The Beast Within

She was a red rimmed, featureless form, barely the shape of a woman.

Remus stared at her through the glass, holding it up to eye level to get the most of the morning sunlight. He had already studied the wine as best he could with his preternatural senses alone. It seemed safe enough, but he was hesitant to take a sip or allow Ginny a drink. In fact, he was stalled to even lower the glass, content in being able to focus on the figure through the dark liquid without her knowledge.

"Well?" she asked.

The werewolf shook himself loose from his thoughts, bending down to sit the base of the glass on a level stone. He stepped around it, careful not to tip it over, and made his way back to the cot.

"Miss Weasley, will I have to tell your mother how anxious you were to take a sip out of Lord Voldemort's keg?" Lupin asked, a small smile on his face.

Ginny frowned up at him, a glare of distaste piercing his attempt at badly placed humor. "It has to be better than that filth they call water," she stated, nodding her head in the direction of a bowl at one corner of the room.

"I almost mistook it for the waste bucket myself," Lupin agreed, "but you should not be willing to take whatever's given to you. Usually a gift from one's enemy is not good for one's health."

The young witch rolled her eyes, slouching back. "And what's it going to do, Professor? Kill me? That seems a bit pointless."

"You're right, of course." Remus leaned forward, elbows balanced on his knees. "They expect you to be dead at nightfall." He didn't bother to look back at her. "So, obviously, you're not going to die of dehydration by then. Stay out of the wine, Ginerva."

He heard her sigh, and it rattled his bones. Honestly, Remus was happy that she could even allow herself to feel aggravation at such a time. For his light mood, he was dying on the inside, choking himself to stop the misery he felt from showing.

Don't let her see, Remus. Don't let her see what they've done to your spirit, man! Don't let her see what the beast does to you every month. . . .If she sees, she'll be afraid, just like your pretty Nymph.

Remus closed his eyes, his body tightening. And then the wolf let out a vicious howl, snapping at the darkness within. The wizard looked up, just in time to see a spell hurling toward him.

He took it in the chest, falling down toward the stone floor, entirely paralyzed. Remus's body might have frozen, but the wolf was still baring fang and claw, scratching under the spell's fence for a way out.

Ginny screamed, and the man and beast stopped struggling as one to hear her.

Lupin could see what was right in front of him.

Death Eaters entered the cage. Ginny ran toward the first, ignoring the villain's wand and throwing her fist into his mask. (The wolf bounced as playfully as a pup, watching through the man's windows.) He stumbled back at the blow, but she didn't have time to run past him. Another was there, grabbing her arm. The one she'd hit snatched up the other, twisting it until she cried out.

The young witch fell to her knees, one at a time, staring up at the two Death Eaters entering the cage with an ugly grimace that didn't belong on such a porcelain face. She didn't know what was in the cauldron they levitated before them but, nevertheless, a deep, guttural groan of anguish escaped from her bite-red lips.

Remus knew. And panic surged in him. Already a wave, it turned into a tsunami. Though he couldn't move to even see the vat, he could smell a scent that was to him as sweet as nectar, as controlling as lust. It was blood. And it was fresh. The smell of spilt life swam through him, wrapping warm fingers around his frozen form from the inside out. Automatically, he recognized it to be a mix. It was, perhaps, ninety-five percent pig . . . no, boar, wild, fierce. The rest was human--a tiny amount really, but just enough to make his nerves jump, the wolf salivate.

No doubt another werewolf had given them the recipe for the seductive cocktail Remus also realized what they planned to do with the blood. He'd never wanted to shut his eyes so badly.

The cauldron was positioned above Ginny's head. The Death Eater's at the entrance flicked their wands and the vat turned slowly, spilling a crimson shower onto the witch below. Sticky gore covered her from the crown of her head to her knees, pressed against the splattered stone floor. She didn't scream, lips clenched, head bowed, a muffled moan shaking her thin body as tears washed the mess from beneath her eyes.

A laugh came from behind a skull mask.

One of the Death Eaters, the second to have entered the cage, let go of Ginny's arm, wand hand covered in bright red from the thumb down.

"Let him resist this," she said, her harsh voice meeting Lupin's ears.

As chaotic as Remus's mind felt, he recognized the woman to be Bellatrix Lestrange. And he watched her approach his frozen form and lean over him, his view little more than black robes. Chuckling, she ran a bloody index finger over his lower lip.

Spicy copper fell down onto his tongue.

More. The wolf stood on hind legs, lapping at air.

"You'll gobble up that little pumpkin before the moon takes you, werewolf," Lestrange cooed.

And then she was gone. The cell entrance slammed shut, and Lupin felt the paralyzing hex lift. He rolled off of his side, his rumbling stomach hitting the floor painfully. Remus was less than three paces from the puddle of blood that Ginny sat in on hands and knees.

He pushed back the wolf's howling, hearing the soft, heart wrenching sound of her sobs. The wizard, slid up on his wrists, shaking fingers curled as he stood to look down at her.

"Ginny," he whispered.

The witch kept her head bent for a moment more before slowly looking up at the werewolf, fear in her eyes.

She sees the beast within. Just like Nymph. She'll take a step back now, muttering about being 'friends'. Just you wait, ol' boy. Watch, she'll probably say she's not scared, even though she's trembling like a lamb. Just you wait.

"Remus," she cried. And the fear left her with sorrow's company. The girl wrapped her hands around her, hugging herself, the sopping nightgown clinging to her subtle body like a second skin. "Help me, Remus."

The wizard's eyes widened. Not like Nymph. . . .

"I will, Ginny. I will," he promised.