Disclaimer: I, Alisa Retberg, own none of the characters except for anynames, places, etc. unknown to you. Any other character, place, etc., belongs to the fabulous J. K. Rowling. And if I was making any money off of this story, d'you really think I'd be posting it on a website?
Drip.
Drip. Drip.
I blink my eyes slowly, the bright light streaming in through the tiny window burning my eyes.
Drip. Drip.
I sit myself up and feel a sharp pain in the left palm. I draw my hand up closely to my squinting eyes to find a shard of glinting glass embedded in my palm.
Drip. Drip.
Wincing, I pry the glass from my hand with dirty nails and watch as droplets of blood form in the empty space and trickle down my wrist.
Drip. Drip.
I study my surroundings. They had been extremely careful to remove all breakable objects from the room, glass especially. Looking about, my eyes spy the broken window, glass glittering around me.
Drip. Drip.
I turn my eyes to examine the room more carefully. Three long slashes work their way down the doorframe and along one wall; the boards once covering the window lay in splinters in a corner, the smashed glass forming a half circle around the empty window frame; bloody prints of my own trace and retrace the boundaries of these four walls.
Drip. Drip.
I turn my eyes on myself. I first notice my hands, stinging and smarting with cuts and scratches. I notice the fine crescent shape along my calf, shining in red. I feel the burning of open wounds upon my back, the tenderness of new bruises spackling my body.
Drip. Drip.
I run a hand through my hair, wincing as the sweat dripping from by brow teases the freshly made cut on my hand. I wipe the flow of blood on the tattered clothing around me. They never told me to take them off.
Drip. Drip.
I moisten my lips with my tongue and heave a breathless sigh, the pain in my chest restricting normal breathing. I clear my throat to find my voice raspy and thin, but the normalcy of me at the moment.
Drip. Drip.
They had told me the first time would be painful, but I never imagined it would be that great. It felt as if my very essence was being torn apart, ripping me, atom from atom. It felt as if my very soul was lost from me, gone with my body, and a new mind was in control, absolute control.
Drip. Drip.
They'd given me the wolf's bane; indeed, they'd given it to me. Hours, days in advance, they said, would help it flow through, would bring about the healing affects. But as the moon rose above the horizon — I could feel it move within me, feel its gravitational pull as it rose — all trace and thought of the bane left me. The wolf in me took control, shoving the man out, my human body gone with it.
Drip. Drip.
I close my eyes against the sunlight and remember lying in my bed as the Healers surrounded me, holding cloth to the crescent shape on my calf, words intermingling with blood, all a swirling eddy of thought and light….
Drip. Drip.
They woke me the next morning with a calming draft ready. They gave it to me — forced it down — and told me. Threw the words around a bit; showed me the tooth mark on my leg; told me my own story. Told me I'd be staying here a while, until the next full moon; gave me time to think before they moved me off to a public ward.
Drip. Drip.
Day after day, time after time, they told me how normal a life I could lead; only a bit of a distraction once a month, and no more. But I couldn't — I wouldn't believe them.
Drip. Drip.
Two weeks till full moon and I met a man in my ward. Told me he knew a fellow who had the same illness and found it quite easy to manage; I told him I'd bite him if he didn't shut up.
Drip. Drip.
And the days ebbed by. With only five days left, they moved me off to a private ward and brought out a goblet of wolf's bane. Need to get it in your blood, they told me, and so I drank it, twice daily. With only one day left, they packed up a bag for me and drove me to a place in the woods. Said it wasn't safe to have a werewolf on the floor with the full moon mere hours away.
Drip. Drip.
They placed the bag outside the door and bolted me in; boards on the windows and door; charms and enchantments on the whole place. Locked me up tight and said they'd come 'round after the moon set, and just like that they left me.
Drip. Drip.
I open my eyes and sigh. I hear a knock at the door as a voice calls my name.
Drip. Drip.
"I'm here," I say, licking my lips again, tasting metallic blood on my tongue.
"I'm going to open the door," says a calm woman's voice, "and bring in your things."
Drip. Drip.
I hear charms being lifted, boards being removed. The door cracks open. A head of glowing blonde hair appears. She gives a soft pitying coo and enters cautiously, placing the bag at my feet.
Drip. Drip.
"You get dressed and then we'll get you back to Mungo's to get cleaned up," she says softly, as if speaking above a whisper might harm me.
I nod, not even caring that here I lie, naked and bruised, in front of a woman.
Drip. Drip.
Her eyes travel to the ceiling for a moment.
"It rained last night," she mentions casually. "It seems you have a leak." She waves her wand and the dripping ceases.
"Must've been downright bothersome," she adds, smiling softly.
"Merlin only knows," I say, trying my hardest to keep my tongue civil, "a dripping ceiling was the least of my worries last night."
LE FIN.
Author's Notes:
Hey everyone! Just so everyone knows, this is not our own Remus Lupin. Think about it and go reread chapter 22in Order of the Phoenix.
Hope you like! Please review!
Alisa