Sweet Puppy

Chapter 12

For a second, no one moved. Harry stared, open mouthed at Malfoy. He could feel his face becoming hot and knew he must be bright red. Malfoy stared back, mirroring Harry’s expression, although he was quite pale. His eyes kept swerving from Fenrir to Harry, and he looked rather choked.

Harry was just wishing that the floor would swallow him whole when Fenrir broke the silence with a growl.

“What are you looking at, boy?” he barked, surging to his feet and shoving Harry behind him.

Malfoy made a strange gurgling noise as he stumbled backwards. Harry reasoned that the sight of Fenrir completely naked and covered in scratches would probably rob anyone of speech. It surely didn’t help the situation that Fenrir was still incredibly hard. Malfoy could get hurt with that thing, thought Harry absently.

“Why don’t you run back to your mummy, you inbred whelp!” roared Fenrir, spit flying.

Malfoy cried out in fear before turning and fleeing down the hallway. Harry couldn’t help but grin.

“You know… I think I like having you here,” said Harry to Fenrir’s back, a cheeky smirk on his face.

Fenrir whirled around, his chest still heaving in anger. Harry quickly stopped smiling.

“What?”

Fenrir bent forward, grasping Harry by his biceps and backing him up until he fell back onto his bed. He turned and wrenched the privacy curtain around them, then glared down at an alarmed Harry.

“No one looks at you,” he hissed, his eyes wild. “No one sees what’s mine…”

Harry’s mouth dropped open in shock. He watched in amazement as Fenrir raked shaky hands through his damp hair then down over his eyes, muttering all the while.

“He saw you – he was looking at you – he must be punished… saw you….”

Harry swallowed and tried to ignore the fact that he was eye-level with Fenrir’s cock, which had started to soften slightly.

“I’m sure he was looking at you more than me,” mumbled Harry. “You were the one who was completely starkers…”

Fenrir made an ugly barking sound. “Who gives a fuck if he sees me – he saw you! He was getting an eyeful, he was!”

Harry wondered what he must have looked like to Malfoy; panting, his jeans open, face flushed, standing between Fenrir’s legs… Fenrir naked! Oh, God….

“Yes,” hissed Fenrir, his nostrils flaring. “Now you see….”

“Oh, shit,” Harry moaned, burying his face in his hands. The embarrassment had begun to set in. Fenrir made a gruff, triumphant noise and sat down heavily next to him – the bed creaked ominously. Harry stiffened, dropping his hands to his lap and sitting up straight, his embarrassment pushed aside by a new emotion; Fenrir was sitting on his bed – where he slept at night, and dreamt of Sirius sometimes – it was a personal space. Fenrir was just sitting on it, naked, like he owned it. This annoyed Harry, but Fenrir didn’t seem to notice; this annoyed Harry as well.

“I can’t really do anything to him, can I?” Fenrir was musing aloud. “They’ll be all over me.”

“Probably,” said Harry. He fidgeted for a second, then began haltingly, “You’re sitting on my bed.”

Fenrir looked around as though he was just noticing.

“Just – you know… don’t get it wet.”

Fenrir grinned, showing his teeth, then stretched luxuriously. He threw a smirk at Harry before stretching out behind him on the bed. “And what are you going to do about it if I do? Hmm?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Just thought, you know – you don’t like human things – you’re in a bed, my bed – I just thought you wouldn’t want to be.”

“I was in it earlier,” said Fenrir, letting his head drop to the pillow. He pressed his nose into it and inhaled deeply – Harry tried to ignore this.

“You were hurt before.”

“I’m still hurt,” said Fenrir, his eyes gleaming.

“Well you’re not acting like it,” said Harry, crossing his arms and facing away from him. He didn’t notice Fenrir grinning behind him, but he heard him sit up, and he felt hot breath against his ear and neck.

“Lie down with me.”

Harry rolled his eyes again, but the effect was lost with Fenrir behind him. “And have Malfoy walk in? No thanks.”

Fenrir nuzzled the back of his neck and played with the hem of Harry’s shirt. “He won’t be coming back anytime soon.” His voice had gone low and gravelly. “And I didn’t shoot yet,” he added.

Harry’s head whipped around to look at Fenrir, who appeared rather hungry. His eyes were shining. Harry gulped.

“You took care of me so well before,” said Fenrir with a smirk. “Lie down with me.”

Harry knew from Fenrir’s tone that he wasn’t going to get out of this one. Slowly, he toed off his shoes then swung his legs onto the bed, stretching out alongside Fenrir, whose hand immediately found its way up his shirt. Harry let out an exasperated sigh and stared at the ceiling, his hands by his sides.

“I suppose I’ll have to stay in here for a night or two… I need to recover,” rumbled Fenrir, nosing Harry’s neck and running his fingers across his abdomen.

“Oh,” said Harry. “And that’s alright with you, is it?”

“Don’t have much choice, do I? I’d be at the cave, in my den, some pup licking my wounds if this hadn’t happened….”

Harry shifted uncomfortably. He hoped Fenrir didn’t expect him to lick anything… although the idea of someone else licking Fenrir didn’t sit too well either….  Fenrir chuckled against his neck as though he could hear Harry’s thoughts, his hand wandering further up Harry’s stomach.

“So… you’re sleeping…?”

“Here, yes.”

Harry didn’t know what to say. He was feeling a lot of different emotions at the moment, and he could pinpoint none of them. He would be sharing a bed with Fenrir… like a normal couple – and that was too odd to even dwell on. Fenrir was hurt, and didn’t want to go back to the cave, which was good, but did that mean something was wrong? Shouldn’t he go to his pack to reassure them that everything was alright? And Malfoy! What if he walked in on them? What if Remus walked in on them? Harry quickly shied away from that thought, wondering why he even cared – Remus would understand, wouldn’t he? After all, it was normal for mates to want to be around each other….

“Okay,” said Harry finally. Fenrir chuckled again, then slid his hand all the way up to Harry’s chest, brushing a nipple with his roughened thumb. Harry gasped and tried to resist arching into the touch – he felt ashamed now that Malfoy had seen them, as though the entire household was watching, even though the privacy curtain was pulled securely around his bed.

“I told you not to worry about them,” Fenrir growled, pulling himself up and moving so that he covered half of Harry’s body.

“How did you know that I was – oh – thinking about that?” asked Harry breathlessly; Fenrir had pushed his shirt up to his neck and was lapping at his nipple.

“It’s – all over – your face,” answered Fenrir, nipping and sucking. “You know I like hearing you.”

“I’m not about to shout the house down if that’s what you want,” said Harry indignantly, lifting his head to glare at Fenrir. The werewolf’s eyes met Harry’s, clearly amused at Harry’s comment. This only incensed Harry further, and he dropped his head back onto his pillow with a huff, determinedly ignoring the fact that he was becoming aroused. He couldn’t help but make a noise of protest when he felt Fenrir’s hand land on his erection, and he said sharply, “I thought you were the one who needed to get off.”

“And you thought you’d just lie there, is that it?” said Fenrir with a barking laugh. “No, no, no, puppy, we’re doing this right.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “But – we are not having sex in here, Fenrir!”

Fenrir guffawed and Harry stared. “Of course not, I’d bleed all over the place,” said Fenrir, as though bleeding all over the place was an extremely casual thing to do – Harry shuddered. “I thought we’d just rut.”

Harry blinked. “Rut,” he repeated blankly. “Right.”

“Right,” said Fenrir, his attentions once again focused on Harry’s zipper. “So, take these off, spread your legs, and let’s go.”

Harry glanced at the curtain. Making a quick decision, he grabbed his wand from the bedside table and waved it at his curtain, casting a Sealing charm. He decided not to cast a Silencing charm, just in case someone did come in and think something was wrong.

“Just… don’t make too much noise,” said Harry, hoping that Fenrir would head his advice.

“Oh, I’m not the one who makes noise between us,” said Fenrir, leering as he pulled down Harry’s zipper.

Harry flushed, but retorted, “I’m not the one who howls at the moon, am I?” Fenrir grinned at him and wrenched Harry’s jeans down his legs and tossed them to the floor, then got onto his hands and knees and gingerly crawled over Harry’s body. Harry couldn’t help but stare at the werewolf’s cock, which was hanging down between them.

A sharp grunt brought him out of his trance and he looked up to see Fenrir’s face briefly contort in pain; Harry instinctively brought a hand up to Fenrir’s arm. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly, not wanting to make Fenrir self-conscious.

“Fine,” muttered Fenrir. Finally satisfied with his position over Harry, he lowered himself down, and Harry quickly parted his legs and brought his knees up, cradling Fenrir’s body against his own.

“I should get hurt more often,” Fenrir rumbled above him. “You’re much more willing.”

“That’s not funny,” said Harry seriously.

“Who’s being funny?” asked Fenrir, but he smiled. Harry felt something flutter in his stomach, and he gave a small smile back. He watched with fascination as Fenrir’s expression softened in pleasure above him – they’d never faced each other while doing something like this… Harry liked seeing Fenrir’s face. The thought caused an odd sensation in his stomach, and he turned his head slightly so as not to stare. Instead, he focused on moving his hips with Fenrir’s and keeping himself quiet as he felt Fenrir’s cock slide against his own. Harry desperately hoped no one walked into the kitchen. Even though they weren’t being particularly loud, there would be no mistaking the meaning of a creaking bed, soft gasps, and contained growls.

*          *          *

A tentative knock broke Remus out of his fitful rest. Groaning, he sat up in his bed and glanced at the clock on his work desk. About four hours had gone by since he had left Harry and Fenrir alone in the kitchen. Another knock followed by a cautious, “Remus?” followed the first.

“Yes, yes,” said Remus distractedly, waving his wand at the door. It opened to reveal Harry, looking rather guilty and concerned at the same time. Remus tried to ignore the fact that Harry smelled of Fenrir’s semen.

“Er, Tonks wanted me to tell you that you should eat supper with us – and I’m to get you to the table no matter what you say.” Harry smiled slightly as he finished.

Remus smiled grimly. “I don’t feel so much like eating just now.”

Harry’s smile broadened, and he stepped into the room and shut the door. “She said you’d have some excuse.” His smile faltered slightly as he took in Remus’ gaunt face. “Are you….”

“No doubt you’ve noticed I get rather ill around the Full moon, Harry,” said Remus with forced casualness, grasping the bedside table as he pulled himself to his feet. Harry hurried forward to steady him, but Remus waved him off. “No need, Harry, I’ve been doing this since I was a boy.”

Harry stepped back, confusion overcoming his features. “But – Fenrir’s not like this. I mean, he’s wounded, but he’s not –”

“Sick?” asked Remus, smiling wryly, stepping to his wash basin and splashing his face with water. “No, I shouldn’t think so. Not Fenrir Greyback.” Remus dried his face with a towel, then turned to Harry.

“Do I look presentable for supper?” he asked with a kind smile. Harry looked dubious at his sudden cheeriness, but he nodded. As Remus sat down on his bed to don his shoes, Harry spoke up again.

“Er – Fenrir wants to sleep here tonight.”

Remus looked up from buckling his shoes, his mouth slightly ajar. “Why?” he asked, after coming up with nothing else to say.

Harry shrugged, but said, “He wants to recover in here – he said his pack could track him if he went outside….”

Remus’ eyebrows furrowed in thought, and he bent down once more over his shoes. Why should Fenrir be so concerned about being tracked? Yes, he’d killed a pack member – but he had done far worse before, hadn’t he? Remus was brought out of his musings when Harry spoke again.

“He wants to sleep with me – in my bed, I mean.”

Remus looked up, trying to read Harry’s expression. The boy – no, young man now – looked conflicted at best, his eyes searching desperately for approval of something that he couldn’t control. Remus could recognize the signs. He needed to talk to Harry, and sooner rather than later.

“Harry. Sit down, please,” said Remus with a light but firm tone. Harry hesitated for a second, then walked forward and sat beside Remus on the bed.

“Harry,” said Remus again, hoping that he could phrase his thoughts properly. “You and Fenrir have been getting on – well – much better than any of us thought.” Harry shifted uncomfortably at these words. “I can’t say I’m necessarily happy, of course… but the situation is certainly better than it could have been.” Remus turned to look at Harry, who was staring at his knees. Remus placed a hand on his shoulder, and Harry turned to face him.

“You and he have become… quite close, physically.” Harry turned a dull red and turned away again. “There’s nothing wrong with that, Harry, it’s completely natural,” said Remus quickly. “But I’m concerned – you are young, Harry – I know you don’t like hearing that, but you are,” said Remus, feeling Harry’s shoulder stiffen underneath his fingers. “And the young tend to get swept up with emotion; it wasn’t long ago that I was your age, believe it or not,” said Remus with a humorous smile. His expression turned serious once more as he said, “I just don’t want you getting confused, that’s all. What you have with Fenrir… it’s not love, Harry –”

“I know that,” said Harry suddenly, turning sharply and looking aghast. “Of course I know that – you don’t think I…. Remus, I couldn’t! After what he did to Bill? To you? How could I…?” he trailed off, shaking his head.

Remus smiled again. “Thank you for your loyalty, but that’s not what I was referring to, Harry. I was going to remind you that mates are first and foremost sexual relationships with the goal of producing offspring – which won’t be an issue for the two of you. The purpose is purely biological; it’s not about love. I just didn’t want you to get confused, and think that Fenrir is more than just a sexual partner.”

“I know that,” said Harry again, looking a little angry. “And even if he was supposed to be more than a sex partner, I couldn’t. Not after all that he’s done.”

Remus smiled slightly. “And what if he had never touched me, or Bill, or had never done anything wrong in his whole life? What then?”

Harry gaped, any retort that he had planned dead in his mouth open mouth. Remus smiled again. “I suppose that wasn’t fair, was it? This isn’t about what could have been. We’re stuck in the now.” Harry looked at the floor, a frown on his face. Remus put his hands on his knees and pushed himself up.

“I suppose we’d better get to the table before Nymphadora – Tonks, rather – sends in the artillery.”

Harry nodded and stood up, not meeting Remus’ eyes. Remus looked him over, his smile fading; it seemed that instead of putting an end to Harry’s confusions, he’d only worsened them.

*          *          *

Supper was a rather strained affair, to say the least.

The table had magically grown to accommodate the larger crowd. Seating arrangements were quite difficult, as Harry and Ron had no interest in being seated next to, across from, or in any way near Malfoy, who felt the same twice over. The adults didn’t seem to want Fenrir near Malfoy either, and Harry didn’t want Fenrir to be next to him because he’d surely touch him in some way, and that simply would not do. In the end, Fenrir was seated in between Charlie and Snape (in case he decided to attack anyone), Malfoy was seated in between Remus and Tonks (in case he tried to escape) and Harry and Ron were seated furthest from Malfoy (in case they decided to fight).

Fenrir found the whole thing to be unnecessary, mumbling about humans and their silly rituals. He glowered at his fork, pulled at his robe collar, kicked quite a few of them under the table (by accident, of course), and generally made everyone around him uncomfortable with his loud and detailed descriptions of his wounds. When he wasn’t talking, Remus was trying to force a cheery atmosphere upon them with little success.

Small talk was out of the question. The problem was that so much of what they wanted to talk about was a forbidden topic to at least one member of the current party. They couldn’t talk about Horcruxes, they couldn’t talk about Malfoy, and they certainly couldn’t talk about Fenrir’s pack. The one thing they could do was inform Malfoy about Fenrir and Harry’s newfound connection:

“It was a surprise to all of us, I’m sure you can imagine,” said Remus, buttering a roll.

“Surely that is the understatement of the century,” drawled Snape, sipping from a goblet, his eyes distant and cold. Harry didn’t bother hiding his glare. Fenrir drew himself up and stared around at them all, as if expecting congratulations for such an accomplishment as Scenting the Chosen One. Malfoy looked revolted. That was the end of the already limited conversation as everybody was suddenly intent on their food.

When everyone was done, the dinner plates flew into the sink as though they were fleeing from a possible explosion. Malfoy didn’t say anything to anyone as he stood and walked quickly out of the room, deliberately ignoring Fenrir’s mocking growls. Harry exchanged a few words with Ron and Hermione and they headed for the hallway while Remus drew Snape, Tonks, Bill, and Charlie into a discussion at the table, steaming mugs of tea in their hands. Fenrir wasn’t asked to leave the table, but he got up anyway and stalked through the door after the teenagers. Ron and Hermione seemed to freeze simultaneously as Fenrir loomed behind Harry.

“What are you all whispering about?” asked Fenrir, genuinely curious. He didn’t appear to notice their sudden hush.

“Oh, er,” said Harry unintelligently.

“Malfoy,” said Hermione honestly, not wanting to be rude. “We were wondering what happened to him.”

“We haven’t had much chance to talk, you see,” said Harry a bit peevishly.

“It’s sort of what we do,” said Ron.

There was an awkward silence as Fenrir looked down at them while they shuffled their feet and exchanged significant looks. Fenrir seemed to get the message and huffed, “Well don’t let me keep you.” He began to turn around and head back to the kitchen when Hermione called, “Wait!”

Fenrir turned to see Harry and Ron staring at her as though she’d gone mad, while she gazed up at him imploringly.

“Maybe you can help us,” she said, her eyes shining with inspiration. “Malfoy said you were a friend of his family – remember?” She turned to Ron and Harry. “In Borgin and Burke’s last summer?”

“Oh yeah,” said Ron, his mouth opening as he gazed at Fenrir with new consideration. Harry just looked annoyed.

Fenrir laughed his raspy laugh. “He said that, did he?”

“So it’s not true?” asked Hermione shrewdly.

Fenrir turned to face them, looking pleased with the attention. “I won’t say I don’t know Lucius Malfoy, but I wouldn’t call him a friend. The man hates werewolves.”

“Malfoy has always been scared of werewolves,” mused Harry, speaking up for the first time. “In first year, when we had that detention in the forest – he was terrified that we’d run into a werewolf….”

“It’s not that strange,” said Ron. “’Specially with Malfoy being a Slytherin Pureblood and all; prejudiced, the lot of them. Remember the whole Hagrid mess?”

“Yeah,” said Harry, looking angry again. “Think about the way Snape treats Remus.”

“So why’d Malfoy say he was friends with him?” asked Ron suspiciously.

“He was using the name as a scare tactic, I expect,” said Hermione. “It wasn’t exactly a lie – his father did know Greyback – I mean, you,” she finished quickly, remembering that Fenrir was still there. Fenrir grinned.

“So you can’t really help us then,” said Harry, not looking too upset.

“What did you think I’d know?” asked Fenrir, turning to Hermione.

“Oh, well, maybe you’d know of where his mother might have gone – or if You-Know-Who was after them…,” she finished off, looking flustered.

There was an awkward silence. Harry’s expression was completely rigid.

“I haven’t spoken to any Death Eaters since the night after the attack,” said Fenrir, his voice laced with unspoken tension. “I escaped into the woods. A Death Eater contacted me a day later, told me my orders were to remain here – at my post.”

Harry looked up. “Your post?”

Fenrir turned to him, frowning. “Yes. My pack is here.”

“But surely You-Know-Who has tried to contact you?” asked Hermione, looking rather shocked at her own daring.

Fenrir looked back at her, his own brow furrowed and his jaw tight. “No,” he said finally. “If he wants to talk with me, he sends a Death Eater.” He smirked then.

“Maybe you should be asking Snape about Malfoy.”

“He would never tell us anything,” Harry snapped.

Fenrir made a grunting noise in his throat, apparently thinking. Then he grinned down at them, a conspiring look in his eye. “Want me to listen in on them?”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione quickly exchanged looks, eyebrows raised. It was a wonder to Fenrir how they seemed to communicate with no words. The Weasley boy shrugged at the two; Harry bit his lip and gave a curt nod; Hermione looked up at Fenrir, and said, “Alright.”

Fenrir gave them his now familiar toothy grin, then turned and walked back to the door, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked forward and sat down around him, and for the next half hour, Fenrir muttered the overheard conversation back to the trio, a smirk on his face as they watched him eagerly.

“So we didn’t really learn anything new,” Harry mumbled, pulling on his pajama top a few hours later. Fenrir, naked once again, shook his head as Harry proceeded to do up the buttons.

“I didn’t know about the Unbreakable Vow. That’s pretty dangerous stuff, that is. Can’t imagine how the – Voldemort didn’t find out about it.” Fenrir turned his head to examine a scratch on his arm, itching it lightly. His almost referring to Voldemort as ‘the Dark Lord’ didn’t go unnoticed by Harry, but he chose to ignore it.

“There’s something that’s been bugging me,” began Harry slowly, wanting to change the subject. Fenrir abandoned his scratch and gazed up at him.

“How come Remus is so sick and you seem fine?”

Fenrir blinked.

“Er, what I mean is, is there anything we can do?”

Fenrir smiled, although it wasn’t his usual manic grin – his eyes were soft. “I don’t think so, puppy. It’s his problem.”

“What do you mean?” asked Harry, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Fenrir scooted back against the wall so that Harry had more room and pulled him closer. The moon was shining through the window, and Harry didn’t notice that his earlier annoyance with Fenrir seemed to drain out of him. He even allowed Fenrir to wrap his arms around him and sniff his hair. After a few deep sniffs, Fenrir spoke again, his voice low.

“Don’t be upset,” he said into Harry’s ear. “I don’t think he will ever be completely well.”

Harry leaned into Fenrir, worry creasing his brow. “Why not?”

“Because deep down, he’s not happy. He doesn’t accept the Moon. He doesn’t accept himself. He can’t. He wants to be human, but he never will be.”

“You made him that way,” Harry whispered, feeling quite lost without his former angry passion. He wanted to curse the moon for being so bright, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Yes,” said Fenrir. He didn’t apologize. He didn’t sound regretful. And he never would, Harry realized. 

“Does Remus know that’s why he gets sick?”

“He must,” said Fenrir, a bit of humor coming back into his voice. “He was a smarty professor, wasn’t he?”

“And you don’t get sick because –”

“Because this is what I am. I’ll never be ashamed.”

Harry snorted. “Obviously,” he muttered against Fenrir’s chest. Fenrir growled and nipped at his ear.  Harry couldn’t help but chuckle, and he wriggled away and stretched out, pulling the sheets over his legs. Fenrir didn’t get under the sheets, but he wrapped himself around Harry and muttered, “I’m letting you off easy tonight, puppy. You won’t be wearing that shirt tomorrow night.”

Harry turned so that his back was to Fenrir, who pulled him even closer against his body. The werewolf’s breath was warm against the back of his neck, and his arms were strong and solid around his waist. It wasn’t long before Harry drifted off to sleep, the approving moon shining down upon him, Fenrir’s nose against his hair.   

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