.: Chapter Six :.
Home and Solace
The noise died along with the light as abruptly as they came. When Harry opened his eyes again he saw a smooth, cavernous arch had opened up, illuminated inside by a glowing light without a source. "That sound can only be heard by werewolves, it's on a frequency only we can hear," Greyback explained at the look on his face. "It alerts those posted at the gates inside that they have visitors, but the door can only be opened by one of our blood."
Better than the Fidelius, Harry thought, in some ways at least. Greyback was speaking with an air of pride and he understood why, he was obviously very protective and proud of his home. I probably would be too if I had one. He felt practically the same way about Hogwarts, which was the closest thing he knew to home.
"That's why you heard it, pet," Greyback said then, jerking Harry back from his thoughts. "Because you belong here, to us – you feel it in your gut even if you don't know it with your head."
Harry snorted, trying to seem indifferent and avoiding those blue eyes as he stepped first into the cavern. The cave wall closed in behind them but darkness did not fall. His jaw did, however, with sheer awe. Every inch of the carved rock that formed the vast walls, ceiling and floor glistened as if they were carved from illuminated moonstone. Every facet shone with blues, greens and pinks and as Harry reached out to touch them, he found that they were slightly warm, humming with light vibrations as if filled with their own, elemental magic.
"When you said cave," Harry began, staring around at the tunnel, "This isn't what I imagined." He couldn't keep the awe from his voice. Slender, irregular but beautiful columns stood floor to ceiling, radiating sunlight, as if they were channelling it somehow from above. Harry swore he could see a few clouds floating across their surface.
Beside him, Greyback chuckled and gestured him to follow him on through the tunnel. Harry fell into step beside him, his eyes still roving every inch of the tunnel as it curved slightly to the left. There were countless other directions to take, a maze of passageways and turn-offs and it looked like any one of them could have lead to the heart of the mountain, where he assumed the den would be.
Fenrir seemed to take a random path, left, left, right, straight on, right again. Harry felt quite dizzy with it all. Every turn looked the same; he could see how easy it would be to get lost and claustrophobic in here. "You've got your very own labyrinth," Harry said before he could stop himself. Greyback cocked his head to look down at him as they walked.
"No one except pack can get in, it's just an extra security measure. There's only one right route, any other will keep you circling the caves for eternity – or until the person on watch catches you, but trust me," his eyes looked full of dark promise all of a sudden, danger even. "If you're caught trespassing here, you'd rather you weren't found." His fangs were dazzling white in the light from the pillars and Harry raised a brow. He wasn't afraid of Greyback.
"I can believe it," he said, like a parent trying to pacify a child with the reply they wanted. "You said you had children in your pack though. Surely it's dangerous to have a bloody labyrinth in your own home?" He was only mildly curious, but he couldn't bear to lapse back into silence again. He swore he could hear low, grumbling snores echoing in the distance from the tunnels they didn't go down. What on earth did they have down here guarding them? He tried not to think of the stories he had heard at primary school, like that of the minotaur that had lurked within King Minos of Crete's legendary maze.
He shivered. To his annoyance, Greyback noticed. His large hand came to rest on Harry's shoulder. "There's nothing in here that'd harm you," the wolf said with what was no doubt meant to be reassuring promise.
Harry shrugged off his hand. "Like your pack wouldn't? Those three back there that nearly strangled me; they were my pack weren't they? How do I know they won't all try and throttle me?!" His voice echoed slightly around the cave as it rose.
Greyback scowled at him. "Weylyn always thinks with his prick first and Larentia is just a spiteful whore. There are humans like them in the outside world, every species has them. You are what those rogues called you, 'Alpha Numero' it means the only person in this pack who doesn't have to adhere to your whims is me." He paused then, tracing the shape of Harry's jaw with his coarse thumb. "And I think we can both compromise on each other's whims when we want to – like this morning, for instance…"
Harry flushed brightly and shoved Greyback away from him, panting hard. "Don't make fun of me, it pisses me off," he snarled, "and don't get any ideas about this morning either, it was a mistake and it won't happen again."
Greyback grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled him in close, their faces a hairsbreadth apart. Harry inhaled his breath and then held it, unwilling to take in anymore of the alpha's air. It was like an indirect kiss!
"I could take you right here on the floor and you would love every minute of it. You want me, pet. Why is that such a terrible thing?"
"Because I'm only here because you won't let me go!" Harry snapped. "It's like a prisoner falling for their gaoler–"
"The point is I could take you, knowing you would enjoy it but hate yourself and me afterwards, but I don't," Greyback cut across him, his voice and eyes unreadable.
"The only reason you don't is because you're trying to buy my forgiveness, my affection – your way into my good books, however you want to phrase it," Harry scoffed, pushing himself out of Greyback's grasp. But at the same time he knew also that if Greyback refused to let go, there was no way Harry would have been able to break free of his grasp.
A low growl rumbled in the alpha's throat. He did look angry now, barely in control of his temper. "I'm your pack leader. I don't bribe or buy good behaviour – I expect it!"
"What you expect and what you get are two different things. I'll never give you what you want, not willingly," Harry said darkly. "Even if that makes you retract your offer of sending your…men to help my friends." He grit his teeth, steeling himself, waiting for Greyback's temper to explode, as it seemed to be close to doing.
To his surprise, however, Greyback clenched his hands into fists and turned away, stalking off up the tunnel. It seemed like he was fighting against every muscle in his body that was drawn taut in desperation to hit Harry. "I don't break my promises," Greyback growled. "Hurry up."
Eventually light began to fill the tunnel from up ahead, a great expanse of light that somehow Harry just knew came from the outside world. He could feel it in his very skin, just as he had felt the oncoming of the moon. He could smell, taste the fresh air on his tongue. "Is the den on the other side of the mountain?" he asked, confused. They hadn't walked far enough to have walked the breadth of the monstrous mountain, of that he was sure.
"You'll see," was Greyback's only reply as the light at the end of the tunnel grew stronger.
Why was he walking alongside this werewolf alpha and convicted killer again? And so amiably?
Because there's no way out yet, he reminded himself. I can't escape him without a wand, not outright, but if Ron and Hermione figure out that I'm here after Greyback's 'messenger' visits them…
At last the end of the tunnel was before them. These were the gates, he supposed. Two great gates that completely blocked the gaping exit to the tunnel from ceiling to floor. They were forged from a thick yet elegantly entwined lattice of branches that grew from the ground. The same magically glistening leaves grew from them, yet they seemed to be rooted deep in the ground. It was as if they were still alive. Were they? He opened his mouth to voice his question but Greyback beat him to speech.
"It's me Echo, open up." At those words a figure appeared on the other side of the rustic gates. He was only a few inches taller than Harry, with tousled short rusty bronze hair that hung into his dark, calculating eyes – eyes that lingered over him until Greyback spoke again.
"Harry this is Echo, my beta. Echo this is Harry, my mate."
Harry knew vaguely that that word meant Echo was a 'second' of sorts to the alpha of the pack. What made his thought process halt momentarily, however, was the sound of his first name for the first time on Greyback's lips. It felt…odd but nowhere near as bad as he would've liked it to be.
Echo nodded slowly to them both, his eyes falling on Harry one more time before he silently reached up and grabbed a hold of the bright white blossom that Harry only just noticed, rooted into the centre of where the gates joined. Once Echo held the crisp white bloom in his hand, the roots that wound around the two edges of the gates seemed to recoil away like uneasy serpents and the gates opened. Harry stepped out into the light along with Greyback and once again, Harry's jaw nearly dropped to the floor.
They weren't on the other side of the mountain. They were inside the mountain. Harry stood in a momentous expanse of lush grass, a circular savannah with the mountain's walls reaching high and protective around them. It was if nature was embracing them, caring for them. The sun bathed the grassland, so perfect it could have been a paradisiacal oasis.
At the centre, the rich grass rose slightly into a hill decorated with a great willow tree that's long sweeping branches hung into a pond. Children were gathered around it, giggling playfully as they splashed each other or chased the birds and frogs nearby. Other smaller trees were scattered about. Far to the right there was a large level area, circular again but paved with the same opal-like stone from inside the cave, like a courtyard. In the middle of this stood a large stone circle that housed a body of dancing flames.
Some people were gathered around the fire, evidently preparing for the meal to be brought in from the 'hunt'. Others were scattered about hanging laundry or entertaining other small children, whilst the others seemed to be tending to a thriving vegetable patch to the opposite side of the clearing to the stone 'courtyard' area.
Harry stepped forward without thinking. Flowers that flourished in a myriad of colours graced the ground and Harry had to fight the desire to kick off his shoes and let his toes sink into the plush grass. This was definitely not what he had expected when Greyback had said 'cave'.
The walls of the mountain were dotted with rounded doors made of dark wood that lead into, what Harry could only assume where the homes of the people here – the pack. Your pack, the wolf in him whispered encouragingly; Harry tried not to listen to it. He couldn't be thinking like that. It wasn't his decision. That decision had already been made for him the night Voldemort 'marked him as his equal' – even if he had wanted to call this place home, he couldn't. Not that he did.
"Alright?" Greyback asked him, clearly confused as he came to stand just behind him. Harry turned quickly, stumbling back a few paces to put a more comfortable distance between them. He noticed that the gates had locked behind them again and Echo was close by, watching them avidly.
"Yeah," Harry answered slowly, very conscious of the other man watching him. He wasn't sure what to make of him yet. He suddenly felt very aware as well that he was now in Greyback's home and that everyone had stopped what they were doing to look at the strange new arrival. He was an intruder in their secret, safe world within the mountain's embrace.
"Greyback," Harry began, certain that he must feel the air of interest and apprehension in the pack approaching them. Greyback however, only stood straighter, with no flicker of concern emanating from him. He seized Harry by the waist and hauled him closer, quieting Harry's imminent argument with a small growl.
"Be still, pet, you're their alpha's mate–"
"I don't belong here," Harry hissed under his breath and he felt Greyback's irritation pique, but before he could act on that, the pack were gathered around them. There were men, women and children of varying builds. Harry scolded himself for being surprised at how normal, well kept and happy they all looked. They seemed ecstatic to see Greyback at any rate and generally confused about his, Harry's presence here.
They can smell Greyback all over me probably, Harry realised wretchedly.
"You were away for a few days this time, Alpha," a soft-voiced woman with greying, auburn hair said, shifting a toddler up on her hip as she surveyed Harry with wonder, before looking back to Greyback again. She reached up (only a few inches taller than Harry herself) and ran her fingers through Greyback's mane. Harry was surprised to feel jolt of irritation, the urge to swat the woman's hand away.
I cannot be jealous of Greyback, he scolded himself. It must be an instinctual thing…
"You'll have to let me cut your hair, Fenrir, it's growing positively wild," she said and Greyback gave her a small smile, one that made Harry's insides clench. Perhaps werewolf mates were not monogamous? Or perhaps since Harry hadn't bound them fully (hadn't bit Greyback) the alpha had freedom to flirt and smile at others as he pleased? Stop it, Harry snapped at himself, the jealousy leaving a vile taste in his mouth.
"Later," Greyback said, placating her. His hand on Harry's waist tightened again, but whether it was meant as reassurance or was just a simple reaction to the emotions Greyback must feel radiating from him, Harry wasn't sure. "Tergarletum kept me longer than expected," Greyback explained to the others, causing Harry's brow to furrow with confusion. What the hell was Tergarletum?
"That and the speed of your journey back was impeded by your companion," Echo said from beside them. It was a statement, not a question. Harry could not decipher either disapproval or acceptance in his expression – he was completely unreadable.
"You've scented him, haven't you?" Echo asked, the smallest of smirks touching his lips. Harry could not help but flush at the sight of it as Echo murmured with an air of teasing, "I could smell it before you even reached the end of the tunnel; he's truly your mate, Alpha?"
Greyback smirked at his beta, who seemed to be talking to Greyback as if they were…friends, perhaps? "He is and he carries the recessive gene," he murmured, his tone thick with both pride and protectiveness. Harry didn't know that he cared for either. He just felt awkward standing there under so many stares, as if he were back at Hogwarts during those terrible times they had thought he was the heir of slytherin, or lying about Voldemort's return and Cedric's death.
Harry growled under his breath before he could stop himself, an instinctive, wolfish urge he didn't have the chance to quell. Everyone fell silent. Greyback turned to look at him but it was Echo who spoke. "I don't know that your mate cares for being spoken about as if he isn't there, Alpha," he mused, stepping forward to offer his hand to Harry.
The human gesture was made purposefully to make him feel more comfortable, Harry knew and that was the main reason that he accepted the beta's hand, appreciating the effort he had made. "Thanks," Harry muttered, trying to breeze over the growl that had fallen from his lips. "I'm Harry, by the way," it was an unnecessary introduction, he knew that but it felt better to establish himself properly, with his own lips.
Echo's impassive expression morphed into a warm smile. "Even werewolves know who you are, Harry Potter," he said, causing a few of the young ones gathered around to gasp. They too had heard stories of 'the chosen one' Harry realised, despite their secluded lifestyle. Releasing Echo's hand, Harry nodded slowly.
"It's my name not a title, I'd appreciate it if you didn't treat me any differently just because of a few lucky escapes from–" he barely held back from saying the now taboo name that had landed him in all this mess, "Him."
At this, the woman who had touched Greyback's hair with the blond tot in her arms moved toward him, also smiling as if she were his favourite teacher or long-lost relative. "My name is Amoux, Harry," she said warmly, "and you will be treated differently. Not because of what has happened to you, but because of what you are. You're a very precious gift to our kind, a treasure and our Alpha Numero. We hope you will be happy here." She glanced at Echo as if for reassurance and then held out her hand, mimicking his gesture from before, as if she didn't truly understand what it meant, only that it was important to Harry.
Harry swallowed, not sure how he felt about the lump rising in his throat and took a step back from her, away from all of them. He just wanted to be away from here, from all of this. It was far too painful to bear, akin to the misery he'd felt looking in on the love and the home Dudley had had growing up whilst he'd had nothing. It was everything he longed for waved cruelly in front of his face when he knew full well he could not accept it – that decision wasn't his to make, even if he wanted to find it here.
It was not the time or the place.
Evidently sensing his distress, Greyback reached out for him again but Harry leapt back as if his hand were a red-hot branding iron. "Don't," he said, clearing his throat to try and rid his voice of the quavering emotion there. "I'm sorry," he tried again, addressing the pack this time. They all wanted him here, just because he had this recessive gene or ability? Or was every newcomer accepted with such compassion and understanding? It hurt everywhere to contemplate.
"There's some mistake," he said, "I don't belong here, I'm not… There are things I have to do. I have responsibilities. You've heard of Him, right? Well I have to stop him; I can't stay here and play happy families. I can't hide here like a coward while everyone I love is out there fighting for a mission that only I can finish."
Amoux did step closer then, setting her toddler down. The bright-eyed tot with curly blond locks (evidently not of her blood) tottered forwards, reaching up for Harry, who frowned in confusion down at him. "Our pack know each other by scent before sight," Amoux explained patiently with a smile. Everyone was still watching. "Vilkas wants to smell you."
Harry's frown did not dissipate, rather it intensified at her explanation but he leant down regardless. He was somehow under the power of the infant's vulnerable eyes and he allowed the boy to set his hands on his cheeks, to lean in so that their faces were nearly touching, nose to nose. His instincts, again, he realised.
Their young and the young of the pack ruled the subs. Harry knew that somehow and he felt the boy inhale deeply, once, twice and then a smile broke across his painfully beautiful face. Harry felt his breath stick in his lungs.
"I think you know Harry, this is why you're so unsettled inside," Amoux whispered as she leant down to draw her adopted son back into her arms. "Your soul wants one thing while the human guilt in you feels indebted to another. Let your pack, your mate help you with this burden. Your concerns are ours now, just as ours are yours."
Harry shook his head, wanting to recoil but unable to move while the child's eyes held him. He wanted to embrace him the way Amoux was embracing him now. It felt so odd, so unnerving. "I'm going mad with all these instincts inside me that aren't bloody mine," he part whispered, part gasped with hoarse exhaustion, not realising he had spoken aloud until Amoux answered him.
"All turned wolves feel that way when they are first changed, especially one turned and then mated so quickly. It is confusing for you, but Fenrir did it so that you could not be claimed by others less…worthy." Her eyes darkened briefly and Harry thought of those like Conall and his cohorts who had tried to rape him, who wanted to share him around and breed him like some prized horse. He cringed. He felt quick sick. Maybe he would be sick.
Suddenly, a warm hand, slightly smaller than Greyback's touched his shoulder. Harry glanced up from his reverie to find Echo standing above him. Why were they all so concerned about him when they didn't even know him? Was it because they all knew how damaging these instincts were to him?
They understand that it's driving me insane, Harry realised, they know I'm about to break.
But why did they care? That was what he couldn't understand more than anything else. He had unwittingly, unwillingly joined their pack because Greyback had fucked him – that was all. They hadn't chosen him as their own. Why was he being welcomed so warmly? It was just how it had been his first time at the Weasleys; welcomed as if he were worth something and he understood it even less now than he had then.
"Let the alpha take you to your den, you should rest," Echo said, "And when you're a bit more settled, we will hold a feast to celebrate your arrival."
Harry's belly churned at the thought of a feast. Truly, food was the last thing on his mind but rest… Yes. He wished he could sleep forever, it would be so much less complicated. It would surely make the confused ache, the clashing myriad of emotions in his chest and head fade away.
There were more words but he didn't register them, only that Greyback was urging him away from the discomfiting crowds – his presence both infuriating and soothing at the same time. He lead Harry to a round, dark wood door and hesitated only briefly before he pushed it open for him. It was warm inside and softly lit with the same columns of light that the cave had been adorned with.
Inside the den the walls were smooth, carved from the same sparkling opal-like rock from before. A set of wide rustic shelves housing furs, blankets and clothes stood near the entrance. A little further in a cozy but generous sized fire was burning and the flames seemed to stoke themselves as Greyback opened the door, as if sensing his presence. Yet there was no smoke. This place was built with magic, it seemed.
Around the fire a semicircle of lush thick furs and pillows formed a seating arrangement. Just behind it, the floor was raised slightly to form the segregated sleeping area and on top of it, in the far right corner stood a large bed of furs. A semi-transparent curtain hung around it that flowed like water as the breeze from the outside tickled its hem, presumably to offer the sleeper privacy whilst others were in the den. However despite the fact that there was (no doubt) space for a family in here, it looked as if Greyback lived here alone.
Until now, his instincts purred gratifyingly. He snarled inwardly at the eagerness in its voice.
"That archway on the far left leads to a small spring," Greyback explained. "Each of the dens have one, our ancestors channelled them. They clean and replenish themselves. It's a luxury a lot of packs don't have." He sounded peculiar, as if he wanted Harry to like it, as if he wanted to impress him with his home. Oddly, Harry could understand that though and he nodded in acceptance. He did owe Greyback his life a few times over now, after all.
Even if he is the reason I'm in this situation in the first place.
"What's Tergarletum?" Harry asked without really caring about the answer, simply eager to quell the uneasy feeling that reared up as silence fell between them. He felt…odd. Not quite 'emotional' but definitely not himself. The idea of collapsing into the bed in the far corner and not waking up was far too appealing – he didn't like it.
"The Dark Lord goes by many names," Greyback murmured. "Werewolves have called him by that name since he first rose to power, his other names didn't suit our tastes. He is no lord over us, we do not fear to speak his name and the one he chose for himself isn't easily used without disastrous results – as you found out first hand," Greyback said, his thoughts in another place as he gazed at Harry. He seemed to be trying to ascertain his mood.
Harry merely nodded again, pleased somehow that Greyback didn't give Voldemort the satisfaction of calling him by any of his preferred names. He respected him for it. Greyback stepped towards him then, gauging Harry's reaction as he reached out and tilted Harry's chin up to better look into his face.
"You know the reason for the unsettled feelings inside you, don't you?" Greyback murmured. Harry frowned but the alpha didn't give him chance to interrupt. "It's because our bond is incomplete. You're torn between two worlds and it'll stay that way until you mark me and seal our union."
Harry blanched. "I don't want that," he growled in irritation. "Why can't you and your bloody pack–?"
"Our pack–"
"Why can't you understand that I'll feel like shit until you let me go," Harry shouted over him. "Whatever you say, I don't want to be here. Even if I do want to belong here, belong to you like you seem to think I do subconsciously or whatever, the longer I stay here the more people will get hurt. People are dying because of Him and I'm the only one who can stop him. I don't want anyone else to die because I was too slow, too stupid or thoughtless to do what I've been chosen to do!"
Greyback snarled and seized him by his shoulders. "Chosen by who, eh?" he snapped. "What generous patron laid that kind of responsibility on a kid of seventeen?"
"As opposed to being chosen for the responsibility of bringing children into a loveless relationship at seventeen?" Harry bit back venomously.
Greyback snorted. "You were born to bring children into the world. I chose you because I wanted you and to protect you from Him, from arseholes like Conall and his brothers. But I know you want me and no one said I would be forcing you to conceive anything at seventeen," he sneered. "You're still a kid yourself. You've got plenty to learn and plenty of fucking up to do before you're ready."
Harry glared, torn between shock at the notion that Greyback didn't expect him to breed right away and outraged that the bastard assumed that Harry would allow it at all! Before he could even open his mouth to respond, however, Greyback continued with offended irritation. "I told you that you would get to choose and I never break my promises. You may be pissed off with the way things began between us, call it force if you want but I won't be forcing you to carry anything."
Harry frowned. "I told you, I'll never want to carry anything of yours inside me. I don't care if my body was made to do…this. Loads of women across the world decide not to do what their bodies were made for and I'm siding with them." His tone was bitter, sharp and unyielding, perhaps a little childish even but he didn't care.
"You will want to one day, trust me," was all that Greyback said. "But the point is, you've dealt with enough shit because of Him, the way I've heard it. Let the people who started this bloody mess fix their own problems."
"I can't Fenrir!" Harry shouted. It might have been the undeniable frustration and despair in his voice, but Harry thought it was his unintentional use of the werewolf's name that caused the alpha to look at him and listen for the first time since he'd woken in that barn, marked as his mate.
Those unfathomable azure eyes glistened with an emotion Harry couldn't place and Greyback's handse h
slid up from his shoulders to cup his neck. Those large hands hauled him in so that he tumbled against the werewolf's chest and the beast leant down to nose into his hair, emitting a soothing, purring growl. Harry couldn't help it, instinctually he answered with a low whine and closed his eyes, tipping his head back and allowing it to go limp in Greyback's grasp.
This is what Ron and Hermione feel like when they hold each other. This is what lovers feel when they comfort each other, that voice whispered in his mind as he relished in the feel of Greyback's heat warming him. This is what solace feels like. Another thing nobody had ever offered him before and he would never admit it aloud, but he was grateful for his instinctual reaction to the touch.
Greyback nuzzled closer, growling softly against his neck and the hair that curled there just under his ear. Harry's knees shuddered and he instinctually reached out, scraping at those meaty arms with his nails and crooning in response. "For once in your life let someone else fix things for you," Greyback whispered coarsely in his ear, nipping at the fleshy lobe just under his lips.
Harry groaned, gripping Greyback tighter for an infinitesimal second, before beginning to struggle. "No, I don't want…" A sharp nip at the place where his pulse pounded against the vulnerable skin of his throat choked him into silence.
"Be still," Greyback demanded, manoeuvring his knee between Harry's legs and swiping at his ankles to send them both tumbling into the plush seating area around the fire. He shoved the cloak off Harry's shoulders roughly, tugging his shirt up to rest under his chin. With a low grumble, his teeth grazed Harry's torso, chasing the shadows on his skin created by the dancing flames.
"I will kill Him if that's what it takes. I'll rip his bloody throat out so you don't have to," Greyback swore against Harry's skin, his stubble tickling Harry's chest…
"You're sensitive because you've never known pleasure or comfort. It heightens your reactions to me," Greyback murmured. "That' why you collapsed into me just now. You deny what you are, what you want until you can take no more. Haven't you seen what denying the truth of yourself has done to your Lupin?"
Harry froze at that. He knew exactly what Greyback meant. Greyback, Conall, Echo and Cannagan, all the other wolves were healthier, stronger, happier because they had accepted what they were and more than that, their wolf forms were more… He scowled at himself for thinking 'beautiful', remembering the silver wolf he had fallen asleep with more than once already. No, Remus' wolf was a sickly, twisted cross between wolf and man, yet it was neither. It was an embodiment of the infirmed, confused self-loathing that plagued Remus' soul. He had never realised how hard Remus was on himself until he had met Greyback.
"You did that to him," Harry murmured, his voice devoid of emotion and still husky from arousal he could not dismiss at will.
"Yes," Greyback said, his words just as impassive. "And I'd take it back if I could."
Harry's head flew back round and he stared up at Greyback in shock. "Would you?"
Greyback's eyes narrowed. "Yes, pet," he replied simply, the next nip at his flesh slightly appraising but Harry thought he knew what thoughts were lurking behind those darkening blue eyes. He didn't want Harry to end up living a half-life of self-hatred like Remus. Harry didn't know what to think of that.
Suddenly Greyback began to lap at him with tickling decisiveness…
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Fenrir was in awe of him. Never before had he, Fenrir Greyback rutted with a lover purely to seek his partner's satisfaction and ignored his own. On the contrary, he had always loved responsive partners but he had always been selfish with his pleasure and had certainly never derived his own purely from bringing another to orgasm. His boy was certainly a gift, one in a million.
"And all mine," he murmured to himself, reaching across to brush those dark sweaty locks from his mate's forehead. The scar stood out like a beacon of disaster on that pale flesh and his thumb swept across it soothingly before he stood up. He seized the fur cloak he had discarded from his mate's body earlier and dropped it over the now dozing form.
The boy was getting even more worked up and anxious about things because their bond remained incomplete. Fenrir could feel the wrongness of their incomplete union in his very skin. He needed a good fucking to unleash some of those denied instincts, he thought, crossing to the door and opening it. As he did, however, the boy stirred, yet his eyes remained closed.
"Why do you all seem to care so much about me?" the boy asked quietly and Fenrir's brow furrowed. It was true, it had been but a few days but so much had happened and both circumstance and instincts had hastened the process of them getting better acquainted with one another.
"The pack is mostly made up of turned werewolves, only a few of us here were born into it. They know what you're going through, they empathise with you," he explained. "And it's my job to take care of you, you're mine and let's face it, you need me."
For a moment or two the boy said nothing in answer, and then…
"If you gave a shit about me at all you'll let me go," that quiet voice whispered and Fenrir heard the unspoken addition of 'It'll kill me if anyone else dies because I couldn't save them.' The boy didn't need to say it aloud, he'd alluded to it enough earlier; Fenrir could feel it rolling off of him in waves.
"It's because I give a shit that I can't let you," Fenrir said, and a bitter smirk touched his lips. "You're lucky I value your life more than your opinion of me." The boy could pout and sulk and claim to hate him all he wished, he wasn't going to rush off like some headstrong cub and get himself killed.
Fenrir stepped over the threshold, pausing with his hand on the door. "I made a promise to you and I keep my promises," he reminded him, not for the first nor last time and closed the door behind him, stepping out into the afternoon sun. Why he was wasting so much time on the boy's comfort when he seemed determined to be miserable, Fenrir wasn't sure. All he knew was that the scent of his melancholy left a bad taste in his mouth. It was part of his instincts and their bond, he knew this of course, but he hadn't expected it to be so…potent.
He had not walked a few feet from the door when he saw Weylyn, Larentia and Marrok lugging their kill to the nearby courtyard area where the cooking fire was already building. Usually the adults shared the hunting and food preparation duties, but taking on the responsibility was a common punishment for wrongdoers. "You three," he barked at them, watching with amusement as their attention snapped up from skinning the meaty stag they had caught. They wisely kept their faces respectfully downturned; evidently realising they had not earned their forgiveness yet.
And will not for some time, Fenrir thought, sneering visibly at them. "We'll hold a celebration feast in my mate's honour," he said, noting that while the two males remained impassive, Larentia had an odd look in her eyes.
"The bitches want to welcome him, Alpha?" she asked stiffly, as if the term 'bitches' (meaning the subs in the pack) did not also apply to her.
"We hold a feast for any newcomer," he reminded her bluntly. She would end up serving a far longer punishment sentence than Marrok and Weylyn, he thought, she still held far too much bite in her voice. "I'll give you three days to prepare, the best, is that clear?" he snarled. All three nodded at this, but he felt Larentia deserved another task.
"My mate needs clothes, the better quality you bring me the shorter your punishment is likely to be," he considered her briefly, before adding, "don't disappoint me again, Larentia."
Inclining her head a fraction so as to see his expression but not look him directly in the eyes, Larentia asked innocently, enquiringly, "He's a breeder; do you require maternity wear also, Alpha?"
Fenrir's face remained unaffected. "That won't be necessary, no," he said, not knowing what to think of the fact that her mood seemed to improve on hearing his answer.
"I will fetch him the best that Shae can offer," she said brightly, before returning to tend to the stag along with Marrok and Weylyn. Fenrir watched her carefully for a moment longer, certain that he knew less and less about subs with each passing day. They were so fickle…
"How fares your new mate, Alpha?" an approaching voice asked and Fenrir turned, offering Echo a smirk. The wolf was roughly the same age as him, yet the years Fenrir had spent in Azkaban had aged him more than his beta – though he still didn't look his age. Echo was still youthful in appearance, his eyes the only betraying factor, shining knowingly as they looked on him. He was perhaps his most trusted friend in their pack and so it was amusing that even after all these years his beta (a man he had tussled with as a cub) still called him 'Alpha' as opposed to his given name.
"He's…difficult," Fenrir grunted, glancing back to the closed oak door before tipping his head skyward, embracing the sun on his stubbly face as if it held the answers to his problems. "I'm used to the violent mood-swings, many of the younglings we've brought into the pack have reacted oddly at first but with him it's…different." He didn't like to admit it but this was different, because his instincts were snarling at him brutally for allowing his mate to remain so…distressed. He was his mate now, he had sworn himself to him under the moon – he should fix it!
That and the moon is bearing down on me for not earning his mark, a voice at the back of Fenrir's mind whispered. Just then, he felt Echo's reassuring hand on his shoulder. He turned and looked into that face framed by short, unruly bronze hair. "He's a fiery one, that's why he suits you so well but it also means you'll have to be even more patient with him. He's not the standard sub, or even the standard breeder, if there could be such a thing," Echo said with a smile. "He reminds me of Shae."
Fenrir snorted at that to hide his discomfort, but he too had held the same thought just earlier that morning. "He's got a temper on him, pride and stubbornness–"
"Those are probably the main reasons you were drawn to him," Echo smirked. "You didn't give him much of a courting period, you'll have to be patient and help him settle in. He'll come to feel more at home here the better he gets to know you, the sub in him is probably wary of so much newness and all at once."
Fenrir nodded thoughtfully, this was why they made such a good pack. While he, Fenrir was not exactly renowned for his thinking skills (more for his ruthlessness and brute strength than anything else) Echo was wise enough for the both of them. He had wanted to give the boy more of a 'courting period' but circumstance and the proximity of Conall and his mutts had driven them together quicker than expected.
"You know who he is, don't you, Echo?" he asked gruffly, watching the sun begin its slow descent beyond the edge of the mountain that protected them.
"It would appear that you took The Chosen One, Saviour of the Wizarding World as your mate, Alpha," Echo replied. Fenrir could hear the barely concealed amusement in his voice. "You'll have to tell me how you managed to spirit him away from Tergarletum. Rumour had it that he'd captured the boy."
Fenrir nodded. "Later," he promised, before continuing with what he wanted to say. "The boy has been raised to kill Him."
All amusement in Echo's voice vanished. "He will die before he gets close enough, Tergarletum ensured everyone knew what the boy was suffering while he was held captive. It was all over that wizard newspaper of theirs." Echo winced. "So that is why he would not bind himself to you fully? He feels bound to this prescribed destiny of killing Him?"
Fenrir growled. It was not pleasant to know that Echo (and the rest of the pack) could smell that Harry had not bitten him back, had refused to finalise their bond. It was the ultimate humiliation for any werewolf, much less the alpha! "He was captured by Him while he was with his friends," he said, trying to shake off the irritation, the voice in his head telling him to storm back into the den and force the boy to complete their binding. "The friends escaped, I want you to send Lupa and Hemming to them – they were so far up each other's arses that they're ripe with Harry's scent, they shouldn't be hard to find."
Echo raised a brow, "Alpha?" he asked, seemingly confused.
"The boy wants them to know he's safe. Tell them to let them know he's alright but not where he is." Yes, Lupa had been a changeling of his father's and Hemming was probably as loyal as they came. They were good choices. "Tell them to help them in any way necessary without revealing to Him that we're doing it."
Echo was staring at him carefully, as if trying to decipher the reasons behind this. "You hope if you send two of our best out to help his friends with this quest, Harry will be less inclined to run away?"
Fenrir snorted. "He can run all he wants, he won't get far from me," he muttered. "But it might stop him from giving out these…these bloody waves of misery. They're driving me mad!"
"Ah, and here I was thinking that Fenrir Greyback was doing something selfless just to please his new young mate?" Echo murmured, an air of playfulness in his deep voice. Fenrir glared. He did not appreciate being teased and his expression quickly snuffed the sound from Echo's voice when the man continued. "It's natural, you're still courting in a sense since your bond is incomplete. Your instincts understand you better than you do, you know that, Alpha. If you and Harry both listen to them first and foremost, that is the quickest way for you both to find happiness."
Fenrir opened his mouth to speak, but as he did so, the wind whisked across the glade, ushering a sweet scent into his nostrils. He turned on the spot and saw the boy watching him from the doorway, clearly eavesdropping. Oddly enough, despite the disrespectfulness of the notion however, Fenrir didn't care. Let the boy see I keep my promises, that he can and must rely on me in this stupid war…
"I will give Lupa and Hemming their orders now, Sir," Echo murmured, breaking the odd silence that had fallen. He gave both Harry and Fenrir a small respectful bow and then departed, leaving Harry and Fenrir staring at each other. The boy looked thoughtful, clearly contemplating something. Fenrir, meanwhile, did not welcome the fact that still he had to court the boy, despite the fact that he'd come undone beneath him more than once now. It was like taking two steps forward and one step back.
Yes, subs were fickle. How many times did he have to seduce him? He frowned. He'd never had to really seduce his partners before. They had all rolled happily beneath him – him, Fenrir Greyback, powerful and insidious. This boy was different, he required more than a tumble in the grass or two to win over. Because he's worth more than that, a voice whispered. And that makes you want him more, makes you relish his surrender more because it's that much harder to win.
He'd always thought he knew all there was to know about taking a mate.
He knew it was because of their incomplete bond that he felt so…peculiar, but knowing the source did not help to appease his frustration any. He held the boy's gaze for a moment longer, before turning away. He needed to unleash his tension on something else. He needed a run or something – anything so that he would not go back to the boy with this frustration. If he did, he might say or do something he would regret. Like fuck him into the ground like he begged me to, he thought gruffly, knowing full well that the brat would have bawled like a child with self-loathing afterwards, as if laying beneath him was something to be ashamed of.
He snarled under his breath, his frustration increasing the more he thought on it. The boy would be the exposure of his barely leashed temper, he was sure of it. Was this what his parents had gone through? What every mated pair endured? Was it because the boy was a bearer or simply because he was Harry Potter? Fenrir grumbled in irritation. He had a feeling it was both.
The boy was the biggest pain in the arse he had ever taken into his pack, was the only one to give him such lip, such trouble. And yet all you can think about is heading back there and having another tumble across the den floor.
Shut up! He admonished, shoving Weylyn aside and taking his place in skinning and gutting the stag. Yes, ripping the flesh and innards from something was the perfect solution to unleashing his rage.
Greyback didn't return to the den after Harry had retreated back into it and Harry hadn't ventured back out, not even when he heard the voice of the she-wolf from earlier, Amoux calling him to dinner. The light from the columns reaching from floor to ceiling had dimmed a fraction, the opalescent glimmering walls sparkling soothingly as Harry lay sprawled across the plush seating area by the fire.
Greyback had kept his word (or had appeared to at least) and had dispatched two of his finest to let Ron and Hermione know he was safe, to help them. But not to let them know where you are, his mind supplied. Oh yes, Greyback had been very careful to specify that. So what would happen now? Would Ron and Hermione figure it out anyway? It had been said over and over that Hermione wasthe brightest witch of her age, he couldn't believe she wouldn't figure it out. But even if she did, they couldn't find the den without a pack member's aid.
His head hurt with all the possibilities and his empty belly churned angrily with the unknown. Greyback may have kept his word but he was still a murderer, had still forced him here and all his good deeds seemed to be done only for his own gain. He wants me to spread my legs willingly, like I did earlier, he thought wretchedly, curling his hands into fists, digging his nails spitefully into his own palms.
It hadn't been just the instincts and hormones, he had enjoyed what Greyback did to him earlier. Even he had to admit (to himself if not aloud) that it had been the best he had ever felt. I have to get out of here before I forget who I am completely. He must have dozed at some point, because when he awoke the noise of a happy meal outside had died, along with the painfully delicious smells of food and when Harry pushed the door open a fraction, he found the outside valley deserted.
The world was bathed in ethereal moonlight beyond the den. It was still except for the willow swaying gently with the breeze in a slow dance. He'd re-dressed himself and was glad for the fur cloak around his shoulders as the cool night hit him the moment he stepped outside.
The doors to the other dens were shut, the fire at the centre of the courtyard area had died and the only brightness lighting his way came from the skies above. All the better for escaping, he thought. He crept across the dell with quietness and skill that not even years of sneaking around Hogwarts could have given him. It was the werewolf blood one of his parents had unwittingly passed down that aided him now.
Harry could feel the way the ground shifted under his feet, the way the wind hit him and his body adapted to move against it all soundlessly. Was this what Greyback had meant when he'd said he'd come into his 'werewolf powers'? He didn't feel stronger really, but certainly more adept, more nimble. He didn't know that he liked that he was changing but if it helped him to escape tonight…
Making his way over to the gate he and Greyback had stepped through earlier, he found it (oddly) without a guard. He inhaled the air deeply, but the surroundings were so full of scents that his growing senses were unable to tell if anyone was nearby. He spied the blossom that the beta wolf, Echo had plucked from the vines, which were again wrapped like chains around the impenetrable wooden gates. Would it react somehow to his touch? Or was it as Greyback had said, he was part of the pack now? There was only one way to tell, he supposed.
Leaning up on his tiptoes with an arm outstretched, Harry just managed to skim the blossom with his fingertips. Suddenly, movement behind him sent him whirling around on instinct, bringing him face to face with the bronze-haired beta wolf himself. Shit. He'd been caught!
Unreadable blue eyes were focused on his face calculatingly and though Echo only stood a few inches above his own height, Harry could not help but feel that he was still as intimidating as Greyback and the other, bulkier wolves. Harry shifted slightly, trying not to betray his unease. Perhaps it was the sub in him but he felt the need to move back, move back and yet raise his chin and demand submission at the same time. He was the alpha's bitch but the union wasn't fully bound. It almost physically hurt it was so confusing. He felt torn. He didn't know what to do.
Caught between the two instincts, those of an alpha numero and those of a sub, he snapped his head to the side, wincing in pain. What was this unbearable confusion in his chest? It was like someone was crushing his lungs! He couldn't breathe properly. It was as if the airways of a sub and alpha moved in two different ways and until he knew which he was, he would remain poised like this on the edge of both. Torn.
"I can't let you go," Echo said, his voice low and calm. His eyes shone darkly in the night. The moon illuminated his tanned face and Harry could not see any expression or mood there. It was completely vacant. His skin tingled oddly, unpleasantly. He was both unmated and mated at once, another source of disorientating confusion…
Grinding his teeth together determinedly, he forced himself to face the werewolf again and barked out harshly, "well I'm not bloody going back!" He dropped unceremoniously to the floor and laid back against mountainside, saying clearly with his body that he wasn't moving from that spot. To his surprise, rather than haul him to his feet and drag him back, Echo merely watched him, the smooth line of his mouth cracking into a small smile.
"Well, I'd best keep you company then," he said conversationally, sitting down a few feet from Harry in the same slightly inclined position, his back against the wall of the mountain. The werewolf turned his head skyward, staring at the stars with placid contemplation radiating from him in waves. He looked so content and at peace with himself and the world. Harry envied him.
"Where's Greyback?" Harry asked cautiously. It was odd that the bastard hadn't come back to the den; he'd never left him out of his sight for too long before if he could help it. But perhaps the fact that his pack, his spies would prevent Harry from leaving allowed him to continue about his daily activities. He'd already gotten what he wanted from me earlier anyway, Harry thought bitterly. Except, he hadn't really, had he? Greyback hadn't come at all earlier; it'd been him, Harry that'd had all the pleasure. His throat tightened treacherously at the thought. Why hadn't the git asked for anything in return? Or taken it even, as was in his character?
"The Alpha is sleeping in my den, I have enough room, being a bachelor," Echo answered, his voice polite and kind yet devoid of emotion. "He decided to board in my den to give you some…space on your first night. Newcomers to the pack often need some time to adjust. Some require more than others."
Harry frowned, thoughtful. That didn't sound like Greyback, wanting to give him space. The arse wanted him and he would do anything to get it. Include leave you alone to try and lull you into a false sense of security and pounce on you when you least expect it, his mind supplied. Harry's jaw tensed. "Do you get many newcomers?" he asked, trying to shove that errant image from his mind. He didn't know why, but he liked Echo.
He reminded him of Dumbledore in a strange way, calm and collected, slight of frame but clearly powerful underneath. He seemed worldly, as if he could look into your eyes and see every thought you had ever possessed, as if he knew the answer to every question, the solution to all suffering. It was a comfort to have him there somehow, a similar being to the person he wished he could talk to most right now.
"Not many," Echo answered, dragging Harry back from his reverie. "Every few years we get a new arrival, Amoux's adopted son, Vilkas – the boy you met earlier, he was our latest before you. He was left on the step of an orphanage in a muggle town a few hours from here." He turned his knowing blue eyes to Harry then, as if he knew what Harry thought they were. "We don't snatch children from their beds. We adopt the abandoned, the abused and the lost."
Harry looked away quickly, he didn't want to be rude to Echo. "I wasn't any of those things," he muttered wretchedly, wishing he had never said Voldemort's stupid bloody name and brought the snatchers down on them. He grit his teeth so tightly he swore he felt them creak. "Even if Remus was a mistake, even if he didn't steal the others, Greyback still forced me into this," he snapped vehemently.
Echo considered him for a moment, then spoke softly, as if to a startled animal. "Perhaps though his intentions may have been selfish to start, we can both appreciate that he rescued you from all three of those things? Things sometimes have a way of turning out alright, even if they don't start as such," he said warmly, turning his gaze back to the stars once more.
As he lifted his head skyward again, however, Harry watched the moonlight streak across a long, jagged, angry looking scar that ran all the way down his face. He had not noticed before, it was almost hidden by his hair. Harry quickly glanced away, knowing what it felt like to have a disfigurement that everyone stared at. He patted his fringe down flat over his scar distractedly. That messy mar on Echo's otherwise handsome face, it looked magical, looked as if it must have been painful…
"The night some of His death eaters got into Hogwarts, the night Albus Dumbledore died, that's when I got this scar – the Alpha and I were asked to…back them up." His face twisted with distaste. "The Alpha was heading up the astronomy tower with the death eaters. I was guarding the stairwell with a few others and some wizards tried to get past us." He shook his head fractionally, as if recalling the whole horrid affair.
"It was frenzied. One of the death eaters beside me lunged, the wizard he was aiming at – some red-headed boy struck out and hit me instead." Echo turned to look at him then, a meaningful look in his eyes. "There was so much blood, I'm not sure what happened after that but I remember the Alpha's reaction. He tore that boy to shreds…"
It was as if a bucket of ice had plummeted in Harry's stomach. His throat clenched tight. He felt sick. Moistening his suddenly dry lips with his tongue, he breathed slowly for a moment before searching for his words. "He did," he whispered, knowing immediately what had happened. "The bloke who Greyback attacked, he was my best mate's brother, Bill Weasley – he's alive and…well he's sort of like me now. He has…symptoms but he isn't really a werewolf."
Echo's face twisted a little, as if he couldn't quite understand. "But you're mistaken, there are very few like you in the world. You're a rare gift to our kind–"
"Right," Harry interrupted him, shifting uncomfortably. "I know, because I can have your kids and no one else can. I'm the only one who is immune to the werewolf venom, so even if Greyback bites or scratches me I won't change and I can share my body with a werewolf pup without being turned as well."
He knew this now, he'd heard it enough from Greyback, he really didn't want to think about it. Even if he had been head over heels in love with Greyback he wasn't sure he'd have wanted to carry a child inside him. He wrinkled his nose at the thought. He didn't think he could do that.
Echo smiled softly, seeming to understand. "Werewolves have cubs, not pups," he mused good-naturedly. "But yes, I know what you meant and I'm relieved to know he lives. I didn't like to think of such a young life snuffed out all because Fenrir Greyback's beta got caught in the crossfire."
Harry frowned and he spoke before he could stop himself, "But I thought magic didn't affect you as much?"
Echo continued to smile. "It doesn't affect werewolves as much, no. Had I been human I would have probably died from the blood loss. Despite my stature, you'll find my body is just as durable as a wolf of the Alpha's size." He gazed at Harry thoughtfully again, seeing straight through him it seemed. "I couldn't help but notice how surprised you looked when the Alpha told you I was the beta."
Harry couldn't help it, his eyes widened and he shifted uncomfortably again, flushing slightly. He'd been caught out. "You're not…I mean… Well I was surprised to see that you were the beta but that's only because Greyback and the head of that group of rogues we ran into were both huge. I s'pose size doesn't err…matter when you're a werewolf?" He couldn't help but feel his skin flush darker at the insinuation, especially as Greyback had been huge in that sense as well…
"It's more to do with confidence and strength of character," Echo grinned, seeming to be struggling to hide his own embarrassment at Harry's unwitting innuendo. "It so happens that our omega is one of the biggest in our pack. You met him earlier, I believe?"
Harry's brow remained creased for a moment, then his eyes widened impossibly. That huge dark-skinned man he had seen earlier? How could that be?
"Marrok has a very yielding, easy-going personality," Echo added by way of explanation, evidently amused by Harry's shock at that revelation. Harry sighed in frustration, closing his eyes and feeling the soft, humming sensation that swept through his skin as the moon bathed him with its light. He was becoming more attune to nature, he thought. Was that what Greyback had meant by coming into his powers?
"Nothing here is what I thought it would be," he murmured, mostly to himself. He heard Echo smile.
"I imagine not," he replied softly, allowing a moment of silence to hang between them before he added, "But still you try to leave us the first chance you get." It wasn't a question, it was a soft yet unyielding statement.
Opening his eyes, Harry stared out across the sleepy glade that had been full of children and laughter earlier. After years of neglect, danger and now a burden that he was far from ready to face, this valley seemed like paradise. This 'pack' was just like a family, the one he had never had and it left a bitter taste in his mouth that it was being flaunted before his eyes – so close yet just out of reach. He could not stay here.
"Among other things, I could never forgive myself if others died when I'm the only one who can stop him," he said simply, tired of justifying himself. Why should he have to justify himself? "You're wolves, you must know loyalty?" he demanded. He received a small nod from Echo and continued. "Well then you know it's…it's abhorrent, the thought of leaving someone you love behind to die. My friends are all out there fighting for this cause. I won't just stay hidden up here, spread my legs and play happy families with a child snatching monster while they drop like flies for me!" His voice had risen now and his breathing had deepened with fury.
Echo remained calm as ever, although his raised brows did betray a flicker of surprise at his outburst.
"We know loyalty, Harry," Echo said after an elongated silence, staring into him with those intrusively knowing eyes. "And to us, allowing you to run off and be captured or killed would cause us the same wretched pain. We feel responsible for you as you feel responsible for them, that is why we cannot let you go."
Harry shook his head. "You've known me for five minutes! And Greyback has known me for not even a week! It's hardly the same–"
"Whether it's been five years or five days you are our family now," Echo interrupted, his warm, smooth voice silencing Harry the same way Dumbledore's used to.
Harry growled under his breath, unaware that he was mimicking one of Greyback's traits. "Why does he want me so bloody much anyway if he hates wizards?" Harry snarled venomously, glaring in the direction he could sense Greyback's presence. That was something that had grown along with his other senses, the ability to feel when Greyback was nearby. He cringed at the thought, wondering when (if) he finally got away from here, he would ever truly be able to escape him…
"I don't know that he hates wizards," Echo said. "I believe it's more that he is wary of them. When he was about the age you are now, our pack was enjoying themselves outside the walls of our home here," he gestured to the valley, an edge of bitter, dejected anger creeping into his normally composed voice. "We had the misfortune to come across 'The Hunt' – a group of Ministry officials that sought out werewolf packs and cut them back like rogue weeds."
Harry was stunned into silence, unable to look away from that suddenly emotive face so torn with bone-deep anger and sadness. It was the kind of expression he had seen on Neville's face whenever he spoke of Bellatrix Lestrange's torture of his parents. And suddenly he knew why these people, this family hid themselves away in the mountain, in magic and peace.
Some wizards are just as evil as some werewolves, he thought, as Echo continued.
"There used to be lots of breeders like you, Harry," he said, "including the Alpha's mother. But The Hunt were good at what they did and ours was but one of the many packs desecrated by their cruelty and fear."
Harry could believe that, he'd seen first hand how fear turned even the best of men into monsters. Voldemort himself had started all of this because he was afraid of death and weakness…
"Our pack used to be much larger than this," Echo continued. "The Hunt massacred them all and the Alpha's parents, his brothers and sister all died. I suppose that's why he's as…mercurial as he is."
Harry stared at him. The foul-tempered, boisterous, spiteful brute he'd seen earlier, had he truly been so…hurt? It would explain a lot about his ways, his hatred of wizards and the fact that his longing for a family seemed to match Harry's with frightening fervour. Harry swallowed. He did not like the way his thoughts were drifting, nor the way his chest clenched tight at the thought of what a horrible ordeal it must have been, to watch his entire family be butchered before his very eyes.
"But he did bite children!" Harry insisted, his voice not as committed as he would've liked it to be.
Echo scoffed at that. "The subs in our pack can't have their own young so we find orphans, runaways, abused children or even babies left on doorsteps and bring them home with us, bring them–"
"Bring them into a world they may not want to be a part of," Harry murmured. "You make them werewolves, they don't get a choice."
"They get a loving home they may not get elsewhere," Echo said simply. "That is our 'child-snatching' and perhaps it seems wrong to others, but the children are happy here, this is a good life we give them, Harry, you saw that for yourself today. Each one would rather have this life, the life of a werewolf than go back to living as a human in neglect." He paused, considering Harry carefully yet again. "Please, if you hold any other misconceptions or fears about our life here then allow me to lay them to rest for you – every newcomer has questions when they first come here."
Harry glanced away determinedly, gazing back into the darkness without really looking at anything. He felt so lost, was that because of his incomplete bond with Greyback or was that merely exacerbating the feelings he already had? He wanted to go home, except he had no home to return to. He wanted to return to Ron and Hermione and yet this family here wanted desperately to keep him here – to protect him.
No one's soul purpose had ever been to protect him, to keep him happy and safe, there had always been ulterior motives, or something more important – even with Dumbledore. He had to get away from here before his treacherous longing and instincts got too out of hand. Before he lost sight of the big picture and himself.
"You must know Greyback better than anyone," Harry murmured, his improved eyesight finding imaginary shapes in the darkness. Echo said nothing, but Harry was sure he felt him nod. "I suppose you want me to stay with him?" Harry asked.
"I want Fenrir and the rest of the pack to be safe and happy," Echo replied, saying Greyback's name for the first time in Harry's hearing. Harry got the impression he didn't say it very often.
"But what makes Greyback happy will probably not make me to be happy," Harry muttered into the night.
"Never say never," Echo said simply.
A harsh breeze rushed through the glade and Harry shuddered, thinking longingly of the den without realising. It was warm in there, dimly lit and safe. His instincts liked that, the neglected child in him longed for it. Slowly, Harry got to his feet, realising that tonight's escape would have to be postponed until a better opportunity presented itself.
Perhaps Ron and Hermione would figure out a way to get to him, but he couldn't just sit tight and wait for them. Who knew what the empathy he felt growing for Greyback could morph into if he remained trapped here for too long. He was afraid of the feelings brewing inside, like a flickering flame waiting to burst into an inferno, he would have no hope of conquering once it broke out.
~To Be Continued...