DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and all other characters and locations belong to J. K. Rowling.
A/n: The M rating stands for a reason.
Chapter Nineteen - Two Packs Beneath One Moon
The dry grass hissed and undulated around Harry's knees, a wave of aged gold swaying in reckless abandon before the rising sun. With his eyes tightly closed and his chin tipped toward the grey clouds overhead, Harry stood alone on a bluff within sight of Plover's Cove Cottage and inhaled the salty air. His arrival with Draco had occurred when the moon hung low in the sky, its retreating descent bringing about the beginning of a new day. A day which would undoubtedly be fraught with more snarling and arguing then actual planning. He exhaled heavily and opened emerald orbs that burned from lack of sleep, gazing out at the frothing water before him. With his ears ringing from the wailing wind, the dark-haired male turned and waded back through the waving grass toward the squat little cottage.
When he pushed through the panel that guarded the private residence of Andrej and Steve, he was met by the much unanticipated growling and snapping he'd first sought to escape with his brief sojourn outside. Nearly sighing in disgust, he slipped around the perimeter of the room to prop a shoulder against the wall beside Draco, mirroring the blond's relaxed demeanor and disinterested expression. "Any progress?" He breathed, tilting his head just enough to glimpse the other male's face. `
"They still haven't agreed on who should be in charge," Draco replied in a haughty snarl. With his arms crossed over his sternum and his silver eyes hooded, the blond was the perfect picture of boredom. Of course, his opinion on the entire matter was evident in the brisk tone of his voice, that and the index finger rising and falling rapidly against his forearm. "I don't know why Steve doesn't just rub their faces in this disgustingly tawdry carpet and be done with it."
An amused snort escaped Harry, the sound drawing the attention of the individuals standing closest to the pair. Curling his lips in a silent snarl, he glared at the other males until they shuffled away, turning their attention back toward the drama unfolding in the small kitchen area. "I imagine it's a difficult matter to attempt to resolve," Harry mumbled, eyeing the new leader of the Greyback Pack curiously. Perhaps he wouldn't admit it aloud, but if he was in Steve's boots at this moment, he'd be doing exactly as Draco suggested. Of course, the sudden influx of fresh blood had to be gratifying to the tall blond; all these new faces increasing the Pack's strength in innumerable ways.
A loud thump and the threatening rattle of glasses and saucers bumping shoulders turned the pair back toward the kitchen. With his palms flat upon the table, Steve snarled savagely and flashed teeth at the brunette who'd been aggressively arguing his point. "I am Alpha!" The tall blond bellowed, his face reddening while his eyes flashed dangerously. The shout echoed in the cramped space, seeming to rattle the thin glass of the windows within its panes. But its effect on the assembled Packs was almost instantaneous. Silence. Almost complete and utter silence. "I lead." Heads bowed in submission, the gathered werewolves looking everywhere but directly at the enraged blond.
"Finally," Draco grumbled, straightening from his elegant slouch.
Harry internally agreed with the blond while at the same time shushing the wolf's mutinous mumbles inside his skull. Now was not the time to debate on who was the biggest baddest wolf in the cottage. Though he imagined it would be an impossibly close battle between Steve and the heavyset dark-haired male leaning against the mantle of the fireplace. Draco, as much as he adored the blond, would probably be a close third in that little scrap. Giving a small shake of his head, he focused his gaze back on Steve, watching the male step back from the kitchen table and uncurl his fingers.
"Draco has provided us with the possible location of Jaime Greyback. He, however, also failed to . . . dispatch the individual who provided him with that information. That means Jaime might be moved. And that means we have to make a rescue attempt as soon as possible. Preferably today . . ."
"Tonight's the full moon," Andrej stated calmly. What he may as well of said was 'we're all going to die horribly slow and messy deaths at the wands of Voldemort and his Death Eaters', because that was the reaction his announcement received. Soft snarls and muted whimpers swept through the assembled Pack, the entire group of werewolves taking a small step back while they reexamined the current situation they found themselves in. They had the advantage under the moon, the night was, after all, theirs. Except during that one night of the month when the moon was full, that night belonged unquestionably to the wolf.
"So we wait," the heavyset werewolf propped against the mantle rumbled.
Shaking his head in the negative, Steve swept the group with a fierce look, his expression brooking no argument. "No, we go today . . . before dusk." The vehemence and conviction in his voice was like a battle call, the words dragging snarls and howls from the assembled group. "If you want to stay with the Greyback Pack, you'll either remain here for the duration of the day or rejoin us later this afternoon."
The aggressive stranger straightened from his casual slump, his eyes flashing with the wolf's temper. "What you're asking is suicide. And for what? The unnaturally whelped son of Fenrir Greyback!" His angered rant raised brows and caused a stirring among the Pack, individuals shifting nervously at what could easily be viewed as a challenge to Steve's assumed leadership of the Greyback Pack.
"Then don't come," Andrej murmured, though there was an inflection in his voice that made several members of the gathering flinch and inhale sharply. Slipping from Steve's shadow, the lean blond placed himself squarely beside the other male in a clear demonstration of loyalty, lifting his upper lip in the smallest baring of teeth. "But know you'll never be allowed within the boundaries of our territory."
"Jaime Greyback is the first born werewolf in centuries. His very existence is a miracle in its self," Steve stated quietly. He swept his gaze over the gathered werewolves, daring any to argue.
Harry jumped at a light brush against his forearm, his eyes flicking from the scene unfolding in the kitchen to meet Draco's amused gaze. Huffing softly at the blond's light chuckle, he arched a brow in silent query. He frowned when Draco tipped his head in an almost imperceptible gesture and pushed away from the wall, heading toward the front door in stealthy prowl that garnered only the odd glance. Brow still furrowed, Harry turned his gaze back to the cozy kitchen, finding himself under the silent regard of Andrej and Steve. The duo watched him with nearly identical stares, their matching blue eyes making him shift uncomfortably. With a respectful nod in their direction, he fled in Draco's wake, shouldering his way between masculine bodies that vibrated with barely contained energy. He located the blond standing several paces down the garden path that wound away from the cottage, his attention quite pointedly on the gloves he was pulling on.
"Let's go," Draco murmured, giving Harry no time to draw even with him. Briskly, he strode away from the raven-haired male, his longer legs easily increasing the distance between them until he was well beyond Harry's reach. Without a word of warning, the blond apparated, disappearing silently.
Harry halted abruptly, staring blankly at the spot on the path Draco had occupied mere heartbeats ago. With a heavy sigh, he folded his arms across his chest, drawing his cloak tighter around him in an effort to stave off the brisk wind whipping across the hills. He could attempt to apparate, which was doubtlessly what Draco was attempting to get him to do. Or, he could continue to stand where he'd been abandoned and wait for the blond to return. Because Draco would come back for him - always. Harry didn't doubt the thought for a minute. Of course, whether or not the blond returned in the next five minutes, or the next five hours, would all depend on Draco's current mood. And at this point in time, Harry was guessing it would be closer to the latter than the former.
Inhaling deeply, he tipped his head back and squeezed his eyes closed, wrapping his fingers tightly around the wand in his pocket. The theory of apparation was simple. One simply thought of where they wanted to be and poof, there they were. Releasing a slow breath, he gave a firm nod of his head and pictured the front steps of the Malfoy hunting lodge, gripping his wand so hard he could hear the protesting creak of wood. He took another steadying breath and gritted his teeth . . . and then groaned in defeat. He was about to whirl around and slink back into the cottage when an arm slipped around his waist, tugging him lightly back against a firm chest.
"You know you can do this," Draco breathed into his ear. A gentle nip followed the remark, the playful bite making the dark-haired male catch his breath even as the blond's arms fell away. "And considering you want to attend this little soiree Steve is planning, you better get practicing."
It was a thinly veiled threat, and easily understood. If Harry wanted to participate in the search for Jaime, he'd better be able to apparate. The wolf inside his skull grumbled unhappily, expressing its displeasure over their incompetency, but understanding the reasoning behind the warning. And Harry couldn't agree more with the beast. Tonight, if they became separated and needed to make a fast get away, searching for each other could be costly. Swiping a hand across his face, he turned and met Draco's steady gaze, giving a brief dip of his chin. "Fine," he said in a quiet voice, resolving himself to setting aside the fears and reservations he had about apparating and to just do it.
As if deciding incentive was needed, Draco prowled forward and slid his arms up over Harry's shoulders, drawing the other male closer. Lowering his chin ever so slightly, he peered into blazing emeralds and shifted his hips, the motion causing Harry to suck in a sharp breath. "I'll be waiting for you," he murmured in a seductive purr, the words filled with a husky promise that had the dark-haired male growling softly and straining against the blond's suddenly steely grasp. With a soft laugh, Draco shoved away from the other werewolf and disapparated.
Practically growling at Draco's tantalizing taunt, Harry once again closed his eyes and pictured the Malfoy hunting lodge, concentrating completely on his desire to be there. His need to be there. Before he had a chance to second guess himself, the familiar feeling of being squeezed through a tube seized him and then he was stumbling, floundering in deep snow. A surprised laugh escaped him, elation over his success making him unusually giddy. With a broad smile wreathing his features, he tromped up the trio of steps into the foyer of the lodge, listening intently for Draco. His smile died at the distant slam of wardrobe doors, confusion and consternation warring for his attention.
"Draco?" He called, placing a hand on the banister at the bottom of the stairs. When the blond failed to answer, Harry trotted quickly up the stairs, slipping on the fine wood in his wet boots. He called Draco again as he stalked down the elegant runner that lined the upstairs corridor, concern colouring his voice. His nose, and his ears, led him unerringly to the study in the southwest corner of the lodge; the room where Draco was currently upending drawers with little to no care for their contents.
A smile ghosted over the blond's lips at Harry's appearance in the doorway. "Very good, Potter." He murmured even as he yanked another desk drawer from its moorings and dumped the contents upon the carpet next to his boots. With no fanfare, he tossed the drawer aside and shifted the contents with the toe of one boot, dismissing the papers and assorted bric-a-brac without a second glance. "Make sure you have everything you need or want from here, because we won't be coming back. I may have wiped Lucius's memory of last night, but I doubt he'll soon forget what's going to happen tonight."
Harry propped a shoulder against the doorframe and raised a brow at the blond. "And the reason for the mess?" The question was asked out of idle curiousity. In truth, he was more interested in studying the blond himself. The arrogant set of his chin and the spread of his shoulders, that intimidating air he wore like a much loved cloak. Everything Draco had become over the past few months did it for Harry - completely.
"We'll want to lay low for a few weeks. A little extra cash will make that much easier," Draco explained, dragging the last protesting drawer from its sliders and scattering it offerings across the dragon skin blotter. With a swipe of his hand, he spread the aged documents around, eyeing the legal papers with renewed interest. "You should pack your bags . . . and anything else of relative value." It was all spoken in a mild manner, completely matter-of-fact. Absently, the blond lifted the papers and slid them into a pocket, rasing silver orbs to study Harry.
Harry, in turn, shoved away from the doorframe and prowled forward, closing the short distance between them. The expression he wore must have become heated, because the blond's gaze grew calculating, those pale eyes turning a stormy grey. Running his tongue over his bottom lip, the dark-haired male shed the winter cloak still hanging from his shoulders, dropping the garment carelessly to the floor as he stalked closer to the blond. "Fuck me," he said. His voice was edged in desire and spiked by lust, the words half command and half plea.
Draco responded by grabbing Harry by the front of his robes and swinging them both around, slamming the dark-haired male's shoulders against the bookcase behind him with such force he gasped. He gave Harry no chance to recover his breath, just sealed their mouths together with a rough kiss that earned him an appreciative groan. Hands snatching at hair and trouser buttons, the pair dueled for supremacy amidst rumbles of pleasure.
With a sharp hiss, Harry pulled away from Draco's mouth, his fingers sliding beneath the blond's boxers to curl around his dick. He nibbled along the other male's jaw as he gave the first tantalizing stroke, his fingers smoothing over hard flesh. A ragged breath from Draco was his reward, the sound spurring him on. The second caress was followed by a third and a fourth, the fifth and sixth growing more rough and desperate as a whimper of need slipped past Harry's lips. He was given no real warning of Draco's intentions; one minute his back was against the wall, the next he was sprawled upon the carpet with the blond looming over him - and sometime during the entire ordeal his pants had vanished. This time it was he who drew a ragged breath, the cool hand smoothing across his ass a teasing reminder of what was to come.
"Now," Harry spat, catching up handfuls of the blond's hair and tugging ruthlessly. His demand earned him a rough chuckle, the sound ending when Draco once again locked their mouths together, tangling their tongues. Passion flaring, Harry released Draco's pale locks to drag his hands down the other male's back, fingers curving over the blond's buttocks.
"Patience," Draco chided in turn, slipping the dark-haired male's grasp to place nibbling kisses along his throat. He slid lower with a purr, hands fisting in the collar of Harry's shirt before parting the fabric with a practiced yank, the motion sending buttons skipping across the carpet beneath them. With a soft laugh at the startled expression on Harry's face, the blond licked playfully down his mate's chest, pausing to place an openmouthed kiss over his navel. Draco lifted eyes glowing like liquid silver, his mouth hovering above Harry, panting breaths bathing the other male's twitching member. He dipped his chin slightly, giving one long lick before a sharp buck nearly tumbled him from his perch. With no further foreplay, but a hastily whispered charm, the blond mounted the raven-haired male with a deep growl. The race to completion was rough, soft snarls ricocheting around the study as the pair strained against each other. It was on a rough rumble that Draco came, two quick flicks of his wrist dragging Harry with him.
"One of us is really easy," the blond muttered minutes later. He pushed up on his elbows so he could stare into Harry's flushed face, a smirk riding his features at the glazed look the dark-haired male still wore. "And it's not me."
"Fuck off," Harry was finally able to reply. He shoved the blond aside carefully, wrinkling his nose at the sweat-dampened shirt that clung to his back. With a hearty groan, he rose to his knees, rubbing his hands up over his face and into his hair. "I suppose I'd better go and start that packing." He spent another minute staring down at Draco's sprawled form before giving a wag of his head and plodding from the room, dragging the ruined shirt over his head and dropping it thoughtlessly on the hallway floor.
Still, several hours later, he still wasn't quite oriented. His thoughts not so much scattered as they were fucked from his skull. Despite his inability to hold a thought for more than a minute, his bags and Draco's were both packed. Even the wolf within his head was having trouble focusing, its normally inane chatter concerning the state of the moon disjointed, sliding from thoughts of hunting to memories of Draco's flushed face above them. With a flustered shake of his head, Harry grabbed the bags and headed toward the foyer, dumping them on the marble next to the staircase. The heavy tolling in some distant part of the lodge had him holding his breath and counting, eyes widening in surprise when he reached the number five before silence once again overtook the large cabin.
"Draco?" He called up the stairs, shifting his feet in the pair of boots he'd borrowed from the blond. "If you're done looting, we should probably leave. You'll make us late." The added afterthought earned him a soft snort, the sound echoing in the emptiness of the foyer. He turned to find the other male standing behind him in the doorway of the front parlour, winter cloak already clasped around his shoulders, looking as perfectly suave as ever.
Lips lifting, the blond waved his wand in the direction of their bags, shrinking them until they were perfectly pocket size. "Let's go," Draco murmured after studying the dark-haired male for a moment, his eyes gleaming with a heat that looked freshly stoked. He stooped to pick up the miniature bags sitting on the floor, hesitating a moment before passing Harry his little suitcase. "I believe it would be best if we both held onto our own bags this time."
Harry swallowed at the implications contained in the quietly spoken statement. Understanding sent a line of goosebumps marching up his arms, the shiver accompanied by a soft growl. "Nothing is going to happen to either of us. We're just going in to find Jaime, not take on Voldemort or his Death Eaters." For a reassuring promise, it left a lot to be desired. Inhaling deeply, the raven-haired male closed his eyes and tipped his head back, trying to collect himself. "Draco, we'll be fine."
The blond merely lifted his brows before turning and stepping out the front door, shouldering deeper into the dark winter cloak he wore. He stalked down the snow dusted stairs, halting at the bottom to glance back at Harry. "Plover's Cove Cottage," he reminded the dark-haired male unnecessarily. Smoothly, he flipped the hood of the cloak over his head, concealing his face in the heavy folds. Still, he hesitated, standing unmoving upon the path, eyes locked on his companion. "Harry . . . stay close tonight."
The blond was gone before Harry had a chance to reply. Drawing a deep, steadying breath, Harry closed his eyes and apparated. When he reappeared in the meadow below the cottage, he found the Pack crowded in the small garden in front of the cottage. Draco was easily located, the blond standing by himself just beyond the group, hands buried in his pockets looking completely disgusted with the entire ordeal. And Harry understood the reason for that expression, was certain he had worn the same look within the last twenty-four hours. It seemed an almost impossible task: stealing Jaime Greyback from beneath the very nose of the Dark Lord. In the past, Harry had always assumed his final confrontation with Voldemort would occur with an army at his back. That, despite the singularity of the task, he would have the support and assistance of the Order and Dumbledore. Never would he have believed it would come down to this; a handful of werewolves seeking to reclaim one of their own entering the headquarters of the Dark Lord in the twilight hours when the shadows were at their longest. However, it wasn't the Packs goal to challenge Voldemort. No, they were simply there to rescue Jaime. And that was all that really mattered. Whatever happened after that . . . was neither the Pack's problem nor Harry's.
Turning his attention back to the group, Harry wandered up the well packed trail, watching with interest as several of the group vanished. He strode to stand alongside Draco, sliding his hand into the blond's within the voluminous folds of their winter cloaks. The silver eyes that slid his way were guarded, but the hand within his squeezed gently, the blond's thumb rubbing the length of his index finger lightly.
"It's time," Steve announced, holding out a shredded blanket large enough to allow everyone a handful of material. He waited for the muttering group to each find a place in the oblong rectangle that was forming, curling a lip in warning when two of the males began growling at each other. When the Pack had once again settled, the tall blond hissed a word, activating the portkey before any further altercations could occur. Seconds later they arrived in a jumbled group just outside a tall forbidding castle. They cowered in the shadows cast by the surrounding trees, ducking down beneath the low hanging branches of drooping cedar trees.
Harry crouched next to Draco, flanked by a second werewolf with dark curls and a fierce scar across his throat. Around them, in a deceptively calm huddle, was the rest of the Pack. Harry had never seen the group so intense, yet so quiet and composed. Normally, when this many werewolves gathered in such a small space, there would already have been a handful of fist fights and multiple death threats bandied about. On this evening, however, by some unspoken mutual agreement, the group remained oddly tight-lipped. That fact in itself was perhaps more disturbing than the thought of the task they were about to undertake. However, when Steve began a stealthy prowl forward, the group fell into step behind him, moving as silently as possible while trying to stay within the cover of the limited under-brush. Behind them, the sun had begun its slow descent, sending the first shadows stretching toward the sprawling castle before them.
Harry spared the larger group one final glance before branching off with Draco. As quietly as their lupine counterparts, the duo slipped around the corner of the castle and through a window that had been left unlocked, leaving the glass pane gaping in their wake. They paused in the small sitting room they had entered, peering around at the sheet draped furniture while listening to the various sounds emanating from deeper within the massive structure. The closing of a far off door, the calling of voices, each noise giving the rumours of Voldemort's occupancy of the castle some degree of legitimacy. That didn't mean Jaime was being kept here, though.
Holding his breath, and listening to the beast prattle excitedly within his skull, Harry held Draco's gaze. Together, with every skill and sense at their disposal, the pair waited for the activity in the corridor to die down, all the while very much aware of the ticking time bomb they each housed within their head. After what seemed like a lifetime, the blond tipped his head at the door, giving Harry permission to move further into sprawling castle. Knowing lingering in any section of the castle for a prolonged period of time could get them discovered, Harry swung the panel open on squeaky hinges, unable to conceal his wince at the shrill sound. He may as well of thrown the door open and loudly announced the arrival of the very werewolf Pack Voldemort was attempting to regain control of - not exactly the entrance they were looking to make.
Fighting down the urge to swear viciously, Harry stepped into the corridor and froze, frowning at the familiar smell that tickled his nostrils. Behind him he heard Draco give a similar sniffle, the scent causing the duo to exchange a toothy grin. Side by side, they slunk down the long hallway, the soft scuffing of their boots disturbing the dust that had settled upon the stone floor. They tracked the scent with the unwavering ability of the wolf, cornering the individual they had been trailing in a narrow hallway bordered on either side by a line of doors. Without a single word spoken between them, Draco grabbed the back of the Death Eater's cloak while Harry swung open the dark panel next to them, batting the sparking wand from the wizard's hand with a lazy flick of his wrist. The wood clattered brokenly upon the stone floor before rolling under a nearby table and vanishing from sight, leaving the strange trio standing momentarily frozen in the doorway.
"In," Draco hissed finally, guiding the wizard forward with a hand at the nape of his neck. The blond maintained his grip until the door closed behind them and the bolt thudded into place. His gaze locked with Harry's when the dark-haired male circled slowly around to stand in front of the weakly flailing Death Eater, the corners of his lips lifting in the smallest of smiles when the wizard within his grasp ceased struggling.
"Snape," Harry said in greeting, a smile blooming across his face at the surprised squawk the wizard released. He reached out and curled his fingers in the front of his former Professor's robes, dragging him closer even as his smile widened to reveal sharp white teeth. His attention never wavered from the taller wizard, though his fingers tightened when Draco released his own grip and moved to stand alongside Harry. "Fancy running into you here."
"Potter! Malfoy! You shouldn't be here!" Snape returned in an overly loud voice, dark eyes wide. "What are you doing? And what are you thinking? If another Death Eater had found you - if Voldemort had found you-"
"Unlikely," Draco replied in a harsh whisper. His gaze flicked to meet Harry's, a silent conversation occurring that had both werewolves squaring their shoulders. With a wink that could have been misconstrued as mischievous, the blond returned his pale gaze to Snape, the smile falling from his face to be replaced by a snarl. "Where are they keeping Greyback's son?"
"Who?" The Potions Master hissed, trying to squirm free of Harry's grasp. A startled cry escaped him when the raven-haired werewolf gave him a rough shove, the force of the push sending him stumbling backwards until his back connected with the wall of the narrow chamber. "You need to leave - both of you!"
Harry growled softly, strolling forward in a predatory manner only to drop down to his haunches alongside Snape. His fingers curled gently around the dark wizard's throat, thumb stroking idly over the exposed jugular. "We're not leaving without Jaime. So you may as well tell us where they're keeping him." The stroking tip of Harry's index finger stilled as his knuckles whitened, his grip on Snape's throat tightening uncomfortably, choking off the other wizard's air supply without a hint of remorse.
"Jaime Greyback," Draco murmured in the Potion Master's ear. He drew back to peer into Snape's panicky eyes, teeth flashing in a parody of a smile when Harry loosened his grip enough to allow air into the Death Eater's lungs. "A little boy about six years old. Snotty nose. Probably crying."
"There are no children here," Snape croaked, his hands latching onto Harry's and tugging desperately. When those long fingers once again began to tighten, he released a strangled sound, the noise causing the raven-haired male to ease up slightly. "Bellatrix . . . acting oddly . . . second floor . . . north wing." The rasping words earned him his freedom.
Rising fluidly together, Harry and Draco glared down at their gasping former Professor, studying him with identically predatory gazes. "I feel like I should snap his neck," the dark-haired male mused, watching Snape flounder about on the floor at their feet.
Their silent perusal was interrupted by a piercing howl, the sound shattering the otherwise relative silence of the castle. Heads swinging to stare in the direction of the call to battle, Draco and Harry listened to the faint screams and snarls already echoing in the abandoned corridors. This wasn't the plan. The plan called for stealth and invisibility - neither of those things involved howling. Sparing Snape one final glance, the pair slipped from the room, loping through the tangle of corridors in search of a staircase to the upper reaches of the castle. With every step they took, the sounds of battle grew louder, the screeches of pain accompanied by bellowed hexes and the savage snarls of werewolves.
"Wait," Draco snapped at Harry, catching the raven-haired male by the shoulder and dragging him to an abrupt halt. They were on the precipice of the battlefield, the smell of blood and burning flesh strong in their noses. It seemed there was no way around the fighting, not when the corridor they were lurking in opened into an arching hall. Growling softly, the blond hesitated, his fingers tightening in Harry's robes, reluctant to release his mate. "I'll cover you," he finally muttered, his hand flexing reflexively before sliding from the dark-haired male's shoulder.
Harry was given no chance to reply as an injured Death Eater stumbled into the mouth of the corridor they stood in, the tip of the wand he clutched lifting in their direction. He was shoved out of the way of the burning curse, hearing the outraged roar Draco released as he leapt forward and engaged the dark wizard.
The Pup, the wolf whimpered within his skull. Elation accompanied the whine, the understanding they were so close to recovering Jaime making the animal stretch within its boundaries. Find the pup. It was an insistent murmur, the sound causing an equally soft growl to vibrate Harry's chest.
With one final look at Draco, Harry surged past the blond and into the massive hall, his eyes widening at the tableau unfolding before him. Death Eaters yelled hexes and cast curses ruthlessly, their wands waving wildly as werewolves spun and leapt and attacked with merciless abandon. Slipping in a puddle of blood, Harry raced forward, his gaze finding the grand staircase that led upwards. He ducked a curse and dodged a falling body, pounding up the stairs as another howl ricocheted around the hall. A glance over his shoulder revealed his greatest fear coming to life, a body contorting and shifting into a lupine form. Swallowing his fear, Harry trotted down the hallway of the second floor, desperately searching for some sign of Jaime. He was practically holding his breath when a soft sob halted him in his tracks, the soft cry accompanied by a sharp rebuking voice. Baring teeth that had lengthened noticeably, Harry retreated several steps and stopped outside a closed door, his gaze on the narrow line of light escaping beneath the heavy wooden panel.
Without a word of warning, the raven-haired male opened the door and stepped into the room, emerald orbs landing on the small form crouched in the far corner. Jaime. His expression softened, the little boy's name spilling over his lips. He didn't have a chance to close the distance between them, to wrap his arms protectively around the small boy, because a whisper of movement turned his head. Eyes hardening, he turned to face the dark witch standing open-mouthed across the room, a vicious smile curving his lips. "Bellatrix," he purred, flashing fangs even as he pulled his wand from his pocket.
"Potter," Bellatrix returned, her startled expression becoming giddy. The tip of her wand turned from Jaime, landing on Harry. Her gaze jumped back and forth between two werewolves, obviously debating internally about which of Voldemort's orders she should follow. And Jaime, it seemed, lost the battle for her attention. "I've been thinking of you."
"And I you," Harry growled, advancing into the room. Behind the witch, in the shadowed corner, Jaime jerked, his hazel spheres turning to the window where the last rays of the days light could just be seen vanishing behind the tree line. The soft pop of shifting bone broke the quiet of the room, the sound heralding the beginnings of change. Harry took another slinking step forward, attempting to keep Bellatrix's attention on him. He raised his wand, the motion earning him a hastily hissed 'Crucio' by the witch. He blocked the first curse, unfortunately, the wolf chose that moment to give a sharp twist within his skull. Gasping at the internal stretch, he failed to block the second curse, the ball of sparking magic catching him unaware and sending him to his knees on the stone. Pain slammed through his body, forcing him to sink teeth into his bottom lip to contain the scream that sought to escape. He did allow a loud groan to slide from his mouth, the sound hiding the small snaps and cracks accompanying Jaime's change. Sinking nails into the heavy stone beneath his palms, Harry raised his chin and smiled through the pain, knowing the witch had no idea of what was about to happen. Her taken back expression turned to one of fear when a piping growl rose from behind her, the snarl turning her head slowly toward the smallish wolf standing in her shadow.
With no further warning, the beast lunged, sinking fangs into Bellatrix's forearm and sending the witch's wand flying through the air. Her piercing scream shattered the quiet of the room, causing Harry to push to his feet and swing a wild backhand in order to shut her up. Dragging air into his lungs, Harry bent over and rested his hands on his knees, fighting down the residual pain racing through his body while coaxing the wolf into submission with promises of blood and Pack and Draco. When the wolf inside his skull skulked sulkily back into its cage, he straightened, eyeing the sobbing witch with narrowed eyes.
"Jaime," he finally murmured, brushing blood from his chin with the back of his hand. With the sound of battle still ringing in his ears, he crossed to the window and found it stuck, this newest complication setting him on edge. Snarling unhappily, he picked a small chair up and swung it wildly at the glass, turning his face away as the panes shattered. Quickly, Harry cleared the final clinging shards with his cloak covered arm, brushing glass aside as the little wolf crept closer. "Run," he whispered at the young grey wolf. He stepped aside as Jaime gave a soft nervous growl before springing past him and out the second story window, fleeing into the darkening night. Harry watched him go, his palms on the window sill, his gaze rising to the full moon now visible within the sky. Silently wishing the small wolf luck, he turned and retraced his steps, passing Bellatrix without a second thought, continuing on down the corridor to where the battle was finally drawing to a close.
There were now more wolves then wizards fighting in the destroyed hall, the final Death Eaters maintaining control of a gaping doorway at the end of the chamber. Harry cast his gaze about wildly, searching for Draco, fear giving the wolf inside his head a foothold. He fought down the urge to call the blond's name as he descended the stairs. Finally a shock of pale hair half buried beneath a body drew his gaze, his feet carrying him to the blond without a thought to his safety.
"Draco," he breathed, smoothing a hand over a pale cheek streaked with a ruby smear. Dark lashes fluttered, rising to reveal a silver orb that screamed wolf. A small smile curved Harry's lips, the expression mirrored on the blond's face. That loving grin fell from the blond's mouth when his bones cracked and tendon popped, the wolf tearing its way to freedom. Harry rose to his feet as Draco's body contorted, giving the beast the room it needed to complete the change.
A gleeful laugh broke the otherwise normal noise of battle, the sound spinning Harry around on his heels to meet the gaze of Voldemort. His wand appeared in his hand as his shoulders squared, muscles tightening as he took on a protective stance before Draco's shifting body. "Tom Marvolo Riddle," he allowed in a soft murmur, allowing the wolf to rise closer to the surface. He tensed when the Dark Lord raised his own wand, licking his lips nervously. The first curse Voldemort cast was almost playful, a teasing reminder of what was to come.
"So wonderful of you to visit us," Voldemort called, waving away several Death Eaters that spilled into the room. Their unexpected arrival sent the remaining werewolves fleeing, their lupine forms hurtling over prone bodies to vanish into the darkness beyond the broken doors dangling upon their hinges. The Pack's departure left Harry and Draco alone, abandoned to whatever fate might befall them.
A ragged growl vibrated Harry's throat and he widened his stance even more, lowering his chin as the wolf stepped out of its internal cage and stretched. The beast eyed their current surroundings warily, very much aware of the body that brushed against the back of their legs. Dipping his gaze, Harry eyed the pale wolf that stood beside him, the animal's back easily even with his hip. Drawing a steadying breath, the raven-haired male refocused on Voldemort, his wand tip rising reflexively when the Dark Lord cast unexpectedly. It was with a brilliant flash that the two streams of magic collided, sparking and snapping angrily as equally powerful wands fought for dominance. Harry grit his teeth and braced himself, unwilling to lose this battle. The wolf at his side snarled, shifting anxiously as the Death Eaters behind Voldemort stirred. "Go," Harry snapped, knowing the wolf had no place within this fight. Still, it was with great reluctance that the white beast prowled toward the nearest window and slipped over the frame, disappearing into the creeping shadows of the night.
Startled cries and bewildered yells disturbed the almost solemn silence that had overtaken the hall, the shrieks heralding the unexpected appearance of another wolf in their midst. Releasing a piercing howl, the skinny wolf shot across the expanse of the chamber, colliding with Voldemort's surprised form. The Dark Lord stumbled at the blow, breaking the connection between the two streams of magic. Harry leapt upon the presented opportunity, screaming the killing curse with a wild wave of his wand, watching wide-eyed as the spinning sphere of sickly green magic struck Voldemort squarely in the shoulder, dropping him almost instantaneously. It was that moment that the wolf inside Harry exploded upwards, shoving the boy aside as the beast fought its way to freedom. With a savagely victorious howl, the dark wolf shook the clothing that Harry had worn free of its lithe body, eyeing the Death Eaters with renewed interest. A lone ringing bay distracted the black wolf, turning its muzzle toward the night. With one final glance at the stunned Death Eaters, the beast trotted toward the window through which the white wolf had vanished, freezing when a different call echoed in the hall.
Head lowered, the wolf swung its muzzle slowly in the direction of the individual who had called the boy's name, the gesture as menacing as the gleam in the glowing emeralds. Deep within his skull, the boy whispered 'Dumbledore'. The name curled the wolf's lips, exposing glistening fangs that dripped. Chaos ensued as Death Eaters fled and Aurors poured into the room. Still growling softly, the wolf placed paws on the windowsill and prepared to leap, freezing when a soft whimper reached his ears. Head turning, emerald spheres locked on the half-starved wolf standing next to Voldemort's slowly decomposing body, the lean animal eyeing him almost pleadingly. 'Remus' . The whispered name inside the wolf's skull caused the animal to still, its steady growl fading into silent perusal. The moment was shattered by another howl, this call more insistent, a bid for immediate response. With one final glance at the brown wolf, the black beast sprang out the window and into the night.
Snow enveloped the wolf when he landed, the white powder swirling around his sleek form as he surged into the heavy shadows. He raised his muzzle and sang sweetly as he plunged into the bordering forest. A pale shadow hurtled out of the night and fell into stride beside him, its voice lifting and rising in a triumphant bay. In the distance, a third and fourth wolf added their voices to the chorus, the night suddenly becoming flooded with the belling song of wolves at hunt. With the full moon high in the sky, the black wolf and the white wolf raced through the night, a perfectly matched pair - a Pack of two.
A/n: Thank you for all the wonderful reviews. The epilogue will follow shortly, as it will not have the length of my normal chapters. Again, thank you for the wonderful reviews and I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter.