Four To The End (prev Shifting Lines) - Book One (Marauder Era)

Chapter Fifty-Seven - Crying In The Night

The weekend felt very long to Remus. Even on Saturday he was really tired, and on Sunday it was even worse. He slept in very late, waking up only when his friends shook him awake for lunch. As soon as he slithered out of bed he saw the concern on their faces. He dreaded what the mirror would show. Ugh, he thought, seeing how awful he looked. He doubted he'd be able to get away with the sick mum story this time around. He looked on the verge of death.

"We can bring you lunch," Peter said, practically hopping from foot to foot as he glanced between Remus and the other two.

Sirius stepped forward. "Yeah, mate, you stay in bed, we'll bring you something to eat."

"I'm f--fine," he mumbled. He opened up his dresser and just stared down at the clothes, feeling confused. Like he couldn't even remember what clothes were for. He hated four moon nights, and the pre-exhaustion just tore at his body. Then James was shutting the dresser drawer while Sirius guided Remus back to his bed. "No, I'm fine!" But he fell back into his covers without much other protest.

The three boys had a whispered discussion which Remus heard every word of, involving who would fetch the food, who would stay, and whether they should take Remus to Pomfrey. Then their voices faded into nothingness as Remus fell back into a fitful sleep. He managed to wake up enough to eat the food his friends brought him then agreed to be taken to the hospital wing. They left him alone to get dressed (as well as pack a bag) then led him through the school. Once in a hospital bed, he asked them to please let Lily know. Then Pomfrey kicked them all out.

"M--might as well just go," he said once they were alone, so she helped him bundle up and took him out to the Whomping Willow. Once in the house he just went right back to sleep, and slept until the moon pulled him out of his dreams, on the verge of rising. He fell off the couch and desperately began trying to get undressed. He should have brought something to set an alarm, to wake him up. He hadn't thought of this happening...

He let out a cry as the moon rose and his curse took over. He had managed to get his shirt off but his jeans were going to be ruined. He scrabbled with the top of his pants, trying to push them down through the pain, then his nails lengthened into claws, ripping through the denim, into his flesh. His body morphed and twisted, and he had one small thought of, At least they're old, crappy jeans, before the wolf took over.

*

In the morning Remus only had a few small injuries though his clothes had been ruined, and his bag which he had left out. He stared in dismay at the tattered fabric. At the shreds of paper from the books inside. He picked up a scrap of paper then dropped it, watching it fluttering to the floor, landing in a small puddle of blood. He had brought old paperbacks he had gotten from a used bookstore but still...

He got to his feet as he heard Pomfrey down the tunnel, and limped to the bathroom to clean himself off, glad he was able to. He wasn't sure what he'd do about lack of clothes, though; hopefully she'd be able to conjure up some hospital pajamas or something. When he left the bathroom he had a large towel wrapped around his body. Pomfrey had his ruined bag in her hand, trying her best to repair it. It mostly knitted itself back together however Pomfrey's ability definitely leaned more towards knitting flesh and bones back together, not fabric; you could still see claw marks. He'd have to write home and ask for a new bag...

"It doesn't seem to be so bad this time," she said as she put bandages on his wounds. They'd probably all be healed up before lunch.

I wonder why, he thought as she did indeed conjure up some pajamas. Because I slept so much? The last time it had been a four nights had been in June. It had been as violent as any other time. Had he slept a lot that day? He couldn't really remember. He did remember his mother fixing a nice steak dinner before, walking with him down to the cellar, sitting with him, stroking his hair, singing to him. She hated four nights, too. Her last letter to him had been bemoaning the fact he had to go through the ordeal two months in a row 'but at least the second one will be at home' which--well, he... needed to write to them...