Twisted

Chapter Five: Painful Introductions

Draco looked up from the stack of newspapers in front of him as the door to the bar opened with a soft chime. It was just a muggle couple. He let his eyebrows gather above the bridge of his nose. It was probably normal to be suspicious after all that had happened to him, but it was still slightly annoying to jump at every noise. He had thought he would feel better sitting in the back corner where he could see everything and nothing could sneak up behind him. It had done very little to allay his paranoia.

With a sigh that was half growl, Draco drew his gaze back to the front of an old Daily Prophet. The headline left little to the imagination: “BOY WHO LIVED—SAVIOR OR DERANGED MADMAN?”

Draco recognized the first picture. It had been the one that appeared during the Tri-Wizard Tournament in fourth year. In it Harry Potter smiled nervously at the camera, shifting slightly as if unaware of what was going on. The photograph beside it was a jarring contrast. Dumbledore’s Golden Boy was snarling and wildly fighting the two ministry wizards trying to restrain him. He was covered in dirt and other dark stains. The worst was his eyes; they made a shiver tremble at the base of his spine. When Draco had first seen it in Robards’ office, he hadn’t even recognized the other wizard. There was nothing left of the boy that had saved him from Fiendfyre.

He set that paper aside and picked another at random—they had all been provided by Robards “to help him get to know the target.” Draco had snickered at first. What didn’t he know about St. Potter? It wasn’t too long before he realized the truth, however.

This one was dated a few weeks later. The picture left a bitter taste in Draco’s mouth. He had always hated Potter, but seeing him like that, the vacant expression and the drool that glistened on his lips, made him want to spew. The article was an interview with a healer from St. Mungo’s. They blathered on and on about the progress they had made through the use of several newly developed potions. Yeah, his violent nature was under control; he looked practically catatonic.

…………………………….

“Don’t be fooled,” Robards had said, his smile revealing large flat teeth that were disgustingly dirty. At least Draco had an excuse for being unwashed—Azkaban did not offer many facilities. “Mr. Potter is kept debilitated, but several of the staff have reported…incidents. Very violent outbursts. A number of Healers have been severely injured.”

Robards had smiled as if he found the whole thing intensely amusing.

“Apparently, when Mr. Potter murdered He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the act had an effect on his magical core…well, the Healers have a rambling string of mumbo-jumbo to explain it all,” the Head of the Auror Department said, rolling his hand in the air as if impatient. “But the fact is that his accidental magic is unpredictable, with a certain knack for blowing things up.” Another smile. Draco had a nagging feeling that he knew how some of the Healers had been “injured.”

He swallowed. Gawain Robards left him uncomfortable, and he couldn’t see how a man like this could have been put into such a high-ranking position in the Ministry. He looked more like a Death Eater. Instinctively, Draco’s eyes flashed to Robards’ forearm, but, of course, it was hidden by the black Ministry robes. Robards noticed and his horrible grin grew larger.

“You should understand that Mr. Potter is no longer your schoolmate or even your rival; he is your target. If you succeed in bringing him back to us, you and your family will be released from Azkaban and all prior acts and charges will be stricken from Ministry records,” Robards explained, his face shining with an odd kind of enthusiasm—or it could have been his oily complexion.

“I’ve already taken the liberty of creating a portkey. Our…intelligence found someone matching his description in America.”

“America?” How had he gotten over there?

“St. Louis to be exact, a hot bed of preternatural activity. You’ll find that Americans are far more open about magic than here, but under no circumstances are you to advertise about the wizarding world. Not many know of it, even in America. You see why we can’t have Potter over there just waiting to expose us?” He stared at Draco, penetrating him with muddy gray eyes. “Anyone you ask questions of, anyone who knows anything, anyone who has even seen him—I want you to modify their memories, understood?”

“I—yes,” Draco nodded. The mission seemed daunting, but to be out of Azkaban…

“Good, I am glad we could come to an agreement Mr. Malfoy,” the insane smile was back. “Before you go, I have a present.”

“What?” Draco jerked, shoulders tensing. He knew that tone; it meant he wouldn’t like what was coming. He had heard it too many times from the Dark Lord.

“A present,” Robards repeated, raising his wand…

…………………………..

Unconsciously, Draco scratched at his chest and shivered when he felt an angry buzz answer his fingertips. It made him rather nauseated to feel the strange lump underneath his skin and sometimes it moved.

“Hey, you were the one that wanted some information, right?” Draco looked up casually, shuffling the Daily Prophets under some motionless muggle papers.

“Indeed,” he said, lifting a hand to indicate that the larger man should sit. He did not.

“I don’t say anything unless I know that you’re gonna make this worth my while.” The man’s cigarette dropped ash into the tray he was clutching like a permanent appendage.

Draco let a sneer touch his lips before waving a ridiculous amount of muggle money before the large man’s face. He watched how those black eyes followed it and a greedy grin spread the thick lips.

“Now you have my undivided attention,” the man said and sat down. “You can call me Luther.”

Draco laid the money on the table and sneered again. “I heard that there was a disturbance here the other night involving a boy.”

Thick eyebrows rose as the end of the cigarette flared. “I knew the paper mentioned a disturbance, but it didn’t say nothing about a kid.”

The wizard narrowed his eyes. “But you are willing to enlighten me on the fact, aren’t you, Luther?”

The big man pushed the money back towards Draco. “Sorry, but the Master of the City’s put out a ban on that kind of information. Dave said not to say anything or he’d roll me.”

Draco narrowed his eyes and pulled out his wand smoothly. Before the man even had time to blink he was already saying the curse, “Imperio!”

The wizard watched as his eyes went blank and the muggle sat quietly. He peered around the bar, but the few people who were actually there so early in the afternoon weren’t paying the two in the back any attention. “You will truthfully tell me the events that took place two nights ago. You will omit nothing. You will change nothing. You will focus on your interactions with a boy. He has black hair and green eyes. His name is Harry Potter. You will begin.”

“Quiet night. The boy came in and ordered a hamburger. Bloody rare, it hardly even touched the grill. I thought it was odd. He was really skinny and dirty. Looked homeless, but he paid for the food. I asked him questions because he looked so young. He claimed to be eighteen and from England.” The muggle stopped, a small line forming above his brows. He was fighting.

“Continue,” Draco commanded, keeping his wand trained on the man, just in case.

“Went dark. Cold. Horrible feeling. Kid pulled out a stick and shouted words. Silver light appeared. The lights came back. I was about to attack him because he sounded like the thing that had been at The Circus and attacked Anita Blake. He disappeared.” The man stopped.

“What happened at this circus? Where is it located? Answer the questions.”

“Anita Blake and two others were attacked by an unknown lycanthrope with strange powers.” Lycanthrope? That did not sound promising. “He also disappeared and no one saw what was going on, even though there was evidence left at the scene. I called Anita because the Master of the City wanted all information for suspicious newcomers.

The Circus is located in the Blood District, not too far from here.”

“Who is Anita Blake? Answer.” It was suspect that he had heard the name twice. Draco would have to track down this muggle, too.

“Anita Blake is an animator. She works at Animator’s, Inc. She is a vampire hunter and Federal Marshall. She is known as The Executioner. Anita Blake is the Master of the City’s girlfriend. She has ties to almost all of the preternatural communities in St. Louis. She is a known accomplice of Death.”

It was an impressive resume. Accomplice of death?—what was that supposed to mean?

Draco sighed as he realized how hard it would be to get to her. He narrowed his eyes. It would be bad if this person were also looking for Potter. If she managed to capture the wizard, odds of which were slim, she would undoubtedly notice the magic he used against her. If he blew her up, as Robards suggested he would, then it sounded as if a lot of people would be pissed off.

Draco put his hands to his temples, a very serious headache beginning to form. He just barely noticed the muggle beginning to stir. In a deliberate motion Draco murmured, “Obliviate!”

He removed his entire presence from the large muggle’s mind along with the events of the other night. He then gathered the newspapers and exited the bar. He glanced at his watch, the hands having already adjusted to the change in time. It was a little after four. He decided to head to this circus before searching for Anita Blake.

“What a bloody mess, Potter,” Draco grumbled under his breath.

…………………………….

Harry was sitting unwillingly on the sofa, freshly scrubbed and clothed, even though the jeans and shirt were still too big. He had no hope for shoes.

They wanted him to revive the two weres, which he had no problem with, but time was of the essence. He also didn’t like this icy compulsion he had to do whatever the dark-haired vampire said. It made his hackles rise.

He had lived so recently being stronger than everyone. Someone with power over him rankled just a bit. He glared irritably at said vampire before holding his fingers in front of one of the weres, the one with salt and pepper hair.

-Ennervate!-

The rat immediately blinked and sat up, pulling a rather impressive gun on Harry. He felt his anger pique—I’m really tired of having those shoved in my face, he thought, snarl already forming. His shoulders began to stiffen and his back pop. The full moon wasn’t that far away…

“Bobby Lee, that will be all,” the vampire said, blue eyes blazing. Just as grudgingly as Harry had revived him, the were put away the gun. It was a few minutes before the wizard was in the frame of mind to revive the other. Bobby Lee watched suspiciously, looming closely, and the boy could feel the man’s presence pressing on him like a wave of heat.

“Back off,” he growled, barely recognizing his own voice it was so guttural. His back itched and he had the oddest feeling inside of him. It was excited and angry. It wanted to rip the man apart and roll in his entrails. The thought brought a delighted smile to the boy’s face and made his heart start to pound. He trembled with its deliciousness.

“Bobby Lee!” This time it was the woman who said it.

He felt the presence step back. It wasn’t far enough, but Harry figured it would have to do. Merlin, his teeth ached.

He actually had to say the spell to concentrate, “Ennervate!”

The woman had a similar reaction to that of the man, but instead of pulling a gun she stood and took a guarded position, ready to fight. Harry could feel his beast rising and he closed his eyes. He shivered as he felt fur rubbing inside him…so close—

“Now is not the time, mon chiot,” the voice was cold, like a bucket of icy water. His beast shrank away and Harry trembled in its absence. He realized the vampire’s cool fingers were wrapped around the back of his neck. He liked the feeling too much; with a jerk he pulled away and crouched on the other side of the low table.

They all watched him as he slowly stood and glared right back. People were so annoying; why couldn’t anyone leave him alone? That was all he wanted. He needed to look for the wand, but he had no idea how to get out of this place, and he didn’t trust his ability to apparate so close to the full moon.

Damn!

“You found me. I’m grateful,” he forced the words out. “But I need to leave now; I have things to do.”

The woman narrowed her eyes speculatively. The challenge was still there. Hadn’t he scared it out of her already? “No one is stopping you, why don’t you just disappear like before?”

Harry’s heart began to pound for different reasons as he glanced at her. It wouldn’t be good if they found out just how unpredictable his magic could be. They had to be afraid so that they would leave him alone. Should he disembowel someone to put the point across?

The thought flitted through his mind before he had a chance to stop it. He shook his head angrily as if trying to throw it out. Where did they come from?

“He can’t leave,” the Ulfric said angrily to the woman. Harry’s gaze shot to him. “We’re taking him to the Lupanar tonight. We’ve already discussed this.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Harry spat.

“Of course you must go, monsieur,” the vampire said with smile. Harry couldn’t read his expression but it had an air of command. The wizard felt the metaphysical shackles tighten. How did he get tied to these people? He was so tired of it.

“Don’t worry,” Jason said, coming out of the bathroom. He must have heard the conversation through the door, but that wasn’t so surprising, he was a were after all. Almost imperceptibly, Harry relaxed. This wasn’t unnoticed by Jean-Claude, who arched an eyebrow. The wizard didn’t see it, however. His eyes were following Jason as the were came to stand beside him.

“It’s great; you’ll meet the whole pack. It’s totally different when we’re all together—orgasmic,” he winked, and Harry felt heat rise to his face before he looked away, embarrassed.

“Then I definitely don’t want to go,” he muttered, trying to hide behind his hair.

………………………..

How did I agree to this? Harry thought as he crawled out of Anita’ s Jeep, Jason behind him. But all of his agitation immediately left him when the moonlight touched his skin.

“Bloody hell,” he whispered. It felt so different from normal. The call was always sweet when the moon was full, but this…this was not only the moon, something from the woods was reaching out to him. Harry slid his gaze to the trees, practically intoxicated with the magic coming from them.

He started walking.

“Ah, mon chiot, you must wait,” only the vampire’s—Jean-Claude’s—voice could have arrested him at that moment. Harry stopped dead and growled under his breath. Why had the vampire come with them? He had a sneaky suspicion that it had to do with him.

It seemed that Harry had gotten himself another handler, his own personal leash. Well, he thought, at least this one is better to look at than the old git. The thought made him burst out into laughter.

But what does this one want? Harry sobered and glanced back at the group behind him. They were whispering softly enough for him not to hear.

The wizard knew better than to expect anything for free. These people, why were they bothering with him?

As if the vampire heard his thoughts, Jean-Claude looked up from the conversation, his blue eyes burning into Harry’s. The boy was so engrossed that he didn’t notice the trio step out of the woods behind him.

“Are you ready, Harry?” a commanding voice asked.

The boy spun, hunching, while his hair stood on end. He didn’t like surprises. The awful pressure in his chest attested to that.

The Ulfric stood there, amber eyes glowing in the darkness. Power surrounded him, fed by the forest and the two men standing at his sides. Harry’s eyes slid over them, tasting their beasts, watching their tense muscles ready to attack.

Very slowly, Harry straightened and some of the hostility left the atmosphere.

“I am aware that you have never been embraced by a pack before, Harry,” Richard said.

The boy nodded, his gaze never leaving the Ulfric’s.

“Tonight I am going to introduce you to the members of the pack; you will have to greet them. Do you understand?” Harry blinked. The way Richard said it entailed the “behave” command, but there was something else. He let his brows furrow.

“Like shake hands?” he muttered, shifting awkwardly. His palms were starting to sweat. He didn’t touch people often; in fact, the vampire’s embrace earlier had been his first since…before the battle.

“It’s a little different.” Harry jumped. He hadn’t realized that Jason was standing beside him.

“Show him, Jason,” Richard said. “Then you can greet Jamil and Shang-Da. We’ll save my greeting for the actual event.”

“What…” Harry didn’t get out much else before there were hands on his shoulders, turning him to face the blue-eyed were. He jerked when their cheeks touched and a nose was thrust behind his ear. It made his stomach do a painful kind of throb. He had viciously shoved Jason away before he realized it, panting.

He rubbed his neck where he had felt the brush of skin. It itched oddly. Was it because it was a vulnerable point? Was he afraid Jason would try to bite him?

“Don’t get near my throat,” Harry growled, fingertips covering the heavy ridges of scars. He could still remember ghostly jaws clamping down into his flesh. He could feel the claws digging into his belly. He remembered the helpless feeling welling inside, not being able to get away as Fenrir Greyback tried to kill him. But he had cursed the wolf into oblivion.

It was pathetic that he couldn’t let go of the memory.

“I—I’m sorry,” he bit out, shoving his hand down. He held it out to where Jason was still sitting on the ground. The were took his hand, but kept his head down. What was this?

“You’re dominant over him,” the dark-skinned were said, as if making an observation. Harry glanced at him, but his face was as emotionless as the other’s on Richard’s left. The Ulfric waited a moment before speaking.

“That is how we greet, to take each other’s scent. Were you angry because he touched you?”

Harry shook his head, and had to shove his hands in his pockets to keep them from going up to the scars again.

“That’s where you were attacked right?” The boy blinked as Jason spoke. “I saw the scars when you were bathing…I noticed that you had a lot. More than Anita. I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“Comes with the trade,” Harry muttered, embarrassed. Someone was bound to rack them up when they faced an evil killer since they were a baby, right? “But, yeah.”

“Try again. Don’t worry, no one is going to attack you tonight,” the Ulfric said, but the “unless you start something” was there still.

Harry braced himself as Jason stepped forward. This time, though, he hunched lower, and kept his face next to Harry’s, away from the scars. He put his nose behind the boy’s ear again and took a deep breath.

“You too,” Jason whispered.

The wizard slid his cheek along the were’s and let his nose bury in the blond hair. He breathed deeply, taking in the musky scent. It felt right to do this. It was Jason who pulled back. But it surprised Harry when another mouth brushed his. Had he felt a tongue swipe his lip?

It hadn’t felt romantic, Harry decided hurriedly, even though his body had tensed. It was more like…

“He was telling you he was submissive, that’s how you will greet us tonight,” Richard said.

Harry’s beast didn’t like that one bit. “And if I don’t think you’re stronger than me?” he whispered.

“You will make it difficult if you want to challenge my enforcers and myself. Do you really want to be Ulfric?”

Both of the men looked askance at their Ulfric and then at Harry. He could feel the tension building again.

The wizard sneered. “I’ve quite had enough of people looking to me for answers, thank you.” That was the last thing Harry needed. “So who’s first?”

“You will greet Shang-Da, Jamil, then Sylvie. Then myself. Unless you want to challenge them for position, just do as Jason did.” Richard didn’t seem to have caught Harry’s first comment.

Harry sighed. This all seemed very complicated. Why was he even here at all? He didn’t want any position in this were’s pack. He wanted to get through the full moon and find the Elder Wand before something bad happened. As he stepped toward the paler of the weres, Harry had an ominous feeling turn in his gut.

Shang-Da was quite a bit taller than Harry, actually, every one was except for Jason and Anita. What was he supposed to do, rub his head against the man’s chest? The thought wasn’t too appealing.

It was an awkward minute before the enforcer leaned forward, giving access to neck. He smelled crisper than Jason, and wasn’t nearly as friendly. It was uncomfortable smelling the man as he stood so stiffly. Harry had trouble forcing himself to the man’s lips, and he barely darted his tongue out before jerking back. He didn’t like this submissive thing. It made him agitated on the inside, like his guts were bunching in a rage.

Would he have to do this every time he saw them?

“Jamil,” Richard said, pointing Harry to the other enforcer.

It took more will power to keep his eyes away from this man, who was, impossibly, taller. He wanted to stare him down. To assert his will over someone. Harry held his breath, trying to push the instinct away.

When Jamil bent his head down, his braids fell forward, disturbing the air and sending his scent into Harry’s nostrils. It was wilder than the other enforcer’s and muskier than Jason’s. He scarcely let his lips brush the corner of the man’s mouth before backing away.

“Very good, mon chiot,” Jean-Claude called. Harry realized that the others had gathered around him, including a group of weres. Harry blinked, they smelled different than the wolves…feline.

He noticed Jason talking to one with long hair. The hair gave Harry a pause. It went all the way to the man’s knees. What did someone do with hair that long? The feline were noticed Harry looking at him and gave the smaller boy a gentle smile.

Huh?

“Yeah, that’s the guy who melted Anita’s gun,” Jason stage-whispered. “Hard to imagine such a shrimp being so powerful, huh?”

“Hey!” Harry grunted, slightly offended.

“Ugh, can we please just get this over with?”

“Ma petite, are you so eager for the night’s festivities?” Harry knew the words were innocent, but Jean-Claude’s voice gave them a vicious amount of innuendo.

“Jean-Claude, I haven’t slept in over thirty hours. Don’t mess with me.”

“But I love to ‘mess with you’, ma petite,” the vampire said, smiling innocently.

Harry felt Richard tensing behind him. “Let’s go,” he growled before spinning towards the woods.

“I suppose we’ll save introductions to the pard for later,” Anita huffed before hiking into the forest after the Ulfric and his enforcers. The strange group of people followed her. Harry could feel how their magic was connected. Anita wasn’t a wereleopard, was she? No. She didn’t smell right for that.

“Come on, it’ll be better after you shift, promise,” Jason said, clapping Harry on the back before heading after them. Harry had to agree with Anita. He just wanted this to be over with.