Hogwarts School Challenges and Assignments: Assignment #8
Care of Magical Creatures: Mooncalves
Task #1: Write about something happening during a full moon.
Warnings: Very mild injury mention, and hospital setting, but nothing descriptive.
Lysander didn't put much stock in superstitious idiocy, but even he could admit that shifts at St Mungos were always busier during a full moon. It was common knowledge that he hated star signs and prophecies and tea leaves; common knowledge that was only amplified by having failed his Divination OWL for implying that the examiner could have done with removing the crystal ball from his arse. But common knowledge or not, he still kept a careful, wary eye on the lunar calendar taped to the back of the staff room door, and groaned when his night-shift coincided with the moon bloating.
"Should be an awful one," Rose Granger-Weasley said, bustling towards the desk where he was moping, carrying enough clipboards to intimidate an environmental surveyor. "I've never done a full moon shift without a blithering idiot or two coming around. I hope you've eaten something that isn't entirely made of sugar."
Lysander grumbled, nibbling his way through a chocolate bar. "I had a bakewell tart earlier."
"Is that supposed to convince me that you're a beacon of health?"
"Bakewell tarts have cherries on them. 'Sides, what have you eaten?"
Rose rolled her eyes. She dumped the clipboards on the desk and ducked into a large storage cupboard without answering the question, which meant she'd eaten a grand total of nothing and didn't want to admit it. He snickered triumphantly, lounging back in the spinny chair, only to bolt upright again when he caught sight of Albus Severus Potter slinking through the glass doors. His hair was a mess, and there was a wild cut running the length of his bewildered, pretty face.
"Your cousin's here," Lysander called.
A thump and a cry from inside the storage cupboard alerted Albus to his attention. He waved, beckoning him over with the chocolate bar, and Albus shuffled closer. He looked a little moody, but mostly sheepish. His shy face was adorable. Lysander almost cooed at the sight of it, but refrained.
"Hi, Scamander."
"Hey there, Potter. What can I do you for?"
Albus flushed at the wording, scratching his nose. Rose hissed at Lysander as she came marching out of the storage cupboard, shooting him a dark look.
"I was being accommodating!" Lysander said.
"You were being something, alright," she muttered. It was lucky the rest of the staff were occupied, too busy to be bothered by the way Lysander cackled.
"It's fine," Albus said. "It's not that bad. I just need…"
Rose grabbed him by the elbow, cutting him off. She turned his chin this way and that, a pair of gloves already covering her slim fingers. She was clinical, but concerned. Lysander watched the proceedings curiously. The cut didn't look that bad, but Albus looked too sheepish for Lysander to just go back to his notes, or his moping. Sheepish in a hospital only meant one thing; sheer, blind stupidity. And that was always fun to witness.
"How did this happen?" Rose demanded. "The Front Desk Witch should have sent you to emergency care, not here. We're not really supposed to have open wounds just walking around like this."
"I, uh, snuck past. The desk, I mean." Albus glanced over at him, and away at him. "I was hoping you could give me a hand without having to mention it to anybody."
"Oh, don't look at me," Lysander said, propping his smirk on the heel of his hand, elbow planted on the desk. "My lips are sealed. Nobody's gonna hear a thing, baby Potter. I can be very discreet." He mimed zipping his mouth shut, and then offered Albus the last square of chocolate. "Want a bit? You look like you could use something sweet."
Albus hesitated, but begrudgingly reached out to snag the last bit of chocolate. Lysander made a note of the dirt under his fingernails. The way he leaned forward sent his jacket flapping open, revealing the rips lining the soft white shirt underneath. There was a twig in his hair, and when he bit down on the chocolate, he flashed teeth that looked a little sharper than normal.
"So," Lysander said. "Werewolf, huh?"
Albus froze, a square of chocolate still tucked in his mouth. He looked wildly between the two of them, desperately seeking a way out. But there was only Rose, with her narrowed, shrewd gaze, and Lysander, who smirked back, smug and patient.
"Albus?" Rose said, a touch of warning in her voice.
Albus sagged against the front desk, nodding. "Yeah. Werewolf."
Rose took a deep breath. She let it out through her nostrils in one harsh puff, and Lysander half expected to see steam, or hear a kettle whistling.
"Absolutely outstanding," she said flatly. "What happened? I take it this wasn't consensual, but you don't seem that bothered."
Albus averted his gaze, blushing. Lysander's laugh got caught in his throat, and he made a wheezing sound.
"Oh my Merlin, Albus!" Rose exclaimed. "You're going to march into that room and sit your arse down, and you're not going to say another word until I finish admitting you. And then you're going to tell me exactly what happened, in full detail, or I'll call your father. Better yet, I'll call Grandma Weasley."
"You owe me some more chocolate," Albus mumbled, glowering at Lysander through those thick, pretty eyelashes. When Lysander just winked, he grumbled and stood up straight. "It's not even a full werewolf thing, Rosie. It was just a potion. An experiment. It should be all gone now. I just need you to deal with the cut, that's all."
"Bed." Rose's eyes flashed, steely. She pointed down the hall, at their only empty room. "Now."
Albus rolled his eyes, shuffling down the hallway. He glanced over his shoulder when he reached the room, and when he caught Lysander's grin, he straightened up and hurried inside, leaving the door ajar. Lysander crumpled up the chocolate bar wrapper and tossed it in the bin, standing up leisurely.
"I love the full moon," Lysander announced, and snatched a clean chart out from under the desk.
"I cannot believe my own family is putting me through this." Rose looked at him suspiciously. "Where are you going?"
"Well, you can't be his Healer, can you? Conflict of interest, and all that. Besides, it was probably a kinky potion, and I'm pretty sure you don't want to interrogate your little cousin over that."
"I'm a professional," Rose snapped, though she scrunched up her nose very unprofessionally. "And you're one to talk! Crushes count as a conflict of interest, Scamander!"
"Don't worry! I'll wait until after I've healed his furry little problem to ask him out."
Rose shouted something incomprehensible through her mangled horror, and Lysander laughed, striding down the corridor to where Albus was waiting, whistling all the way.
Thank you so much for reading!
[Word Count: 1130]