Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Lunaticus Book One: Half Moon	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Remus Views: 18438 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, I gain nothing from this but a way to pass the time.

Chapter List
- 19
- 20
- 21
A/N: So far, the longest chapter in this fic. I had a lot to cram into this one, and I actually had time to work on it properly, as my fluffmonster is finally on the road to recovery! (After going on a month in and out of the vet's office. Phew.)
Chapter 20 – Scent

Harry's skin was twitching, and it felt as though it might literally crawl off his bones. The warmth of the Floo that encased him did little to calm the churning discomfort the presence of the other werewolf had caused, and it took a great deal of effort to keep still as he whipped towards home. Greyback's barbs against Remus had stung, and though the trip home from the Ministry barely lasted thirty seconds, this evening it felt more like several hours in his impatience to see Remus. At last, Harry tumbled out of the fireplace in a partial somersault, coming out far too quickly and he wound up landing in a heap at the older man's feet.

“Eager to get home?” Remus hadn't moved from the armchair, though he lowered the book in his hands and watched as Harry stood and brushed off his robes.

“More like eager to get away from Greyback. That man's about as pleasant as a Skele-Gro enema,” Harry rolled his shoulders, but it still felt as though there were bugs under his skin. “Eugh, If I never have to see him again it'll be too soon. I'm gonna—what?” Harry had begun to step around the chair, intent on taking a scalding shower, but Remus caught his hand before he had gotten very far.

Remus stood, set aside his book, and gently tugged on Harry's hand, pulling him into a clumsy embrace. He cradled the back of Harry's head in his hand and captured his lips in a gentle, yet domineering kiss. Harry shivered a little as he felt himself melt under the kiss, and he lifted his arms to drape them over Remus's shoulders as he returned it.

“If you always want to re-stake your claim like that, maybe I should hang around Greyback more often,” Harry said with a grin, while Remus wrapped his arms more securely around his waist and pulled Harry tightly against him.

“I hate his scent on you,” Remus murmured, his voice edged with a growl. He leaned forward to nip gently at Harry's bottom lip, eliciting a soft gasp from him, moments before he pulled Harry in for another kiss.

“Hence my burning desire to shower,” Harry replied as their lips parted, his voice barely above a hoarse whisper, while an amused smile played across his lips. He leaned in to kiss Remus one last time, and as he broke it he said, “don't worry, the only werewolf I want to smell like is you.”

Satisfied with the sentiment, Remus released Harry with a small smile, and Harry headed upstairs.

The only werewolf I want to smell like is you? God, I can't believe I said that. Harry felt his face burn, and he was thankful that no one was around to see it. He dipped his sudsy head under the shower spray, rinsing off the shampoo as he made a grab for the conditioner. He worked the product into his wet hair, his mouth twisted in a grimace as he thought over what he'd said, and the unsaid things it could imply. Remus was rarely one to push and it had been a few months since the incident...but was Harry really ready to go further?

Harry wasn't certain he was ready to go all the way with the man, but it was certainly not the same unpleasant thought it had once been. Harry picked up the bar of soap and scrubbed it roughly against his skin while his imagination supplied a rather attractive image of Remus with significantly less clothing than usual. Harry felt a tremble course through him, though the reaction was definitely not out of fear. The train of thought surprised Harry, in particular how the idea of further intimacy with the man did not scare him like it used to. It appeared that his prick seemed to agree with the sentiment, as it gave an interested jerk at the images Harry's mind had supplied.

Harry stared at his cock, and his fingers twitched a little. It had been so long since he'd had a good wank—or any kind of satisfying sexual stimulus. Chewing on his lip, his mind still flooded with stirring erotic images of Remus, he just barely managed to swallow a soft moan of longing.

I'm gonna regret this, Harry thought as he stepped fully under the shower spray, rinsing himself clean as he grabbed hold of his half-hard cock.

Harry knew at once that his desire for a wank had not gone unnoticed. As he stepped into the sitting room, he saw Remus's nostrils flare distinctly, and Harry aimed for ignorant nonchalance as he stepped over to the sofa, bare feet slapping softly against the stone floor, and sat down.

The moment Harry had eased into the sofa's cushions, Remus got up from his armchair, abandoned his teacup and novel, and slid in next to Harry. He looped an arm around Harry's shoulders and buried his face into the crook of his neck, and inhaled. Harry trembled a little as the sparse stubble tickled his exposed skin at his collar; it was not an unpleasant sensation in the least.

“Mmm,” Remus rumbled in his throat, a vocalization that sounded close to a purr, “much better,” He kissed Harry once, but much to Harry's surprise, he did not press him for more, and instead summoned his novel and teacup and relaxed into the sofa.

Harry curled into Remus's side, and pressed his chin against the werewolf's shoulder, “What're you reading?”

“Stephenson,” Remus replied absentmindedly, as he riffled through the book to find his page. “Most wizards abhor muggle literature, but I quite like it myself.”

“Be honest, you'd be happy reading the back of a cereal box,” Harry said with a small laugh while Remus chuckled softly and he shrugged, though he did not deny it. Harry looked down at the page as Remus settled back into his book, but he found the slow prose rather dull, and instead shifted his gaze to the crackling fire, content to sit and relax until Kreacher called them.

~*~

“I should've known better than to assume that once I actually talked to Greyback it'd be smooth sailing from there...” Harry grumbled as he stared down at the inter-departmental memo that laid flat in the centre of his desk. It amazed him that they still managed to sound professional with so many expletives peppered throughout the note.

“Another rejection?” Caldwell asked from the office door, while she shrugged out of her sopping wet travelling cloak and hung it up. It had been a week since that first meeting with Greyback, and negotiating the terms for Greyback's release for with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was slowly driving Harry mad.

“It's like arguing with a brick wall, except I'd get more from the brick wall,” Harry grumbled, and looked up at his supervisor, “can't you—?”

“No I can't, Potter. You wanted to have Greyback released early, so you have to argue with the Magical Law Enforcement people, not me. I'm not putting my job on the line for someone like him. I'll vouch for you, but that's as far as I'll go,” Caldwell said, her voice hard. Harry grimaced, but nodded. It was true that Caldwell had done more than enough for him, and for Greyback by extension. If Greyback was let out and resumed his child-killing, it would be Harry's head on the chopping block. He looked down at the note and tried to think of a rebuttal to send back to them, but at that same moment, a light blue memo fluttered into their office and landed on Harry's desk.

“Another colourful note from our dear friends down the hall?” Caldwell asked, her tone almost teasing. Harry stared at her for a moment, not certain he'd heard her right; Caldwell was rarely one to joke. He supposed that watching him grasp blindly at straws in his ongoing verbal war with the Magical Law Enforcement people was her in-office entertainment—at least until one side gave up. He shook his head a little and unfolded the memo, and in the same moment almost dropped it in surprise.

“It's from Kingsley—er, Minister Shacklebolt,” Harry amended. He and the other surviving Order members were the only ones who got away with calling the Minister of Magic by his given name, a habit Caldwell had always disapproved of.

“And what does our esteemed leader want with you?” She asked, her tone wary.

“Dunno, but I can guess—he wants to see me right away,” Harry replied as he stood up, chewing the inside of his cheek nervously.

“If he murders you over this Greyback issue, I'll send your personal effects on to Grimmauld Place,” Caldwell said as she turned to the mess of papers on her own desk as Harry barked a short laugh. He stood and walked stiffly into the hall, the memo clenched tightly in his fist.

Despite Kingsley being an old friend, he was still the Minister, and if he wanted to see Harry, it likely wasn't good. How much has he heard about the Greyback thing? Harry wondered as he stepped into the lift. He was certain that that was what Kingsley wanted to see him about, but Harry didn't know whether he would agree with the logic behind negotiating with the werewolf, or if he would veto it outright, thus taking away Harry's only chance at locating the werewolf packs. His stomach turned over at the idea; Greyback was their only lead towards protecting the packs from Red Moon, and Harry had no idea what he would do if Kingsley barred them from securing some kind of conditional release for Greyback.

“Harry,” Kingsley greeted Harry at the door to his office, and he stepped inside with a weak smile. “I'm so glad you could make it down,” he said, leading Harry to his polished oak desk, which was scattered with an alarming stack of memos from a number of different departments. Despite the mess of notes, his office was immaculately tidy, and made Harry feel like a complete slob by comparison when he thought of his own office.

Harry stepped over to the chair in front of the desk and sat down heavily. Kingsley sat opposite him, and flicked his wand once to conjure a tea tray reminiscent of the kind Harry had seen from Dumbledore on more than one occasion. “Tea?” he asked, smiling faintly, and Harry shook his head once.

“No thanks,” he replied with a small smile. “What—what'd you want to see me about?”

“Well, Harry,” Kingsley said his voice shifting from the cordial voice to his Minister of Magic tone. He helped himself to a cup, and cradled it in his hands while he regarded Harry over the rim. “I received a rather interesting owl from a few distressed individuals in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, can you guess what they were about?”

“Perhaps my recent trip to Azkaban?” Harry ventured, wincing as his voice shook a little, despite his efforts to sound professional. Kingsley smiled.

“Good guess. I know you've been on this Red Moon case for a while, but granting Greyback an early release...” he trailed off and Harry frowned, certain a rejection was coming. “To do such a thing, the Ministry would be taking an incredible risk. He's a convicted Death Eater, not to mention an infamous child killer. If the public got wind of this, there would be hell to pay. I am doing what I can for the werewolf community, but my influence can only stretch so far, and people are still incredibly mistrustful of werewolves on the whole,” Kingsley's smooth voice did not betray his feeling towards Harry's idea one way or the other, and he paused to sip his tea before he continued. “Tell me what your reasoning is, if he was to be granted an early release.”

Harry had been expecting an instant rejection, and as a result Kingsley's request had shocked him into momentary silence. Harry shook his head, cleared his throat, and tried again for his professional adult voice.

“When I was originally researching Greyback's past trials, both from the first and second Wizarding Wars, as well as his personal history, I found there to be...well, a lot of inconsistencies,” Harry chanced a look up into Kingsley's eyes, but he did not interrupt and nodded for Harry to continue.

“During both wars, Voldemort granted Greyback the other werewolves on his side freedoms that the Ministry had long denied them, and he was promised protection for his own pack—the reports weren't clear if Voldemort had threatened his pack or if he meant protection from the Ministry...I'm not sure.

“Then with his personal history...” Harry paused, frowning as he recalled what he'd read, and the complete lack of evidence for the 'child killer' accusations. “I mean, he's called a child-killer, but if that's true, where are the bodies? Kids go missing in the villages around his territory, and it looks to me more like a convenient excuse to imprison him, instead of properly looking into it. I mean, for all we know these kids could've been kidnapped by a muggle, or a wizard, or they could have been runaways.”

“Greyback did admit to turning a great many of those missing children, you realize,” Kingsley cut in calmly, “including—”

“—Remus, I know,” Harry frowned, offering Kingsley an apologetic look for cutting him off. “But, turning, not killing. I'm just not so sure it's as cut and dry as the Ministry wants to make it out to be. I—what?” Harry faltered, confused by the amused smile he now saw Kingsley directing at him.

“Some things never change Harry. You've always wanted to see the good in everyone—even Death Eaters, apparently,” Harry smiled weakly and bowed his head in embarrassment. Kingsley chuckled a little, and shifted back to his Minister voice. “All right then, explain to me why we should even entertain the idea of granting him an early release, how can he possibly help on this case you're working on?”

Emboldened by the lack of criticism, Harry jumped right in, “well, I don't know if you've seen our reports in detail, but we suspect that Red Moon is constructing a Nexbolus geared towards Werewolves. My supervisor, Auror Caldwell asked me to talk to Remus, and ask him if there's a way to track and locate nearby werewolf packs to warn them about what was coming, and protect them if they'd let us. Remus said that he couldn't do it, and he told me that only Alpha werewolves had such an ability. I thought—”

“—that Greyback would be an ideal candidate?” Kingsley finished, cutting Harry off mid-sentence. Swallowing thickly, he nodded.

Kingsley was quiet for a long time as he studied Harry with a strange, calculating look that Harry had rarely seen outside of Order meetings. At long last, he smiled.

“As far as mad, half-baked plans go, I have honestly heard worse,” he said, and Harry felt his entire body sag with relief at the lack of a rejection. “Here is what I would like you to do Harry: Write a proposal to me, and tell me how you plan to keep Greyback out of trouble if we grant him an early release. Do that for me, and I will consider it. Deal?” Kingsley stretched his arm across the desk, hand open. Grinning, Harry reached across and shook it.

“Deal.”

~*~

That evening, instead of doing something pleasant like unwinding with Remus in front of the fire, Harry had barricaded himself in the library in an effort to compose his proposal. A mess of crumpled up first drafts littering the desk he sat at, and more still were scattered across the floor around the bin, not ten feet from him. Harry rubbed his eyes, frustration and exhaustion battling for dominance in his head, with his quill poised halfway down the page. He tried to come up with what to say, and he found himself terribly missing the days when he could just barrel ahead with his mad plans, instead of having to wait for written permission first.

Harry started slightly as a pair of arms encircled his upper arms, and Remus's chin pressed gently into the top of his shoulder. “Having fun?” he asked, a note of amusement in his tone.

“Loads,” Harry said sarcastically as he threw down the quill with a frustrated huff. “The bureaucracy is driving me mental, and there's a very good chance the Magical Law Enforcement people will crucify for going over their heads and sending this straight to Kingsley. I had no idea fighting the forces of evil involved so much damn paperwork.”

“I think you need a break,” Remus said with a small chuckle as he moved back slightly to rub at Harry's shoulders. Harry let out a small groan, his eyes fluttering shut and his head slumped forward a little, melting under the older man's talented hands. “You've been in here for going on four hours, come have something to eat, clear your head a bit, then have another crack at it.”

“No,” Harry mumbled, opening his eyes and rubbed at them again, “I should—I should finish...” he said halfheartedly, while he stared down at his latest attempt at the proposal. Remus continued to rub at his shoulders, and after a moment he felt Remus press a soft kiss against the back of his neck.

“Come on,” Remus said, his voice never raising above a soft murmur, “ten minutes.” Remus's mouth trailed along the back of Harry's neck and slowly encouraged Harry to turn his head. He followed Remus's lead enthusiastically, and the moment their lips met Harry felt pleasure and desire radiate through every part of his body. He lifted a hand to rest it against Remus's cheek, while a soft, involuntary moan escaped him.

“I thought you said food,” Harry muttered, his mouth twitching into a small smile as they broke apart.

“There could be food involved,” Remus replied with a wicked grin, and Harry snorted. Remus pulled Harry up, and he turned to face Remus properly while he draped his arms across the older man's shoulders.

“Perhaps you're right,” Harry said with a small smile, “maybe I do need a break, a change of sce—” his words were cut off by another kiss, though this time it was not one of the apprehensive, careful shows of affection Remus had subjected him to over the last few weeks. The kiss was deep, heated, and Harry felt as though his brain had shut off from it—but in the best possible way. Harry's lips parted and his tongue darted out to meet Remus's, both men groaning softly with desire, the kind that Harry had not felt in the presence of another in a long, long time. Remus gently pushed Harry backward, cautious to avoid over-using force, and Harry found himself perched on the edge of the desk with Remus standing between his legs.

Remus's left hand moved from Harry's shoulders, trailed down his front, and moved to slip under his Chudley Cannons T-shirt. At the same moment, a sharp crack cut through the air, and they jumped apart in surprise. Harry turned, and saw Kreacher standing there, a platter of sandwiches and pumpkin juice balanced over his head.

“Master has been working hard, and Kreacher is bringing you a snack, as Kreacher is certain Master must be hungry,” he croaked, while he shot a scathing look at Remus.

Harry bit this inside of his cheek, caught between laughing at Kreacher's obvious attempt at interrupting their private moment, and frustration at the elf's deliberate cockblocking. It was safe to assume that Remus agreed with the latter sentiment, as a soft, annoyed growl escaped him, though Harry wasn't certain whether or not Kreacher had caught it.

“Thanks Kreacher,” Harry said at last, smiling weakly at the elf as he toddled over and slid the tray onto the available desk space. Harry slid off the desk reluctantly, Remus's hand coming to rest against his lower back in an instant. Harry leaned into the touch as Kreacher bowed low, and the elf disappeared with another crack.

“I'm absolutely certain he did that on purpose,” Harry said with a small grin while he snatched up a sandwich.

“Tell me something I don't know,” Remus grumbled a little, watching Harry eat with a small frown.

“Dog spit is cleaner than human,” Harry answered at once, while he struggled to keep from laughing when Remus stared at him blankly.

“Yeah, apart from that,” he said at last, his mouth quirking into a small half-smile. Harry swallowed his mouthful of chicken and ham, licked the mustard off his bottom lip, and pulled Remus in for a quick kiss.

“Come on, relax, Kreacher will get over it in time, don't worry,” Harry said, but Remus snorted disbelievingly.

“Assuming he doesn't poison me first,” he said while he wrapped an arm around Harry's waist.

“At this point, I doubt he'll actually poison you, at least, he probably wouldn't slip you something that would actually kill you. I could still see him slipping you some...I dunno, essence of leprosy or something.”

“I'm so glad I have your support,” Remus said sarcastically, and Harry grinned. The older man's expression softened and he pulled Harry in for another kiss, one which Harry happily returned.

“All right, come on,” he said as he broke the kiss, much to Harry's displeasure, “I want to see you eat, then I'll let you get back to work,” Harry groaned a little; Remus's attentions had made him want to do anything but work on his bloody proposal.

After downing two sandwiches and sharing several more delightful kisses with the older man, Remus reluctantly left Harry alone to get back to work.

Kingsley hadn't specifically stated that he needed the proposal so soon, but Harry was keen to get moving on his plan, as he had a feeling that they were running out of time. As a result, it was well past two in the morning by the time he deemed the proposal finished. After he sent Strax off with it bound to his leg, Harry crawled into bed next to Remus. He was asleep almost at once.

Going to bed at such a late hour came back to haunt Harry the following morning when he woke up well past his usual time and he had to rush into the Floo without his breakfast and a hasty goodbye to Remus. By the time he'd made it to his office, he was presented with his desk decorated with a number of scorch marks that he did not recall seeing the day before, and he looked over to Caldwell, arching a questioning brow.

“Minister Shacklebolt came by, he's approved your proposal. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement is a little annoyed, from what I heard from your unopened Howlers,” she said in a distracted tone of voice, her eyes never leaving the paperwork she was going over, though the corner of her mouth was twitching in a small smile of amusement.

Harry moved to his desk and sat down heavily, ignoring the stack of angry memos in favour of the official-looking envelope that sat in the centre of his desk and slit it open. It confirmed what Caldwell had told him, and it contained Kingsley's approval for his mad scheme. Setting the letter aside, he pulled a blank scroll of parchment towards him and set to composing a letter to Azkaban, while a single thought passed through his mind, I hope I'm not making a horrible mistake.

At lunchtime, Harry was quite keen to get out of the office, given that his morning had lacked anything exciting, unless he counted the number of Howlers that Magical Law Enforcement continued to throw his way in their fury at Harry for getting the Minister to approve releasing such a high-risk prisoner. Of course, Harry's responses of he summoned me to his office and asked me about it, not the other way around were ignored, and instead of doing anything productive, he spent his time putting out small fires and clearing the scorch marks off his desk.

Harry was no longer completely certain that releasing him was the right thing to do. He knew it was what they needed to do in order to gain his help, but did the end really justify the means? Harry wasn't sure. After listening to so many people parrot facts at him about Greyback's exploits, it was becoming increasingly difficult for Harry to separate the truth from the urban legends that surrounded the man.

Harry was so lost in thought that he had hardly noticed his feet carrying him out of the office and to the lift. He only snapped out of his daze when he heard someone call his name.

“Harry?” Harry looked up and found himself in the Atrium, and not two feet from the Floo stood Ron and Hermione, looking at him uncertainly.

“Oh, hi,” Harry smiled weakly, and he was relieved that they both looked as nervous and uncomfortable as he felt at the sight of them. Harry had seen them both in passing since that first mediated lunch, but he found himself too busy with Remus and everything regarding Greyback to worry much about his tenuous friendship with the both of them.

“Er—going out to lunch?” Ron asked.

“Yeah,” Harry replied, “got to get away for a little bit,” Harry smiled weakly, and they both returned the gesture.

“Would you like to join us? We're headed to the Leaky,” Hermione said, her voice quivering a little as she spoke, making it clear how nervous she was.

Harry hesitated for a half-moment. He did want to fix things with Ron and Hermione; they had been like family to him for so many years, and Harry couldn't throw it all away because he couldn't get past one of his best friends getting bewitched. He hadn't blamed Ginny for opening the Chamber of Secrets, or for Ron taking off when the Locket Horcrux turned him into an absolute prat, and treating Hermione differently wasn't fair. Harry knew it, and he knew that the only way he'd be able to get past it was to actually spend time with them again.

“Er, yeah, all right,” Harry said, and his smile broadened as both of them visibly perked up.

“Great,” Ron said with a relieved smile, “we'll see you there.”

The trio each took their turns in the Floo, then selected a table towards the back of the pub. Tom sent them over their usual fare with a flagon of Butterbeer, and as Harry dug into his steak and kidney pie, Ron spoke without preamble, his mouth full.

“I've been hearing some rumours,” Ron said thickly, chasing the oversized mouthful down with a large gulp of drink.

“About me?” Harry asked, hiding his face behind his glass, certain that he knew exactly where this was going. Were they ever going to go out to lunch again without some form of interrogation taking place? It was getting ridiculous.

“Rumours that you've been negotiating the early release of a certain high-profile prisoner who may or may not have mauled my brother,” Ron hissed the last word, and Harry frowned. Hermione looked troubled, but nowhere near as upset by the news as Ron was—not that Harry could blame him.

“Ron, it's not that simple, I can explain,” Harry said quickly and paused, expecting Ron to interrupt him, and was rather shocked when he didn't. Clearing his throat, he pressed on before either of them could interject, and repeated everything he'd said to Kingsley about Greyback, starting from Caldwell's request for him to talk to Remus, and up to his idea that Greyback, as an Alpha, could likely help them.

“It's not like we're gonna open the cell and let him go and dust our hands of him or something,” Harry continued, his throat beginning to feel a little raw from all the talking. “We've got a list of conditions he needs to follow to a T, otherwise he's headed straight back to Azkaban. I ran it past Kingsley, we've covered all our bases, and its highly unlikely that anything...well...bad is gonna happen because of it. We don't want a repeat of what happened the last time G...” Harry trailed off, and cast a quick look around the pub, checking for eavesdroppers or suspicious beetle insects hanging around where they shouldn't be. “It won't be a repeat of what happened the last time he was out. I swear.”

“Harry, I hope you know what you're doing,” Hermione said with a frown, her hand in Ron's, and Harry could see him clutching onto her very tightly. “I trust your judgment, but this—this person, he's very dangerous, I just hope it's not you who suffers the consequences of this decision,” Harry laughed weakly, and the couple cracked similar feeble smiles.

“Yeah, me too.”

The trio fell into a comfortable silence following the tense discussion, and they passed the rest of the hour eating their food, suddenly ravenous after the strained conversation. Harry couldn't blame either of their reactions, but he was amazed at Ron's attitude in particular, which was much more subdued and less incensed that he would have expected. He still looked troubled by Harry's plan, but offered up no more arguments, though he stabbed at his food a little more forcefully than was necessary.

As they stood to head back to the Ministry, Harry reached out and caught Hermione's arm. “Er, Hermione? Could you wait a moment?” he asked, and her eyes went wide at the request.

“Um, okay,” she said, glancing at Ron and giving him a small nod when he hesitated, then returned the gesture and headed over to the Floo to leave them alone. Once Ron had gone, Hermione turned back to him, “what is it Harry?”

“I just...I want to apologize, I mean for how I've been acting these last few weeks,” he said, focusing on her while he spoke, and she blinked in confusion.

“Apologize? What for?”

“I mean, I haven't even tried to fix things with you and Ron, apart from our partners ambushing us that one time,” Harry smiled when she giggled and nodded in agreement, “I know that that...thing wasn't you, but with everything else that was going on, I just didn't really have the head-space to deal with it, and I'm sorry. You're one of my best friends, and I hate that things have been so strained lately,” he said, feeling the guilt bubbling to the surface as he spoke, “I'm really sorry, Hermione.”

Hermione's eyes brimmed with tears, the moment he'd finished his apology, and she all but threw herself at him in a bone-crushing hug. Harry had had a feeling that that might be her reaction, and as a result it didn't alarm him. He wrapped his arms around her and returned the hug while she sobbed into his shoulder, mumbling her own apologies while he patted her back a little awkwardly, aware that the other patrons had turned to stare at them for several long moments before they returned their gazes to their own tables.

Harry was late getting back to the office, but he couldn't find it in himself to care much, as he felt lighter than he had in weeks. Things were finally on their way to going back to normal, and Harry was beyond thrilled. As he stepped into the office, he stopped short when he saw an official-looking envelope resting innocently in the centre of his desk.

“It came while you were at lunch,” Caldwell filled in, her tone distracted as she worked at her desk, “it's not hate mail, if that makes you feel any better.”

If it wasn't hate mail, he knew exactly what it had to be. Harry approached the desk, picked up the envelope and glanced briefly at the Azkaban wax seal before he slit it open and unfolded the letter.

4^th June 2002
Azkaban Prison

Dear Mr Potter,

Your release forms for inmate #000121 Fenrir Greyback have been received and his release is being processed. Mr Greyback's release date is set for Tuesday 11^th June, 2002. As his escort, please arrive at the prison at 10AM. Mr Greyback will meet with you to discuss the terms that have been set, then if he is agreeable his release will be finalized.

Should you have any questions, please forward them to Azkaban Prison, with ATTN to Auror Marion Porter.

Marion Porter
Azkaban Prison
Prisoner Release Office

Harry read and reread the letter multiple times, the words not completely registering with him.

“Congratulations Potter,” Caldwell said, and Harry glanced up to see her standing in front of his desk with her arms crossed, “you've secured the release of the most infamous werewolf in history. I hope you know what you're doing,” Harry looked back down at the letter in his hands.

“Yeah, me too.”

~*~

Harry had just barely stumbled out of the fire grate when he all but threw himself at Remus and caught his lips in a searing kiss, uncaring that he was still ashen from head to toe. Startled, Remus dropped the book in his hands, and it took a moment for his brain to catch up before he reciprocated and pulled Harry into his lap, his arms hooking loosely around Harry's waist.

“Not that I'm complaining,” Remus murmured softly when Harry stopped for breath, “but what brought this on?”

“I secured Greyback's release,” Harry said, and he felt Remus tense beneath him.

“Considering you spent the last few weeks trying to do just that, you don't exactly seem thrilled by the news that your insane plan worked.”

“I'm just wondering if it's a good idea, if getting the locations of the packs is worth releasing Greyback, or if we're taking too big of a risk...” Harry frowned a little, while Remus arched a confused brow.

“You're thinking about this now?” Harry laughed at Remus's disbelieving tone of voice, and extricated his wand from his pocket and banished the ash from himself and the fingermarks he'd left on Remus before he continued.

“Well, I've just had to repeat my arguments so many times recently, the things people have told me about him kind of made me wonder, you know?” Remus smiled a little, and pulled Harry in for a slow, tender kiss.

“You're being ridiculous,” Remus said firmly as he broke the kiss, his lips scant millimetres from Harry's, “don't let what anyone says influence your decision. Greyback is far from being a good man, but he is definitely a noble man. His priority is keeping his pack safe, whatever the cost. I was privy to his attitude towards my kind when I was spying for the Order,” he continued, while he moved one of his hands to the back of Harry's neck, and gently rubbed the skin he found there. The gentle touches made it rather difficult for Harry to focus on what Remus was saying.

“A large portion of my life was spent listening to stories about how Greyback was a horrible, vicious monster, and to say that I was surprised by the man behind the myth would be a massive understatement,” he said, his eyes distant and lost in thought as he continued to caress the back of Harry's neck lightly, and he rested his head against Remus's shoulder as he listened. “Most of my kind supported Voldemort—he is greatly respected by most werewolves, even those of other packs, and they trust his judgment. The image the Ministry portrays when they speak of him is very different from the truth. Just remember that.”

“Thanks Remus,” Harry said with a smile, lifted his head to kissed him once before he spoke again. “It means a lot, coming from...I mean, you have more call than most to hate Greyback, and it must be true if you, ah, say so.” Harry winced a little at the jumbled up statement, but Remus seemed to understand the sentiment and pulled Harry close for another kiss.

~*~

The week passed slowly for Harry, in particular thanks to his subconscious attempting to process all his anxieties at once. This left him with some very confusing dreams that caused him to wake at random times throughout the night, leaving him exhausted come morning. Despite Remus's pestering, Harry had refused to divulge the nature of the dreams, they were too weird—and too erotic.

Remus had not failed to notice the physical evidence of this latter aspect, but before he could say or do anything, Harry was up and out of bed, his face a deep beet red as he hurried to the shower to rid himself of the morning erection.

Remus did his best to hide his frustration at Harry's brushoffs, but Harry could practically feel the annoyance that radiated off the man. He tried to make it up to Remus in the evenings—at least until Kreacher 'accidentally' interrupted them. The pent-up sexual tension left the couple in some sort of awkward one step forward, five steps back sort of situation, and Harry was certain that he found it as frustrating at Remus did.

Harry knew for a fact that he was no longer afraid of intimacy with Remus. If anything, his nightly erotic dreams were proof of that. However, the prospect of being the submissive partner in the relationship was still a source of anxiety for Harry, and he had an unfortunate habit of losing his nerve before they got very far.

On Monday night Harry crawled into bed with Remus, and he fell heavily into the pillows with an audible flump. Remus slid in next to him a little more gracefully, and he draped his arm around Harry's waist, while he pressed his open palm against the centre of his chest and rested his head against the pillow alongside him.

“Tomorrow the big day,” Remus murmured, while he pressed a light kiss to Harry's bare shoulder. “Nervous?”

“Not at all,” Harry replied sarcastically, “I'm sure that everything will go brilliantly and Greyback will skip off into the sunset, wind in his hair, and a song in his heart,” He turned his head a little to take in the dark silhouette of the older man, but before Harry could say anything else, Remus drew him in for a kiss. It was now a familiar sensation of a slow and tender kiss, the kind that made Harry feel as though he'd been hit with a particularly powerful Jelly Legs Jinx.

“Relax,” Remus murmured, trailing his fingertips up and down Harry's chest as he spoke. “It'll be fine, you'll see,” his breath tickled Harry's damp lips as he spoke, the sensations distracting him so completely from Remus's words that it took a long moment for the words to sink in.

“I hope you're right,” Harry muttered, shifting closer to him as he spoke and closed his eyes. He still had a strange feeling that there would be major consequences to having Greyback released, but Harry couldn't see what they might be. Remus squeezed him in a gentle half-hug, and despite Harry's shattered nerves at what was to come, Remus's offered comfort calmed him enough to allow him to sleep.

Harry recognized the forest he was in, he had visited it before.

The forest floor was soft and springy with moss and leaf litter. A gentle green light dappled the winding path he stood on, the thick canopy of trees blocking out direct sunlight. Harry had visited this place, but somehow he also knew that he'd never been there before.

“What are we doing here?” Harry asked, looking up at Remus, who was walking with him, when a moment before he was certain that he had been alone.

“It is the destination. You are still walking the paths,” Remus replied, staring ahead and never glancing toward Harry.

“The destination? But...there's nothing here,” Harry looked around, but that wasn't entirely true. They'd stepped from the path and into a clearing, wildlife darting into the shelter of the trees, just as Greyback appeared at the other side. The sight of him made Harry's stomach clench with sudden fear.

“I am not the destination, I am the answer,” Greyback said, his coarse voice clear, and lacking its usual angry growl.

“The answer to what? I don't understand!” Harry looked from Greyback to Remus and back again, but neither man offered up an explanation, their faces blank as they both stared at him.

“You will know when it is time to select the next path,” Remus said, and was suddenly embracing Harry, Remus's mouth on his, and Harry was acutely aware of how just as suddenly their clothes had gone.

Greyback looked on as Remus coaxed Harry to the ground. The only thing Remus wore was a small silver key on a chain. Harry couldn't recall ever seeing before, and he reached up to brush his fingers against the cool metal. He gasped and broke the kiss, his hand lurching back as the metal burned his skin. Remus grabbed Harry's hand and kissed his inflamed fingertips.

“It's not time yet,” Remus murmured, then rotated his hips, rutting himself against Harry, the single movement causing Harry's back to arch as he hissed, pleasure lancing through him as Remus claimed his mouth again.

Greyback looked on, his intense blue gaze never leaving the writhing pair; he lifted an apple to his mouth and bit into it, the juice dribbled down his chin and stained his Azkaban robes.

Harry woke with a start.

His skin was dotted with cold sweat, and Remus was holding him close. One of his hands had strayed, and was hovering near the elastic of Harry's pyjama bottoms. They were quite noticeably tented, and Harry could feel Remus's own excitement at his arousal pressed against his lower back. Harry's breath hitched as he froze, uncertain whether he wanted to bolt from the bed as fast as his legs could carry him, or encourage Remus to continue.

Before he could decide one way or the other, Remus's fingers slid slowly under the elastic, and Harry exhaled a shuddering breath as the large, warm hand wrapped around his morning hard-on.

“R-Remus I—” Harry felt so confused in his haze of arousal, waking, and nervousness all jumbled together in his mind, but at his stammered words, Remus pressed a gentle kiss against Harry's shoulder, and rubbed his hand along Harry's upper arm reassuringly.

“It's all right,” Remus murmured softly, “you can trust me.” Harry closed his eyes, his heart thudding in his chest, his misgivings partially eclipsed by how good Remus's hand felt on him. Harry nodded his head minutely before he could talk himself out of it, and at once he began to move.

Remus slid his hand over Harry's erection with firm, steady strokes, his thumb brushing the leaking tip and squeezing the shaft in all the right places. Harry leaned his head back against Remus's chest, and he reached up to grip the back of the older man's neck while his voice escaped him in the form of soft grunts of pleasure, his hips jerking in time to Remus's movements.

“Oh God,” Harry's moaned, and he turned his head to the side, burying his face in the crook of Remus's neck. Pleasure lanced through him like an electric shock, and within minutes Harry found his release, spilling over Remus's hand with one last keening moan. Harry melted into the mattress while he gasped for breath, and he looked up at Remus, who was watching him with a small smile, and Harry felt his face grow warm.

Harry had no idea what to say, his mind blissfully blank in his post-orgasm haze, and watched as Remus lifted his hand to his mouth, still sticky with Harry's come, and flicked his tongue across the edge of his thumb. He licked it! Harry could hardly believe what he was seeing, and yet found himself incapable of turning away. Remus cleaned his entire hand with his tongue, and then pulled Harry in for a kiss. It was a little strange to taste himself on Remus's tongue, but he didn't dislike it.

Remus sat up and Harry followed his movements, though he was still a little dazed from his orgasm. He was clearly aroused by their morning activities, but Remus did not push Harry to return the favour. The attitude confused him, but before he had a chance to ask, Remus switched topics.

“You're seeing Greyback today to finalize his release, correct?” He asked while Harry blinked, his brow knitting together in confusion. Remus knew full-well that it was—they'd talked about it barely seven hours earlier.

“Er, yeah, we need to discuss the terms of his release and his promise to work with us—well, me. He won't talk to anyone else. Why?” Remus looked worried, but instead of answering verbally, he pulled Harry in for another kiss.

“Don't shower this morning. The scent...it may help keep Greyback from doing anything...unseemly.”

~*~

Caldwell accompanied Harry to Azkaban, though this time he entered the Visitor's Room alone, while she waited on the other side of the door. The contract for Greyback's release was clutched in his hand, and Harry tried to swallow his doubts as best he could. This was it; there was no turning back now. Harry ran through what he needed to say to the man for what felt like the hundredth time, but he felt no more ready to face him than he had a week ago.

Fenrir Greyback stepped into the tiny room, his wrists bound in manacles, though they were not the same ones Harry had seen him in last time. Silver runes had been etched into iron, and they left his writs and forearms clear of burns, but clearly they were designed to keep the werewolf from braking free. Greyback's nostrils flared as he leered at Harry, his mouth stretching into a wide grin, his eyes glinting in a way that made Harry very uncomfortable. He knew that Greyback could smell what he'd been up to that morning, and Harry hoped that Remus was right, that the scent evidence would be enough to make Greyback keep his hands to himself.

“Lupin's Bitch returns, I'm honoured,” he growled, and Harry felt himself flush. Greyback settled into the available seat and the guards stepped out to join Caldwell, the pair of them appeared confused at Greyback's remark, but neither of them commented on it.

“Shut up,” Harry snapped, forcing himself into his Professional Auror mindset, and he pushed back his memories of the morning as best he could. He set the contract on the table, and slid it across to the werewolf.

“Here are the terms of your release: You give us your full cooperation in locating werewolves that might be at risk from Red Moon, and you are free to go, barring certain conditions. I will be coming to your territory for unscheduled visits to ensure that you are keeping to non-human hunts during your moons, and you must undergo the placement of a Portkey Cuff. If you come within ten feet of a human child, you will immediately be transported back to your territory, and the Aurors will be signalled that you have broken our agreement. Further, if any children go missing within the villages around your pack's territory, you'll be back in here faster than you can say 'Dementor's Kiss'. Am I clear?”

Greyback watched Harry during his speech in attentive silence, and looked down at the contract to verify what he had said. The contract before him further detailed Harry's promise to not divulge any of the locations Greyback gave him unless there was dire need of it. After a moment of silence, a soft, angry growl, was the only reaction he got from the terms he'd set for his release, and Harry glared.

“These terms are non-negotiable Greyback, take them or leave them.”

Greyback was silent for a long time, his eyes narrowing in a glare, as though he was trying to force Harry to break down and negotiate the contract. When Harry did nothing but meet Greyback's eyes, he seemed to give in as he stood and extended his hand to Harry. He hesitated for a moment, then reached out to shake the werewolf's hand, his own appendage seeming to disappear in Greyback's huge hand.

“You would make a good Alpha Bitch, Potter,” he said gruffly, approval in his voice, “Your mind works the right way,” he squeezed Harry's hand once, though Harry could not work out if the words and action were a threat, or praise. Greyback stepped back, and Harry withdrew a self-inking quill and offered it to the werewolf. He accepted it at once, and signed his name at the bottom of the magical contract.

Harry scrawled his own signature below Greyback's, and the contract immediately rolled into a tight scroll and disappeared in a flash of blue light.

“The guards will have you processed and fitted with the cuff,” Harry said, while he ignored the low growl that Greyback emitted at the mention of wizarding magic anywhere on his person, and he pressed on. “I will take you by Side-Along Apparition to my office directly, and you can hold up your end of our bargain,” Harry said, then turned and strode out of the room without a backward glance.

~*~

Caldwell had gone on ahead, and Harry was left alone to wait for Greyback's release to be finalized. It took close to an hour, and when Greyback strode down the passageway towards Harry, he was surprised that the werewolf looked significantly better than he had earlier. He was dressed in frayed jeans and an open leather jacket, with nothing underneath to obstruct the sight of his chiselled and scarred chest. It looked as though he'd even taken the time to bathe, his silver locks were clean, tangle-free, and brushed away from his face; his facial hair had been trimmed, and he smelt of cedar instead of pungent body odour. His teeth were an off-white, and no longer caked in thick grime. Harry could just barely see the outline of the Portkey Cuff fastened to Greyback's ankle under the denim, and given the stiff way Greyback approached him he could guess that the cuff felt less like a cuff to him, and more like a heavy manacle.

“Phelan,” he greeted with a smirk, and Harry scowled at the apparent pet name. Greyback strode forward and made a grab for Harry, but his quick Seeker instincts refused to die, and he easily slipped out of reach.

“Don't touch me,” Harry snapped while he glared at the enormous man. “Come on, I'll Apparate us to my office—we've adjusted the Ministry's Apparition wards just for today—and you can hold up your end of the bargain.” Greyback fell in step alongside Harry, and his close proximity was enough to make Harry's skin crawl. The werewolf seemed amused by Harry's reaction, the nasty smirk never leaving his face as they headed to the edge of the island, just outside the Apparition wards. He reluctantly took hold of Greyback's upper arm, and willed them away.

Caldwell was at her desk when Harry appeared with Greyback, her head snapping up the moment they'd arrived. She narrowed her eyes at Greyback while Harry hastily let go of the man. She stood and slipped out of the office without a word. It seemed that this was a good move, as Greyback watched her exit with his lip curled over his teeth in a clear show of dislike.

“It's time to hold up your end of the bargain,” Harry repeated, keeping his voice even and professional as he spoke, pretending he hadn't seen the werewolf growling at his supervisor. “I'll escort you back to the outskirts of your pack's territory afterward.” Harry summoned a stack of maps with a casual flick of his wand, and ignored Greyback's warning growl at Harry's display of wizarding magic.

“These maps are charmed that only someone who knows the password can read them,” Harry explained as he spread out the maps on his desk. Greyback approached him to look down at the maps he'd laid out, the close proximity of the werewolf made Harry uneasy, though he did his best to not show it.

The maps displayed every magical community in the British Isles, as well as a number of wooded areas that housed magical creatures that the Ministry needed to keep tabs on. Harry looked up at Greyback expectantly, while Greyback stared down at the parchment, his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. Harry had a feeling he was debating whether or not to actually divulge the information, and while Harry could understand the man's reluctance, it took a great deal of effort to keep himself from looking as agitated as he felt.

“Here,” Greyback's voice rumbled a moment later while he pressed his index finger against the parchment. He growled as a small black 'X' appeared when he'd touched the parchment, as though displeased with the brand of magic, but offered up no more complaints as he continued to mark the maps, pointing out locations in the Black Forest, near Loch Ness, Ottery St Catchpole, Cornwall, Hull, and Brighton. An addendum was included to note the Forbidden Forest around Hogwarts, given that the castle and its grounds were Unplottable. Greyback marked several more places on the map that were villages so small that on the map they were illustrated as little more than a small squiggle.

“These,” he began, motioning to a handful of the marks hidden in deep forest, “are the larger packs—including my own. They house twenty to fifty wolves at any one time, and the territories are heavily guarded with werewolf magic...and on occasion wizard magic as well,” he sneered the word with disgust, but continued before Harry could say a word. “These are least likely to be attacked by those...people. They too well-protected; if these people have any sense of self-preservation, I doubt that they'll even try.” He moved on to the marks in the middle of several cities and towns, “These are small wolf packs that I know of that have more or less integrated into wizard society. They may have human mates—of that I am uncertain. Thy will be six to eight wolves in a house or flat, and they do not like drawing attention to themselves; they are more likely to be targeted.”

Greyback paused, the continuous rumble of displeasure in his tone reminding Harry of a grumpy cat. “These are the locations of the lone wolves that I know of,” he pointed to the tiny villages as well as Hull and Loch Ness. “Lone wolves usually left their packs on bad terms, or they are like your mate—unable to accept what they are,” Harry gritted his teeth at the pointed barb against Remus, but swallowed the argument that bubbled up in his throat. Now wasn't the time to bicker with Fenrir Greyback about his 'choice' of a mate. “They are the most likely to be targeted by these people, and you must make locating them your top priority,” he said, though Harry could hear doubt in his tone. Did Greyback seriously think that after all that he'd blow off the information he was being given?

“Okay, great,” Harry said, feeling a little dizzy from the information overload. “Now how do we—I go about contacting them? I want to be able to warn them about what's coming, and help them ward their homes and territories if they'll let me.”

Greyback snorted derisively, as though the idea of any of his kind actually accepting Harry's help was laughable, and Harry rolled his eyes at the reaction. He crossed his arms and arched his left brow as if to say, I'm waiting, and it was several long minutes before Greyback spoke again.

“For moderate to large packs, do not Apparate directly into their territory, or too close to it. Come from a distance, so that they will see you coming. This will lessen the chances of them killing you on sight. I'd suggest bringing a strong Dominant with you for protection, as the Alphas of the other packs may take you more seriously if you are in the company of another werewolf, and not alone,” Greyback growled out the words, but his tone was less angry and more thoughtful, giving Harry the impression that he actually cared about getting the message out to the other packs, and he wasn't sharing the information with Harry just as a means to escape Azkaban.

“That's fine,” Harry replied in an even, conversational tone, “I'll just—”

“—not Lupin,” Greyback said, cutting him off. “You want to bring a true werewolf. None of my kin, especially those in the large packs will take your mate seriously. He is too deeply integrated into wizarding society. If he is willing, I will request that my Beta, Ulrich, accompany you.”

Harry gritted his teeth in frustration and struggled to bite back an angry retort. One more crack about Remus and Harry had half a mind to try and curse Greyback. He'd heard that werewolves were like dragons and giants—too powerfully magical for most common jinxes to have much effect. Forcing himself to ignore the temptation to test that theory, he returned to debates with Greyback on how to best approach the packs safely.

~*~

For a few more hours they discussed tactics to approach the various packs, though Greyback spent a good portion of that time shooting Harry snide remarks about Remus, or being extremely reluctant to divulge anything he might consider a betrayal to his kin, such as weaknesses, strengths, or what werewolf magic actually was. Harry could understand the attitude easily enough—Greyback had to protect his own, and overall the wizarding world had given the man very little reason to trust them. Harry still found it frustrating, and he left that evening to escort Greyback back to his territory in a foul mood.

One suffocating trip later, Harry found himself in deep forest. Everything was warm and green, the ground was springy and soft with moss and grass, and thick, tall trees surrounded them. The sunlight could not completely break through the canopy, and the light played across the path he stood in as shaded, dappled green light. Harry could hear the gentle babble of a brook nearby, and the sound of birdsong on the air. The sight of it stirred within Harry a distinct sensation of unease, because he'd seen this forest before—for the last seven nights in his dreams.

He was given very little time to ponder this, as the moment they'd appeared a voice cried out, “Stay where you are!”

A tall, broad man came running forward, crashing through the underbrush at alarming speed as he tore towards them. He had wavy, shoulder-length dark brown hair and dark eyes, and he was a scant few inches shorter than Greyback was—though not by much. Harry noted that he was dressed similarly to Greyback in a dark, tattered jean jacket over a smooth bare chest, and black cutoff jeans that ended in a frayed hem just above the knee. He was barefoot, and seemed to feel no discomfort as he tore across the forest floor towards them with a wand raised and pointed at them.

“Identify yourselves!” He roared and as he came into view, and Greyback stepped forward to shield Harry from being cursed, a move which caused Harry's mouth to drop open in surprise. Greyback was the last person he'd ever expect to protect a wizard.

“Ulrich!” Greyback roared, and the man skidded to a halt, his eyes wide with shock. “Do you not recognize your own Alpha?” His voice rumbled in warning, and while the werewolf called Ulrich continued to stare as though he was seeing a ghost. Harry realized as he watched the exchange that this must be the Beta Greyback had mentioned earlier, and he could see why the man was second-in-command. The werewolf practically radiated power, and as the other werewolf stared at Greyback, his gaze shifted to Harry for a split second. He did not like the way the man's eyes roved over him, and Harry struggled to keep his expression neutral. The Beta's eyes snapped back to Greyback, and he glared.

“How do I know you're really Fenrir? And who's the Phelan?” the man's voice shook a little, and he threw back his shoulders and stood tall, clearly trying to appear intimidating despite his clear unease that he may have made a mistake in drawing a wand on his Alpha. Harry glared at the pet name; he didn't know what it meant, but he was certain that it was something belittling. Greyback snorted at his Beta, clearly amused that he'd dare question his identity.

“This is Harry Potter, (Ulrich's eyes immediately raked Harry's hairline)he is an ally—of sorts. As for me...” Greyback smirked, and before Harry knew what was happening, the werewolf had shed his clothes and threw them aside, and shifted smoothly into the form of an enormous black wolf, with a distinctive streak of grey down his back. Harry was amazed by the creature's size, and he understood at once why Greyback would scoff at Harry 'choosing' Remus. By size comparison, Greyback's wolf form made Remus's look like a Pekingese.

The enormous creature took a running leap at Ulrich, and with a nasty snarl pinned him to the ground, his deadly-sharp teeth at his throat. They both landed with an almighty crash, and Greyback seemed to have put his entire weight into the manoeuvre. Harry cringed on the Beta's behalf—that had to have hurt.

Instead of the groans of pain Harry expected to hear, he heard uproarious laughter. Ulrich was released and he turned his head, showing his throat to the creature, and in an instant the wolf shifted back into a very naked Fenrir Greyback. Greyback stood with a smirk, and helped the other man to his feet. They embraced in a brotherly hug, and Harry felt uncomfortably out of place—as though he was intruding on a private familial moment.

“You're back,” Ulrich said, panting a little from the attack, but otherwise appeared unruffled at being pounced on by a bear-sized wolf. “I can't believe it. We all thought you were lost to us when...”

“I would have been,” Greyback said as he turned slightly, seemingly unashamed of his nakedness, and smirked at Harry, “Mr Potter was able to secure an early release for me—conditionally, of course,” Greyback stepped back and squeezed Ulrich's shoulder, then strode towards Harry and gathered the clothing he'd discarded. He moved slowly and watched Harry with the same leering expression he'd worn for a good portion of the day, and Harry turned his head away to give Greyback a little privacy while he dressed, though the man seemed entirely unashamed by his nakedness. Harry heard the other werewolf laugh, and turned back only when Greyback had pulled his clothes back on. Unfortunately, when Harry had refocused his attention on the werewolf, he found him standing uncomfortably close to him.

Harry tried to scramble out of reach, but this time he wasn't as lucky. Greyback's arm shot out, and his fingers closed around Harry's throat, squeezing lightly. He dragged Harry close and turned his head to the side, making Harry to show him his throat in a motion of forced submission. “I meant what I said,” Greyback purred softly, his breath tickling Harry's exposed skin; he shuddered with revulsion at the man's close proximity. “When you wish it, I will gladly turn you,” He released Harry with a cold laugh, and pushed him back slightly, just hard enough to make Harry stumble. He managed to keep his feet, and watched as Greyback turned and joined the other werewolf, the pair disappearing into the shadows of the trees.

A/N: Phelan is a Gaelic name meaning little wolf. It's sometimes spelled 'Felan'.
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Lunaticus Book One: Half Moon