Book: Harry Potter Series
Pairing: Sirius/Remus
Author: Green Bird
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but, if I did… I'd kill Cho.
Rating: PG-13 or more or something
Note: (Happens somewhere during book #4, just so you know. Early November I figured, before Sirius talked to Harry in the fire.) Slash. Little violence. Limes sooner or later. Angst. Lots of it. Swathed in it like BBQ sauce baby! Oo…
Notes on this Chapter: Yay… touchy touchy! Boo! Moony moony! Run! Wolfy wolfy! …sorry. Aroooooo! What you've been waiting for, the moon! Luna has come and we're faced with a rather violent, yet sweet chapter. Don't worry, you will soon the slaked. Next chapter is the last.
Sanguineous
Branches broke away easily to his push, which was convenient for the purpose of movement, but horribly frightening… as it drew the silent night's attention toward him. Little did it matter; one could sniff him out anyway. Fear was a rank smell. It would have flooded his own nose if he had not been running so fast.
Somewhere behind him, a lengthy shape pursued with an undying fervor, its intention unsure, yet persistent. The two figures ran fast through the forest's throws, one panicked and one hungered by some unknown need. The night was devoid of any sound but their breath and blundering until the second figure let loose his voice; freezing the woods with its haunting tune.
The dog ran with all of his strength; the werewolf was loose.
Upon command, Sirius had locked up the house, keeping Buckbeak well inside. The hippogryph had met the full werewolf once before and both parties involved would love never to again.
Nightfall was close and the scent of the evening was thick in the air around them as they walked out into the back yard of Lupin's house, pushing through the gate in his wall to enter the forest beyond. The stretch of wood was large enough to accompany a one night venture… but because of the behavior that Remus said he exhibited when transformed, neither of them had any idea where they would find themselves in the morning. If they got through the night without severe damage, for all Sirius cared, they could both end up in the middle of muggle London.
"Stay close to me." Lupin whispered, as if careful to disturb the air that he soon would shatter with his howls. "I need to know you're here."
Black moved nearer, walking in time with his friend. For a moment, he almost dared to reach out and take Remus's thin hand into his own, but he resisted the need to hold on.
In that sudden urge, his arm had moved impulsively closer. As they walked, their swinging limbs passed close and the back of their hands brushed. With the slight contact, Remus flinched in surprise, feeling the hotness of his body's defense at it. He was too wary, too nervous to think straight.
Black took it in another way entirely and shrunk down, but his feared discomfort was too tangible and the werewolf found it.
"It's alright." Lupin managed, not daring to dart his eyes to the side to catch Sirius's gaze. "You just alarmed me, that's all." There was a pause in sound then, only interrupted by their steps. Remus suddenly became nervous at the possible translations and decided that for once, he would not be cryptic on his needs.
The werewolf's thin hand reached out and his pale fingers enclosed themselves over Black's even bonier ones. Under his palm, Sirius held him back.
Like two shabby scarecrows, they strolled almost smoothly under the trees, avoiding the trunks in their path that threatened to separate them. Under their feet dry leaves crunched, most having already abandoned the tree's arms.
Clouds covered near all the sky, making the evening darker than it was. A lonely blue glow had enveloped all of the world, painting a forest that spoke despair itself. The tones of the colors were so cool they seemed frigid to the eyes, but if anyone else would have looked into this place, they'd of thought it peaceful. It wasn't even close for them.
The blue precursor of night was like an icy breath upon their necks.
When Remus stumbled, Black was faster than he had been the first night and caught him soundly. The convict's other arm came about to neatly fold over the werewolf's chest and hold him upright in an embrace. In his grip, Lupin felt his legs weaken. "We'll stop just up ahead…" the graying man choked out, "don't worry about it."
"You're impressing me." Sirius whispered, taking his arm back and straightening Remus. "I was certain you would be out of your mind now based upon all the other things that have happened to you this spell."
"What can I say? You're a good luck charm." They began to move again, further into the darkness of trunks. Black smiled in the statement, but knew it was a dumb one. There was nothing lucky about harboring a potential murderer and taking him on a midnight stroll.
Just as it seemed that they had come to hobble into the very thick of the wood did light break in fine lines between the trunks. A small clearing, too insignificant to be considered a field, broke the pattern of the trees.
It was a wreck.
Small shrubs that attempted to grow in this clearing had been mutilated into broken masses of twigs. Long scores of earth had been torn up and it looked as though one tree had been felled and processed into woodchips. Letting his eyes wander to the trees they walked slowly by, Black saw the gruesome scrapes each tree harbored in its bark.
"You've been here before."
Remus laughed, or attempted to and simply wheezed. "This is my place. My madness." His free hand came out to gesture to it and Sirius could see how the limb shook. "I come here for my monthly terrors."
The tremor threatened the graying man's legs more and he tottered into Black awkwardly. With a lighthearted chuckle, Sirius wound his arm around Remus, despite the quake his body reacted with at the touch. Walking was getting harder for him now that the session was so near.
Into the clearing they staggered, close together in their almost comical walk. The werewolf breathed harder than he had been, body wound up like a sinister rubber band and just as ready to snap. Sirius's touch felt raw on him and irritable, as if his skin could not take it. When they came near a spot of relatively open grass, Remus pushed himself away and fell slowly down to settle on the turf, relieved by its cool comfort.
Black followed suit, but not as near as he had been. A cautious measure.
There they sat, apart from each other, yet facing, letting their heavy breaths cloud out before them, misted and warm in the chilled air. Their smooth puffs wafted out uncertainly between them, slowly depleting into the night, yet forming one fog of breath.
Such a thing, such a stupid, common thing, struck the two of them and they watched their breaths, watched the frequency of them slow, watched their companion calm from their tension and took comfort in that.
"Are you nervous?"
Black looked up into those fading irises, seeing them to be slightly glazed. "Are you?"
Remus shuddered for a second and pressed his lips in a fine line. "Yes," he replied, drawing his knees in and hugging them, needing warmth, "I am very nervous, but for your safety."
"I've done this before."
The werewolf shut his eyes; they had begun to water again. "Not like this you haven't. You don't know how this will end…"
"I'll be alright," he persisted, "as long as I am able to aide you."
"Sirius…" the voice was raspy, struggling. Black jumped, expecting the words to follow to be the signal he needed to shape-shift. They weren't. "If I… when I turn on you as the wolf. I want you to run very fast. Do you understand?"
"Only if you chase me."
A laugh turned to a dry heave and Sirius winced at it. There was a sickly green color on Remus's face and the man looked blindly across at him. "Are the clouds clearing up on the horizon?"
Sirius understood in an instant; the moon was already out, merely lidded by the clouds. This fact scared him and with a sudden urgency the convict looked up. There, on the horizon, was a break in the tremendous gray that was the autumn's weather. "Yes… there is."
"You might want to get Padfoot out then." Remus was lifting himself up on his knees and shouldering his robes off, despite the cold. The man was always very irritated whenever he tore his clothing in transformations, even if it was frigid out.
There was no question asked and after a mere second of contortion, a black dog sat before him, shaggy and wide-eyed. It was a sadder sight than the normally happy, lolling look that Padfoot had about him, but this was a grave situation.
The last dying light before nightfall was complete and dusk dead, Remus's skin gleamed like a corpse's, wan and crisscrossed. The man shook uncontrollably as he pulled off the last of his clothing, leaving a pair of old, fairly beaten slacks on for modesty, as only Lupin would.
Sirius hated how his friend shook in the cold, hated the look of his sickened body. Why had it always been Remus? The dog wanted so badly to go to him, to let the man bury himself in his warm fur and sink into a peaceful state. But that couldn't happen. He knew that he shouldn't touch him, for the smell of the animal was rising fast in him, and no creature, man or beast, would dare to disturb it.
The sky moved above them like molasses, and they awaited that first ray of light that would end their peace. Remus was gasping for breath now, ragged and awful, almost sounding like weeping. Padfoot shifted from one foot to the other, watching it all in fear.
The fear pressed the sound out of him, forced the whine to pierce his throat. Blinded eyes sought him in response and one hand, shaking and icy, held itself out.
"I have seconds. Only seconds." The words were hard and Remus seemed to have trouble articulating. "Come here… please."
Without question, he did.
One last cloud was against the darkened sky, smeared across the velvet expanse, looking like a streak of blood. The moon that illuminated the mist hid broodingly behind it, refusing to show its face so low on the horizon. It was amazing that the sun had fled so fast, leaving the sky alone and cold. No stars glittered just yet and the only other dot of light in the void was the pinpoint of Venus.
Trembling hands ran their way over the crest of Padfoot's head, seeking to comfort themselves on the velvety fur. The dog fought himself free of the grip, surprising the man that knelt before it. Instead of pushing away, the animal fitted his large head in the nook of the ragged man's neck, wanting those thin and abused arms to wrap around him in a hug. The man did, burying himself into the patchy black fur, trying had to calm the quaking of his body.
"Whatever happens tonight…" Remus whispered to the dog, shutting his eyes tight as his mind wheeled and blacked. The next time he saw light, it would be the moon's, "whatever I do… know that…" He choked as the wind shifted… only a veil hid her venomous gaze now. Breathing was harder, but an old endurance forced the words from him, "… know that I…" The grip on the sable fur tighten painfully as he struggled, both his mutating body and frigid, mistrusting mind fighting against it. In the end, even they weren't enough. "… Know that I trust you, Sirius."
Remus pushed the dog away with all of his might, making the animagus stumble back. Padfoot's dark eyes widened in shock, both at the minor utterance and the action afterward. After only a second of observation, he became very aware as to why…
It was happening.
Luna had found them.
So fast… it had always happened so fast in school. One moment Remus would be there, ragged and restless, and then the next… a haggard werewolf in the boy's robes.
This was not the same thing. Sirius's mind raced back to that fateful letter he had received… what, only a week ago? It seemed like so much longer. Ages. Those words he had read stuck to his memory as he saw the truth of them now, bent double before him.
-my body seems to refuse to transform…-
That was exactly what was happening to the man before him. Two parts of a whole twisted angrily in their one, fighting against each other. Remus groaned heavily as he pressed his forehead to the ground, clutching his stomach as if trying to hold his shifting ribs in place. They cracked under his grasping palms, jerking so violently that all of his body followed in response, throwing him onto his side.
From that position Padfoot could see the pupil-less amber eyes that stared from an agape face. Teeth had lengthened in the gasping mouth that expelled an animalistic growl of pain, not yet wailing, but on the verge.
Thinned legs kicked desperately, the small, newly formed claws on already bare feet caught in the soil and drew long scores in the ground. Those feet cracked sickeningly as they tried to lengthen out, attempting to form the heavy paws that would support the monster.
The half-man lurched onto his back to stare up at the source of his torment. As the light of her struck his face, a contorted spine arched upward sharply, throwing his heavy head back. The human began to fight, flattening the muzzled head and compacting the torso back into the original shape.
As it jerked at the drastic shifting, something else seemed to plague the transforming beast more than the disconnecting of its own bones. In a sudden spell of spastic thrashing, the figure rolled back onto its stomach, clawed hands tearing at its flesh roughly.
A sound boomed from his throat, seething and pained; a tortured whine. The beast writhed as if something was swarming it, clawing over its skin in prickling torrents. As the werewolf thrashed, the lichen blood took over the half form that had developed and finished off the job the moon commanded.
The fit continued, the body lengthened, the face grew sharp, ears pointed upright, hair bristled out in rolls of slick grey-tinted fur and a tail uncoiled itself from the base of the ridged spine. Only when the last bone had shifted into place did the crazed spasm cease.
The wolf that was hunched before him now was unlike the Moony of the past. It was thinner, grayer… older. Not only that, but the shape of him had changed some. He was smaller and weaker looking.
It was not hard to see that the image of weakness was a lie. What it lacked in body could be made up for in ferocity. Padfoot waited, poised and slightly terrified, for the lidded amber of the werewolf's eyes to turn on him.
The nose caught him first, picking the strong scent of dog and fear out on the now stagnant air. A heavy, lolling head lifted itself awkwardly, weaving a little on the ridged neck as it observed the source of the stench.
Tawny hunger shone through the night, illuminated in those monster eyes. Jagged rows of yellowed teeth gleamed sickeningly in a crimson mouth and a ragged, putrid breath spilled out from it. Padfoot did not want to be near this thing. He did not want to see this thing.
It couldn't be Remus.
The hulked shape lurched itself forward like a drunken tiger, tripping over its own massive feet as if it were wearing snowshoes. The dog backed away quickly, but not enough as the enormous hulk bowled him sideways, gaining enough composure back to knock the smaller ground-ward. Padfoot rolled himself up and away, surprising in his swiftness. The animal part of Sirius was begging to run from this thing; frightened of the war in the amber eyes and the dangerous smell of the thing's flesh. The man in him was hardly disagreeing.
There was a scent so terrifying to the dog on this beast that his heart, deep within him, beat like a hummingbird's. Countless hairs stuck oddly on his back and the nape of his neck, strung up by the mood in the night. Now away from the werewolf's strike, the dog poised himself, ready to dash away from any other hostile movement. Yet, Padfoot knew that a confrontation was necessary… it had always been. Every time the dog had met the wolf a fight would break out until one asserted themselves over the other or a mutual respect was struck between them.
But now, with the nature he saw and the wild savagery in the wolf's eyes, Padfoot would do anything not to confront it. Bow to it, yes. Grovel at its massive paws, definitely… but the werewolf did not look as though it wished to strike a treaty. It looked as if it wanted to strike his throat.
So he did exactly what Remus told him he had to do… he ran.
Blood pounded like a drum in his animal heart. Keen senses spiked above their norm, making the entire claret-tinted world around him sharp. With his speed it seemed to be spinning, the bare trunks and skeletal branches flashing in and out of his night-sighted eyes. The air was jagged to inhale through his nose, for the cold of it stung his nostrils and for that reason he parted his mouth and gasped it in.
One paw caught itself on a root and he stumbled in a panic of limbs. Behind him, there was a scoff of triumph, but the dog would not stop, despite the slight pain in the stubbed toes. There was pain in the other as well, still running like a lurching beast, clumsy with its sinewy bulk.
There was a small rivulet of water running into a gouge and over it the black stray leapt, clearing himself to the other side. The dog paused for a moment to look behind, to see if the shape was still there. It was, and its legs bowed in preparation for the bound over. Padfoot began to flee again, only to be knocked off balance.
Werewolves had tremendously strong back legs. He had underestimated the distance that Moony could jump. Jaws snapped at him when he finally rolled and righted himself, the amber eyes flashing and froth flying. The beast heaved in exhaustion; they had been at chase for near an hour.
Padfoot did not wait for it to get over the shock of catching its small, black prey and took off once more. The wolf gave a great moan of a growl and jerkingly gave pursuit.
The dog was good at this. He was an elusive target and the wolf was wonderfully persistent. Moony always had been. Whenever the prey lost track of his hunter he would call out with his canine voice and draw the monster in again. It was a dangerous game and both beings in him knew it; if the wolf caught him, if the wolf bit him… it would be the end of his human life. In such a state that Moony was in now, Padfoot doubted that he would stop with just one good sinking of his teeth.
Flashes of white passed over his scruffy form, the broken light of Luna herself. She was blood-colored and gravid in the sky, higher now and lurking. All the night was lit by her and the clouds that once laced her head had disappeared. The eclipse was in effect… soon it would be the Earth that would darken her face.
It took a moment for Padfoot to realize that the rhythmical falling of his paws were the only sound. There was no heavy patter behind him, no accompanying animal. The dog whirled about, dark eyes searching, nose alert. No werewolf.
A slight fear ruptured in him and he threw back his head and called for it, the note quivering and smaller than his hunter's. No reply came.
The man in him cursed fluently and the roles become reversed. Padfoot must hunt out the predator, for with Moony away from him, there was no telling what could happen or where the returned Remus could end up. He changed his direction, heading back to the pith of the forest and their starting point. He had run the wolf in circles around it, perhaps Moony merely decided to go back.
There were several fallen trees in this area, as if a windstorm had taken to playing ninepins. Over the slender, rotting trunks the dog leapt, his thin form odd and shadowed in the night. He was too thin, in reality, and after running for so long, his body was in torment.
Had this been what Remus had meant by helping him; keeping watch over the wolf during the night? In his older age it seemed much more taxing a task than it had been when they were young. Then again, the young Moony had also been a little less aggressive and not as intent to kill them. Black remembered how the two canines would romp and wrestle, friendly to a point. How jealous the others had been…
A painful bout of nostalgia struck him and he hated it. It was hard to recount precise memories, for Azkaban had chilled the warmest of them from his mind and locked them deep inside. So deep, that even he was unable to find them. He longed for them, longed to remember exact nights, exact instances of joy and happiness with his friends. He wanted to look upon them now, in times of trouble and dark, and be soothed.
At first, he thought the stag was merely in his own mind, something he had recovered from the ruin of his memory and let float in front of his vision in the clearing in front of him. It looked up at his blackish shape, slender head straight with perked ears and branching horns gracefully arching out from it. An exact version of Prongs. He regarded it dreamily, but realized, with a tired feeling, that this was merely a deer. It stamped its sharp hoof at him in warning, but looked as if it did not plan to run. Padfoot was not a very threatening figure, being so weepy-framed and fatigued.
But, what was crouched behind the stag was.
Tawny eyes glimmered in hot excitement from the opposite side of the clearing to the animal's flank. This prey was larger, meatier than the small shadow he had been after. It was dumber as well; a blunt and natural thing with blood and flesh and bone… Whetted jaws gaped in hungry desire and the werewolf's body could take it no more.
With a yowl that shredded the night's air, the lanky beast heaved forward, jowls wide and claws bore. In blind panic the stag leapt, graceful legs suddenly wild and lost as it tried to flee from the monstrous thing bearing down upon it. A grim and macabre satisfaction rose in the wolf as it came within striking distance of its prey, but there came a problem hard and heavy into his ribcage.
Padfoot did not know how he was able to put that much power behind his hit, but he did know that there was a glaze over his eyes and a foam at his lips when he did so. Moony was not going to do this; Moony would not kill a stag in front of him.
There was a harsh crunch as his vertebra popped under the impact and the two shapes bowled over each other and tumbled into the shrubbery. The drumming of the fleeing stag could not be heard over the bustle of their furred limbs and gasping snarls. The werewolf was confused, knocked off of his hunt and now upside down in a bush with something pinning him. When the other animal came into his sight, he did the only thing he found natural.
A crack of teeth caused Sirius to scramble off of his downed predator, fearful for the lethal bite of it. The wolf teetered as it stood, shaking its heavy head in effort to clear the muddle of its psyche. His prey was gone… and the one responsible for that was bristling in front of him.
Padfoot was frightened, a mad sort of rabid frightened that stiffened his forelegs and raised his hackles. For some reason, he couldn't run any longer.
They crashed with a yip and snarl, two emaciated canines in a wild rage. Tired legs pushed them forward and jaws snapped at the air nearest to the other's face. The werewolf was the larger, no contest, and the fact that its body was built in an anthropoid fashion allowed it to stand in a hunching way over the other. Two rake-like paws threw the shadowed dog several feet and he loomed up in the moonlight, skeletal and mangy, looking a ghoulish nightmare.
Sirius tried to right himself, but one shoulder hurt from the tackle he preformed and it wouldn't strengthen itself. Ebony irises widened as the werewolf gaped, fangs shining in a rusted mouth.
However, no hit would come. Instead of falling down to tear at the smaller, the werewolf reeled in what looked to be shock. The upright body fell sideways and down onto all spindly fours again as the lunar animal shook itself madly, as if covered with something… something that wouldn't come off.
Predatory eyes dulled and it contorted, giving way to a seizure. Did the werewolf form of Remus undergo the same symptoms of the man? Saliva dripped from its mouth, and it thrashed wildly, making a strangled noise as it tried to flee.
Black followed it for the few steps that it got, but Moony would not go far. The lanky beast collapsed onto his side and writhed like a desert sidewinder, voice broken and in pain. A back leg came up to scratch at the ruff of his neck, scraping with such pressure that blood darkened the shagged fur. He twisted as if his skin was being eaten by some unseen insect. Padfoot ventured near and almost contemplated an attempt to assist when the reek of the werewolf caught him.
Something deeper than human shrunk away at it, like an animal does to wounds and death. This stink rising off the wolf was the plague… slinking and lethal. It was not the smell of the animal himself either, but something fouler… something…
The next cry that issued was more shill than all the others and Padfoot's hair rose all down his spine. What was happening to him?
When the body began to change, Sirius yipped in surprise. Bones cracked noisily at the werewolf's body twisted, shaping itself into something else, something smaller. A man could be seen in the shape again, for the voice changed pitch and the face flattened. Padfoot stared as human and lycan shapes fought for dominance in a weakened body, and in the end… nature came and beat both out.
The new shape shivered before him, less mangy and more skeletal than the first animal that had appeared. Its nose was longer, ears larger and legs more like his own. Moony lay there before him in the body of a pure wolf.
The Wolfsbane... The medication had taken half the night to work its way up past the roiling blood of an ill werewolf. Moony whimpered, more to himself than anything, and took a good while to stand upright. He was sagging and tired… so much smaller than the lycanthropic body he until now possessed.
Remus looked weak. There was no glinting amber in these eyes, only a yellow-tinted silver. What little fur he had was not lustrous and attractive, but patchy and dirt-ridden. Padfoot advanced meekly, wagging a careful welcome to the docile version of the full-moon Remus.
The wolf turned to him, looking frightened, and flattened his ears. Yet, Moony would not flee him; Remus himself was never like that. Remus never ran away. He was miraculously brave… he was the strongest.
There came a small huffing from the wolf as it took in Padfoot's scent and accepted it. The smell of the wolf was still heavily tainted, and even though the dog feared it, he would not allow himself to be repulsed.
It was alarming when Moony's brown muzzle brushed his own in a nameless gesture and two wretched canines wagged their scruffy tails in acknowledgement. Then, without much warning, the wolf turned and began to limp off into the bowels of the shadowed woods. Padfoot hesitated behind.
There came a sequin-like flash as the animal looked back, expectant of him and Lupin's voice echoed in the still, crisp night air.
"…know that I trust you."
Remus Lupin trusted Sirius to help him, trusted him to protect him, trusted him to befriend him… and now, he trusted him not to leave him alone in the torture of the night.
Sirius glanced up to the fully eclipsed moon and realized that it was not the curse they looked to, but a blessing. The shadow on it had calmed Remus into the placid wolf state, and would keep him there as long as it lasted. His ribs contracted as he sighed, for that would not be long.
The time they had before madness came again must be savored, so, with a yip of kindness to the other, the dog bounded in friendly pursuit.
There was the strong taste of rust in his mouth and the unpleasantness of it startled him into waking. It was sour and hot on his tongue, and in response to it, the man choked.
The taste was forgotten in a second's time as his other senses roused from his motion. Pain lanced through like a white strike, glancing off the back of his head and shooting its way down his spine. There was an open wound on his chest, he smelled it, and another on his cheek, for it was sticky with blood. A line of it drew across his lips; the source of the foul taste.
He was listless and brittle in the tart morning air, yet he was also one to endure it with no notice. With a trembling arm scattered with the tiniest lacerations, the man pushed himself onto his back, rolling nosily on the ground and crushing some small sprig into the middle of his shoulder.
Remus Lupin looked up at the awoken world with eyes of hazed gray and a mouth of wounded red. His sight was always the last thing to come about. It, unlike his other senses, did not sharpen the morning after.
They did, however, find the distinct shadow above them familiar.
He could not work his vocal cords just yet, for they were so stretched from the night that they would take a while to tighten once again, but there was no need for it. The one above him knew what was to be done and did it like in old memories.
Sirius Black knelt next to his tattered friend's side and wrapped his quivering body in a robe. Arms, tired but determined, rooted under the downed man's shoulders and slowly lifted him. Standing, he took the other's arms, draped them over his sharp-angled shoulders and lifted him onto his back. The wolf embraced him trustingly, and with face set and cargo secure, Sirius began to retrace their beginning path.
Remus buried his torn face in the raspy folds of cloth and shaggy hair covering his friend's neck. He hid his eyes from the golden light of morning, preferring the sweated darkness of his companion. Knowing that he was safe in this embrace, Lupin let his corded muscles relax and let all of his weight, all of his need fall onto Sirius, aware that he would now and forever be trusted to do the same in return.
Their newest contract was signed in the aftermath of horror and they would uphold it now for the rest of their years.
And thus, in blood and tragedy, the convict and the werewolf knew their friendship.
TBC
I am unforgivable. To tell you the truth, I haven't been writing this at all these past… several months. All of my writing has been honed to original fiction. I'm doing that terrible transition to originality. I suppose a little fanfiction might come out now and then, but all in all… you'll be lucky if I finish this at all.
In case you were wondering why? I have no clue how to end it.
The Straying Feather Duster
Green Bird
