"Ginny?"

She nodded, grinning and crying at the same time, obviously not yet having seen what Hermione had. Vaguely Harry wondered where Ron was as he took a hesitant step back from the four.

"Harry? What – what's wrong? Are you… all right?" Ginny asked, following him. Harry watched her eyes widen in horror and took another step back. He'd heard the bell over the door jingling even if they hadn't in the confusion.

He came up against a familiar broad chest, long arms wrapping around him tightly. He could smell Remus standing not far behind Fenrir and Wormtail further back; at the moment, he didn't care. He spun around and buried his face in the soft fabric of Greyback's shirt, closing his eyes to the increasingly frantic Weasleys who were calling his name and asking what was going on. Fenrir bared his teeth at them in a savage grin and, tightening his grip on Harry, Apparated away.

The wards around the castle held them in limbo for several agonizing seconds before they were identified satisfactorily and deposited in the entrance hall. Wormtail straightened his cloak, looking a little burnt around the edges and still shaking from a variety of spells he hadn't been able to dodge, and stalked away with what dignity he could manage. Remus turned to ask Fenrir whether they needed to report to Voldemort but found him frowning down at Harry. The younger male was shaking, eyes dilated unnaturally and clutching at the alpha's shoulders with a white-knuckled grip.

"Call Severus," Greyback snapped, picking up his mate and glaring at Remus when he did nothing. "What are you waiting for?"

"He's got powder all over his face," Remus muttered, peering closer. He quickly put his hand over his mouth and nose when the scent hit him. "Shite. That's a lust potion."

"Will it harm him?" Fenrir growled out.

"No, he won't have gotten a large dose. It will last for a few hours, though. I think Snape could brew an antidote in a few minutes – "

"Nevermind," Fenrir strode away, grinning. "I can handle this."

Harry was squirming lightly against him and distracting Fenrir with every step. He was used to his mate being receptive, but Harry never initiated anything between them. Greyback had noticed that every time they had sex the smaller male was more active, more willing, responding and returning the pleasure Fenrir gave him a little more each time, but it was nothing like this. By the time they reached the third floor where their room was located Harry had wrapped his legs around Fenrir's waist and was licking and sucking at his neck. Fenrir nearly walked past their room, distracted with the hands in his hair and the needy little whines Harry made every time their hips brushed.

He threw open the door and nearly tossed Harry on the bed, pulling off his shirt and growling, "Naked, now!"

Harry bared one fang at him and shrugged out of his cloak then wriggled his hips purposely as he pulled off his pants and flung them away. Fenrir was on him in a second and pushing Harry over onto his stomach.

(Edited for Content)

"And why aren't they here to report?" Lucius Malfoy demanded when Remus had finished explaining how they'd gotten Pettigrew away from Moody and Shacklebolt before retrieving Harry.

Wormtail glanced at Remus, too, having wondered the same thing when Greyback and Potter didn't follow them to the attendance chamber where Voldemort waited. He was surprised to see a slight blush on the werewolf's face.

"Harry was covered in powder from some product at Borgin and Burke's … a lust potion."

Only someone watching very closely would have noticed the slight widening of the Dark Lord's eyes before they narrowed. "They are not here to report … because they're fucking?"

Snape frowned at Lupin, "What potion was it? Something like that at Borgin's might have less than pleasant side effects."

Remus shook his head, "I'm not certain the exact identity – it was medium dark green, fairly large granules, and it smelled like … pumpkin and vanilla, I think."

Everyone watched Snape as he frowned, mentally listing the potions that might match that description. He eventually nodded at Voldemort, "It's a complicated lust potion, illegal because it overrides all resistance and in many cases causes infertility."

"Reassuring that it was given to a werewolf, then," Voldemort snapped. "Is there anything else dangerous in it?"

Snape shook his head, "It's not an easy potion to brew or administer … how did the boy get it all over him, Lupin?"

Remus had to think over the layout of the shop before he could come up with an answer. "There was a damaged vase next to him when we arrived. It looked like it had been hit with an offensive spell and burst under the impact. Harry must have been close to it and the powder landed on him."

Snape nodded, "Interesting; they must have mixed the potion with the porcelain before firing the vase – it probably gave off mild effects just through skin contact, which would explain its presence in Burke's."

Voldemort waved him aside. "Anything else, Lupin?"

He nodded reluctantly, "We should expect Harry's name to be in the Prophet tomorrow. He was there long enough for at least one of the children to recognize his cloak, and he didn't try to explain anything to them or leave the shop with them. I'm sure Granger at the very least would have put it all together."

The Dark Lord ignored that, "It was only a matter of time before someone decided to declare him Dark and make it stick. Next time, I expect less negligence on duty." Remus bowed, not so much as flinching when Voldemort turned his wand on Pettigrew and cursed him. Wormtail fell to the ground and thrashed, his metal hand making an echo bounce around the room when it banged on the floor. Severus had been able to reattach the hand but it wasn't as dexterous as before and had reverted to a silver and tin mixture rather than pure silver as it had been.

When he lifted the curse Voldemort rose from his throne and gestured for Remus to follow him. When they were out of the hall and walking alone, he began to speak. "Construction is nearly finished on the Mudblood school. How do you think Potter will react to teaching them?"

Remus bit his lip, controlling his surprise. After he considered it, he answered honestly, "I understand he enjoyed teaching students from Hogwarts in the Defense Association. What is he going to be teaching?"

"Charms," said Voldemort, heading up the stairs. "Defense may be his specialty, but it would present too much of a temptation for our resident hero…. Tell me, Remus, do you think he would ever go back?" he paused on the stairs to see Remus' face when he answered.

"I – I think he wants to, ideally. But Harry's realistic enough to know it would never last …. No. I don't think he would take the chance to escape now." He met the Dark Lord's eyes, trying to control a wince. Werewolves were naturally protected from most Legillimens, but Voldemort was no average wizard. After a time, the older man nodded and continued.

"I think we shall deliver the good news now."

"Now?" Remus gaped, closing his jaw with a snap when Voldemort shot a glare his way.

"I see someone was in too much of a hurry to set a simple Eavesdropping hex," the older man hissed, frowning as they entered the right corridor and immediately heard a mixture of moans and cries coming from the room down the center. Voldemort twitched his fingers and the door flew open.

Remus grimaced and remained at the door. Even from here his nose was overwhelmed and he would have left but it was obvious Voldemort intended to interrupt.

Fenrir paused for a moment, raising his head from where he had been gently gnawing on his mate's shoulder to look over his shoulder. Harry grunted beneath him and raised his hips, trying to get Fenrir's attention and, when that failed, forcibly grasping the alpha's head and jerking him back down.

"I will separate you two if you do not pay attention," Voldemort hissed, drawing his wand.

Harry turned his head slightly, green eyes narrowed and hissed back, "What do you want, that can't wait five minutes?"

There was a split second where Voldemort was shocked enough at hearing another person speak Parseltongue that he didn't realize what the brat had said. He drew his wand.

Before he could send a curse at the black-haired werewolf, Fenrir had lowered his own body to cover Harry and growled threateningly at the older man. Remus, fighting instincts that were telling him to get out of there as quickly as possible, stepped forward enough to be in Voldemort's sight without blocking his wand.

"They've both gotten a dose of the potion, my Lord. I don't believe either of them are fully aware of their actions right now." He was talking fast, the continued growling from Fenrir almost making his knees buckle.

Voldemort backed down after a moment. "Fenrir. I want a report from you as soon as this potion wears off … I will punish Potter later."

He swept out of the room, ignoring Remus who was only half a step behind him and closed the door carefully.

Harry tightened his ass around the cock buried inside him, grinning when Fenrir stopped growling. He had enough time to appreciate the possessive, protective look on the older werewolf's face before Fenrir snapped his hips forward sharply and drew him back into ecstasy.

When the potion wore off it was dark outside and neither Harry nor Fenrir felt like moving so much as a single muscle. The bigger male considered for a moment ignoring Voldemort's summons until morning but decided it was only fair if he woke the tyrant up in the middle of the night. He left Harry curled under the covers, barely twitching when Fenrir left and pulled on a clean shirt and trousers.

Voldemort was indeed asleep. His resurrection had left him less than human, though, so he didn't require as much sleep as a normal person and wasn't as upset as expected to be woken.

"Pettigrew was distracted with escaping … Moody and Shacklebolt?" he asked, taking a seat in front of the fire and gesturing for the werewolf to take the other chair.

"Both were still breathing when we left, but I doubt Moody survived unless he got to a mediwizard within fifteen minutes. Lupin got him right across the base of his neck with a slicing curse … I don't know about Shacklebolt. He's a berserker, hard to tell in the heat of things how badly he's really been hurt, but he'll walk with a limp from now on."

"How did Potter react to the Weasleys and Granger?"

Fenrir was used to the Dark Lord's quick topic changes and didn't pause in answering, "Well, considering. He didn't make a move toward them."

"Good. I think he should visit them again, but next time, under the moon."

Fenrir grinned, showing his sharp canines. He had a redhead girl to pay back, in any case.

Harry stared down the hill with a feeling of dread and finality settling in his stomach like a lead brick.

"This is my punishment?"

"This is it," Fenrir agreed, taking in the heady scent behind the boy's ear. "You're to turn the oldest … and any others you can."

Harry knew his were wouldn't disobey, "What about the wards? Protections around the house?"

The grin that crossed the man's face was scary in the faint light, "They're mostly set to detect the Dark Mark … and neither of us are Death Eaters, are we Coyote?"

Harry nodded, smiling a little at his 'wolf' name. Both Fenrir and Remus told him he was too skinny and gangly, even as a wolf, and he looked more like a thin-legged coyote than a timber wolf. Besides, Fenrir had insisted he needed a name other than the human tag he had been given, and Harry's mannerisms and voice were closer to a coyote than the other werewolves in Fenrir's pack.

Harry's head shot up at a rustle in the trees, but it was only Remus. He was stripping with mechanical movements and setting his clothing in the bag Fenrir had brought with them. Surprisingly enough, the alpha didn't detest clothing – just the opposite, actually. He always wore very soft fabrics for the sheer physical sensation and dressed simply but in quality. The bag was a pre-set Portkey that would return to the castle in a few minutes when they had no more need for clothing.

Harry shivered, not at the chill for being naked in the night air, but in knowing he would be responsible for at least one more werewolf after tonight. Fenrir tightened his arms around Harry's shoulders and drew him closer, resting his chin on the dark hair while he kept an eye out for the moon. When it began to rise above the tree line on the opposite hill he gave the last instructions.

"Keep as quiet as you can until we get close. Moony, keep them from going for help. Once we're done head back here and we'll rest in the forest until morning."

Both younger werewolves nodded and Harry stood, stretching his arms in a vain effort to ease out the ache that was developing. They stayed there, moving around a little but keeping in the shadow of the trees until the moon was full in the sky. Fenrir gave no signal before he ran toward the hill, body suddenly silver in the moonlight; Harry and Remus were only a few paces behind him.

Reaching out for his were, Harry felt the change coming smoothly and flowed from human to werewolf with barely a pause. The scent of redheaded wizards filled the air and they flew down the hill and into the field behind the tottering house silent and quick. The urge to howl and greet mother moon was strong but they resisted for the moment, more intent on the alpha's orders.

Magic swept over them with a harsh pull on their fur but the wards didn't stop them. Coyote pulled ahead, skidding to a stop in front of the kitchen door and butting his head against the latch so the bottom half swung open with a faint creak. Fenrir nipped his flank in approval and stalked past him, sniffing around the room.

Moony went to the fireplace and knocked over the pot of Floo powder then turned, lifted his leg and peed, destroying the green powder. Coyote crept into the living room, following the rank scent of unwashed human. He paused for a moment and stilled at seeing the tall silhouette at the window, staring up at the moon. The long hair, the scarred face, the earring identified him easily. Coyote nearly wagged his tail in delight at finding his prey so easily.

Bill turned, sixth sense jangling in alarm and gasped at the glowing green amber eyes watching him. He backed up and knocked over a stack of WWW order forms, half stumbling and reaching for the wand he'd left upstairs under his pillow.

The black wolf leapt, crushing him against the wall with a feral snarl. Bill yelled as sharp teeth sank deep into his arm and ripped, sliding down the wall weakly. The werewolf turned from him and bounded away just as lights came on and people started running down the stairs.

Arthur rushed into the room first, wand held out in front of him. He searched around quickly, sighting the half-open door, the puddle on the floor, and a faint red smear on the living room wall. He ran toward it frantically. "Bill!"

Jaws clamped around his outstretched arm and he yelled incoherently as his wrist was crushed beneath the powerful grip. He heard screaming behind him and, fighting against the dark wolf shaking his arm like a rag doll, turned to see Ginny backed into a corner before an enormous dark gray wolf. He shouted a warning but was unable to do anything but watch as she broke into a run for the door and was caught by the leg and flung to the floor.

Fred, George and Molly came down together, already shooting spells toward the werewolves. Arthur felt relief both at their actions and physically as he was released; that is, until he noticed the black wolf heading for the trio on the stairs along with a third he hadn't caught sight of before.

Molly knew few spells worked against full-grown werewolves and was charming her pots and pans to slam into the beasts and create a barrier between her sons and the lycans. Fred was freezing patches of the floor, making the larger wolf slip and take his attention off them; George Summoned his mother's gardening tools and shoved back the black wolf with a vicious stab toward his foreleg.

Arthur stumbled toward the stairs after finding Bill unconscious but alive. "Keep them there, I'll get the brooms and get us out of here!" he shouted as he headed up the stairs with his bleeding wrist clutched against his chest, fighting the fire shooting through his veins. He got halfway up the stairs before Molly's screams and pained howling filled the air.

In a moment he had gone back to see his wife kneeling on the floor clutching their daughter's body close, rocking back and forth and screaming at Ginny to open her eyes. Bill was leaning against the door, wand pointed into the darkness. One of the wolves was on the floor, snarling, with a butcher knife protruding from just in front of its hind leg.

"Floo the Ministry," Bill rasped, barely able to stand upright. He was already weak and having to use his father's wand instead of his own was tiring.

"No Floo powder," Fred gasped, trying hard not to look at his mother and the bloody mess that had been his sister.

Arthur stumbled over and pulled out the hollow brick from above the fireplace with its cache of emergency Floo powder as Bill was locking and spelling the door shut.

"George, go secure the windows and anything else they might get through," Bill said on a gasp, sinking to the floor still facing the door.

Fred glanced over his shoulder and watched his twin go, before he went to Bill and tried to help him. He wrapped a kitchen towel around the badly bleeding arm, hands shaking when he noticed the dark stain spreading. "They won't come back, Bill. What'd you use to make them run like that, anyway? Know anything to make that one go to sleep?" he nodded toward the snarling wolf bleeding in the corner; it kept trying to get up but failed when its legs couldn't support it.

"They'll be back. Look around, Fred, these aren't random werewolves who somehow opened the door and stayed quiet until we were in the room." he gasped as Fred pressed on the wound to stem the bleeding. "And we'd better either put that one to sleep or kill it," he choked. "It'll heal in another hour or two."

"Aurors are coming." Arthur said, pulling his head out of the fire. He looked at Molly as George came back and stood in the doorway, unsure what to do.

"Make sure the others don't come down here," Bill said low, pushing Fred toward the stairs. "The kids don't need to see this."

Fred nodded, dragging George with him. He wasn't sure how Ron and Hermione had slept through that racket, or Fleur, but it would do no good to have them go down there now and see the aftermath.

Arthur greeted the Aurors, Palmer and Leef, who arrived moments later in full battle dress. They stared around the kitchen, which was in ruins and spattered with blood in several places.

"How many?" Palmer asked as Leef moved toward Bill and examined his wound.

"Three werewolves," Arthur said, nodding to the corner. Palmer strode forward and hit the werewolf with three Stunning spells in quick succession before the lycan went limp. He yanked the butcher knife free and stared down at the animal, obviously considering finishing the beast off right then.

"Palmer." Leef snapped, nodding back toward Arthur. Palmer nodded and told Arthur to Floo to the Ministry along with Bill. A Portkey was attached to the werewolf and Leef remained behind to secure the house and take statements. He was quick and finished within half an hour; moments after he Apparated away the Weasleys and Hermione Flooed to Minerva McGonagall's home when their house was surrounded with howling.

Deep in the Ministry's holding cells was a large room set with reinforced bars and strips of silver around the outside. Not far away two of the Weasleys were being treated for their bite wounds and given an experimental lycanthropy antidote. Outside the cell two Aurors were waiting for the moon to go down so they could identify and begin questioning the werewolf.

Since waking, the black wolf had been pacing and howling with unusual high pitch and loud bays. He was limping from a broken right foreleg and the wound in his left hip, both of which would be gone before the moon set. He was leggy and thin and their initial assessment was that he was a poor or homeless wizard or Muggle who had joined a pack out of desperation against the new werewolf laws.

Imagine the Auror's shock when the wolf form was replaced with Harry Potter, long-missing Boy-Who-Lived. They called the Minister.

"Is he talking?" Scrimgeour asked an hour later when he arrived in the observation room; Potter was curled in a corner of the questioning room, as far as he could get from the Aurors attempting to interrogate him.

The grizzled Auror next to him shook his head, "Kid's throat is damaged – no telling whether he's a mute or not, but he hasn't made so much as a peep since the moon went down."

The Minister nodded gravely, "The Weasleys?"

"New potion seems to be working," Moody growled. "No transformation last night, anyway. They're asking to see who bit them."

Scrimgeour considered it a moment, "They knew Potter before? Might be a good idea, they might be able to get him to talk."

Moody nodded and went off to collect the two Weasley men; he wasn't fond of werewolves, even those who claimed to not be controlled by the curse when the full moon wasn't up. As far as he was concerned, once you were a werewolf, you were a Dark Creature same as Vampires, banshees and Dementors. And after the story Granger and the younger Weasleys had told them of seeing Potter in Knockturn Alley, he was more certain than ever that the curse had corrupted a light wizard.

The Weasleys were eager to see Harry. They'd heard the same story Moody had but held more faith in the young Potter; after all, they'd known him longer and if there was no hope for Harry, there was very little for them, either.

The young werewolf was only mildly more responsive to the Weasleys compared to the Aurors. He looked at them and nodded yes or no to their questions but he snarled and bared his teeth whenever they got too close, even to lend him their cloaks as he was still naked. By lunchtime it was decided to let the young man sit and stew for a while before they tried again.

Potter remained unresponsive to the Auror's questioning during this time and eventually Scrimgeour gave permission for them to use Veritaserum. At first they were able to get some information, such as why the Weasleys had been targeted and who the other werewolves were, but after a few questions Potter's voice gave out and he was physically unable to answer anything else.

In a few days the Aurors tried again, only to learn that Potter knew almost nothing about the Dark Lord other than his appearance, his power, and his plans for schooling the children of the wizarding world. He could not tell them the name or whereabouts of the castle Voldemort worked from, as he had always been Apparated there, no Floo or more ordinary means of transportation. Asking him the names of Death Eaters was useless, as all those Harry knew of actually resided at the castle; he didn't know the names of any spies or Dark supporters from the regular population. He was useless for information.

Two days later the Weasleys were released when they continued to remain wolf-free under the full moon. Once they were gone Scrimgeour gave the authorization to execute Potter quietly; he was a liability to the Ministry, he was obviously not going to be of any use to them, and if it was known by the populace that he'd been turned they might demand the precious Boy-Who-Lived be allowed free.

Harry Potter was, however, the Boy-Who-Lived. Never had it been more clear that the title was more than just a catchy phrase, that it was a description of his power, than when the Ministry tried to put him down. After assigning a Hit Wizard to perform the Killing Curse Scrimgeour had quite a time filling out paperwork trying to explain how the man died when the curse reflected. They tried an injection of silver but that was far less effective than hoped … oh, the boy was weakened and he was obviously in pain, but he didn't even lose consciousness. At that point, the Minister was a bit stymied. Poisons and other spells wouldn't work against a werewolf; the worst of the Unforgiveables had twice now proven ineffective, and even silver couldn't bring down the former Gryffindor.

Scrimgeour was considering finding a vampire or Dementor to at least cripple the Potter boy when the Aurors on guard reported that the prisoner had stopped eating. Scrimgeour decided to see where this went and ordered the guards to keep delivering meals at the scheduled times, but nothing else.

After two weeks in the cell Harry stayed in one corner nearly all day, conserving his energy and trying to keep his sanity. His were was going steadily mad without Greyback near and it was affecting Harry day and night. He'd been unable to stomach food for a few days and even water didn't always stay down. If he hadn't still been sick from the silver and the second attempt to Avada Kedavra him he probably would have been able to hold out until the next full moon, but he was too weak. He'd lost weight he couldn't afford to spare and worst of all, he was sure Coyote would drive him mad.

He'd long since realized no one was coming for him. Voldemort had so many spies and DE's in the Ministry it was inconceivable that he wouldn't be able to orchestrate an escape for Harry if he really wanted to. Harry buried his face in his knobbly knees and wished he could fall asleep and just not wake up again.

He'd heard the Weasleys were cured, until a few days ago. Seems Molly and Fleur had noticed some odd behavior in their husbands … Harry was both smug and sad at the news. He'd known, from hearing Snape complain about it, that the Ministry's experimental cure was in fact a prevention for lycanthropy if it was given within three hours of the bite. Unfortunately it caused accelerated aging on the internal organs and half of the time drove people insane. Too much wormwood, Snape said.

Harry blinked, sure he was hallucinating when the greasy Potions master appeared in his cell. The apparition approached and Harry shrank back and snarled out of habit.

"Idiot boy. I seem to be making a habit of saving your sorry hide, Potter. Perhaps I should start charging you for all of the wasted effort."

Harry stayed still the second time the dark man approached, watching in bemusement as Snape examined the slice in his arm where the silver had been injected, the starburst scars on his chest where the Killing curses had rebounded, the obvious ribs. Snape flipped back his robe and started pulling miniature potion vials out of a compartmentalized pouch on his belt. He flicked his wand at each, resizing them.

Harry started trembling when he finally accepted that help had arrived. Snape noticed it and said nothing but he did add a light blue potion to the front of the line of bottles. Tears starting running down Harry's face.

"Don't be a woman," Snape said in his customary derisive drawl. He popped open the first bottle and held it up to Harry's mouth. The werewolf swallowed the liquid, but as soon as it hit his stomach he turned and vomited.

Snape frowned, taking out his wand to do a diagnostic scan then paused when the cell door creaked as it was pushed aside again. "About time you got here. Help me get these potions in him."

Harry lifted his head weakly and saw Fenrir striding across the cell. The relief he felt was so strong he nearly passed out on the spot but managed to stay conscious by sheer force of will. He wanted to say something, ask them why it had taken so long (that sounded ungrateful), whether they were wasting time and should be fleeing (that suggested they might be caught), where the others were (that implied they needed help) but it the end it didn't matter because he couldn't form a coherent word. He opened his mouth and howled at Greyback.

Snape flinched and covered his ears, not sure how the werewolf's more sensitive hearing could stand being so close to that awful sound. He was certain then and there that the boy's voicebox had been further damaged.

Fenrir ignored Snape and picked Harry up, holding him up with one arm and rubbing over his back to soothe the wracking shudders taking over the boy's body. He glanced down at the dozen or more bottles of potion waiting to be administered. "You can take care of that later." It wasn't a question; he walked out of the cell without waiting for Snape and headed for the elevators.

Harry had calmed down by the time the elevator arrived at the top floor of the Ministry. He was surprised to see Voldemort standing in the Atrium, gazing up at the ceiling as if looking for some cosmic answer written in the tiles.

"Ah, there is our wonder boy." He held out Harry's wand, which he had not seen since before his capture, and nodded toward a group of people surrounded by Death Eaters. "Here is your chance for revenge, Potter. The Ministry is finished … their laws no longer apply – this is your chance to return to them what they tried to do to you."

Harry took the wand, feeling the familiar warm rush of magic that had always reminded him of phoenix song. Still pressed tight to his alpha, he looked over at the gathered Ministry clerks, Aurors, and guards. Eventually he shook his head and offered the wand to Voldemort again.

The Dark Lord laughed. "Keep it, Potter. I had a feeling you wouldn't completely fall…. Such a shame, you could do great things … lock him up somewhere safe, Greyback, I do not want to be bothered to hear about Potter for at least a month."

Fenrir nodded and spun about, Apparating them away. Harry was relieved beyond thought to land right in their bedroom; he was already nude and collapsed into the bed with a loud sigh. Fenrir grinned and him and stripped down to his skin before joining his mate and curling around the too-slender werewolf.

Harry felt his panic and fear recede further and further with every minute he spent in contact with Fenrir. When Snape arrived some time later to diagnose and treat him, it was only the big werewolf's hand on his belly that allowed Harry to keep the potions down. Poppy Pomfrey stopped by briefly to spell the cut on his arm closed before giving him a kind smile and leaving to treat those wounded at the Ministry. One of the potions made Harry incredibly drowsy; he turned over and buried his face in the hair across Fenrir's chest before letting himself fall asleep.

Harry woke a long time later, if the angle of the sun outside the window was any indication. He'd slept either a full day or five minutes, and judging by how full his bladder was and the lack of Fenrir in the room, it had been a day. Shaking slightly, his muscles unused to much movement, Harry stumbled off the mattress and headed for the bathroom.

He realized when he came out of the bathroom that whatever potions Snape had given him were making him a little dizzy. Harry snapped his fingers for a house elf, not trusting his voice at the moment. He jumped in surprise when the creature appeared and immediately attached itself to his leg.

"D-Dobby?"

"Master Harry Potter!" Dobby cried, gazing up at Harry with watery eyes, "Dobby is so happy to see Harry Potter again!"

"You – what about … how did you get here?" Harry said, sitting on the edge of the bed when his knees refused to support him. Dobby danced around, pulling a blanket over him, bringing him a bathrobe and slippers, and fluffing his pillows as he talked.

"Mister Lupin came to find Dobby when Harry Potter had been taken away. Dobby had been getting the castle ready with other elves but when he heard about Harry Potter Dobby agrees to come here and help master Voldemort and master Greyback find Harry."

"Find – ? But they knew I was caught by the Ministry…."

Dobby nodded as he waved his hand and a tray with some plain foods and a large pitcher of juice appeared. "Dobby asked the same question, Harry Potter. Ministry has many places to hide a person, though, and records said you were being executed." He looked near tears for a moment. "But master Greyback said you were still alive … so master Voldemort decided time was right to take over the Ministry and find someone who knew where Harry Potter was." He placed the tray on Harry's knees. "And now Dobby is to take care of master Harry until he is healthy again."

Harry looked down at the food and pumpkin juice and nearly gagged. "Where is Fenrir?"

Dobby beetled his brows, "Master Greyback is in east library with mister Lupin. Master Harry!" Dobby cried, trying to catch the flying tray when Harry flung it away and paced to the door quickly.

The anxious elf cleared away the food with a snap of his fingers and followed after Harry, mindful of his orders to not let Harry out of his sight unless he was ordered by master Greyback or master Voldemort. He could tell Harry was still tired and probably should be in bed with the way his legs wobbled and he had to use the wall to support himself some of the time. Dobby was relieved that Harry went straight to the east library.

Harry was met at the door by Remus, who looked happy to see him but his scent was anxious.

"Harry, should you be out of bed?" Remus asked, hugging Harry close; he half considered Harry his cub and the past two weeks had been terrible. He jerked back in surprise when Harry shoved his arms away and staggered to the chair Fenrir was occupying.

"Harry…?" Remus asked softly as he followed more slowly and sat opposite Fenrir. The alpha was staring in bemusement at the huddle of shivering werewolf in his lap, obviously no more aware of the cause of Harry's behavior than Remus.

Fenrir spotted the elf hovering in the doorway and muttered, "Get Severus," as he was pulling Harry up against his shoulder. He didn't care so much about the reason as the fact that Harry was upset and he didn't need any additional stress when he was already sick. Fenrir cupped the back of his mate's head and reached for the lap blanket Remus had retrieved before wrapping Harry tight in the fabric and keeping him still with one arm.

After a while the tremors subsided and the tenseness flowed out of the younger werewolf's body. Fenrir moved his around enough to see Harry's face, reassured with the sleepy, content expression on his features. He caught sight of two new scars on the young man's chest and brushed aside the robe and blanket to see. Harry shivered when Fenrir placed a finger against the starburst on his left pectoral and made a small, uncomfortable sound.

"What spell did they use on you?" Fenrir asked. Harry opened his mouth to respond but only a ragged whisper emerged.

Snape swept into the room with a dark scowl as soon as he spotted Harry, "Potter, you are supposed to stay in bed. Madam Pomfrey has not had time to give you a full checkup and until she does … oh, nevermind, you never listen anyway. What is it this time?"

Harry pointed to his throat at the same time Fenrir said, "He had a panic attack a few minutes ago."

Harry looked none too pleased with that description but didn't try to say anything as Snape flicked his wand first at his throat then his head. A moment later a long strip of paper flew out of the tip and Snape frowned at it.

"You did have a panic attack; your heart rate was dangerously accelerated and unstable. What triggered it?"

Harry shrugged then changed his mind, pointing to Fenrir. When the dark Potions master turned the glare to him Greyback protested, "I did nothing, Snape. I came down here a few hours ago and have been here since; Harry was asleep when I left him."

Harry nodded emphatically to this and Snape raised an eyebrow. He stepped back a moment, crossing his arms and considering the young man, which eventually made Harry start to squirm uncomfortably.

"How many times did they try, Potter?" Snape asked almost gently, when Harry had become so uneasy he turned and huddled against Fenrir again. After a moment Harry held up three fingers and Snape sighed. "Fantastic. Unfortunately, his throat will have to heal on its own, there's too much silver still ingrained in his system for any potions to work against the damage. He many not be able to speak normally again. I will consult with Pomfrey on the panic attacks – in the meantime, Greyback, do not leave him alone unless you must. In which case, you should probably make sure he is sedated." Snape rubbed his nose with a huff of irritation, "This is going to put a hex in Lord Voldemort's plans for the school."

Harry glanced at him curiously.

"He hasn't been told?" Snape demanded.

"There wasn't time before the raid on the Weasleys was ordered," Remus said.

"Nevermind that now," Fenrir snapped at both of them. "When can Pomfrey see him?"

"Get him back to bed and I'll let her know he's awake," said Severus as he turned and headed for the door, "Get some food in him, too."

Dobby, who had been silently listening in the background, popped away at this order. Fenrir nodded for Remus to follow him and stood, lifting Harry with him. The smaller werewolf made a protesting sound, pointed to the ground with a slight frown, obviously asking to walk on his own.

"No," Greyback said without even a bit of softness in his voice. "You were practically falling down when you came down here – did you eat or drink anything earlier?"

Harry shook his head, making a gagging noise. He relaxed after a moment, peering over Fenrir's shoulder to smile at Remus. The older werewolf returned the smile but he was looking concerned again.

"Harry, what did Snape mean when he asked you earlier? Who tried what?"

Green eyes lowered for a moment before glancing at Fenrir. The alpha returned the glance, just as curious as Remus. They arrived at the bedroom before Harry could figure out how to answer them without his voice. He shrugged the bathrobe off his shoulders once Fenrir put him on the bed and pointed to the scars on his chest and then the one on his elbow.

Both older werewolves sniffed at the cut on his elbow and recoiled. It stunk of silver.

"So the order to execute wasn't a bluff," Remus said, taking the chair by the fire. "Is … that's what the scars are? They tried a spell, didn't they?"

Harry pointed to his forehead, then his chest and nodded.

Fenrir growled, swinging his fist against the bedpost, which snapped in half like a twig. "Twice!"

Harry nodded, looking away; Dobby popped into the room then with some food and the youngest werewolf turned green at the scent. Remus gasped, drawing everyone's attention, before he stood up and nudged Fenrir toward the bed.

"Sit with him, he won't be able to eat without you." said Remus, gesturing for Dobby to set the tray on the bed once Greyback, curious, had taken a seat beside Harry. He glanced at Lupin for an explanation.

"So you've figured this out, wise one?"

Remus nodded, "Harry's experiencing a magical and mental dependence. As Severus said, the Ministry tried three times to kill him, but it never worked. I'm guessing from your state yesterday that they also stopped feeding you," he watched as Harry shook his head with a sad look in his brown eyes, "or Coyote kept you from eating anything." When the dark-haired werewolf nodded, Remus finished. "Being a werewolf is the only thing that kept him alive … but he still wasn't safe. You need your pack close to keep it from happening again."

Fenrir frowned, "There's hardly any chance of danger again, now that the Ministry is destroyed."

"It may take a while for that to settle in," Remus said gently. "One of us should be with Harry at all times until he feels safe enough to move on his own."

Harry picked at the bread and cheese he had been given. He cleared his throat and whispered, "Sorry."

Fenrir stared at his bent head for a long time before he slid an arm around Harry and held him close briefly. "Eat. Remus will stay here, I need to speak with the Dark Lord."

Harry nodded but he was trembling again. Remus nodded to the stern glance Fenrir gave him and climbed onto the bed, surrounding Harry with his arms and legs. The shaking increased a moment when Greyback left the room and Remus started rocking him, "He'll be back, Harry. Try to relax, we're not leaving you, try to eat something more."

Harry nodded and kept at the roll but only managed to eat half of it and a bit of cheese before his stomach started rebelling and he had to stop. He put his head down and drifted in and out, trying to control his own anxiety and not having much luck even though it was better with Remus there. The man's scent was familiar and he didn't demand anything from Harry.

They both jerked to attention when someone knocked and opened the door quickly. Madam Pomfrey bustled in, smiling at two of her most-frequent patients since she had been assigned to Hogwarts, and brought her bag over to the bedside table.

"I understand there has been more damage to your voicebox, Harry?" she pulled out a vial and turned to find Harry visibly shaking and hiding his face against Remus' shoulder.

"Panic attack," the older man said, his own emotions affected by the wild swing of Harry's. He was both relieved and disappointed when Pomfrey immobilized Harry and gave him a calming potion forcefully. The younger werewolf went unconscious almost instantly.

"Poor dear," she sighed, before waving Remus away. "You can't be in contact with him for a diagnosis spell to work, Remus. This is his second attack?"

"Since waking an hour ago," he said. He watched as the nurse ran her wand over Harry, muttering spells, jotting something down on a parchment with her free hand. She tsked and muttered, barely sparing a glance at the door when Fenrir returned.

"He's gotten worse?" the alpha demanded when he saw Harry asleep and the medi-witch treating him. Remus nodded and joined the bigger man by the door.

"I can't stay with him for long; he barely ate and had another attack when Pomfrey arrived."

Fenrir turned a fierce amber glare on the shorter man, "I thought you said he would be fine as long as one of us was with him."

"He'll manage, but he won't feel safe. He needs you – you're his mate, you're the alpha. I know this isn't what you want to hear but Harry may need to go with you day and night for a while."

"Don't assume you know what I do and don't want," Greyback snapped. "What did she give him?"

"Just a calming potion, but she immobilized him to do it."

Greyback grunted, "Lord Voldemort wants to speak to you; I'll send an elf if you need to stay with Harry for any reason."

Remus nodded to his alpha's order and left without saying anything more. Pomfrey didn't pay any attention to Fenrir as she continued to work, leaving him to take the seat next to the fire and wait.

She glanced over her notes once more before Ennervating Harry. He was groggy for a moment before recognizing Pomfrey.

"Madam?"

"Hello again, Harry. I'm afraid Severus was right about the silver in your system, it will take some difficult treatment to flush it out and your voice will have to wait. In the meantime, you shouldn't be out of bed for more than a few hours, and don't tax yourself! Take it easy, no running and absolutely no spellwork. I'll be sending along nutritive potions and I've instructed the house elves on your meals … for now, try several small meals instead of larger portions. Sleep as often as you feel you need to and don't hesitate to call for me if anything else is needed. All right?"

He nodded but didn't look at her, trying once again to keep his emotions in check. When the medi-witch was packing up her things Harry felt the bed dip and jumped in alarm. He immediately relaxed to see Fenrir there, pulling back the blankets so he could slide both of them underneath.

Pomfrey gave them a small grin before she left a line of nutritive potions on the table and bustled out. Harry grimaced at the plate Fenrir picked up from the table but he could hardly protest when his mate started feeding him slices of apple and cheese. It made him nauseous again but this time Fenrir knew to hold his hand over Harry's stomach to soothe him once the plate was empty. The younger werewolf blinked up at him drowsily, hands reflexively clenching, still too pale and thin from his imprisonment.

Fenrir slid down in the bed and tugged Harry to lie on top of him; his mate made a satisfied sound and melted against his chest.

Harry stared at the classroom in front of him with something close to wonderment. He still had trouble believing he was going to be teaching Charms to a bunch of students, even if he had known about it for close to three months. In front of him a cluster of desks waited for his first class; the room was mostly bare, just the desks, his larger desk, boxes of supplies and a large blackboard in the front.

The first thing he had done once he learned the Charms position was his, was to learn a spell that would put words on the blackboard for him. His voice worked now, but he could barely speak above a whisper – it frustrated Harry to no end. The only ones he could talk to regularly were Remus and Fenrir whose sharp ears could pick up his low voice, and Voldemort, since Parseltongue didn't rely on his voicebox.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. His throat was sore at the moment and his arse was aching. He'd been nervous enough before to cause some accidental magic, so Fenrir had fucked him until he could barely think straight, much less worry about his classes. Harry knew he wouldn't be doing any sitting for a while and a tiny smile crossed his face at the thought.

He couldn't help the feelings he had toward Fenrir; the man had been unexpectedly patient with him, not batting an eye when Harry couldn't even let him out of sight to shower or attend meetings with the Dark Lord. Harry was much better now but he hated going long periods without seeing the alpha … already he was feeling a bit twitchy. It was nearing noon and his last sight of Fenrir had been after breakfast.

It had been the alpha's decision to have Remus assigned as the ambassador to werewolves for Lord Voldemort. Originally it had been Greyback's position but he had suggested Lupin instead and remained in the castle while the younger werewolf was sent across the country and to the larger werewolf communes on the Continent. Harry had tried asking why but whenever he did, Fenrir would just smirk, run a hand over the scar on Harry's shoulder, and put his thoughts to more pleasurable pursuits.

Harry forcefully reminded himself that his students would be arriving in a few minutes and this was not the time to be thinking about that. He was being started out with first-year students, Muggle-borns who had spent the last month going through orientation classes once they accepted the invitation to the school. His oldest students would be fifteen – once they took their O.W.L.s they would be considered graduates and could return to their homes or immediately get jobs. Only those who were good enough for Hogwarts would continue their education.

Most of the students already recognized Harry, as he had helped set up the dormitories and had arranged some of the orientation sessions, remembering what it was like to be a child entering the wizarding world without a clue as to the true depth and history. He had been upset to see some of the children were barely out of diapers … some of the first products of the altered Book of Names Saffric the Scribe had finished.

The Book identified all children powerful enough to be given an invitation to Hogwarts. The Muggle-borns' locations were pulled as soon as their names showed up in the book – that is, as soon as they manifested their magic in some way – and the children were taken from their families. They were oriented to their new world for a month or more, then sent to be fostered with a family that was at least half-magical until they were of age for school. Harry hated this part of Voldemort's plan but he could do nothing about it.

When he had confronted the Dark Lord, Voldemort had been surprisingly calm about it. Indeed, since the Ministry had been replaced with the Dark Order, Voldemort was almost always more content and slower to anger. He had looked at Harry and smiled in a weird way, then explained.

"This is the future I want, Harry. I never want to see a magical child grow up the way you or I did … and this is how that is going to be done. I don't need your agreement, nor your cooperation, so you can save your energy on protests. Remember that there was a time I would have gladly sent all Mudbloods right back to their creator … at least this way they will be allowed to live and learn magic. And you're going to teach them, of course. You're going to help mold them into the first-generation purebloods they could become…. Keep that in mind."

And Harry had. Voldemort's vision of the world wasn't as bad as he had once feared – oh, it was still full of prejudice and greater privilege for the wealthy and powerful, but it could have been much, much worse. Harry had realized that early on, and he knew he did have a chance to help these children learn magic so that they would know the true magic of being a wizard. If he had to turn his head and ignore some of the darker magic being taught at Hogwarts or what was happening to the small pockets of resistance in the larger world, he could do that for the sake of making the future better for these kids.

He even had an opportunity beyond that; Remus had sent several Muggle-born children back from Ireland and Germany who were too young to go to school, but they had been bitten by werewolves early in life. Fenrir had taken them into the small pack and it was as close as Harry would get to being a parent, even if the cubs were fostered to the entire pack … they were still cubs, he was still the alpha's mate, and it was a chance to make a huge difference in their lives.

He was drawn out of his thoughts as the door opened and Fenrir stepped in, ushering his first class into the room. The big werewolf, ignoring the frightened looks some of the children were giving him, smirked at Harry and took a seat in the back.

His presence calmed Harry enough that he was able to take a deep breath and smile. He tapped the board with his wand.

Wingardium Leviosa

The Levitation Charm