.

He smiled lovingly as he pulled his quilt tight, reveling in the peace he had been craving for so long. His head felt uncommonly clear, free from the usual hangover he had come to expect. The voice inside his head was quiet, the overwhelming guilt he carried lighter than usual.

The muffled thump of small feet padding across the floor reached his ears, followed by the creak of the bedroom door. Remus kept his eyes closed, listening as Teddy hesitated on the threshold.

"Deffro, Dadi!" Wake up, Daddy!

Remus felt a dull sense of sadness at the sudden shift from ‘Dada’ to ‘Dadi’ - a small, undeniable reminder that Teddy was growing up. He cracked open one eye to see Teddy grinning at him, his blue hair a messy tuft.

“Morning!” Teddy beamed, reaching out a hand to pat at Remus’ scruffy face. His little fingers tickled as they skimmed Remus’ neck, but he didn't flinch.

Remus smiled and silently lifted the blanket in invitation. Teddy let out a delighted squeal and clambered up, his little hands grasping at the sheets as he scrambled onto the bed. His cold toes pressed against Remus’ legs as he snuggled close, cocooned in the toasty blankets.

“Did you sleep well?” Remus murmured, his voice thick with sleep as he brushed a hand through his son’s unruly hair. Teddy nodded, his hair mussing against the pillow.

“I sleeped good,” he confirmed, his fingers toying absently with the stretched out collar of Remus’ shirt. Remus could smell cereal on his breath and he imagined the mess likely to be waiting for him in the kitchen. The thought merely made him chuckle.

“You sleeped well,” Remus corrected gently, tapping Teddy playfully on the nose.

Teddy didn’t acknowledge the correction, too busy wriggling under the blankets to get comfortable. He curled against Remus, his little fingers fluttering against his throat.

His face pinched into a soft frown, his nose crinkling in a way that reminded Remus of Dora. The thought was not as painful as he expected.

“What that?” Teddy asked, looking up into Remus’ eyes with confusion and something bordering on disgust. Remus tucked his chin to look down. His heart sank as he saw Teddy’s fingers hovering nervously over the edge of the scar that took up the left side of his chest. He felt Teddy’s grasp tighten around his shirt, tugging it down further to investigate.

Remus swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He fought the instinct to cover himself, to tuck the scar away where Teddy couldn’t see it - where he wouldn’t have to explain - but Teddy’s eyes were wide, full of unfiltered curiosity that made him feel compelled to offer an explanation.

He exhaled slowly and forced himself to speak. “That’s a scar,” he said gently.

Teddy frowned deeper, his fingers tracing the uneven ridges with hesitant care. “Bill?”

Remus’ brow furrowed in confusion before he realized what Teddy meant.

“Yes, like Mr. Bill.”

Teddy nodded thoughtfully, as if he was processing this new information, comparing Remus’ scar to the ones he’d seen on Bill's face. His fingers hesitated on the raised skin before he looked up again, his small face filled with quiet concern.

“It hurt, Daddy?”

Remus felt a sudden urge to cry, though he couldn't tell if it was from the sweetness of Teddy's voice or the fact that his son was seeing a glimpse of the ugly truth of his life. He forced a reassuring smile, his fingers itching to cover himself.

“No, cariad. It doesn't hurt.” Beneath the hideous scar, his heart ached.

Teddy’s face became thoughtful, his small fingers still brushing over the scar absentmindedly. Then, to Remus’ surprise, he leaned forward and pressed a tiny kiss against it before nestling back into his father’s chest.

He imagined he could feel the brush of his son's tiny lips against the nerveless flesh. Pictured the scar tissue melting away in a little mouth-shaped ring. His breath hitched as he blinked against the unexpected sting behind his eyes, wrapping his arms more securely around his son.

[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.