Amaryllis

2

They take him out behind the house, to the middle of what looks like a failed attempt at a garden. Harry's a bit cold, and he wonders what the precise reasons for taking this outside are.

"So," Liam begins, looking so perky Harry wants to punch him a little, "as far as we know, you haven't transformed yet. The changes are going to take a lot longer to set in if you leave it be, and it could be dangerous to let the wolf control you, so. I'm gonna teach you how to transform back and forth."

Oh.

"Um," Harry says. He looks uncertainly at the first person in his line of vision, who happens to be Niall. The only reassurance he gets from him is a thumbs-up. "Okay."

Liam motions for him to come closer. While Harry tries to make his way to him without falling into a hole, Zayn hot on his heels, Niall gives them all a wave and heads towards the house. "Reckon I'll leave you guys to it, then. Good luck, Harry!"

"Wait—not that I—I mean, aren't you going to help as well?" Harry stutters.

"I wouldn't be much help, mate," he laughs, genuinely amused.

"Why?"

Niall raises an eyebrow, "Because I can't grow fur on command?"

"Oh, you mean you're not—"


"Nah. 'M, like, a hunter, I guess. I'm supposed to be on lookout for these terrifying furballs and shoot them if they're up to no good, but. Well. You know.”

Harry doesn't, but he nods to show he understands. Somewhat. Niall is supposed to kill werewolves; he hangs out with them in the middle of the night instead. Nothing difficult to understand there – it seems very much like Niall, from what Harry's seen of him so far.

Once Niall is gone, Harry is left alone with two werewolves. This is now his life, apparently.

He can barely make out two silhouettes standing in the garden with him. The moon, stars and lit up windows are the only real sources of light this deep in the forest.

"Ready?" Zayn asks, again in that soft, gentle tone of his. Harry reckons he probably isn't, and never will be.

"Ready," he nods anyway. "What do I do?"

Liam shrugs, "Just let it go, really. Try to close your eyes and relax a bit, imagine—I don't know, imagine something wolfy."

One of Harry's eyes, already closed, opens again. "Are you sure you know how to do this?"

Zayn snorts and steps closer, light painting yellow shadows on his face. "It's been a while since we've had to do this for the first time. Try relaxing your muscles, breathe evenly, then look me in the eyes."

Harry's a little taken aback, but he does what he's told. It takes him a while to get his breath to even out, heart jackrabbiting in his ribcage, expanding and stealing space meant for his lungs. He becomes suddenly aware of every breath of cold air he's pulling in through his nose. Once he feels like he maybe won't throw up if he tries hard enough, he opens his eyes. He's met with Zayn's burning golden gaze.

Zayn's face does have fur coming out of it, some along his jaw and his sideburns, some sprouting around his eyebrows. It makes his face look a little grotesque. There's nothing funny, though, about the teeth Harry can see peeking out, pressing down on Zayn's bottom lip. He looks equal parts terrifying and powerful and Harry gets distracted, trying to see everything, assess and memorise every single change.

"My eyes, Harry," Zayn tells him, voice still kind, still human. Harry startles.

He does as he's told, stares right into Zayn's irises. He focuses so hard the colours start to change, warm gold into a bright yellow, taking on an orange hue and going back. He barely registers when the tingling in his whole body starts, spreading up his arms and down his back like spider feet. It makes him shiver.