Persephone Yavanna the Entwife (theentwyfe) wrote,
Persephone Yavanna the Entwife

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Potterverse Fic -- God Rest Ye Merry Werewolves

Title: God Rest Ye Merry Werewolves
Author: Persephone Yavanna the Entwife
Pairing/Characters: Harry, Fenrir, Hermione and Kreacher
Wordcount: 3625
Rating: G for gen (in other words, completely work-safe!)
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: JK Rowling and assorted others have rights to create derivative works within the Potterverse, but I am not one of those licensees, unfortunately. Rather not be sued for playing with the characters, though . . . not making a profit here, just exploring the characters and situations created by the esteemed Ms. Rowling.
Summary: Harry returns early from Christmas festivities at the Burrow
Author Notes: Occurs after Wolf at the Door. The Yule Log is a NYC tradition, where commercial-free Christmas music is played on Christmas Eve by area stations -- the original TV station that started the tradition used to show a burning fireplace for the video portion of the show.

God Rest Ye Merry Werewolves

Fenrir sat on the armchair by the parlor fire, watching while Harry ran about, trying to make sure he’d gotten all the packages together for all the Weasleys and hadn’t forgotten any. Teddy cooed and pulled at the chest hair peeking out of Fenrir’s dressing gown. Wincing, he disentangled the baby’s fist and let him grab at his fingers instead, watching as the child’s hair slowly changed from blue to green.

Harry ran a hand through his hair. “George. Bill. Fleur. Charlie. Molly. Arthur. Percy! Where’d I put Percy’s?”

“Over there, on the sofa,” Fenrir rumbled.

“Thanks!” Harry grabbed it and placed it on the pile on the side table. “Ron. Hermione. There – all done!” he said with a relieved grin.

“You forgot one.”

“I did? Who?”

“Ginny. Wouldn’t do to forget your lady on Christmas.”

Harry paled. “Oh God – she’d murder me if I did that . . . Where’d I put it?” He looked franticly around the room. “Is it under the tree? Can you see?”

Fenrir craned his neck, as best he was able with Teddy holding onto his beard. “Let go, little wolf,” he said, removing the baby’s fist and trying to keep his ears out of range. “I don’t see anything from here – is it upstairs maybe?”

“I hope so, else the Prophet will have a great headline tomorrow – ‘Chosen One Turned Into Lump of Coal by Forgotten Fiancee’ . . .” Harry groaned. “KREACHER!”

The house-elf popped into the room in front of Harry, flour smudge on his nose and cinnamon streaks on his teatowel. “Yes, Master Harry?”

“Do you know where I put Ginny’s present? I can’t remember where I put it . . .”

“Rear hall closet, under a pile of Wellies and a grey cloak – you told me to leave it there like that so she wouldn’t notice when she came by. You said she’d tidy your room and closet but not touch that because of the wolf’s things.”

“Right, right,” Harry said, breathing a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Kreacher. Baking done yet?”

“Almost, Master – one last batch baking now,” Kreacher replied.

Fenrir sniffed the air. “I think you better check on them – I think they’re about to be burnt.”

Kreacher’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh NO!” he cried, disappearing with a pop.

Harry looked at Fenrir with a grin. “You’re just teasing him again, aren’t you?”

“Not this time – I really do smell something burning,” Fenrir said. He shifted Teddy on his lap. “Ginny’s present?”

“Oh, right.” Harry hurried out of the room.

Fenrir heard the closet door open and then the sound of things falling and Harry swearing. “You alright out there?” he called.

Harry returned with a large parcel, rubbing his head. “I’ll live. Any scars?”

“None visible,” Fenrir said with a grin. “Shall I kiss the wounds to make them feel better?”

“Please,” Harry said, bending down. Fenrir nuzzled his hair as he planted a few kisses on Harry’s head before pulling him down for a long slow kiss.

“Mmmmmm,” Harry sighed. “You’ll be alright here, by yourself?” he asked, looking at the older wizard with concern in his eyes.

“Better here than held at wandpoint at the Weasley’s,” Fenrir murmured into his ear as he nibbled the lobe. “I have the tree to keep me company, not to mention Kreacher and the dulcet tones of Celestina Warbeck on the wireless.”

“We’ll be back tomorrow,” Harry promised, “right after Christmas dinner there.” He caressed the werewolf’s hair as he gave him another long kiss. Fenrir passed Teddy to him and watched as Harry shrank the pile of presents and stowed them in the pocket of his holiday robe.

“Kreacher, I need the cookies now – we’re about to go!” Harry bellowed in the direction of the kitchen.

A distraught Kreacher came in, tears in his eyes. “The last batch was ruined – the wolf was right,” he wailed. Harry stopped him from hurting himself just in time, grabbing the ash shovel from his wizened hands.

“NO! No hurting yourself over a few burnt cookies!” Harry shouted. “If you need to punish yourself that badly, you can watch Fenrir eat them, alright?”

“Yes, Master,” Kreacher sniffled. He disappeared for a few moments, returning with a decorated box which he handed to Harry and a plate of dark brown cookies, which he placed on the table next to Fenrir, watching with a mournful expression as the grey-haired wizard ate one as he smiled at the house-elf.

“Very tasty, Kreacher – thank you!” Fenrir said with a grin, and Kreacher sobbed loudly. Harry looked up to the ceiling, mentally counting to ten – twice.

“Are you two finished?” he ground out between gritted teeth. Fenrir just smiled at him while Kreacher slowly nodded, tears running down his face. “Good. Now we’re off – try not to kill one another while Teddy and I are away, will you?”

“Perish the thought!” Fenrir said with a laugh while Kreacher scowled at the rug. “Kreacher and I are the best of mates, aren’t we?”

Kreacher glared at the werewolf, who chortled and bit into another cookie.

Harry shook his head and grabbed some Floo powder with the hand that wasn’t full of godson and cookies. “The Burrow!” he cried as he stepped into the fireplace.

Fenrir watched the fire for a few moments after Harry and Teddy had disappeared. He sat back in the chair, the cheerful expression he had worn before gone. He looked at the still-seething house-elf and said, “They really are good, even if they are a bit burnt.”

Kreacher bowed stiffly to him and said, “I presume Master Wolf will want some milk to go with his cookies?”

“Yes, Kreacher, that would be very nice, thank you,” Fenrir said solemnly. “And don’t forget to spit in it too – it adds to the flavour.”

Narrowing his eyes at the werewolf, Kreacher disappeared with a pop, returning shortly thereafter with a large glass of cold milk, which he placed next to the cookies on the table. “Goodnight, Master Wolf.”

“Goodnight, Kreacher – and Happy Christmas.”

“And to you too, sir – Happy Christmas.” The house-elf bowed stiffly before retreating to the hall. Fenrir heard him wishing the portrait of his dear departed mistress a Happy Christmas as he retired for the night.

Fenrir turned his head and looked at the tree and the fairies that lit it for a while, before getting up and adding some more fuel to the fire. Straightening up, he moved towards the window and looked at the snowy scene outside, then began to softly sing.

God rest ye merry werewolves
Let nothing you dismay
Remember wolfsbane was
Brewed for you today
To save you all from the power
Of the moon’s ray
Oh tidings of comfort and joy
Comfort and joy
Oh tidings of comfort and joy!

In potions masters’ dungeons
This blessed brew was born
And steaming given unto you
Upon this blessed morn.
Freedom from the fetters
Of lycanthropy do not scorn!
Oh tidings of comfort and joy
Comfort and joy
Oh tidings of comfort and joy!

Fear not the terrible taste
Of the brew this night
For it brings freedom to you
In your terrible plight
For it will deliver you
From Selene’s power and might.
Oh tidings of comfort and joy
Comfort and joy
Oh tidings of comfort and joy!

The werewolves at these tidings
Rejoiced much in mind
And bayed out their joy
And relief entwined
Then went to the apothecaries
Wolfsbane to find.
Oh tidings of comfort and joy
Comfort and joy
Oh tidings of comfort and joy

Fenrir rested his head against the glass, eyes shut. He raised a hand to his face and wiped at an eye as he straightened up. He went to the fireplace mantel and took down the picture of Remus and Nymphadora that was there, turned on the wireless and settled back down in the chair by the fire, laying the picture on his chest as he closed his eyes and the sounds of the Singing Sorceress filled the room.

He awoke with a start at the sound of a child’s wailing, the picture on his chest falling to the rug as he stood when Harry came through the fireplace, grim-faced as he tried to comfort Teddy. “What happened? Why are you home so early?” Fenrir cried.

Handing Teddy over to Fenrir, Harry said, “There was a row. I left. That’s all you need to know.”

Fenrir sat back down and jiggled the baby on his knee and wiped at his face with the corner of his dressing gown, cooing at him as he watched Harry pace back and forth.

Kreacher popped in, concerned look on his face. He opened his mouth to say something but caught Fenrir’s shake of the head and shut his mouth, raising an eyebrow at the werewolf, who mouthed “Pacifier and honey” to him. The house-elf nodded, swiftly returning with the requested items and handing them to Fenrir before disappearing without saying a word.

Fenrir had just gotten Teddy to quiet down when the fireplace roared to life again and Hermione stepped through.

“Harry, please – we have to talk. Be reasonable,” she started, then stopped as she caught sight of the werewolf in the chair, baby resting on his shoulder. “I’m, I’m sorry – I didn’t see you there . . .” she stammered.

Fenrir looked from one to the other. “The row – it was about me, wasn’t it? Me looking after the baby.”

Harry nodded.

“Maybe I should leave now,” Fenrir said quietly, getting up.

“No,” Harry said. “Stay.” He turned to Hermione and said, “I want him to stay. He’s good for the baby. And he’s good for me.”

Hermione looked at the two wizards as the firelight played on their faces. “I, I don’t know what to say . . .” she began, “but please Harry, you have to understand how the family feels – especially after what happened to Bill . . .”

Harry looked at the floor, then at the fire, then at Fenrir, who had settled back down in the chair with the now-sleeping Teddy on his chest. He walked over to the chair and picked up the fallen photo of Remus and Nymphadora. He looked at Fenrir, who looked away. Harry replaced the picture on the mantelpiece, running a finger lightly over the photo as Remus gave Nymphadora a squeeze and she waved to Harry with the big bright smile he remembered so well.

He turned to Hermione again and said, “I know how they feel – if I didn’t know before, I certainly do now, after tonight.” He moved around to the back of the chair where Fenrir sat. “This man, this werewolf, he’s good for me. He’s good for the baby. I know he’s done bad things – terrible things – but that isn’t all he is, a monster to frighten folks with, a bogeyman out of a child’s nightmare. Sirius once told me that the world isn’t divided into Good People and Death Eaters, that there’s good and bad in all of us. And I’ve seen the good in Fenrir Greyback.”

Fenrir closed his eyes and hung his head.

Harry bent down and circled Fenrir in his arms from behind the chairback. “I love this man – exactly as he is, with all his faults and all his failings. And I want him in my life. If the Weasleys have a problem with that, so be it.” He bent his head and kissed Greyback’s hair.

Hermione looked at them, Harry and Fenrir and Teddy, illuminated in the firelight and the fairylight from the tree. “I don’t understand you, Harry. I wish I did, but I don’t. I don’t understand how you can say that about someone who willfully attacks children – who prefers them even. I don’t understand.”

Harry looked up at her, arms still around Fenrir, and said quietly, “You haven’t lived with him.”

Hermione sat in a chair opposite from them and said, “No, I haven’t. I remember the Manor and how he looked at me, how he wanted me – and all I can feel is how terrified I was of what he would do to me.”

Very quietly, Fenrir said, “I wouldn’t have hurt you.”

“Maybe not – but you stood by and watched as others hurt me, made me scream. You watched – and you did nothing.”

“You weren’t mine then – only a promise. A tentative one, one that could be snatched away. A will o’ the wisp, never to be caught and held in my arms,” Fenrir said softly. “Not mine to hold, to cherish – to love.”

Hermione looked at Harry, still nuzzling Fenrir’s hair, and said, “Harry, you say you love him – and he says he wanted me. Why are you doing this, why?”

Harry looked at her, chin on Fenrir’s head, and replied, “I can love a woman and I can love a man – the love of one doesn’t diminish the love for the other. And Fenrir loves me too, in his own way, even if he is pants about expressing it.”

“Cheeky brat,” Fenrir murmured, turning his head towards Harry. “You’ll be finding a rod in your stocking come morning, mark my words!”

“Ooooo – is that a promise?” Harry said with a laugh. “Come on now, Hermione, don’t look so glum. You’ve still got Ron, and now you have a wolf mooning over you too, even though it’s pretty hopeless, since you’re taken. More for me then,” he said, giving Fenrir another kiss as the older wizard smiled up at him.

Hermione looked at the fire.

“Hermione . . .” Harry began, seeing her face, “is something the matter?”

“Ron, Ron and I . . . after you left, well, the row . . .” Hermione said, tears welling in her eyes. “We, we had a, a . . . disagreement . . . about . . .”

“I see,” Harry said quietly, straightening up. “I have a feeling I’m not the only one no longer welcome at the Burrow.”

Hermione started to sob and Harry went to her, pulling her from the chair and into his arms. “He, he . . .” she sniffled, “he was just . . . just beastly. We’ve had fights before . . . but this . . . he was just so horrid . . .”

“Yeah, well – Ginny and Molly were pretty harsh too, if you remember,” Harry said, grim-faced. “After some of what was said, I’m not really sure I want to be around them.”

“Same here,” Hermione sniffled into Harry’s robe. She looked up at his face and gave him a wan smile, “Thanks. You’re a brick, really you are.” She gave him a squeeze then looked at his robe. “I’m afraid I’ve spoiled your nice new robe.”

Harry looked down. “Nah – no worse than Teddy spitting up. Kreacher’s brilliant at cleaning that up – shouldn’t be a problem for him to fix that right up.” He gave her a squeeze. “Chin up! Musn’t let Father Christmas see you with red eyes!”

Hermione gave him a weak smile as he searched in his pocket for a handkerchief. “Blow,” he ordered, holding it to her nose. She gave a loud honk, and let him dry her tears with the square of cloth. He led her to the couch and sat down beside her, arm around her shoulders.

“I’m afraid I left your present at the Burrow,” Hermione said, looking up at Harry.

“Same here,” Harry said ruefully. “However,” he continued, “there are presents here for a certain werewolf and cub . . .”

“I think the cub will be opening his in the morning,” Fenrir said, looking down at the babe sleeping on his chest. “I’ll be back in a few, after putting him in his crib.”

Harry and Hermione sat quietly looking at the fire, hands entwined, while Fenrir put the child to bed. He returned and watched them in silence from the doorway for a moment before going over and offering them some of the cookies from the plate that had been by his chair. “Bit burnt, but still good,” he rumbled.

Hermione watched as Fenrir looked under the tree, her head still on Harry’s shoulder as she ate a cookie. He pulled out three boxes, all wrapped in paper with stars that twinkled in different colors.

“I really wasn’t expecting anything, Harry,” Fenrir said. “I don’t really have anything for you, just this.” He pulled a small envelope from on top of a wrapped box and handed it to Harry.

Harry opened it and read the note inside. “Thank you – thank you very much. I really appreciate it and I know how hard it was to give me this.”

Hermione picked up her head, curious. “What does it say?” she asked.

After a nod from Fenrir, Harry read aloud, “I promise to do my best to stop smoking. You won’t have to lick ashtrays anymore.” At her puzzled expression, he explained, “I told him kissing him was like licking an ashtray, because of the tobacco taste in his mouth.” Hermione nodded, then put her head back on Harry’s shoulder.

“Your turn now – open them up!” Harry said cheerfully.

Fenrir raised an eyebrow. “You’re awfully eager, pup.”

“Well, half the fun for me is seeing you open up the presents. Hope you like them. Hermione here helped me with the shopping,” he said, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

“Did she now? I’m sure I’ll like it then,” Fenrir said with a smile. He picked up the first package and began to carefully undo the paper, bit by bit.

“Why don’t you just rip it off?” Hermione asked.

“He wants to save the paper for next year, I’ll bet,” Harry said.

“Right in one, pup,” Fenrir said, as he pulled out a box, then carefully folded up the wrapping paper. He opened it and pulled out a set of black boots. “Very nice, very nice indeed, Harry – thank you!”

“They have a built-in warming charm, for winter,” Harry piped up, smiling.

“Very considerate of you, Harry,” Fenrir said, folding the paper from the second present and laying it on the side table next to the empty glass of milk. “And this looks grand!” he said, grinning as he pulled out a black leather motorcycle jacket.

“Zipped quilted lining on that, so you can wear it summer or winter,” Harry said. “Charmed too, just like the boots.”

“So very thoughtful – thank you so much!”

Fenrir opened the last box and pulled out what looked like a black skirt and looked at Harry quizzically.

“Hermione’s idea,” Harry said.

“It’s a utilikilt,” Hermione explained. “They’re popular with Muggle men now – very fashionable. You can wear it when going about Muggle London and no one will think it at all odd – although a few folks might ask what part of Scotland you’re from. And works fine for wizarding areas too, of course. Very practical,” she said firmly.

“And you’re not expected to wear smalls while wearing a kilt,” Harry chimed in. “It’s traditional not to – just like with wizarding robes.”

“I see,” Fenrir said, smiling.

“Put them on, I want to see how they look on you. I got them to be worn as a set,” Harry said.

“You like the leather daddy look I take it – or Hermione does . . .” Fenrir said with a wink. Hermione and Harry both turned pink.

Fenrir got up and undid the sash of his dressing gown, turning to put it on the back of the chair. The firelight made the hair on his chest and belly glow as he slowly put on the boots, then the kilt and finally the jacket. Hermione and Harry watched, entranced by the play of light on his bare skin as every muscle was highlighted as the werewolf dressed in his new finery.

“Wow,” Harry breathed. Hermione nodded in agreement as she turned a bright red.

Fenrir leaned against the wall and asked, “Who wants to be eaten by the Big Bad Wolf?” He flashed his teeth at the duo on the divan and waggled his eyebrows at them as they gulped in unison. He silently pointed to the mistletoe above his head and beckoned to them with his finger as a wicked grin spread across his face.

Harry rose and came over, slipping a hand inside the jacket to caress Fenrir’s back as the werewolf tipped his chin up with his finger and claimed his mouth.

Fenrir watched Hermione sitting there, looking at the two of them like a child at a sweetshop window, and crooked a finger at her. “Come here, little girlie. There’s enough of me to share, isn’t there Harry?”

Harry nodded, resting his head on the werewolf’s furry chest. “It’s fine with me, Hermione,” he said, holding out his hand to her. “Come – join us.”

Hermione looked from one to the other, hesitant. Biting her lip, she got up and slowly walked over to them. Harry drew her into his embrace as Fenrir slowly bent his head to capture her lips in a gentle kiss. Harry nuzzled her neck then stole a kiss. She closed her eyes and returned the kiss, then shyly turned her face to Fenrir. He smiled as he kissed her again, more firmly, parting her lips with his tongue, then caressing her mouth with it as her teeth drew apart and her hand joined Harry’s in caressing the bare skin of his back. The werewolf closed his eyes as her tongue claimed his mouth, breathing a contented sigh as Harry’s tongue joined hers and the three of them sunk to the rug in front of the fire as Glenda Chittock announced the start of the WWN’s Yule Log.
Tags: canon-compliant, fenrir, fic, gen, harry, hermione, house-elf, potterverse, threesome
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