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Dogs of Destruction

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Aunt Petunia had taken Dudley out to buy new clothing earlier in the day, as he had outgrown all of his old things (an entire wardrobe in just one year!), a few towns over and would be staying the night in a hotel. Which had left Harry alone with Vernon.

His aunt and cousin had been gone for a couple of hours and it was late, Harry diligently working on his chores and avoiding thinking of Cedric when Vernon made his move. His uncle was watching a game show on the telly and Harry had to walk between the two to get the vacuum, which was the last thing he had to do, then he could go to bed, already dressed in pajamas. Uncaring if he was obstructing his uncles' view, he walked by but stopped when his uncle cleared his throat.

"Come here, Harry." He frowned at Vernon, the man hadn't called him by his name in...ever?

"Why?" Harry asked, suspicious. Vernon seemed relaxed, and Harry hadn't done anything (besides being born) to make him angry, but it was hard to tell what could set his Uncle off sometimes.

"I want you to sit with me, Harry," Vernon said, and Harry squinted at him.

"WHY?" he asked, completely bewildered. He wasn't supposed to sit on the furniture and his uncle didn't like him, obviously, so he didn't understand why Vernon would want him next to him on the aforementioned furniture.

"I need to vacuum, Uncle Vernon," Harry protested and Vernon didn't reply other than motioning for Harry to sit. He did, as far away as he could get from the man. Vernon allowed it for a few highly awkward minutes, then grabbed Harry by his upper arm and yanked him closer.

"C'mere, Harry. I want you to sit with me, not avoid me," he said. He released Harry after forcing him to tuck against his side and went back to watching his show, arm resting on the back of the couch. Harry sat as still as he could, but as more time passed and nothing happened, he found himself getting sleepy.

He was still anxious, Vernon wasn't this touchy feely unless he was going to do something to him but he was so, so tired. It had been a long day plus he hadn't been sleeping well because of the nightmares about the graveyard. He was falling asleep before he knew it, pressed up against his uncle.

 

He was too disoriented when he woke up to object to the manhandling that placed him straddling his uncles' lap. He looked at the man in confusion, blinking blearily.

"Have a good nap?" his uncle asked and Harry frowned.

"W-what are you doing?" he questioned, rubbing his eyes and yawning. His legs were stretched wide around his uncles' legs, but he was too tired to care. Harry didn't wait for an answer, just wiggled closer so he could bury his face in Vernon's neck and hopefully fall back asleep. The man made a surprised noise but wrapped his arms around him and held him tight anyway.

He was dozing when Vernon's hands slid from where they had been petting his back to rest on his hips. He startled awake and squirmed, not liking the feeling of those big hands holding him in place. "What are you doing?" he repeated, pulling back to look him in the eye.

"I'm just going to take care of you like I always do," the man replied, fingers dipping below the waistband of his pants.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Take care of me?" Harry snorted. "Oh!" he gasped, alarmed when his uncle pulled him up to rest on his knees, and he had to place his hands on his shoulders to keep balance.

"I'm going to make you feel good," his uncle said, slowly pulling down Harry's pajamas and pants, "don't you want to feel good?" Vernon settled him back onto his lap, Harry covering his cock with his hands, embarrassed and frightened. "No?" he replied uncertainly, staring at his uncle with wide eyes.

The man chuckled and grabbed Harry's wrists, pulling his hands away from when they were shielding his cock from view.

"No? You don't want to feel good? It's okay, I'll show you," the man said, prompting Harry to put his hands back on his shoulders.

"Nnn– " Harry made a high noise in his throat and slammed his eyes shut when Vernon reached down to gently fondle his cock. He was used to it, as much as he could be, but it never got any better. Humiliating and disgusting. Vernon had started when he turned ten. He had learned about it in school before Hogwarts, he knew you were supposed to scream and call for help, but it didn't ever REALLY hurt and if he was taken from the Dursleys it would be to an orphanage.

Vernon shifted and Harry heard a soft 'click' but didn't open his eyes. Not even when his uncle tugged him forward for Harry to tuck his head under his chin. It left his arse exposed and it made him feel weird. He did jerk and yelp when something slick touched his hole. He whimpered, craning his head back to see what was touching him. Vernon got weird ideas sometimes. Vernon shushed him and started pushing his finger inside.

"That hurts," Harry said, hiding his face in the man's chest. "It will feel better, you know this," he replied. "Take it out, please," Harry begged, shaking. He would never get used to this feeling. Helpless and forced to take it.

He hissed when Vernon finally stopped pushing, all the way inside now. It burned. It wasn't horrible, but he wasn't used to feeling pain inside him after so long. It mostly was just uncomfortable and he still couldn't understand why Vernon would want to touch a place so dirty. He sighed when the man started thrusting his finger inside. His uncle kept it up until it didn't hurt anymore and then slowly added another finger.

"If you relax you will feel better, Harry," the man reminded, rubbing his back with his other hand. It was the soft 'Harry' that did it, his body relaxing and Vernon the opportunity to push in two more fingers. That hurt.

Harry yelped with tears immediately coming to his eyes and falling, soaking Vernon's shirt. There were four inside him, and his hole was clenching on them, just as confused by the feelings as Harry was.

"It HURTS," he whined again while trying to pull away. Vernon had never gone past two. Vernon just tightened his grip and moved his fingers more. He crooked them and twisted his hand and the tips of his fingers touched something that made his toes tingle. "Oh– " Harry gasped and Vernon said smugly, "There we go. I told you it would feel good," pushing against that spot and making Harry squirm.

"That's why freak faggots do it here." That was hypocritical, considering he had his fingers inside of Harry's arse. His cock felt good too, and he looked down to see it pointing up. "No– " Vernon glanced down to see what he was looking at and said, "What? Never had a stiffy before? It happens when your body feels good, that's how you come," he explained.

Harry knew what coming was, he had heard other boys and girls talking about it. But he hadn't ever had a 'stiffy' or orgasm before. Ron teased him about it sometimes, actually. He hesitantly brought a hand down to touch, moaning in pleasure at just his light touching.

"Keep doing that, boy. You get so much tighter," his uncle said. The fingers slipped out of him, and Vernon undid his trousers. Harry gasped and released his own when he saw Vernon's cock for the first time, it was thick and long and red, filled with blood. His was tiny compared to it.

"Kneel up," Vernon commanded and Harry did so shakily, hole feeling open and really wet. He was guided back down and felt what could only be Vernon's cock press against his hole.

“Don’t! No– ” he choked on his words when Vernon's hand shot up and wrapped tightly around his throat, undoubtedly leaving bruises.

“Quiet, boy,” his uncle panted. "You want me to be angry?" With a weak whine, Harry shook his head and went limp. “You gonna be good, boy?” Harry nodded, shivering and heaving against his uncle's chest. He jerked as he felt renewed pressure against his arse, something too big trying to force its way inside. His hole was open enough that his uncle's cock started to slip in and the fear and panic hit him fast and his prior obedience vanished.

"Get off me! Stop it!" he screamed, throwing his head backward and, judging by the crunch and scent of blood, breaking Vernon's nose.

"You bloody brat!" his uncle shouted, hand clamped over his injured nose.

Harry didn't wait to see what would happen, he tugged his sleep pants up and bolted. He spared a thought to Hedwig, but the cage and window were both open and she knew to go to the Burrow if he wasn't back, so he threw the front door open and sprinted down the street. By the time he got to the park his feet were filthy and bleeding from the asphalt but he didn't slow down.

From what he could tell, Vernon hadn't bothered to even leave the house but he was still worried about the man following him. He ran into the trees, heart pounding and lungs burning. he finally stopped because he was too dazed to continue. Harry couldn't catch his breath and was so dizzy he had to sit down with his back to a tree. The were loud whining noises that he distantly knew were him; crying so hard he was going to be sick. Everything hurt, especially his arse and throat.

His uncle had almost– no. He wouldn't think about it. He pulled his legs up to his chest and buried his face in his knees, crying even harder now. It was impossible to avoid it. Vernon had tried, almost succeeded, to rape him.

___

It was just luck, honestly. Fenrir had been out, definitely NOT basking in the light of the moon, when he smelled the boy.

The fear scent was strong, easy to track, and Fenrir found him in minutes. He had the smell of blood, artificial slick and another man's arousal on him, curled up against a tree sobbing through a panic attack. It was obvious what had happened.

He stepped closer, allowing a dead branch to snap under his food. The kid froze but didn't uncurl from his ball, sobs quieting a little while the smell of his fear increased tenfold. "I'm not going to hurt you, little one," Fenrir said walking over to crouch in front of the child. He could now see the blood was from his feet and couldn't smell release on him, so maybe the man hadn't gotten as far as he assumed.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he repeated and the boy finally looked up. His eyes were a pretty green, pupils dilated in the dark. He was still crying but his heartbeat had slowed. Fenrir reached a hand out, pausing at the flinch, and tucked a strand of hair behind the child's ear. It shifted his bangs, revealing a familiar lightning bolt scar. He barely contained his gasp, and it seemed the boy missed his surprise.

Harry Potter? Attacked in a muggle neighborhood? His clothing was muggle as well, a large, ratty shirt combined with sleep pants. He cleared his throat and asked, "What's your name, boy?" He was shocked at the full-body shudder and whimper at the title, Harry hissing out a vehement, "Don't call me that!" He held his hands up in a placating manner and repeated, "What's your name?" The child sniffled and in a small voice replied, "Harry." Fenrir watched him as he rubbed at his eyes, and hummed.

"My name is Fenrir Greyback," he said, looking for signs of recognition. He saw none and gathered the boy lived with muggles in this neighborhood, obviously for a long time judging by his familiarity with the forest (He had noticed most of the humans kept to the park, keeping themselves and their children far away, only the older ones seemed comfortable around it). The boy– no, Harry, was completely oblivious to the fact he had killer a mere meter away from him. Fenrir stood, and held a hand out to the child.

He stared at it for a minute then hesitantly took it, as if his hand would burst into flames the second they touched. Fenrir pulled him to his feet, watching the boy wobble like a newborn pup. He didn't release his hand, just turned and started walking deeper into the forest, pulling Harry behind him. "Where are we going?" Harry whispered, heart beginning to beat fast again. "My home." He replied.

The boy dug his heels in, a pained noise escaping and Fenrir suddenly remembered his torn up feet.

"Why? I don't– " Harry's heartbeat had really picked up now, and Fenrir turned back to him, noting the panicked expression.

"Calm down, little one, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not leaving you out here like this, so you're coming home with me." He tugged on the kid until he was close enough to pick up, and did just that, ignoring his squeak.

He surprisingly didn't struggle, just wrapped his legs around his waist with a wince, trusting Fenrir to hold him up and taking his words at face value. They didn't talk the rest of the walk, the child sniffling occasionally and alternating between calm and near-hysteria. The den came into view, unnoticeable unless you knew where to look. He didn't put the kid down, carried him inside the cave and set him down on the bed of furs.

"Stay," he said, grabbing a stolen pot and going back outside to get water from the stream.

He was proud of his den, nice grassy clearing with fresh water just a few meters away from the entrance. He filled the pot and hurried back to the dark cave, but he hadn't needed to. The only move Harry had made was to lay down and pull some of the soft furs close. Good boy. (Although, he also likely couldn't see anything.)

Fenrir could, so didn't feel a need to light a fire, and grabbed a spare cloth and sat down at the boy's feet. "Let me see," he demanded and Harry hesitantly shifted around so that he was on his back rather than his side and gave access to his injured feet.

They were starting to scab over in places, but humans were weak and prone to infection and his feet were filthy. They needed to be cleaned. He dipped the cloth in the water and took hold of the boy's left ankle in a firm hand and started rubbing the grit off his foot.

The boy would jerk a little once in a while, in aborted attempts to pull away, but Fenrir didn't release him until the only thing marring his soft skin was torn flesh. He repeated the process with the other foot after changing the water. They had looked much worse than they were, he would be fine in a few days.

Besides twitching, the boy was docile the entire time, content to rub his hands or cheek against the rabbit fur under him. He was significantly calmer than he was earlier. Probably worn out from his panic. Fenrir dumped the filthy water outside and cleaned the pot and rag with borrowed (also stolen) soap, then himself in the stream and returned to Harry after pulling his pants back on. The boy was asleep, in a tight little ball similar to the one Fenrir found him in. His default defensive position, presumably. The very tip of his thumb was in his mouth, making him look younger than what Fenrir knew he was (Thirteen? Fourteen?).

The man sighed but laid down next to him, rolling over to tug the boy against him. There was a chance he would freak when he woke up, but Fenrir didn't trust him to not run.

Chapter Text

The first thing Harry became aware of was a warm arm keeping him tight against someone's front. His entire body went tense and he stopped breathing. "How did he find me?" He thought, horrified.

"Calm down, kid. It's me." Oh. Not Vernon. Fenrir. Right.

Harry relaxed back against him, looking around the cave in the daylight. It was surprisingly...nice. The bed (a pile of, admittedly awesome, fur) was at the very back of the cave, and there were shallow holes in the cave wall being used as shelves housing mismatched dishware and random items (is that a toothbrush?). No furniture but there was a firepit, lined by rocks, smack-dab in the middle of the cavern. It would have taken a good amount of force and time to make the divot. Simple but cozy home.

"What are you thinking?" the man behind him asked.

Harry shyly replied, "Your home is really nice," and the man behind him gave a loud bark of laughter. He released Harry to roll him over so they were still on their sides, but lying face to face, Fenrir now resting one hand on the small of Harry's back and the other holding his head up, fingers hidden in his soft gray hair.

"I've lived here for a while. Probably about a year, now," he said.

Harry nodded and tentatively asked, "Alone?" immediately regretting it when the man stiffened and glared. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry– " he started, struggling to pull away. Fenrir growled and held on tighter, hand twitching against Harry's lower back. Harry went still, feeling the sharp prick of...claws? through his thin shirt. "I'm sorry," he repeated, looking at Fenrir with wide eyes.

The man grunted and his glare softened but there were still five little points pressing against his skin. Harry lifted up onto his elbow and craned his head back to see Fenrir's hand, and sure enough, his nails had become pointy claws. Harry whipped his head back to face the man, gaping. Fenrir was smirking at him and he adjusted them so that Harry was laying on his chest. "Look," he said, holding up a hand in front of Harry's face so he could watch as the claws reverted to normal looking fingernails. 

"What?" He knew his mouth was open, but he was stunned. What the hell? 

"You'll catch flies, kid," Fenrir said, pushing on Harry's chin until he closed his mouth. He looked all smug and Harry felt a flash of annoyance. "Piss off," he grumped, trying to wiggle out of Fenrir's embrace. Fenrir's chest shakes with his laughter and he just squished Harry against him, preventing his escape, and started rubbing his back. 

"Relax, Harry," Fenrir said and Harry huffed but stopped trying to shake Fenrir off and snuggled down against him again, pressing his face against Fenrir's chest. Fenrir thought he looked adorable.

"So, what are you?" His words were muffled, but Fenrir heard him just fine. "I'm a werewolf," the man said nonchalantly; like he was talking about the weather. Harry's head shot up, "Really?" and then, "But how do you get the wolfsbane potion?" He was unprepared for Fenrir's disgusted sneer and growl and jerked back a bit.

"I don't take that shit," the man said, "it fucks you up." He was glaring again, but Harry was pretty sure he wasn't mad at him. "But...can't you hurt people without it?" he asked, blinking at Fenrir in confusion.

The man let out an irritated, "UGH" but was still stroking his back him so he figured it was okay. "Of course I can. But I can hurt people with it just as easily," the man replied. 

Fenrir wasn't looking at him, and Harry asked "Have you? Hurt anyone?" though he wasn't sure if he actually wanted an answer or not. There was tension in the air now, Fenrir was stiff under him, movements not as smooth as before. He didn't want to scare the kid off, but there was no use in lying.

"Yes, I've hurt people. I'm not a good guy, kiddo." He tilted his head to stare at Harry, watching the child frown. Harry didn't look away from him, but Fenrir could smell fear scent again. "I'm not going to hurt you, Harry." Fenrir forced himself to relax and brought his hand up to run his fingers through Harry's soft hair. Harry bit his lip and the tension in the air lessened. "Why?"

Fenrir raised an eyebrow so Harry added, "Why'd you hurt them and not me? You won't– "

Fenrir shushed him and replied with, "it's been a while since I've done anything. And I won't hurt you because I like you. I wouldn't have gone through the trouble of hunting you down and bringing you back here so I could help you just to rip your pretty throat open. " Harry knew that blushing was probably not the correct reaction to that, but Fenrir was still petting his hair and cuddling him and it was nice.

Although..."Have you ripped someone's throat out?" Harry squeaked.

"Would it upset you if I said yes? I'm a violent man, sweetheart, when I'm a wolf and when I'm not."

"Did they deserve it?"

"Sometimes." Okay. Not reassuring.

"Last time I actively meant to cause harm was many years ago, '65?. This fuckwit of a guy said werewolves deserve death, so I attacked his kid." he ignored Harry's gasp of horror. "The father came just in time to run me off, but the kid was already bitten and subsequently a werewolf. I know that he is still alive, not sure about that asshole, though. Lyall Lupin, I think his name was."

Harry yanked himself out of Fenrir's arms so hard he would've toppled over backward if Fenrir hadn't caught him. "You're the one who bit Professor Lupin!" He had no idea how to deal with this, He liked Fenrir but...

"Professor? They let a werewolf be a teacher?" Fenrir asked incredulously, eyebrows high.

"I– Well, Dumbledore did, but Snape outed him after he forgot to take his potion and tried to eat me and my friend and he left before the parents could storm the castle. But that's beside the point! Remus is so sad! His life is terrible! Why would you go after a child?" Harry had been getting louder and louder, and Fenrir sat up to clap a hand over his mouth and he growled angrily. 

"It's not my fucking fault that the wizards are so prejudiced! He's depressed because he takes that damn potion!"

Harry pried his hand away from his mouth, shouting back "He's depressed because he's a werewolf! People treat werewolves– "

Fenrir shoved Harry off of him and stood. "You think I don't know how wizards treat us? I was younger then, I didn't think. I don't regret it, though I regret how fucked up normal wizards are." With that, he turned and stomped away, heading outside and leaving Harry sitting on the furs.

Chapter Text

Fenrir didn't come back.

Harry had no idea what time it was (and he figured no one is going to keep a clock in a cave) but Fenrir had been gone for a long time. Luckily, it was long enough to where Harry had calmed down. Oh, he was still angry, but he wasn't Professor Lupin or Fenrir so he couldn't really talk because he didn't really know the full story.

He had stupidly worried for a bit that Fenrir wouldn't return to the cave and had then remembered the man lived here. But as the day dragged on, he started to think that maybe Fenrir was waiting for him to leave so he could come back.

"Well," Harry thought as he rubbed the bruises left on his throat from Vernon, "fuck that". He would stay right where he was. It isn't like he can go anywhere else, anyway. He had no idea where they were, his feet hurt, and he would rather die than go back to his beastly uncle. Fenrir may be an arse but the thought of how angry his uncle would be after what happened...no, thank you. Fenrir would just have to man up and face him. He had to come home eventually.

Surprisingly, Harry was not afraid of the man now that he understood who he was. He couldn't care less about his werewolfism and he didn't think Fenrir would have helped him only to kill him later. He was anxious, yes, but Fenrir didn't seem that scary. Until he actually threatened Harry, he would stick to him like a leech. He wandered outside the den to sit in the meadow and wait for the werewolf to return.

---

Fenrir had to get away from the kid before he hit him. It's even more annoying because it's not like the little shit was completely wrong. He had lied. Fenrir did fucking regret biting the young Lupin, but the Wolfsbane potion did have many adverse side effects, one of which was depression. He shouldn't have bitten a child for his parent's mistakes, he should've just ripped out and eaten Lyall's heart. But, at least he didn't try to kill Remus.

But, like he told Harry, he was young back then. Most of his attacks were when he was in his 20's and without a pack. He was old enough now to be fine without one, but younger werewolves had trouble being on their own if raised in a pack, which he was. Their wolves are highly unstable; prone to violence and irrational behavior. The pack he had been caught with was not his own, simply one he had stayed with for a few days. The deaths of those children were not on him! He wasn't going to fight and lose against 30 wolves just to save two damn kids.

He had walked far from his den so Fenrir sighed and sat down, leaning against a tree. He idly watched the ants that marched past his feet for a few minutes and tried, unsuccessfully, to not think about Harry. Now that he had calmed a bit he felt a little guilty. Harry had just been through something traumatizing and Fenrir had abandoned him. He groaned and let his head fall back against the trunk of the tree behind him with an audible  'thunk'. What was he doing? He should know how to keep his temper, but here he was, probably terrifying some sweet kid.

He sighed once again and let his eyes close. He sat, unmoving, in that spot for a few hours, contemplating, before pushing himself to his feet and making his way back home. Hopefully, Harry wouldn't be too scared or angry when he returned. As he approached the den, he noticed Harry sitting in the grass making...making...was that a flower crown

"Cute," Fenrir whispered to himself, and then louder, "Little one?"

The boy jerked his head up and watched Fenrir as he walked up and crouched down in front of him. Fenrir winced when he saw Harry's eyes become suspiciously wet.

"I'm. I wanted to say that...I'm sorry," Fenrir was sure Harry could tell how much it pained him to apologize. It just wasn't something he did. What's the point of apologies if you don't mean them? What are you supposed to say, sorry not sorry?  Harry said nothing, just shyly held up the flower crown he had been making.

"This for me?"

"Yes."

Fenrir was amused by the fact that Harry seemed so sure he would take his little gift but was touched at the same time. No one had ever gifted him with anything before, and as disgustingly sentimental as it was, Fenrir felt himself soften towards Harry. He hummed and took the woven flowers from the kid and spent a minute looking at it. The colors were certainly clashing, red and yellow with some weird white shit mixed in, but it was sturdy. 

"Do you like it?" Harry asked after a while, and Fenrir noticed he had started fidgeting and the smell of anxiety. Instead of answering, he swiftly lifted the crown to his head and settled it in place. 

Fenrir bared his teeth in a smile and asked, "So, how do I look?" Harry's answering grin was nearly blinding, the threat of tears completely gone now. Instead, his eyes were sparkling happily as he giggled, sounding much younger than he was.

"Good! Um, are you still angry with me?" Harry looked up nervously, "I'm not mad at you! I think I understand. I was just upset because Professor Lupin was treated really badly when everyone found out he was a werewolf, and he didn't deserve it. I guess I should have figured wolfsbane did something bad because Professor Lupin always looked really sick." Harry startled a bit when Fenrir suddenly shifted so he was sitting, but the man was staring at him neutrally. He cleared his throat awkwardly and glanced away, unable to handle the stare.

"No, kid, I'm not mad," Fenrir said, sounding mildly guilty, "I shouldn't have gotten so angry; it's not your fault that you don't know this shit." It was true, Harry was still basically a child, and had apparently grown up with muggles. Even most wizarding children didn't know this, too much prejudice against magical beings and creatures present in the community. Harry looked back over at him and smiled, and Fenrir knew things would be fine between them. 

That being said, it was time to address an important topic while Harry was not upset. Fenrir sighed, and said, "So, now that all the apologies and crap are done with, I wanted to talk to you about something." He pushed himself to his feet and held out a hand for Harry to take before leading him back into the cave. "I know you left your uncle with only the shirt on your back, and I wanted to know if you need to get things from the house."

Immediately, Harry's face lost all colour. "Oh. Well, my wand and school stuff is there, but my uncle probably burned the trunk so I guess just my wand? Hedwig, my owl, knows to go to my friend's house if I leave for a while or cannot take care of her, she's really smart..." he trailed off, looking at Fenrir with a furrowed brow. Eventually, he sighed in resignation and said, "I probably need my wand."

Fenrir could smell anxiety and fear once again but steeled himself against the urge to tell Harry to disregard the notion. He needed his wand, underage magic be damned. He was perfectly capable of protecting or hiding Harry from any pathetic ministry official that came for him. "Alright. Well, I was gone for a lot longer then I planned on, so we're going to need to leave now to make it out of the forest before it's too dark-I don't want you tripping over everything," was what he said instead. Not like he was going to let the kid walk that far with his feet like they were, he just didn't want to deal with a terrified kid while making sure nobody snuck up on them.

Harry took an anxious step towards Fenrir, stepped right on a rock that penetrated one of the cuts on his feet, and leap on Fenrir with a pained yelp.

"Ow! Oh, I'm sorry! Ugh, that actually really hurts!" Luckily, Fenrir caught him, because Harry didn't want to know how the cold ground would feel upon impact. Fenrir just figured now he had an excuse to carry the boy through the forest. Handy. Except Harry was wiggling to be set down, set on digging the rock out of his foot, so Fenrir walked over to the bed and dumped him onto it to deal with his feet, ignoring his offended shout of, "What- Fenrir!".

"Hold still! I'm helping," he admonished, bending down to tug the (small. Very small.) rock out of Harry's foot. Miraculously, the boy did, going quiet and still, but that didn't stop the glare aimed directly at Fenrir's nose. With a triumphant noise from Fenrir and a pained whine from Harry, the pebble came free and Fenrir tossed the bloodied object out of the cave. "There. All done, you're fine," he said with a smirk, and just got a grumpy harumph for his efforts. Fine then. 

That ordeal over and done with, Fenrir stood, hoisted Harry first to his feet and then, in a move he impressed himself with, swung Harry up onto his back. "Okay! Let's get your shit real quick," he said, and Harry tightened his limbs against him, then replied with a shaky, but still affirmative, noise.

They made their way out of the forest slowly, despite what Fenrir had said about getting his things "real quick". The man kept pausing and turning to walk in a different direction, only to do the same thing a few meters later. Finally, Harry gave up trying to figure it out and asked, "Why are you walking so weird?" When Fenrir didn't reply, Harry dug his knees harshly into his sides, his anxiety making him easily irritated.

To his satisfaction, he got an immediate response. "God! Relax, little one, I'm just following your scent trail to get us back to your house. It's old so it's hard to follow, and has gotten distorted," Fenrir said, and swiftly turned back the way they had just come. "Don't be so impatient, you ran all over the place and I don't hunt that much anymore," he continued, and Harry had a sudden flashback to his Aunt worrying over recent break-ins that had been attributed to homeless people in the area because only food and simple household items were taken. So that's where Fenrir got all those pans...

"Oh. Sorry?" Harry couldn't keep the amusement out of his voice and smiled at Fenrir innocently when he stopped and looked over his shoulder to stare at him in suspicion. The man went back to walking, and replied, "Yeah, yeah, brat. Look, I did it and we're getting shoes so you get to walk on the way back. Can you get us to your place?" Harry looked up and, sure enough, the trees had thinned and the neighborhood was in sight. It still wasn't full dark, so Harry successfully directed Fenrir to his house. The man noticed a few curtains moving, but no one came outside to watch them tromp by.

Getting closer to the house, Harry told him, "I don't think anyone is home" and the same time Fenrir noted, "There aren't new scent trails; no one is home". They both snorted, and Harry was so relieved he got dizzy. But then, "Wait, if no one's home how do we get in? No, I don't have a key, they don't trust me," he said before Fenrir could open his mouth to ask just that. Fenrir stopped to let him down, then walked confidently up to the front door. With an effortless twist, he broke the lock on the door handle and jerked the door open so hard that both the chain lock and deadbolt ripped right out and the door swung open.

"After you," Fenrir said with a smirk, as Harry stared at him, speechless. He shook his head and slowly inched inside, but if someone had been home they would have definitely heard that. He jumped when the door closed behind them loudly, blushing furiously while Fenrir apologized. The first thing he looked to was the cupboard under the stairs. Harry doubted anything would be in there, but got Fenrir to break it open anyway. 

To his great surprise and relief, his trunk was there. As was Hedwig's cage, which he knew for a fact was not there when he left. Uncle Vernon must have stuffed everything down here, possibly for disposal at a later date. Fenrir looked over from where he'd gone off to study picture frames marveling at the absolutely hideous family that lived in Number 4 Privet Drive just in time to see Harry's eyes go wide right before the boy zipped up the stairs. He watched him go, looked at the cupboard that was making his hair stand on end, then decided it would be best to follow. He was halfway up the stairs when he heard Harry's yell of, "AHA! FOUND IT!". He'd have to lecture the boy on supernatural hearing because, shit, that was fucking loud. 

"What'd you find?" He asked as he came into what must be Harry's bedroom. His question was answered quickly when Harry stood up from a hole in the floorboards, glasses slightly askew and wand held in front of him like a trophy. "Congratulations. Uh, not to be rude, but since everything important has been found, why don't you go take a shower?" Harry frowned at him, and then scrunched his nose up in an attempt to fix his glasses. 

"Hmm, I suppose that would be a good idea. But what if they come back while I'm taking a shower?" he asked worriedly, but went to dig through his closet anyway. At least Vernon hadn't emptied that yet.

"I'll take care of that if it happens. Take your shower, brush your teeth, whatever. I'll be downstairs," Harry turned with all his things and a small, ratty gym bag to ask Fenrir just what exactly "I'll take care of that" meant, but the man had already left. Harry decided he'd just have to trust Fenrir, and the man had already done so much to help already. Plus, werewolf vs. weak humans? Fenrir would be fine. Harry left to follow Fenrir's advice, brush his teeth and shower, oblivious to the man having snuck back upstairs to root through his relative's rooms. 

---

Fenrir was disappointed. There wasn't anything interesting or incriminating, besides some low-quality marijuana poorly hidden in a desk drawer, in either of the bedrooms or downstairs. The house seemed perfectly normal. He wandered back downstairs to where they found Harry's trunk, and immediately changed his mind. Even though he had a relatively weak magical core, Fenrir could feel the negative energy radiating from the cupboard. No wonder he'd felt so uncomfortable next to it. He'd have to ask Harry what the hell was up with that because he definitely did not like it.

Resigned to wait for the boy to get out of his shower (at least he wasn't bored- Fenrir could hear him humming an unknown tune), Fenrir began to walk over to the kitchen to find food. However, he hadn't gone farther than two steps before he heard a car pull into the driveway. With nowhere to hide and no way to hide the evidence of the broken door, Fenrir turned and backed away to wait for whoever was home (hopefully, he thought darkly, Harry's uncle.

He heard heavy footsteps and cheerful whistling, then a pause and angry growl as the person, now identified as Harry's uncle, saw the broken door. The door was pushed open to reveal the man Fenrir saw in the photos. His face was red, a bandage was on his clearly broken nose, and his truly awful mustache was quivering with rage. The man's eyes dropped to the open cupboard and immediately his mouth opened to yell as he kicked the door shut behind him. But, whatever was going to come after the shout of "boy" was choked on when he noticed Fenrir.

After a bewildered pause, he shouted, "Who the hell are you? I won't have any of that freakishness in this house! Get out. GET OUT, I say! And you can tell the boy that his things are being destroyed TODAY, and he's not welcome back!" 

Hoping Harry hadn't heard that, Fenrir lunged forward and grabbed the man by the throat. "You shut your little mouth, you disgusting cretin," Fenrir hissed in his face, "You're lucky I haven't ripped apart your precious house". The man was making ugly gasping noises and whimpers, all bravado lost as soon as his airway closed and Fenrir's manifested claws dug into his skin. 

Fenrir dragged the man over to the couch and shoved him down, possibly harder than necessary as the couch almost tipped over. The man started coughing painfully once Fenrir released him, desperately trying to get his breath back.

"Now, you are going to stay quiet, or I'll enjoy cracking open your ribcage and eating your organs as you watch," he threatened, staring down at the now terrified fuck sitting before him. It was a bluff, of course, Fenrir didn't want Harry to see him do that so soon after they had made up, but the man obviously didn't know that and went silent as soon as he stopped hacking up a lung. Fenrir released the gag, which the man knew better than to spit out, and crossed his arms. Harry appeared to have been blissfully unaware of his uncle's arrival, as the shower was still running. 

Looking at the man with his head slightly cocked, and quickly deciding, Fenrir said, "Me and you are going to have a talk. Every time you say something I don't like, I'm going to break a finger, understand?" He smiled when the man nodded frantically, and the man looked even more afraid. "Let's begin. And uncurl you fists, idiot. That won't stop me". Thinking about it, Fenrir added, "If you scream, I'll break two."

He began with the most the most pressing question, "When will your wife and child be home?"

The man's eyes widened, and he whined, "Leave them alone, they haven't done anything!" Fenrir bent down and quickly snapped the man's pointer finger backward, slapping a hand over his mouth before he could shout. "I highly doubt that, and it isn't what I asked. When. Will. They. Be. Home." With each word, he bent back the thumb on the same hand, breaking it on the last word, grinning as tears started pouring down the man's face and then wrinkling his nose when the unmistakable scent of urine hit the air. He nearly shoved himself away from this miserable excuse for a human, but stopped and backhanded him with the hand that had previously been covering his mouth instead. "Answer me!" He demanded.

"I don't know! probably in a few hours! She was just taking Dudders shopping for a new wardrobe; he outgrew everything we bought last summer!" Finally. Jesus.

"Good. Now that I know we won't be getting more uninvited guests...Was that the first time you had sexually assaulted your nephew? If no, how many times and how long?" A question he didn't really have the business to hear the answer to from someone that wasn't Harry, but he had to know. He prayed Harry took a long shower, it had already been 10 minutes. 

"No," he said with a sneer, "The freak made m-no, don't!" Too late, Fenrir had already jerked his middle finger to the side and was only mildly satisfied by the crack of his first and second knuckles. What was satisfying was the swift punch delivered to the man's solar plexus to stop the scream the almost escaped. It may have been a mistake because now he'd have to wait for the man to stop spasming from the pain of having his diaphragm spasm, but it sure felt good.

He waited, extremely irritated, and once the man was able to focus, calmly asked him to continue. He did, however nervously and cautiously, obviously expected more pain. 

"The BOY was just too pretty!" He tried to defend, and yeah, Fenrir had noticed Harry was a handsome child (feeling mildly ill as he did). "I tried to stop myself for years, but he just got more and more beautiful as he grew up. I finally couldn't take it anymore. His tenth birthday, Petunia and Dudley left, and so I got Harry into my bedroom. I never went past fingering him, I swear!"

"That doesn't excuse it, you fuck! He was a little kid, he didn't know what you were doing, and you were an adult who knew better and did it anyway! Shit...finish. Quickly, I'm sick of this." Harry's uncle was staring at him, and it took an impatient, "WELL?" and Fenrir reaching for his ring finger to get him to start speaking again.

"I...as often as I could. His going to the freak school-NO!" You would think he'd have made the connection from the last time he said that word, but no. Fenrir dryly said, "You only have one finger left now. Be smart."

The man was just whimpering now, so Fenrir backhanded him again. And again. "Speak, man! I don't have all day!" No, he just had until Harry was done in the shower. 20 minutes now.

The man finally began to talk again, stuttering through his words. "H-He left, so I could only get to him over breaks. I can't keep c-c-count of how many times I've done it. He never really protested though, so he m-must have wanted it," he managed, and Fenrir broke his pinkie finger. "Why!? I told you what you wanted to know!" the pathetic man questioned, and Fenrir said, "Because you're disgusting. It's a miracle you haven't been murdered yet." Fenrir stood and popped his back, and looked imperiously in the watery eyes of Harry's abuser. 

"Tell me, and you had better fucking hurry, what else you and your family have done to him," he ordered. 

"Done to him? Done to him!? He deserved all of it," the man hissed, "We never wanted him. He made all of us miserable! Using his freakishness to get better grades than our Dudders, making us lie to the neighbors, getting us threatened by that Dumbliedore man-" he cut himself off when Fenrir growled thunderously. "...I am going to ignore, for now, that you just said all of that, and you are going to answer my question before I break your entire arm," he said, beginning to slur because his fangs had appeared. 

Harry's uncle whimpered and started crying once again, but obediently started relaying what Harry had grown up with. "Well, we were forced to take him in by Dumdore, and we had to make sure Dudley had enough room for his toys, so we generously gave him the cupboard under the stairs as a bedroom. We never gave him anything special, because we wouldn't want him to be a spoiled freak instead of just a freak, but he still expected us to let him do all the same things as Dudley! Once he could stand and understand, we had him start making meals for us, but he wanted to play or laze about! He'd even burn the food or himself to get out of doing it!", this Fenrir doubted, but stood silently, raising a brow to have the man continue. 

"Um, well, so, we decided that if he wanted to do that, he obviously didn't want to eat like us normal people, so of course we gave him smaller portions of everything or had him miss meals. Who knew a child could be so vile and bothersome? And we had to physically discipline him quite a bit, Petunia's favorites were the frying pans," the man added fondly, "but I would just hit him, much less effort expended on him, the little waste of space. If Dumbledim hadn't said he'd be watching us-and he must have approved of how we've raised the boy-I would have left him in the cold or drowned him when he was still a baby!"

At that, Fenrir had had enough. This man just cheerfully confessed to the abuse and wish to murder Harry, a sweet child, Fenrir's Little One, and he was so enraged that everything felt cold. He reeled his arm back to punch the man before him and right before he did, heard a tiny noise from the stairs. He dropped his arm, and slowly turned, knowing and dreading what he was about to see. Sure enough, there stood Harry, wide-eyed and shivering as he looked at the scene before him. He was fully dressed, shoes and all, with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

Before Fenrir could say anything, Harry's uncle was already speaking. "Boy! Get over here! You'll make this man leave or so help me, I'll beat you so hard you won't be able to use your freakishness ever again!" As far as Fenrir knew, that was impossible, magic didn't work that way, but Harry looked horrified, so Fenrir interjected with, "Harry, little one, I won't let him hurt you ever again." He clamped a hand down onto the man's shoulder, keeping him in place, and said, "Why don't you go wait outside? I'll be out there in one second."

But Harry didn't seem to hear him, and Fenrir could hear him whispering, "I want to be somewhere safe" over and over as he stared at his enraged uncle. Suddenly, with a sound like someone trying to suck the remnants of a drink through a straw, Harry disappeared. He didn't reappear anywhere in the house or outside, and it was Fenrir's turn to be terrified. He turned to Harry's uncle, grabbed his head, and snapped his neck, the man slumping dead on the couch with a look of disgusted disbelief frozen on his face.

Fenrir hoped that Harry had reappeared at the den, but something told him that was not the case. Leaving the body where it was, Fenrir quickly hunted through and around the house to double check for the boy, then gathered Harry's trunk and his owl's cage and left the house, headed for his den. 

Chapter Text

Harry felt a yank behind his navel, like what he'd felt when he and Cedric took the Triwizard Cup, and Number 4 Privet Drive disappeared. He found himself in an ornate tile hallway that he had never seen before, body tingling in a strange way. An intricately carved wooden door was the only interesting feature (there was a portrait of a man that looked a disturbing amount like Draco Malfoy asleep a few feet away) but Harry's tired mind dismissed it. He turned back to the door and pushed it open.

The tingle in his body that had gone away returned as soon as he touched the doorknob and stepped inside but it quickly faded. Harry found himself in a very fancy bedroom, the size of half of the Dursley's entire property, with no discernable color scheme. There were books everywhere, many with bookmarks, and a sturdy desk up against a wall. Harry felt like a zombie as he explored the room, and only realized he was crying when he bent down to tuck his bag and shoes under the desk and his glasses on top.

He didn't know how to feel about being transported to a strange home, but he had asked for somewhere safe and that was hopefully where he was. Tucked into a corner of the room was a large bed, and there was already someone asleep in it. There was definitely room for two, so Harry turned back to the desk and dug a large shirt, relatively new because Dudley had hated the pale blue color and Petunia had thrown it at Harry, out of his gym bag. He changed quickly and walked over to the bed in just his shirt and boxers. He didn't feel the need to sleep in his jeans because he didn't think the person in the bed would touch him like that.

He froze when he got a good look at the person on the bed, then decided he literally didn't care, at all, and climbed onto the bed, on top of the covers. He didn't want the man to wake up from the movement and yell at him. Harry fell asleep before he could think anything else, tired and hungry body ready to rest.

---

He rolled away from the sun he could feel on his face, hoping to fall back asleep. His eyes snapped open when his body fit almost perfectly around something on top of the covers. What.

"...Bellatrix?" He was reaching for his wand to Crucio the impertinent and obsessed woman, when he realized that, not only was the black hair too short, so was the body. Who was in his bed and why did he not wake up before now? His wards should have kept the person out, and if that failed, sent them directly to the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. He sat up to cast a charm on the person, which would keep them asleep if they were asleep (which hopefully was the case), and then tugged them towards him so he could see their face.

Lord Voldemort let out a very undignified and frankly embarrassing noise when the peaceful face of HARRY POTTER was revealed. He regained his composure in less than a second but was left looking at the boy in complete bafflement.

This should not be possible.

It was not possible. After a quick check, he determined all of the wards were still intact. They let Potter through like he was a harmless spider. Or Voldemort himself.

Voldemort cast as many revealing charms that he knew, which was a great number, before resigning himself to the fact that there was a 99.9% chance that the largest thorn in his side was currently fast asleep in his bed. He should kill the child right now.

But, on the other hand, he wanted to know why the wards did not trigger (his own or the manor's wards) and why the boy was here. Was he sent here? If so, did Dumbledore know that Voldemort was with the Malfoys? Was this really Potter? Yes, it must be, he was confident in his spellwork. But, then again, could there be an unknown potion or magic tricking him?

With one last look to Potter, Voldemort rose and began to make himself look presentable (did this child just see him in his pajamas?). He stopped moving when he heard shifting and a grumble from the bed, but it was only the Potter boy rolling over into the warm spot he left behind. He finished dressing and said, "Accio Harry Potter's Wand." A few strange noises later he noticed the items underneath his desk and retrieved the boy's wand from the inside (more like it flew out when he unzipped the bag and almost jabbed him in the eye).

Acting on impulse, he went back to the bed and pulled the thrown back covers over the child, who snuggled farther into his pillows and his bed. Voldemort sighed in irritation but allowed it.

Clapping his hands twice, he addressed the house-elf that appeared. "Bring Wormtail to me immediately. I do not care what he's doing; if he is asleep wake him." The elf nodded and vanished, and no less than 30 seconds later, he heard a yelp and then the elf reappeared. "Petter Pettigrew outsides your door, sir," she said, and he nodded in both thanks and dismissal. He walked to the door and opened it to find a bleary-eyed Wormtail sitting on the group in a heap, having obviously been taken directly from bed and dumped outside the door.

"Stand up and hold out your left arm," Voldemort demanded, and Wormtail scrabbled to obey. Containing his eyeroll, Voldemort placed his wand to Wormtails Dark Mark and thought of Severus Snape. "Dismissed," he said, and Wormtail's voice was cut off by the slam of a door in his face. He blinked a few times, then decided he ought to just go back to bed. It wasn't even 8 yet!

---

Calling once again for the house-elf, Voldemort told her, "When Severus arrives, tell him to come to my rooms at once, and inform Lucius I am in need of him now." She nodded and popped away. He rubbed his temples, trying to stave off a headache that would inevitably come. This was not how he wanted to start the day.

He sighed and returned to the bed, sitting down and contemplating his unwelcome guest. The boy had wrapped himself up in the blankets, looking very content, and Voldemort wished that he himself was still asleep. 

He only had a few minutes of time with Harry before he heard quiet tones in the hallway and then a knock on the door. Lucius must have grabbed Severus on the way. "Enter."

The door opened to reveal Lucius and a mildly irritated Severus. They both bowed upon entering and had not yet noticed the boy on the bed due to the only visible part of his body now being a few tufts of black hair.

Voldemort got to the point immediately. "Thank you for coming quickly. Lucius, was there any disturbance in the wards last night? Even for a brief moment?" The blond man kept his composure, but the twitch of his eyebrows showed his surprise and alarm. 

"No, my lord," he paused, eyes going slightly out of focus, and then came back to himself, "and there is also no sign of disturbance in the manor or the grounds. Ah, why, if you don't mind me asking? Was there a problem in the manor's security?" Lucius now looked more alarmed, understandably concerned. 

Voldemort nodded at him, ignoring his first question, then looked to Severus. "Has Dumbledore called a meeting with you and/or anyone else?" he asked. Severus stared back at him and said, "Not to my knowledge, my lord. I haven't seen him in a few days, so I'm not entirely sure what he has been up to," and then quickly added, "But I am confident that any information he deemed important would be sent to me."

So Harry Potter's appearance in his bedroom was unplanned and unknown by Dumbledore. Good. "There has been an...interesting development," Voldemort began, standing up from the bed and tugging the blankets down a bit (two startled inhales), "it seems that Potter slipped through both the manor's wards and my own without setting any alarms off and leaving no trace. He also did not wake me up when he crawled into my bed and I put him under a sleeping charm when I discovered him. I am near certain this is Potter, which is why I needed you, Severus," he said, uncaring of the irritation obvious in his voice.

He looked back to the two men and found Lucius staring with a completely blank face but an air of confusion, and Severus sneering at the boy. "Lucius, you're free to go," Voldemort said, and beckoned Severus over to the bed as Lucius nearly stomped away after a bow and a "Yes, my lord."

"Would you say that this is Potter?" Voldemort asked once Lucius left and Severus answered him distractedly. "I believe so, my lord. I'm assuming you've cast all of the necessary revealing spells, and I can't think of a potion that would stand up against them, not even Polyjuice. Is there a charmed object?" 

Voldemort made a noise of irritation and said, "Finite", to no effect. Not expecting to find anything, he pulled the covers all the way off of the boy and cast Revelio, again finding nothing. "It is him," he declared, "and now the only question is why he is here. Well, Severus, how do you propose I approach this?"

If Severus was surprised by being asked his opinion, he did not show it. "It would first depend on his mindset when he wakes. If he is calm you should be able to question him without torture. I will take the risk and caution you, my lord, to avoid tearing his mind apart if you use legilimency," he said, avoiding the narrow-eyed glance Voldemort threw his way. "Or, I do have both Calming Draughts and Veritaserum on my person. You can use either or, or both. Once Veritaserum wears off, the person that has suffered its effects usually is very upset. Just a thought."

Voldemort rolled his neck, pretending not to see Severus's wince at the joints popping, and replied, "Administer both, and then you are dismissed." The other man quickly complied, then bustled out of the room.

"Rennervate."

Time to answer some questions.

 

Chapter Text

Harry woke slowly, aware he was in Voldemort's bedroom but strangely uncaring. He felt guilty about leaving Fenrir but didn't know how to get back to or contact him. Would Voldemort allow Harry to send letters? Probably not. He didn't open his eyes yet, but he knew no one was in bed, so Voldemort knew he was here.

He made a protesting noise when, after an annoyed grunt, he was manhandled into leaning against the headboard. He opened his eyes, but everything was blurry, and he found himself squinting at the image of one of the most powerful Dark Lords to ever live. That was remedied when the man shoved his glasses onto his face (with more force than necessary if Harry did say so himself).

He looked just the same as he had in the graveyard, less maniacal though. His red eyes were boring into Harry's, so he looked away. The silence stretched on and on, but Harry didn't find himself anxious or anything. He mostly was curious about how he got here when he specifically asked for someplace safe. Right after the thought finished, Voldemort spoke.

"Why are you here, and how did you get in without triggering the wards?" he demanded. Harry got a flash of Molly Weasley standing with her hands on her hips and chastising Fred and George.

Harry's mouth opened without his permission, and he replied, "I'm here because Fenrir and I went to my house to get my things but my uncle was there and I panicked and asked to be somewhere safe. I felt like I had been portkeyed and then I was outside your door. I don't know anything about wards." His answer didn't satisfy Voldemort, and Harry was distantly horrified. Why did he say that? Voldemort didn't need to know about his life.

Voldemort smirked, privy to the boy's thoughts. "Fenrir who?" he then asked, because if it was Greyback he was going to be furious, "Why were you with him, and why were you afraid of your uncle?" Bless Veritaserum. He'd have to reward Severus.

Harry wiggled on the bed, desperately trying to keep his mouth shut. It didn't work. "Fenrir Greyback." His voice would have faltered if he hadn't been under Veritaserum because Voldemort made a truly terrifying face in reaction to his words.

"I ran away from my uncle into the forest and Fenrir found me and took me to his den," Harry reluctantly told him, and then grabbed a pillow and muffled his next words into it so Voldemort didn't hear them. A stinging hex to the hand had him yelp and drop the pillow, but Voldemort only looked amused. "Something you don't want me to know, I see?" He took a few quick steps closer to Harry and grabbed his chin to hold his head in place before diving into his mind. He was partially aware of Harry's screaming but ignored it in favor of finding the information he wanted.

When he found it, his mind recoiled so hard that he almost flung himself out of the boy's head. The one thing he refused to do or let his followers do (and tortured them to death if they did) had been done to this boy. Rape and sexual assault disgusted Voldemort, sexual abuse much too prevalent at the orphanage. The one time he was approached in that way as a child, they never found the man's body. But he remembered the sad eyes of the little boys and girls who were not powerful like he was.

He knew he shouldn't, but Voldemort watched every memory of Harry's sexual abuse, finding the memories of physical abuse and riffling through those as well. He got up to the last few encounters Harry had with his uncle and decided to be lenient with Greyback. He felt Harry's mind beginning to rebel and so pushed the memories away and removed himself from the boy's mind, leaving it only a little bit damaged. It was of no consequence; Narcissa had mind healer training.

The Calming Draught and Veritaserum had both worn off because of the legilimency, and Harry was extremely upset. Perhaps he should have listened to Severus after all, Voldemort mused as he watched the child have a veritable fit on the bed, shaking and crying from a mix of pain, fear, and pure unadulterated rage. He could feel the boy's magic fluctuating wildly, and was unsurprised when the curtains caught fire. He put them out with a small flick of the wrist, then sat on the bed and reached for the boy.

---

Harry did not appreciate his mind being ransacked. Now, he realized he had been under the influence of Veritaserum and probably a Calming Draught, and all the emotions he should have been feeling appeared. The curtains caught on fire, and he was slightly disappointed when Voldemort put them out before any real damage could be done. His head hurt, his body hurt, and he was infuriated. Who did Voldemort think he was? Thinking he could just go through somebody's memories and force them to watch as he flicks through them for his amusement.

He didn't notice in time to dodge and found himself first with a very mild burn in his scar, and then in the arms and between the legs of the Dark Lord when the man somehow got himself leaning against the headboard. The burn faded as quickly as it appeared, and Harry felt himself blush and reflexively elbowed Voldemort in the side, getting an unsatisfyingly tiny grunt and both his wrist caught up in one of Voldemorts large hands as a result.

Harry cried out, "Let me go! Let me go!", but no matter how hard he fought, Voldemort held on, and Harry likened himself to a small mammal in its death throes, about to be devoured by a snake. Unbeknownst to him, Voldemort was actually having a fairly difficult time hanging on to him and was comparing Harry to Nagini when she wanted to be put down. Impossible to hold on to and very determined. Luckily, unlike Nagini, Harry tired himself out quickly. She would get her way and try to bite you out of spite.

As Harry lay panting against his chest, Voldemort used the break to shift the boy into a more comfortable position. He released Harry's wrists and ended up with Harry fully in his lap, turned to the side. The boy's head was resting against his chest and if he wanted to force it, they could make eye contact. He had his arms tucked close to his body, obviously afraid of Voldemort limiting his movement again. 

Harry really wanted to fucking know why he was sent here by his magic. This wasn't safe at all! And what was with everyone cuddling him? He honestly just wanted Fenrir and, much to his embarrassment, found himself starting to cry again. 

As they sat there in silence only interrupted by Harry's small hiccups, Voldemort wondered about how they would look to an outsider. Dumbledore would surely have a heart attack and wasn't that just a lovely idea. He'd admit it only to himself, but he had absolutely no idea what he was doing. Crying normally irritated him, and he would never touch an enemy like this. Until today, it seems. 

He idly wondered why the boy was no longer agonized by his touch, but "don't look a gift horse in the mouth", as they say. The boy had now gone quiet, and Voldemort debated on his next move. He could return to the topic of Harry's uncle, bad idea, ask about Dumbledore, bad idea, or discuss Greyback, which was also a bad idea but to a lesser extent.

Harry tensed as soon as he started to speak, so Voldemort placed a hand on his hip and started petting the boy, for lack of a better word. It miraculously worked, so Voldemort continued what he was going to say.

"I see you and Greyback were getting along well. Do you know why he was in the forest near your home?" Harry shook his head, which Voldemort expected. Greyback likely stumbled upon the boy by chance. Voldemort hmmed and said, "Would you like me to bring him here?" which was a large offer. Harry sat unmoving for a few minutes, and he tried to reign in his impatience. Finally, the boy spoke. "Yes, but only if he wants to come. I don't want him to leave his den and everything," thinking of how Fenrir had painstakingly collected the items he saw in the den.

Harry didn't know why, but he then glanced up at Voldemort and blurted, "Why are you not torturing me?" Voldemort's unreadable face didn't change, but Harry got a sense that he was uncomfortable.

The man sighed, and replied, "Your presence in my bed was a priority. And knowing what I do now, I believe you have suffered enough." He looked at the boy and found him to be gaping up at him. "What?" He snapped, and the boy shut his mouth and cowered. Damn it. He lifted the hand he had at the boys hip to rub his temple. "Look, P-Harry. I, nor anyone else in this manor, do not plan on harming you," he suddenly realized this was probably why Dumbledore's Bond of Blood Charm was not harming the child, "and as long as you do not attempt escape, nothing unfavorable is going to happen to you," he said tiredly.

Harry watched the man holding him dubiously. "So, what you're saying to me, is that I'll remain unscathed in the hold of someone that A, hates me and B, has been trying to kill me for as long as I've been alive?" he questioned, scoffing "Yeah right." Despite his words, Harry couldn't help but feel a bit of hope. Was it possible that his magic had been right, in sending him here instead of to Fenrir's den or the Burrow? Voldemort didn't even call him Potter! That was good, right?

The man didn't say anything for long enough that Harry began doubting himself, then told him, "Yes. That is exactly what I am telling you, I give my word." Voldemort hoped the boy wouldn't fight him on this, and so quickly changed the subject and after a quick Tempus said, "I'm sure you are hungry, it's a quarter after nine." He stood and deposited Harry on his feet.

"Go, get ready. The bathroom is there. And, before you panic, I have your wand." Harry cast the man a dirty look but quickly walked to his bag and retrieved his toothbrush, almost empty toothpaste, and a change of clothing. He couldn't help slamming the bathroom door, miffed about his wand.

With nobody to see, Voldemort rolled his eyes. Teenagers. He went to the desk to pen a quick letter to Greyback (a demand for his immediate presence) and called a house elf. 

"Have this delivered to Fenrir Greyback, use any free owl. I also need you and the other elves to keep an eye on our newest guest. His name is Harry, and you are to alert me, or Lucius if I am unavailable, of any trouble. Protect him," he told the small creature, and it vanished with the letter after a squeaky "Yessir!".

Harry exited the bathroom not long after and hovered in the mild of the room awkwardly. Voldemort eyed the state of the boy's clothing in distaste but decided against saying anything. No need to get the boy all in a tizzy again. Hopefully, Lucius kept Narcissa away for a while, he didn't need her fretting about the holes in the boy's socks. Draco shouldn't be around either, so all should be well. 

Voldemort opened the bedroom door and impatiently gestured for Harry to go through when the boy didn't move. "Um, who else is here?" he inquired, stepping through the doorway cautiously. Voldemort closed it and set the wards before answering. "We are in Malfoy Manor." The boy made an interesting squawking noise at that and stopped walking. Harry remembered the portrait of the man that looked like Malfoy and leaned around to stare at it. The man was awake and sneered at him, and Harry was hard-pressed not to say something rude. "What? That's even worse! Malfoy hates my guts, and his dad probably would kill me! Do they know I'm here?" He demanded.

Voldemort turned him with a hand on his shoulder and gave him a little push to walk down the hall. "I'm aware, he would not dare, and Lucius saw you, so it is likely Narcissa and Draco are aware."

Harry grimaced and then gasped. "Wait, he didn't see me sleeping did he?" He asked, horrified. How embarrassing could this get? Voldemort smirked beside him. "Lucius and Severus saw you. I had to know how you got through all of the wards, and Severus had to confirm your identity and give me Veritaserum." Harry gave him a miserable groan in response.  

"Wait, Severus...Snape? Snape was here? That greasy little git!" Harry exclaimed. He always knew Snape was awful! But, then again, maybe Snape would let slip to Dumbledore that Harry was here.

Voldemort ignored him and walked down the stairs to the dining hall, Harry grumbling all the while. "Sit down and shut up, Harry," Voldemort finally snapped. The boy did so, glaring, but was quickly distracted by the food that appeared on the table. Harry gasped and, after a glance to Voldemort to make sure the man was getting food, started piling everything in reach onto his plate.

Voldemort was watching the boy with a mix of fascination and disgust. He himself was eating his fruit salad calmly and slowly, but Harry was wolfing down everything in sight and fast as possible. With a raised-hairless-eyebrow, he pointed out, "That's not very attractive, Harry."

The boy crammed an entire croissant in his mouth in response, then regretted it when he choked. Voldemort cackled, and when Harry could breathe again, he said, "You saw my memories, which you had no business doing by the way. My uncle wasn't the only one who hates me. I haven't eaten in a few days." That said, Harry went back to eating. Voldemort frowned but didn't say anything.

After Harry had begun slowing down, he said, "Are you quite finished? I have other things to do, and I don't have time to be babysitting you." Harry looked up and sneered.

"Fine. I'm done." He pushed his chair back from the table fairly violently and stood, grabbing the last croissant on his way to the door. He probably was going to make himself sick, but whatever. "Well? Aren't you coming?" He asked snidely, "Since you have so many important things to do today."

Voldemort counted to five then followed the boy, the table clearing as soon as he did. Once Harry saw Voldemort following him, he went back the way they came, angrily eating the stupid croissant. Halfway up the stairs, he realized that he did not want to be going back to the Dark Lord's bedroom, and turned to say so. The man obviously agreed and said, "Follow me."

He was aware of the boy behind him flicking the portrait of Abraxas' great, great, great grandfather on the way by, and rolled his eyes once again and the man's indignant noise. Looks like Harry was capable of getting on even the most unflappable person's nerves. He led the boy to a door a ways away from his own room and stopped. "Now, you are not to leave this room. Call for a house-elf if there is a problem, and it, not you, will decide if Lucius or I need to be called." He opened the door and pushed the boy inside, and closed it before he could say anything. Hopefully, Greyback would be here soon to deal with the brat.

As if his thoughts had summoned him, when Voldemort reached the bottom of the staircase, he heard a thump and low cursing from the floo and portkey room. Fenrir came out just as he was reaching the door and said, "Ah, My Lord. What am I required for? I am quite busy at the moment." Voldemort's eyes narrowed and Fenrir had a second to remember who, exactly, he was speaking to, before falling to the floor, writhing in agony from the Cruciatus Curse.

Voldemort held the curse for ten seconds, then flicked his wand and said, "Would you like to try that again?" as Fenrir struggled to his feet. 

The man winced and cleared his throat before saying, a tad resentfully, "How may I be of service, My Lord?" Better. "It has come to my attention that you have not been performing as you should be," Voldemort said coldly. Greyback stared at him blankly, and Voldemort elaborated. "Harry Potter was in your possession and you made no attempt to alert me."

"Oh. Well, My Lord, I don't actually have a way to contact you. Also, was being the operative word; I don't know where he is. Is Harry here?" Fenrir asked, then cringed.

Voldemort decided to let it be and replied, "Yes. And I was hoping you would tell me how this came to be." Something would need to be done about the communication issue, though.

As they were speaking, Voldemort was leading Fenrir to the staircase. He knew that by hoping he would tell him, Voldemort meant to tell him immediately, so Fenrir hurried to do so.

"I found him injured, by his Uncle, in the forest. I didn't know who he was at first, and he had no idea who I was, and I was unaware that Harry Potter lived nearby my den. I took him home and took care of his injuries, they should not be bothering him now, and then went to bed. Yesterday, he discovered my identity and had a bit of a fit, but it was resolved." Fenrir waited a second to see if Voldemort would comment and continued when he didn't.

"He had nothing with him, so we went to his relatives home to retrieve his things. While there, his uncle returned home and upset Harry. The last I saw of him, he was repeating 'I want to be somewhere safe' over and over, and then vanished. I was...upset, and killed his uncle, then gathered his remaining belongings and returned home. He wasn't there so I've been looking for him since." Voldemort only nodded, seeming fine with the murder of Harry's uncle, and stopped before a door.

It smelled strongly of harry up here, and Fenrir was praying that his Little One was behind the said door. Before he opened it, Voldemort got Fenrir's attention and commanded, "I'll send someone to collect those later. You will keep him in this room. Don't let him get up to anything, do you understand?" Fenrir nodded and Voldemort continued. "I will be back this evening." He opened the door and Fenrir caught sight of his boy.

Harry looked up from where he had boredly been counting and losing count of dust motes on the bed when the door opened. He hadn't expected Voldemort back so soon. Only, instead of Voldemort come to harass him, it was Fenrir. Harry gasped and jumped up, running to Fenrir. "You're here! Why are you here? Are we leaving?" He only noticed Voldemort when the man snorted. Harry blushed and stepped away from Fenrir. 

"No, you are not leaving. Fenrir, do as I said." With that, the man swept away down the hall.

Fenrir came into the bedroom and gently shut the door behind him. "Are you okay? I was so worried, Harry! Don't you ever do that again!" He growled. The boy watched him with wide eyes but calmed when he realized that Fenrir was worried, not angry at him.

Harry led Fenrir over to the bed, and they both sat on the edge. "I'm fine. He hasn't hurt me at all. I was worried too, I didn't mean to disappear, it just happened! And then I didn't know how to contact you and I woke up here, of all places," Harry said. He went on to explain the happenings of the morning, and when he finished, Fenrir laughed. 

"I'm glad you're okay, Little One, but it sounds like you sure are good at getting on everyone's nerves! No offense." Harry frowned at him but shrugged in agreement. "I guess. But Fenrir, what did he mean by 'do as I said'?" he questioned.

Fenrir thought that that did sound ominous, and was quick to say, "He was just telling me to keep you in here and that he'd be back later."

"Oh. That's what he told me! It's not like I want to go wandering around Malfoy Manor!" Well, he did want to do that, but not when the Malfoy's and Voldemort were around. Ignoring Fenrir's smirk, Harry asked something that he had been wondering all morning.

"So, what happened after I left? Did he do anything?"

"Uh, he didn't do anything. And he can't hurt you ever again."

Harry furrowed his brow and looked at Fenrir in confusion. "What do you mean? I don't see why not! How do you know he won't always be after me?" he asked worriedly.

Fenrir debated for a few minutes then decided to tell the truth, "Harry, he can't touch you if he's dead." The boy gasped and said, "Y-you killed him?" Fenrir nodded and hurried to explain. "I was upset when you vanished and he had just threatened you." 'I did it for you' went unsaid. Fenrir put an arm around Harry's shoulders and half hugged him.

Harry seemed to understand because he turned pink and shyly stated, "You did it to protect me. I get why, but I don't agree with what you did," disapproval obvious but he continued in a kinder voice, "Thank you, though. I feel a lot better knowing that he can't hurt me ever again."

Eager to change the subject, Fenrir stood and said, "Okay! So, let's do something. What's there to do in here?" Harry glared at the floor and ground out, "Absolutely nothing. I've been literally counting dust motes." Fenrir made a disgusted sound and then said, "Oh, but the Malfoy's have house elves, right? Just ask on for some entertainment."

That was a good idea, so Harry tentatively called out, "Er, Malfoy house elf?" Immediately, a house elf appeared in front of Harry, who, having not expected that to actually work, jerked backward in surprise. The elf asked him, "What can I bes doing for yous?" and Harry remembered what he was doing. "Oh, right. I'm Harry and that's Fenrir. Can you bring us something to entertain ourselves?" The house elf nodded and said, "I bes Milly," and then popped out of existence before he could thank her. In her place, there were a few books, parchment paper, and self-inking quills. 

Harry slid off of the bed and onto the floor to inspect the books. The Difference Between Shades, Dementors, and LethifoldsA History of Quidditch Through Fouls: 1870-1950, Untraceable Potions: Magical Maladies, and Mysterious Flowers of the Netherlands. Harry picked up A History of Quidditch Through Fouls, which was unnervingly large for only 80 years. "Want to learn about Quidditch fouls?" he asked Fenrir, who replied, "Only if we can sit on the bed, and not the floor." Harry was up on the bed in a flash, and impatiently patted the space beside him.

Fenrir huffed but sat next to him. "Okay, go. Tell me all about Quidditch fouls."

Harry cracked open the book and flipped around until he found an interesting one and began to read aloud. 

"Okay, so in 1878, Beaters Frederik Sidney and Gilbert "Bertie" Walt, of the Welsh Caerphilly Catapults, in play against the Northern Ireland Ballycastle Bats, lost the game for their team through a daring stunt that caused the inadvertent death of chaser Ailbe McGlone. Sidney and Walt caught McGlone by her arms and, despite her struggles, managed to toss her through the tallest goal post, hitting keeper Cillian Abbott in the process, and sent her flying into the stands at 122 kilometers per hour..."