Chapter Text
When Elanthalir Potter – Effie, as she insisted, invited the Lupins to their annual Summer Solstice slash ‘the kids are out of school’ party, Hope didn't give it much thought. She knew it was out of mere courtesy, the decorum that came with their children’s friendship. Seat fillers.
For years now, the Potter sent sealed inventions to dinners and Christmas parties and whatnot. But Hope, the former daughter of a Major Howell of the British Army, who hosted and attended more parties and get-togethers than days on a calendar could see, was out of sheer obligation.
She’d politely decline, insisting she’d never been much for parties. Save them the embarrassment of having the charity case at their posh party. Plus, anyone who’s spoken with Hope for longer than a few sentences could see her lack of social grace.
But Mrs. Potter found her at Kings Crossing to personally invite her and her husband. Remus accepted before Hope could conjure another excuse.
“We don’t have to go, Dad and I.” Hope had told Remus on their way home from the station. “You know how he is around the magical community. And I hate to embarrass you in front of your school friends.”
“I wish you’d stop talking so badly about yourself,” Her Remy had murmured. “I want you to meet them.”
So they went. Because Hope can’t say no to Remus. And Lyall can’t say no to her.
Hope had already met the boys before, but it was Lyall’s first time being introduced to his group. James and Peter and Sirius Black, whom Lyall, up till now, did not realize was a Black, not just some kid whose surname happened to be Black.
Hope didn’t care. Lyall had tried once to explain wizard blood purity and the sacred twenty-eight and how they control wizard society and race science, except it’s not that because that’s a Muggle thing, what they do is different, and blah blah blah. Leave it to wizards to overly complicate magical bigotry.
The girls were new. Apparently, it took Remus three years to get over his distrust of the young ladies in his year. Apparently, he used to growl at them in his first year. Marlene and Mary were lovely, but Hope can deny that Lily was just darling. The way her face turned the same shade of red when Hope thanked her for always being so nice to Remy.
They’d run off too soon enough, wanting to maximize their time together without school rules and regulations. And Lyall had been dragged away almost instantly by a charm of wizards who could not believe he was alive. Someone started a rumor that Lyall, in his ambition to eliminate all werewolves, had tried to blow up the moon.
Which is how Hope found herself completely alone, holding a drink which no one warned her would cause her to temporarily opera sing all her words. Oh, how she wished she could apparate far from here, even if anytime she’d apparated with Lyall it resulted in her regurgitating her last meal.
“Ah, you must be the Muggle Morty told us all about!” An elderly man takes her hands, aggressively shaking it up and down. “Not that we ever doubted him, but he is known to exaggerate his party guests. We’ve never had a muggle at one of these things; goblins and veelas and centaurs certainly, but you must be the first muggle! I’m Galleron Dunstone. It's a pleasure to meet you. And my wife, Mavis.” A giantess of a woman in butter yellow witches' robes scooped her up into a hug as if she were a doll.
“I’m that obvious?” Hope cringed as the woman put her down, “Hope Lupin, the pleasure’s mine.”
“It’s that darling frock of yours, dear,” Mavis answers enthusiastically. “It’s so delightful, what’s the term, cheese?”
Chic, she must mean. Should Hope correct her? She’d hate to come across as rude, opting to thank her instead.
Her plain blue dress was certainly fair from what most people would categorize as ‘chic.’ She'd had it for years now, an old easter dress she defaults to anytime she has to be decent, which was rare. At least she had the foresight to have it taken in; it had been far too loose on her last time she wore it.
Lyllal had offered to take her to a seamstress for the wizard robes for the occasion, showing her fashion magazine of more modern styles and contemporary robes that clearly took inspiration from Muggle fashion. She certainly regretted it at this moment, as it would have helped her fit in. But Hope insisted it would be a waste of money. Their budget was tight enough as it is.
“That must be what you do out in the Muggle world! Model those lovely dresses?”
“Oh no, I–” Hope flusters, cheeks alternating shades of red. “I’m a nurse, like a healer. Wait, no, healers are more comparable to magical doctors. I’m not–”
“Oh, how lovely! Isn’t that lovely, dear?” The man looks up towards his wife, enthusiastically bobs his head up and down. “One should never discount Muggle medicine, I say! They’ve even got cures to illness even though we don't. Those smart bastards already found a way to heal victims of nuclear bombs. Thank Merlin too. The Americans nearly wiped out half of East Asia.”
Had they? Hope highly doubted that, but her agreeable nature forbade her disputing it.
“And your husband? I haven’t heard about what Lyllal’s been up to since he left the ministry.”
“He’s here, somewhere. He’s self-funding his research on lycanthropy and a cure. It’s really quite fascinating, if you get the chance to talk to him about it.”
The man, oh gosh–what was his name– raised a brow, suspiciously, “He really thinks that’s possible?”
“Hope!” A voice interrupted. “We’ve been looking all over for you! Remus is asking for you. He’s fine–He just wanted to know which cookies were guten-free–”
“Gluten-free,” slips out of her mouth before she can stop it.
“Yes, that!” Effie Potters exclaimed, weaving around her, guiding her away from the crowd. “Galleron, Mavis, if you don’t mind.”
“No, of course, Effie!”
As soon as the two are out of earshot, Mrs. Potter leans down to murmur, “Thought you could use a break. I know well enough those two would talk your ear off.”
Hope exhaled. “Oh, thank you. I felt so bad, I already forgot their names.”
“Though Remus does want a cookie. But I think they ran off already.”
“Or five.” Hope muttered, “You’d think he’s trying to eat us out of our retirement.” Well, if we had one.
Mrs. Potter laughed. “Don’t tell me, James is just the same! Those boys.”
“Your home is lovely, Elan– Effie,” Hope corrected herself as they passed through the doors towards the marbled kitchen. “Your cat even greeted us when we arrived. I can’t say if I’m more impressed that you trained a cat to greet people or to wear clothes.”
“Pyaari is part-Kneazle, they’re highly intelligent. She doesn’t particularly enjoy wearing clothes, but I got these tiny sarees on our last trip to India, and I can’t help myself. It just makes her look so decent,” She says fondly. “Do you have any pets?”
“We used to have a cat back when Remy was little. She got killed by a fox, unfortunately…Poor Remus had been inconsolable for weeks.”
It was a fox, right? Or was it a neighbor’s dog? Somehow, it got into the attic, and Remus had been the one to find her. Poor thing had been completely mutilated.
They’d gotten a handgun afterwards. Hope hated it. Reminded her of her father.
(“Have you ever fired a gun?”)
Effie’s sudden touch on her arms pulled Hope out of that, though, forcing Hope back into the presence. Hope could tell the other woman was trying to comfort her with the kind smile on her lips, but Hope couldn’t help but feel cornered. “I’m not sure if Remus told you already, so in case he hasn’t, I wanted to let you know James told us about Remus’s… condition. With Remu’s permission, of course.”
“Right.” Hope nodded, quickly glancing at the hand squeezing her arm.
“If there’s anything you or your family ever need, please don’t be afraid to ask. I used to be a healer, you know? Anything, anything at all–”
“Oh. Thank you. But it’s okay. He’s really resilient.”
“Of course! But it’s still just horrible. Remus is such a kind boy. So tragic.”
“He is.” Hope blurted. “The kind part. We appreciate it, but it really is quite alright. Well, no, it’s not alright. But Remy hates it when we ‘pity’ him. I keep telling him it's not that, we just worry about him, but he’s so stubborn. Says I coddle him. I know I do, but I’m trying not to anymore, since he’s getting older…
“But, actually, that’s why we started the gluten-free diet; he keeps fighting with me about it. My coworker’s sister’s nephew has it, and she said a gluten-free diet has done wonders for him, so the least we can do is try.
Hope stopped herself when she realized she’d been rambling, “Oh. I’m so sorry. I know you don’t care, it’s a bad habit of mine.”
But Mrs. Potter didn’t reply. Her face was frozen, an expression somewhere in between horrified and confused. “Your… coworker's sister’s nephew is a wizard?”
“Oh no, they’re normal. Muggle, I mean. Not that wizards are abnormal or anything–”
“And he’s a…” Mrs. Potter’s voice lowered, barely audible, “A werewolf…?”
“What?” Hope’s breathing sharpened as she took a step back, then proceeded to wrap her arms across her stomach and chest. “No, no. Of course not. Why would you think that? He has Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, same as my Remy. It’s a collagen disorder; it affects his joints. That’s why he’s always dislocating some or another. Why he’s always getting sick…”
But the same expression remained etched in Mrs. Potter’s face.
Hope could feel the jolt of dread coursing through her nervous system. God forbid they accuse her of lying. Or worse. Hope can still recall how Remy’s primary school teachers reacted to all the bruising right before they pulled him out.
Thankfully, they had piles of hospital records and doctors’ notes, and nothing ever came out of it. But the accusation of abuse still rattled her. As if Lyall could ever lay a hand on their child.
“Lyall!” Hope said, relieved to see this head peaking out of the crowd.
“Hope,” He hurried towards her. “Sorry, I know you told me not to leave your side, but good news, I think I might have found a patron…”
“That’s wonderful!”
“Elanthalir,” Lyall turned. “Thank you for keeping my Hope company.”
“Certainly, Lyall.” Mrs. Potter said with thin lips. “I must get back to Morty, make sure he hasn’t set anything on fire. Please enjoy the party.”
But it wouldn’t be the last time Hope saw her that evening. As the party dwindled and Remus finally reappeared, smelling like the unholy combination of magical dung bombs and chocolate cake and missing half an eyebrow, they thanked their host.
“Anytime!” Effie hugged both Remus and herself as her husband shook Lyall’s hand. “Come back whenever you’d like. Though, Hope, if I could have a word before you go.”
Hope looked towards Lyall and Remus, both of whom looked equally surprised and simply shrugged. Lyall cleared his throat, nodding Remus along. “We’ll wait outside, love.”
“Listen, dear,” Effie said in a soft motherly voice when they left. “I know I’ve overstepping but I’m awfully worried –”
“Please don’t be. We’re doing everything we can for our Remus, it’s just hard since there’s no cure.” Yet. She reminded herself. In addition to Lyall’s research on Lycanthropy, he was just as dedicated to a cure for Remus’s illness.
Mrs. Potter shook her head. “I’m worried about you. Remus told us that you don’t have any Muggle family, or many friends–”
“I didn’t realize being shy was a crime.”
“No support system, dear.”
“I have Lyall.”
Mrs. Potter pressed her lips together, “I’ll be direct. He doesn’t hurt you, does he? It’s just you’re awfully jumpy. And Remus tells us you’re always ill.”
“Lyall?” Hope lets out a laugh. “Hurt me? No, no, of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. He’s never even raised his voice at me."
“Hope.” Mrs. Potter's voice sterned. “I’m probably old enough to be your mother. I know all too well how women from our generation were treated by their husbands. How they were taught to never talk about it. It was unacceptable then, and it is unacceptable now. I know we don’t know each other, but I’d like nothing more than to be friends. If you don’t feel comfortable speaking about it–”
Hope squeezed her hands even tighter, losing all sensation in her fingers. “Excuse me. You’re overstepping,” Her voice lowered. “Lyall loves me. He loves our son. I have never doubted that. I feel perfectly safe by his side, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make such accusations moving forward, Mrs. Potter.”
“Of course,” Potter said, razzled. “Though, if you ever do need anything, I’m here for you.”
“I won’t.” Hope said, “Thank you for having us over. It was a lovely party. I’ll see you in September.”
By the following week, the conversation with Mrs. Potter all but left Hope’s mind. The Lupins went back to their routine, though finally including Remus again. As much as Lyall and Remus both praised Hogwarts and insisted it was the best education, Hope hated the months he was away.
“Do you want me to pack you a meal for tonight?” Lyall asked as he washed up lunch, swishing his wand around as the plates flew around the kitchen.
Remus had already marched up to his room. He had asked for permission to hang out with the boys in town despite having a low-grade fever, and Lyall had firmly said no. Naturally, it led to a bit of shouting.
The nice part of rural Wales is that their home was far away from their neighbors, so no one could hear. Only the chickens would be disrupted by the two hot heads Hope shares her meals with.
Oh, and there was that silencing charm Lyall put around the house.
It was a bit overkill, Hope had thought. Hope can’t recall a single time when they’ve ever been loud enough to warrant that.
Well, other than that one time.
“Tonight? I’m not working tonight.” Hope said, whipping off the table, spraying the table with cleaner.
“I thought you said Mary asked you to switch shifts?” No. Mary had asked her to trade shifts last month. Something about her sister and her fiancé visiting. Hope was certain about it.
“I don’t think so,” Hope said before digging out her pocket calendar from her handbag.
But there it was.
Scribbled right below today’s date. ‘Eighteen to Six, switched with Mary,’
Hope had even doodled like stars by the full moon.
“Oh.” Hope said, “You’re right. Thanks for reminding me.” But when did that happen? “If that’s the case, I’m going to lie down for a bit.”
Hope made sure to check that all the windows and doors were locked before heading upstairs. And as she walked towards her bedroom, she saw Remus shaking the doorknob to the attic.
“Alright, Remy?” Hope asked. Remus had always been terrified of the attic and used to cry at the mere mention of it when he was a kid.
“Fine,” He barked, continuing to rattle the knob.
“Nope,” Hope said. “Try again.” Hope knelt down to pull a small silver key from under the carpet. Considering the tremor in his hands, Hope opted to simply unlock it for him.
Remus took in a deep breath, “Need to borrow Dad’s book on dementors for an assignment. Since I’m locked inside, I might as well get my homework done.”
Hope rolled her eyes. “Ah yes, inmate Lupin, forced to spend his sentence of twenty-four hours of manual labour, aka rest for the crime of telling the warrant he was having a bad pain day.”
“I didn’t tell him that,” He grumbled.
“Why’d you think Dad’s the warrant?” She asked. “Want me to go upstairs with you?”
Remus shook his head and grabbed the railing, mumbling something about how he’s not a kid anymore.
“Of course not, pet.” As Remus climbed up the stairs, Hope bent back down to return the key.
Huh.
Deep marks were carved into the back of the door, like scratches of a wild animal. Had they always been there? Or was this just the first time Hope noticed it?
Hope doesn’t allow herself to linger on that thought as she changes back into her sleeping clothes and shuts the blinds. She resumed reading the book on Lyall’s nightstand when she reached the line, ‘Was he, then, alone in the possession of a memory?’ underlined.
(“You can’t ask me that.”
“Lyall, please.”
“And what about me? I’ll still remember Remus nearly dying. I’ll still remember Luna. You’d condemned me to those memories? Alone with guilt with no one to understand?”)
Ri~ing. Hope jumped at the sound of the phone as it yanked her right out of that trance. She rushed over to the landline, keeping a hand over her racing heart.
What was that? How could a fabricated memory cause such a reaction in her?
“Hope Lupin speaking,” She croaked.
“Hi Hope! It’s Mary,” the voice called out. “Are you busy tomorrow?”
“No, I don’t believe so.”
“I know this is last minute, and I had said we could trade shifts, but my friend got us tickets to a show in town tomorrow. Would we be able to trade back? I’ll work tonight and you tomorrow? I already spoke with Dr. Binsley, and he said it’d be fine.”
Had Hope asked to trade? When…? “Sure, that’s no problem.”
“Cheers, you’re incredible! I owe you one!”
Hope goes back to bed, still utterly dazed and lost, with what happened. What did Mary mean she had asked to trade? Had she really forgotten?
And for some unknowable and illogical reason, Hope doesn’t bother telling Lyall about the change. Rather, she took some paracetamol and closed her eyes.
The migraine was burying itself in her head like a bullet.
Quarter past five, Lyall kissed her goodbye. “I love you, drive safe.”
“I will,” Hope said, placing the cooler in the car’s trunk.
“Packed you a couple of cheese sandwiches. And one with meat, saved you the last slice of Baloney in case you’re feeling brave. Remus nearly ate the whole package.”
Hope shook her head. It’s not that she has an adhesion to meat, but ever since her chronic migraines developed into chronic nausea, she’d been wary of any food that could make her sick.
“I know,” he said. “I don’t expect you to, but it’s an option.”
“Thank you, dear.” She gave him another quick peck. “I love you too.”
And Hope drove to work. Then, she drove to an ice cream shop. Then, to the market. She’d completed the crossword, and it was barely nine.
She stayed there staring at the sky with absolutely no idea what the hell she was doing. She can’t really expect herself to stay out till the next morning. The thought was laughable. All because she left the need to lie to her husband about her schedule.
There was absolutely no reason why she shouldn’t be sitting in her living room at this very moment, enjoying a cup of tea and listening to the radio. She couldn’t even say why she even lied to him in the first place.
But Hope’s never been practically clever…
Except maybe she does know. Deep down.
Mrs. Potter’s concern.
The book.
The pain nested in her stomach.
The scratches on the door.
The guilt in Lyall’s eyes.
The full moon in the middle of the day.
The window.
Greyback.
Could she really be so blind?
The curdling howls shook the house the second she walked in through the front, and she knew. Hope knew it was happening again. What ‘it’ was, she couldn’t have described. But one doesn’t forget the sense of danger that easily. They had to run; she had to get Remus and get as far from here as they could.
And God, her head felt like it was about to explode. The same feeling of dread she had felt when she came across that boggart all those years ago. She had placed her trust in Lyall, but where was he now?
The rush of emotions, terror, and confusion bled out of her, and she couldn’t make any sense of it. All she knew is that she needed to find Remus.
All signs pointed towards the attic.
Hope gasps. It was her son, naked, shackled with silver chains around his wrists and ankles as his bones contorted and enlarged unnaturally, screaming in pain. “Remy!”
“Mum?” Remus choked between the screams. Tears and blood were flooding down his face. “You have to get out of here!”
“No!” Hope bawled, running towards them. “Baby, what’s going on? Who did this to you? Where’s the key, I’ll get you–”
She shrieked before she could finish. Someone snatched her from behind, wrapping their arms completely around hers and yanking her away. She kicked and thrashed her legs madly, refusing to be torn away from her child. “Hope, we have to get out of here!”
Lyall.
It was Lyall’s voice.
With his arms entrapped her body as her son continued to howl in pain and deform into something monstrous. Something unrecognizable. His bones snapped, and his teeth lengthened, fur grew, and engulfed his body.
Why wasn’t he doing anything to stop this!? Couldn’t he see what was happening? Their son was dying, and what was he? A mere specter in his anguish?
“No! Why aren’t you helping him!?” It didn’t make any sense. Her Lyall would never do this, but the facts were transforming and mutilating right in front of her. Reality was mutilating in front of her.
She struggled even as the creature broke through its chains. Choking on the tears and gasping for air as Lyall dragged her towards the exit. All she could do was watch as her Remus, her darling Remy, had transmuted into a wolfish beast.
The creature stared directly at it with its feverish eyes and murderous desire. But what horrified Hope the most was that they were Remus' eyes. His warm brown eyes were still distinctly human.
It’s okay, baby, Hope wanted to say. Hope wanted to reach out, to hold him, to protect him. My darling boy. Mama’s here.
The wolf aimed for her neck.
The door slammed.
Then. The man pressed his lips against her head, his arm held a death grip on her, but Hope couldn’t move. He pleaded for forgiveness between kisses, but it was all meaningless.
“You should have let him kill me,” Hope said blankly. It’d be the kind thing. For how could she possibly be expected to live with this?
When Hope had felt the tip of his wand pressed against her head, she leaned into it. There was no point in fighting. It’d be an act of mercy.
“Obliviate.”