.: Chapter Eighteen :.
Instincts
Harry awoke to light rudely shining into his hollow, stabbing at his closed eyelids. With a wince he opened his eyes only to find that the thick curtain had been drawn back to expose him to the room beyond. There was a skirmish just outside his den. He could see it all. The man who had grabbed him earlier and stolen him from his pack was locked in a battle with a bulky man whose black hair was tousled from the fight. Harry had only seen him a few times but he knew him as pack. The voice he used to snarl obscenities at the enemy werewolf that had stolen him made Harry realise (in his still feral mind) that it was this man that had spoken to him through the curtain before.
If he had had his right mind he would've known him as Hemming and the lean tall female on all-fours, snarling warningly at the stocky red-head trying to come to his companion's aid was Lupa. He would have realised that Remus was locked in a punch-up with Hemming. Hermione, Ron, Tonks and Snape were all there too. But then, if he were in his right mind, he would've probably staggered to his feet and got between them despite the aching pain still emanating though his body. As it was, he could only watch warily, trusting the two he knew were pack to keep the 'enemy' away.
He shifted up slightly so as to be ready in case they got too close. When he moved however, the fur cloak slid down and a whisk of cold air from the skirmish made his son's face crinkle as he awoke with a small cry. It was barely audible but it stopped everyone in the room. All eyes turned to him.
Harry pulled his mate's cloak back around him to ward off the chill and their gazes. They couldn't see his body this weak; he couldn't let them know he could not fight them off. He watched them cautiously, like an uncertain animal as he pulled his cub's blanket off to get to the main source of the infant's discomfort – the source of the unpleasant smell that now found its way up his nostrils.
"Oh my god!" Hermione gasped from across the room. "Oh no, Remus! We've taken one of their children!"
"Miss Granger," Snape began warningly, but she continued.
"Harry must've been protecting it for them when the attack happened. It can't be more than a few days old! Remus it has to go back to its mother!"
Remus grunted as Hemming stood back, the bulky wolf putting himself between the wizards and Harry. Remus scrambled to his feet, eyes on Hemming.
"We can't go back, Hermione. The defences around the valley are closed for good against intruders. Greyback is probably back there by now and realises what has happened–"
"Lupin you are incredibly foolish if you cannot see what has happened here," Snape began.
"Enough, Severus!" Remus snapped in a voice so sharp it sounded quite unlike him.
"The Potions Master is the only one that has put two and two together!" Lupa snapped, straightening up with a growl at Ron when his hand twitched over his wand. "Do not use wizard magic in front of your friend, not unless you want to disrupt what little calm and rest he's managed to achieve with you clods trying to get involved in things you don't understand!" She hissed, staring him down even as the red-head's face turned puce with rage. When it was clear he wasn't going to use his wand, she looked back to Remus.
"This feral state he is in is not our doing," she explained tersely. "It is nature letting him simplify the world by running on instincts, freeing him from confusing, stressful human emotions until his body has recovered somewhat from his ordeal."
"You did not steal a random baby by accident," Severus said simply. He had heard what had happened when Potter and his wolves has gone to the Dark Lord's hiding place. He hadn't been there himself but the inner circle hadn't stopped talking about it. If he had been able to escape Hogwarts without arousing suspicion earlier, he would've been able to tell Lupin and the others, possibly make them think twice before they brought the wrath of Fenrir Greyback down on them all. Any form of long-distance communication was too vulnerable to interception though. He sighed inwardly. It could not be helped.
Gryffindor as he was, Lupin had charged in without waiting to hear from him as they'd agreed. Now they could only play the hand that had been dealt in consequence. Lowering himself into the chair, he locked eyes with Potter as the boy set a fresh nappy on the infant and set the soiled one aside. It vanished instantly (thanks to the boy's elf no doubt). The boy's eyes were vibrant gold and wary, like a vulnerable animal. How long would this last?
Werewolf births were so delicate and secretive. What was known of them was minimal but Severus knew that they could've seriously endangered Potter and the child by interrupting their recovery period, by dragging them away from their den and alpha. There was no way to tell how much damage had been done until Greyback started banging down their door. And Severus had no doubt that he would. Especially if the rumours about the way the boy had looked at Greyback were to be believed.
"If you weren't so drugged up on wolfsbane you'd be able to smell it, Lupin," Hemming murmured. "That baby is a few hours old, not even a day and it belongs to Fenrir and Harry. That is why Harry is still feral. He just gave birth – was triggered into it early it seems and he should be asleep surrounded by his pack with his mate, but you–"
"Saved him!" Ron spat. "They saved him!"
"Potter was safer with Greyback than he ever will be here," Severus interjected mildly.
Remus looked horrified. "How can that be Harry and Greyback's son?" He stared at everyone in turn as if they held the answers. "The only ones who can carry a werewolf cub to term are those with the recessive gene. James and Lily didn't have it!"
"They may not have known they carried it, Lupin. It can go generations back without ever being awakened," Severus explained. "The fact of the matter is, Potter is a carrier and has only hours ago birthed Greyback's son in the middle of battle. You have endangered the lives of the boy and the child. You have violated every tradition they hold by tearing him away from the pack when he and the infant need them most. You taught Defence Against the Dark Arts, did you not? You know the severity of what you have done and Greyback will be coming for him when he realises he is gone."
Remus' eyes darkened. "He won't have him – over my dead body!"
Severus' expression twisted. "I am sure Greyback will be more than happy to arrange that. Let me tell you, Lupin, rumour has it that during Potter's little display before the Dark Lord he was more than happy to be Greyback's consort."
"You take that back!" Ron snarled, disgusted. "Take it back!"
"Stop it all of you!" Hermione cried, "can't you see all this arguing is upsetting him?!" At her exclamation, everyone fell silent. The feeble sounds of distress from the baby were the only thing to be heard besides the crackling fire in the oversized hearth.
As the tension abated, Harry gradually relaxed. His pack-mates were still between him and the oddly familiar humans. They were all still again, but despite that his cub was still crying pitiably. After adjusting the nest of furs and making it comfortable once more he pulled his mate's cloak round him as he lifted his cub to his chest.
Abruptly rising to his feet, Snape headed for the stairs. "I have no desire to watch Potter sprawl there naked like the rest of you. Let me know when Greyback arrives – we will have our hands full with him." With that, he disappeared up out of the kitchen.
Tonks cleared her throat uncomfortably. She wasn't the only one feeling awkward at the realisation that Harry was in fact naked under the cloak. Though they hadn't seen more than his chest yet, it made them all very careful not to look in his direction for too long, lest they glimpse more than they bargained for.
After a moment or two, Harry leant back against the wall of the cupboard and cradled his son's tiny head to his chest to feed. He winced slightly as that mouth latched on. His chest was sore.
"No bloody way am I watching this," Ron murmured. "No bloody way." With that, he too vanished. Hermione, however, merely sighed.
"He'll recognise us again soon, won't he?" she asked Lupa when the she-wolf caught her eye. "He'll be himself again?"
Lupa nodded slowly. "The sooner his body begins to recover the sooner he will come back to himself. He has been through a very traumatic experience, natural, yet traumatic," she explained, speaking more gently to Hermione than she had to the others. "He will know your face again in a couple of days, I expect. He has changed but he is still Harry Potter – do not give up on him so easily, any of you."
Remus opened his mouth to say something in response, but any words about to leave him were cut short.
"He needs you now more than ever," Lupa added. When the cub stopped feeding, he began to cry once more and they all turned to see a tired and frustrated looking Harry growing quite lost and confused. Lowering herself to the stone floor, Lupa crawled towards them. On seeing Harry bristle at her approach, she whined submissively and exposed her throat, going down low on her belly. When she was close enough, she lay quite still, waiting for Harry to sniff her throat warily.
Eventually he leant back against the wall and allowed her to extend her hand to him. In her hand was an ordinary baby's dummy. He blinked at her, not moving. Centimetre by centimetre she edged closer until she was half in the cupboard. He was wary but still. Pack helped to care for the cubs after all, he could allow her close but he would not let his cub be removed from him yet. Not even for a moment.
"He's beautiful, Alpha Numero," she cooed gently, in a voice one might use to soothe a savage beast. "Perfect, well done. Alpha will be so proud." She ignored Remus' derisive sound and Harry, for his part seemed to have understood her words a little. He preened at the praise and allowed her to extend her hand again. She held Harry's gaze as she popped the object into his hand and waited for him to figure it out.
It was a fairly modern discovery but not an outlandish one that werewolf children (both born and turned) required a little more help soothing than others. Especially those in circumstances as uncomfortable as these. The baby was healthy and fed but still squalling as loud as his tiny lungs would allow and even driven by instinct, Harry was at a loss for what to do. Both needed sleep.
After gesturing to her own mouth, Lupa and the others watched Harry raise the dummy up. He sniffed it carefully, licked the end and after much deliberation, popped it into his son's mouth. The noise stopped as the child sucked at it with an intense frown for a moment or two, until the little wrinkles in his skin evened out. His small body relaxed in Harry's arm. Visibly relaxing, relieved, Harry snuggled back down into his hollow and pulled his mate's cloak over them both, closing his eyes as Lupa edged out of the cupboard and pulled the curtain back across it once more.
"Salvation in a muggle corner shop," Hemming muttered approvingly to her comrade. "I'm glad one of us thought of that earlier."
Lupa smiled, rising fluidly to her feet.
"He can't stay in a cupboard," Remus began, "he has a bedroom cleaned and prepared upstairs for him–"
"He may wish to make use of it when he is more himself, depending on how he is feeling," Hemming interrupted. "He may not. Every mother is different."
Remus visibly cringed at the use of the word 'mother'.
"He is content and feels safe in there," Hemming continued. "You've risked more than enough already, you should know better. Don't interfere anymore. He'll be able to tell you what he wants with his own words soon enough." He glanced to the drawn curtain briefly before focussing his gaze on Remus and Hermione, growling in barely contained frustration. "Why did you have to go against us? We've been helping you for months and you…" He grit his perfect white teeth. "How did you even bloody get in? Those wards are impenetrable. They've stood for decades without breach."
Hermione and Remus shared a look, the former dropping her gaze to her hands, while Remus held Hemming's eyes unwaveringly. "When it became clear that you were putting us off every time we asked about seeing Harry, we began to suspect foul play, can you blame us?"
Lupa sneered. "We trusted you. You should've offered us the same courtesy, not stabbed us in the back. Can you see now why we were so careful with what we told you?" she snapped. "If we'd told you he was mated to our alpha you'd have leapt to the worst conclusion – just like you have now."
"What can be worse than taking an eighteen year old boy against his will?" Remus accused. "Making him…making him carry his child? You mean to make me regret what we did but the only thing I regret is not seeing through your lies sooner. You were covering for Greyback, weren't you? Biding your time until Harry was completely brainwashed?"
"Sssh!" Hermione hissed softly when his voice began to rise. "Why couldn't you have just told us what was happening?" Hermione tried cautiously. "Get a message to Harry somehow? Let him know we needed to see him, that we–"
"We thought you'd accepted everything we told you. How were we to know you were secretly plotting to tear into our home behind our backs?" Hemming replied. "I'll ask you again, how did you get in?"
Hermione swallowed. "We…I found a spell in the Black library upstairs. It wouldn't have worked except we…" She looked to Remus, face pink. "We used a lot of certain artefacts to draw power from…"
Lupa stared. "Dark magic," she seethed. "You used dark magic to penetrate our wards?" The disbelieving edge to her tone left Hermione no choice but to surrender the last of it.
"It required DNA from those that lived there – willingly given," she whispered.
Both wolves froze. "The hair and blood you said you needed to help destroy the horcruxes?" Hemming breathed lowly. "The samples we gave you in good faith?"
Hermione worried her fingers, gaze dropping to her hands again. "I'm sorry," she whimpered, "I'm so sorry. But the wards were only down for a moment and the other ingredients, the artefacts required, they're all gone now. No more. They can't be dismantled again. Not by anyone." She said this last part all in a rush, Remus' gaze burning into her, willing her to keep silent about what their break-in had also let into the valley. At least for now. She wondered if Remus was thinking long-term, because once Greyback arrived and Hemming and Lupa realised what they'd unwittingly unleashed…
Hemming focussed his gaze back on the curtain again, hard-faced and stoic, as if trying to contain all emotion. "And you wizards wonder why we never trust you? You blacken the world with your self-importance, your mistakes and treachery and you do it all in the name of the greater good."
Hermione's eyes burned with unshed tears, with guilt. "We only wanted Harry back safely," she murmured wretchedly. "He'd never have let it rest if he thought any of us were in trouble. We just wanted him to be safe…"
Lupa stared at her levelly. "The road to hell is paved with good intentions."
Harry slept for a good few hours after that, as did the cub. If it weren't for the soft sound of breathing filling the room, they might have had cause for concern. Hemming and Lupa remained posted near the cupboard and Hermione came down regularly to see if he had emerged only to be disappointed. Kreacher had sent another fresh nappy and wipes in silently for when the two awoke, but otherwise none of the others returned.
When eventually the baby began to cry again, signalling he was awake, Hermione who had been sitting at the table anxiously crept forwards. Slowly, carefully she slid the curtain back. Hemming and Lupa were watching her but did not stop her. Harry was nursing his son when the curtain was pulled aside enough for her to see. His still gold eyes glowed in the dimness as they stared at her as she inclined her head to the side in an impressive display to show she had been paying attention to Lupa earlier. When Harry did not growl or pounce, she pushed forwards the plate she was holding.
"Please, Harry you need to eat," she whispered, placing the plate of fruit and biscuits near to him along with the cup of tea she had been keeping warm. Harry blinked at her. She sighed. "How can he produce food for the baby if he doesn't eat?" she asked Hemming as she retreated slowly back to her chair by the table, leaving the curtain open so that Harry could watch her. He did not touch the food or tea.
"His body is built for survival. He'll seek food when he is ready," Hemming explained. "Usually the alpha male would bring the food to his mate, but…"
Hermione bit her lip and looked down at the newspaper on the table. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry change the baby and curl up again, but his gold eyes remained on her. He didn't seem threatened, only interested in a wary sort of way. It was encouraging, even if he still hadn't touched the food.
Lifting the muggle paper she began to read aloud some nonsense article about the latest celebrity marriage sham. Though she knew very well he couldn't understand, she knew he was listening. His eyes were still open and he seemed more relaxed, if not still curious. She smiled at him reassuringly and continued to read until she realised he'd fallen back to sleep.
"You should get some sleep, Hermione," Remus said as he pulled the cup of tea she had made him into his hands. It was around twenty-four hours now since they'd brought Harry here and he'd awoken around six times. Since the third, Hermione had barely left the kitchen. Remus looked at the stack of books Hermione had been reading from – muggle novels, he noticed. He had heard her reading to Harry earlier when he'd come down to find her. Kreacher had been sending meals to everyone in the drawing room so as not to disturb 'Master and young master' or so he'd said.
Kreacher seemed very enthused about the new baby actually and had gone on a mad cleaning spree in preparation for when 'Young Master' eventually emerged. Grimmauld Place had not looked so clean in decades.
"He watches me whenever he is awake," Hermione explained, her voice hoarse from tiredness. "I think my reading soothes him. He recognises me a little more each time. I'm sure he'll be back to himself again soon."
Remus sighed. "Ron hasn't seen you in some time," he tried gently.
Hermione bristled. "Well he knows where I am," she snapped. "With our friend who needs our support right now, not our judgement. When he gets his head out of his arse and realises that we are all Harry has right now, I'm sure he will come find us."
"Is that directed at me also?" Remus asked.
Hermione flushed but said nothing.
Harry awoke a few minutes later to change the fussy baby. The baby was awake but not crying yet, the soother in his mouth doing its part to help, it seemed. Using the same technique as before, Hermione knelt in the entrance to the cupboard and swapped the plate of stale food from earlier for a plate of ham sandwiches. She held Harry's gaze for a moment and when he didn't move, she edged closer, throat exposed, carrying a bowl of warm water
"Hermione," Remus murmured warningly, tense where he sat at the table watching. Hemming and Lupa also watched on as always, but did not stop her. Perhaps they thought she knew what she was doing? Harry was letting her sit in the entrance to his den after all. As long as she didn't try and push too far before he gave permission. His head was tilted to one side as he surveyed her. She smiled softly, pushing the bowl of warm water towards him and miming picking up the sponge before gesturing to the baby that was lying in a circle of sheets between Harry's knees.
Harry's lower body was still covered by the cloak thankfully. It made things slightly less awkward to watch when at last he seemed to grasp what she meant. With a soft whine, he divested his son's body of the blanket embroidered with the wolf and started to sponge his body clean. The tiny boy wriggled unhappily, his face scrunching up in displeasure as Harry cleaned him gently. It was much more effective than a tongue bath, even ruled by his instincts he knew that much.
Caressing his little boy's head with it, Harry found himself admiring the rosy pink hue of that skin and the thick dark curls. Yes. Perfect. His mate would be pleased when he came. For he would come. His mate would not abandon him. Would he? Had he been abandoned?
"Harry?" Hermione asked when she saw Harry had frozen. Her voice seemed to bring him back, however. He blinked at her before drying his damp; fussy cub and wrapping him back up in his embroidered blanket that smelled so much of his mate. Harry looked sad all of a sudden and Hermione, having nothing else to do when Harry was asleep had spoken enough with Hemming and Lupa to understand why.
"Greyback – that is…" she hesitated, "your mate is on his way, Harry. He hasn't abandoned you." Her voice was tentative but her words did the trick. Harry seemed to brighten. Hermione smiled uncertainly at him. She didn't know what had happened over the last few months or how it had come to this, but she knew what atrocities newly whelped werewolves sometimes committed on instinct when they thought their mate or pack had abandoned them. Hemming and Lupa had told her and she'd consulted the Black library upstairs to be sure.
The mothers had been known to hurt or kill their cubs in a fit of instinct-driven madness, then kill themselves once they realised what they'd done. Unsurprisingly, that part hadn't been 'censored' by the ministry. But Harry, as ever, was different. He was making do with only the presence of two of his pack mates. He was fighting his instincts, following his heart that was obviously so full of the little infant in front of him.
Harry adored him, Hermione could see that and if he felt abandoned he might instinctually hurt his son or himself. Hermione couldn't let Harry do that. If it meant being the only one in this house that supported Harry and Greyback then she would do it, even if it did freak her out to see Harry comforted by Greyback's name.
"He's so beautiful, Harry," she said, gesturing to the baby who was now suckling happily on his dummy, blinking up at Harry with huge unnaturally green eyes. "Your mate will be so happy when he sees how well you've taken care of him." It made Harry smile for the first time since she had found him. It was unnerving but reassuring that he seemed to be understanding her words more and more. Slowly lifting the sponge herself now, Hermione reached forwards – gradually so that Harry had time to see what she was doing. He froze. "You'll get an infection if you don't clean yourself," Hermione said and when that got no reaction, she added, "you want to look and smell good for your mate when he arrives, don't you?"
Harry blinked at that, then lifted his chin in acceptance, keeping his eyes on her at all times as she dabbed his face, neck, underarms and arms clean. A spell would've been better but werewolves were wary of human magic and besides, the water had natural magical properties that would do all they needed.
"Don't touch the baby," Lupa warned her from outside the cupboard. "You've been down here for so long you smell and act like pack but he won't let you touch the cub. He'll kill you if you try."
Hermione flushed. She hadn't even looked at the baby and had no intention of pushing Harry that far. She wasn't stupid. "I know," she said, jumping when a low hiss left Harry's lips as she touched his chest with the sponge. "Sorry," she said, "is it sensitive? You do the rest, Harry."
She flushed darkly and edged back out of the den to take refuge at the table when Harry began to wash the rest of himself. She had no desire to see the rest of him that close; although it was good he was taking care of himself as well as the cub. New mothers forgot sometimes and needed reminding from their mate.
Harry still did not touch the food or the tea, she noticed. When he finished cleaning and drying himself he merely pushed the bowl, sponge and towels out into the kitchen and curled up under the duvets and fur cloak to feed his cub. He whined softly at his boy and Hermione couldn't help but smile again. Remus, however, who had now appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, looked less than pleased.
"What happened to Harry while he was with Greyback?" he asked, voice dangerously calm. "Why is he like this? And I don't just mean this odd 'instinctual' behaviour. I mean why did he become Greyback's…? What did Greyback do to get Harry as his mate? To get him to join him under the moon in that way – the way he would need to, to make the child. I can't imagine Harry willingly going along with any of it."
At his insinuation, Hermione gasped. Remus gave her a look that clearly said he was displeased with her earlier words with Harry about Greyback. Then he fixed his accusing gaze on Hemming and Lupa.
"He has endured a great deal without you the last few months. He was tortured for days by Him for circe's sake. He's changed," Hemming said stiffly. "As we've been stuck here trying to help you ungrateful humans, we aren't privy to the ins and outs but Harry is. He can explain all to you when he recovers himself."
"If he wants to, that is," Lupa added, much to Remus' irritation. "If I awoke from a very traumatic experience I would hope my so-called friends would offer me support. Not judge me on things they cannot hope to understand."
Catching Harry's eye across the room, Hermione couldn't help but notice he seemed to be watching them all with tension. With a sigh, she flipped open the Daily Prophet and began to read aloud to him once more. Everyone else in the room seemed to understand the meaning of her actions and feel silent. Remus disappeared from the room again and after some time Harry drifted off, listening to Hermione's voice.
It was very quiet. There was warmth and comforting dimness all around him. The world was blurry despite his glasses being on his face. Blinking back sleep a few times, Harry brought the world into focus. He was wrapped up in a nest of duvets with the familiar fur cloak over him like a blanket. He was in an oversized cupboard. The door to the cupboard and the curtain stood open so that he could see out into the familiar kitchen, illuminated softly by a set of floating candles over the long table and a softly crackling fire.
This was Grimmauld Place. Why was he here? Where where Fenrir, Ghost, Echo and Malfoy? He blinked again and he saw a familiar person reading quietly at the table. He frowned. "Hermione?" He watched her jump at the sudden sound of his voice, raspy from disuse in the quiet.
She saw him. Saw his eyes shining green in the candlelight and she knew he was back. "Harry?" she gasped, dropping the volume with such carelessness as Harry had never seen her use with books. "Harry!" She flew to her feet but before she could reach him, a sharp cry erupted from the nest. Harry looked down and remembered all.
His eyes grew wide. Holy fuck. His son. He had a son now. Unconsciously he ran his palm over his already flat stomach. It was tender but flat. Shit. It all came flooding back, the battle, the birth, the rescue…
Oh no. Ron, Hermione, Remus, Tonks – Snape, they had seen him… Oh God.
"Oh God," he gasped, falling back against the wall as he stared down at his tiny wriggling baby that was crying pathetically. His son. He had never been so thrilled and yet terrified at the same time. Mostly terrified.
"Harry," Hermione's soft voice said. She was kneeling in the doorway of the cupboard and looking at him sympathetically. Where was everyone else? He could see someone he recognised as Hemming sitting outside the cupboard but there was no sign of anyone else. And he could not help but notice he was grateful that neither had tried to touch his baby. His baby. That sounded so peculiar. Dreamlike.
"Harry, it's alright. You remember it all, don't you? This is your son."
Harry swallowed, moistening his dry lips as he stared. It had been easier with his instincts in control, without his human insecurities and concerns to cloud his mind. But it, he, the baby was crying. What was Harry meant to do? What did it want? Where was Fenrir? Hadn't he realised he was missing yet? Wasn't he supposed to be here getting Hermione and Ron?
"Where's Fenrir?" he asked. Hermione looked shocked at his use of the wolf's first name and Harry wondered just what had been happening over the last few months. Did Hermione and the others not know anything? Did he want them to? He needed to know what was going on.
"Alpha was here," Hemming answered cautiously. "They wouldn't even let him in the wards off of the street. He was trying to get in, to convince your humans that they had to come with him – to you. We were all trying. When he realised that Weasley was stalling us so that Hermione and Lupin could go and 'rescue' you, he left to try and stop it. My guess is he is making his way back here now he realises you're gone."
Harry blinked a few times as he processed this but as he opened his lips to speak, to ask what was taking Fenrir so long, to ask if Hemming knew what had happened to the pack the tiny infant squalled as loud as his lungs allowed. On instinct Harry reached out and pulled the boy to his chest. It was only as the cries dimmed at his closeness, as he was tucking the embroidered swaddling cloth around that vulnerable pink skin that he realised what he was doing and froze. Time froze along with him.
He didn't know how long he sat there for but it was long enough for Hermione to shift uncomfortably. "It's alright, Harry," she said gently. "It doesn't change how we feel about you. You have a baby–"
"With Fenrir Greyback," he all-but gasped. "How can Remus, Bill, any of them…? He isn't what we all thought, Hermione. He's different, he's–"
"Sssh," she said soothingly, looking as if she wanted to hug him but didn't dare. He was grateful for it. He didn't want her to touch him, not anyone. Not yet.
"Harry it's ok. You can take all the time in the world to talk about this. We know you've been through a lot. You don't have to justify yourself. All this hasn't changed how we feel about you."
"How can it not have? I've changed, Hermione I've…I've given birth for goodness sake! I'm not even a man anymore by biological standards!"
Hermione frowned. "Funny because when you were flashing everyone in the struggle when we brought you here you looked pretty male to me." They both flushed darkly. The sheer embarrassing fact that she'd seen him naked, that under the cloak he was still naked made his panic and desperation to justify himself calm a little. Bloody hell, he wished Fenrir was here. He knew he'd only make the situation worse with his temper but Harry wanted him regardless. Not just because of the cub either.
At that moment, the little boy in his arms made an unhappy gurgle and Harry laid him down to check his nappy. Nothing. He frowned. "This was easier when I was running on instincts. I sort of just knew what he wanted. Now I just have to guess."
Hermione smiled affectionately. "You'll learn like all the other parents do. He is beautiful Harry. So tiny."
"Thanks," he said with an awkward blush, thankful and proud all the same. "He's perfect. Can't believe Fenrir and me made this." He felt the weight lifted from his shoulders when Hermione laughed. He still knew his feelings, his decisions would be challenged (by Ron and Remus in particular) but it helped that she at least seemed more concerned with making him feel at ease.
Purposefully avoiding her eyes, he pulled the fussy baby to his chest. He winced as that voracious mouth latched onto a sore nipple. "Little glutton," he grumbled affectionately, feeling sick with embarrassment – although he had a feeling his instincts were still helping to mellow him out. He wasn't running screaming for the hills at least. "Merlin, this is so bloody weird, Hermione." He risked a glance at her then.
"Wizards can do all this too with the aid of magic and potions, you realise? I started looking it up when you first got here. It's unusual but you're not a freak, Harry." She studied him for a moment. "If I'm honest, the others will have a harder time digesting that it's Greyback you're with rather than the fact that you have a son. I'm expecting he'll be here any time now."
Harry glanced over her shoulder to where Hemming was watching carefully. He'd only seen the man a few times but he knew who he was and how he had scarcely moved from his post since he'd arrived here. When the man caught him looking, he nodded his head respectfully in acknowledgement.
"You've given my alpha a very healthy, strong son, Alpha Numero. He will be very happy," Hemming said.
Harry nodded. It was awkward with them both watching him while a baby suckled him. He still felt he should hide, both because of the call of his instincts and his mortification. Looking down at his son, he watched that little mouth work hungrily, as if he were starving. Forgetting his audience at the sight of such a wonder, Harry smoothed his fingertips across the baby's brow and watched it furrow. He did not stop eating, but two huge green eyes flickered open and looked up at him. Vivid emerald green.
When the baby finished, he began to fuss anew, leaving Harry at a loss for what to do until Hermione handed him the dummy that had fallen out of the tot's mouth earlier. "Thanks," he said sheepishly, unable to believe he'd forgotten it. As soon as he popped it in the baby's mouth he calmed, sucking and staring up at him quietly. Harry couldn't help himself, he gave a hesitant, overwhelmed smile. "He's looking at me like he knows me," he said.
"Of course he knows you," Hemming said. "He can sense you. He's young but his instincts will be bound to yours. Your bond is strong – it means a healthy cub."
"He clearly loves you, Harry," Hermione assured him. She paused then. "Why don't you come out into the kitchen and have some tea and something to eat?"
Harry thought for a moment. His instincts were pleading to the negative but he didn't want to let them rule him. He had relished surrendering to them back in the valley with the pack, but he was human too and he didn't want to lose that part of himself. With a nod, he set the baby down briefly in the nest of blankets and waited for Hermione to back out of the way so he could discreetly pull on the loose cotton jogging bottoms that had been left just inside the cupboard door (by Kreacher no doubt, as he didn't remember anyone physically setting them down there).
With the surprisingly soft, lightweight trousers on and Fenrir's cloak wrapped around his shoulders, he held his son close to his chest again and edged slowly out of the cupboard. His limbs resisted, screamed with the wrongness of it all but he gritted his teeth and pushed forward until he was sat in a chair at the table, his son in the crook of one arm. Hermione beamed at him, pushing a cup of sweat, milky tea towards him before busying herself with some toast.
Hemming took a seat next to Harry, pausing with his hand on the chair to give Harry chance to refuse before he did so. "Most cannot bear to leave the den for a few days after the birth," Hemming said, watching him in a mixture of curiosity and awe. "Nor do they usually let any but their mate or bloodlines so close. Not this soon. I am surprised."
Harry blinked, shifting his son into the arm furthest away from Hermione and Hemming without thinking. "Because I let you and Hermione close?"
Hemming smiled. "Because you are so in control of your instincts – even at a time when they should still have full hold on you. You resist them to please your friends."
"I resist because I don't want to lose who I was just because what I was has changed," Harry explained, his voice still soft and weak from under-use. He brushed the backs of his knuckles over his son's dark locks. Very thick for a newborn, he thought – not that he knew much about babies.
"The wolf and you are one in the same," Hemming said gently.
"Only because I make it so," Harry replied. Hemming nodded, proud and pleased of his answer, it seemed. At this point, Hermione pushed a plate of buttered toast and custard cream biscuits toward him, smiling happily as she sat next to Hemming – giving Harry his space. She had been studying him to make this easier for him. That alone was enough to make Harry devour the toast and biscuits to the last crumb.
He also drank all of the tea, the warm sweetness a relief to his dry throat and though it was a tad awkward to do with the baby, neither asked to hold him. He was glad. He didn't think he could push his instincts to let him go – didn't want to regardless.
This tiny, precious life was his, the only thing that ever had been. His only blood family and so dependant on him for everything. The only thing that loved him without preamble. His baby. It was still weird to think the words but it didn't stop happiness from warming his insides – as well as a little sick, light-headed feeling course. The feeling relaxed his still weary, sore body and allowed him to calmly finish his tea before he turned to Hemming.
"What's been going on here since you and Lupa arrived?" he began. There was no sense in asking about the pack or the battle, Hemming would know nothing about it. He would save those questions for Fenrir when he arrived. If he arrived. His insides clenched at the thought.
What if the pack were…?
And Fenrir had rushed back to him only to find…
The toast and biscuits suddenly felt heavy in his belly.
"They've been helping us to get the horcruxes," Hermione explained simply. But she waited then, leaving it to Hemming to divulge the events of the last few months.
Hemming regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, before speaking. Harry hadn't spent a great deal of time with him before he and Lupa had headed off to help Hermione and the others. They didn't know each other that well but at the same time, they'd protected him when he'd needed them most, when he'd been at his most vulnerable. It made him slightly more at ease with them.
"We tracked their scent here and obviously we couldn't get in," Hemming explained simply. "We couldn't even see the house. We had to just sit it out." He glanced to Hermione then, who was carefully avoiding his eye as he continued. "We sent a Patronus to them with a message, saying we'd come about you. Of course they'd heard Alpha had you but they assumed in the capacity of a prisoner, so out they came to meet us, setting up the privacy spells so the muggles couldn't see."
Harry nodded. He imagined the meeting hadn't gone as placidly as that but he appreciated Hemming's diplomacy.
"It took some time to get them to believe us," Hemming continued, "In the end, we had to let your witch friend here use legilimency on us to see that we were telling the truth." He inclined his head to Hermione with a respectful smile.
Harry glanced to Hermione. She was brilliant, the best of their age, probably beyond that but he hadn't known she could do that kind of magic. She must've read his thoughts for she blushed slightly under his gaze.
"They wouldn't allow Professor Snape or Remus near them with a wand," she explained. "I've been reading up on it regardless and, well when it seemed we were at a stalemate, I suggested the idea. Professor Snape gave me some pointers. It wasn't perfect but I could see enough to know they were telling the truth."
Harry frowned. "But werewolves hate wizard magic."
"Such is the devotion to our Alpha and Alpha Numero," Hemming said, smiling, reminding Harry of the warmness of the family unit he'd been taken away from. Something inside him ached unpleasantly. He hoped they were all alright. The chaos they'd been in the last time he'd seen them made him feel sick to contemplate.
"So they let you in. What have you been doing all this time?" he asked.
"They let us put them under the Secrecy Vow," Hermione said, sipping her own tea now. "It's a lot like the Fidelius, except they can't speak to anyone about the Horcruxes or anything else we agree in the spell. They can only speak about it to people we specify. So they've been helping us. We've got them all now, Harry. They're all gone. Only the Snake left to go."
"I killed the Snake," he said softly, voice far-off, thoughtful, "Fenrir took me to Targaletum and I…I sort of flipped and killed the Snake. It's gone."
Hermione's expression changed three times in the space of three minutes. First, discomfiture at the sound of Harry using Fenrir's given name, then confusion at the word Targaletum and then shocked relief – the last horcrux was gone. "Oh, goodness, Harry! It's gone? It really has gone? We're nearly…it's nearly over!"
Harry nodded. He felt the same emotions but was numb with it. As if he dare not believe it until there was physical proof. He listened to Hermione explain how they'd got the diadem, thanks to Snape, used the basilisk fang to destroy the horcruxes they'd found and it wasn't until she finished explaining that he realised why he felt so hollow at the knowledge of something that should have given him such hope. This meant that he had to kill Voldemort, had to face him again and try and kill him – he was terrified. He felt cold at the thought of leaving his new son to face that man again. He wasn't sure he could do it.
Hermione and Hemming were both watching him as if his thoughts were written all over his face.
"Oh, Harry," she said softly, reaching out slowly, hesitantly to pet his hand. She didn't move to touch the baby and so he didn't flinch. He watched her hand stroke his reassuringly on the table and relished in the comfort of it in spite of whatever his instincts felt about it. "It's ok to be afraid," she assured him.
Harry winced at the accusation. "I'm not," he insisted, even as his tightening chest disagreed with him. He glanced down at his son, who was blinking up at him contently, sucking voraciously on his dummy. "I just…things are different now, with him."
Hermione's eyes were glassy with understanding. Harry blinked at her. He appreciated her understanding but he didn't want her pity. It was the simple truth that, while of course he'd always been afraid, now he was faced with the fact that he might leave his child behind, just as his parents had with him.
"Things are different with you, too," Hermione said gently. "What is Targaletum?"
Perhaps only Hermione would realise the significance of his answer. "It's what we call...Him. You know," he knew better than to say the name. But she nodded her understanding.
"We?"
"The pack," he said.
It was a long while before she spoke again, fingering the handle of her mug nervously. "Harry, you have to understand. Hemming and Lupa had been helping us for weeks, months even and we started to realise that every time we mentioned going to see you, speaking to you, they came up with an excuse for why we couldn't. We began to…distrust them. So Remus, Tonks, Ron and I, we made the plan to come see you, to rescue you."
She looked at him then, perhaps reliving the horror of the battle that had been waging as they'd 'rescued' Harry from the pack. They were partly responsible for that bloodshed, for they had been the ones to let the wards down, no matter how unintentional it was. Hermione must have known that. He could see the haunted look in her eyes.
"But the night we were setting out, Fenrir Greyback started prowling our doorstep – Harry we panicked!" she gasped. "The plan had been to wait for Professor Snape, but he hadn't come and when Greyback came we… Harry we had to go, we couldn't risk Hemming and Lupa figuring out what we were about to do and so Ron let them outside to distract Greyback while Remus and I left.
"When we saw the chaos, when we saw you lying there with a corpse beside you – all feral and unable to recognise us…" She blinked tearfully at him, her hand clasping his tightly. "We didn't know until afterwards what was happening there, even Lupa and Hemming didn't know you were pregnant. I'm so sorry, Harry, we didn't know what danger we'd be putting you in – putting you both in."
I should have contacted them myself, Harry thought wretchedly. Self-loathing and guilt lanced him like a spear through his chest. I should've known. I should've asked Fenrir to go get them earlier – I should have asked Fenrir to come take me to them! I hid away. I hid like a coward only worried about myself and then they came, they let the others in because of my stupidity and now everyone is…
Turning his hand over, Harry grasped hers back firmly and gave her a weary, forced smile. "It's alright, you didn't know," he said dully, reeking of self-deprecation. He hated it when she cried. Brave, strong, clever Hermione. It didn't sit well with him. And besides whose fault was this really? Hers for being worried about him? Or his, for thinking his friends would accept a stranger's assurance that he was fine again and again without a word from him?
"What's done is done. Don't be upset. I should've realised you'd be worried. I didn't even think I just... I had a lot to think about over the last few months. A lot has changed, with me, I mean. A lot has happened." He glanced out to the back door. The way the house was built meant that while the front door from the street was on the ground floor, the basement kitchen lead out onto the garden at a lower level. He could just about see a slither of moonlight through the window. It felt unnatural, being this far away from it. He wanted to go out into it. Grimmauld Place was more suffocating than ever.
It was his fault. Whatever had happened to the people he cared about back at the valley, it was on his head. Maybe the rogues had disbanded after Conall, their ringleader had been killed – killed by him. As a wolf. The memory of the taste of his blood, of his transformation made a frisson of fear ripple through him. They could never know, none of them. He couldn't bear for them to cringe away from him as they surely would.
"You miss him," Hemming said suddenly, quietly.
Harry's head snapped back to him at those words. He flushed slightly.
Slowly, Hermione retrieved her hand. "Harry, what exactly happened to you with Greyback?" she worried her lip between her teeth. "I'm guessing our assumption he'd all-but kidnapped you is wrong, judging by the fact that you're in one piece but… Harry, I don't mean to sound judging, but what happened to make you…you know, with Fenrir Greyback?"
Harry flinched. This was it, the moment he had been dreading for months. Having to explain himself, justify himself and what he'd done with Fenrir. Fenrir had once told him he didn't have to explain himself to anyone, but if he wanted Hermione and the others to understand, he would have to.
Sighing heavily, he glanced about the kitchen and saw the tea towel sitting on the clean pile of washing across the room. With a furrowed brow, he flicked his free hand and the cloth zoomed towards them and as it did so, transfigured itself into a basic sling that he pulled around his shoulder. His son whimpered unhappily about being moved into it but settled quickly snuggled with his face against Harry's chest, his blanket still round him for warmth inside the makeshift carrier.
With a wince, Harry rolled his shoulder. It ached from holding the baby in one position for so long, which was a surprise given how tiny he was. When he turned his attention back to Hermione, however, she was wide-eyed with shock.
"A lot has changed indeed," she gasped. "Harry, that was…that was wandless magic. Incredible wandless magic. Effortless. What has Greyback been teaching you? What's been happening since he took you from Him?"
Harry thought of the magic he'd used on the battlefield against Conall and the others, the power he'd felt rushing through him. It was coming so easily to him now. Awe and trepidation swelled in his throat.
"He saved me, Hermione," Harry said firmly. "Though I didn't realise it at the time. For a long while it felt just as much like a prison as Malfoy Manor but…well, things changed." It was hard to remember how fervently he had hated Fenrir, the valley and everything they stood for. How he had called it a prison. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
"What changed it?" she asked. Hemming was silently watching the exchange, evidently as interested in Harry's answer as Hermione.
Harry looked down at his son, who bore such a stern little expression on his face that could have only been Fenrir's. He carded his fingers through the infant's thick curls of dark hair, certain that he felt the baby sniffing him eagerly, as if the scent comforted him. He tucked the baby's head under his chin and rubbed his back in slow instinctual motions as he spoke.
"I realised we were wrong about him, Fenrir, about all of them." He looked to Hermione, pleading with her to understand. "They're no more monsters than Remus or Bill. They accept what they are but they aren't bloodthirsty beasts. And Merlin, Hermione if you only knew what they'd suffered…"
In low, tired tones he explained to her what had happened to Fenrir's pack long ago (omitting any personal details to Fenrir), told her about their persecution, about how Fenrir had sensed what he was when he'd smelt his blood. He explained how they planned to lure Voldemort into a false sense of security, letting him believe he, Harry had been enslaved by Fenrir. How Fenrir's desire to take things slow had been dashed when they'd accidentally encountered the humans and Harry had unwittingly enticed Fenrir's wolf to…
He had gone quiet for a moment at that. It was still painful to think about, but he didn't blame Fenrir or himself. Sometimes things happened that people couldn't control, could only accept and deal with as best they could; he was beginning to understand it now.
He told her about the months that followed, about going to Voldemort, about the pack, about saving Malfoy, about the werewolf magic. Everything. Or he thought he had, until as he finished, movement in the doorway drew his eyes upwards and he saw Remus, Tonks and Ron stepping into the kitchen.
"Sounds like a reasonable story, mate," Ron said, his voice distant but not unkind, as if he were talking to someone mentally unstable. "But it sounds to us like Greyback's wolf forced itself on you like an animal. Or are you telling us you've fallen in love with him or something?" The latter was almost a derisive grimace. It made Harry's back straighten a little in irritation.
"It wasn't Fenrir's fault," Harry began, but Remus cut him off as they all reached the table. Ron and Tonks were staring uncertainly at him but Remus, he was looking from him to his son in confused anger.
"That sounds exactly like something a victim would say. Stockholm syndrome, the muggles call it," Remus said, resting his arms on the table wearily. "Harry, it's alright to admit what happened."
Harry stiffened. "I'm not an idiot, I know the situation was far from ideal, but we made the best of it – he made the best of it, despite his faults." He didn't like the way Remus' eyes kept drifting down to rest on his son, as if he was the cause of all this. He fought back the urge to growl and pulled the blanket the baby was swaddled in up inside the sling a little more to further comfort and shield him from those judging eyes. He loved Remus and the man's heart was in the right place, but he didn't understand what had happened the last few months.
"Harry, you're still so young–"
Setting his jaw, Harry glared defiantly at him. "But I'm old enough to face Him and hunt horcruxes? Old enough to fight off a hundred demontors at once, old enough to head our side of the war?" Harry argued, not caring how bitter he sounded. He knew none of that was Remus' fault per se, but he was still treating him like a child in spite of that. Fenrir had never treated him like a child, that had been one of the things that he appreciated most about his life with him.
Remus leant back off the table, flinching as if slapped.
"You think you know him but none of you do," Harry said firmly, "What we knew about him was all wrong." He looked to Hemming for support and saw that Lupa had snuck back in as well and had come to stand at his side. She seemed very maternal towards him, a lot like Amoux and he wondered just who she had lost to wizarding kind all those years ago. "You obviously all heard that I told Hermione," he continued. "Bill was an accident in the crossfire, Remus, you were a misunderstanding – he isn't evil–"
"But he's not good either, Harry," Ron said pleadingly, "you have to see that."
Harry frowned. "He's as good a person as me, if a little bad-tempered." He paused for a moment, wondering how to make them understand. "He's…good to me." He cringed at how that sounded but it was all he could think to say.
"You're not his bitch," Ron snapped, "not his bloody kept woman!"
"Look, technically, if you want to simplify it, I am his bitch – and chose to be! When I had my first full moon I chose him."
"You were not in your right mind, Harry," Remus began.
Harry cut him off. "The wolf is only our base desires and instincts," he said. "The need for food, for safety, for comfort. I wanted him, on a subconscious level before I even realised it myself and I chose him. It's just taken the rest of me a while to catch up. He didn't force himself on me, I chose him." He stared meaningfully at Remus. "Your wolf, and all the other wolves like you, they're sad and angry because you are. Because you don't accept–"
"Accept my curse?" Remus growled. "Don't embrace it the way Greyback and these murderers do?" He gestured with distaste to Hemming and Lupa. "Because that's what they are, Harry, murderers. They steal people's lives and now they've stolen yours by turning you, awakening something in you that would've been better left dormant."
"I thought so too, to start with, but they aren't like that, Remus. They fight because they have to, just like we do. They're no more murderers than you or me," Harry said with a finality that couldn't be argued with. "Look," he said through gritted teeth. "I trust him, he has more than earned that trust and I think you should trust my judgement."
"We wish we could, mate," Ron said sadly. "Merlin knows, I should've trusted you loads of times before and I didn't but this isn't the same. You've been held there against your will for months, in an environment completely wild and savage. You're not yourself." Ron looked imploringly to him. "You've got all kinds of werewolf hormones and stuff running through you." He was looking uncertainly at the bundle strapped to Harry's chest, not with aversion, more confusion, as if he truly couldn't think of how it had gotten there. Remus, Harry noted, was still considering his son with almost revulsion. It hurt. Remus was all he had left of his father, after all.
"Fenrir came to you to bring you to me," Harry said through gritted teeth after a long silence. "I would've come myself but," he looked down at his son's head of thick dark hair. There were auburn and copper flecks in the light, he thought, from his mother? "I was about to drop," he said, trying for amusement but only Hermione, Hemming and Lupa smiled softly at his words. Ron looked almost ill, Remus enraged.
"He's not my lapdog but he's not a gaoler either. We're equals. They call me the Alpha Numero," he gestured to Hemming and Lupa, staring straight into Remus' eyes, "Surely you know what that means? I'm not a captive or toy to be broken and then tossed away. You know their hierarchy and you know their traditions. You know Fenrir and his pack follow their traditions even if you don't agree with them. I'm precious to them, they say I'm a gift. They have never hurt me, in fact I've never felt as safe as I did back there and you took me away from them when I needed them most!" He glared at Remus, frustrated as he realised the man wasn't understanding.
"I appreciate you were worried, you can't help what you did but you can help wilfully misunderstanding me now," Harry said sharply. His baby boy fussed, pawing at his chest. Harry rubbed his back gently, distractedly, but did not tear his eyes from Remus. "I feel more like a prisoner here with you than I ever did out there. Out there I was free, free from all the shit I've had pinned on me from the moment my parents died. Here I'm just being judged and suffocated."
Remus' eyes glistened softly at that and Ron looked shocked and chastened. He dropped into the chair next to Hermione, as if silently showing his support but Remus did not budge.
Harry continued. "If I were to try and walk out of this door right now, would you let me go?" Harry asked softly.
Remus froze. "Harry," he began brokenly, "Harry, you're all I… I promised Sirius if anything happened… I promised James and Lily. I can't let you go back there, it's bad enough you're suffering the same disease as me. You deserve better. You deserve… Harry I can't give up on you. You never would have chosen this, I know you wouldn't."
"Maybe not before, but a lot has happened since last you saw me," Harry said tiredly, sadly. He knew Remus meant well but the man's hatred of his own werewolf curse rendered him unable to understand what Harry was saying. "If you won't let me go, then you'd better hope Fenrir gets here soon. For all our sakes. You Know Who can't touch my mind with Fenrir near me, if he were to reach into me now my thoughts would be ripe for the picking."
"That," Hemming said softly, "and being apart from him so soon after you've birthed are equally worrying. You must understand, it's unnatural for you to be so coherent and in control. It's a tribute to how strong your character is that you are. It takes days before most wolves can utter coherent words. But you could still regress, you could still do something unforgiveable if your wolf thinks you've been abandoned."
Harry stared at him. "You think if I feel abandoned I might hurt myself or even the baby."
Remus looked between him and the baby again. "Perhaps it would be wise to give him to Kreacher for safekeeping until this is resolved? It might even help you, Harry to remember who you were before–"
"If you try and take him from me I'll rip out your throat," he said dangerously, his voice low and so unlike him that Hermione and Ron shifted in their seats, clearly afraid. Harry blinked as if coming back to himself. "I'm sorry," he said to his friends. "Wolf thing, I think. It's all new to me as well. Since The Hunt killed the others like me, the only things that are known are what people like Fenrir and Ulric remember." His chest tightened painfully at the mention of Ulric, of how the old man had sacrificed himself to a bloody, gruesome death to save Harry. He looked down at his son and thought he would have to make sure he knew all about the man who'd saved their lives.
"I am not your enemy, Harry," Remus said softly, pushing away from the table and heading for the stairs, "But I cannot let you become a victim to your own good nature, to your own tendency to see the best in people." Before Harry could say a word, Remus disappeared up the stairs. Tonks, who had remained silent during the exchange, gave him a tight smile before following after her husband.
Briefly, Harry wondered where the baby was. Tonks had been due to have the baby in April, just before he was captured. She definitely wasn't pregnant now. He swallowed, hard. Had it all gone alright? Was the baby ok? Had it inherited lycanthropy? Was it in the house somewhere? Was it…?
"She had a baby boy, Harry," Hermione said gently, evidently realising why he had stared at the doorway Tonks and Remus had vanished through. "Edward Remus Lupin – Teddy, after his grandfather. He isn't a werewolf. He's a metamorphmagus like his mum." She smiled thoughtfully. Harry immediately relaxed.
"He's upstairs asleep – sleeps well through the night now," Hermione said, seemingly pleased to have a topic, any topic to evade the silence that threatened to fall. "Remus and Tonks live here at the moment. Andromeda stops by too but she…she is handling her husband's death badly and finds it difficult to deal with…"
"With Snape," Ron said sharply, his mouth a thin line. "She blames him, can't bear to look at him and he's here a lot."
Harry frowned. His stomach clenched with unease. "Snape was here – I…I heard him. I saw him." He'd heard them mention him earlier but it only really seemed to click into place now. Snape had been communicating with them. He'd been standing in this very room, not ten feet from him! Snape!
Hermione's eyes widened with panic. "No. No Harry, it's alright he's… He isn't what we thought he was."
"He killed Dumbledore," he growled through clenched teeth. "Why has he been in my house? Sirius' house?"
Hermione quickly explained all, everything, the truth about Snape and Dumbledore's 'arrangement' for him to die. The truth about Snape's loyalty. "We gave him veritaserum. It's the truth, Harry."
Harry didn't know what to say to that and for a long time, nor did anyone else. He stared thoughtfully at his den from where he sat, longing for it, for the simplicity it offered him. He wanted to just curl up in there and wait for everything to stop. His instincts scratched at his throat, clawing for control. He should be in there right now, he should be isolated from everyone else until he was ready, recovered. Until his mate was here.
Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to look away. He would not hide in the cupboard like a child. He could not. He was done hiding.
Ron poured himself a cup of tea. "Mate, can I just ask," he began hesitantly, as if he didn't really want to know the answer, "If there was no You Know Who, would you have come back to us?"
"If there were no You Know Who and no need to go back to Fenrir Greyback for health reasons," Hermione added, before Harry could answer Ron's question, "would you go back to them rather than stay here with us? Harry," she touched his arm gently, "Harry, do you love him?"
Silence again. Harry looked down into the tiny, sleepy little face against his sternum. Those green eyes like his were blinking tiredly. He'd thought all babies had blue eyes? Maybe wizarding children were different, maybe werewolves were different – he didn't really have anyone to ask.
The slightest movement made him glance up. He was sensitive to the smallest action now, his senses on high alert for danger to his newborn. He saw Ron watching him, shifting uncomfortably and gave him a small smile. It was so ordinary. As ever, his best mate was awkward and unsure of how to react for the best, so different to Hermione, who carried such determination to calculate the best course of action then plough ahead. He loved them both more than anything else in the life he'd left behind.
"Whatever I decided, I wouldn't have left you in the lurch, wondering what had happened to me," he said quietly, "I should've realised you'd be worried. I'm sorry, really I am. So much has happened."
"We can see that, mate," Ron said gently, still uncertain of what to say. He kept looking at the baby as if he might explode at any minute. Harry couldn't bear it, his own best friend looking so lost for how to approach him.
"Come over here," Harry sighed. Hemming shifted out of his chair between Hermione and Harry and moved to stand beside Lupa, obviously knowing what he was about to do. Ron, however, hesitated before rising to his feet but eventually made his way around the table to take the seat that Hemming had vacated. When he did sit, he was tense and on the edge of his chair.
Harry frowned. "I'm not going to bite you," he snapped tersely. "But don't touch him, or me too quickly," he added. "Don't touch him at all unless I say so." He didn't think he could stand it, just the thought of them near his vulnerable cub was enough to set his teeth on edge, for someone else to touch him was out of the question.
Ron blinked at his harsh tone. "I don't have to sit here at all if you don't want," he retorted hotly, ears going red.
"It's his instincts, ginger," Hemming interjected, "he can't help it. Didn't you hear me? It's a miracle he's out of his den and talking to you – you should be honoured that your friend is so determined to introduce you to his cub that he can set aside the instincts raging inside him that insist he flee from you."
Ron met Harry's eyes then thoughtfully. His lips parted soundlessly, stuttering over the right thing to say and Harry shook his head, taking pity on him. "I think of them as pack, too," he said to Hemming, suspecting that was the only way he could phrase it so that Hemming would understand.
Harry leant back so that his two best friends' view of his cub was unhindered. The little pink face was resting against his chest, those cheeks moving gently as he sucked his dummy and those eyes were looking out at the other two without really seeing them. The silence that followed was a completely different kind. Hermione leaned forward slowly, subtly to get a better look while Ron was frozen in place, eyes fixed on the tiny person.
"Aren't babies eyes meant to be blue?" Ron murmured at last, his voice quiet but tinged with awe. Harry smiled. He was taking an interest at least, that was positive.
"Eye colour depends on a protein called melanin, it's produced by cells in our body called melanocyte," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "Melanocytes respond to light. If they only secrete a little melanin, babies have blue eyes, if they secrete a bit more, their eyes will look green or hazel. I read that as born werewolf babies develop fast in their first few months to catch up to the size and robustness of a human baby their age. So along with everything else, the melanin production after birth is accelerated. It's quite normal for their eyes to change colour far quicker than a human baby's might."
In a motion that echoed their adolescent years together, Ron and Harry stared at Hermione, awed and dumbfounded by the expanse of her knowledge, not for the first or last time. "You really do know everything, don't you, Hermione?" Ron murmured, still looking at those green eyes, so big in that tiny face.
Hermione sat up a fraction straighter and patted the pile of books. On top of the muggle novels was a tattered, ancient tome called: Supernatural Beings, Beasts and their Young. "I was reading it to Harry, though I don't think he could understand me at the time." Both she and Harry flushed, the latter shifting the baby in against his chest once more. He could feel a little trickle of spittle leak out against his chest from where his son was sucking the dummy so ferociously but didn't mind. He could feel how content he was at that moment and that was enough.
After some time of acclimatising himself to his best friends being so close to the cub, he steeled himself against the desire to hide away and reached out one of his own hands. Hermione blinked, surprised, seeming to know what he was about to do. "Stay perfectly still," Harry said warningly, taking Hermione's hand and bringing one of her fingers to brush slowly over the baby's chubby cheek. He was in control of her hand, could push it away at any moment if he felt his instincts roar in negation too loudly. He could manage it at the moment and the sight of wet emotion twinkling in Hermione's eyes made it a fraction easier.
"Oh, Harry," she breathed. "He is so beautiful. He loves you so much."
Harry felt something in his chest tighten. He was afraid of what was to come, of what kind of parent he would be and if he would survive so that he could be a parent. He was haunted by the thought of what might've become of the pack, the guilt he felt, felt lost wondering where Fenrir was but Hermione's words made him giddily happy. Unconditional, selfless, thoughtless love. Family. He had it, even if it wasn't how he always imagined it might be.
Silence reigned for some time. Ron's hand crept forward slowly to brush alongside Hermione's. Harry tensed but managed it. He was in control now, he was in charge not the instincts pounding in his veins. He was still Harry Potter. He wouldn't let anything change that.
"Aren't you scared you'll hurt him?" Ron asked, "he's so small!"
Harry smirked nervously. "When I was all feral, I knew how to hold him, how to take care of him without thinking," he explained, "it doesn't come as naturally now. I wish Fenrir were here, we were meant to do this together. He promised we would." He only realised what he'd said when Ron withdrew his hand and sat back in his chair. Harry inhaled sharply and looked quickly to his best friends. They were both watching him cautiously again. They knew what had happened now, knew he hadn't been a prisoner at all, but they didn't know Fenrir like he did and they seemed alarmed by the affection in his voice when he spoke of him.
"If it was literally just down to what I wanted and nothing else," he began, slowly answering their question from earlier, "I don't know what I'd do, or what I'm going to do after this is all over. It's complicated." He couldn't give them a clearer answer than that.
Mostly in search of something, anything to do to disrupt the inescapable silence that had fallen, he reached forward and tugged one of the books that had been piled up towards him. On top of it sat a copy of the Daily Prophet. There was huge picture on the front page of his face, one of the photos they'd snapped of him as Dumbledore had whisked him away from the Ministry the night Sirius died. He looked so young there and stunned by grief. Was it really only a few years ago this had been taken? Next to that was an image of Fenrir, fresh out of Azkaban with hair and beard mottled with dirt and blood, his eyes wild. It looked horrendous, like a mad beast had taken advantage of a child – which was so far from the truth. It made him angry to see.
Did the whole world think he'd been abused by Fenrir? He could hear it now, all of wizarding society talking about that poor Potter boy, taken advantage of by a ferocious monster. The Fenrir he knew had never looked like this, not even when they'd first met. They knew Fenrir about as well as they knew him. He grit his teeth in frustration and stroked his son's back – more to calm himself than anything. The baby's clean, innocent smell whisked up his nostrils and soothed him a fraction as he read the article attached to the images.
Death Eaters flee!
It has been reported that dozens and dozens of known Death Eaters have abandoned their posts across the United Kingdom, after they witnessed at an apparent meeting (location unknown) that He Who Must Not Be Named could not touch Fenrir Greyback magically. Fenrir Greyback, known murderer, ex-death eater and werewolf is rumoured to be in the company than our very own Chosen One. Harry Potter, 18, seemed to form an unstoppable team with Greyback and his pack – so formidable was their joined power that many of He Who Must Not Be Named's followers have gone into hiding.
Prior to this, Harry Potter had not been heard from or seen since he was sighted in the Ministry last year, fleeing from the authorities. It is known that in April this year, he was in the custody of the Death Eaters and that he somehow escaped with the aid of the notorious Greyback. Their relationship has been the subject on everyone's lips, a forbidden, immoral union that…
Harry shoved the paper away from him with distaste. It skidded across the table to land in front of Hemming who smiled grimly. "Do not concern yourself with what the wizards think when there are so much more important things to consider," Hemming said, gesturing to the baby in his arms.
Harry sighed. "I just don't want to be the subject of scandal and rumour every time I so much as sneeze," he snapped. "They're making it look like I've bought Fenrir's power with sex or something." He'd been shielded from this spiteful slander and gossip since Fenrir had liberated him from Voldemort's clutches in April – he'd forgotten how it got under his skin.
He really missed Fenrir. Tilting his head, he looked out the small window by the back door, as if expecting to see Fenrir stride through it with his trademark arrogance and bad temper. Where was he?
"Have you got a name for him yet?" Ron asked, "Please tell me it's not Fenrir Junior?" It was his attempt at lightening the thick atmosphere that had settled. Harry smiled softly, appreciating the attempt.
"I've got no idea what to call him," he said, yawning widely at the same time as his son did. The dummy fell out of his mouth as he did so and Ron popped it back in. Harry smiled tiredly, pleased that his friend seemed more at ease with him. He had no clue what to call his son, after months of carrying him, he'd honestly had so many other things to worry about that he and Fenrir had never discussed it. He winced. Was that just the start of it? He'd already not made time for something as important as his son's name? What type of father could he possibly be?
Staring down at his son's now sleeping face, he tried to think of a name that Fenrir might think of. His siblings had been called Louden, Lyall, Llora and Wolfram. Should he try and think of a name like that? He frowned. Would the baby be a Greyback or a Potter?
"It's tradition for the alpha male to name the cubs," Lupa said brightly, her words reassuring him – he didn't know if that was intentional or not. If she could've possibly guessed what he was thinking. "You're tired, Alpha Numero, you should sleep while he sleeps."
Harry blinked. He wanted to, he could feel his very bones aching with exhaustion. But he was afraid of Voldemort invading his dreams, afraid of leaving Ron and Hermione like this, still so uncertain. Looking at them both directly, he studied their faces. "You two need to get some sleep. I'll be alright for the night. Really, don't worry about me." He didn't know if they were worried about the same thing he was or not but they hesitated.
"Harry, do you think you can practice occlumency well enough to keep Him out if he tries to look?" Hermione asked anxiously. "It's unlikely he will, if he thinks you're still with Greyback but if he were to try just once… Harry if he finds out we've destroyed the other horcruxes before we can reach him–"
"If he doesn't sleep he will drop where he stands," Lupa said, bristling. "We can deal with Tergarletum if and when we need to. The Alpha is coming, once he is within range we will no longer have to worry about that. Your friend needs to sleep."
Hermione bit her lip. Harry shook his head, signalling for her not to worry. He was glad she was thinking of these things, he knew it didn't mean she didn't care about him.
Ron fidgeted in his seat. "And what Hemming said," he began awkwardly. "You know, about…about what might happen if you feel abandoned…" He swallowed hard.
Feeling uneasy, Harry looked down to his son again. There was no way in hell he would hurt him. It was just unthinkable. He'd rather chew off his own arm than do it. His wolf instincts were strong but he could throw off the Imperius curse, and right now, he was sitting out there with them when all the instincts wanted was for him to be hiding back in the den.
"I won't hurt him or myself," Harry said, his faith in his own words unwavering. Anything else was simply impossible. "I've never been a text-book case, let's face it. I'm out here sitting with you, letting you touch me, touch him when the wolf inside is screaming for me to curl up and wait for Fenrir to arrive. I can control it, I'm not a slave to my instincts." He sighed, getting to his feet. His legs felt like jelly. Sleep really sounded blissful right now.
Making his way towards his den, he pulled Fenrir's cloak around him more snugly. He felt cold all of a sudden, colder in this house than he ever had sleeping on the grass at night under the moon. "Hemming and Lupa will be watching me, if you're really that worried." He appreciated that they were worried though, for him and the baby, it was an encouraging notion to him more than anything else.
Voldemort he was worried about, but hurting his own son? He nuzzled into his dark hair, inhaling him. There was no chance of that. He'd been without Fenrir this long and the thought hadn't so much as occurred to him, not even when his faith had wavered and he'd thought his mate had truly abandoned him. He knew his instincts, knew how strong they could be, could see how past wolves might have been driven to desperation with them. Especially if they thought they'd been left to fend for themselves, thought it may be best for their cubs to go quickly rather than starve to death because their mother could not find food.
But he wasn't out in the wilderness and he wasn't alone. He never would be. Never had been, not since he'd stepped foot on the Hogwart's Express all those years ago.
"Mate," Ron said slowly, "your room is all ready upstairs for you, you know. Tonks even dug up Teddy's first bassinet for you to put the baby in. You can sleep in a real bed."
Harry winced. Everything else he could push aside, could ignore, just. But he needed to be in his den to relax, to feel safe. He needed to curl up in the warm dark where the only smells were his, his mate's and his son's, if he had any hope of sleeping soundly. "This is just something I need to do," he said, "it's a wolf thing. I… I was taken from the den I made before. I can't leave this one, not yet." He was supposed to curl up there with his mate while his body recovered, while his son strengthened. He needed to do that and Fenrir wasn't far away, he could feel it in his skin, warm and buzzing like soft pulses of electric.
With a glance out into early night beyond the window, he curled up in the pile of duvets once more. He gently eased his son out of the sling and set it aside. Hermione and Ron bid him goodnight, which he returned sleepily, fidgeting with the nest so that his son was supported against his warm chest. He took his glasses off and his entire body drooped as soon as they were both settled.
Dimly, he heard Hemming and Lupa moving around outside the den but didn't care. They were there, on guard, that was all that mattered. Sleep tugged urgently at his senses and despite knowing Fenrir would probably in close enough range to protect him from Voldemort's invasion soon, he tried to clear his mind before unconsciousness took him. The sound of his son's breathing, his scent and Fenrir's all helped him to relax enough to empty it as much as possible.
~To Be Continued…