A/N: Thank you for taking the time to reading my humble story, also thanks to all my lovely reviewers. I appreciate it all.
Enjoy.
Warning: Underage drinking.
Chapter Four: Claimed
After breakfast, Harry excused himself to go take a bath. He was thrilled to find that the hot water worked perfectly; and to his surprise, he even found several small bottles of shampoo and conditioner. Harry washed his hair, careful to avoid his head wound that was nothing more that a sore spot now. He lathered up his hair and the bubbles were only a tinge of red.
He relaxed in the water until it ran cold and he was forced to get out. Even then, he was hesitant. Staying in the cold water was more appealing that facing the man he who was going to claim him. Harry paused for a second and sat on the edge of the tub, a towel around his waste haphazardly, he tried to figure out what being claimed would feel like.
Would it make him act any different? Would it leave a scar? There were so many things left unanswered. He was terrified for tonight. What if being claimed wasn't enough? What if Fenrir turned him by accident?
Harry cleaned off his glasses and made sure his glamour charm was still up, even though now it was habitual. His magic just covered up the scar by its self. Harry didn't even need to speak the words.
Harry slid the old pair of jeans on and along with a white sleeveless shirt. He then exited the bathroom and found Fenrir sitting quietly in the living room.
Fenrir's looked up and they made eye contact. Harry gulped the intensity in the golden eyes made his face flush and his heart speed up, which in turn got Fenrir's attention. His eyed dilated as he watched his fidgeting mate. He could hear the intake of breath, and the rapid heart beat.
"When are you going to claim me?" Harry asked shifting his feet in anticipation.
That was when Fenrir's resolve snapped. Hearing his mate ask that was too much for him, it made his blood boil. Fenrir stood and cornered Harry against the wall. His hands went to his mate's waist to keep him in place. Fenrir towered over the younger male.
Harry remained still. His eyes immediately shut and his teeth clinched. He waited for a bite that never came, instead Fenrir nibbled on his neck.
Harry gasped, his hands shot up to Fenrir's head to push him away but instead ended up tangled in his long hair.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked his breath hitching as Fenrir's rough tongue soothed the red spot on his neck.
"Take your clothes off." Fenrir drew back from Harry, but his hands remained firmly on the boys hips.
Harry spluttered, "Wait what?"
Fenrir didn't answer, instead he just tugged the boys shirt off. Once the shirt was removed Fenrir ran his nose across the boys chest. He needed to find the perfect spot to bite him. Since it would leave a scar, and that brought up the question did he want to make it visible to other people? Or be in a sacred place that only he would have the privilege of seeing.
He chose the latter. "Listen to me closely." He waited until he saw the ebony haired male nod and they made eye contact. "I'm going to claim you. It will hurt, nothing too horrible, but it will involve pain." This made Harry shudder, Fenrir noticed it but continued. "I'm going to bite you on the inside of your right thigh."
Harry nodded. He was thankful that Fenrir chose some place he could cover up with clothing. His stomach did flip-flops and Fenrir led him over the couch. He pushed him down making him sit. "It will be easier if you're comfortable. Is there anything I can get you before we continue?" Fenrir asked.
"I have to use the bathroom, but um… could you get me a glass of water?"
Fenrir agreed and went into the kitchen while Harry fled into the bathroom. He shut the door and leaned against it. Breathing deeply Harry tried to calm his rapidly beating heart. The notion that wolfs mated for life, that he would be stuck with a man he barely new for his entire life was sickening.
Harry clenched his mouth shut. He could feel the warm bile rising up his throat and he was unable to suppress it. He buried his face in the porcelain bowl and emptied his stomach.
The door creaked open and Harry felt fingers run through his hair. He opened his mouth to say something but just ended up retching again. Fenrir gently helped the boy to his feet after his stomach was emptied and handed him the glass of water.
Fenrir felt the boy's forehead; it wasn't warm but clammy instead.
Harry apologized and sipped at the water to clean the bile taste out of his mouth; grimacing he swished his mouth out and spat the dirty water in the sink.
"Are you sick?" Fenrir asked.
"Just nervous," Harry replied avoiding Fenrir's piercing eyes.
Fenrir felt instantly guilty. "I apologize. I shouldn't have been so forceful." He then pulled the boy into an awkward hug and refused to let go until Harry relaxed. He ignored his base instinct and focused on comforting his mate. He didn't have much experience but he had seen parents hug their crying children and that seemed to work.
Humans relief on physical contact.
Harry gently returned the hug. The heat emanating off Fenrir's body made Harry's head swim and he unwillingly relaxed. What he was feeling reminded him of the first time he had tried Fire Whisky with Ron and the twins.
With his head buried in Fenrir's chest Harry asked, "Can I look around in the kitchen?"
Fenrir though the request was strange but could not bring himself to deny his mate. "Of course," Fenrir said.
"Thank you." Harry removed himself from the older man. He shivered and Fenrir noticed this.
"I'll go get some firewood."
Fenrir left his mate to look for dry wood, which was difficult but he didn't want his mate to get sicker. Humans were sensitive creatures. Too cold and they would sneeze and wheeze, too hot and they would complain and sweat. Heat and coolness both caused lethargy and Fenrir wanted his mate active and happy.
While Fenrir was dutifully searching for suitable wood, Harry was rummaging about the kitchen looking for alcohol.
His knowledge of alcohol was limited to only a few accounts. However, he did know that people did strange things will intoxicated and it was called liquid courage for a reason. He needed both. His limbs were shaking and his mind reeling.
In one of the cupboards, he found a half-empty bottle of tequila and dirty shot glasses. He washed out the glass and poured himself a shot. With a deep breath, Harry downed the shot and gagged.
It was better than Fire Whisky but it still burned and tasted horrible, but most alcohol did.
Harry took another shot and the dizziness descended down on him. He poured another shot and took it to him with the bathroom. He downed it and brushed his teeth to get rid of the taste.
Then he staggered into the bedroom and flopped down on the bed. He removed his glasses and his eyes closed automatically.
A gentle caressing of his cheek awaked him and he rolled over taking the arm with him as a pillow. Harry snuggled into the hand and even though his eyes were closed, he felt the room spin.
Fenrir chuckled at his sleepy mate. The boy cuddled into his open palm and that made a small smile tug at his lips. "I know you're tired, but this will only take a second." Fenrir helped his mate into a sitting position. He propped him up with pillows and brushed the unruly black hair away from the sweaty forehead.
Fenrir saw this as an opportunity. The boy was relaxed and biting him would be easier. The sexual part of mating could wait. He was a bit disappointed but the health of his mate came first and the distinct smell of toothpaste signified, to him, that his mate must have vomited once again. The flushed face and increased sweatiness also seemed to state that his mate was sick.
Fenrir made sure his mate was comfortable and rolled up the shorts until he saw the milky white flesh of Harry's thigh. He then tenderly kissed the spot.
Harry whimpered, even through the haze of alcohol he knew what was about to happen. His hands instinctively came to rest on Fenrir's shoulders as if to push him away, but he didn't because he lacked the physical strength and he was so tired.
He located the spot he wished to bite and with out any warning he sunk his unnaturally sharp teeth into the flawless skin. Blood welled up in his mouth and euphoria settled over him.
When he slowly came down from the high the first thing he noticed was that his mate was twisting and turning trying to get out of his grasp. His voice was hoarse and his face screwed up in agony as he cried and pleaded for Fenrir to stop.
Blood stained the bedding and Fenrir felt guiltily as he removed his teeth from the withering boy. Guilt was one of the newer emotions he had been feeling lately and it left a bad taste in his mouth.
It was a human emotion. Another thing about humans Fenrir could add to the list.
Fenrir shushed the boy and muttered an apology. He held the crying boy close whispering comforting things into his ear. Tears soaked his neck and he held his mate until the sobs receded and the boy stopped trembling.
Fenrir moved Harry to the other side of the bed and removed the blood soaked comforter. He went back into the living room to stroked the fire back to life, and to grabbed a spare blanket. Then he joined his mate in bed.
He went to go and turn off the lamb beside his sleeping mate when something peculiar caught his attention. There on his mates forehead, hidden behind a few stray black curls was a lighting bolt scar.
Fenrir traced the scar and watched as his mate's face scrunched up in pain. He stopped and the boys face relaxed back into a deep slumber.
"Harry," Fenrir shook his head in shock. "Harry Potter."
/F/H/F/H
Meanwhile at the Burrow, Ron and Hermione were debating whether to tell Mr. and Mrs. Weasley that they hadn't received any letters from Harry in weeks.
It wasn't unusual for Harry to not write for weeks upon weeks during the summer months but with the increased Death Eater attacks they were both worried.
"We should tell them Ron. What if something is wrong?" Hermione said. "Harry could be injured or-"
Ron cut her off, "Oh come on Hermione. Everything is fine. You know how Harry's uncle his, Harry just hasn't written because his uncle probably won't let him. He's fine."
His words were meant to have a calming effect on his girlfriend, but they had the opposite effect. However, Hermione eventually muttered, "Alright Ron. I suppose you're right."
With a satisfied grin Ron asked, "So wanna go snog now?"
Hermione huffed but a blush dusted her cheeks. "Honestly Ronald."