Sweet Puppy

Chapter 7

Remus massaged the bridge of his nose as though trying to stimulate patience; he had been trying to talk to Harry for several minutes, and was tired of monosyllable answers.

“Harry, you still haven’t told us why you thought a Horcrux was in that cave.”

Harry lifted his chin from his hand and turned from the window, a slightly bored expression on his face. Snape snorted in irritation.

“Yes, please regale us with your feeble excuses as to why you acted before your entourage arrived,” sneered Snape, looking superior.

Harry glared. “I’m not going to tell you anything, Snape.”

“That’s ‘Professor’ to you, Potter,” said Snape glaring back.

“I’m not in school anymore, Snape, I can call you whatever the hell I want.”

Snape leaned forward across the table, an ugly snarl on his face. “Listen, you ungrateful snob, if it hadn’t been for me you’d be crawling on all fours after that mongrel–”

“Stop!” Remus interrupted, looking exceptionally tired. “Severus, please. Try to be the adult here.”

“So Potter has an excuse to act like a Neanderthal because he is only seventeen?” said Snape, crossing his arms and legs simultaneously. “Well if that is the way things are to be run, I can’t say I’ll be staying much longer.”

“Good,” said Harry rudely, getting up and kicking his chair under the table. “I’ll talk to you later, Remus – when he’s gone.”

Remus let out an exasperated sigh as Harry slammed the door shut. He was going outside again, to Greyback…he had been spending more and more time outside with the werewolf, doing who knew what. Remus was growing more and more worried about Harry – he had suffered from the traumatic ordeal of witnessing Dumbledore’s death. Then, he had become obsessed with finishing a dying man’s wish and saving the world – now, he had been thrown into the underground lives of werewolves. The pressure was hefty, but not unbearable as long as Harry stayed focused. But now, Harry seemed to be losing his fire.

Remus had never considered Harry to be the submissive or easily frightened type. However, now that Greyback was involved – in a manner of speaking – Harry had a vent for his long-buried anxieties and fears, someone who he thought could protect him and depend on. In Remus’ opinion, Greyback was dangerous no matter how connected he was to Harry.

“Well, you messed that up, Severus,” said Remus, running a hand through his grey-flecked hair.

Snape made a dismissive sound and said, “You didn’t need my help to do that, Lupin. Your mollycoddling wasn’t helping.”

“I was doing no such thing, Severus.”

“If that’s the case, let him day dream about the beast as much as he wants.”

Remus glared. “He wasn’t daydreaming about him.”

“Oh no?” said Snape loftily. “And here I thought you knew your old friend’s son.”

“Don’t push me, Snape,” said Remus. There was nothing more to say; Remus’ eyes threatened all.

Snape simply sneered at him, and the two old school rivals continued perusing Sirius’ old school books, deliberately not looking out the window where Harry was talking with Greyback.

Outside, Harry sat on the steps, chin in his hands, as Fenrir sunbathed in nothing but a pair of Charlie’s old denim shorts. Every now and then Fenrir would scratch at the worn fabric, pulling at the shorts and grumbling. Harry had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing at him; Fenrir would give him a dirty look every time he saw Harry do this, but couldn’t help the strange butterfly feeling he’d get in his stomach – the boy’s cheeky grin made Fenrir want to grab him by the scruff of the neck, throw him to the ground, and wrestle under the sun for hours until the boy lay limp in his arms. Fenrir didn’t of course – Lupin and the rest of the clan would surely come pouring out of the house waving their sticks, and the boy would once again be terrified of him. So Fenrir kept his paws to himself, contenting his libido with long penetrating stares to the boy’s slender yet resilient form.

“What’d you come out for this time?” asked Fenrir.

Harry shrugged and didn’t answer.

Fenrir snorted and stretched under the warming rays of the sun. Being underground for over a year had gotten extremely claustrophobic, and Fenrir had missed the sun, although he would never admit it. Werewolves were nocturnal creatures – to let your skin darken like a human was disgraceful – but at that moment, Fenrir didn’t care; he had a beautiful young pup to distract him from the violation of his own rules.

“Did they kick you out then?” Fenrir asked, scratching at his stomach.

“No,” said Harry. “Snape was being a bastard.”

“How could you tell?” Fenrir asked, grinning his sharp teeth.

Harry smiled at him. Fenrir’s cock twitched and he scratched at himself, causing Harry to redden and look at the ground. Fenrir grinned again.

“Want me to give him a talking to?”

Harry shook his head quickly. “Don’t, or he’ll be even worse.”

Fenrir’s eyebrows furrowed. “He’s saying things about me?”

“No, he just treats me like I’m stupid,” said Harry with annoyance.

Fenrir chuckled at the boy’s predictable righteous attitude. “Coming into my cave without backup was stupid.”

Harry’s bottom lip puffed out slightly. “Don’t you start too.”

“Maybe you should just admit that what you did was foolish,” said Fenrir, stretching his back and groaning as his spine twisted. He heard a scuffle, and opened his eyes to see Harry standing on the bottom stair, hands balled into fists at his sides.

“I came out here for a break from all that, but I guess I’m not going to get it, so you can just stay out here and I’ll go back in.”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” said Fenrir, grabbing at a skinny ankle. Harry tried to kick his hand away, but Fenrir was too strong – he gave a hard tug, and Harry yelped and fell to his knees. Fenrir grinned and rolled over the boy – it looked like he’d get his wrestling match after all.

As far as matches go, it wasn’t a long one; Fenrir overpowered Harry easily, pinning the squirming boy underneath him. Fenrir could tell that Harry was angry, and his pack instincts took over. This was no different than some pigheaded whelp who thought he was bigger than he was, and Fenrir had to show him who was in charge. He gave a warning growl, but Harry kept squirming, so Fenrir opened his jaws and covered the back of Harry’s neck with his teeth, applying what he considered to be a gentle pressure. Harry let out a cry…a very arousing cry. Fenrir couldn’t help it – he bit down harder, increasing the whimpers that streamed out of Harry’s lips. Fenrir began to grind his swelling cock against the boy’s arse and reached a clawed hand underneath the boy’s thigh to grab at his denim clad cock, rubbing his palm across it brutally.

Harry had stopped fighting now – he was lying docilely under the powerful man as he was fondled roughly, occasionally whimpering as teeth scraped against his neck. Overwhelming heat was traveling through his body as panting breath ruffled his hair and a hot erection pressed against him. He knew he shouldn’t just lie here like this, knew that he should call for help – Fenrir was biting him! – but he didn’t. Instead his body, out of his control, arched its back as much as it could, and he pressed his arse to the inviting heat, spreading his thighs to accommodate the insidious hand. The way Fenrir touched him…as though he had every right to treat him like a plaything.... It was as if Fenrir thought he could do whatever he wanted with him– Harry reminded himself that he probably did. It was such an invasive, possessive touch – and it drove all thoughts of Voldemort and Snape and Horcruxes from his mind.

He didn’t have time to savor his mind’s freedom; the door flew open and Remus came charging down the steps, wand drawn and bellowing. Mortified, Harry buried his face in his arms and above him Fenrir groaned in frustration and rolled off.

“Get off him, you evil bloodthirsty dog!” Remus screamed, eyes huge and furious.

Fenrir snarled and backed away, body in a low position as though he was getting ready to attack. Harry quickly sprang to his feet and stood between them, arms spread to prevent any movement.

“Remus – don’t, it’s okay, I’m fine –”

“You’re bleeding, Harry, you’re not fine.”

“Only a bit,” said Harry, wiping at the back of his neck.

“It doesn’t matter how much!” Remus shouted, eyes still furious. “The point is he hurt you, and I told him that I would not tolerate it! Not for one minute, not for one second!”

Fenrir rolled his eyes. “I was just giving him some discipline, Lupin…I thought you and Snape would appreciate that.”

“It is not up to you to decide how to discipline him, Greyback!” Remus shouted, wand still drawn. “You’re not in charge around here!”

“Well you weren’t doing a good job. Someone needed to step in,” said Fenrir, drawing himself up to stand at his full height.

“Don’t tell me how to handle this –”

“Maybe you should just hand him over,” said Fenrir, smiling nastily. “I’ll save you the trouble, take the stress off your back –”

Fenrir broke off as Harry shoved a fist against his chest. Fenrir glanced down at Harry’s warning glare. Fenrir assessed him for a few moments, then laughed and ruffled the boy’s hair.

“He’s adorable, isn’t he, Lupin?”

Remus glared and strengthened his grip on is wand.

“Fine,” said Fenrir shortly. “I’ll leave you to it. But I’m coming back tonight to finish what we started, boy.” Fenrir leaned down and nipped at the side of Harry’s neck, giving his backside a hard slap, then turned and headed for the trees. Harry watched him go, glad that a fight had been avoided. He kept his eyes on Fenrir’s retreating back as long as he could, wanting to delay the lecture that was sure to hit him as soon as he shifted his gaze.

“Harry,” he heard Remus say quietly behind him. “Harry, I don’t ever want to see anything like that again.”

“Like what?” Harry asked.

“Don’t play innocent, Harry. And look at me,” said Remus sternly. Harry slowly turned and looked up at Remus, ready to see an angry glare. He was shocked when instead he saw a distraught expression on his former professor’s face.

“Harry,” Remus said, a bit choked. “Harry, you’re all I have.”

Harry stared, unable to think of anything to say or do.

“I – I’ve lost James and – Sirius – if anything happened to you – anything that I could have prevented…”

Harry shifted his feet awkwardly. Remus had never really talked like this before. He had been stern with him when mentioning James, or reminiscent, but had never shown this aching grief and desperation.

“I just can’t lose you too.”

“You – you won’t…,” said Harry weakly. Honestly, he couldn’t promise anything of the sort, but he was willing to say anything to appease Remus.

Remus shook his head.

“I know I can’t know that,” said Harry, interrupting Remus before he could start. “But I can promise you that you won’t lose me to him – to Greyback.”

Remus shook his head again, then raised his sad eyes to Harry.

“I promise,” said Harry, more firmly.

Remus smiled tightly, his golden eyes betraying his doubt. “All right. As long as you promise.”


* * *


Fenrir stalked through the brush towards the stream. He needed to jerk off – badly. It had been two days since that night under the moon, two nights of sleeping beneath the cottage with the boy’s bed above him. Sometimes he swore he could hear little moans and shifting floor boards, but often it was just his imagination.

In Fenrir’s experience of witnessing mating among his pack, neither party ever refused for long. There might be some resistance initially, but never this back-and-forth shifting of attention. Sometimes Harry was receptive, other times he wasn’t, and it was driving Fenrir crazy – and to resist the pack leader! How audacious of the boy!

Fenrir growled and kicked a stone out of the path he had made earlier. Should he just go back to the cave? The full moon was close now. Only one more week…he couldn’t be around people then, or he’d surely attack them. He’d have to go to the cave for that night – would the pack find that suspicious? After all, he was supposed to be stalking and possibly meeting with another pack of werewolves, who would all supposedly be in beast form along with him. Surely the core would be suspicious.

“Fuck,” said Fenrir, kicking another stone. This was all too complicated. All he wanted was to grab the boy by the scruff of the neck and take him far away where they could roll around in the sun and fuck under the moon. His cock gave an interested twitch and he growled again and reached for the zipper of the damned shorts he was forced to wear. Roughly pulling the zipper down, Fenrir yanked off the shorts and kicked them in the direction of the log he had been sitting on two nights ago. He flung himself down onto the sandy bank and ground his back into the coarse sand, giving his skin a much needed scratch.

Fenrir trailed a clawed hand down through the patch of hair above his cock and played with it, folding his other arm behind his head for a make-shift pillow. He spread his legs a bit and sighed low and deep – this was good. The smell of the boy’s hair was still in his nose, and he inhaled deeply and growled, grabbing his cock and squeezing.

Images of his mate’s first time came back to his mind. Yes, he knew he hurt the boy, but there really wasn’t any way he could have prevented it. He’d never had sex any other way, hadn’t ever used anything to make the penetration easier and he certainly wasn’t going to mush the whole thing up like humans did, with that candle light and rose-petal shit. No, face down to the dirt was the way he liked his partners. The water had been lovely as well. He had thought that after that night, Harry would crave sex more, but he seemed to be gaining the confidence needed to resist. Fenrir couldn’t figure out if this was good or not.

The far off sound of crunching leaves caused Fenrir to sit up. Someone was coming, and his nose told him it was a female – Tonks or the Hermione girl…Harry’s friend. He knew he’d have to respect the rules around them, and he grudgingly pulled the shorts back on, then resumed his sun bathing, adopting a nonchalant posture to convey his utter lack of fear.

A nose whiff later told him that the younger of the two was approaching. What could she want?

Right on schedule, a quiet yet confident voice called him, and he acknowledged the girl with a grunt and a wave. He heard her shoes scuff against the pebbles on the bank and the soft crush of clothing as she sat on the log.

“Hello Mr. Greyback,” she said.

“Good day,” said Fenrir, mocking her formality. Then he said, “Don’t call me that, it sounds strange.”

“Greyback then?”


He could see her now. She looked like the smart type – a slightly raised chin, hair off her face, though rather bushy, and a straight back; someone worth sitting up for…or at least propping the upper body up with the elbows.

“Greyback,” she began, loosening up slightly. “I’ve come to ask you some questions about werewolf mating – not only for Harry, but because I’m rather curious about the whole process –”

“Well that’s a pleasant change – most wizards don’t even bother with the interrogation before throwing us into cages,” said Fenrir with grinning teeth.

Hermione had the decency to look ashamed of her peers.

“I happen to enjoy learning,” she said somewhat defensively. “And if it can help Harry – well, I just want to help.”

Fenrir nodded, then scooted forward. Hermione tensed, but Fenrir only moved so that his back was against the log. They both stared at the lake for a moment before Fenrir broke the silence with, “He’s terrified of me, isn’t he?”

Hermione paused, then said, “No – no, I don’t think so. I think he’s just confused.”

“And you hope to clear it all up for him, right? Well you tell him to get his arse down here, and I’ll make it clear for him.”

Hermione’s mouth thinned. “I don’t think that’s the best way to handle the situation.”

“You do a lot of thinking,” snorted Fenrir.

Hermione ignored the comment and said, “Greyback, my first question is this: is there only one mate for every person in the world? Or are there multiple possible partners?”

Fenrir smirked at her. “Looking for a loop hole for him, eh?”

Hermione blushed but didn’t deny the accusation.

Fenrir sighed and leaned his head against the log. “The truth is, I have no idea. I’ve been fucking since I was fourteen, with no hang-ups about any of the lucky wolves. But after I scented Harry, I didn’t have any desire for any one else.”

Hermione looked shrewd. “How do you know that?”

Fenrir looked uneasy. It was still hard to believe himself but, “I had an opportunity while I was gone to take up with one of the pack – but I refused. There was no interest – at all. She just seemed… ugly somehow.”

Hermione looked thoughtful. “And will it be the same for Harry?”

Fenrir shrugged. “It should be. But then, he doesn’t seem to have much interest in me.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” said Hermione with pink cheeks, her voice slightly higher.

Fenrir turned to her, the corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk. “Oh, really?”

“Well, obviously he’s still frightened of you, though he’ll never admit it,” said the bushy-haired girl quickly. “But I think he erm…needs someone. Especially now, and I think he thinks you might be that someone.”

Fenrir turned his eyes toward the stream, looking almost comically pensive.

“Well he better figure it out, and fast. Who knows how much longer I’ll be polite.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “I wouldn’t call your behavior polite, exactly.”

Fenrir barked out a laugh. “You’ve got guts, girl. Not many would dare correct me without a set of bars between us.”

Hermione blushed, but looked pleased from the compliment.

“Anything else?” said Fenrir, resuming the conversation.

Hermione looked nervous. “Yes, actually…what will you do when the full moon comes?”

“What do you mean, what will I do?” asked Fenrir. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“No, I mean – will you complete the change – or take the Wolfsbane potion, like Remus?”

A week ago, Fenrir would have ridiculed the girl, spat in her face, said that he would rather swallow nails than drink something made by wizards, not to mention deny the change – but now, he wasn’t so sure. He had never contemplated not changing into what he considered his true form – the option was never there, wizards were altogether untrustworthy. In earlier days, Fenrir had heard of wizards who lied, who said they had the cure, when in fact the potion had been poison, killing hundreds of werewolves, hopeful for relief. The Wolfsbane potion was almost legendary to him, had it not been for seeing it in the hands of Lupin recently. The idea of resisting the mother moon went against every principle that he had ever held to believe, and went against every rule he had ever established for his pack – but then, he had never needed to keep his human state of mind before.

Hermione waited in silence as Fenrir appeared to be debating the decision fiercely, his whole focus trained out across the lake. He looked lost.

With almost dazed eyes, Fenrir turned to face Hermione. His mouth opened, and no words came. It was almost distressing to see such a powerful being look so hesitant.

Finally, in an unsure rasp, Fenrir asked "What does Harry want me to do?"  



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