The Call of the Moon

Chapter Twenty-Seven

There is a suffering too powerful to put into words, a grief that pulls you so deeply into its clutches it feels easier to sink rather than try to swim. The loss of unconditional love is a pain that leaves a hole in mind, spirit and heart, and an all too tangible ache where something that once was is stripped away.

Yes, it was the natural order of things that a child should outlive their parents, but sixteen years is not enough time to have them. There is never enough time for a parent's love for their children.

The sheer void of nothingness came first like a wave of nothing but shock when Remus tore into the room as the distraught heaving cries of a new widower filled the house before the sun even could. His heart seemed to stop in his chest for a moment and then all at once beat so quickly it was the only sound he could hear as blood rushed from his face and drowned out Lyall's cries. He stood petrified in the doorway, green eyes transfixed on the unmoving figure on the bed.

Hope's eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted as if the breath of life had only just left her. A still, stiff hand hung from the bed, clutched desperately by her husband on his knees beside her, nothing, not even knowing it would happen had or could have prepared them for this.

And then sound flooded back into the world and pain shot through Remus' legs as his knees hit the floor and a choked sort of sound broke out of his throat. When exactly his feet had carried him over to the bedside he couldn't remember but the next thing he knew was being pulled into a crushing embrace as great wracking sobs shook his whole body.

"She's gone-it's over…it's over…oh Merlin, she's gone…"

And as those words left his father's mouth his arms shaking around Remus's shoulders, the boy gasped in a hurried breath and dissolved into a long mournful cry that could only be described as a howl. His whole mind was blank of anything but grief and his heart, every other part of his nature had taken over. Had he had more than a second to process the wolf rearing its head inside in sorrow he would have loathed himself for the animalistic sound before his whole body collapsed and ceased fighting the support his father was offering.
Muffled sounds between sobs and whimpers were all he could manage as he slumped into his father's embrace and the tears began to flood from his eyes.
Slowly he reached out, his hand unbidden by his brain at first, and touched the cold and still one of his mother. Immediately he sucked in a breath and jerked his fingers back. He'd been expecting it, he knew what happened after death, but the icy cold of her skin still shocked him so much he couldn't stifle a small cry. There is no forgetting the first real, tangible exposure to death.
She still looked the same, gone quietly in her sleep, but at the same time different. Her prematurely grey hair fanned out on the pillow but there was no movement of breath in her body anymore, no flickering behind the eyelids to suggest dream. Hope Lupin was there, but at the same time she wasn't. His mother wasn't this cold dead person there on the bed. She was warm and loving and protective beyond all else.

And now she was gone.

xxxXxxx

The small house suddenly seemed too big. The house Remus had barely began to call home, like so many others they had moved between, seemed too empty and not at all like home anymore. There was an empty void where Hope should have been and nothing could even fill it again.
Remus hadn't slept that following night and only did the next when his father had brought him a Sleeping Draught and insisted he drink it. But even that didn't stop him overhearing his dad's mournful weeping through the walls as he curled into a ball and surrendered to the effects of the potion. Whole days passed in near silence between father and son, both too upset and terrified to accept the reality of what had happened to make any conversation.

Three days passed, three torturous days of trying to think of something, anything, else and to stomach down even the smallest bite of food. Three days of trying and failing to get his father to stop frantically pacing and trying to do everything himself.
The hoot of an owl made Remus snap out of the daze he'd drifted off into staring at the dying embers in the fireplace and turn to look over his shoulder.

They'd had four letters in the week since Remus had come home. Two which he still left unopened on his nightstand both with James' handwriting on the envelope. They'd all be home for the holidays now but he couldn't bear to have to deliver the news to anyone. Another from Dumbledore had arrived yesterday with the deepest of condolences to the small family, and a fourth containing sympathetic condolences from the Ministry and Lyall's entitlement to compassionate leave.

But this owl didn't seem to be delivering.

It was perched on the kitchen windowsill preening its feather and holding out a leg expectantly as his father began to attach a letter.

"Who's that going to?"

For a second Remus didn't even recognise his own voice it was so hoarse and promptly cleared his throat. His father jumped, ever on edge and unready as his son took him by surprise and looked over his shoulder at Remus.
"Oh…uh…your grandparents…"

To be perfectly honest Remus had almost forgotten he had living grandparents. He hadn't seen them in over ten years, and as far as they knew he was always away at boarding school. At least that wasn't entirely a lie.
When he became a werewolf, there were no more visitors of any kind, magical or muggle. Hope already had to hide the magical world from them, she couldn't risk them knowing their only grandchild was a werewolf too. So all communication with the Howells had to be restricted to unmoving photographs and letters and telephone calls she would make in the village, finding excuse after excuse for them not to visit from Wales.
And with the amount they had to move homes, there were only so many times she could tell them they had a new address before "Lyall travels for work" started to get suspicious.

But of course…they didn't know.

He just nodded to himself before it struck him just as Lyall pulled his hand away from the owl.

"Muggles, Dad!" He cried with such unexpected volume that his father whacked his hand hard on the windowsill as he spun around.

The owl gave an indignant hoot, the letter now attached, and spread its wings to take off. Remus moved faster though and managed to catch the bird by the leg and earn himself a sharp peck on the hand as he quickly untied the letter. Not wishing to stay and be insulted any longer the postal owl screeched and took off in such a hurry it shed a few feathers.

Poor Lyall didn't seem to even have noticed what was wrong yet and Remus shook his head and handed the letter back to him.
"You can't send them owl post, remember? They're muggles."

In a moment it seemed to sink in, the heavy circles around his eyes grew darker as Lyall groaned and rubbed his exhausted face. "How stupid…and the blasted muggle post won't arrive in time….even if I could remember how many stamps to use."

The anguish was still fresh and written in every line of Lyall's worn out expression, the grief too raw for clear thinking. Placing a hand on his father's shoulder Remus sighed quietly. "Telephone, Dad…you have to do it like them."

Despite having a muggle parent, Remus did not know very much more about muggle life than any other wizard. Sure he knew what a telephone was and had a basic understanding of muggle technology like electricity in place of magic, but so sheltered had he been through his childhood that he knew far less than his classmates thought. Barely being allowed to go further than the backyard would have that effect on someone.

And for a moment, that was all it took for his father to break again, his shoulders dropped and, nearly as tall as his father now, Remus had to support him. His shoulders trembled with silent sobs unable to face the prospect of doing such a very muggle things without his wife. "I can't remember- I just….she would always…"

"I know, but you have to use it like them."

xxxXxx

It was snowing the day of the funeral. Barely there, and only just starting to fall but it was snowing.

Hope had loved the snow. One particularly vivid memory Remus had of his childhood was building a snowman in the yard with his mother and laughing wildly when he had accidentally made a handful of snow soar through the air. He had only been six.

It was the furthest Remus had ever been outside this house in the village as he walked side by side with his father, the weight of where they were going a heavy cloud above them both.
It was pretty at least, the hillside where the church and the cemetery was. They'd hardly lived here long enough to call it home, but really the same could have been said for almost any of the houses.
It was a very small service, a humble affair only affordable by the insistence of his grandparents to pay for it. A small mercy as what little money they did have was in wizarding currency. Even the coat Remus was wearing had come from Sirius whom he knew had only pretended his parents had sent him so he could have an excuse to blatantly refuse it and make Remus take it.

It wasn't until he saw the mound of upturned earth beside the open grave that Remus began to choke up again. A lump in his throat formed instantly that was so painful he could barely swallow it back.
"Remus?"

He hadn't even noticed his feet had stopped moving until he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder pulling him forward. Letting out a breath through his teeth he forced himself onwards. The joy he'd allowed himself to finally begin to feel in his life had all gone, everything was shadows and sadness once again.

And then they were there, standing right beside the chestnut coffin, and he had reached out to touch the wood and recoiled right away. He turned and rubbed his hands over his face, ignoring the comforting arm around his shoulders as a stray tear slid down his cheek.

"John…Elsie…"

The arm slid from his shoulders and the voice that was definitely his father somehow sounded nothing at all like him. It was strained and uncomfortable and there was an air of something like shame in it. He turned his head slightly, wiping his eyes hastily in vain as another tear fell anyway.

"Lyall…"

And then there they were.

John and Elsie Howell. His muggle grandparents, still far too young to have to bury their daughter, were there standing in front of them.

It was like just like looking fifty years into the future for a second. He hadn't seen them since he was a little child but even Remus could see that his grandfather must have looked just like him. They had the same jaw, the same shape of the eyes and some far away part of his memory thought he heard his mother's voice again.
"Sometimes he just looks so much like my dad."

For just a minute it was as though it wasn't a funeral that had reintroduced them. John and Lyall were shaking hands and, as if they hadn't suddenly vanished from each other's lives, Elsie had pulled her son in law into a fierce hug, and then their eyes found Remus.

"Good lord…look at you all grown up."

Before he could open his mouth he felt the warm embrace of a grandmother which suddenly made him want to cry all over again. "Oh Remus…"

"You were knee high to a grasshopper last time we saw ye." The Welsh accent was so strong that it took Remus' brain a few extra seconds to properly understand his grandfather. "You must be…"

"Sixteen." His voice came out quiet and soft, like he couldn't quite remember how to speak properly it was such a surreal moment.

And then a gentle hand was cupping his cheek, as if Elsie were trying to memorise his face. But it had been so long for them to never see their only grandchild that he only recoiled a little when he saw her eyes tracing the scars on his face. All at once he was self-conscious again, embarrassed at what he must look like to them. There was no magical tree to blame that sort of injury on now.

His green eyes feel to the ground slowly being dusted in white snow and he turned his cheek away slightly.

"Hope never said…" Elsie started, the mention of her name earning a shuddering gasp from Lyall, and automatically Remus lifted the collar of his coat as if that would do anything at all to hide his face.
Then a quiet sob and whatever his grandmother had been about to say changed mid-sentence. He knew she wanted to ask.

"How handsome a young man you'd become…"

He tried a small smile, which only crinkled the scar that spanned across his lips and fell away lamely and John's arms encircled his shoulders.
"I'm so sorry, lad…but all she ever wrote to us was how proud she was her son."

Remus let out a kind of choked sob at that and withdrew himself, pulling himself away and curling into himself trying the only way he knew how to control his emotions, and as he looked up, trying to stem the tears filling his eyes, he saw them.

Coming through the cemetery gate, were three very familiar faces. But he hadn't even told him about the funeral.

James, Sirius and Peter all stood respectfully back from the grieving family as Remus moved back over to his father's side and used the shovel to drop the second heavy lump of earth onto the coffin. It seemed to echo in his mind, a painful reminder of the finality of the action.

Only when it was over, and Remus had taken a few steps away from his family to take a breath did his friends approach. He wiped his wet face with the back of his hand and reluctantly looked up to meet James' eyes.
"How did you know?"

"My dad works at the Ministry, remember?" Peter answered, and offered Remus a small smile "He saw the letter they sent."

"You didn't think we wouldn't be here for you, did you?" James placed a hand on Remus' shoulder and Remus looked back down at the ground. "I'm so sorry, mate…"

"Yeah…well…" He didn't have the words to finish his sentence, but their support meant the world to him, even if he didn't have the courage to tell them it had happened at all. "Thanks, guys…"

"What are you boys doing here? I didn't realise Remus had told…"

"Mr Lupin…we wanted to come pay our respects."

Sirius both looked and sounded far more sombre and…well, serious, than Remus had ever seen as he held out a hand to his father who had just appeared at his shoulder. The older wizard shook it slowly, and, in the longest interaction he had ever had with his son's friends offered a small but grateful smile.

"That's…that's very kind."

"Remus is our friend, there's nowhere else we'd be." James added and Remus actually saw the moment that trust flickered in his father's eyes, and then something brought back the sting of tears.
In that moment he knew they were both thinking the same thing. It was the only thing Hope had wanted for Remus. Friends. True, real friends he could trust.

The comfort and support he felt for a moment was nice, and real. But no amount of kind words or comfort would ever do anything to lesson the physical ache that Remus felt in his chest. The sheer absence of a loved one that leaves a hole which can never, ever be filled, a hole which is actually tangible right in the centre of one's chest.

The loss of his mother had a profound effect on Remus which changed him in that moment and forever.

His sixth year at Hogwarts was darkened from then.