One of my fantasies, clumsily made into a short story. Let me know if you managed to read it all, you are my heroes. Love ya.

Dogs and Wolves

The house echoed with loneliness. The walls were closing on him, making him feel imprisoned. Safe but imprisoned. He slowly moved from room to room, searching for an activity to keep him from falling asleep. Tired as he was, but he always kept his duties done. And this night it was his duty to guard the bleak house of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. This was the kind of task he was given these days. Like if no one trusted him anymore to be capable of doing some real work. Should he blame them for it ? He looked exactly as he felt, weak to death, eaten by life.

Some members of the Order were escorting four officers of the Ministry of Magic to the secret gathering. He could not even remember the purpose of that, he was not feeling well on the meeting. When he learned that it was another routine task he will not attend, disappointment crept from the back of his mind. And shame. Mostly shame. Some of the members meant it well, thinking that the rest will do him good. But he hated to be taken as a weakest wheel in the machine. He could see the pity in their eyes. Others meant it not so well. From their eyes he could read something more dangerous than the pity.

It was written on the walls. The air he was breathing was poisoned with it. His heartbeat was singing about it in their companion.

He was being despised.

The purpose of his guard was that in a case of danger, a Portkey has been planted to take the members of the Order and Ministry officers safely to the headquarters. It was just one of the escape ways, one of the options, and he was there to do what ? A welcome party ?

It was one o'clock in the night, and his mood was bitter. No one will come, and he sits there in vain, accomplishing his vain task. Of course he had no right to feel this way, he kept telling to himself, in his state he should be grateful for anything they offer him. Maybe it was him who despised himself the most… his mind was buried in these thoughts when the terrible noise brought him back to presence. Suddenly, he knew, he was alone no more. But then there was quiet.

His legs were shaking when he rose from the chair and pull out his wand. Sudden realization had stroke him and he felt that something bad is about to happen. Or already happened. If he was to face the whatever enemy this night, he would be defeated. In this state of mind, in this state of body, somewhere deep he wanted to be crushed and beaten. He did not linger on life so much to find the power to fight.

But still there was quiet.

The Portkey was supposed to take his travelers to the hall. He headed there, lighting every light as he crept. He took the last turn and there it was, something, or someone, lying in the room that was empty before. Out of surprise, he took one step back and his heart raced in dread. But still, everything was quiet. Slowly, he dared to come closer to the collapsed figure. He did not remember being such a coward. Every part of the lying body was covered in black, but he could not see clear. Approaching, he recognized the details on the persons clothing. It was the uniform of the Aurors, now heavily damaged. His heart bounced, because the Aurors were never to back off and leave others they protected behind. But this one was alone, seriously injured, possibly dead. The scent of blood and sweat and fear was present, the clothing torn on many places and burned on the calves and chest. Naked skin showed here and there, seemed touched with fire. By the subtle curves and angles of the body he came to a conclusion that it was a woman. She had trouble breathing and when she turned her head to face him, he saw two shiny and determined eyes staring at him, eyebrows frowned in pain as she fought with her own body. He recognized the face at last, she was one of the Aurors that only guarded high officers. It was the first time he got this close to the member of the guard, they were but a silent strong statues for him, without a concrete personality, following the Ministry officers like a trained dogs.

"Help me," whispered the dog.

His sense of compassion brought him to his knees instantly, his eyes examining the figure but hands still afraid to touch the untouchable. Will the wounded dog bite, if he dares to touch it ? At the movement of his gentle hands she put her hand in front of her chest in an angry protective gesture. But then she seemed to reconsider. She laid on her back, exposing all damage done to her.

"Don't stare at me and help me take these clothes off," she commanded.

She started to undo her cloak, clumsily, using only one hand. He assisted her carefully. Her face was maybe once girly and soft, but now somewhat cruelled and weather-worn, twisted in concentration. Her hair was reduced to a short military-like crop, shaved round the ears. They proceeded with the shoes and then he examined the burned skin on her legs. The fabric was melted into the tissue and he realized how much this must hurt. But she was quiet.

He was still in doubt to ask what has happened. Will the proud soldier-like woman even talk to him ? Does she know who he is, that he is that infected outcast, will she protest if he tries to take care of her ? She was halfway to pulling off her pants, unnoticing his hesitation. She kicked them away finally, with teeth clenched in pain, and this was the time Remus realized she was going to strip before him, just like that.

He must have been looking really confused, because she only shook her head and muttered: "You are fucking useless. You think I care that you see me? Did I accidentally appear in the monastery or what ? Now stop playing Virgin Mary and get me out of this. You think I am having fun ?"

Her uniform had buttons all the way down from the neck, and the fingers of her right hand was in the very weird position. Operating with only left hand, the task of undressing made her furious. Also her wand was nowhere to be seen. Remus began to unbutton the vest solemnly and with care, like if he was treating a China doll. She was a woman after all, and her scent and naked skin made him feel dizzy. A woman was something saint to him, something he does not have a right to. Her body was strong and animal-like, ripped and heavily tattooed. He recognized some runes on her arms and from her chest the giant head of a deer was staring at him, covering her from collarbones to under her breasts. There was a writing on the antlers - As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I should fear no evil. That made the chill run up his spine.

Sitting there in the underwear only, she snapped: "Escort me to the bathroom." But with the anger calming down, she was now more troubled and exhausted. The dirt and blood mixed on her skin but he gently wrapped his arms around her and helped her to get up. She put almost all her bodyweight on him, struggling in pain, and then there were her tears falling on the floor. But she was quiet. She did not hide them, she plainly ignored them, stubbornly marching where Remus was taking her.

At the bathroom, she gestured to the bathtub. Remus was afraid that she will get angry again, so he immediately sat her on the laundry basket and started filling the tub with hot water.

"You bath in your underwear?"

She was looking in his eyes almost mockingly as he took off her bra and panties, hands trembling uncontrollably. He tried to look away when she was fully naked before him, hiding his nervosity. Fixing his eyes on the bathtub, he helped her to get inside. The water turned dark red on instant. He stood there above her, looking everywhere else.

"Don't you dare leaving me here alone. Clean my wounds."

The ugly burnings on her legs got even uglier when wet, and he gently washed them and removed the pieces of black fabric left. She bent her head backwards, rested it on the edge of the tub and closed her eyes, letting him to proceed with his work. He felt like an unimportant servant, because she didn't even bother to explain to him what has happened. It was the house of his Order, not hers, and yet she was commanding him like a worm. The most severe wound was under her breasts, and as he tried to shift his attention there, his eyes caught the sight of her vagina. The overwhelming rush had filled him and he tried his best to control himself, but his body has already responded with arousal. The muscles on his arms and legs tensed as his eyes feasted on her breasts, and he dreaded what would happen if she opened her eyes and saw his longing for her body. With his head spinning he began to clean the wound on her chest, his nerves exploding every time he accidentally brushed his fingers upon her breasts. She was still and careless to both pain and him. She moved only to sink herself fully, to wash her face and hair.

"Your friends had come round to visit," she finally announced. Before he could ask her what friends should it be, she continued bitterly: "I am not willing to die because someone has a tea party in the wrong place and the wrong time. I was trained for a war and I ended up guarding asses of the cowards and fighting filthy rebels in the pits. Your strategy of hiding is absurd, I doubt you even have a strategy at all. But never mind, it only got everyone killed tonight. Your friends already knew about us when we got there, outnumbering us three to one… Didn't even bother to asks questions, interrogate us or something, they have come to slay us. Fenrir let me escape only to let his message of terror be spread, only to let people know what happened in there. Well, fuck his message. And fuck the Order and fuck the Ministry, too. I will not die by the hands of some deformed overgrown bastard, just because I can't even take a shit without someone ordering it. With us in charge, things like these would never happen. With me in charge…", her voice died away, she waved her hand in resignation.

Remus felt sick, because she knew very well who he was, and she just referred to his worst enemy as to his mate. His friends came to visit. The world will feel even less about him now, when his kin starts to go on a slaying sprees for no reason. Was all his work with werewolves worth nothing ? Will the darkness prevail ?

She was finally paying some attention to him, staring at him blankly.

"You gonna cry?"

"They will hate me… everybody will hate me now. I am one of them…," he felt ashamed, breaking down before the naked woman, but sudden self-hate was too hard for him to bear.

She raised one eyebrow and continued her numb staring. "They hate you already. They will hate me too, chase me possibly, for now I am a traitor and a deserter. Fuck them. I am not coming back, let them animals do their murdering without me. Now help me out and fetch some clothes for me, I will sleep here tonight. On the morning you don't have to bother with me anymore, I will be gone. Until then you won't tell anyone what happened. Show me a room where I can sleep and go feel sorry for yourself somewhere else."

When he was staying at the Grimmauld Place, he slept in the room that used to belong to Sirius. It always brought comfort and peace to him, he felt like he was a teenager again. He could pretend for a while that none of the horrors in his life had happened. It didn't work this night. The Auror decided to sleep on the couch in the living room. He showed her the old bedrooms, but she found them creepy and full of presence of the dead people. In the morning, he will have to face the consequences of this night, explaining how his "friends" came to be killing and hating monsters. Explaining how he would never do anything like this, that he is not a wolf, but mere a puppy that will wash your feet when you appear unexpected in it's den. With the Auror gone, he could even lie and keep these events to himself. But soon there will be another murdering, and then another afterwards. Maybe his kin was really not meant to live in the society of human beings.

He opened his eyes and realized that he must have somehow managed to fall asleep. But now he was wide awake again. He felt strange unrest, and when he turned to face the room, he saw a figure standing in the room, two meters from him by the door, staring. His heart felt like grasped in a fist, and he asked: "What do you want?" He wanted no more harassing from the ex-guard woman, he already felt helpless enough.

"Dharma."

"What?"

"My name is Dharma."

She approached him and her weakness was all gone, she was moving like a panther. He froze in his bed, terror rose in his mind. Is she going to punish him for the crimes of his kin ? Is she that cruel and careless ? Now she had nothing to lose, and he was there as an only witness who could say that she had survived and fled. And he was a werewolf. No one will blame you for killing a werewolf. Many will praise you.

She sat on the edge of his bed. He did not intend to fight her, for he hoped she would have mercy with him. He closed his eyes and hugged himself hard, fear tying his body, he could not move. Breathing deeply, she took his wrists in her hands and removed them from his chest, placing them back on the bed. He opened his eyes and saw her looking at him strangely, as if exploring him and his reactions. For a while, she only held his wrists and observed his face and his body.

"Shhh...," her face was deadly serious.

Then she let go, and explored his body with her hands instead. She touched his chin and turned his head a little bit to the side, as if she didn't want to be disturbed by him looking. He turned away obediently and closed his eyes again, hoping it to be over soon. He felt a touch of her fingers on his jaw, she opened his shirt a little and touched his neck and collarbones, lightly as an air. She tried to open his shirt even more, and a feeling of anticipation ran through him. He didn't want her to see his scars and his ugly starved body. When he tried to stop her hands, she took his wrists in one hand only and put them above his head. Remus was weak as a child compared to her, and suddenly she was sitting on him, her eyes gleaming in the dark. He gave up and she opened his shirt in a rough way, exposing him. Her touches hardened then, and he felt her powerful hands on the meat of his hips. He pretended to be calm, hoping she will calm down too.

The sight of a woman sitting on the area of his manhood made him feel a strange sensation in his head. A tingling in his penis was spreading and his mind was giving up the control. His body wanted to be a toy for this woman, yearned for it, for the salvation of her touch. To hide in her embrace, to become nothing and only absorb all the gifts from her. His body, never touched, felt as a ship that finally reached the harbor. He didn't care anymore who she was, because she has given him acceptance. Strange, rough and unexpected, but good enough for his body.

And then the sensation came.

Warm as a welcoming fire, wrapped around him in tight embrace, the feeling of the soft flesh, the feeling of the inside... at this point he could not say where he ends and the Woman begins. The sensation, the pleasure rose from the center down there and presumed to pulse through his existence, coming out of his mouth in almost painful, desperate moaning. She was above him, riding him with a demanding rhythm, her face flushed pink, her body revealed, but she was free of shame and her desires were natural to her. The rhythm overtaken him, and awaken a locked-down life that he was choking for too long.

And then the sensation exploded.

His body went rigid with tension of all his muscles and the final scream has erupted from his mouth, an echo of a howling wolf. He understand everything now, men lusting for women, men killing for women, men dying for women. He felt the wet sheets. His mind was still inaccessible to him, running wild in spirals of euphoria, not caring.

When he got his senses back, the Woman was still there, resting in an embryo position next to him. He was cleansed of everything and with a new found courage, he caressed her curves from the shoulder to the hips.

"Pack your things, I am taking you away," said the dog and the wolf obeyed gratefully.