Author: Alexa Deimos
Pairing: Harry/ Fenrir Greyback
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All belong to J.K. Rowling and various punlishers and such.
Chapter Two
Five significant realisations came to Harry as he managed to pry open his sticky eyes, one of which was the fact that he could, despite not wearing his glasses, see the roof of the now-bright cave very clearly. Secondly, his now being a werewolf was accompanied by a feeling of emptiness which made him think that the news hadn’t sunk in properly yet. Thirdly, Harry was in a lot of pain, with bruises adorning his arms and legs and soreness in his lower regions; next, both he and the large, warm man draped over him were equally naked; finally, Harry knew that, fixed between Malfoy Manor, stray werewolves, Death Eaters and Greyback, he had little means of escape.
He was also aware that, had he the means, he wouldn’t be able to handle lycanthropy on top of his other problems single-handedly. He had to remain Greyback’s prisoner, at the very least until he could learn enough to attempt to escape. Meanwhile, although Greyback left much to be desired as a companion, he was a good, if vicious, form of protection against the Death Eaters.
The werewolf currently lay with an arm flung over Harry’s chest and his nose in Harry’s hair, with one muscled thigh wedged in between the two of Harry’s. He was in a deep slumber, assumably thanks to the painful transformation. Harry shuddered at the thought of his first full moon, and the torment that would accompany it. Somehow he had to get Wolfsbane. He realised then that the Death Eaters would be looking for him with a new vigour now that Greyback’s pack were weakened and likely hiding.
He also acknowledged that Greyback really needed to wash. He stank of blood and sweat and his matted greasy greying hair fell in Harry’s face.
Harry felt weak and extremely tired. He had no idea what time it was. Greyback shifted in his sleep, and a moment later dozily raised his head. He stared down at Harry, tired amber eyes narrowed, catching his gaze. A slow grin formed on his face, accompanied by abnormally sharp teeth. This was the last Harry saw before he shifted uncomfortably and the pain surged, pulling him into darkness.
Harry awoke to discover that he had been moved. He lay outside on a bed of dry leaves. Despite the frostiness of October the sun was out, glaring upon him in rays through the trees and making the remaining leaves glow gold and orange.
Moving anytime soon was not on Harry’s list of intentions, so he remained where he was and looked around. Greyback was nowhere to be seen. Harry then concentrated on his improved senses. He could pick up the smallest, most distant sounds; a squirrel cracking a nut open with its teeth a few hundred yards away; the startled dart of a rabbit down into its burrow at the rustle of trees; the light tread of a deer not far from the lake. Harry could see none of these things, and the fact that he could distinguish each of them was a thrill. Being able to see, and not just see through normal human vision like he could beforehand with his glasses, but perceive thousands of vivid colours and shades of blues, greens, reds – so much colour and beauty - was not something Harry could have ever even imagined as a human.
Reluctantly he began to realise what Greyback meant when he had heard him say that lycanthropy was a gift, not a curse. But the problems that accompanied the ‘gift’ made Harry still inclined to believe it was the latter.
Greyback chose that time to appear. He appeared to have been running; he came over to Harry with bright eyes and a wary grin. “Fancy meeting you here,” he said with his gruff, bark-like voice.
Harry didn’t know what to say. What does one possibly say to a werewolf who, the night before, raped and infected one? Instead he chose to stare blankly up at the man, resenting his tiredness and weakness and the pain.
Greyback knelt down beside him. He brushed Harry’s hair out of his eyes with what Harry considered a claw rather than a nail. Harry blinked at the movement.
“We have to move,” the werewolf said, serious. He took hold of Harry firmly under the arms and quickly lifted him. Harry let out a gasp of pain at being forced to stand up, but it was too much and he collapsed to his knees, staring at the ground.
Greyback said irritably, “Get up, boy. What’s wrong with you? The Death Eaters are on their way.”
“I – I can’t,” Harry said, gripping his knees.
“Why?” Greyback demanded, coming down so that he was eye-level with Harry.
“It hurts,” Harry said weakly. He began to see black spots. This was worst than being near Voldemort. Harry was beginning to feel very hot. Besides, Greyback might be comfortable in his own nudity but Harry wasn’t planning on running around naked.
“You have a fever,” Greyback growled. “That’s all. You weren’t bitten.”
Harry looked up at him in shock. “But – I’m a werewolf,” he said, confused.
Greyback stared at him for a moment and then let out a bark of laughter. “You don’t become a wolf just by enduring my company, Pup. Surely you learnt something from Lupin?”
Harry understood then. Greyback, on seeing Harry was not bleeding and had not been bitten, decided that Harry had not been infected.
Harry shook his head. “You raped me,” he whispered. The man’s eyes widened.
“Did I now,” he said quietly. He then grinned. “Well, isn’t that just lovely. You are a wolf then. My wolf.”
Harry gave him a disgusted look. “I can’t move,” he snapped, some of his usual fervour returning to him.
“You don’t have much choice, unless you truly desire death.”
Harry snapped, “Leave me here, then. I’d rather be with the Death Eaters than with you.”
Greyback grew angry. “Don’t be stupid, boy. They’d take you to the Dark Lord and you’d be killed in an instant.”
“His name is Voldemort,” Harry muttered.
“Potter, I’m tired. I can’t carry you far,” Greyback admitted.
Harry looked at him incredulously. “I don’t want you to carry me. Hide me if you so desperately want to get away, because I can’t come with you.”
“I have to meet my pack,” Greyback said.
“Then meet them,” Harry said. “I sure as hell don’t want to.”
He let out a surprised cry when Greyback grabbed hold of his arm and dragged him up again. “Puppy, you go too far. Despite submitting to me under the full moon.” He pulled Harry against him, so that Harry’s nose bumped against his chest. “You had better learn some respect soon, or I may get rather annoyed and give you a bite.”
Harry shuddered. He wriggled, feeling claustrophobic. “Get off,” he demanded. He turned his head and bit the hand on his shoulder.
Greyback growled. He put his full weight on Harry, who collapsed, sending a flock of dry brown leaves flying. He managed to shift so that he wasn’t lying awkwardly on his arm, and coughed at the dirt that got into his throat. Breathing heavily, Harry became very still, wondering what Greyback was waiting for. He turned his head to the side so that he didn’t have leaves and twigs poking in his eyes, which he closed tiredly.
“I need to go back to Malfoy Manor,” Harry said weakly, wishing dearly that he could sleep.
“Why?” Greyback demanded. He moved off Harry to sit beside him, looking alert and staring in the direction he had run from.
“I can’t stay with you,” Harry said, sounding almost hysterical. He was too tired to move. “I need clothes. I can’t run around nude like this. And food. You can’t expect me to eat things raw. I may be a werewolf now but I’m not going to suddenly have all your cannibalistic tendencies.” He said bitterly, “And your pack. What are they going to think? I’m the bloody Boy-Who-Lived. Don’t tell me they won’t have a problem with it, after being united with Voldemort. They’ll want to hand me over just so he’ll stop attacking.”
“No. You’re one of us now.”
Harry began to shake. He stifled a sob. He was in a lot of pain, and caught in between werewolves and Death Eaters. Greyback pushed him over so that he was lying on his back. Harry turned his head so he didn’t have to look at the naked man. Then Greyback lifted him.
“Put me down,” Harry moaned as the werewolf moved swiftly through the trees.
“Be quiet. They are already on our tail. We’ve stalled long enough.”
“Can’t you just hide me and go ahead,” Harry whispered weakly.
“No. They’ll track you.”
Harry stayed silent. Greyback was extremely strong, but as he had admitted, his transformation had made him weak and tired. After ten minutes of steady running he began to tire and slow down.
Harry struggled. “Put me down,” he said. “I’ll run.”
“You can’t,” Greyback said angrily.
“I can,” argued Harry. “Just stop.”
Greyback did, but probably not because Harry had said so. He slowed down and came to a halt by a large oak, which he almost gently dropped Harry by.
Licking his dry lips, Harry pushed himself up, wincing as he looked at the bruises adorning his arms and legs. His forehead felt prickly and hot; he pushed his hair out of the way and tried to clear his dry throat.
“How far is it?” he asked Greyback, who was examining him while he caught his breath.
“Another mile or so,” came the gruff reply. Greyback stood and took hold of Harry’s arm, beginning to move once again. They moved at a fairly fast pace and Harry managed to keep up for a while.
“I won’t last for long,” he gasped eventually, struggling to keep to Greyback’s pace.
“You have to,” Greyback growled. “You can rest when we get there. The pack means safety.” Suddenly he stopped, causing Harry to slam straight into his back. “Ow,” Harry muttered, and Greyback put a hand over his mouth. He was once again alert, head turning in multiple directions as he picked up distant sounds. Then Harry thought he could hear it. There were voices. But they weren’t coming from behind.
“Ahead,” Greyback growled.
“We’re trapped?” Harry said timidly, releasing himself from Greyback’s grip.
“I’m too weak to fight,” Greyback growled. “You chose a very inconvenient time to make your escape,” he accused, narrowing his eyes at Harry. “The Dark Lord’s followers will find it easier to deal with us when we are tired from the transformation.”
“Too true,” an unfamiliar voice called out, and then a masked Death Eater stepped through the trees.
No matter how hard Harry looked, he could find no indication that it was a Death Eater he knew. Greyback growled low. “Rabastan,” he snarled after a moment of obscene sniffing.
“Thank you, Potter,” the Rabastan said jeeringly. “You chose a very opportune time to run away. Right when this lot turned traitors.”
Harry frowned but chose to keep his mouth shut. His ears strained to hear the others; nonetheless he knew they were coming. A moment later, two other masked Death Eaters emerged, wands brandished.
“You found him,” one of them breathed.
“Yes,” Rabastan said. “Signal the Dark Lord.”
Before either of them could raise a wand, Greyback charged forward with a growl, throwing himself with inhuman strength at the Rabastan.
“Stun him!” one of the Death Eaters yelled, but Rabastan was already casting a quick ‘Stupefy!’ that, from what Harry could see, hit Greyback directly in the chest. The werewolf staggered a moment, unbalanced, and then launched himself at Rabastan. However, it was too late. The one on the right must have already muttered whatever it was that signalled Voldemort, for they were soon surrounded by several loud CRACKS. The Death Eaters had arrived.
Panicking, Harry tried to make a run for it, but a laughing Death Eater grabbed him and held a wand to the side of Harry’s head. Harry swore and grabbed the Death Eaters wrist, biting as viciously as possibly until the Death Eater released him with a furious shout.
Harry scrambled away, wand clenched in his fist as he ducked a spell and leapt behind a large tree, glad of the fuss behind him. Greyback was tearing at a Death Eater, still unrestrained and causing a panic. However, three Death Eaters gained on Harry, who became increasingly aware that he wouldn’t be able to outrun them. Suddenly there was a stream of distant roars and calls, and Harry was filled with hope for the first time since he left Malfoy Manor.
“The werewolves!” one of the Death Eaters yelled. From his place behind the large tree Harry could see two Death Eaters trying to surround him, the others forming a line facing the direction of Greyback’s pack. Greyback was now unconscious, but Harry knew he would gain consciousness soon.
One thing that Harry did notice was that Voldemort was nowhere in sight. Why had he not come when signalled? Perhaps he was waiting. Or punishing Narcissa. Harry didn’t have much of a problem with the latter.
“Just surrender, Potter,” one of the Death Eaters cornering him snapped. “It will make everyone’s lives a great deal easier.”
“All the more reason not to,” Harry snapped back. “Expelliarmus!”
The Death Eater blocked his spell easily, but Harry was a step ahead, pointing his wand towards the wilderness of dead bushes among the trees and casting “Incendio!” with enough force that a wild fire quickly grew.
One of the Death Eaters cursed, backing away from the fire while Harry ducked another disarming spell. “Put it out!” one of them was yelling.
Harry cast the same spell at the surrounding trees just as the first fire was put out. And then again, until the fires roared up and began to merge. The Death Eaters were panicking, and Harry, extremely lucky to still have his wand, moved fast enough that the spells being fired couldn’t hit him. But he was weak, and managed to cast a last ‘Adfero caligas!’ just as a swarm of supposed werewolves leapt shouting battle cries through the trees and onto the Death Eaters. Harry’s spell caused a large mist to spread around him, thanks to which he managed to flee without being noticed.
“Aguamenti!” The Death Eaters were screaming at the fire as Harry sped away from the trees as fast as his rapidly weakening legs could carry him.
Harry knew what he had to do next, considering his legs’ quick refusal to move. With a deep breath, mentally thanking Hermione for forcing him to learn this spell, he did the correct wave and, pointing his wand directly at his forehead, said, ‘vocumnavitas!’
A burst of short-living energy filled him, which Harry knew would leave him feeling even weaker afterwards. But it was enough to keep him running for as long as possible back in the direction of the likely abandoned Manor. He would have to force Draco into helping him again.
With Greyback’s help the day before, Harry had travelled a good few miles from the Malfoy abode, but his confidence remained despite the long distance that his weak legs would have to carry him.
At length he skidded once more out onto the bank of the large lake, now feeling unnerved from the silence. Listening intently for a moment, Harry reassured himself that there were no Death Eaters followed him, before he plunged his tired body into the freezing lake.
Gasping at the cold, Harry swiftly rubbed away the dirt from his body and matted hair, and moved shivering out of the water and onto the muddy bank. He couldn’t wait to get some clothes once more. However, thoughts of clothes simply made him think of how far he had to go, and the coldness and tiredness caused Harry to feel somewhat less than alive as he nakedly trudged on.
The enormous Manor finally came into view and he could almost have wept for joy had he not already been cold enough as it was. Breaking into a run, he leapt over the small stream that separated the forest from the Malfoy grounds, then sped along a muddy track in the long grass and approached the large stone wall where he slipped through a tall austere gate into the gardens. Passing monotonous bushes and stone statues and benches, and a large flowing fountain in the shape of a snarling grindylow, Harry exceeded another gate and ran down the cobbled path that would take him near the greenhouses. Once he was close enough to the building to make his plan work, he crouched down next the large glass greenhouse and tentatively called, ‘Dobby!’
A moment passed that made Harry think his plan had not worked. Dobby often came when Harry called him, but perhaps the Malfoy wards had been adjusted to keep him out. But then a soft Pop erased those thoughts.
“Dobby!” Harry exclaimed, relieved.
“Harry Potter sir!” the elf cried excitedly, tugging at his dirty cloth. Then he suddenly looked around and his eyes widened as it dawned on him where they were.
“What is Harry Potter doing?! If Master finds out-”
“Dobby,” Harry interrupted. “I need your help. Please don’t ask questions yet. All I can say right now is that I’ve escaped and there are Death Eaters after me in the forest. I need clothes and food, and I need to get a message to Remus Lupin. Can you help me?”
Eyes wide, Dobby suddenly stood straight and said, “Of course, Harry Potter sir! Harry Potter is the same size as Master Draco who has many, many clothes and won’t notice if they is missing, and Dobby knows the kitchens like the back of his hands.”
Harry breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Dobby,” he said appreciatively.
“What is Harry Potter wanting to say to Remus Lupin?” Dobby said.
Harry hesitated. “Tell him … Tell him I’m trapped on Malfoy’s grounds, and I have a new problem. Tell him that I have to stay with Fenrir Greyback, and that the werewolves are no longer on Voldemort’s side. And…” he paused, acknowledging Dobby’s horror-stricken expression. “Ask him if he can somehow get the Wolfsbane potion to me,” he whispered finally, staring down at his wand.
“Of – of course,” Dobby said tearfully. “Harry Potter is a werewolf?”
“Yes, Dobby,” Harry muttered. “I have to go back and find Greyback’s pack soon. There’s nothing else I can do, and I’m not sure what Voldemort’s doing.”
“Dobby knows Harry Potter is brave and clever and will survive,” Dobby said, voice suddenly firm. “Dobby will go and find him clothes and food now, and then he will find Remus Lupin. Professor Albus Dumbledore will know where to find him.”
Harry jerked his head up. “Dumbledore?” he said, startled.
Dobby’s features softened. “Headmaster Dumbledore’s portrait is in his office. Professor McGonagall often talks to him. She will be Headmistress now, when Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts for his seventh year.”
Harry frowned. He wasn’t too sure there would be a seventh year for him to be had. He shook his head, disregarding that thought.
“Thank you, Dobby,” he said, grateful.
“Anything for Harry Potter sir!” the elf said, and disappeared with a Pop.
Wondering how long it would take Dobby to sneak through Draco’s rooms, Harry crawled in between the bushes that surrounded the greenhouse and curled up, shivering. His bruises had now turned a yellowy-green colour. Harry prodded one and winced, finding that the pain hadn’t lessened with the colour. Cautiously he attempted to wipe the dirt and grit from his body, mainly on his calves and feet. And then he waited.
Dobby returned about ten minutes later with a large bundle. “Harry Potter sir,” he said as Harry stood up quickly. “First put on these clothes.” Initially he handed Harry some black underwear and socks, then dark denims and a deep green silk shirt. “Rich prat,” Harry muttered, slipping them on and shivering with the feel of silk against his body. He wondered at Draco’s choice of muggle clothes. Then Dobby passed him an expensive azure cloak with silver vine patterns bordering the edges. Harry released a breath of admiration as he swung it around his shoulders. It was nice to wear good clothes that fit, for once. He then slipped on the dark shoes that Dobby handed him.
“What’s this?” he said. Dobby had presented him with some kind of dark green leather belt which had a very thin scabbard.
“It is a wand holder, Harry Potter, meant to be worn around the waist,” Dobby explained. Harry slipped it around his waist and sheathed his wand, reassured.
“Lastly,” Dobby said, and handed Harry a small plain black box, the size of Harry’s palm. It was the shape of a tiny trunk with no key lock. Harry looked at Dobby quizzically. “Tap it with your wand,” Dobby said. Harry did and found that it expanded to a small sort of trunk. “When you is hungry, open the box and say what food you is wanting. Dobby got the box from Master Draco, but now it’s connected to Dobby’s friends at Hogwarts. We will know when you is wanting something.” At Harry’s amazed look, Dobby beamed and said, “Try it, Harry Potter sir.”
Harry opened the box to find it empty inside. Timidly, he said, “Chocolate.”
A moment later the box was filled to the brim with every kind of chocolate imaginable, Wizarding and Muggle alike, with chocolate frogs bouncing on top. “Wow,” Harry said as he caught one, shoving it in his mouth and realising how hungry he was.
Dobby beamed at him. “When Harry Potter is finished, he must just say so and the food will clear.”
A moment later Harry took from the box a chicken sandwich, a bowl of salad, a pot of chocolate ice cream and a spoon and fork. He then shut the box, shrank it, and slipped it into his pocket as he quickly ate his meal. Dobby watched him happily.
When Harry was finished, he gave a sigh of relief. He smiled at Dobby. “Thank you so much. I don’t know what I would do without that.”
“Dobby is always willing to help Harry Potter sir, whenever he needs. Is Harry Potter wanting anything else before Dobby leaves?”
Harry shook his head and adjusted his cloak. He was much warmer now, and realised the cloak had warming spells attached to it. “No, that’s all. Just try to get my message to Remus.”
“Goodbye, Harry Potter sir. Dobby will find Harry Potter when he has contacted Remus Lupin.”
“Thanks, Dobby. Good bye.”
Another Pop and Harry was alone again. This time, however, he was clothed and warm with a full stomach, albeit weak from the effects of his earlier spell. However, the food had revived some of Harry’s energy and all he needed now was some kind of sign that it was safe to search for Greyback. Yet, when no ideas came to him, Harry cast a disillusionment charm over himself, shuddering at the feeling of an egg being cracked over his head, and followed the familiar path through the gardens that would take him back into the forest.
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On to Chapters: Three
