Title: Snow Angle

Author: ChessKeeper

Rating: M

Paring: Harry/Fenrir

Warning: Slash

Disclamer: I don't own Harry Potter.

A/N: This isn't my first Harry Potter fanfiction, however, this is the first I've posted and don't intend on taking down because I realize it is rubbish. I have no beta so all the mistakes are mine, and mine alone. Please if you see something particularly glaring let me know.

Enjoy.

Chapter One: Discovery

Fenrir mentally berated himself for leaving his cave. It was now snowing and he had yet to come across any animals, and this was not a good combination. It didn't help that the full moon was in just a couple of days and he felt restless, and unfortunately aroused constantly.

He wanted to run with a pack, and he wanted to fuck. Yet neither of these things were available to him. Running was made impractical because of the several inches of snow blanketing the ground, and he wasn't part of a pack either.

Fucking was also out of the question, unless Fenrir counted furiously masturbation as an act of sex, and he didn't. He classified what he did earlier that morning as a desperate attempt to be able to walk comfortably for the rest of the day. It didn't work, within ten minutes, he was already aroused again.

Damn werewolf libido.

Fenrir sniffed the air, but all he could smell was the crisp scent of winter and the surrounding trees. With a huff of frustration, Fenrir turned around and stalked back to his cave, but not before gathering an arm full of firewood for later.

Once Fenrir arrived home, or what he had dubbed home for the winter, he dropped the firewood haphazardly on the floor. He then tended to the fire, making sure it was blazing appropriately before laying back and closing his eyes. Fenrir rested his back against the cave wall enjoying the heat that the fire was giving off.

It wasn't everyday that Fenrir could light a fire without worrying that the humans would find him. Humans were very curious creatures, and they stuck their noses in to places they didn't belong. But Fenrir figured their was too much snow and the sky was to gray for anyone to notice a small fire.

Fenrir could feel himself nodding off and he didn't even try to resist the lull of sleep.

When Fenrir awoke it wasn't because of the cold, or natures call it was the sound of twigs snapping outside of his cave.

Fenrir's eyes snapped open and he cautiously made his way outside. It was then that he smelt it, the scent of blood, human blood to be exact. It took Fenrir several minutes to locate the source of the blood because of the snow.

Slowly Fenrir approached the snow-covered body. He could see a lump of black hair poking out of the pink tinted snow. He stood there eyeing the lump trying to decide whether to drag the body back to his cave, or leave the body there.

Despite the rumors about him, Fenrir wasn't into cannibalism and having a dead body in his cave wasn't appealing.

It wasn't until Fenrir heard a soft painful moan that he realized that he wasn't looking at a corpse, but he would be soon if he didn't do anything.

Weeks ago, Fenrir would have returned to his cave and ignored the young man bleeding at his feet, but the need for companionship overrode his need for privacy and he reluctantly dragged the boy into the safety of his cave.

He brought the boy over next to the fire. Without hesitation, Fenrir stripped him of his wet clothes. He then shredded the black haired boy's shirt and used the tattered pieces to bandage him up. Stroking the fire back to life, he deposited the last of the wood onto it.

The cave quickly heated up but not fast enough for Fenrir's liking. He scooped the boy up, much gentler than before, and moved him to the bed which consisted of several blankets, pelts, and various fur he had collected strewn around in one area.

Once Fenrir had settled the boy in, covered him in blankets, and noticed that he had finally stopped shivering he took the time to study the child.

The first thing he noticed was that he was small. He couldn't be much older than fifteen, however the raw scent of power emanating from the boy seemed to contradict this. His eyes were closed but Fenrir imagined that they were probably an ordinary color like brown or black to match his hair.

His hair was an unruly mess of tangles that Fenrir didn't dare touch. He could see that it was matted with blood. There was enough blood to be concerned but not enough, in his opinion, to bandage it. Plus it was already dry and it smelt days old.

The boy was pale but from what he had seen, the younger male had some muscles. He was toned and on the skinny side, painfully skinny. It unnerved him.

With a deep breath, Fenrir settled down beside the boy. He turned his back to the younger man and closed his eyes. The soft sounds of another person breathing felt foreign to him, not necessarily bad, but strange. He had been alone for years opting for privacy and freedom over companionship and the pack life.

Harry's head was pounding. He didn't dare open his eyes in fear of what he would see. Harry moved his hands slowly up to his head. Gently he prodded at the top of his skull and was dismayed to discover he couldn't even get his fingers through his hair.

Defeated he dropped his hand back down on his chest and gasped in pain. It was then that Harry noticed he wasn't freezing or covered in snow, to his shock he noticed that he was actually naked.

The soft fur pelt beneath him was calming, he doubted if Voldemort had captured him then he wouldn't be nearly as comfortable and he surely wouldn't have bandaged him up. Harry's eyes fluttered open and he was greeted with the sight of a mass of gray blur, which was much different than the normal white blur he would wake up to in the infirmary.

"You're awake." A voice growled making Harry snap his head up in a panic. He glared through his nausea caused by the sudden movement at the ominous blur in front of him. The blur bopped down in front of what looked like a fire. "Hungry?"

Harry not trusting his voice nodded his head slowly. He held the blanket down around himself in embarrassment, being naked in front of a strange man was not in his comfort zone. The blur shifted and before Harry knew it, the man was helping him sit up gently avoiding his injurious. Then a bowl was placed in his hands before he had time to protest. "Eat up."

The fear of poisons or potions flew from Harry's mind, as he smelt the aroma of the stew. Harry took a tentative sip and heaven flooded his taste buds, Harry couldn't even remember the last time he had a full meal. With a couple of mouthfuls of food in his stomach, Harry suddenly remembered himself and realized how rude he was acting. "Thank you." He spoke quietly, his voice sounding foreign even to his own ear.

The other man just ignored Harry who was happily stuffing his face full. Midway through his bowl of stew, which he was eating by sipping since the man provided no utensils, a piece of what Harry assumed was bread was chucked into his lap.

"Thank you." Harry said again this time his voice was much stronger. He eyed the blurry man who seemed to be apathetic to his presence.

The bread was hard, and stale, but honestly Harry didn't care. He dipped in the stew to soften it, which made it much easier to chew. Caught up in his eating Harry didn't notice the other man approach him. The man crouched down in front of Harry who looked up just in time to see his glasses being slipped on his face.

Harry blinked several times. "Thank you once again." Harry paused for a second and finally asked, "Who are you?"

The man sat beside the fire and turned his head toward him. Harry took a second to study the man's face. He was older than Harry was, but despite his gray hair, he wasn't that old looking. His mouth seemed to be permanently set in a cross between a grimace and a frown. He was wearing a pair of brown shorts that were obviously old and he was shirtless. There were neither shoes that Harry saw nor socks.

"My name is Fenrir Grayback."

"It's nice to meet you Fenrir." Harry stumbled over his words. The name Fenrir sounded familiar but he couldn't quite remember where he heard it. "My name is Harry." He ended lamely not mentioning his surname.

Fenrir nodded and waved his hand dismissively, "You are still injured. Go back to bed and tomorrow you will answer my questions."

Harry sat the bowl down along with his glasses. He paused and stifled a yawn. Now that he thought about it, he was rather tired. Harry arranged himself in the pile of blankets so that he was comfortable and closed his eyes. The sound of fire crackling met his ear and with a quiet, "Thank you." Harry drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

Fenrir sat silently watching the boy, Harry, sleep. It was a remarkable sight. Fenrir could honestly say that he couldn't even remember a time when someone had let their guard down around him and slept.

Harry looked so vulnerable lying their on his back, like a turtle, with his soft easily damaged belly up. So trusting and innocent yet that submissive state screamed at Fenrir to be dominate and...

Fenrir snorted and stood up fleeing the cave quickly.

It was true that his instinct told him to take the boy, mate with him and relieve some of his sexual frustration. It would be easy to do; he was already injured and couldn't over power him. The thing that held Fenrir back was the look of pure gratitude the boy had on his face when Fenrir handed him the bowl of food.

No one was grateful to Fenrir, at best most people respected him at worst they ran screaming and the latter was more frequent now days.

Where Fenrir had expected to find dull brown eyes he was surprised to find lively green ones instead. Even with all the dirt and grim Fenrir couldn't help but stare. The image of him laying so exposed on his bed wasn't helping his arousal problem.

Fenrir took a long deep breath, his nostrils flaring as he searched for food. He had used the last bit of meat for the stew and he needed to find more soon. The smell of a blizzard was in the air and Fenrir knew he had to act fast.

Fenrir gathered several handfuls of wood and moved them safely inside the cave. Each time he returned with more supplies he would glance over towards the bed to make sure Harry hadn't left, and each time he ended up staring for longer amounts of time.

He gathered a bucket of fish, and a couple of rabbits, he was even lucky enough to catch a doe. Fenrir carefully placed the meat in the back of the cave where the temperature was lower then in the main area. The food wouldn't last long, maybe a few days, but that would be enough to get them through the worst of the blizzard.

Fenrir hated the winter. By this time last year, he had safely made it to his small hut that he used during the thick of winter. Unfortunately, the blizzard moved too fast for him to relocate himself and the boy. Just walking there would take a whole day, and they didn't have that kind of time, plus Fenrir was reluctant to move Harry due to his injuries. Fenrir wasn't a doctor by any means but it was obvious that the younger male was in no shape to be moved around.

Human healing times were always hard to predict for Fenrir, he hadn't been a weak human in a long time, a very long time.

Returning to the cave Fenrir warmed his hands on the fire deep in his own thought. He was drawn out of his thoughts by an increase of breathing from Harry. Hesitantly Fenrir turned his attention towards the makeshift bed. The blanket covering Harry had slipped down to his waist exposing his chest to the coolness of the cave.

He was turning and twisting his body around as if trying to get away from an invisible foe. Fenrir was immediately worried when he felt the boy's brow, heat was radiating off it and if Fenrir had to guess, he'd say either his fever was due to his injuries or exposure to the elements, either way a fever wasn't good news. "Harry?" Fenrir patted the boy on the cheek trying to bring him back to consciousness. Harry didn't awake though, he just arched his neck and relished in the coolness of Fenrir's hand.

Fenrir eyes widened as Harry practically snuggled into his hand. Harry's breath brushed over Fenrir's palm and Fenrir withdrew his hand as if he had been burned. Shaking his head Fenrir rummaged around the cave and found an old piece of cloth. He wet the cloth using snow and placed it on the squirming boy's head. Fenrir settled down beside Harry occasionally re-wetting the cloth. When the sunset Fenrir became hungry and popped a raw fish into his mouth eating it quickly.

Wiping the blood from his mouth Fenrir once again made himself comfortable beside Harry. He tried to convince himself that the quiet little whimpers coming from the boy did not affect him, but they did. Not only did he have to worry about Harry's heath but also the full moon. It was drawing closer and Fenrir found it harder to control his urges and temperament. He could feel the pull unusually strong at nighttime it was almost unbearable.

Gritting his teeth in aggravation Fenrir willed himself to sleep but was awoken roughly hours later by a shivering form pressing against him. Fenrir growled, his mouth salivated as his nose was filled with Harry's scent.

As the hours ticked away, and the full moon approached Fenrir swore that Harry's scent was becoming even harder to resist.

Half of Fenrir wanted to flee; the other half of him wanted to bury himself deep inside Harry and fuck like there was no tomorrow. Fenrir cursed and tried in vain to remove himself from Harry who was gripping Fenrir's arm like a lifeline.

The heat radiating off the younger male was worrisome, but there wasn't anything Fenrir could do but wait and try to cool the boy down the best he could.

Harry was dreaming. He was sure of it. Someone was calming his fears by gently touching his forehead, his neck, his cheek and the top of his shoulders; the hand was cold and comforting. It soothed the heat emanating from his pallid skin. No one offered Harry comfort, not like that.

The touch was different from who anyone had ever touched him before.

Sirius would gently place his hand on Harry's shoulder to comfort him. Remus would ruffle his hair like an uncle would do to a child and Mrs. Weasley would hug him.

"Quiet down, your whimpering will wake the whole forest." A voice soft and feathery echoed in Harry's mind. The words were harsh but the voice lacked any maliciousness. "Much better, sleep boy, you're sick."

Harry tried to speak, but he found that he couldn't. This enticed panic within Harry. He grabbed his throat and tried to call out. All that came out of Harry's mouth were pathetic whimpers he didn't even recognize as his own voice.

"Calm down." There was a long pause as Harry dropped his hands, his eyes fluttered open but he couldn't see anything and in frustration, he closed them. "Shh," The voice hushed him into sleep.


A/N: Edit 4/10/2012 Chapter's one and two have been combined because I was unsatisfied with the length of them separate.