Once in a Blue Moon

CHAPTER SIX

Lyca didn't want to wake up; sleep was too good. Here, there was no fear, no pain, no lies, and no would-be boyfriends transforming into monsters with big teeth and foxfire eyes. Here, in the void of her unconsciousness, there was only darkness. It engulfed her in blissful nothingness; an aspersing inundation of life and limb. She felt weightless, as if she was floating in this inky chasm, which refreshed her body and renewed her spirit. Here, she was finally at peace.

But the feeling was too good to last. The forgiving abyss of sleep disseminated, and Lyca grudgingly felt the weight of her body descend on her in full force. She awoke feeling groggy and sick. Lyca tried to sit up, but her frail, exhausted arms collapsed under her weight. Her stomach was tied in a sailor's knot, and the throbbing pain in her calf was almost too much to bear.

Resigned to propping herself up on a pillow, Lyca rubbed her eyes, and took in her new surroundings. She was lying in a bed in the Hospital Wing, concealed by a large, white curtain. She shifted her body in an attempt to see around it, but the increasing discomfort in her leg hindered her efforts. Lyca lifted the covers and shuddered at the dirty legs and blood-soaked bandages she discovered there.

Memories of her near-death, moonlit excursion repeatedly beat against her brain in merciless waves. Her breathing came hard and fast, with each breath raking through her lungs like dry fire. She wiped the beads of cold sweat off her face, forcing deep and steady breathing, in a desperate attempt to stop herself from hyperventilating.

A potential cascade of salty tears welled up in her eyes as she turned to watch a man with a long, silver beard, and half-moon glasses approach her from the opposite side of the curtain. Dumbledore paused at the foot of her bed a particularly sad expression dominating his customarily cheerful face.

"How...bad...is it...Professor?" Lyca asked, choking back sobs.

"I'm sorry, my dear," he replied as he motioned to her affected leg. "You know, as well as I do, that there is nothing we can do to stop this."

Lyca buried her face in her hands; tears slipping silently down her dirt-smudged cheeks. But somehow, despite everything that had happed to her in the past 24 hours, Lyca laughed, and swiped those tears away as quickly as they came. She lifted her head; her blue-purple eyes shining like crystals behind a wall of unshed tears.

"I guess it could be worse," she said with a painful grin. "I could be dead!"

Dumbledore returned Lyca's melancholy smile, coming closer to wrap her in a grizzly hug. "Everything will be alright," he said, with enough confidence for the both of them. Lyca buried her face in his beard, immersing herself in the reassuring smells of treacle fudge and pumpkin juice.

This delicate repose was shattered as two tall, pale-faced adults burst through the hospital doors. They had not taken more than half a dozen steps into the room before exploding in a fit of indignation and outrage.

"You stupid, muggle-loving git," bellowed Mr. Frost at the infuriatingly unfazed Headmaster. "How could you let such a dangerous and disturbing creature anywhere near the castle grounds, let alone allowing it to live and learn here?"

Lyca desperately wanted to defend herself, and (to her surprise) the 'dangerous and disturbing creature' that her father was referring to. It wasn't his fault after all, she thought. I was the one snooping around where I didn't belong...Remus will probably hate me when he finds out what I've done. Despite everything that had happened to her, Lyca still felt the same warm, tender feelings for Remus that she had felt that morning when he kissed her. She still loved him, now more than ever, because she understood him better than anyone.

Lyca opened her mouth to speak, but a cold, hard frown from her mother silenced her. (What Mrs. Frost lacked in words, she made up for in confidence, intimidation, and a vicious backhand slap). She bit her lip to keep herself from yelling back at them, and from defending her school and the people she had come to love and respect. Arguing (especially with her parents) would solve nothing. Besides, if she said something now than they would be sure to make her pay for it later in welts. She had barely survived the previous night's ordeal, and she wasn't about to lose it over a bunch of prejudicial, pureblood objections.

Finally, after listening to Mr. Frost's 10 minute tirade (and Mrs. Frost's subsequent back-biting) about how Hogwarts was going to Hades in a hand basket, Dumbledore calmly replied, "I need to speak with Lyca privately, and if you could please lower your voices, that would be much appreciated by Madame Pomfrey, and the rest of her patients." (Lyca could have kissed the Headmaster for the ensuing looks of ignominy and chagrin that appeared on her parents' faces.)

The Frosts departed with an angry and thoroughly exasperated glare. Mr. Frost's voice rang clearly through the hall as he said; "I knew we should have sent her to Durmstrang!" Mrs. Frost nodded in agreement, glowering at an unseen patient in the bed near the door.

Dumbledore smiled meekly then turned his attention back to Lyca. "You must leave this afternoon," he informed her. "I'm sorry, but Hogwarts doesn't have the capacity to handle two..." Dumbledore lowered his voice, "...Werewolf students, and I cannot, in good conscience and within the confines of Wizard Law, disobey your parents' request to have you withdrawn from the school roster. There is no cure for the condition, as I am sure you already know, and discrimination is always an issue. For your safety, as well as that of Remus and the others, tell no one where you are going. Say goodbye to no one; that includes Severus Snape." Dumbledore (undoubtedly feeling responsible for the entire incident, as well as just being the gentle, kind-hearted man that he is) offered his services should Lyca ever need them, and promised to keep in touch. And giving Lyca's shoulder a concluding squeeze, he strolled towards the Nurse's station and out the double doors.

Lyca just sat there, alone and afraid in her hospital bed. She was alarmed by Dumbledore's words, and petrified by the sudden realization that her life would never be the same. She would probably never see Remus or possibly even Severus, ever again. She couldn't even say goodbye to Remus, and let him know that she didn't blame him for what had happened to her. She still loved him with all her heart and soul, and would continue to do so for the rest of her life.

She couldn't even tell Severus where she was going, and he was sure to be livid once he discovered that she's missing at breakfast. She could expect a letter filled with foul smelling mold, or maybe even a Howler or two, once she got home. She would have A LOT of explaining to do...but wait, she couldn't even do that. If word got out that Remus was a werewolf attending Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and that he had bitten a fellow student (no matter what the circumstances), Dumbledore would be fired, and at best, Remus would be ostracized from the Wizarding world. A more probable conclusion would be his untimely death at the hands of some very, very angry men from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creature. No, better that no one know what had happened. She would suffer knowing the events of this night alone, her knowledge: preserving the Snape and Frost family honor, and keeping her beloved Remus safe from the intolerant wands of the magical world. She would be strong for everyone. She was a Slytherin, after all, and keeping secrets was part of the job description.

Somehow Lyca found the strength to march up to her deserted dormitory. She didn't even have the time or the energy to cry as her parents ordered the Hogwarts House Elves to pack her trunks for her. She hid her emotions behind her blue-purple-colored eyes. It was as if she wasn't even in her own body. She was a ghost, like Peeves or the Bloody Baron, content to watch as the world and its mortal inhabitants moved frantically about her. No matter what her parents did or said to her that night, she would keep that same blank, emotionless stare. She would prove, once and for all, that she could be just as angry, unfeeling, and stubborn as her own parents. She wasn't going to be pushed around by them any longer.

Lyca was quite aware of the sound of their voices, yelling and screaming like harpies; quite aware of their pale, incensed faces arrogant sneers, leering at her in the darkness of their estate; quite aware of the beatings she received from her mother's hand and her father's wand. But she never flinched nor uttered a sound. She kept that face when they snapped her wand; when they canceled her engagement to Severus; when they disowned her; when they threw her out into the streets; and when she set off into the cool darkness, wondering where she was going to spend the night.