Disclaimer: Not mine.

His Calling

Chapter 4

Hope

He saw his father that Saturday, and between words of anger and tears of joy they talked of things past and the problems yet to come. Marcus held the picture of Remus in his hands and remembered again why he had left. The first time he could not remember the night, the first time he had woken on the floor having managed to escape the barn and slip into the open window, his decision had been made.

He had looked at Remus lying in the cot, and heard his mother coming up the stairs when the click of the door latch had him spinning around to see his father. The look of horror, disappointment, and fear on his face had told Marcus it was time to leave.

Not that Anthony had suggested it, or even hinted at it aloud, but Marcus had read the look in his eyes, the way he no longer let Remus ride his big brother's shoulders, or sit with him on the porch swing. He had known it was time, but put it off until he found his mother in tears. Stepping back out of the living room, unseen, he had gathered his clothes and left that night, having heard her curse Greyback and cry when she had tried to say her son's name. He had turned north, hoping to put enough space between him and them to lend them safety.

He had often read the day old Prophets left on top of benches along the pavement in Diagon Alley and would scan the pages for part time work, news of Greyback, or any mention of medical cures. He had still had hope then. Still thought that someday things would be better.

He had often found work on the Muggle docks, unloading ships that he dreamed of climbing aboard and sailing away on. Knowing, even as he had thought of escaping, that his kind of prison would go with him.

He'd once broken into the back of Brown and Son's up in Godric's Hollow, stealing the Wolfbane potion he could not legally get because he was unregistered. For two months he had been able to run free, delighting in the sheer power he had felt, amazed at the heightened senses and the animalistic sensations that had coursed through his veins, for the first time fully feeling it in his human mind. The third month he had tasted blood and had been revolted at the act of ripping a small animal apart and ravishing it. He had never used the potion after that, preferring instead not to remember what he'd done, preferring to pretend that he was not what he was.

Every morning he would turn to Rosmerta and slide his arm around her waist. It was enough just to wake with her. Enough, just to smell her hair and know that she had so little fear of him that she could close her eyes and sleep with him so near. Whenever she rolled over and pulled him over her, and let him love her, he was in awe of her.

He looked up at his father hoping he understood. Knowing that he never would. Anthony would say all the right words, and do all the right things, and try, really try to understand what drove his son to put a witch he claimed to love in danger, but in the end he would think him stupid, selfish, and think that Greyback had taken his mind as well. Marcus thought of the Muggle gun his father had purchased in a dark and dangerous alley, and knew Anthony would put a bullet through his head rather then risk Rhea or his now only son.

"I need to know what to do," Rosmerta sat with her arms resting on the table, while father and son talked in the back, her hand wrapped round a hot mug. "He can't get the potion. When I tried to buy it they wouldn't sell it to me."

"He isn't registered. It's a double edged sword." Rhea spoke softly. "To get the potion he has to register what he is and then he is an animal, a creature not allowed to live as a normal man. We thought it best to try to … other ways. He had hoped his Muggle background would help."

"I want him to stay here, in the cellar."

"I can help you set it up," Rhea laid her hand on Rosmerta's. "Maybe now you can convince him to use it."

"I don't know, he wants to… to be normal so badly."

"Of course he does. I sometimes think it would have been better to happen when he was younger, before he knew what it was like not to be as he is, or, maybe later, to be able to remember better times. But, to be made this way when he was…he never had a real chance at anything."

"What worries me the most is that he…he's not always as careful as he should be. He does things."

"Things?"

"Last week, he went to Diagon. Alone."

"Oh."

"He sometimes… he went to Godric's Hollow. He wanted to look up an old friend he said."

"Talbot, they went to school together. Rosmerta, he shouldn't, if the truth is …"

"I know, I know… but what am I to do? If he forgets, even once to hide his eyes when the lights are dim or…"

"First, when the time draws near, make sure he always sits facing the light. And… feed him well. Make sure he does not transform on an empty stomach. The need for … for more… will still be there, but controlled. Easier to be satisfied. It's important that you understand it is not just the kill, but the hunt. He will look for a pack. In his wolf form he will be looking for … a pack of his own, a mate."

Rosmerta raised her eyes and looked to see the sadness in Rhea's.

"And the healing potion you use… I used to put some on him before the … the change…. It seems to last long enough to get rid of the smaller cuts and scratches as he gets them. You may want to try that. I am surprised he didn't remember to do it."

"He seldom talks about it, and when he does it's only after."

"I know, now let's see that cellar. There are ways of making it safer for him. Like… make sure the bars are closer together than you think they should be. His wolf form can get through things a human form would get stopped by, and he needs to have something to chew, a soup bone does well. Anything you have to keep him from trying to get out, or to hurt himself."

"He doesn't want Remus to know." Rosmerta stood and started for the cellar, then stopped and looked at Rhea. "If he thinks you are going to tell him, he will leave."

"He needs to know, but not yet. In time, when he is old enough to understand. All he knows is that his big brother is ill, and had to go away. "

"He has no memory of it?"

"Sweet Merlin, no. He wasn't even born when Marcus was… infected. By the time he was born Marcus had already learned to accept it. He was almost of age when he left home, Remus only two." She laughed looking at Rosmerta's face. "I know, Remus is sort of our bonus baby. I thought I was past having children when he came along."

"Do you regret it? Having … I didn't mean it like that… I'm sorry."

"Regret having Remus? Heavens, no. Marcus would still have left, it's not Remus alone that caused him to run. Sometimes I think Remus is the only thing that has held me and Anthony together. He is so special, so… different to Marcus. He's quiet, and… this may sound funny, but he is old. As if he sees things differently."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to infer that he could have been unwanted," Rosmerta said softy.

"No need to be." Rhea smiled and grabbed the younger witch's arm. "Now come, let's see that cellar."

"I think I have the perfect place," Rosmerta said back over her shoulder as she walked down. "It's a little alcove, reaches under the kitchen. I thought all it needs is a door. It's big enough for a bed and a small table."

Rhea agreed with her assessment of the area, but told her to only put a blanket in the corner, not leaving anything he could hurt himself on. She felt the foundation walls that made this portion of cellar and showed Rosmerta how to smooth the sharp edges and to make sure the cobbled floor was covered. She told Rosmerta to cover it with fresh earth and to make sure it was all freshened each month.

"It helps not to think of him as human when you set this up." Rhea said coldly. "You have to think of caging an animal, a vicious, evil, cruel animal. You must think of this monster as one that wants to destroy Marcus. Never, never confuse the two or try to be kind to Marcus by making it easier for the wolf. Hold them apart in your mind. Be ready to kill him if you must. If he comes at you, always be ready and never, ever approach him without your wand at the ready."

"I … I don't think I can," she looked up at the woman, surprised that she could talk this way about her son.

"Do it, or lose him, as simple as that. Remember, if you are kind to the wolf, and you let it get at you… who will take care of him then? No, never confuse the two, because if he kills you he kills himself as well."

That night as they lie in bed, with Rosmerta's head on his chest and his hand wound in her hair she felt sad for the first time since he had come. Until now she had not accepted that he would soon leave her, that in his leaving she would be more alone than she had ever been before.

"What are you thinking, Mrs. Lupin?"

"Nothing, Mr. Lupin." She lifted her head to look at him. "Are you sorry?"

"No, Albus is going to keep our certificate of marriage hidden. If it ever becomes legal, even … when it does he will file it."

"Even after you die, that's what you were going to say."

"It could be years from now. Now give me a smile."

She turned her head back down and snuggled into him again. "I want you to promise me to use the cellar."

She felt him tense and stop stroking her hair. "I want you to stop going to Godric's Hollow or any other wizarding town close to the moon and never after dusk."

He pushed her off of him and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

"Look in the mirror Romulus, look at your eyes. It's taking longer each time to come back, and your eyes look like that whenever the lights hit them just right."

"Do you think I am stupid?" He stood up and grabbed his trousers from the floor, sliding them on as he walked out of the room.

She rolled to her side, leaving him time to think about what she wanted, refusing to run after him and beg. Hearing him dress and his steps on the stairs, she knew he would walk into the night and not be home until morning. His long-legged gait would take him to the edge of town before he realized that he had no place else to go. He would sit in the field that edged the property of Hogwarts, and remember how it used to be, and try to forget what he was. Then, he would remember Rosmerta, and what waited for him, and wonder how he could ever want to leave.

Closing her eyes she waited until the sun was almost up, and the bed sunk under his weight before she felt him against her back again. Only then did she sigh, and thought she could sleep.

"I love you," he said softly as he pulled her back into his chest. "You have to believe that."

"Then take care of yourself." She struggled free and rolled over on her back to see him. "I don't want you dead."

"Oh?" he chuckled and rose up on one elbow to look down at her. "And why would that be?"

She reached up and slid her arm around his neck and pulled his mouth to hers, stopping just before their lips touched, she whispered, "Make love to me."