February 27, 1964

Remus Lupin was jarred awake abruptly when his father bolted from the bed. He blinked owlishly as his father scurried from the room, decided there was nothing to be frightened of, and wormed his way up towards the newly vacant pillow beside his mother. He snuggled down into the warmth of the bed, and drifted quickly back to sleep. An hour later, his mother began to stir, nudging Remus with an elbow as she stretched. He opened his eyes, blinked a few times, and looked into his mother's softly smiling face. Her blond hair was sleep tousled and her eyes were still a deep, dark emerald, the color they were when she was very tired or newly wakened. Remus thought she was the most beautiful person in the world, and gave her a sleepy smile in return. Her hand slipped out from under the covers and cupped the back of his head gently.

"Good morning, sweet boy," she whispered, a soft smile playing at her lips. "How do you feel about pancakes for breakfast? With pumpkin syrup and sweet cream and some orange juice? I'll even let you help me squeeze it," she said. The small boy's face lit up, and he nodded enthusiastically. Leaning forward, he bumped his nose to his mother's and mumbled "I love you, mum," before scampering off the bed to change. The soft sound of bare feet padding away echoed back as Hope swung her legs to the side of the bed.

"Now where did Lyall get to this morning," she wondered to herself. She vaguely remembered his dash to the toilet, but still had been nearly asleep, and dismissed it when she didn't hear anything. Now, with the sun shining in through the window, and a small boy to feed, her brain was beginning to stir. She grabbed a robe from the hook by the door, slipped her feet into her husband's slippers, and made her way down the stairs to find him.

Lyall, awake for an hour now, and with two pots of tea in him, was seated at the table, his eyes glazed in that faraway look she had become so used to lately, as he looked out the window towards the trees. He was so engrossed in his thoughts he didn't hear Hope calling his name. He startled a bit when her hand slipped around his shoulder, and nearly dropped his mug. Some of the now cold tea splashed over the rim, dripping down his hand and into his lap. With a flick of his wand, the tea was syphoned back into the mug, and he set it down on the table before turning to smile sadly at his wife. His hand reached back to cup hers, and she leaned a hip against him. The feeling of her body pressed against his was comforting, and he sighed and leaned his head against her.

"Darling, I wish you would tell me what's going on," Hope said, gazing fondly at her husband. "We've been married long enough that I can tell when something is bothering you. You've been jumpy and sad for weeks now, I wish you would share. Maybe I can help." Bending down, she planted a soft kiss on the crown of his head, much like the ones she bestowed on Remus when he stood still long enough to let her. She stood straight again, and ran her fingers from one shoulder to the other as she walked behind her husband to start the breakfast she had promised her son.

That simple, loving touch broke something inside Lyall. Forgetting his before-dawn promise to keep this from her, he turned to watch her walk away.

"Hope," he said. Just one word, said so softly, so sadly, stopped her in her tracks. As she turned to look back at her husband, he slowly stood. Stepping away from the chair, he reached out for her hand, clasping it in his own, ice cold fingers gripping hers. "Hope, I need to tell you something," he said. "Please understand, I didn't know. I didn't mean to do this, and I don't know that anything will happen, but I need to warn you, just in case it does…"

Before he could finish, a brown-haired tornado burst into the room, red shirt half buttoned, brown corduroy pants wrinkled, and one sock missing. Remus hadn't yet brushed his hair, and it stood up in spikes in all directions. When his eyes met his father's, he gave a shout and launched himself at Lyall.

"Papa! Mum said we can have pancakes for breakfast! And I get to help her squeeze the juice! And there's sweet cream! Papa, have breakfast with me, please?" Remus's large brown eyes latched onto Lyall's darker ones, and father regarded son with a feeling of love so powerful it caused his heart to thump painfully in his chest. "Of course, lad, pancakes sound wonderful. Why don't I help your mum get everything out while you brush your hair, and find your other sock. And then when you're done, you can come back and I will help you both squeeze the juice, ok?" Remus nodded his head so hard his hair flopped into his eyes, and took off for the stairs. Lyall watched the boy run off with a small smile on his face. Only when the boy was out of sight did he turn to face his wife again.

Hope was regarding him with a stern, wary expression on her face. She didn't say anything, merely watched him as he struggled with how to tell her. "Hope, something happened at work a few weeks ago," and he told her quickly about Zander asking for his help, and the "muggle" the aurors had brought in. She had known about the dead children, the Daily Prophet was delivered to their house every day and she had seen the headline but not read the article. She listened as he described the man's appearance and explained his perceptions, only stopping him when he said the man was surely a werewolf.

"Werewolf? Lyall, werewolves aren't real. They're creatures of nightmares and fairy tales. You know, that Red Riding Hood story I've told Remus, about the little girl who goes to see her grandmother and instead it's a werewolf who wants to eat her? Lyall? They're just fairy tale creatures, aren't they?" By the time she finished, her voice was shaky, her cheeks blotched and her eyes fearful, as she saw the truth on her husband's face. "Lyall, you don't mean to tell me you provoked one of these creatures, do you? Lyall?" Still waiting for his reassurance, Hope stepped towards the table and collapsed into a chair. "Lyall?" She was nearly shrieking now, understanding that his silence confirmed her fears.

Hope was still staring at her husband, a look of shock on her face, when Remus bounded back into the room. He was a perceptive boy- it didn't take long before he realized his parents were upset. Looking from one to the other, he stayed close to the stairs, unsure of what had happened, but knowing he didn't want any part of whatever had made them so sad. Neither his mum nor his papa had noticed him yet, and he didn't say anything, because he didn't want to draw their attention to him. He slowly backed up towards the steps, climbing as quietly as he could before he sat down out of sight a few risers up. The small boy scooted towards the wall, and hunched his shoulders as he cocked his head, listening hard for when his parents spoke again.

"Hope…" Lyall's voice was soft, nearly a whisper, and it was a tone Remus had never heard before. He thought his father sounded quite sad, and there was something else, something he couldn't quite understand. He heard a scrape, and then his mother's name again, and realized his father had taken a step towards his mother.

"Don't!" One word, said in a voice so cold and stiff Remus didn't recognize it. "Don't you dare come near me right now, Lyall," his mother hissed. Remus had to strain to catch the last words. As his mother spoke, her voice became softer, but no less cold and it frightened the boy. He scooted up a couple more steps, eager to hide from whatever had made his mother so angry. He felt a little safer with the distance, but he also realized that now he really couldn't hear what they were saying. Both his mother and his father had dropped their voices, remembering that a young boy expecting pancakes could burst in at any moment. Staying where he was seemed safest, so Remus waited, occasionally catching a few words as his parents continued to argue.

"Quiet, Hope, he'll hear," said his father.

"I don't bloody CARE if he hears, Lyall!" came his mother's louder than intended response. Remus's interest was piqued- who else could "he" refer too? There was no one else in their home; it was just his small family. Feeling braver once he realized the conversation was about him in some way, Remus slowly made his way down the stairs. He stopped on the last one, wedged himself closer to the wall and listened some more.

"A werewolf, Lyall. A WEREWOLF! And you provoked him? What could you possibly have been thinking! A werewolf!" His mother's voice was angry- angrier and colder than Remus had ever heard it in his short life, and he was suddenly afraid. Remus was only four (almost five!), and his mother always told him that he was more mature than other children his age. The small boy was proud of that, so instead of listening, he tried to keep himself calm by remembering the stories his mum read to him at night.

Nothing was more pleasant than snuggling into his big warm bed, clutching the teddy his father had given him, and listening to his mother's soft voice tell him story after story until his eyes drifted closed. One story in particular scared him more than the rest, though. It was a story about a little girl named Red who went to see her granny. Whenever his mum started that story, Remus pictured a girl a little older than himself, dressed in a bright red hat and red coat, skipping her way along the path. "How fun it must be to be that free," he thought to himself, "able to go visiting whenever he wanted, no hands to hold to stay safe." The more he repeated the story in his head, the faster his heart beat- when the girl got to her grandmother's house, a wolf would be waiting there.

Remus was terrified of wolves- the picture in the book was very scary. The Big Bad Wolf was large and gray, and even though it was dressed in an old lady's clothes, Remus was still nervous when his mother got to that page. The wolf in the book had a shaggy, gray head with a long snout and black nose. He could see all the sharp, white teeth; especially the big ones that mum called "fangs". Those scared him the most. They hung low over the wolf's lower lip, and looked as sharp as the knife that papa used to cut the Christmas ham last year.

Remus tried to remember more of the picture that scared him so badly. As he thought hard, the wolf's eyes popped into his head. He could see that they were green, but not the pretty dark green like his mum's. They were a cold, light green, like a stormy sky, and he could see little dots gold within the green. They were narrow, and gave the wolf in the book a very sneaky and angry look. Just picturing the page made Remus's heart race, and he felt cold thinking about it. The boy was dragged out of the pages of his mother's book when he heard her voice again.

"Lyall, I want to take Remus. I want to go and stay with my parents. If what you said is true, it's not safe for our son to be here! Tomorrow is the full moon! Werewolves come out on the full moon, right? Lyall, please! Please let me go. We'll come back in a couple days. He will be safe then, won't he?" His mother was pleading, her voice had changed. It was uneven and shaky, and it sounded like she was crying.

Remus decided he had been away long enough, and backed up a few steps. He ran down loudly, making sure his parents heard him. He jumped off the last step and landed with a sharp thud. Careful to keep his face settled, he asked "Can I help with the juice, mummy? You said I could," hoping to distract his parents. The charm of the boy worked. His mother smiled at him through the tears she quickly wiped away, and his father reached a hand out to tousle his hair.

"Of course, lad," Lyall said with a sad smile. "Let's get to it." Lyall herded his son outside and headed out towards the small, magical orchard behind their home. Before leaving the porch, Lyall risked one last glance at his wife. Hope was still standing near the counter, her face white and he watched as a single tear rolled down her cheek. Lyall's heart broke then. He knew the safest place for Remus was home, but he couldn't help but wish he could grant his wife's request and allow her to take the boy to his muggle relatives for a couple days. Lyall was afraid that one of his worst fears had come true- his wife couldn't look at him. She understood the dangers of his world now, and Lyall was terrified that he would lose her.

After the breakfast was cooked and the small family sat around their dining table, Lyall looked once more at his wife. When their eyes met, Hope tried to resume their earlier argument. Lyall, however, refused to discuss anything with his wife while their son was in the same room, regardless of the looks she kept shooting him at the table. He had managed to eat a few bites of the pumpkin pancakes, but that was only because he didn't want his son to be disappointed.

Remus was an uncommonly perceptive child and he had sat quietly, watching his parents while eating his breakfast. Lyall wasn't sure what, if anything, the boy had heard, but given Remus's lack of exuberance in devouring his favorite breakfast, he wouldn't be surprised if the boy had heard more than he could understand. Alternating between watching his son and his wife, who was nudging pancake bits around her plate, Lyall found he didn't have much of an appetite left. Forcing down a couple more bites and a slug of orange juice, he rose from the table and put his dishes in the sink.

As he passed by his wife, he bent to kiss her on the cheek. "I'm sorry, Hope. We'll talk more when I come home for lunch," he whispered, before brushing her damp cheek with his lips. He tasted the salt of her tears, and wished he could stay with her today, wished he could explain to her what he had done to protect them all, wished he could make her understand that his family meant everything to him. His conscience tugged at him- "you could have kept your mouth shut, fool! You could have checked the registry and seen the man wasn't there, and kept your mouth shut. Instead, you antagonized him, you called him names, and you know damn well you made an enemy for life that day", he thought to himself, as he sighed.

With a last, quick squeeze of his wife's shoulder, he bent to hug his son. Remus threw his arms around his father's neck and squeezed as hard as his nearly five-year-old arms could, and smacked a loud kiss on Lyall's cheek. "I love you, papa," he said.

His son's sweet voice pulled at Lyall's heart all over again, and when he wrapped his arms around him, he stood, bringing the boy with him for a full body hug. His arms tightened, and poor Remus coughed, trying to get enough air into his little lungs. "I love you too, lad. You be good for your mother today, and stay close to home, aye?" he said, his voice gruff with emotion. Remus pulled back and nodded his head.

"I will papa, I promise." Remus's face was so solemn that Lyall had no doubt the boy had heard more than he should have earlier. With a last quick squeeze, he set the boy down, grabbed his briefcase, and left the house.