A/N: My first Remus fic! Please, drop a little comment! Let me know what you think! Or an idea! Or your life story! I'm all ears...
It was a warm January and the time passed all the quicker. I slowly walked through the corridors of St. Mungos as I reflected upon the unusual weather. My mother had always said that a warm morning was a good omen. Perhaps January could be considered the morning of the year. Perhaps that was just wishful thinking, because I sorely needed a good year.
As I reached the main healer's station on the ground floor, I hung my blue blazer on the coat rack and smoothed down my green robes. A Senior Healer, in fact, the one I trained under, Trudy Goodall approaced me, a relieved look about her wrinkled face.
"There's a boy in room 47B. He's been there over night and he's stable, but he might need this," Madam Goodall explained before tossing me a vial of thick, black syrup. Draught of Ease, I read across the label. I remembered it from one of my texts. It was used to rid patients who suffered from post-traumatic stress of unpleasent dreams. And at that, I was officially on duty.
Before setting off to room 47, I yawned so wide the senior healer behind the center station glared sideways at me.
"Sorry, Mindy: I usually get more sleep." I sweetly smiled, pocketing the potion and making my way down the hall. Before turning into the room, I stopped at the door and picked up the patient's record that sat in a cubby on the wall. With a wave toward Gregory who sat up eating his breakfast in bed A, I slid behind the curtains pulled closed between the two patients.
I stopped and swallowed hard as a pink crept over my cheeks. I hadn't prepared myself yet to see anyone in such a sad state. As I moved closer, I sat the file folder down on the end table and inspected the boy. He couldn't be any older than I was, but ages of wisdom were etched across his face. Under a lock of sandy brown hair was a freshly healed wound. I could see the invisable seems of the last binding charm slowly come undone as a loud, raspy voice startled me. Madam Larson -Head Healer- or Mindy, as I called her solely to annoy, announced her presence.
"I just wanted to inform you, because Goodall forgot to: He requires several new Nectus charms applied here," she opened the folder and pointed, leaning into me, "and here, and here and here and here."
"Thanks, Mindy," I emphasized, quickly yanking the file out of her hand and conning an appreciative simper. "I think I've got it under control."
She hautily raised an eyebrow before stalking out of the room. An annoyed huff escaped my lips before I turned back toward the patient. I retrieved the vial out of my pocket and set it carefully on the end table. Checking the file one last time, I set it beside the boy and pulled my wand from my sleeve.
I muttered "Nice to meet you, Remus," before pointing the tip of my wand at his forehead and rotating my wrist as if sewing a pattern. His eyes sleepily flickered open to reveal royal blue irises: a color I'd never seen before. At least not in someone's eyes.
"I brought you some Draught of Ease, in case you're having trouble getting good rest," I offered, moving my wand down to his arm and repeating the binding motions. With a crooked brow, he huffed.
"Did it occur to anyone that Draught of Ease may have been more useful last night, before I slept? ...Not after I woke," he finished in a mumble, struggling to keep his eyes open. I shrugged off his remark. It wasn't unusual that patients were impatient. After I reapplied the second Nectus charm and moved to undo the shirt button, my brows met in confusion. What kind of wounds are these?
I picked up the file, setting my wand in it's place. Flipping to the frontmost page, red words in large type read: Lycanthrope.
I hadn't realized that I had whispered the word until the body writhed below the file I held in my hands. I looked down to find blue eyes open and averting. I had never known a werewolf. I cleared my throat, setting the file aside.
"Bad transformation?" I asked lightly, careful not to sound accusing. His eyes remained toward the charmed window.
"Yes," his voice cracked.
"Well, I've studied and read all about lycanthropy, you see. So I'm sure I can take care of you," I explained with the brightest smile I could muster. His eyes seemed to calculate before his neck craned toward me. A fleeting, appreciative smile flitted across his face. My eyes focused on his funny lip shape for a moment before he sat back and closed his eyes, again.
Before I left that night, I found myself peeking in on the boy. I had read his file several times over during lunch hour, and because a medical history wasn't much of a history, I found myself curious at the young man. I eyed the empty vial of the Draught I left and crossed the room to pick it up.
Again, at his bedside, I studied his face carefully, in search of the boy I came to learn I went to school with. But he had changed, and I no longer recognized him as Sirius Black and James Potter's quiet, yet vivacious, and healthy boy friend. He looked a worn, wanting man, battered and hurt.