Starcrossed Fate

-CHAPTER TWO: Dawn of the Werewolf-

Harry’s head pounded with a rush of blood that roared in his ears, he groaned woozily and squeezed his already shut eyes tighter closed. His entire body was aching and his bones burned as though they were on fire. What was wrong with him? Harry groaned softly and took a steadying breath, his hands reflexively bunched handfuls of his covers and he inhaled the sweet, fresh scent of clean linen.

His headache diminished somewhat and the boy continued to breathe deeply, calming his hurting body with each inhalation. Slowly and carefully Harry opened his eyes, surprised to find himself in his room, the curtains pulled closed and the lamp on his bedside table casting its orange hues across the bedroom walls. With a quick intake of air Harry’s memories flooded into awareness and he sat up straight in his bed, the covers bunching at his waist. With out thought the boy pulled back the blankets and checked his throbbing leg, expecting to see a bullet wound embedded in his flesh, instead there was a large gash just below his left knee, it had been cleaned, showing the torn skin around the wound. Harry’s blood clotted thickly over the slash and was dark crimson. He hadn’t been shot!

“Was I bitten?” the boy mused out loud and touched his fingertips to the angry looking scab, it smarted and he hissed a breath through his teeth. Deciding not to self-torture himself Harry left the injury alone and stretched his back, hearing a satisfying crack that immediately made him feel more awake. He was relieved that he was in the safety of his room and not in some dark street facing down a wolf however the stirrings of unease held tight to his lungs and Harry wondered frantically if everyone else was alright – if Ron was still alive.

Swinging his legs out of bed Harry stood, ignoring the sharp pain that bit at his injured leg, he had more pressing matters to deal with. The boy hastily stumbled to the door, his jeans unraveling at the legs to fall passed his knees, Harry frowned at the tear in the left leg – these were his favourite pair of pants.

Panting from the strain to get down the stairs Harry stopped midway and gripped the railing tightly, his knuckles turning white. His leg was being a bitch and with every step his muscle tightened and cramped on him, causing the boy to writhe in pain. His laboured breathing caught in his chest when he heard the swell of voices from the kitchen, eyes wide and palms sweaty, Harry clambered down the remaining stairs as stealthily as possible.

The wooden door was thin enough for Harry to hear passed and the boy pressed his ear up to the surface, holding his breath and listening carefully. He wasn’t quite sure why he was eavesdropping; perhaps it was the secretive murmur of the voices behind the door, or the occasional chair being roughly pushed back across the tiled floor.

“– can’t be sure, Lily.” His father was saying, his voice rumbling deeply as the man kept his sound down; Harry pressed his slight body closer. The unmistakable noise of a coffee cup hitting the table top caught Harry’s ears and then his mother spoke up.

“Might be best…just to be certain, we don’t know for sure.” Harry’s dark brows furrowed deeply, try as he might he couldn’t hear every single word said. His mother’s voice in particular was difficult to catch for it was light and hushed.

A chair being adjusted and scrapped across the ground made Harry freeze, hoping they weren’t coming his way. “We’ll have to keep an eye on him, Lily – don’t want to panic…may have just been a wolf.”

“Of course it was a bloody wolf,” Harry mouthed noiselessly, “it wasn’t a big dog!”

“– should take him to the hospital, James. You know who it was.”

Who what was?

“Not tonight, let him rest…check him out tomorrow and see what I can do.”

Suddenly the scrapping sound of chairs and identical sighs sounded and Harry scampered away from the door, hobbling unsteadily on his feet and hoping to put some distance between the door and himself. The kitchen door swung open on its hinges and Harry turned as casually as he could to regard his parents. His mother’s face looked shocked for a fraction of a second before splitting into a huge smile, one that made Harry’s heart swell and burst with contentment.

“Harry, sweetie, I thought you’d still be asleep. How are you feeling?” Lily asked gently and took hold of Harry’s wrists, her thumbs soothing comforting patterns over his skin. His father nodded and gave Harry a lopsided grin, however, his hazel eyes gave away the concern he so nonchalantly pushed aside. Harry shrugged. Truth be told he felt like crap.

Frowning his mother tugged him toward the kitchen, “how about some tea to settle your nerves?” she offered and didn’t wait for a reply before getting to work boiling the jug, Harry slumped down at the table. From the doorway Harry noticed his father staring intently at him, feeling rather self-conscious under the unwavering gaze Harry scratched at the back of his neck and coughed. James dropped his eyes and watched his wife busy herself.

The room was thick with tension and Harry couldn’t place why that was. His throat bubbled with the many questions he wanted to pose, but he kept silent and fiddled with the edge of the table, watching his bitten nail pick at the polished wood. “Don’t scratch at the table, Harry,” chided Lily quietly and placed down his cup of tea, the warm liquid steamed and smelt sweet and sugary. “Drink up, bubby.” Harry flicked his eyes to his father and watched a crooked, half smile tug the man’s lips upwards at the pet name.

Taking one long, scalding gulp from the cup Harry swallowed and was thankful for the hot trail the liquid left down his throat, it warmed him and he felt calmer. “What happened to, Ron?” he asked suddenly, catching his parent’s off guard. Lily swallowed her sip of her own tea but James bet her to the answer.

“Just a nasty bite to his arm, Molly and Arthur took him to the hospital.” His father looked uncomfortable and Harry’s stomach twisted itself into a ball, he let out a whoosh of air through his nose. Poor Ron, he was the only one who had the guts to stand up to the wolf.

Taking another large mouthful of his tea Harry steadied his thoughts, “And everyone else? They got away okay, right?” he was aware of how young and afraid he sounded and winced inwardly. He was seventeen; he shouldn’t sound like a frightened seven year old. His mother reached across the small table and grasped his hand in her own.

“Everyone else is alright, bubby. A bit shaken up, but that is expected.” The swirling feeling of dread loosened in his chest and he felt better, his mother’s calm gaze and warm touch helped also. “You should get some sleep, it’s late.”

Harry nodded his agreement, only realizing how sleepy he was feeling, “I got bitten.” It wasn’t a question, moreover a statement and his mother nodded, her eyes sad, lines appeared around her frowning lips and she adverted her stare. Harry was confused at her reaction. Surely a bite wasn’t so bad. It hurt like hell, but it wasn’t like he had been mangled or killed.

“Bed time, champ.” His father said firmly and helped Harry to his feet, ignoring the boy’s protest about his half full tea cup.

-

“Alright, lift you leg up, mate.” Harry sighed for the umpteenth time that morning and lifted his leg so that his father could get a better view at the bite mark. James had insisted Harry wake up early the next morning and got to disinfecting the wound with alcohol, which to Harry’s annoyance burnt like fire. He now sat sprawled out on the sofa, his legs resting over his father’s lap. The bright morning light shone in through the large living room windows, warming Harry’s skin nicely and making his sleepy. Only the sharp pain of his leg kept him from falling asleep.

His father swiped at the scabbed over gash with a wet piece of paper towel, Harry hissed in warning and his leg flinched. “Sorry, mate. Almost done.” Promised his father and dug the towel into the wound once more, cleaning away any dirt left.

Harry gritted his teeth, “you already washed it with alcohol, why do you need to do that!” Harry’s voice jumped up a few octaves and the older man gave a chuckle, patting his son’s leg in apology. He then bunched up the wet towel and pushed the boy’s legs off his lap.

“If it’s not clean it could get infected, Harry. I’m just making sure that doesn’t happen.” He explained calmly, despite this being the fifth time he had said the exact same sentence to the boy. Harry grumbled something under his breath and relaxed back onto the cushions. His mother had attempted to get his father to take him to the hospital, however, after a brief, whispered conversation the pair had decided against it. Harry hadn’t spotted his mum since she had wondered off to clean up the garden – apparently having twenty odd people all rushing away from a wolf makes quite a mess. Harry was in half a mind to go help her, but the late morning sun was too warm and he closed his eyes sleepily.

“You tired, Harry?” Harry lazily opened his eyes and peered up at his father through his fringe, James’ eyes were pinched, he looked wary. Harry shook his head and the fraught expression cleared from his fathers face. “Good, lad.” Harry smiled at the rough tone, wondering why his father had been so on edge this morning. Perhaps he was just uneasy about last night. Harry still was.

The shrill jingle of his mobile startled Harry and he rolled sleepily off the couch and on to the ground, crawling over to the coffee table he grab the vibrating silver object and flipped it open, the blue light was bright to his eyes even in the daylight. “Hullo?” he answered.

“Harry, mate? It’s Ron, how are you?” Harry was awake instantaneously and a big smile stretched his lips, Ron must be much better if he was making phone calls.

“I’m okay, how about you? Dad said you took a pretty nasty bite.” ‘Pretty nasty’ was an understatement, Harry had seen the amount of blood staining the wolfs’ mouth and chin, Ron was a lucky son of a bitch.

A small chuckle came from the redhead’s end, “yeah, it was sick as. Got down to my bone, you should have seen it!” Harry’s tummy did flips of unease and he scowled, he didn’t think he’d like to have seen it.

“All good now?” he asked as casually as possible, he didn’t want to seem too soft in front of Ron, even though he doubted the boy would mind much. The line was silent for a moment and then Ron’s voice mumbled something, clearly to someone at his end.

“Sorry, Ginny’s being a prick, keeps talking to me, and yeah all good now mate.”

“Your families there? You should be talking to them, not me.” Harry said lightly and Ron made a grunting noise, Harry pushed off the floor and back onto the sofa watching out of the windows, he could see his mother digging around in the garden, obviously she had finished cleaning up.

“They have been here all morning.” Ron groaned, “I need someone sane to talk to,” the smile in his tone was evident and Harry gave a chortle. “What happened to the wolf? I was out cold not long after being bitten.”

Harry frowned, he hadn’t actually thought to ask what had become of the wolf, and he had presumed his father had shot it. “I’m not sure what happened to it. It chased me and Cho a fair way though and the dad came to help – think he shot it.” Harry finished uncertainly, Ron whistled lowly.

“It chased you? Fuck, that must have been barmy.”

“It wasn’t fun – that’s for sure. I can’t believe there was a wolf.” Harry said and relaxed back into the sofa, his eyes lazily following his mother’s movements as she gardened.

“Middleton is surrounded by forest and hills, Harry; it’s kind of not unusual for there to be animals.” Ron stated.

Harry rolled his eyes, “I know that, Ron. But a wolf? Isn’t that kind of odd, even if there are forests?”

The redhead snorted and laughed quietly, “Might have been a werewolf, it was a full moon last night.” He joked and then snorted again; Harry couldn’t help grinning at Ron’s odd laugh. However, the tight sensation in his stomach that had lingered ever since last night roiled and Harry found himself shivering.

“I’ve got to go, mate. Talk soon, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry responded before the line when dead. He heaved a breath and arched his back in a stretch, entertaining the idea of the wolf actually being a werewolf – it was absurd of course, werewolves didn’t exist. The image of the large wolf flashed in Harry’s mind and simultaneously his injury gave a sharp ache, Harry gasped and bit his bottom lip.

-

The flashing lights from the television were interrupting Harry’s reading; thankfully his mum had taken pity on him and had the volume down low. Harry flipped through his book, reading quickly and basking in the feeling of being full with a vegetable casserole his mother had made for dinner – much to his fathers disappointment. The news man was talking seriously about something or another and Harry wouldn’t have paid much attention if his mother hadn’t clicked the volume up louder.

“– Reports today that a young child, whose name is withheld by the families wishes, was tragically killed in a horrendous attack that saw the young girls throat ripped out by a ‘big dog’.” The reported paused after finishing his sentence and James took the pause to speak, however, Lily cut him off.

“Fenrir…”

Harry looked confusedly at his mother who had gone ashen, her hands covering her gaping mouth. Harry sat up straighter in his chair.

“Who’s Fenrir?” he asked inquisitively and peered at his mother through his wayward bangs. She didn’t look his way, but continued to stare at the television screen. The blue glow from the news show making her face look ghostly.

“Lily, why don’t we change the channel?” James commented firmly and sent a look that Harry couldn’t decipher towards the pale woman. Fumbling with the remote Lily switched the channel to some uninteresting game show, Harry’s attention diminished and he buried his nose in his book once more, missing the meaningful look his parent’s shared.

When silence, save for the hum of the television, reined Harry looked up, put out to see both his parent’s sitting stiffly on the sofa. “What’s the matter?” he asked and they snapped their attention toward Harry, both plastering on fake smiles that Harry saw right through.

“Nothing, sweetie, just a little disturbed about the were – uh, the dog attack, is all.” Harry frowned towards his mum and she gave a tight laugh, “nothing to bother about, bubby.” She said and his dad nodded his agreement.

Harry flashed a small smile and pretended to be satisfied. He was anything but. It wasn’t often his parent’s took a news story to heart, sure they would frown about it and discuss things over coffee in the mornings but never had he seen his mum so putout. Something was off and Harry intended to figure it out. His mum and dad had been acting strangely ever since Harry had been bitten. Did they think him weak for being attack by a wolf?

A sharp rap at the front door startled the three of them and they jerked to attention in unison. Harry jumped to his feet and jogged to open the front door, anything to get away from the odd atmosphere of the living room. When he pulled the door open he was shocked into a hitched breath that caught somewhere between his chest and throat, it hurt, but Harry daren’t take his eyes away from the imposing sight before him. A large, burly man stood on the door step, his broad shoulders draped in a leather jacket that was worn and old. Long, shaggy black hair fell to the man’s elbows and Harry nibbled on his lip when dark, coal eyes locked with his.

The man smiled and Harry noticed the slow leer revealed a set of dirty teeth. For a long moment neither one of them said a word, the silence stretching thickly between them. Then Harry heard his mother call out and his breath escaped his lips with a gush.

“Harry, who is it?” She came around the corner and stopped dead in her tracks, something told Harry it wasn’t the man’s overwhelming stature that had caused her reaction. The man inclined his head stiffly towards Lily and Harry watched in awe as she did the same in reply. “Wolfe.” She sniffed disdainfully. It was such a different side of his mother it astounded Harry and he didn’t realize that his father had entered the parlor.

“A pleasure as always, Evans.” The man made it sound like anything but a pleasure. Harry took a step backwards towards his mother, feeling like a frightened child hiding from a stranger.

His mother scowled openly, “it’s Potter now, we married.” A dark gaze swept over Harry and the boy shivered under the scrutiny. It felt like he was bare, naked in front of the man. He dropped his eyes and studied his feet carefully. Not sure why he was acting like a child. He was seventeen damn it.

“Wedlock?” he mocked and made it sound like a trap, Harry narrowed his eyes; he took an instant disliking to the man.

James stepped forward and wrapped a protective arm around Lily’s waist, cupping her hip strongly. “What do you want, Wolfe?” he asked and Harry swallowed hard at the deep, harsh sound of his dad’s voice. He wasn’t use to seeing either of his parent’s so tense. It unnerved him.

The large man chuckled and crossed his arms across his thick chest, “just thought I’d come get a glimpse of my pup.” He drawled slowly. Lily stepped forward and raised her finger as if in warning, her lips open ready to spew forth a reprimand, James’ stopped her and flicked his gaze to watch Harry, something in his father’s eyes made Harry’s tummy drop. The man looked afraid of him and Harry hated seeing such an emotion on his dad’s face.

“Calm yourself, Lily. Wolfe, I’m asking you to leave immediately. If you do not I will call the police.” Harry’s head hurt; apparently he was the only one who didn’t know what was happening. He hated it.

“I doubt they could do much against me.” Wolfe said cockily and looked down his nose at Harry, watching the small boy before him glare and stare right back. “I’ll see you again, pup.” He said to Harry and then turned to leave. The door closed with a bang that brought Harry into speech.

“Who was –?”

“Go to your room, Harry.” Harry looked incredulously at his father. What?

He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, uncertain, “but, I want to –”

“Now Harry!” The fierce gleam in the hazel eyes was enough to put the boy on edge and he sulkily took to the stairs, making sure to thump up each step heavily so as to show his parent’s he wasn’t a happy boy. Before reaching the top he caught wind of his mother speaking quietly.

“– he will come back…been confirmed, we have to act quickly…”

Act quickly about what? And what had been confirmed? Harry’s irritation burned and he sighed, slamming his bedroom door shut with force before flopping onto his bed.

He hated his life sometimes.