Pensieve - Wolfstar Fanfiction

1

It was once again September. Cold, rainy, ugly British September. The dull gray buildings of Grimmauld Place looked dead, there were no children playing outside or old ladies walking their petty little dogs. Sirius was kind of glad about it really, he didn't want any muggles to see him carrying all of his trunks down the street like a tortured slave. He even looked like one, what was entirely his fathers fault. Sirius' long, wavy, dark brown hair was greasy and tangled and his angelic face was full of painful looking, deep purple bruises.

Because that's how the Black household worked. There was no privacy, at least for the family disappointment Sirius, whose private diary was all open for his father to read. Orion handn't known about his eldest even having a diary, until when he found the boy writing in it one day some weeks ago. He immediately grabbed it, starting to read it out loud right there as his son could only beg for forgiveness and cry.

"Dear Diary. I think I'm falling for Remus again."

That was all it took. A spark of rage lit up in Orion Black's eyes, as he spit the words out of his mouth with disgust.

His eldest son, a fucking Gryffindor, the disappointment of the entire family, was gay.

And Orion hit him. It wasn't the first time, and it was most definitely not the last. He hit him, and hit him, and hit him until Walburga ran up the stairs, shocked of the noises she had heard. And there she stood, without a word as her sixteen year old son laid on the floor, knees against his chest, crying and apologising with his scared and shaky voice. And she did nothing.
"He's a fucking faggot!"

...

Remus, his summer had been loads better. He was mostly at home, but it had been absolutely amazing compared to Sirius' situation.
And every month, for one night, everything went to shit. He had gained several thick, crimson scars to decorate his pale skin, and even though it had been ten years since it all started, he couldn't bring himself to accept it.

He sat alone, almost half an hour early on a bench in King's Cross station, trunks next to him. His oversized jumper was swallowing him, and his awkwardly tall legs bended uncomfortably as he tried to find a position that wouldn't sting on his fucked up back. The boy had grown enormous during the summer. He had reached six feet in height, and he was already nervous about how James would most certainly find a way to playfully pick on him about it. And even though Remus seemed like that kind of person who would be fine with it, or just fine with himself in general, he was not.
As a boy whose body had been forced to painfully transform once a month since he was five years old, as a boy with countless ugly scars, he was very insecure. And he was scared of the opinions and words of other people. He would say, that words were the worst kind of weapon. More deadly than any spell or muggle gun, or even the full moon.

He was scared of rejection, because the thing he needed most was attention. He needed human contact, he craved to be cared for. But as a person who rarely asked for anything, he didn't open his mouth about it.

Remus was kind, he was so fucking kind. And the reason why, it was the saddest fucking thing.

And he sat, waiting for his friends. Waiting to see the only three people that actually mattered.