tw: Fenrir is his own warning/suggestive themes

Do not read unless you're caught up with The Marauder's Child

Fenrir was surprised when he woke up to find Emma curled up into his side. One of her legs was draped over his, one of her arms thrown over his stomach, and her head was rested on his chest. He mused over his arm being wrapped protectively around her shoulders. Funny how that had happened, but Fenrir was more fascinated by how easily she gravitated to him in her sleep.

Emma was more wolf than she thought sometimes. She was like one of the pups that would come to find him to sleep against. He didn't allow the pups to sleep next to him often, but sometimes he understood the need. His Rabbit was no different. He had realized it in her unasked question that sat heavily in the air between them.

She wanted the comfort of another wolf, had confessed that she often abandoned her own bed to stay near her father. Others wouldn't understand it, they would find it odd, but he understood. It was normal for them; packs kept close together, and she wasn't with the one that she was familiar with. Fenrir might be her Alpha because of her father, drafted into the pack well before she was part wolf, but her mind was struggling to grasp that concept.

Fenrir wasn't deaf to what others said about him, wasn't blind to the confused looks she kept giving him. He could practically hear her thoughts, her worry over the betrayal of what she thought was right, wanting to ignore the call of their kind. Fenrir could see that she wanted to embrace it, but her mind was plagued with her father's thoughts. She especially wanted to ignore the call of their kind because it was him. His reputation was one of murder and violence and evil. That went against everything he knew his Rabbit wanted, but she wasn't grasping the concept of the pack. Light and Dark didn't matter with the pack. If she just learned to accept what he was offering her, what he could provide her, it would be much easier. He would just have to continue to show her with no conditions.

Soleil (Gods, he hated that name – he didn't think the name fit such a beautiful wolf) would be a problem for his Rabbit. Emma wanted to maintain her power; Soleil wanted her to submit. Emma clung hard to her humanity, while Soleil wished to defer to Fenrir's authority. Fenrir wanted both from her. He wanted her to challenge him, but he wanted to own every part of her more.

Fenrir let out a soft growl at the sudden feeling that washed over him, and he tamped them down lest he wake her. He wanted nothing more than to take her right then and there, wanting to force her into submission, but his Rabbit spooked easily. He learned from the first time and didn't feel the need to cause her undue stress when she had enough of it. She would be less than pleased to be woken up in the way he wanted. That was a curious situation in itself; everything about her was meant to take to him quickly, but she fought him at every turn. She didn't want him, but she would learn who she belonged to; he would be sure of it. His Rabbit was his; even the universe decided it would be so. Someday she would be willing, and while Fenrir wasn't a patient creature, he would have to be with her.

With another growl, Fenrir adjusted himself as carefully as he could. He wanted to take advantage of the closeness his Rabbit would never allow for any other time. She felt nice curled up against him. She could sleep for a little while longer before he would wake her in a more appropriate way.

He found his Rabbit more fascinating like this; asleep, peaceful, and unguarded. She kept very high walls up at all times, always had. Everything was approached with wariness, especially with him around, eyes sharp and movements cautious. She watched him as much as he watched her with an air of curiosity, fear, and a resignation that he wasn't leaving. But when she was asleep, the walls fell.

Everything about his Rabbit was soft; sweet voice, smooth skin, soft curves, gentle smiles. He could look at her all day if he could, and he damn near tried.

She was beautiful.

His Rabbit had always been beautiful in her own way, in the before, but he much preferred the after. That was how she referred to things in her quiet, timid conversations with him and Fenrir agreed. There was absolutely a before and an after, and the after was where everything had changed.

Fenrir had been outraged by what led to his pup finally allowing for his Rabbit's change, but he could look past it. The first time he saw her look like a near-perfect recreation of his pup, he was excited. Something about her was suddenly more confident, and he loved the radiance that shone beneath the surface. All that she needed was his contribution, the beautiful lines across her face, and the bites that would always make her belong to him.

While he would have preferred to have done things differently, enjoyed the moment more, he was delighted to make that dream happen. He wasn't planning on marking her when he did, but he had no choice. At least now no one would dare question who she belonged to.

Like this – she was perfection.

He couldn't stop himself from brushing his knuckles against her cheek, smiling at the way her brow furrowed in her sleep. Even in her sleep, she wasn't sure what to think of him touching her, pulling the same reaction she gave while awake. At least while sleeping, she didn't flinch back like she usually did. If she were anyone else, he would relish in her fear, but she was to be his mate. He wanted to keep a healthy amount of fear in her, but she had too much.

Fenrir was silently grateful for his foresight to find out what the moon would tell him of her future.

He chuckled softly at the reminder that his little Rabbit was a skeptic of divination, but that very branch of magic had been what kept him from killing her. She would be alarmed when she learned of that knowledge, but it wasn't time to share that with her. Fenrir would finally explain what she meant to him the moment he had her won over. While he already had an idea of where her thoughts were headed, he would allow her the time he promised. There were only a few more weeks until her birthday, and then her decision could be binding. He wouldn't dare ask her again a moment sooner – it would do him no good to lose her. Not now when he was so close to finally having her entirely as his.

For years, Fenrir doubted that his Rabbit would be worth anything. She was too small, too quiet, not at all what he was looking for. He had his concerns over the damage done to her body from the Cruciatus, something he worked hard to rectify. He knew she was intelligent, she had shown her brilliance multiple times, but he wasn't sure. There was something off that he couldn't figure out.

When she turned eleven, Fenrir was left with a few choices. He could let her live out life as a Muggle or turn her and bring her into the pack only because he spent so much time with her. There was the possibility he could just drop her off at his pup's home and hope he could figure things out. Or Fenrir could kill her.

None of the possibilities were fascinating to him. Letting his Rabbit live as a Muggle would have been a less than fulfilling life for her, but she would live. They kept her ignorant of everything on purpose. The less she knew growing up, the better. With no knowledge of magic, she could have gone on living very unaware her constant companion was a werewolf. She would grow up and forget that he existed. It was a strong possibility. Fenrir didn't hate her. In fact, he had grown quite fond of the once little redheaded girl, but Jude wouldn't have let her live for long.

If he took her into the pack, there was a strong possibility she would have died. There was a strong possibility that she wouldn't survive the turn; most females didn't. Even if she did survive, her small size would pose a problem. If he wasn't interested in her, one of the other males would have their pick of her. There was no way she would survive without him, but he wasn't sure if he had a reason to care.

Dropping her off at his pup's would have been disastrous considering he was an alcoholic at the time, but it would have been a possibility. Hell, in his state, there was a possibility his pup would have killed her, realized what he had done, and killed himself after. Fenrir would have genuinely lamented the loss of them both.

All roads led to an uncertain future and an all but guaranteed death for his Rabbit. At least if he were to kill her himself, he would have been kind about it. He would have felt the smallest sliver of guilt like he always did, but at least she would know she was loved. She wouldn't have even known what he had done – he would have made it quick for her. It was a small mercy compared to what other possibilities she would have been left with.

Still, he was curious. The moon had never failed him once. With a small vial of several very carefully collected droplets of her blood, Fenrir decided to delve into darker rituals under the light of the nearly full moon to see what lay ahead. He had killed enough people that he was sure that he didn't have a soul any longer; blood magic meant nothing to him. Fenrir never expected what was to come.

Fenrir was amazed. He was stunned, startled even, and then suddenly filled with an incredible amount of adoration for the tiny girl he doubted. She was made just for him.

In the hazy smoke billowing from the potion he created, he saw the start of the wolf. It was faint, but he saw it, highlighted in the light of the moon. His name was practically spelled out, billowing into the crisp, autumn air. There was strength, there was brilliance, there was everything he could ever want. Somehow, she was going to change things for him. He saw power, and Fenrir wanted all the power he could ever get. Werewolves were superior over wizards, and the tiny little thing he judged would prove that to the world.

Not quite believing it, Fenrir consulted every possible branch of divination that he could just to confirm it. Tarot cards, tasseography, botanomancy, multiple types of scrying; crystal balls, fire, and water – they all said the same thing. Fenrir learned from Voldemort's mistake with the prophecy with the Potter's; he wasn't about to make that mistake. His Rabbit was his and his alone.

The nearly long since abandoned plan that had been concocted for his Rabbit had changed that night. There was no way he would let her go, but he wasn't telling anyone what he was doing. With his Rabbit, he had all the power he could ever want. She was power. Everything said that he would have to let her go and go to Hogwarts until she was ready to take her place, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. He would do anything for power; he would do anything for his Rabbit if it made her stronger and kept her happy. He would do anything for his incredibly brilliant and powerful mate.

She would be his power, and he would be hers. Fenrir never cared to have a mate again after losing Aine, but he would be damned if he didn't have Rabbit as his. They were going to be unstoppable, he knew it, and Fenrir's twisted into a delighted smile.

He literally held power in his arms, sleeping and unaware of what she was destined to be.

It would be a process, but he was sure that he would be able to convince his sweet little Rabbit to come to his side. She wanted the same thing as he did, even if she denied it. He wanted better conditions for his wolves, and she did as well. He wanted wolves to be feared, but she wanted them to be accepted – one day, she would see why he was right. In the meantime, he could pretend to be a wizard, one with feelings and care and consideration. It was what she expected, and she needed protection for the moment, but one day she would know who he truly was.

She would come to love him for who he was, love him for his strength and ability to get others to bend to his will. One day she would understand what it would mean to be truly powerful. They would be magnificent together. They would even overthrow the Dark Lord's reign when he returned with their pups and army of wolves. Everyone would come to fear them in time, and he would have his pup back. Rabbit would never let his pup be swept aside, and Fenrir delighted at the idea of having his first pup returned to the pack where he belonged. Fenrir was so close to everything he ever wanted that he could taste it. He nearly shivered in anticipation at the thought.

Fenrir gently tipped her head up so he could press a kiss to the spot between her eyebrows. He had to be careful with her – if he forgot who he was dealing with, she might become his undoing. Which reminded him of something he needed to do. Rabbit wouldn't be too pleased with him if he didn't change his plans.

He slipped himself out from underneath her carefully, only leaving the bed altogether once he pressed another kiss to her head. He made his way over to the table, pulling out a fresh sheet of parchment from the stack she had put out earlier that week. An amused smile crossed his lips as he pulled over the quill he had purchased her for Christmas – he was satisfied to see she used his gift.

A sigh escaped his lips as he wrote to Raoul to inform him that the upcoming full moon's hunt would have to be adjusted. He was disappointed, but Rabbit would be much happier with him. He had so been looking forward to sinking his teeth into the little redhead…

Fenrir stood to call for an owl from outside, but another owl flew in with a letter for him. He pulled the letter from the owl's beak, frowning when he saw it was from Raoul. There was something about the urgent scrawl on the front of the envelope that already aggravated Fenrir, and he ripped it open. His mood soured considerably when he read that his wolves were growing aggravated with him and his constant disappearances and were threatening to mutiny. Fenrir couldn't have that, and he was torn about leaving, but he would have to go. He crumpled the letter in his hand and tucked it into his pocket just as Rabbit stirred.

He could tell Raoul the change in person, but first, he had his Rabbit to take care of.