Author's Note: The following fic was written for the Wordsmith and Beta's one-shot competition. For this month's prompt was "marriage law" and I naturally chose my favorite pairing to explore in a slightly unorthodox fashion. It's not my trope of choice but it was fun to try something new. For those that want to read more of Millicent and Fenrir's story, I recommend checking out my on-going story Savage Heart. =)
The Law of Wolves
By Clementine Mack
I do not love thee!—yet thy speaking eyes,
With their deep, bright, and most expressive blue,
Between me and the midnight heaven arise,
Oftener than any eyes I ever knew.
– Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton (I Do Not Love Thee)
"We don't have to do this, Millie," Blaise said, searching Millicent's distant expression for some hint of what her thoughts on the matter could be. But her eyes were like the deep sea, fathomless and full of mystery. She was watching the rain fall against the window's surface, the trails of water pooling down the glass in fractured patterns. Outside, the afternoon sky was lit afire by strikes of lightening. Millicent was transfixed.
The pair were sitting in the Zabini family library but Blaise knew his friend's mind was really somewhere else altogether. More than once since she had come to live with him it occurred to Blaise that there may be no crossing the cavern that had grown in their friendship. She was a world apart from him.
"I know," Millicent said faintly. There was a long silence between them.
"You were matched with plenty of other blokes," Blaise said but she cut him off.
"But none of them are you," she replied with a small smile, finally turning to the young man. He could see her pain for a fleeting moment before she hid it behind a mask of feigned playfulness. "Besides didn't we always say we would end up married anyways?"
"Yes when we were eleven," he said flatly. "Things have changed since then."
And clearly they had. Prior to the Battle of Hogwarts Millicent had disappeared before the start of their 7th year. She had pledged herself to Lord Voldemort who had then given her over to Fenrir Greyback and his pack. He recalled the night they said their good-byes.
Millicent had told her best friend very little of what happened in that time she was gone.
He was not even sure she was still alive until one day she showed up on his doorstep trembling and stained with blood and dirt. She looked absolutely feral and in truth, for her entire first week with him she said very little. Even now, Blaise could see there was something different about the woman he had known since before the Sorting Hat had called them Slytherins.
The Wizarding Family Restoration Act informally known as the marriage law was the Ministry's answer to a mounting problem in a dwindling wizarding population after the war. Some regarded it as a throwback to archaic pureblood rituals, others considered participation, while still in the early voluntary stages, a patriotic duty. The aristocratic pureblood circles had been quick to be the first to offer up their eligible children, out of either appearances or simply because they had suffered the most from low-birth rates.
For their part, Blaise and Millicent had been indifferent to the prospect of marriage itself but the idea lent itself some advantages. Both wanted to maintain a level of social decorum but for different reasons.
"You still haven't told me why you want this," Blaise pressed. "You abhor the institution of marriage"
"And you abhor sex with women," Millicent replied cheekily. "Why should either of these details matter?"
"So that's it then? We will just do whatever it takes to keep up appearances?" Blaise asked with a raised brow. He knew what he gained from their arrangement namely some relief from his parents about marrying a girl of 'good standing'. What remained hard for him to decipher was what his friend benefited from it.
"We are quite good at that sort of thing," Millicent said. It was true she wore the ornate gowns befitting a woman of her stature, fine jewelry adorning her neck and ears, she even agreed to wear the Zabini heirloom ring as her engagement ring at her soon to be mother-in-law's request. Her voice had the practiced air of a true Slytherin princess. But Blaise could see pass the ruse. He saw the wild spirit she kept tamed behind the guise of a wellborn witch. This was the same girl who used to brawl with boys who made fun of her, the type of witch that had no interest in the typical hobbies of other Slytherin ladies. While her peers were grooming themselves for finding a proper suitor, Millicent was craving an adventure.
With others Millicent donned cordiality like a kabuki mask but she occasionally dropped the pretenses with him. If only long enough for Blaise to realize he hadn't the faintest idea who she was anymore.
In truth, Millicent didn't know who she was anymore either. The labyrinth of secrets and memories that occupied her mind sometimes felt like a lonely prison. She was still reframing her identity as an adult in the Wizarding world, a place she had essentially left at eighteen-years-old. Although she did not dare say it aloud, she missed the simplicity of living with werewolves among other things.
I wonder if I will ever feel at home in this world again, she thought as she left Blaise behind in the library room. She wandered down the vacant hallways with nothing but the sound made steady click of her heels on the marble floor echoing in her stride. It seemed like a lifetime ago she had pledged her fidelity to Lord Voldemort and consequently order to live with the werewolves. It had felt like a death sentence at the time. She remembered the cold march through the forest trees, silently treading behind Bellatrix Lestrange with the solemnity of a young woman going to meet her fate.
She was to be the proverbial lamb to wolves. Except the meeting she made was not the one she had imagined. Fate, rather, took the form of a fierce wild man who stole her heart. Nothing was ever the same again the night she met Fenrir Greyback.
Suddenly, she was struck by the memory of his captivating blue eyes and that devilish grin.
Millicent's heart squeezed in her chest at the thought of him and the sensation nearly took her breath away. She panicked and quickened her pace until she found a set of doors that took her outside into the garden. She exhaled hard as she crossed the threshold, letting the violent rain pelt her body.
She removed her shoes and stockings until there was nothing between her bare feet and the earth. Millicent closed her eyes and invited the drum of the storm to drown out the chaos of her mind.
Run, keep running, a voice deep within commanded. Find him, find him, find him. It was the wolf begging for a release. Suddenly her skin felt very warm and when Millicent opened her eyes their once sea blue hue had shifted to a bright amber. She could feel her wolf side rising to the surface, it's magic a part of her.
She quelled the urge to follow the tug of the creature's instincts knowing that any search would be in vain. Fenrir had disappeared after the final battle at Hogwarts. Although many presumed he was dead, she knew better.
Oh how she loathed Fenrir. It was a hatred born of heartache, a pain that only seemed to grow with time.
Millicent would have sensed her mate's death. Their bond was still intact, their magic intertwined whether she wanted it to be or not. But after nearly nine years of searching for him she reached a very difficult conclusion to swallow: Wherever Fenrir had gone he most surely did not want to be found.
"MISS!"
Millicent blinked, turning to see a very shocked trio of house elves peering at her from the doorstep. The one that had called to her ran forward and grabbed her hand, tugging her inside to dry warm interior of the Zabini manor.
"Miss Bulstrode shouldn't be standing outside in a storm!" The wide-eyed creature exclaimed with a worried tone. "Get very sick she will."
Mililcent nodded absently, glancing up at a mirror hanging in the hallway. She was a mess. Millicent observed as the amber shade of her eyes seep back into their normal color, the wolf inside her retreating from the surface of her conscience. One of the house elves guided her back to her room, taking away her wet clothes to be cleaned.
As she changed into a fresh gown she couldn't help but look down at the faint bite mark on her arm, the silver outline of marred flesh serving as a reminder of the secrets in her closet. The mark was but of many scars on her body that had grown faint with time, all telling stories of battles won and lost.
At dinnertime, Millicent joined Blaise along with his parents and a handful of the older couple's friends. The dining room was an extravagant hall with gilded wallpaper and a charmed ceiling that housed painted clouds and cheeky cherubs that moved through their landscape on feathery wings. Millicent sat beside Blaise in mostly silence, nodding and smiling along with whatever inane conversation the other individuals were participating in.
I am going to need more wine for this charade, she said silently to herself as she took another long sip from her glass.
Abruptly she was forced to engage when Mrs. Zabini's friend, an elderly witch by the name of Matilda Hitchens asked her a question.
"Pardon me?" Millicent asked when she realized she had not been paying attention.
"We were just discussing the recent werewolf attacks that are going on in the north. Dreadful business, wouldn't you agree?" Mrs. Hitchens asked with a scrutinizing look.
"I wouldn't know much about it ma'am," Millicent answered. "Who knows the whole truth."
She knew most reportings of werewolf attacks were misreported, whether out of political motivation, Department of Magical Creatures corruption or simply ignorance. When a werewolf attacked it was typically out of self-preservation or retaliation. At least that was how it had been when she was a pack alpha.
For the sake of staffing off the argument, she did not say this.
"But isn't it true you lived with those creatures?" The old woman said, "Surely you can testify to their savagery?"
"Quite frankly, I don't think you know the first thing about them," Millicent said with a low deadly voice.
The rest of the dinner guests grew very quiet as the tone of the room shifted. Millicent made a carefully exercised motion as she set her glass down, fearful that her billowing rage might cause her to shatter it with her bare hand.
"Out of respect for what my betrothed has suffered, we refrain from asking her about such things," Blaise said and gave Millicent an intervening glance. For her part, Millicent hid her seething anger behind a demure nod as if to appear that such a line of questioning was difficult to withstand.
Seemingly satisfied with this response the old witch went back to her conversation with Mrs. Zabini about the latest collections at Madam Malkin's. Meanwhile, a feral side of Millicent spent the rest of the night imagined cutting the old woman's throat.
That night Blaise escorted her back to her room down the hallways of the ancient manor. "I know there things you don't want to tell me," the young man said eventually when he knew they were out of earshot of his family and their guests. "We have been best friends for so long and obviously a lot has happened but… I hope you know I will always be here for you, Millie."
"I know," Millicent said and gave him a tight hug. "I am so lucky to have you."
And in that moment Millicent almost wanted to tell him everything. About Fenrir and their pack and all of the events that lead her to his doorstep. She could sense Blaise's hurt at being shut out and she wished things could go back to the way they once were between them.
But something held her back, perhaps it was the weight of the words or the wolf instincts she now possessed that told her he wasn't one of them and that he would not understand the world she belonged to now.
When Millicent laid down to sleep that night she was greeted by the same dreams that always waited for her eyes to close.
She was standing in the dense forest that she had once called home. It was summertime, the air pungent with the scents of wild flowers woven in her plaited hair. Millicent had traded her heavy winter cloak for a soft gauzy dress, bare feet stepping over fallen trees and the mossy grass of the forest floor.
At the end of the long and winding path, he was standing there. No matter how many times she revisited this moment each and every night, the sight of her lost love still took her by surprise. In her dream, Fenrir looked happy as he extends his arms to embrace her. But even as she knew what happened next (because it always happened in this particular scene of the dream)—she ran to him as fast her legs could take her.
Just before she reached him, he was suddenly gone and the peace of the forest was replaced by the smolder and ash of Hogwarts afire. She was standing in the chaos of the final battle as the bright lights of spells crackled in each and every direction. Her white summer dress was now stained with ashes as she struggled to get her bearing among deafening noise of the war waging on around her.
She was nearly taken out by a hex aimed at her by some Gryffindor girl. The name escaped her but as she raised her wand towards Millicent again Fenrir darted across the corridor and struck her with a lethal swipe. Partially shifted between forms, the werewolf didn't hesitate to take out the young woman that had threatened Millicent's life only a moment ago.
Millicent wasn't close enough to help when he was thrown from the window by the force of a spell. She screamed out in desperation but there was nothing she could do as he plummeted into the darkness of the night.
She woke with a start, clutching the sheets in terror as she bit back urge to sob. She was afraid that if she allowed the tears any freedom she might never stop crying.
"Lumos," she whispered as she picked up the wand by her bedside. A soft glow emitted from the tip of it. Millicent looked around the room to see that it had indeed been a dream, a ritual she had developed after so many times of revisiting the same dreadful scene. Outside her window she could see the hint of sunlight rising across the hills.
I survived another night, she thought to herself.
Survival was something Millicent was quite accustomed to. In the animal kingdom it was survival of the fittest and among the werewolves it was just the same. But really this life as an aristocratic witch required its own set of survival skills as well. Strangely, this was one of those areas that Millicent preferred pack life . Fighting for one's rank and hunting for meals in the harsh wilderness was more comfortable for Millicent then the social customs of mingling with the pureblood high circles.
Millicent had been awake for several hours by the time the rest of the residents at Zabini Manor rose for the day. While she waited for others to join her for breakfast, a House Elf delivered a letter.
"What's this?" She asked the peculiar little creature.
"An owl delivered it this morning for Miss Bulstrode," it squeaked in reply. Millicent nodded, surprised to be receiving any mail at all. Since her return to civilization the young woman had kept mostly to herself. It wasn't as though she had many friends prior to her departure from the Wizarding world. But she was intrigued by the black matte envelope all the same and saw that it was in fact addressed to her.
When she turned it over she recognized the embossed seal of the Warrington family crest on the envelope fold. She opened the piece of mail to find an extravagant linen paper invitation:
MISS MILLICENT A. BULSTRODE IS CORDIALLY INVITED TO THE WARRINGTON FAMILY MASQUERADE BALL, HOSTED BY MR. AND MRS. CASSIUS WARRINGTON. THE EVENT WILL BE HELD AT THE GRAND MERLIN HALL ON OCTOBER 12th.
BLACK DRESS ROBE ATTIRE. RVSP BY OWL NO LATER THAN SEPTEMBER 25th
"I see you got your's too," Blaise said as he sat down beside her. A house elf brought them both cups of steaming hot tea and a plate of fruit. Millicent plucked a grape from the plate and ate it.
"I haven't seen Cassius in years; I didn't know he had gotten married," Millicent replied, remembering the Slytherin upperclassman. He had been a bit of slow-witted boy but an impeccable Quidditch player.
"They got married this past year actually," Blaise said, "you are going to laugh when you hear who he married."
"And who is the lucky lady then?"
"Pansy."
"No bloody way!" Millicent exclaimed in shock. Blaise laughed while telling her to shush. They both knew such language was not acceptable among high-born wizards and witches and they both knew his mother would have a conniption if she heard Millicent cursing.
"But they absolutely loathed each other in school," Millicent said with a conspiratorial whisper, although they both were aware that when it came to match-making personal preferences were of little consequence to purebloods. "Like I think Pansy would have preferred even Gregory Goyle over Cassius."
"Well funny you should mention that. Rumor has it that when her family heard about the marriage law coming into effect they quickly had her tested to see who she would best match with," Blaise said. "You know, to see if there was any advantageous matches."
"Naturally," Millicent said with an eye roll.
"It gets better. Her results were in fact Goyle, as well as that Weasley prat and a very lively mandrake."
"That's not funny!" Millicent said even though she couldn't help but laugh.
"Quite frankly I think her and the mandrake would have made it work."
Millicent was still laughing when a slow smile appeared on Blaise's face. When the witch could finally contain her giggles, she raised a questioning eyebrow. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"I haven't heard you laugh in a long time," he replied. "It's nice."
Millicent had been embarrassed to admit that Blaise was right. She hadn't laughed in ages. She was thankful for her dear friend. Even though she felt continually out of sorts walking amongst wizards again, he kept her grounded.
"I don't know why you would want to wear something old," Blaise said as they sifted through one of his mother's enchanted closets later that day. They were inside one of the abandoned rooms at the Manor used to house Mrs. Zabini's collection of dresses and jewelry. As a lifelong socialite the older woman had amounted an impressive collection of couture gowns, dazzling robes and dresses from all around the world
"Vintage is all the rage, dah-ling," Millicent said with a mocking drawl. In truth she had no desire to go shopping at Diagon Alley although it was not for lack of money. The Bulstrode vaults were still in her name and with that her family's mass fortune. "Besides every girl in Slytherin dreamed of seeing your mother's famous closet back in the day. Don't act like you aren't having a smidge of fun."
"I'm not," he said flatly.
Millicent chuckled as she disappeared into a sea of dresses hung in alphabetical order, first by designer then by season. Mrs. Zabini was nothing if not well-organized. She let her hands run across each garment as she took in each texture and pattern. Millicent was deep within the labyrinth of the closet when she heard a rustle of movement. Assuming it was Blaise hiding with the intent to startle her Millicent a knowing smirk crossed her lips but as she turned the corner her smile immediately fell.
There was blood pooling on the floor, flowing towards her slowly in a sickening river. Fenrir's vacant dead eyes stared back at her, unseeing. She let out a gasp and stumbled backwards. His handsome face was broken, pale and covered with bruises. She screamed in anguish, her emotions overriding her ability to reason that it surely couldn't be him.
Even her heightened sense of smell which told her that it wasn't real couldn't convince her mind of the truth of what she saw in front of her. Upon hearing her, Blaise darted through the cavernous racks of clothing until he came upon her collapsed on the floor with her eyes tightly shut close.
Blaise quickly retrieved his wand, shouting "Riddikulus!" at the image before them. Suddenly the body of Fenrir Greyback disappeared into the form of small puppy. It barked playfully before slinking into the shadows. The wizard helped her to her feet while silently cursing the Boggart, making a mental note to call for pest control.
Millicent didn't say a word as she tried to collect herself. For a long while they simply sat in silence side by side. In all their time as friends Blaise couldn't recall ever seeing her cry, not even at her mother's funeral or when Bellatrix took her away to be thrown to the werewolves.
Werewolves.
Blaise hesitated with what he wanted to say. He had never asked her about her time with the werewolves but he had gleaned some awhile now he had fought between wanting to give his friend privacy but he could see how her past tormented her and she was far too stubborn to seek any help. It wasn't until seeing the Boggart's manifestation that Blaise realized that Millicent's past may be more complex than he had imagined.
"Millie, about the Boggart…"
"I don't want to talk about it," she said and waved off his concern. Millicent straightened her posture, trying to regain her composure. Blaise could tell she putting up her mental wall again and he was going to lose his chance.
"I know you don't," he said. "But as your friend I think you should. Whatever it is, I can see it is slowly killing you."
Millicent said nothing.
So Blaise decided to fill the conversational void. "I thought at first that the werewolves tortured you. In fact when you were sent away it kept me awake at night thinking you were being hurt and I was too much the coward to even save you."
"Oh Blaise…" Millicent said but he cut her off.
"You were always the brave one, Millie. But now I realize that's not what happened at all, right? Because what I think is really you found your home out there. It's why you didn't return to us after the war. And Greyback," Blaise said, pausing before he asked. "You loved him didn't you?"
And it was the question Millicent wasn't sure she was prepared to answer. She looked down, hands fidgeting with the hem of her blouse because she couldn't commit the words to reality. "Something like that," she murmured, still unsure she was ready to fully acknowledge the pain in her heart. Was it loved, as in past tense? Or did she still love him.
It was a particular detail Millicent hadn't yet decided but she felt it didn't matter. The object of her affection had disappeared from her life.
Millicent took a deep breath before leveling her gaze with him. "There is something I want to show you."
Even without a calendar, Millicent could tell what phase of the moon lit the night sky. It called to her like it did with everyone one of her kind. It's magic mingled with her own and the weight of its power grew stronger and stronger until the evening air felt like it was buzzing with an energy so heavy it felt nearly tangible.
"You haven't explained what we're doing out here," Blaise said. They were standing in a clearing, the distant lights of the Zabini Manor shrouded by an army of tall trees.
Millicent smiled. "You will see in a moment, just promise not to panic."
And before Blaise could inquire further Millicent's skin was suddenly glowing under the light of the moon. She inhaled and doubled over, breathing through the sensation overcoming her body as it transformed. The sound that erupted from her throat wasn't human, a piercing howl carving into the night like a knife. Millicent's dress laid in shredded pieces, the witch gone and now replaced with a large ethereal creature.
The wolf standing in front of Blaise was black but under the bright glint of the moon he could see it wasn't a true black but rather a deep auburn tinged with red. Her eyes were glowing amber from the magic of the transformation pulsing in her blood. Slowly the glow faded from her eyes.
"Merlin's beard," were the only words that Blaise could summon in his amazement. If he had not seen her transform before his eyes Blaise wasn't sure he would believe that the creature in front of him was actually Millicent. "It's really you, isn't it?"
She stepped cautiously closer, nodding her large canine head in silent acknowledgement.
"Wow," he breathed in wonder, but Millicent in her current form could also smell his fear. Thankfully, Blaise was far more curious then he was afraid. "Not what I was expecting a werewolf to look like at all. It's a good look for you. Just…please don't bite me."
The wolf playfully bowed to signify she meant no harm to her slightly bewildered friend. Millicent felt happy in her skin for the first time since the last moon. The freedom of her wolf form left her feeling light, released from the cluttered thoughts that plagued her.
But suddenly something tugged at her senses and demanded her attention. The canine's ears perked forward in full alert as she tried to focus on what it was that had piqued her interest. A small gust of wind from the east carried with it a faint scent. The familiarity of it made her tail twitch, her instincts instructing her to follow it. Her human rationale typically took a back seat on these moonlit evenings but tonight it argued for her to ignore the call.
It's not him, it can't be him. This voice tried to assure her. But the wolf was louder and with only a quick parting glance to Blaise, the shewolf took off in a prenatural speed into the night. She ran as fast and as far as her four paws would take her, stopping only every so often to sniff the air. It was him. It had to be him.
The desperation in her stride carried her for many miles before exhaustion halted her completely. The wolf collapsed, letting the wet earth cool her. She whined, feeling frustrated by the aimless chase. She had been searching for him for years and wondered if perhaps her heartache had tricked her senses this time? Had she finally been driven mad completely?
Yet the thread that bound the two souls together still vibrated and for the first time in a long while it felt as though he were near.
She could feel him. But then, where was he?
As the moon waned and prepared to leave her night sky kingdom, Millicent let out a booming howl and the sound echoed for a while. If you hear this, my love, please let me know, was what it said.
Shortly after, in the distance Millicent was sure she could hear a faint howl in reply saying only this: Wait for me.
"It's actually a bit clever, my dear," Blaise remarked as Millicent exited her room wearing her attire for the masquerade ball. She donned a gorgeous ball gown that had been hand-embellished with ornate obsidian beading along the corset-fitted bodice. The entire outfit had been accessorized with a black lace mask and a complimenting crimson cloak. "Although I am pretty sure little red riding hood wasn't a werewolf."
"And who's to say she didn't have a few secrets?" Millicent said with a wink and they both laughed.
Blaise offered his arm and no sooner did she take it were they whisked away by Side-Along Apparation, reappearing on the footsteps of the Grand Merlin Hall. Couples all around them appeared, each of them walking inside with eager anticipation. Millicent became nervous at the sight of so many unfamiliar faces and she resisted the urge to flee from the scene.
Sensing his friend's discomfort, he patted her hand reassuringly. "We don't have to stay long, Millie. But it would be good for appearances if we at least attended."
"I'm fine," she said and arms linked they walked into the ballroom where the lively party had already begun. The host and hostess were at the door ready to greet the arriving guests and as Blaise and Cassius shook hands, Pansy's eyes shot open wide with surprise at the sight of Millicent.
"MILLIE!" She squealed in delight. "I cannot possibly believe it's you! Oh how I have missed you so much darling!"
Millicent reciprocated the warm greeting with a mustered smile, "Pansy you have not changed one bit."
"Ah but I have!" Pansy exclaimed as she extended her hand to display the large gaudy diamond ring on her finger. True to Pansy's nature, it seemed to matter less that she was married to a boy she had despised in school when such marriage had given her a very expensive ring. "And I hear you and Blaise are next! I expect a wedding invitation!"
Their conversation was cut short by the next arrival of guests entering the hall. The hosts properly distracted, Blaise and Millicent made their way into the expansive ballroom. The mirrored ceiling was slightly disorienting at first as the orchestra played and the sight of dancing partners reflected on its surface.
"Shall I get us drinks?" Blaise offered.
"Yes, please," she answered hastily. As Blaise left Millicent wandered into a throng of people, nodding politely in greeting to the fellow masked party guests. She was grateful she didn't recognize anybody. Nor did anyone seem to know her for the matter, which meant she was absolved from much social interaction.
She made her way to the patio, breathing in the cold refreshing air as though she had been starved for oxygen after only a brief moment inside.
"You never much cared for parties." Millicent's heart stopped at the sound of a familiar voice breaking her peace, "are you waiting for the big bad wolf?"
She spun on her heel so fast she nearly knocked into the last man she expected to see at the ball. Or anywhere for that matter.
"That's a really cheesy pick-up line," she said faintly but lost track of her words as she fully realized the vibrant azure eyes staring back at her belonged to Fenrir. For so long she had only her memories and the nightly dreams to remind her of what he looked like. But standing before her now in the flesh and blood, it felt as though Millicent was looking at a ghost. A mirage. She expected him to disappear if she dared to blink.
"Hello love," he said with the slow cambering smile that even now made her knees go weak. He gave a gentlemanly bow but the gesture seemed foreign. Millicent's heart was racing even as her mind denied his existence.
I must be going mad, she thought and couldn't find the words to speak. There was a flash of emotions vying for their place in her mind: shock, anger, joy.
"Is it really you?" Millicent eventually whispered, still reeling.
He was dressed in fine linen robes, his blonde hair pulled back in a plait. Despite the difference in attire, Fenrir looked just the same as she had always remembered him. He took her hand and kissed it, "it is."
"What are you doing here? Where have you been," she asked, bombarded with an onslaught of questions that needed to be asked.
"I am sorry I kept you waiting for so long," he said.
"That's it? That is all you have to say for yourself?" She snarled. The wolf within her raged, fueled by the intensity of her emotions. Millicent had imagined their reunion down to every minute detail for years but now it felt strange.
Mostly because it didn't feel even remotely real.
"You will have to do much better than that, Fenrir." She said and the other werewolf's smile faltered.
"It wasn't easy for me to stay away," he said, "but I had to. I had to keep you safe. After the war it wasn't just the ministry hunting me but enemies far worse…"
"Save it, it doesn't matter now. I am getting married at the end of November," she said defiantly. "I would have preferred a bit more time for preparations but this marriage law business-"
"The laws of wizards have no bearing on us," Fenrir interrupted matter-of-factly. "We are wolves, the pack code is our law."
"To hell with pack code, you abandoned me. I was your mate!" She replied. All the pain she had kept inside boiled over now.
"You still are," he said quietly. Millicent said nothing in return. "How long do you think you can carry on pretending?" Fenrir asked, tilting his head with mock curiosity. "A few months? No, you are stubborn. Probably a couple years if you have the will for it. This isn't where you belong. It will only be a matter of time before the forest calls you home."
"The only home I ever needed was you, Fenrir," she snapped with tears in her eyes. "And you left me."
"It was for your own safety," he repeated and reached to brush her tears away. She closed her eyes, pressing her cheek into the palm of his hand. Millicent realized that she had nearly forgotten the feeling of his rough skin against her own and it felt like a rock in the pit of her stomach.
And instantly Millicent knew she had already forgiven him because she had forgiven him the moment her eyes had laid upon him.
His lips were on her own and it was like his kisses seared away the suffering she had endured waiting for his return. She melted into his arms while her hands raced up underneath his shirt, seeking out every inch of him like fingers on a familiar map. The wolf within her recognized her mate and demanded more of him.
They broke apart, breathing heavily. Fenrir had his arms around her still and she could see the same wanting ache in his eyes.
"Come with me," he said.
Even though she wanted nothing more to do so Millicent shook her head, "There is still something I have to do first."
"Where will you go?" Blaise asked after Millicent explained. They were standing at the edge of the forest again, just like they had the night she revealed herself to him. The wizard was both confused and concerned, visibly afraid for his friend's well being.
"I don't know," she said and he could see there was peace in her expression that had not been there for some time. "But that's alright."
"I will miss you, Millie."
"I will miss you too," she said and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "You deserve to be happy, Blaise. I don't think I ever told you that but it is very important you know. Please promise me you won't settle for less?"
"You mean you won't stick around to see the scandal when I tell mother I prefer blokes?" Blaise said with a smile. They laughed and he added "I promise" before giving Millicent a tight squeeze.
"It feels like the night you left to live with the werewolves all over again," Blaise admitted.
"It's not the same, Blaise," she said gently. "I am finally going home."
And so it was like in her dreams, Millicent walked down the forest path just as she had done so many times before. Fenrir was at the end of it, waiting patiently for her.
Only this time when he finally held her there was no letting go.
Millicent was free.