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What Are You Worth?	By : kati Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Fenrir Views: 109052 -:- 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
- 16
- 17
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
It's been a long time and a lot has changed in my life since I started posting "What Are You Worth?". I won't be too harsh on my old story despite its flaws, but I will be harsh on myself for leaving it so long to update. I basically took a massive haitus from fanfiction, even from reading it, but I'm back now. Lesson learned: I will never post a story before I have finished it again! Updates will be in stops and starts, I imagine, but honestly it wouldn't feel fair to leave this unfinished for those who have been so supportive and kind to me. I've read a lot of amazing fics since coming back to fanfiction and none of them include the irritable teenaged author's notes I was just flicking through in the story's previous chapters, so hopefully this will be the last you hear from me, the author, but certainly not from me, Harry and Fenrir! Thanks, everyone.
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Harry melted into the crowd as it broiled over, thousands of werewolves shocked and titillated by this outrageous turn of events turning to one another and gasping in pleasure, “No! How terrible for them all! What a shame! Oh dear!” He was a nobody, familiar to these people in name and not in body, so it was only a couple next to him who frowned his way - had that been the boy with the Alpha? Likely not, he didn’t look the type…

In himself, Harry felt nothing at all. His body coiled tight, aching with a pain his mind could not feel. He gazed nowhere in particular, perhaps only at the ground, at the air. He did not know. He became intensely aware of his heart coursing, his chest tightening, his jaw clenching. These were feelings he could examine, and he treasured them. He used them to gather the strength to gently turn from the altar and slip away, passing between the tightly packed werewolves as he could.

He had intended to make for the Palace as it was the only feature of this foreign landscape at all familiar to him. There were his brothers. There was Paul, dear beloved Paul, who had warned him, who would surely embrace him as he broke down in shame and disappointment. For elder brothers adored to forgive and shelter their shamefaced siblings when they had been proven right in the end. And certainly, Paul had had the right of it all in the end. Harry knew with his brothers’ arms around him he could shut everything out.

He held desperately to this imagined embrace, the only strength carrying him forward as he ducked and eased his way around the throngs of giddy wolves. One thought punctured his defences in a moment of clarity that hollowed his guts - if Alpha Fenrir Greyback was not his, then who was? The unknown dominant would be here, and when they realised that their own mate had been the false Lakta, kept in the Alpha’s household as his plaything for these past weeks, there would be hell to pay. Hell for Harry to pay.

The panic set in then and all the riotous thoughts he had kept at bay battered him as he found increasingly the crowd was battering him to the left, wildly off-target. He felt incommensurately stupid, so desperately, desperately stupid. How could he have believed for even one moment that a dominant like Fenrir was meant for someone like him? Someone beautiful and strong, someone kind and powerful, who listened to him, who sought and deferred to his opinions? What had he ever done in his life to suggest that he was meant for such great things? He was only the battered and measly youngest son of a dead mother and a father who wished that he could have found a dead babe in the labouring room and not a dead mate. The youngest brother who could only ever pale in comparison to his vibrant and virile elders. Friendless, charmless, stupid, stupid, stupid! His mate would be the one who beat him, who kept him poor and frightened in the manner of his father, the mate who did not mind their friends’ drunken advances towards him, whose children would be terrorised if submissive and indoctrinated if dominant.

For a moment, still struggling onwards and beaten far to the left of his desired path, he demanded why. The why of the Alpha’s behaviour - what purpose had this served him? Surely he had humiliated his true mate as much as he had Harry. He had not pressed for any physical intimacy between them. Why then? A mistake? Was he as inept at recognising his soulmate as Harry had been? Did he not have advisers to guide him from such ills? He could make no sense of how this could have come to pass at all. He abandoned such thoughts. It was too painful to dwell on the Alpha’s inner feelings and desires, to think on him at all.

Abruptly the crowd’s timbre altered - a great shout and cheering went up. Harry blanched impossibly whiter. Clearly the invisible mating barrier had come down for the Alpha as his Lakta joined him on stage. Their union was clear for all to see.

Finally the crowd was thinning, he could see spaces of green grass and blue seawater on his left. He broke into a run as soon as he could, wishing fiercely to be as far away from the mating crowd as he could get. He stumbled to a halt as he broke past the last line pushing forwards to squint towards the altar in the centre of the crowd. His head now felt thick and muggy - this exertion was clearly ill-advised so soon after his encounter with the Nictam.

Crossing his path in front of him was one of the tributaries leading out to the Atlantic. He turned to his right to begin to follow it towards the Palace. There were carts, caravans and even a fine carriage lining the edge of the crowd, selling food and drink to those gathered there. Harry was frustrated to have to navigate further obstacles on his journey back to his brothers.

Before he had taken but a few steps Harry was stopped by a heavy hand on his shoulder. He turned around to see who held him so familiarly and saw a thin and ruddy dominant, unusually only slightly taller than him. His colouring was dark, his face familiar. Harry opened his throat to speak but all of a sudden was violently shoved backwards by his assailant, causing him to crash into an open cart. Harry was both winded physically as well as mentally stunned by this unwarranted and inexplicable attack. Before he could so much as gather his thoughts, the attacking dominant had clambered into the cart with him. He lay his full length on top of Harry and kept him pinned with his weight alone.

“Wha-?”

The man clapped a fearsome hand across his nose and mouth, cutting off Harry’s cries. Harry’s eyes widened in shock - did this man mean to suffocate him right here?

To his relief the dominant only stared meaningfully into his eyes, placing a thin finger to his own lips. Harry nodded in encouragement and was rewarded with the release of his nose, allowing him to breathe in the musty scent of his cart. The dominant pulled a burlap awning over their bodies, intimately entangled as they were, and the cart began to move.
- 16
- 17
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What Are You Worth?