A/N: Wow so my month to get this out turned into nearly a year. Insane. I am so sorry for being so slow with this everyone; real life just had a little rollercoaster ride with me last year but I have been writing this slowly but surely wherever I could. It is now complete and I will be uploading the parts every Saturday until it's all posted ;) It's not as long or as dramatic as the first story, it's more an extended epilogue of sorts, a few things that couldn't be included before but that I wanted to explore with you all.
Hope it doesn't disappoint and that you find it worth the wait :) If you have any requests you'd like to see please let me know and I will see if I can work them in.
I do not post my sexual scenes here as I have had warnings before about doing it and don't want my account deleted. I edit the scenes out as best as possible but there will still be adult themes and conversations etc. You've been warned. If you want to read the full sex scenes, please follow one of the links on my profile.
Auribus Teneo Lupum II: Praeditos
Ambivalence
Chapter One
"Centuries ago it's said that a human, a witch fell in love with a werewolf. Their love was such that the prejudice of the world could not stop it. They were drawn together as irrevocably as the sun is drawn down each night to kiss the horizon. But the werewolf treasured her so greatly that he feared what he might do to her by accident – turning the rest of the world on her as it was on him. He didn't want her to become a hunted pariah like he was.
"It was a different world back then. Werewolves were shunned from society, staked to the ground with silver if they were discovered and werewolf packs did not accept humans among them either. Not to be kept apart, the witch merged werewolf and wizarding magic – blood magic carried through her werewolf lover's veins to gift her body with resistance to the werewolf venom..."
"How did the original witch make herself restant?" Teddy asked, stammering over the last word as he always did, currently lavender eyes wide as he lay with his bright pink head on Harry's knee. They were all sprawled in Echo and Draco's den around the warm fire, cushions and furs providing comfort to their odd little group as Teddy, Vilkas and Kirian forced Harry to retell their favourite story.
Vilkas sat with his legs crossed and hand caressing Ghost's fur where he lay entwined with them, Draco's bare feet buried under Ghost's warm underbelly and knees drawn up as he eyed the final member of their regular group warily. The seven month-old with the bright shock of platinum blonde curls was lying on her belly, head and arms unsteady but growing stronger. She kicked her chubby legs out fitfully, trying to look at all of them at once.
"She'll be crawling soon," Draco noted and Harry smirked.
"You say that with such dread," he mused.
Draco's nose, the same perfectly angled nose that the little girl had, wrinkled slightly. "She's a nosey little brat; she's going to get into all sorts of trouble..."
Astrid was already always trying to roll and crawl away, gleefully (knowingly) commanding the adoration of the entire pack. She was stunning, rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed and Harry had to admit she'd gotten a lot of that from Draco, not that he'd ever admit it to Draco himself.
At Draco's words, Kirian, who'd been curled up into Harry's side, raised his head slightly, his darkest auburn hair standing up at all angles just like Harry's. "I help watch her Uncle Draco," he said helpfully, sitting up a little straighter. "I always win at shadows." Shadows, the game he, Vilkas and Teddy played together that involved watching then mimicking the others' movements carefully and then the loser being chased by the 'winners'. Usually it involved a lot of shrieking and tackling each other to the ground.
"Nevermind that, finish the story quick or we'll run out of time before bed!" Vilkas said excitedly, at the age now where babies and girls in particular were the least exciting thing – blood, witches and rituals were much more exciting. Harry smirked and wrapped an arm round Kirian, relishing in the scent that lifted from his son's hair when he dragged his fingers through it distractedly.
Remus and Tonks had asked Harry to have Teddy tonight while they enjoyed a rare evening to themselves. They would be arriving soon to pick him up though. Flicking his wrist, Harry checked the time with a quick Tempus and realised how little time was left before bed. He focussed his gaze on Teddy to answer his question.
"No one really knows everything," he said, "Draco, Snape, Eithne and I have managed to find out the gist of it. We think she mixed her blood with her lover's and somehow used a potion or spell to…seal the venom within her own blood. So that her body would take it in alongside her own to make it stronger, become impregnated with the venom rather than infected by it."
These children would never know the significance of the parallels Harry had drawn between this and the way the sword of Gryffindor drew in the basilisk venom. That was something he was glad of though, even if it would make it easier to understand."After that, the gift was a part of her, her blood, her DNA or whatever you want to call it. Her immunity from the venom allowed her to have children with her werewolf partner and we believe she created a more simplified ritual that shared her gifted blood with others. The same one I was able to use to help Draco and Tonks."
"Have you done it lots? The ritual?"
Harry smiled at Teddy's earnest expression. "Some, in the last few years," he replied. "We haven't made an announcement or anything but you know...word travels."
Vilkas cocked his head. "We haven't had hardly any outsiders come here to ask," he said, brow furrowed. "Do they not know?"
Harry glanced to Draco uncertainly for a moment. How did you tell young children about how some might try and abuse the gift Harry could share with them? How some werewolves might try and force a human counterpart into the life that Draco, Tonks and the partners of a few other pack members had chosen? Dragging his fingers thoughtfully through Kirian's dark auburn hair, Harry settled on, "Maybe they haven't found the right person to share it with or they just haven't heard yet."
They seemed satisfied with this, for now and Harry was grateful. At this moment, Astrid chose to unwittingly play the distraction technique in his aid, rolling off the rug and squealing excitedly as he pulled herself across the smooth floor toward the door. Before Draco could even twitch, Kirian and Teddy had leapt toward her, between them chasing her back toward the safe-zone of the rug area. She shrieked happily. Draco groaned.
"She'll be a terror when she's older," he complained.
Harry's mouth twisted wryly. "Like her mum then," he mused, remembering well how Draco had used the word to taunt him when Kirian was much smaller. Oh, how the tables had turned. Draco had experienced a much calmer, well-adjusted pregnancy and birth than he had. He'd been a bit out of sorts getting fat and having to feed Astrid at first but aside from this, he'd taken it all in his stride.
In private jealousy, Harry had watched him handle everything a lot better than he had. Harry thought he'd even taken to parenthood a lot quicker than him, without the defensiveness Harry himself had harboured at the start. Now, watching Draco with her, it made a little ache swell in his stomach for some reason and he couldn't quite figure out why.
When at last Amoux came to retrieve Vilkas and Draco took Astrid off to bed, Harry found himself in his own den with a sleepy Kirian sprawled across the middle of his and Fenrir's bed, Teddy in his arms as he waited by the floo for Tonks or Remus. Teddy gripped his hand, staring at the slow burn of the flames thoughtfully. "Mum says I'm like you," he said in a quiet voice.
Harry drew in a small breath. No one spoke of it, he hadn't even been aware Teddy knew himself that he carried the recessive gene, dormant just as Harry had been for years until he met Fenrir. Except Teddy's inheritance seemed to be a side-effect of Remus having been on the wolfsbane potion – a lucky, rare occurrence, Snape had said. They were very lucky Teddy hadn't directly inherited lycanthropy and infected her from within the womb.
Remus and Tonks, though fully integrated now in pack life despite the fact that they lived in the village and held up wizarding jobs, seemed hesitant to discuss it. They considered the situation and the severity of the choice that lay in Teddy's hand too much for him. But the silence seemed only to have made him uneasy. Harry squeezed Teddy's hand.
"Did she?" he hedged, just in case. Kids could be so sneaky sometimes.
"Dad never lets me come on the full moon. I wanted to. Mum said I could but Dad says no and... Mum says it's 'cause I'm like you." His little face wrinkled and as he spoke, his obscene coloured hair faded into a messy jet black mop that matched Harry's so perfectly it was startling. He looked up at Harry, confused. "I don't understand. Is it bad?"
Harry moistened his dry lips and eased down onto his knees to meet those bright amethyst eyes. He'd grown so close to this little boy despite their tentative first meeting. He even looked after him on the days Andromeda just wanted time to herself or had other plans. He and Vilkas and Kirian had formed their own trio reminiscent of him, Ron and Hermione. He didn't want to step on Remus' toes but he also couldn't bear to see the self-deprecating fear in those big eyes. He gripped Teddy's shoulders firmly.
"It's not bad, Teddy Bear," he said softly. "You're in a different position to me - you've got your mum and dad to explain this all to you. You should talk to them about it. It's not my place and..." He hesitated. He would have loved to have someone explain his inheritance to him, but that hadn't happened and everything had been so much harder to adjust to. Things should be different for Teddy. "Your Dad just wants you to be able to make the decision when you're older, that's all. It's not like Fenrir or Kirian who were born werewolves, you and Draco and your Mum, you can all choose."
Teddy blinked. "Does Dad not want me to be like you and Mum?"
Harry shook his head. "It's not that Ted, it's...he just wants you to grow up a bit more, understand the world like a grown up does before you decide. Just to be sure, you know? Kids should worry about important kid stuff for as long as possible."
The little boy seemed to think on this for a while, before the fire roared and Remus stepped out, looking tired but content. His eyes were warm as he reached for his son, who leapt readily into his father's arms.
"Thank you, Harry," Remus said, supporting his son's weary head against his shoulder. "I'll owe you for Kirian when you and Fenrir want to take some time for yourselves."
Even though Harry thought Larentia would have something to say about anyone other than her babysitting Kirian, Harry nodded. "Thanks. He was no trouble. Oh – Remus?" he added quickly before the man could step back into the fire. "He, err...he asked about the recessive gene."
Remus froze for a moment, eyes flickering. Teddy wrapped his arms tighter round his father.
"I didn't say much, just...I think you need to at least talk to him about it," Harry said quietly. "He's...worried."
Slowly, Remus drew his wand and flicked it discreetly in the direction of his son, casting the soft bubbling warmth that Harry recognised as a Muffliato. "That conversation is one for the future," he said slowly.
"Remus, I won't tell you how to talk to your son about what he is-"
"Good," Remus said quickly, but Harry wasn't finished.
"-But if you don't he'll hear the wrong information from others. You know what kids are like. He needs to know the truth. He doesn't have to make the decision now but he does need to know. I would have liked to know, growing up, have someone explain it to me."
Remus straightened defensively. "What happened to you will not happen to Teddy," he said and though Harry knew he'd made his peace with Harry and Fenrir years ago, as well as his own inner wolf, there was a tension in his voice, one Harry knew lingered from the years of hating the wolf inside himself. "My son will go to Hogwarts and have the life I was always supposed to and when he is grown, then he can decide for himself."
"But you can prepare him before all that," Harry tried, but seeing the hardness in Remus' face just sighed. "Just think about it, Remus. I know you're only worried he'll throw himself into this life before he's old enough to realise he can never change it but...he needs to know something."
The warmth returned to Remus' face slowly, like a gradually rekindled flame growing in the cold stone darkness. He reached forward and squeezed Harry's shoulder. "Goodnight, Harry. I'll see you for the moon," he said gently, smiling tiredly, before vanishing into the flames.
Harry stood there for some time, staring at the dwindling fire and pondering the tinge of concerned sadness in the man's eyes. Remus had grown so much to accept the wolf inside him, took part in the full moon with the pack like one of them, had no problem intermingling and working with them, joined in with the festivities and let Tonks and Teddy do the same. He even was able to hold a normal conversation with Fenrir now and had long since come to respect Harry's relationship with him. Yet still there was that haunted flicker in his eyes sometimes that Harry thought would never fade. Not entirely.
"He doesn't hate himself any longer," he told himself softly. "And he's healthier, stronger than he ever would have been without the pack. Happier..."
"Living with that self-loathing for so long isn't something he can get over so easily," came a familiar, husky voice from the doorway. Harry turned to see Fenrir sloping toward him with Kirian leaning against his shoulder, mouth slightly open and eyes closed in deep sleep. Harry cocked his head and gave a small smile at the picture they made. He tilted his head more to welcome the touch when Fenrir's coarse fingers slid across his throat in the way they always did, skirting up into his hair and pulling him forward so that his forehead rested against that stubbly chin.
Sighing softly at the relief and calm that swept through him at the touch, Harry closed his eyes. "But it's been five years," he said, but then his insight, his experience was quite different to Remus', he supposed. Even at the beginning, he never loathed his wolf self, only resented the fact that he hadn't been given the chance to choose it for himself. He'd long since made his peace with that. It had been quite different for Remus, growing up estranged from the world, his family, afraid, lonely – suffering those transformations all those years without any support (excepting his marauder years, of course).
"I'm just worried, that's all," he said in the end, discomfited at the way that sounded. Drawing reluctantly back to study his little family though, Harry saw Fenrir watching him with that familiar expression and his own mouth twitched into a reluctant smile.
"I'll set Kirian down," Fenrir said, brushing the back of Harry's neck in that way, so the little hairs prickled up the wrong way, before turning out of the room.
Sprawled on his stomach in his own bed a few moments later, Ghost's head flopped at the small of his back, Harry set his glasses on the side table and stared sleepily out at the softly lit den through the drawn veil around the bed. It was still drifting slightly from the disturbance he'd caused in the air as he'd dropped onto the bed a few moments before and the gentle light from the columns glistened off the sheer material, hypnotising in his thoughtful half-slumber.
"Did he go down alright?" Harry asked half-legibly as he heard Fenrir's steps, then felt the bed dip as he climbed on. Ghost's tail thwumped against the sheets happily a few times, before he stretched off the bed, most likely to do his usual round of the den before he would return to sleep. Harry moved to turn over, but the pressure of calloused fingers at the small of his back stilled him and he craned his neck to look over his shoulder at Fenrir as the man leant against him, stubbly mouth brushing his neck.
Harry's body tightened and he stretched his neck leisurely to allow more of the almost-kisses, breathing lazily into the pillows.
"Like a light," Fenrir murmured against his ear, voice warm and rough. His entire weight was now covering Harry, holding him lightly to the bed, one forearm bracing himself off it so he didn't crush him while the other hand slid into his fringe, tugging it just enough to pull his head back at the angle he liked best. Harry stretched on the sheets, drawing one knee up against his side so that Fenrir could slide between them and press his hips against his backside.
"Busy day?" Harry asked conversationally, teasing, voice hitched with the hot bliss curling in his stomach, tensing deliciously.
Fenrir huffed, but there was an edge of playful amusement to his voice as he replied roughly in Harry's ear; "Same full moon preparations. We'll have it all done early though so we're not all rushing around and pissing each other off when emotions are running high. Not like last month's disaster." He punctuated his words by dragging his teeth down Harry's nape, biting at a shoulder when he reached it. The hand that had been in Harry's hair now skirted down to his chest, teasing the side of his ribs with feathery touches as he worried the mark at the base of his neck.
"It was worth it," Harry breathed, "everyone had a lovely Christmas." His voice was ragged now, low and husky and he had to close his eyes – just for a moment as his hips jutted forward into the rucked-up sheets, seeking pressure. Fenrir gave an approving growl against his mark, lathing the space with his tongue, grating it with his stubble to draw more blood to the surface, make it more sensitive before circling it with his tongue again. Harry gasped and started the slow, regular rhythm of his hips forward and back.
"Lovely," Fenrir agreed roughly, not entirely talking about their festive month, palm sliding down Harry's chest to his stomach, where he scraped his nails gently against the slight hair there. "Lovely..." His mouth grated against Harry's shoulder blade and Harry tried to shift both legs under him. The hand at his belly pulled him back flush against Fenrir so he was forced to remain as he was, one leg drawn up, face down on the bed.
Panting roughly into the pillows, Harry reached back with one hand at an awkward angle to drag Fenrir up into a messy kiss. Fenrir complied without moving the rest of his body. His tongue flicked out to meet Harry's, sweeping against his parted lips and stealing breath before drawing down again, smoothing his mouth against the base of his shoulder.
Things were always like this when the moon approached. They were balanced as equals during the rest of the cycle, both pulling and tugging and demanding as much as the other, compromising. But in these few days each month, they both yearned for the same thing.
"Let me fill you this moon," Fenrir murmured. Through the haze, Harry still knew what that meant. He let his fingers slide down to link with Fenrir's. Harry's only answer was a throaty cry.
"Is that a yes?" Fenrir asked huskily, worrying the back of Harry's neck with his teeth as he shifted on his knees behind him, like an animal eager to rut, like the wolf he was.
"No," Harry whispered, "I'm not ready yet. Hurry up." Words he'd whispered so often.
***CENSORED. FOR FULL SCENE PLEASE FOLLOW ONE OF THE LINKS ON MY PROFILE**
Harry lay boneless and sated, eyes treacherously damp but so blissfully calm that he felt as if he were floating outside his body. It was as if everything had been wiped clean and now he could start again. He closed his eyes. He felt like he could sleep for years and awake to a new age.
This had never happened before though. "Are you knotted inside me?" he asked, cursing the light, unsteadiness to his voice. He still felt dazed, as if seeing things from outside his body. Forehead pressed against the side of Harry's head still, Fenrir nodded, not moving otherwise. He was tense. "What does that mean?" Harry asked.
"I have the wolf's teeth," Fenrir said thickly, voice so quiet and rough it sounded like an animalistic whisper, "and...claws."
Harry tensed. That explained why Fenrir hadn't kissed him again then, he'd been afraid of catching him with his 'fangs'. "This has never happened before," was all Harry's distant, muggy brain could manage. He felt Fenrir huff against his cheek and wondered if their instincts were overcoming them while they were locked together like this and that's why words felt sticky and wrong in his mouth. "Why is this happening?" he asked, still too weak-limbed and sated for the panic to surface fully. Instincts hummed pleasurably beneath his skin. Just right.
"You riled me up," Fenrir scoffed against his neck.
"I've never riled you up before?" Harry asked cautiously.
Fenrir was silent for a moment, uncertainty rolling off him in obvious waves. Harry could taste it. He wished he could turn and look into the man's eyes. He stared at the glistening veil of the curtain around their bed and waited, letting his fingers trace the elongated claws absently. He knew this man well enough now to know when to push and when to be patient.
"It's just nature's way of helping," Fenrir said at last, voice evasive.
Hesitating for a moment, Harry swallowed. "Helping you to get me..." He winced. He still couldn't say it. How could he do it if he couldn't say it? Even after all this time. Draco had been a bit awkward but not as bad as...oversensitive as Harry. He still gave Harry a thump when he even teasingly feminised him but aside from that, he'd been a lot more comfortable about the 'pregnancy' thing. He even seemed to privately relish it. Harry envied him that.
"Why now?" Harry persisted quietly. "We'll have been together six years in a few months. Why now?" The arms around him tightened in answer and the claws beneath his fingers receded – probably the fangs too. Fenrir finally pulled away from him, sliding back to sit up with crossed legs, dragging his hand through his hair in a gesture he'd gotten from Harry over the years. He was carefully avoiding his eyes.
Wincing as he rolled to face Fenrir, still laying down, Harry cast a hasty cleaning charm with a flick of his wrist and stretched his legs out uncertainly. His arse felt loose and abused. He'd be feeling that tomorrow.
"Because I want it so bloody bad, alright?" Fenrir snapped gruffly, glaring at him then, as if daring him to say something.
Harry frowned. Fenrir had been talking a lot about children lately, especially since Astrid had come along. Obviously Harry's tactic of 'ignore it and hope it goes away' had proven a failure. Idiot, he berated himself, pushing himself up onto his elbows and dragging the thick blanket over him to fend the chill away from his damp skin. "It's not that I don't want another one," Harry began, trying not to sound defensive. "I just...it was hard, alright? With Kirian. I felt..." He bit at the inside of his mouth and floundered for words like a fish on dry land. "I've just found myself again," he said softly. "I don't want to lose that."
Fenrir stared at him for a long, fragile moment, rigid in posture, torn between pride and reacting to Harry's admission. At last, the hot defiance in his ice-blue eyes simmered out and his expression softened. He crawled forward on the bed, until he was laying on his side facing Harry, dragging his thick fingers through Harry's sweaty locks in an affectionately hopeless attempt at taming them.
"When you carried Kirian things could not have been a worse situation," Fenrir said gruffly. "It was war, Harry, wizards and werewolves were trying to kill us and you hadn't had time to find yourself, to accept what you were or me or any of it."
Harry winced. It'd never been spoken but it was true. He'd thought perhaps to voice that obvious truth would be a blow to his love for Kirian, but that just wasn't true. He ached. "I love our son," he said in quiet, raspy counter.
"So do I," Fenrir replied, staring straight into his eyes. "But it doesn't change that the situation then was shit. This is... We're comfortable. We won't be at each other's throats because we're afraid or uncertain. It'll be different this time. We can enjoy it like we should have been able to the first time."
Harry sighed, closing his eyes. He'd thought it would be hard to remember how he'd felt all that time ago – but it was so painfully clear in his mind that it shook him. "I didn't know what the hell I was doing when I had Kirian," he murmured. "I just remember being scared shitless. And I know Draco had a bloody breeze of a time but I'm not Draco." He loathed the wavering tone to his voice and was grateful his eyes were closed so at least what little wasn't betrayed by their bond could remain hidden behind his lashes.
Suddenly bristly lips were pressed to his, coaxing the aching self-deprecation from his limbs until he was a limp, sated mess again. Harry sighed, eyes flickering open.
"There you are," Fenrir murmured, voice rough and Harry couldn't help but give a soft breath of laughter.
"Sorry," he replied, abashed. "You know it's sort of...emotional, coming like that. Makes me all rough around the edges."
Fenrir's mouth set but his eyes glittered. "If you really don't want to this time," he said, "or any time, I'm not gonna push you. But if you do and you're just afraid..." He waited and Harry lifted his chin a little, wanting to demand that he wasn't afraid, but he couldn't quite find the lie. Fenrir lifted his eyebrows knowingly. "Do you really not want to?"
Harry's lips part in answer, but before he can give voice to his words, a familiar patter of bare feet and paws sounded on the stone just beyond their room. Harry swore and cast another cleaning charm on himself, Fenrir and the bed. He pushed up just in time to see Kirian parting the curtains around their bed, Ghost behind him, tail wagging sleepily.
"Daddy," Kirian whimpered, rubbing at his eyes, blanket tucked under one arm and dummy in the corner of his mouth.
Harry smiled. He'd thought Kirian's determination to give up his dummy in the daytime had faltered in the evening, but he didn't have the heart to push him. It was just at bed time he snuck it back into his mouth after all and he'd been so grown up wanting to get rid of it himself. He was still so young. "What's the matter Kiri?" he asked, but he already knew the answer. The emotions, the instincts all buzzing around the pack and within Kirian's own young body just before the moon often made it hard for him to settle. He wasn't afraid, just uneasy.
"C'mere," Fenrir said in his usual gruff voice, curling under the sheets beside Harry and holding them up in clear invitation. Kirian beamed around his dummy and clambered up onto the furs, diving between them and curling in the nook between their bodies, head on Fenrir's arm. Ghost spooned against Harry's side and Harry gave Fenrir a wry smile before resting his head on the cushions, sighing as he relaxed in the warmth of his family.
"Alpha always makes it quiet," Kirian mumbled contently, eyes already closed. Harry's flicked up to Fenrir.
"Yeah," he agreed softly, carding fingers through Kirians dark auburn hair. "He does."
Fenrir grunted, mimicking the motion of Harry's fingers through his Harry's own hair, then Kirian, before closing his own eyes. It was his version of I love you, and it made warmth pool in Harry's chest.
As promised, the night before the full moon night, Harry accompanied Draco, Echo and baby Astrid to the next in many attempts of making peace between the pack and Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Well – Lucius Malfoy in all truthfulness, as Narcissa had been won over the moment baby Astrid had been passed into her arms. Harry slid his hands into his pockets as he walked up the long path to Malfoy Manor, Draco beside him. Astrid whined unhappily from her place in Echo's arms. Echo rubbed her back, pulling his coat round her to shield her from the unforgiving January evening chill.
"Sssh, Poppet," he murmured, cradling her close. "I know your granddad is scary–"
"You are not helping," Draco muttered sharply, "if you could go just a few hours without antagonising him..."
Harry thought to call Echo, one of the most laid back and amiable people he'd ever met antagonising in comparison to Lucius Malfoy was a bit rich, but he said nothing. Supportive, he told himself for the hundredth time that night, be supportive. That's what you're here for. Support, distract and buffer...
Looking up at the stars as they walked, Harry wondered how this latest attempt to gain Lucius Malfoy's approval would go. Both of Draco's parents had found his 'choice' and 'lifestyle' hard to take. They'd spent the better part of three years trying to convince Draco he was making a mistake and when Draco had finally undergone the ritual to become like him, Harry, they hadn't spoken for a long time. Harry inclined his head to watch Draco unable to hide a smile as Astrid wrapped her chubby arms round Echo's neck and sneezed directly into his neck. Astrid had built a bridge for the Malfoy family but Lucius was still resistant. It was sure to be a long night, made even longer by the sheer wrongness he felt being away from Fenrir so close to the full moon.
"Fenrir wants to have another baby," he said, before he could stop himself. Draco's head whipped round so quickly Harry swore he heard his neck creak. Echo, however just smiled. Apparently he seemed to know already, but then, he was Fenrir's best friend. Harry felt his cheeks burn and he focussed on Astrid's sweet face as Echo wiped her nose and then his neck with a grimace. Astrid beamed up at him, her little face so like Echo's but topped with Draco's shock of platinum hair. Harry didn't think he'd ever seen a more beautiful little girl. She was a happy, content little baby, so easily settled, unlike the needy baby Kirian had been. Still was at times. She had that smell about her still and Harry wondered, as he saw the way she fitted onto Echo's hip, if he really did want to fight having that again or not. He just didn't know.
"Are we to take it that you do not?" Draco drawled, one eyebrow lifted. "I always assumed you'd want a burrow full of brats like the Weasleys, with you being an orphan after all..."
"So tactful," Echo intoned lightly, giving Harry an apologetic smile before turning it into fondness for Draco. "Say it how it is, why don't you?"
Draco snorted. "Potter and I don't mix words with each other, it's what makes us such perfect chums," he said dryly. Even though they were in fact, quite close friends nowadays. You couldn't spend as much time together as they did without being so.
Harry sighed, looking at the ominous image of the Manor ahead. It was still carved from dark stone and mortar, but now warm lights glowed in the windows and the gardens were filled with beautiful flowers, some night-blooms to welcome them in along the path. He shivered, unable to forget the time he'd been dragged here and tortured. He zipped his jumper up higher around his neck at the shiver that pulsed through his limbs. He swore he could feel the bite of the wire around his throat, even now, hear Voldemort's icy mocking whisper and then Fenrir's gruff tone, cutting through the hissing and beginning everything.
"I don't know what I want," he said at last. "I always wanted a big family, yeah but...that was before I realised I'd be the one having them. Before all that happened. Before Kirian...happened."
"You bloody hyprocrite, Potter. So you were fine imagining your hypothetical future wife having dozens of squalling brats but when you realise it's you that will have them you run for the hills?" Draco snapped. "Since when has being afraid ever stopped Harry Potter from doing what he wants to do?"
Harry glared. "Don't be a pillock," he hissed. "And you shouldn't swear in front of Astrid. She's like a little sponge."
Draco scoffed. "Only my grandmother would consider 'bloody' a swear word," he said with a roll of his eyes. "In any case, my daughter will be a lady whatever she hears, won't you, darling?"
Astrid babbled nonsensically, chewing on her fist.
"Anyway," Harry said, "It's not that I'm afraid exactly. I just...I remember that feeling, not knowing myself, feeling emasculated and I don't..." He saw the teasing banter ebb from Draco's face then and suddenly felt self-conscious, staring ahead at the Manor. It was drawing closer and then he could pretend he'd never said a word on the subject. There never was a sink-hole to suck you up when you needed one most.
"It's not great," Draco replied, uncertainly. "I saw you suffer it and I still didn't realise how...difficult it would be. You do feel feminised somewhat, it's unavoidable but Potter, who is there to judge you but yourself? Our pack, everyone we are surrounded by, they don't think like that, only wizards do. Those feelings are ones that we bring on ourselves, not what others make us feel." He glanced to Astrid for strength, apparently just as embarrassed by this conversation as Harry was. That was always a comfort, that Draco was still as awkward and clumsy with emotion as him.
Merlin help Kirian and Astrid, Harry thought, waiting for Draco to continue.
"But there were good parts, really good parts," Draco said so softly that Harry nearly didn't hear him. "And she's perfect." There was a long silence then, during which Echo's eyes glowed with pride and he rested his chin on his little girl's head. When Draco met Harry's gaze again, the emotion was gone as quick as it'd come and his expression was that of the challenging, amused school boy once again. "I may even truly scandalise Father; break with tradition even further and have another someday."
Harry couldn't help but laugh and the sound and lightness stayed with him all the way up to the front steps. An elf appeared, bowing low and leading them into the house. The hallway was familiar and yet so different to how Harry remembered. Instead of the musky, dank scent it'd carried the first time, now it was full of the aroma of flowers, no doubt the silver lilies that glowed beautifully all around them. He couldn't help but stare as they passed them. The stems looked like they carried gold dust and shimmered stunningly, obviously magical.
The darkness that had clung to every corner had been banished with warm light, yet despite all this, Harry was grateful the elf didn't lead them into the drawing room. He wasn't sure he could face the room he'd been tortured in, his pain and weakness displayed for all to see. Draco must've felt the same, for he kept his eyes firmly on the elf in front of them. His family home held many dark memories. It probably didn't help to ease the mood that settled whenever Draco came here in an attempt to spend time with his parents.
They were lead into a comfortable dining room, large but not outrageously so. Harry thought that this couldn't have been the main dining room, it wasn't nearly as grand as he was sure the Malfoy's would prefer, even in spite of the opulent golds and creams of the decor and appointments. Perhaps the original dining room was another of the rooms in this place that had memories the family would rather not face. Harry smiled tightly, politely at Mr and Mrs Malfoy as the elf vanished, the two of them rising from their seats at the table like marionettes.
"Good evening Draco," Lucius said in that same familiar drawl, leaning heavily on his cane – plain ebony, not the one he'd once carried, Harry noted.
"Evening Father, Mother," Draco greeted, his mask of fragile indifference slipping into one of warmth as his mother approached them, touching her son's face with a graceful smile of her own before reaching for her granddaughter. "Thank you for coming Draco, Mr Bayard, Mr Potter," she said, eyes completely focused on her granddaughter as the little girl squealed delightedly, curling chubby fingers around a lock of Narcissa's hair. "How is my little princess, hmm?"
Astrid babbled back at her and Harry couldn't help but beam.
"You mustn't call Echo Mr Bayard, Mother," Draco winced. "We're as good as married, it sounds odd. Formal."
"As married as werewolves get, I should think, Draco," Lucius intoned as they took their seats at the table, Narcissa at her husband's right, Astrid still wrapped in her arms, Draco at Lucius' left, with Echo beside him and Harry beside Narcissa.
"Werewolves consider mating our version of marriage, more permanent in fact as we're bound for life by blood," Echo explained politely, nodding at the elf who had appeared to fill their goblets. The mention of the permanence of his bond to Draco made Lucius twitch, Harry thought and he hastened to turn his eyes to Astrid, who was staring up at Narcissa with adoring wonder.
"Indeed," Lucius replied stiffly. "But Draco is still a wizard as well, is he not? I would have thought you might honour his heritage as well as your own..."
Draco put his hand over his goblet to stop the elf from pouring wine into it, eyes riveted to his father. "It isn't important to us, Father. We're 'married' in all the way that matters, all except a scrap of parchment filed away in the Ministry. It doesn't make a difference to us. I shouldn't think it would make any difference to what the people that matter think of us." Draco stared daringly at his father, before sipping at his water.
"Some people have names for children born out of wedlock," Lucius said tartly.
Echo sat up straighter, gaze flicking quickly to Draco, who had gone white, lips held in a tight line. Narcissa grasped her husband's arm warningly.
"Let them try," Harry challenged without thinking, jaw set. Lucius stared at him, the way he had that day when they'd first laid eyes on each other in Diagon Alley. "There are a lot of meaningless names thrown about that say more about the one using it than the one it's aimed at," Harry added, remembering Lucius' disdain for 'mudbloods' and the views he'd tried to instill in his only son, views that thankfully he had broken free of after a time. He didn't know how this man could have any arrogance or disdain for others when he was the worst kind of criminal, a backstabbing coward, only kept out of Azkaban because of what Harry and Severus had done for Draco. "I think some people have forfeited their right to cast aspersions on others."
"I should think you'd be grateful that I have stayed out of wedlock and remained Draco Malfoy," Draco said coolly, "that Astrid is a Malfoy."
"It was terribly good of you to accept Malfoy as Astrid's surname," Narcissa said peaceably to Echo, who smiled warmly.
"Bayard is her middle name and anyway names don't really matter to me," he replied. "Malfoy means something to Draco and his family. Just made sense. It doesn't make her any less my daughter. If it makes everyone happy..." He trailed off and Lucius gave a small sound of derision but at last tucked into his starter, which meant that the rest of them could too. The food was delicious, a welcome distraction. Harry longed to keep his eyes on his plate and say nothing, but he knew that was not what he'd been invited for. He was here as a diversion, as back up.
When the elf pushed an elegantly carved wooden high chair up to the table between Harry and Narcissa, he helped her to slide Astrid in and felt some of the tension leave the table when the little girl gave a milky burp, to which Lucius replied gently, "Pardon." For just that moment, Harry glanced up and thought he saw the father Lucius Malfoy had once been. Just briefly, before the mask of the fallen aristocrat fell back into place.
"She has grown so much in the last few weeks, Draco," Narcissa said, dipping the rusk the elf supplied for Astrid into her soup before handing it to the baby, who sucked at it messily.
"Like a weed," Draco said proudly. "She's trying to crawl more and more now..." The conversation that followed was easy and light, one that even Lucius managed to take part in without any malice. Apparently he adored Astrid just as much (if not as openly) as Narcissa and Echo had been right when he'd told Harry that she'd made Lucius and Narcissa's acceptance of Draco's new life a little easier.
Who could hate something that created someone so beautiful, he thought, even if, at that moment Astrid decided to reach out and get his attention by batting his cheek with a soggy rusk-covered hand. Harry wiped his face with his napkin and smirked. She was wonderful. The sight of her, the bliss she brought and the sound of her delighted belly laugh as she reached for him again, only to have her wrist caught by Narcissa's eloquent fingers and wiped clean with a napkin – it all inspired warmth. Narcissa's lips twisted in a wry smile. She looked just as desperate for distraction as he did.
They managed to make it through until dessert with just amiable conversation. Echo had even received a normal response from Lucius when he'd enquired conversationally about his latest foray into raising his own new breed of silver lillies. It was hard to think of Lucius Malfoy of all people getting their hands dirty with manual work, but then, under house arrest for the foreseeable future with no wand, Harry supposed there were few things he could do with his time.
"She's remarkably well-adjusted for an only child," Narcissa said affectionately, staring once again at her granddaughter. "You were a perfect horror, Draco." Her son scowled at this while Harry and Echo smirked into their dessert.
"Kirian's a good boy too," Harry said lightly in Draco's defence, seeing Lucius Malfoy twitch at the mention of his son for some reason. He ignored it. "They live and play everyday with the other pack children, I don't think it's like they are only children, they may as well have half a dozen siblings."
"Yes," Lucius intoned, "How are the Weasleys these days?"
Harry bristled but the slight widening of Draco's eyes made him bite his tongue, just. "Arthur Weasley is undersecretary to Minister Shacklebolt now, didn't you know?" he said lightly, knowing that that truth, the fact that Lucius must know that was better than a slap in the face. "Ron and Hermione are engaged now – Ron is coming to the end of Auror Training, Hermione just got her own office in Interspecies Communications-"
"And what of you, Potter?" Lucius interrupted. "What of your career path? Do you have one in mind? It must be peculiar, with your little friends so successful and you playing house." Lucius gave a small would-be sympathetic smile. "You must have some plan. You can't be content to be a werewolf's housewife like my son."
Anger trickled down Harry's throat like acid. His organs clenched and his fingers tightened around his dessert fork. His lips parted furiously with a response but Draco got there first.
"Enough," he said darkly, voice low, warning, with the same familiar drawl he'd inherited from his father. "That's enough, Father. Are my family and I welcome in this house or not?" He stared hard at his father, but when the man's face pinched indecisively, Draco glanced to his mother for a moment, before demanding an answer from Lucius with his eyes. Harry watched stunned. Why had Draco invited him tonight? He didn't get it.
"You know you are," Lucius said in a sharp voice that still sneered slightly, insinuating with the tone that Draco was an idiot for suggesting such a mawkish thing.
At this the tension seemed to leave Draco's body. Like Harry, he'd probably assumed Lucius' pride would not permit him to admit it, even in such a derisive manner. Now Harry watched as Draco sighed, weary of it all.
"Then for Merlin's sake," Draco began, "Enough, or Mother will come and visit us and I won't darken your doorstep again."
Lucius' irises flared fractionally, his hand tightening around the stem of his goblet. He was afraid, unwittingly betraying just a slither of it, but it was enough. "You mean to blackmail me into behaving like an infant?" he whispered harshly.
Draco levelled a gaze at him. "I mean to not put myself, my daughter or my partner through anymore of your ridiculous little displays. I grow bored, Father. If you do not want me or Astrid as we are now, with all our werewolf attachments then tell me so now, because nothing is going to change."
Harry didn't think he'd ever heard Draco speak like that to his father, ever. He'd only ever witnessed him regard him with respect and no little fear, desperation for approval. So much had changed, the war, Astrid and Echo had changed him. This was the kind of hurt defiance he'd shown that night in the bathroom, that day when he'd helped Harry escape the invasion of the den so he could safely have Kirian. The same kind of stubbornness he had always witnessed personally in Draco Malfoy, set loose.
Lucius seemed as stunned by it as Harry, gazing mutely at his son for a moment, gripping his goblet so tightly Harry feared it may break. Until, at last, he raised it to his lips. He said nothing but there was a small flicker in his eyes for Draco only and his son offered a minute nod, before drinking deeply from his own goblet of water.
"Oh, I forgot to mention," Narcissa said brightly, as if the entire exchange hadn't just happened. In reality, it'd cleared the choking atmosphere almost completely. Harry actually enjoyed his second helping of pudding and Draco even taunted him about it under his breath.
"I finished Astrid's playroom for when you visit," Narcissa continued, "shall we take a look?" They all stood agreeably, before she could reach for her granddaughter, however, Lucius had already come to stand behind the highchair and scooped the baby girl up into one arm. Harry wondered how rare an occurrence this was, for even Echo seemed surprised by it. Astrid herself blinked up at Lucius a few times, before seizing a lock of hair in her fist. Harry flinched. Lucius raised a delicate eyebrow and merely retrieved the strand, before looking to his wife.
"Lead the way, Narcissa," he said simply.
"Why did you ask me to come?" Harry asked as he and Draco lagged behind the small group that followed Narcissa out of the dining room, down the hall and across the large foyer. Draco frowned at his hushed voice but shrugged, eyes fixed on his parents who walked in front, Astrid babbling eagerly and finding great interest in creasing Lucius' cravat.
"Not enjoying yourself, Harry?" Draco mused.
Harry scoffed. "Don't be a tit. Why tonight? Why me? You stood up to him in there, you seem to have made him listen. Why did you need me to do that?"
The smallest hint of colour touched Draco's face. He cleared his throat uncertainly. "It's always you pushing me, Potter, it always has been," Draco said sharply, quietly. Though Harry knew Echo would be able to hear their whispered conversation, it didn't really matter. Draco was speaking again. "I knew if you were sitting right there looking at me, poised to pipe up in my honour or Echo's or your own that I'd...well, I'd have to finally do something. You leak defiance and obstinacy like a bad odour."
Harry blinked. "Did you just imply that I smell?" He demanded.
"Do concentrate, Harry," Draco said impatiently. They were nearing a door made of pristine oak, gleaming silver/white. "You push me. Just knowing that you're expecting me to stand up for what I believe in rather than sit there like a pathetic child afraid of disappointing his Death Eater father."
"You stood invited me along because you thought I'd think you were pathetic for letting your Dad make you feel like shit? Because you knew you wouldn't let your pride be damaged by me thinking you were pathetic?" Harry asked, confusing hmself. His insides were starting to clench uneasily. He hated being away from Fenrir and Kirian this close to the moon. It just didn't feel right.
His life was filled with excursions beyond the life he shared with Fenrir. Over the years he'd even managed to try and teach himself some restraint when it came to his over protectiveness of Kirian too (arguably not enough, but some). There was just something about the instincts the moon awoke that just made him want to be as close to them as possible though.
"Weren't you worried Echo thought you were pathetic?" Harry asked softly.
Draco smiled. "He's seen the worst of me already and he hasn't thought badly of me."
"And I haven't seen the worst of you?" Harry challenged wryly.
"Ah, yes, but he adores me in spite of it," Draco mused, genuinely smiling now as his mother pushed open the door to the grand playroom and led Echo and Lucius inside.
"I like you well enough in spite of it," Harry said.
"Goodness, don't let's open that pathway so close to the moon, Potter. We have reached the quota on 'feelings' this evening," Draco drawled, still smiling as the followed the others into the lavish playrooom. "You know how the instincts play up the emotions."
Harry smirked and looked over just in time to see Lucius setting Astrid down in front of the most beautiful rocking horse (unicorn, actually) he'd ever seen. The sight of Astrid's little fingers reaching to snag in its stunning silvery tail that trailed on the carpet next to her made something in his throat catch and he knew Draco had noticed. The observant shit.
"It's quite alright to be afraid of something and want it at the same time you know," Draco murmured, watching him sideways without turning his head in his direction. Harry froze. Draco continued, "I was a right shit about becoming one of you, if you remember – a brat almost-"
"Almost?" Harry repeated. "I think you literally stamped your foot-"
"In any case, after getting my NEWTs, seeing the world all while allowing Echo to…court me for years, I wanted nothing more than to finally be with him properly – the way you are with Greyback. Astrid, I wanted her to but that didn't mean I wasn't pissing myself at the thought of it all at the same time," Draco said roughly, "the things you want most are often the most overwhelming. Have you still not figured that out yet?"
Harry said nothing for a long time.
To Be Continued…