Unleashed
Chatper Title: One Day

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything you recognize. Hell, I probably don't even own the words I used to write this.
Notes: Thanks to my glorius Beta read; That Guy Again! Did such a great job.

The wound in his side ached with more force and pain he'd ever felt before. His fingers dipped under the blankets to touch it softly. He hissed in fear as he felt the cuts and gashes through the heavy bandages. It hurt horribly; the thudding pain echoed through his body causing him to flinch whenever someone's hand went near it to change his bloodstained bandages or to check on it.

They hadn't been able to stop the pain- they'd given him many potions but he'd had side effects to the simplest ones the Healers had on hand, so they decided to let him deal with the pain as best he could. He tried to keep still because if he didn't move, it wouldn't hurt. It hurt more than the time his Uncle had hit him in the head with a Beater bat, cracking his skull. He'd only been ten and hadn't experienced any other horrific pain until fourteen years later, when he'd been attacked.

He supposed that he remembered the night vividly as it had only been several weeks ago, on the full moon. It was easy to remember the fog sitting desolately around him as he strolled in the small garden behind his home, kicking some gnomes over the low hanging fence as he went. He was humming to himself, a cheery tune, he remembered. He'd been happy. It struck him as insanely marvellous that he was able to be happy in the seconds before his life flipped in a three-sixty degree angle. He could clearly account the dark shaggy human shape that had leaped over his low fence yet hardly had the time to react before the wolf was on him. He'd never been able to reach for the wand up his sleeve. There was no time. He didn't need to remember the blinding pain when the monster's teeth had ripped through his flesh and changed him; he was feeling that pain now. It was a mystery as to who had bitten him, but right now the Healers seemed to think it had been Greyback as he was the only werewolf making attacks at the moment, attacks in the heart of London suburbs anyway.

A werewolf in the middle of the fucking suburbs! After he'd regained consciousness, finished staring blankly into space after receiving the news of what had happened to him, and then had a good fit about, he'd been appalled at that. The werewolf was in the suburbs where there were Muggles and children, not to mention Muggle children. Wasn't that why the Ministry sub-divisions had been formed, to protect against threats like that? Normally, a werewolf would have been fine, but it was on the night of a full moon and, as far as he'd heard, the Ministry had failed to track down the werewolf who'd bitten him. He supposed that their interest in him had lessened since he was now on record as one himself.

Everyone knew werewolves had it bad. He knew it and, he'd spent a good deal of his stay crying about that and staring distantly at the ceiling. Recovery was second on his mind; he wanted his life back, and he wanted to learn how to cope. The Healers seemed unable to give him either of these things; only false hope and new bandages.

He wasn't himself anymore; he was a monster, a freak in the eyes of others. He'd learnt that when the Weasleys had come to visit Arthur. He was a nice man who'd tried to console him as best he could but only when the talk was down. Arthur Weasley had told him he knew a werewolf, and that he was a pleasant man, not a danger to anyone. He couldn't help but snort at that. Not a danger? Try hanging around with any werewolf on the full moon.

Arthur had tried to help the Healers when they'd tried to persuade him that he'd have a normal life. "Kenneth, dear," they'd say, "you're young, only twenty-four, plenty of life left in you. You can have a completely normal life." That was when Arthur had jumped in, as upbeat as you like and started talking about the werewolf he knew and that he found the condition quite easy to manage. Kenneth had replied briskly that he was feeling quite willing to give Arthur another bite to add to the collection; he'd been feeling restless that day, tossing and turning in no end before finally the restlessness left him, and he went back to staring at the ceiling. Arthur's family, his wife especially, you could always tell which ones were Weasleys, were a little skittish of him when they came to see Arthur. His wife had actually said quite loudly before correcting herself and lowering her voice that she didn't think it safe for the werewolf to be in here; shouldn't he be in a private room?

He'd like to be in a private room, it was off putting to have other visitors trampling through here to see Mr Weasley when he had none himself. It made him terribly lonely. But who would want to see someone in his condition? His parents had not come, and he didn't think they ever would come to see him again as his father and mother both had a strong phobia of werewolves, and his brother worked for the Ministry who took an anti-werewolf stance, so he'd never show. He'd had no visitors and was continuously expecting none, not even for Christmas which was two days away. Kenneth knew he couldn't let his hopes get up.

That single bite had spelled out the end of his life as he knew it, despite the Healers reassurances. The Healers, stupid as they were though they knew their craft, continuously asked him if it hurt, with "sweetie" or "darling" attached to the end of the sentence. Yes, it hurt but the way they tried to console him hurt more. He just wanted to leave and possibly lock himself away for all eternity so he wouldn't be a danger to anyone. He didn't want to hurt. The Healers had been good to him, but he couldn't help but notice the nervous way some of them acted around him. Some never spoke to him- they just came in placed his food on the table and left. And he could feel the others who had to see to his bite shaking from nerves as they peeled away the fabric that surrounded it.

He always wanted to snap at them the date of the next full moon and how human he'd be until then, but he hated thinking of the moon now. Even seeing the quarter and half moon made him scared. He had a right to be scared though. But some of the Healers, these were the ones he liked, the ones who treated him like any other patient, the ones who spoke to him like he was a normal person with just an ailment, they spoke to him like it would go away, and they saw him as Kenneth, not a werewolf. But even they had to accept what he was and had to talk to him about his life. It was horrible to hear them trying to be cheery about it. He'd give anything to have Arthur's wound, a mere snake bite. So what if it bled like the world was coming to an end when they took the bandages off, at least he didn't have wolf blood running through his veins and ready to rewrite what the Muggles called DNA. He couldn't do anything about it, there was no cure. When he'd remembered that, his body had started to shake softly yet controllably, and tears slipped down his cheeks.

Christmas day was looking to be terrible, another event to prove just how alone he was. As expected nobody came to see him, not his parents nor his brother. He hadn't thought they would, why would they? Their son and sibling was now a monster. No presents, nothing. His friends had abandoned him too, surely they would have heard from his parents who'd been informed the minute after he'd struggled losing a lot of blood to send a distress single through his wand. Little shits they were.

Intense loyalty was not something anyone in his family was good at, apart from himself. He liked to think that he'd be here beside a family member or friend if they'd been bitten but there was no way in telling what he'd really do unless what had happened to him happened to him. He just liked to think he was a better person then they were. He wanted to go home as well, spend Christmas where nobody like the Weasleys could see how alone he was. He was so young as well. It just wasn't fair. What had happened was not fair. He eyed the Weasleys jealously as they and a few tagalongs milled joyously around Arthur, gleefully being a family for Christmas. Mrs Weasley shot an anxious glance his way, like she was scared he'd suddenly jump up and bite her precious children. They made eye contact for a split second before Kenneth pulled his eyes away quickly to the ceiling not bothering to see who else had come along with the group.

Staring up at the ceiling feeling glassy eyed and withdrawn, Kenneth let his eyes fall back to the group and saw an aged man staring back at him with wistful brown eyes and shabby unkempt dark yet greying hair falling over them. Kenneth, again, quickly pulled his eyes away from the group feeling like he was intruding, but he caught the small half smile the man gave before he turned away back to the ceiling again.

Suddenly a shriek erupted from Mrs Weasley and Kenneth flinched hoping deeply that he hadn't been the source of it, Mrs Weasley was uncomfortable with him sharing a ward with her husband and honestly, he couldn't blame her. But it was nothing to do with him; Mrs Weasley was starting to have a fit over the Muggle remedy he'd heard Arthur and his Healer discussing the day before. If Kenneth had thought butting in was a good idea when they'd been talking about it, he would have agreed to the idea because he'd had those Muggle stitches before and they'd worked very well for him even though the gash had been smaller than Arthur's bite.

He groaned and shifted in the bed as the saw many of the Weasleys dispersing as if they felt an oncoming argument but stopped tensely as he saw the man coming towards him, striding over quickly looking pained as he looked back on Kenneth. Soon he was standing beside his bed.

'I'm so sorry,' the man murmured. Kenneth was shocked as the man drew up a chair beside him and sat down elegantly beside him, staring sorrowfully down.

'What for?' he asked sitting up a little against the hard pillows behind his head and rolling his head to one side to watch the man. If this man was going to give him some company he'd best enjoy all the company he could get. 'You haven't done anything.'

'Arthur told me,' the man continued solemnly, like the world was sitting against his shoulders, 'what happened.' He smiled awkwardly pushing his hair away from his face. He looked ill and worn, like one good hex could finish him off. He sighed gently and touched Kenneth's hand that lay out from under the protection of the sheets that covered him. Kenneth had an urge to pull away from this strange touch, as he hadn't been touched this calmly and fondly since before he was attacked. He didn't pull back and looked up at the man inquisitively. 'I'm so sorry,' the man repeated his eyes suddenly downcast.

Kenneth shrugged. 'No need to be,' he said firmly. 'Who are you?' he asked with a light awkward laugh. It was beginning to get a bit uncomfortable, not knowing this shy and apologetic man's name.

The man looked as though he contemplated this answer for sometime before coming to a decision within himself. 'Remus Lupin,' he said quietly.

Kenneth sat up further in the bed so quickly that he jolted his bite and pain flared. He clenched his eyes shut as tried not to let the tears seep down his cheeks. Sometimes he thought the side effects of the potions would be better than having to go through this pain whenever he moved. 'The werewolf?' he asked in a hissing voice.

He'd heard all about Remus Lupin, the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher who'd only been at Hogwarts for a year before turning on several students during the full moon, not that he could have helped it then. It must be nature. His own mother had had a panic attack about the fact someone inflicted with such a disease had been allowed to teach at the school. Albus must have lost nearly all his marbles and that was precisely why neither of her sons had gone to that school even though they were well before Remus Lupin's teaching years. He opened his eyes once he felt safe that he wouldn't tear from pain in this man's presence.

'Yes,' Remus Lupin said, nodding his head. 'Don't worry,' he said soothingly, 'the pain will leave eventually. Have they not given you any potions to stop it?'

'I have bad side effects to them,' muttered Kenneth looking up into the older werewolf's eyes. He sighed deeply and played with the sheets that lay over his chest with his fingers. He bit down on his bottom lip before the resistance to hide how scared he was broke. 'What's going to happen to me?' he asked, hearing his voice break sharply. 'The Healers keep telling me I'll live a normal life, but you know better than anyone here what it's like.'

'You're shaking,' Lupin noted, avoiding the question in a way that sent shivers up Kenneth's spine. 'May I?' he asked standing up and walking around the bed to where Kenneth's hand had flown when he'd moved to quickly and sparked up the pain again. Lupin's fingers touched the edge of the hospital quilt before he received a quick nod from Kenneth allowing him to lift up the quilt and see his wound. Lupin snarled on sight of it and quickly lowered the blanket looking back at Kenneth. 'What's your name?' he asked kindly.

'Kenneth Webber.'

'Listen, Kenneth,' Lupin said crossing back over to his seat and sitting down. 'I'm not going to lie to you about this. Once you've been bitten lycanthropy is not easy to deal with but you have to learn how to. One of the hardest things is letting the wolf share space in your body -'

'- the wolf? I don't understand.'

Lupin didn't look as though he minded that Kenneth had interrupted him and continued with his explanation just stepping back a few paces to educate Kenneth more deeply about what was happened, something the Healers had failed to do. 'Once you are bitten you basically have to share your mind and body with a wolf type impersonation of yourself. A bite from a werewolf on full moon will transfer some of its blood into you, the wolf blood never the human blood. And that changes the structure of your body. This shaking, how long has it been going on for?'

'Two days before Christmas,' Kenneth said wasting no time. He would gladly tell Remus Lupin everything he knew. There was a great sense of trust about the man, and he was calming and soothing. The soft way in which he spoke had easily made Kenneth place all his trust in the hands of this man inflicted with the same illness as he. 'The Healers just gave me another blanket but the shaking hasn't stopped.'

'It's normal,' Lupin said. 'The wolf is just trying to find a place inside and when it comes through fully, it will be violent and destructive. All werewolves need to learn how to control their wolf if they want to live as normal a life as possible; it's something you have to learn to live with. Everyone's wolf is different, but all are very strong and dangerous. If I let my guard down, even on a normal day not near the full moon, I could endanger people around me. It is hard trying to master your wolf at first, but most manage it. Fenrir Greyback has not because he chooses to run feral,' said Lupin, his voice sounding hoarser then when he had begun speaking as if Greyback was a great deal of trouble to talk about.

'How do I?'

'With time,' Lupin said. 'I do not think you will be able to master your wolf before this full moon, and maybe even the next. It takes time, whenever you feel it – you will know when you do – just push it aside, gently. For some it takes a long time, others not so long. Don't give in to what it wants you to do, unless you want to run wild.'

It wasn't so much a question but Kenneth felt obligated to answer it as Lupin had looked nervous as he'd mentioned running wild and letting it control you. 'I don't want to run wild,' he murmured softly. 'What will I do?' he added tearfully. 'The full moon, what am I going to do?'

'Stay calm,' Lupin suggested mildly. 'You'll be fine. Firstly, don't worry about that yet. It's two weeks away, less actually. But don't think about it yet. When they let you just go home and relax. Before the full moon, a couple of days before make sure you are isolated. Go somewhere where you can't be a danger to anyone and set up wards also. Don't try to fight what happens on the night; it'll make it worse.' He touched Kenneth's forehead gently. 'Have they offered you a stock of Wolfsbane?'

'Yes.'

'Take it; it'll help with some of the Dementia during the transformation. You may find you hold on to some more of yourself each full moon. It will help, but it won't cure.' Lupin smiled distantly and rose from his chair. 'If you need any help, please let me know. I'll be more than willing. If you have more questions, Kenneth, don't hesitate to ask me. I know I have been vague but everyone's wolf is different, and it's hard to tell exactly what will happen. The Healers are right though; if you can control your wolf, you'll have a normal life spare one night a month. It was nice to meet you,' the man said as pleasantly as he could.

'Thank you for that. I mean, I feel better now that someone who knows, really knows, has spoken to me.'

'Not a problem,' Lupin answered. 'Oh,' he paused and dug into the pockets of his torn and patched cloak before drawing out a rumpled square package. 'Would you like some chocolate? It is good for calming the nerves.'

'Will it cure me?'

'Nothing will. I'm sorry.'

'Then, no thank you.'

'Remember; don't hesitate to send me an owl. I will be happy to talk to some more.'

'Thanks, I won't forget. Happy Christmas,' Kenneth said trying to sound bright and perky when he said it but failing miserable. Lupin smiled knowingly.

Remus Lupin nodded and tucked the chocolate back into his cloak pocket before striding away, only stopping to wish Arthur good bye and bidding him a Happy Christmas before leaving the wing. Kenneth watched him almost sad that the man could not or would not stay longer with him. It had eased him to see that Remus Lupin, who was such a gentle man, had been bitten as he had and looked to be coping fine. He was a little on the shabby side of things, just a little worse for wear, but he was charming, and the only thing he had going against him was how the Ministry felt about his lycanthropy.

The fear of werewolves had always been high, it was one of a parent's worst nightmare, and he knew that, but before his attack he'd been hearing things about how people thought werewolves were a step below normal humans and they thought they shouldn't have a place in this world – they were basically suggesting a mass extermination. Kenneth had been unsure of his stance on that matter before the bite, but now he was certain he didn't want that to happen because it would mean he went too, and the charming Remus Lupin.

His name was however a little unfortunate. Remus Lupin, ironic. He couldn't see the man changing his name so it must be a birth name. Kenneth had a less suspecting name. He was simply Kenneth Mortlock Webber, the only vaguely magical connotation in his name being the Mortlock which had belonged to his great Grandfather.

Kenneth sighed tiredly, hurt by the ache in his side and nestled down against the pillows, opting for an afternoon nap. He was comforted by all Lupin had said to him and knew that he could owl if something happened, and he wouldn't be going home for a while, he'd be safe in the hospital. He didn't want to worry about the nearing full moon and as Lupin had advised him not to, he wouldn't. He decided what the man said about isolating himself was a good idea, and he pondered over that as he drifted between the lines of sleep and awake.

'Mr Webber, Mr Webber,' the voice of one of the nervous Healers roused him from his sleep and opened his eyes blearily to see the plump woman's figure standing on his bedside looking down at him with frightened eyes. 'Wake up, Mr Webber.'

'I'm awake,' he said groggily. 'What is it?'

'I was told to wake you and give you this,' she said her voice croaking as she handed him a letter. She scurried out without waiting for a thank you as soon as Kenneth took the letter.

He flipped it over to look at the crest stamped on the back that closed it and frowned. 'From the Ministry,' he murmured softly to himself still tired from sleep. He pried it open restlessly wondering since when the Ministry had started sending Christmas cards as the outside looked jolly enough to be one. His expression fell when he read the inside.

Another reminder of what he had become.

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