The Wounded

The Wounded

Chapter 7

Lupin looked down at the dog, at the bony head that lay in his lap. Big, jutting, pointed nose, covered in short, black hair that grew longer behind the jaw, longer still at neck and body, not the thick ruff that Lupin himself had as a wolf, but flat and lank, barely covering the bone and sinewy muscles below. But soft and silky, he had to admit, as he rubbed the hair between his fingers. Such a strange animal, like a living skeleton. Is it because it's starved, or is this natural for the breed, Lupin wondered. The dog's long legs hung over the side of the sofa, all bone and whipcord muscle, the paws were big and splayed, with toenails that were more like claws.

Lupin kept rhythmically rubbing the dog's head, moving around the ears, down along the jaw, and occasionally going further back to neck and sides, letting it get used to being touched. The dog hadn't moved or made a sound from the time it had pushed into Lupin's lap, the only motion was the soft rising and falling of its side as it breathed. Lupin didn't want to disturb it, he sat just as still himself, only moving his hand along the dog's head.

Unfortunately, Lupin was going to have to move, and soon. His bladder was uncomfortably full - all that tea he'd had at Hagrid's. I'll move quickly, he thought. Just a quick nip into the bathroom. He's asleep, he won't even know I'm gone. He kept rubbing the bony head with one hand, then slipped his other hand under the dog's chin. He lifted up the heavy head, and slid out from under it, laying it back down on the sofa when he was clear. A few more rubs around the ears, then Lupin quietly stood up.

He was finished in the bathroom in a matter of minutes, and slipped quietly back into the sitting room.

The dog was no longer on the sofa.

Lupin panicked. His eyes went immediately to the hallway door, but that was closed. And spelled closed, too -- he'd worked a charm earlier so that only he could open it -- so the dog couldn't have left his chambers. He had to still be in here.

The bedroom? He looked, peering under the bed, in the closet, but the dog was not there. He had to be out in the sitting room somewhere.

Just as Lupin came back, the bathroom door suddenly opened. But I left it open, he thought. Who closed it? A long, black nose appeared around the bottom of the door. Lupin watched, mouth open in astonishment, as the dog crawled on its belly out the bathroom door and began to head, slowly and deliberately, back to the sofa.

Lupin peaked around the bathroom door. Water was swirling in the toilet, everything was completely neat and clean. Well, he shrugged, that will make things easier.

He turned back. The dog was still crawling across the room. Lupin tried to pick him up, but the dog shrugged him away, and kept crawling. How odd, thought Lupin. He's not even surprised. Shouldn't he be at least puzzled, that his body is different, it isn't working the way it ought to? But no, he's moving as if he's very familiar with this.

Because he is familiar with this, Lupin realized, with horror. How many nights has he spent crawling to the bathroom, and then hauling himself back up onto the sofa because it's lower to the floor than the bed? And crawling isn't so different, between a dog's body and a man's. Particularly if the man's body isn't working right.

The dog reached the sofa and managed to pull itself back up. It lay on its side, as it had before. Not all that different from the way a man would lie, in a fetal position, Lupin realized. I didn't notice before.

The dog began nosing around on the sofa, and made a questioning sound in its throat. He's looking for me, Lupin thought, and he quickly sat down. The dog pushed its head back into his lap, and sighed. Poor Severus, Lupin thought, poor Sev.

Lupin suddenly had a flash of memory, of himself, as a child, lying in his own mother's arms during the full moon, in wolf form, when he was still too young to be dangerous. Did your mother hold you, Severus? Did you ever lay with your head in her lap, and feel her fingers ruffling your hair? I guess I can be your mother for now. You know you're safe with me. We just have to show you that you're safe with other people.

A soft pop of air, and there was Dobby with a tray.

"Dobby is bringing breakfast, Professor Lupin," Dobby said. He crooked a finger, and a side table slid over from the wall until it was within Lupin's reach. Dobby set the tray on top of it.

"Dobby is bringing Professor Lupin's meals," Dobby said. "And Dobby has been told about Professor Lupin's dog." He looked carefully at the big black creature on the sofa as he said that, then back at Lupin. "This is a very special dog," he said, with a significant tone. He knows, Lupin thought, with a groan. Can't really expect to fool a House Elf, though, can I?

"Yes, Dobby," Lupin said. "He is very special."

Dobby peered closely, examining the sleeping dog from nose to tail. "This is a Spectral Hound. They is very vicious, very fierce." He looked at Lupin. "But they is also very loyal, very protective, to their masters."

Lupin nodded. That sounded like Severus, after all. "Maybe we can teach this one that he doesn't need to be vicious."

Dobby reached forward with a tiny hand, to run his long fingers along the dog's nose. The dog opened one eye -- a dog's eye, but black as Severus's eyes had been -- and started a little, but Lupin said, "It's all right," softly, and the dog relaxed. Dobby ran his hand around the ears, down the neck and along the sides. He gave a nod of approval. "Dobby is knowing about these dogs. Dobby's old masters--" and he gave a shudder here "--they is having dogs like this. Dobby is bringing some things for him."

"Thank you, Dobby," Lupin said, "That will be a big help."

"And," Dobby added, turning back to the tray, "Dobby is bringing some food and water for him now. And bread and milk."

"Is milk all right for dogs?" Lupin asked. He felt a little silly, you'd think a werewolf would know all about dog care, but in fact he knew very little. Werewolves were not dogs.

"Spectral Hounds is eating anything," Dobby said, with a sinister edge to his voice. "And, even if they isn't, this dog, Professor Lupin," with another significant look, "this dog is eating anything a human can."

Lupin nodded. "I see. Thank you, Dobby. I'm glad I know someone who knows the right way to care for him."

"Leave it to Dobby. Dobby is bringing everything Professor Lupin needs. And Dobby is knowing to keep things secret." Dobby tapped his nose with his long finger.

"I know I can trust you, Dobby."

Dobby smiled, and then vanished.

Lupin ate quickly, feeling more ravenous then ever. He tried to get the dog to eat, but it wouldn't wake. He was able to get it to open its mouth and swallow a few spoonfuls of milk, at least. He tried rolling up bread into balls and dipping it in milk, but the dog turned its head away when he offered it. Let him sleep, he thought.

He was drifting off to sleep himself when the air popped and Dobby appeared again, holding a bag. "Dobby is bringing things for the dog, Professor Lupin," he said, putting the bag by the desk. "And one other thing," Dobby's face looked very serious. He snapped his fingers, and, suddenly, several empty shelves against the wall were now filled with books.

"Professor Snape is asking that these books be sent to Professor Lupin today," Dobby said, glancing at the dog.

Lupin stared at the books for a moment. "Yes," he said. "Yes, he told me. Thank you, Dobby, I'm taking care of them for him. And thank you again for the supplies."

Dobby nodded, then vanished again.

Lupin looked at the books, and his stomach felt empty, despite being full of food. He looked down at the dog's head, still in his lap, eyes closed. That's how you planned for me to find out, Severus, he thought. No note, no anything. Just the books.

Of course, he thought he'd be dead by now. Lupin's hand closed around the dog's skull for a moment. You're here, you're not dead, you're going to live, he thought. The dog's eyes opened, barely, looking up at him. Lupin went back to gently rubbing its ears, and the dog's eyes closed.

He dozed some after that, he and the dog together. He had only just opened his eyes, and was wondering what time it was, when he heard a soft knocking at the door, and a voice said, "It's Hermione."

"Come in," he said, softly - those words would undo the spell on the door.

The door opened, just enough to allow Hermione to slip through, and she closed it quickly behind her. She looked more her normal self than she had this morning, she'd clearly had a wash and a change, and hopefully some breakfast.

"How's he doing?" she asked.

"Still asleep," Lupin said.

Hermione pulled a chair over and sat down. "Hagrid's keeping his trunk and cloak down at his place."

Lupin nodded. "Good. So no one will know he hasn't really left Hogwarts."

Hermione nodded. Her eyes turned to the dog.

"This is a terrible thing we've done to him," she said.

"I know." Lupin sighed. "One more terrible thing, in a long string of terrible things that have been done to him."

Hermione was quiet. She pulled her knees up, into the chair, and wrapped her arms around them. "It's not fair. That Dumbledore let him become this."

"Dumbledore didn't force him to make any of the choices he made. He just didn't intervene when he might have. He usually doesn't. He lets people make their own choices." Lupin looked sadly at the dog's head in his lap. "He can't really do anything else, can he? We all act as if he's all-knowing, we forget that he's human, just one man, no matter how remarkable. He can't be there for everyone. No one can." Lupin looked into the dog's face. "I think Severus would say he made his own choices, freely."

"Did he really? Have a chance to make choices? Did he have the same chances that you or I had?" Hermione said.

"No," Lupin said, "but no one has the same chances." He was still looking at the dog's face. "But I agree, he had worse than most. I am amazed that he has turned out as well as he has, given what he's had to overcome."

"It's not fair," Hermione said.

"No, it isn't," Lupin said. "But life is not fair. Believe me, I know."

"I know you do," Hermione said quietly.

"If you're going to blame anyone, blame Voldemort," Lupin said.

Hermione nodded. "Except that he came from an awful life, too. Raised alone, in an orphanage."

"That's the problem with blaming people. It's never that simple." Lupin cocked his head. "Although I will say that there have been plenty of other children who were raised in orphanages and had lonely lives who did not turn into evil, murderous dark wizards who wanted to take over the world. But even that is probably too simple."

He scrunched down into the sofa, and pulled the dog's head closer, wrapped his arms around the thin neck. "And there are not very many who turned to the dark who still had the sense of what was good and right, and the courage to turn back." He looked into the dog's face, and watched as the lids blinked, and opened, and the dog looked back into his eyes. Lupin was very still. Then the eyes closed again, and the dog leaned against him, pushing more of its body into Lupin's lap, and its head up further against Lupin's chest.

Lupin held the dog's head to him. "I know Severus never blamed Dumbledore."

The dog sighed, the big chest rising, and falling slowly.

"And now," Lupin said, "we see if we can give him the ability to be happy. Or at least content."

"By doing this to him," Hermione said. "By forcing this on him. And taking away his memories. As if we're so sure we know what's best for him. How dare we?"

Lupin's eyes looked fierce for a moment. "I'll do whatever it takes to keep him from going into that mountain, or seeing him locked up."

"He'll know that a part of his life is missing. When we bring him back."

"We'll make something up. Tell him he's been unconscious the whole time, while some kind of therapy was being done. It's close enough to the truth."

"But it's still a lie."

"So we lie." Lupin sighed. "Look, I don't like this. And maybe we can tell him, someday. But only if it won't hurt him. I'm not going to confess all to him just to relieve my guilty conscience, not if it will hurt him."

"And how would you feel, if we all ganged up on you, decided what was best for you, and did something like this without your permission?"

"Given my affliction," Lupin said, dryly, "that's not exactly an unlikely scenario. And if you, and Dumbledore, and Hagrid, and Severus all agreed that I was in peril, that I was incapable of deciding rationally for myself, and that something this drastic had to be done to me, I'd say that I was lucky to have such good friends. And that I know I could place my fate in your hands without a qualm."

Hermione frowned at him.

"I trust you, Hermione," Lupin said. "I trust Dumbledore, I trust Hagrid, I trust Severus. And I'd certainly trust any decision the four of you came up with." He shrugged. "But you're absolutely right about one thing. Always be very wary of anything that people say they're doing 'for your own good.' Those are very dangerous words."

Hermione nodded. "It reminds me of that awful Umbridge woman. It's the kind of thing she would say."

Lupin smiled. "I'm so glad I never met her." He shrugged again. "Too often, we don't get to choose between a good choice and a bad choice. Mostly, it's between a bad choice, and an even worse one."

"I know," Hermione said. "I'm sorry, I'm not blaming you, not at all, and I agreed to this, too. It's just . . ."

"It's just that you want to make sure we all know it's a bad choice, and we're aware of why it's bad." Lupin nodded. "We do and we are. But we have done it now, we've made the choice." He looked into the dog's face. "So now we will tell him how good he is, what a hero he is. Let him learn to feel safe around people."

"He won't remember," Hermione said.

"He won't remember that we told him anything, but he'll feel it in his heart. Or at least, that's the idea."

Hermione nodded. "You know," she said, thoughtfully, "if he gets a wash and a good brushing, and maybe a little food into him, he might not be that bad looking. For a dog."

She moved closer, raised her hand, and moved it slowly towards the bony, black head.

Instantly, the dog pulled back to the opposite corner of the sofa, pressing into the cushions, quivering, terrified.

Hermione drew back immediately, crouching low, trying to look harmless, no threat.

"It's all right," Lupin said gently to the dog, but to Hermione as well, "It's all right." He held his hand out to the frightened creature, and met the black eyes with his own. The dog stopped shaking, and stood very still. Lupin moved his hand closer, still speaking softly, stopping just in front of the dog's long nose. "That's right, smell my hand," he said. "You know me."

The dog looked at him. Then leaned forward and touched Lupin's hand with its nose. The dog breathed in deeply, once, slowly. Then he slid his nose under Lupin's hand, letting Lupin's fingers glide up along the bony front, over the skull, until Lupin was able to rub his fingers behind the ears. Lupin moved down the sofa, closer, and the dog leaned his head against Lupin's chest, while Lupin dug his fingers deep into the long, straggly hair of the dog's neck, until the dog was breathing softly again, and its eyes closed.

"I'm sorry, Professor," Hermione whispered.

"It's all right," Lupin said. "It just shows how far we have to go with him. He's got to be frightened now, everything is strange to him. Once he's used to this, he'll be better."

Hermione nodded. "But he was afraid of me, he was terrified."

Lupin smiled. "You're a pretty, young woman. Of course he's terrified."

Hermione flushed, then looked thoughtful. "I suppose the girls weren't very nice to him, back at school."

"No."

She looked down. "You know," she said, "there are times when I think people are just horrible."

Lupin leaned back into the sofa and looked up at the ceiling. "People are horrible, and wonderful, and everything in between."

"I suppose so." Hermione looked over at the clock, and started. "I'd better go, it's almost lunch time, and Harry will be looking for me. We don't want him looking here, not today." She nodded at the dog. "If he acted that way towards me, who knows how he'll act towards Harry."

Lupin nodded. "It'll have to happen sometime, but yes, not today, not until he gets used to being like this."

"I'll make sure Harry doesn't come, then." Hermione stood up. She walked across the room, opened the door, and shut it quietly behind her.

Lupin dozed a little after that, he and the dog together. He woke up when Dobby brought lunch. He ate, and was able to spoon-feed a little of some mushy stuff in a bowl to the dog, who woke up just enough to swallow. The dog drank a little water as well, although at first he tried to fit his mouth around the rim of the bowl, as if he were drinking from a glass. Lupin, careful not to laugh, patiently maneuvered the bowl under his mouth, and pushed his nose in, and the dog managed a few swallows.

Then they both settled back on the sofa. Lupin called a book over from the shelf, and sat quietly reading, holding the book in one hand, stroking the dog’s head with the other.

And so the afternoon passed, and evening came. Dinner was a repeat of lunch, as far as feeding the dog was concerned. He's going to expect me to spoon-feed him all the time after this, Lupin thought.

The dilemma came when Lupin was tired enough to go to bed. Dog on the sofa, he thought, me in the bed. Dogs aren't supposed to sleep in bed, not big ones, right? Doesn't it make them think they're pack dominants if that happens? He’s already bad enough that way, I don’t want to encourage it.

The dog was sleeping, side rising and falling. Lupin carefully slid out from under, propping a pillow under the big head. He walked slowly and silently toward the bedroom, only to stop in mid-step at a heart-rending whimper.

He turned. The dog's head was up, awake, and it looked at him with the most pleading eyes he'd ever seen.

He sighed. Either he sleeps with me on the bed, or I have to spend the night on the sofa. "All right." I can't say just for tonight, either, because that won't happen. He went back to the sofa, and picked the dog up, not an easy thing to do, the dog was large and very heavy, and Lupin still wasn't up to full strength yet. Staggering a little, he carried the dog into the bedroom, and laid it on the bed.

The dog lifted its head, and watched as he pulled off his robes, and headed into the bathroom.

When he came out of the bathroom, the dog was under the covers, head on the pillow. Lupin mentally threw up his hands. He pulled on his nightshirt and slid into bed, calling out the command to extinguish the lights.

The dog moved close to him, its back against his side. Lupin sighed, and reached an arm over the skinny body. "Well, we're packmates, aren't we, my friend," Lupin said. "Packmates sleep together." The dog shifted against him, and Lupin couldn't help adding, with a grin, "I hope this doesn't give you any funny thoughts when you're human again, though." The dog turned its head to look at him, then laid it back down on the pillow. Lupin gave it a few pats on the side. And soon both of them were asleep.

-

TBC