CHAPTER SIX

By: The Demonic Duo

Remus nursed an icepack on his cheekbone, his face and hand both dreadfully numb from the cold. He was back in his room, resting on his bed and propped against the wall. He sat still, observing Molly whom was seated in a foldable chair furthest away possible in the tiny room. She was staring through him, her face looking fretful and exhausted. It was only late morning and her shift ended after dinner, she had a long day to go.

"How's your face?" She finally asked, sitting up straighter. Remus resisted the erge to roll his eyes. The ice had forced any feeling out of his cheek and left him with an akward tingle. Shrugging, Remus dropped the icepack onto the mattress and put his hand against the clammy skin. "I see..."

Molly sighed, biting the nail on her index finger. Remus scowled as she bit it down to the quick and proceeded to another finger. He hated it when people bit their nails, especially women. Sexist, sure, but it didn't matter to him. Bringing his hands up, he clapped them together noisily. Remus was greatful the noise broke her out of her mystification. He gave her an exhasperated look and pointed to his fingernails. In return, Molly blushed sheepishly and put her hands in her lap.

"Awful habit, I know." She murmured, staring at her hands before gazing back at Remus. "I'm really sorry about Sirius, he was behaving so well too..."

Remus knew that the scene had looked especially bad for Sirius. A pained and bleeding Peter on the floor, whimpering piteously and Remus, getting punched dramatically and falling flat on his back with a sick, blunt sound. The whole scene looked like self defense on his part. He couldn't help but feel oddly pleased with the way things worked out. For now Sirius couldn't follow him, talk to him and touch him. In return he couldn't get secret kicks from clawing at Sirius either, but hey, every action has some sort of downside.

"Well, since you're alright, I can leave." Molly stood, putting the chair against the wall. "I'll keep your door unlocked because lunch is soon."

Remus pleasantly watched her leave, relieved to get her out of his sight. The emotional feeling he felt from her was sickening and made him want to damage her in similar ways done to his brother only days before. He sensed pity and this infuriated him more than anything else. The only people who did not pity him were the patients, and the only person who didn't outright fear him was Sirius.

Sirius. He was beginning to hate the name. It greated on his nerves like coarse sandpaper to an already open wound.

He paused his earlier ponderings and a grossly morbid smile stretched along his mouth. Sandpaper, or perhaps a wirebrush one might use on a grill...and scraped over Sirius's freshly torn skin. It was a delightful combination, he thought. The usually strong teenager, brokenly crying on the floor as Remus mercilessly grated his flesh. If he hadn't had so much control over himself, he may have acted up the will to actually use this method. Well, those exact items weren't in common reach at a hospital... so his nails would have to suffice.

Then, just as he thought this, Remus stopped. His twisted smile turned into an angry frown. He pondered mildly as to why his thoughts always seemed to border on the strange patient. Sure, Remus thought, he was attractive and strong. He hadn't really witnessed the mood swings the teenager spoke of and had certain doubts. He was curious, wondering why Sirius was truly there in the asylum, taking up residence?

He nearly killed someone, just as he had. Remus bit his lip, rolling the thought of Sirius's almost "homicidal" temper in his mind. Sirius, it seemed, had more physical power than emotional restraint. In some ways, Remus could possibly consider Sirius an equal but in others, he and the black haired boy were nearly complete opposites.

He stood, arching his back while he stretched. It was lunch time, and his tiny breakfast wasn't going to cover him until dinner. This time, he'd be able to have peace behind the bushes.

Depositing the ice on his bed, Remus left his room and slinked down the halls in silence. It wasn't as though he needed attention with the decorative bruises that lined his cheekbone. He had to admit, though, that no matter what, he would attract attention.

Remus entered the cafeteria, walking to the window and grabbing a cucumber sandwhich, a simple salad and water. He sat down in an empty seat, leaning over his tray and slowly inspecting the food. The cucumber sandwhich was nice, having the vegetable thinly sliced and a light layer of butter. The salad appeared safe, insect-free and the water was bottled. Today, it seemed, he would be able to eat relatively well.

He lifted the light sandwhich and slowly bit into it, not at all surprised over the cucumber being eaten on bread. Most would find it unusual or strange, but he had these sorts of meals as a child growing up. He rather liked grilling wheat bread, frying tomatoes and sprinkling oregano seasoning on it. Mmm mmm, good.

Remus took the cap of his water bottle off, taking a healthy sip and closing it off. Not bothering to touch the salad, he picked up the tray and dumped the contents. Fortunately, he remembered the silverware and handed them and tray in a bit more politely than he had the day before.

He strolled outside, venturing towards the bushes and sliding into hiding. Remus moved so that his body stretched along the ground, horizontally, behind the brush. He closed his eyes tiredly, already miserably bored. Briefly, he wondered if there was a type of library and if he could have some sort of access to it.

Remus opened his eyes and peeked under the bushes, watching feet move past energetically. He listened to the sounds of the laughter that flitted from person to person. Frowning, he rolled over and faced the brick wall, studying it lazily and remembering the sore he recieved on his face. From Sirius, he sighed.

When would the inner-asylum world stop revolving around that damn person, Remus wondered and sat up, climbing out of the bushes fitfully. He stalked back towards his room, catching sight of a few other patients that gave him odd looks. Remus reasoned that it was because he was new.

It wasn't until he made it to his room and caught his reflection in a plastic mirror that hung on the wall with ornate beads, that he realised why he was the center of some people's attention.

He ran his fingers over the gradually growing bruise, surprised that it didn't hurt more than it did. Earlier when he checked, there were only splotches of little bruises, now his entire cheek was mildly swollen and a reddish-blue. Aah, the fresh look of a new bruise.

Stepping into the room, he gave an irrate sound at the wet puddle on his bed. The ice melted, and since he carelessly left it there, it was in the middle of his bed. He moved his blanket over it, not too concerned with it as he positioned himself onto the bed.

He pulled the pillow towards himself, hugging it comfortably and curling up while thinking about possible things to do. Remus was by no means a social person, in case you haven't noticed, so asking for things was out of the question. Another option was to wander about aimlessly, but he couldn't really see himself finding anything constructive to do... though it did seem a little better than lying around like a beached whale.

Remus stared at the wall, sitting up again and closing his eyes. It was only his what, second day? Or should it be considered his third? Didn't matter, exactly, he was just in agony over the lack of things to do. Or at least for people like himself.

Grudgingly, he had to admit that Sirius provided some sort of amusement for him. Even if it was throwing the ocasional punch or listening to his banal, one-sided conversations.

Swallowing thoughtfully, he left his room and went to roam the halls. He read signs, looking for directionals or even a site map. No such luck, but it was worth the try.

Eventually, Remus stumbled upon the library and was mildly impressed with the size of it. He looked around, heading towards the shelves. He ran his fingers over the spines, finding something of interest and sitting on the floor with it perched in his lap.

TBC.

Yes, yes, I know it's short. There's not much for me to do with it, so I'm sorry. Okay?

Hm, this story's pretty pointless isn't it? I hope it's building up... I mean, later on it will probably take a more violent turn, but I'm not sure yet. Please review!