The Marauders: Year Seven Part Two

Ribs

Frek stood under a full moon in a dark forest, very, very far away. He stared up, waiting for the light to be its brightest, then turned, counting steps through the trees. Branches hung low and scratchy over the pathway, nipping at his cloaks as he paced, muttering to himself, counting, backtracking and counting again... It had always been Garm who had led the way going to and from this place... always been Garm who had spoke the incantation... Then, he suddenly felt it. This was it. This was the place. He stood still, in the middle of a clearing, a shaft of bright blue-white moonlight falling through a break in the branches... and Frek clutched his wand in his fist and closed his eyes. There was a long and quiet moment before he reached out his hand tremulously, eyes still closed, and his fingers touched a hard, smooth surface... a door in the darkness, a knob, invisible to the eye, and he wrapped his grip around it and pulled it opened... stepping through, and disappearing within it himself. 

Fallengunder lay still, the lights off in every window. Bilius Weasley and Chriselda Blythe lurked in the shadows beneath the trees. Gideon and Fabian Prewett would not be coming, they were being targeted by Death Eaters. Twice since the imperius had been set on Gideon, one of the two twins had been in near danger. The Ministry had ordered them under a protective watch as a result, and now it was only Bil and Chrissy to guard the castle, crouching behind trees along the edge of the forest. It felt too familiar, Bilius thought, staring out across the clearing, thinking of Derek Bell. Chriselda was thinking of him, too, but neither spoke his name. Neither dared to in the other's presence - after all, the memory of Derek could only complicate their personal relationship... could only bring back all the guilt Bilius had felt in being with Chrissy... So they crouched in silence, waiting, staring up at the castle...

The werewolf lay in the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade, panting shallow breaths, curled into the soft fluff of Snuffles, whose chin rested on the wolf's haunch. The dog stared with half-closed eyes, watching the wolf, yawning so big so that his wide doggy tongue flopped out. Remus had complained of his ribs hurting before his transformation, and Sirius feared that the cracking sound he'd heard had been one of them breaking beneath Remus's skin... The thought frightened him, and he was glad when the bad moon had brought about an exhausted werewolf, rather than a vengeful, energetic one. As awful as the thought of Remus's rib being broken was, Sirius had been thankful that Remus's wolf was tired this month. It meant he was safely tucked up in the Shrieking Shack, rather than racing through the woods, getting more bruised and cut up than he already was... It meant snuggling before the dying embers of the fire place all night, rather than the wolf being chucked to the floor by the antlers of a stag... 

Remus woke in Madam Pomfrey's ward three days after the full moon - his body stiff and sore. The bottle of skelegro sat on the nightstand beside his shoulder and he blinked awake, to find Sirius Black asleep in the chair beside his bed. The sun was just coming up and he groaned as he tried to move...

"Moony, no, be careful. They had to set it a muggle way..." Sirius woke, his hands splaying out to stop Remus from moving too much.

Remus looked down, confused, and found his chest had been bandaged, and smelled heavily of some sort of breath-taking mint-like medicinal scent. He turned his nose, and glanced at Sirius. "What happened? What'd I do? Where are James and Peter?"

"Upstairs, in the dormitories or else off at a class," Sirius answered.

Remus breathed in relief - though it hurt, so relief may not have been exactly the word. "How'd I end up here? I don't remember... well, I don't really remember anything from the transformation on. Just that everything was hurting and then... it started, and there was a really terrible pain and then, just nothing."