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.
Before we get started on this installment, I just want to take a moment to once again thank everyone that has commented, faved, or simply read this story. I really appreciate the feedback and I'm glad that you are all liking it so far.
Now, since it took me longer than expected to post this chapter, I made it extra long (over 7,500 words!)
So, with no further ado . . .
CHAPTER FOUR - Settling In
In the eerie darkness of the Forbidden Forest, Fenrir Greyback watches over his pack mates and the group of aurors he has been charged with. His ears are attuned to the rustle of leaves and the scurrying noises of the creatures that make up the inhabitants of the dark woods. Yet, even in this state of hyper awareness, Fenrir seems to be in a uncharacteristic good mood. Now, the man isn't skipping through the woods and singing a tune, however his usual scowl has been replaced by a satisfied smirk.
Then again, three straight days of passionate(and rather creative) sex would have a lingering effect on anyone—even a notorious werewolf.
Lost in his graphic mental replay of the past weekend with his new mate, the alpha werewolf is oblivious to the concerned stares coming from his betas.
His gaze on the forest around them, piercing blue eyes almost miss Derrick's hesitant approach. Fenrir takes his time to turn and face the grey-eyed man. With a smooth rise of his eyebrow, he looks expectantly at the slightly-shorter man.
"Somethin' wrong, Derrick?" Fenrir asks. Glancing around the man, he catches Scarlett looking on with trepidation as the team of aurors continue their work behind them.
"No, everything is going as well as it can. I simply wanted to talk."
"About?"
"Well, Fenrir, you seem to be in a good mood . . ." trails the other man, his tone a bit more accusatory than Fenrir would like.
"Actually, I am in an excellent mood, Derrick," the alpha replies, his shark-like grin unnerving his old friend for a brief moment.
"And this excellent mood of yours, would it have anything to do with that visit from Harry Potter a few days ago?"
The instant that Derrick mentions his mate's name, the look of amusement on Fenrir's face becomes tainted with desire. Bright blue eyes darken as the man's nostrils flare, as if trying to catch a lingering whiff of Harry that managed to stick to him. Derrick notices all these subtle changes with widened eyes, making him even more suspicious of his alpha.
"Yes, it does," Fenrir replies after taking a moment to collect himself. His mind leaving his own private thoughts in order to return to the present conversation. "Do you have a problem with that?"
"No, it's not my business who you shag, Fenrir. Scarlett and I are simply concerned for you."
The grin on the man's face lessens a bit as he turns to face the man that he has come to think of as a friend. Fenrir is not the least bit surprised that his beta knew that he's sleeping with the "Savior of the Wizarding World". It almost makes him feel a little guilty about the rest of the news he has yet to deliver—almost.
"Neither of you need to be concerned," Fenrir states with a small smile.
Derrick can't help but release a sigh of relief as he runs a hand over his buzzed hair, seemingly satisfied with the reassurance. Although, he knows that it would be remiss to ignore what has raised the concern for his alpha in the first place.
"Normally, I would take your word for anything, Fenrir. However, when Scarlett and I see the Harry Potter sitting in your cottage, it changes things a bit. And then before we can even begin to make sense of the situation, both of you are out the door and neither of us see you for three days straight. We do have an extensive job to do here and less than a year to finish it. The pack is so close to finishing our contract with the ministry, perhaps now isn't the time for . . . distractions."
After he finishes, Derrick's grey eyes study the other werewolf. A look of consideration passes over Fenrir's face as he turns to face his second in command.
"I am more than aware of the job we have to finish here, Derrick. No one has more desire than me to finally be free of the Ministry."
Intense blue eyes narrow suddenly as possessive anger makes its way onto Fenrir's rugged features. The gesture silently reminds the beta wolf why the man before him rules over every werewolf without question.
"That bein' said, don't ever call my mate a distraction again. Got it?"
Derrick nods in silent agreement, the beta wolf flabbergasted by more than one part of that statement. However, being the practical man that he is, he decides to focus on the most pertinent.
"You found a mate, I never thought that yo—wait a second!" Derrick interrupts himself when he makes the connection. The man then drops his voice to a whisper, mindful of the team of aurors nearby. "You're mated to Harry Potter, aren't you?"
"Yes, I claimed him," confirms Fenrir, unable to keep the pride out of his voice.
"But, why? I mean sure, Harry Potter is a valuable ally but it makes no sense. Why would you claim him so quickly, it's not like he's carrying your pups or something."
"Accordin' to the staff as St. Mungo's, the pup is due in November."
At that tidbit, the man physically blanches.
"That's it, it's finally happened, you've gone completely mad, Fenrir. Males can't get pregnant, no matter how many times you sleep with them."
The comment rolls right off the alpha werewolf as he shrugs noncommittally.
"Apparently, wizards are funny like that," states the larger man. The claim on his sanity remains neither confirmed nor denied as Fenrir leans himself against a nearby tree before he continues. "Can't change what's already happened, Derrick. The two of us shagged, the pup got pregnant, and I claimed him as mine. No use makin' a fuss over it."
The blasé statement makes Derrick shake his head in disbelief. As beta to Fenrir Greyback for the last few years, the man has witnessed his alpha do all types of things, with little(if any) regard with how others handle it. Fenrir lived his life by his own code and made no apologies for it. Honestly, it was one of the things that Derrick hated, and simultaneously admired, most about the man.
"I'm glad that you are taking this so calmly, Fenrir. What happens when the Ministry finds out that you've claimed their Golden Boy? Do you really think that's going to make wizards warm up to werewolves if we go around impregnating them?"
Fenrir can't help but chuckle at his beta's words.
"You aren't seein' the other side of this, Derrick. Harry isn't some witch I took advantage of in some dark alley. He was an equal participant, more than equal at some points," trails off the werewolf as he thinks back, a lascivious grin on his features.
"Fenrir, focus please."
Amused by the uncomfortable look on the other man's face, Fenrir chuckles.
"Funny, I seem to remember you and Scarlett holin' up for weeks when the two of you finally mated. When I finally did see you, you just had a dopey look on yer face."
"Fine," admits Derrick, a smirk on his own face as he thinks back to his own mating to the redheaded wolf a few yards away. "However, you did have a point to make, right?"
"Yes, I did," answers Fenrir nonchalantly, "As I was sayin', Harry in addition to bein' the 'Savior' and what not, is still the Ministry's Head Auror. If anyone was to vouch for werewolves, he'd be one that other wizards would actually listen to. Besides, couldn't hurt to have someone pro-lycan in the Ministry of Magic."
As they talk, they are suddenly joined by a large owl as it makes it's way through the thick foliage. The tawny-feathered bird drops down to land on the remains of a fallen tree. Looking at the two werewolves, it hoots in acknowledgement before going to clean it's feathers. Both men stare at the bird then at each other. Neither werewolf is expecting the sudden mail, as Kingsley usually communicated with them via his Patronus. Derrick approaches the owl first and removes the letter tied to its leg. The werewolf isn't too surprised as he reads whom it's addressed to.
"It's for you, Fenrir."
Raising an eyebrow, the large man makes his way over to his beta and the mail-carrying owl. Fenrir takes the letter only to be surprised that the envelope holds another letter. Opening the flap, his eyes grow a bit in surprise.
"Fuck."
The swear wrapped in an annoyed growl easily catches Derrick's attention. He makes his way over to the larger werewolf and attempts to peer over the man's wide shoulders.
"What is it?"
"It's a bloody Howler," replies Fenrir. The alpha glaring at the telltale red paper that peeks out of the standard white envelope.
"A Howler? Who would send you a howler?"
"Only one way to find out."
Opening the rest of the letter, the two werewolves watch as the red envelope reshapes itself into an angry scowl. Fenrir and Derrick both prepare to be hit with the auditory assault. However, only one of them is taken by further surprise when the voice of Ron Weasley, amplified into a high-pitched screech, breaks the eerie calm of the Forbidden Forest.
"FENRIR GREYBACK, I AM GOING TO FUCKING CASTRATE YOU IF YOU EVER SHOW YOUR FACE AGAIN! WHERE THE HELL DO YOU GET OFF BUGGERIN' MY BEST MATE! AND IF THAT WEREN'T BAD ENOUGH, NOW THE TWO OF YOU ARE THE WEREWOLF EQUIVALENT OF BEING MARRIED, WHATEVER THE BLOODY HELL THAT IS! I WELCOME YOU INTO MY HOME, AROUND MY FAMILY, AND THE THANKS I GET IS THAT YOU GO BITE MY BEST FRIEND LIKE SOME ANIMAL! EXACTLY THE SORT OF THING I'D EXPECT FROM A REVOLTING MONSTER LIKE YOU, GREYBACK! WHAT? BILL WASN'T ENOUGH FOR YOU! YOU BETTER TAKE DAMN GOOD CARE OF HIM AND YOUR KID OR I AM GOING TO HUNT YOU DOWN AND HANG YOUR MANGY PELT ON MY WALL! . . . There, that should do it. Hermione, I know how to send a Howler, for Merlin's sake! Mum taught me. Wait, what? It's still going? Oh, bollocks—"
Once it has said its piece, the red letter flutters to the ground as useless red paper before ripping itself to pieces. For a few awkward seconds, both werewolves, as well as Scarlett and the group of aurors are in complete shock. The Forbidden Forest seems even more unnaturally silent after the shrill tirade that caught everyone's attention.
Luckily, Fenrir is the first to recover. He puts the envelope that the Howler came in into his pocket. The man silently thanking whatever sense the redhead wizard had that he had not actually named Harry Potter. After all, Fenrir is well aware that the last thing his wizard would appreciate is being ousted as pregnant and mated in front of the very aurors he was responsible for.
Clearing his throat, the werewolf turns to the silent onlookers.
"What are all you gapin' at?! The Forbidden Forest ain't gonna map itself! Get back to work!"
The commanding tone and dominating aura emanating from Fenrir instantly snaps everyone out of their individual trances. All three aurors are seemingly smart enough not to question the strange howler out loud and dutifully return to their maps and runes. Scarlett exchanges a meaningful look with her mate before returning her attention back to the group of wizards.
Once the alpha and beta are once alone in conversation, Fenrir feels a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
"And I thought my in-laws were bad," comments Derrick, a commiserating expression on his face.
After a few more hours deep in the Forbidden Forest, the werewolves and wizards have no further disruptions—except for a few pesky Bowtruckles. The thin tree dwellers pelting the group with sticks and rocks when one of the aurors' wayward spells accidentally damages their protected trees. Tired and nursing a few burgeoning bruises, the team makes their way into Hogsmeade ready to turn in for their night. With plans to meet up the next morning, the aurors head to their temporary housing, leaving the werewolves to their own devices.
When he opens the door to his Ministry-lent cottage, Fenrir is greeted by the now-familiar sight of a pale, dark-haired wizard in his home. Harry, clad in a baggy sweater and faded jeans, is brewing a pot of tea at the simple stove located within the small home. A smile curves Fenrir's lips as he watches the dark-haired auror use his wand to transfigure a tumbler into a suitable teacup.
"Ya' know, I can buy you a tea cup if you're plannin' to spend so much time here."
Noticing that he is no longer alone, Harry walks over to Fenrir with an apology on his lips. "The Boy Who Lived" completely missing the two werewolves behind the large man.
"Fenrir, I am so sorry! I can't believe that Ron sent you a Howler, of all things."
"Wait? How'd you know about that?"
"Hermione called me. Apparently, he sent it once I left, after I told them about . . . well, everything, really."
Catching the meaning of his words, the werewolf moves closer to Harry. Fenrir knows that it couldn't have been easy for the wizard to explain to his friends that he is pregnant with Fenrir Greyback's child. The lycan wishes that he could've been there to support his mate as he looks down into deep forest-green eyes.
"Still, doesn't explain why you're apologizin'. Not like you sent it," soothes Fenrir, his hand carding through the unruly dark locks on his mate's head once he's within reach.
"But still. He is my best mate, I feel a little responsible for him. Thank Merlin, Hermione managed to calm him down enough that he only sent the Howler. When I was there, it took the two of us an hour just to convince him not to go confront you in person."
A chuckle escapes Fenrir's lips at the image of Ron Weasley attempting to physically intimidate him away from Harry. The wizard was tall, but way too lean to be a real challenge to a full-fledged werewolf. Looking into the deep emerald eyes gazing up at him questioningly, the man offers a soft smile.
"That Howler was quite amusin', though. Haven't heard one of those in ages."
"I'm glad you found it so hilarious."
At the annoyance seeping into Harry's voice, large arms wrap around the wizard's slim body. Fenrir quickly takes notice that the embrace seems to instantly soothe the smaller male as he smirks down at him.
"Well pup, doesn't matter how many Howlers your friend sends, I'm not going anywhere."
Harry yelps a bit in surprise when Fenrir hands feel their way along the planes of his body, the werewolf completely unapologetic in his touches. The wizard looks to the side to hide the light blush he can feel spreading across his cheeks.
"Fenrir, s-stop—"
"You know you like it, pup."
"I didn't say that I didn't like it. Just that we don't always have to. I mean, we've been going at it for days. Haven't you had enough?"
A large smirk spreads across the werewolf's face at the question.
"Can never have too much of a good thing, right?"
The two lean in, about to share a kiss, but before their lips even touch Fenrir and Harry are interrupted by a throat being cleared. From the doorway, Derrick and Scarlett smile at the blush forming on Harry's face and the annoyed look already on Fenrir's. As the wizard steps back from his overpowering mate, the werewolf couple instantly notice their alpha's claiming mark peeking out from underneath the wizard's sweater.
"Sorry to interrupt," begins the red-headed werewolf, her tone light. "I'm Scarlett by the way. I don't think that we got a chance to be properly introduced last time."
"Oh, err—right," the wizard comments, a note of embarrassment to his voice as he remembers that particular event within the whirlwind of events that unfolded that night. "I'm Harry. Harry Potter."
"Oh I know, hard to miss the scar and all."
"Right," Harry's hand unconsciously going to his forehead.
Sensing the wizard's unease at the subject, Derrick extends his hand to Harry with a warm smile. His grey eyes quickly take in the Head Auror's slim form, knowing that is belies the wizard's impressive magical abilities.
"I'm Derrick. It's good to properly meet you, Harry."
Shaking the offered hand, the bespectacled wizard smiles back.
"Thanks, you too. Um, I was just making a pot of tea, would either of you like one?"
"Oh, that sounds lovely," chimes Scarlett. "I'll help."
As the female werewolf goes to assist Harry, Fenrir and Derrick take a seat at the only table in the middle of the quaint cottage. It isn't long until the two dominant wolves are joined by their counterparts. Scarlett slides into the chair next to Derrick as Harry stands next to Fenrir.
"So, how's everything in the Forbidden Forest going?" asks the auror, sipping calmly at his tea.
The attempt to start conversation is met by a myriad of surprised looks appearing on the three werewolves' faces.
"You're a high level ministry official, Harry," confirms Derrick, leaning forward in his chair. "Don't you already know?"
"Not really. I mean, I get progress reports once a week that I have to review, but those are mostly just informational, letting the Ministry know the geography and terrain. Other then a few requisition forms, I don't know all that much. I am a bit jealous though. I spent a lot of time in the Forbidden Forest during my years at Hogwarts, it would be nice to see it when I'm not terrified for my life. To be honest, I would rather be out there with you all than at a desk, any day."
Not at all surprised by that statement, Fenrir leans back in his seat with a proud grin.
"It would be nicer havin' to report to you instead of havin' to deal with Kingsley and the rest of the Ministry on our case."
"Why are they on your case?" wonders Harry out loud, his brow creasing. "From the looks of it, you already have a quarter of the forest mapped out without any major incidents. That's pretty impressive seeing as the Forbidden Forest is practically a labyrinth if you don't know what you're doing. And if that isn't bad enough, Merlin knows what creatures are lurking in there. In second year, Ron and I barely escaped with our lives from Aragog and his clan of Acromantulas. Not to mention the thestrals, the hippogriffs, the forest trolls, I think there's even a few Blast-Ended Skrewts in there as well. But with the Forbidden Forest, there's really no way of knowing for sure."
Noticing a trio of raised eyebrows from the three werewolves seated before him, Harry pauses in his ramblings. He shyly rubs the back of his neck underneath their gazes.
"What? I just told you that I've spent a lot of time in those woods."
"Doin' what, exactly?"
At Fenrir's question, Harry's shyness melts away as he smirks mischievously. The werewolf not at all prepared for the arousing reaction that look triggers.
"Getting into trouble, what else?"
Looking down at the man sitting at the table, the Head Auror notices the letter that contained the Howler sticking out of Fenrir's pocket. Harry removes it with a frown as he recognizes Ron's scribbly handwriting.
"Merlin, I still can't believe Ron Weasley, of all people, sent a Howler. Sorry about my overprotective best friend."
"Stop apologizin', pup," replies Fenrir, pulling Harry into his lap. "When you live your life without carin' much what people think, it's bound to ruffle some feathers. I'm used to it. And besides, soon enough, neither of us will have to worry about what any wizard says."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Well, once this map of the Forbidden Forest is done, we'll go live with the pack," the man states, his chin resting on Harry's shoulder. "Good luck getting a Howler through those wards."
"Wait, you don't live around here?"
"Nope, my pack resides in the depths of the Russian Taiga," answers Fenrir. From his position, he is unable to see the look of surprise on Harry's face as he continues. "I'm only in the area for this Ministry work. Most werewolves don't like cities, not enough room to run about. Besides, the only way we can live without havin' to take that Wolfsbane swill is if we keep out of high-populated areas. Part of the agreement with the Ministry."
The news causes a palpable tension to settle in the room. Adjusting his glasses, the lone wizard clears his throat.
"Fenrir, I can't live in the middle of the woods, especially not in Russia," states Harry, turning around in the man's lap. "I'm head of the Auror department, I have to be able to get to London on a daily basis. Not to mention my family and friends are all in England. I don't want to have to apparate every where I go. Besides, with a baby, I'm not supposed to do it that often. At the very least, I'll need a fire place so I access the Floo Network, but in my condition, even that has its hazards."
"I'll take you then."
Taken aback by the overly-generous and out-of character offer, Harry smiles indulgently.
"Not that I don't appreciate it, Fenrir, but not even you could handle running about the continent all the time."
"Well, why don't you quit the Ministry?"
The suggestion is immediately met with a look from Harry Potter that threatens a severe cut off of some rather-pleasurable activities for Fenrir later on simply for suggesting it. Scarlett and Derrick watch this silent exchange, fascinated by the control the slim wizard has over their intimidating alpha.
"I'll quit the Ministry the same day you quit being the Alpha of your pack. I may not like it all the time, but I am a part of the Wizarding World, my life is here in England, Fenrir."
"But my pack isn't, Harry."
At the impasse, both men stare at each other. Both the stubborn wizard and unyielding werewolf seem equally steadfast in their positions. For the first time since they began their whirlwind(and perhaps ill-advised) romance, uncertainty enters their minds.
"It seems you two have some things to talk about, huh?" chimes in Scarlett from across the table. Derrick nodding along with her.
The wizard and the werewolf stare at the two with twin looks of annoyance as they come to terms with this first unforeseen road block.
Yet, despite these doubts, Fenrir tightens his grip on the wizard in his lap. Harry, in turn, smiles into his cup of tea at the reassuring gesture. After a little while, the werewolves begin talking about the next quadrant of the Forbidden Forest they have to explore. The wizard chimes in wtih helpful suggestion, all the while secure in the knowledge that he and Fenrir would figure out some way to work everything out.
THE NEXT DAY
A heavy sigh leaves Fenrir's lips as he plods through the fresh-fallen snow and towards his temporary home. The bare trees and empty silence around him do nothing to help the werewolf's simmering annoyance.
This mood isn't the fault of any particular person or event that transpired that day. It is just the usual anxious behavior that afflicts all werewolves right before the moon becomes full.
In preparation for this monthly event, the alpha had sent Scarlett and Derrick ahead to the pack. He and the team of aurors had spent most of the day just double-checking the sections they had already mapped and planning their next area to survey. The black-haired auror, that Fenrir now knew was named Abigail, had taken it upon herself to make a detailed list of the creatures suspected to live there along with providing her colleagues with the various methods to neutralize any possible threats.
Thankfully, it hadn't taken too long(the team of aurors perhaps sensing the werewolf's restlessness), allowing Fenrir to return home just as the sun is preparing to set for the day.
Opening the door to his cottage, Fenrir is taken aback by the changes the small house has gone through in the hours he had been away. To say that the house has been redecorated a bit, is a bit of an understatement. The interior has been cleaned from top to bottom, the cobwebs that have collected in the upper corners of the house have disappeared as well as the thin dust that has settled on the unused areas of the cottage. Here and there, the werewolf notices that some of Harry's personal effects have been moved in. And, unless the man is losing his mind, the one-room cottage has been magically expanded to accommodate the new additions to the house. Taking a whiff, the lycan is surprised to smell the delicious aroma of cooking meat underneath the cloying scent of magic.
"Oh! Err—Welcome home, Fenrir. You're home early."
At the greeting, Fenrir turns to see Harry coming out of one of the new backrooms. The frustration that has been picking at him most of the day recedes the second he spots his mate.
"Hullo, what went on here?"
"Well, let's just say that not everyone agrees with Ron's opinion of our mating. Hermione and Fleur helped me bring my things and taught me a few helpful spells to keep everything in order. Bill even taught me a useful charm to keep unwanted visitors at bay. It's their present to us. You actually just missed them."
Fenrir, a bit overwhelmed with all the new information and changes, looks around his once bachelor home. It starts to sink in that he is a mated man with a child on the way. Reading the werewolf's expression as disapproval, Harry's excitement deflates.
"You don't like it, do you? I had a feeling that it might be a bit soon. After all, we haven't even talked about me moving in or anyth—"
Interrupting the wizard's rambling, Fenrir lifts Harry's chin so that they lock eyes—intense blue meeting deep green.
"Just because I wasn't expectin' it, doesn't mean I don't like it. You're my mate, pup, of course I want you here."
The words make a small smile appear on the wizard's face.
"Um, I'll finish preparing dinner, then. I just figured how to properly work the oven. Am I wrong to assume that you like your steak cooked rare?"
"Wait, you cook?" inquires Fenrir, cocking his head to the side. "Without a wand?"
"Yes. Is that a problem?"
"Not at all, it's refreshin' actually. Most wizards I know rely on magic to do everythin' for 'em. It's like they don't know how to use their own hands."
"You forget, for the first eleven years of my life I didn't even know I was a wizard," replies "The Boy Who Lived" as he makes his way towards the kitchen, the werewolf following obediently after him. "I learned how to do everything the muggle way first, then again my aunt and uncle made me."
"What do you mean by that, pup?"
"Oh, err—I just did a lot of chores around the house. One of them, was cooking dinner. Uncle Vernon liked steaks, a lot of steaks actually, complete with baked potatoes and peas. So, I learned the second I was tall enough to reach the stove."
Unbeknownst to Harry, the man behind him has only been half-listening to his anecdote. Fenrir might have asked more questions if his attention was focused on his mate's words instead of his body.
Watching the wizard mind the contents within the pots on the stove, an intense, almost primal, gaze settles in the man's gaze. Fenrir is hypnotized by the entrancing movements of subtle hips and a perky bottom. Not sure if he simply finds the wizard that attractive or if the moon is influencing him, the werewolf finds himself drawn towards the oblivious Harry. Fenrir keeps moving closer until he is right behind the other male, startling the wizard a bit when he places his large hands on slim hips. From his place behind Harry, piercing blue eyes glance into a small pot containing bright, green peas.
"Never much liked vegetables."
"No one loves them, but they're good for you. After all, you can't eat meat all the time, Fenrir."
Harry's breath hitches when a large palm begins rubbing slow circles over their growing child.
"The pup's not even born yet and you already sound like a mother."
At the comment, an annoyed grumble leaves the wizard's lips. Fenrir leans down, his nose burying itself in dark locks to scent his mate. Pleased by the smell that is all Harry yet laced with a hint of his own musk, the werewolf smiles.
"So, if I eat all my vegetables, do I get dessert?"
"I didn't make dess—ah!,"
Harry's words turn into a soft moan as the werewolf begins to lick the exposed skin of the wizard's throat. Not that the Head Auror would ever admit it, but he can't help but find himself turned on by the man's primal behavior.
"Since you cleaned up so well, I'm goin' to have to scentmark everything all over again, including you, pup . . . Hmm, especially you."
Running his nose along the column of flesh, Fenrir finds his mating mark on the pale skin. A rumble of approval reverberates through his chest. Feeling the vibration, Harry starts to turn around. However, he is stopped as large hands keep him firmly in place. Viridian eyes widen a bit, Harry's first instinct to fight his way out of the tight hold. However, after quickly realizing that the man completely outmatches him in strength, the wizard leans back into the embrace—confident that Fenrir won't hurt him. He leans his head to one side, Harry exposing more of his throat in what he hopes to be a non-threatening and submissive gesture. The action is rewarded with a low rumble of approval as the man starts to slowly lick the soft flesh.
"F-Fenrir? Are you okay?"
For a few moments, the question is left hanging in the air. Harry feels the man inhaling and exhaling a few times before his inquiry is finally answered.
"Sorry pup. When it's this close to the full moon, instincts get triggered at the oddest times," explains Fenrir. He loosens his hold on Harry just before placing an apologetic kiss to his shoulder. "I should've warned you. I've been snapping at your aurors all day."
Taking a deep breath, Harry can't help the small grin from appearing on his face from his mate's reassurance.
"It's alright," replies the wizard. Now satisfied that it's safe to move away from the man, Harry starts plating dinner for the both of them. "So, how many days are there until the next full moon?"
"Two, maybe three."
Halting in his movement, Harry looks up at the werewolf with a serious expression.
"So, what should I do?"
The seemingly-valid question makes Fenrir raise his eyebrow in confusion.
"What do you mean? Just stay here like you've been doin'."
"But you'll be in your other form," Harry starts, carefully choosing his words. "Will that be safe?"
Taking the wizard's hand, Fenrir gently tugs his mate closer. Harry, intrigued by the gesture, puts up no fight and closes the distance between them. The werewolf brings the pale hand to his lips, lightly nipping Harry's fingertips. The gentle gesture is so unexpectedly intimate, that green eyes widen in shock.
"You will always be safe around me, regardless what form I take. You're my mate, you're covered in my scent and you're carrying our cub. It's my job to protect the two of you."
Letting his words sink in for a moment, Fenrir's eyes then look up to stare in still-widened emerald ones.
"Besides, if you left in your current condition, I'd just track you down. Like I warned you before, werewolves are real possessive, especially when it comes to their pregnant mates."
"Alright, I get it. I'll stay. We wouldn't want you terrorizing London, I suppose," the joking tone belies Harry's slight embarrassment as his hand is still in Fenrir's. "So, what do you usually do when you . . . err, turn?"
"Usually, I return to the pack with Derrick and Scarlet," informs Fenrir, temporarily releasing his mate. "The pack prefers to change together, but they be alright without me. This time I'll stay close to you. Probably stick to the woods around here and fill up the store house with some fresh venison. You'll be cravin' more meat the further along you get, anyway."
Harry takes a moment to digest all of this new information. Carrying their plates over to the set table, the wizard places them down with a soft clink. Both men then take a seat across from each other at the wooden table.
"You don't have to stay here with me. I'll be alright by myself for a few days if you really want to go back to your pack."
As the auror speaks, Fenrir watches him get everything settled for dinner. Without asking, Harry starts pouring water into each of their glasses and places a slice of warm bread on each of their plates from the cloth-covered basket between their plates. An amused smirk appears on the werewolf's face as he witnesses the surprisingly-domestic side of Harry Potter.
"Not that I don't think you can take care of yourself, but I'm not leavin' you here alone," Fenrir finally states, as he digs into the perfectly-cooked steak on his plate. "Mated werewolves are s'possed to spend the full moon together with their mate."
Harry is taken aback by the unsaid sentiment in the man's words. Fenrir hadn't worded it like a command or even as an argument. From the man's tone, it seems like more of a romantic suggestion. Thinking it over in his head, the wizard supposes that it would be nice to spend the night with the man that is his mate—even if he will be in canine form. Harry actually finds himself oddly looking forward to sharing intimacy of another kind with the man across from him.
"Alright, Fenrir. We'll spend the full moon together."
TWO DAYS LATER
When the full moon is ready to appear in the sky a few nights later, Fenrir is standing alone in a clearing. He figures it would be safer to shift away from Harry, allowing his wolf to discover his mate on his own terms. Standing amid the snow-covered woods surrounding Hogsmeade, the man listens to the wind traveling through the trees as he waits.
As the clouds above part, the moon in all her glory bathes the dark forest and her loyal follower. The moonlight hits his body, instantly setting into motion the transformation from man to wolf. Fenrir closes his eyes as he prepares to embrace the familiarity of lycanthropy. Bones break and reform themselves as muscles shift to support the new body of Fenrir Greyback. Thick fur sprouts from the man's skin as he rears his head back to let out a long howl. The sound signaling to all the presence of the alpha werewolf.
Mere moments later, an imposing grey wolf stands in the place of the man. Its hot breath materializes in the cold air as the wolf's piercing gaze studies his environment—the forest infinitely different through his canine senses. Sniffing the air around him, unable to find his own scent markers, the canine then trots off to mark his territory.
It is well past midnight by the time the werewolf makes its way back to the small cottage that is acting as his makeshift den. Along the way, he has managed to take down a well-built stag. Crimson blood stains the pristine snow as the wolf drags its carcass behind him. Fenrir tosses the meat into the storehouse(the permanently cold weather of Hogsmeade turning it into a convenient outdoor freezer). He makes a note to properly portion it off later once he regains the use of opposable thumbs. Not worried about the blood attracting other predators, the wolf trots up the stairs and pushes open the door, the locking mechanism activating behind him.
Licking the tasty blood off of his muzzle, the wolf enters the dark cottage. The only light comes from the dying fire and the bright moonlight streaming through the windows. Walking over to fireplace, the wolf shakes off the snow that is sticking to his fur and inbetween the crevices of his large paws. Once comfortably dry, the canine breathes in the additional scent in the air. It isn't a threatening one, so the wolf doesn't act on it immediately. The lingering scent simply suggests that the owner has been present in the alpha's temporary home for some time. Smelling his own aroma wrapped around it, an instant recognition returns to the wolf.
Mate . . .
Padding across the room, the wolf follows the intriguing scent. Fenrir is greeted by the sight of his mate safely asleep on their large bed. The moonlight that cuts through the darkness seems to focus right on the pale body. Furred ears attune themselves to the steady rise and fall of Harry's chest signaling that all is well. Nearing the smaller male, the wolf stops in his tracks when a peculiar scent hits his nose.
My mate is with cub!
With an excited wag of his tail, the large canine hops onto the furniture with a grace that also shows off the strength contained in the wolf's powerful body. Careful not to disturb the sleeping wizard, he gently lies down beside him. Oblivious to the additional company, Harry continues to sleep on his side and buried underneath the thick blanket. His dark hair once-again tousled by sleep, sharply contrasts the bed's white pillows. Trademark glasses are folded neatly on the bedside table within arm's reach. Scenting the wizard along the curve of his neck, the wolf gently licks the soft skin. The tongue bath seems to wake Harry up as he turns his body over towards Fenrir. Cracking an eye open, sleepy emerald eyes don't seem to be too shocked by the large wolf taking up most of the bed.
"Did you have fun, Fenrir?"
At his name, the alpha wolf licks him again. Harry smiles.
"I'm glad you're back," the tired auror states with a yawn. "Never realized how drafty this cottage gets at night."
With those words, the wizard snuggles closer to the warmth of the werewolf beside him. The large canine is pleased by his mate's reaction to his presence. Once Harry is settled, Fenrir adjusts himself so that his head is resting lightly on the wizard's stomach.
"Never thought that this would be my life."
Raising his head to look at Harry, the wolf has what could pass as confusion on his face. A pale hand reaches out and starts to scratch behind the wolf's ears, remembering that Fang liked to be scratched there as well. The wolf's head lowers in pleasure as the touch works its magic.
"Granted, just about most of my life has not gone the way I thought it would. However, pregnant and mated to Fenrir Greyback are definitely noteworthy surprises."
The statement earns the wizard an acknowledging rumble from the werewolf. Harry smiles at the response before scratching the tricky area that is behind the wolf's ear and extends to the back of his jaw. The attention makes the wolf inch closer as something close to a purr escapes the canine's muzzle.
"You know, when I first found out that I was pregnant, I wasn't all that scared. I had questions of course, but a part of me was a little glad. I mean, I always wanted a family, even if I'm not getting it the way I expected. More than anything, I was just worried about the baby. I mean, he's not even born yet and he's going to have to deal with being the son of Harry Potter, "The Boy Who Lived" and "The Saviour of the Wizarding World". There are people out there that aren't going to like that he's half werewolf and then there's going to be people that just won't like that he's half wizard."
A sound from the wolf catches the wizard's attention. Looking into the intense eyes of Fenrir Greyback in full lupine form comforts Harry, almost as if urging him to continue. His hand resumes petting the wolf's head, his fingers running through the surprisingly soft fur.
"Anyway, I guess being pregnant is making me a bit more sentimental. I mean, it's still my baby, so I'll love him regardless. It's just that, it sort of hurts that he's going to be disliked and judged just for being who he is, just for who his parents are. Thank Merlin, Teddy doesn't have to deal with that too much. I don't think our baby will have the same luck, unfortunately. Then again, Fenrir, you and I are very different than Remus and Tonks."
With a bittersweet smile, Harry eyes get a far-off look to them as his thoughts become internal. The wolf looks up, unsure how to soothe the worry etched on his mate's features. A heavy sigh escapes the wizard's lips as his eyes refocus on the concerned wolf staring up at him.
"Alright, enough of that for one night, hmm? Let's get some sleep. Morning will come all too soon and I have an early meeting at the Ministry tomorrow."
Moving a bit to adjust the blankets around him, Harry settles back into the pillows. Just as he gets comfortable and closes his eyes, a long tongue laps along his cheek.
"Goodnight to you, too, Fenrir," adds Harry, a grin tugging at his lips.
With a satisfied huff, the wolf once again rests his head on Harry's stomach. The steady rise and fall lulls the canine into a light sleep, his sharp ears trained for any sign of danger to his mate and unborn cub.
TO BE CONTINUED . . .
This was by far, my favorite chapter to type as well as the hardest. So, please let me know if you all enjoyed it!
Until next week,
RENKA