Hello! I'm back! Sorry it took me so long. Tis the holiday season and retail is...well, retail.

Thank you so so so much to everyone for your kind words, follows, favorites, and of course, for just plain reading this story! I never imagined it would turn out like this. Thank you!

On to the story!

Chapter Three
Interview with a Werewolf

Werewolves are real.

Werewolves are real.

Werewolves are real.

Isabeau had written those lines over and over again in her notebook, alongside several questions she'd thought up and a crude drawing of a dog, which looked more like a duck if she turned her head right. The Major was sitting with his head in her lap, enjoying her absent-minded scratches.

How was one supposed to react to learning such a thing? Well, besides laughing and basically inviting themselves over for afternoon tea. Should she be questioning her sanity? Shouldn't it be more likely he's humoring her for a prank? Should she just avoid him now? After all, Remus said it was dangerous.

No, that wouldn't do at all. Whatever was happening was completely insane, there was no question of it, but she hadn't been raised to look at the world with an open mind and welcoming heart to back out of that now. Eight years ago, people were put on the moon. Humanity had a penchant for the impossible. What was one more thing on top of the many?

Isabeau sighed, looking down at The Major. "I'm in over my head, aren't I?"

The wolfhound snorted.

"You ought to take up counseling. You're a very good listener."

He barked, and Isabeau gave him a good kiss on the head before returning to her notebook.

Do werewolves have animal senses in human form?

This was getting out of hand. Clearly it was Remus who needed to be worried and not the other way around.

"Now, I know that I'm just your mother," a voice called from her doorway, causing Isabeau to jump. The Major huffed, backing up as she pushed away from the desk. "But I'd feel a sight more loved if my daughter came to greet me instead of making me search for her."

"Sorry, mum!" Isabeau apologized, jogging over and wrapping the older woman in a hug.

Betty Dunn was a short woman, nearly a head shorter than Isabeau, with a kind smile and bright green eyes. Her brown hair was fading to gray, but there was still a youthfulness to her, much like her father. The country air, they said.

"She'd be in an early grave if she'd stayed in London," her father liked to joke. When she was sixteen, her family had sent her to Bibury to escape the Blitz. Some time after, Betty met Michael, and they hadn't gone back since.

"I was distracted."

"Well, I can see that," her mother replied, glancing over. Fortunately, her eyes weren't what they used to be and the most she would be able to make out was the drawing. "Is that a duck?"

"Yes," Isabeau said quickly, shutting the notebook and returning to her mother's side. "How's grandma?"

The two Dunn ladies walked side-by-side through the cottage just as her father returned inside with some luggage.

"She's getting on well enough. Missed you," her mother replied as one of her suitcases split open and spilled her clothes across the floor. "Not so much your father."

"I was taught to hate the devil. Don't blame me for being a proper Christian man," Michael said, ducking as her mother threw one of her dresses at him.

Half-heartedly, Betty went to smack him, only for her wrist to be caught by her father, allowing him to pull her in for a kiss.

They really were still in love after all this time. It always made Isabeau smile. They'd been through so much, and deserved the world.

Dinner had always been a lively affair in the Dunn household. More often than not, neighbors or relatives graced them with their presence and a fond evening of delightful stories was to be had.

Nicky had always been the star. There wasn't a man within a hundred leagues who could tell a story with as much fervor and skill. His vocabulary was second to none and his imitation skills borderline terrifying.

When he died four years prior, it took a long time for them to even sat at the table again.

Since her mother had just returned that day, it was only the three of them that evening, leaving her to regale them about everything in London. Most of the conversation was her, with the occasional input from her father, mostly mocking city dwellers and taking small potshots at her grandmother. He'd gotten a lump of potatoes on his shirt for that, and he stubbornly refused to remove it.

"I don't do the laundry 'round here," he triumphantly said. "Use the gravy next time, why don't you?"

Isabeau, for her part, had been mostly silent, save for one-word answers. Even the grand tale of her wolf hunt she'd left to her father. She was distracted, mind on Remus once again, nearly spelling out questions she had into the plate with her fork.

Have you always been a werewolf?

Do you remember what happened that morning?

Is that why you have so many scars?

She supposed that last one was a bit too personal. Maybe she did know his biggest secret, but that hadn't exactly granted her permission to know his entire life story. But she wanted to. Now, more than anything, she wanted to know about Remus Lupin.

"Bo," her mother said firmly.

Looking up, Isabeau found her mother staring at her, and her father nowhere in sight.

"Where's dad?"

"Gone to the neighbors to discuss the market. He said as much, not that you were listening."

"Oh," was her lame reply. She'd never been so absent-minded before.

"So, who is he?"

She blinked. "What?"

"Nothing makes a girl go quiet quite like a boy."

Isabeau tossed her fork onto the plate. "Oh, that's rubbish."

Not incorrect rubbish, but she wasn't about to admit that.

"No?" her mother replied, humming in amusement. "The last time something caught your attention so fully, you weren't able to keep your mouth shut. It was about the solar system and I can still name more floating rocks than I care to."

She could still vividly recall clinging to the small television at their neighbor's house when the Americans landed on the moon. That had been what started her excursions to the library.

The memory made her smile.

"Well then?"

Isabeau sighed. "Fine, I met a boy."

"I knew it!" her mother cackled. She was a horrible gossip and spent every Saturday morning with the other town gossips in the local café. Isabeau and her father usually made plans to be nowhere near the house when she returned, unless they wanted an earful about who was dating who or who was sneaking carrots out of gardens late at night.

Sometimes, she still managed to find them. One of those times, her dad legged it and they didn't see him for two hours after he vanished into the woods.

"But it's not like that!" Isabeau clarified, quickly on the defensive. The last thing she needed was her dad getting wind of the conversation and giving her the talk. "We just met under unusual circumstances is all."

"Oh? How so?" her mother asked, leaning forward on one hand.

Shit.

She'd been so focused in getting rid of the romantic angle of the story, that she'd forgotten the elephant in the room.

He was a werewolf.

Honestly, she'd rather admit that than give her parents the idea that she was dating someone, but she was a woman of her word. She promised not to tell anyone and she meant it. Never mind that she was utterly useless when it came to lying; she would do her best.

"I met him…at the…library," Isabeau said slowly, dragging the words out against their will. It wasn't technically a lie, but the tone of her voice made her grimace.

"Ah, that's it," her mother said, looking at her like she'd figured everything out.

"What? What is it? What have I done?"

"Why you're still thinking of him, silly," she replied matter-of-factly, like it was obvious. "Blockheads like Tommy would never set foot in a library. You've found yourself someone you can finally relate to."

Isabeau paused, really thinking on what her mother said. She hadn't even considered the fact that Remus was in the library, only that he'd seen her. None of her friends would ever go with her, except the one time she'd managed to drag Tommy in. He'd gotten bored almost immediately and decided to grab her for a quick snog.

She still blushed whenever she entered the reference section.

But she guessed Remus had been there of his own volition, unless he'd followed her.

No, he didn't seem the type.

"Well, that doesn't matter. He's just someone to talk to."

"Mmhmm."

Isabeau glared at her mother. "Don't start. You'll get him killed."

She waved her off. "Nonsense. Your father can't kill what he doesn't know about."

"Yes, because you're so good at keeping secrets."

Her mother threw a napkin at her. "Go do the dishes."

Remus couldn't sleep that night. Well, he hadn't slept much any night since the full moon. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was Isabeau when he'd attacked her, the terror reflected in her eyes. He could hear her panicked shout and practically smell the fear rolling off of her in waves.

Whenever he did manage to sleep, despite the imagery, he was always awoken by the gunshot moments later. Sometimes his shoulder would still pulse, despite being mostly healed at this point. A couple healing spells had done enough to keep him from bleeding. Now it was simply a matter of keeping his parents in the dark about it.

As far as they knew, he'd simply gotten lost and managed to stumble home. If they'd known he had been shot, much less that the girl who had done so suspected something, they'd be up and out of the town before the sun had set, and Remus couldn't bear the thought.

They'd never been rich, but had lived comfortably enough. But as the years went by and incidents became more common, their frequent upheavals had put a strain on both their savings and their minds. His mother used to be a strong woman, but she was sick more often than not now, no doubt due to the high amounts of stress caused by his condition. And his father took on longer and longer shifts for little more pay, simply to keep their heads above the water.

If they left now, it would have been the shortest amount of time they'd spent in one place. So, Remus took the gamble, if only for his parents' sakes.

Isabeau Dunn had no idea how much was at stake, and that it was all in her hands.

Sighing, Remus rolled out of bed and took a look at her mud-covered book.

"Wolves," he murmured, chuckling to himself.

Of course, she'd thought this would be something of use, but it was, in fact, the farthest from. He may have looked like a wolf when transformed, but he certainly never acted like one. He didn't hunt; he didn't have a pack. It just seemed that he was determined to attack every human he came across.

He grabbed his wand from the nightstand, flicking it in a familiar pattern. "Reparo."

The pages flipped before him, mud and water stains vanishing before his eyes. He spent a few minutes glossing over the content, though his mind was never really on it.

She laughed.

She actually laughed.

The entire wizarding world feared and hated him for what he was, but here was a muggle laughing about the whole thing.

It really was a lovely sound.

He briefly wondered what she meant by hobbits as he settled into the book.

The sound of a gunshot had Remus bolting upright, immediately grabbing his wand to counter whomever may be attacking. But he was alone in his room, safe and sound, save for the crick in his neck from how he'd slept.

He looked down at the book he'd been reading – still that damn volume on wolves – and noted that he was nearly finished with the thing when he passed out on his desk. He struggled to remember most of the content as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

The house was quiet. His father had gone to work hours ago, and his mother liked to volunteer in the city to keep her mind off things. She'd left him a note saying as much, apologizing for not waking him, but she knew how little he slept lately.

Rain rapping on the roof caught Remus's attention as he picked an apple off the kitchen island. The light tapping very quickly turned into a thunderous roar as a downpour enveloped the countryside. He watched the drops quickly wilt the flowers outside the window, the weight of it all too much for them to bear, while a rabbit quickly scurried back into its hovel.

He allowed himself a small sigh of relief at the sight. While Isabeau could drive, she preferred not to, which she had told him time and time again as they made their way to his home earlier that month. The awkward lurching from the vehicle now and again only confirmed that fact. So, perhaps the rain would keep her away, if only for another day, just to give him enough time to think it all over.

Of course, as he thought it, the doorbell rang, and there, on his doorstep, was Isabeau Dunn, soaked to the bone, shivering, and looking like a kicked puppy as she stood there.

"So," she started, completely oblivious to his wide-eyed stare. "I might have gone to the library, again, because I read through all my books last night – didn't sleep a wink of course – but I didn't want you to think that so I may or may not have biked the long way back from town so I could bike to your house looking like I'd come from home rather than the library and God must not have liked that because he damn near drowned me a block away, and now here I am admitting it all to you anyway, so I really am fucking freezing for no reason."

Remus blinked. She'd spoken so fast, he'd caught maybe half of what she said. He was still trying to comprehend that she was there. Yes, she said she would be but saying and doing were two very different things, he had learned.

"May I come in?" her quiet voice asked a moment later. "I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll probably catch cold otherwise."

"I…yes, no, please, come in," he stammered, realizing how rude it was of him to keep her waiting. It was only after he'd shut the door – with Isabeau practically bouncing in the entryway – that he fully comprehended what she had said. "Was that…a big bad wolf joke?"

She laughed like a caught child. "You'll have to forgive me for that. I'm not one to resist a good tease."

He almost laughed himself. Yesterday wasn't some fluke. She really was okay with it all, to the point of humoring him. Perhaps, a part of him thought, that was exactly what this all was: a tease. A joke with a grand finale he would live with for the rest of his life.

"Um…do you have a towel…I'm tracking water everywhere."

"Right. Yes," Remus started, moving past her to a linen closet. "Sorry…I guess I'm just-"

"Surprised I'm here?"

"Yes," he admitted, handing her a small towel. She took it with a smile, gently pinching her blonde waves between her hands, before popping the whole thing over her head.

"I said I would be," she replied, voice muffled by her hair-drying effort.

"You did."

He watched her briefly – not transfixed just…well he didn't bloody well know what he was at this point – when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. It was a picture in the living room – his mother and father on their wedding day to be exact – which normally he wouldn't have given a second thought to. But with Isabeau mumbling about the rain again beside him, Remus became painfully aware that moving pictures were, in fact, not considered normal in the muggle world.

While Isabeau was distracted with drying herself, Remus took the opportunity to sneak away and quietly flip the picture down.

He then did so with four others in view.

Merlin's beard, he had not thought this through.

Of course, he hadn't anticipated her coming inside. A nice afternoon stroll perhaps or just sitting out in the garden, but this was England so the rain would have to go and ruin everything.

What if his mother returned to see a sopping wet muggle in the house?

What if his father did through the Floo Network?!

"So, anyway, I – where'd you go?" he heard Isabeau call from the hallway.

"I'm in the kitchen," he replied, doing his best to pretend he wasn't about to have a full-blown panic attack. "Would…would you like some tea?"

Well, at least he'd always have his manners.

"Tea would be amazing," she sighed, wandering through the house into the kitchen. Her eyes briefly glanced her surroundings, not overly so, just the simple curiosity that comes from unfamiliar surroundings. She'd wrapped herself in this towel, grasping it like a child would their blanket.

Wordlessly, she grabbed a dishrag from the counter and stood on it.

She had good manners. His mother would like that.

"One of your pictures fell," Isabeau said quietly, probably observing his home still. He wondered if she expected something more…wolfish about it.

"Oh?" he replied, feigning ignorance. He'd never thought himself much of a liar, despite everything. "I'll get it later."

The only reason she probably wasn't grabbing it was because she had resigned herself to standing in that one spot lest she leave a trail of water across the house.

Small miracles.

They stood there in silence as the kettle heated, she looking around and he at her. He'd rarely used the stovetop to heat water. It was strange.

"You really believe me," he said, his voice so soft that he himself barely caught it. He thought (hoped) that maybe she wouldn't have heard it at all, but her green eyes were immediately focused on him.

"Of course I do."

"Why?"

Remus watched Isabeau catch herself, the smirk on her face fading. He realized she was probably going to mention finding him naked in the woods and promptly felt his face go red again.

Yes, that was still…a thing.

How he managed to get away without the other Marauders knowing that finer detail, he'd never know. It just never really occurred to them after he explained how gunshots work.

Isabeau leaned over the kitchen island, looking closer at him, to the point where he had to resist leaning away. She wasn't even that close to him. He just…wasn't much used to it.

"Your eyes," she admitted, her own narrowing as she strained to look at them. "You and that wolf have the same ones. No doubt about it. Intelligent and very blue."

Remus didn't know what to say to that. Did he thank her?

Fortunately, the kettle began to whistle, freeing him from…whatever they were just doing. Staring mostly. But they were right back to it again when he was done, only there was tea between them, sitting untouched. Isabeau had curled her fingers around the cup, attempting to absorb the heat. He should have offered her a blanket.

You still can, you dolt.

"I'm guessing you have questions," is what he said instead.

"Yes, I mean no, well yes, but not if you don't want to answer any. Then I don't. I'm perfectly satisfied," she said, paling as she stammered out an answer. "Okay, I'm not but I can live with it."

He chuckled at that, watching as she started to shake like an excited child. "Are you sure?"

"…no."

It was the quiet, almost guilty manner in which she said it that broke him. Shoulders shaking, he laughed until his stomach hurt, with Isabeau quickly joining him.

Who knew he could ever laugh about this?

"It's alright," he said after finally calming. "You can ask."

"Are you sure?"

"No," he admitted, wondering if he wasn't technically breaking Ministry rules. It wasn't about magic, strictly speaking, but it wasn't quite a muggle affair either. He supposed it didn't matter now. The Ministry hadn't kicked his door down yet, and she'd not told anyone. "But I want you to anyway."

Isabeau bit her lip, suddenly deep in thought. No doubt she had several unsavory questions and she was, fortunately, a kind enough person to not bring them up.

"Alright, um…" She spread her arms across the counter, fingers tapping on the surface. He noticed a bruise on her wrist from her fall the day before. "Have you…have you always been…"

"No," he said quietly, looking down at the countertop. It was made of wood, and he could count the grains if he wanted to. "I was four…he, uh…he came through my window and that was that."

He couldn't really remember the night, but sometimes he woke to the sound of a creature snarling in his ear, and his scars burning as if he'd just received them.

"Is that when you got those?" Isabeau asked quietly, and it was only then that he realized he was touching his scars.

Remus dropped his hand quickly. "Bad enough he made me this way. Had to mark me for the rest of my life too. Can't look in the mirror without…you know…"

Well, this was off to a lovely start. He shouldn't have insisted. Isabeau would have been fine not asking questions, and he wouldn't feel like absolute shit. Maybe he'd just crawl back into bed when she left. Didn't feel like a day to do much of anything.

"If it's any consolation, I like them," Isabeau said suddenly, causing Remus to look up and meet her gaze. She bit her lip, looking like the words had gotten away from her. "I mean, they look nice…on your face. I mean, it'd be nice if you didn't have them, but since you do they're…they're fine. Perfectly…perfectly fine."

The things this girl said. Sometimes, Remus just could not believe them.

"You're smiling again, that's good," Isabeau said with a sheepish grin of her own. And it turned out he was. "Why don't we try to keep it that way? Um…can you hear any better or smell things or anything like that?"

Remus blinked. That was a new one. Not even his friends had thought to ask him something like that when they'd learned.

"Should I be able to?"

Isabeau shrugged. "I don't know. Dogs can."

"I'm not a dog."

"Yes, I can see that, but you're not exactly human either," she said, wincing slightly at her word use. "I just thought maybe some of that might carry over."

He shrugged. "Never really thought about it. I've had this for so long, I wouldn't notice otherwise."

They carried on that way for nearly an hour, her asking relatively safe questions and him answering as best he could, their tea remaining untouched. She learned damn near everything. How he can't control himself, but will remember everything the morning after, how silver doesn't work like in the movies. He rather liked her suggestion that he just hide in the basement when the full moon came. It was a shame he'd tried that already.

"Oh, I should get going," she said suddenly as she glanced sunlight out the window. Remus ignored the disappointment welling in his chest. "My mum's back in town and that means we're back to inviting the neighbors over for dinner again. First full day back, she's got to go and make a show of it. Got ten others dropping by. Don't even have enough chairs."

She'd mumbled the sentence as she casually picked up the dishrag and wiped any droplets that had gotten away from it before tossing the thing in the sink, along with the towel, and turning to head toward the door. He watched her take notice of another picture lying down, which she thankfully did nothing with.

"I said I wouldn't be gone too long. I was just here to pick up my…oh my book!" Isabeau shouted, turning in place as her socks squeaked. "I don't suppose you worked some magic on it last night, did you?"

Sometimes he wondered if she wasn't messing with him.

"Something like that," Remus replied, heading for the stairs. He took them two at a time and returned to her side almost immediately with the book; didn't want her getting any ideas about fixing the pictures after all. "Good as new."

She took the outheld book gently, eyes wide as saucers, examining the front, back, and interior with such meticulous detail, he actually got worried the spell might have missed something.

"How did…what…you…you bloody miracle worker!" Isabeau cried, looking up from the book. "How on earth did you fix this mess?!"

Remus grinned, feeling a rare burst of pride in his chest. "Just a little bit of dedication and hard work."

It wasn't technically a lie. He had to learn the spell once upon a time.

"Little bit, my arse," she replied, eliciting a chuckle from him. "You weren't up all night, were you?"

"No, nothing like that. Don't worry."

Isabeau narrowed her eyes, staring into his. She was looking for a lie. At least he could comfortably hold her gaze in this regard.

Her sudden smile was barely a warning. One minute, she was just standing there, and in the next, she'd wrapped him up in a hug. Remus was so stunned by the action that his arms remained steadfastly at his sides until she was done. But her warmth remained. Was that why his face felt so hot?

"Bloody lifesaver, that's what you are, Remus Lupin."

"I, uh…I try my best," he stammered, watching Isabeau tug her shoes back on with the book tucked neatly under her arm. He could hear her grumbling about how wet they still were.

"Your best is utterly ridiculous," she said with a grin, opening the door. "I love it."

She made it halfway down his steps before stopping.

"I don't suppose you'd want to talk again, would you?"

"You can't possibly have more questions."

She turned red so fast, Remus thought he was hallucinating. "No, sorry, no…I don't want you to think that…no. Just talk about anything, if you want."

He blinked, at a loss. Not many people spoke to him just for him. The boys, yes, and Lily, but most people did so because he was a Marauder, meaning he knew James and Sirius. They were the popular ones, not him. Of course, that had always been the point. The less people he knew, the less it would hurt when they eventually left him.

But she didn't know James or Sirius. She'd met them, yes – and looked none too pleased about it – but she wasn't out to get closer to them.

Isabeau just wanted to talk to him, and not about being a werewolf, just him.

"If you don't want to, that's okay. I can take the hit."

"What?" Remus asked, his musing disrupted. "Sorry, no, I'd love to. Just not used to the, ah…attention I s'pose."

"Ah," Isabeau replied with a nod. "Back here then? Say…next Monday? Can't keep avoiding my responsibilities at home, much as I love to."

"Monday sounds good," he said, digging his hands into his pockets. "But not here. My parents aren't really fond of visitors."

Her mouth popped open to form a cute 'o' shape.

"And you let me in?! I could have gotten you in trouble!"

Remus waved her off. "You were soaked, and I'm a bit of a rebel."

"Now that's a bloody lie," Isabeau replied, pointing at him. He just laughed. "Well, you know where the library is. We'll meet there. Two on the dot. Don't be late."

He smiled softly. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Isabeau made her way to her downtrodden bike, wiping the water off the seat and the basket that she gingerly placed her prized possession in.

"Try not to drop it again!" he called out as she took off, gaining a rather rude gesture in reply.

Remus didn't shut the door until she was well out of his sight, and even then, only did so because a breeze came by and threatened to blow the newspaper halfway down the hall. He stood there in the entryway for a while, just content, that was until a woosh from the fireplace scared him half to death.

Lyall Lupin was standing in the living room, shaking the ash from his jacket. He had a bouquet of roses in his hand.

His timing could not have been better.

"Got off from the Ministry a little early today. Something about poltergeists getting in the plumbing again. Nasty habit of theirs. Never can get them to-" His father paused, glancing around the room. "Remus, why've you turned down all the pictures?"

Thanks for reading! Until next time!