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BitchBlonde
*I do not own Harry Potter


CHAPTER 2

Sirius struggled to remain focused at the sentencing hearing. He had sorely missed employment. Once his innocence was established and his health stabilized he had immediately sought Auror work. Unwilling to work for the Ministry out of sheer principle he found himself employed by an independent contractor - and he couldn't be happier. Sure the dangerous line of work concerned him, seeing as he was now a devoted godfather, but there was no sense in trying to stay away. He was born for this.

The wizard in question was one Sirius had tracked for months. He was accused of spying for Voldemort during the first war and had remained at large since, the case long since considered cold. Yet Sirius had not only managed to find the man but successfully compiled an immense quantity of evidence along the way. There was no doubt the verdict would ring guilty, but trial was an absolute. No matter how vial a criminal Sirius would never stand to see a man denied a hearing: an injustice he knew better than any.

Still, as proud as he was he was terribly distracted. The enchanted windows inside the Ministry showed nightfall's rapid approach. Soon Remus would be experiencing the merciless full force of his natural transformation, and Sirius would not be present.

Self-directed disappointment gnawed away at Sirius Black's insides as he forced his mind back to the hearing once more.

Meanwhile, Remus was thrashing about in his bed. Sweat encased his body as his temperature continued to spike, leaving the bed sheets beneath him wet and clingy. Even with the profuse perspiring the werewolf still felt cold shudders rack his body. His throbbing muscles clenched and generated spasms in response to the vicious internal struggle between man and beast. Remus knew transformation was quickly approaching. With a heave he rolled his body off the bed, hissing as contact with the hard floor jolted his body further.

Remus half crawled half slid down the stairs, struggling to reach the cellar. Fighting for consciousness he thanked every lucky star for Sirius' absence. Normally the company was a huge relief, but this time was different. This was like the first time all over again. He closed the cellar door and collapsed in the cold, dark room.

All day he had attempted to prepare himself. He'd taken a warm soak to loosen his muscles, forced himself to choke down as much meat as possible, and tried to convince himself that maybe, just maybe, going without Wolfsbane might not be too terrible of a system shock. He couldn't have been more wrong.

Biting down on his lip so as not to scream, Remus balled up on himself. He could feel his internal structures shifting, anatomically rearranging. Soon the splitting pain took to his head as if his skull were shattering and reconstructing itself under his skin. Never had the pain been so consuming. Unable to hold his silence, Remus screamed out into the empty house as the sound of cracking bones drove him into oblivion.

The Burrow
Ron and Harry had been practicing various Quidditch maneuvers all week. Ron had recently acquired the latest Cleansweep model (well, technically the family had as it was a raffle prize Mr. Weasley won at work) and was exceedingly eager to try out everything his imagination could fancy. However, as a cold front moved in with nightfall, Mrs. Weasley insisted the boys return inside. So the two best friends were rather unwillingly confined to Ron's room as heavy snowfall blanketed the Burrow, concealing the moon and stars above.

"I can't believe I've really got a broom." Ron said, more to himself than to Harry as he ran a freckled hand down the handle.

Harry smiled, happy to see Ron taking pride in a new possession. Being the youngest boy in a large family subjected him to a life of practical hand-me-downs. That was something that Harry could easily sympathize with having grown up in the Dursley household. "I brought the broom kit Hermione gave me. Want to give her a shine?"

The boys settled into a comfortable rhythm, seeing to their brooms with attentiveness not common in teenage boys. After a few minutes Ron spoke, "Pass me the trimmers, would you, Mate?"

Harry reached into the kit, frowning when he couldn't find them. "I must have left them on my bedroom table while I was packing. Look, I'll run over and get them."

"You sure you don't mind?"

"Of course not. I'll use your fireplace. I'll be five minutes, tops."

Ron pulled a lopsided grin. "Just don't let Mum hear you coming and going this late. You know how she gets when Fred and George leave her all worked up!"

Harry was through the Weasley's fireplace and into Sirius' almost instantly. Floo powder certainly took some getting used to, but the convenience was unparalleled. He took a few steps into the living room and headed towards the stairway, pausing when he heard sounds of rummaging from the cellar. Harry scoffed quietly; Sirius was frequently forgetting his wand and getting locked in various rooms. Magical homes could be quite cantankerous, and the Black family residence was particularly ornery on even its best days. Tapping the door lightly with his wand Harry stepped inside. Regret washed over him like an icy shower.

The cellar was deafeningly loud. Whatever he had thought he heard was clearly the result of a hasty and incomplete silencing charm. Growls and the nauseating snap of gnashing teeth echoed throughout the room. The thick smell of sweat and blood hung in the stale air.

"L-lumos!"

Harry barely saw the towering beast before it pinned him to the ground, his wand flew just outside of his grasp as he hit the bare floor. The light it radiated dimmed but did not quite extinguish. Immediately Harry realized his error. It was a full moon. A full moon that he had completely failed to remember. "Professor Lupin, stop!"

Golden orbs reflected only feral hunger. The werewolf's ears were pinned flat to its angular skull; foul odor clung to its body. A horrible snarl rumbled deep in its hollow belly.

"Professor, it's me! It's Harry!" The boy knew his words were futile but he refused to forget that a good man was somewhere deep within the recesses of the wolf.

Harry tried to squirm away but cried out as sharp claws tore through his shoulder with a sickening effortlessness. He drove the heel of his hand into the wolf's snout, mindful of his close proximity to the curse damning teeth. While the wolf didn't seem particularly pained it at least had the good graces to suffer a momentary shock, allowing Harry to roll a little bit closer to his wand.

"Moony, think of Padfoot! P-Padfoot and Prongs!" A haunting glimmer of humanity flickered briefly in the golden eyes but was gone in an instant.

The werewolf stalked around Harry in a tight circle, getting near with each revolution. Its matted body hunched low in a mean coil of muscle and bone. Harry knew the beast was toying with him now; it was a savage game of cat and mouse.

"Professor, please. You're a Marauder, not a monster!"

Harry wasn't sure if he imagined the hours of stillness or if time really had ceased to move. The werewolf was motionless, as if carved straight from granite. Some dangerously fragile boundary separated boy from beast. Slowly the werewolf turned away and bolted across the room, violently flinging itself into the closest wall. Guilt and shame hit Harry's stomach like a ton of bricks as he realized not only how lucky he had just been but the devastation his absentmindedness had caused for his godfather's dearest friend. The beast no longer had prey. It had drawn blood and found warm flesh only to be denied its carnal needs. The monster demanded compensation.

Harry seized his wand and stood, desperate to ease the werewolf's suffering before fleeing to safety. With a steeling breath he pointed his wand, "Stupefy!"

The wolf whipped around, not stunned in the least, and lunged straight for Harry.


*** I promise that the following chapters will be lengthier as this chapter was largely dialogue free