Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Path Less Traveled	By : bezo93 Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 16679 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 11
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor any of the characters. I do not make any money from this fic.

Chapter List
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“Is anyone sitting here?”
Startled, Harry’s head shot up, “Er, sorry?”
Standing behind the chair across from him was a huge man. Not quite Hagrid huge, but well over six feet tall and wider than most men. At least the short, brown-blonde hair made him look less wild than Hagrid, despite the huge muscles. And he was carrying an ice-cream. It is hard to look wild and fierce while carrying an ice-cream.
The man smiled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jump. Do you mind if I sit here?”
“Uh, yeah, sure. Sit down,” Harry stammered, watching in bemusement as the man sat down and put the ice-cream on the table.
Being seated did nothing to make the guy look smaller. He was easily twice, if not three times as wide as Harry, and the raven haired demon wouldn’t have been surprised if the stranger claimed to be able to bench-press a car. Even while the man was sitting down, all Harry could think was ‘huge’.
“Hi. I’m Timothy,” the man - Timothy - said, after a moment of awkward silence while Harry stared and tried not to stare at the same time.
“You’re a werewolf!” Harry blurted, then he blushed. “Sorry, that was rude. Er…I’m Harry.”
Timothy chuckled, but did glance around to see if anyone had overheard the exclamation. Werewolves had one of the worst reputations of all the Creature Races, and he didn’t particularly feel like being hounded out of Diagon Alley by irate wizards.
“It’s fine, just please try to avoid announcing it to the whole Alley. You know how pissy wizards get,” Timothy said, flicking up a low level silencing charm that would stop conversation being overheard, but wouldn’t block out loud noises.
Harry nodded wordlessly. He did have a good idea of how badly some wizards reacted to knowing there was a Creature in their vicinity, though he had never actually witnessed it for himself. Even if had not known, he was hardly going to deliberately make life difficult for a man who looked like he could crush him with one hand.
The silence stretched awkwardly again.
Harry tried to return his attention to the last of his Charms homework, but it was difficult to concentrate with a werewolf sitting across from him, watching him. It didn’t help that he had no idea why the werewolf had approached him. It could simply be an overeager potential mate who was disregarding etiquette and (very rudely) making his bid known before any competitors got a chance. The werewolf didn’t feel like an alpha though.
Admittedly, the only werewolves Harry had met before were hereditary werewolves who had yet to reach their majorities. He was fairly certain that Timothy was a bitten werewolf. However, even before their majority, an alpha had a distinctive feel to their magic that Timothy lacked. Unless bitten alphas felt different to hereditary ones. Harry wasn’t sure.
As the silence stretched, Harry couldn’t avoid his thoughts running to the werewolf packs that had joined Voldemort. Only two packs had allied with the mad wizard, and both had been denounced by the other werewolves and the ruling body of the were-community, but Harry could feel himself tensing as he contemplated the possibility that this werewolf was one of them. Not that it was likely that the local Creatures would tolerate the presence of a Creature who had defected to the Dark. Still, it would be just his kind of luck if…
“You can relax you know.” A dry voice broke into his thoughts. “I’m not going to do anything to you. My alpha would have my hide if he thought I was even contemplating harming an omega. I don’t even want to think about what my boss would do to me.”
“Oh. I, er, sorry. I didn’t really think you were going to do anything, I just…” Harry trailed off, ducking his head in embarrassment and fiddling with the end of his quill. Timothy chuckled.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m the strange werewolf who randomly sat down with you. I don’t blame you for thinking I’m not quite right in the head.”
Deciding that letting the werewolf believe Harry had been wondering about his mental stability was better than telling him that Harry had actually been wondering if he was a member of one of the outcast packs, Harry searched for a change of subject.
“So what pack are you from?”
“The Knockturn Pack. I was pretty lucky really, I was bitten by my alpha and was introduced to the pack straight away. I’ve never had to deal with the madness that affects lone wolves, and our pack has a sponsor, so the Boss employs anyone who needs work,” Timothy replied looking pleased that Harry was relaxing a little and talking, rather than sitting tensed like a deer waiting to be pounced on.
“You’re a beta then?” Harry half asked, half stated, trying not to let the relief show in his voice. The idea of any dominant or alpha approaching him so blatantly made him feel very uncomfortable. He may not be a great follower of rules but he would not consider a mate who ignored etiquette and forced their attentions on him in such a manner.
“You thought-? No! No. It’s no wonder you were getting so tense. No, I’m one hundred percent beta wolf. I thought you’d be able to tell, or I would said something,” Timothy reassured him hurriedly. “My alpha really would kill me if I started looking for a mate without permission. There’ll be no mating proposals from me, don’t worry.”
“I didn’t think you were an alpha but you are the first bitten werewolf I’ve met, and the first adult one. I wasn’t sure if that would make a difference to what I could sense from you or not,” Harry shrugged, feeling a little more confident now that they had something to talk about.
“It does make a difference but the presence of any alpha is pretty hard to mistake. Most of us bittens are betas, though. I don’t think there are any bitten alphas in Britain right now. No acknowledged ones, at least,” the giant werewolf finished darkly.
Sensing that they were straying towards an uncomfortable topic, Harry tried to steer the topic back to more neutral subjects.
“So you’re from an urban pack? I’ve only met a few cubs from a rural pack before. The last urban werewolf left Hogwarts the year before I started, I think. And it’s not often that-”
“-a wild pack will allow one of their cubs to be around so many wizards,” Timothy finished for him, nodding. “There haven’t been many cubs around recently, though numbers are starting to climb again. Most new wolves have been bitten, like me, so there’s been no need to ship them off to school. The omegas are only just beginning to feel safe enough to carry again since the war, so there’ll probably be a baby boom soon. Not that it makes a lot of difference to our pack. The alpha’s still unmated, so we won’t be seeing any cubs until that changes. You’ll be well out of Hogwarts before any new cubs are starting.”
Harry nodded with a grin. “I really don’t envy the House Leader in those years. Ours is run ragged just trying to keep a handle on us lot. My friends and I don’t help, we’ve already knocked years off Oliver’s life in just the two years we’ve been there.”
“You’re the school trouble maker?” Timothy asked dubiously as he gave Harry a once over. It wasn’t unheard of for a submissive to be rebellious but most didn’t usually actively seek out mischief, and Harry looked as innocent as they came. Which perhaps should have been the first clue that he wasn’t quiet, meek and obedient.
“I’m not sure about that. The competition for the title of Chief Trouble Maker is pretty stiff,” Harry laughed, thinking of the Weasley twins. “I think I hold the record for the most unique kinds of trouble to get into though. I have a knack for finding myself in weird, House points losing situations. Or points winning. It really seems to depend on how well I handle the trouble and who catches me.”
Timothy laughed, “I don’t envy your future mate. I bet you’re going to run them ragged.”
Harry smiled innocently. “I don’t go looking for trouble. It just finds me.”
“I’ll bet,” Timothy snorted. “So, you’re starting your third year? What options are you taking?”
“Care of Magical Creatures and Runes.”
“No Divination?” Timothy asked with a grin. “I’ve heard that the subject is easy and the professor is a real gem. She can predict anything, as long as it involves your immediate and dramatic suffering. A true gift to the world, that third eye of hers.”
“You took divination then?” Harry grinned as the werewolf shrugged.
“The subject is easy. And the mad old bat does wear enough jewellery to sparkle like a gem. Still not tempted?”
Harry shook his head, chuckling, “My friends are taking it, so they can do all the divining for me. Hermione is already scarily good at predicting what is going on, especially when it involves me or Ron getting into trouble. I’m not sure she needs extra lessons.”
“Speaking of teachers who are gems, is that History homework I see?” Timothy asked, tilting his head to get a better look at the parchment Harry had in front of him. “Is Binns still teaching?”
The raven haired demon groaned, “Please don’t. It’s bad enough having to sit through his lessons and do the homework, without talking about him as well. He’s a ghost, how does he even mark homework?!”
“He bribes Ravenclaw seventh years with extra credit to mark it for him,” Timothy answered without missing a beat.
“Really?”
“No idea, but that was the leading theory when I was at Hogwarts. Of course that would require him actually being aware that he has students, so maybe that’s not how he does it. House elves, maybe?” the werewolf mused, grinning at Harry.
“You went to Hogwarts? What House were you?”
“Hufflepuff. Keep all comments to yourself or I’ll put a badger in your bed and see how harmless you find them then,” Timothy threatened jokingly.
“The House of the Giant Mint Humbugs,” Harry grinned, recalling one of the Weasley twin’s more creative pranking efforts.
“The House of the what?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. I definitely don’t have pictures.”
“Pictures?” Timothy parroted, looking torn between confusion and amusement. “I’m not sure I want to know. You’re a Gryffindor, I’m guessing. House of the brave and bold and truly idiotic.”
“Oi! You forgot courageous and borderline suicidal,” Harry mock pouted, before nodding exaggeratedly. “Yep, the finest House in Hogwarts. The best quidditch team too.”
“Do you play?”
“Absolutely. I’ve been Gryffindor’s seeker since my first year,” Harry said proudly. “At first I thought I was going to be kicked out or put into detention until I was forty for chasing a classmate and making a steep dive the first time I’d ever even held a broom. Completely threw me when I was told that I was on the House team.”
“Chaser. I didn’t join until my third year, and nearly got myself knocked out in my first match…”
The conversation quickly moved from House teams, to professional teams and bickering over which teams were best (“The Magpies, really? They were flattened last season. 670-290 in their last match, how could you even stand to look at their colours?”), which teams they both agreed weren’t worth the brooms they flew on (“I have no idea why Ron supports the Cannons, but don’t tell him I said that they suck. I have to share a dorm with him, and I’ll never hear the end of it.”), and recent disappointments with the international team (“Why he was given management of the England team, I’ll never know. We’re going to be crushed in the next World Cup if they don’t pull their finger out! That last match against Wales was painful to watch. They scored fifty - fifty! - in a six hour match.”).
Gradually, conversation petered out until they were sitting in a silence that was far more comfortable than it had been when Timothy had first taken a seat at the table. Harry returned his attention to his homework and the actions of Wendelin the Weird during the witch-hunting of the Middle Ages.
“So,” Timothy said after a while, breaking the silence, “are you planning to be around Diagon for long?”
“Until term starts, if everything goes to plan,” Harry replied, looking up from his nearly completed essay.
“Are you doing anything tomorrow?” Harry shook his head silently and Timothy continued, “Then do you want to meet up again some time tomorrow?”
Seeing Harry’s slightly wary look, the werewolf quickly added, “Beta, remember? It isn’t a Courting offer or anything. You just seem to spend a lot of time on your own. I thought you might like some company, is all.”
Harry nodded slowly. It had been getting lonely, sitting here and wandering around Diagon Alley on his own, and it would be another week or two before Ron and Hermione returned from their holidays and could join him.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll be here again for most of the day, just come and find me. I will be doing homework again though, so I might not be very talkative.”
“I think I’m talkative enough for both of us. According to my alpha, I can talk all the hind legs off a Sleipnir,” laughed Timothy. “I’ll come and find you in the afternoon. I’m on the graveyard shift tonight, so I won’t be conscious until at least two tomorrow. It should give you time to get some work done before I come along and pester you.”
Harry just nodded, smiling as Timothy left. He may not be making any progress on the mating front, but at least his day had had some variety, and so would tomorrow.

§`§`§`§`§`§`§`§`§`§
“That looks horrendously complicated.”
Harry jumped in his seat, just managing to grab his ink bottle before it tipped over and spilled ink over the essay he had spent the last few hours writing.
“Don’t do that!” he gasped, pressing a hand to his heart. “Make some noise or something next time.”
“Sorry,” grinned an unrepentant looking werewolf. “So, what are you doing?”
“Potions,” Harry grumbled, glaring at the huge werewolf.
“Aww, you look cute when you’re angry, Harry.”
“I’m not angry Timmy, just exasperated. My best friend has Gemini for brothers - I’m used to the annoying,” Harry said with a sweet smile.
“Please don’t call me Timmy. My grandmother called me Timmy,” Timothy whined, screwing his face up in distaste.
“Don’t sneak up on me then.”
“Deal,” the werewolf said with a grin as he slipped his bulk into the seat across from Harry. The demon rolled his eyes, but smiled in amusement at the childish werewolf.
Silence fell between them as Harry turned his attention back to a diagram in one of his textbooks. Timothy spent a few minutes trying to read the tiny, cramped text of the book and Harry’s untidy scrawl upside down. Eventually he gave up; neither were clearly legible, especially upside down, and he was only able to read the odd word.
“Ok, what is that? It looks like an assassin’s how-to guide.”
“What?” laughed Harry, looking up from his work in surprise.
“I’m serious! It’s a list of toxic substances and how they affect the body. Who decided telling teenagers how to kill each other was a good idea?” Timothy exclaimed dramatically.
“It’s just potions,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “Although Snape probably wouldn’t complain if we did try to off each other in lessons,” he mused. “As long as it was Slytherin doing the damage to Gryffindors, and Gryffindors just dying quietly.”
“So what are you studying that requires you to know the ten most toxic plants found in your average forest?”
“What sort of forests are you exploring that have Fanged Rafflesia in them?” Harry asked, amused.
“I’m an urban wolf!” Timothy protested. “I don’t even know how to find berries in the forest, let alone what the plants are called. Heck, I don’t even know where the nearest forest is! And you haven’t answered my question.”
“Snape, being the git that he is, has set us more homework than all the other teachers combined: ‘Explore the properties of ten toxic ingredients used in medicinal potions. Compare and contrast their effects in potions and their effects in raw form. Choose one ingredient and explain how the toxic properties are lost during the brewing process and why the ingredient is necessary for the medicinal potion it is used in’. A minimum of seven feet, no more than ten.” Harry sat back with a huff.
“Right.” Timothy blinked. “Well, I’d offer my assistance but I barely scraped a ‘Poor’ in my potions O.W.L.. I’m a menace in the potions lab. I wouldn’t be surprised if the cauldron I blew up in my fifth year is still melted into the ceiling.”
Harry burst out laughing.
“That was yours?”
“‘Was’? Does that mean it isn’t still there?” Harry shook his head at the honestly disappointed, albeit amused, look on the werewolf’s face. “My lasting mark on the school, gone.”
“It was still there until about three weeks before the end of term,” Harry said, grinning. “A classmate of mine had a truly spectacular potions accident and finally brought down the cauldron embedded in the ceiling, along with half the ceiling. Snape nearly had an aneurism. Neville may actually be rivalling me now for number of points lost in a single lesson. It so worth the loss of points to see the look on Snape’s face.”
“I was taught by Slughorn. Snape only started when I was doing my N.E.W.T.s, and I think everyone was relieved I was out of the potions classroom by then. Old Sluggy found me impossible to deal with. I think by the end he considered it a success if I made it out of a lesson without blowing my eyebrows off.”
“Snape wouldn’t be satisfied if I produced Mastery quality potions,” Harry snorted. “That’s why I’m doing all this,” he waved a hand at the tottering stacks of books around him, and the various screwed up and scribbled on pieces of parchment that littered the table. “If I don’t hand in something worth an ‘O’, or at least an ‘E’, he won’t even give me an ‘A’. Biased git,” he finished contemptuously.
Timothy raised his eyebrows. “Everyone used to say he was biased towards his own House, but I didn’t think he was so bad.”
“I don’t think he is with most people,” Harry shrugged. “He snaps and docks points constantly but my dorm mates seem to get their work graded fairly. He just despises me.”
“Why?” Timothy asked, frowning when Harry sighed and shrugged.
“No idea. I think it has something to do with my ‘father’. That’s all I ever hear from Snape: ‘strutting around school, just like your father’, ‘think you’re above the rules, just like your father’, ‘breathing air, just like your father’,” Harry mocked, with a passable imitation of Snape’s sneer. He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Although, I think I am beginning to make him hate me on my own merits,” he admitted. “It is true that I’m not really one for rule following, and I get away with far more than even he thinks,” Harry confided with a grin.
“Oh?” asked the the carefully blank-faced werewolf. He did not look amused at Snape’s treatment of Harry, or Harry’s attitude towards Snape’s behaviour. “And what, precisely, have you done to deserve his attitude towards you?” Now he was scowling and Harry doubted that he would find anything Harry had done to be sufficient justification of Snape’s attitude. Not that Harry believed Snape did have a good reason for treating him the way he did but he did wonder how much of Timothy’s anger was because he liked Harry, and how much of it was the ‘protect all submissives’ attitude werewolves were known for.
“Well, I did fly a car to school last year. Mostly got away with it too.” Harry grinned as the frown fell from Timothy’s face to be replaced by a look of incredulity.
“You flew…? What? How did you…? Why?” Timothy stammered, his brain struggling to process the idea that the tiny, apparently extremely mischievous submissive had flown a car, of all things, to school. ‘Not one for the rules’ indeed. Shax would either love the little demon, or be driven half mad by him. Or both. Timothy’s money was on both. “Where did you even get a flying car?”
“It belonged to my friend’s dad. We couldn’t get onto the platform for the train because a mad house elf was determined to stop me going back to Hogwarts - a long story,” Harry said quickly, seeing the look on Timothy’s face. “The car was in the car park and it just seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Oh yeah, I can see exactly how you jumped from ‘we’ve missed the train’ to ‘let’s steal a car and fly to school’,” Timothy snarked, still looking shocked. “Didn’t you have an owl or guardians to wait for? How were you not seen?”
“Um, we kind of were,” Harry said, ducking his head sheepishly. “It was in the paper and everything.”
Timothy frowned for a moment, before seemingly remembering the article. He shook his head incredulously. The little raven haired demon was definitely going to drive Shax mad.
“The rules breaker comment is well earned then,” the werewolf said lamely after a moment of stunned silence. “It’s still no reason to dock your grade and treat you so badly. You’re hardly the first trouble maker Hogwarts has seen. You might be the first to fly a car to school though,” he finished in a mutter.
Harry shrugged. “He’s hated me since day one. I was shouted at for taking notes, for Merlin’s sake! Me existing seems to be enough reason for him to dock points and give detention.”
A wordless growl was his reply. Harry rolled his eyes at the werewolf.
“The concern is appreciated but like I said, I drive him nuts even without whatever misplaced hatred he had for me before he met me. The grades he give me don’t really matter. As long as I do the work I can still get a decent O.W.L., which is what people actually care about. It’s easier to just grin and bear it - and cause as much chaos for him as I can.”
“Is there nobody you can talk to about it?” Timothy asked, not willing to brush it off the way Harry was. Abusing any cub was bad enough - and inheritance or no, Harry was still only a cub - but the abuse of a submissive cub that he was rapidly becoming friends with pulled at every protective instinct Timothy had.
“Who would I tell?” Harry retorted, raising his eyebrows. “Dumbledore is a two-faced, bigoted old goat who pretends to care about discrimination and abuse when it suits him. McGonagall already knows but can’t do anything to stop it because Dumbledore practically condones it. Even if I complain to the other staff, they would be unlikely to be any more successful at stopping it than McGonagall. If they even tried. Most staff would give me a pat on the head, tell me that that’s just the way Snape is and it’s not just me he acts like that towards, and to do my best to avoid antagonising him so there’s no reason for me to be in trouble with him.”
“So they already know?”
“It is hard to miss.”
Timothy nodded unhappily, a quiet growl still rumbling in his chest. As much as he didn’t like the situation there wasn’t anything he could do about it alone. Nobody in the wizarding world valued a werewolf’s opinion and a werewolf trying to report a case of child abuse would be laughed out of the Child Welfare office - and probably into a holding cell.
Silence fell between them, Timothy lost in his thoughts and Harry returning his attention back to his homework. The only noise was made by Harry rifling through his textbooks and notes, occasionally muttering a few choice words about Snape, potions and some things said professor could do with his cauldron that Timothy wasn’t sure were physically possible.
There wasn’t a great deal for the werewolf to do while Harry worked, other than people watch and eat more ice-cream than could possibly be healthy. He still managed to enjoy himself; sitting around eating ice-cream while he listened to Harry muttering at his essay was more relaxed than anything he would be doing if he was spending the day with his pack. Hearing a particularly creative litany of curses from the demon, he looked over in amusement.
And choked on his ice-cream.
The sounds of the werewolf choking made Harry look up from the diagram he was trying to decipher - it supposedly showed how hemlock root interacted with powered bicorn horn; Harry though it looked more like spiders waging war with a giant worm, but if he wrote that, Snape may finally snap and kill him.
“Are you ok?” he asked, concern marred by amusement showing on his face.
“You’re Harry Potter!” Timothy spluttered, ignoring the puddle of ice-cream slowly forming where he had knocked over his sundae.
“Really? Are you sure, because I’ve been having an identity crisis lately,” Harry said sarcastically.
“But…but you’re Harry Potter.”
“Yeees,” Harry drawled. “I thought you’d already figured that out? You’ve been sitting there for two days now. How did you not see my scar before now? And how many other thirteen year old Harrys do you know?”
“You have a long fringe and it’s not like I was looking for a lightning bolt shaped scar on your forehead,” Timothy said defensively. “Although now you mention it, there aren’t any other kids around your age called Harry. None that I know of anyway. Your name kind of became a symbol for the defeat of the Dark. For a while calling your child Harry was sort of like naming your cub Merlin. A lot for a cub to live up to,” Timothy said thoughtfully, before catching sight of Harry’s scowl.
“Sorry! Sorry,” the giant werewolf held his hands up in surrender. “It just surprised me. I wasn’t expecting the Boy-Who-Lived to be a demon."
“You’re not the first to say that,” Harry said, still scowling. “I don’t know why everyone expects me to be a perfectly ordinary wizard. I survived the Killing Curse. As a baby. How was that not a hint that I’m not normal?”
“I suppose mystical demon knowledge would explain some things,” Timothy nodded. Harry snorted.
“More like an over-compensating, very protective demon sire would explain some things.”
“Er, if you say so. Not much is actually known about demons - you’re a very touchy race when it comes to your secrets,” Timothy shrugged. All he knew about demons was the list of do’s and don’ts he had been given by his alpha when he joined the pack after being bitten, and that was more than most people knew.
“I know,” Harry said with a grin. “It drives Hermione up the wall because she can’t do any research about me, and she hates knowing that there is something she doesn’t know. The Gryffindor dominants are going to be walking on eggshells around me this year,” he chuckled. “Apparently the only universal knowledge about demons is that dominants upset a submissive on pain of death.”
“That is exaggerated isn’t it?” Timothy asked hesitantly.
He was not at all reassured by Harry’s dismissive shrug.
“It depends on the sub and the dominants around at the time, I suppose,” Harry said after a moment’s thought. “Instinctively, the first response when a submissive demon feels threatened or upset is to retreat to a dominant who will protect them. It is then up to the dominant to go about defending or reassuring the sub in whatever way they feel is best. Not being a dominant I don’t know what the instinctive response to a threat is for them, though I imagine it is violent. In reality it doesn’t always work quite like that; personally I’m more likely to curse a threat six ways to Sunday. Any nearby dom can help if they want, but I can handle myself just fine,” Harry shrugged. “But then I am known for breaking the mould.”
“That was not at all reassuring,” Timothy said dryly. “I thought submissive demons didn’t like violence?”
“We don’t. That doesn’t mean we can’t be good at it, or adapt to it. I wouldn’t have lasted this long if I hid and cried at the first signs of violence around me. Besides, when doms are fighting it’s-” Harry snapped his mouth shut and blushed.
“Oh? When doms are fighting it’s what?” Timothy prodded, grinning at Harry’s embarrassment. Harry glared. “Aw, you can’t stop there. I was finding it very educational - it’s the most I’ve ever been told about submissive demons. So what about fighting doms?”
Harry’s embarrassed squeak of “Nothing!” was too much for the werewolf, who laughed so hard his entire body shook.
“I hate you,” Harry moaned, burying his flaming face in his arms.
“You know,” Timothy said once he had calmed down enough to speak, “I really don’t envy you your search for a mate. They’re rabid enough without having the whole Boy-Who-Lived thing on top.”
“I’d kind of guessed,” Harry shrugged. “It shouldn’t make a difference. I’m going to be weeding out unsuitable doms anyway; anybody just after my fame should be caught in the process.”
There wasn’t much to say to that - asking about a submissives mating plans was rude, even if you were friends - so Timothy just nodded.
“So are you planning to spend all your summer doing homework?” the werewolf asked, eyeing the potions book at his elbow with distaste. “Or can you take a day off to do something adventurous?”
“If this essay wasn’t so bloody complicated I’d have finished all my homework by now,” Harry grumbled. “I feel like I should warn you that ‘adventurous’ can be dangerous around me. Flying car, remember?”
Timothy chuckled, “Well maybe not quite that adventurous, but there should be a safe level of adventure between ‘eating ice-cream’ and ‘flying car of death’.”
Harry grinned, “Maybe.”
“If you can’t go shopping without it turning into an event, then there really is no hope for you.”
“Then last year’s events say there is no hope for me. Unless ending up on the front page of the Prophet while doing my school shopping doesn’t count as an event.”
“Seriously? Did you drink a bad batch of Felicis last year or something?” Timothy asked incredulously.
“Felicis?”
“Felix Felicis. Luck potion.”
“Oh. Not as far as I know. Stuff just happens to me. My own special brand of luck, I suppose.”
Timothy laughed. “Well if you could keep that special luck under control, we can do something more exciting than potions homework. Do you think I’ll be enough protection, or shall I bring along an Auror squad?”
“You can leave the Aurors behind if you promise that you don’t need to be on a leash,” Harry retorted, sticking his tongue out at the amused werewolf.
“Where are you staying? Or do you want to meet here again?”
“The Leaky Cauldron. I’ll meet you in the bar. Is ten ok?”
Timothy nodded before saying his goodbyes and heading back towards Knockturn Alley. Hopefully he would make some progress tomorrow and would be able to persuade the rather rebellious submissive to venture into Knockturn. He didn’t want to push too hard though; Harry clearly had reasons for being reluctant - he certainly didn't seem like the type to be scared off by the unknown - and Timothy was worried that pushing too hard would scare the small demon away. Not only would his boss kill him for it, he didn’t want to upset Harry. The easy going, trusting little demon was growing on him and he didn’t want to ruin that budding friendship.
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The Path Less Traveled