A/n: Not much to say, except to thank the few people who have reviewed! *giant hugs to all reviewers* Espcially Emily and Saerry Snape. I wasn't expecting either of you to read it in the first place... so it was a great surprise!

Enjoy...

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Chapter Three: Dawn

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The heart is a bloom, shoots up through the stony ground
But there's no room, no space to rent in this town
You're out of luck and the reason that you had to care
The traffic is stuck, and you're not moving anywhere
You thought you'd found a friend to take you out of this place
Someone you could lend a hand in return for grace

It's a beautiful day
The sky falls, and it feels like
It's a beautiful day
Don't let it get away
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Something warm was pressing against her back. There was a strangely uncomfortable feeling, a distant ache...

For a moment Helen thought that she had only dreamed about going to a world where magic existed, and that she had simply woken up in her room in the McLeod inn, with Allan beside her. Her eyes flew open in fear.

But no, it couldn't be. Though her sight was blurry, she could see that she was surrounded by something green and swaying, and that she lay not on a matress, but on bare grass... cold...

Everything was so cold...

Except for the thing behind her.

Fragmented memories of the previous night slammed into her suddenly, making her feel dizzy. She groaned and tried to shift her arm up to her head, to massage her temples; but she froze when her grainy vision registered dark red instead of the pink that her arm ought to be. She blinked furiously until her sight cleared, and she saw --

Blood. Her arm was covered in dried blood.

She twisted her neck, ignoring the sharp pain that shot through her head, right behind her eyes; she looked down at herself and saw that blood was the only thing she wore. She couldn't even see the injuries themselves underneath the clotted fluid...

The fact that she was otherwise naked took a minute to sink in. Helen moaned and clutched her head as she tried to sit up, biting her lip against the pain of at least four deep cuts and twice as many bruises. She wrapped her arms around herself protectively, trying in vain to fight the cold breeze that stirred the branches of the tree she sat under.

Something shifted behind her, stirring into life. Helen turned her head carefully, to avoid the dizzyness that threatened to take over. Fearful and reluctant, she looked over her shoulder...

It was a man, a few years older than her, his brown hair streaked with gray. She recognized him instantly; the man who had all but saved her life a month ago, who had found her somewhere safe to stay and brought the only doctor that was to be had in the entire area rushing to her aid.

Remus. Remus Lupin.

His eyelids fluttered, and he covered his face with one hand, groaning. With a strangled yell of shock and fear, Helen surged to her feet and tried to run; but her legs could not support her weight, and she stumbled and fell, nearly twisting her ankle.

Remus' eyes shot open and he sat bolt upright, looking around with fear just as evident on his face as it was on Helen's.

Their eyes met.

he whispered, his eyes going wide.

Helen struggled to get away once more, dragging herself up on unwilling arms, trying to pull herself as far from him as she could... this couldn't be happening... not again, not this soon... Her memory of being attacked was vague, and she didn't understand what was happening. She had been attacked by some kind of animal... not a human...

Wait! Stop!

Remus had gotten to his knees with more than a little effort, and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand out from under her. She fell forward again, reopening a cut on her chin. She couldn't help it; she was sobbing uncontrollably, and all she wanted was to be anywhere else, anyplace besides here, and with any other company. Her face was red-hot with shame at her nudity, and she tried to hide herself behind a thick root protruding from the ground.

She felt Remus take her right arm gently, rubbing off some of the dried blood. She closed her eyes tightly; but he let go after a moment.

Can't believe it, she heard him mutter hoarsely. Can't be. Just dreaming. Just another bloody dream...

Looking up at his face, she was taken aback to see that tears were streaking down his cheeks; he looked as though he was in shock.

He fell silent after a few minutes, and they lay huddled like that for a long time; separated by the roots of the willow they had slept under, quiet and miserable. Helen's memory was so muddled, and she herself was so confused, that she simply allowed her mind to go blank. A small part of her wanted to get up and run as far away as she could; but she couldn't move. The breeze died down after a while, but it was still freezing, and Helen felt her joints stiffening and her cuts throbbing with a steady ache.

After what must have been half an hour, though it felt like eternity to Helen, Remus spoke.

What's your name? he asked quietly.

Helen hesitated, unsure of whether she trusted him. Then she cowered mentally, realizing that it didn't matter whether he was trustworthy; it was already too late to run. she replied, choking back any further tears. Helen Corana Levine.

he repeated, carefully avoiding looking at her. Beautiful name. She looked up to see him swallow hard. He blinked twice, and held the back of his hand to his nose, trying valiantly not to cry.

Come on, he said suddenly, pushing himself up slightly. We should get into the tunnel entrance. It'll block the cold. Can you move?

Taken quite aback, Helen tried to sit up straight and found that she could, creakingly. she muttered.

It should be on the other side of the trunk -- an opening between the roots. I don't want you to freeze to death. Remus finally chanced a look at her face, but neither of them could muster any expression other than that of blank shock.

Helen did as she was told, and sure enough she found a gap between two roots just out of her sight on the other side of the thick willow trunk. She slid inside and found that Remus had been right -- it was still cool, but there wouldn't be any danger of hypothermia down here; it was too well insulated.

A moment later, after Helen had had a chance to move a good piece away into the tunnel under the fine, dangling roots of the plants above, Remus dropped inside as well. He put his arms around his knees and curled up as tight as he could right next to the entrance, allowing Helen free access to the deeper parts of the tunnel, where it was warmer. She hesitated, and wondered for an instant if she should tell him that she wouldn't mind if he came further inside... but instead she bit her lip and sat still, accepting his good manners with silence.

You're on the road, but you've got no destination
You're in the mud in the maze of your imagination
You love this town, even if that doesn't ring true
You've been all over, and it's been all over you

It's a beautiful day
Don't let it get away

After that Helen remembered very little; she supposed she must have slipped off into something of a light doze. All she could think of was the chill, which wound and slunk down the tunnel despite the layer of earth separating her from the wind; the bare, well-trodden dirt ground into her bare backside and all she felt like doing was putting her head down and crying. At intervals her eyes lingered on the mysterious man who seemed to be her savior and her curse, but she couldn't see his face: his gaze was fixed steadily on the tunnel entrance, the cold clarity of the sunlight and the harsh world above ground. He seemed to be waiting.

Helen had closed her eyes for she knew not how long, when faint voices tickled the edges of her hearing, and she struggled to wake up, though the cold kept dragging her down.

Good Lord, Remus, there you are... Why didn't you wait in the house?... it's freezing out here...

Bit someone, Poppy. Helen. Her name, she said...

What are you going on about? Poor dear, it must have been a rough night...

Helen's eyes jerked open, as she recognized the voice and manner of Poppy Pomfrey, the nurse who had all but saved her life.

Come on, back to the castle. A day or two in the hospital wing and I can have you back in class, no trouble...

No, you're not listening! Down the tunnel... I... I told her to try and get warm... I think I bit her... don't remember much...

Oh, Remus, said Poppy's voice quietly, almost too softly for Helen to hear. She sounded instantaneously frightened, sympathetic, and stern. Oh, dear... here... here's a cloak, now, wait here, I'll go and look...

There was a brief scraping and a thump, and before Helen could register what was happening, the pale face of Poppy Pomfrey, flushed by cold and fear, was right in front of her eyes. Poppy looked straight into Helen's eyes, and murmured, There now. Don't be afraid...

Helen wanted to scream. She wanted to get up right there, to stand as tall as she could -- and she towered over Poppy, she knew -- and shout the nurse down, shriek at her that how could she not be afraid, she was terrified!, and if Pomfrey could experience as much pain and suffering in ten minutes as Helen had felt in her whole life, then see if she could hear the words don't be afraid' and not be sent into a panic!

But she didn't. She sat where she was, and curled up even tighter and smaller than she ever had before.

Through the next few minutes, Helen distantly understood that she was being helped to her feet, supported out of the tunnel, and handed a thick, wonderfully warming knee-length cloak. She wrapped it tightly around herself, immensely grateful for the cover. The sun was still low in the pale wintry sky, and it was obviously still very early morning. Helen wondered how long she'd really been in that tunnel.

Poppy stood between Remus and Helen, supporting both of them with her stout little form, though they were both nearly a head taller than her.

Helen looked up through eyes that stung with cold, and was honestly surprised to see that they were walking towards the castle ruins that, for some reason, Helen still thought of as a big tourist location. Poppy had told her that the tumbled-down old castle was actually a fully functional school, and that its outward appearance to Muggles was that of a ruin; one of the many deterrents that surrounded the building.

Helen blinked. She was a Muggle -- and she knew that she had seen ruins here many times before.

Why could she now clearly see an enormous, turretted fortress?

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It was a beautiful day
Beautiful day
Don't let it get away
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Deja vu all over again.

The solid, steady ache. The slight dizziness when she moved her head. The firmly enforced bed rest -- and all the waiting, alone, with no one there even to hold her hand.

But no one had ever been there to hold her hand, had they? No one, for her entire life.

If a djinn had magically appeared and granted Helen her heart's wish, the only thing she would have asked for was someone to hold her hand. It didn't matter who it was. It didn't matter if they said anything. She just wanted, so badly, to have someone.

Instead she gathered up a fistful of sheet and clenched her hand tight around it. And she slept, waiting for the ache to go away on its own.

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Touch me, take me to that other place
Teach me, I know I'm not a hopeless case
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Here now, drink this, said Madam Pomfrey gently, holding Helen's head up.

Helen accepted the goblet with surprisingly steady hands. She got one small whiff of the odor of the stuff she was supposed to drink, however, and she nearly spilled the whole thing.

she said, making a face. That's disgusting. It smells like rotting cabbages.

Poppy gave her a patient grimace of resignation, and began to explain. It may taste terrible, but it will cure you much faster than any Muggle item around. I'm afraid the flavor comes from an infusion of --

No, no, don't tell me, interrupted Helen. You'll make it worse.

Just drink up, the nurse sighed. She left Helen's bedside, closing the curtains on the way. Helen supposed she'd only spent about a day in the hospital wing,' as Poppy called it; but it felt much longer.

Helen weighed her chances. If she left the potion untouched, Poppy would certainly notice; but she could at least put it off for a while. Give herself some time to gather the courage to gulp it. Yes, she'd do that, at least. She reached over and put the goblet on the bedside table, then laid back against her pillows and sighed, trying to let herself sink into a blissful trance-like state, where she couldn't remember anything, where her thoughts were faded and muted, as if a translucent white filter had been placed over them.

You should drink that, said a soft voice.

Helen started awake.

she snapped, then bit her lip against a groan as her head spun circles around her apparently melting brain.

Remus was standing by her bedside, the curtains only pulled open a fraction. He looked inside at her with such a mixture of sadness, sympathy, and regret that she stared for a moment, and eventually tried to stammer, I -- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to --

He smiled wearily. She saw that he was leaning heavily on the wall. Just drink the potion. You'll be much sorrier if you don't. He started levering himself away from the wall, but she stopped him with one outstretched hand. He looked down at his sleeve, which was caught in Helen's grasp, to her face, which looked at him pleadingly.

Who are you? she gasped, trying to sit up.

He frowned at her struggles, and put a hand on her shoulder, pushing her back down gently. Take it slowly, he said, sounding genuinely concerned. It hurts at first.

Helen looked into his eyes, so full of pain. It seemed, to Helen, that it must never stop hurting.

Whatever it' was.

She tried and failed to lever herself into a sitting position. She was just getting her fingers wedged against the matress to try again when she felt Remus' hands slide under her arms, as if she were a child he was going to try and lift. With the combined push and pull, Helen managed to finally sit up without too much trouble.

Remus leaned back against the wall, ashen-faced and breathing hard. Poppy's going to kill me, he muttered.

Helen couldn't manage a smile, though she knew exactly what Remus was thinking -- the nurse was so incredibly determined to make people heal, whether they wanted to or not, and doing such heavy lifting wasn't helping Remus' condition any.

After a moment Remus caught his breath back, and leaned back towards Helen's bed, sideways. Please drink it, he said, and Helen couldn't help but nod, her eyes captivated by the look in his soft brown ones. She picked up the goblet, hesitated, glanced surreptitiously at the odd man once again.

Hold your breath, he advised wisely.

She did so. Pinching her nose tightly, Helen downed the whole potion in two gulps. Thunking the goblet back onto the bedside table, she spluttered as the very last of it slid away down her esophagus, leaving a nasty residual flavor in her mouth. What with that potion on top of neglecting to brush her teeth for two days, she was afraid she probably had record-breaking bad breath.

Her breath, of course, didn't concern her so much at the moment as did Remus, who was still standing there, watching her. She coughed once or twice, and swallowed, but the horrible taste wouldn't go away; so, finally, she looked back up at him.

She realized that this was her first time to see his face perfectly clearly, clean of blood and rain, close-up and well-lit. His hair was almost exactly the same shade of brown as hers, if perhaps a bit lighter; but his was flecked through with a heavy peppering of gray. There were two distinct sets of lines on his face -- a face that had far too many lines, as a matter of fact, for a man who seemed relatively young. One set was faint, unused at the moment; lines clearly indicating bright smiles, laughter, a generally cheerful and agreeable person. Allan had never had any lines like that, Helen realized vaguely.

The second set was currently in use, however -- shadow-darkened furrows on his brow, the smallest of all tics in the corner of his mouth, circles under his eyes rather than crows' feet crinkling the edges of them. Here was a man who had taken more than his fair burden of life and all its complications, and had, so far, managed to survive it without losing a sense of humor -- while at the same time aging prematurely, probably in both mind and body. Helen felt strangely sympathetic for him, her fear abating slightly.

Who are you? she asked more gently.

Remus looked away. Remus J. Lupin, professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he recited, blinking defiantly at the far wall.

Not that, said Helen, though she was intruiged by the notion that he was a professor.

What am I? Remus finished for her, bitterly. Of course, I'm a what, not a who. Everyone goes straight for that, don't they. Nothing but a monster. He refused to look at her. Helen was rather taken aback by his tone.

Well, then, he said, slumping quickly out of his brief state of anger -- he didn't really seem like someone who could stay vengeful for very long. What I am. I'm a wolf in sheep's clothing. Can't touch silver, have a rather large lunar connection, the curse transfers through bites. Your guess.

Helen stared, her heart sinking. A werewolf, she whispered. And you -- you bit--

I bit you, he said softly.

Helen sank back onto her pillows, trying to grasp the extremity of the situation and failing.

I'm sorry, said Remus.

It's all right, replied Helen automatically, responding to genuine feeling with cold protocol, as she often did.

You should rest, said Remus suddenly, his voice very soft and quiet indeed -- Helen almost didn't hear him. Then, without any resistance on her part, he pushed himself off the wall and pulled her curtains all the way shut. She could hear him as he limped heavily to a spot somewhere across the room.

No, I didn't mean... she began desperately, but she didn't think he could hear her. She wanted to apologize -- it's all right' wasn't what she had meant to say at all --

Of course it wasn't all right. It was all wrong. It would always be wrong -- it probably always had been wrong for Remus, and it's all right' was just the kind of stupid thing people said to him who really, really didn't understand what he lived with. Helen couldn't believe she had just said something so dumb and unfeeling -- she should understand it better than other people; she should have been able to get it right.

She burrowed back under her covers and, more miserable than ever, let the white filter take over her mind.

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See the world in green and blue
See China right in front of you
See the canyons broken by cloud
See the tuna fleets clearing the sea out
See the Bedouin fires at night
See the oil fields at first light and
See the bird with a leaf in her mouth
After the flood all the colors came out

Touch me, take me to that other place
Reach me, I know I'm not a hopeless case

What you don't have you don't need it now
What you don't know you can feel it somehow
What you don't have you don't need it now
Don't need it now

Beautiful day...
-- Beautiful Day' by U2
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A/N: The lyrics of Beautiful Day' are mixed up somewhat, but out it down to artistic license. The song is on U2's newest (as far as I know) album, All That You Can't Leave Behind. Do you like it so far? Drop a review! Next chapter isn't finished yet, but a huge chunk in sixth chapter is done. I have erratic thought processes. I'll post against as soon as possible! (Remus: And that'll be what, next year?) *hissing whisper* Shut up, they'll hear you!