Chapter Seven – Ways of Life

"Dad, you really didn't need to do-"

"-do all this, yes I know. You've said, Remus." Lyall finished, cutting off Remus' unfinished sentence and pressing a glass of mulled wine into his hand until Remus obediently closed his mouth with a resigned sigh.

It was the least he could do for his father to come home for Christmas, and he had happily agreed to do so. Whilst he remained determined to let his father finally have his well deserved life without worrying about him, Remus would be lying to say he did not miss his father. It wasn't like being at school for months at a time, there was something much more final about it.
Christmas in the Lupin household had been a small and cosy affair for as long as Remus remembered. Nothing was overdone or extravagant, nothing was even consistent when they moved all the time. They had no money for presents or much in the way of decoration. But Christmas had always meant his mother's cooking, a warm fire and the familiarity of his own little family, which no lack of money could ever have changed.

What had greeted Remus when he stepped back through the door that had flown open magically ahead of him had been like stepping back four years in his life. The smell of home cooked, and probably aided by magic, food and eggnog had wafted to his nose long before he'd stepped inside. A fire, warm and welcoming was burning in the hearth of the small home that somehow now seemed too big for one. For a second, just a moment in time, he could have sworn he heard his mother's voice welcoming him home and as his head spun towards the kitchen his heart sank. Of course she was not there. He would not hear her voice again.

Remus raised the glass of mulled wine and quietly drank while his father levitated another log onto the burning fire and settled into the chair opposite Remus. Garlands of holly and small silver baubles were decoratively, albeit slightly obnoxiously, placed around the room. This was more than they had done for Christmas in many years.

"This is the first time you've been home in six months, you hardly write." Lyall justified as he placed his glass down on the arm of the chair and smiled wearily. "This was the least I could do."
Of course Remus knew that was not true. All evening his father had been determined to prepare a meal the muggle way, which was far more than he'd ever tried before. There was no levitating dishes removing themselves from the oven or gravy that poured itself into the gravy boat, that alone spoke volumes about Lyall's efforts. "And besides," Lyall added, "There is very little cooking involved for you."

Remus chuckled softly. The set aside plate of near raw turkey had not escaped his notice. Home was one the few places he could really let his werewolf nature show. He could have his meat how he preferred it here, instead of forcing down the often overcooked pub meals that held little taste for him in order to appear a little more human.
His nose twitched a little and he darted his gaze toward the kitchen as the smell of burning potatoes wafted over to him. "Dad, they're burning."

"Bloody hell, I don't know how they manage without magic." Lyall dashed off to rescue the small tray of vegetables, his glass splashing over a little and sending trickles of liquid over the warm cup.

Remus smiled wryly to himself and took a long drink of his wine as his gaze drifted over to the mantlepiece and the photographs that lined it. In the centre sat family photograph from a time Remus could not even remember. He was just a little round faced four year old with bright green eyes and tiny hands that waved out of the glass at him. His parents, still young and free of the stress and worry that his infection had brought, stared out at the room with happy smiles and then turned their loving gaze to their tiny son. That had always been the favourite picture. A fine layer of dust coated the frames, unchanged and hardly moved in two years. The only new addition, and less dusty than the rest, had been taken at graduation. He rose slowly and picked up his father's glass, carrying both into the adjoining kitchen and placing them at the two place settings.

The lid of a serving platter dropped and spun noisily on the floor faster and faster until it came to a wobble and fell flat.
"For Merlin's sake…" Lyall muttered, shaking a mildly burnt hand. "Should have used magic."

"Yes, or just a tea towel. Dad...you don't need-nevermind." Remus cut himself off, shaking his head and stepping over to carefully pick up the fallen lid. "You have enough credit for trying it without magic."

Lyall sank into the other chair at the table, dusting his hands off as though he'd just accomplished something much greater than making dinner without using magic. "Food isn't quite the same when it isn't prepared the muggle way."

Halfway into his chair, plate of raw turkey in hand, Remus paused for a second and his movements slowed. Sorrow returned again. It had been two years and loss had grown little easier to handle. The third and now forever empty chair at the dining table would never be filled again and now that he looked automatically at it, he saw that the place had still been set for his mother.

Remus' chanced a look over at his father who was clearly trying to avoid the metaphorical elephant in his room. His eyes were as tired and sad as Remus had ever seen them, and there were a few nicks on his clean shaven face. He'd been shaking when he shaved. Amidst the sadness that had blanketed the two Lupin men, another flicker of guilt shot through Remus. He rose from his chair and circled the table to place a hand on his father's shoulder. He felt the sigh that escaped before a hand came up and covered his.
"I'm sorry, son. I'm really not much good at this, am I?"

"It's more than fine, Dad. In fact it's great that you want to do it her way, it's keeping her...here... Of course it's going to hurt. It's Christmas." And unbidden his eyes swam with tears which he tried to blink away and only succeeded in letting one fall. Wiping it away hastily, Remus stepped away and carefully refilled two glasses with wine. Pressing one into Lyall's hand as he wearily straightened up, they glanced towards the empty place setting, "To Mum."

"Happy Christmas, Hope."

xxxXxxx

"I will be sorry to see you go, Remus." Periwinkle rose from his seat behind the office desk and held out a hand to shake Remus'. "Your...bouts of illness aside, there is no denying that you were good with the birds."

That much was true. He had always had a natural inclination toward magical creatures, in no small part due to his father, and that had extended to animals magical and non magical alike. Owls were messy and temperamental birds, but he hadn't minded that a bit.

Remus held his first employment position at Eeylops for a whole six months before things began to get too close to comfort. For three more full moons he slipped out to close shop early, or swapped a long shift with Henri, a chatty blonde French wizard who had been hired as Vashti's replacement. For three more months he pretended not to see the strange looks in his employer's eyes when he arrived in the morning looking and feeling like he'd been through a war. For three months he tried to avoid revealing anything about himself and largely succeeded. But it was only a matter of time before Goodborn started to realise that it was always around a full moon when Remus vanished, sometimes for days at a time. The sickness excuse had worked well enough at Hogwarts, but he was no longer in school keeping secrets from other teenagers relatively unaware of what real life was like. He could depend no longer on the obliviousness of the youth too focussed on their own studies and relationships to notice him. His subtle early closures had happened one too many times to go unnoticed and at last he'd been caught when a customer had left a frustrated Howler pinned to the door about the shop being closed an hour before the sign had said. Whilst he had started as a model employee, determined to just keep his head down and get the work done, in his employer's eyes he had become unreliable.

It was safer to leave with a fraction of self-respect before he was either dismissed, or suspicions were raised.

"A word of advice, though. You are a smart young man, clearly a capable wizard. You could make something of yourself if you put in more effort."

Remus felt a slight pang of guilt at that remark. He had realistically only done what he had to do to avoid exposure and it had gone against everything that was in him determined to do the best that he could with the job that he had. But because of his unfortunate lot in life, and the lack of a childhood he had even had at all, he had seized his opportunity to go to Hogwarts as a way to prove himself. That was why he had tried so hard to belong, why of the four Marauders he had put his head down and quietly done the work. The worst part was that he knew Periwinkle was right, just like his friends were right, and his teachers had been right. He could have had a career, and a successful one if he played to his strengths. He had proven himself at school, but his grim reality meant it had no real applications. He could not stay longer. It was better this way.

"What's the matter with me, Daddy?"

"Lyall, please...he's still just a little boy-"

"Who should know what is happening to him." Lyall interrupted, sinking down onto the edge of his son's mattress where the little sandy haired boy lay sickly pale and clammy. The room had been re-transfigured into a six year old's bedroom from the bare wooden cage it had been for the night. Fourteen full moons had passed now, and each one was as impossible to bear as the last. It was an unimaginable suffering to hear their son screaming and be helpless to do anything for him. As Remus grew, so too did the wolf pup, it had already doubled in size, strength and aggression in just over a year. Every sunrise the little boy woke scared and sore with his room in tatters. When prompted, Remus remembered nothing but that was hardly a surprise. Every part of him took so much stress that when he returned to his human self, his body shut it out in a state of shock.
But even a six year old was bound to realise that what was happening to him was not normal.

"Lyall, please, he won't understand." Hope protested in a quiet voice that Remus was not meant to make out.

"But I want to." He had heard and as Lyall placed a hand over the clammy forehead he felt his son trembling with fear and weariness.

"He will if we let him, Hope. You're a clever boy aren't you, son?" He forced a smile which coaxed a little one from Remus in return.

Hope drew in a sharp intake of breath and turned away to hide her tears from Remus.

"Do you know what a werewolf is, Remus?"

Remus shook his head and burrowed deeper within the comforting blankets.

"A...werewolf is a…" and he prayed that Remus would not hear the catch in his voice as he forced himself to say the new reality he'd been forced to accept in the harshest of ways, "...is someone, who,,,turns into a wolf when the moon is biggest and round."

"Like a monster? The kind you stop when you go to work?"

It was only a fraction of a second, but it was a fraction of a second too long that it took Lyall to speak and he would remember that one moment too long forever, though Remus would never have noticed it.
"No. Not a monster, son. That's why you feel so sick sometimes."

"Why?"

"That's why it hurts so much at night, and why you can't remember what it was."

"Why, Dad? I don't know."

"Lyall…"

"Hope, please." Lyall sighed and reached over to ruffle his son's hair as he collapsed back tiredly on the pillow. His jaw shook as he tried to form the words. "You are a werewolf, Remus. But you must never tell anyone else."

"Understood." He settled for a resigned agreement and took the offered hand, shaking it once in a manner both awkward and professional at the same time. "Thank you."

The doorbell jingled it's familiar chime once more as, with cloak in hand, Remus walked away from his first job.

xxxXxxx

"Look, I never said anything about bloody well marrying the woman, just...you know, see where it goes."

Remus dropped his wand arm in disbelief and turned to round on Sirius with an exhausted glare. "Would you just drop it, already, Padfoot?"

"All I'm saying is you're clearly her type and I think she'd be into you."

"Her type?" Remus' eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion as Sirius feigned, very well, the very picture of innocence. But Sirius had talked far too much about the young Auror witch at the Ministry than was usual for him to fixate on a girl. The fact that he was trying to push her at Remus now said all he needed to know. The werewolf scoffed and turned to focus his attention on the damp grass and loose gravel ahead of them. "You just mean she won't go out with you."

"Absolutely no-alright, fine. Believe me I tried."

"You? Never, you give up so easily."

"Hackles down, Moony, I'm not arguing."

The two wizards fell into silence for a few moments that Remus was incredibly grateful for. A rumble of thunder overhead heralded the light dusting of rain that began to fall. He turned up the collar of his warmest coat, a less than cleverly "re-gift" Sirius had claimed was from his parents in sixth year. The sleeves were already bordering on too short for Remus' height. Save for a lonely park bench there was nothing but patches of grass and mud that squelched underfoot.

"She's very much not into me and you're basically...well the anti-me. So therefore…"

"Shut up. Not going to happen, not the least reason of which is because she's an auror. Why don't you throw Peter at her instead?"

"Ah, minor details…"

Remus sighed, fast becoming annoyed with Sirius' determination and his grip tightened slightly on his wand. A muscle twitched in his jaw as he restrained himself from responding.

A cool breeze suddenly came from above and briefly swept past, flashing a glance of disembodied feet in the beam of light across the gravel path. A moment later James appeared, hovering at head height off the ground with his left side comically invisible as he tossed the cloak over his arm. "Anything down here?"

"Nothing. No enchantments, no signs of life at all yet." Remus shook his head and pushed a strand of damp hair away that had become stuck to his forehead. "You?"

"Not that I could see before I got too close for my legs to be visible." James turned and pointed ahead of them towards a rise. "The only thing ahead of you is a manky old pond on the other side of the hill that's half frozen. If they've hidden here, they've done it well."

"Bugger this for a game of Gobstones then."

"Soldiers. It's bugger this for a game of soldiers." Remus rolled his eyes, although Sirius' moderately successful attempt at mimicking a saying he'd only heard in passing from muggle strangers was mildly amusing.

"That's stupid, it doesn't make any sense."

"No, Padfoot, if Dumbledore thinks there's something here then there is something here."

Sirius huffed out a long breath of air that turned to mist in front of him and nodded his shoulder. "I do so hate it when you're right, Prongs. I think I'll cover more ground on four paws then." Without so much as a cursory glance around to ensure they were in fact alone, Sirius tossed his head and shrunk down to his canine form. Barking once at his comrades he turned and bounded away toward the hill.

Remus and James followed the dog with their gaze until his black fur disappeared into the night and then exchanged a glance with each other.

His exasperation must have been written on Remus' face as James grinned and began to swing the invisibility cloak back around his shoulders. "Won't shut up, huh?"

"If he's half that talkative during your Auror assignments…."

"Believe it or not, I've never seen Sirius more...serious than when we're in the field. He hasn't grown up very much, but he has a little. Check back in twenty?"

"Right." Remus nodded and as James soared back into the air, he was alone. Perhaps it wasn't the smartest idea to have split up already, given the amount of Death Eater activity that Dumbledore had suspected, but if Remus was honest, he had his doubts that they would use the same locations frequently and the danger was likely minimal.

He had hardly trudged longer than another minute before the wind shifted and he paused with one foot half off the ground. The rain had set in to a light yet constant misting, raising with it the smell of wet grass and dirt. That in itself was a scent so familiarly English that even his heightened sense of smell was less sensitive to it now. So keen and well honed were the senses of a werewolf that he could distinguish scents immediately apart from the wet, and as the breeze had lifted and buffeted his slightly too long hair, on it wafted a smell he recognised too well.

Like a hound on the trail of a fox, Remus' face snapped to the left sharply.

Veering off the gravel path, he trudged with long strides across mud and grass towards a thick patch of overgrown shrubbery that Padfoot had bypassed at the foot of the hill he had disappeared over. Werewolf. He could smell it in the air but it was faint. Whoever it was was not close by now, but they had been. He stopped and turned on the spot, jaw angled up a fraction and nostrils flaring.

"But where did you go?" He mused aloud. Why Apparate from here of all places? The scent went no further, there was no more trail to track. Remus sighed and ran a hand over his face, hoping James had not seen his diversion from the air and had just turned back when his foot nudged something. Light spilled across his shoes as he cast his wandlight down and beneath the bush something metallic flashed in the light. Remus crouched and grunted a little as he folded his lanky frame in half to reach below for the object. It happened the moment his fingers closed upon what felt like a handle. There was a sharp tug at his naval and before Remus had a moment to even process what was happening he was hurtling through space, every part of him felt like it was being pulled through a straw all at once.

Remus landed with a loud thud flat on hard ground. Groaning in pain from the impact of the landing and nausea at the teleportation he slowly pushed himself up. A metallic scratching pierced his ears for a moment before he remembered to let go and stared at the copper kettle he had just dropped.

"A bloomin' portkey…" He mused out loud as he pushed himself to his feet, pain shooting through his knees where they had collided hard with the solid and grassless land on which he had fallen. Wherever he was, it was not raining. Regaining his bearings and senses,Remus turned slowly to take in his surroundings. He could smell salt in the air and when he strained he heard the distant roar of waves crashing against rock beneath the sound of the wind. The portkey, no doubt not meant for him, had brought him near the coast. He had landed at the foot of a long pathway that vanished over a small rise and in the distance the dark shape of a cliffside shack with windows alight appeared.
Remus' heart sped up. They'd used a portkey to hide the true whereabouts of this meeting place, for that was what he was sure it was. It would have been smarter to memorise the location, disapparate immediately and return again with greater numbers. He did not do so.

Fortune was already on his side that no one had been waiting for him and killed him on sight. With a swish and a flick, Remus levitated the kettle safely out of view behind an overgrown patch of weeds so he could find it again and, with strides long and light, took off at a jog toward the house.
Wand in hand, he slowed his pace as he drew closer, every moment fighting his better judgement to leave while he could. Though the smell of the ocean was greatly overpowering, there was the ever present, and ever stronger scent of his own kind. But if, and it had to be, he had quite literally stumbled upon the Death Eaters…that had to mean...
A sudden sense of dread forced him to a stand still. Slowly he crouched, sinking low behind a crumbling stone wall and peered around carefully, straining his green eyes for any shred of evidence of Death Eater activity.
The wind was in his favour at least. It carried their scent to him and with any luck at all, they did not yet know he was near. What he wouldn't give to have the invisibility cloak now. His right hand tightened on his wand as he strained every sense to hear or see what was happening without getting closer. But he'd wanted to prove his usefulness to the Order...this was his chance. He could not come this far and then leave without a shred of information.

The light that glowed from the nearest window flickered slightly as, with the hair on the back of his neck standing on end, Remus edged ever nearer until he could hear the low murmur of voices. A shadow past by the window and Remus threw himself flat on the ground as the curtains were brushed aside. He dared not move. It was unlikely he would be seen in the darkness yet, but with face pressed against the ground he did not know when to lift his head.

Until he did.