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The Distance In Your Eyes	By : Pfeifenkraut Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Fenrir Views: 30080 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 8
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5. Journey Back Home - 1

Yellow eyes looked up from their dead prey, fixing Kerr. Crimson blood was smeared all over the wolf's muzzle and throat, dirtying the greyish, silver fur. Bits of robes and pieces of flesh were hanging out of its mouth.

Terrified, the human took some steps back and the hand holding his wand shivered with fear.

The wolf started growling, fangs bared.

Shocked at seeing his partner mutilated in front of his eyes, a shriek escaped Kerr's throat.

Turning, he tried to escape into the depth of the forest but he slipped on the muddy ground, his wand falling from his grasp. Hastily, Kerr tried to get back to his feet but flinched as pain shot through his body starting from his ankle.

Immediately the wolf used the other's opening and jumped at him, paws stretched out in front of it.

A disgusting snap was heard upon the impact of the wolf's heavy form breaking Kerr's spine and several rips. Some of the bone splitters pierced his lungs. Slowly blood filled the damaged organs, making it harder and harder to breathe. At the same time blood was pressed into his head and throat.

His vision faded until it was completely black.

Choking on his own blood Kerr desperately grabbed for his lost wand when he felt sharp teeth at his upper arm, enclosing it in a strong jaw while saliva dropped onto it.

Lightheadedness began to fill his consciousness when his blood filled lungs started to give out, not transferring enough oxygen into his blood stream. His struggles became less and less as numbness slowly set in.

The wolf bit down hard; flesh, muscles and bone bursting apart at the heavy pressure.

A muffled scream escaped Kerr's throat, coming out more like a gurgle than anything else due to the blood that was blocking his windpipe.

Then he felt moist and clammy air at his neck, caressing his quivering, slightly blue-ish skin.

His unseeing eyes widened but it was already too late as teeth bored themselves into his vulnerable throat, breaking it so that it lolled lifelessly back and forth when the wolf opened its jaw.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Damn those two fuckers!

They hadn't been in the possession of his mate! Stupid dimwits!

They should have been! After those obvious innuendos they should have been! But no, it hadn't been his mate they had in their possession! It had been a pathetic foxan – a cross between human and fox – that had been stupid enough to let itself be caught by the bastard's incompetent henchmen.

Really, they had been so obvious the foxan should have been able to sense, smell or at least see their presence but no! It hadn't. Even with its inferior senses it should have realized its danger.

Such stupid animals weren't supposed to be alive!

At least it had been intelligent enough to run away before he had gotten his claws on it.

And he still didn't know where his mate was! He wanted to hold him, damn it! Provide for him, care for him. He wanted to possess the little brat, to the very last pore that was on his body.

Damn it! It wasn't supposed to be like this! The little one shouldn't have been kidnapped. He should have returned with Fenrir to his pack. He should have given him pups and he should have lived happily ever after with him!

It shouldn't have been like this, damn it! With this kidnapping shit and everything!

Where was he?

The two vermin hadn't been helpful at all! Then again, dead bodies seldom were…

Fenrir spat out while stepping confidently over the dead bodies. They hadn't even tasted that good.

He had needlessly lost time slaughtering the scum for nothing! Fucking idiots! It had been completely for nought!

Oh but as soon as he got his claws on the other bootlickers they would wish they hadn't been born! Kidnapping his mate! How dare they!

A ferocious growl escaped his lips as he strode through the forest.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

There was nothing much Harry could do against the cold invading his wet body, but he was grateful for every opportunity he got to heat himself up. He would only be able to fend off the chill once he got out of his drenched shirt, and who knew when that would happen.

His head was the only thing that was not covered by the blanket and it was looking around for something interesting to hold off the attacking fatigue.

As soon as he gave in to sleep he would be out for several days, of that, Harry was sure. He couldn't allow that to happen.

Of course, he wouldn't be able to remain awake for however long it would take him to reach London, but right now would be the worst time ever to fall asleep.

A change of clothes would keep him from succumbing to the cold. At least he hoped so...

Harry spotted several fast food containers standing at random places. He hadn't noticed earlier but now that he had time he realized he was starving. A growl seconded his realization.

Bob laughed and said, "You hungry? Take a look into the glove compartment. There should be some biscuits." After some rummaging Harry found said sweets and started eating them.

They were strangely dry but edible.

Gazing further around, he saw a newspaper.

His eyes widened. He had no idea how long he had been staying with Greyback. And for that matter he had no idea which day it was or which date.

"Mind if I read your newspaper?" Harry asked out of his blanket pile.

"Sure, go ahead." Bob answered, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

Reluctantly, Harry stretched out his hand – after all it was cold out of his blanket – took hold of the paper and looked at the date.

His eyes widened at seeing the day. He had been staying with Greyback for about ten days? How had he managed to stay alive? He should have been dead by now! And why had nobody looked for him?

They were wizards, for crying out loud! There surely was a method they could have used to track him down! Magic could achieve a lot, after all!

Harry didn't believe that he had been too deep in the clutches of nature for his friends to find him. There just had to be some kind of spell for aurors to find kidnapped witches and wizards!

Then again, Voldemort's victims were never found in time... Maybe there wasn't a spell like that, after all...

So he had to take matters in his own hands and get back home. But it would have been nice for someone else to solve the problem of getting back for him because he was tired of always having to get himself out of danger all of the time.

Where was Bob headed anyway? If Harry didn't know better Bob would be headed in the exact opposite direction the boy-who-lived wanted to go.

That would be bad...

Then again, as long as he could stay in the heated driving cab everything would be alright.

Pulling the blanket closer, Harry asked, "Where are you heading? Don't get me wrong, I don't want to be rude. But it would help me to plan my travel route."

"It's okay, don't worry." Bob said. "Headed to Manchester. Is that on your way?"

Damn it. He had no way of knowing if that was on his way. After all he had no idea if he had been in the south of Manchester or in the north. How could he question him without sounding suspicious? Because honestly, he would sound quite suspicious if he asked where Bob had been coming from. That would imply that Harry had no idea where he and his "friends" were driving for holidays. And that would be a dead give-away that he hadn't been fighting with his "friends".

Harry had had luck with his first story, but there was no way Bob would believe something like that!

So how to answer that question?

He couldn't just say "somewhat". After all if Bob had been coming from somewhere around London, that would mean it was a detour for Harry.

"I'm heading home for London." Harry finally answered.

Bob laughed again.

Had that been the wrong answer? Had he given himself away?

Anyway what was it with Bob and his constant laughter? Was he on some kind of drugs or what? There was no way for Bob to be this cheerful!

Damn it! All this thinking was enhancing his headache and fever! And Bob's loud laughter didn't help, either.

"That means we can travel some together! I'm coming all the way from Edinburgh. But wouldn't it be better for you to go to your holidays place? After all wouldn't that be closer? Anything is nearer than London."

"Yeah, probably, but I don't want to spend my holidays with them any longer."

"Annoyed with them, aren't you?"

"Yes, quite."

"Want to call your parents?"

Oh shit. What now? He couldn't tell Bob that his parents weren't alive, he was living with his relatives who didn't give a damn about him, and the other people who cared about him had no idea how a telephone or mobile worked, let alone how one looked!

"Well..."

Damn it. Sometimes it was really not practical to have such backwards friends who didn't have a clue about technology.

Of course! Hermione! How could he have forgotten her? He mentally slapped himself.

Last year, after yet another destructive school year, she had insisted on him learning her mobile phone number in case something happened. After all, Voldemort had just been revived and nobody could be sure what would be happening next.

So she had forced him to learn her number and had made sure he remembered it by using a stupid memory hook.

"Do you have a mobile? I'm afraid mine's still with my friends." Harry lied. He didn't like lying to Bob but right now it couldn't be helped.

"Take mine. It's in the glove compartment."

Sure enough Harry found it after some rummaging.

Looking at it, his eyes grew distant and he began to contemplate.

Hogwarts had four different houses. He dialled the four.

They were five guys in Griffindor dormitory. He added a five.

The Weasleys were a family of nine. A nine.

They had seven children. A seven.

The order's headquarter was Grimmauld Place Number twelve. Twelve.

The order had 27 original members. Twenty-seven.

They had gained two new friends in two different schools – Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour. Twenty-two.

Pressing the green button he waited for Hermione to pick up her phone while he looked out of the window.

After some time an enquiring "Hello?" was heard.

Surprised, Harry asked, "Hermione?"

"Harryyyyyyyyyyyy! Oh my god! Is that really you? We've searched everywhere for you! What happened? Where are you? Are you alright? Did Greyback hurt you?"

Having put the phone some inches from his ear after her screeched 'Harry', he allowed himself to relax and a small smile crept onto his features. Relief shot through his tense body at hearing his friend's familiar voice.

Now everything was going to be alright. She would be making sure of that. Hell would freeze over before she would let him perish in the midst of nowhere. The wheels in her head were probably already reeling thinking about a way to get him away from wherever he was without knowing anything about the situation.

In an exhausted voice he interrupted her rambling, "I'm fine, Hermione, really. I'm beat and just want to get back home. I probably run a fever, too."

"Ok, we're going to get you. Where are you?" She asked. He just knew that she had been worrying herself sick about him. "And make sure to keep warm if you really have a fever. You'll have to sweat it out."

"Right now I'm wrapped in a blanket so stop worrying. I'm just a bit dizzy. All I need is a good night's rest. I'm hitchhiking in a lorry at the moment. Wait a sec, I'll ask Bob where we'll stop next."

"Carlisle is our next stop. I'll get a bit more cargo there." Bob said who had obviously been listening in to the conversation.

Nodding, Harry turned back to the phone, "Did you hear that?"

"Yes, I'll tell the others. Can I call you back later to let you know the details?"

"Can she call your phone later as soon as she gets a hold of mum and dad?" Harry asked Bob, hoping that Hermione would catch on.

"Sure can do." Bob said.

"Yes you can."

"Ok then I'll call you back later. Make sure you keep out of trouble." She said, worried.

"Ok, later." He said.

"Later."

XXXXXXXX

Twenty minutes later – at least Harry assumed it to be twenty minutes later because he couldn't be too sure with his fuzzy mind – they finally reached the promised petrol station.

Bob disappeared to who knew where and Harry, armed with a new set of clothes, strode over to the not so clean toilets.

Changing out of his wet and way too revealing shirt Harry looked at his shoulder in a mirror after peeling off the crusty bandage. It hurt while pulling off the dirty and red stripes. The bite wound was still red and angry but funnily enough mostly healed. He didn't dare to touch it for he feared it would reopen so he left the remaining blood on his skin. Right now pain was shooting through his body because the adrenaline had finally left his body and didn't numb it any more.

Trying to move his shoulder as little as possible he gingerly and very slowly put on the plaid, worn out pullover Bob had given to him. The large, washed out jeans were held in place with a belt.

Harry was painfully reminded of his time with the Dursleys, but this time he didn't wear Dudley's, but Uncle Vernon's clothing.

But right now he was more than thankful for every last piece of clothing he had been offered. After all, they were a lot warmer – and more decent – than the shitty shirt Greyback had dressed him in against his will.

Sighing, he moved over to a toilet seat and sat down to examine his torn feet. They were torn open and bloody. Mud of the forest floor was contaminating them and stopping them from closing up. Ghastly gashes were bleeding steadily, oozing out pus. Taking some tissue he hesitated for a moment to clean his feet, but in the end did do it. Wincing when he lightly touched the bloody surface, he continued to wash out the lacerations and pulled out the thorns afterwards.

Silently cursing the fact that he had nothing to bandage his feet with, he pulled on a pair of socks he had gotten from Bob.

Absent-minded, Harry went back to the truck and got back in, waiting for Bob to return.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The rain had stopped. Last droplets of water dripped heavily from the leaves. The moist atmosphere created foggy wafts of mist. The air smelled clean and fresh, only a slight, underlying smell of blood contaminated the air.

Fenrir's amber eyes scanned his surroundings for any clue of his mate. The ancient trees, however, remained quiet and didn't tell the alpha anything about the pup. Their whispers had fallen silent completely.

He regarded them for any mark his mate could have left on their bark. But there was none.

Searching for hours the trees started to become less and less until they revealed a street.

Eyes narrowing, he went towards it for a slight dent in the ground had caught his attention.

Coming to a stop in front of the street, he noticed several footprints.

Crouching down he studied them.

There were two different imprints. One was large and booted.

Fenrir immediately dismissed that one as unimportant and turned his eyes to the other footprints.

Those were significantly smaller and barefooted. His eyes widened when a slight smell of blood penetrated his nose. Dread filled him as he recognized the familiar scent. Looking closer Fenrir saw small bloody parts in the imprints of his mate.

Fenrir growled.

How dare they? How dare they touch his mate? How dare they mutilate only a small part of him?

Damn it!

His eyes dilated in fury as he glared at the booted footprints.

Estimating from the dent the imprints had made into the earth, the guy – it was too large for a bitch's foot – was either tall, or fat, or both. Surprisingly the old and worn out boots were the ones of a muggle because he couldn't detect a magic signature except the one of his mate.

Fucking Death Eaters! They didn't have the guts to do the job themselves and had to put an unsuspecting muggle under the Imperius to do their dirty work!

Frigging scaredy cats! As soon as he got his claws on them they would wish that their mothers had killed them at birth!

And he would get them!

He apparated away in a swirl of darkness.
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The Distance In Your Eyes