Christmas on the Dai Llewellyn Ward

Poor old chap. He knew what sort of trouble he would be getting into, after he had received the bite. And yet, he still had no idea . . ..

Remus Lupin, with hands in his pockets, had been talking happily to Arthur Weasley. Mr. Weasley had not let his spirits fall, despite being placed in St. Mungo's for a snake bit. Arthur, as he had done a million times earlier that day, consoled everyone about his injury. He felt as right as rain, and could only grumble about the uncomfortable bandages on his slightly swollen body. Harry, however, still looked bothered by this turn of events. According to the boy, Harry felt as if he were responsible for injuring Arthur Weasley. His claims that he had been inside the snake's mind when the accident had occurred were troubling . . .

However, while everyone was waiting for some sort of resolution on that mystery, they were very distracted by Arthur describing the Muggle process of using stitches on a wound. The children all snorted quietly into their fists while Mrs. Weasley shrieked at the mere thought of such a thing. Remus, however, kept turning and looking at the man in the bed across from Arthur's. Several times, during the during the duration of the visit, Remus had seen the fellow looking dispiritedly at the crowd surrounding Mr. Weasley out of the corner of his eye. He allowed himself a sad smile.

---

During the packed ride to the hospital, Hermione had referred to the man sharing the room with Arthur Weasley. At their previous visit, Arthur had mentioned to his guests that the patient had received a werewolf bite just very recently. Hermione, who had taken to talking to her former professor about lycanthropy since the summer, had figured that Lupin would be interested to know this before hand.

"He was just bitten," mumbled Hermione, sliding sharply into Lupin's side while the car made a quick turn. "I felt rather bad - all he did was stare at the ceiling the whole time-"

"Mundungus!" cried Molly Weasley, as she knocked heads with her oldest son, Bill. "The roads are clear! Do you at least think you could slow down?!" Lupin winced slightly, as all that was separating him from Molly's cries was a perturbed Bill Weasley. He rubbed the back of his head and looked back down at Hermione.

"It really is a difficult think to accept, Hermione." He lowered his eyelids slightly. "What would you expect - Sorry!" He had elbowed Hermione's side accidentally. She made no note of this, while Molly started her berating of Mundungus Fletcher again.

"Well, I know that," the girl replied, slightly huffing. "I mean, it's quite obviously so. I figured it would be much like the stages of grief: denial, resentment, bargaining, depression, acceptance... you know..."

"I suppose," said Lupin, turning his head and looking out the window beyond Hermione. He was feeling uncomfortable, having being told how to feel about his problems by some fifteen-year-old who had never been through all of the trouble he had. Still, Remus thought, I can't be mad at her. She is trying to empathize.

Hermione sensed she had struck a nerve. "I'm sorry," she apologized, staring down at her fingers. "I know it's a personal thing that I just cannot relate to ... "

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about it, Hermione. I'm just a miserable, old crone." Lupin grinned at Hermione, and she returned it. She then hurriedly turned to Ginny and started to chat with her, leaving Remus alone to think.

--

And just as Hermione had said, there was the man who had received the bite, flashing quick glances at the party standing by Arthur Weasley. Remus frowned. The bloke didn't have a single person solacing him, and not even a card on the table by his side, like the woman on the bed by the door did. The Healers had placed a thistle of holly on the end of his bed in an attempt to cheer the patient, but it didn't appear to be helping in the least bit.

'Perhaps he has no family,' Lupin remarked to himself. His eyebrows furrowed in disgust. 'Or maybe he does and they've already given up on him.' Lupin immediately felt as if a stone of guilt had dropped in his stomach. At least when he was bitten, his parents were supportive. Some, or rather, many people, were not so accepting. 'The least I can do is wish him a Happy Christmas.'

By that time, nearly everyone else had left a miffed Mrs. Weasley to deal with her husband on the matter of 'these stitches'. Lupin figured it wouldn't hurt to leave their side for a few minutes. He looked back at the indisposed man. They made brief eye contact, and the man slightly jumped before he shifted his eyes back to the whitewashed ceiling. Lupin crossed over to him.

"Happy Christmas," he murmured gently. The man didn't acknowledge him at all. He began to hum to himself, his shadowed eyes darting around. Upon closer inspection, Lupin noticed that the man looked to be four or five years younger than he was. His auburn hair was unkempt and his face was unshaven. The man's skin had a pale green tinge to it as well, and his eyes were large and full of despair. Above his bed, there was a small nameplate that read 'Rowland Bishop'. The moniker sounded familiar, but he could not place it. Lupin sighed.

"I said 'Happy Christmas'," repeated Lupin patiently. The man shut his eyes and a crease formed in his brow.

"And I say 'feck off!'" Lupin's eyebrows raised slightly and the man snorted.

"You could at least have wished me one in return," Lupin remarked, slightly smiling. "But unless that's how you feel . . ."

"Feck off,' muttered Rowland again. He turned his narrow head a bit and stared at Remus. "Look, can't you just leave me alone? I've had enough with people gawking or patronizing me. I don't even know you."

Lupin pushed his graying hair out of his eyes. "If I was patronizing or gawking, I certainly didn't mean to. But I beg your pardon. You were the one who kept looking over at us." The man heaved a heavy, annoyed sighed.

"I was making sure that twit over there wasn't talking about me again," grumbled Rowland, rolling his eyes to indicate Mr. Weasley. "He was trying to get chummy with me after he found out why I had the misfortune to be here. And now all he's done is tell all of his friends why I'm lying here. I suppose you already know," he spat acidly.

"Actually . . . Yes," answered Lupin. He didn't remark upon the fact that Mr. Bishop had been staring quite longingly at the Weasley party. He figured it would only upset the man even more. Rowland widened his eyes at Lupin's response.

"The clod." The patient shot his eyes back up at the ceiling. "I suppose you've come to stare or get your kicks. Well, go on! At least you're sticking around! My wife didn't even bother to tell me off! Took the bloody kid and fecking ran. Feck the wife." Lupin couldn't respond. He looked down at his shoes, which were starting to feel rather snug, as was his jumper that Mrs. Weasley had knitted for him. "Kick me while I'm down. Go on! Someone has to do it. I told that Weasley character I'd bite him if he tried getting chummy again. Trying to tell me he had a friend - whats-his-face was managing to get by with being a werewolf. I suppose I should have done it." He pounded the biceps of his fist on his right thigh. "In fact, if you don't piss off somewhere, I might just bite you." At this, Lupin allowed himself a sardonic grin.

"Give me your best shot and then some," he said enthusiastically.

"Pardon?"

"I want you to give me your best show," Lupin answered. "Just to see if you are all bull and no balls. I don't like it when people accuse Mr. Weasley of lying. He does have a friend who has managed to get by with being a werewolf. And," he continued, as he leaned closer to Rowland Bishop, "You just happen to be telling him to 'fuck off.'"

Rowland turned a deep shade of red at this revelation and looked down at the crisp sheet that was covering his body. He tugged at the sleeve of his plaid pajamas. "I'm sorry," he mouthed.

It was Remus Lupin's turn to be flushed. He hated it when people apologized to him. It had been the second time that day that he had made some inexperienced person uncomfortable about his problems, and he felt like a right bastard for doing so.

"Look,' Remus sighed, feeling defeated. "You don't need to apologize. I should be the one feeling ashamed. I was giving you a hard time when I knew you didn't need it."

"No," said Rowland in a small voice, turning away. "I suppose it is a bit funny to think about. And you're intentions were good and what not." He sniffled slightly. "I just don't want to believe it. I don't want to believe that this is all happening to me, and that my life hasn't change, and that I can still go to work and see my wife and boy and all of the other dandy things in a stable life. Yet I don't want to believe what those shitehead Healers keep telling me about living a relatively normal life. Times will change for me . . . I just wish I could fall asleep forever and end this confusion."

"I know, mate," said Remus quietly. He couldn't think of much else to say. In all honesty, he couldn't lie and say that things would still be great from now on. Quite the opposite, actually. Things would take a turn for the worse, and there was no getting around to saying otherwise. True, Lupin himself had accepted it and lived on. But he couldn't help but wonder how things might have unfolded if he hadn't been so careless as a child. There was such a flood of emotion running through him, such a strong remembrance of when he first had to face the adult world as a werewolf, that all he could continue to do was repeat "I know" under his breath again and again.

"It's not going to get better, is it?" questioned Mr. Bishop as he stared at and flexed his fingers. Lupin looked up suddenly.

"Not really, I'm afraid." He honestly wished he could have been a bit sweeter about the truth, but Lupin found that being curt was the best way to spare betrayed feelings.

"I figured as much," responded Rowland, trying not to sound disappointed. His voice seemed to be thick with tears, so he cleared his throat. "What, with all of that werewolf legislature that 'oul Umbridge bitch whipped up not too long ago, on top of everything else I've read about the regulation of werewolves and whatnot."

"Umbridge is teaching at Hogwarts, you know," Lupin added sinisterly. He felt himself go hot at the thought of that ignorant hag. "Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"You don't say!" Rowland crossed his arms. "I'm certainly glad she wasn't around when I was there! She sounds like an awful termagant."

"Hmph," Lupin murmured, obviously sounding displeased. "I'll second that motion." The two werewolves laughed bitterly at this and went silent for a few minutes, listening to the two Weasleys talk away.

" --Well, Arthur, dear, I suppose I should be rounding up everyone," Molly finally said, her high-pitched voice filling every inch of the ward. She leaned over and kissed her beloved on the cheek. "You rest up, dear."

"I will, Molly," Arthur grinned. "I feel fit as fiddle and wish I could go home. Don't worry about me anymore, or you'll end up sending yourself here as well." Moody, who had been sitting in the corner of the room in a chair, let out a hoarse laughter. Remus nearly jumped. He had forgotten all about Mad-Eye. As far as he could tell, the old Auror had probably heard every bit of his conversation with Rowland Bishop. He blushed slightly at the ears.

"And what?" barked Moody. "Leave those youngsters under our charge! Imagine." He heaved another bit of laughter, and Lupin snickered sheepishly at the thought. Teaching was one thing, but parenting was a whole different subject. "We'll be heading off now, Lupin?" asked Moody, although it was more of an order than a question. He nodded in return as Molly gave her husband one last peck on the lips.

"I'll be going then," Remus said, turning back to Rowland. "You take care of yourself now, Rowland."

"And you, too. Happy Christmas." The man gave Remus a weak, but honest smile. As Lupin started to leave, Mr. Bishop called for him again. "Oi! You! You never told me your name, mate."

"Remus Lupin," answered Lupin evenly. He was beginning to remember that surname of Bishop rather well...

"Lupin? Remus Lupin! Small world!" Rowland sniggered loudly. "I was a second year - Gryffindor - when you were a prefect in your, what, fifth year. You told me off for swearing at a group of girls in their first year and got me in a load of trouble. Ha! What a laugh!" Lupin tittered. "I've never broken the habit, I think. Fecking ironic, eh?"

"Indeed!" Lupin put his hands on his hips and smirked. "But I have to admit ... I had the same problem and still haven't quite managed to break it."

"Well, what do you know? Two peas in a stinkin' pod!" Rowland roared with laughter, and for the first time since Lupin had seen him, looked genuinely happy. "Ah, take care of yourself now, Lupin!"

"And, once again, you too," responded Lupin. He leaned over and whispered in his ear. "And give Arthur Weasley a try. You may seem sullen and all, but he really is trying to be friendly. Not a bad bloke at all." Rowland rolled his eyes slightly, but nodded. Remus grinned and headed out the door. And as he left the dazzling, clean room of the Dai Llewellyn Ward, he could still hear the man prattling to himself in a slightly cheery mood.

"Imagine! A werewolf! And the whole time at school, I thought he was just some smart mouthed wanker! Good man ..." However, there was hint that the joy was fleeting, and Lupin could already hear the melancholy come flying back. The door shut itself on its own, and the chatter died out.

Remus Lupin smiled to himself. Smart-mouthed wanker, eh? He'd have to come back some other time and tell Rowland off again. But right now, it was Christmas, and he would let it slide. Rowland Bishop would have more than his swearing habits to deal with in the years ahead.