Complicated 11

By: I Should Be Sleeping (AKA: Moar Sleep)

Had the situation not been so serious, Joy would have laughed.

Paul had been so focused on the care of his imprint, that once the initial panic had passed, he suddenly found himself cradling an emotionally exhausted Hermione that had cried herself to sleep.

The look of absolute bewilderment on his face was one worth noting and she wished she had a camera. He was so afraid that one minute movement would disturb the tiny female in his arms.

"Paul. You can breathe you know," said Joy.

Paul was so very still, afraid that the slightest twitch would jostle the small woman in his arms. He had never been in this situation and had no clue how to proceed. Despite the amount of people he has slept with, sleeping was not something he actually did. He made a point to get the hell out of dodge once the deed was done.

Now, here he was, holding his tiny imprint after she had a fucking panic attack and passed out in his arms after crying all over him. What the fuck was he supposed to do!?

Joy took pity on the poor boy as he looked so very helpless. "Paul, you are doing great. Just lay her down on her bed and she will be fine after a short rest."

Standing somewhat awkwardly and very stiffly, the large shifter pivoted on his heel and placed the light bundle upon the mattress and eased his arms from underneath her small frame. A noise of protest escaped her lips and Paul almost whimpered, afraid that he had disturbed her, but she thankfully slept on.

"Fucking hell," he breathed out in relief.

A smack with a heavy book on the back of his head caused him to yelp in pain.

Joy smacked him again for making noise and shushed him as she pointedly looked at his sleeping imprint.

Fucking hell woman! He wouldn't have made any noise had she not abused him with the book in her hands. What the fuck was that anyways? Paul's hazel eyes peered at the worn cover of Homer's: The Iliad and grimaced. Of fucking course. He preferred The Odyssey anyways.

Joy motioned for him to follow her out of the room, and he was reluctant to leave. His wolf wanted to watch over his distressed mate and the man in him was inclined to agree. He just imprinted and all he knew about the tiny thing is that she needed to put on more weight, and she kissed like the fucking devil!

He smirked at that. He really was a lucky fuck. He couldn't wait to really get to know that tiny spitfire.

Another smack from a Greek epic poem met the back of his head and he looked at Joy in betrayal. What the fuck did he do now!?

"I know that look Paul Oberon Lahote and get your mind out of the gutter," reprimanded Joy.

Well fuck.

Julia frowned as he heard a frantic knocking sound from her front door.

It was early evening and Paul was due to patrol soon. In addition, he never knocked. If anything, her son would throw open the door and loudly announce his presence before bestowing a kiss upon her cheek.

She really lucked out with her boy. Despite all the strife they had been through, the two were incredibly close and still maintained a strong relationship with one another.

Her Paul was her world, and she adored her son.

"Paul man! Open the fucking door!"

Excuse me?

Throwing open the front door, she met the startled form of one Quil Atera V. His large brown eyes went round as his jaw practically dropped as he realized his mistake.

Julia frowned. "I have half the mind to clean your mouth out with soap and water Quil."

Quil sputtered as he practically shrank under her withering glare. "Um, is Paul home Ms. Lahote?"

"You know his patrol schedule as well as anyone else in the pack. He should just be starting now."

"Uh yea...well... you see... um...uh..."

Julia narrowed her hazel eyes at the large male. She was losing her tolerance with his muttering. "Spit it out Quil."

Quil jumped at the sharpness in her tone. If there was ever any doubt Julia was Paul's biological mother, one look at her narrowed gaze and irritated growl put that thought to rest. She was terrifying!

"Quil."

"Paul imprinted!"

Julia must have heard wrong. Either that or she was having a stroke.

"Her name is Hermione and she's staying at our place."

No. She wasn't hard of hearing and her heart had not given out. She let his words process for a few moments before she realized just what Quil had said.

"My baby imprinted!?"

Quil winced. He was not sure if her reaction was one of shock or excitement. It was hard to tell. Smiling weakly, he nodded. "Yes."

"Shift now and give me a ride."

Quil blanched. "Huh?"

"Don't just stand there gaping! You're much faster than my Prius and I want to meet my future daughter-in-law."

"Um."

Julia was losing her patience. "Strip and shift. NOW!"

"Yes ma'am!"

Quil resigned himself to accepting that the women in La Push were scary as fuck. He sincerely hoped to the Sprits that Hermione did not turn out like them. He didn't think so. She seemed rather chill so far.

Old Quil regarded the large shifter before him stoically.

Paul hated it.

Old Quil had simply settled down in his chair across from him in the living room of the Ateara home and had spent the last three minutes simply looking him over. The old man had not said a word and his face gave nothing away.

It was making him twitch.

"So, you're for Hermione," the Ateara patriarch said finally.

Paul nodded his head. "Apparently."

"How do you feel about that?"

Well that was a loaded question if there ever was one. Paul was still processing that he had imprinted. He had never thought it would have happened to him. Previous imprints had been members of the tribe and he had made a point to stare at every single female in their small community. When that hadn't happened, he assumed that he was not blessed by the Spirits.

At the time, he had not really minded. He wasn't sure what it meant to imprint. He still wasn't quite sure, but he did know that his wolf was far more settled than he had been since he had first shifted years ago.

After a few moments of silence, Paul frowned. "Honestly, I am not sure."

Old Quil let out a snort. "Good."

"What?"

"If you had said something flowery and deep like something you read off a daily motivational quote, I would have smacked you with this steel rod."

Where the fuck did that even come from!? Paul stared at the thick piece of metal situated at the side of his chair in shock.

"Joy keeps it around in case Quil needs to be disciplined. She figures it would work on you as well," said Old Quil with a careless shrug.

Paul reaffirmed his earlier thought. The mothers of this pack were fucking scary.

"Paul. Son. You are a bit rough around the edges, but an imprint is a gift. That girl upstairs is special, and you are blessed. You'll balance one another."

Shifting somewhat awkwardly in his seat, Paul wasn't sure what to say to that.

"Paul!"

Paul whirled around, his eyes growing wide. "Ma?"

Julia was like a whirlwind as she appeared in the Ateara home as if by magic. She made a beeline for her son, arms opened wide.

Paul immediately bent down and sank into his mother's embrace.

This.

This was familiar.

Comfort.

Safety.

Home.

"Oh, my darling boy. How are you feeling?"

Paul shook his head because Old Quil had asked that same question moments ago and his answer had not changed. He was still so very unsure.

Feeling him tighten his hold around her, Julia pressed a kiss to his temple. "It's ok Paul. I'm here. Anything you need, I'm here."

Paul had not realized how much he needed to hear that. Fuck, his mom was awesome.

"So, where's Hermione?"

Quil waltzed into the room, oblivious to the moment as he munched absently on a large bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos.

Old Quil looked to his grandson, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Julia shot him a withering glare that was matched and mirrored by Paul.

A weighty thwack on the back of his head caused him to wince. Staring over his shoulder, he stared at his mother in confusion. "What did I do?"

Still brandishing the heavy tome from earlier, Joy shook her head. Sometimes, she wondered about her only child.

Hermione was startled awake by an incessant tapping on her window. Old war instincts kicked in and she immediately tensed, shooting up in a ready mage battle stance. Her wrist made a sharp motion, the Disillusioned wand holster shimmering into view as the vine wood slid into her firm grip.

Where was she?

Looking at the familiar canopy bed of her room at the Ateara Bed and Breakfast, Hermione peered at the glass to see a small owl fluttering in agitation. Shaking herself from her alertness, she relaxed somewhat.

"Goodness!"

Making her way to the window, she let the cranky thing in. It fluttered his wings indignantly as it stuck out its leg imperiously. His large sulfurous orange eyes peered at her condescendingly and Hermione wondered how something so tiny could look so incredibly haughty.

Gingerly removing the missive, she flicked her wrist to present the domineering little thing with an assortment of treats and meats.

That seemed to be the key thing to do as it suddenly fluffed its feathers in pure pleasure and peeped in a terribly cute way. Had the small lint ball not been so cantankerous earlier, she would have believed his cute little song and dance.

Shaking her head, she gestured for him to help himself. "Please, enjoy."

The pompous ball of feathers made himself at home and situated himself before the spread with all the manner of a King sitting down for a meal.

Hermione unrolled the parchment, her eyes scanning the message before her with growing shock.

Miss Hermione Jean Granger:

Second Floor of Joy's Bed and Breakfast, La Push, Washington

Miss Granger,

It has come to the attention of MACUSA that magic was performed in the presence of a No-Maj at exactly 6:28PM. This warning has been issued ahead of a visit from a No-Maj representative to perform the correct Obliviate charms and to gauge your reason for disregarding our policies.

We appreciate and understand your position within the British Magical Community, but rules must be upheld, and special treatment cannot be afforded. Due to this, the British Ministry has been contacted and a representative from your country will be allowed to be present as we conduct a thorough investigation.

Sincerely,

Stanley Adams Shiverpost

Senior Vice President

Magical Mishap Department (MMD)

Flames erupted from the parchment as it burned to ash in her hands.

The tiny owl only regarded the irate witch passively, before continuing to gorge himself on the delicacies before him.

Hermione stared at the tiny thing. "I am going to destroy that condescending prat."

A small peep met her menacing statement, the tiny owl gulping down another piece of red meat greedily.

AN:

Credit for me posting this chapter so quickly goes to the song from Top Gun by Berlin: Take My Breath Away. I listened to this on repeat and the words just flowed out of me.

Anyways, this was a bit of a transition chapter, but also building on family bonds and such. Hermione and Paul will meet again (with the fam present) and it will be interesting. At least I think it will be. I have not written it yet, so we shall see what happens.

Stan is fucking fucked btw! Boy messed with the wrong witch.

Also I think Hermione might adopt that little owl. Hermione has a thing for hard cases and this tiny owl feels like he will fit in. If you have any ideas for names, lmk! I would love to hear them and I will choose one that sounds the best for this angry bird.

Thanks for reading!

Me