Okay, I'm blaming this entirely on "season_of_mists."

This story was written for the second round of Minerva Mctabby's "Blame Each Other" challenge (click here to see what this challenge was all about). "Remus/Hagrid wolf!sex" was asked for, so "Remus/Hagrid wolf!sex" is what "season_of_mists" got.

Um . . . I suppose something of a 'sort-of-bestiality' warning is in order.


The Call of the Wild
by Beth H.
(c) April 2003

Too restless to sleep, Hagrid rolled over in bed, unable to control the smile that broke over his broad face.

Buckbeak was free.

He didn't know how it'd happened. He'd had hours of help from Hermione and Ron - good youngsters, those two - but nothing they'd found in the old books had done any good. Buckbeak had lost his appeal.

Hagrid hadn't imagined that. He could remember the words of judgment pronouncing Buckbeak's doom clear as day. The journey back from London to Hogwarts under the wary eye of Cornelius Fudge had passed in a blur of tears, but he could remember Professor Dumbledore's sympathetic glance as the executioner, Macnair, approached the nervous beast at sundown, a look of triumph written plainly on his face. He could remember Buckbeak's shriek as Macnair drew his wand. The wails of agony as the Hippogriff drew his last breath.

And then suddenly, it was as if the execution had never taken place. Buckbeak was gone, and if the words that had been whispered among the bravest of the castle elves all evening were true, Sirius Black had escaped with him.

When Hagrid first got wind of that rumour, he couldn't help but worry for poor Buckbeak, out there in the big, wide world in the company of a known killer, but then the Headmaster had appeared at his door.

"You needn't worry about him, you know," he said softly, patting Hagrid's arm and smiling. "He'll be safe. They'll both be safe."

He was smiling. Professor Dumbledore was smiling at the thought of Sirius Black out there, free and safe, and that was more than enough for Hagrid to stop fretting. If young Sirius being free was good enough for the Headmaster, it was good enough for him. Great man, Dumbledore.

Hagrid turned over in bed once more, then sighed. No, it didn't look like he was going to get any sleep tonight, at least not any time soon. Maybe if he brewed up a warm drink, that might help. There might still be a pint or two of Ogden's buried away somewhere in his cupboards - wouldn't be a proper hot toddy without adding at least a drop of Firewhisky to the mix, would it?

He got out of bed and looked around the cabin. Awful lonely in here tonight without Buckbeak for company. Even Fang had abandoned his usual place at the fireside early in the evening and had ambled off in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. Funny that. Fang'd never liked being in the Forest at night, not even with Hagrid by his side.

The sound of a pair of wolves howling somewhere in the depths of the forest pierced the silent night, and Hagrid cocked his head to listen to their calls. Like calling to like. Could be that Fang'd finally felt the call - a stirring somewhere in the blood from his ancestors. Stranger things had been known to happen.

The howling continued, closer now than it had been before.

Not much point in listening, though. Those calls weren't for him. He sighed again, then went over to the fire and put the kettle on to boil; his drink wasn't going to make itself, was it?

He reached into the cupboard and took out a single cup and placed it on the old wood table. Looked a little lonely there, sitting all on its own. Maybe a saucer'd make it look a little more homely. As he turned back to the cupboard, he heard the sound of scratching and whining just outside the door.

"That you, is it, Fang?" he said hopefully. "Did you come back t'keep me company? Well, alright then, let me just . . . ."

He opened the door and was instantly knocked off balance by a wolf, its teeth bared and its hazel eyes glinting in the moonlight.

Hagrid chuckled. "Oh, you're an energetic one, aren't you? Come to play, have you?"

He knelt down to ruffle the beast's grey-brown fur, but the wolf backed away from the touch of his hands, then drew back onto its hind legs and . . . stood up.

Brow furrowed, Hagrid stood, then squinted in the firelight and took a closer look at his visitor. "No, you're not a wolf, are you? Not all wolf, at any rate.

" The creature growled threateningly, but remained motionless, neither moving in to attack, nor moving back to flee through the open door.

"Call myself a Care of Magical Creatures teacher! Should've known right away by your eyes. Never seen a true wolf with eyes that color before. You look hungry. Why don't you curl up there by the fire and I'll get you something to eat."

Hagrid turned away to see what there might be in the stores that a peckish Werewolf might like. Not much there but lettuce. No, that wasn't going to do at all. Maybe some leftover field mice. He started to open the wooden storage bin, but a soft whine drew his attention.

The Werewolf had moved to the rug by the fire, but he hadn't settled. Instead he was staring at Hagrid as if there was something he was trying hard to figure out.

"A little confused, are you? Wondering why you haven't tried to make a dinner out of me?" He drew closer to the tense creature, then whispered conspiratorially. "It's because I'm . . . not quite human. Not all. Sort of a secret, so don't go telling your friends . . .well, I don't reckon you have any friends, exactly, but . . . . "

The Werewolf hunched over, lowered his head, then made a sound that was something between a growl and a whimper. Hagrid took the kettle off the fire, then got down on his hands and knees and crawled to his side.

"I shouldn't have said that, eh?"

The Werewolf uncurled just long enough to glance at Hagrid, then looked away and dropped his head again.

"Shouldn't have said you didn't have any friends. Always talking before I think." He reached out and let the weight of his hand rest lightly on the Werewolf's chest, then more firmly until he could feel the rapid heartbeat beneath his palm. "Just . . . they're not here, are they? Your friends, that is."

Another soft whine, and Hagrid gently stroked the rough fur. "Not so easy sometimes, is it? Not having anyone."

Minutes passed, until finally the Werewolf shifted, letting his weight rest against Hagrid's arm. Slowly - cautiously - he turned his head, bumping his forehead softly against Hagrid's bearded chin, then lifted his face and touched his nose to Hagrid's nose.

Each panting breath of the Werewolf warmed Hagrid's face. He moved back and looked into the other's glittering hazel eyes for a long minute.

"Don't know if I mentioned it," he mumbled to some spot over the Werewolf's left shoulder, "but I've always been . . . partial to Magical Creatures."

The Werewolf tossed back his head and made a noise that, in a man, might have been laughter.

He knelt forward, until his forehead almost touched the floor, his tail wagging rapidly behind him. Then he rose and rubbed his face against Hagrid's beard, licked a wet path down Hagrid's broad, furred chest until finally coming to a stop just below his navel. His tongue darted out, almost as if he was . . . tasting the air near Hagrid's genitals. Searching. Looking for some kind of sign.

He drew back and snarled, but to Hagrid's ears it sounded like a noise born more of frustration than of anger or threat. Hagrid shifted, still on his knees, and rubbed his face against the Werewolf's grey-brown furred flank.

Warm. So warm. Hagrid closed his eyes and sniffed the scents that mingled in the deep fur - man and wolf and crushed leaves from the forest floor and . . . pumpkin juice?

The Werewolf spun in a circle, whipping his tail against Hagrid's face as he turned, coming closer to nuzzle his neck, then moving back and starting the cycle all over again. It was only when he cocked one leg that Hagrid shook his head.

"No marking territory, if you don't mind. Only . . . the rug was a gift from Professor Dumbledore."

Again, the Werewolf tossed his head and made that sound that could have been laughter.

"Happier now, are you?"

In answer, the Werewolf licked his face once more, then moved behind him and nestled in the space between his legs, waiting until Hagrid nodded to drape fully over his body, silky belly fur warm and soft on Hagrid's skin. Hagrid reached up to draw the clawed hands around him, the embrace of arms around his own furred belly all human. And once more the Werewolf waited . . . until Hagrid himself pushed back against the hard length behind him.

Five minutes. A half hour, maybe. It might've been longer. Hagrid didn't know how long the two remained joined that night.

But he did know that both found release - and both found comfort as they lay curled next to each other throughout the night beside the still-burning fire.

Shortly after dawn, Hagrid awoke to find a man sleeping soundly beside him where a Werewolf had been just hours before. Ah, Remus Lupin, was it? Should've known. The hazel eyes . . . they both had the same hazel eyes.

He got up off the rug and rummaged through his wardrobe before finding a robe left over from his youth that might do for his guest.

When he turned back, Remus was sitting up and watching him, his knees drawn up to his chest.

"Alright, Professor?" Hagrid asked gently, holding the robe out in one hand.

Remus closed his eyes briefly, then took the robe he'd been offered and wrapped it around his smooth-skinned body.

"Thank you, Hagrid. For . . . the robe," he said quietly, " and for . . . I don't suppose it would do any good to say I don't know how I came to be here."

Hagrid tilted his head to one side and thought for a minute. "No, I don't think it would at that, but . . . I just want you to know your secret's safe with me, Professor."

Remus licked his dry lips. "Hagrid, did I . . . I didn't hurt you last night, did I?"

"Me?" Hagrid chuckled. "Oh, I'm fine. Maybe more than fine this morning, if you catch my drift."

A blush appeared on Remus' face, but he smiled. "I'm . . . glad. You're a good man, Hagrid."

"So are you, Professor. Remus." Hagrid placed a hand on Remus' shoulder. "You're a good man. Doesn't matter what else you are; you're a good man."

He opened the door, and Remus went out into the early morning light. As he walked up the path to the castle, Fang - looking none the worse for a night out alone in the forest - padded into the warm cabin.

"Good to see you back, Fang," Hagrid said, patting his companion's head. "Hope you found what you were looking for out there. Now let's see what we can do about making some tea."


Chit chat, Critiques, Gratuitous Praise: Beth H

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