NOTE

Here's a nice long one! Forgive me for not being certain of where everything is in and around Hogwarts castle. I'm making it up as I go, and hope no-one will mind any inconsistencies.

Content warning: vague descriptions of injuries, and stigma against werewolves.

9. Moon

Remus left two days later, on the morning of the third of November. His transformation would take place the following night, on the fourth. Before he left he promised Andromeda that he would visit once he'd recovered, and after lunch she took Teddy back to her house in Suffolk.

It was both uncomfortable and relieving to be apart from him. I felt my friends casting me subtle glances, as though they expected me to explode. Admittedly, I was on edge.

The next two days seemed both very long and dangerously short. I did everybody's chores, and helped Molly with the garden and the cooking, not wanting to notice the passage of the time. I myself had always felt attuned to the cycles of celestial bodies, and could feel the slight pull that the moon had on my own blood, my own magic. I couldn't imagine what Remus was going through. I only hoped that the familiarity of Hogwarts was easing the process, as the sun sank towards the horizon on the final day.

Throughout dinner, I was noticeably tense. After having Remus with us, and also hosting Andromeda and Teddy for two days, the table felt very empty. I kept thinking that I was hearing things outside, strange hoots and distant howls, but I knew I was imagining things. It was hard to admit, but I was deeply worried about Remus. What if someone was on the hunt for him? What if he got hurt while he was, as Severus had written, at his most susceptible?

"You three saw him transform once, didn't you? In third year?" I asked, once the meal was over.

Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other, and nodded slowly.

"...What was it like?"

"Well, it didn't look very enjoyable, if that's what you mean," said Ron.

Hermione elbowed him subtly.

Ron cleared his throat. "Sorry. He kind of started shaking, and then his teeth… well…"

They all looked a bit pale, and I gathered that Remus's transformations were just as dreadful as I'd feared. I nodded, trying to make it look like my stomach hadn't turned over.

I climbed the stairs lightheaded that night. I lay in bed looking at the bright face of the moon floating over the woods, and didn't sleep for more than two or three hours. Morning dawned late, and the light was weak and grey. I felt weak, as though I'd gone through some terrible sickness. A nauseous feeling pervaded my stomach, and I picked at my food at breakfast.

I didn't know why I was so nervous. Remus had gone through hundreds of transformations by now and survived. Why would last night have been any different? Maybe it was just that this was the first time I had been so aware of the full moon, and how dangerous it was.

Molly noticed my anxiety, and broached the subject of Remus when we were washing the breakfast dishes.

"It wouldn't be a crime, you know, if you went up there and checked on him. If you're going to be like this until he comes back."

I knew she was right, just as she had been about going to meet him for the first time after we got our Ministry letters. He would make my presence out to be a nuisance, and it probably would be. But I didn't care. I knew that, deep down, he would rather me come to him than have to crawl back to me himself.

Remus's reaction was only one of many reasons that I hesitated to return to Hogwarts. I hadn't been there since the final battle of the war, and the idea of going back to a place that held so many memories, and so many endings, was intimidating. But I couldn't turn my back on it forever.

I decided that I would go as soon as the dishes were dried, and Molly nodded her approval. "As long as you send an owl when you get there."

I promised I would.

I didn't know how long I would stay at Hogwarts, and so I packed an old carpet bag with my warmest clothes for the highland weather. I recognised my body's eagerness to go on any sort of mission. They had taken a toll, the months of complete inactivity after being constantly at the ready during the war. I had to admit that, despite the reason for my journey, I was excited to take it.

"Are there any fireplaces connected to the Floo in Hogsmeade?" I asked Arthur.

"Not sure," he said. "Maybe, maybe not. I wouldn't risk it, not worth the headache if you hit a dead end."

He summoned a map (I swallowed my jealousy towards his smoothly working magic) and suggested that I split the journey into three apparations. I knew he was right–not a good idea to try to apparate the length of Britain in one go. The first stop would be Northwich, the second Thornhill, and the third would bring me to the school.

I bid everybody goodbye, and promised Molly again that I would send an owl. Then I stepped outside into the cold air, and made the first apparition.

I landed with a gasp on my bum in a back alley in Northwich. A cat who'd been perched on the bins was my only witness, and scampered away with a frightened yowl. I stood and brushed myself off, and found my way onto the street. Nobody was about, it was still too early, and I guessed it was a weekend. I walked out of the village and into the nearby woods. It was always a good idea to get one's limbs moving between long-distance apparitions. Once I was well hidden by the trees and sure that no-one was around, I stretched a little, and then with a crack went onward.

The second time was more difficult, and in the few seconds of limbo I felt the straining of my body more deeply. It was unpleasant, but I still made it safely.

It was snowing in Thornhill. I landed just outside of the village on a gravel road, with a view of fields divided by low stone walls, layering on the hills, interrupted by pine trees. I walked a little way down the road, taking in the frigid air, and then summoned my magic one more time for the apparation to Hogwarts.

I landed with wobbly bones in the middle of the viaduct bridge. The partly ruined castle loomed gigantically before me, and the deep chasm between mountains fell below me on either side of the bridge. I looked behind me towards the Black Lake and the Forbidden Forest, then quickly looked away, suppressing a shiver. I had to sit for a minute, feeling light-headed and nauseous. The wind was cold and high, and it was snowing lightly. I took long, deep breaths of the clean air, and took it easy on myself as I walked slowly across the bridge and into the castle courtyard.

It was eerie, the silence. There were no students–school was not in session that year–and I knew that only a small number of witches and wizards were currently residing at the castle, slowly working to restore it. The wind whistled in high places. It was so very quiet. The giant clock above wasn't running. I crossed the courtyard and walked through the tall heavy doors into the entryway.

The first person I saw was Professor Trelawney. She was dressed in blue woollen robes, and was casting silent pink spells towards the stalled clock from below, but seemed to be having no success. Her mouth opened when she saw me, her eyes bulging behind her thick glasses. "Miss Weasley!" she said, in her airy voice. "Something very strange has happened to you!"

No shit, I thought to myself. I had shared Hermione's opinion of Professor Trelawney as a student, but seeing her now made me smile. Still, I was careful to respond so that she wouldn't sense an invitation to expound upon her statement, knowing that she would stand there talking all day, and I wouldn't be able to find it in myself to stop her.

"Professor, would you tell me where the hospital wing is?"

"Where it's always been," she said. "It was the first place we fixed up, after the great hall."

I thanked her, and moved on my way. She gasped suddenly, her hand reaching out towards me, as though sensing some vibration in the air. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth nervous. "But be careful on the stairs!" she whispered.

"I will, Professor."

I walked through the castle, constantly expecting to encounter someone else, but I was very much alone. I found my way to the hospital tower and studied the stone stairs carefully before climbing them, not sure how sincere Trelawney's warning had been. I soon found that it was only because the windows remained broken, and the stairs were a bit icy from rain that had blown in and frozen. I held fast to the stone bannister as I ascended.

Outside the door of the hospital wing, the reason for my visit resurfaced in my mind. I was afraid of how Remus would be. Would he be more bitter than he'd been before the moon? Would he resent me for coming? Would he be hurt?

I knocked three times on the door, not feeling that I had the right to enter on my own. From the other side I heard confident footsteps, and then Madam Pomfrey opened the door, in her usual uniform, an expectant look on her face.

When she saw me her expression changed, and I saw at once that she had heard about my marriage to Remus. I imagined that many people had probably heard about it, and something in me angered at the thought of people pitying me for the match. There was nothing wrong with Remus. Not in my eyes. I was surely better off than many witches.

"Wilma!" she said. "Come in, come in."

"How are you, Madam Pomfrey?" I said, warily stepping through the door.

"Oh, please call me Poppy. You've grown, we're past those things now. I'm well, thank you."

The wing was fully restored. There were minor differences, but on the whole it looked just as it had done in my school days. Warm nostalgia filled me at the sight. But I couldn't help going a bit cold as I noticed the single bed in use, at the far end of the wing, the curtains drawn around it. Poppy glanced at me a certain way, and I knew at once that its occupant was Remus.

"How did you reach the castle?" Poppy said. I guessed, from the way she spoke at a normal volume, that he was in a deep sleep.

"Apparated," I said.

"From where?"

"Ottery St. Catchpole."

She turned with an astonished look on her face. "Apparated? All the way from Devon?" I nodded. "Sit down at once!"

I allowed her to hand me a glass of water, a vial containing a clear potion, and two squares of chocolate. "Take the potion first," she said, "it'll restore your strength."

I did as she said, and felt better at once. I hadn't even realised how heavy a toll the apparations had taken. My gaze was inexorably drawn to the curtained bed.

"Is he alright?" I asked, unable to keep the question at bay any longer.

"I gave him something so he'd sleep. He had a bit of a violent one," she warned me. "He's got to take his potion."

"What potion?"

"Wolfsbane. Makes it easier. He keeps his own mind."

I stood up, and Poppy looked at me to make sure I was certain before she pulled the curtain open.

My hand went to my mouth.

Poppy looked at me soberly, and then continued to dress the new wounds on his shoulder. White sheets covered the rest of his body, and I was certain that they hid other claw-marks. "What happened?" I asked urgently. Had he been attacked? I thought that Severus had said it was safe.

"When he doesn't have the wolfsbane he gets agitated, and he hurts himself."

"Why?"

"Not on purpose. It's the werewolf, not him."

I didn't pretend to understand, just sat down on the bed beside Remus's, watching as Poppy expertly dressed his wounds. She gently lifted the sheet from his left leg, and I saw that my assumptions had been right–clean white bandages covered his ankle and his thigh.

"Can I help? At all?"

Poppy looked at me with warmth in her eyes. "It's not that bad, dear. He had far worse when he was a student. You don't have to stay here if it's upsetting. I'll be with him until he wakes up."

"How long will that be?"

She shrugged her shoulders.

"Alright," I said. "I'll go." I didn't want to distract Poppy from her work, and knew that Remus wouldn't want me to be there when he woke up. I looked down at him once more, unable to keep from imagining the pain. He looked diminished and weak, but his chest rose and fell steadily as he slept.

I realised that a tear had slipped down my cheek. He didn't deserve this.

"There there," Poppy said. "He's in the right hands."

"Thank you… for taking care of him."

"It's my job, dear. Don't forget to eat that chocolate."

I spent the next hour roaming the castle. It felt deserted. I thought about going back to the clock tower to see if Trelawney was still there, but I wasn't quite that desperate. There were a few parts of the school destroyed in the battle which had been completely restored, but much of the building was still in ruins. The entire top of Gryffindor Tower was gone.

I was at first surprised by how slowly the process was going. But what with the castle being so old and set in its ways, I imagined that the stones themselves were in shock after the battle, and had not been easily moved.

Looking at the mystery of the pale daytime moon in the sky, I remembered that Molly had asked me to send an owl. I knew that the owlery would be gone. A random burst of inspiration led me down the hill to Hagrid's hut. A strong trail of smoke was rising from the chimney.

I knocked on the door and heard him talking to himself as he walked to answer it. When I saw him, joy filled my heart. "Wilma?" he said, in his jolly old voice. "Wilma Weasley?"

I grinned.

"Or is it Lupin now? Don't you worry, I know not everybody feels the same, but I'd trust Remus Lupin with anything. Doesn't matter to me he's a werewolf."

I winced slightly at the word. Its violent associations stood at stark odds with the man I had seen in the hospital bed earlier. But I was filled with warmth by what Hagrid had said.

I stepped inside to find that Hagrid had not been talking to himself at all, but to his latest magical creature. A giant Kneazle which came up to my knee, with yellow fur and bright green eyes. His name was Pouncer, but he was "harmless." I kept my distance. "Pouncer" was not a very promising name, and I knew that Hagrid's judgement of animals was not always to be trusted. But Pouncer didn't seem to mind me very much, staring at me harshly for a few seconds before looking away, uninterested.

Hagrid closed the door around and at once I smelled the stew he'd been cooking over the fire. My stomach growled audibly, and he served me some in a wooden bowl. It was hearty, and filled me right up.

A small white owl hooted from the corner. "Hagrid," I asked, "could I use your owl to send Mrs. Weasley a letter? I promised her I would."

"Of course," he said, and provided me at once with parchment and a quill. "Jude's an awkward little owl, but he'll make the journey in no time."

I penned the letter–

Dear Molly,

I made it safely. Sorry for the delay. Remus is alright, but sleeping. I don't know how long I'll stay. Will write again.

Love,

Wilma

–and tied it to the little bird's leg. I doubted it would fly as fast as Hagrid promised, but was proven wrong when I unlatched the window to the cold air and, with a chirp, the owl zoomed off into the sky.

I thanked Hagrid, and after trying unsuccessfully to get Pouncer to perform a certain trick, he sent me on my way with a handkerchief full of shortbread, promising to see me at dinner.

It was by accident that I stumbled upon the library. Miraculously, it had survived mostly undamaged. I'd loved studying here while at school–I would have spent most of my time reading, if Fred hadn't forced me into a bit of healthy mischief. It was surprisingly unguarded and empty, and after nosing around a bit I decided to do some reading on Remus's condition, and how I could support him. I roamed the stacks taking down every book I could find on magical creatures until I could hold no more, and carried them all to a desk in a hidden corner of the library. Grey afternoon light fell through the mullioned window, and I watched the snow before starting in on the first book.

I quickly detected a problem with most of the books. Full of frightening illustrations and judgemental language, few of them were purely factual, without bias. I had to remind myself as I read that any fear I felt was probably intended by the authors. There were chapters on mating habits, on physical traits and how to heal bites, on packs of werewolves in sixteenth century Germany who had ravaged entire villages, on werewolves who hunted young women. I found myself cringing from empathetic pain as I read a description of the transformation process, how each vertebrae lengthened, how the skin stretched. Most of the books were obviously outdated, but some presented harmful points of views in a reasonable tone. As the stack of books I'd read grew taller, I became more and more upset. There was one book called Lupine Lawlessness: Why Lycanthropes Don't Deserve to Live, and on seeing the title a gasp of disgust came out of me unbidden. I imagined a younger Remus reading the same books when he was a student, and clenched my jaw in anger. Most of these books should be removed from the library.

I was holding my head in frustration over a transcript of a nineteenth century debate on the execution of werewolves, when I heard the door slam shut, and footsteps approaching. The sound startled me out of my wits, after so long without seeing anybody walking around the castle. I stood up from my chair and pressed my hand to my throat in inexplicable fear. The gory descriptions in the books had gotten to me more than I wanted to admit. My heart was pounding, and I had the ridiculous urge to hide under the table. Thank Merlin I didn't, because a moment later the owner of the footsteps appeared, and it was Severus.

I exhaled in relief. "I'm sorry," I said. "I thought– I don't know what I thought."

He was back in his full black robes, and his cloak fluttered as it settled into stillness. I felt my face flush as his eyes wandered to the tower of books on the desk, one eyebrow raised.

"I can recommend a few superior titles to you, if you would like," he said, as he deduced what I was doing. "Most of those are guilty of scare tactics."

I remembered how, when substituting for Remus's Defense Against the Dark Arts class in my fourth year, Severus had taught a random lesson on werewolves. He hadn't had any qualms using texts with outdated and prejudiced information then. But I decided not to judge him by his past actions. I was only grateful that he had changed.

"I would appreciate that," I told him.

"I will request copies from the Ministry."

There was a tense pause as we stood still, looking at each other. I felt like there was a wave of things to thank him for. The potion he'd given me, how he'd invited Remus to come to Hogwarts for a safe place to transform… I was rendered speechless by my gratitude.

"Dinner is at eight in the Great Hall," he said, and then turned back into the stacks to find what he'd come for. There was a minute of awkward silence as he searched the shelves for his book, and then he left the library and I was alone again.

I kept reading until I noticed that the sun had gone down. A screaming wind tossed the snow around outside the window, and the library had turned cold. I returned all of the books to their proper places on the shelves, and chewed on my frustration with their contents as I walked downstairs to the Great Hall.

There were not many people staying at the castle, but what few they were they produced the warm sound of people gathered together.

Hagrid was there, Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick, McGonagall and Trelawney, and of course Severus. Then there was Seamus Finnigan, Neville and Luna, and Astoria Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson, who eyed me from the Slytherin table as I walked in. Poppy Pomfrey was there, sitting with McGonagall and Trelawney, but Remus must have still been in the hospital wing.

A small but strong group. From overhearing their conversations I learned that most of them had been out on missions around the castle and the surrounding areas. Which explained the deserted atmosphere within the castle. McGonagall waved me over, and I sat with her, Poppy, and Trelawney as I ate.

The meal was filling, and reminded me of the nightly feasts in my school days. I deliberately ignored looking towards the Gryffindor table, where Fred and I had always sat together. Everyone seemed exhausted from their day of magical work, and after the meal departed for bed. McGonagall promised that we would discuss more about the mysterious ghost-like beings which had appeared to Remus and me tomorrow.

"I'm going up to check on him," Poppy told me, standing up from the bench. "You can have a bed in the ward for as long as you stay."

I thanked her–I had worried for a moment about where I would sleep.

I steeled myself as we walked into the hospital wing, but Remus was still fast asleep. It was dark in the room, there was only one lamp turned on and the windows were almost black with snow and wind. I was very tired after the difficult apparations, and the strain of reading for too long by insufficient light. Poppy gave me two extra blankets from her office and I chose a bed that was a fair distance from Remus's.

That night was the first in a long time that I fell asleep instantly, and had no dreams.

He was still asleep the next morning. "Is this normal?" I asked Poppy.

She nodded. "It would take him half a day when he was sixteen. But it takes its toll. Harder to bounce back now he's older, I suspect."

It wasn't until past noon that I saw him awake again. I had gone back down to the library to continue my reading, and was taking a walk to stretch my legs when I rounded the corner and saw him leaning against a wall, watching the snow through the windows. When he saw me he stepped forward.

"You shouldn't have come," he said.

I had known he would say that, and decided to ignore it. "How are you feeling?" I asked.

"Hunky-dory," he said, stepping towards me. But his body looked painful, and I saw in his eyes that it hurt him to move.

"Remus, you can barely walk." For whatever reason, tears filled my eyes.

He had an aching look on his face. He was the polar opposite of how he had been before he left the Burrow. Then he'd been burning with tense energy and anger, but now he seemed weak and exhausted, and full of pain. I was overwhelmed by an instinct to take care of him.

"Please, Wilma, no pity. I can take almost anything but that."

"Poppy said there's a potion–"

"Yes, yes. She gave me a talking-to."

"Why didn't you take it?"

"Too much of a bother. Have to take daily doses for a week, and Severus is the only person I know who can make it."

"But…" I said, thinking of the scars I'd seen in the hospital wing.

"Doesn't hurt too badly," he said. But I could tell from the way he walked that it did. The fact that he let me help him, let himself lean on me a little, confirmed that the transformation had been more difficult than he would admit. I imagined Hermione scoffing–a woman should never offer herself as a crutch to a man–but I honestly didn't care. Remus had suffered, and I was going to help however he allowed me to.

"Where were you on your way to?" I asked.

"I think we should apparate back as soon as possible."

"I don't think you should apparate right now."

I was surprised again that he didn't lash out at me. He was deeply non-confrontational, and I guessed that it had to do with the moon. "Alright," he said. "In that case, perhaps I should sit…"

We found a stone bench in one of the warmer corridors, which didn't have any broken windows or walls to let the snow in. I was anxious that maybe he wanted to be alone, but let my mind ease, so that he wouldn't sense the traffic of my thoughts. In time he relaxed, seeming actually glad to have my silent company.

It was there that McGonagall found us a few minutes later. "There you two are," she said, and sat down straightaway to question us about the strange ghosts.

"Not ghosts," Remus said, very particular on that point.

We reiterated our experience to her, and she listened, writing down certain details. Afterward, she asked us how long we would stay. They could sorely use more skilled witches and wizards to handle the more difficult magical objects that had lingered in the ruins of the castle and on the grounds, boggarts and so on.

Remus seemed reluctant, but up against Minerva McGonagall, not even he could disagree. I suspected that Poppy had also said something to him earlier, because he promised to stay until he was fully recovered, for about a week.

I disclosed to Minerva that my magic had not been working. She assured me that I would find plenty of other useful tasks to do that didn't involve magic. "But perhaps having something to direct it towards, for which it is truly needed, will help to bring it back again."

I hoped she was right.

Flitwick gave us the password to the Ravenclaw Tower, and we spent the night in a room with a working loo and five four-poster beds with dark blue curtains.

I bathed, and emerged to find Remus changing into his pinstripe pyjamas. He'd kept his undershirt and boxers on, but I could still see the majority of the damage his body had acquired. "Remus!" I said, without knowing it. "Please take that potion next time, for Merlin's sake." I put my hands over my face, embarrassed that I'd walked in on him, and at my outburst. But he merely grumbled something indistinct.

I climbed into the bed near the window, and stared at the ceiling as he buttoned his shirt. I let my curiosity lead me.

"Remus? How many times have you… How many moons have…"

"I don't know. Lost count. Not something I care to keep track of, really."

There was a pause in the dark.

"Hundreds, though," he said.

He took a potion before he went to sleep, probably to numb the pain. He took it turned away from me, and probably thought I didn't see, but I did. Then he eased himself into bed, and with a quiet "Good night," pulled the curtains around.

It was strange sleeping in the Ravenclaw Tower, but comforting to be back in the castle, even though it was so empty, so changed. Tomorrow would be good–the first time in a while that I'd put myself to real use in the world. I hoped, before I drifted off, that Remus's sleep would be warm and painless.