Fic: Peripheral (Bill and Fenrir; R)
Title: Peripheral
Author: persephone56
Disclaimer: If I owned Bill, do you think I'd be sitting at the computer right now, hm? The characters and their world belong to the brilliant mind of J.K.Rowling, and I appreciate her allowing us to play with them.
Characters: Bill and Fenrir (note: not Bill/Fenrir), Remus
Rating: R, for violence
Wordcount: 1218
Summary: Fenrir hates the ones who truly live; he can only destroy them.
Warnings: violence, maybe a bit scary.
Author's Notes: Title and some ideas come from 'The Package' by A Perfect Circle (click for lyrics), but it is not a songfic. It is, however, a spoiler for HBP, filling in a missing scene from the book.
Many thanks to pre_raphaelite1 for the beta-job. ;)
Crossposted to monsteruncaged
Peripheral
The darkness was so thick he could almost feel it coating his throat and lungs as he breathed it in slowly, as he reveled in it. Usually though, the scents associated with the darkness were of his own kind, not these pathetic, delicate humans. His food. Darkness hid him, hid the sense of death that always surrounded him and always consumed him. He hated to enter into the light-the light revealed too much, infiltrated too much. It had too much life.
But Fenrir Greyback couldn't resist such an opportunity.
He would be here.
"Gibbon, you head up the Astronomy Tower, and the rest of us will wait below," someone said from his right. Fenrir sniffed, but could not isolate their scent well enough to identify them. All he could smell was their fear. Fear, he breathed in deeper.
"B-but-" Gibbon protested.
Darkness and fear.
"Just do it," the first voice whispered harshly.
Fenrir could feel his blood beginning to pound against his veins.
"Fine."
The group he was with crept along the corridor. Youth. He could smell traces of children all around him in this place as his senses heightened in his growing excitement. Thoughts of youth, life, and fresh, fresh skin almost distracted him from the task at hand. The only thing keeping him moving ahead with the rest was the fact that he would be with Dumbledore. Otherwise, Fenrir would have turned back for those delicious youths that had met them as they entered the castle. One had seemed rather plump and juicy... They would have been such easy targets... They would have broken in my hands...
But his thoughts were interrupted by a familiar, older scent.
Cub.
Voices shouting.
Mine.
"Shit!" The Malfoy brat called out at the advance of three guards. Or, two guards and one... werewolf. The scent of one of his. What is Lupin doing here? He didn't come with us. No, he sniffed again, this time smelling betrayal. He peered through the dimness to see that Lupin was alongside the two others who were fighting the intruding Death Eaters. Lupin entered my den, Lupin was mine! But Lupin was here, was not his now, was firing hexes at Death Eaters, was foolishly ignoring that he should be mine! Fenrir growled and bared his teeth. Lupin...
He stayed on the edge of the fight, keeping his eyes on Lupin, seeing the man move through the battle with a fire Fenrir had never seen. But it wasn't just Lupin on fire: through the fading darkness, he saw a flash of brightness near Lupin. One of the guards. A tall, lithe man, with hair that had a life of itself. Red, red hair-red, the color of blood, of life. Life was something Fenrir had lost so long ago.
And so this man will lose his.
Fenrir could never bear to see someone so full of spirit, of righteous anger, of life. It always had to be taken away and brought down, away from light, into the darkness. Dragged down into the darkness with him. And this man brought that light too close to his Lupin, showing Fenrir that he had never had as much a hold on his little cub as he'd thought.
Fenrir worked his way stealthily along the periphery of the fight, never losing sight of the red hair. He watched and watched, as the man moved quickly and effortlessly amid the pulse of the fight. Fenrir came closer to him, hiding behind the largest Death Eater. He could smell the man's sweat. He is also excited by the battle, Fenrir noticed. As the aging werewolf tensed, readying himself for his attack, the wiry, graying hair on his back lifted.
The man finally looked his way, rage shining in his eyes, and Fenrir dashed out from behind the Death Eater, knocking over Gibbon on his way back down the stairs. He was a large beast, but he was quick too, and he rounded on this red-haired-warrior? He supposed that the man thought himself a warrior, with that ridiculous earring a trophy of his feeble ferocity. If he's lucky, I'll show him my trophies someday...
Suddenly, he heard a howl. Lupin... He growled again and looked around, finding the other werewolf easily, instinctively. How could I have forgotten the traitor? Lupin was on the ground, on his hands and knees like an animal, by Gibbon's dead body. That silly witch had fired a killing curse at Lupin and missed. All the better-he can be for me when I finish his companion. But Fenrir's flame-haired prize had weaseled his way over, away from Fenrir, and was instead attacking her. And Lupin watched the little warrior... This man protects you, little traitorous wolf... Fenrir snarled, appreciating the perfection of it all.
I will make him like you, Lupin. I will make him mine and you will despair his fate, cub...
With boiling ecstasy, he finally seized his chance to pounce on the red-haired man, knocking him back to the ground. So full of life... The man scrambled with his hands, trying to find that little stick of wood that made him feel powerful, but he could not match the raw, wrathful strength of the werewolf.
Fenrir ripped at the man's shirt, exposing spotted skin: tender, soft skin, so very, very delicate and frail... He grinned and bent to lick his chest, receiving a howl of revulsion from his victim. You will be mine... Blood pumped under the man's skin. He could feel his heart pounding, he could smell the liquid in the veins of his neck. He could smell the man's life. He could taste it...
He pressed his sharp teeth into the ripe flesh. So good... The smell, the taste, infiltrated his senses, heightened his desires, made him wild. The man's eyes were filled with fear and the red of his blood mingled with the red of his hair, staining it, draining him. Fenrir scraped at the little warrior's neck, slashed his claws across his chest, bit flesh from his nose, his ear and drank in the spilled lifeblood. He looked down on the man and those defiant but fearful eyes, then ran his fingers down his cheeks, making them seep red. The man had been beautiful once. Now he will be mine instead...
"Greyback!"
Sinking his claws into the red-haired man's arms to hold him in place, Fenrir looked up to see Lupin fighting his way toward this side of the corridor, a wild look of wrath on his face that Fenrir met with his own. He opened his mouth to call out to the traitor, when sharp pain resonated in his loins. He brought down his head and met the eyes of his victim. The little bitch! The man's eyes pulsed darkness and wrath. He will pay dearly for that! He lifted his arm and brought it down on the man's face, feeling the bones of his cheek crack under the force of his blow. He snarled and leaned for those piercing eyes-
"Dumbledore's here!" someone shouted and Fenrir screamed in frustration. He only had started with this toy. But he would find him again. He would finish this. But for now...
For now, wherever Dumbledore was, so too would be the enticing flesh of young Harry Potter...
Author: persephone56
Disclaimer: If I owned Bill, do you think I'd be sitting at the computer right now, hm? The characters and their world belong to the brilliant mind of J.K.Rowling, and I appreciate her allowing us to play with them.
Characters: Bill and Fenrir (note: not Bill/Fenrir), Remus
Rating: R, for violence
Wordcount: 1218
Summary: Fenrir hates the ones who truly live; he can only destroy them.
Warnings: violence, maybe a bit scary.
Author's Notes: Title and some ideas come from 'The Package' by A Perfect Circle (click for lyrics), but it is not a songfic. It is, however, a spoiler for HBP, filling in a missing scene from the book.
Many thanks to pre_raphaelite1 for the beta-job. ;)
Crossposted to monsteruncaged
Peripheral
The darkness was so thick he could almost feel it coating his throat and lungs as he breathed it in slowly, as he reveled in it. Usually though, the scents associated with the darkness were of his own kind, not these pathetic, delicate humans. His food. Darkness hid him, hid the sense of death that always surrounded him and always consumed him. He hated to enter into the light-the light revealed too much, infiltrated too much. It had too much life.
But Fenrir Greyback couldn't resist such an opportunity.
He would be here.
"Gibbon, you head up the Astronomy Tower, and the rest of us will wait below," someone said from his right. Fenrir sniffed, but could not isolate their scent well enough to identify them. All he could smell was their fear. Fear, he breathed in deeper.
"B-but-" Gibbon protested.
Darkness and fear.
"Just do it," the first voice whispered harshly.
Fenrir could feel his blood beginning to pound against his veins.
"Fine."
The group he was with crept along the corridor. Youth. He could smell traces of children all around him in this place as his senses heightened in his growing excitement. Thoughts of youth, life, and fresh, fresh skin almost distracted him from the task at hand. The only thing keeping him moving ahead with the rest was the fact that he would be with Dumbledore. Otherwise, Fenrir would have turned back for those delicious youths that had met them as they entered the castle. One had seemed rather plump and juicy... They would have been such easy targets... They would have broken in my hands...
But his thoughts were interrupted by a familiar, older scent.
Cub.
Voices shouting.
Mine.
"Shit!" The Malfoy brat called out at the advance of three guards. Or, two guards and one... werewolf. The scent of one of his. What is Lupin doing here? He didn't come with us. No, he sniffed again, this time smelling betrayal. He peered through the dimness to see that Lupin was alongside the two others who were fighting the intruding Death Eaters. Lupin entered my den, Lupin was mine! But Lupin was here, was not his now, was firing hexes at Death Eaters, was foolishly ignoring that he should be mine! Fenrir growled and bared his teeth. Lupin...
He stayed on the edge of the fight, keeping his eyes on Lupin, seeing the man move through the battle with a fire Fenrir had never seen. But it wasn't just Lupin on fire: through the fading darkness, he saw a flash of brightness near Lupin. One of the guards. A tall, lithe man, with hair that had a life of itself. Red, red hair-red, the color of blood, of life. Life was something Fenrir had lost so long ago.
And so this man will lose his.
Fenrir could never bear to see someone so full of spirit, of righteous anger, of life. It always had to be taken away and brought down, away from light, into the darkness. Dragged down into the darkness with him. And this man brought that light too close to his Lupin, showing Fenrir that he had never had as much a hold on his little cub as he'd thought.
Fenrir worked his way stealthily along the periphery of the fight, never losing sight of the red hair. He watched and watched, as the man moved quickly and effortlessly amid the pulse of the fight. Fenrir came closer to him, hiding behind the largest Death Eater. He could smell the man's sweat. He is also excited by the battle, Fenrir noticed. As the aging werewolf tensed, readying himself for his attack, the wiry, graying hair on his back lifted.
The man finally looked his way, rage shining in his eyes, and Fenrir dashed out from behind the Death Eater, knocking over Gibbon on his way back down the stairs. He was a large beast, but he was quick too, and he rounded on this red-haired-warrior? He supposed that the man thought himself a warrior, with that ridiculous earring a trophy of his feeble ferocity. If he's lucky, I'll show him my trophies someday...
Suddenly, he heard a howl. Lupin... He growled again and looked around, finding the other werewolf easily, instinctively. How could I have forgotten the traitor? Lupin was on the ground, on his hands and knees like an animal, by Gibbon's dead body. That silly witch had fired a killing curse at Lupin and missed. All the better-he can be for me when I finish his companion. But Fenrir's flame-haired prize had weaseled his way over, away from Fenrir, and was instead attacking her. And Lupin watched the little warrior... This man protects you, little traitorous wolf... Fenrir snarled, appreciating the perfection of it all.
I will make him like you, Lupin. I will make him mine and you will despair his fate, cub...
With boiling ecstasy, he finally seized his chance to pounce on the red-haired man, knocking him back to the ground. So full of life... The man scrambled with his hands, trying to find that little stick of wood that made him feel powerful, but he could not match the raw, wrathful strength of the werewolf.
Fenrir ripped at the man's shirt, exposing spotted skin: tender, soft skin, so very, very delicate and frail... He grinned and bent to lick his chest, receiving a howl of revulsion from his victim. You will be mine... Blood pumped under the man's skin. He could feel his heart pounding, he could smell the liquid in the veins of his neck. He could smell the man's life. He could taste it...
He pressed his sharp teeth into the ripe flesh. So good... The smell, the taste, infiltrated his senses, heightened his desires, made him wild. The man's eyes were filled with fear and the red of his blood mingled with the red of his hair, staining it, draining him. Fenrir scraped at the little warrior's neck, slashed his claws across his chest, bit flesh from his nose, his ear and drank in the spilled lifeblood. He looked down on the man and those defiant but fearful eyes, then ran his fingers down his cheeks, making them seep red. The man had been beautiful once. Now he will be mine instead...
"Greyback!"
Sinking his claws into the red-haired man's arms to hold him in place, Fenrir looked up to see Lupin fighting his way toward this side of the corridor, a wild look of wrath on his face that Fenrir met with his own. He opened his mouth to call out to the traitor, when sharp pain resonated in his loins. He brought down his head and met the eyes of his victim. The little bitch! The man's eyes pulsed darkness and wrath. He will pay dearly for that! He lifted his arm and brought it down on the man's face, feeling the bones of his cheek crack under the force of his blow. He snarled and leaned for those piercing eyes-
"Dumbledore's here!" someone shouted and Fenrir screamed in frustration. He only had started with this toy. But he would find him again. He would finish this. But for now...
For now, wherever Dumbledore was, so too would be the enticing flesh of young Harry Potter...