Obsidian & Bronze {Fred Weasley}

8. The underdog

The week leading up to the meeting with Tonks was nothing short of sickening. My scenes seemed to be heighted and the prospect of what lingered around every corner was slowly driving me over the edge.

The world seemed to be out of focus, and the immense discomfort was only growing stronger as I sat in Remus's living quarters, anxiously waiting for his arrival.

It never normally took this long and that seemingly made it all worse. The sun had risen forty five minutes prior to me arriving here and his absence was now sending my paranoia into overdrive.

My brain started to helplessly wander to the worst of places, that place inside of me that it wandered to every month, because I knew, better than anyone, that it was a perfectly rational place to be.

I could practically see him, see him like I did that day. His body limp and defenceless, no life seeming to embody the once strong winds for the world around us was now at a stand still. Countless cruel and violently raw gashes had torn his delicate features so effortlessly.

The recollection of deep scarlet traces pooling around us, my entire front covered in searingly hot deep blood, some of it Remus's, but I was fairly certain a large proportion was my own.

However, the most notable memory was one I wish I could escape all together, and yet the only one I would forever be attached to. For I only had to look down, and run a soft finger over the permanent crimson infusion dragged across my shoulder, a jagged and inflamed scar that would forever be a reminder of that night.

On replaying that memory, I had absentmindedly brought my hand up to my shoulder and began to gently run my hand over the mark, winching slightly when I pressed into the material of my t-shirt harder than intended.

But I was soon knocked from my trance as the door creaked open with minimal force and Remus slowly entered the doorway, small whimpers falling from his lips as he limped towards bed.

He didn't say anything for a moment whilst he adjusted himself on the edge of the bed, he simply just acknowledged my presence before starting to pull at the hem of his shirt slowly. I could only assume he was reluctant to observe the inevitable damage he had inflicted.

"I told you that you didn't have to wait here for me" He stated whilst slowly lifting the blood soaked t-shirt from his torso.

I audibly chuckled at his remark. The assumption that I would do anything other than wait here was ridiculous, of course I would wait. Although often, I wondered on whose behalf I was waiting for, his or my own?

"And I told you that I want to wait" I whispered as I made my way over to him and silently asked for permission to help him with the removal of his top so I could inspect the wounds myself.

You would assume someone who had been a werewolf thirty two year of his life would be more equipped with basic healing skills, but then I suppose that was Sirius' job for a long time.

I had successfully removed his t-shirt as was left faced with his torso, angry and fresh cuts littered around, whilst a cripplingly raw gash made itself known as it tore through his ribcage. I barely made a sound as I examined him, I was so desensitized to such a sight by now. Nevertheless, it did often hurt to acknowledge that this was his normal.

I grabbed my wand and some dittany off the side and began to clean each cut carefully, humming absentmindedly as I did so.

"How is yours doing Elle?" Remus questioned, his eyes trailing down to meet my shoulder whilst I continued to clean off traces of dry blood splatter across his jaw.

"Fine" I lied, not willinging to draw attention to myself at that moment. It did hurt, it hurt more than allowed myself to admit. During the full moon the pain was often insufferable, a heated, stabbing agony that I silently endured, I didn't have another choice.