Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Every Wolf's Bane	By : blade-of-the-shadows Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Fenrir Views: 29234 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 10
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any characters from Harry Potter, all credit goes to Rowling and I do not make any profit from this fanfic

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Harry, Fenrir, and Draco stayed at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place for nearly a month as Fenrir healed—having being beaten right after his transformation made his healing process drastically lower than usual—and wait until the full moon do that the werewolf could finally contact his pack. In fact, the next full moon was in two days. Fenrir was excited; he would be able to finally return to his pack, now that he wasn’t restricted by the wards surrounding the Manor. Harry was excited because it was his first transformation—though his eagerness was laced with anger as Remus kept trying to convince him to take Wolfsbane. Said man was surly and depressed because of the up and coming full moon. Draco either didn’t see the significance or just flat out didn’t care. And the Twins were just happy Harry was back.
He remembered when he saw them the next morning after escaping from the Manor. They were downstairs chatting with Remus when Harry came down. Both Fenrir and Draco were both still sleeping and, in the case of the former, probably wouldn’t be coming down for a while. Fred was going on about some new prank invention they were in the middle of creating with a grin, though it looked forced, and George wasn’t even trying, instead picking at his food with a depressed air. Remus was trying to stay upbeat, but his smile kept slipping into a frown. Probably because his thoughts kept slipping back to Fenrir sleeping peacefully upstairs. Harry scowled for a moment before slapping on a smile and sliding into a room.
Seeing him, the Twins immediately brightened and it was like he was never gone. Until Draco came downstairs, eyes only half open and his hair sticking up in cute little tufts. He obviously no longer cared about his appearance, as it no longer mattered as much since his father was probably going to disown him for betraying the Dark Lord. The Twins were a bit stiff, until Harry explained what Draco did, and then they were just as happy to see him just as they were Harry. Harry was in the mood to make breakfast, which he had began to do immediately after pulling away from George’s smothering, ignoring the protests of the others who claimed he looked too tired.
The smell of bacon woke Fenrir and the werewolf came downstairs with his eyes closed and his nose in the air. The Twins jaws dropped and they scrambled away immediately. Fenrir ignored them, still following his nose until he bumped into Harry. Then he proceeded to whine and repeatedly bump into Harry until the raven growled and snapped at him to sit down and wait like everyone else. Apparently Fenrir channeled his inner child in the mornings and did as Harry said with a pout. The image stuck and no matter how Fenrir tried to redeem himself, the Twins could no longer see him as a dangerous guy who killed people who looked at him wrong.
Harry wasn’t sure when he began to call Fenrir and Draco by their first names. One day he woke up and came to the realization that that was what he was doing. Draco did the same, unless he caught himself and in those cases he would proceed to growl and force himself to refer to Harry by his last name, scowling whenever Harry called him Draco. Fenrir, on the other hand, never had that problem as he always called Harry ‘pup’, and was actually content with Harry calling him by his first name as Harry was a part of his pack. Before, the werewolf used to grunt at him, but Harry quickly put an end to that by screeching at Fenrir for an hour, louder than Sirius’ mother ever could, when he was grunted at one too many times. Fenrir knew when to pick his battles and that was one, though he won’t ever willingly admit, he wasn’t going to fight.
Soon after that, Grimmauld Place fell under a guise of peace. The only one disturbed in the household was Remus, who avoided Fenrir something nasty and was trying to convince Harry to do the same. Harry couldn’t understand why his godfather was so hellbent on believing Fenrir was a bad guy—though he kind of was, Harry was well aware of what Fenrir was capable of—and that Harry was going to end just as bad if he kept hanging around the man. Harry did know that Remus was scarred from being turned into a werewolf at such a young age, but he and Fenrir both tried to explain to Remus exactly why he was turned so young. The werewolf was firm on his beliefs, however, and would listen to neither of them, even when Fenrir went Alpha on him. And then there was the issue with the Wolfsbane.
Harry also knew when to pick his battles and when he saw Fenrir’s expression when Remus brought Wolfsbane up, he knew that he was going to agree with whatever Fenrir said, no matter what Remus argued. A good thing he did to, because Fenrir looked ready to kill Remus over the potion. He claimed it was poison, slowly killing him, both mind and body. Remus scoffed at him, saying that he took the potion in order to control his wolf. At that, Fenrir completely lost it.
He destroyed nearly half of downstairs trying to get to Remus before Harry had managed to calm him down. It was indirect, however, as Harry had managed to get cut on an errant piece of splintered wood from a broken chair and, upon smelling it, Fenrir immediately calmed down to lick at Harry’s wound, no matter how superficial it was. Then he sulked off to his room, where Harry later found and questioned him on his reaction. Fenrir looked at him funny.
“Pup, Wolfsbane is literally poison for us, just like silver. In its purest form as a plant, a single leaf of Wolfsbane can kill a full grown Alpha in under an hour. I’m surprised Lupin hasn’t yet died from all the potions he’s been taking. No wonder he’s so terrified of the full moon; his transformation must be painful. He’s not only resisting himself, which is probably doing numbers on his wolf half, but also that potion is killing him. His wolf half must be utterly delirious with pain and sickness. We have to get him off that stuff and get him some help.” Fenrir growled, shooting Harry a glare.
Harry blinked. “What?”
“Take that shit, pup, and I swear—.”
“I won’t take it, shit Fenrir.” Harry rolled his eyes as Fenrir pulled him into an embrace, ignoring his assurance. “Stop being such a worry wart.”
“I’m not a fucking worry wart.”
He snorted. “Could’ve fooled me.”
And with the help of the Twins, once Harry explained to them what the potion was doing, they managed to find Remus’ supply of Wolfsbane and dispose of all of it before it was time for the man to begin to take them. Once Remus found out, he nearly went on a rampage. It was like watching a man go through withdrawal. It took him week to finally calm down and accept that fact that he wasn’t going to get his potion. Nor was Harry going to allow him to lock himself up during the full moon, which after taking a calming draught, he didn’t react nearly as badly to. Seeing his resigned acceptance, making his face look rather haggard, hurt Harry’s heart but it was needed in order to save the man.
Now it was the day of the full moon and not even Remus’ sour mood damper Harry’s excitement. He trailed after Fenrir all day—something he sometimes did unconsciously—humming happily. It wasn’t until the Twins came by later in the day, before dinner, was Harry distracted. They noticed Fenrir’s exasperation and proceed to lure Harry to them with the promise of a game of Exploding Snap and also to show him their latest additions to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezys.
“So when you wave your wand like this—see Harry—colorful sticky string will come out. And it won’t come off for a whole hour—.”
“Except if the person tried to take it off themselves, then another ten minutes will be added on automatically—.”
“It took us forever to get this to work, you know.”
Harry nodded, trying out the spell himself. “Can you use it for other things?”
Fred arched a brow and leered at him. “Oh? What did you have in mind, Harry?”
Not catching on at first, Harry looked at him strangely. Then realization dawned on his face and his cheeks flamed. “No! I just wanted to know you could use it for decorations or something! Like for a birthday or Christmas!”
George blinked, then nodded slowly. “That doesn’t seem like a bad idea—.”
“Thanks Harry.”
“No problem.” Harry smiled at them before returning to his wand-waving as he tried out the spell. Then he caught sight of Fenrir.
The man was walking by, glaring at nothing in particular, which to Harry was no different than usual at first, until he noticed the accompanying scowl twisting the werewolf’s lips and the stormy mood surrounding him. He jumped up immediately—Fred and George’s attempts to distract him now failing—and trotted after Fenrir, who was on his way upstairs. With his long legs, Fenrir could take two stairs at a time no problem, while Harry’s much shorter legs was restricted to one, meaning that Fenrir reached the top long before he did and was ambling off towards his room.
“Fenrir! Wait!”
Fenrir turned and, noticing it was Harry, scowled and kept going. Harry growled and began to run up the stairs, only just managing to catch the door before Fenrir slammed it shut. He slipped inside, closing the door softly behind him, and carefully made his way over to Fenrir. The dark brunette was sitting on his bed, glaring at the wall opposite to him and muttering angrily about something. Harry crept closer and sat beside him on the bed, leaning in so that he could look into Fenrir’s face, their shoulders touching.
“Fenrir?”
“What?!” The man growled loudly, pinning Harry under a hard, icy glare.
Harry flinched, but his jaw was set with determination. “What’s the matter with you? Why are you walking around here like someone shoved a dead cat up your ass?”
“Shoved a dead cat up my ass?” Fenrir looked at Harry incredulously. “Why would you—no, never mind. I don’t want to know.”
“So-o?” Harry scooted closer, nearly sitting in Fenrir’s lap, which he learned a while ago seemed to annoy the man. “What’s the matter?”
For a moment, Fenrir was silent. Harry could see his jaw shift, the muscle rolling under his skin, which usually meant the man was thinking. So he waited patiently, knowing Fenrir would eventually tell him, one way or another. It was so long, however, that he was beginning to zone out in the silence. He jumped when Fenrir spoke, nearly falling to the floor.
“That godfather of yours…why’s he so bent on denying his other half?”
Harry blinked and looked up at Fenrir, who looked genuinely confused. “Well…he grew up around no one but bigoted wizards who were completely against anything ‘non-Light’. For Remus, being turned so young, meant that it was a lot easier for him to absorb what the others were saying—that he was a monster and shouldn’t be allowed in society. To make matters worse, everyone knew he was turned by you, who is only known as a psycho-crazy murder by the wizards. To a young Remus, it must have been hard trying to live with his family who was afraid of him. So…he did everything in his power to repress that side. That habit has…apparently co0ntinued as he grew older.” He finished quietly.
“And what about you?”
“Me?”
Fenrir grunted. “Yeah, you grew up with the same bigoted wizards, and yet…”
“Oh.” Harry smiled grimly. “Funny story really. I didn’t actually grow up here; I was raised by my Muggle aunt and uncle. I told you about them already—I was treated like completely shit by them because I was a wizard.?
“What?” Fenrir grabbed him by the arms and lifted him so that they were face to face. “I thought you were just saying all that crap to get me to talk.”
Harry snorted. “I wish it was a lie. I think that I’ve been able to accept what I am even after spending majority of my life believing that being a wizard made me low dirty scum because I’ve had people show me just how great being a wizard is. How awesome magic is. Maybe that’s all Remus needs. Someone to show him that werewolves aren’t mindless killers and are actually so much more.”
“Fuck Remus.” Fenrir growled, his eyes glinting dangerously. “Who the fuck are the Muggles who hurt you?”
“It doesn’t matter.” His breath hitched as Fenrir’s grip on him tightened. “It doesn’t, Fenrir.”
Fenrir snarled. “The fuck it doesn’t. You were nothing but a kid. Now tell me their names or so help me, Harry—”
“You’re hurting me!” Harry growled out, pulling on Fenrir’s fingers.
Then he gasped as he was suddenly let go, dropping to the floor. He looked up to see Fenrir standing above him, nostrils flared and jaw clenched. The man was pissed, Harry could tell that much, but he wasn’t sure who exactly the anger was directed at. Taking a guess, he slowly stood and stepped closer to Fenrir, wrapping his arms around the werewolf’s torso, pressing a cheek on his hard chest. He received no reaction.
“Fenrir? Had it been anyone else, I would tell you in a heartbeat. But they are still my family, no matter what they did to me, and I know your anger. I know what you would have done. What’s done is done, and I’d rather not go down memory lane. So—.”
He abruptly stopped when a large hand landed on his head. Fenrir didn’t say anything, just pressed Harry’s head harder into his chest, letting his fingers tangle in Harry’s messy hair. In turn, Harry held his breath, choosing to wait until Fenrir was ready to talk. He wouldn’t be able to get the man to do so any other way. When Fenrir took a deep breath, he bit his lip and tried to look up. The man’s face was hard, but when he looked down at Harry, his eyes were soft.
“I get it, pup. And I…didn’t mean to push you like that.”
Knowing that was the best apology he was going to get, Harry grinned. “It’s fine. The full moon is close so I know you’re a bit more grumpy than you usually are. You got mad at me last time too, when I called you Mr. Grumpy pants.”
Fenrir growled. “Don’t fucking call me that.”
Harry grinned up at him cheekily. “Okay Ser Grumps-A-Lot.”
The growl Fenrir let out had Harry giggling like a little kid. His laughter came to an abrupt end when Fenrir shifted, grabbing his arm and pulling it close for inspection. The werewolf grunted and began, as he always did, to gently run his tongue over the faint bruises forming on Harry’s skin. In Harry’s opinion, the bruises weren’t even really that bad, they certainly didn’t hurt any more, and didn’t need Fenrir’s attention. But he was knew how meticulous the man was about his physical health, though he wasn’t quite sure why, and definitely knew better than to complain about it. Last time he did, he got a scowl and a clip on his ear.
~oOo~
The sun was now set and Harry’s initial excitement was now replaced with nervousness as he waited for the moon to appear. He remembered a piece of his conversation with Fenrir from so long ago. Merlin, an entire month ago.
“…I ain’t gonna let you die so soon after being a wolf for the first time. Shit, imagine not ever going through your first change. Bloody hell.”
“Does it…hurt?”
A laugh. “Does it hurt? Of course it fucking hurts! The first time is going to hurt like a bitch, but it gets easier and less painful. Stop worrying like a little bitch.”
Harry shivered as he looked out the window. After all he went through, taking pain wasn’t much for him, but that didn’t mean he wanted to have to feel it. He spent majority of his life in pain; now, he was sick of it all. At least this time, this pain, had good results. He would be a werewolf, for the very first time.
He looked up from his position, curled in a comfy armchair beside the window, when he heard light footsteps approach. At first he thought it was Draco, but he was no less surprised to see that it was Fenrir. The man was impossibly quiet for his size, an apparent trait in werewolves, it would seem, as Remus was the same. Fenrir stopped in front of him, hand held out; his expression was impassive, cold even, but his eyes were swirling in excitement.
“Up, pup.” He grunted. “Time to go out. Moon’s about to rise.”
Only hesitating for less than a second, Harry grabbed Fenrir’s hand and allowed the man to lift him from his seat. The two headed for the kitchen, and from there the back door and outside. The kitchen was where they found Remus, hunched over himself as he stared, his eyes a bit haunted, out the window. Draco was also in there, staring at Remus as he chewed on an apple. Fenrir sighed and hauled Remus from his chair with hardly a grunt.
“Come on, you pitiful little shit. It’s only gonna hurt more if the moon doesn’t hit you directly.” He snorted at Remus’ surprised expression. “Didn’t know that didja? Kept yourself locked up in some cage, hidden from the moon, hurting yourself more without even realizing it. You’re ridiculous.” He then proceeded to drag Remus outside and throw him on the ground a few meters away.
Harry followed them at a slower pace, a small grin now gracing his lips. To him, it seemed as if Fenrir had gone just a bit lighter on his scorn towards Remus. Which meant that the man had went and took Harry’s advice. That made Harry happy to learn that Fenrir was going to at least give Remus a chance, and there was an evident bounce in his step when he approached the two. Fenrir shot him a questioning look, which he ignored in turn for plopping down next to Remus, close enough that their shoulders pressed together. He also ignored the scathing glare Fenrir gave him.
The look Remus gave him was wretched. “It’s my first time without Wolfsbane since my first change.”
“I know.”
“I’m scared, Harry.”
“I know.”
“What if I kill someone?”
Harry turned to face Remus. “You won’t. It’s not like that, Remus, not at all. Your wolf only acts the way he does because he’s alone. If you accepted him into yourself, accept the fact that he is you, then everything is so much better. The way humans portray us is fucked up and only taken from what they seen from rogue wolves. In that sense, we are the same. There are good wolves and bad wolves, just as there are good humans and bad humans.”
“But Harry…”
“Don’t worry, Remus. It’ll be fine, I’m sure. I mean, I was locked in a cell with Fenrir when he changed, and I’m completely fine.”
Remus growled, his pitiable expression shifting to one of anger. “No, you’re a werewolf now.”
“And that’s not better than me being dead?” Harry stood and glared down at his godfather, his mood switching easily with the approaching transformation. “Because that’s what I’d be if Fenrir didn’t change me. Not because he would’ve eaten me or something stupid like that, but because Voldemort would have killed me. Is that what you want, Remus?”
He huffed away before Remus could respond. Fenrir had been ignoring them, instead crouching on the ground and staring expectantly up at the darkening sky. Harry joined him, curling a bit into his side. He was expecting the man to push him away and was pleasantly surprised when Fenrir only shifted to accommodate Harry’s weight leaning on him.
“That sounded like it didn’t go too well.”
“I didn’t know you were listening.”
A shrug. “I wasn’t.”
Harry chuckled. Then Fenrir tensed, causing him to look up. His eyes widened as the brilliance of the moon peeked over the horizon. When the first moon beam hit the ground, Harry could feel the change within himself. He could feel the soul of his wolf rising to meet and merge with his own. It was a wonderful feeling and Harry gasped in delight. He heard Fenrir’s own pleased noise, and another—more surprised one—coming from behind him. But then the pain came.
It was only natural, as shifting bones, muscles and organs should be, and Harry knew it was coming but it was unexpected after the feeling from merging his soul with his wolf’s. His gasp this time was painful and cut short as he fell forward on hands and knees; his skin shifting and growing darker with coarse hair. He could feel Fenrir’s heavy weight pushing against his side, a silent sign of support even as the man himself went through similar pangs. There was a pained whine, behind him, louder than even his own. He had no time to react, as another spark of blinding pain passed through him.
His fingers looked twisted and gruesome as he dug them into the soft dirt in pain. His spine cracked and popped and suddenly he jacked up, his back arching into the air at an inhuman angle. His face morphed, nose and mouth elongating into a muzzle. He could feel each and every one of his organs shift, all his bones crack and change, his skin stretching and fur growing.
The process was extremely painful and yet Harry didn’t, couldn’t, make another sound. He took all the pain as part of his punishment. Even if he no longer liked them, he still killed many people—a family. His family, his friends, once upon a time. Maybe one day he would grow to not care anymore—he was already half way there—but for now he felt as if the pain was his atonement. It soothed his raging heart. His back jack-knifed again and this time he let out a growl, low and inhuman. When he relaxed again, everything was different.
Black fur, soft and sleek, covered his body. He was smaller, much smaller than before, and his body would have been considered lithe if he weren’t so malnourished. His eyes were the same though, still a vibrant green. His legs were long, his body narrow, his muscles smooth—the physique of a runner. Long sharp teeth, razor sharp nails, and a tail completed his new physical repertoire.
A rough tongue licked his muzzle, causing him to look up. When he saw a dark grey wolf—Fenrir—towering over him, he realized that he was lying in the dirt and immediately jumped into a standing position. Only for his knees to buckle and he wobbled to the side. Fenrir caught him before he hit the ground, nosing him in the side until he could stand on his own without his legs shaking. He looked up at Fenrir, wanting to scowl when he realized the man was still towering over him. Then a feeling of elation went through him—he was a wolf! The pain wasn’t even as bad as he thought it would be and it was completely worth it.
Then a rough whine behind him cut of his happiness. Remus! He carefully turned around and trotted over to the man-turned-wolf. Remus’ fur was a soft, sandy brown, the same as his hair when in his human form. Harry marveled at the huge form of his godfather—he was only able to see him from distances, never so close. He wasn’t quite as big as Fenrir, but Harry was sure that if Remus stood, the man would also tower over him.
He leaned forward to nudge Remus with his nose, letting out a soft whine of his own. Remus didn’t move, just eyed him. Doing it again the same way got no reaction. Harry did it again, harder and with a growl, and finally got a reaction. So fast Harry couldn’t react in time, Remus shot forward with a snarl and bit Harry. He whined and jerked away from Remus, dancing back. Without realizing what he was doing, he sent out a distressed sound with his mind:
“Fenrir!”
Reacting immediately to Harry’s call, Fenrir rushed forward with his own snarl, his more deeper and menacing, and clamped his teeth on the back of Remus’ neck. He was much larger than Remus, but after spending so long in a cell with the bare minimum about of food to survive left him weaker than he usually would be. Remus let out a growl and bucked up, trying to dislodge Fenrir’s hold. Harry danced in place, not knowing what to do.
Fenrir looked up, straight at Harry. The raven immediately stopped fidgeting when he met icy blues eyes. There was nothing but cool determination in Fenrir’s gaze, stamping down Harry’s initial panic.
“Pup. House. Now.”
Harry couldn’t disobey the orders even if he wanted to. He immediately turned tail and bolted for the house. It was fortunate that, so immersed in his thoughts, he forgot the close the door. As is, he zoomed in and nearly crashed into a counter. There was a snicker and his head shot up as his hackles automatically rose. Then he relaxed as he recognized the scent before he even recognized the face. Draco. The blonde was sitting in the chain Remus had vacated not but a few minutes ago. Harry assumed he was watching their transformations. Made him wonder how it looked to someone not going through it themselves.
He slowly trotted over to Draco, not wanting to startle the blonde, and plopped down on his bum beside the chair. Draco looked down at him with an arched brow, the remnants of his laughter earlier now showing on his face with a small curve of his lips. Harry scooted a bit closer and bumped his head against Draco’s hand. The blonde understood what he wanted and he began to rub his hand through Harry’s ruff, his expression thoughtful. He looked out the window, at the brawling wolves.
“I wonder who will win. They are fighting due to Lupin’s reluctance, I presume?”
Harry’s tongue lolled out in a wolfish grin as his head jerked forward in a nodded. Draco, not noticing the movement as he was still focused on the ongoing fight—something Harry did not nor did he want to see—continued to speak.
“Greyback’s going to win, I am sure. He is one vicious fuck.” He looked down when Harry nipped on his hand. “Well, what do you expect me to believe, Harry? He was nearly dead when we found him and not but a month later he is completely healed—fighting even.”
Unable to explain, Harry simply glared at him. Draco rolled his eyes with a sigh.
“It is not like I believe those preposterous rumors about him. Not after what I have seen this past month. And I think I might just be digging a deeper hole for myself, aren’t I?”
A single nod answered his question, the movement somehow dangerous. Draco huffed, turning his gaze back to the fight outside.
“You do not have to be so prissy about it. What is going on between you and Greyback anyway? Half the time the two of you are yelling at each other and the other half you are following him around while he ignores you and—oh, look. Greyback seems to have won.”
Harry’s ears perked up and he slipped from under Draco’s hand to trot for the door. He stopped immediately, seeing Fenrir towering triumphantly over a slumped over and panting Remus. Then his legs moved on their own accord and he was across the yard, stooping down to sniff over Remus. He whined gently and began to lap at his godfather’s wounds, ignoring the grumbling and shifting. They were superficial, but long. Fenrir really did a number on him. Harry huffed at said man when Fenrir tried to nudge him away. Fenrir responded by nipping at his ear.
“He’ll be fine. If you flutter over him like a mother hen, it’ll disgrace not only him, but me.”
“He’s hurt—.”
“By his own right. Leave him be, pup.”
With one more whine, Harry backed off of Remus. The sand-colored wolf relaxed in the dirt, resting his head on his paws and closing his eyes. Fenrir nosed Harry until the raven backed a couple of steps further. Then he turned away and sat down. Harry, now curious, turned his attention from Remus to Fenrir and joined the man. There was a moment of silence and then—
“Awooooooooo!”
A long, continuous howl. It made Harry jump. The only time he heard a howl was from afar, and now being right beside the howling Fenrir made him realize just exactly how loud a howl was. He was going to join, until some deep instinctual urge from within him prevented him from doing so. It was the Alpha’s Call. Fenrir was howling for the rest of his pack, beckoning them to join him. So Harry sat and waited until Fenrir was done. And as he waited, he thought. By the time Fenrir finished, he was panicking.
“Fenrir, how are they going to find number twelve? It’s under a Fidelus charm!”
The dark grey wolf snorted. “They’ll find it. Don’t worry. Depending on where they’re at, they’ll be here later tonight or early tomorrow morning. For now, let’s go inside.” He grunted disapprovingly. “No forest to hunt in.”
Harry followed dutifully as Fenrir urged Remus up and made his way into the house. “When the rest of the pack joins us, we’ll be going to—…where are we going?”
Fenrir glanced back at him. “Our old place has been compromised, so I’m sure the pack has found a place. If not, then they’ve been on the move—camping out at night in clear areas to sleep. Should that be the case, then it’ll be up to me to find us somewhere to live.”
“…Okay…”
~oOo~
The pack didn’t come at any time that night. Nor were they there in the morning when Harry woke up. He even went as far as to check outside to see if they were stuck by the charm. It was clear.
Fenrir was on edge. Though he didn’t say it, he was worried about his pack. Harry could see it in the tension of his shoulders, the way he paced through the halls. And he didn’t know what to do. He wanted to help Fenrir, but knew that the man wouldn’t accept it. Besides, he didn’t even know how to help. So he cooked instead.
It became natural for him to wake up before everyone else and begin to make breakfast that no one questioned it. Not even when he kept going, making more breakfast food than necessary, and from there moving on to desserts. That’s when everyone—save Fenrir, who was immersed in his own thoughts—began to question Harry’s motives.
“No, nothing. I just—I need something to do. Fenrir’s worrying me and I can’t do anything about it…but this.”
When it was Remus, the man pursed his lips and walked away. When it was Draco, the blonde pinned Harry with a glare and put his hands on his hips.
“Well, you’re going to waste all the food cooking everything. No one can eat all of this, Harry! If you need something to do, come flying with me. I know you still have your Firebolt, and your old Nimbus 2000.”
Harry hesitated, then nodded. He dusted his hands off on his apron before taking it off and hanging it on the hook beside the stove. “I do still have both. Let’s go fly.”
A whole hour passed without Harry’s notice. Flying felt great and his worries eased away. It was so long since he flew that it was like a breath of fresh air. He and Draco raced, or challenged each other to do the most dangerous maneuvers. The hour passed and when he felt an interruption in the wards was when he finally blinked and remembered where he was. He and Draco shared a look and landed immediately. They both took off towards the front door, meeting Remus on the way.
“It’s not the Twins, they would’ve came through the Floo. Were you expecting anyone, Remus?”
The werewolf shook his head. He looked miserable, with dark circles around his eyes and his skin pale and covered in thin scratches and bites. But he definitely looked better than how he usually looked after a transformation. Harry was sure it was because he didn’t take that filthy poison, Wolfsbane.
Fenrir walked up, feigning nonchalance with his hands in his pockets and his eyebrow arched. “No one gonna get that?”
Just then the doorbell rang. Harry cut off his glare on Fenrir to answer it. A man stood there, with a friendly grin. He was tall, maybe Remus’ height, but broader in the shoulders and chest, like Fenrir. His eyes were warm brown, and his hair was short and light, sun-bleached brown. There were laugh lines around his mouth and eyes. He was also a werewolf, as far as Harry could tell.
“Hello. Um, I’m Lance—.”
“Where’re the others?” Harry leaned out, looking around.
Lance blinked. “Excuse me?”
Harry snorted, ignoring him in favor of looking back inside. “You gotta be shitting be, Fenrir! There’s only one other person in your pack?”
Fenrir grunted and Harry moved over to let the man access to look out the door. He ignored Lance’s gaping face, also looking around. When he noted the lack of pack members, he pinned Lance with a glare.
“Where’s everyone else?”
“Somewhere safe.” Lance stopped gaping, but appeared otherwise unaffected by Fenrir’s glare. “What the hell, Fenrir?”
“Get inside. I’ll explain.”
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Every Wolf's Bane