~Albus~

True to his word, Welling did give Colette the two days before the full moon to decide. Not that there was any decision to be made, of course, as I was quick to remind her. She couldn't give in. I couldn't let her. So the only option was to let them infect me.

Colette didn't argue the point again, thankfully. I was adamant about it every time it came up, of course, but just the thought sent my stomach into knots. Actually, I felt like throwing up all the time, or maybe crying. I'd never had this much anxiety, and I wasn't sure if I was really hiding it at all. More likely, Colette had actually realized that there wasn't a choice to be made and was simply trying not to make the anxiety worse by reminding me of all the horrible ramifications of lycanthropy.

Listen, I am fully in support of including werewolves in society. I don't think they're any less human than other wizards, and shouldn't be treated like monsters. To be fair, I don't think I've ever met a werewolf, but I've heard so many stories of Remus Lupin that I know werewolves can be wonderful people. I know that with the wolfsbane potion, nearly all danger to other people can be avoided during the full moon. There's no reason to exclude werewolves from society, and anyone who thinks otherwise is prejudiced and small-minded.

But that doesn't change the fact that lycanthropy is a horrible condition to experience. I've heard the pain during transformations was akin to the cruciatus curse. Having experienced that curse far too many times already, I wasn't eager to have it happen every month for the rest of my life. If we ever got out of here, I knew my family and closest friends would still accept me, but the wizarding world at large might not. The wolfsbane potion was incredibly expensive and difficult to brew. What would happen if I couldn't afford it? What if I hurt someone?

I didn't air these concerns for Scorpius and Colette. What was the point? It wouldn't change anything. They spent a lot of time over the next two days trying to talk about anything else, but I couldn't bring myself to join in. I tried, to be fair, but I found myself just slipping into my thoughts. Trying to come to terms with what was about to happen. Resign myself to it. This was going to happen, and I was going to be fine. Everything was going to be all right.

The morning of, I woke up with anxiety so bad that I really thought I was going to throw up. I crouched in the corner, clutching the empty bucket they left for use between our once-daily trip to the bathroom down the hall. Luckily, Colette wasn't awake yet to see. As I took deep breath after deep breath, trying to talk myself off the mental ledge, the feeling gradually dissipated until I could let the bucket go and crawl back over to my cot, just as Colette stirred across the way.

A faint smile was all I could manage as she pushed herself up, yawning and blinking at me. "How'd you sleep?" I asked.

"Well enough." Her eyes narrowed and she tilted her head. "Did you sleep at all?"

"A bit, yeah..." All I could really remember was tossing and turning and flashes of swiftly departing nightmares, but I must have slept at least for a while to have had nightmares at all.

Colette wasn't studying me anymore, which was a bit of a relief. Her gaze had drifted to the floor of my cell, it looked like, though I didn't think she was looking at anything in particular. After a moment, she sighed. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

I chuckled darkly. "Of course it's not. Can't do anything about it, though."

It took her a few moments to nod. "Right. Given the alternative."

"There isn't an alternative," I said quickly. "Not an option. Don't even think about it."

"I'm not!" she protested, though I got the feeling she had been, even if it was just briefly. She met my eyes for only a second before pursing her lips and looking away again. "I just... I'm sorry, Al. I'm sorry I dragged you into this."

"You didn't do anything, Colette. How many times do I have to tell you?"

Her expression hardened. "You're here because of me. Denying it won't make it untrue."

"No." I sat up a little higher on my cot. "We're both here because Welling is a sadist and Stillens is the definition of evil. It's their fault, not yours."

"I know." Colette sighed. "I understand that, Albus. Really. That doesn't make me feel better about any of it, though."

I wanted to keep arguing, but I couldn't find anything else to say. These were the same things people had told me after my father died and Wren was captured, and they hadn't made me feel less responsible, either. I could sit here all day and argue why those situations were different, how that truly was my fault and this couldn't be the furthest from hers. But it wouldn't help. I knew it wouldn't. Maybe we were doomed to have the same conversations over and over again, and the best I could do was remind my friend that however she felt, I didn't blame her, and I wouldn't. Maybe I couldn't expect her to get over that, just like I hadn't ever gotten over my guilt about my dad.

"I understand," I said quietly. She glanced up, meeting my eyes again, and the corner of my mouth turned up just a bit. "I'm sorry."

Colette shot me a faint smile. "I think it's going to be a long day."

"I'm afraid you're right." I gulped. When I tried to smile again, I was pretty sure it was just a grimace.

"Is Scorpius awake yet?" Colette asked. "Maybe he'd reread that copy of the Prophet to keep us occupied."

Distracted might have been a better word, but I just nodded and got up, heading over to the corner where I could best see into Scorpius's cell. "Hey, Scorp, are you up?"

No response. I frowned, peering into the relative darkness of his cell. Was he still asleep? His blanket was lying across his cot as if he'd thrown it off when he stood up, but he certainly wasn't on it. I pressed myself against the wall of my cell, trying to see into the far corner of his as a horrible feeling started to gather in my stomach. "Scorpius?"

"Is he asleep?" Colette asked, a frown on her face as she stood up.

I shook my head, breaths suddenly coming quicker as panic overtook me. "He's not there at all."

Colette's eyes widened. "Not there? Are you sure?"

"His cell's empty." I pulled back, sinking down to the floor as I did. "He's gone."

For a moment, Colette stood there, seeming to process that. Slowly, she shook her head. "They probably just took him to the showers, Albus."

"I've been up for half an hour, at least. Taking anyone to the showers doesn't take that long."

"Maybe someone heard us talking with him, and they moved him to keep us isolated," she suggested. "Don't jump to the worst case scenario, Al."

It was too late for that. I was already blinking away tears. Moving him seemed like a lot of work for someone they'd thrown into a cell to rot away, forgotten by the world. "The last time someone disappeared from our block, she was killed."

"We don't know that."

"What else could have happened to her? And why would they waste time moving him when he's clearly just here to be out of the way?" I shook my head. "What if they wanted him even more out of the way?"

"Albus, look at me," Colette said, seriously enough that I obeyed, swallowing down a sob as I did. "We don't know what's going on. We can't spiral, all right? Imagine how Welling would use this, if we showed him it'd hurt us."

I took a shaky breath. "I... I know."

"I'm sure they'll bring him back soon," she said, in a soft voice that didn't sound entirely convinced. She shook her head, seeming to search for the words.

"It'll be all right," I said, my voice hollow.

"Exactly." Colette pursed her lips. "He's fine, I'm sure."

We didn't talk about Scorpius anymore, or about the looming full moon, which meant we spent most of the day in a brooding silence. If I cried quietly, Colette had the decency to pretend not to notice. I found myself glancing at Scorpius's cell every few minutes, desperately trying to think of a scenario where he was fine. Maybe Colette was right, and they'd just moved him because they'd caught us being too chummy. Maybe they'd moved him to the manor, to be with Ciara. It might have been part of some deal Nico struck with them, if he'd figured out where Scorpius was. Or maybe they let him go. Things might have calmed down about Ciara, or he might have been threatened to keep quiet and tossed out to the street to find his own way home.

Just... surely they wouldn't have a reason to just kill him out of the blue.

When they brought us our food (lumpy gray stuff in a bowl), Colette jerked her head toward his cell as casually as she could. "Where'd he go?"

"Who?" the guard asked. He shot a suspicious frown between us, and I found myself immensely grateful that he apparently wasn't one of the sadistic ones looking for a reason to hurt us. I didn't recognize him, which didn't say much; it seemed like they sent someone knew to bring us our meal every week.

Colette crossed her arms. "The boy who was next to me? He's gone."

"Why does it matter to you?" The guard shrugged. "I don't know where he went. Can't say I care."

"Is he dead?"

He shrugged again. "Maybe. I don't know. Why don't you ask the boss?" With that, he turned and walked out.

Colette made a fist, but didn't say anything until the door had slammed closed. Then she swore.

"I suppose that's the most we'll get out of anyone," I said softly.

"We're not asking anyone else. I don't want Welling to hear about it. I'd hate to give him more leverage." She didn't specify that that was provided Scorpius was still alive, but I'm sure we both thought it.

"There's nothing we can do, is there?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't think there is."

I nodded slowly, sitting down on my cot as I did. We hadn't even gotten to say goodbye. There'd been no warning. And we'd probably never actually know what happened to him, either. I doubted Welling was keeping records of everything that went on in here. More than likely, whatever it was would be swept under the rug and forgotten. No one would ever know. Even if Colette and I ever got out of here, all we'd be able to say was that we'd seen him, and then he'd been gone.

A loud clang startled me out of my thoughts. I jumped, looking up to see Colette still standing in the middle of her cell, eyes tightly closed and hands balled into fists at her sides. Her bowl was spinning in the far corner of the cell, the gray sludge splattered on the wall and the floor. It took me a second to realize she'd thrown it.

"Colette?"

She opened her eyes, and as she let go of the fists I realized her hands were shaking. "This... it's all so wrong."

I nodded slowly, unsure what to say to make this better. Before I could think of anything, she'd looked over at me. "I feel like I'm going mad, Al. Every day, a little bit more."

"You're not." I winced at how lame that sounded, but pressed on. "We're still together. And this is all terrible and unfair, but it'll be over one day, okay? The DA's going to win, and Welling's going to pay for all this. Just hold onto that."

She frowned at me for a moment, something like pity on her face. "Do you really believe that?"

I don't know. Maybe I did. Maybe I just really wanted it to be true, and clung to it because the only other thing I could do was spiral into madness. It wasn't like I let myself think about it that much, when it seemed so far off. But I shrugged. "It's better than going mad."

A thoughtful nod was my only response for a while. Colette seemed to turn that over, her gaze growing faraway. I looked down at my own bowl of gray sludge as she did. It never looked appealing, of course, but today the thought of trying to swallow it down was about to make me gag. I set the tray on the floor and pushed it away with my foot.

Colette sighed, and when I glanced up at her she was shaking her head. "I'm glad that helps you."

"You don't believe it?"

She shook her head, not meeting my eyes. "No. But I want you to. Maybe you can keep both of us sane."

I was tempted to ask her why, but I got the feeling she wouldn't explain. Of course, if I thought too hard about it all, I could understand where she was coming from. If the DA did win the war, there was a high chance they'd just kill all the prisoners here rather than let them be rescued. And I suppose it was already slim chances for the DA in the first place.

But I didn't want to think about that. I wanted to believe this nightmare would be over for us on this side of the grave. Maybe Colette was too logical to ignore the obvious holes, but no one's ever accused me of that. I could believe the impossible for both of us.

The rest of the day slipped away, seeming both impossibly slow and fast at the same time. I found my eyes drifting over to Scorpius's cell too often, and eventually had to sit with my back to it so I couldn't be reminded.

Just as the sky was beginning to grow darker, the door at the end of the hall flew open with a bang. I winced, suddenly feeling nauseous again. When I met Colette's eyes, they were full of sorrow. She mouthed I'm sorry just as the guards came into view.

They dragged me to my feet and dragged me out of my cell. Though I struggled to get my feet underneath me, for some reason they weren't working. In fact, my vision was narrowing, and my breath was coming very rapidly, and if that guard prodded me one more time there was a very good chance I was going to vomit all over his shoes. Colette shot me a worried glanced over her shoulder before they pushed her out the door.

The long march through sterile white hallways was as confusing as always. Perhaps more so, because my mind was racing. I thought I'd made my peace with lycanthropy, but as we drew closer to my fate I was finding that wasn't the case. It was like everything in me was screaming, trying to turn me around, push me in another direction. Unfortunately, I wasn't the one in charge. As humiliating as it sounds, the two guards at my side were practically carrying me at this point.

We didn't end up in the same room as always. Instead, the guards deposited us in a dark office of sorts. One wall was taken up by a large window, through which I assumed was an interrogation room. The lights were out, though, and the flickers of low electric light in here didn't seem to penetrate through the glass, so I really had no idea.

The room we were in was small. Half our guards had stayed out in the hall, it seemed. I stepped closer to Colette without thinking about it, and no one pulled us apart. I would have reached for her hand if I'd thought she wouldn't slap mine away. She might not want to look weak and afraid, but it was far past that for me already. But Colette was standing straight as a rod, glaring at someone who seemed to peering through the window into the darkened room. When he turned, I realized it was Welling.

"Ah, I'm glad you could join us," he said, eyeing us both with a cruel smile. "I suppose you've made up your mind?"

"I'm not doing anything for you," Colette snapped.

Welling chuckled, turning his eyes on me. "And I suppose you're all right with this arrangement?"

"Yes, I am," I said, wincing as my voice cracked. Colette shot me a tight-lipped smile, though, and I felt a little bit more courage flow into me, as if she'd passed some of hers along. "Do your worst."

"I intend to." Welling snapped his fingers, and one of the guards flipped a switch on the wall. The room through the window was suddenly illuminated, and my heart nearly stopped.

I'd expected a table and chairs, but there was nothing there. Nothing, that is, except a large, wolf-like creature rearing up on its hind legs. Its eyes were yellow, and far too human for the animal body. It let out a howl, and I shuddered.

"You remember Justina Bosko, I presume," Welling said, something close to glee in his voice. "Here's your last chance to change your mind."

Colette glanced at me, seeming torn, and it took everything in me to shake my head. "No."

Welling sneered. "If you insist."

Before I could say anything to Colette, a guard grabbed me by the shoulder and shoved me over to a door I hadn't noticed before, right next to the window. Justina Bosko was stalking the edges of the room now. I wondered briefly if they'd be able to stop her from killing me. Had they given her a wolfsbane potion? Maybe I would just die. Perhaps that would be better.

Then the door was open, and I was being shoved through.

It slammed behind me almost immediately, and when I nervously glanced over my shoulder, I was met only by my own reflection. The window wasn't a window at all, but a mirror. In it I could see Bosko stalking towards me, a low growl coming out of her mouth. I let out a squeak that was certainly not dignified, and slowly turned around to face her.

I'd never seen a wolf before, so I'm not sure what the comparison would be like. Bosko was nearly as big as me as a werewolf. Her fur was a dark gray, and her ears twitched with every noise. The thing I couldn't get past still were her eyes, though. They bore into me, through me, as she came closer. Her eyes almost seemed like they were lauging at me. Like she could smell my fear, and enjoyed it.

I backed up as far as I could, into the corner of the room, but it wasn't like I could get away. There was no doorknob on this side of the door, and no other entry or exit points that I could see. My heart was beating so quickly that I could feel it in my chest, and when I blinked I felt tears in my eyes. This was just a bad dream, surely. I'd wake up soon, and it'd all be over. It was going to be fine.

It's going to be all right.

With a snarl, Bosko lunged forward. I cringed back, but it didn't matter. Her teeth sank into my shoulder feeling like fire and ice at the same time, and I heard myself screaming. Dark spots began to dance across my vision, and I was only vaguely aware of what happened next.

Dimly, I heard people moving and talking around me, as if they were thousands of kilometers away. My shoulder was still burning, screaming in agony, and somehow it got worse as something cold was pressed against it. I was lying on the floor, writhing against the pain, being held down. Colette's worried face floated through my vision, but then she was gone, and the only thing left was pain, being pressed into my shoulder and snaking its way through the rest of my body.

I must have blacked out eventually, but I can't say it was much relief. I drifted in and out of consciousness, dreams filled with screams and fire and the full moon beating down on me. When I was awake, I was barely aware of my surroundings. I might have tried to tear at my shoulder, to make the pain stop, but something restrained me. Or maybe it didn't, and the red constantly dancing across my vision was blood. Maybe I was dead, and this was hell.

Finally, I opened my eyes and saw no colors dancing across my vision. Instead, there were the gray bricks of my cell ceiling, and the bright light of day through the skylight above my head. I blinked up at it for a moment, trying to piece together what had happened. Was any of that real? Had I dreamt it all?

When I tried turn, and felt my shoulder flare up at the motion, I realized at least of it had been real. I gingerly sat up, holding my right arm as still as possibly to avoid the spark of pain,

"Oh, thank Merlin, you're awake." I glanced across in time to see Colette sagging with relief against her cot. She was a wreck, honestly. Eyes red, hair wild. Her knuckles were scabbed over, and I found didn't want to know how that had happened. "How are you feeling?" she asked softly.

"All right," I said, then frowned. "Well... my shoulder hurts, I guess. But... otherwise... just a little off. I don't know how to explain it."

Colette nodded. "That's good. You've been feverish for five or six days now. They had to restrain you for a while. Thought you were going to tear yourself apart."

"Really?" I looked down at myself. They'd taken my shirt off, though there was another folded on the floor at the end of my cot. I could see new cuts, like someone had dragged their nails along my arm and my chest. Had I done that?

"It'll scar," she said. "I'm sorry."

I shrugged with my left shoulder, wincing as the motion carried over to my right. "Welling's already given me scars." I pointed to the burn marks on my arms, still visible from fifth year. "What're a few more?"

She laughed a little, though it sounded odd. When I looked back up, she was blinking quickly. "I'm sorry, Al, I—"

"Please stop apologizing." I pursed my lips, looking down and straining a little to see the large bite on my shoulder. "It's not going to change anything. It won't make me blame you, either."

Colette nodded, looking away as she did. A moment of hesitation, then, "I thought you were going to die."

"They wouldn't have let me die."

"Not from Bosko. After. I've never seen anyone so sick. I've never seen anyone in so much pain that they tried to rip themselves apart." She shook her head. "I'm really glad you're okay, is what I'm saying."

I looked back down at my shoulder. Okay wasn't really the word I would use. With a deep breath, I closed my eyes and nodded. "Yeah. Me too." It was over now, at least.

Or maybe it had just begun. 

~~~~

Question of the Day: Do you hate me?

Answer: This wasn't all my idea!! Just saying!

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~Elli

Word count: 3991