Silver Bullets // Wolfstar AU

FLOWER MOON and the following consequences

Last full chapter! Just the epilogue after this...

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THE BATTLEFIELD

#179

A hundred transforming werewolves, concealed by the foliage, and the Order trapped in the middle, slowly spreading their troops to surround the house of Damocles Belby in a protective ring. Surely the potioneer must have noticed something by now?

As they transformed, the shrieks echoed through the night. It was June, and the early summer evening still held a phantom of warmth from the day. A distant birdcall was cut off as Fenrir Greyback, in all his glory as a wolf, howled at the rising moon.

Remus writhed next to Sirius, his body already wolfish, only his soft amber eyes recognisable.

Silence once it was over. Nothing but the soft crunch of boots on the dry grass and the heavy breath of the Order members, who looked around themselves with fear tangled in their scents.

Remus stood on shaky legs, the pull of the moon searing through his veins.

And-oh. A human, so, so close. In fact, the human's legs, encased in tight jeans, were very, very close. The smell of his blood and his sweat was overpowering and so, so tempting. Something made him want to make this particular human his, to mark him, to own him, to taste him and savour him like a delicacy.

Remus growled deep in his throat.

Sirius, heart pounding, backed away, wand raised and pointing towards the approaching werewolf, who owned a rack of knives in his mouth.

Remus, a string of drool dripping from his jaws, stepped forward. Sirius leapt back. The wolf's eyes were glowing pits of fire, his teeth bared, his growl like rain on a tin roof. Remus stalked closer and closer until Sirius, wand quivering in his hand, had to look away.

"Moony," he whispered, voice raw, eyelids fluttering shut through fear.

The werewolf paused.

"Moony, please. I am not your enemy." He drew in a breath. "Remus."

Just as he finished his plead, there was a harsh crack followed by a series of identical sounds, and soon the air was awash with inky black smoke. Figures in pointed hoods and silver masks apparated onto the battlefield, standing around the perimeter.

As Sirius turned to look, he saw the other wolves had broken the treeline and were closing in, each with canine grins of their own. Even Remus was distracted, nose held high to sniff the air.

It had begun.

The air fizzed with residual magic. Moody slammed his cane into the ground and the entire clearing shook. As a new chorus of howls began, more birds flew from the trees until the area was devoid of life. Devoid of witnesses. The fighters were alone.

The werewolves charged forwards first, wind rippling their fur, and the small group of Order members barely avoided their gnashing teeth, casting incarcerous and immobulus left and right. Spells flew from the still far-off ring of Death Eaters, and these were nasty hexes and jinxes that would make any wizard wince. A red light flew at Sirius and he barely blocked it with a hasty protego, spinning to see his adversary.