The sound was too quiet to be called a sob; it was a mewl, a desperate moan of pain. Teddy shuddered as his body convulsed once more, feeling bile rise in his throat and fighting the urge to throw up. He clenched his fists so hard that his nails dug into the palm of his hand.
If this is what it's like to be a halfie, I'm so glad I'm not a werewolf...
Another groan escaped his lips as he felt his back arch with the ricochets of pain. Dizzying images flicked past his vision and once more he was nearly sick.
Teddy Lupin may not have been a werewolf, but he certainly had his 'time of the month'. He had not inherited werewolf genes from his father, but he had been passed a hereditary strangeness during the full moon.
He was no danger to anyone else, but he knew that despite the fact they didn't say it, all his groaning and tossing freaked his dorm-mates out. He retreated to the shrieking shack out of choice, feeling strangely closer to his father.
Now he was lying face down on the floor, body quivering, teeth clenched as strange dreams tortured his brain. He felt a rush of adrenaline and an animalistic urge to pounce and bite and tear flooded his body. He swallowed it back, fighting away the terrible nightmares.
Now he was on his back, panting heavily. Sweat dripped down his forehead. His prised open his eyes and glanced at his watch. Three more hours, just another one hundred and eighty minutes before he could collapse and sleep without fitting terribly.
He had to stay awake. If he slept, the dreams would return and haunt him. He wasn't a werewolf, but he had wolfish tendencies when he got angry or bathed in the glow of the full moon. He could almost feel his canines sharpen, legs lengthen, body grow hairy...
But it didn't. He was an eleven year-old boy still, alone, scared and shaking.
On nights like this, his father had his friends to stay with him, and later on, his mother.
He had no one. It wasn't as if he needed someone to restrain him and stop him from escaping, it was just that...
He was lonely. Was it too much to ask to have a hand to hold when you're suffering?
Evidently, it was. He rolled over onto a cushion that he had placed there to try and give himself some comfort. He had a makeshift bed, too, and the remains of what had been there when his father had used the shack to hide in.
He would have stayed in the bed, but he didn't want to sleep for fear of the dreams. He'd been sitting on the armchair in the corner, reading a book, when a beam of moonlight hit him.
He couldn't read any more, eyes unable to focus on the words as instinct took over and he dropped to the floor.
Now he was flat on his back, panting in exhaustion, as the last of the convulsions faded. The last few hours of the full moon, until daylight, were the least draining. The pain grew less sharp and he felt more human.
He raised his hand to loosen the buttons of his pyjama top, but let it flop down again as he realised he simply didn't have enough energy, nor the brain power to figure out how to undo such complex things as buttons.
He rolled onto his side, felt his insides lurch, and coughed back stomach acid. The taste stung his mouth and made him gag. He was shivering again, though he was not the slightest bit cold.
All he could do now was wait for unconsciousness to claim him and pray that the nightmares wouldn't be too bad. He closed his eyes and waited.
"We can't stay long. We shouldn't be here."
"Look at him, Remus, he's shaking so bad it looks like someone's put a jigging charm on him. We can't just leave him."
He felt a cool hand on his forehead and relaxed into the soft touch.
"Look at you, my baby, aren't you brave! Out here, on your own..."
"It's nearly sunrise. The worst of it's over."
"You hear that, Teddy?" a hand was gently stroking his hair and caressing his cheek. "Don't worry about a thing."
He felt a second warmth beside him and another hand touched his sweaty brow.
"He's had a bad night. He shouldn't sleep on the floor."
A strong arm wrapped around his shoulder, another snaked beneath his knees, and suddenly he was lifted up. He felt the softness of the eiderdown on the bed and a duvet was tucked tenderly around him.
"There you are, baby," soft breath tickled his cheek, "Rest up. You've got school in the morning!"
There was a pause, then a chuckle, "I always wanted to say that."
Another pause.A contented one.
"He's going to be fine, Dora."
Teddy's eyelids flickered open as sunlight streamed through the grimy window. He yawned and stretched his aching joints, as the memory of the night before came back to him.
He sighed as he recalled their voices. A dream. For once, the half-lycanthropy had granted him a peaceful night.
It was only then that he realised he was tucked up in bed.