Disclaimer: Know the drill, right? Not mine.

Chapter Four: Silence is Scary

"Why can't we just use magic?" Callum whined.

"Because it won't come out right," Remus replied distractedly. "Now, hush."

"This is boring."

"Callum, hush."

"You know, this would all be going much faster if we just used magic," he pointed out reasonably.

"Callum?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Hush." Remus smiled as the boy huffed but subsided, and returned his concentration to the wet auburn hair in front of his face. After a week of living with the child, he'd been slowly driven crazy by the way the hair fell constantly into Callum's eyes. At least two inches had to go; it was just harder to judge those two inches now that the hair was wet and brushed straight. He spritzed some more water on it and adjusted his grip on the small pair of scissors. "This is the last of it, I promise."

"It had better be," he grumbled. He sat, not quite patiently, and waited for the interminable haircut to be over. His foot twitched restlessly against the foot of the chair.

"Remus?" A feminine voice called from the fireplace. Both males turned to see Ginny Weasley's head resting in the grate.

"Hello, Ginny," he greeted with a broad smile. "How is life after Hogwarts?"

"Soon to be life back at Hogwarts," she laughed. "Poppy has accepted me as her apprentice, so I'll be back pretty soon for my first training."

"That's wonderful! I'm very proud of you."

"Thanks. What I was actually calling about though, is that Mum wanted me to invite you and Callum to dinner tonight, if you haven't got other plans."

Callum froze at the mention of his name, and Remus placed a gently hand on his thin shoulder. "She knows about Callum?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"Of course not," she answered blithely. "Poppy told me so that I would know what was going on when I came back and found an eight year old running around the castle after you." Her warm brown eyes flicked over to the boy with a gentle smile. "Don't worry, Callum, I'm not going to tell anyone." She returned her attention to the older man. "I told Mum that you were taking care of someone; I figured I'd let the two of you decide the specifics, so that stories wouldn't cross and counter."

"I still think you're the most devious of the Weasley children," he chuckled.

"Remus, I'm shocked. Simply shocked," she retorted, her eyes sparkling through her indignation. "I have a reputation to uphold, I'll have you know."

"Yes, you're the one who doesn't get caught."

She giggled, one hand covering her mouth. "Dinner's at seven. Can we expect you?"

"Callum?" he asked carefully. But for that one dinner in the Great Hall, every other meal having been eaten in their chambers away from Severus Snape (at Callum's request), it would be his first time out in company since the attack. He could feel the muscles beneath his hand tighten in tension, but the slowly drying curls moved up and down slightly. "We'll be there, Ginny, and tell your mother thank you."

"Tell her yourself, Remus, you'll see her tonight." Winking at the both of them, her head disappeared.

Callum snorted. "Was she in Hufflepuff?"

For some reason, Remus found that extraordinarily funny, though if anyone had asked him, he couldn't have put his finger on precisely why. When he'd stopped laughing, he wiped his eyes and sighed. "No, she was in Gryffindor," he managed.

"Just as bad."

Remus started laughing again. It was true that Ginny could, on occasion, be incredibly silly, but he also knew that she had perfected the technique of being an artless innocent in order to escape trouble for everything short of murder. He'd been so proud of her when he figured it out he hadn't even been angry when he realized he'd fallen for it.

Much, anyway.

Setting the scissors on the end table, Remus picked up his wand and got rid of the hair clippings and tools, stretching as he went over and sank into the couch. They hadn't really spoken of anything serious since that first night; neither had wanted to broach something so heavy and charged. The thought was bubbling in the back of his brain, though, that it might do the boy some good to let the Weasleys know. Given a secret, they all of them kept it, except perhaps Percy who hadn't spoken to them in four years anyway, and while Molly might smother the child at first, perhaps she could help him in ways that he couldn't: as a parent.

For that was the one thing that was simply baffling to Remus. He knew how to be a teacher, a colleague, a friend, a mentor, even a brother, son, or uncle, but he had not idea how to go about trying to be a parent to this abandoned child. Callum hadn't again cried in front of Remus, but he saw sometimes, when the boy woke up, the streaks down his face of the red puffiness around his eyes.

"Callum," he began hesitantly. "It is completely your choice, but you might want to consider telling the Weasleys about the bite."

Grey and blue eyes flashed furiously. "Why, so it can be all around the wizarding world by this time tomorrow? Pureblood boy becomes freak?"

"They know about me," he said simply.

Callum's mouth hung open. "They do?" he asked finally.

"Yes, and it is actually Arthur and Molly who Dumbledore convince me to come back to teach. I had four of their children in my classes my first year teaching, and two of them in the past few years. I worked very closely with them and all of their children" (except Percy, his mind kept adding) "during the war, and I consider them some of my closest friends. And they have never once been anything but supportive of my lycanthropy."

"But they're purebloods," he protested, forehead scrunched in confusion. "Even if they are poor and muggle-loving, they're still purebloods, and it's a taint far worse than a muggle."

"The Weasleys don't really hold with a lot of that," he replied neutrally. "Besides, Molly Weasley is my favorite cook in the world. She makes the food here at Hogwarts seem paltry by comparison."

"Paltry?"

"Insignificant, unimportant, low," Remus explained. "Trust me, Callum, after eating one of her dinners, you'll never be fully satisfied by normal food again."

"If you say so," he conceded doubtfully. "I don't know that I want to tell them, though."

"You don't have to if you don't want to," his guardian assured. "I just want you to think about it. Meanwhile, let's come up with a good story for while you're here, just in case." Hazel eyes gleaming, Remus rubbed his hands together excitedly and leaned forward on the couch. He was still a Marauder, after all, the last one living, and some things never change.

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At quarter of seven, two figures stepped into the chaotic zoo that was the status quo of the Burrow. Callum shrank back against Remus, immensely grateful for the comforting arm the man put around him. Dozens of things were happening at once, and to a child who had grown up with servants swiftly and silently going about their work, it was rather intimidating.

"Oy!" A tall, gangling redhead cried out, spotting them in front of the hearth. "Remus is here!"

"Remus!"

"Remus!"

Three bodies, including the redhead, threw themselves at the older werewolf, hugging him tightly.

"Harry, Hermione, Ron," he greeted delightedly. "How are all of you?"

"Yes, Remus, so much has changed in the week since you've seen us," Harry teased lightly, his vivid green eyes merry.

"Ginny!" Hermione called up the stairs. "Remus is here!"

There was a flash of pale yellow sundress as a young woman with dark red hair slid down the banister at a breakneck pace, launching into the air and almost landing on her friends. "Hullo, Remus," she said calmly. "Have a nice trip?"

Laughing, he pulled her into a tight hug that she returned. While the Golden Trio was still occupied with Remus, the youngest Weasley child turned her gaze to the half-hiding shadow. "We haven't been formerly introduced," she murmured close to him, remembering that Heidi had placed a great deal of importance of the niceties of society. She could only assume that the brother was the same way. "My name is Ginevra Weasley, but most everyone calls me Ginny."

"Callum Sleipak," he answered shakily, holding out his small, trembling hand. Ginny took it gravely and clasped it, feeling him relax ever-so-slightly.

She glanced at the others. "They may be a little while catching up," she chuckled. "Would you like to wait for Remus? Or would you like me to take you to meet my mum?"

Despite his impression of her in the early afternoon, Callum found himself trusting the older girl. Maybe it was simply because she knew about the bite and still seemed to be welcoming, though that could have been more for Lupin's benefit than his own, but he almost wanted to like her. "It would be more polite to introduce myself to your mother," he reasoned finally, and she hid a smile at the formality of it.

"She'll be in the kitchen; it's this way." Keeping hold of his hand, she tugged lightly and started walking. "I should warn you though, she's a little bit of a dragon. Very nice, and very sweet, but she's a little high-strung, especially with all my brothers running around wreaking havoc." She winked at him conspiratorially. "Just look sweet and be as polite as you've been and she'll absolutely adore you, and she won't have a harsh word said."

"Even if I tell them my secret?" he wondered, but he said nothing aloud, simply nodded. He had been thinking about it all day, and still hadn't come to a decision about it yet. Remus trusted them with his life; that had to weigh for something, but he just wasn't sure if it was enough.

The kitchen seemed to be the epicenter of the chaos, and Molly Weasley reined over it, somehow managing to cook things whose scents were wafting up Callum's sensitive nose to make his tummy rumble even as she sent the dishes and silverware outside to set themselves, washed the dishes she'd finished using, and chased out any number of redheads. He watched her, fascinated by her ability to focus on so many things at once.

Without any warning, the small plump woman reached out and grabbed the ear of a short, stocky (what else) redhead. "Fred, you try to put one more Canary Cream in that pudding, so help me, you'll be washing every single dish by hand!" She screeched.

"Oh, come on, Mum," another voice complained from the doorway. "I'm Fred."

"Then you'll both be doing it," she decided, ignoring their dismay. "OUT!"

Callum was trying desperately to remember what Ginny had said about her mother being sweet when all of a sudden the matriarch's gaze fell on him, and he gulped. He looked up at her solemnly through his curls, resisting the temptation to shrink against Ginny's side as he had done with Remus. He was a Sleipak; what did he have to fear?

"And who is this?" Molly asked, quite gently.

Ginny winked at her mother over the boy's head. "Mum, this is Callum," she introduced, purposely leaving off his last name. "He's the boy Remus is taking care of right now. Callum, this is my mother, Molly Weasley."

Pushing down his fear, Callum extended his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Weasley, and I thank you for your hospitality in inviting me to dinner."

Molly stared at him like she'd never seen anything like him, one hand pressed to her chest in surprise. "Well…oh, my…you sweet thing!" Before he knew what was going on, he was smothered in a tight hug, that felt strangely good. He hadn't grown up with a great deal of physical contact, but he tentatively put his arms around her as far as they could go and hugged her back.

That was what Remus found when he walked into the kitchen, and he couldn't have been happier. Ginny winked across at him, and he smiled broadly. Bravo, Gin. Molly released his charge and embraced him so tightly he had a fleeting fear of breaking a rib.

"Remus," she scolded gently, "you're not eating enough! There's thin, and then there's you!"

"I was saving room for your wonderful food, Molly," he teased her lightly. "I was telling Callum all about it today, and I made my own mouth water."

"Oh, he is just the most precious child," she gushed, not caring that said child was still in the room. "How did you take up with him, anyway?"

Remus glanced quickly at the abruptly frozen Callum. "His sister asked me to be a mentor, of sorts," he replied easily. "I said I'd be honored to, seeing as I don't have any students for the summer." All of which was technically true, he justified. He'd told the truth; just not the whole truth.

"I got bitten by a werewolf, and Mister Remus is helping me," Callum explained all in a rush, blushing and succumbing to the need to hide his face in Ginny's arm. She made a vague soothing sound and gripped his shoulder.

Molly stared at him again, her kind eyes filling with tears. "Oh, you poor thing," she murmured. "Oh, you poor, poor thing." She shook herself, like a dog coming in out of the rain, and smiled briskly. "Well, if you're with Remus, then you're in the best possible hands, and you know, dear, you can always count on us if you need something."

"I can?" He asked, startled.

"Absolutely, you precious thing," she assured him, stroking his cheek. "You can owl us, of floo call us, or just come on over when you need or want to. It's easy enough to remember," she added. "This is the Burrow."

Callum had been raised in a huge, spotless mansion, where everything was pristine and formal, but suddenly this messy, crazy household with all its noise and activity seemed like the best place in the world.

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Remus smiled as he changed the sleeping child into pajamas and tucked him into bed. Callum had fallen asleep sometime after dessert, curled up on the couch while the adults conversed, their talk ranging freely as it will in the company of old and treasured friends. He hadn't woken up, even when Remus had picked him up and flooed back to their chambers in Hogwarts.

Yawning, Remus stretched and headed down to his own room, changing into the pajamas Harry, Ron and Hermione had given him the previous Christmas. Light blue cotton, they were charmed with fluffy white sheep that wandered about the fabric, chewing aimlessly at the patches of green grass. He couldn't think of anything more utterly inappropriate for a werewolf; he absolutely loved them. He slipped under the covers and fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

He woke up to the sound of someone sniffling in his room. He sniffed the air thoughtfully, and identified the signature, noting too the heavy tang of fear. "Lumos," he murmured, and the wand on his nightstand emitted a pale silver glow.

Callum stood at the foot as his bed, eyes red and tear filled, his hands shaking as he held a blanket around him. "I'm sorry," he whimpered. "I shouldn't have woken you."

"Bad dreams?" he guessed, his voice low and gentle. The boy nodded jerkily, and Remus considered his options. "Would you like to spend the rest of the night in here?" he offered, and Callum's lips twitched in a smile.

Going to the other side of the bed, Callum climbed up and under the covers, burrowing next to the man who represented the only safety harbor he knew. Remus put his arms around him, feeling the tremors slowly fade, then cease all together. "I have nightmares, too," he admitted quietly. "It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"How do you make them go away?"

"You don't, really," he whispered honestly. "But there's ways to make them not quite as bad, ways to keep your mind calm so that they're less likely to come."

"Like what?"

"Do you like music, Callum?" The boy nodded, mystified. Remembering something Harry had told him about the search for the Philosopher's Stone, Remus conjured a small lap harp onto the bedside table, enchanting it to make it play softly and continuously. "Music soothes the soul, my boy; even the soul of the wild beast."

"It's not as bad with the music," he agreed, his muscles loosening as he started sinking back into sleep. "It's just the silence that's scary."

Remus stayed awake long into the night, listening to Callum's steady breathing, almost in time to the music. He whole-heartedly agreed; the silence was scary, and for now, the music would be enough. HE sighed and settled himself back into his pillows, the unaccustomed weight and warmth of a small child leaving him feeling vaguely nostalgic. He remembered a day, it felt like so long ago, that he'd fallen asleep on the couch at James and Lily's with baby Harry dozing in his arms. When he'd woken up and felt and saw the infant there, he had felt a corresponding warmth deep in his souls. Cubs are important, the wolf inside him had agreed. Cubs are essential. It was the seductive softness of the wolf, its clear desire to bring more werewolves into the world, that had convinced Remus never to have children of his own. Now, with Callum sleeping peacefully beside him, he found that he regretted that decision.