Disclaimer: Not Mine!
Fully Contaminated
"A full dose of the saliva was delivered into the blood stream several times, from what we can see," the voice of the doctors floated above my head to my parents, "I'm afraid that the prognosis is correct. Your daughter has a full blown case of lycanthropia."
"Oh my God," Mum broke down crying and buried her face in Dad's shoulder as he wrapped one arm around her and clasped my hands with his.
"Is there anything we can do? Isn't there a potion or treatment for Angela's condition?" he asked in a choked voice.
"It isn't a condition, Dad, it's a curse," I mumbled.
The mediwizard frowned and said, "It is a form of magical curse, Mr. Millay, but there is no counter charm or potion that can remove it. Some authorities believe that the death of the attacker by the victim is the only cure however this has never been proven. There is no guarantee that if Angela took the life of her assailant she was be alleviated of her condition."
"Then she's going to be like ---this for the rest of her life?" Mum asked wiping her tears away with a handkerchief, "I don't see how magic can have so many advances when there isn't a better treatment for Angela."
"Mrs. Millay, I want to assure you that everything will be done to help your daughter. But you have to understand that there hasn't been a break through in the treatment of lycanthropia since the invention of wolfsbane," he handed Dad a pamphlet on the subject and perched on the edge of his desk.
He was a young mediwizard, still handsome and fresh faced, but we had been assured that he was the best living authority on the management of werewolves. So far we hadn't been told anything that would make me normal, but even I knew that wasn't going to happen. I felt the changes taking place in my mind, body and behavior. The bite mark on my neck had faded slightly since the attack but it ached constantly, adding to the legion of new pain that I was plagued with.
My throat hurt where I had been bitten. My skin was hyper sensitive as was my hearing, sense of smell and eye sight. The overloading of sensory information caused another variety of torture to my life.
I had been found two days after I had been bitten. My unconscious, drugged, raped and infected body had been deposited at a public park where I was found by a muggle policeman. When I was examined and awake, I had been interrogated by two ministry officials who helped me to remove the memories of the event from my mind. They needed more evidence to help identify the werewolf who had bitten me. Because I had been dosed so heavily with potion, I couldn't remember what he looked like only his voice.
The ministry left with my memories and promised that they would be available if I should ever wish to view them. I couldn't imagine that I ever would.
"That's it?" Dad said in disgust, "That's all you can do for her?"
"It's the best we can do at this point, Mr. Millay. Lycanthropy affects every aspect of the human body and appears to bond strongest with witches and wizard than with muggles such as yourselves. While wolfsbane does more good to muggles with lycanthropy, the best we can hope with Angela is that it will aid her in transformation and keeping her mind during the full moon."
"Does it hurt?" I asked.
My voice sounded dull and hollow to my ears and a small silence followed my question. Mum and Dad took my hands again, but I looked up at the mediwizard for my answer. There was something in his manner that let me know he wasn't going to pull any punches.
"By all accounts the transformation is extremely painful," he answered, "Pain relievers don't have any effect on the patients which seems to be an arbitrary result of the infection. The closet we can come is wolfsbane."
Dad asked, "How do we get some? And what do we do when the full moon comes? We've only got two weeks until it happens and we still haven't gotten anywhere with how to deal with the transformation safely."
"That was going to be my next point," the doctor stood and went around to a cabinet, "I have a list of potions suppliers that you may purchase wolfsbane from but I have to warn you that it is very expensive. It is one of the most difficult potions to brew."
"That doesn't matter," Dad said stoutly, "We'll take care of that. What else?"
"I would like to admit Angela into a care program we have here at St. Mungo's when we can observe her and care for her during the first moon. She could continue her schooling while she's here and receive the greatest amount of care we can offer her during the initial period."
"How long would she have to be here?" Mum asked. She reached out and pulled my hair out of my eyes and began smoothing it over and over. She always does that when she's nervous or worried and she'd been doing a lot more since the attack. My now overly sensitive skin twinged whenever I was touched, but I didn't tell her.
"We'd like Angela to be with us for a month at most. Considering the level of infection it may be the safest thing until we can be sure that she is no threat to herself or others." His eyes dropped to me, "Would you like that Angela?"
"Can I get a glass of water?" I answered instead, "I'm really thirsty."
"Sure, there's a water cooler down the hall to your right," he replied.
I slipped out of the room and allowed the door to sigh shut behind me. There was a silencing ward on the door; but as I pressed my ear to the wood and murmured a removal charm, I could make out what my parents were saying.
"She's been so quiet lately that I don't know what she's feeling half the time," Mum wept, "She just sits and stares out the window with this hopeless look in her eyes—I feel like I've lost her."
"She won't even talk to the boys, she wants to be alone all the time." Dad added.
"Self imposed isolation is usual in these cases. Angela probably feels the changes taking place in her body and fears what they mean for you and herself. In all likelihood she is afraid that she'll harm you or your other children if she is near them. You're going to have to learn to deal with her desire to be alone until she can cope with her condition better. She needs you to understand more than ever before in her life." The doctor spoke gently.
"But I feel as if she's going through a depression that I can't begin to help her with and that frustrates me," Mum said angrily, "First we couldn't protect from attack and now I have no way of helping her cope. She hasn't even cried yet."
"Mrs. Millay, you have to recognize that there is no way for you to understand what your daughter is going through. Angela is in depression, deeply, but that in itself is the beginning of her coping mechanism. You have to let her work through this pain on her own. You will not always be at her side to help her along. And if Angela becomes dependent on you know she won't be able to function."
"But that can't be all we can do!" dad protested, "She's our little girl."
"Mr. Millay, your little girl is a werewolf."
"You son of a bitch!"
"Richard don't!"
"Mr. Millay you have to come to reality! Your daughter is capable of not only killing you but your entire family as well. You cannot treat her like a child any longer. That doesn't mean you have to stop loving her or caring for her, but the terms of that love must change. The methods of your care have to be overhauled."
"It's for Angela, Richard," Mum was trying to soothe Dad; "We have to do it for her."
"What if she doesn't want to come here?" Dad murmured.
I pressed closer to the door and ignored the look an orderly gave me as he passed. I could hear the pounding of his heart as he walked by and I was seized with an uncontrollable desire to tell him to shut the hell up. I even opened my mouth to speak when I realized the stupidity of such a request. Instead, I returned to the door in time to listen.
"Angela is still underage. If she resists confinement it may come up to you to sign her in. For her own good."
Mum broke in, "Isn't there anything else we can do?"
I shuddered and pushed away from the door, my heart thumping wildly in my chest. The thought of forced imprisonment in St. Mungo's was terrifying. I stumbled down the hall passed nurses and mediwitches and patients—were they werewolves? Not everyone was. I came to the water cooler and picked up a small paper cup in my hands. I stared at the swirling pattern on the wax side. It looked like the pattern of the bite mark on my throat. I slowly drove my thumbnail into the wax covered paper until it tore. Slowly, slowly, I tore the cup to shreds and let them fall to the ground.
For her own good, they had said.
I was suddenly cold and pulled my sweater close around me. The people walking by didn't notice me and I slipped into a heavily padded armchair in the waiting area. It wrapped its enchanted arms around me in comfort and warmth as it was made to do. I laid my head against the back and felt the warm leather against my skin; it smelled of perfume from the person who sat there before me. It was strangely comforting and safe. I wasn't moving if I could help it. And I would run away before I would allow them to keep me in this sterile, world.
000
I was laying on my bed when my door opened and Matthew stuck his head around the door.
"Can I come in?" he asked.
I shrugged, "I guess."
He closed the door and sat on the pink covered stool that sat before my vanity table. I hadn't used it since I came home and it suddenly appeared ridiculous for it to be in my room at all.
"How'd it go at St. Mungo's?"
"I'm a werewolf."
He nodded his curly dark head and pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose, "What are you going to do?"
"Mum and Dad were talking to the mediwizard and saying that they'd like to keep me there for the first full moon," I answered rolling to my side and looking at him blankly, "For my safety."
"It might be for the best, you never know," he said crossing his long arms over his chest and crossing his legs, "Since you won't be coming back to school."
"What did they say?"
"They were curious as to why you were withdrawing but they allowed it. You're a good enough student so if you ever wanted to go back they'd let you. And they let me know that should you choose to attend another institution they would write a recommendation."
"That's nice," I dropped my head down onto my pillows; "I'll miss them."
"You've been getting hundreds of owls from your chums and Tony and I've been writing back that you're too sick to answer," he smiled sadly, "I've lied hundreds of times that you've read their cards."
"They all say the same things," I answered sullenly.
"They mean it, Ange," Matthew answered sternly.
"I know."
He stands and stretches, "I thought you might like to have a head's up that Mum and Dad want to talk to you after supper. My guess is it has something to do with St. Mungo's."
"I won't go, Matthew."
"I don't know how much of a choice you've got," he answered, "But if you need help; remember that I'm legally allowed to use magic outside of school now."
It was a huge offer. Matthew could be arrested and have his wand snapped if he aided a werewolf in escaping confinement during the full moon. Unlike Anthony, who couldn't even look at me now, Matthew had approached my condition with a kind of scientific frankness that was just impersonal enough to be comfortable for me and personal enough to let me know he cared.
"Thanks, but you don't have to do that," I tried and failed to smile, "St. Mungo's probably isn't that bad."
"If you change your mind—" He left.
As soon as he was out of hearing I was up like a shot and locking the door. My heart was beating erratically and my legs were itching to be moving, far and fast. My entire body was overcome by the need to move and move anywhere fast. I needed—I needed to prowl.
