1995-04-16: To Go Home


Jack_icon.gif Holly_icon.gif

Scene Title To Go Home
Synopsis After the night in the forest, Holly asks Jack about that so-called letter.
Date April 16, 1995
Watch For N/A
Logger Holly

There are no other werewolves in the camp. It's eerily silent until the very early hours of the morning, when the sounds of rustling leaves and footfalls can be heard outside. Holly stayed in the camp with the others - to protect them, to ensure that no other denizen of this place came after them. She's got her cabin, where she directed Jack, after setting Pete up in a bed in the hospital - Maggie will understand - and Chase in one of the empty cabins nearby.

The golden wolf stands, looking out the window at the returning wolves - all colours from white to black and everything in between. The part she doesn't like so much is coming soon… She can already feel it. And, along with that, the release that the werewolf's vicious mind has on her.

She can't help the initial whimper as she feels muscles and tendons beginning to stretch and change.


As the morning dawns, bright clear and — bloody hell — cold, Jack stirs from his unfamiliar bed, and shivers. He looks down at himself, realizing what he could've done last night. He casts a simple charm to repair his shirt and wraps himself up in a blanket, starting the day. He looks around to see where Holly is, and hears the whimper. Is that her? He's torn between running out to comfort her again and the realization that she's probably returning to human form.

"Holly?" Jack decides on the third option. He cracks the door just slightly, not looking out, but calling her name. "Are you alright, luv?" His voice is soft, but it does carry.


She's learned to live with this pain. It's not so bad, really, when you've been under the Cruciatus curse before, and all it takes is a little forward thought. The realisation that it'll be over in minutes is comforting. Paws become hands, ears become rounded and human, her body begins to feel more like her own, and all the while, the sound - it sounds as if someone's crushing her, shattering every bone in her body. Whimpers become cries - soft, but evident. There's only a small pause when it's over, and then a shuffling of feet and hands, a thud of her shoulder against the bathroom door, and then, she sick in the toilet.

It happens every time. She's sure it'll never stop, this sickness that comes after the full moon. And she's exhausted, but the fact of the matter is, she likely won't sleep for a couple days yet. Not well, anyway. As she leans over the toilet, she reaches for a towel to wrap around herself - one of those big, fluffy ones, but she doesn't move from her spot on the floor. "I'm okay, Jack," she says between breaths. The toilet flushes. "You can come in."


Jack winces when he hears her sick up, but he has no idea what she really goes through. Or didn't until now. He opens the door a little more, shedding the blanket from his shoulders to wrap around her own. "It's cold. Here." The simple act of comfort seems to steady him. "Do you — " he begins, unsure of how to continue. He shifts his feet, jittery in the face of the new experience. "Will you come home with us?" Have you learned enough, will it be safe? He gazes at her face, seeming to take it in. He missed her.


The warmth of the blanket is a direct contract to the cold of the porcelain she's leaning against, but she grabs it with both hands and wraps it around her shoulders anyway. Dark eyes look up at him, though there's still a hint of yellow in the irises that will vanish after a few minutes. Oddly, despite what she's just gone through, Holly seems peaceful, as if it's just something she has to deal with.

"Gimme a sec—" she mutters, leaning back from the toilet and propping herself against the wall instead. "Ah, there. Better." She doesn't answer Jack's question immediately, because she's got some questions of her own, now that she can converse. "Jack, what the hell are you doing here? What letter?"


What letter? This throws Jack for a loop. "Letter. Small roll of parchment bearing your name. Looked like your handwriting. Carried by your bird. He didn't make it." He's almost sarcastic. "Had blood on it. I thought it was yours." He realizes that something's amiss. "You didn't write it?"

Jack steps back, leaning against the other wall of the small room, running his hand through his hair nervously. "Damn." He hates being drug out on wild goose chases. "I was sitting in Florean's with Rosie eating his new flavor. Green chocolate. Turns your mouth green …" Irrelevant. This hits him, and he grins. "Anyway, and the bird comes winging in, carrying a letter, looking like Kreacher after Mo's played with him for a while." He chuckles at the idea. He wouldn't mind. He reaches into his pockets, and a few moments later, there's a well-creased bit of parchment with blood on it in his hands. "Thought I'd kept the thing." He holds it out to her.


Holly shakes her head. "Only letter I wrote you is the one I sent the day I got here." It's coming together in her mind, though. At least, she has guesses. After all, she can recognise each wolf in the camp by both appearance and scent. Reaching out with a shaking hand, she takes the offered bit of parchment, opens it, looks at the writing.

"The werewolf that attacked you… His name was Cam. He was a Muggle. Parents disowned him — he didn't have anyone." Folding the letter again, she holds it in her hand, arm resting across one knee. For awhile, she just concentrates on breathing and not throwing up again. "I knew something was going on. It's why I followed him. He must have written it to get you here. Everything's fine at the camp. They're not hurting me. I'm… Hell, I've never felt better."

It's that moment that she has to lean over the toilet again. Coincidences are funny like that sometimes.

"Emotionally, I mean," she adds, sitting back. "They've really helped me here. And I planned to go home after this full moon."


When she's leaning over again, he starts, intending to move to help her, then thinks better of it. The time apart has made him realize a few things as well. Not drastic or life-changing things, but small things about how he relates to the women in his life. Perhaps a lowering of his 'chauvanism', if you will. "I think she killed him." He was rather impressed. "I don't know what she cast or how she did it, but he didn't look too…" He shudders. "I need to thank her. The Noble family owes her a double debt."

"I'm sorry we got here on false pretenses, but I'm not sorry we came. And…" He smiles widely, a sincere smile. "I'm glad you're coming back with me.


"Poor kid," Holly says, and she does sound sorry. Still, she's not angry. He attacked her friends, meant to kill Jack - or worse. That thought causes her to look up at him, maybe a little too quickly, as she feels the sting of dizzyness swimming behind her eyes for just a moment. "He didn't bite you, did he?" Genuinely afraid, Holly's still sure she could help him through this, but she doesn't want him to have to endure what she did. It's just a long road of suffering that no one should have to face. "He's dead. He was definitely dead, I checked. Branch right through him. Honestly, he's probably happier."

He never would have fit into human society again. His face was torn to ribbons, he had no family or friends…

"I'm not sorry you came, either," Holly says after a brief pause. There's a tired smile there that reaches eyes that are puffy with dark circles around them. "I missed you. Thought about you every day. Can you help me up? I don't want to sit in the bathroom all day."


Idiot. The self-deprecating look crosses his face again, and Jack moves toward her, reaching a hand out. "And I thought about you every day as well…" To her comments about Cam, Jack just listens and nods for a moment, and then, when she asks about being bitten he shakes his head emphatically. "No. Didn't even scratch me, thank Merlin." He lets out a huge sigh of relief at that. He starts to help her up, stopping to slide his arm around her waist, hold her close, and kiss her hair. "I missed you." He said that already, but he's saying it again.


"Oh, good."

What else do you say to that? She hadn't smelled his blood, but then again, she was in the middle of a forest. Lots of things to smell out there, plus, the overpowering scent of dead wolf. For a long time, Holly just leans against him, glad just to have him here, alive and well and unharmed. And he came all this way for her, the - yes - idiot. She laughs, though, leaning close to his ear so she can whisper, "You could have been killed. Then what? All this progress I've made, I'd have no one to show it off to."

Her arms wrap around his shoulders, more for support than an expression of love. "I have something for Shivvy, too. Might help her cope with her fear. It's a Wolfsbane tea one of the residents here makes. Really calms you down - a little too much, but it'll help her sort things out." She kisses his cheek. "Who was that other guy that was with you?"


That other guy? Huh? Beautiful woman snuggling with him. Brain not working. He breathes in and gives a happy sigh. "That's m' brother Pete. He teaches Charms here at Salem. You don't know him?" Jack thought sure everybody would know Pete. Of course, he's from the British magical community where everybody knows everybody else's business. "He's a bit of a nutter, but a great guy. I'll introduce you to him." He grins.

"I'm sure Rosie'll appreciate that. We can give it to her when we get back to the school." That's where they started from. "We've got a portkey." He starts to move her into the other room. "Do you want me to…" He pauses again. "I can step outside while you get dressed, if ya like." He sounds a little like his little sister then.


"Pete. I know there was a professor at Salem who'd lead new wolves to the camp. I didn't know his name, though. There was a lot of secrecy involved, for obvious reasons." A tired chuckle follows. "You Nobles are just all over the place, aren't you?"

Holly feels a chill, a shudder of pain, and she hold onto Jack to prevent herself from falling back to the floor. Despite the fact that she's cool to the touch, she's sweating, looks like she has the flu or something similar. Again, it's something she's learned to live with. All part of the wonderous world of werewolves. "No," she answers. "I just want to try to get some rest. Collapse into that bed. I probably won't be moving much for a couple days." When she meets his eyes again, her own are back to their normal deep, chocolate brown colour. "If you sit with me, I'll tell you how awesome it was."


Her eyes changing colors intrigue him slightly, unnerving him a bit. However, he smiles. "Yeah. Take over the world by overpopulating…" He rolls his eyes. He's heard it all before. Something else he's got in common with that ginger bunch. "Okay. That sounds good. You rest up, tell me about its awesomeness, and …" He grins, guiding her toward the bed, firm hand around her waist giving her the support she needs. "We'll go home." He shifts the blanket around her to attempt to warm her up if she needs it.

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