[His instinct is to pull away, to withdraw, to hide, but he stays, for the moment, and listens. He keeps his hands in Sirius'.
Getting full-named like that, especially in that cold a tone from Sirius, is enough of a surprise that perhaps he's simply too stunned to move.
Of course he knows none of them like to hear those sorts of thoughts from him. That's why he normally tries to keep them to himself. And he knows they accept him, knows it in his bones, but it doesn't keep out the rest of the world. The distrust, the outright hatred and disgust and cruelty... You get told you're sub-human enough times by enough people, you start to internalize it, no matter what those closest to you say.
When Sirius admits that he has a point, he looks away again, closing his eyes painfully. It hurts to hear, even still. But Sirius continues on and Remus can't help but think that he doesn't understand, that maybe he really can't. Maybe Remus is the only one that can really comprehend why even the thought is so reprehensible, so inexcusable.
Who else knows what it's like to be too young to understand why your parents who love you have to lock you in the basement for an entire night once a month while you go through immense pain, suffering alone? How would Sirius know what it's like to have a stranger, an adult, call you a hideous beast to your face at the age of seven? Would he understand the toll it took, having to move every few months before the neighbors started to get suspicious? Does he know what it's like to sit in a classroom while a teacher references the work of a man who wrote an entire book about how creatures like you don't deserve to live, unable to say anything for fear everyone would find out you were one of the very monsters they were learning about?
It's not his fault, that he doesn't fully know these things. Remus is glad he doesn't, because no one should. No one ever should, and that's why it's inexcusable that he has possibly inflicted that life on an infant, on his own child, before it ever even took it's first breath. How is that any different than what Greyback did to him?]
This is-- beyond the carelessness of the timing, Sirius. I should never have risked having a child. This is hardly-- hardly the first time I've considered this possibility, I-- I should have known better.
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Getting full-named like that, especially in that cold a tone from Sirius, is enough of a surprise that perhaps he's simply too stunned to move.
Of course he knows none of them like to hear those sorts of thoughts from him. That's why he normally tries to keep them to himself. And he knows they accept him, knows it in his bones, but it doesn't keep out the rest of the world. The distrust, the outright hatred and disgust and cruelty... You get told you're sub-human enough times by enough people, you start to internalize it, no matter what those closest to you say.
When Sirius admits that he has a point, he looks away again, closing his eyes painfully. It hurts to hear, even still. But Sirius continues on and Remus can't help but think that he doesn't understand, that maybe he really can't. Maybe Remus is the only one that can really comprehend why even the thought is so reprehensible, so inexcusable.
Who else knows what it's like to be too young to understand why your parents who love you have to lock you in the basement for an entire night once a month while you go through immense pain, suffering alone? How would Sirius know what it's like to have a stranger, an adult, call you a hideous beast to your face at the age of seven? Would he understand the toll it took, having to move every few months before the neighbors started to get suspicious? Does he know what it's like to sit in a classroom while a teacher references the work of a man who wrote an entire book about how creatures like you don't deserve to live, unable to say anything for fear everyone would find out you were one of the very monsters they were learning about?
It's not his fault, that he doesn't fully know these things. Remus is glad he doesn't, because no one should. No one ever should, and that's why it's inexcusable that he has possibly inflicted that life on an infant, on his own child, before it ever even took it's first breath. How is that any different than what Greyback did to him?]
This is-- beyond the carelessness of the timing, Sirius. I should never have risked having a child. This is hardly-- hardly the first time I've considered this possibility, I-- I should have known better.