Hogwarts and the Other Pack

Chapter Four

It was unsurprisingly a shock to get back to such strict formal education. These lessons were nothing like the ones Accalia gave at the den. Those were informative and useful but they also didn't carry the pressure that the classroom did. By the end of the hour and a half lesson, they already had to revise through the '1-6 Year Refresher' section for a test tomorrow and had an essay to write. He winced at the thought of trying to get homework done at the den. He'd have to use the reception room to hide in if he hoped to achieve anything.

The bell chimed and they began packing up. Intent on heading for Charms, Harry's insistent mantra that Fyerhyde wasn't interested in him in the slightest was shattered as she summoned him back from the others who piled out the door like youngsters. Harry hesitated, a little pulse of uncertainty licking at his throat. He swallowed, gripping the shoulder strap of his bag to ground himself to his mortal morals as he approached her, keeping a safe distance.

The wolf howled in his ears. He winced. "Thanks for an amazing first lesson," he said brightly, hoping he covered his unease. "I was worried it'd all go in one ear and out the other after so much time away from the classroom but you really made it stick."

Fyerhyde beamed. She had a bright face and her hazel eyes greeted him warmly. "It's different to teaching children for sure," she said, her dulcet voice breezing over him. "I'm glad it's working so well. I think this course will help so many people." She glanced at the door then, watching it close behind the last student and then looked at him, uncertainty prickling at her expression. "Mr Potter, forgive me, but I can't help but notice that you…you recognised me. What I am."

Harry drew in a small breath. He needed to hide, protect his young, be as small as possible. He swallowed. "It was your magic really, it's got a werewolf's protection around it," he said eventually.

She nodded. "My partner, he is a werewolf. I know the world's opinion on werewolf kind has reformed thanks to you and Mr Lupin, but there are still prejudices against those that live as I do teaching children and if word got out I might-"

"It's fine," he said, smiling slightly. "Your secret's safe with me."

Her lips quirked, eyes flicking down to his stomach briefly. "As is yours."

Harry tensed. "I…It's only recent and normal people find it hard to get on with so that'd be…appreciated, yeah, thanks." Unease at being so close was still there, he wanted to swear at it until it pissed off. But he knew there was more she wasn't saying. "If that's all?" he suggested, hefting his bag higher up his shoulder.

Her head flicked up and she looked panicked for a moment. "Oh, no, forgive me it's just that… Rumours of what you did for the Malfoy heir have been spreading among werewolves, all the way down to the pack I live with in Land's End."

"What I-"

"You shared your gift with him, made it so that he could carry young the way you do, providing he pair with a werewolf mate." She stepped closer, grabbing both of his hands. Harry flinched instinctively and backed up, grunting slightly in annoyance at how stupid he must look.

"Sorry," he winced, "It's…hormones, instincts, whatever you want to call them. It doesn't feel right when people get too close."

She blinked, eyes wide, scanning him quickly. "I'm so sorry," she gasped. "I should've thought but I… Our pack never had one such as you since the Hunt desecrated it. So little is known…"

Harry nodded grimly. The Hunt was something Fenrir loathed to discuss but he was very aware of it. "So you…you and your mate want to conceive, is that it?" he guessed.

"Not only us. Please, Mr Potter, Harry, you could help bring happiness to so many of us, not only those in our pack but the rogues too. But we cannot find you easily you see and so…" She looked as if she wanted to grasp his hands again but managed to stop herself. "I know that only one who is born to it like you, not made like Mr Malfoy can share the gift. Would you not share it with the rest of us?"

"The thing is," he began hesitantly. "It takes a lot out of me. I'm more than happy to share this gift but I can't do it all at once. You'd have to take it in turns, Fenrir wouldn't allow strangers into pack grounds so I'm not sure where we'd do the ritual and even then, I'm not sure how to spread word."

"I do not regret falling for my husband," she replied softly. "But to never be able to carry my own child is…" Her eyes turned bright, glassy. "Your pack is quite secluded as far as the werewolf community is concerned. Ours is a hub of sorts, we are frequently in contact with others who could-"

Harry winced, torn between helping people and the overwhelming, sickening feeling at the thought of being sought out by so many strangers. His hand slid to his stomach unbidden and he glanced to the door. "Other wolves came after me once because of what I could do," he murmured. "They hurt my pack. They killed, because of me." An image of Ulric's stern, uncompromising expression came to mind and he ached. "This isn't just me involved here. I…I need to speak to Fenrir."

"Fenrir Greyback," she said, as if testing the name on her tongue. "Yes. That…I understand." Her disappointment was palpable. Perhaps she assumed Fenrir would automatically say no. Harry had to admit, he assumed the same.

"Just let me talk to him," he said, in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. "I really have to get to the next lesson," he added. There was no reply, even as he closed the door behind him.

"You didn't have a good day then?" Fenrir asked that evening around the fire at dinner. The atmosphere was the same as always, bright warm, merry. Kirian and Vilkas were taking their turn at clearing the plates and bowls with Amoux and Fenrir was nursing a large flagon of mead with a hand on Harry's thigh.

"No, it was great," Harry said, but even to his own ears he didn't sound convinced. "There were some people I recognised from school before and I actually found I remembered a lot of the stuff I learned before. Bit of a reality shock to sit still in a classroom though." He glanced to Kirian. "I think it was hard for him. Eithne said around lunch time he got really upset and wanted me to put him down for his nap but he was alright when he woke up."

"Kirian needs to grow a bit without you," Fenrir said, "He isn't going to be emotionally scarred. This sort of stuff is normal for human kids as well you know."

It was on Harry's tongue to ask exactly how he knew that, but he didn't want to take his mood out on Fenrir. Instead he sighed. The hand on his thigh tightened a fraction. "Is it the cub?"

"No," Harry said quickly. "No, it's fine. I'm fine, I just…" He cast a glance around the circle, casting a subtle Muffliato before answering, "I was just thinking about my…gift."

Fenrir's brows furrowed. "What about it?"

"I haven't shared it with anyone except our pack," he said, not meeting that gaze that knew him worryingly well. "I think…I think I inherited it for a reason. I feel like I should make use of it."

Fenrir remained silent, large hand sliding up so that his knuckles could brush against the flat slope of Harry's stomach through his clothing. Harry covered the hand with his own. "You don't want me to," Harry guessed.

Fenrir caught his gaze, eyes warm. "I want you safe. I don't care about anyone else."

Harry felt a smile touch his lips and brushed his thumb across the back of Fenrir's rough hand. Moments like this, with simple intimacy and connection, they made everything else fall away. "Which is why I don't want you to flip when I tell you this, but my Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher? Her husband is a werewolf." The hand under his tensed and Harry hastened to add, "She didn't hurt me, Fenrir. We just got to talking and…she wants me to share my gift with her. She's from a pack down south somewhere – she said they're a centre point for a lot of the others and the rogues too, that maybe they could spread the word. Maybe I could help more people."

"The Land's End packrun on political bullshit," Fenrir said shortly. "If they get wind of you they'll drag you into their rubbish and then you'll have dug yourself a hole you won't be able to get out of." His face was hard, unyielding. "Last time I saw them was just after my parents…. Well, anyway they thought what was left of all the packs should congregate under their pack leader. They wanted an uprising, which I wasn't exactly opposed to but Greybacks don't bow to anyone. Much less someone who hasn't even won their respect. Their pack leader is a malicious, scheming arse and we cut ties with him long ago." The hand not resting on Harry's stomach slid round to grip the bench behind him. "Harry, he's just like Conall and the others. Except instead of turning up and demanding you outright they'll make up some political rubbish to lure you in until you can't get out. Don't do this, Harry. I'm asking you." He hesitated, eyes dark. "Please."

It was very rare for Fenrir to ask for anything, especially so earnestly. Harry was lost for words for a moment and grateful for the notice me not charm because he knew his expression must be mortifyingly gobsmacked. "Fenrir," he began, "I just…that yearning for children, we can satisfy that for so many people. You know what it feels like yourself, would you wish that on someone when I can so easily fix it? If the Land's End pack aren't the way, then surely we can find another?"

Fenrir sighed. "I can…empathise with others who feels the same as me, have the same yearning, but I don't care about them in the same way you do. As long as you're safe and we have our cubs, our pack, I don't care about anything else."

Harry cocked his head, brow furrowed with affectionate disapproval. "I know, I get it, just…" He remembered the image of the desecrated valley, his pack mates fighting for their lives, of Ulric's tragic end in his arms. He didn't want to bring that on his pack again, but he also thought of Larentia and of Fenrir's yearning, the same that so many would feel. "If you think I might bring harm to our family then I won't insist on it," he said at last, looking into those conflicted blue eyes. He could see the internal battle, practically hear Fenrir's desire to immediately snap that he shouldn't. But then he saw the part of him that knew Harry was counting on him to be truthful.

With a growl of frustration, Fenrir leant back and pushed to his feet. Harry watched him walk a few feet beyond the warm magic surrounding the fire, before getting up himself. Ghost flicked his tail and walked beside him after Fenrir, until both of them joined him by the edge of the pool that was sheltered by the great willow he'd sat in years before with Kirian in his belly. The moonlight trickled through the gaps in the canopy to paint the still water below and reflected onto Fenrir's face. He was so stunning in that moment that Harry could only stare.

Ghost nudged at his hand, coaxing Harry to rub his ears. The feel of soft fur under his fingertips could not distract from the moment though. In times like this Fenrir looked so young and mulish, with the same expression Kirian wore when Harry scolded him. In the end, Harry leant down, brushing his mouth across Fenrir's in a barely there kiss.

"What?" Fenrir mumbled, but his face had softened.

"I love you," he said, words not said nearly often enough but always meant. Fenrir let out a low, rumbling croon that made Harry's instincts prickle pleasantly. "I won't push this if you think it will be a risk."

"You were at that school for a few hours and already you've encountered a werewolf's mate – what's going to happen in a few weeks?" Fenrir grumbled.

Harry sat down on the edge of the pool, Ghost's head pushing its way into his lap, which he stroked distractedly. "Who can say. We can't plan for every eventuality and we can't hide away in our bubble just in case some sort of conflict comes about either." He thought of Snape calling him reckless then and added, "There is a difference between taking chances and being foolhardy though. If you think this will be stupid, if I'm going to be putting everyone at risk then tell me so. Only you know how dangerous this pack is."

Fenrir sighed again, leaning back on his arms, legs spread out in front of him, just shy of the edge of the pool. "They're not dangerous like Conall and the others were," he muttered. "But more manipulative, clever. I'm surprised Conall didn't go to them first, just to piss me off but then I s'pose he didn't want the competition. Land's End, they want to rule us, Harry. If they had you, they could."

Harry raised a brow. "And you don't fancy ruling all werewolves?" he had no doubt Fenrir could.

"I just want my pack, that's all I care about," Fenrir replied, dragging a hand across the hair at the back of his neck. "It'll be a pain in the arse. They'll try and manipulate you and I'll have to step in every time and tell them where to go."

"I can look after myself, you know," Harry began.

"I know that, but you shouldn't bloody have to," Fenrir snapped. "You should be able to share your gift without worrying about repercussions. So I will have to step in but I don't think they'll be violent. They think themselves above it. Like some…werewolf elders or some such rubbish." He glanced at Harry at last, almost unwillingly. "I…I don't think anyone will be in danger. If you really feel like you have to do this, then I'll support it."

Harry's fingers paused where they rested over Ghost's head. Those ears had flicked up and Harry saw Kirian heading toward them across the grass. He beamed sleepily at the three of them, climbing into the small space in Harry's lap that Ghost had left, so he was nestled between Harry and Fenrir. "Does the baby sleep the same time as me?" Kirian asked, voice slightly slurred with oncoming slumber.

Chuckling, Fenrir leant back, drawing his family with him so they were curled together on the grass. Harry too closed his eyes, arm over Kirian but hand resting on Fenrir's chest. Kirian had taken to patting Harry's stomach gently as he spoke, the way one might a dog or cat. It made Harry's old feelings of feminisation ripple like angry insects under his skin, but Kirian was so heartfelt and tender, innocent that he couldn't quite feel as indignant about it as he'd like.

"The baby sleeps a lot so he grows," Fenrir said, turning his head so he could sniff at Harry's hair. "When he gets a bit bigger you'll be able to feel him. Maybe even see him moving.

Harry flushed for some reason. Pregnancy definitely was going to be different this time round, he hoped for the best.

"S'it a boy then?" Kirian mumbled. Even through tiredness Harry thought he could hear hopefulness.

"Maybe. You'll have to wait and see," Harry replied. Kirian's small hand patted him one last time.

"I won't be the baby anymore," Kirian said in a hushed but pleased voice and with that his head drooped and he drifted off. Ghost shifted closer, his warm fur all the heat Harry and Kirian's sensitive skin needed to protect against what little cold managed to sneak in through the wards. Harry hadn't realised how good for Kirian the baby would be before now. He already seemed stronger, more confident. Had Harry really been babying him, holding him back all this time?

"Stop thinking," Fenrir grumbled, "I can hear it from here."

Harry snorted but pushed his head up a little to encourage the soft sniffing and nuzzling against his head. It felt nice. It always did with Fenrir. With all of them together like this. "I never meant to hold him back," he whispered.

"You haven't. He's our son and he's been raised happy and safe. He's had the best childhood anyone could ask for, you haven't done anything wrong, Harry," Fenrir said tiredly. "Let it go, will you? He's fine. Now's just...the time to let him stretch his legs a little. Let him grow on his own."

Harry nodded slowly. He was so tired. It'd been a long day and his head felt so busy. The warmth around him, the pressure against his head helped. "I'll try. And I'll try not to be reckless," Harry murmured as he held Kirian close, leaning against Fenrir's shoulder.

"That'll be the day," Fenrir responded under his breath, but his tone was affectionate and empty of bite. Harry closed his eyes. Just for a minute.

The following days were filled with tension and Harry only had himself to blame. No one much liked the idea of opening themselves to the Land's End pack and Harry felt unease brewing among the pack. The day Fenrir and Raquelle left to make initial contact with them was the day it all boiled over.

"Don't pine so, Potter," Draco said as they walked, Astrid strapped in a sling over his chest so he only had to support her head as they moved. "You've brought this on yourself."

Harry scowled. "I'm trying to do what's right. Imagine how much more difficult your life would've been if I hadn't shared the gift with you. Imagine how different?" He gestured to Astrid. "You wouldn't have had Astrid. You would've had to risk being bitten to be with the person you loved. That's not right. I can fix it. I should fix it for everyone if I can."

"Hell-bent on saving the world after all these years," Draco sighed dramatically. They passed the small pool where a lot of the pack were gathered, doing the laundry and watching the cubs that were too young to take part in the lesson taking place on the stone circle.

"I believe everything happens for a reason," Harry said with a shrug. "I was given this so I could give it to others. Rebuild the world wizarding kind destroyed. A lot of this pack were resistant to me at first because of my wizard heritage. I know why now and I want to make amends."

"You believe it will help to further bring the two worlds together," Draco said. "Remove lingering reticence for the future."

Before Harry could answer, one of those by the pool muttered something. Draco stopped. "What did you say?" he hissed.

The man, around the same age as Echo (though werewolf appearances could sometimes be deceiving), turned to face them. To his credit, he looked sheepish at being overheard but all the more defiant because of it. "I said nothing can erase what wizards did to us. Some things can't be undone."

Harry bristled. "We are part wizard too," he said, trying not to sound petulant.

The man just stared. "You're one of us. Not one of them. Some attempts at blurring the lines only serve to put us in danger. Some things are the way they are for a reason."

Draco stepped forward, brushing his hand down Astrid's back with one hand, vanishing the strap and easing her into Harry's arms. "Nothing just is," he snapped. "Nothing has to be forever more just because it has always been, nor does it make it right. This is your alpha pair's decision." He raised his silver gaze to the rest of the pack gathered by the pool who were watching in silence. "Don't think I haven't heard the whispers. If you want to challenge your alphas' decision, then do so like a wolf not a mutinous rat."

The man before them rose, standing head and shoulders above Draco and flushed with anger. "Hey, that's enough. We've got a right to discuss how we feel without being spat at by a little upstart like you."

Draco snarled, shoving his hand roughly into the man's chest and making him stagger, teeth bared. "Stand down," he seethed, eyes flashing. "Remember your place."

"You're the Alpha Numero's enforcer because you lift your arse to the beta, not for any credit of your own," the man growled back. Harry tensed but it was needless. He should've known Draco could demand his owed respect himself. Some things had changed over the years. Draco gave another warning snap before he leapt, throwing his full body into the unprepared man and making him stumble back hard into the grass. Draco straightened, foot pressed into his neck and turning his face to the dirt. He wasn't physically stronger but he was more dominant, both by nature and within the pack.

"You disrespect me and your alphas with your prattling. I'm not a boy. This is a werewolf pack not a girl's playground," Draco hissed, pressing harder with his foot.

"The pack is afraid of what will happen if we open our arms to the rest of the werewolf community," a woman said, approaching with head slightly angled in respect, eyes imploring. Harry and Fenrir were the alpha pair and Draco and Echo the second, the beta pair of the pack. They commanded respect of their own that had only been heightened by Astrid's birth. Harry watched, knowing somehow that he had to let Draco fight this himself. Some werewolf politics needed to be fought out. The challenged wolf needed to face the challenger. That was the way it was done.

Draco's head snapped up to look at the woman, who edged back slightly. "That's all," she said gently. "He just got a bit…worked up."

"He should be the one offering submission, not you," Draco murmured darkly. He couldn't transform into a wolf yet but Harry swore he could see the shadow of the wolf in his face as he glared down at the large man under his foot. "You remember what happened to the last insubordinate, don't you?" he snapped, meaning Weylyn. Everything went still. Draco pressed a final time with his foot before stepping back. The man scrabbled to his feet and looked to Harry, apparently wondering at his reaction. When Harry did nothing and Draco continued to stare, he turned his head with a huff and waited.

"If you have fears concerning the future, you should speak with Harry, Fenrir, Echo or even myself, not spread rumours like children," Draco said to everyone who was listening. He focused his gaze on the submitting man once more. "Do you have any issues you would like to discuss with your Alpha Numero?"

The man grit his teeth. "I don't want another invasion," he said, voice low. "So much has changed in recent years…"

"Good changes," Harry said, easing Astrid back into Draco's arms. "The pack has flourished because of it. And we won't be leaving our gates open to people we don't trust. Fenrir and I and a few others will go to them when the time is right and none of them will be admitted inside here until they prove their credibility. Alright?" Harry replied carefully.

The man shifted but did not look at either of them, his initial flare of embarrassed temper dwindling. There were good people here, they just got worked up and upset like everyone else. That's what pack hierarchy was for, to keep it in line. He smiled thoughtfully as Draco reached forward and gripped the man's shoulder in acceptance before walking away, continuing toward the gates he and Harry had been heading for initially. Harry lingered, meeting the man's eyes as he cautiously lifted them.

"I meant no disrespect to you, Alpha Numero. It is just that the pack is so full of fear that what happened before will happen again," the man said.

"It won't," Harry said. "That's why we're trying to make peace with the past and everyone else associated with it. You have to trust me and Fenrir," he glanced in the direction Draco had gone. "Draco too."

"I do, he just rubs me up the wrong way sometimes," the man admitted gruffly. At this Harry laughed.

"Me too," he said, "But he deserves as much respect as you give Echo." When the man nodded, Harry hastened to catch up to Draco, who'd met with Larentia, Hemming and Marrok at the gate and were waiting for him. "Sorry," he said, "ready." He'd wanted something, anything to do to clear his busy head and helping with the hunt seemed as good an option as any. As much as he could anyway – he'd never be very good at killing his own food, he was too soft-hearted for that.

The irony didn't escape him when Larentia and Hemming branched off and he, Marrok and Draco met the stretch of the river that Marrok had once taken Harry to. The place Harry had tried to flee from him and had been later saved by Fenrir. He smiled and when he met Marrok's eye as he crouched down by the river's edge, he knew the man was remembering the exact same moment.

"Don't take their bickering to heart," Marrok told Harry and Draco, "You know they're just gossiping and uncertain of what's to come. They don't mean anything by what they say."

Draco snorted, laying Astrid down on the dry grass and crouching down by the water's edge himself, staring into the depths, waiting. He was always better at this than Harry, more patient – maybe even faster too, though Harry would never admit it. Draco's head was big enough as it was.

"I just don't want to make the wrong decision," Harry murmured, "people got hurt before, because of me. I don't want that to happen again. And I don't want another bloody war either."

Marrok smirked. "You carry a big weight on your shoulders for someone so small," he laughed gently. "Don't worry so loud, you'll scare the fish." He glanced to Draco then, before looking back to Harry. "Lean on your pack a bit more. On your mate. You're not alone, Harry, you haven't been for a long time."

Not knowing what he could say, Harry nodded. He did still take so much responsibility on himself, even now. It was something that would take a long time to grow out of, he supposed. As his beta, Draco should be allowed to help him more, the way Echo did for Fenrir. He'd more than proved himself capable after all. Pack politics, he thought with a sigh. It was both confusing and yet comforting at the same time.

"Hey," Marrok said gently, lifting his head to sniff the air. "You can run a bit still, can't you?" he asked Harry mischievously.

Harry frowned as he nodded slowly.

"Catch lots of fish, Draco," Marrok said brightly, shrugging off his trousers and shirt. "Come on, I can smell Larentia and Hemming stalking a catch down the way." With that, he transformed and Harry watched the dark fur zip off into the trees. Harry darted after him, hearing Draco's amused chuckle as he did so.

Sometimes being part wolf was a glorious thing. The wind rushed through his ears, over his heightened senses and blew the heavy thoughts from his mind. He couldn't run as fast as he could as a wolf but with that out of the question for the moment… "Accio Firebolt!" he called and within moments, the broom was zipping alongside him. He hopped on, still as nimble as he'd always been (for now) and shot off in the direction he could smell his pack-mates.

A sharp, summoning howl called to him on the breeze. He twitched the broom to the right, weaving easily between the trees as easy as breathing. He inhaled deeply. He could smell sweat, fur, excitement. He tilted his body forward onto the broom, leaning into the wind and letting it slide over him, rush through him like a refreshing spray of sea mist. He broke the line of trees then into a small clearing, spying Marrok, Hemming and Larentia herding a deer just ahead, the sun greeting their fur, their paws thundering across the dirt. Harry's heart thudded with excitement as he took it all in and flew forwards, cutting the corner of the path they'd woven in the grass and zooming toward them.

He didn't like to take part in the killing of another life – any life really. But the thrill of the chase was something that was a part of him as surely as his magic was. Perhaps it was the reason he made such a good seeker. A sharp, inhuman yip left his lips before he could stop himself and he soared over the deer, distracting Marrok who yapped back. Harry continued into the trees, far and away from the hunt and into the refreshing breeze. With his mind calmed somewhat now, he was just contemplating circling round back to Draco when he smelt it, the spike on the air that sent his hyped up senses into overdrive.

Guiding his broom forward into the trees again, he shot across the path of the scent's source, relishing in the whiff of surprise and thrill of the chase that filled him once again. He couldn't outrun much on human legs right now, not in his condition but this, this he could do. He wove in and out of the tree trunks with ease, rising up to feel their branches whisk past him, just miss him. He heard the pounding of paws on the earth below and dipped, just enough to feel a brush of silver fur.

Fenrir gave a playful growl and bent his head low, pushing himself until he was a few feet ahead, enough space to turn and block Harry's path. Harry halted with the relative ease characteristic of the firebolt and beamed breathlessly as he watched the silver wolf morph back into the face of his mate.

"Trying to entice me to chase you?" Fenrir mused, reaching forward to cup Harry's neck, using the firm but gentle grip to pull him close so he could smell him. "If you wanted a hunt you should've said so."

"Helps clear the head," Harry replied, tilting his head into the touch of that nose to his temple. "Come help me and Draco catch some fish?" he asked.

"Fishing is for the betas. Alpha catch real game for their mates," he snorted, releasing Harry so he could step back a fraction. He surveyed him carefully. "You seem more wolf today."

Harry smirked. "I feel like it today. Like…like I want to run with the pack and…" He flushed when he realised how that sounded. "Well you know. I'm guessing it's hormonal instincts. It doesn't feel bad though. It's not like morning sickness."

With a small laugh, Fenrir urge him back onto his feet and propped the broom over his shoulder. "Mingling with the pack when you're carrying is a good thing. It promotes a healthier term. Embrace it. Your body knows what it needs." They started walking and Harry nodded thoughtfully.

"I think the pack needs it. Needs…the bonding time, maybe. Especially with all this going on with the other pack. We need to be a unified force."

"Spoken like a true alpha mate," Fenrir noted. "It's good for a pack to sometimes just give into nature and let it guide them anyway. We can sprawl out tonight after the meal-"

"What about coming out here?" Harry asked, gesturing to the forest. "By the water? All of us at once. You know?" He couldn't explain it. This yearning to move as a pack, for them all to reacquaint themselves with their places, their tandem. In the end, he didn't need to.

"You don't have to ask permission," Fenrir said dismissively. "It's not a dangerous season and the moon is far enough away. There's no reason not to."

Harry blinked. "I thought you'd be on edge and defiant after being with that other pack," he said cautiously.

"You're not the only one whose mood improves with a chase," Fenrir said, eyes practically glowing.

That night as the evening meal settled in their bellies, Fenrir lead the way out of the tunnels into the clear evening, their pack moving as one to gather round the large pool Harry had taken to when he'd first arrived. Magic illuminated it easily, hundreds of glistening lights filling the clearing with a warm white glow. "It's like a midnight party!" Kirian beamed happily as he tore off his shirt to shoot toward the water with the rest of the pack children. It was far from midnight but Harry supposed it had that magical quality about it, a new experience made even more exciting in the dead of night. If nothing else, the children were enjoying it.

Looking around, his family were relaxing in the magical light around the water, the way muggles might in the sun around a swimming pool. The tension that had been tugging at each of them dwindled into nothing, some of the able adults sprawled out as wolves. Echo himself had rolled over onto his back and Astrid was squirming happily on his furry belly, patting his downy fur and trying to hold on as he rocked slightly, mock shaking her.

Harry sat on the edge of the pool, feet hanging into the cool water as he watched Marrok leap in, scattering the children who squealed with glee and made a beeline for him. They all seemed to climb on him, trying to collectively dunk him under. No human words were needed here. Harry felt Fenrir's wolf settle behind him and leant back into the fur, feeling soft snuffling at his neck and smiling. Then the moon escaped the cover of cloud and Fenrir tipped his head back, howling to the sky above. One by one, everyone stopped and Harry watched, heard as their cries, their song joined with that of their alpha.

It was a moment of sheer nature, sheer animal comfort and he closed his eyes, enjoying every moment. Even the children were howling now, singing along with the others. Harry's human lips couldn't form the right sound, not right then, but he laid a hand on his stomach and hummed softly as the singing carried them all further toward serenity. When the music stopped he was filled with a peace that he wouldn't have been able to explain if he tried.

"Here to seek my aid already, Potter?" Snape drawled as Harry walked into his classroom. "Why it's only the start of your second week." He looked up from the stack of parchment he'd been reading through, probably unfortunate First Years' essays, Harry thought as he shut the door behind him and came to sit on the edge of one of the desks on the front row. Snape, evidently sensing something was off took a second look at him then sat back from his marking. "What reckless thoughts are parading through that otherwise empty mind then, Potter? What stupidity are you here for me to talk you out of?"

Harry scowled but knew better by now to take the bait. This was just how he and Snape communicated that they cared. It was a lot like how he and Draco communicated actually - he supposed it must be a Slytherin thing.

"Come now, Potter, you did infuriatingly well in our first lesson together last Friday. You brewed a passable potion and we did not rile each other, I would call that something of a miracle," Snape continued to prod.

Harry smirked in spite of himself. "Passable? You told the class you'd seen centaur urine that was closer to the Contraceptive Potion – which, by the way, was a very amusing private joke."

Snape's lips tightened in the way Harry had come to realise meant he was amused. "I took great enjoyment out of it," he agreed in the same disdainful drawl. "But one has to keep up appearances. You will get a fair grade whether I amuse myself at your expense or not." He set his quill down and folded his hands in front of him on the desk. "How may I help you, Potter? Is something concerning you?" There. There was the flicker of concern, of uneasiness and Harry could clearly see the progress they'd made, the connection they'd formed over the last few years. It was hidden before he knew it but it was there.

"I just don't know what I'm doing here, I s'pose," Harry admitted sheepishly. He didn't mean to, but his hand rested on his flat stomach without him realising and he saw Snape follow the motion. Embarassed, he rushed to add, "Am I even doing the right thing being here? I've got Kirian and it's not like I don't have anything to do at home. I'm not even sure what I want to do with myself if I manage to get my NEWTs."

"Ah, so your intent was to come here in hopes I would inform you what a fool you are being," Severus said blankly.

"I just…I've been back a week and I've already caused friction between Fenrir and me. Kirian gets really upset when I leave him in the mornings and I'm starting to puke at the sight of toast. Fyerhyde wants me to share my ability with her like and let her introduce me to her pack and the werewolf community and large and…" He growled in frustration, dragging his fingers through his hair.

"It is difficult certainly," Severus replied after a moment, regarding Harry with cool composure. "But since when has taking the hard route ever stopped you before? Your wolf and Kirian can adjust perfectly well. Not knowing what the future holds is no reason not to take the first step." He looked so like Dumbledore just then that Harry was struck dumb, staring at him like a gaping fish out of water. Severus continued, "Fyerhyde is a teacher. She should behave in a professional manner, not be hounding you to-"

"No," Harry said. "No it's… She only asked once. You can't blame her for asking for something I can give her it's just…the poltical side of things makes it not such a simple decision. I don't know what to do."

Severus rose from his seat and swept around the desk to stand before Harry. "Finish your NEWTs, do what you must to keep the balance between your home life and your own individuality and let the rest fall into place," he said as if it were as easy as breathing.

Harry frowned. "That's…pretty good advice, actually."

That smirk was back on the man's face. "You were expecting more vitriol, I suppose? My apologies for disappointing you, Potter. The worst that I can offer is that you are in danger of letting fear of the unknown and werewolf hormones control your future. Do not disappoint me by listening to either."

Lifting his chin, Harry regarded him levelly. Somehow, the git had managed to say what he needed to hear. "Will I still be able to take my Potions NEWT if I'm the size of a narwhal?" he asked.

Severus smirked. "You will find that all of the potions on our syllabus are not harmful to pregnant…people. You will do fine. I shall have to keep a close eye on you in the event of an explosion but do not let concern for your infant stop you. Your Defence Against the Dark Arts instructor should do the same for you." There was a moment, a visible hesitation in his eyes and then Snape added, in a strange sort of voice, "Your mother never let parenthood stop her ambitions or desires. Neither should you, Potter."

Harry's eyes widened. Even with their understanding, it was so rare for Snape to mention Lily. He liked it and smiled gratefully for this snippet of information, this glimmer of intimacy. "You're not going to let me have a peek at my score on my potion then?" he hedged, receiving a glare that did not quite reach Snape's eyes.

"Drip drip drop, little April shower," Harry hummed roughly, almost woefully under his breath as he tipped his head back to look at the grey heavens. They were darkening with an oncoming storm, Harry could smell its sharp freshness in the air. The little hand in his tightened its grip on him and Harry glanced down to see Kirian's bright green eyes on him, his face (flushed pink from the wind) stretched into a curious smile.

"What's that? I don't know that song," Kirian said brightly. This bright-eyed glee had kept hold of him since Fenrir had suggested he accompany them. His shy reserved little boy was getting hungrier for adventure each day, Harry thought, squeezing Kirian's hand as he looked up again at the unpleasant blackening clouds.

"It's a muggle song. I just heard it when I was a kid I s'pose. I don't remember all the words," Harry said, frowning as he tried to remember anymore. "Err….Drip, drip, drop little April shower, beating a tune as you fall all around," he tried again. "Something, something…pretty little pitter patter."

Kirian laughed, swinging off his arm and bounding ahead a few steps, staring up at the sky, arms spread wide as he turned in circles. "Because the raindrops hit the ground!" he exclaimed.

With his own steps slowed from looking skyward, Harry felt Fenrir at his back and was made aware of how clumsy his steps had been. That and Fenrir, Marrok, Raquelle and Larentia had nearly walked into him. He felt Fenrir's chuckle against the back of his neck and some of the apprehension, the nervous knots loosened in his stomach.

"Keep your eyes where you're walking Celestina Warbeck," Fenrir said gruffly, thick fingers brushing against the side of his now subtly rounded stomach. Harry flushed and fell into stride beside Fenrir. Kirian circled round their entire little group like a hippogriff in flight, leaping onto Marrok's back with what Harry supposed was meant to be a hippogriff's squawk.

The wind whipped across the steepening grass. Just in the distance the beaten track curved up between two hills. He supposed that was where they were heading. They'd apparated as close as they could but were having to walk the rest of the way. The closer they got, the more the scent of wolves filled his nostrils, uneasiness swelled. "Are you sure it was a good idea to bring Kirian?" he asked quietly, the overprotectiveness accelerated thanks to his condition.

Fenrir glanced back. Kirian had scrabbled up Marrok's back and was now partially hanging off his shoulders, partially being given a piggyback ride. "He asked to come," Fenrir said as if that was the end of it. But evidently, he sensed Harry's eyes still on him. "He needs to see the world, Harry. We're not walking into a battleground, we're walking in there as a pack."

Harry eyed Fenrir thoughtfully. He'd pressed to do something about his gift and Echo had suggested that if they wait a few months, if they wait until Harry was visibly pregnant, however obhorrent Harry's instincts would find that, it would help keep the other pack calm, more respectful of boundaries. 'Emotions run high where cubs are involved,' Echo had said, 'let's turn that to our advantage.'

Harry brushed his hand against his stomach, only slightly rounded but clearly visible in the shirt he wore now – on purpose of course, even though his instincts urged him to bolt in the other direction. The human in him had too much pride for that. He sighed. "I know I'm the one that wanted to do this, I'm not going back on that I just feel…uneasy, walking into strange territory that stinks of other wolves with Kirian, that's all."

A grin broke across Fenrir's lips. He seemed oddly pleased. "I do love it when the wolf in you comes out like that," he mused. But on sensing Harry's uncertainty he added, "Do you think any of you would be here if you were in any danger?"

"I s'pose not," Harry had to concede.

The path of trodden grass lead them down between the two hills, right to the bank of a huge lake. Even under a dark sky it looked stunning. It reminded Harry of Hogwarts. A similar kind of spring flowers were trying to bloom on the hillside and the same kind of birds seemed to be circling the trees on the far side of the lake. The path they were on circled the water all the way round and up to a great stone castle that was built into the cliffside.

"Wow," Harry breathed, awed by the sight of it. "They live there? That's their den?"

Fenrir snorted. "I told you, they think of themselves as werewolf royalty or something. A mere taster of their flashiness. Come on." He walked on ahead, leaving Harry confused for a moment as he moved to catch up. Fenrir was annoyed because he was impressed.

"Anyone can build a castle," Harry tried as he fell into step beside Fenrir again, brushing his fingers against Fenrir's when he got no response. "Our home, it's…" He thought of the stunning columns of magical light that reflected the phases of the sun and moon, of their protected valley that showed lush green no matter the season. "It's magic," was all he could say. It was starting to rain now. Harry felt the droplets run down the back of his neck and shivered, pulling the same fur cloak around him tight.

To his surprise, Fenrir's fingers brushed against his own in answer, before wrapping around them, so they were clasping his hand as they walked. As open and brazen as the pack were in front of each other, Fenrir was always so hesitant about displays of affection (that weren't also displays of supremacy) that the tiny, tender act startled Harry. He felt his cheeks heat and glanced up at him. "Are you seriously worried they're going to win me over or something?" Harry whispered for his ears only. "You're the father of my… We've been together for… I'm yours," he finished lamely.

The fingers around his squeezed gently. There was a long pause as they approached the end of the path and came to stand in front of two great oak doors that stood easily seven times taller than even Marrok. Harry stared up to the top of the castle, as far as he could see.

"You should've let me fuck you once more before we left," Fenrir murmured, releasing his hand reluctantly to bang hard on the doors. The knocking sound stretched out into a heavy echo. "You don't smell of me as strongly as you should."

Harry scoffed, pulling his cloak off again and tucking it into the pouch at his waist that Hermione had given him for Christmas. It had an undetectable expansion charm that made him smile every time he had need of it. It made looking after a child so much simpler. Everything was in there that they might need. The rain began to beat down heavier now but he didn't put the cloak back on. He knew Fenrir wanted them to see him, to smell him. Let them, if that'd make things easier. He wasn't the same embarrassed, awkward schoolboy he'd been when he'd faced Conall and the others.

There was a rumble of thunder above and then…

"Who goes there?" a gruff voice called down from the chalice.

Fenrir sneered. "You bloody well know who," he snapped. "Greyback. We know Fyerhyde told you we were coming so cut the pleasantries and let us in before the heavens open."

Nothing for a moment. Rain burst from the sky in a thick, tumultuous shower and Harry did flinch at the sharp, needling ferocity of it. He lifted his hand to the sky and cast an umbrella charm wide enough to shield them all. Fenrir glanced down at him, his blue eyes warm and admiring. Harry flushed. Fenrir always did like his effortless wandless magic. Large fingers smoothed his damp fringe back from his forehead and brushed against his scar. "To think you once didn't even know how to cast a wandless light charm."

"Dad's the strongest wizard since Dummeldord! The book Teddy has said so!" Kirian said gleefully from Marrok's shoulders, little legs flailing excitedly.

"Oh Lord," Harry said, cheeks burning slightly. He dragged his hand through the hair at the back of his neck. Fenrir laughed, just as the great doors before them groaned and drew backward slowly, opening to reveal a greying but robust looking man in the gateway. He surveyed them with a slightly inclined head, square shoulders and stocky build. He stood as tall as Fenrir and showed no signs of intimidation as Harry and the others moved inward.

The floor was paved with stone, weathered and buffed by time. The walls of the buildings were made from the same grey stonework as the outer shell of the castle, forming a village of dwellings that seemed to curve around the path all the way up to the keep high at the centre, raised up as if on a hill. Harry didn't need to think too hard to see where the alpha lived. It seemed the rain didn't reach them inside the castle walls, even though a glance upward showed the sky as clearly as it had beyond them. It was a similar magic to what protected the Valley from a lot of the elements, he supposed.

"Welcome, Fenrir Greyback," the man said as the doors closed behind them. He turned his head to look at Harry, casting his gaze up and down him. Harry straightened, glaring defiantly.

"Alpha Numero. Praeditos. Harry Potter," the man said and offered his hand to Harry. "I am Alpha Dromon's first son, Kear. Welcome."

Harry took his hand and shook it firmly, even as Fenrir tensed beside him. The whole point of this was that everyone would be more wary, more respectful of boundaries while he was like this. They couldn't back out now. "Thanks for seeing us," he said evenly, glancing up to the castle at the top of the gradual sloping road, surrounded by all the houses. "Errr, I guess you know why we're here?"

Kear smiled slightly. His face was made of softer lines than Fenrir's, worn with the beginnings of wrinkles. He must've been a fair bit older than Fenrir then, Harry thought.

"Praeditos, gifted," Kear said. "Yes we know why you came. Fyerhyde has informed us." He cast his gaze over them all, eyes resting on Fenrir for a moment before he stepped back, gesturing with his hand up the road ahead that wound out of sight. "If you'd come this way? It's a bit of a wallk I'm afraid."

"I'm not that pregnant yet," Harry said, uncomfortable at the weight of those eyes on his stomach.

That small smile was his answer again, his only answer as Kear lead the way up the winding road. It carried them up through an expansive archway carved of the same stone as everything else. There was an opulent courtyard there before a set of more modest doors beyond some steps. Steps where a man and two women stood. The man looked so much like Kear that it was impossible to not know who he was.

As they came to a halt, Harry felt a little hand slide into his and glanced down to see Kirian at his side, wide green eyes focussed on the alpha and the women beside him. "Dad, is he an alpha too?" he whispered. Harry raised his eyes to the man now descending the steps to meet them, his hand coming up to cup Kirian's head, brushing comfortingly against his hair.

"Yeah, to a different pack," he muttered in answer. He could not help but notice Fenrir's eyes were trained on Alpha Dromon, a mixture of respect but also warning. Harry wondered if he should do the same, but thought the action betrayed uneasiness, fear which he didn't want to show. Instead he looked down to Kirian again as if the rest of the world didn't matter.

"Is he stronger than Alpha?" Kirian whispered.

Harry smirked. "Not in the slightest," he replied without hesitation, hearing Fenrir give a small grunt. When Harry straightened, he saw Dromon was right in front of them now, clapping Fenrir on the shoulder.

"It's been decades, Greyback," Dromon said, "I don't think I've seen you since the Hunt were at large."

Fenrir squeezed the man's shoulder in return. It wasn't like the slap on the shoulder the Weasleys sometimes gave Harry. It was like a hard, firm handshake, meant to make a statement. "I was much younger then," Fenrir said as they released each other. "And much less pretty."

"I've heard of your exploits though through our connections with the Wizarding World," Dromon replied with a smirk, glancing at Harry. "Yours and your mate's. Defeating Dark Lords, culling rogues that step out of line, reforming the regulations on werewolves…" He didn't touch Harry as he'd done Fenrir, but he did give a small bow, as if Harry were royalty. Perhaps, in some eyes, he was. That made him even more uncomfortable as the man met his gaze.

"Harry Potter, it's an honour," he intoned, his voice more refined than it had been when he'd spoken to Fenrir. His nostrils visibly twitched and Harry knew he was scenting him, inhaling the smell of breeding sub. Harry lifted his chin in defiance and waited. Those eyes flicked to his stomach but he did not mention it. "And who is this?" Dromon asked, looking at Kirian.

Harry stroked Kirian's hair gently "Kirian Potter Greyback."

"Pleasant to meet you," the man said smoothly. Kirian fidgeted.

"I'm the Alpha's son," he said, his words challenging but his voice wavering a little. Pride still swelled in Harry's chest. it was more than he'd expected.

Dromon chuckled. "A feat indeed," he replied. "But it is who your mother is that makes you special."

Harry stiffened. Kirian blinked curiously. "I don't have a mother," he said, tilting his head to look at Harry. "Only my Alpha and my Dad."

"Of course," Dromon said, focussing on Harry contemplatively. Harry's face was a hard mask that Snape would have been proud of. "My apologies, it has been decades since Praeditos have walked among our pack. You must be aware of how unique you are."

"Yes," Harry said, his tone betraying nothing. "I'm aware. That's why I'm here."

Everything in the coutyard fell silent. He swore he felt a flicker of pride radiating from Fenrir, evidently pleased at putting this man in his place before he had chance to stray. The women behind Dromon seemed shocked, their faces riveted to Harry. Harry inhaled slowly. Dromon, however, seemed pleased with his bluntness.

"Quite the find," Dromon said, "if we had been aware of your existence before Greyback claimed you-"

"He didn't claim me," Harry said sharply, "I chose him. If you'd tried to stake a claim on me, you'd likely have ended up the same as Conall and the others."

"The nerve!" One of the women hissed. She stepped forward and Harry felt every member of his pack tense. A low growl rumbling in Fenrir's throat.

"Stay your sensitivity," Dromon said to her, eyes riveted to Harry. "Is it just your condition that makes you bold like a cornered mountain cat or is this your normal temperament?"

Harry's lips parted to answer but Fenrir beat him to it.

"This is just Harry," he said, sounding pleased.

It was true, Harry supposed. Fenrir liked to call him 'gobby' and even 'spirited' and with the baby growing inside him, it only made him more snappy. More likely to lash out when forced into situations such as these when the wolf in him wanted to be as small and inconspicuous as possible.

"Phenomenal," Dromon murmured, awed, studying Harry and then the slight protrusion of his stomach before stepping back. "We have set a feast for lunch anticipating your arrival, please come this way." And with that he lead them up the stone steps. Harry felt his pack close in around him and Fenrir and had to wonder if things were going to stay as amicable as they'd anticipated.

To Be Continued…