WARNING! The first scene of this chapter may be hard for some of you to take. It was hard for me to write so I will understand if you don't read it. Skip to where the huge chunk of italics stop if you're of the faint-hearted. It contains a flashback to the day Fenrir lost everything and whilst it will give you some insight into why he is the way he is, it isn't neccessary to read if you don't think you can stomach it. please don't say I didn't warn you!
Name/History key: in the flashback, Adair and Shae are Fenrir's parents, Fenrir is 17, Louden, Lyall and Llora (the triplets) are 11 and Wolfram is 6.
Adair - pronounced AH [apple] DARE [dare]
Louden - pronounced LOUW [loud] DUN [as you say the end of 'London']
Lyall - pronounced LIE [lie] ULL [pull]
Llora - pronounced the same as 'Laura'
Wolfram - pronounced Wolf-ram as you would expect
Thank you again to everyone reading/reviewing or both. Your support means the world to me. Please enjoy!
.: Chapter Sixteen :.
Inner Magic
There was an uneasy tension in the forest today. They always headed out just after the full moon when everyone was at their most relaxed and the forest wasn't on edge, sensing their transformation. But it didn't feel right somehow. Fenrir frowned from where he sat in the boughs of a tree, arms crossing his chest. It was made even worse by the fact that he'd been lumped with watching the cubs.
The triplets were tussling about like wolves in human form in the dirt, Louden and Lyall snapping and snarling at each other, while Llora kept herself on all-fours, poised on the tips of her fingers and toes, ready to pounce on them both. It was funny how being out in the arms of nature right after a full moon always brought out the animal in them. Fenrir snorted in annoyance at the eleven-year-olds. He wanted to be out running through the trees, helping his parents with the hunt, not babysitting.
A snap of a branch from above had him rolling his head back on his shoulders to see Wolfram was leaping boldly from branch to branch, his chubby little six-year-old body getting less and less clumsy every day. "You know you're a wolf and not a squirrel, right?" he called up to the little mousey-haired boy, who beamed down at him in response. Fenrir tried valiantly not to let his mask of indifference slip.
"I'm getting really strong!" Wolfram squealed, dangling from a branch by just his arms, his bare toes dancing midair just above Fenrir's head.
Fenrir rolled his eyes, yanking the boy down by a foot so that he wouldn't have to see the boy's assets dangling there any longer. Werewolves didn't care about nudity in the way humans did, but he still didn't want to see it that close up! To his surprise, Wolfram landed nimbly on his toes on the branch.
"Strong as an ox," Fenrir murmured gruffly.
"Strong as Alpha!" Wolfram declared solemnly, his little face suddenly very serious.
Fenrir couldn't help it. Despite how irritated he was, he ruffled the boy's hair affectionately, but as he did so, the wind picked up a fraction and he caught a foreign scent on the air. He frowned, glancing around them. There were lots of them – wizards and witches. He could smell blood too, werewolf blood. At that moment, the oblivious triplets below let out squeals of delight, howling as if at the moon as Llora pounced on the boys and they rolled in the mud.
"Shut it!" Fenrir hissed down at them urgently. As ever, they ignored him. He glared at Wolfram. "Stay here, no matter what happens and don't make a sound, got it?" Fenrir said sternly. Wolfram's ice-blue eyes were wide and anxious. He had smelt the blood and the strangers too, although he was too young to know what it meant. He edged forwards when Fenrir rolled up onto his toes, grabbing Fenrir's arm.
"Please!" He whimpered. "Don't leave me. Stay here with me – please!"
Fenrir winced. "Stay here, I need to get the other three up here. I'll be right back, alright? I promise," he said. Wolfram didn't want to let him go, but Fenrir forced him to, yanking his arm out of reach and giving him a final commanding glance before dropping to the forest floor.
"Oi! Fucking listen to me for once!" he snarled at the triplets under his breath, seizing Llora by her hair and yanking her up off the other two. As he now held the ringleader, the other two stopped dead and stared up at him. Rarely had they seen him this incensed and now they had stopped, it seemed they too could smell it – the danger in the woods around them.
"Now you realise," Fenrir grunted, dropping Llora to her feet. "Get up in the tree with Wolfram and stay quiet. The leaves are thick enough that you can't be seen from the ground."
The identical brown-haired boys stared up at him, then looked to their sister – all three children seemed apprehensive. "We need to go find Alpha and Dad," Llora whispered, rubbing her arms up and down as she stared around the forest. Even the birds had stopped singing now. The sense of urgency, the need to get them out of sight was fraying Fenrir's temper. With a snarl he reared back, letting the change take him until he stood as a silver wolf before them both. It was something he'd only done a few times before outside the full moon, but he had a feeling it was the only way he'd get them to obey.
Snapping his jaws he butted Llora with his head, shoving her toward the tree. She glanced at him uncertainly before inclining her head in surrender and bolting off toward the tree. Fenrir followed, bowing his head to let her step on it to boost her up into the safety of the branches. Lyall followed her up without a word but Louden paused on the ground, watching him carefully.
Footseps were approaching them. Fenrir, for the first time in his life felt afraid. He grunted at his younger brother, gesturing with his head for him to climb up.
"I'm scared, Fenrir," the boy whispered, "Dad and Alpha–"
Fenrir growled warningly, bearing his teeth in a way that could only say, 'I am the alpha right now'. Louden blinked once, twice before leaping up into the branches with a helping shove from Fenrir's muzzle. Once all four were up there and out of sight, Fenrir shimmied backwards, intending to leap up with them – to keep them in order and silent but before he could, a sharp, blistering pain had exploded in his side.
"Got one lads!" Someone shouted. A flare of red light erupted in the clearing, then a foreboding hiss of silver. Fenrir glanced down just as another burst of agony ripped through his ribs. Two silver arrows lay deep in his side, burning his flesh with a sickening sizzling. He howled, whirling around and lunging for the white-blond wizard that raised his wand again. This time Fenrir saw the spell, saw the red light that bore the silver arrow and dodged it – just in time. He rolled in the dirt and snapped his jaws, just missing the blond's arm.
"Get him!" a crowd of voices cried. Light, silver and pain burst through the air. Fenrir howled in agony as five more arrows pierced him. Dropping to the floor under the searing pain, he cried out. His parents, Ulric, Echo, Marrok, the rest of the pack were all out here somewhere. But then, as the crowd of men stood over him, he caught sight of the silver hexagram emblazoned on their crisp black robes. They were The Hunt. Everybody else was either dead or in just as much trouble as he was now.
No one is coming to save us, he thought, loathing how pitiful he sounded even in his own mind. The only small mercy was that the cubs were safe in the tree. He grit his teeth. The silver was starting to get to him, burning his blood like acid. He whined, unable to stop himself, unable to move even as the group of nine spread him out so that he was in a deformed star shape – belly in the dirt.
He felt cold despite how the silver burned. He'd never felt so cold…
"Pin him down!" The white-haired wizard sneered. Fenrir had enough strength to turn his head just enough to see them conjure five great silver stakes, as big as rail-road spikes. They hovered the air above him, each joined to all of the others by a silver webbing that glowed ominously. Fenrir knew what it was. He struggled in the dirt to move but he couldn't. All he could do was grit his teeth together and try not to scream as the stakes were driven down in through each of his legs and tail.
But he did howl. He knew the cubs could hear but he couldn't stop.
The netting burned his flesh and fur as it pinned him to the earth. Oh fuck it burned. Make it stop!
A bone-chilling howl that had nothing to do with him ripped through the clearing then. Two huge wolves flew into sight, a flash of black and silver told him it was his parents. He should have felt relief at their presence, but he knew with a sense of foreboding that they were all doomed.
The forest was illuminated with silver and red flashes, the air thick with yelps of pain and screams. Wizards fell but Fenrir heard more replacing them, heard their screams increase tenfold – heard his alpha howl in sheer agony at the same time as his dad yelped.
"Shae!" Adair cried with his humanoid lungs.
Fenrir would forever curse the instinct that made him crane his neck to see what had happened. That sight would stay with him forever. His alpha was cradling his dad's body, which was crumpled, legs sticking out at odd angles, blood pooling on the forest floor under his frame that was shaking and writhing in reaction to the silver. A sickening smoking, bloody froth was erupting over his lips, burning his mouth and chest as it spilled out.
There must have been thirty silver arrows in him, poisoning his veins and Fenrir winced and cried at the sight, the sound of his dad trying to speak through his burning throat. "F-Fenrir – the cubs, Ad-air!" Shae gasped and choked, burning from the inside out. "Mmmgh…boys…my little girl," he choked, his one good hand shaking with spasms as it shoved frantically at Adair's chest to make him leave. "P-Pleaghze!" Adair cried and screamed in unison, swiping at the wizard that leapt for them and sending a great wave of blinding magic slicing through him. The wizard fell in several pieces to the soiled forest ground while Adair stood, tearing the three arrows from his own arm and torso.
The alpha wolf's eyes glowed gold as he let the change carry him into the form of a jet black wolf. He lunged for the nearest human, his great jaws locking around its head and biting down, shaking it like a ragdoll. Adair spat his remains on the earth and moved to the next.
In the midst of it all, Fenrir saw Shae roll his bloodied head of silvery blond hair to look at him. Those ice-blue eyes were so piercing, even among the gore that had become his face and body. Fenrir whined in apology for his failure. He hadn't been able to help, hadn't been able to move. He still couldn't move. Everything was getting fuzzy…
"Mmmgh boy…my best…boy," Shae gurgled sickeningly, reaching out as if to touch him but unable to do anymore with his limbs still writhing like the body of a headless serpent. Then he lay still and moved no more.
"Kill him! Kill the alpha wolf!" A voice cried. The forest reeked of blood. Other wolves had fallen, other cries, those of people he had known and grown with all his life were screaming out their last breaths to the sky. His mother's dead eyes were watching him from across the clearing. Fenrir felt the silver burn his bones now, he leant into the pain, bit down on his gums and reared up with a snarl of fury.
The silver stakes and net burst into flames as he found power in his rage. Running on nuclear adrenaline he flew forwards, tearing the arm clean off the wizard who raised it to defile his mother's dead body. A bone-crunching swipe of his paw sent the screaming urchin sprawling back into the dirt, choking on the blood from his pierced lungs. Fenrir roared, but as he turned he met his alpha's golden gaze, wide and stunned from the silver stake that had pierced his heart.
"The alpha is dead!"
"Burn the forest down!"
"Daddy!" The voices of his siblings were the last thing Fenrir heard as he stared into his alpha's dying eyes, before the nearest trees exploded.
"NO!" Fenrir screamed, ripping the arms off the wizard that had sent the trees ablaze with his own human hands. There were only three humans left now. The white-blond wizard sent a silver stake through Fenrir's calf, nailing him to the ground again where he lay beside his alpha's body, listening to the children scream their last screams.
"NO!" he cried. He wrenched his leg free but it tore the ligaments so badly he couldn't move. He tried anyway. He slumped forward in the dirt and howled, slamming his fists down in the dirt when he could do nothing but listen.
"Kill the boy," a wizard sneered, gesturing to Fenrir. "Then we must go, before the aurors can respond to all that howling the local villages must've reported."
Fenrir's claws curled in the bloodied dirt. He dug deep, rooting himself into the earth and strained every tendon in his abused body as he called on his last strength. He glared up at the sky and watched as the sunlight faded, as dark, heavy clouds covered the heavens at his bidding and flashed with lightning, roiled with thunder. It clapped and roared the way he felt inside. Rain burst from their depths and doused the flames the wizards had conjured.
But it wasn't enough. His brothers and sister were silent, no sound came from the tree and Fenrir couldn't bear to look up at the charred remains of the tree itself to see if there was anything of them left. He couldn't bear it.
The heavens howled along with him, the rain swept across the forest and lightning bolted down, striking two of the wizards down dead where they stood. The other apparated before the third stroke of lightning could reach its target. Fenrir rooted his fingers deep into the dirt. So much blood, so much suffering, death and misery. He felt tears stream down his bloodied cheeks, swore he felt parts of him snap under the strain to make his useless magic do something, anything to make it better.
What was magic for if it couldn't make it better?
"Fenrir? He's over here!" He could hear Echo's voice in the distance. Fenrir was panting now, longing for the magic in his body to spread through the earth to his parents' corpses, to bring their lives back, to bring his siblings back. His chest was heaving, not just from exertion but crying and snarling out his agony. He was still bleeding. Silver was still pumping through his body.
He was dizzier than ever now. He pushed his fingers so hard into the ground that they broke. He still pushed. "Please!" he gasped, choking and shaking as the rain soaked him, the thunder still rumbling above. He wanted it to rain and rain until it washed it all away, until it made it good again. "You can have all my magic, all my blood – everything! Just PLEASE!" he screamed, to whoever would listen, to whatever force lay behind this madness. "PLEASE HELP ME!"
"Fenrir!" Echo called from closer now, and then, "oh my God…"
The sound of Echo's horror-struck gasp and the last low grumbling of thunder was the last Fenrir heard before his body and magic finally gave out and he blacked out, face-first in the mud.
Harry lay silent for a long time after Fenrir's husky, emotion-abraded voice had died in the suddenly solemn quiet. His head was resting on one of the man's broad shoulders, shoulders that had carried such a burden all alone, all this time. Harry bit the inside of his mouth as he struggled to find something, anything comforting to say. But he could find nothing to eradicate that hurt. His life with the Dursleys, without his parents and growing up facing so many trials in the wizarding world, it had been hard but Fenrir's suffering seemed more brutal somehow.
What'd happened to him, Harry had been awful but he'd never seen anyone burned alive or his parents butchered in front of him like animals. He thought of Cedric's life blasted from his eyes by blinding green light, his own parents' final screams...
Because a good majority of the people in the wizarding world still think he's a monster, his mind supplied. Because my world did this to him and some of them out there would probably still think that what The Hunt did was right. And they'd done it not just to Fenrir's pack, but all of them.
Letting out a long, slow breath, Harry slid his hand across Fenrir's where it rested on his swollen stomach. The man's hand hadn't moved the whole time he'd been speaking. As if his touch now could protect his cub the way he hadn't been able to protect his family.
"And then you went after them, tracked them down like you said in the pub that night. Were The Hunt disbanded after you killed most of them?" Harry asked at last, grabbing at something, anything to break the suffocating silence.
Fenrir snorted. "They couldn't afford to regroup with my case drawing so much attention from the public eye," he replied stiffly, voice still sounding pained and distant, as if his mind was still back there with his dying family. "Besides the damage had been done. There are very few packs left in Britain, only a few nomads and then the registered ones like your Lupin, trying to fit in where they don't belong."
Harry winced at the bitterness in his voice. After a moment he sat up slightly on one side, looking down at Fenrir's face. Those blue eyes were determinedly avoiding him, unwilling to betray emotion but there was no hiding the agony Harry felt through their connection, humming mournfully in his bones. "You're not the only one to have made mistakes when you were younger," Harry said. "I've made plenty, I bet I'll make more. You could argue that the wizarding world is in this situation with Targarletum just because his mum made a mistake thinking she could make someone love her with magic."
Fenrir looked confused for a moment, reminding Harry that he hadn't told Fenrir about Voldemort's history that he'd learned with Dumbledore. Not that that was important now.
"I made your Lupin what he hates most because of that mistake," Fenrir said darkly, staring straight into Harry's eyes as if challenging Harry to argue. "He'd probably say that I ruined his life."
"I know," Harry said simply. "And I forgive you." That simple, unexpected reply seemed to startle Fenrir. His brow creased with a frown. He searched Harry's eyes for something for some time and whether he found it or not, he turned onto his side away from Harry, hiding his emotion behind the illusion of sulking.
"Well you know it all now, alright?" he grumbled.
Harry sat up a little more in the bed, dragging a low, resigned sigh from Fenrir's lips. The man didn't turn back to face him though. Harry stared at him from behind, gaze roving the muscles of his back, his arse, his legs unhindered by clothes and uninhibited by embarrassment because Fenrir wasn't watching him look. His skin bore pale, barely visible scars that Harry had seen but never really taken notice of before. They were wide, deep and Harry knew that they came from being lashed with silver the night he'd lost his parents. He winced, reaching out to brush his fingers over the widest one.
Fenrir wrenched back round with a roar, seizing Harry's wrist, eyes blazing. "Don't you fucking dare pity me!" he snarled, enraged.
"It's not bloody pity!" Harry snapped. "It's empathy, it's…understanding. I get it now, why you're so-"
"What?!" Fenrir growled. "So fucking charming? Chivalrous? You think you can admit that you want me now? Now you can justify my worst deeds? It's alright now, is it?"
Harry glared, wrenching his hand back. He shifted out of the bed, his enlarged stomach taking away any dramatic effect. He pulled Fenrir's cloak round him and marched over to sit on the circle of furs by the fire, which flared to life at his approach, emitting warmth and light that spread through him as he stared into it. The orange glow pierced him when he thought of a young Fenrir losing everything in the most violent, cruel way possible. It hurt.
Suddenly two warm arms were encircling him, pulling him back to a firm chest. Harry let him, feeling Fenrir's nose and mouth at his nape. Harry breathed out slowly. "You're afraid of losing me and the baby, the rest of the pack like you lost everyone before," he murmured softly, reaching up to grasp the arms around him. He tilted his head to the side, accepting Fenrir's wordless apology against his neck. "You're afraid you might make a mistake again that costs you everything. You're afraid, angry and bitter but you can't spend every second of life second-guessing yourself. Whatever's coming will come, we just have to face it when it happens." He waited a heartbeat. "Together."
Fenrir was silent for a moment, then snorted softly against his neck. "Dumbledore tell you that, did he?"
"Hagrid, actually," Harry said, staring thoughtfully into the flames, thinking of his friends and what problems they themselves would bring to him and Fenrir when they were reunited again. "I suppose I know why you hate wizards and the world I belong to a bit more now."
"You belong here with me," Fenrir said gruffly, his bristly jaw nuzzling into him more determinedly.
Harry didn't answer that – he couldn't answer a question he didn't know the answer to. He loved the valley and the pack, but he loved his friends too, Hogwarts and Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, Christmases at The Burrow, Quidditch...
But then there was a soft kick against his insides and he winced, both at the pain and the realisation that their child would find it hard to live in the wizarding world, if not impossible.
The warmth of the fire licked at his toes. He reached down with one hand, pushing gently with his palm at the little bludger nudging his bladder, trying to shift him into a more comfortable position. At the same time, he imagined the cries of Fenrir's siblings as they were burned alive, just for being born the way they were. Something inside him ached to think of it, boiled with rage and misery all at once. The thought of that fate befalling his little bludger…
His.
His instincts surged a little under the surface, they were so unnervingly close these days. The push against his baby's backside ended as a softer, concerned caress. Fenrir's large hand came to rest on top of his. He didn't need to speak for Harry to understand. Fenrir can't survive losing me or the baby, he thought. Just the thought of it drives him insane.
Even the strongest man is only as strong as his weakest link he supposed. Even Voldemort feared death. Fenrir, the alpha wolf, the one even Voldemort fidgeted uncertainly around – he was scared of losing the people he cared about just as much as Harry. But unlike Harry, who knew that great power came from that love, Fenrir loathed himself for that vulnerability.
"You saw what I did when Ulric came at me," Harry said then, "I won't let anyone hurt it."
"Or you," Fenrir grumbled, "you're the one that gets into trouble every time you so much as sneeze."
Harry flushed slightly, but didn't move. "I do know that the wizarding world can be a dark and evil place at times," he interjected, just so that he was sure Fenrir knew. "Believe me, I've seen my fair share of how corrupt it is." That was why the valley was such an appealing home to him, he supposed. Filled with an extended family who cared for each other, segregated from the darkness outside – but also from the lighter parts too. The parts that Harry missed with such bone-deep longing that it hurt. "But wherever I go, it's still a part of me. Part of me is still out there. My friends are like my pack, alright? Or, my other pack at least. They're my family."
Fenrir's grip on him did not ease off but he didn't say anything either. Thanks to their connection, he knew how lost Harry felt when it came to the future. With a war going on, with Voldemort to destroy, they would have to take each day as it came. But after that...
After that terrified them both even more than the war at times, because in the unlikely event that they all got out of this alive, what were they going to do? What will I do if I lose him? Harry wondered, tilting his head so that he could brush his lips against Fenrir's stubble, breathing him in. Right now, this is good. This is all that matters.
"What those wizards did to your family was disgusting," Harry said after another pensive silence. "I can't believe that those Ministry officials have the gall to call you monsters. Especially after hushing it all up as well." When he felt Fenrir tense at the return to the subject of his family, Harry reached up with his free hand to scratch lightly at the back of Fenrir's neck, holding him still, forcing him to accept comfort the way he probably hadn't since he was seventeen years old.
He thought of all the unhelpful words that people had offered him when he'd watched Cedric, Sirius and Dumbledore die. It'll get easier. You'll be alright. Life goes on. They're in a better place. I'm sure it didn't hurt. And his favourite, it wasn't your fault.
Fenrir had lived with this weight for decades, he'd probably heard all of them and they'd probably been as helpful to him and they'd been to Harry. So Harry just dragged his fingers through those silver locks, tugging until Fenrir's head lifted from his neck and his lips were just next to Harry's. Close but not touching. "I know I'm not much of a consolation, but I'm here," he murmured. At the awkward angle he could only just see Fenrir's eyes, but in that moment they were brightest, electric blue.
"There must be some good in the wizarding world shithole if they made you," Fenrir mumbled, kissing the corner of his mouth. His stubble tickled. Harry's light growth had stopped since he'd gotten pregnant. Hormones, Amoux had told him. It felt odd to miss something as inconsequential as facial hair, but he couldn't wait for it to start growing again. He wanted to just be…a man with Fenrir again, with nothing else between them.
"Some parts are amazing. I'll have to show it to you sometime," Harry mused lightly. Fenrir kissed his mouth again and offered no other reply. Harry winced. "I know I can't make up for what they did – no one can. And I know there have been bigoted arseholes since the dawn of time and probably always will be, I just wish I could change them. Change the world for...for this little bludger and for you."
He'd finally gotten said little demon to shift off his bladder. The relief was so profound that he sighed, but didn't move his hand. It felt good to touch, communicate with it in the only way they could.
Fenrir didn't kiss him again. He held Harry tight to his chest and tipped them both into the comfort of the furs around the fire, pulling the fur cloak from Harry's shoulders so that the heat of his chest could meld against Harry's naked side. He leant slightly over him, staring down into his face with the most thoughtful expression Harry had ever seen. His eyes were dazzlingly bright in the fire, hair hanging over one shoulder. A large hand slid up Harry's stomach, his torso, his chest and to his throat, where it caressed the mark there reverently.
"You've already changed everything," Fenrir said, smothering any reply Harry had to offer with his tongue.
Harry quivered as he felt the pull of the moon sweep over his skin. Even in the den, where he couldn't see the sky, he knew it was close. Inhaling deeply, he swore he could taste it on the air. It was not so much of a torture now, so much as a reprieve without the urge to mate and rut getting in his way. No, this was the one time he could enjoy submitting and relaxing, letting someone else worry about everything while he forgot his concerns and responsibilities.
They had all agreed it would be a good idea for him to wait inside the den with Draco until everyone had undergone the change. Echo and Fenrir would meet the moon outside the door, which Harry would leave open for them to enter alone at first. It would be just as much a trial for Harry as it would be for Draco after all.
The blond was sitting by the fire, hunched over and tense opposite him. When the tingling under his skin got too much, Harry stood and began to pace slightly. Little bludger wriggled inside him, excited by the pull of the moon as well it seemed. As he understood it, the cub did not transform, would not until it had seen twelve moons (after being born) but he knew the moon must still affect it somehow. It was always particularly active as each one approached.
"You're growing more attached to the thing," Draco's low voice said, drawing Harry back from his thoughts to see those grey eyes fixed on where Harry had (apparently) been subconsciously rubbing his bump. He stopped, awkward and embarrassed.
"Err, yeah I suppose," he replied stupidly. "It's daunting. I've never even held a baby, you know?"
Draco didn't look surprised. "Me either," the blond said. "I suppose though that if you drop it, a child of yours could not possibly get any stupider."
Harry just snorted at that, having become far too used to the blond's ways by now. His words didn't even really phase Harry anymore. Harry opened his mouth to utter a retort, only to have it clap shut again as he felt the call of the moon grow more insistent. Shit. This was it! "It's coming," he said.
Draco was on his feet in an instant, standing before him quickly, the smug, cocky expression evaporating, replaced by excitement and panic both. They had spent each moon since Draco's arrival here locked together away from the others, so the blond didn't question how he knew how close the moon was without being outside. He accepted it, just as he accepted that Harry became more animal too under the moon's watch.
"Stick with me at first, alright?" he said breathlessly, his heart beginning to hammer in his chest. "If anything goes wrong, I'll use magic to make them leave and shut the door. They know you as pack now, they'll still be themselves – only more base, instinctual creatures. They won't hurt you if you follow my lead but do not challenge them. You must submit, always," he said, stressing the point as much as possible, unintentionally echoing Fenrir's advice from months before. Draco needed to understand. "Pride doesn't mean anything to a wolf under the moon. Just…let it go, alright? I'll try to watch out for you. The first few minutes will be the hardest, once Echo acclimatises to you in that form you'll be fine. If in doubt just look to me for a visual cue, or lay down and turn your head to the side and expose your throat."
Draco nodded, all arrogance and conceit vanished from sight. Harry didn't think he had ever seen the blond paying such dutiful, serious attention to anything in his entire life. He wanted this, had truly chosen this for himself. Harry envied that he'd been given the option to choose without any outside factors pressuring him.
"Stay close to me, even when we get outside but don't touch me if you can help it," Harry explained. "Wolves are funny about their, err…partners, having someone else's scent on them. Makes them…difficult…" Hence why Harry was wrapped in Fenrir's fur and Draco wearing Echo's clothes (that were actually a pretty good fit).
It was rising now. Harry could feel it. He licked his dry lips nervously. "And Draco," he added, voice deadly serious. "He won't rape or bite you if you refuse him, but don't lead him on. The baser instincts of the wolves don't understand second thoughts."
Draco nodded and with that, a piercing cry of the alpha wolf rang through from outside.
They both whirled to face the door they had left ajar. It jerked open, ricocheting off the stone wall of the cave. Harry felt Draco jump at the great crash it made but did not move an inch himself. No, he knew better. He stayed perfectly still as he watched the two silhouettes move into the cave and into the light cast by the fire.
Fenrir came first, his silver coat glistening as he moved, followed by the tawny coloured wolf Harry knew to be Echo. They both stared with inhuman eyes, sniffing the air slowly as they stalked the den. It was unnerving. even to Harry who knew what to expect. He remained still as stone and Draco followed his example.
Suddenly, Fenrir's entire body stiffened. His eyes fixed on Harry and he shot forwards, faster than even Harry could keep track. Harry flinched as the wolf shunted him backwards. Draco murmured something unintelligible. Echo was still in place, waiting for his alpha to act first. But the sound from the blond had caught the alpha's attention and he was rounding on Draco now.
With movements slow and precise, Harry held Draco's gaze purposefully as he eased himself down to his knees. Draco got the picture. He continued to glance nervously between each of them as he mimicked Harry's actions. Harry watched between Fenrir's legs. The wolf backed over him as if to protect him from the unrecognisable newcomer while his huge muzzle skimmed the air just above Draco's head – back and forth, back and forth.
To Harry's relief he saw Draco incline his head to the side. It was a startling image, one that (even in his slightly inebriated state) he was shocked by. He felt a twang of unreasonable jealousy too at the sight of his mate's muzzle sniffing deeply at another's throat. No matter how nonsexual and perilous it was.
Driven by both a need for his alpha to accept his claimed packmate and to draw his mate's attention back to him, Harry rolled onto his hands and knees under Fenrir until he was face-to-face with Draco. He eyed the blond for a moment. Yes, he smelled just like Echo. Their alpha's breath had mussed that perfectly combed hair too. It had gone well, it seemed.
Harry stretched up onto the tips of his fingers then to brush his head against Fenrir's breastbone. He felt the wolf incline his head to lick comfortingly at his neck. That was it. All attention was back on him and his new packmate had been accepted. The blond didn't move either, which was smart. After a moment of snuffling his neck and shoulders, Fenrir crouched down, covering Harry's body with soft, warm fur without pressing any dangerous weight onto him. But when Harry found himself cushioned between him and the fur rugs on the den floor, panic swept through him. He was trapped!
Squirming, he tried to dislodge the body above but failed. He felt Fenrir's member against his buttocks. It was limp but still there. He let out a desperate whine as if in pain and the scene above him rippled with tension again. At the sound, Draco had instinctively lowered his guard to look at him.
"Are you alright, Potter?" he asked, but as he shifted forwards, Fenrir snarled dangerously, pressing down on Harry more firmly. At the same time, Echo shot toward them, backing the blond away from the alpha pair. There was no recognition in him at first, only warning. He kept moving him until the blond had his back against the cave wall and only then did he look at him properly. His eyes shimmered with an otherworldly glow. Draco gasped and exposed his neck, waiting as Echo cocked his head. The wolf inhaled deeply, shifting about nervously, his tail aloft and wagging with interest.
Harry meanwhile shoved back against Fenrir as hard as he could and whined again. This time, the body above him shifted immediately, allowing him freedom without needing to resort to magic. Harry rolled up onto his knees and turned to look directly at his mate. The wolf huffed, looking him up and down as if wondering what had caused his upset. When he saw nothing, however, he just sat and waited, his tail moving back and forth gently as he watched.
Harry waited until the panic had subsided and his breathing returned to normal before he approached the wolf again. Glancing over his shoulder, he could see Echo's tail and ears erect with curiosity. It was a good sign, he thought, even in his addled mind as he came to a halt in front of Fenrir. Harry still felt a rush of unease in his belly. He shook slightly and moistened his dry lips as he forced himself to reach forward and pet his mate's ears.
One step at a time. Slowly but surely. He could do this.
The great silver wolf bowed his head into his mate's touch, giving a low pleased rumble in his chest. He wagged his tail encouragingly. Harry smiled and shifted forward so that his other hand could caress the wolf's cheek and jowls. His hands looked so small as they glided through the fur on that massive head, so much so that his unease piqued again.
Fenrir grumbled softly, shifting forwards on his belly, a sign of submission that only he would ever see. It made Harry's breath catch. A cold nose nuzzled at his pregnant stomach then. They both paused. Those bright golden eyes stared up at him. That tail wagged. Harry exhaled slowly, stroking that face and ear again. It was ok. It wasn't even bad it was just…hard.
On feeling the firm, insistent presence of the alpha's nose, the cub inside shifted restlessly, as if eager to reach him. Harry smirked, the pull of the moon sweeping over him entirely then. He didn't care if Malfoy was still in the room with them, he didn't care about anything. He felt oddly safe as he hadn't done in the presence of a wolf for so long. It felt right again. Shrugging the fur off his shoulders, he gave a small whine of contentment and petted Fenrir a final time before ambling over to the door that still stood ajar.
He wanted to feel the moon on his skin.
Fenrir was close on his heels, unwilling to let him out of his sight. He had missed him, was constantly sniffing, licking and brushing against him. Harry relaxed into each caress, sighing as the weight of the world slowly left him. A glance over his shoulder as he reached the door assured him his beta wolf and new pack member were fine. The tawny coloured beast was half-sitting, now curled around the blond and licking diligently at his neck, shoulders and platinum hair.
Malfoy was flushed with embarrassment and his grey gaze flickered to Harry briefly in search of reassurance.
"Not sexual," Harry murmured, using all of his strength to force human words out so the blond wound understand. It was a sign of closeness and affection. He smiled almost dreamily as his own wolf lapped at his pregnant stomach, nuzzling the kicking cub gently. He watched the tawny wolf groom his potential mate and whined softly again, before stepping out under the moon's rays.
It was warm and welcoming, like finally coming home. The grass underfoot was cool between his toes, Fenrir's fur soft against his skin from where he walked alongside him. Ghost came bounding over to him first, yipping and bouncing, yelping as he danced around them. He kept his head low and bottom high, tail swinging and rolled onto his back to flash them his belly.
Harry beamed, dropping onto all fours and roughly stroking the wolf's stomach. The rest of the pack approached, each slow and cautious but with interest piqued – except for the cubs that bounded over the same as Ghost had, pouncing happily on Harry. They yelped and whined cheerfully. Fenrir gave a few overzealous cubs a shove with his paw when they seemed to be getting too excited around his mate's delicate stomach.
When at last Echo and the blond sub walked out to join them together, Fenrir looked down at his mate again. Milky skin seemed to glow under the light of the moon and green eyes glowed like emeralds in the night, shining with happiness. Rearing his head back, Fenrir let loose a deep, ringing howl that swept through the night, echoing through the mountain glade and forest beyond. One-by-one, his packmates joined him, singing a song of unity to all that would listen.
Harry glanced around. All of his pack, even the cubs were howling in celebration of his return to them, of their steadfast union as a family, all of them together, safe and warm. The blond was sitting contently at the beta's side as the wolf howled, looking around at them all in wonder. Harry wished he could find human words to explain to the blond what this moment meant but it seemed he didn't have to. The blond was smiling too, albeit nervously and seemed to understand what this all meant. He reached up and caressed the tawny wolf's fur in a mix of awe and affection. When at last the howling ceased, the beta answered his caress with a nudge of his nose and a gentle, toothless nip to his neck.
As the evening waned, the dying moonlight found the pack crammed close together in a tight heap of fur. They lay under the cluster of trees in the centre of the valley with limbs knotted together and stretching lazily in contentment. Harry shifted, resting his head on his mate's furred chest upside down so that the wolf could still lap leisurely at his swollen belly. Vilkas and Amoux were nestled up close to his other side, Marrok's nose against Harry's shoulders while Accalia's breath unwittingly teased his foot.
Echo was pressed against him and their alpha, his body curled in tight around the blond who met Harry's eyes as the tawny wolf nipped and licked his hair again. Both of them shared a small, tired smile before they drifted, enveloped in the warmth and safety of their peculiar family.
Harry was the first to wake. With a great stretch he blinked up at the thick canopy above that shielded the sleeping pack from the morning sun. He could see tiny patches of clear blue sky peeping through the gaps between the branches. Looking around, he flushed to find himself completely naked in a sea of limbs – some wolf-shaped and some human. Some of the younger pack members couldn't hold a form for long outside the full moon night and had changed back as the sun rose. It looked odd, several young children wrapped in the blanket of giant wolves.
And yet I'd never felt as safe or accepted, as at home as I did last night, he thought. Then a heavy ache in his belly reminded him why he had awoken first. He needed to piss. With a wince he climbed out of the bed of fur, using all of the sneaking skills he'd developed at Hogwarts to escape without treading on anyone.
Hopping over to the opposite side of the tree he relieved himself in a cluster of bushes there, unwittingly sating the need to mark the territory as well. He didn't know what he thought about that. Before he had much chance to dwell on it though, something caught his eye.
Apparently he hadn't awoken first.
Following the track of movement, he found himself staring at a tussling human-shaped couple on the ground, only the low, hushed grunts and snarls weren't made in malice. His entire body flushed beet red as he watched Draco and Echo rut against each other in the doorway of Echo's den (which was closest to where the pack had fallen asleep). Apparently they'd been in such a hurry to relieve some of the unresolved sexual tension they'd neglected to shut the door.
Echo's hands were knotted in Draco's mussed blond locks at the back of his neck, their mouths locked together with ferocious hunger, only breaking to allow Draco to gasp for air and Echo to lace his face and throat with toothless bites. Their hips were undulating together. Draco's hands were clawing at Echo's back. They were doing well to stay hushed as Harry could only just hear them now he was listening for it. Magic, he realised dimly, but regardless of the fact that he wasn't attracted to either of them, or how embarrassed he was, he found he could not look away.
Suddenly a thick arm wrapped around his chest, pulling him back tightly to a warm body. Hot breath danced against his neck. He arched it with a soundless whine. Echo and Draco were grinding against each other frantically now. Harry could see it all so clearly from where he stood. He was sure his werewolf senses were not meant to be abused this way. He flushed even darker and turned his head away.
"No," Fenrir's voice murmured huskily in his ear. "Look at them, pet. They look good together, don't they?"
Harry cracked open his eyes to peek again.
"Yes. Look," Fenrir urged him. "They suit each other, match each other, challenge each other. They look good together, make sense together – just like we do." He punctuated his words with a sharp nip to Harry's ear. Harry gasped, squirming in his embrace.
"No," he murmured softly, very aware that the sleeping pack were just the other side of the tree. "Not here!"
"Right here," Fenrir murmured softly. Harry part-gasped, part-groaned and whirled in Fenrir's grasp. He wasn't sure how it happened, but he threw his arms up around the man's neck, tugging him down into a hard kiss and when he bore down into Fenrir's body they both ended up tumbling down onto the soft bed of furs – in their own den.
They broke apart breathlessly. Fenrir laughed huskily, yanking him down for another kiss that he punctuated by grazing his mouth along Harry's jaw. "Your magic, pet, you're using it to get what you want easier and easier–"
"I didn't even realise," Harry began, only to be silenced as Fenrir rolled him over onto his back, kneeling over him.
"You obviously just wanted me so much," the alpha growled, reaching down…
***CENSORED. FOR FULL SCENE PLEASE FOLLOW ONE OF THE LINKS ON MY PROFILE***
Instead of releasing him to allow them both to collapse on the furs, he held Harry tight to his body and rolled back slowly. When they were both on their sides, their bodies still locked intimately together, Harry nestled his head into the pillows. One of his 'hormonal' grumbles was the lack of pillows on their bed, but that very night after that complaint he'd found his needs for comfort had been met. They'd never spoken of it, but it was just a very small thing on the list of ways in which Fenrir had tried to make his life more comfortable.
Harry sighed softly, eyes closed, Fenrir's heart thudding hard against his back and his warmth spreading through his skin along with his magic, tingling softly in the afterglow.
"You did well last night," Fenrir murmured, his voice as coarse and yet soft as ever, drifting like a feather across Harry's ear.
Harry turned his head to look back at him, those ice-blue eyes bright and shining with life. They looked like they belonged to a much younger man right now. "You didn't do so bad yourself, although I think you gave Malfoy a heart-attack–"
"Echo was giving him much more than that this morning," Fenrir chuckled roughly, sniffing casually at Harry's hair as Harry flushed. Fenrir's big hand was cradling the soft swell of his stomach and one of Harry's joined it there. It felt so normal. He wondered if his parents had ever embraced like this when they'd been having him. Whether it was normal or not it felt good, he didn't much care about anything else.
"I'm glad Malfoy has Echo. He's an arrogant wanker but he doesn't deserve half the rubbish he's dealt with since He came back; Echo is strong enough to protect him, to give him what he wants while being patient enough to put up with his flapping gob," Harry said with a lazy smile, stretching slightly. Everything was sore and achy but in a good way.
Turning slightly, HE sprawled out on his back, closing his eyes again. He'd never felt so relaxed or…okay with the world. If it weren't for Voldemort he might even feel…
"You're not afraid of seeing me as the wolf anymore?" Fenrir asked after a few moments.
"I don't think I'd like for you to hold me down in that form, and if another wolf went for me I might… I might overreact," Harry said simply, pondering his emotions from last night. They had felt like a family last night, all of them. "I didn't realise how much I missed it. No, I'm not afraid to see you or the others like that." He opened his eyes to see relief etched on Fenrir's face and narrowed his eyes at him. "That doesn't mean that I plan on letting you mount me as the wolf again though – not ever. I still find it disgusting."
Fenrir laughed. "You're such a little prude. Don't worry, pet, I have the rest of eternity to persuade you."
Harry made a face. "Eternity won't be long enough. I may have discovered a submissive streak in me but I don't find animals remotely attractive or arousing. Whether I've got a little werewolf in me or not."
"Hmm," Fenrir murmured lazily, contentedly, stretching out to trap Harry's legs with his own and massage his stomach. "You've got a little werewolf in you alright," he smirked.
Harry scoffed and looked down. It was being very still this morning, the excitement of the moon must've worn it out. It was probably sleeping. "It feels more like a Hungarian Horntail than a wolf sometimes, I can tell you that."
"That's my boy," Fenrir grumbled, ignoring Harry's comments that it might be a girl. He seemed to do it mostly to annoy Harry anyway. It was so similar to the way Ron sometimes deliberately said things to rile up Hermione that Harry didn't want to discourage him.
Harry must have drifted off a little as when he next opened his eyes, though they were both in the same place, wrapped around each other, the furs had been drawn up over them and he could hear the sound of laughter and everyday chores going on outside the den. He turned his head to find Fenrir's eyes still on him. How long had he dozed? How long had Fenrir watched him? He opened his lips to ask these very questions, but Fenrir spoke first.
"Last night," Fenrir murmured, in a way that suggested he'd been waiting since they awoke to say this. His voice was still ragged and warm but it was also hesitant in a way Harry rarely heard it. Fenrir had been thinking about something while he'd dozed and he wasn't entirely sure it was all good.
"It was the best night of my life," the alpha said, caressing his belly gently before the hand slid up to smooth Harry's fringe back from his forehead. The callous thumb stroked his scar as the man stared at him. But the other man said no more. Harry swallowed, stunned by such reverence and the intimate admission.
"Me too," he said lamely, but meant it. He ducked his head so that it fit under Fenrir's chin and dragged his own chin back and forth, so that the coarse hair on the man's chest scraped his cheek wonderfully. Rough, coarse and warm, completely Fenrir. He liked it. He might've once said that he liked it more than he should, but the last few months had taught him not to think of 'should haves' and 'might have beens'. Not when everything might fall apart at any minute. Voldemort, Conall, all of them had been too quiet. This was the calm before the storm.
And Fenrir was going to leave today.
That realisation suddenly made every muscle in his body tense. The hand that had been caught between their two bodies curled up and dug into Fenrir's chest slightly.
"I don't want you to leave," he whispered. Last night and then this morning had been so… He'd completely forgotten Fenrir's promise to set out today. That must be all the commotion he'd heard outside. They were ready to leave. The thought made Harry's chest tight and hot.
"I don't have to, pet," Fenrir murmured. "Just say the word."
Harry shook his head. He swallowed, fighting back his instincts as they threatened to rise up in the form of a pleading whine. The wolf in him didn't want Fenrir to leave him so close to the cub's birth, thought it was a spectacularly bad idea, but he had the suspicion he'd want Fenrir to go even less once it was born – he didn't know a thing about children after all and didn't want to be left on his own to struggle. Besides which, the longer they drew this out, the more likely it was that something terrible would happen.
"You have to," Harry breathed. "I want to end this. End Him. I know what it's like to grow up in a war – so do you. To live in fear and see death everyday. I don't want that for my son or daughter."
An odd look flickered in Fenrir's eyes and the man's hand tightened on the back of his neck. Harry felt that stubbly chin rub against his hair. "I don't want to. It's only a few weeks until the cub is due," the wolf murmured, his voice so low that Harry had to strain even his werewolf-heightened senses to hear.
Harry blinked, steeling himself. He needed to be stronger than this. He couldn't be selfish. "Eithne said I'd feel…different. Feel the urge to hide myself, to den when the time drew near. I don't feel that way. It's nowhere near time yet. I want you to go and get it over with. You'll be gone a day or two and then you won't have to leave me again." He hadn't meant for the last words to come out that way, but they had and he meant it. He didn't want Fenrir to go – he felt uneasy and uncertain. Scared for him.
Fenrir seemed to sense this, for he drew back to he could look into Harry's eyes properly. "It won't even be two days. The longest part will be to convince your little crew to come with me, then we'll need to get to a safe, unplottable apparition point. I know how to apparate but it's not my preferred…"
"Dirt on his nose," Harry murmured.
"Come again?"
Harry smirked. "Tell Ron or Hermione, the very first time we met each other on the Hogwarts Express, Hermione scolded Ron for having dirt on his nose – just like his mother had a few moments before on the platform. That should get them to believe I sent you at least."
Fenrir nodded slowly. "You know they may not understand the life you have here now," he warned.
Harry frowned. He understood that, but he was more worried about them all getting back safely than anything else.
Echo stretched languidly where he lay, half on top of a completely naked, pale and golden Draco Malfoy, who was dozing on his belly. They'd made it to the bed eventually in the midst of their tryst. When he'd initiated a kiss that morning he never thought Draco would take them this far. He'd been so surprised when he'd moved away from the pack that morning to relieve his bladder, only to find Draco had had the same urge. There had been some awkward staring. A lot in fact. As if they were both horny, clueless schoolboys. Well, he is a horny schoolboy at any rate, his mind supplied.
In the end, the suggestive yet uncertain look in those grey eyes had dragged him forward and he'd been unable to resist taking those lips. It had been all tongue and teeth and barely stifled groaning. But so good. He hadn't kissed anyone in so long and it seemed neither had Draco. Draco who was all slender, pale and blond and yet voracious and demanding when he wanted someone. It would have been hard to tell which of them was the wolf earlier on, the way they had growled and tangled together in release of the sexual tension that had been building between them for weeks.
Leaning up slightly, he looked down at the young man in his bed, at his blond locks splayed out across his face and the furs like a pale halo. He was far from an angel though, of course and Echo smirked as he felt some of the scratches on his shoulders and back pull taut. He'd been reserved, hesitant about acting on the desire he'd been harbouring because of how unutterably human the boy was. But in truth, he would've made a perfect werewolf.
Someday, he thought, if and when he asks to be. They could quite easily continue as they were, after all. He even sort of liked Draco being so fragile, delicately human and yet headstrong and arrogant, as if he were the bloody alpha. It made Echo smile as he recalled how even in the throes of passion, the young man had scratched and clawed at his back, cursing him for making him wait so long for their intimacy.
Butting his nose gently against his young man's shoulder he growled softly, nipping with his lips. Never his teeth. It appeared Draco wasn't as repulsed by werewolves as he had been in youth (according to Harry) but that didn't mean the boy would want to be bitten. Especially when their relationship was so new and delicate.
Draco made a sleepy, mumbling sound, not moving. Echo's smile broadened and he licked and kissed up over the soft slope of the young man's shoulder, to his neck, to his ear. There he blew gently to disturb the soft blond hair and kissed. "Are you going to pester me awake everyday?" Draco grumbled, though he didn't move to stop the gentle kisses that caressed his face. His voice was grumpy from sleep but there was humour to his words. He was delighted.
The mention of waking together for the foreseeable future didn't go unnoticed either. It made Echo's stomach warm as if he were an adolescent again.
Echo shuffled forwards and rested his cheek against Draco's, his palm sliding down and smoothing over the young man's well-used arse. He squeezed. Lucky for them both, the rumours that the seminal fluids of a werewolf were also contagious were just that, rumours. It was a good job, or else Draco would most definitely have been a werewolf after this morning. It made his wolf growl in pride. He'd gone so long without having someone to call his and now…
"You're one of those irritatingly cheerful morning people aren't you?" Draco griped, rolling over to face him. His eyes were bright and his cheeks still flushed. He belied any lingering doubt that his words were not teasing, however by running his hands up and down Echo's toned arms. Echo thought he saw his new lover blush at the feel of his sinewy muscles but didn't say anything, only grinned.
"You realise it's nearly midday and not morning for much longer?" Echo chuckled, brushing his fingers underneath the sharp, angular lines of his young one's jaw. "And you are quite endearing when you are grumpy."
Draco frowned, looking almost petulant. "A Malfoy could never be something as undignified as 'grumpy'," he griped. "Although I suppose in the last few weeks, hours even I've done a lot of things Malfoys haven't in the passed." He was dead-panned for a moment, then he smirked. "It's bloody fantastic. I've never felt so alive." He flushed then, perhaps not realising how frugal he had been with his words. But Echo just brushed his finger along the outline of his lips, effectively distracting him from embarrassment. It was charming to see him embarrassed about some things, but not about things like this.
"There's more where that came from," Echo murmured, "By the time this war ends you won't want to leave my bed. Now I've had you, I'm reluctant to let you move so much as an inch…"
Draco blinked. Apparently astonished by such a brazen acknowledgement. It had Echo wondering.
"Before you met me, did you even realise you were…that way inclined?" Echo asked.
Draco snorted. "What, that I'm gay? Of course I did! I had ample time to experiment with my sexuality. I went to a boarding school where half the students wanted into my trousers, even if they didn't necessarily like me – girls and boys."
Echo stared at him then with blazing eyes. "I'm not a boy."
Draco shuddered with the intensity of Echo's tone. "Hmm, I think my sore backside is proof enough of that," he whispered. "For the record, you're the only one I've let top me. You should be honoured."
Echo growled playfully, pinning Draco's arms above his head and leaning down, claiming his lips roughly. He felt the blond groan into his mouth, his tongue dancing out to tangle with Echo's. When they parted wetly, those grey eyes were shining up at him. Hungry again.
"Oh, I'm honoured," Echo cooed, "I'm the only one who'll get to see that debauched little expression. You've never been quite so submissive, have you?"
Draco swallowed. It was evident that he had not, yet he had liked it – a lot. "Are we mates now?" the blond asked, seemingly as a diversion technique.
"Not yet," Echo said softly, "maybe one day, when you're sure you won't change your mind. It's not like mortal marriage, love, you can't get out of it once we're bound. And you're very young and obstinate," he leant in, grazing his lips over that jaw like an affectionate pet.
"I won't change my mind," Draco said stubbornly. "I'm young but I've seen more than my fair share of the world – good and bad. I know what I want. And I've always got what I wanted in the end."
"I have no doubt about that," Echo chuckled against his skin, looking up at that obstinate look with amusement and adoration. He'd never met anyone quite like Draco Malfoy.
The sun was low in the sky by the time they all found themselves assembled outside in the valley. Harry could not help but notice the sweet-musky, telltale scent radiating from Draco and Echo as they stood beside him. He smirked to himself at the picture they made, the two of them determinedly avoiding each other's eyes.
It was nice to see; Echo had bent over backwards for him since he'd arrived here. He was sure the man had more than once helped Fenrir to see necessary changes in the way he handled him at the beginning. Harry was grateful to him in many ways, it was good to see him happy and with someone who was clearly head over heels for him. And Draco, well, he'd never seen Draco so still and speechless and...ruffled. He'd come a long way, but then, so had Harry.
Watching Fenrir who stood in the middle of the circle they'd gathered in, barking out orders and precautions to Ulric and Echo, Harry couldn't help but realise just how much had changed in...not even 6 months! It would be Halloween soon! The thought made him uneasy and he found himself wrapping his arms around his stomach – he'd been doing that a lot lately. It didn't mean anything.
With a frown, he continued to watch Fenrir, catching his eye every now and then as the man constantly looked back to him after every sentence. His stomach felt heavier, with just the ever-present pressure on his bladder moving down and more insistent with each day. He'd caught himself eying the slight recess in the earth by his favourite tree more than once today, though he'd couldn't explain why. He felt oddly fascinated by the desire to lay down in it, to hide himself from view where he could still hear and feel the pack close by.
It was odd, but it had been his first moon with the pack in so long, he was probably just having a little repercussion. Yes. That was it, he convinced himself. That had to be it, because there was no way he would be able to tell Fenrir about these odd feelings. The man was already reluctant enough to leave him after his admission this morning, that he didn't want him to go. And if he asks me again, he thought wretchedly, if he gives me the opportunity to make him stay I won't be able to resist. His little bludger thumped him from the inside, almost consolingly, he stroked his skin under the fur cloak. Why did this feel so wrong?
He found himself staring at the ground by the alpha's feet longingly, wanting to prostrate himself there and show him why he couldn't go, but he blinked back the peculiar desire. Accalia said he shouldn't have found it so easy to ignore his instincts, that he shouldn't be able to control his natural magic so well after so short a time as a wolf. But then, the rules of normality never had applied to him. Youngest seeker in a century – Merlin, but he missed quidditch. Probably the youngest person ever to produce a corporeal patronus – he missed Remus. The only one who stood between Voldemort and victory...
Why was he so maudlin lately? He resolutely blamed the hormones and stopped stroking his stomach. He was still so confused about how he felt, about the baby and Fenrir and everything else that came with it. But as he watched Fenrir ready to leave him, it made him ponder his bewildering feelings to distraction. If he could push aside his wolf instincts so easily, even now when they were making the tendons in his body itch with desire to go crawl into that hollow by the tree, surely they couldn't affect how he acted, how he felt for Fenrir and the baby inside him? Surely that meant, whatever he did feel was just him, just his feelings, not the wolf. That realisation was comforting to his troubled mind.
He'd never ever felt this way before, not just about his mate but about their child, about the pack and the valley. It felt like home and he so wanted that feeling to be real. It is, he thought desperately, finding himself gazing to the side where he knew the interesting hollow lay, even if he couldn't see it from here due to the way the grassy ground sloped gently. I know it is.
A warm, rough hand caught his chin, tilting his head back and up. He started at the sudden jerk back from his daydream and found himself staring up at Fenrir. The whole circle had dispersed aside from Echo, Draco, Amoux, Marrok and Raquelle, who were all watching the exchange. Harry flushed a little and tilted his head to free his chin but did not move away. He did however, have to fight the instinct to reach out and grab the man to hold him in place. He wasn't above admitting he had issues with people leaving him, with saying goodbye no matter for how long a time. Especially during a war. Especially with the history of people he got close to getting hurt.
Straightening up a little he set his jaw, ignoring the urge to whine low in his throat. He was a man too, Fenrir didn't have to cater to him like a child. He'd found someone who could be strong for him when he needed to be weak, but he couldn't surrender to that all the time. They were equals. He was an alpha too, he needed to act like one.
Besides, Draco would never let him live it down if he didn't live up to his previous reputation. He smirked slightly at the thought.
Fenrir laying a hand on his stomach jerked him back from his reverie once more. But when the man spoke, he was looking down at where his hand lay, speaking to the suddenly very active little bludger in Harry's belly. "Don't you dare arrive without me," he said in his usual gruff tone. The baby within kicked hard and Harry winced. Fenrir chuckled.
"I've got ages to go yet," Harry said, trying to convince himself as well as Fenrir. He must have convinced Fenrir better than he did himself though for he felt a swell of relief rush from his mate at his words. Reaching up, he hauled Fenrir tight against him and leant up on his toes to crash their lips together. He didn't care if the other five were watching him. He wouldn't be the meek submissive pining after his alpha – he'd give Fenrir Greyback a reason to come home. And quick too if he knew what was good for him.
One of Fenrir's hands knotted in his hair and the other seized a fistful of the fur cloak at Harry's back, using it to haul Harry clean up off his toes and against Fenrir's mouth. The man growled, shoving his tongue inside, letting it dance along Harry's with now practised movements, mapping the moist cavern of heat until Harry was forced to push away for air.
Despite his bravado, he was mortified to know the others had seen all that – never mind that in a wolf pack you could smell when a couple had been intimate in any case. "Hurry back," he said quietly, panting slightly. His eyes closed as Fenrir leant in, pressing his forehead against Harry's and inhaling him deeply, like a man taking his last gasp of air before diving into the depths of the ocean.
"I'll be back tomorrow night," Fenrir murmured as if swearing an oath. Perhaps he was. His eyes were bright but stern, rimmed with gold. "I promise," he added. Harry nodded, feeling a bit relieved. It would all be alright. Fenrir never broke his promises.
~To Be Continued...