A/N: Yeah, so this chapter was written one way and then in revision turned out another. Go figure. And I even got a surprise while I was writing it. Writing is weird like that, not only the reader gets shocks.
Disclaimer: Yeah, no, not mine. JK Rowling and WB have the copyright, I'm just playing with this stuff until I get my own toys.
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Chapter Five
It might have been a humid early July afternoon, but Milo was shivering uncontrollably beside me on what remained of the back steps of the old Lupin house. I could hear his teeth chattering in his closed mouth and over the conversation in the kitchen-one of the few rooms that had been left behind after the fire-between Dad and Aunt Tonks. But he was not the only one who had become significantly subdued, so had Connor. Seated at my feet he had not said a word since we arrived and was unlikely to for some time yet. Torn between trepidation and excitement, I couldn't bring myself to attempt conversation, so that, for once, my ring was justifiably amber-grey.
The shed that Milo and Uncle Lupin were to transform in lay straight ahead at the end of the backyard and appeared at once much too far away and then not close enough. My mind was flooded with questions: how was Milo to know that we were there? What if one of them got out? Why did Milo have to go in there, couldn't he be out like Uncle Lupin sometimes was?
But these were unhelpful thoughts to have, just serving to increase my anxiety and would surely get Dad to send me away like Mum if I voiced any of them. From the moment I saw the shed when we arrived I had decided that if Mum couldn't be there I was going to do everything I could to lessen the pain of her absence. And I had been extraordinarily good to Milo so far too. I made sure that he ate, I helped him get changed, I didn't complain when he threw up and Dad made me clean it. I even tried to get him to talk about the latest issue of Úlfhéðnar, which I hadn't read so I had no clue about, to distract him for a bit. It didn't work for long.
Looking at the little shed now, with its heavy stone walls and old but sturdy oak door, reinforced by silver-coated steel bracings and a heavy padlock, I couldn't help but wonder if he would have noticed had I offered him all the candy he could eat for a month. The sun dipped ever lower in the sky as time passed, it was almost time for them to go in and that more than anything preoccupied his thoughts. At this I put my arm around his shoulders and drew him into a hug. It was just another sign of how terribly he was taking this that he didn't push me away.
In a stark contrast, Uncle Lupin was the liveliest person present. Though he was now at his weakest, unable to walk without the support of the cane, he was inspecting the property and shed to ensure that all was in place, and now most important, that there was no possibility of us being spied. Should the headline tomorrow morning read: "Harry Potter Risks Life of Second Child at Full Moon!" there would be hell to pay. I was just grateful for Uncle Lupin as a distraction. Every time he came into my line of sight I was temporarily able to dispel my worries about Milo with wonder at how cheerful he appeared. He actually whistled as he hobbled, and made me think of when Milo had first been bitten, how excited he'd been at the prospect of becoming a part of the comic book.
But of course Uncle Lupin had had years to adjust to the transformation from a little boy human into a mindless beast. Every time I tried to imagine watching my hands become paws with claws and my face elongated and grow a double bridge of sharp teeth I had to suppress a shiver. Add to that that this would happen every month for the rest of my life and I was sure that I would have found a way to kill myself by now. More than ever I could fully appreciate Milo's rant in the graveyard. The sheer horror of it, unless you embraced the change like Fenrir Greyback, would drive anyone to madness or suicide. I could even understand why Connor had wanted me along.
At this I looked down at Connor, sitting with his elbows on his knees, propping his head up with his hands while he stared blankly out at his father walking by. His expression was for all intents and purposes serene, but I was sure that I could see a tension at his brow and in his eyes. It was almost as if he too were willing himself to be calm, trying not to think of the horror to unfold. For a moment I pondered putting my hand on his shoulder, letting him know that I understood, that I was there for him too, and then I decided against it when I remembered his cure. I myself would give anything for a cure to this torture if I could have back the jolly, happy-go-lucky little brother I'd had for the past ten years. But the danger of what could be lost in the process, not the least of which was my humanity, was not worth it. The Dark Arts made monsters of men.
Of course he was not the only potential problem.
That morning when the OGB delivered Milo's final dose for the month and had seen to it that he had drunk it all up, he had remained for a time speaking with him. I was sent out of the room and then when he emerged he'd more or less commanded me to take him to my parents, to whom he said without preamble, "I'd like to begin instructing your younger daughter, Mackenzie, in the preparation of the Wolfsbane Potion."
My mother stared at him wide-eyed but my father said, "Two questions: why not Magnolia? And two, just why?"
"I am your daughter's teacher, and as such am in the best position to determine your child's capacity to appreciate a subject. Magnolia is good at Potions, will most likely pass well in her OWLS, but she has displayed no special talent for the subject. Your younger daughter, by contrast, has shown some interest and after some observation, has certain precision and attention to detail that is especially useful to a Potions Master," he replied.
"Observation? When have you been observing my daughter?" asked Dad, gaze narrowed.
The OGB, as expected, ignored this. Then Mum said, "No."
This seemed to surprise the OGB, and he asked, "Why not?"
Dad looked at her surprised too. "Yeah, why not?"
She replied, "Mackenzie's eight and will probably change her mind next week. I'm not going to saddle her with so great a responsibility when she has an older sister who can handle it."
Dad accepted this and turned to the OGB. "Yeah, what she said."
The OGB did not. "I want Mackenzie."
Mum continued to surprise by snapping then. "We're not the Lupins; you can't just walk in here and demand one of our children! I said, `no' and that's final!"
We all stared at her completely stunned, but then I remembered what I'd been told about her reactions to Milo's transformations and sussed the cause. Tonight was the full moon and she wasn't allowed to go the shed.
But I was not the only one who remembered this. After staring at her for a time with the closest thing he could come to astonishment, the OGB cleared his throat and said, "I see I've caught you on a bad day. I'll return when you're more rational. Good day Mrs Potter, Miss Potter."
He left quietly after and as soon as we heard the door shut behind him, Dad turned to her and said gently, "Hermione... honey... you can't go around snapping at people, even Snape." When she looked up at him angrily he hastily added, "I whole-heartedly agree with you of course, but he didn't bite Milo. The girls need to know how to take care of their brother, we won't be here forever and we need him to teach them how."
"I'm not letting Mackenzie study to brew the Wolfsbane, he can teach Magnolia, but not Mackenzie," she insisted.
"Yes, yes, of course, he'll teach Lillie, (I gave him a horrified look at this, which he ignored) but I need you to be more... diplomatic in your approach. I really don't care about how you to talk to him, but I do care if this turns into something where people can't speak to you for fear you'll bite their head off," he said.
It was weird to hear Dad being the rational one, but I was still seething over the fact that I was being saddled with a responsibility I could happily do without to pay much mind to it.
Mum in response just waved him away and went back to the paper she was reading. I left them in the kitchen at that, but in spite of Dad's chat she was still quite irritable hours later. She did not like not being able to be around Milo and she was not going to let anyone forget it. It was so unlike her that I spent the rest of the day in my room. I didn't like to see Mum like that. What she wouldn't give to be here now, I knew, but Dad was not going to risk her life by allowing her back.
And then, quite suddenly it felt, Dad and Aunt Tonks came to the door behind us and Aunt Tonks said, "It's time for you to be getting in, the moon is coming."
I at once looked over to the horizon I could see just over the tree tops across the backyard but saw nothing. The sun had gone, leaving a pastel orange and soft violet sky in its wake, but as far as I could see there was no moon. That was good, I was pretty sure that the last thing Milo would have wanted was to transform in front of the rest of us. Uncle Lupin stopped his inspection then and came to the front steps.
Smiling brightly, an odd, heartbreaking sight with his otherwise fatigued and scarred appearance; he extended a hand to Milo and asked, "Ready to go, comrade?"
Milo, unable to conceal his terror, nodded meekly and ducked out from beneath my arm, allowing his blanket to fall away at the same time. The long brown hairs that covered his body made him look like some kind of circus act, but the body beneath was so small and frail-looking that it was clear that something wasn't right with him. I moved to help him to his feet but then Uncle Lupin said, "It's okay, Lillie, I've got him."
I felt my heart tearing itself to pieces.
Connor stood up swiftly, partly to get out of their way, and asked Uncle Lupin, "Do you need me to get you anything?"
His father, still smiling reassuringly at Milo, replied, "No, I've got my partner-in-crime here, I'm good for the night." Then he looked up at his son and said, almost wistfully, "My God, you're almost a man...."
I could hear the smile in Aunt Tonks' voice as she said, "You did good."
Dad gagged, she hit him, and then Uncle Lupin cleared his throat and said to Connor, "Actually, and I'm sure that Harry will appreciate this as well, I'd just like to watch over Lillie for the evening. Let her know how this works and keep her out of trouble." Then he added to Milo, "While I watch over Milo here."
Milo, standing on shaky legs smiled bravely back at Uncle Lupin and asked, "Are you going to tell me the rest of that story you started the last time?"
"As long as the moon doesn't reach us tonight, I'll you all the rest of that and start another," Uncle Lupin replied.
Just a little, my heart began to mend. It wasn't going to be that bad, maybe.... Well, as long as Connor didn't decide to take his father's instructions too literally, I already had to deal with enough of that overprotective nonsense from Rigel and my father.
Dad spoke up then, "Well now, Connor, why don't you get Lillie into the house and start locking doors and windows. I want those blinds drawn and very little light; remember you're not supposed to be here. If anything happens you are not to come out under any circumstances, not even if you hear anyone screaming."
I blanched, but nodded along with Connor. Then we remained with them on the steps as Milo and Uncle Lupin started off towards the shed. Aunt Tonks followed to lock the door behind them and I felt my heart breaking again, this wasn't going to be easy to watch. How could Connor want me to see this? How could Dad have agreed? I empathised fully with Mum; it wasn't right that Milo was going to be locked up in there, Uncle Lupin or no.
But just as they got to the door, as if he had read my mind, Dad grabbed Connor's sleeve and said, "I told you two to get into the house, go! Now!"
Then, without waiting for compliance, he pushed us both in and locked the door behind us. All sound from without vanished, no doubt Dad's doing, though I was sure he and Aunt Tonks could hear everything that was going on within. I immediately turned to Connor and said, "I want to see what's going on."
He walked to the kitchen window, lifted the heavy blind that had been nailed over it with his wand and looked out. "They're in the shed, I think, I don't see them but my Mum's casting charms."
I went to his side and peered out. He was right, Aunt Tonks was locking the door and Dad was setting up wards that would obscure view, render cameras useless and outright expose anyone who had trespassed.
That wasn't quite what I meant. I said, "No, I want to know what's going on in that shed. I want to know that Milo's not scared."
He looked down at me. "They won't let you, but Milo's fine, he's with my Dad."
Stubbornly, I insisted, "I want to see that for myself. You heard his teeth, you saw him shaking."
He put a hand on my shoulder and said softly, but firmly, "He's with my Dad."
I turned away from his touch and walked away to the living room, still fire-blackened and smelling of smoke. Most of the house's walls were actually gone, in fact there wasn't even a second floor anymore, but Dad and Aunt Tonks had magically rebuilt some of the structure from the charred remains of the original. What they couldn't, today they'd used heavy, wool blankets, tarpaulin and magic to take of. It looked like a shanty-town shack in some Third World nation.
For a while I just stood in the doorway looking around the room trying to re-imagine the way it looked before, and then I asked, "How are things between you and Snape? Lessons going well?"
I could hear his surprise as he asked, "What?"
Without turning round, I elaborated. "He came by this morning and asked, or rather demanded that my parents allow him to start teaching Mackenzie how to brew Wolfsbane Potion. What, has he gotten tired of you?"
He came up behind me and leaned against the opposite door frame, and then replied, "I don't know. Why doesn't he start teaching you?"
"He said I don't have the `capacity to appreciate the subject'," I replied. "Of course, since Mum refused to hand over Mackenzie I've been informed that I will have to do the honours. What is it with my parents; didn't they humiliate me enough last winter when I had to take duelling lessons with Camilla?"
Connor smiled. "Don't worry about it; I don't have the capacity to appreciate Transfiguration no matter what I do."
"I'm not," I said, truthfully. "I'm more concerned about the fact that he wants to take Mackenzie under his wing. No offence, but I don't want her to become like you."
"None taken," said Connor.
I continued as if I hadn't heard him, "You're a good person and I know you would never do it, but I don't want him putting the idea into her head that she'll one day have to kill Milo. Or that she should come up with a way to stop that and go off to Durmstrang to read up on the Dark Arts to find out about werewolves and-"
He shushed me with a hand over my mouth and an alarmed expression on his face. I looked up at him as defiantly as I could muster, so that he held his hand there as he began, "I can see that your Mum's not the only one being negatively affected by Milo's transformations.... Maggie, I've told you, I know what I'm doing. I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't and I certainly wouldn't do something that could hurt someone else."
I shrugged out of his grasp and replied, "Have you ever heard anything about the abyss that looks back into you?"
He turned away from me, knocked his head back against the door frame and exhaled heavily. "Maggie...."
It would have been so easy to ignore that plea, but what would be the point? We would begin arguing, my Dad would overhear and there'd be trouble. So instead I took a deep breath and asked, "Have you had any breakthroughs?"
As usual, he refused to reply. I rolled my eyes and asked instead, "What's the latest in comic book-land?"
This time he spoke. "Faolán's about to learn something Dark about Thora."
I lifted an eyebrow. "You're playing a dangerous game, Mr Kveld-Ulf."
He didn't smile, just replied, "Sometimes life imitates art, but not too closely. This particular plot line had been planned a long time ago."
I stared at him for a long while, and then walked back into the kitchen and took a seat at the table, a plastic rental from a Muggle shop in the area. After a while he came over and joined me, hands folded across his chest, staring at me while I stared down at the table. The silence of the house with the charm my father had cast was slightly unnerving. I could clearly hear our breathing, odd creaks and groans of the house whenever the wind blew, the incessant ticking of a clock someone had brought and, almost, the tension that had descended and would not go away. When I looked my ring was grey. Rigel was right about returning this thing; I didn't need a constant reminder of my emotions on display for all to see.
Connor, apparently not noticing it, reached across the table for my hand. Feeling like yielding for once-it was going to be a long night in this place-I let him take it, he turned it palm up and began tracing the lines with his other hand. A familiar and welcome thrill flowed from my hand to my heart at his touch.
I asked, "So what am I doing in here with you? I thought I was supposed to come along to offer Milo moral support, and instead we're both locked up in the house with nothing to do but stare at the table. We can't even hear what's going on outside. No offence, but if this is what your Dad meant by showing me what you do here, it isn't much. Don't you bring a game usually? Or do you just sit here playing with your wand?"
I nearly blushed at that unintentional innuendo, and he had the grace to ignore it when he replied without looking up, still tracing the lines in my palm, "You ask a lot of questions. When they come out in the morning... you'll see."
"This is boring," I said, taking back my hand to fold my arms across my chest.
He gave an odd smile. "You're more like my cousin than I thought."
I said nothing to this and he offered nothing himself so that we soon lapsed into an awkward silence.
Within ten minutes I was going stir crazy. I started tapping my leg on the floor and drumming my fingers on the tabletop until Connor said, "That's very annoying."
I didn't stop, instead I asked, "Hey, what do you think about going to Malfoy Manor? I see that your Mum's not too happy."
He replied, "Not much, until we had lunch with your parents and the Weasleys' I'd been actively under the impression that I wasn't going. It was news to me that I was, and especially considering that Mrs Malfoy still refuses to acknowledge my parents. As I recall though, I don't remember your father being too pleased either."
"He isn't, but he's letting me use magic while I'm there in case of trouble," I said.
"I'm not allowed," he said.
I was so surprised by this announcement that I actually stopped moving so that he had to explain, "They don't want me to do anything to provoke her."
I said, "I doubt that there's anything you can do that wouldn't provoke her."
He shrugged. "They just don't want to take any chances."
I started tapping again, and then Connor said, "If I asked nicely, would you please stop doing that?"
I shook my head and then asked, "So why don't you want me at the house with you when Stanislav and Svetlana come over?"
He looked at me understandably confused. I explained, "I saw that look you gave when your Dad asked for me to come over when they're in town. What, afraid that Stanislav may steal me away? The answer to that is if he tries it he's going to win, you're cute but he's hot. Or is it Svetlana? Does Lana know that I'm your girlfriend? Have you been secretly two-timing me? Or her...?"
He rolled his eyes, exhaled loudly and said, "I love you. There's no one else. Yes, Svetlana is a beautiful girl, but so is Camilla and I'm not interested in her either. It's just you, it's always been you."
I stared at him open-mouthed. My brain had disengaged somewhere after he said the opening three words and I barely heard anything else. My heart was racing wildly in my chest, I was sure that at any given moment it was going to give out. So I stuttered stupidly, "Y-you... wh-wait what did...." I stopped and started over, "You love me?"
He looked down at the tabletop, suddenly shy. But I was grinning, and said, "You love me... I-I never thought I'd hear you say that... I never thought that I'd hear anyone say that.... Wait, was that just a ploy to distract me from the fact that Camilla's your cousin so fancying her is just ick? Or that you haven't really answered my first question?"
He grinned and looked up through his fringe. "No, I-I do, I do love you. As annoying, unrelenting and amazing as you are, I do."
He still hadn't answered my question, but my thoughts had gone elsewhere. I knew that I was supposed to say something then, that was the way it usually went, but I couldn't. I was still in shock, and then as I went over it in my mind, I found that I just couldn't say it back. And I didn't even know why.
Connor though, didn't seem to notice. He went ahead to answer my first question, "And believe me, the last place I'd want to discuss out-loud something that top secret is at my house. My father's a werewolf; the Aurors must have had that place bugged since we first moved in. I'm sorry if you think I don't want you there, it's just that, if you show up, if there's anyone around to spying for you they're going to get the report of a career when they see Stan and Lana."
"Okay," I said. "I'll see what I can come up wit-"
He cut in quickly, "No-no-no, I don't mean don't come... I was just saying that if they notice you or Stan and Lana then we'll have a problem. I didn't say don't come over, I like when you're over."
I laughed and said, "You're so easy to love, you know that?" It was the closest I was going to get to responding in kind to his declaration. When, no how, did we get to this point?
He seemed to accept my answer as such anyway, smiling broadly for a moment. And then his eyes widened and he said, "Oh no... if my Mum or your Dad heard that...."
I grinned. "I doubt it, they'd be through the door by now... or at least my Dad would. And I don't want to think about that because he's ruining the moment."
Connor said, "Yeah, that would ruin the moment."
Curiously, neither he nor I attempted to move any closer to each other, even just to hold each other's hands. We instead just sat staring across the tabletop at each other and smiling. That was good, my heartbeat hadn't slowed and I needed the time to recover. And then I felt his foot hook my ankle and pull so that I slipped slightly in my seat. I yelped and grabbed the tabletop to stop myself from sliding off my chair.
"Oh funny," I said, and using both feet, pulled back on him.
He didn't budge much, but he did start a little and exclaim, "You're stronger than you look."
"Well you don't have to sound so surprised," I grumbled half-heartedly.
He tried to make a straight face. "No, it's just... you don't look that strong. But I should have known, you pulled my deadweight up onto your broom and flew with me unconscious on your back all the way from my house to Hogsmeade village on one of the coldest nights of last winter. With you appearances can be very deceiving."
I thought, but did not say, as with you. Aloud I said instead, "Well... I don't like to toot my own horn but... you know."
Then he said, "You're the coolest girlfriend I've ever met... my hero-ine."
I don't know what made me ask then, "You've ever...? You had a girlfriend before me? I thought I was the first?"
And I don't know what made him respond, "Yes, but she-" Then he realised what he had said and fell silent. Of course it was much too late.
I sat staring at him stunned, floored and completely shocked. Connor had had a girlfriend before me? Well, of course, he was in Hogwarts a whole year before I was and I didn't really interact with him before we started talking last winter.... But still the impromptu confession was very surprising, and so my next question was quite logical.
"Who was she?"
He made to respond, and from the stammering he began with I could tell that he wasn't planning on talking about it, when the door opened and my father walked in. Connor fell silent at once and I groaned at Dad. When he shot me a surprised and suspicious look, I amended, "Hi Dad... I thought you guys couldn't come in unless we let you?"
Turning to look at Connor, he replied, "Oh no, we could come in if we want to, it's just Lupin, Milo and intruders who can't.... What are you two up to?"
Under the table I felt Connor surreptitiously disentangle his foot from mine and slide them beneath his chair. I replied, "Nothing, just talking."
"Just talking?" asked Dad, turning to me now with a raised eyebrow.
"Yeah... you know it's what people do when they want to catch up... have nothing else to do?" I replied.
He said nothing to this, seeming to take the time instead to assess my answer, and then he said, "I just came in to check in on you, wanted to make sure that everything was alright."
I felt mischievous. "Or you were hoping to come in and catch us snogging so you could send me home and yell at Connor?"
He didn't answer. He just glared at me and Connor both and then turned around and walked out, locking and sealing the door again behind him. And as soon as he was gone we burst out laughing.
Between chuckles I managed, "He trusts to send me all the way to Malfoy Manor, the home of a known Death Eater and Dark Arts-lover, friends and loyal supporters of the belated Tom Riddle, but he's afraid to leave me alone with you when he's right outside the door? Can someone explain that logic?"
Connor said, "He's your Dad. And I've got hands... legs... raging hormones.... Besides, Mrs Malfoy would be scandalised at the thought of her precious grandson fraternising with the enemy more than is necessary."
I laughed, and Connor, sensing weakness, continued to take the mickey on Rigel until I began to protest that he was my friend and I shouldn't hear it. Then he began to do impressions and I laughed some more and almost completely forgot about his former girlfriend, my intruding father and Milo and Uncle Lupin....
Connor and I spent most of the rest of the night in the kitchen, while Dad and Aunt Tonks took turns coming in to check up on us at regular intervals. When we realised a pattern we turned it into a game, trying to come up with new and interesting compromising situations for them to stumble in on. Aunt Tonks mostly just laughed it off, and especially if she was coming in for a snack or something to eat, but Dad seemed to get increasingly angry, until, on his last visit, he ordered us to separate sleeping bags on opposite ends of the living room.
We heard nothing whatsoever from the shed whenever the door was opened for them to go in or out, and as neither offered updates even when I demanded them outright, I could only speculate that things were going well and allow Connor to distract me with jokes or mindless conversation. It was the most fun evening we'd had together in a long time, even surpassing that first dinner at his house when we got home for the vacation. When Dad sent us to bed, Connor made a new game of creating floating balls of light like fairy-lights and setting them to dance around the room above us, forming different shapes and stories until at last he was too tired to continue and it stopped. And as soon as he did reality came flooding back as the room was drenched in darkness and thin slivers of the silver-blue moonlight without seeped in through tiny unseen crevices and cracks. Milo was out there in the shed, with Uncle Lupin, yes, but transformed and scared and barely able to cope.
I tried not to think of it, shutting my eyes tight and trying to imagine the balls of light under the ceiling again, but I couldn't escape the thoughts. I didn't even know when I fell asleep. But no sooner than had I that I was being shaken awake again by Connor, saying anxiously, "Come on, wake up, Maggie! It's morning! Wake up; it's time to get Dad and Milo out of the shed!"
He was trying to be gentle but firm at the same time. Evidently he didn't know anything about waking me up, I ignored him and tried to recapture the cool, warm place I had been so blissfully in when I began to hear that tree speaking in his voice.
But he wasn't going to give up either. He continued, "Wake up! Wake up, Maggie! It's time to go! It's morning again! The moon's set!"
I yawned, rolled over and blearily looked up at him. Sure enough the room seemed to be brighter than I remembered it, last night when we playing with the lights, but my sleep-addled brain refused to register what he was saying. My voice was hoarse and cracked when I asked, "What?"
He smiled. "It's morning; it's time to get Milo and Dad out of the shed."
I sat up at once and tried to get out of my sleeping bag, but couldn't. I was quite aware that I smelled like sleep though, dried sweat and the sleeping bag's fabric and just a little bit of drool. Oh I hoped that I hadn't been drooling.
Connor, standing at my side, asked, "What's wrong?"
I tried to get up again, succeeded, and replied when I was standing before him, said, "Sorry, tired."
Connor didn't look it, though I doubted very much that he'd slept longer than me, and replied brightly, "That's okay, we're going home now. You'll be much more comfortable in your own bed."
I thought of Milo the evening before and doubted that.
The door opened in the kitchen and my father entered with Milo, wrapped up in a blanket, once again nearly hairless and said, "Connor, your parents want you. Tell them Lillie and I have gone home with Milo."
I looked at my little brother asleep in his arms. The blanket covered his body so I could see no damage, but on the cheek exposed to view there was a scratch, light, but bleeding slightly. I was wide awake in an instant.
"Okay," said Connor behind me, but I barely heard him. I was thinking about the other scratches that could be spread across Milo's skin under that blanket.
Dad said, "Good, go on. We're taking the Floo." Then I noticed that there was something odd about his voice, and the way that he held Milo.
Connor, noticing nothing, gave my hand a gentle squeeze before heading out. I obediently followed Dad to the fireplace where he quickly got the Floo up and working and said, "Go in first, tell your mother I'm coming in so get ready."
"It's bad isn't it?" I asked, still staring at Milo in his arms.
He replied with pain, "Yes."
I stepped into the fireplace with a fistful of Floo Powder and called clearly, "Potter House, Godric's Hollow!"
When I emerged on the other side my mother sat up on the sofa and asked anxiously, "How's Milo?"
"Dad said to get ready," I replied.
She stumbled out of her seat at once to come to the fireplace, saying absently to me, "Go upstairs, have a bath and go to bed. And take Mackenzie with you."
I looked over her shoulder in surprise to find my very sleepy-looking sister on the sofa she'd been seated on.
"Okay," I replied, anything not to see his injuries and feel terrible at the memory that Connor and I had been playing games while he was suffering. I walked at once to the chair. "C'mon Kenzie, bedtime."
She protested, "No, I'm staying here until Milo comes back."
The fireplace roared behind me and we heard Dad say, "I hope you have a bathtub-full of Murtlap Essence."
Mum replied, "Upstairs. How's Remus?"
I couldn't help myself, I turned around to look, but Mum had thrown another blanket across Milo and they were already past the sofa heading for the stairs.
Dad replied, "He's tired, but okay. I think he spent most of the night trying to stop Milo from-"
He stopped himself, but not soon enough. I demanded, "He was trying to stop Milo from doing what?"
He did not answer, but Mum was curious too. She arrested his movement with a firm hand on his arm. "Harry...?"
He stopped, swallowed and then said, "Not here."
She looked back over at Mackenzie and me at the sofa and then nodded. Without another word, but the unspoken command that we were not to follow, they hurried upstairs to attend to Milo's wounds. They didn't need to tell me though, I could guess: Milo had probably been attacking himself. But the Wolfsbane Potion was supposed to prevent that, you're supposed to be in control of your mind.... For him to attack himself he would have had to know full well what he was doing.
I stopped and tried to suppress the thought, horrified. To think that Connor and I had been laughing and joking and playing games.... I quickly stomped on that thought too.
Mackenzie meanwhile, was oblivious. After hopelessly looking between me and our parents as they disappeared up the stairs for a few minutes, she asked, "What happened to Milo?"
I couldn't tell her, so I half-lied, "He had a bad night. H-he got hurt in the shed."
I looked down at her and saw that she knew that I had lied, but, surprising for her, she did not press me on it. Instead, she just slipped off the chair and started to head upstairs.
I watched her go and hoped she would go to her room and not try to eavesdrop, though this was Mackenzie so that was unlikely. I started to follow then, but barely saw where I was going, deeply distracted by my thoughts.
There was no other explanation. A werewolf without Wolfsbane, without someone else to attack, would attack himself, which was Uncle Lupin had told us when he first explained what had happened to him. A werewolf on Wolfsbane would, according to Uncle Lupin, sit around idly waiting for moonset. If Milo had attacked himself, for Uncle Lupin would have committed suicide before going after my little brother, then he did so knowing full well what he was doing. Like I'd been thinking on the steps that afternoon, that if it was me I would have found a way to kill myself already at just the thought of undergoing that transformation....
The blood flowing through my veins then felt loaded with sharp chips of ice.
*****
I surprised myself by falling asleep as soon as I'd finally gotten the chance to get into bed. It took ten minutes of intense whispered arguing to get Mackenzie away from our parents' bedroom and an hour to be sure that she was in bed and asleep before I could have a bath. I took one last check-in to find her peaceful, another to see that my parents were still locked up in their room with Milo and then went back to my room, steadfastly trying not to think of what I'd sussed.
I yawned all through feeding Ophelia and reading the message she'd brought overnight: it was Rigel reminding me to bring a gift and protesting furiously that his mother was actually going out with Dean Thomas that weekend. It took all of four seconds for me to decide that it was not worthy of response and I went to bed. I was prepared to sit there for the rest of the day, listening intently for any sound that indicated my little brother had taken a turn for the worse and I was going to lose him, and then trying to distract myself with thoughts on how much fun it was to spend time with Connor, given the circumstances, last night, but that didn't happen. The sky without was clouded over pale grey and the air was refreshingly cool as it blew through my bedroom window. Resistance was futile, hours later my mother woke me to come down for a late lunch.
I sat up with a start and asked, "Did Milo tell you why he hurt himself?"
I didn't even think about the question. I didn't even know I was thinking it. My mother stopped half-way out the door but said nothing, and then she stepped back into the room and closed it. When she turned around she asked in reply, "What did you see last night?"
"Nothing," I replied, honestly. "Dad and Aunt Tonks had us locked up in the house and we couldn't hear a thing. I saw the scratch and I heard what Dad said though."
For a moment I was going to elaborate, but I remembered my promise to Milo that I would never reveal what I'd overheard in the graveyard. I desperately wished I hadn't made that promise though.
Unaware of this, Mum said, "No, he didn't say anything. He refused to talk. Do you know anything about this?"
I wanted to say yes and spill the beans right there, but I knew that would do nothing for Mum's nerves. I shook my head and asked, "What are you and Dad going to do about it?"
"We're going to take him to Werewolf Support Services and then find a counsellor," Mum replied. "He needs somebody to talk to about this... that isn't me... that isn't us...."
She suddenly looked much older than her thirty-four years and then more than a little lost and helpless. I could see the pain etched in every line that appeared and when I thought of what I knew it made me feel terribly guilty. When I thought of how last night had gone I felt even worse.
I don't know where it came from but I suddenly couldn't help it. My eyes began to sting and well up with tears, I clenched my throat to block a sob but then had to put a shaking hand to my mouth to try to stop myself from crying. The tears spilled over anyway, and then were wiped away by Mum's shirt as she embraced me.
"Oh no, no Lillie, no don't cry. Milo's going to be fine; we're not going to let this destroy him. Voldemort couldn't take your father away from me, this isn't going to take my son," she replied defiantly. Then she kissed my hair and continued, "You have to be brave, Milo's stronger than he looks."
I said into her shirt, "But he's just like you, and Dad said you used to get flustered." It was the closest I could get to letting on what Milo had said.
She didn't seem to catch it. Instead she pinched me in playful retaliation, then squeezed me tightly for a moment and replied, "Everybody gets scared, even your father, but it just makes him fight. As much of me there is in Milo, there's of his father too, this is not going to destroy him."
"But he's just a little boy!" I wailed. "He's little and scared and shouldn't have to face all this...."
"Oh don't worry Lillie, please... he'll be fine..." she said, still concentrating on trying to comfort me and not picking up what I meant. I resigned myself to accepting that she wouldn't get it like this, that I would just have to tell Dad and break my promise to Milo there, and just held onto her for a while trying to convince myself of what she was saying. Then she said, "Now c'mon, your food is cold."
She waited while I dried my face and then helped me off my bed and we walked together to the stairs, where she left me to go eat while she talked to Dad again. I took a few moments more to compose myself in case Mackenzie or Milo was down there, not wanting them to worry or giveaway anything, and then headed down. But when I got downstairs it was to discover Milo and Sophie in the living room deep in conversation, and he bore almost no evidence of the violence of the night before. It was so surprising that I remained in the living room staring at him for so long that he looked up at me confused. I gave myself a mental shake and said, "Lo Sophie, what's up?"
She looked up at me too and replied, "Not much, but Eugenie's friends have been stalking Connor. I heard them telling her that he wasn't home yesterday and then discussing you. It wasn't pretty."
I shrugged. "Yeah, but he still doesn't care about her."
She grinned and I left for the kitchen, marvelling now at Milo's almost complete turnaround from yesterday. I was even more amazed that Sophie hadn't begun to suss out that something wasn't quite right with us. But as I walked into the kitchen it was to find Rigel there eating my lunch. And he said when I entered, "I forgot you weren't here last night."
Forgoing the question of how he got here and hoping there really wasn't any trace of how upset I was moments before, I pulled out a chair, dropped into it and said, "So let me guess, you've decided to come complain about your Mum and Dean in person."
He took a large bite out of my sandwich, chewed slowly, swallowed, drank some of my apple juice and then replied, "No, I just wanted to make sure that you and Milo were okay."
I was impressed, but not by much. "And my lunch had what to do with that?"
"It was getting cold, you shouldn't eat cold food," he replied casually and then took another bite.
"I was going to reheat it," I said.
"You shouldn't do that either," he said.
Same old Rigel. I got up to go make myself something while he polished off what was left. As I dug through the fridge, he asked, "What happened with you and the cub last night?"
I turned to look at him. "You know I'm not going to answer that. And didn't your mother talk to you about calling him that? I'm going to start taking offence."
He shrugged. "She's not here, and you won't."
I rolled my eyes and turned back to the fridge. Then I said, "Actually we just sat around waiting for the moon set. There was almost nothing else to do; I didn't think to bring a game or anything. But then I guess I wasn't expecting my Dad to just lock us up in the house all night."
I didn't have to look at him to know that Rigel was goggling at my back, his next question confirmed it.
"Your Dad locked you two up in the house, alone?" he asked, clearly stunned.
I sighed. "Waiting out the moon for my little brother and his Dad to turn back into human beings didn't exactly make for a romantic setting."
He was back at his usual feigned indifference with his next question. "I know, but Uncle Harry actually locked the two of you up in that house alone for the night?"
As I selected the bread, ham and cheese for my sandwich I replied, "Yes, he did. You could have been there, it was quite boring seeing as we couldn't hear anything that was going on outside."
"Grandmother would have never allowed it," he said. "But don't worry; our weekend is going to be anything but dull. Unfortunately Bijou managed to confirm her invitation but I've got a few things arranged to make sure that she regrets it."
I turned back to him. "What did you do?"
"Nothing," he replied, patting his mouth with a napkin. "But I have to say, it is so easy to get lost in Malfoy Manor it's a wonder your parents could have found their way around in it when they did."
I turned to my sandwich again. "Rigel Weasley, my goodness you're a terrible person. Are you sure Ginny Weasley is your mother?"
"Yes, you don't know my mother as well as you should," he replied. "Besides, Bijou Zabini is annoying and boring. How could Grandmother want me to be friends with someone like that? You on the other hand, you're not boring or annoying at all. No matter how much you protest, at the end of the day you still join in."
I don't know why, but somehow that sounded like a condemnation.
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