MOONSTRUCK ... r.lupin

chapter twenty-four

Remus tugs on his arm to pull him away from the wall and into his perfect family unit, forcing his attention away from the pearly whiteness of his teeth and to his parents standing just behind him.

"This is my mother, Hope."

His mother is willowy and tall, like the magnolia tree on the outskirts of the Black Lake, sprouting beautiful flowers to protect them all from blistering winds and pouring rain, curling her branches around you like her hug is enough to keep the cold out. Her hair is chocolatey and rich, a full fringe covering her forehead while the rest falls down to brush against her shoulders. Her skin is paler than even her son's. Up close, Nate can see the beautiful green of her eyes, like grass stretching for miles upon miles over craggy hills and fields, or leaves being blown from trees and tumbling through the endless sky. She looks like her cheeks should be fuller, but they're gaunt. Nate remembers something Remus mentioned about her being ill and having to trek back and forth to the hospital. And yet, she came all this way just to see her son graduate.

"Hello, Nate. We've heard so much about you." She has the same accent as her son, but her voice is soft and tinged with kindness, a sort of fullness to her vowels that makes him feel comforted inside. Like honey dripping from a spoon. Sugar being stirred into tea.

"Don't worry. It wasn't that bad," guffaws the man standing at her side, one lanky arm wrapped around her waist while the hand of the other is pushed into the pockets of his tweed trousers. He's got a strong Scouse accent, like Marlene McKinnon.

"And, this is my dad, Lyall."

His dad is actually shorter than his mum by a few inches, just enough that when she tilts her head she can lean on the top of his, like if someone was to take Poppy and Michael and twist them around. His caramel hair is tinted silver just above his ears and he's parted it at the side, gelling it down so it doesn't fall too much in his face like his son's does. His short beard has more silver threaded through but his moustache is generally untouched, not too thick above his mouth to look like a caterpillar has just found a home upon his face. Like his son, his eyes resemble autumn, leaves turning to brown beneath your boots, the earthy aroma surrounding you as you walk, a cosy quilt around your shoulders as you swallow hot coffee and sit by the fireplace. He looks so much like his son and yet sounds so dislike him, it is oddly funny.

Lyall pulls his hand out of his trouser pocket to shake Nate's. It's clammy and warm, but it feels like a dad's handshake. Nate can't help but wonder, just for a moment, what it feels like to grow up with a dad around the house, who brings home chippies tucked under his arm in newspaper wrapping, who puts you in his clothes to make your mum laugh, who teaches you how to make soup.

He blinks back tears as he steps back, smiling.

How can he beg for a dad when he had the most amazing mum growing up?

Lyall and Hope talk to him about his studies, and being a Hufflepuff, and even about his plans to become a healer. Remus really must have told them a lot about him. He probably hasn't told them about how good he is at kissing though – and he is really good at kissing, to toot his own horn a bit. It feels nice to finally meet his parents, to figure out exactly how Remus turned out the way he did, wearing ripped jeans and piercing his own ears and having to hide the illegally-done tattoo he got over the summer. He wonders what his parents were like when they were younger.

A hand curls around his shoulder. "Mr and Mrs Lupin. It is good to see you again." Nate's head twists towards his mother. She's wearing her favourite mauve robes that she usually only brings out for really important events, like her engagement party back during the Christmas holidays when he had to spend the entire day surrounded by Urquhart and all his old friends. It makes her look smaller, though, but she still walks with all the grace of a woman as tall as Hope Lupin, with her chin tilted up and her mouth set. Her black hair is being held in a low bun by ornamental hairpins, gemstone cherry blossoms hanging from chains. When she smiles at the couple, she looks as young as Nate can remember her.