.: Chapter Twenty-One :.
Metamorphosis
The wolves locked together, rolling across the kitchen floor in a ball of fur, teeth, claws and snarls. Harry yelped, dragging himself toward them to try and stop it but impaired, frozen in his deformed semi transformation, crippled with pain and unable to go either way – neither human or wolf. He was stuck. And his cub was crying louder than ever.
He watched through agonised eyes as the brown wolf snapped, narrowly missing the silver wolf's neck. The alpha growled, enraged and threw the brown wolf off him, sending his smaller, less powerful frame into the wall. The slighter creature scrambled up instantly. He staggered but bolted forwards in misguided desperation to protect Harry. The two other pack-mates watched on, silent and respectful of the battle waging before them. A battle for dominance like they had seen many times before – but not with an outsider, not like this.
By challenging the alpha over his treatment of his mate, the outsider was unwittingly trying to stake a claim over the Alpha Numero himself – albeit a claim of father and cub rather than a mate bond. It was the greatest insult of a challenge, one they had not seen before except with the rogue wolves. All of whom were now dead. It would be a miracle if this one did not end up the same way.
The brown wolf collided with the silver, both hurtling backwards and crashing into the great oak table which splintered under their weight. Behind it, the two humans screamed and rushed out of the way. Just in time. The wolves crashed to the side, where they'd been standing a moment before. The silver wolf pinned the darker to the floor, fangs bared.
Then Harry saw them. He saw the two humans holding his son and pressed tight against the wall, trying to make a beeline for the door. The two wolves were skirmishing only feet away from his vulnerable cub.
Harry roared, body morphing in a handful of sections. His claws scraped on the stone as his arms stretched, snapping and crunching until they were two black-furred forelegs that heaved his weight forward, upright. His back legs were fully changed by the time he got them up under him. He pushed off from the ground, leaping into the fray and landing on the splintered remains of the table a black wolf.
Snarling, he threw himself into the silver wolf, the speed of his body rather than strength sending his alpha staggering back away from the brown wolf. The brown wolf that was too stunned to move up from the floor. Harry glared with gold-rimmed eyes at his mate, looking from their squalling cub to his mate again, making sure he understood. He would not tolerate a battle so close to his young. The alpha gave a deep, low yip of apology and with a slightly lowered head and tail, edged forward to glide his muzzle against Harry's.
Harry remained still, allowing the apology and contact but not leaning into it as he might if he weren't so angry with them endangering his cub. He huffed, watching his cub wriggle in the human girl's arms as his mate sniffed and licked him. His body was still tingling unpleasantly from the change but he no longer hurt. Now he'd passed into this form of his own volition, it was easy to hold.
The strength of his mate nuzzling his side made him stagger a little as he pulled away, padding toward the humans and his fretting young. The fiery-haired male tensed but otherwise did not move on his approach, reeking of uncertainty but mostly worry – for him, he realised. The female was gasping for breath, heart beating frantically. She smiled tightly as he approached and kept her head low, neck exposed as she bent down, laying his cub on the floor before him.
She'd watched him long enough to know what he needed from her.
Watching her step back to the wall beside her own mate, Harry then dipped his head, sniffing carefully at his cub to ensure he was unharmed. He nosed aside the blanket and nuzzled naked skin. Quickly, he lapped at the infant's face, neck, chest and tiny hands as they came up to tug at his muzzle. Harry huffed and licked him again, giving him a thorough tongue bath until the crying stopped.
Slowly, his human mind edged to the forefront and he realised how peculiar he must look, a bear-sized wolf crouched over a tiny baby. He lifted his head and saw Ron and Hermione watching him, felt the eyes of the others on his back. Kirian's panic and upset ebbed away now he could feel him near. His little bludger recognised him in any form, it seemed, which made Harry wag his tail happily before he even realised what he was doing.
As the tension dwindled and the atmosphere eased, however, he began to feel his grip on the wolf being tugged away. With a low, piteous whine he lowered himself down, crouching with his paws outstretched around his son. He clenched his eyes shut, grinding his teeth, ears slicked back and tail between his legs as he struggled to hold onto the wolf. His skin prickled, the fur standing on end as it tried to recede.
Suddenly, movement at his side made him crack his eyes open, eyes that flickered rapidly from gold to green, to gold to green again. Fenrir was kneeling beside him – a man again and naked as the day he was born. He reached forward, his still huge hand smoothing over silky black ears and resting on Harry's neck. The comforting weight there distracted Harry enough from the inferno burning in his shuddering, aching limbs as they fought the shift, that everything stilled.
"The hardest part is over," Fenrir grunted, gripping the scruff of his neck firmly when his limbs began to spasm again. "Grit your teeth and push out into all your limbs, force them to freeze in place – as they are. As the wolf. Harry whined through his teeth. Fenrir hauled him upwards, forcing his uncontrollably shaking legs to scramble on the stone floor for purchase.
"Find your feet," Fenrir insisted. "Push down into all of them, into your tail – make them still."
Harry's entire body tensed further as he straightened out, his paws pushing heavy and clumsy onto the floor but steady. His tail, he forced it outward, forced it to move from side to side instead of hang limply between his legs. He swayed but remained upright and only when he was perfectly still, did Fenrir remove his hand. Those strong, thick fingers brushed reassuringly against his chin.
"Head up," he barked. Forcing his eyes open, Harry complied. With a head held high, he stared into Fenrir's eyes. The man rose fully to his feet, scooping up their tiny son, who was quiet and content again now the atmosphere had calmed.
Beside them, Remus was human again, gratefully pulling on the robe Hermione found and offered him. She and Ron joined him, Hemming, Lupa and even Tonks (who had appeared in the doorway at the commotion), watching the exchange between the alpha pair.
Fenrir almost-smiled at Harry, pride evident in his expression. "Has it settled?" he asked.
Harry huffed softly in the affirmative, his human mind in full control now that the panic had subsided, his instincts quelled.
"Good," Fenrir said. "Now change back and we'll try it again." He glanced to Remus, who was still panting for breath, face and arms covered in scratches and scuffs. "You've never transformed outside the full moon," Fenrir noted – a statement, not a question.
Remus glared at him, surrendering to Tonks' fussing and insistence that Hermione cast a healing charm over the scratches.
Fenrir glanced back to Harry, who was licking at Kirian's toes affectionately, still a jet-black wolf with green eyes. "I would never have hurt him," Fenrir said solemnly to Remus, rubbing a black pointy ear tenderly. "I wasn't the one making him afraid. Your display of protection, while impressive for a wolf doped up on wolfsbane, wasn't necessary."
Remus winced as the deep scratches sealed shut under Hermione's wand. Tonks was smoothing his hair back from his sweaty face but he was staring at Fenrir and Harry. "What was I supposed to think when I sense such terror and desperation, follow it and find you snarling and snapping at him like a beast?" Remus demanded, irritated, uncomfortable, still shaky from his own transformation and no doubt all-too aware that he had not been able to hold it – whereas Harry had.
"I felt his fear too, you know. I just controlled my reaction to it. He needed me to push him, not mother over him," Fenrir said gruffly, turning his attention back to Harry, who had now stumbled back, his body twitching as if suffering a seizure. It was a long, slow process but black fur receded, long, thick legs, tail and muzzle shifting back. A low whine of pain pierced the air. After some time, Harry lay naked and shuddering on the ground, breath ragged as if he'd run a marathon.
"Harry!" Hermione cried, flying forwards and gripping a shoulder reassuringly. She directed cooling and calming charms simultaneously at him, smoothing her hand over his sweaty forehead.
Harry gasped for air, peering up from beneath her hand and his dark fringe to see Fenrir tensing slightly at Hermione's wand directed at Harry's vulnerable, weakened body. Harry smiled breathlessly, reassuringly. Instincts or no instincts, he trusted Hermione, trusted her magic. It was like a reassuring, soothing balm on his frayed nerves. Still panting, he set a hand on hers where it rested on his head, unable to thank her with words at that moment.
"Here, mate," Ron muttered softly, uncomfortably from his other side, dropping a crisp, plain white table cloth over Harry's body respectfully. Harry nodded, pulling the huge spread tightly around him, preserving what remained of his dignity. He took a few, deep, slow breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth. Slow and steady, until his lungs and heart stuttered back into a calm rhythm.
"Thanks," he managed out, his voice a little hoarse, sounding strange to his ears.
"If I want him to survive this, to come home, I have to be what he needs – not what he wants," Fenrir continued, talking to Remus but with his eyes staring straight into Harry's. Harry staggered to his feet, his expression and the emotions pulsing through their bond saying what his lips could not. How Fenrir was right. How he was exactly what he needed and wanted. To Harry they were one and the same.
"He's got enough mother hens flapping around him," Fenrir pressed on.
Remus glared; evidently realising he was being included in that insult.
Fenrir chuckled, shifting Kirian up in his arms, scooping up the dropped dummy and wiping it off before popping it back into the boy's mouth. The baby sucked happily and his eyes fluttered as he nuzzled into Fenrir's neck. "He needs me to be his partner," Fenrir said, "not his bloody den mother."
Remus and Ron looked so indignant at this that Harry had to laugh. He used the cover of the tablecloth to struggle back into his trousers, then shrugged it off when his lower half was dressed. All the while, he watched the exchange between Fenrir and Remus.
"You've never transformed outside the full moon," Fenrir noted once more.
Remus looked at the alpha reluctantly. "I've never become a full wolf before either," he said simply, tone guarded. A full wolf, not the sickly wolf hybrid Harry had seen before.
It was then that Harry's brain finally registered what exactly had happened. Similar to how he had first become the wolf out of the need to protect Kirian, Remus had turned to 'save him' when he had heard him unwittingly calling out in distress and pain. The notion, while staggering, made a soothing bubble of comfort grow in his stomach. It stunned him to silence. He listened.
"The change," Remus began in a slow, quiet voice, "it felt different to the one I suffer under the moon."
Fenrir snorted. "It was a full transformation untainted by wolfsbane. You only take it the days leading up to the full moon, I take it?" he didn't wait for Remus' answer. He didn't need a response, Harry knew that. He could smell that there was no trace of wolfsbane in Remus' body right now, so Fenrir must have been able to. Fenrir continued. "In that split second, with no wolfsbane and none of your loathing for what you are, the wolf took over on instinct to make you stronger, to let you help Harry. Cubs and subs who've recently whelped bring all wolves' instincts to the surface."
For some time, no one said a word. Awkwardly, Ron and Hermione righted the table complete with a pot of fresh tea. Harry sank into a chair beside them both while Tonks guided a still shaky Remus into another chair opposite them. He was still flushed and sweaty, but he looked healthier than he had in all the years Harry had ever seen him. It was as if the change had knocked years off his appearance. The complete polar opposite to how the full moon under wolfsbane affected him.
Cautiously, Harry looked to Fenrir. The brief flicker he saw in those eyes confirmed his suspicions.
"You feel stronger than ever, don't you?" Fenrir said at last. He had crossed the room and come to stand before Harry, holding his gaze with meaningful, unspoken expression that only Harry could see. He was speaking to Remus though and they all knew it.
Tonks was the one that answered, however. "He looks even younger than the day I met him," she whispered. "How can that be?"
Fenrir held Harry's eyes for a moment longer before looking between Tonks and Remus in clear awkward exasperation. He ran his large fingers through his hair in a mannerism that was distinctively Harry's. This did not go unnoticed by the others in the room. If he noticed the startled confusion, however, he said nothing, merely shifted Kirian into one arm as he spoke.
"The wolf extends our lives, heals the everyday wear and tear of life. It's what makes us able to suffer the change every month, protects us from things like the common cold. We'll live longer than even most wizards – Lupin will too, if he lets the wolf out, if he stops poisoning it with wolfsbane."
Tonks looked between him and Remus with wide eyes of royal purple. "If he stopped taking the wolfsbane, he would be healthy, strong again?" she asked, her voice hushed, as if she dared not hope. Everyone in the room knew where the tremor of fear stemmed from. As he was now, Remus would probably not live long enough to even see Teddy graduate from Hogwarts. Assuming there still was a Hogwarts once this was all over.
"If I stop taking the wolfsbane potion I will kill everyone in a frenzy so it is irrelevant!" Remus snapped. "I've felt the wolf as a human, uninhibited by wolfsbane. I'm a ravenous animal! I kill people!"
His uncle, Harry thought, imagining a horrified little Remus waking to find the carnage he had created. He winced, thinking of the cubs back at the den. They were a little out of control, but in the stable environment of the pack, they were kept under wraps. Adult wolves accustomed to the change weren't like that. At least they didn't have to be. He studied Fenrir's hard, unreadable expression. He had hurt him as the wolf, yes, but only when faced with a threat, only when that arsehole Weylyn purposefully put them in a situation where Fenrir's heightened instincts would react to the humans in Harry's presence.
The memory of that night still made a shiver prickle at every nodule of his spine. But it did not haunt him, not any longer. He saw it for what it was. It didn't make a difference to how he felt about the wolfsbane potion or werewolves. Whether that was good or bad, he wasn't sure. It just felt right. Instinctually right. Fenrir had seen him afraid since, had seen him desperate for space as the wolf and had relented. In a safe, controlled environment under the moon, the pack was the safest place for Remus - for any wolf.
"Malfoy is human and he's spent the full moon with the pack," Harry said. It was important for Remus to understand before he made any decision. The decision couldn't be based on years of bias and fear alone. "He's still human," he continued. "He wasn't hurt. In fact I've never seen the git happier."
Beside him, Ron snorted. "You're not really selling it mate."
Harry sighed. "What I mean is, he's sort of…erm…with one of the pack." That was as much as he would admit about that, he had no desire to out Malfoy to them all. "He learned how to behave with us beforehand, how to act, how to be one of the pack–"
"'Us"?" Hermione whispered.
Harry winced. "Yeah. Werewolves don't have to be mindless beasts – a lot of that is hype from the Ministry to justify their own crimes. The point is, the pack is probably the best place for you during the moon, Remus. And this is me telling you this – me. Trust me, alright? I've seen it. I've felt it." He looked between Remus and Tonks, his chest aching at the thought of Tonks being left to raise Teddy alone when they had only just found each other. "When this is all over. Whatever happens, you need to try, Remus. If you could see them there – the families, the children. It's like a paradise untouched by the rest of the world."
His cheeks blazed when he realised everyone was staring at him and pulled Fenrir's cloak a little tighter round him. "What you're doing is killing you slowly, you know it is," he said in a quiet, firm voice. "Please Remus. Just try it once. Teddy and Tonks can stay safely in the village nearby if you'd like the first time. But if Draco bloody Malfoy can survive a full moon with us then you can!"
Everything was silent for some time. Until Tonks lay a hand on her husband's arm and the man sighed, weary and afraid. "You and Teddy will be nowhere near there if I do this," he said, voice low and firm, as it had been that night Remus had taken the map from Harry years ago, the time when Harry had first mentioned Pettigrew's name in front of him. He focused on Harry then. "But only when He is gone. Only when there are no bigger things to worry about. I will not risk my life when you still have need of me."
Tonks made a choking sound. "I'll always need you!" she insisted. "Teddy will always need you. That's why I think you should try this – at least try. It's a hope at least, hope for a life without pain. Isn't that what you want?" Her voice had never sounded so frantic. "To watch Teddy grow up? To grow old with me?"
Remus stared at her, struggling for words, his lips moving soundlessly.
"You won't die," Harry said, simple and insistent. "You won't be hurt, Remus, I promise you. I wouldn't ask you to try if I wasn't completely sure it would work." When those tired, murky green eyes fixed on Harry again, they were pensive, daring to hope. Trust. Harry felt his mouth go dry at the sight of such belief. He did not let his conviction falter.
Remus reached up, still watching Harry and set his hand over Tonks'. "I trust you, Harry."
Harry swallowed thickly. This man looking at him with such platonic affection, such trust was the last connection to his parents. He was the last mentor or parental figure beyond the Weasleys. Harry could not fail him. "I trust Fenrir," Harry said. "I trust the pack. You'll be alright, Remus. I swear it."
Slowly, Remus shook his head. "You take so much on yourself, Harry," he sighed gently. "Just like your father. He had to make everything right. He had to save everyone, even a reclusive, scrawny little werewolf with no hope." He smiled softly, the expression slightly less lined than usual. It was a mere hint of how the transformation could help him heal. "Alright," Remus murmured. "Alright, Harry."
Tonks looked torn between relief and fear, her fingers tightening further on Remus' shoulder. When she looked on Harry, Fenrir and Kirian again, however, her expression seemed to clear. She didn't say anything, though Harry was forced to remember the countless insinuations he'd heard regarding Fenrir's feelings for him, that idea that he, Harry, though the submissive by nature was not submissive in their relationship. Even after all this time. Despite everything, Fenrir was the one who bent to ensure Harry's happiness. For some reason, the way Tonks looked at them both just then finally made him realise that.
Maybe because she is so relieved, Harry thought absently, that Fenrir really isn't what everyone thought he was. That he'll do everything in his power for me, even if he doesn't always agree with it. He smiled slightly before being tugged from his thoughts by Hermione's hasty offer of food. It was meant to diffuse the tension, he thought, as he'd had experience with her cooking and knew it was...dangerous at best. Ron quickly stepped up to the mark though, saving all their health, Harry thought.
It was the oddest thing Harry had ever experienced, their entire unlikely group gathered around the table. Yet things were not strained. Fenrir, Lupa and Hemming mostly kept quiet, but it was an easy silence Harry had frequently experienced in the pack. Ron and Hermione bickered, Teddy delighted everyone by throwing most of his food all over himself and babbling nonsensically. It all felt very domestic, nice, like the calm before the storm.
Kirian was alert and mumbling quietly, watching Tonks change her face with awe, resting with his belly against Harry's. Every now and again, Fenrir would glance over with a soft look in his eyes, one that made Harry feel oddly shy and…warm. Kreacher appeared conveniently after to clear the plates and eyed Kirian eagerly. Harry let him watch and talk to him, but did not relinquish him. He couldn't. Not yet. He didn't think that was entirely because of his wolf instincts either.
Those at the table dispersed after a while, until only Harry, Fenrir, Kirian, Lupa and Hemming remained. By unspoken agreement, they walked outside, sprawling on the patio and staring up at the now dark sky. Harry pulled the familiar fur cloak round him and Kirian, enjoying the breeze on his face. He closed his eyes, tired. It felt a little suffocating with the London smog covering the stars. He'd never really paid much attention to it before but since being turned – no, awakened, he supposed, he could see the sky with such precision that he felt bereft at the loss of the clear, stunning sky he used to see at the valley. He felt a chill ripple through his stomach.
"You miss it," Hemming said from where he lay on his elbows nearby, propped up as if sunbathing. "You miss the pack, the valley."
Harry stared. He didn't know why but he felt slightly embarrassed that he was so easy to read. Then he remembered that they were all finely attuned to his mood right now, with his…giving birth, Fenrir especially so. Fenrir, who was lying next to him with an arm stretched out behind Harry, encircling him without touching. He was unusually pensive tonight.
"Does that mean you're heading back once all this is over?" Lupa asked tentatively, "When you're…free? Of Targarletum, that is."
Fenrir growled at the insinuation Harry would need to be free of him, but said nothing.
"I don't know," Harry said quietly. He couldn't see beyond Voldemort, his head swimming with possibilities and what he should do, for himself, for Kirian, what he wanted to do. What did he want, even? He'd never felt so torn or lost. You've never considered having a future or a family, but now you have both. You do not know what to do with either, his thoughts whispered in a voice that sounded uncannily like Dumbledore's. Dumbledore, who always knew what to do for the greater good.
"Others will be arriving tomorrow," Fenrir said gruffly, sitting up straight and resting his arms on his knees. He stared out across the dark garden, clearly annoyed.
Harry frowned. "Others?"
"Earlier, we spoke with Echo," Fenrir retorted sharply. "He, Marrok and a few others are heading out to us, to help."
"Who'll protect the pack?" Harry asked, panicked, even though he knew that what Hermione and Remus had done to get in could never be repeated.
"Even if one of the pack offered up a handful of hair and blood for the same ritual your interfering humans use, we've strengthened the defences. Targarletum himself couldn't get in there now," Fenrir grumbled, still not looking at him.
Harry winced, stung by the recollection that, one way or another, the fact that the valley had been infiltrated was his fault. He set his teeth in frustration, annoyed at the pang of hurt. "If you're going to be a prick just because I'm bloody confused, I'll go inside and you can sleep out here alone," he snapped.
Fenrir's head snapped round to look at him so fast Harry swore he heard his neck crack. The alpha glowered. "You really think I'd leave the pack in danger? No one can get through now. Lupin and the witch exploited a loophole that is now gone. There is no way in. They are safe and Echo, Marrok and the others are coming here to help us so we can get this over with and I can take you home – where you belong,"Fenrir growled, rising to his feet. "I've been the alpha since before you were born. Whatever mistakes I've made, I've kept them safe. I know what I'm doing."
"Don't lord over me, Fenrir Greyback," Harry growled back warningly. "I'm not a silly bitch who doesn't know what he's talking about. Don't talk down to me like I'm a child just because you're pissed off." It didn't go unnoticed that Hemming and Lupa had retreated back inside out of the way.
"They're safe now, the pack, that's all you need to worry about," Fenrir grumbled, still glaring at him as if he really wanted to say something much more colourful.
Harry rolled his eyes. "That's all you had to say. You didn't have to flip like a stroppy teenager. You've got a worse temper than me," he said, shifting a sleepy Kirian into the crook of his arm under the cloak. The boy started to suck at his chest half-heartedly, already halfway into slumber. Harry looked down through the small gap in the cloak to see that sleepy little face stretch in a yawn and smiled, anger dissipating from his veins like snowflakes on the ocean.
When Harry looked up again, he nearly jumped when he found Fenrir crouched directly in front of him, leaning slightly forward on all fours to stare down at Kirian as well. Their faces were only a few centimetres apart. Harry inhaled sharply, just managing to refrain from physically starting. Their eyes met. Those ice-blue eyes were dark, glistening with the few twinkling stars that managed to shine through from above. Harry sighed and leant forwards, butting their foreheads together lightly.
"I just wanted to know everyone was safe," he said quietly.
Fenrir grumbled, not out of anger but the soft, reassuring rumble he'd used so many times before. He nudged Harry's head back, raising a hand to cup the back of his neck. "They're safe," he repeated gruffly. "But even if they weren't, Echo and the others have to come. Targarletum needs to be dealt with or no one will be safe for long."
Harry nodded slowly, leaning his head back and allowing Fenrir's large hand to support his neck entirely, exposing his throat. But when Fenrir shifted, his lips didn't find his neck. His hand on that neck urged Harry's face back to him and he sought Harry's lips, smoothing their mouths together. They melted together in a slow, lazy pass of tongues and sighs. Harry kept one arm round Kirian, the other lifted up to loop around Fenrir's neck, holding him in their kiss longer, deeper.
He felt Fenrir's fear, his apprehension bubbling at the edges of his mind, twisting in his own chest and kissed him all the more because of it. This strong, stupid man, incapable of voicing his emotions, he wasn't so different to Harry at all. Every time Harry felt him like this, being with him made just a little bit more sense. The fact that his wolf chose Fenrir made a little bit more sense. We are one in the same, he thought, the wolf and him. He'd told Remus that himself after all.
When they broke apart, they were both breathing heavier. Harry felt heat in the way he hadn't for a while swell within him. He was flushed and Fenrir's desire rippled between them in thick, heady waves.
"Not now," Fenrir growled, half-heartedly, his fingers caressing Harry's neck where they still held on.
Harry growled back softly, reproachfully and glanced around. Kirian was snoozing softly and continued to do so, even as Harry rose to his feet. He could feel Fenrir's eyes on him as he moved slowly to the large overgrown area just off the side of the patio, still within the protective wards but out of sight. It was a combination of wild bush and tree. Without even really contemplating what he was doing, Harry pushed in towards it and the leaves and branches receded, morphing and flowing until there was a generous sized hollow within, a protective den among the greenery.
Sliding in, he twisted his free hand, magic urging one of the inner branches to coil up in a sturdy nest. He snuggled Kirian inside it, cloak and all and stared at him for a moment. His dark mop of hair was dishevelled, his chubby face calm and softly pink. Harry inhaled his calming, sweet baby scent and then glanced up to the entrance to the hollow, where Fenrir now crouched.
"We can't, Harry," Fenrir rumbled softly.
Harry's eyes were dark and shining in the diminutive light. "Yes," he growled, crawling forward so that he was kneeling over Fenrir's lap when the man had edged inside. Fenrir's hand cupped the back of his neck again as Harry inclined his head, moving his head this way and that, so that his lips just hovered over Fenrir's skin, his nose, his lips and chin. Harry's own hands slid down Fenrir's chest, nails grazing the flesh there.
Fenrir tightened his grip on Harry's neck, not enough to hurt but enough to still him.
Harry groaned, eyes fluttering.
"Hmmm," Fenrir mumbled appreciatively. Harry had never been quite so open, so sure of what he wanted before. Though his eyes were dark with arousal they were most definitely green. There were no forces at work here except acceptance and desire.
"You were amazing today," Fenrir confided huskily, nudging his chin up so he could inhale at his neck, ghost his lips over Harry's the way Harry was doing to him. "I…" Their eyes were closed and their lips almost touching. "I'm proud of you." The undertones and the feelings rippling through their bond let Harry know exactly what he meant by that. Words he couldn't say.
"Too long," Harry gasped.
Fenrir gave a guttural groan, gripping Harry's hips, strong fingers digging into Harry's buttocks through his trousers, claws piercing the fabric. Harry grunted against his stubbly chin, grating his teeth over it, enjoying the rasp, biting gently. "Do it," he muttered thickly, dragging his lips up along Fenrir's jaw with wet, messy nips.
Obeying hungrily, Fenrir sank his claws in and tore the fabric away like paper, dragging it to pieces with one slow tug of his claws down Harry's hips and thighs – just grazing the flesh underneath. The tattered fabric fell away as Harry shifted forward, smashing their lips back together, rising up as he did so, so that he was higher than Fenrir, pushing down to dominate their kiss, completely in control.
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"Nice," Harry mumbled dazedly.
Fenrir huffed in satisfaction against his skin and rolled onto his side, dragging Harry with him, maintaining the contact between their bodies.
Harry glanced up at the little nest he'd made and saw his little bludger sleeping soundly, before relaxing back into the body spooning against him. He smiled dazedly. "Who knew Fenrir Greyback liked post-sex cuddling," he teased.
Fenrir snorted, pressing his nose into the nape of Harry's neck and the hair just above. "I do like it when you're cocky," he grumbled back serenely, sticky hand sliding up Harry's torso. Harry wrinkled his nose in distaste and flicked his fingers towards the sticky mess on his skin and Fenrir's fingers. It vanished. His skin tingled slightly, as if licked by cool air.
"Your powers come so easily to you now," Fenrir noted, tensing. Harry felt his mate's unease stabbing at the fleshy place behind his own ribs. He slid his hand up to cover Fenrir's where it rested against his flat belly.
"You don't want me to be able to take care of myself?" he asked, voice slightly ragged from sex.
Fenrir sighed. "I don't want you to think you're invincible or that you don't need help or…" Or you don't need me, Harry finished for him, startled at how easily he could read the insecurities that Fenrir tried to disguise with anger or grumpiness.
I still need you, Harry thought. And, I still want you. Sex always brought emotions so close to the surface, especially when they could feel each other's so clearly the closer they got. It just went to show that just because they had a direct connection to each other's feelings, it didn't mean that helped them understand each other any better –they'd had to work that out on their own. The hard way.
Not knowing how to put his feelings into words as always, Harry turned his head, straining his neck a little to bring his nose along the bridge of Fenrir's He inhaled slowly. "I'm not any different just because I have my magic back," he said quietly. "Just because I'm more…confident. I was still Harry when it looked like I'd swallowed a bludger and I'm still Harry now."
Fenrir growled softly, pushing his nose back into Harry's gently. "My Harry," he murmured, with such rough, sincere affection that Harry shuddered with the intensity. "You're cold," Fenrir said, "let's get you and Kirian back inside." He didn't move however and Harry didn't want to.
"Just a few more minutes," he murmured, wanting to stay in their private world for just a little longer, before they had to let everything else back in.
Harry must have dozed because the next time he opened his eyes, he was wrapped back up in Fenrir's cloak with Fenrir sitting up next to him, Kirian babbling nonsensically in his arms. Harry blinked as he rolled over to watch the sight thoughtfully, light warmth filling his insides that were still fuzzy around the edges from orgasm and sleep.
"Fenrir?" he began. Those eyes flicked up to him, unguarded and soft in a way only Harry got to see them. He moistened his dry lips. "Fenrir, I think I–"
"Harry?" The soft call of Hermione's voice called from outside the bushes. Harry stared at Fenrir for a moment, his train of thought and the moment lost. He gave a small, apologetic grimace and scrambled into his trousers and shirt as he edged toward the gap in the protective wall of branches and leaves.
"Hermione?" he called, sticking his head out into the early morning light. His hair, flushed face, the soreness to his mouth and the marks on his neck must've given away what they'd been doing because Hermione's face flamed at the sight of him. She glanced at his stubble-scraped and kiss-bruised mouth briefly before remembering herself, meeting his eyes again.
"Harry, I…I'm sorry. I know it's early but…well… The Weasleys are here. Molly, Arthur and…and Ginny. They're asking for you."
Harry froze. It felt like the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. Shit. He glanced back inside the hollow but could not make out Fenrir's expression from this angle. He sighed and met Hermione's gaze again. "Right," he murmured. "I'll…I'll be in in a second."
Hermione nodded, starting to turn away. She paused, glancing back at him uncertainly. "Harry you might...you might want to do something about your neck." She winced. Harry flushed darkly.
"Yeah, thanks." He tucked his head back inside and sat back on his heels, staring at the gap in the hedge, wondering what the hell he was going to do. He wasn't ashamed of Fenrir or Kirian but the Weasleys… He hadn't been prepared to face them, not yet, even if logically he should've guessed they'd be arriving with The Order planning on turning up soon. Pulling his knees up to his chest he sighed and rested his forehead on them, longing for the simplicity of a few hours ago.
"You're worried about what they'll think of you," Fenrir grumbled, drawing Harry's head up and in his direction. Fenrir's face was unreadable, even as Kirian wriggled in his arms.
"No. Yes. Not really it's just I…" he sighed, flopping onto his back and staring up at the canopy of leaves. "We're about to go into battle, I don't want the last thing I share with them to be a row."
Fenrir shifted beside him, laying a wriggly Kirian face-down on Harry's chest. Harry felt comforted by the warmth and wondered if that was why Fenrir had set him down there, as his hand came up to rest on Kirian's back. Fenrir sat back slightly, watching them both with an uncharacteristically pensive expression. The look quickly turned to one of irritation.
"I can't fix this for you," he griped, staring in the direction of the entrance. "I don't like it."
Harry couldn't help it, the sheer bluntness of that statement made him smile. Supporting Kirian on his chest with one hand he reached out across the dirt and flicked Fenrir's nearby knee. A scowl of annoyance was turned his way, so Fenrir that it only intensified his grin.
"What are you giving me such a shit-eating grin for?" Fenrir grumbled.
"Nothing," Harry said, brightened, sitting up slowly and running a hand through his dishevelled hair in an attempt to calm it. "I'm going in, then," he said, edging toward the entrance when Fenrir didn't look as if he was moving.
"C'mere," the alpha said gruffly, moving forward on his knees to grip Harry's chin, pulling him so their lips were only a hairsbreadth apart. Instead of the expected kiss, however, Fenrir's tongue darted out, shocking a surprised gasp from him as Fenrir lapped at his swollen lips. Harry's eyes fluttered shut, breath dancing out into Fenrir's mouth as he licked his sensitive skin, until all the redness was gone.
When Fenrir drew back enough that Harry could breathe again, Harry's eyes opened and he stared into pools of brightest blue. Without thinking, he flicked his own tongue out to lick quickly at Fenrir's own mouth and saw the intensity in his mate's face ebb away.
Harry carried the warmth from that moment all the way into Grimmauld Place's kitchen, where Mr and Mrs Weasley, Ginny, Ron Hermione and Remus were all gathered around the table. Hemming and Lupa stepped out just as he stepped in and Harry gave them an appreciative smile, grateful that they seemed to know Fenrir needed them as a distraction for the moment.
As the door closed behind him, he hefted Kirian up in one arm and approached the table, watching, feeling all of their gazes fix on him, like little electric sparks. Remus, Ron and Hermione looked apprehensive, Mr and Mrs Weasley simply shocked and Ginny, her face was fixed, hard, as if she dared not even blink.
"It's nice to see you all," he said weakly, taking a seat at the end of the table, Ron and Hermione on one side of him and Remus on the other. He was glad to see them alive and well after months of not knowing. Glad yet uneasy all the same.
"Hermione and me sort of gave them the run down, mate," Ron said, his voice breaking the awkward silence that had fallen.
Harry nodded appreciatively, taking a small breath. "So you know then – about Fenrir, about–"
"Fenrir?" Mr Weasley repeated slowly in horrified awe. "I… Harry, that is Fenrir Greyback's child, isn't it? Your child? Ron, Hermione and Remus have tried to explain everything of course but…" He stared at the baby in Harry's arms for a moment, gobsmacked, then he leant forwards on his elbows. "So it's really true then? That Fenrir Greyback is completely different to what we all knew? Just like Severus?"
Harry swallowed. He'd never thought about it like that but he supposed that was right. Just like Snape, Fenrir had been stuck with an image of him painted by rumour, circumstance, enemies and at times enforced by his own hand out of necessity. But they were both good. They were not what they seemed. Perhaps that was why Snape had seemed to so readily accept what had happened between them? That Fenrir wasn't a child-eating monster…
"He's a good man, Mr Weasley," he said in the end, smiling slightly, dragging his bottom lip under his teeth inside his mouth in apprehension and tasting Fenrir's tongue. "I know what the world thinks about him but they're wrong."
Mr Weasley sat back, evidently winded from shock but still watching him with awe rather than anger or concern. He glanced to Remus. "Yes, Remus said as much. Honestly, if Greyback has convinced him of all people then it must be true but…" He swept his hand up over his forehead, lifting his hat and scratching at his balding head. "Harry so much has happened since we last saw you – we were so worried! It's a lot to take in."
Harry winced. "I know, I'm sorry. I should've let you know what was happening somehow – I should've found a way but owls weren't safe and I didn't have a wand and… Like you say, a lot has been happening. I'm sorry I worried you, but I'm safe, I'm fine, I…" He glanced to Ginny and Mrs Weasley, who were uncharacteristically silent. "Fenrir protected me, he got me away from Vol – Him."
"In exchange for bearing his offspring?" Ginny asked, her voice quiet and hoarse, so unlike her.
"No that was…" He glanced down at Kirian, who was sucking on his dummy and staring at a part of Harry's fur cloak he could see, knotting his tiny fingers in it. It seemed wrong to call him an 'accident'. "That was unexpected by both of us," Harry said, "He was only born a few days ago."
Ginny said nothing but Mrs Weasley was beside herself, her eyes sparkling with tears. She clutched at a handkerchief on the tabletop and stared meaningfully at him. "Oh, Harry, but you're so young. You're a father now and a werewolf and there's a war resting on your shoulders and…" Her tears did escape then, trailing down her cheeks in thick, heavy rivulets. She dabbed at them quickly, ineffectively, because more followed.
"Oh, Harry – it isn't fair. You're only eighteen – you've had no chance to live for yourself and now all these things are being put on you and after that awful life you had with those muggles…" She drew in a sharp breath, her words all rambling together. "You're so used to just making the best of a bad situation but you deserve better than that. You deserve to be happy with someone who loves you and not someone forced on you by circumstance!"
Kirian mewled unhappily at her hysterical tone and she blinked, seemingly just remembering the baby in the room. Harry gave her a tiny, uncertain smile and looked down to his little bludger, turning him slightly in his arm so that he was resting against his knee, facing them all a bit more.
"I think that Mr Greyback does love Harry, Mrs Weasley," Hermione said after a moment, staring meaningfully at Kirian. "If you see them together, when they think no one else notices – it's just…obvious."
Harry flushed, wondering exactly what she was talking about but not willing to argue, not able to. Not wanting to. Everyone kept saying that Fenrir was infatuated with him and the thought that that might be true made him feel a little…
"…I don't think age matters," Mrs Weasley was saying, effectively bringing Harry back into the conversation that apparently had continued even while his brain was absent. "Not when you're older, but when one if you is only just a man and the other is–"
"I know that you are worried, Molly," Remus said, surprising everyone at the table with his interjection. "But Harry is not a boy. I don't think he has been one for a very long time." His eyes were sad but his face looked proud. The sight of it rendered Harry speechless. Remus looked on him and Kirian thoughtfully before focussing on the Weasleys. "We have to trust him to know what's best for himself. If he is wrong then, well, we will be here to help him."
Harry didn't consider himself a particularly emotional person; he'd purposefully grown up steeling himself against the softer emotions as a rule of survival. But right now, hearing Remus' belief in him, hearing his words, knowing what a difference his support made to the Weasleys' opinion of him and Fenrir, it made a rush of feeling clog in his throat.
His own breathing felt heavy and he cleared his throat roughly, dropping his eyes to Kirian in an attempt to hide the emotion touching his face. Not only because Ron, Hermione and Remus were supporting him and Fenrir, but because they were standing by him, doing so in spite of any reservations – because they believed in him.
It felt good and hurt all at once.
Kirian cooed quietly, staring up at Harry with big green eyes. It's your fault I'm soft, he thought without malice. I swear I wasn't such a wuss before I had you. That wasn't strictly true but since Kirian, he'd certainly felt more able to understand the raging tide of feelings that plagued him every day. Everything except what he felt for Fenrir. He frowned, wondering if he'd ever have an answer to that as he slid his thumb into one of Kirian's tiny fists.
"So that's it?" Ginny whispered, her voice cutting through the soft talk that had continued while Harry had been lost in thought. Everyone looked at her now. She looked wounded but also concerned and Harry ached.
"Gin," he began, but Ginny was already on her feet.
"That's just it? You're all just going to accept this? Let Harry ruin his life for some…relationship that happened just because they were stuck together for a few months? Harry," she said, distressed and earnest as she stared at him. "What you have with Greyback, it can't be healthy. It can't be right."
"Gin," Ron said, "you're not the one to decide what's right for him. None of us are." Everyone stared at Ron, apparently startled by the most mature words he'd ever uttered. He looked sheepish, ears turning slightly red and Harry smiled at him, appreciating his support. The last year had changed Ron – he'd abandoned him and Hermione once before when they'd needed him most and he wasn't going to do it again, Harry could see that determination on his face.
I've got your back, mate, he imagined Ron saying as his best friend stared right back at him. Even if I don't understand. It was his understanding, him, Remus and Hermione that was making this so much easier for everyone else to accept. It made Harry feel like he wasn't alone in facing the world, just for finding someone who… He paused. Someone who…
"But you never even liked boys before," Ginny said, almost pleadingly.
Fenrir isn't a boy, Harry almost said, but he didn't think that'd help the situation. He sighed. "Ginny," he tried, "We should talk somewhere more private." If things were going to get personal, he thought she'd appreciate some privacy – he certainly would. But she had that look on her face, the one of flushed indignation and worried stubbornness and he knew that wouldn't happen. He sighed. "I liked girls well enough but it was never…never like it is with him. It fits. It feels right."
She winced as if slapped. She'd heard it was never like this with you, Harry knew she had but he couldn't put it any less plainly if he hoped for her to understand. For all of them to understand. "Because of these werewolf genes he's awoken in you – not because that's what you chose for yourself."
"The werewolf and me are the same," Harry said tiredly. "It is me. When the instincts take over, it's my emotions and my desires that come to the front. You don't think I had all these doubts myself? That I didn't fight it every step of the way? I know it's a shock, I know it's hard but I've realised now this is who I am. I've never felt more…" His face twisted thoughtfully as he tried to think of a word. "I never knew myself before. Now I do. I don't expect you to get that right away but I expect you to believe me when I say that I know who I am now."
Ginny stared at him, eyes far too bright and shiny in the lights of the kitchen. Kirian grizzled sleepily, pawing at his chest. Harry captured his hand and held it tight. He knew somehow, instinctively knew Kirian wasn't hungry, that is just comfort he wanted feeding for. That fact, the realisation that for once he just knew what Kirian wanted made him feel more confident, able to face Ginny with unwavering patience.
He knew it must be hard for her to see him like this, with another man, with a child when she'd probably been waiting for him all this time – despite their break up. His chest ached at her palpable misery and he felt sick at the thought that he was the cause of it. Part of him had once even thought they would get back together, if they ever survived this, back during all those nights in the tent with Hermione and Ron, before he'd met Fenrir.
"Things should've been different," she whispered, voice hoarse with emotion, quavering on the last word.
He thought of the longing he'd felt staring at her tiny dot on the Marauder's Map, the feeling that was like homesickness. Perhaps things could've been different between them. Perhaps in other circumstances he would've been sat in this chair a few years later with her child in his arms. That was what was hurting her most, he supposed. But as Harry felt a prickle of awareness creep up the back of his neck, felt Fenrir approaching the door even before he opened it and stepped inside slowly, Harry felt something that he had never felt with Ginny.
"They might've been," he admitted, not turning to face Fenrir, though everyone else at the table had, staring over Harry at the man looming in the doorway. "But they're not. I'm sorry, Gin." Not for himself, but for her.
A long, silent moment hung in the air, heavy with emotion and pain. Harry felt Fenrir's uncharacteristic uncertainty pulse through his own stomach and after a moment, Kirian grizzled again. Harry thought he saw him trying to look over his shoulder toward where he could smell Fenrir. Either way, the sound made Fenrir step closer. Harry tensed, wondering how everyone gathered around would react to seeing Fenrir with him in the flesh. When he felt his mate at his back however, he saw only curiosity and apprehension in the eyes of his friends – his family. Except Ginny, who stared at them both, hurt. She turned, fleeing up the stairs and out of sight. Harry felt pain lance his chest and ached to call after her, but knew he couldn't say or do anything to make it better. Not when he was the cause.
Fenrir's hand came to rest on the back of his chair, knuckles discreetly caressing his back through his clothes. Harry relaxed back into it, looking at Mr and Mrs Weasley, waiting for some sort of reaction. Mr Weasley just looked uncomfortable, not knowing what to say, whereas Mrs Weasley seemed to be assessing him carefully. After a long time she brought the teacup in front of her to her lips. "You have a lot more colour to your cheeks than I've ever seen you," she said. The lightness to her tone was slightly forced but Harry smiled nonetheless. He knew this was her way of trying. "And you have a lot more weight on you. Mr Greyback is obviously feeding you up."
Behind him, Fenrir gave a short bark of a laugh under his breath. Harry flushed. Hearing Molly Weasley talk about his health and how Fenrir Greyback was looking after him was probably the most surreal thing he would ever hear. He had to blink a few times to make sure he was definitely still in the conscious world. He swallowed. This felt very odd.
"I must say you look very well for someone who's just given birth too. Even if he is tiny, it's still a harrowing experience," she continued, her words making Harry's face twitch with discomfiture, but he forced a smile through it, not wanting her to see his displeasure at the use of the word. It wouldn't help, not when she was honestly trying. "Fleur took a long time to recover from Victoire's birth," she said wistfully, reminding Harry that of course there had been three wartime babies in their peculiar extended family.
"Werewolf healing abilities make things easier," Harry said, "Are Fleur and the baby alright?" He listened to Mrs Weasley's animated reply on the health of all her children and grandchild, hearing her voice become easier, less strained as she spoke. Mr Weasley offered up a few agreeable statements, his eyes on Fenrir the whole time, seeming thoughtful.
As the conversation continued, Harry felt Fenrir's knuckles stroke him reassuringly and he pushed back, grateful for his presence, aware of how hard it must be to stand there under scrutiny and judgement of wizards. Beside him, Remus was watching him with a far-off look in his eyes, as if he was just realising something. Harry wondered what it was, especially if Remus had stood up for him and Fenrir.
"Harry," Fenrir said then, startling him from his thoughts and also the light conversation at the table into silence. His name sounded odd on Fenrir's tongue at that moment and Harry twisted in his seat to look up at him, confused. Those two syllables sounded so tentative, with Fenrir's gravel-rough voice reaching deep into his chest, filling it with warmth that only bloomed further at the determined look in his eyes.
He's doing this for me, even though he's uncomfortable, Harry thought, even though it goes against everything he stands for. Everything he experienced with his family and pack dying and…
"Why don't you let them hold Kirian?" Fenrir continued. Mr Weasley let out a little startled, hysteric laugh which he quickly hid in his tea. Harry blinked. His own instincts growled in negation but he could feel Fenrir's roaring unwillingly in his chest as well. Harry knew why he wanted to stamp down his own wolf to let his family, the closest two people he had to parents bond with his son, but for Fenrir to do so…
Harry licked his suddenly dry lips, looking down at Kirian, who was content now with them both near, blinking up at him with a stern little expression. The thought of handing his baby over into someone else's arms made him feel nauseous. He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat though, looking up to Fenrir again. A saying about not being able to build bridges without getting a bit wet bubbled brokenly at the back of his mind. It was just out of his reach, though he knew he couldn't expect everyone to step into the river and get their feet wet without him at least meeting them half way.
Steeling himself against the grumbling beast that wanted to sink its claws into his little bludger and not let him go, Harry offered Kirian up into Fenrir's arms. Probably the most precious olive branch they could offer. He watched with unease as his cub was carried away from him, sickening nausea rippling through his belly. He knew that Ron, Hermione and Remus, who understood the significance of what he had done, were watching him closely but he couldn't take his eyes off Kirian.
Fenrir came to a halt next to Mr and Mrs Weasley, who like everyone seemed dwarfed by Fenrir's immense stature. It was quite a sight, him standing next to the people from his past, trying, acting against everything he'd ever known – all for him. Fenrir glanced briefly to Mrs Weasley a final time, as if assessing her trustworthiness before passing Kirian into her capable arms.
Kirian wriggled, blinking up at her, sniffing deeply, as if trying to assess if she was pack. He didn't cry but he did stare up at her in consideration.
"If he isn't the spit of you, Harry," Mr Weasley said, leaning over Mrs Weasley to look into Kirian's curious expression.
Harry looked to Fenrir and saw that he was more than happy with that assessment. He wasn't smiling or even particularly soft in his expression but he definitely looked proud. Harry's insides calmed a little. Mrs Weasley was making cooing baby noises at Kirian, who kicked his feet in interest but couldn't manage a smile yet. Still he smelled pleased.
"…such a lovely boy," Mrs Weasley was saying, bouncing him slightly. Kirian gurgled, sucking his dummy contentedly. She sighed in a light, resigned manner. "I suppose nothing inherently bad could make something so good," she said, glancing up to Fenrir. "Harry is healthier than I've ever seen him."
Fenrir met her gaze levelly, giving nothing away.
"He is still very young," she said carefully.
"He is," Fenrir grunted.
Harry shifted in his chair, lips parting to protest that he was also still very here but Remus' hand on his forearm stopped him. The fact that his touch didn't make Harry jump back on instinct only further proved how much had changed since their earlier altercation. Remus felt like pack, he smelled like it too.
"He's so young," Mrs Weasley continued, "And you are–"
"Old enough," Fenrir replied, his voice gruff but with the usual coarse charm that made a smirk twitch at the corners of Harry's mouth. He watched with rapt attention as Mrs Weasley passed Kirian half-heartedly back to Fenrir when he started to fuss. Harry saw the exact moment when Mr and Mrs Weasley realised that Fenrir was no more a monster than Remus, Bill or Harry – in spite of everything. It was the moment when Fenrir pulled Kirian into one arm and just for a fleeting second, looked down at him as if he were the centre of the universe.
"Ginny will be alright, Harry," Mr Weasley said as Kirian was slipped back into Harry's arms and Remus started another pot of tea. "It's just a shock, unexpected, you know?"
Harry nodded tightly. "I know," he said, "I appreciate you making the effort to understand." Even if the man standing at his back was the reason their son had been mauled. It was a tribute to their love for him, Harry thought. Even if Remus, Ron and Hermione had ensured they understood what had happened to Bill was an honest accident, a misunderstanding it didn't take away the results that Bill had to live with all his life.
"It'll be alright, my boy," Mrs Weasley said, her voice tired but as warm and welcoming as the first day he'd met her. "We're family. 'Til the end."
Harry glanced at the door Ginny had vanished through with a pensive sadness in his chest, despite the warmth of the conversation now spreading through the room once more and Fenrir standing at his back again. Not everything could be fixed in one night, he knew that. The Weasleys had a long way to go before they could accept that the man that had scarred their son wasn't a monster. Was the father of his child. But it was a start.
When Mr and Mrs Weasley eventually rose to go find their daughter, Harry was surprised when Fenrir leant down to breathe in Harry's ear, "He's their son – that ginger boy."
Harry drew in a sharp breath, because he knew that Fenrir didn't mean Ron. He just knew what he meant. "Yes," he said, uncertainly, not knowing where this was going.
Fenrir made a low grumbling sound of understanding under his breath and straightened.
"Where are you going?" Harry asked with a frown, watching Fenrir cross the room in the direction of the stairs up out of the kitchen. The way Mr and Mrs Weasley had exited. Fenrir just gave him that look, the one he'd given Harry that night he'd sent Hemming and Lupa to his friends, the night he'd promised to give Harry everything. Then he was gone, ascending the stairs and out of sight.
Harry sagged back in his chair, stunned. It was hard to reconcile this bitter, coarse man with the brute he'd woken up to at that fireside all those months ago, absolutely starkers. They had come so far since then, both of them had grown so much and Harry wondered, not for the first or last time, what would happen if they all survived this.
Could he really come back to the wizarding world and live a life without Fenrir? Pretend Fenrir wasn't probably the only person he'd ever felt like…this with? Whatever this was? His head hurt. He had no idea what to do or what these feelings were – or how to deal with them.
"Whatever his faults," Hermione whispered thoughtfully, staring at the doorway. "He wants to do everything he can to make you comfortable." She turned her knowing gaze on Harry and reached out to rest her soft hand on his wrist. "But only you can know what you feel, Harry."
Harry stared at her. In truth, he didn't know what he felt either.
"More tea?" Remus offered helpfully, effectively saving Harry from the question that he had no answer to.
~To Be Continued…