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.
I apologize for the unusually long wait time between this chaptersand Chapter 4. I appreciate all of you that read and I enjoy all the feedback I get from you. Unfortunately, some things came up and I had to divert my attention back to work that pays the bills. But, I'm back now, and to make up for it there will be a DOUBLE UPDATE! Chapter 6 will be up sometime in the next 24 hours.
ENJOY!
CHAPTER FIVE - Reassurances
Fenrir Greyback knows the instant that Harry returns home from his work at the Ministry of Magic. A smile tugs at his lips as his nose catches the wizard's scent.
Outside their cottage, the large werewolf is busying himself by splitting wood for the fireplace. The menial labor clears his head as the cold winter air brushes against the burly man's skin—the sensation oddly refreshing. Once the log he's been working on is split into smaller ones, he throws them on the pile beside him. Fenrir then bends down to pick up the iron wedge once again and places it into the crevice of another large log. Continuing the steady downward swing of the sledgehammer in his hands, he starts splitting the new log on his chopping block. It isn't long after this before Harry makes his way out of the cottage. Bundled up, the wizard plods his way through the heavy snow towards Fenrir.
"Hello," greets the wizard, watching the man work.
"Hullo to you too, pup."
"Fen, how on earth are you not frozen solid right now?" inquires Harry with a small frown.
A smirk appears on Fenrir's rugged face as he takes a minute to regard his own attire. While the wizard is in a thick wool coat and scarf with knit gloves covering his hands, the werewolf is wearing a pair of worn jeans and black tank. The man even has the nerve to wipe off some sweat from his brow as he stares down at his mate.
"Werewolves have high body heat, pup," replies Fenrir, resting the long handle of the sledgehammer on his shoulders. "You of all people should know that."
Remembering all the nights he has spent curling up next to the man, Harry makes a sound of acknowledgement. The wizard takes a seat on one of the larger logs nearby as his green eyes watch the larger male return to his work. With the exception of the wisps of warm breath now visible, Fenrir seems perfectly content in the freezing weather.
"The snow really doesn't bother you at all, does it?"
Before answering the question, Fenrir tosses the now split wood onto the large pile by the back door. The pieces make a satisfying clack as they join their brethren.
"Not really. Besides workin' out here gets the blood pumpin'. Can't stay cooped up too long before I want to do somethin' physical."
"Er-yeah," replies Harry, noticing the undertone. He pries his eyes away from the entrancing sight of the well-muscled man effortlessly moving another heavy log to be split. "So, how was your day?"
"Long. Glad to be done with it."
Smirking at the short, yet informative answer, Harry adjusts his scarf.
"I can relate."
The wizard is surprised when he suddenly feels a large hand gently tilt his face upward. Viridian eyes lock with sharp blue as Fenrir looks him over. The intensity of the werewolf's gaze leaves Harry speechless.
"Don't over due it, pup," states Fenrir after a few moments. "I don't want to hear that you collapsed somewhere."
The concern in his mate's voice makes Harry smile.
"I'm fine. Besides, I told Kingsley about my err-situation and he's almost as bad as you. Trust me, I won't be doing anything remotely exciting until after the baby's first birthday from the looks of things."
Harry's words seem to satisfy the werewolf who removes his hand from the wizard's face. Crouching down in the snow, the alpha wolf makes himself level with the growing bump underneath Harry's thick coat. Fenrir places his hand on top of his unborn child with nothing short of awed reverence as he feels it shifting beneath his palm. It has only been recently that the man has been able to feel the baby move, but it is quickly becoming one of his favorite activities.
"Thank you."
Getting the impression that the two words aren't heard very often from the alpha werewolf, Harry is taken aback. His viridian eyes widen a bit as they stare down at the imposing man before him.
"For what, exactly?"
"I know you're puttin' up with a lot for the sake of carryin' our cub. Just wanted to make sure you know your efforts are appreciated, is all."
"Fenrir, I think you do a rather satisfactory job of showing me how much you appreciate it," answers Harry with a grin. He reaches a hand out to run his fingers through Fenrir's grey-streaked hair. "Besides, I want this baby just as much as you do. It's not that much trouble, really."
Still crouched before his mate, Fenrir smirks at the blush of embarrassment crossing the wizard's pale face. A cold breeze flows by making Harry shiver a bit as he adjust his scarf while the werewolf stands up to his full height. Emerald eyes widen with fascination by the fluid movement of such a large body.
"Are you doing anythin' tonight?" asks Fenrir, noticing the staring from his mate.
"Not really, why?"
"There's somethin' I want to show you. I think you'll like it."
The comment makes Harry raise an eyebrow as he stares at the man quizzically.
"Fenrir, is this the beginning of one of your horribly-inappropriate, bad jokes?"
The werewolf can't help the deep chuckle that leaves his lips as he picks up the sledgehammer he had discarded moments before.
"Course not."
"That's too bad," replies Harry, leaning forward on his seat. "I could've used a good laugh."
"Just be ready to leave when the moon rises, pup."
"Alright. Where are we going?"
At the wizard's question, Fenrir smirks mischievously.
"You'll find out soon enough."
THAT NIGHT
The moonlight barely peeks through the thick foliage of the Forbidden Forest. A sniff of the air, and Fenrir instantly identifies a few centaurs as well as some stags grazing nearby. Watching his mate make his way through the dark forests just ahead of him, the tip of his wand lighting the way, Fenrir feels a smile tug on his lips. Harry meanders through the Forbidden Forest like it's his backyard. The aurors that the alpha wolf is currently charged with protecting are always a bit skittish in the sea of trees. The inexperienced wizards depend a bit too much on their lycan companions to navigate as well as protect them.
Harry, on the other hand, is confident yet wary in his strides through the ominous forest. He doesn't flinch at every noise and rustle of leaves. The auror keeps himself alert without emanating the fear that attracts the dark and less friendly creatures of the Forbidden Forest. Fenrir supposes that ease developed from the many "adventures" his mate has had in the dark woods that surround Hogwarts. And as much as the werewolf likes the adventurous side of his wizard, it makes him worry as well.
In the six weeks that have passed since the two have been officially mated, Harry has not slowed down at all(even with the added weight of their quickly-growing child). The Head Auror has been doing his normal duties at the Ministry while simultaneously attending private appointments at Saint Mungo's and preparing for the baby. Sometimes just watching the wizard makes Fenrir tired.
Fenrir does everything he can to ease the wizard's burdens as Harry won't just outright take help. Innocuous actions—like making sure that the house is well stocked with Harry's favorite foods and keeping the cottage warm—are the only ways the man is allowed to take care of the headstrong auror without an argument. Yet on the other hand, the werewolf has absolutely no problem forcibly carrying his pregnant mate to bed from time to time for much needed rest.
"Fenrir, where are we going?" calls out Harry, the wizard stopping in his tracks.
Within a few strides the man catches up to the younger man. Scenting the air once again, Fenrir turns to head off of their current path.
"This way. It's just a bit further."
With a questioning look, Harry dutifully follows after the werewolf. The two walk for a few minutes more until they reach an open area of the forest. The moonlight fills the open gap of trees and illuminates the tall grasses in the small meadow.
"Keep low and keep quiet pup," whispers Fenrir before Harry can say anything. "And put your wand out."
Following the directions, the wizard lowers his body to join his companion on the soft ground of the ancient forests. With a mutter of "Nox" from Harry's lips, the wand is extinguished. The tall grasses around them cover both men rather well while allowing the couple to look out over the empty clearing.
It takes a few moments of anxious silence, but from the darkness of the Forbidden Forest walks out a lone unicorn. Its steps are hesitant as the silver stallion makes his way fully into the grasses. He dutifully looks around for any threat. Finding nothing, he turns his head back to the darkened forest he just emerged from. And after a low whinny, four unicorn mares make their way into the meadow followed by two newborn foals.
Watching the herd of the magnificent creatures, their silvery manes and tell-tale horns shining in moonlight, Harry's eyes widen. Keeping himself low, he turns to Fenrir surprised to find that the man's intense gaze is already on him.
"Fenrir, they're amazing."
"Derrick and I found traces of them earlier today, so I figured they'd still be in the area."
Harry turns his gaze back out to the grazing herd. "The Boy Who Lived" is mesmerized by the graceful equines, smirking a bit as the two foals chase each other around the small meadow in play.
"I've only seen a unicorn once. Unfortunately, its blood was being used to sustain Voldemort," recalls Harry with a regretful sigh at the memory. "I still can't understand how anyone could kill something so . . . pure."
"Figures," whispers Fenrir harshly, his tone carrying disgust with Voldemort's past actions. "Even I never dared to kill a unicorn. Not worth the curse it carries."
Reaching a hand out to place it atop the other man's much larger one, Harry offers a small yet sincere smile.
"Thank you for bringing me here."
"Like I said, I'd thought you'd like it," replies the werewolf, the deep timbre barely concealing the affection for his mate. "It's not often you see unicorn herds around these parts. The thestrals usually take up most of the area."
At the mention of the winged, skeletal creatures, a fond smile appears on Harry's lips.
"Thestrals always remind me of my friend, Luna Lovegood."
The name instantly reminds Fenrir of the photograph he had seen at Ron and Hermione Weasley's home. Remembering the pale, blonde-haired woman in the picture, the werewolf looks over to Harry.
"This Luna, you and her are close?"
"Yeah, you could say that. During the war and everything, she always found a way to cheer me up, no matter how horrible things got. Especially when Sirius, my godfather, died. At the time, Luna was one of the few people who understood what it was like to lose a loved one so unexpectedly."
Sensing his mate's sadness, Fenrir has no idea what to say. Offering the only comfort he knows how to, he pulls the wizard into his arms. Harry is startled by the sudden embrace but quickly calms as he is settled against a warm, broad chest. Once the auror is situated in his lap, the werewolf rests his chin on top of the dark hair. The unicorns look up at the sudden movement. Yet, sensing no killing intent from the couple, the small herd makes no move to run.
For a while, the two mates stay in their positions. Harry takes comfort in the embrace as Fenrir thinks over his mate's experiences—at least, what the wizard has divulged to him.
"I can't wait to get you to the pack and away from all this wizarding shite," murmurs Fenrir as he holds Harry close. The man lowers his head a bit to inhale the soft scent wafting from the wizard in his arms.
"Fen, I know you mean well, but I'm never going to be completely free from the wizarding world. No matter how far away you take me," Harry states, smiling at the man's possessiveness. "Besides, a part of me would still miss England, Diagon Alley, especially. There's a great restaurant there I'd think you'd like. They have a decent ale that I can't wait to taste again after the baby's born."
Fully aware of Harry's subtle attempt to sidestep the issue, Fenrir runs with the change in conversation.
"Ale sounds nice, but you should try the vodka they have in Russia. Nice and smooth with a strong kick at the end."
Turning around in the man's lap, Harry raises himself up a bit—just enough to lock eyes with Fenrir. The green bespectacled gaze takes it's time perusing the man's well-defined face.
"Let's go home," suggests Harry suddenly. His hand already disappearing into the folds of Fenrir's coat for the port key that will transport them directly to their cottage.
"Already?" the man asks with a raised eyebrow at the sudden request. "You don't like it out here or somethin'?"
"No that's not it. I love it out here. And as romantic as this setting is, I'd prefer to be in our bed when I show you my err-appreciation for bringing me here."
At the wanderings of a smaller hand across his chest paired with the light kisses now being pressed along his jaw, Fenrir grins. The wizard's somewhat awkward attempt at seduction makes the werewolf smirk with its unintentional effectiveness. As brave as Harry is in the face of danger, he still retains a bit of his juvenile shyness when it comes to talking about anything sexual. This trait however fades away the second the wizard is worked up enough to no longer be self conscious of his actions. A task that Fenrir has no problem helping Harry out with.
Arousal grows and begins to travel through the werewolf with his mate's attentions. Then again, the man has never had any complaints with this method of distraction. If Harry wants to use sex to make the man forget the argument-inducing path of their conversation, who is Fenrir to deny him?
"You read my mind, pup."
Wrapping an arm around Harry's slim waist, the werewolf activates the port key and transports them back home. The unicorns look up at the flare of magic but then quickly return to grazing in the moonlit meadow.
A WEEK OR SO LATER
The snowy village of Hogsmeade is bustling as its residents finish their daily errands. Wizards and witches of all shapes and sizes enter the small shops and local eateries lining the snow-covered streets. The Three Broomsticks is crowded with its loyal, rowdy patrons that come in to escape the cold with a warm butterbeer. Walking by the establishment, Harry Potter continues his conversation with the red-headed werewolf beside him, the scent of the sweet drink tempting his tastebuds.
"It really was beautiful out there in the heart of the woods. There's just endless nature around you and those unicorns were breathtaking. I completely understand why Fenrir loves the depths of the forest as much as he does."
"I figured he'd take you out there," comments Scarlett with a knowing smile. "I bet the two of you had some fun afterwards, eh?"
Blushing a bit at the insinuation, Harry clears his throat. The woman beside him chuckles at the expression, knowing instantly that she's right.
"Umm, Scarlett,"begins the wizard with slight hesitation, "Since that night, Fenrir keeps mentioning the pack and his life back in the Taiga. I think he's a bit homesick. Do you think thatmaybe he's trying to hint that he wants to go back?"
Sensing the worry in Harry's question, the red-headed werewolf smiles reassuringly.
"Well, as long as I've known him, Fenrir is fond of anywhere he can run wild and get a good drink. However, he is an alpha so he's going to want to return to his pack eventually, wherever they may be. Sure the pack doesn't completely rely on him, but we still look up to him as our leader. He has responsibilities."
"I know, and it's not like I want him to give them up or anything," states Harry, his face reflecting the seriousness of his words. "I just wish he understood that I have responsibilities too."
Reaching into his Honeydukes bag, the pregnant wizard pulls out a chocolate frog to nibble on as they walk. He pockets the collectible card with a smile as he sees the familiar face of Albus Dumbledore on its flat surface.
"I'm a wizard, I'm not a werewolf. Clearly, I don't understand everything that happens in a pack. I just don't know how to go about being a good mate for Fenrir."
Scarlett watches Harry speak with a fond look on her face. His eyes are downcast as the wizard retreats into his thoughts with a look of worry on his features. The woman places a supportive hand on his shoulder, causing bright green eyes to look up.
"Harry, you are doing just fine. Besides, there's no wrong or right way to be a mate, especially to an alpha like Fenrir Greyback. Just be yourself, after all, that's why Fenrir claimed you in the first place, right? And don't worry, you'll get the hang of werewolf pack dynamics. It wasn't easy for me to get either."
"But you're a werewolf. I thought that hierarchy was based on instinct, doesn't it come naturally to you?"
"Well, it was a bit different for me," begins the red head, smirking at Harry's confusion. "I wasn't born a werewolf and I wasn't attacked by one. I chose to be a werewolf in order to be with Derrick, I let him bite me under a full moon."
"You chose lycanthropy?" Harry asks, lowering his voice to avoid drawing unwanted attention to their conversation.
"Yes. At the time, it still wasn't normal for a witch to live with a werewolf. There was still a lot of prejudice and fear, on both sides. The way I saw it, it was either I had to bear with the pain of leaving Derrick or bear with the pain of his bite. I made my choice, rather easily in fact. Harry, you have to decide for yourself what you are willing to do to be with Fenrir."
Thinking over the woman's words, Harry becomes silent.
"Do you ever regret it, Scarlett?"
"What? Being a werewolf?"
"No," the wizard quickly clarifies. "What I meant was, do you regret sacrificing so much to be with Derrick?"
"I don't think of it as sacrificing anything. Derrick never asked me to become a werewolf, he already loved me as I was. And even as a werewolf, I still have my wand for the occasional spell and I still see my family from time to time. Now, I'm not saying that you should ask Fenrir to bite you or anything, Harry. Nowadays, plenty of werewolves mate wizards and witches without turning them. While there are still prejudices, it isn't nearly as bad as things used to be a few decades ago. Didn't Lupin marry a witch without biting her?"
"Yes, he did," confirms Harry, remembering his pseudo-godfather. "Remus and Tonks were very happy together, they loved each other so much. Their son Teddy is proof of that."
"Exactly. You and Fenrir will be just fine. I can tell that the alpha is completely crazy about you. And to be honest, I can't wait to see him as a father."
The comment makes Harry chuckle as he subconsciously rubs a hand over his abdomen. A few well-cast charms hide the wizard's swollen stomach as well as protect the growing baby from the passersby on the street. As they turn a corner, Harry and Scarlett find Derrick walking towards them. The tall man's face breaks into an easy smile as he spots his mate as well as his alpha's strolling along. Making his way through the mass of people, he approaches Scarlett and leans in to share a quick greeting kiss.
"Hello, I've been looking for you two. It's hard to distinguish scents with all these people filling the streets," begins the beta werewolf. "Harry, Fenrir wanted me to tell you that he'd be a bit late. He had to go to the Ministry to talk with Shacklebolt."
"That's right, Kingsley mentioned that he wanted to talk with Fenrir the other day," Harry recalls, a thoughtful expression on the young man's face. "The Ministry is very anxious to have a complete, comprehensive map of the Forbidden Forest. It requires a lot of diplomacy to allow your group into the territories of so many magical creatures."
The trio is suddenly interrupted when a dark-haired witch runs up to Derrick, in her hands is a heavy and ancient looking book.
"Derrick, I need to see Mr. Greyback immediately! It's important!"
"Abigail, can it wait? Fenrir's in a meeting at the Ministry at the moment. Who knows when he'll get out of it."
"But it's really important!" insists the witch. "I think I found out something amazing that could change everything we thought about the Forbidden Forest! I just couldn't wait to tell him about it."
"What's going on, Abigail?" questions Harry, noticing how crestfallen the witch becomes upon hearing that Fenrir is otherwise occupied.
Turning her attention away from Derrick, Abigail is surprised to see her boss standing beside Scarlett. In her excitement, she had completely missed the powerful wizard.
"Head Auror Potter? What are you doing out here, sir?" the witch inquires as she nervously straightens out her robes. "Was there a problem in the last report?"
"No, it was perfectly fine, as always. And Abigail, I've told you before you don't have to call me 'sir'," replies the auror with a good-natured smirk. "It makes me feel old."
"Oh, yes, of course. I apologize."
Taking a moment, Harry thinks over what exactly to tell the younger auror. Abigail is a clever witch(she often reminds him of a younger version of Hermione), so he knows that lying is an insult to her intelligence. However, he still isn't exactly comfortable with letting her know the exact details of the relationship that he has with Fenrir Greyback.
"I'm actually staying with Fenrir," divulges the wizard, answering the witch's question. "For a while now, I've been a bit curious to see your progress in the Forbidden Forest myself and Fenrir was kind enough to give me a bit of a private tour the other night. It's very impressive that you all have made such headway in such a short amount of time."
"Oh, I didn't know that you and were friends."
"Yeah, we're Mates," replies Harry, the double meaning of the term making a grin appear on his face as well as the two werewolves beside him. He subconsciously rubs the side of his neck, touching Fenrir's claiming mark that is still embedded in his skin.
Unfortunately, the action shifts the collar of the Head Auror and fully reveals the claiming mark adorning his pale skin. Spotting the mark on Harry's throat, Abigail blanches considerably as she recognizes what the bruise means. Then again, after spending so much time with lycanthropes it doesn't take much for her mind to make the connection.
"Oh! That's-ah, wonderful," comments the witch awkwardly after realizing that she was openly staring at Harry's throat.
"Abigail, you said that you had a discovery you wanted to share with us?" prompts Derrick, effectively changing the subject.
"Oh right! Well, I was looking over some older maps of the Forbidden Forest, trying to compare their notes to ours."
"And, what is the issue?"
"Well, as most of us know, the Forbidden Forest is ancient. Some of the trees have been dated as thousands of years old, some are even from Merlin's time. However, there are new, completely different tree species in the forest that are as young as a century or two. There are even a few species of trees and shrubbery that are native to areas of the Americas and remote parts of Asia, obviously these plants did not come to the Forbidden Forest naturally. These trees were purposefully transplanted here and over time they have massively changed the ecosystem."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that the Forbidden Forest isn't a natural occurrence," replies the witch, finally coming to her conclusion(much to Derrick's relief). "It was specifically cultivated. And I think that it was designed that way in an effort to attract certain magical creatures."
"Why?"Scarlett inquires, voicing the question on everyone's mind.
"Well, the most logical answer is to protect Hogwarts."
"But the school has all sorts of wards and spells to protect it," comments Harry, taking a moment to think. "Unless, the creatures in the Forbidden Forest are supposed to be a backup plan in case those spells are negated."
"Exactly!" Abigail exclaims with excitement all over her soft features. "Working on this theory, I sent some samples to Hogwarts' Herbology teacher, Professor Longbottom, who has confirmed my findings. He even sent me this book for reference."
Opening the book in her arms, Abigail begins flipping through the aged pages. Apparently, the tome is an ancient guide to magical plant life.
"The tall grasses within the Forbidden Forest are a favorite of thestrals and unicorns as well. Some of the tree species are known to be favorites of Grindylows. Even the geography of the land is excellent for werewolf packs as the area has a vast underground cave system. Not to mention the trolls and other creatures attracted by the. . . "
As Abigail continues on, Harry, Scarlett, and Derrick are silent as they process all the information being told to them by the witch. Multiple looks of surprise are on each of their faces, however the trio all seem to come to the same conclusion.
"So basically, you're saying that the Ministry made this forest and is enlisting us to fix their runaway problem?" questions Derrick, before a smirk appears on his face. "Fenrir will just love to hear this."
"Well, I didn't say that the Ministry planted it initially," Abigail protests, a blush on her face. "By the look of things, I think parts of the Forbidden Forest were actually planted around the time Hogwarts was erected in the 10th century. The Forbidden Forest itself is ancient, there's no way to date the exact time it started to grow."
Harry turns to the clever witch with a smile.
"Good work, Abigail."
"T-thank you, sir. I mean, Harry."
LATER THAT EVENING
When Harry makes his way into the cottage, a sigh of relief leaves his lips at the warmth inside the small home. He is a bit disheartened to find that Fenrir has still not returned from his business at the Ministry. Shedding his layers of clothes until he is in a long sleeved t-shirt and jeans, he makes his way to the kitchen. The wizard puts away his purchases before immediately heading towards the bedroom. As the pregnancy continues on, the "Boy Who Lived" finds himself becoming tired much quicker than usual.
So, intending to only doze off for about twenty minutes or so, the wizard sinks into the welcoming, yet empty, bed. He removes his glasses, placing them gently on the bedside table before snuggling under the blankets.
When he opens his eyes next, Harry is surprised to awaken to a darkened cottage. His twenty-minute nap had apparently transformed into a four-hour one.
However, Harry is more surprised to find himself lying on top of a sleeping Fenrir. The wizard's cheek is pressed against the firm warmth of the man's chest, his chest hair ticking the sensitive skin. Deep in sleep, the werewolf snores away, making a chuckle escape Harry's lips. Slowly, the wizard raises his head. It takes a few moments for emerald eyes to adjust to the low light as they take in the man's features that have been softened by sleep. From a quick look around their bedroom, the werewolf had returned home from the Ministry and simply joined his sleeping mate in bed. Fenrir had not even bothered to aim his clothing anywhere near the laundry hamper. Moving slowly, the wizard starts to raise his body in order to move off of the large man.
"Where are you goin', pup?" grumbles out the man, his speech slurred a bit from sleep.
For a moment, the wizard is speechless by the reaction that the rough quality of Fenrir's voice arouses. It takes a few breaths to steady himself before settling back on the man beneath him.
"I was just going to my side of the bed, that's all."
"Why?"
"Well, it can't be too comfortable to sleep with me on top of you."
At the comment, Fenrir wraps his arm tighter around the wizard and settles him back on his chest.
"I was doin' just fine until you started to move around. Besides, if I didn't want you here, I wouldn't have put you here."
"Oh, Alright then."
With that settled, Harry relaxes completely on the man's chest. A large hand begins running up and down his back, easing him back into sleep. As his eyes start to drift close, Harry asks the questions that have been on his mind since he woke up.
"So, how long have you been back?"
"A few hours," grumbles out Fenrir.
"Oh, did everything go alright with Kingsley?"
The quasi-innocent question makes the werewolf smile. Running his hand through the unruly locks of his mate he cracks an eye open.
"Heard about that, did you?"
"Yeah. Word travels fast around the Ministry of Magic."
Fenrir chuckles at the comment, knowing the truth of those words. However, as his mind shifts to his meeting with Kingsley, he takes a deep breath—effectively rising the wizard on his chest with the effort. Harry smirks at the movement as the man's breathing returns to its normal pace.
"It's nothin' to worry about. He just wanted to make sure everythin' is on track."
"Good. I was a bit worried."
As Harry falls back asleep, Fenrir stays awake as a certain memory replays through his mind.
FLASHBACK
"Ah, Fenrir, I'm glad that you made it. How's everything in the Forbidden Forest?"
"Cut the crap, Kingsley."
At the annoyed tone, Kingsley raises an eyebrow. From his seat at his hand-carved desk, the Minister of Magic watches as the large werewolf strides his way into the spacious office. Fenrir's gait instantly lets the wizard know that the man is in no mood for any games. However, Kingsley still isn't completely sure what has him so upset.
"It's common courtesy to inquire into a guest's work, Fenrir."
"We both know that I'm not here to talk about the Forbidden Forest. You could've just sent your Patronus or an owl, for that."
With a deep breath, Kingsley leans back in his seat. Resting his elbows on the arms of the chair, he folds his hands together in thought. The Minister takes a moment to think over his words, as he has no desire to further enrage an already-annoyed werewolf.
"Alright then, I'll just address the issue then. Harry has told me about his situation, that the two of you are mated and that he is pregnant with your child."
Letting the statement hang in the air between them, Kingsley keeps his gaze even on the man before his desk. Fenrir's eyes sharpen, but other than that the werewolf makes no movement to acknowledge the statement.
"I have made sure that all his work for the next six months is nothing too strenuous," continues Shacklebolt. "I've also forbidden him from going out on field investigations. Even though this means I'll be without my best expert on the Dark Arts for quite some time."
"And?"
At the single word, Kingsley's attention is instantly refocused on the werewolf. Fenrir's tone may suggest his frustration but his body language isn't as subtle. The intimidating man glares down at the Minister of Magic in a way few, if any people, would dare.
"And what, Fenrir?"
"Don't insult my intelligence, Shacklebolt. I know that you have 'grievances', so let's hear 'em."
Leaning forward, the large wizard moves his elbows to rest on the surface of the polished desk.
"I'm concerned, I won't lie. Everything is alright now, since this development is only known to select people. However, once the truth comes out to the public, things will be very hard for the two of you. Harry, especially."
"The pup and I will handle it, when it comes up."
"Heed my warning Fenrir. Don't do anything that will give reason for the Ministry to take action. When this becomes known, believe that there will be those that will think you took advantage of Harry. For better or worse, Harry is a symbol, he's the 'Savior of the Wizarding World'. People don't react well to their symbols being . . . tainted, for the lack of a better word. They might even deem it the type of action to remove your mate and child from you."
At the words, a noticeable darkness settles on the alpha wolf. A low growl emits from his throat as the mere thought of Harry being taken away from him makes his inner wolf see red. Stalking closer to the ornate desk, Fenrir places his hands on the surface with the eerie calmness of the apex predator that he is. He locks his intense gaze with the Minister's as his voice comes out in a low, warning tone.
"Harry Potter is mine, Kingsley. He gave himself to me of his own will. I personally promise you that if the Ministry even attempts to take him or our cub I will start a rampage on all of you wizards that will make Voldemort's reign seem like a fuckin' fairy tail, got me?"
For a moment, silence passes between the two men. Kingsley Shacklebolt cannot help the fear that the intense blue eyes instill. Anger is one thing, but the coldness in the werewolf's gaze is truly terror inspiring. Despite his recent change in disposition, this is the same man that has been accused of tearing wizards to shreds during the war. Not that large enough pieces of the victims' bodies have been found to confirm such atrocities. However, despite all of these thoughts, what truly leaves the Minister of Magic speechless is the reason behind them. This pure rage is generated from the affection that the notorious werewolf has developed for Harry James Potter.
"You're wasting that threat on me, however I will pass it along to the rest of the Ministry if you like," begins Kingsley with a knowing smile. "Fenrir, I have nothing against you. And Harry, is an adult, contrary to popular belief. He makes his own decisions."
"Then why this big meetin'?"
"Two reasons. The first reason, even though I am happy for you and Harry, you still have a job for the Ministry to do. As Minister, I just want to make sure that you aren't getting distracted."
"You have the progress map, Kingsley. Obviously, I'm not."
The man lets out a chuckle. His stern face wrinkling up in a smile as his eyes drift over to look at the parchment map sitting on his desk. To Fenrir's credit, the Forbidden Forest is more than halfway charted. The Ministry is more than satisfied with the detailed survey of the lands and the various territories established by the forest's denizens. It has been six months, and the team has made excellent progress and all without any major injury. Even the members of the Ministry that remain distrustful of Fenrir are satisified with the werewolf's efficiency.
"So, I hear that Harry now lives with you?"
Raising an eyebrow at Kingsley's question, Fenrir's face hardens with anger.
"Did you think I'd leave my pregnant mate alone?"
Putting up his hands in no offense, the Minister continues.
"I was just curious. Let's move on to reason number two. I already can't use Harry in the field due to your 'influence'. I'm afraid that he won't be able to maintain his office as Head Auror if you don't take extra care of him."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?! I take care of him just fine!"
"What I mean, Mr. Greyback," begins Kingsley, his own tone now as hard as the werewolf's. "Is that he thinks that he can do everything. We both know that Harry is tough, he always has been. However, he is pregnant and now his priority is to take care of the child he is carrying."
The Minister of Magic takes a breath as prepares to level some cold hard truth to the werewolf before him.
"Head Auror isn't just a title, it is a highly-coveted position that all my aurors are constantly vying for. So far, Harry has done an excellent job proving that he deserves the position even at his young age. Every auror that follows him, respects him and we all are indebted to him for ridding the world of the Dark Lord. However, when this news comes out—and you are fooling yourself if you think it won't—there is a very high possibility some will use it to discredit all the work that Harry has done. I don't want that to happen, do you?"
"No, the pup loves his work," Fenrir admits. "It would devastate him."
"Exactly, so I suggest that we both increase our efforts to ease things for him. After all, even the Minister of Magic can only hold off the 'Daily Prophet' for so long. When that day comes, we'll have to think of the best way to present this situation."
The undeniable truth of the man's words make Fenrir think long and hard. As much as he wants to keep Harry away from all the bureaucracy of the wizarding world, it is becoming more and more evident that it is impossible. Fenrir knows better than anyone that the Ministry of Magic is capable of making life a living hell, especially for Harry.
"Kingsley, I want your word that you'll do everything to protect Harry and the cub. I don't give a shite what any wizard says about me, but they haven't done anythin' wrong."
"You have my word," agrees Kingsley.
Returning to the present, Fenrir eyes drift closed as he takes a deep sniff of his mate, letting Harry's scent linger before exhaling it. His arms tighten ever so slightly around the slumbering wizard, the werewolf needing to feel the reassuring weight of his pregnant mate in his arms. At the action, Harry cuddles even closer to Fenrir with a soft smile on his lips.
TO BE CONTINUED . . .
So, a bit more plot is in this chapter, as well as more development in Fenrir and Harry's relationship. I personally love the wood-splitting scene, it was the most fun to write for me.
Anywho, later days!
-RENKA