Amaryllis

11

When Harry comes visit the next week, everybody's sitting on the front porch, having a conversation that doesn't look pleasant in the slightest. He stops where he is, ankle-deep in mud and leaves, and almost drops the paper bag of cupcakes he's carrying.

"Oh shit," he says, and all heads turn to him, "It's a bad time, isn't it. I'm just gonna—"

"No, actually," Zayn motions for him to join them, "Li was just about to call you. You should know about this."

Harry steps closer, tentative, not quite sure he wants to know. Niall grabs him by the shoulders and sits him on one of the dirty front steps.

"So, listen," he turns to him, an air of seriousness and authority about him, "there's this family of hunters, right off their nut, everybody calls them the Swifts, nobody knows where the fuck they came from. They did some right insane stuff a few years ago, burned down a few werewolf lairs and the like, and then they disappeared. We thought we got rid of them, but, well—"

"They're back in town," Liam says grimly. "There aren't many werewolves left around here, and if they're here to hunt, they're going to get to us sooner or later."

Harry gulps. "B-but…what about Niall's family? Can't they, like, take you under their wing or something?"

Louis chuckles drily. "The us includes you, Pup. They're most likely to do a search for new werewolves, actually, just to see how many of them they can take out – and no, Bobby does enough for us as it is. No one in their right mind would go up against the Swifts and tell them there are nice werewolves living here."

"For the record, my family aren't like them. We follow the Code."

"Which is?" Harry asks, confused, trying to recall if he'd read anything about hunters in Liam's books.

"Well, basically, if you haven't killed anyone, you're good with us. Dad's thinking of going out of business anyway, so we just go after the rogue ones now. Like the one that bit you, you know, dangerous ones."

Thinking about Niall, always cheerful, excitable Niall, shooting at werewolves with a bow, eyes cold like a soldier, makes Harry shiver unpleasantly.

"I should be on the lookout, then," he says grimly.

"Yeah," Zayn says, "maybe it'd be better if you didn't come here for a while." Hearing him say that hurts, even if Harry knows it’s for his own safety. "So they don't see you, obviously. Come on, Harry, I told you you were welcome here whenever you wanted, and I meant that."

Louis looks up at Zayn sharply, which only serves to help Harry realise that Louis had not been in on that particular piece of information. It makes Harry want to retreat somewhere dark with his tail between his legs; he doesn't want to intrude in their friendships, such beautiful, intricate things.

"He's right," Liam says sadly, "If they're getting back into hunting, this is the first place their people will go. It used to be full of us, there were four packs just on this side of the forest.”

"Four packs? And they killed them all?" Harry asks incredulously, not quite capable of imagining that kind of cruelty.

"They're not playing around."

Harry nods silently, picking at a fraying seam in his jeans. "I'm gonna miss you guys." 


"Harry," Niall says with an exaggerated pout. "We'll miss your ugly mug, too. And the food."

"It's not going to be long, okay? We'll take care of them," Liam says.

"Take care of yourselves first and foremost," Harry scowls at him. "Don't go traipsing into danger just because." To Liam's left, Zayn is watching him with a soft expression, and Louis is smiling into his lap.