A/N: And here we have the second part of Hogwarts very own Hospital Drama. *g* I promise, it is winding in the general direction of getting to the point…;)
9: Marked
It soon became clear to Remus that he was not going to get any sleep. After a tray of nourishing food provided by Poppy had been gratefully, if carefully consumed, he had attempted, at her insistence to close his eyes and drop back into torpor. But his mind was far too full of whirling thoughts and tangled emotions to allow the relief of sleep to interfere “ after a half-hour’s hopeless trying, Remus had given up and plaintively requested a book.
Poppy had not been impressed. But nonetheless, she had generously offered to take a quick trip up to the library to see what she could find. Remus had not concealed his gratitude.
Anything that would keep him from thinking.
He scolded himself sharply. There was no point to this. Until he spoke with his father tomorrow, he could not know whether or not there was any truth to the mockery of Abraham Kane. There was no point in troubling himself with it. None whatsoever. He should stop thinking about it altogether. Shut down his mind. Concentrate on something else. He should. He really should.
Where was Poppy with that book?
A knock at the Infirmary door roused him from his turbulent thoughts “ desperately he seized on the distraction. “Yes?”
The rainbow-streaked head of Nymphadora Tonks peered around the corner, smiling to see her friend awake.
“Is it safe to come in?” The young Auror gave a cheeky grin as she stepped inside. “Dawlish said there was a mad harpy in here raving about werewolf rights.”
“Patient rights, more like it!” Tonks jumped a good foot in the air as Poppy appeared behind her, clutching a book under one arm as she swept back into her domain. “Mad harpy indeed!” she sniffed, depositing the book on Remus’ bedside table with a thump. “The nerve of that man! He’d best pray he’s never a patient of mine!”
Remus and Tonks exchanged a grin as they watched the indignant matron set about ruthlessly tidying the werewolf’s pile of gifts. The Metamorphmagus glanced around the Hospital Wing with a nostalgic smile.
“Strange being back here again,” she declared, depositing herself at the foot of Remus’ bed and helping herself to a chocolate. “I must have spent half my education in this room.”
“Indeed.” Poppy arranged the largest bunch of flowers in a sturdy vase on the tabletop, brushing stray petals from the surface absently. “Aside from Remus himself, I’m not sure I’ve ever had a more frequent patient!”
“Never mind, Madam Pomfrey.” Tonks gave her a broad smile. “I’ve learned a few first aid spells since then. I don’t need you to patch me up any more.”
“So I understand.” Remus smiled too as he pulled himself into a sitting position once more, ignoring Poppy’s tisk of disapproval. “From what Poppy tells me, I owe you my life.”
Tonks blushed sharply. “Don’t be daft, Remus,” she muttered, staring down at the bedspread intensely. “It was just a little spell, all in a day’s work for an Auror. Madam Pomfrey was the one who fixed you.”
Remus caught her gaze and held it. “Nonetheless, that little spell gave her time to do so,” he said sincerely. “Thank you, Tonks.”
The young woman waved a dismissive hand, her cheeks still scarlet. “Oh, don’t make a fuss. It was nothing, really. Anyway, that’s not why I’m here.”
Remus smiled. “So why are you here?” He spotted her hand drifting once more in the direction of the chocolate tray. “To eat my chocolates?”
She snatched her hand back at once. “Sorry!”
Remus laughed outright, ignoring the twinge of pain in his throat at the action. “Help yourself. In fact take the box. You’ve earned it.”
The blush had returned. She screwed up her nose slightly. “You sure? I mean, they’re yours…”
“Trust me, I’ve got plenty.” Remus gestured to the bed. “Besides, if I tried to eat that mountain alone, I’d end up the size of a dragon. Take it.”
Tonks’ smile returned; gratefully she picked up the box and popped another sweet inside her mouth. “Thanks, Remus. I haven’t had a chance to grab supper yet. Dawlish has had us running back and forth like headless Hippogriffs all afternoon.”
The conversation he had overheard earlier that evening returned in a rush “I heard him say earlier that a man had died. Is that true?”
The Metamorphmagus sighed. “Afraid so. A local man. He came running out the Post Office when he heard the window smash and got right in Kane’s way when he went for the alley. Slit his throat in one slash, dead before he hit the floor. Poor sod didn’t stand a chance.”
A figure slumping to the cobbles as Kane dashed away into darkness… Remus felt a sharp stab of guilt. If he hadn’t hesitated, if he hadn’t been so shocked when Kane had known his name…
Tonks must have guessed his thoughts, or some part of them “ a gentle hand rested against his wrist soothingly. “It wasn’t your fault, mate. You did everything you could to stop him. The bloke just got in the way.”
Remus shook his head and winced at the ache in his neck that resulted. “He… surprised me. I hesitated. I could have stopped him there and then if I’d just…”
“Oi. Enough.” Tonks was regarding him sternly. “You’ve been beaten up enough for one day. You saved Harry. Just remember that.”
Remus twisted his lip. “Actually, Hermione…”
“…Responded to your warning. And she only slowed him down. You’re the one who spotted the danger. You’re the one who hit him with enough force to stop him cold. You’re the one who went after him and held him up enough that it was only sheer massed Auror stupidity that meant he got away.”
“By getting my throat ripped out.” Remus felt obliged to point this out. “There’s an important life lesson there for you, Tonks. Never kick a feral in the stomach when he’s got his claws sunk in your neck.”
Instead of rolling her eyes as he expected, Tonks looked vaguely impressed. “You kicked him?”
Remus sighed. “Bloody stupid of me, really. I thought I could get clear but of course he was quicker than me. It was suicide in all but name.”
“Yeah but with due respect, Remus,” Tonks offered him the chocolate tray and he took one gratefully, peeling off the orange wrapper. “If you hadn’t kicked him, he’d probably just have torn out your windpipe and scarpered anyway, and done the kind of job on it that even Poppy couldn’t fix.” She grinned. “A real win-win situation you got yourself into.”
Remus smiled in spite of himself. “True.”
“Anyway,” Tonks declared, cheerily depositing the chocolates on the bedspread beside her and reaching into the pocket of her robes to draw out a pad and quill.
“According to his Right-Royal-Pain-In-The-Arsiness Dawlish, I am supposed to interview the dreadful werewolf teacher ruthlessly until he cracks and reveals his involvement with the feral Kane. You up for it?” She asked brightly. “I promise not to hurt you too much if you play nice and confess your terrible misdeeds up front. Honestly, that Dawlish.” She shook her head disdainfully. “What a pillock.”
Remus felt a cold chill. So much for his distraction.
He did his best to sound casual. “If you want. Though you’ll have to bear with me. I’m still a little hoarse.”
There was a streak of pure mischief in Tonks’ expression. “Course you aren’t a little horse. You’re a werewolf, mate. You sure you didn’t take a blow to the head?”
Remus fought desperately not to smile. “You’re a funny woman, Nymphadora.”
“Hey!” A projectile chocolate bounced off his forehead. “There’s no need for that! Come on, let’s do this then maybe we can both get some sleep.”
And so the interview commenced. Remus had very quickly decided that he would be entirely honest in all but one thing “ he excluded all mention of any connection between either himself or his father and Kane. It was not something he wanted on the record until he had had a chance to sort out for himself what it all meant.
“He knew who you were?” Tonks inquired at one point, as he described Kane’s appearance in the window. Remus silently cursed himself for his slip of the tongue.
“Hermione had just called me by name and he was well within earshot,” he pointed out quickly. “And I’m sure Oldstaff would have briefed him about known Order members.”
Tonks pulled a face. “I’m not sure I should put that in my report. You’ve been in the paper lately though, haven’t you? Tell you what, I’ll put he said he got your name from there. Save us both some hassle.”
Remus smiled with genuine gratitude.
They soon moved on to the events of the alley “ Remus found himself waging an internal war as to just how much of what had proved to be an extremely personal conversation he dared reveal. There was almost no part of that exchange of words beyond the first salvo that he was willing to reveal to a Ministry Auror; but to a trusted friend and fellow Order member?
“Look Tonks,” he said finally, making sure that Poppy was well out of the way in her office before he spoke. “If I tell you what was said, I’m telling you as an Order member and I want it kept off the record. All right?”
Tonks immediately dropped her pad and quill. She grinned. “Ooops! Clumsy me! Talk quick before I manage to pick them up.”
He did not mention his father or any secrets he might have. He did not mention the implied reference to his feral incident. He did not mention that Kane had called him family. But he did mention the offer.
“He tried to turn you?” Tonks was staring at him in stunned disbelief. “You, of all people?”
“He saw me at The Howling,” Remus admitted. “I don’t know why he remembered my face, but he did. And I could hardly tell him I was there on business for the Order of the Phoenix.”
“Ouch.” Tonks frowned. “But he must have thought you were viable, or he wouldn’t have risked it. Do you think Voldemort suggested it? Wants you on his side, maybe? A feral with the memories of a senior Order of the Phoenix member would be pretty valuable to him.”
The thought made Remus shudder. That was very true. “I’ve no idea,” he said honestly. “But it’s possible. It may be that Kane has told the Death Eaters I was in The Howling for several nights. They know about Sirius. They might believe I’ve cracked up from the grief and gone in search of my inner wolf.”
Tonks sighed. “Do you want me to pass this on to the others?”
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t spread it around. Just tell Dumbledore. Let him decide who to share it with.”
“Right.” Tonks picked up her writing tools once more. “Back to being an Auror. What do we tell my quill?”
“Say he threatened me. And that he admitted working for Voldemort. It’s true after all.”
“Right you are.” Tonks scribbled for a few moments. “I’ll just use my imagination, if you don’t mind. There.” She passed him the notebook. “How does that sound?”
Remus nodded and passed it back. “Good.”
“Great. Now, what was it you were saying earlier about kicking him? I want to hear that bit.”
The interview lasted another ten minutes or so before Poppy emerged from her office and scolded Tonks thoroughly for tiring her patient. Since the interview was pretty much over, Tonks gathered her notebook, quill and box of chocolates and much to Remus’ surprise, gave him a brief peck on the forehead as she made her escape from Poppy’s wrath. He watched her go with a smile.
“Honestly!” Poppy bustled around, tidying away the chocolate wrappers. “After all you’ve been through today, you should be resting that throat, not talking it to exhaustion. Nymphadora Tonks should have known better. Now settle yourself back down and get some sleep!”
“Ummm…” Remus would have been happy to oblige but there was one small matter that needed to be taken care of first. “Poppy, may I use the bathroom?”
From the look that the matron pinned him with, he might as well have asked if he could dance naked down Diagon Alley leading a conga-line of kappas and hinkypunks whilst playing the tambourine. The curt little nod she finally offered was the most grudging he had ever seen. Before she could change her mind, Remus flung off his bedclothes and moved stiffly but hurriedly towards the bathroom door.
* * *
Remus stared into the mirror. His mirror self stared back.
He was glad that the bathroom mirror of the Hogwarts Hospital Wing was not the kind enchanted to talk back. He didn’t need to be told how dreadful he looked.
Remus had never been the type to linger in front of mirrors “ he had neither the money nor the inclination to be fussy about his appearance. But he couldn’t help but note that his hair was threaded with a great deal more silver than it had been the last time he had taken the trouble to regard it with more than a passing glance; his skin was paler and more creased, his features tired and almost gaunt, his eyes hollow. The weight of the years and the monthly strain of thirty-four years of transformations had certainly taken their toll. He was marked by his life in more ways than one.
He had never been an Adonis in the first place, even in his youth “ pragmatic as always, he had to admit he had not had a great deal of looks to lose. Sirius had held the honours and the lion’s share of female attention in that category, and James’ Quidditch athleticism had meant that he too had rarely been lonely. Even Peter had possessed what he had heard referred to as “a kind of chubby cuteness” that certain types of girl seemed to appreciate. But Remus “ slight, pale, unremarkable “ had tended to keep thoroughly out of the spotlight. When harbouring such a secret as his, drawing attention to himself would not have been a wise idea, so perhaps a certain ordinariness of appearance had all been for the best.
He had dated, a few times. But most of his relationships tended to stall and peter out under the strain of what Sirius had rather mockingly christened “Moony’s Eternal Question” when he had explained the problem the year before “ at what point in a relationship do you tell a girl that you’re a werewolf? At the beginning and risk disdain or worse, widespread exposure? Or later and be branded a liar and deceiver? He had tried both ways and had yet to discover a satisfactory answer. He suspected one didn’t exist.
Sirius had kindly pointed out that most people were aware of his condition now anyway, so what did it matter? Remus had acknowledged this but felt obliged to note that he had hardly been beating the ladies away with a stick ever since.
Not that being single bothered him, really. It just might’ve been nice to have had an alternative.
He was brooding again. He had promised himself he would stop that.
Grimly his eyes were drawn to the five violent streaks of red that burned fitfully against his throat. More scars to add to his collection. Yet more marks of his unusual life. Tenderly he touched a finger to the aching red raw flesh “ if this was healed, as Poppy had suggested, how bad had it been at the time? “ and shivered at the memory of how he had come by them. Yet in spite of Tonks’ assertion that Kane would most likely have killed him anyway, he couldn’t help but wonder “ what would have happened if the Aurors hadn’t come, if he hadn’t lashed out and forced Kane into harming him? Having taken such an apparent interest in him, would the feral have spared his life? Or would he now be lying dead beside the local man from Hogsmeade?
He examined the wounds almost clinically “ four harsh horizontal streaks along one side of his neck, and one deep, raw gouge across the other, running several inches long where the feral’s claws had sliced into him and dragged as he was thrust away. He had been fortunate until now “ most of his worst scars had tended to be out of sight beneath his robes or above the hairline “ but these were quite spectacularly noticeable. Oh well, it would make a fine talking point for dinner conversation, were he ever to be invited out. Oh these? I had my throat ripped out by a feral werewolf. Pass the salt, would you?
His finger touched upon an older twist of scar tissue “ Remus hesitated. Ah yes, his old friends, a scattered ring of puncture scars that circled his lower throat just beneath his eye-drawing new injuries, a cluster of four that lingered on the boundary between throat and chest and a single alone towards the back of his neck. His father had told him that they had picked them up during his first full moon with the wolf. He had always managed to conceal them quite well beneath his neckline, unlike their fresher companions. The poor things were quite overshadowed now…
The thought tailed off. Remus stared.
Realisation struck as he looked, really looked, for the first time at one of his oldest collections of scars. How had he not noticed it before?
A ring of five scars around his neck. Too numerous and spaced far too widely to have been caused by the stab of any wolfish paw. But, as recent experience played testament to, exactly right for the grasp of five clawed fingers around a youthful throat.
His finger traced the line of the scars, old and new. His free hand drifted to his left side.
He had implied that they had met before.
No.
Surely not. Not him.
Someone would have told him.
Wouldn’t they?
It would explain a lot. Too much, in fact. Except for why.
Remus felt ill. Oh Merlin.
It was a good thing his father was coming the next morning. He would have been rather weak to make the trip to his home that would now have been completely unavoidable. Remus had a cold, dark feeling that a great deal more lay beyond the wall in his mind than even he had expected.
Poppy was calling to him. How long he’d been staring into the mirror, Remus was unsure. He knew only one thing now for certain.
Enough was enough. He would be oblivious no longer. He wanted answers.
And one way or another, he was going to get them.
A/N: Apologies for the delay on this chapter arriving. I was going to post on Christmas Eve but I didn’t realise into I dropped in at the site that they were postponing downloads until after Christmas.