In the morning, after breakfast.

---

Zel found it funny that last month, the full moon was on the 28th---and this month it was also on the 28th.  It didn’t usually work out this way. As interesting as that thought was to him, Zelig dreaded the full moon. Growing up with his sister as a werewolf never did prepare him for the excruciating amount of pain he had experienced during his first transformation. He suspected that Emeline didn’t want him to worry—or maybe she didn’t expect him to understand. 

Either way, he understood now.

And every transformation since his first had been just as bad. But at least he usually was able to keep his humanity (most of the time).

Sometimes, the doseage he was given wasn’t quite correct—and it was hard for people to manage that. His weight fluctuated so often that figuring out the right amount for himself was… Difficult. Rumor had it that his dad’s side of the family had giant blood, way back. He wondered if that affected the wolfsbane’s effectiveness as well.

Either way, the dosage that Zelig required was grossly large, and it only took one missed or incomplete dose for the wolfsbane to be rendered useless.

At least, at least there was another werewolf that he travelled to the ministry safehouses with: Camelia Lyons. She had been a werewolf for as long as he knew her.  He had always treated her with kindness, though in the past he was much more shy around her than he was after he was infected.

Now, he looked up to her a bit; she had experienced this longer than he had. And she could understand him in a way that normal people never could.

He sat in the courtyard, waiting for their staff chaperone to lead them to the ministry.  “So.” He cleared his throat and glanced over at the Gryffindor, “Who do you think is gonna take us to the safehouses this time?”

Camelia on the other hand was not amused by anything, least of all that it was once again the 28th, and the God damn full moon had returned. Ever since Camelia had been turned, she'd dreaded the sight of the moon. It was no longer a beacon of hope or of mystery. Rather it was a sign of doom, a sign that Camelia would be wretched away from her human form and turned it a ravenous, blood thirsty, and uncontrollable monster. She hated the sight of the moon, she loathed songs mentioning the moon, she hated it all.

Camelia sighed heavily, though under her breath, placing her chin in her palms. She felt much more anger than she felt comfortable actually displaying here and now. She knew that Zel, though the same age and year as her, had not been a werewolf for as long as she had, and was even now still trying to get used to handling what this full moon really meant for his life.

She looked up once more when Zel spoke to her. She shrugged, pushing a bit of her hair back. "Can't say for certain. I know no one really looks forward to these evening jaunts."

He shrugged. It was probably going to be a professor who didn’t have morning classes that’d take them there, and pick them up tomorrow.

“No one looks forward to going to the safehouses.” He agreed, “Especially us.” By us, he didn’t mean only Camelia and himself, he meant werewolves in general. He had grown more irritable the closer it got to the full moon. When he saw Theo Whitman’s face at breakfast, he nearly wanted to hex him. Theo hadn’t even done anything to provoke him this morning.

Zel rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. “I wonder if we’re gonna run into my sister.” Emeline was the werewolf who had bitten him over the summer—Zel’s mother had withheld wolfsbane from his sister. As a result, Zel had gotten bitten. Their relationship was strained for a bit, but they were becoming close again. Zel’s mother was now in Azkaban, and she wouldn’t be leaving for years. And Zel’s testimony was the one that put her there. He had no intention of speaking to his mother again.

It seemed like Camelia wasn't in the greatest of moods. He could relate, but he didn't think it'd be a good idea to comment on it.

Camelia snorted in amusement, nodding. "No, it's not exactly the most fun of field trips. I would much rather go to Hogsmeade, or study Divination, or take a swim in the iciest, murkiest parts of the Great Lake," she listed off. She could go on, she wasn't sure there was much she wouldn't do instead of having to turn into a werewolf again.

"Emeline, isn't it?" Camelia asked, unsure if that was Zel's sister's name. She knew what had happened to Zel, they'd spent enough nights like this together to get to talking, and at one point he'd finally decided to tell Camelia what had happened. Camelia couldn't imagine being bitten by her own sibling, but then Camelia was an only child, so it was hard to imagine having a sibling at all. "What is she doing now? When she's not howling at the moon I mean?" If you couldn't make jokes like that about being a werewolf, you began to crack, you lost bits of your sanity here and there. Camelia refused to crack.

Zel nodded. “Yeah. Emeline.” He cracked a smile at Camelia’s joke. “Well. I don’t know everything.  She’s got herself a flat, and she’s waitressing right now at a place in Diagon Alley. I think she’s still figuring out what she wants to do. She’s a brilliant artist, so I hope she does something with her art. But, y’know..”

 He sighed almost sadly,  “It’s just… There’s no good job prospects for werewolves out there. Especially not werewolves who have bitten people.” He had forgiven Emeline for biting him, but the world would not. Besides, the bite had been his mother’s fault for withholding a dose of wolfsbane for her. He wished that things were easier for his sister, but the world they lived in did not favor werewolves. While she was hard working, creative, and generally likable, things were hard for her. Emeline wasn’t just struggling with her finances, she was also struggling with loneliness.

"It sounds like she's doing well for herself, then," Camelia commented, plucking at the grass around her foot absent mindedly. "Hmph, I'm no good at art. Don't have the patience for it. Unless you consider Quidditch an art, then, y'know, I'm awesome," Camelia joked, far from modest.

She nodded in understanding. "No, there's not. Sucks, doesn't it. From what I hear, it was absolutely not your sister's fault, what happened. She shouldn't be punished."  Camelia knew she felt strongly that way, but that didn't mean Emeline wouldn't be punished for the rest of her life. None of them, not Emeline, or Zel, or Camelia, would ever be normal. They most they could hope for was the semblance of normality, all the while knowing the truth.

He managed a smile, "I can't even get a few feet off on a broom without crashing. Or falling. Or breaking something. Remember flying class in first year?" Zel had managed to crash through the window of the Ravenclaw tower, and ran over a student with his broom. He broke his shoulder and was covered in his fair share of cuts from the glass and the poor studious student he had hit had cracked a few ribs.

Zel was wary of brooms ever since, though he did like watching the quidditch games.  His athletic skills were solely limited to swimming and running.

Then, he frowned grimly, "Yeah. It's not her fault, but it doesn't change how the world is." Zel groaned, "What are you going to do after school? I mean, we do have another year left but..."