A/N: Went back and read some of Of Wolves and Men's first chapters and decided they needed some revisions. There are no plot changes, but I think they're written a little better now. Go check it out if you're bored!

nessafly: THANK YOU! I was a bit worried about the sudden tone change for Ch. 49, but I'm glad people seem to still enjoy hearing about Belby's influence on Rowan. He'll continue to be a driving force for her. As for Barty, thank you again! I was pretty pleased with the way they ended things too. Thanks for the review and for reading, as always!

missalex3030: Yeees! I'm so glad you appreciate Rowan's independence. I hate reading stories about women who totally fall apart without a man. And trouble is definitely brewing. Thanks for the awesome reviews!

misslak: Yeah, I always feel a bit sad writing about Peter. The Marauders in general all make me really sad when I think about their lives/deaths from canon. But thank you, as always! ^^

sarahmichellegellarfan1: Buh, it's so hard to write out your full penname. I might start shortening it to SMGF1 haha. Is that okay? It sounds like a cool spaceship or something. But thank you for the reviews and the concern for my well-being in general haha. REMUS IS BACK.

Bridget275green: Haha hello! The update is here!

WRITE ME A REVIEW PLEEEEASE!

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Chapter 51: Of the Monster at the Window

Dark rain pattered against the glass of the window. No wind blew. Despite the falling rain, the night was very still. The yellow light of the apartment felt very heavy. Rowan sat staring at the journal again. It lay open at a fresh spread of pages.

Three weeks had now passed since Remus' departure, and she'd still had no word from him. It was February 14th – Valentine's Day. The holiday had never meant much to her or to her and Remus as a couple, but with the resounding silence of his absence, she now felt lonelier than ever. As she gazed at the smooth white pages, she gave into the dark voice in the back of her mind – will I ever see him again?

Her "mission" of sorts with Barty Jr. had been, on paper, fruitless. Though they both knew what the other was, the small Muggle contraption that Frank had placed in her bag had simply documented what seemed like a tense conversation between former lovers. There was no proof of Barty Crouch's Death Eater alliances. There was no proof of Rowan's involvement with the Order. They simply just knew. All they could do was keep an eye out for him.

But after that afternoon, he'd completely disappeared with a trace.

Mad-Eye had not been pleased. When she'd returned to Headquarters with her lackluster recording, he'd grunted and groaned at the lack of evidence, and when news of Barty's disappearance had reached them a few days later, he'd screamed and raged that she should have called immediately for someone that first day – he would have found something with which to pin him. And yet, Rowan couldn't find it within herself to feel the same.

Indeed, she wasn't sure why she had such apathy towards Barty Jr. or his mysterious disappearance. The last time she'd seen him the October prior, he'd frightened her with his intensity. Her gut told her that he was the murderer within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement – she should be out there hunting him down. After all, he had most likely killed numerous Ministry captives and obstructed justice in direct opposition of his profession. He could be out there hurting more people. And yet, she couldn't find it within herself to care. A part of her whispered that he probably didn't care much anymore either.

Perhaps it was because all of her energy had been spent worrying about Remus' disappearance. Perhaps it was because she was tired of the war. But as she remembered the strange crooked smile that played on Barty's lips as he sat across from her in that quiet corner of their old café, she found all of her burning vindication lost. He had seemed just as tired as she. Perhaps they were all tired.

What was she even fighting for anymore? If Remus truly was gone, what was her motivation for continuing? Sure, she'd developed stronger bonds with her friends and allies than most could understand, and yet, those relationships paled in light of Remus' disappearance. She'd lost her father, her mentor, a mother figure, and numerous friends, and now perhaps the love of her life – all to this seemingly endless war. What was she fighting for?

As if answering her question, a silvery mass erupted from her table. Rowan yelped and leapt backward from her chair. It crashed to the floor with a shriek of wood, banging her knees as she stumbled and cursed. She thrust her wand forward reflexively but quickly dropped her arm as she saw the glowing mass solidify into a doe – Lily.

"Remus is here with us. He is safe. Please come."

And with that, the doe craned its head high and seemed to cry out silently, whispering away until nothing remained. Rowan was left standing in the silence of her yellow kitchen, gripping her wand tightly. All she could hear was the pounding of her heart within her chest.

Remus.

James answered the door. Rowan noted that he looked very relieved to see her. He pulled her in quickly, glancing around the hallway before quietly shutting the door. He then turned and sized her up, wand still out and pointing at her. Rowan looked up at him with her mouth twisted in confusion.

"You know the drill," he said gravely.

Rowan felt a pang of hurt but nodded in understanding. "I am Rowan Delacroix, your godsister and future godmother of your child. I have a scar on my elbow from falling out of the apple tree in my family's backyard when we were eight."

James nodded and lowered his wand before pulling her in firmly. He hugged her so tightly that her breath left her for a moment.

"Sorry," he apologized gruffly. Rowan nodded and hugged him back. She knew he hated these procedures just as much as she did. They were suffocating. He pulled away.

"He's in the living room with Lil. He's in poor form," he said quietly. Rowan's throat tightened momentarily, but she nodded and followed him into the apartment.

The Potters' flat was not particularly large, but somehow the 15 steps it took to reach their living room seemed like a short eternity. Her feet padded quickly against the wooden floors until they reached the bright open room. In the center stood a summoned hospital cot, and on it laid the thin form of her long-missing boyfriend.

"Remus," she gasped.

As soon as he'd seen her enter the room, he'd struggled to sit upright, holding his arms out open for her. Rowan rushed forward and all but threw herself at him. As her face hit his neck, the tears finally spilled, and she let out a small sob. Every anxiety and fear that had been eating away at her for the past three weeks seemed to break through as his warmth spilled into her. Her stomach seized as she choked back her tears. Her hands clung to his shoulders, and he held her to him like a vicegrip. They both gasped brokenly, breathing the other in with silent desperation. It felt like a lifetime had passed since she'd last seen him.

When his warmth had finally soaked into her fully, she pulled away. She brought her hands to his face. His eyes seemed too large. His sharp jawline seemed even more severe. It was covered with an uneven shadow of rough facial hair. His hair was a mess of tangles and mats, long and scraggly and unwashed. Along his temple was a deep gash. Dried blood coated his hair and crept down his cheek in rusty cakes. His bottom lip was cracked and swollen, covered in a thin film of dried blood. The skin beneath his left eye was blue and purple and puffy, swelling to the point where he could barely open his eye. Her fingers grazed it gently, lips trembling as his eyes melted with some guilt.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. His voice was a harsh rasp.

A small laugh bubbled at the back of her throat. She sputtered slightly. He smiled wryly.

"For what?"

Remus shrugged and grasped her wrists gently as her palms cradled his face. "I don't know. For worrying you, I guess."

Rowan laughed softly, humorlessly. "I'll think of something for you to do to make it up to me."

Remus smiled thinly and pressed his lips to the inside of her left wrist. The strange hair on his face tickled her skin. Her chest ached at the small gesture.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Rowan and Remus both looked up quickly to see Lily standing over them with an angry look. Remus cowered slightly under its force.

"I told you to not move! You're going to reopen all of the lacerations that I just closed up! Lie down!" she commanded angrily. Rowan cringed and turned back to Remus. His hands still held hers tightly. He gazed at her beseechingly, as if asking her to defend him. She smiled weakly and then pulled away from him slowly, rising from the bed. James pulled a seat up to the side of the bed, gesturing for Rowan to sit. She smiled gratefully at her friend.

Remus laid back down onto the bed cautiously, eyes darting between Rowan and Lily. In her hands, Lily held a sewing kit and large bowl of warm water. She placed them on the small table positioned next to the bed. As she set to work cleaning the dried blood from Remus' face, Rowan took the time to assess the damage done.

Her gaze slid down to his shoulders, over his chest. There were large, alarming blotches of red and purple and black all over his skin, ranging up from his hip to his shoulder. They reminded her of the terrible bruising that had painted her left side after the mission with the Boneses. His hands were blue and swollen. His left seemed to be broken. She noted that he lay in just his underwear, and a series of white gauzy bandages and tape decorated his chest, stomach, and arms. Even his thighs held a few shallower cuts that ran across them in angry red lines. His calves and forearms were a mess of razor thin cuts, which danced up and down his limbs. His skin was frighteningly pale in contrast to the scarlet gashes that marred his body. His muscles and tendons seemed much more defined, though at the sight of his jutting ribs, she realized that it was simply because he had lost weight. A few of them seemed to be stretching his skin at strange angles - they were clearly broken.

Rowan then looked to Lily. Her belly had begun to swell with her pregnancy. She counted out the months and noted that it had almost hit the four-month point. There were still at least five months to go, but she was well on her way. Rowan allowed a fond smile to break through as she watched her dear friend's vigilance and focus. Any child of hers would be incredibly lucky to call her its mother.

She then turned towards the soon-to-be father. Her brow furrowed as she saw James making his way around the room with his wand drawn. He was waving it slowly and muttering quiet incantations. A silvery glow seemed to coat the walls and then fade away. He was drawing protection spells.

"Remus, what happened?" she finally asked quietly. Remus looked up from watching Lily's daunting movements and met her gaze with a pained expression. Now that the blood was gone from his lip, she could see that it was a strange shade of red and purple. Lily also stopped for a moment and looked between them grimly. Remus looked back at her, and she sighed, setting back to threading another needle.

"You might as well start now. I can stitch you up while you speak," Lily said quietly. James pulled a seat up next to Rowan, finished with his protection spells.

Remus breathed deeply and closed his eyes for a moment. His lips twitched with effort as he turned over his memories in his head. When he opened them again, he stared at the ceiling for another moment in silence, flinching slightly as Lily pulled away the first bandage at his ribs. She whispered a few soft spells at the wound – Rowan recognized it as an anesthetic charm – and then set to work stitching the wound closed. Remus didn't so much as wince. He breathed deeply as Lily pulled the thread of the first stitch tight; his eyes focused on a pinpoint on the ceiling. And thus began his story.

I was in the north of Scotland, in a werewolf village called Gladaman. There's a large reservation secretly set aside by the Ministry specifically for the werewolf community. Gladaman is there. There are several tribes that occupy it, though the Gladaman are certainly the largest - about 60 people. Dumbledore sent me there to make contact with the tribe's Alpha, Ulfred, who is an old ally of his.

I spent the first day and a half simply moving through this territory. It's like Hogwarts in that it's Unplottable so that Muggles and even wizarding folk don't wander into the area, especially during the full moon. I had to Apparate onto the border of the territory before moving into it, and then it took me a full day to maneuver through the woods and snow to find the Gladaman.

The political system there is fraught with violence. The Alpha is generally one of the oldest men and always the strongest. Anyone can challenge the Alpha's leadership through combat, and if the Alpha should fall, the challenger will take his place. Luckily, Ulfred was a reasonable man and a well-respected leader. He reminded me a bit of Fabian, actually. He welcomed me into the tribe as his guest; called me "Brother." I felt very fortunate to have him on my side.

Every week, there is a meeting held by the tribesmen to discuss the affairs of the community. They usually discuss mundane things like food supply and inter-tribe affairs, but during that first night, Ulfred allowed me to speak. I told them about the werewolves that had joined the Death Eaters – how they've been biting children and attacking even untransformed just for the sake of infecting others. I warned them that they would probably come to seek them out, to try to recruit them into their ranks and begged them not to follow.

Most of the tribesmen seemed horrified at the notion of werewolves intentionally biting anyone, let alone children. At first, it almost seemed like my mission had been pointless. But there was this one group… They didn't agree.

There were about four of them, led by a man named Ajax. Ajax… He was frightening. He was twice my size – more like a lion than a werewolf. He accused me in front of the whole tribe of trying to bribe them into submission. I tried to make my case, but eventually, Ulfred had to step in and end the conversation before it ended violently. We decided to continue the discussion the following night.

But the next day, a terrible group of men appeared in the village – just the men I'd warned them about.

There were three of them, each a seasoned werewolf. I knew immediately upon seeing them that they didn't belong in the village. And I recognized the trio's leader as Fenrir Greyback.

Greyback was… He was the one who bit me when I was a child, though that's another story. Greyback was the one who started the Death Eater recruitment of werewolves. He's a terrible, evil man – truly the most frightening man I've ever met.

Greyback appeared on my third day in the village. He immediately let his presence be known there, challenging not only Ulfred, but also anyone who spoke out against him. It was clear that he had come to recruit more werewolves for Voldemort's forces.

I obviously had to do something, but these men were so much stronger, so much more vicious. I was at a complete loss. I tried my hardest to at least convince the tribe to turn them away, but they offered much more than I could.

Ajax and his men were immediately swayed by them. Regardless of how false their promises, they were able to offer things that only another werewolf could understand – power, glory, revenge… They were able to speak to all the wrongs and injustices these men had suffered throughout the years for their conditions. There was no way I could argue against that. How could I? There are times when I want the very same.

Over the next few days, they gradually took over the village. Ulfred and a few of his loyal men stayed vigilant against them with me, but it wasn't any use. They outnumbered us at least five to one, and I'm no warrior. I couldn't stand beside these men and fight. Ulfred tried to convince me to leave, but I couldn't just abandon them either. I had no idea what to do.

And I couldn't contact you, Rowan. I didn't know what would happen, if I would be killed or taken. I tore out the pages of our journal as you wrote and burned them in case they were found. I couldn't risk them tracing it back to you. I wanted to write back. I wanted to tell you that I was still safe, but I couldn't risk it. I'm so sorry.

Then, after a week and a half, the worst happened.

I woke up in the middle of the night to hear screaming and clashes. When I came out of my hut, Ajax and Ulfred were fighting, surrounded by a crowd of half-cheering, half-horrified tribe members.

They didn't have wands. None of them did. It became clear to me there just how fortunate I am to be able to perform magic, let alone to have attended Hogwarts. No, these men were warriors in every sense – savage, almost. They fight with teeth and claws and spears and knives. It's terrifying.

Ajax had taken a bad blow to the face by the time I came out. His left eye was bleeding severely, and he was staggering. It was clear why Ulfred was the Alpha. Ajax was the larger man, but there was a certain finesse to the way Ulfred fought. He wasn't a small man by any means, but one could tell how much experience he had. He could read every movement and step from Ajax with an almost eerie ease. Each blow was parried and blocked and retaliated with such an incredible fluidity. I'd never seen anything like it.

But then one of Greyback's men appeared – I think his name was Antenor. He crept up behind Ulfred as he was backing Ajax into a corner. When I saw him, it was like all the air in my lungs had been sucked away. I tried to scream at him – to warn him. I'd pulled out my wand to stun Antenor, but by the time either of us was able to defend him, he had already stabbed Ulfred in the calf. And then it was too late.

Ajax took the momentary distraction to kick dirt into Ulfred's face. I was able to stun Antenor, but I couldn't save Ulfred from Ajax's next attack.

His head hit the ground almost at the same time Antenor did.

The rest was chaos. By the laws of the tribe, Ajax was the new Alpha, regardless of how dishonorable his victory had been. And with his victory came Death Eater control over the tribe.

But not only was I in grave danger for being a representative of the Order, I had also committed one of the greatest taboos – I had performed magic against a fellow werewolf. Violence against a Brother through physical combat is one thing, but to commit magic against another was one of the greatest crimes of the tribe. These men had turned their backs on the wizarding world, and one of the pledges that came with this freedom was freedom from magic. I knew I'd be killed if I stayed any longer.

Ulfred's daughter Cassandra helped me escape during the chaos that night by smuggling me through the village in a bale of hay. I was able to perform a series of Disillusionment charms on myself while making my way out of the village, but I couldn't convince her to come with me. I don't know what happened to her after that.

I spent the next week moving quickly through the rest of the werewolf territories to the other three tribes, warning them of what happened in Gladaman. I convinced some to go into hiding, but there were just as many others who wanted nothing to do with me. I wasn't one of them, even from the start. I don't look anything like them. I don't speak anything like them. I can't fight or defend myself against these kinds of men. If I'd had Ulfred's word of support, I would have been given at least a platform to speak. Without him, there was barely anything I could do.

I didn't stay in one place for too long. I had no idea if Greyback and his men would come after me, and I didn't want these people to bear their wrath for harboring me. They knew who I was, and they knew I was in the Order. It made sense that they would come looking, and I was terrified of what they'd do if they found me.

In a week, I had managed to travel to all three other tribes and state my case. But while preparing to leave the last and make my way for the border of the territories, Greyback caught up to me.

He'd demanded that I surrender to him and his men at the threat of razing the village. Obviously the tribe wanted nothing to do with me after that, and I made no resistance. I gave myself up to them willingly. They took my wand and the knives Cassandra had armed me with as she'd helped me escape.

After beating and questioning me, the three spent the night in the small village. I spent the first few hours unconscious and tied up on the cold floor of the hut that they shared. They ended up drinking well into the night with the tribe's Alpha and didn't fall into bed until it was near dawn.

When I woke up from my stupor, I slowly began cutting my way through the ropes that bound me with a dull stone I'd found. Well, I guess it wasn't cutting, so much as just grinding away at the fibers. It took me hours – I don't know how long exactly, but it was well into the night and close to morning by the time I was done. Finally, I was able to unbind my wrists and ankles. They'd left me with only my blank journal, taking all of my belongings and even going so far as to snap my wand in half. I was completely defenseless.

I waited until the three returned at dawn. They were all quite drunk when they stumbled in. I pretended to be asleep and kept my arms and wrists together as if they were still bound, and they were luckily too drunk to realize any better. Once they'd fallen asleep, I made my way out the hut and ran out of the village.

I ran for as long as I could, headed south. I no longer had my map, so I couldn't be sure how far the border of the Unplottable territories was. All I had was my memory, which told me that I had at least two days – more likely three – until I reached a point from which I could Disapparate, and I knew that it wouldn't be long until Greyback and his men realized I was gone.

So I ran. By the end of the first day, I knew Greyback would be on my tail. I ended up seeking refuge in a forest that night, climbing up into a high tree to maintain a vantage point. I slept very little, and by the time dawn broke again, I was too wired to keep sleeping. So I continued onward.

"That was two days ago," Remus concluded quietly. "And here I am now."

Lily had ceased her stitching long ago, choosing simply to sit by him and listen to his story. The four sat in silence for a long stretch of time. Rowan had moved forward during his tale to clutch his good hand tightly, and he'd squeezed her hand back, almost painfully.

Finally, James broke the silence. "What will you do now?" he asked.

Remus shook his head slowly but kept his gaze up at the ceiling. "I have to report to Dumbledore," he said quietly, "but I couldn't keep moving. I just…" he trailed off. Rowan saw the pure exhaustion in his red eyes, in the sallow color of his skin. "I needed to rest."

James nodded. "That can wait till morning. Stay here the night," he said firmly.

Remus tiredly shook his head again. "No, I have to tell him tonight. I've been gone much longer than was planned already. And if Greyback followed me to London, he could track me here. I have to-"

"You're going to sit here and let me stitch you up – that's what you have to do," Lily commanded. She raised her wand again and set back to work on the next wound, whispering a few anesthetic charms over it. Remus shivered slightly as the chill of the spell settled into his skin but didn't dare move any further. Lily with a needle and wand was a surprisingly intimidating image.

"One more night won't change anything, and there's no way Greyback will find you here," James said, nodding in agreement with his wife's insistence. He paused to think for a moment. "I'll go now and give Dumbledore the general summary of what happened, and you can report to him in the morning. How does that sound?"

Remus looked up at James grimly. The tendon in his jaw twitched with effort, and Rowan could see the muscles in his stomach clench with some pain as Lily pierced through his skin with another stitch. Finally, he nodded.

"Okay," he acquiesced. "Thanks, mate."

James simply nodded and turned. He murmured a quiet goodbye to Lily, who simply nodded vaguely but remained focused on her work. James disappeared from the living room and was followed with a quiet thud of the front door. He was gone.

The remaining three continued to sit in silence. Rowan still held Remus' hand, eyes trailing over his long legs. They looked as if he had walked through a sea of broken glass. How much had it hurt him to tell them that story? How much had he left out for their sake – for his? Her lungs seemed to be up in her throat.

Finally, with a flourish of thread and a flick of her wand, Lily was finished. She looked over her work once more with a solemn nod of approval before raising her wand over his arms and legs, muttering an icy green spell. Miraculously, all the tiny nicks and cuts that painted his limbs slowly closed up and disappeared. Though his skin was still marred with daunting bruises and thin white lines, not a single cut remained. Rowan was in awe of her friend's incredible skill.

"The smaller cuts on your arms and legs seemed to have healed up as expected. Those scars will fade in the next few weeks. But these other cuts," she said gravely, gesturing to the deeper gashes along his abdomen and thighs, "these won't heal the same. I can close them up, but they will scar. There's no dittany blend or spell that will remove magical wounds like these."

Remus simply nodded and smiled. "It's okay. Just another few to add to my collection," he said gently. "Thank you, Lil." His eyes melted with deep affection. Lily smiled back.

"Anything for you," she said sincerely. She then turned to Rowan. "You should spend the night here too. I imagine you have a lot to catch up on."

Rowan's mouth twisted with concern. "But he's wounded. I don't know if that's-" she started.

"Oh, he's fine. Those stitches are damn good, if I do say so myself," the redhead said cheekily. "Just don't do anything pervy, and he should be fine."

Rowan glared and blew a raspberry at her friend who simply laughed and sauntered into the kitchen with the now bloody bowl of water and her sewing kit. Rowan watched her go with her chest tight with gratitude. She couldn't imagine her life without that admirable woman.

She then turned back to Remus. He was looking up at her with a gentle, almost shy smile, which she returned quietly. He moved over a bit in the bed to make room for her. She slipped off her socks and then slid in next to him, maneuvering carefully to avoid applying pressure to any of his wounds, but he pulled her tightly against his chest anyway, wrapping a long arm around her shoulders. She smiled into his skin. He was home.

Lily's head appeared in the doorway one more time. "Lights out?" she asked brightly. Rowan nodded and smiled.

"Thank you, Lily," she said genuinely. She hoped Lily knew how grateful she was.

The redhead simply smiled and nodded before hitting the light switch. A comfortable darkness fell over the room, and Lily could be heard padding down the hallway quietly, followed by the soft sound of her bedroom door shutting. Rowan sighed into Remus' bare chest.

The two laid in silence again for a few moments, simply allowing the presence of the other to wash over them. Three weeks – it was barely a drop in the ocean of their time together, and yet, it had felt like a lifetime of loneliness. How could she bear to have him leave again? Would Dumbledore ever make him go on another one of these missions? Could she let him?

"I missed you," he whispered. His voice seemed to bounce through the darkness. She allowed herself to squeeze him just a little tighter.

"I missed you," she replied, "more than I can say."

The silence washed over them again. She wondered how he could still be awake after such an ordeal. Despite his story, she couldn't imagine how terrifying the past three weeks had been for him. He'd been totally alone out there, almost sure that he wouldn't come back alive. What if he hadn't escaped? She felt her eyes burn at the implications.

"Greyback – he's still out there," he whispered.

Rowan nodded gravely but didn't reply. Fenrir Greyback – the man who had infected Remus when he was just a small child. She couldn't imagine how terrible of a figure this man could be. Her mind was filled with images of snarling teeth and gnarled hands and scars. He loomed in her mind as a large, hulking presence. He remained faceless and yet more frightening than Lord Voldemort had ever seemed. She forced back the tremor of fear that threatened to shake up her spine.

"He was the one… I was four," Remus said quietly.

Rowan froze. Was he finally going to tell her?

"Remus, you don't have to-"

"No," he interrupted. "No, I want to tell you… I need to."

Rowan let his words slide over her slowly, and then she nodded into his chest. Her heart felt as if it might burst.

Remus breathed deeply before beginning his second story of the night. His voice was a low, quiet rumble. It was raspy from the icy wind of the northern territories. It whispered of a different lifetime.

"Back then, Greyback was already an infamous werewolf, though his name was still unknown. There had been a rising number of children being attacked and infected by werewolves, presumably on purpose. Unfortunately, the Werewolf Registry back then was very inefficient. Most werewolves weren't recorded by the Ministry, so faces and names weren't necessarily matched with deeds and reputations.

"Greyback was, somehow, arrested and brought into the Ministry for questioning, but he managed to convince them that he was a homeless Muggle man. Because he was so filthy and lacked a wand, most of the Ministry officials believed him – all except my father.

"My father tried to convince the others to hold him overnight to ensure that Greyback wasn't, in fact, a werewolf. Being in the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures, he saw all the signs of lycanthropy in Greyback, but he wasn't able to convince the rest of his colleagues. They ended up letting him go.

"But before they released him, my father insulted Greyback."

Remus took a deep breath, eyes glued to the ceiling. His grip remained tight on Rowan. Her breath seemed to come short.

"My father told him that werewolves were 'soulless and evil and deserving nothing but death.'"

Remus paused, and Rowan could feel a slight tremble simmer in his chest. Rowan's stomach clenched painfully. She heard the words leave Remus' mouth almost numbly, but they still dug into her with such force that her lungs seemed to collapse. She imagined kind, serious Lyall Lupin with his quiet demeanor. She couldn't picture such horrible words coming from such a good man.

Don't think too poorly of me.

His words from November suddenly echoed back from deep within her mind, and heat surged up her neck and into her eyes. How much guilt he must carry with him! She gripped Remus even tighter.

"Obviously, this didn't sit well with Greyback, and it would come back to punish him later. Letting him go is my father's greatest regret.

"Shortly before my fifth birthday, Greyback found my family," he continued. His voice trembled slightly, and Rowan knew how this part ended with deep dread. "In fact, it was almost 16 years ago to this day – exactly a week from now," he said with a bitter smile. He paused again and took a deep shaking breath. Rowan's lips trembled.

"My parents found me screaming in bed with him on top of me. He wasn't transformed, but the damage done was enough. By the time my father was able to drive him away, I was already infected."

Rowan's tears began to fall. They seeped down her cheeks and onto his chest. She made no move to wipe them away, and Remus made no indication that he even felt them. They just held each other closer.

"And now, he's…" Remus started quietly. Rowan felt his chest tremble again, and her own tightened painfully in response.

"I'm terrified, Winnie," he whispered. "He's so much stronger than I am. And he's not just a werewolf – he can perform magic. He's terrifyingly strong." His voice shook with fear. "And he remembered! He remembers who I am! And now he has my face to go along with the name." His right hand left her and reached up to his face. He was crying.

"I can't face him again. I can't do it. How am I supposed to fight someone like that? He'll tear me apart!"

Rowan's face burned with shame. For three weeks, he'd been out in the wilderness facing the one man he feared the most. How could Dumbledore have sent him out there alone, knowing that men like Greyback loomed in the shadows? How could she protect him?

She struggled upward blindly. He looked up at her with confusion, his hand pulling from his face slowly. She leaned over him so that she could see him fully. She felt all the heat in her face burn.

His eyes were red and swollen and so tired. They glowed dully in the faint yellow light that spilled in from the hall. The rough shadow of hair that covered his face seemed to age him in an entirely new way. The new gashes that danced over his sides weren't likely to ever heal completely. She gave a silent promise to improve her dittany blend – if she had any say in it, he wouldn't have to add to his collection of scars ever again.

"You will face him again," she whispered fiercely. His eyes melted with fear at her words. The unadulterated horror there sent a wave of grief through her, but she pushed onward. "You will, but next time, I'll be there beside you. We all will." Her voice trembled, as did the line of his mouth, and her tears fell onto his cheeks. She couldn't be sure which were his or hers anymore. "We'll be there to fight with you next time. I promise. You'll never have to face anything like this alone again."

She choked back a sob as her eyes burned into his. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. He reached up and pulled her face down. She pressed her mouth against his, both trembling against the other. She wanted to cry with joy and despair and anger and fear. What were they fighting for?

"I love you," she whispered fervently against his lips. "And I will be your greatest defender, no matter what enemies we face. I promise."

He nodded jerkily and held her against him tightly. She wanted her existence and his to blur together seamlessly. The separation of his form from hers was somehow painful. And as he kissed her again, the stillness of the rain was interrupted with the bright flash of lightning. The sound of thunder rumbled quietly in the distance.