Teeth

by hathanhate

Harry messes up the animagus process and begins a new journey. New friends and old share his discovery of life. What is in store for The-Boy-Who-Lived? What dangers will he face? Find out inside! WARNINGS: Begins entirely in HP world, crossover starts later. Harry is bisexual. Rated M to be safe.

41. Part Five, Chapter Five

THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH! YOU ARE ALL AWESOME!

Ok, so I know the update was supposed to be yesterday, but the fact of the matter is I didn't have a free moment until just now. I've started babysitting my cousin during the week again (I had stopped for awhile), and you can't leave a two year old unsupervised for more than a minute or so without facing a small-scale disaster.

So! I have decided the updates will be on every other Saturday, instead of Friday! Because that is much easier for me to manage.

To make up for it though, at over 10,000 words (even without my author notes), this is a fairly longer chapter than usual (we're normally between 7000 and 8000 words). It reads similarly to the time while Harry was in school, where you're getting scenes here and there, with some knowledge as to what's happening in between. Most of this part will be set up the same way, because you don't really need all the details, and that would drag on too much before the events of Thor 2 take place.

All the same, here you go.

Enjoy.

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Beneath his glamours, Harry's tail, long and sleek, and finned near the end, twitched back and forth near the tip with irritation. His clawed toes made deep scratches in the leather inside his boots and the claws tipping his fingers flexed out and in slightly with the urge to hurt something. His tongue, black in color behind the illusions, pressed hard against the roof of his mouth as he swallowed his words.

In his own way, he revelled in his anger, bathed in the irritation like a violent waterfall. Those handful of days where Tom had taken it away from him had been harder than he would like to admit, and even with the looming threat of losing control hanging over him, he was pleased at every reminder that he had his emotions back (or most of them, anyways, he still couldn't seem to feel much fear, though he had come closer to it lately, so maybe whatever the Alu did was wearing off).

The snake in question was settled near his feet, trailing after him along his belly, as Harry was unwilling to even consider allowing him a place on his shoulders like he had given Metis. Tom had been mostly silent since ending up alive again, not speaking to Harry unless needed, and keeping himself out of sight as much as possible. Harry knew he wasn't doing it because he liked it that way (the old Voldemort had liked to monolouge too much for the new and improved Tom to be so naturally quiet), but rather it was because he knew Harry was still very unhappy with the situation, to put it lightly.

And he likely suspected that the animagus had been seriously considering slicing him open and ripping out whatever snaky bits made him tick. The only thing really stopping him at the moment, in fact, was knowing that, changed or not, the body itself belonged to Metis, and so he couldn't bear doing such a thing. Well that, and the apology and thanks Tom had given him back in the white world. They had felt genuine, though his own verbal acceptance of them both had not quite reached the same level of sincerity.

But it wasn't his fault, not really. Harry was convinced enough that he was changed (no matter her apparent inhumanity, he doubted Hel would have returned him to life if he was still a sadistic megalomaniac) not to hate him. Not really. And it wasn't as though he had asked to be brought back and have his soul put inside a snake (or at least, Harry was given the impression that he hadn't); he wasn't really responsible for Metis' death. Harry knew all that, logically.

But that didn't make him dislike the man/snake any less.

As it was, he did his best to ignore the black serpent and instead focus on what was currently pissing him off.

Loki.

The thrice-damned trickster had, at some point, and without him even noticing, managed to place some sort of a compulsion spell on him in an attempt to get him to keep quiet about his innocence. He'd broken it, after studying the thin green mental threads long enough to determine it was meant more to keep him from telling Thor or any other Asgardian than anyone else; it didn't seem to work so hard when faced with him spilling the beans to a human (which explained how easy it had been to share the secret with Logan and the twins, and tony, and his father), and it seemed weakly cast, which made him think Loki had managed it that moment after the battle (when he and the Avengers came up to the tower to bind and carry him off) without using a focus; a brand of magic that was extremely difficult with most spells.

Harry supposed he was an easy mark for compulsion spells. After all, they didn't work quite the same as mind magics or control did, so he couldn't break it automatically; and he was less likely to notice a compulsion, first because they were more subtle, and also because he had only ever been under a compulsion once.

Though, in his opinion, a truth compulsion in a magical social worker's office was far more benign than Loki's machinations.

And Harry, to begin with, didn't care to have his actions manipulated in any way at all.

Hence the anger, and the nervous guard leading him down to the dungeons; perhaps it was even the same guard who had first led him to their rooms. Harry felt a little bad for the guards, really. He had been in an almost constantly foul mood since coming here, so they likely thought him naturally bad tempered, and every one of them seemed wary of him; if not because of his bad moods, than likely because of his status as Niflheim's King. It was, afterall, the Underworld. They probably thought he was some dark and scary villain out to kill them all and hoard away their souls to eat with a nice glass of wine while sitting in some dark dreary room in his castle.

He almost pitied them for not realizing it was essentially an empty title.

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The dungeons were not done up in the same beautiful gold and marble that was prevalent in the rest of the Asgardian palace; instead, they were built mostly of stone. Each cell had walls of glass framed by thick stone pillars, and what looked like thin stips of golden lighting around the edge of said glass (but which, with closer observation, proved to be lines of glowing runes, showing Harry that, unlike the ones Shield had, these cells were plenty effective enough to contain a person of magic). The floors of the cells were raised up a foot or so from the floor of the hallway, and so all their inhabitants were above him slightly (which was a little disconcerting, considering that Harry was shorter than most of the prisoners even without the floor-height difference). The various prisoners, many of various species that Harry had never seen before (they were bona-fide inhuman aliens for Merlin's sake!), looked well-cared for, for prisoners. Their beds were nice enough, and they had books available to them.

Loki's cell, when they arrived at it, was slightly nicer than the others. Aside from having it all to himself, it had a larger bed than the rest, a chair and footrest, a table to eat at, and another, smaller one with an hourglass on it. There was a large fur laid out in one corner, and a few stacks of books sitting near it; more than the other prisoners seemed to have. Harry wasn't sure how to feel about all that, and wondered if Odin had given him a nicer cell than the other prisoners because Loki was his son, and he loved and favored him, or because Loki was a prince and so it was just expected for him to be treated better.

The god himself was sitting at his table, eating. He looked up when, after the guard went to stand by the wall, Harry approached. There was a twitch near his eyes, a small flash of surprise on his face, and then it was gone. He half-smiled at Harry and put his spoon down (he was eating some sort of stew).

"I was not expecting you." He said simply. Harry didn't answer right away. Tom slithered past him and up a wall intent on curling around one of the stone bits near the ceiling that stuck out a little. Loki's eyes followed him a moment, the space between his eyes creasing slightly (as though the sight of a snake was puzzling, and Harry supposed it probably was, after all, snakes were not typically the sort of pet to follow you around like a dog), and then he turned his attention back on Harry. "Would you mind terribly if I finish my supper before we speak?"

"Go ahead." The wizard's voice was polite, but cold with his anger, and Loki frowned a bit before going back to eating; taking bites a little more quickly than he had been before Harry's arrival. The animagus looked around. There was a rock near his feet; a small chipped off bit of the floor, and he picked it up, carefully transfigured it into a chair (it wasn't a very fancy one, and was a little stiffer than he had meant to make it), and sat down, crossing his legs and leaning back in a way that Lucius had taught him (it was a posture 'meant to feign nonchalance and make one look as though they had much better things to do than sit there'). The guards shifted uneasily at the sight of magic, reminding Harry how little privacy he and Loki were being given for these visits, but he did his best to ignore them; sitting in silence and studying the trickster while he ate. He absently thought that he had very good manners.

He considered what he would say, how he would tell Loki off for putting a compulsion on him, but then that little Slytherin side of himself rose up and made itself known, as was common in those moments where he was calm (or calm enough, at least) and able to think over his course of action. What would happen if he confronted the god? Loki would surely find out he had told Thor (and possibly become angered enough not to speak with him), the guards would find out he was susceptible to compulsions and could pass that information along to Odin (Mitera knows what he would do with that), and it would make him look even more short-tempered than he actually was (and thus incompetent, which could possibly bring his kingly status under question).

So what was he supposed to do? If he couldn't bring up the compulsion, then what sort of conversation were they to have?

He grit his teeth for a long moment, and then, grudgingly, poked at that dreaded connection in the depths of his mind.

'...Yes?' The hissing voice filled his mind hesitantly, cautiously, and he almost felt bad for how he had been treating Tom lately. He brushed the minor guilt aside, and focused on the task at hand.

'You're a better politician than I am.' He said factually, with no inflection of emotion in his 'voice'. 'What should I say to him? How am I supposed to do this?'

'That would depend on what your goals are.' He realized, belatedly, that Loki was not something he and Tom had talked about before now (not that they had spoken much at all of course, but, well-). Hadn't Hel told him anything? Still, he considered the question seriously, creating a mental list of everything he eventually hoped to gain from his conversations with Loki, and then he 'sent' it along to Tom.

1. Find out what would motivate Loki (controlled or otherwise) to take over the Earth.

2. Find out why Loki wanted to be locked up.

3. Find out what Loki knew about that strange fate-caused matching of their magic.

4. Find out if Loki knew about the life-debt (without telling him about it outright and spilling the beans if he didn't know).

5. Fulfill the life-debt.

6. Find out why Loki hates Odin so much.

7. FInd out why Loki hates Thor so much.

8. Help fix Loki's family problems.

9. Save Loki?

The list was rather pitiful, and badly structured, in Harry's opinion, as he didn't know where to begin. But Tom did, it seemed.

'Talk about your fight.'

'Pardon?'

'Talk about when you and Loki fought on Stark Tower. That's where you should start.'

'What about the fight?'

'Ask him how he got so good, how he got so fast. Ask him how he was able to bat your magic away. Ask him why he held back.' Apparently Tom knew more about that fight than he did about the current situation. Harry recalled what Sirius had told him about how they were only able to see certain things, with no real rhyme or reason to what, and put it (after a small second of suspicious hesitation) down to that.

He didn't really know how talking about the fight would get him anywhere, but he was inclined to take Tom's advice. It was, after all, as a good a place to begin as any, and he would be lying if he tried to claim that Loki's skill in battle (even holding back as much as Harry knew he had been) didn't impress him greatly.

It wasn't long before the god finished his meal, whereupon he set his bowl to the side, wiped his face, and turned his chair a bit so he was facing Harry.

"Thank you for waiting." Harry dipped his head. "Now then, may I ask the purpose of your visit?" He was being rather formal, in Harry's opinion, but he went ahead regardless.

"I wanted to talk about our fight." The trickster's eyebrows raised in surprise. That apparently hadn't been the answer he had been expecting.

"Oh?"

"You're a lot better than me." He admitted, not at all ashamed of that. Loki was a god, after all, and had likely been alive and fighting long before he was even a thought, let alone born. The wizard had never been a particularly prideful person (well, he was about certain things, but for the most part-). The liesmith looked surprised again, and he frowned at Harry. "How did you get so skilled?" Loki didn't answer him right away, still frowning, and Harry wondered if Tom was right about this being the best place to begin.

"I have lived many years, and trained and fought nearly all of them. It's simply a matter of experience." Harry nodded at the expected answer. "Although, that green beast of yours is quite a bit stronger than I, if only physically." He shifted a little in his seat, brows scrunched, and Harry cocked his head to the side, holding back irritation at the 'beast' title because he didn't think Loki really meant it as an insult (he said it more like one would say something they thought was a fact, like a little kid calling their dog a hound, because if its breed, and thinking that's what species it was; not understanding it was a just a type of dog). The god didn't seem like the sort to willingly admit someone was better than him at something. It was strange.

"His name is Hulk." Harry told him. "He's part of Bruce, my brother." He stressed the familiar term, and Loki nodded cautiously.

"My apologies. Hulk, then." His lips turned down in distaste at the name, but he didn't sneer like Draco would have, so it was a start, and harry consciously made the decision to not take offense.

"Why did you hold back?" It was abrupt, but Tom had told him to ask, and for a moment the conversation had felt like it was getting ready to slip into one of those awkward silences Harry hated. Loki studied him for a few seconds before he responded. It wasn't like when Tony or Bruce would look at him like he was an experiment, or even like when Severus would look at him as though trying to ascertain something. It reminded him more of Lucius judging his worth. Loki reminded him of the Malfoys in a lot of ways, really. He supposed it must be one of those things about growing up in the privileged upper-class of society (although Thor was as far removed from the Malfoy's as a person could get, so maybe there was more to it than that).

"Because we... Match, you and I." There was a note of confusion in his voice, and, on a whim, Harry reached out with his magic. Tom had not told him to do this, but he had given him the place to start he asked for, and it wasn't as though the former Dark Lord had told him not to, or even as though Harry was bound to follow his every order anyways (it was, very much, the other way around). The wall of the cell felt like moving through syrup (he questioned if it was smart to do something like this), but it was only a moment before those invisible strings of watery energy encountered the icy blizzard that was Loki.

He shivered at the feeling as the god's magic rose up to meet his own, the two twining around each other like friends embracing one another after a long absence; water and ice, waves and snow, rain and hail, together. It made him excited and happy and at peace in a way he couldn't put into words, and the two of them sighed contently as one.

"You mean this?" Harry asked, smiling simply because he couldn't help but to do so (he had seen people act loopy after too many pain potions, and wondered if this was what that felt like). Loki hummed at him, smiling also.

"Yes." Then he frowned slightly. "I do not know... What it is, that causes this, but you and I were meant to meet, I think. In all my years, I have never experienced such a thing." He looked confused a little, and Harry could tell he didn't like admitting he didn't know something; and since he didn't know (since Harry didn't believe he was lying), that crossed number 3 off his mental list.

It was a start.

But then that left Harry and Hel (and Tom) as the only ones aware of some approaching disaster that he and Loki were meant to stop together; and Harry had no idea what to expect. Knowing that Loki was oblivious to the matter was disappointing, because it was one less source for Harry to try and figure out what was coming, especially as he didn't trust the god (or the observing guards) enough to bring it up.

His magic withered against Loki's in response to his emotions, and the god frowned at him, his own magic pushing up over Harry's as though to shelter him with a cave of ice and snow.

"What is it?"

"It's just, I've never... Encountered anything like this either, so I had hoped you knew. I don't like not knowing what's happening to me." Which reminded him, he needed to talk to the twins about Logan. His magic flared in irritation, twisting a little like an angry wave, and Loki chuckled, his own magic shaking against Harry's like a snow flurry, as though it was laughing too. He sighed and smiled again.

Then someone cleared their throat, and Harry pulled his magic sharply back, his body twitching, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar, feeling oddly guilty without comprehending why.

It was Thor, standing there looking awkward again.

"I..." He paused. "I had hoped to speak with my brother this day, but if I am interrupting..." He trailed off. Loki was frowning at him, but Harry stood, untransfiguring his chair and setting the rock chip on the small ledge near the glass of Loki's cell to use for next time.

"It's alright. Family comes first I think." He looked at the trickster, whose expression had gone a bit dark. "I'd like to visit you again tomorrow, if that's alright?"

"I could hardly stop you." The liesmith muttered irritably. Was he mad at Harry for allowing Thor to take his place?

"No, but it's a choice I can offer you. I won't come back if you don't want me to." That would suck, because then he wouldn't have any way of fulfilling his promise to Hel (which he still intended to to, no matter how angry he may be with her at the moment), but since Loki was in prison, he probably didn't have many ways to be in control of his own life anymore (it had been the only real thing besides the dementors that Sirius had once complained about), so letting him take the lead on if and when Harry would visit him was one of the few things the wizard could give him. The trickster stared at him for several seconds, looking thoughtful and, almost (but not quite), suspicious, and then he nodded slowly.

"You may visit again, if you wish to." He said it as though it were a burden to him to have Harry there, but the animagus caught the note of hope at the tail end of Loki's sentence, and smiled.

"I'll be here then." He dipped his head, nodded politely at Thor, and then one of the guards led him out, Tom slithering along behind him.

'That went well.' He wondered why Tom thought so, but he agreed.

'Yes. Yes it did.'

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Asgard, or at least its capital city wherein the palace lie (he was sure there were other cities out there, and perhaps even other countries, it was an entire planet, after all), was enormous. The palace itself, for that matter, was enormous. The building was taller than Hogwart's highest tower stacked upon itself three times, and as wide and long as a dozen world cup Quidditch pitches. As it were, he could probably spend years exploring Odin's home alone, and never manage to see even half the rooms.

But he was loathe to go wandering about the place without any certainty as to where he was and wasn't allowed to go. The city, on the other hand, was fair game, and Thor's invitation to accompany him to a market there, and then to lunch with the god's friends, was something he and his redheaded brothers had practically pounced on. It was a chance to get out of their rooms and do something interesting.

The only real drawback, for Harry, was Tom. The wizard-turned-snake had, almost shyly, asked if he might come with them, and the animagus, feeling rather guilty for reasons he wasn't entirely certain of, had agreed. That alone was not the problem. The problem, was that he could not realistically allow a serpent to follow after him on the ground in a crowded place and not expect him to get stepped on. He still wasn't willing to let him on his shoulders however. He wasn't about to allow what felt like a betrayal of Metis' memory.

So they had compromised.

Tom had wrapped himself snugly about Harry's waist, tangling himself a bit with the wizard's glamoured tail, and the extra weight on his hips, though not at all a burden, was disconcerting. His presence there felt like a chain, but he had brought his head up and was looking around, twisting this way and that with an almost childlike enthusiasm; and that was enough to keep Harry (no matter how uncomfortable he was) from completely regretting the choice to allow it.

All the same, he distracted himself by paying attention to the twins, and taking in the many sights around them himself.

The city was an odd combination of magic and science, old and new. The people wore robes and cloaks similar to what he had seen back in the wizarding world, except that the clothing here was of different cuts and styles. Some of the men wore leather or armour instead, and, he noted, a handful of women did as well. These people sometimes had a weapon of some sort strapped to them. He saw swords and daggers and warhammers at hips, large axes and bows with quivers on backs, knives on thighs, and spears in hands (being used casually like walking sticks).

The buildings of the city itself were varied, but similar. Some were short and square, some were domed, some were tall spires, others were oddly shaped like wings, or with semi-open roofs that looked like someone had taken a blanket, started to shake it out, and magically frozen it in place in the middle and turned it into metal. There were buildings the likes of which he had never seen on Earth, and buildings that looked like Old Norse longhouses or small cabins that were familiar enough to Midgardian architecture to put him at ease. Some of the buildings were built of sturdy grey stone, and/or oak-like wood, with tiled or thatched roofs, and others were constructs of metal (and glass) that varied in color from shiny dark gray, to patina-marked copper, to dull gold. It was a conglomeration of varied colors and materials and styles, like someone had taken two or three or four different culture's architecture and thrown them all into one city.

He thought it was amazing.

Even more amazing, though, was the way that the city and nature seemed blended together. Moss and vines attached to and hung off buildings. Trees and bushes grew out of giant pots that were everywhere (near buildings and on their roofs, and to the sides of the road), but there were also sections of ground that the road twisted around that had trees and bushes and grass as well. He saw flowers everywhere; growing in shades of red and blue and purple and yellow and white. A large river framed the side of the city, and there were hundreds of offshoots from it that ran through the city itself; he lost track of how many bridges they crossed over. In sections where the ground jutted sharply upwards, creating little cliffs (and where there were stairs to get around), small waterfalls came down into these tiny rivers. The people themselves seemed to utilize the waterways (the ones without waterfalls they might fall off of) for faster travel, floating through them in thin, long boats that he could compare to canal boats in Venice (he had seen pictures once on postcards in a gift shop in America once, and Severus, who had been there once for some sort of potion master's conference, had told him about it when he asked), but of a slightly different shape, and with twisting knotworks and purely decorative elder-futhark carved into the sides.

The bifrost bridge cut through the center of it all, vibrantly glowing with moving colors of every shade. He could see workers at one end of it, though he couldn't make out what they were doing. It led straight up to the palace, which looked even larger from the outside, and towered over everything; like a looming guardian of gold, watching over the city and its people. It looked like a giant pyramid made of hundreds of massive organ pipes of sizes that grew progressively smaller the further from the center they were.

He followed after Thor, a redhead on either side of him, each with an arm thrown over his shoulders, expressions of awe on all three of their faces. The thunderer looked back at them and grinned.

"It is beautiful, is it not?" He called back to them. Harry grinned broadly, but it was George who first answered.

"It's fantastic!" Thor laughed were going upwards now, the city having been built over several hills, and its altitude changing based on location as the city bowed to nature's dips and rises (they had made no attempt to circumvent nature and flatten the land, as was often the case back with big cities on Earth). Harry could make out huge mountains in the distance behind the palace, and the large river near the bifrost let out into either a very large lake, or perhaps the sea, on the other side.

"Aye." Thor said with a grin. "Asgard is a thing of beauty." He looked a little sad though, and Harry made a guess.

"Miss Earth?" The god's smile faded a bit.

"I do yes, and Jane most of all."

"Jane?" Fred questioned, a sort of playful leer on his face. "Got yourself a mortal woman have you?"

"For shame!" George waggled a finger at him, trying, and failing, to look stern, and he laughed.

"Stop it you two." He popped them both on the back of their heads and they made identical sounds of indignation; startling another laugh out of Thor. Harry ducked out of his brothers' arms and trotted up to walk beside the god.

"So who is she?" He asked kindly, genuinely curious.

"Jane Foster. She is an astrophysicist."

"That's a type of scientist, right?" He asked, a little uncertain.

"Aye. She studies the the universe."

"A space scientist?" George asked, grinning. "She must be smart then."

"But is she cute to boot?" Fred interjected.

"Cute?" The god questioned.

"Is she pretty?" Harry explained, rolling his eyes at the twins.

"Ah." His face softened. "She is very beautiful, yes." His expression was gentle, happy, and melancholic all at once, and Harry smiled at him, thinking he must love the woman quite a bit. The twins stopped teasing him, seeming to decide they should leave that subject alone now.

"So where are we going?" Fred changed the subject after a moment. The thunderer shook himself from his thoughts.

"The clothing market. I thought perhaps you three might like some proper Asgardian dress." Harry blinked, surprised, and then frowned.

"Thor-" Something in his tone made the god stop walking. "We don't have money for that sort of thing, or, at least not Asgardian currency. We can't pay for-" The god waved a hand dismissively.

"You are my friends, and my guests. I would have you call such purchases gifts from I to you." Then he paused. "And if you would wish to repay me, then perhaps when we are given leave to return to Midgard, you can take me to your 'wizarding world' and buy me clothes from the market there." The animagus could tell from his tone that he wouldn't be argued with, so instead he nodded, and made plans to convince his father they should make a trip to Vegas when they got back.

The underground shopping district there was large and varied enough for them to find just about anything the thunderer might want.

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Harry fell into bed later that evening with a groan. He heard a chuckle, and looked up to find Muhammad leaning against the doorway with a smirk on his face. Screw him. The smug bastard had gone and hidden somewhere when he realized Thor was inviting them out, so he hadn't had to go.

Of course, Harry was sure that he had snuck out into the city on his own at some point, and he was equally sure that the Arab would never wear anything other than what he wanted to wear, so taking him clothes shopping would have been all but useless.

"Reh mit." He hissed at him in Arabic (one tended to learn their foreign insults with Moo around), burying his face back in his bed. Moo chuckled again, and a moment later the bed dipped as he sat down.

"No need to get nasty."

"Shut up." He snickered this time, and Harry felt him shift. When he looked up again, the other male was laying back against the pillows, arms behind his head. Harry twisted a bit so he could use his hip as a pillow, and pulled his band off at the same time, revelling in the free feeling it gave him to be able to be himself and uncurl his tail. The long appendage flopped over Moo's legs, and waved lazily back and forth.

"So-"

"Hmm?"

"What are his friends like?"

"They're... An odd bunch."

"Oh?" He wondered a little why Muhammad cared, but shrugged and went on.

"Well, there's four of them. Sif, Volstagg, Hogun, and... Fandral." Moo caught his hesitation.

"Is there something wrong with Fandral?"

"No. It's just..." He floundered, not quite sure how to explain the strange conversation that had come up near the end of lunch. Moo's hand settled on his head, twisting into his hair a little.

"Did he do something to you?" There was a warning there.

"No. He just confused me, that's all."

"How so?"

"He said I was strange for wanting to be chaste." Muhammad's hand stopped moving.

"So? That's your business isn't it?"

"But that's just the thing." He looked up at him, and Moo adjusted himself so his head was supported enough to meet the animagus' gaze. "I never said anything of the sort, and, I mean, I suppose that I have been chaste, but it's not that I think I should be, it's just I haven't been interested. He just brought it up out of nowhere. Sif had gone, and they were talking about women, and he said he could never understand why some warriors would choose to be abstinent, because he didn't think it actually made you a better fighter, and he asked me why I did it, and I got confused. We were interrupted and Thor said it was time to go back right after that, so I never had the chance to ask him what he was talking about, or how he knew that I, er, that I've never-" He waved a hand helplessly. Muhammad sat up, staring at him strangely.

"He probably knew because of the chastity charm you always wear."

"Chastity charm?" His forehead scrunched in confusion. "What are you talking about?" Muhammad's brows rose on his head, and then, abruptly, he smirked, spluttered, fell back, and started laughing a humorous full-belly laugh that made nearly the entire bed shake alongside his mirth. Harry sat up on the bed, certain he had lost his mind. Then he quickly grew annoyed, and smacked the Arab's stomach, making him let out an 'oof' noise, and stop laughing (he was grinning widely still though). "You wanna explain what's so funny?" He demanded irritably.

"What's so funny, is that you've apparently been wearing a chastity charm without knowing it for well over a year, and me and ol' Sev just figured it was your way of saying you're not looking to settle down for a while."

"Wha-" Moo leaned a hand up, and grabbed one of his necklaces, pulling the pendant of it up.

"I mean this. It has a chastity charm on it." It was the jade circle that old Chinese woman had given him. He grasped it. He had known, of course, that there was some sort of mild magic embedded in the stone, but he had never worked out what it was, or tried to beyond making sure it wouldn't harm him. There had been no need, and protection charms and talismans were so common in Asia (everyone and their mother had more than one), he had just assumed it was something similar.

"She said it was to teach me humility." He mumbled, and Moo snorted.

"Yea well, it's a chastity charm."

"So, what, it keeps me from being able to, er, have sex?" He felt embarrassed at saying the word, and felt a bit like a prude for it. How many raunchy dorm-room-conversations had he heard on the subject? Between Ron, who used to think anything with big tits was attractive, and Seamus, who had slept with what seemed like half the school (male AND female)?

"It keeps you from being able to feel aroused, or sexually attracted to anyone. Have you not noticed that you haven't gotten any wet dreams or hard-ons since you've had it?" Harry flushed with embarrassment at the conversation, and pitifully muttered:

"I thought that was a normal part of finishing puberty for me. Everyone's a little different so I just thought..."

"Seriously? Maybe if you were asexual or something but hell. Who the fuck taught you that?" He shifted, and didn't answer. Muhammad's smile faded some. "Didn't someone give you the whole 'birds-and-the-bees- talk'?" He shook his head, and then bristled, expecting Moo to make fun of him, as he was wont to do. But the Arab was frowning. "You're serious? Twenty years old and no one has ever explained any of it to you? How the hell did you survive puberty without having a panic-attack?"

"I sort of had bigger things on my mind." He snapped. Moo paused, and Harry looked down. They didn't talk about the war, and Voldemort, very often; mainly because Harry was quite happy to forget it all and keep it in the past where it belonged. That was part of the reason why Tom's presence upset him so much. It wasn't the only reason of course, but-

"Right." He didn't apologize, but Harry hadn't expected him to. "Well, I guess you need to decide if you want to take that off or not." He motioned to the jade pendant, that Harry still had clasped in one hand. Harry looked at it, considering. He hadn't been able to feel those sorts of things because of it, but it wasn't like he had missed them. He had once had a short, very one-sided crush on Cho Chang that had stopped about the same time she had turned away from the DA when given the knowledge that Slytherins would be part of it. After that he had been so focused on the war that romance had been the furthest thing from his mind, and by the time he had just started to get comfortable in his own skin while they were travelling, the old woman had given it to him. He had never had sex, never been touched intimately, hell, he had never even kissed anyone on the lips; the closest he'd come being when his mother kissed his head in the white world, or when he and Hermione were still friends and she would (very rarely) kiss his cheek when she hugged him (and neither of those things were at all the same as something like this).

As for now, well, you couldn't really miss something you had never had, and despite the mild flare of irritation at finding his life had been manipulated (only one of a million times) again, it didn't really bother him. Things were probably going to get crazy again soon, given the bond with Loki and what it implied, but right now, things were calm. He wasn't really looking for romance, but it wouldn't do any harm to at least take the thing off, and, if nothing else, get an idea of what sorts of things he found attractive beyond an aesthetic view.

Besides, he could always put it back on later. After all, he had taken it off during the battle in New York, and put it on afterwards, and it was apparently still functioning. He pulled it over his head, feeling no different with it off than he had with it on. He stuffed it away in a pocket and looked up at Muhammad, who had an odd look on his face.

"What?" The other male shook his head.

"It's nothing." Then he shifted on the bed so his legs were crossed. "But now you need someone to give you the 'talk'." Harry blushed again and grimaced. "Since Sev's not here, I could do it, or the twins could, if you think they'd take it seriously."

"Would you take it seriously?" He shot back.

"Yes." And his face was serious. His voice softened. "I wouldn't mess around with this sort of thing Harry. It's too important for you to understand what you could be getting yourself into." He rarely used the animagus' name, and that calmed him somewhat, making him nod and feel a little guilty at his expectations.

"Alright." He said quietly. Moo watched him for a moment, and then seemed to make a decision.

"Why don't you tell me what you do know?" The non-scaled parts of Harry's face were so red he looked like a spotted tomato.

"Er, well, I mean, the guys back at Hogwarts talked about it sometimes, and, um, you've talked about it before too, a little. I, uh-" Moo sighed.

"How about we just start with the basics?" Harry nodded, but didn't look at him. "Okay. Well to start with, you could really have sex with anyone you wanted, woman or man, if they're willing, but you need to make sure you're safe about it, and you need to understand the mechanics of how it all-"

He had never been so embarrassed in his life, and after that night he wasn't able to look Moo in the eye without reddening for several days.

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Aside from the odd half-conversation with Fandral, and the subsequent revelations, Harry did actually like him. Volstagg reminded him of the portrait of Godric Gryffindor in the entry hall of Hogwarts, a big man with a beer-gut, and a wild mane and beard of red hair. He was loud and cheerful, and as obsessed with food as Ron had been. Hogun had a more Asian-looking appearance, and a more reserved personality. He had been a bit formal with Harry, but kind, and polite. Fandral was a handsome and charismatic blond who seemed intent on flirting with every female server who had come up to their table, but he hadn't dared do so with the female of the group, and he has had a good sense of humor. Lady Sif was a very beautiful black-haired, mostly no-nonsense, type of woman, who, like, Hogun, had been a bit reserved around him, but had still been willing to chat plainly and joke with her companions whilst he was there. They were all vastly different in personality and manner, but he had liked them, and was looking forward to seeing them again.

At their next visit, he told Loki so. It was the fourth time they had met by now. Their second visit had been a little stiff, like the first, but the ice had been broken when Loki suddenly asked him what spell he had been using that let him grab the god with an invisible hand (it had been his tail of course, not a spell, but he didn't know that), and Harry, with a mischievous grin, had told him he would just have to figure it out on his own. Far from taking offense, the trickster had laughed. Their third meeting had, as a result, gone much more smoothly, with the god asking questions about the wizarding side of Midgard (Do you really use wands? Why the cloaks, why don't they wear proper fighting dress? What sorts of foods are there?), and Harry, in turn, asking questions about Asgard (Why is everything gold? What sorts of magic do people practice here? What do you know about runes? Are they used often here?). They were relatively neutral, impersonal questions that had helped to make them both more at ease with one another.

The moment he mentioned Thor's friends, he wished that he hadn't. Loki's face closed off from its open, pleased expression, and he scowled.

"Those witless uncultured swine? You actually enjoy their overbearing company?" Harry frowned, leaning back in his chair. It had been there when he arrived the third time, and again this time, so he hadn't had to transfigure it. He didn't know if it was there on Odin's orders, or because the guards didn't want him using magic down here anymore, but he'd been thankful for it (it was much more comfortable than his hard imperfectly transfigured seat had been). Loki sat cross-legged on the floor of his cell, near the glass, in a courteous attempt at putting them closer to eye-level.

"So far, yes." He answered honestly. "They have given me no reason not to." Loki snorted. "But I will not speak of them to you, if you would rather I didn't. Though I will ask you not to insult them in front of me." The trickster frowned then, looking at him almost thoughtfully.

"And would you ask them not to insult me in front of you?"

"Of course." He frowned. "Why wouldn't I?" Loki was staring at him, studying him with narrowed eyes, and then, suddenly, he looked away, an odd expression on his face.

"Very well then." He said quietly. He looked lost in thought for a moment, before shaking his head, and looking back at him. "You said... Thor bought you clothing. I think perhaps you should wear them. He would be... upset if he found you dislike his gifts." Harry flushed, he had worn jeans and his leather jacket today, a dark, nondescript shirt beneath it (and his thin armor on under it all of course); his usual sort of attire. He was more comfortable like this, and also-

"Some of the clothes he got me are a bit... Confusing." He blushed. They were more complicated than he was used to, some had several straps (enough that it was hard to tell where they all went), and others were shaped oddly. There were simple things mixed in, but still, he wasn't sure how to go about putting everything on, and the twins were just as puzzled as he was, so they had not yet worn anything Thor bought for them. Loki rolled his eyes.

"Guard!" He called, catching the attention of the men lining one of the walls. "If one of you would be so kind, see that the dresser is sent to his quarters this evening." The guards shifted uncertainly, as though not willing to take orders from a prisoner, but having heard the conversation, one of them nodded.

"I'll let her know." Loki nodded, looking pleased.

"There, now you'll have someone to teach you." The smug, almost vile grin he gave Harry made the wizard certain he wouldn't enjoy this.

It was probably revenge for getting along with Thor's friends.

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It was definitely revenge, he decided later.

The dresser was a small, spindly old woman with wispy brown hair and hard hands. She started with Harry, practically stripping him nude before he could stop her, and then proceeding to tug various bits, and combinations, of clothing on and off of him while snapping at him to pay attention to what she was doing so he could do it himself. She pulled and pushed him around, pinched and did the straps too tight, and threatened to assign a permanent dresser to put his clothes on him each day if he couldn't learn to do it properly.

He was mortified.

As if having some old lady see him in his knickers wasn't bad enough, it was a battle to keep his tail from being squashed or noticed by her. He was never more thankful for that spell his father had found that let his tail pass through clothing like a ghost, or, for that matter, for his deep enough familiarity with said spell to be able to cast it silently (it was meant to be used so that he wouldn't have to cut holes in all his bottoms). On top of it all, Muhammad and the twins were there to witness his humiliation, and were practically rolling with laughter at his expense.

The twins at least, he vindictively noted, got theirs. Once she was done with him (and had forced him to put on three outfits all on his own to prove he had learned), she set her sights on those two, and Fred quickly became her second victim.

He had only ever seen the bright Weasley blush on Ron, Percy, and Ginny, and he was pleased to finally have the mystery solved.

That blush did go all the way down.

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The second time he saw Thor's friends didn't start out how he had expected it to. Thor had invited the four of them to lunch, and while the twins had chosen to pass, wandering off into the palace (to cause some sort of mayhem, Harry was sure, as they had been strangely well behaved thus far), Harry and Moo accepted the invitation; the former because he was actually looking forward to it, the latter for nothing more than a free meal. Tom stayed behind.

Everything was fine when they first arrived. The warrior's three (as he had heard them called) were all sitting at a table in what Harry thought might be Thor's quarters (or perhaps just a small meal room?) laughing about something or other. He, Muhammad, and Thor all sat down, and conversation came easily. Fandral patted him on the back for 'wising up' about how 'over-rated' chastity was (Harry wasn't really sure if he should take it as a compliment, or be offended), Hogun politely asked after his snake (he had been interested in Tom during the first meal), and Volstagg began a boisterous tale about his defeat of one of 'Níðhöggr's sons', which, after several moments, Harry realized was just what Volstagg called dragons.

"-was enormous! It towered over my head, easily as tall as the gate of Asgard itself-"

"That beast grows larger with every telling, Volstagg." A feminine voice had interrupted, and that was when Harry looked up to see that Sif had arrived.

And that was when everything changed.

He had thought before, that she was very beautiful, in a distant sort of way; like how a person thought a sunrise was beautiful, or the ocean, or a field of freshly fallen snow with no tracks in it. But as he laid his eyes on her this time, his heart beat a little faster, something in his stomach clenched, and he felt a sort of warmth inside him. Not immediately understanding, it took until she had gotten close to the table, and he found himself eyeing her body (she was several inches taller than him, and very fit, with arms and legs slightly more muscled than he was used to seeing on a woman, and a large bust with wide hips to match), that he realized what it was he was feeling.

He was attracted to her.

His face burned and he turned his gaze to the tabletop, eating a bit of the meat on his plate without really tasting it. When his eyes flicked upwards again, he found Fandral grinning knowingly at him, and he paled. There was a look to his eyes like the twins sometimes got before pulling a prank, and Harry tried to wordlessly plead with him to leave it alone.

He didn't.

"So, Harry," He began, interrupting Sif and Volstagg's banter. On Harry's right, Moo paused in his eating, and on his left, Thor glanced up, still chewing. "what sort of women do you like?" He narrowed his eyes at the man, cheeks still hot. Muhammad lowered his fork, his gaze moving between them as he tried to figure out what was going on, imstantly suspecting something was off. Thor and Hogun rolled their eyes almost simultaneously, the former returning to his food, and the latter taking a sip from his cup.

"I don't see why it matters." Harry told him, doing his best to keep his voice neutral. Fandral's grin widened.

"Oh come now, you must have a type! Blondes? Redheads? Maybe women with darker hair?" His eyes flicked to Sif almost of their own accord.

"I don't have a type." Not that he knew of, at any rate, small as his pool of experience was. For a small moment, he wondered how many of those women he had thought were aesthetically pleasing, would actually be physically attractive to him without the charm. He had thought that Storm and Romanoff were both very beautiful women, for instance. Of course, going by his aesthetic interests, there were quite a few men he had thought of as handsome. Logan came to mind, Tony and the Captain both, Loki too, actually, and Thor (why was everyone so good-looking? it almost made him feel inadequate), though he had been around the last two since taking the pendant off, and hadn't felt anything. Maybe he only liked women? He had no way of knowing for sure, not right now; not with such a pitiful level of experience. The thought of being with a man didn't disgust him, just made him feel odd. But then, the thought of being with anyone at all made him feel odd.

"Everyone has a type." Fandral said, and opened his mouth to say more, only for Sif to swat the blond man in the arm.

"Stop teasing him." She snapped. Harry shot her a grateful look, feeling a bit uncomfortable that it was the source (unknowingly, on her part) of the conversation to save him from it. "He was wearing his charms for a reason," Yea, because he hadn't known about them. "he doesn't need you to bother him about it now that you've somehow convinced him to take them off." Then she looked at Harry, and her face softened into a kind smile. His stomach flopped. "You did not have to, for that matter. You should lot let this oaf pressure you." He smiled weakly back, and took a drink from his cup (it was some sort of juice) to avoid answering her.

Muhammad stood very abruptly.

"I forgot about something important." He declared, and his voice was so flat it was obvious he was lying, and knew they knew it, and he didn't care that they did. "I need to go back to our rooms. Harry? Would you come with me?" The others were giving Moo bizarre looks, but he ignored them. The animagus nodded, and tried not to look too relieved. He stood slowly, smiling at the others.

"Sorry. See you all later?"

"Of course my friend. You may dine with us any day you please." Thor smiled at him, and he grinned back and nodded, and then followed his brother out.

"Thanks." He whispered, once they were just out of earshot. Muhammad threw an arm over his shoulders.

"No problem idiot."

"Hey!"

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"Huh?" Fred chuckled, and George rolle his eyes. The former leaned forwards in his sitting position on Harry's bed. They were gathered there, with Harry and Fred sitting cross-legged and facing each other, and George laid out on his stomach parallel to them.

"It's your animal side, connecting to people." Fred repeated for him. He had finally gotten around to asking them what they knew about the strangeness that seemed to be going on with his instincts when it came to Logan (and Teddy, for that matter), and this was the answer they gave him. He didn't really understand, and he told them so.

"Well, think of it like this," George began to explain. "for you, and other's who have an animalistic side, you're not entirely 'one' with that part of you. You're not separate entities, not precisely, mind you, it's more like..."

"It's like there's one and a half of you, and the smaller part of you is contained inside the larger part." His twin finished for him. "Like a circle drawn inside a circle. The smaller circle is part of the bigger one, but there are still two circles, rather than one. Do you understand?"

"Sort of." He nodded, and George cut in again.

"The 'human' part of you, connects to people, and makes friends and family through shared experiences and similar personality traits and interests. Some people, you get along with better, or get close to quicker, than others. The 'animal' part of you, connects to the 'animal' sides of other people who have one, and helps you make friends and family through it, but not in the same way as your human side."

"It only connects to other 'inner beasts'," Fred told him. "and it doesn't just happen right upon meeting them. It's partially based on compatibility, partially on your 'human' thoughts and subconscious opinions, and partially on your first interaction with them."

"So I won't 'connect' to random people for no reason?" They both shook their heads, and he slumped in relief. "But it happened so quickly, with Logan and Teddy." Then he frowned. "And you two and Remus both have 'animal' sides, but I've never connected to any of you." George nodded.

"With Logan, you said you fought him the day you met him, right?"

"Yes."

"Why? What made you decide to get in the ring?" He shrugged.

"I don't know. I was drunk." Fred smiled.

"Drunk or no, there had to have been something. Even something small."

"Well..."

"Yes?"

"He seemed bored." He shrugged again. "He was beating his opponents so easily, I just wanted... I guess I thought I could give him more of a challenge, at least enough to brighten his evening, and I was bored too, a little. I wanted some excitement, I think." Fred nodded slowly.

"Well, whether you realized what was happening or not, he caught your eye. He interested you, and then you challenged him, and lost. To your 'animal' sides, that was like you trying to assert dominance over him, and then, when you failed, him showing you that he was the dominant one, that he was stronger and better than you."

"And when you woke up in his home, and saw that you were fine, and that he had looked after you, that told your 'inner beast' that he would make a good 'alpha'; that he was strong enough to protect you, and kind enough to be willing to." George finished.

"So... He and I are like a 'pack'?"

"It's as good a word for it as any." George told him, shrugging. "And then, with Teddy, that's a bit more simple. You came to meet him with the understanding that he's your godson, with the knowledge, subconscious or no, that you're responsible for him, even if only in the situation that something happens to his parents. Then you met, and your 'animal' side could feel his, and latched onto the thought that he's your responsibility, and, in turn your 'cub', so to speak." Harry nodded.

"Hence the protective instincts." He said, beginning to understand. "But that still doesn't explain about you two and Mooney."

"Wolfsbane." Fred proclaimed grimly. "The potion doesn't just suppress the beast on the full moon, it does it throughout the month too. You haven't connected to the three of us, because, as far as your 'animal' side can tell, there's nothing there to connect to."

"If we stopped taking the potion, then a connection would probably form, likely even one that went both ways, but as it is..."

"You need to take your potion to stay in control during the moon." They both nodded. His head snapped up. "What about the full moons here? Have you guys been-"

"There hasn't been one." He blinked, and the redheads looked at each other. "We should have had one, already, if we were on Earth, but we haven't." George was frowning. Fred shrugged.

"Near as we can tell, the curse has bound itself in with one of the moons here, but there's three of them." And indeed there was, a reddish brown one, and two blue ones, one lighter than the other. "It's not the dark blue one, but the other two haven't had full moons since we've been here, and until they do, we won't know which one we're tied to. We've been keeping an eye on things though, being cautious about it." Harry nodded.

"Let me know then, when one of the moons is about to turn full. I'll join you."

"As an animagus?" They both suddenly looked quite excited. He nodded hesitantly, and George let out a 'whoop'.

"Finally!" Fred cheered. He blinked, and opened his mouth to ask, only to close it as the realization hit him. He hadn't thought of it before, but now that he did... They never had gotten around to having him transform in front of them like they had wanted, and thinking of it now, he realized they had never actually seen his animagus form (he recalled a time at school when they had led him to the water to calm down, but couldn't remember if he had transformed before, or after, he was in the water and out of sight). The only ones who had seen his form fully were Sirius, his Father, Muhammad, and Bruce.

"Huh." He smiled at them. Well, better late than never, he supposed. It wouldn't be until later that he would realize that through the conversation about the moons, he forgot to ask how to take control of those connections and animal responses.

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The bit about the chastity charm was, if you can believe it, planned from the moment that scene was written. At the time, I wasn't sure if I wanted there to be a pairing or not, and I had inserted it as a plot device. In the version where there would be no pairings, Harry would have chosen to continue wearing it, and would have decided to live out his life asexually, perhaps, when older, adopting a child to raise alone, but not getting involved with anyone.

In this version, where he's taken it off, it can be said that there are any number of people who he would have been attracted to over the time he's worn it, that he didn't feel anything for because of it.

That said, the situation with Sif is, at this point, only attraction. Basically, Harry thinks she's hot, and his body responds accordingly. I would be a liar if I said talking to and being noticed by someone I think is physically attractive doesn't make me go weak in the knees. That does not, however, mean that I would date or jump into bed with someone just because I liked their looks. The same can be said for Harry. He won't start anything with someone based purely off physical attraction. Things with Sif won't develop until he's spent some time around her, and gotten to know her as a person. With the way the story skips days, weeks, and occasionally months, it might feel, as a reader, that things will move too quickly there, but try to keep the timeline in mind while you're reading. I'm usually pretty careful about dropping in comments of how much time has gone by occasionally. I also think the time between updates will help as well, for those of you reading along with this as it's posted.

Oh!, and before I forget, the wonderful Mirthful-Malady has made more beautiful art for this fic. There's an absolutely adorable picture of a glamoured Harry playing with baby Teddy, and a cover-type picture of Harry, and MM's take on Tom and Hel. There are links to both of these at the bottom of my profile page, so go take a look if you can!

Now then, I think that's all for now, so I'll see you all in a couple weeks! Take care!

Sincerely,

Mr. Hate