Ashen Knights

Part: V

Harry jerked awake, the unexpected sound disturbing his sleep. He shot to his feet and turned to face the intruder. His instincts clamored for control; the primal ones urging him to open his mouth and attack, destroying the threat instantly, but his magic was screaming at him to keep his mouth closed and stay still.

The slight haze of sleep was quickly lifting, and his gaze narrowed. His eyes widened a moment later when he realized who stood in front of him.

Marcus Flint.

He extended his senses, confused by what they were telling him. His confusion only increased as the information was verified. It was Marcus Flint. Not only that, but Harry could sense no fear from him. Marcus must've had bollocks of steel to stare into his eyes calmly, while unaware of his true nature. That supposition proved incorrect a moment later when Marcus said, "Hello Harry."

Harry growled lowly in his throat, bewildered and frustrated. What was happening? How did Marcus know that he was Harry Potter? No one knew about his transformation except for Krum, and he'd kept his mouth shut.

Marcus had tensed slightly when Harry growled, but he didn't run or make any other foolish movements that could cause Harry to attack, a fact the Nundu Animagus found himself grateful for. This was Harry's first time in his Animagus form, and he hadn't yet mastered it; he wasn't even close to mastering it.

Harry stalked backwards, intending to put some space between them and then leave. Whatever was happening, he didn't want any part in it. As far as he knew, Flint was already one of Voldemort's Death Eaters. He hadn't spent the last four years of his life finding an escape, just to get trapped the first day he was free.

"Wait!" Marcus cried out softly, a hint of pleading in his tone.

Harry narrowed his eyes further, but paused as requested, unable to stop himself from satisfying his curiosity. Why did his magic think he was safe? How had Flint figured him out?

Marcus moved very slowly, and rolled up his left sleeve, baring his unblemished forearm. "I'm not a Death Eater. I despise Voldemort," Marcus spat. "He's a stain on the Founders' names and lineage."

Harry tilted his head to the side and waited for Flint to explain, though he knew the words were true. His magic always told him when someone lied to him, which happened more often than he cared to remember.

"I'm Ravenclaw's Heir, and you're Gryffindor's Heir. This is Ravenclaw Castle; you came through the wards, and that's how I knew you were here," he said succinctly, trying to answer what he assumed would be Harry's first questions. "Look, I know that Riddle's back, Voldemort, whatever the bastard is calling himself these days."

Harry growled loudly, barely keeping himself from breathing out his lethal poison. The sharp warning from his magic was all that kept him in check. If Flint thought he was going to fight the Dark Lord then –

"I don't expect anything of you," Marcus said quickly, hoping he'd correctly guessed the cause of Harry's anger. "I just wanted you to know that I believe you. You're safe here, and you don't ever have to leave." He took a deep breath. "I don't want you to leave," he confessed softly, fervently.

Harry set his hindquarters down on the ground, tail twitching behind him. This didn't make any sense. Why would Flint even care? It wasn't like the other wizard knew him! He couldn't remember speaking a single word to Flint in his entire life.

Marcus ran a hand down his face, frustrated at his inability to alleviate Harry's uncertainty. "How can I explain this?" he sighed. He looked back up into Harry's eyes as a thought occurred to him. "Do you know anything about Scrymency?"

Harry shook his head the slightest bit.

"Do you know what Legilimency and Occlumency are?" Marcus asked, hoping he wouldn't need to explain all the background information.

Harry nodded. They'd both been mentioned in his book. Some Magical Creatures were natural Occlumens and Legilimens, but he'd never heard about Scrymency.

Marcus heaved a breath of relief and shifted his weight to one leg, making himself more vulnerable. He wanted to show that he was willing to trust Harry, especially since he was hoping that Harry would trust him.

"Scrymency is a mind magic, as you've likely guessed. Unlike Legilimency and Occlumency, where someone enters another's mind, or tries to prevent someone from entering, it's a temporary merging of two minds. It would allow you to see my past, my reasoning, so that it'll make sense to you. I don't think it would be possible to adequately explain my decisions," Marcus explained, successfully keeping the nervousness out of his voice and stance.

Harry tilted his head slightly to the side and growled quietly.

"Yes, I would be able to see what your life has been like –"

Harry's tail bristled and his wings twitched restlessly.

"– but I wouldn't be able to tell anyone anything I saw. Not that I would anyway," he said in clarification before folding his arms over his chest.

Harry's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, then his magic ruffled comfortingly, so he lowered himself to the ground. His tail snaked along the grass behind him, appearing almost playful on this viciously dangerous creature.

"Is that a yes?" Marcus asked, unable to hide the hope in his gruff voice.

Harry snorted and tipped his head down on his paws. He watched each step that Marcus took, his magic humming through him at greater speed. He shivered with a feeling of expectation; his magic knew something that he didn't, and it was excited for him.

Flint was tall, even at Harry's height in Nundu form. He easily topped six foot, perhaps six and a half. Harry could see the evidence of muscles under his finely tailored clothes, but his build was lithe not bulky and burdensome. His hands were large, with long fingers that came to a blunt end, nails neatly trimmed. His stride was smooth, drawing Harry's eyes up his body and to his face.

It wasn't anything special. In fact, it was so remarkably ordinary that, without his height, people would have forgotten him a moment after seeing him. His jaw line was strong, and his chin had a cleft in it. His cheekbones were aristocratic in a faint way – not sharp like Malfoy's. His eyebrows were thick, and his hair was almost falling into them. His nose was straight, but slightly too large for his face, and his lips were neither plump nor thin. His eyes . . . they were surely the only remarkable thing about his face – they were hazel, and looked exactly as Harry's father's eyes had.

Harry suspected that even if his magic hadn't urged him to keep his mouth shut, when he'd woken disoriented, he still wouldn't have killed the man. Not with those eyes in his face.

"Harry?"

He blinked slowly, and realized that while he'd been momentarily distracted, Flint had stopped right before him.

"Can I start now?" Marcus asked cautiously.

Harry tilted his head down slightly once again. He observed carefully as Marcus reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a wand – one glance told him it was Black Maple – and pointed the wand at Harry. "Scrymens."

Harry felt his magic reach out and entwine with Marcus's, and then he was drowning in memories. They flashed by quickly, and with each progressing one he felt safer and more wanted than he ever had in his life.

The emotions that came with each memory, focused on him, almost overwhelmed him: determination – to protect Harry at all costs, anxiety – because Harry was tugging on his magic and he couldn't find Harry, disappointment – Harry had been sorted into Gryffindor and Marcus couldn't approach him, rage – that the Slytherins were trying to harm Harry, jealousy – Fleur had no right to kiss Harry like that, desire, so much desire – to hold and protect, cherish and possess.

He felt the emotions roiling through him, joining and somehow tying Harry and Marcus's magic together. He could feel them melding into one, and could feel pain, rage, and loneliness flooding through Marcus as he viewed Harry's memories. Then, blinding need overcame both of them – need to belong, to possess, to not be alone. Desire and need, building and building within them.

And then it peaked, snapped, and one word echoed through them.

"Mine!" their magic purred.

There was a blast-wave of magic, and Harry found himself lying on the grassy hilly next to the lakeside, bare and human beneath Marcus. Marcus, who'd dedicated his entire life to Harry, even going so far as to humiliate himself by failing in school. Marcus, who'd come to the Triwizard Tournament to make sure he survived. Marcus, whose magic had saved his life the night that Voldemort had attacked his family.

Harry's parents wanted him to live, and Marcus was the only reason he had.

Harry reached up, fisted his hands in Marcus's hair, and pulled their mouths together. He bit Marcus's lips harshly, and then thrust his tongue inside when the lips parted, earning himself a growl of pleasure.

He shivered slightly at the fierce desire he could taste in Marcus's mouth. Marcus's whole body screamed of hunger, care, and possession. He opened his mouth when Marcus bit his bottom lip in return, granting the larger man entrance to him. Marcus continued to feast on Harry, reveling in the taste that he'd ached to experience for years.

He ran his hands down Harry's bare sides, smirking against those lips as Harry growled and tightly clutched his hair. He tugged his lips away from the swollen ones and nibbled along Harry's jaw line, licking and biting his way down Harry's throat. He viciously latched onto the pale skin of Harry's neck, marking the flesh as his alone, and making Harry growl delightfully.

"Marcus," he purred.

Marcus pulled back slightly and smirked at the slightly dazed look in Harry's eyes and the flushed cheeks that bore evidence of arousal. His hands began caressing the smooth skin, rubbing and stroking Harry's flesh, smirking every time he received a gasp of pleasure. He lightly stroked the small nipples and tugged against them, making Harry arch his back in delight.

He pressed Harry deeper into the grass, lowering himself and licking down Harry's skin, nibbling the small nipples in his mouth. Harry's purring moans were music to his ears as he continued lower, nipping and licking a path down his mate's body.

"Fuck, that's good," Harry panted, chest heaving.

Harry hissed when the cool air brushed against his erection, making Marcus growl at the sight before him. His mate was displayed before him, panting in arousal and delightfully flushed. He lowered his head and sucked Harry's cock into his mouth, licking along the leaking slit and tasting Harry for the first time. A growl of delight tore from his throat and his eyes lightened to an almost golden color.

Marcus's muscles clenched and he fought, keeping himself from harshly claiming Harry, who arched and panted beneath him. He felt Harry's nails raking down his back and released Harry's cock. He closed his eyes harshly, pushing against Harry's magic hoping it would naturally lubricate him.

Harry gazed down into the hungry eyes, slightly shocked through the haze of pleasure that Marcus had even remembered something as mundane as lubricant. It made him feel precious, something he couldn't ever remember feeling in his life.

Harry listened to the harsh breaths and watched as Marcus's muscles trembled. It took him a few moments, but then he aided the process. He focused his magic and then gasped sharply when he felt the magic lubricate and stretch him. "Ah!"

Harry's cry drew Marcus's attention and he shivered in want and delight when he saw the now prepared offering that was spread out before him. Marcus lowered his nude form, growling as their naked flesh met. He lightly rubbed Harry's thighs, before thrusting them apart, and settling between them.

"Now!" Harry snarled, commanding Marcus to complete their mating.

His eyes locked with Harry's as he pressed forward, slowly pushing his erection into the tight opening. Harry threw his head back, a cross between a purr and a grunt of delight tearing from his throat. Marcus leaned down and bit the exposed neck hard enough to leave teeth marks.

"Fuck Harry, you're so tight!" he growled.

He groaned his delight when he sank as deep into Harry as he could possibly get. Harry was so very tight and warm, clutching him desperately with his inner muscles. He lowered his head and sank his teeth into Harry's shoulder this time, simultaneously pulling out and sinking back into the warm depths.

Harry's cry was full of both pleasure and pain, but he wasn't objecting. His left hand lifted, fisting in Marcus's hair and pulling him so that their lips would crash together again. There was nothing gentle about the kiss. It was all teeth and tongue, nipping, biting, and ferocious. They claimed each other as possessively and thoroughly as they could.

He tore his lips away and bit into Marcus's shoulder as Marcus began thrusting into his smaller body, striking his prostate with every strong thrust. Tears of pleasure streamed from Harry's eyes as he was masterfully claimed with protective arms holding him in place as they joined.

He pressed down against the invading erection, seeking to take Marcus even deeper than he was. Marcus lifted Harry's legs, placing them over his shoulders and thrust. He growled in delight at the groan that erupted from Harry's throat.

"Fuck Marcus, don't stop!" he ordered, sweat dripping down his skin.

Marcus smirked and continued thrusting into him, caressing Harry's erection until he came, releasing all over their stomachs and chests. The tight clamping of Harry's inner muscles tore the last bit of control from Marcus and he thrust harshly three more times before releasing his seed into his mate, claiming Harry for all time.

"You're mine, Harry," he snarled in Harry's ear.

"You're mine too, Marcus," Harry purred possessively as their hands ran over each other.

Marcus's muscles were twitching and shuddering as he fell to the side, pulling Harry back against his chest. He refused to remove himself from Harry, and inhaled deeply, smirk widening as the scent of blood and sex filled his nostrils.

"You're staying here," Marcus ordered, though the lilt at the end of the order made it sound more like a question.

Harry glared at him. "Of course I am. I'm not going to get involved in the stupid war. All that effort was so that I could escape the damn thing, and all the idiots," he said harshly.

"Good." Marcus groaned, pulled out, leaned up, and looked around. "Where the fuck did my clothes go?" he asked, irritated.

Harry sniggered and rolled onto his back, pushing himself up on his elbows. "Our magic wanted us together so much I think it burned the clothes."

Marcus opened his mouth to comment, but realized that Harry was most likely correct about that. He kissed Harry's cheek and then got to his feet. "It better not have burned my wand –" he grumbled as he began running his large hands – which were very talented, Harry thought with a leer – over the grass.

Harry leaned his head back and stared up at the sky. The stars were just starting to fade from the night sky, and he watched impassively as they vanished.

His parents had wanted him to live, and he was. Marcus had saved him the first time, and had clearly shared his magic several times over the years to keep Harry alive. He'd been that warmth that Harry always felt peripherally, but had discounted thinking it was solely his magic.

He didn't love Marcus, not yet, but someday . . . there was a chance. Someday he could have something he never thought could be his.

"Love you," Marcus said gruffly from his side, wand in one hand, tapping against his thigh.

"I know," Harry replied.

For Marcus, that answer was enough – for now. He had every intention of convincing Harry to take a chance on him, and let him in emotionally. He'd gotten into Harry mentally, magically, and physically, and all that was left was to win over the boy's heart.

He didn't doubt that he'd be able to do it either.

Until then though, he'd be satisfied with what he had – Harry at his side, as he'd always wanted.

Outside the wards of their sanctuary, the world could destroy itself, and they wouldn't do anything to save it. They didn't have the time or inclination to save the Light or the Dark. They were too damn busy saving themselves.

-End-