Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe with all its characters, places, creatures, etc. belong to J.. By using them in this story, I mean no offence to her or to anyone else. I make no money with this story.

Author's Note: Hello, everyone! This is the long awaited and frequently requested sequel to Basic Needs, which might account for the unoriginal title. If you haven't read that one yet, this story and especially the beginning probably won't make a lot of sense, so I suggest that you do. If you have already read the first story, thank you and you may proceed. There will be some changes, however, and I hope you don't mind them too much. For example, while Basic Needs only showed you Fenrir's point of view, this story will shift perspective from time to time to give you an insight into Harry's thoughts and feelings. There's also a change concerning the chapter headings, but I'm sure you'll figure that one out on your own. Plus, and I hope you'll like that, this story will be a lot longer. Other than that, I can only say that I'm awfully fond of this story and that I hope you'll enjoy it as well.

Warnings: Slash, mentions of rape and child abuse, some violence, bad language, OOCness and quite a few graphic descriptions of sexual situations, mpreg (I have a feeling I forgot something...)

Beta: No, actually, and I'm not sure if I want one, either. But feel free to point out any mistakes or to tell me if it gets too bad.

And now, on with the story!

1. PREDICTABILITY

So much for their plan. Nothing had worked out as planned. Absolutely nothing. Less than nothing if you considered how their dream of an easy escape and a happy life with Fenrir's pack had backfired. Harry had not returned the next night, nor the night after, nor, in fact, for more than a week. Fenrir had been irritated, furious and worried to the bone. It wasn't like Harry. Harry wouldn't avoid him; Harry wouldn't break his word; Harry wouldn't chicken out. Harry hadn't. Those wizards had prevented him from coming with their incessant need for control, their fixation on having their way that they totally blocked out how illogical torturing Harry was. But they did, sometimes until deep into the night, into the next morning, through the next day and into the next night. They took turns; Harry had to hold out alone. Bastards!

And then the full moon had come. Fenrir had all but forgotten about it in his worry for his little white wolf. His own problems were meaningless faced with the hard reality of what Harry was going through. Was he being tortured right now? With curses? With weapons? With words? Or were the guards and Ministry officials taking a break, drinking a coffee, commenting on the weather, asking about wives and kids, while Harry lay bleeding on the cold stone floor, writhing in pain?

His transformation had taken him by surprise, and for one foolish moment he had resisted. Being a wolf seemed like an easy escape from his troublesome worries, and he didn't want it if he couldn't share it with Harry. It had been futile. His wolf had taken over despite his protests, growling and snarling in annoyance, before jogging along the walls, looking for a way out - looking for Harry. But Harry couldn't come. Harry was clinging to his life, Harry was dying. The smell of pain and blood had lain heavy in the air, heavier than usual, as it had for days now. Harry would give in soon or he would die. The werewolf had howled angrily.

A weak yip had answered him. Fenrir's ears had perked. Another yip, a whimper, the scrapping of claws on stone. Slowly, painfully, a small white wolf had crawled into his cell, dragging one leg behind. The white fur had been coated with blood, the eyes dull with pain and fatigue, and the pink tongue had lolled out of his mouth as he had gasped for breath.

Fenrir had gently nudged his cub, feeling every protective instinct rushing to the forefront as Harry didn't react.No, Harry couldn't die now! Harry had come to him, and bloody hell, he would not let him die! So he had carefully taken Harry by the scruff of his neck and carried him over to the straw. He had licked his wounds, tugged the blanket over him and had lain close to protect the cub's shivering body from the biting cold that accompanied winters in Azkaban. Harry had drifted in and out of consciousness, and when Fenrir had thought he was doing better, he had tried to convince Harry to leave the cell, change back into human form and heal himself, but whether it was that Harry was too weak or too stubborn, Harry merely growled tiredly at him and had stayed always close to him, always in his cell. And he had got weaker and weaker.

The full moon had sent one last ray of pale, silver light into Fenrir's cell, before it had released him from his spell. His body had convulsed and shivered and changed back into human, and the beast had receded completely from his mind.

The white little wolf with the black marking around ears and eyes, had whimpered tiredly as Fenrir tenderly caressed his soft coat, begging him with gentle words to change back as well. Harry's body had shuddered before he painfully shifted forms, his white fur giving way to sickly pale skin and painful wounds. Fenrir had had to swallow hard as he had seen Harry so weak and felt the heat that radiated off of him. So much for their plan. It didn't look like they would escape after all.

Harry had lost too much blood and had developed a fever. His wounds were deep and numerous; some had become infected, others had been cursed to prevent healing; Harry's right leg looked to be broken. Fenrir tore the blankets into stripes and tried to bandage the most serious wounds and then spread his own overall over the tiny body. He lay down next to Harry, trying to provide him with enough warmth to stave off his fever. Harry whimpered, but didn't regain consciousness for a long time.

"Fen?" Harry groaned softly. "Sorry, I didn't come to open the door."

"Shh, my little one, who cares? You'll concentrate on getting better. We'll escape later. Just get better." He sounded desperate, he knew, but seeing Harry like this was getting to him.

"I could try, if you carried me over to the door. So you can escape, find your pack and tell Remus that I love him," Harry whispered, shifting as if to sit up, but then hissed in pain.

"You stupid, stupid thing!" Fenrir had to resist the urge to shake some sense into the other prisoner. "If you have any magic left to spare, you'll use every last bit of it to heal yourself. I don't care about the door. I care about you not dying on me. And I won't play messenger boy, you can tell Lupin everything you want to tell him yourself when you see him. Don't fucking talk as if you're dying."

"I am dying-"

"No, you're not! You're not in the best of shapes, I admit that, but you're not dying!" Fenrir was shouting now and he suspected that this wasn't helping Harry, but he couldn't stop himself. "I won't allow it."

"Death doesn't need your permission." Harry coughed, a gurgling sound, as if his lungs were full of water - or blood. "I'm okay with it, Fen... I've no place in... this new world, anyway. I... I'm... glad... I got... to... know..."

Harry's sentence ended in a wheeze.

"You'll always have a place with me, always, Harry," Fenrir murmured, thinking that Harry had lost consciousness again and all the more surprised when he heard Harry's weak voice again.

"He's coming. Voldemort's coming, Fen. The new world has beg..."

Fenrir pressed a kiss to Harry's sweaty brow, but the younger man had passed out for good this time.

A loud, crashing noise rend the air, waking the other prisoners, who started clamouring and rummaging in their cells, and fast foot falls and loud voices came closer to them.

"Open the cells, free the prisoners, kill the guards," a magically enhanced voice echoed through the halls as black-robed figures moved swiftly through them.

When his own cell door slid open almost smoothly, Fenrir withdrew deeper into the shadows, hiding Harry between his body and the wall. People walked past his cell, some with measured steps and others, the prisoners, hurriedly and eagerly.

"My Lord," someone called, sounding nervous. "Potter isn't in his cell. It looks like he was tortured, though."

"I know that, idiot," a sibilant voice snapped in response. "Go find him. You are not leaving before you can tell me where he is."

"Yes, my Lord," the Death Eater replied dutifully. "I'll bring him here."

"No, idiot. You are not to touch the boy, just tell me where he is," Voldemort hissed. "And where are those stupid werewolves, anyway?"

"My Lord," another Death Eater spoke up. "You gave them the task to make sure no one gets away from here without your permission."

"Get me one here. Lupin, preferably. Let him find his godson," Voldemort ordered, and the second Death Eater scurried away as well.

Fenrir listened closely for Voldemort's step, trying to determine if he could get past him somehow, but instead of dying away his steps seemed to get closer. Harry whimpered, inaudible to all but werewolf ears.

"He can feel me," Harry's voice sounded faint, as if he was already far away, in another world, no longer belonging to the world of the living. "Don't die for me. I made my peace."

The silver-haired man wordlessly tucked the coveralls more tightly around Harry's shivering form, before getting up fluidly. He hid in the shadows as Voldemort came steadily closer, finally coming to a stop in front of their cell. He turned his ghostly white face towards the small human bundle on the floor. Fenrir, still in the shadows, could see his red eyes glimmering dangerously and maliciously in the dim light of the approaching day. He prepared to attack, crouching down to jump - a beam of light shot towards him, immobilising him.

"So, so, Harry Potter, have you found yourself a little bodyguard? So afraid of me?" He glided towards Harry, vanishing the blanket that covered him. "Do you have my answer?"

"I..." Harry was interrupted by violent coughs that wracked his tiny body and sprinkled his hand with drops of blood. "Tired."

"You are hurt," Voldemort sounded truly surprised, and his hands were almost gentle, though not quite, as he made Harry uncurl so that he could see where the problem was.

"I..." Harry tried to speak again, but the Dark Lord shushed him, while bandaging Harry's wounds by magic. "Don't speak now, Potter. I can wait for my answer a bit longer. You are no use to me dead."

"No use to you at all," Harry whispered defiantly. "I'm sick of fighting. I'll be no one's weapon anymore."

"Then you won't fight," Voldemort murmured with finality. "Now shut up. I need to concentrate. I haven't healed anyone recently."

Fenrir growled warningly, briefly drawing the attention of the Dark Lord. "If you hurt him-"

"Being silent goes for you, too, wolf," Voldemort hissed, sending him a red-eyed glare, before turning back to Harry, who had fallen unconscious again.

He swished his wand before holding it steadily over Harry's stomach. A soft golden glow emitted from it. Finally, it stopped and Voldemort pocketed his wand, making to scoop Harry up.

"Don't you dare touch him," Fenrir growled, earning himself another annoyed glare.

"And how do you suppose I get him out of here without doing so? He needs to see a Healer. I have no time for your sentimentality."

"I'll take him," Fenrir stated, struggling against the Dark Lord's magic. "You can't leave me here anyway. My pack is waiting for me."

"Stupid pack loyalty," Voldemort sounded irritated, but dismissively waved his wand, freeing the werewolf, who immediately pushed up from the floor and hastened to Harry's side, tenderly gathering him in his arms.

"Well, then get going. I don't have all day," Voldemort bid him go first, motioning with wand. The werewolf was much too worried about his hurt cub to start another argument.

ö_ö_ö

Harry groaned softly, rolling around and wincing as pain shot through his stomach and his right leg.

"Don't move yet, cub," a soft voice admonished him. "Or you'll aggravate your injuries."

"Remus!" Harry exclaimed, sitting up despite the warning and ignoring the consequent pain. "Remus!"

"I'm here, cub." The werewolf smiled gently at him, pulling the young man into a careful embrace. "And I'm not going anywhere. You should rest, I'll still be here when you wake up, I promise."

"As will I," another, deeper voice added, and Fenrir moved into Harry's line of vision.

"Fen!" Harry smiled at him, grasping his hand when the silver-haired werewolf sat down on his bed. "What happened? Where am I? Are you two okay? Where's your pack? Why am I hurt? Where did your beard disappear to?"

"One question at a time, Harry." Remus smiled his gentle smile again, slowly carding his fingers through Harry's hair. "You're here because you were tortured in Azkaban and almost died. Voldemort stormed Azkaban and freed you and Fenrir. We are now at his Headquarters, as is the rest of the pack. And I think I speak for both of us if I say we're very relieved you finally woke up. You've been unconscious for over a week."

"And as for my beard, I shaved," Fenrir added. "I'd like to kiss you without it getting in the way."

"Fen! This isn't the time for that sort of conversation." Harry glanced nervously at the brown-haired werewolf.

"Don't worry, cub, I already know and I'm happy for you."

"You know what exactly?" Harry asked suspiciously, and Fenrir growled.

"I know you've comforted and protected each other in that place," Remus said appeasingly. "And I'm happy for you. I'm just happy to have you back, cub."

Harry snorted. "That's one way to put it."

"How would you have put it?" Fenrir asked with a touch of anger in his voice.

"We had sex because you were confused, and I didn't think I would live long enough to have sex with anyone else." Harry shrugged, biting his lip when pain raced through his body. "Though, I guess mutual comfort and protection sounds less naughty."

"I'm not confused!"

"Then you're desperate!" Harry interrupted him firmly. "Either way you aren't thinking clearly and making choices you wouldn't make if the circumstances were different."

"The circumstances are different, and I'm still making the same choice," Fenrir retorted, resisting the urge to force Harry into submission; the cub was hurt.

"Maybe they're different for you," Harry retorted. "I'm still being held prisoner. The Ministry or Voldemort, I fail to see the difference anymore."

"We are no prisoners, Harry," Remus spoke up, putting a calming hand on Fenrir's forearm. "We're free to go at any time. The war's over, the Dark has won."

"I doubt that will stop Voldemort from killing me or at least keeping me prisoner for the rest of my miserable life," Harry murmured lowly, as if he wasn't sure he should have said it. "And a world ruled by Voldemort is not something I ever wanted to see."

Remus sighed, pressing a kiss to Harry's forehead before he got up. "Rest, little one. I'll see if I can find Voldemort so that he can tell you yourself that he won't kill you."

"No!" Harry latched onto his hand, a wild, fearful look in his eyes. "Don't leave me! You can't leave me again!"

Remus sank back on his chair, giving Harry's hand a gentle squeeze. "I'm not leaving you, Harry. Don't worry. I love you, cub, I won't leave you, I just thought you would feel better if you got the information first-hand."

"I don't care about that," Harry whispered. "But don't leave me alone."

"You should care, Harry," Fenrir growled deeply. "You should care if you were going to die. I'm going to find Voldemort so you can get over this melodramatic, depressed, life-weary attitude and start living again."

Harry glared at him. "I'm neither of those things, and if my view on things bothers you, you can get lost, I don't mind."

Fenrir took a menacing step towards Harry, his teeth bared aggressively, before he abruptly spun around and left the room.

Remus looked at Harry pensively for a moment. "Fenrir is a honourable man, Harry. He's a good Alpha and I won't deny that it feels good to be part of a pack once more, but you're my cub first, and you'll never be forced to be more to him than the cub of one of his pack members."

Harry blushed, turning his face away.

"But I wouldn't mind at all if you wanted to be more," Remus offered cautiously. "And Fenrir wouldn't mind, either. He has barely left your side while you were unconscious. It wasn't merely meaningless sex for him."

Harry stayed silent, leaning into Remus.

"I doubt it was for you, Harry."

"Can we change the subject now?" Harry demanded. "I'm still recovering. Such life-changing conversations aren't beneficial to my health."

Remus gave him a wry smile and then pressed a loving kiss to Harry's temple. "Of course, cub."

They fell silent for a while, and Harry snuggled into the werewolf, breathing his familiar scent and feeling his familiar warmth.

"I do like him," Harry whispered. "It meant something, to both of us."

"I'm glad to hear that," Remus said. "But why did you just deny it?"

"Because he's smug enough without knowing it." Harry grinned cheekily, and Remus chuckled. "He's so... annoying. He's always ordering me around, telling me what to do and even what to think-"

"Harry, he's an Alpha through and through," Remus told him. "It's in his nature to be dominating and controlling. I fear, not even you will be able to cure him of that attitude."

Unnoticed to Harry, Fenrir had returned with the Dark Lord and stood at the door, listening in on the last part of their conversation. "That depends on what I'd get in return."

Harry twisted around to stare at him, grimacing in pain and pressing a hand to his stomach were the pain radiated from.

"Don't move, cub," Fenrir ordered sternly, glancing at Remus and sending him off the bed with a look, and took his place, pulling Harry into his lap.

"Stop it or I'm going to hex you!" Harry hissed at him, but didn't protest when Fenrir rearranged the blanket around him.

"You aren't to use magic for at least a couple of days yet," Voldemort spoke up, stepping further into the room.

He didn't look all that menacing, Harry thought. His skin was still deathly pale and his eyes still crimson in colour, but he had regained at least some human features, though his nose was still rather unnoticeable. But his head was now framed by wavey black hair that was beginning to grey at his temples, and his mouth had thin lips. His body was tall, but as he had developed some muscles it wasn't skeletal anymore.

"I don't have my wand," Harry replied in a hard voice.

Voldemort smirked. "And yet you use magic. Impressive, for sure, though not very surprising. You are after all the Boy-Who-Lived."

"I don't need your sarcasm," Harry retorted. "And the only reason you would admit that I'm not hopelessly incompetent is that otherwise you would have to admit that you lost to an incompetent child."

"True." Voldemort chuckled. "But that's in the past now. What counts is the end result... You already know that the Light side has lost, correct? Dumbledore is dead, heart attack, if you will believe me and his precious Order will follow him soon enough as will those fools from the Ministry. But as for you... Have you thought about my offer?"

"No, the answer is 'no'," Harry said softly, returning his red-eyed gaze steadily. "I can't support you, and I won'T."

"Pity." Voldemort shrugged. "I hope you will still stay here to rest and recover, and maybe that will give me the time to convince you."

"I won't be convinced," Harry said. "I don't agree with your methods, and I don't agree with your views."

"All the more reason to accept the position as my heir," Voldemort stated. "You could influence me, bring me back on the right way, so to speak."

"I doubt I know the right way myself," Harry replied sadly. "I just know killing people is wrong and that killing people because of who their parents were is even wronger."

"Ah, if that's the case... What am I to do with my prisoners then?" Voldemort asked, curiosity in his voice, and Harry blinked in surprise.

"You could offer them freedom in exchange for loyalty. Make them swear on their magic or otherwise banish them from the country." Harry said after a slight pause. "And if you could be more tolerant and not quite as cruel, I'm sure many of them would agree to support you."

"If you say so." Voldemort didn't seem convinced, but willing enough to give Harry a chance to convince him. "I guess asking them cannot do too much harm. Let us just hope they have more sense than you, Harry Potter. Rest now. I will not kill you nor any of your friends. I will come visit you later."

With that he turned around to leave, and Harry felt more confused than anything. And something tiny, feeble and inexplicable grew in his heart. Maybe it was something like hope, but he couldn't tell.

"Wait! Why are you doing this? It would be so much easier to kill me, wouldn't it? I'm no use to you..."

"You underestimate yourself. I am not offering you this position because I am stupid or conceited enough to think you would feel compelled to agree with me and obey me as my heir. In fact, I am not offering you this because of your power or your influence on the Wizarding world, though that is a nice bonus. I am offering you this because of your influence on me. You are the only one who can still make me feel alive, though in the past you did so in a very unpleasant way by reminding me of my own mortality. You are the only one I even vaguely care about, and now that I have the world, I want you as well. I think it is time to regain some of my humanity - not all of it, mind you."

"Are you kidding me? You don't honestly think, I'd believe such nonsense!" Harry exclaimed, his green eyes narrowing angrily. "Fuck off and tell someone else this little crystory you thought of. Just fuck off!"

Voldemort laughed, bowed mockingly and turned to the door once more. "Spoken like the brash little lion you are. I will send by a Healer, though there seems to be everything in order with your brain, at least."

"We can't all be insane."

"Indeed. Let me know if you need or want anything-"

"Travers. Is he here?" Harry demanded, ignoring the deep growl coming from Fenrir.

"David Travers? He is on a mission, rounding up Light wizards." Voldemort didn't seem surprised by Harry's question. "Shall I call him back?"

"Who's he with?" Harry whispered, dread filling his veins like a deadly poison.

"Antonin Dolohov." Voldemort arched an eyebrow at Harry's pale face. "Do you know him as well?"

"Call them," Harry's voice was hoarse, but if from his injuries or something else was hard to tell. "Now."

Voldemort lips quirked in amusement, but he opened the door, motioning the Death Eater standing guard in front of it to him, and pressed one lone pale finger to his Dark Mark. The Death Eater sucked in his breath in pain, but otherwise showed no reaction, and with an inclination of his head, he once again took post next to the door.

Moments later a soft plop announced the new arrival. The Death Eater bowed to Voldemort, greeting him with a soft, questioning "My Lord?"

Harry barely recognised the man standing before them. Gone was the cowering, weak, afraid picture of misery. In front of him stood a proud man, a defiant man, straight and though not tall or muscular, there was a tense strength in his lean body. And still the same shadows, the haunted look in his eyes.

"Where is Dolohov?" Voldemort asked, looking the slender man up and down for signs of a fight; he found none.

"My Lord, there was an unfortunate incident." Travers inclined his head once more. "Dolohov was hit by several curses. I could bring you the remains, if you wish, my Lord."

"What incident?" Voldemort demanded suspiciously, his voice turning into a hiss with his anger.

"Excuse me." Harry glared at Voldemort. "I wanted to talk to Travers, not listen to you brabble about how you lost one of your minions. He's dead, great loss, really!"

"Would you like me to wait outside?" Voldemort asked sarcastically.

Harry chose to ignore his tone, nodding cheerfully. "I'm sure you have better things to do. Remy, Fen, give me a few minutes, please?"

While Remus obediently got up, squeezing Harry's hand for encouragement, Fenrir only snorted and tightened his arms around the black-haired man's slim waist.

"Fen..." Harry sighed. "I'm not up for this."

"Too bad, I'm not up for leaving you," Fenrir replied. "I'll be staying right here."

"Fen..."

"Don't mind me. I won't listen. Besides, I know about him, and I know about you. I heard you chatting before."

"Would someone mind telling me what I'm doing here?" Travers interrupted them, his arms crossed defiantly over his chest. "I don't remember 'chatting' with Potter."

Harry made sure the others had left the room, before speaking, "I'm the white wolf who came to you in the night. I know what they did to you. What Dolohov did. You killed him."

It wasn't a question, nor a reproach, merely a statement. Travers glanced at the werewolf and then took a careful step towards the bed. "I killed him, and Mulciber and Rookwood. I'll get them all, eventually."

"Voldemort's getting suspicious," Harry offered cautiously, motioning the Death Eater closer. "He won't tolerate you killing his minions."

"No, but I can't tolerate them living, knowing what they did." Travers shrugged. "Justice is worth displeasing the Dark Lord."

"Justice?" Harry asked softly. "You call this- Oh, yes, right, Death Eater. I guess a few more murders won't weigh too heavily on your already burdened conscience." Travers nodded, and Harry sighed. "But maybe there's an alternative-"

"Not for me, little Patronus." Travers grimaced crookedly. "Though I thank you for your concern and care in that place."

"Don't think I'll just accept this as your fate," Harry warned. "We'll see if I can't change your mind yet..."

"Yes, we'll see," Travers agreed. "Until then, I hope you regain your health, little Patronus."

"Send Voldemort and Remus back in, please?" Harry asked when Travers turned to go. "And don't let them kill you. You have to give me a chance."

"I don't plan on it." Travers grimaced again, and Harry realised it was Travers' way of smiling.

The Death Eater left, and Fenrir's massive chest expanded as he took a deep breath, preparing to berate Harry for his foolish hero complex and remind him that he needed to rest not worry about murderers and rapists and Dark Lords, but before he could start with his tirade, Remus and Voldemort came back in. Remus took a seat on the edge of the bed, as far as possible away from Fenrir and as close as possible to Harry.

"You mustn't kill him," Harry said abruptly, staring at the Dark Lord. "I care about him, and I'll be upset if you do."

"About whom are we talking here?" Voldemort asked, casually twirling his wand between his fingers. "Lupin here? Greyback? One of your old friends?"

"Travers, I don't want you to kill Travers," Harry clarified.

"Would I have a reason to?" Voldemort asked innocently.

"Since when do you need a reason to kill someone?" Harry retorted. "You might be having a bad day, and if he's unfortunate enough to be around, you might get the idea that it could cheer you up to kill him. So, I'm telling you now that you mustn't kill him."

"Interesting," Voldemort mused. "Still the little hero, Harry Potter. Though I wonder why you feel the need to protect a Death Eater, and from me, no less."

"Because I like him, and because you're a bastard," Harry answered shortly. "If you don't kill anyone I care for for a while, I might agree to a deal with you."

Voldemort smiled a rather grotesque smile in reply, a smile that hadn't been used for such a long time that the muscles had trouble remembering how to form it, but a smile nonetheless. For a second Harry saw the Tom Riddle of the diary, the handsome youth with heaps of charisma and charm.

Harry glared at him, feeling himself mocked, and turned his back on him as much as possible with wasn't much considering that Fenrir still had a tight hold on him.

"I mean it."

"If you say so, Harry Potter," Voldemort replied, his voice a hissed whisper, half threat, half something else that Harry couldn't identify. "Rest now. You will need your strength."

The Dark Lord turned to go for good, opening the door with a negligent wave of his wand and gliding out of the room. Harry waited a moment, listening to the fading foot falls before he turned to Fenrir.

"I want to go. I'm not staying here."

"Something wrong with your head? You aren't to move from this bed," Fenrir retorted.

"I'm not staying here!" Harry repeated with more emphasis. "Either you help me get out of here, or I'm going alone."

"Cub, this really might not be such a good idea," Remus offered cautiously. "Your wounds might reopen, and..."

"I don't feel safe here. I want to go, Remy. I can't heal here with Voldemort being informed about everything I do or say or think."

"And where would you go?" Fenrir asked sarcastically. "You have nowhere to go."

"I see that now, yes," Harry replied with bitterness in his voice. "I'll find some place."

"To die."

"I can only hope."

"Cub-"

"You won't die, you stupid wizard! I won't allow it!"

"Alpha-"

"Oh, so you want me to live, do you? For what fucking purpose, huh? I'm sure in the time I'll need to recover you'll be able to find someone else to put your cock into."

"That's enough, Harry Potter!" Remus all but shouted, tugging Harry into his own arms, despite Fenrir's warning growl. "I'm still here, and I care about you, as you well know. If you really want to leave, I'll make the necessary preparations..."

"I think, I still have a word to say to that," Fenrir intervened.

"I think you don't," Harry snapped. "Please, Remy. I'll suffocate in here."

Remus nodded and made to get up from the bed, but before he had moved more than an inch, Fenrir had closed his hand around his throat, his canines bared threateningly, his golden eyes narrowed in anger.

"This discussion is not over, Lupin. And you'd do well to keep out of it from now on." He tightened his hand, cutting of Remus' air supply. "Remember your place, Lupin."

"Yes, Alpha," Remus whispered, lowering his eyes and tilting his head to expose his vulnerable throat. "But-"

"Nothing but!" Fenrir said forcefully. "Leave."

"No, you can't do that!" Harry protested, struggling weakly as Fenrir pulled him back into his lap. "You can't just rule over my life. You can't take Remus from me. You can't..."

"Shutting up would be a good option right now, silly thing," Fenrir grumbled. "I can't think when you're whinging in my ear."

"There's nothing-"

"Shh." Fenrir admonished, putting a finger to Harry's lips. "You shut up now, I'm taking you away, to my pack, but only if you calm down now, sleep and try to recover."

"I thought you didn't want me with you." Harry glared.

"Stupid wolf," Fenrir murmured. "I just think you're overreacting, but if it's so important to you to leave this comfortable room and switch it for the hard, cold ground and trees as the only protection, I won't stop you."

"That's exactly what I want."

"Then we'll leave tonight. Sleep now, Lupin will look to the preparations."

"But-"

"I'll be staying here with you. That's final," Fenrir growled. "Go, Lupin."

"It's okay, cub," Remus murmured soothingly, squeezing Harry's hand. "I'll come back. You just rest and gain some strength."

"Are you suddenly ashamed because you slept with a werewolf?" Fenrir demanded as soon as the door had closed behind Lupin. "Or why are you being so hostile?"

"What? I am being hostile?" Harry retorted. "You just insulted my intelligence and insinuated no one wanted me. Well, guess what, I didn't like that."

"So sorry to have hurt your little heart," Fenrir mocked. "You're such a sissy."

"And you're an asshole. You don't want me with you, fine. You don't want to take me to your pack, great. You think I'm not good enough for you, perfect. But don't you dare treat Remus like this."

"I'm taking you to my pack, don't I? And I treat my pack members however I please..."

"Then you're a possessive asshole. You don't like me or Remus, but you can't stand the thought of us being happy - What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Making you shut up," Fenrir murmured, crushing his lips to Harry's, his left hand sneaked under his shirt.

"Ouch, you bastard, that hurts." Harry panted, pushing against Fenrir's massive chest.

Fenrir unwillingly backed off. "Stupid wolf, and you want to move around. You can't even take a simple kiss."

"Shut up," Harry grumbled, pulling the blanket over himself. "Just shut up, Fen."

The werewolf laughed, but tugged the blanket protectively around Harry's slender form and watched the young man sleep, though it wasn't the most interesting activity. If he was honest with himself, he welcomed Harry's wish to leave the Headquarters of the Dark Order, to leave this sticky castle that felt almost like another prison to him. He wasn't sure he understood Harry's reasoning and he was worried the journey, not far by any means, but not easy either, and the less comfortable life in the woods would aggravate Harry's injuries.

But he needed to go back, an absent Alpha wasn't a good Alpha, and he had been absent for too long. When he had declared that he would be staying at the castle for a bit longer, his pack hadn't been happy. At the castle, he had said, not with Harry, but he was sure his pack had filled in the gap when they had seen how he had rushed to Harry's side with a complete lack of dignity.

But it had been almost his duty to look after Harry, after what the young Animagus had done for him in Azkaban. And he took duty seriously. Harry was one of his pack now, too. Like Remus Lupin. He growled. Who did the mangy mutt think he was? He was making the decisions here, not Dumbledore's former lapdog!

Harry shifted on the bed, sighing softly, and Fenrir leaned closer to make sure Harry was still asleep. Then he studied the pale face, the slightly creased brow and the sooty, curled lashes that fanned over Harry's cheek. He looked almost sweet, almost innocent, as if he could harm no one, as if no one could harm him. Untouchable.

But it was easy to touch him, he confirmed for himself, brushing a strand of dark hair out of Harry's face and then playing with his rough fingers over Harry's smooth cheek. Harry wasn't untouchable. He was irresistible. For a mere human.

Well, that was the first chapter (and I'm sure you hadn't figured that out on your own yet) and now I'll be waiting for my first review...