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Sirius lay, contented, in the dirty leaves beneath the trees, rolled onto his back, his paws tucked happily at his chest. He was full after one rabbit. Remus, who was much larger, was tearing the meat from his third, laying just a few feet away as he ripped at the furry flesh, chewing eagerly. Sirius watched him, his head turned upward, keeping an eye that he didn’t wander off. There wasn’t much for him to get into here in the woods, though. No people to bite, and they were stronger than a majority of the creatures they’d come across. Though there had been a small pack of foxes that had stared at the dog and the wolf from under a thicket of brambles as they’d passed through, and the foxes, due to the number in their back, may have been an issue - they had been far more wary of the canines than anything else.

The rabbits had proved to be a challenge to catch - they moved with a speed and agility that neither of the dogs had perfected yet, though Remus’s came far more instinctively. He’d caught all four rabbits, surrendering them to his alpha the moment he’d shaken the life from them. Sirius had nudged the rabbits that Remus had eaten back to him one at a time.

Finally satiated, Remus rolled onto his side, imitating the stance that Sirius had already assumed releasing a big wolfish sigh, his tongue rolling to clean his muzzle.

This is the life, Sirius thought, stretching, tail flapping a bit in happiness, his eyes closing in contentment, ready to take a snooze there on the forest floor.

It’s not all bad, I suppose.

Sirius’s eyes opened and he rolled onto his stomach, looking over at the wolf as he scratched his back on the ground, flopping about, dragging his back through the stones, sticks, and leaves. Rey? Is that you?

The wolf’s head rolled to look up at the dog. Who else would it be?

I mean I know it’s you, but - BUT IT’S REALLY YOU!

There was a pause as the meaning of the thought sank in, Bloody hell, it is! Remus realized. Merlin’s beard, I have control. SIRIUS I HAVE CONTROL! SIRIUS I CAN THINK FOR MYSELF! SIRIUS!! Remus leaped to his feet, barking with uncontrollable joy as he leaped about the dark place they’d found to eat their rabbits. SIRIUS I’M ME! I’M ME!

Sirius jumped up and leaped about with the wolf, equally excited. YOU’RE YOU, YOU’RE YOU!




Elsewhere, two other dogs were talking about one of them having control as well. These were both wolves. Greyback’s sharp claws cut into Veigler’s shoulder, blood drawing out of the flesh, soaking his ragged brown-grey fur as Greyback’s thick, horribly yellowed teeth tightened about Veigler’s jugular - tight enough to restrict the air but not enough to puncture the skin, just enough to make him horribly uncomfortable.

A single snap is all it would take to end you, Greyback growled lowly, the sound of it vibrating through his clamped jaw, shivering into Veigler menacingly. A single snap. I can command you to lie still for it, to simply stay and let me kill you without a fight. And yet you defy me again. For the third time.

Veigler whimpered, the sound catching in his throat at the place Greyback’s jaw held him. I’m sorry… I’m sorry, please let me go… Please, have mercy… Mercy, Fenrir. Mercy.

You were meant to bring me the Boy.

I’m sorry!

Is it so hard? Are you such a coward you cannot do this one simple task? He tightened so that Veigler’s wind was completely cut off, he gurgled and choked, his tongue struggling to create a way to allow oxygen to his lungs, but none would pass and he felt his mind beginning to drift before Greyback loosened his grip. The brown-grey wolf panted, gasping to relieve the burning desperation in his lungs. So help me, Ned, if the moon rises in February and you do not bring the boy to me, I will kill you.

Veigler shook.

As a reminder… Greyback raked his paw downward, ripping the flesh at Veigler’s shoulder, tearing the bone right from it’s socket. The trembling wolf let out a shrieking howl that echoed through the cave, disturbing birds in the woods just outside, making them take flight, soaring off into the moon. Blood poured from the wound, staining the wolf’s fur, pooling on the cold stone beneath him.

Greyback drew a deep breath, relishing the scent of the blood, and he lowered his nose to it, licking some of it up from the ground, enjoying the taste of it as it stained his muzzle and the copper flavor filled his senses.

For a fleeting moment, he considered killing Ned Veigler then and there - to hell with the Dark Lord’s orders! The taste of the flesh and the blood would be worth the risk he would run. He could always tell Voldemort that Veigler had defied him… he would be excused for his transgression… He licked his lips, eager, and he licked at the wound, enjoying the hot taste of the torn flesh. The weaker, torn wolf tensed at the pain of the tongue touching the raw, throbbing flesh… Fenrir had made him, he could kill him just as easily. Veigler shivered at the poeticness of having been born and killed by the same werewolf.

Do it. His plea was weak. Do it. Kill me.

It was this request that snapped Fenrir Greyback to his senses. You’ll die when I say you’ll die. Not a moment before. Greyback stepped away.

Outside, the sun was peeking up over the eastern horizon and Greyback knew he needed to get out of there, away from Hogsmeade. He couldn’t be seen. Too many witches and wizards knew his grizzled face from various incidents reported in the Daily Prophet over the years. He didn’t fancy being spotted. The place would be crawling with Aurors and security measures so thick he’d never accomplish his mission to get the Boy.

Next month, Veigler, you bring the Boy or you’ll pay a heavier fine than this. Greyback threatened, and he turned to the mouth of the cave, padding away, blood still dripping from his muzzle.

The brown-grey wolf lay on the ground,the blood from his wound still pumping. He was weakening by the minute. Then a ray of light shone through the cave mouth and he struggled to pull himself toward it, scrambling his paws across the bloody stone, dragging himself, smearing the blood in the cave dust, stretching for that merciful sunlight.

He changed, hollering out at the unbelievable pain as his wolf shoulder turned human, revealing a horribly deep wound through with the ball socket of his shoulder was clearly visible, completely disconnected from the joint in which it belonged. He howled out in his human voice, clutching his arm, wrapped in torn teacher’s robes, bracing his elbow up with his left palm as best he could, the white shirt beneath his robe soaked red.

Veigler struggled to get to his feet, knees weak so that as he came out of the cave he fell into a kneel, dizzy and exhausted from what little effort he’d already exerted. He didn’t know how he was possibly going to walk all the way back to the castle - whose spires he could see a far off to the north of where he knelt. He bent forward, pain catching his nerves so violently that he threw up. He fought to stand. He had to stand. He had to go - go and tell Dumbledore what had happened.

Sick clung to his chin.

He wobbled, unable to keep straight as he moved, lurching from one foot to the other and then he wailed as he released his elbow for a moment, his arm hanging limp and pathetic at his side and he clutched his wand from his pocket and closed his eyes, begging the gods not to let him splinch himself, and he disapparated to the far side of Hogsmeade, to the path that led to Hogwarts. He didn’t know if he could make it across the grounds, but he had to try.

He paused to be sick again, lurching it over a log along the side of the path, falling to his knees once again so that his cheek pressed against the ice-coated bark of the log, his slacks soaking in the snow, which was stained red by the blood pouring from his arm.

There was a creaking - the sound of the gates of Hogwarts opening. Someone was coming out of them. Veigler struggled for the air, “Help me,” he sobbed. “Help me. Someone please. Anyone.”

There were hurried footsteps on the path as whoever it was that had opened the gate came ‘round to see who it was begging for help in the road to Hogsmeade. It was Dumbledore. He’d been on his way to check on Remus in the Shrieking Shack - about to disapparate away when Ned’s voice had carried ‘round the bend to his ears. He hastened to Veigler’s side. “What has he done to you?” Dumbledore whispered and he looked away down the path, “He hasn’t followed --”

“No, he’s gone,” Veigler struggled to whisper the words. “He’ll be back… He’ll kill me next month, Albus. He’ll kill me. He’ll finally, mercifully, kill me.”

Dumbledore’s eyes softened. “It would be no mercy,” he replied.

Veigler’s teeth were grit with the pain.

“Come, we’ll have Poppy tend your wound as best she can…” Dumbledore whispered.

“Fawkes?” choked Veigler.

“Gone,” Dumbledore answered. “But I have a bottle of Phoenix Tears in my office and I’ll get it once we get you to Poppy’s care.” He helped Veigler to his feet, catching him as he stumbled, steadying him with a surprising amount of strength at Veigler would not have expected from the old man. “It will be alright, Ned.”

They were the last words he heard before Veigler blacked out, slumping into Dumbledore’s arms. “That’s two of my professors that have passed out on me in one night,” Dumbledore murmured, shaking his head. Quickly, Dumbledore waved his wand, lifting Veigler gently from the ground by magic, hurrying back to the castle.




It was most lucky indeed for Remus, at least, that Dumbledore had been distracted on the road. The boys had fallen asleep in the woods, nestled in the leaves, their canine forms curled around one another for warmth against a cold that had set in during the wee hours of the morning. At sunrise, Remus had changed back to a person, and he lay now, coiled around the fluffy black form of Snuffles, his head resting on the dog’s back haunches, one leg over the dog’s neck so that his torso pressed along the length of the dog.

He’d been having a dream… though he couldn’t for the life of him recall what about.

He stirred as the chill of the night nipped along his spine and the weight of sleep lifted from his heavily lidded eyes. For a moment, his mind hazy from the depths of sleep, nothing seemed odd at all, and he snuggled his nose against the softness of the dog’s furs in contentment, eager to get back to whatever it was that he’d been dreaming of.

Then the dawning of realization came to him and he sat up, disturbing Sirius, kicking the dog’s head as he moved his leg. “We’re in the bloody woods!”

The dog stretched lazily, yawning as he extended his legs before him to their fullest length.

“SIRIUS. We’re in the woods.” Remus panicked, tensing up.

The dog stretched his neck left… then right.

“Bloody hell. Dumbledore’s going to go to the Shack and find I’m not there and then what? Then I’ll be expelled. Oh hell. He’s probably there now. I’m in trouble. Sirius, I’m in deep trouble. What’ve we done?”

Finally, realizing Remus wasn’t going to calm down, Sirius turned back into a person, too, sitting up and turning to look at Remus for the first time. A wide grin spread across his mouth. “That, uh, isn’t your only problem, mate,” he said, a snicker to his voice.

“What?” Remus looked positively panicked.

“Well either that’s your wand in your pocket or you’re sporting a punishable case of morning wood, there. Good luck walking all the way back to the Shack with that between your legs.”

Remus looked down, and quickly covered his lap with his palms, his eyes widened and his face turned crimson.

“Nothing to be ashamed of, bloody hell if I had a knut for every time I woke up like that --”

“STOP!” Remus commanded. He didn’t want to talk about it. Didn’t want to think about it. It wasn’t appropriate. His face burned hotter than the fire of a thousand suns. He was certain everything he’d ever felt was written on it in bold black searing letters.

But Sirius only laughed and he stood up and stretched again as a human. “Relax, Rey, blimey you’re too innocent.” Sirius patted Remus’s hair. Remus flinched at the touch, unsure he could handle it at the moment. “I’ll tell you what. You do what you need to… I’ll go hunt us down some food --”

“I need to get back to the Shrieking Shack is what I need to do,” Remus replied. “And you’re not being very helpful. Dumbledore’s going to hit the roof if he finds I’m not there, if he hasn’t already.”

“You’re cranky when you’re horny!” Sirius exclaimed.

“SHUT UP! STOP TALKING ABOUT MY… MY PROBLEM! IT’S NOT YOU THAT’LL BE IN TROUBLE IF DUMBLEDORE GOES TO THE SHACK AND DOESN’T FIND ME THERE! HE ISN’T EXPECTING YOU TO BE THERE IS HE?” Remus bellowed. Blood thumped behind his cheeks, he was so scarlet, he could barely see. His face literally throbbed from how mortified he was, and Sirius just couldn’t let it go. If he could’ve crawled under a rock to die, he would’ve. “I JUST WANT TO GO BACK TO THE BLOODY SHACK!”

“Alriiiiight!” Sirius said, “Blimey! Let’s go, then!” He held out a hand to help Remus up from the ground.

Remus stared at it, his hands still busy covering his lap.

“C’mon, Moody Moony,” Sirius teased.

Remus put his hand in Sirius’s and drew a sharp breath as every nerve in his body screamed. He closed his eyes, trying to push every thought that crossed his mind out of his head before something horrible happened. He had never had thoughts such as these in all his life. They were alarming.

Sirius pulled Remus up to his feet.

“There we go,” Sirius said, and he flung his arm over Remus’s shoulder. “You gotta admit, it was a good night,” he said, grinning. “Well, clearly you thought so.” Sirius laughed.

Remus’s eyes were still tightly closed as Sirius guided them along through the trees the way they’d come, back toward the Shrieking Shack. He’d wanted Sirius to put his arm ‘round his shoulders this way for so bloody long - two long months he’d willed for it - and now here they were and Remus wanted nothing more than for Sirius to take it away. He couldn’t bare it. Not right now.

“The wind in your hair… dirt under your feet… Felt like you owned the world, huh?” Sirius was continuing on, completely and utterly oblivious to the agony he was inflicting on Remus. “Like being released, huh, mate?”

Bloody hell, thought Remus. He’s going to kill me with this right now. He is actually going to kill me.

Death by sexual tension.

What a way to die.

“You alright?” Sirius asked.

“Grand,” choked Remus.

Sirius snickered, “So who is it that’s got you like this? Emmaline Vance? Meg Johnson? Annalee McKinnon? McKenna Alliston?”

Remus shook his head.

“C’mon, Moony, you had to have been dreaming about somebody to get you this… bothered.” Sirius grinned, his fingers seeming to scorch Remus’s shoulder. “Tell me. I won’t shut up about it until you do.”

So, in the name of making Sirius shut up about it as quickly as possible, Remus said the first name that came to his mind.

“Evans.”

Sirius’s eyes widened and his eyebrows lifted up on his forehead with amusement. “Oh blimey, don’t let James know. He’ll curse you for her.”

Remus mumbled something that Sirius didn’t quite catch.

“What was that, Moony?” he asked, leaning so his ear was closer to Remus’s mouth to better hear him.

“I feel as though I’m already cursed, you dog,” Remus repeated through gritted teeth.

Sirius laughed loudly.