CHAPTER FOURTEEN
into the woods

𖦹 ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ˚⋆˚ 𖦹

COVE CAN'T EXACTLY USE THE WORD 'recovery' to describe how the past few days have gone for her.

Although, in saying that, she hasn't gotten any worse. No, not at all! She just hasn't gotten much better, either.

The sudden shift in her demeanour is palpable from the way her smiley disposition has totally dimmed to the frequent bouts of silence she finds herself indulging in, any coherent words lost to the labyrinthine horrors of her own mind. Once again Cove finds herself yearning for the water to swallow her whole when upon two legs, and for the kiss of land to soothe her drowning emotions when she gives in to the seal spirit at last.

  Nothing seems to feel right any more — she hasn't felt this lost since before... well, before Remus. All the conflicting feelings bubbling up inside are enough to give her goosebumps.

   Deflecting is the only way Cove knows how to handle what she's feeling. Her friends and even her professors have been worrying after her, only to be dismissed whenever they dare to ask how she's been holding up. Every portrait and every ghost has coined on to her stress by now, the foundations of the school shuddering under the way she seems to drag her feet along these days. There's clearly something eating Cove Henderson, yet only a few can say they truly know what it is.

   Remus has been especially worried — though admittedly, Cove hadn't expected anything less from him. It wouldn't have been as much as a problem as it is if he wasn't fretting over her with enough intensity to grey his hair, and with the full moon so close on the horizon, she's been pleading with him to leave it alone for a bit. For his sake more than hers.

  Unfortunately, whether he listens or not isn't up to her. Cove digresses.

   All that life seems to have quietened down inside her now that she's got her ultimatum to think over for however long it deigns to haunt her — Pomfrey said that she can last a few more years without choosing before it becomes completely life or death. The grains of sand in her hourglass have begun sprinkling down slowly and steadily, the clock ticking forward with every indecisive breath she takes.

Honestly, Cove thinks that she's willing to sacrifice her sanity for a few more sweet years of being free to just choose between them whenever. Decisions typically weigh down on her until she's quaking beneath the pressure, though this one seems to be beating down on her more furiously than ever.

   She's just so tired these days. It feels like first period was centuries ago, which only makes her more desperate for the cushioned embrace of her bed. Cove checks her watch to see that it's approaching five o'clock, her face set in a deep frown. How have all those hours managed to escape her and yet it feels like she's not moved forward one centimetre? She feels glued in place, frozen in time as a fragment of the girl she was before.

   Her feet are dragging her out of supported study after school, her thoughts clogged with sweet dreams of collapsing under the covers until the chirping of an alarm clock jolts her from sleep at the breaking dawn. Suffering through an extra hour of revision isn't her preferred way to end an agonisingly long day, especially with Remus absent and ill in the Hospital Wing. She was alone, tired and worried all through that excruciating hour of studying — one she had regrettably brought upon herself.

Hopefully Fallon and Mary will be around to listen to a rant when she gets back in. That usually has a strange way of calming her down and shepherding all her thoughts into neat, coherent groups. Oh, how she misses her friends.

   Cove's getting tangled up in another daydream about sleeping for hours and hours when something is heckled at her down the corridor. It takes a minute for the words to sink in but when they do, they make her lips twist in distaste and the voice it's uttered by causes her expression to become sneer entirely.

   "Oi, Henderson!"

   Sirius Black.

   She grimaces. Her father's name tacked onto her identity, weaponised against her by a boy she's been fuming at for the whole holiday. It looks as though her bed is going to have to wait for the time being.

   He's caught up to her by now, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew unsurprisingly glued to his side. His breathing is slightly rapid from the way he's just jogged down the hall to reach her, his curls mussed and askew from who knows what. Cove wouldn't have given him the light of day if it weren't for the urgency that exudes from his stormy eyes and his tone, his confident facade cracking under the pressure of something more. His friends are in a similar state to him, practically doubled over as they try to regain their breath after scaling all the winding staircases in pursuit of her.

  She raises her eyebrows. James reaches to thwack him upside the head and Sirius shrinks back into the wall, wringing his hands in a display of blatant anxiety she's never seen from him before in her life.

  "Sorry. Um... I didn't mean to put it like that." He tries again, clearing his throat and correcting himself. "Excuse me, Cove."

   "Better," she grants as a response. "What do you want?"

  "It's to do with Remus."

  Cove rolls her eyes. "I'm not in the mood for another lecture on how—"

  "Not that!" James cuts in. "Sorry, but we're not here to try and ruin your relationship. You make a sweet couple, really— er, sorry again. Not the point." His eyes dart around. "It's to do with his... furry little problem."

  That gets her attention. She immediately shakes off all her pride and her exhaustion and turns to face them properly, her sour expression dropping into one of immediate concern. Her heart is fizzing with distress and she quickly urges him to keep waffling on.

"What happened?" she demands.

The three Gryffindors shift awkwardly, eyeing each other before James pipes up with an explanation — or, at least, the long winded version of one.

  "Well, I take it he's told you about our, um, monthly routine?"

  She realises he's talking about the whole animagus thing. Remus briefly disclosed it to her at some point over the holidays, though those memories pass her by in a blur. Whatever's happening right now is more important. Cove dips her head into a nod.

  James glares at Sirius out of the corner of his eye. "Well, thanks to an unfortunate incident in the dormitory that involved lots of shouting, the stubborn git is refusing our help and has decided to go it alone tonight."

  Cove can't stifle her little gasp. "What? Is he mental?"

  James nods impatiently. "Yes, yes. Death wish and all. Thank you very much, Padfoot. Anyway, the details of their little row aren't important right now." His eyes grow pleading. "We know that he'll listen to you, Cove, if he's refusing to listen to any of us. Will you please just humour us and convince him that he needs our help? Before the sun goes down, preferably."

  "He'll hurt someone," Peter squeaks. "Or himself."

She opens and closes her mouth like a goldfish. Her voice takes on a defensive tone. "You don't know that."

"No?" Sirius' eyes grow tired. "What makes you think that he'll stay inside the shack after learning what freedom feels like?"

  That makes her go quiet. Cove whips her head to the window, her gut impaled with horrific dread at the sinking sun. The days have hardly gotten longer in the wake of New Year and it's practically nighttime already, meaning that their chance for Remus to see sense is almost up. Her heart leaps into her throat

"Will you help?" James cautions.

  "Of course I will!" she practically shrieks, shouldering past them and rapidly descending the staircase with the Hospital Wing in mind. The boys scramble after her. "What took yous so long to ask? He'll be gone soon!"

  "It's a big school," Sirius defends.

  "Use your bloody map to find me, then."

  "Well, Moony had it last!"

  Boys and their tiny pea brains. She's so furious, she could scream. However, Cove decides that they're not worth all that and focuses on hurrying down the hall as quickly as her legs will carry her whilst the light outside dims at an alarming rate.

Curse the sun for setting at five o'clock in January and curse Remus for being too stubborn to ask for help when he needs it. Curse Sirius for bringing their falling out to fruition and curse herself for not being able to run quickly enough. Argh, curse everything!

  They thunder down the moving stairs and round the corner until the doors to the Hospital Wing greet them. Her heart sinks to see that it's gaping wide open, the infirmary barren. A bed on the far end of the room is unmade, obviously having been recently abandoned. The veil of darkness has begun to spiral down outside the tall windows and stars are wriggling through the twilight to wink down at them patronisingly. Cove thinks that she'd feel a lot better right now if she could just punch Sirius in his perfect bloody nose.

  They all gather outside the double doors. She swivels on her heel to come face to face with the pureblood in question, lip curled into a scowl that feels unnatural on her face. Her eyes slim in accusation.

  "You waited too long to ask me," Cove stresses, hands tangling in her hair. "It's too late."

  "Don't say that," James soothes. "We'll figure something out. We always do."

  Footsteps ring out down the hall and a soft hand on her arm guides her to press back against the wall, the four of them forming a uniform line to stay out of sight. She holds her breath and her sensitive hearing picks up on the clicking of dragon-hide flats against the stone tiles, that staccato walking speed leading her to the realisation that it's only Madam Pomfrey hurrying back inside after escorting Remus down for the night. The mediwitch in question clicks on past in a maelstrom of unkempt curls and deepening worry lines, too caught up in her train of thought as the broad double doors to the infirmary draw closer.

  They watch as Madam Pomfrey shuffles into her office in the Hospital Wing, ignorant to the teenagers with their backs glued to the wall outside. They all breathe a collective sigh of relief.

   The gravity of their situation saturates back into reality. Now, the risen moon taunts them from its position amongst the constellations in the night sky, unearthed behind a scroll of thinly spread clouds. As the pearly light casts down over the school grounds and Cove's night vision adjusts to the blackness outside, she has to bear witness to the hunched figure on all fours as it scurries from the Shrieking Shack at the first opportunity, scaling the rolling hills and tearing through the bracken until it disappears into the undergrowth of the Forbidden Forest.

   They were too late after all. Hitting Sirius is starting to sound more and more appealing as the hands on her watch tick forward.

   She screws her eyes shut. No, she wouldn't hit him. That wouldn't solve anything and as much as Cove hates to admit it, Sirius is right — once the wolf has had a taste of freedom, it'll never be satiated. That was their first mistake with taking him out into the wilderness, away from the suffocation of his rundown prison. How do you convince a wild animal of captivity after it's experienced the open plains? Her stomach twists with anxiety at the thought.

  Cove's stare hardens. "I'm going after him."

  They all whip around to stare at her incredulously.

  "What?" Peter cries. "You can't do that!"

  "I can and I will. I'm not going to let my boyfriend get himself spotted by some rando, nor am I going to let him hurt anyone. That'll haunt him forever."

   "Cove, come on. What's your plan here?" James asks. "He doesn't remember that you're you. He'll kill you if he sees you."

  "I don't know," she admits reluctantly. "Keep an eye on him? I'm not completely human, there's no way of telling whether he'll react the same as if it were anyone else at this school."

  "There's also no way to confirm that he won't eviscerate you the first chance he gets," Sirius whisper shouts.

  "Oh, big words for such a tiny brain," she mutters. A stab of guilt goes through her for the insult but she's not in her right mind just now. She's never felt so nervous in her life. "I'm going to make sure he's safe and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

  "Then we're coming too."

  Peter's eyes widen. "We are?"

  Cove glares. "No."

"But he needs our help—"

"He's angry at you," she reminds them. "Human or otherwise. There's no saying what he'll do if you start bothering him."

"He's not himself, no matter who goes!"

Cove rolls her eyes and begins to stalk
down the hall toward the courtyard, her footfalls loud against the floor. She's done wasting her breath on them. The more they stand around arguing, the closer Remus delves into danger.

Someone grabs onto her bicep and she jumps, floundering away with warning illustrated in her eyes. Her lip curls into a low growl, the sharp points of her teeth glistening in the evening dimness. The sea glass on her necklace begins to thrum with energy.

   Luckily, Sirius seems to take the hint. He splays his hands on either side of his head in surrender and takes a wary step back, blinking imploringly so that she wouldn't dislocate his jaw on the spot. He sucks in a deep breath.

   "Look, I know we've had our differences in the past and I've done some shite things to you that I'll apologise properly for when we have time," Sirius says, "but Remus would never be able to live with himself if something were to happen to you. You said it yourself, it'll haunt him. We know how to deal with him on a full moon so let us handle this for now, Henderson."

  That name again. It's the last thing she wants to hear coming from his mouth on a night as perilous as this.

"He won't be happy to see you, either, and you asked for my help— Triton, nevermind." She rolls her eyes. "You're not worth it. Arguing back and forth about this like fuckin' weans in a playground isn't getting us anywhere. So you can stay right here," Cove snaps. "I don't trust you enough to bring you along." She turns to James, eyes softening slightly. "Please make sure he doesn't follow me. I'll be fine by myself."

"I— wh— This isn't what we had in mind when we asked for your help!" James calls after her. He turns to his friends, voice dropping to a low whisper. "C'mon, then. We're going after her."

   Cove stops to glare over her shoulder, eyes flashing. She points an accusatory finger between James and Sirius. "If yous two even think about following me, I'll drag you to the bottom of the Black Lake and let the merfolk deal with you."

   James blinks. "Right. Got it."

Sirius can only rub his face in disbelief. "Godric, you're just as mental as Remus. You really were made for each other. You can't just go alone—"

But Cove has already taken off down the hill, cloaked by the falling darkness and the bad moon rising above.

°•.•°•.•°•.•°

THE FORBIDDEN FOREST IS SCARIER than Cove had anticipated.

   An owl croons somewhere in the distance, a sound so familiar yet so foreboding. Unseen beasties and critters scuttle about in the erratic undergrowth, the sound of their spindly little legs drumming against Cove's sharp hearing with all the gentleness of a stampeding elephant. The wind carries every whisper that shifts upon the frigid air, her hair standing on end at the wails and snarls that carry between the low branches around her. She's been raised on horror stories of this place since First Year, conditioned to believe that going anywhere near it is a death wish. She's beginning to see the truth behind that now.

   She doesn't know how long she's been out in the wilderness exactly, but it's definitely been a good few hours. Cove has already had to side step a handful of different faery rings with her grandfather's warnings of the Fae folk present in her mind. His stories of young selkies eternally bound to captivity in the Otherworld, the tales of changelings in place of muggle children who had vanished overnight without a trace — the Fae are as vicious as they are revered and her grandparents endeavoured to ensure that she never forgot that. As the night jostles around her, those same horrors that made her jump as a child are creeping back up on her with an iron claw to fuel to her fears.

It doesn't help that every beast and cruel spirit her family has ever warned her of seem to inhabit the rustling forest around her — she can hear the spectral barking of a Cù Sìth somewhere in the distance, the tittering of hidden pixies in a nearby birch grove and even the anguished weeping of a Caoineag deep in the woods. She recoils into the collar of her school jumper and begins to hasten her walk, relying on her heightened senses to follow the trail of her... er, doggish boyfriend.

   Cold air wriggles into her lungs and she can see the opaque shimmer of her own breath as it collects in the chilly atmosphere. The fallen winter leaves form a graveyard across the frosty forest floor, the soil compacted tight and frozen solid beneath her heels. Her ears twitch at the faraway pitter patter of little paws amidst the brambles, too small and featherlight to belong to the werewolf she's trying her best to hunt. Her face scrunches in an unbalanced mix of confusion and sickening fear.

  A branch thwacks against her shoulder and she jumps across the path as a jerk reaction, pine needles weaving into her dishevelled curls as she gets tangled up in the low hanging canopy. The pattering noises are only getting closer as she strains her ears to pick them out against the hustle and bustle of the forest. The sound has drawn close enough now that she can tell the source must be no more than a few centimetres away, her head whipping around to try and pinpoint it. Yet, she can't see anything in the clearing other than herself.

Triton, she hasn't been this scared since she went to watch See No Evil at the pictures when she was far too young. Cove thinks that this late night excursion is coming close to beating that godforsaken horror movie on her long, long list of terrifying experiences that'll last a lifetime. Maybe not the orca run-in she'd survived with Cordelia, though — now that was scary...

A branch fractures nearby. Cove turns to peer over her shoulder, squinting through the darkness.

   She has to suck in a scream at the feeling of something tugging on the hem of her trouser leg. Her hand instinctively comes to rest over her pounding heart, her head jerkily snapping earthward. Only, when she glances down, her brain pushes her fear aside to replace it with sheer confusion at the sight she's met with.

   A rat with fur the colour of blackthorn wood has scuttled over to rest at the toe of her boot, squeaking madly and pawing at the leather with his little pink paw. He begins to spin in rapid circles around her ankles, weaving between them in an erratic figure of eight. She crouches down to be on his level and crooks an eyebrow at his incessant squeaking.

   Cove bundles the rat up in her cupped palms and narrows her eyes down at him in accusation. He noses at her fingertips until she sets him back down on the frozen mud, his little rodent body warping to form one in the image of... Peter Pettigrew.

He brushes dirt from his jeans and runs a shaky hand through his hair. He offers a tightlipped smile, wiggling his fingertips in an awkward wave of sorts.

   "Peter?" she hisses in surprise. "I told you not to follow me."

   "No, you told Sirius and James not to follow you," he counters smartly. "I'm not going to stand by and watch as you get yourself killed—" His voice wavers slightly at the cracking of a twig in the distance and he grabs onto Cove's arm frantically, squeaking in fear.

   After a minute, he clears his throat and straightens his posture, though his palm still clings onto her for comfort. She offers a sympathetic smile in understanding.

  "Ready?"

  "No."

  "Me neither."

   Cove begins to lead them deeper into the woods, slipping her hand up to squeeze his in the hopes it'll quell his nerves. Cove would be lying if she said that she wasn't equally as scared shitless — the Forbidden Forest is forbidden for a reason.

  "We should go back," Peter whispers.

  "No," Cove hisses. "I won't leave him out here all by himself."

   "He'd want you to stay inside," he argues. "It'd be better for everyone involved if we did exactly that. C'mon, Cove, what's the big idea here?"

  She waves a dismissive hand. "I can run quickly. Remus doesn't scare me, full moon or otherwise."

  "You're not listening—"

  Cove pinches the flesh of his palm to silence him and ignores the yelp he utters, her other finger rising to hover over her lips. She nudges him gently in the ribs and nods her head down the winding path that fades to black before them. Her nose twitches at a shift in the air, her ears straining to hear over the ruckus of the forest. Peter looks at her like she's grown an extra head.

   "D'you hear that?"

   He gulps. "Hear what?"

   Cove's eyes harden, flitting around to detect any obvious movements in their surroundings. "If you can't hear it, can you at least feel it?"

  He blanches even paler in the moonlight. "Cove, just tell me—"

  "Peter. I need you not to overreact."

  He nods hesitantly but she silences him with a firm palm over his mouth just in case. She keeps looking around, her movements slow and deliberate, a severe frown knotting on her face. When she turns back to address him, her eyes are rounder than the moon overhead, gleaming green irises full of warning. Her voice is so low and her words so rushed that the curt sentence barely even classifies as a breath.

   "We're being watched."

   Peter freezes up. His eyebrows draw together and he gives her an incredulous look, a pit sinking in his gut at the way her line of sight keeps darting over his shoulder. "Oh, don't tell me."

   She doesn't move a muscle. "Uh huh."

   "Fabulous."

  Peter hazards a glance over his shoulder, his courage wavering at the sight of a figure so familiar yet so daunting. He'd grown accustomed to Remus in his wolf form over the years, though he can't help the fear that prickles his skin at the current situation he's found himself tangled up in.

  This time, the sight of Remus feels different. A crazed look glints within his amber eyes as he creeps through the thorns and bracken, stark against the pitch black shadows of the night. Hot breath collects in the frigid air, snout curling to reveal rows of jagged teeth that could tear out your throat before you even had the chance to blink. The knobs of his spine protrude from his back as he hunches to snuffle at the ground, the tufty fur that warms him reminiscent of his human hair yet so coarse and cruel upon his freshly scarred hide.

  The pair look upon a distorted figure that's almost comic of the boy they know and love, the grotesque image of a man disfigured into the form of a beast. Where Peter stands unblinking before the pale lycan, Cove's eyes screw shut, taking a deep breath to steel herself.

He hasn't noticed them yet, though Cove suspects he's getting close. His ears are pressed flat against his head as he leans low to the ground, the bones in his hind legs crackling with every movement as if they haven't quite adjusted yet. She studies his hunched figure as it skulks in the distance and with a sinking feeling, Cove can't help but notice that familiar pattern of an animal hunting.

  Her hand tightens in Peter's. He's frozen in place, trembling at the sight of his friend in a state he should be accustomed to by now. Something about it feels different when he's not a rodent nestled in a throne of antlers, when he's being hunted as foe and not friend. Peter isn't an idiot — from the way he's trailing after them, it seems that the unrest between Remus and the other marauders translates to his wolf form, as well. He wouldn't even be safe in his animagus form. It seems that Cove was right after all.

  "Peter," she whispers. "Peter."

  He snaps out of his stupor. "Yes. Hiya."

  "When I tell you to transform, I need you to do it fast. Get in my pocket or something, aye?"

  "Sound," Peter murmurs, his voice tremoring.

  He takes a step back into the bushes, only for his heel to stag on a tree stump and snap off one of the rotting branches. He slips slightly on the moss and when he regains his balance, Peter sees that the wolf's head has snapped in their direction. Eyes narrowed to glowing slits, his scarred body tensed up and contorted.

  "Now."

  In a blur of fur and squeaking, Peter disappears from her side. She feels something wriggle into the pocket of her jumper and doesn't waste any time in legging it down the path.

  Cove immediately decides that this whole plan was a terrible idea — but, hey, if he's chasing her all night, he won't have the chance to chase after anyone else. That was what she had in mind, anyway, so it looks like her ideas are sort of working out for once. Well, she supposes that she doesn't mind taking one for the team just this once. Never again, though.

  She skids to a halt as the path suddenly drops off, overlooking a steep drop that's laden with cobwebs and she can hear the vile scuttling of spider legs from where she's stood. That path wouldn't be preferable, but with the way things are going, it looks as though she won't have the privilege of choice. Her breathing falters as she looks back over her shoulder to be met with the sight of her boyfriend zigzagging between the trees.

  The wolf stalks towards her, palms splayed against the forest floor as he inches closer and closer. He's coiled up like a serpent preparing to strike, awaiting her next move and anticipating the first flicker of vulnerability that'll allow him to pounce. Her hand grips her wand in a death grip, though she falters when faced with actually casting a spell. She doesn't want to cause him any harm.

  Instead, she hazards a glance over her shoulder. There's a drop of a few meters behind her, a manageable plummet that she'd be able to roll down without any major injuries and he wouldn't be able to follow straight away. ( Hopefully. ) She begins inching back, her balance wobbling with every step she takes in pursuit of escape.

   Only, a pesky tree seems to have other ideas on how that's going to go for her.

  An exposed root catches her foot and she goes spiralling out of control, diving headfirst over the precipice and rolling down the expanse of the hill, her sides prodded by rocks and twigs for the entire journey down. Her scream is cut off when she lands on her back with a sickening thud, all of the air rushing from her lungs at the sudden impact against the frozen forest floor. A howl croons from somewhere above but it sounds so distant, so faraway.

   Cove coughs, winded from the tumble. Nettle stings burn on her palms and the gentle brush of an overhanging foxglove strokes against her aching shoulder. The metallic tang of blood exudes from somewhere on her body but she can't quite tell where, the scent pungent and overwhelming. When she's positive that she hasn't been totally paralysed from the fall, her bruised body strains to an upright position.

   "Peter?" she croaks. "Are you alright?"

   A dejected squeak comes from her pocket.

   "Good to know."

   He noses at the fabric until it falls away and he can clamber out, his tail worming over her jumper with an awful slithering sensation. The rat morphs into a boy once more and his breathing is laboured, a hand pressed over his racing heartbeat.

   "Did you get hurt?" he asks breathlessly, steadying her shoulders with gentle hands to assist as she tries to stabilise the world while it spins around her.

   Cove swallows thickly. "Probably. I can keep going for now."

   "Fab," he mutters in a deadpan tone. "Come on. No time like the present. Best be on our way before our furry little friend makes an appearance. Or, y'know, something worse."

  She accepts his hand up, leaning into him as he slings her arm over his shoulder for support.

   "Aye," she manages. "That's a good shout."

  They stumble through the undergrowth, their flesh cut upon the thorny brambles that are being brandished by the surrounding bushes. He scolds her for her carelessness the whole way, batting away leaves so that she can duck under without getting whacked where she's sustained bruises and lacerations.

"I can't believe you'd try to look for him alone," Peter whispers. "Where's your self-preservation?"

"Sorry, must've left it at home today."

   He keeps ranting away under his breath. "This all could've been avoided..."

   Cove glares. "'Should've thought about that before you came begging for my help," she snaps. "What were you expecting me to do?"

   "Not this."

The ground grows loamy as they submerge themselves in the fir trees, the mud sucking at their boots and trying to drag them down under. They trudge through the tribulations that the Forbidden Forest throws their way, stumbling over the uneven ground and crunching fallen twigs underfoot.

"I could've done something," Peter whispers dejectedly. "Like we usually do on full moons. I probably could've prevented all... that." He winces. "Probably."

"Don't get too upset over it." Cove's eyes soften. "And I'm sorry, Peter, my love, but I'm not sure that you'd be strong enough to subdue him. Just, well, I think your animagus is a bit too wee for that. No offence."

"None taken. I think."

   They stretch into a clearing. The air grows colder, tenser. It draws in around them to wriggle through the notches in their knitwear and bite at the flesh with icy incisors, trapping them in a glacial embrace as the woods asphyxiate around them. Peter looks around anxiously and allows Cove to draw away to rest on a fallen tree trunk, her chest rising and falling rapidly. He wrings his hands nervously.

  "Do you think he noticed where we—"

  Peter's cut off by his own yelp as he's suddenly tackled to the ground, rolling halfway across the forest floor with a massive creature pinning him down. He wriggles furiously, his hands straining around the werewolf's neck to hold his biting maw well away from any exposed skin. His legs flail out wildly in an attempt to kick Remus away but he doesn't seem to have the strength in him to do any real damage against his opponent.

  "Cove," he manages to gasp out, arms beginning to wobble and strain under the weight. "Fuck! Help me!"

  Cove is at a loss for words, though that snaps her out of her initial shock. She raises her wand toward a branch that looms over the struggling  pair and flicks her wand sharply to form the incantation, sparks flying off the end as her voice raises to fill the quiet.

  "Diffindo!"

   The blow lands, the air contorting as a blast slices through the clearing towards her target. The branch is severed from the tree trunk, plummeting straight for the ground before catching on Remus' leg. He flounders under it for a bit, all howls and growls, clawing at the wood until he has visible skelfs protruding from beneath his claws.

   As his friend struggles, Peter worms his way into rat form and promptly rolls out of the way, scampering over roots and burrows while the wolf paws at the ground in pursuit of him. Unfortunately, it doesn't take long for Remus to free himself from the wooden prison and every hard blow dealt by his paws seems to be inching closer to fatality. Peter's life is hanging in the balance now.

   Cove looks around frantically for some way to distract him long enough for Peter to scurry away and save himself. As she fumbles around the clearing, her mind is an endless echo chamber of how much of an idiot she is for doing any of this shite in the first place. What was she thinking?

   Her eyes finally catch on something by her ankle, lighting up with an idea.

  She wrenches a rock the size of her palm from where it's nestled in the soil and without really thinking it through, Cove hurls it straight at Remus. She winces when it finds home square on his shoulder, the werewolf wrenching up on his hind legs to cry out in pain. That'll leave a nasty bruise come morning.

  She waves her arms wildly around her head, hollering so that he snaps around to face her with a growl. Cove tries her hardest not to cower away in fear, standing her ground to the best of her ability.

   "Mon then!" Cove shouts, palms cupped around her mouth. "Follow me!"

   The wolf twitches his ears, lips curling back into a low snarl. He begins tearing across the hillside towards her and her heart drops.

   "Oh," is all Cove can muster. She turns on her heel and bolts away from him, leaping over old rocks and fallen trunks in a wild scramble for her own life. She can hear the wolf snarling over her shoulder, practically nipping at her heels as she turns corners and whisks through the forest with adrenaline as the only surviving ignition for her speed.

  The woods stretch thinner until they're out in the open. She dodges obstructions and slippery patches of grass where the frost has melted, stumbling upon landing, her knees aching from all the exertion. But she can't stop now, especially considering how exposed she is without the trees to disguise her. A quick glance around reveals that Hogwarts is far away on the hilly horizon, signifying that they've managed to stray miles and miles out into the Highlands.

   Good. That means there's less chance of them being spotted.

  Her legs don't stop, although she can feel them straining with every step. Her muscles wobble and strain. It's then that her eyes catch on something crystalline glowing beneath the glare of the sinking moon, her gut lurching in relief.

  Water. She could cry.

   There's a small lochan beyond the tree line, a dock with an abandoned boat resting in the sprawling murk. Cove doesn't waste any time in using the last of her energy to run across the wood, shrugging off her jumper and diving from the rickety old dock, the glacial waters refreshing her where it would've given hypothermia to anyone else.

   Lucky that it wasn't frozen over. She utters a hasty prayer to countless water deities and shoos away a Grindylow that's getting too close for comfort.

   The water embraces her bruised body, soothing over all her cuts and nasty injuries with the kiss of a healing salve. For the first time in weeks, she allows for the water to embrace her with the kindness of a kindred spirit, her necklace aglow under the surface. Cove sinks like a rock whilst the lochan works to repair all her minor wounds, swaying over her flesh with a firm grip. She pulls herself upwards against the sinking pull of gravity when the throbbing in her head dims to a low pinching in her mind.

  Cove breaks the surface with a gasp just in time for a clawed hand to grapple out towards her skull. She can't stifle her scream — if she hadn't been drawn backwards by the rapid current, her head would've been cleaved into quarters.

    The werewolf recoils on the rocky bank, eyeing the lapping waves with contempt. The cold sears his flesh, his wounds still exposed and weeping from where he'd tore into himself. The water seems keen to protect her, much to his chagrin. Disgruntled that he's lost his convenient prey, Remus paces back and forth, pawing at her discarded jumper with an inexplicable flame in his canine irises. A howl keens from deep in his throat, echoing against the hillside and careening off the surface of the lochan. 

   "I know," Cove whispers, voice cracking. "I'm sorry."

   She doesn't expect a reply, obviously. Her head sinks further below the surface when the wolf snaps his teeth in frustration, claws beginning to pick at the fur that rests over his sternum. Blood trickles from the self inflicted scars that are wreaked by his anguish, his animalistic fury only illustrated by the dawn chorus as it begins to sing.

   His head tips back, maw parting to release a solemn howl. A final lament to the moon before the sun bursts over the horizon, his skin bubbling with the strain of the transformation.

   Cove looks away when she first hears the sickening crunch of cartilage grinding back into place. She dips beneath the surface completely, curling in on herself and allowing the water to swallow her whole.

   The rising sun glints off the water around her. His agony is muffled by the roaring waves in her ears, though her keen hearing still picks up on the snapping of bones and the muffled expressions of his pain. She sinks deeper as if it'll spare her from witnessing his suffering without being able to help him. It drives a dagger into her heart to realise that she simply can't do anything.

   The sudden silence is what makes her kick up against the current to greet the morning sun, its warmth lost on the cowering figure that twists in pain upon the shoreline. She frowns, blinking back the hot sting of tears.

   With a final, shuddering breath, Cove begins to wade towards him.

author's note!

idek what this chapter was i just wanted to write one in the woods and i realised i hadn't done wolf remus yet !!! can't believe it took me this long. it was a wee bit all over the place icl i'm not very pleased w how this turned out

cove was being a lil silly and made some foolish decisions but she's just a girl!!! i'll defend her till the day i die as if i'm not the one making her do all these things x

she has the intelligence of a horror protagonist in this one sorry folks

wrote this in my italian class instead of doing my work you're welcome everyone 🙏🙏 it was out of protest for being moved to the back of the class what can i say