He picked up on calm before the storm. As he was a man who lived alone in a small house, as Lyall understood it, his was the only opinion that mattered here. Except for the phantom called Abe Foley, he stayed quite alone in his small three bedroom house. He'd purchased this place because of Abe, and the real estate agent who tired of playing an old game had written over the deed in exchange for peace of mind.

Sitting in front of the fire in his armchair, Lyall drummed his fingers on the upholstery and stared into the depths of the flames. A devout Catholic man, he believed in the soul and confession, yet he didn't want to cross this line. Was it really worth it? Couldn't he simply live and let live and give life to the lie? Lies morphed into accepted truths, and there was no reason to fix whatever wasn't broken. If Remus believed he crossed paths with a dark stranger, what did it matter to his father?

The so-called truth stayed that way for thirty years. Remus wasn't any the wiser. Maybe he'd accepted what Lyall called his ailment. Lyall absentmindedly rubbed the side of his finger and played with the worn gold. His wife, Hope, had passed away from a Muggle illness called lupis fifteen years ago. She'd quit her job at the insurance agency and enjoyed a peaceful summer.

"Abe, it goes on the hook," said Lyall listlessly, pinching the bridge of his nose. An emerald green traveling cloak appeared to levitate on its own and hang itself in the coat hanger. Abe never said anything, though he spoke volumes, and they lived together quite harmoniously. Whenever Abe got a laugh from flushing the toilet while Lyall took a shower, Lyall wondered if his son would've thought this funny. "Thank you."

Abraham Foley put up with Lyall living in his place; this was not the other way around. After years of working with ghosts, and phantoms, and poltergeists, Lyall took comfort in the fact he remained a shy freak with a talent for getting on famously with the dead. Lyall took off his wedding ring, held it between his fingers, and studied it in the light.

It wasn't bone chilly in early November, but he stayed cold-natured. A man nearing seventy, he suffered from poor eyesight and crippling arthritis, and the cold really didn't ease things at the end of the day. When the door creaked open, seemingly of its own accord, Lyall reached for his wand. Visitors rarely showed up in the dead of night, and he wasn't home half the time because he was off visiting abandoned holdfasts, or castles, or manors.

"You know what angers me?" Remus stepped into the light and smiled a little when he jolted his old man. His tone, uncharacteristically harsh, came well deserved after Lyall revealed he'd buried a secret. Remus had found out last year, and he'd avoided his father at all costs. "You lied to me."

"Remus." Lyall had played this interaction back through his mind since Remus had left silence in his wake months ago.

"Over and over again," said Remus, making himself at home and sitting down on the couch. Although they had lived in many houses because they had to stay ahead of the secret getting out, Lyall always insisted his boy could come home. Because Remus had opted to be on his own since he turned seventeen, Lyall got an opportunity to put down roots.

When Remus was a small boy, almost five, Lyall had made the awful decision to challenge Fenrir Greyback at the Ministry of Magic, and he hadn't understood the gravity of his mistake until he found his boy's bedroom window open. Remus had nearly bled to death. Lyall had saved his life, but he'd wiped the boy's memory.

"And I heard the story from Newt Scamander." Remus's lined face contorted in rage. With his grey hair and lined face, Remus could've passed as a brother or close friend. "Not you."

"People do strange things for love," said Lyall, setting his ring on the coffee table. He shrugged, not knowing what else to say other than an honest answer. Remus's mother had known the truth from the beginning. Abe crocheted a bright orange blanket and clicked the hooks together, and Remus shook his head, not buying a word of this.

"Let me guess." Remus snatched his father's ring off the table for a distraction. It was a trinket, nothing more, and it certainly would never hold enough value as an heirloom. "I don't understand … not yet …"

"You don't have to believe in anything," said Lyall, knowing his son stayed away from religion and faith like one riddled with dragon pox, and Lyall respected this choice. "I said horrible things when I …I didn't know any better. And I will pay for that for the rest of my life, but I have never stopped loving you. I did this."

"Abraham, I'm not going to harm my father." Remus ducked when a crochet hook got aimed at his head. Remus, quick, caught the tool and set it on the table. "Perhaps it should've been you."

"Let's not go down that road, lest we both say something we shall regret," said Lyall, who usually controlled his temper well like Remus; he taught Remus a few mild mannered tricks. Whilst he readily took responsibility for the past, he wasn't going to sit here and bleed to death to beg for forgiveness. "What's done done is done. Either we get over it, or we don't. What do we do from here?"

Remus glanced at the floor.

Lyall got up and heaved a couple logs onto the fire and wiped his hands on his trousers. Lyall had told himself countless times he would've taken Remus's place for anything in the world. He deserved this, especially the months of silent treatment and cold shoulder, yet he refused to lie down. "Who are you?"

"A werewolf." His anger ebbing ever so slightly here, Remus met Lyall's eyes. "You're a coward."

"Me? Who left his pregnant wife to drown his sorrows at a pub?" Lyall actually laughed, and he was pleased to see Remus's smile, a rare sight these days, reached his eyes. Lyall inclined his head, lowering his voice. "Yeah, I heard about that. The point is … you decided to make choice after brushing yourself off. You don't know anything yet, Remus, but it'll start to sink in when you hold your son or your daughter in your arms."

Remus didn't say anything for a while, and they enjoyed the silence; they used to consider this quality time after Hope died. Abe set two glasses of wine on the table with a half-empty bottle and a tin of warm chocolate biscuits.

"You're not only my boy. You're one of my best friends, and maybe that's because we … I don't know, Remus." Lyall shrugged his shoulders and smiled a little when Remus opened the tin and helped himself to a few chocolate biscuits. "I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am."

"I'll get over it." Remus broke the silence after some time and crossed his legs. They used to tell each other everything. "I've others met others."

"Oh. Werewolves?" Relaxed and friendly, Lyall paced the room and listened to Abe's peaceful clinking. He listened as Remus discussed a group called the Order of the Phoenix and Lyall shared a story about falling up the steps at Leap Castle.

"That's talent. Are you all right?" Worry furrowed Remus's brow. They shared a laugh, and Lyall nodded. "You're getting old."

"Yes, but I really do enjoy my work. And the invisible housekeeper is nice company."

He jerked his head towards towards the unseen Abe and imagined the apparition shrugging his shoulders. He stroked his chin, thinking about working until he dropped dead. At some point his age would really catch up with him, and Lyall really needed to pass his knowledge on instead of scribbling in books. He'd become a good friend of old Newt Scamander's because they were both like minded weirdos who sought comfort in uniqueness, and Lyall couldn't and wouldn't serve the magical community if he wasn't altogether there.

"When you die, have you considered hanging around with Abe?"

"And haunting places together?" The sides of Lyall's mouth twitched. Whenever he went to sleep for the last time, and he truly hoped to follow the natural order of things and go before Remus, he wished to stay at rest. "Death is lonely, but it's not really comforting to be stuck because here and there. Your mother and I had this conversation."

"Before she died?"

Lyall nodded.

Draining his first glass and pouring another, Remus rode on the liquid courage and apologized for the coward remark. He'd said it in the heat of the moment and wanted to make a statement, for he simply wanted to be heard, and Lyall waved his apology away. Remus wasn't going to forgive him today, and Lyall saw this as perfectly all right because they had to start somewhere.

A/N: Written for the Father's Day Challenge 2017 for the Golden Snitch. House: Hogwarts, Hufflepuff LunaStellaCat

Prompts: (emotion) love, (object) ring, (colour) bright orange, (colour) emerald green, (word) heirloom, (character) Fenrir Greyback, (word) lupis, (word) freak

Character: Lyall Lupin

100 points (posted within 48 hours)