Disclaimer: Duh.
A/N: Well, we all know what tonight is: YAY! So, obviously, update may not happen for a little while. I even requested the day off work so that I could read it straight through; I think I'd go crazy if I had to take a break after waiting this long for it. So, while I cannot hope to compare with the great Ms. Rowling, I hope you enjoy, and please please PLEASE review.
Chapter Eleven: Scents and Sensations
Ginny sat for a long time on her bed that morning, staring at the folded bit of parchment on the floor. Scalding tears streaked down her cheeks and she found it intolerably hard to breathe, like someone had wrapped an iron band around her chest and continued to tighten it. After nearly an hour, she did what every sensible girl does when her heart was broken. She took a long, hot shower, put on a bit of make-up, dressed to kill, and went down to breakfast where she promptly ignored Remus to the absolute best of her ability.
Had Hermione been there, she wouldn't have been fooled, but she had finally gone to bed and blessed sleep after a night of chasing the elusive white rabbit, and wasn't at breakfast. There were any number of women on staff who might have recognized it, had they been a bit younger, and Poppy would certainly have seen it, purely out of the gentle compassion that was her soul, but she rarely ate in the Great Hall, preferring to be in the infirmary at all times in case of emergency. A few of the oldest students saw it, recognized it, but had no idea as to the cause. It was something they themselves did, those young women so close to their majority. When faced with a broken heart, you did one of two things: you one) wallowed in your pity with your friends and a great deal of chocolate, not getting out of your pajamas for as many days as necessary, or two) showed them exactly what they were turning their back on.
It was not surprise to some of them that Ginevra Weasley had chosen this second option. She was a legend in that school in her own right, a powerful witch, a good friend, and a thoroughly frightening enemy. And on most people, this option would have worked beautifully. On any of her past boyfriends, in fact.
Remus, however, was not an ordinary person, and even through his own turmoil, the wolf could smell, could taste, could feel her pain. If he looked closely, he could see the redness of her eyes that the make-up couldn't hide, see the pulse beating an erratic tattoo at the base of her throat. She ate nothing, didn't even bother pushing her food around on her plate. She cupped her tea in both hands, trying to warm them, and sipped at it, feeling the steam curl around her face.
There was one person who saw, and recognized, and knew. And wondered. It was not, as one might suspect, Albus Dumbledore, who often seemed oblivious to any relationship he didn't have a hand in, but rather, a man sitting at the far end of the staff table, his pitch black eyes traveling over them both as he drank his thick, dark coffee. Severus was a very private man, though, and he respected other people's privacy. That didn't necessarily mean that he didn't do all he could to find out the secret; it simply meant that having learned it, he felt no compulsion to share said secret. So he observed, and he wondered, and he resolved to understand.
It did not escape the former spy's notice that Callum was not at breakfast. It could have the rather simple explanation, of course, that the full moon began that night, and the boy would doubtless need his rest for the coming nights. Yes, that could explain it, but his instinct told him that it didn't, and he'd long ago learned to trust his instinct. His talkative apprentice had passed on several interesting pieces of information from the Littlest Weasley, and he knew that Callum had been dealing very very well with the werewolf, better, it could even be said, that Lupin ever had. For Ginny said Callum had made a truce with himself, and certainly the negligible number of nightmares he experienced nowadays was an indication that it was working.
He was rather surprised by the thought that he would need to tell Hermione about this, so she could work on it, too. As unsubtle as she was in her dealings or approach, she could understand the finest subtleties in a person, problem, or potion, and she knew Miss Weasley far better than he did. If she could provide any information, the puzzle would have that many more pieces in it. With that thought in mind, he rose from the table and swept away to begin preparing for his lessons, but not before doing a very interesting and somewhat uncharacteristic thing: passing by Ginny's chair, he stopped briefly and laid his hand gently on her shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly before continuing on his way. She looked after him, startled, but grateful.
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Callum lay huddled in a small ball under his bed, whimpering and crying, tears running down his face and choking off his breath. Remus had yelled at him. He rocked himself back and forth, arms wrapped tightly about himself. Remus had been angry with him. His nose ran and his throat hurt, and the wolf whined pathetically in his mind. He had hurt Remus and Ginny. He had hurt his pack.
As the light changed the shadows on the floor, he knew the day was passing, though he continued to lie hidden long after his tears had ended. He did not want to be there when Remus came back, did not want to be in so much turmoil before the transformation. He had had such high hopes for this moon, had prayed that his instinct was correct and that the wolf wouldn't be as desperate. He didn't know what to expect with such agitation, but he knew that his human self wasn't the only one in pain; he still cared for Remus and Ginny, even as a wolf. They were his pack.
While Remus was teaching his last class of the day, Hermione entered the chambers and called quietly for Callum. He didn't come out immediately, but, having been enlightened by Severus, she wisely informed him that there was no one with her. He crawled out from under the bed and she wordlessly handed him the smoking goblet of Wolfsbane. He drank it down, giving her back the empty goblet.
The young woman smoothed his tousled curls, wiping away a smudge of dirt from his cheek. "Ginny loves you, Callum," she told him softly. "She said to tell you that she's not angry with you, and that you didn't hurt her, so you needn't feel guilty. Will you go see her?"
"Why didn't she come see me herself?" he wondered in a tiny, guilt-stricken voice.
"Because she didn't want to get you in more trouble with Remus. Go to her, Callum, please. She can't stand the idea that she got you in trouble."
"She didn't," Callum whispered. "I lied to Remus. I just thought…" he sniffled and she pulled him to her in a gentle hug. "I just thought that if she stayed he would have to admit that he likes her," he confessed. "I didn't think he'd get so angry."
"It's all right, Callum," she soothed, rubbing his back in slow circles. "It's all right."
"It's not all right."
"Perhaps not," she agreed solemnly. "But it will be."
Meeting her gaze, he nodded gravely and moved closer to the fireplace. "Will you tell Remus?"
"I will."
Callum threw the powder into the fireplace and walked through the flames into Ginny's room. He saw her sitting at her piano, not playing, just sitting there, staring at her hands where they rested on the black and ivory keys. "I'm sorry," he choked.
She turned around, her amber brown eyes infinitely sad, but she smiled at him and held out her arms. He raced into them and she held him tightly, murmuring into his hair. He couldn't make out the words she was saying, but just her voice soothed him, just her touch and her gentle presence. Tears trickled down her face to fall on his scalp and he just squeezed harder. "You have nothing to be sorry about, Callum," she told him fiercely. "This is between me and Remus." She pulled back slightly and looked him in the eye. "Although, you shouldn't have lied to him. But I will not have you feeling guilty because he can't face his problems."
He nodded, after thinking this through, and the tension lifted. For the first time all day, he could breathe again. "Can…" He trailed off, licking his lips nervously. "Can I stay here tonight?" he asked in a small voice.
She looked at him with surprise, but nodded. "You don't think it'll be a problem?"
"He's calm around you," he answered, shaking his head. "We both are."
Ginny didn't want to ask which both it was.
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Remus left the Potions Master's office after drinking his Wolfsbane. Severus had, for once, not said anything, simply watched him thoughtfully, and that was unnerving enough in itself, never mind how the rest of his day had gone. He knew he had overreacted to every part of the situation; it was just his own little PMS, or Pre-Moon Syndrome, as Sirius had rather grotesquely named it. He stalked into his chambers, forcing himself to take deep, calming breaths before talking to Callum. He needed to apologize. He wasn't entirely sure how to apologize to a nine year old boy for yelling at him, but he had to find a way. This wasn't really Callum's fault.
He didn't find Callum in his chambers, however. Instead, he found Hermione Granger idly leafing through one of Callum's books on astronomy, the very one, in fact, that Heidi had given him for his birthday. "Good evening, Remus," she greeted casually, not even looking up from the pages.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded, aware only after the fact of the snarl to his voice.
She closed the book and met his gaze unflinchingly, despite the wolf in him rising closer to the surface. "I'm here to relay the message that Callum is with Ginny, and will stay with her tonight."
"Tonight's the full moon," he said stupidly.
"Yes, Remus, I think we're all aware of that," she snapped sarcastically, and that crazy, inappropriate part of his brain decided that she had definitely been spending too much time around Snape.
"She'll get hurt."
"No, she won't. Callum loves her with every part of him. Every part," she repeated with particular emphasis. "Neither the boy nor the cub will ever hurt her. You, though, are another story entirely."
"Hermione-" he bristled.
"Shut up, Remus," she ordered, her gaze hard. "Against my better judgment, I'm passing on the rest of the message, as well. If you promise to behave yourself, you may join them after you've transformed and have control. If this is what you wish, I will remain here until you've changed so that I can open the Floo for you. If you hurt her, however, I will personally lace every single thing you eat and drink with all the silver essence I can lay my hands on. You will not hurt Ginny, Remus, she has been through too much."
He stared at her, his hazel eyes wide. "Ron was right," he said finally, biting off a short, humorless bark of laughter. "You are scary."
"I mean it, Remus. Now what's your choice?"
"I have to go; I can't let Callum transform by himself, the Wolfsbane isn't enough yet."
"I highly doubt that it's Callum's control that's going to be the trouble tonight," she replied dryly.
"Hermione!"
"Well?" she queried simply, raising her eyebrows. Definitely, definitely too much time around Snape.
"Why do I have to wait till after moonrise?" he asked instead.
"We want to make sure that all the wolves are nice and calm before putting you in the same room together," she answered. "I think you'll agree, that's a reasonable precaution. Ginny's rather fond of some of the things in her living room, and I know she'd rather they not get torn apart just because you can't accept your hormones."
"Hermione!"
"I have the feeling that you'd rather not have me see your actual transformation, so would you like me to go into the study and wait?"
"No." He shook his head, trying to clear out the cobwebs of confusion that made it hard to think straight. "I'll go in the bedroom. I need to change clothes anyway. I'll scratch at the door when I'm ready to be let out."
"All right."
He couldn't remember any transformation so utterly, intensely, completely painful. The wolf was furious, howling at the top of his lungs as he tore from Remus' human body, the fur sprouting, the limbs shifting and twisting, changing. Even with the Wolfsbane flowing through his system, the wolf did not relinquish control easily, and Remus knew it would be a battle all night. He debated the wisdom of exposing Ginny to that, but truly was concerned for Callum, and the wolf would have it no other way. Then, too, he wanted to prove to Ginny that she was wrong, that he was not something to be understood. He, what he was, was something to be feared and hated.
Not loved.
When he was feeling more or less himself, or at least the dark, gloomy, thoroughly morbid self that he was during the full moon, he scratched at the door and Hermione let him out. She had seen him in wolf form once before, on that night that brought him screaming to wakefulness in his nightmares from time to time, and seemed utterly unsurprised. She said nothing to him, merely moved over to the fireplace and threw in the Floo powder. "Ginny's room, password, bedbug," she declared clearly. The flames roared green and he stepped inside. "I mean it, Remus," her words followed him through. "You hurt her, I will hurt you worse."
He stepped through into Ginny's living room, his heart pounding painfully inside his chest at the chaos he knew he would find. He was, therefore, astonished to find nothing broken, nothing clawed or bitten or smashed about. Sweet, melancholy music drifted through the room, coming from the redhead sitting calmly in front of the piano, dressed in simple flannel pajama pants and a tank top. Curled up in a contented ball at her feet was a small werewolf, tail draped over his nose as he listened to the music.
Remus had no idea what to do, and with that, the wolf took control. With a whine that came from deep in his throat, he edged closer, tail drooping, head hung low. Amber brown eyes looked straight into the golden eyes of the large, deadly creature slowly closing the distance between them.
"That's very sweet," she told the animal, and its tail wagged slightly with joy at hearing that soothing voice. "But you can't apologize for his problems."
Remus was stunned, and rather insulted, and he prepared the wrestle the demon for control. Surprisingly, the wolf gave in without a fight, slinking to the back of his brain, still there, still aware, and running through every sense and emotion and thought that came in. He turned back to look at Ginny, who was still watching him thoughtfully.
"And hello to you, too, Remus," she greeted. After a moment, she returned her attention to the music, and the cub gave a contented growl.
Boy, he corrected almost absently.
Of all the transformations that he'd undergone in all those years, he couldn't think of a single one that was stranger. Perhaps the first nocturnal prowl of the transformed Marauders could come close, but it certainly didn't beat it. Ginny very calmly played the piano, occasionally talking to one or the other of them, though usually Callum and rarely Remus. The music washed over him, keeping him quiet, smoothing out his anxiousness. He couldn't understand how the wolf wasn't raging within Callum, he was so young, had been so recently bitten, but he just lay there under the bench, his chin resting on the top of one of Ginny's bare feet. Her flesh was so close to his jaw, so dangerously close, yet his jaw never opened but once or twice in a lupine yawn.
Ginny eventually stopped playing, shaking out her hands and massaging them to relieve the stiffness of using them too long. She moved over to her couch, and Remus hesitantly followed. When she sat down, he settled on his haunches near her, laying his chin on her knee and gazing up at her soulfully. She frowned down at him, her eyes hard, but her hand moved softly along the top of his head, her nails scratching gently behind one ear. It was utterly amazing how good that felt.
"I don't think it's very fair of you to do this, Remus," she told him lowly, and he whined at the heavy pain in her voice. "The wolf in you has no problem with telling me, with wanting me, but what do you want?"
He wanted to tell her, wanted so badly to let her know, but he didn't know what he would be telling her. He nuzzled her knee and whined again.
"I told you I wasn't scared," she whispered. "I told you your friends accepted you for who and what you are. Two of us have seen you tonight, and we didn't run. The only one that's scared is you. And you shouldn't have yelled so badly at Callum this morning. He was just trying to help. He made a mistake, yes, but he more than paid for it by spending the day crying under his bed. He had absolutely no reason to suspect that you'd fly off the handle like that. You've made him happy, Remus. He just wants to do the same for you. You're his pack. A pack protects, a pack supports…a pack loves."
He was terrified, but for the first time in his life, he made the conscious decision to relax and trust the wolf…trust himself. He leaned forward and lightly licked Ginny's hand. She giggled reflexively, then smiled.
"And I'm sure that was very hard for you, but it turned out all right, didn't it?" she asked softly.
Yes, it had, he realized, laying his head back on her knee.
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Remus awoke to the pain, immediately stumbling away from the couch, but surprisingly, it wasn't nearly as bad. It still hurt, there were just some things that the human body was never meant to do, but the wolf wasn't fighting it, wasn't clawing at his skin in an attempt to break free, to stay unrestrained. He found the clothing Callum had thoughtfully gone back to the rooms to get and changed into the loose, not quite pajamas that gave him the easiest mobility after the moon. Callum awoke briefly as he, too, changed back, but fell asleep again almost immediately. Scooping up the cub, and this time, Remus offered no correction, he went back through the fireplace and tucked Callum into his own bed, lightly kissing his forehead.
He returned through the flames and, for a time, simply watched the young woman sleep on the couch. She'd fallen asleep at some point in the night, feeling completely safe in a room with two transformed werewolves, and he had curled up with her, giving her the warmth of his fur. She shivered now, in the early morning chill of late September.
Picking her up, Remus carried her into her bedroom and laid her down on the bed, sliding her gently under the blankets. Then, trusting the wolf, he slid in on the other side of her, cradling her to him, losing himself in her scent and the feel of her softness against him. He ached, he knew he should see Poppy for a pain relieving potion, but he didn't want to leave Ginny, this young woman he was reluctantly coming to care for in an entirely new way.
She stirred at the warmth, her eyes opening sleepily and looking around her. She turned slightly, glancing back at him, and he met her inquisitive, puzzled gaze.
"I wanted to stay with you," he whispered.
After a moment, she nodded, a slow smile tugging at her lips.
He didn't kiss her; somehow, that just wouldn't be right. He lightly nuzzled her neck and she snuggled against him, the both of them drifting back into sleep, safely wrapped in the warmth and scent of each other. Callum checked on them once after lunch, to see if they needed food, or if Remus needed a potion, and found them both still asleep, their faces completely relaxed, no trace of nightmares tightening their muscles with tension. Smiling, he tiptoed back out the door and let them be. His pack was whole, his pack was peaceful.
He even whistled to himself as he strolled back to his room.