Chapter 2 : Furry time of the month
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I wake up to a white abyss.
A stain glass window opens the clinic room to the glowing sunlight, it illuminates every stone wall and starched bed sheet. The patients a few feet away from me nestled in their beds are also pale and glowing.
The metronome of my own heart makes me glance at a electronic device beside my bed, along with a hanging bag of clear liquid that is cabled to the inner part of my elbow, I recognize myself to be in a very modernized St. Mungo’s.
A familiar clack of dress shoes on marble floors, alarms me that my father is near.
As he appears around the corner I force a smile onto my face. His face is completely drained of color leaving him to look like a ghost, and his fair hair sticks to his forehead ever so slightly with clammy sweat. Under his eyes are bruise like bags from lack of sleep.
At the sight of my his breath hitches and his strides hasten until he is by my side, cradling my hand in his own. I stroke the family emblem with my thumb, it is a metal snake coiled to shape a ring. It’s eyes are actual emeralds.
I remember playing with it during our phase of going to a muggle church, my father would hold my hand as we kneeled together in the pews. With our heads bowed in prayer I would study his face. Even at such a young age I know a repentant man when I see one, and my father was paying for his sins in a humbled humility. Dad’s lips moved silently in prayer and I read them fluently.
“Forgive me father, I was only trying to save my parents from the choice they chose. Forgive me for being cowardly and help me teach my children what bravery looks like.”
In a small voice I’d wipe my daddy’s tear soaked, stubbly, cheeks and tell him that I thought he was the bravest Daddy I knew.
“Lia are you in pain?” Dad’s voice asks rawly, his haggard face pleated with wrinkles.
I shake my head, but the frown pulling at my mouth must tell him otherwise because he calls a nurse in to give me a potion.
After gulping the vile tasting liquid, he inquires, in a gentle voice, of my memories. “Do you...remember how you got there?” This question is broken, and in his glassy eyes I see a mixture of melancholy and anger.
“Yes, I walked there to dance.” I tell him, my puzzlement driving my brow into a deep V.
I note the pinch of color returning to his face as he looks heavenwards and mouths a ‘thank you’. I don’t understand the relief unfolding across his features, and he notices my confusion.
“The auror’s had a theory...” Dad’s face darkens and he glared fiercely at the bedsheets, unable to meet my questioning gaze. “That a group of people took advantage of you, and left you in the meadow, knowing that there was a werewolf lying in wait.”
Again I am confused. “Why would they think someone took...advantage of me?” My voice trembles on the word ‘advantage’. I am struck with the fear that something more did happen than the werewolf attack, and I was obliviated to think otherwise.
“When we found you, your clothes were torn and away and your body was covered in massive bruises that greatly resembled hand prints. It was a stretch for sure, but that was the only conclusion they could come up with for the bruises.” Dad told me, his eyes becoming heavy and his voice tuning monotone as if he’d repeated this fact over and over to several people.
“Dad?” I ask, changing the subject. “Where is mum?”
Father lifts his head, and again his face is masked by something I can’t place. “She is at home with Scorpius, the house is under surveillance until we find out who in our extended family gave the permission for a rabid werewolf to come on our land.”
I shiver, not quite wanting to know the answer to the looming question. “Who do you think did it?” Dad falls silent, he is troubled and struggles for words, when he is interrupted by a nurse; he visibly is relieved.
“Mr. Lupin is here as you requested.” The lady in scrubs says, before standing back so that a man can enter into the hospital room.
I recognize him from the cover of Witch Weekly, where he had a photoshoot after being named ‘hottest bloke in Scotland’. He is also well renowned for being half werewolf, half metamorphous and Harry Potter’s god son.
His eyes are a tawny color and they sit beneath arched brows of the brown color. His hair is sandy blond and glints golden in the sunlight. Beneath sunkissed skin are his bulging arm muscles, and at the wrist bone is a small black tattoo in the shape of a Phoenix.
“So,” Teddy says in a gravelly voice. “You're the famous Malfoy girl.”
I smirk. “Your even more famous Lupin Boy.” My remark draws a bright smile from him, which I find myself mirroring much to my fathers amusement.
Dad interject with; “Mr. Lupin has offered so graciously to help you deal with the complications of being a new werewolf. He is the best in his studies.” Teddy purses his mouth, eyeing my father with interest, like he is unable to define my father.
I don’t appreciate the judgemental scrutiny. “Really?” My voice drips with disdain.
Teddy’s topaz eyes snap to my face with surprise at my distaste, when just seconds before I’d given him a smile. “Yes.” He says almost carefully, this makes me even angrier that he acts like I’m a walking bomb.
Well sitting bomb.
“Dad, can I talk to Teddy alone for a moment?” I ask, politely.
My father shoots me a look, but rises to his feet either way and after exchanging a respectful handshake with teddy he leaves the room quietly.
Teddy takes a seat next to me, and crosses his arms across his tan trench coat, we settle into a brooding silence. Finally I break it with; “No matter what you family has said about my father, he is not a bad man. Do not look down on him.”
Teddy looks startled by my comment and back pedals. “I never looked down on him! Lia I am not here to judge you or your family, you have no need to be so defensive around me. I am here to help you.”
I sit up in my bed, glad for the numbing spell that was so obviously put on my by the hospital staff and inspect him once more. After deeming him genuine I sigh and slump against the metal headboard. “How are you going to help me?’
Teddy’s eyes brighten, and he leans forward ever so slightly as if I’ve caught his interest. “Well being that we both have furry time of the month, and I've been having one since I was born, I could help you immensely.”
I try not to snigger at his phrase; 'Furry time of the month' It sounds like a demented man period.
“What about the people who are trying to hurt me?” I notice how young sound as I ask this question with a shaky voice, full of blatant fear. I saw how dark witches and wizards destroyed my fathers life and I wanted no part of his tragedy.
Teddy gripped my hand unconsciously, and whispered with utmost courage. “Lia with me you are safe.”
The worst part was that while looking straight into his tawny eyes; I believed him.
Okay readers, I have noticed that while I'm writting a novel and most of my time is devoted to that aspect of writting i have failed Harry Potter Fan Fic. My writting on this website is lazy and doesn't illistrate my real talents. So I thought I'd edit this story into oblivion and give it a face lift. Good with you? Awesome. Tell me what you think loyal readers, I greatly appreciate it.
~ Lanniejo over and out
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