Revenge

By Dimgwrthien

Disclaimer: I do not own any Harry Potter characters or the series. Don't look at me. I'm not stealing, merely borrowing for an amount of time.

After Bill had been bitten, there had been a general worry.

No one knew what would be happening to him. They figured out the changes in his personality, which brought up awkward questions that Remus, the true werewolf, had to answer.

Bill had been chewing on a bit of meat from his stew and frowned.

"Mum, you cook wonderfully, but isn't this a bit… overcooked?" The long-haired man regretted saying this, and reflected upon the fact that it was the first time he ever criticized her cooking skills. Remus, who had been sitting across from him, having accepted Molly's begging that he came for dinner, frowned.

The group of Weasleys turned to Remus in unison as they learned to do once they started seeing the slightest change in Bill.

"Werewolves tend to prefer… rawer meat," he answered to his plate rather than them. He was still not comfortable with the awkward questions.

"It's cooked like it always is," Molly said, also frowning. "Will that be a factor carrying over?"

Remus nodded. "I think so. He'll be like that. I wasn't sure whether taste would change." He gave Bill a curious look.

Bill used the side of his bowl to get the remainder of the meat off and instead scoop up some of the thick gravy.

"Do you think it's overcooked?" Molly asked, turning to Remus.

Feeling his face burn a bright red, Remus muttered, "I've managed to get over that when I was young."

The conversations from Bill's new style forced Remus to let on more than he wished about his condition. He dreaded the full moon because of what questions could come out of that. He was getting used to keeping away from everyone for a few days surrounding the full moon, only appearing to them when he was well.

"What's going to happen to him?" Arthur had cornered Remus in the late afternoon several days after the meat conversation. "Any idea?"

Remus almost laughed at Arthur's low voice. Every time he brought up Bill's changes, Molly would either cry or start fretting.

"I doubt he'll transform," Remus answered, leaning on the back of a chair. "However, I think it would be best to keep him away from everyone for a while to make sure."

"Where will you be?" Arthur asked Remus.

"At my house," Remus answered. His hands started shaking slightly. He had an unpleasant feeling down his arms and spine, tingling all of his nerves at once. "Bill may be able to even use a furnished room and nothing bad should happen."

Arthur's brow furrowed and his rubbed a hand in his hair, which was thinning faster than usual now as Remus knew his hair was graying faster. The war was taking tolls on everyone, big ways and small. He had not been able to speak to Tonks for several days already with both of them doing so many different things for the broken Order.

"I'm so lost," Arthur told him, still with his brow furrowed. "I mean - no offence meant to you - but I've never really… understood werewolves. I have no clue what to do with him."

Remus swallowed. He wanted to leave already, start transforming as he knew would start soon.

Arthur looked Remus in the eye, studying him for a moment.

"Remus, I know it may be asking too much of you, but could you just stay the night, make sure nothing happens?"

Almost snorting with laughter, Remus answered, "If I did, I think I would make it worse. Besides, I won't be conscious most of the night or able to talk."

"In the morning, though," Arthur pleaded, throwing a glance over his shoulder and keeping silent until Molly passed the door and entered another room. "It'll help, in case he does transform. I have no clue what to do with him then."

Remus glanced at the doorway, making sure Molly was in the other room and busy. "No, Arthur," he said firmly. "If he does transform, you can contact me and I'll be here as soon as I can, but I'll only be a problem if I stay."

"You won't," Arthur said firmly. He took on a voice that sounded rather like his wife's, though with a touch of laughter in it. "'You're going to need plenty of taking care of afterwards. You obviously haven't been taking care of yourself and this takes a toll on your body, you know.'"

Remus smiled slightly. "Very good voice," he said jokingly. When Arthur gave him another pleading look, Remus sighed. "I'd feel much better by myself tonight -"

"I know," Arthur told him, sitting down and motioning for Remus to do the same. Remus remained standing, feeling his muscles start to pull. "But Molly and I would feel much better if you were here for Bill."

Remus was tempted to tell him no, but the look in Arthur's eyes of panic and confusion turned him. "Alright," he said, frowning. "However, first thing in the morning, I'm leaving."

Arthur stood and thanked him. "Where would you have to be to transform?" he asked.

"A cellar is best," Remus muttered, his throat already closing in on itself, ready for the transformation. "However, there isn't one here. A transfigured cell would not last long." Remus ran a hand through his hair, thinking. "This isn't going to work. I suppose our best try is to try going to my house and use that there."

Arthur nodded, and then stopped suddenly. "Could we get ourselves and Bill past Molly?" he asked.

"I'll explain everything to her," Remus said smoothly. "You get Bill. There's not much more time."

He proceeded to talk to Molly, explaining the situation. Her eyes grew wider and wider with each word and he finally agreed, looking close to tears. She gave Bill a large kiss on the cheek and a hug as he was brought downstairs, yawning. Molly gave Remus a hug and kissed her husband, waving them out, looking somber.

They Apparated to Remus' house, and on the landing, Remus felt himself loose balance, cursing the late timing. Remus dismissed Arthur, saying that he could come back in the morning for Bill and that until then, it would be pointless to sit around.

"What's going to happen?" Bill asked curiously. He did not seem to worry as his parents did about everything. He acted rather bored with the situation, though curious.

"You won't transform, I believe," Remus answered. "However, it's better to be safe rather than find yourself transforming without expecting it. I never knew Greyback would bite when not transformed." He frowned.

"If I do transform, what should I do now?" Bill asked, glancing around Remus' house. His eyes rested on a door to the side that Remus had started walking towards.

"I usually try to tire myself out," Remus answered, moving his shoulders to loosen them. "I doubt there's time left, but doing so tends to make me sleep more when transformed. It works without Wolfsbane." A brief shadow crossed his face as he remembered Severus.

Bill started moving around, walking around the room a few times, making exaggerated movements. He grinned at Remus, moving the scars around his face. Remus smiled back and started moving his feet, though staying in place.

"Good," he said, nearing laughter when Bill stopped. "I still doubt you'll have the same problems, but -"

"In case I do," Bill told him knowingly. He seemed not to take being a werewolf (or whatever portion of one) as a curse, but rather a new source of his jokes. "What do you do next?"

"Usually after that I do nothing. I prefer not eating around the full moon. It only makes transforming more painful." He smiled without any humor. "It's finding a perfect balance between everything that took me the longest. Eat this much, drink this much, and then the transformation should not be any more painful than needed and you won't end up eating someone else." He ended with a rather serious look, staring at his hands.

"I think it's time," said Bill. "I feel weird."

"That usually happens. We have about five minutes, so we ought to start. Even if you don't transform, the moon will still have some pull on you. It's like how humans" - Bill glared at him sharply for the unsaid mention of not considering himself human - "feel different with the full moon because of the pull of the water in their bodies. It's just stronger for me. You're caught between the two."

Remus walked up to the door and put a hand on the knob. "You're fine out here. Nothing should happen." He turned the knob and opened the door. "Have a good night, Bill."

"Be safe," he told Remus, who nodded and walked into the dim room.

Bill wondered around the room for a moment, He took a seat on the chair, feeling something tugging inside his chest for a while. He felt uncomfortable no matter what he did. When he could not handle it, he walked up to the door Remus went through.

"You alright?" he asked loudly through the door.

"I'm fine," came Remus' calm voice. "Are you feeling alright?"

"No," Bill answered, frowning. "I still feel weird."

"It's expected," Remus told him from inside the door. "I felt odd during my first full moon. I don't remember, except my parents mentioned how I acted during that full moon for years."

"What happened to them?" Bill asked, trying to keep up a conversation to ignore the feeling inside of him.

"Died," Remus answered, voice flat and dull. "They died when I turned thirty."

Bill frowned. "I'm sorry." He felt worse than before for bringing it up and tried to change the subject. When he opened his mouth, however, Remus finally answered him.

"Don't be. It's not your fault." He heard a heavy sigh from inside.

"But most wizards don't die that young, unless -"

"Voldemort was gone by then. Greyback got to my father, got him rather badly. No bites, luckily. Instead, he just tore him up rather badly. A bit worse than you, really. Or myself." There was silence for a moment, and then Remus' forced voice came, "I'm sorry, Bill - I can't keep this up longer -"

He fell silent once more, and Bill listened closely. He heard indistinguishable sounds from inside, and soon the sound of paws padding along the ground, claws hitting the floor loudly, clicking.

Bill fell back onto a chair. He did not transform. It was a relief, but he still felt an odd feeling inside of him. His brain was going slightly more fuzzy than usual and he could not focus this thoughts for long except for on the wolf inside the room. He felt the urge to go off and get the wolf, fight it, bite it, bite himself. Telling himself that it was a stupid idea, Bill relaxed in the old chair, forcing his head to empty.

He spent the night there, trying to stop his shaking hands and ignore the sounds of the wolf near him. It was Remus, he reminded himself. Why would he need to attack Remus?

Morning came and Bill felt the feeling wash over him, leaving him as he had been the day before. He sighed happily, glad that he could think straight again, then stood up, walking to the brown door where Remus was behind.

"Good morning, Remus," he said softly through the door. "Are you feeling alright?" In truth, he had never seen Remus after the full moon and had to clue what he would be like. The closest to the full moon he had ever seen him was about three days after, where Remus looked gaunt and tired still.

"Bill?" came the faint reply. There was the sound of scuffling and material moving. "Could you grab me another set of trousers and a shirt from my room?" came Remus' voice, sounding vaguely embarrassed. Bill stalked off, glancing through the wardrobe, picking out the first set of clothes he saw. There were not many there, and many were torn and roughly patched. The set he had in his hands looked rather fine. He opened the door and slipped the clothes in, hearing Remus' faint words of thanks. He closed the door once more, hovering near it until Remus came out.

He looked exhausted, his hair is a mess. Remus' chest was heaving slightly with the effort of standing up straight and his grip on the walls turned his knuckles white. Bill grabbed his arm, which Remus leaned on slightly, seemingly trying to maintain his dignity enough to walk mainly by himself, though he soon collapsed onto a chair, looking as though he had been to hell and back.

Bill sat opposite him, frowning.

"You look fine," Remus said, smiling.

Bill nodded and retorted, "You don't. Are you alright?"

"Same as usual," Remus answered, taking in a measured breath as though trying not to breath much at a time and letting it out slightly. "I just need a few hours to get back to normal."

Tempted to point out that he needed a few days to rest, Bill restrained himself. Instead, he told Remus, "I'm lucky not have been bitten at the full moon. Looks dreadful."

He had only just noticed the new red stain showing on his white sleeve. Remus followed his gaze and frowned. He reached onto the table next to him, taking the wand he had left there the night before, tapping his arm. The blood cleared off of his sleeve and a bandage appeared around the wound under his shirt.

"It's painful," he admitted quietly. "However, you still got it bad. Anything relating to werewolves seems to be bad."

Bill's fingers started to trace the scars on his face without meaning to. He stopped.

"How bad did he get you?" Bill asked, his voice coated in concern.

Remus' gaunt face turned upwards to him carried a blank expression. Bill almost told him to ignore the question, but found that Remus was using his injured arm to pull the sleeve on his uninjured arm up to his shoulder.

Bill's eyes widened and he tried not to gasp. Old scars covered his arm, overlapping a large bite mark that took up most of his mid-arm. Remus' expression was serious as he pulled the sleeve down again.

"That was just from Greyback?" Bill asked in shock. The scars on his face seemed to be mere scratches compared to them.

"Not all of them. Most of them, including the bite," Remus said, voice in a deadened monotone. He sat back in his chair, looking somewhat flushed and feverish. "It's the long-term investment injuries he seems to like."

Bill remembered when he looked through the wardrobe that there had been no short sleeved shirts and now he knew why.

"He really enjoys doing that, doesn't he?" Bill asked in disgust. It had been dreadful enough to feel Fenrir's hands rip across his face, teeth sinking into his cheek, trying to actually eat him. Now, seeing the scars lining Remus, both self-inflicted and from an attack, made it worse.

"When I was working with the werewolves, he was the same," Remus said quietly, still not meeting Bill's eyes. "He did the same thing to all of us. Attacking us even without the moon there. I felt so much pity for the younger werewolves; they still had no idea how dreadful it was to transform and be attacked. Some were afraid, thinking Fenrir was the model of a werewolf." Remus smiled. "In a way, he is."

It was then and there that Bill wanted revenge for not only the physical torture done, but what had happened to Remus' self esteem.