Werewolves

Lucius awoke on the bitterly frigid, unyielding flagstones in his own dungeons. He thought that rather ironic as he groaned, lifting his head and shaking it to remove some of the lingering fogginess within. His stomach clenched in warning at his vigorous head shaking, and he willed himself to take deep, even breaths as he kept his eyes closed until the queasiness passed.

He had known he would pay for the Mudblood's error, but he had miscalculated just how badly. His anger welled up inside him now, like a finely woven tendril, waiting to snap. He hated to be made to look like a fool in front of his Lord, especially as the stupid Mudblood watched on as he received his reprimand.

Opening his eyes, he took in the scene before him, his vision blurry and every muscle in his body protesting as he made his way into an upright position. Lifting a trembling hand, he Summoned his cane, which was lying a few metres to his left where he had dropped it when his Lord had cast the first of many Cruciatus Curses.

Pushing himself up on unsteady legs and a body that was currently unwilling to cooperate with his mental desires, he leant heavily on his cane. Looking over towards the cot where he had last seen his slave, he witnessed her staring at him; well, not exactly at him, more like through him. The blank look on her face only incensed him further, and the tendril that held his finely wound anger together snapped.

Stumbling over to her, he balled his left hand into a fist and punched the Mudblood with all of his strength right in the mouth.

"Whore," he yelled as she fell sideways off the cot, landing on the stone floor with an almighty thump as his own body convulsed with rage. When she looked up at him, he saw the blood streaming from her open mouth; one of her upper teeth was missing.

Insane gleam in his eye, he separated his wand from the housing and lifted it, with a barely waving arm, towards the back wall and watched the stones dissolve. Feeling his power over his slave infusing his limbs with a newfound strength, he strode over to pick up what looked like a pair of pliers.

Coming back to stand before the Mudblood who had caused him so much agony, he spoke abruptly.

"Stand up, you piece of filth," he spat, and he watched as the magical collar made her comply. Her limbs were unbalanced as she stood up from the floor.

She looked a right mess. Blood was dribbling down her chin at a steady rate and coating the collar and her breasts. One glance at her face told him that she was in immense pain, although she made no sounds to indicate this fact.

He pushed her back onto the cot; she made no effort to thwart him. Growling, he threw his wand onto the floor; it bounced once before seeking out the housing and flying to stand neatly against the wall at the foot of the cot.

Grabbing her cheeks with his left hand, the pliers in his right, he snaked his legs between hers, his right knee pushed up against her sex as his left knee came down on her abdomen, near her diaphragm.

All the air rushed out of her body, and she was having trouble breathing as she sucked in lungful after lungful of air. His left hand was pushing her cheeks together hard enough for her molars to cut into the insides of her cheeks, but still she made no move to dislodge him or resist his violent handling of her person.

Bringing up the pliers towards her mouth, he clamped down on her remaining front upper tooth and pulled. The sickening yank as it popped out of her mouth was exhilarating and spurred him onwards into a heady frenzy.

He discarded the tooth with a flick, and it clicked onto the stones and bounced off the wall, trailing blood in its wake. He brought the tool back down towards her mouth and again and again he worked at pulling each of her remaining teeth out one by one until the blood was flowing copiously from her mouth, and she was fighting hard not to choke as it flowed down her throat. She made little whimpering noises, and her eyes were filled with tears which flowed down her cheeks, mixing with the blood and mucus from her nose.

He leant back and took in his handiwork. Her chin and breasts were covered completely in blood, and he smeared it all around. Beautiful.

A simple spell, and all of her teeth were replaced. The blood that was covering her face, breasts and the metal collar had vanished.

Her fingernails and toenails were next, and he watched her squirm as he took to them with the meticulousness of a man who had practised this particular form of torture many times before. However, he had to replace them too, lest she bleed out on him. It was extremely satisfying, but it wasn't sufficient to meet his needs.

What is the purpose of having a slave if I can't mark her as my own?

It was true that she would follow his commands now, as the magic within the collar commanded her to do so. He had gleaned that much from his Master before the first curse hit him. She would be compelled to do his bidding and that of the Dark Lord and any of his subordinates, but only those with the Dark Mark would ever have the right to bend Harry Potter's Mudblood friend to obey their orders.

A laugh thundered its way shamelessly up his throat, like a wave crashing against the shore, and he allowed it to hit the stones surrounding him. The rich sound of his maniacal laughter filled the chamber as his magic continued to thrum through him, taking on a life of its own as it danced through his veins and out of his fingertips.

A thought popped into his mind, and he knew what he had to do. Flipping his slave onto her stomach, he Summoned his wand, sending the pliers back to the chamber and closing the bricks, turning the wall back to its previous state. He held her face down on the thin straw-filled mattress with a hand shoved between her shoulder blades.

"Flagrate," he whispered excitedly into the dimly lit chamber and he brought his wand, its tip now glowing red hot, to hover before the small of her back. He felt her tense up underneath his hand as his wand came into contact with her skin, and he wrote his initials, LM, on her back in his precise script.

His pants were too tight, his rigid member straining to get out. Dropping his wand, he undid his trousers in a frenzy and thrust into her dry passage. He plunged into her violently, rubbing his new symbol of ownership sadistically with his stomach. He felt the first tingling of his impending orgasm, and he pulled out of her and fisted his cock until he spurted his semen all over her back. He swiftly Summoned his wand and made a slice to his left palm, watching as the blood dripped onto her back to mingle with his sweat and semen. Closing the wound to his palm, he placed his wand on the mattress beside her and used both hands to smear his semen and blood into the mark.

She whimpered as soon as his hand made contact with her damaged skin; he knew it must be exquisite torture, not being able to fight back, and his magic flared up again. He would not treat the bubbling blisters that were now rising on her back but force her to suffer as he had suffered under the wand of his Lord.

He became aware that the metal collar was glowing a reddish colour. Fascinating, his mind supplied in awe as he reached out to touch it, quickly pulling his hand back as he felt a sharp jolt work its way through his fingertips. Apprehensively, he reached over again and pressed his palm to the red-glowing piece of metal.

He felt the surge of magic rolling from the metal into his hands, and he drank it in, feeling his muscles begin to relax and cease their shaking.

Lucius finally let go of the metal collar and stumbled back a few paces, staring at his hands.

What was that? he asked himself as he felt the magic shift around his body before finally settling in the pit of his stomach.

He looked up then and saw that his slave had not moved from her previous position, with her arse still in the air.

"Sit up," he ordered, in a voice filled with power. She complied immediately, turning to face him.

"What did you just do to me?" he asked, his eyes opened wide in awe, before taking a small step towards her.

'I didn't do anything, Master.' He heard the voice enter his mind as though she had spoken it aloud, although her mouth did not move.

Narrowing his eyes, he marched the few paces towards her, and his right hand shot out like a snake striking and squeezed her cheeks together while forcing her eyes to meet his.

"What did you just say?" he asked, this time paying particular attention to her mouth and tongue as she answered him.

'I said that I did nothing, Master,' she repeated, neither her mouth nor her tongue moving. Her unblinking eyes were firmly fixed on his chin.

He pushed her away brutally then, raising up his hand to strike her once more, but his hand stilled mere centimetres before it made impact. Perhaps she was telling the truth and did not know what she had done.

His hand dropped heavily to his side as he stood. He needed a brandy. He would lock himself up in his study, where he wouldn't be bothered, and contemplate just what his Lord had neglected to tell him about the magical properties of the metal collar now adorning the Mudblood neck.

***

Remus stood surveying the dense forest in the Scottish Highlands. He had been sent there by the headmaster to discover if the werewolves would join the side of light. He knew there were werewolves in this area; he could smell them. It was just two days away from the full moon, and his senses of smell, sight and hearing were greatly enhanced.

Although he was weary and definitely smelt horrendous, he made his way slowly to the north, pausing when he came across a cave that was well hidden in the foliage. Straightening up, he sniffed the air and got a whiff of the pungent smell emitted only by those of his own kind; the ones with his affliction.

Cautiously, he walked on to the cave's mouth, stopping before actually entering and encroaching on the other werewolves' territory.

Sensing he had been heard, he waited in the open, palms held facing the cave, showing these werewolves that he meant them no harm, as he was unarmed.

Slinking out of the cave's mouth came three males in formation. Remus eyed them warily, but he stood stock still, waiting for them to make the first move.

The one in the centre and slightly ahead of the others was clearly the alpha male. He spoke in a harsh voice.

"What do you want?" he growled as he came to a halt mere metres from Remus.

His hair was a shaggy brown, and he looked a little malnourished; his clothes were but torn rags that hung limply from his frame. A quick glance at the other two werewolves showed that they were in even worse condition than the alpha, and Remus cringed inwardly at the sight of the three of them standing tall, but looking for the entire world as though a breeze would knock them all over.

"I have come to offer you my assistance," Remus replied, still not moving a muscle.

The alpha werewolf bit out a harsh laugh, cocking his head slightly to the side as if weighing up the intruder.

"And what could you possibly offer us that we don't already have here?" he replied, making a show with his arms to encompass the entire area surrounding himself. "We have shelter," he said, flicking his head back to the cave's mouth, "all the food we could hope for, and no one bothers us this far north. So again I ask, what could you possibly offer us that we haven't already got?"

"Wolfsbane," came Remus' reply, and the three werewolves' eyes widened. The two behind the alpha took an uncertain half-step backwards.

"And what good would that be to us?" barked the leader once more, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "We actually like the beast that consumes us at every full moon."

"But it would stop you from destroying innocent lives," Remus said, his tone even as his hands dropped to his side, making the two werewolves standing behind the alpha jump slightly in wariness.

"And why, pray tell, would I want that?" the alpha replied. He leant forward as though challenging Remus.

"You can't tell me you actually enjoy hurting innocent people?" Remus raised his eyebrows in a questioning manner as the alpha sneered at him.

"What I enjoy is none of your business; go back to your kind and leave us alone."

With that he turned his back on Remus as he felt no threat coming from him. His two lieutenants stood their ground as though weighing up the options of the Wolfsbane potion. They had heard that the transformation affected them less with the potion. They were both willing to try it but would not stand up to their alpha's wrath.

One of the men broke away at a trot, following the alpha back to the cave's mouth.

"Wait, Angus," he said, laying his hand on the alpha's shoulder.

With lightning quick reflexes, Angus had laid the werewolf on his back, his teeth bared at his throat as he growled out his warning.

"Don't you ever lay a hand on me, Laden," he snarled.

Laden offered up his neck to the alpha, showing him a level of trust that Remus had never seen before as Angus continued to pin him to the ground, teeth bared at his throat.

"Gentlemen." Remus spoke to break the tension. It worked, as Angus looked up at him. "All I ask is for you to hear me out and then decide for yourselves whether or not you want my assistance in procuring the Wolfsbane potion for you."

Remus discerned the fact that he had to tread carefully, as the tension in the air was high, with the impending Full Moon. He knew that he could probably take out Angus and thus become the new alpha, but he wanted to see if he could resolve this peacefully and with little bloodshed. The gods knew he had seen enough bloodshed and devastation in the past to last him several lifetimes.

Angus growled as he rose back to the upright position, with Laden staying put on the ground, his throat still bared and his eyes closed.

Striding over to where Remus was standing his ground, Angus snarled, "Give me one hour; I shall speak to the others within my pack, and then we shall talk, just the two of us," he said, his eyes flicking back to Laden, who was still lying motionless on the ground. Facing Remus once more, he spat, "One hour."

And with that he marched back to the cave's mouth, eyes straight ahead, not even bothering to look at the werewolf that was still on the ground, and disappeared from sight. The other man ambled over to his fallen comrade and bent over to give him his arm, which he willingly took. Not sparing another glance at Remus, they both disappeared into the cave.

Well that went better than expected, thought Remus as he ran a shaking hand through his hair and took a seat on the rocks surrounding the cave, prepared to wait the hour the alpha had stipulated.

***

Harry was bent down in the dungeon passageway, digging through his bag to find his latest N.E.W.T. level assignment for Potions. It was his very last one too, and he had breathed out a sigh of relief upon finishing it late last night. He was sure Professor Snape would ask for it as soon as they entered the classroom, and heaven help the poor sap who didn't have it ready for collection.

It would be right down the bottom, he thought as he lifted out the contents of his bag and groaned.

Harry was the only one in his year of Gryffindors who was taking N.E.W.T. level Potions and had to be constantly on his guard. He was in the Slytherin's territory, and any number of hexes and curses could come his way, with no one to watch his back. The others, except for Hermione, who was no longer here, had opted not to take the gruelling class.

With N.E.W.T.s being a scant three weeks away, there wasn't even a spare moment for flying. Oh, how Harry wished Hermione was here; she would be the one giving Ron and himself their own personal study schedules and nagging them to study more; she would also be able to look out for him in the snake pit. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs didn't want to get involved in petty political struggles between the Gryffindors and the Slytherins, and who could really blame them?

Ginny was a fair substitute, but she didn't compare to Hermione. The common room was mostly dedicated to those wishing to study for their N.E.W.T.s and O.W.L.s, and even the younger students understood the stress on the fifth- and seventh-years and steered clear of them.

The only time Harry could be himself, or so it seemed to him, was when he was alone with the Potions professor. But that too was study; even more important than the N.E.W.T.s.

But at the moment he had other things on his mind while he rifled through his bag. His previous lesson with Professor Snape was one of the thoughts spinning through his head as a smile played serenely across his features. He brought that memory to the forefront of his mind. He had finally been able to block the dark-haired wizard from his mind, and although he was drained once the lesson ended, he felt a sense of accomplishment.

Harry was so consumed with his own thoughts of the previous night's activities that he didn't notice Draco until it was too late and he was sprawled out face down on the dungeon floor. He felt warmth spreading upon his upper lip and, elevating his head, darted his tongue out automatically. His lip had a copper tang to it, and Harry surmised correctly that it was blood that was streaming from his nose. His glasses were broken and dangling from one ear.

Harry quickly shot up, wiped the dripping blood from his nose onto his sleeve and pushed his glasses back onto his nose as best he could. He looked around wildly for his attacker. That's when he saw him. Malfoy. He was leaning against the wall with a smug look on his face. Harry's hands clenched into fists as his blood boiled.

"What happened, Potter?" Draco asked, the sound of his voice grating on Harry's last nerve. "You trip?" Draco continued, smirking at him.

Harry, reacting automatically, reached for his wand, lifting up his eleven inches of Holly and phoenix feather baton and shouting out the first curse without thought.

"Furnunculus," he yelled, his voice echoing in the still dungeon corridors, the spell hitting Draco straight in the face.

Draco let out a girlish shriek as he covered his face with both his hands.

The other students were all staring at Harry as the Potions classroom door banged open and a very irate Professor Snape made his appearance.

"What is happening here?" he ground out through tightly clenched teeth. He took in the position of the Boy Wonder, blood slowly dribbling down his face from his nose, his glasses broken and his wand still pointed at a cowering Draco Malfoy, and he had to hide the smirk that threatened to materialise on his face.

"Answer me now!" he said, his voice booming in the quiet corridor.

Draco looked up then, dropping his hands from his face to show the ugly boils that were still erupting on his once-handsome features.

"He cursed me," Draco said in a whiny voice.

Severus spun to face Harry; internally, he was beaming at the boy, but outwardly, he wore a fierce scowl.

"Is this true, Miss Parkinson?" he asked, choosing the random Slytherin who was closest to Draco. Anyone who had heard that tone of voice from the Potions professor knew that Harry Potter was done for. The students shrank back a little, out of the firing line.

Pansy took a step closer to the tall, imposing wizard. "Yes, Draco and I were just discussing the latest Potions assignment that you had given us, sir, when out of nowhere, Potter – " she spat the name as she raised an accusing arm to point at Harry, "raised his wand and cursed poor Draco." She finished with a sob escaping her lips as she covered her mouth with her hand.

And I'm the Minister of Magic, Severus thought to himself.

"Draco," he said, flicking his gaze to rest on the spoilt child, "go to the hospital wing at once and let Madam Pomfrey take a look at you."

"Yes, sir," he replied before picking up his bag and heading off in the direction of the hospital wing.

Severus waited until he was gone before rounding on Harry.

When will he learn to choose his battles? Severus asked himself.

"Potter," he said with as much loathing as he could muster under the circumstances. Harry's head was raised, blood still oozing slowly from his nose, his ruined glasses hanging from his ears. "You will serve detention with me every night for a week, and I think a subtraction of fifty points should discourage this behaviour in the future. I thought you would have grown up by seventeen, but obviously that assumption does not apply to Gryffindors." Severus sneered at Harry as his mouth opened to retort.

Think, boy. Severus pushed the thought into Harry's head, and Harry's eyes widened for a second before he hung his head with a look of quiet resignation.

"Now, into class all of you, before I start deducting points," Severus boomed as everyone hastened into the classroom, leaving Harry alone in the corridor, stuffing his belongings into his bag.

Pansy, passing him, snickered behind her hand.

Harry looked up to see Severus waiting for him. As he got back to his feet and swung his schoolbag up to his shoulder, he felt his glasses rearrange themselves on his face. Reaching up a hand in shock, he felt that his glasses were no longer broken and his nose had stopped bleeding. The professor had a look of agitation on his face as Harry quickly scurried past him and into the classroom, taking his seat to the back of the room.

At least he now had the perfect reason to come down to the dungeons nightly. He'd never been caught, but it was only a matter of time, and now he'd no longer have to use his Invisibility Cloak to reach the dungeons undetected. He didn't consider himself to be any good at the cloak and dagger stuff; perhaps it was because he was a Gryffindor and rushed into battle without thinking about his actions beforehand.

The Professor had given him a perfect alibi as to why he would be in the dungeons at night. He wouldn't have to avoid the Slytherins, as they wouldn't dare taunt him or try to duel him whilst he was on his way to detention with their Head of House.

Thank you, Severus. Thank you. Harry acknowledged the Potions Master wordlessly within his own mind.

***

To my wonderful beta AmyLouise, thank you so very much for finding my mistakes and making my writing flow better. Love and hugs to you. I seriously don't know what I would do without you.

Reviews, as always, are appreciated.