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.

Again, I apologize for the unusually long wait time between these chapters and 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 here's the second part of this week's DOUBLE UPDATE!

ENJOY!

CHAPTER SIX - Culture Clash

Harry Potter has never been one to let any task unnerve him. After all, he is a Gryffindor and he faces every endeavor with the courage for which his House was founded upon. Whether it's battling a Basilisk or defeating dark wizards, Head Auror Harry James Potter always manages to keep his wits about him. However, with this particular task before him, even the "Saviour of the Wizarding World," has a few hesitations.

With a deep breath, he firms his grip on the stepstool that he is currently perched upon as he shifts his weight in order to raise his foot. The pregnant wizard is attempting to go from the first step of the stool to the second highest step. A normally-easy feat that is complicated by Harry's additional weight.

"What are you doin'?" questions Fenrir, as he walks into the main room of the cottage.

"I'm cleaning," Harry replies simply. His focus on reestabilishing his balance. "Though at the moment, I'm simply trying not to fall."

At the words, Fenrir quickly crosses the room. With one large hand on the small of Harry's back, he provides the wizard with the extra stabilty needed to complete his task.

"Thanks."

"Not a problem."

With his wand sticking out of his back pocket, Harry arranges the rag in his hand until he reaches a clean area on the cloth. The wizard's eyes focus on the cobweb that has evaded his cleaning for the last half of an hour or so. Now that he is properly balanced on the step ladder, Harry finally reaches the dust-collecting web at the very top of the fireplace with a victorious grin.

"I've tried all the spells and charms I can think of but none of them are getting the house quite clean enough," informs the Head Auror, as he continues to dust the mantle of the fireplace. "So, now I'm doing it the muggle way."

"Is it workin'?" asks Fenrir, removing his support once his pregnant mate is balanced again.

"A little."

Harry turns around to see the imposing man chuckling to himself. Taking a moment to step down off the ladder, the wizard stuffs his dust rag into his pocket. He raises an eyebrow at Fenrir's unexpected reaction.

"What exactly is so funny?"

"You're nestin', pup. It's cute, is all."

"Nesting?"

"When a female werewolf gets pregnant in the pack, she cleans out her den to make sure that everythin' is in order for her cubs," Fenrir explains as he takes a seat on the sofa. "I guess since you're carryin' my cubs, you're acting a bit like a wolf mother."

"Figures," replies the wizard with a roll of his eyes. "Then again, I've been having all the other symptoms of pregnancy: nausea, cramps, food cravings, ankle swelling . . . why not this too?"

"Well, I like some of your pregnancy symptoms."

"Oh really? Like what exactly?"

"Well, for one, you crave sex more."

Harry blushes a bit at the statement. Turning to face the man completely, green eyes search Fenrir's face for any sign of deception. Finding nothing but the man's leering(but honest) stare, he sighs in defeat.

"Do I really crave sex more?"

"You haven't noticed?" inquires Fenrir. The werewolf leaning back in his seat as he folds his hand behind his head. "You practically tackled me into bed the other night. Not that I'm complainin', mind you."

"I've never paid much attention to it . . ."

As Harry lets his words drift off, his eyes shift to look appreciatively at his mate. Viridian eyes travel over the man's well-muscled body, stopping every once in a while to linger on the wizard's favorite features. Harry can barely contain a groan as Fenrir carelessly flexes his muscles in a full-body stretch.

"Although, now that you mention it, Fenrir, I suppose that I have."

Harry walks towards the werewolf with a confidence that he normally doesn't possess when it comes to sexual matters. Maybe it is the surge of hormones that is now flowing through his body. Or maybe he is just more secure in his newfound attraction to men, specifically the man currently watching his every move. Regardless of any of his behavioral conjecture, Harry is completely certain that he wants Fenrir—now.

Using the arm of the couch to stabilize himself, the wizard straddles the man's waist and leans down to kiss him. Not expecting the sudden exchange, but not fighting it either, Fenrir meets his mate's enthusiasm with his own. A growl leaves the werewolf's throat as pale hands quickly unbutton the shirt covering his chest. Harry's fingers stroke along the man's warm skin as their kiss deepens, the wizard liking the masculinity that seems to roll off the man at all times. A moan escapes Harry's lips as the man's hands squeeze his ass encouragingly. When they part for air, Fenrir's licks over the kiss-bruised lips with a satisfied groan.

"You taste like chocolate, pup."

"Oh, I went into Hogsmeade the other day and bought a few chocolate frogs," comments Harry as his hands start removing the man's shirt from his shoulders. "I've been craving them all week."

"Careful, too many sweets aren't good for the cub."

"Tell that to your cub. Besides meat, that's all he wants to eat."

As they continue their activities, the rest of the memories from that day in Hogsmeade begin to come back to Harry's mind.

"I ran into Abigail," continues the wizard as he tosses the werewolf's shirt over his shoulder. "Did she tell you her findings?"

"Yeah, I got the gist of it from Derrick. It does help things a bit."

"I think Abigail fancies you. Every time I mention you now, she blushes like a tomato. It's adorable."

Fenrir grumbles in acknowledgement, too far engulfed in removing Harry's t-shirt to truly care.

"Should I be concerned?"

"I'm all yours, pup. You know that."

A satisfied smile appears on the wizard's face as he sits half naked on top of his bare-chested werewolf. He slides his palms up and down the planes of Fenrir's torso, encouraging the low growl that is reverberating through the man's chest.

"Is there anyone else that I should worry about?" asks Harry as he leans down and starts to kiss along the werewolf's throat.

"You defeated Voldemort, who the hell would you have to worry about?"

For a moment, a look of complete seriousness appears on Harry's face.

"I just like to be prepared, Fenrir. I like to know what I'm going up against."

Sensing the tone tainting his wizard's lust, Fenrir leans up to whisper into the other's ear.

"In a minute, you're about to be up against a wall. Other than that, you don't have anything else to worry about."

Harry rolls his eyes good-naturedly before leaning in to continue their kiss. And true to his word, the man gets up from the couch and wraps his mate's long legs around his hips, before pressing him up against the nearest-available wall. Pinning the wizard there, the werewolf starts kissing the pale skin that is exposed to him. Sharp canines graze over the claim mark on the side of the wizard's throat. As aggressive as his actions are, Fenrir makes sure to be gentle with his pregnant mate. His large hands slide to Harry's swollen stomach, softly caressing the curve of their baby as their kiss continues. Engulfed in their passions, both men are startled when a gruff voice suddenly sounds through their door.

"Yo Fenrir, you in there?!"

The werewolf grumbles in frustration however he doesn't stop his ministrations. Loud knocking on the door is now heard as the couple continue kissing, both sharing the hope that their visitor will eventually give up.

Unfortunately, the person proves to be rather persistent and it is Harry that has to forcibly separate their lips. Taking a moment to catch his breath, the wizard looks down into piercing eyes of his mate—who still has him pinned against the wall.

"Go in the back," states Fenrir as he places the wizard back on his feet. "Stay there until I tell you it's safe to come back out."

"Why?" asks Harry, his eyebrow raised in confusion.

"If it's who I think it is, I don't want him anywhere near you."

"Who is it?"

"It's another werewolf," grumbles out Fenrir, walking away to grab their discarded shirts.

"You know him though, right?"

"Unfortunately."

"So, is he dangerous or something?"

At the question paired with Harry's tone of worry, Fenrir can't help but laugh. The action making it a bit difficult for the large man to re-button his shirt.

"You're looking at the most dangerous werewolf there is, pup. I just don't like him much, is all."

Harry can't help but smile at the man's stroke to his own ego. Taking his shirt from Fenrir, he slips it back on over his own torso. The oversized material practically hangs off the wizard, however it effectively hides the swell of Harry's belly.

"Well, I can help."

"Harry, I'm not letting you put yourself in danger. Now that you're startin' to show, we're not taking any chances. Go on, now."

At the gentle insistence instead of an order, the wizard sighs before retreating to their bedroom. The second that Harry leaves, the man then goes and opens door. His blue eyes narrow as they take in the other werewolf. The man is tall, almost reaching Fenrir's own height, with dark blonde locks around his well-defined features. A long scar runs along the side of face and down his throat before it disappears into his shirt. His amber eyes glare with amusement.

"Took you long enough to answer, Fenrir."

"What the fuck are you doing here, Mason?"

The question is left unanswered as Mason sniffs the air. His brow furrows as a strange, yet intriguing scent seems to emanate from Fenrir—as well as from further inside the cottage.

"Who's scent is all over you?"

"None of your damn business. Now answer my question."

"Well, I heard you found your mate," Mason replies, an annoyed sigh leaving his lips. "Can't blame me for bein' a bit curious."

"Like hell I can't. A letter could've satisfied your curiosity just fine. I don't need your mangy scent stinkin' up the place."

"Well, I'm here now. Are you going to let me in or what?"

"Still haven't given me a good reason why I should."

"C'mon Fenrir."

Rolling his eyes, Fenrir steps to the side, a wordless gesture that the slightly smaller wolf can enter the cottage. Taking the invitation, or at least what passes for one, the blonde crosses the threshold with an amused chuckle.

"It really hurts that my own big brother doesn't want to see me."

"Just because we were raised together, don't make us related," clarifies Fenrir, closing the door. "I haven't seen you since the pack disbanded once Voldemort first took over. If memory serves, you were runnin' off with your tail between your legs and you didn't stop until you got all the way to Canada, right?"

"I left in order to start a new pack far away from all these damn wizards. Unlike one of us, I refused to get wrapped up in their war."

The excuse receives a disbelieving scoff from Fenrir as he crosses his arms.

"It would've only been a matter of time before Voldemort found you all. I just choose to face the threat head on instead of run from it. If anything, the bastard was relentless."

Thinking back on the snake-like man, an anger settles over the werewolf that he has never felt before. Usually, Fenrir felt no more than passing indifference whenever his thoughts drifted to the Dark Lord, but now he feels a simmering rage. Hell, to be perfectly honest, part of the werewolf wants to find a way to resurrect the man just to indulge in the delight of ripping him to shreds.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that this change of Fenrir's opinion has to do with the identity of his new mate.

"So, where is she?" asks Mason, bringing the older werewolf back to the conversation.

"Who?"

"Your mate."

"What makes you think I'd let you anywhere near my mate?"Fenrir retorts, the man absently wondering how long he can keep Harry away from his "little brother".

"There's a scent all over this place that's not your usual stench, Fenrir. Smells nice actually, even with the magic coverin' this Ministry-owned house."

"Fenrir, is everything alright out here?"

Fenrir turns around to see Harry coming out from the back of the house—the werewolf actually surprised that Harry hadn't come out sooner. The green-eyed wizard approaches the two werewolves with a raised eyebrow.

"Why the hell do you have Harry Potter in your house?" asks Mason, the man's eyes going immediately to the tell-tale scar on the wizard's brow.

"He's here because I want him here, Mason. Can't say the same for you though."

Looking from his mate to the stranger, Harry has an expectant look on his face. With an inward grumble, Fenrir speaks up.

"Harry, this arse is Mason Greyback."

"Greyback?"

"Yeah, that 'arse' and I are brothers," explains Mason.

A look of complete shock crosses the wizard's face at this revelation. He looks from Fenrir to Mason, trying to find any similarities in face structure. Even though they are not blood-related, both alpha wolves possess a commanding presence and have a similar intensity to their gazes. Where Fenrir is taller and broad framed, Mason is leaner and has almost a feline quality to his movements. However, looking at either man, even Harry can tell that both Greybacks are predators in their prime.

Once the new information has fully sunk in, green eyes focus completely on the larger werewolf.

"You never told me you had a brother, Fenrir."

"I don't. We were just raised together by the wolf that turned us. It ain't by blood or anythin'."

"Oh," replies Harry, still a bit overwhelmed by all of this. "Fenrir, could you join me in the kitchen for a bit?"

"I'll be there in a moment, pup." starts Fenrir. "I need to talk to my 'brother' about a few things."

"Take your time."

Watching the wizard leave, Mason's gaze lingers a bit longer than necessary on Harry's retreating form. A warning growl escapes Fenrir's throat as he notices the hint of arousal that emanates from the other werewolf.

"What's got you all bent out of shape?"

Fenrir's sharp blue eyes narrow dangerously. It literally takes every ounce of willpower in his body to not attack the wolf openly ogling his mate.

"I don't like you lookin' at him like that."

"Just appreciatin' the view. Pity not all wizards look like that. It might make their whole lot a bit more tolerable," comments Mason with a leering grin. "So, back to business then. Where's this mate of yours? You hidin' her from me?"

"My mate is male, Mason. And I don't have to hide him from anyone, least of all you."

Without waiting for a response, Fenrir leaves the room and follows after Harry into the kitchen. Once he enters the room he is met with a glare from emerald eyes. Harry simply stares at him with his arms crossed over his chest. His relaxed body language completely discordant with the look on his face.

"What?" questions Fenrir, honestly confused by the wizard's mood.

"Were you ever going to mention that you had a brother?"

"You never asked."

At the lame excuse, Harry's glare intensifies. He takes a deep breath before stepping closer to the man. His voice comes out in a harsh whisper.

"Ron barely speaks to me, but I told him and Hermione. I told my two best friends in the entire world, that the two of us were mated and that I'm pregnant. Do you have any idea how awkward that was?"

"Harry—"

"But you couldn't even manage to write a letter to your brother—that you never even bothered to mention ever—in all this time."

"Harry, if you'd let me, I'd let the entire world know that you're mine. You're the one that insists on using spells to cover up my mark and hide that you are carrying our cub."

At the remark, Harry's glare dies down. Reaching a hand out to Fenrir's arm, his face softens. The werewolf is unnerved by the complete mood swing, but leans into the touch anyway.

"Fenrir, we both agreed that the best way to keep our privacy and keep our child safe is for me to use these concealment spells in public. I don't like doing it either, but I also don't want our personal life being invaded by strangers. We also agreed that it was perfectly fine to tell our family and friends that we are together. So, even if you didn't tell me about him, you didn't exactly tell him about me, now did you?"

Realizing that he is still in the wrong, Fenrir runs a hand through his grey-streaked hair.

"Werewolves are different than wizards and muggles. We don't meet up for holidays and share our lives like that. Hell, the only reason our sire raised us together was because he wanted heirs. There's good reason why my 'brother' and I like havin' an entire ocean between us."

Harry looks up at his mate, studying the man's face. With a resigning sigh, the wizard moves closer to the werewolf. Strong arms automatically wrap around Harry bringing him against a firm chest. Hearing Fenrir take a deep inhale of his scent, the auror smiles.

"Alright, I forgive you. Your brother is here now, so what do you want to do?"

At the question, Fenrir stares down at his mate. If he's honest with himself there's only one thing that the alpha wants to do—besides restarting what Mason interrupted earlier. The werewolf takes the wizard's hand and walks them both back out to the main room of the cottage. When they stop, right before Mason, Fenrir wraps his arm firmly around Harry's waist. His large palm settles right on top of the growing child.

"Mason, Harry Potter is my mate and is carrying my cub. If you don't like it, fuck off."

"Wait, you're mated to a wizard? You're fuckin' mated to Harry Potter!" the man exclaims, too shocked to acknowledge the rest of Fenrir's declaration. "You haven't even turned him!"

"What I do with my mate is my business," states Fenrir, his muscles tensing in annoyance from the other alpha wolf in the room questioning his choice in mate. "Besides, the pup's fine just the way he is."

"Says the wolf that used to be some dark wizard's lapdog. What, now that he's gone you needed a new master? Decided on one that you could fuck as well as serve this time?"

As the words leave his brother's mouth they ignite every dominant instinct within Fenrir. Mason may be considered his brother, but at the moment he is just a challenger to Fenrir's authority as well as a possible threat to his mate and unborn cub. A deep, guttural growl leaves his throat as he narrows his eyes.

"Would you like another scar to match the last one I gave you?" growls out Fenrir, indicating the large scar already marring his brother's face.

As he speaks, Fenrir positions Harry behind him. The werewolf making sure that his pregnant mate is safely out of harm's way.

"I'd like to see you try, Fenrir!"

"Don't tempt me, Mason. I can't promise you that I'll remember to hold back if I fight you right now."

One moment the two werewolves are arguing, the next moment they are locked in a fight. Rolling about on the floor, the two grown men scratch, bite, and punch each other with animalistic ferocity. Harry stares on in complete shock at the sudden turn of events. However when the Greyback brothers knock over a lamp, the resulting crash snaps Harry back to his senses.

"Fenrir, stop!" shouts Harry, careful not to get too close to the brawling brothers. "Please stop it, both of you!"

His cries fall on deaf ears as Fenrir is too pre-occupied with throwing his brother to the ground to hear Harry. Annoyance now creeps onto the wizard's face as another lamp is lost to their battle. Whipping out his wand, the Head Auror sends out a spell that he barely has to focus his magic to cast.

"Stupefy!"

At the command, the two werewolves are frozen in their positions wrestling on the floor. The spell doesn't have the full effect on the lycanthropes, but it does stop the fighting. Sweat is pouring off both men as the wounds they've inflicted on each other bleed steadily. Shocked by the high-level magic fueling the basic spell, the two dominant wolves look up at Harry.

"Now that I have your attention," starts the wizard, taking a few steps towards the temporarily-paralyzed men. "Let me take this opportunity to explain some things to both of you."

Staring down at the two helpless werewolves, Harry adjusts his black-rimmed glasses before clearing his throat.

"Fenrir, while I normally find your implusive behavior rather endearing, tearing up the house while brawling with your brother isn't exactly a habit I'd like you to pass to our child. And Mason, you may not approve of me being a wizard, however I don't approve of you being a self-righteous git. Now in about five months, I'm going to make Fenrir a father and you, Mason are going to be an uncle. So, if you have any intention of being in our child's life, you're going to have to get over whatever issue you've got with Fenrir and me. Got it?"

The werewolves are released from their holds with a flourish of the auror's wand.

"Nod if you both understand."

Obediently, both men nod at Harry's question as they catch their breaths.

"Excellent. Now that everything is settled, the two of you can catch up with each other as you clean this room. I trust you two can do it without me babysitting the two of you. If you need me, I'll be in bed."

With that Harry turns to return to their bedroom. The two brothers stare after him before a grin appears on Mason's face.

"I'm starting to see how he was able to defeat Voldemort."

"Yeah, the pup's got a real feisty side to him."

"Still think you're daft for matin' a wizard though."

"If I cared about what you think Mason, that might've meant somethin'," grumbles out Fenrir as he stands up. "Now shut up and clean this mess up."

"Why do I have to clean it up?"

"Because, before we were interrupted, we both know that I was winnin'," tosses Fenrir over his shoulder as he heads after Harry. "And now, I'm gonna go finish what I was doin' before you showed up. If you know what's good for you, you won't interrupt us this time."

THE NEXT NIGHT

At the countryside home of Ronald and Hermione Weasley, Harry is sitting in the kitchen helping Hermione as she prepares dessert. The witch is slicing a treacle tart as Harry arranges them on a platter and tops each slice with fresh whipped cream. Ron is present as well, however he isn't exactly helping. The lanky red-head is refusing to leave the room to speak with their lycan guests.

As a gesture to clear the air, Hermione had invited Harry and Grayson(along with Derrick, Scarlett, and Mason) to their house for a quiet dinner party. So far, the dinner had been filled with tension and punctuated with awkward silences. Any worthwhile conversation had been between Harry, Hermione, and Scarlett while the others commented occasionally. Then again, it didn't help that Ron had spent the entire evening glaring at Fenrir, who in turn spent most of the night touching Harry underneath the table.

"I can't believe that you've brought not one, but four werewolves into my house, Harry."

"Our house, Ron," points out the witch as she fetches some forks from the drawer beside her. "And I invited them. So, if you want to blame someone then blame me."

"'Mione, I'm trying to make a point here."

"Then make it, Ron," Harry cuts in as he folds his arms across his chest. "All this sounds like to me is that you don't want to meet werewolves. Fenrir isn't the same man he was during the war and this is the first time you've even met Scarlett, Derrick, and Mason. You could actually try to get to know them instead of assuming that they are going to rip your throat out the fist chance that they get. Werewolves aren't any different than the rest of us—some are good and some are bad. Look at Remus, he was a perfect gentleman most of the time."

"Well said Harry," comments Hermione as she wipes off her hands. "And even if you don't agree, Ron, they are guests in our home and shall be treated as such. What would your mother say if she heard that you were being so impolite?"

Ron turns to his two best friends with a look of complete shock. Not knowing what else to do, he throws his hands up in defeat.

"You two are completely mad, that's what she'd say. Harry is mated and pregnant with the child of Fenrir Greyback, the most notorious werewolf in the world. The man that worked for Voldemort and turned children for Merlin's sake! He scarred Bill, my older brother! And this very same man is sitting in our living room with his brother and two underlings waiting for us to bring out dessert. And I'm the only one concerned with this situation?! Something is definitely wrong with this picture."

Taking a deep breath, Harry uses the opportunity to think. Ron has every reason to be distrustful of Fenrir, the wizard can't fault him for that. Up until about six months ago, Harry might have had the same reaction. The infamous werewolf had done quite a fantastic job making a name for himself as ruthless and terrifying. However, getting to know his mate and understand what drives him, Harry can't find it within himself to fault Fenrir either.

"Ron I understand what you are feeling, really I do. However, you can't judge someone based on the person they were during a war. I can't exactly say I did things that I'm particularly proud of back then," starts Harry, his gaze lowered as he finds the right words. "But Fenrir isn't some bloodthirsty, mindless creature or some convenient villain to blame. He is a man that had to make difficult decisions in order to survive as well as protect his pack. Fenrir has always been honest with me, so I know exactly what he's done. Now I'm not condoning the the crimes he's committed, however I'm not condemning him for his past either. All of us are trying to start our lives over after Voldemort, that includes the people that fought against us too."

For a moment, both Hermione and Ron simply stare at Harry. It isn't often that Harry brought Voldemort into conversation, so they are a bit taken aback. However, the thing that makes them think is the perspective that Harry is presenting them. One of the things that makes Harry such an excellent auror is that he doesn't simply perceive the world in black and white. Through his own experinces as well as those of the people that he's met in his life, Harry understands that even the best people can find themselves doing horrible things. It's the way of the world. However, he also believes that people deserve a chance to prove that they can change when given the opportunity. It is that deeply-rooted optimism he possesses, even after losing so many loved ones and facing the greatest dark wizard ever known, that makes Harry so amazing.

"Ron, if Harry says there's nothing to worry about, then I'm likely to believe him," begins Hermione with a smile on her face as she picks up the tray of dessert. " Besides, Fenrir does seem sincere in his feelings for Harry. After all, the two of them have been living together for the last few months now and Harry is perfectly fine."

Going over to his red-headed best friend, Harry places a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"All I'm asking is that you at least go out and get to know them, Ron."

At the looks from both his wife and best friend, a resigning sigh leaves Ron's mouth.

"I get what you're saying Harry. And it sounds all well and good and everything, but this is still quite a bit to get used too."

"Alright. If not for me, than do it for your future niece or nephew's sake. How are they going to play with their Uncle Ron if he can't get along with their father?"

As he asks, Harry looks at his friend expectantly while he rubs a hand over the growing bump of his baby. The underhanded tactic seems to do the job of clearing the tension in the room.

"Oh, come on Harry!" whines Ron, already caving in to Harry's request. "You can't use your unborn baby to get what you want. It's not fair!"

"Of course I can. I use it on Fenrir, and I can use it on you. Don't make me pull out the sonogram photograph. Now, let's go."

With a sigh and a mumble under his breath, Ron follows a laughing Harry and Hermione out of the kitchen. Once the trio enter the living room, the red-headed wizard straightens up as he sees the four werewolves on various pieces of his living room furniture. Scarlett and Derrick are sitting side by side on the love seat as Mason is leaning against a wall. Fenrir is sitting in a large chair, his posture suggesting his continuing annoyance at his brother's presence. Harry makes his way over to Fenrir and sits himself on the armrest. Instantaneously, he protectively wraps an arm around the wizard's waist.

"So, you have a lovely home, Hermione," observes Scarlett.

"Thank you. Ron and I built it a few years ago."

"With magic or with your hands?"

"Mason," warns Harry. His tone instantly shutting up the blonde werewolf as Fenrir grins beside him. "Be nice."

"Actually, yes we did use magic to build this house," states Ron, sitting beside Hermione on the larger couch in the room. "We are wizards. We use magic, big surprise."

"Ronald," begins Hermione with her own warning tone as she begins passing out plates. "Don't say anything you'll regret."

"I just think that we should get to the issue here. And honestly, I don't think Harry and Fenrir are fully prepared for all the problems they're going to face being married, or mated , or whatever."

Once the words leaves Ron's lips, the group tenses. The very subject had been carefully avoided all evening and now they are all forced to face it.

"Never thought I'd ever say this, but I agree with the wizard," begins Mason.

"Ron does have a point," chimes in Derrick. "You two haven't been together very long. Marriage and Mating are hard enough as it is without adding more complications to it."

"I don't think that there's anything wrong with Harry and Fenrir's relationship," starts in Scarlett. Her eyes stare at her mate pointedly as she continues. "Frankly, I don't recall you being this level-headed when we first met, Derrick. Our relationship isn't all that different from theirs. If you had thought things through, would you have still pursued me?"

Realizing the fight that this could potentially cause, the werewolf quickly answers the question.

"Of course, Scarlett. But you and I aren't Harry Potter, Head Auror and Savior of the Wizarding World, and Fenrir Greyback, Infamous Alpha Werewolf and Lord of the Lycans."

The room is silent for a second as that fact sinks in.

"Still, it does have a romantic quality to it when you think about it," comments Hermione after finishing off the sweet, buttery slice of pie on her plate.

"Hermione!"

"Well, this is Harry's life," continues the witch, ignoring her husband's outburst. "He's perfectly capable of deciding how to go about it. I'm not going to let everyone else's hard-headedness get in the way of seeing my friend's baby. I can't wait to be an aunt. That reminds me, Harry, I've collected some books that I think will be helpful with your unique pregnancy. It wasn't easy mind you, there aren't many thorough reference books on werewolf pregnancies and child-rearing. I'll have them sent to you in a couple days."

"Thanks, I really appreciate it, Hermione," Harry replies as he too finishes off the last of his treacle tart.

"Look Harry, you know that I always have your back. I'm just saying that this situation isn't exactly an easy one to deal with. I mean, forgetting the fact that you're with Fenrir, you're still pregnant. I mean, how do you plan to explain the baby to everybody?"

At Ron's question, Harry turns to share a look with Fenrir.

"It's alright, pup. Go ahead and tell them."

"Fenrir and I have decided that we will announce everything—me being pregnant and the two of us being mated—after the baby is born. We aren't going to hide the fact that we are both the parents and we don't want to hide our relationship any longer than we already have."

"Is that a good idea, Harry?" states Hermione, the practical witch concerned that they might not be thinking clearly. "I mean, this will be a huge shock to well, just about everyone."

"We know. But, it'll be better this way. It will be on our terms and we can take precautions to protect ourselves and our baby. Besides, it's not as if it's illegal for us to be together. The Ministry has recognised same-sex partnerships as well as relationships between magical creatures and wizards for ages. It's not as if they can take me and the baby away from Fenrir against our will."

Harry's comment makes Fenrir think back to the conversation he shared with Kingsley Shacklebolt. Unknown to his mate, the werewolf is well aware that the Ministry could very well separate them with a bogus charge of child endangerment or some other such nonsense. After all, there are still plenty of witches and wizards that hold prejudices against lycanthropes who are just chomping at the bit for any excuse to lock up the notorious Fenrir Greyback for good.

"So, Harry, Fenrir, how do you two plan to raise the baby?" asks Scarlett, changing the subject as well as bringing her alpha back into the conversation.

"We haven't really discussed it that much," begins Harry."We figured that we should actually have the baby before deciding how it will be raised."

"Well, obviously, the cub needs to be raised around werewolves."

"And what, the baby shouldn't be raised around wizards?" interjects Ron as he glares at Mason.

"Considering what they've done to us why should we trust them to raise one of ours? The Ministry will probably want to start pouring Wolfsbane down the kid's throat the second he's weaned. He'll be safer with Fenrir's pack."

"So what? You're just going to take Harry and the baby away to live in a wolf pack and we'll never see either of them again?! That's not fair!"

"Fair?!," exclaims Mason, with a scoff. "What would a wizard know about being fair? If you all had it your way, werewolves would all be extinct by now! The cub needs to know the pride of being a werewolf before you wizards make him ashamed of it!"

"Enough," interrupts Fenrir, his deep voice instantly cutting through Mason and Ron's arguement. "This is our cub. Harry and I will decide how we raise it. Your help will be solicited, if needed."

Keeping his arm around Harry, the large man gets up out of the chair. All eyes in the room are on Fenrir as he offers his hand to the pregnant wizard.

"C'mon pup, it's late. We should be goin'."

Taking a look at the clock on the wall, Harry is surprised to see that it is well past ten. So wrapped up in their conversation, the wizard had lost track of time. However, Harry is more interested in the odd mood that has settled over Fenrir, it's almost as if he's in a rush to leave.

"He's right, " agrees Harry. "I have a long day at the Ministry tomorrow and an appointment at Saint Mungo's. I'm going to need all the sleep I can get."

Harry walks over to exchange farewells with Ron and Hermione. Reading the mood emanating from the alpha wolf, the three werewolves quickly say their goodbyes before apparating to their own destinations. Once he is the only lycanthrope in the Weasley's home, Fenrir walks over to his mate.

"Are you ready to go, Harry?"

"Yes," replies the auror, surprised to already feel the man's arm wrapping around him.

"Alright, g'night Mr. and Mrs. Weasley."

And with that, Fenrir activates the familiar portkey and transports them back to their snow-covered cottage just outside Hogsmeade.

"I cannot believe things got so out of hand," replies Harry as he changes into his pajamas once they've returned home.

"Well, it's to be expected. Wizards and werewolves aren't exactly known for gettin' along. We should be glad that it didn't turn to blows."

"Still, I can't get over some of the things that Mason actually said," continues the wizard. Apparently in the time that has passed since returning from his friend's home, Harry has been replaying the conversation over continuously in his mind. "I mean, why on Earth would he say things like that?"

"Well, it's not like Mason said anything that didn't have a bit of truth behind it."

At the comment, Harry pauses, mid-buttoning the loose pajama top. Viridian eyes narrow as they stare up at Fenrir incredulously.

"Fenrir, you don't honestly agree with what he said, do you?"

Despite the fact that he knows that it is a bad idea to truthfully answer this question, the werewolf replies anyway.

"Not everythin'. But I've met all types of wizards and there are certain things that they all have in common."

"Like what exactly?"

"For one, you all think that magic is the best thing in the world," answers Fenrir, as he walks out into the livng room. "You all may not admit it, but you all practically worship it. Magic is supposed to be a tool, not a crutch."

Following the man, Harry has to almost jog to keep up with Fenrir's large strides. The two find themselves in the kitchen as Fenrir gets himself something to eat. The large man appears to have a bottomless pit of a stomach as Harry watches him pull out some pieces of dried meat.

"I'm a wizard, Fenrir. My parents were wizards, practically everyone I know is a wizard, it's a part of who I am. Magic, is a part of who I am. Just like being a werewolf is part of who you are. Why wouldn't I pass that gift onto my child? Magic has saved my life more times and in more ways than I can even begin to count. "

"Tch! Saved you, eh?", begins the werewolf. "Magic has saved you alright, from danger that you were only in because of your precious magic in the first damn place!"

"Fenrir, that isn't the point!"

"It's exactly the point! Magic brings trouble. Makes people that have no strength of their own think that they do. The only real power you have is the power in your own body and your own mind, not in some silly stick."

At that insult, Harry's eyes narrow dangerously. Without a word he turns on his heel and storms out of the room.

"Where are you goin'?" asks Fenrir, following after the wizard he just thoroughly pissed off.

"You aren't my favorite person right now. Goodnight, Greyback."

The door to their bedroom slams shut in Fenrir's face, leaving the werewolf to stare at its wooden surface. Harry's tone of voice clearly demands to be alone for the night.

The werewolf side of Fenrir Greyback can't help the twinge of sadness he feels from his mate's rejection. However, he decides to focus more on his own frustration as he goes to create a makeshift bed on the couch.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

Aww, Harry and Fenrir's first fight! (Don't worry, they don't stay mad at each other for too long). Also, you'll be getting the details about the logistics of Harry's pregnancy next chapter as well as the sex of the baby!

The next chapter will be posted one week from now, barring any unforeseen circumstances. As always, thanks for reading and I hope that you leave a comment(but it isn't a requirement)

Later days!

- RENKA