Unicorn Blood
Running through the woods, Remus happens across all kinds of incredible things. None more miraculous than unicorns.
So when he wakes up, with blood on his hands and silver hairs stuck to him, he is terrified he’s killed one.
For nearly an hour he stumbles around, searching for the beast, finally stopping when his wounds have bled so much that he can’t see straight.
He finds his clothes, his bag, the only things he has, tears streaming down his cheeks.
By the time he finds his way back to the campsite, his vision is blurring and he feels like he might pass out.
“R.J.!” Someone's arms wrap around his torso, helping him onto a soft surface, probably a blanket.
R.J. the voice had said. It must be Killian holding him. He’s the only one who calls him R.J..
Remus shakes.
“Is he crying?” Someone else asks.
“Let’s maybe focus on the bleeding, Casey.” Another voice scolds. Derrick, he’s pretty sure.
Remus can hardly breathe, he’s so upset.
Dittany spills onto his skin and the bleeding slows. They don’t have a lot. Remus knows that.
“No, don’t,” he protests, not deserving of the relief the medicine brings. “I killed- I killed the unicorn.”
A sob escapes him.
Hands move over his body, and then two hands are cupping his face.
“Unicorn blood is silver. Not red. Lad, you wouldn't kill a unicorn. The most your wolf would do is howl at the poor creature,” Alan says urgently.
Tears pour down his cheeks.
Relief floods him.
He nods and lets them use the dittany.
They stitch him up and force food on him.
Later, after the others have gone to bed, Remus stays up with Alan, stoking the fire.
“You should hold onto these,” Alan says, passing Remus a clump of silver hairs. “Might make for a good wand core.”
Remus looks at him, surprised.
“How did you know?” Remus asks.
“I figured it wasn’t a coincidence that as soon as you joined our ragtag group we stopped waking up soaked from rain. Or that the fire never seems to burn out no matter how inattentive Killian tends to be with it.”
“And you don’t mind?” That I’m a wizard?
Alan shakes his head and smiles at Remus.
“Of course not, son,” Alan says.
He has no idea what it means to Remus, for him to use that word.
When Alan grips Remus’s shoulder in comfort, Remus can’t help the tears that spill down his face.