25

LYALL'S face seemed heavier, more tired, and much more wrinkled than before as he finished the segment of his story where his son was born and hesitantly lifted his gaze to Remus to gauge his son's reaction, hesitant and reluctant to continue onward with the telling of his story, having finally arrived at the part of the story that he had been dreading getting to, one he wished he could avoid.

But to avoid it was futile. Teddy was well aware of what his father was, his mother had made sure of that from the moment Teddy was old enough to understand. He did not want to upset Teddy and cause his grandson to have nightmares by telling him of his father's mauling the night that Greyback bit him.

It seemed to take Lyall a moment to find his voice, and when he did, his voice was hoarse and so very soft, barely audible, that Remus and Dora and Teddy had to lean forward and strain to hear him.

"Are you sure, Remus? Dora? I don't want to give my grandson nightmares," he sighed, a pained look fleeting across his face. "It's not a pleasant part of the story," he admitted, his voice choking a bit with the weighted severity of his emotion. His voice felt hollow at finally speaking the words he did not want to.

Remus nodded, a look of determination and resolve plastered all over his scarred and lined, tired face.

"I'm sure, Dad. Teddy deserves to know the truth," he answered, though even he could hear how his voice faltered and his tone lacked the conviction to sell the argument he wanted to make.

Unknowingly, his left hand drifted upward, and Remus allowed the pads of his fingertips to ghost along his scar's surfaces. Remus let out a shuddering breath and steeled his nerves, exhaling a long and slow breath as he lifted his head and stuck his chin out, somewhat defiantly, and nodded towards his father.

Lyall stared at Remus for a good long moment, his expression pained, the shadows that flickered from the roaring warm fire in the hearth casting an odd shadow across the older wizard's tired and lined face, before flicking his attention to Nymphadora.

Only when his grandson's mother gave a small, affirmative nod of her head, did Lyall continue, though as he spoke, he closed his eyes tight with regret, his mind churning with fear and dread as he forced himself to recant a memory of the one night in his life that he'd rather not think about.

The night that Fenrir Greyback bit his son, and as unpleasant as it was for him to talk about the event that forever changed his son's life, and his and Hope's beside, he knew he owed it to his grandson. He had promised Teddy he would tell him of his and his grandmother's life story and that included all of it.

The good parts, and the bad...

THE night that Hope and Lyall Lupin's world changed forever, as did their son's, began much like the night of Remus's birth, with inclement weather. The ominous sound of thunder outside crashed loudly, eliciting a startled yelp from Hope who had not anticipated the boom, causing her to almost fumble her copy of The Hobbit that she indulged in reading a chapter or two before she and Lyall retired for the evening. The storm had begun sometime around midday, a few hours after Lyall had returned home from his position at the Ministry of Magic that her husband had started, shortly after Remus's birth.

His expertise on Dark magical creatures made him a well-sought-out man. So much, so, that the Ministry of Magic had called upon Lyall and his world-renowned abilities to help contain the threat of a wizarding war that was on the brink. Hope did not even pretend to understand why Lyall's world, and now hers, too, by extension of their young five-year-old son, was at war, but to say it scared her was something of an understatement. She was terrified and often plagued by night terrors, usually involving her family's deaths at the hands of a cloaked, faceless wizard, powerful, looming, and totally in black.

Lyall continuously assured his wife that she had nothing to worry over, that he would keep his family safe, no matter what. Nevertheless, Lyall accepted a well-paid and highly respected position in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, along with a substantial raise.

Lyall took to his new work in handling all manner of Dark creatures and suspected attacks against both wizardkind and Muggles as the war escalated and Lord Voldemort rose to power, with contentment and ease, his heart and soul bursting with love and affection for his family.

He was grateful that he had a well-paying job within the Ministry and could provide for his family and provide his wife and son with the comforts he thought Hope and Remus deserved, as well as aiding the Ministry and the wizarding world in making the world in which he and his family lived a better place so that his son would be able to grow up in a world hopefully without fear.

Lyall could only hope that his efforts amounted to that.

Tonight, as he was content to hold Hope in his arms as they burrowed underneath the quilts of their bed, he thought he had never been happier, though Lyall had never seen such a slow-moving monster of a storm. Remus hadn't wanted to be put down to bed, terrified of the thunder and lightning.

It had taken two cups of hot cocoa, three bedtime stories, and Tandy's assurance that her Special Young Master could call on Tandy if he woke up at any time during the night afraid of the thunder. Eventually, as Hope was in the middle of reading to him from a book of magical fables, Babbity Rabbity and the Cackling Stump, Remus's favorite story of the set aside from The Warlock's Hairy Heart, Remus drifted off into sleep and it allowed Hope and Lyall time to settle down for the night before retiring to sleep.

Hope tiredly set down her small copy of The Hobbit on the nightstand that was perched next to her side of the bed, sensing she would not get any reading done with the storm's loud rumbles of thunder continuously interrupting her, and she was sure Remus would bolt from his bedroom just down the hallway and barrel into her and Lyall's bedroom, frightened of the thunder.

Turning towards Lyall, who was eyeing her lovingly, Hope could not stop a tiny affectionate smile from snaking its way onto her face as she propped herself up against her pile of pillows to sit up straighter, to better look her husband in the eye.

"What?" she asked lovingly.

Lyall smiled by way of response, burrowing his face into Hope's neck, and inhaling his wife's sweet scent. He thought that he could have laid like this for all eternity as he draped his arm across Hope's middle comfortingly.

"I think our son is the happiest little wizard in the whole of Great Britain," Lyall beamed, lifting his head, and damping his lips against Hope's for a gentle kiss.

They broke apart after a moment, and Hope rested her forehead against Lyall's, basking in the wizard's warmth that he gave off, enjoying Lyall Lupin's heat.

"Why wouldn't he be, with you as his father, Lyall?" Hope laughed warmly as Lyall grinned and kissed her temple.

"And you as his mother, my love," Lyall murmured, leaning in to kiss her again, this time with more fervor as Lyall seemed to have one thing on his mind, spending what remained of the evening in his wife's warm embrace beneath the sheets, though the passionate moment was interrupted the moment the couple heard an almost imperceptible whine outside. Remus.

"Who's there?" Lyall called out, feigning ferocity as he shot Hope a playful, furtive little wink as he sat up straighter, hoping to put their son's mind at ease. The door opened slowly to the scuffling sound of small feet.

Remus, now five and growing fast, too fast for Hope's liking if you were to ask her, with a stricken, terrified look on his face, scampered across the bedroom and jumped on top of his parent's bed, not even waiting to nestle himself into the blankets between his parents.

Hope lifted her gaze as she ruffled Remus's thick tuft of light brown hair that was so like Lyall's and smiled affectionately at her husband. Though their moment of passion had been interrupted, the proud parents cherished every single moment with their young son. Hope furrowed her brows into a frown as she tore her gaze away from her husband and peered into Remus's panic-stricken light brown eyes.

She noticed how pale he had become, and how deeply set the dark circles around her son's eyes had grown. She instantly grew alarmed and feared that her son was growing sick.

Perhaps he had stayed out too long earlier this afternoon in their backyard while playing, before the storm had come, only coming in when Hope called to Remus from the backyard that Tandy had finished making a lunch of egg and cress sandwiches, Remus's absolute favorite, sandwiches that were filled with mayonnaise, chopped and mashed hard-boiled eggs, and garden cress.

Remus always begged Tandy or Hope, whichever one of them was making the lunches that day, to cut his sandwich into precise little triangles and arrange them neatly on a plate alongside his chips.

Next to cress sandwiches, BLTs were Remus's favorite, and only the promise of lunch served with chips and little chocolate squares for dessert, Remus's favorite sweet, had been able to pull the five-year-old boy away from his intense session of playing in their backyard. But now as Hope felt his forehead and then Remus's arms, checking for any signs of fever and moisture, Hope feared that she had let their son stay out in the chilly air too long, and his getting sick was the result of her choice to let him linger.

Remus whimpered and buried his face in the folds of his mother's nightgown.

"Shh, Rem, it's alright," Hope tried to soothe the boy. "I'm here, I'm here. Daddy's here too," Hope murmured lovingly, trying to reassure their frightened young son, resting her hand on top of his head, and patting his hair before moving to Remus's back in the hopes of calming him down.

Remus pulled away and pulled back slightly to study his mother's face, trying to smile bashfully at Mum, not wanting to worry her, but the terror of the thunder that had woken up from a bad nightmare involving a monster still marked his features.

"I had a nightmare," Remus whispered, shamefaced, a pink blush causing his little cheeks to turn pink with color, though Hope was pleased to feel her son calm somewhat at her touch as she squeezed onto his arm. His mother's caring face lulled Remus back into a state of calm serenity, though he did not think he would soon forget the image of a powerful shadowy figure looming over his bed.

It had been what had woken him.

"That's all they are, Remus," Lyall reminded him, taking it upon himself to remind his young son that his dreams would not hurt him. "It's just your imagination playing tricks on you, son," Lyall said as he tried to ease his mind.

Remus's face fell crestfallen at hearing his father's words. Remus grew silent at Lyall's description.

"B-but they were real, Daddy!" Remus whined, looking up at his father with pain and fear in his eyes at the memories he recalled, and a tremor of cold fear went down his spine.

Hope pulled Remus closer, so his back was resting against her chest. She paused to plant a kiss on his forehead and smoothed back strands of his bangs away from his face.

"I know, sweetheart," Hope replied softly. "Your father and I are sorry." She apologized to their five-year-old son gravely, her expression pained and as grim as a graveyard, not only for his parents' inadequate attempt to alleviate Remus's fear but wishing there was more that could be done for him to help him sleep.

Remus smiled sweetly at his parents and nodded.

"Will you tell me a story, Daddy, until the storm passes? Please?" Remus pleaded as Lyall returned to his side of the bed. "Tell me again of the brave wizard who saved the beautiful lady from the Dark Shadow in the woods? Please?" he begged his father again, sticking out his bottom lip into an adorable little pout.

Hope let out a good-natured chuckle. "Don't you ever get tired of that one? You've heard it dozens of times, Remus," she teased lightly, finding it a bit difficult not to roll her eyes, knowing full well that it was Lyall himself who had created their son's fascination with the story of how their little family came to be.

Hope's smile grew wider, very much aware that her husband loved telling the tale again and again and would continue to tell it to Remus for as long as their son would listen, likely even when her husband was old, wrinkled, and white-haired.

"No!" Remus squealed, shaking his head in protest. "Please!" he begged, biting down on his lip.

"Well," Lyall heaved an exaggerated full sigh, squeezing Remus into a tight embrace and resting a kiss on top of his head. He caught his wife's eye and winked. "Let me see, how does it go again?" he asked, teasing his young son as a twinkling sheen appeared in his brown eyes that had not been there before.

"Don't you remember, Daddy? Remember," Remus urged with just a twinge of impatience seeping into his voice. "It starts in the forest!" He frowned at his father, practically rocking a rhythm all his own in impatience.

Lyall chuckled and ran a hand over his rough, closely cropped beard. He was sure that his son could recite the story of how he met Hope word for word but was reveling in his son's hero worship. "Ah, yes, the woods! I think I remember now, son," he chuckled, reaching out and tousling Remus's hair as the young boy burrowed in between both his parents, choosing to nestle against Hope's left arm lovingly.

Encouraged and inspired by his son's eagerness to hear the story, Lyall launched into his story as if he were an official storyteller, a magical bard from the tales of old.

"A long time ago, in a forest not too far from here, as it so happens, where darkness lurked around every corner of those cursed woods, a young wizard won the heart of the most beautiful woman in the world." Lyall lifted his gaze, and his eyes became glassy as he lost himself in the memory, giving Hope a reminiscent smile, hardly daring to believe that five years had passed since that time.

His wife eyed him lovingly with the same fond memories flitting through her mind as he continued.

"She was easily the loveliest creature this wizard had ever laid eyes on."

He paused and stole another longing look at Hope, lust brimming in his eyes, but their time alone would have to wait until Remus had fallen asleep and was put back to bed. He carried on.

"It was in that dark forest that a monster sought to terrorize this beautiful young lady and prevent the very handsome wizard from ever meeting her," he told his young son affectionately.

"That was you and Mummy!" Remus cheered.

Hope's hazel eyes glinted with love and adoration, pleased that their son never tired of hearing the story of how his parents had met.

"Yes, Rem. That was us," she confirmed, her eyes traveling lovingly over Lyall's broad frame happily.

Lyall laughed and drew closer to his beloved family. Remus's attention was fixated solely on his father's face as Lyall wove his tale of fantastical Dark creatures. Watching the amazed look of his son, Lyall found an even greater passion for the images his descriptions painted.

As always, Hope continued to be amazed by her husband's ability to weave a compelling narrative.

It seemed the young wizard grew braver and even more handsome with each of Lyall's retelling of it.

Lyall, feeling inspired by the engrossed attention of his wife and son, became even more animated, describing the events of his tale. The darkness in the Welsh forest became more pronounced, the monster, the vicious, large scary man that had attacked Hope, more ferocious. Remus hung onto his father's every word, awe brimming in his eyes as Lyall continued.

"And in this very bed, the brave wizard helped the love of his life to deliver their firstborn child, a son," he said, regarding Hope proudly with the memory of it.

"That was me!" Remus interrupted gleefully.

"Yes," Lyall chuckled, nodding. "That was you, Remus," he smiled, cradling the boy's chin proudly.

The boy's eyes were wide and brimming with awe and wonder as he described the vicious wolf-man who had threatened his family and their immediate happiness, though Remus seemed to visibly relax when Lyall reassured his son that the monster would never come for him or for his mother, ever again. Not as long as he drew in a breath and could still hold onto his wand.

Not long after he finished his tale of how he met Hope, Remus fell fast asleep. After a few moments of quiet contemplation, Hope lifted Remus in her arms, grunting with the effort as the five-year-old was getting heavier these days as he grew taller, and rose from her bed, walking the boy back to his own bedroom, thankful the thunder had calmed at least somewhat, though the storm still raged on.

As Hope quietly entered Remus's bedroom, she gingerly eased the door shut behind her and swiftly crossed the floor barefoot to her son's bed. She laid Remus snugly within the blankets, thanking God that the storm's thunder had at least calmed down, and bent down to plant a gentle kiss to his forehead.

Hope smiled affectionately, lingering in the doorway, a hand on the doorframe to steady herself, content to watch Remus sleep for a little while longer.

"Good night, Remus. Sleep well, have sweet dreams," she whispered, an affectionate smile snaking its way onto her features as she turned on her heels to go, gingerly closing the door shut behind her.

Hope padded barefoot down the hall back to her and Lyall's bedroom, grateful Remus was already asleep, but she still could not quite shake the feeling burgeoning in her heart that something was amiss.

She lingered in the hallway for a moment, almost tempted to tiptoe back to Remus's room to check on him, having gotten the feeling like she and Remus were being watched, before she shook her head to herself. She was sure that her imagination was just running wild. There was nothing there. It was just a feeling, albeit an uneasy one, and one that she was too embarrassed to share with Lyall.

But if only she could have known how right she was.

If Hope would have looked out Remus's corner window, she would have seen a familiar hulking, towering silhouette hovering outside the boy's window, waiting for Hope to leave the room and for the precise moment to attack, after Hope and Lyall had gone to bed.

HOPE heard it first, much later that night, waking up to a loud thud and a muffled whine. She glanced over at the clock on the nightstand on her side of the bed with tired, squinted eyes and groaned. She wouldn't sleep at all tonight at this rate if Remus had woken from another nightmare.

She usually did her best to nap during the day but caring for Remus while the boy was still of an age to be home full time took a lot out of her, even with Tandy's help.

Frowning, she sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes. Hope heard another loud bang from somewhere down the hall and a deeper frown settled over her face, as well as a pang of unease.

She slid off her bed and rose to her feet, tiredly rubbing the crusted sleep from her eyes with the heel of her hand, a groggy moan escaping her throat as the noise came again.

"Lyall—" she started to say, though before she could say anything else at all, an ear-piercing panic and pain-filled scream flooded their simple house. Lyall bolted up frantically in bed and instantly leaped to his feet, while Hope's blood ran cold and turned to ice in her veins. The scream was coming from Remus's room, and the sound was her son's scream. She would know her son's voice anywhere.

"Lyall!" Hope screamed frantically, terror pricking her heartstrings as tears came to her eyes.

Thinking quickly, she darted forward and plucked a long floor-length cream fleece nightrobe off the back of a chair and wound it tightly around herself, bolting for their bedroom door and wrenching it open, with Lyall joining Hope at her heels in Hope's frenzied quest to reach their son, his wand drawn.

The sound of his son's scream echoed in Lyall's ears and very nearly drove him mad with worry. The heart-wrenching scream grew even louder as they reached Remus's bedroom.

Tandy was already there, at her master's side as Lyall reached out a hand and violently twisted the brass doorknob and nearly ripped the door off its iron hinges in a show of untapped strength, desperate to reach his son and determine the cause of what was hurting his son.

At her master's side, Tandy provided another set of eyes to aid in the search.

Hope's blood turned sour in her veins at the unmistakable sight of the most horrific sight she had ever seen began to itch on her reeling mind. Screams turned to pained choking sobs that came from her son, sharp white fangs closed around Remus's neck, teeth markings grazed across his face.

The five-year-old's body lay maimed and helpless as a vicious, four-legged beast assaulting their son tore off a huge chunk of flesh. More blood splattered and stained the hardwood floor of Remus's bedroom. A ringing screened on her ears. Hope wasn't even aware she was screaming, or how her heart was almost bursting against her ribcage, but oh, God, she was feeling it.

A drop of fear and rage like she had never felt now coursing through her veins for this vicious monster who had attacked her son and had possibly killed him. Her breaths were half-mad as tears poured down her face, falling out of control.

A strange itch ruptured on her jaws and had begun wringing in her mouth. Hope screamed. She could hear their house-elf screaming and tugging on the overly long sleeve of Hope's fleece robe, but Hope was frantic to reach her son, lying seemingly lifeless on the floor just paces away from her and Lyall.

Lyall brandished his wand, gnashing his teeth in anger as he recognized the unmistakable silhouette of a werewolf as the monstrous creature lifted its long snout and turned to look in the direction of Hope, its ears twitching and perked up at the sound of her screams.

He froze momentarily as a pair of yellow eyes—Greyback's eyes—glinted at him in the darkness, burning brighter and hotter than any dragon fire could.

He looked back down at the lifeless form of his son and realized what the disgusting wolf had done. He had turned Remus, his own beloved son, like him.

A burning rage at what Greyback had done surged through his veins, white-hot, like electricity.

"NO!" he shouted, raising his wand so the tip of the weapon was pointed squarely at the werewolf's chest. He spent his fury well vented at this monster who had bitten his son in a barrage of jinxes, one right after another, hoping to sever flesh to bone the way a deranged dog might tear through a lamb.

Amidst the havoc of hearing his wife screaming, his son laying bleeding on the floor in front of him, Lyall warred his way towards the creature, slashing his wand to the left and right ungracefully. His skin was flushed with both terror and rage as one of his jinxes caused Remus's bedroom window to explode.

The loud noise startled the werewolf badly, and it was all Lyall could do to watch as Fenrir Greyback in his Turned form as a huge, towering werewolf scrambled out the now-gaping hole where Remus's bedroom window used to be, and disappeared away from the Lupin's property, though not before tilting its large head up and giving a victorious, blood-curdling howl to the Mother Moon in glory.

Within moments, Lyall turned around on his heels to Hope, just in time to see Hope scrambling on her knees as Tandy finally relinquished her weak hold on the hem of Hope's long fleece nightrobe, and Hope was by her son's side in an instant, cradling Remus's bloodied and mauled form in her arms.

Lyall dropped to his knees beside Hope and instinctively, wound his left arm around Hope's shaking shoulders as her body wracked with vicious sobs that caught in her throat.

She did not even notice Lyall's affectionate gesture. She rocked their son, nestling him against her neck, not even caring that her cream-colored robe, a gift from Tina this year for Hope's thirty-third birthday, was quickly becoming stained with his blood, though Lyall knew he could get the stain out later with the use of his magic, the condition of Hope's night robe was the least of their worries.

Tears fell down Hope's cheeks and trailed onto her son's soft head. "Remus," she wailed, pulling back slightly, and adjusting her son's limp and unresponsive form to study the worst of her son's injuries.

Lyall yelled Hope's name urgently. Once, twice, three times and his wife did not answer his calls, his wife's soul already lost in thinking their son to be dead.

It was at that moment that Remus inhaled sharply, the five-year-old's unconscious body taking over and trying to find the breath that was now failing his body. Their son was still alive, and still fighting for life.

Hope blearily lifted her head and felt her son's chest rising faintly through his pajamas, and hearing the sharp, blood-filled gurgle in his throat, Hope came back to herself somewhat and sniffled.

It wasn't over yet. Their son was a brave little wizard in the making and was clinging to every ounce of life that he could. Gingerly, Hope rested Remus on the floor and reached out a trembling hand to caress one of the wounds that now littered her precious son's sweet face. It was truly grotesque looking, these three vicious slash-markings. She feared that it would scar permanently if they could not get Remus the medical help that her son desperately needed. Hope attempted to help by trying to turn him.

"No! Don't touch him, sweetheart! He could be dangerous; those are werewolf bites! They're cursed wounds, darling," Lyall ordered, almost sounding angry with his wife for not thinking this through, though he recognized quickly it was his own hot shame and guilt at insulting Greyback, manifesting as anger.

He had seen enough cursed wounds, Dark in nature, that his instincts began to take over in caring for his injured son. Remus might very well bleed to death if they did not get him medical help and fast.

Hope retracted her hands, shirking away from her young son as though Lyall's words had burned her.

The sound of Tandy's voice reached the distraught and frantic parents' eardrums. "Master Lupin, sir, you's and Mistress Hope needs to get Young Master Remus to St. Mungo's now, sir!" Tandy squeaked in a warbling voice. Lyall did not look up, bending and gathering Remus in his arms as he stood.

He shifted his son's weight in his arms to distribute the boy's weight and waved his wand once sharply so that their son's blood that stained the front of Hope's cream-colored floor-length fleece robe vanished and the garment looked brand-new again. Lyall, stricken with numbness and shock over what he had indirectly had a part in, that his own son, because of him, and his inability to control his temper, had cursed his son to live life as a fully-fledged werewolf, and that was assuming their son survived.

He barely felt Hope's arm curling around his bicep to allow them to Disapparate or heard Hope's faint voice ringing in his eardrums as she politely but worriedly asked Tandy to stay behind and clean up Remus's room while they took their son to the hospital, with Tandy hastily saying that she would.

Lyall closed his eyes, furiously blinking back the swamp of tears that were causing his throat to constrict as he fought against the lump forming ins his throat as he formed the welcome sight of St. Mungo's in his mind and he Disapparated with Hope to the lobby.

Activities, as usual, were bustling, even given the lateness of the hour.

Forsaking checking in with the blonde-haired irate Welcome Witch clad in pink robes at the front desk, Lyall, still carrying Remus, with Hope trailing closely behind him, still wearing her nightrobe and her arms wound around her middle, stalked his way down the hallway and to the elevator.

It felt as though Lyall's legs were moving of their own accord, as he swiftly led Hope into the 'Dangerous' Dai Llewellyn Ward for Serious Bites. The ward itself was small and dingy, the walls were dark oak-paneled with only one window that was located opposite the door.

It was mainly illuminated by shining crystal bubbles that clustered together in a heap in the middle of the ceiling. A portrait of Urquhart Rackharrow, the inventor of the Entrail-Expelling Curse, if you got close enough to read the plaque underneath the golden-framed portrait, was hung on one wall.

But Lyall hardly noticed any of it. Lyall's eyes searched the tiny ward frantically until he spotted the capable genius on shift tonight that he had been hoping for.

"Smithwick!" he bellowed, urgency and panic twinged throughout his voice as he called for the same Healer who had told Hope and Lyall that she was pregnant with Remus five years ago.

Healer Smithwick was in the middle of dabbing a harsh, foul-smelling ointment with his finger onto a little girl who did not look older than seven and had suffered from a nasty bite from a garden gnome of all creatures. He looked up, startled to hear Lyall Lupin's voice, expecting Mr. Lupin himself to be wounded.

The expression on his lovely wife, Hope's face, was direr than if Lyall's wife were the one who was hurt. The young Muggle woman's face had gone pale, and despite wearing a warm and comfortable looking thick fleece robe that went to the floor, she was shivering with gritted teeth, clutching her middle as though trying to stay warm.

Healer Smithwick frowned, about to open his mouth to ask what was wrong as he noticed Lyall's wife was barefoot, but then his gaze drifted downward, and he caught sight of the wounded, mauled, and bloodied form of young Remus Lupin. The Healer felt his blood run cold and a chill waft down his spine as he recognized the signs of a werewolf attack. This boy was not yet six.

Hauntingly, Smithwick turned on his heels and ordered his young apprentice Healer newly graduated from Hogwarts to finish the patient that he had been working on and rushed to Hope and Lyall.

"That's your son, Lyall! Merlin's Beard, man, what in God's name happened?" the Healer cried, hardly stopping his momentum as he motioned with a wave of his arm for them to follow him into a room.

"He was bitten by a werewolf, Healer Smithwick," Lyall stammered, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth, feeling hollow at finally speaking the words. "I—I don't know what to do, I—I was able to save his life, but…" he admitted, pained, as he lifted his gaze to his, his voice trailing off, unable to continue.

Healer Smithwick nodded gravely and turned towards his young new patient as Lyall set him gently down onto one of the waiting white hospital beds.

The Healer could see the worry and fear on Remus Lupin's father's face as he began to prod the slash markings that began at the boy's browbone and snaked their way diagonally across the length of his face, ending at his lips and tugging it down into a grimace.

Quickly, he summoned several nearby Healers to begin to do whatever they could to save the boy's life.

Lyall stiffened and gave Healer Smithwick a threatening look as he thought he saw his son's body give a spasmodic twitch. The apprentice who had finished tending to Healer Smithwick's previous patient scurried over, carrying a dark bottle of what looked like a Sleeping Draught and a dark rag.

He poured some clear liquid onto the cloth and held it for a few seconds under Remus's nose and mouth. Their son relaxed and then seemed to be merely sleeping.

Lyall's face, strained with worry, relaxed a bit at the notion that Remus would be asleep and not feel whatever it was that the Healers were going to do to him. He appeared almost relieved for a moment.

Then, he looked at Healer Smithwick and his team desperately.

"Save my son, Mr. Smithwick. Please," he begged, his voice trembling and hoarse with emotion.

The Healer could not even speak. All he could do was nod his head at the distressed parents clinging to one another for support, comfort, and strength, and pray that he would pull the young lad through this.

There was no time to lose.

Healer Smithwick turned from him, grabbed his wand that he had set upon a small metal side tray alongside a basin of medical supplies, and began to tend to Remus's wounds. Lyall bravely steeled himself, alongside Hope, planning to remain faithfully by his son's side through the process.

But within moments, any notions he and Hope had of staying in the room alongside Remus was shattered, as the distraught couple were both nudged out of the way by various Healers and other apprentices that were hurrying to comply with Smithwick's demands.

Suddenly, there was hardly any room for Lyall and Hope to stand flush against the wall. Lyall could barely see Remus through the crowd now gathered around his son's hospital bed.

"Please, Mr. and Mrs. Lupin," one of the senior apprentices requested. "Both of you will need to wait outside until we are finished," he said, with the young wizard shooting the couple a pained apologetic look.

Lyall angrily bristled and scowled a threatening warning at the much-younger wizard, barely eighteen.

But Hope, eager to comply with the Healer's demands if it meant their son's life might be saved, grabbed onto her husband's arm without a word and began to pull Lyall from the room, though Lyall fought Hope's efforts the whole way.

"We need to stay with him, Hope!" he shouted, turning on his wife in his ire.

Understanding her husband's hostility and hurt, Hope swallowed down hard and blinked back a fresh onset of tears as she did her best to calm Lyall down.

"We need to let them work, sweetheart," she said.

"I want Remus to know we're here, Hope, honey," Lyall protested in a pleading, cracking voice, his expression pained.

"Remus knows, sweetheart," Hope whispered as she chewed on her lip, trying to comfort Lyall as they stood lingering outside Remus's hospital room in the ward.

With no way of watching over Remus, and the fact that he had not killed Fenrir Greyback when he had the chance, that he'd had a hand in his son's mauling, and no one upon which he could unleash his anger as his rage boiled over, Lyall turned away from Hope and let loose his fury on the hospital wall.

Clenching his white-boned, shaking hand into a fist and letting out a long and furious blood yell, he slammed his knuckles repeatedly against the unmoving cold plaster. His skin shredded against the rough wall. However, Lyall felt no pain, though the pain of his broken knuckles was not enough to swap with the anguish of his broken heart, his mind so focused on their son and what he had done.

His injury was nothing compared to what Remus was going through, what he would go through. To the best of his knowledge, there was no cure for werewolf bites.

Hope stood back and gave her husband this release. When there was no more air left in Lyall's lungs to scream and no effort in his muscles, Lyall collapsed against the wall, exhausted, terrified.

Slowly, Hope moved forward and slid down the wall and sat beside Lyall, holding his left hand in her right and clinging to the man's hand like a lifeline.

"He—he'll be alright, won't he, Lyall?" she asked in a trembling voice as she lifted her tear-filled eyes to him. She swallowed down hard when Lyall said nothing, the man's silence deafening, roaring in her ears. Hope tried to think what their lives meant now that Remus, sweet, lovely Remus, would be a full werewolf.

They sat in silence for hours as the world carried on around them, oblivious to the Lupin family's distress. Lyall ran his hand over his drawn, worried face as slick tears slid from the edges of his eyes.

He raised his red, tear-filled eyes to the ceiling of the ward, remembering every wonderful moment of his life with Hope and their young son that he had enjoyed. He had stopped imagining life without Hope by his side years ago when she had enthusiastically accepted his proposal of marriage.

But now that their own beloved son was a fully-fledged wolf, would turn into a monster three times a month, he knew that Hope would be well within her rights to file for divorce, to leave him and Remus. He knew he'd deserve no less than that, for what he had done to their son by angering Greyback.

As the unpleasant thought left his mind, Healer Smithwick walked slowly through the large doorway, and out into the corridor to find Remus's parents. The older wizard was slow and deliberate in his movements, and his tired and lined face showed the exhaustion the wizard would not let his body feel for hours on end, not until later, when his shift ended.

Lyall and Hope rose upon seeing him, with Hope clinging steadfast and tightly to Lyall's arm, both unsteady on their feet, their equilibrium shaky. Lyall swallowed, almost afraid to read Healer Smithwick's expression, and turned to Hope to exchange a brief, worried look with his wife.

She stared right back and then flicked her gaze back to the Healer.

"H-how is he, Mr. Smithwick?" Lyall asked in a quiet, somber voice, fear shadowing all his hopes.

A flicker of something flitted through the Healer's kindly green eyes behind his spectacles as he kept his hands folded in front of his middle, his eyes heavy. Taking a deep breath, he delivered the news.

"Your son will live, Mr. and Mrs. Lupin, I have made sure of that, but there is no cure for werewolf bites. I'm sorry," he apologized, his face pained. "I've given him a Calming Draught and a Sleeping Draught to dull the pain. He'll be asleep for the next few hours. His injuries were very serious," he warned. "The bite marks at his face and neck will scar, there is no way around that, as werewolf bites are cursed markings."

"May we see him?" Hope piped up softly, her worry returning as she squeezed onto Lyall's hand even tighter. She breathed out a relieved breath as the Healer nodded, offering the couple a sad, sympathetic smile as he turned, motioning for them to follow him.

"Yes, of course. Please follow me." He nodded. The Healer led Hope and Lyall through the hospital room.

Lyall entered first. Remus lay unconscious and motionless on the small hospital cot covered in a thick myriad of heated blankets for warmth and comfort, his skin faded and pale from loss of blood. The boy's breathing was weak and shallow.

Remus looked more dead than alive. When Lyall first saw his son, his legs buckled and he fell to the ground at his son's bedside, with Hope perching herself on the edge of the mattress.

Lacking the strength or wish to stand, Lyall knelt by his son's motionless form. He took Remus's bandaged hand and held it to his lips, kissing his son's knuckles.

Hope hovered over Remus, stroking his hair back and bent her face to his, sobbing her son's name. Hope lingered over her son, her tears falling on Remus's face. She raised her eyes to his scarred, bloodied face, her shaking fingers tracing the familiar line of his cheeks. Her mind was filled with memories of the moments they had shared as a family and visions of the life that she still hoped to enjoy with Remus, his new status as a fully-fledged werewolf notwithstanding.

Healer Smithwick stood at the foot of the low hospital bed and gave Hope and Lyall the time that they needed.

Finally, Lyall rose to his feet with a groan and perched himself on the edge of the cot alongside Hope, his hand resting, trembling, on top of Hope's thigh.

He spoke, his voice a broken, pleading rasp.

"When he will wake up, Mr. Smithwick?" he said dryly.

Healer Smithwick cleared his throat.

"A few hours, perhaps," he stammered. "Your son has been through a traumatic and great ordeal. He must heal, Mr. Lupin. That will take time. And…" he trailed off as he paused.

"And?" Lyall questioned, turning slightly in the middle-aged Healer's direction, yet never taking his eyes off the sleeping form of his son. He feared the reason that Healer Smithwick hadn't finished speaking.

Healer Smithwick cleared his throat and continued.

"Ah, well, there's always a chance his wounds could become infected," he stammered, flinching as the unpleasant thought left his mouth. Merlin, but he sounded so cold and impersonal. He looked at Hope, pleading with the man's wife to offer her input now.

"Our son is strong, Remus, just like you," Hope whispered, trying to encourage her husband and be strong for them both. She moved her free hand not wound around Remus's other hand that Lyall was not currently clinging to up to squeeze Lyall's shoulder. "He's not going to give up, sweetheart. And neither will we, both of us will be here for Remus, no matter what, Lyall. He's still our son, even with his… his problem," she stammered nervously, unable to say it, but continued, knowing that Lyall needed to hear the words.

Hope was eager to make her husband understand that she was not going anywhere. She'd seen the look on his face earlier. Lyall would soon come to understand that nothing, not even this, would ever tear her away from her family, her life now. She blew out a deep breath and continued.

"And as his parents, we'll be there for everything, darling," Hope added, determination seeping through her tone as she lifted her chin out defiantly.

Lyall grimaced and nodded, though he felt a surge of relief flood through his veins as he noticed Hope glance down at their matching wedding rings with pride, that she had no intention of leaving him. It was as if his wife had sensed his innermost thoughts earlier.

"He won't give up, Lyall, and neither we will," Hope whispered, scooting closer, so her shoulder was pressed against Lyall's as she squeezed his hand tightly. Lyall nodded, grateful for his wife's words, and returned his attention to Remus as the Healer left them alone to tend to his rounds throughout the night.

THE fight was not over. Not for Remus. It never could be, as time passed the five-year-old wizard by, the memories of those nine days spent in St. Mungo's Institute of fighting for his life and suffering through the first two nights of his transformations as a fully-fledged werewolf, still able to remember the sound of his mother's frantic screaming and crying, Dad's yells. They would never truly be gone.

The night he was bitten might drift back into Remus's murky subconsciousness, but that night would always be there, a visible, permanent reminder in the form of the markings that mauled his once-handsome face, waiting to remind the child of the horrors he'd barely survived. Fenrir Greyback might have fled and gone from Remus's life, but Greyback would never leave Remus. Lyall and Hope sat silently together at their son's bedside, each holding one of Remus's bandaged hands.

Neither of them gave up hope that a cure could be found for Remus's lycanthropy, even when their desperation turned blind and desperate. Resigning themselves to the fact that their son was now too dangerous to attend school when he would turn eleven in six more years, Lyall was already offering to teach him magic at home, as soon as Remus was old enough. Time passed by slowly in Remus's hospital room, not that Lyall or Hope particularly cared about that. Just being able to hold their five-year-old son's warm hands was a blessing, and for most of the time, the boy's parents sat in quiet ecstasy.

Lyall and Hope were happy that Healer Smithwick had done what he could for Remus, and that he would live. As Hope would tell him and did say, they counted their blessings and tried to make the best of the situation, promising to give their son as many opportunities as they could, with Lyall's outlook on werewolves changing permanently now that his son was afflicted with the blood curse.

It was Tandy who noticed Remus stirring on the tenth day of his stay in St. Mungo's, the same day that Healer Smithwick had come in earlier that morning and told the Lupin's their son would be discharged.

Lyall had reluctantly taken a break from his son's bedside and Disapparated back home to rest and change his clothes, and Hope was just outside the door, being advised by Healer Smithwick on various ointments and treatments that could be used to treat Remus's various bite-marks and scratches post transformations.

The Lupin family's house-elf was alone in the room when Tandy's ears perked up at a small, muffled noise, and she turned her head to the sight of her Young Master Remus beginning to wriggle beneath the sheets, coughing and spluttering heavily.

Remus's sleep that dull and cloudy Friday morning had been deep, but not peaceful. Images of the hulking monster's face had loomed before him, more like fragmented thoughts than actual dreams.

Some images were memorable and benign—he had really enjoyed playing Gobstones with Mum and Tandy in their backyard, but most had been on the monster, the bad wolf, and had passed Remus by too quickly for the boy to understand what it all meant, leaving a dark, unsettling presence in their wake as the child woke up.

"Young Master? Master Remus?" Tandy squeaked, scrambling up onto the hospital bed, leaning over Master Lupin's son as Remus's heavily lidded eyes flickered open and shut again, hardly perceptive at all.

Remus was beginning to wake up now, but his body had been drugged with plenty of Sleeping and Calming Draughts to sleep through the worst of the pain when the Healers would come to tend his wounds. He lay against the bed for a while in a semi-conscious haze, teetering on the brink between the darkness of his dreams and the reality of the world.

The first thing that spun into focus was Tandy's worried face, the edge of her drooping ear, her left, just barely tickling his cheek as she loomed in front of him. He had seen Tandy just a few days ago, last night, when Mummy had brought him a packed dinner when he complained the food from the St. Mungo's cafeteria wasn't good. She'd brought his favorite, egg and cress sandwiches and chips, even cups of ketchup and custard to dunk his chips into, which he was grateful.

He was crying now; he could feel it. In that first moment after waking up, he felt afraid as he had been to wake up and find the monster standing over his bed, just before the monster had sunk its teeth into his neck.

"Tandy…" he said, and he heard a small, hoarse rasp that barely resembled his voice that escaped from the back of his throat. "I—is that you?" he asked, weak.

Tandy nodded and smiled, her eyes gleaming with fresh tears.

"Does Young Master want a drink, sir?" she asked, not feeling sufficient to say anything better at an emotionally loaded time such as this one as she waited.

Tandy approached Remus carefully with the glass. Using what little strength he had, he propped himself up with great effort against the mountain of pillows he remembered Dad had put behind him for support. Not much, just enough so he wasn't lying down so flat, and let his parents' house-elf put the glass gently against his cracked and bleeding lips. The water was cold and soothed his flaming throat, which was raw and hoarse from three nonstop nights of screaming as he'd transformed, not understanding what was happening at first, though by now, he understood what he was.

A monster.

When Remus had finished his drink, he beckoned his family's house-elf closer with a weak finger wag.

"Tandy," the five-year-old whispered hoarsely. "Could you do something for me?" he asked faintly.

A nod.

"Pinch me," Remus asked quietly, still hoping that all of this was somehow a very bad nightmare, one he had yet to wake up from. Tandy hesitated for a moment, perhaps thrown a little by her young master's request. But then, Remus felt the elf's warm fingers on his bony arm, and a sharp, short needle of pain as the house-elf managed to squeeze a portion of flesh.

He shuddered for a moment, but the stinging sensation allowed him to know that this was real.

"Where's Mummy and Daddy?" he croaked, to which Tandy immediately snapped to attention and scrambled off the bed, sensing her young master was on the brink of tears and wanting his parents' comfort.

"Master Lyall went home to change, but Mistress Hope is just outside, sir! Tandy will fetch him, sir!" she squeaked, and then disappeared out of the door, fast.

The door opened and Mummy walked in. She approached her son's beside slowly, reverently.

"Hello, sweetheart," she murmured, looking at her son with no small amount of love and affection in her eyes. "Did you sleep well, Rem?" Hope asked kindly.

Remus nodded, electing not to strain his voice. He studied his mother carefully as she sat down next to him, plunking her purse by her feet, and setting aside the small box of chocolates she'd brought on the table. His mummy, though still quite pretty and young, was beginning to look tired, and thin, but now that he was awake, Mummy didn't look as lost or dismayed. Her smile seemed real enough, happy to see him.

"How's your throat, sweetie?" Hope asked quietly.

"It's okay, I guess," Remus croaked faintly. It wasn't, not really, but he didn't want his parents fussing over him just yet. Not at this precise moment, at least. In truth, he was beginning to feel a little embarrassed about all the trouble he'd inadvertently caused and wished that he could take all of it back.

Hope reached for her son's hand and gave it a squeeze. "It's going to be alright, sweetheart, I—I promise, we're taking you home today, Rem, we promise. Mummy will make your favorite dinner tonight to celebrate, with a big old chocolate cake for dessert, Remus, how's that, sweetheart?" Hope continued, but his mother's hazel eyes had assumed a glossy, faraway look. Remus wasn't sure whether Mummy was really talking to him right now or trying to reassure herself that things would be alright.

He did not know what to say to Mummy that might make her feel better, so Remus chose to stay silent.

Tandy returned a few moments later, clutching something wrapped in a brown paper bag. She held it with all the awkward care and loving attention of a new mother holding onto her newborn, precious babe.

"Tandy brought this for you from home, Young Master Remus," she squeaked, proudly, and pulled out his favorite toy, a stuffed animal of a Bowtruckle his daddy's friend, Newt Scamander had got him when he was just a baby. Remus smiled at the sight of something else besides his mother that was comforting and familiar. Tandy came up to Remus as carefully as his mother had.

(Remus secretly hoped that not everyone who would come to visit him before they left this place would do that. They were approaching him like he was a wounded animal, a monster, ready to turn and bite at any moment. He was, yes, that much was true, but only when the full moon was in the sky, Daddy had told him as much.)

Tandy hopped up onto the bed and placed his stuffed Bowtruckle that he had named Maple between the sheets next to Remus.

With great effort, he wound his hands around the toy and squeezed, hard, burying his face into its stuffed, oversized leafy green head.

"Thank you," he said weakly.

It wasn't long after that, that Daddy came in, looking refreshed and better than he had this morning. There were a lot of things that Remus wanted to say to his parents, but he was tired, and his throat protested at the idea of talking too much.

So, Remus just lay there, glad to be alive in the company of his parents, who, even though he was now a monster, a bad wolf, that they still loved him very much and would never stop, both of his parents told him so.

At some point, his parents' friends, Mr., and Mrs. Scamander, came in to see him and joined his parents. Remus was pleased to see them both, he really was, but he was still physically and mentally exhausted.

Eventually, his eyes became heavy, and he returned once more to the world of sleep, this time, without his nightmares. As long as he had his parents, his family, he would not be alone.

And that was good enough for him.