Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

What Are You Worth?	By : kati Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Fenrir Views: 109051 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 17
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
They stopped for their evening meal just as the sun was setting. They all filed out of the carriage and the servant who had been driving them also hopped down from her perch.

Harry and his brothers were just about to settle themselves on the hard path to eat, when Marylla stopped them with amusement and condescension dancing in her eyes.

"You do not have to sit upon the rough ground! Shete will set up for us."

Harry blinked; set up? Set up what?

Whilst the mass of people around them gazed enviously as Shete, the servant, sleekly erected what looked like a small palace in cloth form. She pulled all the materials and the group's belongings out from a hidden compartment beneath the carriage on its outside. After only five minute's frantic labour, a luxurious dwelling had been constructed for them to enjoy.

Richard and Paul shared a look that clearly said, "We definitely struck gold with this lot!"

Caspian was rethinking his initial rejection of the odd pack.

Harry simply could not believe his eyes. Was he really allowed to eat and sleep in there? Was that possible?

Marylla and Rook instantly fled inside to the comfort that the rich tent could provide, whilst the Priestess, unsmiling, thanked Shete with a formal nuzzling of noses, who then moved to care for the horses. The Priestess turned to her guests and swept her arm gracefully to the side, indicating the rich, wine-red of the velvet tent-flap.

Harry hung back to allow his brothers to enter first and was left alone with the Priestess. He was waiting for her to go in; she was his superior. After a long silence in which Harry did not hear the lady move into the tent, he looked up apprehensively, not entirely sure why he was nervous.

It could have been the dead aura that the Priestess possessed; as she had no mate she was neither dominant nor submissive. You could always sense which a person was without even realising that you were taking in the information. The nothingness that stilled the air around the Priestess was unnerving and seemed perverse.

He caught the blue, piercing gaze in question, intending to look away immediately but being stopped by something in her expression. Harry was good at reading people's faces usually, but could not place exactly what the intense study meant. He shivered as their eyes remained connected and she took a step forwards -- away from the tent. It felt like she could see right through him and into his true self: past the flesh; past the muscle; past the bone; right into his thumping, red heart, slick with his lifeblood.

He didn't understand what she wanted or what she was doing. Was she angry? Was she going to hurt him? No! He had thought that he had gotten away from all this!

She was right in front of him now, barely half a foot of insubstantial air separating their tense bodies.

A flash of white caught his eye and he broke their connection to watch her remove her soft glove.

His brow furrowed and he glanced back up into her face. What was she doing?

Her voice came low and husky, "I wonder..." He watched her thin lips twitch as she placed a cool, bare hand upon his cheek. Her eyes remained open but were blank and unseeing -- the eyes of a blind person or of a person who saw everything.

Harry remained perfectly still and was aware of nothing but the cooling air and the warming hand.

After a moment the blue eyes snapped back into focus and an unexpected grin flooded across her face, showing off squint and yellowing teeth.

She clicked her tongue and told him, "I knew it!"

She swept his bangs away from his forehead and pressed a dry kiss between his bewildered eyes. Her breath was hot against his ear as she whispered, "Do your best, and then do more."

With that she removed herself from his personal space and ducked into the tent from which soft sounds of merriment, most probably created by Marylla and Richard, emitted.

Harry swayed on the spot in confusion for a moment longer before tentatively stepping into the tent, desperately hoping no-one would take note of his entrance.

__________________________________________________________________________________

He allowed his right hand, thick-fingered and calloused, to snake around the throat of the whimpering werewolf before him. He applied no pressure but allowed the ominous threat to linger.

"I'll ask once more," the harsh grate of his quiet voice seemed to be the last straw for the quivering man and warm, wet fingers of urine caressed the twitching skin between his tightly clenched thighs.

Fenrir growled in disgust and his nose wrinkled in distaste. He tutted, then hissed in the man's abnormally small ear, "Pathetic..." He stroked the man's sweaty cheek and squeezed his right hand harshly and suddenly. "Where is your Alpha hiding? Where is Raphael? Give him to me!"

The man's eyes bulged sickeningly as the powerful hand around his throat did not relent.
With a garrotted groan the man bit down on his dry tongue.

Fenrir snarled in frustration and allowed the man to drop to the floor, writhing, as salty blood flooded his throat and seeped from the corners of his tightly pressed lips.

His Beta murmered with his eyes to the filthy flagstones of the dungeon, "Should we assist him, my Alpha?"

Fenrir sighed and narrowed his icy blue eyes upon the form of the man drowning in his own blood. "No, leave him. I trust you to dispose of the body, Nile."

He rose to his feet and stalked from the dark room. He had been careless, but the next time such a golden opportunity arose he would be more vigilant.

He considered sending for a servant to fuck, but resignedly decided that with his mate's imminent arrival, such encounters would have to cease.

As he settled beneath the covers of his bed, he wondered whether his elusive mate would turn out to be a curse or a blessing. He snorted: they had better be fucking fantastic between the sheets!

__________________________________________________________________________________

It was one more night until the full moon; it seemed that they had perfect timing. The majestical palace, once a monastery for French monks in the ancient human reign, was beyond enormous.

It was situated in the middle of an estuary on an island of land, and was only accessible by a thin stretch of sand that was immersed by the water at high tide.

It looked like a layer cake. The huge structure had piles upon piles of buildings and gardens fitting snugly together in unconventional and imaginative ways. The pathways and streets looped around and over each other in an obscure mess. The myriads of different coloured stones were sprinkled like sugar over the whole city. People crowded and clambered over the entire mammoth, looking like ants on their ant-hill.

The streets, houses, and shops all spiralled up to the main palace, a giant wallowing in the sea.

Atop the highest peak of the palace a golden angel glinted in the sunlight, proudly presenting his sword to the heavens.

They were still miles away, but now that they could actually see the palace Harry could not swallow away the lump in his throat. He glanced over to Rook, whose eyes were as wide and fearful as Harry's own. Rook returned his gaze and attempted to smile encouragingly but only managed to produce a grimace.

Harry laughed softly at his new friend and Rook shakily breathed his own emulation, trying to relax.

They had, despite the barrier of Harry's lack of speech, become good friends, although Rook remained in awe of his silent and gentle companion. He hoped they would not lose contact after the Ceremony; one of them may acquire a controlling mate for all they knew, that would disallow any friendship.

For Harry this was his first friend, if you did not count his brothers, and he was truly grateful. Rook was sweet and funny, and as a result of Rook's own shyness and uncertainty, Harry felt more relaxed and confident around him. He hoped that his own company was satisfying for Rook also, as he didn't want to force himself upon the nice boy, who he discovered was Russian.

Harry had managed to convey that he was Spanish, but Rook hadn't believed him, which was very confusing.

They watched a line of haggard werewolves shuffling back along the pathway, which the Priestess had called a "motorway", coming towards them. People in their own flow, towards the Palace, occasionally were seen to stop and ask the tired travellers where they were going. Apparently the disgruntled people's explanation did not sit well with the people in their own line, and a few tantrums were observed before someone dragged the unhappy characters onwards.

Harry wondered what was going on, and wanted to question the Priestess as she had attended numerous Ceremonies, although admittedly not on this scale, and must have had some idea as to what was happening. He didn't like to ask, however, as he would probably make a fool out of himself, and if he was patient he may find out eventually anyway.

He was pleased, therefore, when Rook turned to his mother, who positively doted on him, and asked her exactly the question on his mind.

"Well," she began, "the palace is massive and has lots of room for guests, but not enough for everyone this time, so the Alpha is asking for everybody to register at the palace, and then head back out to the land behind us to set up camp. For those who do not have camping equipment sufficient for such a long stay, I am certain appropriate equipment will be provided by the Alpha. Am I not correct, sister?"

The Priestess glared, but inclined her head in conformation.

Rook frowned. "Does that mean that we're going to have to camp in a field for weeks? How horrible!" Harry thought of the flamboyant tent that Rook's small pack owned, which was just as lovely on the inside as the outside promised, and then of the "appropriate equipment" that the Alpha would be distributing on such a huge scale to the miserable werewolves that were unable to afford such luxuries. No wonder those poor people looked so fed up!

"Oh, don't be silly, my sweet, little cub! We aren't expected to live in such a manner! We are guests of honour, are we not, O Great Priestess?" Marylla smirked conspiratorially at her sister, who did not acknowledge her.

Richard swore in Spaish, but Marylla seemed to understand as she turned the full force of her dazzling smile upon him. "Don't worry, sweetie, I'm sure we'll be able to pull a few strings for you."

Richard's face lit up in admiration and relief. He exclaimed, "Really?"

"Yes, we are very important people!" For some reason that Harry could not fathom, as she said this her eyes locked upon his and glittered with a darkness and cunning that he had not noticed in her before.

The Priestess looked up sharply, shattering her aloof silence with a hissed, "Shut UP! That was spoken in confidence!"

Marylla turned her flashing eyes to her sister and they seemed to blacken further with a sick resolve. She purred, "Of course, sister. Forgiveness, please."

The Priestess for once seemed unnerved, but also suspicious, as she returned, "Of course." She turned away.

Everyone's eyes were wide and confused as they watched the sisters apprehensively, afraid that the skin on their faces was about to melt off. What on earth were they talking about?

Harry reflected that the Priestess sure did have a lot of secrets.

__________________________________________________________________________________

Caspian muttered, "We sure are lucky to have caught a ride with you guys."

Marylla laughed. "It is a pleasure!" She pawed Richard's chest possessively. "Your company is delightful, and my dear Rook gets on with Harry so well. They are uncannily alike, are they not?" She smiled adoringly at her distracted son.

Caspian raised a brow, forever rude, and looked the mortified Rook up and down leisurely as he muttered snidely, "Yes, it is uncanny."

Harry didn't really get how Caspian was insulting Rook, but he knew his brother and could tell from his tone that he was being unkind. He squeezed his brother's knee gently and scowled reproachfully. Caspian dutifully looked suitably guilty and shut up.

They were making their way up the winding streets at a sedate pace, mostly due to the throngs of people who had to get out of their way for the ostentatious carriage to squeeze through the narrow ways.

Harry supposed that they were lucky: they had met the Priestess and her family; they had ridden in an expensive carriage; they were provided comforts and luxuries on what would have otherwise been a very difficult journey; and they were going to be allowed to stay in the Alpha's palace when so many others were being turned away.

However, despite all this, and the fact that they were blessedly miles away from James, Harry could not settle his nerves. This was going to be a life-changing experience. There were so many people here that he was very likely to be leaving the palace in a few month's time with his mate. Either his mate would be kind, or they would be cruel. He wanted to stay in contact with his brothers and Rook, but if his mate was the sort that liked their submissive to be truly dependant on them, physically, emotionally, and financially, then there was no way that he would ever see his friend or family again.

And what if his mate did not like him? What if they found his body repulsive, his skills lacking, and his company displeasing? He could not even provide his mate with proper conversation! What was he going to do...?

Strangely, as they came closer and closer to the palace, the buildings became larger and the streets wider. This made Harry feel slightly worried as it made the city feel top-heavy, as if at any moment it would topple over and crumble into the salty water.
- 5
- 6
- 7
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

What Are You Worth?