Perfection in Difference

I don't own 'Harry Potter'

Warning: brief non-graphic allusions to sex and mpreg

Harry leaned back into the bed and groaned, gripping the dark brown hair tightly, loathe to let go for even a moment.

This was insane, stupidity without reason, sheer Gryffindor diving into danger without nary a thought at its finest. There was no thought about what his friends would think, how they would be appalled and feel betrayed at his behaviour. He moaned into the harsh lips and arched up into the massive body above his, feeling light-headed at the physical evidence of the wild man's attraction.

Fenrir Greyback was going to be the death of him, and Harry didn't give a flying fuck.

He didn't want to think anymore, feel hopeless any longer. He wanted to sink back into the rough yet thrilling care of the werewolf and forget every shitty part of his life. Fenrir had committed some truly atrocious acts over the course of his life, but Harry had given up wanting to be good, wanting to be moral and just and whatever else he thought his parents would have wanted.

Was it so bad to want to be taken care of?

Fenrir did that. He held Harry protectively whenever he felt down, cradled his hips as he made him see stars for hours on end until he was panting, sweaty and dizzy, took him places that Harry had only ever imagined before. It was a life of no responsibilities, no manipulations, no patronising reprimanding.

Harry gasped and whined as they finished, breathing heavily as the massive body of the werewolf collapsed on his. He didn't care if the man was heavy and made it difficult for him to breathe. He was there. Fenrir was present, grounding him in reality, forcing him into awareness of their surroundings. The thick furs covering the low bed, the exposed wooden walls, the night breeze through the open window.

They were both there, together, and it was peace at its finest.

Fenrir rolled off slowly and Harry sighed at the glorious ache in his muscles. He closed his eyes and lifted a hand, waving it lazily to clean up before lowering it to his stomach, rubbing small circles as he imagined what was happening inside.

He'd always wanted a family, a true family of his through blood, and the prospect of having one soon, one that bound him to Fenrir was enough to make his breath catch. He didn't have to go back to a crowd of people who considered him a pawn, a mere character in their own plans, he was going to stay right here and build something for himself, by himself.

Harry opened his eyes to see dark eyes tinted with amber watching the gentle movements of his hand, a look of pride and love plain to see. Harry smiled and rolled over to lay on Fenrir's chest, snuggling closer as a muscled arm wrapped around his waist to lay on his stomach. It was warm.

He closed his eyes and relaxed into the clutches of sleep.

It wasn't what he'd expected, but life was perfect.

A/N: Hey guys!

This was requested by namgismiles on AO3 (way too long ago). I know there are a lot of fics with Greyback either being completely misjudged and the victim of propaganda, or a genuine villain of the dark side that people like for that reason, so I figured I'd try a balance of the two POVs. I hope it worked.

See ya later!