Ties That Bind

She had been coming here alone, this same day, every year, for forever--or so it seemed.  Well meaning loved ones had promised it would get easier, but it was a lie. It never did.  Remus was here, and so was her heart.

Her memories of the funeral were a bit odd--distorted.  Then, on the first anniversary, her father had come with her.  She didn't remember leaving here that day.  Her father still hadn't answered her about how she'd gotten home that time, but she did remember the sun had been shining.

He hadn't wanted her to come today. He'd asked her to put it off--just one day.  She couldn't.  It wasn't in her. There was no force under creation powerful enough to curb the gnawing that ate at her soul and made her return on this day.  Not the distance of time, not the strength of her father's love, not the ferocity of the summer storm that whipped at her clothes and the scars on her face.  It was the same irresistible, unavoidable collision course that ripped her heart in two, like clockwork.

Her father knew what it was going to do to her just as well as she did.  He had tried to talk her out of going, but in the end, he knew she would not be moved.  He hadn't been able to look her in the eyes. He didn't want to see the anguish one more time.  It was the one wound he wanted to heal the most, and it was the one he hadn't seen any hope for. Not really. He saw her, the long black cloak draped about her, the hood pulled up to hide her brutalized face, and the roses clutched in the one hand that still had movement.  This year, after all the werewolves had done to her, he couldn't look at her as she left on this errand one more time.  He had looked up at her bodyguard sternly and then had pretended to look down at the newspaper and his tea.

Marcus looked at her to see if she was ready.  He took the roses from her to let her good hand lock tight waist, as he locked his arm around hers.

"Watch the lightning," her mother warned, not liking the risk of porting in a lightning storm.  

"Yes, Ma'am," Marcus said. He ported them to the small, remote cemetery that had become such a familiar place to her.   

And so she was here again, making her annual pilgrimage one more time, and not the first time she'd come in the rain. Today, the rain was coming down in sheets. Belby wasn't letting go of her, but he let her lead.  Her steps were automatic. When they got to the right grave, she pulled away from him. Already soaked to the skin, she knelt in the wet grass, motioning him to give her a bit of space. He walked just a few paces away, seeing no danger, and simply waited, laying the roses beside her.

The grass nearest the headstone was a bit overgrown. She ripped it away with her good hand. She asked herself the same question that had no answer. What might the world be like if those who'd fallen at Voldemort's hands had lived? What would it have been like if Remus had had more time? If he were still alive?

Her fingers slowly traced his name on the stone and tucked the roses up tight against the stone.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.  "I should have been there. I should have been with you."

Keiran’s palms rubbed against his eyes, the sheer pain of the day wearing at him until he felt like a shell of a man rather than the adult and figure of authority that he was meant to portray to his students. It wouldn’t have been so hard a year ago. That much was obvious. But Christmas had come and gone, and the Hayes had spent their Christmas Eve mourning and pretending to work through things so their holiday was spent as a family and not as a large group of very cold-hearted people. Although they spend the holiday arguing, the lot of them (excepting Mira, of course), Keiran had never missed his best friends more.

The Ivanovs, though, were busy with their own lives. He couldn’t ask them to step away from that to handle him. Surely he would bring it up to Millie at some point, but that would take some serious courage that he just didn’t feel right then. Although he said his usual goodbye to his mother, Adrienne and Elliot, Keiran felt a little guilt have at him for not explaining what he was up to. Indeed, he should have told them, should have brought Millie with him.

But Millie was nearly due and was in absolutely no condition to travel to his father’s hometown, by car or otherwise, and he was not about to ask that of her. She had seen him break down one too many times. In other words, that one time. But he was meant to be there for her right now, not the other way around.

His feet landed in the sodden grass, immediately assaulted by the wind that whipped around the graveyard. His eyes closed against the wind as it pelted against his skin, grateful that he had thought to protect himself with a large trench-coat style cover. The gray of the material fit in so well amongst the stones that Keiran almost chided himself for wearing it. But the wind kicked up, so he flicked up the collar of the jacket and started towards the proper grave. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he had to make quite the figure, looking angry (though it was at himself) and pained as he stormed along the path in haste.

As he walked, the rain created a sort of sheer that he had trouble seeing through, realizing too late that he was going to pass by someone who was also visiting. They seemed just as uninterested in the rain, but he slowed down unwittingly as he approached, reluctant to interrupt. A crease formed on his brow as he tore his eyes from them. It felt like he was intruding to even look, so he turned his gaze to the second figure, standing a short distance away.

Aiden’s grave was mere meters away, and Keiran almost thought about going back to Millie and visiting the next day. He was already fairly ashamed to be there. He was supposed to follow his father to some extent and prepare those kids, but he hadn’t been able to even lead a lesson. Instead, his eyes had stuck on that spot, the one where they found him. The one where he was killed. And now Mairen was telling them that she didn’t know who had done it, when just a week before she was sure they knew? It seriously made Keiran wary; the girl had never been one to withhold information. It made him wonder if someone was after her the way they had been after his father.

He couldn’t ask her to risk that, as much as he wanted to know.

Hesitating, Keiran’s feet stopped and he decided to wait nearby and give the other visitors their time. His shoes immediately started flooding and he frowned, watching the water race past his feet. Millie already expected him home, he knew. Deciding to risk looking like the fool he so clearly was, Keiran started approaching again, intending to just past by. As he got closer, though, he glanced over at the first figure where they knelt by the grave, and hardly noticed when he practically walked into the man who had accompanied them.

Marcus had been glancing at Khaat, when he saw a figure out of the corner of his eye. He looked up just in time to take a small side step out of the way of the man who hadn't seen him any quicker. Marcus figured it was either preoccupation or the fact that the rain was reducing visibility.

"Sorry, Mate," Marcus said quietly. "Its a bit hard to see today."

Khaat heard Marcus speaking, but since he never called her 'Mate', she looked up quickly, forgetting her need to hide her face. She saw a young, dark haired wizard there. Who else would be so crazy as to come here, to such a remote place, and in weather as brutal as this?

Just then lightning crackled through the skies and snapped a tree limb off not far from her.

"Khaat!" Marcus reacted, drawing his wand and firing at the limb to keep it from hitting her. Shards of the falling limb were blasted everywhere. He took one or two long, fast strides and swept his arm under her good shoulder and drew her to her feet. She seemed to have a few minor gashes from 'shrapnel' from the branch, but it didn't look serious. "Remus will have to take a rain check. Literally," Marcus said.

He looked back at the young wizard who had happened upon them, hoping that the shards hadn't struck him. "You alright?" Marcus asked. "Looks like its getting dangerous. We should get out of here."

"There's a market over there," Khaat said, "Just a few doors down. He serves a 'spot of brandy' in the back room." The market owner had never exactly called his back room a pub or a bar. It was too small for that, but in fact, that was essentially what it was.

"Can I buy you something to warm up with?" Marcus offered, in a way of an apology for the young man ending up at the wrong end of Marcus's blasting spell.

"That's definitely one way to phrase it," Keiran replied, tone light considering the location and the reason for his being there. He had only just turned to look at the woman kneeling before one of the graves before lightning shot down and attempted to take out the nearest tree. His wand, tucked beneath his jacket and settled in his pocket, was too hard to get to in time to stop it, and Keiran felt the breath fly out of him in one startled exhale.

The name shouted was really what caught his attention, above the flying shards of wood (though he did lift his arm to protect his face and neck). Everyone knew that name, and unless it was spelled with a C and a singular A, it couldn't be anyone else.

Keiran was a bit lucky to have only been slapped in the arm with the tree bits that had flown around them, and was able to accept the cuts that Millie would undoubtedly find on his hands that night. He studied his fingers for a moment but nodded in reply when asked after how he was.

A slight hesitation and a glance in the direction of his father's grave was all Keiran could afford, suddenly. His thoughts had returned to the students, and the woman now standing before him. She was not as he had expected, though that hardly affected him. He had seen stranger things than someone hurt by what he would guess were werewolves. He felt a serious need to talk to her about what he was doing, but he had to wonder if she would actually approve. He wasn't the sort to truly know anything about her, after all. Not beyond what he had read, which he hardly dared trust.

"You're probably right," he conceded. "I hadn't planned to come, anyway. Honestly, I think dad would have chided me for being out in this weather, regardless of my trying to visit him." Shrugging a bit, good-naturedly, Keiran glanced the way of the market Khaat had pointed out, before offering a tight attempt at a smile. "If you get the first drinks, I'll get the next ones."

"Remus would have been muscling me out by now," Khaat said.  "Yes, let's go for one of John's proverbial 'short spots'."

They headed for John's small market, and when they got there, they went in quickly.  Khaat had almost forgotten the unusual ring of the three bells he had over the shop door.  The bells had a very tiny musical ring to them, and it was something that, as a child, she had enjoyed when Remus would have a reason to bring her here.

The market itself was almost empty today.

"Can I help you?" the graying shopkeeper asked.

"Is your hospitality available, John?" she asked quietly.  John looked at her, frowning. There was something familiar about the voice of the hooded figure.

"Do I know you?" he asked.  

"Its just me," she said, lowering her hood.  He looked stunned.

"Oh my word! Is it today? Can it be another year already?" he asked.  He came around the counter and wrapped her in a warm hug that she could only partly return. Her left arm did not move.   The shopkeeper dared to stroke her disfigured cheek.  "What would he say?" he sighed, looking at her.

"He had plenty of his own scars," she said.  "Maybe he wouldn't have said anything."

"Now, you know better," he said. "It was different when it was his own. Is that not why he gave you this?" He touched the green stone dangling around her neck.  

"It has its limits," she said.  "So, what's in your backroom today? Tea?"

"Tea, my eye," he snorted. "Lupins don't drink tea.  Not today. Go help yourself. Its on the house.  You know the way."  

She made her way to the back room with Marcus following her.  The room had a small bar in one corner, and a large stone fireplace. The rest of the room was a scattering of chairs and round tables.  

"I'll get it," Marcus said. "Let me get your cloak first."  He unfastened her cloak and removed it, draping it over his arm.  Then he fired a spell into the hearth to start a fire in the grate.  Then he got a bottle of firewhiskey and a stack of glasses.  She went over to a table not far from the fire and sat down.  

Marcus brought the bottle and poured drinks into the three glasses.  A loud, close crackle of lightning lit up the skies, and the wind began to blow up, completely eliminating all visibility out of the windows.

"Looks like we got in just in time," Marcus said.  He looked at the wizard with them. "I'm sorry, I've forgotten my manners.  I'm Marcus Belby, and this is my..friend, Khaat Lupin." He didn't presume everyone knew that he was her bodyguard. He simply introduced her as his friend, at least initially.

Keiran glanced up at the sound of the bells above the door, but his attention ended up focused on the conversation between the three standing before him. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so quiet around other people. With the school plans, he had been forced to be more open and less like his serious snake self.

Nodding in greeting to John as he passed, Keiran started after Khaat and her companion. Lightening shot down from the sky and caught his attention, even as he moved to sit across from Khaat, leaving the middle seat available.

Refusing to allow his gaze to linger on Khaat's injuries, Keiran looked to Marcus as he gave his name. "Keiran Hayes," he offered in turn. "I'm not sure you would have heard of me, though I daresay we all know of you," he directed the comment at Khaat.

"I taught Transfiguration at Hogwarts for a few years, until around New Year's." He added, wanting to give some sort of idea for them to go off of. Wary though he was to explain his departure, he hoped that - of anyone - these two could understand. If given any indication that his words would be taken well, he would definitely take the opportunity.

Realizing that his trip to the graveyard had never been explained, he felt a need to offer some reasoning. The problem, of course, was that he would be speaking against the Marriage Law in doing so, much like he wanted to go against the rules about half-breeds only moments before. So he decided to speak truthfully, but not bluntly.

"I'm sorry I interrupted your visit, by the way. I was heading to visit my father, personally. He was... Well, the lawyers believe he was murdered on Christmas Eve, though it's not been pinned on anyone." His brow furrowed in confusion and an attempt to cover up the hurt that still lingered. Blinking once, he put on a more calm and collected expression, glancing between his new acquaintances.

She smiled slightly when he recognized her. She was used to that. As the niece of Remus Lupin, she had been easily recognized almost from the day she was born.  Her family had seen to it that she had been brought up on a rural farm that was just about as far from Diagon Alley as it got. Now, though, she had gotten used to a whole new level of recognition.

"Mr. Hayes," she nodded.  "Hayes....hm...Are you related to Millie? My father's secretary? I had heard of a Professor Hayes at Hogwarts, but I don't often have cause to go to the school these days. Things have changed there lately, as you know. Not in ways Albus Dumbledore would have ever stood for, I'm sorry to say. I'd like to help but my hands seem a bit tied to fix the school at the moment."

She took a sip of her firewhiskey. It made her smile slightly. John kept the good stuff. Well, a few bottles anyway. Marcus apparently had enough discerning taste to not pick up the cheap crap. She liked the smooth smokiness that the good stuff had, and if she were drinking alcohol, she wasn't going to drink a sissy drink. It was going to be straight up firewhiskey, neat, uncomplicated, and it needed to be firewhiskey that was begging to be savored.

"You didn't interrupt my visit," she said.  "I was just coming to see my uncle. He wouldn't have been overjoyed that I'd gone there in this weather anyway.  I am sorry about your father. Some wounds just don't seem to heal, do they?  I presume the case is still open?"

"Ah, well," He began, a small smile curling his lips. "Technically, I am. But only recently. It was actually quite awkward, because we were matched through that law. To make matters worse, she was still my student. The age gap was... still is, sometimes, worrying."

Keiran nodded sagely, as if he knew everything in the world about the problems at Hogwarts. In truth, he probably only knew bits and pieces, but it certainly felt like he had been tossed more information than he knew what to do with. "Well, I resigned because of what happened with the new laws, admittedly. I felt like staying meant I supported everything going on there, when I can't. Millie's friends were affected by that, and a large number of my students had to leave because of it."

Looking between the two, Keiran had to wonder if the conversation would ever come back around to the laws. Immediately, he saw the potential of Khaat and Marcus supporting his endeavors, though he also was aware of the risk he would be taking. Steeling himself with a gulp of the drink Marcus had found and poured, Keiran took a deep breath before continuing. "Although it's not the best idea for me, considering Melissa is expecting twins soon, I've started housing the students that wish to have somewhere safe to stay. As dangerous as it is, I just try and keep Millie away from that home, and hopefully I can keep those kids safe, too."

At least, he mused belatedly, if something went wrong with these two, he hadn't given away the location. Clearly it wasn't at his own flat, because he had said Millie wasn't ever there unless she convinced him otherwise. Keiran wanted to be able to trust someone outside of the small circle he had knit for himself, but the times were trying, and things were getting messier by the day.

He glanced down briefly to look at his glass, but Khaat's words drew his attention once more. "It's been... tough. Not knowing seems worse than the truth sometimes, though I'm not sure I'll say that later. The case is still open, though the lawyers on the case seem to have their own issues, too. So it seems to be almost at a standstill at this point."

She sighed heavily, the mention of the laws raising her attention and her ire.  "The laws. The bloody new laws," she was frustrated. She was frustrated that they'd been passed in the first place, and she was frustrated that someone, probably Gideon Pierce or Ana Levski, had forged her father's name to them.

"Most asinine thing that's happened in a good long while, and the way they're written, the only person who can nullify them is my father. It doesn't even help if there is a new minister. It has to be my father, and he has to be in office.  If that doesn't happen, we're stuck with them forever. I've gone over them for months, and I've researched other statutes and case law. It seems to be locked up tight.

"It seems to me that two things need to happen.  Get my father well again, and get the great prick out of the ministry that's sent everything sideways. Personally, and I never said this, but I'd be just as happy if they closed that bloody school until they can let everyone in again."

She did know that her father had not been idle, and neither had she.  However, unless she had confederates that were trustworthy, she wasn't laying out anything that might jeopardize national security.  

"Its a damned good thing Remus isn't here to see this, actually," she said. "He'd be starting some underground bits, probably to protect the students caught up in this whole business.  And with werewolves being fairly low on the magical food chain these days, he'd have found himself facing an impossible task."

"Sometimes subterfuge is an excellent strategy, though," Marcus said, missing a bit of the espionage he used to do. The only time he got to do much of that these days was when Khaat leaped into something in true Remus "improvise-something-hopefully-brilliant" style.  Sometimes it worked for her, and sometimes not so much.  But her heart was pure Lupin and pure Gryffindor through and through. He liked that about her. It made her predictable to him, and that made his job infinitely easier. She was predictably impulsive about leaping into whatever she saw as the greater good.

"Indeed," she said, glancing at him and giving him a mischevious look.

"Behave yourself," he shook his finger at her, grinning. "I know that look. Thank God there are no projects for you to leap off about right now because I don't think I could stop you."

Keiran's eyebrow lifted at Khaat's words, wondering how the topic change had gone so spectacularly in his favor. Even with Marcus's warning about the idea of such a project, Keiran was thrilled at the chance he had been given to get the word out to someone who could perhaps help in the end. A small smile worked its way onto his face before be could stop it.

"It's interesting that you should say that. After quitting Hogwarts, I realized how very little those kids would have. I off-handededly mentioned to Melissa that I should just start some hidden school. After a little push from her, and once the kids moved in, I gathered a few folks to help teach them what we feel will help them. We also have a few recent graduates helping, even though they're not affected by the law.

"I'm half waiting for the Ministry to figure us out, or for James or some other pack leader to do the same, and just burst down the door. Even with the half dozen or so adults there, we're just lucky we have Jack to divert any issues with the students using magic. Without her, the Trace would've caught us much sooner. At this point, we're just trying to lay low."

Keiran shook his head, trying to organize his thoughts. Things had gone tipsy in a matter of weeks and he wasn't quite sure how to level everything out again. "It's not my best plan, compared to past ones, but I couldn't say no. And I can't take it back now. We have plans to get them out if need be -- places for them to go. The worst bit, though, is probably the fact that I can't explain most of what goes on to my wife. This isn't some summer camp. It's practically a betrayal of the Ministry, and I'll sooner let them take me than let her get involved. To say it causes a rift... Would be a massive understatement. Everything has just fallen apart."