Primal rage
Monday 28:th February 1972
His head thudded. Anger, vicious and ugly flowed in his veins. Hot as fire.
This was not the day to argue with his friends. He didn’t want to hurt them really. Only now every instinct roared at him to rip them to shreds. Tear them apart limb from limb, thought from thought. Extinguish the annoyance.
Red was blaring in his vision. Kill kill killechoed in his head. Like a chant egging him on.
It was the beat in his hard, quick and violent heart.
“You can’t just bail to Merlin knows where without telling us!” Sirius exclaimed.
“Yeah we were worried sick” Peter’s eyes were wide.
Like a fretting mother. Or a scared child. Pathetic. He wanted to roar the words at him. Hit home. Destroy what he knew was his weakest point. Knew he was insecure and felt weak. Felt he was worth nothing. That everyone thought him whiny and a nobody. He wanted to use that. Wanted to tell him the only person who did or would ever love him was his mother.
Use all that he knew against him. Destroy him. Just for being so damn annoying. Setting his teeth grinding. He wanted to tell him that he was right.
That he was nothing and no-one would ever truly love him. He’d always be the last choice, even among the people he counted highest on his list. That he’d never be as talented nor as clever nor as good as any of them.
He clenched his teeth on the impulse. Tried to bite down on the vicious beast trying to rise within him. It wasn’t true nor kind. It was just the words he’d need to strike him down.
His problem, or one of many, was that he was observant. He noticed everything. And the -thing- wolf harboured it like a squirrel with an acorn. Waiting for the moment to use it like a gleaming sharp dagger, twisting it in a bleeding heart.
He had noticed how he smiled whenever someone even noticed him. How he tried so so hard for everyone to like him. The panic when he failed to grasp a spell they had already mastered. That sadness he tried to hide whenever he’d been forgotten. Or when a project only needed three and he was excluded. He didn’t forget him though.
It was him and Peter. The secondary marauders. He couldn’t strike. He wouldn’t do it.
Peter just showed he cared. It wasn’t fair to attack him. Break him even more than he could with fists, which he was very capable at too.
“Where the bloody fuck were you?!” Sirius exclaimed.
The insults roared again. Just those words that would cut the deepest. Slice him apart. How he sounded like a mad parent but he wouldn’t know anything about that as his own parents loathed him. That the closest thing to parental love he’d experienced was that from James’s mother. How he understood why his own family didn’t want him. Never minding his own business. A walking mess. That it wasn’t any of his fucking business and that maybe he should deal with his own shit.
Stuff that would end their friendship. The most important thing in his life. It was so ugly it made the human part of him want to curl up and die from guilt. Just for thinking it. Not that the wolf cared about things like friends. It only cared about creating a hurt so deep it could drink its blood forever. Crunch on bone.
His nails dug into his palms as he clenched his hands into fists.
Blood was pounding in his head. The chant echoing, driving him mad. He was dizzy, the rage was so overwhelming. The anger wasn’t only his own. It was a primal fury. Stronger than his mind. Stretching under his skin. Razor sharp claws teasing against his brittle bones.
His magic was a roaring blazing fire in his veins. Making invisible sparks ignite at his finger tips. His magic was an endless well, fueled by the moon, his battery so to speak. It urged him to use it. It wanted to use him. To be set free and electrify the world. Ruin this room. Break furniture and spines. Claw and scratch.
He could hear their heartbeats even louder than usual. Scent their feelings. That anger, like burnt rubber and smoke. Angry he disappeared an entire night and didn’t tell them where he was.
They had this discussion quite often. He felt it sounded too suspicious to use the same reason every month so sometimes he just vanished. The previous night however had been a walk. Not the transformation.
The days prior restless energy was surging through him. It was physical discomfort to not move. And he thought it the perfect chance to continue working on his map. His secret map. He’d not even told the others about it.
The entirety of Hogwarts was on it. He’d found it annoying how there was no real map of it. Maybe it was implottable but that surely wasn’t the case since he could draw it. It was an embarrassing hobby, one he didn’t fancy telling the others about.
And also he loathed that they felt they deserved to know his location. He wasn’t their pet. Wasn’t anyones pet project. He didn’t demand to know where they were all the time.
“Got to go. Headache” he gritted out and turned to leave, slamming the door behind him. The sound reverberated inside his skull.
He always had extra strong senses but it was worse close to the moon. Usually he did his best to tune them out. He saw every detail, in every picture. Heard every little sound, the beating of hearts, the breathing, blinks. A mosquito sucking blood. That of a soft breeze ruffling a leaf. Everything. He sensed everything.
But during the moon it was as if the volume turned up a notch. He couldn’t tune it out. It was like having a constant swarm of bees around his head. Buzzing in his ears. Needles of sound reverberated in his eardrums.
It was even worse after a full moon, when he was too weak to cope. Then every sound was agony. It pierced his skull. Every sight stung his eyes. And the smells were almost worst because he could smell absolutely everything. From lingering scents and feelings to just about everything. It made his nose burn.
He had to go to the hospital wing before he permanently wrecked his friendships. The wolf wouldn’t be pleased. It would probably rip him to shreds just for the audacity to not hand over the control. Would probably fight him every step of the way.
With a sigh, he entered the hospital wing.