NOTHING GIRL || Remus Lupin

-Forty Seven: The Beginning of the End-

McGonagall passed a hand over her forehead briefly. No, this was not how she had expected today to go.

......................

Remus blinked his eyes open. He was in the whitewashed world of the hospital wing at Hogwarts, he recognised instantly. He had woken up enough times to the cracked and peeling ceiling to recognise it from most others of the same kind. He sat up slowly, a sudden punch in his side stopping him suddenly. He hissed his pain out between his teeth as he struggled into a sitting position.

"Good morning, Mr Lupin."

Remus turned sharply, sending another spike of agony through him. Professor Dumbledore was seated in the comfortable armchair by his bed, eyes twinkling the way they always seemed to do.

"Professor." Remus scrambled to do... Something. He didn't know. Just something to regain his dignity in front of the wizened old wizard.

"I don't wish to waste either of our time." The headmaster said, "And I am sure that Mr Potter and Mr Black will be most eager to see that you've made a recovery, but there is only one thing that I regretfully must ask you beforehand."

"What.. uh... What is it?" Remus asked, his mind already elsewhere. He was trying to collect his memories of last night so that they formed some kind of cohesive pattern.

"Last night, a man was found in Professor McGonagall's office. A man with this around his neck." The professor handed Remus a slightly creased note. The handwriting was instantly familiar.

A present for you. I hope you find some use for it.

P.S. just threaten him a bit. He squeals like a pig.

Remus felt like banging his head against the wall. Merlin, Helia. What have you got yourself into now?

He sensed Professor Dumbledore's eyes on him. "What can I help you with, sir?"

"I thought maybe you would be able to identify the writer of this message." Dumbledore said.

Remus understood that there was more to be implied from his words than what Dumbledore was saying. "Wouldn't Professor McGonagall be able to do it, sir?" He asked politely.

"It would be inadvisable for Professor McGonagall to make any comment without being absolutely sure, given the reprocussions of kidnapping, binding and implying the torture of another person." Dumbledore said. Remus felt a form of understanding slot into place.

"I couldn't tell you if anyone I knew had written that." He answered firmly.

"I understand, though that is a shame." Professor Dumbledore said, standing. "I wish you a good recovery." Dumbledore paused on his way out, leaning back around the door. "Oh, and on an entirely unrelated note, Miss Blacksmith appears to have disappeared from the Ravenclaw Tower overnight."

The teacher left, and it was only then that Remus noticed the book left on his bedside table. He barely noticed the title, or the author, or the swirling colours of the cover. What he noticed was the scrawling font that he had been staring at only a few seconds before: Property of Helia Blacksmith.

And he tried not to think about what it meant that the book was there. He tried not to imagine the possibilities of Helia caring enough to visit him while he was dying, because that would make him think about yesterday, and the one memory that he could piece together, of Helia's eyes looking down at him: somehow the most brilliant blue you've ever seen while also being dark enough to hide sparks of stars hiding around her iris.

No, Remus wouldn't think about any of that. 

Hours later, he was released from the Hospital Wing under strict instructions to return once every day until the end of term, when he would be referred to Saint Mungos.