A/N: Thank you all for your support!

We rocketed straight past four-hundred to reach four-hundred and eleven reviews!

Cyber-cookies go to 'serenityselena', the four-hundredth reviewer!

We also now have six-hundred and seventy-seven followers, and four-hundred and ten people have added this fic to their favourites list. It's amazing!

I love reading all of your comments, and it makes this goofy smile bloom across my face when I read comments like these:

'I love this story, really great job with the descriptions and I can't wait to
read more.' 'I love the story I can't wait for the next one!' 'I can't wait for Harry and Draco to meet! Please update soon!' 'Love it :D' 'LOOOOOOOOOVE IIIIIIIIIIT, can't wait for more!'

So… On with the warnings and disclaimers! Onwards, my readers!

DISCLAIMER: Harry *hiccup* Potter *sniff* and *blows nose* Co. *hiccup* are *whimper* not *hiccup* mine! *Pain-filled wail*. I don't own them, okay?! *Breaks down in sobs*

This fic is rated M because of the things that you have already read, and the things you will read as the plot progresses. Quel surprise!

*Special note at the end!*

Chapter Five: Golden Treasure

Harry was purring contentedly, his emerald eyes shuttered in bliss as he rolled the exquisite taste over his tongue. So sweet and buttery, with a delicious hint of ginger and lemon that almost rolled his eyes back into his head. His wonderful treat, in all of its golden glory, was accompanied but just the right amount of lemon cream, causing his taste buds to overload his system with pleasure.

Treacle tart was a foodgasm for sure.

His pleasure was interrupted by someone moving too close to his food. 'No!' His mind cried as he flinched away from the hand, hissing in his true form, his treasure clutched to his chest whilst he bared his fangs ferally. It was his! His!

His tense muscles relaxed instantly when someone, bearer, pride, father, submissive, squeezed the back of his neck, just hard enough to stop him in his tracks and make him feel like a naughty cub. His shoulders, ears and tail slumped. His head bowed, he waited for his treat to be taken away from him. Naughty cubs didn't deserve treats. Freaks didn't deserve treats. Strong arms looped around his waist and he was scoped into a warm lap. Meaningless sounds filtered into his ears, making him realise that everything had been silent before. His head was turned to rest on a shoulder, and the smell, books, chocolate, father, pride, safe, relaxed him almost instantly. But then a hand came near his treasure, and he flinched back, only managing to secure himself further into the warm lap. He was so confused and upset. Why was pride, chocolate, bearer, books, safe, trying to take away his treasure? 'Oh.' He remembered. He was a bad cub. A freak. Freaks didn't deserve treasure.

So he held still when the hand returned, his head bowed in defeat. He fought a whimper when the hand took away his treasure. He deserved it. He was a bad cub. A freak. Freaks didn't deserve-

Treasure! On a spoon! His nose lead his head away from the shoulder, snuffling blindly until the treasure was tantalisingly near, the cool metal of the spoon's edge touching his lips. Tentatively, he poked out his tongue, flinching away after it touched the treasure. Now he was really in trouble. Bad cub! Freak! Bad, filthy, freakish-

The spoon was back at his lips, pressing a little harder. What? A warm hand, chocolate, pride, bearer, cupped his chin and gripped, gently pulling down his jaw as the spoon pressed stubbornly against the parting of his lips. Timidly, his loosened his jaw, and as his lips parted the treasure-laden spoon moved into his mouth. Treasure! A warm purr built in his throat as he closed his lips around the spoon, the taste of the treasure filling his mouth. Subconsciously his hand rose to the spoon, and another warm hand, parchment, ink, mint, pride, guided it to the cool metal, and gently encouraged his hand to grip it. The spoon safely held, the original hand joined its twin at Harry's waist as the newer hand stroked Harry's long curls.

Eventually the spoon was empty, Harry's slightly rasping tongue having linked it clean, and the large emerald eyes finally opened, blinking twice in the light. Looking around, he blushed furiously as he realised that he had just had an episode. The hand, which turned out to be Hermione's, kept running through his hair soothingly, as Remus' thumbs rubbed circles in his sides.

Harry gently leaned forward to place to spoon on the plate, and he ignored the treacle tart left. Stinging, humiliated tears rose in his eyes as he made to leave, but he was once again picked up, this time into Remus's arms, bridal-style. Remus carried him gently into the lounge, all the while murmuring soft endearments and assurances. Seated on the over-stuffed, Gryffindor-red sofa Remus cradled his cub to his chest, and rocked him gently when the dam broke and Harry began to cry. They were snotty, painful tears that wrenched Remus' heart to hear. But Harry needed to cry, for the childhood that was stolen from him. For what the muggle filth had done to him. For everyone and everything that had shunned him, belittled him, hurt him and treated his unjustly. For once, Harry allowed himself to cry, and took comfort that Remus was there for him.

Eventually his tears dried, and after a soft handkerchief cleaned his face and a kiss was placed upon his reddened nose, Remus murmured words that meant more to Harry than he would admit to himself.

"Cub, we will never take your food away from you. It is your treasure, and it is a treasure that gladdens us to share with you."

Then Harry understood, and a grateful smile curved his teeth-reddened lips. Remus was helping him heal. He was fixable.

..~*~..

"Alright, everyone one here?" Remus asked. Affirmative replies and gestures followed. "Brilliant."

He gave a smile and crossed his corduroy sheathed legs before resting his interlaced fingers on his lap. The warm firelight of the lounge danced across his face, creating the illusion of youth about his features. His eyes, though tired and grieving, were lit with interest, and his silvery scars were faded.

"I have an idea." He stated, his gaze meeting those of his audience. "What do you think of hosting a long gathering of your friends?" Smiles lit curious faces and Harry seemed to glow with pleasure and excitement. Hermione looked thoughtful, though it seemed to be her permanent expression, and she raised her hand, causing a chuckle to circle the room. With a kind smile Remus asked for her question.

"How long would this gathering last, Professor Lupin?" She asked rather formally, causing another chuckle.

"For as long as Mrs Weasley would like them to invade her house, Hermione. Please call me Remus, I'm no longer your professor." Hermione blushed but nodded, and Mrs Weasley smiled from where she was sitting next to her husband.

"It would hardly be an invasion, Remus dear. We would have to talk to the parents, of course, but I think that a week would be wonderful, if we sorted out jobs around the house and where the guests would sleep. We have enough room for four or five guests, I think." She said kindly, her fingers intertwined with those of her husband.

"That's wonderful, Molly." Remus smiled, his gaze landing on his cub, who was practically bouncing in his seat next to Hermione. "I suggest sending out owls to the guests you want to come, and the party will start on the seventh."

There were exclamations of excitement and joy about the room, though Ron and Ginny seemed rather reserved, and loud proclamations of who should be invited were launched into the warm air.

It was eventually decided, an hour later, that Seamus, Dean, Neville and Luna would be invited to stay.

To be continued…

Post A/N: Alright, please put down your torches and pitchforks. I know that this chapter is a runt, and a pitiful one at that.

I've been off with the flu for the past week, and writers block is a bitch, so I'm happy that I got some words out there.

Due to a suggestion of a brilliant friend, I will be reducing my updates to be every-other-week, on a Thursday. He noticed how stressed I was getting over updating on time, and he also remarked that I would have more time to write chapters for Phoenix, Ricochet, and the other two fics that I haven't published yet if I extended my deadline. Please understand that this will mean longer chapters, with better quality writing and far less grammar issues due more editing time. Dan is a wonderman, and I am eternally grateful for his ideas and snotty sense of humour. Much love also for Excalibur's Scabbard for being my rock wall to bounce ideas off. Merci, chérie!

All comments and questions are welcome, darlings.