Whisper in the Mist
By: HeadintheCloudsForever
1
IN appearance, Grandpa was nothing special, five-year-old Teddy Remus Lupin thought, but when he opened his mouth, it was like hearing a bird sing for the first time.
Lyall Lupin was old, and his deep wrinkles seemed to carve a map of his life on his still agile and mobile facial features.
His twinkling light brown eyes that were so much like his dad's eyes, were framed by thick white eyebrows and on his stubbled chin were white whiskers. His bright brown eyes shone in the greying clouds above their heads as his teeth shone with a fresh white gleam that spelled mischief.
Though the aging wizard's smile faltered the moment his son and daughter-in-law came up behind Teddy and Remus knelt to scoop the five-year-old up by his armpits, before settling him on top of his shoulders, allowing him to ride piggyback through the cemetery so he wouldn't get his jeans muddy, much to Nymphadora's growing amusement.
"Grandpa?" came Teddy Remus Lupin's quiet, shy voice, reserved, like that of his father.
Lyall chuckled and watched out of the corner of his eye as his grandson accidentally seized on a tuft of Remus's hair and pulled it a little too tightly.
Lupin winced, pulling a face, but he bit down on his bottom lip to keep from crying out in pain.
Lyall glanced up at his grandson, having to crane his neck slightly to do it, given how Remus was much taller than he was, standing a good head or two taller at around 6'3. Or was it 6'2? He couldn't remember, not that it mattered.
He smiled, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards as he reached up a warbling hand to tousle the boy's thick tuft of light brown hair that was in dire need of trimming two weeks ago, wondering if he'd have to do it again.
Dora Lupin always forgot to give the boy his haircuts on time. There was something about Teddy Remus Lupin that drew people to him. Lyall guessed it didn't hurt that he was a good-looking boy, but it was more than that.
He was quiet, but not out of painful shyness. It was a reservedness, like a conscious choice to observe the lie of the land before he got involved.
Yet he wasn't stand-offish, he remained friendly faced and welcoming in body posture. It wasn't like he sat down one day and planned to be like that, it's just the way he was.
Lyall never saw him go out and deliberately make a friend, they just came to him. He inherited that trait from his mother.
There was nothing threatening about him, nothing at all. He was an easy listener, a good audience, giving encouraging feedback laced with intelligent comments.
He worked hard, he got his work done around the house at home when told to.
"What is it, Teddy?" he questioned, eager to appease his only grandson, almost able to sense the question just begging to be asked, burning on the tip of his little tongue.
There wasn't a question Teddy couldn't ask around his grandfather. No matter what, Lyall answered.
Teddy hesitated, biting down on his bottom lip, as if unsure whether or not to continue, before unclenching one of his little fists and digging into the pockets of his coat.
In his hand was a crumpled and worn photograph, torn off at the edges, yellowed slightly, from the curse of time and old age.
Lyall's heart sank to the pit of his churning stomach as the five-year-old boy unfurled his fist and held out the photograph to his mother.
Tonks furrowed her brows into a frown and gingerly plucked the mysterious picture from her son's hand with her thumb and forefinger.
"Teddy," she began in a cautious tone that was slightly clipped and hard as she glanced down at the contents of the photograph clutched in the palm of her hand. "Where on Merlin's green earth did you get this? Do you have something you want to tell your father and me?" Tonks asked in a slightly impatient voice. "And please don't think of lying to us, Teddy Bear," she warned, her voice low.
If it was at all possible, Teddy's face turned as bright crimson as a fresh tomato, and he suddenly had trouble averting his mother's piercing grey eyes as they narrowed.
"Um, I—I found it in your room, Grandpa!" he squeaked, burying his head in his father's hair, as if suddenly afraid to look into his grandfather's eyes and see the dawning look of sadness welling within the man's eyes.
His voice hitched unexpectedly, and Teddy fell silent.
Remus's already pallid features, still rather peaky looking as Lyall's son was coming down off this month's full moon, drained of colors and the proud father opened his mouth to argue.
Lyall sensed an imminent danger, as his son had inherited his temper, that Remus was about to severely discipline his son, for venturing into Lyall's bedroom unsupervised and taking something that did not belong to him. He did not want to see his grandson get in trouble, and it was this that decided to save Teddy further embarrassment by intervening on the young boy's behalf.
"It's quite all right, Remus. Nymphadora. Truly, it is," he muttered in a quiet, somber voice as he reached up and patted Remus affectionately on his shoulder. "It isn't his fault. He's just a boy, you two. Boys are curious little creatures, aren't they?" he added with a soft chuckle.
His laugh it did not meet his eyes as he finally caught a glimpse of the photograph his grandson had managed to wander off with, probably last weekend when his parents brought him over that Friday night to spend the weekend with him and take two days to themselves to go see the sights of Sussex.
A pang of inexplicable sadness began to well in his chest, spreading like a fiery warmth from the confines of his heart, now little more than a throbbing, corded mass of muscle that pumped blood relentlessly into his veins, as his gaze met the subject of the photograph.
A young woman with long brown wavy locks and twinkling eyes stared back at Lyall, her kind white smile still sending his heart careening and faltering, even after all these years without her, Hope's death still ached, paining him like it was just yesterday.
The picture clutched in Teddy's hand as the proud parents and Lyall made their way towards a wooden bench so that Lyall could take a seat, his lumbago in his aging years catching up to him after an hour walk in the park, was like a Time-Turner for Lyall.
One glance and he was thirty again, with his life stretched before him, all the decisions that lay between his present self and his past self were unmapped, anything felt like it was possible to Lyall.
How impossible that it seemed all those day-to-day decisions would take him across these long, lonely years to where he sat now, still quite content with his life, and yet, without his lovely Hope by his side, still feeling like an integral part of his life was missing, because it bloody was.
If he had not been combing the forest that day, the two of them never would have met, and if he hadn't, then where would he be now? Certainly not here, Lyall knew.
When his wife died a few years ago, Lyall Lupin had never experienced grief quite this bad before, save for perhaps that ill-fated night when Remus was bitten by Fenrir Greyback, the guilt of his remarks made towards the savage werewolf would haunt Lyall until his dying breath.
But then it started up for him again when he lost his wife, his world, his hero.
It snuck up on Lyall quietly and took the wizard six feet under its arms in a mere instant. Every memory played like a Celestina Warbeck song on repeat, repeating itself in Lyall's mind for what seemed like forever.
He was lost because mostly he had lost a big part of himself. He could not get that part back, and Lyall wanted it so badly as his life depended on his Hope, but she was gone, vanished, into thin air, dead a few years.
Lyall couldn't say that it got better as the days passed, but it did get easier.
At first, Lyall thought that grief was something bad that took him ten feet under the ground, rendering him unable to breathe, to think at all, but soon, he learned, it was just the price he had to pay for daring to fall in love with a young Muggle girl from Cardiff.
The grief came in waves and threatened to consume him entirely. It was his master, for now. He was at the mercy of its whims and at times it bit at him with such ferocity Lyall feared it would leave him an empty shell.
"Mr. Lupin? Are you all right?" came his daughter-in-law's concerned sounding voice.
Lyall blinked and sanguinely turned his head to look at Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin, whose delicately arched brows were furrowed in a concerned frown.
He felt a light blush speckle on his cheeks. He'd spaced out again. Lyall coughed once to clear his throat, to stop himself from letting his mind drift to dark, desolate places again, turned to look at his grandson, now sitting happily sandwiched in between his mother and father. Seeing how happy the young boy was lifted Lyall's broken spirit greatly.
Unfortunately, his grandson, sensing he was being watched, slowly and almost methodically turned his head, and asked the one question that very nearly crushed his grandfather's heart right there on the spot on the bench.
"Why don't you ever talk about Grandma?" Teddy asked in a casual, nonchalant voice.
The boy was merely curious, and for that, Lyall couldn't blame him, though just the mere mention of Hope caused his throat to hollow and constrict.
"Teddy!" came Remus's admonishing voice as his son lowered his harsh, rough sounding tone that, thanks to the nature of his transformations post-full moon, always sounded rather hoarse and weak for four or five days after his full-moon cycle. "That's enough," he growled angrily.
"No, no, Remus, don't. This isn't necessary," Lyall snapped, his own temper swelling to the surface as he raised a hand to stop his son's temper from imploding. "It's quite all right."
His light brown eyes twinkled as they drifted downward and rested on the photograph of Hope he had taken shortly after the two of them met and started dating.
As a young child who had been taught by his parents not to judge others based on their looks or occupations, Teddy was too young to understand the troubles that his grandfather had faced since Hope's death.
And as such, because of this, Teddy did not have a grasp on the daily struggle his grandfather faced without Hope by his side, and he was unaware of the wound he had inflicted.
Only when his grandfather pointedly turned his head away and averted his gaze from his little family, did Teddy realize he may have said something wrong.
With a look of concern, Teddy did not protest as Lyall reached out with a slightly trembling hand and gingerly plucked the photograph from his grandson's clutches, proceeding to hold the picture of his deceased wife with such a painstaking tenderness that almost physically ached to look at.
Lyall let out a haggard sigh, thinking that the time had finally come. Teddy was old enough to understand.
Surely, taking an evening to tell the story of how his grandfather met his grandmother couldn't hurt?
Though his heart ached horribly and though he smiled at his grandson, hoping to silently convey to the boy and to Remus and Tonks that he was going to be just fine, the mask of happiness, that false bravado, now plastered onto his lined and weathered features didn't work to trick his mind.
Ah, but Merlin, if only it were that simple, yes. Once again, Lyall's heart ached, only this time, there was an added layer of salt on top of his already tender heart, and for a moment, Lyall thought revisiting his memories of his sweet beloved Hope might send his mind utterly insane.
But…there was no point in concealing the truth from his grandson forever. The boy should know of his familial history.
All of it. The good parts…and the bad.
Lyall sighed.
"Would you like to hear the story of how your grandmother, and I met, Teddy Bear?" he asked, the beginnings of a coy little smirk tugging at the edges of his lips as he affectionately used Teddy's mother's nickname for the boy, chuckling as the boy scrunched his nose, though he smiled at his grandfather and eagerly nodded.
Teddy glanced to his parents for confirmation, who exchanged a brief, concerned look, but quickly nodded their consent.
"Can we go home now, Grandpa?" he asked, shuddering as a particularly cold gust of wind wafted through the park and he shrunk down into his coat for warmth as much as possible, pulling the red woolen hat that Mrs. Weasley had knitted for him down further over his head and completely covering his light brown hair.
Lyall hesitated, just for a fraction of a second as he and Remus and Tonks rose from their perches on the bench, brushing their hands on the seats of their pants.
Lyall flinched as a jolt of pain shot from his legs and traveled its way up and down his spine. The old man had long since forgotten what it felt like to have joints that moved freely, without pain.
His aches were his constant companions, not friends, but always with him. His memories both warmed and haunted him, sometimes drawing a smile and other times a tear.
And time was the thief he always suspected her to be, taking his wife, taking his friends, but none of that mattered to Lyall anymore.
A stray wisp of Teddy's bangs was stuck to his forehead, despite his best efforts to bury it beneath his little knitted hat. Lyall chuckled tiredly as he brushed it away with a careful tenderness, before lowering his arm and allowing Teddy to grip onto his hand, almost crushing his fingers in his ironclad grip.
The boy was terrified of Apparating and hated every second of the experience.
But Lyall shot his grandson a tender smile, hoping to alleviate some of the five-year-old's fears, knowing the sensation would be only within a fraction of a second, before Teddy so much as had time to blink an eye.
"Okay," Lyall replied gruffly. "Let's go home, Ted."
Lyall Lupin's small cottage was perched on the plains near the woods, so old and poor how it was still standing surprised even the rest of Lupin's neighbors.
And yet, despite this fact, it seemed alive and welcoming, a warm ribbon of smoke rising from the old, lopsided brick chimney.
The walls were made of the same wood and the roof was very clearly stone, so old, that it was a wonder how it had not yet caved in under the curse of the elements.
The cottage was the only thing here. Lyall's closest neighbors were about a mile or so away, and his home would have looked abandoned were it not for the smoke.
Half an hour later, their trip home delayed because Teddy was hungry, and Lyall had insisted on treating his son, wife, and grandson, to dinner before heading back to his cottage, a quaint little Muggle diner he'd taken Hope to on one of their first dates following the incident in the woods, Teddy sat happily perched in a chair that was just his size in front of the roaring fire in the fireplace, seated cross-legged, while his dad brought steaming mugs of hot chocolate for everyone.
The hot chocolate Dad made had to be milk—all milk—with two heaped spoonfuls of a mixture that contained real cocoa.
Remus couldn't abide by the stuff that was just flavoring and sugar. He'd rather have just milk with a dash of vanilla than that wretched trash.
"Here you are, Ted. Be careful, it's hot," Lupin warned, a note of concern laced throughout his voice.
"Thanks, Daddy," Teddy chirped happily, winding his hands around the mug of hot cocoa, plucking all the marshmallows out that had been floating at the top of the beverage, and eating those first thing, claiming he didn't like them soggy, much to his mother's amusement, as Tonks erupted into a giggling fit from her spot on the sofa.
Lupin, meanwhile, looked rather dumbfounded and perplexed by his son's behavior but chose not to question it.
"Are you sure, Dad? You don't have to do this, you know. Teddy can wait a while," Remus questioned, raising his eyebrows at the hunched-over form of his frail father seated in his wooden rocking chair, his fingers laced together as he looked at his son with a gleam in his eyes.
Lyall immediately fixed his son with a pointed glower, his light brown eyes narrowing until they were mere slits, causing Remus to shirk away as Tonks draped an arm over her husband's shoulder and pulled Remus close for support. He was briefly reminded of Lord Voldemort whenever his father narrowed his piercing gaze like this.
To say it unnerved Remus greatly was something of an understatement, and when Lyall spoke to his son, there were the briefest hints of annoyance seeping its way unbidden to the surface of his normally kind, quiet voice.
"A boy should know his grandmother," Lyall Lupin answered in a quiet, somber voice that reflected the brief tinge of melancholy now flickering its way in Lyall's eyes.
Remus did not look entirely convinced, sensing the way his father's shoulders drooped, that Lyall was tired.
"If you're sure," Remus mumbled, not sure what else to say, glancing down at Dora's left hand that rested on top of his thigh.
Lyall was growing more and more wrinkled with each day, looking as though he had too much skin to cover his wilting frame.
His face was fading to an almost ashy grey color, looking as though dust had begun to gather on him.
Remus could remember a time in his life when his father had looked every bit the powerful man and wizard that he knew Lyall Lupin to be, but now, Lyall had lost his youthful and handsome look, thanks to the stressors of raising a werewolf for a son, and for a moment, Remus felt guilty.
Lyall Lupin was clean-shaven, and his brown hair flecked with bits of grey was trimmed rather short, revealing a decrepit mask where every wrinkle, blemish, and imperfection could be seen for all to view.
Remus hurt like hell when he looked at his father like he was doing now. He wished to remember the strong wizard his father had been, the strong-willed and merciful Ministry employee, the gentle and caring father, the adoring and passionate husband to his mother, Hope, Merlin bless her soul.
Yet when Remus looked upon Lyall now, all he could see was a wizened and frightened old man near the brink. As he looked upon him, Remus could not help but wonder if his father was more scared of living or of dying.
The old man hunched over in his lounge chair, leaning closer to the fire, edging his hands towards the flames to warm them from the bitter evening. The light from the flames illuminated his tired, worn face, wrinkles boring deeply into his skin. His expression was of frustration and fatigue.
The world seemed no place for this man; he had had enough. Lyall Lupin had stories to tell, experience danced on his lips like a curious child. And yet he stayed silent, those listless eyes just watching, not telling, fire adorning his weather-beaten, lined skin.
His son's voice pierced the silence between them, effectively pulling Remus from his thoughts of his father as he looked towards Teddy, who was, in turn, looking at his grandfather, his little brows furrowed together in confusion, before he gingerly rose from his comfortable spot in front of the fireplace, and silently tried to give back the photograph he had stolen to his grandfather.
Teddy bit down on his bottom lip and nervously shifted his weight from one stockinged foot to the other, actively averting Lyall's gaze, which was looking rather questioning now.
The five-year-old boy parted his lips open slightly to speak, but when he tried to find his voice, all that came out was a breathy little squeak, a strangled attempt at speech.
Remus waited with bated breath, wondering if his grandfather would eventually run out of patience with his grandson, but the moment for Lyall never came. Not once.
Lyall merely proceeded to look at Teddy with a calm, interested expression as he cocked his head to the side and patiently waited for his grandson to collect his thoughts.
When Teddy did finally manage to regain control of his voice, Remus felt Dora give a start at how weak and hoarse his voice sounded, so incredibly small and meek.
"Here, Grandpa," Teddy managed to croak out in a hoarse sounding gasp, the boy not realizing he had a chocolate mustache forming on his upper lip from his hot chocolate, which earned a light smile from his grandfather.
Lyall started at the photograph in his grandson's outstretched hand for a moment, struggling to find his words.
After a moment of hesitation, he raised his hand to the photograph, making a motion like he was going to take it, Remus and Tonks noticed, but what he did next surprised the young parents.
Instead of taking it, as Lupin and Tonks had suspected Lyall would do, the tired old man merely let out a tired sigh and curled the five-year-old's fingers protectively over the tattered, worn picture of Hope.
"Keep it, Teddy," Lyall muttered in a quiet, somber voice. "I have my memories of your grandmother to keep her spirit alive in my heart. You ought to be able to remember her as your grandmother. But your grandpa? I remember her as my wife. Someday, you'll understand, Teddy," he said.
Lyall reached out a hand and playfully poking Teddy in his chest, not protesting one bit when the five-year-old wizard in the making clambered onto his lap, resulting in affectionate smiles from both of his parents.
"But I want to understand now," Teddy whined, sticking out his bottom lip in a slight pout, biting on it.
Lyall chuckled at his grandson's eagerness, waiting for Nymphadora and Remus to get themselves situated as they found a pair of pillows to use as back support.
The two parents sensed Lyall had quite a story to tell their son, and if they were going to be here a while, they might as well get comfortable and listen to the man tell his tale of how he met the woman who would one day become his wife, and then eventually, the grandmother to Teddy Remus Lupin.
Teddy squirmed in Lyall's lap and shifted his position better, having to crane his neck upward slightly to better look his grandfather in the eyes.
"Does your story have monsters in it?" he questioned, a note of hope in his voice.
From Lyall's left, he heard his son give a sardonic little laugh that sounded like a cross between a laugh and a snort.
"Yes, you could say that, son," Remus murmured.
Lyall's head whiplashed sharply upward to regard his son from his place on the sofa.
The displeasure at the underlying note of self-deprecation at his son's jab, as Remus had been referring to himself, his condition as a werewolf just now, did not sit well at all with Lyall.
Remus flinched as a low noise that could almost be described as a growl emitted from deep within his chest.
Lyall shot his son a pointed glower and narrowed his eyes, making a 'harumphing' noise, and made it a point to fold his arms across his chest.
"Excuse me, I'm trying to tell my grandson here a story. Please be quiet!" he snapped, no traces of warmth in his tone towards Remus.
Nymphadora shot her husband a bemused look, clamping a hand over her mouth, looking like she was unsure whether or not to laugh at her husband getting scolded by her father-in-law, and chose to compromise by taking an extra-large swig of hot cocoa and choking on it.
Lyall found it difficult not to roll his eyes a bit. He did not particularly like or appreciate when his son spoke of himself in what Lyall believed to be odious terms.
Remus was not a monster, and he hoped that one day, the man would start to see it for himself, that he was, and always had been, a normal man, first and foremost.
He had a family. A loving wife who adored him more than anything, as Hope had used to behave around him, a wonderful son in their precious Ted, and a stable job teaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts that would almost guarantee a bright future for his son when Teddy came of age at eleven to attend Hogwarts.
Lyall's previously good mood was ready to plummet into a sea of melancholy at the unpleasant thought of thinking that his son would never see himself as worthy.
He was instantly pulled from his dark, torpid whirl of thoughts scattering in his brain by Teddy tugging on the sleeve of his thick black woolen sweater, begging for his attention to be returned to his current task at hand.
"Grandpa!" Teddy squeaked in a disappointed voice. "Will you tell me now, please? I...I want to hear the story of Grandma," he pleaded, the hope in his voice growing.
Lyall felt a surge of affection flood through his veins and warm his heart, thinking that the note of hope that he detected in his grandson's voice, was his wife's way of communicating to him, where she was.
His mood instantly returned to normal, a wide smile spreading over his lined and weathered face as Lyall scooted his wooden rocking chair closer to the roaring fire.
The candlelight above the mantlepiece of the fireplace in the living room of Lyall Lupin's little two-bedroom cottage flickered, briefly showing Remus's father.
Teddy sat in front of his grandfather, utterly enthralled. He couldn't see the laughter in Grandpa's eyes or a smile twitching at his thin, if not slightly cracked lips from the bitter cold. Instead, Grandpa appeared quite skeletal and deranged.
His sockets lay as inky pools, the weak yellow glow only illuminating enough to make him spookier than the blackness alone could ever be. But Teddy knew better.
Teddy knew this was Grandpa's idea of fun, and perhaps it would be.
His stories were legendary, especially the spookier ones, and perhaps how he met Grandma was a little bit scary. Dad had said there were monsters, after all.
Practically rocking back and forth from his spot on the rug in front of the fireplace, Teddy couldn't keep his excitement from bubbling over and the question tumbled unchecked from his lips before the boy could stop himself.
"Are there really monsters in this story, Grandpa?" he squeaked, feeling his light brown eyes go wide and round with shock, brimming with awe and wonder as he gaped.
Lyall chuckled upon hearing the eagerness and excitement that had seeped its way unbidden to the surface of his grandson's voice. He glanced up briefly towards Remus and Nymphadora before turning back to Teddy.
Teddy's parents shot Lyall a look of bemused exasperation. Well, more accurately put, Remus looked exasperated, while Nymphadora was the one to look amused at her son's seemingly random fascination with monsters over the last six months, always clamoring for a story at bedtime that dealt with a hero defeating a monster.
Lyall leaned forward in his chair, clasping his hands together and bringing them to rest idly on his lap, never once breaking eye contact with Teddy's eager brown eyes.
"That's actually how your grandma and I met, Ted, believe it or not. It all started with a monster in the woods," Lyall quietly explained, not bothering to stifle the tiny, affectionate smile that tugged the corners of his thin lips upward.
His smile widened even further as Teddy's light brown eyes grew wide and round, bristling with intrigue. Lyall's brown eyes took on a twinkling sheen as he sat back in his rocking chair and began to rock, thinking best how he wanted to start his story and tell it in a way that would hold his grandson's interest, and the boy wouldn't get bored.
Therein lay a tale of how he met Hope…
But Teddy had asked him to tell it, and Lyall considered himself a man and wizard of his word, especially to his family and friends, and he had said he would tell Teddy the story of how he met Hope, all of it.
The good parts, and the bad…
Lyall heaved a tired sigh and closed his eyes wearily, needing a moment before continuing, and when he did find his voice again, even Lyall was momentarily surprised to hear the affection at reliving a memory that he had long since buried and put away in the darkest recesses of his mind, several years ago.
Lyall opened his eyes and looked into the warm, umber, pleading eyes of his grandson, and just that single span of a look was all it took for Lyall to find his resolve.
Teddy wanted to know his grandmother's history, and so Lyall would tell it to him, even if it took all night.
Feeling the beginnings of a soft, genuine smile snake its way onto his lips, Lyall leaned forward in his chair and launched into the tale of how he met his wife. His Hope.
"It all started with a whisper in the mist…"