Worth the Wait

Chapter Eight: Aftermath

Summary: After spending some time at St. Mungo's, Remus finally gets to go home.

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Remus woke up shortly after his fifth birthday in pain, though he had no idea what the date was. All he could remember from that day was a hot, burning itch on his left side, close to where his ribs were, and the fact that his whole body felt broken and wet, almost mushy. Like he was lying in puddle and he couldn't get dry no matter what he tried. His face was wet with tears, and though Remus didn't remember when he started crying, he knew he couldn't stop until the pain went away.

Remus didn't remember much of the night the monster visited his bedroom, but he knew it was important, and that it changed everything. Neither of his parents left his side for long after he was fully conscious, and they always seemed to be sad or crying, and Remus didn't understand it. They never told him what was wrong when he asked, and he was too tired to pursue it.

He was tired a lot these days. He couldn't remember his fifth birthday, but he wouldn't have been surprised if his parents told him that he had slept through it. It seemed like that was the majority of what he did now-sleep. He had trouble focusing sometimes, and he still couldn't get out of bed. There were too many bandages and he couldn't move properly. He was glad the pain was less than when he first woke up. It had been all he could feel.

"Remus?" He could hear his mother's voice. He opened his eyes and found her sitting beside his bed, looking worried. They had only been home for about a day or so, and Remus barely spent any time away from his own bed. The same could be said for his parents, who were constantly close to him. "Are you hungry, dear?" Her voice sounded so far away. Remus didn't understand why when she was so close to him.

"No," he mumbled, rubbing his right eye with his hand. "Bathroom," he said instead.

"Of course, sweetie." She moved towards him, and Remus could feel a kiss on his head. His parents had taken to giving him more hugs and kisses lately, though Remus wasn't sure it was necessary as he was never unhappy with the amount he'd gotten before. It was another thing he didn't quite understand.

"I've got it, Hope," he heard his dad say from the other side of his room. Remus couldn't remember if he had always been there or if he'd just come in. Both his dad and mother seemed to just fade in and out of his sight these days, and Remus could never tell for sure if they ever left him alone.

"Okay," his mother relented. He felt his dad walk over and gently pick him up. He felt another kiss on his head, from his dad this time, and he burrowed his face into his dad's chest. "I'll get some soup; he hasn't eaten in a while." He heard his mom leave the room.

"Hi Dad," he mumbled.

"Hi Remus." Remus could feel his dad's hand running through his hair, comforting him. The walk to the bathroom was short, and though Remus appreciated the help from his dad, he couldn't help but feel like a baby. He thought turning five would mean he'd get to do more things, not less.

"Can I write to Star yet?" Remus asked as he was being carried back to his bedroom. His mother came in a moment later with a tray with soup and more potion vials. His dad placed him gently back into bed, helping him sit up by positioning pillows behind him.

"I'm afraid not," his dad said. Remus frowned. He hadn't written to Star in such a long time, and he couldn't even see if Star was writing to him because his left arm was wrapped in bandages from his elbow up to the second knuckles of his fingers. He felt his dad's thumbs rub across his face, soaking up his tears and he realized he was crying. "I know you must miss him, but you have to get better, first, okay?" Remus sniffled and nodded. His father leaned forward and placed a kiss on Remus's forehead.

"He'll still be there when you get better, okay?" his mother said on his other side.

"Promise?" Remus asked, looking at her with tears in his eyes. His mother set down the tray carefully on his nightstand and sat beside him on the bed. He could feel the comforting weight of his dad leaning protectively against him on the other side. Remus liked being sandwiched between his parents, but he really wished his body wasn't covered in a variety of casts and bandages. And he wished he didn't feel so tired all the time either.

"He's your soulmate, sweetheart. He won't just go away." Remus guessed his mother was right about that. He looked up at both of his parents-soulmates, he thought-and smiled. "I know you're not hungry, but I need you to eat something so you can take your potions, okay?"

"Mmkay," Remus agreed and was rewarded with a kiss from his mother. He didn't understand why he had to take so many potions ever since he woke up in the hospital, but he knew they were important because his parents were insistent that he never miss a single dose. It seemed to make his parents feel better when he took them, so Remus didn't mind too much, even though some of them tasted awful.

Remus only managed about five spoonfuls of soup before he shook his head and refused to eat anymore. Then he quickly drank the two potion vials his mother handed him with help from his father. It wasn't long before he was asleep and dreaming of anthropomorphic stars, dogs, and lions.

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Hope looked over at Lyall and forced down the perpetual lump in her throat. "Do you think it'll work?" she asked, running one hand through Remus's hair slowly, soothing her son in his sleep. "The potion to keep him from turning into a werewolf?"

Lyall looked back at her with dark circles underneath his eyes. His face was starting to get pale and his beard was growing with the lack of personal care in the past few days. "I don't know," he said with so much pain her heart broke. "I'm s-" he started to say but stopped, remembering, no doubt, their conversation a couple of days ago. Lyall had told over and over again that what had happened to Remus-the monster that had come into her house and attacked him-was in no way her fault. He told her repeatedly that there wasn't a cosmic rebalancing of the universe because she had used magic to help her conceive a child when she was born without it. But she still couldn't stop apology after apology from stumbling out of her mouth like a drunkard out of a closing bar. Lyall hadn't stopped apologizing since before they came home from St. Mungo's either, and though she didn't understand what he felt he had to apologize for, she certainly understood the compulsion-the need to alleviate the guilt in whatever way possible. They had both made a promise to ban the word 'sorry' from their vocabulary after one too many apologies. Hope didn't know if that made things better or worse.

"He's going to be a werewolf, isn't he?" she asked.

"We don't know that for sure," Lyall said, but she could see the tears in his eyes, and she knew. "I'm.." Lyall looked helplessly at her, and she reached over to take his hand, holding it gently on top of Remus's body. "I'm afraid he's going to hate me," he whispered. I'm afraid you're going to hate me too, she heard. She also heard the silent confession that Lyall knew deep down that the anti-lycanthropic potions wouldn't work.

"He won't," she said immediately. I won't. I don't.

Lyall smiled at her, but it was filled with grief and sorrow. "Being a werewolf will make life so difficult for him," he said. Hope didn't doubt it. Lyall never talked too much about his job, but he had told her enough about the wizarding world's prejudice against magical beings and creatures. She had even seen their prejudice against muggles during the few times Lyall would take her and Remus to Diagon Alley. It was slightly better when they had visited one of the wizarding villages in Wales, but there was still always an undercurrent of condescension whenever a wizard had spoken to her.

"He'll have us." But even as she said it she wasn't sure if that would do Remus any good in the future. "He'll have you," she amended, looking at Lyall. He held her hand tighter.

"He'll have us," he repeated. "He'll need you. I'll need you, still."

Hope started crying. After the first night spent at the busy London hospital, Hope didn't think she'd ever have any tears left to shed, but it had become almost like a ritual now. It seemed like most of her conversations with Lyall ended up with her in tears. Whether it was out of guilt, a strange mix of love and depression, or self-hatred, Hope had gotten used to crying multiple times a day. it exhausted her but she couldn't seem to stop. She could feel Lyall shift carefully, mindful not to disturb Remus, and reach over with his other arm to pull her in, cradling her head against his shoulder. His other hand was still holding hers, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against the back of her hand.

"We'll get through this," he whispered against her hair. Hope tried to let herself believe him.

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Lyall had never considered himself to be a coward, despite not having been sorted into Gryffindor house, but he couldn't bring it upon himself to tell Hope the truth about Greyback. Telling Hope now meant he would have to tell Remus at some point in the future, and Lyall wasn't sure if that was a task he would ever be up to. He had tried to tell her, multiple times, if only to completely clear away her unfounded guilt, but all he could see was the hatred in her eyes (and in Remus's eyes too), and his throat would close up. Nothing could slip past his lips except for useless apologies. And now he couldn't even say that.

Lyall may not have been a coward, but he was deeply afraid and selfish. He didn't want to lose either Hope or Remus. It had taken him months to confess to Hope about their initial meeting with the boggart, and Lyall could feel this secret lodging deeper than that one ever had. He wondered, not for the first time since that fateful night, if things would have turned out different if he was a better man. To Hope. To his son whom he had cursed for the rest of his life. Even to the monster Greyback.

But as he felt Hope drift off to sleep against his shoulder and Remus shift against his side, mumbling a few nonsensical welsh alphabet sounds, he felt a deep, selfish love grip at his heart. In an alternate universe, Lyall figured, Remus wouldn't have been bitten by a werewolf because Lyall had kept a professional demeanor when dealing with Greyback, Hitchens, and Carter. But that alternate universe Lyall was most likely a better man than he was, and he would go on to be rewarded with a happier, carefree son. Looking down at Remus sleeping against him, Lyall also knew that in another alternate universe, Remus would not have survived Greyback's attack, and that Lyall would have lost both his son and his wife. Lyall didn't want to lose either of them. He didn't think he would survive by himself.

It wouldn't help either of them to know the truth about Greyback, he thought. And then he thought: coward.

He placed a kiss on Hope's head, and briefly let go of Hope's hand to grab Remus's right hand to hold in between his and Hope's. He'd rather be a coward for now if it meant being able to hold both the love of his life and his son.

He could only hope that they would forgive him someday when he finally told them the truth.