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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
- 8
- 9
- 10
Fragmented Soul

Chapter 9 - Pain

It had been Four days since Fenrir had forced Damon to submit to him and the pack had settled back into its normal rhythm. All apart from Harry. The rest of the pack had accepted, after some explaining from Jenson and Micha, who had both been part of packs before, that power struggles and the Alpha asserting his dominance, were perfectly normal. Fenrir’s mood had evened out but he was keeping a very close eye on Harry just in case he accidentally injured himself again. However the young wolf had not attempted to socialise with the pack again.

They had hoped that after a couple days things would return to normal, that Harry would go back to talking to Lukas, Romy and Callie at the very least. However he hadn’t spoken to anyone. Callie had attempted, with minimal success, to engage him in conversation when checking over the injuries to his hands. They had healed nicely thanks to Harry applying copious amounts of dittany, which was glad he had thought to take from his Father’s potion supply room when they had been in Ingleton. The blisters were almost completely gone and the skin wasn’t nearly as red as it had been four days earlier when he’d first sustained the injury.

Harry had remained by his tree, his backpack clutched close to him. He remained there, huddled into himself, even at night. He wouldn’t even venture into the clearing to sleep with the rest of the pack. This was something that grated on Fenrir, particularly as he was concerned that his little mate would be cold. It was nearing the end of October now and the next full moon was only a day away. The weather was starting to close in and not even their charms and wards could keep it away completely.

Lukas had brought him extra hides and blankets to ensure that he was comfortable and warm. He’d also been bringing Harry meals, as it had been made clear that not even hunger was going to force the young werewolf to re-join the group before he was ready. Lukas had received a muttered “thanks” each time he had brought something to him but nothing more.

Harry had remained huddled by his tree, his mind churning. He had watched the bruises upon his wrists worsen to a dark purple, which he had been careful to hide, even from Lukas. His werewolf healing was clearly starting to kick in as they were beginning to fade slightly now and were just an unattractive greenish yellow. However they were still there and Harry couldn’t forget.

He’d been overthinking everything the entire time he had been sat beneath the tree but his thoughts had mainly been with the potion and the amount he had been taking. He knew that it wasn’t enough. Tomorrow night he would change again, his second full moon with the pack and he hadn’t got enough of the potion in his system. He knew that he would have to risk returning to Ingleton; he would then be able to use his cage, ensuring that no one would get hurt and he would also be able to brew the potion again.

He wasn’t sure if he intended on coming back to the pack after that. He hadn’t made that decision yet but he knew that he wouldn’t be here for the full moon. It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go afterwards though. The pack, however much he didn’t want to be there, were all he had, now that his Dad was gone and that depressed him. That was if the pack, and Fenrir, accepted him back after he returned to his cage for the full moon. He knew the Alpha would be furious but Harry just couldn’t find it in himself to care anymore. He needed to stop thinking about Fenrir as an attractive man that he was crushing on. Instead he needed to think of him as the violent, domineering Alpha wolf that he was.

Night fell quickly, the pack was tense and anxious about the coming evening and the transformation, normally it would have been filled with excitement but, with one of their own still isolating himself, it didn’t feel right. However, they all soon settled down to sleep around the fire but not before Lukas came to check on Harry at his tree, to make sure he was alright and asking if he’d be joining the rest of them. Harry had shook his head and then watched his pack brother as he returned to the clearing to turn in for the night.

Harry waited until the sounds of the pack breathing deeply, some of them snoring quite loudly, came to greet him. He had spent the last three nights memorizing them, learning when each one of them were deeply asleep. The low snores of Fenrir were what he was truly waiting for. Any of the others he could deal with if they caught him running but not the Alpha.

Throwing off the hides and blankets he had covered himself with, he took his backpack flinging it over one shoulder and taking out his wand. When he got to Ingleton he would have to be careful in case there were Aurors still lurking around. They were going to be in for a nasty shock if they were. If they walked in on him while he was in wolf form then it wasn’t his fault if he killed them. They should have known better.

Harry moved slowly, slowly and deliberately through the forest, however he hadn’t even got close to the boundary, where he would be able to apparate home, before someone called his name. He had grown up with that voice, there was no mistaking it. His best friend, the one he had failed to talk to since arriving in the pack. Harry closed his eyes in regret, he didn’t want to have to have this conversation, or, more likely, this argument, now. It was the early hours of the morning and it was cold. He could feel the magic under his skin, searing his nerve endings telling him that the change was soon.

“Go back to sleep, Clayton,” Harry said in exasperation without turning to face him. He already knew it was a futile request to make but he knew if the other werewolf chose to rouse the others, he would never get far.

“You’re leaving?” Clay asked and genuinely sounded hurt.

“Just for a couple days,” Harry said, still unable to find the strength to turn around and look at his friend. If he did he feared that he would lose his resolve to leave without saying goodbye to the others, all of whom he had genuinely come to care about, even if he felt as if he couldn’t talk to them at the moment.

“But the full moon… oh…” The revelation and feeling of betrayal was evident in Clay’s voice and for a moment Harry felt guilt overwhelm him at the disappointment he heard. “You’re going back to that cage aren’t you?” Clayton asked, already knowing the answer.

At this Harry finally turned to look at him, surprise written all over his face. “How did you know about that?” he asked with confusion.

“Fenrir asked if we knew about it,” Clay said with a shrug, “I can’t believe you never told me!”

“You never told me anything either!” Harry raged, trying to keep his voice low out of fear of waking the others. The last thing he needed was the entire pack judging him again. To feel their eyes on him, knowing that he had wanted to supress his natural instincts as a werewolf and was willing to lock himself in a cage, one made of silver, was too much to think about.

“I wasn’t allowed to, Alpha’s orders!” Clay said angrily, “I was there to protect you, befriend you, but I couldn’t tell you anything! I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t.”

“Like any grown up saying no has ever stopped you before!”

“Orders from the Alpha are different, Harry.” Clayton took a deep breath, realising that he wasn’t going to get anywhere with this argument. “I’m sorry, okay.”

“You’re sorry?” Harry asked, enraged, dropping his backpack on the floor and stowing away his wand. “You’re fucking sorry!?” he said, louder than he intended, closing the distance between him and Clay and giving him a hard shove in the chest making him stumble.

“Fuck, Harry, how many times do you want me to say that I’m sorry!?” Clay asked as he found his footing again.

“I’m not interested in sorry. I’m interested in my best friend lying to me! I’m sure you’ll be so happy here.” Harry said, it was taking all of his effort not to start shouting. “You belong here with all of them, they’re your family!”

“You belong here too!” Clay told him with exasperation, “You’re family!”

“No, I don’t!” He was just as fed up as his friend was, he was tired of the whole pack trying to convince him he was one of them; and to think he had almost been stupid enough to believe them. “If I was family, you wouldn’t have hidden anything from me. My Dad is my family, no one else!”

“Yeah well, your Dad’s dead!” That was enough for Harry, who saw red and pounced on the other unsuspecting werewolf, his fist connecting with Clay’s jaw with a surprisingly loud sound.

“Fuck, Harry!” Clay cried out as he fell backwards, hitting the ground hard; Harry’s fist was curled around a handful of his friend’s clothes and so he tumbled with him. Harry swung again, colliding with Clay’s face, splitting his lip. He shoved at Harry, trying to stop him. How had it come to this? A fist fight in the middle of the night. His own fist caught Harry’s face and his only thought, as his friend finally let him go, was that he hoped the Alpha wouldn’t be too angry.

Clay reached up and felt his now definitely bruised face, wiping away the blood from his lip. “Okay, so that was a dickish thing to say,” Clay admitted, “but I meant what I said about you being family.”

Harry ran his hand over his jaw where Clay had hit him, getting to his feet unsteadily. “Well I meant what I said about my Dad being my only family,” Harry said crossing his arms over his chest defensively and glaring at the other teen.

“You want to be that way, fine,” Clay said pushing himself up off the ground; Harry was always so damn stubborn, “but you aren’t leaving the territory!”

“Wanna bet?”

“I am going to keep you safe, whether you damn well like it or not, Harry. You will always be family to me, no matter what, you’re like a brother to me, and it isn’t my problem if you can’t deal with that. I have been protecting you since we were eleven years old.”

“I never asked you to protect me, Clayton,”

“No, that is exactly the point, the Alpha did,” Clay tried to explain, why couldn’t Harry understand that this was what it meant to be a pack wolf.

“Yeah well, the Alpha can go fuck himself for all I care!”

“Harry!!” He wasn’t sure he had ever heard anyone say such a thing about an Alpha before, half of him wanted to laugh because it was just SO recklessly Harry.

“I have no… obligation to him.”

“He took you in without question, fed you, took care of you ….”

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me!”

“So that’s why you’re running off in the middle of the night with nowhere to go.” Clay felt like something had just clicked in his mind, like he would see Harry’s thoughts as clearly as his own. His wonderfully stupid friend. “What? Are you going to prove yourself? Prove you don’t need anyone, just so you never have to risk losing anyone else again. Death happens, Harry! It is horrible, it sucks, but it happens.”

“It shouldn’t have happened to him. I’m the reason it happened to him.” Harry was crying again, and that wasn’t what Clay had wanted, but if they had to talk about this for Harry to understand, for him to stay, then so be it.

“It happened to him because he loved YOU, Harry,” Clay said kindly. “He loved you more than he wanted to live. Great way to honour his memory, running potentially straight into the open arms of his murders.”

Harry broke down completely at his words. Finally someone who understood that his Dad had died for him. He didn’t want to make that sacrifice in vain but equally he just couldn’t stand the thought accidentally hurting someone when he transformed. Clay knew him, really knew him; he understood what was eating at Harry’s mind without even having spoken to him in weeks. Maybe their friendship wasn’t quite as fake as he had come to believe.

“I just… I can’t let anyone else get hurt…”

“You saw us all on the last full moon!” Clayton pointed out. He knew that wizards believed that werewolves were monsters, but surely Severus had not raised Harry to believe that; Clay couldn’t understand why Harry was so scared of his wolf. “We weren’t behind bars, nothing restrained us and we didn’t hurt anyone.”

“I can’t trust myself without the cage, I’ve not had enough of the potion!”

“Potion?” Shit, Clay thought, so there was more that Harry was doing to control himself during the full moons. The others had already said it wasn’t wolfsbane, so he dreaded to think what it could be.

“Fuck…” Harry swore in panic, “Never mind, if you tell Fenrir about that and I’ll never forgive you!”

“You haven't forgiven me anyway!”

“Yeah well, I’m starting to,” Harry mumbled.

“You don’t hate me then?” Clay asked, hopefully.

“I never hated you, I’m mad at you but I don’t hate you. You’re still my best friend.”

“For the record, I’m really, really sorry,” Clay told him, taking a step towards him and trying to meet his eye.

“I know you are.”

“And if it means that much to you I won’t tell Fenrir about the potion.”

“Thanks.”

“But he’s worried about you, we all are. You need to tell him!”

“I know!” Harry almost yelled; he was glad that Clay would keep his secret but the guilt of it was already nagging at him. He knew how much the pack meant to his friend and didn’t want to put that at risk, but his secret was just too important.

“Please don’t leave.” Harry met his eyes at those words, surprised by Clay's pleading tone.

“Clay … I have to,” he told him.

“No, you don’t. I’ll make sure you don’t hurt anyone.”

“You can’t do that, Clay.”

“Yes I can, besides do you really think that Fenrir will let you hunt humans?”

“I don’t know what to think about him,” Harry said somewhat bitterly.

“Trust me, you’re more likely to hunt humans away from the pack than with us.”

“I don’t know…” Harry so desperately wanted to believe him, but he wasn’t sure he could risk it. He knew he didn’t want to risk it, but he felt short on viable options.

“You can’t just leave, Harry, it isn’t safe for you out there. Besides, Fenrir won’t just let you go! He might seem like a hard arse, and in most respects he is, but he cares about you, about all of us.”

“It didn’t look like he cared about Damon the other day.”

“Yeah well, shit like that happens in packs, he’s Alpha; he can’t appear weak, not even to the rest of the pack.”

“It’s barbaric,” Harry said with disgust, remembering how Fenrir had grabbed Damon by the throat, slamming him to ground as if he were nothing more than a rag doll.

“We’re werewolves,” Clay said with a shrug. “Come on, I’m freezing, let’s go back, please.”

Harry looked uncertain, glancing in the direction of the clearing where he could see the glow of the fire. “Do I have a choice?”

“Oh by all means go.” Clay shrugged again, he knew Harry well enough to know that given him no option was the surest way to make him rebel. “I give you half an hour before Fenrir has tracked you down and dragged you back.” It was true too; the Alpha wouldn’t hesitate to put a difficult member of the pack in their place, which in turn would make Harry fight back harder. It was a downward spiral that Clay knew he had only one chance to stop.

“Fine,” Harry said in defeat, realising that he wasn’t going to get very far this evening; Clay was right when he said that Fenrir would know where to find him. “I’ll stay,”

FGHP

Fenrir had heard them yelling at each other, Damon had too, and the both of them remained awake, silently acknowledging that the other was conscious while they listened to the two young pups argue. When the shout had first been heard Fenrir had wanted to charge over and intervene and to protect his mate. Damon however had shook his head, knowing that the two of them needed this.

“They need to work out their issues, my Alpha,” Damon said cautiously, speaking carefully, not wanting another performance like the one a few days previously.

“They’re fighting,” Fenrir said with a low growl of anger as he heard the first punch come into contact with flesh.

“Clay won’t hurt Harry,” Damon said softly, “They’re like brothers, let them bicker, they won’t seriously injure each other, I doubt they have it in them to do that to one another.”

Fenrir grunted unhappily. He wasn’t pleased about allowing Clayton and his little mate to fight and argue, potentially injuring each other, which would not end well for Harry with the way things stood. However he could see that Damon was right. Clay and Harry were supposed to be the best of friends and yet they hadn’t spoken in over a month. If this was what it took to get them talking, and at least being civil to one another, then so be it.

The Alpha however didn’t relax and allow himself to fall back to sleep until he saw both the pups returning to the clearing and snuggling up together by the fire. Neither of them looked hurt, at least there was no scent of Harry’s blood in the air, only a faint trace of Clayton’s. It was the first time that Harry had slept with the rest of the pack since Fenrir had had to assert his dominance over Damon. It was a good sign and he took that to mean that things were not beyond repair.

FGHP

Tom Riddle was causing Albus Dumbledore trouble, honestly the boy had been causing him trouble for getting on sixty years, which was particularly frustrating as the dark wizard now had himself the body of someone in their late teenage years. It was his method of surviving, of anchoring himself in life, that was currently what Dumbledore was battling against.

It shouldn’t have been his responsibility but due to Severus Snape’s meddling, Harry Potter was not currently available to shoulder the burden as the boy had been born to do. He had not appreciated having to dig through the rubble that was the old Gaunt home, even with magic, but the ancient ring was now safely wrapped in a velvet rag as he returned to Hogwarts.

He would examine it more carefully once he had returned. He expected that he would have to listen to whatever his more competent professors had to report. He expected they would have the usual complaints about Umbridge and the Carrow’s, but he honestly had better things to worry about and would simply fob them off with a falsely sympathetic ear and it would have to wait until he had dealt with the insidious contents of pocket. Did he honestly have to take care of everything?

Soon, he reminded himself; soon the perfect weapon, Harry Potter, would be there and he could begin to teach the boy his place, show him how it was his responsibility to save the wizarding world from a monster, or else carry the guilt of failure. The boy should consider himself lucky to have had so much of the work done for him, after all, Dumbledore had finally solved the great mystery of how to destroy the horcruxes.

Fiendfyre was one of only a very few solutions but while Dumbledore knew himself to be capable of controlling Fiendfyre, he had no reason to believe the boy would be and as such he knew he had to create something the foolish child wouldn’t simply destroy himself with. The use of Gryffindor’s Sword had been a combination of his usual genius and a dash of luck.

He had been mulling the whole problem over, with the sorting hat on his head so as to have someone to discuss it with, when something rather heavy seemed to knock him on the top of the head from inside the hat. A goblin made sword, one that had been believed to have been lost to the mysteries of time, and it had presented itself in a time of great need as though confirming that to Dumbledore's mind that he was on the right course. From there it had been a simple process to imbuing the ancient blade with the power of Fiendfyre and the moment it was exposed to the dangerous spell the goblin magic more or less took care of that for him.

He sat himself in his large chair behind his desk and pulled out the tiny object in its velvet wrappings. It had been too easy to find and that made Dumbledore suspicious of it; it was implausible that Tom Riddle would leave a piece of his own soul, and more importantly one of his keys to his immortality, so vulnerable.

Dumbledore lifted his wand and carefully uncovered the horcrux; levitating the ancient ring and rotating it to view it from all angles. There was something about the stone that was familiar and he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. It didn’t matter either way, he still had to destroy the blasted thing, no matter what it was. It would come to him eventually he was sure.

Glancing out of his office window he saw the bright shining moon, it was full tonight and it made him think of Harry. He was going to have to keep a closer eye on the lunar cycle from now on. The boy was in a pack, of course, and they would all transform and be roaming around somewhere this evening. When Harry Potter finally got to Hogwarts, Remus Lupin was either going to be his greatest asset or his biggest weakness. Albus was going to make sure that it wasn’t going to be the latter.

Standing up he took great care as he levitated the cursed ring, which contained a part of Tom Riddle’s soul, onto the floor. He took the sword of Godric Gryffindor in hand, caressing the jewelled handle with love and affection, it was a magnificent weapon and now enchanted with the Fiendfyre which only made it all the more powerful and, of course, the only device with which to destroy the horcruxes.

                With one swift movement the elderly man demonstrated that he still had a lot of life in him yet, bringing the blade up over his head before crashing it down upon the ring. Instantly a hissing began emanating from the heirloom, black smoke screamed out of it, swirling around him with frightful power. It took a few moments but went it quietened and the object seemed to be dead, the stone that had been embedded into the gold band fell out, the metal cracking in two.

                Picking up the stone carefully with the fabric, not sure if there would be any remaining curses upon it, he finally realised the true significance of what it was that he held in his hand. He had finally done it, he realised with sudden jubilation, he finally had access to all three of them. The Deathly Hallows. Of course Remus Lupin still had the invisibility cloak but he could easily get it back and then he would be the master of death.

FGHP

                Clayton had his best friend back and that was all he could think about. That and the fact that the full moon was once again upon them and they would be able to enjoy it together as a united pack. Damon had given his adoptive son a stern telling off for punching Harry in the face but Fenrir thankfully hadn’t got involved, not seeing as Harry had given as good as he got and drawn blood.

                The Alpha had known that Clay had just been defending himself, Harry’s temper was becoming well known within the pack, though it was nothing compared to his own. Fenrir was just glad that Harry had resumed his friendship with Clayton, and that his little mate was still with them. He hoped that, like the last full moon, it would be a chance for him to get close to Harry, make his intentions towards him known and take care of him in a way that the stubborn teenager wouldn’t allow while they were in their human form.

                Magic began to crackle in their clearing as twilight settled around them. Harry once again stood slightly apart from the rest of the pack, his nerves having got the better of him once more. He shouldn’t be here, he hadn’t drunk enough of his potion, he needed to be in his cage so that he wouldn’t hurt anyone. With it being the end of October the weather was steadily getting cooler and it made him think of the warmth of his basement room, craving it desperately.

So lost in his own thoughts Harry didn’t even realise that the Alpha was standing right before him until a large hand came to rest gently on his cheek. He looked up into the startlingly golden orbs silently. They hadn’t had much in the way of interaction since Harry had injured his hands and the Alpha had asserted his dominance over Damon. The large dominating man still terrified Harry however he wouldn’t shy away from him. Instead he just stared up at him in defiance, amazed at the gentleness of his touch.

Harry had managed to convince himself that this Fenrir didn’t exist, that he couldn’t be real. The tenderness just a front to cover the brutality and the cruelty of his true nature however as they stood staring at each other he just wasn’t sure anymore. The Alpha appeared to have two very different sides to him. One of them reserved especially and exclusively for Harry, it was a thought that made the younger werewolf’s stomach tingle.

                “Don’t worry, little one,” Fenrir grunted softly for only Harry to hear, “It will be okay tonight.” The Alpha lightly butted his head gently against that of his little mate, an affectionate gesture that left Harry reeling as the Alpha went off to the rest of the pack, knowing how uncomfortable Harry was when it came to undressing in front of the large group.

                Harry watched as Fenrir shrugged off his old brown jacket, the rest of the pack also beginning to undress ready for the change. He could feel his skin tingling as he drew his shirt up and over his head. Harry’s eyes never leaving his Alpha, however Fenrir, deciding that if Harry wasn’t going to be subtle then neither was he. He rested his golden gaze upon the now shirtless teen, appreciating the smooth, hairless chest and also the blush that rose in his cheeks as Harry realised he was being admired.

                The Alpha couldn’t help but grin smugly as he heard his mate’s intake of breath upon realising that they were both staring at each other. Harry’s beautiful emerald eyes seemed fixated on the Alpha's waist as Fenrir popped the button undone, exposing the top of his public hair to the younger man, Fenrir never taking his eyes off of Harry who seemed to struggle with the fastening of his own jeans. Their exchange seemed to be exclusively for one another, ignoring everyone else around them.

They may have been standing meters away from one another but their exchanged looks had enough heated intensity that they may have well have been standing chest to chest on the verge of sharing their first kiss.

                It frustrated the Alpha when Harry seemingly lost his nerve and turned his back to him so to lower his trousers, clearly still self-conscious about baring all to the pack. Now fully nude Fenrir strode confidently towards his little mate, wanting to share some form of contact. His wolf was too close to the surface, normally he wouldn’t have dared for fear of scaring the little one away.

                If it hadn’t been for the full moon about to take control of them then he would never have been so brazen in their human forms. The large Alpha encircled his arms around the teenagers waist, lowering his lips to his ear and whispered, “eep” so softly that only Harry could hear, as the transformation began to take hold.

                It would have been a perfect moment if it hadn’t have been for a gut wrenching scream that left Harry’s lips a moment later. The change had started off the same as it always had for the young werewolf, his temples throbbing, the tingling sensation spreading from his spine throughout his limbs and the rest of the body as his skin began to stretch with the change. However the slight burn had increased into an inferno and it felt as if he were being burnt alive within his own skin.

                Harry would have fallen to the ground if it wasn’t for the grip of the Alpha around him, as Fenrir looked at his mate in terror. There was always pain when it came to the transformation but never this bad. There was something seriously wrong. Staving off his own change as best he could, in a way that only an Alpha wolf would be able to do, he lowered his little mate to the ground, worry knotting his insides.

                Unable to do anything to help Fenrir curled up around his mate as his own change claimed him, holding his mate tightly as Harry screamed, the transformation taking hold of the both of them. Harry felt as if he was being flayed alive, his muscles tearing and convulsing, his skin aflame. Tears escaped him at the agony that tore through him, feeling the lick of flame against his flesh as fur sprouted over his body, the heat of his Alpha's body doing nothing to ease the pain but providing some of the comfort that he so desperately needed.

                And then it was over. Harry whimpered, his body still in agony. He could barely move at all without a jolt of fire surging through him so he lay still and unmoving, fearful that he would only hurt himself more if he tried to stand.

                The Alpha still lay beside him, his warm, protective presence a comfort. Harry knew the others would not come near him while Fenrir lay beside him. He found that even if he could, he wouldn't have wanted to move.

                Fenrir remained curled around his mate knowing that something was wrong and hating that there was nothing whatsoever that he could do about it. He surveyed the others to ensure the rest of his pack had made it through the transformation without difficulty. They all seemed to be fine, their wolves bounding around happily, enjoying their alternative forms, all of them awaiting instruction from him. Whatever was wrong it was just Harry that it affected, which made the Alpha realise that his mate was still keeping secrets and now they were starting to physically hurt him.

                The Alpha watched in amusement as the dark brown wolf he knew to be Clayton made an obvious advance toward Romy who was the smallest in the pack, her wolf's fur a very light brown, which was almost grey in colour, showing his interest in her. An action that was blocked by the large rustic brown, almost red furred wolf that was Jenson who snarled at Clay, protecting his young pup from the romantic advances.

It pained him to know that he would have to go for a second full moon without joining his pack in the hunt but Fenrir could see that his mate was in clear distress, unable to move without whimpering in pain. The agony that had taken control of his body dulled now but still present nevertheless. Once again Harry had settled himself down, closing his eyes and seemingly dozing off into sleep.

                The dark brown Beta wolf padded softly forward, tilting his head to the side and surveying the jet black wolf, that was Harry, with intelligent silver eyes. Damon just as concerned as Fenrir, at the agonizing scream that had ripped through the clearing as Harry had changed. The Alpha wolf met his Beta's gaze and signalled for him to lead the others off on the hunt. Once again he would remain with his little mate who whined softly in protest as Fenrir shifted beside him.

                With every movement made, Harry's body jolted slightly sending tremors of pain through him. He just wanted it to end. The listened as he heard the distinct sound of the rest of the pack as they followed Damon off into the forest to hunt. Harry was glad of the silence and gave another soft whine of contentment as Fenrir started to lick about his ears, sniffing at him to see if he could scent out what was wrong.

                FGHP

                The pack returned a few hours later, just as they had done on the previous full moon; this time it was a stag that was being dragged back to the clearing by Jenson to be presented to, who they all knew to be, their Alpha pair. Each one of the pack was concerned about Harry and the pain he was in, and how much he suffered. Depositing the meal in front of Fenrir, who gave each of them his approval, before they loped back off into the forest to catch their own meal.

Fenrir was desperate to get Harry to eat something, however the younger wolf just wasn’t interested. No matter how many times the Alpha nudged, nibbled and butted against his little mate nothing seemed to stir him. If it wasn’t for the obvious signs of him breathing Fenrir would have worried that Harry hadn’t survived the transformation.

                It took several hours for Harry to move at all, waking from his slumber, his sparkling emerald eyes finding Fenrir before he nuzzled into him lovingly. The Alpha had refrained from eating the stag, not feeling right filling his growling belly as his mate was in clear distress and going hungry. Now the two of them, Harry with some help and encouragement, made their way to the fallen animal and began to eat.

After eating their fill, Harry collapsed back onto the soft grass and permitted to allow his Alpha to clean his muzzle of blood, the rough swipes of Fenrir’s tongue drawing a soft growl of contentment from the younger wolf. Only once his little mate was clean, fed and once again dozing, did Fenrir lay down beside him, resting his head protectively on Harry’s shoulder blades. The rest of the pack settling around them, exhausted from their hunt, gradually all drifting off to sleep.

                FGHP

                Blinking open his eyes Harry groaned, every inch of him ached terribly; the full moon, the night before, had not been a pleasant one. However, he knew he had no one to blame but himself; after all, his Dad had warned him time and time again the importance of taking the right dosage of the enhanced Wolfsbane potion. He had been drinking only three quarters of the right dosage in an attempt to make it last that little bit longer. At least he hadn’t hurt anyone, which was something. He would have happily suffered that agony for a single night rather than live with the guilt of hurting another person for the rest of his life.

Fenrir would no doubt have more questions for him this morning though. Thinking of the large Alpha, Harry could feel him wrapped around his smaller frame, the Alpha’s obvious and ‘eep’ worthy erection pressing into the small of Harry’s back as he slept. The younger wolf remembered his Alpha’s tender actions the night before, how he had taken care of him, not just as another pack member but something more.

                The thought of this didn’t terrify Harry nearly as much as he thought it ought to. Even though he had the urge to break himself free from the group, to cover his nudity and to bathe, the urge was not to run, nor to get as far away as possible. Harry found that was actually glad of the warmth that Fenrir provided him with as it was a fairly chilly morning. He would have happily stayed in the Alpha’s embrace if it hadn’t been for the desperate need to take a piss.

                Wiggling out of the warm embrace, Harry gathered up his clothes from where had dropped them the night before, pulling on his jeans before rushing off to the treeline to relieve himself. He really wanted a wash and to scrub the thin coating of grim from his body, though clearly he hadn’t woken as early as the morning after the last full moon as the rest of the pack was already beginning to stir.

                Slipping off into the trees as the others began to sit up and stretch out their limbs, Harry made his way to the deeper and faster flowing of the two streams where the pack bathed. It wasn’t long before he was joined Fenrir who looked more than a little grumpy this morning.

                “One of these days I’m actually going to wake up and you’re still going to be in my arms,” the Alpha growled lowly as he took in his mate who was most of the way submerged in the fresh water stream, which had been magically heated and deepened by the little wizard to allow for a comfortable bath.

“My Alpha,” another voice called before Harry could say anything in response. Damon hurried over to them, a worried look on his face. “Last night, while we were hunting we smelt other werewolves,” he said seriously. “They haven’t yet come into our territory but there are at least four strays out there that we could smell.”

Fenrir had tensed at the mention of other wolves and nodded his understanding to his Beta. “Take Jenson and Micha with you to scout the boundaries,” he ordered and Damon nodded, hurrying off to do as he was told. Fenrir then turned to Harry. “Clearing now, little one, until we know that it is safe.”

Harry nodded, waiting for the Alpha to leave so that he could put his clothes back on, but apparently Fenrir had no intention of even looking the other way. With a sigh Harry realised he was left with no choice but to climb out of the water and dress quickly under the Alpha's annoyingly smug and watchful gaze, feeling hugely self-conscious. Once he had dried and clothed himself, the two of them began heading back to the clearing together.

Harry wasn’t sure what it meant to have other werewolves roaming around close to their territory but judging by Fenrir’s reaction and his unwillingness to leave Harry alone, even to finish bathing unsupervised, it wasn’t likely to mean anything good.

                FGHP

                Tom was furious with the ignorance of the majority of the wizarding world; they didn't need to die, he didn't want to spill true magical blood but they seemed determined to make things difficult. He stalked through the halls of Malfoy Manor; it had been a long day of bringing people into line and his rage was at boiling point. He would find one of his loyal subjects to appease him, but it was doing nothing for his mood that he had to go looking at all; the truly obedient would have known when to fall to his feet.

                “My lord,” Bellatrix simpered, bowing deeply as he rounded the corner, her eyes never leaving his.

                She would do, he thought. He reached a hand out and easily threaded his long and elegant fingers through her wild and uncontrollable black hair; at least it gave him a good grip, he appreciated that. A startled yelp left her lips as he yanked on the dark locks, pulling her to her knees. He sneered her pathetic-ness, relishing the beautiful sight of her submission before him; it was like remembering to breathe as the power of it flowed through him.

                He knew she loved him, it was how it should be. He would take what he needed from her and she would be grateful for it, she would love him for it. He pulled on hair again, it was so pleasingly childish and he knew it, but that didn’t make the little startled and pained noises she made any less pleasing. His lips pulled back into an imitation of a smile, his tongue pressing forward against his teeth as though resisting tasting the deliciousness of the moment.

                It would have been curious to see how long he could have maintained her discomfort before she would speak of it; but given the things he had done to her in the past, he suspected it would be indefinitely and he already grew bored.

                Slowly, very slowly he leaned down and place his lips against her ear, “Playtime,” he hissed, suddenly releasing his grip. He let out a cackling laugh as she fell helplessly to the floor, having been unable to catch herself in time. “Come,” he ordered as he strode past her; she would follow, he had no doubt in his mind about that. She wanted this as much as he did, he could see it in her eyes every time he looked at her. Who was he to deny such a pathetic creature?

                They would use the room he had put aside for such occasions. He would not have her polluting his own space; he might sometimes appreciate the sight of blood, but it really would do nothing for the decor. Besides he doubted she would be able to move by the time he would be done with her and he certainly didn’t want the hassle of dealing with her in such a state.

                The room, oh how he loved this room; he took a deep breath as rolled his neck as though limbering up for what was to come. He opened his eyes and put on his true charming smile; it had fooled so many in his years and as he looked around at the mirrors that lined all the walls, he could see the handsome teenager that they had all believed him to be. Ah, his youth and perfection, he knew he was someone the wizarding world would look up to and the vermin of the mudbloods, squibs and muggles would fear.

                “My Lord,” Bellatrix’s voice was full of longing as she stood in the doorway; her eyes too appreciating how the mirrors displayed him from every angle. There was no denying that she loved this man, would do anything for him, suffer anything for him.

                She couldn’t have him though, no-one would ever have him; they were his, all his for the taking and he would take his fill but he would never give himself to anyone in return. His eyes shifted to meet the reflection of hers in the mirror in front of them and he saw the second she caved to her desires and stepped towards him. He was quicker though; spelling the door shut and turning to face her. The look in his eyes froze her for a moment; she knew not to touch, that she had no control; it was not the first time they had danced this dance.

                He remembered the first time he had brought her here and her suggestion that they silence the room; he had laughed at her then and spelled the house so that no-one would miss her every scream. He would not pretend to be anything other than the master he was and he would have his servants know that she was nothing more than an occasionally satisfying amusement to him.

                Bellatrix was barely breathing as she watched him step closer to her, in painfully slow increments. Suddenly he was upon her, his hand in her hair again, but near the base of her skull; spinning her around and pressing her against the door, he ran his wand the length of her spine. His wordless spell slitting her robes from tailbone to nape.

                “Whore,” he hissed, and even though she was unable to understand parseltongue, the sound of it alone sent a tremor through her body hard enough that the fabric of her torn clothing slipped from one shoulder.

                It was almost a tender moment, despite the word; until, in one swift motion, he pushed himself away from her, summoned a whip and cracked it down hard against her exposed back; drawing out a genuine exclamation of pain. This was no toy he held in his hand and already the little tendrils of blood trickled over her skin. She wasn’t even restrained and yet she remained where she was, the front of her body flush with the door; her hands clenched but her arms hanging placidly at her sides.

She bit down hard on her lip so that she didn't scream or cry out; her breathing the only sign of her pain or distress. A second blow came down upon the flesh of her back and she whimpered, tears welling up in her eyes as she accepted the pain. Angry red welts burning harshly upon the skin of her back. A third crack of the whip had her knees shaking and with the fourth she finally cried out in anguish.

The sound seemed to appease Tom, he enjoyed how long it took to make her react. She always held out the longest of all his followers. It was why she had swiftly become his favourite plaything. He brought down the whip with a fifth sickening but highly satisfyingly crack. This time her reaction was to scream, the pain too much to bear.

Stepping forward he ran a finger through the crimson marks that crisscrossed on the flesh canvas. “Come now, Bella" Voldemort said, his breath brushing over her ear as he leaned in close, “we have barely begun.”

She knew his words were the truth, Tom would likely never tire of the torture he could inflict upon her willing body. Her love for him kept her pliant as he took what he needed and left her with nothing. He basked in the reverence she had for him. knowing that she adored him; his viciousness and the ease with which he took power over her; the handsome face helped too, and that thought made him look up and smile at himself in the mirrored walls.

"My lord," Bellatrix simpered hopelessly, more to remind him of her presence than in hope that he might stop; she never wanted him to stop. He continued to caress the injuries he had inflicted upon her, his touch almost loving. It was the pain he loved, the heat that radiated from her skin that he admired. It had nothing to do with the subject.

"Turn" Tom ordered and without hesitation but, full of a heady mix of fear and excitement, she did as she was told. Voldemort traced his wand down her cheek, sneering in disgust at the witch. He continued down over her jaw and pressed the tip of his wand into the underside of her chin just to watch the moment of terror flash in her eyes. He leaned in close and for a moment she thought he would kiss her neck but instead he felt her rapid pulse with his tongue before suddenly biting at her sharply with his teeth. It hurt and tears ran down her cheeks as she let herself feel it.

His wand was already trailing down the front of her clothing, splitting it as he had done with the back and Bellatrix did nothing to stop it falling away. He liked her this way, bared in front of him, not for her body but for how vulnerable it made her, for the unfettered access it gave him.

The whip was still in his other hand and he pressed the end of the grip into the top of her thigh, “spread them,” and, despite the use of parseltongue, she recognised the sounds and complied. She had failed to once and he had kept them spread for her for days, until he was sure she would never fail to again.

With one swift motion he buried the long and solid handle of the whip deep inside her, the leather tails hanging between her legs. Her eyes pinched shut at the pain and suddenness of it; her knees felt shaky and her breathing unsteady, it took all her will to force herself to push her eyelids back up and meet his eyes.

“Don’t drop it,” he warned her, he had no need for or-else’s; Bellatrix knew she would suffer for disobedience, the how was irrelevant.

He turned and took in the room; so many beautiful toys to play with that he didn’t know where to start. What did he want first, bruises or blood? Either way he would fill the air with her screams; he was almost hard at the thought of it. Blood always satisfied him most, bruising her fair skin was simply foreplay leading up to the main event.

He didn't even need to instruct her vocally this time. She walked, painfully slowly so as not to drop the whip, towards the bed, for lack of a better word. Tom watched the agony on her face as she moved, taking great pleasure in it.

The bed in question was not the traditional kind one would expect with mattress and pillows. This was something akin to what would be found in a cell in Azkaban and it could be raised up to waist height, enough that he could bend her over it if he so desired to take her in such a way. Made of wrought iron, flat bars crisscrossed together to form the frame. There was no doubt that the contraption was designed not for comfort but for agony instead. Bellatrix knelt on the floor at the end of the bed, heels together, knees apart as she leaned over the metal structure, hair falling forward and covering her face. Just how he liked it.

                It displayed the recent markings he had painted on her back so beautifully as her spine curved towards him, begging for more, the whip still dangling from between her legs and splaying onto the floor. A simple flick of his wand had manacles around her wrists, pulling her arms further up either side of the bed; her knees barely able to reach the floor leaving her completely unable to move unless she would be foolish enough to attempt to get to her feet.

                “You like this, don’t you, Bella?” he cooed teasingly, nudging the whip deeper inside her with the toe of his boot.

                “Yes, my Lord,” she said breathily, “I am yours to do with as you please.”

                “You think I need you to tell me that!?” he snapped angrily, yanking her head up by her hair to meet his eyes, the manacles on her wrists pulling and digging in against her wrists.

                “Sorry, my Lord,” she said quickly, trying to blink away the tears from her watering eyes.

                “No more words,” he ordered pushing her head back against the bed where a strap looped around her neck and the slats of the bed, holding her head in place making her whimper, “let me know when it hurts.”

                She tried to nod, but it was difficult and unnecessary; he was not waiting for her consent. He didn’t care for it and knew she would have given it anyway, no matter what it was for. She cried out at the sharp scratching sensation on the back of her right shoulder, quickly followed by rivulets of warmth that she knew to be her blood. A matching sensation mirrored it on her left shoulder a few seconds later.

                “Your body bleeds so obediently,” he told her, leaning down and gathering the droplets on his tongue, only to spit them back at her. Smiling his blood tinted lips at the spattering of red droplets on her arms and in her hair. So pretty. It made his whole body throb with desire to see more.

                “I know what you want,” he teased, pressing his hard groin into the top of her back. Bellatrix bit her lip as her body spasmed with her desire and clenched around the end of the whip that was inside her. “And you will get it, but not until you are beyond any capability of asking for it.”

                Tom chose a long handled wooden paddle and began beating her body, relishing the noises that fell from her lips as he thought about how he had never wanted some pretty little thing to keep, he had never wanted a wife, or anyone in his bed; he had no use for an heir like mortal men, he would carry on his own legacy for an eternity.

                He switched back to the whip, removing it from Bellatrix’s body with a harsh pull that had her screaming from the force of it.

                It was the power, that was what made him feel alive and he cared very little for the body that surrendered, it was the submission that was important. He would have been just as hard as he was at that moment, watching any of the Malfoy’s bend to his will, but their egos and arrogance would always stand in the way of true obedience; though Tom could admit that they had their uses. Besides if they continued to follow orders and provide pure-blooded children, loyal to the cause, they could be forgiven their imperfections.

                He pushed the handle of the whip roughly back into the convenient hole and went back to using the small blade, tracing lines over the newly forming bruises.

                It was the newest Malfoy child that had filled his head with ridiculous thoughts of heirs and he had begun to wonder if he might have use for one after all. Not to replace him, of course; he would never let himself fall to the weakness that was death; he would soon find a way to preserve his youth and beauty too. He glanced at the mirror relishing the pretty patterns that now covered Bellatrix’s back. Tom wanted an heir who he could control, someone who would appreciate the perfection that would be his empire.

                Tom picked up the wooden paddle again and went to work on the backs of her thighs, as Bellatrix whimpered and yelped.

                His empire would not run itself after all and he didn’t intend on doing all of the work himself. An heir that he could bend to his will from the moment it was born, now that was something that sparked interest in his mind. He could hand the reins over to his pure-blood son and he could just pull all of the strings, enjoying his hold on the world. He would not, however, be burdened with some needy brat and so it was an idea he had shelved for now.

                He raised the bed up higher, leaving Bellatrix almost hanging from it as she could barely stand, what with all the injuries to her back and legs and the new height of the bed.

                “Now the real fun begins,” he whispered into her ear and her body shuddered with a mix of anticipation and terror at what was coming.

                FGHP

                It had been six days since the full moon and Harry still ached with remembered pain, there was only two more nights until Halloween, not his favourite time of year as it was the anniversary of his mother’s death. It was the time of year where his nightmares would come and he would see flashes of green light, another child and searing pain. They were the whole reason that his Dad had taught him Occlumency and this had ensured that for the rest of the year he remained unbothered by them. The nightmares only returning on Halloween.

                Harry had made the decision fairly quickly, after his last transformation into his wolf form, that he really needed his potion, no matter what it took for him to get the ingredients to brew more. After the pain he experienced during the last full moon, both during the transformation and while he was in wolf form, he was sure that he wouldn’t be able to cope with such agony again. He had now officially run out of the stock of his father's adapted wolfsbane potion that he had taken from his home in Ingleton and was desperate to get more.

                He would need to go to a primarily wizarding village or location to be able to find the ingredients he needed for the advanced form of the Wolfsbane potion. Aconite would be the hardest to find, of course, seeing as it was regulated by the Ministry of Magic due to its poisonous properties but Harry was nothing if not determined. All he had to do was remember the pain he had felt and he knew that he had to manage to get hold of some somehow.

                The problem was the only wizarding location that he knew about where he would be able to get everything he needed was Diagon Alley. His Dad had never told him about any others and he knew Diagon Alley was the most popular and well known, he couldn’t exactly go there if Aurors were still looking for him. He found that he actually wanted to make it back to the pack this time; he had no intention of running away, not like before, he just needed to go on a little expedition.

                He would have to go alone too. He couldn’t exactly ask permission this time, no matter how much he wanted to stay on Fenrir’s good side; the side that the Alpha wolf seemed to reserve just for him, though Harry had no idea why. He wouldn’t drag Clay into this either, not when the two of them had only just about managed to get their friendship back on track. Besides either way he would have to explain why he was wanting to go and that was something that he couldn’t do. Of course Clay already halfway knew about the potion but not the exact details, and Harry didn’t want him to know either.

                Clay and Harry were once again inseparable, it was heart-warming to see but also rather worrying, though only Damon seemed to be concerned. He was the only one who had seen the antics of the two of them when they were together, he knew that the pack should be very concerned with the two of them on speaking terms again. Throwing Micha into the mix could only add to the devastation that would likely be caused. However the Beta wolf was simply glad to see that Harry, after re-igniting his friendship with Clay, was now coming into pack life more. Even Fenrir watched on with a rare smile as his mate laughed and joked with the other members of the pack.

                The two young teenagers had decided to go on an exploratory walk of the territory. They were too young to be sent on jobs like scouting the boundaries of the territory as they were still counted as pups within the pack until they turned sixteen, and even then they had to prove themselves at hunting in wolf form before they became fully fledged members and could shake themselves of the title of pup. They wisely stayed in sight of the clearing, knowing that neither Fenrir nor Damon would like it if they wandered off too far.

                “Where do you think we’ll go to get the things we need for Hogwarts? The list was fairly extensive,” Harry asked casually as they walked. He wanted to at least be subtle about gathering his information.

                “Diagon Alley probably, easier,” Clayton said with a shrug. “I’m hoping I can pick up a new skateboard too, I left my old one in our old house.”

                “Then we’ll make sure we get one, even if we have to sneak off to get it,” Harry declared with a cheeky smile which Clayton returned. “Are there any wizarding towns closer than London?” he asked curiously and his best friend gave him a sly look.

                “Course there are, there are loads of them, depends what you’re after though,”

“It’s complicated,” Harry admitted and Clay gave him a look.

“Is this about that potion?” he asked giving Harry a pointed look, he wasn’t stupid, far from it, and he knew that his friend was dancing around the real issue.

“Would you still help me if it were?” Harry asked dubiously, giving Clayton a pleading look.

“If you want potion ingredients and won’t go to Diagon Alley then you’re best bet is Hogsmeade,” Clay said with a sigh.

“You’re not going to tell Fenrir or Damon, are you?” Harry asked desperately.

“I’ll do you a deal; if you can manage to sneak off and get back here without them noticing then I won’t say a word but if they notice that you’re gone then I’ll have to tell them, okay?” Harry nodded, he could agree to those terms. Besides, if he didn’t make it back or something went wrong he knew that someone had known where he was going and would no doubt send out a search party looking for him. It was a comforting thought.

“Thanks,” Harry said with a smile, appreciating having Clay back as his friend all the more.

“No problem,” he said with his trademark cheeky smirk, “what are friends for and besides we’ve done crazier shit than this.”

“Yeah,” Harry said grinning with the remembered good times he had shared with his childhood friend, “Speaking of which …”

“You thinking of having some fun?” Clay asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“It’s long overdue, we can’t let Micha have the monopoly on mischief making,” Harry said returning the grin, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Perhaps he needs a taste of his own medicine,” Clay suggested, motioning over to where Micha was having an afternoon doze in front of the fire. The two teenagers could hear his soft snores and knew that they had to take their opportunity when it was so easily presented. They shared a look, withdrawing their wands and at nodding each other.

Fenrir was watching in amusement as his little mate and Clayton crept suspiciously out of the forest where they had been walking. He had been keeping a close eye on them, of course, and was feeling a little wary of the fact that they were stifling giggles.

He continued to watch as they crept up to a slumbering Micha, their wands drawn, the two of them swiftly and silently began to give the sleeping werewolf something of a makeover. They turned his sandy blonde hair a shocking shade of electric pink, Harry painting his fingernails a bright shade of blue. Clayton adding copious amounts of blusher to his cheeks and a thick coating of red lipstick to his lips.

The two teenagers were struggling to hold back their laughter as they added the finishing touches, putting dark purple eyeshadow on him that seemed to glitter. Through it all Micha slept on, both Harry and Clayton using their wands with precise care and attention so that they didn’t wake the older wolf before they were finished. Seeing the two of them joking and having fun brought a smile to the Alpha’s lips, not having the inclination to stop them, not after all the teasing Micha had done in regards to Jenson, who would no doubt get a kick from this.

Once they were finished Harry and Clayton ran for cover, hiding in the undergrowth close by so that they could have a good view. However Micha didn’t seem receptive to the plan and after five minutes of waiting they grew a little bored when he didn’t wake up naturally so the older of the two teens began to scrabble around in the dirt. Finding a handful of small stones Clayton began flicking them toward the sleeping werewolf with remarkable aim thanks to the use of his spruce wand.

Harry had to cover his mouth with his hands to keep from laughing as each tiny stone hit the slumbering Micha one at a time until he finally began to rouse from his nap. It was rather perfect timing really as Jenson and Lukas wandered into the clearing both having just come home from work. They were chatting animatedly amongst themselves until they saw Micha by the fire, stretching and yawning.

Both of them immediately began laughing, Micha looking at them in confusion as the two of the usually serious werewolves struggled to remain standing they were laughing so hard. They were clutching their sides and only seemed to remain standing by clutching on to each other.

“What?” Micha asked in confusion, but that just made Jenson laugh harder as Lukas wiped tears of joy from his own face. “Seriously, what?” Micha asked, now turning to the Alpha.

Fenrir was genuinely impressed by the job the two teens had done, but even with Micha’s confusion was he wasn’t going to be the one to ruin his little mate’s fun, not when it was all in harmless jest and so he simply shrugged in response.

“Will someone tell me what is so amusing,” Micha requested again, putting his hands on the ground to push himself to his feet. That was when he noticed. He was absolutely certain his nails had not been that disturbing shade of blue when he had fallen asleep. “CLAYTON!”

That was apparently too much for Harry who burst into sudden fit of laughter, clutching as his stomach and stumbled back into the clearing.

“Harry….?” Micha asked in confusion.

“Harry did that to him?” Jenson asked Fenrir in surprise, the Alpha gave a single nod, highly amused “Oh that is bloody brilliant.”

“Way to give the game away early, Harry,” Clay said in a mock upset tone. “He can’t take all the credit though,”

“Yeah, the hair was Clay’s idea,” Harry said smirking at his friend.

“Hair?” Micha said in alarm reaching up to feel the top of his head.

“Bright pink is not really your colour,” Lukas said seriously.

“Pink? This was your doing,” Micha said, jumping up and chasing after Clayton, who had the good sense to make a run for it, Harry unable to stop laughing at them both. “I’ll show you pink.” With a swish of his wand and a muttered incantation he turned Clay’s entire outfit a pink bright enough to rival that of his hair.

Harry was unable to stay standing, he was laughing so hard, “he sure... showed you..., Clay,” he managed to stutter out in amusement between fits of laughter.

Clayton and Micha turned to face him with matching grins that wiped the one from Harry’s face. He jumped back to his feet and ran to hide behind Fenrir, just in time for the colour changing spell to catch the Alpha rather than him.

“Uh oh,” Clay and Micha chorused. Now they were really done for. Fenrir’s favourite brown leather jacket, the one he’d owned and worn every day for the past fifteen years was now no longer brown but rather a shocking shade of pink. The Alpha didn’t look entirely impressed but Harry on the other hand had started up his giggling once more, unable to control it, clutching at his aching side and leaning on Fenrir for support. Most of the Pack were highly aware that it was probably only Harry’s good mood and status as Fenrir's mate that had spared the spell casters from the Alpha’s wrath.

Fenrir shrugged off his coat and threw it towards Clayton and Micha, “I don’t care what it takes, you’ll turn it back,” he growled, before turning to Harry and scooping him up in his arms. “That was very naughty, little one,” Fenrir said but he couldn’t keep the amusement from his tone and Harry smiled up at him innocently. “Damon told me the two of you were trouble when together, though I didn’t know if to believe him, until now.”

“Are we worse than Micha?” he asked, almost hopefully.

“Yes, little one, I think you might be,” Fenrir said with amused exasperation, as Harry grinned up at him proudly. The Alpha placed his little mate back on his feet, and swotted his bum as Harry headed off to help Clay and Micha rescue the precious coat.

Harry let out a small growl of complaint, definitely not wanting the Alpha to realise his surprise at having been aroused a little by the gesture, instead he tried to focus on the fact that at least the pack seemed more relaxed around him now, and in a good mood, and how that would definitely make taking a little trip to Hogsmeade a lot easier to pull off. Assuming the Alpha didn't skin them all alive first for ruining his jacket and, with that thought, the teen picked up his pace as he ran over to Micha and Clay.
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Fragmented Soul