"Hey there, handsome; I'd remember a face like yours. You new around here?"

Tom paused halfway down the black at the woman's call and turned back, gaze roving over the form of the street walker who was wobbling after him on her eight inch heels. Her less than shapely body had been crammed into a too short red dress which was as tight a second skin. She was a mousy little thing, fairly bland and unattractive, with water slightly jaundiced eyes and frizzy gnarled hair.

Were he a true john, or a lesser predator, he might wonder what sort of thing the slab of meat was on. And what sort of things she had. Regardless of the fact that they wouldn't affect him, the woman was far from what he'd consider ideal prey.

Still, it had been long enough that she'd be passable.

The street walker pulled up short in surprise when she caught sight of his unnatural eyes, but was encouraged closer in short order by the warm smile Tom pulled onto his face. Mindful to show all the signs of an interest costumer.

"No," he told her, stepping closer. Looming almost flush against her smaller slighter form. The wolf within him frothing in anticipation for the coming kill. "I only just moved here recently; was pointed to the area by an…acquaintance." That was close enough to what James Potter was to him. At least in his eyes. An insect to be tolerated up until the point where he could be permanently removed. A flea in his fur abided by only for the emotional wellbeing of his mate. "You are what I'm looking for, I trust? A woman who's out her offering her…services for a modest price?"

I wouldn't call it 'modest', big guy," her claw like nail-painted with a chipped coat of cherry red lacquer-drawing lightly down the front of his chest. Tracing the planes of his muscles hidden beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. "But maybe you and I can make a deal."

"No need." He assured her, allowing the woman to draw him off the street and into a narrow, dead end alleyway. The prey escorting its predator to the perfect location for the kill. "I'm both capable and willing to pay whatever price you'd like luscious. Name it and it's yours, provided that I depart our meeting…satisfied."

"Don't worry, doll. I do everything." Tom caught her by the hips, spun her around on the spot and pressed her back roughly against the uneven brick wall. Her shoulder blades collided with a dull thud. "Hey! Gentle!"

"You said that you do everything." Tom growled through sharpening teeth, the familiar ache of the change settling into his jaw. "Maybe I like it rough."

"And I do rough. But that doesn't mean I don't appreciate a bit of a warning first darling." She groused, the darkness obscuring her vision enough that the subtle first changes of the shift from man to beast went unnoticed. "What can I call you anyway?"

"What can you call me?" Tom reached up with one clawed hand and peeled off his too-tight human face. "Big bad wolf will suffice for the moment." He forced a smile onto his fang filled jaw as it jutted forward into a new formed muzzle, reveling in the sound of the woman's terrified scream.

Her running footsteps filled his ears as they sharpened to points and migrated up to the top of his head. His back bowed and broke along with his legs as his joints realigned themselves and his muscles bowed, skin splitting over thick dark fur as a tail unfurled from the base of his spine.

His nostrils flared. His new, enhanced senses taking in the stench of fear and city.

"Going somewhere, little red riding hood?" He covered the length of the alley in two bounds, sinking his teeth deep into the woman's shoulder, snarling at the taste of fresh blood in his mouth, and dragged her back into the darkness.


When Harry arrived at Hill House the next morning he discovered that Tom had left the door open for him, and was greeted by the sight of Nagini sitting on the porch. Seemingly awaiting his arrival.

The great black dog let out a friendly bark when she caught sight of him, bounding off the wooden porch towards him with her large pink tongue lolling out of her mouth. As terrifying as the little beast had been when he'd first seen her, at the sight of Tom's pet happily panting and wagging her tail Harry couldn't help but smile.

"Hey Nagini." He said, stroking her thick coat of soft fur as she pressed against him like an attention seeking Rottweiler. "Where's your master?"

The black dog barked at him and took off back towards the house. Nudging the front door open wide enough for her to slip through and vanishing inside. Harry sped his pace and walked in after her, shutting the door in his wake with a quiet click.

Nagini yipped at him again and trotted up the wooden stairs, the soft tapping of her claws on the floor drowned out by the booming final chorus of Creedence Clearwater Revival's Bad Moon Rising blaring on the radio upstairs.

"Tom?" he called as he started up towards the second floor, trusting the thumps and creaks of his progress skyward would be enough to alert the other man to his arrival but wanting to make sure.

"In here, Harry." Tom's velvet voice carried to him through the sudden cut off of the radio. "The Dittany worked well for you?"

"Brilliantly." He rounded the corner of the room from which Tom's voice had issued. "Even with the God awful taste you could sell it and make yourself a millionaire a few times over. What do you put in that, anyway?"

"Lavender, Horehound, Echinacea and a few other things." He dismounted the rusty stepladder he'd been standing on and pulled the paint brush he'd been using to paint the repaired wall with white wash and set it down atop to open can. He was dressed in a too big t-shirt, faded ratty and filled with holes, and a skidded pair of paint splattered jeans. His brown hair was sticking up in all directions, darkened by sweat, and there was a swipe of white along the curve of his jaw. Harry couldn't help but think that the look was absurdly sexy.

"Once upon a time I did consider selling it but the amount of time it takes to make even a personal supply causes that to be a rather impractical option." He picked up a torn piece of cloth and wiped the sweat from his brow. "More for us, though."

"True." Already Harry had begun to feel the effects of the house's poor ventilation and now understood why Nagini had gone back outside. "Have another paint brush? Dad told me what you said about the renovations and I figured you might want some help."

"I'd love some help." Tom handed him a roller, picked up the can of paint and poured a portion of it into a tray. "I'll keep the step ladder and do the edgework and the higher portions closer to the ceiling. Can you take the rest?"

"Sounds good to me." He said, dragging the roller through the paint and setting in to his task. He didn't notice how Tom's eyes lingered on his form as he climbed slowly back up the wobbly step ladder. He wanted nothing more than to grab the little raven and hold him close to scent him until his status as his was undeniable. To drive his teeth into his neck and mark him, despite the inability of his curse to transfer without the power of the full moon to fuel it and their current lack of any real substantial bond. His wolf, close to the surface after the prior night's shift and unsatisfactory hunt, urged him to do it. To drag the boy into his room and claim him; force his body to yield, to bend to him. The alpha of alphas. The first of them.

Tom gritted his teeth and went back to painting.

"It wasn't too bad, I hope?"

Tom jerked slightly, startled out of his reverie by Harry's voice. "It?"

What were they talking about? "I'm sorry?"

"My father. More accurately, your drive with my father. Alone. It wasn't too bad, was it?"

"No, Harry. It wasn't bad at all." He said. "He didn't say anything embarrassing if that's what you're worried about."

"I find that hard to believe."

"No more Paganism jokes either."

"He really didn't do anything? Not even a cop moment?"

"Well, he did threaten me about the penalty for being a john." Tom grinned when Harry let out the single most put upon groan that he'd ever heard. "We talked about you, too. He seems like he's a good father; certainly better than mine was. Says that you feel isolated out here, having been the only one before me."

His face turned a beautiful red color and he started pushing the roller up and down the wall at a much faster pace. "I don't know what he's talking about!"

"It's normal, Harry. There's no need to be shy."

The little raven was having absolutely none of it and Tom found his reactions incredibly amusing. "What are you planning on using this room for?"

"My sword collection." He couldn't stop himself from barking a laugh when Harry rounded on him in surprise.

"You have a sword collection?" He demanded. "Why?"

Tom shrugged, edging the brush along the ceiling with a look of concentration. "Everyone has a hobby, dove."

"D-dove?"

"Is pop-kin preferable?"

"Dove is fine!" Harry glared at him when he caught his smirk.

"I've been collecting swords for a long time. Because I find them to be beautiful. And because I, unlike most in this age of guns and bullets, know how to use them." He said. "I can teach you. If you'd like."

He noticed Harry perk up through the corner of one eye.

"You'd teach me? Really?"

"Yeah, I'd be glad to." Typical people in this day and age no longer used swords but many Wolf Hunters did and his beautiful raven would need to learn to defend himself as soon as possible. He'd seen too many young wolves fall over the years. Too many of his children murdered for doing what was natural. And any activity which would keep them in further contact was something he was willing to do. "We'll finish this room, head outside to eat some lunch and then we'll do a bit of basic fencing out in the yard because God knows it's too damn hot in here to do anything strenuous inside."

Harry was too hot at this point to do much more than nod. Tom sent him another smirk before going back to his work.

It was almost three hours later that they finally finished painting the room. Tom complimented him hardily on his work before they left the walls to dry and headed down the stairs to the slightly cooler lower floor. Tom didn't miss a beat in pulling the ragged t-shirt over his head and tossing it carelessly into one of the few boxes of belongings which he'd managed to empty up to this point.

Harry felt the blood drain from his face at the sight of the scars that riddled his skin. Lash marks. Slashes. Burns. The sort of injuries which he'd have expected to see on a prisoner of war after they'd been tortured for information.

"Oh my God, Tom. What happened to you?"

Harry seemed slightly unsettled by the look the brunet gave him. He knew that he had to tell him something but he wasn't ready for his legionnaire to know the truth. "My father."

It wasn't true, but it severed the desired purpose of tempting Harry into dropping the matter. Tom reached out and took his shoulder, squeezing it gently.

"I was a long time ago. You've done no harm by bringing it up, but I'd rather you didn't speak of it again."

The little raven nodded, looking repentant, and mumbled an apology. Tom made them both sandwiches, thrown haphazardly together with the contents of his fridge, and brought them out back with him along with a pair of water bottles and the two went to sit in the open hatchback of his truck.

Tom watched with satisfaction as Harry tucked into his sandwiches eating the food which the brunet had provided him. His wolf growled in satisfaction and the brunet hid a small grin behind his own meal. Given time, they'd be hunting together. Killing together. They'd make a proper pack and claim the surrounding area as their hunting grounds.

A few more months, at most. For now, he'd just have to be patient.