In fairy stories new and old

The hero’s always brave and bold.

A handsome mien, a dashing face,

A body steeped in charm and grace.

Our story takes a different lean,

Our hero whilst by no chance mean

Already famed throughout the lands

For vanquishing with his small hands

A villain of unparalleled sin

We pray to never see again.

Unaware of his undoubted fame

Our hero does not know his name.

He sits inside a cupboard dusty

Alone with rubbish dank and musty.

For though our hero is yet a boy

He never sees a book nor toy.

He waits and wishes in the dark

For rescue from his life so stark.

He does not wish for wealth or gold

Or packages of toys untold.

Our hero wishes for one gift

Of which he has been long bereft

He hopes and wishes to all above

For a little show of simply love.

Silence.

Click, scrape.

“Pet, I’m home. Dudders where are you? Daddy’s got a treat!”

Clomp, stamp, clomp, stamp, clomp stamp.

“Daddy! What is it Daddy? What is it?”

Rustle, rustle, rustle.

“Wow Daddy! Thank you. Mummy, look what Daddy got for me!”

“It’s lovely pumpkin. Why don’t you go and play with it in you room? Dinner will be ready soon. Mummy will call you. Go on Diddydums.”

Clomp, stamp, clomp, stamp, clomp, stamp.

“Vernon you really are spoiling him. He’s so precious though. I just love the look on his face every time he gets something new…”

Silence.

“Diddy? Dinner is ready precious. Diddy? Quickly now my darling, we don’t want it to get cold.”

Clomp, stamp, clomp, stamp, clomp stamp.

“Mummy is there chocolate ice cream for pudding again?”

“Yes poppet, of course.”

“With sprinkles? And chocolate sauce?”

“Y…”

Silence.

*************************

A few weeks later.

The boy sat in his cupboard. Dusty blanket on the floor and a tattered teddy bear clutched tightly to his chest. He had just had his best Christmas to date. Aunt Petunia had given him one of Dudley’s old toys. The teddy bear was missing a leg, an eye and quite a lot of stuffing but the boy didn’t mind. The boy had been given a present, an old unwanted present but it was his, for now at any rate.

Through the slats in the air vent the boy could see Dudley sitting next to the Christmas tree. Dudley was a good boy, a special boy. Dudley was so good that Santa had brought him lots of presents, new presents. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had given Dudley lots of presents too and Aunt Marge had brought more presents than the boy had ever seen. Presents and wrapping paper littered the floor around Dudley and he crowed in delight with each new gift. Dudley was special. Boy was a freak. But the boy had his own present this year. Aunt Petunia had said the boy could keep it if he was good and quiet and didn’t do anything freaky whilst Aunt Marge was here to stay.

The boy was scared of Aunt Marge. She was Uncle Vernon’s sister and she was big and loud. Her voice boomed when she talked and she didn’t like the boy. No one liked the boy but Aunt Marge liked him even less. What was worse was that her dog didn’t like him either. Ripper growled at the boy every time he saw him. Ripper had pointy, sharp teeth and the boy was more scared of him that of anything else in his life. He was even more scary than the nightmares the boy had. The boy felt scared when he had the nightmares but it was only green light. Green light and laughing. There was nothing scary about green light and laughing; they couldn’t hurt you. Ripper’s teeth could though. His teeth could bite clean through an arm or a leg. Aunt Marge had told the boy so.

So the boy sat in his cupboard and was quiet. He was quiet and he was good and he pretended that he wasn’t there. And whilst he pretended, he hoped and he wished. He didn’t wish for presents. He knew that freaks didn’t deserve presents and he believed it. He had been lucky that he was given the teddy. What the boy wished for more than anything in the world was that he could have someone to hug him like Aunt Petunia was hugging Dudley now. Dudley had hurt his finger on the wrapping paper and Aunt Petunia was cuddling him and rocking him and planting little kisses all over the finger. She tucked his head on her shoulder, under her chin and gently dried his tears. She called him Precious and told him that it would be okay. The boy wanted someone to cuddle him and tell him it would be okay. But freaks aren’t loved. Freaks aren’t wanted. And the one thing the boy knew more than anything was that he was a freak.

Sharp.

Rough.

Fear.

Panting, rustling.

“Ripper! What have you got there? Found a rabbit have you then? Go on then, get it Ripper. Get it.”

Growling.

Fear, terror.

Scream.

“Oh it’s you boy. Ripper! Leave it! Leave it I said! I’ve warned you before boy. Ripper can bite right through a little arm or leg like yours. Get inside and stop causing trouble or I’ll have your Uncle lock you in the cupboard again.”

Pain.

Blood.

Sob.

“What is all that noise about boy? What are you doing? Oh, Ripper get you did he? Best give it a wash eh Pet what do you think?”

“Yes, I’ll deal with it Vernon, go and finish reading the paper. Come along boy! Stop that snivelling.”

Sniff.

Hurt.

“Give me your leg. Now boy! It will hurt more if you don’t do as I say. Dratted freaks! I don’t know why they couldn’t find somebody else to… Keep still boy. For goodness sake it’s only a bite.”

Sniff.

“There boy. It’s clean. Now go to your cupboard. You know what will happen if I hear any more of that grizzling.”

Sniff.

Nod.

Shuffle.

Slam! Click.

“I’ve given it a good scrub Vernon. Ripper didn’t get a proper hold. Only a couple of teeth went all the way in. Now what were you saying about that article? The banks are doing what?...”

Sniff.

Hiccup.

Sniff.

******************************

The boy sat in his cupboard on the same dusty blanket hugging the same tattered old teddy. His leg hurt. His trousers were ripped and there were holes in his leg. Blood trickled slowly from the wound. The boy knew Aunt Petunia would be cross if he got blood on anything important. Aunt Petunia didn’t like freaks getting blood all over the place. He mopped it up as best he could with the corner of his blanket. No one ever looked at his blanket so it wouldn’t matter if it was covered in blood.

The boy shuffled about, trying to find a comfortable position to rest in. He caught his leg on one of the boxes of junk stored in the cupboard and fought not to cry. The boy was to be good and to be quiet and to pretend he was not there. The boy was not to cry or to snivel or to wail. He was to be quiet. He was to be quiet. He was to be quiet or Aunt Petunia would take teddy away. He was to be quiet. The litany went round and round as he tried to suppress the sobs and tears. His breath hitched and tiny silvery tears leaked from his eyes and trickled down his baby soft cheeks. He brushed them away forcefully.

The boy would not make a noise. The boy would not cry. Please the boy would not cry; the boy would not lose teddy.

********************************

“If you think for one minute Remus John Lupin that I will consent to go on a date with you that includes visiting the home of Arabella Figg then you are very much mistaken! That woman has more cats than anyone has a right to. They are filthy and smelly and shed fur all over my robes.”

Remus chuckled. His youthful face breaking into a happy smile.

“Come on Sev. You promised me a date today. It’s my turn to choose. Last time you made me go to that Potion Master Convention and wouldn’t even let me hold your hand at the table!” Remus cajoled.

“It wasn’t my hand you were after and you know it! I may be one of the youngest Potion Masters ever to gain the title but that does not make me widely respected. Creating a spectacle of us will not help me gain the respect of the other masters.” Severus scowled darkly as he spoke. Remus took things far too lightly. It was good to see Remus starting to really enjoy life again after the trials and tribulations of the last few years but there was a limit.

Remus laughed again and slung an arm around Sev’s shoulder. He pulled the other man towards him, looking him in the eye.

“You can’t make them respect you Sev. You’ve got to be yourself. Your talents speak for themselves. You are amazing at potions; you always have been. Lighten up love. We’ll pay a quick visit to Arabella and then be off. She only has four cats you know. Not four hundred.’

Severus carefully removed the arm from around his shoulder and stepped away. “If you expect me to do this then there better damn well be something worth my while at the end of it!”

Severus stalked away towards the door muttering to himself all the while about bloody werewolves who didn’t know the meaning of a good date.

“Sev?”

“What?”

“I love you”

“Idiot!”

Remus chuckled again and began gathering the things he needed for their outing. The last time he had spoken to Arabella she had said that Harry seemed quiet but looked okay from what she saw of him. She had promised to try and get a couple of photos for him as soon as she could. He had promised to deliver some things she needed from Diagon Alley and hoped that she would have the photos ready.

He really missed Harry and his sparkling green eyes, his messy black hair and increasingly toothy grin. He missed James and Lily too. And Sirius… No he wouldn’t think about that today. Today he was going on a date with Sev and might get to see Harry, if only a photo, for the first time in over two years. He was going to see Harry!

“Hurry up Sev, I’m ready!”

“Bloody werewolf…”