Author's Note: First, sorry for chapters being late again; life. Second, warning for casual nudity in this chapter during transformations. Third,Barricade Day is coming in a little less than a month. This will be my one-year anniversary of being in the Les Mis fandom! I'd be happy to write short fics for anyone who PMs me with a prompt. Last, if I wrote one-shots in this 'verse that won't fit easily into the narrative (like Combeferre and Enjolras' backstory) would others be interested?

Part Three: Fitting In

Marius comes to see her in the dark of early morning, an hour or so before light touches the horizon.

She doesn't know how she's aware of his presence. She doesn't know what draws her from sleep to don her coat, slip into her shoes, tread out into the stillness of the garden. It's simply a feeling, a calling, one that she's been experiencing more and more strongly with each clandestine visit he makes, and it's never been wrong.

It isn't wrong this time, either. He bounds out of the shadows into the bright light of the almost-full moon as soon as she closes the door behind her, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her tight to him.

For a moment she sinks into his embrace, relishing the feel of his warmth against her in the chill of the air, breathing in his scent, male and unperfumed and just a faint hint of dog, though that could be her imagination.

Then she pulls back, holds him out at arm's length, stares into his eyes, and lifts one of her eyebrows. "What were you doing this afternoon?"

He stares back at her, expression puzzled. "I was here with you this afternoon. I was meeting your father."

"I know that." Cosette waves a hand impatiently, letting Marius' arms go so that she can gesticulate more freely. "But… Marius, the way you acted around Papa was just… strange. You don't act that way around me! Why were you being so quiet and meek and frightened?"

"I was being submissive." Marius frowns, his eyes falling to the ground, his shoulders hunching in that defensive posture she's not used to seeing from him. "He's your father. You clearly defer to him. So do a lot of the other humans. He's a human alpha. I was trying to be respectful."

"It… but…" Cosette finds herself waving her hands in small circles, trying to find a way to explain what she needs to. "People don't do that, Marius."

"Yes, they do." Marius tilts his head to the side, still puzzled. "They incline their head and they lower their eyes and they treat him like an alpha. I did the same."

"No… well, yes, but…" Sighing, Cosette shrugs. "You did it too much, I suppose would be the way to say it. Humans may show some signs of submission, but they're very subtle, Marius. You were practically lying in your cake, you were… submitting so hard."

"He was angry. He didn't like me. He was trying to scare me, with his words and his looks, to make me leave. I was trying to show that I'm not a threat or a challenge to him or his territory, that I want to be a part of his pack—your pack." Marius continues to study the ground, a look of absolute misery on his face. "But human packs are different, aren't they? Human packs are… broken."

"Broken?" Cosette finds her voice heating on the word, and forces herself to speak quietly, to not risk waking anyone else. "Humans don't have packs, for starters, and if you're talking about families then they certainly aren't broken."

"Maybe broken isn't the right word, then, but there's something wrong with your packs. I don't understand them. You have enemies within the packs. I was doing reading. I was trying to figure out why he doesn't like me, and it seems like it's normal, like that's what human packs do." Marius' voice is all quiet intensity, his eyes staring into hers, horror and dismay on his face. "A pack is supposed to be a place of safety, a place of acceptance. There are some bad alphas, yes, some who rule with their teeth or their magic too much, but a self-respecting wolf should get themselves away from that situation. But human packs, you define them by family name, which is fine, but then you fight within them! There are people in the houses of the rich who aren't pack, who are less than even the most submissive pack-member and yet are expected to have pack loyalties! Even within the pack, old females turn on younger ones, make them miserable, keep them isolated, and others act as though it were a common thing for mother-in-law to do! Old males try to drive away young ones, to keep them from their daughters as though it were their right to choose their children's mates!"

"But… but it is. I mean…" Cosette hesitates, stunned at the outburst from Marius, unsure how to counter all the points he's flung out at her. "I want Papa to approve of our union. I want his blessing—"

"There is a difference between wanting and requiring. I want a pack. I won't have one, because I've chosen you over it. If you wanted to choose me and he continued to disapprove, what would happen?" Marius' chin rises, just slightly. "How would the rest of your world view you?"

"That's not fair." Cosette blinks tears away from her eyes. "Marius, my situation isn't the same as yours. I'm his child. I'm his daughter."

"And those are different things, child and daughter." Marius' shoulders fall, the fire fading from his eyes. "I've picked out that much, but I still don't even understand that. You're angry at me because I don't understand your world, but how can I? How should I understand it, when it's so very different from mine? When it would strive to keep us apart, and for reasons that I can only barely grasp at?"

"It won't keep us apart. And I'm not angry at you." Taking a quick step forward, Cosette pulls Marius into another embrace. For a moment he's stiff in her arms; then he relaxes, his head coming to rest against her shoulder, his mouth nuzzling against her neck.

It's exhilarating. It's intimate. It should make her wary, make her want to pull away from him, make her want to protect her chastity… or at least question her desire not to.

There's nothing sexual about it, though. She knows that as surely as she knows when he's near. He's seeking comfort, attempting to give it, lost and confused and overwhelmed, jittery and energetic, silver fire playing throughout his body, and she shivers against him as she holds him. "I would choose you, Marius. If it cost me my father and my home and my people, I would choose you. How could I offer less, when that's what you're attempting to give up for me?"

"That's… not entirely fair. I was an exile before I met you. My world had rejected me; to ask you to reject a world in which you're happy… it's not the same. I'm sorry, Cosette." Marius murmurs the words against her neck, his posture unchanged, his body fully relaxed against her. "Now is not a good time for me to attempt to be human. I should have thought better of it when the day was decided."

"Why not?" Her eyes rise to the sky, to the moon hanging so large and crystal-white above them. "Because it's close to the full moon?"

"Yes." He shifts, his head rising so his eyes catch and glint with reflected moonlight, a smile on his face. "Very close. This evening all my kind will Change when the moon rises, no matter where we are, no matter what we're doing. I can already feel the energy building. It's a glorious feeling. I wish I could share it with you."

"I think… I understand, at least a little bit. Ah, but I wonder why." She doesn't know how. She doesn't understand why she can feel the crackling of silver-fire in him when she runs her hands against his body, but she can. He offers no explanation to her, only a puzzled frown, and her hand moves to caress his face, gently, tracing over the cheekbones that don't stand out quite so prominently anymore. "The coming full moon makes you even more beautiful than usual. That power is why you didn't want to share a meal with us today?"

Marius nods, licking at his lips in a nervous gesture. "Too many things could go wrong. If he asked me to stay, for some reason… if he pushed me too far, made me too angry or frightened, and I Changed even before the moon pushed me to it… better to stay away from you today, until the Change is over, until the energy is waning again, and then we can try anew to win your father's favor."

"He'll give it. I'm certain he'll give it. Some men might be cruel to their daughters, but not him. I'm quite certain he loves me dearly and only wants to see me safe and happy, and I will not be happy unless I am allowed to be with you." Her hands drop to Marius', clasp his fingers tightly. "He is a strange man, in some ways. I'm not sure he's always that much better than you at understanding people and talking with them, though he does tend to earn their respect. Which he should. He's a good man."

Marius tilts his head to the side, expression still puzzled, but at least it's a charming, winsome puzzlement rather than the dark, despairing air of floundering out of his depth that he had worn before.

"You are both good men." Cosette smiles, delighting in the way that Marius' eyes shine in the moonlight, in the way he studies her as though she holds answers when she isn't even sure of all his questions. "And we will find a way for him to delight in your company as I do. You will find him a fascinating man, Marius."

Perhaps Marius will even be able to pry some of her father's secrets from him, to tell her why her Papa is so close-lipped about their past, about any part of her history or his from before their stay in the convent where she had spent the better part of her childhood.

Marius sighs, a sound dragged from deep in his chest, and smiles. "As long as I haven't broken things too badly, I am quite content to try again until we have done things to your satisfaction."

"You could never break things too badly. You don't have it in you." Grinning herself, feeling as though a bit of that silver fire she feels in every brush of his skin burned within her, she pulls him deeper into the garden. "I would like to practice your greetings and leave-taking again, as well as your posture during various events. I know it must be frustrating, having what your instincts tell you is correct interpreted in the wrong way. We'll try to give you a set of human instincts to fall back on, as well."

"I doubt I will ever properly be able to imitate a human, but I will try to follow your instructions."

She coaches him for the next hour, delighting in the way he responds to her, in the good-natured acceptance with which he listens to all her corrections, the rare bursts of sharp humor that sometimes slide from his mouth and seem to startle him as much as her.

When finally dawn touches the horizon, he leaves, as soundlessly as he had come, and Cosette tries not to be too disappointed as she slips back into the house, reassuring herself that Sunday is only two days away.

XXX

"Many thanks, my dears, for allowing my friend and I the pleasure of your company." Courfeyrac takes the hand of Marie, the woman who has been touching his arm or shoulder as often as she can for the last hour, and kisses it, his mouth turning up in a fond, knowing smile as he does. "As much as it pains me I'm afraid that we must leave you here, though. He has a prior engagement, and I have troublemaking of a different sort to attend to."

"The kind that would make it possible for us to be more involved in your troublemaking?" The other woman who's accompanied them for the afternoon—Sara, that was her name—asks the question with barely-concealed glee.

"You are already as involved in my troublemaking as it is possible to make you." Courfeyrac's smile for Sara is different than the one that he had turned on Marie, more honestly affectionate and open, but without making the one he used on Marie seem fake or fraudulent. "Enjolras and I have appreciated all of the assistance you and yours have been able to offer. So far as our activities go, I've no desire to make you any more of a target than you already are, so I will simply say that we will continue working toward our goal until all people are free, no matter their gender."

Marie gives Sara's shoulder a gentle shove. "Always bringing politics back into it, even when we've been having a delightful little foray completely unrelated to those topics."

"It's hardly my fault alone. Courfeyrac is at his finest-looking and most energetic when espousing upon subjects of law, equality, and decency." Sara smiles at Courfeyrac, a teasing, fond expression.

"Be off with you, then, Courfeyrac." Marie takes Sara's arm. "We'll see you again soon, I'm sure, and if you wish to bring your friend again, we'll be delighted to share his company as well."

"I might very well do that. My ladies, it has been a pleasure."

Courfeyrac waits for a moment, and Marius finds himself fixed by the stares of both women. He opens his mouth, finds himself at a loss for what to say, closes it again, thinks desperately on the lessons Cosette gave him that morning, and eventually murmurs out, "Good afternoon."

Giving a small bow and a tip of his hat, Courfeyrac grabs Marius by the arm and steers him away, grinning widely all the while.

Marius waits until they're far enough away from the women so that they shouldn't notice his actions to sigh and shake his head. "I still don't understand how you do it."

"Clearly." Courfeyrac laughs, but there's no malice in the female wolf's laughter, and Marius finds himself smiling along after a few seconds. "Oh, Marius, my friend, I did not think it was possible for you to be more awkward than you had been when we played cards. I was wrong."

"How could I not be awkward?" Marius continues to smile, feeling no sting from Courfeyrac's words. "There were female humans hanging off of you! What was I supposed to do with them?"

"Talk with them. Engage them in intellectual discourse. Do more than stare pointedly at them as though they were strange and unfathomable creatures from another world." Courfeyrac's mirth fades to a wry smile. "Human women are not so different from human men, Marius. There are a few more rules to follow—be careful not to be seen alone with one, if possible, unless you wish for them to start rumors. Be wary of the reactions of boyfriends and suitors and fathers, because they don't seem to understand that one can have a perfectly innocent conversation with a woman just as one can with a man."

"I am fairly certain there was courtship involved in some of Marie's lines." Marius frowns. "And in some of your responses."

Courfeyrac bursts out laughing again. "Why yes, there was. I'm glad that you noticed. I was afraid we might have been too subtle in our game, that it might not have been entertaining to anyone but her and I. Not that this is a bad thing, I enjoy entertaining myself, but I know that Sara will get endless pleasure out of teasing Marie about it. And I did have a few very good lines in there."

"Courfeyrac." Marius shakes his head, not sure if he's entertained or exasperated or frightened by the other wolf's behavior. "You're willingly playing a courting game with her?"

"Yes. Just as she's willingly playing one with me. It's a game that the humans are very fond of, and one that I've found isn't too difficult to pick up."

"I don't believe you find any part of interacting with them difficult to pick up. You do it like a natural." Marius sighs, then remembers to frown. "It's not exactly fair, though. She doesn't know that she's flirting with another female. And one who's mated, at that. Doesn't Combeferre disapprove of your antics?"

"Combeferre finds my antics quite entertaining to watch. He's even designed challenges and experiments for me on occasion." Courfeyrac's smile disappears entirely for a moment. "I would not hurt my mate or my pack. Combeferre understands me and what I need, what I enjoy, what games I like to play and what they mean; I understand him and what he needs, what bonds are precious to him, what his relationship to me is and what it does and does not mean in relation to his other bonds. I do wish others would stop trying to tell us what we're doing wrong. It's that, more than anything, which causes friction for the three of us."

"I… don't believe you're addressing my point anymore." Studying the other wolf, a now very familiar feeling of puzzlement running through him, Marius tries to determine how they got onto this conversation.

"No. I'm not. I apologize." Giving a sheepish, self-deprecating laugh, Courfeyrac scratches at the hair behind his left ear. "The full moon must be getting to me. I'm jousting at enemies who aren't even present. What had your point been?"

"You're flirting with a human female. Who thinks you're a human male." Marius ticks off points on his fingers. "Humans are always in heat."

"A common misconception. For nine out of twelve months they are much more easily sexually aroused than the rest of us, but they're hardly always in heat." Courfeyrac waves a hand. "Do continue, please."

"Well…" Marius shrugs, his face growing red. "Doesn't that make it… awkward for you? Don't they ever… push for what you can't give them? Come close to finding out your secret?"

"I tend not to let it get that far. I like verbal games. I love dancing—you should come dancing with me next time there's an opportunity, Marius, it's wonderful! So many people and smells and conversations and music, ah, I do love dancing. But I don't let it go beyond where I'm comfortable—where I'm safe." There's a sad edge to Courfeyrac's smile, now. How does the female manage to smile in so many different ways? "There are ways to hide that I lack a penis, at least through clothing, and I have done that before, with some who were getting too bold, but I always cut it off at that point. I will not let any relationship in that vein become too serious. I try to make them aware of that before it will become painful for them, though, before that is their true expectation and not just a game. Being disappointed in love can be a very painful thing for them."

"A very painful thing for any of us." Marius studies his hands, gathering his courage to ask the question that this afternoon has brought time and again to the tip of his tongue. "Have you ever loved one of them? A human? Have you ever considered telling one of them? I mean, before you had a mate."

"Ah, I thought about it. I thought about a lot of things, in my months as a stray. Where did I want to go? Who did I want to be? How many wolves did I want in my pack—I did expect to be an alpha, you know. And there was a human or two… but it's so dangerous, right now. Even giving them knowledge of my true sex could see me discredited by all in human society, cast out if they ever decided to use it against me." Courfeyrac shrugs. "I've never bedded a human. I've a mate I'm quite happy with now, though I've sadly never bedded him, either. Perhaps this year."

It's another thing Marius doesn't understand about this strange pack, how they've gone for years without pups, without a proper mating season. He considers questioning that, but finds his mind still racing over the question of humans. "But would you? If you felt you could trust one of them, felt… felt you belonged with them, would you take a human as a mate?"

Courfeyrac considers the question carefully, a small frown on his face. "I don't know. It would be taboo, clearly. It would put all the rest of the Pack in danger. Do I have the right to make that choice? Would it even be possible to take a human as a mate? They've no magic. How could a mate-bond form with a human? Can a wolf have a mate without a mate-bond? Even those who only take a mate for a season tend to form a bond with them, even if they choose to sever it later. Whatever made you think of such a difficult and fascinating question?"

"Nothing. Just… watching you this afternoon." Marius knows from the way his skin burns that his face is red, but hopefully Courfeyrac will think it merely his usual awkwardness magnified. "You interact with them so easily, so naturally, I thought that perhaps…"

"No. Nothing of that sort. As for interacting with them easily, it's like any other language or skill. You just have to watch them to understand it. Much of the body language is the same or at least similar, though much more subtle than what our people will use with each other." Courfeyrac throws his arm across Marius' shoulders. "You did decently today. With practice, I'm sure you'll be able to interact with the humans as easily as you interact with any wolf."

Marius studies Courfeyrac intently, trying to see if Courfeyrac is teasing him still, but it's impossible to tell. Deciding that it doesn't really matter, that he's enjoyed the day with Courfeyrac, Marius smiles at his friend. "We'll have to do this again, then."

"We shall. Later, though." Courfeyrac tenses and stretches. "Are you ready for this evening?"

"Yes." Marius whispers the word around a lump in his throat. He is prepared for the full moon tonight, furniture in position to barricade his door and his window as soon as he gets home, to keep anyone from entering and himself from exiting during the minute or so that the Change will control his whole being. He's even looking forward to it, in a way—it's impossible not to look forward to it, to feel at least a bit of excitement and anticipatory glee as energy builds in his body, tingles in his fingers, itches in his blood.

At the same time, he knows that he's going to Change and be alone, trapped in his room, without a pack, without Cosette, with only his own thoughts, knowing that any stray sounds might bring his neighbors around with difficult questions. He'll be able to change back within a half hour, but he won't want to, the energy of the moon calling his wolf to the fore again and again until the night is over.

"You are welcome with us any time you wish." Courfeyrac's voice is gentle, conciliatory.

"I know." The last full moon had been a different kind of hell. His wolf had loved it, being somewhere truly secure, truly safe, where he could run and play with others. Except the others had been Pack but not pack, his status as a stray separating him from them, making it so that he couldn't truly participate, so that his instincts warned him to either run or request admission to the pack.

He can't be a part of the pack, though. Even Courfeyrac wouldn't accept Cosette and all she knows; some of the others would surely be actively dangerous to her, and an image of Bahorel with his teeth sunk into Cosette's neck causes a growl to rise in Marius' throat.

"Or not, as you like." Courfeyrac studies him with pensive curiosity, but doesn't say anything more.

Bidding the female wolf goodbye, Marius flees toward his room, intent on keeping himself away from everyone until the full moon has passed.

XXX

Grantaire slinks through the pack's den, his head pounding, his blood itching, the full moon's rise just minutes away.

He's sober again, for the first time in something like thirty-six hours, mostly due to the intervention of Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta. Apparently watching him humiliate himself twice in twenty-four hours in front of their alpha had been enough to make them decide forcibly separating him from alcohol was necessitated.

He appreciates it. He loved the last full moon, loved being such an integral part of the pack, feeling their joy, joining with them as they all embraced their wolves. He wants to be able to share fully in that experience again, to touch his pack-bonds and feel what he should be able to feel from his pack-mates.

The pack gathers in their common room, in front of the smoldering fireplace. They won't need much heat tonight, almost certainly spending most of it in their fur, bedding down together wherever the desire takes them.

Grantaire doesn't meet anyone's gaze as he slinks into the far corner of the room. What's he supposed to say? How's he supposed to apologize again? Perhaps he shouldn't even try, given how poorly every other effort has gone.

He isn't allowed to stay in the corner, though. Bossuet pounces on him as the rest of the pack slowly trickles into the room, grabbing his arm and tugging him toward the rest. "Is it fair to say welcome back, Grantaire?"

"I haven't been gone." Grantaire mutters the words, his head tucked close to his chest, glancing up in quick snatches to study his pack-mates' faces.

"Depends on your definition of gone." Musichetta's head settles on Grantaire's shoulder from behind, and he hunches down as the female wolf embraces him. "You've been almost unreachable over the pack-bonds, at least for those of us who are mere mortals."

"Teasing Enjolras isn't really fair when he isn't here." Joly appears on Grantaire's other side, a bright, happy grin on his face.

"He'll be here shortly enough. Or if he isn't, there will be trouble." The easy way with which Bossuet says it causes Grantaire to relax, his mental lurch to touch his pack-bond with his alpha becoming a gentle probe rather than a desperate search. Enjolras is definitely in the house, close by, focusing intently on something.

"He and Combeferre are trying to finish a bit of work before the moon rises, as per usual." Courfeyrac's voice is cheerful, and he bounds up to them, energy in every move. "They'll be here before the time comes, though."

"I swear, they cut it closer with every moon." Feuilly and Monet wander into the room. There's amusement and fondness in Feuilly's words rather than censure, though. "One of these days he's going to end up Changing at that writing desk and destroying whatever he's working on, and the rest of us will get to say we warned him."

"Warned me about what?" Enjolras smiles as he and Combeferre enter the room.

Feuilly's face reddens, and he stutters out a few syllables that don't actually form an answer.

Monet laughs, hugging his mate tightly, and smiles at his alpha. "We'll tell you that you're wonderful and we love you, especially when you're not being reasonable."

Feuilly turns redder, if possible.

Enjolras' head tilts slightly, in mild perplexity, but it's affection and respect that swamps the pack-bonds. "All right, then. Is everybody ready?"

The pack murmurs general excited assents. Grantaire says nothing, his head tucked, his shoulders rolled forward, making himself as small and invisible as possible, hoping that Enjolras will just ignore him, focus on the wolves gathered around him who actually deserve to be here.

"Today is not a day for being glum—or, rather, tonight." Bahorel's voice rumbles through the air like thunder, resonating in Grantaire's chest as a hand forces his chin up. Not into a dominant position, but into a more passively submissive one, and Grantaire meets the black-haired male's green, green gaze for a moment.

Bahorel smiles, and for a moment Grantaire forgets how to breathe, a jolt of energy running through him, mingling with the fire-sharp sting of the moon's magic in his veins, urging him closer and closer to Changing.

Jehan's hand grabs Bahorel's, pulls it away from Grantaire's face, and the sensation fades away. "Be nice, Bahorel."

Still grinning, Bahorel folds his arms over his chest. "I am being nice. It's spring. It's the full moon. Everyone should enjoy it."

Not him. Not today. Not after everything that's happened.

But it's impossible not to feel the excitement, the rush, the buzz of energy collecting as the full moon edges closer and closer, and Grantaire can't keep from leaning against his pack-mates as all eyes turn to Enjolras.

"No howling." The same command, always the same command, the slight twist to Enjolras' lips that says he hates giving it, and Grantaire shudders as the order plants itself in his mind. "Nothing that will give us away. Otherwise, do as you will."

The pack's answering cry is soft, muted, a chorus of affirmations and suggestions amidst the rustle of clothing being discarded, and Grantaire finds himself swept up in the general tide.

The Change is coming.

He needs to be ready.

He needs to be unbound, free of clothing, able to bask in the moonlight even if it can't actually touch his skin, the pack's den safely separated from the outside world by walls and ceilings and thick curtains. His body knows the moon is there, though, and the power that it calls surges up in strengthening waves from within him.

There is no room for guilt in the energy building around them. There is no room for recriminations or doubts or hesitancies. There is only the pack, the smell of the pack-bonds, the touch of their minds against his, all ready, all waiting, all eager.

The change takes Enjolras first, a sudden violent shuddering of all his limbs, drops him to all fours in an ungainly fashion. Combeferre and Courfeyrac follow shortly, at the same time, Combeferre more graceful as he lowers himself to accommodate his shifting limbs, Courfeyrac grinning and making small, pleased sounds that are vaguely terrifying coming from his half-changed throat. The rest of the pack follows, their magic all drawn forth, drawn out of them, Changing them, and Grantaire settles himself on all fours and waits for his turn to come.

He loves it.

He loves the feel of his magic running wild, running free, turning him as it turns the others. No matter what else may be defective about him, he is still the Lady's creature, Changing to her bidding, and it feels absolutely wonderful.

He shakes his fur out as soon as the Change is finished, opening his mouth in a wide, happy pant, relishing the crisp, clean scents of his pack-mates around him. Who should he play with first? Who should he chase? Bossuet or Joly or Musichetta are always eager to play with him. Bahorel has been energetic and impatient the last few days, speaking often of the turning of the seasons. Probably he would relish a game or two. Jehan is always eager to tousle, though the poet has a bad habit of nipping ears. Feuilly might forgive him faster for his transgressions as a human if he can entertain the red-furred—

A blond form crashes into Grantaire before he knows that Enjolras is even moving, and he finds himself sprawling on his side, his ears pinned flat to his head, his own terror and uncertainty filling his nose.

The alpha had said it was all right if he stayed, but that had been yesterday, in human-skin. Has he done something to ruin that already? Or has the shedding of his human form reminded Enjolras of what he truly is, of the power he wields, of the importance of his decisions, and convinced him that dismissing Grantaire from the pack is the better course of action?

Enjolras' ears are pricked forward, his tail curled over his back, his blue eyes fixed unblinkingly on Grantaire's eyes as he stands over the prone submissive.

Closing his eyes, curving his neck to expose his throat more cleanly, Grantaire pins his tail to his belly and his ears flat on his head. Let Enjolras do what must be done. If the alpha doesn't want him—

Teeth touch his neck, gently, breath warm against his throat, and then a wet nose presses at Grantaire's muzzle. You are mine.

The words are human, a complete, if simple, thought thrust across the pack bonds. The emotions that follow them are complex, a mixture of human and wolf, and Grantaire opens his eyes in surprise. This is the Lady's time. For Enjolras to hold so tightly to his humanity, even now—

If you wish it, you are mine. Enjolras takes a step back, his head falling, his ears twisting back until they half-lay against his skull. If you don't, I will let you go or kill you.

There is reluctance underlying the words, but also honesty. If Grantaire chooses death, if the others ever think it necessary, he will carry out the execution, no one else, though it will hurt him deeply.

Yours. It's hard to hold the human words in his mind, but he will try, for this wolf. Always yours.

Then stand. Enjolras' voice is firm, but not a command.

If he wishes, Grantaire could stay here, stay submissive, stay subservient.

Stand. Please. Enjolras' ears press harder against his head.

Scrambling to his feet, Grantaire keeps his front legs half-bent, his head low.

Face me. Enjolras' front paws prance, small shuffling movements of excitement and pleasure. The ideas he sends over the pack-bonds become less words, more concepts, images, desires, though still with no compelling power behind them. Stand with me. Face me.

Raising his head slowly, pricking his ears forward, Grantaire forces himself to meet Enjolras' eyes.

Mine. Enjolras bows low, his tail starting to wave, an invitation to play. Power and passion slides along the pack-bonds, Enjolras reaching to pull all the members of the pack together. Mine, as I am yours.

Enjolras moves to bow low again, and Courfeyrac pounces upon him, breaking the spell that holds Grantaire facing him. Before Grantaire can recover properly Bahorel and Jehan descend upon him, and Grantaire finds himself at the center of a writhing mass of eager, playful, energetic wolves.

There is no more room for doubt or fear, as there is no more room for human words as they dash and tousle and yip and growl and nip at each other. They are a pack. They are strong, unbreakable, and this night is their night.

When the pack finally settles down for the night, Grantaire finds his head resting on Enjolras' front paws. Enjolras studies him for a moment, the alpha's beautiful, piercing blue eyes seeming to peer right through Grantaire to the center of his soul.

Enjolras' tongue slips out, licks gently between Grantaire's eyes. Then Enjolras allows his head to drop down, to rest gently against Grantaire's neck.

Combeferre's weight settles against Grantaire's side a moment later, the beta's warmth a solid presence against both Enjolras and Grantaire. Courfeyrac follows Combeferre, and then Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta are curled against Grantaire's other side. He can't tell where Jehan and Bahorel, Feuilly and Monet slide in, but he can smell them, hear them, feel their contentment over the pack-bonds, and he loses himself in their joy.

The whole pack is here, surrounding him, claiming him, as the light of the moon claimed his body earlier, and Grantaire falls asleep with a strange, uncertain emotion burning bright in his heart.

He thinks, as human thought slowly returns with the setting of the moon, that it might be hope.

Or, even more impossibly, peace.

XXX

Cosette finds herself unable to sleep.

She tosses and turns, her clothes tight and hot against her skin, her thoughts running in circles. After what seems like years but has been barely two hours she rises, pacing the confines of her room, unable to bear being still any longer.

She pauses at the window, throwing it open, basking in the coolness of the late winter air that feels perfect against her skin, in the scent of snow and growing things considering coming back to life, the light of the moon seeming to caress her skin like a living thing.

Is Marius looking up at the moon right now? Is he in his wolf form, his muzzle raised to cry silent love to his goddess?

She cannot bear to be inside anymore. Tossing on clothes and shoes in a haphazard rush, she wastes no time in freeing herself from the confines of the house.

The garden is walled, but the sky is beautiful and open above her, stars and moon shining down, and she finds herself shrugging out of her jacket before she is aware of what she's doing. Spreading her arms out to the side, she tilts her head back, allowing the moonlight to wash over her.

Her blood seems to sing in her veins.

Is this what Marius feels?

What is it like for him, under the bright weight of the full moon? What goes through his mind as his body twists, turns, becomes the beautiful creature that she first saw?

For a moment she can almost feel it, the weight of fur on her arms, the shifting of her bones, and a joyous whimper slips from her mouth.

Then the moment passes, and she is only Cosette, small human Cosette staring up at the sigil of a foreign god, separated from Marius on this night when he is most inhuman.

Shrugging her jacket back on, she retreats to her room, to her bed.

Sleep is still long in coming, and when it does she has strange but not unpleasant dreams of running on four feet and raising her voice in unfettered song to the stars.