DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and all other characters and locations belong to J. K. Rowling.
Warning: Blood and gore ahead
Chapter Seventeen - Battle and Briaredale
Harry dug his heels into the gelding's sides, urging him on with a loud command. His eyes darted from the snow-covered ground to the forest ahead, searching out the werewolves that had torn up the earth with their flight. Around him, the forest remained quiet, as if the few birds inhabitating the naked trees feared interrupting the silence. Tightening his grip on the reins, he looked over his shoulder at the horses hurtling after him, the whites of their eyes visible as they crashed through uncharted forest. Each breath that left the animals flared nostrils cracked loudly.
"Come on!" Harry called, his voice rough. The raven-haired wizard pressed himself close to the gelding's body as the animal maneuvered around a patch of dense brush, the scraggly branches tearing at flanks and skin. Sweat appeared along the animal's neck as Harry asked for more speed, ignoring the foam growing around its muzzle as it fought for its head. Behind him, Ginny's mare floundered, crying out as Dean's horse slammed into her.
Harry cursed unhappily and dragged back on the reins, bringing his mount to a stumbling halt. He glanced at the sky as he swung his leg over the gelding's withers and dropped to the ground. In the sky, the moon hung balefully, its pale fingers teasingly lighting the path he followed. Clamping his jaw as the back of his skull pounded, he unbuckled the girth and pulled the saddle from the back of Hermione's exhausted horse. Dean's mare pranced nervously as he approached; swinging its tail in displeasure.
"Easy sweetie," Harry murmured, tossing the saddle effortlessly atop the shifting animal. His fingers flew over the buckles and straps as he readied the animal for riding, fighting the numbness that was creeping into his toes.
A barrage of howls broke the night, jolting the horses into lifting their weary heads and peering calculatingly around them. The dark-haired wizard's response was a cold smile and a snicker of pleasure. Patting the mare heartily on the neck, he climbed back into the saddle and caught up the lead rope, clucking to Ginny's mare and Hermione's gelding.
"Almost there, guys." He breathed, looping the long lead around the horn of the saddle to free up his hands. Rubbing his hands together to warm them, he peered into the darkness before tapping the horse with his heels. Without further urging, the mare broke into a lope, hauling the tired pair behind her into action.
It was minutes later when the skittish animal slid to a stop and reared up, hooves shod with iron swinging mercilessly. The shadow that had spooked the horse disappeared back into the night as suddenly as it had appeared. Pawing the ground, the mare snorted and backed up until she stood trembling against Ginny's little horse. All three animals pressed close together, their ears flicking.
Harry dismounted and quietly drew his sword, the metal whispering deadly promises as it slid free of the sheath. He tugged the reins over the mare's neck and bullied her into taking a few steps forward before tying her to a tree. Murmuring softly to the large animal, he checked the knot while listening to the silence of the forest. His face grew grim as the faintest of growls could be heard, carried upon the cool wind blowing between the trees.
"Ready or not, here I come." He mumbled with a dry laugh. Without thinking to deeply about what he was doing, he glided away from the horses and deeper into the waiting forest. Every move he made was carefully thought out, each crunch of snow and crack of breaking branch giving away his position within the woods.
He was given no warning.
The werewolves fell upon him from the trees like ghosts, their fangs shining as they smiled at him. They shifted restlessly, some dropping to all fours and slinking dangerously close while others remained standing on their hind legs. Rumbling and snapping at him, the small pack herded him farther from the tied horses, ignoring the sword he held up to ward them off.
Harry, in turn, went along willingly, his eyes scanning for some sign of the blond wizard. An eruption of yelps had him stiffening, emerald orbs darting to the shadows were a pair of lupine forms clashed. He bounced the sword lightly in his hand, pulling a silver dagger from the small of his back with the other. The appearance of a silver weapon had the werewolves drawing back into the shadows, their grumbling snarls fading.
"Have you figured it out yet?" A voice rasped loudly.
His muscles tensing at the sound of the voice, Harry spun slowly and tipped his head to the side, watching as the silver werewolf glided into the clearing. "Where's Draco?" Concentrating completely on the apparent leader of the small pack, Harry was unprepared for the blur of fur that slammed into his side. Fangs closed around the forearm of the hand holding the silver dagger, jarring the weapon from his grasp and into the darkness. Before the teeth could bury themselves any deeper, Harry rammed the hilt of his sword into the top of the wolf's head, sending it whimpering into the shadows after his dagger.
"Tucked away, for now. I'm trying to figure out which one of you I should kill first. Should I drag him out here and nibble his toes off as you watch helplessly? Or perhaps I could kill you in front of him, hmm? Just so you can watch that hopeless look slide across his pretty little face." The words were murmured suggestively as the wolf observed him, amber eyes shimmering with promise. Laughing softly, the werewolf ran its tongue over its dark lips and let loose a low howl.
Head tipped slightly to the side, Harry shifted the sword to his other hand and pressed his palm against the bite marks on his left forearm. A thought came to his mind and had him smiling as he looked down at the new wound. "Do you remember what we learned about werewolves in Defense class?" Rolling his eyes, the raven-haired wizard held up a hand and shook his head. "Obviously not, seeing as you let yourself get bitten. Anyway, I clearly remember reading that by killing the alpha of a pack, you either destroy the entire line or find yourself commanding a bunch of morons. Sorry, I meant minions, but I'm willing to take that chance."
At those words, the rest of the werewolves fell back, hugging the shadowy edge of the clearing. Snarls and sharp barks cut through the night, disbelief over Harry's unexpected challenge colouring the canines rough tones. Circling the area, the wolves rubbed against each other, wary of the wizard standing upon the packed snow under the full moon.
"You have to be a werewolf to issue that particular challenge. It was a good try though." The silver wolf sneered.
Harry threw back his head and laughed before thrusting his left arm out. "Thanks to one of your mutts, I'll be granted that unfortunate privilege upon the next full moon." Still laughing softly, he hefted his sword and arched a dark eyebrow.
Screeching in outrage, the gray werewolf glared at the shifting shadows, seeking out the guilty party. "If that's the way you want to play, so be it. I accept." Without further ado, he dropped to all fours and charged Harry.
The move was expected and Harry acted accordingly, jumping and rolling to the right as the wolf flew past him. He rose to his feet quickly, swinging his sword out before him and grasping the hilt with both hands. "You've been away from the guards too long if you've forgotten everything that Moody taught us." He called, watching as the gray wolf shook snow from its fur and spun around. "Never charge into battle, you give away your best possible defensive position."
Curling lips back to expose glistening fangs, the werewolf began to circle Harry. His sleek head held low as he prowled angrily. Along the edge of the clearing, the rest of the pack watched on in interest, yapping and yipping in encouragement.
"Injured your pride, didn't I?" Harry purred, turning with the werewolf. He chuckled when the wolf growled and snapped its jowls closed, spraying saliva in his direction. "Gonna try again?"
The words were barely past his lips when the werewolf leapt into the air, heavily muscled forearms swinging wildly. Ducking to avoid the blow, Harry ended up on the ground as a hind paw slammed into his chest. Gasping for breath, he rose unsteadily, one hand rubbing his aching diaphragm. "Less talking than, eh?" He breathed the words out as he hunched in on himself, the tip of his sword resting in the snow.
Seeing his obvious pain as well as the lowered sword, the silver werewolf waltzed in for the kill; stalking forward on two legs with one of its clawed hands raised.
Harry's heart thundered in his ears as he watched the werewolf walk toward him, tightening his grip on the hilt of the long blade he held. When the werewolf was right in front of him with its razor sharp claws flying toward his throat, he spun and rose up under the raised arm. His sword whistled through the air as he put his full weight behind the blow, exhaling with a grunt as the blade connected with the wolf's neck.
Silence filled the clearing, broken only by Harry's loud panting. With a thud, the silver werewolf's body sank to the ground, its head landing and rolling to a halt several feet away. Closing his eyes in relief, Harry dropped to one knee and rested his chin atop his folded hands on the hilt of the silver sword. His eyes flicked up as a dark werewolf slunk into the glade, dropping to its belly and groveling directly in front of him. In a matter of seconds the rest of the pack followed, whimpering and whining as they offered their throats to the raven-haired wizard.
A chuckle escaped his lips as he looked at the mangy group of werewolves he'd just acquired. "Great," he breathed as he stood. Glancing around, he raised his sword and pointed at one of the wolves. "You, go and get Draco. And I swear, if one hair on his head is harmed . . . I'll kill all of you slowly."
With a yelp, the werewolf vanished into the darkness, its tail tucked firmly between its legs. Shaking his head, Harry used the edge of his long cloak to wipe the sword's blade clean. He placed the weapon into its sheath as he stared up at the moon, waiting patiently for the return of the wolf and Draco. "As for the rest of you, you're all going to go to Versil. You'll wait there until I come for you, be it a week or a month."
A crunching sound had him turning around and glancing down at the body of the silver werewolf, brow drawing down in disgust. Using the toe of his boot, he carefully moved the man's head into a patch of moonlight. His lips tightened as he stared into a pair of eyes he recognized.
"Harry!"
Spinning around, he opened his arms as Draco crashed into him. He heaved a relieved sigh as he cuddled the blond against his chest and stroked his hair away from his face. "You're alright?" He croaked, giving the pale wizard a squeeze before pushing him back so he could examine him.
"I'm okay," Draco mumbled, eyes widening as he saw the blood staining the raven-haired wizard's robe. "You're hurt!" He cried out, hands immediately reaching for the injured limb.
Harry jerked the blond back against his chest before he had a chance to examine the wound, dropping his lips suddenly upon Draco's. Nibbling gently, he swiped his tongue along the blond's lower lip, silently requesting entrance. With a quiet whimper the blond appeased, opening his mouth and shuddering as Harry's tongue glided across his.
A howl exploded into the night, breaking the two apart. Panting, they leaned against each other as the werewolves gathered around them lifted their angular heads and parted their jaws. As one voice fell away, another rose up to take its place, the werewolf choir serenading the couple.
Closing his eyes, the raven-haired wizard rested his chin atop Draco's head and wrapped his arms around his waist. "Let's get out of here," he muttered. "We have to catch up with the others."
Sighing, he pushed the blond in the direction of the horses. At the edge of the clearing he paused, glancing over his shoulder at the singing werewolves. Narrowing his eyes, he dropped his hand to the hilt of the silver handled sword in warning before stepping into the shadows. Silently, the tired pair walked into the darkness, no longer afraid of the shifting shadows or the haunting melody rising up behind them.
XxXxX
The Red Lions had arrived in Briaredale just after lunch, their worn mounts stumbling as they were led into the stable behind the Barn Owl Inn. It had been an equally exhausted group that had staggered inside the main building and rented three rooms, rubbing tired eyes and muffling yawns as they waited to be directed upstairs. Once ensconced within their rooms, they had collapsed into their beds, ready to spend the next few hours tossing and turning while they pondered the fate of Harry and Draco.
It was now several minutes after midnight and the entire group was gathered in the large dining room downstairs. Dean, Seamus, Fred, and Blaise were seated around one of the round tables playing cards, their eyes lifting toward the main door every time it swung open. Sighs slipped past their lips as they glanced at the clock, tension mounting as time crept by.
"They should be here by now." Hermione muttered as she looked up from the book she had been reading. Shaking her head, she closed the book and placed it on the table before her, fingers reaching for the bottle of wine sitting between Ginny and Pansy.
"Take it easy," Ginny mumbled, frowning as she worked at untangling her. Curling her lip, she tugged a twig from a knot of red and dropped it onto the floor. "Harry probably stopped to rest the horses, you know him." The witch waved her hand as Hermione paused with the bottle over her glass, nodding her head in thanks as the other witch refilled her glass.
"Maybe." Hermione relented, picking her wine glass up and staring blankly into the golden liquid. Sighing, she took a sip and shot a quick look at the clock before glancing over at George and Ron.
Shrugging her shoulders, Ginny scooped up her glass and downed the contents quickly before turning her attention to Pansy. "How's Severus doing?" She asked sweetly, wiggling an eyebrow as Hermione snorted into her cup.
"His nose appears to be broken and he has two black eyes." Pansy sniffed, swirling her wine expertly. Ignoring the cough the redhead witch attempted to cover, she took a dainty sip and smiled evilly. "You know, after Severus gets done with Potter, he'll never work in this country again."
"Dumbledore won't fire him." Hermione mumbled, reopening her book and settling deeper into her chair.
"Of course not," Ginny agreed, rising and walking toward her brothers. There was a note in her voice that betrayed her calm appearance, a slight frown that showed she didn't quite believe the statement.
The front door swung open then, a cool wind sweeping into the room before the door was pushed closed. Standing just inside the door, the figures were heavily cloaked with deep hoods pulled over their foreheads. Raising a hand, the taller individual pulled his hood back, revealing his sparkling green eyes.
Triumphant shouts filled the room as the Lions surged to their feet and swept forward, arms extended toward their leader. Calling and laughing, they slapped Harry on the back and gave him quick hugs, all of them trying to talk at once.
Chuckling, Harry lifted a hand and gestured for silence, slipping his other arm around Draco's waist. "Let's sit down before we fall," he stated, displaying the exhaustion he felt as he walked slowly toward one of the tables. Draco stumbled along next to him, eyes half closed.
"How did it go?" Hermione asked, grabbing Harry's injured arm and frowning down at the wound. She shook her head as she pulled back his sleeve, mouth opening to comment on the injury. Lifting her head sharply, she met the raven-haired wizard's eyes and shut her mouth as he shook his head.
"It went fine." Harry offered, scratching his cheek as he watched the bushy haired witch clean and bandage his arm. He knew she had figured out the cause of the injury but now was neither the time nor the place to discuss it. "As soon as you're done here, I'm going to bed."
"That bad, was it?" Ron asked, offering Harry a tankard of ale.
Accepting the large mug, Harry downed the contents quickly and leaned back in his chair. "Thanks, Ron." He rubbed his mouth with the ragged edge of his robe and closed his eyes. "It was actually easier than I thought it would be but my plan worked perfectly."
Rolling her eyes, Hermione patted him on the top of the head. "Go to bed, Harry. We'll talk about this tomorrow morning."
"Yes, mother." Harry mumbled, rising slowly. He dropped a quick kiss on the top of Draco's head as he left the room, ignoring the various looks exchanged by his team. Shrugging their shoulders, the group trailed after Harry, separating and going into their designated rooms. All of them wondering what would happen when they reached Diagon Alley tomorrow afternoon.
A/N: Thanks to everyone who took the time to read and review!
PleiadesWolfe – Enough action for you? lol, of this entire story, that one scene is definitely among my faves.
Crystal Malfoy – We won't see Terry and Theodore for a couple more chapters, though I do have their brief appearances already planned. Yep, Sev is old and Harry just rubbed his pointy nose in it.
PicassoJR – lol, I'm glad you're enjoying it
GryffieGurl – There will definitely be a Harry/Voldemort encounter but it's not going to play a big part in the story.
NinjaoftheDarkness – Who doesn't want Draco?
LandUnderWave – lol, a mere four more chapters and it'll be done. I don't know whether that makes me happy or sad.
TorringMay – I wish you well and hope that my stories continue to amuse you.