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(especially in this chapter)

Taking a page out of some of my fellow fanfic writer's books, I've decided to base 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 adjusted into a Fenrir/Harry fanfic as a little writing exercise. It's been a litte while since I read the books/watched the movies so there may be some oversights.

This is my very first Fenrir Greyback/Harry Potter fanfic, so please let me know what you think.

*I apologize for any mistakes, I will fix them when I return home in November from my trip.

Here it is, the finale of Wizards and Werewolves Don't Mix, so I won't hold you up, ENJOY!

CHAPTER 11 - Reunited

"Fenrir, w-what are you doing here?!" Harry exclaims as he nervously fiddles with his flowing ministry robes.

The Head Auror is beyond shocked to find himself trapped in his Ministry office with the rather intimidating werewolf. Part of Harry is overjoyed to see the hulking and impressive frame of his mate, wanting no more than to lose himself in the man's embrace. Yet another part of the wizard is anxious, unsure of exactly why Fenrir is staring him down with an unwavering determination that refuses to be ignored.

"I'm here for you Harry," begins Fenrir, his gruff voice leaving no room for argument. "No matter what, you are still my mate."

As the man speaks, Harry subconsciously rubs his hand over the fading bite on the side of his throat. The innocent movement immediately draws Fenrir's eyes to the mark on his mate's neck. The bruise hasn't been refreshed in months, and is now so light that it is barely noticeable. In werewolf society, once a claim mark disappears from a claimed mate's skin, that mate once again becomes "unclaimed". At the mere thought of his wizard being with anyone else, a low growl leaves Fenrir's throat.

"So, err-what do you want with me?" asks Harry, a bit concerned with the growl that just escaped the man's lips.

"I came here to say that I was a selfish arse to you, for starters. I figured the rest would just come to me."

At those words, Harry's eyes soften as a hint of a smile graces his lips.

"Is this really the time for jokes, Fen?"

Despite the tone, the werewolf is encouraged by the use of his nickname.

"I'm bein' serious. I was an arse, and a stubborn one at that. I pushed you away thinking I could handle everythin' myself. It's what I'm used to."

"Fenrir, I—"

"I want you back, pup. So, let's fix this."

At the honest statement, Harry takes a step back, however he stumbles, loosing his footing on a bump in the thick carpet covering the floor. The wizard almost falls back into his desk, however Fenrir grabs his upper arm just in time to regain his footing. At the sudden closeness, Harry eyes widen and glance down nervously at his stomach. Following the wizard's suspicious gaze, Fenrir looks down only to be shocked into silence. Instead of the flat abdomen he was expecting to see on his mate, his piercing blue eyes are focused on a round, pregnant belly.

Fenrir's mind is a complete blank as he processes what he is seeing. Off handedly, he notices that the belly has grown larger since the last time he saw it. Harry's flowing robes, and what he suspects is a light cloaking charm, have managed to do a moderately good job hiding it from afar, but at the close range it is obvious.

"Why the fuck are you still pregnant, Harry?!" demands the werewolf, his gaze never leaving the belly housing his still, very-much alive child.

At the silence that answers his question, the man looks up—hoping that whatever expression is on Harry's face will explain what is going on. However, the wizard's face is frozen in an odd mixture of fear and guilt, his mouth making attempts to form words.

"You told me you lost our cub."

"I-I know what I told you. That day, I wasn't thinking clearly, at all. We both needed some space and I knew you wouldn't leave me alone if you thought I was still pregnant. So, I lied. I know it was horrible and incredibly selfish but I felt so stupid and naïve for trusting in you. And I swear, eventually I was going to tell you—"

The wizard is shut up as the man kisses him so intensely that Harry's words are quickly forgotten. At first, the kiss is one sided as the wizard seems to be in shock. Then, Harry's lips start to respond to the familiar passion that hallmarked all of their affections. A soft moan escapes the Head Auror as the comforting squeeze of well-muscled arms presses him against the werewolf's chest. Feeling his mate finally give into the sudden embrace, Fenrir growls possessively. Large hands slide down the slim body to rest on the slight curve of Harry's hips.

The kiss lasts far longer than either intended it to, but neither the werewolf nor the wizard seem to mind. Pulling back for a moment in order to catch their breaths, Fenrir lowers his head to watch the wizard. Harry's hands clench tightly in Fenrir's weathered coat, as his head of messy, dark hair buries into the man's chest. The nostalgic sight of his pregnant mate against him makes the werewolf swell with pride.

"I don't know how we can fix this, Fenrir," admits Harry, as he raises his head a bit. "I don't even know how you can bear to look at me right now, knowing what I did."

At the miserable tone of the wizard's voice, Fenrir lowers his own timbre to a low whisper.

"We both fucked up, Harry. Me especially. What's most important is that we still have our cub."

Fenrir's large hands slide down to grasp the wizard's swollen belly. Reverently the man pushes aside the flowing robes, half afraid that this is only some dream. When his hands rest on the protruding curve of his mate's stomach he lets out a breath he had been holding. A rare genuine smile crosses the man's face when he feels movement underneath his palm.

Seeing the relieved expression on his mate's face, Harry uses both hands to raise Fenrir's head. When his green eyes are level with the werewolf's piercing blue, the wizard bites his lip as he tries to start the conversation that needs to take place.

"I am so sorry, Fenrir. I never should have let you believe that we lost our baby, not even for one second. It wasn't fair. You are completely within your rights to never forgive me for that. I'll both understand and respect that."

"Why did you lie, Harry?"

Dropping his gaze for a moment, Harry reply to the unexpected question comes out as a whisper.

"Honestly, I was scared."

"Of what, me?"

"No, not of you. I was scared of what I was prepared to do for you," begins Harry awkwardly. "Merlin, I'm not explaining this well . . ."

Taking a second to think over his words, Harry restarts his explanation.

"Alright, when you came to see me in the hospital, I had already forgiven you for not telling me about Alaska. Honestly, I was just annoyed that you hadn't talked to me about it. But then I started to realize that even if you had talked to me about it, I probably would have just gone along with it, just to make you happy. But, that isn't me. Being that compliant, made me relive the times in my life where I had no control and it scared me. It started to feel like I was that odd boy living in the Dursley's closet beneath the stairs, just doing what I had to do to make someone else happy. I mean, everything happened so quickly between the two of us. And if it was just me I had to worry about, it wouldn't be such a huge deal. But, we have a baby on the way and it just isn't about me or just you anymore. I needed time to figure out if this is what I really wanted. I needed time to seriously consider if our situation was best for an innocent child to grow up in."

Looking up into the man's eyes, Harry takes a deep breath as he tries to figure out how to explain this next part. The wizard not entirely sure how the werewolf would take it.

"Admittedly, I was also giving you an out, Fenrir. Ever since Abigail was hospitalized and when you spoke with Kingsley, you've been distant. I started thinking that you were regretting being with me. I mean, neither of us honestly expected a long-term relationship to come from that one night. We both had plans for our lives, and I didn't want to hold you back just because you managed to impregnate me. Our baby couldn't be the only reason why we were together. It would be unfair for either of us, but especially our son. So I figured that telling you that we lost the baby would make it easier. That you could go and live your life with your packs without feeling obligated to me. And eventually, your claim on me would fade and you would be free to find someone that would be a better mate for you."

Harry stops for a second, visibly disturbed by the mere idea of Fenrir finding a replacement mate. Intense green eyes then stare up at the werewolf who is technically still all his.

"Letting you go was the hardest thing I ever had to do, but I didn't want you to end up resenting me, or worse our baby. I could handle you hating me, but I couldn't handle our son being hurt because of an issue in our relationship. And once I finished getting everything settled here at the Ministry, I was going to tell you in person about our baby, I swear. I was never planning to keep you out of his life."

Fenrir is silent for an unimaginable amount of time. All he does is continually caress his growing cub as he digests Harry's explanation. However for Harry, those minutes pass by agonizingly slow. His eyes remain on the large man before him, trying to read the impenetrable expression on his rugged face.

"So, what did you decide?"

"What?" asks the wizard, surprised by the lone question that leaves Fenrir's lips.

"You said that you wanted to think over our relationship, right? So, what did you decide?"

Most people would see Fenrir's demand as just that, a type of domination that is typical for an alpha werewolf such as himself. But to his mate, to Harry, he sees the vulnerability that peeks through his words. At this realization, Harry smiles up at the man sincerely.

"I decided to remind myself why I became your mate in the first place, Fenrir. Thinking back on our entire relationship, with all that's happened between us, I realized that I'm in love you. Even if it makes no sense to anyone else and our life together is forever chronicled by the front page headlines of the Daily Prophet, I truly don't care. I love being mated to you. And I decided that if you ever managed to forgive me for everything I put you through, I would do whatever I had to do in order to make it up to you. I know that I can't ever fully make up for what I did. There are some things that can't be forgiven."

A proud smile graces the werewolf's face as he sees the spunk in Harry that originally gained his attention all those months ago in that muggle pub.

"So, you love me, eh?"

"Yes, I do."

"Pup, I get it," begins Fenrir, his deep voice having a sobering timbre to it. "I wasn't exactly the shinin' example of a perfect mate, for a load of reasons. You're carrying our son, your job is to protect the cub from anything that could possibly harm him—even me. That bein' said, you don't ever do anythin' like that again, you hear me?"

At the statement, Harry nods emphatically. The wizard not trusting himself with words at the moment.

"Good. I couldn't handle losin' either of you again."

For a moment the two are silent. Harry is in complete shock of the amount of emotion the elder man is exposing. It might not be the most romantic of proclamations, but the wizard knows that the man shows his feelings through actions than words. The fact that he is still here, despite everything that has transpired between them, means more than anything that the werewolf could ever say.

Fenrir spends the time thinking to himself. While he is rightfully angry about the lie, he knows that Harry needed the time to think. Without a doubt, the alpha would have followed his pregnant mate to the ends of the Earth only further destroying their relationship. By werewolf society, even if the mate rejects the sire, the wolf would still be viciously over-protective of his unborn cub.

But as he thinks all of this, one thought is most prevalent in Fenrir's mind—overwhelming gratitude. His mate and his cub are in his arms once again, both alive and well. And staring down into the emerald eyes he had missed, he only finds sincere remorse looking back at him.

Not knowing what to say, Fenrir simply leans forward and presses his forehead against Harry's. The werewolf's eyes return to their growing baby as he caresses his mate's belly.

"Our cub's gotten so big. It's only been six weeks."

"Yeah, he has quite the appetite."

"Has he been any trouble?"

"No, not really. But he missed you, especially during full moons. Apparently, they make him just as restless as his father."

Thinking back to the days leading up to the last full moon they spent together, Fenrir locks his eyes with Harry.

"Pup,"

"Yes?"

"There are few people in my life that have the balls to tell me when I'm being an arse. Especially to my face and in public."

"I still can't believe I did that," winces Harry, remembering the scene that the two must have made that night. "I was just so angry that I wasn't even thinking about where we were. I mean, it's my fault that everyone found out about us."

"There's no need to apologize for being honest with me, I respect that. Besides, I was wrong."

Harry's eyes widen at the man's admission. Seeing it, a grin tugs at Fenrir's lips.

"I'm not perfect, and at times I need to be reminded of that. It keeps me in my place, not just as Alpha of my pack, but as your mate."

"Well, I still shouldn't have antagonized you so close to the full moon. You aren't in the best state of mind for an intense discussion about our relationship. I was frustrated, but I should have waited and talked to you about it. This isn't going to work if we can't talk to each other properly."

"So, you still want this to work, then?" asks the wolf.

"Yes, I do. The real question is, do you?"

Seeing the fear of rejection that lingers in Harry's eyes for the lie he told, Fenrir's face softens. He knows that if he chose to, he could hold onto his anger at that deception. Like Harry said, he is perfectly within his rights to do so . . .

Or he could let it go and hold on to his family. The one thing he has been wanting to do since he found out that he was finally going to have one of his own.

"I have my family back, I'm not going anywhere."

At the smile that blooms across the wizard's face, Fenrir knows that he made the right choice.

"So then, I guess that I—I mean, we are still yours."

"Damn straight," growls out the werewolf as he pulls Harry to him.

His arms wrap around Fenrir as he is gently pressed against the familiar musculature of his mate and kissed within an inch of his life. When his lips are finally released, Harry is panting for breath. A growl of displeasure leaves the werewolf's throat, throwing the wizard off.

"What is it?"

"It's faded."

"What has?"

"My mark. It's faded. And you barely have my scent anymore," murmurs the werewolf as he buries his nose into Harry's hair. "Can't have that can we?"

Fenrir leans in to refresh the bruise that contrasts the rest of his wizard's throat. The second that the werewolf's sharp teeth meet Harry's skin a small moan escapes the wizard's lips.

The sudden and incapacitating influx of Fenrir's pheromones make Harry lightheaded. This far along into his pregnancy, the werewolf genetics are still enhancing the wizard's senses to near lycanthropic levels. And for a little under two months, he has been without the constant, yet strong dominant scent of Fenrir Greyback. So being engulfed in the familiar scent so suddenly, Harry is completely taken by surprise by the effect it has on him. A pure sensory overload threatens to intoxicate the pregnant wizard as the werewolf reestablishes his claim. However, the rapid cramps that start assaulting his abdomen make Harry's knees weak with pain. He collapses into Fenrir's arms, which quickly tighten to support the wizard's weight.

"What's wrong, pup?"

Taking a moment to inhale a few breaths of air, Harry looks up at the concerned werewolf with an incredulous look.

"I-I think the baby's coming."

"But your birthing appointment was scheduled for next week, wasn't it?"

"Well the baby doesn't seem to care. It wants out now!"

In an impressively short amount of time, a flurry of Mediwizards and witches clear the main hall of the Ministry of Magic that leads up to the Head Auror's office. Gathered around the makeshift barricade, random ministry employees mill about for news on the birth of the century. Meanwhile, inside the office, Harry Potter is lying on the floor with his head in Fenrir's lap. The man's heavy coat is used as an additional pad for the thick carpeting as "The Boy Who Lived" prepares to bring his son into the world. Around the couple is Healer Merriweather and her team of mediwizards from Saint Mungo's as they set up the spell needed to safely remove the cub from Harry's body.

"Breathe, pup," coaches Fenrir as he brushes messy dark hair from the wizard's face. "Nice and easy, there we go."

"Don't tell me what to do Fenr—Ow! Merlin, this bloody hurts."

"Scream all you want, Harry. I'm right here."

"Get away from me!" screeches out the wizard, attempting to push the large man away with little effect.

"Don't worry, I'm sure that's just the pain talking, ," assures Healer Merriweather as she continues to prep Harry for the procedure. "Apparently it's a common reaction in all deliveries."

"It doesn't matter, I'm not leaving him, either of them, ever again. I don't give a shite what Harry says to me."

When the next muscle contraction hits, Harry tightens his grip on the man's thigh. Fenrir is surprised with the strength in his mate's small hands as he squeezes through the pain, his mouth open in a silent scream.

"I'm not actually giving birth, why does it hurt so bloody much!" screams out the Head Auror as the excruciating pain passes.

"Your body is still going through remarkably similar motions for a traditional birth," answers Healer Merriweather, using her wand to see if Harry's body is ready to deliver. "Like we discussed before, the baby is in a womb in your body, it just doesn't have a way to naturally push the baby out. I suspect without medical assistance this process would be even more painful than it is."

"Oh, I find that rather hard to believe at the moment," replies Harry sarcastically, just before another moan of pain passes through his lips.

"Alright Mr. Potter, it looks like the baby has completely separated from your body. We're ready to welcome your baby boy into the world. Like we talked about, we are going to use alchemy to ease the process since you don't have the necessary anatomy. Are you ready?"

Panting, it takes a moment for Harry to respond.

"Y-yeah, I guess."

At the words, Fenrir moves back a bit to give the Mediwizards, including Healer Merriweather, room to do the delicate procedure. He is stopped however by the renewed grip of his smaller mate.

"Don't go, Fen, please! I'm sorry I didn't mean any of the horrible things I said," Harry pleads, bringing Fenrir closer to him. "I missed you so much."

At the tear-filled viridian eyes staring up at him pleadingly, Fenrir leans down and cups the side of the wizard's face with one of his large hands. His thumb starts to caress a flushed cheek in a comforting manner.

"I'm not going anywhere, pup. I promise." the werewolf whispers low enough so that only the auror can hear the conviction in his voice. "I'm never leaving my mate and cub ever again."

At the possessive growl that tinges the man's words, Harry looks up. His forest green eyes widen as Fenrir's gaze remains steadily on him. The piercing blue orbs are intense with the werewolf's unspoken yearning for his mate.

"You missed me?"

Realizing that the conversation seems to be distracting Harry from the pain, Fenrir starts talking more.

"I must have. I've been carrying this around with me just because it smelled the most like you."

At the familiar yellow and burgundy scarf that is taken out of Fenrir's pocket, Harry manages to smile.

"I was looking for my scarf. Ah! I-I thought I lost it."

"And, I bought our cottage in Hogsmeade from the Ministry."

"You did?"

"That's were we made the cub. Only seemed right that he grows up there too."

"Fen, I—You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to."

At the gesture, Harry manages to give the man a smile even through the discomfort in his abdomen. The pain has ebbed considerably, most likely due to whatever numbing spell that the healers have cast on him. Harry lets out a sigh of relief as everything below his chest feels pleasantly numb. The mediwizards then set up a partition over his chest so that the couple can't see everything that this particular birthing process entails.

"Alright, Harry, we are removing the baby from the womb," informs Healer Merriweather with a comforting smile. "If you feel any pain let me know, we'll reinforce the numbing spell. We just need you to stay calm and relaxed, okay?"

"I can do that, I think. I'm not in pain anymore, it just feels really weird."

"That should be normal. We aren't making any incisions into your body like a muggle surgery, but we still have to shift some organs out of the way. I assure you that so far everything is going very well."

The two parents share a look with each other at the mention of shifting organs, but decide to have faith in Healer Merriweather—the woman hasn't steered them wrong yet. Holding his mate's hand, Fenrir runs a hand through Harry's unruly locks. The thick hair is sweaty, but the werewolf revels in being close to his mate once again.

"You're doing so good, pup," murmurs Fenrir.

"I'm glad you're here."

At the admittance, the werewolf smiles down at his mate.

"Alright you two, get ready to meet your baby. He's coming out now."

As the healers finish removing the baby from Harry, they moving slowly as not to shock the cub with the change in environment—or trigger Harry's magical core to protect the newborn.

"I need a blanket," remarks Healer Merriweather to one of her assistants.

With bated breath, the two parents wait to hear the first cry of their newborn son, and anxiously try to look over the partition. A few moments pass before the air is suddenly pierced with the wailing cry of a newborn baby—their newborn baby. Harry and Fenrir breath a sigh of relief at the healthy sound leaving their son's mouth.

Another minute passes before the partition is taken down and the healer approaches them with a bundle in her arms. With a wide smile Healer Merriweather gently places the baby into Harry's waiting arms.

"Harry, Fenrir, I'd like you to meet your son. A healthy boy with all twenty of his fingers and toes, ten each respectively."

As Harry holds his son, his own eyes are wide with tired wonder as he looks down at the newborn baby. Pale blue eyes stare up at him, the infant is so tiny in his arms. The baby's shrill screams quiet down as he somehow recognizes that he is in his carrier's arms.

"Our cub is perfect."

Looking up at the man's words, Harry smiles.

"Yeah, he is."

Now that the drama of the impromptu birth of his son has passed, Fenrir watches his new family with pride as Healer Merriweather and her team gets ready to transport Harry and the baby to Saint Mungo's. The man knows firsthand that the wizard is tired from the ordeal, yet he somehow manages to find the energy to coo soothing words to their newborn son. Lost in the endearing scene, Fenrir barely notices as Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt comes up behind him.

"How are they doing?"

"They're resting. The Healer's are finishing up with their checks."

"Good, Harry deserves some decent rest. He hasn't been himself lately and I've lost count how many times I've told him not to work too hard this past week. But like always, he is stubborn. Something the two of you have in common, by the way."

"Wait, what do you mean he's been working too hard?" inquires the werewolf, focusing on the most important part of Kingsley's words. "I thought you had him banned from field work."

"I did. For the last month, Harry has been personally reviewing all Ministry procedures on magical child care with Hermione and her department. He had the Magical Children Protection Agency running for their money, practically daring them to come after you or your kid. It also turns out that the M.C.P.A. never completed their committee paperwork and have been making false claims for years in order to simply divide families they deemed unsuitable. Harry even found the time to draw up official paperwork claiming you as a official consultant to the auror department on lycanthropy. So now, you and all your packs are officially under his direct jurisdiction and permanent Ministry protection, pending approval by the Minister of Magic, of course."

"So, what does that all mean, Kingsley?"

"Basically, if any one gets the idea to separate you from Harry and your son or your packs, they'll have bureaucratic hell to pay. Brilliant work on Harry's part I must say."

"Yeah, brilliant," agrees Fenrir absentmindedly as his attention drifts over to the wizard gently stroking the chubby cheeks of their newborn son.

"It never ceases to amuse me how everyone just expects Harry to be a kind, well-mannered young man," ponders Shacklebolt, regaining the werewolf's attention. "So when he needs to remind the Ministry exactly who is was that saved them all from Lord Voldemort, I always support him. After all, it is not advantageous to be on the bad side of one Harry James Potter."

Fenrir is speechless as this side of Harry is revealed to him. At the expression of newfound respect making it's way onto the man's face, Kingsley smiles knowingly.

"Go take care of your family Greyback, I'll handle the Daily Prophet. It's the least I can do."

Letting the Minister do just that, Fenrir goes to join Harry. However he doesn't make it past the doorway as his eyes settle on his family. The wizard is still sitting on the carpeted floor, but now he is resting against the front of his desk. Beyond them, the Minister of Magic keeps onlookers away and addresses a Daily Prophet Reporter that managed to get past the ministry employees patrolling the hallway. Seeing the look of awe on the werewolf's face, Healer Merriweather and her staff leave to give the new parents a few moments alone.

Unaware of the effect he is having on the intimidating werewolf, Harry cuddles his newborn son to his chest watching the small movements the infant makes as he looks at the world for the first time. A bright smile is plastered on the wizard's face, despite the painful ordeal he just went through. Snapping out of his trance, Fenrir crosses the room and sits down next to Harry.

"I just can't get over how beautiful he is," comments Harry as his fingers gingerly pet their son's cheek.

"Takes after his carrier."

Blushing at the compliment, Harry subconsciously tucks a loose strand of his own dark hair behind his ear. The jet black color is reflected almost perfectly in their son's soft dusting of baby hair.

"Can I hold him?"

"Of course, Fenrir, he is your son, too."

Gently, Harry transfers the baby into his mate's arms. With wonder, the man stares down at his first born son as the baby's eyes stare back at the man. The second he holds him, Fenrir instantly and completely forgives everything that Harry has done before this moment. After all, this innocent baby, his son, is worth protecting no matter the cost. Suddenly, the man understands with shocking clarity how Harry could do something as drastic as tell him that he has lost their cub. It wasn't an action done out of cruelty, it was done out of pure, unconditional love for the baby that Fenrir is now holding in his arms. Everything else, seems to pale in comparison to the new life that Harry has just brought into the world.

"What're we going to name him?"

"I don't know," replies Harry honestly as he watches his son drift off to sleep. "We never got a chance to properly discuss it. And it just didn't feel right naming him without you."

"Did you have anythin' in mind?" ask the werewolf, smiling as he feels Harry lean into him.

"Nothing really felt right, how about you?"

Fenrir takes but a moment to think before a name comes to mind.

"I like Lorcan."

"Lorcan?"

"It's a good strong name. You don't like it?"

"No, I do, actually," comments Harry, mulling the name around in his mind for a few moments as he gazes as his son. "Lorcan Greyback, do you like that, little guy?"

The dozing baby simply gurgles at the question, making his carrier smile at the adorable action.

"Lorcan Potter-Greyback, you mean. There's no reason he can't have both our last names."

Harry smiles at that correction as he continues to gaze down at their son. The newborn baby appears to be even more delicate nestled in the thick, muscled forearms of Fenrir Greyback. Although the infant doesn't seem to care and only snuggles further into his father's warm embrace.

"Speaking of names, you don't think Lorcan is going to want to call me 'Mum', do you?"

"Dunno, I think it would be cute," replies Fenrir, ignoring the look the comment earns him from his mate. "Do you mind if he does?"

"Not really, I mean I did carry him for the last nine months. I am his mother, technically."

At that, both parents watch their son in silence.

"So," begins Harry, tearing his eyes away from Lorcan to look the werewolf beside him in the eye. "Do you think he'll like camping out with your pack?"

The peace offering, disguised as a simply inquiry makes a soft smile tug at the gruff man's lips.

"Probably about as much as he'll like learning magic from you and your lot."

Leaning over, Fenrir uses his free hand to tilt the wizard's face towards his. A feral smirk is the only warning he gives before the werewolf kisses his mate deeply. Soft lips part for him with no fight as the wizard gives into Fenrir's ministrations. However, the dominating kiss is cut short when Harry smiles against his mate's lips.

"Fenrir, ah!should we be doing this in front of Lorcan?"

"Seeing how this led to the kid, I don't think he'll mind us," grumbles out the man as he leans in to properly finish the kiss he started. All the while, being extremely careful not to wake the sleeping baby.

~One year later~

After the birth of their child in the Ministry of Magic, Harry and Fenrir are living quite happily in their cottage just outside Hogsmeade. It has been magically expanded once again to accommodate for a nursery for baby Lorcan as well as "baby proofed" to avoid any accidents. As agreed, the Greyback-Potter family has been spending their time alternating between the isolated cabin and living amongst Fenrir's pack in the warmer seasons. The Russian Taiga, as well as the pack of werewolves, have enthusiastically welcomed Harry and Lorcan. Fenrir has never felt prouder in his life than when he spent his first full moon with his family amongst his pack, the baby revealing that he has taken after his father by transforming for the first time into a black ball of fluff.

At the moment, Harry is sitting on the soft rug covering the wooden floor as his baby is sitting up in the nest of his crossed legs. The Hogsmeade cottage is warmed pleasantly by a charmed fire that crackles in the large fireplace. With his wand out, the wizard is keeping a stuffed teddy bear just out of reach from his son's outstretched arms. Cooing excitedly over the floating toy, Lorcan is all smiles.

"And that, Lory, is the levitation spell. Wingardium Leviosa. Can you say that?"

"Ahh . . . lalala," babbles the baby, reaching for the levitating teddy bear before him. The child's bright blue eyes are wide with pure wonder.

A chuckle escapes Harry's lips as he watches his son's renewed efforts to reclaim his favorite stuffed animal.

"Close enough, Sweetheart. Next time, try enunciating."

Lorcan easily catches the stuffed bear once the spell is released and then immediately tries to put one of its paws into his mouth. Removing the paw with an indulgent smile, Harry almost misses the sound of the front door opening and closing.

"Welcome home, Fenrir."

"Hullo you two."

At the man's deep voice, both Harry and the baby turn their gazes to Fenrir as he walks towards them. The large man doesn't hesitate to join the two on the floor and picks up Lorcan with a broad smile. A squeal of joy leaves the baby's mouth as his father raises him up in the air.

"Dada! Dada!"

"I still can't believe he learned to say 'Dada', first."

"I can," Harry replies with a warm smile. "When I was carrying him, he was the most active around you. I'm sure the second Lory can walk on his own, he'll be following you everywhere trying to be just like his 'Dada'."

Laughing at the image, Fenrir rolls onto his back and lifts the baby into the air. Lorcan squeals in delight as his tiny hands reach towards his father.

"The cub seems excited, what'd you two do today?"

"Well, Hermione came to visit with Rosie," informs Harry, reaching out a hand to run his fingers through his mate's thick hair. "She is getting so big now. I can already tell that Lorcan and Rose are going to be getting into heaps of trouble when they're older."

"Just like you and your friends, eh?"

At the grin on Fenrir's face, Harry smiles in return. The Head Auror is unable to deny that claim.

"Let's just hope that they don't get into as much trouble as we did."

"They won't."

The simple reply from the werewolf surprises Harry. Not by the two literal words, but by the absolute certainty in which they are delivered. Fenrir hasn't even shifted his focus from the baby wiggling in his arms, yet the man could instantly sense the direction that the wizard's thoughts were about to travel.

In the past year, "The Boy Who Lived" has had many restless nights obsessed with the thought that his son would have the same start he would in life. Yet oddly enough, Harry finds that he is comforted by the man's declaration—in the same way that Fenrir's embrace would soothe away any of Harry's nightmares. The wizard simply smiles, secure in the knowledge that his werewolf would protect both him and their children from any danger.

And speaking of which . . .

"Fenrir, are you doing anything tomorrow?" asks Harry, glancing down at the man beside him.

"Nope. Why?"

"Well, I was hoping that now that the new laws concerning Magical Creatures and their families have been enacted, we could go into the Ministry of Magic and officially register us as a family. That way no one will be able to separate us and our baby."

"Sounds good to me, pup."

Relieved by the lack of hesitation to Fenrir's response, Harry is surprised when a thick arm winds around his waist and suddenly pulls him into the man's lap. A few moments later, Lorcan is deposited into Harry's waiting arms as the werewolf's stubbled chin rests on his mate's shoulder.

"I was wondering what was taking you so long to ask," comments Fenrir, his lips right beside Harry's left ear.

"Well, I guess that I wanted to be sure of the baby, first."

Looking down as their infant son, more than content to be seated once again in Harry's lap, Fenrir's gaze returns to Harry's.

"Lorcan seems fine with it."

"Well actually, I was talking about this baby."

Moving one of the man's large hands to his lower belly, Harry smirks knowingly.

"According to Healer Merriweather, I'm eight weeks along now."

Shocked into silence, Fenrir's hand starts to reverently caress the flat abdomen that is housing his second child.

"When did this happen?"

"I'm not exactly sure. Probably sometime after she gave us the all clear to er—be intimate again."

A lecherous grin steals across Fenrir's face as he remembers that night. Harry had managed to arrange for Scarlett and Derrick to watch Lorcan, giving them a night completely to themselves since their son was born. The twelve hours they had to themselves, Fenrir spent reclaiming his mate—thoroughly.

"I've only known about it for a few days now," continues Harry, not noticing the less-than-proper turn of the werewolf's thoughts. "I was afraid that you already knew since Hermione said that you were able to detect when she was pregnant with Rose. I've been a nervous wreck thinking that you'd figure it out before I got a chance to tell you."

"Females are different, their hormones and scent change drastically once they get pregnant. I can't detect your pregnancies the same way, is all. My guess is that since our cubs have some magic help, it's different."

Fenrir's words taper off as he just stares at his mate for a few long moments. His eyes narrow in concentration just before a slow smile stretches across his face.

"What is it?" asks Harry, a bit wary of the leering expression on the man's face.

"Just thinkin', you're pretty fertile aren't you, pup?" comments Fenrir, his hand rubbing proudly over the growing baby in his mate's belly.

"It's not my fault you can't keep it in your trousers," Harry replies with a cheeky grin, his arms keeping Lorcan from crawling out of the nest of his and Fenrir's legs.

"I'm a werewolf, it's part of the package," the man replies as he gives a rough lick to the claiming mark on the wizard's throat. "High sex drive and all that."

A shiver travels through Harry's body at the intimate contact, temporarily preventing him from answering Fenrir's statement.

"I know, Merlin do I know. However, I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Good, because I've always wanted a big family with my perfect mate."

"Me too," answers Harry with a soft smile.

With that, the wizard settles back into the werewolf's embrace, as their infant son drifts off to sleep. A slightly-wet paw of his favorite teddy bear suspiciously close to his tiny mouth as his parents share a loving kiss.

THE END!

I hope that you all enjoyed this story as much as I have fun writing it! This was an experiment with a new fandom, and I am happy to say that it has been an awesome experience. I plan to add to the fandom in the future, but at this time I can't give any time frame. And as promised, I will draw some fanart of this particular fic. Let me know what you'd be interested in seeing and I might draw it.

Anyways, until the next fanfic-

LATER DAYS!