Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter.
Chapter Three
Fenrir was so close; he could already smell his mate. From what he could smell, he was sure his mate was male and fairly young. Fenrir licked his lips at one particular detail he picked up—his mate was still pure.
Turn right, the voice in his head spoke up once again, and he'll be right there waiting for you.
Normally, he would have been concerned that he was hearing voices in his head, but after years of chasing ghosts, he was starting to think anything was better than nothing.
He ran stealthily through the woods, the darkness concealing his form almost completely.
Although the moon hung full in the sky, the light was dim, and hidden behind a mass of dark clouds. Fenrir had transformed almost as soon as the moon rose, and was now in complete wolf-form.
He was an immensely large creature, a tiny bit bigger than he was as a man. His eyes were a cold, steel-blue, and his fur was a dirty, brownish-gray.
He was running for at least ten minutes when the voice cut in again, Stop! Right there, he's right there. Fenrir lifted his head, and looked around, sniffing the air curiously. The voice was right (again).
The scent grew stronger in the direction the voice pointed out. Fenrir's mouth was already watering.
After years of longing for his mate, he was finally going to have him. And he was going to take him—damn anyone, or anything, that stood in his way.
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They were fourteen years old when Ginny's feelings started getting serious.
Harry was only about two inches taller than he was when they first met, but Ginny shot up, and grew to be tall for her age. She was around five inches taller than Harry, but had yet to grow out anywhere else. She was incredibly skinny and pale, and painfully shy around anyone who wasn't a member of her family. Especially when it came to Harry.
It was in the middle of summer, and the pair was in the garden, sitting by the fountain. Harry was throwing leaves into the water, while Ginny played with the stem of a daisy the prince picked for her.
"…ny…Ginny!"
The redhead was startled out of her thoughts, and pushed away the hand waving around in front of her face. "What is it?" She asked, her voice so soft it was almost inaudible. She kept her eyes on the flower, and basically anything else that wasn't Harry.
When her long, messy red hair fell in front of her face, Harry smiled, and tucked it gently behind her ear. The girl's blush went unnoticed. She ended up slapping his hand away, and Harry's smile faltered.
"What's going on with you?" He asked, "You've been really…weird lately."
Ginny managed a quick glance at the boy, and then returned to staring at the daisy. This was her chance, was the thought that first entered her mind.
This was her chance to tell her best friend that she was kind of, sort of, in love with him.
She grimaced. And then what? Ruin their friendship forever?
"It's nothing, Harry," she mumbled, "I'm fine, really."
"Give me some credit, Ginny," Harry focused an unwavering stare on the girl, frowning in determination. "I'm not an idiot. You haven't been able to look me in the eye for over a year now. Why? Did I make you mad?"
"No!" Ginny answered immediately, "I'm not mad at you! I just…I…I…" I love you, were the words she wanted to say. That's what her heart wanted her to say, but her mind was in control.
"You…?" Harry prompted, arching a brow.
"I think you look…really similar to the guy I like." Was all she could manage to say. Half of her didn't want him to know—ever—but the other part desperately wanted Harry to figure this out on his own. (If he ever did.)
Her heart began to beat nervously when she saw that the wary look on Harry's face had yet to fade, but then both relief and disappointment rushed through her when the prince's expression melted into a smile.
"Aw, you like someone?" He grinned, and slung an arm around her shoulders, "who's the lucky guy? Is it anyone I know?"
Although a part of her stung a little at his words, and his casual reaction, Ginny forced a little smile.
"Yeah, I guess you could say that."
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Harry watched the exchange between the past-him, and his best friend. With a dull ache in his chest, he shook his head, and changed it to ex-best friend.
"Why are you showing me this?" He looked to the demon standing at his side. His eyes shone with barely-restrained contempt.
Draco smiled enigmatically. His eyes remained on the fourteen-year-olds projected before them. "What? You think I'm planning something other than reminding you of a pleasant memory?"
Harry's frown said it all.
"Okay, okay," Draco raised his hands in surrender, "I do have something planned, but it's nothing 'sinister,' I assure you."
The prince still looked unconvinced.
Draco rolled his eyes. "Fine, if you want to know so badly, I'll tell you." The grin that spread over the demon's face was almost wide enough to split his face in two. "But not now."
"Draco—"
"Calm down, darling," the blonde laughed, "we've got plenty of time. I say, just enjoy what you've got here." He gestured all around them, at the garden, to the teenagers splashing each other with fountain water. "I know you miss her. Enjoy this. This may be the last time you'll see her in a while."
Before Harry could get a word in, the demon was gone.
Harry looked back at the scene. He remembered this. This happened exactly a year before things between Ginny and he started getting worse.
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Harry woke up in the middle of the night.
Something was licking his face, and the prince laughed, thinking it was one of the horses. "Stop it…" He said drowsily, trying to push it away. He slowly woke up when he felt thick, bushy fur beneath his fingers.
He was fairly sure horses didn't have thick, bushy fur. At least the ones they had.
His eyes shot open when sharp teeth nipped at his fingertips.
It was almost pitch-dark when he opened his eyes. The fire Mika built had faded to small embers. But when his eyes finally adjusted to the lack of light, he made out a large shadow crouched right in front of him.
Whatever it was, it was huge. He shut his eyes tightly, and pressed back against the tree he was lying against. His hands scrambled for something, anything, to fight the creature off. He was stopped when two massive paws stepped on his hands, and the creature nipped at his shoulder roughly.
Harry flinched at the feeling of sharp teeth piercing through his clothes, and barely grazing against his skin. The creature's moist, warm breath pressed against his neck, and made him shiver.
"Mika…" He practically whimpered, and kept his eyes shut tightly, "Mika, wake up!"
At the sound of a low warning growl, Harry shut his mouth.
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Mika woke up almost as soon as the wolf stepped into their little 'camp.'
She kept herself relaxed, and breathed evenly through her nose, as if she were still asleep. She did her best to remain undetected by the wolf, but nevertheless, she was still surprised.
When she got lost, she took her time to look through the area around the clearing. She didn't find any dens nearby, but then again, wolves were known for traveling far, especially when it was for something they wanted.
And this one clearly wanted Harry very badly.
The reason she didn't spring into action immediately was that this wolf was different. Mika had some run-ins with a few werewolves here and there, and most of them were hungry, and looking for one thing—food.
This one wasn't hungry. It didn't approach Harry like a predator would prey. The way this wolf approached over to Harry was careful, in a way a human would walk up to a small animal. This wolf didn't want to scare Harry. He just wanted to get close to him.
But why?
Mika opened her eyes at the sound of soft, lapping sounds. It was licking him. Now it was starting to seem less like a werewolf, and more like a dog.
Slowly, she was starting to realize what was going on here.
The wolf approached Harry, but wasn't looking for a meal. He was licking Harry, but didn't seem to want to bite him with the intention of devouring him.
From what she could see, it looked as if the wolf was rubbing against Harry as well.
Ah, she thought, it's marking him.
"Mika… Mika, wake up!"
Oh. Harry was awake. Mika was about to get up when the wolf growled. So it knew she was awake.
"Calm down, Harry," she spoke lowly, in a calm, passive tone. She didn't want to alert the wolf. "It's not going to hurt you."
"That's easy for you to say." Harry bit out, sounding more vulnerable and scared than anything else. "Wh-what is this thing?"
Mika saw the wolf nudge its head against the side of the prince's face, and Harry whimpered. Having rows of razor sharp teeth does that to a person.
"Werewolf," she replied, getting slowly to her feet while the wolf was thoroughly distracted with Harry. Silently, she crept over to the small, makeshift fire pit she constructed earlier. "Keep him busy for me, will you?"
"M-Mika!" The prince yelped as he felt those sharp teeth pinch lightly at his neck, but not breaking through the skin. "Wh-what the hell?" Those teeth dug in a little bit more, and Harry once again tried pushing the wolf away. No luck.
"Calm down," Mika repeated as she slowly began the process of relighting the fire. "It's not going to hurt you now, but it might think it has to if you keep panicking like that."
When the small, ashy pile of wood began smoking, the wolf turned to look at Mika. Momentarily, its eyes flashed, and Mika paused. When it turned back to Harry, she restarted, this time faster.
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Fenrir was overcome with happiness when he finally found his mate.
He nearly pounced on the boy, but restrained himself. When he crept closer to his mate, he noticed just how small the boy really was.
He could see fairly well in the dark, but it wasn't the same as seeing things in the daytime. He wanted to know what color his mate's skin was, his lips, his hair, and his eyes. For now, though, he was content with simply having found the boy.
If he could have in his current form, he would have smiled. His mate was beautiful. He was young and petite, with messy, thick hair, and astonishingly long eyelashes. His nose was rounded, and his lips were plump and utterly kissable.
Fenrir almost regretted the fact that he was a wolf right now.
Other than marking the boy, he couldn't do anything else.
When his mate woke up, he was treated to the sight of large, innocent eyes. The first thing he wanted to do when he turned in the morning was learn the color of those eyes.
However, he couldn't help but grow upset when the first thing he heard that sweet voice call was the name of another. He growled, warning his mate. The boy needed to know who he belonged to.
The only name he wanted to hear his mate calling was his.
He bit lightly at several spots on the human's body—his neck, his shoulder, and his chest. The boy struggled against him, and Fenrir could feel that with each passing moment, his mate was just getting more and more worked up. He wanted the human to relax. He was safe now, safer than he'd ever been, in fact.
When he smelled smoke, Fenrir turned his head, and fixed the woman behind them with a look. He truthfully hadn't noticed her before, but now that he did, he gave her a silent warning to back off.
He certainly didn't come here for her, and he wasn't going to leave until he got what he wanted.
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From behind his eyelids, Harry saw a bright, orange light.
He faintly heard Mika's voice telling him to open his eyes through the 'werewolf's' heavy breathing. Slowly, he did as he was told, and his eyes fluttered open.
The shadow the creature cast over him shielded his eyes from most of the light, but still allowed him to see the beast crouched in front of him, not a foot away from his face.
It was, indeed, a wolf. An enormous one—bigger than any canine Harry had ever seen. His eyes took in its dirty, gray fur, then its large, twitching ears. His eyes moved up, and caught the wolf's gaze.
He was almost immediately drawn in by the blue-steel orbs.
Although the eyes were cold and sharp, Harry felt an unmistakable warmth shoot through him. He felt as if he could be engulfed in those eyes, and he simply wouldn't care.
Slowly, he lifted a hand, and shakily reached towards the wolf. It met him halfway, and nuzzled against his open palm. For a moment, Harry relished the coarse, cold fur that pressed against his skin.
He let out a quiet, slightly hysterical chuckle right before he promptly passed out.