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80- Stay

I had insisted that I was to drive home myself. I wasn't allowed to apparate for the following two weeks, I was instructed to use muggle methods only. Remus had tried bargaining with me but I persisted, I was going to drive myself home. I missed being in control, I missed the feeling of being out in fresh air, it felt like I had become accustomed to St Mungo's for too long.

"But you can't drive my car." He tried once again as we walked out of St Mungo's together, his hand fell to the small of my back to lightly support me, but not overwhelm me.

"Your car will be fine just.. stop being so negative will you." I muttered moodily under my breath.

Remus lupin was a melancholy man. It infuriated me. To my core. He was the kind of guy who saw the glass half empty all the time, which might have been surprising seen as though he was the one who on the surface kept seeing the bright side of our relationship.

The good side of me.

But everything else?

He was so bloody melancholic, so self deprecating, and it riled me up, it made me want to push his buttons, make him let loose a little. It was probably because he had been alone for the majority of his life, and to be honest, his life was sort of shit.

We never really talked much about parents, though whenever the topic did come up, he didn't really express much. His mother he seemed to tolerate, I think, both of his parents had passed now though, but whenever I mentioned them he would still get awkward.

His mother was a muggle, his father the sole reason why his life had turned out so shit. Naturally, I despised his father on his behalf, even if the bastard was dead. Though he appreciated my compassion and extreme distaste to the man, he laughed when I cursed his grave and told me that he had forgiven him a long time ago and that he wasn't that bad. Though he might have just said that out of obligation because anyone compared to my father was a saint. But that didn't make Remus's any less shitty.

He said his parents started to treat him differently after he was bitten, that they would constantly walk around egg shells and that the guilt would pour out of them so blatantly that it irked him. He said he wished he knew them more before he was bitten because maybe he wouldn't have resented them so much.

His mother he didn't seem to mind. He told me she was a simple lady, kind and good hearted and that sometimes he can still remember the smell of her when he puts his mind to it. Though, she struggled to hide her fear. Of her own son. He said she would try to hide it but it would always show and he could see it in her face what she thought of him sometimes.

His mother had passed first, then his father.

His father worked for the Ministry and even disregarding the whole werewolf palava, he said that he was a rigid sort of man. Always tired and busy and tired from work and that he wasn't all that paternal.

He was alone and different since the age of 4. And then after that, he was thrown straight into war, like a toy soldier, as a weapon for Dumbledore's personal use and then just as he started not to be alone, he was alone again.

I didn't blame him for being melancholy. I didn't blame him for being so negative sometimes. But I really did wish sometimes he would stop being so afraid of the consequences of everything. That he would stop looking at all of the bad things that could happen and relax.

He told me that he wasn't always like this. That he had changed after the war, after he lost everything on that Halloween. That when he was at Hogwarts Sirius Black and James Potter forced him to live freely, to live life as if it was the last and throughout my time with him, it showed sometimes, not all the time, but sometimes and Merlin I would love it. Love the Gryffindor that would pour out of him.