A/N: This is quite short, but there should be more very soon. It gets very interesting indeed in the chapter after this.... ; ) Please review!

Chapter 23.

"All right dear, hold still. This may sting a little."

Elena nodded mutely, staring straight ahead, so Madam Pomfrey dipped a small spatula into a pot of steaming purple salve. Elena didn't so much as flinch as the healing ointment was applied, but this only worried the matron more. The girl barely seemed to know where she was. She had nearly given the old nurse a heart attack earlier, when she had shown up at the door of the hospital wing in a nightdress soaked with blood, her dark hair hanging in strings about her pale face, her eyes red from crying. She had offered no explanations for her condition, and in her wisdom, Madam Pomfrey had demanded none. She simply sat the girl down, bathed the lacerations in her shoulder, prepared a stong cup of herbal tea and brushed out the girl's tangled hair.

After about half an hour of this treatment, some colour seemed to return to Elena's face, and Madam Pomfrey's sharp gaze noted the way the young woman's hand trembled a little as she replaced her empty tea cup on a small bedside table. In the nurse's mind, these were good signs. Anything was better than the symptoms of catatonic shock she had been displaying when she had first entered the ward.

After another moment's pause, Elena turned to the older woman, but did not meet her gaze.

"You know, don't you." Her voice was flat. "You've all known all along. About Remus."

Ah. Now this begins to make sense. Those gashes in her shoulder... The full moon last night... And Miss Greenstone didn't know about Professor Lupin... Oh, you poor dears. What a way to find out. Poor Remus, poor child... What can I tell you now?

"Yes." Honesty seemed the best course. "I'm the school nurse, it was neccessary that I know from the first."

Elena nodded dully, then lifted her head. "Does it ... " Her voice caught, and she tried again. "Does it hurt him? Transforming, I mean?"

Madam Pomfrey considered lying, then decided there was no point. "A werewolf's transformation is involuntary. The body fights against it. I understand the pain is excruciating."

What little colour Elena had gained fled her cheeks at once. To her credit, however, her gaze did not drop.

"How old was he?" she whispered painfully, "When he received the bite, how old?"

At this, the older witch sighed. "Too young," she replied softly, "No more than five or six. A baby. His parents did all they could for him, but as we all know... there is no cure for lycanthropy. Remus has lived with the curse all his life. I never met a boy who deserved it less."

Unable to help herself, Elena's eyes filled again with tears. She thought she had cried all she could, but Madam Pomfrey's information splintered her aching heart all over again. She was finally beginning to understand the nameless sorrow that haunted Remus's beautiful eyes. She was finally realising the full extent of the burden he carried. No wonder he had pushed her away! Poor, beloved, stupid, wonderful man. Had he thought she would turn from him if she knew? Did he mean to remain alone forever? She would never - could never - leave him to that fate. She loved him. Now that she what he was and what he had suffered, she loved him even more. When she thought of all that he had already endured, she found herself battling a powerful desire to run to his side and hold him and love him and give him all of herself, all that she could, so that he would know the worst was over. He would never be alone again.

But of course, it would never be that simple. Remus was as stubborn as he was noble. Making him see reason would not be easy. Especially not if...

"Madam Pomfrey," Elena asked urgently, "When Remus becomes human again, does he remember what happened while he was a wolf? Will he remember... I mean..." She gestured awkwardly to the magically-healing gashes on her shoulder.

The nurse looked thoughtful. "I cannot be sure either way," she mused, "Ordinarily, you see, Professor Snape prepares Professor Lupin a special concoction known as the Wolfsbane potion. If made and taken correctly, the potion enables a werewolf to retain control over its bloodthirsty instincts. He or she keeps their own mind during transformaiton. They can curl up and sleep off the curse without putting themselves or anyone else in danger. In these cases, yes, the person remembers. This month I understand there was a problem with the potion ingredients - but Remus drank what was prepared for him up until the last minute. And I don't know what effect that had on the transformation. If the potion was useless and the transformation complete, he will remember little or nothing. If the Wolfsbane had some small effect, then perhaps his mind was clearer than it would otherwise have been." Her tone became grave. "The fact that you escaped the encounter with your life rather suggests the latter. In any case, you will soon be able to ask him yourself. He will be here any minute to collect a revival potion and to have any minor injuries attended to."

Elena leapt immediately to her feet. "Then I have to go, right now," she announced urgently.

Madam Pomfrey looked startled. "Surely you aren't... Miss Greenstone - Elena - you can't just pretend this didn't happen! You have to speak to him."

"I will speak to him, but not now, not like this. He can't be allowed to know that he hurt me. Don't you see?" Elena looked searchingly into the matron's stern face. "Madam Pomfrey, you say you've known Remus since he was a boy. Surely, then, you know him well enough to realise that if he sees these silly scratches as realises their source, he will try to blame himself. And once he gets such ideas into his head, I will have no chance of ever convincing him to... to..." Elena stumbled to halt, with no idea of how to complete her sentence.

Thankfully, the nurse seemed to understand, for she hesitated, then nodded. "Very well," she said quietly, "Wait here while l fetch you some more salve. Apply it once more this evening and you should be left with only faint scars. Then you are free to go." Madam Pomfrey got to her feet and headed for her supplies office. At the door, she paused, then turned back. "Elena - know that you know... Just be careful. Be careful of you both."

Elena had the feeling she wasn't speaking of physical danger. Nonetheless, she nodded, and with that the older witch disappeared.

Moving quickly, Elena glanced around and began to gather her belongings. She balled up her bloodstained night dress and tucked it under her arm, then tightened the loose, plain robes that Madam Pomfrey had leant to her to wear while she was being treated. Impatient to be gone, she began to pace uneasily. If only she had thought to ask exactly when Remus was expected! What was taking the matron so long? Foolhardy to wait any longer! She could pick up the salve later in the day. The most important thing now was to be gone from the hospital wing before Remus turned up and started asking questions that could ruin everything. Well, what little they had, anyway.

With this decision made, Elena turned again and strode purposefully for the door.

Which abruptly opened of its own accord, stopping her dead in her tracks.

Remus entered, looking ill and exhausted. Despite her dismay at being thwarted, Elena felt her heart wrench in her chest when she looked at him.

"Remus!" His name escaped her lips before she could check it, her tone conveying her surprise and her pain in equal measures.

Remus's head jerked up, and his eyes widened in shock. "Elena! What are you doing here?"

"I - I - " Frantically, she searched her suddenly blank mind for a viable story to explain what she was doing alone in the hospital wing in the early hours of the morning. "I fell!" She managed at last. "Down the stairs."

"Are you all right?"

Her heart gave a little leap at his obvious concern. "Fine. I'm fine. Just thought I should ... come and make sure. But I'm fine."

For a moment he looked relieved, then his eyebrows drew together in a dark frown. "If you're fine," he said slowly, "Then what is that?" He gestured to the bundle she was still carrying.

Too late, Elena remembered the bloodstained nightdress she had tucked under her arm.

She looked at it blankly. "Uh - I - cut my shoulder in the fall. But I really am all right now. Madam Pomfey did a wonderful job, she says there'll only be a light scar left, so I really should be going, let you get on with ... whatever it is you're here to do."

She made to move past him, but Remus had gone very still. He did not shift from the doorway, effectively blocking her exit. He was staring at the nightdress with an expression of fierce concentration, as though he were trying to remember something.

"Elena," he said quietly, his tone perfectly even and controlled, "Show me the scar."

That brought her up short. "What?" She replied stupidly.

"The scar, Elena," he clarified patiently, "You said you cut yourself. You said Madam Pomfrey warned you there will be a light scar. I want to see it."

"Why?"

"Concern for your health?"

"I told you, I'm fine!"

"Then there should be no problem with letting me see Madam Pomfrey's good work."

Scowling outwardly and panicking inwardly, Elena reached up and pulled the neck of her robes down and to the side so that only one fast-healing slash was visible. Just as quickly, she covered it up again.

"There," she said defiantly. "Happy now?"

But far from looking gratified, Remus's carefully controlled expression seemed only to have tightened. His mouth was a grim line but his eyes were pools of horrified fear as he reached out to her, and gently tugged the robes aside again. Elena choked on a tiny sob of despair, but she knew it was pointless to try and stop him.

The pale skin of her shoulder was fully revealed, and with it, the four ugly gashes that marred it. They had long since stopped bleeding, and were already on the path to scabbing over and healing. But they were angry and red, and though the scars they left would be faint, they would be wide and jagged.

Elena could not meet his eyes as he lifted his right hand and curled his stong, blunt-nailed fingers into the semblance of a claw, as if to see if the pattern of slashes matched.

They did.

The worst silence Elena had ever endured ensued.

Finally, Remus spoke, injecting a world of accusation, disbelief and horror into one short word: "You ! "