RUNNING WITH THE WOLVES -- open.

[FENRIR ALAN GREYBACK]

1 - 2 - 3 - 4... Fenrir spots a Gryffindor.

He knew that’s what she was for a number of reason. For one, Fenrir Greyback was never wrong. It was unquestionable. The young girl had a distinct air about her, an obnoxious aura that simply reeked of Or perhaps that was just the blood he could smell, its scent heavy and pleasurable in the air. He breathed in and out. And again. Three times in slow succession as the werewolf watched the lithe woman hurry down the dark, cobbled street of Diagon Alley. Occasionally, she would glance over her shoulder hastily, as though doing so would confirm the fear that was written as plain as the light of day onto her face. She was right to worry, Greyback mused with a wolfish smirk. She was about to come face to face with a werewolf, and he doubted that the silly bitch had any idea of what was soon to come.

Of course, that wasn’t entirely true. He wasn’t a werewolf, not for another two days, that was. The cycle had yet to come around fully, though as was usually the case at this time of the month, Fenrir’s lust and pure, cannibalistic desire had peaked to an almost painful level. The man wasn’t stopped by petty little things such as the moon. No, rearranging his features into a rather smug expression, he emerged from the shadows and silently closed the gap between his previous position and his quarry. Her feeble attempts at protest were futile. With nothing more than a short gasp of breath on her part, the girl was yanked into the alley and shoved roughly up against the cold, brick wall. Sharp teeth sinking into her soft, innocent flesh was all that it took to silence her as the werewolf’s hands tore elsewhere.

5 - 6 - 7 - 8... blood running through the grate.

A short while later, Greyback emerged from the alley once more, finishing the buckle of his belt and marching away from the crime scene without so much as a second glance. The only sign that he gave away of what had just occurred was a slightly brisker pace than usual, but despite the evidence of the girl’s body, crumpled somewhere increasingly far away, even that was meaningless. The harsh collision that Fenrir suddenly experienced consequently could have been avoided, but that never occurred between Greyback’s rush of fury.

“Watch where you’re going, or you’ll be next,” The man hissed. His large hands grabbed the front of the offender’s shirt in a fistful. He leaned in closer, hot breath spewing from his blood-stained mouth, winding its way around the figure’s facial features and caressing them in the smooth whisper of a death threat. Anyone who hadn’t been living under a rock for their entire life knew that Fenrir Greyback’s threats were never empty ones.

[DEMELZA NOELLE ROBINS]

It was no secret that Demelza Robins was a total klutz. The girl couldn't go a single day without falling flat on her face at least once. Of course, she tried to avoid these embarrassing situations at all cost, seeing as it could possibly effect her looks or result in her breaking something of value. Of course, it was just her luck for her to have one of her clumsy moments in the middle of a crowded Dagon Alley street. As she collided with the solid body and there was a loud rip, and her eyes widened. "Oh no." The side of her dress had ripped up the side seem, reveling her thigh. Demelza honestly wanted to cry. It wasn't that she was ashamed of showing skin, hell that was hardly the case. It was just that she was embarrassed at the whole situation. A gasp flew from her lips as she regained her composure and inspected the damage. It was not that bad, but it was not all that great either. Trying to cover the tear with her hand, she was on the verge of tears or screaming, forgetting about the confusing note entirely as she attempted to hide the tear in her dress.

Looking down the street, she quickly found a deserted alley behind an abandoned old shop. Feeling like that would be the place to make the repairs to her dress, she hurried away as quickly as she could from the center of attention, assuring her two friends that she would be right back. Tossing one of them her oversized purse to hold, she took no more time than necessary to awkwardly rush behind the building. Her heart was beating quickly, and there was no doubt that she was embarrassed as hell. With a couple feeble attempts, she managed to repair her dress and then leaned back against the wall. Perhaps dresses and heels were not for her, and she should go back to jeans and t-shirts. The thought alone made her laugh out loud. As if. That was the old Demelza and she was never going back.

Instead of going back to meet with her friends, her curiosity lead her down the deserted and peaceful alley. It was hard to believe that this was still a part of Diagon Alley. Just as she was growing bored and prepared to turn around to continue shopping with her loyal friends when she realized she was lost. Just peachy. Faces passed her, but none of them looked familiar, or helpful. Not watching where she was going, she was brought back to reality as she encountered a scene in front of her that was not exactly you saw everyday.

There was a tall, hairy man, his mouth covered in blood. That obviously wasn't normal, and he had another man by the front of his shirt. Able to recognize who one of the men was, she knew it was in her best interest to get out, but her curiosity drove her to say. Examining the scene before her, she knew she had to do something. With a sight, she reached into her push up bra to uncover a small stash of instant darkness powder she had purchased that day and decided to store in her dress to avoid carrying another bag. Getting a bit closer to the two, she threw the powder at the ground with an incredible force, causing the street to erupt in complete darkness. She ran to where she remember the two to be, and ripped the mans shirt with a spell and a flick of her wand, allowing him to run free and not suffer any more time with the infamous man that had kept him there. "Sorry about your shirt, but that’s what stores are for...you should probably go now!" She shouted into the darkness, feeling slightly heroic in the process. Feeling as though she should take her own advice, she went to leave as well.

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[FENRIR ALAN GREYBACK]

Blood was pounding through Greyback’s veins at a terrifying rate that was almost directly reflected in the expression his eyes had narrowed into. The sheer cheek of the stupid git whose shirt was currently entwined in his sharp finger nails was inconceivable to Fenrir. Silly bastard. He growled threats into the man’s face, with barely an inch of space between him and his own. He could smell fear and he could smell dirt. The sweat that was pouring from the man’s forehead, trickling down towards petrified eyes that swiveled in their sockets, searching desperately for a means of escape, mingled with something else. Mudblood. Fenrir inched in even closer, his fingertips circling the man’s neck. He could snap him in an instant. He probably would have done, too, if it weren’t for the blackness that suddenly engulfed the pair and the alleyway. No doubt caused by the stupid girl whose voice rang through the darkness..

He let out a roar of outrage and flung out his hand, sending a spell hurtling towards where he could hear the footsteps pounding. One of the many, many perks to being a werewolf, even one that had not transformed at that current moment, was that his condition gave him a heightened ability of all five senses, particularly smell and hearing. HIs eyesight might have been all but completely shrouded, but that was irrelevant. His previous captive had barely had chance to gather himself and control of his feet before he had been located once more. Fenrir made no move to go after him. The spell that left his mouth, a muttered incantation, prompted a burst of energy that lifted the poor sod off his feet and propelled him towards the nearest wall with a remarkable amount of force. A sickening crack filled the air that even the oblivious little girl probably could have heard, as well the man whose head had caused it. The sound was probably the last thing his ears ever heard in this life, aside from the eery whispers of Death sending him a lullaby, but Fenrir no longer gave a toss about him.

There were a lighter pair of footsteps heading away from him, clearly the girl who had urged his victim so earnestly to make an escape. He rolled his eyes. Would they ever learn? His victims always thought it would be a brilliant and founded bloody idea to try and run away, but in reality, it only made him even more furious. And that was certainly without the pointless heroics that this girl had felt the need to grace him with. Fenrir narrowed his eyes to glacier blue slits and waited. One. Two. Three. Showtime. He reduced the distance between them so that it was practically non-existent and grabbed her.

“Alright, sunshine,” Grey snarled, leaning in close so that his hot, rancid breath licked at her ear. His hands were on her bare shoulders, sharp nails digging half-moon crescents into the girl’s soft flesh. Just the feeling of how easily he could break her underneath his grasp was enough to send him into a frenzy. “Where the hell do you think you’re going? I thought you wanted to have a little fun with Greyback. You shouldn’t lead someone like me on, you know, sweetie. We don’t deal with it very well.”

His voice was laced with a threat and with connotations that he didn’t need to speak of in order to get his point across. Fenrir had done this enough times to be something of an expert at it. She was just another mindless pawn in his game.

[DEMELZA NOELLE ROBINS]

Demelza knew almost immediately that she messed up. She knew who she was dealing with, and yet she still insisted on interfering. Now she was slowly starting to wish she might have taken a better approach, or at least had gone for help. However, Greyback was fast and deadly; by the time she got back it might have been too late. Now instead of living with guilt, she had the possibility of not living at all. Both she and large man's former prisoner took off in opposite directions. The dense, thick powder made it impossible to tell where she was going. Running into several unidentified objects, she literally froze when a small crack reached her ear drums, and the sound of footsteps stopped. Her hazel eyes grew wide with fear, as her heart pounded in her chest. Now she knew she was in huge trouble, but how was she going to get out of it?

By now, Demelza was practically sprinting through the fog, occasionally colliding painfully with obstacles that blocked her path. Not allowing them to hold her back any longer than they had, she blocked out the pain and got right back up, and continuing to run as fast as her legs would carry her. The darkness powder was not as thick, informing her that she was nearly out of it. Just a few more footsteps and she would break through the dark barrier and know where she was going. In the distance, she could make out the outline of the new Weasley joke shop like a small glimmer of hope. If she got there, she could be safe, right? At least there were people around that would try to help her. Now she more determined than ever as she could hear footsteps coming from behind. Assuming it was the infamous werewolf she recognized from wanted posters, Demelza tried to increase her speed even more, but it was too late.

A large pair of hands grabbed her shoulders and jerked her back. A loud scream instantly flew from her lips and she tried to catch her breath. Her finger tips were shaking with fear, and continued to scream as she thrashed around like crazy to get away. Long, yellow fingernails dug into her skin, giving her all the more reason to scream louder at the pain. Demelza was not going down without a fight, though her future was not looking to promising. Fenrir Greyback wasn't one to play nicely, and seeing as she had unexpectedly interfered with his plans she knew that this would not end well. All she could think about was finding a way to break free from his grasp and get to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. That was her only chance, and despite the situation her hope has still remained intact.

"Ow! That hurts," she whimpered, but continued to squirm. She could feel his hot breath on the back of her neck and goosebumps covered her skin. Her heart was beating so quickly, she could actually hear it. With her eyes on the outline of the building in the distance, she continued to struggle like crazy. "No! Let go! This is not my idea of fun. How about a rain check? Just...get off me! Please?" Demelza was a tough cookie, though you couldn't tell it now, she was once a major tomboy, always wrestling and beating the neighbor boys in sports. Though she swore she wouldn't revert back to that, she knew now it was that or nothing. Gathering up all her courage, she turned her head and bit down on his arm, sinking her teeth into his tough, terrible tasting flesh.

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[FENRIR ALAN GREYBACK]

The struggling of the girl underneath his grip was strangely satisfying to Greyback. He fed on pain and suffering as much as he did flesh and blood, the panic that he could both see swarming in his victim’s eyes and pounding through their veins in direct correlation to their racing hearts almost providing him with as much satiation to his carnal desire than his usual methods did. Key word there being almost. Despite the reaction he had got out of her, the fact remained that there were still a great many other things that he would have liked to do to her at that moment. None of them were particularly pleasant, either, as was to be expected. The thought alone made blood rush through his own body.

With a snarl, annoyed half at his own actions and the other part at the girl’s, Fenrir suppressed the feeling and dug his nails in deeper, despite her protests. He pulled her closer, relishing the sensation of her soft body pressed back against his own. His lips were inches away from the skin that he longed to taint, but he urged himself to wait, if only to test his own abilities rather than comply with the wishes of the inferior girl that continued to struggle in his clutches. He would humour her, for a while, seeing how far he could push both her and himself before one snapped. Unfortunately, she seemed to have other ideas.

Greyback growled more out of frustration than pain as her teeth sunk into own his calloused skin, mirroring the ideas that he had for her. He let go momentarily, shoving the girl roughly away from him before she could do anymore damage. The unchanged werewolf immediately regretted it. She had the opportunity to escape, one that she would no doubt take. Not if he had anything to do with it. Feneir lunged, grabbing both of her arms once more and whirling her around so that her front was pressed up against his. Oh, she would soon come to regret that.

“Pumpkin, if you like it rough, you only had to ask.” As though to illustrate his point, Fenrir shoved her forwards, so that her back collided roughly with the nearest wall to them both. He leered over her, long yellow fingernails raking through the girl’s soft hair. “But it only makes sense that I return the favour, hmm? It’s a shame that our friend couldn’t get off his fat, lazy arse long enough to join in, really. He’s missing out on quite the show.”

Brushing the girl’s hair away from her face and consequently her ear, Fenrir hissed his words lowly mere centimetres from her features, eyes flicking down momentarily to where the body of his previous victim lay, slumped and crumpled against the cobbles, a thin trail of bloody oozing from his nest of tangled hair. He nudged the body with his boot. If she weren’t careful, this girl rammed between himself and the wall would be soon suffering the same fate.