Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Every Wolf's Bane	By : blade-of-the-shadows Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Fenrir Views: 29234 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 10
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any characters from Harry Potter, all credit goes to Rowling and I do not make any profit from this fanfic

Chapter List
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“Harry, Harry, Harry.” Red eyes glowed with mirth and giddy insanity. “How could you fall so easily for my trap? I had so much more faith in you. But…you’re a Gryffindor for a reason, I suppose. Tell me, how did it feel when you saw your friends and…family killed by your own magic?”
A nearly inhuman snarl echoed throughout the small, dank room and chains rattled. Green eyes narrowed with anger, but if one looked closely, they would notice the pain glazing into an almost insane gleam. Not unlike the red ones belonging to the one and only Lord Voldemort. Harry glared up darkly at the pale man, staying silent if just to provoke to the Dark Lord. Voldemort tsked at him.
“Harry, I have lived much longer than you puny, worthless life—that will be ending soon, just wait—so do not believe your silly little games will work on me. I am a patient man; I can outwait you. And I will.” Voldemort leaned towards Harry, a horrid smile curling his thin, bloodless lips. “I want to see you break. I want to see the strong Savior of Wizard Britain break and crumble into helpless tears. I want to hear you scream. I want to see you claw your own skin with madness. And then…only then…will I gift myself with the one thing I have always wanted. Your death.”
With a cackling laugh, Lord Voldemort straightened and swept from the room. Only when the door slammed shut solidly and the click of the lock sliding in place ringed into the room did Harry slump forward.
His vision blurred with tears and his body ached with sadness. He could remember it vividly, watching his friends perish because of him. Had he only listened. Didn’t he learn from his fifth year? Obviously not, because had he learned—had he bared through those lessons with Snape—then his friends and surrogate family would be alive. There was only very little solace he could find, and that was with the knowledge that the Twins and Remus were still alive. Harry didn’t know if Fate was being cruel or kind to him. He would never see them again; he was due to sink into his own despair and only when he did so would he be mercifully killed.
How would Voldemort do it? Harry was sure the crazy bastard planned to torture him, but how? His cold laugh echoed in the dark room. Starvation and isolation wouldn’t work; he spent majority of his life like that. If anything, that would just make him more comfortable; something familiar within this horror. Hell, Harry was beginning to believe he deserved whatever Voldemort threw at him. He failed; his friends, his family, the world. Voldemort won. Harry was surrounded by enemies, no mercy found anywhere. No one would risk Voldemort’s wrath by spiriting him out of there. No, he would die and Voldemort would thrive and Britain would be under Voldemort’s thumb.
The door suddenly slammed open and Harry jerked into an upward position. He couldn’t see much as they broke his glasses, but he could make out a blurry shape stumbling towards him only to fall on the ground. Two dark blobs surrounded by the light from outside chuckled and slammed the door. Harry slowly looked back at the other blob, still on the floor. He could vaguely make out a slight rise and fall of the blob’s back, indicating that whoever it was, was at least breathing. The metallic stench of blood invaded his nose and he frowned.
“Hello? Are you okay over there?”
The blob shifted and Harry got the feeling of someone staring at him. “I’ll be fine.” The voice emitting from the blob was somehow smooth and gravelly at the same time. It made Harry shiver. “You, on the other hand, seem to be in shock. I can smell your blood.”
Harry grinned wryly. “And I can smell yours.”
A snort. “I’ll heal. I’m not human. You are.” The blob shifted closer to him. “Show me where you’re hurt. It’s not much, but I can at least close the wounds.”
Knowing that he was more than likely going to lose this argument, he held out his chained wrists, arms straining from holding up the heavily iron. “You can’t reach them; the wounds are under the chains.”
“Are the chains silver?”
“No.” Harry tilted his head to the side. Was this man a werewolf, or a vampire? He did say that he wasn’t human.
“Then I can reach.” The blob-man wriggled into a sitting position and grabbed Harry’s arms in both hands.
Werewolf then, Harry concluded. The man’s hands felt similar to Remus’; like the smooth texture of a dog’s paws, but softer. The werewolf’s hands completely incased Harry’s arms and lifted them up. Curious as to what the man was going to do, Harry watched as best as he could as his hands were pulled towards what he would assume was the man’s face. Then he jerked when his chain length ended and his arms jarred when the man accidentally kept pulling. The man released a growled curse and shifted forward.
Harry’s eyes widened and he released a gasp when he felt something wet and warm touch his inner wrist. The man’s tongue, he realized. Yes, he’d forgotten; werewolf’s saliva when they were not in their wolf form acted as a healing agent without the prior influx of the virus. The tongue carefully slid in between the small space of his wrist and the chains, gently lapping at the raw skin chafed by the metal. He stayed silent as the werewolf licked his wounds, though his cheeks were burning hot.
When he was done, the werewolf released Harry’s wrist and sat back. “Are you wounded anywhere else?”
Around his ankles, yes, were his skin was also chafed, but he did not want the werewolf’s tongue on his skin again. Not with the strange reactions he was having. So he shook his head with a quiet ‘no’, holding his hands to his chest. He knew that the werewolf knew he was lying, but he didn’t care. So long as the werewolf didn’t press the issue. Which he didn’t.
With a grunt, the werewolf flopped back down on the hard ground. “So, you’re the infamous Harry Potter, eh?”
Harry stiffened. “Yeah, what’s it to you?”
“Nothin’. I just don’t see what the hell Voldemort’s problem is. I mean, I can practically smell your mum’s titty milk on you. Just what the hell would a little pup like you do to him?”
“Why don’t you go ask all the people who have such a strong belief in me because I sure as hell don’t know.”
The werewolf snorted. “How old are you anyway?”
“…I just turned seventeen.”
Another snort. “If you were a werewolf, then you’d only just be going through puberty. We werewolves mature slower than humans, which is why it’s better to bite a kid during the full moon when we get the urge. If one of us bit an adult, then they would more than likely die because of the conflicting hormones in their body.” The werewolf snarled. “I fucking hate bastards who bite adults just for the fun of it.”
Harry’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, when you get the urge?”
The werewolf shifted and Harry once again felt eyes on him. “The werewolf race is a dying one, all because of those damned wizards you’re supposed to be saving. We’re always on the run, so it’s hard on the pregnant wolves and even harder on our young. Death rates are higher than birth rates now and days. The ‘virus’ as you call it in our saliva is a survival mechanism only triggered when we’re endangered. During the full moon sometimes we get this urge, king of like this painful tingling in our teeth, that pretty much tells us we need to repopulate and the only way to do that is either with successful mating or by biting someone.”
“Wow…I—I never knew that…my uncle—he’s a werewolf, but I—.”
“Calm down, would you? It’s fine. Practically no wizard knows this. I’m only telling you this because…well, I actually don’t know.” A growl. “I’m acting real outta character right now. I have never been this…docile in my life. I fucking hate Voldemort. Wish I could just rip his throat out and call it a day but that bastard’s so heavily guarded…”
An abrupt laugh slipped from Harry’s throat. “He’s really paranoid, huh?”
“Yeah. If I had some way to contact my pack…at least Lance…then we could probably overpower the Death Eaters and get to old Voldie but this place has so many wards on it, it’s near impossible to get anything in or out.”
“Don’t werewolves in packs have that mind thingy?”
A humorless laugh. “Mind thingy…yeah, but it’s all about proximity.”
“Oh. Sucks, huh?”
“Yeah.” A brief silence filled the room. “So, uh…those friends of yours…you were really close, then?”
Harry scowled. “What do you care?”
The werewolf growled. “Hey, I might be a cold-blooded bastard, but I do value relationships, especially with those you consider closest to you, so don’t be a fucking cunt about my question.”
“Sorry.” Harry closed his eyes, not that it made a difference. “In truth…I don’t know. If you asked me five years ago it would’ve been a definite yes. But as of the late…they’ve been distant. Ron…he was always kind of jealous of me. I didn’t understand it; I mean, how could he not see that I hated all that attention? But I ignored it because he was my friend. I always accepted his apologies. And Hermione…she only just started dating Ron and so she just followed him in whatever he did. For someone so smart, she was really stupid. I guess she was in love but…I suppose I can’t understand that because I’ve never been in love myself. Ginny didn’t count; she was only after my money. Cho doesn’t count either because I was only her rebound after Cedric died. It wasn’t much of a relationship either; we kind of just kissed and left it at that.”
He jerked in surprise when the werewolf began to laugh. “Goddamn. You…your life seems to me to be very interesting, little one.”
“Yeah.” Harry couldn’t help but agree. “Real interesting.”
~oOo~
It burned so bad. Harry couldn’t breathe. Everything was on fire, it felt like. Every single nerve seemed as if someone had pulled them from his body, lit them on fire, and then placed them back in his body. But he bore through it. He didn’t scream; he wouldn’t give Voldemort that pleasure.
And suddenly the pain ended. Though his body relaxed in relief, random limbs would twitch uncontrollably. He could taste the blood where he bit straight through his lip in order to keep from screaming. When he tried to open his eyes, tears blurred his vision further than his already damaged eyesight. He could feel the blood caking his hands and fingers from where he dug his nails into his palms.
“Harry…” The condescending tone sounded like a banshee screeching in his ears. “Just scream. Just a little. Then all the pain will go away. That’s all I want to hear. One tiny little screech.”
Using the last of his energy, Harry glared up at the blurry figure of Voldemort. “Go fuck yourself, Tom.”
Then his mind was lost in dark oblivion, even as his body arched up in searing pain.
He dreamed of his friends. Back when they were still naïve, though not too naïve because they knew Voldemort was after Harry. Back when it was a lot easier to smile and laugh and Harry didn’t have to question his friends’ loyalty. When he actually had a legit crush on Ginny. The dream was so bittersweet. An elixir he could never drink. Ambrosia never to be eaten. At the moment, he wished the Crucio being cast on him would kill him, because then he could go back to those times. But at the same time he wanted to survive. He made a friend out of that werewolf, though he still didn’t know the man’s name, and he would feel bad if he left the werewolf to fend off Voldemort by himself. He wouldn’t tell Harry what Voldemort made him do, but every night he came back to their shared room, wounded and bloody. But every time, he told Harry he was fine and tended to the raven’s chafed skin, just as he did that first day. It was a tentative beginning to a friendship at most. Harry welcomed the werewolf’s snarky sarcasm, snapping back in a similar fashion to one back at Hogwarts, when he dealt out and took verbal lashings from Malfoy.
Ironically, Harry could view his less than stable relationship with the youngest Malfoy to probably being the normal, constant thing in his life. No matter what Harry did, Malfoy’s opinion on him never changed; the comments were no more or less barbed, nor were the glares and dirty tricks. The same could be said about Snape and even Voldemort.
It saddened Harry to know that majority of the people he could trust to never change around him were people who hated him, or in some cases had a strong dislike for him. No matter what, Voldemort would’ve still chased after him to kill him; Snape did keep on giving him hell, possibly more than usual if the case called for it, but still hell; Malfoy did still hex him in the ass whenever they passed in the halls; Malfoy Sr. still sneered at him nastily every time they met. Remind you, all of them were Slytherins. Harry’s so called friends were all Griffindors. Go figure.
A prodding on his shoulder jolted Harry from his unconscious state, and he peered up rather angrily at the perpetrator. If anything, his vision was worse than usual, but he could still make out the pale blonde hair and bright silver eyes of Draco Malfoy. Had he the energy, he would’ve sneered at the blonde and asked him why he was there, but he could barely keep his eyes open as is and any other type of movement was bound to be painful. It would seem that Malfoy knew this, because upon seeing Harry’s eyes open, the blonde began to speak.
“Listen up, Scarhead, as I do not have much time. I had to sneak to get here in the first place. I have a pain reliever potion here for you and another potion to ease some of your twitches. It is not much but it will help. But in order to take the potions you must eat something and it will be painful. Think you are up for it?”
Harry managed to let out a grunt, albeit a painful one, and fortunately Malfoy took that as a yes as he turned away and came back with a small roll of bread. He pulled apart a small piece and gently parted Harry’s lips, stuff the bread in between. Though it hurt insanely, Harry made the effort to chew and swallow the bread, parting his lips for another piece. He couldn’t tell if his werewolf friend was there or not, but he did hope the man was also fed, else it would make him feel bad. Draco continued to feed him the small pieces of bread until the roll was gone and then the blonde slowly fed him the potions by the spoonful. As always, the potions were disgusting to taste, making the process take longer as Harry took much effort to swallow the vile liquid.
Once he was done, though, he collapsed in a boneless heap, already feeling the darkness creep back on him. He looked up at Malfoy once more, trying to convey his question through his eyes alone. The teen looked back at him coolly.
“I guess you would like to know why I am doing this?” Malfoy sighed. “I never hated you, Harry. I never wished you dead, nor any of your friends. I admit that I was jealous and a bit angry that you had not accepted my friendship our first year, and instead of talking through it with you, I lashed out instead. But believe me when I say this, being murdered just because of some words written down on a parchment is not something that should happen to anyone. Least of all, you.” And with that, the blonde swept from the room, leaving a slightly gaping Harry to contemplate what he said.
The next time Harry woke, sunlight streamed from the small slit in the wall that he considered a window and his werewolf friend was sitting beside him. He shifted and felt familiar eyes on him.
“Fully awake this time, eh?”
Harry frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You were delirious with pain before. Your eyes were open but you weren’t looking at anything and you were speaking with this weird hissing noise, a lot like Voldemort does.”
“Oh. Well, I’m not in pain anymore, so I guess I am fully awake.”
A snort. “No shit.”
“How long was I out?”
The werewolf was silent, making Harry slightly nervous. Then he spoke. “A week.”
Harry’s eyes bulged. “A week? How the hell was I out for a week?”
“I don’t fucking know, Harry. What I do know is that they better move you out tonight because it’s the full moon and I’m not taking any chances and eating you on fucking accident.”
“What? They haven’t been feeding you?”
Another snort. “Course that would be what the fuck you focus on. No, not much. Definitely not enough to satisfy my wolf.”
“I don’t think you’ll eat me.”
“Why do you say that?”
Harry only hesitated for a brief second, noting his pseudo friend’s agitated state. More than likely that was how the werewolf was on a normal basis, the imprisonment being rather abnormal. “Because I think we’re too alike.”
The werewolf shifted. “The fuck is that supposed to mean, eh? We’re nothing alike.”
“Tell me about your past.” When Harry didn’t receive a verbal response, only instead feeling the prickly feeling of the werewolf glaring at him, he began to speak softly. “You probably know this already, but when I was only one, Voldemort came to my house with intentions of killing me but only managed to kill my parents. By sacrificing herself, my mother triggered some old magic and protected me, which is why the Killing Curse only left a scar instead of a dead body. Everyone in the Wizarding world knew this. But I didn’t. Until I turned eleven and went to Hogwarts, I spent my life believing that my mother was a whore and my father was a drunken idiot and that they died in a car crash. Until I began to attend primary school, I believed that my name was actually Freak. For eleven years I lived in a small cupboard under the stairs, only to leave to cook meals, clean, and got to school. I was fed the bare minimum to survive and endured multiple beatings. When I went to Hogwarts, I thought things would get better, and in a way they did.” He shrugged and snorted. “Except for the multiple attacks on my life every year.”
His werewolf friend was silent for a long time. So long, in fact, that Harry actually began to doze a bit. He knew it was rude, but his body was actually still healing and he couldn’t help the drowsiness overcoming him. He jerked awake, however, when the werewolf began to spoke, his rumbly timbre soothing and yet still captivating.
“Majority of born werewolves are born during the night. It’s myth’d that Nyx herself blesses werewolves born at night, which supposedly explains how we got our abilities. But there is a small percentage of wolves born during the day; wolves that are ridiculed and taunted by the others because of it. Sun-born wolves tend to be born weak and, if they survive infancy, grow weak, hence the teasing. No one likes Sun-born wolves; they were out-casted, ostracized. People tend to ignore when someone bullies a Sun-born, no matter how bad it gets. No one cares enough.”
Harry’s eyes lowered. “You’re a Sun-born wolf.”
“Yeah.” A growl entered the werewolf’s voice. “I’m a fucking Sun-born. But for me it was worse than the others. My ma died giving birth to me and my fucking shitty ass old man never forgave me for it. He hated my guts and being a Sun-born made it increasingly worse. He started drinking and…got violent. But when I only seemed to get stronger instead of weaker, like the other Sun-borns, he just got angrier. At some point, he got his little buddies and they would all beat me. Then one day I just…snapped and killed him. Just like that. He was the fucking Alpha of the pack, so by killing him I automatically became the next Alpha, but I couldn’t handle it. I ran away and became a loner, which for an Alpha could either kill them or make them go insane. I fortunately found my pack before then but…the damage is pretty much done…”
“You’re strong for that, you know.” Harry began quietly. “Not many people could do that.”
“You did and you’re human so shut the fuck up.” The werewolf snorted. “You’ve been through more shit than someone your age should have. Now quit with this sentimental shit, it’s literally making me sick to my stomach.” He began to grumble under his breath.
Harry laughed softly. “Okay, Mr. Grumpy pants.”
A loud growl ripped throughout the room. “Don’t. Ever. Call. Me. That. Again.” The sound of shifting. “Don’t act like we’re friends or something, because we’re not. I’m just waiting until they let me outta here so that I can get back to my pack. I suggest you try to survive, pup.”
“Yeah thanks.” Harry said dryly, a lot more subdued than before. He was actually beginning to consider the werewolf his friend, but should’ve known better. Not everyone was an easily trusting Gryffindor like he was.
He heard a sigh but ignored it, choosing instead to carefully roll over on his side. The drowsiness still lingered and his muscles twitched occasionally, so Harry wanted to sleep as much as possible in order to get better. He knew that being under a Crucio as long as he was meant that the twitching would never go away, but he hoped that he could possibly reduce it by using his muscles as little as possible, allowing them to heal and regenerate. An uncomfortable silence filled the room, full of awkward tension, and Harry heaved a huge sigh before he fell asleep.
It was many hours later when he woke again, but this time it was not as peaceful. He jerked awake with his heart racing and his muscles tensed and vibrating with adrenalin. For a second he was confused, believing he was still on the run from Voldemort, but when he felt the cold ground searing into his skin, he was shocked into remembering exactly where he was. Slowly he sat up and looked around. He couldn’t see much already, only made worse because it was nighttime and therefore dark, but he could usually make out the bulk of the werewolf sharing his cell.
Hearing a noise, Harry shifted forward and peered into the darkness ahead. A low growl reverberated towards him and then a loud crack had him jumping back in surprise. More cracks soon followed, along with grunts and the occasional hiss of pain. Harry was confused as to what was going on, until his eyes landed on the shaft of pale blue light entering from the slit in the wall and his eyes widened. His thoughts went back to the conversation he had with the werewolf earlier. It was the night of the full moon. Harry swallowed, backing away to the farthest wall and watching with wide eyes as the cracking noises finally ended.
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Every Wolf's Bane