A/N: If this chapter seems a little uneventful, it is because it is yet another victim of my utter inability to be concise. Chapters 8, 9 and 10 were originally supposed to be one single part but I got carried away yet again and 15 pages to one chapter seemed like overkill. Hence, a three way split. ;)
8: A Little Time to Heal
The first thing Remus heard as he drifted back in the direction of consciousness was the sound of raised voices. The hard ground of the alleyway was gone; as feeling returned to his body, he could feel the familiar crisp softness of sheets he knew too well, a sense of warmth spilled from a crackling fire and the distant, irate tones of an indignant Poppy Pomfrey. The Hospital Wing. He had woken here too many times in his youth to mistake it.
Well, at least he was alive. That was something.
His throat was aching badly, wrapped in a swath of bandage by the feel of it, but it was nothing like the agonising throb of freshly torn flesh that had driven him into unconsciousness in the first place. He risked a deeper breath and found he could. He was sore certainly â“ though after having oneâs throat all but ripped out by a raging feral, thatwas hardly surprising â“ but there did not appear to have been any permanent damage. A few scars to add to his collection perhaps, but against the backdrop of years of full moon self-abuse, a few more marks against his skin were negligible.
âAbsolutely not!â The tone of Poppyâs voice was immediately familiar â“ it was the manner she reserved for expelling those who might disturb her patients from her Matronly Domain. âHe hasnât regained consciousness yet and I will not have you disturb him!â
Ah yes. Spot on with the tone.
âMadam, a man died in Hogsmeade today.â The brisk voice that cut across the air was unfamiliar. âI merely wish to question one of the principle witnesses.â
âYouâve spoken with enough witnesses, Mr Dawlish. A street full of them.â Poppyâs voice was sharp and steely, a blade waiting to be swung. âAnd the state he was in when I arrived in that alley, you could have had two bodies on your hands. Leave him be!â
Remus could almost sense as the invisible Mr Dawlish drew himself up in the face of the imposing fury of Poppy Pomfrey. âMr â“ sorry, Professor Lupin was, according to all accounts, the first to see the feral and the one who allowed him to escape. Twice. He was also alone with him for several minutes before my Auror squads arrived. I merely wish to establish what they were â“ ahem - discussingâŚâ
He was patronising her. Mr Dawlish, an Auror by the sounds of it, was patronising Poppy Pomfrey. And Aurors were supposed to have good instincts. Oh dear.
The blade swung, cutting off his sentence. âAre you implying something?â
Remus could almost hear Dawlishâs mouth snap closed. He could imagine the hawk-like expression on the matronâs face. He struggled to suppress the smile that would expose his feigned unconsciousness.
âBecause if you are implying something,â Poppy was building up momentum rapidly. âI will have you out of this school quicker that you can say delusional! I have known that young man in there since he was eleven years old and I can safely say that he hasnât an evil bone in his body! How dare you wander into his sickroom after he risked his life for those children and make such insinuations? At least he did something! He didnât stand on Hogsmeade High Street and send his colleagues into danger whilst he waited in safety! Werewolf or not, heâs a better man that you!â
Merlin bless Poppy Pomfrey! If she wasnât his parentsâ age, he might have married her. The smile was getting harder to conceal.
The deep rumble of Kingsley Shacklebolt intervened to restore order â“ Remus hadnât even realised he was present.
âDawlish, I think it is fairly obvious from what the children said that Lupin was trying to help. He probably saved Harry Potterâs life. And I donât think heâs going anywhere. Youâll know where to find him when he wakes.â
âButâŚâ Dawlish might have been willing to argue the point with Madam Pomfrey but Remus knew that Kingsley was very well respected in Auror circles.
The black manâs deep voice was soothing. âIf youâre so worried, leave one of the juniors â“ Nymphadora Tonks, say â“ to keep an eye on him. She can wait until he wakes and conduct an interview. If you need to know any more, well he works here. He shouldnât be a problem to trace.â
Dawlish folded in the face of an incandescent Poppy and a reasonable Kingsley. âVery well. Get Tonks up here from Hogsmeade then. But I want a full report!â
âIâll make sure she knows that.â Kingsleyâs voice seemed rather more distant. âCome on, Dawlish. Weâd best get back to the Ministry.â
Footsteps receded. A moment later, Remus heard the door of the Hospital Wing being firmly closed.
âGood riddance!â he heard Poppy exclaim.
He couldnât resist. âMy hero,â he said, finally freeing his grin. His voice, always hoarse, was now positively croaky and very sore, but at least it was functional. He opened his eyes, squinting into the sudden light as he heard the rapid staccato approach of Madam Pomfreyâs footsteps.
âOh so you are awake,â Poppyâs brisk voice was nonetheless fond. âI thought I saw you trying not to smile but I wasnât going to say as much in front of that dreadful man.â
Remus started to push himself onto his elbows but was immediately shoved gently but firmly back into his pillows.
âNone of that!â Poppy leaned in to take his temperature, peering into his eyes. âHow are you feeling?â
Remus pulled a face but opted for honesty. âTired. A bit shaky. Sore.â
âHardly surprising, after what youâve been through. Keep still. I want to take a look at how youâre healing.â
With careful fingers, she peeled away the layers of bandage, squinting at the exposed skin thoughtfully.
âI think we can leave these off for a bit,â she declared finally, touching a fingertip lightly to what remained of his near mortal wounds as she seated herself on the edge of his bed. âYouâve healed up nicely, just as you always did. Thereâs nothing I can do about the scars of course, but youâll know that.â She smiled suddenly. âHonestly, Remus Lupin. I thought we were past the days when I had to patch you up for werewolf scratches.â
âThis was hardly a scratch.â This time Remus ignored her protests as he pulled himself into a sitting position and leaned back against the headboard, propping his pillow against his back. âAnd unless you count stupidity, they were hardly self-inflicted.â
Poppy huffed at his statement but did not comment. A glint of colour caught his eye â“ glancing to his left he realised that the bed next to his was strewn with cheerful cards, sweet smelling bunches of flowers and brightly wrapped confectionary boxes. âWhere did all that come from?â
Poppy smiled. âGet well gifts. Theyâve been arriving all afternoon.â
âWho for?â
She gave him an exasperated stare. âFor the bed pan. For you, Remus! Who else do you see?â
Remus stared at the bewildering pile. âFor me? From who?â
âThe students of course!â Poppy regarded him with a sudden glint in her eye. âI thought you might have noticed them around by now, young, shorter than average, more trouble than theyâre worth?â
âOh,â Remus smiled with mock thoughtfulness. âI wondered about all those adolescents that keep cropping up in my classroom.â
Poppy chuckled. âSarcasm, professor? You must be feeling better.â
Remus mustered a look of indignity. âI was merely responding in kind. But seriously Poppy, all that is for me?â
She smiled fondly. âIndeed it is. The students have been very worried about you.â
Remus frowned slightly. âHow did they know what happened? I wouldnât have expected Harry, Ron and Hermione to gossip.â
The matronâs expression grew serious. âThey didnât. After you passed out, we had to conjure a stretcher to rush you back to Hogwarts down the High Street. Most of them saw you, Remus.â
Remus remembered the state he had been in, covered in blood and still bleeding from the neck and imagined the stares of a street full of confused students. He winced. âOh dear.â
âExactly. Youâre very popular, you know. Many of them were extremely upset. Hence the sudden outpouring. That reminds meâŚâ She smiled suddenly. âAlbus noticed that a number of students, most notably those who take Defence with Harry Potter, seemed remarkably well informed on the nature of ferals. When youâre feeling up to it, heâd like a word about your sixth year curriculum.â
Remus grinned sheepishly. âI didnât mean to tell them so much. It was a question and answer session on werewolves that rather mutated.â
Poppy laughed outright as she got to her feet once more, checking the stuttering light beside his bed. âWhy does that not surprise me?â
Remus glanced towards the window, realising for the first time that the sun had gone down and that the Hospital wing was lit by torchlight. âPoppy, what time is it? How long have I been asleep?â
âItâs Saturday evening, about seven âoâ clock.â Poppy glanced at him thoughtfully at she made her way to the shelves of potion bottles that lined the wall beside her office. âYouâve been unconscious nearly eight hours. But considering the amount of healing you had to do, thatâs no real surprise. Even with magical assistance, the body needs time. Here.â
She handed him a vial. Remus regarded it warily. âWhatâs this?â
âBlood-Replenishing Potion. Youâve had two doses whilst you were unconscious. One more should be enough. It should certainly help with the tiredness.â
Remus had never been a fan of potions, in spite of his motherâs profession. He sometimes suspected that the keenness with which she had dosed him with them in childhood was somewhat to blame. Reluctantly, he unstopped the vial and swallowed the contents.
âGood boy.â Remus chose not to point out that far from being a good boy, he was in fact a thirty-seven year old Professor who had only two months before set off two hundred and sixty-three fireworks in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. âHonestly, for someone whose mother used to be our Potions Mistress, you always have been less than keen to take your medicine. Oh, that reminds me!â Poppy retrieved the vial from her patient and beamed. âYour father sends his love. Heâll be here to see you first thing tomorrow; he would have come tonight but Albus told him, whilst you were out of danger, you might not be conscious so it was probably best to wait. Heâs very anxious to see you though â“ he was terribly upset when the headmaster told him what happened.â
Remus glanced up sharply â“ memories of a darkened alley and a bewildering conversation filled his mind in a rush. âYou called my dad?â
Poppy misinterpreted his expression. âGrown man you may be, Remus, but your father still has the right to be concerned. One of those claws nicked an artery; if Nymphadora Tonks hadnât been so quick with a good first aid spell, it might have been too late. Of course we called Reynard.â
Remus bit his lip. So his dad was coming to see him. Even yesterday, he would have been delighted at the news. But the strange and haunting words of Kane were playing in his mind; it seems that your dearest daddy has been keeping secrets from his precious little boy⌠Perhaps heâs not so keen on having a monster for a son as he pretends... And although Remus was almost certain that Kaneâs taunts and jibes were no more than malicious troublemaking, his recent confusion regarding the events of his bite had struck a chord with Kaneâs mockery about secrets. How had Kane known his name? How did he know his father? And what had he meant when he had called him family?
Canât you feel it, he had said. And Remus could not deny he had felt something, that strange chill, that ache in his blood whenever Kane was near. He wondered for a moment if the feeling had simply been a natural werewolf reaction to the presence of a feral â“ but then why did no one else at The Howling seem affected that night?
Kane had implied that they had met before. He had recognised him in The Howling and been concerned enough to ask questions about him later. Why?
And his offer⌠Remus shivered in spite of himself. Kane couldnât have known just how repugnant that idea would be to his captive; in hindsight, without knowledge of Remusâ true intentions, the conclusions he had reached had been quite logical. But why take the trouble to try and turn him feral? Was this some new plan of Voldemortâs or was Kane acting alone? Remus wasnât sure which answer he preferred.
But what chilled Remus most had been Kaneâs implication that he had known of the younger wolfâs feral past. Youâve tasted it before, heâd said. But how could he possibly know? In the world, only three people alive knew of his feral incident in 1981 and all three he trusted implicitly to keep his darkest secret; Dumbledore, Moody and his father. Unless it showed physically somehow, in some way that Remus was not aware of, he could only assume that Kane had been guessing, trying to get under his skin with those terrible words. There was no way he could have known.
Was there?
The thought disturbed him greatly. Slipping under the covers once more and settling back down against his pillow, Remus listened to the bustle of Poppy Pomfrey at work as he stared blankly at the ceiling and tried to shake the icy feeling in his heart that someone he cared about had been lying to him.
He failed.