(no subject)
Who: Ron Weasley
Where: A secluded grove of trees
When: 20th February 2002
Status: Complete
Shrugging off the last of this clothing, Ron didn't need to glance over his shoulder to know the moon had nearly crested the tops of the trees, for he could feel the seductive lunar pull right down to the very core of his being. It wouldn't be much longer now, his blood sang so loudly that it made his heart pound and his breath come in short, ragged gasps. Soon he would shed this clumsy form for one leaner, more primal, joining a hunt older than the hills. Older than England.
It scared the hell out of him.
The first wave hit while depositing his overstuffed rucksack into the hollow of a dead oak. Red hot fire ignited Ron's senses, making him stumble backward, scrabbling for hold of anything solid only to come up short. A film of sweat covered him as he tried to focus on what he'd once overheard Remus tell Hermione back at Grimmauld Place so long ago - that when you gave in to the wolf fully, letting the feral blood overtake you completely, the transformation was almost tolerable.
Almost.
Ron couldn't imagine anything worse than the excruciating pain he now felt. The Cruciatus curse couldn't hold a candle to it. He'd willingly endure ten rounds with old Mad Eye, a giant, man-eating spider and a mountain troll than suffer through another second of this torture.
A gurgling cry issued from between clenched teeth while muscles strained and drew taught. Bones elongated. Skin rippled like the waves of a stormy sea. Everything popping, shifting, tearing. Remaking him until nothing of Ronald Bilius Weasley remained except for a deep coppery coat of dense fur.
Pointing his snout skyward, blunt nostrils flared as they took in a multitude of scents that travelled with the wind: wet earth, wood smoke, pine, a faint whiff of bubble and squeak from miles away, and finally, the shuddering fear of a weaker animal as it crouched in a nearby thicket, hoping against hope that the newly-made monster would pass it by.
Ron's lips curled back with a growl, exposing sharp canines that flashed in the moonlight.
There were wild things roaming the forest tonight.
And he was one of them.
Where: A secluded grove of trees
When: 20th February 2002
Status: Complete
Shrugging off the last of this clothing, Ron didn't need to glance over his shoulder to know the moon had nearly crested the tops of the trees, for he could feel the seductive lunar pull right down to the very core of his being. It wouldn't be much longer now, his blood sang so loudly that it made his heart pound and his breath come in short, ragged gasps. Soon he would shed this clumsy form for one leaner, more primal, joining a hunt older than the hills. Older than England.
It scared the hell out of him.
The first wave hit while depositing his overstuffed rucksack into the hollow of a dead oak. Red hot fire ignited Ron's senses, making him stumble backward, scrabbling for hold of anything solid only to come up short. A film of sweat covered him as he tried to focus on what he'd once overheard Remus tell Hermione back at Grimmauld Place so long ago - that when you gave in to the wolf fully, letting the feral blood overtake you completely, the transformation was almost tolerable.
Almost.
Ron couldn't imagine anything worse than the excruciating pain he now felt. The Cruciatus curse couldn't hold a candle to it. He'd willingly endure ten rounds with old Mad Eye, a giant, man-eating spider and a mountain troll than suffer through another second of this torture.
A gurgling cry issued from between clenched teeth while muscles strained and drew taught. Bones elongated. Skin rippled like the waves of a stormy sea. Everything popping, shifting, tearing. Remaking him until nothing of Ronald Bilius Weasley remained except for a deep coppery coat of dense fur.
Pointing his snout skyward, blunt nostrils flared as they took in a multitude of scents that travelled with the wind: wet earth, wood smoke, pine, a faint whiff of bubble and squeak from miles away, and finally, the shuddering fear of a weaker animal as it crouched in a nearby thicket, hoping against hope that the newly-made monster would pass it by.
Ron's lips curled back with a growl, exposing sharp canines that flashed in the moonlight.
There were wild things roaming the forest tonight.
And he was one of them.