The Werewolf: Part III

Surrounded by happy house elves and warmed by a six-foot tall fireplace, the pale girl and sandy-haired boy sat on the kitchen counter, eating burgers.

"How did you know I wanted burgers?" Remus asked.

"You said so that one day." She chewed happily.

"You…heard me?" His eyes widened.

"Moonstone heard you." Stella said.

Stella placed the moonstone near Remus's lips. He mumbled a few words and moments later, they were enscribed on her own rock.

"The Healers use a similar charm on their charts," She said. "To message one another in the hospital."

"How do you know all of them – the healers and nurses and patients?"

She smiled, "I've been here for a long time. My father is a healer here, and I sometimes stay the night during his long shifts."

The more they talked to each other, the less awkward Remus felt. After all, he was sitting underground eating a burger with a girl who spied on him through a rock. Maybe it was the fact that he had so many unanswered questions. Or just the fact that he was lonely for friendship, and the girl was extending kindness through offering him the first meat he had in weeks.

Whatever it was, Remus stayed talking to her. Against all natural his tendencies to shy away from girls his age, he stayed. And for the remaining five months of his hospital stay, he was very glad he did. After all that had happened, he finally felt normal, eating a burger with his newly-made friend.

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As it turned out, most of the long-term residents in the hospital had received a small red box at some point in their stay. He learned this while following Stella on adventures the next few months, sneaking into rooms and slipping these tiny gifts when no was looking. As someone who grew up in hospitals, she was familiar with how desolate the environment could be to patients. Rather than spending her time bored in her father's office, she passed the time organizing these small gift operations that now involved Remus as an accomplice. Although it was now clear to Remus why she pursued these projects, he was still puzzled to find out how she knew what to get them every time.

"I just have a hunchhe'll need this," She whispered one day, tucking a box near a sleeping old wizard.

"But how do you know?" He asked for the hundredth time.

As usual, she only responded with a smile and then ran to drop off the next present.

It was startling how accurate these "hunches" were. It turned out the crying toddler in Ward A really did need a stuffed bear to calm him at night. And the old woman in 4B just happened to need new knitting needles as well – with matching yarn the exact color of the scarf she worked on at home. Stella tried to convince him that she spent a lot of time eavesdropping on nurses and patients confessing these needs.

And yet, he would never EVER tell anyone, not even Martha, about how afraid he was of the moon.

"You're a werewolf, duh." She was in his room one afternoon playing a game of exploding snap. "I just figured you would be…"

It was a warm afternoon, and Remus was strapped to his bed. Potion dripped through the tubes into his arm.

The last card she placed on the house of cards exploded into a sizzling display of sparkles and confetti. She giggled and clapped her hands.

"Can you not say that too loud." He responded with a mumble.

"What?"

"You know…" He eyed the door. "…werewolf…"

Her eyes widened in confusion, "But…you ARE one."

Remus began to clean up the cards on the bed. His mouth formed a grim line, and he could feel the tips of his ears turn very warm. An uncomfortable silence fell between them. After months of being friends, they still had not confronted this topic. Remus always made sure to steer them away from talking about it. When he was around her, he felt temporarily removed from his life. He could forget about the wolfsbane potion and the scars every month.

Stella sat facing him on his bed, waiting for his reaction. Her head cocked quizzically to the side as she asked, "Is something wrong?"

" I just don't like you talking about it so casually." He grumbled. "I know I'm a werewolf, but you don't need to remind me."

"But…It's not a big deal."

His eyes grew in disbelief, "NOT a big deal?!"

He could not believe she was talking about the single, most horrible thing to ever happen to him without any sensitivity or awareness. He could not believe she had the nerve to sit there acting so clueless about what this possibly meant to him.

"How would YOU know, about it 'not being a big deal'?" He cried out bitterly. "How could you possibly know anything about what its really like?"

As soon as those words came out, he immediately regretted it. An awkward silence followed his furious words.

She sat there thinking to herself, before finally saying, "Because I'm a werewolf too."

Remus lifted his head up at these words and studied her closer. She stared back, wide-eyed and blank.

"No you're not…"

"Yes I am!"

"Someone would have told me."

"Why would they? No one talks about YOU being one all the time."

"Actually, a lot of people do. Reporters come in here sometimes."

"Well I'm pretty secretive about myself."

"People tell me I'm the youngest one in Britain right now."

"Except for me."

"I would have seen you transformed."

"Why do you think I disappear every now and then?"

Remus continued to stare at her. Even after being close friends, she was still hard to read.

But what she said about disappearing was true. Usually she was at the hospital every other day, but vanished sometimes for whole weeks.

"You don't disappear once a month though." He responded.

She stared up at the ceiling, thinking about whether this was true or not.

"No," She finally said. "I guess not."

"I knew it. You're NOT a werewolf."

A tiny flame of hope was at once extinguished. For a few moments, he jumped on the idea that someone could finally understand what he was going through. Even someone his own age.

But now he saw Stella was clearly lying.

"It's true. I'm not a werewolf," She admitted. "But really…how could you or anyone ever really know?"

She turned his shoulder around to face a mirror in the room. Remus looked at himself. Despite being slightly pale and tired looking, he was the same skinny, sandy-haired boy. The potion had reduced the hair on his arm and his sleeves hid his scars. A boy and girl stared back at him from the reflection. They were two children surrounded by playing cards, basking in afternoon sunlight. Two ordinary children.

"We look the same on the outside." She said softly. "If I saw you on the streets, I would never know anything."

A small light turned on inside of him. He smiled at his reflection, because he saw that she was right.