NOTE
Warning for a burial, mentions of death and torture, mentions of miscarriage, and anxiety.
Later in the chapter, a bit of well-earned fluff.
103. Requiem
George was buried two days later, the nineteenth of December.
I changed slowly into my darkest clothes, and made my way down the stairs, where Andromeda waited in the kitchen with tea. I stared out the window while we waited to leave. The garden was bathed in snow, and the gnarled oak tree. The tree swing hung motionless, its ropes white with frost, a small hump of snow on the wooden seat. The meadow and the hill were covered in snow, and the points of icicles dripped down from the window-eave.
Molly and Arthur finally emerged from their room, their eyes dull, their faces confused and pale against their black clothes. They had to be helped out the door like elderly people by Andromeda and Bill, who had arrived with Fleur that morning. Fleur had created a quiet haven in the sitting room, where Victoire and Teddy were playing together, and Phoebe was curled around a book on the sofa.
I watched my parents step out the door, standing there paralysed until Remus gently took my arm and we followed them.
It was a cold day. We must have looked like black birds making our way down the lane towards the village. The lane was bordered by snow-blanketed hedgerows and naked hawthorn trees, and there was only the sound of our footsteps, the quiet dripping of snow, the occasional chirp from the woods.
Being in the countryside was disorienting after my entrapment in London. But I far preferred the cool creeping wind, the grey sunlight bleeding through the sky over the fields, to the walls of Grimmauld place and the smoking chimneys outside the window.
The village was sleeping, and the stained glass windows of the small church were dark. As I walked through the small gate I remembered coming here to Fred's grave after Remus and I had signed our marriage papers. How George had come to bring me back home.
Now his body lay hidden in a black coffin.
The open grave was beside Fred's, and the headstones were identical but for the names and the dates of death.
Fred. George.
2 May 1998. 7 December 1999.
Angelina Johnson and Lee Jordan arrived together, a minute after we'd entered the graveyard. Lee stood next to Harry and Ron, but Angelina kept to herself a few steps away.
Percy did not come.
The minister of the church began a prayer, but my ears were deaf to all the words of the ceremony. I watched the man's breath cloud, watched his gloved hands holding his Bible, stared into the hole in the ground.
It was over quickly and the coffin was lowered with ropes. I couldn't stop shivering, and Remus wrapped his arm around my shoulders.
The dirt was poured back into the ground. I took a fistful after the others, and let it fall through my fingers, freezing cold, to hit the surface of the coffin. Bill and Harry used the shovels themselves, the soft hiss of earth the only sound.
It took a long, long time. But the minutes slipped away, disappearing into the past like snowflakes added to a blanket of snow on the ground.
The minister went inside and Ginny drew her wand, aiming it at the grave, where everlasting snowdrops grew out of the winter ground.
Then it was over and Remus gently guided me from the graveyard.
Andromeda offered to bring Angelina and Lee home for tea, but they both declined. They left as they had come, eyes glazed with disbelief.
Even after all the deaths of the war, it seemed unthinkable that someone our age could pass away.
Ron went directly to the broomshed when we returned to the Burrow. Harry followed after him.
The rest of us went back inside. Molly and Arthur stood looking around for a minute, as though they couldn't recognise their surroundings, before going back upstairs. Not a single sound came from them. Molly just sagged against Arthur, clutching onto his hand, her head resting on his arm. Their grasping onto each other couldn't have made the climb easy, but they wouldn't let go of each other. It seemed so cruel that they had been expected to leave their room to go to the graveyard. I felt protective over them, and angry for them, as though they were my children.
I stood and watched the painful ascent until their shoes disappeared from sight, and I heard the sound of their door closing.
Bill whispered something and went into the other room to see his wife and daughter. Ginny followed our parents upstairs. Andromeda began to make hot tea and Remus helped me to a chair, sitting beside me and holding my cold hand between his.
Steam was coming out of the kettle when Ron opened the kitchen door, face red from the crystal-cold air.
"Where's my bloody broomstick?" he asked, in a breaking voice.
"Ron," Harry said, appearing behind him.
It took my mind a moment to remember. "It's at Remus's cottage," I said hoarsely.
Ron's eyes snapped to mine, narrowing. "Why the Hell is it there?"
"I had to use it. I left it there."
"You had to use it?"
Inexplicable guilt pinched at my throat. I had endured so much, and now to have the slightest anger directed at me was unbearable.
Ron looked at Remus. "Can I go there?"
"Of course," Remus said quietly.
Ron turned and disappeared from the doorway, and soon there was the distinct pop of disapparation.
Harry stood there looking lost. "I'm going to follow him," he said.
Andromeda nodded and Harry closed the door, the faint sound of his own disapparation following a moment after.
I thought of flying. I could fly deep into the middle of a forest where no-one could hear me and scream, scream, scream. But I didn't know if I'd be strong enough to fly. If a broom would even agree to bear me now that my magic was gone. If I'd have the strength to scream.
My shoulders hunched inward and Remus rested his hand on my back, his fingers splayed between my shoulder blades.
I watched Andromeda as she made her way around the kitchen. It must have felt good to be alive again after being half-dead for so long.
The tea was finished and she carried two cups up the stairs.
Remus poured another two and carried them to the table, setting one in front of me. I wrapped my fingers around it, the heat crawling up my forearms, making the hairs raise.
Quiet footsteps punctured the silence and I turned to see Fleur, holding my old carpet bag. "I brought it for you, from Flanders," she said.
She carried it to the table and also held out a small velvet pouch in her palm. My stomach lurched–it was the pouch that held the ring Remus had given me. His mother's.
"Thank you," I whispered, taking the carpet bag onto my lap and placing the pouch on the table with uncertainty.
Fleur must have sensed the sudden tension, because she stepped away. "My grandmother sends her prayers to you," she said. Then she went back to the other room.
I put the carpetbag on the table and pretended the tiny drawstring pouch wasn't there.
Finally he said something.
"I'll hold onto it, if you'd like me to."
I nodded, and he slipped it into his pocket.
There was a painful thickness in the air around us. I glanced at him and he looked crestfallen. But when he noticed me looking he gave me a small, soft smile and rubbed my arm.
His eyebrows furrowed as he did so, and he looked down at my body. There was a reluctance in his eyes as he spoke. "You really need to eat."
He did too, but I didn't have the heart to say it.
"At least have a little of the tea, for the milk?"
A deep part of me wanted to appease him, just to ease the hardness in my chest. I had a sip or two, then held the mug against my chest, the steam touching my chin.
We didn't speak any more. He didn't touch my arm or my hand again, and I felt a tightness in my throat when I realised I wished he would.
After an hour or so, Bill and Fleur took Victoire home to their cottage by the sea.
Ginny had returned to the kitchen and she and Andromeda were silently making a pie.
Phoebe disappeared to whichever empty room she had been staying in. I thought about her all alone in bed with her book, silently suffering through her own trauma. I should have been able to say something to her, to lift her up, to tell her it was going to be okay. But I felt worthless, like another child in her presence, and was both relieved and ashamed that she didn't look at me as she passed.
Remus carried Teddy upstairs to tuck him in for an afternoon nap.
I slipped into the sitting room and sat on the rug, tending to the fire.
There was a basket of papers to be burned as kindling, and I picked up and leafed through the latest copies of the Prophet.
The first showed a photograph taken just after my trial, Severus's eyes glaring at the photographers as he pulled me into the fireplace. I looked so small against his chest as the flames engulfed us again and again. I read no further than the first few words. I had been there, and it didn't matter to me what other people read about it. There was another smaller article written by Rita Skeeter, offering the perspectives of Draco, Pansy and Astoria, who had been there that day. The photograph showed them just as I remembered them behind the barricade, Pansy's face full of tears. I didn't bother reading that one either. I didn't care to know.
The front page of the next paper was dominated by a photograph of Remus as he was escorted past the golden fountain after his own trial. His head was down, his shoulders stooped humbly. The headline was ORDER OF MERLIN RECIPIENT PARDONED, which made me feel a quiet surge of victory. Had Skeeter written it it would have been more along the lines of dangerous werewolf freed, but the author clearly took a more accurate stance on Remus and what had happened to him. I skimmed the article, seeing that Harry had been present at the trial. The presence of the Chosen One in the room had surely helped his case, and I was filled with gratitude towards Harry.
Another paper detailed people's reactions to the end of the conflict. Minerva had announced that students would return to Hogwarts after the winter holidays. The timing was considered to be 'perfect,' since the ordeal had been brought to an end 'just in time for Christmas.' But there was a bleakness underneath, and the optimism of the article felt almost offensive when, buried deeper in that day's edition, was an official list of casualties. I noticed Hieronymus Obel among the names. I remembered seeing him in my visions, kept in a hole in the ground while Rowle and Macnair tortured him. He must have been left there to starve. I had hardly known the man, but seeing his name felt painful nonetheless.
Protests against the Marriage Law had apparently been going on at the Ministry for longer than I'd realised. I'd never considered that the statute of secrecy made it difficult–if not impossible–to protest out in the open as Muggles did. But at least it was being allowed within the walls of the Ministry. Again I hoped there might be some change… But the sight of the stretched faces of shouting witches made my stomach burn and I set the paper face-down to hide the image.
I glanced at articles reviewing the trials of the fugitives. The Carrows, who had been caught early on, had been returned to Azkaban without trial. The same went for Rodolphus Lestrange, who had been found in Russia a day after I'd gone to Grimmauld Place. Rookwood had been sent back, too. The outcome of Baddock's trial left him under indefinite house arrest, so he might continue to care for his sons.
Another edition centred around the people who had woken from comas in St Mungo's. There was an official order from the Ministry that, if any of the corpses of the creatures were found, they were to be delivered to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.
I came to the last newspaper in the pile and the face of Draco Malfoy stared out at me yet again, only this time he was standing in front of a mausoleum. LUCIUS MALFOY, PHILANTHROPIST, INTERRED ON TUESDAY.
I found myself reading, and couldn't stop. I read about how the family had had to wait for his wand to be returned to them so the funeral could take place. How the deceased's pet peacocks had been in presence. He had been interred beside his wife Narcissa Malfoy née Black. The location of the mausoleum wasn't noted, perhaps because there were some who would be eager to defile it. Likely it was in the Malfoy's private grounds anyway, inaccessible to vengeful half bloods and muggle borns.
George's funeral wouldn't grace the front page. But I was glad of it.
I felt an uncomfortable sympathy for Draco as I stared at the picture again. He was a year younger than me, and had lost both his parents. I had never known my birth parents, but that was another matter. And what warmth or comfort would he have from the hard hearted people, the empty manor that surrounded him?
I ripped out all the front pages, crumpled them into balls, and threw them into the fire. All except the one about Remus going free. That one I folded into my pocket to keep.
The rest of the day and evening were ever so quiet. We had a small dinner, of which I managed to eat a few bites. When it was over Remus held my hand all the way up the stairs, and sat with me until I fell asleep.
His was the first face I saw the next day. He woke me with a soft squeeze of my shoulder, his other hand stroking my hair as he whispered into my ear. "Wilma…" His voice was soft but there was a note of excitement in it, and I opened my eyes with a questioning groan.
"Teddy's walking. Come see, he's walking by himself."
Now I understood why the blue of his eyes seemed brighter than usual, why there was a smile on his lips that he couldn't have erased if he'd tried.
My body longed to remain indefinitely in bed. But my heart demanded that I rise. If it was so important to Remus that I witness Teddy's early steps, then I would. Even if the very thought of being around the tiny boy made my insides feel dirty.
I followed him down the stairs in a warm dressing gown, his fingers twined through mine.
Teddy was indeed walking. His hair was brightest yellow, almost giving off sunlight as he toddled on his feet, travelling full stretches of the rug between the sofa and the armchair, giggling as he went.
After seeing him on all fours for so long the sight was shocking. There was a small bloom of pride in my heart, despite the pain that went with it. Andromeda sat cross legged on the floor and Remus went to kneel beside the chair, watching his son with eyes full of awe.
I stood in the doorway, unconsciously holding my belly.
Teddy walked his way to Remus, then to Andromeda, and finally he came to me, his little arms grabbing around my knee, his face filled with joy as he looked up.
The sight of his happy eyes was too much to resist. I reached down and gently held his hands with my fingers, kneeling and bringing him into a light hug, running my fingers through his bright hair. He laughed again, a gleeful, chiming sound, and left me to walk towards his father again.
This was the purest kind of magic. One day he'd been crawling and the next he was on two feet, suddenly able to walk for no reason at all but that he was meant to.
A cold wave of inadequacy rushed through me. He seemed so powerful, so confident on his feet, while I was limping through my life. I imagined my own lost children, and just as soon despised myself for feeling as though I wanted them, when I'd never really wanted them before they were gone.
I stared at Teddy and my vision blurred with tears.
A sharp shard of pain cut through me and I crouched over, the weight of my head falling forward. I stood up, leaning against the wall as my head spun, and went into the kitchen.
I bent over the table, clutching the chair with white knuckles. Dark spots appeared on the wood as my tears fell. I shivered feverishly, my breath coming in shallow gasps.
Two warm hands settled on my shoulders and it was Remus, his slow, hushing breaths sounding like waves on sand. I turned around, trembling, and buried myself in his chest for safety.
"Oh, your heart's going," he whispered, his voice shaky with empathy. "Breathe with me, alright? Shh…"
He held me fast and soothed me, his hand rubbing the small muscle of my shoulder. It was grounding and good. I exhaled more steadily, following the sound of his breath, pulling my lip into my mouth as I tried to stop my tears.
The pain ebbed, but my middle still felt sensitive, and it was hard to relax for fear that the memories would come back again.
"Want to name five things you see?" Remus asked gently, his palm brushing over my short hair. I shuddered slightly. It was a sensation I still hadn't got used to, with my hair so short.
"I'm fine," I said on instinct.
"Mmm," he hummed, his insistence soft, but still present. "Just humour me, then?"
My arms loosened around him and my fingers held onto his jumper. My eyes traversed the room and I named the little green plant sitting in the window, the jar of flour, the candle on the table, the bucket of garden tools that sat by the door, and the gloves draped over the side.
It helped. I felt stupid, but it helped.
"That's better, isn't it?" he said quietly. He pulled away a bit, and rubbed my tears with his thumbs. "I'm so sorry," he said, looking down into my eyes. "I'm so sorry I asked. I didn't consider…"
I gave a small shrug. "No. It's…" I looked up at him, and a small teary smile rose to my face from nowhere. "He's really walking."
Remus squeezed my shoulders, and an echoing smile graced his lips and eyes. I wrapped my arms around myself as he went and poured me a glass of cool water.
I still felt sad and cold, and as I watched his tall frame he seemed so far away.
When he came back he nearly handed me the glass, but seemed to sense my emotions and set it down instead. "Come here," he said, his voice unbearably soft. I did, stepping into his arms and letting him pull me closer into a long, warm embrace.
He didn't move, just hugging me tightly, his heart pounding softly through his jumper. My forearms bordered his spine and my hands pressed against his shoulder blades. And for the slightest moment there was a flashing echo of something from the past. From when we'd been together.
It faded fast, but I knew from the slight trembling of Remus's hand on my waist that he'd felt it too.
He let me be the one to decide when to let go, and I did just a few moments after that, unable to bear the twisting confusion in my body and brain.
A fine condensation had appeared on the water glass and I held it, the coolness calming my nerves through the veins in my hands as I sipped.
"Thank you," I said to him.
"Shall we go back in?" He turned slightly, and I realised it was to hide the blush in his cheeks. "You don't have to."
I swallowed, warding off the gentle shivering in my limbs. "I will."
I sat on the sofa against the pillows and set the glass on a coaster on the table.
Teddy toddled back and forth between his father and his grandmother a few times, then journeyed to where I sat. We all watched in quiet anticipation as he climbed his way up onto the sofa, needing only the slightest help from my hand on his side. He laughed as he stood up on the cushions, wobbling, and leaned forward with his hands on my shoulder. His soft breath rushed over my face, and the wonder of him, so small, so precious, so alive, overwhelmed me in a different way than it had done earlier.
I stared at him, every mote of my attention focused on the changes in his face, the utter innocence of his curiosity.
His fingers touched my hair and he made a soft cooing sound as his own hair turned snow-white to mirror it.
A little shiver went through my skull from his fingertips, his magic already forming. Teddy's eyes widened at the sensation and he squealed so loudly he seemed in danger of toppling over. I gently held his hips to steady him as he laughed and babbled.
I looked over at Remus and watched his eyes fill with tears as he watched us, weak with love.
Gabriel visited the next day and he and Andromeda began the Yuletide preparations.
They carried decorations down from the attic, and Andromeda soaked a seed of mistletoe in a glass of mulled wine before sending it hovering off into the house, to appear and grow at whim wherever it wished to.
Molly and Arthur appeared for a late breakfast. They didn't speak, and no-one asked them to. But they seemed to hold a silent conversation together, Arthur gently holding Molly's hand while they ate. Afterwards they went into the sitting room, and when I peeked in I saw them together on the sofa, Molly resuming the knitting she'd left, while Arthur silently watched her work.
Pouncer meowed to be let out of the house and I opened the door for him, watching as he wandered through the field and climbed the snowy hill towards the tree. He disappeared from sight and remained outside through the morning, coming back before lunchtime with a dead bird. He dropped it by the step, staring up at me expectantly.
"It's a gift," Gabriel said. But I couldn't keep the tears from my eyes.
Remus was the one to bury it at the edge of the thorny brush that bordered one end of the garden. I watched him from the window as he made a hole in the snow and set the bird inside, covering it again. He shook his hand in the cold air and when he walked back to the house he was sucking on the side of his thumb. I grabbed his hand and studied the bleeding cut. From one of the thorns.
"Just a scratch," he said.
I shook my head and retrieved the dittany from the cupboard, holding his hand steady while I put one drop onto the broken skin. It healed in a second.
I put the dittany away, and when I turned he was watching me, his eyes all too deep and revealing. I stood there paralysed for a moment, feeling trapped though he was all the way across the room. Then I hunched my shoulders around my beating heart and escaped, burying my emotions as I helped Andromeda hang the garlands.
Hagrid arrived in the afternoon, the heavy knock on the door making me jump. He was dressed in a massive overcoat, an axe at his side. "Ah!" he exclaimed, when Pouncer came running into the entryway. "There ye are, boy!"
Pouncer gave a fervent meow and weaved around Hagrid's boots. My heart hardened in anticipation of losing him.
Hagrid's voice summoned Phoebe downstairs, and she hugged him tightly despite her arms being unable to encompass his middle. He hugged her back tenderly. "Ye'll be the perfect help," he said when she pulled away, patting her head. Then he looked over at Andromeda, giving her a firm nod. "I'll find the perfect one, 'Dromeda. Yeh can count on me."
Phoebe pulled a warm cloak over her clothes, stepped into a pair of boots, and she and Hagrid set out towards the woods.
They returned half an hour later, Hagrid dragging a massive tree through the snow, leaving a furrow behind it. "Full o' Christmas faeries," he announced, his eyes bright and his cheeks flushed as he yanked it through the door, snowflakes spraying from the branches.
He tugged it across the floor into the sitting room, and moved the chair aside to make room for it in the corner. It was obvious from the first moment that the tree was far too big. "A shrinking charm'll do it," he declared.
"Will it hurt the faeries?" Phoebe asked.
"Shouldn't do," Hagrid said, drawing his wand.
"Hagrid," Andromeda said, drawing her own wand as well. "Perhaps it's best…"
"Oh! Alrigh'," Hagrid mumbled with embarrassment, stepping back while Andromeda cast the shrinking charm.
When the tree's size had been significantly reduced, Hagrid stood it up in the corner. It was perfect. Gabriel helped to settle it into a tree stand and everyone stood back to wait respectfully.
After a minute of stillness the lights of the tiny fairies that lived in Christmas pines turned on one by one, like candles, with a soft warm glow.
Phoebe gazed at the lights, full of awe, and I realised this was her first Christmas in the magical world.
"Do they die when the tree dies?" she said, a cloud passing over her expression.
"Merlin's beard, no! D'yeh think we'd cut the trees if they did? Yeh just take the tree back to the woods and shake it out, and they fly away."
Andromeda cleaned up the pine needles that were tracked across the floor.
Teddy walked in, Remus leaning down as best he could to hold the boy's small hand, and the glowing lights were reflected in his eyes. His hair turned the green of the tree, and after lightly gripping one of the lower branches he innocently bent forward to eat it. Remus pulled him back with a soft chuckle and Andromeda said that was her cue to start on dinner.
"Will you stay for dinner, Hagrid?"
"Oh," he said, slightly flustered. "Yeah, s'pose I will."
Dinner was prepared with magic.
For so long I'd seen magic in the context of violence, the essential ability at the very core of our nature, corrupted and used to destroy and kill.
Now, watching Andromeda, Gabriel and Ginny work, I was reminded of the beauty in it. The little sparks a wand could send, the waves in the air, the blooming flowers and tiny fireworks of colour.
Soon the table was set and spread with steaming platters and dishes. I could only smell the food faintly, barely at all. But when everyone sat, the warmth of the bodies around the table and the light of the candles made me feel safe despite my sadness.
Remus sat beside me, holding Teddy on his lap.
I managed to eat a few bites of soup, and then stared into space. I didn't know how long I stared, seeing nothing, before a word and the sound of a spoon being set inside a bowl awakened me. I looked around, blinking through the blankness in my eyes, and Remus gently touched my hand and squeezed it. I looked down at his wrist, and something about his presence steadied me even though he was trembling too.
His transformation was tomorrow, and I knew how much stress he'd been burying as the moon approached, how much pain he was hiding. My fingers found some strength and squeezed back.
I ate more, but only a little, wary of my stomach's sensitivity. Between spoonfuls I silently studied the faces around me.
The past months had left everyone in shambles. No-one was really well.
The only people who seemed entirely happy and healthy were Hagrid and Andromeda.
After the meal, mulled wine was served (which Remus pointedly declined). "Changed my perspective, see," Hagrid said, holding a jar in both hands. "It's a new chance at life! Isn't it, 'Dromeda?"
Andromeda nodded quietly, and gave Gabriel a meaningful glance.
Meanwhile the only thoughts I could hold in my head for any length of time were about death, and about Severus. Wondering if he was alright. Knowing he couldn't be.
When it had been dark outside for some time, and the snow was whispering across the window panes, Hagrid announced his departure. "Brutal up round Hogwarts this time o' year," he said, fixing the buckles of his massive cloak. "But beautiful too, and the hut's cosy." His eyes brightened with a thought. "I'll send yeh some mince pies for Christmas."
At the sound of the door opening Pouncer came running to the entryway. My heart sank, for some part of me had secretly hoped he would stay.
He sat down on the worn rug and meowed, looking up at Hagrid with his big green eyes, tail swishing. He meowed again and unexpectedly stood up, coming to me and rubbing against my leg.
Hagrid lifted his bushy eyebrows. "Thought tha' might be the case. Looks like he's shifted allegiance. And a smart feller for it, me bein' away so long!"
My throat constricted. "But… he's yours."
"No, no," Hagrid shook his head. "A Kneazle ain't a pet. Very wise creatures, and independent. Don't need humans at all. No… he's got 'is own will, and if he wants to stay with yeh, well, who am I to stop 'im?"
Pouncer pranced to the door again and Hagrid bent down, giving him some scratches behind the ears, making him purr. "Tha's me boy," he said, with a few tears in his voice.
But when he straightened up he was as jolly as ever. "Besides, I've still got the wolves up at Hogwarts, so I won' be lonely. Righ', well, best be off! I'll see yeh up at Hogwarts," he added, with a smile at Phoebe.
Then he stepped outside and faded into the snow.
The house settled into a winter-night quiet after that. Arthur and Molly went back to their bedroom, Andromeda and Gabriel made an early night, Teddy was put to sleep, and Ginny, Remus and I lingered in the sitting room, watching the fire.
Pouncer sat in my lap, his heat and heaviness comforting me. He purred softly with every exhale, his eyes closed.
"Any word from Harry and Ron?" Remus asked.
"They're alright. They're at our house," Ginny said.
Remus's expression was a painful mixture of surprise and remorse. "You have a house?"
Ginny's smile forgave all. "Yes, in Godric's Hollow."
"Congratulations," Remus said quietly.
Ginny glanced at me and I gave a weak wince of a smile, remembering Harry's birthday that summer. The hair-raising potion, the chocolate cake… Sirius Black's motorcycle and Lily Potter's grave.
A knock on the door broke the quiet mood and Ginny went to answer it. For a heart-stopping moment I wondered if it could be Severus.
Poppy stepped in, carrying the cold with her.
"Tea or cocoa?" Ginny asked.
"Tea, please. I'm just on my break," Poppy said, setting her potions bag down on the armchair. I assumed she must have been serving a shift at St Mungo's, but her next words corrected me. "I've been asked to supervise the transformations of the werewolves being held at the Ministry. I fought for them to be provided with free Wolfsbane for this first transformation. But many of them need more help than just the potion."
An unpleasant chill ran down my spine. "Those two boys?"
Poppy nodded gravely. It was heartbreaking to think of Gavin and Brian going through their first transformations. I wanted to ask more about how the Ministry was accommodating them but from the frustration that clung to Poppy I sensed it was nothing good, and Remus was already looking so pale and tormented by the thought that I decided not to ask.
"These," Poppy said, glancing at me as she pulled various vials from her bag, "are for you." I took them, recognising by now the potions for pain, and a few vials of calming draught and dreamless sleep.
"And this is for tomorrow." She handed Remus a flask, and it was clear that it contained his final dose of Wolfsbane. "I'm sorry," she said, her eyes genuinely warm as she took in his expression. "It's difficult enough helping them cope with the symptoms leading up, but I won't be able to get away tomorrow night."
"Of course," Remus said, his calm voice at odds with the fear in his eyes.
Ginny came in with a steaming cup of tea and Poppy took it, blowing softly before taking a sip. "What are your plans?" she said to Remus.
"I'll go to Eddleston," he said, his voice quiet and hoarse.
"Good," Poppy said, somehow finding a soothing voice, a sense of having all the time in the world to stand there and offer her comfort, despite the hurricane of responsibilities swarming around her. "You're going to be alright. You healed very well after last month, and you're much stronger now."
Remus nodded, but I could see that her words had not assuaged his anxieties in the slightest.
"I'll go with you," I murmured.
His eyes sharpened. "No."
"I was with you last month and you didn't hurt me. It would be no different."
Poppy hummed in agreement. "In fact it will be safer, because there won't be the chaos of the other werewolves there, and you'll be in your own house."
I held his hand with both of mine, and stared at him imploringly. I could see how much he feared being alone. His eyes remained hard, but only for so long, and at last he reluctantly agreed.
Poppy stood there and finished her tea in a few mouthfuls before going back into the cold. I stared out the window as her shape became a shadow, then disappeared. I was in awe of her, and only wished I might someday learn to be so strong.
The next day passed quickly.
Remus was too nervous to eat or to sit still, only nibbling a bit of bread with his potion to keep it down. He spent most of the morning walking outside, along the edge of the woods. No snow fell but it was still deathly cold, and I worried for him.
His anxiety pierced my defences, becoming my own, and yet that day I felt more like myself than I had since Rowle and Macnair. There was no room to dwell on how dirty, how wrong my body felt. All of my energies went into keeping Remus safe, coaxing him indoors, making him tea, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders while he sat in front of the fire. Andromeda seemed to understand how much I needed to take care of him, so she allowed me to pass back and forth between the fireplace and the kitchen without telling me to rest, to sit down, even though I knew she wanted to.
By dinnertime, any membrane he'd maintained between his body and the air around it had disintegrated, and his tension radiated outward, filling the room. Everyone could feel it, but Teddy especially so, and when the boy started crying from confusion Andromeda took him upstairs.
The sound of his cries were too much for Remus's nerves, and I was on my feet as soon as he was, slipping a calming draught into my pocket and picking up the insulated flask of tea I'd prepared earlier as I followed him to the fireplace.
We took the floo to his cottage and stepped out into his front room, with the bookshelves, the sofa under the window, the old armchair. It was very windy outside and anyone could have felt from the way the cold crept in that we were much farther north than we'd been a moment ago.
There was still a map laid over the kitchen table, someone's spare cloak hanging by the door. It was clear Remus hadn't been back yet.
I stripped the bed and put on the second set of linen from the cupboard while Remus sat on the sofa scratching his hand.
The skin was irritated when I returned, red and dry. The sight made me grimace and I held his hand tightly in both of mine to stop him doing it more. His body gave a jolt as I sat down beside him.
"You should go," he said, his voice wavering, his pupils swelling. "I have a bad feeling."
I took the calming draught out of my pocket and offered it to him, but he shook his head. "It might interfere."
"Has it before?"
"No, but I'm not taking the chance." It was normal for him to raise his voice in frustration so close to the transformation, but now he just sounded terrified.
My jaw tightened and I felt my heart racing. "Okay," I said. But it was so hard to watch him suffer.
I went to the kitchen and found a mug in the cabinet. It was dusty and I had to rub it on my jumper before filling it with tea from the flask. I considered tipping the potion into the mug but decided to respect his wishes. I carried it back to him and he took a few sips. It didn't seem to help much; he was still shivering despite having a bit of warmth inside him, and I knew that there was nothing more I could do. The rest was just waiting for it to be over.
We stayed on the sofa for a few more minutes before he stood up, shivering all over. "I should go to the bedroom," he said, his voice a frail moan.
I stayed by his side, holding his arm while he walked. I was too small to help him much, but he still leaned on me as we went down the short hallway to the bedroom.
"Wilma," he said once we were through the door, turning to me with a frantic look in his eyes. "I want to be in here alone. Lock the door before you leave and I'll open it in the morning. If I try to get out, you have to go home. Promise me."
I nodded weakly.
His eyes softened slightly, but then he groaned, his neck twisting back as his teeth bared. "Go," he gritted out, his voice hard with pain.
I fled the room as the tremors got worse, but I didn't turn the lock before I went. I stayed just outside, holding the doorknob. I felt guilty for deceiving him, but the thought of being unable to get to him if he needed me was too much to bear.
My eyes clenched shut as I weathered the storm of his groans and shouts, and finally the sounds of agony were replaced by the soft, exhausted whimpers of the wolf. I drew in a deep breath, and opened the door.
He looked up at me and whined, and I saw in his eyes that he was angry that I'd lied to him, but also grateful that I was there.
"Sorry," I whispered. He just gave a gentle huff.
I was just as awed by his appearance as I'd been the month before. There was something beautiful about him like this, despite everything.
I approached him slowly–so, so slowly–and he didn't stop me. When I was near enough he dropped his head and sniffed the inside of my elbow, nuzzling softly against my hip. Despite my confidence a tiny part of me had been infected by Remus's fear, and when I wrapped my arms around his soft grey neck I was full of relief.
He gave a soft growl and pulled away, looking at me evenly for a moment. Then something changed in his eyes and he whimpered again, a shiver rippling across his grey coat. He brushed past me and walked through the door, down the hallway. I followed him into the front room, where he planted himself in front of the front door, staring at it as he continued whining, his tail between his legs.
The anxieties he'd felt before were finding their full expression now, and I could tell he was afraid that someone was outside.
I went to the window and opened the curtains. "Look." He came over and his breath fogged against the glass. "There's no-one out there. And the door's locked, anyway."
He whimpered again and went through the kitchen to the other door that led towards the woods, where I'd first seen one of the creatures. I pulled back the curtains on the other window and he looked out again, staring long and hard into the snowy darkness.
"We're safe," I said, stroking his fur. He looked at me, his eyes wide and full of worry. "Nobody's going to hurt you, or me, and you're not going to hurt me. Alright?"
He held my gaze and made a low, quiet sound. Then he pressed his face against my shoulder. His display of concern seemed to have drained him of the last of his energy.
"Let's go back in there where it's soft and cosy."
He huffed in agreement and followed me back to the bedroom.
I invited him to snuggle into the blankets, but when he planted one paw on the mattress, the bed creaked with his weight. I hadn't thought about that–he was too big for the bed, now. I pulled the blankets off and made a nest on the floor instead. He laid down there, curling up in a peaceful ball. I knelt next to him for a minute, rubbing his ears until he relaxed, his body heaving a long sigh as his eyes closed.
Then I crawled into the bed under the thin sheet that was left. I tucked my legs in towards my chest but was still shivering a minute later, my extremities freezing cold.
Remus gave a little whine, his sleepy eyes watching me through the dimness. He pawed the blankets beside him and I knew what he meant. I climbed out of the bed, bringing the sheet with me, and shamelessly cuddled up against his fur. He was like a furnace.
He wrapped himself around me with a gentle growl. And despite the objective absurdity of the situation, I felt a sense of rightness. As though this was how things were supposed to be.
I rested safely in his protection while the wind moaned outside, my body warming all the way to my fingers and toes, his fur better than any blanket. He pressed his nose against my nose, his eyes staring into mine, and gave me a soft lick on the cheek.
It was something he would never have done in his human body, something I knew we would never speak of. But that didn't matter now. Only the tender purity of his gesture. And I fell asleep buried in his warmth.
NOTE
Wilma is on the healing path, but I also want to make it clear that her journey won't be free of emotional difficulty. It's all going to change for the better but recovery is painful.
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