I am so overwhelmed by the response I've had for this sequel. Thank you everyone for your kind words and kudos. I've been working on this so long that I was all worked up about disappointing you. Hope you continue to enjoy! :)
Owl Post in The Valley
Chapter Two
Owls were a common sight in The Valley nowadays. They brought the Daily Prophet to Draco and Harry every morning, as well as regular post from the Weasleys, Malfoys and even Snape and McGonagall. The morning of the full moon day, however, the Hogwarts' owl did not carry the usual grumblings of Professor Snape or even McGonagall's light tittering. The tawny owl hooted balefully as it soared straight over Harry, missing Draco as well and instead squatting in front of Vilkas.
Everything in the breakfast circle went still. Vilkas blinked, shocked and uncertain as he stared at the owl that offered him its leg. "I think it's lost," Vilkas said, confused when the owl hopped toward him on one leg and hooted again impatiently.
"I don't think it is, sweetheart," Amoux said softly, grasping his shoulder with one hand and offering the owl some of the treats Harry and Draco kept nearby at breakfast for their post. Vilkas' face was white as he at last, under his adopted mother's coaxing, reached for the letter with trembling hands. Slowly he pulled open the familiar seal and read aloud, but Harry knew what it said before he began.
"Dear Mr Longstride,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry..." His voice was still soft with youth, awed, excited and terrified all at once. He was so young. Was he really eleven? No, no he was ten, he'd be eleven on August 1st but still; he seemed too young to be heading off to Hogwarts. The first of the pack children to ever attend Hogwarts, thanks to the recent completion of the Ministry reform.
"Well done, Vilkas," Harry said encouragingly, breaking the silence that had fallen. "It's where Draco and I went. You'll love it there. I knew they'd want you."
A smile broke across Vilkas' face. "Really?" He looked down at his letter, then up at his mother. "Is it really real? I'm going to be a wizard as well as a werewolf? Like Harry and Draco?"
Amoux beamed down at her boy and stroked his blond curls. "The best Hogwarts and the pack have ever seen," she said confidently. "Perhaps Harry could help me find all the things on this list of yours, I'm afraid I will be a little out of my depth," she laughed good-naturedly as she took the list of supplies from her son.
"I'll take him if you want," Harry offered brightly, knowing Amoux shied away from wizarding london wherever possible. "I've been meaning to take Kirian anyway, he's got some Christmas money to spend from Mr and Mrs Weasley." Excited, happy chatter filled the circle now and eating resumed. Kirian had wolfed down the rest of his breakfast and bounded over to Vilkas to look at the very important letter. With the official Hogwarts seal so close to his son's hands, Harry wondered what it would feel like when Kirian got his letter. He ached a little at the thought. His little boy who was so sensitive and brave yet needy, who was still trying to give up his dummy at night and yet talking animatedly about Hogwarts and ghosts and 'Kidditch'.
"You miss it," Fenrir murmured from Harry's side, drawing Harry's attention back to him.
"Mmm?"
"That school. You miss it." His tone was guarded.
Harry smiled fondly. "Yeah. It was my first home. I'm glad I get to go back there so often, visiting Snape and McGonagall and all that..." He sniffed slightly. Fenrir didn't smell afraid or tense, just...curious. "She made an interesting proposition to me when I went to see her last week, McGonagall, I mean," Harry said carefully, testing the waters.
"Yeah?" Fenrir asked guardedly.
"There's a crash course for students resitting their NEWT exams starting at the castle in the January term," Harry began, "Hermione and Draco went back right after the war was over, Ron never went back of course, got invited right into Auror Training personally by Robards and Kingsley but...well I wasn't ready to do it all then. We were sorting out werewolf prejudice and learning how to be parents and I wanted...I wanted just to be me for a bit, without worrying about anything else." He remembered those months wrapped up in Fenrir and his baby son without the dark cloud of Voldemort looming over them, some of the happiest, most revealing months of his life.
"But you're ready now," Fenrir said, again his voice giving nothing away.
Harry nodded. "It's every weekday until the beginning of May, then I'll sit my exams with the normal NEWT students," he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, ruffling up his hair as he did so, "I may not even pass them, it's been a long time and everything but I wanted to give it a try. I can't explain it, I just...I feel like I left things unfinished. I want to finish them." And besides that, if he got his NEWTs he'd finally feel like any career he might choose in the future would be one he'd earned with his talents, not with his readiness to follow a sodding prophecy.
"You want to finish school properly, because Targeletum stole that from you, because you want to prove yourself. You want something for yourself, I get it," Fenrir said and while his tone still wasn't biting, it wasn't exactly supportive either.
"So if you get it, why are you pissed off?" Harry asked, frowning. "Are you annoyed I want to go to school everyday? Kirian does lessons with the other kids and Accalia for nearly the exact same hours. He won't lose out and-"
"I'm annoyed because you've kept this to yourself for a week, even when I asked you about..." Fenrir winced and looked around them. No one was listening; they were all still focussed on Vilkas' news, but still Harry cast a hasty Muffliato around them with a flick of his wrist.
"You'd better not tell me you're ticked off about me wanting to finish school because I said no to you the other night," Harry said dangerously.
Fenrir grimaced. "Make me sound like a complete arse, why don't you?" he sneered.
"If the shoe fits," Harry countered, sitting up straighter. "Tell me now, outright, you don't want me to go back to Hogwarts, do you? Why?" They lived a balanced life; though Fenrir was content with the village, forest and valley, Harry ventured out into the wizarding world all the time, by himself, with his friends, with Kirian, so why this? Why now?
"Does it matter what I want?" Fenrir snapped under his breath, "it's not like I'm going to stop you, is it? Go, do what you want." He pushed to his feet and Harry followed, pursuing him to the opening in the Valley that lead out into the tunnels. As the gates closed behind them and the warm balm of the column light filled his vision. Fenrir was still walking. Harry grabbed his arm and Fenrir whirled with a snarl of irritation. Harry glared back, unmoved.
"You can't run from me," Harry said, voice low. "You're..." he hesitated, feeling the throbbing unease between them, pulling the connection taut like a web of elastic. Embarrassed, frustrated, anxious and... "You're upset," Harry noted. He blinked, stunned for a moment on realising that there was no anger or bitterness there. Fenrir had done his best over the years to not let his distaste for the wizarding community stop Harry or even Kirian from enjoying what they wanted from it, but old wounds left scars that ran too deep for even time to heal. Some subjects had remained sensitive and Harry had learned to accept that as part of him.
Because that's what love is, Remus' voice murmured in his head and Harry sighed, releasing Fenrir's arm and leaning back against the wall of the cave. He felt the cool smooth stone against his back through his Weasley sweater and stared at that face, illuminated by the soft light. Blue eyes glowed with it. "I thought we learned years ago that there's no sense in getting defensive and prickly with each other to try and hide the way we're feeling."
He watched as those eyes fill with memories of that day, the day they'd been reunited after Harry's stay in St Mungo's, thinking Fenrir had left him and Kirian there, only to find how wrong he was. To find how guarded pride had been so easily mistaken for negligence. It was the same now, this man building up walls around himself that surpassed even those Harry had once held strong. If it wasn't so frustrating it might have been endearing.
Fenrir huffed angrily, awkwardly and Harry raised a brow before sighing again, cocking his head to the side to expose the line of his throat. You couldn't pound your fists against a locked door and expect it to do anything but remain a solid obstacle. You couldn't fight guarded obstinacy with the same reasoning. Someone had to submit first and just for today, with the moon humming so close beneath the surface of the earth, it was him.
Harry closed his eyes and waited, shivering when Fenrir's stubble grazed his throat. Harry wrapped his arms round him and arched his neck more so the stone dragged slightly against the back of his head. "Tell me," he demanded, voice roughened by the mouth scenting his skin to reassure himself. The fact that only he was allowed to see this all-powerful beast so open, so uncertain only made it that more moving.
"You really don't see it, do you?" Fenrir's voice rumbled as he drew back just enough to look down at Harry's face. "That's the school where Targarletum tried to kill you countless times, where the Ministry targeted you and the people who were supposed to be responsible for you dragged you into a war at fourteen."
Harry winced. "I remember it fine, I'm the one that told you all of it – remember?" Although he suspected Remus, Draco and Hermione had done some 'sharing' as well. He released the man before him and began to walk the tunnels, reassured when he felt Fenrir fall into place beside him. "You realise that I'm an adult now, yeah? I'm not a child that anyone can drag into anything–"
"If that teacher of yours or Snape asked you to do something you'd do it," Fenrir cut across him. "No matter how dangerous. Don't pretend you wouldn't."
"McGonagall would only ask of me what she had to, she wouldn't risk my life on a whim and Snape is almost as irritating about my safety as you. Even if they did ask, I'd do it because I cared about them, not because I had to and anyway I'd..." He paused, half-way through saying 'I'd be careful' when he saw that look in Fenrir's eyes, the one that was filled of that day when Harry had walked in to face Voldemort, knowing he would die.
"It's not the same as then," Harry nearly whispered, still walking. The light of the columns was still bright with afternoon sunshine that warmed them as they moved. "That was the only way. Now it's...it's not war, Fenrir, I'm not the world's last hope and what matters to me most is you and Kirian. I wouldn't do anything that'd mean I'd have to leave you."
It was easier to talk and walk, walking meant they couldn't feel awkward or embarrassed about the mawkish words or their twinned inarticulacy. He felt more than saw Fenrir scratch at his own neck uncertainly though, all the same.
"Even if I know all that," the man grumbled, "doesn't mean I can't worry. I'd never stop you, I know you need to have an...identityoutside of Kirian and me. Outside of the pack. I know you love that world back there." He gestured with mild irritation toward the wall, but Harry knew he meant the wizarding world. He didn't need clarification.
"You worry about me all the time," Harry said lightly, "we have a good balance, don't we? That won't change. Just a few months of school won't make the world end. And after that, even when I get a job I'd still come home every night to this, to our home. I'm not going to get bored of you. I'm not going to find myself some nice young witch and decide I want to leave. I'm not going to decide I want to leave. This is my home, I chose it, alright? I chose you."
Fenrir didn't meet his eyes but Harry thought he could sense embarrassed relief in the warmth pulling between them. He turned his gaze back to the tunnels as they turned again. They were coming toward the entrance. He longed to run, to feel the grass underneath him and the biting January wind. He wondered if Fenrir realised how normal his fears were, his insecurities, how everyone had them to some degree. A man who'd watched his family murdered was not at all out of place for feeling like that. If Harry had to spend the rest of their lives convincing him of it, so be it.
"Why do you never feel like this?" Fenrir murmured roughly. "Are you so bloody confident I'll never leave you?" He sounded almost petulant, almost.
Harry laughed softly. "I have my own demons, I s'pose. I work myself up about other things." Like the cub thing, like every time Kirian so much as got a runny nose. "We all have our...errr...quirks." He got a small laugh out of Fenrir again, but there was still something else. When they reached the entrance where a mask of ivy, vines, moss and rock shielded them from the view of the outside, Harry lay his hand on the stone to stop Fenrir from opening the path. Instead of demanding any answer he just stared, waiting and Fenrir gave a small growl of annoyance.
"It's irrational, there's no point it talking about it," he insisted. "Even I know how bloody stupid it'd sound so drop it, alright?"
Pushing his other hand into the middle of Fenrir's chest, Harry remained silent, waiting, demanding.
Fenrir audibly grinded his teeth together. "It just seems like there's always something, alright? We talk about it and we get close to it and then there's something else that becomes more important, becomes the next thing," Fenrir bit out harshly, all in one breath, as if daring Harry to take offense.
There was no doubting what 'it' was. Yes, it was irrational; it was pushy and so human that it tugged at Harry's insides like a leech drawing on flesh to taste the blood. Harry dropped his hand from Fenrir's chest. "I've never said never," he said, trying not to feel angry or hurt. "What happened last time fucked me up, you know that. Even you knew the timing was bad, that I was too young and too new and too bloody traumatised by everything else. Can you blame me for not wanting to leap into it again?"
"I never said I blamed you," Fenrir snapped. "I haven't pushed you, have I? You pushed for a sodding answer and that's it. That's how I feel – I can't change it even though I know it's unreasonable and selfish and all the rest. I didn't want to talk about it, you did. I know it makes me sound like an arsehole, alright? So let's forget it." He pushed at the stone and the familiar screeching rang through the tunnels. Harry winced, clapping his hands over his ears. Before he could recover from the unsettling vibrating in his ears, Fenrir was gone, darting out of sight into the trees.
Sighing heavily, Harry slowly followed, hearing the rockface close behind him. Panic, anger and bitterness pulsed with each rapid thud of his pulse. Yes, he had been the one to push Fenrir. Fenrir had known his desires were perhaps not the most moral, because he hadn't wanted to hurt Harry. But the fact that he wanted that, the one thing Harry was reluctant to give, the one thing that Harry had been thinking about for nearly a year now…
It'd been on his mind since just before Astrid had been born. Draco's condition had only brought up bitter memories for Harry, but the sight of her, small and pink and wriggling in Draco's arms had made him ache with the need to feel it himself again. He'd wanted it so badly and yet he hadn't dared to admit that in all these months because in spite of that, he was afraid. He didn't want to feel helpless as he had while he'd carried Kirian. He didn't want to feel vulnerable, unbalanced or out of control. He thought he might have lost himself back then if he'd let it overcome him. And perhaps the simplest fear of all; the thought of the wolf pinning him down and taking him again made his stomach turn.
He couldn't do it. It'd taken so long to be comfortable with the wolf, but comfort and acceptance was a far cry from wanting to be...fucked by an animal. He winced and walked faster. As the trees greeted him with familial passes of their branches, he saw Fenrir's trousers and loose shirt lying on the ground. He'd changed as he bolted, which meant he'd probably got further than Harry could get on human feet. Dragging his fingers through his fringe and across his face, Harry shrugged off his own shirt, kicking off his trousers just in time to save them from his own transformation.
Black paws carried him in the direction of Fenrir's scent but when the edge of one of the paths of the river began to run alongside him, he knew where he'd find him. The great silver wolf stood at the place where the waterfall jutted over a cliff-face, the place where Harry had once stood and discovered that he was carrying Kirian, where rogue wolves had tried to use it against him to make him submit. He didn't change, but instead stood there waiting, seeing those ears flicking to acknowledge his arrival even if Fenrir didn't turn to face him.
It was easier to communicate honestly sometimes as they were now, with no human embarrassment or words to get in the way. Because what words could possibly portray his longing and the equally potent fears that prohibited it? There were none.
The silver wolf eventually seemed to grow impatient and turned roughly, glaring at Harry with ice-blue eyes as if daring him to come forward. Harry did, unafraid of the challenge and hesitated for only a moment in front of him, before stepping forward to brush his muzzle against Fenrir's own, against his neck and side, until he was walking a full circle round him to face him once more. When that gaze held him guardedly, Harry cocked his head and let his tail wag hopefully. He didn't want to fight. Not about this, because Fenrir hadn't pushed and couldn't help what he wanted anymore than Harry could help being afraid of it.
Grumbling, Fenrir butted him half-heartedly in the neck and slunk toward the edge of the water. Never knowing when to give up, Harry joined him, countering that huff of annoyance by nipping at the side of Fenrir's neck. Another huff. Harry growled, leaping forward and slamming into Fenrir until they both rolled, splashing into the edge of the water, kicking up spray and dirt. He growled again, play-biting that muzzle until at last it nipped back, flipping them over, momentarily submerging them both in deeper water.
Yelping, Harry dashed out from under him, kicking up water into his face and bolting for the shore. Fenrir landed on top of him with a hard thud, sending them both crashing to the dirt. When Harry felt him stand over him, he wriggled round onto his back until he was staring up into blazing ice blue eyes. A large tongue lapped at his muzzle and Harry shivered as the cool air licked against his damp fur. Panting for a moment, he let the change carry him easily back until he was human again, reaching up to drag his fingers through that soft silver pelt.
"I don't like it when you walk away from me," he admitted, voice low and thick in his throat, a little hoarse with breathlessness. The silver muzzle brushed against him lovingly and Harry pressed his cheek into the touch, gripping that fur tight. Part of living through a war was that even now, every time they parted still sometimes felt like it might be the last time. Hermione still always whispered "be safe" with each parting hug and Ron still squeezed his shoulder a little too tightly before he let go. Harry knew some members of the village joked that he was a neurotic, paranoid 'mother' too. The war's effects were far-reaching even now and Harry hated parting with Fenrir in quarrel, even if it was for a few hours.
He couldn't bear it.
A low rumbling sound reassured him, teeth worrying his jaw gently and Harry slid his fingers up to stroke those ears. He closed his eyes. "It's not that I don't want to, I'm just...I'm afraid, alright? Surely even you can understand why?"
A sharp huff against his neck was his only warning before the wolf drew back and shuddered and Fenrir's mortal face was inches from his own, arms bracing his weight Harry above his head, both of them bare and dripping on the bank of the waterfall's source. "Being afraid is a reason for why you're holding back, but it doesn't have to be an excuse. Unless you want it to be?"
Lost for words momentarily, Harry glanced awkwardly off to the side, watching the water crest and vanish over the edge of the cliff. The noisy rushing crash of water was oddly soothing, as was the warmth of Fenrir's body and the sun's light against his skin, even on the chilly January morning. As if remembering the season, Harry shivered and Fenrir smiled, flicking his wrist with a wordless, wandless drying charm. Before pressing down until Harry could feel him covering him from head to toe. It felt nice, the pressure of the body above him, not suffocating at all. It'd taken him a while to enjoy this again. He sighed, leaning his head into Fenrir's neck.
He was thinking of Astrid's little face, of how different her birth had been to his son's, an example of how his should have been...
Suddenly he ached with such ferocity that he had to clench his teeth to stave off the noise that wanted to bubble up in his throat like acid. He wanted it, of course he did, and fear had never stopped him before but...this was different to facing dementors and dragons and even death.
"I don't want to have sex with you as a wolf," he said hesitantly. "I know when we...when Kirian was...that I came but it wasn't..." They rarely spoke about that night, the night they both couldn't bear to regret either. Fenrir had unwittingly raped him, Harry had orgasmed but he'd not enjoyed it. He couldn't imagine ever doing so. If they had to face that again, but on their choosing this time...
"I think I could wait twenty years, even fifty and I'd still not want to," Harry said at last. "Even if it is part of me. That's not going to change."
Fenrir drew back just enough to stare into his eyes consideringly. "It won't be like last time," he said gravely, brushing his fingers against Harry's jaw.
Harry gave a bittersweet smile and cover the hand with his own. "I just...it feels degrading. I know it's just what we are, but I just can't want to be...mounted by an animal. Even if it is you inside. I can't. How can I get past that? Even if I can handle you pinning me down, if I can get passed the helplessness and the emasculating embarrassment of actually, you know, being...pregnant. Those are things I can handle, to get what I want, but this is...I can't force myself to want it." He could endure it, but he wouldn't enjoy it. He didn't know how to phrase it any better than that.
With a thoughtful sigh, Fenrir rolled off him and sat up, staring up at the gloomy grey clouds that crept across the sun. Harry shimmied back into his clothes, cooler now Fenrir's warmth wasn't there to shield him against the January chill – werewolf blood or no werewolf blood. They didn't speak the entire journey back to the valley. Not even when he flooed with Kirian to The Burrow for lunch.
"Perhaps you could, well..." Hermione flushed scarlet, visibly struggling to find polite words to form her reply to the concerns he'd confided in her and Ron in the back garden of The Burrow. Molly and Arthur were leading a curious but skittish Kirian around the garden, letting him help pick the vegetables for Sunday lunch. It was a sight that filled Harry with warmth, the kind that eased his unsettled nerves. The full moon was tonight. He could kid himself that he would feel better after it was done, but he wouldn't. He knew what would make himself feel better, he was just didn't know how to get it without...
"Perhaps we could try a sort of magical artificial insemination? Perhaps...we could...obtain Fenrir's...ah, sample and somehow get it into you without the need for any..." She trailed off. Never had Hermione looked so lost for words. Ron's ears were beet red and he was peeling the potatoes a little too vigorously. Harry smiled, comforted by his friends. It was a bizarre topic, one they could all probably have done without, but they were trying, for him.
"We'd need to get it off Fenrir while he was transformed on the full moon night, then get it into me, I don't think it'd be possible," Harry said. He tried to imagine doctors approaching Fenrir's wolf with a sample cup, or maybe one of those mounting blocks that they used at horse studs. The image was morbidly amusing, but he didn't think Fenrir would entertain it – or perhaps he would, if Harry asked, but he couldn't. It didn't make sense.
"Not that I can't see why you don't want to," Ron said hesitantly, "I mean...sorry, but it's like fucking a dog, isn't it?" He winced, before ploughing ahead. "But a lot of witches and wizards have to have invasive magical surgery to...you know, have a baby. It's traumatising and unpleasant but they want one so badly they do it." When Hermione flinched, Ron glanced to her but continued. "I'm not saying you don't want one badly enough, I just...you know, you have to weigh it up. Is it worth the struggle to you?"
Hermione slapped his arm, meaning the potato in his grasp slipped and become incredibly misshapen. "Ronald!" she hissed. "Of all the insensitive-!"
"I didn't mean he was being a pansy or anything!"
"Don't you understand? It's not the same as getting over a fear or enduring horrific medical treatment. What happened with Fenrir and Harry when Kirian was conceived was...it was pretty much ra-"
"Shh!" Harry urged her, glancing at Kirian, casting a Muffliato around them. His hearing wasn't as matured as Fenrir's but it was still advanced. The little boy seemed entranced with the dirigible plums Arthur was admiring – the ones they'd received from Luna and planted at Harry's birthday party here last year. They'd grown a great deal. "It isn't the same as overcoming medical trauma," he agreed softly, "but it is something I have to conquer if I want kids." Not just for himself, having wanted a large family since he could remember but also for Fenrir, who longed for laughter and a household as full as his own had been, to try and make up for his lost siblings. For both of them.
Hermione set her hand over his. "No one's forcing you into this, Harry," she said softly. "Fenrir wouldn't push you if it really upset you. You said as much. He loves you."
"It's not just about what Fenrir wants," Harry said distantly, watching Kirian tuck his blanket into his shirt so it wouldn't get dirty as he helped Mrs Weasley pull some carrots. "I want it. I want it so badly lately that's it's making me a right miserable twat. I can't get it out of my head, it's like...it's like..." He didn't know what to liken it to. A stomach ache that never faded. A tightness in his chest. A longing. He looked up and caught Ron's eye and felt stupid.
"Sorry," he murmured. "I know I'm being all melodramatic and everything. I blame the moon..."
Ron snorted and flicked a scrap of potato peel at him. "Mate, I know we've faced some pretty weird stuff together but it's alright to be messed up and worried about normal things too." He raised his eyebrows, waving the potato peeler demonstratively – a muggle one, the kind Mrs Weasley always encouraged them to use. She said it built character to do some things without magic. The sight of it made Harry's lips twitch despite himself.
"You act like you shouldn't complain or worry about normal things just because worse things have happened – you are human, you know," Ron added. "Partly anyway."
Harry blinked. "You call this normal?" he asked, only part joking.
Ron frowned. "Well...yeah, it's normal to you. To us. You're not a freak, Harry and you're not a wuss."
A real smile tugged at Harry's mouth then and he gave Ron a small nod of thanks. Sometimes, the way Ron said things was the right way. Just sometimes.
"On that train of thought," Hermione said, picking up a spare peeler and starting to help Ron with the pile. "Harry, aside from the trauma you suffered, there's nothing wrong with what...what needs to be done for you to conceive. You aren't fully human, you're a werewolf and things are different for you. It's not sordid or shameful. It's a natural part of a werewolf's life. Did you think any less of Malfoy for it?"
"Urgh, thanks for that image, 'Mione," Ron muttered, at the same time as Harry replied.
"No. Of course not. It's not...it's not like a weird human kink or anything. It's not really done for..." He trailed off. It was another part of his world he found hard to explain. It wasn't done just because they fancied it, because they got pleasure out of it. Wolves only did it that way when they wanted to procreate. His face twisted as he tried to find his words but the look on his best friends' faces told him he needn't struggle.
"We know, Harry," Hermione said gently. "And so, if you do decide you can...with Fenrir, like that then, well it's no different than it was for Malfoy. It's just another quirk of werewolf life, I suppose."
Harry snorted, fidgeting in his seat at the picnic table they were huddled round. "It's just...I could sort of...it sounds ridiculous but I wasn't so concerned about it before. I didn't choose to do it last time, so I felt sort of..."
"Liberated?"
"Let off?"
"Yeah," Harry admitted sheepishly to Ron's suggestion. "Like I wasn't a deviant because I didn't choose to have sex with Fenrir while he was all..." His face burned darkly. "But if I do...Lord, whatever way you look at it I'm a little pervert who gets off having a dog fuck him." He felt queasy.
"Listen to me, Harry Potter," Hermione said tartly. "If there was anything we learned during the war, it was that life is short, even for wizards. You have to take chances and live life for yourself and your loved ones or it might slip away one day or change irrevocably and you'll spend the rest of your life wishing you'd done more."
Harry froze, not knowing what to say.
"If you want this, Harry, we'll make it happen, but don't let what you think you should feel hold you back. Fear and uncertainty we can conquer, but not if you doubt yourself," she finished, setting her peeler down. She reached for his hand again and with a softer voice, she murmured, "Perhaps you and Fenrir can just try? Just...see how you feel? You can always say no if it gets too much. You eventually were able to be with Fenrir as a wolf again even when you couldn't even look at him at first, weren't you? Perhaps...baby steps, so to speak? No one's saying it has to happen overnight."
Harry didn't realise how uneven his breathing had become until he choked on it, grasping her hand and looking between her and Ron. He hesitated, not for the first or last time overwhelmed at their unconditional love. He didn't think it would ever stop surprising him with its intensity.
After a moment, Ron kicked him playfully under the table. "At least if you try, even if you can't go through with it after all, you'll know you tried, right?"
Before Harry could answer, the invisible bubble of Muffliato burst as Kirian came barrelling towards them, sobbing loudly, practically leaping into Harry's lap. "What's the matter?" Harry asked, panicked, wrapping one arm round him to pull him in close while he pushed dark auburn locks out of that pink-tear-streaked face.
"Gnome was hiding in the broccoli," Arthur said, breathing hard as he rushed to his side, "Didn't see it. Gave him a nasty nip, I'm afraid. No real damage but quite a bit of blood, think it gave him a bit of a fright."
Harry glanced down quickly to where Kirian was clutching at his hand, blood splattering his clenched fist. His stomach flipped, instincts springing to their feet, ears pricked and ready, his breath came out in uneasy ripples as he drew Kirian's hand to his face to study it. It was only a little nip, but the dozen pinpricks went deep into that plump skin and it made him wince. Fenrir teased him endlessly about his overprotective parenting, that he shouldn't fuss so much, but there was nothing teasing about the fat tears rolling over Kirian's cheeks.
"Hey, it's alright, Kiri," he said softly, passing his hand over Kirian's hand to banish the bloody mess before pulling the injured skin to his mouth and sucking firmly. Kirian blinked wet eyelashes at him and the sniffling ceased with slow, uncontrollable hiccoughs. Harry smiled dotingly at him, relinquishing his hand. "Alpha can do a better job than me when we get home, but it'll stop the bleeding and numb it," he said, smoothing a hand through Kirian's wayward auburn locks and staring into those green eyes. It was funny how Kirian seemed to have so much of Fenrir in him, yet could pull expressions like that – wide-eyed and uncertain and needy.
"Sorry about that, Harry," Arthur said uncertainly.
Harry shook his head, "it's alright. These things happen. I think he's been cursed with my tendency to find trouble," he mused, letting Kirian press his head against his collarbone and sit there for a moment. He'd always liked his comforts, but he seemed more in need of it around the full moon. Probably he could sense the unease in his bones and didn't know quite how to deal with it yet. Harry wrapped both arms round him, a little guilty that he enjoyed it. He wanted Kirian to be confident and bold but he also enjoyed these moments with him. He was always a lot more fiesty when Teddy was around, perhaps the trip to Diagon Alley after the moon would do him some good.
"Come on, Kirian, let's see if Gran has started the yorkshire puddings yet," Arthur said brightly, holding a calloused hand out for the little boy to take. Kirian loved Yorkshire pudding the best. Tentatively, Kirian glanced up at Harry who smirked.
"I'm not going anywhere, go on. Maybe you can make sure you get the biggest one for yourself," he hedged and Kirian sat up straighter, snagging Arthur's hand and marching with him through the open kitchen door that the smell of roast chicken was wafting from. Harry couldn't ever explain how good it felt to see Arthur and Molly with Kirian, treating him as if he were every bit of their grandchild as Victoire – Fleur and Bill's daughter. Kirian even inherited a good share of Weasley 'boy toys' which thrilled him to no end. He loved the twins, who were absent tonight, but often packed his pockets with thrilling treats and tricks to show the other pack children.
"What do you think you'll do, Harry?" Hermione asked softly once Kirian and Arthur had disappeared into the house. When Harry hesitated she added, "We're here for you, whatever happens. I think...I think though it's not as simple as 'trying' when you experienced what you did – with the man you love, no less, you will feel better when you're actually trying, doing something. You never have been one to sit back and think on things. It's not the way you are."
Harry nodded. "I know. I think I already knew what I had to do to make myself happy, Fenrir too I just...it's good to talk sometimes." He smiled up at them both with a tinge of embarrassment lingering in his cheeks and reached for the third potato peeler. "I suppose I'll let you know how it goes in the morning."
Ron blinked. "I thought you were going back to school for a few months?"
"My exams will be the beginning of May, they'll be over a good few weeks before it...comes to a head," he replied with a wince.
Hermione scoffed. "If you are intending to go through with this, Harry, you really should learn to say it at least. Fear of a name only increases the fear of the thing itself."
Harry felt like they were eleven again. "This is embarrassment, not fear," he replied without missing a beat. He was answered with a knowing look.
"You don't think exams and NEWTs aren't a bit much to take on as well as a pregnancy?" she asked cautiously.
Harry popped his peeled potato into the pot and snatched up another. It felt good to keep his hands busy. "To be honest, I think it'll be good to keep busy, to carry on as normal. When I...when I had Kirian before, I felt like I was being treated like an invalid, like a trophy wife or something." Even though he'd known they why he couldn't venture out or do much, it hadn't stopped him feeling like it. Hormones weren't logical, after all. Nor were feelings.
"You never could sit still," Hermione lamented.
Harry flicked a slice of potato peel at her. Ron laughed.
With Kirian sleepy with food and excitement after Mr Weasley had let him have a go with Charlie's old train set, Harry stepped through the floo at the den with a sleepy child in his arms. He sniffed. He could smell Fenrir nearby, but Ghost greeted him first, barrelling into the room and wagging his tail happily.
"Missed you too, boy," Harry said with a grin, supporting Kirian with one arm so he could stroke the wolf's head. He walked into Kirian's room and lay the boy on the bed. "Watch him for a minute for me?" He received no answer but he knew Ghost had understood, for he eased onto the bed beside Kirian and watched dutifully as Harry retreated from the room, ears pricked and tail slapping contently against the sheets. Maybe next time Harry would take Ghost with him, Molly wasn't overly fond of dogs but Ghost could behave, Harry was sure of it.
Following his senses, Harry found Fenrir in the large bath, leaning back on his arms at the edge, completely submerged below the chest. "Hi," Harry said uncertainly, feeling the tension between them. Fenrir grunted, apparently as lost for words as Harry, who knelt down behind him and glanced around for a moment, before taking up the shampoo. He lathered it up in his hands and began to massage it through Fenrir's hair. A soft, appreciative groan sounded and he felt some of the tension ebb.
"Harry," Fenrir began, while Harry smoothed the suds through his mane. "Earlier, I know what it sounded like but I really don't–"
"I know," Harry said, taking the jug from the side and scooping water up. Like he did for Kirian, he cupped his hand over Fenrir's hairline to guide the water back off his face and tipped the jug over it to wash away the suds. "We're both on edge with the moon and this...this is like the elephant in the room we're both too afraid of upsetting each other to mention." He repeated the action a few more times until the suds were gone and then ran his fingers through the water-darkened hair thoughtfully. "I know you wouldn't...that you didn't mean to...you know."
Fenrir turned to stare up at him from the bath. They were both as inarticulate as each other with emotions and confessions, that hadn't changed over the years. Harry hoped Kirian was better adjusted than them; he was exposed to enough emotions and feelings anyway, so he could hope.
"I always wanted lots of kids, I'm sure you know why," Fenrir said haltingly, grimacing slightly and staring just below Harry's neck so he could avoid his eyes. "I don't have to say it. You know it all. I can't turn that off, I can't help but want it but I want..."
"Fenrir," Harry began but that glare silenced him – for once.
"I want your happiness means more," Fenrir said roughly. "Yeah, I'd like more kids, I'd like to have the chance to experience with you what was taken from me when you had Kirian but it's not the be all and end all to my happiness." He spoke rapidly, as if all in one breath, as if he had to get it out quickly before he lost the nerve to confess. When Harry's lips parted to speak, to interrupt, Fenrir gripped his wrist tightly, almost urgently.
"You make me happy," Fenrir admitted, voice quiet and rough. "You need to know that. I've got you and Kirian and that's what matters. I can't stop wanting something that I've wanted since before I met you, but it's just that, alright? It's just wanting. If I can't have it I'm still the bloody happiest man there is." He slid his hands up and gripped Harry's face, covering his throat the way he always did with damp hands, rough thumbs brushing his jaw in his way of showing affection. Devotion.
Harry could have cared less that he was dripping water all down him.
"I know you can't help but want something, you're only human," Harry said with a small smile.
Fenrir gave a relieved yet annoyed scowl. "Coming in?" he asked, eyes bright.
Harry hesitated. He covered Fenrir's hands with his own and then pushed them down reluctantly, until their joined fingers rested on his knees, making damp patches in his trousers there. "No, I want...I need to say something first."
Those bright blue eyes clouded again. Harry pushed ahead quickly, before Fenrir could assume the worst as he often did. It always seemed to be Fenrir giving a little first, taking the first step to bridge their little arguments with admitting the truth of his feelings and while that made guilt lap at Harry, it gave him the nerve to speak plainly. "I want to try. I don't know if I can. I know I don't want to experience 'that' part of it again anyway but I want to try. I want...I want what you want. If I let being afraid stop me from even trying I'll spend the rest of my life wondering."
Fenrir blinked, the same way Kirian did sometimes, mind almost audibly reeling as he processed Harry's rapid explanation. His lips parted soundlessly, water clinging to them for a moment before he found his voice. "But you...my wolf, doing that to you, I–"
"That wasn't your fault," Harry said sharply. "It wasn't mine either. It was just...it happened and no, I can't say as I'm looking forward to that part but...well... I want more kids, Fenrir and if you did get out of control again or if I changed my mind, I've got my magic now. I can stop you." When Fenrir said nothing, he held his gaze. "I might not be able to do it, but I want to try."
That brow furrowed. "But I thought you wanted to go back to that school of yours?"
"It's only until early May," Harry said, with a sense of de ja vu. Admitting to Fenrir that he might lose his nerve if he waited too long really was too much, he kept quiet.
Fenrir's fingertips curled, nails scraping gently against Harry's clothed knees. "I can't ask you to do that," he said at last, voice rough and unsteady.
Harry glared hotly. "You're not, I'm telling you. This is what's happening." When he realised how that sounded, his face flushed. "That came out wrong, I...I mean–"
Suddenly Fenrir seized him by the shoulders and dragged him sharply down, yanking him into the warm water with a great crash. The water rushed over him, until he surfaced breathless, panting and drenched. Fenrir kissed him hard, clawing at his back and hair and swallowing every sound of surprise greedily, as if unwilling to share the noises with anyone else.
When they broke apart, Harry sought those eyes and saw them burning an impossibly bright blue.
"Just try," Fenrir murmured as the water lapped at their skin and Harry's clothes. "But if you change your mind or you can't do it this time then stop me and we can try again – or not at all, just..." He gripped Harry's hair and pressed their foreheads together; breathing him and the steam in. "I don't want it to be like last time." Don't make me rape you, he clearly meant and Harry realised it must be a hard thing to, to have the potential that he might wake up to find he'd inadvertently raped the person he loved.
"I've got you in check this time," Harry mused, pushing Fenrir's chin up with a knuckle, but as he leant in for the kiss, Fenrir gripped his hair tighter and stopped him.
"I mean it, Harry," he said fiercely. "Don't be a martyr in this. I only want this if you do as well, for yourself. If it's like last time, I want no part in it." You're too important to me, was the clear, unspoken implication. It'd been five good years and Harry thought it felt so much longer, yet not enough at the same time.
Harry gave him a wistful smile. "I'm far too old to be playing the martyr," he said.
"Twenty-five, practically an old beggar," Fenrir growled with a smirk.
Harry swiped at the water, splashing Fenrir right across the face. "If I'm the old beggar you're a corpse," he laughed, a sound drowned out by water as Fenrir play-bit into his shoulder and they both tumbled under the surface.
Harry didn't think he'd anticipated a full moon rising so much before, not even his first one. He drew in a low breath to steady his nerves, which weren't helped any by the prospect of leaving Kirian alone on a full moon for the first time. His son scrunched his face up as Harry tugged his shirt off his head in preparation for his transformation and then helped him out of his trousers.
"How did you manage to get so dirty just at The Burrow?" Harry laughed, wiping his sleeve over Kirian's face.
Kirian scrubbed at his shock of dark red hair, left dishevelled from the removal of his shirt. "How come you get to go outside? I want to go with you," he pouted. Harry beamed at that little face, chest aching with the adoration he felt - it was still startling sometimes, even now. "Maybe we'll have a moon outside the den next month," Harry tried to placate him, carding his fingers through the rebellious locks.
"Maybe?" Kirian repeated with dissatisfaction. Harry just rolled his eyes and helped him step out of his trousers, setting the garments on the side table before shrugging out of his own shirt.
"Your Alpha and I...we have something we've got to do, that's all," Harry tried, avoiding those curious eyes as he stepped out of his trousers and pulled Fenrir's fur cloak around him. His skin, warmed by the moon heat prickled but he knew he'd want its shelter when he stepped out into the cool night air. That, and he still didn't feel quite at home completely bare in front of others. Kirian and Fenrir were one thing, but not the whole pack – not when the full swing of the moon wasn't upon him yet anyway. He'd be forever just a little bit human and he sort of preferred it that way. Even if Kirian and Fenrir teased him for it.
Kirian's big green eyes widened. "What something? Something secret?" he asked, eager.
Harry winced at his own lack of foresight and sight, reaching down and swinging his son up onto his hip. He'd been born small but like all other born wolves, was now about the size of a human five year old. Almost too heavy to be carrying around still. Almost. He looped his arms round Harry's neck as Harry stepped toward the door, Ghost hot on their heels and licking at Kirian's toes with excitement.
"Do you get lonely, Kiri?" he asked thoughtfully, hesitating at the door. Kirian buried his nose in Harry's neck and inhaled, snuffling softly. He was so calm and content and at peace with the human and wolf parts of himself in a way Harry had only just really gotten used to. It was a very moving thing for someone who'd taken so long to realise who he was. He and Fenrir had done good considering everything that had happened. He was grateful for that.
"I have you and Alpha," Kirian said. "And Ghost. And Vilkas and Astrid and-"
"But do you ever wish...?" Harry cleared his throat, thinking of his own lonely childhood in a dark cupboard with only spiders to talk to. It wasn't like that for Kirian, he was surrounded by people who loved him and children his own age that were pretty much his brothers and sisters. "Do you ever wish you had a brother or sister to play with?"
Kirian lifted his head for a moment, looking confused. "Uncle Draco, he said to Echo that Alpha wanted babies."
Harry bit the inside of his mouth. "Yeah?" he asked hesitantly.
Kirian nodded, his brow furrowed the way his father's was so often. "Like Astrid babies?"
"Yeah," Harry replied. "Sort of, except...you'd be a big brother. You'd have to...help Alpha and me to look after it."
Kirian looked thoughtful. He was bright for his age (under Harry's estimation anyway) but he was still not quite five years old. He glanced down at Ghost, as if he held all the answers. The wolf wagged his tail and snuffled at Kirian's bare toes. "I don't like girls," he said with wrinkled nose, clearly thinking of the twins that screeched and chased him and Teddy round with gleeful giggles, insisting on 'kiss chase' and things that made Kirian's ears go red. "Girls can't play right."
Harry laughed. "Oh, but a brother would be alright, yeah?"
Kirian perked up. "Vilkas goes to school soon, Teddy goes to muggle school too after summer. I won't have anyone to play with."
Harry smiled fondly. "So you'd like a little brother to play with maybe? Before summer?"
Kirian beamed. "Really?" he asked, hopeful. "Maybe I could show him things and...and I won't be the baby anymore."
Harry felt a pang of nostalgia at those words, but the fact that Kirian was so earnestly excited was a relief. It hardened his resolve, because this wasn't just for him or Fenrir, it was for Kirian too. Harry hadn't imagined the loneliness of an only child being reborn in his son – it would never be the same as his horrific childhood but the principal was the same.
"I'll see what I can do," he mused, brushing the corner of his mouth against Kirian's cheek, scenting and kissing at the same time in the perfect compromise of human and wolf affection as he pushed the door open.
"Daddy?" Kirian asked as Harry carried him toward the stone circle where the others were gathering. "Where do babies come from?"
Harry froze, saliva filling his mouth until it felt thick and useless. Ghost swirled around them, yipping excitedly. The full moon was close.
"When two grown ups love each other, they bond together under the moon and then make babies together," Larentia said brightly as she approached from the side, holding her arms out for Kirian. She was completely naked, which made Harry's cheeks flame as he smiled at her thankfully. She'd softened so much over the last few years, Kirian had softened her, Harry thought. Saved her.
"How?" Kirian asked, glancing from Larentia to Harry.
Larentia caught Harry's gaze, her eyes glittering in the last rays of the sun. "Magic," she said, grinning broadly as she hefted Kirian high on her hip. Ghost danced around her now on his toes, the buzz of the moon so close. Harry's head felt fuzzy, light and airy as if he'd spun around and now was trying to walk and think straight. Breath was coming faster, his skin felt itchy and hot even in the cool January air.
"I'd better get going," he murmured, brushing his mouth against Kirian's cheek. "Be good for Larentia, Kiri. You too, Ghost." The wolf yapped. Kirian's eyes were big and uncertain. He loved Larentia but with the unsettled feelings the moon inspired in everyone, he felt obviously vulnerable and he'd never had a moon without Harry before. Never. Harry worried at the inside of his mouth again.
All at once he was dragged back to that morning all those years ago, where he'd had to pass his baby boy into Draco's arms to face his death, knowing he'd never see him again. It hit him as if he'd run straight into solid stone. He felt sick. Stop being melodramatic, he told himself, but with little success. He couldn't help how he felt. It was always so hard to leave Kirian even for a few moments; it always had been after that but now, with the moon close and pulsing thickly in his veins like lava.
His body began so shake.
"Daddy?" Kirian asked, evidently sensing his unease. Ghost butted Harry's hand.
"I'll look after them," Larentia swore softly, her voice warm, gentle as she gripped Harry's shoulder. "There is no Dark Lord. Only your own demons."
Harry forced his eyes open and saw Kirian's head cocked in confusion, saw Larentia's arm round him as loving and secure as a mother wolf's and he knew his son would be safe. It helped, but did not eradicate the feeling of aching loss, the chasm that had never fully closed that morning he'd had to force himself away. He ached. He felt sick. The moon was so close. He had to go. Fenrir was already out there waiting.
"I..." He saw his baby boy wriggling in Draco's arms in Grimmauld Place all over again and swallowed around the thickness in his throat. Perhaps this was another opportunity, another chance to cross a bridge he'd been trying to find a way around for years. After all, once his lessons started, he'd have to leave Kirian for hours each week day...
Oh God.
"I'm alright, Kiri," he tried, voice only a little more ragged than usual. "Be a good boy for me." He hesitated for a moment longer, before a prickle of awareness and a rush of moon heat flooded his senses. His groin tightened and he stepped back, pulling the cloak more securely around him. Oh God. He was going to rut against the bloody grass if he didn't move soon.
Larentia raised a brow knowingly. "Have fun, Alpha Numero," she mused and Harry glared, before turning and walking quickly toward the gate, his stomach twisting at the growing distance between him and his cub. The ache brewed and festered all the way through the tunnels, eating away at him in the softly lit caverns until at last, when he reached the outside world, the forest, the sharp wind struck like a revitalising slap in the face. He groaned as he stepped onto the grass, bare toes digging into the dewy ground as relief swept through him. The sun had almost set; he could see the dying red light just through the trees.
Fenrir was close. Harry drew in a sharp, bracing breath, embracing the moon heat that swept through him to smother everything else but the desire boiling hotly in his belly. His cub was safe, was with pack and he, he was ready for breeding. That was all that mattered with the moon so close. His head felt giddy. His heart was pounding, his cock hard. He needed...something.
A soft growl sounded close by and Harry's eyes that he didn't remember closing flew open. He darted forward, flying through the thicket of bushes surrounding the mountain side and into the trees. The wind picked up, rushing against his ears and through his hair, bringing with it his alpha's scent, thick, musky and hot, heavy with fertility. Ready. Harry cried out as he caught sight of him, giving his mate just enough warning to turn before Harry leapt at him, smashing their lips together and digging fingers into that still human looking hair.
The tongue met him ravenously, sliding over his with open-mouthed kisses and devouring him with snarls, trailing over his jaw, the marked side of his throat. Harry rose up onto his toes, tilting his head back to draw more of those hot kisses to him. He hurriedly shrugged off his cloak and hissed at the rightness of his mate's flesh against his own. They moulded together, arms wrapped around each other with the desperation to say all the things their words could not this close to...everything.
As Fenrir had suspected and told him, if he wanted this, the moon would eradicate his other concerns. It would not make him want something or do anything he didn't desire, but it would dull any apprehension, uncertainty, 'should haves' or 'might do's. There was only instinct and desire here, running through Harry like a fire, so beautiful and overwhelming and...
"Oh, God – fuck me!" Harry snarled, dragging blunt nails down Fenrir's back until the man groaned. His eyes were burning gold in the barely there light. Clouds furled overhead and would obscure most of the stars but the moon was just there, nearly there. The sun just had to set fully. "Got an idea," Fenrir muttered, voice almost completely unintelligible now.
Harry could tell by the look in those eyes, by the feelings radiating off him what he meant by that. Whatever he was thinking would make it easier. Harry nodded urgently, not caring just needing.
Fenrir urged him onto his back on his cloak, both of their bodies almost glowing with the lingering light.
***CENSORED. FOR THE FULL SCENE PLEASE FOLLOW THE LINK ON MY PROFILE***
When finally Fenrir was able to slip free, he turned and sniffed at Harry's posterior, then flopped down next to him. Harry hummed, wincing a little as he shifted his cramped legs out, sinking bonelessly to the ground and rolling into Fenrir's side, pulling the fur cloak over him. That nose snuffled at his head and he let it as he drifted into exhausted sleep.
To Be Continued…
