Wizards and Werewolves Don't Mix
Summary: When Fenrir Greyback spends a night with Harry Potter, the last thing he's expecting is to start a relationship with the young wizard. But when Harry turns up pregnant, what is a werewolf to do? MPREG
Disclaimer: The world and characters of Harry Potter are the property of J.K. Rowling
Warnings: MPREG, Adult content/language, sexual situations
Taking a page out of some of my fellow fanfic writer's books, I'm basing a fanfic off a fun little-known rom-com. This particular story is based off the movie Fools Rush In starring Matthew Perry and Salma Hayek. It's a cute story that I've decided to adjust into a Fenrir/Harry fanfic as a little writing exercise. It's been a litte while since I read the books/watched the movies so there may be some oversights.
This is my very first Fenrir Greyback/Harry Potter fanfic, so please let me know what you think.
PART TWO OF A DOUBLE UPDATE, PLEASE READ CHAPTER TWO BEFORE READING THIS ONE!
CHAPTER THREE - Family Matters
The home of Ronald and Hermione Weasley is located in the countryside outside of London. The stone walls with wooden shutters complement the rolling green yard that is offset with early-blooming wildflowers. Lit up with paper lanterns, laughter is heard coming from the rear of the house. Completely ordinary looking, it blends in with the rest of the muggle homes scattered around them. In fact, only if one knew what to look for, would one notice the magic aspects of the residential home.
It is just after sunset as Harry and Fenrir make their way up the country road. The werewolf takes in a deep breath of fresh air which makes his inner wolf itch to run about.
"This is it, eh?"
"Yeah," replies the wizard as his eyes spot 's magically- refurbished car. "It looks like we're the last ones to arrive."
The werewolf beside him grunts in acknowledgement at the comment. As they approach the walkway to the door, Harry looks up at the man once more to check that his Glamour charm is in place. Not much has been changed on Fenrir, his hair was now shorter and a dark-brown color while the sharp features of his face have been softened just a bit. The man's characteristic piercing blue eyes have been muted to a warm gray. Satisfied that the werewolf wouldn't be recognized on sight, Harry takes a deep breath.
"Relax, pup. If you seem tense, others will pick up on it."
"Oh, right-"
Harry is interrupted as Fenrir leans down and kisses him, a strong arm wrapping around the wizard's thin waist. The press of lips is slow and sensual, yet no less passionate as the ones they shared the first time. It is with a soft moan that both wizard and werewolf pull apart. Harry face is flushed, yet devoid of all traces of the nervousness he had before.
"There you are," Fenror observes, pleased with his handiwork. "Nice and relaxed."
However, before the wizard can say anything, the door opens.
"Hello Harry! Good to see you!"
In shock, green eyes are surprised to be greeted by Bill Weasley. The elder brother of his best friend has aged well in the passing years. As Bill smiles down at the young wizard, the scars across his face crinkle.
"Hello Bill. It's, good to see you too. How's Fleur and Victoire?"
"Good. They're out back, actually. I just came around for a quick smoke. Fleur doesn't let me do it around her," answers the tall red-head as he closes the door behind him. "So Harry, who's your friend?"
Turning to the large man beside him, Harry puts on a smile.
"Bill, this is Grayson, he's a recent friend of mine. Grayson, this is Bill Weasley."
The two men shake hands at the introduction as Harry nervously watches the exchange. For a moment, Bill studies the face of the man, as if trying to see something on the larger man's features. Fenrir shows no signs of being uncomfortable with the scrutiny as he keeps his gaze locked with the red-head's. Not able to find whatever he is looking for, Bill releases the man's hand with a small grin.
"Well Grayson, a friend of Harry's is always welcome."
"I appreciate that."
In the silence, Bill pulls out a cigarette and puts in between his lips. He lights it with a quick charm as his eyes remain on the disguised Fenrir.
"I have to admit Harry, this is a pretty good Glamour you put on Fenrir. It even threw me off at first."
At the words, Harry blanches as the werewolf beside him grins in amusement.
"H-how did you know?!"
"Can't hide scent with a spell," answers Fenrir helpfully as he regards Bill. "He may not be able to turn into a full werewolf, but he still has the senses of one."
Turning to Fenrir, the young wizard is still in shock but manages to level a glare at the man.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"How was I supposed to know he'd be here?"
"Look, I don't know what's going on here," Bill starts, interrupting the odd couple before him. "But, an explanation would be helpful."
"Bill, it's hard to explain exactly, but Fenrir and I know each other. We met up recently and—"
"Does this have anything to do with him working for the Ministry now? I think I remember reading something about that in the Prophet."
At the convenient explanation being provided for him, Harry begins to slowly nod his head.
"Yeah, exactly."
The scarred red-head looks over the two as he inhales and then releases out a slow exhale of smoke. Watching the wisps disappear into the night air, the man seems to come to a conclusion.
"Fenrir, we were on opposite sides of a war that is long over. And for a long time, I was angry with you for attacking me. However, now I'm a husband and a father and I don't wish to relive the past. Let bygones, be bygones I say. We've all lost too much. The best way to move on with all of our lives is to look to the future."
At the hidden question directed at him, the alpha werewolf can't help but stare down at the emerald gaze of the wizard beside him. With a warm smile he looks back up at Bill.
"I couldn't agree with you more, Weasley."
"Excellent," Bill replies as he puts out his cigarette. The butt disappearing with a flick of his wrist. "Then let's go. Everyone's getting ready to eat."
As Bill turns to walk to the backyard, Harry is still in a state of shock at the acceptance that the elder Weasley is extending. However, "The Boy Who Lived" decides not to question it as he leads Fenrir around his friends' home.
The trio walk into the large yard that holds the Weasley family as well as Hermione's muggle parents who seem to be in a deep conversation with Arthur. The next generation of wizards run about engulfed in their simple games. Looking around at the people he calls family, even as he remembers those he lost in the war, Harry can't help but smile.
"Oh Harry, it is so good to see you!" greets Molly Weasley with a large smile. "It's been ages, dear!"
The Head Auror is quickly wrapped up in a large hug from the woman he considers a mother.
"It has been too long, . Sorry about that."
"Now, now, there's no need for any of that. You just come in and eat something. I swear every time I see you, you are nothing but skin and bones."
Turning her attention to the large man standing next to Bill, has a surprised look on her face.
"Oh, who is your friend, Harry?"
"This is Grayson. He's an acquaintance of mine. I hope that it's alright that I brought him."
"Of course it's alright," pipes up Ginny as she makes her way into the conversation. "Mum always makes too much food anyway."
Seeing his ex girlfriend, Harry is a bit unsure how to act. The two broke up rather amicably, but the situation is still a bit awkward. Luckily for the wizard, the guess work is taken out of the situation as Ginny walks up to him and hugs him. The comforting embrace is the same as before they started dating. It is a simple, yet affectionate gesture which Harry returns, the wizard relieved that there seems to be no hard feelings.
After Harry introduces "Grayson" to both of the redheaded witches, a knowing look appears on Ginny's face.
"Oh, Ron and Hermione are in the kitchen. They'll want to see you, Harry."
"Right then. Grayson, come with me."
Leading the way, Harry and Fenrir travel through the house and into the kitchen. The werewolf takes notice of the photographs on the walls, smirking when he spots a very young version of Harry with his arms around a familiar bushy-haired girl and a young redhead boy. Once the two reach their destination, Fenrir watches as Harry instantly wraps his arms around the older versions of the children in that picture—his two best friends.
"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley."
"Harry!" exclaims both Hermione and Ron. The two forgetting their tasks about the kitchen to greet the wizard.
The golden trio embrace in a long hug, the life-long friends ecstatic to see each other. It seems that has been some time since Harry has seen Ron and Hermione, then again being the head of a Ministry department has a way of taking up all of Harry's time. From his place in the doorframe, Fenrir notices that only Hermione makes sure not to embrace Harry too tightly.
"Harry, I didn't know you were coming mate! Why didn't you tell me?"
"That is the point of a surprise isn't it, Ron?"
"Speaking of surprises," starts Hermione, her attention going to the stranger in her kitchen. "Who is your friend?"
Turning to Fenrir, Harry moves out of their embrce and closer to the werewolf.
"This is Grayson. He's a friend of mine from London."
As they all exchange pleasantries, Hermione offers a welcoming smile, drawing attention to the fact that the once bushy-haired girl has grown into her looks. Ron, however has a suspicious expression on his face.
"Grayson, huh?"
"Be nice, Ronald."
"I am being a perfect gentleman, Hermione," Ron explains to his wife before turning his attention back to the stranger in his house. "So Grayson, where did you meet Harry?"
At the hard stare coming from the redhead, Fenrir has to fight to keep the smirk of his face. He mentally reminds himself that these are Harry's friends. Therefore, it wouldn't make a good impression if the werewolf knocked the wizard down a few pegs.
"We bumped into each other at a pub a while back," replies Fenrir, his voice deceptively calm. "We had a few pints together, is all. Harry is good company."
"So, Harry actually has free time to hang out."
"Ron, seriously?" the wizard questions, his own annoyance clear in his voice.
"What? We haven't seen you in ages. And then you do show up, it's with a bloke that you've never even talked about, not even once. It's a bit weird."
"Let's get out of firing range, Grayson. I'll take your coat."
As Hermione leads Fenrir away, the two can still hear Ron and Harry arguing in the background. A grin is on the witch's face as she takes Fenrir's coat and hangs it in the hall closet.
"Don't mind them. Harry and Ronald have always been that way. They're best friends but they butt heads all the time. Personally, I just think Ronald worries, not that he'd ever admit it."
At the comment, Fenrir smirks as he hears the argument in the kitchen rise a bit in volume. From the sound of it, Harry is winning.
"Harry doesn't like that, I take it."
"No, then again, Harry doesn't really know how to let people take care of him. I swear, if they didn't fight, they wouldn't know how to show they care."
Entering the living room of the Weasley's home, Fenrir spots a collection of photographs on the wall. The images move as all wizard photographs tend to do, the figures reliving the same moment in an endless cycle. Walking over to a particular frame, the werewolf spots a rather recent photo of Harry with his arm around a young woman with large eyes and long pale hair. The two have large matching smiles as they seem to share some sort of inside joke.
"Who is this with Harry?"
"Oh, that's Luna Lovegood. She's an old schoolmate of ours. Luna and Harry have always had a strange connection to each other. Admittedly, it takes some time to get used to her, but she is a loyal friend. She and Harry send each other owls rather regularly, and I think he just visited her a few months ago. That particular picture is from her last trip here."
"I see."
"Alright, follow me Grayson. You must be starving. I'll get you started on a plate."
Fenrir takes one last look at the photo before following Hermione outside.
The family get together is in full swing as the night continues. Good food and laughter flow through the Weasley's backyard as everyone gets comfortable. Even Fenrir, disguised with a simple charm, finds himself laughing along with Harry's family. Noticing the werewolf's ease, Harry leaves his seat beside him to refill his cup. A small smile is on his lips as he is cornered at the punch bowl by Hermione.
"Harry, I'm really glad you made it, tonight. I was a bit worried about you since our last chat-"
"Everything's fine." insists the auror, not wanting certain information overheard at the moment. "I've had some time to sort things out and everything is just fine."
Instantly recognizing the overuse of the word "fine" as anything but, the witch decides to inquire into another area of her friend's life.
"So, this Grayson that you brought with you," begins Hermione in a low whisper. "Is he really just a friend, or is he the father of your baby?"
At the knowing look on sharp witch's face, Harry gently pulls her closer.
"Yes he is, but could you keep that between us? I haven't told anyone else about my condition yet."
"Harry, please don't tell me that you're waiting until you start to show."
"No, I just think telling everyone that I'm knocked up is a bit much for dinner conversation," Harry rationalizes as he stares out at the group of people that he cares about most. "Look, I promise that I'll tell everyone when I'm ready."
Seeing the apprehension on her friend's face, Hermione decides to drop the subject. She instead opts to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder as a silent show of support.
"Whatever you think is best, Harry. However, if you need anyone to go with you for your next appointment at St. Mungo's, just let me know. You can call if you like, Ron still doesn't know how to use a cellular phone so he won't find out about it."
At Hermione's words, the auror lets out a chuckle.
"Thanks, Hermione."
From his seat at one of the long picnic tables set up in the Weasley's backyard, Fenrir watches as Harry converses with his friends and pseudo-family. Engulfed in his observations, the man almost misses the two small children that run up to him. One is a reamarkably-pretty blonde girl, the other, a slightly-older boy with hair that seems to change colors at his whim.
"Ello! My name es Victoire and this es Teddy."
Smirking down at the two children before him, the large man turns to face them fully.
"Hullo, how can I help you two?"
"Arr you really Uncle Arry's friend?" pipes up Victoire, her accented voice giving her a charm all her own.
"Yes."
"But you're old," comments the boy, finally adding to the conversation, as he stares at the large man.
The werewolf sinds himself more amused than insulted by the sudden remark. Then again, the man is well into his forties and can't really deny the fact. So, after a quick laugh, he grins down at the two children.
"Let's just say that Harry and I are a special kind of friends."
"Oh, okay."
Fenrir stares at Teddy's soft facial features for a long moment, a quick whiff of the boy's scent confirming his thoughts.
"You look just like your father when he was a pup. With the exception of the color-changin' hair, of course."
Teddy eyes widen as his interest in the disguised werewolf grows. Moving closer, large eyes take a deep look at Fenrir.
"You knew my daddy, too?"
"I did. We weren't exactly friends though, Remus and I."
Mulling this new information about in his young mind, the boy surprises the man by offering a smile.
"Well, maybe you can be my friend?"
At the pure innocence in the boy's face, Fenrir finds himself completely lost. A genuine smile comes to his features as pats Teddy Lupin on the head.
"Maybe pup, maybe."
Harry smiles as he watches Fenrir interact with the two children. Emerald eyes have been on the werewolf since his godchild had approached him, curious to see how Fenrir would handle it. Pleasantly surprised by the outcome, the wizard's hand subconsciously lingers on his stomach before helping carry now-empty dishes into the kitchen.
As the wizard puts the dishes into the sink, the charmed fixture doing all the work to clean them, Fenrir comes up behind him. He nuzzles the side of Harry's throat causing the auror to jump slightly in surprise.
"F-fenrir, stop. Anyone could come in and see us. There are children here, you know."
"I'll hear anyone the second they come inside the house," the man whispers as his hands slowly travel up and down the wizard's body. "Besides, can't expect me to keep my hands off of you for too long."
At that, Harry turns around in Fenrir's grip, and opens his mouth to argue. However, it is quickly silenced by the werewolf's eager lips. The wizard attempts to fight it, but gives in when he is pressed against the muscular body. Ignoring better reason, Harry gives into the kiss, not carrying that they are standing in his best friends' kitchen. When the werewolf breaks their contact, Harry's lips are slightly swollen.
Fenrir smiles as he moves away, mere seconds before Ron enters the room. The auror absently realizes that this is the second time that they've been interrupted by a Weasley as he runs a hand through his unruly hair.
"So here's where you got to, Harry," the redheaded wizard comments, oblivious to anything that was going on in the room before his entrance. " 'Mione told me to give you this potion. Somethin' about a cold."
Taking the offered vial from his friend, Harry offers him a grateful smile.
"Oh, er—tell her I said thanks."
"You two about to head out?"
"Yeah, Grayson and I need to get back to London."
"Alright. Look, sorry about before and everything. But seriously, don't be a stranger, mate. It's been a while since we've all hung out together."
"Sure thing. Goodnight, Ron. Tell Hermione I said goodnight."
"I'll pass it along, Harry. Grayson, it was nice meeting you. Make sure Harry gets home safe, alright?"
"Will do," replies Fenrir, his gaze fixated on the dark-haired wizard beside him.
After Harry says goodbye to the various members of the Weasley and Granger family, he and Fenrir walk out. The night is a bit chilly as the two walk away from Ron and Hermione's home. No words are exchanged as they make their way along the country road. The simple sounds of chirping crickets fill the silence. After a few moments pass, Harry takes the werewolf's hand and apparates them back to Fenrir's cottage in Hogsmeade. Once in the man's temporary lodgings, Harry releases a breath.
"Thanks, Fenrir. I know that it was a bit uncomfortable at times, but I really appreciate you doing this for me."
The wizard's words earn him a non-committal shrug from the werewolf.
"Your friends care about you so they're just protective, I understand. Werewolf packs aren't much different. Besides, it makes me feel better, knowin' that they will take good care of the both of you."
At the mention of their unborn child, Harry nods in agreement.
"It makes me feel better too. When I tell them who the father is, they won't just think of the old you. They'll think of the Fenrir they had dinner with tonight."
"They'll just hate me even more, Harry. Not that it ain't justified."
Something about the werewolf's tone of voice makes Harry approach him. But before he does or says anything, the wizard takes out his wand. A flick of his wrist and a few murmured words removes the Glamour charm from the man's face. Seeing the familiar visage of Fenrir Greyback staring back at him, a small smirk appears on the wizard's lips.
"I won't let them."
Looking down into the determination reflected in entrancing green eyes, Fenrir slowly pulls Harry close. The man's nose is quickly buried in the thick locks of the wizard's hair. After a deep inhale of the wizard's addictive scent, the werewolf speaks—his voice still retaining its rich, gravely tone even as a whisper.
"I want to be there."
"Fenrir, you don't have to," Harry interjects, pulling back to look up at the man. "We talked about this before. I know that this isn't what you expected would happen from that night and-"
Harry is cut off when Fenrir leans in to kiss him. This time the gesture is the intense exchange that the wizard has been thinking of for the past few months. The dominance that pours off the werewolf brings out the submissive qualities of the wizard's personality while simultaneously bringing about his own urges. As firm lips explore his mouth, pale fingers run through thick, grey-streaked hair. Encouraging groans rumble out of the larger man's throat as the auror's other hand trails along the werewolf's well-defined body. A smile crosses his lips as a large palm lingers on Harry's lower abdomen right where their child is growing. So engulfed in Fenrir's ministrations, the wizard barely notices as he is laid upon the plush rug before the fireplace. At the change of orientation, he opens his viridian eyes to see the werewolf above him silhouetted by the flickering flames.
"I take care of what's mine, Harry," murmurs Fenrir as their lips part. His low voice joined only by the crackling fire and Harry's panting as he catches his breath. "Always have, always will."
"And how exactly do you plan to do that?"
"Well, first I'm going to make you mine, pup. Put my mark on that pretty throat of yours, right here," states the werewolf right before he swipes his tongue along the area for emphasis. "Make sure that everyone knows that your body belongs to me."
The possessive tone sends a shiver of pure desire through Harry's body. Unprepared for such a reaction, the wizard forces himself to take a second to organize his thoughts—all the while, shifting nervously under Fenrir's heated gaze.
"If I did let you mark me, what would that do exactly?"
"Means that you, Harry Potter, would be mine and I'd be responsible for takin' care of and providin' for you and our little pup. I'd see to all of your needs and you'd satisfy mine."
"And what would your needs entail?" Harry asks, raising an eyebrow.
The question makes the grin on the werewolf's face grow wider as he takes an appreciative look over the wizard beneath him.
"Well, you're a smart wizard aren't ya? Figure it out."
Staring up at the embodiment of wild masculinity above him, Harry finds himself warming up to the idea of belonging to the man. He can't really explain it, but it would be nice to have one aspect of his life where he doesn't have to be in charge. For the young auror, it is all too appealing to be able to depend on someone else for a change. Fenrir Greyback isn't exactly the person he envisioned having a child with, however "The Boy Who Lived" can't deny that the man has a certain rough charm to him. After all, the man's charm entranced Harry into one of the best conversations he had in ages and it seduced him into the passionate tryst that resulted in the child now growing inside of him.
All in all, the wizard finds himself curious—what would it be like to be Fenrir Greyback's mate? The man is feared by many, yet he is slowly earning support within the Ministry of Magic. Fenrir has committed crimes, yet he is making amends for it by helping to hunt down those that wish to continue the Dark Lord's work. In time, the werewolf could become a well-respected member of wizarding society. But, if Harry is truly honest with himself, he finds that he genuinely likes the man, just as he is. He has no desire to smooth out the rough edges of the man's personality. There are probably better reasons for starting a relationship, then again it's not as if Harry has ever done anything in his life the "normal" way—so why start now?
"So, for werewolves, being mates is sort of like being married, then?"
"You could say that," answers Fenrir, the alpha wolf already sensing that the wizard is leaning towards saying 'yes' to his proposal.
"Merlin, this is insane," Harry states, his sense of logic suddenly coming back full force. "Just because we're having a baby together doesn't mean that we need to become mates or whatever. Plenty of people have children without being involved with one another."
Leaning in a bit, piercing blue eyes rove over the lithe body laid out beneath him. Fenrir intentionally making it so the wizard can practically feel the lust from his gaze before locking with the emerald ones peering through trademark glasses.
"You're right, we don't have to be mated," begins Fenrir, his hand gently caressing Harry's side. His fingers stroking the warm skin just underneath the light sweater covering the wizard's torso. "But the thing with werewolves is, we tend to get real possessive. My more feral side may not like the fact that our mate is out in the world unclaimed, specially since you are with cub. After all, werewolf cubs need their sire just as much as they need their carrier."
"So, this is more like, preventative measures?" asks Harry, his own hand running up the man's chest.
"Preventative would be if you and I used some sort of protection two months ago. My instincts have always led me, Harry. And right now, they are tellin' me that lettin' you leave my sight without my claim on you would be the biggest mistake of my life. What're your instincts tellin' you?"
For a moment, Harry is completely speechless by what the man has said. However, what truly steals his words is the intense, yet honest longing that is visible in Fenrir's eyes. A slow smile appears on the wizard's face as he stares up at the infamous werewolf.
"My instincts are telling me that as completely mad as all of this is, I should just say yes."
"Then maybe, you should just listen to 'em."
With those words, Fenrir closes the gap between them with a deep kiss. The larger man keeps most of his weight off of Harry's smaller form, yet still manages to engulf the wizard with his intense presence. Once again, the two men make quick work of their clothing in their urgency to feel their bodies pressed against each other.
Fenrir leaves the wizard's soft lips to travel along the supple skin that covers the curve his throat. As the werewolf's mouth tastes and nips its way along his body, Harry's hands explore the man at their leisure. His quick fingers run over shifting muscle and trace the many scars that litter the sun-darkened skin. A low groan escapes the wizard's throat as he feels the man's stubble graze against his skin as Fenrir reunites their lips in another passionate kiss.
Lying between the lean thighs spread for him, the werewolf can't help but lick his lips in anticipation. Fenrir has never been as passionate with a lover as he is with the wizard now carrying his child. Sure, he has had plenty of satisfying sex, but with Harry it feels completely different. Every touch, from light caress to heavy grope, sets off intense reactions of pleasure as they discover the nuances of each other's bodies.
Both Harry and Fenrir realize at the same moment when their touches, as addictive as they are, are no longer enough. Without words, the wizard settles on his back while his soon-to-be mate gets into position. The two males lock eyes with one another, each of their gazes hazy with lust. Panting, Harry holds on to the last shreds of his patience as his body is prepared to be thoroughly claimed by the man above him.
Dealing with his own urges to simply take the body offered to him, Fenrir slowly enters Harry. Instead of simply using the tight, enveloping heat to bring about his own end, the werewolf forces his thrusts to be slow, allowing his smaller mate to adjust to his size. The effort is not an easy one, as the wizard looks delectable underneath him—a thin sheen of sweat on his features as the soft glow of firelight plays across his pale, smooth skin. Closing his eyes to the tempting sight, Fenrir focuses on making the experience as painless as possible. He is startled out of his intense concentration when a pale hand is gently pressed against the werewolf's cheek.
"Fenrir?"
"Yeah, pup?"
"Not that I don't appreciate this," begins the flushed wizard, indicating the man's considerate efforts. "But I'm not made of glass. And if you go any slower, I'll have no choice but to hex you into next week."
At the demand, the werewolf grins lecherously. His large hands spread the well-toned thighs further as he increases his pace, the new rhythm forcing a keening cry to leave Harry's lips as his back arches felinely.
"I knew there was a reason I liked you so much, Potter."
With that, the two men say very little(at least coherently) as they focus on the intense reactions they are drawing from each other's bodies. Piercing blue orbs focus on the pale wizard as he gives himself over to pleasure, a pride unlike any he's ever known before swells in the man as he forces moan after moan from pink, kiss-bruised lips. Half-lidded emerald eyes in turn fixate on the man before him, entranced by the shifting of powerful muscles and impressed by their strength as the man suddenly pulls him into his lap. Any reservations that Harry has held onto are thrown out the window as he is bombarded with the new sensations racking his lithe frame. Looking up at the man inspiring them, the wizard is pleased to see that he is having a similar effect.
Just as he can feel the familiar buildup to the all-too satisfying rush of endorphins, Harry feels the werewolf's mouth on his throat. Lips and tongue map the area before he feels sharp canines graze the sensitized skin. However, just as the wizard gives into the mind-blowing euphoria, Fenrir's teeth sink in. His convulsing body rides out the waves of pleasure as blood trickles down his throat. A loud, deafening howl is all that is heard before Harry slips into sated darkness.
The werewolf not too far behind him.
The next morning.
This time, when Fenrir is awoken by another irritating beam of sunlight(disoriented a bit since he's on the floor) there is no frustration. Instead, his body thrums with satisfaction as a comforting weight shifts on top of him. The mop of familiar dark hair on his furred chest nuzzles further into his body as its owner tightens his grip on the blanket—the woven cover had been summoned sometime after their activities. As the wizard moves about, Fenrir catches a glimpse of the healing mark on his mate's pale shoulder, the skin covering the biten area has darkened into a large blotch of swollen skin. An odd sense of calm settles over the werewolf at the physical proof that the one carrying his child has been properly claimed.
"Mornin', Harry."
"Morning," replies the wizard as he yawns. Lifting his head up, Harry uses a hand to rub a bit of the sleep from his eyes. It takes him a moment to realize that his trademark eyewear isn't on his face. "Where are my glasses?"
"Safe and sound on the table."
"Oh, good then. . . *yawn*Won't have to transfigure a new pair, later."
After that comment, "The Savior of the Wizarding World" then returns his head to the warmth emanating from Fenrir's chest. The rather cute gesture coming from the man that defeated the Dark Lord paired with the disheveled appearance makes the werewolf chuckle. Harry looks up as the sound reverberates within the broad chest that is currently his pillow.
"What?"
"It's nothin', Potter," comments the man, running a hand through the mess of dark hair. "Nothin' at all."
TO BE CONTINUED . . .
So, unfortunately, you shall have to wait until next week to find out what happens next. In any case, I hope you all liked these two chapters.
Until next time,
Later Days!
RENKA