Brilliant Art Work Credits: Papayas are a good place to start because everyone knows papayas are a disgrace to mankind. The name 'papaya' sounds completely ridiculous; they smell like sweaty socks and taste like overcooked sweaty socks. How Remus knows the taste of overcooked sweaty socks, he is careful not to reveal, or remember for that matter. Bottom line is Remus hates papayas as much as he hates coloured sprinkles.
Coloured sprinkles spoil the very essence of chocolate. Sprinkles are meant to taste like chocolate, look like chocolate, and essentially be chocolate. They are not meant to be bloody rainbows. Remus also hates his mother; almost as much as papayas and definitely more than coloured sprinkles. The only reason papayas rank higher is only because Remus considers the existence of papayas a whole lot more significant than hers.
There are many reasons to hate his mother, some of them painfully obvious. Abandonment, attempt at murder, abuse, not essentially in that order. Horrible as they may sound, they don't really affect him as much since these memories are only recent and Remus doesn't really feel anything son-ly for her like he used to when he was younger. The real reason he truly hates her is John. John is one of the few people Remus doesn't hate, ranking somewhere around the category of Dumbledore and Michael Caine because Michael Caine gives off that sort of respectable British air.
John is one of the few people who need Remus to survive because by himself, he will light his hair on fire or get a sock stuck down the toilet and flood the whole house. No, that's not true; not anymore because Remus's mother is there to avoid such catastrophes. Truth is, Remus has begun to admit, is that Remus still needs John… Remus also hates, absolutely despises Divination and Potions. Divination is a subject for absolute idiots like James and Sirius whose story making skills exceed the literary limits of well known authors such as Oscar Wilde and Charles Dickens.
Remus remembers reading one of Sirius's assignments, which primarily involved a doxie invasion in the near future, ultimately leading to the fall and destruction of wizard kind. Sirius got an 'O' for his "visionary thinking", despite having spelled future with two o's. Potions is an entirely different story, since Remus neither considers it a redundant subject nor one made for storytellers. The problem with Potions was that Remus truly, quite genuinely sucked. But perhaps the most hateful thing to Remus was the full moon… The thing Remus hated most about patrolling the halls was finding arseholes like this.
Arseholes who deliberately abused their prefect status to break curfew. Arseholes who chose abandoned classroom to bully students half their size just for a good bit of fun. Chiefly, arseholes like Lucius Malfoy and his posse who was currently nameless.
The child looked about to cry, as he looked desperately at Remus. Slytherin, Remus realised, looking at the crest on the boy's slippers. Attacking your own; Malfoy had really sunk low this time. Malfoy, oblivious to Remus's disgust, smiled slyly, revealing truly hideous dental work towards the right side.
Someone was obviously not brushing after every meal. Then again, he didn't really need to say it; the other boy beside Malfoy knew it quite thoroughly. If only Remus remembered his name; it would make it much easier for a witty retort. Remus's memory capabilities extended only up till the other person's arse most of the times.
Remus never forgot a good, firm arse and found that connecting said arse with the face made for easy identification. However, if in cases such as this one where there's little or no difference between the arse and the face, then Remus's memory fails him completely. Remus was distracted from his thoughts of the psychological study of associative memory by a miserable sob. The child of course; Remus had almost forgotten that it was about time he played hero and rescued the boy.
Sirius would have liked the idea of being a hero, Remus realised randomly; Sirius would have also wanted a cape and his underwear on top of his trousers. Being a hero wasn't the most attractive of jobs, but someone with a prefect badge like Remus was forced to do it. There was a first year Slytherin cloak on the ground that Remus hadn't noticed before and both Malfoy and his posse were standing unusually close to the boy.
It didn't take a genius to figure it out; Malfoy might have had Narcissa Black but everyone knew he was a bloody sadist. Of course, the other Slytherin arsehole beside him wasn't all that straight, and swung towards fine younger boys. Remus should know; he had been one of those fine younger boys and had still managed to top the bastard. The winner in this situation was quite obvious.
Just the thought of it made Remus smile; a useful trick he'd learnt from Sirius since it made him look utterly insane when done at inappropriate times. Context always made such a big difference. So please feel free to add a paragraph or two. A cheer that sounded oddly like Sirius's resounded in Remus's head, and Remus made a mental note to stay away from Sirius's annoying influence for at least a week, or until Remus regained his sanity.
The cheering continued as Malfoy harrumphed and strode out of the room noisily with his arse-boy posse, slamming the door behind him. The last creative insult Remus heard was 'Gryffindor bastard'. The two Slytherin arseholes were going to find out exactly how much of a 'Gryffindor bastard' Remus was once they'd discover the tentacles sprouting out of their unmentionables.
Remus was turning to head back to the dorms for a good night's rest when he heard whimpering. It wasn't the sort of whimpering Sirius did when he wanted sex; it sounded a bit more like a wounded animal or child.
Ah, yes, Remus remembered the child he had just saved from filthy Slytherin paws. Well, it wasn't as if the child Sid, was it? The boy could go on ahead to his dorms and sleep the trauma off like any abnormal eleven year old. This Sid fellow didn't really have to crouch in a corner like that and continue bawling his eyes out. It was a bit unsightly.
Actually, it was also somewhat pathetic. Remus wondered if now was the appropriate time to pat the boy's head or better still, just leave. It was incredibly awkward and felt almost as if Remus was also supposed to offer a biscuit and tell this Sid boy what a good chap he was. This was the sort of thing James or Sirius or any other human being other than Remus did well. This comforting thing; if it was a subject, Remus was a 'Troll'. The boy's hands shook slightly as he fastened his cloak.
I saw you cast it on Brody. Remus would remember it for a solid week at least; that's how long the tentacle spell lasted and it was going to be a difficult task hiding it with robes. A simple spell and the boy's face lit up like Remus had just shown him a magic trick. Then again, Remus had, but the point went across nonetheless. It was a bit like when Remus would teach Sirius a new destructive spell just to keep him distracted from trying out several different sugary names.
Contrary to popular opinion, Remus did not appreciate being called a strawberry, mostly because strawberries had pits all across the surface and Remus took pride in having baby-bum smooth skin. Remus didn't want to know why Sirius was running like his life depended on it, he really didn't; but when has Sirius ever respected his wishes?
The explosion was brilliant of course, but it was a bit too loud. Filch is on our tails now. Before Remus could hit Sirius hard up the head or at least make some scathing remark because Remus didn't really do violence , the door closed and they were enveloped in complete darkness.
It was really difficult to make remarks when you couldn't see the person you intended to make remarks to. Also, by the time Sirius lit his wand, Remus had lost interest in remarking and was a bit more interested in "getting the fuck out of this dingy cupboard". Remus did not like small cupboards; a little because you couldn't fit a lot of clothes in, but mostly because being in them made him feel like an unsalted sardine.
Having lived in an all bloke house and then dormitory for most of his life, Remus did not appreciate or trust underwear that had lace, bows, glitter, or any other kind of ornaments to decorate one's nether regions.
It wasn't that Remus disliked women or what they wore. It was just that they really, quite severely turned him off. It was really for the best and avoided any further damage to his sensibilities if Remus kept his eyes on the ceiling, firmly looking at the white orb that- Daddy's bleeding.
It's all his fault. He did this to daddy. He doesn't remember how or why; he only knows that the blood on his hands is daddy's. He wouldn't do this to daddy so it must all be a very bad dream, like the one he sometimes has of a big scary wolf.
It is a bad dream but no matter how much he screams or how hard he digs his nails into his scalp and pulls and pulls and pulls, daddy is still bleeding. Daddy keeps calling his name, wanting him to come closer, but he backs away to the farthest corner. He doesn't want to hurt daddy again. He hears her scream of horror and her frantic footsteps towards him. He hears her screaming, 'what have you done, you monster?
What have you done? Mummy has never… There's another smack and daddy yells at her to stop, his face looking pained and shocked at the same time.
The wound's not deep! I can heal it…so let me handle this…' 'NO! I can't leave you with this…this…' Mummy has forgotten his name. She's so angry, her face is red and her eyes are popping out. There's a vein throbbing at her temple and she's the scariest he's ever seen her.