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hp_rarefestTitle: We’re Going to Hell (Just Because We’re Werewolves)
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
freakingcrups
Prompt: Harry gets bitten by a rogue werewolf. He reluctantly turns to Fenrir for guidance.
Pairing(s): Greyback/Harry
Word Count/Art Medium: 8,830
Rating: R
Warning(s): There is some graphically violent described scenes. And Greyback is a little OOC. He’s not as mean as he is in the books. Also, it's not really a happy ending, but it's not sad either.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Firstly, I admit in shame that I rushed the ending so I could have it finished. Second, thank you to my wonderful beta. And lastly, the title comes from the song ‘Werewolves’ by Short Stack.
Summary: When Harry is bitten by an unregistered werewolf, Greyback is the only person he can turn to. But at what cost?
It came of nowhere and before Harry could reach for his wand, he finds himself on the ground, sets of teeth clenching around the tender skin of his neck and shoulder. He screams in pain and when his grappling hands manage to find his wand in his robes, he can already feel the blood drip down his abused flesh and soak into his dark red Auror uniform. His hands shake as he screams a spell and the wolf is flung off him.
His hand automatically rises to his neck, his whole body shaking in shock as he feels the deep gash. His skin is ripped, jagged edges sticking in different directions and blood oozes from his wound like water from a waterfall. When he glances up, the wolf is gone, but he knows who it is. It’s Ridge — he would not forget those dark eyes, full of hunger and insanity and it tears him up inside to know that the bastard has got one up on him.
And now he’s here, alone, bleeding to his death. His chest rattles with every breath he takes and he feels cold. He wonders if his life will flash before his eyes like they do in those Muggle movies, but nothing happens. He can feel his heartbeat, strong but slow, and he feels his consciousness begin to slip away from him. Whatever thoughts he has in his head disappears and he willingly lets the darkness take him.
*
When he wakes, he is in the same spot as he was before. His partner hasn’t found him, he realises. Either that or he was never looking for him to begin with. Harry doesn’t like the idiot that much, he’s useless. Every noise makes him jump and he constantly mutters about Grims and not wanting to die. Harry wonders how he even passed his Auror exams.
When full consciousness comes back to him, Harry sits up. His body hurts, but mostly his neck and shoulder. He reaches up to touch it and tries to turn his head and gape at his injured shoulder. It’s not injured anymore; it barely looks like it’s been scratched. The only sign that there was ever a wound there is his ripped and blood-stained robes. It’s not right and he doesn’t understand it.
He looks around, but there’s nothing for him to see. It’s quiet in the forest. The trees whisper with the wind and the birds chirp. It’s the evening, Harry notes, and checks his watch. It’s seven-thirty and that confuses him. He was on Ridge’s tail around nine, not seven. He must have been here for a whole day.
Harry frowns as he stands and groans. His body protests and he reaches for something to steady himself as the world spins around him. He finds a tree trunk and leans against it, taking deep breaths. He feels like death warmed over.
When he finally walks, it takes him two hours to find a small township. He’s in a wretched state and so can’t Apparate and it’s a killer to walk such a long distance, but he does it. When he reaches it, he’s greeted by an old lady who was out shopping. She has worried lines on her face as she clutches at him and leads him to her house. He loses consciousness again and when he wakes, it’s two days later and he’s feeling better.
Her name is Elizabeth and he thanks her. She waves it off and tells him that she owled the Auror department and a red head came to check on him. Harry knows immediately it’s Ron. She says that he’ll be back as soon as Harry wakes.
And he does come back now that Harry is awake and greets him with a hug. Harry winces but doesn’t pull away. He’s just happy that he can see Ron again. He thought he was going to die.
“What happened, mate?” Ron looks at him with worry.
Harry just shrugs and says, “Ridge.” He doesn’t know how else to explain it. If hearing voices that ‘weren’t there’ made him insane in their second year at Hogwarts, he can’t imagine how Ron will react to a wound that maybe wasn’t even there to begin with.
Ron seems to understand and with a last thank you to Elizabeth, they both floo back to the Ministry. Harry is still sore, but he accepts the hugs and kind words as though he was healthy. Hermione holds on for the longest, tears dampening his robes. She’s also the first one to notice his tattered uniform in his hands and asks in horror what happened.
“Whose blood is that?” Hermione gasps, reaching for the uniform and tugging at it to look at the bloodied and ripped shoulder of the clothing.
Harry stiffens. “I don’t know,” he lies.
Hermione frowns at him and crosses her arms and Harry knows he needs to come up with an excuse, and quickly.
“I lost consciousness.” It’s the truth and he hopes it quells her need for answers.
It does. She looks stricken as she pulls him into another hug. “Harry, you should go see a Healer at St Mungos.”
“There’s not a scratch on me, Hermione.” Another truth. Not even the little scratches, the ones he got from running past broken branches, was left on his skin. It’s flawless, merely darkened with dirt and grime from the forest.
Hermione looks unsure, but when Ron rubs comforting circles on her back, she relents.
*
He’s not fine though. He’s done his reading and he knows what Ridge is, and he knows he should have realised earlier. Of course he was a werewolf, there was no other explanation for it. The bastard was unregistered, which was why Harry was not ready for him. And it was just his luck, to be chasing the criminal on the night of the full moon.
Idiot, Harry mutters to himself.
And that’s why he’s here, standing at the entrance of Azkaban, unsure if he is doing the right thing. But he can’t back out now.
He enters and immediately winces. There’s screaming and muttering from the insane, and when they see him, they yell bloody murder. Harry doesn’t look at them, he’s learnt not to give them that satisfaction, but it’s hard. He hates this place and usually avoids it.
When the guards stop in front of Greyback’s cell, Harry takes a deep breath and steps up to the bars, his eyes searching for the man. He finds him at the toilet, whistling a Wicked Sister’s tune as he rocks his hips and pisses. Harry glares at his back. Greyback knows they’re there and he’s just putting on a show, Harry sees this and it angers him. He knows the other man can smell him. He knows this because his own nose can smell things that he could never before — he can smell a person’s natural smell, beneath their heavily added perfume or cologne, and he can smell a cake being baked three streets over from his apartment. He can’t control it and it’s driving him crazy.
“Greyback,” Harry finally hisses.
The other man shakes his leg, much like a dog, and Harry hears him do up the zip of his trousers before he’s flushing the toilet and turning around.
“Ah Potter.” The man grins, feigning surprise as he wipes his hands on the thigh of his trousers. His voice is as rough and raspy as Harry remembers. “What do I owe for the pleasure of your company?”
Harry hesitates and glances at the guards. “Leave us.”
One of the guards opens his mouth to protest, but the other hits him in the arm and gestures down the pathway. They both leave.
“You sure that was a smart idea, little wolf?”
Harry stares at him sharply and Greyback grins, his teeth glinting in the barely lit cell.
“You know then?”
“How could I not?” The sound of Greyback’s heavy footsteps rebound off the brick walls as he moves closer to Harry. “I can smell it on you. You smell so fucking good.”
Harry jumps back when Greyback’s hands curl around the bars. The werewolf is staring at him in blatant hunger and it makes him uncomfortable. He shifts slightly. It’s not fear that drives him to silence, but the knowledge that something stirs in excitement inside of him.
“It’s okay,” Greyback coos, a smirk sliding onto his face. “You’re meant to feel like that.”
Harry ignores the words in favour of closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. When he opens them again, Greyback is still staring at him knowingly and it drives him insane. Harry clenches his fists and takes two steps forward until his face in hovering in front of Greyback’s.
“I need your help,” he says quietly.
Greyback raises an eyebrow. “Are you here to strike a bargain with me?”
“Yes,” Harry mutters reluctantly. He hates being here, but Greyback is his only choice. He can’t tell Ron and Hermione, he doesn’t need their pity or their help.
“What’s the deal?” Greyback’s hand uncurls from the bar and reaches for Harry.
Harry doesn’t back down when the long fingernails scrape against his cheek. He’s not going to show the fear he feels creep up his spine. But as soon as he touches him, the fear transforms into excitement again and before he can contemplate it, Greyback pulls away.
“I get you out of here, under my supervision. You teach me about being a werewolf.”
Greyback appears to be considering it, before he finally nods with a smirk. “Deal.”
Harry doesn’t wait around long after that before he leaves. He has nothing else to say to the werewolf and his confusion plagues him. He wonders if it’s part of being a werewolf, but he doesn’t remember Remus telling him anything of the like. And it scares him that he can feel that way around the other man.
*
Ron asks if he’s insane and he ignores him. Sometimes he asks himself that as well. He has to be, right? Why else would he be attempting to get Greyback out of Azkaban? The Wizengamot is shocked at his plight and they don’t pretend not to question his motives. He gives them half truths.
“Ridge is an unregistered werewolf.” He pauses for them to gasp in shock. “And I believe Greyback would be useful in tracking him. However, I cannot work with him while he is Azkaban. I ask that you consider his release under my twenty-four seven supervision until Ridge is found.”
Hermione stares at him from her chair amongst the other Wizengamot members. He tries to avoid looking at her, but he can’t. He knows that look well and feels ashamed. It’s not that she doesn’t trust him, but more that she doesn’t understand why he’s doing it.
Kingsley leans forward on his chair, his dark eyes analysing Harry carefully. Harry doesn’t move, he barely breathes as his friend stares at him. He hopes that he doesn’t look guilty.
“Do you know what you’re doing, Harry?” Kingsley finally asks, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
No, he wants to say, but instead Harry swallows and then nods. “Yes.”
Kingsley nods as well. “All in favour?”
It’s a close call, but he ends up being approved.
When he goes to fetch Greyback, the werewolf is smirking in pleasure. The guards beside him are nervous and they shift their weight from one foot to the other. Harry has no doubt that they’ve heard what Greyback has done to people and he doesn’t blame them for their fear.
“If you try to escape—”
“You’ll hunt me down like the wolf that I am?” Greyback chuckles deeply.
“Yes.” Harry nods at the guards and they step away, returning to their former duties. Greyback isn’t restrained by anything, but Harry has his wand at the ready. The werewolf notices this and it only makes his grin wider.
“I’m not going to hurt you, little wolf,” Greyback purrs, taking a step forward so his chest is nearly flushed against Harry’s. He takes a deep sniff and sighs in pleasure. “You really do smell good.”
Harry takes a step back and glances around to make sure no one has seen them. When he’s sure he hasn’t seen anyone watching, he glares at Greyback.
“All that’s going to happen here is that you’re going to teach me about being a werewolf. That’s it.”
Greyback chuckles again and he reaches out to touch Harry’s cheek. Harry slaps his hand away before he can. “And what happens when you know all that I have to teach you? What happens to me?”
Harry frowns. He hasn’t thought that far ahead. “I don’t know.”
“I would like to stay out of Azkaban.” Greyback crosses his large arms over his chest. “Wouldn’t you like to be a pack, little wolf? You’d love the taste of blood.” He grins when he says this, his eyes lighting up.
The thought nearly makes Harry sick. “There will be no killing,” he says sharply. “If you want to stay out of Azkaban, Greyback, you don’t kill anyone.”
Greyback pouts, but Harry knows it’s meant to mock him. He is trying to act like a kicked puppy and he does a good job of it. “Not even one?”
Harry glares and points his wand at Greyback. “Don’t even try it.”
Greyback takes that step forward again causing Harry’s wand to dig into his chest. He doesn’t seem to notice. “What about fucking? Am I allowed to fuck at least?”
Harry swallows down the bile in his throat. He keeps his composure when he answers. “No. You are to be under my supervision at all times.”
Greyback’s smirk is sly. “I guess it’s just you and me then, little wolf.”
“Stop calling me that,” Harry growls before grasping Greyback’s upper arm, leading him to the floo system. He has a feeling that the werewolf was going to drive him insane.
*
“This is the living room and where you’ll be sleeping,” Harry says as they enter his apartment. It’s only small, located on the edge of the magic world. Muggles live in the houses a few blocks over, so most of the time he has to be careful what magic he uses. It’s only one bedroom, so Harry has set up the couch for the werewolf.
Greyback looks at it and snorts. “You don’t expect me to fit on that, do you?”
Harry frowns and peers at the couch. It’s not big either, but he assumed it was big enough to fit Greyback on it. “Yes.”
He scoffs, a deep raspy sound at the back of his throat, and turns to Harry. “I’m not your dog, Potter.”
It’s the first time he’s called him Potter since they’ve seen each other again and it makes Harry pause. He notices that Greyback isn’t angry, but his face is twisted in mild irritation. He’s insulted, but Harry’s not quite sure why.
“I don’t have a spare room, Greyback,” Harry says as he walks further into the room and shrugs off his jacket. He lays it over the back of the couch and points towards the small hallway to the left. “My bedroom, the bathroom and the loo is down there. The bathroom and the loo are to the right.”
Harry jumps when rough hands land on his shoulders from behind, gripping tightly. He jerks away immediately and pivots on the heels of his feet until he’s facing the offender, and glares at him. Even though the touch was brief, it has his body buzzing and his senses heightening.
“Don’t touch me,” he snaps. His skin itches and he’s not sure whether it’s because his body enjoyed the touch or whether he is sickened by it. This man is a murderer and nothing Greyback does will change that, and Harry doesn’t know why all of a sudden he likes his touch.
“What has changed about you since you were bitten?” Greyback asks, seemingly unaffected by Harry’s hostile attitude. He sits on the couch and lays his arms on the length of the backrest. He looks comfortable, casual, and it annoys Harry.
“My smell,” he answers, glaring at Greyback.
Greyback nods and smiles. It’s not a mocking smile or a sadistic one, it’s natural, and it’s the first time Harry has seen it. It’s not a beautiful smile — nothing about Greyback will ever be beautiful — but it’s real and so it looks good on him.
“Smell always comes first. And then hearing. Has your hearing changed?”
Harry thinks about it, but doesn’t recall any change and so shakes his head.
“Sit, little wolf.” Greyback pats the space beside him and Harry stares at it. He’s not afraid, but proximity to Greyback is not a good idea at that moment. He sits anyway and narrows his eyes in warning. Greyback chuckles and removes his arm from the backrest so it doesn’t press against Harry’s back. “When were you bitten?”
“A week ago,” he answers with a sigh. It’s like a vague memory now and he wonders if it’s a dream. Sometimes he stands in front of the mirror naked and touches his shoulder, tracing a finger from the base of his neck and down his arm. Goosebumps would rise on his skin, but no longer was there pain or any sign that it was injured to begin with.
“Makes sense. And where did you get bitten?”
Sitting on the couch with Greyback was weird. If someone had told Harry two weeks ago that he’d be sitting in his lounge room with Greyback having a placid conversation, he’d tell them that they were insane. He might have even accompanied them to St Mungos himself to make sure they actually made it to the insanity ward. Now he wonders if maybe he should be the one to check in there.
Harry hesitates before he curls his fingers around the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head. Goosebumps rise on his skin as Greyback stares at his bare chest with open interest and he resists the urge to punch him in the face. He needs his help. Harry runs a hand over his shoulder and closes his eyes as memories hit him with enough force to leave him breathless. “Here.”
Greyback whistles. “The wolf knew what he was doing,” he says.
Harry jumps when a rough hand touches his uninjured shoulder and caresses the skin there. It shouldn’t feel good, not with the sharp nails on Greyback’s hands or with the coarseness of his palm, but it does. It soothes him and he sighs reluctantly at the wave of peace that overtakes his body.
“He wanted to make sure you turned,” Greyback murmurs as his hand travels down Harry’s arm.
“Stop,” Harry says suddenly, jerking away from the touch. His eyes snap open and he glares at Greyback. “What in the bloody hell is this, Greyback? How are you doing this?”
The werewolf sits back and raises his hands in a surrender position. He grins again, but this time it’s mocking once more and Harry feels out of the loop and he hates it.
“You’re a newly turned wolf. You had no pack, no allegiances. But you came to me asking for help, you made me your pack, little wolf. I’m your alpha and your instincts tell you to please me.” Greyback says this with amusement.
Harry thinks about punching him, just to wipe that smile of his face. Or better yet, his wand was sitting in his jacket, if he could reach for it…
Instead he frowns and persists in his questions. “Why?”
Greyback leans against the backrest and raises his hands to the back of his head where he links his fingers, appearing casual as he chuckles. He is smug, the bastard, because he knows that Harry is clueless and the only person Harry will get the answers off is him.
“It’s the way of life. Think about it hard. When you have wolves, they have a pack. And then they have their leader, their alpha. To survive, they need to stay in their pack and to do that, they need to obey their alpha, please him. Your instincts are telling you to roll on your back, expose your stomach submissively. You want me to fuck you.”
Harry stands immediately and snorts. “To hell with that,” he hisses as he reaches for his discarded shirt and slips it back on. He feels better now that he’s no longer exposed to the hunger in Greyback’s eyes. “I just want to learn how to be a werewolf, that’s it. And we have a deal.”
“We do.” Greyback cocks his head, his gaze lingering on Harry’s now covered chest and stomach. “But if you find you ever want to lie on your back and expose your stomach to me, you’re always welcomed.”
His eyes are raw with emotion and Harry avoids looking. He would never, never do that, he promises. But that doesn’t stop him from wondering if he was fooling himself…
*
The first few days pass with ease. Greyback seems more reserved than he had been and Harry was thankful. He didn’t want to see the hunger, need, and insanity in the other man’s eyes. It would have been distracting.
Greyback starts by teaching him about his heightened senses. In the day after the werewolf’s release, Harry’s hearing grew clearer until he could hear the steps of a rodent in an apartment two floors down. Greyback teaches him about it — how to control it and to hear what he wants to hear. And then they work on his nose until like his hearing, he focuses on what he wants to smell.
They are the easy parts, Greyback tells him.
“The hardest part is your first transformation,” he says, his voice thick with sleep. He has just woken and his grey hair is mangled over his forehead as he stretches.
Harry’s eyes follow the lines of his naked chest until he has to suppress a whimper. The man is considerably older than Harry, and while he is not beautiful or even handsome, his chest and stomach is hard in all the right places. No one as old as Greyback probably was could be that fit so Harry assumes it’s partly because of his werewolf DNA.
“It will hurt,” Greyback continues with a smirk. He’s seen Harry looking. “When did you lose your virginity with a male, little wolf?”
Harry frowns, but does not question how Greyback even knows he’s been with a man. He merely answers, “When I was nineteen.”
Greyback’s smirk widens. “And who with?”
Harry knows this has nothing to do with the learning and thinks about questioning it, then quickly decides not to. “Draco Malfoy.” There is a question in Greyback’s raised eyebrows and Harry answers before he even asks. “It was a one night stand. Never repeated.”
Greyback chuckles. “Well then, think about your first time. Hurt, did it?”
“Yes.” Malfoy had been considerably rougher than a usual sexual encounter, but Harry had taken it without complaint.
“Think of that pain and double it,” Greyback pauses, “then double that doubled amount of pain and you have your first transformation. It’s like being ripped apart, your insides spilling from your guts and then sewn back together without your lungs. It feels like you can’t breathe, you can’t feel. You’re numb, nothing but a shell of your former being.”
Harry thinks about it and grimaces. The imagery stains his brain with violent scenes and then it makes him think of the night he was bitten. That had been pain, far worse than the loss of his virginity, and if Greyback’s words were anything to go by, the transformation was going to be a lot worse.
“What do I have to do?” Harry walks over to the kitchen where he has just made fresh tea. He hands one of the cups to Greyback, who downs the very hot liquid in one gulp. Harry winces. He takes a sip of his own tea and burns his tongue.
“You have to survive.” Greyback’s sharp fingernails tap against the cup in his hand. “Wolves are hunted as well, little wolf, and if you want to be unregistered, you’ll always be hiding it from your friends. That’s survival tip number one.”
“What made you do it?” Harry asks after a moment of silence. He blows air on his tea, hoping to cool it down enough to sip. “Kill all those people. Turn those young children into werewolves.”
“Why not?” Greyback answers immediately like he has been expected the question.
“Because they were innocent.” Harry glares at the larger man and resists the urge to reach for his wand. “You were a monster.”
Greyback chuckles, but it’s low and sad, and Harry frowns. He sets his empty cup on the table and takes a step back from Harry, staring down at him in misery. Or at least Harry thought he saw misery before it was disappeared into nothing. Just blank eyes gazing at him like he didn’t understand. Harry realises that he wants to understand, because he sees that there’s a story there.
“Ask your know-it-all friend what the ministry did to werewolves in my childhood and then you will have your answer.”
After that, they don’t talk much. Their day of learning is over and instead Harry turns on the Muggle TV. Greyback is enraptured by the contraption and watches it all day while Harry sends a letter to Hermione asking her to visit. He receives a letter later that afternoon when he’s watching the telly as well.
The next day when Hermione visits, Harry makes sure Greyback stays in his bedroom. Greyback isn’t happy about it, but Harry sets up the bedroom TV and he stops grumbling as he watches a soap opera. He’s addicted to one in particular and Harry can’t help but watch in amusement at the noises the werewolf makes while he’s watching it. From snorts to grumbles to what Harry assumed was a noise of happiness. Greyback denied it of course, and claimed that Harry had heard things.
Harry greets Hermione with a hug. He’s missed her, but since Greyback has moved in under Harry’s supervision, he’s had no contact with his best friends. Ron doesn’t agree with it and out of protest, refuses to talk to Harry until he comes to his senses. Hermione is a little more silent on the subject, although Harry knows not knowing the real reason why is killing her. She’s smart enough to see through Harry’s lies.
Harry passes Hermione a cold drink of butterbeer as they both sit on the couch.
“Hermione, can I ask you a question?”
She smiles immediately. “Of course, Harry.”
Harry stares at her for a moment, rearranging his next words in his head until he is satisfied with what he is going to say. “How did the Ministry treat werewolves when Greyback was a child?”
Hermione appears shocked and takes a moment to respond. “I don’t know how old Greyback is…” she starts, glancing towards the hallway. They can hear the TV from where they sit. “But if I was to guess around what years he was a child…oh.” Her thumb circles around the brim of her glass as realisation dawns on her face. She shakes her head and asks, “Why do you want to know this, Harry? Did he say something to you?”
“No,” Harry answers quietly. It doesn’t matter how low he says it though, because Greyback will be able to hear what they say anyway. “I’m curious.”
Hermione isn’t stupid though and she looks him for a long moment. It doesn’t appear like she’s going to answer, but when Harry opens his mouth to say more, she finally speaks up. “You have to understand that the werewolves were misunderstood back in those days, moreso than they are now.”
Harry snorts before he can hold it in and then looks away in shame when Hermione looks miffed. Hermione is protective of the Ministry and usually Harry is too, but only when it has to do with Kingsley. He’s a good Minister of Magic and anyone who says otherwise is mostly purebloods who have been disgraced for their part in the war. But Hermione knows as much as Harry that the Ministry weren’t always filled with kind hearted people and Fudge is only an example of many.
“Werewolves were discovered in the 1600s,” Harry says, thinking back to the 1637 werewolf code of conduct he saw on a visit to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. “You can’t tell me that nearly three hundred years on, the Ministry still misunderstood werewolves.”
Hermione ‘tchs’ almost silently but Harry can hear it. He finds that his sensitive hearing is useful in these sorts of circumstances.
“Even so, the Ministry didn’t know what to do with them.” Hermione sighs and sets her butterbeer on the coffee table. She grasps Harry’s hand in her palms and squeezes it gently. “Harry, why are you doing this?”
Hermione has that look on her face again, the one that pleads with him to tell her the truth and he nearly gives in. And then he thinks about his problems and how she would react to them. He sees her shock and then she would cry, wiping away at her tears before she’d crush Harry into a hug much like Mrs Weasley would. She’d promise Harry that they’d work it out and that he shouldn’t be ashamed of what happened. She would also tell him that he has to be registered.
There were a few things he was certain of; one of them was that there was no way in hell he was going to tell her.
“Do you not trust me?”
He knows that will hit her hard and it does. She gapes at him. “Of course I do, Harry, I just worry about you.”
Harry sighs and places his glass on the coffee table before he pulls her into the hug that she so desperately wants. He loves Hermione for she was a rock in the hardest years of his life and he’d never forget that. Hermione is the sister he never had and while others called her nosy, he called her caring. But there were times, like this one, that he doesn’t want her prying into his private life.
“Please tell me?” He whispers into her ear. Before he pulls away completely, he kisses her cheek in reassurance.
Hermione still looks unsettled, but she finally smiles. “They were cruel,” she admits softly. She lays her hands in her lap and looks at them like she can’t bear to look Harry in the eye. “They locked most of the adults up for life, kept them away from wizards and witches. It was claimed that it was for magic folk’s safety. Harry, back in those days, they didn’t have the Wolfsbane Potion. They didn’t know what else to do.”
“And the children?” Harry asks sharply.
“It depended on the child. Some were locked up in specialised institutions for werewolf children. Others were chained. Werewolf children were never as strong as adults.” When she does look at him, her eyes are filled with tears.
“Chained?” Harry feels his voice break. “Like animals? They were human beings!”
“The ministry classified them as beasts, Harry, not magical beings.”
“And that gave them the right to treat the children badly? The adults who’ve done nothing wrong? How was it their fault that they were bitten by another unwillingly?” Harry stands angrily, taking a step back. He knows he’s taking it personally now and he knows Hermione will question his abrupt anger. “We condemn Greyback for killing and turning people and he deserves it, I won’t deny that, but how are we to justify those actions taken from the ministry?”
Hermione stands as well. Worry etches into her face as she reaches for Harry, but he jerks his arm back. He does not want to be touched.
“How is anything in the past justified, Harry? We make mistakes, but we learn from them. Kingsley is a good Minster of Magic and you know this. He would never do things like that. Even in the Muggle world, governments have done things in the past that cannot be justified. Hitler, for example.”
“And yet Kingsley stills asks for werewolves to be registered?” he snaps.
“Harry! You know as well as I do that it’s not just about protecting witches and wizards. It’s about protecting the werewolves as well. If they’re registered, the ministry can help them. Many can’t afford Wolfsbane Potion and the ministry helps them by providing it.”
Harry takes a deep breath and sighs. Hermione’s right. He’s taken his anger too far.
“Are you okay, Harry?”
He wants to say no, he’s not. He’s a werewolf and everything he knows is being thrown upside down. He can hear things that he shouldn’t be able to hear and smell things that shouldn’t be possible to smell. He’s going to change on the full moon and he’s not sure he’s ready for it. And above all that, he’s taken Greyback out of Azkaban to teach him about being a werewolf, but at the same time he wants nothing more than to roll over and beg the werewolf to touch him, fuck him, do anything.
“Yes,” Harry says quietly.
They don’t talk about the ministry again, instead choosing lighter topics like Ron and his obsession over Hermione’s Muggle artefacts. It keeps his mind off heavier things like the upcoming full moon that’s only a week away.
When she finally makes her leave, Harry sighs deeply. It was good catching up with her, but he wonders what Greyback has been getting up to in that time. He knows the man would have listened to every word they said and he doesn’t begrudge him for it. If he was Greyback, he would have as well.
As he approaches the room, he frowns as his ears picks up on noise. It’s groaning and panting and Harry finds himself blushing. He wanks enough to know exactly what Greyback is doing and he contemplates just waiting for the man on the couch. But then remembers that Greyback is in his room and he glares as he slams open the door.
Greyback is lying on Harry’s bed, his hairy legs spread wide and his large cock in his hand. His face is flushed; his eyes dilated as his hips thrusts forward into his waiting fist. Harry freezes, his eyes immediately stuck on Greyback and unable to look away no matter how hard he tries. The other man is close, Harry can tell by the way his movements are jerky and his hand is shaking. It makes him lick his lips, his gaze trailing down Greyback’s very naked body until his stare is frozen on his cock.
Greyback grunts more loudly now until he arches his back and his cock explodes, cum splattering over his stomach and Harry’s bed.
Harry swallows and makes a noise at the back of his throat as Greyback smirks at him. The older man raises his hand to his mouth where he licks off his cum and Harry stumbles backwards.
“Come and play, little wolf?”
Harry shakes his head, even though his body disagrees. His own cock aches and begs for attention but he chooses to escape the room as quick as he can and pretend never to have seen that.
And he does. And so does Greyback, even though he smirks slyly whenever he catches Harry glancing at him with flushed cheeks.
*
Harry wonders if he should approach Greyback about what Hermione told him. He wants to know which child Greyback was, the one who was locked up or chained up. He already has an inkling that he was chained, but curiosity is winning him over. Every time he approaches the topic though, Greyback changes the subject quickly with a “Little Wolf, concentrate on your learning”.
There isn’t much learning going on to begin with. Greyback has taught him everything he needs to know before the transformation and the only thing left if actually turning into a wolf.
And finally the day approaches and Harry is nervous. He can already feel his skin tingle with nerves as he walks around the apartment, looking for something to do to calm himself. Greyback sits on the couch, amusement on his face as he unashamedly watches Harry.
“Do you mind?” Harry finally snaps after half an hour.
“You’re so cute when you’re nervous,” Greyback teases with a sly grin.
“Bugger off.” But it makes Harry smile anyway.
There is silence and out of the corner of his eye, Harry watches the soap opera that’s playing on TV. Greyback has it on mute and Harry is shocked that he’s not really watching it for once. He finds Harry more intriguing and that scares him.
“Who bit you?” Greyback asks and the sound of his voice makes Harry jump in surprise.
Harry licks his bottom lip and faces Greyback. “A criminal named Ridge. I was chasing him and I didn’t know he was a werewolf. It was a full moon and he just came at me.”
Greyback snorts. “And your partner? You do have one of those, don’t you?” He turns the TV off completely and stands, stretching. His shirt rides up his stomach and Harry looks away quickly.
“He’s an idiot. I do most of the work on my own.”
He doesn’t notice Greyback has moved until he feels a waft of hot air against his ear and hands on his hips. He whispers into Harry’s ear, “Why aren’t you partners with your friend, that red head, little wolf?”
Harry feels a shiver run down his spine. He stands abruptly, making Greyback step back, and crosses his arms. “Why are you curious all of a sudden? Not planning on running, are you?”
“Not until after I have you on your back and belly up in submission,” Greyback retorts without missing a beat. He chuckles and cups Harry’s cheek.
Harry hesitates, but automatically leans into the touch. He allows Greyback’s sharpened fingernails to scrape against his face gently, and even sighs in bliss when it sends of jolt of pleasure south to his cock. His hips gravitate forward, but when Greyback hums, Harry is thrown back to reality.
He pushes Greyback’s hand away and glares. “Stop doing that.”
Greyback shrugs languidly, but his eyes are dark with desire. Desire that Harry shares. And he fucking hates it.
Growling to himself, Harry storms to his room, the same bloody room that Greyback wanked in, and slams the door shut. He stays there all afternoon, listening to the sound of the TV that has been turned on again, until it’s time to go.
Greyback doesn’t tell him where they are going until they get there. They travel on a couple of brooms and it doesn’t take them long, no longer than half an hour, before they’ve reached a forest. It’s dark, trees shrouding the visual of the ground, and it’s perfect. They land on a mossy log and hide their brooms behind it.
Harry looks around nervously, unsure what it supposed to happen. Greyback told him of course, but now that it’s happening, he’s unsure if he can go through with this. He’s been through worse, much worse, but this is harder than defeating Voldemort. The control he has will be lost once more and he will give in to another side of himself, another side that he’s not willing to submit to.
Greyback looks back at him and smirks. “Calm yourself, little wolf, everything will be fine. Take your potion.”
Harry nods shortly and kneels to rummage in the bag they brought along. He finds two vials of potion, the same potion Harry stole from the ministry. It’s the first time he’s ever really laid eyes on it and it does nothing to calm the nerves.
Harry pops the cork of one and downs it, grimacing at the taste. It’s vile and thick on his tongue. As he hands the other to Greyback, he watches him carefully. The other man has already argued about taking the potion, but it was because of Harry’s consistent nagging that Greyback finally gave in. Not before calling Harry an annoying wife.
Greyback rolls his eyes and snatches the vial off Harry. He drinks it as well before throwing it on the ground, where it smashes.
“Greyback! Anyone could stand on that,” Harry snaps, staring at him in irritation.
“That’s the least of your worries right now, little wolf.” Greyback grins wickedly as he begins to walk further into the forest.
Harry huffs in annoyance. He casts an invisible spell on their belongings before following the werewolf deeper into the lush trees. It’s quiet, too quiet, and it makes Harry’s fingers twitch for his wand, which he left behind. Even with his sensitive hearing, he hears no sorts of critters crawling around the forest floor, nor can he smell any.
“It’s a full moon, little wolf,” Greyback says from ahead of him, “they know it’s time to hide. This is the night when the predators come out to play.”
Harry raises an eyebrow even though he knows Greyback can’t see it, but he doesn’t say anything. When Greyback finally stops, they are in a naked patch of the forest. It’s a large clearing with a small lake. The water is crystal clear and the reflection of the sun’s last rays flickers across it. Fireflies flitter across the water, lighting dark patches of the lake up with dancing illuminations. It’s beautiful.
“Do you come here often?” Harry asks as he continues to stare at the lake. There is a rustle behind him and a grunt, and he turns. He gapes at Greyback, who is ridding himself of his clothes.
“Sometimes, yeah.” Greyback chuckles when he sees Harry looking. “You don’t expect to change in your clothes, do you?”
Harry had never thought about it, but now he does and he flushes. Damn it to hell and back. He glances down at his own body and sighs. He’s not ashamed, but he’s not exactly comfortable being naked in front of the criminal either. No matter what’s happened over the last near month, he was not going to let Greyback get to him. Greyback would never change, he was still that criminal who killed and changed children and adults alike.
Finally Harry swallows and stares back at the lake. The afternoon sun has nearly fallen and it’s not going to be long before the change sets in. He unwraps his scarf and takes off his jacket, folding both neatly and placing them on a patch of grass. His shirt is next, but as soon as it comes off, he’s shivering from the cool wind that dances through the clearing.
Warm arms surround his body and even though it’s Greyback, Harry sighs in relief at the sudden warmth.
“You’ll get used to it,” his raspy voice whispers into his ear.
Harry stares at Greyback’s hands as they ghost against his skin, travelling south until they are at the waistband of his trousers. They fiddle with the button before it pops and Harry’s trousers are loose around his hips. Greyback presses closer to Harry, his chest against Harry’s back, as his hands work on tugging the last remaining clothing down his body.
When Greyback’s breath hitches at Harry’s lack of underwear, Harry can’t help but smile in smugness. For once it was he who has surprised Greyback.
“Planning on something, little wolf?” Greyback’s tongue traces the shell of Harry’s ear.
Harry smirks at Greyback as he steps out of his trousers. “I’m still not going to show you my belly.”
“Mmm, I love challenges, little wolf.”
Greyback takes a step back from Harry and walks towards to the lake. His large thighs and his arse, his nice, very firm looking arse, tense as he walks. Harry follows his movements until Greyback stops near the lake and crouches.
“Get ready, little wolf,” Greyback says loudly enough so that Harry can hear him. “You’re about to go to hell and back.”
Harry stiffens as he glances at the rising moon. The sun is barely viewable and the last rays of light are barely there, the moon is already in the sky, but only now is the forest darkening.
Harry doesn’t know if Greyback is crouching to get ready for the change, but Harry mimics his posture. And then he feels it.
The pain feels like a thousand needles are digging into his skin. He screams and falls to the ground, grasping his arms and scratching at them, anything to stop the pain. He hears his bones crack, lengthen and bend and he chokes on his own saliva as he tries to push himself up, only to fall on the ground again in pain. His head feels like it’s about to explode and he’s being ripped in half, he’s sure of it.
Out of the corner of his watering eye, he can see Greyback. He’s standing, his back bent as he howls at the moon. He’s a wolf now.
And then Harry clenches his eyes closed again as he screams. He tries to curl himself up into a ball, but his own back bends as the pain returns. Hair sprouts out of his skin and his fingernails lengthen.
It feels like forever before the pain stops and Harry’s throat is raw. He twitches, but keeps his eyes clenched shut. Something wet rubs over his snout and when he does opens his eyes, he sees Greyback’s wolf form sitting beside him. His coloured vision is gone and he blinks fast a couple of times to see if it will come back. It doesn’t. Greyback nuzzles his snout again and makes a noise much like a whine.
Harry wants to lie there and never get up, but he doesn’t have control of his body any longer. He stands and nuzzles Greyback’s fur covered face. He wishes he can talk, he wishes he has some control over his body, but he doesn’t. I’m just along for the ride, Harry thinks to himself.
Greyback takes off towards the trees and Harry follows quickly. They run through the trunks like playing a game. There are many twists and turns and Harry isn’t sure what they are doing until his wolf form smells something. Prey, his mind tells him as his body moves quickly. Greyback is ahead of him, having smelt it before Harry. And they were off, chasing after whatever animal had enough courage to be roaming around the forest with two wolves hanging around.
*
Harry whines as he falls on his back, throwing his four legs into the air as he scratches his fur-covered body in the grass. He turns his head to see if Greyback is paying attention, but he’s lying several feet away, eyes closed in slumber.
Harry rolls onto his feet and lowers the top half on his body to the ground, his arse in the air and tail wagging, as he creeps forward. Greyback moves and Harry pauses, but when the alpha doesn’t wake, he moves forward again.
Harry lets out a growl before he pounces on top of Greyback and gnaws playfully on the other wolf’s ear. Greyback lifts his head and snarls before he raises a paw and slaps Harry with it, knocking him off. When Harry shakes his head and stares at Greyback, he notices the other wolf has barely opened one eye.
Harry growls again, but as he moves in for another attack, all Greyback has to do is raise a paw and Harry is tumbling backwards. He lands on the ground with a whine and stays there, staring at Greyback with a sulking look.
Greyback growls and looks up. Harry follows his gaze. The first ray of sunlight flitters across the forest floor and he mentally prepares himself for the pain that’s to come.
*
“That was fun,” Greyback chuckles as Harry opens the door to the apartment. Harry is dirty, his skin marred with grass and dirt, and he wants nothing more than to have a shower and pretend that it was all a dream. But the main thing is that they didn’t hurt anyone, didn’t kill anyone, and they did have fun.
“I thought it would be worse,” Harry says with a smile.
“It’s always better when you have company, little wolf.” Greyback wraps his hand around Harry’s arm and pulls him backwards.
Harry doesn’t want to fight the touch and so he turns and presses his hands on Greyback’s naked chest. Greyback refused to put his shirt on, claiming that it felt so much better after a full moon if he was naked. Of course, Harry argued with the idea and they came to the agreement that he would only leave his shirt off.
Greyback grins when Harry stares at him in surprise.
Harry doesn’t know what possesses him to do it, but he stands on his toes and leans forward to press his lips against Greyback’s.
Greyback is still for a moment, before his lips move against Harry’s. His hands cup Harry’s jaw and he deepens the kiss and leads Harry backwards.
Harry grips Greyback’s arms and gasps when the back of knees hits the couch. He falls back, with Greyback lowering himself on to top of him.
When Greyback breaks the kiss, he grins wickedly. “Is this you showing your alpha your belly, little wolf?”
Harry rolls his eyes. “Don’t push it, big alpha.”
Greyback growls in irritation at the ridiculous nickname and smashes his lips against Harry’s again. They move against each other, hands touching and lips feeling. The smell of arousal fills the air and it causes need to pulsate at Harry. Clothes are thrown around the room and skin slides against skin.
For the first time in his life, Harry feels like he’s never felt before. All of his senses are on full alert and he can hear and smell everything. He hears Greyback’s heartbeat quicken when Harry wraps his mouth around his cock and he can smell the sweat that trails down Greyback’s chest. He can hear Greyback’s breath hitch as he slides into Harry and he can smell the scent of his cum as he explodes inside of him.
It’s like a slow motion scene from a movie and Harry notices every movement and every noise. And for one small moment, he wants to forget who they both are. He enjoyed himself last night, but there are no promises that every night will be like that because Greyback is still a criminal and Harry is still an Auror.
He does kiss Greyback on the lips again though and smiles. That morning, he forgets who they are and just feels and it’s the best decision he has ever made. And as he closes his eyes to let sleep overtake him, he thinks about the future and wonders what will become of them.
*
When he wakes, he knows before he opens his eyes that Greyback is gone. His back is cold and the room is quiet. Greyback’s scent barely lingers. Harry sighs as he sits up and looks around the lounge. There is a piece of paper on the table and Harry doesn’t want to get up to look at it, but knows he must. He rises and picks it up, immediately recognising the handwriting.
Little Wolf,
What a pretty belly you have.
Harry pauses here to laugh. Arsehole.
As you can see, I’m long gone. I’ve taught you everything I can about being a werewolf and now it’s your turn to live up to your end of the bargain. I’m not going back to Azkaban. But don’t fret, little wolf, you just might see me around in the forest on the next full moon.
Don’t worry, I won’t kill anyone. I don’t want you coming after me in that sexy uniform with your useless partner. I might just rip it off you before I take you on the ground.
When you get to work next, I’ve left you a present. He’s alive, and still very annoying. You forgot to mention that guy that bit you never shuts up talking.
Until we see each other again,
Greyback.
Harry stares at it for a moment and then smiles. It wasn’t like he never expected Greyback to run. Somewhere in his head, he knew it was coming and he was waiting for it. This wasn’t the end, it was only the beginning and Harry was going to give him what he wanted — a chase. Not only will it be for appearances for the ministry, who he’d need to make up an excuse for, but for his inner wolf. He’d just found his alpha, he wasn’t going to let him go that easy.
The predator was about to become the prey.
Author/Artist:
freakingcrupsPrompt: Harry gets bitten by a rogue werewolf. He reluctantly turns to Fenrir for guidance.
Pairing(s): Greyback/Harry
Word Count/Art Medium: 8,830
Rating: R
Warning(s): There is some graphically violent described scenes. And Greyback is a little OOC. He’s not as mean as he is in the books. Also, it's not really a happy ending, but it's not sad either.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Firstly, I admit in shame that I rushed the ending so I could have it finished. Second, thank you to my wonderful beta. And lastly, the title comes from the song ‘Werewolves’ by Short Stack.
Summary: When Harry is bitten by an unregistered werewolf, Greyback is the only person he can turn to. But at what cost?
It came of nowhere and before Harry could reach for his wand, he finds himself on the ground, sets of teeth clenching around the tender skin of his neck and shoulder. He screams in pain and when his grappling hands manage to find his wand in his robes, he can already feel the blood drip down his abused flesh and soak into his dark red Auror uniform. His hands shake as he screams a spell and the wolf is flung off him.
His hand automatically rises to his neck, his whole body shaking in shock as he feels the deep gash. His skin is ripped, jagged edges sticking in different directions and blood oozes from his wound like water from a waterfall. When he glances up, the wolf is gone, but he knows who it is. It’s Ridge — he would not forget those dark eyes, full of hunger and insanity and it tears him up inside to know that the bastard has got one up on him.
And now he’s here, alone, bleeding to his death. His chest rattles with every breath he takes and he feels cold. He wonders if his life will flash before his eyes like they do in those Muggle movies, but nothing happens. He can feel his heartbeat, strong but slow, and he feels his consciousness begin to slip away from him. Whatever thoughts he has in his head disappears and he willingly lets the darkness take him.
When he wakes, he is in the same spot as he was before. His partner hasn’t found him, he realises. Either that or he was never looking for him to begin with. Harry doesn’t like the idiot that much, he’s useless. Every noise makes him jump and he constantly mutters about Grims and not wanting to die. Harry wonders how he even passed his Auror exams.
When full consciousness comes back to him, Harry sits up. His body hurts, but mostly his neck and shoulder. He reaches up to touch it and tries to turn his head and gape at his injured shoulder. It’s not injured anymore; it barely looks like it’s been scratched. The only sign that there was ever a wound there is his ripped and blood-stained robes. It’s not right and he doesn’t understand it.
He looks around, but there’s nothing for him to see. It’s quiet in the forest. The trees whisper with the wind and the birds chirp. It’s the evening, Harry notes, and checks his watch. It’s seven-thirty and that confuses him. He was on Ridge’s tail around nine, not seven. He must have been here for a whole day.
Harry frowns as he stands and groans. His body protests and he reaches for something to steady himself as the world spins around him. He finds a tree trunk and leans against it, taking deep breaths. He feels like death warmed over.
When he finally walks, it takes him two hours to find a small township. He’s in a wretched state and so can’t Apparate and it’s a killer to walk such a long distance, but he does it. When he reaches it, he’s greeted by an old lady who was out shopping. She has worried lines on her face as she clutches at him and leads him to her house. He loses consciousness again and when he wakes, it’s two days later and he’s feeling better.
Her name is Elizabeth and he thanks her. She waves it off and tells him that she owled the Auror department and a red head came to check on him. Harry knows immediately it’s Ron. She says that he’ll be back as soon as Harry wakes.
And he does come back now that Harry is awake and greets him with a hug. Harry winces but doesn’t pull away. He’s just happy that he can see Ron again. He thought he was going to die.
“What happened, mate?” Ron looks at him with worry.
Harry just shrugs and says, “Ridge.” He doesn’t know how else to explain it. If hearing voices that ‘weren’t there’ made him insane in their second year at Hogwarts, he can’t imagine how Ron will react to a wound that maybe wasn’t even there to begin with.
Ron seems to understand and with a last thank you to Elizabeth, they both floo back to the Ministry. Harry is still sore, but he accepts the hugs and kind words as though he was healthy. Hermione holds on for the longest, tears dampening his robes. She’s also the first one to notice his tattered uniform in his hands and asks in horror what happened.
“Whose blood is that?” Hermione gasps, reaching for the uniform and tugging at it to look at the bloodied and ripped shoulder of the clothing.
Harry stiffens. “I don’t know,” he lies.
Hermione frowns at him and crosses her arms and Harry knows he needs to come up with an excuse, and quickly.
“I lost consciousness.” It’s the truth and he hopes it quells her need for answers.
It does. She looks stricken as she pulls him into another hug. “Harry, you should go see a Healer at St Mungos.”
“There’s not a scratch on me, Hermione.” Another truth. Not even the little scratches, the ones he got from running past broken branches, was left on his skin. It’s flawless, merely darkened with dirt and grime from the forest.
Hermione looks unsure, but when Ron rubs comforting circles on her back, she relents.
He’s not fine though. He’s done his reading and he knows what Ridge is, and he knows he should have realised earlier. Of course he was a werewolf, there was no other explanation for it. The bastard was unregistered, which was why Harry was not ready for him. And it was just his luck, to be chasing the criminal on the night of the full moon.
Idiot, Harry mutters to himself.
And that’s why he’s here, standing at the entrance of Azkaban, unsure if he is doing the right thing. But he can’t back out now.
He enters and immediately winces. There’s screaming and muttering from the insane, and when they see him, they yell bloody murder. Harry doesn’t look at them, he’s learnt not to give them that satisfaction, but it’s hard. He hates this place and usually avoids it.
When the guards stop in front of Greyback’s cell, Harry takes a deep breath and steps up to the bars, his eyes searching for the man. He finds him at the toilet, whistling a Wicked Sister’s tune as he rocks his hips and pisses. Harry glares at his back. Greyback knows they’re there and he’s just putting on a show, Harry sees this and it angers him. He knows the other man can smell him. He knows this because his own nose can smell things that he could never before — he can smell a person’s natural smell, beneath their heavily added perfume or cologne, and he can smell a cake being baked three streets over from his apartment. He can’t control it and it’s driving him crazy.
“Greyback,” Harry finally hisses.
The other man shakes his leg, much like a dog, and Harry hears him do up the zip of his trousers before he’s flushing the toilet and turning around.
“Ah Potter.” The man grins, feigning surprise as he wipes his hands on the thigh of his trousers. His voice is as rough and raspy as Harry remembers. “What do I owe for the pleasure of your company?”
Harry hesitates and glances at the guards. “Leave us.”
One of the guards opens his mouth to protest, but the other hits him in the arm and gestures down the pathway. They both leave.
“You sure that was a smart idea, little wolf?”
Harry stares at him sharply and Greyback grins, his teeth glinting in the barely lit cell.
“You know then?”
“How could I not?” The sound of Greyback’s heavy footsteps rebound off the brick walls as he moves closer to Harry. “I can smell it on you. You smell so fucking good.”
Harry jumps back when Greyback’s hands curl around the bars. The werewolf is staring at him in blatant hunger and it makes him uncomfortable. He shifts slightly. It’s not fear that drives him to silence, but the knowledge that something stirs in excitement inside of him.
“It’s okay,” Greyback coos, a smirk sliding onto his face. “You’re meant to feel like that.”
Harry ignores the words in favour of closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. When he opens them again, Greyback is still staring at him knowingly and it drives him insane. Harry clenches his fists and takes two steps forward until his face in hovering in front of Greyback’s.
“I need your help,” he says quietly.
Greyback raises an eyebrow. “Are you here to strike a bargain with me?”
“Yes,” Harry mutters reluctantly. He hates being here, but Greyback is his only choice. He can’t tell Ron and Hermione, he doesn’t need their pity or their help.
“What’s the deal?” Greyback’s hand uncurls from the bar and reaches for Harry.
Harry doesn’t back down when the long fingernails scrape against his cheek. He’s not going to show the fear he feels creep up his spine. But as soon as he touches him, the fear transforms into excitement again and before he can contemplate it, Greyback pulls away.
“I get you out of here, under my supervision. You teach me about being a werewolf.”
Greyback appears to be considering it, before he finally nods with a smirk. “Deal.”
Harry doesn’t wait around long after that before he leaves. He has nothing else to say to the werewolf and his confusion plagues him. He wonders if it’s part of being a werewolf, but he doesn’t remember Remus telling him anything of the like. And it scares him that he can feel that way around the other man.
Ron asks if he’s insane and he ignores him. Sometimes he asks himself that as well. He has to be, right? Why else would he be attempting to get Greyback out of Azkaban? The Wizengamot is shocked at his plight and they don’t pretend not to question his motives. He gives them half truths.
“Ridge is an unregistered werewolf.” He pauses for them to gasp in shock. “And I believe Greyback would be useful in tracking him. However, I cannot work with him while he is Azkaban. I ask that you consider his release under my twenty-four seven supervision until Ridge is found.”
Hermione stares at him from her chair amongst the other Wizengamot members. He tries to avoid looking at her, but he can’t. He knows that look well and feels ashamed. It’s not that she doesn’t trust him, but more that she doesn’t understand why he’s doing it.
Kingsley leans forward on his chair, his dark eyes analysing Harry carefully. Harry doesn’t move, he barely breathes as his friend stares at him. He hopes that he doesn’t look guilty.
“Do you know what you’re doing, Harry?” Kingsley finally asks, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
No, he wants to say, but instead Harry swallows and then nods. “Yes.”
Kingsley nods as well. “All in favour?”
It’s a close call, but he ends up being approved.
When he goes to fetch Greyback, the werewolf is smirking in pleasure. The guards beside him are nervous and they shift their weight from one foot to the other. Harry has no doubt that they’ve heard what Greyback has done to people and he doesn’t blame them for their fear.
“If you try to escape—”
“You’ll hunt me down like the wolf that I am?” Greyback chuckles deeply.
“Yes.” Harry nods at the guards and they step away, returning to their former duties. Greyback isn’t restrained by anything, but Harry has his wand at the ready. The werewolf notices this and it only makes his grin wider.
“I’m not going to hurt you, little wolf,” Greyback purrs, taking a step forward so his chest is nearly flushed against Harry’s. He takes a deep sniff and sighs in pleasure. “You really do smell good.”
Harry takes a step back and glances around to make sure no one has seen them. When he’s sure he hasn’t seen anyone watching, he glares at Greyback.
“All that’s going to happen here is that you’re going to teach me about being a werewolf. That’s it.”
Greyback chuckles again and he reaches out to touch Harry’s cheek. Harry slaps his hand away before he can. “And what happens when you know all that I have to teach you? What happens to me?”
Harry frowns. He hasn’t thought that far ahead. “I don’t know.”
“I would like to stay out of Azkaban.” Greyback crosses his large arms over his chest. “Wouldn’t you like to be a pack, little wolf? You’d love the taste of blood.” He grins when he says this, his eyes lighting up.
The thought nearly makes Harry sick. “There will be no killing,” he says sharply. “If you want to stay out of Azkaban, Greyback, you don’t kill anyone.”
Greyback pouts, but Harry knows it’s meant to mock him. He is trying to act like a kicked puppy and he does a good job of it. “Not even one?”
Harry glares and points his wand at Greyback. “Don’t even try it.”
Greyback takes that step forward again causing Harry’s wand to dig into his chest. He doesn’t seem to notice. “What about fucking? Am I allowed to fuck at least?”
Harry swallows down the bile in his throat. He keeps his composure when he answers. “No. You are to be under my supervision at all times.”
Greyback’s smirk is sly. “I guess it’s just you and me then, little wolf.”
“Stop calling me that,” Harry growls before grasping Greyback’s upper arm, leading him to the floo system. He has a feeling that the werewolf was going to drive him insane.
“This is the living room and where you’ll be sleeping,” Harry says as they enter his apartment. It’s only small, located on the edge of the magic world. Muggles live in the houses a few blocks over, so most of the time he has to be careful what magic he uses. It’s only one bedroom, so Harry has set up the couch for the werewolf.
Greyback looks at it and snorts. “You don’t expect me to fit on that, do you?”
Harry frowns and peers at the couch. It’s not big either, but he assumed it was big enough to fit Greyback on it. “Yes.”
He scoffs, a deep raspy sound at the back of his throat, and turns to Harry. “I’m not your dog, Potter.”
It’s the first time he’s called him Potter since they’ve seen each other again and it makes Harry pause. He notices that Greyback isn’t angry, but his face is twisted in mild irritation. He’s insulted, but Harry’s not quite sure why.
“I don’t have a spare room, Greyback,” Harry says as he walks further into the room and shrugs off his jacket. He lays it over the back of the couch and points towards the small hallway to the left. “My bedroom, the bathroom and the loo is down there. The bathroom and the loo are to the right.”
Harry jumps when rough hands land on his shoulders from behind, gripping tightly. He jerks away immediately and pivots on the heels of his feet until he’s facing the offender, and glares at him. Even though the touch was brief, it has his body buzzing and his senses heightening.
“Don’t touch me,” he snaps. His skin itches and he’s not sure whether it’s because his body enjoyed the touch or whether he is sickened by it. This man is a murderer and nothing Greyback does will change that, and Harry doesn’t know why all of a sudden he likes his touch.
“What has changed about you since you were bitten?” Greyback asks, seemingly unaffected by Harry’s hostile attitude. He sits on the couch and lays his arms on the length of the backrest. He looks comfortable, casual, and it annoys Harry.
“My smell,” he answers, glaring at Greyback.
Greyback nods and smiles. It’s not a mocking smile or a sadistic one, it’s natural, and it’s the first time Harry has seen it. It’s not a beautiful smile — nothing about Greyback will ever be beautiful — but it’s real and so it looks good on him.
“Smell always comes first. And then hearing. Has your hearing changed?”
Harry thinks about it, but doesn’t recall any change and so shakes his head.
“Sit, little wolf.” Greyback pats the space beside him and Harry stares at it. He’s not afraid, but proximity to Greyback is not a good idea at that moment. He sits anyway and narrows his eyes in warning. Greyback chuckles and removes his arm from the backrest so it doesn’t press against Harry’s back. “When were you bitten?”
“A week ago,” he answers with a sigh. It’s like a vague memory now and he wonders if it’s a dream. Sometimes he stands in front of the mirror naked and touches his shoulder, tracing a finger from the base of his neck and down his arm. Goosebumps would rise on his skin, but no longer was there pain or any sign that it was injured to begin with.
“Makes sense. And where did you get bitten?”
Sitting on the couch with Greyback was weird. If someone had told Harry two weeks ago that he’d be sitting in his lounge room with Greyback having a placid conversation, he’d tell them that they were insane. He might have even accompanied them to St Mungos himself to make sure they actually made it to the insanity ward. Now he wonders if maybe he should be the one to check in there.
Harry hesitates before he curls his fingers around the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head. Goosebumps rise on his skin as Greyback stares at his bare chest with open interest and he resists the urge to punch him in the face. He needs his help. Harry runs a hand over his shoulder and closes his eyes as memories hit him with enough force to leave him breathless. “Here.”
Greyback whistles. “The wolf knew what he was doing,” he says.
Harry jumps when a rough hand touches his uninjured shoulder and caresses the skin there. It shouldn’t feel good, not with the sharp nails on Greyback’s hands or with the coarseness of his palm, but it does. It soothes him and he sighs reluctantly at the wave of peace that overtakes his body.
“He wanted to make sure you turned,” Greyback murmurs as his hand travels down Harry’s arm.
“Stop,” Harry says suddenly, jerking away from the touch. His eyes snap open and he glares at Greyback. “What in the bloody hell is this, Greyback? How are you doing this?”
The werewolf sits back and raises his hands in a surrender position. He grins again, but this time it’s mocking once more and Harry feels out of the loop and he hates it.
“You’re a newly turned wolf. You had no pack, no allegiances. But you came to me asking for help, you made me your pack, little wolf. I’m your alpha and your instincts tell you to please me.” Greyback says this with amusement.
Harry thinks about punching him, just to wipe that smile of his face. Or better yet, his wand was sitting in his jacket, if he could reach for it…
Instead he frowns and persists in his questions. “Why?”
Greyback leans against the backrest and raises his hands to the back of his head where he links his fingers, appearing casual as he chuckles. He is smug, the bastard, because he knows that Harry is clueless and the only person Harry will get the answers off is him.
“It’s the way of life. Think about it hard. When you have wolves, they have a pack. And then they have their leader, their alpha. To survive, they need to stay in their pack and to do that, they need to obey their alpha, please him. Your instincts are telling you to roll on your back, expose your stomach submissively. You want me to fuck you.”
Harry stands immediately and snorts. “To hell with that,” he hisses as he reaches for his discarded shirt and slips it back on. He feels better now that he’s no longer exposed to the hunger in Greyback’s eyes. “I just want to learn how to be a werewolf, that’s it. And we have a deal.”
“We do.” Greyback cocks his head, his gaze lingering on Harry’s now covered chest and stomach. “But if you find you ever want to lie on your back and expose your stomach to me, you’re always welcomed.”
His eyes are raw with emotion and Harry avoids looking. He would never, never do that, he promises. But that doesn’t stop him from wondering if he was fooling himself…
The first few days pass with ease. Greyback seems more reserved than he had been and Harry was thankful. He didn’t want to see the hunger, need, and insanity in the other man’s eyes. It would have been distracting.
Greyback starts by teaching him about his heightened senses. In the day after the werewolf’s release, Harry’s hearing grew clearer until he could hear the steps of a rodent in an apartment two floors down. Greyback teaches him about it — how to control it and to hear what he wants to hear. And then they work on his nose until like his hearing, he focuses on what he wants to smell.
They are the easy parts, Greyback tells him.
“The hardest part is your first transformation,” he says, his voice thick with sleep. He has just woken and his grey hair is mangled over his forehead as he stretches.
Harry’s eyes follow the lines of his naked chest until he has to suppress a whimper. The man is considerably older than Harry, and while he is not beautiful or even handsome, his chest and stomach is hard in all the right places. No one as old as Greyback probably was could be that fit so Harry assumes it’s partly because of his werewolf DNA.
“It will hurt,” Greyback continues with a smirk. He’s seen Harry looking. “When did you lose your virginity with a male, little wolf?”
Harry frowns, but does not question how Greyback even knows he’s been with a man. He merely answers, “When I was nineteen.”
Greyback’s smirk widens. “And who with?”
Harry knows this has nothing to do with the learning and thinks about questioning it, then quickly decides not to. “Draco Malfoy.” There is a question in Greyback’s raised eyebrows and Harry answers before he even asks. “It was a one night stand. Never repeated.”
Greyback chuckles. “Well then, think about your first time. Hurt, did it?”
“Yes.” Malfoy had been considerably rougher than a usual sexual encounter, but Harry had taken it without complaint.
“Think of that pain and double it,” Greyback pauses, “then double that doubled amount of pain and you have your first transformation. It’s like being ripped apart, your insides spilling from your guts and then sewn back together without your lungs. It feels like you can’t breathe, you can’t feel. You’re numb, nothing but a shell of your former being.”
Harry thinks about it and grimaces. The imagery stains his brain with violent scenes and then it makes him think of the night he was bitten. That had been pain, far worse than the loss of his virginity, and if Greyback’s words were anything to go by, the transformation was going to be a lot worse.
“What do I have to do?” Harry walks over to the kitchen where he has just made fresh tea. He hands one of the cups to Greyback, who downs the very hot liquid in one gulp. Harry winces. He takes a sip of his own tea and burns his tongue.
“You have to survive.” Greyback’s sharp fingernails tap against the cup in his hand. “Wolves are hunted as well, little wolf, and if you want to be unregistered, you’ll always be hiding it from your friends. That’s survival tip number one.”
“What made you do it?” Harry asks after a moment of silence. He blows air on his tea, hoping to cool it down enough to sip. “Kill all those people. Turn those young children into werewolves.”
“Why not?” Greyback answers immediately like he has been expected the question.
“Because they were innocent.” Harry glares at the larger man and resists the urge to reach for his wand. “You were a monster.”
Greyback chuckles, but it’s low and sad, and Harry frowns. He sets his empty cup on the table and takes a step back from Harry, staring down at him in misery. Or at least Harry thought he saw misery before it was disappeared into nothing. Just blank eyes gazing at him like he didn’t understand. Harry realises that he wants to understand, because he sees that there’s a story there.
“Ask your know-it-all friend what the ministry did to werewolves in my childhood and then you will have your answer.”
After that, they don’t talk much. Their day of learning is over and instead Harry turns on the Muggle TV. Greyback is enraptured by the contraption and watches it all day while Harry sends a letter to Hermione asking her to visit. He receives a letter later that afternoon when he’s watching the telly as well.
The next day when Hermione visits, Harry makes sure Greyback stays in his bedroom. Greyback isn’t happy about it, but Harry sets up the bedroom TV and he stops grumbling as he watches a soap opera. He’s addicted to one in particular and Harry can’t help but watch in amusement at the noises the werewolf makes while he’s watching it. From snorts to grumbles to what Harry assumed was a noise of happiness. Greyback denied it of course, and claimed that Harry had heard things.
Harry greets Hermione with a hug. He’s missed her, but since Greyback has moved in under Harry’s supervision, he’s had no contact with his best friends. Ron doesn’t agree with it and out of protest, refuses to talk to Harry until he comes to his senses. Hermione is a little more silent on the subject, although Harry knows not knowing the real reason why is killing her. She’s smart enough to see through Harry’s lies.
Harry passes Hermione a cold drink of butterbeer as they both sit on the couch.
“Hermione, can I ask you a question?”
She smiles immediately. “Of course, Harry.”
Harry stares at her for a moment, rearranging his next words in his head until he is satisfied with what he is going to say. “How did the Ministry treat werewolves when Greyback was a child?”
Hermione appears shocked and takes a moment to respond. “I don’t know how old Greyback is…” she starts, glancing towards the hallway. They can hear the TV from where they sit. “But if I was to guess around what years he was a child…oh.” Her thumb circles around the brim of her glass as realisation dawns on her face. She shakes her head and asks, “Why do you want to know this, Harry? Did he say something to you?”
“No,” Harry answers quietly. It doesn’t matter how low he says it though, because Greyback will be able to hear what they say anyway. “I’m curious.”
Hermione isn’t stupid though and she looks him for a long moment. It doesn’t appear like she’s going to answer, but when Harry opens his mouth to say more, she finally speaks up. “You have to understand that the werewolves were misunderstood back in those days, moreso than they are now.”
Harry snorts before he can hold it in and then looks away in shame when Hermione looks miffed. Hermione is protective of the Ministry and usually Harry is too, but only when it has to do with Kingsley. He’s a good Minister of Magic and anyone who says otherwise is mostly purebloods who have been disgraced for their part in the war. But Hermione knows as much as Harry that the Ministry weren’t always filled with kind hearted people and Fudge is only an example of many.
“Werewolves were discovered in the 1600s,” Harry says, thinking back to the 1637 werewolf code of conduct he saw on a visit to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. “You can’t tell me that nearly three hundred years on, the Ministry still misunderstood werewolves.”
Hermione ‘tchs’ almost silently but Harry can hear it. He finds that his sensitive hearing is useful in these sorts of circumstances.
“Even so, the Ministry didn’t know what to do with them.” Hermione sighs and sets her butterbeer on the coffee table. She grasps Harry’s hand in her palms and squeezes it gently. “Harry, why are you doing this?”
Hermione has that look on her face again, the one that pleads with him to tell her the truth and he nearly gives in. And then he thinks about his problems and how she would react to them. He sees her shock and then she would cry, wiping away at her tears before she’d crush Harry into a hug much like Mrs Weasley would. She’d promise Harry that they’d work it out and that he shouldn’t be ashamed of what happened. She would also tell him that he has to be registered.
There were a few things he was certain of; one of them was that there was no way in hell he was going to tell her.
“Do you not trust me?”
He knows that will hit her hard and it does. She gapes at him. “Of course I do, Harry, I just worry about you.”
Harry sighs and places his glass on the coffee table before he pulls her into the hug that she so desperately wants. He loves Hermione for she was a rock in the hardest years of his life and he’d never forget that. Hermione is the sister he never had and while others called her nosy, he called her caring. But there were times, like this one, that he doesn’t want her prying into his private life.
“Please tell me?” He whispers into her ear. Before he pulls away completely, he kisses her cheek in reassurance.
Hermione still looks unsettled, but she finally smiles. “They were cruel,” she admits softly. She lays her hands in her lap and looks at them like she can’t bear to look Harry in the eye. “They locked most of the adults up for life, kept them away from wizards and witches. It was claimed that it was for magic folk’s safety. Harry, back in those days, they didn’t have the Wolfsbane Potion. They didn’t know what else to do.”
“And the children?” Harry asks sharply.
“It depended on the child. Some were locked up in specialised institutions for werewolf children. Others were chained. Werewolf children were never as strong as adults.” When she does look at him, her eyes are filled with tears.
“Chained?” Harry feels his voice break. “Like animals? They were human beings!”
“The ministry classified them as beasts, Harry, not magical beings.”
“And that gave them the right to treat the children badly? The adults who’ve done nothing wrong? How was it their fault that they were bitten by another unwillingly?” Harry stands angrily, taking a step back. He knows he’s taking it personally now and he knows Hermione will question his abrupt anger. “We condemn Greyback for killing and turning people and he deserves it, I won’t deny that, but how are we to justify those actions taken from the ministry?”
Hermione stands as well. Worry etches into her face as she reaches for Harry, but he jerks his arm back. He does not want to be touched.
“How is anything in the past justified, Harry? We make mistakes, but we learn from them. Kingsley is a good Minster of Magic and you know this. He would never do things like that. Even in the Muggle world, governments have done things in the past that cannot be justified. Hitler, for example.”
“And yet Kingsley stills asks for werewolves to be registered?” he snaps.
“Harry! You know as well as I do that it’s not just about protecting witches and wizards. It’s about protecting the werewolves as well. If they’re registered, the ministry can help them. Many can’t afford Wolfsbane Potion and the ministry helps them by providing it.”
Harry takes a deep breath and sighs. Hermione’s right. He’s taken his anger too far.
“Are you okay, Harry?”
He wants to say no, he’s not. He’s a werewolf and everything he knows is being thrown upside down. He can hear things that he shouldn’t be able to hear and smell things that shouldn’t be possible to smell. He’s going to change on the full moon and he’s not sure he’s ready for it. And above all that, he’s taken Greyback out of Azkaban to teach him about being a werewolf, but at the same time he wants nothing more than to roll over and beg the werewolf to touch him, fuck him, do anything.
“Yes,” Harry says quietly.
They don’t talk about the ministry again, instead choosing lighter topics like Ron and his obsession over Hermione’s Muggle artefacts. It keeps his mind off heavier things like the upcoming full moon that’s only a week away.
When she finally makes her leave, Harry sighs deeply. It was good catching up with her, but he wonders what Greyback has been getting up to in that time. He knows the man would have listened to every word they said and he doesn’t begrudge him for it. If he was Greyback, he would have as well.
As he approaches the room, he frowns as his ears picks up on noise. It’s groaning and panting and Harry finds himself blushing. He wanks enough to know exactly what Greyback is doing and he contemplates just waiting for the man on the couch. But then remembers that Greyback is in his room and he glares as he slams open the door.
Greyback is lying on Harry’s bed, his hairy legs spread wide and his large cock in his hand. His face is flushed; his eyes dilated as his hips thrusts forward into his waiting fist. Harry freezes, his eyes immediately stuck on Greyback and unable to look away no matter how hard he tries. The other man is close, Harry can tell by the way his movements are jerky and his hand is shaking. It makes him lick his lips, his gaze trailing down Greyback’s very naked body until his stare is frozen on his cock.
Greyback grunts more loudly now until he arches his back and his cock explodes, cum splattering over his stomach and Harry’s bed.
Harry swallows and makes a noise at the back of his throat as Greyback smirks at him. The older man raises his hand to his mouth where he licks off his cum and Harry stumbles backwards.
“Come and play, little wolf?”
Harry shakes his head, even though his body disagrees. His own cock aches and begs for attention but he chooses to escape the room as quick as he can and pretend never to have seen that.
And he does. And so does Greyback, even though he smirks slyly whenever he catches Harry glancing at him with flushed cheeks.
Harry wonders if he should approach Greyback about what Hermione told him. He wants to know which child Greyback was, the one who was locked up or chained up. He already has an inkling that he was chained, but curiosity is winning him over. Every time he approaches the topic though, Greyback changes the subject quickly with a “Little Wolf, concentrate on your learning”.
There isn’t much learning going on to begin with. Greyback has taught him everything he needs to know before the transformation and the only thing left if actually turning into a wolf.
And finally the day approaches and Harry is nervous. He can already feel his skin tingle with nerves as he walks around the apartment, looking for something to do to calm himself. Greyback sits on the couch, amusement on his face as he unashamedly watches Harry.
“Do you mind?” Harry finally snaps after half an hour.
“You’re so cute when you’re nervous,” Greyback teases with a sly grin.
“Bugger off.” But it makes Harry smile anyway.
There is silence and out of the corner of his eye, Harry watches the soap opera that’s playing on TV. Greyback has it on mute and Harry is shocked that he’s not really watching it for once. He finds Harry more intriguing and that scares him.
“Who bit you?” Greyback asks and the sound of his voice makes Harry jump in surprise.
Harry licks his bottom lip and faces Greyback. “A criminal named Ridge. I was chasing him and I didn’t know he was a werewolf. It was a full moon and he just came at me.”
Greyback snorts. “And your partner? You do have one of those, don’t you?” He turns the TV off completely and stands, stretching. His shirt rides up his stomach and Harry looks away quickly.
“He’s an idiot. I do most of the work on my own.”
He doesn’t notice Greyback has moved until he feels a waft of hot air against his ear and hands on his hips. He whispers into Harry’s ear, “Why aren’t you partners with your friend, that red head, little wolf?”
Harry feels a shiver run down his spine. He stands abruptly, making Greyback step back, and crosses his arms. “Why are you curious all of a sudden? Not planning on running, are you?”
“Not until after I have you on your back and belly up in submission,” Greyback retorts without missing a beat. He chuckles and cups Harry’s cheek.
Harry hesitates, but automatically leans into the touch. He allows Greyback’s sharpened fingernails to scrape against his face gently, and even sighs in bliss when it sends of jolt of pleasure south to his cock. His hips gravitate forward, but when Greyback hums, Harry is thrown back to reality.
He pushes Greyback’s hand away and glares. “Stop doing that.”
Greyback shrugs languidly, but his eyes are dark with desire. Desire that Harry shares. And he fucking hates it.
Growling to himself, Harry storms to his room, the same bloody room that Greyback wanked in, and slams the door shut. He stays there all afternoon, listening to the sound of the TV that has been turned on again, until it’s time to go.
Greyback doesn’t tell him where they are going until they get there. They travel on a couple of brooms and it doesn’t take them long, no longer than half an hour, before they’ve reached a forest. It’s dark, trees shrouding the visual of the ground, and it’s perfect. They land on a mossy log and hide their brooms behind it.
Harry looks around nervously, unsure what it supposed to happen. Greyback told him of course, but now that it’s happening, he’s unsure if he can go through with this. He’s been through worse, much worse, but this is harder than defeating Voldemort. The control he has will be lost once more and he will give in to another side of himself, another side that he’s not willing to submit to.
Greyback looks back at him and smirks. “Calm yourself, little wolf, everything will be fine. Take your potion.”
Harry nods shortly and kneels to rummage in the bag they brought along. He finds two vials of potion, the same potion Harry stole from the ministry. It’s the first time he’s ever really laid eyes on it and it does nothing to calm the nerves.
Harry pops the cork of one and downs it, grimacing at the taste. It’s vile and thick on his tongue. As he hands the other to Greyback, he watches him carefully. The other man has already argued about taking the potion, but it was because of Harry’s consistent nagging that Greyback finally gave in. Not before calling Harry an annoying wife.
Greyback rolls his eyes and snatches the vial off Harry. He drinks it as well before throwing it on the ground, where it smashes.
“Greyback! Anyone could stand on that,” Harry snaps, staring at him in irritation.
“That’s the least of your worries right now, little wolf.” Greyback grins wickedly as he begins to walk further into the forest.
Harry huffs in annoyance. He casts an invisible spell on their belongings before following the werewolf deeper into the lush trees. It’s quiet, too quiet, and it makes Harry’s fingers twitch for his wand, which he left behind. Even with his sensitive hearing, he hears no sorts of critters crawling around the forest floor, nor can he smell any.
“It’s a full moon, little wolf,” Greyback says from ahead of him, “they know it’s time to hide. This is the night when the predators come out to play.”
Harry raises an eyebrow even though he knows Greyback can’t see it, but he doesn’t say anything. When Greyback finally stops, they are in a naked patch of the forest. It’s a large clearing with a small lake. The water is crystal clear and the reflection of the sun’s last rays flickers across it. Fireflies flitter across the water, lighting dark patches of the lake up with dancing illuminations. It’s beautiful.
“Do you come here often?” Harry asks as he continues to stare at the lake. There is a rustle behind him and a grunt, and he turns. He gapes at Greyback, who is ridding himself of his clothes.
“Sometimes, yeah.” Greyback chuckles when he sees Harry looking. “You don’t expect to change in your clothes, do you?”
Harry had never thought about it, but now he does and he flushes. Damn it to hell and back. He glances down at his own body and sighs. He’s not ashamed, but he’s not exactly comfortable being naked in front of the criminal either. No matter what’s happened over the last near month, he was not going to let Greyback get to him. Greyback would never change, he was still that criminal who killed and changed children and adults alike.
Finally Harry swallows and stares back at the lake. The afternoon sun has nearly fallen and it’s not going to be long before the change sets in. He unwraps his scarf and takes off his jacket, folding both neatly and placing them on a patch of grass. His shirt is next, but as soon as it comes off, he’s shivering from the cool wind that dances through the clearing.
Warm arms surround his body and even though it’s Greyback, Harry sighs in relief at the sudden warmth.
“You’ll get used to it,” his raspy voice whispers into his ear.
Harry stares at Greyback’s hands as they ghost against his skin, travelling south until they are at the waistband of his trousers. They fiddle with the button before it pops and Harry’s trousers are loose around his hips. Greyback presses closer to Harry, his chest against Harry’s back, as his hands work on tugging the last remaining clothing down his body.
When Greyback’s breath hitches at Harry’s lack of underwear, Harry can’t help but smile in smugness. For once it was he who has surprised Greyback.
“Planning on something, little wolf?” Greyback’s tongue traces the shell of Harry’s ear.
Harry smirks at Greyback as he steps out of his trousers. “I’m still not going to show you my belly.”
“Mmm, I love challenges, little wolf.”
Greyback takes a step back from Harry and walks towards to the lake. His large thighs and his arse, his nice, very firm looking arse, tense as he walks. Harry follows his movements until Greyback stops near the lake and crouches.
“Get ready, little wolf,” Greyback says loudly enough so that Harry can hear him. “You’re about to go to hell and back.”
Harry stiffens as he glances at the rising moon. The sun is barely viewable and the last rays of light are barely there, the moon is already in the sky, but only now is the forest darkening.
Harry doesn’t know if Greyback is crouching to get ready for the change, but Harry mimics his posture. And then he feels it.
The pain feels like a thousand needles are digging into his skin. He screams and falls to the ground, grasping his arms and scratching at them, anything to stop the pain. He hears his bones crack, lengthen and bend and he chokes on his own saliva as he tries to push himself up, only to fall on the ground again in pain. His head feels like it’s about to explode and he’s being ripped in half, he’s sure of it.
Out of the corner of his watering eye, he can see Greyback. He’s standing, his back bent as he howls at the moon. He’s a wolf now.
And then Harry clenches his eyes closed again as he screams. He tries to curl himself up into a ball, but his own back bends as the pain returns. Hair sprouts out of his skin and his fingernails lengthen.
It feels like forever before the pain stops and Harry’s throat is raw. He twitches, but keeps his eyes clenched shut. Something wet rubs over his snout and when he does opens his eyes, he sees Greyback’s wolf form sitting beside him. His coloured vision is gone and he blinks fast a couple of times to see if it will come back. It doesn’t. Greyback nuzzles his snout again and makes a noise much like a whine.
Harry wants to lie there and never get up, but he doesn’t have control of his body any longer. He stands and nuzzles Greyback’s fur covered face. He wishes he can talk, he wishes he has some control over his body, but he doesn’t. I’m just along for the ride, Harry thinks to himself.
Greyback takes off towards the trees and Harry follows quickly. They run through the trunks like playing a game. There are many twists and turns and Harry isn’t sure what they are doing until his wolf form smells something. Prey, his mind tells him as his body moves quickly. Greyback is ahead of him, having smelt it before Harry. And they were off, chasing after whatever animal had enough courage to be roaming around the forest with two wolves hanging around.
Harry whines as he falls on his back, throwing his four legs into the air as he scratches his fur-covered body in the grass. He turns his head to see if Greyback is paying attention, but he’s lying several feet away, eyes closed in slumber.
Harry rolls onto his feet and lowers the top half on his body to the ground, his arse in the air and tail wagging, as he creeps forward. Greyback moves and Harry pauses, but when the alpha doesn’t wake, he moves forward again.
Harry lets out a growl before he pounces on top of Greyback and gnaws playfully on the other wolf’s ear. Greyback lifts his head and snarls before he raises a paw and slaps Harry with it, knocking him off. When Harry shakes his head and stares at Greyback, he notices the other wolf has barely opened one eye.
Harry growls again, but as he moves in for another attack, all Greyback has to do is raise a paw and Harry is tumbling backwards. He lands on the ground with a whine and stays there, staring at Greyback with a sulking look.
Greyback growls and looks up. Harry follows his gaze. The first ray of sunlight flitters across the forest floor and he mentally prepares himself for the pain that’s to come.
“That was fun,” Greyback chuckles as Harry opens the door to the apartment. Harry is dirty, his skin marred with grass and dirt, and he wants nothing more than to have a shower and pretend that it was all a dream. But the main thing is that they didn’t hurt anyone, didn’t kill anyone, and they did have fun.
“I thought it would be worse,” Harry says with a smile.
“It’s always better when you have company, little wolf.” Greyback wraps his hand around Harry’s arm and pulls him backwards.
Harry doesn’t want to fight the touch and so he turns and presses his hands on Greyback’s naked chest. Greyback refused to put his shirt on, claiming that it felt so much better after a full moon if he was naked. Of course, Harry argued with the idea and they came to the agreement that he would only leave his shirt off.
Greyback grins when Harry stares at him in surprise.
Harry doesn’t know what possesses him to do it, but he stands on his toes and leans forward to press his lips against Greyback’s.
Greyback is still for a moment, before his lips move against Harry’s. His hands cup Harry’s jaw and he deepens the kiss and leads Harry backwards.
Harry grips Greyback’s arms and gasps when the back of knees hits the couch. He falls back, with Greyback lowering himself on to top of him.
When Greyback breaks the kiss, he grins wickedly. “Is this you showing your alpha your belly, little wolf?”
Harry rolls his eyes. “Don’t push it, big alpha.”
Greyback growls in irritation at the ridiculous nickname and smashes his lips against Harry’s again. They move against each other, hands touching and lips feeling. The smell of arousal fills the air and it causes need to pulsate at Harry. Clothes are thrown around the room and skin slides against skin.
For the first time in his life, Harry feels like he’s never felt before. All of his senses are on full alert and he can hear and smell everything. He hears Greyback’s heartbeat quicken when Harry wraps his mouth around his cock and he can smell the sweat that trails down Greyback’s chest. He can hear Greyback’s breath hitch as he slides into Harry and he can smell the scent of his cum as he explodes inside of him.
It’s like a slow motion scene from a movie and Harry notices every movement and every noise. And for one small moment, he wants to forget who they both are. He enjoyed himself last night, but there are no promises that every night will be like that because Greyback is still a criminal and Harry is still an Auror.
He does kiss Greyback on the lips again though and smiles. That morning, he forgets who they are and just feels and it’s the best decision he has ever made. And as he closes his eyes to let sleep overtake him, he thinks about the future and wonders what will become of them.
When he wakes, he knows before he opens his eyes that Greyback is gone. His back is cold and the room is quiet. Greyback’s scent barely lingers. Harry sighs as he sits up and looks around the lounge. There is a piece of paper on the table and Harry doesn’t want to get up to look at it, but knows he must. He rises and picks it up, immediately recognising the handwriting.
Little Wolf,
What a pretty belly you have.
Harry pauses here to laugh. Arsehole.
As you can see, I’m long gone. I’ve taught you everything I can about being a werewolf and now it’s your turn to live up to your end of the bargain. I’m not going back to Azkaban. But don’t fret, little wolf, you just might see me around in the forest on the next full moon.
Don’t worry, I won’t kill anyone. I don’t want you coming after me in that sexy uniform with your useless partner. I might just rip it off you before I take you on the ground.
When you get to work next, I’ve left you a present. He’s alive, and still very annoying. You forgot to mention that guy that bit you never shuts up talking.
Until we see each other again,
Greyback.
Harry stares at it for a moment and then smiles. It wasn’t like he never expected Greyback to run. Somewhere in his head, he knew it was coming and he was waiting for it. This wasn’t the end, it was only the beginning and Harry was going to give him what he wanted — a chase. Not only will it be for appearances for the ministry, who he’d need to make up an excuse for, but for his inner wolf. He’d just found his alpha, he wasn’t going to let him go that easy.
The predator was about to become the prey.
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Date: 2012-07-14 02:59 am (UTC)