Time moves unusually fast over the next week.
Perhaps it's just Darcy's excitement at the prospect of seeing Gemma again for the first time since the funeral. She's not quite sure.
Professor Snape is not particularly friendly towards her, but not overly cruel, and he begins to split up the massive amount of homework and essays between themselves to grade (though he does snap at her after claiming she'd been to lenient with Harry's homework, and then proceeds to only give her the first year pieces). That small gesture (though she's sure Snape is just tired of doing all the work himself) makes her feel rather important, and more like the actual assistant she is instead of someone who just stands in the corner of the classroom, lurking in the shadows.
Unable to keep herself from snooping one day while in Professor Snape's office alone for a few moments, Darcy finds herself opening his desk drawers and finds the S.P.E.W. badge tucked away in a corner of the topmost drawer. She can't help but smile, closing the drawer quickly before he can catch her, and his snide comments bounce off her must more easily afterwards. To save his pride, Darcy doesn't tell Hermione of her findings, but instead bends the truth slightly by telling her that Lupin was very grateful for his badge and what she's doing, which had made Hermione beam.
Harry has dinner in Darcy's apartments on Wednesday, mostly fretting over the possible ways Sirius could get caught, or what they might do with him if he did end up getting caught. Trying to settle on a happier topic, they settle upon the Triwizard Tournament, hypothesizing about who might put their names forward for such a dangerous and glorious opportunity. Darcy keeps him well past curfew as the time slips by, and she remembers fondly the way Lupin would offer to walk her back whenever he'd kept her late in his own private rooms.
Every night, Lupin is all she can think of. She hates it. All that runs through her mind each and every night is how deeply undeserving of him she is, how she should have known that being a Potter would cause trouble and ruin things in the end. But Lupin hadn't been around when they were younger, when she and Harry were just kids. He'd never seen firsthand the closeness that had developed between she and her little brother. How could he ever possibly understand her need to be with him during such troubling times?
Emily has never understood, either, and Emily had understood a lot more than she let on. None of her friends could ever understand; Darcy had sacrificed everything to care for Harry, to keep him fed and clean and comforted when he needed comfort. She had focused on all her energy on making sure that he was loved, and now Harry defines her.
She had come to a new world at eleven-years-old to discover people knew her by name because of her brother, because of her parents. Her entire life has been centered around Harry, and Darcy can't ever imagine now living a life that isn't tethered to Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.
To have a family, to start a family, to commit to forever with someone frightens her. The future has always frightened her, always uncertain and ever-changing. Darcy can't pretend that she doesn't want it, though. It's easy to imagine a few months from now, waking beside Lupin on a Saturday morning and leaving him each Sunday . . . if she hadn't taken this stupid job, she could be with him every single day, love him every day, kiss and touch him every day. But she knows there must be a reason she's here at Hogwarts, knows now that Dumbledore had been reading signs (to use Sirius' words), and knew that Darcy was needed here. She had chosen Harry over everything by returning to Hogwarts, just as she's chosen him over everything for as long as she can remember.
The weather seems to change overnight, and on Friday morning, the air is crisper than it had been all week. Summer is officially over, and the snow capped mountains loom over the browning grass of the Hogwarts grounds. Leaves are already falling off the branches of the trees in the Forbidden Forest, dark, thin tendrils making the clump of unknown look slightly creepy, despite the amount of times she's been in there. To see the leaves changing so rapidly seems an ominous sign to Darcy, but she attributes that feeling to her increasing paranoia and brushes it off. Seasons have always had a mind of their own at Hogwarts, but Darcy had hoped that summer would persist a little while longer, giving her more time to wander the grounds and not have to worry about wearing layers of clothing.
Sirius' reply to Harry's letter still hasn't arrived, but Darcy takes this as a good thing. She isn't sure where he is now, but she knows that he mustn't be too close, for Hedwig surely would have returned by now if he was far north. That, or she's flying from wherever he had been, and Sirius may have Apparated somewhere much closer in the meantime.
Regardless, she decides to wait until she hears back from him before doing anything rash. Her heart pounds in her chest at the thought of admitting she'd been and has been intimate with one of his oldest and closest friends—with one of her parents best and oldest friends. She can't think of a good way to tell Sirius she loves Lupin without sounding like a petulant child. Hopefully, Gemma will be able to give her some insight or advice.
Friday night finds her lazing on a sofa in an upstairs room at the Three Broomsticks. A fire burns in the hearth, keeping the night chill at bay. A pitcher of warm butterbeer, half-empty now, sits on the corner of the coffee table, the beverage Darcy had decided on after coming to the conclusion that alcohol wouldn't help her grade some first year essays.
Lupin had raised his eyebrows in surprise when she declined his offer to buy a bottle of wine, and she'd scowled at him. Lupin had only chuckled and said, "You've been spending too much time in Severus's company, I think."
Darcy looks sideways at Lupin every so often, and though he seems utterly lost in his novel, Darcy notices the way that his leg continues to bounce anxiously, the clenching and unclenching of his jaw, the awkward way he rubs the back of his neck every few minutes. Having had only a couple of days to recover after his last transformation, Darcy feels quite guilty and insensitive about dragging him to Hogsmeade to talk to her friend about becoming someone's project.
But Lupin hasn't complained once, nor has he protested even weakly, hasn't mentioned any pain or exhaustion, despite it being very visible in his face and eyes. Darcy reaches out for him suddenly, giving his arm a slight squeeze before returning to her work. Lupin's leg stops bouncing, and he smiles, never taking his eyes off his book.
She lies awake in bed for a long time that night, quiet, her back turned to Lupin. He brushes the small of her back lightly with the tips of his fingers, a distracted touch that tells Darcy his mind is somewhere far away from the room they're in. She wonders if it's asking too much of Lupin to have him meet with Gemma, to ask him to submit to whatever experiments Gemma has planned. But Gemma wouldn't purposefully hurt him, wouldn't force him to do anything he didn't want to do . . . would she?
Is she doing this for Lupin, for the werewolves, or is she doing this for herself, to put her research and her name out there? To make a name for herself by exploiting the part of Lupin that he hates most about himself?
That's cruel. How could you think that? Darcy tells herself. Gemma has always been good to you. Gemma has never exploited you. Why would she do that to someone that you love?
She remembers Hermione being outraged over Darcy's approval to subject Lupin to this experiment, throwing the world animal in her face. Darcy frowns. She knows better than anyone that Lupin is no animal. She thinks of the scars on her shoulder, the scars she doesn't think much of anymore. Her eyes aren't drawn to them whenever she undresses or dresses in front of a mirror, but Lupin never seems to be able to forget them. Every time the scars are visible to him, he runs his fingers gently over them or just barely brushes his lips to them. The scars are always a part of the routine places he kisses her, never lacking attention.
She doesn't remember falling asleep, but she wakes up Saturday morning to a few swift knocks on the door. Madam Rosmerta's voice makes Lupin stir beside her, his fingers still touching her back. They both rub their eyes blearily, and Madam Rosmerta calls, "You have a visitor, Mr. Lupin. Miss Smythe is here to see you."
"I told you, I could announce myself!" Gemma retorts, huffing on the other side of the door.
Madam Rosmerta doesn't say anything more, and Darcy hears the clicking of her heels against the wooden floors as she walks away. Darcy picks her watch up off the nightstand and looks at the time. 9:56.
"We'll be down in a minute," Darcy shouts from her place in bed, rolling off the mattress and hurriedly searching for something to wear. "Order some breakfast for us, would you?"
"No," comes Gemma's reply, a firm and commanding tone that makes Darcy stand up straight and exchange a nervous glance with Lupin. "This is probably something best done in private."
Before Darcy lets Gemma inside, her heart begins to flutter. With a hand on the doorknob and Lupin at her side, Darcy asks, "Are you sure about this?" There are dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept a wink last night. "You don't have to go through with this."
Lupin nods. "It'll be all right."
"I can hear you, you know."
Darcy flushes and opens the door. Gemma barrels inside, a large and ornate trunk in one hand, the same trunk she'd used for her belongings when at Hogwarts. Darcy sees her initials embossed in gold on the front, and when Gemma sets it down on the circular table in the room, she gives Darcy a tight hug, then surprises Darcy even further by giving Lupin a one-armed hug that he hesitantly returns, making for a rather awkward scene.
"How have you been?" Gemma asks Darcy, as Lupin conjures a third chair for himself and sits down beside Darcy, across the table from Gemma.
Darcy shrugs casually. "As good as I can be, I think."
Gemma gives Darcy a serious look. "You read what Emily wrote in the Prophet?"
"Yeah, I did. I saved it, even. Have you gone to see her lately?"
"I stayed a few nights at her place this last week," Gemma answers, her voice low. "Her dad is in bad shape, Darcy. Emily barely comes home from work most days, and when she does, she and her dad don't even speak."
Darcy digests this, but doesn't know what to say.
Gemma doesn't press the issue, turning to Lupin. "How are you feeling? I know the full moon was only a few days ago."
"I'm used to it," Lupin replies, a bite to his tone. "Perhaps we could just begin?"
Gemma nods, leaning forward across the table and suddenly becoming very business-like. "The study I'm proposing will be conducted over six months, and six full moons. Healer Bavaria is going to be overseeing all of my research, and any questions that I'm not able to answer, he will. Now . . ." She unbuckles the front of her trunk. "I am not going to bind you by contract to complete the study, but . . ." Gemma rummages inside her trunk for a moment, finding what she needs and pulling it out. She slams the trunk closed and tosses a drawstring bag to Lupin. It jingles when it lands on the tabletop. "I thought you might need a little convincing. I know it's a lot to agree to, and we don't know each other very well. This is the first half, and for the fourth, fifth, and sixth month, you'll get the rest in increments the morning after the full moon wanes."
Lupin narrows his eyes at her, but she only nods encouragingly at the bag in front of him. He unties the loose knot and peers cautiously inside, immediately closing it, his cheeks turning pink. "Gemma, I . . . I can't accept this—"
"You must. It's yours," Gemma insists. "Did you think you would have to be subjected to this for free? You thought I wouldn't make sure you were paid?" She laughs airily. "Like I said, the rest will come in increments during the last three months . . . you understand, of course. Also, Healer Bavaria has authorized the decision to provide you with Wolfsbane in the week preceding the full moon, free of charge. The details for that we can work out after we've discussed everything." She pauses, waiting for an answer. "So . . . what do you think?"
Lupin sighs heavily, fingering the bag of money, looking desperately at it. After a few moments, he looks up at Darcy, and she nods at him. Turning back to Gemma, Lupin says, "All right. Go on, tell me everything."
Gemma smiles from ear to ear. "The first thing you need to understand is that there is always the chance of risk. Given with how closely I'm working with a Healer on this case, it's unlikely anything fatal will come about, but we're charting unknown territory here. You've just got to remember . . . this research will not only affect you, but other werewolves who suffer in silence. Do you understand?"
"I understand."
"Before we actually move forward with anything new, however, we need to begin with a control. In a few weeks, when the next full moon comes, I want you to start documenting your symptoms the first day they begin, and continue documenting until the symptoms go away completely. And please, continue taking the Wolfsbane—our goal is not to cure the physical symptoms and allow you to keep your mind when you transform, but it's more to work alongside the Wolfsbane by treating any physical ailments caused by the lycanthropy directly. But your documentation will give us a good idea of what we'll be working with."
Darcy stares at Gemma incredulously. "When did you get so professional, Gemma?"
Gemma only smiles at her, speaking to Lupin again. "Once we know the kind of symptoms we're working with, we can attempt to treat them. Now, typically, we've had complaints of a few minor things," she explains, while Lupin looks just as caught off guard as Darcy by Gemma's confident manner. "I'm assuming you usually feel achy, sore? Weaker as the full moon gets closer? Some of our patients have described feeling feverish."
"Er . . . yes," Lupin replies, rubbing at his chin and shrugging. "All of those things apply, I suppose."
"Maybe you even feel a sort of . . ." Gemma pauses, smiling wickedly and looking from Lupin to Darcy and back again. "Insatiability?"
Lupin blushes in earnest, and Darcy feels a wave of shame wash over her. They both look away from Gemma until Lupin clears his throat loudly, filling the silence.
"I'll take that as a yes," Gemma answers, laughing. "With me conducting this study, that means nothing is off limits anymore. By agreeing to this, you agree to be completely honest with me. I need to know about every pain, sore, rash, or any other embarrassing symptom." She chuckles once more. "The point is, all of your symptoms could be cured quite easily?"
Lupin nods.
"Potions that are made to treat these individual symptoms don't work as well on you, do they?"
"No, I suppose they don't."
"From what we've learned over the years, which is little enough, is that your lycanthropy gives you . . . not an immunity, but think of it like a very high tolerance to these potions. There is a part of you that isn't quite human, so potions that don't agree with that side of you will never work completely on you." Gemma speaks with her hands, sounding more knowledgeable than Darcy's ever heard her be about anything. "That's how we're going to start. We're going to use basic healing potions and tweak them, switching out some ingredients, eventually growing bolder where we see fit. But we need to get a good feel of how your body in particular reacts to these potions. We don't want to start too strong, in fear of how the wolf part of you will react to foreign ingredients.
"Your records of the effects will influence our decisions and, if after six months, we see we've made progress and improvement, then we'll begin moving forward and testing it on the public to make sure it's safe for others. We're hoping that our final product will work, not only on you, but for everyone. Not every person is the same, of course . . . our bodies are all so different, but it's a start."
Darcy watches Gemma warily, trying not to give her opinion too loudly. She knows that this is Lupin's decision and his alone, knows that Gemma isn't forcing him into this, and Darcy will support him in whatever he chooses. But Gemma's offer doesn't seem so terrible to her—an unlimited supply of Wolfsbane to get him through the next six months, a large sack of money for his troubles, and in return, possibly a solution to the pain that comes with the waxing moon.
Lupin clasps his hands together on the table. "And what if, by the end of six months, nothing has worked and you've made no progress?"
Gemma only smiles at him, a weak and sad smile. "Listen," she sighs, slouching back in her chair and suddenly becoming their friend again, and not the professional she had just been. "I know how it is for werewolves in the world, especially in Britain. There will always be people who see you as nothing more than a werewolf, than an animal. But I know that you're just a man. And I'm not going to continue putting you through the motions like you are an animal. Six months of using you for our research seems to me more than enough time to find some kind of breakthrough."
He's quiet for a moment, thinking.
"Even if you choose not to do this, you can still keep the money I've just given you, and I'll make sure that Wolfsbane is made available to you when you need it."
"Why would you do that?" he asks, almost as if he suspects a trap.
Gemma doesn't falter. "I take care of my friends. Ask Darcy."
Darcy feels a great surge of affection for Gemma. She looks at Lupin, putting a hand on his shaking leg under the table. It steadies at her touch, and Lupin gives her a warm, easy smile. "All right," he says finally. "I'll be your victim. You've given such a rousing speech, it would be a shame to decline now."
Gemma grins wide, reaching back into her trunk for a few sheets of parchment. There are six in all, with small writing across the surface. All of them have the same golden lettering at the top, spelling out St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. She gives Lupin a quill that she summons from nowhere. "This is just a waiver. I trust you at your word, but since all of this research is going to be handed into my superior, I have to follow hospital policy. I just need your signature at the bottom, acknowledging you understand the risks and have consented."
Lupin sighs dramatically, signing his name in a messy scrawl at the bottom of the second page. Gemma beams, watching him the whole time, finally looking at Darcy with her eyebrows raised almost to her hairline. When the ink dries, she puts the papers back in her trunk. She has him initial in a few places on two other pieces of parchment, and then has him print his name before signing it again on the sixth form.
"Excellent. Now the real fun begins." Gemma stands, clapping her hands together. "Are you allergic to anything you can think of?"
The rest of the morning and most of the afternoon is spent in the room, with Gemma examining every inch of him, a piece of parchment and quill recording every detail in midair. Gemma seems to have brought the entire hospital with her in her trunk. She records his weight ("You're far too skinny. Hasn't Darcy been fattening you up?"), records his height ("Darcy's always liked her men tall."), checks his eyes and his mouth, her fingers grabbing hold of his face with a sort of laziness, as if he's just another patient.
Darcy blushes again upon seeing Gemma touch him with such casual ease. She feels his neck for a pulse, and then again with his wrist, puts his hands under his shirt to listen to his heart and his breathing and feel for abnormalities. Darcy is amazed that Gemma doesn't seem to be affected by the heat of his skin the way she is. Gemma's touch doesn't linger on his skin, doesn't seem to want to drag out the moments she's touching him. Darcy is amazed that other women don't respond to Lupin like she does, amazed that such simple contact with him still makes her weak, while Gemma seems perfectly happy to manhandle him at times.
But with each touch Gemma gives him, Darcy feels jealousy burn in her chest, her heart beating abnormally fast. But every time Lupin looks at Darcy and smiles, the jealous monster inside of her settles. Gemma doesn't seem to notice anything, firing question after question at him, hardly allowing him time to answer.
And then, Gemma pulls a long needle from out of her trunk, and for the first time, Lupin recoils and shows obvious discomfort.
"What are you doing with that?" he snaps at her, tensing.
Gemma pauses, giving him a rather exasperated look. "Taking some of your blood," she answers. "You're a grown man. Sit still and it'll be over in a minute. All you'll feel is a pinch."
"What do you need my blood for?"
"Muggle doctors have machines to look closely at blood, did you know? Healer Bavaria is very interested in Muggle medicine." She tries to approach, but Lupin takes a hasty step backwards, making her laugh. "You're really afraid of needles? Do I need to have Darcy hold your hand? I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave."
"Just do it, then." Lupin holds out his arm, the one that lacks the severe bite mark. Gemma waves her wand quickly before setting it down, fussing with the piece of cord she's conjured and wrapping it tight around Lupin's bicep. She takes a moment to feel around for a vein and then sticks him with the needle. True to her word, the process is quick and Lupin flinches when she pulls the needle out of his arm.
"All right, I think that's all I need from you."
"As if you didn't just give me a complete head-to-toe examination?" Lupin jokes feebly, throwing Darcy another easy smile. She shifts in her chair, feeling very out of place among Gemma and Lupin. The feeling doesn't sit well with her.
"Be thankful I didn't make you take your clothes off," Gemma says with a raised eyebrow, packing away all of her things. "Examinations are typically done with our patients in very thin gowns . . . you can see everything in them. And I mean everything."
"Small comfort," Lupin murmurs, rubbing the spot on his arm were Gemma's needle had poked him.
Gemma closes her trunk and Darcy catches sight of the troubled look on her face. She frowns. "Gemma, what's wrong?" Darcy asks.
Looking from Lupin to Darcy, Gemma continues. "I've heard rumors, you know," she whispers, and Darcy thinks she's about to find out why Gemma had wanted to lock themselves in a room, away from any potential eavesdroppers. Darcy leans forward, and Lupin narrows his eyes. "I overheard my parents talking. They're . . . worried."
"About what?" Darcy says eagerly, hungry for information. "About Hogwarts? Or Voldemort?"
Gemma looks at Darcy for a long time, and then turns to speak to Lupin directly. "Their Dark Marks are getting darker for the first time in over a decade. Just barely, but it's noticeable."
Darcy understands why Gemma's said this to Lupin, for she doesn't understand much else. She looks to Lupin for clarification, and as soon as their eyes meet, he tells her, "The most important people in Voldemort's circle, most Death Eaters, are branded with the Dark Mark. I suppose it's like a form of communication between them and Voldemort. It was a huge discovery during the last war and changed the tide for us, being able to point out who was a Death Eater and who wasn't."
Before Darcy can answer, Gemma speaks again. "You use the name."
Lupin doesn't falter. "Why wouldn't I? It's only a name."
"It's not only a name for people like me," Gemma replies. "Surely you know that."
He considers Gemma, but doesn't argue. "How long has it been since their Dark Marks last burned?"
"I'm not sure. The first I heard of it was just a week ago. I overheard them at dinner." Gemma hesitates. "They're afraid." She pulls her trunk off the table, holding it at her side. "I have to bring all this back to St Mungo's before they realize half their hospital is missing. I'll be back for dinner, Darcy, if you'd like to catch up."
"Sounds great."
Gemma waves good-bye to them and heads back out the door. As the door closes behind her, Lupin chuckles, shuddering. "I feel violated."
Darcy doesn't say anything, but stands up and walks over to him, kissing him hard. Lupin stumbles backwards, responding with surprising force, breathless when Darcy pulls away from them. "If I have to watch her put hands on you for another second, I might lost my mind," she whispers against his lips, kissing him again.
Lupin laughs. "I much prefer your gentle hands." He cards his fingers through her hair and Darcy closes her eyes. "Come here."
She leans in closer, letting his lips crash against hers.