Title: Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire
Author: Alexa Deimos
Pairing: Harry/Fenrir Greyback
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K Rowling and various Publishers. Obviously.
Chapter One
Harry leapt over the bewildered branches of a fallen tree to stagger desperately until he collapsed amidst a dry mound of golden leaves on the autumn forest floor.
A calm moment passed, in which ensued only the light twittering of birds and the odd hoot of an owl. Then Harry heaved himself up, panting, onto his feet, and turned to verify that he hadn’t been followed or seen from the Manor. Then, with a final deep breath, he forced himself to continue hurriedly down through the sloping trees.
At last, he had escaped. With Lucius’ influence tucked safely away in Azkaban, and Narcissa’s cold and silent disregard hidden away in one of the far, closed-off wings of Malfoy Manor, indifferent to her loitering son, Harry had finally convinced Draco to free him of his imprisonment.
And so, with his wand finally at hand, accompanied by a shrunken bag of cold chicken wings and bread, Harry had fled the manor and sped without a backward glance across fields and streams and forests, to where he now sat panting with his back to a tree trunk, as unaware of his whereabouts as he would have been had he suddenly been apparated to another country.
He tossed the chicken bone away and curled up, tired enough to drift off into a peaceful slumber. He was awoken by a gruff, surprised and somewhat amused voice.
“Well, well, well. Look who we have here: The Saviour of the wizarding world lost near Malfoy’s grounds. What do you have to say for yourself, Potter?”
Harry felt his jaw drop incredulously. Of all the places to meet a werewolf, this particular werewolf, it had to be in the middle of a bloody forest in Merlin-knew-where, the only nearby sanctuary being Malfoy Manor. And, predictably, the sun was beginning to descend.
He gulped and gripped his knees, which were pulled up to his chest with his cloak wrapped around him.
The man was stood there with a feral smirk. He was tall; he had to be at least six feet, and had narrowed amber eyes that watched Harry searchingly. His straggly greying hair hung about his shoulders, and the remains of his dirty clothes were in tatters. He looked in worse condition that Harry.
He began to approach and Harry scrambled to his feet. A second later they were only a foot or two apart.
“What do you want?” Harry asked waveringly, raising his chin. He was not going to be scared off by some werewolf with cannibalistic tendencies. Even if said werewolf was much bigger, taller and stronger looking than him, along with sharp teeth that were revealed in the man’s feral grin.
“No need to put on a brave front, cub. I could smell your fear miles away.”
Harry scowled at him, unnerved. He gripped his wand in his pocket, knowing that anything he cast would immediately alert Narcissa and in all likelihood bring hundreds of Death Eaters down on them.
Fenrir’s suspicious eyes landed on the place where Harry’s wand was.
“Don’t go casting spells, boy. Won’t do either of us any good.”
“What do you mean?” Harry said, disconcertedly aware, with a quick glance at the man’s large muscled thighs, that he had no chance of out-running him.
“Neither of us wants to be caught by the Dark Lord. I suggest you leave your stick alone.”
Harry frowned. “You’re allied with Voldemort,” he accused. “Your pack is.”
“Not anymore,” came the gruff reply. “Not that it’s any of your business.” He took a large step forward, so that they were standing inches apart. Harry’s breath hitched.
“He’s gathering forces with the sole intention of getting rid of me. I think that sort of makes it my business,” he snarled.
Greyback grinned. “Now why would anyone want to get rid of a lovely young pup like yourself?” He took a firm grip of Harry’s chin.
Harry scowled fiercely and bought his hands up to push the man away. Greyback merely laughed infuriatingly at his weak attempts.
“Come, pup, I’m tired of talking.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Greyback leered at him. And then suddenly, he was gone. Harry blinked, grip tightening on his wand. What was the man up to? He could feel cold fear settling in on him. Shakily, he turned and ran.
A minute hadn’t passed before he knew he was being chased. He ran as fast as he could, which with a Seeker’s agility was quite fast. At least, Harry thought so, until something suddenly rammed into his back and sent him flying, only to land on his face in the leaves and dirt.
Harry groaned. Greyback laughed amusedly. Harry attempted to sit up but strong hands pushed him down again. He struggled aimlessly for a minute until Greyback hissed his annoyance and turned Harry roughly over. He pushed Harry’s thighs apart and lay down on top of him, leaning up on his elbows above Harry’s face.
Harry’s eyes widened. His breath hitched. Truthfully, he was terrified, and hated to admit it. Even Voldemort had never frightened him this much. Heart thumping wildly, he took in the man’s darkening pupils and nasty smile.
“You’re terribly fun to play with, cub,” Greyback said, grabbing Harry’s flailing wrists with one hand and holding them above his head.
He lowered his face to Harry’s neck and stopped suddenly. Harry became very still, unsure of what the man was doing. Greyback then sniffed him. Harry shifted uncomfortably, and the man pushed his body down to make sure Harry couldn’t move an inch.
He then took a long sniff of Harry’s neck again. This was followed by a small lap of his tongue. Harry shuddered.
Greyback leant back to look with narrow eyes into Harry’s face. “Impossible,” he muttered.
“What?” Harry blurted, his curiosity getting the better of him. He was ignored. Greyback was sniffing and licking at his neck again. The man groaned.
“What are you doing?” Harry demanded, panicking. He received a long wet lap of rough tongue across his cheek as an answer.
Harry scowled. “Stop that!” But Greyback was groaning again. And then he thrust forwards, and Harry could feel it: a large, hard thing was digging into his hip, and he wasn’t so naïve as to not realize that the man was tremendously aroused.
Harry didn’t know if he was more disgusted, freaked out or petrified. Greyback seemed to enjoy smelling Harry’s fear, though; he continued to lick and inhale and coat Harry in saliva. Harry soon took up his struggle again, not liking the ministrations one bit.
But Greyback only gave a delighted groan at Harry’s wiggling, and thrust once more. A second later he grabbed Harry’s hips and turned him over so that he was lying with his face in the dirt.
In vain Harry struggled, but in the end he collapsed, much to Greyback’s enjoyment. The man grabbed Harry’s thighs and pulled them apart. Harry began to shake uncontrollably. He had an idea of what the heavy man was going to do. It bought up a swirl of fear in his guts.
Suddenly the man stopped. Harry felt him sit up, and managed to wiggle free of the man’s loosened grip.
“Quiet, puppy,” Greyback rumbled. “They’re coming.”
Harry staggered backwards, falling on his behind with a wince. “Who’s coming?” he demanded fearfully, hoping Narcissa hadn’t already alerted Voldemort. It had taken long enough to escape, damnit.
Greyback leapt to his feet and had Harry up and over his shoulder in seconds.
“What are you doing?” Harry exclaimed. “Put me down. Argh!”
They were moving through the forest, in the direction opposite the Manor, faster than Harry had ever been able to move. He didn’t bother struggling now, tired and weak and hoping he would slip from the man’s strong grip at some point.
A minute later he was dropped onto the floor. Harry groaned and lay there, gazing tiredly up at the trees. He was trapped. He should have known he wouldn’t be able to escape. Greyback was bound to hand him over to the Death Eaters in exchange for something.
What the werewolf would want, Harry couldn’t guess.
Seconds passed before he was hauled up again. Harry closed his eyes. He could feel Greyback pushing his way through branches and bushes, twigs snapping beneath his feet. He then stopped, and Harry opened his eyes.
They were by a cave. A small dark cave, with large wild bushes concealing the entrance, but it was a cave nevertheless. Greyback pushed through and knelt down, putting Harry gently on the stone floor and sitting beside him. The cave was low enough that even Harry wouldn’t be able to stand up straight. It wasn’t deep, however; it only went about two metres back.
Harry sighed and wrapped his arms around his legs. Apparently Greyback wanted to be as far away from the Death Eaters as he did. However, the cold was beginning to seep in through his cloak and pushed thoughts of Death Eaters out of his mind. Harry shivered. He was jolted by surprise when he was grabbed firmly and put in the werewolf’s lap.
Greyback hushed him when he struggled and made him sit still. Then Harry heard it; the crackling steps of people walking carelessly through crispy leaves, accompanied by noisy arguing voices. He became motionless and gripped the arm that wound around his waist.
“Merlin, we’ll never catch him at this rate,” one of the trekkers complained. “For all we know, he’s been eaten by one of those creatures.” The last word was spat venomously; Harry suspected they were talking of werewolves.
“Shut up,” another snapped. “We have to keep looking. I’ve never seen the Dark Lord so angry. Potter is going to pay for this.”
Harry shivered. This time it wasn’t from the cold.
“How long have we been trudging through this stupid forest?”
“About twenty minutes. Now shut up and keep looking. He has to be around here somewhere.”
“Fine,” the other muttered. They were getting nearer the cave. “How many others are looking?”
“Hundreds. The Dark Lord is obsessed with getting the boy back. Merlin, if I find him…”
“You won’t touch him. Those were the orders. To stun him, signal the Lord and take him back to the Manor.”
“And what if Greyback has him? Or one of his insane followers? What will we do then?”
“We’ll have to stun the traitors as well.”
They were passing the cave. Harry released a silent breath.
“I still don’t understand how he escaped.”
“Look, we’ll just have to…”
Harry blocked their voices out, his relief so great that he went completely limp against Greyback.
“Quiet, puppy,” the man said softly. “Wait a while.”
They waited. When it was clear the Death Eaters weren’t returning any time soon, Greyback let Harry crawl away from him to sit with his back against the cave wall.
Harry ignored the man’s observing amber eyes and stared stonily at the floor. He didn’t know what was better; being stuck in the Manor for months or being trapped with Fenrir Greyback in a cold cave with Death Eaters prowling on the loose.
This time when Harry fled, it was with the sole intention of getting as far away from both the Manor and the cave as possible. For five minutes he ran through the forest, the setting sun leaving the trees dark and shadowy. It was with a surprised intake of breath that he suddenly skidded out from the trees onto a muddy bank of an enormous lake.
Startled, Harry stopped to stare, wide-eyed, at the dazzling sight. The lake was an engaging deep blue, and stretched far, its slippery banks lined with brown trees and behind it, in the far distance, sat a giant orange setting sun that left the sky with a tinge of pink and yellow.
He had little time to marvel at the view, for, with a startled yelp, he found himself pinned down on his back in the mud by a very aggravated looking Greyback.
“What did I tell you about staying still, Puppy?!”
Harry shivered and closed his eyes. He was extremely tired, having spent the last few nights whispering persuasively to Draco. He was cold and he knew he had no chance of absconding the man’s inhuman strength and speed.
“You worried me,” the man growled, turning Harry roughly onto his back and revealing far too-long incisors. “I thought you might have gotten caught by one of the bastards.”
Harry’s eyes snapped open, perplexed. “You were worried?” he said incredulously. “What, afraid they’d robbed you of your dinner?”
Greyback growled again, lying down on Harry so that they were in the same position as before.
“Don’t anger me. I go out to hunt some food for you and this is how you repay me.”
“I don’t understand want you want,” Harry complained, feeling defeatist all of a sudden.
“I want your submission, pup. Then I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”
“Submission?” Harry was confused. He wished the man, who he had now decided was moderately insane, would simply explain himself.
“Surely you learnt something from Lupin? I’m an alpha wolf, young Harry.” It was said mockingly, and Harry hated him all the more.
“How has that got anything to do with me?” he demanded. “Merlin, will you let me sit up? I won’t try to run or anything.”
Greyback smirked. “As if you would get anywhere if you did.” Nevertheless he remained where he was, apparently deriving pleasure from Harry squirming beneath him.
Harry scowled at him fiercely, his fear having lessened somewhat. It didn’t take a genius to guess that the man didn’t intend to kill him, and the chance to pass him over to the Death Eaters had gone. But he didn’t understand Greyback at all.
“Well?” Greyback said, and then let out an exasperated sound at Harry’s puzzled expression. “You must know the at least basic fundamentals of mating.”
Harry scowled. “I don’t understand what this has got to do with me. I’m pretty sure I’m not a wolf.”
Greyback sighed patiently; giving Harry what he must have thought was a consoling lick to his cheek.
“Stop that!” Harry exclaimed, and attempted to wipe the saliva off his cheek onto his shoulder.
Greyback grinned at him. “Anyway, you are not, unfortunately, a werewolf, which is something that can soon be rectified. But you are my mate. This means-”
“I know what it means. Wait. What? Your mate?”
Greyback appeared to be tiring of the conversation, because he returned to his licking, and ignored Harry’s loud protests.
“Look, stop, stop!”
Greyback stopped. “Yes?”
“Can we… resolve this somewhere else? Like the cave? Where it’s slightly warmer.”
Greyback raised an eyebrow. “So that you can try to flee again?”
“I wasn’t fleeing. I was uh… thirsty.”
“And so you sniffed your way to the nearest lake.”
“Yes. That’s exactly it. Look, -” he yelped when he was heaved over the amused man’s shoulder again.
“I can walk,” he insisted irritably.
“You’re too slow,” came the reply.
Harry came close to sulking. He was dumped on the floor when they reached the cage and sought out his abandoned bag of chicken wings.
“How long do you plan on keeping me here?” he demanded in between mouthfuls, attempting to ignore Greyback’s amused eyes.
The werewolf shrugged and leaned back against the wall, arms casually bent behind his head and legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles. “Until I can get the pack back together. No chance of an ambush until then.”
“An ambush?”
Greyback grunted in agreement.
“Why? On who?”
“You have a very curious nature.”
Harry scowled. “Just give me some answers. Why are you here? Why didn’t you hand me over to the Death Eaters?”
Greyback leered at him.
Harry scowled. “Fine.” He chewed thoughtfully for a moment. Apparently if he didn’t annoy the werewolf, he’d be safe from the Death Eaters for a while. Although he’d have to endure some of Greyback’s strange… behaviour. And perhaps during this supposed ambush he could make an escape. Harry wiped his mouth on his sleeve and looked up at Greyback with a smile.
“Want some?” he offered, holding out the half-eaten chicken wing.
Within seconds he was pinned on his back. Harry wouldn’t have minded so much if he didn’t still have a bit of chicken stuck in his throat, resulting in him having a small coughing fit. From centimetres above, Greyback eyed him with what appeared to be reluctant amusement.
“Thanks for that,” Harry gasped, recovering.
“You shouldn’t have offered yourself so willingly.”
“I wasn’-” a hand came over his mouth.
“Quiet, pup,” Greyback said roughly. They lay there for a moment in silence; Greyback as still as an alert hare, Harry beginning to shiver from the creeping cold.
It was a false alarm. Or so Harry decided as his captor suddenly released him and sat up.
“The dark is coming,” Greyback said.
“Naturally,” Harry muttered, and then stopped still. “When is the full moon?” he asked slowly.
Greyback turned to him with a feral grin. “Tonight,” he said.
Harry jerked backwards, staring at Greyback in horror. “What am I going to do?” he demanded, more to himself than the contemplating wolf. Harry thread his hands through his hair and squeezed his eyes shut. What was he going to do?
“There’s nothing you can do, Pup,” Greyback said, without a hint of sympathy.
Harry dug his fingers into his palms so hard they bled. He glared fiercely. “So, what? I simply sit here while you turn into a monster and bite me?”
Greyback narrowed his eyes. He didn’t move, continuing to silently watch Harry in his infuriating way.
“Well?” Harry snapped, verging on hysterical. And he had a right to be. He couldn’t become a werewolf. He just couldn’t. It would complicate things far too much; how could he get back in touch with his friends, round up and destroy Horcruxes and fight Death Eaters when he had to worry about taking Wolfsbane every month as well? Honestly, this wasn’t what bothered Harry. The fact that he would have to sit around and wait to be bitten dawned on him. He knew straight away that he had no chance of escape; running would probably harm himself more than if he sat and waited.
He looked up at Greyback, who was watching his mental struggle. “What are you thinking?” Harry demanded, deciding that the hated werewolf should be gloating and sneering, if not assaulting him again.
Greyback actually sighed. “Look, Potter. Whether I want it or not, tonight you will be bitten.”
Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Greyback continued.
“No, listen,” he demanded. “My pack is spread out all over this forest. You would be better off being bitten by me than one of them. And by running off now you will only get caught by Snakeman’s followers. Do you understand? Besides, now that I know you’re my mate I can’t let you be turned by one of my pack.”
Harry wrapped his hands around his legs and stared at the floor. They way he saw it, he was completely and utterly doomed. The cold seemed insignificant at this stage, and he didn’t notice at first when Greyback moved towards him.
Harry flinched when he was dragged back onto the man’s lap. He shivered when Greyback shoved his nose in Harry’s hair, inhaling. He gave Harry’s cheek what Harry supposed he thought was a comforting lick.
“What shall I do?” Harry repeated eventually.
“Don’t run, under any circumstance. As you are my mate I won’t kill you, but by running I might happen to hurt you more than necessary.”
“Great,” Harry muttered, turning and burying his face in the man’s chest. If this was the only form of comfort he could get before being turned into a werewolf, then so be it.
“Stay in the cave,” Greyback warned.
Harry shivered. It was getting dark, and Greyback had left the cave half an hour ago, even though the transformation wouldn’t take place for at least another hour. Harry moved as far back in the cave as possible, where it was low enough that he had to lie down and try to ignore the odd drip from the ceiling.
Waiting to be bitten was terrorizing, and Harry reflected afterwards that the waiting was worse than the entire incident itself. But for now, he lay there thinking of his friends, thinking of Remus. What would the man think of him? Oh, Harry was aware that Remus would support him all the way, but he would be so disappointed that his best friend’s son had become like him: an outcast. Harry would have to contact Remus at some point, somehow. If Greyback let him. Everything seemed to come down to Greyback. It was completely unlikely that he would simply let Harry go after this. Did this mean that Harry was now a part of Greyback’s pack? Even if for some miraculous reason he didn’t get bitten, he was still Greyback’s mate.
As these thoughts played in Harry’s mind, he soon perceived that it was almost completely dark. He raised a hand but could barely see it. That was when he heard it: a howl. It was nearby and getting closer. Another very distant howl answered it, and then another, until it seemed like Harry was completely surrounded by werewolves.
Harry couldn’t prevent himself from shaking. Despite Snape’s sneering acknowledgment of Harry’s Gryffindor bravery, Harry was unable to even think of having courage at this moment. His body seemed to freeze up; he stared directly above into nothing.
Another howl sounded, this time directly near the entrance to the cave. Harry slowed his breathing as much as possible. He forced his hand away from the pocket with his wand, knowing that even grabbing his wand could get him killed. He remained as he was when he heard the first click of claws on the cave floor.
A low grow resonated through the cave, and Harry swallowed, looking out of the corner of his eye to see two glowing amber eyes in the darkness. They were watching him.
The werewolf – Harry hoped it was Greyback and not one of the others - entered further, standing about a metre away from Harry, his hackles raised, looking ready to pounce. Harry fixed his gaze on the darkness above, hoping that his submissive position didn’t induce the werewolf to attack him. A moment passed in which the werewolf remained where he was, releasing another low growl, and then he came closer. Harry could see his enormous outline. The werewolf’s ears were drawn back, suspicious. It came forward, teeth bared, and stood with his salivating jaws inches above Harry’s neck, eyes glowing, emitting a low warning growl. Harry released a whimper, and it suddenly withdrew. Seeming to have decided that Harry was submissive enough, the werewolf began to sniff him. First his neck, then along his face and into his hair.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut when the werewolf began to lick his cheeks.
The werewolf licked his way down Harry’s neck and then growled when he found a barrier between his tongue and the rest of Harry’s body. Without harming Harry, the werewolf managed to rip Harry’s shirt with his teeth, revealing Harrys’ chest to the cold. Trying to move as little as possible, Harry manoeuvred his now-tattered shirt off and away from him, wanting to leave the werewolf pleased enough that it didn’t hurt Harry more than necessary. It’s rough tongue continued its way down along Harry’s torso. It gave one of Harry’s nipples a rough swipe and he yelped in surprise. A low growl was emitted when the werewolf became acquainted with Harry’s jeans, and Harry hurriedly undertook the task of kicking of his jeans while making as little movement as possible.
Harry bit his lip hard enough to release blood when Greyback’s tongue suddenly swiped across his cock. To Harry’s utter dismay the werewolf’s continued attention to his cock made it gradually harden. His right hand gripping his shirt, his left his hair, Harry looked up to see the werewolf move towards Harry’s nether regions, where it gave an uncertain lick, before theoretically diving in. Harry released a sob. This was not happening. He was not being licked by a werewolf, by Greyback, down there, and he was most certainly not enjoying it. This latter was true: Harry was not enjoying the experience, but his cock was. Despite the cold, it twitched when the werewolf nudged Harry’s thighs apart with his wet nose, giving Greyback more room. The werewolf then nudged Harry’s hip, ordering him to turn over. Harry shakily did so, pushing himself onto his hands and knees. Damp dirt and small stones embedded themselves in his knees and hands. He leant his head on his arm, his behind in the air, thinking that this had to be the most humiliating position ever.
And then the heavy creature was mounting him with a pleased growl, its forelegs sliding in behind Harry’s arms, its back legs either side of Harry’s. They seemed to fit together like a puzzle, and Harry pushed this thought out of his head and tried to think of Quidditch. He tried to imagine playing Quidditch in the Weasleys back garden, but his thoughts turned to wondering what they would think if they saw him now. Harry shuddered. And then the werewolf was entering him with a hard, leaking cock and Harry was in more pain than he had ever been in his life. He released a howl worthy of a wolf, and the werewolf howled with him, but for a different reason. Harry tried to think about anything except what was happening, but the pain was too much as the werewolf began to thrust. It probably saw this experience as mating. Harry could feel a trail of blood slide down his inner left thigh. He buried his face in his arms and couldn’t hold in the whimpers and gasps of pain. It seemed to go on forever; combined with the cold and the bruises adorning Harry’s arms and legs from the ground, Harry could only think that this was worse than being caught by the Death Eaters. He should have stayed at the Manor.
Finally it was over; the werewolf released a noisy triumphant howl and released himself into Harry. Harry sobbed, collapsing on the ground as the wolf clambered off him. He lay there shaking, and jerked when he felt a warm tongue lapping at his behind. Humiliated, even though Greyback wouldn’t remember in the morning, and in pain, Harry put his head in his folded arms, letting the werewolf clean the blood and semen away, and turning around when he received a nudge, not releasing a sound. The wolf licked his face, his neck, his cheeks, and sniffed his hair. Then Greyback turned and loped out of the cave, releasing a long, satisfied howl outside, and left, probably off to hunt.
Harry hadn't been bitten. He had been raped and infected instead. It was with this ultimate realisation that he fainted.
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