The cellar was dark and gave off an evil aura. It was dangerous in its own right, and yet there she was, sitting in the middle of it, curled up on the floor. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, feeling the blood oozing from the cuts in her skin, but she relished in the feeling of existing. The pain made her feel alive, because if there was no pain, there was nothing to prove her existence.

The pain of existence.

She shuddered, breathing in loud pants, wanting the pain to go away, but knowing it wouldn't. It wasn't possible to figure out how long she had been down in that cellar, shaking from the cold and bleeding. She was pale and thin, with old scars and fresh wounds scattered across her exposed skin. Her hair was matted and dark, splayed out on the floor behind her, and when she opened her eyes, they were the darkest shade of brown possible. The only thing that rivaled the darkness of her eyes was the darkness of the cellar.

"Do you think it's safe yet?"

"Of course, the sun is starting to come up. Besides, it's Lucy; that girl won't hurt a fly."

"If you say so… I'm still not so sure. Remember I've never been down here after a full moon."

"She's probably too wounded to get up anyway. Relax."

The sounds of voices and footsteps came closer and the girl named Lucy curled into herself more, clutching at her bleeding arms, gasping uncontrollably. Her heart was beating too fast, and it was hurting her. The thought of anyone coming to see her in the state she was in was horrifying. What if that person was right, what if it wasn't safe yet? There was no telling; she was a monster, after all.

"Lucy," a boy's voice whispered soothingly, "are you awake?"

Lucy responded with a painstaking moan, clenching her eyes as tightly shut as was possible. She could feel the heat of their bodies; they were close to her. She could hear their hearts, pounding away in their chests. They pretended to be fearless, to treat seeing her as some sort of rescue mission, but in reality they were terrified. The truth never stayed hidden for long.

"She looks pretty beat up," someone whispered. "Do you think we should go get your mother?"

"No, we can do this by ourselves. Mother would only get angry if she found out we had been down here so soon after the full moon. She doesn't even come down here until lunchtime herself." The boy's voice responded bravely. "We can do this."

"I don't know, James," the other boy whispered, "this isn't right. We might end up hurting her more than helping her."

The boy named James hissed. "This is my sister you're talking about, Sirius. Watch what you say, or so help me—"

"Alright, alright, jeez; don't get so worked up!"

Lucy opened her eyes then, staring up at the boy sitting directly in front of her. He had unruly black hair, bright hazel eyes, and round spectacles. It had taken her a moment, but she could recognize him. Lucy smiled weakly back, releasing her hold on her arms and reaching for her older brother. He grabbed her, gently pulling her into his lap, either not noticing the blood on his hands and clothes or ignoring it.

"James," Lucy rasped her voice quiet and rough from disuse. "You need to leave."

"No!" He exclaimed. "You're my little sister, why would I leave you? You need my help, so that's that. Just get over it. I know you hate attention, but when this happens just forget protesting it. Mother might listen to you, but I certainly won't listen to my younger sister!"

Lucy coughed, wincing. She could feel the blood on her lips, sliding down her chin. She reached up with a shaking hand to wipe away the blood. James looked to his left and said something quietly to the boy that had accompanied him and gave a silent nod. Lucy tried to look at the other boy, but James kept her from moving, telling her that it would only make her feel worse.

Moments later the second boy had returned with a small first aid kit. "I hope this is okay. Your mum was starting to wake up, so this was all I was able to grab before she caught me. Sorry mate."

"This is fine; she's not wounded that badly. I'm guessing the transformation wasn't as bad as they usually are." James said calmly, cleaning Lucy's wounds as if he had been doing it all his life.

"The condition of the body afterwards depends on the mood she's in before she transforms, right?" The other boy asked; the one named Sirius.

"Yeah, that's just about it," James said quietly, wrapping gauze around Lucy's arm. "Whenever I used to come down here to help, Mother would always send me away, but not before I could see her. Lucy always looked mangled, as though someone had ripped her apart and stuck her back together awkwardly. It looked like she had been hit by one of those muggle contraptions. Sirius, what are they called?"

"Cars," Sirius deadpanned. James grinned at his friend.

"You are the expert on muggles after all," he said happily. "I never understood your fascination with them."

Sirius didn't respond, allowing James to focus on his work. Lucy remained still, never moving, waiting for one of them to be repulsed by her and run, but neither of them did. It was strange for her, how her older brother and his friend could be so casual in her presence, but her own mother and father treated her like the plague. James sometimes boasted about how great their mother and father were, but that was because he had never been on the receiving end of their disgust and hatred. The Potter family was the perfect family on the outside.

But the inside was in shreds.

"That should do it," James suddenly said, the pride evident in his voice. Lucy glanced down at her body, noting how almost every inch of her arms and legs were covered in clean, white bandages.

"Thank you," she said quietly. He grinned happily and carefully lifted her from the ground.

"It's no problem at all," he laughed, turning to leave, with Sirius trailing warily behind him. "What are big brothers for, after all?"