Disclaimer: Not mine.


His Calling

Chapter 5

Hope Shattered


That Christmas when the snow was falling heavily and he found it impossible to stay in any longer, Romulus found a job repairing the chimney of a small inn close to Manchester. He was glad of the extra money that he did not have to take from the Inn's account, already knowing how he would spend it.

He would buy her that pair of loop earrings she looked at each time she passed the shop's window and she would have a fine shawl, of the best lace he could buy, ordered from Paris. He knew the one she had seen on the shoulders of one of the guests and had talked about all that night and into the next. If he was careful, and didn't buy lunch, but brought it from home, he would have enough. Just enough.

He took his pay and apparated to Godric's Hollow from Diagon, the earrings safely tucked in his pockets. He looked at the card in his hand and soon matched the address, hurrying to purchase the shawl before they closed for the last shopping night before Christmas Eve.

The small bell announced his arrival as he entered, stomping the snow from his feet and slapping it from his arms.

"Right frightful it is," the shopkeeper looked up from stocking the bottom shelf. "You the one that sent the owl? The one come for the wrap?"

He nodded and blew into his hands to warm him, too cold yet to talk without his voice shaking, he nodded his head and grinned.

"There, go over by the fire and warm up," she laughed at him. "The winds just seem to be letting up."

"No, getting worse," he croaked. "Shite, it's freezing out there."

That's when he looked at her, to smile at her, and let her know that he appreciated the offer to warm himself. That is when she stumbled back and screamed, holding her hands out to him as if to fend him off, falling backwards in horror.

"No," he said, stepping back to put more distance between them. "I wont hurt you, please… just let me pay for the shawl and I'll leave…please."

"FUCKING WOLF!" She yelled as the door to the apartment in the back opened.

"Jess?" a man's voice questioned as her hand trembled and pointed at Marcus, screaming what he was again.

He turned to flee too late, too slow. The first curse hit him full in the back, the second lower, to crack his thigh and split it open. He hissed in pain, groping for his wand that flew from his hand as he heard a second set of footsteps enter behind him.

He felt the slicing of his skin before he heard the curse or saw the flash of light. Turning to see his assailants, he squinted into the light of yet another curse. He thought of the earrings as he fell, and thought of her eyes as the first kick found his ribs. He whispered her name as blackness took him, and fisted his hand, wanting to feel the band that they could not see.

"What the fuck did it say?"

"It called someone, Rose something."

One of the wizards knelt down and pulled a takeaway bag from the Three Broomsticks from his inside pocket. "Bet it's that bitch Rosmerta, up in Hogsmeade. Bet she's been feeding it."

"Yeah, come on. " He hauled up Marcus' upper body by his hair. "Let's take it back to her. Show her what she has been taking care of. Ya think she would have recognized the eyes."

"It's freezing out there, just toss it in the street," Jess shuddered at the sight of the stricken wolf.

"I ain't getting stuck digging a hole for no dead animal, just dump it at the inn."

"The Ministry should pay. There should be a price on its head. Fine, do what you want, just get it out of here, I can't stand its stench."

Rosmerta was just pulling the pudding out of the oven when she heard the thump at the back door. She looked up at the clock a little surprised that he had returned so early. No matter how cold it was she knew he would not return until he had finished his work, and he would never leave a chimney unfinished on such a bitterly cold night.

She wiped her hands on a towel and tossed it up to hang over her shoulder, planning to use it to transfer the pudding to the cooling rack. Walking to the door, she grinned, expecting to find him unable to pull his wand out from under the two sets of robes and the jumper he was wearing. She opened the door and looked down.

She knew who it was, and what had happened even before the pain registered in her mind, before she thought to bend down and check for life. She knew as her knees stung from falling on the icy stone steps and the sobs ripped her chest open that it would do no good to cry. She knew when she put her head back and screamed into the night that the warm sticky stuff that covered her hands was his and not hers. And, when she fell forward, resting her head on his chest, she knew she would never feel his hand entwine her hair, entice his fingers, and pull her close, as he lowered his face to hers.

She closed her eyes and turned her face flat to his chest, not wanting to not hear his heart, to feel his chest not move, to admit he was dead. She thought it odd that he had come home early. She wondered if he had finished the job, or if he had planned to go back in the morning.

She curled up next to him, put her head on his shoulder and draped her arm across his chest, willing him enough warmth to wake him, to see him sit up on the bed and start to the shower. She sighed and closed her eyes as the snow continued to fall and cover his blood, knowing that her life had ended.

A hand squeezed her shoulder. "Come child."

She tilted her head up and saw Minerva, then looked back down in front of her and saw the blood now solid and firm, blackish but still glistening through the snow she had disturbed in moving. She took her finger and ran in from his hairline, around his face, touching his ear and ending at his chin.

"Come," she heard again, and pulled away from the voice.

"Now, now," the cooing voice insisted. "Let us help him."

Rosmerta laid her head again on his chest and shook her head. "He won't let you."

"Ah, child…"

"Ain't no good like that," Aberforth stepped forward, pushing Minerva to the side, and picked Rosmerta up, prying Marcus's jumper from her hands. "Where?"

"Upstairs, third floor, " Minerva whispered and turned back to Albus. "If he hadn't of come in here Merlin only knows how long she would have sat there."

"Take care of her while I escort the dear boy home." Albus went down on one knee and gently cast a spell to clean the blood.

"He is home Albus."

He sighed as he stood up and sadly levitated Marcus into the kitchen and laid him on the table. "He can not stay here. We must try to protect Miss… Mrs. Lupin."

"Mrs. Lupin? Oh Albus, you didn't."

"I did. I only hope that for a short time they had a taste of what could have been." He turned to the doorway and lowered the warming spell Aberforth had thrown over the couple.

Hearing Rosmerta's shrill voice and Aberforth's deeper timbre, Minerva hurried to the stairs to be pushed aside as Rosmerta came running back down.

"Albus! No!" She ran into the kitchen and pushed him away from the body that lie on the table. "I want him here. If you try to take him so help me Merlin I will make your life a living hell. Don't think I wont tell everything I know about you and that stupid army you think you are being so fucking careful about. Don't think I won't talk about everything you wanted to know about the Malfoy's and Yaxley."

"I am only returning him to his family for a decent burial he cannot receive here." Albus did not respond to her anger, or her threat.

"And have his brother forever think of him on Christmas like this?" She walked to the table and looked down at his face. "This isn't Romulus. It''s not him. This is the wolf, the monster that took him."

She turned to Albus, fighting to swallow, knowing if she did not sit soon she would fall, thankful when Minerva slid a chair to the back of her legs and made her sit

"Albus, there is that plot on the ridge, we could… don't look at me like that. It has not been used for years but it is still Hogwarts' property and as such you need no approval."

"Rosmerta," Albus peered over his glasses. "It is a solution. There is a small, but well kept, cemetery we use for special magical creatures. If I may, I will take him there."

"With animals?"

"With wonderful creatures. The last true King of the Centaur, and the noble creatures that helped the original founders build the school are said to lie there. "

Rosmerta nodded, then stood and moved the now cool pudding to the sideboard. "I have work to do."

"Child, nothing that cannot wait."

Rosmerta lifted her eyes to Minerva's and then returned to her work of preparing the Christmas meal. "I trust you will tell Rhea and Anthony. They need to know, and they need to know that I failed."

"You did not…"

"I failed. They also need to know to stay away. There will be gossip and if the gossip follows them home Remus will know what happened." She looked back at the table and saw only the wolf. Rhea was right. She needed to see one and not think of the other.

She would cook dinner, and hope for guests. Christmas was in the morning, and there was much to do. Finishing the preparations for the handful of guests she would have, she returned upstairs and stood looking around her rooms, unsure of what to do, or where to start. For two years, he had slept here. For only two years she had shared her life with him.

She sat at the vanity, picked up her brush, let down her hair and began to ready for the day, refusing to cry and give in to what they had both known would happen. With a sudden anger, she slammed the heel of her hand into her reflection and screamed above the sound of shattering glass.

.

.

.

Spring was a long time coming that year. The snow seemed to have settled and did not want to move on, the north wind continued to bring down the icy air long into March, and still kissed the nights as April started.

Remus would fold his arms on the sill, then rest his chin on his arms as he sat and watched his father walk out to the new barn. His father had told him he could help finish the work on the inside, had even bought him a book on carpentry for Christmas, only to refuse to let him go out of the house. Remus had drawn pictures and told his dad how it should look and how he could make a ladder with no nails and how to attach the doors using pegs and posts instead of the more expensive iron hinges that had been destroyed with the old barn.

"If he wasn't such a book learner I could make him into a master carpenter," his father boasted and ruffled his hair.

"It's always good to have two trades," his mother would tell him. "Before we moved here your father could have gotten a job anywhere. He was what they called a mechanic, fixed all sorts of things when they went wrong."

On Remus' ninth birthday, he got his own tool set and four new books. One showed the workings of Muggle engines. He would sit next to his father and listen to the explanations of things he could only see in pictures.

The next Christmas he got a jumper, neatly folded at the foot of his bed. Their holiday meal was like any other, nothing special, nothing for only once a year. Vanilla cake at the end of the meal, covered with white fluffy frosting and sprinkled with chocolate was the only thing to set it apart. Remus frowned and looked at his lap when his mum brought it in and set it on the table.

"Thought at least we would have Plum Pudding, you always make it. This is the worse Christmas ever," he sniffed and ran his sleeve over his eyes. "Grandpa and Grandma didn't even come."

Rhea cleared the table leaving father and son alone. Not yet able to put this day and Marcus into two separate places. She saw Anthony watching her and turned to the sink to wash the dishes by hand.

"'It's not safe this year son." She stiffened at hearing Anthony, not wanting him to finish. "Wolves up on the ridge again. Too close for this time of year."

"I read in the Prophet about that big one. You think maybe it's him? Greyback they called him. You think that's what colour he changes?"

Rhea dropped the plate she was washing, cursing to see the new chip on the edge.

"No, probably just a regular wolf, son. No need for the likes of Greyback to be around these parts now is there?"

"Paper says that this time of year Werewolves come in closer looking for human blood cause the animals are still in their dens and holes, till it gets warmer he said."

"Can't believe everything you read in that rag. You got a question about them, or something scary you ask me or Mum, got it?"

"Yeah. So you think that is why they are coming closer?"

"No, I think it's because they are building over on the upper pasture. New house and the road is cutting into their running. The more land that's taken away the closer they come."

"Do they go after Muggles too?"

"Wolves? Of course."

"No," Remus put a piece of cake in his mouth and talked around it. "Werewolves."

"I believe they do. Only it's the wizards, and only the strongest ones, that live through it."

"Boy, if I ever see one I'll blast it."

Rhea turned back to the table and saw Anthony looking at her. "Well now Remus, what would you do if I was bit?"

"No wolf could get you Dad."

"Just pretend. Would you blast me?"

"Umm, well… no, but…"

"Why?"

"Cause you're my Dad."

"And?"

"An old bite couldn't make you mean, Dad. You'd never hurt no one."

"If a Werewolf got me I might."

"But ya wouldn't mean it. Not really."

"I see." His father leaned back in his chair. "So, the meaning is different to the doing?"

"Sort of." Remus leaned back in his chair, the mirror image of his father. "It's like Mum. She broke that plate but didn't mean to, but if she was to throw it at the wall bet you would give her bloody hell."

"Remus!" Rhea spun to him, horrified to hear him swear as Anthony began to laugh.

"Son, come to the living room. I have a story to tell you," he looked at Rhea and stood up, waiting for her response.

"Do you think he's ready?" she asked quietly, as Remus ran to the living room.

"I would say if he is old enough to read about Greyback in the paper, he is old enough to hear the truth."

"Anthony," she started as he crossed the distance to her. "Is it him? On the ridge, is it Greyback?"

"Hush now." Anthony tipped up her chin and gazed at her. "You are still beautiful. Do you know that?"

"I know that is your way of shutting me up."

Anthony chuckled and gave her a small kiss. "I don't think he will be all that surprised. He's a smart boy, and this past summer he kept hinting at things. It's been a year, Rhea, it can't be put off any longer."

She nodded and picked up the uneaten cake. "Here, if know him this will make it easier to swallow."