In the Melancholy Moonlight

Chapter CX: Something New

HARRY:

Every day that week leading up to the full moon, I learned something new.

On Monday, I learned that the fever starts early.

We waited until we got back to the common room to tell Hermione and Ron about what had happened. The common room was empty, a welcome sight. They, of course, wanted me to tell Dumbledore, but I adamantly refused. Once they realized they weren't going to convince me, the two headed up to bed, but rather than following Hermione, Lucy made her way over to the window seat in silence, having not spoken a word since we returned. I slid in next to her, the two of us a tighter fit than ever.

With only me around, it seemed to me she dropped her guard a bit. She pulled her hair free of its ponytail so it cascaded around her shoulders and rested her chin in her hand as she stared out at the stars. Her eyes were troubled, no doubt about it.

"What's on your mind?" I asked quietly after a moment.

She didn't look at me as she replied. "It's just... whether I fight or not, something bad happens. I fight Umbridge, I get detention. I don't fight Draco, I'm told I'm a liar and I still get detention. Mum fought, and she died. Dad didn't, and he died. Cedric didn't do anything wrong, nothing at all, and he... he... he still..." She sighed and shook her head, blinking back tears. "So, I guess what's on my mind is, well... what's the point of any of this? What's to stop me from just... I don't know..." This time, she couldn't blink quickly enough, and a tear slipped down her cheek. "I just want my brother back."

Her lower lip trembled, and I reached out, anticipating the sob. She buried her head against me, crying quietly but shaking violently.

"My hand really hurts," she managed after a while. "I have high pain tolerance, Harry, but this is... it hurts so much. It r-reminds me of first year, b-but this time, there's... there's no Cedric t-to..."

She pulled her still-bleeding hand out of the little ball she had created, and I got a good look at it for the first time. It was... a disaster.

I had half a mind to march her straight to Madam Pomfrey, pay Dumbledore a visit on the way, and not leave until her hand stopped bleeding and Umbridge was on her way to Azkaban. Did I deserve the scar on the back of my hand? Maybe. I hadn't lied, but... Lucy? Lucy, who had never hurt a soul? She didn't deserve it, not at all.

Rage surged in me.

This isn't fair.

Lucy deserves better.

"Do you want to go to the Hospital Wing?" I asked. "I'll go with you."

She didn't answer, instead burying her face against me. I could suddenly feel even through my robes how warm her forehead was. I panicked initially, then remembered.

Right. Werewolf. Full moon on Saturday.

But Merlin. It's only Monday.

I grazed her forehead with my fingers. It was warm, no doubt about it.

"This is nothing," she replied softly as if she had read my mind.

"It's not nothing," I insisted. "Lucy, it's only Monday and you're already-"

"Just give it a couple days," she muttered. "Just... give it a couple days. It gets worse."

She lifted her head to look at me. Something had changed in her expression. I couldn't place it, but it was there.

She jumped up from the window seat as if she'd been electrocuted.

Her voice was dull and her eyes even duller as she looked at me. "This is nothing new. I've been doing this for almost ten years now. I'm fine." She started to cross her arms, but something about the way she shifted her hand made her wince. She marched over to the couch and kicked it, pacing back and forth and kicking it again, clearly in pain. She made a strangled sound of frustration and clutched her hand, bouncing on her toes a couple of times. "The monster always fights its way out in the end. There's nothing anyone can do to stop it. Bloody hell, my hand hurts-" She kicked the couch a third time, and I jumped up before she could kick the couch a fourth time.