(no subject)

Wounds cured by magic heal quickly, but the scars they leave behind are often unseen and take their time.

Sometimes, they take a lifetime to cure. Bill is not expecting anything instantaneous. He's not expecting miracles. All he expects is to have some semblance of memory about what happened and what it means.

What does it feel like to be a werewolf? Does it feel different the rest of the month? Is there some sort of savagery I need to be looking out for? Because aside from the obvious, I don't feel any different.

My heart is still beating.
I'm still breathing: in, out. In, out.
I hear what goes on. I smell the food Fleur brings me. I feel her when I touch her, and the quality of my touch is no different. Not harsher, not wilder, not...

I have no idea what I'm talking about.

He looks at Fleur, sitting by his side so patiently with a jar of mending paste. There are less bandages today and it's easier to sit up. But he reaches for her arm.

"Fleur. You would tell me, wouldn't you, if there are... symptoms I can't see?"

Or won't see.

(The thought that he might not be able to tell scares him more than anything.)