Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Distance In Your Eyes	By : Pfeifenkraut Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Fenrir Views: 30080 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 8
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Chapter List
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3. The Escape

Harry had no idea how long he had already been away from his family.

The rising and setting of the sun had begun to merge with each other as soon as he had slipped into unconsciousness for the first time, so he had lost count of the past days. Hours and days had flown by while he had been drifting at the edge of awareness, never completely awake, but never exactly asleep, either, falling victim to the fever his wound caused.

The rare times he had been awake had been very uncomfortable for him.

Being constantly supervised by a set of vicious amber eyes took its toll on his psyche. They even followed him into his feverish dreams, controlling most of them with an evil glare directed his way.

It crept him out to no end!

Nervousness, though, was the least of his feelings he felt towards those unsettling and insane eyes.

He felt literally naked, defenceless, under the close surveillance of the cold beast. Instincts were all that mattered to the werewolf, Harry just knew it. One look into Greyback's mad eyes told him that he was mentally shredding Harry to pieces, enjoying the still warm blood running out of Harry's torn off body parts and the human flesh on his tongue.

It didn't help any that he was wrapped into thick furs which were holding him down. If Greyback decided to attack him then Harry had no time to react at all. They only increased his feelings of vulnerability and insecurity next to the huge man.

Harry's fingers itched to close around his wand, but he knew it wasn't with him... It would be the only thing that would stand between Greyback and his own death. And as far as he knew it had been the beast who had taken it away from him. After all, who else should have come here and taken it if not the monster itself? Harry didn't think that Greyback would allow anyone or anything to enter his territory without his permission.

The boy-who-lived cursed his luck. Of course he met Greyback when the beast's mind was somewhat rational! Otherwise he wouldn't have taken Harry's wand! He had to have realized that it was Harry's only defence against him. Just his fucking luck! Why just couldn't something go his way? At least once in his life?

Without it he had not even the slightest chance to protect himself. It was like presenting himself to Greyback on a silver platter! There was nothing he could do if the werewolf wanted to harm him in any way. He was at his mercy!

And honestly, who would believe in their right mind that Greyback would just sit by and do nothing? Especially with a chance this easy?

Damn it! His life just couldn't get any worse!

Then again if Voldemort appeared at the entrance of the cave out of nowhere...

Mentally, Harry snorted. He just couldn't think of Voldemort stepping so low and enter a cave. The image was just so... strange...

He was, of course, aware of Greyback not attacking or hurting him yet, but that didn't have to mean anything. The fact that he had approached him occasionally to change the bandage around his neck didn't mean anything, either! He still didn't trust that monster!

After all, Greyback wasn't one of the most feared men for nothing!

The bastard had killed little children! Ripped them apart! Turned them just for the fun of it! He had destroyed and still destroyed normal lives and families on purpose! He didn't have anything akin to a conscience at all and he most certainly didn't feel regret!

This knowledge did nothing to improve Harry's mood. He had never felt so helpless before, not at the Dursleys' or when he had faced all these evil creatures. His current situation was completely different from everything he had ever experienced before in all his past years.

At the Dursleys' he had always known that there would be an end to it, either the summer break or Dudley tiring of bullying him. He had faced down the Basilisk and even then he had known at some point that he wasn't alone. His friends were close by to take care of him – dead or alive – and that had reassured him in fighting the enormous snake.

But now …

There was no Dumbledore to send the sword of Griffindor, there was no Fawkes to heal his wounds, there were no protective wards. He was cut off the outside world.

It was hopeless. He was going to die in this pathetic cave or rot away in some undetectable place.

The Order would never find him alive.

There was no chance he would ever see his friends again.

Their smiling faces. Their happiness radiating off of them when being hugged by him...

He tried to picture them, how they would find him and rescue him for once. But he failed completely. He couldn't imagine them! They were only blurred silhouettes in his feverish mind.

Rubbing over his face in hopes of suppressing his sad thoughts he noticed the wetness on his cheeks. Confused, he held his hand in front of his eyes to study it and realized that it were tears. He hadn't cried since he had been a little boy! And even then only if his aunt and uncle couldn't see him or they would become even angrier at him than before!

Desperately attempting to prevent the tears from streaming down his cheeks he tried to think positively.

He was not that alone, he had his friends, and the Weasleys, and Ginny, he scolded himself. But the lump forming in his throat only tightened more while his mind supplied blurry images of the rare happy moments in his life.

It was useless. He could also just … just … damn it! He didn't know!

He didn't dare to continue that line of thought. His situation was pointless!

Desperation claimed his heart. The darkness of his thoughts was overwhelming, squashing every light that was about to form in his mind. His body, heavy with sadness and hopelessness, refused to cooperate with his mind which berated him not to lose his spirit. But even if he calmed himself, Harry knew that it was for naught. Greyback would kill him no matter what. There was no way out for him!

His heart ached painfully in his chest, making breathing and thinking hard. Clutching the soft furs tighter around him he cried until darkness gladly took his exhausted mind to another place.

Deeply immersed in his foggy mind, he barely noticed a hand on his forehead, carefully caressing it. Warmth emitted from the appendage, spreading through his whole body, fending off the darkness and alleviating some of his painful thoughts. It cut right through his distress, chasing it away. A soothing scent reached his nostrils, fighting his torment.

He did not know what could be strong enough to overpower his torture, but at the moment he did not care, for he was drifting back into an untroubled slumber, two glowing ambers the only thing that remained in his mind.

XXXXXXXXXXX

A loud smash startled Harry wide awake, tearing through the peaceful night. Not knowing what had just happened he did not dare to open his eyes and instead strained his ears to get a better perception of the situation. He held his breath and tried hard not move a muscle so he wouldn't give himself away. His heart was pounding in his chest, sending adrenaline rushing through his body. The pulsing blood in his ears almost overwhelmed his sense of hearing, but he could still make out a deep growling and heavy footsteps moving around.

What had that been?

Was there somebody in his close proximity?

Cautious not to make a sound he moved the thick fur aside to take a peek into the darkness. Only a few rays of light illuminated the black cave. Obscure shadows moved over the cold stone walls, resembling the branches of the thick trees which were swaying in the wind outside of the cave. His eyes focused on one corner nearby the entrance and widened when he spotted a tall man that could only be Greyback. Funnily enough one of his arms was extended, his fist connecting with a dent in the wall. Swallowing Harry double-checked what he was witnessing.

Was it really possible? No...

Greyback couldn't be that strong!

...Could he?

No. The idea was preposterous. No one could be that strong! It was just NOT POSSIBLE!

A feral snarl disrupted Harry's amazement. His eyes widened in fear and he became terrified as the deep, guttural, animalistic sound vibrated through his body, horrifying his every cell. Harry had no idea what had happened to upset the beast so, but he knew that Greyback was more than dangerous in this state.

But if Harry was lucky the monster wouldn't notice his presence. However, that didn't change the fact that danger radiated off of Greyback in waves.

Harry didn't even have to do anything for Greyback to murder him without reason, acting on his mood! He could kill him at any given moment!

Volatile couldn't even begin to fathom Greyback's moods! One moment he was calm and didn't seem to be able to harm an innocent flower, the next he was wreaking havoc and made a blood bath! And now he was pacing and coursing like a drunken sailor!

It was only a matter of time until one of those moods struck and the beast would either bring him to Voldemort or kill him on the spot.

Although "kill him on the spot" meant suffering a painful and slow death in Greyback's terms...

Damn it! He had to get out of here before either of these two options could happen! Otherwise not only the wizarding world would be screwed but he as well! And to be honest he didn't want to die at the delicate age of sixteen!

XXXXXXXXXXX

Inwardly, Fenrir seethed.

The bastard had been bugging him for days! Who did Voldemort think he was? His fucking lapdog?

Damn the sucker! He had his own tasks to do and couldn't execute all of Voldemort's orders!

But nonetheless the bastard thought he would listen to his every whim! Fenrir wasn't even an official member! After all, he didn't bear the Dark Mark. He was too strong to submit himself to such a nut job like the so called Dark Lord. He had his pride damn it. And there was no way in hell that he would bow, grovel at the "Lord's" feet or kiss the his filthy robe.

Not. A. Fucking. Chance!

Voldemort and him were more like business partners. Every now and then they would do each other a favour by – ah they had such a pretty expression for it, he couldn't suppress a smirk tugging at his lips – "disposing of a public nuisance". That meant eliminating irritating people on the one side – most of the time that was Fenrir and his pack's job – and on the other side supporting the other financially, politically or in which ever other way that existed – usually that was Voldemort's part in return for Fenrir's services.

And Voldemort tended to do as little as possible...

In fact they were merely tolerating each other to some extent, always considering the advantages beforehand and if there was the slightest chance of a disadvantage existing in their bargain, they ignored the freshly given job completely.

The only thing he really appreciated about Voldemort was that he allowed Fenrir and his pack members to revel in the flesh of humans, hunting where they wanted without being afraid of an attack of those pathetic wand-wavers.

And now he was annoying the hell outta him! The bastard wanted to talk to him and hadn't stopped activating that stupid ring that would tell Fenrir that Voldemort wanted something!

Fenrir, however, had ignored the call up until now.

What was the bastard thinking? That he would come whenever he called? What if Fenrir had pack problems to deal with? He certainly wouldn't come then! His pack was his first priority.

Then again, Voldemort had never understood that little fact and demanded his immediate attention, no matter what...

Not that the bastard had gotten it...

However, there was no way to ignore the pushy bastard any longer. What a pain in the arse! His patience was already wearing thin. Who did Voldemort think he was? The king or something? He snorted inwardly. The image of Voldemort with a crown on his head and a mace in his hand was just too amusing.

He would go to him and see what his fucking problem was!

Although Fenrir had already a pretty good idea...

Stroking one last time over the pup's forehead he went to the exit of the cave.

The little one would survive some hours without him, even though Fenrir hated to leave him. No predator would dare to enter this cave because Fenrir's scent was too heavy in the air, indicating that he would kill anything that plundered in his cave.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Right now seemed to be the perfect moment to escape because Greyback had disappeared. Who knew where to and who knew when he would come back. Maybe this would be Harry's only chance to flee.

He just couldn't let his future be in the hands of some maniacs. There was no way he would die like this! They had been ruling his whole life. Now he could at least choose how he would take his leave!

Steadying himself on the stony surface of the cave wall, he carefully got to his feet. Setting one foot in front of the other he was slowly moving towards the entrance of the cave. Every step was taken with great effort, sweat had already broken out all over his body.

Stopping for a moment to get back his bearings he looked around. He was only halfway to the entrance and he was already this exhausted. Gasping for air he slid down the wall of the cave.

There was no way he could make it! Even if he got outside and felt the sun tingle his skin, he would be too tired to make a run for it. And then the werewolf would most likely catch him. And then...

He stopped thinking about these dark thoughts abruptly. It didn't help his motivation any if he got himself all depressive. With an attitude like this there was no way he would make it! And if he didn't make it he, Ron, Hermione, his friends, Hogwarts, Ginny and everything that was dear to him would be lost! He couldn't let that happen!

Besides he hadn't even tried to escape yet! If he didn't try he would never know if he would've managed! And if he remained in the cave he would be dead in a few days anyway – or even hours for that matter!

There wouldn't be an opportunity like this again! Pushing himself up onto unsteady legs he set his mind on reaching the light shining in through the entrance of the cave. He took hesitant steps forwards in the direction of the exit, slowly approaching it. Stumbling into the light, he blinked and once his eyes were focused he was frightened by what he saw.

XXXXXXXXXXX

"Why has that taken so long?" Voldemort sneered, baring his teeth, red eyes glowing as if to intimidate him. Fenrir wasn't a person to react very well to such impertinent behaviour especially if it could be considered almost a provocation.

Growling at the gathered arse kissing, unworthy lackeys, he was very satisfied as they cowered in fear and – dare he say it – he could even smell some of them having pissed themselves.

"A good evening to you as well." Fenrir mumbled vexed, being the only one able to hear it.

He had just arrived and he was already being bitched at. Maybe Voldemort had to get laid. So the Death Eaters weren't good for anything after all...

Silently gritting his teeth, he contemplated if he could just rip him to pieces for his rude behaviour. The pleasure and satisfaction would be endless! He would no longer have to bear with Voldemort's moods and orders... That would definitely be a plus.

Without him around Fenrir wouldn't be bound to some crazy maniac any longer, he wouldn't have to listen to the bastard's endless bickering, and he definitely wouldn't have to carry out some stupid orders. He would be his own master again – not that Voldemort was his master, but that stupid bastard thought so and thus meddled with his life.

It would be so easy it almost wouldn't be worth it. After all, Fenrir loved to play with his prey... and Voldemort would never anticipate an attack like that.

He would ram his canines into the so called Dark Lord's – uuhhh, he was so afraid – throat and rip it out, spilling his filthy blood!

His wolf yearned for him to subdue Voldemort and show him who of them both was the alpha!

"I had issues to take care of." Fenrir finally answered.

The faces of the attending Death Eaters would be so beautiful, distorted in shock, helplessness, confusion and most importantly fear!

Oh they would smell so magnificently beautiful!

"What issues?" Voldemort asked impatiently, his fingers drumming on the armrest of the distasteful chunk of wizard made furniture.

The wizarding world would be beyond itself! It would have a field day!

Fenrir could already imagine the head line!

'Thought-to-be loyal Death Eater kills He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named viciously! Where is the Boy-Who-Lived?"

Immediately his raging thoughts stopped at the mentioning of his mate.

He was not alone any longer. Not that he had ever been alone because of his pack. But now he had a mate. A mate and a pack were completely different things.

A mate was something to cherish, a pack something to look after.

A mate was something to take care of, a pack something to supervise.

A mate was something to provide for, a pack something to guide.

A mate was something to love, a pack something to like.

A mate was something to die for, a pack something to protect.

He had to get out of here somehow without getting killed. Because even if the possibility of him getting killed was almost next to none existent he couldn't think that way any longer.

"Has it something to do with Potter?" Voldemort sneered, disrupting Fenrir's ramblings.

Startled out of his thoughts – he didn't show it to the outside, though – he stared at the bastard.

How should he reply to that? One wrong answer and he had to deal with a bunch of stick swinging arseholes, closing in on him and being the most annoying menaces he had ever faced.

Damn it, he hated this! How the hell did he even know about that incident? After all, Voldemort wouldn't refer to this if he hadn't a clue what had happened that fateful night, right?

"What do you mean?" Fenrir finally replied in a gruff voice.

Voldemort's fingers tightened around the armrest and he snarled, "Bellatrix told me about what has happened at the place of these filthy blood traitors. You attacked what is rightfully MINE!"

His? HIS? What was that bastard thinking? The little one wasn't Voldemort's! He was Fenrir's!

Damn it! How DARE he? How the FUCKING HELL dare he? Oh he so longed to close his fingers around the bloody fucker's fragile throat and throttle him until he slipped into oblivion. But even then he wouldn't stop! He would tighten his hold so that the delicate neck snapped under the strong pressure.

But he knew he fucking couldn't!

Trying to calm himself down – however, his anger still seethed near the surface – he berated himself. He had to treat carefully! He couldn't kill him! Not with so many potential enemies around!

"The brat was rescued before I could do anything... dreadful... to him." Fenrir gritted out through clenched teeth.

Sometimes he really HATED having ever allied himself with Voldemort.

What had him driven back then anyway? He must have been nuts giving in to his pathetic instincts! Honestly! He could live without tearing humans apart! Deer would do just fine!

Why couldn't the magical worms have let them live in peace? It would have been so much easier if Fenrir and his pack had been ignored! But no! They had to have been sought out! And Fenrir and his stupid urges hadn't been able to resist the delicious offer!

"Oh, couldn't little wolfy do his job righty?" Bellatrix chanted. She sat on the floor next to the bastard's throne. It almost seemed as if she wanted to be petted by him. Dim-witted dog...

"Wasn't wolfy trained appropriately?" She asked in a condescending manner. Her boobs were nearly falling out of her tight corset while a bold tongue darted out of its slightly parted cavern to wet full, blood red lips in a, what she thought, seductive way. Fenrir's skin crawled in disgust at the sight. The feeling wasn't lessened when her big eyes ravaged his body, gaze shining with bright and utter lust.

Fucking bitch! She was almost as worse as Voldemort himself! She grated on his nerves!

"But then again little wolfy is a stupid little doggy that doesn't know anything at all." She continued.

Fenrir twitched.

No, he could NOT bite out her throat. Voldemort wouldn't be amused. But she was SO FUCKING ANNOYING the hell out of him! Her only purpose in doing this was to get the bastard's approval so he would fuck her! What a bitch in heat! Fenrir could smell it! Another reason why she was presenting herself like this! She hoped the snake-like bastard would finally notice her! As if! The maniac hadn't done that during the last war and he certainly wouldn't do so now!

He wanted to KILL her!

Smirking arrogantly in Bellatrix's direction, he turned to Voldemort and showed his sharp canines.

"Shall I retrieve the boy?"

"You better hurry." Voldemort hissed angrily.

Fenrir's smirk widened, giving him an even more dangerous and vicious appearance.

"As you wish." He paused, looking disdainfully into the crowd and finally added a drawled, "My Lord."

Examining his claws, he continued with malice, "In one piece, I assume?"

"Of course, you-" Voldemort started furious, but Fenrir interrupted him. "Then I shall retreat."

Without waiting another second he disapparated.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Harry had no idea where he was. The thick forest in front of him did not ring a single bell inside of his mind. The trees standing close to one another, reaching for him with their strong branches, were intimidating and not really inviting.

But there was nothing to prevent him from having to take the dive if he wanted to get away from here, from Greyback.

Staying was not an option! That meant he would sooner or later be taken to Voldemort. That was, if the beast wouldn't take care of him himself.

Harry's eyes widened in horror at the images his mind provided him with.

Voldemort laughing while standing over his dead corpse. Greyback's mouth full with Harry's flesh, feasting on his mangled body.

No, staying was definitely NOT an option!

So he heaved his battered body forwards, as fast as he could, and entered the forest.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Night had already fallen on the forest where his current hideout was located in, the tender light of the moon caressing the tops of the trees, bathing them in soft silver tones. The stars were illuminating the path Fenrir was currently walking on, deeply immersed in his thoughts.

Who the fucking hell did that bitch think she was?

And moreover who the fucking hell did that pimp think he was?

As if he would ever hand over his most precious possession! He may be mad but not out of his friggin' mind!

Huffing, he leant his forehead against a tree, his eyes closed, while he tried to calm down and think rationally. In an attempt to get rid of his frustrations, he raked his claws into the hard bark and crushed it in the process.

Maybe it was finally time to change alliances. After all Lupin had survived for years on their side. That meant they couldn't be that bad. The only bad thing about joining them was that he had to refrain from harming humans – meaning he couldn't change, seriously harm, kill or eat them. Too bad, but his mate wouldn't like him eating his friends. It would be hard in the beginning not to play with the humans but with time it would be worth it. His mate would reward him beautifully for his restraint!

The biggest plus point was that he would be at his mate's side, kicking Voldemort's arse. And as soon as the fucker would be dead Fenrir would stand over Voldemort's corpse and laugh – superiorly.

His white teeth shone in the darkness as a smirk crossed his features.

And after all that was done he would finally have his mate all to himself. He wouldn't share him with the world any longer! He was his. His!

When they were all to themselves he would take him again as if he were still a virgin. Because honestly, who would think that Harry would be still one at the point of Voldemort's death? No one could resent him for wanting to deflower his mate as soon as the little one was up to it, right? It was already very hard for Fenrir not to give in to his instincts and take him! And if they did resent him then their eyes were blind! They had to be stupid not to see his mate's beauty!

When it was finally time he would lay him down gently on Fenrir's pile of furs, covering him in his scent to soothe his mate's erratic mind. The pup's nervousness would fly away at his tender touches, eliciting soft mewls of appreciation while Fenrir's tongue would map out his heavenly body.

Sitting down in front of the tree, knees spread and forehead still leaning against the bark, Fenrir hastily opened his trousers to give room to his already hardened cock.

He imagined his mate's sensitive skin quivering under his skilful hands as they ghosted over the unmarked flesh, evoking goosebumps all over the little one's body.

Fenrir's hand wandered down his own and caressed taunt stomach muscles, which were twitching under his attention and then moved even lower.

He would suck on his little one's nubs until they were perky and damp with Fenrir's saliva whilst the little one's arse would be kneaded with care.

One of his own hands closed in around his cock while the other twirled his already hard nipples.

As soon as Fenrir would be sure that the little one's pleasure would be enough to distract him from anything, he would start preparing that oh so tight entrance of his mate. First, he would playfully stroke over the pucker until it would twitch with desire. Then one of his fingers would carefully push into that virgin channel, stretching it as thoroughly as possible. He would wait out every painful tremor that would run through his mate, searching for the spot that let his little mate scream for him to fuck him.

Wetting his thumb with saliva he gently fingered the tip of his dick, pulling back the foreskin and fondling the sensitive head.

Thrusting into the little one several times more with his digits, Fenrir would coat his member with his own pre-cum and would finally exchange his fingers with his cock so that he would sink into the marvellous warmth that was purely his mate.

Running his hand down his penis with sure and powerful strokes, he threw his head back and came, howling at mother moon.

Oh the bliss...! He could already imagine it! Their sweet joining under mother moon! They would stay entangled for the rest of the night, Fenrir not letting go of his mate. He would claim him as often as possible so that the little one knew where he belonged. Knew that he was his. Knew that nobody else was allowed to touch him.

She would bless their mating, of that he was sure. After all, she had already witnessed his declaration of potency.

Staring at his cum with distant eyes, he licked and savoured the flavour of it, imagining it to be the little one's. His impatience rose at the knowledge that the pup was NOT up for it. But nevertheless he silently continued to long for it.

Disappointed, he sighed and leaned his head back against the bark of the tree and looked at the dark night sky. The almost none existent moon was torturing him because that meant that the pup's first full moon was far away. He had to restrain himself up until then because the little one wouldn't be up for ANYTHING of that sort until the werewolf gift had changed him completely.

Mating of werewolves could be rather rough so if the little one still suffered from severe injuries it could backfire his healing process.

Sighing again, Fenrir stood up, closed his trousers and carried on with his walk to the cave.

He couldn't wait to reach his destination and be back together with his mate. Fenrir felt somewhat restless without him around. Probably because he had developed a protective streak for the little pup.

Technically, the little one wouldn't be his mate until his first full moon. Up until then he would remain Fenrir's pup.

However, that didn't stop him from already thinking of the little one as his mate. After all, who would be crazy enough to challenge Fenrir Greyback, the Alpha of Great Britain's werewolf population's claim over another werewolf? As far as Fenrir was concerned, nobody would, at least not if they hadn't a death wish.

And now the fucker had demanded he bring the little one to him! As if! He would die before he did anything like that!

Fenrir was proud of himself. He hadn't lost his composure in front of the bastard! A feat for Fenrir. After all, he wasn't known for his patience in the wizarding world. And his little mate would be so proud of him for not having lost his patience, too! Thus he would have to reward Fenrir nicely.

Mating wouldn't be an option. But nothing spoke against a proper snogging session, right?

A smirk crept onto Fenrir's features and his cock gave a twitch.

He would have to pleasure himself again manually afterwards... But it would be definitely worth it!

Losing himself in his thoughts, the remaining distance flew by in no time and he stopped in front of his cave.

The light that fell onto it threw strange shadows, illuminating it in a strange way.

Immediately, he was on his guard. Something wasn't quite right.

Sniffing around, he wasn't able to smell anything that could have disrupted his mate.

But still, something was strange.

He entered the cave, careful not to make a sound, both to not startle his mate awake and not to give himself away to any trespasser that might be there.

Scanning the cave, he was slowly moving towards the pile of furs. Nobody was here, so why did the air feel so strange?

Then it hit him. There was no soft heartbeat his over-sensitive ears caught, and his mate's scent that should be heavy in the air, clouding his mind, was only a distant reminder of what it had been before.

Dread washed over him while he strode towards the furs in record time. Hastily pulling them away, he was faced with nothing.

The bed was empty.

Roaring, Fenrir reeled back, his eyes turning an even deeper amber than before, his wolf coming to the forefront. Hunching over some, his canines elongated while his claws sharpened, itching to kill and spill blood, feeling the soft touch of breaking flesh underneath his hands.

Where was his mate? Where was the little one's abductor? He would kill the bastard on the spot! And everybody that was with him! He would not spare anybody! They would all suffer for kidnapping his mate!

Blood would spill in rivulets, drenching the poisoned floor they had walked on red! Flesh would fly, tinting the air crimson with lifeblood that spilled from the flesh! Intensities would be ripped out, dirtying the ground a muddy colour! Cries of pain would be filling the air, telling of torture and death!

A tiny voice stilled his oncoming rampage.

He couldn't smell any intruder who could have taken his mate away.

What did that mean?

His wolf-induced mind had trouble adding up the details, but as soon as it grasped the meaning, another vicious howl ripped through the night.

His mate had fled, of his own accord!

Fenrir wouldn't stand for it! He would get him back, and once he had found him, he would claim him, his mate's injuries be damned!

Sniffing the air, he followed his mate's shallow scent leaving the cave.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Harry hurried through the thick forest as fast as his injured body let him. Adrenaline pumping through his system, the boy-who-lived didn't notice the pain his still not healed wounds caused his body or the fever building.

Not caring for branches scratching his cheeks, ripping his arms and legs, he continued running frantically while dodging trees and bushes as best as possible.

He was exhausted beyond belief but he didn't dare to stop and make a pause. The fear and panic cursing inside of him wouldn't let him take a rest. The boy was too terrified of the thought of Greyback already on his heels, having found his trail and tracking him down. If that was the case then Harry was doomed because the werewolf was faster and in a better state than him.

He was sure that as soon as the beast found him he would show no mercy and this time kill him at once. But not the kind of mercy of a fast and painless death, no! Greyback would surely tear him apart limb by limb, revel in the splashing blood and Harry's pained cries of agony while torturing him slowly to death. He could even imagine the monster taking huge chunks of flesh out of his still living body, the white teeth turning red with Harry's blood as the malicious grin on his features widened at the boy's anguish.

Suddenly Harry's vision blurred and he stumbled.

While trying to regain his balance he stumbled again and fell against the rough bark of a tree, hitting the back of his head.

For a short moment he lost consciousness.

As soon as he emerged from the blackness surrounding his mind, fear pushed him back onto his feet.

He couldn't allow his body to get the better of him! Now was not the time!

If Greyback caught him he would be done for!

Stumbling forwards he held onto trees and branches on his way through the woods, afraid to fall again and not be able to stand back up again.

His sky-rocking fever and the blood he lost from his recently acquired head wound didn't stop his escape.

However, soon he was wandering aimlessly through the forest, losing count of the passing hours as he fell deeper into his fever-induced mind.

He didn't care where he went as long as he got away from Greyback.

Right now he would prefer the death at the hands of Voldemort than at the hands of Greyback. At least with Voldemort he would get a fast and smooth death unlike with Greyback.

With Greyback it would be long and gruesome. Something he would rather do without if he could.

But as it seemed fate appeared to be against him.

It seemed to want to torture him as much as possible.

Harry had no idea what he had done to deserve this, either in this life or a previous one, but it was no use complaining.

The only thing to prevent something like that from happening was by taking his fate into his own hands and not letting it rule his life.

And Harry intended to do just that. That was the reason why he couldn't simply give up!

He had to continue moving no matter what!

And just as he thought his situation couldn't get any worse, Harry felt the first tender touches of raindrops on his heated forehead.

Great, just great. How often did it happen that it rained during summer break?

It was just his luck to get the one FUCKING day it rained!

Why did fate hate him that much? What had he done?

Moments later the few raindrops had developed into a real downpour, soaking him to the bone and worsening his fever.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Fenrir had been following his mate's track for quite some time now. Clouds had appeared and darkened the night even further. Every now and then he would smell some blood, entering his sensitive nose and producing another rush for him – adrenaline or arousal, he didn't ponder too much about it.

The little beast had dared to run away! That wouldn't go by unpunished. Even if they weren't mates yet, Fenrir was still the little one's alpha and he had disobeyed an indirect order!

He hadn't said it out loud but wasn't it obvious that the pup had to stay put? Especially in his condition?

His paws increased their speed, catapulting his wolf-form even faster through the forest and closer to his delinquent mate.

Damn it all! A little spanking would do the pup some good! It would teach him obedience! Fenrir wouldn't go easy on him just because he was his mate! He couldn't be lenient on him!

The strokes to the little one's arse would be sufficient. After all, Fenrir hadn't been known for his mercy. The little one could be happy if he was still able to sit properly afterwards!

And if the little one did it right, he might be able to appease his alpha.

If the pup's moans of regret were loud enough Fenrir might stop the punishment earlier than intended.

And when the little one's bottom was all nice and red, he would plunder him, plunge into the velvety-

He stopped in his tracks, coming to a halt in front of a particularly large amount of blood.

While he had been ranting and raging, he had completely forgotten the most important fact.

His mate was injured, badly.

He couldn't do any of these things, at least not to the degree he wanted to.

First and foremost, he had to find his mate and gauge his condition. He would have to nurse him back to health before anything about his behaviour could be done.

Taking in the air surrounding him, he again scented his mate and started hunting for him, purposely ignoring his partly hardened length that stood out of his thick, silvery fur.

He hadn't been running for a long time when suddenly a raindrop fell onto his sensitive nose, sending a shiver through his entire body.

Looking up from the most recent tracks, he examined the sky above.

The clouds looked ominously murky, indicating more rain to come.

Cursing, he continued his search with even more vigour.

He knew that time was running short. As soon as the floor was muddy with water, it would almost be impossible for him to find his mate.

However, the downpour that greeted him was almost like a bad omen, hinting that fate was against him – mother moon couldn't do anything against something like this.

Her powers weren't as grand as fate's. She merely bestowed on the werewolves the gift of transforming into a wolf and the enhancement of their senses, nothing else.

Fenrir was already using all of her powers to his best ability, using the superior form of the wolf and taking advantage of its increased senses. Besides that she helped him using her glittery rays to enlighten his path every time fate seemed to leek every once in a while, breaking through the stormy clouds.

But still, he felt that he wasn't gaining way on his mate fast enough.

Dread filled him every time he found another puddle of blood, telling him that the little one would lie very soon somewhere, completely exhausted and easy prey for any predator that was on the hunt. The pup wouldn't be much of a challenge for anything that found him.

Increasing his pace he tried to ignore the fact that the rain slowed down his search considerably. It washed away his mate's scent and blood, covering his tracks. The small indents the little one's feet had made were slowly disappearing when the earth turned into mud.

Just his fucking luck that the weather decided to turn on him now of all times!

He wouldn't be able to follow his mate like this! In the state he had been in it was impossible for his mate to make a clear decision, so there was no pattern in the little one's escape. Often times he had been zig-zagging, doing circles or turning back.

Fenrir couldn't think of a path his mate could have taken like this. There was no logic behind it!

Damn the fucking rain! He wouldn't give up just because a little water was complicating his search! There was no fucking way in hell that he would let his mate escape! He had waited so long for him, he wouldn't let him go again!

When he was about to turn frantic, something caught his sharp amber eyes.

Jogging towards it, he recognized it as a piece of fabric that had been ripped off of something by a branch. Just to make sure he sniffed at it and identified his own scent with an undercurrent of his mate's.

The shirt the little one had been wearing had been one of his own that had been drenched in his dominant scent. The pup had been wearing it not long enough to change its scent permanently so it was only slightly present.

And this little piece had been all Fenrir had needed for his ambition to arise again.

Goal set, the strong wolf run off in the direction of some still existing – though very faint – footprints.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Harry was drenched to the core. His shirt had sponged the water to the last cell so it clung to his weakened body. It didn't repel the liquid any longer; instead it helped wetting his feverish skin. The black hair stuck to his head, the drops of water that dropped from his hair down his skin wasn't distinguishable from the rain running down his neck.

It had become harder for Harry to continue moving.

The ongoing rainstorm had worsened his condition. Now he didn't only feel feverish, his skin reddened and his forehead heated, he also felt even more weakened and his limbs had started shaking. Every now and then he hallucinated Greyback jumping at him from behind the next tree. Harry's eyes would widen, but his ability to respond had almost disappeared completely, so he stood rooted to the ground every time another image of the beast came at him.

Then again, the boy was happy that his reflexes seemed beaten because he wasn't sure he would be able to stand back up again once he evaded one of the imaginary Greyback's attacks.

But he knew it couldn't continue like this any more.

Almost all of his resources were empty, the fever not helping any.

If he didn't find a road or a human village soon he would break down and be easy prey for the monster.

Damn it all! Why was it so hard to move his legs all of a sudden? It hadn't been only moments ago! So why now of all times?

He felt anaemic and faint, his feet seeming intent on making him stumble and fall.

Leaning against another tree, he gasped for air. Breathless as he was, he held one of his hands in front of his eyes, noticing the visible shiver to it. He wasn't sure if it was because of the rain and the ensuing cold or because of the fever.

Neither options implied anything good. If it was the rain's fault, then his shivering was caused by serious hypothermia or if it was the fever's fault it was caused by serious overheating.

Who knew, if he was lucky, Harry snorted sarcastically, his fever would develop into pneumonia.

He could already see it come to pass. His doom would be settled then.

And then it happened. He stumbled, falling due to the malfunctioning of his senses. Crashing sidelong into the ground, his shoulder bearing the brunt of it, he got muddied all over.

For a moment he lied there, motionless, trying to overcome the pain the impact had inflicted on him. Furthermore his vision blurred because of the fast movement.

After everything had settled down again, he sat up and started laughing hoarsely at the irony. He had come out of the frying pan and directly into the fire!

His situation couldn't get any worse!

Blinking away the tears that were forming at the corners of his eyes he looked around, taking in his surroundings.

There were trees, and trees, and oh, a bush! And surprisingly, there were even more trees! And a rock! He couldn't believe it! The great diversity nature offered him was almost unbelievably high!

He was losing it. He was so losing his marbles.

Why else would he be accusing nature for being green and fucking in harmony?

He barely noticed the rain slowly dying down.

Still contemplating his state of mind – maybe he could lay the blame with the fever for his abstract thoughts? – something caught his attention.

Eyes widening, Harry couldn't believe his luck!

There was a road in front of him!

Why hadn't he noticed it before when he was examining the area? It would have spared him the degrading ramblings about nature and its workings!

It was a road in the middle of nowhere in a forest, but a road nonetheless!

Hobbling towards it – as much as his condition let him – he stopped at its side and looked down both ends of it, hoping to see a car approaching.

His mood sank as realization struck him.

The possibility of someone driving by by chance wasn't really high now, was it...?

What could he do?

Sitting down onto the forest's muddy floor he began thinking. It was hard for him to grasp a decent thought in his condition, but he forced himself to concentrate. If he didn't want to die he had to remain on topic. He could break down as soon as he was safely put away in his bed at Grimmauld Place.

Should he just wait here?

That would most likely mean his death.

Greyback would hunt him down and murder him in cold blood.

Even if he hadn't come back to the cave yet once he noticed Harry's absence he would go on a killing spree.

Besides that there was no question about who of them was the fitter one.

Subconsciously Harry began to rub his hurt feet.

They hadn't been used to a run through the rough forest, bare, and were torn open and bloody.

Luckily his neck wound had stopped bothering him for the moment.

So the logical answer was to keep on walking. The problem, however, was that he had to run – on his demolished feet! It would be pure torture!

One of his hands went to his forehead and felt his temperature.

The rain earlier on hadn't helped his fever any. His clothes were still damp and his body had problems fighting against the invading cold.

Then again he couldn't wait here for a car to appear. Who knew when the next one would come.

If he remained in one spot for too long Greyback was sure to find him and he couldn't let that happen.

The fever was still there but there was nothing he could do against it, at least not for now. Besides that he didn't allow himself to acknowledge the power the fever already had over his weakened body. If he were to do so he certainly would succumb to its strength. And right now wasn't the time for something like that. Otherwise he would become an even easier prey for Greyback.

His vision blurred when he stood up again. He winced because of the weight on his torn feet.

Damn it! His circulation was off due to the fever!

However, that was one of his smaller problems. He had to get away!

Resting for a moment longer he got his condition back under control.

When he was sure he could stand back up, he started a second attempt, not caring for the pain that sore through his batted feet.

He couldn't wait any longer! He had to get going NOW!

Ignoring his aching feet – really, he had suffered worse – he started walking alongside the road.

XXXXXXXXXXX

He could barely keep his eyes open.

He had been walking for a long time now, the first rays of the morning sun warming his back. Every now and then he stopped and looked for a vehicle in both directions. Not one single car or truck or anything AT ALL had shown up.

For a moment he stopped walking to catch his breath.

He was exhausted, completely exhausted!

The fever had weakened his already ill body and the lost blood of his feet, his recently acquired head wound, and his bled-through shoulder did their part.

He just knew that his body wouldn't make it for much longer. It wouldn't take much more and he would break down, sure to be found by Greyback.

There was no way he would give up now! He had managed so far, so why should he lose hope now?

He wouldn't give Greyback the satisfaction of passing out and being found by him, completely defenceless due to his fainted condition!

Getting his grip back around his iron will he started walking again but only a few steps later his gaze was pulled to the road by some light coming from behind.

Turning around his eyes widened.

A truck was driving rather fast into his direction.

That was his chance! His chance to escape Greyback!

Now to make the driver aware of his presence!

How to do that?

He could pull up some of his shirt, exposing a part of one of his thighs to entice the driver.

Inwardly, he snorted to himself. He could just imagine himself doing that.

And the success he would have! After all he was quite the appearance.

His hair plastered to his skull, damp from the rain earlier on but still greasy, his unhealthy skin with a white hue to it, no shoes and no trousers, but a shirt several sizes too big for him, hanging down to his knees, dirty from his escape through the forest and painted with blood from a bled through bandage.

That would just go over real smoothly...

Luckily some of the blood had been washed out of the shirt by the heavy rain.

Yes, his success would be enormous.

But then again, even if he tried to hitch-hike his chances were very low.

After all who would pick him up looking like this?

And considering his luck in the past few days, Harry knew that the gods were against him.

Nevertheless he tried it – the normal way with no pulling up his shirt and such nonsense.

Harry could be imagining things, but he thought that the truck slowed down some. His vision had been off so his doubts were justified.

Moments later, he realized that the truck did indeed slow down and it came to a stop right in front of him.

Was the driver serious? Was he really picking Harry up?

His eyes widened when the co-driver's door was opened.

He really was serious!

As far as Harry could see the driver had short blond hair and was rather bulky. Other than that his appearance seemed to be trustworthy – at least his foggy mind was telling him so.

"Need a ride?" The driver asked. His voice sounded quite pleasant.

"That would be nice." Harry replied.

Just now the driver seemed to notice Harry's state of dress.

"Why don't you wear any jeans?" He asked.

Harry's mind reeled.

What to say? How to respond? What to DO?

"I was attacked by a wolf, kidnapped by a murderer and held hostage for the last couple of days."

Was he stark raving MAD? The driver would think of him as a criminal! Or worse a nut-case!

He looked at Harry in a strange way, examined him and broke out into laughter.

"You're funny. Now what's the real reason?"

Embarrassed, Harry looked at his feet.

"I like cross-dressing."

Mentally, he slapped himself.

What was he TELLING that man? The driver had to think who knew what about him!

"In the... wilderness?" The driver asked disbelievingly.

"My friends and I got into a row when we were in the car. We were driving to our holiday place. They kicked me out of their car so now I'm trying to either get back home or to our holiday place."

He would never believe it, of that Harry was sure.

He had to be completely nuts to believe something like that!

Again, the driver laughed.

"I like you. Jump in."

Relieved, Harry got into the co-driver's seat.

He would get away from Greyback!

"I'm Bob, by the way."

"Harry."
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The Distance In Your Eyes