That Time of the Month
"Oh for Rowena's sake, I can't just tell him it's that time of the month, can I? Not like he would get it, he's a man after all." Remus overheard a couple of older Ravenclaw girls talking. He was sure they weren't talking about his same monthly problem, but was unsure what that time of the month meant. Matron wasn't keen on talking about ladies' issues since there weren't any girls in St. Edmund, probably wouldn't have explained it if there were anyways. But it did throw him off the loop because it was going to be his own time of the month very soon.
Remus had had one brief encounter with Dumbledore before being accepted into Hogwarts. He'd said a lot of concerning things to Remus, concerning, he thought, for lack of a better word. But the one that mattered to him right now, was that he said the school would be ready to accommodate his... problem. His scars felt fresh every time he so much thought about it. Still, Dumbledore had failed to give any further detail and Remus was unsure what was supposed to happen about that, and time was becoming a bit of an enemy at the moment, since the full moon was only a night away.
McGonagall seemed to have caught up in his uneasiness, asking him to stay for a moment after their transfiguration lesson of the day. James insisted they could wait for him, they all seemed to be attached at the hip since the smelly situation they'd created a few days back, lucky he was shushed away by McGonagall.
"Of course Albus didn't elaborate at all." She seemed to have caught on quickly after a short exchange. "Tomorrow after dinner head to the infirmary, I will be meet you there with Madame Pomfrey and elaborate on the matter there, but rest assure Mr. Lupin, you have nothing to worry about." She stayed silent for a moment, but she wasn't done talking, it was a pause to find either the words or the courage to say the other part, "I think Professor Dumbledor might have mentioned something, or perhaps you've known it yourself since before, Mr. Lupin, but... the magical world, I suppose as well as the muggles, doesn't react well to those with lycanthropy." I could've told her that. "For you own safety, you ought to keep it a secret. Dumbledore has entrusted this knowledge to your professors and Madame Pomfrey, but the students might not be able to make peace with it. Don't tell a single soul Remus, for your safety."
Everything McGonagall said, every word she uttered had weight. And Remus' shoulders felt heavy.
Uneasiness wasn't limited to the full moon, it was a cycle, after all. The wolf was difficult to control as the moon grew closer, restless, itchy, irritable. Remus hated those days, not more than the days he'd changed. He'd pick being a prick over transforming in a second, any day of the week.That was the worse part of all, and a complete mystery for Remus as well. The transformation was painful, and getting back was just as hurtful, always awoke with new scars, his body was a tapestry of them by now, he'd seen a few people with tattoos to cover thier scars back at St. Edmond once he'd snuck out, he thought about doing that some day. But it wasn't like he had any money to get a tattoo right now.
He spent the next class, Charms, pestered by James and Sirius, who couldn't stop pestering him about why McGonagall held him back. He made up something about the detention he was due for having snapped at Snivellus the other day, he knew they would eat it up and leave him alone for the rest of the class.
It was too hot. Mid-august, the fall climate hadn't settled in yet. Remus figures he wasn't the only one who couldn't sleep, Sirius groaned and growled like a dog turning around in his bed. The wolf's hearing was bad enough generally, right now it was insufferable.
He heard the black haired boy get on his feet, a few steps, "Are you awake, mate?" not to him, to James, a good bet seeing as Peter was the only one snoring at the moment, every other day it was like a snore competition between Peter and James.
"Yeah," a muffled groan answered Sirius.
"May I?" Remus heard Sirius get up on Potter's bed and whisper a silencing charm.
Lupin wasn't the best at dealing with his own emotion, much less those of others, much much less those of wizards. He figured it was something to do with the letter Sirius received that morning, it was a black envelop, not the normal off-white ones he'd grown accustomed to seeing. He figured it wasn't good news because Sirius had put off reading it until it was bedtime. Family matters would've been the worse thing to bring up with Remus, not because he was particularly sore there, but he just didn't know it. Couldn't. He hadn't got one, at least not one he remembered, he'd been in the Home since he was five with not so much as a memory from his parents.
The sudden silence in the room seemed to do the trick, among the late night thoughts of Remus, he managed to drift off to sleep.
...
After dinner, the next day, he faked an illness. Said he'd probably caught a stomach bug or eaten too much, that he'd pop off to the infirmary. James, Sirius and Pete insisted on walking him over at least. Couldn't shove them off, the lot of them. Madame Pomfrey could, she was every bit as terrifying as McGonagall, that stern look that made everyone stop in their track and think twice before talking back.
"I''m very glad to finally make your acquaintance, Mr. Lupin," just as formal as McGonagall, probably got on wellwith her, "I'll be honest with you, I was terrified when Professor Dumbledore told me about your coming," of course she was, "I have not had any contact with anyone with your situation prior to this, didn't know how to work with it. But I threw myself into researching as best as I could, the whole of summer. Every text I could get my hands on, I read. However there is remarkably little about caring for anyone with it." That was not something he'd heard before, Remus felt a little ashamed of her having gone through all that trouble for him, surely he couldn't have been worth it, they out to throw him in a cage like they did at St. Edmond. "So you and I will venture into making the best of what we can, Mr. Lupin, I'm sure we'll get there." Unknowing where there was, Remus agreed, no adult had ever done so much for him before, he was unsure how to take it.
Little later, McGonagall arrived at Madame Pomfrey's office, knocking gently and decisively on the wooden door. "Everything seems to be in order. We ought to head there early in case of any inconvenience heads our way." On the way, McGonagall explained the protocol he would have to follow every full moon. She guided them through a passageway, somewhat of a cave that led to the Whomping Willow, which was not-coincidentally just donated by a Hogwarts alumni, and meant to guard the passageway and keep the students away from it, it's entrance was also concealed by a charm put there by McGonagall, which either herself or Madame Pomfrey would remove each time they had to go through. Remus wasn't sure how, but the passageway lead to the interior of a run-down house, horribly kept and damp, all it's windows boarded up and the furniture was just as torn as the rest of the house. They guarded him into a large room, with only a mattress on the floor.
Remus felt his skin start to get bumpy, his muscles tensed up little by little. "I must apologize for the state of the place. But Professor Dumbledore thought it was the better option, a rundown place does not draw in suspicion." His scars hurt.
"I will come back in the morning," the nurse attempted it to sound comforting, but it wasn't much comfort, he could already feel it coming, and he was sure both witches knew.
"Best of luck, Remus." McGonagall said as they locked the door. It was an odd thing to wish for him. He appreciated the sentiment, truly did. But luck would not help with the pain, the crackling of his bones, the way his skull stretched into a snout, his skin breaking and stretching. Pain was all that Remus could feel, and no luck would make it better.
...
The following morning the pain was still there, a fresh wound running from his lower left ribs to the top of his right pulsated horribly on his chest. It was still fresh, far from closed, and the bleeding was concerning enough as it was. His clothes were ripped up and he didn't have the strength to move, his hips felt off and the sunlight that came through the cracks in the ceiling hurt his eyes.
His misery was cut short by the steps of Madame Pomfrey walking up the stairs and removing the charm from the door. She was carrying a suitcase and a fresh change of clothes.
She gasped as soon as the door opened. Whatever she had read had not prepared her for the sight of the bloodied Remus lying on the floor on the verge of unconsciousness.
But the sight of the nurse was enough of a reassurance to Remus that he would not die if he closed his eyes right now. And so he crossed into a deep, painful, deep sleep.