A/N: This is my first time writing any sort of Harry Potter fanfiction, so be gentle on me. XD This story has m/m, so if you don't like, then don't read. It's a song-fic as well. I own nothing and I'm not profiting off of this in any way. I hope you enjoy my story! R&R!
Crossing the Frame
Home
A silence between glares
That stutters words misleading
Here
Give me all you got with one shot
Sent to lend me
No…
Fenrir Greyback was not human, not by a long shot. He was a werewolf, a creature of the moonlight, and he was damn proud of it too. Ever since he had become a werewolf, he had learned that witches and wizards had very little respect and general tolerance for his kind, which angered him considerably. Who were they to believe themselves to be so high and mighty? Compared to the awesome strength and power a werewolf possessed, they were nothing, even if they were in charge.
But he had had a plan: he was going to bite as many children as possible and shape them into werewolves much like himself. The goal was to outnumber the wizarding population and overthrow them and their ignorant, intolerable ways. That goal was what he had been working on when the Dark Lord returned once again to wreck chaos, terror, and havoc on the wizarding world. Voldemort promised him all of the prey he could ever want, and who was Fenrir to decline the blood and flesh that he desired so much? So, he readily agreed to assist him in his mission to kill Harry Potter and rule over the entire wizarding world.
However, things didn't go according to plan. Not by a long shot. Somehow, Harry Potter had defeated the Dark Lord; light had prevailed over darkness. Many of the Death Eaters were killed, arrested, or fled. Fenrir himself was surprised that he was still alive, considering he had been hit by that spell that that Muggle born witch had blasted him with. After regaining consciousness, he managed to flee and return to the territory he had roamed prior to Voldemort's return. But he didn't stay there for very long. A year, give or take a few months, and he was searching, hunting, for the one thing, the one person, who hadn't left his mind since he first laid eyes on him.
Here across the grass
Between the glass
I know…
You're not the one I left
To wait here, helping
Harry Potter had constantly been on his mind since Fenrir had first laid eyes on him. He wasn't entirely sure why he couldn't get the green eyed boy out of his mind and he didn't understand what was happening to him. Although werewolves, like wolves, had mates, he wasn't sure if Harry was his mate. Fenrir didn't feel any different and he didn't smell any scents that hinted that Harry had been his mate. And yet, the Boy Who Lived was a constant presence in his thoughts.
It angered him. He wasn't used to not knowing something about being a werewolf. Other members of his pack told him prior to his leaving that Harry might be his mate, all things considered. Even if he didn't actually feel different yet, they said, that could change and, if it did, then he'd have found his mate. His life partner. Someone whom his soul would recognize, they said. Fenrir doubted such a thing. After all, he had been evil, was still evil, and there was no way that someone like him could have a mate. A mate was a blessing, a wonderful and lovely bless, and one that he most definitely didn't deserve, or want.
Okay, that was a lie. Fenrir did want Harry, if only to put a stop to all of the thoughts and the confusion. Maybe if he slaughtered Harry, killed him mercilessly, the thoughts would go away. A tiny voice in the back of his mind told him that that method wouldn't work, but he ignored it. Instead, he left his pack and followed his nose to wherever Harry was. It took him a little longer than he had anticipated to find him, but he did. When he arrived outside of the home that Harry Potter resided in, Fenrir noticed that Harry's wasn't the only scent that was all over the place. Another scent, one he vaguely recognized but couldn't put a face or name to, also wafted all around the home, and Harry himself. For some reason, Fenrir didn't like that, but he didn't take any immediate action. Instead, he stalked the place and watched it, waiting and learning before he made his kill.
I… I left in a sudden rush
And never said why you
Couldn't know that
I had no good-byes
But I wish that you were
(I'm spying on you, Newo)
The way that you would've been if
I stayed here at home
(I'm giving it up, Newo)
How important I could've been to you
After observing Harry's home for a few days, Fenrir found out a few things, some of which made him want to tear something apart.
Harry was gay, which, for some reason, excited him and made him and his wolf happy. He was still as stunning and as flawless as he had been when Fenrir last saw him, if not more so, and that made Fenrir even more excited. However, Harry was definitely not single, which annoyed and kind of pissed off the werewolf, and he was living with the remaining Weasley twin, George. And their relationship wasn't just one of close friends or anything of the sort. No, it was an intimate and sexual relationship, and it made Fenrir's skin crawl and made his wolf growl and snarl.
Just the thought of that red headed wizard touching Harry angered him. More than it should have, actually, and that kind of startled Fenrir. He wasn't used to being possessive over those who didn't belong to him, and Harry most certainly did not belong to him. Not by a long shot, as a matter of fact. Hell, Harry had probably forgotten about him and wouldn't even remember him if the werewolf broke into his house and started snarling and yelling at him.
Press the steps I take to cross your door frame if
You decide to answer when my fist rings hello
I… I left in a sudden rush
And never said why you
Couldn't know that
I had no good-byes
Instead of leaving and returning to his pack or killing Harry like he had planned on, Fenrir stayed and observed Harry and that Weasley whelp. Watching Harry as he got up and readied himself for work, coming home, and just being there always managed to catch Fenrir's attention. He felt calmer, more peaceful, when he could observe Harry by himself, with no Weasley in sight. It was almost as though the two of them were having their own alone time and he liked it. A lot more than he probably should have, but he liked it nonetheless. Yes, he may have been acting like a stalker, but he really didn't care about that. How could one not find Harry fascinating in everything that he did?
Every movement, every gesture, every word uttered were all done so with a grace and gentility that shocked Fenrir. Being seen as a creature that was far beneath wizards, he had always thought of those who aren't werewolves as vile and untrustworthy. And while Voldemort offered him prey, Harry offered him something new, something different. He wasn't quite sure what it was that Harry offered him, but he wanted more. More than anything, he wanted to possess Harry, to own him, to do whatever the hell he wanted to with him. To hear Harry's moans and gasps, to see his blood trickle from a cut or laceration, to see him withering in pain would be the most thrilling and exciting experience ever. Fenrir probably should have used his head, but he was a werewolf and he seldom neglected his instincts, and his instincts were telling him that he had to have Harry.
There was just one little problem: Harry was taken by that Weasley moron. That, more than anything else, angered Fenrir to the point where he wanted to murder the red headed wizard. Granted, that wouldn't be too hard to do and it had been so long since he had tasted blood and flesh. So why had he not done so already?
But I wish that you were
(I'm spying on you, Newo)
The way that you would have been if
I stayed here at home
(I'm giving it up, Newo)
How important I could've been to you
He was too enthralled, to fascinated by watching Harry to have even thought of doing so previously. However, now that he had thought of it, Fenrir realized that killing the Weasley would be the easiest thing in the world to do. Yes, he was a wizard and had taken part in the Battle of Hogwarts, but he, like so many others, had become comfortable and too lax now that the Dark Lord had been killed. It wouldn't be too hard to surprise him with an attack and take Harry away from the house. Doing so would be all too easy for him, considering his massive build and strength.
And he had the right opportunity to do so as well! There were numerous times that the Weasley was home and Harry wasn't. Fenrir could have easily broken into the house and killed the ginger with little to no effort. After all, he was feared and respect as being one of the greatest, if not the greatest, werewolf alive. Killing one wizard wouldn't have been the most difficult task imaginable.
Yet, he didn't do it. How could he when, on the night he had made his decision, Harry turned his entire world upside down?
Casting quarters into wells that hold our dreams
You won't believe me if I told you so
Casting quarters into wells that hold our dreams
You won't believe me…
I wouldn't if you told me so
As was the norm for that particular hour of the night, Harry and the Weasley were getting ready for bed. Fenrir was positioned at a certain spot so that he could see into the window of the bedroom. Although it was on the second floor, from his position, he could see fairly well. As long as he got to see Harry, that was all that mattered. So, he remained rooted to the spot and watched and listened as Harry and the Weasley got ready for bed. Just listening to Harry's voice excited him and made him anxious to get this over with. He would have waited until Harry left for work, but he didn't want to have to wait for the boy to come home. Taking him and leaving, getting him far away from the house and taking him to a secluded spot so that he could do whatever he wanted to with him, was his main priority.
After Harry had changed into his night clothes, the Weasley got himself ready for bed. Fenrir's heart began to beat wildly as he listened and watched as Harry approached the window to look out into the dark abyss surrounding his home. As green eyes scanned the darkness, they fell on Fenrir and the werewolf perked up a little bit, both pleased and slightly unnerved that Harry had spotted him. However, as he looked into those green orbs of the man he had been desiring and craving, a realization struck him so hard that he was almost brought to his knees. A dull ache began to build up in his chest and soon became an incredibly painful sensation. The realization wounded his pride and upset and angered both himself and his wolf, although they were both whimpering like a dog with its tail between its legs.
Harry saw right through him. It was as though Fenrir wasn't even there. His green eyes didn't widen when they saw him nor did they fill with fear or curiosity or any other emotion. They remained as they were. And it wasn't because Fenrir was disguising himself because he wasn't and hadn't been doing so ever since he had arrived. Harry genuinely saw right through him, like he could see through the air or something that wasn't tangible. That realization struck him to his core and Fenrir found himself at a complete loss. What was he to do now? How could he take the Boy Who Lived away from all that he had known when Harry probably didn't even know who he was or wasn't even aware of his existence?
Unsure of what to do and not really wanting to even try to understand, Fenrir watched dejectedly as Harry moved away from the window and made his way to bed. The lights went out and Fenrir found himself growling and tearing away from the house as fast as he could. What was the point in even trying to take Harry when he wasn't even sure of what he wanted to do? Growling and snarling, he tore off as fast as his legs would take him and made his way back to his pack. Perhaps someday he would try again, but he doubted it. All he wanted to do now was find something to rip and tear, preferably something that was human and could bleed, and ignore the painful stabbing sensation. Fenrir prided himself of being a werewolf and he wasn't going to allow his pack to see him in the state he was now, all thanks to the Boy Who Lived.
But I wish that you were
(I'm spying on you, Newo)
The way that you would've been if
I stayed here at home
(I'm giving it up, Newo)
How important I could've been to you…