Disclaimer: It's not mine but once I've saved enough for poor darling Remus, I'll be content.
For vampiregirl50's competition
June 1966
The full moon is tonight but by the flattering light of a summer afternoon sun, Fenrir Greyback isn't terribly frightening at all. In fact, despite the approaching moon, there is very little about him that betrays his disease. Suddenly, the rumours about him are mere fishwives tales. He's perfectly charming.
Perhaps, thinks John Lupin, it's because he works closely with werewolves every day, but there is nothing unusual about this man; except the glint in his amber eyes.
The dog whimpers and shrinks into the bush. Greyback smirks and stares into its eyes.
"Bloodhound." It is a statement, not a question, and John frowns slightly. "Big bugger."
He hums his response, "Listen, I really don't think there's a lot I can do for you."
"You could probably hook him up to a sleigh in the winter. He's huge."
For the first time, John laughs. "You're joking! Anaeus is afraid of snow. He's afraid of everything."
The backdoor flies open and in a blur of bright red hair, bleached by the sun, and emerald cotton, his son sprints past him offering a smile to his father's guest but otherwise ignoring his presence. He doubles back.
"Dad, have you seen 'Naeus?"
John smiles. "Flowerbed."
"He's eaten Mum's make-up. She's going bananas. I'd hide too."
At the mention of his name, the bloodhound rises and pads towards the little boy. Their colouring is almost identical. One glance from Greyback and the dog shrinks behind his master's legs.
"This is my son. Remus, this is Mr. Greyback. He um…we're working together."
Remus takes the offered hand and notes the thick and course hairs on the back of it. He's been brought up better than to stare but he can't help but feel uneasy. "Mum says to hurry up, dinner in ten minutes." Pleased that he has delivered his message, Remus' bounce returns and he heads back to the kitchen, tapping a thigh and beckoning the bloodhound. "Why do you have to eat everything you see? You know she'll hit you with the spatula." Suddenly he turns and waves. "Goodbye, Mr. Greyback."
Greyback smirks and watches until the boy disappears into the haven of his mother's kitchen, concealed by shade and protected by a woman who appears to be rather handy with her spatula.
"I'm sorry, you were saying?"
Remus isn't afraid of the dark. He's been blessed with inherent superb eyesight. The end of the bed feels cold without his dog. He swings his feet out from under the duvet and pads over to the windowsill. There's a glint of silver outside. He bites his lip. He's been told about wandering into the forest just outside their little garden, warned even.
He steels himself. Anaeus is more afraid than he is and despite the earlier warmth, the night is bitter. He couldn't bear it if it killed his pet, he just couldn't. Taking a deep breath, he opens his door so quickly that the hinge doesn't creek. He creeps across the landing, too stealthy for his own good.
He jumps down the stairs, knowing exactly which places to avoid for fear of detection. He quickly checks the kitchen and finds it empty. He slowly clicks the latch on the backdoor and in one swift motion, he's outside.
The night air creeps up his sleeves and trouser legs, snaking around lithe limbs and making him feel as though his whole body has been plunged into liquid nitrogen. He shakes and only partly as a result of the wind. He's never been out on his own in the dark before. He's always been far too afraid of just what his mother would do to him if he dared to disobey her.
He's not even afraid as he enters the forest. After all, he can still see his house. The door is still wide open ready for him to run back inside. The bright full moon provides enough light to see by on the outskirts anyway.
He begins by whistling. He jumps and gasps. He's never thought about the noise he makes before. It pierces the silence and seems to echo around him. Hearing nothing from the house, he tries again, louder this time, more daring. He presses himself against a tree as the curtains are pushed back. He's woken his mother. He gulps. No choice now but to press on where she can't see him.
He has to gasp for breath. The forest is humid and the lack of oxygen has made him giddy. He knows he is too loud but he remembers the way out. He'll run if he gets scared. This thought pushes him onwards until the path twists and he realises that he doesn't remember which way he came.
He takes a deep breath and begins to hum his mother's favourite song. It's comforting and his head clears. It won't be long until sunrise and they'll notice he's gone and come looking for him. He needn't worry. All the same, he thinks, he had better head back. Anaeus will emerge when he is ready to face the spatula.
Remus turns and is faced with two amber eyes. He gasps and steps back. The eyes glow and the body they belong to steps forward to meet him. This time, he can make out long, yellow teeth. He shudders. His father being Head of Werewolf Registry, he knows precisely what stands before him. He knows the danger he is in.
Those eyes are vaguely familiar. He tries to swallow but finds his mouth is dry and his cheeks are wet. The werewolf snarls and a fire burns at the pit of his stomach. He can do this. He can make it. He knows where he is.
Remus takes a deep breath and runs, barging past the wolf and sprinting until his lungs burn. He is only a six year old boy and he is almost immediately caught and pinned to the ground. The pressure on his already aching chest, causes a cry of pain and the wolf draws nearer, baring its teeth.
They sink in just below his shoulder, exposed by the rip in his pyjama top, caught on a branch as he ran. He watches the blood drip from the wound and feels physically sick. He takes a shaky breath and listens to the sound of movement around him, the sound of his father calling him. He manages a faint cry before he passes out.