Marauders Drabbles [ 2/4 ]
Title: Clothes
Author: Casey
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG
Pairings: None
Warnings: None
Genre: Character study
Summary: Marauders drabbles, part two: Remus
2: Clothes
He tried it first after a few charms lessons, eyes squeezed shut to draw up the memory of his mother in her floral-print chair, a pair of boy's trousers in her lap with a ripped seam. Focused on the needle in her hand and the way she had moved her wand, the precise intonation of the words she spoke. He held his breath for as long as he could before opening his eyes and exhaling in a rush that made his bedcurtains sway.
Reparo could only do so much, and once the threads disintegrated and the fabric wore to threadbare, there was nothing for it but to sew. His mother explained that after the fifth time that particular seam had come out of his trousers. You simply must be more careful with your clothes, Remus, she had said. Not scolding, but in that careworn and exhausted tone she used when he asked for a new toy or complained about having brussels sprouts for the fifth night in a row.
He had tried to be careful. He would stay indoors when it rained so that no one could push him into a mud puddle. He stopped climbing trees and instead contented himself with sitting beneath them and reading, old rags between his trousers and the staining grass. On full moon nights, in the dark cellar he would undress carefully, fold his clothing neatly and pass it through the trapdoor before his mother locked it and slid the heavy antique armoire over the top.
Remus learned to wash his clothes. Carefully, so as not to stress the fabric further. He learned to use the old enchanted pressing iron his mother kept in the hall closet, so at least his clothes would look well-tended and presentable, if not new. He learned that 'used' was the term that precluded most of the things she bought.
The word 'used' seemed to mean a lot of things.
When he stepped on the train bound for Hogwarts, Remus Lupin promised himself that his mother would no longer be 'used'. He would learn to do all the things she did for him, all the things that made her look tired, all the things that made her despair. He would care for himself at the full moon. He would stop asking about his father and why he had to die. He would transcend his desire for candy and broomsticks and other fun pastimes that required gold. He would eat brussels sprouts. He would study hard and make good grades so when he was grown he could get a good job, pay all of her debts and buy her a pre-charmed needle that wouldn't tarnish.
He would start, that first week of classes, by mending his own robes.
Author: Casey
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG
Pairings: None
Warnings: None
Genre: Character study
Summary: Marauders drabbles, part two: Remus
2: Clothes
He tried it first after a few charms lessons, eyes squeezed shut to draw up the memory of his mother in her floral-print chair, a pair of boy's trousers in her lap with a ripped seam. Focused on the needle in her hand and the way she had moved her wand, the precise intonation of the words she spoke. He held his breath for as long as he could before opening his eyes and exhaling in a rush that made his bedcurtains sway.
Reparo could only do so much, and once the threads disintegrated and the fabric wore to threadbare, there was nothing for it but to sew. His mother explained that after the fifth time that particular seam had come out of his trousers. You simply must be more careful with your clothes, Remus, she had said. Not scolding, but in that careworn and exhausted tone she used when he asked for a new toy or complained about having brussels sprouts for the fifth night in a row.
He had tried to be careful. He would stay indoors when it rained so that no one could push him into a mud puddle. He stopped climbing trees and instead contented himself with sitting beneath them and reading, old rags between his trousers and the staining grass. On full moon nights, in the dark cellar he would undress carefully, fold his clothing neatly and pass it through the trapdoor before his mother locked it and slid the heavy antique armoire over the top.
Remus learned to wash his clothes. Carefully, so as not to stress the fabric further. He learned to use the old enchanted pressing iron his mother kept in the hall closet, so at least his clothes would look well-tended and presentable, if not new. He learned that 'used' was the term that precluded most of the things she bought.
The word 'used' seemed to mean a lot of things.
When he stepped on the train bound for Hogwarts, Remus Lupin promised himself that his mother would no longer be 'used'. He would learn to do all the things she did for him, all the things that made her look tired, all the things that made her despair. He would care for himself at the full moon. He would stop asking about his father and why he had to die. He would transcend his desire for candy and broomsticks and other fun pastimes that required gold. He would eat brussels sprouts. He would study hard and make good grades so when he was grown he could get a good job, pay all of her debts and buy her a pre-charmed needle that wouldn't tarnish.
He would start, that first week of classes, by mending his own robes.