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What Are You Worth?	By : kati Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Fenrir Views: 109055 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 17
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 15

Harry ran to one of his favourite places in the palace: the jasmine courtyard. It was the most beautiful at night when it was quiet and tranquil, but even during the day it held a certain peacefulness that was soothing.

He drew many looks as he raced through the halls, but eventually he had to slow as he was unfit. He gasped for breath, face flushed and his head a little light as he stumbled through one of the many arches into the lovely courtyard.

The sun was shining fiercely into the square; it was noon and there were no shadows.

It was, luckily, a time of day when submissives could bathe, so he was not evicted from the exclusive area when he nervously lowered himself onto the ground, his back resting against a pillar. The ground was dry and hot, slightly dusty under his trailing fingers. He rubbed the tip of his finger in soothing circles over the rough surface until it buzzed pleasantly with a strange numbness. He took deep breaths in order to slow his racing heart and tried desperately not to think on what Paul had said. However, it was in the forefront of his mind and he could not expel it.

How could he have said that? He must have been able to see how happy he was now that he had found his mate! Why would he tell such lies? Why would he want to make him so unhappy? Couldn't he just be glad for him? Did his brother hate him so deeply?

He frowned, sadness seeping insidiously into his heart once more. It reclaimed its throne smugly, knowing that its host would never be able to ward against it for long.

"Harry?"

Harry jumped at the voice and the sudden darkness as a huge shape loomed before him, blocking out the sun. He recognised his Alpha's voice though, and did not panic. He began to attempt a smile but Fenrir exclaimed, quite unnecessarily in Harry's opinion, "Harry!"

He crouched down beside him, and for the first time Harry noted the squeals, mostly giggly, of the men and women who had been bathing as they swiftly exited the area with cloth towels hastily snatched to their wet bodies. Soon they were alone, only the eyes of protective, or possessive, dominants lingering as they hesitated between anger and fright at Fenrir's presence.

One caught Harry's eye as he glanced over his mate's bulky shoulder and he looked away, embarrassed at having caused such a scene. Fenrir noticed and swiftly jerked around, spotted the remaining werewolves, and snarled fiercely. They dispersed like smoke caught in a gale.

"Harry, what have you done?"

His eyes grew wide in despair. He glanced fearfully up at his Alpha. What had he done? Would he be punished? Or, worse, would his Alpha no longer treat him so well or so sweetly as he had done up until now? That, Harry was certain, would be the worst fate of all. He needed his Alpha's acceptance, his affection, his care. He had never been happier than he had been these past weeks.

Harry stared as his hand, the one rubbing the ground, was plucked carefully from the air with a viper's swiftness and accuracy. The palm was cradled gently, almost reverently Harry dared to venture, against his Alpha's stubbly cheek. He let the curiously numb palm curl, at ease. He knew from his Alpha's gesture that he was in no trouble. James would have perhaps tried to trick him into a false sense of security, only to yank the rug right from under his feet, but Harry thought that perhaps he knew his Alpha better than that. He was a straightforward man, one who had little patience for games and foolery. Harry had seen that Lucius was the one who guided his Alpha in these matters.

He allowed himself to relax a little, swiping away notions of punishment like cobwebs.

"You are okay?"

Fenrir upturned his previously shaded, hanging face. Harry was shocked at the raw, tortured look shadowing his Alpha's eyes. His face was screwed up in disbelief and pain.

Harry quickly but carefully formulated the sentence he wanted to say, and his Alpha must have noticed what he was doing as he said nothing, although he seemed desperate to speak.

"What is wrong? Why are you... unhappy?"

Alpha Greyback choked a little. Harry could feel his brow knitting together in concern.

"Why am I...why am I unhappy? What sort of question is that? Do you think me heartless? Incapable of care, of... of love? Do you think me some beast? Have I treated you so badly?"

Harry struggled to follow the stream of incoherent words, but caught his meaning. He hastily reassured him, "Bad Alpha? Not bad Alpha. Good Alpha! Ummm.... I like you. You see? Harry likes Alpha. See?" He nodded earnestly, begging him to understand.

His Alpha's fierce gaze intensified, filling with affection. But still there was pain. Harry did not understand.

His Alpha carefully cupped his smaller, creamy hand in his own huge, rough, tanned ones. He kissed Harry's knuckles bravely and seemed to tremble.

But Harry's attention was held by the smears and streaks of red, red blood slathered grossly over his Alpha's cheek. A drop trickled in fits and bursts of speed down his neck, over his appealing collar bone, and into his rough brown tunic. Harry followed its progress in sick fascination as his mate shivered over his hand.

"You... you are hurt?"

His Alpha looked up sharply, and gave him a strange look.

"No, Harry. You are."

Harry frowned lightly. That couldn't be right. He glanced down at the hand Alpha Greyback held so tenderly and took in disinterestedly the ripped and shredded skin of his upper index finger. Oh.

He felt no pain, no adrenalin.

And one question he could not contain seemed to him to be more important, and needed to be voiced urgently.

"You are my mate? Some p-people... Some people say th-that you n-not my mate..."

His Alpha's brows drew together like old lovers reunited after a long estrangement. Harry giggled absent-mindedly.

His Alpha seemed offended. He looked like he might cry. But, no, Harry reasoned, that couldn't be right; Alpha Greyback would never cry.

Just as the light faded from his eyes and he was lost to unconsciousness, Harry heard a soft cry, like that of a small animal wounded.

"Oh, Harry..."

***

Fenrir insisted stubbornly that his mate remain firmly in his lap whilst he was being treated. And no, they really, really couldn't remove him to a bed.

He had a traitor in his midst. A traitor. He would burn them alive.

The doctors told him that Harry had been drugged. Drugged. Here, in Fenrir's own palace, in Harry's own home, right under his nose. After he had told Harry that he would always be safe with him, that he would never let anything happen to him. He wasn't entirely sure of how much Harry had gleaned from that conversation, but still. It was a promise, one that he meant.

When had it happened? For what purpose?

The doctors didn't know if they could do anything. They didn't know what he had been poisoned with, or all of Harry's symptoms. Someone had suggested that maybe he had caught leprosy. Fenrir had had that doctor punished.

Leprosy? Fenrir tried desperately to confront that possibility: he would have his lovely Harry, but never would he be able to bring his little one satisfaction, completion, the ultimate pleasure. It was... heartbreaking. He didn't have wit, and he was clumsy and awkward in his bulk, the very opposite of Harry's dancer-like grace. But, he had been certain that one thing that he could have truly impressed Harry with was his cock. It was large and he knew exactly how to use it. Perhaps in the past he hadn't cared to bring his partners pleasure, but that was a choice. He knew how. But, if Harry could feel nothing, not a gentle caress, a sweet kiss, a nip to his calf, a tongue on his balls, a cock sliding possessively in and out of his tight entrance, then where would they be? Fenrir needed to be able to touch Harry and to know that Harry was enjoying his touch. But... Wolf Mother above, why would she do something like that to his little Harry? It was impossible. So, of course, it was poison. It had to be, because the doctors' alternative was ridiculous. It was Not An Option.

They cleaned and stitched his little one's wounds. They wrapped them in clean, white cloth, thick and comforting. And then they waited for him to awaken.

Fenrir cursed and cursed. If they were in the human world, things would be so much simpler; they could take a blood sample, and they would "analyse" it, and then they would go to one of their experts, and their expert would know exactly what to give Harry to make him better again.

Instead. Instead they had to wait.

This was just one more reason why he had to open channels of trade between their races. He had to, not only for the benefit of the few rich who could buy anything they liked, but also for the benefit of the multitudes. In many ways they were the technological equals of the humans, but when it came to medicine, electricity, arms of war, sewage treatment and plumbing, they fell short. Fenrir didn't want their nuclear weapons, he didn't want their televisions or contrived, scamming industries; he wanted the goodness. He wanted his people to prosper and thrive.

He didn't want his lovely to die.

No. No no no. If he thought on that, then he would come undone. There was no point in upsetting himself, in making himself useless to Harry or the doctors. He needed to stay calm and focused.

Hours passed. Harry remained curled angelically in his arms, his nose nuzzling gently into his relaxed hands, leaning weightlessly against Fenrir's chest.

Fenrir had overcome his anxiousness outwardly, and ceaselessly stroked his mate's dark hair, his soft neck, ran his hand slowly up and down Harry's bumpy spine. He tried to ignore the part of him that was upset at his mate's thinness, brushing aside new worries with promises that he would feed him well, that eventually he would put on weight.

His mate's breathing was slightly laboured, his forehead beaded with cold sweat. Fenrir blotted it away with a cool cloth. Changed the bandages on his ruined finger. Stared obsessively down at his companion. Prayed.

That was how his Beta, Lucius, and another trusted, senior member of his inner pack, Nile, found them. They watched silently from the doorway of the fairly quiet Medical Wing.

After some time, each keeping their thoughts private, they approached their master warily, sympathy and concern clear in their eyes but unsure of his mood.

�Alpha?� Nile ventured respectfully.

He did not look up, but grunted absently, "Yes?"

"We, Nile and I, well... Well, Alpha, I think we just wanted to see how you were."

Their Alpha did not answer.

Nile snatched a wooden stool from another bed and one for Lucius too. They sat quietly and said nothing, lending silent support.

Eventually their Alpha spoke, unprompted, in his usual, gravelly-soft voice.

"I didn't think that this would ever happen to me. I know it's silly, we... we all have mates, somewhere. But, but somehow it just never really hit me what it would actually mean. Even when we sent out the messengers. I thought that it would just be another burden, you know? I thought they would just be another submissive. I didn't ever think that... that I would get Harry."

He paused for a long time, and neither of his subordinates spoke, knowing that he would only say what he meant to say, and nothing more.

"Isn't he lovely?" They were both shocked by the undiluted reverence in their master's voice.

"Lovely..."

He drew out the word, trying out each sound on his lips.

"I never really thought about what words meant before. But now, no words seem to be enough. So I... I have to choose really good words, really special words, to describe him, and not ever use them to describe anything else. Because if Harry is lovely, then nothing else can be lovely. Hmm? Ah, you probably don't understand."

He turned to face them, a deliriously earnest expression upon his fierce features. Lucius privately wondered how the submissive could look into that hawk-like face and be wooed by what he saw. It was not a romantic face, and he struggled to imagine it contorted into a kind expression, or one that would soothe a flighty submissive like his Alpha's mate. He loved his Alpha like a brother, but he did not expect ever to be regarded in the same way; it was part of his charm almost, his aloofness drew many to him. But for his mate, it seemed, he would be anything that he wanted him to be.

He looked upon the tiny creature curled up in the man's lap. He was pitifully thin, his limbs gangly still with the last remnants of adolescent-hood. True, he had a pretty enough face, his skin was clear and bright, his hair bouncy, shiny, dark, thick. But what did the boy possess, for he was but a boy yet, that drew out this feverish worry from Lucius' oldest friend? What made him care? It was clear to see the painful love shining in his Alpha's icy eyes.

"I barely know him..." Their master's voice was softer still. "I do not know how he thinks. I have shared so little experiences with him; I do not know if he would stand by me if things got tough. I know nothing of his past, his family or the way he was raised. I know nothing of his values, or what he expects from our relationship. But despite all that, I care so deeply about him. I know it sounds crazy. I know it does. But it doesn't feel crazy. I don't know what the man I love is like, but there it is. I love him. I suppose that that is just what being soul mates is all about."

He trailed off, and their unexpected insight into their Alpha's, and friend's, mind was ended. Never before had either of them heard him speak so candidly, or at such length.

They remained for a long time, until duty bade them depart. They left with firm grasps to his mighty shoulders and murmured hopes that their Lakta would be well soon. He didn't seem to notice.

***

After thirty-two hours, Fenrir's mate awoke.

Harry opened his eyes blearily to the misty sunlight drifting in through the high windows in the Medical Wing. He could smell disinfectant and vomit; his nose wrinkled in distaste and his stomach turned.

He groaned softly, the noise painfully loud in his ears, and clutched with a ticklish weakness in his hands at soft material. There was a loud gasp and he was lifted into the air jerkily, without warning. He gasped and his stomach protested once more. He was laid upon a narrow bed. He tried to focus his eyes, and could make out a dark shape that slowly defined itself.

"Harry? Harry? Speak to me!"

He coughed lethargically; his whole body arched off the body and shook with the action. He squinted in concentration and finally could identify the figure.

"Alpha Greyback? "Dónde estoy? Por qué me duele... todo...?"

He felt a flurry of hands gently feeling his face, his neck, patting his ribs. Finally two large hands rested against his cheeks comfortingly. A kiss was placed shakily upon his forehead.

"In English, little one."

"Qué?"

A tired laugh rumbled soothingly into his ears. What a nice laugh.

"Okay, okay. Go to sleep. I'll look after you. Sleep."

***

The doctor looked nervous. This wasn't good. If the doctor was nervous then the news couldn't be bloody good.

"What? Did you get the results back from his urine sample?"

The doctor, a senior one, coughed into her hand once.

"Well, we tested the sample with everything we have and one result came back positive..."

Fenrir's heart leapt. "So you know what it is? You can treat it if you know what it is, can't you?"

The doctor shuffled uncomfortably, "Yes, uh, we, ummm... that is to say, we tested the, uh, sample, with..."

The doctor mumbled something incoherently into her fist, looking away with a blush.

Fenrir's axiety reared its head once more. What could possibly inspire such a reaction in a professional?

"What?" he snapped.

"We, uh, tested the sample with everything we have, and, uh, the result that came back positive was, um, the one tested with, uh, Ch-Chinese artichoke tubers."

Silence reigned. The doctor shuffled nervously again. She coughed. "Um, we're starting treatment immediately. When he awakens, uh, give him these." She hesitantly pushed some sachets of powder across the little bedside table. "He, uh, should take them dissolved in water. Twice a day, until he feels better. Um, yes. Thank you, Alpha."

A choked grunt spat itself from his throat. "Wait. Have you... Have you..." he coughed roughly over his suspiciously cracking voice, "Have you checked...?"

Her eyes widened in understanding and sympathy.

"We haven't done a physical examination, but from the concentration of the drug in his urine we can make a timeline of sorts, and from this timeline we can safely say that the person who administered the drug would not have had a chance to be alone with him unless that person happened to be one of our Lakta's siblings, or... yourself."

She scuttled away.

Fenrir did not allow himself to be relived; that meant that there was still a possibility that he had been... And if you put that together with what he had mentioned about 'people' saying that they weren't mates...

Fenrir listened to the somewhat soothing sound of his heart thundering in his ears. He took deep breaths.

Who the fuck thought they were going to rape his Harry?

Nictam. Nictam. Fucking Nictam! No wonder his little one had been in such a bad way. Nictam was an illegal substance that reacted with the tubers to reveal its presence. It was worst rape drug the human scientists had managed to concoct. It was very clever: the victim would still have a normal perception of sensation, but all the brain's pathways that received the body's pain signals were completely blocked. They wouldn't feel a thing as they were attacked; they wouldn't scream. But its after-effects were the worst of all. It made the victim lose consciousness for days, sometimes up to a whole week, and they would feel sick, delirious, and would be in pain with headaches for weeks afterwards if the dose was high enough.

He cradled his slumbering mate against his tense body once more.

Who thought they could rape his lovely and get away with it?
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What Are You Worth?