An Old, Familiar Nightmare | Remus (Self-Para)
Remus was eleven years old and terrified. He stood outside a bedroom door, eyes cast downward to avoid looking through the crack. His grandmother had her hands on his shoulders, having steered him up the stairs and down the hall, and was urging him to push the door open and go inside. “Go on, Remus, go and see her,” she said softly.
He shook his head vehemently, still staring at his feet. He was starting to tremble.
The hands on his shoulders gave a small push. “She’s asking for you, love,” his grandmother continued. “You’ve got to be brave, now.”
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see his mother—he adored his mother more than anyone else in the world. He just didn’t want to see her like this, didn’t want it to be the last thing he saw of her. He thought about trying to articulate that to his grandmother, but a weak voice from inside the room called out, “Remus?” and he took a shuddering breath before crossing the threshold.
He walked slowly over to the bed where his mother, pale and bruised and emaciated but smiling softly, lay under layers of blankets. His father sat in a wooden chair beside her, his lack of sleep evident in the purple half-moons under his eyes. Remus met his mother’s eyes and she reached out a hand on the bedspread. He took it in his own, gently.
“Hello, cariad,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. She was wearing a floral head scarf Remus had picked out for her when she’d started losing her hair. “How was school today?”
“We learned about chemical elements,” Remus said, willing himself to stop shaking. “The periodic table.” He rambled about each of the day’s lessons, filling her in on every mundane detail, until her eyes started to droop and Lyall put a hand on his son’s back.
“Alright, Remus. Your mother needs to rest.”
Remus shook out from under his father’s touch. “No,” he said, tears pricking behind his eyes. He hated this part, the not knowing. Their conversations were getting shorter every day.
His mother brought their entwined hands up to her lips, kissing his knuckles. “I love you so much,” she said, holding onto him as tightly as she could manage. “You know that, don’t you?”
Remus nodded, swiping roughly at his face as a few tears fell. “I’m—I’m getting my history essay back tomorrow. I’ll read the teacher’s comments to you when I get home. Don’t forget.” He never left the room until she promised to be involved in some future activity.
But his grandmother was back and leading him out of the room, and Remus in the present wanted to stop time, because he knew what came next; he didn’t want to hear the words that would be her last to him, not again...
Remus bolted upright, gasping for air and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. After a few seconds, reality crept back in and he dropped his head back against the sofa, catching his breath. He hadn’t dreamt of that day or his mother in ages. Fumbling for his phone, he saw that it was half past two and groaned.
He dragged himself off the sofa and stripped off his hoodie and t-shirt before climbing into bed. He looked at his phone, now resting on the nightstand, and debated. Lily wasn’t getting much sleep working double shifts after classes, and she’d only worry unnecessarily if Remus told her about the dream. He’d long ago stopped bringing the subject up with his father, knowing how much it broke Lyall’s heart to discuss it. Peter wasn’t the greatest at emotional support, and James would probably go on and on until they both missed class in the morning.
His mind went to Sirius, and his phone was in his hands with the message app open before he shook the thought, setting it back down and turning over onto his other side. The remainder of his night’s sleep, when it came, was mercifully dreamless.
