Sweet Puppy

Chapter 8

Harry strode through the door, glad that Remus had decided to join Tonks and Charlie on the scouting trip. He was greeted by Snape, who threw down the journals he was perusing in frustration.

“I’m sick of reading memoirs of trite family matters and reckless pranks, so out with it, Potter. Why that cave?”

“Where’s Malfoy?” Harry countered.

Snape glared. “I don’t see how his whereabouts concern you.”

Harry shrugged. “You tell me something, I tell you something. Otherwise, I don’t see how my business concerns you.”

Snape sneered. “Ever the petulant child, Potter.”

Harry sneered right back, then left the kitchen in search of Ron and Hermione. They turned out to be in Ron’s room, Hermione trying to dislodge a minute spider from under Ron’s bed, while Ron stood on a chair.

“Oh, I see it, it’s just – it’s just about out –”

“Hurry up!” Ron was yelling, not even maintaining a shred of dignity.

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Oh, shut up Harry!” said Ron.

“Aha!” exulted Hermione, emerging from her crouched position, holding the spider by one spindly leg.

“Put the bloody thing down, Hermione! How you can even touch it –”

“Simple, really,” said Hermione, opening the window over Ron’s bed and chucking the spider into the wind. “I remain rational.”

Harry caught her smirk and offered one of his own.

Ron bristled, and snapped, “Shut the window,” before coming down from the chair and collapsing onto his bed.

Harry crossed the room and joined him, letting his hands fall onto his stomach.

“Harry, you’re bleeding a bit,” said Hermione, drawing her wand.

“Oh, yeah,” said Harry, sitting up and letting her heal the cut. He felt for a scar and said, “Nice one,” when he felt none.

“Thanks,” said Hermione. “Care to tell how you got that?”

“Greyback” Harry muttered, flopping backwards again.

“Really?” asked Ron, eyebrows rising. “What happened? He got angry?”

Harry shrugged. “I guess…got a real kick out of it, he did.”

“Barking mad,” said Ron, shaking his head. There was a pause, then Ron chuckled. “Get it? Barking mad?”

“Really witty, Ronald,” said Hermione scathingly, before storming out of the room.

“Now where’s she off to?” said Ron, sitting up.

“You got me,” said Harry, covering his eyes and sighing.

“Women, eh?” said Ron.

“I’m almost glad I don’t have to deal with them,” said Harry wearily.

“Oh yeah…,”

A knock on the door frame caused Harry and Ron to look up.

“So I heard there was a spider,” said Bill with a grin on his face.

“Shove off, Bill,” Ron huffed.

“Really, Ron, you need to get over that. What if the Death Eaters employ Acromantulas as an army or something?”

“Not funny at all.”

Bill laughed and walked into the room, then rocked back as he caught sight of Harry’s rumpled clothes and even messier hair. “Jesus, Harry, you look like hell. What were you and Greyback up to?”

Harry flushed and glared at Bill. “We weren’t up to anything, he jumped me –”

“What, during the day?” asked Bill, looking surprised.

“Yeah, what of it?”

“It’s just unusual, that’s all,” said Bill, rubbing the back of his neck.

“What do you mean?” asked Harry, sitting up fully.

“Well, the moon is what controls a werewolf’s sexual drive, isn’t it? …Day activity is rare….”

“Wait, that’s stupid,” said Ron. “People have sex during the day.”

“Werewolves aren’t human, Ron – not completely,” said Bill, sighing and sitting in the chair. “You think werewolves are all like Remus…but most people who are bitten can’t fight the mutation like him – it takes them over, so that you’re a werewolf first, a human second – sometimes not even a human at all, like Greyback. I figured Greyback lost his human side awhile ago, especially when he went through that barmy ‘I-like-blood’ phase…but maybe not.”

“So what are you saying?” asked Harry, looking slightly panicked.

“My only guess is that Greyback’s human side was responsible for today,” said Bill, looking thoughtful. “Maybe there’s hope for him yet.”

“That’s why he doesn’t like wearing clothes and stuff then,” said Ron.

Bill nodded. “He thinks clothes are a product of human society, that he doesn’t need them because he’s a werewolf. It’s also why he doesn’t sleep inside, or eat cooked food among other things.”

Why he licks me instead of kisses me…’ thought Harry, biting his lip. As soon as the thought entered his brain, he felt the hot breath against the side of his face, ghosting against his ear and neck as a warm velvet tongue slid up his cheek; it made his face flush and warm tingles shot down his spine as his thighs tensed. Neither of the Weasleys noticed, apparently too caught up in thought.

“I mean, don’t get the wrong impression,” said Bill quickly. Most werewolves hide their identity and are ashamed of it…Greyback and his followers are the loony ones. Completely mad. Greyback’s behavior is even more surprising, considering the moon is getting stronger,” Bill mused, breaking Harry out of his trance.

“Oh, yeah… Harry, what’s he going to do about that?” asked Ron, freckles standing out.

Harry shrugged jerkily, annoyed that Ron expected him to know. “It’s not like we have conversations about this stuff – how should I know what he’s going to do?”

Ron shrugged back.

Bill noticed Harry’s spurt of anger and raised his eyebrows. “Maybe you should be talking to him about it. You’re the only one he listens to after all.”

“That’s not true – you’re wrong, Bill,” said Harry, standing up and heading for the door. “He doesn’t listen to me.”

“Hey, where’re you going?” asked Ron.

Harry paused in the door way. He realized that he had been planning to seek out Greyback, even though he didn’t want to see or talk to him at all. “I don’t know,” he said, more annoyed with himself than anybody.


* * *


“Harry’s coming,” Fenrir muttered to the girl as they continued walking back to the cottage.

“Oh,” said Hermione, trying to ignore the surrealism of strolling through the woods with the most dangerous werewolf in Britain.

“What am I going to do with him?” Fenrir growled. The question was not seeking an answer, but Hermione responded anyway.

“Perhaps talking to him would be the best option.”

“He doesn’t need to say anything for me to understand how he feels,” said Fenrir with a wry smile.

“Certainly you must talk to him about the full moon at least,” Hermione prompted gently, not wanting to offend.

“I know,” Fenrir growled. “Fuck.”

“Hermione?” called Harry’s voice through the trees. “Are you here?”

“I’m here, Harry!” Hermione called back.

The sound of crashing brush could be heard, along with a loud “Reducto!” and then Harry appeared, panting, with a look of shock across his face.

“What are you doing?” he asked Fenrir accusingly.

“We were talking, Harry,” said Hermione quickly.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Harry practically spat. “Don’t you realize that he could kill you if he wanted?”

Fenrir narrowed his eyes, not entirely sure if he was comfortable with Harry’s protectiveness over the girl.

“Turning into Lupin, are we?” Fenrir growled.

Harry looked up at Fenrir and lowered his drawn wand.

“Sorry,” he said shortly. “Can’t be too careful.”

“Agreed,” said Fenrir. He glanced at Hermione then jerked his head towards the direction of the cottage. “Go keep your red-headed friend company.”

Hermione gave Harry an apologetic look then turned and headed for the cottage, leaving Harry alone with his mate.

“Panting is a good look for you,” said Fenrir as soon as the girl was out of sight.

Harry glared, then forced his chest to stop heaving in and out.

“The blush is nice too,” said Fenrir with a growl, advancing towards Harry’s slighter form.

“Stop it,” said Harry weakly, raising his hands. His fists met Fenrir’s chest dully, and Fenrir grinned.

“It’s been two days,” he whispered into Harry’s ear. He couldn’t resist nipping the lobe gently.

“You’re not supposed to –” Harry was saying, palms pressed flat against Fenrir’s chest, pushing in vein. “It’s – the moon’s not out yet –”

“What’s that got to do with this?” Fenrir rumbled, grabbing Harry’s wrist and pressing the palm to his own hard cock.

Harry made an indistinct noise in his throat as Fenrir’s teeth glided down his neck and across his jaw, not hard enough to hurt but with just enough pressure to convince Harry to stay put. He tried to remove his hand from the warmth of Fenrir’s crotch, but abandoned the idea when Fenrir growled and strengthened the grip around his slim wrist. It hurt; there would surely be bruises later, but Harry didn’t complain further. Fenrir slid his other hand around Harry’s waist and down to cup his arse. He gave it a squeeze and rumbled his pleasure into Harry’s ear.

“Come on, boy,” he growled. “Make that noise I like so much.”

Harry whimpered, the sound coming forth involuntarily, and his fingers twitched against the thin denim over Fenrir’s cock. Fenrir growled, letting go of Harry’s hand, and slid both of his own to Harry’s thighs and lifted him roughly. Harry yelped in surprise and was forced to fling his arms around the man’s neck so as not to fall, and could only hold on as Fenrir moved into a dense area of bushes.

“Right here,” Fenrir was muttering, and he dropped to his knees and released Harry before yanking down his own zipper.

“Take those off,” he barked. Harry didn’t need to be told twice, and he pulled off his shirt and shoes. His own body was beginning the thrum with excitement, and his mind, which had been shouting about moons not being out and the wrongness of it all was silenced when Fenrir was finally naked and looming over him. Fenrir was right – it had been two days, two days that Harry had spent thinking about the water and the moon and the goodnight lick, and it was all too much waiting.

Fenrir was laughing at him. “What an eager little puppy you are,” he said, crawling on all fours, forcing Harry to his back.

“Not as eager as you,” Harry countered, somewhat weakly. Fenrir laughed, his sharp teeth visible, and he pushed his cock against Harry’s flat stomach. Harry inhaled sharply, and his hands convulsed, not knowing where to go. Could he touch Fenrir? Was it allowed? Did he even want to? The last question threw him off and he laid there, completely caught up in the idea.

Fenrir noticed the sudden stillness, and he grabbed Harry’s wrists and pinned them above the boy’s head, liking the look of a resistant pup. He grinned and bent down to lick his mate’s neck and ear, relishing the little gasps that followed, all the while grinding into the boy’s denim-covered erection.

“Should I – I mean,” Harry quickly silenced himself, shocked that he had almost volunteered to take off his jeans. Unfortunately, Fenrir was smarter than his brutish appearance let on, and he leered down at Harry as he jerked down the zipper.

“Up,” he said sharply, and Harry obligingly lifted his hips as his jeans were pulled down. Fenrir’s eyes were locked on his underwear, which Harry realized were the same brand of thin crisp cotton that he had been wearing that first night – a jolt of fear and arousal went through Harry, and he pressed his thighs together, hoping to suppress both feelings.

Fenrir appeared mesmerized by the underwear, and he lowered himself to his elbows, mouth parted and breath fluttering against the outline of Harry’s cock. Harry bit his lip and his fingers clenched spasmodically – he was terrified of being fucked again, but he was incredibly aroused, and he was just so confused–

“Stop thinking so much,” growled Fenrir, nuzzling the soft flesh of Harry’s thigh. “I won’t fuck you.” The unspoken ‘yet’ resonated in Harry’s head, but he relaxed and allowed Fenrir’s questing nose to push his thighs apart, and he gasped when Fenrir’s heavy warm tongue lapped against his inner thigh.

“That’s it,” Fenrir rumbled, his gravely voice making Harry’s thighs tremble. Harry let out a vague “oh” sound, and covered his eyes with his hands; Fenrir was mouthing his cock and balls through his underwear and his hips wouldn’t stop twitching, and he had to cover his eyes because the white was blinding. Dimly, Harry felt Fenrir’s nails scratching as his underwear was pulled down, and then Fenrir’s mouth was on him and he cried out, his hands fisting into his own hair.

“Oh, I – I can’t,” said Harry, panting. His hips were bucking so much that Fenrir had to restrain him, and he bit his lower lip to quiet any more sounds. Harry could feel himself tensing, and there was no way he could last much longer, and he let out a particularly embarrassing whine when Fenrir took him deep into his throat, and then he was coming, white spots dancing across his eyes, and the smell of sweat, dirt, and come filled the air. Fenrir growled around his spurting cock and wrapped a hand around his own erection, bringing himself to climax as well. The werewolf’s growls of pleasure brought on incredible aftershocks, and Harry lay trembling for several minutes. He was vaguely aware of Fenrir licking at his sweat-slicked thighs and cleaning off the stray come, but he was too exhausted to protest.

“As pretty as you look like that, you might want to get up,” Fenrir growled, leering at him. “Someone might come looking for you.”

Harry groaned, and somewhat reluctantly sat up, casting around for his clothes and pointedly not looking at Fenrir; he was embarrassed enough as it was.

Harry found his shirt and pulled it over his mussed hair before smoothing out the wrinkles. He knew he must look bad, and surely Snape would snicker, and Ron would be uncomfortable around him and maybe a little disgusted, and Remus would–

“Mad things, clothes,” grunted Fenrir, pawing at his cock, trying to tuck it down into the confines of Charlie’s old shorts.

“Not really,” said Harry, pushing a foot into a sock. “They keep you warm…and protect you from stuff.”

“Stuff,” Fenrir repeated mockingly.

Harry flushed. “You know what I mean – what if you step on something sharp? Shoes protect you. And houses, they protect you from bad weather –”

“A cave does the same thing,” interrupted Fenrir. “If you’re dumb enough to step on something sharp, you toughen up, then wise up.”

Harry frowned; this wasn’t really about houses or clothes. “You’ll say bad things about anything human – but you forget that you’re human too.”

“I was born one,” said Fenrir gruffly. “But after I was bitten, I saw things through new eyes – I consider myself lucky. Humans are weak.”

“Then why did you just – do what you did?” said Harry angrily.

Fenrir growled at him, his eyes glowing. “What are you even talking about?”

“You’re a werewolf,” said Harry, his voice rising. “So the moon controls when you want me – and the moon isn’t out. If you can’t figure out what I’m saying, you’re stupider than you look – and that’s saying something.”

Fenrir’s face screwed up in anger. Then he backhanded Harry across the face.

Harry gasped on impact; he was too winded to move for a few seconds. He heard Fenrir get to his feet, and he turned his head up to see him, but his glasses had been knocked off and he could only see a blurry shadowed figure. The leaves crunched, and he knew Fenrir had gone.

“Where are you going?” Harry had meant for his voice to travel through the trees after Fenrir, but he could barely hear himself. He started to shake, and he brought a trembling hand to his cheek and touched the bruise gingerly. His throat felt tight, and his eyes were watering, and what just happened? As though in a trance, Harry stood up and finished tying his shoes, then began to walk back towards the cottage. Maybe Fenrir went back as well? Harry quickened his pace, panic rising in his chest – his rational mind was telling him to feel angry, to alert Remus immediately about what had happened – but the larger part of him was terrified that he had just chased Fenrir away, that he had gone back to his cave, maybe alerted others to their presence – and what would Harry do when the moon came out? She would be so angry with him….and the hidden part of his mind, which Harry refused to acknowledge at the moment, was terrified as well, terrified that Fenrir had left him, that he would no longer want him. Harry broke into a run, and didn’t stop until he reached the cottage.


* * *

Fenrir was within howling distance of the cave before he made himself stop running. It was insane to go back to the cave now; he reeked of Harry, and his cover would be blown. Angrily, Fenrir turned on the spot and began the trek back, his mind finally calming down enough to think.

Fenrir was angry, that was a given; he was angry with that pup for being so disrespectful to his superior; he was angry with himself for hitting him; most of all, he was angry because the boy was right – he had been interested in him under the rule of the sun, the sun that was excruciatingly not the mother moon. What was wrong with him? The moon governed the primal needs of the wolf; everyone knew that…was he that enthralled with the boy that the rules didn’t apply to him? Or was it something else that made him hard for the young one today? The boy had alluded to human nature as the cause…but that wasn’t possible…it couldn’t be.

“Fuck!” spat Fenrir, swiping at a tree. The smack hurt his hand more than the tree, and he clenched his fist, trying to numb the pain. That was the second thing he had hit that day. The first had been different; unlike the tree, Harry’s neck had snapped to the side, and his flesh had been soft. Harry had looked up at him, his green forest eyes unobstructed by glasses, which had flown off; lips that had been bitten red earlier had trembled; a pale beautiful cheek had flushed to an angry red. It was all there in his head, and it wouldn’t leave – Fenrir let out a frustrated roar, and headed in the direction of the stream; he needed to clear his head before he saw the boy again.


* * *


It was almost two in the morning, and Harry was resting his chin on the window sill, eyes scanning the impenetrable darkness for a sign of Fenrir. He had been waiting since he had returned that afternoon, and had ignored all questions of his whereabouts from Ron and Hermione. He had been smart enough to put a glamour charm on himself, and had eaten dinner mechanically, completely oblivious to the worried stares he had been attracting.

Harry was almost ready to don his invisibility cloak and brave the night before he caught sight of the moon hitting the curve of broad shoulders. Nervousness coursed through his veins, and he waited until Fenrir disappeared beneath the cottage before he silently leaped off the bed, grabbed his wand, and snuck out through the door. He tip-toed across the grass and knelt down beside the crawlspace beneath the cottage. He could make out Fenrir’s glowing eyes, which were locked on him appraisingly. Harry bit his lip, then began the apology that he had been composing in his head for the last hour.

“I – I’m sorry…you’re not stupid,” said Harry, breathing heavily. “I don’t know what I was saying, I –”

“Shut up,” growled Fenrir. Harry did, and sat on his heels, biting his lip and tugging on the hem of his shirt. Fenrir stared at him for a few more seconds, then beckoned Harry toward him.

Hesitantly, Harry crawled under the house. Once he was close enough, Fenrir reached out and pulled Harry to him, positioning Harry so that he was on his back, and Fenrir leaned over him, yellow eyes scanning Harry’s pale face.

“Let me see it,” he rumbled.

Harry pulled his wand from his jeans and took down the glamour charm. Fenrir let out a hiss, and cupped Harry’s chin gently, ignoring the sudden stillness of the boy beneath him. He ran a rough thumb over the purple bruise, careful of his clawed fingers before bending over and bestowing a lick to the mark. A breathy sigh emitted from the boy’s mouth, and Fenrir continued to lick the wound he had inflicted, stopping every now and then to nuzzle at the tender flesh covering a too-sharp cheekbone, a cheekbone that was sharp because the boy wasn’t eating enough, and Fenrir hazily decided that he would make sure his puppy ate, before continuing his licks. Soon they were both drifting in and out of consciousness, both rather worn out.

“You should go inside and sleep,” said Fenrir almost a half an hour later, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

“Can’t I stay out here?” asked Harry, tucking himself against Fenrir’s chest and yawning.

“You’ll get cold – the house protects you, remember,” said Fenrir, smiling a sarcastic smile.

“I’ll be alright,” said Harry, waking up. A panicked chill ran up his spine, and he curled in close.

“I’m not going anywhere, pup,” Fenrir rumbled.

“Where’d you go today?” asked Harry quietly.

Fenrir sighed. “I was halfway back to the cave before I realized I needed to be here.”

Harry bit his lip. “Are you going back to the cave for the full moon?”

There was a pause before Fenrir asked, “Do you want me too?”

Harry was too preoccupied to register the fact that Fenrir had basically just asked for his permission. “No,” he said quietly.

Fenrir tightened his arms around Harry. “Tell me…what does the wolfsbane potion do?”

Harry turned his head slightly, trying to see Fenrir’s face – he could have sworn he heard some fear. “You’ll keep your mind as it is now… you’ll still change, but you won’t, er…you know…. want to kill anyone.”

“Who says I don’t want to kill anyone?” asked Fenrir. Harry shrugged, hoping that was a joke.

Fenrir sighed and nuzzled Harry’s hair. There really wasn’t any other option. “Alright. I’ll do it.”

Harry looked up. “Are you sure?”

Fenrir smiled dryly in the darkness; the boy was trying to sound considerate, but it was obvious that he was pleased. “I’ll tell Snape tomorrow, pup,” he rasped. “Now go back inside.”

Harry lay still in Fenrir’s arms. It was then that he realized he really liked the feeling of Fenrir’s strong arms around him, liked his deep gravely voice in his ear...and maybe it didn’t have anything to do with the moon, because he had been missing him all day long.

“Do I – do I have to?” he whispered.

“You don’t belong out here, Harry,” said Fenrir, moving one of his arms. “Go inside.”

Harry remained still a little longer, then began to slowly untangle himself, the cold seeping in every second. Quietly, he said goodnight, then scrambled out from beneath the cottage. He ran to the door, opened and swiftly shut it before climbing into his bed and pulling the sheets up around him. The overwhelming feeling that he should be outside was too much, and Harry pulled the curtain over the window, but the feeling didn’t leave. There was a painful sensation in his gut, and he choked on a sob before covering his hand with his mouth. He wished desperately for a Time-Turner so that he could erase that stupid conversation from the afternoon – he was an idiot, obsessing over trivial things that didn’t matter – who cared if Fenrir shouldn’t want him during the day! The fact remained that he had…but now he probably wouldn’t, and it was all his fault. Yesterday, Fenrir never would have pushed him away at night, but now he had because he didn’t think Harry could handle not being in a house – it was all so stupid, and Harry angrily wiped away the tears that were streaming down his face. He cursed the moon for making him so emotional, but he knew somehow that he couldn’t blame her for the sudden wish that Fenrir was just a normal man; a man that Harry had met in a shop or pub, and had gone to his flat with him to talk and laugh and kiss, and Harry sobbed again because he had never imagined kissing Fenrir, and now it was all he could think about, and it would never happen because Fenrir didn’t like anything human…. Harry sank down to his pillow and hugged it tightly, his mind racing with the unthinkable, his pillow soaking up tears.  



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