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What Are You Worth?	By : kati Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Fenrir Views: 109052 -:- 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
- 7
- 8
- 9
Chapter Eight

Caspian's pants came hard and fast. He was so thirsty that every time he swallowed, his dry throat flared as if dirty fingernails were carving patterns up and down it. He ran and ran, but he wasn't built for speed or agility, like Harry. His hulking body was for strength. He dodged around the thick tree trunks and crushed all vegetation in his path, which weaved around and around in infuriating circles. This further fuelled the panic drumming in his gut.

The frolicking werewolves all about him were carefree; they played, they fought, they mated, they lounged lazily on the last night of their transformation. When the sun rose, they would return to their human forms again.

Thousands of horrifying scenarios played through his mind, and all could be reality very easily. Harry: raped and left bleeding in a dark place where no one would find him before he bled to death. Harry: whimpering and running from a sadistic dominant who wanted nothing more than to torture him into insanity. Harry: lost and alone, wandering through the woods, completely terrified, thinking that Caspian had abandoned him on purpose in order to get rid of him for their father. Harry: dead and broken in a heap at the bottom of a dirty ditch. Harry: captured by the greedy and apathetic slave traders that roamed the land with their quick fingers.

So many horrid, heart-breaking possibilities... Where was Harry!?

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Harry was on a high. He trotted through the dark forest with awe and delight vibrating through his bones. This place was so beautiful! The forest was alive in a way that he had never recognised in his human form. He knew that with every step he took, he crushed millions of organisms under his soft paw. He knew that every breath that fed his body had at one time been a part of the trees around him in the most intimate of fashions, and in this way he felt connected to the trees. The trees that kept the ground rich and fertile; that blessed the land with water and growth; that stood as sentries guarding the soft, vulnerable creatures that lived with them: just skeletons with a mossy film stretched over the sharp bones, that tiny muscle twitching in that frantic beat in a vain attempt to prolong its own ephemeral existence.

He wondered at it all and delighted that he was a part of it, even for only three nights every month.

He could smell and see everything around him with such clarity and detail. The scent of each strain of fungus that carpeted the springy forest floor had its own unique edge that seemed to jump out at him. It was so obvious to him as he was now, but, he knew, when the morning came he would be lucky if fungus had a smell to him at all.

He trotted, leaped, sprung, sprinted, strolled, charged, and swung about the lightening forest with undiluted glee. He chased birds furiously. He toyed with mice idly. He investigated dark holes and nooks warily, but with a strange hope that he would find something that would give him a fleeting scare.

He did not worry about Caspian; they had become separated some time ago and he knew that they would find each other back at the Palace eventually. His wolven mind was at the forefront and his habitual human concerns meant little.

He was busy chasing a virulent young hare when a made a mistake.

His nose was low to the ground and his slightly clumsy paws were thumping an incredible tempo upon the moist ground as he strove to keep the speedy animal within his sight. He had no intention of killing it, but it was such a wonderful chase! His blood pumped loudly in his ears and his harsh, happy pants whooshed all about him. His tongue lolled from his mouth, wet and pink, and the murky scenery flashed past him. This was the fastest that he had ever ran in his entire life and it was the best, freest sensation he had ever experienced.

The bobbing tail disappeared around the thick circumference of a tree and he skidded to follow it. He gave an exuberant bark that he would have been embarrassed of if anyone else had heard it, and he relished the burning in his muscles. And then -- THUMP!

He collided head-first with a solid boulder two or three times his own size. He yelped and fell onto his side in a heap. That hurt.

He huffed through his nose heavily and let his paws twitch in annoyance: the hare would be long gone by now.

A steady thumping pain in his head slowly made itself known and he whined sadly. What a way to end his first transformation outside.

He considered getting up, but decided he was far too exhausted and sore. And by now the adrenaline had seeped from his system, so he lay there and listened to his heart slowing down.

Suddenly, there came a low rumble from above him. It might have been a growl, or perhaps a whine, but Harry couldn't tell by the deep, deep sound. Harry tensed and suddenly felt very exposed, lying on his side, soft belly vulnerable. A wet nose hesitantly nudged behind his ear and huffed in concern.

Harry opened a wary eye, frightened and intrigued at once. This wolf had a wonderful smell to them: a sweet musk that filled his head with a warm fog and sent shivers running up and down his spine.

A tight coil of terror bunched in his stomach as he came eye-to-eye with an icy blue iris. It was a lovely sky-blue on the outside and slowly paled into an almost white, maybe silver, lining around the inky pupil. It was a shocking, beautiful eye. But what scared him the ring of kohl-coloured fur around that piercing, earnest eye, set within a coarse sea of silver. Harry knew this wolf; everyone did. It was his Alpha.

For the first time in his life, Harry wanted to swear. He, an insignificant, annoying little submissive, had just careened head-first into the most important and violent werewolf in the land, possibly hurting him. And then, like a fool, he had lain there and whined like a selfish puppy when what he should have been doing was begging for forgiveness if not mercy. But he was too terrified, not to mention embarrassed, to move.

The beautiful eye blinked slowly and then backed off. Harry remained still on the ground. Oh god, what was going to happen?

A probing nose ran over his lightly shivering body slowly, sniffing and nudging. Despite the seemingly leisurely pace, Harry could sense the high tension in the solidly built body hovering near his. In reflex, he rolled onto his back with his paws hanging limply and bared his throat in the most submissive position he could muster, hoping against hope that he would be forgiven and released. But if punishment was delivered, then he would silently accept it. Oh, why had he wandered off on his own?!

He refused to look over his Alpha, although the urge was strangely intense, and certainly did not meet his gaze a second time; that would only exacerbate the situation. So instead he watched the trees meekly and felt the trembles plaguing his form increase in violence steadily as the large muzzle gently explored him.

The expected acceptance of his submission came, but it was very far from the harsh reprisal that every rumour and tale he had been told promised. Huge jaws, Harry whimpered at their near-ridiculous and lethal size, closed gently around his throat. The powerful jaws twitched in the tiniest of exertions and then removed themselves. Harry's eyes were wide. His throat was hot where his Alpha's breath had bathed it. That was not how it should go; only close family members reinforced the dominant-submissive hierarchy in such a peaceful manner. And not only that -- that had seemed strangely intimate. Harry remained confused and uncertain.

A silky muzzle carefully rubbed against his own in what Harry would have called a caress if it had not been the wolf that gave the attention. His body was tense in suspicion. The Alpha growled commandingly: the first act that Harry could associate with the man's reputation, and it was somewhat of a relief in comparison to the odd behaviour that he had previously displayed.

Harry understood with unusual clarity what his Alpha desired from him and turned his head to meet the wide-eyed gaze directed at him. The wolven eye curved in pleasure and massive white teeth were bared in a familiar greeting. Harry blinked and let a little hope bubble in his chest; perhaps this wasn't his Alpha at all? The wolf had not exerted any kind of authority over him nor administered any punishment. Yes, this was probably just a friendly dominant who seemed to be concerned for his health, rather than being irritated at being run into.

Slowly, his posture relaxed and he let his bushy tail wag just a little, still unsure of their situation and where he stood. The dominant noticed the change in the previously defensive and scared submissive and his tail wagged fiercely.

He backed off to a certain extent, encouraging him to rise, but remained unusually close to him. Harry righted himself and stood lightly next to the huge wolf, and glanced shyly up into the happy, angled face. The wintry eyes were alight and his long pink tongue lolled comically from between sable lips. Harry didn't really mind the close proximity: the enchanting scent of the masculine wolf was a pleasant drug.

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Fenir couldn't believe it. He was in utter shock. He was in ecstasy.

This was wonderful. This was unexpected. This was the best damn thing that had ever happened to him!

He had found his mate! The words whirled through his head like a song. The most amazing wolf: shy, graceful, agile, sweet, uncertain, innocent, beautiful beyond belief or imagination. He was delicate-pawed, green-gazed, fine-boned. He had a velvet coat of the darkest night, and a caramel smooth voice that rose and fell in melodious whimpers and whines, yips and yelps.

Fenrir could not understand how a lumbering, cruel joke of a mate had been given such a ethereal submissive. To top it off, it seemed that his mate - his MATE! - was gloriously submissive in the extreme.

When he had reached maturity, the idea of a mate had been a heavy burden weighing upon his mind: someone else that he had to care for, provide for, another wolf dependant upon him. But now that he had finally met the one that he was destined for, he realised that this was every werewolf's purpose and only happiness - to belong to another.

It was shocking for him, this tumult of immediate emotions that had never belonged to him suddenly filling him up. He had always assumed that having a mate would just mean another submissive to fuck, but the second that that little ball of midnight ink had crashed into him, he knew with all his being that he would do anything for him.

Fenrir watched with a delight that had never graced his heart before as his new and only companion chased a leaf dancing between the trees, overly-large paws lopping in an erratic rhythm upon the forest floor. The most gratifying and heart warming thing was seeing the little black wolf slowly losing his undeserved fear of him: he would never hurt this wolf!

At first, he had watched Fenrir's desperate attempts at play with wide and frightened eyes, but had eventually participated. At first he had remained guarded, and Fenrir's heart had pounded a frantic beat in his wide chest as he struggled to earn his mate's approval. But after much whining, nipping, barking, and chasing of his own tail (if anyone ever found out he would kill them lest the rumour spread), the tiny wolf eventually thawed and joined in. They chased each other and ran together. They tormented the squirrels of the forest (though they caught none) and lay panting together in the dirt. The longer they spent together, the more it dawned on Fenrir: nothing, especially himself, was ever going to be the same again, and he was looking forward to that change.

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- 9
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What Are You Worth?