If this chapter sounds bad then I apologise, I did it a few times because it didn't sound right and I think I've got it this time – enjoy and review!
Slipping up – A long, purple drape fell away from one of the windows and a shaft on moonlight fell on the group of wizards. Regulus' consequent shadow fell over all of them but the light of the full moon still worked its ancient magic. The two men with lycanthropy bathed in the soft glow, it was cruel joke, if he had learnt anything from Remus it was that the change was something horrifying and agonizing. The two men before him were just grinning, maybe it was because they thought this would help them win the fight but if anything they seemed to have a look of tranquility as if they were about to be allowed their true forms. This was in all likelihood true for Fenrir, but Damian too? Still, the smile did not falter as their bodies began to rip apart and merge back together in the form of a terrifying beast.
Regulus could not find it within himself to throw curses at them when they were changing, it would seem like a cruel prank instead of a battle move, despite their smiles, he knew they had to be in pain. Fenrir's eyes grew a more distinct shade of amber and his jaws elongated, fur started spout over his body and the crunch of bones was heard as he morphed. Soon enough there were two werewolves before him, one slightly smaller than the other; he noted that Damian has a slightly navy tinge to his coat. With their transformation complete they lifted their snouts to the ceiling and as if they were performing some twisted ceremony to the moon to which they were enslaved, let out a blood thirsty howl then four angry, hate filled, blood thirsty amber eyes were turned to him. Regulus gulped, turned around and ran for his life.
Potions. He knew that Sirius had dabbled in brewing potions before, after all, he had to make that penseive and of course there was the veritaserum he needed, but he was under the impression he had stolen most of those from Severus. He was not quite expecting for his brother's store to be quite so extensive, it was ominous in a way, had the intruders found this place then they could have done some serious damage, worse yet, use them. Regulus smiled, but they were not here, he had gotten here first, these potions were the property of the Black household to do with as he pleased. He cruised through the aisles, finally there was semblance of organization to Sirius' stash, it was not like him to be so careful, but with potions he supposed even Sirius had to be careful they were not muddled.
He shuffled through the vials, making sure not to smash any of them, A,B, C, D – there it was. He stashed the vial into his sleeve and left the room, making sure it was hidden before searching for the intruders. He ended up looking down at them from across the corridor, they were not facing him. He looked around, this would do, there were far too many places for them to escape. He whistled, Damian, he assumed it was Damian, saw him first and rushed at him; he twirled away and ran down the corridor, across the next one. Damian was snapping at his heels, he jumped the banister and freefell the ten feet to the ground where he landed with a roll. He threw up a hasty shield as Damian crashed into him, it still sent the two of them flying across the room, but he was here.
The others arrived at that moment and the fierce battle started again, he could not continue to run and apparate, this was the last stand, but he had an advantage over the others. He was tiring, he was as agile and fit as any man but he was facing numerous adversaries. He fired shot after shot, barely having to say anything while his opponents fired spell after spell.
"Stupefy!"
"Serpensortia!"
"Incarcerous!"
"Inferni!"
"Crucio!"
Every spell either bounced off of his shield, battering it a little further or glanced passed him as he dodged out of the way.
"Abscissus!" A cutting hex.
"Nerfranuntar!" A nerve snapping hex.
"Osrupter!" A bone breaker.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The spells did not even include the werewolf biting and snapping at him. A force strike hit his shield and it shattered, he only just had time to open his eyes wide in fear before his world exploded in pain from a bone breaker that hit his arm. It was now or never, he drew out the vial and heated it in his hands with the reserves of his energy, ducking from the more dangerous curses although it threw him in the way of the ones that cut him and disorientated him. When he deemed the potion ready he dived straight into the middle of the opponents, held his breath and smashed the vial to the ground. Purple smoke rose and covered them like a shroud, and how very true that was. He covered his eyes and his nose and heard the wizards choke, curse and fall to the ground.
He waited until he heard them all thump to the floor and peeked an eye open, the smoke had cleared, they were all out for the count. He looked at the shattered remains of the vial, he was pretty sure that draught of the living death had never been used in that manner. It was adrenaline keeping him going now, he was going to have to air out the house so he did not fall victim of the potion too. It was going to be one hell of a cleanup job as well; he could hardly expect Kreacher to take care of everything. First things first though, he held his injured arm protectively to his chest, he needed to rest, recuperate and get himself healed up. Perhaps if he had not been so tired, he would have noticed his mistake sooner and there would not have been such dire consequences.
However, by the time he glanced at the unconscious bodies on his ground again it was too late. There were only four bodies. All he got was a warning growl right in his ear before who could only be Fenrir Greyback slammed into him.
Regulus' whole body hurt, his arm was numb, and cold, it was definitely broken but he could not gather the courage to look at it in case the bone was peeking out of the skin. He tried to grab onto something and pull himself to his feet but his hands kept slipping because of the blood on them. He fought his way to his knees but he felt so dizzy he fell back onto his stomach before the werewolf pushed him with his head. Claws sunk into the flesh on his chest once again and he did not even have the energy to scream as yet more blood bubbled to the surface. His magic was desperate, pulsing around him to try and regenerate the blood he had lost, close his multiple lacerations and set his arm straight. The trouble was, he was just too exhausted.
Regulus groaned as he was rolled onto his back by one massive paw and hit once more so he was tumbling across the ground again to crash against the opposite wall. He had no idea that werewolves were so strong, or was it just because he was so weak now? Fenrir Greyback was playing with him, of this he was sure and he was enjoying it and he was too tired to continue to cry out. The werewolf did not like that and his mouth closed around his injured arm. Fenrir could not speak when he was in his alt form; in fact he was not all that eloquent when humanoid either but his eyes told a whole other story. Regulus' own orbs were half lidded with pain but he stared into the amber pits anyway which were alight with amusement and bloodlust.
"What will it take to make you scream?" They asked him and the powerful jaws clamped down a little harder, "what do I have to do to make you cry for me, how much more can you bear until you break?" The wolf did not seem to understand, he was already broken, he was near death, his magic valiantly fighting on but his soul had given up. The reason he was not screaming was because he was so used up, just like his big brother, completely used up. The jaws clamped down on his arms harder and he found the energy to scream. The bloodcurdling cry seemed to excite the werewolf and Reg could swear that through his tears he could see the tail wagging in approval. The tongue was not touching his blood, not that it would matter to be infected now if he was about to die.
Suddenly the mouth closed fully, Regulus heard the bone crunch beneath the pressure and the head yanked. Regulus did not know he could scream so loud as he watched the arm get ripped out of its socket and away from his body, the blood started to pour from the wound in earnest. His magic tried to regenerate it and close the wound but he was dizzy with blood loss. The arm was eaten before his eyes and Regulus was sobbing uncontrollably at the pain. He wished he would just pass out so he would be given relief from this torture but his magic kept him awake, he needed to be conscious so his magic could be directed to where it needed to be. With blood dripping from his muzzle and a little skin stuck between his teeth, the wolf advanced again.
From the glint in his amber eyes Regulus knew that this time he was going to be killed. He collapsed onto his back and bared his neck; perhaps the wolf would be merciful and not drag out his torture any longer. Then suddenly a roar ripped through the chamber louder and fiercer than any Greyback had unleashed upon him and a different wolf burst into the room. It was smaller than Fenrir, if only slightly, and slimmer, younger, but immediately Regulus could tell it was faster and fitter and it was angry. The wolf stalked over to them and with one bound it had knocked Fenrir away and was standing between him and the wolf that wanted to kill him. "Good boy," Regulus said, half delirious as the new wolf eyed its adversary warily, and with no warning, they rushed at each other.
From then on it was chaos. Soon the younger Black lost the ability to tell them apart and his head was spinning, yet with the brief reprieve he was receiving his magic was able to start to replenish the blood more successfully, and close some of the many maladies on his body. The two wolves fought with unbelievable swiftness and strength, ferociousness such as he'd never seen shining through. He only knew which was which seeming as one kept running between him and the other wolf when the larger one threatened him. He had been wrong, Damian was not a hopeless fool, he was a fool like him, one who had seen the error of his ways when it really counted. Regulus had to give it to him, for one who had been a wolf for scarcely four years, he sure fought well.
Images blurred together and time wore on and he was not sure how much time had passed amongst the snarls and the growls and the roars of the two beasts until suddenly one wolf had the other pinned. The only trouble was, Regulus was not sure which one had won the battle and seeming as he was so exhausted he could barely see, he most certainly could not cast any magic. The wolf underneath yelped as sharp teeth sank into fur and flesh and was cut short at the victor ripped out its jugular. Regulus could do nothing but watch in morbid fascination as the wolf lifted its muzzle to the sky and howled its victory. He attempted a smile when he saw the victor was the smaller one, "yeah alright we get it, well done," he said weakly as the howl reached its peak and abruptly stopped.
The wolf padded over to him with hits tail between his legs and his head bowed low to the ground like a dog in disgrace. He wondered how the young man had managed to throw off the Draught of the Living Death, if it being a gas meant all the others were awake too then the short victory that had just been won for him did not count for much. Or maybe he was jumping to pessimistic conclusions; maybe it was his lycanthropy that meant its effect was not so profound. Then again, weren't wolves meant to be feral and not know friend from foe when in their alt forms unless they take a wolfs-bane potion? Damian and Fenrir had most definitely not taken any sort of potion; they wanted to be as feral as they could for the invasion of Black Manor.
The wolf whined as it looked at Regulus who was still sobbing on the ground and nosed the lacerations of his arm and chest and stomach. It licked the wound where his missing arm was and the flaring pain there faded ever so slightly. It nosed the other cuts on his skin and the bruising on his face as if he was trying to say that everything was going to be ok. For a moment he worried about the effects of the werewolf saliva before realizing that he had bigger things to worry about, there were very few problems that were too great to be put off for a night or two. Regulus raised his hand and placed it on the giant canine's head and patted the matted grey fur there. He stared into the amber eyes and realized he had made a mistake; this was not Damian Hart, "Remy?"
The other death eaters were gone, well, asleep, he had decided they would remain that way until Sirius was better and he could decide what to do with them, he always did come up with the most inventive of punishments. Oh his Sirius pretended to be all golden and light but he was as Slytherin and Black as they came when he wanted to be, even before the whole Azkaban fiasco changed his personality. He would store them down in the basement or something until then, the potion would hold for as long as he wanted it to. Remus curled around him, cradling him, protecting him, licking his wounds until the pain was down to a throb, he often forgot that werewolves only changed you if they bit down, not if they licked, it had healing properties, he had never been more thankful.
Now that he thought about it, his magic would probably force the lycanthropy out of his body anyway; he was strong enough that the process would not kill him. Regulus did not want to move for the rest of that day, he did not feel as if he could, not to get to bed, not to get a pain relieving potion, or blood replenishing or a pick me up, he could do all of that in the morning, including worry about his missing arm. He leant back against the soft grey fur, burying his face into the shoulder that was there as the beast's hind legs and tail lifted to cover his cold body. He did not want to know what he looked like, pale and bloodied with a missing limb. He was alive, he was glad of that, but he was almost as exhausted as Sirius was and he was worse for wear.
Not even Sirius with his immense power could give him his arm back; he was going to have to get a prosthetic one. He knew he could, it was easy, after a while it performed almost as well as your old one although things just wouldn't be the same. For the first time in a long while he wanted his mother, back the way she was before bitterness and mad sickness clouded her mind. Regulus clenched his hand in the fur of the canine and wetness appeared on his cheeks. He was crying and he did not bother to brush them away, letting them fall onto his face and his companion. The dog licked them away but after a while let them fall and whined softly, almost as if he was attempting song to cheer him up. It did not work but Regulus appreciated the sentiment even so.
They stayed there for hours until they fell asleep, the wolf still curled around him as if protecting an egg, Regulus in turn curled around the remains of his arm. When the morning came one could see two men, one naked, one in mangled, torn clothes, softly sleeping in each other's arm(s). Regulus awoke first and looked down at the man who had saved his life and then comforted him afterwards, bathing his wounds and offering him his strength. One would never guess this was the same being as the ferocious wolf that had attacked Greyback earlier; the remains of said wolf still lay mangled at the other end of the room. Remus looked so down trodden, thin, pale, so, so tired as the transformations often were. He looked pitiful, like someone who needed to be protected. It was almost funny how quickly some situations could be turned on their heads.
With a fond smile down to the Remus, no doubt Kreacher had taken Sirius and Harry to him and then alerted him of who had invaded the house; he wrapped his arm tighter around his waist and buried his face into the werewolf's chest. As he had said, he could wait for a few more hours before he had to get up and do things. If he did not die during the night then he was not going to die during the following day when his magic reserves had awaked the slightest bit. He could wait before he moved the bodies, before he got healing potions, before he got a prosthetic arm, before he had to move at all. Remus was here. Remus was and always had been part of the pack, third to alpha now it would seem, they would keep each other safe – for as long as they both shall live.