Disclaimer: See first chapter!

Author's Note: The way you were throwing accusations left and right no one was safe :-) And still, none of you got it right... So hold on to your seats and brace yourself...

Warnings for this chapter: Lemons! (Beginning and end marked!) Some dirty talk before and after... Come to think of it, this chapter is really not safe so read at your own risk...


7. FAMILY

"It's strange to meet someone who really cares," David muttered, wiping the blood from his hands. "I don't really know what to do with you, Harry."

"The feeling is quite mutual," Harry answered softly. "I want to help you, but I really don't know how."

"You're already helping." David shrugged, grimacing at the black-haired young man. "You care... And you make for a good pet."

"Ha ha." Harry rolled his eyes. "You make for a nice pillow... Want to go for a walk? I'm suffocating in here."

David looked doubtful for a moment, but then nodded in agreement, reaching for a heavy winter cloak. "Do you need one as well?"

"Yeah, that would be great, thanks," Harry replied.

Their fingers brushed lightly when David handed him a second, more worn cloak, and Harry looked up at him nervously, expecting an adverse reaction. But David just drew back, putting his hand into his robe pocket. Harry smiled brilliantly at him, and David arched an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Nothing." Harry was still smiling. "But I'm not the only one who cares. Let's go."

Harry shrugged into the cloak and they walked next to each other in companionable silence, each lost in his own thoughts. They were about the same height, both slender and not particularly tall, but Harry's legs were a bit longer and David's limp forced Harry to shorten his steps to match his. From time to time, David would look over his shoulder with a wary glance or flinch at a slight noise or a breath of wind, and Harry had to resist the urge to reach out to lend him some comfort. He was about to ask the other man if he wanted to go back to his room, when a soft pop behind them heralded the arrival of a house-elf. The Death Eater jumped, swivelling around with his wand drawn. His eyes were wide with fear.

"David, it's okay," Harry murmured, stepping between him and the house-elf. "What do you want, Sleazy?"

"Master Lord Voldemort sent Sleazy to collect Master Potter, Sir," the house-elf said respectfully with a deep bow.

"Tell him that I don't have the time for his stupid games." Harry scowled darkly. "I don't have the list yet."

"Sleazy is sorry, Master Potter, but Master Lord Voldemort said that Master Potter would want to come. Master Lord Voldemort has information." Sleazy opened his eyes ridiculously wide at the last word, and a shiver of apprehension went through Harry's body.

"I'll be there in a minute." Harry sighed, waiting until Sleazy had disappeared again before turning to David. "Do you want to come with me?"

"I might as well." He pocketed his wand again. "I should start taking my job as your bodyguard seriously now that I have nothing better to do."

"Thanks," Harry murmured. "Mind showing me the way?"

The grey-haired man wordlessly pointed down a corridor to their left and much too soon the double doors of the Throne Room loomed in front of them. Before Harry had the time to collect himself, or change his mind, David had opened the door, stepping aside to let him enter first. He carefully peered into the room, clutching Remus' wand in his pocket and rapidly blinking his eyes to adjust them to the changed lightning conditions. His breath hitched.

"Siri?" He ran towards the man with the long, dirty black hair, who lay facing the door, his face gaunt and much too thin.

Storm-grey eyes snapped open to meet his, and the man made an effort to sit up though the fact that his hands were bound behind his back hindered him from achieving his aim before Harry had reached him, hugging him for all he was worth.

"Harry," he croaked. "Harry."

"I thought you were dead." Harry sobbed. "I thought I had lost you. Tell me I'm not dreaming."

"It's me, Harry," Sirius whispered. "I'm alive..."

"How touching." A mocking voice made Harry swivel around and stare accusingly at Voldemort.

"Why have you bound him? You gave me a vow on your magic..."

"I thought, foolishly perhaps, you would make an exception for the murderer of your relatives," Voldemort answered with cold amusement as he saw the two men give almost identical winces.

Harry's lips moved silently as he looked at Sirius, who lowered his eyes in admittance of his guilt.

"Quite surprising, isn't it?" Voldemort was enjoying himself royally, his red eyes glimmering in malicious glee and an almost lively flush to his pale cheeks. "It's always the ones you least suspect, isn't that right, Harry Potter? Maybe Lucius should tell you exactly how-"

"Shut up," Harry whispered, still staring at Sirius. "Siri? Please, tell me that you didn't..."

"I can't," Sirius whispered even more quietly. "I'm sorry, Harry, but I can't. Please forgive me. Forgive me. I never wanted you to go to Azkaban, I never-"

"Never what, Sirius," Harry demanded, a terrible cold spreading through his veins, reaching with icy fingers for his heart. "I thought you loved me. I thought you wanted me happy. I believed you when you said you weren't a murderer, I defended you, and for what? For what? So you could stab me in my sleep and kill the only family I had? You must be kidding me!"

"Harry, please, let me explain," Sirius pleaded. "I wanted to protect you."

"I heard that so often, so damn often, and each and every time it was less believable!" Harry spat, pushing himself to his feet and away from his godfather. "I can't talk to you now."

"Harry-"

"Throw him in the dungeons or somewhere." Harry turned to Voldemort. "Don't hurt him."

"As you wish." Voldemort smirked. "I'm always glad to be of assistance, Harry Potter."

Harry wordlessly left the hall, avoiding looking at his godfather or at Voldemort. Tears were clouding his eyes; anger and disbelief choked his throat. He stopped when the soft steps behind him registered in his brain.

"David, will you be fine for a while on your own?" He didn't turn around to face the Death Eater.

"I'm sure I will, little Patronus," David murmured softly, briefly touching Harry's shoulder. "I'll be waiting for your visit."

"Thank you."

ö_ö_ö

Fenrir felt like kicking himself. He should have thought about this earlier. It made sense for Harry to come here, in an illogical kind of way. Harry might have been angry, disappointed, embittered and a number of other emotions, but he would not have forsaken what he perceived as his duty. Remus was safe with the pack, so that only left Travers. And Travers was here, at Voldemort's headquarters.

A snarl and a flashing of his impressive canines made the guards skitter out of his way, and he hastened through the dark corridors. He could almost smell Harry now. He was sure his little wolf was here.

"Hurry," he barked over his shoulder at Sawyer, who was lagging a bit behind.

"Yes, Alpha." Sawyer obediently caught up with him, and they reached Harry's rooms at the same time.

Fenrir was able to pick up his scent him now, and his wolf howled in pleasure and satisfaction at having found his wayward pack member. He put his hand on the door handle but then hesitated. Should he knock? He might as well. The rapped his knuckles against the oak wood, the sound grating on his ears. It sounded too loud, too demanding, too intrusive.

"Go the fuck away!" he heard an angry shout from behind the door and he felt something in his chest clench that Harry didn't want to see him.

He knocked again.

"Get lost!" Harry shouted even louder.

Another knock.

The door was jerked open. "What the hell is wrong with you? Am I speaking Goblin? I said to leave me a-" Harry's eyes finally landed on Fenrir's surprised face, and he stopped himself abruptly. "Fen? Oh, Merlin, Fen."

Too thin arms wrapped around Fenrir's waist, and Fenrir reacted in kind, pulling Harry against his broad chest, his hands resting on the slim hips. Harry sighed and then he started sobbing, harsh, cruel sobs, and Fenrir had no idea what to do, so he just held Harry close enough to feel the small, shaking body and to smell the salty wetness of tears. The words he had prepared in his mind got stuck in his throat. He hadn't thought Harry would be this affected. It didn't seem real. They had fought before; Harry had told him more than once that what they had - whatever they had - was not serious, that Harry wasn't willing to make himself vulnerable. What was this?

"Harry..."

"No," Harry mumbled into his chest. "Don't talk."

"But-"

"No, just hold me." There was urgency and tears in his voice, and Fenrir couldn't but comply, enveloping Harry in a tender embrace.

It was a long time until Harry's tears subsided and he drew back, rubbing over his cheeks and smiling up at Fenrir as if he honestly expected Fenrir to just ignore his little breakdown. Fenrir scoffed mentally.

"Sorry about that. Come on in." Harry took a step back, unblocking the door, and when Fenrir entered the room, Harry caught sight of Sawyer, who had watched the display of affection and sadness uncomfortably. "Oh, Sawyer, I didn't see you there. Come in as well."

Harry smiled at the younger werewolf, though it was a bit strained, and he made sure to keep a safety distance between them.

"Do you want something to drink?" Harry offered, looking from one to the other. "I can call a house-elf and-"

"No, Harry," Fenrir interrupted him, pulling Harry into his arms again before sitting down. "Sawyer has something he wants to tell you and then the two of us will be having a long discussion about running away from your problems."

"Oh?" Harry cocked his head, glancing at the black-haired werewolf.

"Sawyer," Fenrir prompted impatiently, when the other werewolf, instead of speaking up immediately, began to pace.

"Potter, I apologise on behalf of myself and the rest of the pack for our less than friendly welcome." His voice was controlled, even and without much emotion; it was hard to tell if he was being sincere. "It was uncalled for to attack you, and I'm sorry if we hurt you with our actions."

Harry stared at him for a moment before turning to Fenrir. "This is your doing, isn't it? You told him to apologise."

"Yes," Fenrir didn't feel the need to deny it. "Now you say 'apology accepted'."

"Do you expect me to mean it?" Harry asked mockingly. "Like he meant his apology? Fen, this is not how it works. I appreciate the gesture, but this is not how it works."

Fenrir furrowed his brow, wondering if Harry expected an apology from him. "I should have noticed what was going on and protected you, I admit that. I didn't realise they had hurt you this much." He nudged Harry's smooth, tear-stained cheek with his nose. "But you shouldn't have run away, you should've stayed and talked with me. I promise it'll be better from now on."

Harry turned his head away from Fenrir's questing lips. "Has Remus come with you?"

"No," Fenrir murmured before sighing. "He's waiting for you to come home, little white one. Don't be angry."

Harry shook his head. "I'm not angry. I understand."

"I don't think you do," Fenrir replied, grabbing Harry's chin to make him look into his eyes. "I would never have allowed them to hurt you, not even one hair on your head."

"I know that." Harry shrugged. "But that doesn't change the fact that I don't belong there."

"Sawyer, leave us," Fenrir ordered without taking his eyes off of Harry, who just returned his gaze with an eerie calm.

He waited until the door had clicked shut behind the younger werewolf and he couldn't hear his fading footsteps anymore.

"Little moonlight, what are you saying? Of course, you belong there, with me... and with Remus," Fenrir murmured, kissing Harry's nose. "The others will just have to deal."

Harry laughed harshly. "Fen, they'll never accept me or even just tolerate me without your overbearing presence hovering protectively behind me. But I'm done with that, Fen, I'm done with being weak and dependent and I refuse to be made to feel inferior to anyone. They kicked me around like a rag doll, Fen, and laughed at my attempts to defend myself. I'm nothing to them. I'm just a wizard."

"I can change that," the silver-haired werewolf stated immediately, brushing a bit of hair away from Harry's neck. "You're strong enough now. You would be one of us, completely. They would welcome you and it would be easier for you to defend yourself. You'd be stronger-" Fenrir was obviously warming up to the idea, but Harry scowled and stood up, withdrawing from the werewolf's embrace.

"You're fooling yourself," he said in a whisper. "I'm past puberty, past any natural inclination of my body to grow. I'll never be as tall or as strong as you or any of the others. I would lose my magic, or at least have a difficult time learning to access it again. And the transformation would kill my Animagus."

Fenrir growled in anger, jumping up to tower over Harry. "What would you know about it, you little smart ass? If I say it would help-"

"You're wrong, Fen," Harry returned calmly, not lowering his eyes. "I won't allow you to turn me and frankly, I have other problems right now."

"Who says I'm going to ask your opinion," Fenrir growled dangerously, roughly pulling Harry against him and locking Harry's head between his own head and his chest; the perfect position to bite that sweet, delicate neck. "I make the decisions here."

"You egocentric prat," Harry murmured softly. "Where's the selfless, honour-bound and controlled Alpha I learned to care about, wolfie? You can bite me, but we both know that it will only add to the problems, don't we?" He pressed his lips to Fenrir's bare chest and before drawing back; Fenrir allowed it. "You won't bite me."

The certainty in Harry's voice threw Fenrir off balance. How could it be that this little wimp of a wizard was so confident in his own ability to get his way? To deny him, Fenrir Greyback?

"Why not, Harry? You can't know that you won't grow. Maya did though she was already pushing thirty when Tristan bit her. And even if you don't, you'd still be stronger. Remus could help you with your magic, and you'd smell like one of us, you'd... Why not, Harry?"

"Because I know what would happen and what wouldn't," Harry said. "I told you I became an Animagus for Remus, right? Well, that's true, but I also became an Animagus because of him." His hands tightened into fists, and he turned his back to the werewolf. "When I was sixteen and still expected to off Voldemort, Dumbledore and his cronies were trying to find ways to make me stronger, to 'prepare' me. Bonding with a powerful wizard, magical rituals, time travel, Ancient artifacts, turning me into a magical creature."

Fenrir hesitantly reached out, putting a heavy hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezing it. Harry winced, and he loosened his grip.

"They planned to use Remus," Harry whispered, anguish in his voice. "Remus was so damn afraid, I thought he would kill himself before he ever allowed the chance of hurting me. I was so worried about him and so I trained, day and night, for weeks until I could do it, until I had my Animagus form."

"What happened then?"

"They found out that the disadvantages would outweigh the advantages," Harry said bitterly. "They didn't even think to apologise to Remus for all they made him go through."

Fenrir carefully turned Harry around, butting noses with the smaller man.

"Fen, it's not that... If you believe me or not, I'm not prejudiced against werewolves, but this is my life, and I won't let anybody force me into making such a decision, neither you, nor your pack. I want to be accepted for who I am, and not attain some worth by giving up what I fought so hard to keep. I'm sorry."

"You're a sweet little thing, Harry," Fenrir murmured. "And I don't want you to change. Don't worry about it anymore." He pressed a kiss first to Harry's nose, then another one to the soft, pink lips. "But you'll come back with me, and I'll just have to keep an extra eye on you - not that I mind the sight."

With a small laugh, Harry snuggled into Fenrir's broad chest, relishing in the warmth the werewolf's body emitted. "I have to talk with Remus, anyway."

"What about?" Fenrir grumbled, surprised when Harry tensed; he hadn't thought this question was too intrusive. "What is wrong? You weren't crying because of me earlier, were you?"

"No, I'm afraid not." Harry snorted. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"Harry..."

"I need to talk with Remus," Harry insisted. "I just need to speak with David, but after that we can be on our way. Unless you need rest?"

Harry smirked teasingly at the werewolf, sidling out of his embrace when Fenrir growled. Harry disappeared for a moment in the adjoining bathroom, and Fenrir heard the splashing of water and some grumbles. Finally, Harry re-emerged, his face refreshed and his hair remotely more tame. Harry hesitated briefly in the door before walking over to the cupboard, sifting through it. He held up a thick, woollen blanket triumphantly and added a multi-coloured scarf, a hat and a mismatched pair of thick socks. He made a bundle of them and handed it to Fenrir.

"So you won't have to worry about me getting cold anymore." Harry pecked Fenrir's cheek, grinning when Fenrir pulled him flush against his chest. "Why, can I do something for you, my Alpha?"

Fenrir rumbled in pleasure, playfully nibbling on Harry's throat and neck. He didn't draw back and so his words were mumbled. "I think you can, my little white one. I just thought that maybe a bed would be a nice change of scenery. You'd look good on it, your legs spread for me and your hands holding onto the headboard as I pound into you until you think you'll split open from that delicious pain."

"Mhm, that sounds like a valuable suggestion," Harry purred. "And maybe, if you perform to my satisfaction, I'll have another idea afterwards. Involving the bathroom, what do you say? Up for a challenge?"

"You bet." Fenrir grinned savagely and slid his hands under Harry's clothes, tracing the fine pectoral muscles under soft skin. "I'll make you scream my name, little one, and forget your own."

"I'm in," Harry replied, smirking. "What do you wager?"

"If, and the probability of that is more than slim, but if I should lose, I'll give you a blowjob you'll never forget," Fenrir murmured seductively after having hesitated briefly.

Harry chuckled. "I hope you mean that in a positive way, wolfie." He moaned when Fenrir began to suck on his neck, grazing the sensitive skin with his sharp teeth, licking soothingly, rubbing his bearded cheek against it.

-BEGINNING OF LEMON-

Fenrir smirked to himself, before slowly and torturously (for both of them) divesting Harry of his clothes, worshipping the revealed skin with idle swirls of his tongue. Harry groaned, his eyes fluttering close in obvious pleasure and he swayed slightly into the werewolf. Fenrir grabbed Harry's bottom, so tight and sweet and perfect, lifting him with ease so that Harry could wrap his legs around his waist.

Fenrir pressed a tender kiss to Harry's lips for his obedience and while still kissing him, carried him over to the bed, carefully putting the slender man down before pouncing on him. He tore of the last pieces of clothes separating them, growling deeply as all that delicious, milky moonlight skin was revealed to him. Harry grinned lazily at him as if he knew exactly what the werewolf was thinking, and drew the other man a little closer with his legs so that their erections brushed.

Fenrir growled, his eyes darkening with lust. For a moment, he wished he could just thrust into that pliant body, hard and fast, leave bruises on that pale skin, draw blood. But he didn't want to hurt the young human and when Harry grabbed one of his hands and gently began to lap on his fingers, coating them liberally with his saliva, all the while staring up at the werewolf with complete insubordination, he realised that a bit of consideration paid off handsomely.

"Enough," Fenrir finally croaked, pulling his fingers out of Harry's mouth with a soft plop; Harry licked his lips. "Leg on my shoulder."

Harry complied readily with an amused grin at how flustered Fenrir already was and hooked his right leg over the werewolf's shoulder, thus giving the older man enough room to trail his fingers to his cleft and push one of his digits in.

Harry hissed in pain. Fenrir was never particularly gentle or patient, but there was a possessive, awkward tenderness in the way he touched and looked at Harry, as if he would never allow anyone to hurt the younger man, but if Harry was to be hurt it would be by Fenrir himself. It made the ex-Gryffindor feel warm in a way he wasn't willing to analyse. It made living less of a hazard.

A second finger soon joined the first, and before Harry had done much more than taken a surprised breath a third finger was pushed into him, breaching the line between discomfort and pain.

"Fen, give me a moment," Harry demanded, almost laughing at the surprise clearly written on the werewolf's face. "No one can adjust that fast."

"No human, you mean?" Fenrir asked conversationally, tentatively crooking his fingers a little; Harry dug his nails into Fenrir's thigh.

"I wouldn't know about werewolves," Harry pressed out. "That's your expertise."

"I never prepared them." Fenrir shrugged. "With them I didn't have to worry about damaging them permanently. Now relax."

"You try relaxing with three fingers up your ass," Harry hissed testily. "If you had rushed it before you wouldn't have to wait now."

The werewolf smirked, wriggling his fingers once again. "Hm, I know, but I couldn't resist anymore. You smell like... mine." He growled when Harry chuckled. "Cheeky little thing, that's exactly why I'm doing this."

He quickly withdrew his fingers replacing them with his straining erection, causing Harry to whimper and dig his nails in deeper. "Do you have any fucking idea how fucking much this hurts?"

"No, not really," Fenrir answered carelessly, starting to move with shallow thrusts in and out of Harry. "I told you to relax."

"Thank you," Harry spat. "Dammit, Fen, this is not funny. Stop!"

Fenrir blinked and froze, only cautiously caressing Harry's thighs and sides. The thin man was trembling, biting his lip with his eyes closed. For a moment, Fenrir was afraid Harry would start crying, and he touched one finger to Harry's cheek.

"I'll be more careful next time, tight little human," Fenrir murmured apologetically. "I didn't mean to hurt you. Do you need me to...?"

"I'll be fine," Harry whispered.

"I can smell your blood," Fenrir growled. "Why? You weren't so... sensitive the last time."

Harry laughed and immediately winced as his body shook. "Fen, it's been more than a week, and I for one haven't been engaging in these activities with anyone else."

"I know," there was satisfaction in the werewolf's voice. "But you're tense today. Why? Is it because-"

"No, it's not because of you or your pack. I'm just a bit on edge," Harry interrupted him. "Move, Fen. I'm ready."

"Why is it not possible for us to have a serious conversation?" Fenrir asked in exasperation, but started to rotate his hips slowly.

"While you're balls-deep inside of me?" Harry moaned. "Not likely. Fen, deeper."

"Harry, I don't want you to always distract me with sex," Fenrir protested, but obeyed Harry's pleas.

"Right now, sweetheart, you're the distraction," Harry whispered, closing his eyes. "Don't make me start crying, Fen. Just let me forget for a little while. Please."

"Of course, silly little thing," Fenrir leaned down to claim Harry's lips in a bruising kiss. "You may forget everything but my name."

Harry smiled and met Fenrir's next push with a push of his own, keening encouragingly when his prostate was stroked. Gradually, Fenrir picked up speed, bending Harry almost in half with the force of his thrusts until Harry's hot breath ghosted over his neck, his soft panting in his ear and the smell of Harry all around him.

Finger after finger, he closed one hand around Harry's erection, made slick and even more silky by his precum, and started to pump almost leisurely, savouring the sharp contrast between his thrusts and the movement of his hand, Harry's suppressed moans and the crescendo of his own deep groans. Then, Harry came with a shudder, sinking his teeth into Fenrir's shoulder.

Fenrir howled in pleasure as Harry's walls clenched and rippled around him. He shoved a few more times into his lover until he also found his release, shooting his seed deep into the black-haired young man, who had dropped bonelessly into the pillows. Fenrir kept still for a moment to catch his breath before carefully pulling out. He gathered Harry in his arms, tenderly brushing sweaty locks out of the pale face, just caressing and patting him until Harry tiredly blinked his eyes open.

"Thanks."

"I think it was to our mutual enjoyment," Fenrir grumbled, pecking Harry's nose. "So what was your idea for the bathroom?"

"You lost," Harry mumbled. "I didn't scream your name."

"You would have."

"But I didn't." Harry smirked.

"You cheated. I'm not allowed to bite you, so you mustn't either." Fenrir stated, absently wiping his blood from Harry's lip.

"Oh, but I think you enjoyed it, wolfie," Harry returned, snuggling into the werewolf, who sighed. "As I will enjoy my blowjob."

Fenrir grumbled, but nonetheless scooted lower besides Harry's body. Harry put a pale hand on his muscled shoulder, stopping him.

"Why don't we take a shower, Fen?"

"Are you sure?" Fenrir asked suspiciously. "Don't you want that blowjob?"

Harry shrugged. "You had a point. I did kind of cheat and I don't want you to do something you don't want to do. Besides," - he grinned - "who can guarantee me that you won't take your revenge and bite me as well? I'd like to keep my privates intact, if you don't mind."

Fenrir snorted, but then kissed Harry in a silent thank you, thrusting his tongue past the younger man's lips, while one hand splayed possessively over the flat stomach. He moved his mouth to Harry's neck, suckling until he was sure to have left a bruise on the perfect, cream-coloured skin.

"You can't imagine how much I long to sink my teeth into your flesh," Fenrir grumbled, absently swiping his tongue over the abused skin. "Taste that sweet blood."

"You can, you know?" Harry murmured, leaning his head against Fenrir's. "I don't mind as long as you don't turn me."

"But that's the problem, little moonlight." Fenrir sighed, kissing Harry's neck. "I might just turn you."

Harry looked sideways at him. "Why? I thought you could control it? That you can only turn someone in your human form when you really want to."

Fenrir chuckled. "And why wouldn't I want to? If I bit you in passion it would be with the intention to mark you as my own, and what better way to do that than to make you my own little werewolf?"

"Oh. I guess then I'll be the only one biting." Harry smiled apologetically up at him. "Though I'll try to make up for it."

"I'm sure you will." Fenrir smirked before scooping Harry's up into his arms. "Right now, to be more precise."

"Of course, wolfie." Harry laughed before starting to nibble on the werewolf's earlobe. "Anything for my werewolf."

"That's the attitude," Fenrir said with satisfaction, carefully putting Harry down in the spacious shower. "Close your eyes, I'm going to turn on the water."

The green eyes obediently fluttered close, and Fenrir once again snaked one arm around the thin waist before he switched on the water, quickly adjusting it to the right temperature. He backed Harry against the wall. Suddenly he laughed.

"Did you know that I wanted to do this" - Without further warning, he pushed into Harry's welcoming warmth, lifting the slender man off his feet to get him to the right level. - "since the very first time I saw you?"

"I assumed as much," Harry answered before he was interrupted by the groan that spilled from his throat as Fenrir hit his prostate.

"And this time, I'll hear no complaints, will I?" Fenrir inquired softly. "I'm not hurting you."

Though Fenrir hadn't said it as a question, Harry shook his head to appease the werewolf and wrapped his arms around Fenrir's neck, partly to stop himself from being pushed into the wall with each of Fenrir's thrusts and partly because he just wanted to be even closer to the werewolf.

Truth be told, he was too tired for this. He just wanted to curl up under the covers of his nice, warm, dry bed with Fenrir next to him, feeling his soothing presence and pretend for just a little while like everything was okay. Since that was out of the question, however, it wasn't such a sacrifice to settle for being distracted.

When Fenrir reached his second climax, he stayed inside of Harry, rocking them slightly, while stroking Harry's over the edge. He held the younger man through his orgasm, littering kisses over the side of his face. He didn't want to separate. Harry felt so good, in his arms, around him. Soft velvet over delicate strength.

"I'm getting cold, Fen," Harry murmured, still resting against the werewolf's shoulder with Fenrir's cock buried inside of him. "You're stealing all the water."

Indeed, the warm water cascaded over Fenrir, who was shielding Harry from the spray almost completely. Fenrir grunted in displeasure, but turned them around so that he was leaning against the wall and Harry was warmed by the water.

"Now shut up," he grumbled. "I'm enjoying myself and your nagging is ruining it."

"Well, sorry," Harry said sarcastically, wrapping his legs around Fenrir's waist to be able to relax a little better. "Tell me when you're done enjoying yourself."

Fenrir just grumbled, holding Harry close until he felt ready, if still not willing, to let the young man go. But Harry looked tired, exhausted, and their position must be getting uncomfortable for him. So he grasped Harry by the hips and lifted him down, keeping him steady when Harry's legs trembled.

-END OF LEMON-

"Let's get cleaned up, my small one." Fenrir brushed a kiss over Harry's forehead. "And then I'll bring you to your Remus so that he can help you."

"Thank you, Fen," Harry murmured, inspecting the many bottles of shampoo and soap. "What kind of soap do you want?"

"Don't care," the werewolf grumbled. "You can choose."

"Okay, I always take this vanilla-orange stuff, but I don't think that would suit you..." Fenrir grimaced at the thought of him smelling like a Christmas cookie, and Harry laughed. "How about this one?" He uncapped a bottle for Fenrir, holding it close to the werewolf's nose. "It's supposed to be a very manly scent."

Fenrir sniffed cautiously, but then gave a short nod. The soap smelled vaguely like herbs and ice and a lot like chemistry, but that was something he could deal with. He reached out to take the bottle from Harry, but the black-haired man drew back with a smile.

"Let me?" Harry squeezed some of the soap into the palm of his hand and reached out to smooth the gooey liquid over Fenrir's strong pectoral muscles.

Fenrir barely suppressed a groan when Harry's slender fingers glided over his skin, rubbing and kneading his muscles until he felt pleasantly relaxed. Harry took great care not to leave out even the smallest patch of skin, his skimming fingers teasing Fenrir's cock back to semi-hardness before he abruptly devoted himself to lathering the soles of the werewolf's feet. When Fenrir growled testily, he merely laughed, lifted up to his tip toes to peck Fenrir's lips and then washed off all the suds.

"If you lower your head, I can wash your hair, as well," Harry murmured, reaching for the corresponding shampoo. "Why did you cut your hair?"

"It was all tangled and felted," Fenrir grumbled, obediently lowering his head for Harry. "I'll grow it out again."

"I like it better short," Harry offered, carding his fingers through the thick silver strands. "I like to actually see your face."

The werewolf grunted, absently rubbing his thumbs over Harry's fine hipbones. "I guess it's easier to keep it clean when it's short."

Harry laughed and continued with his ministrations until the werewolf was clean from head to toe. Fenrir used the opportunity to steal several chaste and not so chaste kisses before he took the bottle with the vanilla soap to return the favour. It wasn't so bad, he admitted, smelling more of oranges and other citrus fruits than of vanilla. Harry purred as the rough hands slid over his body and ran through his wild hair, trying to work out all the tangles with little success.

"I guess I would have to shave bald to get my hair under control," Harry mumbled, and the werewolf growled.

"Don't you dare! You'll leave your hair exactly how it is now," Fenrir ordered. "Now bend over."

"Excuse me?" Harry sputtered. "I'm not going to 'bend over' just because you feel like round three. I 'bent over' enough for today, thank you very much."

"Oh, shut up, princess," Fenrir grumbled, swiftly turning Harry around and pressing a heavy hand down on the thin back. "I want to check how much I hurt you, now hold still."

Harry was tense as Fenrir spread the two perfect globes and gently prodded the reddened entrance, directing the warm spray of water to wash away the few red and white drops.

"Do you have a healing salve or something?" Fenrir asked, allowing Harry to straighten up again.

Harry swirled around, glaring up at the werewolf and throwing a right hook at Fenrir's chin. "Don't you ever do this again. I'm not a puppet on strings that you can put this way or that, how ever the hell you please. This is not acting like a princess; this is acting like a human being with feelings - not that you would know the difference! Don't touch me!" Harry shied back when the werewolf reached out to him. "I have a few things to take care of. I don't care what you do."


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