A Werewolf's Clothes

Ginny looked at the office door with a mixture of trepidation and subtle yearning. Chewing her lower lip, she glanced up at Madam Pomfrey, noting that the goblet she was carrying was still steaming, and tried to find reassurance in the older witch’s eyes or expression. Something to tell her that it was all right.

“He’s perfectly safe, Miss Weasley, and he said that it was perfectly acceptable if you wanted to spend the evening with him,” she said kindly. “Just try not to be seen by anyone when you leave,” Pomfrey added before turning and walking down the moon-lit corridor, presumably back to the hospital wing.

Ginny took a deep calming breath before reaching for the door knob and letting herself into the defense professor’s office.

“Perfectly safe,” she repeated silently to herself as she walked inside and closed the door behind her.

At first she thought the office was empty, that there had been some miscommunication, but then she looked toward an open door that presumably led to the more private rooms belonging to Professor Lupin and saw that there was a fire crackling in the hearth and a large rather indistinct form lying on the rug. She stepped into the doorway and paused.

A very shaggy werewolf with gray fur was curled up with his head on his paws, seeming to watch the fire as he lay there. Every now and then, its tail would wag, thudding softly against the rug. Despite the wolf’s size, and what he was, Ginny didn’t think he looked terribly frightening, not at all like she imagined.

The werewolf turned his head and looked toward the door where she stood. He sniffed the air. She smiled and took a cautious step forward. The werewolf made a slight whining sound as though inviting her forward.

“Good evening ... Remus,” she said uncertainly. She still wasn’t accustomed to calling him by his first name, though he often encouraged his favorite sixth year student to do just that.

He made another keening sound as she approached and rested his head on his paws again. Ginny thought he looked tired and then remembered how painful the transformations were for him. She sat down on the beside him. For an instant she hesitated, then she began gently stroking the fur on his back.

“Is that all right?” she asked hesitantly.

Remus looked up at her with his sad golden eyes and turned onto his side toward her, resting his back against her thigh and his head on her knee. That was permission enough for Ginny. She smiled and continued brushing her fingers through his soft, almost silky gray fur.

His eyes closed as she stroked his side, feeling him take deep breaths and enjoying the warmth of his fur and skin on such a cold January night. He seemed almost to be smiling, obviously enjoying it as well. Ginny didn’t think, even after the Wolfsbane Potion had been invented, that very many people had taken the time to keep Remus company during the full moon or taken care of him afterward. She was glad he had given her this chance to at least see to the former.

A few minutes later he made a soft whining sound as her fingers touched the place where Peter Pettigrew’s silver hand had burned him. She didn’t realize that it still caused him pain all these months later. She carefully avoided the bald, scarred patch of skin and stroked his muzzle instead, making a soft hushing sound as she did so.

She had seen the wound, a swath of bleached white skin just below his navel, when he was in human form too. He had shown it to Harry at the Burrow during Christmas holidays, but both wizards had failed to note her presence on the stairs, silently, curiously watching them. She had crept back up to her room nearly in tears at the thought of Remus, the kindest and most gentle man she had ever known, being hurt like that.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to the werewolf. He licked her hand and moved to hide the injury better. She kept well away from the area as she continued to pet his fur.

As she did this, Ginny looked around the dimly lit sitting room, noticing a pile of clothes, neatly folded, on the sofa behind them. At first she couldn’t figure out what they were doing there. Then a faint blush crept in to her cheeks as she realized that unlike an Animagus, whose clothing changed with their bodies and became part of their animal forms, werewolves usually tore their clothing when they transformed, unless they removed what they were wearing beforehand as Remus obviously had.

“Professor Lupin’s completely naked!” she realized, feeling vaguely shocked, and certainly surprised, at the realization.

Remus nudged her hand with his snout, drawing her attention away from the clothing on the sofa, and gave her a slightly questioning look, cocking his head to one side.

“Erm... are you cold?” Ginny asked awkwardly, mentally cursing the heat in her face, which must have been a brilliant shade of red.

Remus looked over his shoulder at the robes and under things and then at Ginny. The expression in his yellow eyes turned from puzzled to sad more rapidly than she thought possible. He crawled away from her a bit and resumed staring into the fire with his head resting on the rug. She could understand the gesture quite well: she had embarrassed him.

“Remus ...” she began to say, reaching toward him again. He moved away from her hand and gave her a rather serious look before returning his gaze to the fire. “He must think I’m very immature and stupid. I’m not. I just didn’t think about him not having anything on. I’m not afraid of him being a werewolf or anything. That should count for something, shouldn’t it?” Ginny thought miserably to herself as she continued to look at him.

The fire crackled in the hearth as she tried to think of what to say to her professor and friend to make up for her slight faux pas. Such a small thing. Or it was to her. But to him, she decided, it represented one more judgment passed upon him because of his lycanthropy. Not a reason to hate or fear him perhaps, but it was something that caused him shame. She could tell.

Words wouldn’t fix this. Not until they could both speak them again. But Ginny thought there was a way to make him feel more comfortable and less embarrassed by her reaction to this particular aspect of his condition. She began unbuttoning her robes.

She noticed that his eyes were closed and that he was apparently dozing as she slipped the school robes from her shoulders and folded them neatly and carefully and set them next to his on the sofa. The robes looked very rumpled by comparison. One of his ears twitched as she took off her shoes and set them beside the sofa, stuffing her socks into them after she had them off too.

Ginny nearly lost her nerve as she unbuttoned her skirt, but if only one thing could be said of Miss Weasley, it was that once she started something, she finished it. She slid her skirt over her hips and stepped out of it. The room was surprising cool, even with the fire nearby and the shutters closed. The sitting room was just naturally drafty, which was no surprise as much of the castle was prone to drafts.

Taking off the blouse was a bit easier, though she found that she couldn’t quite fold it as neatly as Remus had folded the gray Oxford he had been wearing earlier that day. Of course, he had had years of practice, even before Wolfsbane was invented, as he never had enough money and couldn’t afford to rip a shirt per month to shreds. Ginny was more accustomed to talking off a blouse and just tossing it in a laundry hamper.

She was beginning to shiver as she unlaced her plain white brassiere, covering her breasts with her left arm as she placed the item with the rest of her clothing. She admonished herself silently as she began blushing again. But there was nothing for it. She had never been naked in a room with a man before, and even if Remus looked liked a wolf at the moment, he was still very much a man to her too.

After a few moment’s hesitation, Ginny slipped her knickers off too and tossed them on top of her pile of clothing, which was not half so neat as Remus’s. Then she stretched out next to him on the rug, lying on her stomach, savoring the warmth of the fire, and trying not to feel uncomfortable about the situation. The latter part wasn’t easy, though she did feel an odd thrill of excitement as his warm fur brushed her bare thigh and side.

Remus opened his eyes and looked at her face, which was only a few inches from his muzzle. The expression was still sad and somber, but sleepy too. Then he blinked and toppled over onto his opposite side, obviously realizing that his student was missing something, her robes, for instance. He made a quiet, confused sound as his eyes widened. Again, Ginny was struck by how easy it was to read his expressions.

“I thought ... since you were ... that maybe if I took off my clothes too ... maybe you would have to feel embarrassed or anything ... because I never meant for you to feel that way,” Ginny stammered, turning on her side too. If werewolves could laugh, she thought he might have.

He climbed to his paws with some effort and lay down next to her, licking her cheek as he did so. He also tried, largely unsuccessfully, to avoid looking at any part of her below her neck, which did not escape her notice. Ginny giggled as she nuzzled closer to him against the cold. Remus allowed it, snuggling against her too to make them more comfortable.

She resumed stroking his fur just as before, looking into his golden eyes as she did so. There was an expression in them that she could not identify that was at once both curious and puzzled, and yet amused as well. Happy too, she decided. His eyes were never quite so expressive when he was in human form. Or else Ginny had never been given an opportunity to look so deeply into them. She smiled, and Remus nosed at her cheek with his snout and cold, damp nose.

“Can I sleep here tonight, Remus?” she asked him. “Please?”

He didn’t answer, but instead he closed his eyes and rested his head against her chest. She stayed awake for a long while, stroking his fur and thinking of many things, before falling asleep too.

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