A/N: There were ample hints in canon that Fenrir 'liked them young' so to speak, so I took that idea and ran with it.

Wolf in the Wild

This had been a very stupid idea. Not to mention just plain bad in general. Hermione would be so ashamed of him if he ever made it out of this tree-infested hellhole to tell her about his latest failure to think ahead.

There was a forest preserve not far from Little Whinging and, sick of the Dursley's usual intolerance of all things Harry, he relocated there for an evening stroll after finishing the post-dinner dishes. A dinner that he had slaved over but was not permitted to taste.

Anyway, it wasn't the forest part that was bad. It was the getting lost part. It was now approaching midnight, judging by the position of the gibbous moon, and it was becoming increasingly clear to Harry that he would be spending the night in the woods.

He cursed, jamming his hands further into the pockets of his jumper. It was one of Dudley's, and one of the least-embarrassing casts-offs. It still hung on him like a dress, though. He supposed he must have looked like an amateur criminal with the hood pulled down over his eyes, but he was cold, damn it! At least it was red.

There was the whispery sound of leaves rubbing against one another. He froze, holding his breath. Oh god- were there wild animals in here? What did a forest preserve actually preserve? Was he about to be eaten and chewed like a pet toy-!

A rabbit scampered over his foot, disappearing into the dusky shadows. He let out a sigh of relief that rapidly choked off when he spotted the hulking shape of whatever animal must've scared the rabbit off. It was a giant hunched shadow slightly darker than the shade of the trees.

Not waiting to see what it was for sure (all he needed to know was that it was bigger than him), he high-tailed it, flight instinct giving him a burst of energy. His lungs burned after a few minutes of frantic sprinting, but he still didn't stop. In between every breath he could hear the soft thump-thump of the creature's paws hitting the earth.

He skidded to a sudden stop when the dirt tapered into pebbles, water from a narrow creek lapping against his toes. He looked over his shoulder and saw that the dark shape was getting bigger. The creek was cold when he slid into it, and deeper than he'd thought.

His big toe skimmed against a slippery rock and he realized that he would need to tread water to keep his head above the water. His legs ached from running, but he remembered reading somewhere that most wild mammals won't follow prey into water.

So he treaded water, panting, and waited.

The shape came closer and closer and then slowed suddenly. It was still in shadow, but Harry thought that it was maybe some kind of wolf. Hell, maybe it was an escaped tiger from the zoo a mile away. He waited and watched some more until it began to move strangely. He frowned, not sure of what he was seeing at first. The thing seemed to be…standing up?

His breath hitched when his eyes, even behind blurry glasses, could clearly distinguish the silhouette of a man; A very big man, with broad shoulders and thick powerful legs, to be exact. He began to move closer slowly now, but kept in the shadows. At last he leaned against a sturdy oak trunk and just watched him back.

Harry whimpered a little. A wild dog or wolf wouldn't follow him into water, but this person sure as hell would. And what kind of people went running after young boys in forests at night? Criminals! He tried to retreat towards the other side of the creek, but his legs choose now to cramp painfully. He hissed and reached down to massage them.

The man came closer, and finally broke out of the shadows. The fattening moon illuminated a face that seemed almost familiar. Harry frowned. Maybe they were acquaintances? Maybe he wasn't a criminal out to kill him…

That would be nice.

"What's the matter, Little Red?"

Harry jumped, startled, hand flying away from his sore thigh to flap wildly as he gaped at the stranger; his voice was unusual. It was thick and kind of rumbly, sort of like he always imagined a wolf's voice would sound like if they could talk (becoming a Parselmouth had driven him to consider many things). Before he could respond, the stranger continued, creeping a little closer to squat about three feet from the water's edge.

"Are you too tired? Poor Little Red. You picked a good place to rest. I can't go in there, you know. I don't like water."

"…Oh," was all Harry could think to say.

The stranger kept looking at him, and Harry looked back. He had grey eyes and hair, though he wasn't an old man. He was maybe half-way through his thirties at the oldest, but plenty handsome still in a wild kind of way. Harry also noticed that he wasn't wearing a shirt. Just jeans and old ones at that; they had a lot of mud splatters and little rips on them, and looked comfortable.

"Um…?"

Harry couldn't feel most of his body from exhaustion and cold now, but he was too scared to leave the water. He wasn't sure if the man was lying about not going into water or not, but he didn't want to risk leaving it. However, he couldn't do this all night. His sweats were water-logged and his shoes felt like rocks pulling him lower and lower. He began to toe one off, though it was slow-going.

"Hm?"

Harry cast about for something to say. "Why do you keep calling me Little Red?"

"You're wearing a red hood and you're little. If you called me Big Grey, it would be the same." He explained this as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Harry still thought it was weird, and the reference to Little Red Riding Hood heightened his awareness of the wolfish look the man was giving him. He swallowed. Hopefully he wasn't supposed to be dinner like that unfortunate girl-child from the fairy tale.

"Oh."

"You don't have to call me that, though. My name is Fenrir Greyback, and you are very nice to look at so I think I'll keep you when you come out of there instead of eating you. I don't know what I'll have for my dinner now, of course, but I'll think of something."

He rubbed his chin, stroking the grey goatee with his thumb, obviously thinking very hard about how to fill his empty stomach.

Harry choked. What the hell? Was this guy some kind of weirdo? He blushed from the compliment anyway, and felt embarrassed about it.

His legs locked up completely several minutes later, and he began to sink like a stone. He yelled in fright and thrashed. Quick as a flash, Fenrir's big hand grabbed his flailing arm and hauled him ashore. Harry shivered, still frozen and terrified out of his mind.

Instead of doing anything awful to him, Fenrir just scooped him up like he was a toy and carried him back into the depths of the forest. Harry began to wonder if he was ever going to see Hermione again, or anyone else for that matter.

Fenrir was very warm, and his body heat helped warm him up. He pressed his cheek to his chest, too cold to care, and listened to the steady tumpty-tump of his heartbeat.

He fell asleep.

When he woke up, he was lying on something very soft and furry and warm. He was also naked. Peeking one eye open, he spied his red jumper hanging from a tree branch along with all his other clothes, obviously drying in the summer sun. Confused, he sat up and looked around. He was at the edge of a small cave, just big enough to cram three people inside should there be an emergency. There were some wrapped bundles of something at the back of the cave, and a piece of brown cloth attached to the front of the cave. He deduced that it could be drawn closed for privacy or warmth.

Before he could make any other observations, difficult as they were without his glasses, a big hand came out of nowhere and grabbed him, furry blankets and all. He yelped, struggling, but soon found himself pressed into a hug. A thumb half the thickness of his wrist slipped his glasses onto his nose. He blinked. They had been repaired and cleaned, and the ear loops no longer dug into the sensitive skin behind his ears.

"Good morning, Little Red. Did you sleep well?"

He didn't answer, too busy staring at the man he now remembered as Fenrir. Last night's gloom hadn't done him justice. He was much bigger (and much better looking) than he'd thought. He opened his mouth to mumble a response, only to have a finger pressed against his lips. It was very warm.

"Shush now. I took care of you last night, so now you need to take care of me."

Harry frowned. If he hadn't been running away from what he'd mistaken for a wild animal last night, he wouldn't have needed rescuing!

Fenrir continued, "I saved you because you were too pretty to eat, which I still agree with now that I can see you properly."

Harry scowled at being called pretty. Nice-looking was one thing, but pretty was a word meant only for girls and things like flowers and tea cups! He was a man, and he had his pride! Well, he was 13, but that was still older than a boy.

"So?" he snapped without thinking. Fenrir just looked amused and squatted to clamber inside the cave. He laid Harry back down and arranged the furs around him, ensuring that his head was cushioned from the rocky ground. He then reached down and undid the fastenings of his jeans.

Harry flushed and turned his head away. He could hear him undressing, and saw the jeans get tossed out the entrance to the cave. A brawny arm then tugged the make-shift curtain closed. In the dappled light that filtered through its patches, Harry felt him lift the edge of the fur and slide in behind him. He jumped when the arm wrapped around his abdomen, thumb hooking in his belly button, and pulled his back flush against Fenrir's chest. It was a very muscle-ly chest. Harry blushed at himself for noticing and closed his eyes, trying to feign sleep.

Fenrir chuckled against his ear, suddenly so close Harry's breath hitched. A knee pried between his tightly-closed legs and gently but firmly pried them apart. He opened his mouth to object, but Fenrir somehow moved his neck around and-

He kissed him. Harry's first kiss was officially gone, and then he stopped thinking about that when Fenrir sucked on his upper lip. Confused about what to do, he instinctively sucked on Fenrir's lower one, hoping that was what you were supposed to do when someone kissed you.

Harry feared he was about to be molested. He was more afraid of the fact that the thought didn't particularly upset him. There was something very appealing about Fenrir's sheer mass and warmth. That and Harry had been curious about sex for almost two years now, dying to know what the big deal was.

The knee moved further between his legs, leading to a fuzzy thigh. Harry giggled despite himself at the ticklish feeling, and Fenrir smiled against his ear.

"Ticklish, Red?"

"Mm-hm," Harry shyly admitted. He made up his mind to not let himself be raped, but rather to respond to this…sexual thing consensually. This meant opening his eyes and rolling over to face him. Fenrir lay on his back and guided him on top of his chest, legs straddling his broad hips. Harry's breath fluttered in his chest at the unfamiliar position, but didn't deny to himself that it excited him.

If sex things always made you feel all warm and tingly, he fully intended to initiate a sexual relationship the second he stepped back on Hogwart's grounds with the first willing person. Broad palms cupped his shoulder blades tenderly and then slid down his back, fingers spreading wide to reach as much skin as possible. He traced his spine, counted his ribs, and dug his little fingers into the dimples at the base of his back.

Then he reached down and groped his arse without shame. Harry buried his face in Fenrir's fragrant neck to hide his face. He wanted this, but that was still kind of embarrassing!

The hands didn't stay there long, but moved down the creased skin beneath the curve of his nates and then along the backs of his thighs. Harry tried not to think about his body's reaction to these touches, but his awareness was forced when one of the hands skimmed back up and dipped between his thighs to cup his sack and toy with the soft flesh there.

A squeak escaped him before he could stop it, and Fenrir nipped at his ear cartilage.

"Sorry, are you ticklish there too? Should I stop touching you there?"

"N-no…"

"Good," Fenrir made a content sound and reached between their bodies to tug gently on his growing erection. Harry gasped and bit down on his tongue in surprise. It felt really good to be touched there by someone else, and his hips squirmed a little from the sensations of being touched everywhere there at once. Fenrir's hands were so big they could hold most of him all at once.

The calloused pad of his index finger scraped under his foreskin and he cried out, this time biting Fenrir's shoulder instead of himself. Fenrir grunted and one of his hands grabbed his hip, stilling his little thrusts.

"W-what?" he stuttered out, flushed and wanting nothing more than to continue.

"No biting," Fenrir sternly commanded, waving a finger at him. Harry's eyes crossed as he followed its movement. He got a smirk, and then the finger was nudging his lower lip, "Here, suck on it, will you?"

That was unexpected, but Harry was past caring. He did so, accepting the second one when it was offered. In response to this, Fenrir went back to fondling him. his body was starting to feel tense and euphoria fluttered at the edges of his vision. He tried to give Fenrir some warning of this, but he already seemed to know.

He took away his fingers and pulled Harry's left leg higher up his side, until Harry's knobby knee brushed his ribs. This was slightly uncomfortable, but he was still feeling too drugged on physical pleasure to mind too much. Those stroking hands, running over all of him and the thin lips that touched his from time to time had his head swimming. He panted when his arse was cupped by the hand he'd been sucking on, and then jumped when one of the saliva-coated fingers nudged him down there.

He didn't tense, didn't pull away, didn't blink. He just stared into Fenrir's steady grey eyes and panted softly as it slowly circled and then penetrated him.

It felt a bit weird, though he didn't mind it much. It slid in part-way, then back out mostly, and then completely inside of him. And then it crooked, flicking something inside of him that made the euphoria half carry him off to lala land. His neck gave out and his forehead came down on Fenrir's shoulder. There was a scar there, a raised line of flesh. He focused on it, trying not to succumb to the too-good feeling down there. Two fingers were inside now, moving apart and together and apart like scissors or chopsticks.

He let out a little moan, shivering. It felt so good every time that spot was touched that he thought he was going to pass out. It didn't matter that he felt stretched down there or that he wasn't sure why Fenrir was doing this (though he suspected).

When Fenrir pulled them out, albeit slowly, Harry whimpered and whispered that he wanted them back inside him, and that he didn't want him to ever stop touching him there for as long as he lived; his prick was leaking fluid all over the place, and he was trembling like an earthquake.

Fenrir chuckled at his reactions. He pressed a kiss to his nose and then grabbed his hips, hands curving over his hipbones in a possessive way that Harry liked immediately. And then he lifted them up, took away one of his hands, and began to press him back down. Harry's breathing sped up when he realized what was happening, and he let out a little moan at the thought as the tip of Fenrir's prick slid inside of him.

He arched his back, and Fenrir slid in two inches instead of one. He growled and suddenly Harry was full. He gnawed his lips, trying not to let Fenrir see that he'd hurt him by going so fast.

He was still hard, and the feeling of being so full was starting to appeal to him as his body adjusted. Taking initiative once the pangs went away, he pressed his palms flat on his chest and rose up a little. An inch slid out. Then he moved back down, and it slid back in. as it did so, the shaft of Fenrir brushed that hot spot again.

The sound he made was loud and needy.

Hands full of over-heated and over-sexed Harry, Fenrir made a wise decision and changed their positions suddenly. He never thought that the pretty little thing he'd stalked last night would turn out to be such a little faunlet. He'd hit the jackpot and discovered one of those young people with a natural intense desire for sex. As far as he was concerned, Little Red was never leaving his sight again. He felt so heavenly good and the noises he made-! They were enough to make Fenrir crazy.

Harry found his cheek pressed against the furs, his spine curving straight into the air. Glancing down, between his spread legs, he saw that Fenrir was on his knees behind him. He smiled and pushed back at him with his hips, letting him know without any doubt what he wanted. Fenrir growled and pulled away until Harry was afraid that he'd done something wrong and that it was all over now. But then he leaned forward, put his palms on the ground on either side of Harry's head, and slammed his hips forward.

Harry mewled and shuddered as Fenrir proceeded to do this over and over again until he was swimming in the overlapping sensations. He spied one of the hands pressed flat on the ground leave, and wondered where it was going for a split second before it wrapped around him and pulled several times.

It was too much, and he drowned. Outwardly, he let out a drawn-out moan with an edge of a scream to it and arched impossibly against Fenrir. His muscles tensed, all of them, and Fenrir began to move faster. Harry noticed this as though in a dream, his ears ringing from his after-glow.

All sense of rhythm gone, Fenrir just focused on fusing himself with him. he didn't last more than five blissful minutes before he jerked one last time deep inside him and went limp.

Thankfully he didn't crush his precious pet, and cuddled him sleepily instead. Little Red didn't respond, and he was worried until he felt his soft breaths and saw that he'd fallen asleep after all the excitement.

He smiled and wrapped him in the furs again before joining him in sleep.

~000~

Harry Potter was declared missing, assumed dead, and Albus Dumbledore was forced to defeat the Dark Lord without the Chosen One's influence.

Voldemort never found out what became of Fenrir Greyback.

~000~

End Wolf in the Wild

This was raunchier than usual, but whatever.