Disclaimer: I neither own the intellectual property of the Harry Potter universe, nor do profit from this work produced here. I would also like to formally thank Ms. Rowling for allowing respectable fan writers, such as myself, to post derivative works such as this, and invite her to have tea at my place anytime she likes.
Warnings: distressed!Lupin, featuring an overly protective papa wolf. Also, Dora nurses Teddy, but seriously, it's a normal part of life. Grow up.
The mood hanging over the dinner table as of eight-o-clock on May 11th was a somber one, with little conversation and far too much of it forced.
Dora watched as her husband checked the clock for the umpteenth time, tapping his fork on the table anxiously, dressed in the old, worn bathrobe he used for his transformations and his face a grayish color reminiscent of bad oatmeal. She could tell he was even more nervous than usual, as he kept glancing to Teddy's room. The baby's constant fussing for the past two days had made them both fretful, wondering if it were a sign of the impending full moon, their son's first.
Dora suddenly set her fork down and declared shortly, "I'm full." She stood and cleared her plate to the kitchen sink, cleaned it with a muttered scourgify, and placed the dish back in the cupboard. "You ought to take your potion now," she continued, taking the small pot off the stove where she'd been keeping it warm. She poured it into his favorite mug and walked over, setting it down on the table. The noise sounded just heavier than necessary.
Remus picked it up and eyed the distasteful concoction. It clung to the sides of the mug, green and nearer to a syrup or sludge than fluid liquid. As he watched, on lazy bubble rose through the murk and popped at the top. With a sigh, he lifted the mug and knocked it back in two gulps, before shuddering in revulsion.
He set the mug back down and glanced at the clock. Five minutes past. Twenty to go.
"We should probably wake Teddy up; poor thing won't be happy with us."
Remus nodded.
Tonks suddenly slammed her hand down on the table, making him jump. "For goodness' sake, Remus, say something!"
"And what am I supposed to say?" he demanded. "Dora, my son could be- I could've-"
"Teddy is going to be fine!"
"You don't know that!" All of his fear was bubbling out, now that the barrier of silence had been broken. "You can't know that, Dora!"
"He'll be with you the whole time!"
"It's too dangerous!"
"If you're right about this, then it'll be more dangerous for him on his own than with you there to help him!"
Remus sighed, anger and worry edging the breath. He knew she was right, but it still made him nervous. It was one thing to have your friends surrounding you, protected from any mishaps by their animagi forms. It was even acceptable to curl up at your wife's feet and let her scratch that spot right behind your ears as she talked aimlessly about her day, tamed by the miracle potion that had brought such relief these past few years.
But it was an entirely different manner to be watching over a human- and potentially, werewolf- child during a transformation.
But she was right. If Teddy had inherited his disease, then Dora couldn't risk being anywhere near him tonight. Administering Wolfsbane to a non-werewolf could be fatal, so if Teddy turned, he would have to do it without the calming effects of the potion. The only way to keep him from hurting himself in the process would be for his father to watch over him.
It was logical. That didn't mean Remus had to like it.
Dora reached over and squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. "It's going to be alright," she said comfortingly, and she almost hid the note of maternal fear in her voice. "I'll go get Teddy."
She disappeared into the hallway, and Remus took a deep breath, and then another, hoping it would help.
It didn't.
Dora returned with a sleepy Teddy a few minutes later, bouncing the baby on her hip. "You know the plan?" Remus questioned her, taking Teddy into his arms.
"Of course I do. We've gone over it ten times already."
"Just say it out loud, Dora. Please. For my sake."
She sighed, slightly exasperated, and rattled off: "I'll wait until half past. If I hear you bark once, it means it's safe to come get him. If you bark twice, it means he's transformed and I shouldn't come down."
"And if I don't bark?"
Another sigh. "Remus-"
"Dora."
She glared at him, and then muttered, "If you don't bark, it means the potion didn't work and I need to come save our son."
"Good. Good," he breathed, relieved, and then the clock struck quarter-past. "Alright. I'm going to go down now; hopefully I'll see you soon."
"Alright," she said determinedly. "Fifteen minutes, Remus."
"Right." He waited as she gave their son a gentle kiss on his lemon-colored hair, and then she stood on tiptoe to kiss him. He did so, and then pressed his forehead to hers, breathed in her calming scent. It was their ritual. A promise that come morning, everything would be fine.
A moment later, he pulled away, murmured a low, "Love you, darling," and turned to the basement door. He slipped inside, closed and locked the door behind him, descended the stairs, and cast one last charm over the whole room. Nothing would be escaping this place without the ability to do some fairly advanced magic.
The basement was dark and damp; he lit his wand and paced back and forth for a few minutes, humming an old lullaby to his son and hoping Teddy wouldn't have to be woken up by- well, that he wouldn't have to wake up anytime soon. When the muggle watch on his wrist read eight-twenty, he let out a shaky breath and carried Teddy over to the small bassinet Dora had placed in the corner. Then he retreated to the far end and secured the collar around his head.
It was a large dog collar which had been chained to the wall, all three of which had been enchanted so as not to snap or crumble. This brought him some measure of calm, as it was highly unlikely he'd be able to escape it and attack his son if anything went wrong. A fairly simple clasp, it would not take much difficulty for him to undo, presuming the Wolfsbane did take effect, even without human hands and fingers. He clicked in the clasp and then waited, checking his watch every few seconds and watching the hand jump from eight-twenty to eight-twenty one. His heart skipped a beat. Twenty-two. His breath began to sharpen; his hands shook in trepidation against his will. Twenty-three.
At eight-twenty four, outside the little muggle house, the earth turned just enough so that the first ray of light from the full moon could spill over its curvature and in through the window of the tiny basement, its invisible call beckoning to life the wolf within his blood, and Remus screamed, dropping to his knees as pain struck every fiber of his form.
Within his legs and arms, the bones stretched and lengthened, far worse than the most agonizing growing pains. Hair pushed through the pores in his skin, coarse and grey. His teeth grew and sharpened, his whole face felt as though it were being twisted and pulled out of shape, his spine elongated to form a tail. The bulky form filled out the bathrobe, and the screams in his throat morphed into tortured bays as his vocal chords thickened. He howled, collapsed, and lay panting on the ground for several seconds, shuddering and waiting for the pain to die.
When at last it did, Remus let out a mental sigh of relief and thought, It's over, thank heavens. With that, he realized that the potion had indeed worked- realized he could in fact, realize- and slowly pushed himself to his feet- er, paws- balancing on the back two for a few seconds at a time as he tried to work the clasp free. After a minute or so he managed it, and then shrugged off the bathrobe and listened intently, furry ears flicking this way and that.
A strange, pitiful noise met his sensitive ears- a sort of infantile mewling. Remus was instantly set on edge. The noise invoked a sense of paternal responsibility inside him, and he realized fearfully that it was not just his rational mind that thought so, either. The wolfish instincts had become protective, as well.
Slowly, hesitantly, he crept over to the bassinet, sniffing the air. The human scent was still strong, but that didn't mean anything, for the whole house was imbued with that scent. He sniffed at the bassinet, and here he caught the smell of wolf, though he knew- or rather, hoped- that could just be his own scent.
Tentatively, he knocked the bassinet with his snout. The rocker moved, but not enough, and he cursed himself inwardly for not putting Teddy in something a little lower to the ground. He knocked it again, harder, and the crib swung further than he'd meant it to. A whirl of gray tumbled out, and a moment later, Remus found himself looking down at a pitifully squalling wolf cub.
His heart ceased to beat.
No. No. He chanted the word in his mind, as if it were some incantation that could reverse the past, could reverse nature. Not Teddy. Not my son.
But he couldn't deny the truth before his very eyes. The cub- Teddy- let out a frightened squeal, clearly still shocked from the pain of the transformation. The wolf in him felt a very different, almost foreign urge- not to hunt, but to protect. Something had hurt his offspring. The wolf wanted to attack the threat, but didn't know where to turn.
Unfortunately, Remus's human mind did. For once, he wanted to follow the self-harming desires of the wolf, wanted to punish himself for his mistakes. His father's heart was being violently torn in half, for his greatest fear had come true: he'd passed his condition on to his own innocent child. He'd infected his beautiful son with a curse.
He was no better than Greyback.
The cub mewled again, now not so much out of pain as hunger- hunger? For what? For a mother's milk? For human flesh? What had he done? Oh, Teddy, I'm sorry, he despaired inwardly. Papa's so sorry. Even as he watched, Teddy hungrily sank his own sharp fangs into his tiny paw, and let out a little yelp of pain.
In an effort to calm the child, he curled around him protectively, providing the cub with warmth. Teddy snuffled and mouthed his paw, and Remus suddenly realized the only solution to keep his son from harming himself, at least for that night. He willing offered his paw to the cub, who chewed on his toes like a teething infant (which, Remus supposed, he could be- he had no idea how development worked with werewolf cubs). The needle-sharp fangs dug painfully into his flesh, breaking skin and drawing blood, but Remus suffered it in silence, considering it he smallest penance he could have for having cursed an innocent child with such pain and suffering. He let out a low, comforting noise in the back of his throat, hoping the cub would understand. It's okay now. Papa's here. Papa is not going to let anything bad happen to you… not again…
His ears flickered, suddenly, as he took note of soft thumps coming from upstairs- Dora's footsteps, he realized. She was pacing back and forth on the kitchen floor, probably frantic with worry. Dread settled in his heart; he had to let her know, before she came down, ready to do what he'd told her had to be done. But how could he? How could he kill her hope?
He heard the footsteps pause, and then, weakly, head for the basement door. Before she could open it, he let out two short barks, and then ducked his head to his paws, ears lying flat in shame.
Upstairs, he heard her stop, and then- oh, how he hated this enhanced hearing- the low thump of her knees on the floor, and his wife's quiet sobs.
If a wolf could have cried, he would have joined her, his heart breaking with sorrow and terrible guilt. Instead, he simply let out a low, mournful howl, and heard Dora begin to weep all the harder above him.
Nymphadora awoke the next morning to find herself curled up uncomfortably against the basement door, beams of sunlight drifting in through the window. She checked the clock on the kitchen wall; it was still very early, only a little after six. She stretched, frowning in confusion, and wondered what had happened.
A second later, reality flooded into her mind.
For a long moment, she sat still, remembering. Remembering the two short barks that had effectively destroyed her last few shreds of hope. Remembered sobbing bitterly on the kitchen floor. Remembered falling asleep with her back to the door, wishing nothing more than that she could open it rush down into the basement to hold her child in her arms, comforting him, soothing him.
Remembered that her son was a werewolf.
Slowly, with her heart pounding in her throat, she forced herself to stand up stiffly and unlock the door, pulling it open just a crack.
Soft daylight filtered in through a window somewhere below her, but the stairs were designed in such a way that she couldn't see much of the basement from the landing. No noise met her ears, and, with a feeling like a weight in the pit of her stomach, she took the first step down the stairs, leaving the door open behind her. "Remus?" she called softly as she walked. "Remus, are you awake?"
No answer. Her heart thudded. Let them be okay. Please, let them be okay.
"Remus?" She descended the last few steps. "Remus, what happ-"
She turned and stopped. Her husband didn't look up, red-eyed and crying silently over their motionless child.
For one horrible moment, she thought Teddy was dead. Then she saw her child fidget in his sleep… and saw the razor-thin cuts all over Remus's hands. "Oh my goodness," she breathed, kneeling down beside him. "Remus- Remus, look at me-"
He closed his eyes and let out a low, shuddering sob. Tonks pulled him into a consoling hug and let her husband dissolve in her embrace.
"What have I done?" he wept. "What have I done? My own son, Dora- my own child-!"
She stroked his hair and let the hot tears fall against her shoulders. "It's not your fault," she whispered. "It's not, Remus. You never wanted this to happen."
"I've cursed my own son. He'll suffer for the rest of his life because of me…" He drew back, brushing the child's fine, dark hair with his fingers even as he wept, the tears falling warm onto Teddy's face and blankets. "I'm sorry, so sorry," he choked out. "Please don't hate me. Please…"
And Tonks really couldn't be sure whether he were talking to her or to their son.
"He would never hate you," she said firmly, and tilted his tear-streaked face up by the chin. "And neither would I. Besides, if it had to happen this way, at least you're here for him. At least you'll be able to help him."
Remus nodded thickly, but the pain was still evident in his face. Dora sat silently beside him and let him cry; soon, her own face was glazed with tears of sorrow. She knew what the transformations had done to her husband, how horribly they tormented him; knew the fears that one day, the Wolfsbane potion he took would wear off too soon, or the batch would be defective, and he'd awaken to the stuff of nightmares; knew the stigma, the prejudice, the eyes watching them at every turn. She knew that this disease meant her son's earliest childhood would, at least one night a month, be one of intense suffering. She knew, and she grieved. And Remus grieved with her.
Perhaps it was the noise of this mourning that woke Teddy; perhaps he was simply tired of resting. Either way, without either of them realizing it, the month-old infant opened his eyes, and, after a few seconds of disoriented confusion, began to fuss.
Dora looked over, startled, and saw the child rooting up against Remus's arm. "Oh- he must be hungry," she murmured, momentarily distracted from her sorrows as she took the child into her arms and turned away, undoing the top few buttons of her shirt. Remus leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes as she nursed the child, exhausted by his grief and the sleepless night. Soon after, he heard his wife chuckling ruefully.
"You're awfully modest, aren't you?" she teased, forcing him to open his eyes. She was buttoning her shirt again. "Looking away while a lady nurses."
He managed a bare grin, but it wasn't convincing. Dora's smile faded. "What are we going to do, Remus?" she sighed.
He shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know how to raise a son with my condition, Dora. My parents- well, they did their best, but they weren't exactly stellar models on the rearing of a lycanthrope."
She nodded, and then reached over and took his hand. "Hey," she said seriously, looking into his amber eyes with her own warm brown. "We'll figure it out, alright? For goodness' sake, we helped bring down the empire of the most fearsome dark wizard Great Britain has ever seen; I think we can figure out how to raise a child. Even a werewolf pup, at that."
That managed to elicit a chuckle from him, and she gave a him a halfhearted, affectionate punch in the shoulder. With a sigh, Lupin stood up and offered her his hand, which Dora accepted.
"You go clean yourself up," she said, tugging teasingly on the collar of his bathrobe, "and I'll start some breakfast for the two of us. I'm sure a good plate of bacon and eggs will make you feel better."
He nodded and kissed her head. "I think they just might. Thank you, Dora." He turned to go.
"Oh, and Remus?" He glanced back, and she smiled, holding their son in her arms. New morning sun beamed down, lighting her hair afire like the first rosy rays of dawn, settling golden on the face of the product of their love, their little son. To him, it seemed a more lovely image than the fairest painted Madonna and Child. "You're not alone," she reminded him gently. "We're going to figure this out- together."
He found that he was smiling back- weakly, with too much worry in his eyes- but it was a smile, and he found that, although one of his most devastating fears had come to life, the future didn't look to terribly dismal: bacon and eggs for breakfast, a job, a home, a wonderful wife- and a perfect, beautiful son. So life was a little more complicated now. So be it; he was alright with complicated. He could deal with complicated, if it meant that this vision of perfection would still be his.
"Of course we will," he agreed, and then headed up the stairs, feeling remarkably lighter than he had when he'd first come down.
A/N: Hope you all liked it; please leave a review to tell me what you thought! Pax et bonum, and see you all soon!