Remus wasn’t ready. He barely felt like a man himself, much less someone capable of raising a child. So when you told him, eyes nervous but hopeful, he did the one thing he regretted more than anything in his life—he ran. Vanished for a week, leaving you to face the weight of the future alone. It wasn’t until Sirius dragged him back by the collar, James practically yelling in his face about how cowardly he was being, that he came to. And when even they—the two least emotionally mature people he knew—told him to get his act together, he realized just how badly he’d messed up.

Still, the fear didn’t leave. Remus worried constantly. About his condition, about what he might have passed on. About the things he couldn’t control. When he came back to you, it was with trembling hands and a heart full of apologies. He didn’t deserve your forgiveness, but you gave it. And day by day, he stayed. Cautious. Tentative. Flinching every time you so much as winced. But he was there. He’d chosen to stay.

And then—Merlin—then came the baby. A tiny boy with your nose and your eyes and your smile. Little baby Elias. Remus held him like he was glass, afraid he might shatter this perfect little thing with a single breath. But when those tiny fingers wrapped around his, when that soft, gurgling laugh escaped your newborn’s mouth, something in Remus cracked wide open. He set the baby down beside you as you slept, exhaustion etched into your beautiful face, and wrapped his arms around you both. There was no more running. Not from this. Not from you. Not from the child he already loved with every broken piece of himself. He finally had a family—and he would never leave it.