AN: Crossposted from ao3, which is the primary upload site for updates.
There is material in here that gives this story the M rating, please be advised that this could include items of a violent or sexual nature, and explicit language. We are adults writing for an adult audience. Mind the rating and the above warning. You have chosen to read this fic at your own discretion.
There aren't many places that Laurel hates going to, but Frenzy's in Disim Alley is near the top of the list. Hell, Disim Alley itself is too. The damned place is everything the Ministry accuses Knockturn to be but worse. The Alley might like to dress up as the place to be for the best nightlife, but take a closer inspection and the rot starts to show under the glitter and fairy dust.
Heading into the club and straight to the bar, she spots her current mission target at one of the tables by the wall. Raul Moretti always comes to Frenzy's on Saturday nights and cruises for women. He always leaves with someone too. With the rumors about him, it makes Laurel suspicious of his success.
Scanning the rest of the club, she also spots fucking Fenrir Greyback with a few members of the pack not too far away from her target as well. There's Peter Rowan on his left side nursing a glass of amber liquid, Ciprian Sala on his other side chattering away, and Silas Crump silently reading a book. She hasn't seen them since the full moon just a few days ago, but that's not surprising when she's trying to balance her orders from the Order and her selfish want for a pack of her own. She had seen Fenrir then too, during the run she'd gone on with them and been in his bed before he'd sent her out to shift as the moon rose high in the sky.
It's like Fenrir can feel her eyes on him; his head snaps up to settle on her immediately. She narrows her eyes at him and he raises a brow in recognition. Even though she's glamoured her appearance and blocked her scent, he can still pick her out in a crowded room. She doesn't understand how he does it. Just like she doesn't understand how he always knows when she's on a risky mission for the Order.
Laurel breathes a silent sigh of relief when he finally takes his eyes off her and she orders a drink. She already draws enough attention with her glamoured blonde hair and short red dress, she doesn't need him drawing even more attention to her. Getting her drink, she takes a table near her target and settles in. Her fake looks are exactly her target's type. Sipping her drink, she mentally goes over what information she knows about him.
Moretti is a mid-ranking member of the Wizengamot Administration Services and has been selling information to the highest bidder for decades. According to Moody, he's also gotten up to some shady shit with his brother that the Aurors could never pin on either one of them. There's rumors that he's been selling information to the Death Eaters as far back as during the first war and even more disturbing rumors that he's involved in some kind of trafficking operation. Dumbledore hopes she can pull that information from his head by any means necessary seeing as how Severus can't get close enough to do so with Voldemort breathing down his neck.
Movement in front of her pulls her from her thoughts and she blinks lazily at Fenrir standing over her table. There's a hush at the tables around her, but she ignores them.
"May I help you, sir?"
He pulls the chair next to her out, spinning it to cross his arms over the back and leaning in with a grin. "Just trying to see what a pretty bird like you is doin' in a place like Frenzy's. You have a name love?"
"Not that I was offering, but it's Ellie." She takes a sip from her drink and looks away, trying for as uninterested in him as possible. Her wolf rolls over, the ghost sensation of fur against her ankles and she swats absently at her. No time for that when they have a target.
"Oh, it's lovely to see you, Laurel," the obstinate man murmurs, and her fingers tighten on the glass, taking another drink. How the hell had he managed that with hardly a string of words?
"You never gave me your name," she points out in feigned disinterest.
"Fenrir, love," he replies with a wolfish grin as he plays along. He knows this game, and it's a bit of a dig at how he always manages to find her, regardless of the disguise. Its also a thrill, seeing how long it takes for him to clock her.
There's an uptick in murmurs from the tables around them, but she doesn't let the fear she can smell phase her. Everyone has that reaction to even hearing the other werewolf's name. His monstrous reputation proceeds him after all.
Laurel makes sure to still in false fear, setting her drink down with a fake tremor. His grin widens because he knows she doesn't fear him.
"Nice to meet you, Fenrir," she replies with trepidation in her voice.
He leans forward, gaze meeting her eyes, they're the one thing she doesn't cover up with a glamor and another, sour scent reaches her nose and she recoils from the scent, knowing that it looks like she's leaned away from Fenrir in fear with the appearance of someone to back her up.
"Ma'am, is this… person, bothering you?" It's Moretti, which is a blessing in disguise, she needs to get this information tonight and pass it on.
"Oh, I, ah, I think he was just planning to leave," she keeps a tremor in her voice, glancing at Fenrir and then up at Moretti, her lips parting and blinking false tears out of her vision. Appealing to a supposed white knight was always easy.
Fenrir's grin turns into a smirk as he coolly eyes Moretti. Moretti's scent sours even more in fear even as he tries to be brave in the face of being the sole attention of a monster like Greyback.
"Yeah, I was. Nice to meet you, Ellie," he says before striding away, leaving behind the scent of amusement.
"Are you okay, miss?" Moretti asks charmingly.
Laurel shakes her head, mostly to get the scent of Fenrir out of her nose and gives Moretti a bit of a pout. "I am so terribly sorry, I don't know why he was interested." Lies, she thinks, half amused and she can smell the spike of amusement from Fenrir's table as everyone can hear her answers and they know damn well that Fenrir has been courting her into the pack for ages.
"Well, may I offer you another drink, one that he's not been near?" Moretti holds out his own full glass, and Laurel can small how interested he is. She shrugs internally. If he's offering, it's possibly a ploy of his own, but she knows that she can get out of most encounters unscathed.
"I'd be happy to," she says breathlessly, taking the glass from him and knocking back a decent swallow.
There's a faint tang of peppermint before it's quickly drowned out by the alcohol. She contains a frown as she sets the glass on the table. Peppermint is used in most Love Potions. She smiles at Moretti when all she really wants to do is rip his throat out.
With her teeth.
"Thank you for the save and the drink, Mister..." she trails off, pretending not to know his name.
"You're quite welcome, miss. I'm Raul, I just couldn't leave a beautiful woman to be harassed by people like that," he says in what she supposes is his version of charm. She bites back the amusement she feels rising. How would he react to the knowledge that she's one of those people? She kind of wants to find out, but she's been very careful not to let her status leak out to the general public.
He settles in the chair Fenrir was previously and her wolf snarls grumpily in her head as Moretti's scent covers Fenrir's, she swats it again. Needy thing. Every time she's around the other wolf, her wolf just wants to roll over and show her belly. Laurel doesn't understand why she reacts like that to him. And it is just Fenrir she reacts that way to.
"So very nice to meet you, Raul. I'm Ellie."
"A pretty name for a pretty girl."
"You're very kind, Mister Raul," she bats her eyelashes, playing with the glass, angling herself towards him. All to get him interested and willing to take her out back. "Do you think so?"
"You are very pretty, Ellie," he reaches out to play with a dropped lock of curl hanging over her shoulder, tucking it behind her ear and brushing his hand over her bare shoulder. "We don't see very many like you in Frenzy's. I'd expect to see you near Whimsic."
She forces a laugh, leaning into the touch, ignoring the upset whines from her wolf and the growls from the table of Fenrir's packmates. She's got a job to do. "Well, I can't seem to find what I've been looking for in Whimsic, and someone suggested coming here. I hope my friend wasn't wrong though, if Greyback is here."
"What have you been looking for?" he asks curiously. He smells interested with a scent of rising greed scouring his scent even more.
She looks at him from under her lashes as his hand slides down to caress her wrist. Her wolf growls at the bolder touch and she flicks her firmly on the nose.
"I'm just looking for something a little different," she replies a little coyly.
She wiggles her fingers under Moretti's, letting him pin them still and she giggles. Moretti hums, picking her hand up and kissing the back of it with a wink.
"Well, Frenzy's can provide a good time, but I certainly can help for different."
Laurel sucks in a breath, thankful that her scent blockers are working so that the rest of the Greybacks don't scent her revulsion. Merlin knows how Fenrir does it, but she can trust that at least he won't break her cover. He never has before. "Well, that would be nice," she breathes. "When could you do different?"
"If we finish our drinks up, I can show you right now," Moretti says, picking up her original drink and downing it, leaving her with the peppermint-themed drink. She picks it up and sips, crossing her ankles and 'accidentally' brushing them against Moretti's leg.
"Are you sure? I don't want to be a bother..."
"You're no bother, beautiful," he reassures.
She lets her posture relax as if his words actually reassured her, but she's still wary of whatever ploy he has brewing. She takes a bigger gulp of the drink, almost finishing it. He still smells interested, with a hint of glee and triumph slowly tinting his scent.
"Would you like to get out of here, beautiful?" he asks oddly intent.
She hums, nodding once and stepping out the door with Moretti helping her into her coat. This is the… back door, and her vision goes a bit blurry, causing her to stumble. Something isn't right, and Laurel swallows hard. She just needs to take his memories and figure out what he did to her.
"Easy there, beautiful," He helps her into the alleyway and her senses kick into overdrive, making her gag and shudder a little bit. Moretti's scent spikes hard in want, and interest and she whines, because that is not a nice scent. He has done some terrible things and she wants to be away. She braces herself to Apparate, and stops because she can't. She needs the information or she'll never hear the end of it from the Order.
"You okay, beautiful?" Moretti asks. There's no concern in his scent, only greed and she hates this man. This mission too.
"I'm-I'm fine," she says, stumbling over her words.
She blinks and then he's pressing her against the wall of the alleyway. Her wolf whines in her head and she barely stops herself from echoing her. She blinks up at him, shivering at his touch even though it's not the touch she wants. She wants... she wants Fenrir. Her wolf wants Fenrir. Where is he? There's a strong wave of warmth spreading from the center of her chest and dipping lower and lower the longer she stands there with Moretti touching her.
It's hard to think, but she has a mission and she needs to complete it.
Moretti is leaning in and she grips the handle of her wand, ready to rip the information out when Moretti is ripped away from her and she lurches forwards with a snarl, running face first into a broad chest and she inhales and relaxes because this is Fenrir. She had wanted Fenrir and he came. Her wolf whines happily, and she doesn't even try to hold that one in, whining and pressing her face against his shirt as the heat reaches the pit of her stomach. She can feel herself grow wetter as she's hold on, rubbing her face against his shirt and hearing a low growl resonate nearly inaudibly through him and into her.
"Darlin', what's wrong, what happened. I can't fucking smell— Take him away and figure out what he used to dose her," he snarls and the rest of the packmates salute and scatter, barring Peter who stays with Fenrir and sets up further down the alleyway.
"Fenrir," she pants, dropping her wand and holding onto his arms. "I can't— I don't know—"
"Easy now, Hey hush, darlin'. Let's not leave this here." He crouches to grab her wand and she wants— she wants.
"Fenrir."
He scoops up her wand, sliding it up his sleeve as he straightens. He steps closer and she digs her nails into his arms and tries to drag him closer.
"Fenrir," she whines again.
"Why can't I smell you?" he demands.
She blinks heavily because that doesn't make any sense. He can always smell her. It doesn't matter how she tries to hide herself, Fenrir can always pick her out of the crowd.
"Laurel."
"Ne-necklace," she pants, "scent blocker."
"Take it off."
She reaches up and fumbles with the short golden chain around her neck. It takes a few tries before it comes undone. Fenrir immediately presses his nose against her pulse point and she sighs, sliding her arms around his shoulders.
He stills and pulls away and she whines at the loss. Her wolf echoing her. Why did he pull away? He always tries to do that, why is this time different?
"F-Fenrir?" She pressed close against him, her own face close to his neck and it smells safe to hide there, somewhere she doesn't have to think if she hides her face against that skin.
He stops her with a firm hand on her cheek, squeezing a bit to keep her from moving. Why now, why this time does he decide to push her away? She shifts and he squeezes again and Laurel shudders at the wave of arousal, feeling how wet she is, throbbing between her legs. This has to be a heat, and she's worked too hard to let this get out of hand. If she's fucked then it'll be a shorter version, and she knows that she's smelled Peter be interested in her. He'd be a good option.
...She wants Fenrir more.
"If you won't then Peter can help me," she baits him, upset now that he won't come and just fuck her. The other man shifts, that same scent of arousal rising but he remains facing away, not turning to look at them and Fenrir growls, deep within his chest and making her pant harder, squirming to get her panties off.
"Laurel, we've been sharin' heats before, is this a normal one?"
Odd, it's never been a heat before… "Been on suppressants since I was bitten," she shakes her head. "Didn't seem, seem worth it. Fenrir please touch me, it hurts."
He snarls and she shrinks back, sure that she's fucked up. Her wolf whines and bares her neck in submission and she kind wants to do the same.
"Peter," he growls, "handle things here."
"Yes, alpha," Peter murmurs.
Fenrir scoops her up and she wraps her legs around his waist. Then suddenly they're apparating. They land in a place she's never been before. Usually, they fuck in the Den or in her apartment, sometimes in the private rooms at Twisted Vine. Or on one memorable occasion in the forest around Malfoy Manor when she needed to distract him.
The room is a cozy living room with a fireplace the lights automatically when they apparated in. Fenrir sets her down on the couch and she whines at the loss.
"Stay," Fenrir snaps at her as he turns from the living room, and Laurel huffs at him, starting to feel overheated in front of the fire. She sits upright and starts to reach behind her, shimmying out of the coat and her dress and breaking the glamour over her wholesale, the short blonde hair darkening to red and growing longer, easy enough to do and leaving her without the itch of wrong that glamours tend to give her.
Her thighs press together as the dress drops and her free hand, the one not holding on to the couch and keeping her upright, that one drops to her panties and she has a rush of pride at how soaked she is, the wet friction making a lewd noise. The touch just gets her hotter and she moans, the sounds echoing through the living room. Shimmying out of her panties, Laurel rubs her clit, spreading her legs wider to give herself better access. She moans at the combination of the feeling and Fenrir's scent all around her. Fenrir is still further into the house and she wants to go find him, but he told her to stay and her wolf wants her to obey him and she's inclined to listen for once. Whining, she circles her clit. It feels so good but it's not enough. She needs... she needs Fenrir. She's so empty.
"Fenrir," she whines.
There's a thump and Fenrir swears while his scent comes back. Laurel sighs, reaching up to him and only catching the edge of his shirt as he moves away. She tugs, trying to get him closer, which he always wants to be closer to her, she wants it now too so why isn't he?
"Fenrir, it hurts," she complains, dropping the hold she has on his shirt and reaching back between her legs, rocking against her fingers and moaning as she slides two inside herself easily, playing with the wetness and arching her back off the couch. "It's empty and it hurts."
He pulls her hand away and she whines at the loss. He pins her hand to the couch and pins the other one when she barely moves it.
"Laurel," he says with strain in his voice. "What were you trying to do to Moretti?"
Moretti...? Who..? She tries to remember who that is.
Oh.
The mission.
Why is she here and not completing the mission?
"Mission," she groans out but no more than that.
"You drank out of his glass. Did you taste anything?"
Why is he asking about that when he could be fucking her?
"Laurel."
She whines and tries to wrap her legs around his waist, but he's just far enough away that she can't.
"Answer the question."
She stops straining against him, rolling her chin up to expose her throat and pants, thinking. "Pep-peppermint? Fen, I don't know, I couldn't smell anything but you."
He takes a deep breath and she wiggles under him, pressing her wrists against his hands and humming when his grip tightens.
"Will you fuck me now?"
He's interested, she can smell it but why won't he do anything? Fenrir has always been interested in her. So why is he hesitating now?
He growls lowly and she whimpers and bares her throat, spreading her legs a little more. He leans forward, pressing his nose against her throat with a quiet rumble.
"Fenrir, touch me. Please," she begs. He likes it when she begs. It's like it's his goal every time he has her in his bed, how quickly he can get her to beg.
He pins her hands over her head, keeping them out of the way while he ducks closer again. She hates this, hates that she has to beg and now it's not working.
"Peppermint?" he asks and she growls a little, yanking at the hand that has her wrists pinned.
"I said that, please I'm so empty." She drops her head back and there's a rush of wet between her legs when he presses his teeth against her throat. Yes, yes, yes, bite her, mark her his, a bite, please. She presses her neck into his teeth and he withdraws quickly, hands clenching around her wrists. Laurel growls angrily and he snarls in her face. She whimpers and drops her gaze and her wolf presses her chest to the ground while whimpering as well.
"You're the one with the best potions training," he grits out. "What is peppermint used in?"
Peppermint? She struggles to think of why it matters. Why anything matters except getting Fenrir's cock in her.
"Laurel," he rumbles.
She blinks a little and meets his eyes again. Peppermint is used in what. She thought of it earlier too. It's used in... In… "Lo-love potions?"
"Smart girl," he praises and her wolf whimpers, rolling onto her back and Laurel shudders at the praise. He pauses and she wants to bite him for stopping before he ducks back down and presses his nose in close to her neck, inhaling deeply.
"Yes, yes, yes," she chants, arching her back and trying to pull him closer. "Fenrir..."
He inhales and sneezes, chuffing at her and she huffs, feeling her wolf perk up and start to wag her tail. "You smell different," he says, and she can see his cock straining against the front of his pants. "What about a love potion..."
She blinks heavily. Is he suggesting...
"Love potions don't make you feel like this," she protests. After all, she would know what it feels like. That bastard dosed her right before seventh year and she spent days sighing over him and turning into his mother because that's what he wanted. She is very lucky Severus interfered before that bastard talked her up to the bedroom. Father and her stepmother just stood idly by and encouraged it.
"Moretti drugged you with something," he growls, breaking her thoughts, "Something that shares ingredients with love potions. Can you think of any other reason you'd react like this?"
"I— no, I can't, it's too hot." She stops struggling for a little while against Fenrir's grip.
Another slow blink and she growls to herself, trying to grab her wolf and shake it by the scruff. It's an easy question, she knows this, but all she can think about is how much she wants Fenrir. "Aphrodisiac, maybe? It's Moretti, he could've, used anything in bad potions making."
"Anything that could interact badly with a 'wolf or any of the potions you might be taking?"
"I don't know," she snaps.
Fenrir snarls at her and she snarls back. Beyond frustrated at this point. Why won't he fuck her?
He narrows his eyes dangerously and she doesn't submit this time. She's done submitting. If he wants her to submit, he's going to have to make her.
He growls at her, deep and more pointed than anything he's done before. She bucks against the loosened grip, rolling out from under him on the couch. Never would Laurel have overpowered him otherwise, and she feels slightly proud of herself that she's escaped. "If you won't fuck me I'm going to take this outside," she threatens.
Another growl rumbles deep in his chest and she returns it. She barely has time to turn away before his hand wraps around her bicep and spins her back to look at him. She doesn't try to move back, just cranes her head back to look him in the eyes. Not backing down at all.
His eyes darken then slowly bleed golden. Her breath catches and she itches to touch him, but she refuses.
"If you step a single foot outside," Fenrir starts and she scoffs, feeling the whimpers start to change to a low and pervasive rumble in her mind as he bristles, seemingly growing to twice his height in his attempt to cow her.
"I'm not scared of you Fenrir," she tells him, her own eyes prickling at the corners as they bleed from hazel to gold, tugging deliberately at where he's holding her.
His grip tightens then suddenly his other hand wraps around her throat. She whimpers and buries her fingers into his shirt. He rubs a thumb over her pulse point and she swallows and presses her thighs together.
"You should be," he says lightly.
"It's not scared," she bites out, chin tipped up by his grip. "It's arousal and for the love of Merlin, you will let me go and fuck me, or I will claw your eyes out and go find someone who will!" He growls and squeezes, and a fever washes over her, her knees buckling at the intensity and sending her nose first into Fenrir's shirt, flooding her with his scent.
She moans, thoughts growing blurry as she relaxes against him. "I can't bloody well think with this fucking fever. It might have been a bad reaction, mght have been part of what he wanted from it."
She mouths at the slightest bit of skin peeking out of his shirt, lightly scraping her teeth over his skin.
"Oh," he says in soft realization.
"Oh? Oh what?" she snaps, pulling back.
He maneuvers her around and face down onto the couch and presses against her from behind. His cock is a hardline against her cunt and she moans, bending forward more and spreading her legs wider.
"Oh, you're in heat, darlin'," He smooths his hands down her spine as she arches deeper into the couch, pressing her ass back against him, rocking and trying to fuck back on it.
"'s'not, I'm on the suppressant," she mumbles, feeling ready to fly apart. "Are you going to fuck me?"
Fenrir hums and she would scream at him, but his hands are on her hips and pulling her back, dragging against her cunt and she tries to clench but there's still nothing there and she whimpers. "I'd say that you are very much in heat, darlin'."
"You didn't answer the question," she growls out, fingers digging into the couch cushions and her claws puncturing through the fabric. "Are you going to fuck me or not?"
He swats her ass and she moans at the sting, pressing back into his hand as he soothes the sting away. He hums noncommittally and she almost sobs in frustration as he shifts his hips away from hers.
"What's the fucking hang up?!" she demands. "You've fucked me before!"
He leans forward, bracketing her on either side with his arms and placing his mouth right behind her ear. "We have fucked, but this is heat." He presses a kiss behind her ear, moving her hair to kiss down the back of her neck and up along her jaw. "You don't know how I would destroy you if I went into rut with you."
She shudders feeling him completely cover her back, melting into the couch cushions and making an odd sound of whine and growl, begging and demanding at the same time. "Fenrir," she begs. "Alpha, please."
He stills then retreats, conflicting emotions souring his scent. Then he tangles his fingers into her hair and pulls her head back, baring her throat. She whimpers at the feeling, her cunt clenching on nothing.
"What did you just call me?" He demands.
She freezes, mind struggling through the heat haze and her wolf offers her the thought. "Alpha," she purrs, arching further into the grip Fenrir has on her hair. "Alpha, fuck me please. I want— ahh."
He pulls her upright with the grip on her hair, his trousers open and his cock hard and dripping against her ass finally. She wiggles, and he grunts, sliding his cock against her cunt but not pushing in. "Alpha, please," she begs again.
Laurel pushes her ass back against his hips and he hooks an arm around her waist, his claws prickling against her skin. Her breath catches and she grips his forearm.
Fenrir lets go of her hair to grasp his cock. He slowly slides the tip through her folds, teasing her. She growls in frustration.
"Alpha, stop teasi— ah," her whine is cut off by a gasp as he slowly pushing into her. Fuck, she always forgets how big he is. He's much bigger than others she's fucked.
"I think you're the tease," he growls, hips hitching hard and fast into her and making Laurel moan with each thrust. "Pretty wolf baring her throat and crying for her alpha."
She can feel her legs trembling, and reaches back to loop her arms over Fenrir's neck, holding on as he fucks into her erratically, hips slapping against her ass. "Yes, you're my alpha, please Fenrir, Alpha please breed me, fill me up."
She's babbling, Laurel can tell through the fog but she just doesn't care. Doesn't care that this is very possibly the height of her mission for the Order, or that there's consequences, just craving Fenrir's hand on her throat and his teeth against her skin. She tips her head back and nips at his jaw, whining in a beg for more. He nips at her neck then sucks a bruise on her skin. She moans, tangling her fingers into his hair. Fenrir fucks up into her harder.
"Yes," she moans, "harder, alpha."
He growls with his teeth against her skin, slowing the pace and driving her wild. "I said harder," she whines, gasping as she clenches around his length. There's a stretch as he pushes into the hilt and she shivers, reaching down to feel him fuck into her.
"Big," she gasps.
Fenrir chuckles darkly, licking at the sting. "That's a knot darlin'. You're not going to be walking right after I'm done with you."
His knot, she thinks dazedly. She's never taken one of those before. It's bigger than she thought and getting bigger. She moans at the feeling and tugs on his hair.
"Make me feel it for days?" she begs in another gasping whine.
He drops his hands to her hips, gripping them in a bruising grip. His claws prickling her skin and she moans at the sting.
"That's right, darlin'. I'm gonna send you back to the Order fucked full of my cum and smelling like me for days. You'd like that wouldn't you, darlin'?"
She shudders and nods because that means that she would get to smell like him for days. She'd get to roll in bed and feel like he's there. Could parade around Grimmauld smelling like one of their greatest enemies and they'd never know.
"What a good girl," Fenrir purrs, teeth grazing over the name of her neck and she stiffens, the sudden heat flash of an orgasm punching her in the chest and leaving her gasping for air and half on Fenrir's cock. It's sensitive as he continues to thrust and she squirms, trying to get away, to take a breather as the heat fades a bit.
"Fenrir, I can't," she squirms and squirms, half twisting and planting her arm against his chest, staring up at him. She can see that his eyes are still gold, bright gold and she thinks that hers glow brighter in response with how her wolf is preening in her chest at Fenrir's regard.
"You can," he says calmly, pulling her back down on his cock.
She whines, overwhelmed by how sensitive and full she is. He ducks back down setting his teeth against her throat. Her breath catches. Fenrir pulls away from her throat with a smirk and pulls out of her completely and she can't help but whine at the loss. He picks her up like she weighs nothing and sits down on the couch. Unfair, she thinks, he knows that she likes it when he does that. Laurel's back is to his chest and he slides back into her cunt easily. She reaches back and tangles her fingers into his hair with a moan.
"That's a good girl," he grunts, relaxing into the couch and taking her with him, leaving her on display, exposed to the empty living room with the fireplace crackling away. She shivers and he keeps talking, mouth against her neck, voice behind her ear and just surrounding her. "Get you through this, figure out how you were drugged. You take my cock so well, Laurel, fuck."
She wishes he would stop talking about that, she knows that this is probably the drugged drink from Moretti, but also it's made her feel so good. Laurel would have never had a heat, never had Fenrir teasing her with his knot like this and she craves it so much. She doesn't know why she's suppressed her heats when she's obviously meant to be bred, meant to be used by him.
"Alpha," she croons, pressing down and feeling the slight tug as Fenrir grinds into her and pulls out, not bothering to come off his cock all the way before dropping back down. "Alpha, Alpha, breed me, fuck me and make me yours."
"Is that what you want, darlin'?" he asks roughly, hips slamming into her ass. "Want me to breed you full? Make it so everyone knows that you took my knot like a good girl?"
She clenches around his cock, grinding down on his knot. He nips at her throat and she presses against his teeth.
"Yes, yes, please alpha, please. I want everyone to know I'm yours," she pleads.
He growls, opening his mouth to set his teeth wide against her neck, biting down gently in contrast to how his cock felt like it hardened more, the knot swelling slightly as he pushed in slowly.
The pressure felt good and Laurel wriggled before squeezing around it, trying to keep Fenrir in instead of pulling out and leaving her empty. "You promised," she whines. "You promised you wouldn't leave me. You should bite me, make that kind of a mark. No one would be able to say I'm not yours."
Fenrir growls, breath hot and wet against her skin and she shivers, pressing into the sharp points for a brief moment of wantyesplease before he pulls back, stopping even the hint of a bite. "Needy brat. That's the heat talking darlin', you don't want that."
She whimpers at the lack of teeth in her neck. Why won't he bite her? It's what she wants and what he wants too. She's been good, hasn't she?
"Alpha," she whines, grinding down on his next thrust and clenching around his knot.
A hand wraps around her throat and his claws dig into her hip. Fenrir fucks up into her harder and she gasps at a particularly rough thrust and he does it again and again until she's seeing stars.
"Alpha, alpha," she begs, "bite me. Bite me, please."
Her next plea is choked off by his fingers sliding into her mouth, pressing down on her tongue and holding it still. She swallows around them and can feel the saliva building up while she laps at them, pulling the salt from his skin and how sharp his claws are. "A good bitch needs to shut up and know her place," he growls, his knot continuing to inflate slowly as she gasps, nearly choking on her spit and his fingers, swallowing frantically around them.
"A slutty bitch might even take her alpha's knot and get on her knees to clean his knot up while she leaks on the ground. You'd like to be your Alpha's best whore wouldn't you, Laurel?"
She nods quickly, the heat returning to her mind and drowning her in lust. Shuddering, Laurel swallows around his fingers again and he presses down on her tongue. He thrusts into roughly, then grinds his still inflating knot into her. She moans at the feeling, clinging to his arms with her claws digging into his skin. The smell of copper fills the air and he growls as she can do nothing but take what he gives.
"Cum for me," he orders darkly.
Laurel whines, shaking her head, and moans around his fingers as his knot pops out and he thrusts again, the knot hitting her clit as he pants against her neck. "Fucks sake Laurel, cum for me," he commands, and pushes her hips down with that knot battering against her entrance until it pops in and she clenches around it, feeling full and she listens to that angry order from her Alpha, spasming and whining.
Fenrir moans, grinding into her and cumming himself, his claws digging into her hip while his face rests against the back of her neck. Laurel wants the bite, she can feel his teeth and she squirms, making another orgasm crash over her and leaving her whimpering and sensitive and Fenrir chokes, pulling his fingers from her mouth to hold her still on his knot. "Fenrir please," she gasps, trembling.
"Please, what?" He grunts.
"Bite me, alpha" she pleads. She needs it, almost as much as she needed his cock earlier.
Fenrir growls, hands going bruisingly tight on her hips and claws digging into her skin. "No."
"But—" she twists, gasping at the tug of his knot and he pushes her down and still.
Fenrir wraps an arm around her waist, his free hand coming up to cover her mouth, claws digging into her cheek. "I said fucking no, bitch. You need to listen to your Alpha if you're going to say I'm yours."
She whimpers in confusion, her wolf shaking and wanting more but cowed for the time being and Fenrir holds her still, his cum pulsing into her. Each time she shifts it's further pleasure, but she doesn't know what happened, what went wrong. She thought… she thought this was what happened in heat, calling him Alpha, taking the knot, getting a bite... Her wolf whines and she can't help but echo her. She's misunderstood something, hasn't she? Laurel shivers a little, heart thundering in her chest. Did she read too much into things again? Expect more than what was actually being offered?
Fenrir soothes a hand over her hip, grinding his knot deeper into her. "Shh, shh. You're taking it so well, darlin'."
Her wolf preens at the praise and Laurel shoves her aside, suddenly really fucking angry at him and his seesawing emotions. His fingers stop digging into her cheek, cupping her chin and she growls quietly, not saying anything else. He can probably smell how angry she is, he's done that before, and she doesn't answer, doing as Fenrir said and behaving.
"Darlin', I can't read your mind, what's wrong?"
She doesn't say anything, just leans back against him and feeling very suddenly cold, the pleasant heat doused and leaving her feeling very aware of the sticky places and how much Fenrir has stretched her on his knot and how it's uncomfortable.
"Laurel?"
She ignores him, and decides that she just doesn't care, rocking herself forward onto her knees over his lap and swinging quickly off, gasping a bit as the knot pops out and she's now very empty, very full of cum and very wet. Pressing her thighs together, she hunts down her coat and the mokeskin bag hidden in the hidden pocket. He stands as well, tucking himself away, anger coating his scent. She glances dismissively at him and the anger skyrockets. Hers matches it, but she presses her lips together and pulls out the bag.
"Why, exactly, are you ignorin' me?" he demands roughly.
"You told me to behave," she answers blandly.
"Wh— behave? Laurel, since when have you ever listened to a damn word that I've said?"
She shrugs, reaching into the bag and grabbing the first set of clothes that came to hand, stepping into them without bothering to clean off. That's… she wants it for herself a little longer, even if Fenrir is being like this. She likes the scent and enjoyed the fuck even though the effects of the drugged drink have worn off. It's made things somewhat clearer for her in the mission to get closer to the pack, and what she's going to do later on.
At least she hopes it does.
"Laurel," his hand comes down on her arm and she snarls, recoiling, and spins around, her wand in hand from wherever it was that Fenrir had stashed it when he'd brought her here. Fenrir snarls back and she doesn't shrink back as she bares her fangs at him. He bares his back with a deep thundering growl, like she's a pup needing to be reprimanded. And she's fucking done.
"Let me go," she orders.
"No."
She narrows her eyes, the tip of her wand glowing threateningly before he grabs her chin roughly. He jerks her closer.
"What's the fuckin' issue?"
Her wand tip is pressed against his chest, the glow growing warm with a thought from her. "Don't," she says quietly, staring down his grey-gold eyes. "You have jerked me around, telling me that you're my Alpha, that I need to listen to you, and when I do that, when I finally bend my neck and submit you tell me that it's not good enough. That I don't get a bite, that I don't get to ask for things. What kind of alpha fucks around with someone like that?"
"You don't get to turn this around on me Laurel," Fenrir growls. "This was no matin' heat, and you takin' my bite..." He laughs under his breath. "You're ready to run back to that precious Order of yours the moment that you've got a knot and the Alpha's seed in you. Gonna take my pups to use against me?"
She flinches before she can help it, trying to retreat back a step, but she can't. The grip he has on her chin is absolute. He grins savagely at her reaction. The worst part of it, he's right. Even six months ago, Laurel would have. Would have done anything to fulfill her mission as long as she was useful. But as the days go by, and the more full moons she spends with the pack and being part of a pack; the more she second-guesses herself. She's felt more like a wolf this past year than in the entire twenty years she's been one. More like a person than a weapon.
"I wouldn't," she says quietly.
"Then where are you goin' Laurel," he says, dropping her chin and letting her go. It should be her chance to go, but she feels unmoored and grasping at straws as everything she thought she could see waiting for her starts to drop away. "What are you doin'?"
She swallows and shakes her head, grabbing the coat from the back of the chair and walking to the door. "I don't have time to argue with you about what I… never mind what I thought. I need to find Moretti." Fenrir stares at her, she can't read his scent other than the blackest of foul moods and stalks across the room, opening the door and letting her step out into a nearly dark forest as the sun sets behind the last of the trees. Laurel doesn't know where this is, it isn't one of the spaces she's run with the pack before.
"Go on then. We can bring you Moretti," he waves her out to the dark clearing and shuts the door of the cottage behind them, leaving them in the middle of the forest. She turns and doesn't see the house, even though she knows it was there and thinks of the Unplottable Charms, or the Fidelius and there's a muffled struggle before Peter drags the bound form of her target into the clearing.
The rush of anger at the sight of Moretti takes her by surprise, but she doesn't let it distract her for long. She stalks across the clearing to where Peter has dumped her target and as soon as she's close enough she kicks him in the jaw. Fenrir snorts, but other than that stays silent and watches her. She reaches down and hauls him to his knees. Smiling viciously at him, she removes the silencing spell on him.
"Freaks! Let me go!"
"You have crossed some lines, Moretti," she says, twiddling with her wand. "And there are some people who want to know about them. No not these ones," she dismisses the fearful glance that he gives to Peter and Fenrir. "But the Order. You've made some very powerful enemies."
She tips his head back with the point of her wand, relishing in the fear stink as she stares down with fever gold eyes and shatters his mind.
It's not very long before Laurel has the information that she wanted, and she has very little regrets about leaving him a mangled mess. There's two things that she had taken from him; the locations and plans for the people that he had been trafficking with his brother, which will go to Moody and Dumbledore. And then there's the secret about the Compulsion Potion that he had used. She's going to need to talk to Severus about what it was supposed to do and what it actually did, but that was for her and never to be shared with Dumbledore. She might not be able to do very much to protect Fenrir's pack, but she could keep something that induces forced heats, that causes people to feel this shitty from being in the hands of the enemy.
Laurel steps back, tapping her chin idly in thought. Thinking over her options on what to do with the braindead body, she pokes him in the side with the toe of her boot then slowly starts the tedious process of Transfiguring him into a coin for easy transport. Unfortunately, she didn't gain her father's talent in Transfiguration, so something that he can do with a quick swish of his wand takes her a few minutes of concentration.
She slips the coin into her pants pocket and turns around to face the other wolves. Fenrir and Peter are both leaning against nearby trees. Fenrir is watching unusually impassively while Rowan eyes her in interest. It's not lust, he's happily mated to Claudia after all, but something she can't put her finger on...
"You done?" Fenrir asks gruffly.
"Mhm," she nods and walks towards them, remaining carefully out of his easy reach. "I appreciate the assistance."
Fenrir's jaw clenches and she raises her chin slightly, daring him to say anything about her choices. "You can give Peter the body, he can dispose of it."
She raises an eyebrow but turns to give Rowan the coin anyway. "He needs to be in the alley," she tells him. "Untransfigured, but there and breathing." He nods and takes the coin, giving her an encouraging smile before turning on his heel to Disapparate. Then it's her and Fenrir in the forest.
The silence is stifling but she doesn't break it. She's not normally such a coward, but she's making an exception and avoids looking at Fenrir. He steps away from the tree, stalking forward and getting close enough that she has no choice but to look at him.
"Can I help you?" she asks in annoyance.
"You've never—" he bites off the sentence and smells aggravated. She leans back warily, which gives him pause. Laurel doesn't think she's ever pulled away or not welcomed his touch like the last thirty minutes in the months that they've been growing closer. It's just as unsettling for her and her wolf as she fucking hopes it is for Fenrir.
"I've never what Fenrir," she says acidly. "There's a lot I didn't do."
"You never said that the full moons weren't your heats!" He looks mad that he has to spell this out for her. She scoffs, crossing her arms.
"Well, when would I have ever had the safety in the last twenty years of being a 'wolf to find someone and have a heat? I think not, my suppressant is infallible, barring," she holds up her finger, "tonight. Which was a drugged interaction that will never be making it into the Order's hands."
He looks like he wants to be distracted and then shakes his head. "The full moons..."
"I get touchy, sue me. It's not like I've gone and 'stolen your seed' any other time we've fucked in the last six months."
"You know damn well it's harder for our kind to breed when there's not a heat or rut involved."
She throws her hands up. "Are you mad about the heat or lack-there-of or because you might of bred an Order member?"
"Yes," he snaps. "No. You don't… you come in and say things, pretty things, things I want to hear. Newsflash Laurel, sayin' that I'm your alpha, beggin' for the bite while you're on my goddamn knot, that's not things I'm going to take from a stone cold bitch who lives in the Light and can't keep her hands to herself!"
There's a ringing crack, and Laurel's hand stings. As it sould given that she's just slapped Fenrir. "How dare," she breathes. "How dare you think that I would do that for the Order. That was for you. You wanted to hear that and I wanted to say it!"
She's viciously upset, because she had wanted it, deep in her heart, but she can't get out of this tangled web of family and deep cut betrayal from all sides and she was being selfish and choosing to take what she could. "I think we're done tonight," she says hollowly.
His lips curl, a sneer she hasn't seen from him in months. It shouldn't hurt as much as it does to see it, but oh, it does. It hurts to lose all the progress she made. Not for the mission, but whatever relationship she had with Fenrir.
(Why does it feel like she's losing the pack she never had in the first place?)
She presses her lips together and steps back, apparating on the spot. She re-appears in a secluded section of the park near Grimmauld and leans against a nearby tree to gather herself and just breathe. Checking the time, she grimaces at the realization there's an Order meeting soon and it's one she has to attend. Laurel slowly pulls herself together, and straightens her appearance so she looks less like she just got fucked and clears her face of all emotions. She stalks to Grimmauld and arrives at the front door.
The redhead stares at the door in loathing, she doesn't want to be here. Doesn't want to be in this hellhole of a house, around these people that never appreciate what she does for them, or the people that were supposed to be her family. She suppresses a growl and wipes the emotions from her face.
Opening the door, she breathes a sigh of relief at the fact the entrance hall is empty. Reluctantly, she makes her way to the kitchen. She's greeted by the sight of her twin in his red auror robes laughing with their step-brother, and her brothers' best friend. Father and her step-mother, Alice, are already sitting their chairs on the right and left of the head of the table. Father frowns in disapproval when he catches sight of her and she returns his frown with a bored expression. Nothing pisses him off more than to see her emulate Severus even the slightest amount.
"Where have you been, Laurel?" Father demands.
"Finishing business with Moretti," she replies coolly. "I don't believe that I need to answer to you about that."
"So you've finished that?" There's a rush of bodies in and she nods to Dumbledore as he makes his way to the chair at the head of the table. "Very good, Miss Potter. We shall have to hear your report for the rest of your missions after your brother makes his. Harry?"
Her brother strides forward with a cocky grin, his auror robes flaring around his ankles. He drops into the seat next to his wife, Ginny. Neville, their step-brother, takes the seat by his mother while Ron takes the seat between Ginny and Hermione and throws his arm casually over Hermione's shoulders.
"There's going to be another raid on Knockturn soon," Harry says casually. "I'll be leading it this time, so you know we'll clear out the scum from their little hidey-holes."
Laurel sits down at the end of the table and wishes that there would be less talking and that she could go home. She's even more miserable as she realizes that home isn't her flat in Commun, but she's thinking very much about Twisted Vine, with Claudia smiling and Peter raising a glass to her and Fenrir— She shoves the thought away and starts picking through the potential cross reactions from her suppressant and the love potion that Moretti had used.
"Are you listening, girl?" her step-mother demands.
"Yes, Miss Alice," Laurel replies dutifully.
"Then take that stupid look off your face."
"I'm not quite sure I understand what you mean, ma'am," she says politely.
Alice huffs, her scent souring and opens her mouth to retort. Dumbledore clears his throat and Alice subsides with a grumble. Dumbledore is the only person to actually get her to shut up. Laurel gets a lot of amusement out of the fact that Severus has privately compared Alice to Bellatrix on numerous occasions. Especially given what happened to her first husband.
"Well, Miss Potter, how did your mission go?"
Laurel opens her mouth, marshaling her thoughts when there's increased whispers from the contingent that surrounds Harry and Dumbledore glances at them with a fond smile. "Harry, please feel free to go, you've done quite well."
They all push their chairs back and leave, talking loudly about their plans while Harry makes a deliberate face at Laurel. She doesn't change her expression, letting him walk out and exhaling when the only people left are the ones who she dearly wishes weren't. Severus is the only support but that's easy enough to carry through. She delivers her report, keeping her voice level while she talks about Moretti and what she had found. She carefully omits the drugged drink and has nearly finished when Father interrupts.
"Sleeping around like a common slut, is what you do actually of any use to us Laurel? Look at me when I'm speaking to you."
She turns her head, face bland as she watches her father. He waves his hand towards her, addressing the rest of the members at the table. "We don't need people like her in this organization. What does she add to such a noble cause? The rumors that spread make it so much less worthwhile. What do you even do?"
Later, Laurel thinks that this is where it started, but in the moment all she can think about is how much of a nightmare the last day had been, and how she might have lost one of the most precious things she has and she straightens her spine. Out of the corner of her eye she can see Severus grow slightly alarmed as she smirks blandly. "Well, I've been tasked with infiltrating the Greyback pack."
There's a ripple around the room, and her Father's face goes pale. Laurel is done with their charade. She's been hiding what she is for twenty fucking years and she's sick of it.
"Why do we have this girl going to the Greyback pack when we have Mister Lupin already on such a mission?" She can't see who asked that, but she bares her teeth in a quick grin, watching Father's wand hand come up too slowly.
"Well, I mean, it's rather good that you have another werewolf then, given that I was bitten as a child as well."
"Laurel!" Father hisses angrily.
She gazes back blandly, feeling a vicious spike of satisfaction watching as Lupin shrink in his chair. She hopes he can smell it too, for all his senses are so dulled from suppressing his wolf. Lupin's wife, Tonks, is frowning, side-eyeing Lupin; she's one of the few people that caught on immediately who exactly bit her. Shacklebolt is the other and he's eyeing her Father, stepmother, and Lupin. Severus has retreated into the shadows with a brief gleeful smirk. His arms crossed in such a way that he can hex anyone if it comes to that. She feels a burst of affection for him.
Dumbledore clears his throat, sending her a chiding and disappointed look. "My dear, that mission was supposed to be secret."
"It's rather easier to keep a secret when there aren't other people approaching me on the street and questioning my loyalties," she lies, nodding in acknowledgment of the fact that it was a secret mission. However… he hadn't said that it should have been one, relying on the shame and supposed secret of her transformation to keep her quiet.
"Well, maybe if you weren't running around sleeping with everyone, people wouldn't be questioning your loyalties," Alice says snidely.
That's rich coming from her. The only reason Alice even married Father in the first place is because she got pregnant with Catherine. There was enough of a stir when Augusta Longbottom kicked Alice and Neville out of Longbottom Manor for her dalliance with Father while her husband was confined to the Janus Thickey Ward. It was tabloid fodder for months, especially when Rita Skeeter finally pried the reason out of the Longbottom Matriarch. The fact Alice got pregnant by another man when she hadn't even gotten divorced from her comatose husband was the end of the centuries-long Potter and Longbottom alliance. It's a patronus memory for her.
"I don't sleep was as many people as you think, Miss Alice."
"I would like to know why Laurel was the one given the task to infiltrate the Greyback pack," Shacklebolt says slowly, his voice drawing attention and demanding that people listen. "If Remus already has a connection to Greyback, then it would follow that he would be the one better suited to that."
There's another round of nods and Laurel isn't going to let that just go. She's tired, heartsore and starting to feel the trickle of Fenrir's cum leaking out of her. All in all, she's ready to start some fires that she won't be the one answering. "I'd assume that due to his own task with the other packs, the child he bit would be another excellent stand in."
There's an uproar, people asking questions and she can see how Father and her stepmother are ready to have words with her if not for the shouting that everyone has. Accusations about the stability of werewolves, why "that man" was allowed to be part of this if his control was spotty, accusations towards Father about the care of his children. Laurel is thankful in no small part that Sirius wasn't here, as he has the worst temper out of any of Father's friends, and wouldn't have hesitated to be done with her before she had said anything.
Dumbledore sets off a few low bangs from his wand, clearing his throat and giving everyone disappointed eyes over his spectacles.
"I think," he says softly, "we have gotten off track."
His disappointed eyes are mostly for her but her ability to care about what he thinks of her actions broke a long fucking time ago. Dumbledore stashes his wand away and then smiles brightly at them.
"Have actually made any progress with that mission then?" Irene Bonner asks disdainfully.
Laurel doesn't scowl at her and just gazes back blandly. The mother of her former best friend is a person she despises being around. That woman never has a kind word for anyone except for Dumbledore and her husband is just as bad. They're the reason Athena abandoned her, of that Laurel has no doubt.
"As much as Remus has," she says boldly. "They're all wary of being associated with the Order. They're also leery of the Death Eaters, and the best we might get is them staying away from everything."
"That's hardly progress," Hestia Jones says, looking about as prim as anyone at the table could be. "They need to be with us or exterminated! We cannot keep them under control."
Laurel grits her teeth, fairly certain that Jones didn't mean to say that two of the members around this table should be included, but Lupin is pale as a sheet and the amount of worrying nods in agreement leave her teeth aching to bite someone.
"Thank you for the report, Miss Potter," Dumbledore says with a sigh, looking around the rest of the table. "Is there any other business that is pressing? Then we can leave for the evening. Thank you, James and Alice, for hosting. May I speak with you and Laurel later?"
Laurel doesn't want to hear any of it, pushing back from the table and heading for the door, head high and ready to claw someone's eyes out. Her exit is blocked by Lupin as the rest of the members mingle and talk. The man looks exhausted and scared, and she can't bring herself to regret her actions.
"Laurel, I know that I am not your favorite person," he says hoarsely. "But did you… must you have done that?"
"Must have I done what, Uncle Moony?" she asks lightly, catching sight of his wife wandering closer with a frown on her face.
Lupin flinches, ducking his head in shame and she doesn't have it in her to feel sorry for him. This man has had decades to come to terms with what he is but he refuses to. He prefers to wallow in his self-pity and she doesn't have time for any of that nonsense.
"That I..." he cuts himself off, unable to continue.
"That you bit me and I had to hide it to protect you, Uncle Moony?" she finishes cuttingly.
She sees Tonks get caught talking with Kingsley and looking at them, and she turns back to Lupin. "There's a lot that I've done to shield you," she tells him, quiet and serious. "And I'm very done with it. Whatever you're hiding, I suggest you take the time to reflect before you lose things that you didn't think you had to lose. Tonks," she nods to Lupin's wife as she reaches them finally, and the woman nods back, not touching Lupin, which is odd given how much she typically does.
"Laurel..." Lupin says and hesitates, curling his hand into a fist. "Are you alright, you smell a little..."
"I'm fine," she answers. "Not that you should really be asking me that question, it's a little invasive, don't you think?"
Lupin flushes. "Yes, you're right. I apologize."
Laurel doesn't respond, simply stares at him and he stares back expectantly. He doesn't get the hint that he's not getting forgiveness, nor that he should move out of the way.
"I'd like to go home. Move," she orders politely.
He jumps and does scoot out of her way and she stalks towards the door, intent on getting out and her name is called as the rest of the Order trickle out.
"Laurel, a word."
She stops and turns around, crossing her arms to stare at Dumbledore, her father, and Alice. They're standing near the door that leads to a smaller private sitting room and Laurel thinks she is quite done with the emotional manipulation behind closed doors. "Yes? It's getting late, and I would like to go home."
"It will be just a moment," Dumbledore says and gestures to the sitting room. She doesn't move.
His smile slips briefly, the twinkle in his eye dimming. "Really, my girl, there's no need to be so stubborn, come have a seat while we talk."
"I'm fine with standing. What did you want to speak about?"
"Your behavior, my dear," he tuts.
"My behavior," she muses tapping her chin, aware that Severus is in the hallways behind her, Lupin and Tonks are in the room and the rest of the Order members are standing in the foyer beyond the hallway. She might as well make this good. "You mean the truth, or do you mean my lack of sitting and taking this treatment?"
"Girl," Alice snaps, bristling beside her father. "You will have a civil tongue in your mouth."
Empty threats, Laurel thinks to herself, smelling the fear that is radiating from across the room. Empty threats and terror that she'll expose secrets. "Or what," she says. "I have found every way in which to support this cause, and I have been left with no backup, very little support, and no one in sight on many occasions when I have been drugged or held captive on behalf of these missions." There's a gasp from the foyer and she thinks it's only her that knows that everyone hasn't left Grimmauld Place yet. "What is there that you would decide to do to me that hasn't been done?"
"Don't forget whose money it is that's keeping you afloat," Father threatens.
Laurel cocks a brow and smirks sardonically. Father narrows his eyes, and his wand hand twitches.
"You haven't paid for anything of mine since before I left Hogwarts, Father, remember? I believe it was third year."
"Your allowance has gone out every month," he starts and Laurel actually laughs.
"I do believe you'll find that any of my accounts associated with yours have gone untouched. What was it you said Miss Alice 'you don't get to touch anything of Catherine's'?" Alice's face has gone pale and she lifts her wand halfway before Laurel tsks. "Yes, please do hex me, it would be such a darling story in the Prophet that you've hexed one of your children."
"You're no child of ours," Father spits, dropping a hand on Alice's arm, glaring at her. "Get out, you're done. The Potters will have no dealings with a beastly bitch like you."
Laurel blinks, very slowly. She hadn't expected Father to go through with it, but as she stands there, in Grimmauld Place, the bands of family magic fray away and leave her feeling lighter than she has in years. "Well then, if you'll excuse me," she says. "I think that any sort of association that I have had with the Order is done."
Dumbledore pales a little, twinkle completely dying in his eyes. "Now, my dear, can't we talk about this?"
"No," she says shortly. She spins on her heel and strides to the door, slipping past Severus and Shacklebolt as she does.
Laurel breathes a quiet sigh of relief as the door closes behind her. She apparates to her flat, discarding her coat in the entryway.
That was… a lot, and she's not just talking about Fenrir, and the stupid mission with Moretti, but confronting people and now she feels so conflicted about everything. There was the werewolf reveal, and she can just tell that Lupin won't have an easy night with Tonks, and then her— James had said that she wasn't a child of the Potter family and he'd meant it.
There'd been no trace of deceit, no hesitation and she hadn't realized so much of the weight in her chest had been tied to the regard of people who had none for her. She strips to get in the shower and as the hot water comes down, she realizes that it's washing away the remnants of Fenrir's scent and she starts crying over the whole damn day.