Disclaimer: See first chapter!
Author's Note: Damnit! I forgot to save the corrected chapter, and now I had to do all the corrections again. So annoying! Anyway, thanks for all your reviews. I hope the replies have all the necessary "o"s since my o-key doesn't work properly anymore, if not, I hope they were at least understandable... Hope you'll like this chapter..
Beta: jharad17, thank you.
3. FOOD
He would come. Of course he would come, he had promised after all. As if you could trust a wizard. Fenrir groaned. Harry just had to come. Only a few hours had passed since he had protected Harry in the showers, but it had been enough time for his mind to bombard him with doubts if Harry would keep his word, if Fenrir would ever see his cub again. He had waited impatiently for the guards to make their usual evening round, checking on the prisoners, making sure that all the doors were locked and undamaged. But now everything was silent, Harry could come now. He would come soon, he would.
The soft scraping of claws over the stone floor made him perk up, and a grin spread over his bearded face when he saw the small white canine trot along the corridor towards his cell. Yes!
His smile froze, when instead of coming to him, Harry slipped through the bars of the cell opposite of his, totally ignoring his calls and beckonigs.
Of course, Harry would deem some pathetic wizard more important than him. Fenrir tuned out the little voice in his head that tried to tell him compassion was hardly a bad trait. Wizards were all the same! Why did his cub have to be a damned wizard? He sighed deeply, but focussed back on his little white wolf. He couldn't just give up his pack member again, even if his wolf was a wizard.
In the other cell, Harry yipped softly. He trotted to the shivering figure curled up on the cot, and nudged the prisoner gently.
"Please... no..." the man whimpered, and Harry nudged him again, then tugged on the tattered coverall hanging off Travers' thin body.
Fenrir growled. What was the stupid cub doing? Harry's place was with him and not with anybody else. He shifted closer to the door to have a good view of what was happening between the Death Eater and his cub and strained his ears so that no word that was spoken would escape his notice. Werewolf hearing did come in handy once in a while.
Finally, the older prisoner turned and stared wide-eyed at the white wolf, who carefully touched the man's sunken cheek with his cold, black nose.
"What?" Travers whispered brokenly. Instead of drawing back, he buried his hands deep in Harry's thick snowy fur, clutching him. "Is this death?"
Harry did his best to shake his head, soothingly licking over Travers' cheek and nose.
Fenrir growled. No one was to touch his cub!
"Are you a Patronus, then?" Travers asked hoarsely, and after hesitating briefly, Harry gave a small nod; after all, he was here to give Travers new hope and to protect him.
The Death Eater sighed in relief, sinking back on his cot and closing his eyes. "Maybe I'll at least be able to sleep without nightmares with you here, though I'd prefer dying."
Harry's teeth lightly grazed the wizard's skin to admonish him, and the grey-haired man chuckled mirthlessly, patting the dingy mattress beside him. "You can't blame me, can you? I doubt you'd be here if you didn't understand," he murmured almost to himself. "There were six, said I had betrayed our Lord, sold them out. I wouldn't hesitate to sell them out now, and if our Lord ever gets us out of here, I'll make sure to fight on the other side of those bastards." His fingers absently carded through Harry's fur, and Harry couldn't help the happy rumbling in his chest.
Little bitch! Fenrir's eyes turned yellow with anger and possessiveness. He understood how it was now. Harry wanted a protector in here and figured a muscular werewolf would do well enough, and so he had schemed and made Fenrir dependent on him because the werewolf needed company, how ever deplorable it might be. But he would show Harry his place; his protection came at a price. He smirked. If Harry wanted to take advantage of Fenrir's strength, Fenrir would take advantage of something else.
Travers was still patting the white cub, murmuring softly, "You're a good listener, aren't you? Or maybe you just enjoy being patted... But I don't mind, it's supposed to be good to talk about traumatic experiences, isn't it?" Harry nuzzled his neck encouragingly and rolled around on his back so Travers would stroke his belly, which he did with a small laugh.
"At least pretend to listen, okay? I never believed what they said about prison life, just thought they were exaggerating to keep the bad guys from being bad, but when I came in here... the Dementors, they weren't the worst of it. The first three times I fought, I had to see a healer after each time, but then I just let it happen. I didn't have the strength anymore, and it only seemed to make it worse." His face twisted into a painful grimace, and he started to tremble; Harry snuggled closer to him, trying to show his support. "They've stopped now, several years back actually, but I still have nightmares and sometimes I feel them staring at me..." He sobbed. "Today, with that Potter boy, Merlin help me, but I was glad it was him and not me."
Harry growled softly. Then he realised Travers was much too scared to be responsible for what he had done or rather not done, so he merely swiped his wet tongue over Travers' face, licking away the tears.
The Death Eater weakly pushed Harry away. The wolf drew back and watched him curiously as he pulled the thin blanket over himself. "Good night, little Patronus. Thanks for listening, or at least letting me pet you."
Harry nudged him one last time before padding back over to the cell door -- Finally, Fenrir thought. -- but a soft voice stopped the cub again, "Please stay until I've fallen asleep."
A smile spread over Harry's wolf face, and he returned to Travers' side, lying down next to him, close enough to feel the man's irregular breathing which only evened out after a long time.
Harry slowly got up, careful not to wake the sleeping man, and slipped out of the cell.
"Cub, come here, now!" Fenrir ordered from his cell, but Harry ignored him once again, and fled down the corridor to a dark corner.
Fenrir growled in irritation, masking the relief he felt when Harry returned, carrying his coveralls in his mouth, and finally slipped into Fenrir's own cell. The wolf hesitated briefly before he changed back into Harry and dressed before turning around.
To Fenrir's surprise, Harry immediately moved closer and embraced him. "Thank you for helping me in the showers."
Fenrir grunted, but stopped Harry from leaving his arms again, instead grabbing him harshly around the waist. "Finished with your snuggling? You reek of wizard, Potter."
"I am a wizard." Harry scowled and tried to draw back. "What is your problem? You wanted me here, but I'll leave..."
Fenrir sneered, tightening his hold. "My problem is that you're a spoilt little brat who thinks he's something better, just because you could produce sparks if you had a wand."
"You're the only one who thinks he's something better," Harry hissed. "I thanked you, didn't I? I admit I was foolish in the showers, and it could have ended much worse if you hadn't helped me. But what you did shocked me, and it wasn't a very nice way of protecting me. You've acted like an arrogant jerk..."
"Of course I'm arrogant! You deserve no better, leading me on and making me believe you were a wolf, that you enjoyed spending time with me. But you are just like all the other wizards, after all. But guess what? I won't be your pet werewolf, you'll be mine!" Fenrir tugged Harry even closer, lowering his mouth to Harry's neck and allowing his wolf to take over, his incisors sharpening and lengthening into fangs.
"Don't," Harry whispered softly, but didn't try to draw back, instead nuzzling his nose against Fenrir's cheek and neck, like he would have done in his wolf form. "If you bite me, you will be alone again."
"How wrong you are," Fenrir mocked, licking over the soft white skin. Nibbling, but without yet breaking the skin. "You'll be my little bitch."
"The guards will find out. They won't leave me here for the full moon. Or do you honestly think they would do anything to make either of us feel better?" Harry argued. "I'll be locked somewhere else."
"They won't find out," the werewolf returned, unmoved. "I'll call you on the full moon, and you won't be able to disobey. You'll come to me like an obedient little puppy."
"And I'll bite every prisoner in here, won't I?" Harry stated. "I'm small enough to get into every cell, and I won't be able to control myself. The guards will call for reinforcement, and the Ministry will send Aurors with silver weapons to terminate us all. Great plan, really."
Fenrir growled testily, but drew back, forcing his wolf back down. "Fine, I won't bite you."
"Good," Harry smiled at him. "You had me worried there for a moment."
"Sure didn't show it," Fenrir grumbled, wondering what Harry was playing at now.
Harry laughed. "If you were faced with an aggressive dog, you wouldn't run away either, would you? Would provoke it even more."
"I'm not a dog!" Fenrir snapped, baring his teeth.
"I didn't say you were," Harry tried to appease him. "It was an analogy. It wasn't meant as an insult. You would have bitten me if I'd struggled, right?"
"Maybe," Fenrir admitted grudgingly.
"Okay, how about we start anew?" Harry offered. "And you're kind of hurting me, so if you could stop digging your hands into my hips?"
Fenrir released him reluctantly, immediately regretting it when Harry changed back into his wolf form and left the cell.
"Hey! Stupid cur, what are you doing? I thought we had a deal? That's what I get for trusting a wizard," the werewolf barked. When Harry, barely out of the cell, spun around and came back to him, he fell silent.
The white wolf skipped around him, until Fenrir crouched and caught him gently. Once he had Harry as his cub again, he relaxed. "Don't do that ever again," he ordered, but couldn't help a grin when Harry licked his cheek and chin. "I thought you were leaving again."
He began to pat the small white wolf, rubbing him behind the ears and drawing a happy purr-like growl from the canine. Harry nudged his head against Fenrir's hand, pressing closer to him in an attempt to get more of Fenrir's touch.
"Why can't you always be like this?" Fenrir murmured, then sighed when Harry's green eyes looked up at him. "Change back. We have to talk."
Harry drew back, then transformed and slipped into his coveralls again before looking up at Fenrir. "I'm different because you're different. You don't like me as a wizard."
Fenrir merely grunted, sighing inaudibly, and then gruffly held out a piece of slightly mouldy bread. "Here, eat."
Harry blinked in surprise. "What is that?"
"Food, obviously. You said Duren didn't give you anything, and I don't want you to starve to death," Fenrir replied, impatiently pressing the bread into Harry's hand. "It isn't much, but it's better than nothing."
Harry's lips split into a half-grin, half-smile, but to Fenrir's surprise he handed the piece of bread back to the werewolf. "I'm not hungry, and I thought you wanted to talk. About what?"
"About what?" Fenrir echoed incredulously. "Well, for example, how you can turn into a wolf, how you can leave your cell, why the hell you aren't hungry after being starved? Just things like that."
Harry cocked his head. "You still haven't figured it out? Let's see, I can change at will, I have no problem with silver and you didn't tear me to shreds...
"You're an Animagus," Fenrir interrupted him, absently toying with the bread.
"100 points, Sherlock." Harry clapped his hands, and Fenrir growled.
Fenrir's eyes yellowed in anger. "Don't get cheeky with me, cub. I can snap your neck if I want to."
"But then you'd have to figure the answers to the other questions all of your own," Harry reminded with a teasing smile.
"And the answers would be? How did you get here?" Fenrir demanded to know, once again taking a hold, but this time a much more gentler one, of Harry's hips. "Are the guards stupid enough to have the bars of your cell so far apart that you can slip through?"
The black-haired wizard glanced down at his large hands, but didn't comment. "No, my cell has a heavy iron door. I get out the same way I would have protected myself against Dolohov: I can still do magic."
Afterwards, Fenrir thought he must have stared and gaped at Harry quite stupidly, and his voice was strangely croaky, "Show me! Show me."
Harry jerked his arm up, sending sparks to the ceiling, sparks which remained and shimmered down on them like stars. "Nothing too powerful, but to open my cell door and fight off perverts, it's more than enough."
"Not enough to fight off me," Fenrir observed, rubbing over Harry's hipbones. "And still you came. Why?"
"Because I wanted to," Harry said simply. "I'm not helpless, not even against a big bad wolf."
"Could have fooled me," Fenrir gave back. "I could smell the fear on you. Suits you, very enticing."
He lowered his nose to Harry's neck, taking a deep sniff. Fear. A tremor went through the slender body. Beautiful. Suddenly he was pushed back with such great force a normal man would have been thrown into the wall, unconscious, but he only stumbled a few steps back.
Fenrir chuckled deeply, straightening up from the delicious scent of Harry's skin. "You're right, not quite so helpless, but you don't have to be afraid, my cub. I was merely getting acquainted."
"I don't even know your name, so there's no way we're getting 'acquainted'," Harry snapped, rubbing his hands over his hips where Fenrir's grip had left bruises. "I refuse to use my body to pay for your protection, which I didn't ask for, by the way. If you're horny, find another way to sate your sex drive."
Fenrir growled angrily. Typically human to assume werewolves were brute beasts driven by baser instincts. The voice inside, which pointed out how he had all but molested Harry in the showers and also threatened to make the young man his whore, was promptly ignored. It wasn't his fault Harry was deliberately misinterpreting the facts. If Harry wasn't so prejudiced, he wouldn't be so skittish and assume only the worst of Fenrir.
It was Harry's own fault.
"I said I wouldn't rape you, and I won't!"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course you won't; I won't let you. But I don't like to be fondled either. And I still don't know your name, so I think we should start getting acquainted that way."
"Fenrir Greyback," the werewolf grumbled, watching Harry for any sign of recognition, but found none.
Was he already forgotten in the world outside? Dismissed as unimportant, negligible, harmless? He shook himself. No, it couldn't be. Harry was just very ignorant. Wizards still feared him. They better had.
"My turn. Why did they throw you in here?" Fenrir demanded. Most likely, Harry's crime had been something like calling the Minister a blubbering, incompetent fool, since he seemed to mouth off to everyone, including Fenrir himself - Cheeky, little bugger.
"Murder."
Okay, he hadn't expected that; Harry didn't look like he could harm a fly, much less kill it. "Who did you kill?"
"No-one."
"Ah, so you are one of the innocent," Fenrir taunted. "Too ashamed to admit to what you did, are you?"
"If you say so." Harry shrugged. "It's not like it makes a difference now, does it? We're all here for the rest of our miserable lives, and if they can make our lives a bit more miserable, all the better."
"I thought you were their Saviour. At least, Voldemort was afraid of you."
"How flattering. Obviously I became a menace just as bad as Voldemort, and they thought it prudent to lock away at least one of us. I'm the lucky winner." Harry smiled humourlessly. "What about you?"
"I'm a werewolf. Isn't that enough of a reason to throw me in here?" Fenrir retorted cynically. "I couldn't expect a fair trial, so my assigned counsel forewent a trial altogether. Less paper work, I suspect."
Harry nodded as if he understood, and for a moment, Fenrir almost believed he did. Then he realised how stupid that was, and before Harry could demand a real answer, he cut in with the one question he had been meaning to ask since the very beginning. The only question which really mattered to him.
"Why did you come to me here during the full moon?"
"I wanted to," Harry replied, elaborating when Fenrir growled, "I became an Animagus for the benefit of another werewolf, but I never got the chance to spend the full moon with him. I was arrested before I could. Then, when I came here, I heard your howls, and you sounded hurt and lonely. I thought my company would help you."
"Why did you leave?" Fenrir asked, quenching the inexplicable urge to pull the slender youth close.
"I had to get back to my cell before the guards came to check on me, and I didn't think you would want me to stay." Fenrir snorted, throwing the other man an incredulous look.
"What did you think I wanted to gain by trying to keep a hold of you?"
"I meant in my human form," Harry corrected. "Death Eaters normally aren't too fond of ex-Golden Boys, and you just now proved me right."
"I'm no Death Eater. I was an ally of Voldemort, but I never felt the need to let him brand his mark into my skin."
"Huge difference," Harry retorted sarcastically. "Anyway, it doesn't matter to me who you support. You still don't like me when I'm not in my wolf form."
Fenrir snorted. "You wizards are all the same. Of course, you'd blame this on me, wouldn't you? The stupid, simple-minded werewolf who hates the understanding and helpful wizard who's just trying to help. I'm not here because of anything I've done, but because of who I am. To you, to them, I'm a monster! And they punish me in hopes of squeezing the werewolf out of me, but guess what? I'm past redemption, past retribution, past reforming. I'll die here, and I'll die the same monster I am now. Bad luck for you, Potter!"
Harry poked him in the chest, glaring at him. "Firstly, I'm not the one who put you in here, and while I know the Ministry and the Wizarding world's view on werewolves are less than favourable, I would really prefer it if you didn't tell me what I'm to think, according to you. I came to you, not because I hoped to gain a protector, but because you were hurting yourself and because I enjoy your company when you're not acting like a... like a bulldog!"
"A bulldog?" Fenrir asked incredulously. "Your comparing me to a bulldog?"
"Yes, a bulldog. I don't like bulldogs, but that's not the point," Harry stated. "The point is, I wanted to help you because you were lonely and hurting, and you're throwing it in my face."
"You are a very strange boy, Potter." Fenrir's lips quirked in amusement. He grasped Harry's hand and pressed it to his chest. "I've never seen a convicted murderer who cared about a werewolf's loneliness."
"No?" Amusement flashed in the bright green eyes. "I guess I'm unique then... So, does this mean you'll keep your hands off me so I'll visit on the next full moon?"
"I'll refrain from touching you if you promise to come here every night," Fenrir stated, scooping Harry up before he could protest and depositing him on his make-shift bed. "You'll stay the night and sleep here."
Harry scowled at him. "I don't like to be ordered around or manhandled."
"Too bad for you, cub." Fenrir grinned wolfishly. He kneeled next to Harry and put one heavy hand on Harry's shoulder to keep him in place. "You're my pack now, and therefore I get to order you around and manhandle you all I want."
Harry's eyes narrowed, spitting green fire, and a second wave of magic hit Fenrir in the chest. This time he was prepared for it, and instead of losing his balance, he pulled Harry into a possessive embrace, wrapping his arms, legs and whole body around the thin wizard. Harry fought against his hold, but the werewolf had no problem containing him, and gradually the struggles died down. However, Fenrir knew better than to release Harry just yet.
"Now, my little cub, you can eat the bread if you want, before we go to sleep," he murmured mockingly. "There'll be no escaping tonight."
"I won't eat your stupid moldy bread," Harry returned. "If I wanted to eat, I'd eat something I like and not rotten food that'll make me sick."
"Well, sorry, princess, but it's either this or nothing, and I won't have you die of starvation," Fenrir replied sarcastically.
"I'm not about to starve," Harry protested. "And I'm not hungry."
"You haven't eaten in days. Duren admitted as much," Fenrir argued. "And even if you'd been fed regularly, the portions here aren't nearly large enough to sustain your health."
"Just because Duren didn't allow me food, doesn't mean I didn't eat," Harry stated. He shifted in Fenrir's arms and sighed in relief when Fenrir's hold relented at least marginally. "By the way, you look healthy enough to me, and I'm sure you eat more than I do."
"I catch rats and doves from time to time, to supplement my diet," Fenrir grumbled uncomfortably. "But they've learned to avoid my cell."
Harry twisted around, peering up at him with curious green eyes. "Are you hungry?"
"I'm always hungry," the werewolf replied bitterly. "But at least I don't look like an -- admittedly rather attractive -- stick on two legs."
"I was always thin. My relatives... didn't like me eating their food," Harry murmured, closing his eyes briefly as if in pain. "I don't feel hunger, but if you let me sit up, I can get you something to eat."
"And how do you plan to do that?" Fenrir asked skeptically but allowed Harry to sit up, settling the younger man between his own muscular legs, with one arm wrapped around the thin waist assuring that Harry would stay in place.
"Dobby?" Harry called softly. "Dobby?"
A soft pop dispelled the expectant silence, and a weird-looking creature with long-fingered hands, large feet, big yellow eyes and floppy ears appeared before them, wearing a mismatched assortment of clothes.
To Fenrir, the creature looked very much like his next meal and only vaguely like a house-elf. He growled hungrily.
"Master Harry Potter, sir," the house-elf squeaked in greeting, performing a deep bow before bouncing up and down on its toes. "Master Harry Potter has called and Dobby comes. What can Dobby be doing for Master Harry Potter, sir? Dobby is so happy Master Harry Potter remembered him. Dobby was very, very worried about Master Harry Potter. Stupid wizards throw kind Master Harry Potter in here because they are stupid and don't understand. But Dobby will always come if Master Harry Potter calls, sir, oh, yes, he will."
"Thank you, Dobby." Harry smiled at him. "You're a true friend." Dobby beamed. "Would it be too much trouble..."
"Oh, no, Dobby will gladly do everything for Master Harry Potter, sir. No trouble at all, and if it is trouble, Dobby will do it even gladlier." The house-elf nodded vigorously, his pointy ears flapping wildly. "What can Dobby do for Master Harry Potter, sir?"
"I was wondering if you could bring Fenrir here some food without anyone noticing?" Harry asked softly, while giving the tiny creature a pleading look.
"Dobby will bring food for you immediately, sirs, and no-one will know. Wizards don't want to notice house-elves, but Master Harry Potter is different. Master Harry Potter is the greatest wizard alive." Dobby bowed and popped away again.
"He's a bit exuberant," Harry murmured apologetically before yawning. "But he's a good friend."
"You're full of surprises, cub." Fenrir chuckled. "Werewolves, Death Eaters, house-elves, you really have no standards, do you?"
"Not this again!" Harry scowled at him. "Dobby is great, and Death Eaters are merely Dark wizards who support Voldemort, and the werewolves I've met so far were neither better nor worse than ordinary wizards."
"And how many werewolves have you met so far?" Fenrir asked.
"Including yourself, two, but even if you turn out to be an utter bastard, I won't start mistrusting werewolves in general," Harry returned.
Fenrir howled with laughter. "I see you've got experience in that matter," he taunted. "You obviously are an expert on werewolves."
"Would you stop that?" Harry shook his head in annoyance. "It's not my fault you have a low self-esteem and like for people to think the worst of you."
Just then Dobby reappeared, and after a quick bow, snapped his fingers. A red and white chequered picnic blanket spread over the stone floor. With another snap of Dobby's fingers, plates, baskets and boxes with food appeared on the blanket until it was totally covered with things to eat and drink.
Fenrir's mouth watered, and he pounced on a juicy pork hock, tearing a large piece from the bone and barely chewing before he swallowed. With gravy dripping down his chin, he took another bite and simultaneously reached for a medium-rare steak, gobbling both down in seconds. He had almost completely forgotten about Harry and the house-elf while his inner wolf howled in pleasure.
"Thank you, Dobby," Harry said softly, carefully rising from the straw mat and going to the house-elf. "Did you have any problems?"
"No, not at all, Master Harry Potter, sir," Dobby sounded disappointed. "Hogwarts house-elves were very, very happy to cook for Master Harry Potter and help him in any way they can. Dobby can get Master Harry Potter out of here, Master Harry Potter, sir. If Master Harry Potter would only let him..."
"Thank you, Dobby," Harry interrupted him gently. "But the food is more than enough."
"Master Harry Potter should eat something as well," Dobby tugged on Harry's hand, conjuring a plate of finger sandwiches and thrusting it under Harry's nose. "Dobby knows how much Master Harry Potter likes cream cheese and tomato sandwiches. Dobby made these himself."
"Thank you, Dobby. If you made them, of course I must try them." Harry smiled. "Can you come back later to take the plates and such away?"
"Of course, Master Harry Potter, sir." Dobby bowed again. "Master Harry Potter must not hesitate to call Dobby when he wants something, anything."
"I will, Dobby, thank you." Harry smiled at him, shaking Dobby's hand, bringing tears to the house-elf's eyes before he popped away.
Fenrir was still eating, though he had slowed down, and now looked up at Harry. "Come here, cub, you need to eat something as well."
Harry hesitated briefly, but then sank down next to the werewolf. Fenrir drew him closer and tried to hand him a plate with steak and noodles, but Harry raised his hands, drawing back.
"What is it now?" Fenrir asked.
"I'm a vegetarian," Harry answered, and Fenrir sent him a confused look. "I don't eat meat."
"Why the hell not? You got a death wish or something?" Fenrir demanded.
"I don't want any creature to die just so I can eat it," Harry returned. "You don't have to understand."
"I don't," Fenrir agreed, but withdrew the plate and started to eat it himself. "Eat something else then."
Harry sighed, but started slowly nibbling the sandwiches Dobby had made for him. By the time Fenrir had consumed all the meat and more than half of the rest of the food, Harry had finished about a quarter of the sandwiches and was sure he could not eat one bite more. They sat in silence for a while, Fenrir absently licking his fingers clean while staring pensively at Harry.
"What?" the black-haired man asked, unnerved. "Don't look at me as if you want to eat me next."
"What a good idea!" Fenrir grinned, causing Harry to roll his eyes. "But first I want you to explain something. In the showers, you said you had an appetite for meat when that guard asked why you didn't accept Duren's food. What did you mean?"
"Duren didn't offer me food. I bit him," Harry returned, then sighed when Fenrir raised an eyebrow in question. "He thought he could take advantage of me, and wanted me to suck him off, so I bit down instead."
Fenrir couldn't help but grin, barking out with laughter at Harry's matter-of-fact-tone, as if this was the only reasonable reaction to such audacity. "Good cub."
"He didn't take it too well," Harry stated neutrally. "But I'm pretty sure he won't try something like that again."
"Did he hurt you?" Fenrir growled, mentally picturing what he would like to do to the little shit if Duren had harmed his cub.
"It doesn't matter." There was firmness in Harry's voice, but something else as well, something deeper and darker: a bitter understanding stemming from deep-rooted desperation.
"To me it does, cub." Fenrir sighed, gathering the green-eyed wizard closer. "I think you've been hurt so often and so deeply you don't even see the injustice anymore, and you believe them when they say it's your fault."
"You should have been a philosopher, not a Death Eater," Harry said with a chuckle. "You're wasting your talents -- and on me, no less."
"What, did you think I was a brainless brute? Humans are easy to read, even if it's sometimes hard to understand them," Fenrir stated contemptuously.
"Aren't you human?"
"Frankly, I don't see the appeal," Fenrir grunted, and Harry inclined his head in silent agreement. "Though I do find a certain little human very appealing."
"Fenrir..." Harry groaned in exasperation. "First, that was very lame, and second, we had this conversation already. Third, I'm glad you're finally over me being a wizard."
The werewolf snorted. "I still don't like them, but you're okay."
"Why, thank you. How very flattering," Harry teased good-naturedly before he got up and packed fruits, bread, cheese and pieces of cake into a basket which had been filled with freshly baked rolls.
Fenrir watched intently, then grasped Harry's wrist when he reached for the apples. "What are you doing, cub?"
"Travers will also be hungry," Harry stated, tugging on his arm to free it. "And don't call me cub; I've said not to often enough."
"I don't see why you're so averse to it," Fenrir grumbled. "You are my cub. It means that I care, and that you're part of my pack."
"I'm not your cub. I'm Remus' cub," Harry retorted. "You can't possibly hope to replace him."
As Fenrir shot up from the floor to tower over Harry, his ferocious growl resounded in the small cell. "Remus Lupin! That loser is your Alpha?! You can pine for Lupin all you want, cub, but he isn't here - I am. Chances are you'll never see him again, but when I'm through with you, you will crave my touch and my kisses, not his."
"What are you talking about?" Harry demanded. "Remus isn't my lover. He never was nor will he be. He's my honorary godfather, my uncle, and I love him, but... not like that."
"Is that so?" Fenrir smirked in a predatory way, drawing Harry to his chest, petting the sable hair as his wolf retreated and he calmed. "Interesting. So, you think 'cub' is merely the term for a werewolf child? Very well, we'll leave it at that. I won't call you 'cub' anymore."
"Good. Only Remus calls me 'cub,' and he doesn't have any non-fatherly feelings for me," Harry continued, his voice muffled with his face pressed against Fenrir's chest.
"He better not, the puny weakling," Fenrir snarled. "He's not fit to be an Alpha, which he knows damn well. You're mine now, my little wolf, and I can assure you I don't see you as my child."
Harry stiffened, trying to pull away, but Fenrir rested his large hand on Harry's neck, massaging his wiry muscles, yet holding him securely in place. Despite the attempt at a lighter touch, Harry winced when he tried to draw away. "You're hurting me, and you promised not to," he whispered, and was relieved when Fenrir's movements gentled considerably. "You said you didn't want to see me broken."
"I'll protect you," Fenrir growled.
"Even from yourself?" Harry asked softly. He managed, with a push of magic, to free himself from Fenrir's hold and took a step away from the werewolf. "I think you should make up your mind about this first."
With that, Harry reached for the food basket and shrunk it so it would fit through the bars. Then he transformed into his wolf form, and before Fenrir could stop him, he had slipped back out of his cell and into the one opposite.
"Harry, dammit, come back!" Fenrir hissed.
But Harry ignored him, soon disappearing in the shadows, leaving Fenrir to stare at the battlefield of food and to curse under his breath.
I don't think I ever typed so many "Master Harry Potter"s in one single chapter before. I think I deserve some recognition for that alone.#grin# So review!