The Wounded

The Wounded

Chapter 8

Hermione took one last look at Lupin as he sat on the couch, the black dog that had been Professor Snape asleep in his lap. Then she quietly shut the door.

Is it only noon? she thought as she walked down the corridor. It felt like a lifetime had passed since the day had started, when she'd been awakened by the alarm from the mirror. She suddenly felt exhausted, and she leaned against the cool, stone wall. I'll feel better with some lunch in me, she thought. And she willed herself to stand upright and walk down the corridor.

The Great Hall was beginning to fill up with students. Harry and Ron were just sitting down at the Gryffindor table; Harry waved at her as she came through the doorway. The room was bright today, the ceiling above showed a brilliant blue sky, dotted with puffy clouds. She'd hardly noticed the weather this morning, there'd been too much else to worry about.

She sat down with Harry and Ron. A lot of the other summer students sat down around them -- Harry and Ron's Quiddich playing friends, mostly. Harry seemed bright and awake, but Ron was quiet.

"Anything wrong?" Hermione asked him.

Ron winced. "No, not really. It's just . . ." He sighed. "Well, Mum's decided that if I'm well enough to play Quiddich every day, I'm well enough to get a job. So, after this week, I'll be working for my brothers, Fred and George, helping out at their shop."

There was an awkward silence for a moment. Ron had been almost a sure pick for professional Quiddich, until he'd been wounded at Hogsmeade by the Death Eaters. It had been his dream, to play, and now there was very little chance for it.

"I know working at Fred and George's shop isn't what you want to do with your life," Hermione said, a little too brightly, "but it will be very good experience. I bet you'll learn loads there, and it'll help you when you decide what you really want to do." Her voice dwindled off.

Harry threw her a disgusted look, but Ron shrugged and said, "Yeah, that's how I figure it. I've been thinking, I'd like to get into Quiddich supplies, maybe have a shop of my own, or work in the manufacturing end. Working for Fred and George will help me either way." He grinned, bravely, "It was bound to happen, I can't put off the real world anymore. All my brothers were working right out of school." He looked at Harry. "I can still pop over here after work, though, now that I'm legal to Apparate, so you won't be rid of me."

Harry was quiet. Hermione said, quickly, "I'm counting on us all getting together in the evenings, when training starts for Harry and me in the fall."

"You'll still be coming by, for the rest of the summer, won't you, Hermione?" Harry asked.

Hermione gulped. "Well, my parents really want me to go on vacation with them, the last month of summer." She looked at Harry. "It's been hard for them, you know, sending me off to school here, not seeing me for most of the year." She bit her lip. She hadn't counted on Ron not being here for Harry. "I can pop over here, though, anytime. Or you can Apparate over to where I am, too. You'll be legal at the end of the month."

Harry's face looked pained. We're abandoning him, Hermione thought.

"You won't be alone here," she said, desperately. "You've got Hagrid and Dobby and Professor Lupin here with you."

"Yeah, speaking of Professor Lupin," Ron said, "did you hear? He's going to be taking care of a dog. That should be fun, maybe you could help him with it."

"A dog?" Harry said, "What for?"

"Dunno," Ron said. "I heard it was just temporary, he's not keeping it. Just as well, being a werewolf and all, probably can't keep pets long term. Too much danger of them being eaten, I'd guess." He brightened up. "Later today, let's go by and see him, take a look at it."

"No, Ron, we can't," Hermione said, quickly. Harry and Ron both looked at her. "I heard about the dog, too, and it's, well--" she tried to think, franticly, "--it's been badly treated, and Professor Lupin is going to work on rehabilitating it. But he needs time alone with it, to let it get used to him first." Harry and Ron both looked skeptical. "But I'm sure, once it's settled in, Professor Lupin would like you to help him," she finished.

Ron shrugged. "Okay, so we don't go see him today." Harry shrugged as well. He looked disappointed.

Plates of food suddenly appeared before them, and they began to serve themselves. Ron glanced up at the High Table. He blinked, grinned, and nudged Harry. "Look who's not up there today."

Harry and Hermione turned to look. Harry shook his head. "Who? Even Dumbledore's here, for a change."

Ron shook his head. "Over to the left. His Greasy Gitness is gone."

Hermione froze.

"He left this morning," a voice said coolly. They turned, and saw Blaise Zabini watching them, from where he sat further along the table. "He told us he was leaving, and that whenever he left, it would be sudden. He didn't want any fuss."

Ron's eyes gleamed, and he opened his mouth, and Hermione said, firmly, "Don't say it, Ron. Don't say anything." Ron looked at her, then at Blaise, and closed his mouth.

Harry's face was dark, as he stared at the empty chair at the High Table.

"I know you didn't like him," Blaise said. "He didn't give you reason to. But he protected us, as best he could. We always knew."

Hermione nodded. "We understand." She glared at Harry and Ron. Ron glared back at her, but didn't take it any further, and began to concentrate on the food on his plate.

Harry continued to stare at the High Table. "I'm sick of you defending him," he said, under his breath, eyes sliding sideways to Hermione. "How can you?"

"How many times has he saved your life?" Hermione said, tartly.

"Sirius is dead because of him," Harry said, anger dripping from every word.

"That's not true," Hermione said.

"Of course it's true," Harry said. "He wasn't fit to lick Sirius's feet, and he as good as killed him. I hate him, the bastard. I hope he runs his broomstick into a cliff and breaks his neck."

Hermione felt hot rage flow up her face to the crown of her head. "You just want to have someone else to blame, because you can't face up to it that it's YOUR fault Sirius is dead!"

Harry pulled back, thunderstruck. Ron's mouth dropped open.

Hermione put her face in her hands. "Oh Harry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, not like that. I'm just very tired today." She looked up at him. "But don't you see, it's not anyone's fault. Or maybe it's everyone's fault. I didn't think to go to Professor Snape either, that day. If we'd just gone to him, he'd have found out that Sirius was safe. We'd have never gone to the Ministry."

She took a deep breath. "And we'd never have defeated Voldemort that day, too. Or we might have faced Voldemort another day, for another reason, and Sirius could have fallen then. Or not. We'll never know." She looked at Harry, her eyes pleading.

Harry's face was almost black with rage. He stood up from the table, eyes boring into Hermione's face. Then he turned and walked stiffly toward the doorway.

"What did you go and do that for?" Ron said angrily to Hermione. "How could you say that to him?"

"Because it's true," Hermione said. She shook her head. "I wish I'd said it better, and picked a better time, but it's true."

"Rubbish!" Ron said. "It's not true at all!" He looked at her, "You'd think you were in love with that greasy bastard, the way you've defended him all these years. Well, I'm with Harry, if he broke his neck, the world would be a better place."

Hermione turned pale. She took a deep breath. Then, very slowly and deliberately, she stood up from the table. She took another deep breath, then walked toward the Great Hall entrance.

Ron watched her, stunned. And around him, he heard the sound of other people rising, up and down the table. He turned, and saw Blaise, and the other Slytherins, all standing, all looking pointedly at him. Then they all silently picked up their plates, and carried them over to the Slytherin table.

Ron looked up and down the now nearly deserted Gryffindor table. So much for Quiddich this afternoon, he thought, glumly.

-

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It was the next morning. Lupin stirred, and became aware of the big, furry shape huddled against him. For a moment, he panicked -- I'm back with the werewolf pack! Then he remembered, and breathed a sigh of relief.

He opened his eyes. The black dog lay still, head on the pillow, back pressed against him. Lupin smiled, and rubbed his fingers through the silky hair. That was the one good thing about the pack, he thought, being able to lie close together, all of them, rank forgotten, just the comfort of all those warm, furry bodies.

There was also the odor of dog. He'd have to give him a bath soon. That was going to be an experience.

He stretched, then sat up. The dog still slept, bony ribs rising and falling under the blankets. Lupin quietly swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He pulled off his nightshirt, and padded into the bathroom.

When he came back, opening the bathroom door and reaching for his robes, the dog lifted its head from the pillow and looked at him. Lupin bowed and gestured at the bathroom, "All yours."

The dog struggled out from under the covers. Its face had a dazed, sleepy look, and it shook its head, ears flapping, straggly hair swinging around its face. Then it swung its hind end off the bed, reaching with hind paws towards the floor - not the way a dog would jump down, but like a man, swinging his legs to the ground.

Only for the hind legs to skid and slide apart. Lupin darted forward and caught the dog by the chest, only just in time to stop it from falling hard. The dog's eyes were wide and frightened, and it leaned against Lupin's chest and gave a soft whimper.

"Careful," Lupin said. "You're not used to this yet." He turned the dog's body until its legs hung down. "Here, let's see if you can stand up." He gently straightened each quivering leg, making sure each paw connected with the floor, all the while holding the dog's body against his chest with his other arm. He tentatively let a little weight free to be supported by the shaky legs. So far, so good, he thought. He let a little more weight fall, and a little more.

Too much. The dog's legs slid out and his belly whacked against the floor. The dog's whole body was shaking now, in confusion and fear. And frustration, Lupin couldn't help thinking, looking at the dog's face.

"It's all right," Lupin said, soothingly. "That was my fault, I shouldn't have let go all the way like that, you weren't ready." He reached under the dog's belly and pulled him up again. Not so easy to do, the dog was big and heavy. The dog tried to help, pawing with his long legs, trying to get a fix against the floor, but only succeeded in getting tangled up. Lupin held him very still, and managed to pull each leg free, and position them again.

"Now, let's try it again," Lupin crooned. This time, the dog managed to keep his legs straight, and Lupin was able to let him take all his own weight, although Lupin still kept his arm around the dog's body, holding him steady.

The dog still shook. But his face wasn't frightened anymore. Instead, it bore an all too familiar expression of anger. And determination. Lupin remembered that look, from when Snape was a boy, about to challenge James in something that was only going to result in Snape getting pummeled, but he'd still do it anyway. Lupin couldn't help shaking his head at the memory. That anger was so often your undoing, Lupin thought. It would make you do such stupid things. But it's also your drive, it's what sustains you.

The dog took one hesitant step forward, with one front paw, and Lupin had to catch him again to keep him from falling. You have four legs to keep track of now, my friend, not just two.

The dog looked wildly around - what now? "The back leg, here," Lupin said, touching it with his free arm. The dog moved it forward. This time, he stayed up.

"Now the other front leg," Lupin said, tapping it lightly with a finger. The dog moved it - lift, forward, place paw, put weight down. "Good boy," Lupin crooned again.

He looked up and sighed. It was going to be a long way to the bathroom.

-

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-

Sev-the-Dog, as Lupin began to call him in his mind -- have to come up with another name soon, Lupin told himself -- was able to move on his own, though very hesitantly and carefully, by the time Dobby came with their breakfast. Lupin started, as Dobby popped into the room, and Lupin turned to the dog, who was standing only a few feet away. But the dog simply glanced at Dobby, unconcerned. Lupin couldn't help but feel puzzled -- granted, the dog hadn't reacted much to Dobby yesterday, but he'd been practically asleep.

Dobby grinned, and said, "Professor Lupin should not be worrying, that one is not being afraid of Dobby." Then Dobby looked more serious. "That one, he is often afraid, in his heart. Of many things. But never of Dobby, or any of the House Elves. He knows we is not hurting him, he is always knowing that."

And sure enough, the dog merely watched calmly as Dobby set the breakfast tray on a table. Lupin wondered, Did you have House Elves in your home, Severus, as a boy? The Snapes were one of the oldest of the old Wizard families, surely that came with House Elves.

The tray deposited, Dobby approached the dog where it stood, and bowed, then extended a long-fingered hand. The dog leaned forward, and touched the end of one finger with the tip of its nose, then allowed Dobby to trace along its face, over the eyes, and down the back of its head.

"See, Professor Lupin," Dobby said. "He is knowing. Dobby is his friend, Dobby is keeping his secrets."

"I see," Lupin said. "I'm glad, Dobby. He doesn't have many friends."

Dobby nodded. He bowed again to the dog, then turned back to Lupin, smiled, and popped out.

Something in Lupin rebelled at making Sev-the-Dog eat on the floor. Probably because he didn't care for it himself when he was in wolf form. He's still a human being, no matter what he looks like. But people would question if he allowed him to pull up a chair and eat at a table, and, in any case, the only chairs that were big enough were the big, overstuffed ones by the fireplace. Lupin solved the dilemma by pulling over an ottoman close to the sofa. After a moment's thought, he covered the ottoman with a napkin from the tray. Thinking further, he put another napkin on top of it. Then he put the two bowls Dobby had brought on top; one had milk in it, the other, some kind of mushy stuff.

Sev-the-Dog climbed up onto the sofa, with a little help from Lupin, and positioned himself in front of the bowls. And there was the puzzled look again.

Lupin sighed. Might as well get comfortable, he thought, and he moved his own chair over by the sofa, pulling the table with his own breakfast close by. He picked up a large spoon, and dipped it into the mush. Sev-the-Dog leaned forward and delicately took the spoon into his mouth, closing his lips around the bowl like a human, then pulling back and releasing the spoon. A moment savoring the stuff, then a swallow. Black eyes looked coolly at Lupin, then flicked down to the bowl, and up again. Typical, thought Lupin. He's not feeling degraded at all at being spoon-fed, he's taking it as his due.

He dipped the spoon in again, but held it lower to the bowl. Sev-the-Dog looked at him imperiously, but Lupin said, "Oh no, you reach down and get it." He could swear the dog actually glared at him, but it lowered its head with great dignity, and took the spoon.

Bite by bite, Lupin lowered the spoon, until it was in the bowl, and then he removed the spoon altogether. "No, you get it yourself now," he said, sternly, as the dog looked up at him. The dog glared again, then looked down at the bowl. Up at him, down at the bowl. Then down went the big head, the black lips opened, and he took a bite of mush. Lupin was about to say, "Good boy" but the black eyes glared up at him, as if to say, "Don't you dare" so Lupin merely nodded his head respectfully.

And then turned to his own meal. Which, thankfully, consisted of a lot of things he could eat with his fingers, since he'd forbidden the spoon to the dog. Bacon, toast, juice, tea. There were scrambled eggs, too, but he scooped them up with a piece of bread. And when Sev-the-Dog looked with extreme interest at whatever he was eating, he'd pass a nibble his way. Dobby did say he should be able to eat human food, he thought, and it's just a few bites. Fortunately, Sev-the-Dog had not yet picked up the classic dog eyes. Would he ever? Lupin himself had mastered the Look years ago, and used it frequently, but somehow, he couldn't picture this dog, or Severus, ever learning it.

And when Sev-the-Dog had licked the bowls clean and Lupin was just settling back in his chair with a cup of tea, the dog looked at him, then looked at the place on the sofa where Lupin had sat the day before, then back at Lupin. Lupin sighed, and smiled, and moved over to the sofa, and the dog stretched out, and laid his head back in Lupin's lap. Another day on the sofa, Lupin thought. Good thing for you I'm still a recovering invalid, or this would drive me crazy. I haven't left the room for over 24 hours now. He picked up his book and began to read, his free hand idly rubbing the dog's ears.

Suddenly, there was a burst of colored flames in the fireplace, and Hermione's face appeared in the middle of the flickering lights. She looked very tired, as if she hadn't slept well.

Lupin sat up. Beside him, Sev-the-Dog lifted his head sharply, and he pressed against Lupin, muscles tense.

"Professor Lupin," she said, her voice tired and strained. "Something stupid and awful's happened."

"Tell me," Lupin said, calmly. He ran a hand along the dog's back -- it's all right, it's all right. Sev-the-Dog did not relax.

Hermione grimaced, and nodded. "Harry and I had a fight yesterday. A bad one, and I said some things I shouldn't have. I'm sure he's not speaking to me, not for a while."

"Harry won't still be mad today, will he?" Lupin said.

"I'm afraid so. I told him it was his fault that Sirius was dead."

Lupin blinked. "Oh. Yes, I can see where he would be upset about that."

"He said some really ugly things about Professor Snape, and how it was Professor Snape's fault Sirius was dead, and then he said a few more things, and I lost my temper."

"Oh," Lupin said, weakly.

"I said I was sorry, right afterwards. I said it wasn't anyone's fault. But it was too late, he just stormed out of the Hall. Then Ron was beastly and I stormed out of the Hall."

Lupin felt the dog's cold nose on his hand, nudging him. He'd stopped petting him, his hand had gone still. He started rubbing the soft hair in his fingers, while he thought.

"Any word on how Harry is today?"

"No, I haven't seen or heard from him. Or Ron either." She shrugged. "I'm going to be fine. I'm still mad at both of them, and I meant what I said, but we've had fights before. I'm going on a vacation with my parents, and we'll have made up long before I get back. I'm just worried about Harry. You see, Ron told us he's going to start working for his brothers. Harry will have Ron for a few more days, but then he's going to be alone. And he was really angry yesterday. I haven't seen him that angry since, well, since Sirius was killed."

Lupin nodded. "As you say, he never saw clearly when it came to Sirius." He sighed. "Which, in other circumstances, would be harmless. If anyone deserved to be hero worshipped, it was Sirius." Despite his flaws, Lupin thought. You were great in all things, my friend, in your virtues and your faults. Lupin felt his hand tighten around the dog beside him.

"Harry is still pretty adamant about his hatred for Severus," Lupin said carefully.

"Very," Hermione said. "That's why I got so angry. To hear him say the things that he said, after everything that happened yesterday . . ." And her eyes turned to the dog.

"I understand," Lupin said. "I would have felt the same."

"You wouldn't have told him off, though," Hermione said.

Lupin looked down at the dog. "I don't know. As you say, yesterday was not a good day." He thought of Severus, sitting under the tree, looking up at the mountain, and he pressed his hand against the dog's head. "I'll see if I can talk to Harry, today." He looked at the dog again. "Although I'll have to probably put a sleep spell on him," with a nod at the dog.

"I know," Hermione said. "Although Harry sounded very interested when he heard you had a dog."

And at that moment, her face began to flicker, and another face seemed to be trying to appear in her place. Lupin squinted, and was astonished to see a shock of black hair, and glasses.

"It's Harry," Lupin said. "He's trying to get through."

"Then I'll be off," Hermione said, quickly. "Do what you can - good-bye, Professor."

Her face faded out, and Harry's flickered and then grew solid in her place.

"Professor Lupin--" he started to say, then stopped, green eyes wide in astonishment as the dog beside Lupin started to its feet, eyes flashing, ears flat against its skull, and the hair along its back standing straight up as if electrified. It bared enormous yellow fangs and growled like low thunder. And, at the same time, pressed hard against Lupin, as if trying to hide behind him, its entire body quaking in terror.

-

TBC