Disclaimer: Same as in the first chapter. Still not mine.

Author's Note (which no one will read, anyway): Wow! So many reviews! I'm overwhelmed. Thank you so much, I can't believe so many people liked it. I hope this chapter won't disappoint you.

Warnings for this chapter: Attempted rape, mentions of rape, lime

Now betaed: Thank you, jharad17!

2. WATER

The cub was trying to escape again! But this time Fenrir was prepared, and when the white wolf tried to wriggle out from between him and the wall, Fenrir rolled half on top of him to keep his wayward pack member in place.

"No, you don't, cub," he grumbled, burying his hands in the thick white fur. "You'll stay with me, my little wolf. You'll see, I'll take good care of you, now calm down."

In reply, the cub sank his teeth into Fenrir's arm, kicked with his legs to try to get out from under him, and growled angrily.

Fenrir cuffed the wolf warningly, drawing a whine from his pack member. He also received an accusing stare that made him feel like he deserved Azkaban, but he kept a tight hold of his cub.

"Your own fault," he explained gruffly. "If you were reasonable and didn't always run out on me, I wouldn't have to -- Damnit, don't bite me again, you little madcap." The cub's fangs had once again found flesh, this time on his thigh.

The white wolf looked innocently up at him, butting his cold nose against the werewolf's cheek as if to ask what he was talking about.

"You..." Fenrir stopped, unsure of how to continue, but then sighed and began to scratch the cub's soft belly. "Why don't you want to stay, cub? Am I so unlikable in my human form?"

A gentle lick to his nose and a strangely purr-like growl were his answer, and he chuckled, carding his fingers through the fluffy, white fur. Just as he was getting used to the relaxed, peaceful atmosphere, however, the small wolf changed his mind again and started another attempt of escape. This time he managed to break free of Fenrir's embrace and get half way to the door before Fenrir caught him with a lunge, trapping the thin canine under his body. The werewolf growled in annoyance and grabbed the cub by the scruff of his neck, shaking and reprimanding him as he carried him back to the straw.

"Stupid little thing, I told you, you're staying here from now on. Do I have to get forceful?" Fenrir demanded, harshly tucking the white wolf under his blanket and once again pinning him with his weight.

The cub whimpered, panting and wriggling, but Fenrir didn't relent. But then the white wolf went limp, and Fenrir grew worried enough to pull the blanket down, allowing the little one to push his head out of the confinement to gasp for air.

"There you go, little beauty," Fenrir murmured. "Wouldn't want you to suffocate, but you've to stop being such a fool. You'll only get hurt, my wee cub."

He smoothed his hand over the small wolf's head again, and the cub gradually calmed, regained his breath, and passively enjoyed Fenrir's ministrations. Suddenly the young wolf perked up and cocked his ears, and moments later Fenrir could also hear steps and voices in the distance. He cursed softly, looking down on the small wolf, who was once again struggling to get free.

"Shh, now, I have to listen," he whispered to the cub, who surprisingly fell still, allowing him to focus on the noises in the distance. He soon discerned it wasn't merely the usual patrol in the mornings, which would have made it feasible for him to hide the small cub for the short time while they passed his cell, but a larger troop, at least five guards.

The guards had apparently decided it was time for the prisoners to shower and clean up, and as much as he normally looked forward to getting rid of the filth which clung to his skin, making him almost physically sick, today it meant he would have to leave his cub alone, and he didn't doubt he would come back to an empty cell.

"Fine, you win, my little beauty." Fenrir sighed deeply, releasing his cub from under his body and helping him out of the blanket cocoon. "Maybe you'll like me better once I don't stink anymore."

The cub yipped, snatching at his silver hair and sending him a wolfish grin, before trotting to the door and slipping through the silver bars. Fenrir dearly hoped this hadn't been the last time he had seen his cub, and that the white canine would at least join him again on the next full moon. How pathetic was it to be so dependent on and smitten with a simple wolf cub? With a deep groan, he let himself fall back on the straw, closing his eyes and wearily rubbing his flat nose.

How did the cub manage to get into Azkaban time after time? Did he really only come to keep an old werewolf company? How was it that the white wolf seemed to understand everything said to him, and why was he so oblivious to the ways a real wolf should behave: disobeying his Alpha, not lowering his eyes, acting confused when Fenrir marked him with his scent? He startled when he realized what he had thought.

Real wolf?

Of course his cub was a real wolf! What else would he be? Not a werewolf, that was for sure, and the thought of an Animagus, a wizard in disguise, coming to him of all people, was more than laughable. Wizards weren't worth the air they breathed, much less one single thought. So his cub was a real cub who felt drawn to an Alpha. Not exactly likely but still within the realms of possibility. His cub, his little white one, was just special, and he'd be damned if he lost the only companion he had in here. Maybe he could try to offer the little wolf some food? Maybe that was why he left, because he was hungry? But where could he get the wolf something to eat?

The signal to step away from the doors rang through every cell, but as Fenrir was still busy brooding, he didn't react.

"Up, Greyback," a guard's voice commanded. "You especially could use a bit of cleaning-up, you flee-bitten mutt."

Fenrir growled at the young, spindly-legged wizard, who shied back and hastily stepped away from the door to let him pass. The smell of fear was heavy around him, and Fenrir grinned to himself, but he knew better than to cause the guard any trouble that would result in him being locked in again without a shower. Since he had had to give up his cub, he at least wanted to get clean again, unlike some of the other prisoners -- filthy humans, living in their own waste -- and so he obediently joined the line of prisoners, resisting the urge to slam the insolent guard head first into a wall, and meekly trotted to the showers with the others.

The white tiled room made him blink at the brightness, but he didn't halt or hesitate and quickly stripped off his clothes, not in the least self-conscious and knowing his sheer size and muscle volume would keep him safe from any advances from those perverted wizards. By now they all knew better. He glanced at Dolohov, who had learned his lesson the hard way and who now made a point to look anywhere but at him. Fucker.

He grabbed a halfway decent towel from a hook and slung it around his shoulders, then casually leaned against the wall, waiting for the others to finish undressing, when the door to the showers would be unlocked. He didn't understand why they always took so long. Not like they had much clothes to begin with.

Fenrir's head jerked up moments before there was a knock on the door. A slight commotion occurred as if the guards blocking the door weren't sure what to do, but then they unlocked the door. Duren and another man entered, the mysterious prisoner who up until then had been held in solitary confinement.

Duren called for attention. "We've got a new one for you." Jeering interrupted him, and an unpleasant smirk spread over his already unpleasant face. "I'm sure you'll give him a special welcome. Please say hello to Harry Potter."

Silence reigned, and the prisoner slowly lifted his head, looking at all of them yet seeming to see no one. He was heavily chained, and his hands were tied behind his back with a rope which also went around his torso.

"I thought you wanted me to shower," the young man said. His voice was soft, but clear, and he shook off the guard's hand.

With a sneer, Duren unchained the young man, but instead of with his wand, he did it by hand. His touches lingered in inappropriate places, all but groping Potter. Harry remained impassive, his face set in a stony mask, and even when the guard leaned down to whisper something undoubtedly disgusting and lecherous in his ear, he still didn't react. Duren finally drew back, clearly disappointed, and pushed the black-haired man toward the benches.

"Undress; we don't have all day." Duren sneered and watched with lustful eyes as Harry shrugged out of the coverall that seemed several sizes too big for him, neatly folded it, reached for a towel and then secured it around his narrow waist.

Harry then joined the line of prisoners, somehow managing to take the place behind Fenrir, ignoring the respectful distance the other prisoners were keen to give the werewolf. Fenrir sniffed cautiously, a little surprised to detect no scent of fear. Was that boy suicidal?

One of the guards drew his wand, and the door next to Fenrir swung open, so that the prisoners could file into the shower room. The guard passed them a basket with bars of soap, letting each take a piece as they chose a shower head.

"That's my shower, wonder boy," Dolohov declared, and Fenrir turned in time to see him push the new prisoner aside. "Though I wouldn't mind sharing." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and some of the other prisoners laughed with malicious glee, eager for a free show.

"No, thank you. But if I should ever feel the need to associate with the lowest scum, I'll come back to your offer, yes?" The words were accompanied by the most charming and fakest smile Fenrir had ever seen, and though he knew someone with such an attitude wouldn't survive for long, he was mildly impressed.

"No talking, Potter," a guard called. "Or you get no food."

"And that would be different from how much food I get now, how?" Harry asked curiously.

"What?"

The grey-haired guard turned to Duren, who was quick to defend himself, "I offered him something just this morning, but he felt himself too good for it. This has been going on for days now."

Fenrir saw him shift uncomfortably, his hands clasping in front of his body protectively.

The older guard sighed. "What do you have to say for yourself, Potter?"

"I had an appetite for meat." Harry shrugged indifferently. "I'll take a shower now, if you don't mind. I must've come in contact with something filthy."

"You can shower with Dolohov," Duren spoke up, raising his wand and cast a Jellylegs Jinx on Harry, making him lose his balance and stumble back against the Death Eater.

"Shawn, you know what the boss said, you don't need another investigation," one of the guards pointed out to Duren nervously.

"All the showers are taken!" Duren argued heatedly. "And I don't feel like waiting around for him. Remember what he did, Oscar! He doesn't warrant anyone's protection."

The two other guards exchanged looks before the grey-haired one sighed again. "Let's wait outside, then. Better if we don't see anything, it's not our fault if something happens."

They turned their back on the prisoners, though Duren and Dolohov exchanged looks, the one of disappointment and the other of excited expectation.

"Don't forget to make up an alibi," Harry called cheerfully after them. "Wouldn't do for you to have no explanation for why you all just had to leave your charges alone."

The door shut with a bang, and Harry twisted around in Dolohov's hairy arms that held him trapped, and kneed him in the groin. The Death Eater dropped to his knees with a groan.

"I will not be raped," Harry stated simply. "If you touch me again, you will start losing limbs."

"We'll see about that," Dolohov grunted, painfully climbing to his feet. "You aren't special in here, Golden Boy, just my fuck toy, and if you want it rough, you'll have it rough, eh?"

"I just thought I'd warn you," Harry replied softly, keeping a close eye on the older wizard, who approached him slowly. "Three more steps. Two. One..."

Dolohov lunged forward, and Harry took a step sidewards to avoid him, unintentionally getting close to Fenrir, who took the chance to lock Harry in a possessive embrace. The lithe body futilely struggled against his hold, but Fenrir barely noticed as he kept both eyes on the Death Eater.

"Greyback...?"

"He's mine," Fenrir stated, growling softly. "Any problem with that, Dolohov?" He stared him down, satisfied when the Death Eater averted his gaze; He also let his eyes sweep over the other prisoners for good measure. "Good, then that's settled."

He tightened his arms around the young man, all but carried him over to his shower, and backed him against the wall, shielding Harry with his own body. Harry was trembling, but if Fenrir hadn't smelled the fear on him - Intoxicating! - he would have had no other indication that the younger prisoner was scared to death.

"I'll let go of you now," Fenrir grumbled lowly. "Don't try to escape. You're safer with me."

When Fenrir's arms fell away from Harry, he shifted nervously so that the werewolf half expected him to bolt, but then he briefly closed his eyes, and as he opened them again, he was -- outwardly at least -- completely calm.

"What will you do with me?" Harry questioned coolly.

"I intend to take a shower." Fenrir hit the shower button so that cold water cascaded over both of them.

With a inaudible sigh Fenrir reached for his soap and started to wash himself, roughly rubbing the foam over his skin in an attempt to get rid off the frowst he could still smell on himself, before he became aware of Harry still staring at him.

"Wash yourself," he ordered. "I'm not going to rape you."

"I have no soap," Harry stated. "I lost it."

"Here," Fenrir was seriously starting to question not only the boy's sanity but also his own, as he handed his own soap over. Why had he got involved anyway? What did he care if the boy was raped? Just another wizard, right? As if there weren't enough of them running around. If the young man didn't have a sense of self-preservation, it wasn't Fenrir's job to protect him.

"Thank you," finally those green eyes left his, and the former Saviour of the Wizarding World began to scrub at his skin, lathering his body with soap.

Fenrir couldn't help but stare at the lithe beauty. There was no doubt why Dolohov had been so eager to get his hands on him. Harry was of average height, but he barely reached the middle of Fenrir's chest, and he was so thin that he still looked delicate. His hair was pitch-black, soft and silky, his skin pale and smooth. Or at least he thought so, but then Harry turned his back to him, and he could see scars littering the milky skin, criss-crossing over his back and shoulders. They looked like lash marks, like someone had repeatedly taken a whip to him, and the only reason why Fenrir hadn't noticed them before was that they were also white and blended with the unmarred flesh. He growled angrily. How dare someone harm his cub!

His cub?!

His golden eyes widened and his nostrils dilated. "Are you my cub?"

"I don't like it when you call me that," Harry gave back, smiling over his shoulder at him.

Fenrir took a step towards the younger prisoner, invading his personal space. "You are. Why..."

"Dammit, Greyback, what do you need him for if all your going to do is shower?" one of the prisoners, Mulciber, groused. "You could at least give us a show..."

Fenrir spun around in irritation, pinning the other man to the nearest wall with one swift movement. "I'll do whatever the hell I please, Mulciber, and it would do you well to remember I'm no seventeen-year-old boy. Now take a fucking shower, and keep your eyes away from me because if I find you watching me or my new friend, I'll carve your peepers out of your skull and use them to lure some rats to my cell, so I can finally get some meat on my menu, understood?"

Mulciber nodded hastily, and after pushing him hard against the wall once more for good measure, Fenrir released him and returned to Harry and his shower. He backed Harry in the corner once more then sniffed cautiously, the water impeding his sense of smell so that he had to lean closer, snuffling Harry's neck.

"You're no werewolf," he murmured, almost nuzzling the crook of Harry's neck in an attempt to identify his smell. "You're a damned wizard."

"You got that right," Harry whispered in return, pushing lightly against his chest. "Would you mind backing off?"

"They have to believe I'm making good use of you," Fenrir gave back, pressing his body against Harry's. "Or they'll complain to the guards. Duren wouldn't pass the chance to see you being raped, he'd give you to Dolohov or one of the others or use you for himself."

"The hell they have to believe that," Harry hissed at him. "I'll be safer if they think I can take care of myself. And, maybe, if they think you like me. If you rape me, they'll think I'm a whore, or that I'm easy to take down. Besides, I can look after myself," the black-haired man stated. "Duren won't touch me, and I can handle those perverts. Now back off!"

Fenrir laughed. "Well then, show me how you can take care of yourself. Otherwise we'll do it my way."

Harry's knee jerked up, but Fenrir intercepted it easily, wrapping Harry's slender leg around his waist and holding it in place there, his hand slowly wandering to Harry's bottom, reducing the last bit of distance between them.

"You said you wouldn't!" Harry squeaked, hammering his fists against the werewolf's chest and trying to land a punch in his face as well. "Let me go! Let me go, you bastard!"

"That's right, cub, scream, make it more believable," Fenrir muttered absently, scratching with one fingernail over the soft skin between Harry's buttocks until he felt droplets of blood run over his fingers, heavenly.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" The green-eyed man said in a furious whisper. "If you don't stop immediately, I'll never come to your cell again. See if I care that you hurt yourself!"

Fenrir hesitated briefly. He didn't want to lose his cub, but then again this opportunity was too tempting. Such a young, supple body, creamy skin, expressive wide eyes, and that smell! And he didn't doubt Harry would be safer once the other prisoners realised he was taken. The wizards feared him, they wouldn't touch what was his. And Harry undoubtedly was his.

"I'm doing this for you, cub," he murmured and began to slowly rut against Harry, careful not to squish the slender prisoner too much and ignoring the half-angry, half-scared eyes glaring up at him. The scent of blood intermingled with that of fear and the harsh smell of soap. Together with the visuals and the friction he created between their bodies, it didn't take long for Fenrir to find his release, and he came with a loud howl, releasing Harry's leg. He protectively slumped over the delicate form of his pack mate, his cub, making sure all the other prisoners could see was his own broad back.

"Shh, now, my little cub, that wasn't so bad, was it? I barely even touched you," the werewolf whispered soothingly in Harry's ear. "They'll leave you alone now, you're safe, cub."

"Don't call me that!" Harry hissed furiously, angry tears running down his face, and tried to claw at Fenrir's face. "And get away from me."

Fenrir caught Harry's hand with a deep sigh, thumbing Harry's tears away with his other hand before starting to wash away his cum from the wizard's taut, flat stomach. "Come, cub, let's get you cleaned up. It was necessary."

"And I guess you didn't enjoy it at all, did you?" Harry snarled sarcastically, batting his hands away to wash himself. "Don't touch me."

"Behave yourself, little one," Fenrir admonished him not unkindly, handing Harry the soap. "Of course I enjoyed it, but I still want you to come to my cell."

"Well, for that it's too late now." Harry sneered at him. "You had your fun, so..."

"It was necessary," Fenrir repeated. "I saw what happened in here. But you're my cub, and I don't want to see you broken."

"I'm not that easy to break," Harry protested, glaring at him.

"And yet you're bawling your eyes out," Fenrir returned, wondering how he could make his little wolf understand. "Do you see that man on the opposite side of the room in the far left corner? The one with grey hair who doesn't put weight on his right foot? His name is David Travers, he was one of Voldemort's most loyal supporters, hell of a Severing Curse and ruthless to the core. I've never seen him defeated in a duel, with or without wands. But then when they threw him in here, Dolohov and Mulciber and a few others gang raped him in the showers, allegedly because he was a traitor. Duren stood by and did nothing as they broke his pelvic bone and his right leg in several places, caused internal bleeding and so much damage on his psyche I hear him whimpering in his cell all day and all night when he isn't screaming from a nightmare. They raped him several times, but lost interest when he stopped fighting back. I won't allow that to happen to you, under no circumstances, even if you hate me now."

Harry's eyes were fixed on the grey-haired man's emaciated form, the hunched shoulders, and the long angry red scar which ran all the way from Travers' hip to his ankle.

"Why didn't you help him?" he asked softly, tilting his head to look up at the werewolf. "You could have protected him."

"And why would I do that?" Fenrir sneered. "He's a wizard."

"I'm a wizard, too."

Fenrir glared at Harry. "You're my cub!" His cub wasn't a wizard! Wizards were like Dolohov or Duren or Travers. Disgusting, perverted, snivelling, pathetic creatures with no sense of decency or loyalty. His cub wasn't a wizard. He wouldn't allow it!

"I'm a wizard," Harry insisted. "And I wouldn't have let them rape me."

"And how would you have prevented being raped, you stupid cub?" Fenrir growled in irritation. "You couldn't fight me off."

"You're a werewolf," Harry argued, and Fenrir's face darkened in disappointment, wizard, "I would've been able to fight them off."

"Do you think you could've surprised Dolohov once more?" Fenrir's fingernails dug into Harry's skin as he grabbed his shoulders, shaking the slight man in an attempt to make him see reason and perhaps as a petty form of revenge. "Do you think he would've just stood there while you kneed him? How naive are you?!"

"Not naive enough not to see that you could've found another way to protect me," Harry gave back, prying the werewolf's hands from his shoulders.

"This is Azkaban," Fenrir growled. "Respect and friendship isn't enough in here. Even if you had managed to fight them off a dozen times, and if I could have protected you another dozen times, they would have got you on the twenty-fifth try. They won't just stop because they have nothing better to do."

"They don't bother you," Harry observed, looking past the werewolf at the other prisoners, who hardly dared to send them furtive glances.

"That's because I threatened to turn them all into werewolves," Fenrir explained with a bitter look at the smaller man, but nonetheless shifted to hide him again. "Besides, I'm neither particularly good-looking nor as skinny as you. I'm not as tempting a prey as you." He grinned, splashing a bit of water in Harry's face.

"Hey!" Harry exclaimed indignantly, shaking his head. "Fine, so you've got a point, you still could have told me of your oh-so-great plan beforehand."

"I did."

"You didn't, and I won't argue with you over this." Harry narrowed his eyes at him. "You won't touch me like that again."

Fenrir glared right back at him, growling low in his throat. He was an Alpha, no one ordered him around! Least of all some stupid wizard who couldn't even be bothered to be properly grateful for his protection. And to think he had thought Harry could be different. A worthy member of his pack. He was a wizard after all.

"You bet I will if I feel like it!"

"You're forgiven for now, but don't think I won't go through with my threat to never come to visit you again," Harry replied evenly.

Fenrir felt his heart drop; No!

"I won't spend my time with some pervert."

Fenrir made to reach out once more to the pale youth, but thought better of it. He needed Harry, especially at the full moons, he couldn't risk losing him. Even if Harry was just like all the other wizards, he was still company, and Fenrir could bear with his prejudices if that meant the end of his loneliness. And though sex would have been a bonus - one he intended to get eventually - he'd appreciate any kind of company.

"Good, then that's settled," Harry said mockingly, turning his back towards him to wash off the soap.

"Don't..."

"Shower time is over," one of the guard's called, and Fenrir drew back reluctantly, trying to keep Harry behind him.

Harry did seem to trust him at least enough to stay close to him -- or maybe he had at least some common sense.

Fenrir stiffened when they passed Duren, swiftly moving himself between the guard and his cub. Duren's face fell, his lacivious eyes still glued to Harry's form. Fenrir growled deep in his throat, but before he could do something he may later have regretted, his attention was drawn to Harry again.

Dolohov seemingly had recovered from Fenrir's earlier threat and had grabbed Harry's ass and tried to pull Harry into his arms. Harry struggled, landing a few kicks and punches, but as much as Fenrir thought it would serve Harry right to find out exactly how well he could take care of himself, or not, he also knew that Duren was just waiting for a chance to satisfy his sick pleasures after all.

Thus, Fenrir quickly grabbed the Death Eater's wrist and broke it with a deliberate twist and careless pressure. "Don't ever touch what is mine," he growled. He pulled Harry to his side and wrapped a possessive arm around the thin waist. "Until I say I've tired of him, I don't even want you looking at him. That fine piece of ass is mine, and mine alone. Is that clear?"

Dolohov was still whimpering in pain, but some of the other prisoners grunted in agreement or nodded. Satisfied, Fenrir turned back to an even-paler-than-usual Harry, then roughly wrapped both towels around his slender form. "Tonight, come to my cell," the werewolf ordered in a whisper. "Do you understand? I won't take no for an answer. And keep your head down."

"'kay, thanks," Harry mumbled, pressing himself into the silver-haired werewolf's side as they followed the others into the changing room, where Fenrir did his best to ward off any looks at his new charge.

Harry had barely slipped into his coverall when Duren grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to the door where he chained him again, hands behind his back. "Alright, Potter, you had enough fun for today."

Duren's hand once again lingered on Harry's bottom, and Fenrir would have loved to chew it off, but just managed to control himself when Harry sent him a warning look. Harry was separated from the others and led back to his solitary cell in the very depths of Azkaban.

Fenrir felt some of the prisoners glancing surreptitiously at him and heard a whispered "How was it?" An angry growl shut them up.

He couldn't wait until tonight.

It's review time again! Yay! Now you get to tell me all the things you always wanted to tell me. Of course, it would be great if they actually related to the story, but I'm open for everything #grins#.

Until next week!