( @expectoxpatr-ohno continued from x )
༺🌕༻ Remus had long since given up trying to keep the sheets clean; he was far too weak to stand, and laying on the floor was painful on the rent flesh covering his body. When the others told him they were bringing the young redhead girl up to their dorm he had protested firmly, threatening them with hexes and slugs in their beds, but they hadn’t listened — for once Remus’ health was more important than his unwavering insistence that his furry little problem stay between the four of them.
Marlene would find him half-clothed and sulking on his pillow, trying not to move for fear the pain would strike him like lightning again, but she seemed to pay little attention to his poor attitude, even going as far as to dismiss his fretting room mates before they incurred even more of his ire.
But he was compliant, if a bit quiet at first, unsure what to tell this girl he’d known long enough that secrets like this should probably have already been discussed. Should he tell her that her careful stitches wouldn’t much matter? That she would need silver with her dittany, or the wounds would fester and open again as if the beast inside him was tearing its way out? Had she already conjectured as much?
He watched her quietly, small signs of discomfort on his pallid face, lifting his arm when prompted for her to access his side and shifting so she could reach his back. The pain was subsiding for now, at least, thanks to her careful ministrations; whether it would hold was yet to be seen.
It wasn’t until her gentle fingers moved to other scars — older scars, not as deep, but still a bit pinker than they might have been had they been normal flesh wounds— that he turned his gaze to her face, the sullen pout on his lips fading to a hint of quiet resignation.
“No one’s supposed to know,” came his unrelated answer, the rasp of his voice so very different from his usual easy, collected tenor.
“Please don’t tell anyone.” ༺🌕༻
