Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, and probably never will…
Once in a Blue Moon
21st July.
The days ticked down.
21st July.
Harry's first full moon.
21st July.
The day that could change everything.
Two days to go. Today and tomorrow. That was all that stood between Remus and the night he dreaded the most.
Harry had begun to show signs of the upcoming lunar event. He became tired quickly, and was fast to show a temper. It didn't suit the boy at all. The usual calm, relaxed temperament had vanished, leaving behind a sharp and snappy attitude, but generally only when provoked.
He was powerful, that much was obvious. Remus could feel the magic rolling off Harry in waves. He could feel the young wizard's magic envelop him whenever he came near. Ordinarily, it was a warm, comforting, golden aura that welcomed everyone into its loving embrace. But now, his aura was jagged and pointy, with blackened tendrils of withheld aggression seeping into the darkest corners of the house. In a way, it was a relief. The feelings of antipathy that the boy clearly held for anything that irritated him were locked away inside. It only showed in his magic. Harry had a tight lock on his emotions, and he knew what was right and wrong.
It was Calla who noticed the difference most of all. She had grown accustomed to the presence of the lovable child who roamed her house. She would never take him for granted, though. Often, she entirely forgot about his lycanthropy and instead reveled in the trail of excitement, exploration and discovery that Harry left in his wake.
Instead of in the middle of one of the literally magical adventures that he continually went on, Harry would be found curled up on a chair, sleepily trying to read a book, or blankly staring into the red hot flames of the fire in the grate.
It didn't help that Remus was affected, too. Admittedly, it wasn't so bad, what with it not being his first full moon, but it was enough to make the laid back man irritable.
Calla stepped into the living room. Harry was draped over the burgundy sofa, his hand brushing the floor next to an open edition of The Tales of Beedle the Bard. His eyes were closed in sleep, but Calla could see them twitching underneath his eyelids. Dark bluey-black bags framed his face underneath his glasses.
She gently bent over to pick up the fallen book, and placed it on the wooden coffee table. Removing, Harry's glasses, she put them on the arm of the chair by his head, before carefully lifting his arm up off the floor and folding it over his body. She covered his sleeping form with a thin, brown quilt, and placed a kiss on his forehead.
"How's he doing?" A low voice asked from behind her.
"As best as can be expected, I suppose. Tired, but he hasn't had much sleep the last few nights anyway, has he."
"S'pose not. He'll be better sleeping it off as it is. Makes it a whole lot easier." Remus' eyebrows were starting to furrow with concern, "How long has he been there for?"
"He started reading about an hour ago – I don't know when he fell asleep. It doesn't matter too much though, does it?"
"Cals, are you sure he'll be okay, he -"
"Remus," Calla interrupted as politely as one can, "he's going to be fine. It's Harry. He's strong. And you worry too much – that's my job." She earned a small smile from her husband. "Looking at the state of you, I'd say that you could probably do with turning in as well." Remus rolled his eyes. "I saw that! Now get along with you! Go!"
"But it's only quarter to four!" Remus protested childishly.
"I don't care what time it is! If you need rest, you're going to get rest!"
Herding a disgruntled Remus up the stairs, she soon made sure that both of her boys were fast asleep. Remus was out like a light the moment his head touched the pillow.
Calla sat in the living room with a mug of hot chocolate clasped in her hands. She always found that chocolate (of any kind) relieved stress. As much as she tried to hide it behind a frontier of calm, Calla was worried. She was terrified of the days that lay ahead. Who knew what could happen? She'd lived with a grown werewolf for several years without any significant problems, but never a young one. All sorts of horror stories plagued the wizarding world about newly turned werewolves and the havoc they could wreak. Yes, Harry was with Remus, but did that really make anything better? Calla was well versed in the relationships between werewolves on full moons, and it was common knowledge that things could quickly escalate.
No, she reassured herself, everything's going to be fine. Remus will have control, and he knows what he's doing.
But does he? She tried to push the thoughts down, but they just bubbled back up. He's failed before, what's to say it won't happen again?
In frustration, Calla slammed the mug down on the coffee table, wincing at the sound it made. Harry didn't stir. She had always struggled with clearing her mind, but now it was worse than ever. She walked through the kitchen and into the hallway. She took a thin yellow jacket off the hook and stepped out of the house, closing the door behind her and muttering a locking charm under her breath. She needed air – fresh air. And she knew just the place to go.
It wasn't a long journey to the small nearby village – only about a mile of winding country roads. Calla knew them off by heart now, every twist, turn and undulation. She could walk it with her eyes closed. It was refreshing; the unpolluted country air, with the muted sounds of birds in the trees.
Soon enough, the narrow road opened out onto a wider, cobbled street with about five or six picturesque shops on each side. Taking a right, Calla pushed open the door to her favourite café. The Turquoise Teapot was a small shop that served coffee and cakes, as well as selling a collection of vinyl records. For its size, it managed to sell quite an extensive array of records, from Queen to Eric Clapton and just about everything in between.
"Calla!" A warm voice exclaimed from behind the counter.
"Eliza! How're you doing?" Eliza was the proud owner of the establishment and devoted many of her hours to the maintenance and upkeep of it. She was a small, portly woman with reddened cheeks and dark brown hair. What with Calla's regular visits, she and Eliza had quickly become friends. Eliza was a few years older than Calla, but the two had much in common.
"Never better! I don't think you can say the same about yourself, though. Letting off some steam?"
Calla sighed, and sat down at one of the tables by the window. "You could say that."
"Cappuccino, dear?" At Calla's acquiescing nod, she quickly set about making the drink. Before long, it was ready, and Eliza presented Calla with a steaming cup of coffee, and sat down in the chair opposite. "So. What's wrong?"
"Well, nothing's wrong, so to speak." Eliza raised her eyebrows. "No, honestly! It's just that due to some … circumstances, my nephew couldn't stay with Petunia anymore, so he's come to live with Remy and I, and -"
"You don't want him there?"
"No! Nothing of the sort! I love him to pieces! It's just that he has a … a medical condition – the same one as Remus – and it can be difficult sometimes, especially when you don't know what's going to happen."
"This would be a whole lot easier if you just told me what this mystery 'medical condition' was."
"You know I can't do that, as much as I want to, it's -"
"Classified." Eliza finished with a rueful smile: they'd been over this countless times before. "I know."
Calla made a bid to change the subject. "So, how are Jake and his new fiancée doing, what's her name…? Cecilia?"
"Cecily," Eliza corrected, "and they're doing fine, I guess. Stephanie and Mark saw them up by the castle about…" And so they descended into the world of muggle gossip. Calla had never understood the fascination people had with other people's lives, but it served her purpose to get her mind off the full moon. She had a busy mind, constantly worrying about the next thing that needed to be done. Her job didn't help either. She worked in the ministry for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Ever since she'd taken the job, she'd been pushing for the rights of half species, werewolves, and even vampires. She had been forced to stand by the sidelines whilst law after law was passed restricting the lives of so called 'dark creatures'. It seemed that nobody would ever listen to her. But she persevered.
After her marriage to Remus, she had faced increasing discrimination against her, from ignorance to insults. Some had tried to make her redundant, but her boss (one Madame Mina) was sympathetic to her cause and allowed her to maintain her position.
Throughout the ups and downs of her emotional rollercoaster, Eliza had been there to help her unburden herself. The woman always knew exactly what to say to distract Calla from the harsh reality of the world she lived in. When she was shunned, Eliza made her feel as though she was needed – wanted – in the world. She made her remember the reasons why she did what she did. In all honesty, Eliza didn't know the full story (Calla had dressed it up a bit to make it 'muggle worthy') but the basis was still there. Meeting with Eliza always seemed to change her outlook on the world.
But let it not be said that Remus didn't help her through her difficulties. He did. Most assuredly. It was just that every now and again, Calla needed a complete break from the magical world – a moment or two immersed in the muggle world she had grown up in and loved. It was the little things: the cups of coffee; the electronic appliances; the simplicity of the clothing, and even the music. They made her feel more at home than she ever had been in the wizarding world. She loved magic, but with it came a Pandora's Box of nightmares and bad memories that she wished she didn't have.
Pushing open the door to her living room, Calla smiled as she saw Harry snuggled up to Remus on the sofa. Both of them were fast asleep. There was a half-eaten bar of slightly melted muggle chocolate on table, and Calla started to nibble at it as she sat down in the armchair.
It was peaceful. There wasn't a sound save for the rhythmic breathing of the two lycanthropes. All of the windows were thrown wide, in an attempt to alleviate the stuffiness of the living room (it tended to heat up unpleasantly in the summer) but there wasn't a songbird, or even a gnome to disturb the serenity.
The horrors to come could lay dormant in her mind, Calla decided. For now, let there be peace.