Burn

It had been a very long time since Remus had gone without Wolfsbane on the full moon, and it could be argued that his wolf was somewhat tempered now - but like most werewolves, he still had a choking and possibly irrational fear of the hospital. At least back in his earlier days, there were certain...protocols one had to be put through once the condition was discovered in their blood, and Remus was still traumatized even if it wasn't like that anymore. He avoided St. Mungo's at all costs, sometimes at the cost of his own health. There were certain things, though, that just couldn't be avoided. Like giant dragons made of cursed flame and their proclivity for burning people's skin off.

Remus was lucky to have gotten out with just one charred arm, really. The pain had knocked him out and ended up him in a hospital bed, sure, but it could have been much worse. In the days since what was now appearing to be their revival, the Death Eaters at large were still showing off. No more large-scale attacks, not yet, but they were fighting back with renewed strength and showmanship against both Aurors and Order folk alike. The flashiness of Death Eaters would always be their downfall, in Remus' opinion - but in the meantime, it would apparently be his, too. He was on one such mission with the Order, hot on the heels of a few grimy gits they had on good authority were involved in the attack on the Muggles, when the Death Eaters stopped running and decided to face them. They fought, and they fought hard. Remus was about half sure the Fiendfyre dragon one of them eventually conjured had been a total, out-of-control accident - but even total, out-of-control accidents can burn a man alive.

Remus didn't remember much between the time of feeling like his body temperature was rising a thousand degrees, and waking up in St. Mungo's. He would have panicked, waking up unbeknownst in this place...but panicking hurt too much. Fiendfyre was cursed dark magic, and it was still working its way through Remus and his skin, just at a much slower rate now that it had lost its source. He could only sit still and watch the skin bubble on his arm with a mixture of slight fascination and lots of disgust. He turned his head when he heard the door open, anticipating the worst, but relaxed a bit at the sight of the very young girl in Healer's robes. Mali, she said her name was. To Remus she hardly looked old enough to be out of Hogwarts - but to be fair, the older he got, the more everyone younger than him began to look that way. "Hello Mali." He smiled thinly at her proclamation. "Indeed I am." Remus shifted his arm as much as he could when Mali came over to him to look at it, wincing slightly and nodding when she asked if she could take it. He watched her face as she studied him. He would have to be very careful here. On top of his irrational fears that Mali was going to notice his telltale scars and aging and chain him up to the bed for being a werewolf - there was also the matter of his injuries bearing pretty obvious signs of Dark magic. He couldn't reveal all the secrets of the Order to her just because he'd gotten himself hurt, of course - but he equally didn't want her to think he'd cast the curse himself. That could get just as sticky.

And there it was, the accusation - almost immediate. Remus sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, as Mali whisked away to her cupboard. What to do, what to do? When she came back, he tried his best to make his face as open and vulnerable as possible. He wasn't the best liar, but surely he could get himself some pity points, poor old man all laid up and injured. "Fiendfyre, you say?" He shrugged, examining his arm as if just for the first time seeing the damage to it. "Hmm. That is very...ah, ouch...strange. I haven't a clue what happened, really. I was just, er, heating up my cauldron. And now I'm here." He grimaced. "Have you got anything for pain there? It hurts something awful."

Almost immediately, Remus was caught like a rat in a trap (or a bad puppy next to a puddle of piddle, if you wanted a slightly more accurate metaphor). He really should call upon one of his many Auror friends for some lessons in deception (maybe not Dora; he wasn't entirely sure where lying stood on the spectrum between stealth and concealment). Mali the Healer's disbelief was written clearly all over her face as her eyes snapped so suddenly to him it almost made him jump. He gulped hard down a slightly scratchy throat and watched her carefully, wondering what that lie had just earned him. Dealing with security would be inconvenient and annoying, but manageable; but if this witch had some sort of personal vendetta against Dark magic, and a clear conviction that he'd been doing it, Remus could be in trouble here.

For a moment, the tension seemed to dissipate. The Healer responded to his request for pain relief, at least, and Remus held out his hand for the vial - but then she took it away. It was Remus' turn to look up at her incredulously. Was she allowed to do that? Probably so, actually. She had a good point - just doing her job thoroughly, though the coldness in her voice rather betrayed her spite. She had the right to coerce the truth as much as he had the right to lie; it was just the matter of one of them breaking first. "I didn't say it wasn't Fiendfyre," he mumbled, trying his best to look pitiful. "You're probably right, you are the Healer after all." Or maybe he could charm his way to that potion vial. Or maybe a little of both. "Please. It hurts."

But none of that was going to be enough, Remus knew that the moment the words left him. More empty lies. You couldn't show up anywhere with any remote connection to Dark magic and not explain it, not the hospital or the Ministry or any such place. Remus would certainly expect an explanation, if the situation was reversed. He grumbled as the witch poked at him with her wand, and then sighed. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I'm just sort of...embarrassed." More lies, a little less empty this time. "I ran into some bad guys. They cast it, I didn't get away in time. The world's gone crazy as of late, don't you know? I should really learn how to defend myself but...," he shrugged, shifting his arm and wincing again. "Obviously I haven't." Remus could sit here all day and contemplate if that was really all a lie (he really had run into some bad guys, after all, just on purpose; and he really had no clue how to defend himself against a giant cursed dragon made of flame), but he was much more interested in getting his arm fixed and getting home to check on his wife.

His wife. Hey, there was an idea...Remus looked back up at Mali and tried to smile through his irritation. "My wife, she must be so worried about me. Has anyone been through to see me, do you know?" Hopefully he could paint himself as a loving family man for this Healer. At the very least, knowing if Dora or Harry or someone had been through to check on him, he could at least know Mali might have a little more difficulty actually getting him arrested.