Here's chapter 4 :)

Sorry for the wait, but I got a bit stuck for ideas on this one

I'd love to say thank you to all the reviews and readers, and an even bigger thank you to xdreamlessxvoyeurx for being my beta :D

Dreaming

Harry woke up screaming again.

It had been this way for the past two days, ever since his encounter with Fenrir Greyback in the Forbidden Forest. The last two nights he hadn't been able to have a peaceful night's sleep. He'd wake up every other hour or so after having horribly bloody, graphic dreams of the werewolf, who would, eventually, come and claim his prize.

This mornings dream, however, had been completely different from the other ones, where he had just been running away from the beast. This morning it had gone further than the bite.

Again, he felt a large pair of canines scratching at his neck as he tried to push himself up. Again, they punctured the skin, causing his blood to flow freely down his neck. He writhed and groaned as the pain became ever more blinding.

Suddenly, the next thing he knew he was no longer bleeding or in pain, but curled up next to something very soft and comfy, feeling utterly contented. As he took in his surroundings, he realised that his body was not that of a human, but that of a wolf! He was a sleek, black wolf, curled up next to what appeared to be another wolf, this one silver-haired and much, much larger who seemed to be sleeping. Harry moved to get away but immediately the other wolf opened it's eyes and fixed a glare on Harry, who had frozen at the gaze. After several long moments of staring into the amber eyes, Harry found himself lowering his wolf body to the foresty floor. He didn't know what made him kneel before the commanding silver wolf but he didn't want to find out what would happen if he didn't.

Then, slowly and assertively, the huge wolf padded over to Harry's genuflecting form.

It nuzzled its nose under Harry's chin, forcing Harry's green eyes to look up into the amber ones. It gave a low rumbling noise and bared its fangs, but, somehow, Harry understood what it meant; mine.

He didn't know why he was screaming – the last bit of his dream wasn't even scary, but thinking back, the amber eyes seemed to have been staring so intently that Harry found that, when he blinked, the golden orbs were still imprinted on his retinas.

Vaguely, he heard whispered voices coming from outside his bed hangings.

"...screaming for the last two mornings! And nights!" came the hushed voice of Seamus Finnegan. "What if it doesn't stop?"

"Do you think we should cast silencing charms when he goes to sleep?" said Dean Thomas. "I'm sure Harry wouldn't mind."

"Or he does mind and goes big-bad-wolf on us all."

Harry sat up in bed and listened, curious to hear what his roommates knew.

"Shut up! You don't know that, remember?" hissed Ron, and Harry felt his heart ache. Ron had told them what had happened? Even after he'd spoken to Professor McGonagall who had sworn that no one would find out?

"Sorry, but this is risky," Seamus continued. "Anyway, even without the screaming I wouldn't be able to sleep because I'm too nervous to be sleeping in the same room as a bloody werewolf!"

"I'm not a werewolf," Harry said quietly, but because he hadn't whispered it, it was louder than the rest of his roommate's hushed voices. He pulled open the curtains that were drawn round his bed.

"Harry!" Ron said in a very high-pitched voice.

Harry smiled dully. He wasn't so much annoyed at Dean and Seamus; anyone would be edgy if they were sharing their room with a werewolf's mate. No, his anger was vexed at Ron. He'd exposed Harry's horrific secret after been given strict instructions not to by McGonagall.

"Morning," he said coldly. He grabbed his clothes and made for the shower, but was stopped when Ron grabbed his arm.

"Harry, I'm sorry," he said desperately. "I didn't want to tell but I'm sure they would have guessed it anyway!"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "How?"

"Well... you kind of... sort of..." Ron rubbed his neck nervously. "You mention his name in your sleep... and him being a wanted Death Eater as well as a werewolf... it's just hard to pass it off as dreams about You Know Who still."

Harry nodded stiffly. He wanted to avoid another falling out with Ron; the argument in his forth year with his best friend and the awkward silence that had followed had been the worst period of his time at Hogwarts. So, not wanting to risk the fight that would surely follow if Harry lost his temper, he merely nodded and left to wash.

Standing under the hot jet of water, Harry subconsciously moved his hand up to his neck where he gingerly touched the rough patch of skin. How could one little mark mean so much?

I could say the same thing for the scar on my forehead, too, he thought, smiling to himself bitterly.

After what had to have been twenty minutes standing under the hot water, Harry eventually dried off and left for the Great Hall. The Heads of Houses had decided that – even though Albus Dumbledore was dead – they should continue their duty of protecting the students, so lessons would still continue fot the last month. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts of his latest dream, however, that he didn't watch where he was going and bumped into something.

"Watch it, Potter," snarled a familiar voice.

Correction: someone.

"Sorry," he muttered. He looked up to find Draco Malfoy sneering down at him; great, just what he needed.

"Going somewhere without your fan club, Potter?" Malfoy drawled.

Harry snorted.

"That's rich of you," he scoffed. "I'm surprised you've dared to venture out on your own without your body guards."

The two boys glared at each other before Draco's eyes drifted down to Harry's neck. He sneered.

"Did Weasley leave you a present?" he scorned. "The slutty look suits you, Potter."

Without thinking Harry pulled out his wand and aimed it at Draco's chest. He didn't know why, but he was extremely touchy about his... about that thing on his neck.

"Touched a nerve, have I?" Draco asked slyly.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry growled. "You don't know anything!"

"What is going on here?" came a shrill voice. Harry and Draco looked up to see Professor McGonagall striding down the stairs towards them. Draco groaned and Harry hurriedly shoved his wand away.

"Well?" she snapped.

"Potter threatened me, Professor," Draco said innocently, and Harry rolled his eyes at Draco's obvious act.

"Is that true, Potter?"

"Yes, but only because he..." Harry trailed off, realising how petty he would sound.

"Because he what?" she asked impatiently.

"Nothing," he grumbled.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," she said with a sigh. "Mr Malfoy, off you go; I want a word with Mr Potter."

"Yes, Miss," he said through a smirk and headed down the stairs to the dungeons.

Harry looked into his professor's eyes and expected to find anger and disappointment. However, he was met with a gaze full of pity and sadness.

"Remus told me we could expect mood changes from you," she said quietly. Harry opened his mouth to question her some more but she continued. "That mark has more meaning than we thought."

Harry swallowed heavily; he wasn't sure he wanted to hear any more.

"After breakfast come to my office, Harry. Remus wants a word."

He watched her leave, knowing that there was something else she had wanted to say to him.

It must be bad, he thought. She never calls me 'Harry'.

After a heavy sigh, he made his way into the Great Hall and tried to catch a glimpse of Ron and Hermione. However, after a lot of searching he decided that they weren't there, so he went to find a seat on his own.

"Alright, Harry?" Seamus asked nervously as Harry walked past him.

"Fine," he said shortly without stopping. At last he found a seat at the very end of the table where no one was around. He slumped onto the bench, slightly relieved he was on his own, and rubbed his neck; it had been tingling all morning. Not feeling particularly hungry, he let his thoughts drift...

Is the fact that I'm on my own down to the sordid mark on my neck? Is that what's making me so angry and irritable?

He thought about going to find Hermione and Ron, wherever they were, but decided against it after he realised he wouldn't be able to stand Ron's apologies, or Hermione's soothing yet patronising tones.

Thinking about it, he didn't really want to talk to anyone; this small amount of solitude seemed like a blessing.