Title: Von Märchen, or On Fairytales
Summary: At the age of five, the moon begins to pull on Teddy’s senses and he comes to despise his godfather’s girlfriend, dreaming that one day their lives will turn out like a fairytale. EWE. Harry/Teddy.
Warnings: Prejudice, Status of Creature Rights, Chan (due to creature status), Mild Blood Play (the biting of a mate)
- Den lille havfrue (The Little Mermaid)
- La Belle au Bois dormant (The Beauty Sleeping in the Wood, or Sleeping Beauty)
- Lebedinoye Ozero (Swan Lake)
- Sir Gawain and the Grene Knight (Sir Gawain and the Green Knight)
- Turandokht (The Daughter of Turan, or Turandot)
- La belle et la bête (The Beauty and the Beast)
- De vilde svaner (The Wild Swans)
- Les Wilis (The Wilis, or Giselle)
- Den Standhaftige Tinsoldat (The Steadfast Tin Soldier)
- 11. L’Oiseau de feu (The Firebird)
- 12. Layla wa Majnun (A Tale of Star-crossed Lovers)
13. Die zertanzten Schuhe (The Shoes that Were Danced to Pieces)
14. L’après-midi d’un faune (The Afternoon of a Faun)
… Den lille havfrue …
Teddy smiled to himself as his Prongslet entered his room that night, a large book of fairytales in his hand.
“Still awake, Moonlet?” he teased softly and Teddy nodded enthusiastically.
“You promised me a story,” he whined, wiggling down deeper into the sheets.
“That I did,” Prongslet laughed before settling down on the bed beside his godson.
Teddy sighed in contentment and snuggled into his Prongslet’s warmth. “Why did you take so long? I was worried.”
“I had to stay a little longer at the Weasleys,” he explained with a sigh, looking out the window at the full moon.
Teddy huffed. “It’s already half past eight!”
His Prongslet laughed at Teddy’s petulance. “I thought you were ‘a big boy’ now.”
“Am so. I’m five and three quarters!” Teddy declared.
“That you are,” He replied, kissing his turquoise colored hair gently. “I love you, Moonlet.”
“More than you do her?” Teddy crossed his arms and looked up with soulful blue eyes at his Prongslet. He didn’t like Ginny. He knew he should. His Prongslet liked her even though she wasn’t a Marauder like they were, or as fun as her brother George or Victoire’s dad.
His Prongslet looked at him suspiciously before lowering his eyes to the storybook. “Yes, Teddy,” he said truthfully, “I love you more than I could ever love her.” He quirked his head slightly in thought before tapping Teddy on the nose. “You’re my Moonlet,” he stated as if that explained everything.
“And you’re my Prongslet!”
He laughed quietly before leaning back against the pillows. “Indeed I am. Your Prongslet.”
“Only my Prongslet,” Teddy demanded with a childlike exuberance.
“You don’t want to share me with anyone else?”
Teddy shook his head vehemently. “No. Never.”
“Well, then, now that we have that sorted,” Prongslet laughed before opening up the book.
Teddy curled his small hand in his godfather’s larger one, tracing the rough patches from years of Quidditch and his Auror training.
“Tonight I’ll be reading the story of The Little Mermaid—the real one, not the Disney version,” he laughed.
“What is this Disney?” Teddy asked, looking up.
“A Muggle corporation. They changed the ending to make it—happy. I think it loses its poignancy.”
“Poignancy,” he corrected lightly, kissing Teddy’s head again.
He sighed happily and rubbed his head against Prongslet’s arm before snuggling deeper into the warmth of his deep blue covers. “Poignancy,” he mumbled.
“Now. Are you ready for your story?”
Teddy nodded and looked over happily as his Prongslet opened to the first page. His breath caught in his throat and he quickly forced the cover shut. “No. I don’t want that story,” he stated emphatically.
He fidgeted. “Moonlet,” he whispered. “I thought you wanted a story.”
“I do.” He nodded for emphasis. “Just not that one.”
“What’s wrong with this one?” He held it up but Teddy wouldn’t even look at it. “It’s one of my favorites. It’s about a mermaid who wants a soul and needs to make a human fall in love with her to gain one.”
Teddy bit his lip. “Not that one. Please.”
Prongslet reached forward and ran his hand lovingly through Teddy’s hair. Teddy couldn’t help but sigh at the touch and leaned into it, his eyelids fluttering closed.
“She has red hair,” he said quietly, his eyes still closed.
He looked down at Teddy, confused.
“Teddy—“ The boy flinched. “Moonlet. What’s wrong with red hair? The Weasleys all have red hair, your best friend Victoire does as well. What’s wrong, Moonlet?”
Tears began welling at the corner of Teddy’s eyes and he swiped at his eyes, his head still looking away from his Prongslet.
“Don’t cry, Moonlet,” Prongslet begged, pulling the now crying child in his arms. “I won’t read it to you if you don’t want, but I won’t know what’s wrong unless you tell me.”
“I want to be your Moonlet forever and ever,” he confessed quietly, his face snuggled against his Prongslet’s neck, his small arms clasped around his shoulders. He felt so safe, so loved in his warm embrace. Teddy never wanted to leave it and he hated it when he saw anyone else in his Prongslet’s arms.
“You are my Moonlet,” he soothed as he traced circles on Teddy’s back. “Don’t ever doubt it. I will always love you.”
“I know,” was the weak and tired response.
“Then what’s wrong?”
Silence stretched between them and Prongslet continued to rub Teddy’s back, listening intently as the boy’s sobs began to space themselves out and he finally fell quiet. He thought Teddy had fallen asleep, his breathing was so even, when he finally spoke in a small voice.
“I don’t like her,” he finally confessed.
“Ginny. Your girlfriend.” He snuggled closer. “She takes you away from me—she wants to take you away from me even more. I’ve heard her talk to Hermy.”
Teddy nodded tiredly and his eyes fell closed again.
Prongslet shifted slightly and grasping his wand, whispered “Nox” so that only a fairy light in the corner of the room was shining in his godson’s bedroom.
“She said so many things,” Teddy continued to whisper into the dark, his grasp on his godfather tightening as he began to drift off slightly. “I didn’t understand, but I didn’t like it.”
“Shh, Moonlet. Go to sleep.”
“No,” Teddy mumbled tiredly. “Goblins will take you away.”
Prongslet laughed and tapped Teddy’s nose lightly. “Silly. Goblins don’t kidnap grown wizards. They stay in their bank.”
“Victoire said. . . .”
“Of course, if Victoire said.” He smiled down at a sleepy Teddy.
He continued to stroke his hand through Teddy’s turquoise hair, marveling at how much the boy looked like his parents.
“My Moonlet,” he murmured, placing a soft kiss on Teddy’s cheek.
The small boy murmured in his sleep, his hand slipping down to Prongslet’s wrist before tightening on it possessively even in his almost sleep. “I’m sorry, Prongslet. Never want to make you sad,” he whispered before surrendering fully to unconsciousness.
“Silly, Moonlet,” he murmured affectionately, placing one final kiss on Teddy’s head. “You can only make me happy.”
… La Belle au Bois dormant …
Teddy sat in the living room of the Burrow, entranced, as he stared at the pictures of the newest fairytale his Prongslet had given him. The princess was so beautiful, with flowing red-gold hair and rosebud lips.
He scrunched up his nose in concentration and his black, messy hair turned golden red with gentle waves, his black eyes focusing into a rosy color that would appear unnatural on anyone but him.
Laughter floated through the room and he looked up, his eyes narrowed as he looked toward the kitchen.
“Sweetheart,” he heard Ginny say. “You know you want to.”
“Gin,” his Prongslet’s rich baritone said softly in return. The voice wafted through the room, along with a scent that was decidedly his Prongslet.
He didn’t know why but his godfather’s scent always soothed him and somehow called to him. It was exhilarating when they were close and could just as easily lull him to sleep more than a fairytale bedtime story, though he would never dream of telling his Prongslet that. He loved his bedtime stories. Teddy just hoped that his Prongslet would never stop telling them to him, even when he was as old as the Weasley cousin, Mafalda Prewitt!
“Not here,” Prongslet stated firmly, bringing Teddy out of this thoughts.
“Harry, darling,” Ginny whined, but Harry didn’t answer.
Teddy heard her puff.
“It’s been months!” she complained. “Don’t you want to be together? Have the family you’ve always wanted?”
Teddy stiffened, his rose-colored glass eyes narrowing again, and he growled low in his chest.
“I have a family,” Harry replied, his tone clipped and simmered with anger.
She sighed. “Of course you do, Harry. We are your family, of course.”
Teddy’s eyes began to brim with tears again and he looked away from the kitchen, glancing at the beautiful picture book in his hands. He lightly traced the picture of the sleeping princess, alone in the dark and shadowy woods, waiting for someone to find her and kiss her awake.
He wished his Prongslet would kiss him sometimes like that. . . .
Sometimes when the moon was full he would feel—things—he couldn’t quite understand. Harry’s scent drove him nearly to distraction, when it glowed in the sky, but he was too afraid to tell anyone. He would always want Harry to hold him, to use his large, warm hands to stroke through his hair, to tell him he loved him and only him.
He hated Ginny the most at those times.
Strangely, he also craved venison stew as well.
His Grams thought it was adorable and said he was just like his father.
Teddy didn’t really know what that meant, and he was too afraid to ask. Anything having to do with the moon frightened him.
“That’s not what I meant.” His Prongslet’s voice swam over his senses, lulling him back into a sense of contentment.
“Then what do you mean, Harry? You can’t possibly mean the Dursleys,” Ginny scoffed.
“Of course not, though they are technically family. Maybe I should have Teddy meet Dudley’s child once he gets older. Family is important.” He sighed, possibly lost in thought. “Full moon again.”
Teddy bit his lip and fidgeted a bit. He began to flip through the pages of the book and looked closely at the illustrations of the thorns that wove around the sleeping girl’s bed. He wished he could just go home and his Prongslet could read him a story, but Grams was talking to Mrs. Weasley.
“Harry, I’m talking to you.”
A sigh. “I know, Gin. I’m listening.”
“No, you’re not. Don’t you want what my parents have? What Ron and Hermione have?”
Teddy continued to flip through the pages as he heard footsteps moving around the kitchen. As he turned to the next page he gasped and almost dropped the book. There, on the page, was a handsome prince with windswept black hair and sparkling green eyes, making his way toward the sleeping girl.
He smiled slightly to himself. His Prongslet was a prince and he looked just like the princess. He traced the lines of the drawing, imagining it was his godfather and wondered if he were asleep and trapped in a forest of dark woods and thorns if his Prongslet would come for him and kiss him awake, like the prince did to the sleeping girl in the next page.
“Prongslet,” he murmured, happily to himself.
“Prongslet,” a voice cooed that wasn’t his.
His head snapped up and he quickly set the book aside and rushed to the kitchen, pushing the door open.
“Don’t you want to get married and have your own children?”
His Prongslet was leaning against the kitchen table, his hands clasping the edge tightly in anger, Ginny leaning forward with her hands in his hair and her lips too close to his Prongslet.
“Don’t call him that,” Teddy snapped angrily before rushing forward and pulling at her Muggle jeans rather harshly. “Don’t ever call him that!”
She turned around to him and her eyes softened in a way that he always distrusted. “Teddy. I thought you were reading the new book Harry had gotten for you.”
“Gin,” Prongslet sighed, taking hold of her wrists and removing her hands from his hair. “You alright, Moonlet?”
He shook his head and tried to will his tears away from his eyes. “She called you ‘Prongslet.’ You’re my Prongslet, only mine. We’re the Marauders—not her.”
“Moons,” his godfather sighed as he pushed Ginny away.
She glared at him, but moved away, huffing to herself.
“Of course, Moonlet,” he soothed. “She won’t call me that ever again.” He brushed the tears away from Teddy’s eyes and gasped when he saw his rose colored gaze. “Your eyes…”
Teddy looked up at him questioningly. “I wanted to look like the pretty sleeping princess in the story,” he explained. “Do you think I’m pretty like her?”
“Boys aren’t pretty,” Ginny said petulantly as she began to attack a pile of her mother’s cookies. “Really, Harry, you spoil him too much.”
Prongslet, however, ignored her completely. “Very pretty. A handsome prince, Teddy.”
He nodded happily before reaching up and threading his small fingers in his Prongslet’s hair. “Princess. You look like the prince in the picture but your eyes are brighter.”
He smiled happily. “Really?”
“Yes.” Teddy leaned forward and rested his forehead against his godfather’s and smiled slightly.
“I guess I made a good choice then, though maybe next time you can be the prince and I’ll be the princess. Would you rescue me, Moonlet?”
“Harry,” Ginny wheedled. “This really is too much. He’s going to grow up thinking he’s a girl—or that you’re a girl.”
Teddy flinched at her harsh words, although her voice was meant to be gentle.
“Don’t, Ginny. Just don’t. He can be whatever he wants to be—including a princess.”
“You’re ruining him. I hope you won’t act this way with our children.”
Teddy flinched again, but Harry pulled him into a hug and kissed his head softly.
“Why don’t you go find your Grams?” he whispered into his ear. “I’ll be there soon and then I’ll take you home?”
He shook his head. “No,” he murmured. “Want to stay. With you.”
Sighing, his godfather didn’t answer, but instead turned to Ginny. “Do not question my abilities at being a godfather—or a parent.”
Ginny opened her mouth to respond, but he cut her off.
“You are not Teddy’s godmother and only a distant relative of his. You are not my wife, my fiancée, or as far as I’m concerned at this moment, my girlfriend.”
“Harry, don’t say that—“ she said, stepping forward.
“How can you be so unfeeling to a child? To my godson? To the only person I consider my true family?”
Ginny glanced away, shoving her hands in her pockets.
“I thought so,” he whispered, his voice betraying nothing but firmness, before he swept Teddy into his arms.
When his Prongslet leaned in to kiss his forehead before Teddy went to sleep, he pulled him down and kissed his godfather’s lips slightly. “Night, Prongslet,” he murmured, not seeing the confused and dazed expression on his Prongslet’s face.
… Lebedinoye Ozero …
Teddy looked at himself appraisingly in the mirror, his black dress robes hugging his nine-year-old frame before they billowed outward. His Prongslet would be here soon, he reminded himself, as he stared at his eyes, changing the color every minute or so, trying to decide on a color.
He didn’t know what his Prongslet would like. He had asked him once, on his eighth birthday, but he had only laughed and told him whatever he wanted.
Casting his gaze about the room, he searched for inspiration before focusing on his family altar. There were several pictures of his parents, most of them from when they were both young and at Hogwarts. They didn’t even have a proper wedding portrait. A few of him with his grandmother were scattered between them and the one of his Prongslet when he graduated from Auror training was right in the middle.
He smiled, his eyes resting on the moving picture. Prongslet was in his full Auror robes, grinning happily at the camera, a laughing Teddy in his arms, all deep purple hair and shining green eyes. It was perfect.
There was one other picture, however. His Grams had been hurt when she saw it, but he couldn’t help but keep it. He had cut it from The Daily Prophet a few weeks before and had traced the figures in it reverently, wondering what they were like.
A smiling family looked up at him. A wizard with platinum blonde hair and pointed, aristocratic features stood beside his pretty wife, who was holding a toddler in her arms, all chubby cheeks and light blond hair and silver-grey eyes.
He nodded to himself and turned back to the mirror, his hair becoming the same blond and his eyes morphing from a deep chocolate brown to silver-grey.
A knock sounded at the door and he jumped, startled, before rushing over and throwing it open. A smiling Prongslet was on the other side, his hair nearly flat and his bright eyes shining behind rectangular black frames.
“Moonlet,” he greeted, setting his two wrapped packages aside hastily before sweeping his godson into an embrace. “Are you ready for the ordeal?” he whispered conspiratorially and Teddy just laughed.
“Yes. How do I look?” He bit his lip nervously and Prongslet set him down before taking a step back and looking at him appraisingly.
“Which fairy princess or prince are you today?” he laughed before leaning down and kissing Teddy’s forehead, but Teddy pulled his hair until he could reach up and peck his Prongslet on the lips.
His godfather blushed slightly but said nothing, straightening up.
“I’m neither today,” he informed Prongslet before leading him over to his family altar and pointing at the newspaper clipping. “I wanted to look like my cousin.”
His Prongslet stared at it before smiling sadly.
“You indeed look like young Scorpius,” he assured him before running his hand through thin blond hair. “I also think you are more handsome than your cousin Draco ever was.”
“You knew him, right?”
He nodded. “Yes. He was the first wizard child I ever met. We never got on in school, however.” His voice trailed off as he stared at the moving photograph before he snapped out of his thoughts. “Would you like your present now or later?”
“Present?” Teddy asked curiously. “I thought we give the bride and groom a present.”
“We do,” his Prongslet agreed. “However, as you informed me quite forcefully that I had to look handsome enough to be your date so you could make everyone including the bride jealous—“ Teddy blushed, but said nothing “—I thought I would do it right and bring you a corsage of sorts.”
He turned and picked up the smaller of the two packages, which looked suspiciously like a book, and held it toward Teddy. It was wrapped in a dark blue paper with silver trim, his favorite colors, and he beamed up at his godfather. “Thank you,” he whispered before turning and sitting on the bed, tracing the pretty gift wrap.
“You can open it, you know,” Prongslet murmured as he sat down next to him.
“Will you read it to me tonight?” He asked hopefully.
Teddy nodded and with one last look, tore off the paper in glee to reveal a large picture book with a beautiful watercolor on the cover. “The Swan Lake,” he read reverently before glancing up at his godfather. “What are the pretty girls on the cover?”
“Ballerinas,” he explained. “They are Muggles who tell stories through dance. This one was a very famous Russian ballet and it tells a story of true love and enchantment.”
“Does it have a sad ending?” he questioned, chewing his lip. “Most of the fairytales have sad endings.”
“Yes and no, Moonlet,” Prongslet replied. “Fairytales, like real life, have both the good and the bad, but true love wins out in the end.”
“Then it can’t be bad, can it?”
He smiled sadly before tapping Teddy on the nose like he had done so many times before. “I suppose not. You’ll see tonight, little werewolf.”
He nodded before he looked over curiously at the other package. “What did we get them?” he whispered conspiratorially.
“A wizard radio that automatically switches to whatever channel has a live Quidditch game on—even when you don’t want it to.”
Teddy laughed. “What’s his name will love that. What is his name again?”
“Roger Davies,” he repeated. “Never really met him. Saw him a few times, but he just ruffles my hair before talking to Fleur or Ginny again.”
“Well, he’s been Ginny’s beau for two years now and she finally said she would marry him.” He bit back a laugh at the memory. “He cornered her at the Burrow in front of a bunch of us and went down on one knee.”
Teddy glanced away before looking up at his godfather through his blond fringe. “You’re not angry at me, Prongslet, are you?” He leaned forward and nuzzled his Prongslet’s shoulder in affect, wanting to mark him with his scent some how. At least now it would be on his robes for as long as the wedding lasted unless some witch with heavy perfume tried to dance with him. He growled slightly at the thought of it.
No one would be dancing with his date but him—even if he had to scare them all off by pretending he was infected with lycanthropy.
A large arm wrapped around him and pulled him closer, and Teddy nuzzled the exposed neck above the collar of his godfather’s dress robes. He was in heaven in that small moment.
“No, Moons. Never angry at you—only at her for thinking that you were unimportant.”
Teddy bit his lip, fighting the urge to nip at his Prongslet’s neck. He felt the urge to bite it, but he fought it.
Hopefully Ginny would want to flaunt her Muggle-born husband’s money a bit and would have some kind of red meat at the reception. That would stop the pulling, the need, he felt around his Prongslet.
“Love you, Prongslet,” he murmured instead. “Love you so much.”
… Sir Gawain and the Grene Knight ….
Teddy realized this was nothing like a legendary quest that King Arthur’s knights went on, and decided if all such adventures were so boring, he would simply have to spend his time planning how he could convince his Prongslet, his mate, to actually mate with him.
His Gram, in honor of his leaving for Hogwarts in less than a week, had given him a book on werewolves and their customs, saying that although he was not infected, it was nonetheless his heritage.
Once he had finished the book he had snorted to himself. He might not transform with the moon, but lycanthropy was definitely in his blood, and now he knew why he felt the way he did every full moon, and why his young body shivered whenever his Prongslet was near.
Now he just had to figure out how to tell him.
Getting past the wards had been surprisingly simple. He was a Black after all and a pureblood as all four of his grandparents had been magical, although his paternal grandmother had been a squib. Her blood was still pure, however, which triggered the wards to Malfoy Manor.
He was a member of the family, after all.
It had been surprisingly easy to get to Wiltshire. He already had his wand from Diagon Alley—his Prongslet had taken him and had smiled proudly when yellow and blue sparks had shot out of the tip of a mahogany wand with a unicorn hair core—so it was only a matter of sneaking out of the house, once his Gram thought he was asleep, and summoning the Knight Bus.
He crept toward the Manor and skirted around the edge of the property until he came to a veranda, light shining through a large window where the family was gathered. Teddy could see Draco Malfoy on the floor reading to his son from what looked like The Tales of Beedle the Bard, a house elf in the corner in case it was needed.
Scorpius was entranced and he stared happily at the pictures his father was pointing out, clapping his hands in delight when Draco swept down and kissed him soundly on the forehead.
The scene almost reminded him of himself and his godfather when he was small. Gram had told him that he had often altered his hair color to match his Prongslet, which pleased him, but he didn’t like to think of his Prongslet as his father.
He shuddered. It was wrong. Prongslet was his, yes, and only his—but not like that.
Inching closer, the edge of his robe caught on something and he tripped forward slightly, his hands slamming against the glass and he looked up to stare into angry grey eyes.
He paled substantially but held the glare steadily as he watched Draco snap out of shock and order the house elf to take Scorpius and just go.
Teddy didn’t try to run. He knew it was pointless. He might be able to change his physical appearance, but he couldn’t run very far or do much magic, and he knew that Draco would probably raise the wards to trap him so he could interrogate him or worse—call the Aurors. Then his Prongslet would know and through him, his Gram.
He gulped and disentangled his robe, pulling it closer, and in his fear, turned his hair into a deep blood red, his eyes shining gold.
The door slid open and a wand was pointed at him. “Your wand, young man,” his cousin Draco warned and he pulled it out of his pocket and handed it over.
“Please don’t hurt it. I only got it last week,” he begged quietly and Draco’s eyes widened before nodding.
“What are you doing in my home and how did you get past the wards?”
“I—“ he hesitated and looked up into silver eyes. He couldn’t see anything of his Gram in this man, so he looked away. “I wanted to see my cousin—just once. I’ll have graduated by the time he goes to Hogwarts.”
“Scorpius.” Gold eyes met silver. “We’re the last Blacks.”
Draco sighed and lowered his wand slightly. “You’re Teddy Lupin, aren’t you?”
Teddy nodded. “I’m a pureblood. Honest!”
He chuckled at his little cousin’s enthusiasm. “I know, Teddy.” He put both their wands in his pocket and motioned him inside. “Now, let me call your grandmother so you can get back home.”
Teddy shook his head violently and pulled on Draco’s sleeve. “Not Gram. She doesn’t like her sister very much.”
“No, I expect not.” Draco sighed as he led him from the room and into the main foyer where a stately woman was passing through, a glass of milk in her hand. “Speak of the devil.”
“Draco,” she said and paused, her eyes glancing down at Teddy before flicking back up again. “Astoria told me Scorpius was crying.”
“I’ll be right there. We had an unexpected house guest, and I just need to send him home.”
“Don’t call Gram. She knows. She always knows.”
“Who is this young man?” the woman question.
“Teddy Lupin. He wanted to see Scorpius before he went off to Hogwarts. Teddy, your great-aunt, Narcissa Malfoy.”
Mrs. Malfoy visibly started before a slight smile played on her lips. “A pleasure to meet you, Teddy. We should really call Dromeda. She’ll be worried. I know I would be if I found Scorpius’s bed empty.”
“Not Gram. Please, call Prongslet instead,” Teddy pleaded again.
“Prongslet?” Draco asked.
“My godfather—Prongslet. We’re the last of the Marauders.”
Draco looked confused for a moment before recognition lit up his silver eyes. “Ah, Potter. Is he even connected to the Floo?”
Teddy nodded emphatically. “I call him all the time when I’m not supposed to. Gram said I have to respect his privacy,” he scoffed, making Mrs. Malfoy smile slightly.
The two Malfoys exchanged meaningful glances that Teddy couldn’t understand before Draco Floo-called Grimmauld Place. Less than three minutes later, a hastily put together Prongslet fell out of the fireplace and Teddy found himself quickly encased in a crushing hug.
“Moonlet,” he whispered into Teddy’s blood-red hair. “What were you thinking?”
Teddy nuzzled into his mate’s warmth, taking in the scent that drove his young mind to insanity while simultaneously soothing him. He wanted to claw at the bare skin of his Prongslet’s collarbone, to mark it, to bite, to taste his blood, to lick.
He shivered at the overwhelming instincts that coursed through him but bit them back.
This was his Prongslet—his godfather—and he wouldn’t scare him. Not yet. Not when everything was perfect how it was. And Teddy knew he wasn’t ready yet.
He pulled back and kissed his Prongslet lightly on the lips, not even blushing at the familiar action. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I just wanted to see my little cousin. Our family is so small.” Our pack…
“Moons,” he sighed, carding his fingers familiarly through Teddy’s hair. “You have me and Gram.”
“I know. I just wanted a little brother, too. Just for a little while.”
“I see,” he sighed before uncharacteristically nuzzling his nose. “Tell us next time so we can send an invitation and not frighten your little cousin or your-er-uncle.” He glanced at Draco who nodded his head in assent.
“What about Gram?”
“Never mind Gram. I’ll take care of her,” he promised. “And Malfoy said you could see Scorpius if you wanted over Chris—Yule break.”
Teddy turned to Draco and smiled brightly. “Really?”
“Really, really,” Prongslet promised him.
“Can I stay with you tonight?” Teddy asked, turning back to his godfather.
He sighed. “Of course. I’ll tell your Gram you snuck through the Floo again.”
Teddy leaned forward and nipped his ear slightly, causing Draco and Mrs. Malfoy’s eyes to widened and Harry’s nose to scrunch up slightly in confusion.
He was happy, he was safe, he would get to see Scorpius again, and Teddy was home in his mate’s arms.
… Turandokht …
Sparks and ash swirled around him and with a thud, Teddy landed gracefully as he fell out of the fireplace, crouching much like a wolf would. “Moonlet,” a gruff voice sighed and he looked up, smiling, at his Prongslet. “It seems you did not inherit your mum’s clumsiness.”
Prongslet looked Teddy over and his eyes narrowed slightly as Teddy smoothly slid out of his lupine crouch, bringing him up to his full height.
“You’ve grown,” his Prongslet commented, ruffling his white hair. “Have you been playing Quidditch?” Again the eyes narrowed.
Teddy shook his head. “No. Why?”
“You’ve put on some muscle, that’s all.”
“Don’t you like it?” Teddy asked worriedly, leaning up and nuzzling his nose against his Prongslet’s in a sign of affection. He gently kissed the soft pink lips in front of him, breathing in deeply as the scent of his mate sent shivers of want and need down his spine.
A throat cleared somewhere to their right and Teddy turned, his eyes narrowing viciously at the pretty blonde standing there. “You must be Teddy,” she said, bending down and holding out her hand. “I’ve so looked forward to meeting you.”
Teddy turned to his Prongslet, his eyes asking a question.
“This is Hannah, Teddy. She’s a friend from school.”
A low growl escaped Teddy’s throat and his Prongslet chuckled. “She’s a friend of Ginny’s,” he explained as he crouched down, his hand ruffling Teddy’s white hair, causing his violet eyes to light up in happiness.
“Oh. Okay.” He didn’t look at Hannah. Teddy didn’t like her—more specifically, he didn’t like the smell that was coming off of her. It was subtle, masked under her rose flavored perfume, but it was still present. She smelled of heat and summer and bittersweet wetness. His nose scrunched up and he glanced at her, following her gaze to his Prongslet.
He sniffed discreetly and sighed in pleasure. His Prongslet smelled of vanilla and wood smoke. No salt, no heat. He didn’t want this Hannah.
“My godfather is my date,” he informed her pointedly, and her eyes narrowed.
Teddy nodded, entwining his fingers with his Prongslet’s. “We attend all social functions together,” he said importantly.
Prongslet chuckled. “That we do, Moons.”
A scent caught Teddy’s attention and he sniffed the air. “Did you make rabbit stew?”
Ginny waltzed up to the trio and looked expectantly between Hannah and his Prongslet, a question in her eyes.
“You can smell the stew?” Hannah asked, turning to look toward the kitchen where the stew and all of the other dishes were probably set for safekeeping with warming charms on them.
Teddy scoffed at her ignorance. “Of course I can. It’s heavenly.”
His Prongslet stood from his crouching position, his legs shifting slightly as his muscles moved, before standing behind Teddy, his large warm hands on his shoulders. “You have an excellent sense of smell,” he noted, his voice trying to be casual.
“How’s it going?” Ginny inquired, not paying attention to Teddy.
He didn’t care. He didn’t ever pay much attention to her.
Hannah hesitated. “Teddy was just telling me how he is always Harry’s date.” Her green eyes glinted with some emotion that Teddy instinctually recognized, but didn’t want to name.
She laughed, but it sounded hollow to Teddy’s ears. “It’s a childish game they play. Nothing more.”
Teddy growled again before stepping forward, his teeth barred. “It is not a game.”
Ginny looked worriedly down at him, her slightly swollen form shivering, before she glanced at her friend. “Alright, Teddy. It’s not a game,” she placated before turning her gaze on Prongslet, who stood firmly behind him.
He sighed. “Moons, I brought a new book for you, to celebrate you getting sorted into Ravenclaw,” he murmured into his ear and Teddy instantly relaxed.
“A new fairytale?”
“Yes.” He pointed to a package on the mantelpiece that was wrapped in Ravenclaw colors. “It’s a story only for grown up wizards—about a princess who had all of her suitors killed when they cannot answer the three riddles she sets them. Why don’t you see if you can answer the riddles before you’re told the answers.”
Teddy ran his hands up his godfather’s neck, and nuzzled their noses. “My Prongslet,” he murmured, marking his mate gently with his scent.
Worried brown eyes from across the room zeroed in on them, but Teddy didn’t notice.
“You’ll read it to me later?” he whispered, brushing his white hair against Prongslet’s neck.
“Yes. Save the last two pages for then—so I can see if you guessed the riddles and are just as intelligent as your professors tell me you are,” he teased.
“I am first in my class,” Teddy scoffed before stepping away, looking slightly imperious. “I’ll be a prefect and Head Boy. Wait and see.”
His Prongslet grinned down at him. “Go on now,” and with one last look, Teddy rushed to the mantle and took down his present, settling down in an empty chair by the fire.
“What are you thinking?” Ginny hissed, pulling Teddy’s godfather toward the kitchen.
Teddy mentally shook his head. As if that would keep him from hearing the conversation unless the witch bothered to cast a silencing spell, which he doubted.
He grimaced. The Princess had had her suitor executed and his head put on a spike. He definitely would not be showing this to Victoire, Dominique, little Rose or any of the other Weasley children who all looked almost the same with their red hair and freckled skin. Only Fred II and baby Roxie didn’t have it, having inherited the chocolate skin and dark hair from their mother.
“What are you yelling about this time, Ginny?” Prongslet sighed, sounding exasperated. Teddy didn’t blame him. He was glad when his godfather finally broke up with the youngest Weasley—for many reasons, including her temper and harsh judgments about his upbringing.
“I’m not yelling,” she said after taking a deep breath.
Hannah was silent.
Teddy skipped to the riddles.
What is born each night and dies each dawn?
He bit his lip, his slightly sharpened front teeth tearing through his lip.
Bill Weasley, who was making his way toward the kitchen, stopped at the sight, before making a decision and walking over to Teddy.
“Hi there, Teddy,” he said as he bent down.
Teddy looked up, his violet eyes shifting to gold as he looked at the scars that littered Bill’s once handsome face. He considered Bill an uncle—a wolf uncle—although clearly Bill was not a member of his pack. Fenrir Grayback, whose name he was not supposed to know, had attacked both him and his father, making them wolf brothers of a sort.
“Let me see?”
He looked at Bill in confusion.
“Open your mouth—just a bit.”
“Wh-why?” Teddy asked, as he closed his book and held it tightly to him.
“I want to see if you have your father’s teeth, that’s all.”
Blushing in shame, Teddy looked away and continued to chew his lip, tearing it to shreds. He sniffed the air and smelled parchment around his friend’s father, perhaps with a hint of concern.
A large hand tucked his white hair behind his ear, but Teddy flinched away. “You are not allowed to do that,” he growled dangerously, his golden eyes flickering back to Bill. “No one is allowed to touch me but Prongslet.”
“Alright, Teddy. Alright.” He backed away cautiously and took in Teddy’s changed physique. “You’re twelve this April?”
Bill closed his eyes, almost as if he were in pain. “Puberty,” he murmured. “How long have you known, Teddy? You need help.”
“Why?” he asked viciously. “Why do I need help? Nothing’s wrong with me.”
Bill glanced out the window to see the full moon shining down on them, and sighed in relief.
“Of course not—but I understand. I have wolf traits, Teddy. I crave meat this time of the month, I can get rough and possessive, I need to watch my temper. I wish to—mate.”
Teddy’s eyes snapped to Bill’s in shock and worry. “Don’t tell him. Please. He’ll hate me,” he begged, knowing his Pronglset would think him too young. He needed to grow up some more before his Prongslet might want to mate with him, and he desperately took Bill’s large hand in his own small ones. “Please.”
“It’s not normal!” Ginny’s higher-pitched voice filtered to them. “He’s eleven and you let him—do that to you—almost as if you were lovers.”
Bill winced, but ignored his sister’s words. “Of course I won’t. He should never know,” he stated clearly. “Never, Teddy.”
Teddy’s gold eyes hardened into a rose-gold as his emotions shifted. Bill either didn’t notice or didn’t think it important.
“He’s your de facto father—it would kill him. It’s—not right. Harry’s not a wolf, he won’t understand, I don’t fully understand and I was attacked.” Teddy heard the message behind the words. He’s not a born wolf like you. He won’t understand. He’ll hate you. He’ll be disgusted. This disgusts me. “He should know about the rest, however. He deserves to know what he’s dealing with.”
“It’s under control. He doesn’t need to know.” He turned away and opened up the book, staring at the first riddle.
Hope … the answer was hope.
His mouth set in a stern lie. He didn’t care if the dawn killed hope—he was a wolf, a creature of the moon according to legend. The dawn would never come.
“I’m sorry, Teddy,” Bill said and, without touching him, got up and made his way into the kitchen.
“He acts like a goddamn werewolf, if I didn’t know any better,” Ginny said loudly and a few heads turned in the living room, looking first at the door to the kitchen and then back to Teddy, who was now staring avidly at the second riddle.
What flickers red and warm like a flame, but is not fire?
“He acts like he’s in heat—an eleven year old. And you just let him! You’ve been letting him for years, Harry,” Ginny continued before the low baritone interrupted her.
“It’s affection. I don’t care if it’s wolf-like. He’s my family. Don’t be so hateful toward a child who has absolutely no connection to you.”
His tongue flicked out and tasted the blood on his lips. He sighed. Blood. It was warm and red and yet was not fire.
Blood made him like this, and although he was young and confused, he could not find himself angry at fate. He was meant to be like this—a wolf and yet a human, untouched by the moon.
“They can hear you,” Bill put in, and Teddy’s ears twitched. It was low enough so only those closest to the kitchen could hear, which at that moment were Teddy and some witch Teddy didn’t recognize. She must have been dating someone in the large Weasley clan. Not that it mattered much. “And I think Teddy’s inherited some of his father’s—urges. I saw him bite his lip right through with his sharp canines and I think he can smell things more than he should.”
What is like ice, but burns like fire?
The third riddle. A mystery.
“I know,” Prongslet’s tired voice answered. “I’ve been hoping he’d come to me, but he hasn’t yet.”
“You’re not worried?” Hannah finally asked. “He’s eleven and—a wolf.”
“Why should I be worried?” his Prongslet asked, his voice frozen. “He’s my godson and I love and adore him just the way he is.”
He walked out of the kitchen, his form stiff with tension, his eyes burning with a fire Teddy had never seen, and in that moment Teddy knew the answer to the third riddle.
… La belle et la bête …
It was Christmas again and the new moon shone black in the sky, but Teddy’s skin burnt with a fire that licked his insides. Sweat dripped down his temples as he trembled in his bed at his childhood home, and he wished it would just be over.
He’d never felt anything so painful, so wonderful, so fierce. He wanted his Prongslet, desperately, needed him, fur against fur, skin against skin.
His back arched at the images his senses sent him, flickering before his mind like a Muggle moving picture.
“Harry.” The name left his lips, desperate, the first time he had ever spoken it. His Prongslet. His godfather. His. His. His.
His mate. His Harry.
Shivers wracked his body and he bit the inside of his cheek, blood pooling in his mouth and sliding down his throat, burning it, heightening the want, the need.
He just wanted to see his Prongslet, see that he was safe, that he was his and only his. He wanted to mark, bite, lick, kiss—gently, smoothly, lovingly.
“No,” he murmured to himself. “Can’t. Not Harry.”
Gram had already sent for the healers, but they didn’t know what it could be. Teddy wouldn’t speak to them—wouldn’t tell them his symptoms—refused to be moved to St. Mungo’s.
“Let him rest and call us if it gets worse,” one whispered to his worried Gram as he left. “I think it’s just a magically intensified fever. I’ve left a potion for you to give him.”
He had emptied the potion into a music box Ginny had given him for Christmas one year when he was small. He only kept it by his bedside as his Gram said it looked nice there.
A knock on his door and he was clutching at his pillow, his young hips thrust against his bed, trying to ease the yearning he felt.
Had his father ever felt like this? This urge to mate? Had he gone nearly insane when he first met his mum, wanting to mark her so desperately like this?
At the beginning of this year, he had obsessively researched werewolves and their mating habits in the library. Whenever one of his friends would ask him what he was doing, he would answer that he was trying to understand his father, and they would leave him alone.
He knew that some wolves never felt this urge to mate—especially if they hadn’t met someone who appealed to their darker creature. Werewolves would often search the earth for the one whose scent called to them. They weren’t destined for one person, but their bodies would demand to be mated to the first person they caught the scent of that called to them.
It was heaven and hell. A curse and a blessing. Beautiful and yet beastlike.
“Moonlet?” a baritone voice asked from the doorway and he could hear the door close behind his beloved godfather. “Dromeda called and said you were ill.”
Footsteps echoed in the fairy nightlight and Teddy felt when his Prongslet settled on the bed, the need rushing through him until he moaned in pleasured pain.
“Moons,” he sighed before reaching a hand out, running it calmly through Teddy’s long hair, a deep brown with swaths of black hidden within it.
“Please,” he begged, uncertain if he wanted his Prongslet to continue or to leave him alone completely.
The hand continued to stroke, moving down to his bare neck, and to his sweating shoulders. “Moonlet, you have to tell me what is wrong. Let me help you. Let the healers help you.”
“They can’t help,” he sobbed quietly. “They can’t help me, Prongslet.”
The hand stilled before moving up through the long wisps of hair, trying to comfort him.
Teddy moaned again and arched into the touch before turning his lust-filled blue-green eyes toward his mate. “Please. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Brows furrowed in confusion before emerald eyes glanced out the window to the new moon. “You can’t hurt me, Moonlet. You could never hurt me.”
Teddy shook his head emphatically before breaking down in sobs, clutching a pillow to his chest to give him some kind of distance from he one who had made him like this. “Please, Prongslet. My Prongslet. You don’t understand.”
Warm hands enveloped his pale face and chapped lips ghosted across his. He moaned again and leaned into the pressure, wanting the kiss to last, to be real, to be a claiming, but his Prongslet moved away. “Then make me understand.”
“You’ll hate me.” Dark blue met green before Teddy looked away. “I couldn’t bear it if my Prongslet hated me.”
A sigh. “I could never hate you, Moons.” Teddy glanced at his godfather. “Never.”
Lips gently kissed his nose and he shuddered before wrapping his arms around Prongslet’s neck and pulling him down lower. Hastily he kissed his godfather, his lips open and desperate and inexperienced. Kissing dry lips, nipping, loving. In his need he began to shiver and he pushed himself closer only to stop when he felt his Prongslet stiffen in his arms.
“I knew it,” he whispered brokenly, forcing himself away. “I knew you’d hate me.”
His body wracked with shuddering breaths. It was torture to be so close to his Prongslet, so very, very close, and being unable to bite him like the moon-mother begged him to.
“I don’t hate you,” Prongslet whispered, his lips against Teddy’s hair. “I could never hate you.” He paused. “Are you in-in heat?” he stammered.
Teddy shook his head. “No. Not yet. I think I’m still too young.”
“Then what is it?” Warm arms held him firmly against a toned chest and Teddy sniffed at the neck presented to him.
“Mate. I need to mark my mate. You’re not mine yet and—and I could smell her on you at the party. I could smell her.”
“Who?” His Prongslet wondered out loud.
He shuddered, anger coursing through his blood. “Hermy—Hermione.”
“Teddy, she’s just a friend,” Prongslet reassured him but Teddy just shook more, small gasps escaping from his parted lips.
“That’s not what she thinks. I can smell it. Her arousal.”
“Moonlet, she’s my best friend—married to my other best friend,” he assured him but Teddy just growled.
“You don’t think I know what it smells like? Ginny’s cheated on her husband at least four times just last summer. I could smell them on her—in her. I knew as soon as the baby was gone, before she told me, because its sweet scent was gone, and already she smelled of someone else. It was disgusting—and every time I saw her I was afraid I’d smell you within her.” Tears were now running down his sweat-stained face, the anguish of two years of knowing and being able to do nothing when his body urged him to claim, to mark, finally flowing from him.
Prongslet looked at him astonished. “I only knew of two,” he murmured and Teddy gazed at him, shocked. “I caught her with one, and another told me.”
Teddy’s small yet firm hands wove into his Prongslet’s raven locks, caressing, pulling, anchoring himself to the present. “Please,” he begged, a half-whine, his face crimson from arousal and shame. “Please, Prongslet. It hurts.”
Leaning forward until his face was buried in the crook of his godfather’s neck, he inhaled deeply. “Yes. I would never lie to you, Prongslet.”
He pulled away, gazing into Teddy’s eyes, trying to read all the emotions and pain within them and after a moment, nodded in resignation. “What do you have to do?”
“Just let me mark you—just for now. I promise. Unless—”
“Unless you would do more.”
Prongslet sighed and glanced around the room, holding the suffering boy in his arms. The dark blue walls were covered in drawings of wolves and now, for the first time, the large wall devoted to werewolf culture took on a new meaning. “We would be married essentially,” Prongslet whispered to himself, his eyes squinting on the section of the wall devoted to werewolf mates, a picture of Remus and Tonks at the very top of it—a perfect feint.
“So innocent,” he murmured before turning back to Teddy and kissing his lips lightly. “I love you so much,” he vowed, giving his answer. “My Moonlet.”
“Prongsy,” Teddy sighed, kissing him again before moving his hands to his mate’s neck. “I’m sorry if it hurts.”
“You could never hurt me,” was the response, choked with silent tears that Teddy kissed away. “Never.”
Stroking the side of Prongslet’s neck, Teddy let his nose drift down his godfather’s strong jaw, sniffing, nipping at skin, before he licked the spot he had chosen.
A shiver ran through Prongslet and Teddy smiled to himself. He knew his mate, his Prongslet, was sad, upset, but he still wanted him and soon they would be together and not even Ministry law could keep them apart. “’M sorry,” he murmured, before he sank his teeth into the soft flesh, biting, nipping, sucking, licking, claiming, marking him forever. The mark would fade but should never disappear.
His body quivered in delight and with a gasp he shuddered a release across his mate’s chest. “I’m so sorry,” he stammered, weeping against Prongslet’s shoulder, his lips still ghosting the mark. “I didn’t know that would happen. I swear.”
Lips, salty with tears, touched his lightly in a loving embrace. “Shh, Moons. I know. I know. It’s alright now. I’m marked.”
“I’m a monster—a beast,” Teddy sobbed and he felt his Prongslet’s arms tighten around him possessively.
“Never a monster, Moonlet. You’re too beautiful,” he sighed, his hands moving in circles on Teddy’s back as his gaze rested on the fairytale he’d given Teddy earlier that week—a fitting choice, he now thought. “If anything—I’m the beast for wanting you.”
… De vilde svaner …
“Turtlenecks. Again,” Ginny murmured at one of the few joint Black and Weasley occasions. Scorpius was sitting on Teddy’s lap as he read to him the newest fairytale his Prongslet had gotten for him when he came top in his class—again—at the end of his second year.
“Swans!” Scorpius said happily, his blonde hair lighter than Teddy’s strawberry blonde waves, his eyes a dark chocolate brown. He had become bolder since the marking over Christmas, which was bolstered by his Prongslet’s light caresses to the back of his neck and gentle kisses before bed.
Teddy had even wanted to go out on what he called a ‘proper date,’ having seen some of the upper years escort girls to Hogsmeade and his mate had taken him several times to Diagon Alley that July, holding Teddy’s hand gently yet possessively.
“Yes, Scor. The Wild Swans.” He pointed at the picture of the eleven princes trapped within their animagus forms, their sister weeping near them as she knit tunics for them out of nettles.
“It’s a shame,” Ginny’s friend Demelza answered, her brown hair glinting red in the sunlight. “Remember when he would wear his Quidditch robes in spring?”
Ginny laughed. “All that muscle. Such a shame—and going to waste.” Her eyes raked over her ex-boyfriend before she shrugged.
“Is he married?” Demelza asked as Hermione and Audrey, Percy’s wife, joined the conversation.
“Is who married?” Audrey inquired, pouring herself some more punch. A large diamond engagement ring glittered next to her wedding band.
“Harry Potter,” Demelza answered, tilting her head toward Teddy’s godfather. “He’s wearing some kind of silver band on his left ring finger.
Ginny scoffed. “Wouldn’t be silver,” she muttered. “He’d be too afraid it would hurt Teddy.”
He smiled slightly to himself. Silver hurting werewolves was an urban legend in both the wizarding and Muggle worlds, but he never bothered correcting it.
Hermione’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Harry’s hand and then she gasped. “That does look like a wedding ring.”
Teddy could smell confusion masking the usual arousal that tinged her scent when she looked at her friend.
He grinned as he continued to read the story to a content Scorpius. Teddy had been surprised his first night back from Hogwarts when he saw his Prongslet wearing it. He had sulked throughout dinner and as soon as he got his mate alone, he had pulled down the turtleneck so that he could reapply the mark on his mate’s neck—only to be told later that his Prongslet had wanted to follow the human custom of a wedding band so that Teddy knew he was devoted to him.
He had nuzzled his Prongslet for a full hour that night as an apology.
The ring was beautiful, a thick platinum band with a single diamond cut into it. It also had the added benefit of keeping several wizards and Muggles away from him, knowing instinctually that he was already taken.
“How long has he been wearing it?” Ginny questioned, a look of concentration on her face.
Fleur had now walked over to the group of ‘Weasley witches’—except for Demelza who had eyes for Harry, the honorary Weasley, they were all Weasleys by birth or marriage—and heard the question. “Worn what?”
“The wedding band on his finger.”
“When’s the last time he was at a family gathering?” This was Demelza.
“Christmas, I think. He left early because his godson was ill.”
Teddy kissed his cousin’s head when he noticed he was no longer paying attention to the story, but instead to the group of witches near them. “Teddy,” he said happily before snuggling closer.
“I think he was wearing it last March at the Ministry gala,” Audrey added in. “It is a fine ring—must be worth a fortune.”
“Why eesn’t ‘is wife ‘ere then?” Fleur question and Ginny shrugged.
“Why wouldn’t he tell me and Ron? We’re his best friends,” Hermione murmured distractedly, pushing her long, bushy hair behind her shoulder.
“Beell,” Fleur called and her husband came over with their youngest, Louis, who would enter Hogwarts in seven years.
“Do you know ‘oo our ‘Arry ‘as married?” She tilted her wine glass toward the subject of their conversation.
Bill’s eyes narrowed, taking in not only the band of metal on his hand but the turtleneck, covering his neck in the sweltering heat.
“’Ee eez wearing an wedding ring.”
“Oh, no he didn’t,” he growled, before handing Louis over to his mother.
The women looked at him in confusion, but he didn’t say anything, his eyes instead focusing on Teddy, who was staring directly back at him, his gaze full of defiance and free from regret.
“I think he did,” he stated before walking over to Harry and pulling down his turtleneck, to reveal the claiming mark.
Arthur, whom Harry had been talking to, eyed the bruise curiously, not noticing the teeth marks.
“How could you let him?” he asked, pain in his eyes. “He could have infected you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry said warily, casting his eyes around until he found Teddy, who was holding his little cousin close to him. He offered him a small smile before turning back to Bill.
“The hell you don’t. He’s a child.”
The room instantly became hushed, the words echoing almost around them.
“I know. Don’t think I don’t know.”
“What’s wrong?” Gram asked, coming up beside them and looking between Prongslet and Bill.
“Harry let your grandson mark him as a werewolf would a mate.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Gram stated, her voice cold and her eyes flashing in anger. “Teddy isn’t infected.”
His Prongslet sighed and put his head in his hand, probably wishing to be anywhere but there at the moment.
“You haven’t noticed?” Bill asked, stunned, his Gram just staring at him. “Haven’t noticed his behavior at the full moon, how he craves meat?”
She shook her head emphatically, like she was trying to deny what she knew was true. “Don’t talk such nonsense. My grandson’s completely human—and just—overly affectionate with Harry.”
Teddy growled in his chest and Draco and Ginny both turned their heads to look at him.
“He’s marked him, Dromeda. Harry let him mark him—he’s even wearing a damn wedding band.”
“Harry?” She turned to him, large brown eyes looking at him imploringly.
“There’s someone close to me—a friend,” he tried to explain, “who gets aroused whenever they’re around me. A very close friend.”
Teddy saw Hermione straighten.
“He could smell her on me from just her hugging me and he got ill. You remember, Dromeda. The healers could do nothing. I couldn’t bear him being so sick, shivering and sweating. He burned to the touch and his eyes were glassy and couldn’t hold their color. I swear it was just—the mark.”
She gasped. “He went into heat?”
Harry shrugged. “I won’t say anything else. I wouldn’t do that to Moonlet.”
“I’m his grandmother!” she shouted at him, finally losing her temper.
“I’m his mate. I’ve always taken care of him and I won’t tell his secrets to a room of over curious Weasleys.”
The harsh baritone washed over Teddy, causing him to shiver in desire and he bit back a moan.
“You disgust me,” she murmured, her eyes on Harry.
“I know, Dromeda. I know.”
Only Teddy noticed that his Prongslet never said he was sorry for it.
… Les Wilis …
Teddy didn’t know why he came early. He’d told all of his friends to go onto Honeydukes without him and decided to claim a booth in a dark corner, the elaborate book opened in front of him.
The pictures were rich paintings that took up all of the page at times, dark and haunting as the Wilis, the lost souls of maidens who died from broken hearts, danced across the page. “Giselle,” he whispered to himself, pushing his long pale brown hair behind an ear. It was completely straight and his eyes were a bright blue that were almost sea-green in the light. He didn’t want to stand out today.
“Teddy?” a female voice asked and he looked up, startled to see Hermione Weasley standing there. “I didn’t realize it was a Hogsmeade weekend.”
Teddy shrugged in response and turned back to his storybook, a beautiful picture of a ballerina-spirit meeting his gaze.
“Aren’t you a bit old for fairy stories?” Hermione sighed as she set her shopping on the table before sitting down across from her. “I can’t imagine Andromeda approves.”
“Fairytales tell us basic truths and are historically fascinating as they are told by Muggles about various aspects of our world.”
She sighed. “If you say so.” She didn’t sound convinced.
Teddy turned a page, his hair momentarily shimmering into a bright purple to match the painting in front of him.
“We really need to talk. I haven’t seen you since that—gathering—at the Weasleys.”
She waited. He continued to avidly look at the paintings. “Talk then.”
“Why would you tell such lies to Harry, Teddy?”
He sighed. “You just as good as admitted that it wasn’t a lie since you assumed I was referring to you.” He turned his sea-blue eyes to her. “I am a Ravenclaw, remember.”
Hermione bristled. “The hat wanted to put me in Ravenclaw,” she began to explain but Teddy clucked his tongue in irritation.
“Obviously it thought you weren’t suited.” Teddy leaned back, changing the subject back. “I don’t understand why though. You’re married. What about Rose and now Hugo?—Wait, don’t answer that. I don’t think I want to know.”
He sniffed the air and smelled the subtle scent of his mate. He must be near, perhaps grabbing a firewhiskey at the bar from Madame Rosmerta before coming over, he thought to himself with a smile—which Hermione then misinterpreted.
“Why do you always have to ruin everything?” she sighed into her hand. “First you destroy Harry’s relationship with Ginny—“
“I didn’t ruin it,” he responded indignantly. “She ruined it herself, if I remember correctly.”
She huffed and crossed her arms. “You suggested to Harry—“
“No I didn’t. The worst I said is that I didn’t want him to read me a bedtime story because the mermaid had red hair. I wasn’t even six yet.”
“That is not the point—“
“Then what is the point?”
She opened her mouth to respond but Teddy cut her off.
“You do realize you’re having a conversation with a third year about how you’re sexually attracted to a man other than your husband.” His voice was raised in anger and strained from the very idea that this horrific conversation was actually taking place, and a few tables around them fell silent at his words.
Great, just what he needed—an audience.
His Gram, with her presence and position of matriarch over the Weasley clan along with Molly, had managed to secure everyone’s silence about his werewolf traits and his mating ritual with his godfather, before promptly forgetting that it had ever happened. Teddy doubted, however, that her influence could extend to a crowded pub.
The Daily Prophet had gotten wind of the story that his Prongslet was wearing a wedding band and blew it out of proportion. Every week there was new speculation as to the identity of his bride, and many agreed privately that it had to be a Muggle as no witch had come forward, and Harry refused all interviews and wouldn’t give out a name or even confirm or deny that he even was wearing a wedding band.
Nothing for it, then. If this was going to be done, this was going to be done.
“I am doing no such thing.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“How can you spout such lies?”
“Your name wasn’t even mentioned. You just automatically assume I was talking about you—and I would never lie to Prongslet.”
“Harry is my best friend, my husband’s best friend—“
Teddy groaned. She just had to say Prongslet’s name in reference to this conversation. The rumors would be all over the Prophet in no time, and he briefly wondered if he should find a bookie and make a bet to see how long the sixth Weasley’s marriage actually lasted.
“—I would never do anything.”
“Then why are you here if not to get me off the trail? Is it so you can lust in silence or go after him without anyone the wiser?”
Her eyes widened.
“I may be thirteen but I’m not completely ignorant. I know how everyone in the family looks at him, whether or not they’re married. It’s disgusting.”
“What, like the way you look at him?” she countered before a large hand rested on her shoulder, squeezing it slightly in a silent command for her to be quiet.
“I think this conversation has gone on long enough, Hermione,” Harry said softly, but his voice carried through the pub.
“Harry!” she squeaked, standing up hurriedly and turning her back on Teddy.
A sickly-sweet smell tickled his nose and he scrunched it up in disgust. He hated that smell; it made him feel ill and caused him to want to re-mark his Prongslet. It was cloying, possessive, and utterly wrong.
“I was just having a word with Teddy.”
“I doubt Andromeda would approve, and I certainly do not,” he said softly, his voice little more than a whisper.
“He needed to be set straight about some—falsehoods he may have told you.”
“Judging by the look on his face, they weren’t falsehoods.”
He moved around her and came to sit down next to Teddy, who leaned up and nuzzled their noses together in a form of greeting.
A few patrons exchanged glances, but said nothing, intent on watching the end of the altercation.
“Harry, you can’t mean—” Hermione began, but he cut her off.
“Go home to Ron, Hermione. There’s nothing for you here.”
He set down a roast beef sandwich and Butterbeer before Teddy that he had managed to carry with his own lunch. Teddy smiled brightly, knowing that Madame Rosmerta had excellent rare meat, and took a hearty bite from his meal.
Hermione gulped. “Nothing?”
Prongslet turned to her. “No, Hermione. Nothing.”
He reached forward and gently closed the storybook so it wouldn’t get dirty, the painting of jilted souls hidden from view.
… Petroushka …
Teddy ran to the fireplace and with a whispered word, fell into the floo network, his Gram none the wiser. He had turned fourteen the previous April, and now his skin was burning, so hot, as if he were made of tin and melting in hot flames.
“Prongslet,” he called out as he fell out inelegantly, his normally perfect vision blurred as the need coursed through him. “P-prongs.”
He heard a pop somewhere beside him, but he was in too much pain to truly notice. The scent was wrong. Off. Not human. Beyond that he knew nothing.
“Must gets Master Harry!” squeaked the not-human, and Teddy’s eyes rolled into the back of his head his body began to thrash, his arms flailing about him and striking the hard wooden floor at odd angles.
He’d been fighting the need for nearly two weeks, not wanting to hurt his beloved Prongslet, whom he loved so much. He couldn’t bear to force him, even though he wanted to live, he knew he was too young.
Teddy had prayed to both the Muggle God and his pagan forefathers that he wouldn’t reach sexual maturity until he was at least sixteen. Sixteen was only a year away from wizard maturation; it was close enough. His Prongslet might be able to overlook it, to truly love him instead of doing it out of duty and the pure love for his godson. That’s all he wanted—the love of his mate.
He was too young, a child by wizard standards.
His right leg caught on something as it continued to flail without conscious thought, and he heard a snap. He groaned in pain, but the limb continued to shake and shudder, the bones rubbing the wrong way and causing an ache to shoot up through his leg into his spine.
“Ah,” he cried out and he bit his lower lip, tearing right through as he turned over onto his stomach painfully. His legs stilled slightly, unable to fully kick out, as he continued to go into convulsions, his blood spilling onto the floor and smearing onto his face as he broke his nose as a particularly violent shudder coursed through his straining body.
He could barely breathe, hardly think except for the constant repetition of his mate’s name, again and again, again and again.
A silent mantra that no one could hear.
Prongslet. Prongslet. Prongsie. Prongs.
He began to choke as blood trickled down his throat and he berated himself for being so stupid. He should have just come to his godfather, no matter whether his Gram forbade it or not. This was not worth it—he didn’t want to die in a pool of his own blood, alone on the floor of Grimmauld Place.
The silent portrait of his great aunt watched him in confusion and slight fear, recognizing his pureblood status and his identity as a Black through the ancient magic that bled through the mansion. She had been cursed silent several years before, and was now unable to move from her frame, only watching silently the comings and goings of the House of Black.
Footsteps pounded toward Teddy and he opened his bloodshot blue eyes, his dirty blond hair streaked with purple, bubblegum pink, and a gold-yellow, a new color or shade added with each violent attack on his senses.
“Moonlet,” his Prongslet gasped, as warm hands turned him onto his side, holding him firmly in place against his warm body as the seizures continued to wrack his body. “My god, you’re bleeding,” he murmured before calling for something.
Teddy couldn’t understand. It was confusing. So confusing.
His head was lifted and a pillow placed beneath it.
“Moonlet, my Moonlet, my beautiful Moonlet,” the voice whispered in his ears as the shuddering continued. A leg wrapped around his legs, keeping them in place, a warm arm around his torso, trapping his arms, and a free hand began to stroke his neck, soothing his nerves as his body continued to twitch until it completely stilled.
Teddy rasped in painful breaths and spit the blood from his mouth, feeling a few loose teeth in the process. His chest heaved painfully and he managed a small moan as his senses began to return to him, registering the pain.
“Moonlet,” his Prongslet softly whispered into his ear and he snuggled closer to the warmth, his body aching. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
The question was rhetorical, Teddy knew, but his eyes filled with tears as he heard the pain in his mate’s voice.
“I love you,” the voice whispered and the arm held him closely though gently, now he was no longer going into spasms due to his Prongslet’s presence, “so much. I’d do anything for you—anything.”
Soft lips kissed the back of his neck gently and he moaned as his pain-filled body twinged in pleasure. This was what he wanted, what he craved, what he needed.
His mate loving him—the only thing that could keep any further seizures away.
Firm hands turned him over and his blurry eyes blinked up to see his Prongslet staring down at him, tears coursing down his face, making him somehow more beautiful to Teddy.
His hands roved over Teddy’s form, searching for breaks, before Prongslet summoned his wand and began to heal Teddy’s broken bones. A pain potion was then pressed to his lips and he swallowed it gratefully, not minding that he lay broken and bloody beneath his mate in the front hall.
Nothing mattered but that his Prongslet was staring at him with love and acceptance, wanting him despite everything.
“Love you so much,” Prongslet murmured as he took away the bottle and then leaned down to kiss him gently.
Teddy leaned up into the touch and opened his lips greedily, taking in the scent of his mate, his sore tongue hesitantly teasing his Prongslet’s lower lip, asking quietly for entrance.
His Prongslet moaned and opened his mouth, his own tongue darted out into Teddy’s, gently probing, searching, mapping, loving.
Rough yet gentle hands slid down his chest until they rested on the hem of his shirt, tugging it up lightly until his smooth chest was revealed. “Love you,” he moaned again before his lips left Teddy’s and he began to softly kiss his chest, his mouth briefly sucking on Teddy’s nipple, causing the boy to moan and arch upward into the touch, his hair darkening into a rich mahogany with blood red streaks, his eyes lightening to a pale brown. “So beautiful,” he said in awe, looking up at his godson. “Love you so much.”
“P-p-please,” he begged, his voice rough from his earlier pain and the shivers of pleasure that coursed through his battered body. “Prongslet.”
He only nodded before sitting up, lifting his black turtleneck over his head and throwing it into a corner near the portrait of Walburga Black. He fumbled with the zipper of his jeans and quickly stripped out of them, his boxers soon following, until he was only wearing his socks—his shoes having mysteriously disappeared.
Teddy reached for him, his arms weak and tired, and Prongslet leaned down obligingly, resting his weight on his knees and elbows. “P-Pr-Prongsie,” Teddy moaned as his fingers traced over the mark he had made a year and a half before.
“Shh,” he sighed, leaning down for a gentle yet deep kiss. “Don’t speak, darling. Let me take care of you.”
Teddy only nodded before leaning up and gently nipping at the mark, laying his claim on his mate.
A moment later and his Prongslet was gone again, and he sighed as he felt his mate gently undressing him. “So beautiful, my Moonlet. I love you so much.”
Salty kisses were laid on his bare thighs and he shivered as a warm hand engulfed his erection, stroking it lightly. “Please—b-burns,” he moaned and his mate nodded and reached for his wand, murmuring a preparation spell.
“Love you,” he whispered again, capturing Teddy’s soft pink lips hungrily as he slowly entered him.
“Ngg,” Teddy gasped and his Prongslet stopped, waiting for him to adjust.
He lowered his lips to Teddy’s exposed neck and kissed it gently, nipping at where it joined his shoulder, leaving his own love bite that mirrored the mark on his own neck.
“R-ready,” Teddy groaned, his neck arching in submission to his mate, who pushed gently forward, rough yet worshipping hands clasped on his thighs.
“So good. So perfect,” Prongslet praised, tears running down his face as he continued to kiss Teddy’s neck as he began to move gently in and out. One hand snaked upward and began to gently pump Teddy, wanting to bring him pleasure, before the boy arched upward in his release, a low moan escaping his lips before Prongslet shuddered inside of him.
Tear stained lips claimed him, loving him as they rode out the gentle pleasure as their hearts gently broke. “I love you, Moons,” Prongslet murmured, and Teddy nipped at his lower lip, smilingly slightly in happiness.
He was happy, he was safe, and with that final thought he drifted off into a pain-induced slumber, a fairytale running through his head. A doll, a Russian doll, loving despite itself. Petrushka.
… Den Standhaftige Tinsoldat …
A hand lighting in his hair, pulling him closer into a soft kiss. Teddy loved the taste of his Prongslet, so warm, so soothing. Gram didn’t know about them, hadn’t guessed even though they had been lovers, truly bonded, for six months now.
She thought he was at his friend’s house for New Year’s Eve, but he had come here instead, to Grimmauld Place, to his true home.
Home was where the heart was, as the Muggles would say.
“What you do to me,” his Prongslet sighed as he pulled away, strong hands stroking the nape of Teddy’s smooth neck.
Teddy breathed out in contentment before gasping as the hand slipped down his back to rest on his backside. His mind drifted happily before he snuggled closer to his mate.
He missed him so much. Gram never let him come over anymore, and whenever he asked her why, she would either begin to cry softly or wouldn’t answer him at all.
He tried to explain, saying that it wasn’t his Prongslet’s fault, lying aptly and telling her that nothing had happened when in fact it had. She wouldn’t listen. Would never listen, but he couldn’t hurt her by leaving permanently.
In the eyes of magical law, he and his Prongslet were married and, if he revealed himself as a creature or rather possessing creature blood, then there was nothing anyone could do to prevent them living together. Creatures, specifically dark creatures, were seen as adults as soon as they reached sexual maturity, even if they bonded with wizards or witches. As soon as he had marked his Prongslet, he could have moved into his bed, and he knew his mate would have let him although he wouldn’t have made love to Teddy, not then, not yet.
Teddy couldn’t bear to hurt his Gram, though, anymore than he already had, and it broke his heart to see the pain he put her through.
Now he only saw his beloved Prongslet at Weasley functions—the really large ones—and when Teddy snuck over to Grimmauld Place over the summers. Occasionally his mate could come to Hogsmeade, but they didn’t do that too often in fear of his Gram finding out or one of the many Weasleys.
The warm hand pulled Teddy toward him and he gasped as their half-hard erections met before biting down on the claiming mark on Prongslet’s neck. Hot breath puffed against his ear in contentment and Teddy lapped up the blood lovingly, the coppery taste sliding down his throat. He stared at the bite lovingly before pressing a gentle kiss to the raw skin.
“Mum wasn’t Dad’s mate, was she?” he asked in a small voice and Prongslet just pulled him closer.
He sighed out against blue-black hair, playing with the tips of it. “Why do you say that?”
“It’s just—when Gram tells me stories—real ones, not the fairytale version now that I’m older—it’s just, Dad wouldn’t have been able to bear it. Not if Mum was his mate.”
Prongslet pulled away. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t bear being away from you,” Teddy confessed. “It’s only knowing that you have my mark and wear a wedding ring that keeps me sane when I’m at school. Dad left Mum for months when she was pregnant with me. The thought of your child growing inside me, even if it were a full werewolf, would make me swell with pride and possessiveness. Dad didn’t want me—I know he didn’t.”
Prongslet opened his mouth to refute it but Teddy leaned forward and kissed him sweetly, gasping at the friction that erupted between them. He shivered in ecstasy and began to move his hips, rubbing against his Prongslet until they shuddered in release, each clutching at the other.
“You smell like me,” he murmured happily, licking his mate’s upper arm before moving to his chest to clean his Prongslet properly. “Mhmm.” When he was done, he leaned forward and claimed soft lips again, plundering the mouth that was now his. “I would want our baby no matter what ‘curse’ was put upon it. I would love it because you gave it to me. The wolf in me, however submissive it is to my human will, would want our cubs.” He kissed Prongslet softly again, delighting in the sensation of warm fingers circling his opening before entering him gently. Teddy gasped, pushing down wantonly before settling down in his mate’s lap again. “He didn’t want me. She couldn’t have been his mate.”
“I want you. Always did, since I first heard Tonks was pregnant. My godson. My family.”
Teddy was rolled onto his back and he arched upward as Prongslet’s lips nipped at his neck.
His mate over the past few months had gotten more lupine. Nipping at him, licking at him after they made love, nuzzling him whenever they were together.
“Do you know if Dad ever met his mate?” he asked an hour later, spent and sated as Prongslet lay across his chest, green eyes looking into his hazel ones.
He sighed. “I know he found them,” he confessed quietly. “I have a trunk of his old things and I found a draft of a letter. I have no idea if it was actually sent. It was so old it was almost falling apart, and it was a love letter to his mate. I thought when I was younger that he wrote it to Mum, but it couldn’t have been. He would have ravaged her within a few months of meeting her, not denied any form of attraction no matter the age difference.”
“When was the letter written?”
Teddy shrugged. “I don’t know, but he loved them—it was so obvious. No wonder he didn’t want to marry Mum. Wolves are monogamous, often after death as well.” Silent tears rushed down his cheeks and Prongslet kissed them away.
“Moonlet, darling. What’s wrong?” Hands surrounded his face and his mate looked deeply into Teddy’s arms. “Tell me. What else did this letter say?”
“It spoke of a love with hair like the midnight sky—and a cub. I don’t know if it was Dad’s. But there was a cub at least on the way that his mate was having.”
“Perhaps she was married to someone else?”
“Perhaps,” he agreed. “Read to me?”
He was met with a smile. “Of course. I have a new book of you.” His mate moved to the bedside table and took out a new, pristine book. “It’s a story about a tin soldier who loved a paper ballerina,” he explained. “They died together, but were together in death.”
“Like Mum and Dad.”
Prongslet kissed him deeply. “Yes. Like Remus and Tonks,” he agreed before pulling Teddy’s back against his chest before opening up the book, florid pictures jumping out at them.
A thought passed through Teddy’s head, but he pushed it away. His father fell in love with raven hair and hazel eyes—his mate—and now, years later, Teddy had mated with the son.
He shivered and Prongslet pulled him closer, kissing his shoulder gently before turning the page.
He’d never think about the possibility again, he promised himself. Never again.
… L’Oiseau de feu …
Teddy laughed happily as he ripped off the packaging of his latest present. “Another ballet inspired story, Prongsie? Are you trying to tell me something?”
Prongslet had surprised him by meeting him at Hogsmeade and riding the Hogwarts Express with him as he sped back to London after his fourth year at Hogwarts.
They’d managed to get a compartment to themselves and cuddled for most of the ride, although Victoire and little Dominique had wanted to join them initially, wanting to spend time with their “Uncle Harry.”
Ginny in what Teddy believed was an attempt to win her ex-boyfriend back had insisted that all of the Weasley children, including her two year-old son Lance, call him “Uncle Harry” so that they knew they wanted him as an official member of the Weasley family. Hermione had fully supported the movement, possibly to convince her husband that Prongslet’s statement about a close friend hadn’t been about her, even when the rumor was printed in the Daily Prophet. A picture of Hermione fighting with Teddy even made it into the article, and he was identified “as a close friend of Potter and the Weasley family.”
Gram had been so angry that she never allowed Hermione anywhere near Teddy and even had her disinvited to a few private Weasley parties as she refused to attend with her grandson if she was present. Not that Teddy minded. He was rather pleased that he got something out of the scandal, though no one but his closest friends, family, and mate could identify the boy in the picture as him as he had looked rather ordinary and never took that form again.
Ron had filed for a divorce about a year before, six months after the scandal broke. It had finally gone through over Easter and Ron had gotten full custody of Rose and Hugo, who were both Weasleys through and through although Rose had inherited her mother’s love for knowledge. Fortunately she didn’t parrot the ideas of others as her mother once had.
“Only that you have lupine grace—not unlike a male ballerina.”
Teddy looked up, startled. “Really?”
“I wouldn’t lie to you, Moons,” Prongslet vowed and Teddy shivered in pleasure.
He leaned forward and captured the lips that had him mesmerized since he was six years old. “I love you, Harry,” he murmured and his mate jerked away, startled. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”
Prongslet shook his head. “No. It’s just the first time you called me by my name.”
Teddy blushed. “I know. Do you not want me to? I just thought—I’m almost grown by wizard standards, and I love you so much—you’re my mate—I don’t have to.”
His Prongslet swooped down and held Teddy in his strong arms, kissing him desperately. “No, I like it, Moonlet,” he breathed in between deep and desperate kisses. “I love you so much, my mate.”
Teddy smiled happily into the kiss, before pushing Harry back, straddling him and nipping playfully at his neck, moving his hips against his. His hair flamed a deep red with gold flecks, mimicking the firebird on the cover of his latest present. “I love you, too.”
The train slowed down and Teddy sighed into the kiss before regretfully pulling himself away. He moved his head down to the corner of Harry’s neck and licked at the mark reverentially and delighted at his Prongslet’s gasps of pleasure. “Hmm,” he growled in contentment, delighting in the unique taste of his mate.
“Th-the train’s stopped,” Harry gasped, bringing Teddy back to reality suddenly, blood still coating his lips.
He quickly pushed himself away and fell across the opposite seat and breathed heavily, his body enflamed with passion.
His Prongslet laughed deep in his throat and moved forward, straightening the bottom of Teddy’s black jumper that he wore over a purple button up shirt that clashed brilliantly with his hair. He chuckled again at the sight.
Teddy looked at him curiously before glancing down and gasped when he saw the problem. His hair instantly flowed into a turquoise that complimented it, his eyes transforming to a chocolate color. “Better?”
“Much better,” Harry purred as he leaned forward to kiss him briefly.
“Prongslet,” Teddy sighed happily as he stretched upward until a bang on the outside compartment window caused him to stop. An irate Ginny and curious Audrey stood outside, staring at them.
Teddy gulped. They hadn’t drawn the outside blind—and they’d probably seen Teddy mark his Prongslet—again—and the almost-kiss-that-should-have-been.
He couldn’t help but gulp again as the seriousness of the situation settled upon him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, turning back to his mate, who was wearing a stony expression.
Prongslet turned to him and his expression softened. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Moonlet. We’ve done nothing wrong,” he said emphatically and Teddy’s heart warmed at his mate’s defense.
“Thank you,” he murmured hesitantly and his Prongslet reached out and squeezed his hand.
“Better get out there and face the Weasleys—and Andromeda,” he said worriedly as he spotted Teddy’s grandmother. “She looks irate.”
Teddy played with his Prongslet’s wedding band and sighed before getting up and grabbing his trunk and his owl, Rumpelstilzchen, who was sleeping happily. Prongslet helped with it and they made their way out to the waiting crowd of Weasleys, thirteen to be exact; the adults were whispering among each other while they tried to keep their children distracted with something else. Hermione was notably absent, but Gabrielle Delacour was standing next to Ron, her arm looped in his and a soft, understanding smile on her face.
Harry smiled back at her, both he and Teddy understanding the silent message. As a member of the extended Weasley clan through her older sister and nieces and nephew, she would know that Teddy’s father was a werewolf and had creature impulses. She herself was a quarter Veela and had probably felt the urge to fully bond before most witches, though Veela found it easier to control especially as they were drawn to beauty and not to scents that they could not ignore.
“What are you thinking?” Ginny hissed at them, glaring at Teddy whose hand was nestled in his Prongslet’s larger one. “He’s a minor! You’re twice his age!”
He didn’t answer but instead looked toward Teddy’s Gram who stood behind the group, her eyes dark with rage. “Dromeda?” he asked quietly and her eyes came to life with a raging fire.
“How could you?” she murmured, stepping forward. The twelve Weasleys and Gabrielle moved out of the way, making a path for her.
Teddy couldn’t take his eyes off her, not caring that they were in public, but that he might be forbidden to see his Prongslet completely and might be forced to choose. Ever since he was a child his decision was made, but he still didn’t want to be forced to make it. He didn’t want to hurt his Gram, to lose her, but his mate came first and he refused to fight against his nature and the deep love and longing he felt for his Prongslet.
“He’s your godson. You’re like a father to him.”
“I’m his mate,” was the stoic answer and she snapped.
“What about your wife?”
Harry rolled his eyes. “We both know I don’t have a wife. I started wearing my wedding band when Teddy marked me. You know this, Dromeda.”
“He’s human!” she cried out desperately, causing several parents to turn and look at the confrontation.
“No, Gram,” Teddy said firmly, his clear voice echoing on the magical platform. “I’m not fully human. You know this.”
She shook her head.
“I’m like Dad,” he emphasized. “I was born with lupine instincts. Please, Gram. Don’t you remember? You always cook me rabbit or venison stew on the full moon.” He let go of Prongslet’s hand and walked forward, grasping her shoulders gently and tried to look into her eyes, but she turned away.
“No,” she mumbled, looking around desperately, before shouting out desperately. “No! You’re human, Teddy. You’re not a wolf. Not a wolf. You never turn. You’re human!”
Bill moved forward but she flinched away from him, and he sighed before stepping back again.
“No, Gram. I’m part wolf. A non-transforming one—like Bill. When I was twelve I got sick and I marked Prongslet as my mate. When I was thirteen I went into heat and had seizures until I mated. I would have died.”
Ginny closed her eyes painfully at the confession and held on tightly to Fleur’s arm.
“No. No. You’re mistaken. Harry’s—he’s confused you. Something’s wrong. It’s unnatural.”
“Gram!” Teddy shouted, clutching to her desperately. “It’s more natural than human marriages. His scent moved me since I was a child, Gram, a child. I didn’t know it then, but he was mine. Always mine. I’ll be more true to him than even the most faithful witch or wizard could hope to be.” His gaze flickered to Ginny and Ron before turning back to his Gram. “Please, Gram. See sense,” he begged.
“He’s practically your father! He raised you. He was more a parent than your own father who abandoned your mother when she was pregnant with you. That’s what a wolf does, Teddy. They’re fickle, loners—you’re not that. Harry’s corrupted you!”
“Dromeda, I swear—“ Prongslet began, but Andromeda slapped him hard across the cheek after she broke away violently from her grandson’s hold.
“Don’t you ever come near him again, you child molester!”
Harry turned his head back to her, his eyes full of rage yet tired acceptance, his back firm and straight.
“You can’t do that,” Teddy whispered, his voice deathly quiet and haunting. “We are mates—bonded. The Ministry protects our bond like a magical marriage. We’re married, Gram. Married. I was an adult at the age of twelve or thirteen since I reached—ph-physical maturity.”
“No,” she whispered, broken, before turning again to the man who was like a son to her. “How could you?” she accused. “My precious baby. How could you harm him?”
She walked forward, moving as if to strike him again, but Teddy interceded between them. “Don’t touch my mate, Gram,” he warned, wand drawn although he couldn’t use it during the summers.
“Teddy,” she whispered, dejected. “Come away from him. I’ll keep you safe.”
He shook his head. “No, Gram, I’m sorry.” He turned and embraced his Prongslet and whispered in his ear, “Take me home,” and with a crack the bonded pair Disapparated, leaving a scandal in their wake.
… Layla wa Majnun …
Teddy lay curled up on the bed, sobbing. “How could she?” he asked desperately. “How could she burn it all?” A small pile of crumpled objects rested beside him, the only objects of his past that he managed to save.
His Gram had gone on a rampage when he came over to collect his belongings, throwing copies of the Daily Prophet at him. Teddy didn’t understand—couldn’t understand. Hadn’t she loved him all these years? Hadn’t she been accepting of Dad when Mum had married him secretly?
Why was this any different?
Why was she so angry, so irritable?—why couldn’t she remember things she had been told?
He shook his head in confusion and clasped the few photographs that he had saved, his parents smiling out at him, and the letter his dad had written to his ‘beloved.’
Teddy choked back a sob. This was all he had left except for his school supplies and collection of fairytale books he fortunately kept in his trunk. The latest was still unopened, perfect, a gift his Prongslet had given him in honor of no longer having to hide—a tale of star-crossed lovers. Layla with her long, black hair and sultry eyes and the man driven mad for her.
That didn’t lessen the hurt, however.
His entire wall of werewolf facts had been destroyed, his drawings of wolves since when he was a child, any magical photograph with his Prongslet in it.
She hadn’t bothered to destroy the newspaper articles, he thought bitterly to himself. They were strewn all over the table in the morning room, staring up at him, mocking him.
He and Prongslet had created quite the scandal. Questions of his status as a human or a being or even a dark creature were being brought up in the press, letters to the editor swelled on his ‘abnormality.’ There had never been a documented case of a child of a werewolf born to a witch before in wizarding history. When he was born, the healers believed him human, and declared the lycanthropy virus recessive, much to the relief of probably everyone.
Now, though, that conclusion was being called into question.
Teddy swallowed back more tears, his chestnut hair that curled pushed behind his ear, his midnight blue eyes glistening with tears. He’d been given a title—not unlike Harry’s epithet of the Boy-Who-Lived and the Chosen One. He was now The Born Lupinus.
He chuckled distracted at the thought. Lupinus. Little werewolf. Little Lupin.
How perfectly that worked out.
The fact that no one could decide whether he was a beast, being, or human called into question Prongslet’s involvement. It was scandalous enough that he was married to his godson, someone who was underage and had been for several years. The mystery had finally been solved, and all the witches who had been hinting they were Mrs. Harry Potter were now sadly disappointed. No one could decide whether or not it was a crime, whether Prongslet was a child molester, Teddy a seducer and dangerous creature, or that this was the greatest love story ever told.
It really depended on the reporter and the day.
Gram had saved all of those articles and not a single one of his wolf pictures or the carefully copied notes that he had begun when he was only eleven years old. All gone. Nothing left.
Even his father’s letter was singed around the edges, only saved at the last minute because Gram thought it was a love letter to her daughter, her Dora.
The Floo sounded and Teddy tried to hold back his sobs, knowing his mate was now home. He nuzzled deeper into the lilac colored pillows, breathing in his Prongslet’s scent and trying to calm himself before he faced him in real life.
For several minutes, he could hear Harry moving about, possibly removing his outer robes or just making tea. He didn’t know. He knew Prongslet would come and find him. He always did, if only for a deep kiss before he sat down in the library with the night’s reports.
Teddy liked it when that happened. It made him feel like that he was part of the woodwork, that he belonged there, that he’d always been there. Life went on and he was intrinsically a part of his Prongslet’s world.
“Moonlet,” his mate greeted, pulling Teddy from his thoughts. “What’s wrong?” Warm fingers found their way into his hair and began carding through it lightly, causing Teddy to grumble and then stretch into the touch.
“Hmm, Prongsie,” he sighed, his eyes shuddering closed. “I think there’s something wrong with Gram.”
The fingers paused but then his Prongslet continued. “Wrong—how?”
“She burnt—almost everything. Everything about werewolves, I only have a few photographs left and that letter Dad wrote,” he sighed. “Was she like this when Mum married Dad?”
Pronglset shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.” He paused and leaned down to kiss Teddy’s lips sweetly. “You may be right. I’ll see if I can get someone to look into it.”
Harry’s fingers skirted the burnt edges of the letter almost reverently, but didn’t touch the actual parchment. “There’s no name?” he finally asked after several minutes had passed.
Teddy shook his head, his curls swishing about his ears. On any other occasion, he might have laughed or at least smiled, but he was still on the verge of tears.
“May I?” he asked quietly and, after a moment, Teddy nodded. He leant up slightly and nuzzled his mate’s stomach before resting his head on his thigh. Prongslet continued to card his fingers through his hair and he sighed in peace.
His mate should know, he thought. He deserved the opportunity.
His Prongslet’s eyes skimmed over the looped cursive, taking in the words, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and then confusion until finally settling in shock. When he finished, his eyes searched the parchment for something else—anything—some clue, but Teddy knew he wouldn’t find it. He had looked over it so many times before.
“I don’t think this was written to your mum at all,” he finally said before gingerly setting it down, his eyes never leaving it until he snapped his attention back to Teddy. “When you read it—did you think—?”
“Not at first, but then when I told you about it,” Teddy confessed, unwilling to say anymore.
“Star-crossed lovers,” Prongslet murmured, “except he was never loved or wanted back. Not that I know of.”
“This doesn’t change anything, does it?” Teddy whispered brokenly, waiting for rejection.
Prongslet took a deep breath before releasing it. “No, it doesn’t. No wonder Remus never wanted to see me before he taught Defense. I-I always wondered.”
His hand stilled its movement and he snorted at a memory. “At least he was kinder than Snape.”
Teddy looked up and saw the tears gathering in Harry’s beautiful, expressive eyes.
“Prongsie,” he whispered, before arching up and kissing him softly, their noses rubbing affectionately against each other. “I want you, my mate. I love you. It doesn’t matter.”
“He loved my dad. My dad was Remus’s mate—and he speaks of a night of mating.”
Teddy closed his eyes in pain and willed back the tears. His Prongslet needed him and he wouldn’t fail at his first chance to comfort him. “Shh, my darling. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but us.” He slowly traced the mark on his Prongslet’s exposed neck, the mark now worn proudly and in the open. “So beautiful.” He leaned down and kissed it softly, not licking, not biting, just worshipping it quietly.
Prongslet let out a sob that wrenched at Teddy’s soul.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, wiping away his mate’s tears with his nose. “What’s wrong, Prongsie?”
“You might have been my little brother.”
“I’m not,” he swore. “I know I’m not. Wolves aren’t incestuous,” he said lightly, trying to make his mate smile.
His Prongslet growled, threading his hands roughly into Teddy’s hair. “I could have lost you.”
Teddy leaned forward and nipped at Harry’s pouting lips. “You never will, not even if the moon-mother stopped shining. I love you as a human, my mate.” He swept upward and took a demanding kiss from Prongslet’s scorching lips, delighting in the salty kiss and washing away the pain with his own tears. Pushing his mate down onto the mattress, he leaned over him, nipping and kissing his jaw, one hand moving toward the shirt that needed to come off.
Arching upward, Harry moaned as their clothed erections skimmed across each other, and Teddy shuddered at the sensations rolling over him. “Relax, Prongsie. Let me make love to you—let me fully claim you,” he commanded, the slightest hint of a plea in his voice, and his mate simply nodded.
That night, Teddy made slow love to his mate, thrusting gently and pulling gentle gasps from Harry’s lips, uncaring that the stars were crossed in the heavens above them. All that mattered were the sweet moans and soft grunts that fell upon his ears and the taste of want and need in their every movement.
… Die zertanzten Schuhe …
“Oh, no,” Teddy moaned as they Apparated into the Ministry Atrium. “What is she doing here?”
Prongslet laughed quietly, pulling him through the crowd of well-dressed witches and wizards and toward the refreshments for the Annual Yule Party.
“Her father doesn’t even work here.”
“Who is this mysterious witch?” Prongslet asked, putting a glass of steamed cider in Teddy’s hand.
His Prongslet’s eyebrows rose drastically. “I thought you like Victoire. She’s been a close friend of yours since you two were children.”
He sighed and drank the warm cider all in one gulp, trying to calm his nerves. “That was before—“
“She’s made it her life’s mission to cure me so that we can come back to the ‘family’ and you can marry her Aunt Hermione like you’re supposed to.”
Harry gagged on his drink and Teddy would have smirked if he weren’t speaking the absolute truth.
“Or Aunt Ginny. I really don’t know at this point.”
Prongslet moved behind him and wrapped his smaller frame in warm arms. “Never going to happen,” he murmured before kissing his deep green hair.
Turning in his arms, Teddy smiled up at him and his fingers entangled in his dark hair, his wedding band shining in the magical light. “It’s vexing,” he stated with a gentle kiss. “She’s tried to kiss me several times and wears these—things—“ His nose scrunched up at the memory and Harry nudged it playfully.
“What kind of things?”
“Skimpy things. It’s disturbing.”
“If I remember correctly, you were very beautiful at thirteen.”
“That is not the point,” he breathed before kissing his mate sensually. “Of course I was beautiful. I was trying to seduce you and not seduce you simultaneously.” He nipped his Prongslet’s lower lip and shivered slightly when he drew blood. “I can look however you want me to look.”
His Prongslet stiffened and Teddy, confused, pulled back to look up into his mate’s face.
“I don’t want you to do that,” he said quietly.
“Kiss you?” He bit his lower lip and pulled away, releasing his mate’s hair. “Alright.”
“No, Teddy, that’s not what I—“
“Introduce me, Gabrielle,” a smooth voice cut in, tinged with a French accent. “I’d like to meet zee most sought after couple in Eengland.”
Teddy turned to the voice and saw a squat man, plump around the middle, with a goatee and a diamond-frosted monocle. He was elegantly dressed, diamonds appearing to be the theme of his white wizard robes, and clearly came from wealth. Beside him stood Gabrielle, a small engagement ring adorning her left hand, and her soon-to-be-sister-in-law Ginny.
“’Arry, Teddy,” she greeted before making a polite curtsey, silver branches in her hair forming an enchanted coronet. “My fazzer’s elder brozzer, Monsieur Alain Delacour.”
“A pleasure, a pleasure,” he greeted, holding out his hand which his Prongslet warily took, his posture stiff and formal and his eyes alert.
“”Arry Potter, as you know, and—euh—“ She looked between them, uncertain how to introduce Teddy and their relationship.
“My husband, Teddy Lupin.”
Monsieur Delacour sniffed and didn’t offer his hand, causing Harry to narrow his eyes in anger at the slight.
“You are quite right, my dear,” he turned to Ginny and pressed a hand against the small of her back, the folds of her shining gold robes hiding it completely from sight.
Gabrielle looked nervous and her eyes flickered between her uncle and her sister-in-law, a worried frown marring her pretty lips. Teddy glanced at her and then sniffed the air discreetly and stepped back at the cloying smell.
“About what, Delacour?” Prongslet asked, not even attempting to be charming. His right arm had snuck around Teddy’s waist, pulling him protectively toward his body.
“Eet was such a peety that you could not attend Madame Weasley’s annual family Chreestmas gathering earlier zees week.”
Teddy fought the urge to snarl at him. The invitation had not come that year—not since the incident last summer. He and his Prongslet had been essentially cut off from their family. Ron no longer stopped by Grimmauld Place and probably ignored Harry at work although Prongslet was his superior, Andromeda had raised the wards against his husband so he could not enter, and even George had quietly approached his Prongslet at the Ministry, stating it would be for the best if he bought out Prongslet’s third share in Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.
He hadn’t put up a fight, only asking for his original investment back with interest.
“I’ve never known you to attend before,” his Prongslet stated, a grimace on his face as his eyes drifted to where Delacour’s hand had gone.
“Eet was my first time, true, but probably not zee last,” he admitted casually. “Leetle Gabrielle eez marrying a Weasley just like Fleur did. A peety zee family is so lax about non-‘uman blood, but zen again so eez my own brother. Zen again, by zee time it gets down to zee children, zere is ‘ardly any trace and zee children are purebloods, non?”
A muscle twitched in Harry’s jaw and Gabrielle glanced away, her cheeks not even staining in embarrassment, betraying how used to such opinions as this she was.
“I’m a half-blood,” Prongslet admitted just as casually although his arm tightened around Teddy, so that all of Teddy’s weight was now resting against his chest and side, cradling him.
“Yet you are a wizard.”
“As is everyone in this conversation, including your niece.”
Delacour eyed him warily before taking a deep drink from his Firewhiskey. “Gabrielle’s non-human status is at least that of a Being.”
He turned his gaze to Teddy who held it resolutely, his lupine instincts heightening at the tension, before turning a midnight black.
“Peety, peety,” he mock-sighed. “Zee eenternational press is full of both of you, as I’m sure you know. A child molester and a ‘uman-beast. Zey are also calling you, Monsieur Potter, a ‘ome wrecker considering Madame Weasley left ‘er ‘usband for you, only to ‘ave you leave ‘er by zee wayside, as you Eenglish say.”
“Oncle,” Gabrielle snapped, finally intervening. “’Ermione weeshed to be unfaithful but ‘Arry deed nothing. She offered to ‘ave zee Fidelita Charm cast on ‘er. Eet’s zee only reason she ‘as visiting rights with zee children.”
“Ees that so, ees that so?” he contemplated. “A pleasure, as I said. Gabrielle, I would keep your Rose and ‘Ugo away from ‘im eef I were you, especially as zey grow up. Beasts cannot be trusted, but zeir ‘uman mates are almost worst. An unnatural perversion.—Come, Madame,” he said, turning back to Ginny, who had watched the entire conversation dispassionately. “You were going to tell me of zat wonderful match I meesed.”
Gabrielle pressed her hands together and sighed. “I apologize,” she said in a small voice. “If I ‘ad known ‘ee would be zat vocal, I would ‘ave refused to introduce you. ‘Ee eez usually polite.”
Prongslet nodded in her direction but did not look at her.
“Gabrielle!” Ron’s distinctive voice called and he came up behind her. “You really shouldn’t be talking to them,” he whispered, though it was loud enough to carry to the other couple. “Come away.”
Sighing again, she nodded dully and cast one last look at Harry, who was gazing intently at Teddy in concern. “Au revoir, mes amis,” she murmured as she allowed her fiancé to lead her away.
Teddy began to quake in anger and he soon found himself in his mate’s arm, Prongslet nuzzling his hair and his warm hands caressing my back. “It does not matter,” he whispered. “The world is nothing.”
He grasped onto the back of his Prongslet’s dress robes and clawed them. “How can you say that? My own Gram won’t even write to me or look me in the eye—the Weasleys have cast you out. Even Ron—”
Prongslet pulled away and fiercely kissed him, nipping at his lips, licking the inside of his teeth, and drinking in his flavor.
Teddy didn’t care that they were probably being gawped at, that Prongslet was doing this in front of the entire Ministry of Magic. It felt so perfect, so possessive, so needed, and he moaned in the back of his mouth, pushing himself forward.
Breaking away, his Prongslet nuzzled the back of his ear. “I love you, my mate. The world outside does not matter. Only you, only you.”
Teddy leaned up and nuzzled his nose against his mate’s lips and sighed in contentment, feeling as if he were in an enchanted space as colors and dancers whirled around them magically, almost like his latest fairytale. He smiled to himself. He and his Prongslet were like the knight who followed the twelve princesses through the trapdoor to find them dancing the night away until their shoes were ruined, watching but separate, hated for their intrusion.
“My mate,” he vowed, inhaling his scent and listening to the steady beating of his heart. “Only you.”
… L’après-midi d’un faune …
Silent tears streamed down Teddy’s pale face as he stared at the clock on the mantelpiece. He kept on praying that it was lying, that it wasn’t really four in the afternoon, but he knew better than to hope.
Glancing around the room, he took in the old Black library. The bookshelves had been pressed against the walls magically, the books held in stasis through old enchantments, and a large table was against one wall, covered in unopened bottles of champagne, bowls of strawberries and cream, and a large sponge cake that his Prongslet had made without magic especially for the occasion.
The room was deathly quiet, only the clock’s gentle chimings breaking up the silence that mocked Teddy as she glanced up at the large banner on the wall. “Congratulations, Teddy.”
Prongslet had offered to invite all of his friends for his combined birthday and graduation party, but he had refused. He wanted his extended family back—for both himself and his mate—and he insisted that only Gram and the Weasleys be invited. He would have invited the Malfoy clan, as well, but ever since the open scandal, Draco Malfoy and Bill Weasley had a rather vocal and public break. The Malfoys and Weasleys, once again, refused to be seen together.
Little Scorpius, who was set to attend Hogwarts in two years, couldn’t even bear to hear any of the Weasley children’s names as they had hurt his Teddy—so he had decided to have the Weasley party today and then a private Malfoy family lunch the next afternoon in Diagon Alley.
At least he had that to look forward to, he though glumly, as he batted away a blue balloon.
Everything had been so perfect and still the Weasleys wouldn’t come, wouldn’t forget, wouldn’t forgive a transgression that never really was. Not even Gabrielle, who would occasionally send him a letter of a few words at Yule and Beltane, managed to come or send a note of apology.
Smiling sadly to himself, he thought back to all the changes that had occurred to his family-that-once-was since the break. Ron had married Gabrielle and even had a child on the way, a little brother or sister for Rose and Hugo. From what he’d heard through the Hogwarts grapevine—which primarily consisted of Professor Longbottom speaking to other professors when students were about—the child was most likely a girl, and Gabrielle wanted to name her Violette.
Davies had over the past year quietly divorced Ginny, taking half of her assets and their son Lance in a private legal dispute that had the Daily Prophet guessing as to the reason. Ginny had retired early from Quidditch, having been offered a job as the paper’s sports correspondent, but still the rumors did not die down.
In the one interview she gave, she stated that she was surprised that the marriage had lasted so long as her heart had always belonged to her first love. The accompanying photo showed her radiant, however, and Teddy really doubted the truth of her words unless the interview was an attempt to get his Prongslet back.
Sadly for Ginny, it didn’t work.
Hermione Granger was devoted to her causes, overturning laws against house elves and various other magical creatures. She hadn’t touched the issue of werewolf status, but a bright young wizard who graduated a few years after her had taken up the cause and had written in a special law giving natural born wolves who did not transform under the full moon full human status, while protecting their right to mate as soon as they hit puberty, as long as the marriage was consensual. There even was a clause that protected ‘Lupines’ from family members and friends who might try to prevent or wouldn’t recognize such a marriage.
Harry and the Malfoys, with their joint fortune and names, had pushed it through the Wizengamut and it had been signed into law on Teddy’s eighteenth birthday in his honor. It was even called the Lupin Clause.
Gram had been admitted about six months before to St. Mungo’s and treated for Alzheimer’s Disease with several new potions, that minimized the effect, but she still did not contact him or respond to any of his letters. On the anniversary of his parents’ death, he would sometimes see her in the family graveyard, laying flowers on his mother and grandfather’s grave, before she would quickly walk away. He’d taken to bringing two bunches of flowers for his dad, one from himself and another from his mate’s only son.
Sometimes he wished he could move his father’s grave to Godric’s Hollow, where he felt it belonged, but he couldn’t do that to his mum or see the pain on his Prongslet’s face if he suggested it.
He knew his mate got nightmares about the letter—about the possibilities. Although extremely rare, it wasn’t impossible for a pureblood wizard to carry a child, and there was no evidence to prove that Lily Potter gave birth to Harry. Everyone they were close to was dead or knew nothing.
When Teddy had been home for summer the previous year, he had found hidden all the pictures Prongslet could find of his parents in his search for visual confirmation that his mother gave birth to him, but none of them showed her in that state. They had gone into hiding briefly at the end of Lily’s pregnancy, and no pictures had been taken.
It haunted him, haunted them both, but Teddy would quietly nuzzle him at night and remind him that a wolf could never mate with his sibling, which would calm his Prongslet down for a few more months.
“It doesn’t matter,” a voice from the doorway said quietly and Teddy spun around to see his Prongslet leaning against the frame. “None of them matter.”
Teddy nodded his head absently and watched as Harry walked toward him, two perfectly wrapped gifts in his hand.
“One for being Head Boy and another for graduating top of your class and setting new records. Now come, Moonlet,” he whispered as he pressed a soft kiss on his lips. “Let’s celebrate.”
He smiled into the kiss and brushed their noses together gently, remembering the first time he had daringly wolf-kissed his Prongslet.
They settled down in a plush chair together and Harry summoned two glasses and poured sparkling champagne into them, his eyes never leaving Teddy’s graceful form.
“Did I ever tell you how sensual I think you are?” he murmured into Teddy’s ear, nipping it lightly and then licking the hurt, Teddy arching into the wolfish affection that his mate had adopted over the years.
They drank the champagne together and then began to feed each other strawberries and sponge cake, licking at each other’s faces and kissing one another lightly, lost in the pleasure of it all.
“All grown up,” his Prongslet murmured and Teddy grinned at him before briefly caressing his trapped arousal. “Yes,” he hissed, baring his neck for Teddy to bite again. “Moons.”
Teddy leaned forward and bit harshly against the raw skin that had never healed, not even when he spent months away at Hogwarts, the taste of blood mixing headily with wine and strawberries.
His hands continued to stroke his mate through his clothing, his own body arching into his Prongslet’s frame as he pleasured him until with a shout he brought Harry to completion.
“Hmm,” he sighed, nuzzling the moist mark. “What a nice graduation present.”
His Prongslet laughed slightly, his tired body forming a warm cocoon around Teddy. “Oh, that wasn’t your present.”
“I still liked it,” Teddy whispered huskily back, trailing his nose up the line of his mate’s neck and into his raven colored hair, taking in the scent that was so comforting and arousing.
“Which would you like first?” Harry gasped as a warm tongue began to stroke his earlobe.
The two gifts soared through the air as they were summoned magically and Teddy drew away, grabbing the more opulent package. Tearing at the paper, he gasped when he saw the beautiful erotic image on the cover. “Are you certain this is a fairytale?”
“A modern one,” Harry conceded, “and it might be ballet.”
Teddy snorted lightly before opening up the book, pictures of a faun dancing erotically among nymphs, attempting to woo them, fluttering across the page. “It’s beautiful.” He turned and nipped his mate’s nose. “So beautiful. Thank you.”
Reverently, Teddy laid the book down beside them and took the thin legal-sized envelope in his hand. “What’s this?”
Green eyes sparkled mischievously. “Something I can now give you now you’re of age and out of Hogwarts.”
Teddy’s eyes narrowed in suspicion before he hastily opened the silver envelope and gasped as he pulled out the magical contract. “Is this for real?”
“Yes,” Prongslet breathed against his neck, nipping it slightly, though not hard enough to mark it.
“This is possible—even though—?”
“You’re human, Moonlet,” Harry confirmed. “We can legally join the albeit short cue to adopt a magical orphan. We can even choose age range, gender, and blood status.” His lips twisted at the last statement, clearly displeased that someone would discriminate against a child for one of those reasons.
Teddy smiled brightly before leaning down and capturing his mate’s lips in a hungry kiss. “A family, a pack,” he breathed. “Our family.”
Champagne drowned senses clashed with elation, and soon hands were fumbling at clothes, pulling, tearing, a promise of a new life and child driving their passion.
As evening set, fairy lights blinked into existence, casting shadows on Teddy’s pale skin that gracefully moved against his mate beneath him.
A storybook—a fairytale—lay open near the entwined fingers, the beautifully drawn faun dancing dejected in the final frame all alone.