The Devil Incarnate- (Remus POV) Remus is a very blood thirsty, troubled boy and one day sees an injured man in Hogsmeade, which triggers a path of self-destruction. Who is this man, and why is he so interested in Remus? Rated PG-13 for blood, blood and more blood (rating may go up later). Smatterings of self-mutilation etc. but nothing too detailed…yet. Remus/Sirius throughout, but a bit one sided so far.

A/N: Hullo. This is a story I've been thinking about writing for a while and finally brought up the courage to write it. Remus is very very depressed, pessimistic etc. in this fic, so basically OOC. He's also a bit obsessed with blood, so people who don't like that need not apply. It's very dark, don'tcha think? Well, enjoy if you dare.

Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter related stuff, otherwise all the characters would probably be manic depressives.

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It all started that night, one chilly November night: my descent into madness and the road to near destruction. No one was to know, except Sirius, my rock, my everything. He was there for me, when others only saw the shell, the fake Remus, the smile and everything will be better Remus. He knew the true story but once he was gone, that was it. No turning back. I couldn't be saved.

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7th November mid 1970s

"Over here, over here! Someone come over here, quickly!"

We- James, Peter, Sirius and I- had been walking down Hogsmeade high street, after a day wasted on browsing the shops. Frivolous purchases had been made; nothing too important was bought, it was all for the pure sake of spending money that we ended up with half the stock of Zonko's and enough Honeydukes chocolate to feed a small army.

An exciting debate about Quidditch teams had erupted in the Three Broomsticks, causing many customers at the pub to be forcibly removed by a couple of nasty looking security guards. However, apart from that, the trip was pointless.

The earlier shout had come from a group of hyped 3rd year hufflepuffs. They were circling something, which obviously was of great interest to them.

"What d'you reckon it is?"

"Should we go look?"

James and Sirius seemed interested, Peter would follow those two into the bowels of hell if need be, and was therefore scuttling after them at an alarming speed. Which left me, standing in the middle of a muddy street, surrounded by bags, so rather than being left out, I decided to look too.

Once the hufflepuffs had parted slightly, I could see what they were so excited about: a man. From a distance, he looked haggard and travel worn, a suspicious smell drifted angrily around him like a swarm of bees and he had collapsed onto the floor, a crumpled heap.

He was staring up at the Hufflepuffs through desperate eyes, hungry for help- those eyes were hypnotic, a deep grey, fathomless pits of emptiness, so like Sirius', but so unlike his too. These eyes carried a great pain, a pain that could not be communicated through words, a pain, which was carried on the shoulders of one person and one person alone. This was my first introduction to those eyes, one, which I would never forget.

"Move it Jenna." Sirius said elbowing a smallish giggling Hufflepuff girl out of the way to get a closer look at the man. I peered over Sirius' shoulder at the stranger. He seemed to be in great pain; I looked at him from a distance, using Sirius as a barrier, it was almost as if, if I got too close then I would become infected. Sirius was a very comforting barrier, his enticing smell seemed to block out everything else. I felt safe.

The man was clutching his side with a blood stained cloth, his face bore innumerable cuts and his breathing was ragged. He was mouthing a word, over and over, but no sound actually escaped his lips. During this time, he stared straight into my eyes, grey capturing amber in such a way that it was impossible to escape from, stealing a gasp from me. It was as if he were drawing my soul out of my body, I was reminded vaguely of a dementor, but this man was nothing like one, I hope.

"What is it mate?" Asked James, looking concerned and squatting down in front of the man, who turned his eyes to James instead of the me, to my relief. "What're you trying to say?"

The man opened and closed his mouth, like a goldfish, but not in a comical way, doing this was depleting all his remaining energy stores. He eventually spat out a word "W-W-were-w-w-olf." Which created mixed reactions.

I blanched, Sirius and James glanced at each other, and then at me, Peter looked shocked and the hufflepuffs screamed and dispersed. The man then fainted, obviously from sheer exhaustion. His hand holding the cloth dropped from his side and the blood from his wound seeped onto the floor, staining the mud red and draining his face of any remaining colour just as fast.

"Shit!" James jumped up and started issuing orders "Peter, go to the three broomsticks and get help…" Peter nodded and ran, with some trouble, in the direction of the pub

"…Sirius, run back to Hogwarts and get someone important down here…" Sirius sprinted off without a word, overtaking Peter within a few seconds

"…Remus? Can you fix wounds?" I nodded, and took out my wand. I knelt down next to the man and muttered a spell; it would stop the blood flow for a few minutes, but not forever. I only knew basic first aid. James hovered, looking worried, I could tell that he wanted to do something, but couldn't think of a useful task.

While we were waiting, I took the opportunity to look at the man's wounds. They certainly looked werewolf-induced. The gashes were deep, a few days old I would say, which tallied with the moon, I should know. I tried to think back, but at the full moon, the animal in me takes over and I can rarely remember anything…or control myself.

"Prongs?" I asked, turning to James who was pacing "Last moon, did I wander off by myself?"

"Erm…no." James said, with some hesitation,

"Are you sure?" I quizzed him, trying to bore my eyes into his, but he kept avoiding my gaze

"Oh fine, if you really wanna know, you did for a few minutes. We lost you on the grounds though, and found you minutes later, by the lake. Nowhere near here and no scratched up humans in sight. It can't have been you. Don't worry mate."

I stared at the stranger, whose face was contorted in pain. If I had caused this pain, if I had made another human suffer, I would have to punish myself. It was the only way.

"It could have been though, it could have been me."

"Rem, snap out of it." James said, shaking my shoulders slightly as I stared hopelessly in the direction in which Peter was returning with Madame Rosmerta and a few Hogwarts staff members, all looking worried. "It wasn't you, now drop the sad-case act."

He let go of my shoulders as the adults arrived and took over the situation.

Within a few minutes, the man was on a stretcher and travelling towards Hogwarts as fast as possible without him falling off and we were being quizzed by a very perplexed looking Professor McGonagall.

"Potter. What happened?" She spoke in a clipped tone, but there was something in her voice that gave away that she was very interested in the situation. James started on a rant about how the hufflepuffs found him, how we took over and what the man had said. When he mentioned the word 'werewolf', McGonagall's eyes flicked onto me.

"I see." She said, surveying us carefully, as if to count that we were all there, "And where is Mr Black?"

"He went back to Hogwarts, to alert Professor Dumbledore." I answered, pulling myself out of a reverie.

"Well, Potter, Lupin, Pettigrew, come with me." She then led us through the streets of Hogsmeade, and back to Hogwarts. The castle was silhouetted against the starry sky, looking more imposing than I had ever seen it. Perhaps because it had allowed a stranger through its doors, something it didn't seem to like doing.

McGonagall walked briskly along the corridors and led us to the hospital wing. It was odd; it was if she immediately knew where Dumbledore was going to be, without being told. She must have known he wasn't in his office, as she led us right past it.

Once at the hospital wing, she told us to wait outside and we were soon joined by Sirius, who was biting his lip, and was close to drawing blood at the rate his teeth were tearing his tender gums.

"What is it?" James asked, who knew his best friend's moods like the back of his hand

"I'm just worried." He said and sat down on the floor, with his back to the wall, continuing to gnaw at his lip. James and Peter had evidently given up on Sirius engaging in conversation and took turns peering through the keyhole to the hospital wing.

"Sirius…" I said, sitting down next to him, he was oblivious to me sitting there, just like how he's clueless about how I feel about him. Stupid dog. He'd know one day; I'd make it perfectly clear and then wait for his response. I wonder what it will be…

The rhythmic grinding of his teeth was the only sound that he made and when he finally drew blood from his lip, I licked my own. I admit that I have a terrible blood lust. I adore it: the smell, the taste, the myths, but especially the colour. Blood red. I get chills thinking about it. Sometimes I think I should be a vampire instead of a werewolf, I'd be much happier.

His fingers crept to his mouth and touched his bleeding lip, staining the ends in my favourite colour. It took all the strength I could muster not to lick it right off his fingers then and there. My two favourite things, Sirius and blood, blood and Sirius, bloody Sirius right there in front of me. Bloody Sirius, it has a nice ring to it.

I blocked welcome, but inappropriate thoughts from my head and spoke to him again.

"Sirius." He looked up this time, the second pair of grey eyes to stare into my own today, and sighed. "Do you want me to heal that for you?"

"If you'd be so kind." He replied, dropping his hands into his lap, where he smudged the blood up and down his fingers in slow rhythmic movements. It was killing me, but I decided to focus my mind. There would be time for bloody Sirius later, lots of time.

I used the same charm to heal his lip that I had the stranger's, but I put more effort into healing Sirius, although I dearly wanted to see that red mercury again. After I had finished, McGonagall opened the door, and closed it again quickly behind her, but not before we could hear screams of agony.

She thanked us for finding the stranger and getting help so quickly. She talked about his wounds. She gave us house points. She told us to go to bed. She thanked us again. She left. However, I wasn't listening, I was watching Sirius' fingers. The blood was hypnotising me. I couldn't help it.

I had obviously zoned out so much that I was forcibly steered back to the common room by the others because I couldn't remember walking back there. All I could remember was Sirius' lips coated in a layer of blood, which looked way too inviting to be allowed.

I returned to the real world once inside the Gryffindor common room, and looked around, as if to check if anything had changed in our absence. It was dark outside and the fire was roaring in the grate. The long shadows of the armchairs crept across the floor and snatches of conversation came from these armchairs, where younger and older students sat and chatted aimlessly.

As a group, we walked up the stairs and into our dormitory. We were lucky in that there were only the four of us, the fifth person in our dorm had left in our second year and gone to Durmstrang instead. Obviously, we scared them away. I can never remember their name, I think it began with K…?

James and Peter quickly got ready for bed and were in their pyjamas within 5 minutes. I decided to take longer to get ready today and to take a long session in the bathroom. I waited for Sirius to finish with the bathroom and was disappointed when he emerged with clean fingers, no blood in sight. Well, I'd get my fair share of blood that evening, even if it wasn't his.

When I entered the bathroom, it was a pristine white; the house elves had certainly been doing their job right. It was glistening a frosty white, but I had every intention of staining it.

I opened the cabinet carefully, my reflection stared at me from its mirrored surface, amber eyes determined and hungry, hair tousled and I also noticed that I was grinning maniacally. Good. I reached in the depths of the cupboard and found it lingering near the back: the razor blade. I wasn't like those other depressed people who cut themselves to relieve their pain, or to feel powerful or in control. I cut myself because I love blood. Lots and lots of it. And anyway, I have an alibi; werewolves create scratches just as easily as razor blades can.

Now, because I wasn't like the other people who cut themselves, I never cut my wrists. Too conspicuous, too obvious. My friends would notice within 5 seconds of me exiting the bathroom, so I went about it in a different way. First, I would run a bath, an excuse for being in there so long. It was easier that way, no awkward questions like 'Why were you in the bathroom for 45 minutes if you were only brushing your teeth?"

I set the bath running, no bubble bath, it irritated my skin. The water lapped over the porcelain surface, slowly filling it with warm water. I could hear the others talking faintly, they were discussing the stranger. Whatever. He didn't matter for now.

Once the water was three quarters up the side of the bath, I slid my clothes off and slipped into the water smoothly, still holding the blade. The warm water was soothing, I have to admit. It gently caressed my muscles, which always ached for days after a transformation. My thoughts almost wandered away from blood for a few minutes, but they came right back, as the blade cut into my palm.

I immediately dipped my hand into the water, and watched the blood spiral around in the water, creating swirling patterns. To me, they were beautiful, but they would have disgusted others. I took the razor now, purposefully and was about to cut my arm, just above my elbow, when there was a knock at the door.

"Moony, we need you. Are you decent?" it was James.

"N-no." I said, swearing to myself as I got out of the bath and picked up a white towel, and wrapping it round my waist. I chucked the blade in the bin and clenched my fist so they couldn't see the small cut. I then picked up my wand and made all the bath water vanish. Looking round the room for anything out of the ordinary, I deemed it clear and then opened the door.

"What is it?" I asked, looking irritated

"Professor Dumbledore just came up and asked for you. You need to go to the hospital wing. Something about the man earlier." James garbled, looking at me in a strange way; I realised that he was staring at the cuts on my torso, fresh from the recent full moon. I did nothing to cover them up, I was quite proud of them, to tell you the truth.

"Great." I replied, "I'll just get dressed." I hastily changed back into the clothes I had been wearing earlier, red T-shirt, beige jacket and jeans, and set off at a brisk pace to the hospital wing, after bidding my friends a good night.

"Well, I guess we'll have to wait till tomorrow night." I muttered to myself, and the razor blade in the bin, which supposedly could hear me from this distance, as I walked towards the hospital wing.

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A/N: So? Well review and tell me what you think.

xxx The One Winged Pegasus xxx