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The Humanity In You, The Darkness In Me	By : screamguy Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 2744 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
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"Womenfolk "

Lunar orb that hangs in the sky

is my only companion to the horrors I inflict

I relish their pain, I cannot deny

my noxious affintity to clave human flesh.

Yet there lies softly beside the predaceous nature

shrouded amongst the caverns of my mind,

a most irksome truth, a detestable attribute

that vexes I most of all to find.

Womenfolk, are most alluring,

their secrets waiting to be revealed

I yearn to taste their sweet tremulous hearts

and enfold my claws around their bodies.

What is it about them I wonder

that stirs within a beast such desires?

Why are they an enigma that befoggles my braine?

Usually only blood invokes emotion within me

but now I find their succulent forms

are driving me deranged. - Screamguy

**********************************************************************************************

The auror shivered, clasping her fur cloak tightly about her plump and ample breasts. Thrusting her hand within a small pouch that contained much more than the naked eye would fathom, she brought out the pulp of a caminus plant, which once the properties thereof were properly contained could be manipulated and consumed for witches and wizards in subtemperate terrain that required more than the average heating spell yet did not wish to draw attention to themselves.
She stiffened as the meaty pulp inside her mouth tingled against the center of her tongue, an unnatural warmth already spreading to the very borders of her physical being as she felt the results spanning like a warm web throughout herself.

Using her goggles, she gazed about the frigid wasteland, scanning the horizon she discovered with much relief there was not a creature for miles around. And yet her skin continued to prickle on the very nape of her neck, turning to gooseflesh. An eerie feeling that she was being watched stoked within her, and no amount of revealing spells or cloaking devices would ever extinguish it from her mind.
'So stupid,' she mentally snarled at her own shortcomings, ignoring her better sense of judgement. Pulling out a map, one of the various sources of her netherworldly luck became evidently clear.
The map was similiar in aspect to that of the rather infamous 'Marauder's Map' of Hogwarts. She had ... 'borrowed it' for lack of a better word, from the Ministry's most enigmatic records that were specifically off limits to anyone, including the Minister himself. The map had been penned centuries ago, some say by the famousTransylvanian Vlad Dracul *father of Vlad Dracula*, but these were theories and had never been revealed to be anything more than that; although Azriel herself personally suspicioned that the rumours may have held more truth to them than the Ministry had let on in their brief notes.

This map was uniquely beneficial to the keeper in varied aspects, all of them Azriel had keenly noted upon her discovery of the dusty scroll amongst other aged parchment. She had reasoned all the exceptional favours that the map provided would aid her greatly in her journey, and she would have been a fool not to seize the oppurtunity to arrest it's unparalleled abilities for herself.
It had been a most neccessary risk, but if she were caught filching such a priceless item of not only magical but historical value, her career would more than be on the line and she doubted the Ministry would ever allow her to legally practice being an auror again. However in all honesty, she highly doubted they would ever notice it missing amongst the other diverse documents in the sealed vault. She was more worried about Voldemort than those right blundering buffoons, many details of important mention usually escaping their notice until it was too late, not taking into account her extensive methods of concealment in all degrees.

This particular map revealed the positions of landmarks, hidden places of extreme significance that were centered or near the past principalities*states governed by princes* Wallachia and Moldavia, that later united in 1859 and became Romania. On the map however, as it's creation predated 1859 it was therefore still labeled as the old states.
Many of these landmarks were previously undocumented, associated with magic of the darker origin, and had yet to be studied. The location of the underground tower that Voldemort had morphed into his dark sanctuary was on the map,but keep in mind the witch was not aware of the exact location where he was, merely having pinpointed various areas of interest on the map.
At this moment she was located within miles of the Eastern Carpathian mountain range, near the peaks of the Ceahlau Massif Range. Little did she know, that an unearthed spire hidden most cleverly within a glade quite near the high peak of the Ocolasul Mare Mountain, was the very spot that Voldemort was dwelling within.
She carefully placed the map back into her pouch. It provided an irreplacable reference tool for her comparison notes on the suspected locations she believed she would most likely uncover that pallid skinned, extremely loathsome and soulless specter.
She would have liked to have studied the parchment itself further to see what other secrets it may harbored that were waiting to be unlocked by the right mind, but that was another time, and another place to do so.

The wind whistled sharply, snow pouring down from the heavens. It appeared to be the makings of another blizzard.
Blinking she gazed upward, her long lashes coated with soft snow flakes that layered themselves atop each other.

She would need to find a shelter, and soon before the blizzard took hold. The idea of being stationary, circumstances forcing her to remain in one location for an extended amout of time was not desirable. But, there it was and there were really little else options she had at the moment.
She could have attempted to brave the storm, yet something within her was holding her back, an extreme sense of caution that was not normally a part of her character. After all, if she were usually ruled by such a thing as inhibition, she would have not been in the present situation she was now to begin with.
She frowned, pursing her large thick lips.
According to the map, there was a vast network of caves not far from here, and if she left quickly she may yet be able to outrun the storm and take shelter in them. She needed to move however, and quickly at that for something was off.....
Her concentration was devoured by a sudden rush of wind. The storm was fast approaching.

Using her goggles to focus in on the frothy clouds, she stared in amazed horror, watching multitudes of graceful shrowded forms, dementors ; weaving in and out of the gloom. Fog was wisping off of them in bouts, and with a nauseaous certainty she realized that the Dementors were mating.
With some disgust she knew that there were wizard and witch scholars that would give an arm or leg to view such an unseen spectacle, but as for her personally she found it to be a repulsing matter that she could not appreciate in the slightest degree.
Ech. Ghastly creatures. Thankfully they were not near enough to effect her physically, yet her psyche quivering like a defenseless jelly mass in vehemence was enough of a result of their filthy copulations for her to handle.
Yet however vulgar they may have been, she found their movements were hypnotic, and like a moth to the flame unable to pull herself away from their graceful dance as they hovered and dove into the soft plumes of nimbostratus clouds, which were often present during or before snowfall .

A sinister gloom hung in the air, the ground reeked of it; everything around pulsed with demonic aura.

She shivered, a haunting chill sweeping down her spine as she listened to their cries. They were shrieking... and the whole forest below reverbrated with their screams of death.
Cautiously she tread closer, coming to the edge of a grove of trees. Listening carefully in the darkness, she realized their shrieks were actually formulations of spoken words.
"The time is now.

Feel the fabric of reality ripped away.

The era of The One is at hand.

Give in, you may discover an unrecognized pleasure in their pain.

Rattling the bodies as they move through the clay.

Echoing, their cries a symphony of delight.

Turn the other way.

Do not observe if it may disturb your sensibilities.

From the beginning of time, we have waited patiently.

He is here.

He ascends.

Behold his glory.

Dark Scepter smites the feeble muggles.

Cleaving flesh from bone.

This is his might.

Force your eyes open.

Behold.Behold.

The time is now.

He is The Truth.

He is The One.

He is The Dawn

He is The Sun.

Cresting into a new era."

When the haunting song they sang in rattling breath came to it's closure, the voices of the dementors increased in volume, their mad flapping cowls writhing and snaking through the air erratically. They then shrieked in a heated frenzy and the conclusion of their morbid little ballad shot up in a terrible, raucous cresendo that reached out over the trees and demolished any pleasant little thoughts that happened to still be whizzing about in the auror's skull, as sparse as they were.

Azriel's mouth was wide agape. Dementors, speaking words.... fancy that.
Dementors had never be known to speak actual words, not on record anyways. The dementors, thankfully; did not appear to notice or percieve her - which was extremely peculiar to say the least, considering that dementors rely not on upon sight in being aware of their surroundings but rather a more effective sense that entails the natural perception of other's emotions.

Her insides writhed unpleasantly as she mentally discerned a creeping dark cloud eclipse upon her waking consiousness.
The dementors were flying closer to her, caught up in their fevered parade. Racking her brain under diress, Azriel found no particular spell coming to mind that would negate her prescence to them without being suspicious.
A Patronus charm would do no good against such a crowd, they outnumbered her at least a thousand to one.

Any wrong movement and she could be placed under the kiss faster than a vampire bebopping over to the nearest blood bank.
However, it had been theorized by scholars who studied Dementors exclusively; that Dementors were not interested in animals, humans being their primary targets. They had hypothesized that perhaps animangi might have been able to walk amongst the Dementors unscathed, once transformed in their animal form.
This theory had never been tested, hell; there was a fifty percent chance it could be successful. And then of course a fifty percent chance it would fail as well.
Well there was no time like the present....
Her features morphed, fur sprouting in tufts from her face. Her ears expanded, and slid up her skull and further to the back. Pupils changed, round narrowing and becoming more like shards of obsidian.
Her clean fingernails lengthened and came to sharp points, her legs shortening as she fell to the ground and her forearms lengthened.
Finally a long swinging tail flew out from her tail bone, and the transformation was complete.
The small black panther ran off into the night, heading for the cave system indicated upon the map.
*********************************

Fenrir grunted in discontent.
The trail had stopped. There was no scent, it was as if the female had droppped off the face of the earth and ceased to exist completely. This wasn't possible of course, she'd obviously found some way to mask her scent from him. He growled in annoyance.

He sniffed the ground, half changed into his lupine form from the waist up. He noted that she had not mated for a long while, and that it appeared she was in heat.

The vivid image of a petite woman with soft flesh came into his mind,
crying out in pain as he rammed his large gerth into her cunt. He paused, his sharpened yellow
fingernails pressing their points into the flesh of his palm as he flexed them, lost in his depravity.
He'd never mated a pureblood before, since those were more difficult to come by. Blood traitors were usually taken by the Death Eaters and dealt with, if at all before their condemnation.
The bloodtraitors were self righteous, they thought themselves to be pure, better than their Death Eater opposites. They were all the same to him. Greyback enjoyed taking them all down a peg or two, and how he did delight in their ruination.
The wolf wasn't worried. The wolf was calm, relaxed. He'd find the female , all in good time.

**************************************

The wind groaned fiercely, it's cool undying breath tearing at the man's garb that was composed of worn in clothing. A well used tan trenchcoat that appeared to be tighter than usual flapped erratically, beneath which lay a robust chest covered in smooth, straight white hair, and brown pants belted with corded rope over bandaged feet .

The werewolf pawed at the snow, catching a shivering rabbit with the edges of his talons. He grinned sinisterly at the poor tiny creatures futile struggles, his claws ripping swiftly into the vulnerable flesh; the tearing of the small animal's skin like music to his ears.

A high pitched sound rang out in the forest as the rabbit screamed in pain, and then; the creature was silenced. Greyback crunched on the head thoughtfully, swishing the warm blood around in his mouth as he glanced down on the rabbit's twitching decapitated corpse.

His ears perked, his head whipping upward. A faroff scream. Sounded haunting, it did.
Greyback lept to his feet, crouching as he peered through the dense brush.
He stared off intensely into the yawning darkness, his attention now riveted upon the source of the noise.
Offhandedly he slurped the rest of the twitching rabbit down, it's back legs disappearing down his throat, the pleasure of the kill now forgotten.

Hmm. He watched the dementors whirling in the air, 100 yards away from his being. Even Voldemort couldn't keep them under control, not for long any way.
A wry smile played upon his lips, which appeared bizarre on a blood coated face that reeked of decaying flesh. Greyback took a look longer, then, inhaling the auror's scent, bounded quickly towards it, off into the night.
The scent had gone from human to animal.
So it was true then.
Greyback had overheard a few of the Death Eaters whispering about one of the spies in the Ministry letting them know she was a secretly registered animangus.
Like that made any difference at all, it just made things more interesting. More challenging.

******************************************************

"Need you.

Dream you.

Find you.

Taste you.

Fuck you.

Use you.

Scar you.

Break you.

Lose me.

Hate me.

Smash me.

Erase me.

Kill me."

- from 'Eraser' *complete*, by N.I.N

****************************************************************
She'd made it to the caves, and not a moment too soon . The blizzard was now in full force, like chaos incarnate howling and blowing in a frenzy of icy air and white drifts.
Taking a few steps into the large domed chamber indicated upon the map, the auror was awed by it's enormity. Over time, the interior of the first cave chamber had been beautifully sculpted into elegant curvatures and arches. Lifting up her goggles to let them rest atop her head, Azriel Shade stared in wonder at the 'city' that had been created by mother nature.
Her whiteblack fur cloak furled gently in the slight breeze that made it past the entrance, a strange haunting whisper crossing through the cave and into one of the conjoining tunnels that snaked off into other areas saturated with mystery.
Light splashes of turquiose ran over the smooth and glistening surface of the stone walls. There was no light, the pit blackness was absolute.
She shifted her footing, one inky fur boot striking against something on the ground.
" Ow..." she muttered, bending over to pick up the object that had caused her harm.
It was rather heavy for something so small, she noted, weighing it in her hand. The object must have been left behind from another more primitive society. Perhaps it had been offered in the cave as some sort of sacrifice, or maybe it had been forgotten by chance and now fate would have it be discovered by her.
"Fascinating," she breathed, holding up the small golden figurine to behold it in a more favorable light.
The artifact had been melded to look like a mummified corpse down to the last detail, inlaid with ruby eyes that peeked out over the 'folds' of it's bandages.
So engrossed was she in her findings that she never noticed a dark, massive figure that was hunched over outside the cave entrance. Slowly, inch by inch, the sinister form moved forward.
Fenrir Greyback was stalking her.
Slate coloured eyes glittered in the darkness with unrestained malice, anticipation running taunt in every muscle and sinew.
Quietly, carefully, patiently.
The auror had no idea that she'd been followed, no idea that Fenrir was right behind her, his form creeping up upon hers.

Suddenly and without warning, the auror felt a claw pressed against her virile throat.
"Go ahead and scream, " a deep, rumbeling voice provoked; "Won't help you much here so why not release a little shriek for Fenrir now, eh?"
The woman's face turned scarlet, then shock white. She stifled a gasp, tensening as she felt Fenrir's unwanted touch. His breath was hot down the back of neck, and absolutely foul.
' No, impossible!' her mind spat in denial as she struggled vainly against his vise like grip.
"Now, now," Greyback chided, rudely shoving her against a stone wall. "We'll have none of that," the werewolf breathed, his lips brushing against her velvet skin.
"Heh heh, this will be easier if you behave yourself. I'd say it'd be more pleasant, but that would be a lie." Fenrir roughly patted her down, removing her velvet bags. "Ah, " he growled in satisfaction, a large hand clasping over her wand.
" I'll be taking this now,' he announced as he placed Azriel's one last hope into an inner pocket within his trenchcoat.
"You're making a big mistake," Azriel hissed through clenched teeth.
"I'm not the one who's against the wall, so I find that unlikely," Greyback countered with a rasp and a gleam in his eye.

"Admit it girly," Fenir rumbled from behind her with a lewd grin plastered on his face, " You crave my dick inside of you.... " He slid closer to her, one filthy clawed fingertip caressing the unblemished side of her face with suprising tenderness.

"I know you do.....even if you have yet to say it....." He cooed, tracing her jawline with the razored edge of his talon.

Azriel said nothing as her eyes blazed, his hot breath on the back of her neck issued from a mouth ridden with a smile that oozed degeneracy. She stiffened, a revolted expression on her face.
The older man slided closer to her paralyzed body, wrapping his burly arms around her in a menacing embrace.

He licked the side of her face experimentally, a sly smile between stubbled cheeks, one of which that pressed against one of her own.
"Funny," he said softly, the pupils of his eyes widening with excitement; " You taste like fear girly, and not like a brave auror at all....." Groaning, he squeezed her luscious tits to the point where it was painful, his member already filled with blood.
"I'm going to fuck you," Fenrir whispered through exposed yellow fangs, his slate coloured eyes gleaming as he did so; "And there is nothin you can do to stop me bitch. Nothin. Who's
the helpless one now eh ? " Inhaling deeply, he grasped her slight form with his massive hands, caressing her body with his fingers as they glided beneath the white and black fur robes.

"Mmmm," the werewolf moaned, bending his head to lick at the soft flesh of her neck. " The flesh is so clean, so ... soft...." he bit carefully at the nape, just enough to cause an ugly blood mark to instantly appear.
He glanced up at her, akin to a naughty child that delighted in being caught in the act, sucking at the wound. Greyback closed his eyes, lost in a daze of euphoria." The skin feels......pristine... fresh..." he whispered confidingly with a snicker.
Pulling away from her, he regarded her with a hungry gaze that the auror found extremely disturbing.

"Bitch...." Fenrir whispered," Arrogant, little, bitch, " he chuckled, breathing mockingly in her face as he cocked his head from side to side, relishing every syllable - his large nose inches from her own.
Inwardly flinching, the auror wished fervently that she could move. If only she could reach her wand...
Fenrir sighed ardently, his eyes half closed as he willingly prolonged the moments leading up to physical fulfillment.
In a span of mere seconds, he bridged the gap between them, forcing his tongue into her mouth. Azriel gagged as the stench and taste of raw flesh assaulted her senses, reeling as Greyback gripped the back of her head tightly with one clawed hand - constraining her with ease.
He slurped her face,impassive to her discomfort; his wet tongue flicking in and out of her mouth.

He groped her body possessively, grinding his erection against her abdomen. Fenrir growled, his deep throaty voice breathing raggedly as he began to rub himself more forcefully against her small and defenseless frame.

He pulled the fur cloak from her form, casting it aside as an afterthought to the cave's cold stone at their feet.

Fenrir panted, carelessly ripping off her clothes and pouncing upon her.

He slammed her body face first to the floor, her head striking against a rock.
The harsh impact of her bones against the stone causing her to cry out unexpectedly in pain. His large hairy body overpowered her own, his hands easily three times the size of hers grasping around the small circumference of her delicate wrists as he held her down.

Azriel moaned softly in pain, blood welping up where her forehead had hit the jagged boulder. Her mind reeled and she tried to will away the dizzy confusion that was taking over her consiousness.
Her spilt blood seemed to invigorate Fenrir further, his mouth salivating as he brought his face down to her skirts.
The werewolf growled, sniffing between her legs.

A shriek filled the air as the auror kicked him squarely on the jaw with everything she had. Greyback, however, appeared unfazed. He issued a warning growl, his lip curled.
Azriel froze.
Bad idea, extremely bad idea. Never mess with a werewolf, especially one that's set on shagging.

Snarling, he sprung at her, his full weight pinning her down.

She stoppped dead, unable to move, paralyzed in fear.
He grinned, his teeth awfully close to her trembling face.

"Next time, I'll rip your bloody face off," he breathed. She didn't doubt that he would.

Taking his large hand, he pressed her face into the cave floor, the auror coughing as dust settled into her nose.

She didn't dare move, aware that he would not tolerate another insolent act.

Greyback smirked, his eyes gleaming in the darkness like shards of ice. He lowered his mouth to her that mound of flesh between her legs, licking her from behind.
There was no escaping it.
He ran his thick tongue down against the pink folds, pressing teasingly against her clit.
Fenrir could have taken her then, but he preferred to make her wet first. To make her moan. It would be better that way, more humiliating if somewhere deep in the pit of her soul, she found herself being pleasured by her captor.
He could feel her shudder beneath him as he tasted her, delicately, sucking at the small bud that was now pulsating. He cupped one hand on her buttock, squeezing it as he bit into it's soft skin.
Dark red droplets weaved their way down the ivory flesh, the only testament to Fenrir's macabre fetishes.

He looked upon her intently. She was so beautiful, a sad little doll with gothic features that beconing him to play.
Spill my blood, taste me... an illusionary Azriel seemed to plead in his mind. The wolf chuckled.

His hands caressed their way up her spine, sliding and wrapping around her throat. He had no intentions of death, merely; he stroked her neck, his eyes entranced with her.
Lovely pet. Absobloodylutely lovely.
He buried his face into her hair, breathing deeply as he closed his eyes in relish. She smelled faintly of incense and strawberries.

His fingers found her breasts, molding them, feeling them, groping them. So soft, so very soft.
Fenir purred, flicking a tongue at her nipple that had become exposed.

He grunted, unable to control himself any longer, pushing himself upon the woman and tearing sporadically at her corset and leggings.
The fabric ripped, one sharp sound of noise as his talons found the middle of the cloth and tore their way to her naked flesh.
He brought his dick out, and the placing it at her entrace, he shoved the full length of himself inside her.
Breathing heavily he slammed himself violently into her, thrusting and invading her cunt as his balls smacked against her pussy, which was wet due to his oral stimulation.
His fingers tore into her hair, grunting as he took her from behind.

There was no sound in the cave, besides the wet slapping noise of flesh against flesh.
There was no sound as she screamed in her mind.
- 6
- 7
- 8
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The Humanity In You, The Darkness In Me