.: Chapter Eight :.
Blood's Song
Harry awoke groggily the next morning surrounded in comforting warmth and clinging to oblivious slumber, as he never had before. For a moment he didn't know where he was, but it was cosy and safe. He had never felt so safe before. That thought caused a frown to crease his forehead and his lashes fluttered on his cheeks, his mind slowly awakening as well as his body. He was lying on his side on a bed of plush furs, a blanket draped over him and early morning light glowed subtly in the columns decorating the room. But as he turned to lie flat on his back, his heart stopped. Fenrir Greyback was lying beside him, a scant inch away, fast asleep with his body stretched out, dwarfing Harry's body easily.
Swallowing nervously, Harry slid up a fraction. He spied Ghost asleep on the furs by the lifeless fire and looked back to Greyback uncertainly, still frowning. There was something odd about the werewolf this morning. It wasn't just how peaceful his face looked in slumber, or even the fact that the bastard was completely naked alongside him and radiating intense heat even in sleep. Harry's cheeks did flush at the sight, however. But no, it was something else that was odd, something different.
Suddenly, his eyes widened with realisation. Greyback's skin was still tanned as ever but there was a clean, fresh glow to it and though he still smelled musky and hot, the scent tickling Harry's nostrils was unmistakeably tinted with the oils he himself had used in the bath yesterday. But he distinctly remembered Greyback hadn't used them when he was in the bath with him. His flush darkened at the memory of what had distracted the git.
The length of that dark, silvery hair had been tackled and currently lay swept back, also clean and trimmed if he wasn't mistaken. Just as his rough, untamed short beard had been tamed. Light, short and expertly cut stubble now framed the wolf's face, making him look… Harry swallowed again, his throat tight. The man was all clean, trimmed and tight muscled, the epitome of masculinity and it made Harry's skin prickle with unwelcome appreciation. He'd never had this feeling about girls before. Did this make him gay?
Had this only just happened since he'd 'rutted' with Greyback? Or had what had happened with Greyback just opened his eyes to feelings he'd been having for a while? He gazed at the way that short stubble trailed up over the man's top lip. It had been scratchy and rough before and he cursed himself as he recalled he hadn't entirely hated the sensation.
Without thinking, he reached forwards, trailing the pad of his thumb over the corner of the man's mouth, feeling the shape of his jaw, his stubble smooth and pleasantly tickly against his skin. He followed the curve of his jaw all the way around, then back again to touch just under that mouth that had ravaged him so thoroughly more than once. He neatened himself up for me, Harry could not help but realise. Though before the werewolf had been nothing like the creature Harry had seen on the astronomy tower the night Dumbledore had died, now he was…
"Enjoying the view?"
Harry jumped, coming back to reality to see two piercing blue eyes staring up at him. He gasped and dragged his hand back, only to have his wrist caught mid-flight in of Greyback's large hands. He'd been caught and Harry's skin flared red with mortification. "I… You…" His tongue darted out to dampen his suddenly dry lips as he stumbled over his words. "You didn't look like this that night on the tower," he eventually said. He wanted to tear his eyes away from that penetrating gaze but was afraid of the sight that lay further north.
Greyback smirked, rolling onto his side and hauling Harry closer by his captured wrist, until he was pulled tight against Greyback's body. The sheet was the only thing between them, still draped over Harry's body. Harry gasped and froze, not wanting to squirm and brush up against Greyback's morning hardness.
"You like that I neatened myself up for you, don't you, pet?" he growled softly, tugging Harry in closer and inhaling at his throat deeply. "I can smell how much you like it."
Harry just lay there, stunned momentarily by the thrill of arousal that rippled through his body. His mouth hung open with a soundless groan and his head hung limp on his shoulder. With every breath he inhaled Greyback's masculine, musky scent and his blush returned as he felt his body react unbidden to the brute's proximity. How was it that the arsehole knew how to play his body so flawlessly?
"Yesterday," Greyback growled huskily against his throat, breaking the silence that had hung thick in the air for a good few minutes. "Yesterday, with that runt–"
"With Ghost," Harry interrupted, trying to sound irritated but finding his voice was far too breathy. He could feel Greyback's soft bristles tickling his adam's apple as the beast mouthed his throat between breaths.
"I saw…I realised that this mask of bravery you put on for the world isn't just some act. It's real but it's still something you hide behind. You've always been hiding, but when you're beneath me like this, you can't hide and that's why you're so afraid of staying here. You're terrified of realising how much you want me, how much you want this life with me." He punctuated his words with a feral sound of pleasure against Harry's jaw, leaning up so that his face was scant centimetres from Harry's, his breath dusting those slightly parted lips.
"You can't get enough of me, admit it," Greyback all-but purred, leaning up to wordlessly push Harry onto his back so that he was now hovering above him. He growled in appreciation at the sight of Harry, the sheet having fallen to lie just above Harry's pubic bone. He ran the large flat of his palm down the length of Harry's taut, slender torso, all the way down and then up again, then down, then up, caressing every contour of flesh.
"Roll onto your side," Greyback urged him huskily, his long fingers still caressing Harry's flanks. Harry exhaled heavily, his chest heaving under Greyback's hot palm as it urged him onto his side.
***CENSORED. FOR FULL SCENE PLEASE FOLLOW ONE OF THE LINKS ON MY PROFILE***
The bastard came back up to Harry's level with a smirk, nuzzling into the marked side of Harry's throat and inhaling deeply with a satisfied growl.
"Hmmm, you smell so good," the werewolf breathed. "I like you covered in me."
Harry's breath hitched. He shifted awkwardly, reaching for the sheet and pulling it over him. Greyback sat back with a derisive smirk. "Ah, your shyness has woken up at last has it? Well, it missed one hell of a party," Greyback mused, getting to his feet. He stretched as he stood, allowing Harry an uninterrupted view of that expanse of muscle and the power that rippled through every inch of it. He swallowed, horrified to find himself oddly attracted to this man, especially now with his beard trimmed, his hair tamed. He flushed darkly and seized the shirt and trousers he swore he had been wearing when he fell asleep, quickly redressing under the sheet.
"And how did you enjoy your first night as the Alpha Numero's favourite?" Greyback asked the adolescent wolf that was still lying on the furs by the cold fire, now awake and watching them carefully.
Harry jumped out of bed, his limbs still feeling a tad like jelly as he moved over to where Ghost lay. "Morning," he beamed at the wolf, petting him carefully, delighted when his affection was answered by a small wag of a tail.
"I decided to assign him to guarding you instead of guarding the tunnels with the others," Greyback murmured, eyeing their exchange thoughtfully. "When he's fed up a bit he'll be strong enough." Greyback leant down then, his large hand sweeping down over Ghost's head gently and brushing over Harry's mid-stroke. His hand stopped.
Harry jerked slightly, that seemingly insignificant touch was somehow more intimate than anything that had just happened on the bed of furs behind him. He inhaled sharply and tugged his hand away, but could not deny the static that had pulsed through him at the touch, or the way that their eyes had locked at the same time.
"If you're taking responsibility for him you can't stay shut up in here for the rest of your life," Greyback said brusquely, as if trying to cover up the moment they had just shared. He felt awkward too, Harry realised. He stood too, thinking distantly that he didn't like how much taller Greyback was than him; it gave him an even greater advantage that Harry didn't care for.
"Sorry," Harry muttered sarcastically, "it wasn't until yesterday that I realised my prison extended beyond this den. Will you draw a line in the ground outside to show far I can go?" His tone was biting, a tool to incite an argument that would eradicate the remaining post-orgasm, post-intimate haze that still clung to his mind. It made him feel uncomfortable to think of how easily he had surrendered to this man this morning. It frightened him.
I need to get away from here, he thought. Now.
"If Azkaban was as nice as this 'prison' you're in, I wouldn't have been in such a hurry to leave," Greyback snarled venomously. "I saw things in there that made even my skin crawl. Trust me, boy, if you'd so much of glimpsed the inside of a real prison you'd see you have nothing to complain about."
Harry scowled. "Don't call me boy."
"You're determined to be miserable even though I'm throwing everything you have ever wanted at your bloody feet! I've even given you the 'out' of blaming me to save your wretched conscience." Greyback glowered at him and Harry could not help but feel the urge to shrink back a fraction and bare his throat. He restrained the instinct. Ghost, however, did shrink back to lie perfectly flat on the ground, as if desperate to not draw attention to himself. His bright eyes looked up at Harry urgently, as if urging him to do the same thing.
"You really think tidying yourself up physically for me is enough to want to make me stay?" Harry demanded hotly, ignoring the imploring call of his instincts to back down. "There are more important things than you and me right now in this world–"
"Nothing is more important than the pack or your mate, that is the absolute law of a werewolf – and you are one," Greyback added when Harry opened his mouth to deny it. "You're a gift to our species, to me and I've no intention of letting you run off to your death."
Harry stared at him for a few moments in shock, a flush touching his face and then scoffed aloud, glancing away uncomfortably. "From anyone else in any other context that could have been considered quite sentimental Fenrir Greyback," he snorted.
Greyback's glower intensified and he stepped forwards, spanning the gap between them. The sudden movement made Harry glance up at him quickly. There was an odd glimmer in those azure eyes. Then abruptly, that mouth framed by neatly trimmed stubble quirked into an animalistic smirk. "If those words had come from anyone other than Harry Potter I'd have ripped their throat out," he murmured, but the words were spoken with such husky desire, they could have easily been a sexual promise.
Harry inhaled sharply, taking a step back from him. He had to get away. He could not allow himself to be seduced again. "I…I'm going for a walk," he muttered, marching quickly over to the door.
"Wait," Greyback said sharply, halting Harry just as his hand touched the door to the den. Greyback said nothing else and so Harry steeled himself, turning to face him. "Take this," the werewolf muttered, draping the familiar fur cloak around Harry's shoulders. "Your dainty little body can't endure the cold like mine can, your immune system will grow along with the rest of your wolf abilities."
Harry stared at him, pulling the cloak tight around his shoulders. Even if the bastard was only considering his health and happiness to ensure the fitness of his breeding entity, Harry couldn't help but feel discomfited by Greyback's concern. "Right, err… Come on Ghost," he called, pushing the door open and hurrying out into the fresh morning air, Ghost close behind him. He could feel Greyback's eyes on him all the way.
Everyone was busy with their morning tasks, the subs seeing to their young at the circle, helping them to eat breakfast. Harry didn't pause to see what they were eating, or to consider that he was quite hungry himself. He'd been planning this since last night and he had to go through with it before someone stopped him. Or more pressingly, before his slowly growing, unreasonable connection to Greyback caused him to reconsider his plan. Part of him (the wolf part) wanted to stay and indulge in this private paradise. He couldn't allow it to happen, he would lose himself if he did.
Swallowing hard, he moved passed those gathered in the circle for breakfast and put his senses to the test for the first time. He followed his nose along the scent trail of the one he was looking for. Perhaps his senses were growing or perhaps the fact that the man was separate from the others made it easier for Harry to track him, but he found Marrok by the great gate, Larentia at his side.
Marrok (despite his muscles and his size) was the omega; Fenrir had said it himself hadn't he? He was the weakest link, his last way out…
"Marrok?!" He called, his voice filled with a confidence that did not touch his nervous, quivering insides. The dark-skinned Marrok turned, Larentia mimicking his movement as Harry came to stand before them. Harry drew in a sharp breath, before seizing his last chance with both hands. "Please, take me out on the hunt with you?" he asked, avoiding Larentia's gaze and focusing solely on Marrok's dark eyes. His only chance was with this man, not the unruly bitch from the other day that seemed to have been chastened by Greyback's scolding.
Harry saw nervousness, uncertainty in those dark eyes however and inhaled again, drawing inspiration and courage from the air around him. He followed his instincts, which were whispering to him exactly what he had to do to get what he wanted. With a small smile, Harry cocked his head slightly. Feeling like a complete idiot, he moved forwards, radiating a feigned shyness. It worked. He saw Marrok flush a little.
"I'm not sure the alpha would appreciate his mate being taken beyond the gate," Marrok said uncertainly. "It's nearing the end of mating season for most species and that makes some creatures testy."
Harry tilted his head to the other side then, feeling nature aid him by sending a soft breeze over his shoulder, whisking his scent into Marrok's nostrils. "Grey– Fenrir thinks being more involved with the pack will help me…adjust a little quicker," he said, still smiling. "I think it'd make him happy to see me adjusting and to know that you helped me."
At that point he risked a glance at Larentia, who was watching the exchange uncertainly. At last she fixed him with a smile that made Harry want to recoil. He wasn't sure he could trust her entirely.
"Marrok, the alpha wants his mate to feel like one of us. Let him come and see the forest as we do, what can it hurt?" she murmured with a voice like smooth velvet. Harry shivered but covered it up by broadening his smile.
"I know it will mean a lot to him," Harry said, feeling edgy. How long would it be before Greyback came looking for him? He was awfully…protective; he had to get as much space between them as possible. "Errr, shall we get going then? Maybe we can be back before lunch?"
At this, Marrok smiled. "Spoken like a true werewolf, thinking of his stomach," the wolf laughed, turning to open the gate. "Stay close though, the alpha will have my hide if you get hurt on my watch."
The caves were just as awe-inspiring and mysterious as before, filled with their own mystical beauty, but it was the sunlight that greeted his eyes that stunned him. The breeze brought with it a whisk of hope, breathed adrenaline into his veins. His heart began hammering and he chewed the inside of his mouth to try and remain calm. Larentia and Marrok could not sense anything was off.
"Stay close," Marrok said as the gateway into the cave sealed itself behind them and they began to walk into the forest. "Like I said, some species get tetchy around this time. They're either breeding or caring for young ones. Easily pissed off. I may be the omega, Alpha Numero but you're not yet up to your full strength." Marrok gave Harry a nervous yet reassuring smile, Larentia, however was considering them both with a peculiar look in her eyes.
"There's a lot to be done and I work best alone," she murmured and Harry had the distinct impression that she wanted as little to do with him as possible. He'd thought that when she had entered Greyback's den the either day, setting his new clothes on the shelves along with Greyback's without saying a word to him.
Marrok seemed to have the same impression. He glanced at Harry before meeting Larentia's gaze once more. "The alpha numero and I will take to the river for some fishing," he said and with a small nod, Larentia vanished into the forest. There was a long, drawn out silence where nothing was heard except the birds singing gleefully in the trees. Then, at last, Marrok turned to face Harry once more, his eyes still not quite meeting Harry's (out of respect).
"The river?" he suggested brightly.
Marrok may have been the omega but he certainly wasn't without skill or strength. Harry watched in awe as the man perched on all fours on the riverbank and snatched a fat, frantically writhing fish from the water's depths with his bare hands. Marrok smiled at him shyly, embarrassed by Harry's admiration.
"It's nothing, really Numero, you will learn too with time."
Harry managed an uneasy smile as Marrok went back to his task, his intense dark eyes focussed on the shadows moving so subtly in the deep water that only wolf eyes could see. Harry watched him carefully. There was no way he could outrun him and even if he wished to fight him, he could not hope to win. It would have to be exactly the right time…
"Errr, Marrok?" Harry asked after the sun had risen higher in the sky and Marrok had been still and patient in his wait for the next fish for some time.
"Mmm?" the large wolf responded without so much as blinking, still keeping his eyes on the water. Harry envied his patience, his concentration. He could have learned a lot from Marrok and perhaps Amoux and Echo as well if he had stayed…
"I err…I need the loo, do you mind if I just…?" Harry gestured to the thick glade of trees just behind him. He was on the opposite side of the river to Marrok, not only so he could better observe him and his task but also to keep his shadow and fidgeting movements away from the sensitive fishing area. It was all about being still and patient, Marrok had told him and Harry had sheepishly moved to the other side then, admitting he didn't have either requirement.
"Yeah, not too far in though," Marrok muttered distractedly, his clawed hand hovering silently over the water now. He still did not look up and Harry took his chance.
"No, not too far," he agreed, getting to his feet. Without betraying his dishonesty, Harry swiftly but silently vanished into the cover of trees, Ghost hot on his tail and mimicking his soft-footedness. His wolf inheritance was slowly blooming. He could feel it now, allowing him to move in perfect silence and haste through the trees without so much as a backward glance at Marrok. Poor Marrok, he hoped Greyback wouldn't punish him for letting him escape – that was his last thought before he broke into a soundless run.
The sun peeped in and out of the trees as he bolted forwards, weaving in and out of them with speed and ease. He was going to do it this time he knew it! Just for good measure through, he threw himself into a branch of the river before him and snatched up a handful of flowers growing there on the bank. It was the very same species of flower he had used to cover his scent that full moon night and he rubbed it hastily over himself to hide his smell for when Greyback did come looking. Harry knew he would. The git could sense his moods, but could not track him unless he could follow his scent.
Hopping out of the water, Harry flew into a sprint again, following his senses and the cool spring breeze through the forest. He didn't know what he was going to do next; this was as far as his plan took him, now he was winging it. But I will get away, he thought resolutely, sure of it this time.
Ghost looked in his element beside him, his tongue hanging out his mouth as he ran, panting with eyes bright and the wind rushing through his fur. Harry beamed at him. "Good boy, come on, I'll race you!"
The trees were beginning to thin but Harry could tell by the formation of the breeze that they were still a fair way from the forest's edge. He and Ghost slowed, breathing hard but escape was still in Harry's sights. There was no full moon this time to thwart his attempts at escape. Once he was out of the forest he would follow his nose to the nearest village, it was his only chance without a wand.
Suddenly, movement from his right stilled him in his steps. Ghost's muscles tightened, his frame arching into a wary stance, as if readying to either pounce or flee. Harry mimicked his posture unconsciously, only just restraining the urge to reach for his absent wand. He grit his teeth. He hated not having his wand, he felt naked without it. His improving sense of smell, however could not identify the creature nearby. Did that mean it was neither human nor wolf?
"Easy, Ghost," Harry said, holding an arm out to silence him. The wolf may have enjoyed that trot with him just then but he still wasn't at his full strength. Just then, a shape emerged from the trees just before him. It was a peculiar creature that took a moment to register in his mind. "A griffin," he murmured with awe and wariness both, studying the beast. It was an infant; there was no doubt of that. It was little bigger than a horse's foal, infancy betrayed by flecks of muddy brown in its glorious golden coat. The feathers at its torso were fluffy and useless, like that of a baby bird and its wings flapped feebly, looking ridiculously big for its body. Harry had seen images and statues of griffins, but never a real one – not this close anyway.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he glanced to Ghost who was still tense and watching the baby griffin uncertainly as it ambled towards them, crooning curiously. It trotted unstably to Harry's side, seeming to be sizing him up. Probably never seen a human before, Harry reasoned, or wolf, whatever he was now. "I don't have any food for you," he said to the griffin, taking a step back from it slowly. He didn't want to frighten it, griffins were notoriously twitchy and even this little one could do some damage with those already blooming talons.
The griffin tried to span the gap between them again. Harry frowned when the creature nudged his hand with interest. I held one of the fish earlier, Harry realised, remembering his first failed attempt at catching one – before he had moved himself to the opposite side of the bank to let Marrok get to work. "I don't have any fish for you," he said, taking a few steps back this time and turning his head a fraction so that he could see Ghost out of the corner of his eye. "Let's go before mum and dad turn up," he muttered.
Turning, he began to brisk-walk away from the beast, feeling Ghost hugging his side as he followed suit. A sharp yelp of pain halted him in his steps. Whirling around, he saw the Griffin's already razor sharp beak locked tightly around Ghost's tail. "Get off him!" he snarled, surging forwards and swatting the griffin's beak. He did not let go and the wolf's cries intensified into an all out scream as blood began to weep from where that beak was clamped around his tail. "Get off!" Harry roared with wolfish fury, seizing a fallen branch from the ground and bringing it down with violent desperation on the griffin's head.
The beast yipped with shock, releasing Ghost and staggering back. Harry moved in front of Ghost, who was now cowering behind him, his wounded tail tucked between his legs. The griffin shook his head as if to brush off the confusion, his feeble wings flapping as a horrid squawking filled the forest. "Stay back!" Harry snapped, holding the branch out before him in warning. He didn't care if it was a baby, it was still a dangerous creature and he wouldn't allow it to hurt Ghost. As far as he was concerned, this little runt that nobody seemed concerned about before he'd arrived would never be harmed again.
Suddenly, the sound of wings and a resounding slam of something heavy hitting the ground made his blood run cold. He turned on his heel and his heart jerked in fear. Mum and Dad had heard their baby's cries. The father was extensively larger. Golden feathers rippled over the muscles beneath as he flew at Harry with an almighty screech. The talons of his front legs shot out, sliced spitefully through the flesh of Harry's torso. Harry screamed, stumbling backwards and felt Ghost at his side. A warning snarl rose from his furred companion that was swiftly drowned out by another scream of fury from behind them.
The female was behind him and Harry rolled out of the way just in time, hearing that serrated beak snap shut on thin air where he had been moments before. He was trapped. Ghost roared, the sound nowhere near as ferocious as the griffins' screams but tearing through the air with equal force as he leapt straight for the throat of the father as he bore down on Harry again. "No!" Harry cried as the wolf was batted aside. He threw his legs up, kicking the male griffin hard in its gizzard. It choked, spluttered and withdrew, giving Harry chance to scramble to his feet, putting himself between the raging female and the place where Ghost was staggering to his feet.
Harry glanced around in panic, where was that stick he'd had a moment ago? Where was his bloody wand when he needed it?! Why hadn't Dumbledore ever taught him to harness wandless magic like him? Now would be a good time to come into those werewolf powers, he thought bitterly, watching the female approach, her wings raised threateningly, her talons swiping through the air at him.
Harry shot back to avoid the grasping claws, stumbling over himself in his haste. His hand was sliced open on a jagged rock on the ground. Without pause, he seized it. Ghost was behind him, snapping and snarling, trying to reverse their positions and put himself between Harry and the griffins.
They were all three surrounding him now and Harry had the briefest moment to decide which to fend off with the sharp rock before they pounced.
A howl filled with raw aggression tore through the air as the shadows of the attacking beasts fell over Harry. The next thing he knew, the female had been torn off him and sent rolling to the side, straight into the male. Before he could gather his wits he saw a flash of silver swipe at the infant where it had closed in on him and it too stumbled back. Harry was frozen in place in the dirt. His sliced chest was protesting with every rapid breath he took and his palm was stinging as he watched the familiar silver wolf standing before him, every muscle taut and prepared for battle.
The sunlight danced across his fur where he stood for the longest moment before the feathered beasts launched themselves at him again – all at once. Ghost was low on his belly, submitting to the alpha without even a glance required. Harry felt the urge to mimic the motion, to prostrate himself on the ground until his alpha was ready to deal with him, but fear, adrenaline and his pounding heart held him in place.
Everything was fast movement, snarling, screaming, claws and fangs with blood painting the air. Harry watched as the female was thrown through the air, Greyback's fangs snapping at her and the male's talons slicing into Greyback's side. He was strong but so were they and they didn't have him, Harry as a distraction. With Greyback's snarl of pain tearing through the air, the female circled, shooting towards Harry. Fenrir snapped at her, backing her away from Harry and Ghost. The male dived, taking advantage of Greyback's distraction and slamming hard into his bleeding side.
Blood stained that glossy silver coat as Greyback roared, biting hard into the female's wing until she screeched, writhing and fighting against his hold, which released as the male advanced on Harry again. Harry was a clear weakness and the beasts were using that to their advantage. Harry seized the branch he'd dropped earlier and brought it down hard on the male's beak. Ghost lunged for that throat, his fangs drawing thick rivulets of blood.
Greyback swiped at the male, his massive paw sending the creature sprawling away from Harry but as he did, the female struck back in vengeance. Harry watched in horrified slow motion. The female's screeching rang like a warning siren in his ears as he watched her talons slice sharply through Greyback's neck. "No!" Harry screamed, bolting forwards. The female reared as Greyback howled in agony, her bloody claws cutting through his shirt and biting into his forearm beneath.
Hissing with pain, Harry glanced frantically around, his eyes finding the infant that had started this mess. It was rearing back from Ghost, who was snarling snapping at his feet. Harry launched the branch at it, startling the beast and sending it bolting into the trees with a cry. Ghost barely jumped out of the way in time to avoid being trampled by the parents as they shot after it. Keeping his eyes focussed cautiously on the trees where their foes had vanished, he ambled over to where Harry had dropped to his knees Greyback's side.
Greyback was a wolf still, lying on his side and giving great choking breaths that made blood weep from his side and throat. Harry stared from one wound to another, before pressing his hand over the wound on the wolf's throat, trying to slow the bleeding. As he did so, the glossy silver fur vanished, leaving a sweating, spluttering Greyback lying naked in its place.
Harry kept the pressure on his throat, staring down at him, ignoring the biting pain in his own chest and arm. Ghost was standing beside him, watching them both carefully. Harry grimaced. "Tell me what to do," he demanded breathlessly, "tell me how to help you!"
"Stop…running…away!" Greyback snarled, choking on his own words. Blood oozed sickeningly from under Harry's fingers. He pressed harder.
"I can't. That's why you have to let me go–"
"C-Can't!" Greyback snarled, his eyes full of fire even as Harry felt the power, the sheer strength in his body flowing freely out of the wound under his hand. "S-swore on your…your bloody life that I wouldn't let you go!" Every word was a painful gasp and yet Harry could not help but feel surprise at that revelation. This combined with the impenetrable shield their connection provided told him exactly why Voldemort didn't fear his escape. Voldemort would know the moment Harry was out of range of Greyback, because he would be able to sense him again, to gain access to his mind without Greyback's interference. Greyback would not be able to let him go even if he wanted to. That thought both horrified and confused him, but now was not the time for it.
With a wince, Harry pulled his shirt off over his head and pressed the rolled up fabric to Greyback's throat. "Hold it there," he instructed the alpha, removing his hand only when Greyback replaced it with his own, keeping the pressure there. He could see those blue eyes glazing over. He was losing too much blood, even for a werewolf – a throat wound was lethal to any species.
The forest around them was quiet, deathly quiet in the wake of their battle and in that silence Harry heard that treacherous, whispering voice inside him rise up. Greyback was seriously wounded; he could barely hold the cloth to his bleeding neck. If there was any opportunity where he was certain to get away successfully, it was now.
The path to freedom was clear and yet he could not take it. I can't leave him here, he thought, gritting his teeth so hard that he felt his jaw ache. "Ghost," Harry said stiffly, shoving the temptation to flee back down his throat where a lump had formed. "Ghost, call Marrok, he must be nearby still. Call him," he ordered. The wolf tipped his head to the side with puppyish thoughtfulness, before throwing his head back with a desperate mournful howl. There was no way Marrok could ignore that sound.
"Tell me what to do," Harry gasped as Ghost howled, his hands hovering uselessly over Greyback's body. When the alpha said nothing, panic seized him. "For fuck sake Fenrir!" he snarled, finally forcing those glazed eyes to open and focus on him. He watched the fingers clenched around the cloth tighten, before the other hand rose shakily, coming to land clumsily on Harry's shoulder.
"Worried about me, eh?" Greyback murmured, blood leaking from his lips. Harry's eyes widened.
"I never wanted you to get hurt you bastard!" He declared. "Tell me how to save you!" The hand on his shoulder slid down gesturing near his mouth, beckoning Harry closer. Harry leant down, his heart hammering in his chest. He knew how much blood a human man could lose before he died, but what about werewolves?
"Y-Your mouth…!" Greyback gasped, his words dusting Harry's cheeks and instantly, Harry knew what he meant.
"But I – I'm a–"
"A werewolf, and…if nothing else…will convince you maybe…this will…!" Greyback coughed, choked on his own words and blood wept from his lips as he pulled the crimson-stained cloth from his torn throat. "Only the…alpha's mate can…tend his wounds…"
Harry swallowed hard, a twinge of revulsion twisting his gut. But Greyback's skin was going paler than he'd ever seen it and blood was staining the grass beneath them, forming a foreboding crimson pool. He had done more repulsive things and moreover, he couldn't allow anyone to die because of him.
I can't allow my mate to die, something whispered deep in the recesses of his mind, submerged by panic and fear. Swallowing again, he shifted his weight more evenly on his folded legs and supported himself with one arm on Greyback's shoulder. With a final glance up into those fading azure eyes he dipped his head towards his neck. Pinching the flesh together across the first deep laceration with his other hand he swiped his tongue across the crevice. His stomach roiled, but he did not dare allow himself to pause and think on it.
Again, he lapped at that flesh that tasted of sweat and blood with only a slight tang of the man he had tasted in passion that morning. He winced and again he licked the wound until he felt the skin smooth under his tongue. Glancing down with shock, he saw that the first of the four deep gouges had healed under his tongue, it still looked red raw and angry, but it was healed.
Hurry! He snapped, urging himself not to dwell on the spectacular madness of what had just happened. Somewhere at the back of his mind he realised that Ghost had stopped howling, yet he continued to seal the next wound shut, then the next, by the time he came to the last, however his mouth felt dry. He swallowed, cringing at the coppery taste of blood on his tongue and tried to bring moisture back into his mouth. Just a bit more, he told himself, bringing his tongue along the final, nastiest gash. He drew back when he felt it close only to see Greyback watching him with an emotion he couldn't quite comprehend.
Awkward and still filled with dread and uncertainty, Harry glanced to the deep wound across Greyback's belly, but the wolf struggled into a half sitting position.
"You've done enough for now, pet, far more than I thought a new wolf would be capable of." A wince crossed his haggard features and his hand flew to his belly but as Harry moved to press his discarded shirt to the wound there, his own wounds made themselves known.
"We need to get back to the den," Greyback growled, his usual husky gruffness almost completely hiding the pain in his voice, but not the concern. "I need to patch you up–"
"Me?" Harry demanded in disbelief. "What about you?" Any answer Greyback had to give however was lost as Marrok and Larentia bolted into sight. They stopped short at the sight of them, the carnage and the smell of blood so thick on the air.
"Alpha?" Larentia gasped as Marrok stood there dumbly, not believing his eyes.
"Shit," Marrok whispered with horror. They both staggered forward.
Harry inhaled, feeling a frisson of discomfort shoot through him at their proximity to his wounded mate, but he gritted his teeth against the sensation. There was no way he could carry Greyback to the den himself. Feeling the alpha in him swell with his mate injured, Harry forced his limbs to steady themselves and got to his feet. "He's wounded. I can't carry him on my own, help me," he ordered them, leaving no room for argument and with a voice he was sure wasn't his own. It was far too commanding, too forceful. Too wolfish.
Without preamble, the two obeyed (although Larentia with an uncertain, reproachful glance his way) and they both seized Greyback under one arm, hauling him to his feet, drawing a sharp groan of pain from him.
"Careful!" Harry barked, smelling and seeing blood ooze worryingly from the wound at Greyback's abdomen. He was alarmed at the concern he felt forming an impassable lump in his throat, but brushed it aside. This was his fault, he couldn't allow Greyback to die because of him, no matter what he was, he just couldn't. The idea was simply unthinkable.
There was chaos when they eventually got back to the valley. It erupted the second everyone clapped eyes on their almighty alpha, suspended bloody and weak from his pack-mates' shoulders with Harry leading them. Harry kept his chin up and his eyes hard, unwilling to allow anyone to take advantage of the werewolf's weakness. It was simply abhorrent to him, almost as unnerving as the thought of any of them getting closer than they had to. His instincts again, he supposed, but pushed that to the back of his mind for now. Right now he had to fix this mess he'd made of the lives of these people.
"Perhaps we should cover him up?" Harry murmured, determinedly not looking at the naked, barely conscious alpha that Larentia and Marrok were supporting. He reached up instinctively for the clasp holding the fur cloak around his shoulders. Larentia glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, snorting derisively as if he were the world's greatest fool.
"We werewolves don't hold the same taboo about nudity as you little humans," she chuckled without humour. The tone made Harry feel small and useless, insignificant in a way that he had sworn he would never allow himself to be again. He grit his teeth, drawing himself up as high as his body allowed.
"I'm a werewolf too now, or have you forgotten? I'm your alpha just as much as Greyback is," he said, glaring pointedly at her, but with a tone that all those gathering around them could not fail to hear. Larentia looked taken aback, even a little insulted but the way she glanced at Echo, who had appeared at Harry's side told him she dared not be the next fool to disregard all sense of decorum and tradition. The moment she opened her mouth to speak, Harry cut her off, not allowing her the courtesy of trying to cover up her mistake.
"Take him to our den and lay him on the bed then leave him, he is mine – my responsibility," he added the last part hastily, not liking the way his instincts had chosen to word that particular phrase. His cheeks flushed slightly but he did not allow his demeanour to fall. He couldn't allow it now, not when he had already done so much damage here.
There was a moment where no one moved or even seemed to breathe. Then at last, the first slight movement of compliance from Marrok sparked Larentia into action despite her shock and they both began hauling Greyback's semi-conscious form towards the den. With an inward sigh of relief Harry turned to Amoux, who he thought might be the most eager to help. He had to play his part carefully here, without Greyback at his best this could end badly for all with people like Ulric watching on calculatingly.
"Amoux, can you bring me a bowl of warm water and some cleaning cloths?" he asked. She nodded and darted off immediately, leaving him feeling quite alone and overwhelmed in the large crowd that had gathered around him. He stared around at the unfamiliar faces nervously, not knowing what any of them were capable of or even thinking. Were they supporters of what his presence here meant, like Amoux and Echo? Or did they side with usurpers like Ulric? How could he consider this a home? It was no safer nor comfortable than the Dursleys when all was said and done. How many of them would defend him if some were to attack? At least as Voldemort's captive I knew where I stood, he thought nervously, wondering how on earth he was going to survive this.
A sharp sting of pain in his jugular was what awoke Greyback first, then another stabbing agony in his gut like the twist of a knife. Then throbbing, aching pain bloomed throughout his every limb, making him feel heavy and battered, bruised as he had never felt before. He grunted, forcing his eyes to open. The bleary world was instantly recognisable, but only because of all the years he had lived here. He was in his own bed and the soft light dictated it was evening or very early morning. He tried to force his body to rise but could not, not only because of the pain but also the comparatively small hands that pressed firmly on his chest.
"Stay still," a surprisingly concerned voice demanded. The hands drifted away, only to return armed with a damp warm cloth which they used to dab away the grime and blood from his throat. He winced. His little pet was a werewolf alright but the healing abilities in his saliva were far from matured. Though the bleeding had stopped, he still felt every ounce of pain as he would have from an open wound, it was a disconcerting sensation.
With his gaze focussing clearly, he looked down to see his mate kneeling at his side, his brow furrowed as he focussed on cleaning his body, caring for his wounds the way his instincts would be demanding of him right now. Fenrir smirked slightly. He knew the concern, the dire need the boy would be feeling to hide him away, to protect him and care for him solely on his own, but he did not say a word.
Keeping quiet for some time, he watched those slender limbs work, watched that face twitch with concern, alarm and determination all at once with every pass of that damp cloth. It was soothing to feel him there, to watch him, comforting in a way that nothing had been since he was a cub. His thoughts began to drift back to the life he had lead before his family and pack had been desecrated and quickly, he sought words to distract him.
"What time is it?" he asked, irritated at how rough with disuse his voice sounded. He cleared his throat irritably and those green eyes lifted to meet his, shining with the light from the fire at the centre of the den.
"It's night time, I'm not sure of the exact time but everyone went to bed a while ago." Harry frowned and returned the cloth to the bowl to gather more water on it and began to dab at his chest this time. "I've already cleaned your wounds once today. Your stomach wound took ages to close compared to your throat." Ah, so the boy had healed him with his mouth there too, that explained the confusing stabbing pain there as well. The boy had not let anyone else come near him either, he could smell that much in the room. He liked that fact far more than he should.
"Perhaps this will teach you what happens when you run away," Fenrir growled. Those eyes flew to him in shock at his words.
"If you'd told me Vol– He would have invaded my mind the second I got out of your range, that you physically couldn't let me go I might not have tried so bloody hard!" Harry declared vehemently.
"I did tell you," Fenrir growled, hauling himself up and snarling at the pain that burst through his body at the action. That froze Harry in his rant and allowed Fenrir the chance to speak. "I told you he'd be on you if I didn't catch you first. But I will always catch you," he swore. "You're mine and perhaps this little stunt will teach you that if nothing else!"
Harry stared at him.
"Oh, yes," Fenrir murmured, seeing the truth dawning in those eyes. "You feel the need to care for me, protect me and my honour, to provide for me all on your own. That's what I feel for you. We're mates, whether you seal it by biting me or not. Although completing it would stop this confusion you're feeling." He considered the boy's expression for a moment before continuing. "You belong with me, no matter what else is going on in the world and you can't get away from me. I'm part of you and I have been since you consented to me under the moon!"
Impatient with Harry's silent astonishment, Fenrir reached forwards and tried to pull Harry to him, but his wounds slowed him just enough to give Harry time to pull back out of his reach. "No," the boy said firmly, "you're wounded and it's my fault. You need to rest and I'll bloody well make sure you rest if I'm stuck here – for a while at least."
He sounded as if he had conceded 'for now at least' and Fenrir could not help but feel a thrill of delight at that despite his injuries. He reached for him again, but still the boy resisted him, pushing at his shoulders as hard as he dared to keep him at arms length. Those green eyes were bright and defiant.
"No," he said, "you're hurt–"
"So make it up to me, pet," Fenrir growled, moving through the pain with nothing but hunger on his mind. He was in pain but he had felt pain before. Right now, he wanted nothing more than for this boy to welcome Fenrir to his body as willingly as he had this morning. Oh, the morning just gone seemed a decade away now.
"Let me fuck you," he urged his mate, tugging him closer, this time succeeding. The boy was kneeling up over one of Fenrir's spread legs, Fenrir's hand on his neck holding him in place. "Let me," Fenrir breathed, his words dusting his mate's torso that was naked save for bandages that had been wrapped haphazardly around him – as if he had done it himself. Fenrir growled softly at the faint smell of blood there.
"Lie back," he murmured and when the boy protested he added, "just let me heal you." With those green eyes fixed on him, he lowered that slender body back into the furs. Masking his own pain with practiced ease, he peeled away the bandages from that tender flesh. The boy winced and Fenrir dipped his head so that his lips touched the sharp gash across Harry's cheek.
"Let someone else take care of you for once in your life," Fenrir whispered. Mouthing the slender wound with his tongue and lips until he felt it close, he stripped the body below his of poorly wrapped bandages at the same time. When he drew back, Harry's cheek was healed and his body naked aside from the trousers clinging to his hips.
With a quick glance up at that face he was coming to know far too well, Fenrir dipped his head, ignoring the throbbing pain in his throat and soothing the vicious looking gashes across that lean muscled abdomen with his tongue. He felt as well as heard the boy's breath hitch. "Be still," he muttered against that flesh, each slow pass of his tongue and lips an attempt to seduce as well as heal. For some reason he knew that sinking himself into his mate's body was a far better cure than any bed-rest or medicine.
Harry's body twitched under his touch, arching subtly up a little now and again when the boy's control waned. Fenrir growled against Harry's skin and he slid up the boy's body. "You did well today, pet," he practically purred, not releasing the boy's gaze for a moment. And the boy had done amazing, had healed Fenrir quite well considering wounds that severe could not be completely healed by anyone other than an alpha as powerful as himself.
"Well?" Harry repeated. "It was my fault! I nearly got Ghost and you killed!" His voice was low and wretched despite the pleasure in his eyes.
"So make it better," Fenrir murmured huskily, far more aroused than he was angry at the moment. He didn't know what or how, but something had changed in the forest when Harry had thought he was about to die and he needed to explore that – needed to desperately. Fenrir almost crooned, leaning in so that their lips were practically touching, feeling the boy's sharp inhalation against his mouth. The boy's lips were firm and hard, set with anticipation and half-hearted negation but still so much softer than his own.
Seizing the boy's chin between his large forefinger and thumb, he held the boy still and looked determinedly into his eyes, giving him nowhere to hide. Pain was still there throbbing in his veins. The 'healed' wounds ached fiercely and his limbs were nowhere near as strong as they usually were, but he needed this, needed closeness to his mate who still had not finalised their union. His logical mind knew why the boy had still not sealed them, but his instincts were frustrated, distressed and confused. They would not allow him to rest while he still had yet to woo his mate entirely.
The best rewards are usually those that are hard won, Echo had said only yesterday. Was it still yesterday now? He had answered Fenrir's question of 'what do you suggest?' also, but before offering any helpful suggestions, he'd asked a question of his own. What wouldn't you do?
Fenrir swallowed and then whispered with a heady, gruff tone, "Show me what a human kiss is, pet."
Those lips parted slightly with a shocked gasp beneath him and that was all the reaction Fenrir needed. He dived down, smashing his lips hard against the Harry's, feeling that body arch up in need, surprise and relief all at once. His fickle little cub still had human needs beyond cooked food and warm clothes, it seemed. Fenrir could feel him coming alive beneath him, could see his cheeks flush and eyes close tight with desire. The boy's heart was thudding loudly in his chest. This was a human need Fenrir didn't mind satisfying in the least. It wasn't at all as vile and degrading as he had first thought – in fact…
Seizing the boy's face between both hands, he stroked those smooth, inflamed cheeks with his coarse thumbs. He felt embarrassment and bliss in that heat as he tilted his head a little to get a better angle, laying bruising, demanding kisses on those lips, hungry for more of this delightful reaction.
Fenrir growled softly against that mouth when those uncertain hands flew up to tighten in his hair. Oh, his boy liked this very much. In answer to Echo's question, what wouldn't he do to experience this bliss for eternity? There was nothing he could think of that he wouldn't do. This was how his mate was supposed to be, was supposed to make him feel.
Then, suddenly he felt a moist, uncertain probing at his lips, felt the boy tilt his head a little and Fenrir halted, drawing back a fraction in surprise. Masking his surprise with a cocked brow, he studied the flushed face beneath him. The way Harry's breath hitched told him that he had felt that pulse of arousal too. It seemed to startle some of that reputed courage from him, for he found his voice.
"Open your mouth more," Harry whispered sheepishly, his words almost lost to even Fenrir's ears. The alpha stiffened, irritated that the boy seemed to know more about this 'kissing' than him, that he knew more about any intimacy than him. Just how many mouths had his mate's lips touched? How many unworthy witches had tasted his pet's tongue? He growled furiously at the thought.
Seizing the back of the boy's neck, he ignored his cry of uncomfortable surprise and yanked him up hard to his body again, crashing their lips together in determination to burn any memory of another touch from his mate's body. This time he kept his lips open and took advantage of Harry's gasp by darting his tongue forward the way he did when tasting the boy's arse. Teasingly he flicked the tip of his tongue over those lips, taunting the corner of that mouth as it parted in an 'o' of pleasure.
Harry groaned beneath him, his fingers digging into his shoulders in a battle for freedom and for more all at once. Fenrir's tongue learned the shape of his front teeth, flicking tormentingly at the roof of his mouth before finally meeting the other's slick muscle. Oh, it was good, even to him.
"Delicious," he snarled roughly through open mouthed kisses, saliva keeping their mouths joined even as they parted with his words. He groaned and felt the echoes of the boy's own cries in his mouth. There was nothing more erotic. How had humans, as stupid as they were, managed to get something so right? "I want your arse at the same time," he grunted, sliding his hand down to Harry's trousers and tugging at them impatiently.
Harry struggled, his hands between their chests now and pushing against him to try and break free. His pesky conscience had awoken again it seemed. Fenrir seized that mouth again, this time punctuating the feral, ferocious kiss with a nip to that swollen lower lip. The boy cried out and Fenrir chuckled against his mouth, still struggling to pry his trousers off with their awkward angle.
"Surely you realise now that no one can ever make you feel like this. No muggle or witch or wizard can compare." He spanned the diminutive gap between them again with a slower, experimentally soft kiss that made a strange, unmistakeably wolfish whine leave his mate's throat.
"Oh, you like tenderness as well do you, pet?" he smirked derisively, "It's not my nature boy, but I'll give it to you. I'll give you whatever your dainty little body needs, that's what it means to be my mate. There's no way you can keep denying that you belong with me–"
"No," Harry began. Turning his head away to avoid the next kiss Fenrir had been about to lay on his mouth, he shoved his hardest against that chest. "I don't want–"
"Yes, you do," Fenrir snarled, seizing that chin and turning it back to him, sealing those lips with another punishing kiss that made his mate cry out and arch despite himself. His hand dove into those loose trousers again, tugging roughly so that Harry was forced up against him. The sharp sudden motion irritated his, Fenrir's wounds and drew a sharp hiss from his lips.
The reaction was instant. Harry tore his lips away and took the opportunity to leap back out of Fenrir's grasp, completely off the bed. Pulling his trousers back up awkwardly, the boy stared at Fenrir with concern that made a growl of irritation leave him. Harry took an extra few cautious steps backward, staring at him with far too bright eyes and kiss-bruised lips. He looked good like that and the sight only infuriated the alpha more.
"You're hurt," the boy said firmly.
"I've had worse," Fenrir snarled, "now get back on this bed before I drag you back."
.
Harry's chin raised, his jaw set and he took another step backward. "You're wounded because of me," he said, his voice still plagued with flustered arousal. "And since Vol– He will snatch me up again the second I'm out of your range, it looks like I'm stuck here for a while." Until Hermione, Ron and the others get me out of here, he thought distractedly. "You saved me," he said, his voice steady now. "I don't want to be in anyone's debt, least of all yours, so while I'm stuck here I may as well return that debt and get you well again."
Fenrir raised a brow. "You talk like this is a temporary thing, pet, but it's a lifetime situation."
"I don't accept that," Harry said with a cool voice that was betrayed by his flushed cheeks and the unavoidable bulge in his trousers. "The celebratory feast you arranged for…" he paused, wincing slightly as he forced out the word, "us? It's been postponed for now, just thought you should know." With that he turned, heading towards the bathing chamber. "I'll just have a quick bath," he called over his shoulder indifferently, his steps hastening to put more distance between them.
That…that kiss had rattled him. He needed to put space between them before his instincts, his hormones, his human needs and their incomplete bond all conspired to drive him completely mad. He would get out of here, he would. He just had to do some damage control while he was still trapped here.
Leaning down, Harry tugged down his trousers, pausing at the fact that there was no pain in his movements. That was down to Fenrir. Greyback, he corrected himself, gritting his teeth. For fuck's sake! Why was this place, this relationship feeling less and less like a trap with every passing moment? Ron, Hermione, whatever you're up to, hurry up and find me, before I lose it completely.
That kiss had been good, better than anything he had ever felt before.
~To Be Continued…