Disclaimer: I still own my stuff, Rowling still owns all the rest of it. In the unlikely event this ever gives me any money, everything belonging to her will have to part ways with everything belonging to me. Back in the real world, of er, fanfiction...shall we just get on with the story ;)
Note: This chapter gives parts of the previous scene from the Wolf's perspective.
Between Worlds -
Bones for the Beast
The werewolf knew the scent of this man very well, he smelled like pack, but also like prey. It confused the beast’s mind and his growl changed to one of query, then back to a growl again.
The human threw meat to the wolf. It was prey meat, clear and simple prey, without the scent of pack to confuse him. He sniffed at it cautiously. Dead meat.
Where was the warm dripping life his throat craved?
The meat was at least fresh. It satisfied his need to chew and rip at something. The wolf's rage calmed. The prey meat slid down his throat and started to fill the cavernous emptiness of his belly. He chewed and swallowed and chewed and swallowed until there was nothing but bone left. Then his tongue scrapped the bone for scraps, chewing on it brought contentment but his puppy jaws, while dangerous, were not strong enough to reach the tantalizing marrow within. He needed to run in the moonlight, to chase and hunt and rip and consume his prey.
He threw himself against, the chains straining then whimpering when the silver brushed his vulnerable paw. The human voice spoke, firmly but soothingly at him. After long moments of pain and rage he understood that somehow lying down would take the pain away. He lay down still growling and licked his injured paw, he could taste some of his own blood and began worrying at the injured paw with his teeth.
The pack-man spoke sharply almost like a growl. The wolf whimpered, then growled back.
He looked at the human pleadingly. More meat, so hungry, must chew. Paw hurts, He tried to add, almost as an afterthought
The human vanished for a moment making odd whimpering sounds to himself, and the wolf howled, feeling abandoned. Where was pack-man, where was meat-giver? He was so hungry.
There was no meat left, only empty bones. Each time meat-giver left, the wolf eventually understood, pack-man would return with more meat. And so hours passed, the wolf found himself, no longer ravenous, but almost content. The meat filled his stomach, the blood covered his lips, and when the urge to chew struck there were plenty of bones to chew on. Still he could not run, or feel the moonlight on his skin, and these were things the wolf longed for.
He rolled a well chewed bone in the man's direction hoping meat-giver would understand what the wolf most wanted. Open bone, want marrow. He whimpered chewing frantically at another bone to demonstrate the problem.
The human cautiously took the bone, watching the wolf for any signs of impending attack.
The wolf gave a happy bark.
At last the pack-man seemed to understand, using a rock to accomplish what puppy jaws could not, and rolled the sweet marrow back to his son.
The wolf wagged his tail. Marrow taste very good
The werewolf puppy was as close to content, as a cruelly chained canine, with murderous appetites, and a human soul could manage. The chains that held it still burned, but the human it refused to attack, had put cloth between the burning metal, and the puppy’s vulnerable flesh, so that only bits and pieces of it touched him. When they did, he yelped in pain, growling and whimpering at the same time. The pain brought with it a murderous rage and the puppy hurt itself worse as it moved without care for its bonds. When this happened the man would talk slowly to him from his unreachable spot across the room, until the puppy calmed and lay down again. Sometimes if the wolf was exceptionally placid, the meat-giver would carefully adjust the cushioning on his restraints or even rub the wolf’s fur for just a moment, until a warning growl sent him away.
Hours passed like this, until suddenly the wolf began to feel rather dizzy and all his senses became unstable. He whined low in his throat and shook his shaggy head but the odd feeling soon returned. He whimpered at the meat-giver but refused more food, it smelled funny now. Feeling ill, the puppy pushed even the bones away and whimpered some more. There were random flashes of color in his black and white world and a terrible weakness in his limbs. He felt hot, his mouth was dry, his head hurt, his teeth hurt, his paws, his eyes, his ears. The werewolf began trembling uncontrollably, his skin twitching, his muscles quivering. He rolled over on his side panting heavily with his dry tongue lolling out of his mouth
The puppy growled-half heartedly, as the pack-man approached, no longer having the energy to be fierce. He wanted only comfort now.
The man spoke to him again in that calm, gentle voice. He rubbed the wolf's aching limbs, patted his burning fur, and dribbled water down his dry throat. He soothed the confused, suffering, beast while the aches became agony and the trembling became convultions. Finally at the last, when his consciousness was fading the wolf, the boy, finally understood.
"I love you son," The pack-man said, his father was the pack-man. "I love you, Remus." His name was Remus, and this was his father.
"Dad," he croaked, before the world went black.
------------To be Continued----------------
I've debated back and forth about whether John Lupin would risk getting within biting distance of Remus, before he starts changing back. I finally decided to leave that part in and let the readers decide what they thought of it. All reviews are greatly appreciated.
Thanks again to bluemoon/shivy for betareading
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