Blood sprinkled the snow. That scintillating scent and coppery taste hung in the air. More blood peppered the white ground. Flakes descended from the steel grey sky in a slow, unhurried dance. A scream and a whimper pierced the air, between the sounds of low growling. A snatcher approached a young whimpering girl on the ground. Her parents lay in crumpled, bloody heaps near her. Her father was still, forever. Wide eyes stared up at nothing. The mother let loose another wail and gripped his lifeless body, holding the sides of his face. The snatcher grabbed the young girl and yanked her back, preparing to give her to Greyback to be turned. His mouth was soaked in gore, dripping down his neck onto his shirt and jacket. He stared motionless at the bodies before him. The woman shrieked and flew from the ground in the attempt to retrieve her daughter.

The little girl screamed and kicked out at the snatcher who held her. Scabior glanced over his shoulder, on alert for any aurors that might have heard the commotion.

"Give her to Greyback. We'll turn her." He ordered. The little girl was barely ten years old. Plenty young to start twisting her mind against the world of wizards. Her family had betrayed their blood. The Dark Lord ordered these traitors to death.

Greyback took another deep whiff of the air, holding that scent of fear and blood in. This sensation drove his baser nature wild, needing more, and more, and more until he was mad with sick desire. Sometimes he found it difficult to return back to himself. He often lost himself to the beast within. The fresh blood pooled around the man, mixing with the fragrance of human sweat. Greyback shuddered in pleasure. But his smile faulted. Nothing here brought him that same exact, indescribable feeling as he got when he first tasted that pale, arrogant blond boy. The only one that had gotten so far lodged inside his mind he couldn't shake it. Even now, the scents and tastes here fell horribly short compared to him. Greyback's tongue flicked out to wet his lips, recalling those memories and holding them close, remembering intimately how it felt to pin him down underneath him.

As the woman ran ungainly toward Greyback with an anguished shriek, a sudden surge of rage spilled through his veins. With a savage roar, he threw out a lethal clawed hand. The woman stumbled in panic as he did, frozen in terror. Sharp, hard nails connected brutally to her face, shredding the flesh from her cheeks, gouging an eye in the process. It slipped from the socket, connected only by a thin string of muscle. Snarling in an inexplicable rage, Greyback shot forward and grabbed the side of her neck and face in his teeth, locking his jaw hard enough to hear the crunch of her vertebrae. Like a violent creature built for destruction, he yanked his head around with great force. A few wild shakes had her head snap and sever from her body.

Greyback threw it down on the ground. Snarling viciously, blood coating his whole face. The little girl, who had watched everything screamed at a pitch so intense and irritating, Greyback nearly launched forward and smash her to death to silence it. The little girl paled and her eyes rolled back, going slack in Scabior's arms.

"Bloody hell…" Scabior whispered, backing away. He'd seen the werewolf at his vilest. Tonight, he exceeded that tenfold. Greyback's eyes slid upwards toward the sky. Somewhere high above, the moon was almost full. But not yet. He closed his eyes, envisioning the root of this obsession that had tormented him.

It's time.

Without warning, he apparated away. Leaving the snatchers and Scabior to deal with his gory aftermath and petrified trembling.

…

Draco lay in his bed. He cracked open a book he'd borrow from his father's study. Greyback hadn't returned in weeks. Draco decided his bed would be his safe haven once more. After their last encounter, bravery, and boldness thickened. The odd, weakness Greyback let slip held in his mind. There was a wall to break down. A crack had appeared. He would refuse to play the sick, sad little rabbit in Greyback's game. He would use his wand next time he appeared uninvited upon their domain.

Snow fell from the sky as the afternoon droned on. He'd finished eating lunch with his mother and father in the kitchen. Bellatrix had pranced in midway through. Although the mood had been dark to begin with, she managed to worsen it. His father had told his mother what he'd seen months earlier. Greyback perched over their son, his face dangerously close to his neck. Both urged him to talk about it. He shook his head and remained silent. His parents had suffered enough shame and misery. He would take his share of the pain. No matter how much it hurt or terrified him.

When he had left the kitchen to return to his bedroom, his aunt caught him in the hall with an eerie little smile on her face. She teased him about being a dog's pet. The not too subtle jab had pierced Draco like a small thin needle. His face remained impassive as she leered at him, walking back to his bedroom. If she knew about it, how many others knew? That Draco was the werewolf's play toy?

There was a sound at Draco's window. His body tensed and he raised his wand up from beside his leg, letting the book fall, discarded. A huge, dark shape appeared at the window, unlocking it quickly and then bolting for Draco's bed. Blood was smeared all over his face and there was a wild glint in his eyes and no smile that froze his blood in his veins. The scream he wanted caught in his throat, the only sound he was capable of was a weak cry. Clawed hands grabbed his arms and yanked him out of bed and into his grip. Spinning around to the window, he ran and leapt out, plummeting to the ground. Another cry loosed from Draco's lips as the ground flew up to greet him.

"What are you doing?!" Draco cried in terror, gripping his wand hard enough to snap the wood in half. Greyback bounded for the edge of the forest, panting hard, determination glossing his eyes over. Horror rose up in Draco, paralyzing him. Greyback was going to apparate away with him. Then, he said,

"It's time."

…

Greyback heaved Draco off of him onto the cold, snow covered ground. Draco scrambled to his feet, grateful he'd worn socks to bed. But quickly, his warm feet melted the thin frozen flakes, soaking through. His shivered hard, teeth chattering as he only wore bed pants and a shirt.

"What have you done?" Draco's hollow voice shook as he reeled away. His grip on the wand trembled as he pointed in the werewolf's direction.

Greyback stared at him, lips parted. That stare he was giving Draco…Everything about it, he hated. It was as if the werewolf's eyes were shredding him, peeling layer after layer away so that his soul could be violently violated until nothing was left.

With one hand, Draco rubbed it up and down his arm, trying to generate any warmth he could. A hot cloud of mist emanated from his mouth.

"Run from me. Now." Greyback's low voice ordered. "Tonight…I will hunt you." His foot pivoted away and he turned to circle Draco, his pace a methodical saunter. A predator stalking prey.

The world was already losing light fast. Staggering backwards, Draco absorbed his surroundings. This place held no meaning to him. All the trees and even the lake looked the same as everywhere else on this forsaken dirt ball. He stumbled away from Greyback, still shivering like mad. With a gasp, he turned around and darted away into the woods, seeking cover.

Greyback watched as he ran haphazardly away. His scent caught in the air. His eyes closed, waiting for the boy to get far enough away before pursuing him. That delectable scent would easily lead him back to what he desired. He paced around in the snow, kicking up the light dusting that had fallen here. Bringing Draco here at near nightfall wasn't particularly fair. He could see in the dark. The boy could not. Unfortunately for him, Greyback had enough of waiting. That craving for a taste had won out. Tipping his head up, he winded the scent, hard and deep and prepared to hunt.