May your Guardian Angel be at your side to pick ya up off the floor
and hand ya another cold stout from the store.
(28 December 1977 - Half Past Midnight)
Everyone from Lizard Point to Dunnet Head knew that Lyall Lupin was an astonishingly light sleeper. The mere drop of a pin, the faint scatter of a field mouse running through his backyard, even the horn of a distant ship would have him up and readied with a wand before anyone could shout boo!
Thus, when he heard the bell trill, a feeble knocking to accompany it, at a half hour past midnight on that December night, there wasn't a doubt that the seasoned wizard had already shot upright, weapon in hand, shoving his feet into slippers, and swinging open the door to the hall.
"Lyall," muttered Hope from the bed, lifting up her eye mask and reaching her hand up to flip on the lamp.
"Shh!" Lyall looked to her with his index finger placed over his lips. His eyes turned to the distance, both waiting with bated breaths in fear that even their heartbeats would hinder their ability to hear.
'Dringggg!'
(45 Minutes Earlier)
"Welcome to the Knight Bus. Emergency transportation for the stranded witch or wizard, my name is Saurus Galloway, and I will be your conductor for this evening," a pudgy little man read aloud from a stack of flashcards. He had a chain connected from his breast pocket to the monocle sitting on his eye, and a white, whisker-like mustache over his lips. His eyes blinked wide and bright as they looked down at the bedraggled girl.
"No luggage, then?" he asked, seemingly oblivious to her current state.
"No," she replied in a broken breath, shaking her head.
"All right, come on in then," he said, waving her into the bus.
Eva didn't hesitate; her hand clasped around the bus' exterior pole, and with all her might, she hiked herself up onto the platform. The conductor stepped aside, continuing to blink periodically while letting her pass inside. It took a good while longer than it should have, having to use and touch every surface she could find in order to support herself. In the end, however, the struggle had been well worth the fight; the warmth hit her like a mother's touch to a lost child. Eva had to stifle a need to yelp with euphoria as she was no longer victim to the brittle winds.
"Where're you going?"
The euphoric moment passed within a question.
Eva's breath hitched in her chest, faltering as she realized that her plan stopped there. All she had needed was an exit, an escape, a way out of the dwarf island, and somewhere safe and warm where she could rest and think up the following part.
Her eyes toured the bus, looking over all the occupants. No one seemed dangerous, they all sat in their paid spaces and left themselves alone. Most of them had their hoods up, covering their eyes, probably asleep as they journeyed their way to wherever it was they had to be, or didn't. A stark contrast to herself, who was so naked, so open to them all. She gulped, casting her gaze to the floor as she bit down, and hard, on her own lip.
Eva knew that she couldn't go home, not right now at least. St. Mungo's was another viable option, except for the lingering fear that they'd see her state and call for an investigation. No, she definitely didn't wish to be further scrutinized.
Never in her life had she planned on running away, even if it was temporary. She should have, though, for she was no fighter, and she knew that. Not a warrior or a soldier, she'd never stay to battle through something, it was pure flight for her. And though she didn't know what the punishment was for kneeing a boy and biting off his earlobe, she couldn't risk another bout of hexes and jinxes. Not until she was fully healed, at least.
Could always go back to school, she thought. It was open for the holidays, but her wand was still at home and all of her required reading. And how stupid she had been to leave it. The thought alone made her want to bang herself against the glass— but no that would change, it would have to.
Besides, it was a lost option, even if she did return, the gate wasn't open. She'd be left outside of it, by the forest's edge, and most likely wouldn't get to see tomorrow.
"What time is it?" she asked out loud.
"10 to midnight," the conductor responded almost as if he had see the near future and had been ready with the answer on his lips. She turned to look at him, his eyes still owl-like and blinking at the same intervals as before.
"Where will you be going?" repeated the conductor— whose name Eva could not remember for the life of her. Her insides clenched. She'd bleed to death on this bus, and she'd freeze if she didn't stay on it— and what a morbid ending that would be.
Fisted hands lifted up to rub her eyes, causing her already smudged makeup to smudge even deeper, causing it to streak across from the corner of her eye to her temple.
It hadn't been a solution in the slightest— it had only been another problem.
"I'VE A FUNERAL IN PENMON, WALES TO GET TO," shouted an old wizard from the back of the bus. Eva turned to look at him, deep wrinkles and a dark beard covering his entire face. She ignored him, looking over and out of the dark windows, nothing but the distant lighthouse and the bus' glow to give light. But then, very suddenly, her brows furrowed and she turned to the back of the bus, seeking out that face from seconds ago. He had seemed all too familiar, the shouting old wizard, but her eyes sought every corner, every bed, and there was no one of the sort there.
"Where'd he go?" she inquired, more to herself than to the anyone else.
"Where'd who go?" asked Saurus Galloway.
"That man right there."
"What man?" Eva ignored him, down casting her eyes back to the floor as she continued to suck and tamper with her bottom lip.
"Wales," she repeated in a stupor.
"Wales? Penmon?"
She swiveled her neck so that she was looking at him, both her and the whiskered man blinking in unison. She didn't know whether he was mocking her, or if this was a nightmare, and she'd wake up in her bed back in London. But there was no reason for such an obscure little place in this world to sound so familiar.
"What?" she wondered, her words raspy as she whispered them out. Her chin pushed forward, mouth falling open with knit brows as she searched those glossy eyes for some sort of explanation.
"Penmon, Wales is it, then?" he reiterated.
"No," she exclaimed, shaking her head, "why would you say that?"
"I didn't, miss, you did. You have a funeral to get to," Saurus Galloway countered. Eva didn't even have the words to argue, the conductor was already dialing and punching out her ticket. The next thing she knew, he handed her a flimsy piece of paper, which she took cautiously, moving her gaze from him and down to the faint print on it.
"I," she paused, reading the ticket, "I don't understand."
"A galleon and five sickles for passage to Penmon, Wales."
Penmon, Wales, she repeated to herself, still eyeing the piece of scrap between her dirt-ridden fingers. She knew nothing of Penmon, Wales; didn't even know where it was, whether it be south or north, east or west. Never had she heard of it, and yet it sounded so familiar, as if someone had told her in passing conversation. She raked her entire head for some answer, but nothing came to her, not in that moment.
A witch laying on a bed diagonal from her began to grumble, mumbling insults her way as she peeked at Eva from the corner of her eye. The younger witch took a deep breath, hands wrapping around the pearl necklace around her neck and yanking it off with a sharp pull.
"It was bought for 360 galleons. It's brand new, you could easily sell it for the same amount— It's all I have, sorry." Before she could finish her bargain, Saurus Galloway had snatched it out of her hands and pocketed it. He turned around, waddling towards the pole by the divider and knocked on the front window.
They were off before Eva could even find her footing. She reached out to hold onto the miniature latch on the window, her eyes wide as she attempted to re-balance herself. But the way her arms stretched forward made the shards of glass shove further into her shoulder blade, causing a groan to bleed out of her.
Eventually, Eva managed to position herself against an empty space before the beds, sliding down the wall and clutching her knees to her body. She hadn't an idea where she was going, or why she had repeated the words of the elfish man, no matter how familiar he looked, or how familiar those words sounded.
"Excuse me," she called out to Saurus Galloway. He turned his head over his shoulder, peering out to her. "Where in Penmon am I going?"
"The monastery," he responded, rolling his neck back to the front.
Eva's brows furrowed together, her entire face scrunched up as she eyed the floor. She detailed her way up and down the scuff marks, trying to reach into the depths of her mind and find the memory that she so craved. And then, as the bus came to a halt somewhere in Wessex County, her head shot straight up, off the tops of her knees, and her entire face dropped.
"There's nothing there— only a muggle monastery and one house. I quite literally live in the only house in Penmon."
They let the doorbell sing for a good thirty seconds. In these thirty seconds, Hope's eyes had widened into two tea saucers, and she, too, had scrambled out of bed to creep behind her husband.
"What time is it?" she whispered from behind him, both approaching as they leaned over the railing to look down the staircase.
"Go wake Remus," Lyall instructed, brushing off her previous question. "Get your coats, be ready to floo out of here, okay?"
She faltered, pausing a moment before pressing her lips together and nodding. Hope squeezed her husband's arm, both of their hearts beating at unnaturally fast paces.
"Hope," came his voice, this time turning to hold her gaze, "don't wait for me, no matter what happens."
"Lyall."
"Promise me, for Remus."
It took a moment, but she gave in, nodding once again before tiptoeing to the right of the center staircase and across the hall. In that same second, Lyall had begun to descend the stairs, every step calculated, a curse spelt on his lips if they, whoever they were, managed to get through the array of wards he had put up to protect their home.
"Remus," Hope whispered as she stepped into her son's room. He didn't stir, laying on his back with his hand over his chest. His mouth left wide open, a barely-there snore releasing out into the night every time he inhaled. She smiled, her eyes expressing the opposite emotion, ashamed that she had to disturb his peaceful slumber. "Remus," she repeated, approaching and standing over him. Hope ran veined, sun-spotted hands through his hair, causing Remus to flip his face to the other side.
"Remus," Hope said for a third time, shaking his shoulder.
"Wha?" he grumbled, not opening his eyes.
"Your father says to get your coat and your wand, we may need to leave—" He was up, rubbing at his eyes and blinking them awake.
"What?" he said again, this time stronger and clearer. But as Hope went to repeat her previous instructions, the doorbell rang throughout the house again.
A deep scrunch formed between his eyebrows, his head moving away from his mother to look out into the hall.
"Who—"
"We don't know, but you need to be ready—"
Remus' hand shot out for his wand, pushing himself off the bed and stalking out into the hall. He didn't bother stopping at his dresser, or picking up the jacket that laid upon it. Instead, he palmed the edge of the railing, looking over the edge just as his parents had done moments ago.
"Dad," he whispered.
"What!?"
"What's going—"
"Remus," came his mother's voice, her hands around his arm. "You need to get your coat, cariad, we—"
"I can fight now, mam. I'm good, really," he told her, his eyes boring down into her own. "Tad," Remus whispered again over the railing.
"What!?"
"Who is it?"
"I don't know," his dad responded. "I can't see anything— it's raining too hard."
Remus sighed, his wand in one hand, his other arm reaching around to wrap around his mother's shoulders. They stayed like that, Remus knowing that, even though he could stand by his father's side, he had to protect his mother and get ready to flee if it required to do so.
All three hearts thumped, beating out together and filling up, chorusing with the continuous trilling.
"I'm going to open it— you two be ready—"
"We are," Remus assured him, clutching his mother even tighter.
Downstairs, with shut eyes and held breath, Lyall's hands wrapped around the copper door handle. He felt his skin jittery, electrified, everything within him wanting to combust as he began to press down on it.
Originally, he had meant to swing it open, to use the element of surprise to attack whoever dared disturb them at this hour. But he hesitated, first peeking out through the crack, his wand wedged between the door and the pane; the cold air came rushing in, goosebumps running up and down his spine.
His eyes narrowed at the sight: a girl, a very short girl, at wearing nothing more than a tattered red dress, which he couldn't quite distinguish with the amount of blood she had staining every surface. Her chin, her chest, her hands, her feet all covered and soiled in a mix of different elements.
Their eyes met— puffy and charcoaled against bright and bulging.
"Who are you and what do you want?" Lyall spat out, wand still pointed at the girl.
"I—" she could barely talk, the words too hard to pronounce, too hard to even think, "I'm sorry."
Upstairs, both Remus and Hope listened to the best of their abilities. But neither could make out anything, only the sound of rain pattering against the roof and his father shouting at whoever it was.
"You need to leave," Lyall demanded.
Eva felt dizzy, weak in her legs and knees, and a need to burrow herself into a whole and disappear. In a matter of moments, she knew that she would end up blacking out on Remus Lupin's doorstep, and most likely end up becoming the laughing stock of the entire school. He'd remember her for this, half-naked and whimpering as she begged for shelter.
Fucking lovely.
"We can't help you, I'm sorry," Lyall continued, shaking his head, though she couldn't even make out anything besides his eyes and the tip of his wand.
She gulped, the pain in her chest clawing at her from the inside.
"Please," Eva begged, her eyes fluttering to a near close, "I'm here— I'm here, here because of Remus."
Lyall froze, his face turning to ash as he took in her words. The last time anyone had come to their home at this time of the night, unannounced for his son, had been the worst night of their entire lives.
"Absolutely not—"
"Please, let me— zere's really no where—" she sighed, tears running down her face as she shook her head and gave up. "I'm so-s-sorry. I didn't mean, intend to disturb you and your family."
Upstairs, the tight embrace that Remus had had around his mother's slight shoulders began to loosen. He blinked, one eye narrowing as he heard a distinct feminine voice with a guttural r, but not harsh, apologize. "Fuck," he cursed, hands flying off his mother and his legs clambering down the stairs.
"Remus—" but he pushed passed his father and widened the door.
"Bloody hell," Remus said as soon as his eyes were on her.
She looked horrible, even worse than when he'd seen her at the hospital wing. Everything torn apart, from her skin to her clothing, as if she'd been traipsing through a forest.
"Come on," he told her, reaching out without much thought and taking her into his arms.
"I'm so sorry," she sobbed.
"It's okay, you're all right," he assured her, escorting her into the house.
"Who— Remus, explain," said his father, looking between the two. All the while, Lyall made room for the pair to step into the home, closing the door behind them, locking it with a charm, and keeping the cold where it belonged.
"I never meant," she cried, attempting to control herself in the presence of Remus and his family. "I really, I understand it's the middle of the night and—" Her fingers reached to wipe away the rivulets streaming down her cheeks. "I didn't know where else to go, I had—"
He didn't wait for her to finish, his chest clenching painfully as he brought her into his chest and held her there. His father held his gaze, his mother rushing down the stairs, gasping as soon as she caught sight of the girl's sliced back.
"She's a friend of mine," Remus informed his parents, "I know her."
Lyall looked to his wife, who stared back with startled eyes.
"We should take her to St. Mungo's, Remus."
"I need my kit, mam," Remus requested from his mother, ignoring his father's advice. She nodded, descending the rest of the steps and heading into the kitchen.
"Remus," his father beckoned again, this time reaching out for his son's shoulder.
"Not now, okay? Please," Remus hissed. Lyall hesitated, but surrendered with his gaze to the wooden floor. He stepped back, doing a once-over of Eva.
"She'll need a bath," he said before Remus could push her into the kitchen. "Or else it'll fester, and then we'll really need to get her to the healers."
Hope came back into the front hall with the tin box they kept all of Remus' needs in. He took it from her, one hand still perched around Eva as her rain-drenched body soaked right through his clothing. He could feel her trembling, shaking against his body. Her skin was ice cold, her hair nearly icicles as the remnants of rain dripped off the ends and onto his toes.
"I'll put the kettle on," said Hope, receiving a single nod from her son. With his kit in hand, Remus tightened his grip across her back, causing Eva to yelp out in pain. Her fingers clawed into his shirt, and she sucked in air through her teeth as her eyes shut closed and she dealt with the force. Immediately, Remus released her, staring at her pinched face with something akin to utter horror.
"Did I hurt you? I didn't— I'm so— I was only trying to get you upstairs, into the bath—"
"I can get up just fine," she assured him, holding up a bleeding, sand-filled palm. Eva turned to glance up the stairs, making way over to the railing as both Remus and his father watched from behind. She took her steps slow, each time eyeing the next with great dismay, as if the gods were tricking her and kept adding another to the top.
"Eva, if it's too much— I can levitate you up—"
"I'm fine," she snapped, clenching her teeth together.
She closed her eyes, tears beginning to spill out, once more. "I'm sorry," she said, her words torn with guilt. A small sigh escaped her, eyes turned downwards with both pain and shame.
Eva knew that she shouldn't have been there. She hardly knew him, and now she'd put a burden across his shoulders; and not only his, but his family's as well. It was nearly one in the morning, they had been sleeping, and she'd woken them, terrified them to the point where his father had been very much ready to kill. Now they were taking care of her, and instead of feeling grateful, she felt awful. Embarrassed, mortified, and at the same time relieved that she was inside and away from the cold.
Oh, and how it had been so cold. It was raining in Wales, rain that hit her like ice bricks, her entire body blue and purple not only from the hits she had taken, but from the lack of blood coursing through her body. The monastery was not nearly as close as it should have been, and the walk from there to here, a house in the far distance, had been gruesome. The only thing that had kept her from laying down in the frozen ground had been knowing that the Lupins would have found her there, dead.
It sure was a wonder how she was still alive.
Her legs halted, eyeing the rest of the steps, challenging them. One more swivel in her hip, she lifted up her knee and let it crash back down onto the following plank. A groan came out of her, similar to the carnality of the one on the bus.
"Eva," came Remus' voice from behind her. More tears rushed out of her, irritated and irate. His hands were on her shoulders, holding her. "It's only four more steps. You can do it."
She nodded solemnly, one foot in front of the other, and together, they managed to climb up what remained.
He continued to lead her to the left, into the first door by the front windows. It was all cream, ceramic tiles underneath her that indicated they were in a bathroom. Something warm wrapped around her, and she looked to find a fluffy towel over her shoulders. She clutched it tight, standing pathetically as he walked over to the tub basin and turned on the water. Steam rose up from it, enveloping both of them into a warm, much-needed humidity.
Remus shuffled behind her, laying the tin kit on the bathroom counter as he clicked it open and ran his finger across the main cork caps.
"What exactly," Remus began, trying his best to avoid looking at her.
For he knew that if he did, he couldn't be certain of how he'd react. Now that they were underneath the bathroom light, it would all be as clear as day, every single detail bare for him to see and analyze. "What exactly is it that you have?"
"Glass," she responded in a small voice, "in my back."
Whether he had wanted it or not, the answer had forced him to look to her. Remus wasn't sure what he had been expecting, or whether it had been more wish fulfillment, but there was no other word to call it but ugly. The ugliest he had ever seen her, even worse than all the blood that clotted into her hair and onto her hospital gown. His stomach hardened, his jaw clenched as he scrutinized her: gaunt, shadowy, lifeless.
"You can cast either a removal spell or vanishing spell," she began, not able to meet his gaze, "whichever is easiest for you."
Remus' mouth fell, his neck leaning forward. He found that he had to support himself with a palm on the sink basin, looking down to the kit and registering what she had requested.
"Yeah," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I can do that."
"I would do it, but I— I don't have my wand."
"I can do it, don't worry," he assured her, pushing himself off the edge of the sink. "How 'bout you sit with your feet in the water? It'll warm you up, and I'll handle the glass."
She hesitated, blinking from him to the ground.
"What?" he asked. "What's wrong?"
"I think I have to take off my dress."
He paused, brows furrowing for the millionth time that early morning.
"Why? Where's the glass, exactly?"
"My back, mostly, hips too."
Remus' lips pursed together into a tight line, catching sight of a bleeding, painted toenail.
"Okay, um," he paused, rummaging through his head for what would be the proper words in such a situation. "I mean, Eva, if you're uncomfortable, then my mother can do it manually. Um, but, I really," Remus began to shake his head, his entire face scrunching up as his indignant, but at the same concerned, eyes looked to her. "I don't care— I just, I don't. Okay? You could be completely nude, and the last thing on my mind— I don't give a rat's arse, okay? I don't."
Whether he had been dreaming it, or whether it had been a moment of comic relief amongst a boat of grey, he detected the faintest of smiles appearing on her lips.
"I'll cover myself with the towel," she said, glimpsing up at him through her eyelashes.
"Okay," he nodded, "I'll wait outside, call for me when you're ready."
Remus exited the bathroom and closed the door behind him, but not without leaving a sliver open. He leaned against the wall, looking up to the ceiling, footsteps climbing the stairs in the distant.
"Remus," his dad called out to him in a whisper, looking to the faint light trailing out the door. "What's going on?"
He looked to the door, grabbing his dad's forearm and pulling both of them further away from it.
"I don't know, not really," Remus began, "but she's completely beat— I mean there're glass shards in her back." He saw his father's eyes blink wider. "Yeah, I didn't ask, I will when she's feeling a little better."
"Who is she?"
"Eva."
"Eva? Eva who? Seven years you've been going to that school, and not once have I heard of an Eva."
"Eva... Eva Manasse—"
"Manasse!? Remus, we should take her to St. Mungo's. This is irresponsible—"
"Tad," Remus interrupted, "I know, and if it were anyone else I'd agree with you. But Eva... Eva doesn't do something without thinking it through, and she always picks the most rational—"
"Not when they're scared—"
"Just," Remus' eyes closed, his fingers reaching up to pinch their corners. He opened them, once again, after releasing a deep sigh. "Please, trust me. If she came here, it's for a reason. She's terrified out of her wits, and I'm not going to make her feel threatened—"
"That's not—"
"I know, but please, I'll handle this. You and mam can go back to sleep, this is nothing compared to what I'm used to."
Lyall's eyes flitted over the scars that crossed his son's face, frowning as he averted his gaze to the window.
"Your mum's gonna' leave a tray of tea and biscuits in your room, she said the sheets in the guest room aren't clean—"
"I'll sleep on the couch," Remus assured him. His father nodded, still not meeting his gaze as he took on a rather distant look in his eyes.
"Is she your girlfriend?" Lyall finally asked, his voice even lower than before. Remus' jaw slackened, a slight heat creeping up the back of his neck, grateful that no one had bothered to turn on any of the lights.
"What!?" he flustered, scoffing. "No!"
His father raised a brow, perplexed by the abrupt defensiveness.
"She's— Can we please talk about this in the morning?"
"Very well," Lyall agreed. "I suppose this is goodnight— and say goodnight to your friend, as well. We'll discuss further in a couple of hours."
Though it had only been mere seconds, Remus found himself grateful when his father finally disappeared around the bend and into his room. He let out another sigh as the door shut to a close.
"Hello," announced a voice from he door. Remus turned around, watching Eva as she peeked out from behind it. "I heard voices, I didn't want to interrupt—"
"You should have," he said, ashamed that she had spent time, even five seconds more, in pain for the sake of a conversation between him and his father. "Ready?"
She nodded, opening the door a little wider to allow him in. His eyes roamed over her, clad in only a towel, her soaked dress folded onto the towel rack.
"Okay, so," he began, looking back to the kit, "I'll— why don't you sit with your feet in the tub? This way the warm water'll heat you up while I— you know." There were no protests on her part, willingly walking over to the bathtub and placed one foot at a time into the basin. The heat felt odd against the pre-frostbite, both making her feel welcomed and causing tears to form in her ducts.
"All right," Remus said as she took a seat on the cool ceramic edge. He followed, sitting beside her with his feet in the opposite direction. "I need to see, Eva." His words sounded sorrowful, as if he'd wished that this hadn't fallen upon either one of them. She rubbed her nose, a similar thickness from before, but not quite the same one, forming along the coating of her throat.
Taking her time, Eva eventually turned to sit in a diagonal position from him. She let the towel drop from her back, clutching it to her chest and closing her eyes as she let him observe the damage.
Remus winced at what she had revealed. His entire body wanting to curl up into itself and look away from the sight. There were six large shards, and a dash of smaller ones, wedged, for the most part, in her shoulder blades and along the upper most part of her back. A rather thick piece, however, had lodged her hip, causing the gash to look petrifying as it hindered the blood that wanted to gush out of it.
"Who—" he began, without even realizing that he'd said it. His eyes ran further down, finding four bruises in the shape of lines bending across her hip. Something erupted inside him, a dormant volcano that had begun to spew ash from the moment he'd laid eyes upon her at the door. "Did—" he couldn't get the words out, not sure whether what he wanted to ask made all that much sense. "Did, someone— Eva, did someone rape you?"
"No," she spat out a little too fast.
"Eva, we should go to the healers—"
"No one did anything, please," she implored, "just, please."
"I know, but Eva... there could be evidence—"
"NOTHING HAPPENED!"
More tears ruptured out of her as she place her forehead into her hands. Remus blinked down to his socks, which were wet with the trail of rain that pooled at the bottom of her dress. His brows furrowed together, his lips pressed in a thin light as she weeped.
"I'm sorry," he heard her apologize between sobs. Remus frowned, taking a deep breath and pushing forward.
"Don't need to apologize," he gave in, "it's your decision, ultimately." He twirled his wand in his hand, brushing her hair away over her shoulder. "This is going to sting—"
"I know."
With years of practice, the only insecurity Remus felt in that moment was the knowledge that it'd only cause more pain for her. But with a deep breath, his pulled his wand back to a decent distance, so that it'd grasp her entire back, before casting: "Evanesco."
The shards disappeared from her back, somewhere into the unknown, far away and no longer aching her body. Eva whimpered, nonetheless, her entire body flinched forward as her fingernails clutched into the towel. The wounds were ever so present, the feeling of hot liquid trailing out of them.
"I'll close them up now, okay?" Remus informed her.
"Yeah."
If the first part had been distressing, the second part would be nothing short of pure, raw agony.
"I'm sorry for this," Remus apologize in advance, gulping down the guilt as he took on a pained expression. Eva nodded, shutting her eyes as she awaited the conclusion.
"Vulnera Sanentur," he casted, trailing his wand over one wound. The bleeding slowed, almost to a complete stop, and they could hear her flesh knitting back together with a distasteful squish. Remus paused, looking over the now stitched wound, and then back over to the remaining five. His fingers palmed his thigh, blinking before taking in another deep breath and repeating the spell and the motion of the next one.
And every time, until he finished, Eva wondered why Death wasn't merciful enough to take her life, why it kept her alive to live through only pain and despair.
"The deeper ones'll scar," Remus told her.
"I know," she responded weakly.
After another handful of minutes, Remus finally finished with the more superficial wounds.
"Tergeo," he casted over her entire back. Both the dried up blood, and the wet, new one, disappeared, as if it hadn't even been there in the first place. "Okay, I'm done."
She paused, turning with caution to look over her shoulder at him. They held each other's gaze, Remus finding it curious that there was a puzzle in her own. They searched over every corner of his skin, and he suddenly realized that he wasn't the only naked one there. His blood dropped to his feet, fingers reaching up to the faint, white lines running across every part of his structure.
"Uh, I—" he began, trying to conjure up some sort of believable excuse.
"Thank you," she said, turning back to the steaming water. "Thank you for helping, you've gone above and beyond, and I promise to repay you—"
"Eva," he stopped her, "don't even think about it. And don't ever be ashamed to ask for help, please. I'm glad you're here."
"Thank you," she whispered.
Silence followed, before Remus leaned over with his elbows pressed down into his thighs.
"I'm going to go get you an extra set of clothes, you take as long as you need," he explained, getting up from the edge of the bathtub. "I'll leave some ointment here, to put on those bruises when you finish, and then we'll drink some tea to warm up. Okay?"
"Okay, thank you."
Remus lifted himself up, heading over to the door.
"And I'm going to leave this a little open— everyone else is sleeping, so it's only me. You know, just in case, I want to be able to hear you if, if something happens."
"Please don't worry about me," she said, looking over to him. A small, sad smile donned her face, causing Remus to force his own. But where her eyes were solemn and confused with her surroundings, his were beginning to come to an epiphany. One of self-discovery, where he realized that there was a sick relief that came with all of this.
This was not him and his mother after a particularly brutal full moon. No one was here to patch up his wounds, James wasn't there to carry him down the steps, or Peter to wake and feed him his meals. It was gratifying in the most horrid way, because, for once, he was the healer, the protector, the guardian, aiding someone weak and broken. Someone needed him, truly and actually relied on him, not the other way around. All his life, he had felt absolutely useless in comparison to everyone else, and now there was this person, this one person, who had come to his door, sought him out, needed him to comfort and soothe her through a traumatic experience.
And he loved it, loved that she needed him.
And he needed her to need him, because no one ever needed him.
"I'll be back with that set of clothes," he finally said, breaking the silence. Without waiting for a response, nor expecting one, he turned the door knob and walked out into the drafty halls, leaving her to her thoughts.
Back in the bathroom, Eva emerged herself into the heated water, closing her eyes and aching to fall asleep in its warmth. She could feel the icy tundra wash away from her loins; her fingers no longer dull and useless, but re-igniting with sensation. Blood followed, rushing back into her face, pinching her cheeks with a faint color, no longer looking like a broken vampire of sorts.
However, with life came emotions. The need to cry returned, a hammer already pounding her hear, her eyes blood-shot with the tears of the past. She took in a deep breath, ignoring the urge, and with one last push, sunk herself into and under the water. The cold from her head washed away with everything else, and she came back up with a small gasp, her breasts heaving up and down as oxygen rushed back into them.
She brought her knees to her chest, clutching them and laying her cheek across them. Minutes passed, nothing to around to unsettle her, even the water in which sat undulating only when she wished it to.
The door opened, causing her to jolt in her place, eyes turning up to watch that which dared disturb her peace. Her shoulders visibly relaxed when she caught sight of Remus coming in, holding neatly folded pajamas in his hands.
"I found— I mean, I'm not— my knowledge of tailoring spells is a little slim," he admitted, looking down to the pile, "but— here— I mean this is a shirt that's a little tight on me, and a pair of pajamas with a drawstring— so I'm sure if you tightened it enough— but you'll have to be careful not to trip, uh, 'cause." Remus looked up, wondering whether his ramblings were more painful to listen to than the wounds etched in her shoulders. "There's also a pair of socks, uh," he looked down to his hands, "Think that's all."
"It's fine, Remus, thank you—"
He lifted a palm in order to call her to a halt and placed the clothing on top of the toilet seat.
"I've put the tea under a stasis charm— so it'll be piping hot when you get out." His hands ran over the kit that still sat along the edge of the sink. He closed the metallic lid, carrying it into his arms as he turned to look at her.
"I'll be out in a second," she said, catching sight of his own sleep wrought eyes, bags of black thick underneath them.
"No rush, really," he assured her, giving one last fleeting smile before turning around, kit in hand, and back out into the hall.
Remus retreated into his room, plopping himself into the armchair. He scrubbed a hand over his face, leaving the palm over his eyes as he casted them to the floor, deep in thought. In the time he'd left her, he'd managed to conjure up a weak, low-burn fire, simply embers that would keep her warm along with the charms he had placed on the blankets.
The beginnings of a sleepy fuzziness began to well up inside of him, coming to an abrupt stop when a creak by the door forced him wide awake, once again.
Eva stood there, seeming a little unsure as she bit on her lower lip and held her hand against the door pane, looking into the room. All he could make out from underneath his fumble and jumble of clothes, which were drowning her, was the wet hair that laid across her shoulder. He scratched his nose, eyeing the drawstring that she had pulled to its utter ends, the tips of her sock-clad toes barely visible.
"Sorry 'bout the clothes," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair.
Eva shrugged, not taking her gaze off the rest of the room. It was humble and empty, that's all it was. There was an armchair in the corner between the fireplace and the window; and a bed just across from it, on the opposite side between the fireplace and the wall. The bed — which, Eva noticed, wasn't much of a bed, but rather a mattress — had a colorful assortment of pillows and throw blankets. Besides that, there was only a dresser: no wardrobe, no closet, not even a mirror. Only a dresser with books piled high both on top and underneath it. An odd little room, indeed, and yet, compared to the endless fill of furniture and knick-knacks they had accumulated in the French embassy, this room seemed ten times more tender.
"You want me to dry your hair for you?" Remus asked, lifting himself up from the chair to approach her.
"If it's not a problem, I can always—"
His wand was already out before she could finish. Eva turned around, allowing him to cast a quick drying spell over her strands. Though successful, the spell, not casted with the efficiency as someone who was adept to it, made her hair poof up, frizzy in every way possible. He grimaced at his own work, hoping that he wasn't making her already grisly night even worse.
"Thank you," she said, turning back around as she ran a hand through her hair.
Despite the dim light, Remus really got the chance to look at her now. Not with the blood stains, not with the dirt, just her in all her innocence. Sure, there was a bruise developing across one cheek bone, an abrasion underneath it. Her eyes looked a little too large, and the winter winds had chapped her lips. There were no glamour charms in play to hide the blemish on her chin, or the blotchy eyes and the purple bags. Eva was just that— Eva.
"How do you feel?" he asked. She wrapped her arms around her body.
"Good, better, thank you."
"Are you cold?"
She hesitated, pursing her lips. Remus raised his brows, bowing his head to level it with her own. A smug smirk pushing the edges of his lips upward as he waited for her response, even though he knew the answer.
"A little, yeah."
"Climb on into bed. I've gone around the house and stole every blanket I could find— go on," he directed her, gesturing towards the bed with both his eyes and his chin. She glanced over at it, a pause in her entire stance stiffening.
"I'm sleeping here?" she asked, her voice wavering. He paused, faltering as his lips came into an unsure pout.
"Uh, I mean, I know it's not much — the guest room isn't exactly prepared for—"
"But where will you sleep? Isn't this your room?"
"Yes," he replied, "and on the couch downstairs—"
"No."
"It's quite comfortable, prefer it sometimes," he chuckled shortly. Remus was something short of astounded when he caught sight of her previous insecurities driving away into limbo. Something bordering irritation as her eyes blinked more than her words functioned.
"That'd be incredibly rude of me, Remus— I absolutely can not do something like that in a house where I'm a guest—"
"Eva, please, don't worry—"
"No."
They both stared at one another; two bulls in an arena, neither willing to give up.
And then he began to smile, a smile that gradually turned into a laugh because he was fighting with her, knowing that there really wasn't much she could do about it.
"Come on, drink some tea, you'll warm up," he told her, sitting back down into the armchair. He reached over, placing his fingers into the hook of the pot and pouring it into one of the mugs. The steam lifted up into the room, making it smell like a mix of flowers and herbs. "It's camomile— it'll help you relax."
Reluctantly, she lowered herself down onto the shallowness of his bed. It was odd sharing in something so intimate— a bed, a room. Somewhere a person was left to their own devices, where they could dwell into secrets and mysteries, ones they never had to confess to anyone except the walls.
She reached forward for her cup, which Remus held out to her.
"Be careful, it's hot."
She bunched up the extra material of Remus' shirt and protected herself from the heat, although she'd stick her hand onto one of those glowing wooden logs if it meant the bone-chill would leave.
Silence followed, Eva staring down into the cup; Remus doing the same, but taking moments to glimpse down at her. He wanted to talk, wanted to know what happened, wanted to know who had hurt her, but she was a private person, and private people needed trust and reassurance before opening their mouths.
He'd wait, and he'd make sure to be there when she decided to finally put herself in his hands.
On the other hand, everything inside Eva told her to stay, and yet she was already scheming herself out. She knew she couldn't, this was a burden, she was a burden to Remus, who was on holiday to spend time with his family. He shouldn't have to pretend to play Healer to some witch who had been more than willing to drop him only weeks ago.
She took another sip from her tea, ignoring his watchful stare.
"You could sleep in the bed with me," Eva offered, muttering it into the chamomile.
"Um," he managed, warmth creeping up the back of his neck. "If this is because of the couch thing— Eva—"
"I can't sleep knowing that you'll wake up with a bad back for my sake," she confessed. "You have a fort of pillows, we'll put one between us, but we're not twelve, we should be mature enough to sleep next to one another— I think."
Remus looked away from her, his eyes boring into the glowing embers in his fireplace. The only members of the opposite sex he had ever fallen asleep with was his mother and Lily. And Eva was far from both of them. He'd kissed her, he'd thought of her during hot showers, his boyish imagination had done things to her which, in that moment, repulsed him. And not that he hadn't done the same with Lily, but those were long-lost third year feelings that had passed quicker than a summer's breeze.
Besides, what if he snored? Or, Merlin forbid, farted in his sleep? What if she was a awake to experience all of that? How horrified would she be of him? What if she never spoke to him again because he had accidentally embraced her in his sleep? If any of those were to occur, he'd never live it down. Remus reckoned that he would withdraw himself before ever facing her after something of that sort.
"Eva, it's really okay—"
"I don't want to be alone," she lied, looking to him, knowing that he couldn't refuse her.
You said you'd be there, mate, a voice reminded him, and with a sigh and an affirming nod— he agreed. Remus brought the rim of the cup to his lips, drinking it all in.
"Biscuit?" he asked, trying to ignore the dampness accumulating in his palms.
"No, thank you."
"We'll sleep in tomorrow— wake up for afternoon tea," he heartened, chuckling into the cup as he took another sip. There was no response, only silence and a gulp. "Tired?"
"A little."
"All right." He brought the mug, for a final time, to his lips and finished it off. She followed suit, lifting herself up from the bed in order to place the cup back onto the tray. Eva waited for him, movements slow as both looked to one another with hesitant, nervous gazes.
"Uh, which side do you prefer?" he managed to ask, feeling the heat veil over his face, turning it bright red. The only salvage was the amber glow coming from the hearth.
She shrugged, beginning to feel shy as she realized that she was about to get into bed with him.
"I'll take the inside," she suggested, turning to eye the corner. He nodded, waiting for her to climb in.
Eva crawled around, knees pressed into the mattress as she made her way over to he space. Remus watched as she pressed herself right up against the wall, inching her legs underneath the comforter and the blankets, sitting there looking at the hands on her lap. He knew she wasn't comfortable, and he felt horrid for doing this, felt awful for liking it, and not only for the reason that he'd be there for her if she woke up from a nightmare.
"You sure you don't want me downstairs?" he asked one last time.
"Yes, I'm sure," she sighed, running a hand through her frizzy curls.
With a deep sigh, Remus followed, taking up the space closest to the edge. He sat, like her, with his back straight against the wall behind him. Uncomfortable in every way possible, he wondered if there was something, anything to ease the tension. And suddenly, he understood why Sirius kept a flask of whiskey underneath his pillow— these situations sure merited a shot.
He felt her shift, moving his eyes over to see Eva worming herself further down into the bed; her hair spreading out across the pillows, and turning her body so that her back was to him. He followed suit, back turned to her, looking out to the fireplace glow as a million things ran through his mind.
"You wake me if you need anything," he told her. No response, but he knew she'd heard, just as he knew she wouldn't make the slightest gesture that she needed help, making him wonder if staying up all night would be a better, safer option.
But if there was one thing Remus loved, it was sleep. And between the sound of her breathing, the warmth that both she and the fire generated — even though she was most likely frozen — mixed with the chamomile tea, made his eyes come to a gradual close. He'd lift them up every time he realized, pushing himself to keep awake, but it was of no use.
Before he knew it, hours had passed and he was waking up to the sun shining through gray clouds and straight into his eyes. He groaned, flipping over in his bed, sleep still ever-present in his mind as he spread out over the entire width of the bed. His cheek nestled further into the pillows, his bones cracking as he smacked his dry lips together.
And then, in one sudden epiphany, both eyes flashed open and Remus realized one thing— he was the only one in the bed.
A:N/ ignore me when I say that i'm going to post earlier, because apparently it's all lies. Okay, I know this is a boring-ish chapter, trust me, next chapter is much more interesting. I can't believe this took me like 5 hours to edit, liek why? I think it's cause I was watching Broadchurch. Anyway, I hope y'all liked this. Leave a review with comments/reactions/general love/advice/constructive criticism, AND A BIG THANK YOU AND HUG TO ALL OF YOU WHO LEFT A REVIEW LAST WEEK. Y'ALL MADE MY FUCKING WEEK, LITERALLY. BLESS YOU ALL.
also, changed the names of the chapters because my last few have been kind of whimsical, so I decided to make them all like that. hope that didn't bother anyone. Quote up there will become relevant next , remus' room having a fireplace may be weird, but i literally searched up houses in anglesey, wales (where penmon is located) and the one i based the lupin's house off of had fireplaces in every room (i think the bathroom, too).
okay love you all, see you next week. xx. A.