He tried to only glance briefly towards the patient. He had always found the scene unsettling. She was locked in a magically-induced coma that slowed her time to a near stand-still. Her mouth was starting to pull into a grimace that stretched the fresh claw marks on her neck. The claw marks were full of a silvery substance that contrasted sharply with her dark brown skin. It made the marks glint maliciously like sharp knifes.
He turned away from their accusatory points. It had been a mercy that Harry had vetted the werewolf pack quickly enough that Teddy only spent his first five changes here. He crossed the room to where his cage had been. One of it's corners had pressed up against the window. A window he had stared out of almost any time he had been lucid enough to understand his surroundings. He still remembered the heavy moon that had dominated the sky and his nights here.
Teddy stepped closer to that window and gazed down. Below him was the traffic of people, buses, and cars that was London. Just a normal Sunday. It seemed cruel that there hadn't been a hitch in this bustle of life, not even in the Wizarding world, when Lilith had died.
None of the people close to Teddy seemed to care either; even though his world had frozen around Lilith's death. Sure, they didn't have a reason to care. That didn't stop it from rubbing him the wrong way. He pressed his forehead against the glass and heaved a huge sigh. He was abruptly struck by the image of Lilith's blackened skin and a second image of the awkward angle her head had fallen in death.
He jolted away from the glass. He blinked violently, trying to get the after-image to go away. He had been getting flashes ever since the night he had seen Lilith's dead body. Sometimes they would hit him out of no where, just like it seemed to have done this time. However, he had also been getting flashes of his time here. So there was a chance that this time the memories meant something.
He glanced warily around. Nothing had changed since his last visit. The only thing of any note in this room was the bed and the patient on it. Reluctantly, he crossed the room to exam her more closely.
The patient had been helping Harry with the Moonlight Killer case when she had been attacked. She had port-keyed into the hospital in rough shape. The healers had done everything they could to treat the wounds but, after a few days, it was clear she was dying. As a last effort, she was placed in a magical coma until they figured out how to heal her. Only, they never did.
Teddy cynically wondered if they would have put in the effort to keep her in the coma if she had been anybody else but best friend to Harry Potter and one-third of the Golden Trio.
Had the killer planned to do the same thing to Hermione that he had done to Lilith? How had Hermione managed to survive? Why hadn't Lilith? What if Hermione had been able to describe her attacker before she was too far under? Lilith might have been still alive.
"Who was your attacker?" he asked. "What could you tell me if you were awake?"
He sighed again and the same visions of Lilith's dead body pricked his mind. He pricked his senses, trying to identify the connection. Hermione didn't really look like Lilith. Hermione's skin was much darker, almost black, and her hair was in a protective coil of braids that didn't look much like Lilith's loose waves. They were both pretty, but he didn't see anything in Hermione's face that might have reminded him of Lilith's, on a conscious or unconscious level. He leaned in to smell her, to try to see if there was a similarity in their scents beneath all the hospital and potion stench on her.
After one purposeful scenting, Teddt understood the connection. Hermione's smell was more complex, but under it all was the same nauseating combination of scents that had been on Lilith's body. It wasn't Hermione's base scent that was familiar, but the potions or magic that had been layered on top of it.
Teddy moved closer, looking over Hermione's body more closely than he had ever been inclined to. Hermione's wounds were larger than he had previously thought. There was a set of slashes that started at her throat and then dragged down her left neck to her breastbone. Like maybe something had gone to rip out her throat but she had turned away from the claws.
Her wounds were not as dark as Lilith's had been. They were still dark on the edges, though, which made the wounds looks smaller than they were. The silver substance had pooled into the deepest parts of the gashes and at her collarbone. The silver potion was probably something the hospital had put on her, so it probably wasn't the scent that was both Lilith and Hermione.
If he had to describe the scent, it would be burning and rust. It didn't seem like something that the hospital would use. Surely they would have neutralized any potion she had in her system? Maybe the smell had just ingrained itself into her hospital gown. Or the smell hadn't been neutralized when the potion had been?
Still, it was something worth looking into. Had they found anything when they compared the potion and magic screens from Lilith and Hermione? Could they use the similarities as a lead?
He glanced back at the patient's face, still frozen in a grimace. Maybe Hermione could help them catch the Moonlight Killer after all.
He wasn't sure why he felt a sudden kinship with her, maybe he was just really lonely these days. Still, he didn't stop himself when he had the urge to reach out and squeeze her hand in gratitude.
"Thanks, Hermione," he said awkwardly, just in case she could somehow hear or sense him.