Egahds! What am I thinking?! I was looking through my old fics that I'd started (mainly drabbles) and came across this one...

I thought it was different to all my LM/HP's I've got going on so... I just wanted to get some opinions :)

So.. yeah, I hope you enjoy this FG/HP fic ^-^


I Love It When They Run

Fenrir was never one to eat his food politely. No, he had always played with it first. He would toy with it until it was beyond recognisable.

This was why he was circling a lonely Harry Potter. He'd never fully appreciated how...pretty Harry was. Yes he was a boy, but a very lithe, feline and delicate boy. He'd never realised, either, how good fear smelt on him; it was intoxicating, invigorating and delicious which was why he prolonged this moment.

Potter was in an open area of woodland while Fenrir moved between various trees that encircled the patch of grass Harry was on. Occasionally he would let out a rumbling growl when Harry was near him, which made the boy jump back from the side of the bushes. He looked quite worn out but that was understandable; he had chased Potter from the frantic fights in the castle into the woods where they could not be heard. Harry had tried to make an escape from one of the other exits but Fenrir was too fast – he had thick, muscular legs that outran Harry's by an embarrassing amount.

So now, all Potter was doing was waiting, edging round the grassy circle looking for a way out.

The boy won't succeed, thought Fenrir. I would not let something this beautiful out of my sight.

Finally, he decided to speak.

"Are you tired of playing this game, little kitten?" he growled. "Do you want to see what's next?"

"Just stop playing and come and fight me you coward!" the boy said clearly. If Fenrir couldn't smell the fear, he could definitely hear it in the slight wobble of his voice.

"You think you could fight me?" Fenrir remarked with a deep chuckle. "Magic only gets you so far, Potter."

"Then let's see how far I get!"

Fenrir was glad his little playmate was so fiery and fierce. It made it all the more fun.

Waiting until the boy's back was turned, Fenrir leapt out and ran stealthily towards Harry knocking him to the floor and turning him round on his back.

"That wasn't too hard," Fenrir breathed into the boy's face.

"Get off me!" Harry shrieked, trying to buck the great weight off him. The putrid breath of the werewolf was making him retch.

Fenrir sat back on his haunches, making sure to still pin Harry down.

"I don't think I will, my kitten," the werewolf murmured, scraping a particularly grimy fingernail across Harry's cheek. Harry shuddered at the disgusting touch and pushed even harder against the rock-solid chest.

Getting annoyed at Harry's pointless shoves, he gripped the two wrists and yanked them forwards making the boy sit up sharply. Harry's head was inches from Fenrir's and now he couldn't control the panicky breaths that were coming out of his mouth.

"Calm down, my little lamb," Fenrir said, a curl playing on his lips. "I just want to taste you."

"Wha-?" But Fenrir had shoved his violent, dirty mouth upon Harry's delicate, soft lips and was forcing his tongue through. However, Fenrir was not expecting the boy to snap his teeth down on his dominant tongue. Pulling out of Potter's mouth he felt several droplets of blood fall from his mouth.

"You're a fighter, aren't you?" he asked huskily.

Potter only glared which made Fenrir smirk.

"Yes... but you have to be, don't you, to lead all those people back there? To protect them and keep them safe." At this Harry's glower faltered.

"What are you on about?" the boy snapped.

Fenrir moved one of his hands to Harry's head and pulled it to the side so the youthful neck was exposed to him.

"What if," he whispered in the boy's ear, "their leader was something they feared? What if," he sniffed the throbbing jugular vein, "he was turned into something so frightful they'd rather strive through this war on their own, than trust a monster?"

"NO!" Potter shouted. "GET OFF ME!"

The boy tried to pull his head out of Fenrir's strong grip but got nowhere.

"Your fear is intoxicating, my petite," Fenrir said, the smell so arousing he found himself on top of Harry once again. Never before had fear smelt so damn good. This smell was unearthly, impossible...

And then, Harry did something that put everything into position.

As Fenrir leered over the boy's face, Harry turned his head to the side and stopped struggling; the sign of submitting.

Harry was submitting to him, to Fenrir, to... his alpha?

The thought made itself so obvious in Fenrir's mind that he was surprised it had taken him so long to figure it out. Everything was making sense: the strong pull Fenrir had to Potter that had made him drive the boy away from everyone else; the strong, incomprehensible smell of fear that was so diverse to anything Fenrir had smelt before; and the submitting pose Harry was still in... it was all so clear.

Harry was his mate.

OW! Cliche or what? Sorry, but that really is the only way for a FG/HP fic to work... unless there are any other ideas in your head?


Thanks for taking your time and reading this (rather quick and pointless) bit of slash :P