The Marauders: Year Seven Part One

Only Ottalie Would Know

Ned Veigler used his wand to open the door to one of the many guest rooms upstairs. Carefully, he lay the woman down, resting her head upon the pillow, and tucking her in. Her eyes were crossed with exhaustion, the wound smelled of burned flesh, but had healed cleanly, save for the small pucker of a fresh scar. He brushed a bit of her silver-blonde hair from her eyes as he stared down at her.

"You said we've met before," she breathed.

Ned nodded, "We have."

"Why don't I remember it?" she asked.

"No reason to," Ned replied quietly.

The woman stared up at him, her eyes flickering with the threat of sleep, "A man as handsome as you are, I very well should have," she said.

Ned smiled as best he could. "Get some rest," he said quietly, "Before you say something you'll be embarrassed of in the morning." He backed out of the room, pausing in the doorway. "Goodnight," he murmured, and he flicked his wand discreetly and the lights went dim.

Downstairs, Remus was still sitting up in the window of the library, petting the kneazle, staring out at the stars and the portion of the moon in the sky. He looked up as Ned entered, his eyes concerned. "Is she alright?"

Ned nodded, "A little sleep and she'll be right as rain, once the shock wears off." He hobbled, his bones in even more pain than ever after the excitement, and went to stoke the fire. "Of course, before she leaves, we'll need to modify her memory."

Remus frowned.

Ned saw the look on his face. "Well we can't very well send her back off into the Muggle village telling stories of the healing properties of musclemahla, can we?"

Remus looked down at the kneazle. "Who do you reckon shot her?"

"Dunno," Ned replied.

Remus let a silence sit between them for several long moments as Ned put a couple logs on and poked at the cinders and ash. "Is she that woman you told me about? Last year?"

Ned stared at the fire.

"The one you're in love with?"

Ned put the poker for the fire into it's spot on floo stand. He cleared his throat, "It doesn't matter if she is. All the more reason to modify her memory."

Remus watched as the kneazle, tired of human interaction, jumped down and slipped out the door of the library. "But Professor," he said, "This could be your chance..."

Ned leaned against the mantel, carefully not looking back at Remus. "I can't subject another soul to my condition," he murmured. "No one deserves to have lives as disturbed as... as ours would make them."

Remus replied, "We deserve love, too, Professor."

Ned looked 'round at Remus's silhouette.

Remus turned and stood up, crossing the room to stand with Ned at the fireplace. His voice was firm. "Just because you're a werewolf, it doesn't mean --" his voice choked up as he spoke because, he realized, even as he said it, that if it wasn't for Sirius, he wouldn't believe it, either. He stopped speaking.

Ned turned and looked at Remus. "You can't even say it."

"If I can have love, then you can, too," Remus said shakily.

"She's a muggle Remus. Asking her to accept the magical world is shock enough, but to accept it and then be shunned from it on account of what I am... that is the worst cruelty I could ever dream of inflicting upon her." Ned shook his head. "Her memory will be wiped clean tomorrow. It'll be as though she never --" he stopped.