A/N: I don't think I've put this in anywhere yet (if I have, sorry for the repetition) but anyway, what the werewolves call Voldemort, Tergarletum is derived from the latin "Letum" meaning death, ruin, annihilation and "Terga dare" to flee, retreat, run away. As far as I'm aware, I made this up, no sue, no borrowing/stealing without permission ;)
Thank you again to every single reader and reviewer, you're what keeps me going and makes even the rubbish days a little brighter. I'm so thrilled to be sharing this story with you all. Please enjoy!
.: Chapter Fourteen :.
Gates to Hell
A soft, shaky exhalation of anxious anticipation shuddered over his lips as he stared across the dark countryside towards their goal. A gathering of dark clouds had eclipsed the moon and stars completely. It unnerved him how suffocated he felt now without them shining down on his skin. Was that because he was part wolf now? Perhaps it was simply because he was so used to feeling them above him, having spent a lot of nights under them in the last few months.
It felt like his mind itched as they moved across the dark grass toward their destination. He'd never really appreciated the fact that Fenrir's connection to him blocked Voldemort's intrusions until now. He could sense him trying to access him, but it was never more than this irritating prickle – even his dreams had been safe.
"Once we step foot in there, none of us will be safe," he murmured under his breath. Marrok who was walking close to him, nudged him gently with his shoulder in reassurance.
"If there's one person who is safe, I reckon it's you," he said, glancing to Fenrir and Raquelle who walked just in front of them. "There's no way anything is happening to you, don't worry."
"I'm not worried about myself," Harry retorted.
Fenrir grunted. "You should do, whatever happens to you happens to our cub."
Harry flinched a little at the admonishment, but Marrok nudged him again and stepped into line with Raquelle so that Fenrir could drop back to his side with some privacy. Fenrir's big knuckles brushed softly over the side of Harry's stomach, before caressing the back of Harry's hand briefly.
It was so dark. He was thankful for his heightened senses or else he'd probably have fallen arse over head by now. He was so far and away from how he'd awoken this morning, Fenrir nuzzling every crook and dip of his body as the sun streamed in through the window onto them both. He'd arched up and welcomed the brush of stubble, hot breath and firm mouth to each part of him, relaxed and warm.
Now he glanced up to Fenrir as they walked, heat dusting his cheeks as he recalled them both coming to completion in each other's mouths. "If you make sure we all get out of this alive, I'll let you have my arse again," he breathed. He wasn't quite sure why he said it, he just had this horrible, nagging feeling that they weren't all going to come out of this unscathed.
Fenrir's knuckles brushed over his fingers now. He chuckled softly. "Hmm, inspiration indeed." They weren't far now. Malfoy Manor was just ahead, the great wrought iron fence standing tall, dark and foreboding like the gates to hell. "Don't worry, alright?" Fenrir said when they were only a few feet from the gates. "You just focus on playing the part of a submissive broken prisoner, you'll need to make it good, pet."
Harry nodded, swallowing hard. "Remember, we can't kill him today, even if we get the opportunity. I don't know how many horcruxes Hermione and Ron managed to get without me. I need to be sure they're all gone before we attack him head on, this is purely about convincing him I'm broken so we have the freedom to go find my friends, alright?"
Fenrir said nothing, but Harry knew he was listening. "And you'll need to play the part of my cruel, beast of a captor, you'll need to be convincing no matter what he does."
They stopped at the gates and Harry inhaled deeply again before shrugging off his (Fenrir's) cloak and handing it to him. Fenrir fastened it around his own neck with an odd look in his eyes as Harry stripped out of the rest of his clothing. Raquelle shoved them in the small pouch at her waist as Harry shivered, the cool English evening whipping at his exposed skin. He could sense Fenrir's unease, his irritation that this had to be done, especially this way but they had agreed it was necessary in order to paint the picture of a submissive prisoner.
Once Harry was naked, his skin prickled with goosebumps from the cold and yet flushed with humiliation. He noticed Marrok and Raquelle avoided looking at him in an attempt to make this easier on him and for that he was silently thankful. He grit his teeth, fighting the urge to cover himself with his hands. Especially his stomach, which felt even more vulnerable than his cold genitals at the moment.
It appeared Fenrir needed a moment to steel himself for what must be done, to fight the urge to wrap himself around him, for it took him a while to act. At last, Fenrir raised his hand to wrap it round the back of his neck. He caressed his skin there gently with his thumb before tightening his grip. "I can be a beast for you, pet," Fenrir growled softly, "don't you worry." With that, a dark figure appeared at the gate on the opposite side. Bellatrix Lestrange, Harry noted and immediately bowed his head so that his hair hung into his eyes, the perfect symbol of submission.
"Let me in wench or you'll regret making me wait on the doorstep so long," Fenrir snarled. Harry thought he sensed the fear emanating from beyond the gate, but there was only the briefest of hesitations before they swung open with a foreboding squeak. Fenrir's grip on his neck urged him forward. He felt Marrok just behind him and Raquelle at his side. There was no turning back now.
Bellatrix lead them down the impossibly long dark path toward the manor house that loomed ahead. The ground crunched underfoot, the same way Harry's bones had crunched under the torture of Voldemort and his followers only a few short months ago – only to be healed to make way for the next torment. He winced as he followed Fenrir, Raquelle and Marrok behind him, guarding him from all sides. He was walking willingly into that agony again. He'd all-but forgotten it until he'd stepped through those gates but now…now he was afraid.
There were dim lights in the lower windows of Malfoy Manor, staring down at them as they approached like beady, knowing eyes. It made Harry shiver as they reached the threshold of the open front doors carved from heavy dark wood. He couldn't help himself, he hesitated on the doorstep and Bellatrix turned as he did so. Before she could say a word, however, Fenrir reached back and gripped the back of his neck in his great hand.
"Keep moving, boy," he barked gruffly, reminding Harry painfully of Uncle Vernon. He flinched inwardly, his gut clenching, but betrayed none of this and instead kept his head bowed, his eyes on the floor and followed the pressure of Fenrir's insistent hand. Somehow it was easier with Fenrir's heat on his skin, safer. He swore he felt that strange little flutter in his stomach from yesterday morning.
Shit, he cursed as he felt the unsettling hum of Voldemort's presence through the doors ahead. It was on him now, panic as thick as solids caught in his throat. He swallowed desperately and walked a fraction closer to Fenrir's side. He was afraid, he wasn't stupid enough to think he wasn't, especially not after what happened last time he was here. Just let us get out of this alive. That was his last thought as they moved from the lightless foyer into a large hall, the same room he had last spilt his blood in before Fenrir's rescue.
It was a great expanse of marble and wood filled with over two dozen bodies, including Voldemort himself who sat in a throne-like high-backed dining chair at the head of the room, watching their approach. The death eaters all had their hoods drawn back out of the way, they felt no need to hide – that was good. They assumed he was broken after months with Fenrir Greyback, who wouldn't with his reputation?
Harry just about caught the flash of all three Malfoys, a few other familiar faces. Inwardly snarling, he forced the impassive, broken mask into place for all to see. He followed the pressure of Fenrir's hand until it pushed him firmly to his knees at the werewolf's feet where he'd stopped. He felt Raquelle and Marrok at their backs and every pair of eyes in the room focussed on the back of his head. When Fenrir's hand finally left the back of his neck, Harry's chest twitched with an involuntary, minute whine.
Voldemort heard it.
"The Great Harry Potter," he exhaled in his piercing hiss of a voice. Harry could practically hear his teeth gritting together in a malicious smile. "The Chosen One, here at my feet, naked, whining like a mongrel." A sinister laugh punctuated his words. "And they said Potter could never be broken." He turned his attention on Fenrir then, his conduct morphing into that false camaraderie he usually adopted with the alpha wolf.
"Swollen with your litter, as promised, Greyback, I'm impressed with his subdued appearance. And judging from the marks on him you have enjoyed him greatly." Harry tensed, he couldn't help it, not when he now knew those eyes were perusing his nakedness knowingly, seeing the lovebites and light bruises left on his skin from the night before. He swore the mating mark at his throat burned under their gazes.
"Seems he is a little shy, however," Voldemort noted at his flinch, sitting forward on his so-called throne. "Still not adjusted to his place, Greyback?"
"It doesn't matter what he's adjusted to, he does as he's told when I tell him to. He spreads his legs like a good bitch and that's what matters to me – the evidence is obvious, isn't it?" Fenrir said gruffly from somewhere above Harry. Though his roughness may have convinced everyone else in the room, Harry felt the tremor of fury running through each word.
"Indeed," Voldemort almost purred with evil delight. Harry heard him sit forward a bit more. His own fingers tensed where they lay on his thighs, which tightened together and his toes curled. He knew what the bastard was about to say before the word even left his pallid lips.
"Show me, Harry," he breathed with feigned affability.
Harry's breath froze in his lungs. It went against every fibre of his nature to do so. The instinct to hide his slowly growing stomach made him curl in on himself a fraction. A pleading whine fought to leave his lips on impulse but he bit it back, swallowing it hard along with the bile that had risen in his throat, burning it savagely. He had to hide it, it wasn't safe. The flutter in his stomach startled breath into his lungs but he did not move. Not safe.
Suddenly, a bone-chilling hiss filled the room that came from neither him nor Voldemort. Movement caught the corner of his eye and he could not help but glance up a fraction, only to find the great scaly body of Nagini sliding into sight from behind the chair Voldemort sat on. She reared her head at the sight of Harry and slid forward. Instantly, a thrum of recognition reverberated through his bones so powerfully that Harry thought he felt his ribs rattling.
She was a horcrux. He just knew it somehow. The knowledge brought him back from his instinct to cower and hide his belly, hide his vulnerability. She was only a few feet from him – he had to kill her!
Dampening his suddenly dry lips with a flicker of his tongue, Harry slowly rose up onto the balls of his knees. Letting his arms fall down subtly to hide his private area as best he could without arousing suspicion, he kept his eyes down even as he raised his head, showing Voldemort what he wanted to see. He had to play his part if he wanted to get close enough to kill the snake.
"Very nice," Voldemort muttered with perverted pleasure in his awkwardness, rising to his feet. Harry took pride in the fact that he didn't flinch, although he swore he felt Fenrir, Raquelle and Marrok all shift slightly beside him.
"Our little catamite is most protective of your progeny," Voldemort noted, still watching Harry closely but addressing Fenrir. Harry could sense the growl that longed to rumble past his mate's lips, but the wolf grunted his agreement regardless. Voldemort chuckled softly at some unspoken private joke before adding, "I think he cares for it a great deal. I think it would break him for good to see it lying dead on his lap."
Harry shot to his feet, but before he could even glance back to Fenrir, a snarl of fury rumbled through the room. Voldemort gave a hiss of a laugh. "Come now, Fenrir, you can easily make more. From the look of his body you quite enjoy the practice." A few death eaters laughed nervously along with Voldemort, seemingly uncertain which of the two they feared more, him or Fenrir Greyback.
"He's mine and the cub in his belly is mine. Don't mistake my presence here for submission," Fenrir growled darkly. "I upheld my part of the bargain, you've seen him, now I'll leave."
At this Voldemort started forward, appearing immediately in front of Harry, who flinched back, but not quick enough. One of Voldemort's long-fingered hands gripped his wrist, while the other skirted over his bared belly. Harry whined sharply, writhing frantically and his pack mates froze, understanding how quickly those hands could end things for Harry and the infant inside him – before they even reached him, even close as they were.
"Oh, Harry, I knew you had some fight left, I can feel it," Voldemort crooned, tipping his head to the side to survey Harry's feral expression. Teeth bared, Harry snapped at thin air in warning, growling like a beast. The lights in the room flickered ominously. Voldemort smirked. "Did you enjoy spreading your trembling thighs for the most murderous werewolf in England, Potter? He's killed more than even myself, you know?"
The hand on his belly dug in, nails piercing his flesh and Harry screamed, part fury part despair. The sound reverberated through the room, signalling his distress to his pack. He felt Fenrir surge behind him and chaos erupted. Green and red wand light burst across the room in every direction. A roar that made the floor shake sounded and every hair on the back of Harry's neck stood on end as, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of familiar silver fur.
"I killed your parents, Harry and I will make you watch as I kill your child before I rip out your heart and feed it to your pet wolf. Punishment for all of the trouble you have caused me." His nails lengthened magically and dug deeper into his flesh. The sharp hiss of Nagini just behind her master was the final piercing blow and Harry screamed again, blazing white light exploding from his body.
Voldemort was thrown back, flying through the air and slamming hard into the throne he had made for himself, the impact smashing it to pieces. A blood-chilling howl made Harry whirl shakily on his feet, blood weeping down his stomach to find a wolf Fenrir ripping into the flesh of a robed death eater to try and reach him. How had the gap between Harry and his pack grown so much in a few scarce seconds? A sea of panicked death eaters separated them now.
He shuddered, feeling the cold of the stone room as his instincts made panic rise in his throat like lava. He needed to get to his alpha, he needed to make his cub safe…
Suddenly, Harry froze. The air around him changed a fraction, a low woosh sounded above the din of violence and he felt something coming straight for him. He turned again, just quick enough to see a flash of hauntingly familiar green light just miss him. The killing curse struck the death eater close behind him instead, sending him crumpling to the floor as Harry faced the caster. Bellatrix was seething, practically foaming at the mouth where she stood a few feet in front of where Voldemort was finding his feet (apparently more damaged by Harry's freak spell than it first seemed), like a loyal pit-bull.
For the first time since that day in the Ministry, where Sirius had fallen, white-hot anger did not blind Harry or send him hurling forward in thoughtless vengeance. He ran his palm over the place where blood continued to flow from his slightly rounded stomach. There were more important things than vengeance, Sirius had known that and now Harry did too.
Bellatrix glared at his bravery, clenching her teeth and spitting at him with revulsion as she raised her wand again. "I'll send you to see Sirius myself, Potty," she snarled. "How dare you use your wretched tricks of love to try and discredit the Dark Lord!"
As she spoke, a searing curse blasted straight through the body of a death eater and slammed straight into Harry's shoulder. He screamed, writhing midair, giving Bellatrix the chance to strike.
"Avada Kedav–!"
"Expelliarmus!" That second voice rang through the madness as Harry dropped hard to the marble floor, spitting blood onto the glossy white surface. He winced at the throbbing pain in shoulder, glancing up from behind his fringe to find his unlikely saviour. Draco Malfoy was lowering his wand with a shaky, uncertain hand, his eyes wide as if he couldn't believe what he had done. Harry didn't pause to think about why he had done it – he didn't have time.
"Little traitor! Crucio!" Macnair bit out from the sidelines, dodging a venomous Raquelle at the same time, sending Draco rolling to the ground, howling in pain.
"No!" Harry cried out, staggering to his feet, only to find himself face-to-face with the serpentine eyes of Nagini. Her tongue flickered out of her mouth, tasting his blood, fear and sweat on the air. Harry stepped back a fraction, one arm around his abused belly but Nagini reared higher, hissing warningly without words. Harry froze at the sound and stopped retreating.
"Some wolves eat snakes," he hissed back at her. She stopped swaying, surprised.
"Some snakes eat wolves," she tasted the air again. "Master will feed me your litter once he's torn it from your belly."
Harry raised his chin, his fingers closing around a wand that wasn't there in a fruitless search of courage. Hide, his instincts whispered desperately. Hide your body! Hide your cub! Find your alpha! Harry shook his head, battling with his instincts. He could hear his pack fighting to get to him, he could hear Malfoy rolling in agony for saving him – his stomach was bleeding. He couldn't hide away now.
"You're a horcrux," he hissed darkly. And she is a threat to our young, his mind supplied, his instincts roiling to the surface like frantic bubbles in a boiling cauldron. He had to kill her, she had to die.
"You see a lot with your pretty young eyes," she said dangerously, rearing up until she was far above him. "I will tear them out!" She gave a great scratching growl and dove for his throat. Magic exploded in Harry's gut and he leapt up to meet her, jerking his head to the side and sinking his suddenly sharp teeth into her neck. She screeched and Harry snarled around his mouthful, biting down, biting harder the more she struggled.
Every molecule of blood thundering through his veins was hot and powerful. He was dizzy with it, completely overcome by the wolf inside him. Protect young, protect mate…!
He bit down again, vaguely registering the sight of Voldemort standing a few feet away, staring at him, frozen in shocked horror. Harry was too feral to care, shaking his head like a dog with a stick, wrestling with his mouthful until at last the bones under his teeth gave a sickening snap and blood filled his mouth. The snake went limp and Harry spat it onto the ground, shuffling backwards on all fours to survey his kill.
The snake was enormous. Harry cocked his head, giving the lifeless serpent a shove with the back of his hand. It was a big kill, Alpha was certain to be pleased. He'd protected himself, he'd protected their cub. Alpha would be very proud. He spat the blood of the snake onto the ground, revolted by its taste. It was bitter, tainted by dark magic. It wasn't good. He was hungry. He was hurt. He needed…
A low growl caught his attention and he turned his head in time to glimpse ice-blue eyes rimmed with fiery gold before a great silver muzzle butted him cautiously. Harry whined slowly, rolling onto his back to show his mate where he was hurt, only to cry out as his wounded shoulder touched the floor. His mate was huge, his great silver furred body completely covering his own, shielding his vulnerability from view.
The chaos around them must have stopped, for Raquelle and Marrok were beside him now, wet noses nuzzling his hair and fingers questioningly. They were checking to see if he was ok, but he wasn't ok. They were all in danger still. He couldn't rest until his pack was safe.
"Crucio!" The voice of Voldemort ripped through the silence that had fallen, slightly higher than usual but no less insane. The burst of blinding light that flew from his wand bolted towards them. Fenrir snarled and stood firm over Harry, absorbing the curse into his fur, which glittered for a moment with sparks, but did nothing else. Like with giants, the magic just bounced off of him.
The shock and fear in each of the onlookers was palpable. But especially in Voldemort himself, whose crimson eyes went wide with fury and panic. "Crucio! Crucio! CRUCIO!" The light vanished into the barrier of Fenrir's fur as if it had never been. The alpha wolf growled dangerously, pawing at the ground but Harry whined again, his fingers curling into the soft fur of the wolf's underbelly. He wanted to go home, he wanted to be safe.
The message seemed to be successfully conveyed for the wolf bowed his head, licking Harry consolingly. Harry tipped his head to the side, letting Raquelle and Marrok nudge and check his shoulders. It happened within seconds. Several long, seconds that moved as if in slow-motion. He saw his blond packmate twitching in aftermaths of the spell their enemy had cast on him – punishment for saving him. Harry frowned, concentrating hard and reached out with outstretched fingers. He whined again, his three wolf companions nuzzling closer and suddenly, the blond's arm gave a weak spasm, putting it just within Harry's reach.
Voldemort's snarl of rage, the sound of his footfalls on the marble floor and the flare of his wand echoed in the hall as five bodies vanished with a CRACK from the great room. Voldemort froze, staring at the spot for a moment, slowly registering what had happened. Then, suddenly, he turned on the creature closest to him.
"CRUCIO!" he cried, sending Bellatrix rolling onto her back with quivering spasms. As her cries offered tribute to the strength of his torture curse, of his magic, he turned on Lucius. The man was on his knees, having been knocked to the ground with such force by Marrok that he'd cracked his skull open on the marble floor. He was having trouble staying upright.
"You!" Voldemort hissed. "You said no one could apparate within these walls, no one! Not even I can do so, so why can the boy?!" he demanded, raising his wand when Lucius stumbled over his words. "CRUCIO!" he cast the spell again and again, but there was no reason Lucius could give. He didn't know the answer. No one should have been able to apparate in the walls of his home. No one could, except somehow…Potter.
Fenrir grunted as his furred wolf body hit the ground. He staggered swiftly to his feet, gaze darting around in search of his mate. Raquelle and Marrok each shifted back into their mortal visage, checking the damage the death eaters had done on them. The Malfoy boy was still jerking from pain, semi-conscious beside them, the movements wrenching his arm from Harry's grasp. Harry still looked too feral to notice. He had used magic in his feral state, werewolf magic; powerful magic to apparate them just outside the boundary of the forest that formed the doorway to their territory.
Harry's eyes were vivid green, glazed over and blinking unseeingly up at the sky. Fenrir stepped over him once more, his great paws either side of those shoulders. Harry writhed when he saw him, his fingers gliding up the soft fur of his forelegs. But the alpha could see the lucidity returning slowly. They were safe now with their forest around them, the survival instinct would soon retreat from the forefront. Fenrir gave a soft growl, nuzzling at his mate's throat and lapping reassuringly against his skin. Harry whined softly, rolling his stomach up into Fenrir's nose.
The wolf winced at the smell of blood, the potential damage, but it seemed to be superficial. He could smell Harry's shallow blood only; the cub was unharmed. He lapped at the bloody, ragged gashes until they healed into dark pink marks and leant back, waiting for the more lucid Harry to return. Slowly, those eyes regained their focus.
"What the…?" Harry murmured as if resurfacing from a drunken stupor, sober at last. Shaking his head slightly, he frowned as he registered the sight of Fenrir as a wolf looming over him. It wasn't something he'd had to face since…
Clearing his throat he shifted so he was sitting up and found himself curiously calm. The feel of that hot, furred body over his still made him tense but he was not bone-chillingly afraid. He swallowed hard and slowly reached out to brush his fingers down the soft fur on one of Fenrir's legs, testing the little tingly sensations that tickled his fingertips as he did so. Fenrir lowered his head at the touch to meet his eyes and Harry stared back until he managed to find his voice.
"The snake was a horcrux," he murmured, for Fenrir's ears only. "It was so strange. I could just… I just knew…" He didn't voice his concern of how he was able to do that, but he had a feeling that dark look in Fenrir's eyes told him he understood regardless. "We need to go to Ron and Hermione, I need to know how many horcruxes are left so I know if I can kill him."
At his words, Fenrir grunted lowly and sat back on his haunches, shuddering as the change sent his wolf form merging back into his mortal shape one once more. The human Fenrir eyed him thoughtfully. "You're hurt," he said, shrugging off the fur cloak Harry had passed to him earlier and wrapping it back round Harry's body. Regardless of his nudity, he leant forward and traced outside the practically healed marks on Harry's belly, just as Harry pulled the cloak closed.
"The cub isn't," he assured Harry on seeing the panicked look on the boy's face. He smiled subtly at the way Harry exhaled in relief. He leant down, intending to mouth that vile gash until it vanished entirely this time; Harry's hand in his hair halted him, however. He glanced up, seeing green eyes shining like emeralds.
"No," Harry said, softy but abruptly. "Not here." He glanced to Raquelle and Marrok, then finally, the now unconscious blond beside them. He was fully back to himself and aware once more, complete with his trademark awkwardness.
"He saved me," Harry muttered to himself.
"Is that why you brought him back with us?" Fenrir asked, not entirely sure how he felt about the situation.
"They would've killed him if we left him there," Harry murmured after a long, thoughtful pause. "He was a git but he didn't deserve that and besides…" he paused again, chewing the inside of his lip. "It just felt right, instinctual or…whatever it is inside me that makes me do stupid things. For whatever reason, he stood between me and that curse that could've killed my cub and that made me feel like he was…you know, pack." As he spoke he cringed a little, as if uncomfortable with what he was saying and distracted them both by stumbling to his feet.
At the same time, Fenrir wondered if Harry realised he'd just said 'my cub'…
"I'm fine, don't fuss," Harry griped when Fenrir moved to support him. He pulled the cloak tighter around his vulnerable body. "Can you carry him, Marrok?" he asked the dark-skinned man, gesturing to Malfoy's unconscious form. At once, the man complied, hauling the blond up into the air with one huge arm behind his back and one under his knees. He smiled reassuringly at Harry, who he knew hated asking for help, or admitting weakness in any way.
"I really wish I had my wand," Harry muttered under his breath.
"Like you need it," Fenrir grunted, "you proved its uselessness today didn't you?"
Harry grit his teeth, looking away awkwardly. "It comes when I'm panicked or overwhelmed, not when I call it," he replied, "I'm tired of being powerless. I need to do something. Our pretence with Him is pretty much buggered now; I want to go to Ron and Hermione like you promised. I want to get my wand back!"
"You're hurt and our packmates are injured," Fenrir said simply, "let's head back to the den." With that he turned and began walking, Raquelle and Marrok following behind, leaving Harry no choice but to follow. His instincts were still ricocheting back and forth in his chest, his nerves still tense and shuddering. They weren't safe yet, he wasn't inclined to argue until they were. But once they were back…
They were met with uneasy silence no sooner had the gates closed behind them. Everyone seemed to have sensed their approach through the caves and were now gathered under the moon, waiting for them. Harry could not help but notice a lot of attention was focused on the unconscious blond in Marrok's arms. He shifted to stand slightly in front of them both. Perhaps it was a tribute to how far he'd come since Fenrir first dragged him into this life against his will, but he felt none of the hesitation he once might've in asserting his position.
He thought distantly that it was largely due to the life growing in his belly that he felt the need to act like the alpha he was, but did not have to dwell on it for long.
"He is not one of us." Predictably, the first one to speak out was Ulric. He observed Malfoy's branded forearm with distaste. "A Death Eater. You brought a human Death Eater to our sanctuary – and a Malfoy at that," Ulric snarled. "His ancestors were among those who tried to desecrate this pack!"
Harry met his glare with his own. "I brought him here, he saved my life and he's staying here until it's safe for him to go home. It's not negotiable," he said, his voice hard and flat. As immobile as stone.
"His grandfather killed your alpha's family! Massacred his siblings like cattle!" Ulric spat, surging forward as if to rip Malfoy limb from limb but staring straight at Harry. "Have you no shame? Have you no respect?"
"Have you?!" Harry snarled before Echo or Marrok or Fenrir could begin to defend him against this blatant challenge. He stepped forward to meet Ulric's challenge, halting the older wolf in his steps. "Fenrir is my alpha, he's your alpha but I am too," he said rigidly, the ones just feeling right on his tongue. "If this is my will then you are to respect that. Respect me."
Ulric, to his credit bowed his head a fraction and moved back a pace out of Harry's space. "He is a danger to us," the wolf murmured. "He could betray us. He has no ties to us,. When the full moon comes he will be torn to pieces if he is not a wolf and has not been claimed–"
"I claim him," Harry said simply, "He's mine. My responsibility. And if you worry for this pack's ability to keep a seventeen year old boy in check then we have much bigger problems."
Silence followed, during which Harry met every single pair of eyes that watched him.
"He saved my life, I couldn't repay that by leaving him there to die in punishment," he said. "He won't bring any harm to us, I promise you that." This seemed enough for the crowd that had gathered, even if it wasn't enough for Ulric. They moved politely aside as Harry headed for the den but it was Fenrir's hand that held the door to it shut when Harry tried to open it.
Harry frowned, following the line of Fenrir's strong arm, painted with blood from his various wounds to look into his eyes. They were smouldering gold with bloodshed and were staring down at him. "Move," Harry commanded. Fenrir smirked wickedly.
"You're becoming quite the gutsy little alpha mate," he mused, leaning down to inhale the scent of tenacity and confidence that clung to Harry's hair. "It makes me hard for you."
Harry flushed darkly. Fenrir hadn't spoken to him like this since…
He swallowed.
"I stand by your decision to repay the Malfoy brat by offering him sanctuary until he is no longer in danger," Fenrir continued, his voice husky and low. "But you will not play nursemaid to him in my den.
"What does it matter?" Harry asked, turning slightly to face Fenrir properly. He regretted it instantly, as the move gave Fenrir the room to slid in closer, their chests touching. Fenrir's face was very close. Closer than it had been for some time.
"Still much to learn," Fenrir almost chuckled. "An unmated adult does not lie in the den of a mated pair unless they're related. It's not done."
Harry snorted. "I think you knew even before you brought me here that I have a certain 'disregard for the rules'." He felt a pang of melancholy prick his chest on using Dumbledore's words, but Fenrir gave him no time to ponder that.
"If you want him to survive the night, you won't test my instinct to hide you away from anyone else any more tonight," Fenrir replied firmly, before adding, "I think you owe me that."
Harry grit his teeth and huffed heavily. For fuck's sake. He turned and looked at Echo, Marrok and Raquelle, who were good enough to pretend they hadn't heard them despite the fact that they'd been waiting patiently behind them for instruction. "Echo, will you take him? He's been unconscious since the Cruciatus faded and–"
"Of course," Echo cut across him with a smile. "I'll tend to him. You must rest," he gestured to Harry's stomach, "you've had enough strain on your body as it is."
Harry nodded, feeling guilty that he hadn't considered how strained the child must be from the explosion of magic he just created. His hand moved unconsciously to his stomach. He wasn't doing a very good job at protecting thislife, especially since it couldn't defend itself. He bit the inside of his mouth. His instincts longed to curl up in the dimly lit safety, the warmth of his den with his alpha between him and the only point of entry. Perhaps he should obey it, just for tonight.
I owe Fenrir that, he thought, realising for the first time that if he felt the constant burning of his instincts, Fenrir must be suffering with it too.
"You'll come get me if he wakes up?" Harry asked uncertainly. He knew what Malfoy's reaction was bound to be once he awoke to find himself surrounded by werewolves. Echo nodded and Harry sighed. "Thank you," he said softly, tiredly. He looked to Raquelle and Marrok, both as naked and bloodied from their interlude with the Death Eaters as Fenrir was.
"Thank you both, for everything, really–"
"Just rest yourself," Raquelle said softly, "you performed some very powerful magic tonight."
Marrok grunted in agreement, surveying Harry with that usual warmth in his eyes.
"Come," Fenrir said gruffly, pulling the door open and urging Harry inside. Harry frowned and stared up at him in confusion as the alpha closed the door hastily behind them. "He wants you," Fenrir growled in explanation, stalking forwards and forcing Harry to back up along with him. "His breath comes faster when you look at him, I don't like it."
Harry's cheeks burned at those words. Fenrir's blood was all riled up and pumping from the fight, from the knowledge that he, Harry had been in danger while carrying. The alpha was worked up, in need of release and with the way those gold eyes were trained on his throat, Harry had a pretty good idea of just how Fenrir planned to seek that release.
Any ache or pain from the battle and all tiredness was suddenly forgotten. He was suddenly very, very aware of everything, right down to the way each individual hair on the fur wrapped around him tickled his heating flesh. But was he ready for this after…?
He licked his lips. "I don't want him, you know, Marrok," Harry clarified for him, the confidence and assertiveness from a moment ago dwindling as his instincts bubbled closer to the surface. He was safe now, in his den and they wanted him to submit to his needs.
"You're mine," Fenrir grunted, heat radiating from him as it only usually did on the full moon. "I'm the only one that can protect you, can sate your needs," he drew closer, so that Harry stumbled backwards in panic and nearly fell on his arse into the cold fireplace. Fenrir caught him easily with a hand behind his back, hauling him up tight to his own body. "I'm the one that filled your belly," he added, as if this were the final, unarguable peak of his claim.
Harry swallowed hard again, his breathing escaping his lips in harsh, insatiable waves. "I don't…" He stopped short, not knowing what to say. He struggled in Fenrir's grasp to right himself, shoving with all his might against the solid wall of muscle until he was on his own feet again. But Fenrir was still standing over him, his large hands gripping Harry's hips possessively.
Embarrassed and uncertain, Harry turned, not wanting to look into those eyes anymore or feel that heated breath on his face. Those arms locked around him again, pulling his back tight against Fenrir's chest. He inhaled sharply. "Fenrir," he began uncertainly, a warm hardness pressing against his arse through the fur cloak. Those hands roved the front of his body, one caressing and cupping his throat while the other slid down to roam his belly lovingly.
"I filled you up, I bred you," Fenrir growled in his ear.
Harry nodded. "Yes," he whispered as that mouth grazed the nape of his neck.
"You're mine."
"Yours. Fenrir, stop," Harry said as the hand on his throat slid up. Fenrir's thumb glided roughly over his mouth, forcing itself inside to touch his tongue.
"Want to show you," Fenrir grunted, walking Harry forwards to the bed before tipping him forwards onto it.
"I…I can't," Harry said as his shoulders hit the furs. "No!" This time his voice held conviction, force and Fenrir stopped but did not release him.
"Don't want my touch?" Fenrir asked, his words broken and animalistic. "I haven't taken, haven't bred you in so long. I…mmm a…bad mate?"
The hand on Harry's stomach felt so warm and right, the presence behind him comforting. He didn't know if he could tolerate Fenrir's all-animal urgency so soon. Last night had been different, a more acceptable intimacy and yet that had been startling enough after being starved so long of touch. After what had happened on the last full moon…
Slowly, Harry extricated himself and turned onto his back, leaning on his elbows as he stared up into Fenrir's burning gold gaze. "Why do you need to take me? I'm already pregnant," Harry asked, for some reason needing to know. On the full moon, both of them had the urge to rut to create life, but now they already had. So was this instinct or sheer desire?
"Want to," Fenrir panted, leaning in to graze Harry's jaw with the corner of his lips, like an animal scenting. "Want…release. Want to feel you. Want closeness."
Harry stared into those eyes at that. It didn't sound like a beast wanting to unleash the tension – at least not entirely. He wanted that all as well. But could he take it? Still not entirely sure he knew the answer to that question, Harry slowly unclasped the cloak from around his shoulders, letting it pool on the bed below him. He held that gaze as he parted his thighs. He wasn't entirely sure, but he wanted it, badly and Fenrir would stop. He knew he would. He trusted him.
Requiring no further invitation, Fenrir leapt up, his arms supporting his body either side of Harry's shoulders as he knelt between his legs. "Want…want to be worthy," he growled softly and leant down but instead of diving for his throat, he looked into Harry's eyes thoughtfully before pressing his lips to Harry's.
Harry wrapped his arms around that neck, welcoming him to his body. He was in control, because he could stop him if he wanted to – magic or no magic. Fenrir would stop if he asked, it wasn't like before, with the wolf driving them both to madness. It was different now and he wanted it so badly. "Then show me," Harry grunted, challenging in between ravenous kisses.
The fact that they were kissing was a tribute to how different it was. Harry opened his mouth and tasted that tongue, groaning as it slid along his with frantic hunger. He clawed at Fenrir's neck and shoulders as that mouth devoured him, arched his hips slightly with each gasping groan Fenrir made into his mouth.
Holy fuck. He'd forgotten how good it was to lose himself to Fenrir. How much of a relief it was to give himself over to someone else. How amazing it was to relax and let the wolf inside him express itself. He hadn't realised just how much of a burden it was until he let go.
Winding his fingers in Fenrir's silvery hair he tugged, his nails scraping at the nape of his neck. Suddenly that mouth tore away from his wetly, leaving his lips swollen and damp with their combined spittle. Harry gasped for air, emitting a short whine of disappointment as the werewolf stared down at him. Blue flecked those golden eyes now, even as heavy, hot breaths spilled from that mouth. Harry had been searching for words when that head dipped again, mouthing his belly in fervent worship.
"Mine," Fenrir growled, caressing the subtly rounded flesh with his stubbly jaw, scenting him there as well. Feeling him. "My cub."
Harry couldn't help but smile. His head felt fuzzy. But it was both the human in him and the wolf that reached down to splay his fingers across the man's shoulders encouragingly.
"Yes," he said, his voice husky and rough. "We're both yours." A firm bump to his insides punctuated his words. Fenrir stopped and stared down at his skin, his coarse fingers brushing Harry's side. "Cub agrees," Fenrir grunted after a moment, before crawling up Harry's body, hunching over him and seizing his mouth with ravenous kisses. He held his face in place as he did so, so that all Harry could do was gasp hungrily into his mouth and arch up into his body.
***CENSORED. FOR FULL SCENE PLEASE FOLLOW ONE OF THE LINKS ON MY PROFILE***
It was so debauched and decadent. It made Harry's head spin with fuzzy, breathless bliss as he slowly came down – like a feather on a non-existent breeze. He felt that mouth bestow a slow, exhausted kiss on his neck before Fenrir let up a fraction. Harry gave an almost inaudible whine of negation. It was quite nice, Fenrir's weight, his warmth atop him after sex. He would get used to it 'during' again, in time, he was confident of that. Nothing seemed impossible at the moment.
Murmuring happily as Fenrir mouthed his skin, he basked in the afterglow. His mate was offering an answering, husky almost-purr as he caressed him. "I've given you love-bites, pet," Fenrir said quietly.
"Good," Harry said breathlessly, eyes closed, his chest rising and falling with his rapid breath. It matched his heartbeat, which was slowly calming down under Fenrir's ministrations. After a lingering, delectable few moments, Fenrir pulled back a little more.
"You have no idea how sexy that looks," Fenrir muttered.
Harry flushed, rolling over onto his back. He didn't miss the way Fenrir's eyes (slowly returning to their usual blue) scanned his sweaty, sated form. It was embarrassing but also sort of…nice, to be appreciated that way. No one had ever looked at him, wanted him the way Fenrir did. It gave him more confidence than he'd ever anticipated having. Fenrir leant down, supporting his body up off of Harry's a fraction, giving room between them not only for his belly, but also for Harry to run his fingers down the hard, defined muscles of the alpha's stomach.
Harry stared at the sweat-dampened flesh. He bit his lip. His own stomach had been hard and sinewy once, toned from quidditch and roughing it across the English countryside, but Fenrir was…
Glancing up into those eyes again, he realised that Fenrir had kept himself neat and trimmed since that first time he'd awoken to find him that way. He hadn't been paying attention before, too wrapped up in himself, but always Fenrir had been making an effort for him. Fenrir's fingers tilted his chin up a fraction and he realised he'd been caught staring. His blush deepened.
"You're quite good looking, you know," Harry said diffidently, by way of explanation.
Fenrir looked a bit shocked. He rolled off Harry completely, supporting himself up on his elbow on his side. Resting his head on his hand, he eyed Harry curiously. "You're probably the only one that thinks so," he mused, with no hunt of concern in his voice. Fenrir, all of the werewolves were untouched by society's worries. Here it was about strength and integrity. None of them cared what they looked like, at least, the way they saw beauty wasn't the same.
"I'm an acquired taste," Fenrir added with a smirk, interrupting Harry's thoughts.
Harry frowned. "Larentia must've thought you were, she wanted to be your mate so badly that she hated me for it as soon as she saw me."
Fenrir huffed, brushing the backs of his knuckles over Harry's cheek, still flushed from sex, before allowing it to trail down slowly to settle on his nigh-nonexistent bump. As before, at his touch, the infant within moved with the same urgent butterfly flutters. Harry drew in a breath, looking down. "It seems to really like you," he muttered in wonder. There really was something alive and moving inside him. He really wasn't used to this. It felt so strange.
"You're still Harry Potter, you know," Fenrir said, evidently sensing Harry's feelings. "And what we did just now more than proves you're just as much of a man as before."
"How can I be?" Harry asked. "I'm bloody pregnant, Fenrir!" The hand on his belly remained but the movement within him stilled. It did feel good, this intimacy, this connection – the fact that it felt so good was what made this all the more confusing.
Fenrir leant up higher on his elbow to ensure Harry could not escape his gaze. "Human men alter their bodies magically all the time to get pregnant in the wizarding world; this isn't as unusual and taboo as you seem to think."
It was on the tip of Harry's tongue to say that the main difference was that those other men chose this, whereas he hadn't, but Fenrir didn't deserve that. The wolf and the man were one, but under the moon Fenrir didn't have the ability to consider his feelings as he did normally. Harry could no more blame him for what had happened than he could Remus for nearly killing him when he was thirteen. He sighed softly, he did miss Remus, Hermione, Ron…all of them…
"I know," he said at last, closing his eyes. He felt quite tired all of a sudden. "I'm just confused – scared bloody shitless, actually, something you might not be acquainted with."
Fenrir smirked but the expression didn't quite touch his eyes. "I know what it feels like to be scared, pet. None of us are above it. Even Tergarletum is scared of something."
Harry licked his lips thoughtfully, turning his head to the side and into Fenrir's chest so the man couldn't see his face. "I… Back at the Malfoy place, when He touched my stomach, when he scratched me…" He winced. "I was afraid. Afraid for it – the baby, not myself. I didn't want it to die." He paused then, straining to look up at Fenrir through his fringe without exposing too much of his own face. But what he saw of the man's features gave nothing away. "I didn't expect to feel that way about it," he concluded.
"You want him after all – I'm glad," Fenrir said after a long pause. He rolled over a little, pressing his nose into Harry's throat.
"The thought of…well, you know having it–" He couldn't say 'giving birth' it was too surreal. "–and being responsible for it when I can barely keep myself out of trouble year after year, it scares the shit out of me. I can't say that I'm looking forward to it. I can't even really explain it except that…it's mine. It's my family, my only blood family and no one is going to take anymore of my family away from me."
For some reason, he felt what he was certain was approval rolling off of the man beside him. A huge arm now lay across his shoulders and Fenrir had stopped sniffing him in favour of laying peacefully against him. He couldn't imagine being a parent – much less being a parent with Fenrir Greyback of all people, but he supposed in a few short months he wouldn't have to imagine anything and Fenrir, well, he was…
Harry frowned then, only just realising what Fenrir had said before. "Him?" he asked.
Fenrir chuckled against him, though even he sounded worn, exhausted and feeling his injuries now that the buzz of adrenaline was fading. "When I think about it, I picture a son in my head." His arm slid down so that his hand covered Harry's stomach once again. The motion was becoming more and more casual each time but Harry found it also growing more acceptable. How had he missed this closeness with other people his entire life? How had he lived so long without it?
"Our son," Fenrir murmured then. Harry flushed darkly. "Still too strange for you?"
"A bit, yeah," Harry admitted.
"But not bad?"
Harry swallowed. "No, I suppose not." He thought for a moment and his insides tensed as the reality of the world came tumbling back onto his shoulders. "But he, he's just another reason that we can't wait any longer. We have to make things safe for him as well as everyone else." It was him that rolled onto his side then to survey Fenrir seriously.
"You want to protect us both so you have to see now, Vol– Tergarletum needs to be destroyed. The snake is dead. That's one horcrux down. I need to get back to Hermione and Ron, I need to know how many more horcruxes we have to destroy before we take the fight to Him."
Fenrir growled lowly. "You nearly lost our cub today, you'll feel the urge to den, you'll freeze in the face of danger because of your instincts – you're in no shape to go find them and hunt horcruxes, much less kill Him!"
Harry felt panic rise in his gut. Fenrir wasn't going to let him do this, but he had to!
"You can't keep me here," he warned him.
Fenrir growled again. "I can and I will. It's my job to keep you safe–"
"If you leave it until He burns the whole country to the ground to find us there will be no 'safe'," Harry hissed. "He'll never let me go, Fenrir. Neither of us can live while the other survives. Let me finish what I started!"
Fenrir snarled and threw himself up off the bed, irritating his wounds and wincing as he did so, still he stalked a few feet from the bed, unable to look at Harry. After a moment, he whirled to face him, his anger visibly reined in. Even naked as the day he was born, he still looked imposing and livid. "I let him put his scaly hands on you today because you said he had to, you said I had to keep up the illusion. But that's gone now, there's no reason to play nice and if he touches you again I'll make him eat his own hands!"
Harry sat up. Why couldn't Fenrir understand? "I'm bloody pregnant Fenrir!" He snapped and the sudden admission made Fenrir stop and stare at him. Harry ploughed on, his voice tight, on the cusp of panic. "You once said whatever I had left undone was your responsibility now. You said you are an extension of me, my strength to wield – so let me. I can't do this on my own so help me!"
An odd look crossed the alpha's face. He always found it hard to resist those two words, especially with Harry's desperation so tangible.
"I don't like it when you smell so upset," Fenrir murmured quietly.
"Then let me go," Harry pleaded.
Fenrir let out a coarse huff and slowly, rigidly came back to him, kneeling on the edge of the furs, staring down at Harry. "No," he said, "you're not going anywhere." But before Harry could argue at all, he continued, "Stay here where it's safe. I'll bring them to you."
Harry blinked, his lips parting in speech that was cut short before it even left his tongue by another wince from Fenrir. Harry frowned, crawling to the edge of the bed and watching the alpha warily. "Why aren't you healing as quickly as you usually do?" he asked.
Fenrir grumbled. "Wounds caused by strong dark magic aren't fatal like they are to humans but they're a fucker to heal." He glanced down at where a few wounds on his chest were weeping dark, thick blood "No external magic can heal it either, so there's no point in suggesting anyone else try to help."
"I wasn't going to," Harry replied shortly to the accusing tone in Fenrir's voice. He paused for a moment, recalling something important. "Won't you heal quicker if you're a wolf?" he asked cautiously.
"So eager for me to get back to my full strength so I can go?" Fenrir growled. He glared at Harry for a moment, his concern for Harry, his desire to keep him hidden and safe as his instincts demanded venting outward in the form of frustration. Harry knew he was making it hard for him. He was going against his own instincts by trying to finish the task that Dumbledore had left him, against what he wanted even, but he couldn't just hide away and pretend the world wasn't on the precipice of apocalypse around him.
At last Fenrir gave another huff of a reply, "Yeah, I heal quicker as a wolf, but I know what the sight of my wolf does to you." He looked on Harry with dark, unfathomable eyes. As blunt as ever, straight to the point, but his voice was thick and husky with the things he would never voice aloud.
Harry moistened his dry lips. "You can change if it'll help," he murmured, even as his chest tightened at the thought. He wasn't sure he was ready for it.
Fenrir frowned, considering him a moment before approaching the bed with a shake of his head. He lowered himself to the floor with his back to the fur bed, tipping his head back to stare up at the canopy above, lost in thought. Harry watched him for some time, his own eyes sweeping over the bloody wounds on his mate's torso. They weren't deep but they were angry unnatural shades of purple and red, clearly painful. Harry had led them into that place and it seemed he'd been the only one to get out with only a scratch. He winced at the thought.
Leaning down, he rested his forehead against the furs right next to Fenrir's face, so that their cheeks were almost touching. "You can stay if you want, I know you won't hurt me," he said quietly, eyes closed. He felt Fenrir tense beside him and then, slowly the man pulled away. Harry remained as he was, face in the furs, his fingers curling into the fabric as he listened to the sound of bones and muscle realigning. Fenrir himself merely gave a harsh grunt that morphed into a growl as his mouth became a muzzle. But Harry still didn't move. He waited.
After the sounds of change died and gave way to silence, Harry felt that warmth again, that presence just a few inches away. He steeled himself and raised his head, seeing the familiar silver wolf bowed forwards so that his head was level with Harry's face and not towering over him. Harry inhaled sharply, his heart pounding in his chest, sweat beading across his brow as his breath came in sharp, shallow pants. He held his breath in an attempt to stifle the sound of panic in it and forced himself to give Fenrir a nod of assent.
Ice-blue eyes regarded him carefully before the wolf slid onto the bed, moving across it on his belly as if unwilling to tower over him as his size typically allowed him to do. He grunted as he shifted and settled quickly in the centre, resting his head on his crossed paws. Harry couldn't move for some time.
"I still don't think I can handle it, especially not another wolf – I'm definitely not ready for the full moon but I…" He paused, his limbs shaking as he shuffled uncertainly closer to Fenrir, who was watching him patiently. "I know you won't hurt me," he finished. At this, Fenrir strained his neck so that it was the only part of him that moved and sniffed at Harry's belly. His long tongue flicked out, licking at the dark pink marks that were all that was left of the wounds Voldemort had inflicted.
Harry tensed at first, gritting his teeth and wincing but he knew the act was not a sexual one. His stomach was a sacred place on his body with the baby inside him – to all of the pack. Hesitantly, he raised his hand and caressed Fenrir's large furry ears. The wolf raised his head, cocked it to once side as if thinking for a moment. Then, in a most un-Fenrir like manuevre, he rolled onto his back, paws in the air, never once tearing his gaze from Harry.
Unable to help himself, Harry smiled and stretched out, on his side, pressing his back into Fenrir's fur in a silent acknowledgement that he was doing alright. With a relieved huff, Fenrir turned back onto his stomach, so that Harry was pressed into the warm fur of his side. That muzzle snuffled at the back of his head affectionately, the tongue lapping at his hair in both gratitude and reassurance.
When Fenrir laid his head down, his body relaxing, Harry breathed out a relieved sigh. It was alright. He could do this. Fenrir had done so much for him after all and besides that, deep down, he missed the way it had once felt. It wasn't as calming as it had been when he'd first met Fenrir, but he would get used to it again, be able to relax into the warmth of that fur, in the presence of Fenrir's other form as well – in time. He just hoped all of them lived long enough to see that day.
~To Be Continued...