Sweet Puppy

Chapter 6

Fenrir slowed his speed to a jog as he neared the cave. He could smell Vadania Nestrobber’s scent on the wind – she was close to him, not in the cave. He heard crunching of leaves and sticks on the forest floor, and then she appeared suddenly at his side, face painted with a mixture of frustration and relief.

“Fenrir,” she breathed, sharp teeth exposed. “Where have you been?”

Fenrir shook his mane of grey-streaked hair. “Caught a whiff of something I wanted to check up on is all.” He pushed past her and continued his trek to the cave, the silver-haired she-wolf at his heels.

“Was it humans? Wizards?”

Fenrir shook his head again. “It doesn’t concern you, Nestrobber.”

Vadania was used to her leader’s snarling tone, and normally would have ignored it and kept pressing, but she had more urgent matters to discuss.

“You might be interested to know that Bloodjaw was very…anxious about where you’d run off to,” said Vadania, eyes narrowed.

Fenrir appeared unconcerned, but asked, “How so?”

“Kept saying that we should think about who should take over. Said it wasn’t right for the pack leader to take off without telling anyone where he was going.”

Fenrir’s smile was twisted. “And he wants to take over, does he?”

Vadania smirked back. “He didn’t say so – but I’ve never seen him so enthused about anything... and that is saying something.”

“Yes,” Fenrir agreed. Nothing more was said as they neared the hidden cave. As they approached, they were greeted by the scuttling footsteps of Simon Bent-tail.

“Greyback!” he exclaimed. “You’re alive!”

“Observant,” Fenrir growled, pushing past the cowering yet overly-exuberant Muggle-werewolf. Sometimes he regretted biting this one….

“Well, Bloodjaw was saying you might not be, and well, we were worried and we thought we should vote on what to do, and I wasn’t sure, I told Bloodjaw it was a bad idea, but he wouldn’t listen –”

“Can you blame him, fool?” Fenrir snarled, swinging a fist at the annoying whelp. Simon Bent-tail let out a sniffling whimper but ducked out of the way and hurriedly took his place respectfully behind his leader.

Fenrir strode into the cave and stomped a foot against a circular patch of dirt. The ground rumbled beneath him, then, like a muggle lift, the circular patch began to sink into the floor until Fenrir had disappeared from above ground. As the dirt sank, a large, underground stone tunnel was revealed, and Fenrir’s golden eyes quickly adjusted to the darkened passageway lit only with the occasional torch. He stepped off the dirt and entered the tunnel, and the two werewolves followed. After walking for several minutes, the sounds of roars reached their ears. Fenrir sped up his steps and bared his teeth, ready to put any werewolf acting out in his proper place.

Flickering light bounced off the cavernous walls of the den, and rough looking men and women, and some children, were all staring towards the middle of the cavern, jeering. On a raised platform, normally inhabited by Greyback during full pack meetings, were two men snarling at each other: one tall and broad with dark, mangy red hair, the other of a slighter build with sleek, wet looking black hair.


Immediately, all of the shouting and snarling stopped – the werewolves froze in their places, and the taller man in the middle seemed to sag in defeat. The other looked relieved, and stepped away from the platform and approached Fenrir, head bowed. He dropped to his knees and with a pointed look at the taller scowling man, rolled to his back and exposed his stomach in submission. There were fresh bruises and a few scratches across his abdomen, and Fenrir let out a huff and pulled the man to his feet.

“Blackmane, I expected better,” he growled. Lawcian Blackmane lowered his eyes.

“Bloodjaw thought it would be best to select a new leader – I didn’t think so …he challenged me.”

Devis Bloodjaw, still scowling on the platform, sank to his knees and glared at the floor. Fenrir nodded at Lawcian, told him to go get cleaned up, then walked slowly towards Devis, an amused smile on his face.

“Devis, always the ambitious one,” he said, chuckling a bit.

Devis hunched his shoulders, and said somewhat sulkily, “You were gone almost three nights. I acted in a way I thought you would have wanted.”

Fenrir grasped the man’s shoulder and pulled him to his feet. “If I had been dead, I would have wanted someone to take over – perhaps not you,” he said, still laughing. Devis kept his eyes lowered, hiding his anger at the insult. When he did not respond, Fenrir slapped him across the back and said, “Go take care of those scratches, Bloodjaw. I’ll meet with you and the rest of the core in an hour.”

Devis nodded jerkily, then hurried through the curious onlookers to one of the many tunnels branching off from the den. Fenrir tuned to Vadania and muttered. “Call the core. There’s something I wish to discuss.”

An hour later, Fenrir watched with narrowed eyes as his core walked into the small council room; including Fenrir, the number of werewolves in the core was equivalent to the number of full moons each year. Among them were the strongest, fiercest, and most cunning werewolves of his pack – it was the core that had the voice to contribute ideas to Fenrir, but it was Fenrir who held the power – power which apparently was being sought after. The other werewolves sat quickly as they caught a glimpse of Fenrir’s expression.

“I don’t ever want to see what I saw today again.” The werewolves shifted guiltily. “The only time a new leader is selected is when one resigns – which has never happened, and won’t happen – or when one dies. Seeing as I’m not dead,” Fenrir said, smirking at himself. “The only way a new leader will come about is if I am challenged – and I lose.” He paused here, his eyes sweeping the table and resting on Devis Bloodjaw, who quickly looked away. “Is there anyone here who is not satisfied with me? Speak! This is your last chance.”

Devis remained silent, as did the rest of the core. Lawcian looked relieved.

“Good,” Fenrir huffed. “Now that’s done…it’s time to talk about where I went – where I’m going.”

A tremor of interest went through the formerly still werewolves. Fenrir took a deep breath; he’d been fabricating this lie for the better part of his journey back to the cave, and hoped to the moon that it worked.

“I caught the scent of what might be a nearby pack.”

Instantly, the werewolves began to murmur amongst themselves.

“Have you met with them?” asked Lawcian.

“Probably traitors like that Lupin,” growled a black woman with a long crimped mane of shiny black hair.

“Maybe, Amaryllis,” Fenrir growled back. Amaryllis Longfang gave Fenrir a smirk that could only be described as lustful as she was acknowledged. “That’s why I’m going to watch them for awhile – we need to decide who is in charge while I’m gone.”

Silence met this statement. Devis looked as though he was sitting on something extremely uncomfortable as he shifted around in his seat.

“I want to hear from you. It’s about time I learned which of you is actually smart,” said Fenrir, leaning back in his chair. Instantly, snarled whispers began as the core conversed with each other. Fenrir watched carefully even though his posture remained aloof; Vadania was not suggesting herself but protesting against Devis’ self-nomination – so was Lawcian. Fenrir briefly considered Blackmane – he was the most intelligent – but then figured it would only bring more problems from Devis.

“Ah, enough,” Fenrir hollered over the din. “Nestrobber is in charge while I’m gone.”

To say Devis was furious was an understatement; Fenrir smiled to himself.

After the core meeting broke up, it was almost time for Fenrir to go back. Alone in his own den, he had time to think about what Harry had offered him earlier. He wondered just how much he would tell him, and how much he’d hold back in order to get more out of the boy.

The fact that his mate was Harry Potter had been slow to get to his brain, but finally, he was beginning to realize the consequences: The Dark Lord wanted Harry Potter dead; without Harry Potter, Fenrir Greyback would go insane; if Fenrir joined with the Dark Lord, his mate would be in danger. It was that simple; he wouldn’t be joining the Death Eaters. The problem was getting away from them, and at the same time satisfying the more brutal of his pack, not to mention his own survival – he was a vicious man, a beast. He had developed a taste for the chase, for the fear of humans – sometimes he even took a bite out of them. He had never been accepted in the wizarding world, and he wouldn’t be accepted now – not when it got out that he had claimed the wizarding world’s Chosen One as his own. A scratch on his door tore him from his thoughts. Fenrir threw down the robe he had been about to put on and opened the door to reveal Amaryllis, lounging against the frame.

“Why’d you give the job to her?” she asked, voice low and husky. “You like her better?”

Fenrir smiled at her indulgently. “Vadania is practically a mother already, Amaryllis. She’ll take good care of everyone.”

Amaryllis pouted her dark lips, golden eyes gleaming. “But I don’t need a mum, Fenrir…I wouldn’t say no to a daddy…,”

Fenrir took a step back. Three days ago he would have taken the willing she-wolf to the dirt, but Harry’s scent seemed to fill his nostrils, and his beautiful white skin was so different than the wolf’s in front of him, not only in color…the boy was clean, no cuts, no scratches, no scars…except for the one on his forehead….

“I’m sure Bloodjaw would love to be a father,” said Fenrir, turning once more to the worn black robe.

Behind him, he heard a low growl. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Fenrir pulled the robe over his naked body and ignored the constricting feeling of the clothing. It was the same robe he had worn the night of that battle in the tower, the same robe he had worn when he first got a glimpse of the Potter boy. He had thrust him to the ground, ready to maul him – but the boy had gotten away. Not the second time though…Fenrir grinned and licked his lips; he’d be seeing his sweet pup soon –


Amaryllis was snarling now, furious at being ignored. Her long nails curved like bird talons, and her body was bent low as though she was preparing to leap. Fenrir turned to her, eyes unimpressed with her challenging posture.

“You want it,” she hissed, nostrils flaring as she sniffed. “I can smell it; you’re ready for me –”

“It is not you I want, Longfang. Now, get out of my way!”

“What?” she cried as she was forcibly shoved out of her leader’s path. “Where are you going? To her? Or maybe you’re going after that pack! What, have you found some whore –”

The she-wolf’s angry shouts had been silenced by Fenrir’s hard fist as it hit her across the face. She yelped in shock and pain and brought shaking hands to cup her bleeding mouth. Angry eyes met Fenrir’s icy ones.

“How dare you look at me!” roared Fenrir. Amaryllis’ eyes dropped to the ground, and her mouth twisted at the bitter taste of her own blood. “You forget your place, Longfang! I’m your leader – you don’t question me!”

Amaryllis continued to be silent, and Fenrir grabbed her roughly by the hair. “And I wouldn’t insult whores, Longfang,” he growled into her ear. “After all, isn’t that what you are?” He pushed her away, then left her in the hallway, her eyes so fiery that they seemed to grant extra light and heat to the dim, cold den.

* * *

It was slightly after noon as Fenrir approached the invisible cottage. He was tired and hot – he hadn’t had a good day’s or night’s rest in many hours, and the black robe was making him sweat. ‘That pup better pay up,’ he thought gruffly. He halted as the air shimmered in front of him, then the cottage appeared. A tuft of black hair in the window flew out of sight, and Fenrir grinned. So, the boy was waiting for him….

The door of the cottage opened and Lupin, Snape, and Charlie Weasley trickled out slowly, wands drawn. Fenrir resisted growling at them and instead raised his arms in surrender.

“I’m not going to do anything, fools,” he snarled. If they stunned him again, he’d kill them – as soon as he woke up.

“We can’t know that, Greyback,” said Lupin, eyes hard. Fenrir glared.

“I give you my word – I won’t bite or attack any of you.”

Snape gave a harsh laugh. “Your word, wolf? What good is that?”

Fenrir smirked at him. “Well, you would know all about making promises and swearing oaths wouldn’t you, Snape?”

Lupin gave a smirk of his own, though perhaps it wasn’t directed at Fenrir. “Which is why we’re not trusting you, Greyback.”

Fenrir fumed for a moment, then barked, “So what are you going to do? Put me back in that cage?”

“Perhaps,” said Weasley.

Fenrir clenched his jaw and rasped, “I’ve made a promise with the boy, Lupin. I said I wouldn’t hurt anyone. It should be enough that he trusts me.”

“Unfortunately, Harry’s judgment is compromised,” said Lupin. “He thinks that because you and he have some sort of…bribery situation going on, you will stick to your word. I know better.”

“You don’t know me at all, Lupin,” Fenrir growled. “Just because you snuck around like some weasel among us doesn’t mean you know me!”

“I saw your dealings, Greyback,” said Lupin. “You are not an honest man.”

“Of course not,” said Fenrir impatiently. “But this is different. That boy is my mate; I’m not going to lie to him – besides, if I hurt any of you, he wouldn’t let me near him – what have I to gain by hurting any of you?”

The Weasley raised an eyebrow and glanced at Lupin.

“And how do we even know you’re his mate, Greyback?” Lupin looked slightly unhinged now. “You could be lying, you could be doing this for Voldemort –” His voice was rising alarmingly.

“Remus,” said Weasley gently. Lupin stopped his rant and lowered his wand in defeat, panting slightly. Snape was giving him a disgusted look.

“Pull yourself together, Lupin,” he spat. “They’re mates and there is nothing more to be said on that matter. I know you thought you would always be the only wolf in the boy’s life, but really, it’s time to face reality.”

Lupin spun to Snape, wand pointed at his throat. “Shut up,” he hissed. “Shut it, you foul…” Weasley quickly put a hand on Lupin’s and forcibly lowered the wand. Fenrir had the intense urge to say that maybe Lupin was the one that belonged in the cage, but for once he controlled himself – Snape’s eyes already said it plainly enough anyway.

The door flew open, and everyone turned to see Harry, who looked greatly distressed. Fenrir took a step forward but instantly all wands were trained on him, and he didn’t move another inch.

“He won’t,” Harry was muttering. “He said he wouldn’t – Remus – please….”

Lupin appeared extremely torn, wand still fixed on Fenrir, but eyes unseeing. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Lupin lowered his wand.

“I don’t like this one bit, Greyback,” said Lupin quietly. “But if that’s what Harry wants…I can’t say no anymore.” He looked defeated, and not a little bit betrayed. Harry was shifting from one foot to the other, looking guilty. Fenrir grinned – apparently he was causing some kind of rift between the two.

“But you must respect certain rules,” said Snape curtly. “You must do exactly what we tell you, when we tell you. You must not harm anyone. And you must keep that robe on.” He said the last rule rather snidely, as though the thought of anyone walking around naked was a characteristic of the lowest life form.

“As long as you keep yours on," said Fenrir snappishly. Snape sneered but jerked his wand to indicate that Fenrir should enter the cottage. Harry backed in hurriedly, and Fenrir couldn’t help but lick his lips wolfishly. Lupin pretended not to notice.

Inside, the other Weasley – Bill was his name…was standing at the table watching him steadily. There wasn’t a trace of fear about the man, and Fenrir couldn’t help but be mildly impressed. An auror that he knew to be named Tonks was also standing. The two teenagers that Fenrir had seen briefly were no where to be found, and Harry was loitering on the threshold of what appeared to be a hallway, clearly debating whether he should leave or not. Fenrir took in the cottage surroundings, and his eyes rested on a curtained off area – behind it must be where Harry slept because the scents wafting into the room from behind the curtain made Fenrir’s eyes flutter. The sound of the door closing brought Fenrir back to reality, and confidently, he pulled out a chair from the table in the middle of the room and lounged on it.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Bill muttered. Fenrir smiled his sharp-toothed smile at him, and then glanced at Harry.

“Potter has told us that you agreed to answer our questions,” said Snape, sitting ram-rod straight next to him. Charlie and Lupin remained standing somewhere behind him, but Bill and Tonks sat down as well as though they were interrogating him. Fenrir glanced at them all, then turned to Harry again.

“Actually, I didn’t – that wasn’t part of our first deal.”

Snape glared at Harry, who was starting to look angry.

“Yes it was!” he burst out from his place by the door. He took a few daring steps closer, cheeks turning red. “You agreed you’d come back and answer our questions if I–”

“Ha!” Fenrir barked out. “I did no such thing, boy – I said I wouldn’t hurt anyone, and that I’d come back. But I’ll be happy to work out a new arrangement.” He leaned forward and leered at Harry, who stumbled away.

“I – I didn’t – I don’t want –”

Fenrir leapt to his feet, despite the five wands that were instantly pointed at his throat. He thought he had been highly tolerant till this point, but if the boy was going to act like some sniveling runt, he’d let him have it. “Boy, you panted and whined like a bitch in heat when I tongue-fucked your arse, so don’t tell me that you didn’t want it!”

“That’s enough!” Lupin roared, jabbing his wand against Fenrir’s throat. Harry appeared to have frozen on the spot. Fenrir wiped some spit from his chin and sat down angrily, ignoring the disapproving squeak of the chair legs.

“Harry, go,” Lupin was saying. “Go, we’ll take care of this….”

Harry backed up and hit the door way, then quickly turned and fled.

* * *

“What happened, Harry?” asked Hermione, concern evident in her voice. Ron was sitting next to Harry awkwardly, not used to the sight of tears on his friend’s face. Harry shook his head rapidly, as though trying to rid his mind of what Greyback had said – in front of everyone, no less! It was too embarrassing to even think of.

“I – I don’t know what to do,” said Harry stiltedly. “What – what am I going to do?”

Hermione and Ron shared a look, then Hermione sat on Harry’s other side.

“I mean,” Harry continued, turning to Ron. “What about Ginny? I can’t be with her now, I can’t be with anyone now – and – and Greyback’s a man –”

“Harry, no one blames you for what happened,” said Hermione consolingly, rubbing his shoulder. “And…well, I’m sure Ginny will understand, it couldn’t be helped.”

“I don’t know much about this mate business,” said Ron, sounding far too sensible. “But it sounds like if I could smell as well as Greyback, I’d find mine…so doesn’t that mean that you’re…well, I mean, if Greyback’s a bloke – which he is…,” Ron continued. “Then well…it doesn’t sound like you were hitched together by accident.”

Harry stared at Ron, mild horror on his face. “So you think I’m – you think I’m a–”

“Homosexual?” prompted Hermione.

“Uncle Vernon called them poufs,” Harry muttered, scrubbing at his face.

“That’s a more derogatory term for it, Harry,” said Hermione with a scrunched up face.

“Fred and George call them tossers…or wankers,” said Ron, considering. Then he hastily added, “They don’t mean anything by it, Harry. They’re just joking like always.”

Harry drew his knees to his chest and hugged them miserably. “The worst part is,” he whispered. “That I feel…like I miss him when he’s not here…”

Ron and Hermione shared another look, and Hermione continued to rub Harry’s back, hoping he would share more.

“I feel…like I should defend him – but I shouldn’t feel that way! He’s terrible, and cruel…when I see him out there, I feel so scared, like he’ll hurt me…but when we’re alone…I know he won’t. I sound like such a little kid, but –”

“It’s alright, Harry,” said Hermione.

“I mean, blimey, if this had happened to me, I’d be screaming like a little girl by now,” said Ron. Harry smiled weakly at the thought of Ron doing such a thing.

“Harry, you’re doing fine; I think it’s best if you talk about it.”

Harry nodded at Hermione’s reasoning, and continued. “The moon makes me feel guilty for not being with him at night…when we – er, I mean, when I came back last night, I felt better because we’d, er –"

“Shagged,” Ron provided.

“We didn’t – I mean, that’s not exactly what –”

“Keep going, Harry,” said Hermione.

Harry sucked in a breath, then continued. “Well, I felt better because the moon let up after that. And I’m afraid it’s going to be the same tonight – it feels terrible, even when all the curtains are shut.”

“Well, you’ll just have to do it again,” said Ron simply.

Harry stared. “But – but I can’t just ‘do it again’.”

“Why not?” asked Ron, with that same reasonable voice.

“Because!” said Harry, getting upset with the ease that Ron was demonstrating.

“Harry,” said Hermione, a bit more tenderly. “It seems like that’s the only way to stop the effects of the moon.”

“But it’s horrible!” said Harry, standing up. “He – he says things, and – and does things!”

Ron frowned. “I’m not following.”

Harry threw up his hands and sat down again. “He makes me feel really stupid sometimes…like I don’t know anything about anything.”

“About sex, you mean?” asked Hermione gently.

“Well, you don’t,” said Ron confidently. “Wait – if you did, that would mean…Ginny!”

“No, no, Ron!” Harry reassured quickly, sensing Ron’s approaching fit. “Ginny and I never went further than kissing.”

“Thank Merlin,” Ron muttered.

“So he makes you feel ashamed,” Hermione prompted. She seemed determined to get Harry to continue talking.

“Yes…well, sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” asked Ron, a red eyebrow raised.

Harry’s cheeks were red now. “Other times…I feel ashamed because…I like it.” His voice was barely audible as he divulged what he considered to be the most embarrassing secret he’d ever had.

“Harry, of course you’re going to like it!” said Ron, slapping him across the back. “It’s sex, for crying out loud!”

“Harry, you shouldn’t feel ashamed for enjoying what Greyback makes you feel,” said Hermione in a motherly fashion. “He is your mate, after all.”

Harry still looked torn, but he sighed and let out a whispered, “Thanks.”

* * *

It was past dinnertime when Harry finally emerged from Ron’s room. The three had dined in order to avoid seeing Greyback, but Harry finally thought he was ready to discuss their deal with him. He was sharply surprised when he discovered Greyback was not at the table.

“Where is he?” he asked Remus.

“Outside somewhere,” said Tonks with an annoyed expression on her face.

“He left awhile ago, Harry,” said Remus, looking tired.

“What?” said Harry, shocked. “Where did he go?”

“Don’t know,” said Charlie shrugging. “He didn’t say.”

Harry quickly composed himself, but inside, he was frantic; the moon was beginning to stir.

“But I have to find him,” he said, looking from one pair of eyes to the other.
“I don’t think that’s wise, Harry,” said Remus. “He was in quite a state when you left.”

Harry bit his lip in anger and guilt. It wasn’t fair! Greyback was the one that should be feeling guilty after what he said! However, it was Harry who felt at fault for being offended – and that was just so frustrating!

“Well, I’m going to find him,” said Harry resolutely.

“Harry, no,” said Remus, getting to his feet.

“Yes, Remus,” said Harry, pocketing his wand and shouldering his cloak. “I need to. I have to work this out; otherwise he’ll never answer our questions.”

Remus stared at Harry, registering the boy’s determination, then sat down in defeat. “Go then. If you’re not back in…three hours, I’m coming after you.”

Harry nodded, then hurried out the door. The absurdity of getting a curfew as though he were heading out for a jaunt with some girl struck him, and he let out a slightly mad little laugh before donning his cloak and lighting his wand.

Greyback wasn’t too difficult to follow. Leaves were pushed out of the way on the forest floor, and low branches were broken above. It seemed that Greyback was confident that he could handle anything that tracked him – and he probably could, Harry reasoned. It wasn’t long before he heard the gentle trickling of a stream, and the trees finally cleared to reveal Greyback sitting on a log, naked once more, with his feet in the slow moving water.

“I’ve got to admit, you’re pretty good at sneaking around, pup,” he growled, again knowing Harry was there before he acknowledged himself.

“Lots of practice,” said Harry, trying to sound light. He waited for Greyback to say something, but the werewolf remained silent. Harry continued forward and removed his cloak. Daringly, he swung a leg over the log, straddling it to face Greyback sideways. He looked wet – beads of water were glistening in the moonlight on his chest, and Harry gulped.

“Been swimming?” Harry was horrified to hear his voice at a higher octave, and he shut his eyes.

“I like to when I’m pissed on beer…the only thing muggles do right. Tonight, I just needed to cool off.”

Harry nodded, and stared at the water to avoid the miles of naked man in front of him...perhaps he really was a tosser…or a wanker…or a pouf –

“What are you doing here, boy?”

Harry was startled out of his mental listing of gay slurs before he looked at Greyback, who was glaring at him with yellow eyes.

“Well…I wanted to apologize for earlier.” It was strange – it was easier to accept his feelings of guilt now, with the moon on his face.

Greyback looked at him appraisingly. “You admit you did wrong, then?”

Harry couldn’t help but raise his chin defiantly at this. “I didn’t do anything wrong, I just misunderstood what our bargain was.”

“Ah, I see,” said Greyback, looking at the water. For some reason he appeared amused, and this left Harry puzzled. He looked down at the log he was sitting on and began to trace the ridges in the wood to distract himself from the silence that had descended upon them.

Suddenly, Greyback stood up. Harry followed him with his eyes as the werewolf stretched to his full height then walked into the water. Soon, he was waist deep in it, and he turned to Harry.

“You should come in,” he rasped.

Harry shook his head. “No…no, that’s okay…” Greyback fixed him with a commanding stare and began to wade towards him.

“I – I don’t really like water too much,” said Harry, babbling inanely as Greyback advanced on him. “See, I had this pretty bad experience in fourth year – I had to get Ron away from the Mermaids – and there were Grindylows, and Moaning Myrtle showed up...probably a Giant Squid was in the water as well –”

“There aren’t any of those in here,” Greyback growled, reaching for him. “Just me.”

“Oh, is that all?” asked Harry sarcastically, trying to pull his leg out of Greyback’s hand. Greyback stood suddenly, drenching Harry’s pant leg with water.

“Come on, take these off,” said Greyback gruffly, pulling on Harry’s shoes.

With the combined effort of Greyback and the encouraging rays on the moon, Harry sighed, and tugged off his shoes and socks. He was surprised to feel that the water was relatively warm.

“I hope you didn’t think you were getting off that easily, boy,” said Greyback, reaching for Harry’s zipper. “You’re coming in whether or not you want to.”

Harry glared, but he knew the only way he’d get through any of this was if he did so willingly. Putting up a fight would only make him regret the inevitable more.

Greyback let out a pleased rumble when Harry was finally naked and following him into the water. Harry quickly submerged himself, not wanting to be exposed for too long – his comfort lasted only a few moments before Greyback had him by the arm and was pulling him to his chest. Greyback let out a whistle.

“You’re even lighter in the water, pup. I didn’t think that was possible.”

Harry shrugged, then yelped when he felt a sharp pinch to his bum.

“At least you’ve got some meat on you,” said Greyback laughing.

Harry’s face burned, and he hid his face in the only place available, which was Greyback’s chest. Wet chest hair slid against his face and strong arms held him there. Harry knew it was crazy, but even though Greyback was teasing him, he felt safe from the man’s barbs when he was in his arms. Was that even possible, to feel safe with someone so cruel? He’d have to ask Hermione….

“Hmm…you like this, boy?”

Harry shivered at the low rumble that resonated against his face, and flushed when he realized he did like it – perhaps too much. He tried to pull away, but Greyback tightened his hold and brought a large, muscled thigh in between Harry’s skinny ones. Harry whimpered and clung to the werewolf’s shoulders, trying to support himself so that he didn’t have to straddle that hard thigh and thus cause weird feelings… he moaned as he failed miserably and threw his arms around Greyback’s neck, burying his flaming face into the chest in front of him. Greyback let out another one of those shiver-inducing rumbles and said, “That’s more like it.” He flexed his thigh and Harry shuddered.

Really, this was too much. It took only about a minute before Harry was panting and rutting against Greyback’s thigh. He felt Greyback’s own erection pulsing against his stomach, hot and hard, and he groaned as he pressed against it. They were both moving now – the water was sloshing around them, and Greyback’s nose was buried in his hair, sniffing – did he really smell good? Harry, if possible, turned even redder as he remembered what Greyback had said about him earlier, about panting and whining – he cried out in spite of himself.

“Ah, yes…that’s it,” said Greyback encouragingly. He always said that...like he liked hearing Harry…. The thought made Harry moan again. He really needed to find out if this was normal –

Greyback was letting out a continuous growl by now, grinding himself into Harry’s stomach, his hands wandering from Harry’s hips to his arse to his thighs, each stoke of his hands more possessive than the last, leaving Harry breathless.

“Gr – Greyback –” Harry panted, wanting to sound coherent and have something to say.


Harry’s eyes slid shut as the name was growled into his ear. He tried to say it, he really did. But as his teeth pressed against his lower lip to make the “F” sound, he cried out instead, and shuddered violently against the older man as his orgasm was ripped from his body. Greyback – Fenrir now – roared into the night and thrust against Harry’s limp body until he too climaxed, roughly jerking and shuddering, then he held Harry to him as they drifted slowly in the water. Harry hazily came to and realized that his legs had somehow wrapped around the werewolf’s waist, and he disentangled himself slowly, wincing.

“That was quite a show,” said Fenrir, sounding very self-satisfied. “She enjoyed it.”

“Oh, shut up,” said Harry without any real force behind it. Fenrir laughed and pulled them towards the water’s edge. They got out and Harry dried himself with an incantation (Fenrir refused to be magically dried), Harry dressed, then they began to walk back to the cottage. It was pitch black around them, except for the light emitted by Harry’s wand, but Harry felt unthreatened – he had quite the body guard.

Soon they reached the cottage – Harry was shamefully pleased that Remus didn’t come storming out once he got home. He walked up the steps, then turned to see Fenrir pulling his robe over his head but not following him.

“Aren’t you coming in?” Harry asked.

Fenrir shook his head, hair elongated by the water. “I doubt your dog would be too pleased.”

Harry bit his lip. “Then…where are you going?” He tried to deny it, but he didn’t want Fenrir to go back the cave. It seemed so far….

Fenrir shrugged. “I’ll find someplace. Maybe I’ll sleep under here.” He kicked a foot in the direction of the crawlspace beneath the cottage. It was directly under where Harry’s bed would be.

“Oh,” said Harry, feeling strange. “Okay then.” They stared at each other for a moment. Harry knew he should just turn around and go inside but – wasn’t something else supposed to happen?

Fenrir let out a huff, then started up the steps – Harry’s heart sped up. He was towering over him now – Harry tilted his chin to see him. Fenrir lowered his face and butted his nose against Harry’s ear, then gave his cheek a lick. A tremor went through Harry’s entire body and he couldn’t help but sigh and lean in…nuzzle his own nose into grey-streaked hair, even though it was wet…. Fenrir pulled back, and Harry’s eyes re-opened.

“Go inside now,” he rasped. “I’m sure he’s worried about you.”

Harry nodded, and Fenrir turned and trotted down the steps, then crouched to the ground to investigate the crawlspace. Harry turned to the door, whispered “Pygmy Puffs” , then turned to see Fenrir disappearing under the cottage. Harry shook his head, walked through the door, shut it, then leaned against it and let out an exhausted, shuddering sigh. The sight of his bed illuminated by the moon drew him, and he only had time to pull off his shoes and socks before collapsing onto it, not even noticing Remus check up on him then pull the curtain around his bed shut, thoughts of golden eyes and low rumbles and gentle licks filling his dreams.  



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