Title: Full Crow Moon [A certain furry quadroped]
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating/Warnings: G
Summary: The moon pulls more than tides.
A/N: My own little creature does this all the time when i leave the
window open.
The creature padded silently across the ledge and
paused a moment, as if he sensed something moving just beyond the range
of his senses. He stood poised, one paw lifted just barely off the
ground, caught halfway into a step, so still that he might not have
been even breathing.
At last he relaxed enough to lower his paw to the ground and before
continuing to the edge of the ledge. He paused again, the night breeze
ruffling his fur slightly, before sitting on his haunches, peering out
into the darkness of the spring night, tail curling around his feet.
Below his ledge was spread out trees and hills as far as the eye could
see, all bleached silver and black in the moonlight. The creature could
only see black and white, but the moon made things look different
anyway, the shadows deeper and the distances blurred.
His ears flicked back and forth several times as he regarded the trees
below in somber silence, then tilted his head up to the full moon above
him. The light of the moon reflected weirdly in his eyes, making his
usually dark pupils glow eerie shades of green and red on either side
of his broad head. His dark fur would have rendered him completely
invisible from below if not for his eyes.
The breeze grew stronger, and he leaned back on his
hind legs, lifting his snout to scent the air. He drew in a deep breath
and closed his eyes as the smells washed over him, his keen nose
picking out evergreens and grass, lake water and fish, and innumerable
forest-dwellers, things that scurried or flew or ran through the trees.
Everything except the scents he wanted. He stretched
out yet farther, a forepaw leaving the ground as he searched the air in
vain, snout wrinkling with effort. No smell was comforting, none
brought back memories of snufflings by wet noses, or pokes from
antlers, or any number of nights under full moons just like this, the
air smelling of pack instead of this awful, anonymous forest that
teemed with life, but held nothing familiar.
Finally, he lowered his paw and his head sank back down. Eyes opened
and scanned the forest a last time, pointlessly. If he couldn't scent
pack there was no point in trying to see them from here, but he scanned
the horizon anyway because that was how the ritual went, because there
was still a chance that they might appear at the edge of the trees and
wave him down to join them.
The creature had simple emotions which usually only occurred one at a
time, and at that moment loneliness welled up in him, the desire to
scent and touch and run with pack filled his chest, rising in his
throat until he had no choice but to throw back his head and let it
pour out of his throat in a wild, mournful, aching song.
"What on earth is Scabbers squeaking about over
there?" Oliver demanded. "I'm trying to study!"
Percy looked up from his own desk and reached over
to tap his rat on the snout. Startled, Scabbers dropped to hunch,
blinking at Percy for a moment before sneezing and reaching up to
scratch his side with a back paw.
"Who knows," Percy shrugged, rubbing Scabbers behind
the ears for a moment before returning to his homework.
"Shouldn't let him run loose all over your desk like
that," Oliver grumbled, returning to his own work. "He's going to fall
right out that window sooner or later."
The creature scratched his side on last time before
turning back to the full moon and the forest below. Whiskers bristled
as he drew another deep breath in, he lay down on the edge of the
windowsill, head pillowed on his paws and nose poking out into the
night, the tip of his tail twitching every time a breeze blew over him,
rippling dark fur.
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