"I can't believe she is ranked higher than me," Sirius muttered, lips curled upward in disgust.
He watched, cigarette dangling from his lips, as Summer Wright, the girl who'd somehow managed to outrank him in their small pre-med program, stumbled toward the ancient brownstone that served as the Kappa Alpha Theta sorority house. He tossed the cigarette aside, slowly approaching her. He smirked as she staggered towards the curb, blond hair hanging down her face as she vomited onto the street. He approached her from behind, grabbing her by the throat with a vice-like grip. He produced a scalpel, stolen from that mornings anatomy lab, pressing the sharp blade to her throat. "If you scream, you'll only make things worse," he whispered into her ear.
The girl whimpered, the scent of sick emanating from her mouth. Sirius wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Pathetic. You're just another pathetic sorority girl. Useless. Disposable."
Swiftly, he swiped the blade across her throat, shoving her into the street as dark red liquid gushed from the wound. Carefully, Sirius returned the scalpel to his pocket, before turning on his heel, to return home.
"Remus," Sirius gasped as he entered the apartment, surprised to find his boyfriend still awake at this hour.
"Siri," Remus grinned, carefully placing his book on the coffee table, "You're home."
"Didn't think you'd be up this late," Sirius started, nervously wiping his hands on his jeans.
"Couldn't sleep."
Sirius nodded, slipping his hands into his back pockets. "How was your day?"
"Fine..." he paused, nose wrinkled. "I smell blood... Are you bleeding?" he asked, eyeing Sirius curiously.
"Yeah," Sirius retorted, careful to keep his expression neutral. "I was practicing on a cadaver... nicked myself pretty bad with a scalpel."
Remus nodded. "You need to be careful, Doctor Black."
Sirius smirked. "I do like the sound of that," he noted, unable to contain a smile.
"Come on. Let me get washed up and I'll meet you in bed."
Sirius was unsure exactly when he'd developed a taste for bloodshed, but he was certain it had been at a young age. His earliest memory was of himself, as a precocious five year old, dissecting a stray cat he'd found in the backyard. By his teens, he'd graduated from animals to humans, stabbing a bum to death who'd hassled him during a late night walk home from a concert. He'd experimented with various methods; strangulation, poison, once even a gun, but he always found himself gravitating towards knives. There was something beautiful about it, he thought, a certain intimacy that came from holding a blade to someone's throat. It was a delicate art, knowing precisely how much pressure to apply, where to press the blade to insure fatality. Before Summer Wright, Sirius had already killed three of his fellow classmates at the University of Pennsylvania. Two had been pre-med students as well, vapid party girls whom Sirius felt were undeserving to have earned a place in the exclusive pre-medical studies program. The third had been a boy, Benjy, who had taken too keen an interest in Sirius' boyfriend, Remus. Unlike most of his kills, Benjy's had not been planned. That had been a heat of the moment attack. Arriving late to a party following an ethics of medicine lecture, Sirius had walked in on Benjy placing his filthy hands on Remus, his Remus, a single hand pressed firmly on Remus' chest as he leaned close, whispering something into his ear. Sirius had seen red, approaching the pair and grabbing Benjy by the throat, pulling him away from Remus. Without a moment of hesitation, he'd dragged the boy outside, cleanly slitting his throat with his pocket knife. That had been how Remus had gotten involved.
Remus had always suspected that there was something about Sirius that he couldn't put his finger on. Something sinister. The night he'd slit Benjy's throat confirmed those suspicions. He'd helped Sirius get rid of the body, neatly wrapping it up in a plastic tarp before tossing it into the Schuylkill River. He was unsure of how many people he'd killed before that night, but Remus was well aware that the body count had yet to cease.
Sirius had even let him help him kill one of his victims, which had been unbearably exciting. Sirius had carefully walked Remus through the process, carefully placing his hand over his, guiding him as he masterfully brought a sharp medical-grade scalpel to flesh, severing the jugular with a single swift motion. It had easily been one of the most erotic experiences of Remus' life, feeling Sirius' warm skin against his as he coaxed him through the endeavor, his gentle voice explaining how best to drain the body of blood. He'd stood, captivated by Sirius' very presence, as he lectured Remus on how best to sterilize the crime scene, rattling off best practices and the proper water to bleach ratio necessary to rid any surfaces of blood pathogens.
However, Remus wasn't privy to all of Sirius' late-night encounters. Armed with a growing thirst for bloodshed and an ever increasing array of medical knowledge, he'd taken to wandering the streets of Philadelphia, in search of unsuspecting victims. Sirius had become an expert in wielding a scalpel, his skill honed by the moonlight practice he'd had on the vagrants he'd lured to their deaths.
Remus didn't ask where Sirius went during his late night strolls alone, having long before learned to keep his mouth shut about such things unless Sirius broached the topic first. Still, he played his part, washing the blood from Sirius' clothes and always having an alibi ready, should he need it. There was something exciting about it, he thought, dating a killer. Remus had always fancied himself a romantic, and really, when it came down to it, what was more romantic than having your lover kill for you?