Fic: "See Jack Run" (PG-13, 1/1)

Title: See Jack Run
Author: Jaxmari -- imadra_blue
Challenge: Injuries
Rating: PG-13ish
Genre: Horror
Warnings: (OC) Character Death, Violence
Summary: Everybody has a story to tell. Meet Jack, the werewolf we saw sharing a room with Mr. Weasley at St. Mungo's. This is his story of how he received his bite. It's not a pretty story, but did you really think it would be?
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's Notes: The OCs are not quite OCs, at least not any more so than Regulus Black, Blaise Zabini, or Narcissa Malfoy. Jack is my interpretation of the werewolf we saw recuperating at St. Mungo's in OotP. Veronica Smethley is a canon name I found in CoS that had once sent Gilderoy Lockhart fanmail. Much love goes to my excellent beta readers: straussmonster, issyadore, and for ironing out my mistakes. If any remain, they are mine alone. 3398 Words. One-Shot.
Affiliation: Gryffindor

*******

Run, Jack, run.

He wasn't brave. He had spent seven years of his life at Hogwarts wondering why the Sorting Hat had cried, "GRYFFINDOR!" when it sat on his head. He wasn't brave, he wasn't chivalrous, and he sure as hell wasn't a hero.

Faster, it's coming closer.

His chest felt like it was going to explode. His legs burned, but he suspected it would hurt more if he stopped. Breathing was something he did sporadically, in great gulps. If he stopped, breathing would no longer be an option, so he kept running.

Oh, God, I'm going to die.

Her screaming finally stopped, and it wasn't because of the distance he'd put between them. Something inside him curled up and died. She was dead, and it was all his fault. He hadn't saved her; he hadn't acted like any sort of hero. When the wolf had bounded into the clearing, he had run like a coward.

Keep running, Jack. It's coming.

He kept running. It was all he could do.

*******

The Seasick Serpent had an unfavorable reputation amongst the wizarding community in Liverpool, but not unfavorable enough in Jack's opinion. He preferred the Hog's Head for these type of transactions, but his clients had been quite insistent about staying away from Hogsmeade. The Seasick Serpent was the natural second choice. The staff wouldn't bother you, and although the clientele was a little more upbeat than the Hog's Head, they mostly kept to themselves. The place was cleaner at least, though the smell of the wharf it was situated by sometimes made Jack sick -- he hated fish. The inside was dark, lit only by the occasional candle or lantern, and even the wood of the tables and bar were dark and heavy.

They were in the corner. As it was a late Tuesday evening, there weren't many other people around. Jack sat with his back against the dark wood walls. His partner and girlfriend, Veronica Smethley, sat beside him. She was a pretty witch with neat blond curls and a cute button nose. Jack was fond of her and they worked well together. Veronica had pulled out her nail file and had that bored expression on her face that Jack had learned meant she was taking every word in for later consideration. Across from them sat two potential customers, both wearing black robes and hooded cloaks.

"Chimaera eggs are Class A Non-Tradable Goods, you realize that?"

The rat-faced man curved his lips upwards in a mockery of a smile from underneath his hood. Jack frowned at him. The man had identified himself as "Wormtail," which was a dodgy name if Jack ever heard one. He had gold, though, it jingled in his hooded friend's pocket. That made everything all right in Jack's opinion.

"You are supposed to be good at procuring beasts and eggs of questionable legality, are you not?" asked the hooded man. Jack turned his attention off Wormtail to stare at the hooded man. It wasn't exactly uncommon to see people who wanted to hide their identity at the Seasick Serpent, but the man had a remarkably uppity air that was unusual for the pub's clientele.

Jack considered how to answer, while Veronica smirked and filed her nails. They had lots of connections, all thanks to help from Hagrid and few others he'd made friends with in the business. If you wanted an illegal beast or its eggs smuggled in, Jack was actually pretty new to the business. He'd only smuggled a dragon egg to a hooded man a few years ago in the Hog's Head, and the rest of his business was minor dealing in assisting the cross-breeding of magical beasts. He'd even helped Hagrid with his not-so-brilliant idea to cross manticores with fire crabs. That had been interesting, to say the least. It by no means made him rich, but it paid the bills, since his crap job at the porn shop in Knockturn Alley paid very little.

"Yeah. But Chimaera eggs don't come cheap, because I have to get them from my Greek supplier," Jack told him.

The hooded man snorted and waved his hand in the manner of a practiced snob. "We have the gold," he said. His accent was southern, by the sounds of it. He sounded like a Southern pansy and Jack resisted the urge to hit him.

Wormtail spoke up again, his beady eyes glittering in the candlelight. "We also need three Runespoor eggs. No more, no less. They all have to be in good condition, and we want them freshly laid." Unlike the hooded man, Jack had been able to make out part of his ugly features under the hood. They were strangely fluid and Jack was almost positive the man was altering his features.

Jack leaned forward. "Hey, look, I'll give you what you want, as long as you got the gold. I don't even care what you want them for. But Chimaera and Runespoor eggs aren't easy to come by and I'm not sure what my suppliers can get. I can't make promises," he said.

"Name the price," the hooded man said, his tone impatient. Jack noted how expensive his black robes looked and glanced at Veronica.

Veronica smiled and brought out a quill from her powder blue handbag. She began to scratch numbers onto a piece of parchment after winking at him. He trusted her to name an appropriate amount. When she was done, she slid the parchment across the table to Wormtail, who picked it up and nodded when he glanced at it. He passed it over to his hooded friend, who looked at it, snorted, and then threw a bag of Galleons onto the table with a loud clink.

"Half now, the other half on delivery," the hooded man drawled. Jack decided that the man was not only a great Southern pansy, but that he wanted to pound him into next week. However, this did not impede any business relationships with him. Jack reached out and grabbed the bag.

"Two weeks," said Wormtail. "Meet us at the place on the note, at that date and time." Then he slid across his own piece of parchment. In neat handwriting, it said for Jack to meet them in the Hay Wood on December 6th. Jack shrugged. He'd been asked to meet people in worse places.

"Deal," he said.

Wormtail and the Southern pansy both Disapparated with a crack, rattling the glasses on the bar.

Veronica frowned at Jack. "I don't like this. This is really, really dodgy. I don't trust that rat-faced man, and I trust his snotty friend even less."

"Don't worry, doll," he told her, leaning back and smiling. "This is going to be the big one. After this, we can quit our day jobs and go full time into this business. We hit pay dirt."

Veronica didn't look convinced. "I don't know, Jack. I don't like this one bit."

*******

Two weeks later, they were in the Hay Wood, shivering from the cold. No lanterns were needed, as the full moon lit the night sky and bathed the ancient forest in its eerie silver light. Jack had pulled some strings, called in a couple favors, and managed to get all the eggs Wormtail had wanted. They were safely tucked away in the satchel that hung over his shoulder. He shivered again, glancing at Veronica, who was blowing onto her gloved hands for warmth. Her light blue winter cloak was heavier than his brown one, and lined with fur. He wished he'd brought something like that, because his own cloak was feeling very thin.

Jack heard something howl in the distance and shuddered, hoping it was nothing too dangerous and wouldn't get too close to them.

"They were supposed to be here already," Veronica complained, blowing again and glaring at Jack. They'd spent almost all the gold they'd received from the hooded man just trying get the eggs. Things could get very sticky for them if Wormtail and his friend didn't show.

Before Jack could say anything, there was a loud crack and Wormtail and his hooded friend stepped into the clearing. Wormtail was twitching a bit for some reason and his eyes darted about the place as fast the pinball machine Jack used to play with as a boy. Jack stepped forward, pulling the satchel off his shoulder and feeling his stomach drop out. He was starting to get that same bad feeling Veronica had.

"Do you have the eggs?" asked Wormtail, his voice coming out like a whine.

"Do you have the gold?" Jack retorted.

The hooded man spoke, his voice sounding like the expression Jack rather thought he had on his face: a sneer. "I have your money." He drew out another bag and dropped it onto the cold ground, and it clinked with the best form of music -- the sound of gold clinking together.

Jack passed the satchel over to Wormtail as Veronica picked up the bag of gold and weighed it in her hand. She nodded at Jack after a moment and it disappeared into her thick cloak. Jack couldn't wait to get back home, where there would be a roaring fire, maybe a nice glass of Ogden's Old, and he could celebrate their first big transaction by peeling off Veronica's robes with his teeth and then fucking her senseless.

Wormtail pulled each egg out and carefully inspected it. He smiled when he was done, placing the blotchy red Chimaera egg back in the satchel. "The Dark Lord will be pleased. These are perfect for the potions he needs," he told the hooded man and then suddenly pointed his wand at Jack. "Impedimenta!"

It took Jack a second to register he should move as the spell barreled for him. He fell to ground in reflex, dodging the spell, but the flash of sharp pain told him he had just cracked his forehead on a rock. The world spun as he struggled to come to his knees, trying find out was going on. Veronica was running towards him, but she seemed to be moving in slow motion. Jack could hardly muster the energy to stay upright.

"Time for the Mudbloods to die," the hooded man said, and he had his wand out faster than Jack could blink. "Avada Kedavra!"

The spell was aimed at Jack, but Veronica flung herself out of the way and they went tumbling as a jet of green light passed overhead. He reached for his wand belatedly as she rolled off him, her own wand in her hand. He turned at the hooded man, making himself dizzy with the movement.

The hooded man was backing away from something in the wood. Something that was growling. "Here it comes!" the man shouted. Had these bastards planned this? Jack couldn't even begin to comprehend the possibilities of that as he felt warm liquid trickling down his face; he wondered if he was bleeding. His head felt like it had been split open like a watermelon at a summer picnic.

"Stupefy!" cried Wormtail, and a jet of red light hit Veronica square in the chest. She went flying back onto the ground, her robes whipping about her like a blue whirlwind. She always liked blue, it was her favorite color.

Jack pointed his wand at the hooded man and screamed, "Stupefy!" He was moving far too slowly and he pitched forward from the effort, the ground moving beneath him as though he was having his own personal earthquake.

The hooded man whirled around too fast and dodged the spell. Locks of white-blond hair fell out of his hood as he fell back. It contrasted against his black robes like freshly fallen snow on an old weather-worn tombstone.

"Malfoy!" Wormtail screamed.

"Get out of here and let it have at them!" the hooded man responded and Disapparated with a loud crack..

Jack struggled to make use of his own limbs as he watched Wormtail shrink into a rat and scamper off into the woods. Jack tried to stop him, but he couldn't get any incantations out of his mouth and his wand slipped out of his fingers, falling to the ground. His head hurt so badly, and the rest of his body felt like dead weight.

A large brown werewolf leapt into the clearing, hackles raised. Its evil eyes glinted like polished steel under the moonlight. Jack remained where he sat for a moment, staring at it, fear coursing through his veins. It pulled him away from the comfortable blackness that sat in the back of his mind and threatened to overwhelm him. Everything had gone wrong, horribly, unequivocally wrong. This wasn't supposed to happen!

He turned to Veronica, who was slowly sitting up. The look of terror on her face told him that she realized exactly what was loping towards them. They were going to die.

Ohgodohgodohgodohgod... I don't want to die, Jack felt a part of himself cry inside his head. He stood up, ignoring how everything swam in his vision. Veronica let out a scream and tried to get up, but the wolf was on top of her now, its wicked jaws snapping at her.

Don't want to die. Don'twantodie. Don'twantodiedon'twantodiedon'twantodiedon'twantodiedon'twantodie.

The wolf's jaw closed on Veronica's arm -- that soft arm that had wrapped around Jack every night for the past year -- and tore it off with a vicious flick of its head. A fountain of blood sprayed into the air from her torn stump, like a macabre bottle of red wine.

Run, Jack, run.

Jack ran. He left her there, without any hesitation. He left his wand in the dirt, forgotten. It didn't even occur to him to Apparate. He just ran and he didn't stop.

*******

I can hear it breathing.

Jack's thoughts spun, and the world tilted as he ran. Everything was moving towards him, hunting him like a plump, young rabbit should be hunted. The forest itself seemed out to get him as brambles and branches tore at his robes and lashed at his skin. His body was failing him; his chest burned as though it was on fire and his legs were locking up. His robes and cloak were torn, and the wolf was almost on him.

The tree. Climb the tree, Jack.

He scrabbled at the tree, not daring to turn and look behind him. Something from his boyhood kicked in as he dragged himself up the tree, his nails ripping off and his flesh tearing open from the bark of the tree. He was moving, he just had to move faster. He couldn't think of the pain, or how much his head hurt or --

He felt an abrupt pang of agony as the wolf bit into the calf of his left leg, its teeth sinking into his flesh like razor-sharp knives. Jack screamed, his voice breaking and his throat cracking from the effort. The pain was incredible, as though the werewolf's bite carried fire with it that now coursed through his veins, making his body tremble, shudder, and burn.

Keep moving, Jack. Don't stop. Keep climbing.

He had to ignore the pain. He had to. He kept moving, tearing his leg away from the werewolf's jaws, feeling chunks of his leg separating from him, like meat pulled off the bone of freshly cooked pork ribs. He screamed again with his raw, cracked voice. Moments of blurred movement and desperation ran together in confused misery. Somehow, he managed to reach the top of his tree. He slumped over the tree limbs, panting and looking down, his head and leg throbbing in unison.

The werewolf growled at him, just out of reach. It scrabbled uselessly at the tree as it tried to climb, but kept sliding back down and leaving gouge marks in the bark from its claws. Its eyes gleamed red now, just like the blood that dripped from its jowls and glistened on its paws. Jack stared into the face of Death and it stared back. It laughed after a moment, and then abandoned him to his miserable existence.

Jack rested his face against the rough bark, feeling hot, despite the cold. He remembered long nights spent curled up with Veronica, her light hands soothing away the troubles of his life as they ran up and down his back. Then he remembered watching the werewolf tear off her arm, and the sound of her screaming as he left her to die. Jack leaned over and emptied the contents of his stomach into the branches of the tree.

After some time, the werewolf left, loping off into the woods, growling and scratching at itself. Only then did Jack allow the darkness to claim him and take him away from the growing agony of his wounds, both in body and spirit.

*******

It had taken the Mediwizards a day to find him. He had hardly noticed the passage of time, while stuck up in his tree. Even after the full moon passed, he did not climb down. He no longer paid any attention to the throbbing pain in his leg or head any more, because he was too preoccupied with the aching hole in his chest where his heart had once been.

Veronica was dead. He had abandoned her and he paid for his crimes by being turned into a monster. Death was too good for him.

They had taken him to St. Mungo's and cleaned his wounds. The Healers had done everything they could, but he knew there was nothing they could do to cure him. He wasn't a wizard any more; he was a beast -- a ravening, murdering beast no better than the one who had bitten him. Jack found the fact that his first murder had taken place before his first transformation painfully ironic.

They put him in a room with a woman who had a nasty bite from some creature she'd been illegally cross-breeding. In another time, another life, Jack would have pressed her for more information, but now he didn't care about any of that. There was also another man there, a middle-aged redhead who introduced himself as Arthur and seemed quite cheerful despite the fact that his bite wouldn't stop bleeding. Arthur kept trying to talk to Jack, to offer sympathy and comfort, telling him about another "nice" werewolf. Jack didn't want any sympathy or friendship; he didn't deserve it. So he threatened to bite Arthur. Arthur took the hint and left Jack alone to brood and sleep.

Arthur's family came to visit him, all of them redheads except for one black-haired boy that looked like Harry Potter. It couldn't actually be Harry Potter, though -- what would such an important boy want with that redheaded idiot and his annoying family and friends? The adults whispered amongst themselves after the teenagers left, while Jack rolled over on his hospital bed, wishing they would all go away. He heard very little of what they said.

Christmas came, bringing Arthur's family back. Jack watched them wistfully, remembering his mum and dad. They had both been Muggles and had died in a car crash years ago. He didn't have any other family; nobody else gave a damn about him. All he'd ever had was Veronica and she was dead now. Arthur, however, had a loving wife and more adoring children than could possibly be healthy. The boy who looked like Harry Potter even seemed to care about him. They all brought Arthur presents, and he seemed thrilled with his wire and screwdrivers.

Jack tried to ignore them and their conversations, but Arthur's wife was starting to get loud, having no doubt found out about Arthur's hare-brained idea to use stitches. A man that had come in with Arthur's family turned to Jack, gracing him with a smile. The man was pale and looked rather tired; his light brown hair was shot with gray and his robes were shabby. He strolled over to Jack's bed as Arthur's wife continued to throw her fit, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

"Hello, I'm Remus Lupin," he said. "And you?"

Jack realized he was grateful for the attention, despite himself. "Jack Wolfe."

"Mind if I have a seat?" asked Remus, glancing at the stool by Jack's bedside. He seemed so... disarming.

Jack shrugged. "Why the hell not?"

It wasn't like he had anything better to do.


End.