The huge maw closes around flesh, squeezing only slowly, until pain and blood explode into little stars on Sirius' skin. It doesn't stay that way – teeth dig deeper until the skin gives way, and nothing can stop the sharp teeth from embedding themselves into his very bone. By then it is too late to fight for sure, not that he hasn't tried.
The beast won, and now he going to pay the price. He expects it to be ultimate, but instead the large wolf retreats, just holding him down, until the change takes him. Then suddenly it's no longer a grey wolf, holding him down, but an equally intimidating man.
“Greyback.” Sirius would cringe, if he could, but he is pinned and the grin of that bastard promises more violence.
“Oh, hello.” The eyes seem so genuinely amused, until one connects them with the demon-grin below. “So sorry I have to go now. See you soon.” He flashes another smile than simply stands up, patting himself down as if he wasn't naked, and as if he hadn't just turned Sirius.
Worst of all, he is right. He will see Sirius. Once his first moon draws near, where would he go? He has no choice.
“I'm going to kill you.” Sirius can hardly move; standing up is too difficult a task, so the threat makes Greyback only laugh harder.
“You are free to try, little dog. Or no more dog.” His mock-affectionate touch of Sirius sweat-covered face is even more embarrassing because the deepest, darkest part of Sirius' wounded soul wants to take it at face-value, wants to be wanted, wants to be accepted.
But he isn't that stupid. He pulls his face away and is grateful when Greyback catches the hint, leaving him behind on the leaf-covered ground, pretending he was at any freedom to go.
As the morning proceeds and the sun rises, Sirius finally makes it to his knees, then to his feet, and at long last home.
----
Blood is splattered on the bed and has stained the sheets, because Sirius hasn't bothered with dressing a wound. It looks like an accusation, if only because...
Sirius looks up, breathing heavily. “Looks like.. you'll never be alone again for the moon.” He is in pain, of course he is, but one can hardly tell. Over the years Remus has deciphered some of Sirius' body language, but even for him it is hard.
Narrowing the eyes and breathing deeply, trying to stay as still as possible... that is reserved only for the worst of situations, like that day when he took a Bludger to the ribs and broke six of them. “I will get you something.”
“You of all people should know...” Sirius closes his eyes with a quiet groan. “Very little helps against werewolf bites.”
Remus should be careful, but he can't help it. “Do you know who did it?”
Sirius sniffs, the jaw shuddering when pain and words interfere. “Him...”
“Himself?” Remus tries to remember Fenrir, his twinkling eyes that seem so harmless, his dark smile, the brutish built and the sharp mind hidden within. He probably thought it was an honour.
“Enjoyed himself, I'd say.” Sirius hisses. “Do you think...When will it stop?”
Remus has no good news for him, but over the years he has learned some things. He prepares chamomile tea, both for inside and outside use – a cool compress with it works wonder. He helps Sirius into a seat, so he can change the sheets. He dresses the wound. It looks only half as bad as his scars, but only because Sirius isn't growing into it. Fenrir surely hasn't gone soft on him.
Through all of this Remus can't stop wonder... why did he do it himself?
----
Running with Greyback's pack for the moon isn't half as bad as Sirius had thought. The bastard allows them, him and Remus to come late, even gives them some privacy to store their clothes. He eyes Sirius' strangely, but it's his first change. Maybe Fenrir has some strange ideas what to do. Not that Sirius has much of a choice. There is no other place where Remus and he could change. Not with no one watching them.
Here at least they will not be seen, not encounter any human being or cause any damage. Beyond that Sirius is to shaken to care. The bite has never fully healed, and just keeping his daily live has been a struggle, not even speaking of the war efforts. He managed, somehow, but he hopes he doesn't have to do it again. It's burning the candle from both ends.
He is conscious of the looks, when Remus leads him towards the pack, naked, because it doesn't pay to waste good clothes. But Remus reassures him with no more than a look. He might not be as wide as some of the werewolves, but he is in top shape. He won't get into trouble. Hopefully.
----
They have made it, much to Remus relief. Werewolves can be territorial; the potential of simply getting ripped apart because the pack doesn't accept strangers was non-zero.
Sirius looks better now, the bite retreated to a sharp raised scar and will haunt him no more than the rest of them. He is energetic, strong, he deals with it better than Remus ever did. Which is not a surprise. Sirius is at peace with himself, his monster under the bed has never been him. He even flirts, though not in earnest, there is only one person in his life now. But clearly he feels flattered by the looks people give him now, appreciative, envious.
Remus could watch him like that forever, knowing he is safe. No one will pick his brain, most spells will just splash off. Even with all the pain, isn't it a small price to pay?
Suddenly Fenrir is by his side, watching Sirius over his shoulder. “Does well, doesn't he?”
It gives Remus goosebumps. Fenrir's interest on anything is bad. On Sirius it is positively disturbing.
“Thing is... The Dark Lord wants him gone.” The werewolf, the nightmare of his darkest hours, looks surprisingly casual. “Make him stay.”
“What?” Remus turns, staring directly into the amber eyes that resemble his own to a disturbing degree.
“It is simple. He stays, he is safe. Like you wanted. I won't harm him, won't touch a hair on his head. But if he goes back into battle... who knows what will happen.” Carefully Fenrir leans in. “Besides. What do you think he would say, if he found out that you asked me to turn him? What would he say?”
Remus freezes. There is nothing he can answer, nothing to amend the situation.
“I see we understand each other. You behave, and we both keep what we want. Right?”
“Right...” Remus whispers. Apparently making deals with the devil is exactly as bad as people claim...