Remus took a nap later that day, and he woke up in a cold sweat.

It wasn't a nightmare, so it took him a while to decide exactly why he felt so terrible. Perhaps he was suffering the residual of a nightmare that had gone unremembered?

No, it wasn't a nightmare. It was his leg, which was prickling persistently. All of the sudden, the prickling gave way to a massive, searing, stabbing pain; Remus couldn't help crying out and grasping fruitlessly at the glass of water on the bedside table, which accidentally fell to the ground at Remus' haste. "Madam Pomfrey!" he called, and Madam Pomfrey came rushing into the room.

"Yes? Are you ready for dinner?"

"No. I… I can't eat… I feel nauseous. I can't… I can't breathe…"

"Is it your lungs?"

"No, it's my… my leg, I can't… I need… something for the pain. Please. Just give me anything. I need something—anything—"

Madam Pomfrey patted his hand and gave him a sorrowful glance. "I'm sorry, Remus, but I can't give you anything."

"Give me the Pain-Relieving Potion. Please? I don't need—I know it doesn't mix well with the Blood-Replenishing Potion, but I don't really need that anyway—werewolves don't kill themselves on the full moon, remember? Instinct… and all that… I know I'll be okay."

"That's not a good idea," said Madam Pomfrey. "You wouldn't have bled out directly after the full moon, no, but I had to fix a few things so that you would heal within the month. I'm afraid your leg is injured a bit differently from how it was after you transformed back—it'll heal faster this way, but it is entirely likely that you will bleed to death if I stop giving you the potion."

Remus felt irrationally angry at Madam Pomfrey, even though he knew full well that she was the only reason that he had a chance of going back to school this month. "Okay," he said through gritted teeth. "Then… a Dreamless Sleep Potion, please?"

Sleeping Draughts didn't always do away with the pain, so Dreamless Sleep Potions were much better in that regard; the pain sometimes carried over to Remus' dreams otherwise. Remus was sometimes reluctant about asking for them—after all, they were far more expensive—but he would go mad if he didn't get rid of the pain somehow. It was too much today.

"No," said Madam Pomfrey. "I gave you that potion three hours ago. You can't have another one so soon after."

"A regular Sleeping Draught, then?"

"Same issue."

"But isn't there something? Anything?"

"A Calming Draught might soothe you…."

"No." Remus did not take mind-altering potions. He would do many things to get rid of the pain, but not that. Never that. "I… oh, can you just Stun me? Knock me unconscious… for a bit? Just a bit. I need a break."

"I am not going to Stun my patient!" cried a horrified Madam Pomfrey. "Perish the thought! Remus, please just try to breathe. The pain will come and go, just as it always does. Do you need a distraction?"

"I don't… I need…." Remus was clutching his pink knit blanket to his chest so violently that he thought his fingers might break. "Yeah. Put on a record for me? Alexander Adamson. Please."

"I have some records of my own, you know. You needn't listen to those awful speeches."

"I want to." And he did. It was oddly comforting to listen to werewolf transformations described in great detail—it reminded Remus that there was worse pain, that he had been through far worse and survived it, and that there were others going through the same thing he did. If they could do it, why couldn't he?

Madam Pomfrey reluctantly put on a record and Soundproofed the door so that students in the main ward would not hear it, and Remus listened very closely to all the grisly ways that werewolves could be killed on the full moon. It was difficult to hear through his ragged breathing, but it distracted him while the pain slowly ebbed away, finally reaching a bearable level. Madam Pomfrey shut it off in about an hour ("I can't listen to that anymore," she'd said), but it was okay—Remus was already nearly asleep at that point.

He wondered where his friends were.

They didn't come on the next day, either.

Or the next.

Professor Flitwick came, though, which was odd. Professor Flitwick was one of Remus' favorite teachers, but he had never visited Remus on the full moon. In fact, Professor Questus and Professor McGonagall were the only teachers who had ever done so.

"Good afternoon," squeaked Flitwick. He hopped up onto a chair, and Remus was jealous of Flitwick's agility in spite of himself. He couldn't hop like that with a wonky leg, and he would give anything right now to move with such painless ease. Even lifting a glass of water to his mouth hurt at this point.

Remus was always very self-conscious when a new person saw him after a full moon, especially today—the bleeding in his leg had slowed considerably, but he was aware that he was still pale and scratched up, especially on his arms. "Afternoon," he mumbled. He didn't have the heart to say the "good" part.

Flitwick, fortunately, didn't look fazed whatsoever by Remus' dreadful appearance. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Kind of awful," Remus replied, "but I'll be out in less than a week."

"Don't count on it," called Madam Pomfrey from the other room. The Soundproofing Charm was no longer on the door, apparently.

Remus sighed and willed himself not to cry. "I'll be back to normal eventually," he amended.

"I'm sorry," said Flitwick. "I wish you a swift recovery."

Remus nodded and swallowed hard. "My friends have been in class, right?" he asked. "They haven't visited me yet. They usually eat meals in here with me when they can."

"Hm," said Flitwick. "They've been busy, I think. Would you like me to talk to them?"

"No. They're not expected. I was just wondering." Remus wiped his cheeks, but they were blessedly dry. "Is there a reason you've come to see me, Professor?"

"Oh, yes," said Flitwick. "Professor Dilley and I have been talking, and we're going to start up Duelling Club next month or so. Sign-ups are already posted and available. I wanted to know if you'd like me to sign you up."

"Haven't my friends signed me up already?" asked Remus. "They know that I want to join."

"No, they haven't. Perhaps they just wanted to confirm with you?"

Then they should have some to see me, Remus thought bitterly. Then he realized that he was being entirely selfish. It was only about a year ago that he hadn't wanted his friends to visit him at all. He needed to give them a little more credit for what they had already done. "Perhaps," he allowed. "I would very much like you to sign me up, yes."

Flitwick smiled. "That's what I suspected. I'm guessing that you'll have a bit of an advantage, having trained under John Questus."

"Trained?" Remus scoffed. "That's a bit of an exaggeration. I was always Disarmed within five minutes, and I was in first year."

"Still. I'm sure you already knew this, but he was inordinately talented." Flitwick leaned back a bit in his chair. "I was a duelling champ, you know. Participated in a few competitions and all that. Made the national youth team as a child. I like to say I'm rather good... but John Questus could always beat me."

"He could?"

"Oh, yes. He could beat nearly everybody. He was undefeated when he participated in the Hogwarts duelling club all through his fifth, sixth, and seventh years. He practiced all hours of the day, it seemed. This is just what I'm told, of course—I didn't enter Hogwarts until after he left—but I once visited the Auror department in the Ministry after I became champion. Duelling champs do that every so often to keep their skills sharp. No one could beat me except him, and he did so six times in a row." Flitwick smiled ruefully. "My worst moment, I'd say—and he held it over my head the whole year when he taught here."

"That sounds like something he would do," mumbled Remus.

Flitwick looked up, suddenly aware. "Oh! I didn't mean to talk your ear off. I'm sorry if you didn't want to talk about him…."

"No, it's fine. I don't mind."

"You're not the only one who misses him, you know, although I'm sure it seems otherwise. He wasn't close to many people, that man, but he had good qualities."

"Right."

"I tried to start a duelling club with him, you know, two years ago, for the upper years—but no one liked him enough to join. Sad, if you ask me. Lots of talent there."

Professor Questus would have disagreed, Remus thought. Hadn't he told Remus over and over again that it was not talent; rather, it was stubbornness and hard work? But Remus didn't tell Flitwick that.

"Well, if you don't have any questions, I'll be going," said Flitwick, smiling rather sadly. "You're doing fantastically in my class, by the way—you're certainly shaping up to be a very good wizard indeed. I look forward to seeing you in Duelling Club." Flitwick bounced off the chair, and Remus bade him goodbye.

Then he took a nap. He was exhausted.

The days passed slowly, and Remus' friends still didn't visit.

"They've been in the library a lot," explained Madam Pomfrey, "and James Potter still wears that ridiculous outfit every time. Large hat, dark sunglasses, bright clothing. Do you know why he's doing that?"

"It's his Library Disguise. He doesn't want anyone to see him in the library. Says it's embarrassing."

"Well, that's preposterous. This is a school."

"He doesn't want anyone to know that he revises before tests, either. He'd kill me if he knew that I just told you."

"My lips are sealed," said Madam Pomfrey, "although that is quite the odd request. I assume you don't have the same inhibitions? You've been studying something or other every second that you're not sleeping or listening to those horrible records."

"Well, I'm missing a lot of class. I read ahead nine chapters in Ancient Runes—I hope that's enough. And I also have to plan my Arithmancy project."

"Oh, that. I still don't like the idea of that project."

"Professor Dumbledore does."

"Professor Dumbledore thinks very highly of you."

"And you don't?"

"I only want to protect you."

"I'm not fragile."

Madam Pomfrey patted his hand. "I know."

She clearly didn't believe him, but Remus ignored the fact. "Would you test me on my runes, please? I think I'm missing a quiz, and I'll have to retake it later."

Madam Pomfrey tested him for the next hour and a half. Remus was getting very good at Ancient Runes, he thought, even though the constant pain in his leg was rather distracting.

Professor Kettleburn came by a little bit later, which was very unexpected indeed. Remus wasn't sure he liked visitors that weren't his friends. He was feeling very vulnerable and exposed at the moment—it wasn't as if he woke up and brushed his teeth and combed his hair every morning. He was still wearing his pajamas, and he was sure that they were very rumpled. He didn't usually care about being presentable; it was only Madam Pomfrey, after all… until it wasn't.

"Salutations!" said Kettleburn, and Remus tried in vain to smooth down his mussed hair that hadn't been combed in days. "I must say, Lupin, Francine is looking very healthy!"

Remus glanced at Francine, who was cuddled on his lap next to Bufo. "She's getting on with Bufo really well," said Remus, "and she's also been getting on with me, surprisingly."

"Yes, I noticed that last time you attended my class! Very well done."

"It wasn't really my doing."

"Nonsense. Convincing a creature to like you takes a lot of empathy and talent, especially one as stubborn as Francine."

"She seems to be perfectly comfortable around me now. Keeps scuttling all over my bedsheets, eating out of my hand, and she even sleeps on my chest sometimes. I'm always afraid of squishing her, so sometimes I put her on the table next to my bed—but she hasn't tried to run off yet, so that's good—even when I accidentally doused her with water when I was practicing for Transfiguration."

Kettleburn laughed at that. "May I ask what you were trying to transfigure?"

"Er… I was working on Beetle to Button."

"I wasn't aware that water was involved in that transfiguration."

"Its… it's not. I'm just not that good at transfiguring things. It was an accident."

Kettleburn seemed to think that was very funny. After he had stopped laughing, he straightened up and clapped his hands once. "Okay! This is good. Now that Francine likes you, we know what the problem is."

Remus blinked. "The problem is that I am a werewolf."

Kettleburn laughed again. "You're funny. Yes, that is indeed a problem—but now we know that animals have the capability to like you. It is their first instinct to distrust you, but you can prove them wrong."

"But… but that knowledge won't help, sir! It took me weeks to get Francine to like me. I can't possibly train every animal to stay calm around me before class!"

"No, but now I know how to arrange your final exam. And now we know that you could possibly get a career in magical creatures..."

Remus didn't think that he had a chance of getting a career in anything, really, but he didn't say so.

"…and we can see if Francine communicates to the other Bowtruckles that you're safe. That'll be interesting, won't it? I gave you a Bowtruckle, Lupin, because Bowtruckles are very good at communication with all sorts of magical creatures. Now that we know that an animal's first instinct is overruled when they know that you're safe, I could simply position Francine around most sorts of magical creatures. She might communicate that you're safe, therefore eliminating any initial distrust… but I don't want to get your hopes up. Bowtruckles have the ability to communicate, yes, but they're also very shy. Still, it was worth a try!"

"Sure," said Remus, suddenly hopeful. "Do you need to take her back now?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, I know it must be very hard to say goodbye."

"It's not," promised Remus. "Believe me. She likes me now, but it's very hard to keep her out of the way when Madam Pomfrey is trying to heal me, and sometimes I'm sleeping and Madam Pomfrey has to feed her for me. Madam Pomfrey's gotten used to helping with Bufo, but she's not generally a fan of small animals in the Hospital Wing."

"I see," chuckled Kettleburn. "Well, I'll bring her back to her colony now." He plucked Francine off of Remus' arm—to Remus' great surprise, she tried to hold on to his pajama sleeve with her spindly arms and squeaked slightly when she was torn away.

"Bye," said Remus.

Francine squeaked again.

As soon as she and Kettleburn were gone, Remus looked down at Bufo, who looked very sad to be deprived of his new friend. Remus decided that he actually did miss Francine a little bit, a thought that shocked him immensely. "Looks like it's just you and me, Bufo," he said, and Bufo croaked.

Remus put in another Adamson record to cheer up both himself and Bufo. It did not cheer up Madam Pomfrey, but Remus didn't really care. He was the one with the demolished leg, so he was going to be the one to pick the record.

Madam Pomfrey didn't like this logic ("it's my Hospital Wing, after all"), but she didn't argue much.

More days passed.

Remus' leg was slowly healing. Eventually, he was feeling well enough to take a proper bath instead of Scourgifying himself. Madam Pomfrey filled the tub with warm water (but not too warm, for hot water seemed to sting Remus' wounds a lot worse), and left to attend to students in the main ward while Remus tried to work up the courage to get in the water.

Baths were very nice directly after a full moon, but it hurt so much to get inside and let the water run over his wounds that he sometimes chickened out and went back to bed. Sometimes he just splashed a bit of water over his head and hands so that he felt fresh instead of submerging himself in the water, and then he'd let the drain run. The slurping noise always made him feel energized, for some reason.

Madam Pomfrey never minded when Remus didn't have the courage to get inside the tub. Remus couldn't do that at home—his parents didn't have a lot of money and had a Muggle water system, so wasting water was not an option. School was a luxury like that.

Remus slowly unbandaged his leg (which still hurt immensely, but at least it was bearable), and took a deep breath before lowering himself into the water.

It hurt.

After a while, though, the pain ebbed away and Remus could breathe again. He lay there for a few moments, under the water, relishing the feeling of water on his battered skin, before soaping up and washing his hair to the best of his ability. "All right in there?" called Madam Pomfrey through the door.

"Fine," replied Remus. He realized too late that the offending word had earned him another couple of minutes in the Hospital Wing, thanks to the stupid "fine" jar that Madam Pomfrey had implemented two years prior. She didn't like it when Remus said that word.

No matter; it was only an extra couple of minutes. Probably worth it. Remus stayed in the tub until the water had cooled to the point that he was shivering. He slipped back on his newly-Scourgified pajama trousers, but he put on a collared shirt and a jumper instead. Madam Pomfrey had already fixed his upper body a long time ago, and it made him feel fresh to be wearing something other than pajamas.

He crawled back into his bed, leg stinging, and put in another record. Madam Pomfrey sighed loudly, but Remus let Adamson's oddly calming voice lull him to sleep.

Madam Pomfrey had shut it off by the time that Remus woke up, but he didn't mind. It was her Hospital Wing, after all.

AN: The word "immensely" is used twice in this chapter, and I mixed up the second e and the s while typing it both times (and again while typing this AN). Folks, I have found my Achilles' heel... that and "story", which I nearly always mistype as "sotry".