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Harry approaches the busy picnic clearing with trepidation and holding the pie he spent all afternoon baking. It's his second pie. The first had died a charred, sooty death to over-baking and Harry's inadvisable decision to pull some weeds to relieve his worries. Coming back inside to find his pie unfit for consumption hadn't improved his perception of the day. Still, it's been marked on Harry's calendar for two weeks and he can just about hear Sirius' voice in his head.
Go. Don't be good, Sirius would say, laughing and sending Harry off to try new things.
This one's both old and new at the same time. If Sirius were here, he would already be out there chatting up the various people gathered in the clearing. Of course, if Sirius were here, this would all be moot point. If Sirius were alive, Harry wouldn't need to approach a pack to run with on full moons. He would have had all the pack he needed.
As soon as he's close enough, a blonde woman a few years older than him waves and calls out, "Welcome! Are you Harry, by any chance?"
"That's me," Harry says, holding up his pie. "Uh, hi. I have pie."
"I'm Queenie." She takes the pie from him, lifting the foil and sniffing. "Mmm. You'll have to stop me from eating this all myself. I love pie." With a longing sigh, she deposits the pie on one of the picnic tables and loops an arm through Harry's. "Do you need anything? Do you have any full moon routines? We're a pretty simple bunch. No animal sacrifice."
Despite himself, Harry laughs. "That's alright. I'm squeamish."
"So am I," Queenie says, leaning in like it's a secret. "My sister—" She points out another woman, with darker, straighter hair and a clipboard in her hand, "—Tina, the one of there, she's the alpha's second and she's never been squeamish a day in her life. When she was a pup, she would find roadkill and drag it home with her. Mom and Dad spent months convincing her to stop. We may be wolves, but we have standards."
"And she's fine with you sharing that?"
"What Tina doesn't know won't hurt her."
A little laughter, and Harry's shoulders are looser than they were a few minutes ago. Tina may be the alpha's second, but he can bet that Queenie has her own role in the pack. She's good at it. Harry welcomes it; anything to become more comfortable with joining a pack again. It's hard on the psyche, being a lone wolf, and ever since moving here Harry has listened to the calls of the pack and wished for more.
Queenie introduces him to Tina first, then it's chaos as Harry is introduced to each and every member of the pack. There are so many of them. Mostly families, but some couples and singles as well. None of them pry too deeply into Harry's past. When Harry is pulled into a group of children determined to welcome him with flowers in his hair, he doesn't resist very hard. He loses track of Queenie at some point. After a while, the kids run off to play rabbits and wolves—for some reason, a fight breaks out over who gets to be rabbits—and Harry finds himself with a moment to himself.
It's not a long moment.
He's soon joined by another man. Tall, dark-haired, handsome. Even if Harry hadn't done his research, he would know this man is the pack's alpha. Percival Graves. It's in the confident way he walks, the way the pack gravitates toward him both consciously and not.
"What do you think?" Percival asks, coming to a stop beside Harry. He hands Harry one of the two bowls in one of his hands. It's some kind of stew. It smells hearty. Perfect before a run.
Harry means to say good or you have a friendly pack or anything else that doesn't make him sound like he's ungrateful to be here. Instead what he blurts out is, "It's been a long time for me. I have no idea what to do."
"How long?" Percival asks. It's a question from an alpha, even as gently as he says it. He may not be Harry's alpha—Harry's not sure yet, won't be sure for a long while—and it's been a while since anyone has asked.
"Five years." Harry looks down to avoid seeing the surprise cross Percival's features. "I know. It's not healthy to go that long." He takes a bite of the stew, then another. "This is really good. I'm not broken or anything. And I wasn't kicked out of my old pack."
"I know." Percival motions to the empty picnic table nearby and Harry follows, eating all the while. As they sit down, Percival adds, "I ask Tina to do research on all prospective pack members. She tells me the relevant details and I evaluate her findings."
"So you already know everything." Is that better or worse, Harry wonders. They're sitting on the same side of the bench, not close enough to touch. Not that Harry wants to. It's all back and forth inside his head, the newness of being near a pack again and Percival's determination to be that attractive.
Percival shakes his head. His eyes are kind. "Just a few hard facts, nothing more. If you want to tell me your story in your own words now or in a decade, it's up to you. This isn't a job interview. You're already welcome in my pack. We take all kinds here."
"I know. I did my research, too," Harry says, managing a smile. "You accepted the survivors of the Collins pack after they were attacked by radicals. And you're publicly accepting of any gender, sexuality, and the rest." Not guiltily at all, he adds, "I asked Seraphina about it."
Percival looks oddly delighted. "Is that why I got a strange call from my former alpha this week to look after my new pack member?"
"Your potential new pack member," Harry corrects without any bite to his words. His first impression is good enough that he knows he wouldn't mind going for a second and third impression. And it's not all Percival's good looks.
"Then I will do my best to convince you to stay." Percival nudges his own bowl of stew toward Harry. "You look hungry."
There's no order to eat, so Harry accepts it. From all accounts, Percival isn't a traditionalist, which is good. Harry wouldn't have joined his pack if here were the last alpha on earth if it meant putting up with traditionalist megalomania. "Seraphina was my mom's mentor back in the day—at university, not within any kind of pack structure. Mom was happy in the Potter pack." Harry distracts himself for a moment with the taste of the stew, then just forces himself to say it. It won't change anything. Percival already knows. "When Pettigrew turned on us, on his alpha, only a few of us got a way. My parents died that night. I lived with my godfather after that. He died too. I've been on my own for a while. I don't like it, but I can do it. It's comfortable. I don't have a good track record of keeping alphas. They keep dying." Harry swallows. "I know that's not on me. It's just stupid bad luck."
"You'll learn soon enough that we don't let one of our own down without a fight. You're welcome here, Harry, bad luck and all. I can't promise to always be able to protect you, but I can try."
As resolute as Percival looks, Harry still has to dissuade him. "I don't need anyone to protect me. I just want to run with a pack again." To be a part of a pack, he wants to say. He can't get it out. It feels shameful, like a betrayal of his parents' and Sirius' packs. But he needs more than the lonely moons he's had for years.
"Then you'll have it," Percival promises. He reaches out to Harry and Harry takes his hand. It's less of a handshake and more of a grip, a hold. Harry's heart skips a beat. It's the wrong time entirely for that. "Will you run with me tonight?"
Harry takes a breath. He's more sure of his answer than he was an hour ago. "I think I will. Do you think you can keep up with me?"
"I can," Percival says, all confident and easy, but without a hint of swagger. "And if I can't, I have a few tricks up my sleeves. I know a few shortcuts."
Harry tries and fails to keep the excitement from his face. Evening has begun to fall. He can feel the moon under his skin. "I can't wait."
They run together that moon amidst the rest of the Graves pack. Harry may be faster, but he doesn't try hard to get away. Under the full moon, with his fur out, Harry's human emotions are left at the back of his mind. All he knows is the exhilaration of running with a pack. Young wolves pounce in his tracks. An older wolf cleans his muzzle after Harry ends the night grabbing a snack from the meat laid out for them in the clearing. When he falls asleep, he does so curled against Percival's side.
The next full moon, there is no hesitation in his step when he approaches the clearing.
And on the full moon after that, he and Percival shift back at dawn to roll around in a different way. It's a big forest. Harry nips at Percival's skin in human form, just as appreciative of him as a human as he is as a wolf. Harry hadn't expected to find happiness in another pack, but then he hadn't planned for Percival Graves.