This Beautiful Mess

Remus didn’t always like full moons. Yes, they were always painful, uncomfortable and stressful but they also used to be fun and an opportunity for adventure and mischief. They used to only be the former. It had been some years since Remus had a Marauders full moon and he missed them in earnest.

To tell the truth, he missed a lot of things. And a lot of… people.

He awoke in the morning of the full to a dreary day. Out the window he could see fog and mist creep around the grass and the shrubbery near the forest's edge. The sky was a pale blue, wisps of cloud swirling. The sunlight feebly shone through the glass illuminating Remus and Sirius’ room.

Remus’ bones and skin were already itching. His muscles contracting and locking, preparing for the changes. There was immense pain in his back and a sore throbbing feeling in his jaw like new teeth were growing. All of these were the norm for the day of, but it didn’t stop them from being extremely uncomfortable.

At 7:30 in the evening, Remus and Sirius with a child each, travelled by floo to the Weasley’s home, the Burrow. By that time, the aches and pains were beginning to worsen. Remus forced himself back into the fireplace to avoid Molly’s concerned stares and the kids' curiosity. Remus collapsed into an armchair when he popped back out in Ludwig House. Harry had been particularly difficult to assure, near to tears when Remus had left.

Sirius appeared in the fireplace and stepped out.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, placing a hand on Remus’ shoulder.

Remus suppressed a growl of anger and discomfort. Instead, he managed a curt, “Bad.”

Sirius nodded sympathetically.

The two of them, arm in arm, made their way to the forest behind Ludwig House. They had decided at the last minute not to apparate to a more distant forest. The closer, the easier to get home without having Sirius drag his partner’s limp, torn body through either Muggle transport or having to support him through apparition, lest Remus splinch himself before transforming. It was easier to be closer to the house to ease the travelling pains and have closer access to medical supplies.

Even as they walked deep into the forest, Remus couldn’t help but feel anxious about turning. They were close to home, yes, but they were also close to the village. What if someone wanted to come for a moonlit stroll? What if someone got lost in the woods and bumped into a fully fledged werewolf? The ‘what ifs’ were too numerous.

“Maybe we should’ve apparated to Bedgebury.” Remus muttered under his breath.

“And risk you splinching yourself?” Sirius snorted, supporting Remus as they walked, “Not a chance. You know your magic is terrible during the full.”

Remus nodded. Sirius planted a kiss on his cheek, “Don’t worry, love. I’ve already set up barriers and perimeters. So unless someone has been here since this morning, you’ll be fine.”

They found themselves deep within the forest, where the tree canopy was so thick that they almost entirely blocked out the sky and the trunks became dense walls of wood. They walked a little further into a small clearing where they could see the sky, blue bleeding into a dark dusk.

“Here.” Sirius said, sitting Remus down next to a large oak, “This is the middle of my perimeters.”

“How wide do they spread?” Remus asked.

Remus could see Sirius thinking of a dirty joke but he said instead, “Almost this whole half of the forest, and a little way to the stream near the south.”

Remus nodded. He held his head in his hands; a splitting headache had begun. The changes were coming.

“It's only two hours till the moon is up.” Sirius said. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” Remus slurred through the pain. He clenched and unclenched his jaw.

The hour slogged on, and a half hour before the moon was bright and full, Remus removed his clothing, save his drawers for his modesty.

“This one is going to be terrible.” He told Sirius, watching the dark haired man fold his brown jumper, “I can tell.”

Sirius nodded sympathetically. He tucked the clothes in a dip under the roots of the tree, out of view and out of reach for a restless werewolf.

“Shall I turn now?” Sirius asked, “Or would you like me to talk to you?”

Remus rubbed his eyes, “You can turn.”

Sirius nodded and in an instant, he was no longer there. In his place was a large shaggy black dog. Padfoot laid his head on Remus’ lap who stroked his black fur absentmindedly.

Suddenly, above the trees, a cloud drifted past and like a curtain opening, the full moon was bright and glowing. Padfoot backed away from Remus, watching the man anxiously.

Remus gave a cry of pain as his body shifted, his face elongating into a snout, his hands and feet shrinking into claws and fur grew, instantaneously all over his body. Padfoot stepped back as a full grown werewolf transformed in Remus’ place.

As a wolf, Moony’s thoughts were simpler, if a bit more blunt and hungry. Moony shook himself, taking note of his surroundings. A large black dog bounded on him at once.

Padfoot?

Moony!

They fought and wrestled playfully, never drawing blood.

Noises and scents wafted through the forest, Moony could smell and hear everything. He could smell something with blood and flesh. Something fast and small.

Moony paused, just as Padfoot tried to tackle him again. Snouts rose in the air. The grey wolf licked its lips.

Food? Padfoot asked, cocking his head.

Hunt. Moony replied, baring his teeth and scrunching his nose.

They followed the scent for a while, Padfoot with his tail in the air, trotting after his friend happily. Eventually they came to a hilly part of the forest where the trees were more spread out. Moony sniffed around for the smell of beating hearts and pumping blood. There was a rabbit den around here somewhere, with a plump, juicy coney.

Padfoot bumped Moony with his shoulder, Play? He asked.

Hunt. Moony replied with a hungry sound. Hunt, kill.

Moony found the den eventually, he pawed at it, but it was too small. He inserted a paw and felt something move deeper into the burrow. Moony retracted himself and waited. Sure enough, a rabbit shot out of the den, leaping and bounding across the forest floor.

Chase! Moony growled, running after the rabbit.

Padfoot barked in response, following Moony.

Moony lept on the rabbit. It wriggled free. Padfoot blocked its way and it doubled back, right into Moony again. Moony snatched up the rabbit and cracked its neck with a simple snap. Warm metallic blood flooded his mouth and his senses. He bit the head off and chewed, pawing the rest of the rabbit to Padfoot.

Padfoot shook his head. Not hungry. He pawed the rabbit’s body back to Moony, Moony eat.

Moony happily accepted the rest of the tasty rabbit. Once he was done, his muzzle was smeared with blood.

Padfoot hopped around, wagging his tail, and barked, Play?

Moony barked back and they chased each other around the woods. Weaving through trees and tramping through the shrubs. Eventually, Moony caught Padfoot and bit him affectionately. Padfoot gave a fake cry. Moony barked in laughter.

They ran again. On and on through the endless woods. On and on to the forever. They climbed up broken logs and through gaps in the fern and bushes. They explored the lengths of the forest to the full. Moony howled to the moon. Padfoot’s voice joined his.

Moony hunted another rabbit and some other food. He was high on blood. It ignited his insides like nothing else. He wanted more. He needed more. Something bigger, something with more flesh.

They had reached a small stream where the two drank, lapping up cool water.

Play? Moony asked. Hunt?

Tired, Padfoot said.

Moony huffed. His friend had a smaller stamina than he. Moony could keep running and hunting for ages, for the whole rest of forever. Padfoot tired often. Internally, Moony wondered if his friend was getting old.

Moony slumped down on some moss, resting his eyes, but still training his ears on the sounds of the woods. Padfoot snuggled up to him, nuzzling Moony’s jaw.

Safe. Padfoot said, Moony and Padfoot safe.

Moony laid his head down, watching over Padfoot as he napped.

He listened to the sounds of the woods. He could hear an owl, hooting and another rabbit, not far off. He was still hungry, but another rabbit wouldn’t fix it.

Through the normal smells of the woods - of dirt and soil, leaf and woody bits - he could smell something else. Something large and… and full of flesh. Something that made him hunger for killing.

Man.

Man was walking through the woods. Moony perked up, lifting his head. Padfoot shifted a little, but did not awake.

Moony had never tasted Man. He had come close to that delicious, lustful blood and flesh. He had almost split and drank and ripped and tore all of it. But he hadn’t. And he wanted to. Killing and eating, feasting on Man was the only thing that Moony wanted. He needed it.

Moony got up, leaving Padfoot’s side. Padfoot shifted and stirred.

Leaving? Padfoot asked, sitting up. Then he sniffed the air.

Something primal and violent had changed in Moony. His friend had that hungry look in his eyes. Padfoot sniffed the air. He sensed it.

Hunting. Moony replied, running off.

Padfoot bounded after him, No!

But Moony was already off, following his nose. Man was close. There was a lot of Man too. Three of them. Enough to cure his hunger. Enough to eat and savour.

Padfoot was running after him, barking No! No!

Moony didn’t care. He wanted to taste Man. He wanted to see if the blood was any thicker, any sweeter. Padfoot had to wait.

The black dog had caught up, No, Moony! Not Man! Moony no eat Man!

Shut up! Moony growled dangerously. Moony hunt. Kill!

No! Padfoot lept on him, dragging him away by the scruff of his neck.

Off! No play! Moony barked, fighting back.

They were locked in battle. Moony fought ferociously, not remembering that it was his friend, his mate that he was fighting. Padfoot was in his way. Moony was going to eat Man. This small mutt couldn’t stop him.

Padfoot held back as they fought, trying not to hurt Moony, but as Moony raged, the dog became desperate.

No, Moony! Padfoot whined as Moony tried to slash at him with his claws, Padfoot friend! Moony friend! Moony stay with Padfoot.

Padfoot shut up! Moony barked, Padfoot leave Moony to hunt!

Moony slammed Padfoot into a tree. The dog whined in pain. He’d be fine, Moony assured himself. He ran off to follow the smell of Man again.

The smell was stronger. It was closer. He could almost taste the blood. He bounded through a thicket and then slowed to a trot. He couldn’t risk spooking the prey. Man was stupid. Man would call for more Man and those Man might kill Moony. Too many Man and Moony would have to abandon the hunt. 

Voices of man wafted through the air. Moony thought some part of him could sense what they were saying, but he shook his head. No. Moony kill.

He stalked through the undergrowth, weaving strategically around the trees. There were three Man there, around an orange glowy thing. They were puffing smoke into the air that made it hard for Moony to concentrate. The smoke was thick and made him want to sneeze or sleep or both.

These Man was smaller than other Man Moony had seen. They were lankier. They were only pups, maybe just got out of mothers den. Moony didn’t know. He didn’t care. All he wanted was blood.

One of the Man stopped talking and looked to the bushes where Moony was hiding. He could see Moony. Moony was very close.

The Man spoke to his friends, pointing at the bushes. They stood. Moony could sense their heart beat speed up. More blood. More blood for the wolf.

There was a bark behind the wolf who looked back to see the great black dog running at him.

The Mans panicked. It was now or never, they were going to run.

Moony leapt into the clearing. They backed up. The wolf growled.

One of them was quick, taking a stick with orange glowy on it. Stupid. What was orange glowy going to do?

They waved it and Moony felt hot.

They struck it at the wolf. It burnt! Moony howled in pain.

Hot! Hot! He cried into the air.

Moony no hunt Man! Padfoot cried, pulling Moony away.

Moony shook him off, Leave!

The prey were running into the forest. They were yelling and causing noise. Moony wanted them to shut up. He wanted to eat them.

Moony ran after the Mans. They were fast but not enough.

Padfoot chased after Moony, howling in despair. Moony didn’t care, he couldn’t. Man was right there. Man with tasty blood. Blood that hadn’t yet been spilled. Moony wanted to eat. He wanted to hunt.

The Mans disappeared behind a crumbling log, running and yelling at the top of their lungs. Moony leaped over the log and found them walled off in a ditch. They were making so much noise. No matter, they were about to be silenced.

Moony growled, hackles raised, licking his teeth. He had them. He finally had them.

Suddenly, a large heavy branch snapped off a tree above. With a crack, it fell. It landed right on top of Moony, trapping him in a kind of cage. Moony yelped in surprise.

The Mans squealed and seized their opportunity, turning and scrambling up the ditch and ran away, voices echoing into the night.

Moony yowled, throwing himself at the branches. Something funny was going on, they wouldn’t move or budge. He slashed at them with his claws but made no mark.

He spat and hissed, snarling in rage. He could smell Mans blood but they were getting further away. He sniffed and found a familiar smell. Padfoot was nearby. 

Right on cue, the dog padded out from behind, coming in front of the trapped wolf. He said nothing but slumped in front of the cage of branches.

Moony tried to paw at him from inside the cage.

Padfoot help Moony? Moony asked with a whine, Moony stuck.

Moony no stay. Moony no listen to Padfoot. Padfoot huffed back. Padfoot and Moony friends. No fight.

It was then that Moony saw the red wound across Padfoot's back as the dog lay sulkily. Bits of bark stuck out of it. It must’ve been when Padfoot was slammed into the tree.

Moony laid down too. He didn’t even try to dig out. Somehow, Padfoot being angry at him was worse than the cage (though not yet worse than the biting hunger of blood).

The moon was fading behind trees. Moony felt tired. So tired. Maybe he’d just take a nap… Just a small one.

–

The sun rose, golden orange light flickering through the trees. Remus was awake. He stirred, stretching, finding himself back next to the oak tree. A blanket and Sirius’ leather jacket was draped over him. Sirius was next to him, shirtless and trying in vain to reach the large wound on his back.

“Love?” Remus asked, touching him gently.

Sirius turned, smiling at him, “Morning, sleepy-wolf.”

Remus took stock of his pains. There were cuts all over his body, most of them small, the largest one around his neck and arms. Sirius only had one serious wound on his back. Pieces of bark were stuck to it.

“Did… did I do that?” Remus asked.

“Smashed me into a tree.” Sirius said, “I was trying to stop you from getting to these three teenagers having a smoke in the woods. They must’ve camped out. Dunno how I missed them, honestly.”

“Not your fault,” said Remus, moving himself as to help Sirius with his bark problem. He removed the pieces of wood gently. The wound was just a nasty scrape, not deep or bloody. Remus sighed, kissing Sirius on the neck, “I’m sorry.”

Remus hugged Sirius around the neck. Sirius reached backwards.

“Don’t be sorry, Re. You couldn’t’ve helped it.” Sirius kissed Remus’s arms.

Remus slipped away from Sirius’ neck and found his wand from under the tree root, tucked away in his jumper. He muttered, “Sana velox.” pointing the wand at Sirius’ cut. The wound disappeared, only a faint pinkness to where it once was.

“Home?” Sirius asked.

“That sounds nice.”