A/N: A story very unlike my usual style. Mystery is still there but I have done a lot of experimenting. I wasn't very sure when I started but then I got involved and here it is:
- A Little Toil of Love -
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The grave would hinder me,
And life was not so ample I
Could finish enmity.
Some industry must be,
The little toil of love, I thought,
Was large enough for me.
- (Emily Dickinson)
An ethereal body reckoned thoughtfully, hovering in the empty Library.
Tomorrow was that day again...
-x-
Tree leaves rustled along with the low breeze of the night. The Forbidden Forest breathed rhythmically alongside all of its unusual inhabitants. Dark shadows elongated and diminished across the occasional clear stretches of the forest, making haphazard shapes on the protruding roots and uneven earth.
The wind swirled about the forest spine breathing along it.
Blackness widened.
A howl reverberated.
Few ears swiveled towards the noise.
A pair of hazel eyes stared fleetingly at a pair of bright amber ones.
A sharp wolfish howl rang through the forest again--a little more daunting than before--stopping a sturdy stag in mid canter. Its body tensed, ears erect, as if expecting something.
A black shadow, blacker than the midnight sky, bounded in view, blocking the stellar lights for a while, stopping an advancing monstrous figure on its tracks with a playful bark.
The werewolf bared its teeth and snarled challengingly.
The stag shook its crowned head with a low grunt.
A rat skidded to halt in front of the werewolf and jumped onto the dog's back, while it crouched low beside it.
The unusual trio watched the werewolf closely, evidently waiting for a sign.
A bellowed howl rang through the forest again, and as if on cue the dog and the stag plunged into the deep embrace of the forest, the monstrous werewolf hard on their tails.
Whenever the werewolf got close to either the dog or the stag, it snapped its jaws threateningly causing them to put of a burst of speed and sprint even faster.
The chase continued until they reached the Shrieking Shack, where the odd group at last ended the Marauder's game of Full Moon.
The dog barked in the general direction of the swishing braches of the Whomping Willow. The rat, in response, scuttled towards a knot at the base of the tree and pounced on it, opening a gap making the branches freeze. It disappeared into the fissure, closely followed by the unlikely group of dog, stag and werewolf.
It was almost twilight. The stars dimmed and the moon disappeared in the folds of the wallowing clouds. The werewolf lost its raggedy sense of destroying everything in sight with the passing ticks of time.
-x-