Chapter Six

Everything happened so fast that before Hermione was really aware of what was happening—even of her own actions—she was somehow behind Fenrir, Frigga in her arms, as she stared wide-eyed at the werewolf's back.

Draco had drawn his wand at the mere sight of Fenrir Greyback, at first unnoticing of the baby, then his brows pinched in confusion. Sooner than she could realize his bewilderment had caused him to hesitate, Hermione had backpedaled from the door, placing herself directly between the werewolves and the path of any potential spell strikes. Fenrir had reached down over her with one arm, depositing Frigga into her hold, and scooted her behind him with the other—so that the combined action appeared a singular, fluid movement.

The wizard was visibly trembling—whether from fear or rage or a mix of both, she couldn't be wholly sure which it was—by the time Hermione collected herself enough to lean to one side, peering around Fenrir's protectively outstretched arm to look at Draco.

Draco's gaze flicked from her face to Fenrir's, and back, before he managed to speak. "The bloody hell is going on here?"

"Draco," she said, her voice shivering a little. The tension in the room was so thick, she thought the air pressure might just be enough to flatten her hair. "Let me explain. This is all a massive misunderstanding."

"I'll say!"

"Please, don't be snarky right now. Please, lower your wand and listen before something goes wrong and someone accidentally hurts the baby!"

At the reminder of the child's presence, Draco gave himself a shake. Shifting his attention to Greyback, unblinking, he lowered his wand, but kept a tight hold of it, his knuckles white with his grip.

Swallowing hard, Hermione nodded. Stepping out from around Fenrir—despite the low, whining sound of protest he made in the back of his throat—she placed herself between the two males. Frigga, who'd pressed her little face into the hollow of the witch's shoulder during the commotion, was still cradled in her arms.

"I wasn't lying just now when I told you someone came to pick up the baby . . . . Her name isn't Elora, I only said that because at the time I didn't know her name and it was the first thing that came to mind. But it's Frigga . . . Greyback. Fenrir is her father."

His eyes wide and his expression unreadable, Draco said, "What?"

Taking a chance, Hermione said, "Frigga? Can you show Draco everything's okay?"

Plucking her little face from Hermione, the baby looked up at her. Hermione gave her a smile and nodded toward Draco. With that, the adorable little thing pinned Draco with those enormous dark-blue eyes of hers.

And sputtered that bubbly giggle of hers.

His brows shot upward at the baby's response. The baby who by rights should not be able to recognize what had been said to her so clearly at her age. Shoulders slumping, he asked, "Is this the part where you tell me it's a long story?"

Hermione winced. "Yes."

Fenrir cleared his throat as he stepped around Hermione to scoop Frigga from her arms. "I think we'll just go in the other room and be . . . not here for this."

Well, now that the person she was sending them out of the flat to avoid had been plunked into the middle of everything, there was little point in making them leave. Biting into her bottom lip, she waited until the werewolves had disappeared into her bedroom before returning her attention to Draco. He was pinching tiredly between his brows. "Hermione Granger," he started, her name hissing out from between clenched teeth, "what have you gotten yourself into this time?"

Her frame drooping a little, she gestured toward the sofa. "Thank you for being willing to listen. Let's sit down."

Nodding, he moved on stiff legs to follow her across the living room. He didn't loosen his grip on his wand until roughly ten minutes into what turned out to be a half hour long conversation.

Draco was disturbed, but sadly not at all surprised to learn of what the Dark Lord had forced Fenrir to do during the War, though it didn't fully stamp out his fear of the werewolf. He listened, his expression again unreadable, as Hermione explained how she'd stumbled across Frigga and what her logic had been behind not telling him the full truth.

He could hear it in her voice, see it in her eyes, when she spoke of that little girl, how much Frigga meant to her, already. Understood her rationale that reporting Greyback to the Ministry would only endanger Frigga—baby werewolf? Their Magical Maladies Research Department would have a field day at the poor infant's expense.

Still wasn't sure how he felt about any of it, but he supposed this was classic Hermione Granger. Compassionate to a fault. But then, if she weren't, well, her, she certainly wouldn't have given him a chance after everything he'd put her through during their school years.

She was seated facing him, her chestnut eyes wide, her brows pinched together so tight the expression looked painful as she waited for his response.

With a sigh, he reached out, clasping one of her hands between both of his. "Hearing all of that, I can't say I'm happy you kept something so big from me, but I understand. I can't say I'd have wanted you to know the truth were I in your shoes. Not if I thought the truth might get you in trouble."

A half-grin curved her lips. She wished this could stop right here, with his patience and understanding. But she hadn't told him about her lineage, yet. Hadn't gotten to mention Frigga's bite.

"There's, um, there's more. I'm, um, I'm bonded with Frigga." She sighed, shaking her head. "It means pretty much what it sounds like. The connection between her and me is very strong, and it's causing me what, by human standards, is an abnormal amount of pain to consider being separated from her. Long story short, it's a werewolf thing. And, well . . . last night was the peak of the full moon. She shifted, and there was an accident." She held up her bandaged hand.

Draco choked out a sound of shock. Hermione's comment about her bond with Frigga being a 'werewolf-thing' didn't fully register on him. "The baby bit you?"

"Like I said," she started, she didn't feel good about mixing a lie into all this when she'd just come clean, but she couldn't tell him Frigga had bitten her on purpose," it was an accident. Anyway, whether or not I'll turn is something that will only be obvious when the next full moon peaks. Look, I'm telling you this to prepare you for the decision I've made. You're not going to like it, but I knew the moment I chose to do this that I'd have to be wholly open with you about it from the beginning. You see, I—"

"You're going to let them stay here, aren't you?"

"I know its madness on the face of it, but with the bite and Frigga—"

"No, no. I . . . ." He sighed heavily. "I'm not happy about it, but in a way, it makes sense. Greyback would know the signs. He knows what to look for, how to tell if you're going to change. How to . . . help you. God, I can't believe I just said Greyback and help in the same breath." Draco shook his head, letting out a snicker. "Not at all happy about it. He will be on the sofa, yeah?"

Laughing in a mix of amusement and blessed relief, she slapped his shoulder. "Of course! You want to move in, too, for the month to make sure there's no funny business?"

She'd meant it as a joke, but the words seemed to hang in the air between them. Their expressions sobered as they stared at each other. Neither of them had mentioned such a step before, that it would come up as a side-effect of the entire baby-werewolf fiasco unexpectedly turned a magnifying glass on their relationship.

"I just might take you up on that," he answered, his whisper a bit breathless.

"How the bloody hell do these things work?"

Hermione snapped her attention toward her bedroom at Fenrir's disgruntled half-bellow. Meeting Draco's gaze, she couldn't help but laugh. "I should probably see what that's about. Leaving a werewolf with Muggle baby supplies is a recipe for disaster, I think."

Draco's brows shot up, imagining Fenrir Greyback covered in a cloud of baby powder. "Yes, I think it just might be."

The couple got up from the sofa and crossed the flat. Upon arriving at the bedroom door, they found Frigga giggling and turning all about and playfully scooting herself around the bed . . . diaper-less, as Fenrir sat on the floor, the package of disposable diapers in his lap. One diaper was stuck, half-open, to his sleeve, as he delicately tried to open another, apparently considering the one on his sleeve a lost cause.

"Oh, my . . ." Draco said, trying to hold a snicker.

Hermione, however was not quite so covert. She openly laughed as she stepped into the room. "You're just hopeless, you know that?"

Fenrir frowned, shaking his head as he watched her pluck the diaper from his sleeve and climb up onto the bed with the wriggly baby. "Says you. I was perfectly fine in the woods, thank you very much!"

Hermione shook her head right back, though she didn't bother to look over her shoulder at him. Instead, she focused on getting Frigga's little bum covered while she said, "Says you! She prefers these to the cloth ones!"

He folded his arms across his chest. "Hmph."

Laughing, the witch sat up cradling the baby to her. "There. All better, yeah? Here." She slid off the bed to sit beside Fenrir and placed Frigga in his arms. "I do believe your father wants to have a word with you about cooperating during diaper-changes, young lady!"

"I was wrong."

Frowning, Hermione turned to look up at Draco still in the doorway. He shook his head. "I can't do this." Just like that, he disappeared from view.

"What?" She shot to her feet and hurried after him.

Catching up with him as he reached the front door, she slipped her fingers around his elbow. She forced him to turn and look at her. "Draco—?"

"I thought I could do this but I can't, okay?" He clenched his teeth, giving her an angry once-over. "I won't do this. Playing house with werewolves? No, Hermione."

Swallowing hard, she shook her head. "What? I . . . I don't . . . . What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I'm not going to stand for this, Hermione. They go or I do."

Hermione was so shocked at his declaration that by the time she even opened her mouth to respond, Draco was out the door. She'd expected him to be angry. She'd expected him to not understand.

She hadn't expected him to force her to choose between them. How had this all escalated so quickly?

"Maybe it's better if we do go."

Jumping at Fenrir's voice behind her, Hermione pivoted on her heel to face him. "What?" He wasn't holding Frigga just now, she could only assume wiggle-bum was in her cradle.

Sighing, he shook his head. "You only made the offer an hour ago, and already us being here is turning your life upside-down." Shrugging, he took a step closer. "So, we'll go. And I'll just come back with Frigga in a few weeks, you can visit with her while I check for signs of the curse taking effect."

Draco storming out like that, the idea of not seeing Frigga for weeks, hell, even the hint of disappointment in Fenrir Greyback's amber eyes, combined to make her feel like someone was trying to tear out her heart. Sniffling, she wiped helplessly as her eyes as tears welled up. "No! No, no! You can't go, too, please! I don't want to be alone. Don't make me be apart from her, please!"

Fenrir held up his hands in a placating gesture. Sweet Merlin, female wolf-bonding was a terrifyingly powerful thing! "All right, okay. We won't go but . . . oh, bollocks." A heavy, almost growling sigh rumbling out of him, he closed his arms around her. For the second time that day, he let the witch bury her face against his chest as she sobbed.

Not that he really minded, per se, but he wasn't exactly sure what to do aside from simply standing there as she got the emotional display out of her system. Strangely like he was being held hostage . . . by a petite witch who wanted nothing more than to be a mother to his daughter.

His life had become unexpectedly odd in a short period of time.

After she'd calmed, he slipped his hands over her shoulders and peeled her off of him with some reluctance. Holding her back enough that he could meet her gaze, he said, "Can you keep an eye on Frigga for a few minutes?"

Hermione only now became cognizant of her arms around his waist. She wasn't sure when she'd gripped her fingers into the fabric of his shirt over the small of his back, but she didn't feel inclined to let go just yet, either.

"Of course I'll watch her, but where are you going?"

Wincing, he extracted himself from her embrace entirely. "Don't worry about it. I promise I'll be back shortly."

She didn't trust the lack of information, she also wasn't stupid. This obviously had to do with Draco, but she knew she had no way of tracking the wizard, herself. If he was so angry, there was no telling where he'd go to blow off steam. Fenrir, on the other hand, had his canine sense of smell to lead him.

She did, however, trust that Fenrir wouldn't hurt him.

"Okay," she said, agreeing again as she waved toward the door.

Draco uttered a sound of shock as a hand clamped down on his shoulder and pulled him backward around a corner. By the time he had his wand drawn—in a Muggle neighborhood, fine thing that was!—he found his back against a wall, fingers pressing into his shoulders in an iron grip as Fenrir Greyback glared down into his face. At least the corner he'd been pulled around was the mouth of an alleyway, so no witnesses to stumble across them easily.

Draco breathed out a noise that was nearly a growl as he rolled his eyes. "What the hell? Greyback, get your hands—"

"Get your arse back there and make this right with her, you selfish little twat."

"I hardly think my relationship with Hermione is any of your damn business!"

A faint, sour twinge wound the air. Frowning, Fenrir tipped his head to one side as he held Draco's gaze with narrowed eyes. "You're afraid."

"What? No I'm not!"

"How daft are you? You can't hide fear from a bloody werewolf!"

Draco clamped his lips shut.

Clever little shit. Fenrir knew Malfoy was wagering on the werewolf not hurting him because of Hermione. Smirking, Fenrir leaned back a bit, shrugging but not lightening his grip in the slightest. "Okay. Don't tell me. I'll just go back, tell her I tried to reason with you to talk to her, and you ran with your tail between your legs. How's that sound?"

"Fine!" God, he hated that Greyback had him figured out. "I can't deal with how you look together."

Fenrir's brow furrowed, his look asking the question for him.

Draco gritted his teeth as he dropped his gaze to the werewolf's fingers gripped around his shoulders.

"Oh." Fenrir relinquished his hold.

Clearing his throat, Draco brushed at his clothes, trying to straighten out the wrinkles. "When she was sitting with you and the baby . . . . The three of you together, you looked like a family. You felt like a family. It was just too much."

"You're such an idiot."

Draco's jaw fell slack for a moment. "You can't judge me. You don't know what this is like!"

Fenrir shook his head, folding his arms across his chest—aware his greater height and width over the wizard was even more obvious when he stood straight like this and secretly finding the difference in stature hilarious. "You're an idiot. Do you even understand this? That woman back there loves you. But you know what, you're right! Who'm I to judge, yeah? I'm not the one willing to throw away someone like her because she won't turn her back on a child."

"That's . . . that's not what this is."

"Isn't it?" Fenrir didn't know if he was surprised or just dismayed by Draco's ability to delude himself. "Because her decision has nothing to do with me. It's about Frigga. She would give her life for my daughter, and I think that's what really threatens you. And let me tell you something else, if your reaction is typical of how humans think, then the whole lot of you are stupid. You have someone like her in your life and you're willing to walk away from her? Then maybe you deserved to be alone."

Draco frowned, something in Fenrir's tone giving away more than he thought the werewolf had meant to. "You have feelings for her." It, very distinctly, was not a question.

Once more, Fenrir shrugged, not caring to hide it. "You know nothing about werewolves. Not aside from ruddy textbook knowledge, anyway. Yeah, I do. I've literally had these feeling from the moment I met her, because that's how we work. But I'm not the creature I was back then. I'm not going to just take what I want. Whatever I feel doesn't mean squat if she doesn't reciprocate."

His words forced Draco to think back on that scene of her and Fenrir with the baby. His eyes drifted closed. "That's what I'm afraid of. And I don't think I want to be around to see it if that happens."

Fenrir ran his hands down his face. How the fuck had he ended up talking emotions with Draco Malfoy? This was a weird goddamned day. "Look, I know fuck-all about relationships, but what I do know is that by trying to force her to choose between you and Frigga, all you're doing is ensuring she doesn't see you as something she wants in her life anymore."

"And wouldn't you just love that? Why are you here trying to fix a situation you should be happy about?

Exhaling sharply through his nostrils, Fenrir only thought again how unbelievably thick humans were. "Because this shit isn't about me! Honestly? I'd love nothing more than to scoop up her and Frigga and run back to the woods. But I'd never do that unless I knew that was something she wanted."

"So I need to be okay with this, is what you're saying? I have to be okay with this, even if I'm not?"

Sighing one final time, Fenrir shook his head. Turning on his heel and starting away, he answered over his shoulder. "You better do something, Malfoy, because if you push that woman into a corner, all you're doing is turning what I want into something she might want, too."