Disclaimer – I own nothing you recognise
Beta'd by the lovely Michy
A/N – Read with caution because this fic is gross. Seriously, it creeped me out while I was writing it, so yeah.
Written for the Care Of Magical Creatures Class at Hogwarts. Also written for the Hunger Games Competition – Wolf Mutts.
Word Count 527
Blood Lust
He prowled the halls, looking for fresh victims, to bite, to taste, to kill. The instinct was built into him like the need for air, and he loved it. Many – in fact, most – people he came across found him disgusting, vile, terrifying, a whole long list of adjectives that meant the same thing, and he fed on it.
He fed on the screams of terror of the Muggles who happened across him on a full moon. He fed on the crying and the begging and pleading as he advanced towards them. He fed on them trying to escape, running like they had a chance of avoiding the pain of him ripping them apart.
He fed on the chase, on the excitement on the build-up. He loved it. He, and his wolf, for they were one and the same, loved to see the damage, the carnage they caused whenever the moon was full and bright up in the night sky.
Most of all, he fed on the blood. On the metallic smell that burnt his nose, the tangy taste, the delicious sight of the red dripping from whatever victim's throat he had just ripped out. He needed it. It made him feel alive, it made him feel... like the wolf he only turned into a one night a month.
There was a time when that was enough for him, enough to sate his appetite for the warm liquid that flowed through him so smoothly. Just a few nights a month, but they were the best nights. Now though, now he had to have more. A few nights wouldn't suffice.
He craved it. And with the blood came the screams and the begging and the chase. That just made it more deliciously appealing to him. He embraced the wolf completely, allowed it complete control of his body, of his mind. He allowed the blood lust to dictate every movement, every action, every thought.
He lived it, and he dreamt it, and he loved it.
Tonight, in Hogwarts, the metallic smell was overpowering, and it was euphoric. Blood spilt in every corridor, on every stone of the old castle, and he breathed it in. He'd had his fair share of kills this night, and had enjoyed every one of them. Now it was time to collect the spoils of battle. To feast on the remains of the fallen like the savage he knew he was.
He knelt down beside a particularly delicious smelling morsel – children always tasted better, their blood was cleaner, freer, innocent – when he heard footsteps behind him. He moved quickly, the wolf taking over once more as he prepared himself for battle, to protect what he had claimed as his own.
A gasp. A cry of disgust, and anger.
The sounds were like music to his ears, and he smiled a feral smile. Tonight was his night, the blood was his blood, and this man just another victim to feast upon.
He didn't feel the green light as it hit him.
Fenrir Grey back died as he had lived, with a feral smile and blood around his mouth. A monster from a nightmare.