Chapter 88: Vis Major*

15 May 1980

Great Hall, Castle MacTire

They started the day with breakfast in the great hall. It was a public affair and Remus and Hermione couldn't tell if it was usual or if everyone had showed up just to get a look at them. The girl from the night before, Maeve (or Eira as she'd announced her soul name to be) sat near the head of the table and still captured attention, people approaching to congratulate her throughout the meal. But it was the English newcomers who held the stares and whispers. Despite Hermione and Remus claiming seats at the end of the hall, eyes from all around found them.

Hermione felt trapped and pinned, as if each gaze caught on her carried heat. She tried to settle into Pup, tried to get a feel for the dynamics around her, but it was no use. All she could feel beside the nervous wreck of Remus at her side was Lachlann. Seated at the head of the table, he dominated the space. By the way all the others gave him palpable respect, it was clear to Hermione he was not only chief but the lead Alpha of this pack. The draw to him was so strong Hermione watched as every person at the table seemed to react like ripples in a pond to his movements.

Remus shifted beside her, every muscle tensed. He leaned toward Hermione like she was pulling him down, but his eyes kept darting up the table to their host. Remus seemed almost oblivious to the eyes watching him, just solely focused on Hermione and the chief of this clan. Hermione blinked beside him, pulling her own focus from the trio of young men down the table openly staring back at her. She wrapped her hands around Remus' arm. He looked over at her and smiled distractedly before his eyes darted back to Lachlann.

Remus wanted to talk to him, obviously. Hermione almost rolled her eyes. He still wanted to follow through with Dumbledore's plan, as if there was a chance of this clan leaving their lands to fight alongside the Order. But this wasn't a roving pack. This was a long-settled clan with history and traditions. Hermione knew they wouldn't be swayed by the plights of wizards who didn't even know they existed. Remus shifted beside her.

"Are you okay?" His brows were furrowed in worry.

"I'm fine, Remus." She blinked at him. "Are-are you okay?"

"Yeah, no, fine." His eyes darted about again.

"Did you want to go talk to Lachlann?" She tried to follow his gaze as if it would tell her what he was thinking.

"Should do, yeah." He looked at her again and then back down the table, this time stopping on the young men watching Hermione. His jaw clenched hard, almost popping in its socket.

"Well, you may want to catch him before he leaves the hall."

Remus closed his eyes. "Can't move, Pup."

"What? Why not?"

His jaw ticked. "Moony doesn't want me to leave your side."

She nodded in understanding and started to slowly pet at his arm. "It's okay. I get it, lots of new wolves." She looked around them, spotting an older man with kind eyes. "Excuse me?" The man looked up from his morning meal. Hermione smiled. "Hi, er, could you tell me about the grounds here? Outside the castle?"

"Lookin' to set down roots already?" His voice was light and though his words were presumptuous, his eyes didn't carry the same unfiltered focus as some of the others in the hall.

"Curious about the clan is all."

"Well, the keep is the main attraction, I'd say, though I suppose ye've seen a bit of her already." He gestured around the hall.

"Do you all stay here as well?"

"Gods no," he laughed. "All a'top each other, could you imagine? No, some do. Lachlann's family o'course and some of the Council, but I like my little home just as well." He pointed toward the big doors at the end of the hall. "There's plenty of land past those doors. Most of the clann lives out there, but the kindred span farther than ye'd guess." He winked.

"Oh," Hermione craned her neck as if she could see beyond the walls. "From the way we arrived, it didn't look like there was anything beyond the castle."

"Aye, well, that'll be the magic o'course, brings in the fog to hide us away. But it's a beautiful day out there, lassie. People'll be out and about. Plenty to see and do if yer lookin' to explore."

"I think I'll do just that." Hermione felt welcomed for the first time since they'd arrived. "And your name, sorry?"

"Arran Tate, at yer service."

"Pleasure to meet you, Arran." Her smile was genuine. "Is that your anem ana—er, anam—"

"Ainm anama?" He was patient with her, a light upward tick to his lip. "No, lassie, I ne'er took the Bite. Arran is me only name."

She nodded, tucking the information away. "Do people tend to go by their ainm anama?" She spoke slowly to not trip over the unfamiliar words. "Or do they keep their old name?"

Arran tutted, pursed his lips and thought for a moment. "It's not so much an old or a new name, is it. They're one 'n the same. Tends to be people like the sound of one o'er the other, but they mean the same thing. A name's really just a way to shorthand who you are inside."

Hermione smiled. "So, personal preference?"

He nodded, shrugging. "Aye, in a way."

"Well, thank you, Arran." She nodded back. He turned from her then, sensing their conversation had closed, and she was able to look back at Remus.

"You go talk to Lachlann," she murmured as she focused back on bringing him calm. "I think you may be able to focus a bit more if I'm not clinging to your side. I'll get out of your way, okay? See what all I can find out beyond the walls, try to get a handle on this pack's dynamic, yeah?"

Remus' eyes were still darting about but Hermione's words and touch had him more settled. He nodded, patting a hand atop hers. Hermione stood from her seat, bending to kiss him lightly on the cheek, letting her touch linger to keep feeding him any sense of peace she could lend. The second she left his side, his gaze followed her until she was out of sight. Remus was only too aware of the others in the room doing the same.

Outer Grounds, Castle MacTire

After heading straight to the back of the castle following Arran's direction, Hermione's heart lifted at the sight of the grounds, sprawling fields of vibrant green with little homes that dotted the hills. She knew there were plenty of rooms within the castle proper but it seemed plenty of people lived out on their own as well. She didn't have a plan of what to do or where to go; she just wanted to get away from the castle after all. Looking around her, she just started to walk.

She was curious about the pack dynamics, true, but Hermione was over Dumbledore's mission. In truth, she'd been over it from the start, but she missed her home, her people, her life. Though each new werewolf they met taught her something new, she was ready for this time to be over. The futility of their mission drained all excitement from the pursuit of knowledge. Hermione ducked behind a group of trees, following a worn path toward the sounds of water.

She kept walking, lost in her thoughts until she came across a little stream with a big willow shielding the water from the sky. It stood in stark contrast to the Whomping Willow at Hogwarts. This one loomed gentle and inviting, all at once making Hermione feel safe. She took a breath and sat, eyes closed as the sun found its way through to brush against her cheeks. Hermione let herself fall against the grass, her mind wandering in a half woken sort of way. In a breath, she released the tension she'd been carrying for weeks. The grass beneath her was slightly wet but the earth was warm. The air carried a sort of music of distant voices, chirping birds, the running of the little stream and the wind filtering through the leaves of the willow like the most delicate windchime. Hermione could have cried. Nights alone had nothing on moments of solitude under the hazy sun. Here she could let her thoughts wander freely without the trappings of fatigue-driven anxiety. Hermione smiled to herself and thought of nothing.

But the peace didn't last for long. Voices broke through the morning air, alarming to Hermione in their unfamiliarity. She took a moment to remember where she was, coming back to herself and the little creek. The voices were too far for her to discern what they were saying, but they were getting closer. Hermione rose to her feet. Whoever was coming, she had a feeling she didn't want to meet them. She looked around, hoping for a place to hide.

"Come, come, little one. You have nothing to fear from me."

Hermione whirled around to see a tiny little old woman moving swiftly to her side. Hunched over as she was, the woman barely made it up to Hermione's elbows. Her arms were outstretched before her, her hands grabbing at the air before Hermione.

"Come, come." She nodded toward the voices. "We can stay some place quiet."

Hermione looked down at the little woman, an unbidden giggle rising in her chest. She held out her hand and the woman immediately latched on, pulling her toward the willow. Closer to the tree, Hermione could now see a small hut built into its side, camouflaged to look as if it were an extension of the tree itself. Hermione paused in her steps to look behind her but soon the woman was pulling her to a door, pushing her inside before darting her head about to see if anyone had followed. The door thunked solidly closed behind them.

With Hermione securely inside, the little old woman immediately set to prepping tea, lugging a tea pot to hang over a steady fire.

"Sit, sit," she muttered almost off-handedly to Hermione. "No use standing in the way. Grab a chair, sit, sit."

Hermione obediently sat and watched the woman work in silence. The hut was small, but Hermione could see other doors leading off from the room. The air felt fuzzy with magic and she was sure this woman had plenty of space within. It felt a bit like Hagrid's hut to be honest, all cozy and warm and overstuffed. The entire room was filled with mismatched furniture, handmade blankets and pillows. There were little figurines everywhere, made of what looked like the bones and skulls of small birds. Ribbons and twigs and metalwork pieces hung from the low rafters. There were potion materials strewn about, half-made concoctions and cauldrons with unknown creations sludged at the bottom. A steaming cup of tea placed before her broke Hermione from her study.

"Now." The woman took to a chair, clasping bony hands together as her eyes passed over Hermione in assessment. "You're Hermione, of course, yes?" Her voice was just what Hermione would expect from a fairy tale grandmother.

"Yes, I am."

"You can call me Sorrel. I am the Elder of this clann."

"Oh." Hermione set down the tea cup she'd been holding in surprise.

"Technically one of a few, but between you and me, I'm the eldest so I think the Elder suits me just fine." She smiled as she spoke, a bit of a cheeky lilt to her tone, but it was all said in a matter of fact way that offered little room for discussion. Hermione smiled. Sorrel picked up her teacup, took a sip and looked at Hermione with sparkling eyes. "Now, you have questions. I have answers. Ask away."

Hermione paused for just a moment, taking in Sorrel and the hut and the tea, but the Elder was right. She had many, many questions.

"What was the ceremony last night? The Claiming?"

"Right to the thick of it then." Sorrel blinked her large eyes at Hermione, silence filling the space. She smiled sweetly even as Hermione started to fidget, as if she was waiting for something. Sorrel didn't speak until suddenly, after a nod to herself, she began.

"To know our ways, you must know our history. This clann has been around for a long, long time, little one, longer than you're thinking even. It has seen many a ceannard cinnidh. There was, o'course, times of internal struggle and fighting, a time when we were split in two even and times when the clann almost fell apart. People have always fought for power, but this was something new. The wolf was something new."

Hermione shuddered as a chill passed through her.

"The danger, the threat to the clann, came down to the wolf. There's the pack mentality built into the fabric of its being, so strong few can fight against it. With the Bite, you receive the wolf but also the ceangal, the bond. It transcends any bond made by words or oaths."

"The connection to the person who bit you, the-the Alpha?"

Sorrel winced a bit. "Clumsy words, but in a way. It's more than just the connection to the one who passed you the legacy. It's the connection to the wolf within. It's a bit of self o'course, but you and I know it's more than just that. It's an extension, yes? The bond between man and wolf is not easily challenged. Not because of man, but because of the will of the wolf. You know this."

"Yes," Hermione breathed out the word.

"Yes." Sorrel nodded. "The wolf's will is strong indeed. Fiercely loyal. Demanding. But giving, too. A wolf will ne'er forget those who wrong it or do right by it. And the one who helped bring the wolf into bein'? The giver of the Bite? Aye, the wolf honors that connection." Sorrel stopped to take another sip of tea. She paused in the silence again before pushing on with the story. "In the beginning of this clann, we celebrated the Bite as we do now, but only the Bite. A child would make their choice once they came of age and take the Bite under the moon. But a clann is only as strong as its fealty and that, the bond to your people, needs to be your strongest bond."

Hermione began to see where this story led, but it didn't seem possible.

"They shared blood. Lachlann and Maeve," she spoke in a whisper, unsure if she was just surprised or a touch repelled. "He was claiming Maeve as his own. Does—The Claiming overrides the original bite. He's her Alpha now."

Sorrel pursed her lips and shook her head. "You know when I first saw you, you struck me as someone who knew more about who we are. All this talk of Alpha this, Alpha that. Little one, what have they taught you?"

Hermione softened. Sorrel reached out to pat her hand, a touch too hard as if to scold.

"It was not Lachlann claiming Maeve. The words, dear, the words. I pledge my loyalty to the clan. I claim what is theirs as mine. Maeve claimed us. It was her choice, her words, her action." Sorrel seemed to sit up straighter, a strength entering her voice. "She bound herself to the clann through Lachlann. He may hold the bonds as our chief, but we bind ourselves to the clann."

"Everyone is bound to Lachlann?"

"Through Lachlann." Sorrel smiled then. "Every member recognizes Lachlann as chief of Clan MacTire. With the Claiming, every wolf does as well."

Hermione sat back, her thoughts immediately going to Remus. No wonder he'd been on edge from the moment they'd stepped foot into Castle MacTire. Remus was an Alpha of one intruding on the territory of an Alpha of many.

The Cabinet, Castle MacTire

Remus somehow found himself in an all together new room of the castle, surrounded by what he assumed were members of the Council or at least men and women Lachlann held in high regard. He kept to the side of the room, watching and listening to matters at hand that concerned the clan. At least that's how he appeared. Remus kept a hand on the stone wall behind him, desperately trying to ground himself in his body as Moony pulled him into his own mind.

If Remus had known, he would have focused on the talk around him, listened to their problems, their concerns, their solutions. He would have watched Lachlann as a man and leader, looked around the room at the maps and designations and arrangement of his advisors. He would have noticed the reactions of the others for what they meant, how they bristled at his approach, their eyes darting to their chief, their lips curling back in silent snarls. But of course, Remus did not know and could not even think to look.

Moony paced in deep circles in his mind, outnumbered and unarmed, he knew Remus was on the backfoot. He wanted to pull Remus in, make him see reason. As strong as he thought he was, Moony couldn't take on this other wolf, not with a pack this size behind him. They needed to retreat, to leave, to return to the land Moony could control. In a whisper that Remus couldn't understand but left an icy trail in its wake, Moony couldn't help but wonder if they should add to their own pack.

"Hear that, cù sassunnach?" An elbow found its way to Remus' gut. "A right trading of places."

"What?" Remus blinked, the room taking shape around him again. The man beside him rolled his eyes. Remus blinked over and over, trying to refocus his eyes on the grand table they stood around.

A map on yellowed parchment stretched across the weathered wood top, the inking of trees and rivers floating off the page. Remus blinked again and leaned forward. The river was moving. He looked up at the others before taking his time finally to consider the charted land. Lachlann laid a hand on the table and the mapped drawing moved with his touch. He shifted it back into place. It showed a bit of the south of Scotland, the border, and into the north of England.

"Last we heard some Muggle suits were looking into taking over parts of Whinfell." Lachlann moved his hand and the maps adjusted, zooming into the southern edge of the map.

New markings popped up and disappeared as the map moved, until it settled on an area of woodland. Remus couldn't tell just where the map had landed until a small banner unfurled atop the trees reading Whinfell Forest. There were sketchings of pathways, of denser areas of trees and little clearings, but the only other words to appear were two smaller banners. The Hart-Horn Tree and the Three Brothers Tree.

Lachlann moved his hands to frame the edge of the forest, his thumb rippling through the Hart-Horn Tree. "Delaney and her pack don't expect a significant increase in Muggle presence. They've had plenty of experience thwarting plans to take over the forest in the past, but they're struggling to get a solid lead of influence into the newest group to target their land. For now, nothing to do but keep an eye on it. Delaney's said it's the least of their current worries. But even so, we'll be sending Liam to visit in the coming months."

Remus looked at the young man—Liam presumably—who'd elbowed him earlier. He puffed out his chest in pride, earning several pats on the back from his fellows.

"Now," Lachlann clapped his hands and started to roll away the map. Remus frowned as it disappeared having been the only thing to pull his focus from the tight feeling in his chest. His face heated with the weight of varies gazes and he looked up to see the entire room staring at him.

"Sorry?"

Lachlann chuckled. "What news, Remus? We've had little word from England of late, only an owl or two in as many months." He picked up and waved what Remus guessed had held news from this Delaney. "What news do you have of the English wolves?"

"Oh." Remus cursed himself for blushing. "Well, we've just come from visiting John and Redmond, who you already know." Remus looked around the room. Lachlann nodded for him to continue but something in Remus hesitated. All these eyes, these stares—hungry—no, he would wait for a moment alone with the Chief. "And they're good, er, nothing to note, yet."

Someone snickered behind him.

Remus felt a small surge of pride as he resisted turning, keeping his eyes on Lachlann. "And we met a mother and son, relatively new werewolves, who seemed to be doing quite well—"

"In John's pack?"

"No. They were on their own with the father."

Lachlann regarded him for a moment as if seeing the differences between them for the first time. "Has that become the English way? Foregoing the strength of a clann for a smaller pack?"

Remus' lip curled, his mind unconsciously searching out for Hermione. "There are some packs we haven't met. This pack in Whinfell for one, we didn't know about them, but yes, I think a fair few try to survive on their own."

"And Hermione?" A young man with a rush of red hair and sunkissed skin smirked.

Remus turned, his shoulders squaring immediately. "What about Hermione?"

"You can't think she'd want to stay with such a tiny—" He winked at his friends before huffing out a laugh. "—pack, if you can even call it a pack, cù tighe."

Pack.

Remus' wand arm twitched.

"Or is that yer plan? Isolate the poor lass so she doesn't know what else is out there?" The young man lifted his chin and blatantly flexed his muscles as he crossed his arms over his chest. His next words fell from his lips slick with innuendo and oil. "Think she'll really leave with you after seeing what all we can offer?"

"Stop."

Remus was a hair's breath from vaulting himself across the table to throttle the fool who dared to threaten his pack. Moony had already plotted the fasted way to bleed him dry. But it was Lachlann who spoke and stilled the room. At his word, they all fell silent and a chill slipped through Remus' spine. He couldn't feel the effect of the Chief's voice—that tone—but he could sense the power there, the obedience it commanded. His mind fell back to Hermione's words in the clearing. He'd made her stop, just as Lachlann had the wolves in this room. Remus grit his teeth, pulled his hands back from where they gripped white-knuckled at the table, and turned to Lachlann.

The chief of this clan had a hand out toward the wayward wolf who had spoken but his eyes were fixed on Remus. Remus blinked, realizing Lachlann had poised himself not to stop this young pup from advancing on Remus, but to push him behind to protect him.

"We're adjourned for the day." Lachlann passed one more heavy look over Remus before turning his back and facing the rest of the room, in that moment granting a boon of trust. "Go run out your energy on something useful. Go on."

Remus' jaw cramped as the last of Lachlann's council disappeared beyond to oak doors. He didn't move, but Lachlann fell once more to sprawl across the chair at the head of the table. He smiled in a sad sort of way and shook his head before motioning for Remus to join him.

"It's not my place to ask for forgiveness on behalf of one who likely never will, but I'll ask it anyway." He looked off at the door that led back to the depths of the castle. "He's still young, Cameron, but he'll learn. It's why I try to send them out when I can, even the ones who don't want to leave the nest. Seein' the ways o'the world around us, how other wolves live. Other packs, even the wee ones. It's important." He laughed. "'Course you understand though. That's just what you and the little lassie are off doin'."

Remus had already sat but his breaths still came in short puffs, his chest heaving.

"What I'm sayin' is yer new blood, new blood and not of our own either, no. It's got the wild ones in a bit of a frenzy I'm afraid. They're new to the bond themselves so they don't fully understand. They're trying to test how deep your connected to her."

Remus choked on an inhale. "We're not—"

Lachlann laughed. "Wouldn't matter if you were. It's not for them to question. But they will." He leaned over the table, looming in the sort of way that sobered Remus but his eyes stayed kind. "You've claimed each other, but you haven't claimed this clann. For as much as they don't yet know, they can tell that much at least. They can feel it, but can't name it. And therefore they don't respect it. And I don't make a habit of drawing on the ceangal like that. I likely won't do again."

Remus was trying not to feel small. Moony huffed, one part respect and one part rebellion. He wasn't a danger at the moment though, with the way Remus had shackled him, rebellion would always be a facet to everything he did.

"You'll be welcome here as long as you'd like, Remus." Lachlann stood and made his way to the door. He pulled it open in wait for Remus, beginning his dismissal. "I offered you the hospitality of our clann, but you accepted it with the risk of continuing on unclaimed by us."

Remus nodded, not entirely sure as to what he was agreeing with. But something in him knew. He and Hermione were pack. They fit together but they didn't fit here. As long as they trespassed on MacTire land, there would be wolves like Cameron trying to test their bonds. Remus walked from the cabinet with steps so sure they surprised him. He wasn't nervous or shaken or frankly threatened in the slightest. Whatever bound himself and Hermione together—Merlin, he could laugh—whatever connected him and Pup, Remus knew in the most vulnerable corners of his heart, no one could sever.

Castle MacTire

The second night at Castle MacTire, Remus did not sleep. When the itch under his skin became too much, he pulled himself out of bed, stepping silent as the grave out of his chambers. He looked out into the darkness of the hall toward Hermione's room, his ears straining for something he couldn't name. Shaking himself off, he returned to his room, but Remus Lupin did not sleep.

16 May 1980

Castle MacTire

From the moment he sat down for breakfast and saw Cameron's eyes, among others, fixed on Hermione, Remus knew he wouldn't leave her side that day. Through the morning he let her lead him around the grounds she'd explored, stopping by the stream and Sorrel's hut. Hermione hadn't wanted to stay long with the elder werewolf, but Remus didn't mind. Blood rushed in a constant current in his ears, his eyes constantly looking behind Hermione, watching the part of the world she could not see.

If she was concerned by his clinginess, she didn't say anything. Hermione just kept on as usual, gently pawing at his arm when he got too distracted, holding him firmly in the moment with just her presence.

By the time the late afternoon rolled around, Remus had gained some ground on reclaiming his control. Hermione seemed to understand he needed her close. The castle had mostly cleared for the day, but still she stuck to his side, following his lead as they explored the many rooms of the keep. So dutiful was her silent sentry position that she didn't notice they'd set upon Lachlann until the man stood before them.

Though owls flitted through the skies above Castle MacTire every so often, Hermione had already discovered the grounds did not hold an owlery. Instead, a turret on the southern-most edge of the castle served as the nesting ground for a small flock of ravens. When Remus tracked down Lachlann, he was wandering amongst the dark feathered birds, speaking softly to them under his breath.

Hermione paused in the doorway, the distance between her and Remus reaching its peak for the day as her mind flitted to Antonin Dolohov of all people. She shook her head and reclaimed her place by Remus' side.

"They're beautiful," Remus offered, as that was the sort of thing you said coming upon a man admiring his wild pets.

"They are." Lachlann held out a hand for one of the ravens to nip at his finger. "They've been called wolf birds, you know. I've ne'er known a raven not to love a wolf. Something in us just calls to them. Kindred spirits."

Hermione wandered over to the far window, cautiously approaching a rather small specimen with feathers lightly tousled from the wind. She held out a hand, holding her breath in anticipation. But the bird didn't move. It cocked its head to the side and shuffled its feet, blinking at her with abyssal eyes. She huffed out her breath, slightly dejected.

"Don't feel too bad, lassie. Broin's already found his favorite among our kindred." He waved off the bird to fly up into the rafters. "They pick favorites and they don't tend to stray." He followed her gaze up to where Broin stared down at them and sighed. "But you dinnae come to talk about them now, did you? Go on, out with it."

Hermione stepped back as Remus cleared his throat.

He'd learned, clearly, since their attempt to woo John and Red. This time when Remus spoke of the war, he was calm, but Hermione could admit he was effective. He spoke of the atrocities Voldemort and his followers committed, of their warped ideology and plans for the future. He spoke of Dumbledore and the Order and those committed to fighting for the Light. It was an impassioned speech, a truly inspiring display of loyalty to his leader, but Hermione's heart sunk to her stomach as she watched Lachlann take it all in. What had been indifference turned to curiosity and then to confusion before stopping on undisguised anger. When Remus ran out of words, Lachlann waited, letting the silence underscore the fire growing within his eyes. The birds in the tower started to chitter, their calls echoing into the darkening sky.

"You come here with nothing to offer, asking us to risk our lives for those who drove us to the outskirts of society? You would ask us to wade into the waters of war on behalf of strangers?"

"Think of Delaney and her pack." Remus tried to find solid ground for his words to land. "If they are in England, then they will be affected. Vol-Voldemort will stop at nothing for what he wants. You're willing to fight for them against Muggles who want their land, right? Why not against those who'd take their lives?"

"Don't mistake my kindness for stupidity. I'll ne'er have it said I sent my kindred off to fight for no reason other than to fight." His eyes narrowed. "Delaney was one of ours before she was one of yours. She was of the clann before she left, and even then she knew what she was giving up by goin'. But we still watch for her because she's kindred. She's pack."

Pack.

Lachlann shook his head as if disappointed Remus hadn't already known what he would say. "These people you fight for, can you make promises of their behalf? Do you have that authority?"

Remus knew he did not. "He's looking for others to join him, can't you see that? We already know he's seeking to recruit werewolves." He at least had to awareness to cringe at the hypocrisy. "But he aims to use them, to use them as fodder to spark fear. He would send them off to fight for no reason but to kill and be killed."

"And your people would do the same." Lachlann's voice was angry but tired. "You insult our intelligence, our autonomy and worth. Come back when you have something to offer that is worth the lives we may lose fighting a war we do not own."

"And if Delaney and her pack get swept away in it?"

"Then we will pull her back."

Remus pursed his lips. "And not before?"

"She has not asked."

Remus opened his mouth to argue, but Hermione's hand sliding into his own stopped the words on his tongue. He looked down at where they met.

"You're a small pack, so it may be harder to see, but it is forever. The clann, once it's set, is forever." Lachlann had softened, that same sad smile gracing his face. "Time changes. People change. But pack always remains."

Pack.

17 May 1980

Castle MacTire

The third night at Castle MacTire, Remus did not sleep. He paced his room. He stood at the window, eyes tracking the grounds and sky. He listened. He waited. And when the itch under his skin became too much, he was already out the door, moving slowly, silent in his steps as he closed the door behind him. He paused. A scent he recognized only in recent memory. He turned.

Standing just steps away with his back to Remus was Cameron. The young wolf moved slightly, a constant fidget, as if he was having to pull himself from reaching for Hermione's door, as if he was close to giving in.

Remus moved without thinking. He gripped Cameron's shoulder, throwing him back into the wall, a snarl on his lip. A yip escaped the boy, but despite his struggles, he couldn't escape Remus' hold.

"Leave," Remus growled out, releasing the young man only to pull and shove him down the hall. Cameron stopped, turning with hands already curling into fists, but one look at the golden fire taking over Remus' vision had him pulling back to a retreat, footsteps slow then echoing fast against stone. Remus watched him, unable to look away until he knew Cameron was gone.

"Remus?" Hermione's head peaked out from behind her door. She wiped at the sleep in her eyes. "What was that noise? Was that you?"

Remus closed his eyes, Hermione's voice pulling him back. He took a step back, falling against the wall beside her. "Pack your things, Pup. I think it's time we left."

Hermione blinked, finally seeing the state of Remus. "Okay." She reached out a hand to ground him. "I'll be ready in just a moment and then we can go."

Remus clenched his jaw, but nodded. A spark of hope lit in Hermione's chest. Were they done? Was this finished? Were they going home?

"The-the forest, Whinfell Forest. We'll go there, look for the pack. We'll find the trees and we'll find them."

The spark died out. "Right, of course, Remus."

He stood and walked back toward his door, trying not to let Hermione see how close Moony was to the surface. "This isn't over yet."

Chapter Title Translation: *A Superior Force

ceannard cinnidh – clan chief

ceangal – bond, connection, link

cù sassunnach – English dog

cù tighe – house dog