The Truth Comes Out

Chapter 7: The Truth Comes Out

I heard running footsteps, urgent voices. Strong hands lifted me, and I wanted to protest that I liked the cool floor just fine, thank you; it felt quite good on my aching head. Then something cold was pressed against my forehead, and I reluctantly opened my eyes. I was stretched out on the couch in the sitting room, and Molly Weasley was perched beside me.

"There now, that feels better, doesn't it?"

The gaslights, which had seemed dim before, now acted like searchlights trained directly on my face, and I grimaced. I reached up to probe at my scalp and found two good-sized goose eggs, one from the fall down the stairs and the other from the marble-topped table.

"The painting was screaming at me," I mumbled.

Molly clucked her tongue sympathetically. "That was Mrs. Black, dear. She really doesn't like us much."

I heard someone sniff loudly from the other side of the room, and I painfully turned my head to check out the source. Hermione was standing by the door, wringing her hands and looking tearful. Remus stood next to her, arms crossed and a despondent expression on his face.

Remus.

I remembered suddenly why I had my double headache, and my stomach churned in response. I shut my eyes once more. "Could Remus and I be alone, please?"

"Of course." Molly rose from the sofa at once. "I'll see if I can find something for your head."

I heard footsteps heading out into the hall, accompanied by Molly's remonstrations and Hermione's sniffles. Remus came over to take her place. I struggled to sit up.

"No, no," he objected, trying to push me back down. "You should lie down, Kailin."

"I don't want to lie down. I want to sit up." I managed to get upright, and the cold cloth on my forehead plopped into my lap. It vaguely registered that the ice-cold cloth was not wet in the least, and I supposed there was some sort of freezing charm witches used to make it that way. The difference between the Muggle world and the wizarding world, I realized, was not just a chasm: it was an abyss.

Remus regarded me, his face a mask of misery. "I'm so sorry," he said hoarsely. "I never intended for you to find out this way."

"And just how did you intend for me to find out?"

"I planned to tell you tonight. After the meeting," he added, gesturing uselessly in the direction of the stairs.

"I see. And do you have any more revelations for me?" I asked faintly.

Remus shook his head.

"So..." I inhaled deeply, trying to think clearly despite my pounding headache. "There are such things as werewolves. And you are..."

"...a werewolf," he whispered.

I began to laugh, a hysterical, hurting kind of laughter that had absolutely nothing to do with humor. "I've fallen in love with a werewolf," I gasped, waiting in vain for the bright side of all this to appear. Well, I'd wanted an adventure in England. It seemed I had found one.

Remus didn't answer. He stared at the floor as if hoping to see the answer to his problems written there. "Kailin, I'm so sorry," he muttered once more. "Bloody hell, I should never have rung you up after we met at King's Cross."

I wasn't in the mood to listen to his self-recrimination. "Can you please just start at the beginning and tell me what all this means?"

He hesitated. "It means that once a month, when the moon is full, I transform into a werewolf. I was bitten when I was only seven, you see. My parents had rented a house in the country one summer; I wandered away from the house during a full moon and was bitten. There's no cure."

"Do you... go around biting people?"

"I've never bitten anyone. Never," he assured me quickly. "Every month, I would be locked up in a safe place where I couldn't possibly hurt anyone. The only person I could hurt was myself -- which, unfortunately, I would do on a regular basis. I spent a bit of time in Hogwarts' infirmary, I'm sad to say."

"Why?" I asked sharply.

"With no one around to attack, I would turn on myself. Biting, scratching..." Remus' voice trailed off.

"You mutilated yourself?" I was incredulous.

He didn't answer directly. "Nowadays, thank God, there's the Wolfsbane Potion. I still transform, but I keep my mind and my wits about me. It's not like the old days. I don't feel the --" Remus hesitated and then forced out two words as though it was the most painful thing he'd ever said: "-- the bloodlust."

Bloodlust. I felt completely numb inside now. But Remus wasn't finished.

"What this means," he said, turning to look me in the face, "is that I'm virtually a pauper. There's a law, you see, that makes it almost impossible for me to find work. No one will hire me. My teaching stint at Hogwarts was one of the few real jobs I've ever had, and that ended because word of my condition got out. By wizarding standards, I'm considered to be a half-breed. I live in a room in Ministry-supported welfare housing, and every month, I get a Ministry dole. In short, I'm nothing, Kailin."

I thought of Hermione's righteous anger. Tears filled my eyes and spilled over onto my cheeks. "So -- that explains why -- uh -- you never spent a lot of money on our dates --"

"Right. I'm... pretty well flat broke."

"You -- live in welfare housing, you said?" Remus had never told me where he lived, other than to say that he had a room somewhere. I swiped at my cheeks, not wanting to cry. I had the feeling my headache would be much the worse for it.

"Yes. My room is quite small, but then I don't own very much." Remus' smile was so faint as to be nearly nonexistent.

I buried my face in my hands and tried to think. We sat side by side, not speaking, until Molly Weasley returned and knocked softly on the door frame. I sat up and dabbed at my cheeks once more. I couldn't help but notice that Remus was doing the same thing.

"I found a Soothing Potion for you, Kailin," she said, looking terribly apologetic for interrupting us. "This'll put your headache to rights."

I eyed the glass she held and wondered what it would do to my unsteady stomach. It wasn't likely, I thought, that potions came in cherry or grape flavors. "Thank you," I said, taking the glass from her and sipping tentatively. The liquid within tasted somewhat herbal, and I was relieved to find that it seemed content to stay down. I downed the rest of it in three gulps, and remarkably, my headache began to change from a throbbing pain to a dull ache.

"I've ruined your meeting, haven't I?" I muttered.

"Not at all," said Molly. "They're still going strong downstairs."

"Oh." I glanced at Remus. "You should probably get back then."

"Absolutely not," he said firmly. "I'm seeing you home first. I'm sure someone will fill me in later."

We left number twelve Grimmauld Place a few minutes later, both of us quiet and subdued. The trip home seemed to take forever. While my head felt better, my throat was now scratchy and raw, and I wondered if the Soothing Potion was responsible. By the time we arrived at my flat, all I wanted in life was to crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head.

"Would you like to come in?" I asked without much enthusiasm.

Remus seemed to sense that my invitation was mere formality. "I think I'd better go."

I nodded. "I'm going straight to bed, I think."

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"In what way?" I joked feebly. "Physically, mentally, emotionally? Doesn't matter. I think the answer to all of them is probably the same."

"I hate to leave you like this, Kailin."

"I'll be all right. That potion Molly gave me was quite impressive. As for the rest of me," I said, sagging against the doorframe, "I honestly don't know."

"Tell me what you want. I'll leave and never come back if that's what you want me to do. Or I'll give you however long you want to think about it. Just -- just don't lead me on. Don't tell me everything's grand when it's not. I'm not naïve." He smiled, a sickly travesty of the real thing. "I'm quite used to rejection, actually. I suppose I'm to the point in life where I thrive on it."

I was horrified. "Don't be ridiculous," I said. "I wouldn't--"

"I know," he interrupted, "you wouldn't dream of treating me that way. I've heard that far too many times."

I fell silent, aware that I was quite out of my depth here. Remus shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Look," he said quietly, "the smart thing to do would be for you to go back to the States and forget about me. You deserve a -- an investment banker or a barrister, and a fine big home in the suburbs. I can give you nothing, Kailin. Nothing."

A lump the size of Texas rose in my throat, and I found myself on the verge of tears once more. Part of me yearned to tell him that he was wrong, but I couldn't play the hopeless romantic anymore. Any innocence I'd had in that regard was now dead and gone.

"You can give me some time," I ventured.

"All right. Tell me how long."

"I don't know. A week, I guess." It would be the longest period we'd gone without seeing each other. "I don't know how long it takes to think about something like this. I've never had to do it before."

"Of course. I'll be back in touch with you a week from today."

I nodded wordless agreement.

"Goodbye then, Kailin." Remus started to walk away, and immediately my heart cried out in revolt.

"Wait," I said, and he turned back to look at me. "Could you hold me? Please? I could really use a hug right now."

Remus looked startled, and I wondered if he found it surprising that I still wanted him to touch me. At once he enfolded me into his arms and buried his face in my hair, stroking it gently. "Kailin..." he whispered moments later, his voice a choked whisper. "God, Kailin, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

Sobbing was a bad idea, I discovered; it made my head start throbbing once more. I managed to rein in my emotions after a few moments, but I stayed in his arms, content to let the tears stream quietly. "Remus..."

"Yes?"

"Please don't be too angry with Hermione. She honestly had no idea."

"I know."

"And Remus..."

He waited.

"I still love you," I said. "I just -- I just don't know --"

"I know," he said hoarsely. "I know."

And I was sure that he did.

* * *

It was not a good night.

My dreams were populated with elves who went about my house cleaning and singing "Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf", while numerous letters from my dead parents, asking me to come home to America, appeared in the mail. The mail carrier himself had an owl perched on his shoulder, and he winked at me knowingly every time he came to the door, assuring me that he wouldn't tell a soul about magic. As a result, I spent eight hours in an endless cycle of nightmares and drowsy semi-awareness. When I awoke the next morning, my throat hurt, my whole body ached, and my nose was running like a sieve. I'd managed to snag a summer cold, one of my least favorite things in the whole world. I'm not normally a person who likes to linger in bed even with a cold, but on this day I couldn't find the energy to crawl out from under the blankets.

Then there was the matter of the two-ton weight that seemed to be crushing my heart, a discomfort totally unrelated to the virus running rampant in my sinuses. Another really good cry would have helped, but I had already cried buckets, and to continue would have swollen my nasal passages to the point where I'd be unable to breathe at all. I settled for staring listlessly out the window and trying to think -- or not think -- about the whole situation.

I was the self-proclaimed adrenaline junkie, I reminded myself. So why had this news hit me like a ton of bricks? To all appearances, Remus Lupin was the perfect man -- not that I expected perfection from any man. And I could understand why "Guess what, I'm a werewolf" hadn't been the first words out of his mouth. Easing me into the wizarding world before breaking the news of Voldemort or his own condition made sense.

Maybe it was the idea that I was in love with a penniless, unemployed man. I told myself that I was certainly more open-minded that that. Still, I had to admit that if I'd known up front that Remus was on welfare, I might not have been so interested in pursuing the relationship.

Finally, I decided that I simply had no frame of reference to know how to deal with loving a werewolf. My knowledge of the wizarding world was still so new, it was hard to put everything in some sort of context.

I'd been staring at the mockingly bright sunshine outside for the better part of an hour when there was a knock at my door. I found my robe and struggled into it, finally making it to the front door by the third time the visitor knocked. Somewhere between the bed and the door, I'd remembered Remus' warning about Death Eaters and me being a target by virtue of my association with him, so I cautiously opened the door just a crack. Not that I would have had a clue what to do if it had been a dark wizard, of course -- unless I could have run them off with a good fit of sneezing my germs on them. As it turned out, it was not a dark wizard at all, but Molly Weasley.

"Molly! Good morning," I said, trying to sound cheerfully normal.

"Remus told me where you lived. Thought I'd pop round to see how you were doing and bring you some more Soothing Potion," she said. "How's the head?"

"Eclipsed by the nose, I'm afraid." It was no use trying to pretend otherwise. My red nose and watery eyes were a dead giveaway. "Please, come in."

"Oh, dear. You have a beastly cold as well, don't you? I'll need to get you some Pepper-Up Potion. Do you mind if I just Apparate back?"

I stared at her, understanding absolutely nothing she said past the part about the beastly cold. "Uh..."

"No? Fine, I'll be right back."

And Molly vanished with a pop, leaving me staring open-mouthed at the spot where she had been standing. Was that Operating, or whatever she had called it? And what was Pepper-Up Potion? If it was anything as effective as last night's Soothing Potion, I hoped she'd return with a gallon jug of the stuff. I closed the door and went to wait on the sofa, my box of tissues close at hand. Several minutes later, there was a loud pop behind me: Molly had returned directly to my living room, bypassing the front door entirely.

"Here we go. Do you have a glass?"

Caught in mid-sneeze, I motioned in the direction of the kitchen with one hand and grabbed for the Kleenex box with the other. I could hear Molly rummaging through my cabinets while I tried to find some skin around my nose that wasn't already sore to the touch.

"Have you heard from Remus today?" she called.

"No. We agreed not to see each other for a week while I sort through everything."

"That's a good idea. You need a little space now and then. I just wondered if he has the cold, too."

I didn't say anything. I was gloomily wondering what werewolves did when their noses ran.

Molly reappeared, a teacup in her hands. "This'll do," she said and poured bits of both potions into it. Clouds of steam rose from the cup, steam I wasn't sure had anything to do with the temperature of the liquid. I was feeling too miserable to care and decided that if the stuff ate holes in my esophagus, I'd just have to deal with it. I drank it down as quickly as I could. Almost immediately, it felt like small bursts of flame were shooting throughout various parts of my body. The only thing I could compare it to was the time I had adventurously downed a shot of whiskey in one gulp -- although I soon realized that I felt a heck of a lot better now than I had on that occasion.

"That's the ticket!" she cried, and I wondered from the approving tone in her voice if my skin was turning some horrific shade of red. "Have you had anything to eat today?"

"Well, no,--"

"Then let me make you a spot of tea."

"You're don't have to do that," I protested. "You're my guest."

"Don't be silly. I'm not a guest, you didn't invite me, now did you? I'll make the tea, and you lean back against that lovely fat pillow and relax."

Molly disappeared into the kitchen again, and soon I heard the sound of water running into my tea kettle. "Arthur's fascinated by Muggle technology, you know, so I've picked up quite a bit of information from him. Your heating thing, here: do I turn the whatsit to the left or right? And about how far?"

I had visions of the flat going up in flames; I hoped my landlord carried ample insurance.

"To the right, and about halfway."

"Right," she said happily. A few moments later, she reappeared. "Takes a while this way, doesn't it?"

I sneezed in response. Meanwhile, Molly was making herself at home on the sofa, undaunted by the number of used tissues that were scattered about. I remembered the number of red-haired children at Grimmauld Place the previous evening and thought that only a mother could disregard germ-ridden clutter so effectively.

"Tell me about yourself, Kailin. We didn't get to chat much at Diagon Alley the other day."

Despite the Pepper-Up Potion, my sore throat still wasn't conducive to spending much time talking. I gave her a condensed version of my life and how I happened to be in Britain, then turned the tables on her so my throat could rest.

Molly, as I had guessed, needed little encouragement to talk. She told me how she and Arthur had met at Hogwarts; about the educational and professional achievements of all her children, although the twins had chosen another path entirely and she still wasn't convinced they would do well by it; and by the time she was describing the home she referred to as the Burrow, the teakettle was whistling its readiness.

We were sipping our tea and munching on the biscuits Molly had found lurking in my pantry when she finally got around to what was probably the main purpose of her visit.

"About Remus, Kailin..."

We'd skirted the issue thus far. Her visit had provided enough distraction that my emotional distress had faded a bit, and I wasn't eager to jump back into the fray. To my relief, Molly seemed to sense this.

"...I know you are struggling with everything you've learned about him, --"

"Not just him," I assured her. "About your world in general."

"Of course. That's as it should be. It wouldn't be normal if you weren't totally shocked or appalled or something. It's just that... well... Remus Lupin is one of the finest people I know," Molly said, her usually lively eyes now quiet and hopeful. "If you decide that you can't accept him as he is, please let him down kindly. He's lived a terribly hard life, and kindness is the very least he deserves."

I nodded, unable to speak because those blasted tears were back, welling up so suddenly and spilling over so rapidly that I was caught completely unawares. My defences weren't just down, I realized, they were completely missing in action. Mother-hen Molly pulled me into her arms and cradled me like one of her red-headed chicks.

"He's the most wonderful man I've ever known," I sputtered between sobs. "I don't know what to do, Molly!"

"Of course you don't," she said soothingly. "Things will sort themselves out, Kailin. You wait and see."

There are some people you can know for years and yet they still feel like virtual strangers. Then there are those, and Molly Weasley is one, whom you can know for less than forty-eight hours and they feel like family. So I wasn't surprised at all when she told me to pack a bag because she was taking me to the Burrow for a rest.

It was tempting. The idea of sitting around my flat for a week, surrounded by constant reminders of Remus, was not a terribly appealing prospect. There was truly nothing to keep me here. And just maybe, I would acquire more insight into the wizarding world.

"That's very nice of you, Molly. Are you sure? I don't want to be an inconvenience."

"Don't be silly. You're not an inconvenience. It'll be lovely having a visitor."

"Do I take a cab to get there, or the Tube?"

Molly burst out laughing. "I forgot to tell you, didn't I? The Burrow is in Devon."

"Oh." I felt less certain now. Molly's home was some distance away, and I truly didn't feel like dealing with travel just now.

"I know there's a Muggle train that goes nearby," she went on. "It stops in Feniton, and from there you could take a taxi."

I didn't have the heart to say no. She looked so enthused that I suspected that it was just easier to do it. "Well... All right. Feniton, you said?"

"That's right. I'll write down the directions for the taxi driver, once you've reached Feniton."

So I would be spending some time in Devon, it seemed. I consulted my trusty travel guide to the British Isles and found that I could catch an afternoon train if I got a move on. I threw some clothes into my backpack, along with an ample supply of tissues, and closed up the flat.