Auribus Teneo Lupum

by Shigure-san

FenrirxHarry - Watching Potter refuse to break under Voldemort's torture, Greyback senses that he is far too valuable to his species to allow to die. Demanding possession of him, he takes the boy as his own. Unfortunately, the boy refuses to bend or break under him either…

19. He Who Was Born in a Dark Place

.: Chapter Nineteen :.

He Who Was Born in a Dark Place

A sound that his body still wasn't accustomed to tugged ferociously at his senses until he blinked unseeingly at the dimness of the cupboard. Lupa or Hemming had pulled the curtain back over for him while he slept it seemed. When his instincts recognised the sound as that of a baby crying, he bolted upright. His own baby, however, was lying placidly in his arms, awake but happily sucking on his dummy and watching him.

Harry frowned as the rest of him woke, his human mind catching up. He put his glasses back on. When he tugged the curtain aside, he saw that only a few oil lamps on the table brought light to the kitchen. Remus was pacing up and down in front of the counter, waiting for the saucepan of milk to heat over the AGA, a small, squalling baby squirming in his arms.

Harry froze. The baby's hair was electric pink and he knew instantly that this was Teddy. He blinked, inhaling sharply and watched as Remus turned towards him.

"Sorry," the man murmured, his voice weak and tired, as if he'd been up all night. "He's usually so good with sleeping through the night – he's just started teething though, having a hard time." He gestured his head toward the AGA, the light from the table catching the silvery hairs that interspersed the blond on his head. "Just waiting for some milk."

Moistening his dry lips, Harry nodded, tucking his head back in to pull his own silent son to his chest. He staggered out into the kitchen. Hemming was sitting just outside his cupboard and Lupa was sitting by the back door. They both looked immediately to Harry and he gave them reassuring looks as he approached Remus. His son turned his head toward the awful sound of the older baby boy crying, a scowl of confusion furrowing his brow.

This is so weird, Harry thought, our sons are only seven months apart in age. Teddy's face was scrunched up and pink with pain and tears, but he was unmistakeably Remus'. Harry smiled. Teddy was chubby-cheeked and adorable, despite drooling a little from his teething gums.

"He's a metamorphmagus," Harry said, shifting his little bludger against his chest more comfortably. The baby blanket was open a little to allow skin to skin contact, it just felt right, he couldn't explain why but it seemed to calm the baby too. He was frowning at the loud crying from Teddy, but not crying himself.

"Yes," Remus said with a tired smile. "And not a werewolf either. I was so–" His words died on his tongue as he realised what he was about to say and he stopped, staring at Harry and the baby in his arms for a moment. When a disembodied magical ping sounded, evidently signalling the milk was optimum temperature for Teddy, Remus turned away. He flicked his wand and directed the milk to pour itself into a bottle. Setting his wand down, he screwing the bottle shut with one hand and took a seat at the table, coaxing the nipple into Teddy's mouth. The boy stopped screaming immediately.

Harry sat down too. He took a seat a few chairs from Remus to give the man the space he obviously wanted and to stop his instincts from prickling uncertainly with an 'enemy' wolf being so close to his own cub. Teddy's large, tear-stained violet eyes were blinking at him curiously. They turned green once he'd been staring at him long enough, his hair becoming an untidy, obsidian copy of Harry's.

Harry gave a small laugh. "Does this mean he likes me?" he mused.

Remus smiled briefly, looking exhausted and haggard. "I suppose I should introduce you." He let Teddy lean back against his chest, the tot's hands coming up to hold the bottle along with Remus'. "Harry, this is Teddy, your godson."

Harry blinked, stunned to silence. "Remus," he breathed softly, unsure of what to say. Remus had given him such a meaningful position but had most likely done so before he'd found out exactly what had happened to him while he was with Fenrir. Had he changed his mind now? He could've just not told you if he'd changed his mind, his mind supplied.

"He looks just like you, Remus," he said at last.

Remus laughed. "I hope not."

Teddy was gumming the nipple of the bottle as he drank. It was indeed soothing him. He seemed to be drifting slowly again. Little bludger was awake still but happily resting against Harry, cuddled against his chest. The unease was thick between the adults in the room now and Harry wondered if Remus would ever be able to accept that Fenrir hadn't raped and pillaged him against his will. That Fenrir wasn't the monster he thought he was.

He was just wondering if Remus would ever be able to accept what he was and therefore embrace a healthier, happier life. If he could accept Fenrir, accept his and Fenrir's son, maybe he could accept himself as well? He'd seen how happy the turned werewolves in the pack were with their lives, under different circumstances, that could've been Remus too.

Looking around at his two pack mates, Harry said, "Can you give us a minute or two?"

Hemming and Lupa exchanged a look of uncertainty. Harry sighed. "I trust Remus," he said firmly and it was the truth. He trusted Remus with his life, even if his treacherous instincts didn't. Remus would never hurt him or his son – or any baby for that matter. "We can't exactly brawl in here with the boys anyway," he added. This seemed to convince them, for they slowly got to their feet and made their way towards the door.

"Alpha will have our necks for this," Hemming said with a wince.

"I won't tell him if you won't," Harry replied reassuringly. Hemming gave a tight smile and headed up the stairs.

"Just call if you need us," Lupa said, offering Remus a final, warning look before following Hemming up, leaving them alone.

"They're very protective over you," Remus noticed, setting the bottle aside and pulling Teddy into the crook of his arm. The boy was dozing now, apparently soothed by the soft sound of their voices and his warm belly full of milk.

"The pack, they're like a family. They care about me," Harry said, hoping Remus would understand. As one of the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers they'd ever had and a werewolf himself, Remus knew the mechanics of a pack, of werewolf traditions but he didn't know the emotional side of it. "Remus, they're really not what we all thought they were."

Remus looked away from him, as if it pained him to see the compassion in his eyes for a man he blamed for ruining his life. "Fenrir Greyback did vile, horrible things, Harry," he said quietly, clutching his son to his chest as if he feared the same fate would befall him. "He tore people apart like an animal, he bit children – he ruined me."

Gritting his teeth against the instincts screaming inside him, Harry rose and sat himself back down right next to Remus. He smiled at him sadly, reaching out to brush the knuckle of his forefinger against Teddy's tiny, bare toes. The boy was small yet still bigger that the infant in Harry's arms, it made Harry realise how little his son really was. He sucked in a breath.

He will get bigger, his mind assured him. Eithne, Fenrir, Hemming, Lupa, all of them said so. His thoughts drifted to Fenrir and what he would say and do when he saw his son for the first time. Did Fenrir even realise he'd had the baby? Probably not.

"I know you don't want to believe me, Remus but Fenrir is not a mindless animal. He's a boorish, bad-tempered arse with a past that's made him bitter but he's a good man." He flushed darkly but forced himself to add the next part, knowing Remus needed to hear it. "He's a good mate, lover, whatever you want to call it…"

Remus looked horrified, rather than reassured. "Oh, Harry," he gasped. "Harry, he's… You deserve more than that monster. Harry he…he has hurt so many people, so many children…"

"I met all of the children he turned, Remus, I've lived with them all over the last few months," he said, his voice low, mindful of the children, but firm. Remus needed to know he wasn't a broken, abused boy. "They were the happiest, most carefree children I've ever met. They adored and respected Fenrir. He turned them, yes but he never hurt them."

"He cursed them," Remus retorted simply, "took them away from their families–"

"Who abused them," Harry said quickly, interrupting him. "Remus, Fenrir and his pack only turn and take in children who are abandoned, neglected or abused by their families. They give them a quick nip on the arm and raise them as their own. You may call it a curse but they don't think of it that way. They love being werewolves, they love the pack, their family. They're safe and happy. Remus, Fenrir rescues children and gives them a new life away from pain, loneliness and suffering."

Remus flinched; obviously not believing him, for after all (according to him) wasn't the fact that Fenrir had turned him proof enough that this wasn't the case? But it was more than that. It was a bone-deep reaction to unsettling memories bubbling to the surface unbidden.

Taking a long, deep breath to steel himself for what was to come, Harry looked at the man's face. The tired, haggard face of a man he considered to be the only 'parent-like' figure he had left. It pained him to see his suffering, his sadness. Perhaps if Remus could understand what happened to him, he would get better? Biting the inside of his lip, Harry could only hope so.

"Remus?" he murmured at last hesitantly. "Were you abused as a child?"

The man's face darkened as he raised his face to look at Harry. He was silent for a long time, blatantly haunted by his memories. His mouth moved soundlessly for a moment, before he found his words. "My uncle," he whispered, voice hoarse with emotion. "On my mother's side. He…" He grit his teeth. "He touched me, sexually. Made me do things I was too young to understand."

Remus looked down at his son and pulled the little dressing gown the boy was wearing more snugly around him. Harry waited patiently, his embrace on his own son tensing as well. He understood what Remus was thinking, that something of that nature happening to their children was just simply unbearable.

"My parents didn't find out until after I'd been turned," Remus continued quietly. "When I was only a small child, just locking me in my room with a leash on to keep me from destroying things was enough to restrain me. They didn't know about my uncle's visits to my room and when he snuck in one day, approaching my bed thinking he'd…" Remus swallowed, hard and Harry felt his own stomach churn with revulsion.

Harry could guess the rest. "He thought he'd molest you, like he'd always done, but you turned half way through."

"He didn't even realise what was happening to me until it was too late," Remus murmured darkly. "I was young but he was drunk and unprepared. I savaged him. Tore him to pieces. My parents came in the next morning to find what remained of him all over my bedroom floor and me covered in blood." He stared at Harry seriously then, self-loathing ripe on his worn features.

"I enjoyed it, Harry. I was too young to understand or remember much but I will never forget how good it felt to tear him to shreds, to make him suffer for everything he'd ever done to me." Remus had gone deathly pale and looked quite sick. Harry reached out to touch him reassuringly but the man held up a hand to stop him. "That is part of the reason I loathe this curse. I liked how it gave me the power back. I enjoyed tearing my uncle to pieces in revenge, in a way I never could if I were merely human. That power is heady and seductive, it scared me, Harry. It still scares me."

Harry watched as the man looked down at baby Teddy again, love and fear in his eyes. "To know that I am so powerful, so dangerous that I could tear my family to pieces. I nearly killed you once too, Harry, don't you remember?" His face was twisted with almost physical pain at the memory. "Harry, I would've killed you, Sirius, Hermione, Ron and Snape and at the time, I would have relished the kill. How can that not be a curse?"

Harry did touch the man's arm then, squeezing gently. "I know you think I've just been brainwashed or something but I've lived with wolves for the last few months and I know that this is true," he began. "The wolfsbane is supposed to let you keep your own mind. That's true and it works but it also pushes your wolf far below the surface, smothering it the rest of the days out of the month as well. It riles it up, like keeping it in a cage and suddenly letting it loose (when you forget your potion). It goes mad like a mindless, feral beast. The pack isn't like that."

Harry waited, letting his words sink in. "The wolves in the pack, when they turn they are just embodiments of their base instincts. They act like normal wolves not like mindless monsters. They kill to protect and to eat, yes but they aren't savages. Draco and me were perfectly safe during the full moon there. They knew us still, knew we were theirs. Yes, they can overreact, they are still dangerous but so is any animal. So is any human for that matter."

"Are you trying to tell me if I didn't smother my wolf, after a time I could be as healthy and strong as Greyback and them," Remus gestured with his chin toward the stairs Lupa and Hemming had vanished up. "Harry, the cost, the danger would be too great…"

Harry frowned. "Wolfsbane didn't exist when you were in school, did it? When you used to run around with Dad, Sirius and Pettigrew?"

Remus blinked, evidently unsure where he was going with this. "No," he said slowly.

"Sirius had a lot of trouble keeping you in check when I was thirteen, that night you almost killed us. But he and Dad used to keep you in check quite easily when you had your monthly romps out in the forest."

Silence. A comprehending silence that made Remus stare at Harry with wide-eyed understanding and horror all at once. "You think I recognised them all when I used to change before the wolfsbane," Remus whispered.

"Perhaps not for who they were, but you knew they were friends, you knew not to eat them, to attack them. You can't tell me a stag wouldn't have been a prime target for a werewolf's meal? Why else wouldn't you have tried to eat him? Remus, it makes sense." He gripped Remus' arm tighter. "You could come to the pack during the moon if you're really unconvinced and worried about Tonks and Teddy. The pack hierarchy will keep you from hurting anyone else and you'd see, Remus you'd feel the difference."

When Remus didn't say anything or even look at him for a long time, Harry released him and sat back, regarding him carefully. "Fenrir only turned you because he thought your dad was the one abusing you. He told me it was the one thing that he regretted and that he'd do anything to amend that mistake."

Remus' head snapped up to him. "Harry I… How do you know that's the truth?"

"I'm his mate, we can't lie to each other without the other sensing it. He spoke the truth, Remus, all of it. He also told me if you keep going this way, Teddy isn't going to get much chance to know his father before the toll of fighting the wolf becomes too much for you." He stared into those eyes, seeing the fear register there, watching Remus weigh up the pros and cons in his mind.

"It would mean the world to me if you tried, Remus and if it doesn't work, what do you have to lose? The worst that will happen is your wolf will act out and Fenrir will put you in your place as alpha."

Remus winced, his pride obviously having a hard time dealing with that image but Harry knew Remus, knew he would never let something like pride get in his way.

"Are you sure, Harry?" Remus asked in a voice Harry had never heard before. A voice that sounded as if it didn't dare to hope.

"As sure as I am that I would never, ever hurt my son, even if I thought Fenrir had abandoned me," he said firmly.

All of a sudden, Teddy stretched slowly in Remus' arms, blinking tiredly at the two adults and then curiously at the baby in Harry's arms. He's never seen another baby before, Harry realised and smiled uncertainly at the little boy. "Hi Teddy," Harry said.

Teddy blinked and Remus shifted forward, pushing Teddy into Harry's other arm, resting on his knee and against his chest. Teddy stared up at Harry's face, mesmerised by his glasses. His own hair and eyes were identical to Harry's still, which Harry took as an encouraging sign. Then the baby in Harry's other arm stretched tiredly, making a quiet whimpering sound, drawing Teddy's attention to him.

"Ron and Hermione said you haven't got a name for him yet," Remus said.

Harry shook his head. "Apparently it's the alpha's role, which is just as well as I'm rubbish at that sort of thing." He looked down at his son, who was staring with interest at Teddy. The seven month old reached out, patting the baby clumsily on the head. The younger infant winced and murmured unhappily.

"Gently, Teddy," Remus said, taking Teddy's wrist and helping the boy to pat the baby more gently. "He's much smaller than you."

"Baba!" Teddy gurgled.

"Yeah, baby," Harry mused, smiling softly. Teddy beamed up at him, proud of himself. It made Harry's insides warm. He was so afraid of what type of parent he might be but Teddy seemed to like him alright – he was sitting on his lap without crying at any rate. It was encouraging.

"Baba!" Teddy said again happily.

"You'll have to be a good boy and help me look after him, won't you, Teddy?" Harry said. The little boy frowned in confusion but then nodded, apparently interested. Harry felt his instincts prickling at Remus' closeness, but Teddy being between them helped. Infants weren't seen as a threat, after all and would've been allowed into the den if he'd been back with the pack. His thoughts strayed to little Vilkas and the others. He hoped they were all alright.

"Remus," Harry said after a while, when Teddy had grown sleepy in his grasp as well and was leaning against his chest, staring at the smaller baby as he drifted. Remus had sat back in his chair watching them carefully. He seemed very thoughtful since their conversation but it was something else that was worrying Harry, something he hadn't wanted to mention before to the others in case…

In case it wasn't normal, his mind supplied, in case they told you it was something to worry about. But Remus was still the only father-like figure he had left; it felt easier, less wrong to voice his fears to him. Unlike Ron, Hermione and the others, he didn't have to pretend to be strong for them. He didn't have to be strong for Fenrir either, but he still wasn't here. Harry looked out the window of the back door to see that the sky had lightened somewhat but it was still very much dark outside with the very early morning hours.

"When the wards went down at the valley, one of the werewolves fighting against us, he came into the den. He attacked Draco, he…" He winced at the memory. "He wanted me. He was going to take me but when he tried to touch him," he gestured to his little bludger, "I… Remus, I turned into a wolf." He stared into Remus' eyes, hoping he had some explanation, some reassurance for him.

"Consciously?" Remus murmured after an extended silence.

Harry shook his head. "I didn't even think I… I don't think I was capable of rational thought then. I just saw him going towards the bed and I… It just happened." He looked down at the sleeping boys in his arms and wondered if Remus would insist again that he let them take his son from him, for his own safety. The prospect was foreign to him, unthinkable.

"Not a lot is known about those that carry recessive genes, like you, Harry," Remus murmured quietly. "They are so protected by their packs. Their abilities so guarded. I have never heard of that happening before. Not ever. Only a turned or born werewolf can assume a werewolf form. Wizards can become animagi of course, but to do that takes years of practice – not a sheer rush of will. And a wolf and a werewolf are decidedly different in size-"

"No, I was definitely a werewolf, like Fenrir," Harry muttered quickly, remembering all too well how his size had dwarfed Conall's human form, had snuffed out his life with such little effort…

Harry swallowed hard and winced at the memory of blood on his tongue. He shivered. He'd killed someone. Killed them…

"As much as I regret to say this…" Remus began, drawing Harry back from his dangerous thoughts. "Perhaps Greyback or one of his…followers-" he gestured to the doorway, clearly meaning Hemming or Lupa, "-might have some idea because Harry, as far as I am aware, this have never happened before."

Harry winced. "What if there's something wrong with me?" he murmured and then, voiced his true concern, the true reason he had avoided telling Hemming and Lupa. "What if they think they need to take him away from me as well?" He looked down at little bludger and his chest clenched at the thought. He had been strong when he had taken Conall down but if Hemming and Lupa thought his son needed to be taken from him for his own good, he didn't think he could overpower them both at once.

Remus shifted in his seat then and Harry's head whipped up, muscles tense. It was all he could do to not snarl at the man. Remus must've seen it in his eyes, however, for he only said softly, "that boy is your world, isn't he?"

Harry watched him carefully.

Remus smiled. "He loves you, dearly. You haven't put him down for a moment, that's characteristic of even a paranoid, overanxious first time human parent but Harry, with you that is magnified one-hundred-fold by your instincts."

"You even suggested he be taken from me," Harry muttered cautiously. "I won't let you. Any of you. He belongs with me, he's mine he's the only…" The only thing that was truly his. Just his. He saw Remus regard him knowingly and was forced to glance away. He felt like a silly, irrational child with Remus looking at him like that and he couldn't bear it. "I killed that other wolf, the one whose corpse you saw? I killed the enemy while I was a wolf to stop him from touching my son. I'd do it again in an instant."

"You think that makes you a bad person?" Remus asked. Harry's head snapped back to look at him.

"Well, doesn't it?" he asked, voice a bit too loud, a bit too desperate. In his arms, both boys whined and fidgeted. Remus eased forward and took Teddy back into his lap, coaxing him to remain asleep. He was so natural, so at ease and Teddy wasn't even awake before he was slumbering soundly again. Against Harry's chest, however, his tiny son whimpered unhappily. Harry summoned the sling to him and wrapped it back around him, sliding the baby into it and using its support to rock him gently against his chest. It seemed to help quiet him.

I have a long way to go, he thought, smoothing a hand through the tiny boy's thick locks before glancing up and finding Remus' eyes back on him. He fidgeted awkwardly. With his human mind in control again he felt…awkward with people watching him dote over his son. Embarrassed at his affections being so obvious, afraid of their judgement or that he was doing something so wrong or clumsily…

"I would kill in an instant to save my son's life, Harry. It's part of a parent's love. It's the same force that drove your parents to stand between Voldemort and you that night in Godric's Hollow."

That sentiment didn't make Harry feel better. "But it's what drives you to hate your werewolf nature as well," he said. "You're scared it might make you hurt Teddy and you can't understand that I just won't hurt my son, even if I do somehow transform into a wolf again. Maybe if I were poisoned by the wolfsbane but I'm not, Remus. I'm just…I'm just me. You want me to give him up until I'm stable again or something?" His voice was quiet but husky with panic and anger. He wrapped his arms around the little body against his own. That tiny head lolled against his chest, little fingers pawing at his skin. He loved him, so much, it hurt.

"You think I'm a bad dad because I won't let you have him?"

Remus sighed. "Harry," he said gently, "I think you're a very good person who has been through a lot the last few months. Your body has suffered a great trauma and I don't think right now you're in a condition to realise how dangerous you could be to–"

"I may be unstable, I may be going mental with these instincts inside me and Merlin only knows what else, but I would never hurt him," Harry said rigidly. "Even when I was the wolf, I…" He flushed darkly. "I was on an instinct-high or something but all I did was give him a tongue-bath. He was perfectly safe with me, even then, when I had just torn out that bastard Conall's throat."

Harry got to his feet, wrapping Fenrir's cloak around him and the baby, so that the baby wouldn't even be visible to anyone that stood before him. He'd been sure Remus would be able to make him feel better, would understand but he was too torn by his own loathing for the part of him he called a curse to comprehend that he was not a slathering beast when his instincts took over.

The warm, simplicity of his den was calling to him. His head was starting to hurt. He'd thought Remus, his only parent-like figure remaining would be able to offer some reassurance, some comfort. But he'd never felt so alone.

Suddenly, a long, haunting, mournful howl pierced the air. Harry and Remus both froze. The hairs on the back of Harry's neck and arms stood on end. His stomach clenched and his heart thudded frantically. Heat he'd thought he'd long forgotten swelled there and rippled through him. Slowly, his head turned to the back door. The moonlight was streaming in. An awareness rose in him, like the kind one got when someone was standing behind them, yet different. Another howl called from the outside – called to him. Fenrir was here.

Turning fully to the back door, Harry stared at it for a moment. No, that wasn't the quickest way to get to his mate. He whirled on his heel and headed for the stairs. "Harry?" he heard from behind him, but he did not respond. The name didn't quite make sense to him at the moment, though the voice was familiar. He had to get outside. He had to get to his mate.

"Harry?!"

Several people stumbled into the hall as he walked down it towards the door.

"What's the matter?" a female voice he recognised called. He walked passed them as they stood, confused and half-asleep.

"Hermione!" the werewolf behind him called, a squalling baby's cries filling the air.

Another deeper, disembodied voice was now screaming: "TRAITORS! FILTHY WEREWOLF AND MUDBLOOD SCUM!"

"Hermione! Stop him! Don't let him go! Greyback is out there!"

"I'll stop him-"

"No, Ron!" the girl's voice, "don't use magic on him! He looks the same as he did before, when he was driven by instincts, don't use magic!"

Too late.

"Immobulus!" Ron cried.

A sharp, electric burst erupted behind him and Harry whirled lightning fast to see the spell. He dodged it with a snarl and it hit the roaring portrait, freezing it mid-scream. Harry backed away into the wall, one hand clawing at the door while the other held the cloak tight around him and his son, still hidden from view. The baby wasn't crying but he was squirming against him unhappily. He would be alright, once they got to his mate. He was so close, just outside! He hadn't been abandoned!

"Stop this!" At the voice of one of his pack-mates, Harry felt a swell of hope. They would understand better than these humans! They would help him reach his mate. He needed to be out there.

"You raise your wand again Weasley and I'll rip that arm off!" the female pack-mate snarled.

"Stop fighting!" the girl, the one who'd come to him in his den.

"If you do not let our alpha in here he will attract the attention of every muggle and death eater within a hundred miles!" the male pack-mate snapped. "He'll stalk outside the wards until they all come down on us and when he finally gets in he'll be lost to his built-up instincts."

As if on cue, another howl filled the air. It sounded desperate, angry and lost all at once. Harry whined softly in answer and struggled with the door handle. He glanced up and saw why it wouldn't open, the werewolf, the skinny one from downstairs had his arm braced against it, stopping it from opening. Harry began to growl warningly but the sight of the little boy in the werewolf's arms stopped him. He grumbled, displeased, slinking back against the wall.

Another howl called him. He writhed against the wall, staring up at the wolf that blocked his exit, using the human child as a shield against violence. He whined, willing the man to understand.

"Let the alpha inside the wards," female pack-mate insisted.

"He'll kill us all!" the red-headed human cried. "You said it yourself, he's in a frenzy!"

"Because you're keeping him from his mate and child!" the female pack-mate argued. "And if you don't let him in, you'll have Tergarletum, the surrounding muggles and the wizarding world in general knowing your location. You have no choice!"

A long silence followed, a stalemate that was pierced by another eerie cry. Harry howled back. The sound was piteous and weak.

At last, the girl who had come to his den, the girl, barely a woman spoke. "Let him into the back garden," she said quietly. "The wards on the house are separate. Let him there first, under the privacy charms of the plot, then we can stand on the threshold of the house wards and try and…you know, negotiate with him."

At the door, the older, skinny werewolf grimaced. "There is no reasoning with that monster."

"There is no better option," an older human female said, approaching the werewolf that was her mate with an expression born of sadness, fear and anxiety. She stared at the skinny wolf and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, before taking her son from his arms, shushing him gently.

"Remus, Hermione's plan is the only one we have," she said. "He's pacing the perimeter of the block, let him into the wards on the garden and we'll all go out there-"

"No," Remus said sharply. "You stay inside with Teddy, all of you, stay inside-"

"Greyback needs to see Harry or he'll not stop," the human girl piped up again. She had come closer now and was standing right in front of Harry, gently, cautiously urging him to his feet. Warily, he followed her movements until he was upright. She was acting like pack, she smelt like it. Maybe she was, despite being human? Like his blond human back at the valley…

"Here," the girl said then, snatching up a piece of parchment from the small table beside the door. Hesitantly, carefully she drew her wand, eyes reassuringly on Harry the whole time and summoned a quill. She used it to scrawl out a message on the scrap of paper. She thrust it at the male pack mate. "They won't let Harry go out there, but Greyback can't get into even the garden wards without invitation from a secret keeper. That has my invitation. You'll have to calm him down so he can read it so he can get in the garden. We'll meet you there."

The male pack-mate winced. "You underestimate the power of the bond they share," he gestured to Harry. "You see what he becomes when lost to his instincts after having his cub? Greyback is no less affected. He doesn't even know his mate has given birth! He thinks you've stolen his pregnant mate from his den! He's not going to listen to me!"

"These wizards are stubborn, Hemming," the female pack-mate growled, "and they'll start throwing hexes around if we try and take Harry out there ourselves. This is all we can do." She stared into her companion's eyes then looked at Harry. "Go to our alpha, it's our only chance." She then turned to Harry fully, her neck exposed. He did not so much as hesitate, he shot forwards, so that he was safely between her and the human girl who seemed nearly pack. There were too many people in this tight, cramped hallway, too many foreign yet familiar smells. It made his head ache.

"This way," the human girl said gently. She'd put her wand away again, Harry felt a bit better about letting her and the female pack-mate guide him back downstairs. The red-headed human and the werewolf followed them down and when the back door was opened by the girl at his side, Harry flew out eagerly. He let the female pack-mate go first.

At the bidding of the skinny werewolf, she grudgingly came to a halt at the edge of the ragged, weed-ridden patio. The air he sensed blowing from beyond the patio seemed lighter, less heavy with wizard magic somehow and Harry knew there was some kind of shield spell there, similar to the magic protecting the valley. Why wasn't his pack-mate going further, he wondered? He came to stand just behind her and the human girl, safely hidden with the skinny werewolf and the human red-head behind him –not too close. He was tense, wary of their presence but fidgeting restlessly still. He could feel his mate coming closer.

Suddenly, the shrubs just beyond the tall stone wall at the far end of the garden shuddered. A discontented growl sounded and then a large, crisp-white wolf ambled over the fence and into few. He had a shallow bite to his right shoulder that he favoured, but he was otherwise unhurt, if a bit dishevelled. Harry knew his mate had scuffled with him for acting as a barrier between them, if however unintentionally.

Harry whined gently, wanting to know his pack-mate was alright. The white wolf stopped at the sound, then yipped back. He made his way across the grass quickly but silently, transforming back to a man as he reached them. He was naked, scuffed and panting but otherwise alright. The humans around Harry fidgeted uncomfortably at his proximity, the girl flushing at the brazen nakedness. Humans were funny.

Harry was staring at the fence that his pack-mate had scrambled over a moment before. Would his mate come that way? Where was he? Why had he stopped calling?

"You owe me for that, Lupin," the male pack-mate grumbled. "He's in a bloody foul mood." He rolled his wounded shoulder with displeasure.

"Is he coming?" the human girl asked. She sounded afraid. Harry frowned, understanding the feelings if not the words. He leant forwards and butted his head against her shoulder. She glanced back at him and smiled uncertainly.

Male pack-mate nodded. "After I submitted he calmed down enough to listen, even if he's not capable of speech. He read the invitation. Tore it to shreds after, mind you," he mused. "But he's coming." He stretched, breathing in the very early morning freshness. "I can sense him." He looked directly at Harry then. "You can too."

Harry cocked his head and pulled the cloak tight around him, his cub silent but awake, squirming in the warmth of his chest. Before Harry could do anything else, however, the same scrabbling of before, the same disruption to the shrubbery and a foul-tempered growl stilled them all. A flash of silver made Harry's mouth go dry and then the large silver wolf was landing on all-fours in the garden. He stopped at the sight of them all and bowed his head, a low, angry growl tugging back his jowls from his teeth.

Around Harry, the humans tensed and took a step back. The human girl grabbed his arm, as did the boy. He tensed but otherwise did not react, could not take his eyes off the moon-bathed glory of his mate's silver fur. It rippled over powerful muscle as the wolf approached slowly, still growling. He was angry, upset. Harry needed to go to him, he moved forward, but the girl did not let go. He struggled against her.

"Keep him within the house wards," the skinny werewolf said carefully.

Harry whined, struggles intensifying.

"At least let them see each other, then," the female pack-mate grunted, stepping to the side so that Harry was in full view. That stopped the silver wolf in his tracks. His ears drew back in suspicion. His ice-blue eyes narrowed and flashed gold as his tail pointed out. No one in the garden dared move. Harry just waited, sensing his mate was ill at ease with the presence of the wizards and magic between them. The human girl still had hold of his arm.

Then, suddenly, his mate barrelled forwards, hurtling towards them with such speed that his fur was pushed flat against his body, a mere blur. He hit the invisible barrier of magic between then, at the edge of the patio and was tumbled backwards. The air shuddered unnaturally. The silver wolf snarled, angry now, rolling back on to all fours and stalking the line, now and then making a break for a different part of the barrier. He had no success. His ears were up now, fur bristling and incisors on full display, shining ominously in the dimness.

"Let the barrier down," the female pack-mate murmured, gripping Harry's other arm and holding him in place when the human girl tried to back away with him. "It's only agitating him more."

"Do you see him?!" the red-headed human snapped, "he'll tear Harry apart in this state and then us too!"

The male pack-mate morphed back into the white wolf again, edging forward with his body low to the ground, back partially arched. He was hoping his submission would calm the alpha enough to reassure the humans. It only irritated him more. The silver wolf snarled and lunged, nipping in annoyance at the white wolf's scruff, snarling warningly against his muzzle. The white wolf whimpered and scuttled back – not behind the barrier, not daring, only back off to the side, not moving from his submissive pose.

"Let me take him out there!" The she-wolf, his female pack-mate barked. "If you fear he might hurt his mate in this frenzy (which is ridiculous) you can at least be assured I will not allow that!"

"I cannot let him touch Harry," the other werewolf said through gritted teeth, "I've failed him once already. He still needs time to heal, to recover his own mind fully. I can't let Greyback take him, force him, use instincts as an excuse to take another choice from him – not ever again."

The she-wolf gripped Harry's arm tighter. It hurt a little. Harry whined at the discomfort and frustration, going limp and still, trying to curl in on himself. His mate was angry and pacing, frantic. There was arguing around him. He needed to be small with his cub. He needed to get back to his den, no, to his mate. No…

Everything hurt, pulling him in two directions. He whined again and the effect on the silver wolf was instantaneous. He froze.

At that moment, the she-wolf lurched forwards, dragging Harry with her. The human girl tried to hold on too and was nearly taken with them from the force of the she-wolf's pull but her red-headed human seized her, just stopping her from toppling over the barrier with them. "No!" the human girl cried.

"Harry!" the skinny werewolf gasped and he too surged, but it was too late. Harry felt an uncomfortable tingle, like a vibrating wave pass over him as he staggered across the boundary. The she-wolf tugged him out of reach of the humans, putting a few feet between them before she stopped.

The silver wolf stared penetratingly at the she-wolf, stiff-legged and tall, tail unmoving and straight. The she-wolf released her hold on Harry at the sight, backing away, her throat bared, her still human-looking body low on the ground. The alpha waited, watching without movement until there was a perimeter of open space around Harry, then he moved, slowly, cautiously, his limbs fluid and ears pricked.

Harry too stepped forward, his mate's cloak still tight around him, completely enveloping his scent and his cub's no doubt, who was still silent and invisible to all. He tugged at the cloak a little, however, so that his throat was exposed as he walked. The pearlescent shape of his mating mark glowed subtly in the dying moonlight.

When they were but a few feet apart, the alpha paused again. Nobody else in the garden dared move, lest the slightest breath or twitch disturb the delicate peace. The silver tail was hanging slightly now, wagging in a telltale manner. His tongue flickered out in a slight pant. The smallest whine sounded. Harry yipped back and with that, they edged closer to each other, until the wolf's great, powerful muzzle was a hairsbreadth from Harry's face.

The alpha's hot breath mussed Harry's hair. Harry inched his head to the side to further expose his marked throat as the wolf inhaled. He whined softly, quietly. The wolf grumbled gently back, his wagging tail visible out of the corner of Harry's eye. Harry squirmed happily, wishing he had a tail to wag. The silver wolf rubbed his muzzle through Harry's hair, his mouth grazing Harry's cheek and leaving a slender trail of spittle in his wake.

Harry nuzzled back, grinding his face into that muzzle as it rubbed against his jaw, then his marked throat. Each of them reacquainted themselves with each other's scent and greeted each other at the same time. Marked each other, lest the world forget to whom they belonged.

Harry felt the change subtly against his body. Smooth, silky fur morphed into short, prickly bristles of a human beard as his mate's human mouth grazed his jawline. He whined gently, happily, his limbs warm and almost liquid as the safe, reassured feelings swelled within. His mate hadn't abandoned him. He was safe now. Everything was alright.

Leaning closer, Harry passed his own lips against his mate's jaw, standing up on his toes to nip his throat. Those big hands were on his shoulders, urging the cloak back off him impatiently. His mate wanted to see his body, to be assured he was alright. But as he took a step back to relieve himself of the cloak, a sharp breeze picked up behind him, whisking across his skin and dragging the scent of his cub into his mate's nostrils.

The alpha froze, his hands tense on Harry's shoulders as he regarded him curiously. In the mayhem and with his cloak, so thick with his own scent wrapped around them, he hadn't noticed the subtle, tiny new smell. As if sensing it was alright to be noticed now, the tiny body tied to Harry's squirmed, a little displeased cry ringing out in the night. The alpha grunted, confused. Harry smiled serenely, shrugging the cloak back so that it barely hung onto his shoulders, revealing the tiny pink body against his own.

Holding his mate's gaze, Harry supported his cub against his chest as he shrugged off the sling, so he could better cradle him in the crook of his arm for the alpha to look on him. The cub cried at being revealed to the cold, his swaddling blanket doing little to protect him from the night air. The alpha growled gently, stepping closer, using his body as a windbreak and stared down into the unhappy pink face.

A large finger rose, tracing the shape of a chubby cheek. The cub quietened and stared up at him with a severe little expression. Harry crooned and leant his head forward, rubbing his cheek against his mate's hairy chest. They needed to scent each other, all of them. They needed to be in his den, safe and warm. He hooked his free arm around his mate's trying to tug him back toward the house. His den was there and the presence of the human's didn't worry him now. His mate was tall and strong against him, an impenetrable fortress against any potential threat.

"They need to be in Harry's den," he vaguely heard the she-wolf say from somewhere behind him.

"I won't invite him into this house," the skinny werewolf (the one that smelt funny, different) said through gritted teeth.

Harry ignored them all, tugging his mate toward the house. The alpha huffed, his eyes trained on him and the cub in his arms as he allowed himself to be moved.

"You don't have to invite him," the human girl said quietly, as if a great realisation had just dawned on her. "Harry is inviting him in." Her words were inadvertently punctuated by the ripple of magic as Harry pulled his mate through the wards. The humans and the odd-smelling werewolf stepped back a few steps out of instinct, but the alpha pair paid no heed. It was as if they didn't exist. Their packmates were close behind, both humanoid and watching the humans carefully, as if daring them to interrupt the intimacy of the moment.

Harry only released his mate when they were inside. He shoved aside the curtain to his den and sat down in the nest he'd made. His mate lowered himself onto his haunches, watching him, eyes scanning the dark, generously-sized cupboard as Harry adjusted the pile of soft duvets and blankets that smelled nicely of him now. He changed his son's nappy and shoved the soiled one out into the kitchen. The alpha frowned, shifting uneasily when it vanished. It wasn't wizard magic, though, and his pack-mates were settling down behind him in the kitchen, on guard. He needed to be with his mate and cub now, that was the most important thing.

When Harry had laid his alpha's fur down last on top of the pile, he settled into the nest and cradled his son against his chest. It was only then that the alpha slid into the space too, curling around him so that they were facing, wrapped close together. With the alpha's body between him and the door, Harry's entire body relaxed and he sighed happily, resting his head on his mate's arm as his cub began to suckle hungrily. He winced but the aching pain was becoming less each time.

The alpha was watching his cub, his large hand gently caressing the thick curls on his delicate head as he fed. Harry smiled subtly, eyes closing, head tucked under his mate's chin and fell asleep before his son even finished eating. Safe. He was safe. It felt so right and warm. Everything would be alright now. He just knew it.

---

Harry awoke and his mind was still fuzzy with instincts. He blinked. His glasses had been taken off so the world was blurry, but it was dark in the den, so he knew the curtain had been drawn across the entrance. His mate's scent and warmth were all around. A low, relaxed sigh left him. Squinting down. He saw that he was still lying on his side, his cub curled in the nest against his belly, but his mate was hovering over them both, his hair hanging over his face in a curtain as he bowed his head.

The alpha grazed Harry's cheek with his mouth, nuzzling gently, reassuring him that he could sleep, if he wanted. But Harry didn't want to sleep through this. His alpha's mouth marked his jaw and neck again, traced his collarbone and shoulders. Cool trails of thin, barely-there spittle lay wherever his mate touched, drying almost instantly on his skin but leaving a reassuring tingle behind. He was being claimed again, all over. It felt nice. Not sexual, not at all, just…comforting.

That mouth caressed his biceps, his forearms and the hollows of his palms where the bristles tickled. Harry squirmed and heard a huff of amusement from above. When that mouth marked his chest, he watched as the alpha frowned in confusion on trailing inadvertently through a few droplets of milk that had leaked. That tongue came out to lap it up gently and his mate seemed to consider the odd taste for a moment, before his mouth continued down.

After some time, Harry was tingling down to his toes and his mate nudged him over onto his belly. Harry obeyed, careful to not jostle his sleeping cub. The back of his neck, shoulders, his spine and rump were marked, all the way down the backs of his legs. It tickled and he wriggled but did not protest. He let his head rest in the nest of warm blankets and enjoyed it.

His mate nudged at his thighs then though, his mouth healing his body everywhere he could. Whining in discomfort, Harry shifted his legs apart so his mate's tongue could soothe every pain until it was a barely-there throb. Only when his mate was satisfied with his healing, did he let Harry roll back over onto his back again.

They lay still in the dark quiet for some time and Harry leant in to the warmth of the alpha's body, drifting off again.

---

Remus stared up at the dark red sky, the sun not yet visible along the horizon of rich shrubberies and rooftops. He hadn't moved from the patio, even as everyone else moved inside, even when Tonks had tried to coax him back to bed. He hadn't torn his gaze from the blood-red heavens. Red sky at night, shepherd's delight, he remembered the old rhyme. Red sky in the morning…

The back door opened and Remus inhaled deeply. With his wolf smothered with the wolfsbane, his senses weren't keen enough to decipher between scents easily – he only recognised Tonks, Teddy and Harry – though he thought he recognised this one as…

"Hello, Hermione," he said softly, turning his head to see that he was right. She smiled tiredly, holding out a heavy mug of tea for him. It felt almost too hot to his cold hands.

Hermione shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. "It's cold. You should be inside."

Remus said nothing, letting the warmth from the mug seep through his skin. After a long time, he sighed and sipped at the sweet, strong tea. "I let him down, Hermione," he said quietly. "I was supposed to be the one person that thought of him in all this, the one that protected him and I failed."

Hermione's lips pursed as she watched him avoid her gaze. "I don't think everything is what it seems with him and Mr Greyback," she said tentatively. "That is… I don't think it's as black and white as all that. I think we need put a little faith in Harry. He's never steered us wrong before. Except with Professor Snape, but–"

"Even if what Harry says is unbiased truth, if Greyback did rescue him and everything else," Remus cut across her, tone desperate, "that still means he looked to Greyback as a source of comfort, as a kindness in the midst of all that fear and that means his feelings for Greyback were born under pressure. They're not real Hermione."

"Aren't most loves born from madness? You grew closer to Tonks because of working for the Order." Hermione glanced back to the back door, looking thoughtful. "I think he loves Harry," she said wistfully.

Remus felt sick at the thought. "That doesn't make whatever he's done right."

Hermione flushed. "Of course not. But I don't think he'd hurt him – I think he really cares about Harry and if so then…why wouldn't Harry care about him? Especially when no one has ever been solely devoted to him before? I suppose I can understand his feelings. I think perhaps by standing vigilant that it must be Stockholm syndrome or something sinister we are only alienating Harry. We should try to understand him, not criticise his feelings. Then at least if it does all go wrong, we'll be there for him."

Remus opened his mouth to retort, but anything he was about to say was cut off as an almighty roar ripped through the icy quiet of the early morning and slammed into him. Hermione screamed and leapt back out of instinct as Remus was knocked to the ground. He scrambled back, narrowly avoiding Greyback's meaty fist, which crashed into the patio where his leg had been a moment before.

"Alpha, no!" Hemming cried as he bolted from the back door, but Greyback paid no heed. He lunged for Remus again, human-face contorted in a snarl, teeth bared. Remus drew his wand.

"Immobulus!" he cried but Greyback swatted the wood from his hand with a cry of rage.

"Fight me like a fucking wolf you snivelling coward!" he seethed, backhanding Remus hard, sending him sprawling across the muddy grass.

"No! Stop it!" Hermione cried, lurching forward but as she did so, Greyback whirled on his haunches to glare at her.

"You both fucking let them in," he growled darkly, eyes flashing between blue and gold. "You bashed down my door and you let those bastards loose on my home, my pack – there were children in there!"

Hermione stepped back, choking on her anguish, bumping into Hemming, who gripped both her arms tightly and held her to him. He levelled a gaze at his alpha.

"Your mate would want you to show mercy, Alpha," he tried slowly.

Greyback sneered. "My mate didn't see the carnage their stupidity, their self-righteousness unleashed on our pack." He turned back to Remus, who was reaching for his wand. "You hate your own kind so much that you'd see others dead for it?" Greyback snapped.

Remus stopped and stared at him. He grit his teeth, wincing wretchedly. "We didn't realise that there was anyone else trying to get in," he said. "We just wanted to get Harry out – if you'd let him contact us in the first place–"

"Don't you dare," Greyback began, surging forward and seizing Remus by his shirt, hauling him up to the tips of his toes. "Don't you dare blame my pack's suffering on me. It was your doing, Lupin – you and that human girl. You're responsible for the deaths of two of my pack mates! My family. Harry's family. Does that register in your self-pitying little mind?!" His voice echoed across the garden. The wards kept the sound restricted to this area, it wouldn't even reach inside but it was deafening enough that Hermione flinched, her eyes shutting on instinct.

Remus glared down at Fenrir, shoving his wand right in Greyback's face. "Even Fenrir Greyback cannot deflect a curse aimed right between the eyes," Remus murmured darkly. "I should do it. It'd set Harry free – even if he hated me, he'd be free of you."

A low, dangerous growl rumbled in Greyback's throat. His clenched teeth mere inches from Remus's face. "You got all the worst wizard traits in you self-righteous, uncompromising, traitorous – your way is always right and no one else's, yeah? You're gonna kill me, Lupin? To save Harry or because you couldn't save yourself from me?"

Remus' eyes widened. His stomach dropped.

"We didn't mean to get anyone killed," Hermione breathed quickly, looking frantically between Hemming, Greyback and Remus. "Please. We were just so afraid. We love Harry, that's all and we were afraid you were hurting him. We were wrong – I was wrong. We made a mistake and it got people killed." Hermione's voice broke at the last word, tears rolling down her cheeks, her guilt welling up and out like water boiling over. "I'm so sorry…"

Hemming rubbed her shoulder comfortingly, like all men in his inability to stomach a woman crying. He too was angry, desolate but this was what happened when a war was being headed by teenagers. "Alpha," Hemming said at last, voice low, cautious. "We can't expect the humans to forgive us our sins if we cannot forgive theirs."

Greyback sneered up at Lupin, thick fingers tightening in his shirt, shaking with the effort of holding back his fury. "This wretched prick hasn't even got enough forgiveness in him for himself," he grumbled. "I want to wipe the fucking floor with you, Lupin for what you've done to my pack – mistake or no, but that's exactly what you want, isn't it? Another chance to blame me for your suffering? Well I've made my mistakes, boy but at least I'm man enough to own up to them – the bloody girl over there is more man than you."

Suddenly Greyback dropped him hard onto the ground, stepping back with every limb tensed in barely contained anger. "You're bloody lucky Harry cares so much about you," he muttered lowly, curling his fingers into tight fists at his sides.

"If you care so much for him, you'll let him go," Remus said, struggling to his feet, wand still drawn. "You know you should."

Greyback bared his teeth again. "He chose me–"

"Then what have you got to lose?" Remus replied sharply. "He'll come right back and prove me wrong then, won't he?"

Greyback's roar ripped through the air like talons through cloth, his body colliding hard with Remus' again and this time pinning him to the damp grass. "Nothing I do will make me enough for Harry in your eyes because you hate me for your own bloody reasons. You don't know how it works in the pack, boy, but let me enlighten you," Greyback punctuated his words by gripping Remus' throat tight, hearing, feeling, smelling his blood pounding with rage and fear both.

"When you come between the alpha and his mate, his cub, it's suicide," Greyback continued darkly, voice raspy like gravel, spit flecking Remus' face as he spoke. "You're trying to apply human psychology to me and Harry but there's wolf in it as well. What happened out there between him and me isn't for you to judge. We're not talking about that now, we're talking about what you did. What you unleashed on my pack." He squeezed Remus' throat tighter. "Show me your contrition the way your wolf wants you to, omega," Greyback growled derisively, his tone hot with anger but biting, cruel, filled with every trace of bitterness from seeing his fallen and wounded pack-mates.

Remus winced. Submitting to Greyback was… It hurt. He grit his teeth, staring up into burning gold eyes. They'd been flickering back to blue as he'd spoke but now they were are vibrant as liquid galleons. The fingers around his throat squeezed so tightly that Remus swore he felt the cartilage there creak. He choked, clenching his eyes shut and struggled to find the right thing to do. He'd never been allowed much pride, being what he was, but what little he possessed now lay in tatters – that was Greyback's punishment, his revenge for what had happened.

Slowly, his heart and lungs pounding in desperation, he tilted his head to the side and exposed his throat. Greyback growled out his victory and threw his head back, howling sharply before descending. Remus flinched, tensing for the bite, for the tearing of flesh – but it never came. When he opened his eyes, Fenrir was pushing off him with a grunt. Reducing him to subservience and fear to a man he blamed his unfortunate life on was worse punishment than death. And he likely knows you're too pathetic to survive any physical punishment he might exact on another werewolf, he thought wretchedly.

"Don't come between us, Lupin or I'll rip you a new one. I've learned not to forgive twice," Greyback murmured, stalking toward the back door. The other three didn't so much as breathe until he'd vanished back into the house.

---

When Harry awoke next, the curtain over the door was tinged with light creeping through some of the fibres. Not much, not enough to disturb the secluded dimness of the den, but just enough so that he knew it was daytime. Harry blinked, reaching out blindly for his glasses and pulling them on. Fenrir was still between him and the door, naked as the day he was born but he wasn't looking at him, hadn't realised Harry was awake yet, it seemed.

Their tiny son was completely naked, aside from his cloth nappy, staring up at Fenrir, his pale pink skin a stark contrast to Fenrir's tanned, hairy body. Harry watched as the alpha wolf brushed his knuckles against the baby's belly, that tiny face tugging up into an attempt at a smile. The baby boy cooed happily. Fenrir smiled. A wide, natural, handsome smile that made something in Harry's chest ache at the purity of it. He must've gasped, for Fenrir looked up at him then, his blue eyes warm.

"He's perfect, Harry," the man said, his voice husky and raw. "He looks just like you. Thank you."

Harry's breathing took a moment to return to him. He thought he'd never hear that voice again. He'd been afraid all this time that the reason Fenrir had taken so long to come to him was because, for some reason, he couldn't. He swallowed back the bile that swelled at the thought of losing him and all the complicated emotions and thoughts that came along with that. He wasn't ready to think about things seriously, to consider rational thought and the world outside the intimacy of their den. He nodded, holding the man's gaze for a moment, before looking down at their son.

"He's small," Harry said. He couldn't think of anything else to say.

Fenrir chuckled. "I told you, all werewolf babies are," he assured him. "He's perfectly proportioned. By the time he's a year old he'll be the size of a human baby at that age. There's nothing wrong with him, you…" He faltered, looking pained for a moment. "You did good. Fucking amazingly, considering." The man reached out, his knuckles brushing along Harry's belly. It was flat again, but not as defined as before, still soft from the weight he'd been carrying for months. Harry didn't want to look at it.

"I should've been there," was all the alpha could say.

Harry shook his head. There was no sense in going over that. "I all but forced you to go," he said quietly. "I didn't give you much choice. And anyway, no one could've predicted what was about to happen." Fenrir didn't seem at all appeased by this. Harry kept his gaze focussed on his son, trying to sieve through all the things racing through his mind, all the words that needed to be said. Everything he'd promised he'd say to Fenrir if they saw each other again. He just didn't know where to begin.

"Ulric saved us both," he said at last. "I was knocked down. I thought I'd…I'd lost him," he gestured to their son, jaw tensing with pain as he remembered the agony of that moment, thinking it had all been for nothing. "Weylyn, he was on me, I was bleeding but Ulric he…he got in the way. He died saving us both." Only when he had finished speaking did he lift his gaze to Fenrir's. Those blue eyes were cloudy with thought but no emotion showed on his face. He said nothing, even as his face darkened.

Harry chewed the inside of his mouth. "They didn't mean for it to happen," he blurted out urgently. "Remus, Hermione and Ron, I mean. They thought I was in trouble. They thought you were holding me hostage or worse. They didn't know that by lowering the wards to get to me they were letting Conall and the others in. Fenrir, they were only trying to help me." His voice was quite desperate toward the end, but when he finished, though Fenrir's face had darkened, he said nothing for a long time.

The alpha rolled onto his back, pulling their baby son onto his chest and staring down, watching the baby's face as his piercing green eyes moved between the two of them, obviously learning them both. "When I realised something was wrong I apparated away. But because of the protective charms on the valley, you can't apparate there directly. I had to apparate to Shae and run the entire way…"

Harry sat up, looking down at Fenrir and their son. Stowed away in here away from the world, it was a shock to remember what had really happened out there, what was still happening.

"By the time I got there, everything was covered in blood," Fenrir breathed quietly. "The rogues' corpses were sprawled across the grass like slaughtered sheep. I saw Ulric's…body, Rafe was dead too – you didn't know him that well. Plenty wounded…"

"Echo and Draco?" Harry interrupted, unable to stand it any longer. Weaving in and out of 'conscious' thought had addled his mind, but he still couldn't believe he had forgotten them, instincts or no! He winced, mentally berating himself. His instinct-high must've affected him more deeply than he thought, suppressing memories and feelings that would've endangered him and his cub before, when they were alone. Now Fenrir was beside him, it seemed things were rushing back to him in thick, disorientating waves. He didn't know what he thought about that.

"Echo was wounded badly," Fenrir said, not looking at Harry. "The Malfoy boy was still unconscious when I left, but Amoux was tending him. He was stable at least. She and Accalia did a good job protecting the kids. They're all fine."

Harry swallowed, his hands curling into tight fists on his knees. He didn't realise they were trembling with tension until one of Fenrir's hands landed on top of one of them, stilling him. He could not look up though, not when it had been his fault that two of their pack-mates had died; more names to the endless list of tragedies in this war. Fenrir, who had already lost so much had almost lost his pack and everything he had worked to preserve, all because they had stood between Harry and Conall. It was no different to the people like Moody and the others, dying because they stood between him and Voldemort.

Gritting his teeth, Harry felt bile rise again in his throat like a searing tide of acid. Who would die next because of him? Who would suffer?

Movement jerked him from his bitter thoughts but before he could register them, Fenrir had gripped his chin so firmly it was only just not painful, forcing him to meet his gaze. He was sitting up too now, their son – his and Fenrir Greyback's son looking so small in the crook of his arm, yawning widely, not a care in the world. Untouched by all the trauma he'd unknowingly suffered. Pure and untainted by things like death, Conall and Voldemort.

"You don't smell right when you're upset," the alpha wolf said, his voice low and rough.

Harry snorted, trying for amused and indifferent but his words sounded hollow when he spoke. "Sorry, I did have a sponge bath." That thumb and forefinger gripped his chin harder. He stared up into those eyes again.

"You didn't ask for any of this," Fenrir growled.

Harry sighed. "No, but I could've prevented some of it. Could've stopped it from getting worse–"

"How? How could you?" Fenrir demanded gruffly. "I confined you to that valley, I stopped you from heading out there on your bloody quest against Tergarletum so if anyone dies at his hand, I am to blame. Blame me."

"How can I blame you for wanting to protect me?" Harry demanded, frustrated, angry, hurting from the inside out. "If you'd let me out I might've been killed, our son might've been killed." He gestured to the baby in his grasp. "You were doing what you thought was right–"

"As were you!" Fenrir snapped.

Harry laughed without humour. "I was fucking scared. I know that now. I was too comfortable, too content to stay hidden away from my problems. I used our son as an excuse to shirk my duties."

Fenrir sneered. "Listen to you. You sound like bloody Lupin. Your 'duties'. And if our son had been killed because you rushed out like a pillock? What then? Your instincts made you feel unable or unwilling to contact the outside world for a reason. You were protecting him!"

Harry wanted to drop his gaze, but Fenrir had his chin in a bruising grip now. He had no answer to that argument, so he simply said, "And the valley? How can I blame what happened there on you? Remus and Hermione came there because of my stupidity, my thoughtlessness. I should've known they'd think something was wrong if they didn't see me for months. I should've asked you to bring them to me sooner! If I had just thought about something besides myself for once they'd never have dropped the wards and Conall would never have got in!"

Their son was fussing now, upset by their harsh tones. Fenrir stared down at him, as if unsure of what to do. After a moment, he hauled the tot over his shoulder, patting his back firmly. Harry winced.

"Careful, he's only small," he began. Fenrir looked so big compared to the tiny boy.

"I've held a cub before," Fenrir retorted gruffly, annoyed. "He's tougher than he looks. He won't break." Sure enough, after a moment or two, the baby gave a long, deep belch. It sounded like he needed it and immediately calmed again. Feeling like a stupid chastised child, Harry swatted Fenrir's hand away from him and shuffled back to lean against the far side of the cupboard, knees up to his chest. He focused on the curtain, on the individual fibres he could see thanks to the sun against the opposite side.

A deafening, awkward quiet fell. They hadn't suffered a silence this uncomfortable in so long that it made Harry uneasy to endure. He hadn't felt this estranged or distanced from Fenrir, from everyone for so long…

Fenrir audibly sniffed at the air. "I've upset you."

Harry grit his teeth, grinding them together. "I'm not upset," he said quickly, "I'm fucking pissed off." He forced himself to look at Fenrir. "You've never treated me like a stupid child that doesn't know his arse from his elbow before. Now you are. I don't like it." He watched as Fenrir rubbed their son's back a few more times, coaxing out another little burp. The tiny body relaxed and Fenrir laid him down in the little nest of duvets, tucking his blanket back round him.

Harry reached for him.

"You should let him be once and a while," Fenrir said, "you'll make him fuss when you do need to put him down-"

"Don't tell me when I can and can't hold him," Harry said dangerously, pulling his son to his chest. He curled up, back against the wall, the baby resting against his drawn up legs with Harry's arms around him for support. He yawned widely, unaffected it seemed by tension now he was more comfortable. His big green eyes blinked up at Harry sleepily.

"You can't anticipate what humans might take it in their head to do," Fenrir said after some time, gruff and harsh as ever. "You can't be blamed. If you start doing that you might as well blame me for not killing Conall and the others when they first made a nuisance of themselves." He stared at Harry. "Do you blame me?"

Harry wanted to bark that yes, he did. He felt bitter and annoyed by Fenrir's cavalier 'correction' of Harry's parenting. But he was not that cruel and he didn't blame him in all honesty, not really. Could Fenrir not understand why everything that had happened was his, Harry's fault? He sighed heavily. "I don't blame you," he muttered at last.

Fenrir grunted. "Well then let me tell you, the whole world isn't dependant on your everyday decisions. Men and women, werewolves, dark wizards, they make their choices and yeah, some things we do may aggravate things but we don't make them do anything. The pack chose to stand between you and Conall. I chose to stand between you and Tergarletum. He chose to kill your parents when you were barely a year old. If you want to blame anyone, blame him. Get pissy with him and get even."

Harry lifted his gaze slowly. Fenrir wasn't the type to coddle or sugar-coat things. He cared about Harry's well-being, he knew that, but in spite of that, he told it as it was. To hear him, blunt, crude and straight-forward Fenrir Greyback, say things like this, it made them easier to believe. He was saying it because he thought it was right, not because he thought it would make Harry feel better. That knowledge dulled his anger a fraction.

The baby boy in his arms fidgeted, beginning to whimper around his dummy.

"He's hungry," Fenrir said.

Harry scowled at him; irritated that the git seemed to be able to sense what his son wanted when he was the one that had carried him for months. Shouldn't I be the one that just instinctively knows what to do? He growled inwardly.

"He's greedy," Harry muttered.

"Just like his alpha," Fenrir said with a smirk.

Harry did not smile back. "Does that make me 'Dad' then?"

With a chuckle, Fenrir merely said dismissively, "He can call you whatever you want, it's just a name, it won't change what or who you are, pet."

Not meeting Fenrir's eyes, Harry pulled the boy to his chest. He shuffled so his knees would protect some of his modesty and reached for the fur cloak to cover himself. Fenrir's hand landed flat on it, stopping him from taking it.

"I want to see," the wolf said, predatorily but not sexually so. He too was on an instinct-high, dominant and demanding.

"Good for you," Harry snapped, surrendering the cloak and instead pulling the baby's blanket up across his chest so he could still deny Fenrir the view.

Harry understood what Fenrir was feeling, for he felt his own instincts prickling at the back of his mind – he just wouldn't surrender to it. Not when Fenrir was being such an arse. He was the submissive partner by nature and he even (secretly) enjoyed being submissive in Fenrir's bed, able to relax and let go, let someone else take care of him. But he was not a submissive anywhere else. He never would be, he understood that now and it imbued him with confidence. He and Fenrir, they were equals.

Plucking the dummy out of his son's mouth, Harry guided him to his chest. He winced at the initial tugging pull but then rested his head against the wall, eyes closed. It was embarrassing, emasculating – but his instincts crowed proudly whenever it happened and he felt an odd…connection too, the latter making it slightly (if only slightly) relaxing. Fenrir, Remus and everyone else might doubt his abilities as a parent, but this was the one thing he could do that none of them could. His inner wolf was smug at that. It was still embarrassing though.

When he felt Fenrir move, his eyes snapped open and on impulse, he growled with bared teeth as he saw the alpha shifting closer. Fenrir growled back, but it was a half-hearted, grumpy sound, as if he knew this was a place where he could not challenge his mate.

"I don't like it when you hide yourself from me," Fenrir grunted.

"And I don't like it when you, the biggest oaf I've ever met tries to tell me how to take care of my son who I had to bring into this world all by myself!" Harry snapped. Any satisfaction he may have felt upon being right, however, dissipated when he saw the hurt flicker behind Fenrir's eyes. Fenrir had wanted to be there, had wanted to protect them from that and blamed himself that he had not. He's hurting too, his mind supplied; he has just lost people as well. He saw their bodies like you did. He's just dealing with it in his own way.

"He eats a lot," Harry said quietly, trying to chase away the awkward silence. The boy was sucking as voraciously as ever, little fingers curling against Harry's chest. He was warm and soft. Harry smiled when he heard a small hiccup. When Fenrir shifted closer this time, though Harry watched him, he did not stop him. The man even drew the fur up around him like a blanket, like some sort of peace offering as he leant back against the wall too and looked down. It took everything in Harry to let him look and not cringe away – for many reasons, but he managed. Just.

"That's good," Fenrir said distantly, brushing a huge knuckle against Little Bludger's forehead. "He has red in his hair."

"From my mum," Harry murmured, thinking of his mother and father both, wondering just what they would've said if they were here now. They wouldn't be happy, Harry knew that, but they would support him, he was sure of it. He wrapped his arms tighter round his son. The baby gurgled, but did not stop drinking. "He…he has my eyes too," he said, somewhat sheepishly. But when he looked up, Fenrir didn't look displeased.

"I saw." Fenrir Greyback, man of few words stared into Harry's eyes then, a part of him distant and far away, the part that was suffering and lost. Harry could see everything in that cloud of ice-blue. Fear, pain, loss, but also happiness and relief – and guilt to be feeling that happiness. Harry thought he understood where that was coming from. They had lost so much but how could they not be happy with their son? Right now, in their warm den, he was the centre of their world. Everything else just fell away like debris from a launched rocket.

Blinking up at Fenrir pensively for a moment, Harry drank in the emotions there that he swore only he would ever see, read the words that would never be said. Fenrir was not the type of man to say them, but at moments like these, he didn't need to. Harry craned his head and slid his lips over Fenrir's. That mouth was firm and a little bristly, warm and tense under his for a moment with surprise, before it pressed back. It was a small, deep but sexless kiss, one of raw emotion and feeling. Right now, they understood each other just fine.

The taste was only of spit and warmth, nothing to intrude and as ever, Harry's tongue slid in first, caressing the length of Fenrir's, flickering against the underside. Everything was slow, languid. Like a pleasurable morning stretch. An odd sound shuddered from Harry's mouth into the kiss and Fenrir grumbled back, content, Harry thought. When their lips parted, Harry's lashes fluttered, his eyes roving Fenrir's mouth, then his face, before lifting to focus on his eyes again at last.

With his cheeks burning, Harry gathered Fenrir's taste off his lips with a flicker of his tongue. "What took you so long to come back?" he asked, voice low and husky.

Fenrir held his gaze a moment, before smiling ruefully. A large hand came up to cup the back of Harry's neck, thumb caressing his marked throat in his way of affection. "Missed me, did you, pet?" he chuckled. But then his face was suddenly serious, his thumb stroking thoughtfully as he said, "did you think I'd abandoned you?"

Harry said nothing, just waited for a proper answer. In truth, he wasn't sure what he'd been thinking since the moment he'd collapsed on the bed in their den and…his face twisted with discomfiture…gave birth! Urgh, he really didn't like that word. But his thoughts had all been a swirl of confusion, smothered and simplified by instincts. He didn't know how to answer Fenrir's question.

Luckily, Fenrir didn't seem to expect one.

"You have no idea what it was like," Fenrir said gruffly. "Walking in after seeing the valley littered with blood and corpses, only to find that Malfoy boy sprawled across the floor, Conall's corpse mutilated next to our bed…" He grit his teeth. "Our bed, covered in your blood and…"

Harry winced, trying hard to imagine the state their den must've been in.

"Echo calls it a blood rage, what I went into," Fenrir continued. "I transformed at the sight and smell of your blood, at the thought of you missing and ripped what was left of Conall to shreds until the bits of him that were left didn't even look like flesh any longer." The alpha's eyes glowed dangerously at the memory of the carnage and for a second, Harry saw the 'monster' everyone thought was Fenrir Greyback in those eyes. It was gone as soon as it came, however, overcome by the man he'd come to know over the last few months.

"I calmed down a bit once I'd torn him up, fucking pig," Fenrir sneered. "Enough to focus, for a bit at least." He winced then. "I knew they had you, your Lupin and the humans. But I didn't know what they'd do to you with you in your feral state. I should've stayed; I should've helped my pack but I… I couldn't even think. I couldn't…" He grit his teeth. "I needed to get to you. I knew you'd whelped and I needed…"

Needed to be with you, Harry thought he was about to say, but just couldn't.

Harry saw guilt again there before Fenrir shielded it from him – visibly at least. The bond between them meant that nothing could ever be completely hidden after all. He could taste Fenrir's self-reproach on the air like bitter ash on his tongue. Fenrir felt like he had failed his pack somehow, by choosing Harry over them.

"I'm no expert on werewolf behaviour," Harry muttered, "But even I know when cubs are born the whole pack goes mental. You were as lost to it as I was, there was no way you could've been expected to act responsibly, or even think clearly enough to try and fight the instinct to find us." He moistened his suddenly dry lips again, steeling himself to say what Fenrir needed to hear, Harry's own pride be damned. "And we did need you, both of us."

He wanted to say more, to try and convey the abandonment and loneliness, the confusion he had felt. The bone-deep aching pain he'd suffered. But he couldn't. There weren't even words for that feeling and if there were, he didn't know them.

The hand against his nape tightened in a comforting way. He closed his eyes and just relished the warm roughness of that skin against his.

"Echo had it all under control," Fenrir continued. "But I left them to go find your humans and then when I realised you were truly gone, that I was too late, I left them again. If any of them wish to challenge my position, they are all well within their right…"

Harry flinched. "Overthrow you, you mean, as alpha?" That thought made his stomach churn. Fenrir had already lost so much, if he lost his pack because he'd come after him, Harry didn't know if he could bear it. "When we were in school, the textbooks tried to tell us that a werewolf pack was like a wolf pack," he began, remembering Snape's drawling voice and gloating pleasure as he'd taught the subject while Remus had been absent. A prickle of loathing at the thought of Snape tugged at his thoughts, but he brushed them away, for now, remembering the truth of the man belatedly.

"There are similarities, of course, but it's not entirely the same," he pressed on. "You were absent before, when you went after the hunters and again when you went to Azkaban and they were still waiting for you to return. You're always telling me that it's like a family, that they all treasure me. But they treasure you too! They adore you! They respect you. How could you think they'd turn their backs on you now?" His voice had an edge of desperation and was a fraction too high towards the end but Fenrir made no comment on it. The alpha regarded Harry warmly, appreciatively.

Harry continued, "They know what it feels like to be taken over by their instincts just as much as you do. They'll understand." His own belief in his words startled him. After all these months he had faith in the people in that valley, just as much as he had in Ron, Hermione and Remus. They were family. He had watched them bleed for him, just as readily as his friends. He swallowed hard around the lump that rose in his throat at the thought.

"You're a good Alpha Mate, you know," Fenrir rumbled pensively, "another reason I was right to pick you."

Harry snorted. "I picked you as well, remember," he said, a little defensively.

Fenrir smirked, his eyes warm in the dimness, like the ocean in summer, somewhere far away from England that Harry could only imagine. "Yes, I remember." Leaning his head back against the wall, he watched both Harry and their son in thoughtful silence, his arms folded slightly and resting on his drawn up knees. He looked huge, too huge in the close quarters of the cupboard. Powerful and muscular, dangerous and yet here he was, sidled up against Harry and looking at him as if he were the most precious thing in the world. Harry flushed darkly at the sight, still unaccustomed to it and unsure how to return such blatant devotion.

Fenrir, for many reasons, was a man of few words and Harry, by the same token, just didn't know how to articulate the whirlwind of emotions rushing through him. He never had been able to. Still just eighteen, his mind supplied distantly, despite everything that's happened, you're still just eighteen.

He peeked up at Fenrir out of the corner of his eye, wondering if either of them would live long enough to decipher just what was going on between them. He doubted there were enough years in the whole fabric of time, in all honesty. Then he remembered what his friends had asked him, regarding what he would have done, had he not been tied to Fenrir, emotionally and physically. And that begged the question, what would happen to them after all this was over?

A soft contented gurgle ushered up from the sleepy little body in his arms, distracting Harry from his thoughts. He used the corner of the swaddling cloth to wipe the boy's mouth, then quickly mopped up the line of fluid leaking down his chest that had been spilled, hoping Fenrir didn't see.

"You don't have to be ashamed, you know," the wolf grunted. Clearly he had seen. "I watched my mother do it for my brothers and sister. You're still a man, just like he was."

"Then why do you say 'mother' when you talk about him?" Harry muttered. "I thought you called him Dad?"

Fenrir frowned. "I did. I only mention him as my mother so it's easier for you to understand which parent I'm talking about. You weren't brought up like me after all; you were raised to think that parents could only be a man and a woman. You're only uncertain because you were raised by bigoted muggles. My Dad had no issues with his masculinity, just because he was the sub with all the trimmings."

Harry ignored him, it was on the tip of his tongue to say that normal men didn't lactate, but then what was normal for him was different for Fenrir. It was all just odd, he thought and he didn't think anyone would be able to convince him otherwise. He didn't feel submissive, he didn't feel subservient or weak, on the contrary, he had never felt so strong thanks to that display of magic in the valley. But when it came down to doing this, he couldn't help but feel awkward. It helped that his chest still looked the same though, granted. Maybe if he didn't have to worry about what Hermione, Ron, Remus and Tonks might be thinking, maybe if he didn't have his aunt and uncle's voices swimming through his mind hissing freak…

"He needs a name," Harry said quickly as he rolled the baby over so that he lay with his belly against Harry's still drawn-up knees. Harry rubbed his back. He thought he heard Fenrir mutter "harder" and paused, momentarily annoyed, before he acquiesced, rubbing in firmer, steady motions. When he glanced up, Fenrir looked…stunned, but pleased at the same time.

"You didn't name him?" he asked, in the usual gruff tone that was belied by the light in his eyes. Harry smirked. It was unlike Fenrir to look so full of yearning, when it wasn't sexual anyway. There was something to what his pack-mates had said, about it being tradition that the alpha named the children. Fenrir had no doubt thought Harry would have dismissed their traditions. Harry smiled fondly at the thought, wondering if Fenrir had had a name planned all this time but had been too proud to say so.

"I have it on good authority that that's your job," he mused. The baby boy gave a deep burp, spitting up as he did so on Harry's bare knees. Harry winced, seizing one of the cloth nappies piled in the corner (courtesy of Kreacher) to wipe away the undigested milk. "Besides," Harry murmured, almost under his breath, "I want you to."

The child started to fuss and Harry turned him back over, popping the dummy in and shuffling forward to lie down in the nest of blankets with him. After a moment, Fenrir lay down beside them both on his side, head propped up on his hand as he looked down at the baby curled up between them.

"The pack usually visit the cubs and give them their blessings and gifts when they are given names," Fenrir explained.

Harry wondered if Fenrir was hinting that they should return to the valley first, but his instincts prickled at the thought of leaving the den. He couldn't think outside of his cupboard at the moment.

"Kirian," Fenrir suggested. The said boy sucked on his dummy, staring up at him, apparently enthralled by his deep, gravelly voice. Harry thought he understood the feeling. He cocked his head and mulled the name over in his mind for a moment.

"Kirian," Harry repeated thoughtfully. The baby's eyes flicked to him at the sound of his voice, he seemed to want to turn his head to him, but didn't have quite the control or strength yet. He scowled when he couldn't look at Harry properly. Harry smirked, reaching across and turning that little head to him. The baby wriggled, apparently pleased. He whimpered contently through his dummy.

"It means 'one born in a dark place' or something like that," Fenrir muttered.

Harry snorted. "Physically and metaphorically," he muttered, aiding his son in turning back to look at Fenrir. It did suit him, the meaning and the sound. He seemed to be following their voices, learning them, his little nose twitching as he took in their scents.

"Kirian Potter Greyback?" he said.

"Mmm," Greyback growled softly, "I do like your name against mine." He chuckled, probably secretly pleased that Harry wasn't afraid or ashamed to include him in their son's name.

Harry rolled his eyes, but put up little protest when the wolf leant over, smoothing a stubbly kiss across his lips. He hummed, his tongue sliding out to meet Fenrir's in a slow, appreciative caress. When the gentle kiss broke, Harry ducked his head, sighing softly, safe, warm and tired. "I missed you," he muttered, too dazed to feel embarrassed. He slid further down into the duvets and curled around Kirian.

"You too, pet," Fenrir answered gruffly, pulling the fur cloak around his family and laying down himself. Harry squirmed in a good way when he felt a mouth nuzzle at his hair. Everything was uncomplicated again inside his head. Fuzzy around the edges like a dream. His body was light, healing and sleepy. How long would it be before his responsibilities and the real world intruded again?

"Mmm, nice," he muttered, half-asleep already, his forehead against Fenrir's chest, Kirian safe and warm between their two bodies. "…being tak'n care of," he added. He heard Fenrir's warm, gravelly voice, but could not make sense of the words he uttered before he tumbled in to sleep again.

~To Be Continued…

---

A/N: Kirian - one who is born in a dark place - Kih (as in kittens) Ree (as in reed) Un (as you say the end of 'London'). I struggled for a name for the cub as I didn't want something overly elaborate and unrealistic. I loved this name as soon as I found it. Hope you guys do too :)

Until next week~

Love

Shigure-san

x chuu x