"Hey," Someone said quietly to him after what seemed like hours. Even though Bel hadn't known he was there, he didn't flinch. He felt numb, and stunned. He wondered if he was going into shock. He had been kidnapped by the man who had haunted his nightmares his entire childhood. The man who had ruined his life.

Bel turned his eyes from the frozen earth to stare at the man who was hovering over him. He was much older than Bel, with long salt-and pepper hair, dark skin, and a gentle smile across his stubbly face. The gray in his hair was the only indication of his age; werewolves had a tendency to be outwardly young for a very long time. He had light blue eyes that were stark against his dark face and highlighted by the white of the snow.

The snow crunched as the man sat down heavily beside him, not close enough to touch, but close enough that he could feel the body heat radiating off of the other man.

"The cubs love winter, even if us adults don't. They love playing in the snow," the older gentleman observed in a warm voice. Beltrano had observed as much himself, but the fondness in the older werewolf's voice held a melancholy that made his statement much deeper.

The almost gray eyes turned on him, and he looked at his feet.

"You're almost a cub yourself. What is your name?"

Bel hesitated, jerkily shoving his hands into his pockets.

"I'm Beltrano Gallo. I'm sixteen."

The man nodded, his gaze warm but analytical.

"I am called Fang, it is nice of you to join us."

"A werewolf called Fang?" Bel's lips twisted in mirth.

Fang laughed, a gravelly, appealing sound.

"Yes, it is. But if you'll look closely," he paused to grit his teeth, revealing straight pearly whites, with a jutting left canine, "it is a bit accurate."

Bel thought the fang made the older man all the more appealing. He gave the other man a weary smile, despite his numbness.

"Why are you here, if you don't mind me asking? All the Alpha will do is rant about wizards and their evils."

Bel hung his head a bit, pulling at the ends of his hair.

"I became a werewolf by him when I was eight years old…he is tying up loose ends I expect."

Fang put a kind hand on his shoulder, laughing kindly.

"Oh, of course he isn't! Our alpha isn't a bad man. He cares about all of the wolves he sires. He considers you a part of his pack." Fang winked, glancing at the tent that Fenrir had disappeared into.

"He's not exactly the best at conveying his emotions."

Bel felt anger well up inside of him.

"Yes, I know how he conveys his emotions. He murders and turns children before they have the knowledge of what is happening." Bel's voice was not heated, but cold and succinct.

Fang's gaze became sad, but his eyes lost none of their warmth. Bel was angered even more to see pity cross his face.

"Some children cannot handle the change. Alpha doesn't intentionally harm anyone. He just wants to give others our gift."

Bel gave a cold laugh.

"Another man had the same idea. He wanted to give the world his 'gift' of education and purify it. Even if it meant slaughtering six million people and sending the world into war."

Fang's eyes sparkled with recognition, and he looked oddly proud.

"I believed the same thing, once. Just get to know Fenrir, and you will understand."

Bel held in a snort, his nose wrinkling slightly.

"Come now, I think he might have cooled down enough for you to talk to him."

Fang placed his large warm hands on Bel's arms, gently tugging him to his feet.

"And if not, you obviously know how to handle yourself."

Bel was irritated, but he felt warm from the compliment. So warm, in fact, he felt his face burning.

They approached the tent, which was about ten feet high and made out of several fur pelts stitched together. When they entered, Bel sighed in relief. The tent was about fifteen degrees warmer than the outside. They had also dug out a hole in the ground, so the warmth from the earth filled the enclosure. Fenrir was leaning against one of the tent poles, a female with hair down to her waist touching his arm and whispering in his ear. When he saw Bel approaching, his frown deepened.

"I want to go back to school," he said immediately. Fang, who still had his arm in his grasp, tightened his hold a bit and sighed.

Fenrir barked out a laugh, shaking off the female who was glaring profusely.

"I can't do that. I'm not going to allow you to be near those wizards that are poisoning your mind."

"Why do you even care," said Bel with forced calm, "you don't even know me. It's your fault I can't be a normal wizard anyway."

Fenrir laughed coldly. "It's not my fault, pup, that is entirely your father's fault. He used me to make you more powerful so he could use you to gain favor with the Dark Lord."

"That is a lie." Bel's voice fell into a hiss.

"Denying it won't make it true, sweetheart."

The bitch at his side cackled, and Bel was horrified to feel his eyes burn. He narrowed them in anger.

Fenrir's smile widened.

"I too followed the Dark Lord at that time. Your father remains faithful. He wanted you to be a werewolf so he could form ties with us, and you being strong put him in the Dark Lord's favor when he returned."

Bel clenched his teeth, his body shaking with anger. He wanted to deny it, something but he had nothing to say. Fang's hand—that had just left his arm—held onto him again. It was very little comfort.

"If you are trying to get me to stay, you are doing a very shitty job."

"I don't have to try to get you to stay. You have to stay. There are wards all around this site, and you have no idea where you are. You could splinch yourself if you try to Apparate."

The Alpha's smirk was triumphant. The bitch at his side cackled again, her fingers twirling one of his thick silver dread locks. One of the bells rattled ominously through the tent.

Bel knew then that his father knew exactly what was going on. He had probably contacted Lucius, who had then told Draco to invite Bel to Hogsmeade. It all made sense. His father was making a political move by letting slip that he was a werewolf to his teachers. His father had sent him here.

What had his mother done? Did she care? He wondered if she even knew.

Bel was devastated, but he kept his face a calm mask. All occupants of the tent were silent, watching him. The bitch was still smirking at him, her fingers lazily pulling at Fenrir's silver locs.

Fenrir looked very pleased with himself as he exited the tent, brushing past Bel as he did so. Fang pat him on the shoulder, smiling sadly as he also left.

Only he and the female wolf remained. She smirked at him, stepping forward.

"Fenrir may be eager to take you into the pack, but know this," her hand shot out, taking a tight grip in his hair, "you will never be welcome here, pretty boy. No one wants you. Not even your pathetic wizards want you. Just bare your neck and leave us alone, and maybe you'll survive the full moon."

The look on her face made the once pretty features horribly ugly, and she turned and left without another glance.

For the first time in years, Beltrano raised his arm to cover his eyes, and he let himself cry. The tears ran hot down his cool cheeks, some spilling over his lips. Soon his shirtsleeve was damp, and his shoulders were shaking. He didn't know how long he stood there, in silent agony, but he cut off his sorrow when he heard footsteps approaching the tent.

It was Fang. He had a smile on his gentle face, and the scent of smoked meat filled the tent.

"We've just started dinner, if you want some," his voice was very soft, as if Bel would break if he spoke too loudly. That same pity from earlier crossed his face, and Bel turned away in shame. He hated the acknowledgement of his weakness in that voice, gravelly and tinged with a Scottish accent.

"I'm not really—"

"Nonsense!" Cried Fang boisterously. He tugged Bel out by his robes with a wink that made Bel's cheeks flare with heat.

The entire pack—probably about fifty werewolves—sat around a large bonfire in the middle of the circle of tents. Little children laughed, chasing each other around in the orange firelight. The moon was a small crescent in the clear sky, and they all felt its warm presence.

Fang kept their arms locked, even as members of the pack stared at them and began to whisper. Fenrir sent him a cold smirk from his position at the head of the fire. He held a paper plate full of what smelled like smoked rabbit. Fang rushed over, made a plate, and thrust it into Bel's hands.

More and more of the pack stared at Bel as Fang forced him to sit down in their circle. They blatantly scooted away from him. The ginger man that had been there when they had kidnapped him growled under his breath, viciously taking a bite out of a turkey leg.

It wasn't much different from Hogwarts, really.

Bel stared down at his plate, and then he began poking the bird meat he had been given. It was cooked evenly through, and it smelled delicious. His twisted insides made him want to throw up with every inhale.

"So, what is your mother like?" Asked Fang when the noise of the group had started up again.

Bel narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously.

"Why are you being so nice and attentive? What do you want from me?"

Fang smiled that gentle smile of his, even warmer under the orange glow of the bonfire.

"I simply understand what you are going through. Also, you intrigue me. Most of us have been living here for quite some time."

Bel leaned back in the dead grass, his arms out behind him.

"So, you have lived here all your life?"

Fang chuckled. "You have to answer my question first."

Sigh. "Very well. My mother is beautiful, she is Italian and has light green eyes, and she is the one who raised me."

Fang nodded. He was the type of person who listened attentively to anything you had to say. He slipped easily into conversation and made one feel important in his eyes.

"Now you," Bel said before Fang could ask another question.

Fang smiled again, and Bel's cheeks warmed.

"I wasn't born here, I came when I was about twenty. I wasn't a wizard when I was turned. Fenrir's pack had just started when I joined. They taught me many things about my lycanthropy that I'm sure will be taught to you."

His gray eyes drifted over the pack.

"I just wish they could be as accepting as they used to. Many of the elders are out on a hunt, so you will meet them later. I did not go because of a sprained ankle, but I am all healed now."

He turned his gaze back to Bel.

"I am glad I stayed."

His voice was filled with meaning and kindness, and it made Bel's hear flutter in his chest.

"Hi Fang. Hey, are you the wizard?"

The voice was tiny, and Bel broke their eye contact to look at the little girl who had spoken. She was of Asian descent, with long black hair and a thick brown coat. She looked like a little doll.

"Yes. My name is Bel."

It was better to give children the shorter version of his name.

Her eyes widened, and a smile curved her face.

"Can you do magic? My mama says that we shouldn't be around wizards, but I like magic."

Bel smiled at her, and sneakily showed her his wand from inside the pocket of his robes.

"Wow. Magic comes out of there?"

"Yes. I learned it at Hogwarts."

"Can you turn people into toads?"

"I'm sure my Transfiguration teacher could. She could turn anything."

"Wow!" The little girl said again.

She held out her hand formally.

"I'm Lillian!"

He fought back a grin, and he shook her tiny mitten.

"Lillian!" A woman's angry voice came from the other side of the fire.

"Gotta go! Bye!" She kissed him on the cheek and scurried off.

Fang laughed, scooting closer to pat him on the back.

"Our pack is very affectionate with each other. It seems I'm not the only one who is willing to accept you."

The little girl's kiss and the warm hand on his robed back made him feel nice, even if the talk of Hogwarts had put an unbearable ache in his chest.

Snape would probably take Malfoy as his Apprentice after all.


Fang shared a tent with several other male pack members, and he invited Bel to stay with him. Apparently it was customary for the new members to sleep in the Alpha's tent, but Fenrir had ignored all others and went to bed without an offer.

Feeling horribly unwanted despite his dislike of the Alpha, he had accepted the offer to sleep in Fang's tent.

There were five men, all snoring, in the rather small space. They slept huddled together, limbs thrown casually like the sleeping wolves that they were. Fang was respected by all members of the pack, and despite their grumbling, they had let him sleep without a fuss.

Bel was still awake, his eyes wide and alert.

He couldn't sleep like this.

He wasn't wanted in this tent.

He wasn't wanted in this pack.

Where was he wanted? Why hadn't Dumbledore intervened? Why hadn't McGonagall intervened? Why hadn't anyone cared about him?

Aching inside, Bel stood quietly and left the tent. The moon was bright, despite its smallness in the sky, and his senses were heightened by his condition. He trudged out into the clearing, his breathing shaky but quiet.

In times of stress, he usually smoked muggle herb and read until he fell asleep. He hadn't needed to in years, even with the stress of Umbridge's presence looming over him.

"What do you think you are doing?"

A voice snarled from behind him. He jumped. It was rare that someone could startle him with his keen sense of hearing. It was the ginger werewolf from before, and he was red with anger.

A.N.:

Yeah. Review more please. :(

Anyway...I don't know what to say about this one. I gave Fenrir dreads, because I think dreads are the sexiest hairstyle in the entire universe. unff