Another path for Remus lupin

Be alright

"It's Remus, he's back!" 

Lyall stood on the doorstep of his house, his hands pressed against the frame of the doorway, his suitcase was being held loosely in his hands, the buckles on his leather suitcase looked like they were going to pop off any second, due to the enormous amount of paperwork he had stored in there. Lyall's greasy, greying hair was being tossed in his face due to the wind (and also because he had just apparated to the doorstep). Several buttons on his button-up shirt were undone, his tie was wrinkled since he did not have the motivation to iron it.

He had just gotten back from the ministry after a long day of work, his head felt heavy, like a weight was attached to it, and he was pretty sure he had a headache coming in, due to the fact that whenever he thought about something, his head would prick in pain like a needle was being injected into his brain.

And with an incoming headache and a bunch of paperwork to fill out by the time the sun rose the next morning, he really didn't have time for Hope to go on another tangent about their long-lost (and dead) son.

"Hope, I-" Lyall sighed, his voice sounding equally tired as he felt, he took in a deep breath, "I thought we were going to get over this," 

Though Lyall did not even glance at Hope, he could practically feel her disappointment in him radiating off of her,

"But, Lyall-"

"Hope!" Lyall exclaimed, huffing as he placed his suitcase on the ground, flicking back his smelly, greasy hair away from his sweaty face, "I know it must be hard but-"

"Lyall!" Hope snapped, his voice firm and sharp, she then breathed out an exasperated sigh, "For once, could you just look around,"

And, without being given any direction, his eyes zoomed over to the couch, where, a boy lied on the couch, the blankets gently wrapped around him and tucked under his chin. His eyes were closed, his head lying limply on the cushion, his brown hair that had flacks of dirt sprinkled all over it. His face covered in deep, shiny red scars.

Everything paused, Lyall's breath caught in his throat, 

And immediately, without even questioning who this boy was, something clicked in Lyall's thick head. 

This was his son.  

He wasn't sure how, but, he knew. But, there was this nagging voice inside his head, this voice that would go away, that told him that this random boy, was his son.

And for one long second, Lyall paused.

How?

How was he still alive-

How did he get here?

How did he even know he was his son?

But, Lyall just knew, he couldn't explain how, but he just knew.

With his shoes thumping against the floorboards, Lyall rushed to Remus, his heart thumping against his chest, he could hear it echoing in his ears. His mind felt rushing, liked a blur, with his heart echoing around in his mind, and his incoming headache growing stronger and strong, along with the revelation that his son was sleeping just a few inches away from him. 

Lyall paused over Remus as he reached over and gently lifted the blanket off the boy.

Excitement and disbelief was practically brewing inside him, bubbling and sizzling inside his stomach like a potion, however, that potion sizzled back down when his eyes met the half moon crescent bite that lay on the side of his neck.

He paused, the blanket held tightly in his hand.

The bite was faint and seemed to have grown into his son's skin, Lyall wouldn't have even noticed if he wasn't standing above him.

To anyone, they would just assume it was a dog bite, but, Lyall recognised it almost immediately. After all, he wasn't an expert on Non-Human Spirituous Apparitions for nothing.

His recognised the shape of the bite, the way the bite marks sunk into this boy's neck. 

This wasn't a dog bite, this was a werewolf bite...,

Lyall's hands quickly gripped the blanket. 

He shouldn't have surprised, after all, his son was taken away by werewolves. If those monsters didn't kill him like he'd thought, it really wasn't a big shock if they had given him lycanthropy.

Lyall turned towards his wife, who was standing a bit behind him, her eyes teary and a small smile of hopefulness on her face.

Lyall tried to push down the disappointed that clogged up in his throat, "Hope...do you have any idea that our son is a werewolf?"

Hope smile faltered as it slowly slipped off her face, "I-...why would that matter-"

"Hope," Lyall grunted, his hands shaking, his voice rasping with frustration, "I don't want a werewolf for a son,"

Hope scoffed, her eyes narrowing, "You're not serious, are you?"

Lyall said nothing.

Hope's nose flared, her eyebrows arching upwards in disbelief, "Why does it matter if he's a werewolf?" Hope demanded, her voice growing fiercer, "Our son is here! Isn't that supposed to be the thing you're supposed to focus on?"

Lyall dodged the question, "But-, my son-, I don't want him to be a werewolf!" Lyall repeated, suddenly feeling like his words were loosing their meaning,

Hope's hands scrunched and tears welled up in her eyes again, "Well, I never wanted my son to go missing for seven years, but, here we are,"

Lyall paused, thinking his words over carefully, "Well, it was the werewolves that took away our son-"

"They may have taken him away," Hope began, her voice crumbling as she spoke. She looked down at the ground and bit her lip, "But you made them do it,"

The blanket from Lyall's hands feel onto the ground like a feather. Lyall paused, words clogged and piling up in his throat.

There was no reason for Lyall to be offended, after all, it was true, and Lyall had known it for years. He didn't know a night when he didn't lie awake in his bed, thinking about how his son could still be in his house, sleeping safe, if he didn't tell that disgusting werewolf what he truly thought about them.

But, deep down, he always hoped that someone would tell him that he was wrong. That it wasn't his fault, that it was the werewolves fault. That he had done nothing wrong.

And after all these years, hearing the words finally break from Hope's lips, made all his years of guilt sink into his skin.

With a feeling like he had just been stabbed in the chest, Lyall opened his mouth, "Why-, why would you-," Lyall stammered, trying to sound dominant and strong, however, he just sounded as pathetic as he felt.

Hope breathed in, her eyes suddenly flickering to look a Lyall in the eyes, "It was your hatred of werewolves that took our son away from us, so, are you really going to make the same mistake again?"

Lyall paused, his eyes flickering towards Remus, who, somehow, was still lying asleep on the couch, his cheek pressed against the cushion. Hope's tense, rough voice sinking and gluing into his mind. Her voice echoing in his mind.

Lyall paused, kneeling down on the ground, grabbing Remus' shoulder and shaking it gently. Remus' eyes flickered open. When his eyes landed on Lyall, they widened, Lyall could see they were shaking.

Lyall bit his lip as he gently wrapped his hands around Remus.

Remus let out a small gasp as Lyall held him in his arms.

"Don't worry, Remus, it'll be alright," he whispered in his sons' ear.

And, for some silly reason, Remus believed him.