Second to last chapter my dears :( One more after this. But I have decided I will be writing a nice long one-shot for Echo and Draco next so it's not quite the end.


Grey Wolf

Chapter Seven

Draco rolled his head on his neck and leant back so his head rested on the edge of the bed. He sat on the floor beside it, surrounded by a sea of scrunched up, rejected versions of the letter he'd spent the last hour trying to draft. He scowled furiously, scribbling out his most recent sentence and starting again. "Bloody, sodding..." he began to grumble, before a warm voice sliced through his muttering.

"You've been busy," Echo mused, shutting the door to the den behind him and coming toward him. He stepped carefully in the gaps of floor showing through the litter and crouched down in front of Draco, who continued to write. "Mmm," Echo murmured softly, snatching the quill out of Draco's hand. Draco's head shot up, his glare murderous, mouth open ready to spill bile. Those warm eyes stopped him, however and he swallowed. Silent. This man had that power over him, could sweep aside his anxiety or anger, all of it with a flutter of his eyes.

"When you scowl," Echo began, smiling fondly, "You get a little crease here." He brushed the feather of the refined quill between Draco's brows illustratively and then trailed it down, caressing his cheekbone, sharp jaw, lips. "You smell upset."

Draco snorted, closing his eyes and letting his head tip back fully onto the edge of the bed once more. "Not upset," he protested with a little sigh, "just…frustrated. I need to reply to the Ministry with an outline for my proposal. But I need to word it so that they cannot find fault in it or else they'll continue the same argument we've been having for months – finding fault in everything I–" His words cut short as he opened his eyes, finding Echo on the bed, face hovering over his upside down. That smile was breath-taking.

Warm lips slid over his, fingers brushing his jaw, teasing at his throat and his hairline, his cheeks. Draco breathed roughly into that mouth, dropping the parchment in his hand and reaching up to hold Echo to him, groaning into him. A soft growl sounded against his lips in answer, roughened by the moon coming in the next few days. Draco huffed back and kissed harder, turning on his knees so he could press his tongue into that mouth at the correct angle. He climbed onto the bed without breaking the connection of their lips.

"Missed you," Echo whispered, gripping his hair tight and rolling him onto his back. Draco bit at his jaw, pushing back. Echo laughed breathlessly, the sound torn between amusement and approving arousal. "My Draco who wants the earth and won't stop until he gets it."

"You make me sound like a brat," Draco murmured, trailing lips down as he tugged open Echo's shirt, brushing his chest with biting kisses. Echo's fingers knotted in his hair and tugged back so Draco's face was visible, throat a tight, stunning line of alabaster skin.

"I've always known who you are, Draco Malfoy," Echo said, voice greedy and husky, eyes tinted with gold. "You're ambitious and hungry. You know what you want and I don't ever want you to be any different. No matter how big our family gets or how old you grow."

Draco's silver eyes flashed and he slid up, until he was straddling Echo's hips, fingertips dragging over Echo's shoulders. He cocked his head to regard him, hair tousled from Echo's grip. "Do you know what I want right now?" he demanded roughly. No sooner than Echo's lips opened to reply, however, than a soft cry came from the other room. They both froze, then Draco slumped, rolling off of Echo and flinging an arm over his eyes.

"I'll get her," Echo said, laughing huskily in Draco's ear and kissing it before slipping off the bed. As he vanished into the other room, there was a knock on the den door.

"Come in, come in," Draco called out impatiently without moving an inch. The door pushed open.

"Errr, am I interrupting?" Harry asked from the doorway.

"No, my daughter is, with impeccable timing as always," Draco sighed, pulling himself into an upright position to regard Harry. "Can I help you?"

Harry seemed thoughtful for a moment. Echo stepped back into the room with a grizzly Astrid on his hip, who he passed to Draco. She quietened as she nuzzled her face into his neck. Both of them seemed to relax and Harry smiled as he considered them. "Maybe I can help you?" he suggested with that ludicrous grin on his face that made Draco despair at times. "I was going to ask if you wanted to go to Shae with me but…maybe I could take Astrid for a few hours? Maybe give you two a break?"

Draco stiffened. Harry didn't have to ask to know what he was feeling. It'd be the first time Draco passed Astrid over to someone else for more than half hour. He smiled knowingly and stepped forward when Astrid glanced up at him with big blue eyes. "Hey, princess," he said, holding Draco's gaze briefly as he pulled the little girl into his arms. She beamed, wrapping her arm round his neck, her little legs resting on his swollen stomach. She rubbed one foot against it and a soft thump from within answered her.

"Baby," he said instructively. She smiled, stunning as always and bounced eagerly in his arms.

"Abah!" she squeaked.

Draco smirked up at them uncertainly. "She's mine, Potter," he said lightly, "You have to wait another two weeks or so for your next one." He brushed his fingers over Astrid's toes distractedly but there was no bite to his tone.

"Oh, I know who she belongs to alright, why do you think I call her princess?" Harry laughed softly, offering Draco a lingering requesting look before heading to the door. "I won't be too long. You two just…" he didn't need to finish his sentence. He shut the door behind him.

Draco felt Echo sit down behind him and leant back into his heat. Both of his mate's arms wrapped around him and he closed his eyes, willing the low throb of panic to silence inside him. He wasn't a neurotic father; he could let her go for a few hours. Potter, well, he trusted him with his life…

"What do you want to do?" Echo asked, his voice warm and husky against Draco's ear. Draco tilted his head into it and sighed.

"Keep myself busy and not let the instincts control me while she's away – if Potter can do it I can. I'm still a wizard as well as a werewolf, am I not?" he replied, turning his head to catch Echo's subtle smile out of the corner of his eye. "Perhaps we could…enjoy each other as we haven't in a while?"

Echo chuckled. "Appealing as that sounds I didn't mean immediately, I meant…in general." He gestured to the mess of discarded parchment all around them. "Beyond me and Astrid. You're not just a pretty face."

Draco snorted, sprawling out on the bed and staring up at the ceiling, until Echo leant over him, staring at him indulgently. "I've been thinking for some time that it'd be a shame to let my inheritance go to waste, squandered on one of the 'beneficial' causes my father wants me to back to gain status, as he's done all his life. He's always fancied himself a gentleman of leisure, you know." He'd long ago abandoned any longing to be like his father. "I've been thinking a lot about the schooling the children get here in the Valley."

Echo hummed softly, signalling that he was listening. He smoothed his hand across Draco's collarbone and shoulder, thumb brushing lightly against the mark he'd given him there at the place where collarbone met shoulder. Draco stretched and smiled indulgently.

"You've been getting more and more involved with Accalia and his lessons," Echo said thoughtfully.

"I want to set up a primary school – one for purebloods, half-bloods, werewolves, muggleborns - any children showing signs of magi. A place where they can learn about each other before they go to Hogwarts or Beauxbatons or wherever else."

Echo's eyes fluttered with brief surprise. He leant on his elbow at Draco's side now, seeming momentarily lost for words. "That's very…worldly of you. Impartial," he said gently.

Draco scowled. "You don't have to sound so surprised."

With a small laugh, Echo brushed his thumb against the frown line between Draco's brows, allowing his hand to cup his fair cheek. "I'm not surprised that you're not a prejudiced little pureblood, but being unprejudiced is not the same as wanting to unite everyone far earlier than eleven years of age. You've never expressed a desire to bring peace and prosperity."

"I don't believe that's something one man can achieve," Draco said haughtily, "but perhaps if children grow up together and learn more about each other it is possible for the future. I cringe to think of the ignorant brat I was raised to be. I'd like to spare my daughter and others that upbringing."

Echo's mouth twitched. "As long as I don't lose my little braggart who holds my most base instincts in high disdain," he said fondly.

Draco tried not to betray his smirk. "Braggart? Indeed. Nothing so gauche."

Echo laughed, cupping the back of his neck and pulling him up so Draco sat astride him again, his hair a tousled blond halo above him. Echo's hands slid over his trouser-clad thighs as he said, "I know that you enjoy helping Accalia, but you've never seemed to express a desire to be a formal teacher either."

Draco did smirk then, resting his hands on Echo's bare chest. "I don't think I could handle being a teacher as such. But I've always fancied myself as a senile old headmaster. I think I would do old and worldly quite well. Even if it will take many years for the werewolf in me to allow me to grow old."

Kissing him soundly, Echo massaged their lips together, threading the fingers of one hand through Draco's hair and tugging open his shirt with the other. He tasted Draco's breathless gasp and kept kissing, tongue flicking out to meet his and bringing hot, fluid pleasure. He arched up a little to meet Draco's body as Draco leant down to meet his. As perfect as it had been the first time and every time after that.

When at last they broke apart, Draco looked glorious above him, the same as he'd been that first time they'd laid eyes on each other but also so different. "I can't wait to see you grow grey and senile," Echo said mischievously.

"You first, old man," Draco countered aloofly, thumbs ghosting over his lover's hard stomach. "You mentioned something earlier about finishing what we started?" He let his thumb catch on the waistband of Echo's trousers, perfectly manicured nail teasing lightly at the flesh below, before he tugged it down. "I do love you, you know?" he said almost absently.

Echo surged upward as violently as if he'd been prodded with an electric current. He caught Draco's face and bore him back into the bed...

***CENSORED. FOR FULL SCENE PLEASE FOLLOW THE LINKS ON MY PROFILE***


"You didn't need to make a special trip for this, Harry," Eithne said as Kirian set the books down on her table for Harry. The old woman stroked Kirian's hair gratefully before pulling him into her side for a one-armed hug. "You'll make much more use out of the books than I," she added.

Harry smiled at the warm sight of Kirian and Eithne together, sitting down in one of the armchairs and arranging Astrid so she could sit on his lap without being sat on his stomach. She seemed amazed with the stuffed yellow pigmy puff Kirian had generously shared with her before they'd set off, blissfully content for the moment. "It's fine, Draco and Snape have made a sort of…enciphered copy. It makes sense of the witch's little encrypted paper trail; you know for the future." He watched as Eithne detached herself from Kirian to run her wrinkled fingers over the aged books.

"The Village of Shae always worked with the werewolves," Eithne said as she took the books over to the shelf in the nook beside the chimney breast. "We were part of them in a way. Unlike the rest of the wizarding community we respected and valued them as greatly as our own kind. We taught our children and their children that we were all the same underneath. Understanding them was my life's passion even before my son was discovered to have the recessive gene."

Kirian had pulled the little wooden toy train he liked so much out of the cupboard, one of his grandfather's favourite toys, incidentally, and he was now pulling it along the floor making 'choo choo' noises. Astrid kept craning her head to watch him and Harry smirked, setting her down on the carpet and watching her crawl urgently to play with him, eyes and mouth wide with eagerness.

As she reached him, Kirian hesitated for a moment. He stared between her and the train. He was a good boy, but still, it must've been hard to share. Harry was guilty of not encouraging it an awful lot, plagued by memories of never having his own toys that weren't broken cast offs of Dudley. He swallowed as he watched Kirian hold the little train for a moment, before sliding it along the ground toward Astrid. She reached for it, hand grabbing quickly.

"No," Kirian said and Harry tensed in his chair, not really knowing what to do. He found he didn't have to do anything, however, as Kirian laid his hand over Astrid's and helped her push it along as he'd been doing. It was the simplest yet most beautiful sight. Astrid seemed a little confused but quite happy as long as her hand was on it and Kirian seemed quite content as she made a babbling attempt at the 'choo choo' noise he'd been making. Relieved and smiling slightly, Harry looked back to find Eithne sitting in front of him on the other chair, watching him thoughtfully.

"Sorry," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "It's still hard sometimes, sitting back and seeing if you've raised them right or if your own…experiences have made you make a pig's ear out of it."

Eithne chuckled. "I think every parent feels that way, Harry."

Harry's mouth twisted. "Fenrir never messes up like I do, he always knows what to do with them."

"He was raised with and around children and is as such very well adjusted – in this matter," Eithne said plainly. "Just as you are better adjusted to other things than he. Isn't that why you complete each other so perfectly?"

Harry glanced to where Astrid had let Kirian have the train back and was now pushing it round her in circles as fast as he could, making frantic train noises. Astrid giggled delightedly. He'd be ok, brother or sister, Harry thought, hand resting on his stomach. There was no Dark Lord or monster or danger to fight. This was just a normal thing to worry about and they'd get through it just fine.

"Where did you find the Original Witch's texts?" Harry asked, rolling the yellow pigmy puff toy over and over in his hands. "Everyone else seemed to think they were lost."

Eithne nodded. "They were. When my son and everyone else were lost, when my only remaining grandchild went in search of revenge, I suppose you might say I searched for them in the hope that I could rebuild the future." Her lined face crinkled warmly, with just a twist of sadness. "The books were not together, of course. It took me many years to find them. Many dead ends and false trails. I'm not even sure where I started now, after all these years. It was a werewolf legend that the original witch and her mate were buried near the Standing Stones of the Orkney Islands. I started my journey there, found a shrewd clue carved into one of the stones, one that eventually lead me to their true resting place and then it seemed to grow from there until I had all of their works."

Harry nodded, he thought he could understand. "But you didn't know what the spells and poems and lyrics meant?" That he found hard to comprehend; Eithne he'd always felt was as wise as Dumbledore or old McGonagall.

"They were not meant for my eyes. Only for yours. The rest of us, myself, Draco, your Professor Snape, we could have all gotten the clues but only one who carried her blood could be the one to pull them all together and make sense of them. Such is her magic, made so no one could use it or have chance to abuse it but the one that carried her gift."

"So you had to wait for me, or someone like me," Harry said.

Eithne beamed. "Yes. I had hoped you would come in my lifetime. It was an extra blessing that you would rescue Fenrir from himself so that he could be a part of this." She glanced at Kirian and then looked to Harry's stomach. "Rebuild our family as well as the future."

If called on it later, he would blame the moon, perhaps the hormones, but he felt emotion well up in him a little as he gave a small nod and smile. "Happy to be part of it," he said, just as Kirian bounced over to Eithne and scrambled into her lap. "Tell me about how you found the books?" he asked eagerly.

With that, Harry pushed to his feet and scooped up Astrid just as she began to crawl toward the fire. "I'll be back in a minute. Just want to get some more Calendula Oil from the shop." He hadn't even gotten to the end of Eithne's little front garden before he bumped, literally into Remus and Teddy.

"Harry," Remus said lightly, squeezing Teddy's hand. He looked concerned, his face lined with apprehension, while Teddy was smiling happily. "I… That is, I smelt you. I wanted to speak with you about bringing Teddy to tomorrow's moon."

Harry blinked, glancing from Teddy to Remus. The former looked bouncing with excitement while Remus, he looked worried. Harry supposed he could understand that – especially with how neurotic he was when it came to Kirian's safety at times. He smiled tightly, smoothing fingers through Teddy's hair before meeting Remus' gaze again. Astrid babbled on his hip, effectively breaking the tension and Harry laughed. "He'll be great, Remus. I know you're worried, I get it but you've been a part of it for years, you know there's no place safer for him."

Remus nodded, looking wistful now. "I suppose a part of me will always have expectations of my son's life based on my own childhood," he looked down at Teddy, "but he is part of the pack too. He has been for some time. It was foolish of me to try and hide him from what he is. If you'd had more time to come to terms with what you were it would've made things a lot simpler."

Regarding the closest thing to his father that he had left, Harry nodded. "And Tonks, she's…?"

"It was a shock but she is happy with our life, with the pack with…everything. She is looking forward to tomorrow, I am ashamed to say the reticence is purely with me."

"Well, after tomorrow, you'll know there's nothing to worry about," Harry assured him.


There was a low hum of anticipation he same as there was every moon as the moon approached the horizon from beneath. As dusk approached, Harry unbuttoned Kirian's shirt and set it on the side, letting the boy practically leap out of his own trousers. Even now there was a prickle of oddness but he knew that that lay with him alone and he pulled off his own trousers but elected to keep the overlong tunic shirt on. He felt Fenrir's heat long before those hands slid around him to ruck up his shirt and touch his swollen stomach, the kiss on his neck. He turned into it, just breathing for a moment.

"You know the wolf likes to see and feel your skin," Fenrir grumbled, mouthing his neck gently.

"Yucky," Kirian grimaced, hurriedly glancing away from them.

Harry smirked and turned to face Fenrir, effectively ending their spooning. "Don't start," he said to Fenrir without any bite to his voice. "You know how I feel about it when I'm like this." He punctuated his words by gesturing to his midriff and Fenrir scowled for a moment.

"Isn't this time around meant to be about…accepting yourself? Doing things you should've done the first time?" he hedged.

Harry hesitated. Compromise, he told himself and headed toward the bed. He shrugged off his shirt and pulled Fenrir's fur cloak round his shoulders. It was a bit warm to wear it, especially with the heat of the moon burning through his veins but once he was out in the cool night air he'd be able to bear it. He met Fenrir's eyes and knew he understood. He'd wear this until the moon took over and he wasn't so worried about awkwardness any longer. He loved the way that mouth twisted into his favourite smile.

"Let's go find Remus, I know he'll be panicking," Harry said, grasping Kirian's hand and heading out into the Valley, Ghost at Kirian's side and whirling and bounding excitedly until Kirian tore away from Harry and ran ahead to chase after him. Harry smirked as he watched them, like two wolf cubs bounding in the dirt. They moved through the pack to find Remus, Tonks and Teddy at the far side and to his utter surprise, as Kirian and Ghost, breathless and giddy came to Harry's side, Fenrir stepped forward and grasped Remus' shoulder firmly.

There was a long pause and Fenrir gave a small grunt. "Don't be afraid," he said gruffly, almost sharply but Harry understood the concern there and watched as Tonks began pulling an excited looking Teddy 's shirt off. The children carrying the recessive gene and those that were born werewolves did not transform, but felt the pull of instincts just as Harry did. They too would lose themselves to the freedom the moon brought. He'd thought Teddy would be afraid, or at least uncertain but it was clearer now than ever that all this time, he'd felt left out of this important ritual their odd family shared. As far as he was concerned, tonight he would be crossing that final boundary. Things had a way of working out in the end, he realised and stroked Kirian's hair gently.

"Dad, I don't feel good," Kirian complained softly, his voice almost an animalistic whine. Harry tensed. Both he and Kirian were used to him feeling a little emotional and unsteady as the moon approached but he'd never complained like this, with that odd tone to his voice. He frowned, kneeling in front of Kirian and instinctively brushing his hand over his forehead under his messy fringe. Burning hot, but then, he always was before the moon rose.

"Like how?" he asked, "Did you eat too much?" Out of the corner of his eye he saw Fenrir was distracted talking in a low voice to Remus, but Tonks was glancing at him worriedly.

"My skin itches and my…my teeth hurt and my bones hurt," Kirian whimpered, gripping Ghost's fur. He clenched his eyes shut for a moment but when he opened them again, Harry felt the bottom fall out of his stomach. The usually vivid emerald eyes staring back at him were brightest amber. In that instant, Fenrir was kneeling at Kirian's side, gripping his neck gently and tilting his head to the side, leaning in to sniff. When he drew back he did not look at Harry.

"You're alright," Fenrir said, voice hoarse, "More than alright. It's nothing bad, son."

Kirian blinked owlishly and Harry swallowed. "What do you mean?" Harry breathed.

"There hasn't been a born wolf that changed this young since–"

"What do you mean, change?" Harry whispered, voice barely audible. "I thought when he was twelve or–"

"Sometimes it happens before," Fenrir said in a soothing, soft grumble, the one that reached through Harry's senses and made him feel light-headed. "You heard the other pack mention it, didn't you? When my alpha was alive it was said that it meant great strength."

Kirian looked anxiously between the two of them. "I don't want to change," he sobbed, releasing Ghost's fur and stepping forward into Harry's arms, wrapping his arms round Harry's neck. "Don't want to hurt."

"C'mere," Fenrir said, pulling the boy to stand in front of him, gripping his wrists in large hands. A prickle ran up Harry's spine and he new the moon was imminent. He swallowed, panic thick in his throat as he watched the most important people in his world stare into each other's eyes. He saw Fenrir's jaw tense and knew he was fighting his own change.

"Look at me," Fenrir said firmly, huskily to his son and Kirian sniffled but obeyed. "It's going to twinge for a moment then it'll be fine. You see me do it every month. Don't look away from me." At that moment, a tremor ran through the pack and Harry saw each of them drop, their bodies morphing under the will of the moonlight spreading across the grass. Remus too, folded in on himself, a few feet away from Teddy and Tonks now but Harry was frozen to the spot.

It was all happening too quickly, Kirian was shaking as he stared into Fenrir's eyes, as Fenrir struggled to stave off his own transformation and then suddenly Kirian crumpled. A low whine ripped out of his throat that was pure wolf before hair and bone and shape changed. A yelp sounded and Harry felt bile rising in his throat as the bones snapped back into shape until a dusty grey, almost white wolf tumbled to the ground.

Harry scooped him up, cradling the little cub easily in one arm. He locked eyes with Fenrir, saw the moment his control snapped like a stretch of elastic. Fenrir stepped back out of reach and the change ripped through him, more violent than Harry had ever seen it. He cried out with a snarl of pain and his body arched with a jolt as if struck by lightning. It sent him sprawling to the dirt and everything in the clearing went still. On the ground, the disorientated silver wolf shuddered and staggered to his feet, all eyes on him. Harry, overcome with the moon himself now, swallowed, a rush of foreboding in his throat.

His mate looked bewildered, pained, weak and all the more volatile for that weakness. Like a defensive teenager ready to lash out. Harry, still kneeling on the ground, watched as the silver wolf took in his surroundings, the throbbing pain still evident through their connection. Gold eyes fixed on the little boy nearby, Teddy blinked, rooted to the spot where he stood in front of Tonks, naked as the day he was born and blinking big eyes up at the alpha as he approached. There was a brief moment, a flash of uncertainty and Remus shifted on his paws, grumbling cautiously.

Fenrir's head snapped up, giving a bark of warning. But instead of lashing out, Fenrir's large paw came up, planting in the small of Teddy's bare, delicate back and pulling him in, almost protectively. Brilliant gold eyes gave a look to Remus and Tonks, before that great muzzle dipped to sniff and brush against the head of shocking silver hair. Teddy fidgeted, unafraid but clearly eager for freedom. The side of that muzzle grazed his cheek, accepting him and then Teddy was allowed to stagger backward toward his parents. This seemed to be the moment that broke the tension. The pack began to move again, like musical statues set free and all the life and warmth of the moon was breathed back into the clearing.

The Alpha turned toward Harry and Kirian, tail swaying from side to side. The little cub looked up from his cradled position in Harry's arms, vivid green eyes ringed with an amber glow. When Fenrir came to stand over them both, Kirian wriggled, little fluffy white tail wagging. Harry heard a soft, subtle whine from the powerful beast standing over them. His body melted as he nuzzled into him, mussing his hair with a snuffling nose before leaning down to do the same to Kirian.

When Kirian struggled again, yipping excitedly this time, Harry clung to him a moment longer, heart tight before he was met with bright gold-green eyes and a feeling lapping at his and his mate's connection that told him he knew what to do. He half-heartedly released the bundle of fur and watched Kirian skitter across the grass, like a baby horse unused to his legs. He stumbled, bounded, rolled between Fenrir's legs, tongue lolling and tail flailing furiously.

Fenrir lowered his head, letting Kirian paw and lick excitedly at his face and latch onto his neck with useless little teeth, play biting. A big paw came down to swat him lightly on the side and Kirian rolled over onto his back. The easy comfort, the feeling of family settled around them fully at last as Harry cocked his head, one hand curled over his stomach while Fenrir bathed Kirian's exposed pink belly – only briefly, before the tiny cub was off again, bounding toward Teddy, whom he practically bowled over in his excitement to greet him.

Harry ached but in a glorious way. As the moon had greeted his little cub for the first time he'd been filled with helplessness that he loathed, an inability to help his young through pain. Now he was imbued with the knowledge that just perhaps, that was alright, that this was the way it was meant to be. He couldn't protect his cubs from everything, he and Fenrir could only prepare them and when the moment came, let them scamper off across the grass to feel the wind through their fur and the exhilaration of life beyond their parents' shadows.

Bittersweet pride filled him and Harry closed his eyes as Fenrir butted his head against his neck, evidently feeling the mood shift. Harry growled softly and let himself lean back against Fenrir's warm fur as his mate lay down behind him. Kirian and Teddy seemed to be entangled with Vilkas, the two wolf cubs rolling across the dirt and chasing Teddy, who was giving as good as he got despite his lack of fur and paws. Remus was sprawled across the grass with Tonks, seeming calmer, happier than he'd been in a long time. The moon was bright and full, encircled by a halo of light in a dark navy sky, almost completely clear of cloud now.

A large tongue lapped at Harry's arm and he gave a small grumble of pleasure, rolling onto his side to face Fenrir so that cold muzzle could nose between the folds of his cloak and press against his stomach. Most likely awake due to the excitement of the moon, the cub inside gave a brushing swipe to his insides and Harry stroked on the opposite side to Fenrir's questing nose. Caring less now with his inhibitions vanished along with his conscious thought, Harry shrugged off the over-warm cloak so he could feel more of Fenrir's fur against his skin and closed his eyes. Everything was good.


"I just don't understand what triggers it, that's all," Harry said as he walked at Fenrir's side, Ghost and Kirian thick as thieves as they ran a good few feet ahead. The forest of Shae was always calm at this time of year. The summer heat made the other creatures lazy and languid, sprawling out uselessly in hopes of catching a hint of breeze. Sweat beaded down between Harry's shoulder blades and he wiped his brow with the back of his hand. It was warm, but surely not this warm? Kirian and Fenrir seemed to be embracing the climate comfortably enough. He was used to unnatural heat bothering him on the days preceding the moon, but with it gone, he'd thought he'd be feeling more himself.

"No one knows what triggers it," Fenrir explained. "It's different for every born cub. Usually it's not until after they hit puberty but it can vary. My alpha said it was a sign of the strength of your magical core." He glanced ahead to Kirian, carefree and oblivious as he should be. "I know you want the answers to everything but sometimes you can't explain it. Nature just…is," Fenrir said, brushing his knuckles against Harry's stomach through his loose cotton shirt. "Some things are no more predictable than when you'll whelp. You can't control everything. You just have to let things happen sometimes." His blue eyes sparkled in the dazzling summer sun as he regarded Harry. "I think you realised that last night."

Harry snorted and said nothing, but he knew Fenrir would understand that, yes, he had, whether his pride allowed him to say it or not. "I suppose I'm not a complete failure as a dad if he's so well-adjusted," Harry mused. No matter what the Dursleys, Voldemort, the rogue wolves and everyone else had done, they hadn't fucked him up completely. He was still him. Even if he was boiling hot. He scrubbed at the back of his neck. "Can we go this way?" he asked, already heading in that direction, toward the sound and smell of water.

"Kirian!" Fenrir called and gestured with his hand. Kirian gave a visible sniff and beamed, bolting through the trees with Ghost and out of sight. Harry tensed briefly but let him go. He could smell him, the pool was only just ahead and he had Ghost. It was easier than it'd once been to let go.

When they finally reached the water, Kirian was pulling his shirt and shorts off quickly. Harry smirked and followed suit. It felt good to step into the water. He groaned aloud, wading in until he was deep enough that when he sat, he was submerged to the neck. He felt so tired and aching – everywhere. He watched Fenrir transform, watched Kirian and Ghost jump into the water after him and closed his eyes. The sound of water splashing and playful growls a balm to his agitated nerves. He felt on edge, fidgety even in the soothing cool water. The sun was so hot on the back of his neck. He grumbled softly, scrambling out of the water, his mate hadn't noticed but it didn't matter. He slipped into the trees, snagging his discarded clothing as he went.

The breeze was nice on his wet skin, he relished it as he stepped through the warm grass, searching the ground as he followed the path of the way they'd come. He'd seen it on their way here…

At last, the fork in the river that twisted through the forest was in sight. Had his right mind been with him, he would have felt a shiver upon seeing the place he'd visited in the limbo-like state after Voldemort had killed him. Now it only held a flicker of peaceful nostalgia. He turned his head, spying the large curve of an ancient tree root that had risen far above the ground. He moved toward it, easing to his knees and digging with his palms. The warm dirt moved easily, the magic humming in his palms easily scooping it aside and drying the dip in the ground that was left behind.

He glanced around, neck stretched to survey the area before sliding inside, taking the soft clothing with him. He longed for the soft fur he'd left behind in his den and whined softly. Curling up under the shelter of the broad reaching root, he closed his eyes. After a moment, the cloak he longed for zipped into sight and he scrabbled for it with hasty fingers, pulling it over him even though it was hot. The magic in him reared up without being summoned and a satisfying coolness swept over him under the material. He was hidden from head to foot and cool inside the earth. Safe. Ready.

"Harry?!" He heard a voice and shifted, turning over onto his other side to burrow his head deeper into the fur, the cloth.

"Harry?! Bloody answer me!" The voice was louder now. Harry could hear and smell his mate. Still too far away to risk making a noise though. He couldn't be discovered here. Then, there was a soft snuffling at the nape of his neck and Harry shifted, turning his head to see Ghost's head poking under the blanket. He hummed softly, dragging fingers over Ghost's ears appreciatively, he made a space for him in the hollow with him but Ghost seemed to hesitate. Harry whined. His body was aching, pulsing with waves of pain and he wanted comfort. Wanted safety.

Suddenly his fur cloak was being whipped from his head. He pulled Ghost down hard into the hollow with him and bared his teeth at the assailant above, snarling and blinking hard, momentarily blinded by the bright sky. A sharp growl sounded back and Harry stopped at the sound. His mate's human face hovered above him, fingers clenched around his blanket.

Instincts flickered through Fenrir like a fire being ignited by a match. The sight and smell of his mate's approaching whelp made his own nature burn hotly beneath the surface. But not now. Not yet. He reached down, cupping the side of Harry's chest and brushing a thumb across a darkened nipple firmly. Harry hissed in pain and a thin milky discharge followed in the wake of Fenrir's rough thumb.

"Shit," he snarled, looking down at his pale mate with encroaching panic. He put the flat of his palm against his forehead, feeling him heating up and pulled a squinted eyelid up. Gold eyes stared up at him reproachfully. His mate curled up tighter around Ghost as another ripple of pain pulsed through him. No. "Not here," he said, voice roughened as his own wolf clawed at his insides. He glanced around. It wasn't safe. They had to get back into the den. Fuck. "Kirian?!" he called. The boy was nowhere in sight.

"Bloody hell… Kirian!" Nothing. With a final glance at his mate, Fenrir pulled the cloak back over him and covered him carefully, before letting the change take him. As a wolf, he moved to the edge of the tree, just away from Harry and marked it with his scent, hoping it'd be enough just for now as he flew off after his son's scent.

Harry curled up as pain licked at his insides, something shifting inside him. Ghost snuggling closer in comfort against his stomach. A low whine left Harry's lips and then, in the distance, he heard a deep, resonating howl. The sound of the river running nearby was a calming melody, reminding him of something, of rightness. He closed his eyes and just breathed, letting that feeling of belonging guide him. He could smell his mate. It was warm here.

Another howl, further away this time, apparently answering the first. A dozen whining, low cries replied, closer. Not his mate but still familiar. Snuffling sounded around his den, a nose nuzzling against his feet through the fur. Harry grumbled in displeasure, pulling his head back to see the wolves that usually guarded the tunnels gathered round him, all softly swaying tails and pricked ears. Harry's confusion as to their presence ended, however as he saw his mate heading toward him, Kirian at his side. They were his guard for now.

He cocked his head at the sight of Kirian. He wanted him close. Fenrir too. Laying back in the hollow, he waited for them to join him.

"Daddy?" Kirian asked, leaning over the tree root to stare down at him. "Why are you in a hole?"

"Kirian," Fenrir said, voice roughened by wafer-thin control. "Let them take you back, I'll follow behind with your dad."

"But…" Kirian leant over further, patting at Harry's clammy forehead. "He's sick."

Fenrir grumbled with frustration, "He's not." He pressed his thumb into the corner of Harry's lip, tugging it up to see sharp white fangs, signifying just how close he was. "The cub's coming, now go." But as he reached to pull Harry out of the gap under the tree root, Harry snapped at him and edged back, watching him with irritation. Fenrir growled warningly. "Come," he demanded. "You can't do it out here."

The growl burning in the back of Harry's throat grew louder. Kirian ducked his head, circling round his parents and heading away from the confrontation as he knew to, glancing back over his shoulder only once as the wolves escorted him up stream toward the Valley. Fenrir dragged a hand through his hair in frustration, barely holding onto his senses. "Get," he said to Ghost, who whined as he shuffled out of the dip in the ground and bounded after Kirian. This shouldn't have any witnesses; it was going to be ugly.

Whirling on his heel, Fenrir seized the fur cloak covering Harry's lower half and pulled them over his head, bundling him up in the material and lugging him up into his arms, effectively trapping him in the material. Snarling and clawing frantically within, Harry's jaws latched onto the fabric inside, just missing catching Fenrir's shoulder in the process.

"Enough," Fenrir murmured, words barely discernable from the warning rumble in his chest. He glanced through the trees and closed his eyes, holding tightly to the struggling body in his arms, apparating to the Valley doorway. At least that shortened the distance somewhat. As soon as he was inside the tunnels, however, he knew it wasn't going to work like this. Harry was struggling out of his arms and in his condition, Fenrir couldn't safely restrain him.

He lowered Harry to the ground and the sound that ripped from his lips was a roaring, frustrated snarl. The bundle that was Harry froze and Fenrir sat back, feeling his control dwindle. He swallowed as the change took him, dragging fur and bones into unnatural shapes until he was on all fours, watching his mate shrink back to regard him warily, before bolting up the tunnels and out of sight.

The silver wolf huffed, dragging the forgotten fur cloak between his teeth and following after his mate's scent. The soft glow from the columns of light soothed his nerves. He heard Kirian and the others enter into the tunnels behind him somewhere and pressed on. When he rounded the corner a sharp whine ripped through the air and he stared down at his mate, naked and crumpled and cupping his stomach with a wince as he backed away from him. Fenrir grumbled consolingly, bowing his head, exposing his throat, the cloak clenched tightly in his teeth. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched, waiting for his panicked mate to decide.

The caves were cool, too cool for the cub about to be born and Fenrir felt increasing desperation that he knew was travelling through their connection. Harry tensed, one hand still holding himself while the other steadied himself on the ground. Harry regarded him guardedly but did not make a sound.

Cautiously, Fenrir edged forward, head still low, but high enough that he could drop the fur around his mate's shoulders. He waited, only a few inches between them now. But then Harry shifted, pulling the cloak tighter round him and Fenrir bowed his head, using a large paw to pull Harry tight into his chest. They stayed like that as the next wave of pain pulsed through his mate's body, Harry rocking slightly on his heels and letting out low, guttural sounds of anguish, sounds he'd not been present for last time. This time would be different.

Like they should have been the first time. The words echoed through his mind, perhaps Harry's mind too, for those fingers knotted in the fur at his shoulders and anchored Harry's weight as his mate pulled himself unsteadily to his feet. A low whine brushed against his fur. Harry nestled into it, holding on tight. After a moment, Fenrir walked on, letting Harry lean on him as they approached the gates. The panic was over now; this was the way it was meant to be. They were doing this together.

To Be Continued…