Lyall Lupin arrived home for lunch, dreading the conversation he knew was coming. He had been unable to focus on anything at work, and his boss had noticed. Mr. Finnegan had called him into the office a short while ago for a meeting.
"Lupin, you seem… off, today. You've been staring at the same report for hours, and I don't think you have so much as dotted an "I" today. Your mind is obviously not here. I can't have that." Finnegan's face was stern, and Lupin felt shame as he listened to the lecture. Even while battling his fears the last month, his work had never suffered. To be caught daydreaming, as Hope was fond of saying, was mortifying. Any other time, Lupin would have apologized, gone back to his desk, and kicked into overdrive (a popular muggle saying he had grown enamored with over the years). But today, today of all days, he could hardly look his boss in the face.
"Sir," he began. And then he realized that he really had no idea how to explain to Finnegan about his fears. Finnegan had been told about the incident with Greyback, shortly after Randolf Drone had left Lupin's office that fateful day. Finnegan had called Lyall in, and nearly suspended him for a week without pay because of his outburst. Only Lupin's work ethic had saved him- no one else could get through as many dark creatures reports as he could. Finnegan had been angrier than Lupin could ever remember him being. His face had been almost purple, and his hands had been clenched so tightly on his desk that the knuckles were white. Finnegan angry was not a sight Lupin would soon forget, and even now, he didn't wish for a repeat of the man's temper, not even with his fears for his family on his mind.
"Sir," he started again. "I'm afraid I'm not feeling well. We had fresh juice this morning, and I'm afraid the oranges weren't quite ripe. My stomach has been churning ever since." With a quick prayer to Merlin, Lupin forced his forehead to pop out in beads of sweat, and hoped his face had paled to an unnatural shade of green as he'd intended. Luckily, Finnegan seemed to notice the change, but not that it was deliberate.
"Very well, Lupin. Take the afternoon off. It's obvious you will be of no help today, and I would rather not watch you sprint past my office to the toilet. It's nearly lunch. Just…" he faltered. "Just clock out early. Mind, I expect you to put in full effort tomorrow, and I expect to see you at your desk this weekend. Those reports won't be processed on their own. You may go."
Lyall stood gingerly, playing it up for his boss, and thanked him quietly. Eager to escape, but not willing to have Finnegan repeal his decision, Lupin shuffled to the door. A few steps down the hall, when he was sure Finnegan could no longer see him, Lyall stood up straighter, lengthened his stride and returned to his office to gather his briefcase and the research on werewolves he had been hording for weeks. He locked his office behind him and made his way to the Atrium, where he could then Apparate to home. As he turned around and tucked in, Hope's and Remus' face swam into his mind, and seconds later, he was stumbling into the clearing near his home. As he made his way up the walk, he could see Hope in the kitchen, and the weight on his shoulders eased a bit as he realized she hadn't left him.
When no small boy greeted him at the door, Lyall felt a moment's panic, until Hope appeared. "He's in his room. I didn't think you would want to have this conversation with him around, so I fed him some lunch and asked him to play quietly and not come out until I went to get him. We should keep our voices down- I think he heard quite a bit this morning." She turned and walked back to the kitchen, her spine straight and stiff, and Lyall nearly shivered at the cold voice she had spoken to him in. He set his briefcase down by the door and kicked off his shoes before he followed his wife, a feeling of dread settling in his belly. Hope stood at the sink, her back to him, and Lyall took a step towards her, hoping to give her a kiss and reassure both of them.
"Don't, Lyall. Just…. don't," she said, without turning around. Even though his wife was a muggle through and through, she had her own magic when it came to her husband. She didn't need to see his face or hear him speak to know his intention just then. Suddenly, Lupin was afraid. She was still here, but would she remain here, after this conversation? This was the second time in only a few hours she had asked him to keep his distance. He knew then that he had to tell her everything. All the research he had done, all the precautions he had taken. He had to make her understand that the safest place for her, and especially for Remus, was here, at home, with him.
Resigning himself to an unpleasant discussion, Lyall sat at the table, crossed his arms, and kept his mouth shut. He watched his wife, waiting for her to turn and face him, and wasn't surprised when he saw her shoulders stiffen even more before she finally turned and looked at him. Her usually soft and kind features had hardened over the last few hours. Lyall felt as though he were looking at his mother-in-law, who had hated him on sight, and who probably still hated him, years later. Hope's face was unsmiling, the corners of her lips drawn so tight she had wrinkles, not that he would tell her that. Her dark green eyes, usually full of laughter and smiles, were hard as emeralds and nearly black.
"Well, quite honestly, her eyes match her voice," Lyall thought to himself, wisely keeping that bit to himself. The more they watched each other, the more nervous Lyall grew, afraid that she was going to insist on taking the boy to her parents' home, even for just a day or two. The Hope looking back at him now barely resembled the woman who had promised their son pancakes just this morning. Time seemed to slow to a stop, and he hoped she would say something soon. He was afraid to take the lead, although he felt that he probably should. Eventually, he realized she was waiting for him to begin, and he swallowed sharply, hoping to dislodge the lump in his throat. He coughed once, fidgeted in his chair, and finally tipped his head in acknowledgement.
"Hope," he started, his voice soft and pleading. "Can I please explain things? I didn't do a very good job this morning, and there are things you need to know." She didn't say anything, but she did twitch her shoulder slightly, which Lyall took to mean that he could continue. Starting at the beginning, he explained again about Greyback, the circumstances around his interview and what led Lyall to believe he was right about Greyback's lycanthropy. Hope didn't interrupt, but when he got to the part about telling Drone that werewolves deserved no more than death, the color began leeching out of her face. She leaned against the counter for support and crossed her arms in front of her chest, but said nothing.
Lyall paused, waiting for her to recover, and only resumed his story when she flicked a short nod at him. As he was telling her about Zander in St. Mungo's and that the healers didn't think he would ever wake again, her knees buckled. Lyall jumped up quickly and was around the table so fast he didn't remember moving. He took Hope by the arm, offering her his strength and support, and helped her to the nearest chair. She still hadn't said anything, but a tear began its slow descent down her cheek. Lyall wanted to stop. He didn't want to tell her anymore, and it was several minutes before she raised her eyes to his.
"Please. Tell me you have a plan," came a ragged whisper. Lyall knelt beside her chair, one hand on the back of it, and the other on her knee. He looked into his wife's eyes, and felt his heart break when he saw the plea there. He cupped her cheek and stood so he could press his forehead against hers, an apology of sorts, and an attempt to settle himself before he got to the rest of it. He dragged another chair close to hers, and clasped her hands between his when he sat. He waited silently until she looked up at him, the green of her eyes now a brilliant emerald color softened by the water of her tears, and he was pleased to see that she was holding them back.
"Darling, if anything, I'm good at plans. I work with dark creatures all day, every day. Of course I have a plan," he said. He began to lay out for her all the research he had done, and explained what he had learned about the full moon. Werewolves transformed only when the moon was high in the sky, and spent that night in their wolf forms. By sun-up, they were transformed back into their human forms. Lycanthropy, the disease that caused the transformation, was permanent, he explained. There was no cure, and no way to prevent someone infected with it from turning into a beast once a month. He explained that often, adults who were bitten didn't survive, while the children who did survive were "turned". At that, she sucked in a breath, but didn't interrupt.
He described the charms he had been casting on their home and the immediate vicinity. "Remus is protected here. You and I are protected here, because of the magic I have been able to do. Being here is the safest place for all of us, it would be impossible to set up this level of protection with only today, if we were to go to your parents'," he said. "Greyback should not be able to get in. All the windows are sealed against intruders; there is a charm in place to let me know when people are close, and I've strengthened our shield as much as I possibly can. I charm the door at night when we go to bed; it will alert me if anyone opens it in the night. The best defense in this case is that we know he could be coming. And if he does, I'm ready for him. Hope, look at me," he said, his voice strong and steady.
"I will protect you and Remus with my life. You both are my world. Hope, you are my heart. And Remus is my soul. I promise you- that monster won't touch any of us."
Hope held eye contact with him for several moments, her eyes searching his. She thought about all of the things she didn't know and blamed herself- she had never really been interested in his magical side. She understood the basics of being a wizard, and what that meant for their family, and potentially Remus. She knew that Remus himself would grow up to be a wizard; he was already capable of simple charms to help clean his messes, and to do things like tie his shoes. Lyall had delighted in showing their son what their abilities could do. Many evenings she had watched as Lyall said a phrase and encouraged Remus to repeat it. The first time Remus moved his shoes onto the rug, Lyall had nearly burst with pride. He had smiled so hard his eyes had nearly disappeared, and tears of joy rolled down his cheeks as he ruffled Remus's hair and shouted "That's my boy!" over and over again. Feeling a pang in her heart, Hope shook herself to clear the cloud of memory, and met Lyall's eyes again.
"Ok, Lyall. Ok." Hope's fingers tightened on his, and she blinked, clearing the unshed tears from her eyes. Her face no longer had that pinched look so reminiscent of her disapproving mother, and even though Lyall knew she was terrified, he also knew that she trusted him.
"This doesn't mean I forgive you, Lyall. You should have told me when you came home that day. I've watched you struggle alone for a month. Do you know that you've lost weight, and that your hair is going gray? I've watched you fight this on your own, and that's not fair. I'm your wife, you should have trusted me." The word wife was nearly spat out at him, but Lyall didn't say anything. Hope had given him his say, now he needed to give her hers.
"After tonight," she continued, "you and I have more talking to do. We have to figure out what to tell Remus, how to explain things for him. And I think, I really think, that we should consider moving. This Greyback sounds frighteningly resourceful. If you're placing all these charms and spells on our home, it makes me think that you think he could find us here. After we make it through tonight, we need to figure out our next step. Together, Lyall, because I'm your wife. Together."
By the time Hope was finished, the crushing weight on his shoulders had nearly disappeared. The pit in his stomach was still there, and the fear he felt deep in his heart that this monster would come for him was still nearly suffocating. But she and the boy were staying. The three of them would continue to be a family, and that felt better than anything had in the last month. Unsure of what to say, he stood, pulling Hope with him. This time when he stepped towards her, she settled into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and dipped his head towards hers, and simply held her. He smiled when he felt her arms go around his waist and tightened his grip into a hug.
"Oh Lyall," she said, her voice muffled by his shoulder. She breathed in deeply and held it for a moment, before exhaling a shaky breath. "I'm so scared." He lifted his head and looked down at her. When she lifted her eyes to his he said "I am too, darling. I am too." He pressed his lips to her forehead, squeezed once more, and pulled back.
"We need to speak to Remus. I hope that you will let me try to explain things." Hope nodded, and looked like she was going to speak again. He was surprised, therefore, when instead she rose up on her toes and met his mouth with hers.
The kiss was fierce and demanding. Hope's lips pressed hard against his, and held there for a few seconds. He felt her hands slide up his back and fist themselves in his robes, and she tilted her head, changing the angle of the kiss. Lyall cupped one hand behind her head, settled the other at her waist, and returned the pressure. Slowly, the kiss softened, then deepened, and soon, Hope's tongue was gently prodding his lips. Surprised, but not displeased, he accepted her invitation, stepping against her and slowly pushing her back towards the counter. When she bumped up against it, she groaned into his mouth, and brought one hand up to dive into his hair.
Their kiss continued, tongues dancing and their lips sliding smoothly against each other's. Lyall and Hope allowed themselves to get lost for a few moments, both still afraid, but also relieved that neither was alone. Lyall's hand skimmed up her side, until it gently cupped a breast. Hope started at the contact, and broke their kiss, panting as her eyes met his. Lyall watched as the fog cleared from the emerald colored eyes he loved, and struggled to control his breath.
"We can't, Lyall. Not now. I'm still hurt, and terrified, and just… not now. I'm sorry," Hope apologized. She slipped her arms from around his waist and scooted past him, heading for the stairs.
Lyall stood for a second, trying to calm himself and processing what had just happened. When he had left work today, he had not imagined that conversation ending in one of the most passionate kisses of his marriage. His heart was still racing. Hope hadn't ever kissed him like that, not in the lust fueled days of their courtship, not even on their wedding night. After a kiss like that, he had to believe that they would make it through this. Feeling lighter than he had felt in weeks, he grinned to himself and followed his wife up the stairs to see his son.