13. THE COTTAGE
Dr Jung inspected Serene's left wrist and tabbed the reddened skin with an balsam soaked swab of cotton. "This should do the trick," he mumbled, wrapping a gauze bandage around the wrist. "Those amateurs at the Ministry were not too gentle, were they?"
She grit her teeth when she remembered the unveiled contempt in the eyes of the witch who had tattooed her wrist with the small moon symbol. Invisible to all but those who knew the revealing spell, it proclaimed her a werewolf's lifemate. The witch had used the tattooing needles to make a silent statement that she did not agree with Serene's decision. With the tattoo it was official and Serene took it as some kind of wedding band. It itched and burned like crazy. Still, what was a small tattoo compared to the cruel wound Remus must have suffered ...
She looked across the room to the bed, where the patient lay, immobile and pale as before. Twelve hours had passed since the bite, and Dr Jung had sent away all friends and family but Serene to get some sleep.
A nurse had set up a cot for Serene next to Remus' bed, but she had not been able to calm down enough to close her eyes, and had spent the rest of the night listening to Remus' shallow breaths.
"Is this really necessary?" She gingerly touched the silver shackles that tied Remus to the bed.
"No, it isn't!" Dr. Matilykos snarled. "Technically, he isn't even a werewolf until the next full moon!"
"It is standard hospital procedure with all werewolves", the younger doctor tried to soothe. "And legally, he is one. Even now."
"But the silver …" Serene stroked Remus fingers, "… it will burn his skin."
"Allergy to silver is a symptom of lycanthropy. Since Professor Lupin was only recently re-infected, it won't harm him. Yet. And there is a padding between the silver and skin."
Dr Jung showed her that the skin at the patient's wrist was without blisters or burns. "The silver keeps him in his human shape. Once he is in your care, it is up to you to decide if you'd rather keep him shackled. It may be advisable at times. At least when he is close to turning."
"I feel so ... powerless," Serene admitted and rubbed her tired eyes with the heel of her right hand.
"You really don't need to be a doctor to handle the matter, Serene," said Dr Jung gently. "Just be there. Care for him. Touch him. He should recover from the bite itself without any problem."
"But ..."
"There will be considerable pain. And fever." Pavlos Matilykos pushed himself off the wall and started to pace the room. He looked exhausted, sick, as if a loud word or a slight push could finish him off.
"But probably not worse than the pain he went through every month. There are herbal remedies that will help a bit." He halted in front of her chair and gazed down at her. "The most important thing is that you'll be there."
The younger doctor scribbled down a list of herbs and passed it to Serene. "I trust Abby Lupin's collection will include most of these, if not more. She made some remarkable discoveries we shall research in the weeks to come."
Serene pushed back her chair, unable to remain seated any longer. "So he'll wake up and everything will be fine?"
"Ah ..." Dr Jung winced and threw a pleading look at his mate. "Not ... not exactly ... fine."
She paled. "What do you mean?"
"The cure he's taken is, as you may recall, named "Tabula rasa", blank slate. And aptly so, as we suspect. When Professor Lupin wakes up, he'll be exactly what the name says. A blank slate. Without any memory whatsoever."
Serene's mouth fell open. "Not even of his family?" she managed. " Hogwarts? His name? "
Dr Jung shook his head. "Nothing. But you must not worry. As the lycanthropy virus gradually takes over, the memories will return. Once he has turned at the next full moon, he'll be his old self again."
"And better, we should hope. " A frown line formed between Matilykos' brows. "Since you, as his mate, will certainly do everything to make him whole."
Serene turned her back to him and stared at the whitewashed wall. From the alley outside she could hear faint voices and through the open window the first scents of spring wavered into the hospital room. All day long she'd fought the impulse to push the doctors and nurses aside and levitate Remus out of the building into the warm sunshine. He needed air.
Open space. Herbal teas and salves, that she could do. Even chicken soup, if it was necessary. But how was she supposed to heal Remus' soul?
"How?" she said softly, addressing not so much the doctors but the wall.
Dr Jung rose and gave her an affectionate hug. "Don't worry too much, Serene. Pavlos is overly fond of passionate addresses."
"Am not," mumbled the older doctor, but Serene could hear the smile in his voice.
"It is much easier than it sounds, really," encouraged Dr Jung. "Move back to Hogwarts, make sure his friends are there when he comes around. Love him. That's the most important thing, I guess. Love. A home. Friends"
"A mate. Pack. Territory," translated Dr Matilykos and patted her shoulder, a rare expression of sympathy. "In four weeks, when he changes, and his memory returns, he'll remember that as well."
She closed her eyes wearily. When he said it, it sounded so simple. So natural.
"I'll try."
After lunch, Abby and Jerome could not stay away any longer. Remus' mother touched their son's cheek. It did not feel cold and clammy as it had before the bite, but warm. Too warm.
"He is already running a fever," she worried.
"His body is fighting the infection." Dr Jung moved his wand slowly over the patient's forehead and nodded satisfied. "It is the reaction we hoped for."
"How …" Abby swallowed hard. She had promised herself to stay calm, but looking at her son made that very hard. "May I see the bite?"
The nurse lifted the blanket gingerly and revealed a dressing across the wizard's chest. A wave of the doctor's wand loosened the bandages.
Serene winced. The bite on Remus left side was so deep that the white bone of the ribcage showed. Flesh and skin were torn and mangled, and still - the wound was already starting to heal.
"It is not the wound you need to worry about," the doctor pointed out. "It is going to heal incredibly fast. But we will have to wait until the full moon to see if the re-infection was successful."
"What if not?" Serene covered Remus' limp fingers with her warm hand.
"Think of the lycanthropy virus as something that helps him to survive the change." Dr Jung raised his head and looked her straight in the eyes. "His body will try to change within the next weeks, and the stronger the pull of the moon, the stronger the urge. The patient feels as if his skin is getting to tight, is suffocating him."
"He'll try to rip it off, scratch himself to tear the human skin off." Abby's bottom lip trembled.
"It is the affection that enables the human body to survive the change. Otherwise the pain, the shock would be too severe."
"How long will he have to stay in St. Mungo's?" Jerome stood on the other side of the bed, a hand gently on Remus' shoulder, concentrating only onto his son's being. There was pain, but right now it seemed to be bearable. "Can we take him home?"
For the first time Dr. Matilykos spoke up. "He can't stay here. But you must not take him to Sherwood either."
His voice held a deep growl, and Dr Jung instantly crossed the room to stand beside the Werewolf in the corner next to the door, casually touching his arm as an anchor to sanity and humanity.
"Sherwood is where he was bitten the first time. It is already some werewolf's territory."
Serene understood at once. "And St. Mungo's is yours."
He inclined his head.
"I suggest you bring him back to Hogwarts," Matilykos said. "He'll feel safe there. It is the place he chose, his place."
Hogwarts. The thought of returning to the castle, to the students, to … Harry Potter … let Serene pale. She could not possibly return there. 'Not even for Remy?' asked a soft voice inside her heart.
Suddenly she felt a hand slip into hers and squeeze it. It was Dumbledore, who had entered the room in his usual silent way. "Do not worry now," he calmed her. "We'll find a way."
"A way to be in Hogwarts and at the same time not to be there?" Her voice was bitter. "A way to save the world and at the same time save the man I love?"
"Exactly," the Headmaster beamed. "There is a small cottage right between Hagrid's house and the Shrieking Shack. Still on Hogwarts grounds, but sufficiently far away from the castle itself, and close enough to the Shack, should needs be. It is small, but large enough for two people. And – this comes very conveniently, I must admit – the owner is nobody else than your friend Claire Winterstorm."
"Would that do?" Serene asked Dr. Matilykos.
He nodded.
"How are you going to transport him all the way up north?" Jerome asked with a frown.
"Rumour goes the father of a certain student owns a slightly modified muggle car," remarked Dumbledore casually. "I'll go and pay Arthur Weasley a visit at the Ministry."
* * *
"Phew," Laurel blew out an exasperated breath. "Why don't we drop our wands, wash the dust off our hands and sneak out into Hogsmeade for an hour? Right next to Honeyduke's there is this new place ..."
"Where the Arabian wizard roasts coffee beans in the back of the shop?" Claire sighed and hung the last curtain. "Oh yeah, lets do that!"
Her arms ached, her back protested and her hair was a mess. How muggles went through life without magic or house-elves she did not know. She'd stumbled twice over Jonah, who tried to help and dragged the most curious things from the depths of the attic. At least Rose was living up to her reputation of being the best baby ever. She'd slept in her basket by the fireplace all morning, and only now started to make soft meowing sounds.
Serene was checking To-do-lists when Laurel and Claire, both hoisting a child, climbed down to stairs from the attic.
A bed for Remy, chairs and a table, all the little things a household needed - the attic of the cottage had provided them. It seemed that every tenant had left one thing or the other, and since the cottage was almost as old s Hogwarts, Serene had been able to choose between four different beds, gothic, empire, Victorian and something she supposed was pre-goblin-war.
The Hogwarts elves had provided linen, the Winterstorm elves pots and pans and cutlery. And Laurel had presented her with a basket full of china plates and cups, all bearing the Snape family crest. She insisted that Severus would rather smash every single plate than ever use it, and Serene had accepted the set as a loan for the time being.
So she was set. And still …
Resolutely she fought down the wave of fear that threatened to overwhelm her. She'd do fine. Dr. Jung had said so. Even Abby had assured her that she trusted her.
Six more hours to go. She'd go crazy before Remus even arrived!
When she felt a tug on her skirt, she crumbled her list to a ball. Jonah beamed up to her, in his hands the ugliest candle holder Serene had ever laid eyes on.
"Look, Ene!"
"He found it and he insisted you use it …" Laurel shrugged and tousled the boys hair. "He thinks it is …"
"Magic!" Jonah crowed. "Pretty!"
"Well, if you say so, honey …" Serene placed the carved monstrosity on the mantle.
Then she gladly let her friends whisk her away to the new coffee shop.
* * *
Starburst's, the new coffee shop, was brimming with young wizards and witches, lounging on soft pillows and carpets, sipping strong coffee from delicate little cups. Serene joined the long queue at the counter and fought her way to the corner where Laurel had secured a cosy space for them and the children.
"This place is going to be a veritable gold-mine come Saturday, " decided Serene when she set the tray with coffee and a plate of Honeyduke's finest almond truffles on the low table.
Laurel smirked. "Even now I can spot students who should really not be here. But it's my day off today so I'll pretend to be blind."
Still, a few carpets away two Slytherins and a small group of Ravenclaws packed their books and bags suspiciously fast and scrambled out of the shop.
"Speaking of gold," Serene cleared her throat and looked at Claire, "we will of course pay rent for the cottage."
"Don't be ridiculous." Laurel chose a truffle. "Neither you nor Remus are in a position where you can spend money for rent. A teacher's salary at Hogwarts is fine with room and board provided, but not if you need to cover rent." She closed her eyes for a moment when the delicious chocolate melted on her tongue. "And Claire will not take money from the two of you, or will you, Claire?"
Rose's mother looked up from the baby-girl she held in her lap and raised a fine eyebrow. "I beg your pardon. I was busy counting Rose's fingers." She smiled. "Still all of them there and perfect. What were you talking about?"
"Rent." Serene said it fast, before Laurel could interfere again. "Now that you are our landlady, we should pay you for the cottage."
"Ah yes." Claire bit on the tip of her tongue and calculated fast. "How about ... 100 Galleons a week? It is a very nice cottage, isn't it, and comes fully furnished."
"100 Galleons!" Laurel exploded. "You must be out of your mind. Both of them are poor as house-elves! They can't possibly pay ..."
Serene laid a steadying hand on her friend's arm. "100 Galleons is only fair," she nodded. But she had lost her colour and stayed rather subdued for the rest of the hour they stayed at Starburst's.
Back in the great Winterstorm Mansion Claire put Rose to bed in the nursery, and Laurel gave in to Jonah's insistent pleas to sleep on a huge pillow next to the baby's cradle.
"I don't believe it," she shook her head when she gently closed the door. "At home he throws a fit when I as much as suggest he takes a nap."
Serene smiled. "He's in love."
"In love!" Laurel snorted. "He is barely 18 months old."
The other witch shrugged. "Apparently it's not a matter of age or reason."
Before she could turn away and slip into Claire's office, Laurel took hold of her arm and gently held her back. "If it is not a matter of reason, what else is it?"
Serene looked at the floor. "Of heart, I guess."
"So you finally figured that out," Laurel smiled and could not suppress a certain smugness. "Took you quite a while, girl."
When she saw tears in her friend's eyes, she bit her tongue. "Serene, won't you tell us what's the matter with you?"
"Sometimes love is not enough." Serene's voice trembled but she held her head high and her fists clenched. "Sometimes it won't prevent the ones you love from being hurt."
Laurel helplessly brushed a red curl from Serene's forehead. "Maybe you are right. But then again … Love may not be enough but it is the only thing between us and the darkness."
Serene closed her eyes, suddenly pale as death. Darkness. So … alluring. No more rules. No responsibilities. No guilt. A shudder went through her body and the hair on her neck rose when she fought the darkness spreading.
"Lets go and talk about the things that really count. Money," she managed to mutter, and avoiding Laurel's scrutiny she went into Claire's office.
"We should get the rent-matter out of the way right now, don't you think so?"
Serene swallowed. At 100 Galleons a week her savings would barely allow them to stay at the cottage until the full moon. As far as she knew Remus had spend most of the money he had on the damned cure that had almost cost his life. They could of course move to Hogwarts - Dumbledore had offered it, fully aware that she would not take the risk. And she could not teach there either, not for the time being at least. She grit her teeth. Business was business. She find a way to provide for the wizard she loved, and would take it step by step.
"Well, lets see ..." Claire opened a huge ledger and picked up a quill.
"Listen, Serene," said Laurel softly, "I know you find it hard to accept help, but I had hardly any opportunity to spend money at all in the last year, so there should be a nice lump sum in my vault at Gringott's. And Severus is spitting rich, although he'd rather cut his hand off than touch his father's heritage. We can give you the money you need, as a gift, a loan or whatever you can accept."
Serene swallowed and found it hard to speak through the sudden surge of tears. "I won't forget that, Laurel. Thank you, but I have to go through this alone." She squeezed her friend's hand. "But is a good feeling to have somebody to fall back upon ..."
Claire looked up from the tidy column the quill had scribbled. "Well. 100 Galleons a week, that's 400 Galleons for this month."
She ignored Laurel's muttering and proceeded with her coolest business voice. "400 galleons ... so I owe you 42.838 galleons all in all. Do you prefer cash or a draft to your vault at Gringott's?"
Serene stared at her, momentarily flabbergasted.
Laurel frowned. "You ... owe her?" she asked.
Claire pushed the ledger towards Serene. "See yourself," she smirked. "You can check it, but I am quite positive my sums are correct."
Serene's eyes narrowed when she saw the headline on top of the page. It read 'Kennedy Design'.
"What?" she stuttered.
"Well, there is the design for Winterstorm's newest best-seller on the international toy market. Lyty first of all ..."
"Jonah's snake?" wondered Laurel, understanding dawning. She grinned sheepishly. "I am so sorry, Claire! I assumed ..."
"That I'd rob a friend in need, I know," replied Claire, a little hurt. "We started mass-producing the toy designs Serene scribbled that afternoon in London. The afternoon before the concert."
Serene looked up, tears in her eyes. "But those were only sketches!"
"So?" Claire opened another ledger and passed it to her. It contained moving images of beautiful witches in breathtaking robes. "Nobody expects you sew them with your own wand. Lots of witches know how to sew. But only you can design clothes like these. Lovely dresses. Elegant dresses. Expensive dresses." She smiled in open delight. "Very expensive."
"Winterstorm is producing robes designed by Serene?" Laurel wondered. "And people can order them from this catalogue?
"They can buy them as well in the store in Hogsmeade."
"The store?" Serene's voice shook suspiciously. "What store?"
Claire held out her fist, and when she opened it right under her friend's nose, a golden key glinted on the flat palm. "Your store, if you want. Rent it from me ..." She could not suppress a small scowl in Laurel's direction, and the other woman took it self-consciously. "Rent it or buy it with the profit you make. You design, I produce, we sell together."
While Serene searched for words, Laurel showed her joy and relief in the outcome of things openly. "So you need not worry about how to pay for the cottage!"
"There was no need for worry about that anyway." Claire closed the ledger. "But as things are she won't need to teach at Hogwarts anymore either." She threw their friend a questioning gaze. "And maybe one day she'll tell us why she is so scared of that school all at once."
* * *
„Will you quit fretting and sit down for a minute?" demanded Laurel in the evening.
They had been waiting all afternoon and Serene had all but marched a trench into the living room floor, so nervously had se paced the room.
Claire had taken Rose and Jonah back to the Manor were they slept now, and Serene and Laurel were still waiting for Remus to come home.
Serene stopped and stared at Laurel, her face pale, her eyes wide with fear.
"I can't do this."
"Oh nonsense!" Laurel felt a faint head ache crawl up her neck. Her friend radiated fear like a the fire in the hearth radiated warmth on this chilly spring evening. "Of course you can. There is nothing much to do but being there. And loving him."
"I caused him nothing but pain so far." Serene dug her nails in her palm.
"That's not true." Laurel shook her head and stood up from the window seat where she'd curled up for the last hour. "I have never seen Remus happier than those days after Christmas."
"Seven days, Laurel!" Serene's voice threatened to hitch. "I made him happy for seven days! But how am I supposed to make him happy for the rest of his life."
"Serene …"
"He will not remember what happened between us. But after the full moon, when the lycanthropy virus takes over …"
"May it be as you say. But first of all his conditon means you got four weeks without dark memories. Four weeks you should enjoy without worrying about the future." Laurel gave her a sympathetic smile. "Dumbledore once told me to take it day by day, and I can only repeat his advise."
The red-haired witch drew in a deep breath and unclenched her fisted hands carefully.
The house was ready. The wooden floors gleamed in the light of the fire. The windows sparkled. The bed in the upstairs bedroom had fresh linen that smelled of lavender.
"Day by day," she said softly. "I'll try."
Then a sharp rap on the door made her jump.
Laurel opened. Her mouth fell open when she saw a red muggle van park in front of the cottage - hovering three feet in the air.
"Sirius!" she stuttered.
He held up a hand. "Don't say it! I know you did not expect to see me here."
Laurel frowned.
Sirius waved tiredly at the back of the van.
"Dumbledore was called back to Hogwarts. Seems like Draco Malfoy did his best to beat Snape in the run for "most obnoxious Slytherin ever". High time his Head of House returns to duty." He rubbed his temples. "High time I am getting home."
"Won't you help us to move Remus into the house …", Laurel started, quite surprised by his foul mood.
"No."
With that Sirius turned and walked down the narrow path which led towards the Shrieking Shack and further to Winterstorm Manor.
Laurel watched him depart and shook her head.
Then she saw Severus open the sliding door on the side of the van and carefully levitate out the body of a wizard, wrapped in warm blankets.
The potions master sighed in relief when the body glided through the cottage door, and squeezed Laurel's hand.
"Muggle cars!" he snarled. "Give me a carpet any day!" His dark look in Sirius' direction spoke volumes. "No wonder Fudge wants to banish the use of these things."
"What is the matter with Draco Malfoy?" Laurel put a hand under Remus' head to prevent him colliding with the wooden door post.
"I don't know any details. Seems like he started some kind of secret society." The Potions master's face darkened. "Olsen's influence."
His eyes locked with Laurel's for a moment, so intense that she reached out and touched his face.
"I could never forgive myself if we lost Draco."
"We won't."
Together they navigated Remus into the cottage.
Serene still stood in the middle of the room, her hand clasping the back of a high chair.
Her chest was so tight she could not breath. Her heart hammered.
But then, when she saw Remus, all her fear dissolved.
Nothing mattered anymore.
Not even her visions.
She stepped forward and removed Laurel's hand off Remus' head.
"I'll take care of him now," she said softly.
And without paying them any further attention, she brought Remus to bed.
Snape smirked.
"I guess we are not needed here. Let's pick up Jonah at the Manor and go home."
All Laurel could do was agree heartily.
* * *
When Remus woke up, it was in the early hours of the morning. Grey light seeped through the lace curtains and drew intricate patterns on the wall. It took him a few minutes to focus and that single task demanded so much effort it left him weary and exhausted. His body felt as if every bone and sinew had been dislocated and roughly set into place again.
From the dim light he could tell it was early hours, but the room was not familiar at all. A sloping roof where rains drummed a soft steady rhythm. Two windows with snow-white curtains. A four poster bed with soft pillows and a downfeather duvet. He did not know where he was but it certainly wasn't ….
He frowned. This was not … Not the place he was supposed to be. He was … Who was he?
His heart skipped a beat when there was a void instead of a name.
He was …
This was ridiculous. It was there, on his tongue, he could almost taste it. But whenever he thought he had it, it slipped out of his mental grasp.
His skin got cold and clammy with panic when he became aware that he was not alone in this strange bed in this strange room. There was … someone … a woman snuggled into his arms, soft breath against his chest, warm skin against his. Glorious copper curls spilled like a silky blanket over his shoulder when she moved in her sleep.
And for some reason his panic subsided. Whatever had happened, wherever he was … whoever … This was right. This woman in his arms, her head cradled in the crook of his neck, was how things were supposed to be.
Drawing her closer, he closed his eyes and listened to her breath until he fell asleep once again.
When Remus woke up the next time, the ray of light on the wall had wandered to the next corner.
A cool cloth was pressed to his forehead.
Then the gentle voice of a woman asked: "How do you feel?"
He thought about it.
His ribs and his side ached and itched, as if a wound was healing. Strangely he had no idea whether this was good or bad. Nor how he was supposed to feel ...
He opened his eyes.
The woman put the cloth back into a basin that hovered a few feet over the floor and went to the dresser by the window. It was the same woman who had shared his bed earlier. Now her wild red tresses were ordered into a neat braid, that fell down a green robe. The colour complimented her eyes, Remus thought, and at the same moment wondered how he knew that she had green eyes.
Indeed, they were green, he was confirmed when she turned around to face him.
"Can you tell me your name,? she asked with a slight tremble in her voice. "Who you are?"
He frowned but though he tried hard, he could not remember. It was there, yes, but only like a shadow in the back of his mind. Too faint to catch it.
"Who am I?" he surrendered and looked at her with barely suppressed panic.
"Your name is Remus J. Lupin."
The woman sat down next to him on the bed and reached for his hand. Immediately he felt calmer.
"Remus J. Lupin," he repeated slowly. "What does the J stand for?"
She smiled and he basked in the warmth of it like a kitten in a spot of sun on a rag. "I really don't have the slightest idea," she admitted. "I never asked. But I suppose it is short for Jerome. That's your father's name."
"My father." Again, his mind was blank, could provide neither image nor scent. "Jerome Lupin." It sounded right, though.
"Your mom's name is Abby. And you got three younger sisters. Livia, Helena and Julia."
Wearily he closed his eyes. He needed to sleep and could only hope she'd stay there, holding his hand, or even better, holding him in her arms like last night. But then again, that might have been a dream ...
"Remy?" Her voice hitched in her throat. "Do you remember me?"
And there, in the hazy zone between waking and sleeping, was a name. He all but sighed it, before his breath got even and calm, and sleep embraced him completely.
"Sally."
* * *