A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. I'll warn you now, this is based off of a personal headcanon of mine where Lyall may have chased off Greyback—but not before Hope bashed his teeth in. So, there is sadness and heartache. Writing Club prompts listed below.

WARNING: Sadness, brief violence (not in detail), minor language

Careers Advice 3: Write about somebody protecting someone or something.

PLEASE NOTE: For those of you who don't know, "Mam" is "Mum" in Welsh, and "Tad" is "Dad". I headcanon that Remus uses those terms at home, but Mum and Dad at school, to avoid confusion.

Word Count: 3495

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.

Thanks to Ari and my sister for beta'ing!

Enjoy!

Hope Lupin didn't know how her life had come to be the way it was. She had never imagined that a single person could hold so much fear inside them, or that so much could be expected of someone so young.

She stood in the doorway of her sixteen-year-old son's room, watching him sleep fitfully. Sweat dampened his brow, and his mouth was set in a firm frown. Her heart went out to him; she wanted to curse the world for giving such a sweet boy such a heavy burden to bear. Remus had been at war with this illness for twelve years already, and in Hope's opinion, that was too long. Unfortunately, she knew enough about the magical world to realize that it would be naive to assume that any problem could be solved with a quick incantation and a few pretty sparks. There were some things in the world that couldn't be fixed. Her gaze fixed on the boy in bed, she closed his door slowly, blocking him from sight, then leaned heavily against the wood behind her, sliding slowly to the floor. That was her baby in there, fighting a battle no one else could see. She would give anything in the world to take that weight off of him, but it was impossible.

Hope's head fell into her hands. She didn't want her son to grow up in such a small-minded world. He shouldn't be the person who was always pushed to the side, looked down upon. He was brilliant, far ahead of most of the students in his year, and Hope just knew that he could make great changes in the world, if only the world would let him.

Her mind wandered to that awful night so many years ago. Her baby's life had been changed forever that night; Hope was only grateful that he was still breathing. She'd come so close to losing him.

Hope's amber eyes snapped open, still slightly cloudy from sleep. She wasn't sure what had woken her, but unease was pooling in her stomach. She sat up a little, propping herself up with her elbow. She disentangled her other hand from Lyall's heavy limbs, then gently shook his shoulder, coaxing him awake.

"Did you hear something?" she asked when his deep blue eyes opened. "I think I heard something."

Lyall smiled sleepily at her. "It was probably just Remus, love. The lad must be trying to sneak a midnight snack again."

She chuckled along with her husband, but her discomfort didn't leave her. "I think… maybe we should go check—"

A shrill scream pierced the air, choked with fear and pain, and then Hope was moving.

Her heart was threatening to burst out of her chest as she hurtled out of bed, acting purely on instinct. She saw Lyall scramble for his wand—he couldn't find it, but Hope knew that there wasn't enough time to help him.

She tore through the house, making a quick detour to the sitting room and scooping up the poker next to the fireplace on a whim. Her brown hair fanned out behind her, half of it still trapped in the loose bun she'd worn to bed. Her bare feet slapped almost painfully against the floorboards, but she didn't slow down. Her mother had once told her that a mother would move heaven and Earth for their child, and Hope knew it to be true in that moment.

She reached Remus' door and threw it open. For a moment, all she could see was the blackness of the night surrounding her; then her eyes adjusted, and she caught sight of two luminous yellow eyes peering at her. They belonged to a monstrous creature, like a wolf but larger, blood dripping from its maw, its gleaming white teeth stained red. Beneath its large claws lay the silhouette of a small boy—Remus.

It was rage, not fear, that filled her then. Her child was lying, unmoving, and it was the fault of the beast before her. A growl emitted from deep within the wolf's throat, but Hope wasn't afraid. She hefted the poker over her shoulder like a baseball bat, then stepped into the room. The wolf was lowering its head to bite Remus again, but before it could, Hope had swung.

Miraculously, the poker didn't break—it held firm, even as Hope brought it down again and again on the wolf. She aimed specifically for the face, and the creature howled with pain and surprise as the sharp end of the stick sank into its flesh repeatedly. It backed away from Remus, and Hope had managed to get between the monster and her son. Finally, the wolf got a bit more clever and caught the poker in its mouth, ripping the weapon from her hands. She held her ground even as the beast advanced, determined to keep it away from her boy.

Just when the wolf crouched down to pounce, Lyall burst through the door, brandishing his wand and shooting off spell after spell. The wolf, injured and outnumbered, leapt back out of the window Hope only just now realized was broken.

She had no time for shock. She ran to her son, her hands fluttering over his face. His little jaw was slack, and his eyes had rolled up in his head. His pajamas were bloody and torn, and red covered nearly every inch of skin she could see.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, but she didn't acknowledge it. She began gathering Remus' body up in her arms, looking frail for the first time since he was an infant. He was four years old. This shouldn't have happened.

"Baby, it's okay," she rambled, frantic. "Mummy's here, I will protect you."

"Hope…" Lyall murmured. "That… that was a werewolf, Hope."

She glanced up into his tearstained face, unaware of the fact that her own was just as wet. "What does that matter?" she whispered. "Our baby needs the hospital, Lyall, now."

Lyall shook his head firmly. "We can't take him to St. Mungo's. They'll register him. I know a Healer who won't ask questions, but we need to hurry."

He scooped down to take Remus' limp form from her, and, numbly, she asked, "Register him for what?"

Lyall didn't answer, and she had no choice but to follow him out the door. Now that her adrenaline had run its course, she felt strangely detached from everything around her. Now that she knew this was a magical ocurrance, there wasn't a real need for her. All she could do was trail after her husband as he entered their fireplace and let him whisk the three of them into an entirely different home. She watched as Remus was taken into a spare room and was angry when Lyall told her that she couldn't come in at the moment.

She shouted at him, hardly aware of what she was saying, but she was still locked out of the room where Remus would meet his fate. She collapsed onto a chair in the sitting room, her shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs. The panic was beginning to set in, and she was trying to keep herself from becoming hysterical. Sometimes she hated the world Lyall came from. She was helpless when it mattered most, and he so often assumed that she had to be protected from the worst aspects of it. All she could do sometimes was blindly trust her husband, and though she loved him, that was not how she wanted to live her life. She shook and trembled, and a mere five minutes had passed before she was back on her feet, pounding on the door to the room where Remus was being treated.

It opened slightly, revealing a frazzled-looking Lyall. He winced when he saw her. "Hope—"

Her hand shot out and gripped his sleeve, which was damp from Remus' blood. "He needs me, Lyall. My baby needs me and I'll be damned if I let anyone stand in the way of that."

Lyall may have been a Ravenclaw in school, but he had a decent amount of Hufflepuff loyalty. He stepped aside, albeit reluctantly, and she rushed over to the bed where Remus was sprawled out. The Healer humphed when she saw her, but Hope didn't care; she needed to see her son.

Remus was bathed in blood, and Hope watched on in horror as the Healer sealed the wound with what Lyall quietly explained was a mixture of silver powder and dittany. The pain caused Remus' eyes to flutter open, and he whimpered in his half-conscious state. Hope reached forward and grasped his tiny hand tightly, doing her best to soothe him as his brow grew wet with fever and his body contorted violently.

After a minute, the Healer—a hunchbacked woman with steely-grey hair—straightened up and turned to the two anxious parents. In a thickly accented voice, she said, "It's up to him now."

Hope's heart plummeted. "What… what do you mean?" she whispered.

Lyall's voice cracked as he spoke. "I'll tell her."

The Healer left to go get some Potions, and Hope looked at Lyall expectantly.

He explained to her that another consciousness had attached itself to Remus, and how it would grow stronger with the waxing of the moon. He told her about its viciousness, and how many succumbed to the monster within, destroying what was left of their humanity—this was called "turning feral". Lastly, he explained how if Remus couldn't handle the wolf's consciousness, it would kill him.

It was as though the floor had been ripped out from under her. Her little boy—the one who couldn't stand to kill a spider—would now either have to fight a battle of will for the rest of his life, or… die.

She startled when she heard Lyall's jagged breathing. "Hope, I…" he began brokenly. "This is… this is all my fault."

She frowned through her grief. "No, Lyall, of course it's not. Why would you say that?"

And he told her. He recounted the previous day at the Ministry, and the cruel words he'd spoken about an entire community of people. Hope could finally identify the reason behind his strange detachment all night; he was having trouble reconciling their son with the sick boy on the bed.

"That's our son," she said slowly, wondering how he could possibly wonder otherwise. "If he is a werewolf, then he has lycanthropy. He's not some creature." She knew it was cruel, but she was angry, and scared, and horrified with her husband. "He has a soul, he's not evil, and he deserves to live!" She was shouting now, but she didn't care. Her face was as red as the blood surrounding Remus, but she wouldn't give up this fight. Lyall's doubts had to be resolved immediately. "And if you, Lyall Lupin, can't see the miracle we brought into the world just because he has an illness, then you are most definitely not the man I thought you were."

He stared at her in shock; she'd never lost her head like this before. Then he took a step back, horrified. "I… how could I…" His face fell into his hands, and he wept.

And Hope wanted to, but she couldn't hold all three of them together.

Remus had defied all odds and survived that night. They had moved to another house, in hopes that they could avoid a similar attack—one that would take Remus away for good. They had moved quite frequently over the years and had given up hope that their son would be able to attend school; that had all changed, however.

Hope curled in on herself, biting her lower lip. She didn't know why Remus had been sent home from school to recover "physically and emotionally", as Poppy Pomfrey put it, and her son had been very tight-lipped about the events that had led to this unpleasant vacation. All Hope and Lyall knew was that it had something to do with the full moon.

This wasn't the first time, of course, that Remus had been unwilling to tell them something that had happened to him at school.

"Remus, love, what's the matter?" Hope was sitting at their kitchen table while her son, now seven, stared glumly at the homework in front of him. "Do you need help with your schoolwork?"

Remus shook his head, his brown hair flying about his face. "No, Mami."

Hope frowned, bookmarking the novel she was reading. Normally she believed that children should have enough freedom to try to work things out on their own first, but her boy looked so troubled that she found it impossible not to intervene. "Remus? Tell me what happened."

He looked up at her shyly through his bangs, then murmured, almost too soft to for her to hear, "Mummy, do you think I'm ugly?"

Hope's heart stopped. She opened and closed her mouth, floundering for something to say. "Of course not! Remus, honey, why would you think that?"

Remus' little fingers trailed down his arm, where one or two of his scars were peeking out from under his shirt sleeves. "I dunno."

Well, now Hope did know, and it made her furious that some classmate of her son's had been so rude to him. "Remus John Lupin, you look at me," she commanded. "I don't know what the kids at school are saying, but you are a marvellous boy. And besides," she walked over to his chair, gently pulling him into a hug, "no one who is good can ever be ugly. And you are the best child in the world."

Remus sniffled in her arms, but like the seven-year-old he was, he tried to hide it from her. "Thanks, Mummy."

She gently stroked her hair, wondering if Muggle primary school had been a bad idea for him. "Of course, baby. Of course."

Hope stood up shakily and walked away from Remus' bedroom. She'd have to wait a while yet for Lyall to come home, but it was probably for the best; she needed to compose herself. She walked into the bedroom she shared with Lyall and grabbed her nightclothes. She then proceeded into the bathroom, ready to wash the day away. Still, as the hot water glided over her skin, she couldn't help but think of how brave her son truly was, and how much she wished he didn't have to be.

She was just wrapping her robe around herself when she heard the door open. She gathered her wet hair into a bun and then went to greet her husband.

Lyall seemed surprised to find her ready for bed. "Long day?" he asked worriedly.

She ran a hand over her freshly-washed face. "Remus was sent home today. Something happened at school—nothing he's in trouble for—but he won't tell me what it is. He's sleeping right now; the moon put him in rough shape."

Lyall furrowed his brow worriedly, deepening the lines on his face. "That's… not good." He sighed. "We'll talk to him in the morning. Do you want to eat?"

Hope nodded, and Lyall draped an arm around her shoulders as they walked into the kitchen. Halfway through the meal, Lyall looked up at her. "I was offered a promotion today," he said carefully.

Hope glanced up, surprised. "That's… are you going to accept?"

"I don't know," Lyall murmured. "We'd have to move again."

Hope groaned. "Lyall, we can't do that to Remus again."

Lyall hesitated, his blue eyes filled to the brim with indecision. Finally, he spoke. "There's a war brewing, and it's… well, it's targeting you and Remus. If we move, if I accept the promotion, then I can better protect the two of you."

Hope frowned. "I don't need protecting—"

"Damn it, Hope!" Lyall slammed his fists onto the table in anguish. "There are dark wizards on the rise, and you can't fight them. They won't think twice about killing you, and that is why you are in such danger. They don't care, Hope. They care nothing of love, or family—all they know is their need for power."

Hope pressed her lips into a thin line. The world—both Muggle and wizard—had prejudices based on the most ridiculous of things. "Lyall, we can't just run. We have a home here, something to fight for, and being near the Ministry will put Remus in danger—"

"That's okay, Mam," croaked a voice from the doorway. Hope and Lyall both jumped, then whipped around to see their son leaning heavily against the doorframe. There were dark circles under his eyes and a bleakness in his expression that she'd never seen before; it scared her.

Remus' shoulders sagged. "Tad's right. Voldemort—"

Lyall winced, and Hope frowned in confusion.

"—is getting stronger, and he's recruiting werewolves. You should be afraid." Then he added under his breath, "You should be afraid of me."

"I'm not afraid of you," she said sharply, her amber eyes intense. She turned back to Lyall. "I won't run from anyone. Take the promotion if you want, but know that we are fine here, and moving will put your son at risk."

Her eyes met Remus'. "You and I need to have a talk."

The light was missing from his eyes as he nodded.

It was dark in Remus' room. She reached out to switch on the lights, but he asked her not to. Frowning, she obeyed, but left the door to his room open so the light from the hallway flooded in.

Hope reached out and put a hand on Remus' cheek. "What's the matter love? Please tell me."

She hated how she had to practically beg to be let into his life—there were things he didn't want to burden her with, and she didn't know how to show him that he could never burden her.

He avoided her gaze. "School didn't… the last moon didn't go so well."

Hope sighed. "I guessed as much. But why were you sent home?"

Remus shook his head slightly, and Hope's eyes welled up with tears. She grabbed his hands, which were littered with scars and calluses, squeezing them gently. "Remus," she begged, "I know that I don't know what you're going through. I know that I will never fully understand the problems you're facing. But I still want to know you—the good and the bad, I love it all. And that's not going to change."

His amber eyes, so like her own, were wide and almost desperate. "Someone… someone came into the Shack," he whispered,

Her blood ran cold, and her eyes filled with horror. She had seen firsthand what effects the curse had on its victims, and she didn't wish it upon anyone. Remus wasn't looking at her anymore; he was hugging himself tightly, rocking back and forth on the edge of his bed. She knew from experience that he was trying to rein in his emotions, to regain control.

"I could have killed him," he continued, just as softly as before. "I could have killed him if he hadn't gotten out. And then the wolf was angry, and I've never been hurt that much before, Mam—"

He interrupted himself with his own broken sobs.

It was the most horrible feeling in the world, wanting to comfort your child but not knowing how to. What did you say when someone had nearly killed another person?

Still wrapped in her plum bathrobe, she got down on her knees in front of Remus, cupping his face in her hands.

"This is not your fault," she told him sternly. "It was entirely out of your hands. I know what you're thinking—you think you're some sort of—"

"Monster?" Remus offered when she failed to come up with a word. "That's what he called me; he agreed not to tell anybody, but he didn't have a problem with calling me that."

With great difficulty, Hope pushed aside her anger. "You are not a monster."

Remus didn't respond.

Hope moved her hands to his shoulders, gripping them firmly. "You are a brilliant person, Remus. You have the kindest heart of anyone I know, and you are so, so brave. The world needs you. And your father and I—we need you too."

Remus dropped his head forwards, resting his forehead against her shoulder. She positioned herself so she was sitting on the bed with him, and pulled him against her chest. He was already so much taller than she was, but holding him like this—he'd never be too tall for that.

"Shh," she murmured to him, carding her fingers through his hair. "This isn't the end. There is still so much life inside of you. Just breathe. Tomorrow, things will be different, but for now, just breathe."

He did, and soon enough, Hope found herself backing quietly out of his room; this time, however, he didn't look quite so troubled.

They weren't fine. But they were together. She kissed Lyall goodnight, and headed off to sleep.

Who knew what dreams would come her way?

A/N: Writing Club Prompts:

Character Appreciation: Hermione: (event) saving someone's life

Disney Challenge: (dialogue) "You don't scare me. I won't run from anyone."

Dark Lady's Diabolical Lair: missing

Book Club: The Faun: (plot point) following someone, (emotion) worried, (dialogue) "And that is why you are in such danger.", (word) intervene

Showtime: Prima Donna — (dialogue) "We need you too."

Lyric Alley: Call it a dark, night of the soul

Ami's Audio Admirations: Campus Security: Alt: (trait) brave

Angel's Arcade: (word) dark, (dialogue) "I will protect you.", (action) walking

Lo's Lowdown: Katara — write about a woman who can fight. Alt: (occupation) Healer

Bex's Basement: The Twits — Alt: (dialogue) "No one who is good could ever be ugly."

Film Festival: (plot point) getting a promotion