The moon and me - marauders x y/n

Here, Alone, Again

"You're in and out of that bloody hospital wing more than my dad's in and out of my mum!" Exclaimed Frankie, making a rude gesture with her hand to add to the already vulgar and exaggerated statement.

Raph laughed, covering his mouth and looking away from me.

"Gross, but she's got a point y/n. Flitwick's gonna spontaneously combust if you miss another choir rehearsal. You're at the hospital like every 3 weeks, they're gonna stop buying it soon." He adds, looking sincere as the pink that rose from laughing slowly fades from his cheeks.

"There's nothing for them to buy!" I say, exasperated. "I've got-

-"sostinious respirator disease" they cut me off, answering in union

"We know." Frankie adds, rolling her eyes.
"If you can't perform the solo tomorrow he's going to give your place to Pavati you know."

I sigh deeply, wishing my headache would stop long enough for me to find a solution. Frankie hugs me goodbye once we're standing outside the doors to the hospital wing. Raph scruffs up my hair with his fist, saying he'll miss me then promptly takes off running back down the corridor, shouting something to Frankie about being first to the hall for desert. She turns to blow me a kiss before running off after him.

I love choir, I think as I check they're definitely gone and start down the hall adjacent to this, heading away from the hospital wing. I'd give anything to sing that solo tomorrow, merlin knows I've practiced enough to deserve it.

I open the battered wooden door to a lesser used storage closet on the second left of the adjacent hall to the hospital wing, tapping my wand against the handle and muttering the incantation I've long since memorised.

Sostinious respirator disease doesn't exist. Turns out wizard teachers will believe pretty much anything can be a silly muggle concept, and of course that's too far below them to actually research. It's been my excuse for 3 years now, since I was bitten.

Lycanthropy is fucking shit.

Even if I was alert and awake and uninjured enough to perform tomorrow, my voice is always gone the night after a moon. My throat is raw from screaming, and then my voice hoarse from howling.

I use a spell to lock the door behind me once I'm in the closet. With another muttered incantation the dusty shelves before me transfigure into the outline of an even dustier door. I push through and find myself in the cramped little shed I've grown up transforming in.

Right in the middle of the forbidden forest.

The floorboards creak as I move to lock the door and the cold metal chains brush against my ankles. I drop to the floor as the headache burns its way into a migrane and a blistering pain scolds its way down my spine. The transformation is underway and I'm mind numbingly aware of every nerve in my body.

Another night in paradise.