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Fragmented Soul	By : StrawberryGirl87 & Bickymonster Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Fenrir Views: 79703 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 10
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything in the fandom. no money/profit is made.

Chapter List
- 32
- 33
- 34
Okay, we managed to get this done for you and just before both myself and Bicky go away for the weekend (taking a well deserved break from writing!)

Fragmented Soul
Chapter 33 – Porridge
Fenrir Greyback had never had any strong feelings towards trees before in his life; however, recently, thanks to his rather troublesome mate who was always getting himself into mischief, he had a sudden aversion to them. This was rather unfortunate considering that they lived in a clearing in a forest. It was even more unfortunate that to keep his mind occupied and distracted from the fact his mate wasn’t here, he was now up a tree trying to do something nice for the teenager.
Nice was another thing that Fenrir Greyback was not familiar with. He could be pleasant when the occasion called for it, he could even be agreeable if someone hadn’t pissed him off for at least seventy-two hours but nice… that was a foreign concept. Yet here he was up a tree trying to do something nice for Harry.
It had been Micha’s suggestion and, because of this, Fenrir was starting to get the impression that the two submissive wolves were trying to kill him; there was no other reason for this to have even been suggested at all. Damon had suggested something similar a few days before too, but Micha had wanted the Alpha to do it enough that he had attempt to blackmail him into building something for Harry.
In truth he wasn’t overly bothered by the picture that Micha had shown him, but clearly it was important enough to the submissive for Micha to have tried and so he had agreed. He was under the impression that it was Harry that had been the one to take the photo; Micha would never have thought to be so devious. He would be having words with his little mate when he next returned home.
Fenrir had taken a trip to a hardware store several miles away, where he was occasionally contracted to do odd jobs here and there, and picked up some of the equipment he had needed. Micha, of course, had been thrilled that Fenrir had taken the opportunity of it being the weekend and made a start on the project. To begin with the others had been keen to help him, but now the Alpha was in such a foul mood from figuring out the logistics of it all that no one dared even come near him or the vicinity in which he was working.
The only submissive male left in the clearing had keenly stayed with the Alpha long after the others had backed off to what they judged to be a safe distance. He was enjoying watching Fenrir work on building the platforms several metres off the ground in the tree. They were supposed to serve as thinking platforms for the likes of Harry who seemed to enjoy retreating up into the trees.
Fenrir was also planning on chopping down a couple of the trees to make somewhere for them all to sit when they gathered around the fire. The ground was beginning to get a little tiresome to sit on. Having somewhere to sit that wasn’t the floor was long overdue. All the work was at least doing what was intended and keeping his mind occupied, which had been exactly what they had been hoping for.
Finally, after several curse words from the Alpha wolf, Micha subtly backed away and left him to it, as he realised that not even he was safe from the foul mood that Fenrir was in. Deciding to take a walk he skulked off into the trees without saying a word about where he was going to anyone, not intending to go very far and not thinking that he would be missed at all.
He wasn’t sure where he was going but it felt nice to just walk for a little while. It gave him a chance to collect his thoughts. Since the pups had left five days ago he hadn’t really had a chance and things had just suddenly progressed with Damon; it felt good to just take the time and process it all.
When he realised where he had ended up he stalled. He hadn’t wanted to be here; he hadn’t expected to end up here; it wasn’t somewhere he really wanted to be ever again. He was really starting to wish that he had put more thought into where he was putting his feet.
He had studied this tree, each knot and imperfection of its bark as Harlan had forcibly and painfully taken him. It had been the only thing to distract himself from the pain of it. There was no denying that this was that tree, there was no mistaking it. With his hands trembling he just stood, staring at it. It took a huge amount of effort to keep his breathing under control.
It felt almost a little surreal now, when things had changed so dramatically for him; Harlan was dead and gone, something he was glad for now that he was over the shock of it; And Damon was his mate, and treated him with such affection at all times that the whole relationship still felt too good to be true, almost. It felt like a lifetime ago that he had been here with Harlan and yet, at the same time, he still felt trapped by it, like it was only moments ago.
He wished so desperately that he could change what had happened, but there was no fixing it now; this would always be a part of his history and who he was. And as much as he tried to comfort himself by thinking about how much stronger he was for having survived, and how he had learned from it, none of it made him feel any less of a failure for having let it happen in the first place.
It had been so much easier to just focus on Christmas and the pups leaving for school, and the Alpha’s moods, and Damon; his new mate was such a great distraction that Micha was relishing in his attentions and affections. But now, faced with the reality of what he had lived through, he was angry; at himself mostly, but at Harlan too; and for the pack for not stopping him, he realised for the first time.
He was so angry he wanted to cry, but it was like it was welling up inside of him; he was sure he was going to drown or suffocate underneath the sheer enormity of his thoughts and unshed tears. Maybe he could ask the Alpha to chop this tree down, but he didn’t want it to be part of Harry’s surprise, or the new benches that Fenrir had promised him. Maybe they could chop it up for firewood; surely burning it would be therapeutic.
Micha was so deep in his thoughts, struggling not to just break down, screaming and crying, that he didn’t realise that he wasn’t alone. Feeling strong arms encircling around him was enough to push him over the edge and make him believe that Harlan had come back; that he was here, ready to force him to do those things again.
“NO!” He screamed. “NOT AGAIN, I WON’T LET YOU, NO!”
“Micha,” Damon said in shock, instantly letting go of his submissive mate the moment that he screamed. He had come in search of Micha after he had realised that his mate had wandered off. Damon had been concerned that Micha might be getting himself in some sort of trouble, as he was prone to do, but he hadn’t expected this.
Micha dropped to the ground, curling in on himself, muttering under his breath, tears streaming down his cheeks, before he remembered he had a dominant mate to protect him now. “DAMON!” the submissive shouted suddenly, though he remained curled up and trembling. “HELP, DAMON,” he yelled, before his voice dropped to a small plea. “Please,” he whispered.
Damon could just stare at his young mate, who was blatantly terrified, not knowing how to help him; he was confused about why Micha had pushed him away and then screamed for him. Tentatively he dropped to his knees, surrounding Micha with his body. “I’m here, you know my scent, Micha, you know that it’s me, I’m here. I’m not letting you go,” he whispered softly as he heard footfalls behind him.
“Damon,” Micha sobbed, clutching at his mate as if his very life depended on it. “He was here, I was sure of it. He was here.”
“No one is here; it’s just us, you and me,” Damon reassured him. He knew the others were close by and would have heard Micha’s screams; he just hoped that they had the sense to stay quiet and not to panic the submissive further.
In all honesty, Damon had been expecting something like this to happen for a while; things had been going far too easily and after what Micha had been through it wasn’t surprising for him to have a setback like this. He felt so very guilty for the twinge of happiness he had felt when it had been him that Micha had automatically called for, but that Micha trusted him meant that maybe they could make it through. Though Damon had no delusion about it being an easy path they would be walking.
“Damon,” Micha said again, his voice still trembling but it sounded as though he was starting to calm a little. Damon could hear Micha taking deep breaths, the submissive breathing in his dominant mate’s scent as he buried his head into his chest.
“Leave them,” he heard the Alpha say quietly behind them and Damon was glad that Fenrir understood. He was grateful that they had come after hearing Micha scream but he knew that the submissive would not appreciate having an audience for this, the two of them needed to be alone.
“I’m here, Micha,” Damon whispered gently as he ran his fingers through the soft tufts of blond hair, trying to comfort his mate as he cried.
“He was going to hurt me,” Micha told him, purple eyes looking up suddenly, darting around the area as though expecting Harlan to be standing there taunting him.
“He isn’t going to touch you ever again,” Damon said firmly, reminding himself of that fact, as much as he was assuring Micha. He knew he would never forgive himself for not having protected the submissive from that monster, but he would never fail him again. “No one is ever going to hurt you if I have anything to say about it,” he promised.
“I’m scared,” Micha admitted; for years he had tried to match the courage of the dominants around him, but there in the arms of his mate he felt free to be truthful about how vulnerable he felt. Maybe he was never meant to be that strong, he certainly didn’t feel up to it at the moment.
“I’m here. If you need to feel scared, feel scared but I’m here,” Damon told him. He was prepared to be whatever his submissive mate needed, even if he had no idea what that was yet; for Micha’s sake he would find a way to make it happen. “I’m not going to leave you, I’m not going to let go.”
“Can we move away from here,” Micha asked, and Damon noticed that the younger werewolf was still looking around nervously as though expecting them to be attacked at any second.
“Of course, but can I ask why?” he requested. He was sure it wouldn’t be an easy question for Micha to answer but he needed to understand, and if that was ever going to happen then they were going to have to start talking about the difficult things.
Damon loved Micha, had for some time, and there was no doubt that he wanted to be with him; but he wanted Micha to be able to be exactly himself, whatever that might mean. He didn’t want Micha to hide from him in any way; and he wanted to help his beautiful and amazing submissive to heal from the hell he had been through.
“It’s… haunted here, it is just too… close,” Micha said tentatively, his forehead crumpled up as he tried to find the words to explain. He looked up at Damon, who was still wrapped around him, his eyes asking if he had made any sense at all.
Damon, however, said nothing and simply swept Micha up into his arms, heading off through the woods to find them somewhere else. Whether or not he had understood what Micha was trying to say was almost irrelevant, when he had just accepted and moved them. The submissive wrapped his arms around Damon’s neck and allowed himself to be carried away from the nightmarish patch of woodland.
Finding a small space between the trees covered in fallen leaves, Damon sat down, Micha still cradled against him; the two of them fell backwards to the ground, cuddling together on the forest floor.
“Are you okay like this?” Damon asked. Micha was half lying on top of him and he didn’t ever want Micha to feel that he was being pushed into a situation he wasn’t comfortable with.
“Don’t let go,” Micha said suddenly, his hands tightening their grip on the front of Damon’s shirt, burying his nose into the crook of his dominant mate’s neck, inhaling his scent and revelling in the comfort it gave him.
“Not letting go,” Damon promised, his arms around the submissive. “I will only ever let go when you ask me too.”
“Never, I’ll never want you to let me go, pretty sure you are the only thing holding me together right now,” Micha said, his voice was soft and gentle, delicate even. He spoke as if he didn’t want anyone to know just how reliant on Damon he was, as if it were a terrible secret that had to be kept.
“Whatever you need, Micha, I don’t know how to help, but I know I want to,” Damon said, hating how hopelessly useless he felt as he held his mate in his arms. It was truly the only thing that held him together too, knowing that Micha needed him to be strong. So, inhaling the submissive’s scent, he continued to just do what he was doing.
“Why? I’m so broken now, why would you want me?” Micha asked, his deepest fears coming to the surface. He never thought that he would have the courage to even speak them aloud but laying there with Damon in the depths of the forest, feeling lost and afraid, he didn’t think that he would have the opportunity again. He couldn’t risk falling in love again, not until he was sure that Damon wouldn’t leave him.
“Micha, I want you because you are amazing, and you aren’t broken, you’re traumatised,” Damon said, trying to find the words that might make Micha feel better but not liking how it sounded when the words left his mouth. Had he really used the word traumatised in an effort to comfort his mate?
“I don’t think there’s a difference right now. I feel like I have been shattered into a thousand different pieces,” Micha whispered. He couldn’t look at the man holding him, only straight up at the sky and the tops of the trees. If he risked looking to Damon now then it would feel too real and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to be so honest, not only with himself but his mate too.
“Well then it is a good job I like jigsaws,” Damon stated simply. He wasn’t going give up on Micha just because things weren’t easy. “I remember what the picture on the box looks like, so we will just take our time to gather all those pieces and put them back where they belong, okay?”
“I think a few of the edges of those pieces got damaged along the way,” Micha said, he didn’t know what else he could say to make Damon realise that he wasn’t going to be worth all the hassle, that he was never going to be the person he was before. Damon was an amazing person and he deserved so much more in a mate than what Micha could give him, he was sure. Harlan had spoken the truth; he was broken, no one would want him now.
“Then we will fix them as best we can and forge some happy new memories and feelings to fill in the gaps,” Damon suggested, his words bringing tears to Micha’s eyes. Damon truly was a special person and more than he deserved in a mate.
“That sounds like a plan, marshmallow,” Micha said; he was far from convinced but it was clear that Damon was determined to try and if his mate wanted to be his rock, his strength, then he would try to let him. Micha would never believe that he was deserving of Damon’s affections and he felt guilty that he would never be enough for the amazing man who held him but there didn’t seem to be anything that he could say to sway him on the matter.
FGHP
Hearing Micha scream had put everyone on edge, even though they knew that he was fine, and they were all on their way back to the clearing. Fenrir hadn’t been in the best of moods anyway and the sudden rush of adrenaline upon hearing the scream had done nothing to make him any happier.
He watched as Callie and Tessie headed back over to the fire where Callie was attempting to tutor the other female in medical magic. Tessie seemed to be genuinely interested and, considering her own injury, it seemed wise to teach her. Callie had been valiantly attempting to teach Jenson too but nothing seemed to be sticking in his thick head. Romy was a much better student but with her away at school they had had to put her lessons on hold.
Lukas was suspiciously absent again today; he had been that way a lot as of late, always sneaking off, claiming that he was working but none of them believed for a moment that that was all he was doing. They did respect his privacy, however; they didn’t ask questions, allowing him to believe that he was getting away with it. They trusted that he would tell them when he was good and ready to do so.
Jenson, on the other hand, really was at work; he had been bitching about it the night before. One of his richer clients was demanding his presence early next morning, despite it being the weekend, to look at some rare artefact they had acquired. He had, of course, taken great care not to mention the name of the client he was visiting, to the pack; the man was paying a lot of Galleons, not only for Jenson’s expertise, as he was classified as the top of his field, but also for his discretion. This particular client had a fascination with darker magical objects and he liked to keep his name off any business records Jenson kept.
Fenrir took up a position near the edge of the clearing, where he could watch over the two women near the fire; with the rest of the pack either absent or otherwise occupied, he wouldn’t leave Tessie and Callie unprotected. It was a preferable activity over trying to scale the trees to build Harry’s platforms anyway, in his opinion.
The clearing felt so empty without the pups there to cause trouble and worry over, it really didn’t feel right. The pack wasn’t exactly small but they were spread too thin, Fenrir knew that, they weren’t as strong as they should have been.
“Is Micha going to be okay?” Tessie asked, genuinely sounding concerned. She wasn’t aware of what had happened to him. She hadn’t been told much about what Harlan had done to the young man, only enough to know that everyone was glad that he was dead.
“Damon will look after him,” Callie responded carefully. She had faith in her brother, she knew how protective he was over the ones that he cared for. Callie knew that their baby sister’s death, so many years ago, still haunted him and there had been absolutely nothing that he could have done about it. Damon wouldn’t let Micha suffer needlessly; he would help him through it.
“My old pack was very much like this one,” Tessie mused, thinking back to before the war between wizards had spilled over into their lives unexpectedly and most unwelcome. “We were mostly related, a family as well as a pack, but you guys are as close as we ever were.”
“You never said what happened to them, you said that they were killed but you never explained why,” Callie hedged somewhat nervously, not wanting to upset the newest member of their pack too much.
“He-who-must-not-be-named is trying to recruit werewolves to his side. My pack refused and were killed for it. Aiden and I were sent to be with the pack that he controls but he kept my little sister to control us and to… I think… to turn others.”
“If the opportunity arises we’ll get her out,” Fenrir suddenly said from behind them, the two women startled by his sudden appearance, not having realised that he was so close to them and eavesdropping.
“Why would you do that for me?” Tessie asked, the words escaping before she had a chance to think about them.
“Because when it comes down to it, she is just a young girl and deserves to be free,” Callie explained. It didn’t sit right with any member of pack that Tessie’s sister was imprisoned by Voldemort and, while there was nothing they could do about it at the moment, they wouldn’t choose to leave her there if they could save her. “You were exactly right when you said we are a family, you are already taking steps to becoming part of that.”
“I am?” Tessie asked with confusion. She had felt utterly useless here, unable to hunt, unable to go on supply runs, she couldn’t even work with her arm the way it was, permanently strapped to her chest and completely unusable unless she wanted to be in a serious amount of pain.
“You protected the pups,” Callie said to her reassuringly.
“You protected Harry,” the Alpha added, though his tone was less reassuring than Callie’s had been. He was far more unhappy with the fact that it hadn’t been him that had protected his mate but that was hardly Tessie’s fault. He found that he was just grateful that Harry was safe at all, no matter how that had come about. It made him constantly worry about what his little one was getting up to at school.
Damon had already received another letter regarding Clayton; this time he was in detention for skateboarding in the corridors. This didn’t surprise anyone of course but there had been no mention of Harry this time and that concerned the Alpha. It had always been reassuring to know that whatever the two boys were up to, they were up to it together.
Damon hadn’t seemed too concerned, brushing it off with a comment that at least Harry wasn’t attempting to skateboard through the corridors too, because then they really would have to worry; the boy would almost certainly do himself a serious injury if his previous attempts were anything to go by. Besides the two boys were bound to spend some of their time apart.
Though if Damon was honest he would have told the Alpha that he was just as concerned that, for once, Harry and Clay were not causing trouble together. However, he wasn’t going to risk putting Fenrir into a worse mood than he was already in despite the diversionary tactics Micha had talked the Alpha into; they would have to wait and see how well the distraction worked.
FGHP
Visiting Malfoy Manor never put Jenson in a good mood. Lucius Malfoy was, however, one of his richest clients and paid through the nose to have Jenson make house calls. Malfoy would only deal with the best and when it came to magical artefacts that was Jenson. He also paid highly for confidentiality. Jenson may have known the identity of his client, as he was very recognizable in the wizarding world, but he made sure to keep Malfoy's name out of any and all records of their dealings.
Jenson did think it rather odd that, rather than using the front door as they usually did, he was being snuck in a side entrance under a disillusionment charm. He found it particularly odd that he was being forced to use such a high level of concealment and stealth for a routine inspection of a new shipment that Lucius Malfoy have received, and in the man’s own house no less.
It wasn’t particularly surprising that the man might be involved in some less than legitimate dealings but there was no doubting the power and influence of the Malfoy family, as such it was strange to see Lucius Malfoy acting so underhandedly. It certainly made Jenson curious as to exactly who it was that his visit was being kept a secret from; somehow he suspected that it wouldn’t be just Mrs Malfoy, not that he had ever come across her on any of his precious assignments.
He, in fact, knew very little about the Malfoys. Only what he had heard and recently that hadn’t been much. He knew that Lucius Malfoy was married and had a son but that was it. He was also fairly sure that the man was not to be trusted, but that was more to do with the nature of the majority of the artefacts that Lucius Malfoy seemed to acquire or own.
“I believe that this is a rather, unique item,” Lucius drawled as he showed Jenson into his office. “As always I appreciate your expertise, Mr Howard” he said, handing over a large pouch of gold coins that amounted to more than Jenson usually earned in a week. “As well as your discretion.”
“As ever, Mr Malfoy, you have both,” Jenson said as he pocketed the pouch of coins. He was not a great fan of the kind of magical artefacts the money was paying him to deal with but there was no denying that the pack needed money, particularly with all the stuff that the pups had needed to take to Hogwarts.
He carefully examined the rune covered wooden box before using a simple spell to open it; it had been a great many years since he had been foolish enough to even consider touching something so unknown with his bare hands. It was clear already what the item was generally supposed to do from the inscriptions on the case alone and Jenson was actually surprised that it was something so innocuous.
A pendant that would allow the wearer through even some of the more hardy of possible warding spells; it really was quite remarkable and though Jenson knew it could be used for nefarious purposes, it wasn’t half as dangerous as Malfoy’s usual.
“Unique and remarkable,” Jenson praised as he began his first few diagnostic spells as Lucius Malfoy watched on eagerly. “You do find the most interesting of artefacts, I will give you that,” he added, spotting the blond man’s smug expression from the corner of his eye. There really was nothing like a little bit of praise to ensure that the well paid jobs kept coming his way; he had his daughter’s education and book addiction to fund after all.
FGHP
Harry and Romy made their way up from the Slytherin common room the next morning. Both of them were feeling so well rested that they were coming to realise that perhaps it didn’t matter if they were in beds, the forest or in fact anywhere, as long as they were together; that was what seemed to matter. As soon as they could sort Clayton out of his sulk then they all might be in better moods for it.
However, it was clear that Clayton was still in a terrible mood the moment they saw him waiting in the Entrance Hall; neither Harry, nor Romy, had ever seen him look so mad. Draco and Daphne, who had been accompanying the two werewolves, quickly made excuses to leave at the sight of the enraged Gryffindor.
“Not content with the Alpha, you have to try and steal my girl from me too,” Clayton hissed at Harry, infuriated; it was obvious that Romy had stayed in the Slytherin dormitories with Harry and he wasn’t sure what hurt more that she had slept there, or that he had been excluded. Part of him knew that Harry wasn’t interested in Romy that way, but obviously something was going on between the two of them, even if it wasn’t romantic in anyway.
“I’m not your girl,” Romy snapped; sure, Clay had told her how he felt but that didn’t mean anything when she didn’t feel it back. She certainly wasn’t his girl or in fact his anything. Of course she loved him but they were cousins, that was it, and Clayton would have to get used to that at some point, because she didn’t see it changing.
“And I’m not stealing her from you,” Harry added, sounding exasperated. Clay had known him for years; he knew that Harry hadn’t once shown interest in a woman. He knew that it was Clay’s irrational thoughts and paranoia but he couldn’t help but be a little pissed off at the insinuation. Even if he wasn’t gay he would never steal his best friend’s girl.
“Fine,” Clay said, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration, “whatever, I just thought we were best friends, my mistake.” With these final words he turned and stormed into the Great Hall towards the Gryffindor table. He didn’t want to sit with his fellow Gryffindors, but even they were preferable to his traitorous pack brother and sister at the moment.
“Clay, wait,” Harry called out, but Romy put a hand around his wrist to prevent him from following. He turned to look at her but she shook her head. “Why?” Harry asked in confusion, he wanted to go after his friend and fix whatever it was that was broken between them; sure they had had fights and disagreements over the years, but this felt more serious somehow and honestly he was scared that he was losing his best friend.
“He’s tired and moody,” Romy explained, thinking back to the conversation she had had with Clayton the evening before. “He hasn’t been sleeping well, let him cool off.”
“I was letting him cool off all day yesterday,” Harry huffed as they entered the Great Hall together and saw Clayton sitting with a dark skinned girl and a pair of red headed twins. He supposed he should be glad that Clayton hadn’t gone completely off his rocker and sat with Ron and his cronies.
“Fine,” Romy said, supposing that it probably was best the two boys talked, but it wouldn’t help anyone if they were both extra cranky from a lack of food and caffeine. “But at least have breakfast first,” she added fondly.
Harry looked less than convinced and cast another glance over at his best friend before nodding his agreement, the two of them taking seats at the Slytherin table with Draco and Daphne, who were already helping themselves to toast.
“Personally I think Clayton only sits over there so I won’t take his coffee away,” Romy mused. “Look at him, he’s practically pouring the whole bowl of sugar into the mug.” She had thought a little caffeine and sugar might help him, but that quantity was likely to make him insufferable… even more so than usual.
“Oh I’d love to see you stop him,” Harry said in amusement as he looked over his shoulder and saw what she said to be true. Harry was even a little jealous because there seemed to be a small bowl of brownies on the table where he was sitting too and he wondered if Clayton had actually instructed the house elves to send that up for him specially for him.
“Then keep watching,” Romy said with a determined expression on her face. “He can be moody at us all he likes but I’m not letting him eat that much sugar and drink that much coffee.”
Looking at the fourteen year old Ravenclaw girl in absolute astonishment, Draco, Daphne and Harry watched as she got up and strode purposefully over to the Gryffindor table, where, without a word, she took the highly sugared mug as well as the bowl of brownies and simply walked away. Clayton was in so much shock at what had happened he didn’t even have a chance to say or do anything to stop her.
“Wow,” Astoria said as Romy returned to the Slytherin table but not before Luna joined her along the way as well.
“Now, if he wants them back he can stop being such a grumpy arse and come and get them,” Romy said triumphantly. “Honestly, that boy is…”
“...Besotted with you,” Harry interrupted with a cheeky grin as he grabbed some toast and took a bite.
“Frustratingly stubborn is what I was going to say,” Romy told him with a glare before putting the highly sugared coffee plus brownies on the table out of Harry’s reach, where they were largely ignored by all the Slytherins apart from Crabbe and Goyle.
“Oh look, how sweet, Granger seems to be attempting to sugar him up herself, in more ways than one,” Daphne said, sounding a little disgusted. The Slytherins all watched as Hermione poured Clayton another mug of coffee, sliding it over to him as well as a new bowl of sugar.
Romy watched on with smug satisfaction as Clayton refused both, clearly in a sulk but not wanting to upset the situation more since Romy had already taken it away from him. It was perhaps in that one moment that she started to realise just how true Clayton’s declaration of love might actually be. He was refusing sugar and caffeine because she had told him no.
“Oh my… it’s a miracle… I can’t believe it, did I just see… Clay refusing coffee?” Harry said in a much exaggerated tone of shock and awe that made Draco smile into his mug of green tea. “It must be love.”
Not saying a word, Romy picked up a croissant and threw it forcibly at Harry, hitting him full in the face with it. In return, without a second of hesitation, Harry grabbed a handful of dried cornflakes and threw them right back; they scattered over the table and Romy, as well as the students surrounding her.
A glint of a challenge appeared in Romy’s dark blue eyes as she took hold of the teaspoon in the jam and flicked it at him. The gooey red substance landed in Harry’s hair with a splat. Draco glared at her, as some of it also landed on him.
“Oh this is fun,” Luna said, seeming to make herself comfortable as though settling down to watch a show.
In retaliation to the assault on his person using sticky fruit conserve, Draco took a spoonful of marmalade and flicked it toward the younger girl. Normally he would never behave so childishly but they had started it after all and they could be sure that he was going to finish it.
The dollop of marmalade landed, with perfect aim, on Romy’s t-shirt making Harry laugh as Draco took a handful of yoghurt and smooshed it into Harry’s hair and face, before wiping his hand clean on a napkin. Daphne looked positively horrified at what was happening as Harry, Romy and Draco covered each other in breakfast products.
Romy was laughing mercilessly at Harry who was covered in strawberry yoghurt, she was laughing so hard in fact that she failed to notice until it was too late that Harry had picked up the whole bowl and tipped it over her head.
“Oh you are so going to pay,” Romy said with a giggle, taking the bowl of lukewarm porridge, which Luna handed to her with a grin, and pouring it down the front of Harry’s t-shirt.
“That tickles!” Harry said, chuckling as the gloopy substance ran down his chest. It was really not a pleasant sensation, but the whole situation was too funny to do anything other than laugh.
“As amusing as this is...” an older, authoritative voice said from behind them, interrupting their antics and making Harry pause as he reached for the jug of pumpkin juice. “...Perhaps the three of you involved should go and clean up.”
Harry looked up into the green eyes of Remus Lupin. The professor hadn’t spoken to him harshly, in fact quite the opposite; he had given the warning softly and kindly. Harry found that he was rather surprised by this; he had thought that they were going to get told off, given detention even but it seemed that Romy was going to get away with not getting put in her first detention.
“Maybe you could actually join me and Harry in the showers this time, Draco,” Romy teased as she got up from the table.
Harry laughed at the horrified expression on Daphne’s face, though Draco didn’t look much more impressed with the suggestion.
“I don’t believe this is a conversation that I should be privy to; and I suggest you make use of the showers in your own dormitory, Miss Howard,” Remus said sternly and Romy blushed, having forgotten that there was teacher standing right next to them. She was just glad that it was this particular teacher seeing as he was a werewolf like them and might understand the humour, at least she could hope. “Though perhaps I might have a word with you, Harry, if it’s convenient,” Remus said, hopefully.
“Umm… I’d love to Professor,” Harry said as he spotted Clayton making a beeline for the exit, “but maybe another time, there is something I’ve got to do,” he said as he got to his feet. “Besides, I’m covered head to toe in porridge and currently testing the shampooing properties of this yoghurt and jam mixture, so maybe we can have a chat when I’m not covered in breakfast products.”
Remus watched in confusion, still trying to process the rambling excuse that he had just been given as Harry headed towards the exit, before pausing and rushing back and throwing an arm over Romy’s shoulder; he waved his wand and created a photograph of the pair of them.
“For you,” he said, handing the photo to his pack sister, with a mocking bow, before giving her a quick kiss to the cheek and heading after Clayton again, leaving his friends and pack sister behind. They all looked a little bewildered, particularly when they spotted that Harry was leaving a trail of porridge behind him from where it was dripping from beneath his t-shirt.
Romy watched him go having a good idea where it was that he was going, however she knew that it was best to let the two of them talk alone. She looked down at the picture he had handed her and laughed; she really couldn’t wait to send the photograph of her and Harry covered in breakfast products to her Dad and Fenrir, who she was sure would get a kick out of seeing them like this.
She thought she might send one of the school owls off today with the picture and a letter; though she would have to shower first, that wasn’t even negotiable as she felt yoghurt drip from her hair down onto her shoulder.
Harry charged in the direction Clay was heading, not sure where his friend had to be in such a hurry on Saturday morning but he was determined to talk to him. He was covered in all sorts of mess and had enough porridge down his t-shirt to feed at least three if not four people but all of that paled in significance by comparison to talking to and sorting things out with Clayton.
As he ran, following Clay’s scent, he could feel the porridge dripping down into his trousers and boxers. It wasn’t the nicest thing he had between his arse cheeks recently.
“Clayton,” he shouted as he saw his friend about to disappear around another corner.
“What?!” Clay yelled back at the sound of Harry’s voice, turning to glare at him. But he hadn’t expected the sight before him. “What the hell happened to you?” he asked, taking in what looked to be yoghurt in Harry’s hair and porridge running down the front of his trousers.
“Romy happened,” Harry said with a shrug as though it was quite normal to be dripping porridge from your clothes in a corridor. “Though Draco gave her a little help,” he added with a smile as he reached up and prodded at his yoghurt coated hair.
“How nice for you, leave me alone,” Clayton said grumpily, crossing his arms over his chest as he went to turn away. He wanted them to just fix everything, he hated that he was missing these moments that they should have been having together; and damn it he wanted Romy to be pouring porridge down his front… well, sort of.
“Clay…” Harry pleaded, not wanting his friend to storm off again.
“What, you want to rub it in some more?” Clay snapped.
Harry couldn’t help the snort of amusement at that. “I think that would just make the mess worse and then my clothes would never come clean and…” He felt bad for it because he knew that Clay hadn’t meant the food, but he couldn’t help himself and he half hoped that the joking would help. But apparently not.
“Piss off, Harry,” Clayton said, looking seriously annoyed.
“I don’t understand, rub what in exactly?” Harry said earnestly, he still had no idea what he had done to provoke such an attitude from his best friend; he was certain that the lack of sleep was aggravating the situation, and Romy seemed to agree, but he still didn’t know what Clay wanted from him. “What have I done?” Harry asked, hoping that if Clay could tell him that much then they might be able to repair things between them.
“Well… it’s… you should know,” Clayton rambled; now that he tried to put it into words he wasn’t quite sure what to say. He just felt that Harry had pushed him aside, for studying, for Draco, for his precious answers, and it felt petty, but he wanted Harry to just know what he was thinking and feeling again like he used to. “And turning Romy against me,” he added; that was really what was frustrating him at the moment, that it felt like Harry and Romy were against him.
“I haven’t turned anyone against you,” Harry insisted, looking surprised and offended. “Is that really what you think?” he asked, wondering what could have given his friend that impression. The only reason Romy was treating Clay any different was because she was tired of this sulky argumentative mood he was in.
“Mr Danes, I’m sure you should be in detention,” an unwelcome voice said, and the two young werewolves turned to glare at the Carrow siblings who were approaching them.
“Detention?” Harry questioned, turning back to his friend. He remembered that Umbridge had been having words with Clay at lunch the previous evening and wondered if it was related to that.
“Like you care,” Clayton hissed at Harry; it had been Harry’s fault that he had felt the need to get away on his skateboard and therefore gotten detention in the first place, so he really didn’t want to get the sympathy vote now. “I’m coming now,” he added to the Carrows.
“Why, what did you do?” Harry asked, reaching out and gripping Clay’s arm to get his attention.
“What do you care?” Clay asked bitterly, as he yanked his arm free. “We’re not friends any more,” he added, hating himself for saying the words the moment they left his mouth, but even more so when he saw the hurt on Harry’s face.
“Romy’s right,” Harry said, getting angry for the first time since they had started talking, “you’re acting like a sulking toddler.” He wanted to fix things with Clayton, he really did, but apparently his supposed best friend had already written it off as a lost cause. That didn’t mean he was giving up, but it meant that somehow things had gotten a lot worse than he thought they had.
“Enough, Potter,” the female Carrow said sternly, clearly getting annoyed with how the two boys seemed to be just continuing their conversation as though the two adults weren’t there. “Or you’ll be in detention too,” she added, as a warning.
“Not sure who you’re talking to because my name is Prince,” Harry snapped; most of the staff and students at the school seemed to have gotten the message at the start of term feast about exactly what his name actually was, but apparently the Carrows really were every bit as stupid as they looked.
“Just piss off, Harry, leave me alone,” Clayton said; Harry was going to end up making everything worse and likely he would end up being held in detention for even longer if he wasn’t careful.
“Care to join your friend, Potter?” the male Carrow asked, almost as though he thought that Harry might think it a great idea.
“Geeze, the two of you are bigger idiots that I thought, how many times, Prince. P-R-I-N-C-E, get it, not Potter, Prince.” He emphasized each and every letter of his name, spelling it out to them as if they were idiots, which of course they were, considering they couldn’t even get his name right.
The male Carrow sibling took hold of Harry with the aim of putting him in detention along with Clayton, however when his hand came into contact with the slimy yoghurt and porridge combination on his t-shirt, he recoiled his hand with a look of disgust.
“Don’t you dare touch him,” Clayton said, glaring at the Carrow who had attempted to manhandle Harry. He didn’t care how angry he was at his pack brother, he was still at Hogwarts to protect him.
“Clay, it’s fine, they couldn’t hold on to me if they wanted to,” Harry said with a smirk, loving the matching revolted expressions on both of the Carrows' faces. “Next time you should try it, make yourself so slippery and gross that they can’t catch you,” he told his pack brother, amusement ringing in his tone.
“And end up looking like you, think I’ll take a couple hours of boredom,” Clay retorted, almost managing a smile; it was nice being on the same side as Harry again, even if it was only for a short few moments.
“Danes, Madame Umbridge is waiting,” the female Carrow said angrily, pointing in the direction he should head. Clayton scowled at her but not wanting to get another detention he headed off towards Madam Umbridge’s classroom. “As for you, Prince,” she went on, turning on Harry, as Clayton disappeared around the corner, “showers, now, before I send you to join Mr Danes in detention.”
“Sorry, but you’re really not my type,” Harry told her with a mock apologetic smile. “Besides, we only just met, aren’t you even going to offer to buy me dinner first before we jump in the showers,” he added with an exaggerated wink.
The two Deatheaters stared at Harry, not having a clue what to say to the completely unexpected response. “I suggest you learn some manners, Prince,” the male Carrow said, placing all the emphasis on the use of Harry’s surname. “You should watch what you say, or someone might take you up on your offers, and then trust me, a detention would be the least of your worries, little boy.”
Harry made a sound that was halfway between a laugh and an expression of scepticism. “My boyfriend is scarier than the pair of you combined,” he told them with obvious amusement, “and that’s after he’s had his morning coffee. You don’t even want to know what he is like before that,” he told them as though they were sharing gossip in the hallways.
“We’ve known Fenrir Greyback for longer than you’ve been alive, boy,” the male Carrow said with a sneer. “We’re not afraid of him, not that he’d protect one of his boy toys anyway. You’re only good for fucking.”
“You can’t talk to me like that, you’re teachers!”
“You know what we are, Prince,” the female Carrow said, smirking at him in a most unpleasant manner.
“And if you know who my boyfriend is, then I am pretty sure you know what I am. You might not want to get in my way, it would be a terrible shame if I was to accidentally bite someone.” And with nothing more to say to either of them he headed off in the opposite direction from Clayton.
The Deatheaters knew what he was and who he was with, that was probably not a good thing; it almost certainly meant that Voldemort knew a lot more about him than Harry was comfortable with. On the other hand, it didn’t look like the Carrows had any intention of spreading the information around and he could now simply bare his teeth at them in warning; that would probably save time and a few boring conversations.
“Oh looks what we has here, it is a wee little Potter,” Peeves cackled as he peeked out from a suit of armour he was inhabiting. “Except that the boy insists that he’s not a.” The poltergeist chuckled at himself, despite the terrible attempt at rhyming before he went on. “Says that we should all call him prince, but he isn’t so regal, not like he thinks.”
“That’s seriously the best you can come up with,” Harry said, turning to look at the poltergeist in exasperation. They had only met once before but Peeves black hair and orange eyes were familiar to him now and he wasn’t at all daunted by the creature nor his feeble attempts at rhyming.
“Oooh, look at the mess you are making,” Peeves said, peering down the corridor to take in the slight trail of porridge. “I should be telling Mr Filch, he will be so annoyed,” the poltergeist said with glee.
“The food fight was worth it,” Harry told him fiercely, meeting the ghastly orange eyes with his own emerald green in challenge, “go right ahead and tell him.”
“A food fight?” Peeves said, his interest piqued and he floated across to block Harry’s path when the werewolf went to walk off.
“Yeah, in the Great Hall, in front of all the teachers, didn’t even get detention,” Harry bragged, knowing exactly how to impress the poltergeist.
“The Prince boy knows how to have fun,” Peeves said, with a cackle, “such a naughty little student.” Though it sounded like a compliment to Harry’s ears.
“Fancy giving me a hand causing some more trouble?” Harry said, the challenge written all over his face, an idea coming to mind.
“Naughty, naughty, we’ll get caughty,” Peeves told him, looking nothing short of delighted at the prospect of a prank.
“We’re too good to get caught!” Harry told him proudly.
FGHP
Clayton’s mind was still on Harry when he entered Umbridge’s classroom for his detention. He didn’t know what to think about where things stood between him and Harry; he was still angry at him, but he was having a harder and harder time remembering why. He hated that he felt so separated from his pack brother and sister, of course, but not talking to them was hardly helping that situation at all.
“Take a seat, Mr Danes,” Umbridge’s shrill tone instructed, breaking into his thoughts and making him scowl. He really hated this woman, and all this over a bit of skateboarding, it wasn’t as though he was hurting anyone or damaging the school or something. Shouldn’t she have been glad he was going to get to class on time for once?
His mood descending into rapidly darker depths with every step he took as he stormed over to one of the desks a few rows from the front and took a seat; his arms crossed over his chest and frown firmly in place to show exactly how he felt about being there. The toad-like professor, however, just continued to smile at him pleasantly.
Umbridge waved her wand and levitated a piece of parchment and a quill across the room, landing neatly on the desk before him. Clay really didn’t like the sickly sweet smile she had on her ugly face, the twinkle in her brown eyes made him think that she knew something that he didn’t.
“You’ll be doing lines today,” she said sweetly. “You will write out ‘I will behave appropriately’, shall we say, fifteen times.”
“Fine, whatever,” Clayton grumbled, thinking that it wasn't very many and he would be out of there sooner than he had dared to hope. He grabbed the quill but then hesitated. “You haven’t given me any ink,” he stated, looking at Umbridge expectantly.
“Oh, you won’t be needing any ink,” she said her smile growing and the twinkle in her eye brightening; she was far too happy and it made Clayton suspicious.
With a glare to Umbridge, Clayton brought the parchment forward and began to write, the words ‘I will behave appropriately’ appearing on the parchment in what appeared to be shinning red ink. Clayton’s nose picked up at once that it was not ink but blood, his own blood. Just as this realisation hit him he let out a small gasp of pain that was more out of the shock of it than actual pain as the words he had scrawled so hastily on the parchment appeared on the back of his hand.
It was almost as if the words had been carved into his skin with a scalpel, but even as he stared at the cuts they began to heal over, leaving the place that they had been slightly redder than it had been before. He glanced up at Umbridge, who was still smiling at him pleasantly, enough to make him want to attack her.
“Problem, Mr Danes?” she asked, her voice so sickly sweet that even Clayton, who had no issue eating sugar from the bag in mass quantities, had trouble digesting her words.
Clay couldn’t believe what was happening; this was a school and yet this woman, this teacher, was practically torturing him. He knew that it wasn’t right, that she wasn’t right, but he would be damned if he was going to say anything, not knowing that there were two Deatheaters right outside the classroom door.
“No,” he said stubbornly, putting the quill to parchment again and writing out the words once more, “no problem.” Just as they had done before the four words appeared on the back of his hand, carving into his still raw skin, the bite of pain had him clenching his teeth in anger that he was having to put up with this.
“You have a close friendship with Mr Potter, don’t you, Mr Danes,” the Umbridge woman said almost conversationally as she moved to take a seat behind the large desk in front of him. He didn’t look up but distinctly heard the familiar sounds of her making a cup of tea. It made him think of Lukas and home, and it kept his mind on anything other than what he was being forced to do.
“No,” Clayton said with a slight growl. “I don’t know anyone with the name Potter,” he added, refusing to look up and focusing on his lines.
“We’ll make that twenty lines then, Mr Danes,” she said, adding three spoonfuls of sugar to her tea cup before stirring it, the metal of the teaspoon clinking against the china delicately. “I don’t appreciate being lied to.”
“I’m not lying, I don’t know anyone called Potter,” Clayton spat out, looking up to glare at Umbridge hatefully. “And it doesn’t matter how many lines you make me do, I won’t tell you anything about Harry.”
“We shall see about that, won’t we, Mr Danes,” Umbridge said, gently raising her teacup to her still smiling lips.
Clayton glared at her, before looking down and writing out another line; he had no intention of playing her games. He would ignore her the best he could; he would finish these lines as quickly as he could and get out of there. He focused on that, escaping the classroom and finding Romy so that he could talk to her. He wanted to make things right with his family; obviously they needed to stick together. He needed Romy; he needed Harry too when it came to it, but he would seek out his pack brother second, as that would be trickier to work out.
FGHP
Romy was sat at a table in the library; she was occupying a four seater table with Luna and Astoria. Their books were spread across the surface as if supplying some form of stress test for the table. All three were studying, or rather Romy and Astoria were studying while Luna was gazing off into the distance rather dreamily, lost in thought.
The library was annoyingly busy for a Saturday lunchtime, though Madame Pince was doing a rather good job at keeping the giggling and the whispering to a minimum with her stern glares. Romy had noticed that the girl who was apparently crushing on Clayton, the bushy haired Gryffindor, Hermione, was there; though she was paying the three of them very little attention.
Someone, who was paying entirely too much attention to the group of three girls, was a boy in Luna’s year who had mousey brown hair and brown eyes that kept looking up from the potions book he was supposedly reading at to stare at Romy. She kept feeling his gaze on her and it was beginning to get rather distracting. She had already wasted the entire morning getting yoghurt out of her hair and she was now planning on skipping lunch just to catch up on the work she had missed doing earlier.
“Creevey keeps staring at you,” Astoria whispered across the table quietly with a little giggle.
Romy looked up to meet Astoria’s bright blue eyes with slight annoyance. “I’m aware,” she responded in a bored drawl.
She was meant to be doing her Transfiguration homework but instead she was still searching through some of her text books. She was sure that she had read something about Harry Potter and she had still been somewhat unsuccessful at finding it. She didn’t want to mention anything to Harry until she could show him exactly what she meant. The problem was that she had read so many books she couldn’t remember which one it was in.
“He fancies you,” Astoria said with a barely contained girlish squeal. Romy just looked at her disparagingly. Even before she had become a werewolf she had never been the sort of girl to gossip about boys with her friends; she’d never really had friends before she had come to the pack.
“I doubt that,” Romy said dismissively. Even if Astoria was right she didn’t have the time, inclination or the patience to be worrying about Creevey fancying her. She had enough on her plate with Clayton's infatuation with her; she couldn’t be dealing with another loved up teenager obsessing over her like Clay did.
“He’s coming over,” Luna said. She hadn’t seemed as if she had been paying attention to what they were saying, but she was right; Creevey had put down his potions book and was nervously making his way towards them.
“I wish he wouldn’t,” Romy muttered as she tried to focus on her reading, but that became nearly impossible when Creevey was suddenly standing over her, fidgeting as he rubbed his hands together nervously, not saying anything but clearly trying to.
“Umm… hi…” he said nervously. Astoria nudged Luna and the two of them shared a look and a little giggle as Romy looked up from her book with exasperation and a hint of annoyance.
“Can I help you?” she asked him disparagingly, meeting his eyes confidently and not flinching once. “Any time today,” she encouraged, getting annoyed when he failed to find the words.
“WannagotoHogsmeadenextweekendwithme?” the boy asked, his words coming out of his mouth so thick and fast that they blended together and became jumbled up. Romy just looked at him as if he were deranged and she wasn’t far wrong.
“Excuse me?” Romy asked, giving the slightly older teenager a frustrated look. He was subtracting from her valuable reading and studying time, something she didn’t take kindly to. Astoria and Luna were beside themselves at this point, which didn’t seem to help Colin one bit with his nerves.
“I was umm… I wanted to know if…”
“Seriously, just spit it out,” Astoria said, starting to get a little frustrated herself. She was all for the entertainment of watching the poor boy humiliate himself in front of them all but this was taking too long.
“I wanted to know if you wanted to go Hogsmeade with me… umm… it’s next weekend, will you, umm… will you go with me?” he asked, finally getting the sentence out, his cheeks flaming a bright scarlet.
Romy looked at him in confusion. “You want to take me to Hogsmeade?” she asked dubiously, he nodded in response. “You want to walk me the fifteen minutes to the village that I am perfectly capable of walking to either alone or with people that are actually my friends?”
“Umm… yes, I was hoping, I mean I wanted to… I thought we might get a drink together, in the three broomsticks,” Colin mumbled.
“Ah okay, so you don’t want to take me to Hogsmeade,” Romy said with impatience, “you want to take me for a drink. You really ought to be more specific.”
“So, will you go with me?” Colin asked hopefully, obviously rather flustered by Romy's response.
Romy was saved from answering when a familiar cackling sound was brought to their attention as Peeves the poltergeist soared through the air with his black hair all over the place, his orange eyes searching the room until he located who he was looking for. All eyes were on the apparition as he zoomed towards the desk where Madam Pince was sitting.
Romy, Astoria, Luna and Colin all turned and watched as Peeves swooped down and stole one the large record keeping books, from right under the Librarian's nose, with a gleeful cackle. There were several laughs and a few gasps or expressions of disapproval from the other students in the room.
At once the grumpy librarian was on her feet and chasing after the menacing poltergeist, who seemed to have a never ending mischievous streak that was going to give Madame Pince a heart attack if she wasn’t careful with the amount of stress that he caused her. Peeves was forever rearranging the books and moving things that she was looking for and she had well and truly had enough, wanting to chase him off once and for all.
As per the agreement that Harry had with the poltergeist, Peeves began to lead the strict and somewhat ill-tempered librarian away from the study area, which put phase two of Harry’s plan into action. He just had to wait until Madam Pince was far enough away that she wouldn’t be able to hear them and rush back to stop them right away.
Hidden behind some shelves, out of sight of the bemused students, some of whom were still trying to study valiantly despite the interruption, Harry began waving his wand towards the shelves upon shelves of books. It was only a shame that Clayton wasn’t here to help because Harry was sure that he would have rather enjoyed seeing the shocked looks upon the students faces as the enchanted books began flying off the shelves, flapping their covers as if they were wings, flying around the room.
Romy was watching them in utter astonishment, knowing that it had to be one of her pack brothers that was behind the stunt. She knew the two boys too well to believe that it wasn’t one of them. If they had been on speaking terms then she would have assumed that it was both of them hiding away somewhere close by and making the books act like this.
She was absolutely horrified when they suddenly when they started singing, focusing their efforts on her table too that put her in no doubt that it was either Harry or Clayton that was responsible.
“Ohh, this is fun,” Luna said softly, as she watched the flapping books with mild curiosity. “I think they have an infestation of Blibbering Humdingers.”
“Or perhaps an infestation of Harry Prince,” Romy muttered, realising that it couldn’t be Clayton seeing as he was supposed to be in detention. Her logical mind told her that this had to be Harry for one other reason too: he hadn’t got his own back from this morning when she had poured porridge into his t-shirt.
“Is that common?” Luna asked dreamily, completely missing the point; Romy just shook her head in disbelief. Astoria couldn’t stop laughing as one of the books hit Colin over the head. If it had only happened the once then it could have been written off as an accident, perhaps even after the second and third time too. However, as it kept happening, some of the ancient tomes becoming fairly hostile towards him, Colin quickly realised that he was being singled out as the target.
Luna had already completely disregarded Colin and his yelps of pain and frustration as she began to sway to the badly sung song that the books were blaring out much to the annoyance of the other students, all of whom had given up trying to study and were all watching the entertainment.
“You’d better make a run for it Creevey,” Astoria said, highly amused as the largest book that was flying around began to make a beeline for him. “That one looks particularly vicious.”
“Romy, you never answered me,” he said desperately as he ducked, the large, heavy book only just missing him. He knew he wasn’t going to be so lucky the next time.
“Sorry,” Romy said, looking at him strangely, “I can’t hear you over all the noise.” She could of course hear him perfectly well, werewolf hearing or not, but Colin wasn’t to know that and they were surrounded with some rather noisy singing and dancing books.
All three girls were in hysterics as the largest and heaviest book made another nose dive for Colin, aiming for him spine first. He yelped and dived out of the way, falling to the floor. Romy, Astoria and Luna were laughing so hard as he scrambled desperately to his feet, almost tripping over himself as he ran for the door, the large book flapping in his wake as it chased him unceremoniously out of the library and down the corridor.
“You can come out now, Harry,” Romy said, trying to sound stern through her laughter but failing miserably. “He’s gone now,” she added as Astoria wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes.
“How did you know it was me?” Harry asked, sounding a little put out as he revealed himself to the laughing teenage girls as the books continued to flap around them, dancing and singing rather badly.
“Clay’s in detention,” Romy said with amusement, “otherwise I would have thought that it was him.”
“He’ll thank me when I tell him; he won’t like that you’re being asked out,” Harry said with amusement of his own. “And you weren’t exactly saying no either,” Harry pointed out to her.
“We kind of got the impression that you weren’t keen on her being asked out either,” Astoria pointed out, as she glared at a book at was dancing a little too closely for her liking. Harry, however, just shrugged, it had been more that Romy hadn’t looked comfortable with Colin there than anything else, but Astoria could believe whatever she liked.
“I was trying not to be mean,” Romy explained huffily to her pack brother. “I think I have enough trouble with Clayton acting like a love sick puppy all the time, I don’t need anyone else.”
“Don’t let Clay hear you say things like that, it’ll hurt him,” Harry told her firmly.
“Too late,” Clayton said; he had come in search of Romy, knowing that she would be in the library reading, because he needed to talk to someone. The detention had been hellish and he needed to talk to a friendly face. He hadn’t been expecting to overhear his best friend and the love of his life talking about him as if he were a burden, an idiot and someone to be laughed at and mocked because of his feelings. He had asked one thing from Romy and that was to respect the way he felt.
He was so not in the mood for this right now. He had just escaped from the Umbridge woman’s torture chamber, his hand was really hurting after using that damn blood quill for hours, the last thing he needed was to deal with Harry and Romy, who were supposed to be his family and instead were barely speaking to him.
Harry and Romy turned towards the door where Clay was standing just in time to see their pack brother looking at them rather dejected and hurt before turning on his heel and walking out without saying another word.
“Clay,” Romy called out, “Wait.”
She went to go after him, but Harry grabbed her wrist; she turned to look at him, tears in her eyes as he shook his head. “I’d leave him for the moment, I’ll talk to him later, when he’s had a chance to cool off,” he said. If there had ever been any doubt about how Romy felt about Clay then it would have been made very clear as she allowed herself to be pulled into Harry’s arms for a hug.
“Oh, gross,” Romy said, withdrawing from Harry a moment later as she felt some of the leftover porridge that Harry hadn’t managed to wash off in the shower rubbed off on her cheek. “Don’t you know how to shower, it isn’t exactly difficult?”
“I’m out of practice,” Harry said in a huff. “That porridge went everywhere and I mean everywhere. It’s probably the most unpleasant thing I’ve ever had in my underwear and believe me I’ve had some pretty disgusting things in there.”
“Mr Filch did seem rather displeased with the porridge in the corridors,” Luna said observationally, stopping Astoria and Romy from asking Harry to expand on that particular comment any further.
“And that yoghurt took me at least an hour to wash out of my hair,” Romy retorted, wondering how anyone could manage to get various disgusting and uncomfortable things in their underwear; though, with Harry she wasn’t exactly shocked and she was sure that Clayton might have had something to do with it. Though thinking of him now made guilt writhe in her gut at what he had overheard.
“Repeat performance at dinner then?” Harry asked, trying to distract her from Clayton’s sudden appearance and just as sudden departure. He could see how much it was bothering her and he vowed that he was going to fix things between the three of them.
“Please don’t,” Astoria requested, clearly disapproving of that idea. Once had been quite enough in her opinion.
Romy sighed; it had been fun, but she was with Astoria on this one. “Maybe another day, after we fix things with Clay.” It just felt so wrong between them at the moment and she hated it; it was breaking her heart a little that the three of them weren’t together as a family as they were supposed to be. “I can’t believe he heard me say that. Do you think he’ll be okay?”
“I hope so, I don’t like it when we’re not talking,” Harry told her, echoing her own thoughts. It really did bother him that Clay was having a hard time and taking it out on the two of them. Since they had first met they had only stopped talking briefly after Harry had first joined the pack. It really bothered him when they weren’t speaking.
“We’ve not even been here a full week and we’re falling apart; we have to fix this before we go home for the full moon,” Romy said sadly, keeping her voice low when she mentioned the full moon. Astoria was packing up her books, clearly finished with her studying and Luna was still dancing to the rather out of tune song the books were still singing.
“We will,” Harry assured her. “I’ll tie him to a chair and force him to listen to me if he won’t do it willingly but we will fix this.” Romy appreciated the thought but she had a feeling that, whatever issues that Clay was dealing with, it wasn’t going to be resolved so easily.
FGHP
Voldemort was sat in his usual chair, lazily torturing the Carrow siblings in turn. They had brought him news from Hogwarts, or supposed news. Tom Riddle was a man who liked control; what the Daily Prophet had reported had put him at a disadvantage, something that he didn’t appreciate and he wasn’t about to let it happen again.
After the previous surprise published in the Daily Prophet he had taken steps to ensure that he was never so uninformed again. Taking control of the wizarding paper had been almost too easy and it hadn’t satisfied his lust for blood when they had surrendered to him willingly but at least he wouldn’t be blindsided again. As such he had already seen the article that would be gracing the front pages the next morning.
It had frustrated him that the only thing the two useless Carrow siblings had been able to tell him of use, was that Draco had successfully formed a friendship with Harry. It also seemed that the young Harry Prince was not exactly being agreeable with the headmaster; it was possible that simply by accepting the boy’s choice of name he would already be gaining points over Dumbledore in little Harry’s eyes.
He had been considering the boy more and more as of late and was well aware that the teenager would pose no threat to him, but Harry gave the Order hope, he gave the entire wizarding world hope and that was a dangerous thing. If Harry were to join him then that spark of hope would be extinguished before it could start a fire that would only be added to with the help of Dumbledore. He wasn’t stupid enough to believe that he would just be able to ensure the boys loyalty to him but that was where Gideon and the werewolves came in.
He knew that he would need leverage of some kind; leverage was always good when it came to the strong willed and the boy would certainly be that if what the Carrows had told him was true. He had known for a while that he wanted Harry Prince at his side, it was getting him there that would pose a problem, especially now that the boy was at Hogwarts and spending time with the old fool.
Dumbledore, however, didn’t have any control over the people that Harry cared for the most, whereas he did. He had werewolves at his disposal, werewolves that were surrounding, watching and reporting to him, in regards to the Greyback pack. Fenrir was a savage beast, by all accounts, and Voldemort much desired the beast of a man to also be at his side; that said, he would kill him and his entire pack if that was what it took for the Prince boy to cooperate.
Though perhaps it wouldn’t be needed; the boy had been sorted into Slytherin, after all, so perhaps there was hope for the boy. He might even come to his side willingly. Ensuring that he had leverage was a precaution he had to take but he was hopeful that Harry would see that his visions of the future for the wizarding world were the way forward.
For the moment, however, he had to be patient. He had what he wanted and if he said the word then the wolves he had watching the Greyback pack would swoop in and attack; according to Gideon they were all baying for blood, but for the moment they had to wait. Harry Prince was untouchable while he was at that school. Voldemort just had to think of a way to draw him out, somewhere that he wouldn’t be protected, and then he would be able to make his move.
“Leave me,” he ordered, breaking the curses he had on the siblings. He ignored the two Deatheaters as they all but crawled for the door; he had much more important things to think on.
FGHP
Breakfast on Sunday morning was abysmal for Harry. He had been in a sour mood anyway seeing as today was his Dad’s birthday, his mood only worsened when he got to the Great Hall and found some of his fellow Slytherins reading the Sunday edition of the Daily Prophet. Apparently him coming to Hogwarts, being sorted into Slytherin and being picked to be the seeker on the house Quidditch team was not only newsworthy but also so vitally important that it warranted being on the front page of the paper.
As it was Sunday, a lot of the other students were still in bed or doing last minute homework assignments. Romy had been sleeping in the Slytherin fifth year boys dormitory with Harry ever since that first night she had shared his bed; the other boys were even starting to get used to her being there and even considerately gave her an allotted fifteen minutes in the shower alone in the morning too.
Harry didn’t respect that of course; he was far too used to the nudity from the full moons and Romy too wasn’t uncomfortable with her pack brother there. This was something that the others couldn’t understand at all and only Draco knew why it was that they were this comfortable with each other. The other boys all just assumed that it was because Harry was gay.
Harry was grateful that the Great Hall was emptier than usual because, judging by the whispering and giggling, the article was going to be a hot topic of conversation for the day. He didn’t get a chance to see it until he took a seat at the Slytherin table beside Draco who only had Daphne for company this morning.
“Think someone has been telling tales about you to the Daily Prophet,” Draco said as he handed over the paper before Harry could even express a desire for it. He wasn’t even sure that he wanted to read it if he was honest but in the end curiosity won out and he looked it over, Romy reading over his shoulder.
“Great,” Harry grumbled sarcastically, as he started to read it over.
It was mainly drivel, speculation that was scattered with truth here and there. They at least had the main facts right. Though it seemed that the reporter who had written the article, Rita Skeeter, had a rather strong opinion regarding Slytherin house and the fact that Harry had been placed there. They called him Potter in the article too, another thing that annoyed him. He was getting sick of correcting everyone when it came to his surname.
“It could be worse, Harry,” Romy said, finishing off the article. She could see how frustrated Harry was with it but she knew that it could be a lot worse if they were reporting on his Lycanthropy rather than his Hogwarts house and position on the Quidditch team.
“A lot worse,” Draco agreed as he poured himself some coffee. “Just think about what they could be saying.”
“They keep calling me Potter!” Harry growled in frustration, hating it. It wasn’t so much the article that was bothering, though that was part of it, he just didn’t want to be known as Potter. Combined with the fact that it was his Dad’s birthday and he was missing him, this article had pissed him off royally; he was about ready to explode he was so angry.
“Seriously?” Romy asked, looking at her pack brother as if he were a little crazy. Out of everything that she thought might have been bothering him she wouldn’t have guessed that it was the use of a different surname. She had no idea why Harry was over reacting the way he was, in her eyes she couldn’t understand why he was so upset. “Out of everything in the article you’re bothered about being called Potter instead of Prince?”
“Yes,” Harry snapped, “I don’t care about all the other crap,” he raged, throwing the paper down.
“Harry…” Romy said tentatively, recognising the foul mood that Harry was in and really not understanding it. However, her pack brother had stood up from the table without grabbing a thing to eat and was storming off out of the Great Hall before anyone could do or say anything to stop him.
Romy watched him go, knowing that he would undoubtedly need a little time and space to cool off before it was wise to follow him. She saw that she wasn’t the only one watching him leave. Clayton sent her a questioning look across the Great Hall, she grabbed the paper and waved it at him in an attempt to show him what had upset Harry. Clearly Clay had seen it too, as he nodded before turning back to his breakfast. At the rate they were going she was going to end up knocking their heads together to sort them both out.
FGHP
Frustrated and in a mood after the article, Harry was walking the halls of Hogwarts. He felt bad for having snapped at Romy, but he was sure she would understand and forgive him. He would explain to her later that it wasn’t just about the article, today was just never going to be a great day for him. It seemed that she at least knew him well enough to know he would need a little time, as she hadn’t followed him.
He was wandering fairly aimlessly, glad for the time alone with his thoughts and not really paying attention to where he was going, though he was aware enough that he knew that he was close to the library. He was about ready to punch his fist into a wall he was so angry. He didn’t care about the article, they could publish whatever they wanted about him, truth, lies, whatever but only as long as they got his damn name right.
Completely lost in his own head and his righteous anger, he wasn’t really paying attention to where he was going or what he was doing; he realised just too late that someone had been following him and there was nothing he could do to defend himself as he was suddenly grabbed from behind and pinned firmly against the wall.

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