The first night was the hardest.

Upperclassmen, Marrok found, regarded first year students as a pack of omegas, there only to amuse. Uncomfortably full of overcooked meat, Marrok had no trouble hearing them lay bets among themselves over which boys and girls would cry the loudest for their mummies as they went to bed.

Marrok didn't cry. Wolves never wept. No, he had other problems.

Like the stone ceiling that he kept feeling was about to fall on him and crush him. Like the unnatural requirement of sleeping in manshape, on his back. Like the alien textures of sheets and pillows and blankets and the false security of bedclothes. Like the absence of his packmates, the warmth of their bodies and their weight all around him and their scents in his nose.

That was when it hit him, what he'd done in coming here. He was alone. This place, this group, these Slytherin...these were his pack now.

He stared at the stone ceiling, wishing it was sky, and wondered - if this is a pack, who is the alpha? What are the rankings?

He mulled over what he knew and could guess, from dinner and from the groupings he'd seen. The Quidditch players, they had the highest status. He had no idea what Quidditch was - he guessed it a game simply from the pattern of talk - but the ones who 'played on the team' were given more space than others. But that was still too many people. Packs answered to one Alpha, or one mated Alpha pair.

Obey your alpha. It was the first rule of the pack. In a lot of ways it was the only rule of the pack. To disobey was to challenge; to lose was to be punished or killed. So...who was Slytherin Alpha?

It was no one in the common room, he was sure. Alphas stood apart from the pack, to watch over it and lead it. Urlach liked to sit up high, on fallen trees or tall rocks. Everyone in the common room had been in at least pairs, more often larger groups, and none of them looked like anything so much as allied groups.

He started suspecting there wasn't one right about the time the silence around him got very busy.

Marrok surprised several upperclassman by not making a single sound when he opened his eyes to find them surrounding his bed, preparatory to a first-year initiation ceremony. At least, they would have been surprised if they'd had time. To all appearances, Marrok went from sleeping to wide awake and trying to claw Adrian Pucey's eyes out in less than a second.

It took several spells, some minutes later, to separate Marrok's teeth from Terrence Higgs' shin.

That was when he found out who the alpha of Slytherin was.

And memorized the name of Severus Snape.

* * *

"So," said the Potions Master, sitting - in Marrok's opinion - far too close to him. The office - and Snape - stank of potions and potion ingredients. And wolfsbane. He gave Snape a sudden, sharp look - but while he was too close for his nose's sake, he was too far for Marrok to clearly read his expression. "A werewolf in Hogwarts. A werewolf in Slytherin."

Marrok moved to stand - and saw the blur that was Snape point an object at him. "Sit down, mister Urlachson," ordered Snape. "I do not wish to bind you to that chair as it would impede your ability to answer my questions - but do not doubt I will do so if you give me cause. And you will find yourself expelled by morning."

Marrok froze, moved carefully back down into his seat. It was time to choose the lesser evil - and whatever this wolfsbane-coated man might do to him, it could not be as bad as what his father would do if he were to be expelled.

"That's better," said Snape, but the wand didn't move. "Now - I have werewolf-bitten Slytherin in my House. Tell me, mister Urlachson, does your bite confer lycanthropy?"

Marrok blinked. "Confer lycanthropy?"

The wand twitched. "Do not toy with me, mister Urlachson," growled Snape. "Do people you bite become werewolves?"

"Oh," said Marrok. He was on firm ground with this - his pack had already told him what to say. "No, Professor Snape. It would be better to think of me as a wolf-Animagus, not a werewolf as you understand the term."

The blur moved, gathered something - Marrok's nose informed him that it was certainly wolfsbane. "Is that so...mister Urlachson," drawled the Potions Master. "But a wolf Animagus would have nothing to fear from wolfsbane, would he..."

Ugh - the stuff smelled terrible; it was impossible to think that Snape could possibly possess so stunted a sense of smell. He leaned away from the stench reflexively - Snape darted forward and pressed the plant against his skin.

Marrok tried to endure it as long as he could, but in the end he had to jerk his arm away to scratch at it; the skin where the plant had touched was hot and red and itchy. "I'm allergic to wolfsbane," he growled in a surly way. "But that doesn't mean the boy I bit will be a werewolf. It doesn't work like that."

"Hmmm...." said Snape, holding Marrok's arm in an iron grip. "Allergic. Interesting." Abruptly he let Marrok go and returned to his own seat behind his desk. "Why should I believe you, mister Urlachson?"

The night was late, and Marrok was tired. "We - my pack - we don't change with the full moon. The moon doesn't affect us at all."

"Your...pack," noted Snape quietly. "And you're allergic to wolfsbane. I wonder, are you allergic to silver as well?"

Marrok was about to snap that he had no idea, when he realized that this would simply mean Snape had an excuse to press silver on him or try to cut him with silver. Given the uncomfortable heat in his right arm, he didn't feel up to any more 'experimentation'. So he only repeated, "He won't become a werewolf."

Snape's arms moved; Marrok thought maybe the man was steepling his fingers. "I am required by Dumbledore to keep your secret, Marrok," he said mildly. "I may not inform mister Higgs or any of your other playmates that you are a werewolf." A hint of sarcastic amusement entered his voice as he continued, "Doubtless Dumbledore worries that it would interfere with your studies. However, mister Urlachson, if I should ever hear of you biting another student again, in any shape, I will personally guarantee that you are expelled. Is that clear?"

Marrok bowed his head, keeping his eyes on the floor to indicate his submission. Professor Snape was his Alpha here, he understood now. But you will never be worthy of the respect given to a true Alpha. True alphas don't sneak! Snape should have been in the common room earlier. He should have been keeping order...

Unless this is all play, Marrok realized. If the boys had been playing, then naturally the Alpha would not interfere. Pup games would be beneath his notice.

It was late, and he was tired and very confused. So when he was dismissed he simply obeyed, trundling at Snape's side back to the Slytherin common room where Terrence Higgs was already making much of the fact that "the little bugger bit me!"

Marrok was so tired from his fight and the adventures of the day that, manshape or not, when he hit the sheets this time he was asleep almost as soon as he'd pulled the covers around him. He was without fur, and the castle was cold.