Recognition (snippet)

Snippet: Slash: 2207031455: Aimee White

Aimee shuddered, her head clammy and cold. She kicked her duvet off her legs and sat up in her bed, looking past the drapers that covered her four-poster into the Dormitory and the silhouettes of her sleeping school friends.

Throwing her legs over the edge of her mattress, she stood, tiptoeing on the cold stone floor to the basin in the corner of the room. Looking into the mirror, heart thudding unpleasantly in her chest, Aimee had just enough time to see the full moon reflected from the window before an engulfing pain gripped her, forcing her eyes to clamp shut and bringing her to her knees; in too much agony to even cry out.

When she thought the pain would never stop it did, abruptly, and as suddenly as it had come. She shivered in the sudden chill and slowly opened her eyes. The sixteen-year-old girl at first didn't recognise her surroundings at all. Opening her eyes a little further in the streaming sunlight, she saw leaves fluttering above her and realised she must be in the Forest. Her auburn hair was tangled and entwined in the twigs and debris of the Forest floor, and she rolled over, onto her side to pull her hair free from a root. A wave of nausea took hold and she sat up quickly and turned to face the ground, resisting the urge to vomit, but finding it impossible.

Aimee wiped her mouth on her pyjama sleeve and sat up properly, looking around her at the dark trunks and jade foliage of the Forbidden Forest in which she had found herself. She knew no students were allowed in this part of the grounds and she'd be in severe trouble if she was caught, but by the pale pink in the sky and the damp mist lingering in the air, she guessed it was no later than five in the morning and she decided that if she were to hurry, she'd get back in time to remain unnoticed by the rest of her Dormitory.

She was close to tears as she stood and wiped her fingers uselessly on her trousers, mud seemingly over her hands and feet and back as if she'd been crawling through the woodland. Creeping quietly, aware of the danger she was possibly in, she found her way to the edge of the Forest, not far from where she'd awoken.

She looked forlornly up at the castle in which she had spent the last three weeks of her life. Hogwarts was her home, even after such a short time. She had never been at ease in the Boarding School for Orphaned Children where she had been since the death of her parents four years ago, and yet Hogwarts felt like a place where at last, Aimee could belong.

So, it was a shock to her that she was still sleepwalking. At the Muggle School, she'd had her own room, and locked it each night for more privacy and security, but she had also regularly awoken to find it wrecked, clothes torn, books ruined and soggy with water, and lamps smashed. Not that anyone else had known about it, but she assumed she walked in her sleep as a sign of her difficulty in dealing with her parents' deaths. She'd not yet walked at Hogwarts, and the realisation that it was not a problem that was going to go away was upsetting. She knew she was not safe walking around in the huge castle...last nights wanderings were proof of that. The Forest was full of many unfriendly beings, and she wasn't guaranteed to be as lucky next time.

Aimee shuddered at the thought of what could have happened if anything had found her.

Almost running through the corridors of the castle, she whispered the password to the Fat Lady, whom was half asleep, thanking her stars that Filch hadn't seen her creeping through the castle in her pyjamas. Tiptoeing up the stairs to the Fifth Year Girls' Dormitory, she pushed the door open and sprinted across to her bed.

"Alright there, Aimee?" asked Lavender Brown, startling Aimee and setting her heart hammering wildly.

"Uh, yeah, can't sleep..." Aimee stuttered, peering through the drapes at the tousle-haired girl in the bed next to her.

Lavender smiled. "Nah, me neither...you getting up?"

She started to get out of bed, pulling on her dressing gown. Aimee followed suit, glad that Lavender apparently hadn't seen her enter the Dormitory.

"Aimee?" Lavender asked, a bewildered expression on her face. "What are you covered in?"

Aimee looked down and realised she was still covered in mud from the Forest floor.

"Uh - um, I, the floor...is dirty, I mean...." And she waved feebly and raced off to the bathroom to shower before breakfast.

Allowing the hot water to run rivulets along her body and back, Aimee shuddered, rubbing her hands to clean off the mud. She felt terrible: faint, queasy and shivery. And would have gone to Madam Pomfrey if she thought she'd get in, no questions asked. But she wasn't sure. If Madam Pomfrey looked too deep, she might find something really wrong, and Aimee didn't like the thought of that. Not at all.

After dressing in her Gryffindor robes, Aimee met Lavender again on the stairway down to the Great Hall.

"Sorry, if I was rude this morning. I had a bad night's sleep." Aimee said, smiling apologetically at Lavender.

Lavender shrugged it off. "I could see that. Actually, you know, Aimee, yesterday you were looking peaky, today you look awful...I don't mean that nastily, but, well, maybe you ought to go to the hospital wing?"

Aimee shook her head, but then stopped because it made her dizzy. "No, really, I'm ok."

Lavender didn't look so sure, but let it drop anyway as the two girls entered the nearly empty Hall. They were early, but it allowed them the chance to sit in relative peace before the Hall filled up and the din of the usual chatter began.

Aimee wasn't at all hungry, instead settling for a glass of cold water. Her first lesson of the day would be Defence Against the Dark Arts, down in the dungeons with Professor Lupin. Aimee had only been at Hogwarts a few weeks, but had already decided her favourite lesson was Defence Against the Dark Arts. She found it interesting, a little challenging, but most of all, useful. She could see the need to protect oneself, and even if she never had to, she'd know how to.

Her mind wandered back to her night's ramblings. It was the same at the Muggle School; she'd wake for no reason, go to the window for air or to the bathroom to wash her face and then the pain would knock her out, only to find herself somewhere else, out of bed, stiff, bruised, nauseated, and with her belongings inexplicably ruined. It seemed last night, she'd gone for distance travelling rather than ripping her books up...which was a good thing in a way, but she didn't relish the thought of waking up in the Forest again. She knew tonight would probably be the same; she found it was like a forty-eight hour bug thing; two nights and then nothing for a few weeks, and then two nights again.

She looked up as Parvati Patil and Hermione Granger entered the Great Hall, and sat opposite her.

"Heya Aimee, heya Lav," Parvati said, yawning. Hermione nodded, and then frowned.

"You know, there was slime on my bed this morning...do you reckon the Weasley twins have managed to smuggle a dog in?" she said, glancing over at the two boys laughing a little way down the Gryffindor table. The twins had been talking about getting a dog and allowing it to roam around outside Trelawney's tower, hoping she'd think it was the Grim and have a breakdown.

Aimee's heart thudded jarringly, her stomach falling and her breath caught in her throat.

Parvati gasped and a look of dawning appeared on her face. "I dreamt there was a dog at the foot of my bed!" she exclaimed, lowering her voice as Fred looked her way. "A big dog, all hairy and with big teeth..." she tailed off.

Hermione took on a look of imminent scolding. "Right, those two have pushed it far enough. No dogs in the castle, especially not big, hairy, fanged ones that slobber on my duvet!"

"Uh, I've got to go..." Aimee stammered, and she jumped up and exited the Hall quickly, as Hermione dusted off her hands and prepared to give the twins an ear bashing.

Stumbling into the Entrance Hall, Aimee stopped to catch her breath. It was happening again...she was walking in her sleep again, when she'd been so sure it would stop at Hogwarts. And the slime was there, again. She'd never been able to understand why her books at the Muggle School were wet and sodden some mornings, but she never related the two events.

Confused, shaking, she ran up to the Dormitory and grabbed her school bag, before setting off for the dungeons, and her Defence Against the Dark Arts class.

Her classmates joined her not long after she had meandered her way down. Fifth year Gryffindors shared their Defence Against the Dark Arts class with Hufflepuff, and the group came together, and entered the dungeon classroom. It was hard to believe it was a dungeon classroom; it had a stone floor, and no windows, but whereas Snape's dungeon was dark, damp and gloomy, Lupin's classroom had candles in the candelabra in the ceiling, and the room was brightly lit, with fresh air coming from an unseen source. The class was made of individual benches, five to a row, all facing the same way: towards the Professor's desk at the front, away from the door.

Aimee took her now-usual aisle seat and took out her books, parchment, ink, quill and wand. Lavender on her right, Dean Thomas behind, and Susan bones of Hufflepuff in front, did the same. Professor Lupin entered the classroom through a door at the side and smiled at the students before unloading his satchel at the front desk. He looked worn and pale, but seemed cheerful enough anyway. The Professor was actually quite young, but had a haggard look about him, like he had lost a lot of weight in a short amount of time. His hair was flecked with grey and his kind face was somewhat gaunt. He never looked fantastic and glowing with health, but today, Aimee decided, he did look ill.

"Right, then," he began, looking up at the students as he took the register. "All here, that's good. Ok, today we'll be finishing the work on Duelling Laws...yes," he added, " I know it's been boring for you...but it is necessary nonetheless."

A few people smiled at the prospect of finishing the topic that had held no practical work in it.

"And we shall be moving on to Werewolves."

As he said it Aimee's heart jumped. Swallowing fear, she closed her eyes and saw an outline of a wolf in a mirror, a full moon behind. Her eyes flew open and Lavender was looking over to her from her right, a look of concern on her face.

"You sure you're ok?" she asked, but Aimee nodded, slowing her breathing back to normal and pretending to get something out of her school bag.

Professor Lupin was now sat on the front desk, talking about the final few by-laws of Duelling, but Aimee's head pounded and her mind raced. She hated wolves, she knew she was afraid of them, but she'd never had such a panicked reaction to the mere mention of them before. Absentmindedly jotting a few notes as Lupin talked, she shuddered at the vision she'd had. It was like she'd been looking through a window into the face of a wolf, but then the frame was definitely a mirror frame...there was one just like it in the Gryffindor Dormitory.

Struggling to understand the thoughts whirling around in her head, she hadn't realised the class had put their writing equipment away and were now turning to a different chapter in the book. Peering over at Lavender's page, she turned to her own book and flipped to the right chapter.

The title: 'Dark Creature: Werewolf', jumped out at her, and her heartbeat increased again. Lupin was reading from the page, but Aimee found it hard to hear him, the blood roaring in her ears was drowning out his voice. On the first page an illustration showed a person looking into a mirror, and a wolf face looking back. A window in the background showed a full moon, just like last night...

Aimee clamped the book shut with a snap and stood rapidly, wanting to get out of the room as quickly as possible.

Lupin stopped mid-sentence and looked up as Aimee put her hand to her desk for support.

"Aimee?" he said, putting down his book and standing.

"Sorry, Professor L-Lupin." She stuttered. "I-I can't - I have t-to..." she found it hard to talk and she couldn't see or hear apart from the rushing of blood and the pounding of her heart. Wavering on her feet, her eyes rolled back into her head and she hit the floor with a crack, unaware of her surroundings anymore.

Lavender jumped up and sent her chair flying backwards, and Lupin was at Aimee's side in seconds.

"Lavender, pass me her cloak," he said, pointing at Aimee's cloak draped across the back of her chair. Cradling her head in his hand, he gingerly opened one of her eyes and then rested her head on the folded cloak.

"She's just fainted, she's alright though," he said, to the crowd that had now gathered.

"She was looking ill this morning..." Lavender said, and behind her Hermione nodded.

Lupin stroked hair from Aimee's face and nodded too. In the distance, a bell sounded the end of the lesson. Some people began to pack their things away.

"Ok," Lupin called from the floor. "You'd better go to your next lesson, but please read that chapter on Werewolves and be prepared to make notes on it next time please." Turning to Lavender, he said, "Do you share Aimee's next lesson?"

She nodded. "Transfiguration."

"Ok, please tell Professor McGonagall that Aimee will be going up to the hospital wing shortly."

The class left as Aimee stirred, her head throbbing from where she'd hit it on the floor. As she opened her eyes Professor Lupin's face swam into view, and with a small cry of bewilderment, she tried to sit up.

"Aimee, it's alright. You fainted, you're ok, just relax," he said, supporting her back as she sat, swaying slightly.

Feeling clammy all over, Aimee shivered again and wiped her hands across her face. "Where's everyone gone?" she asked, still not quite with it, looking around at the empty classroom.

"Next lesson began already." Lupin replied, helping her as she gripped the edge of the desk and stood, shakily. "Come on, into my office, we'll have a good strong cup of tea I think..." and he led her through the side door into his office.

The room had a cosy feel to it; the big desk in the centre covered entirely with books and stacks of paper, files and a few rolls of old parchment. A well-used leather chair sat read at the desk, and a plush sofa at the side of the room next to a knee-high coffee table.

Sitting her down at the sofa, Lupin went to a cupboard and bought out a pair of teacups and a steaming cast iron kettle, and at the table he poured hot, sweet tea into the cups, lighting the fire in the grate with a flick of his wand. He sat next to Aimee, pitying the poor girl. She still looked shaken and pale. He knew what it was like to be ill, not feeling particularly perky himself at the moment. However, he at least knew why he felt so wretched...

"Thanks," she said quietly as she took the cup. She didn't drink from it, but held it in her hands, feeling the warmth spread through her fingers and up her arms. She added as an afterthought; "Sorry I disrupted your class."

Lupin took a second to realise she'd apologised, and then he smiled and chuckled softly. "Don't apologise, it's not your fault you fainted - really," he said at the worried look on her face, "it's not to be apologised for."

Aimee offered a feeble smile.

"Were you ill?" he asked, sympathetically, "or was it the subject matter?"

Aimee, tried to hide her brief panic, sipping her tea and thinking for an answer. Lupin said nothing but waited for her response, until she finally looked up and sighed.

"I don't know, Sir. I'm sorry." She took a deep breath and continued. "I don't like wolves. I'm afraid of them, I have been since...well, since my parents died." It was a long time since she'd had to think about it or talk about it, and it felt strange to be discussing it here, now, with a Professor. She'd been encouraged to talk with her councillor at the Muggle School, but after a year she had felt no need to.

Lupin stayed quiet, simply allowing her to talk at her own pace. He was unaware of the circumstances of her parents' deaths, but with a horrible jolt realised that maybe he should have been made aware, and maybe he'd begun the topic on Werewolves without knowing if there'd be any issues for consideration regarding students' backgrounds.

Aimee took another sip of the steamy tea, and continued, her voice quiet and subdued. "We were camping, and, well, we were attacked by a pack." She paused. "I was lucky. I - well, I fainted, and they left me alone. I woke in hospital. My parents - " she didn't continue anymore; not because she couldn't, but because she didn't need to.

The young Professor couldn't stop his heart from thudding painfully in his chest. He was angered that he'd not been informed of Aimee's background, and that his subsequent lack of tact and consideration had caused her obvious distress. He also worried about her feelings towards him. She evidently knew nothing of his monthly transfiguration into a Werewolf; not many people did, but what would she think if she did know?

"May I ask when this was?" he said, softly and tentatively.

Aimee looked at him as if waking from a daydream, having been studying the teacup in her hands. "Oh, four years ago, no, four and a half..." she said, noticing the worried look on his face. "I'm sorry, really I am. It won't happen again. I just wasn't expecting to feel so..." she struggled to think of the word, "...scared," she said finally.

Lupin shook his head sadly. "Not at all, I am the sorry one, Aimee, I should have known about your situation and I will now alter the course to accommodate for this. I can have work sent to you, or I can teach you during a free period if you'd prefer?"

Aimee frowned. "Oh no, I'll come to normal lessons. Really, it won't happen again. Please, I want to come to the normal lessons," she said, putting her cup down on the table and turning to face him properly.

The Professor didn't really know what to say, so he simply nodded and then added; "Ok, Aimee, but any problems, any questions, and any time you feel like you don't want to be here, you let me know, ok? Find me and let me know."

Aimee, smiled and nodded, feeling much more normal, and much less nauseated than she had before. "Thank you Professor Lupin," she said, and stood to leave.

Lupin stood too. "Here," he said, taking a quill and roll of parchment from the desk and scrawling a note on it, "is a note for Madam Pomfrey, explaining what happened." He took a fresh piece of parchment. "And here, is a note for Professor McGonagall, excusing you from her lesson."

Passing both parchment pieces to Aimee, he opened the door to the office and allowed her to pass through before him and collect her school bag from her desk. Walking with her up the stairs to the main body of the castle, he stopped outside the staffroom door, just feet away from the stairs leading up to the hospital wing.

"Will you be ok from here?" he asked the auburn-haired fifth former, pleased to see she had colour to her cheeks again.

Aimee smiled and nodded. "Yes, and thank you for the tea, Sir," she said, and as he turned to go into the staffroom, she turned towards the staircase.

The moment she heard the door click shut, she turned on her heel and walked back on herself, up to the Gryffindor tower. It would be lunchtime soon, and she hoped she'd just be able to blend in with the crowds; telling anyone who asked that Madam Pomfrey had allowed her to leave on the proviso that she got herself some lunch before returning to lessons. Ignoring the rants of Sir Cadogan as she passed, she cleared her throat politely waiting for the Fat Lady to wake from the snooze that she was taking. Having delivered the password, Porcupine, Aimee entered the round common room of Gryffindor tower and threw herself into one of the armchairs.

Her head, although still a little woozy, was flinging thoughts around inside, franticly searching for an explanation. The death of her parents was still fresh in her mind, and she recalled flashes of the event, having been unconscious for much of it. She could hear screaming and shouting and snarling, all mingling in the air. She could see wolves, everywhere, coming out of the tree line, out of the forest and circling the camp site, snapping their jaws and growling, setting the hairs on the back of Aimee's neck on edge. With an almighty shout her Father pushed her away, pulling at her clothes. Her Mother, just a few feet away brandished a stick, swiping at any brave enough to come near. A bristled black wolf with its face rippled in a sneer leapt forwards and knocked Aimee's Mother to the ground. Aimee called out as her Father went to help, screams echoing around the clearing. Aimee was tugged, and turning, she saw a larger wolf, with a square snout and thickset mane stood with a hand clamped in its jaws: her hand. Yelping in pain and shock, Aimee jumped away, pulling her bloodied hand from the beast, cradling it in her free hand, and crying out as hot crimson poured down her arm and to her elbow.

With a snarl and a glance to the rest of the pack just a few feet off, the wolf scurried forwards and snapped again, this time its teeth digging hard into Aimee's left shoulder.

Screaming in pain Aimee's eyes sprung open and she gasped for air, her hands flying out to steady herself. The cool touch of the leather armchair met her fingers and she realised instantaneously that she was in the common room still. Her left hand throbbed painfully along the jagged scar, and her shoulder was stiff, aching dully.

Looking around and relieved to find there was no one else there still, Aimee, stood and went to the bathroom to wash off her face, throwing her school bag onto her bed on the way past.

She'd not dreamt about the day her parents had died for a long time. The dream contained everything she remembered about the event...as she had been thrown to the ground she'd passed out and it wasn't until a few days later that she'd woken in a Norwegian hospital, having been found by a Park Ranger. Her parents' funeral had been a few days after that, and then she'd gone to the nearest Muggle School/Orphanage, without parents at just 11 years old.

Dumbledore had explained on her first evening at Hogwarts that it was these circumstances that had left her there for four years before a Hogwarts letter arrived for her. According to him, everyone was under the impression that Aimee was Durmstrang's responsibility, and assumed she had been enrolled there. It was four years before the reality was discovered and Hogwarts took her in as soon as they realised; a highly unusual situation for a student to be in. All her classmates had four years up on her, but she was taking remedial classes and so far was coping well, borrowing Hermione Granger's notes from first year through to fourth year; advised that she had by far the most reliable class notes.

The chatter of voices downstairs told her that people were coming into the tower before lunch. Giving herself a final check over in the mirror, she turned and went back down to the common room.

"Aimee!" called Parvati from the fireplace. "How are you?"

Aimee smiled and nodded, waving across the rapidly filling room, to show she was ok.

She saw Lavender coming down the stairs from the Dormitory, and went over. "You getting lunch now?" she asked, putting on a brave face, although her nausea had returned.

"Aimee, hi! How are you feeling now? Sorry, lunch, yeah, I'll come now," she said, "but you're sure you're ok for lunch?"

"Yeah, really. Just a bad day, I'll sleep it off later," Aimee replied and the two girls set off towards the portrait hole.

"Wait up!" Parvati called, and soon she, Harry Potter, Ron and Ginny Weasley and Hermione had joined the fifth year group going down to lunch.

Tureens of soup, baskets of chips and slices of buttered bread lined the table, with fruit, cakes and jugs of juice available too. Sitting at one end of the Gryffindor table, the group began helping themselves to lunch, chattering and laughing. Ron was arguing with Ginny about who could use Hermes first.

"I'm older - "

"My letter is more important - "

"I can get up to the owlery quicker than you can - "

"I'll tell Mom - "

In the end it was Harry who settled the dispute by letting Ron use his owl instead.

Hermione was discussing an Arithmancy lesson with Lavender. Aimee, who didn't take Arithmancy, decided it was a good thing that she wasn't taking it...it sounded very difficult.

Parvati was trying and failing to make a chip sandwich, so settled for eating the chips and the bread separately. Her twin sister, Padma, was having exactly the same problem two tables over on the Ravenclaw bench.

"You not hungry, Aimee?"

Aimee woke from her musings and shook her head. "Not really." It was Harry who'd spoken.

"You alright after...well, after this morning?" he asked. Aimee had never noticed what bright green eyes Harry had behind his glasses, but now she couldn't help but notice as they searched her face kindly.

Smiling weakly she nodded. "I'm fine, really. Big scene over nothing." She hoped she'd shrug off the embarrassment, but to her dismay she felt her cheeks redden.

"I know how you feel. I fainted in front of everyone on the train once. Malfoy loved doing impressions of that." His eyes darted across to the Slytherin table behind her, where the telltale blonde head of Draco Malfoy could be seen between the crew-cut heads of his goons, Crabbe and Goyle.

Aimee smiled again, at Harry's attempt to make her feel better. "It'll be forgotten," she said firmly and he smiled back.

"Ok, library." Hermione stated matter-of-factly and Harry, Ron and Hermione all excused themselves and left the Great Hall. Lavender and Parvati followed shortly after, and with a wave Ginny left to go and find Professor Flitwick.

Aimee wandered out of the Great Hall and up to the Gryffindor tower again. She had a free period after lunch, but thought she may as well get some of her Potions homework done while she had nothing better to do, so she went up to the Dormitories and dug out her quill and ink. Her half finished essay was still a foot short, but with a text book that Hermione had lent her, she was sure she'd be able to finish with at least an A (acceptable), maybe even an E (exceeds expectations).

Spreading her work out on her bed, she began to write again.

'Aconite (monkshood/wolfsbane)...'

She stopped. 'Wolfsbane'. She was back to thinking about wolves again, Aimee accidentally blotted her parchment and had to scrabble around for some eraser fluid.

'Ok,' she told herself, 'enough thinking about wolves. Enough.'

She picked up her quill and began to write again.

Once she'd gotten into the subject, she was able to concentrate much more, and before long she was putting the final touches to her essay, which was three inches over the required length, and she was blotting excess ink and removing the smudges with her wand.

"Aimee?"

She looked up to see a second year Gryffindor poking her head around the doorway.

"Professor Lupin asked someone to give you this. He wanted to make sure you got it this lunchtime."

Aimee got off the bed and walked over to the blonde-haired girl. "Thanks," she said, taking the parchment from the girls' outstretched hand. The second year scuttled off back down the stairs as Aimee broke the wax seal on the parchment and unrolled it, reading the elegant, yet slightly scrawled writing within.

'Aimee, I hope you are feeling better than this morning. If you are up to it, I have a Third Year class this afternoon immediately after lunch in which we will be starting on a topic that I know you've not done before. If you are able to come, please do, if not, I will understand and will instead send some work to you. If you do come, I would ask that you arrive a couple of minutes early so I can go over some things with you. R Lupin'

She reread the note and checked her watch. She ought to be setting off within the next few minutes if she was going; she'd have to get to the dungeons, and pack her bag ready for Potions last lesson. Collecting her Potions essay, her books and placing the borrowed text on Hermione's bed with a scribbled note of thanks, Aimee gathered her belongings and headed off through the common room and out of the portrait hole, waving to Ginny as she left. Down the stairways and along the first floor corridor, Aimee walked, ignoring Peeves as he blew raspberries at her from a deserted classroom.

Arriving at the dungeons, noticing a strong vinegar-like smell coming from Snape's room, she continued to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, knocking once before stepping inside.

Professor Lupin was waiting for her, sat on his desk at the front reading from a textbook. As she entered he stood and put the book away, walking up the aisle to meet her half way. He motioned for her to enter his office once more, and she did, placing her school bag on the floor beside the sofa, and taking a seat when he beckoned for her to do so.

"How are you feeling now, Aimee?" he asked kindly.

She smiled up at him. "Fine, thank you, Sir. I slept it off, I feel much better now." She hoped her voice didn't sound as false as she thought it did, and was glad when he nodded and left the subject, instead turning his attention to the Third Year class she'd be joining for the lesson.

"We will be dealing with Boggarts," he said, matter-of-factly. "They are creatures of a sort, more like optical illusions. They cause fear in their victims by assuming the form of that which the victim is most afraid." He paused, hoping she'd understand why he felt the need to explain this to her.

Aimee had read something about Boggarts in Hermione's notes. When she'd asked more, Hermione had said something about McGonagall grading her homework badly, and Aimee hadn't really understood the rest because Hermione had gone over all flushed and panicky.

"Ok," she said, and then she realised why he was telling her this now. "Oh, I see," she said, clearing her throat. "So I'd be attacked by this Boggart in..." she paused. True, she was most afraid of wolves, but then, she'd been afraid of spiders for a lot longer.

"Is it your worst fear? Or your longest standing fear?" she asked, hoping he'd say the latter.

"Usually your worst, but it depends which is the most deep-seated, are you afraid of anything else that it could use?"

"Spiders," she smiled. "They scuttle, I hate that."

He smiled too. "The point I want to make is; I am happy for you to attend this lesson, but you must be happy to attend. If you think you can deal with whatever attack it uses, you can try and defeat it. It's a simple enough curse, especially for a Fifth Year, but you have to have the mental strength to perform when in fear of whatever it is before you..."

Aimee didn't really need to think about it. "I'd like to do it. I'd like to try," she said, standing. "It may even help my fear."

Lupin admired her courage. "Ok, Aimee. Give it a go. All you have to do is say stop and I can take over. I'm sure you'll be fine, really." The young Professor heard the bell ringing off in the castle, and expected his Third Year students were already queuing outside. "Well, Aimee, if you could just help me take it into the classroom?"

He picked up a handle of rope at one side of a wooden crate. Aimee obligingly took the other and lifted the surprisingly lightweight box through the door and into the classroom.

Setting it down at the front of the room, Lupin thanked Aimee and then allowed her to take a seat at the back of the room while he opened the main door. A stream of chattering Third Years entered, and filled the seats, gradually settling down and taking out their equipment.

"Wands are all that will be needed today," Professor Lupin stated, and at once a murmur of excitement ran through the class. He paced the class taking down names for the register.

Aimee opened her bag to get out her wand and noticed all too late that the parchment pieces for Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall were still in there, resting on top of all her books. Pulling out her wand in haste to close her bag again, she sent the scrolls rolling across the floor instead. Grabbing at them frantically, Aimee shoved them roughly to the bottom of her bag and recomposed herself. Luckily she saw Lupin had appeared not to notice, as he returned to the front of the class and drew out his own wand.

"Ok, everyone to the side of the room, not to the back if you please."

With a swish of his arm, the desks and chairs flew to the back of the room, and cleared the floor space. Everyone in the class moved closer to the wooden crate, which was now shuddering and rattling in front of Lupin. Walking to the back of the classroom, he shut the door firmly before he truly began.

"As previously discussed, Boggarts take on a fearful form to whomever they are trying to attack. They cause no real harm, but are nevertheless distressing and a spell to rid them is always useful. Now, as powerful wizards and witches, you'll be able to deal with them yourselves with a flick of your wand, but as students, it is best to be in a group. The spell we use is Ridikkulis and it works as thus..." The Professor motioned for everyone to step back from the box, and with a flash of light from his wand, he opened the crate. A black shadow emerged, before transforming into a silvery orb, which hung midair. He held it with his wand as he continued talking. "By using Redikkulis we imagine our fear to be changed to make it less fearful, even funny. The Boggart is destroyed by laughter and with many people; it can get confused easily and change itself into a muddle of everyone's fears. It is this tactic we will use today. Madam Pomfrey found this one in the hospital wing hiding under a bed at lunchtime. I thought it would be good to use it as a training aid." He paused. "Right, if everyone is happy, we will begin. I will call your names and you will step forwards to face your Boggart. When it becomes your fear, shout Redikkulis and think hard about it being made less fearful."

The entire class had their wands at he ready, all looking one with a mixture of anticipation, nervousness and excitement.

"Right, remember it is an illusion and you are in no real harm. Any problems, then step back, say stop, and someone else will take over. Shall we begin?"

Stepping back from the orb, it again misted into a black fog.

"Georgina!" called Lupin, and a brown-haired girl in glasses stepped forwards. Instantly she gasped at the sight of a five-foot-long snake at her feet. Almost freezing in fear, she regained her senses enough to point her wand and shout "Redikkulis!" before the snake began to shrink and become pinker, turning rapidly and notably into an earthworm.

"Good! Francis!" called Lupin as a tall lanky boy with black hair replaced Georgina.

Georgina's worm was suddenly sprouting hair, and legs to become a red-eyed rat that gnashed its yellowing teeth. "Redikkulis!" yelled the boy and the rat rolled over and began thrashing, unable to find its feet again.

"Great! Sam!" shouted Lupin, above the giggles of the class. Sam stepped forwards to meet her Boggart, a pigeon that promptly found itself roasted on a silver platter. The class howled with laughter at the sight, and Sam was almost crying with mirth.

"Brilliant! Carina!" At first no one could see Carina's Boggart. She squeaked and pointed to the floor, where the class all stooped to look at what was there. A lonesome Woodlouse scrabbled around on the stone flags of the classroom, and she squeaked again, stepping back from the creature, before putting on a resolved face and shouting her spell at it. The Woodlouse began to inflate until it was balloon-sized and finally it burst, leaving the Boggart black cloud behind. Although a little pale, Carina laughed and stepped back to allow David to attack.

"Well done! Torin!"

"Yes! Stephanie"

"Good! Garth!"

"Excellent! Aimee!"

Aimee stepped forwards automatically at the call of her name. She was so convinced that her Boggart would be a spider, and she knew that is wouldn't be half as scary with no legs, that she first thought to step back, thinking someone else was taking the floor.

The wolf formed slowly at first, black smoke swirling around to form the twist of hair from its tail, up to form it's hind legs and its torso, followed by the claws at the front and finally its shaggy, square-jawed head, snarling and snapping. She froze and felt her breath catch in her throat. Slowly, subconsciously she bought her wand up to level with the growling beast's eyes. The spell had left her head empty and she was stuck, with nothing but the wolf and the wand. No word issued from her mouth, and her eyes only just took in the very outline of her surroundings. A movement to her right startled her and she automatically threw her wand out to point directly at Professor Lupin's midriff.

"Stay back!" she shouted, louder than she meant to. She was so afraid that her mind had gone blank; all she could think of was protecting herself and the others in the room. No one was laughing anymore.

"Wand down, Aimee," Lupin said firmly and slowly, not raising his voice and walking calmly and steadily out to the side of her.

"Stay back!!!"

"Aimee!" he yelled, trying to snap her out of her fear, but at the same time he was fully aware that she was holding a wand to his heart. "Point your wand at the Werewolf, Aimee. Go on, at the Boggart." He spoke without losing eye contact, his own wand now drawn at his side.

Aimees glanced from the Boggart to the Professor and then back again, her brown eyes full of terror. Her hand shook and she stepped away from the Professor, her wand still directed at him.

"The Boggart, Aimee, point your wand at the Boggart, go on, it's ok."

She spun around as the Boggart moved a step towards her, and directed her wand at the beast instead.

"Good, Aimee," said Lupin, quickstepping closer. She was shaking and too close to the Boggart for him to be able to do anything. In order for Lupin to take over, he'd have to be closer to the Boggart than she was.

"Step back, Aimee," he said slowly.

The auburn-haired girl faltered and then took a step backwards.

Just as he breathed a shallow sigh of relief, the worst possible thing happened. The Boggart leapt forwards.

With an almighty crash, Aimee flew backwards, catching herself just in time to stop from falling headlong into the wall. People screamed as the Boggart turned to face her again, and in her fear she dropped her wand and sprinted the length of the room, ripping the classroom door open.

"Aimee! No!" yelled Lupin, but it was too late. He reached the door in time to see the Boggart reforming into a black cloud and floating off towards the main castle. Aimee was nowhere to be seen.

Turning back to the classroom, he hurried to the front and cleared his throat.

"Ok, you've all seen how Boggarts work, and well done to everyone who tackled it; five points a piece. The lesson ends in a minute anyway, but you ought to go, well, I ought to go, so pack away and again, well done." With a swish of his wand the desks returned to their original places, and the Third Years gathered their bags, chattering excitedly about the lesson they'd just had.

Professor Lupin's only thought was to find Aimee. He inwardly kicked himself for allowing the situation to arise and for not doing something quicker, but he couldn't run the risk of hitting Aimee if he'd have used a stronger curse on the Boggart. Worried about where Aimee could be and what state she'd be in, he hurried out of the classroom, only noticing the figure standing just outside the doorway when she called to him.

"Professor?"

The voice was small, meek, and Aimee's.

"Aimee?" he said, and stopped, turning to face her. She'd been crying and her face was streaked with more tears still falling.

"Aimee, please, come in and take a seat."

She nodded and followed him into his office, for the third time that day. Sitting down on the sofa, she wiped her cheeks with her sleeve and took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Sir, I - "

"Aime - "

They both tried to talk at the same time.

"Sir, I'm sorry. I panicked. I lost it. Everything we'd said, everything you'd told me, it was like I'd lost all ability to think. I'm really sorry. I lost your Boggart, I'm - "

Lupin cut her off at this point. "Aimee, please stop saying sorry. I apologise for not having full control of the situation. I should never have let that happen, and I'm amazed you don't seem angrier with me. Please, I understand, and I would suggest a complaint - "

It was Aimee's turn to cut him off, something she was very unaccustomed to doing to a teacher.

"No, Sir. You weren't to know that I'd freak out at the sight of a wolf-Boggart like that."

"Werewolf," he corrected her automatically.

"Sorry?" she said, puzzled.

"It was a Werewolf-Boggart, the snout shape was a Werewolf's." 'Of all people, Remus, You should know one when you see one...' he thought cynically to himself.

"No," she said, bewildered. "That was the wolf that attacked me when...well, you know..."

Lupin stopped in his thoughts.

"Exactly the same one?" he said, slowly, frowning with his mind suddenly pushed into overdrive.

Aimee's face showed a contortion of confusion, then shock, and then panic.

"I have to go," she said suddenly, standing quickly and grabbing her belongings.

"No, Aimee, I think we need to - " but again she cut him off mid sentence.

"Uh-um, sorry, Sir," she stuttered and ran out of the office, pausing only to stoop and pick up her wand and school bag, Professor Lupin calling for her to stop.

Her mind racing nineteen to the dozen and her heart struggling to keep up with the pace, Aimee ran up the stairs to the main castle and didn't stop until she'd reached the Fat Lady.

"Alright, Dear?" she asked, but Aimee ignored her.

"Porcupine, quick!" she said, and rushed through the portrait hole into the common room.

Fred and George Weasley were already there, but she ran past them, ignoring Fred's shout.

Slamming the Dormitory door shut, she could still hear Fred calling up the stairs to her; unable to actually climb the stairway because of the hetero-gender charm put on them.

'He'll stop soon,' she told herself, ignoring him.

Aimee shivered despite the warmth of the room, and shakily walked over to her bed, sitting tensely on the edge.

She toyed with thoughts in her head, thinking that maybe her memory had distorted, changing the features of the wolf slightly. Maybe even Lupin was the wrong one, and he had confused the features of a wolf and a Werewolf. She had no idea that he knew from first hand experience the difference between wolves and Werewolves, but her mind did edgily remind her that he was the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and what's more, he'd been teaching about Werewolves just the lesson before last; the chances of him being wrong were somewhat minimal.

Feeling a fat tear fall onto her hands, clasped in her lap, Aimee tried desperately to convince herself that her Werewolf-Boggart meant nothing, but her subconscious nagged and niggled at her. Her nighttime wanderings kept surfacing in her mind, and her scarred hand ached as a reminder of where the beast had bitten her all those years ago. She dug her fingernails painfully into her palms, willing her thoughts to shut up and leave her alone.

It was a good hour or two before she realised that there were many voices coming from downstairs. She guessed it would soon be dinnertime, and people were doing a spot of homework or gossiping in the common room before going down to the Great Hall.

Her stomach jolted as she heard someone outside climbing the steps, and within seconds the door to her Dormitory had opened. A pale-faced Hermione poked her head in and then entered, shutting the door softly behind her. She approached tentatively, obviously worried for Aimee.

"Are - are you ok?" she asked.

Aimee realised she must look a mess, and wiped at her face with her robes, offering Hermione a false, watery smile.

"I'm fine, just feeling rough," she said. "Really, I'm fine." Her insides squirmed at lying so blatantly to a friend, but she couldn't tell anyone exactly how she felt right now.

"It's just; Fred and George said you were pretty upset earlier, and then you didn't come to Potions..." Hermione tailed off, and Aimee's stomach gave a jolt. The Potions Master, Professor Snape, wouldn't be willing to forgive her for skiving his class. She'd have to be prepared for a thorough reprimand next lesson.

"Maybe Madam Pomfrey could help you?" Hermione said, nervously.

Aimee didn't answer, instead just shaking her head. Hermione took that as a defiant refusal and for once didn't push the point.

"Ok, but I can tell there is really something wrong, Aimee. You're really upset about something, I can see." She paused and walked over to where Aimee sat, placing her hand on Aimee's shoulder. "If you need to talk about it, about anything, you just come find me, alright?"

Aimee nodded, not looking at Hermione but staring at the floor ahead.

"Are you coming to dinner?" Hermione asked, realising she wasn't going to get any more information from Aimee.

Aimee shook her head. "No, I'm going to sleep," she said quietly.

Hermione looked ready to argue that dinner would be better for her, but stopped herself and instead nodded, faltering slightly before turning and leaving the Dormitory.

Aimee waited until the hubbub of chattering people in the common room had died away before taking off her robes and slipping a clean pair of pyjamas on. She knew going to bed at sunset was stupid, but she also felt that maybe if she did, she'd be able to wake up in the morning with the day's events forgotten and vanished. With that in mind, she drew the drapes around her four-poster, settled herself between the cold sheets and pulled the duvet up to her chin. She prayed to God, to Merlin, to anyone who would listen that she'd not walk that night, and drifted fitfully into an uneasy, yet thankfully dreamless sleep.

Opening her eyes the tiniest amount; she could see nothing but darkness at first. Aimee realised that it was late at night, perhaps even early morning. Closing her eyes tight the knot in her stomach tightened, as she remembered the previous day and what it had held for her. She listened to the rhythmic breathing of the others in the Dormitory, already fast asleep, as she pondered Professor Lupin. Had he realised what she had? Did he now suspect she'd been bitten by a Werewolf? She decided that he hadn't, on the basis that if he had, he'd have informed Dumbledore and she'd be locked up by now.

Resting with her eyes shut, she allowed her mind to wander. The silence in the castle confirmed that it must be well past midnight already. She was on the verge of falling asleep again, when a noise drew her attention back to the waking world.

Eyes closed, straining to hear, she listened, shunning the thud of her heartbeat and the rush of blood in her head.

Again, she heard it. A grumble; no, a thunder roll; no...it was growling.

Eyes flying open, Aimee threw the covers off her bed and grabbed at the drapes surrounding her bed, expecting to see the supposed "Weasley-twin dog" but nothing was there. She was about to redraw the hangings when she heard it again. Climbing out of her bed, she pushed her hair out of her face and looked around. Moonlight was illuminating the drapes on Lavender's bed from behind. The growl echoed again, and with a startled jolt, Aimee realised it was coming from outside the Dormitory. Her heart lifted briefly at the realisation that there was a dog in the tower, and therefore any stupid thoughts she'd had about Werewolves were now annulled, and also that she had not walked in her sleep that night.

She tiptoed cautiously to the edge of Lavender's bed and peered around the corner, looking towards the slightly opened Dormitory door.

With a glance at the window, she made to creep to the door, but a sharp jab of pain across her forehead felled her to her knees, the smack of the impact ringing out in the silence. Unable to call out, barely able to breathe, Aimee writhed as her vision failed and she was plunged into black.

Something wasn't right. It smelt odd.

Aimee didn't dare open her eyes, not yet. She felt weird, dizzy and nauseated. She was warm on one side, but strangely numb too, like she'd slept on one arm for too long. Her other side was chilled and the resulting feeling made her shiver slightly, unable to feel any part of her body properly.

She tried to move her head, but couldn't. It was heavy and bruised. Instead the auburn-haired girl decided she ought to find out where she was and so slowly she opened her eyes.

She was in a dimly lit room, which she recognised as a dungeon. She struggled to focus, but everything was blurred and she found it hard to keep her eyes open; any movement hurt her head and added to the sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach. Closing her eyes a few times and reopening them again she tried hard to lift her head, finally managing to raise it a few inches above the floor. She could see candles flickering in wall brackets, and she thought she could see bars between herself and them. She put her arms out to push herself up, but couldn't feel them, and couldn't move them. Aimee thought to call out, but unable to see if there was anyone even there, she opted not to in the end. Instead she concentrated on regaining the feeling in her arms and sitting up. Her focus was gradually improving. There were undeniably bars in front of her, which meant she had not been in this room before; she'd not seen bars in any of the classrooms. There were no paintings hung on the walls, just candles and brackets, as far as she could tell. There was something black in the corner, but she couldn't be sure if it was a filing cabinet or not, although that is what her first instinct told her. She could hear dripping, so she was most likely under the school, in the dungeons, and nothing else. She could smell a mingled mixture of damp, earth and vinegar. Something inside her memory stirred and she recollected a similar smell coming from Professor Snape's classroom earlier that day. Her mind was slowly sharpening too, and she wondered what exactly she was doing on the floor in the dungeons in a cage.

With that thought her eyes flew open and she rolled onto her front, looking around glancing from candle to bar to floor to ceiling. What was she doing in a cage?

Aimee found she could move a bit, but felt detached and numb, for example, unable to feel where her legs were or what position her arms were in. Her vision was improving and she turned to take in her full surroundings, able to see well in her current position.

The filing cabinet was watching her carefully, a calculating expression on his face. Swathed in black, it was hard to see that it was actually Professor Snape in the darkened corner of the room, but for his pale face, illuminated by the flickering flames of the candles.

It was a couple of seconds before Aimee realised that it was Snape whom she was gazing at; and when she did, she jumped and almost swore. She tried to ask where she was and what had happened, and then she remembered the dog and another flush of questions arrived. But nothing came out. She tried again, and instead a pathetic squeak was all she could manage.

'Something is really not right...' she thought to herself, panic beginning to bubble in her throat. One more attempt at calling to the Professor, who hadn't moved from his seat in the corner, and she heard only a high-pitched yelp.

Turning around on the spot to see where the noise had come from and she caught a glimpse of a dog's foot. She tried to stand, to find the dog, but found she could only get to her hands and knees, but she found she could still feel the soles of her bare feet on the floor. Turning her head again, she saw a glance of a dog, a shaggy-haired black one, right behind her.

It was then that she realised what was so wrong.

Her body was no longer there. Her senses, which told her she was on hands and knees, lied to her. She was on all fours all right, but on four paws.

The piercing howl that followed was the result of her endeavoured screaming, and it was a good thirty seconds before she could stop herself, resolving instead to whimpering, curled in the furthermost corner of the cages she was in.

Professor Snape didn't move at first, watching her curiously, and with trepidation. Eventually, he rose and walked to the side of the cage, kneeling to peer in and look at Aimee more closely. A short time passed before he spoke.

"Miss White," he said, his voice cool and calm. "If you understand me then you'll do as I say. If not then something is clearly not right at all." He paused for what seemed like an eternity.

Aimee was listening hard to his every breath, unable to convey her thoughts and feelings, but thinking over and over in her head 'I understand, Sir, really, I understand. Please, help me? What has happened to me?'

His eyes narrowed. "Look at me, Miss White."

On held breath he waited, until she finally gathered the strength to raise her head and look directly at him.

Although she knew she must have hair all over her face she couldn't feel any on the back of her neck, or see a snout between her eyes.

A look of slight bemusement on his face, Professor Snape continued. "Wolves don't cross their eyes, Miss White. At least, not normally. Please step away from the corner."

She was almost angered at his casualness at the situation, but was incapable of expressing her emotions. Instead she shakily stood on her legs; well, her hands and knees; and slowly walked towards the centre of the cage.

Professor Snape stood and took a pace back from the cage, his eyes still locked on hers.

"Professor Lupin will be along shortly. You will wait until then. Sunrise is not far off."

With that he spun on his heel and left the room through an unseen door.

Aimee had never felt so strange in all her life. The full implications of what was happening to her wouldn't sink in; as if her mind was protecting her from the full truth of what she was. She sat, feeling as though she was sat back on her haunches, and frowned in concentration. She couldn't remember how she'd gotten here, or indeed anything after the Dormitory. She was just about to go and see where the dog was, and then the pain had gripped her and she remembered nothing after that.

'Maybe there was no dog...' she thought to herself. 'Oh God, maybe I was growling...' she shuddered at the thought. Nothing made sense to her at the moment, and yet everything made sense if she thought about it in a specific way; that is; if she took it as read that she was indeed a Werewolf.

A click to her right announced that someone had entered the room, and she peered round to see better, standing again on her feet, on her paws.

Professor Snape entered, looking uneasy and shifty. Behind him, unmistakably, was a Werewolf.

Aimee realised she couldn't scream only when she had emitted a tiny yelp, and stifled the urge to make any more noises. She really didn't understand what was going on. At first she thought that the Potions Master had bought a Boggart with him, but the Werewolf was different, his fur was paler than that of the Werewolf-Boggart she had faced earlier. Although she wasn't entirely sure of her self-image at that time, she decided that the new Werewolf was bigger than she. He wasn't caged, he wasn't leashed, but Snape didn't look overly keen on that arrangement. Although she knew that he knew she was Aimee White, Fifth Year Gryffindor, she could still tell he was happier seeing that she was in the cage, and obviously thought the other should be too. It never crossed Aimee's mind that there could be other Werewolves at Hogwarts; and she wasn't to know, as some did, that the faculty contained one.

The pale-coated Werewolf sat on the other side of the cage bars, and looked expectantly up at the Potions Master.

Snape looked almost venomous, but without a word, leant down and flipped the catch on the cage door.

Aimee chose not to move; noticing that Snape had his free hand clenched tightly in his pocket around what she was sure would be his wand. Instead, the other Werewolf entered the cage. Snape did not close the door again, but walked away to the corner where he had been sitting.

She wanted to run, she didn't want to be trapped in the confinements of the cage with a Werewolf, but she'd have to go through him to get out of the door, and then she'd have to get past Snape to escape from the dungeon room. Fully aware that her chance of succeeding was small, she opted to wait and see what would happen next.

The Werewolf whined softly, and she listened, half of her mind thinking that he was communicating wither, half thinking that she was imagining the words that surfaced to her thoughts. Something kept repeating in her head; 'you're safe, don't worry, you're safe,' and she struggled to understand what the words were doing. They persisted, driving at her mind, until the Werewolf before her stopped. And the words stopped too.

Aimee thought of a question in her head. No sound issued from her mouth though. She thought harder about the question. Still nothing. She tried to open her mouth and ask the questions, and the tiniest of barks shot forth. Stopping in surprise, she tried again, and with a mixture of barks and whines, she asked what she hoped was her question.

Instead of answering her though, the beast in front of her stood, and walked out of the cage, looking back once to see if she was following.

Professor Snape stood quickly as the two Werewolves came out of the cage and seemingly reluctant, he walked past them and lead the pair of them out of the room and up a flight of stairs. Aimee strived to keep up, but walking on her hands and knees felt odd, even if she was actually walking on four legs. They continued up and she found herself recognising parts of the dungeons, near the Potions classroom, and then they walked past the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom too. The larger Werewolf stopped midway up the steps into the main body of the castle, and Aimee did the same, although Professor Snape carried on up the stairs to the corridor above. With a jerk of his head, he obviously signalled the all clear, and the two Werewolves climbed the steps again to the ground floor of the castle.

Aimee followed the Potions Master and the other Werewolf through the castle and to the main entrance, waiting as Professor Snape opened the great oak doors wide enough to let them through. She looked around as they both left the castle building and stepped out into the chilly predawn air outside. She could feel the dew on her new feet's pads, and it felt cool and refreshing having been down in the damp dungeons for so long.

The Werewolf with her lay on the grass and closed his eyes. She watched and then lay down opposite him, confused and ablaze with questions, but unable to say so. She watched him, sleeping, or seeming to. His side rose and fell with every breath he took, and his breathing ruffled the grass at his nose.

She glanced from him to the Forest behind, where she'd woken the night before, and then to the sky, which was pinking with the imminent sunrise. And then it happened.

She saw the slit of sunlight break the horizon above the lake, and the Werewolf in front of her sighed, shuddering and then she felt it too; a shiver running the length of her back and across her shoulder blades. She tried to stand, but her legs gave way, and instead she managed to push herself away from the Werewolf who was rapidly changing before her very eyes. Sharp jabbing pains ran through her arms and legs, and with relief she could feel her fingers moving again, as she clawed to pull herself further away. The Werewolf before her had turned into a human, and with sudden realisation, she stuttered before kicking her legs to push herself back from the man who now sat in front of her.

"Aimee," he said, but didn't seem to know how to continue.

She was too astounded to say anything, instead her mouth opened and closed again, lost for words.

Professor Lupin allowed her time to gather her senses, but also knew they would have to return to the indoors soon, or else they ran the risk of being seen.

"Wh - Whe - Wh - " Aimee gave up trying to ask any of the thousands of questions she had in her head. "Professor Lupin?" she finally said, weakly and with a quiver in her voice.

"I think we ought to talk," he said, and stood, holding out his hand to help her up. She took it almost absentmindedly; far more interested in finding out what exactly had just happened. It was like a fast running dream...so much occurred that it was hard to take it all in, and things that she would normally have questioned were left to their own devices, some things were just accepted as fact and no more was to be said on the matter.

Suddenly realising she was soaked in dew, Aimee shivered, her wet cotton pyjamas chilling her to the bone. As they walked across the grass towards Hogwarts castle's main entrance, she felt the Professor place his cloak around her shoulders and she looked up at him, seeing him in a whole new light. She wondered if anyone else knew, other than Snape, who was nowhere to be seen, even inside the castle. As if hearing her very thoughts he spoke, quietly so as not to wake any of the snoozing portraits.

"Not many people know what I am," he said softly. "Even fewer will know what you are."

A million thoughts and emotions suddenly flooded into her mind and she almost stopped walking.

"I've become one of the beasts that killed my parents..." she said, disbelief and yet mournful realisation in her voice. "I'm one of them. How am I supposed to deal with that?"

Her tone wasn't angry, as Lupin had half expected it to be; true, the cruel irony of he situation Aimee was now in was bound to have an effect on the way she thought about herself, and of course, about him. It was awkward, being her teacher, but also sharing such an odd bond with her. They were the only Werewolves at Hogwarts; he knew that for a fact, but how that would change their relationship, he didn't know. He could understand how confused and scared she must feel, but also had no idea how she would cope, given the circumstances of her parents' deaths.

"Where will I go? I can't be sent back to the Muggle School. Not now. It's dangerous...so where? Where do they send me now?"

He looked down at the poor girl, and felt a pang of pity like no other before. He'd been there, sure he'd be expelled and unable to go back to the Muggle world in the dangerous state he was in. He knew what that kind of desperation felt like.

They turned to take the flight of stairs down to the dungeons, and Aimee followed him silently to his office, taking a seat on the sofa as the Professor lit the fire in the grate with a poke of his wand. He shut the door before he spoke.

"Headmaster Dumbledore knows already," he said, matter-of-factly, walking to the sofa, but remaining standing. "Professor Snape knows. I know, and you know." He paused. "No one else here needs to know." He stopped again, and thought carefully about his next words. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

Aimee knew he was referring to himself being a Werewolf, but somehow it didn't matter. It was like she couldn't be angry because she was one too, she had kept things from him, and so she felt as bad as he did. She shook her head, brushing the apology off as unnecessary.

"What happened?" she asked finally, the foremost question in her mind breaking free from her lips.

Professor Lupin looked at the girl sat in front of him, and took a seat next to her. "I knew you could be...that is, I guessed after our conversation. I wasn't sure if you'd realised, but you left in a hurry, I figured you might have. I asked for you at the entrance to the Gryffindor tower; someone said you'd gone to bed. I had to do something, and decided to ask for help." He paused briefly, but she said nothing, her face giving no clue as to the emotions coursing through her. "Professor Snape makes a potion each month. It allows me to keep my human mind, despite being in a Werewolf state. I'd already taken my dose, and so I went to him, and asked for a second batch. I had no choice but to tell him my fears for you; I needed his help if my plan was to work."

Aimee's brow furrowed slightly, but still she said nothing.

"After everyone had gone to bed, I obtained the password and in my Werewolf state entered the common room with Professor Snape. It was then a case of waiting for you to wake and change. I heard you get out of bed, and knew that if my suspicions were true, you'd change and come down the stairway, at least that is all I could hope for; if you stayed in the Dormitory, there'd have been nothing I could have done."

Aimee looked towards him, and her face paled. She'd not thought of the danger her Dormitory friends had been in. She blanched further and her hands began to tremble. She knotted them in the Professor's cloak and ignored the burning tears that had started to well in her eyes.

Lupin bit his bottom lip and continued. "You came down the stairs moments later, and, as you were no danger to me, I managed to pin you to the ground whilst Professor Snape gave you a sleeping draught. While you slept we gave you a dose of the same potion I took, and moved you to the dungeons, figuring you'd wake up very confused, and, well, we didn't want you found by anyone else."

Aimee didn't remember any of it, except the waking up.

"If I'd have bitten you, or Profe - fessor - Sna - pe..." she began, but couldn't carry on.

Lupin cut in. "He had me there to protect him, and he had his wand, and he knew what he was getting into besides. He knew, and he could have taken care of himself. He was in no real danger at all," he said, firmly.

This was mostly true. If Lupin hadn't been a good deal stronger and bigger than Aimee, then the situation could have gotten out of hand, but as it was, he'd found it relatively easy to bring her to the floor and keep her from moving while Snape had administered the potions.

"What am I supposed to do now?" she asked, her voice still verging on cracking.

"Nothing. Not for four weeks. Then you come to me, take the potion again, before you transform, and then spend the night here. Nothing more can be done. The condition is incurable, and lifelong, but it's also possible to live with it, to deal with it each month at a time, and you're not alone; you'll have support."

"I can stay here, at Hogwarts?" she said, almost incredulously.

"There's no place safer for you. You have people here who know about your condition, and can keep you out of harm's way. You have the best Potion's Master to give you the right medication each month, and you have someone who shares your condition if you need to ask any questions. You'll not need to be caged again. You must forgive us, but we had to take precautions..."

Aimee simply nodded.

"I know you're probably burning with questions, but you've also had a long night."

Aimee nodded again.

Professor Lupin couldn't think of anything else to say.

Aimee stood, and folded the cloak, making for the door.

"Go by floo, it'll be quicker, and you wont get caught by Filch," he said, offering her a little brass pot full of powder.

"Thanks," she said, offering a weak smile. "...For everything."

Throwing the powder to her feet, she whispered for the Gryffindor common room fireplace, and whirled out of sight in a haze of green flames.

Professor stared into the fire for a few seconds after she'd disappeared, and then he sunk on to the hearth, his head in his hands, shoulders shaking with silent tears.

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