Author's Note:

Sorry for the delay – my word processor decided at 1am last night to start crashing after every half paragraph or so and I lost a lot of the original chapter :( I've re-written it though and here we are! :D

This chapter starts about 7 months after the last chapter and this is the end of Auribus Teneo Lupum but not this story: I intend to write a short sequel that will probably cover Harry's and Fenrir's issues of expanding their family and also show a bit of Draco and Echo. I'm going to take a few weeks off to brainstorm and plan for that story – about a month should be enough. I still wanted to address quite a few things that didn't fit in this story and if anyone wants to put forth some suggestions of what they'd like to see in the sequel please do so – I'd like to hear your thoughts!

But as for this current story, it's done. Not so sad as there will be a sequel soon so I don't feel like I'm saying goodbye to these guys or to you all just yet. Still – thank you so much for the phenomenal support you've all given me throughout. I can't believe this was a story I started so long ago and never had the courage to post, because you've all enjoyed reading and getting lost with the characters as much as me. You've made this a real thrill and I want to thank everyone of you for sharing this with me.

This chapter is dedicated to all of you.

.: Chapter Twenty-Seven :.

The Gift

CHOSEN ONE RETURNS?

After months of nothing more than rumour since the discovery of Harry Potter's 'farewell' letter to the wizarding world, the Boy Who Lived, 18, appeared before the Wizengamot yesterday to fight for the rights of werewolves in our community. His appearance, it seemed sealed the deal as after seven months of fighting, the Werewolf Rights Act was passed.

This Act has had numerous names behind it, from our very own saviour to Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt himself! The movement has been closely followed, giving werewolves the right to equal work and education placements, as well as civil rights including those against discrimination (see full copy of Act on page 4).

Harry Potter stopped to give a short statement after the hearing, during which he stated that he "couldn't be happier" with the way everything went, as well as his life now. It seems that since he departed the wizarding world with nothing more than a short letter discovered at St Mungo's (where he had been recuperating from his encounter with the Dark Lord), he has been enjoying life with his new 'family'. "I live with Fenrir, of course," he'd said when asked, seeming perfectly confused at the question of where he was residing now. "And our son. We live with a large family unit, including a close friend of my father's, Remus Lupin and his family. It's wonderful to be surrounded by family, especially being an orphan and all."

Potter was not accompanied by his partner Fenrir Greyback at this time, however. He'd merely given a wistful smile and admitted that he had preferred to stay home with their son, Kirian Potter-Greyback, now seven months old. When asked when we might get a glimpse of his son in the public eye, or if he'd be willing to do an interview on his parenthood, he had offered only that "it's hard, being a dad at 18. I'm still growing up myself. But he's by far the best thing that's ever happened to me." He'd refused to comment on his young son further.

When asked if his appearance here meant his return to the wizarding world, Potter had said that he "pops out often" to Diagon Alley or to visit friends, to see the places he wants to see, but he always returns home.

Alongside close friends Hermione Granger, 19 and Ronald Weasley, 19, Harry Potter said that he was immensely pleased with the passing of the law that would enable werewolves to live among the community with as much rights as everyone else. He says he hopes this will mean not only a better future for his son and godson, Edward Remus Lupin, 1, but also hopefully a foundation on which other magical beings can live the lives prejudice has prevented them from enjoying up until now.

He commented briefly on the scandal of January this year, where it came to light that an unsanctioned operation called The Hunt run by certain powerful members of the community, had unlawfully 'culled' werewolves like infected cattle decades ago. Potter insisted that this type of horrific occurrence only occurs when people are afraid of others who are 'different' and that the only way to show them they can all live together is to make them live together, without prejudice or unfair laws. He says that he cannot take the full credit for the success of the campaign and gestures to the two beside him, insisting that he couldn't have done it without them, or without Severus Tobias Snape, 39, his family and of course his mentor and now Managing Director of the Civil Rights for Magical Beings department at the Ministry of Magic, Remus John Lupin, 39.

Lupin, a classic example of how a werewolf can live his life as normal, resides in the same rural location as Harry Potter and apparates every day into work, where he continues to fight for equality for all...(continued on page 3).

Setting down the Daily Prophet in favour of sipping at her favourite blend of cranberry and apple tea, Minerva McGonagall stared at the picture that dominated the front page. Harry Potter wasn't her most intelligent or her most stupid student, he wasn't the most eye-catching or ambitious, but he certainly was the most remarkable. He has overcome so much, she thought proudly, sitting back in her chair and staring at the photograph of Harry standing between his two best friends, looking happy and healthier than she had ever seen him. She saw him frequently when he popped by the castle to continue his project with Severus, of course, and she'd seen little Kirian a few times as well.

"I'm so proud of him," she said aloud to the portraits lining the walls of the Headmistress' office, one portrait in particular. She glanced up to see Albus Dumbledore nodding with a soft smile touching his lips.

"He has surpassed my expectations and in spite all odds, grown into such a strong, kind-hearted young man, Minerva. I hope you will invite him to tea soon," Albus said thoughtfully.

Minerva nodded. "I shall try and coerce him away from Severus' lab on his next visit," she said, lifting her quill and dipping it into the ink well. She stared for a few moments at the most recent page of the thick, leather-bound book that was the Hogwarts' student roster. Already the names for future years were being added and it was with a peculiar little smile that she added to the list: Potter-Greyback, Kirian. She had no idea what Potter or indeed Greyback hoped for their son, but wasn't this whole campaign of theirs to give werewolves the choice?

They or their son can decide when the time comes, she thought, satisfied. The world was still changing and would change a great deal more by the time Kirian Potter-Greyback came of age to join Hogwarts – if indeed he ever wanted to. But whatever happened, it would be a decision he could make without fear of torment or discrimination. And whatever the world became, it seemed only to be getting brighter.

Harry winced as he slid the knife down over the moth wings a little too quickly, meaning that the slice was a little too big compared to the others. He glanced up and sure enough, Snape was glowering at him. Before the man could open his mouth, however, Harry straightened. "Look, you were the one that said I needed to make myself useful," he said firmly. He wasn't a student anymore and this man wasn't his teacher. They were a team now, whether the git wanted to admit it or not. They had come to a place of understanding since Snape had had to tell him his fate in the battle with Voldemort, but still, sometimes old habits died hard.

Ghost, who sat at his feet and now rarely left his side, cocked his head in sympathy and wagged his tail slightly.

"Do tear that diminutive mind of yours from your romps in the forest with Greyback while in this room," Snape said drolly, "surely you realise what a sensitive potion this is?"

Harry flushed but it did not diminish his glare at all. "My hand just slipped. Excuse me if they aren't as dainty as Draco's."

Draco, who had been leaning on his elbows on the opposite side of the potions bench, reading out their transcribed instructions, glanced up quickly. "Steady on there, no need to drag me into your bickering." He seemed to think about it then and he sat up a little straighter. "And my hands are refined, not dainty..."

Harry snorted but pushed aside the too-thick slice of moth wing and continued with his work. He felt Snape's eyes on him for a few more minutes and deliberately glanced up. Their eyes locked and he thought he saw the flickers of a smirk play along that hard mouth, before the man continued with stirring the simmering potion in the clear crystal cauldron, adding in ground up dragons claws every sixth stir.

"And on the fiftieth stir, stir in the rest of the powder and the sliced moth wings," Draco read aloud from the parchment their transcribed instructions were written on. Snape nodded, doing so. This had been their ritual for the last few months now. The three of them had produced many failed batches – some that had even exploded with only the slightest misinterpretation of the Original Witch's vague poetry. But Harry just had a feeling about this one. He brushed the finely sliced wings into the bowl and slid it toward Snape, who added them as per Draco's instructions.

"Are you ready for your part, Mr Potter?" Severus asked after a moment, and stepped slightly to the side to make room for Harry. They'd only gotten to this stage twice before and Harry felt a little thrill of anticipation as he accepted the sterilised knife from Snape's hand and pressed the razor edge into his fingertip. He winced at the sharp sting and hastily flicked three drops into the cauldron before his flesh healed.

The concoction sizzled as his blood hit the surface, bubbling dangerously. He stepped back, remembering the argument he'd had with Fenrir the last time the potion had literally exploded in his face. This time, however, the brown water effervesced and turned the most vibrant emerald green. The colour of Kirian's eyes. Harry stared at it as it glowed, like a cauldron of Avada Kedavra. Snape and Draco were painted with the light too and as mesmerised by it as he. Ghost stood, hastily edging back, ears pricked in interest.

"Add the crushed butterfly cocoons, quickly!" Snape hissed to Draco, who had already snatched up the vial and was sprinkling the rough powder into the potion. Severus gave it three long, wide stirs and withdrew the crystal rod entirely, setting it down and stepping back to stand beside Harry. Draco pushed away from his seat and did so as well and as one they watched the light and liquid merge into a vibrant forest green.

"The colour of fertility," Draco murmured slowly, voice soft with awe. "That's it. It's done. It's ready."

Severus stepped forward, setting the charm to slowly kill the heat so as not to cool the potion too quickly. With a flick of his wand, he cast the necessary protection charms and then turned to Harry and Draco. "Now it must mature for seven days. It should be ready for an attempt at the first ritual on the next full moon," he said thoughtfully.

"Attempt?" Draco asked, bemused. "You think we can fail now? The potion was the hardest bit, we've done it. The ritual itself will be easy." He was cocky, confident but Harry thought he just might be right. If they'd got this far, then...

"There won't be the same problem with the rogues again," Harry said thoughtfully, remembering all those werewolves that had challenged Fenrir for him in their desperation to have children and their belief that he was their only hope. They'd gone the entirely wrong way about it, of course, but they had still died because of him. Ulric had died because of that and the aching knowledge would ease but never truly fade. Wizards had made werewolves like this, making them desperate and turn on each other.

Well, now a wizard is putting it right – three, in fact, he thought, determined. "Soon anyone who falls in love with a werewolf can have the same ability as me."

Snape scoffed. At the odd sound, Ghost lifted his head and butted it promptly against the man's long potion-stained fingers. Surprised, Snape froze for a moment, before letting his palm stroke the soft furry head. "Are you going to make them pledge their undying love before you, so you know you can change them without ramifications?" Snape drawled, "some werewolves may force this upon humans, some may go into this without really thinking about the future..." The look he gave Draco made Draco scowl. Apparently Snape didn't know Draco wasn't planning on undergoing the ritual – or at least, he was but Echo had convinced him to wait a while. Harry only knew because Echo had told him when Harry had asked if Draco would be the first to try it.

"I know there will be problems, I'm not saying there won't be," Harry said, sliding onto the work-stool behind him. "I know there will be people who take advantage of it. But that doesn't mean the good people shouldn't be able to be with the one they love." He saw Snape make a peculiar face at that and all too quickly the man turned and started tidying away the apparatus they'd been using.

"How will the mighty Potter distinguish between the liars and the lovers?" Snape asked bitterly.

Harry glanced to Draco, who was thumbing through one of the Original Witch's books leisurely, apparently unconcerned with their tiff. "The ritual can only be committed in good faith," the blond said without looking up. "The participant cannot take in the 'blessing' if they are tainted with force or hesitancy. It says so in the texts." He did look up then, pinning both Harry and Snape with a withering stare. "I thought we'd all read these books. Was I the only one paying attention?"

To Harry's amusement, Snape cleared his throat in annoyance and started putting things away with much more noise than was necessary. Harry thought he heard the man mutter something about getting 'infuriating ex-students' out of his hair and laughed inwardly, sliding off his stool to start washing the apparatus in the sink moulded into the work bench, as he'd done on so many detentions beforehand. The familiarity of the situation must have struck Snape as well because he paused to look.

"Don't worry, Sir, even when the potion is done you'll have to make more," Harry mused. "We'll be back often."

"And even then, I'm sure we can find something else to come and pester you about," Draco added as he stacked the parchment and books neatly to one side of the bench. "I'm sure we can think of something to come and annoy you with."

Harry thought he saw the beginnings of a smile touching the hard line of Snape's mouth. It was brief but definitely there.

The sound of the floo chiming cut through the room and Draco pushed away from the bench. "I'll answer it," he offered, striding across the lab and through the adjoining door to Snape's office. Harry scrubbed at the pestles and bowls until they were clean, then spelled them dry and sent them whizzing back into the corners of the room they belonged in. When he looked at Snape, he saw the man watching him thoughtfully.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Only surprised that you were paying attention to where they went," Snape admitted, avoiding Harry's gaze by busying himself checking the wards around the slowly cooling clear crystal cauldron. "You realise what this potion could mean for Lupin and his family too, of course?"

Harry nodded tightly. He'd learned from Eithne how serious Remus' original fears had been when he'd come to Harry, terrified because Tonks was pregnant. He grit his teeth on recalling how easily he'd dismissed Remus' fears as cowardice before, knowing the man had long since forgiven him and that it'd all turned out right in the end. Werewolves could not beget live young with a human. The werewolf foetus, sharing its blood with the mother would unwittingly infect the mother with lycanthropy, causing her to turn and transform at the next full moon – effectively killing the unborn child. That Teddy had not been a werewolf was a miracle, a one in a million chance that Eithne had suggested was possible only by the potent wolfsbane in Remus' body, subduing the lycanthropy.

"I think Tonks is one of the people taking the potion this moon," Harry said, drying his hands. "If she and Remus were to have another child, even if he were still taking wolfsbane, she would risk becoming a wolf and miscarrying." He propped his chin on his hands and stared at the soothing green glow from the cauldron. The mix was becoming a more translucent green as it cooled – but no less vibrant. He hoped that meant it was definitely going to work.

"Did I tell you we found out Teddy has the recessive gene, like me? He scraped his knee in the village the other day and Fenrir smelt it. Kirian did too – it was quite sweet, actually," he smiled as he remembered his little bludger's nose wrinkling softly as he sniffed at Teddy's unwittingly spilled blood. "When he's older, if he chooses to be bitten, he'll awaken like me. Tonks and Remus want to keep it quiet at the moment though, I think they're still a little shocked at the revelation. They want him to choose for himself too."

"Ah," Snape said softly, "the choice your wolf never gave you?"

Harry bristled. "That's not fair," he replied, slightly wounded, though somehow he knew Snape's comment wasn't born out of malice but his own variety of concern. "We all know it was a selfish, thoughtless thing to do. But you know a man can't undo his mistakes, only make amends."

Snape's coal-black eyes turned to him slowly, assessing, looking surprised to find an eighteen-year-old standing there rather than the scrawny first year fresh from the cupboard under the stairs. "Wise words, perhaps," he offered. "Ones I may have dismissed for those of a prisoner but sometimes it seems more likely that Fenrir Greyback is a prisoner of yours. He seems to surrender his will to you more often than the other way round."

Harry flushed, a little uncomfortable at the implication that people made often, partly because it was at least half true. Fenrir didn't like a lot of the things Harry did, like coming out into the wizarding world, visiting Snape or Diagon Alley, but he never tried to stop him. Harry couldn't even say that Fenrir 'let' him go because he didn't 'let' Harry do anything. There wasn't ownership or the need for permission. They just worked, despite all odds and Fenrir accepted that sometimes Harry wanted to head out into the world with his friends, because he always came home to him.

"Pray tell, what will you do with yourself in terms of a career?" Snape began with a clearer, more familiar voice. "I realise you are a gentleman of leisure with his arms full of squalling child at the moment but what about when he has grown? Because I can tell you now, Potter, I shall not be recommending you to study under any Potions Masters."

"No worries there, Sir," Harry laughed. "I'm not sure what I'll do. Remus has a full time job and returns every day, and Draco intends to do the same as soon as his name finishes being cleared with the Ministry. So I could easily do it as well. I can do whatever I want. If when Kirian is grown up I want to open a sweet shop in Diagon Alley or join the aurors, I can try whatever I like. Right now I'm happy just...you know, living."

Snape wrinkled his large nose. "Minerva suggested she might invite you to teach here once your brood has grown."

Harry grinned. "If only to get under your feet, Professor. Maybe I'll apply to be your assistant?"

Snape snorted in answer and reached down to scratch Ghost's ears absently. The wolf wagged his tail and slumped into Snape's leg at the touch, enjoying the fuss, now fully grown and filled out, nothing like the scrawny runt he'd been when Harry had first met him nearly a year ago. He seemed to like Snape too, which was just funny, especially as Snape had tried very hard not to like him and was being slowly won over.

"Sir," Harry said after a while, wondering who it'd been in the fire and what was taking Draco so long, but not wanting to waste this moment now he had it. "I just…I never told you. I never would've had the courage to face Voldemort if it hadn't been for you. And all the times you saved my life even though you hated me. Everything you've given up all these years just to get rid of him – more than anyone else has given and..." He grit his teeth, embarrassed and flustered and not knowing how to express his words, as ever. "You're the bravest man I've ever known. Thank you, for everything."

Snape's fingers froze on Ghost's head as he stared at Harry's face, as if gauging if he were telling the truth or not. The awkward suspended silence hung between them for a moment, until: "I do not hate you, Potter. I hated your father. You were an annoying student in your own right and a constant reminder of my failures but I did not hate you then and I do not hate you now."

Harry winced. "Not even when I looked into your pensieve?" He instantly regretted his words when he saw the darkness of that night touch Snape's eyes. "I am sorry for that, Sir. More than you can know. And my Dad...he was a bullying prick back then, I was...I was ashamed to see him like that. I'm sorry." He spoke fast and clumsily. But the words needed to be said, even if they were awkward and cost him a bit of pride. Snape deserved that much and more.

Dying, coming back, growing older, having a child, perhaps they were things he had to undergo before he could realise that, but he did now. Some things were more valuable than pride. He licked his dry lips. "My mother was–"

"Do not speak of that memory," Snape hissed, teeth bared in a mixture of anguish and rage. "It is one I wish I could wipe from my mind and yours. Do not speak of it ever again, am I clear?"

Harry swallowed, nodding hard, feeling fifteen again all of a sudden, desperate not to lose the understanding he and Snape had come to in the last few months. "Yes. But I am sorry, Sir. For what they did, for what I did. All of it."

Another silence, this one more strained than the last and with Snape now unable to meet his eyes, instead staring at the entirely translucent forest green liquid in the crystal cauldron. Snape extinguished the fire beneath completely now and added the final protection spell around the cauldron and its contents. "I accept your apology. But you should know that your mother was an exceptional witch and a…a kind woman. She did not deserve to be addressed with the name I threw at her in anger." Snape shifted uneasily then, as if he wished he could call the words back, he glanced quickly at Harry, then to the door Draco had vanished through.

"Sir," Harry said tentatively. "I...I never realised you knew my mum all that well." He'd assumed they'd been passing acquaintances at school the way he'd been to some of his classmates. Sirius and Remus had always regaled him with tales of his father, Dumbledore had mentioned his father too as had many of his teachers. So few ever mentioned his mother though, except perhaps Remus once or twice. It was oddly comforting to know someone else knew her, that she wasn't forgotten.

"I shall...tell you about her some time, perhaps," Snape said in an oddly wistful tone, the words sounding as if they were difficult to get out. At last black eyes locked on green again and Harry saw their understanding back again. The two of them were probably the only ones who knew what the other had suffered over the years, in the war and at Dumbledore's side. Only them and that was the foundation of what Harry hoped would be more than understanding. He admired Snape very much, even if he was a git and felt an odd compassion for him, a connection he didn't want to break. Judging by the fact that Snape tolerated him and Draco turning up every week, he thought the man might feel the same.

Realising then that he'd seen that look on Snape's face once before, Harry frowned. In the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, when he'd been about to leave and seen Harry standing there, holding Kirian. When he'd approached him as if caught in a trance and…

"You have your mother's eyes. Both of you do. You are more like her than Potter, no matter what they say..."

"He has auburn in his hair, I think he'll take after mum."

"Good."

Those words. The doe in the lake that Harry knew now, thanks to Hermione, had been Snape's patronus. Harry had thought he'd known before but he was certain of it now. Snape. After all this time he…

"I'd like that, Sir," Harry said at last and gave the man a small smile, just as the door opened fully and Draco stepped back in.

"It was Eithne, Kirian is fussing for you," he said and Harry nodded. He'd gotten better at leaving Kirian with Eithne, Draco or Fenrir, he also let Larentia babysit often, as it seemed to make her so happy and Kirian loved her. It was still hard to leave him alone for any length of time, the absence filling him with a feeling akin to homesickness. And worry of course, especially now the little bludger was mobile on his chubby little hands and knees.

"Come Ghost," Harry said as he crossed the room, looking back at Snape when he reached the door. "Thank you, Sir. We'll see you next week."

Snape gave a small nod, his face impassive as ever but the hard line of his mouth twitching slightly at the corners in a telltale manner.

Harry was greeted by tearless cries as he stumbled out of the fireplace in Eithne's cottage and nearly collided with Draco and Ghost, who'd gone through first. Draco rolled his eyes and drew his wand, banishing the thick cover of soot that always accompanied Harry out of the fireplace. "Whatever did you do before you had me to tidy up after you, Potter?" Draco taunted as haughtily as ever, smirking and tipping his head respectfully at Eithne before sweeping out of the cottage.

Eithne was on the settee in front of the fire, Kirian sitting on her knee and fussing, rubbing at his eyes and grizzling in that way that wasn't really crying. "Sorry, has he been bad?" Harry asked, always uncertain how other people judged 'bad' behaviour with children after being labelled bad throughout his childhood. Fenrir had said that he often judged Kirian the other way, too good, in everything, even when he was being 'a little shit' as Fenrir said. It was still a learning process, but he, Kirian and Fenrir were learning together.

"Oh no," Eithne said brightly, staring at her great-grandson with adoration, stroking his mess of dark auburn hair that stuck up at all angles. Kirian looked up at Harry's voice, sniffing visibly with little nostrils and opening his arms up, doing a little jiggle on Eithne's lap in excitement. It was a beautiful sight, to see him so happy to see Harry, giving a gummy smile.

"Hey," Harry said, stepping forward and sweeping Kirian up into his arms, revelling in the shriek of delight that the little seven month old gave. Ghost licked at those tiny toes in greeting and Harry watched as Kirian babbled at him, then started to chew on his fist. "Is that so?" Harry asked, as if he'd said something completely understandable.

"He's certain to cut a tooth soon, he's quite warm," Eithne said. "Be prepared for the tantrums. You'll have a shock, I'm afraid, after having such a content little baby."

"Fenrir says I pander to him too much," Harry said lightly, wiping Kirian's dummy off and popping it back in his mouth.

Eithne rolled her eyes. "A little fuss at this age won't do him any harm. Interaction is important at this age, Fenrir is just focussed on being the 'perfect' father compared to his parents. He was a fair bit older than his siblings and used to boss them around a lot."

Harry nodded, understanding. He wondered how much his poor upbringing and his lack of parents affected how he interacted with Kirian. As if sensing the melancholy direction of his thoughts, Kirian reached out and tried to snag hold of Harry's glasses. "No no," Harry insisted, unwinding determined little fingers from his thankfully durable frames and holding Kirian a bit lower in his arms. "Were you able to keep up with him, with him starting to crawl?"

Eithne raised her silvery-white eyebrows in an expression that Fenrir gave sometimes. "I'm not dead yet, Harry. Even witches with no werewolf in them can live for a long time."

Harry sensed the playfulness in her aged voice and smiled. He had no idea how old she was, but the thought she'd be around for many years yet was a good one. He'd like Kirian to have memories of her he could hold onto. That little fist knotted in his shirt then, in a way Harry recognised and he blushed slightly, clearing his throat. "That's my cue to go," he said, pausing for Eithne to kiss Kirian's forehead and pat him on the shoulder before he and Ghost stepped out into the late afternoon sunshine.

"Where's your alpha then?" Harry asked Kirian, who was always excited at the strange smells and bustling business of the village. His little head swivelled round at every shriek of laughter from the playing children or noise of the chickens that pecked around at the ground as they walked. Harry's watched those tiny nostrils twitching as he sniffed at the world around them, already trying to learn every scent. Harry could recognise scents but he wasn't born with them, a master of them the way Fenrir was, the way Kirian would be – at one with himself, his wolf, with nature.

It was as if the horror of his first few days of life had never been – Kirian was always smiling and giggling and captivating the attention of everyone who saw him. It was a nice feeling, one that filled Harry with hope. "I think I'll take you to see Snape again soon," Harry said to his son, using a softer, lighter voice but not one infused with babyish babbling, not that there was anything wrong with that – Tonks and Hermione used it all the time. He just didn't think he'd ever be capable of it.

The three of them found Fenrir by the well. He had his back to them at they approached, hunched over the bucket of water he'd pulled from its depths and plunging large hands into it to wash his face and neck from dirt. Harry stopped a few feet away just as Fenrir straightened up, upending the entire half-bucket over his head so that the water caught the sun, glistening orange and pink in the afternoon light before splashing down across tight, hard muscle.

Harry felt something down low in his belly tighten and he was frozen for a moment, chasing the rivulets of water down Fenrir's body with his eyes. Down over taut skin still bearing the marks of the battle with Voldemort, the silver spear that had pierced his side, the skin pale and stark against the rest of his tan skin. But all his. All of him. It was a nice feeling, one that carried through even as he realised Fenrir had noticed him staring and was now grinning in amusement.

Closing the distance between them, Harry lifted his chin in defiance, daring Fenrir to tease him. "Finishing displaying?" he taunted lightly, getting in there first.

Fenrir's grin broadened. "I don't need to display, pet, I've already won you," he said gruffly, setting the bucket down and reaching out with a wet hand to cup Harry's throat, pulling him in close and resting his nose against the bridge of Harry's. They rested there for a moment, both inhaling each other as if it were both the first and last time. Always. Harry reached up to rest his free hand against the marked side of Fenrir's neck in response, feeling the low grumble of appreciation under his fingers.

"You ready to go?" Fenrir asked after a moment, "Kirian must be hungry by now."

Slightly flushed, Harry nodded, but as they started walking back to Eithne's cottage to use the floo to get home, Harry paused, staring at the forest that bordered the village. Not Shae, but the other one. The one Harry had fled through on a full moon night trying to escape Fenrir. Back when this had all begun. Harry blinked at the sight of it, having seen it many times but only not just appreciating how different everything was, clear of the fog that had surrounded everything.

"Harry?" Fenrir said, "alright?"

"Can we walk for a bit?" Harry replied, gesturing to the forest. The look on Fenrir's face told him that he knew the significance of that request, of the place. Kirian's gazed fixed on the tassel on Harry's hoodie and he babbled as he pulled at it, trying to shove it in his mouth as they walked. As always a few villagers waved and greeted them as they walked, friendly and warm and Harry even saw Andromeda stooped in front of the recently finished Lupin house, trowel in hand in the flowerbeds, with a messy Teddy trying desperately to help.

Teddy, who had been unable to enjoy going outside as much as he should have, due to the war, was now unstoppable and would wail loudly when it was too dark to play. He'd even come up to the valley a few times now to play with the pack children, which was nice for everyone.

"He's going to start teething soon," Fenrir grumbled warily as they reached the edge of the village and walked into the covering of trees. The waning sun glistened on the leaves, through the gaps in them to paint the forest below in warm, welcoming colours. Ghost dashed through the grass, spinning round and zooming back to their side when they took too long to reach where he stood, before zipping off again, holding Kirian's attention gleefully as he ran. Harry glanced up at Fenrir's wary tone and realised that he'd likely had to be on hand to help with his teething siblings in the past.

"I forget how much more experienced you are than me," Harry said thoughtfully, watching as Kirian managed to take hold of his dummy and pull it out so that he had better chance of shoving his whole fist in – hoodie tassel and all. Fenrir's hand shot forward, catching the falling pacifier before it hit the dirty ground. They'd had that tantrum enough times to not want another.

"I should listen to you more, I s'pose," Harry added, because they still clashed sometimes, of course they did, they were both hot-headed and bad-tempered and neither of them liked to be wrong. Even if Harry was comfortable now as a dad, he supposed there were sometimes he should really listen to Fenrir on, he'd seen it all before, after all.

Fenrir smirked, brushing his knuckles against Harry's hip affectionately as they walked the thin stream that ran through the forest. The same stream that Fenrir had mated Harry in a year ago. "Where would be the fun in that?" Fenrir mused roughly. "I like it when we clash." He wore the most devilish grin that Harry felt heat suffuse his face with colour.

"Because of the sex that inevitably follows?" he asked, pleased when he didn't sound embarrassed. But Fenrir was still grinning, gripping his arm and pulling him and Kirian close so that the dampness from his chest and arms saturated their clothes. Harry didn't mind much and Kirian didn't ever seem to mind much of anything – everyone always commented on how content he was, he hoped that was a sign he wasn't a completely useless parent. Fenrir told him it was.

Fenrir's eyes were bright with late afternoon sun and staring down at him, hand sliding back to cup his neck and coax his head back with large fingers knotted into Harry's hair. "Because you push me to be a better man," he said, voice low and rough as ever, warm. His mouth twisted back into a smirk then. "and the sex."

Harry rolled his eyes and stepped back out of Fenrir's arms to walk over to the riverbank, the place where the grassy earth jutted out over the stream to form a small ledge – a ledge Harry remembered being vividly pinned to while he'd…

"Harry," Fenrir said again, but his tone wasn't questioning this time, he knew what was flickering through Harry's head, or at least the feelings that were because he could sense it. He stared at Harry thoughtfully, uncertain as he looked around them, recognising the place as well as Harry did. "This is…"

Harry nodded and licked his dry lips, staring down at his reflection in the stream as he edged closer to the ledge. He looked exactly the same as he'd done on that night – if a bit healthier, better fed and his eyes not so big in his face, gaunt from starvation, torture and concern. He looked the same but he felt different. Stronger, more confident, powerful. If Conall or the others were alive to swan in here now he could desecrate them before they touched him. He could uproot the trees and turn them on end without a wand and yes, if he wanted to, he could bring Fenrir to his knees without needing to use magic.

"This is where we mated," Fenrir said when Harry didn't speak, coming to stand beside him so that Harry saw his reflection too, just as unchanged, but yet different. Fenrir had grown too, yet he looked uncertain now, faced with the memories of their unsteady beginnings. He may have been bigger, stronger, older, but oddly enough Harry had the power between them, because Fenrir loved him and if Harry had wanted it, he would have let him go.

"This is where I chose you," Harry clarified, "remember?" It'd been Fenrir that had insisted that Harry had chosen him back then, had tried to make Harry understand that the wolf in him wasn't another conscience or being. It was Harry. It was his desires and choices without any mortal inhibitions. Harry knew that now, but it seemed in the light of human love, Fenrir had forgotten, or at least, thought Harry had forgotten.

Fenrir watched on as Harry set a wriggly Kirian down on the bank beside him. The boy blinked excitedly at the grass, wrenching up great handfuls as he hauled himself forward onto his hands and knees. He was unsteady but determined and it was a joy to watch as he rocked back and forth on his knees, all while Harry pulled off his hoodie and trousers, shoes and socks.

"What're you doing?" Fenrir asked, as Harry slid into the stream as naked as the day he was born. The water was cool as it lapped at Harry's stomach and he shuddered only briefly before the werewolf in him warmed his blood. He turned in the water and just smiled up at Fenrir, reaching across the bank to strip an excited Kirian of his onesie. Ghost gave him a look that clearly said he was mad and laid down contentedly on the bank, just watching.

"Come on, little bludger," Harry said, pulling his delighted baby toward him and letting his feet kick at the water's surface. Kirian squealed loudly, kicking faster and nearly clean out of Harry's grip – nearly. Harry wrapped both arms around him securely, Kirian's smile infecting his own expression as he glanced up and saw Fenrir staring down at them, head cocked to the side, pleased but still confused. Harry took pity on him, they neither of them knew how to express themselves still – that was something they were also learning together, step by step, just like parenthood.

"You never thought turning me was wrong before," Harry said, "You said it was your nature and that you couldn't fight it, that you couldn't apologise for doing what your instincts felt was right. Why has that changed?"

Fenrir slumped down on the jut of the riverbank and stared down at Kirian's blissful face as he now tried to squirm out of Harry's grasp to smack at the water with his hands. Harry had to hold him tighter, that was until he remembered he was a wizard and with a flick of his wrist, a buoyancy charm had Kirian bobbing on top of the water as if his entire upper body were supported by a rubber ring. He kicked out at the water excitedly as Harry hesitantly let him sink up to his chest in the water, and began to haphazardly paddle himself round and around Harry's waist.

Harry watched him for a moment, until he was certain the spell was true and Kirian wouldn't upend himself, then met those piercing blue eyes once more. They were so warm he forgot to breathe for a moment. Casting his glance back to Kirian, who wasn't strong enough to go anywhere except round and around at the river's edge, Harry stepped forward and rested both arms on the ledge, staring up at Fenrir, waiting.

"What I did wasn't wrong for werewolves," Fenrir said at last, voice like hot gravel. "It felt right, like what I'd been born to do but you weren't raised to believe the things I was, that's what makes it wrong."

Glancing back to Kirian again, who was kicking and punching the water, trying to catch it in his hands, Harry smiled and lifted his chin to Fenrir in obvious request. The man's brow furrowed but he leant down all the same, bringing their lips together in a slow, hesitant kiss. Harry moaned softly and wrapped his arms round the man's neck, pulling him closer and sliding his tongue out to coax Fenrir's mouth into firmer response. Only when their lips were wet with the other's spittle, tongues tingling with sensitivity did Harry draw back enough to look into that face again.

"It was wrong," Harry said. "I would've liked to have the choice back then, but you can't go back and undo your mistakes."

Fenrir winced. "Nothing I do now can make up for taking that choice away from you," he said roughly.

Harry smiled wistfully. "That's up for me to decide, isn't it?" No, just because they were happy now and everything had turned out alright in the end didn't make what Fenrir did alright, but it wasn't in Harry to go through life worrying that over and over until it drove him mad. "You gave me a choice when it counted," Harry said, not knowing what else to say to express his feelings on the matter. "Being happy now doesn't undo what you did, but being miserable and rehashing the same words over and over won't undo it either."

Fenrir seemed startled by the sense those words made and Harry scowled, pushing away from the ledge.

"Don't look so shocked. I am capable of intelligence, you know," he half-complained. There were some things in life you couldn't endure and not mature a little. At least Fenrir's chuckle was back at his words and the man was pushing off the loose shorts he'd been wearing to slide into the stream beside him. He glanced briefly to Harry then ducked down to his neck in the water, pushing Kirian forward in the water a little faster and making him screech delightedly.

Harry's head tipped back as he watched a few birds flee the nearby trees at the sheer volume of that sound. If Kirian was teething, he'd hear that voice raised in tantrums soon – he couldn't wait, he thought with a grimace, looking back to his odd little family. Something warm and intangible bubbled in his chest and he had to watch them for a moment, drink it in like the sun on his face. They were his and however things had begun, he had chosen them in the end.

Suddenly Fenrir froze, staring at something in the water in front of him and after a second, Kirian did too, green eyes wide and eager, little hands reaching forward just under the water. Uncertainty gnawed at Harry and he tensed. "What is it?" he asked quickly. "What's the matter?"

"Sssh!" Fenrir hissed and it was then that Harry slowly pulled himself up onto the ledge to see what was happening. A fish about the length of his hand with scales that glowed pure silver even from beneath the surface was swimming between Kirian's outstretched arms, apparently curious.

"What is it?" Harry asked, awed and nervous at the same time – even though he knew if it were dangerous, Fenrir wouldn't have let it near Kirian. It was a parental instinct, Harry supposed and not entirely unwelcome – it meant he was doing alright.

"Silver Scales," Fenrir explained, voice low, "they taste like shit but their scales are like dragon hide. They swim so fast you can barely see them but around April it's their mating season, so they're slower."

Harry watched as Fenrir tilted his head to watch Kirian's awed expression. The fish swam closer and Kirian's face lit up as it brushed against his belly. Then Fenrir was watching Harry too and smirking. "What?" Harry asked, amused at the expression.

"You've got the same expression of wonder as he does," Fenrir said affectionately and then the moment was lost as Kirian squealed happily, trying to grab the fish that promptly shot off in the other direction, spooked. Kirian whimpered then his lip trembled and Harry thought hearts would break at the sight of it. He wondered what type of adult his little bludger would become as he watched him turn into Fenrir's chest, upset at the loss of the pretty fish.

"Alright now," Fenrir consoled him, hauling him up into one arm as he moved back to the riverbank and hopped up beside Harry, feet hanging in the water still. "He's tired, it's been a long day."

Harry nodded, casting a drying charm on himself and Kirian, spelling the nappy clean and dressing the protesting baby quickly before pulling him close. Kirian protested for only a moment before latching onto him, fussing ceased and mouth hungrily swallowing. Harry winced a the slight ache. "Mmm, there's definitely a tooth there," he said warily, shifting slightly to get more comfortable as Kirian fed. It wasn't embarrassing to do it in front of Fenrir any longer – a long as the git didn't make any comments. It was most definitely still weird and made him feel…odd, he didn't think that feeling would ever go away but it didn't taint the closeness he felt with Kirian because of it and in his little bubble with Fenrir, it was alright.

"No biting that," Fenrir told his son gravely, brushing the corner of the embroidered baby blanket against Kirian's cheek. "That's my job."

Harry rolled his eyes but Kirian, for what it was worth, blinked big glassy green eyes up at Fenrir and sucked a little more softly. "Oh Merlin, you're going to be the parent that he listens to and I'm going to be the one he takes advantage of," Harry said, going with the arm that wrapped around his waist and pulled him in to rest against Fenrir's shoulder. He slid his feet down in the water, his shorter legs not reaching as far down but still enough to wet his feet again as he dragged his toes over Fenrir's calves.

"My Alpha was the soft one," Fenrir said thoughtfully, "my brothers and sister could get whatever they wanted out of him. My Dad was the one for discipline."

Harry listened quietly. It was still rare for Fenrir to talk about his family but it was getting easier. With time, he hoped Fenrir would be able to tell him and Kirian all about them – one day.

The sun was setting now, letting a small chill rush up Harry's bare back and he shivered. Kirian was steal feeding but more slowly now, evidently about to drift off.

"It's getting cold," Fenrir said, "We should head back."

Harry flicked his wrist once and warmth spread all around them, even to the little stretch of water just below their feet. He closed his eyes. "Let's just stay here for a bit longer," he said and after a moment, Fenrir gave a grunt of approval, hand sliding up from Harry's back to slide into his hair, massage at his scalp the way he did after they'd had sex sometimes. It was his way of cuddling, or showing affection and while it may not have suited everyone, Harry loved it.

"Blimey, Harry! You look–"

"Ruffled?" Hermione suggested quickly, cutting off the obvious direction of Ron's words. Harry wondered how bad he must look if they could see his just-fucked hair and flushed face through just his head in the fire – usually the flames hid those sort of things.

"Sorry," Harry said sheepishly, steadying himself on his knees on his side of the grate and running a hand through his hair to try and tame it. It was the full moon tonight and hormones and desires and instincts were running high. He hadn't forgotten Hermione and Ron were due to firecall but he'd forgotten to care as he'd practically pounced on Fenrir the moment Kirian had gone down for his pre-moon nap. "You sort of…well, you weren't interrupting but–"

"Please, too much information, mate," Ron grimaced. "I know you all get a bit randy over there before the full moon – I couldn't miss it after the last time and we accidently walked in on Malfoy and Echo…well, yeah, let's just say that image is permanently engraved into my skull."

"Thick as it is," Hermione muttured gently, "It's the ritual tonight, isn't it?" she said, steering the conversation back to safer ground. "Tonks is going to take it first, isn't she?"

Harry nodded. "Remus is comfortable now and she's just eager to make everything safe. I think they'd like to have another baby soon and…well, I think we always knew she'd be the first."

Hermione and Ron nodded. "And everything's all set?" Ron asked. "You're all prepared?"

"All set," Harry assured them. "I'll firecall you in the morning to let you know how it went, err…how does the time difference thing work again?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, clearly impatient – she'd told him about fifty times. "Harry," she sighed, "honestly. It's twelve hours. Firecall us at about nine or ten in the morning and it'll be our night time. We'll be here."

Harry nodded sheepishly. "Any luck finding them yet?" he asked, referring to her parents, the reason she and Ron were out in Australia in the first place. McGonagall had suggested that some of their memory may be recoverable if they acted quickly enough. Hermione's expression seemed bright, hopeful.

"They're here in Sydney, I think they're dentists here which is quite funny really – gives hope that they've not forgotten everything. Or at least that it's not lost forever. We're going to go see them tomorrow, take it slowly, you know?"

The conversation flowed easily as it always did and when Harry heard Kirian whinging from the other room, only then did he realise how long they'd been talking. It wasn't as if they hadn't seen each other in ages either, they'd only been round, making use of the 'reception' room in the den the other day. It was a good feeling, one that took him back to late nights in their favourite spot in front of the Gryffindor Common Room fireplace. He beamed stupidly at his two best friends.

"I've got to go, Kirian just woke up," he said. "I'll call you tomorrow." But as he went to withdraw from the grate, Ron's voice stopped him.

"Err, mate," he began tentatively and Harry could tell he was blushing now, ears and all. "Not that I really want to know or anything, or that it's my business or… But…I've always wondered. Were you even a little bit gay before you met Greyback or is it just…you know, him?"

Harry's face flamed and he stumbled over his words. It wasn't as if he hadn't thought about it before, but he hadn't expected Ron to come out with it like that. It'd obviously been on his mind for some time. "I dunno. I never really thought about blokes, but then I never was as obsessed with girls as most of you lot were either."

Ron looked uncomfortable for a moment and Harry knew he was thinking of Lavender Brown. Harry tried to hide his amused smile. "I s'pose thinking back I always thought Oliver Wood was quite fit…"

"Merlin's balls, alright, I don't need to know," Ron winced, "I just… I wondered is all. Are you going to go your whole life never…never trying the other…"

Hermione, blushing too cleared her throat awkwardly. "I believe Ronald is concerned you'll miss not having…experiences with a woman. Other than a few kisses with Ginny."

Harry gave a startled laugh. "I honestly haven't been attracted to women at all or even thought of them," he said truthfully. "If you really want to know…err…Fenrir is… he's more than enough, alright?" They had a more than fulfilling, diverse love-life. It hadn't even occurred to Harry to want something else. Even now, contemplating it, it didn't make sense.

Ron blinked. "Does he let you do that as well then?!" Ron asked, scandalised and horrified and intrigued all at once.

Harry made a choked sound and he thought he could make out Hermione smacking Ron hard across the head with something. But then Kirian gave an insistent wail. "As wonderfully humiliating as this conversation is, Kirian needs me. Talk to you both tomorrow, yeah?"

"Night mate," Ron said sheepishly, rubbing at his head.

"Goodnight," Hermione said, "And Harry?"

Harry paused, about to withdraw from the fire.

"You're happy, you're safe and loved and that's all that matters. We love you, you know that, don't you?"

"I know," Harry said softly, smiling at them both. "Good luck tomorrow." And with that, he withdrew from the fire. Kirian was bouncing with energy as always on the full moon, not ready to turn himself for a few months yet but feeling the buzz and sensing the call even as young as he was. Harry walked in to see him gnawing on the wooden rail of his cot and beamed, scooping him up. "Let's get you ready, then, hmm?" he suggested, dressing him in a clean nappy and clothes before heading out into the main room.

Fenrir was just stepping into the den with Ghost at his side. Ghost bounded over to Harry happily, sniffing all around his knees and waist. He was all nervous energy as well, evidently realising something was different about this moon. "Alright, boy?" Harry beamed, scratching the wolf's ears before looking up to Fenrir. "Everyone ready out there?"

Fenrir nodded, stepping forward and sliding fingers through Harry's just-fucked hair. When their post-orgasmic glow had been interrupted by the firecall, Fenrir had dressed and headed out into the valley to check everyone was prepared for the ritual. He looked more composed than Harry though and pulled Kirian up into one arm, letting the boy pull at his long hair in intrigue.

"Lupin and his wife are out there. They're nervous but as to be expected, I s'pose," Fenrir said, flicking Kirian's little nose gently to get him to release his hair. "The feast is about to start, are you ready?"

Following at Fenrir's side to the door, Harry paused with his fingers wrapped round the handle. He glanced up at Fenrir thoughtfully. "Fenrir?" he asked curiously, looking at his little bludger resting happily, so small and pink in Fenrir's large but gentle arms, a display of strength and gentleness all at once.

"What?" Fenrir asked, brow furrowed at the tone of Harry's voice. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Harry said quickly, honestly. "Ron just said something and it got me thinking, that's all."

"So?" Fenrir prompted when Harry still hesistated.

Harry flushed. "I don't even think I want it really or... I s'pose I'd just like to know that I could, if I wanted to…"

Fenrir frowned. "Well whatever it is, you definitely won't if you don't tell me," he said impatiently. "What is it?"

"Would you ever let me fuck you?" Harry asked in one uncertain breath, watching as Fenrir registered his words. There was no disgust or even shock, no anger, just a little furrow of that brow.

"It's not really my thing," Fenrir admitted with a wince, shifting Kirian up in his arm as he regarded Harry unflinchingly. "I've been raised as a wolf, to feel…I dunno how to explain it."

Harry saw Fenrir drag his fingers through his hair in a gesture that he'd gotten from him and that small intimacy eradicated his embarrassment somewhat. "You've just always thought the dominant wolf and the submissive wolf are always the same position in sex," he said, clarifying.

"It sounds narrow-minded when you say it like that," Fenrir complained lightly, "it's not that, you know it's not. It just feels odd to me. I don't really think I'd like the idea, if I'm honest it's not…natural to me, you know?" He stepped closer then and caught Harry's chin, not letting him look away in embarrassment or awkwardness – not ever. "I'd say you were pretty dominant sometime when we fuck. You're not a woman just because you're…on the bottom, or however you want to phrase it. You know that, don't you?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I know that," he said impatiently. "I give you just as good as I get." He relished in the playful smirk that touched Fenrir's lips before he continued. "To be honest the idea feels weird to me, sort of…unnatural, I guess, like you say. I'm not saying I want to, right now I don't. I just needed to know–"

"If you really wanted it, if I'd let you?" Fenrir asked, an eyebrow raised and voice oddly soft. "Have I ever refused you anything you really wanted?"

Harry glanced to Kirian then, who had flopped forward, resting his head against Fenrir's shoulder and staring at Harry contently as he sucked his little fist. Harry smiled. "You make me sound really spoiled," he mused, "but I s'pose you're right."

"Oh, I do love the sound of that," Fenrir chuckled, pulling open the door to their den and leading the way out into the valley. "If you really wanted it, I'd try it," he confirmed as they approached the stone courtyard and while Harry sense his distaste for the idea, the fact that he was willing to try if Harry decided he wanted it someday in the future was enough. He couldn't imagine wanting it, in all honesty; the way things were just felt right, natural, freeing, but if he ever did…

"You're a good sport," Harry said jovially and slid his hand into Fenrir's as they walked, Ghost barrelling ahead into the excitement of the preparations. The fires were being lit, the torches burning bright in the dying light as the moon approached. Fenrir's fingers tightened around his.

Everyone was gathered round the main fire in a circle, the wolves and the pack all fidgeting with nervous excitement. Harry stood in the centre by the fireside with Tonks directly in front of him, wearing a loose white wrap. Draco passed Harry the bowl with the potion and exhaled shakily, glancing from Tonks back to Harry again. "You remember the words?" he asked Harry, who nodded in answer, biting at the inside of his mouth nervously. "You have to say them over and over, three times as you pour it through your fingers over her skin. Then you have to tip the last drops onto her tongue and say the final word once more, alright?"

Harry nodded again, trying not to get annoyed with Draco, who was only trying to help but was inadvertently making it worse. "Got it," he clarified through gritted teeth. "We've been over it loads. I'm fine, I…" He glanced up at the sky. They didn't have long. It had to happen just before the moon rose.

Draco gave him a final reassuring glance before stepping back into the circle beside Echo and an anxious looking Remus. Harry tried to give Tonks a smile that spoke of confidence. "Ready?" he asked and her mouth twisted, eyes and hair changing to her preferred fuchsia as if it gave her strength.

"Ready, Harry. Let's get it done."

Slowly, Harry raised the bowl and Tonks knelt in front of him, pulling the wrap down just enough to expose her shoulders. Harry took in a sharp breath, waiting for his voice to steady before he began. "In nomine amoris," he breathed, voice rough with nerves but perfectly audible and clear. He tipped the bowl so that some of the potion slid onto his fingers. He cupped the clear bright green liquid for a moment as he spoke. "Veritatem tantum."

His chest heaved and sweat beaded across his brow. He felt sick with nerves and he glanced up just once to see Fenrir's holding Kirian, face unconcerned, patient and Remus, eyes wide but trusting. Tonks had closed her eyes now, preparing for the potion to anoint her skin and Harry licked his dry lips again, clearing his throat, remembering the words Draco and Snape had made him recite until he could say them in his sleep.

"Mutatis mutandis. Amor vincit omnia. Participem me donum." As the last syllable rolled off his tongue, he parted his fingers and let the cool, tingling liquid drop slowly over Tonks' forehead. He moved his hand, so that the slow droplets painted her cheeks and chin as well. He saw the bright glowing potion glow brighter on contact with her flesh and his fingers tingle as the magic began to flow. He shifted on his feet, confidence blooming. It was working. It was going to work!

"In nomine amoris. Veritatem tantum. Mutatis mutandis," he began again, holding the liquid in his fingers to let his magic gather in the small well there. Heat bloomed in his flesh where it touched him, glowing with almost blinding force. "Amor vincit omnia. Participem me donum." He let it spill across her neck and shoulders, and the hands that held her wrap in place. He felt the excitement and trepidation of those gathered. No one had done this since the original witch, no one had even heard of the ritual before Eithne, Draco, Snape and him had put this all together from long lost material. This was a life-changing sight, one that had every eye, even those of the children who did not quite understand, focus with rapt attention.

This, combined with the new laws formed the beginning of rebuilding everything they'd lost. This was everything to them, more astounding to them than the death of Voldemort or anything else. Harry felt under such pressure to make this right for them, for Remus, for Tonks. He felt his hands shaking as he realised how many futures lay in them right now, in the last well of potion created by his cupped fingers. Nausea so potent that it made his head spin rushed up through his belly, a combination of nerves and potent magic coursing through him to make him dizzy. He clamped his eyes shut for a moment to gather himself.

"In nomine amoris. Veritatem tantum," he whispered as the magic buzzed through his skin, radiating from the spilled potion on Tonks' body until the forest green light was brighter than the fire. "Mutatis mutandis. Amor vincit omnia. Participem me donum." The world was tipping but he pushed down in his feet, grounding himself, forcing the magic in his bones to pulse through his fingers as the potion fell, sliding down her chest beneath the wrap until the green glowed clear through her coverings at her stomach.

Tonks gasped this time, her voice raised only in surprise, not pain as the light filled the valley and she shuddered. Harry dropped to his knees with the force of the magic shaking his body with tremours. He grunted as he forced himself up, swiping his fingers through the last of the potion. If he'd not felt such an overwhelming burn of the magic coursing through him like all-consuming lava, he would have blushed awkwardly as he smeared it across Tonks' mouth with shaking fingers.

"Participem me donum," he said, loud and clear, squinting as Tonks gathered the potion off her lips, swallowing and the light consumed everything and he collapsed. Her hands shot out to steady him even as his head hung limply. Everything was electric power and a rush of sharp, fresh wind that smelled of leaves and earth and the ocean. Then the light faded and Harry was able to blink weakly, coloured spots dancing over his vision as he slowly adjusted to the subtle glow of the torches and the fire.

It was done. He grit his teeth, forcing his head up to see Tonks' face. The potion had completely vanished, but wherever it had touched seemed to be painted with clear glittering dust that was slowly fading the longer he looked at her. She smiled at him, squeezing and rubbing his arms where she held him upright. "Wotcher, Harry," she said brightly, her voice slightly hoarse with emotion.

Harry beamed, breathing heavy but in relief as well as exertion. Those in the circle closed in and Harry felt the familiar pressure of Fenrir's hand on his shoulder, helping to steady him when Tonks released his arms to pick up the dagger at her side. She winced as she dragged it lightly over her palm but as soon as the blood welled in the shallow cut, every wolf in the valley let out a sound of celebration. They could smell the difference. It had worked!

Cheers and shrieks and dry happy sobs filled the air. Everyone was clapping Harry and Tonks on the back, embracing and congratulating Tonks and Remus. Still dazed from the exertion of the ritual, Harry let it all happen, smiling giddily when Remus and Tonks embraced him, when he met Echo and Draco's eyes and nodded slowly. It was all alright. They'd done it. Remus and Tonks would live and long and happy life together as would every werewolf and mortal couple that came to undergo the ritual. And everyone that sharedthe gift would then be able to pass it on to others. It was such a freeing, thrilling feeling that his smile spread wider and he wondered vaguely if Teddy would be here next full moon. He hoped so.

"Welcome to the pack," Harry managed eventually as they all stepped back, preparing for the imminent arrival of the moon. "You remember what Draco and I told you about interacting with the pack under the moon, yeah?"

Tonks, still beaming and breathless, tied her wrap more securely around her and nodded. "I remember," she said, squeezing Remus' hand a final time before he stepped back from her a few feet. "Harry," she whispered. "Thank you."

Harry glanced from her to Remus, whose eyes were warm and bright in the firelight, so full of love and happiness and gratitude that it made Harry feel dizzy all over again. He slowly lowered himself down to the ground, sitting with crossed legs as Fenrir stooped to push a fidgety Kirian into his arms. Those bristly lips brushed against his jaw until Harry turned. He caught those eyes, staring into them for a warm, extended moment before he pressed his mouth to Fenrir's briefly.

"Proud of you," Fenrir murmured against his lips and Harry smiled again, sitting Kirian in his arms so that his face was against Harry's chest as Fenrir stood back. He knew Kirian wasn't afraid of the wolves or the pack when they were changed, but he didn't think he'd understand the sight of his daddy morphing grotesquely like that until he was older. As he had done before, he shielded his little bludgers eyes until the cracking of cartilage and bone had ceased and the valley was filled with wolves.

His own moon heat had taken over too now and sweat beaded across his skin as the moon kissed the sky. He shrugged out of his trousers and shirt, relief filling him as the cool air touched his flesh. The pack was around him, complete and happy, it made the instincts all that much more soothing as they swept over him.

Harry watched as the cubs tussled across the ground, bounding with energy. Draco greeted Echo's tawny wolf with practiced ease now, running his long, pale fingers through the fur confidently. Remus' wolf, so much stronger and filled out now, sniffed slowly at a very still Tonks' neck. Her amethyst eyes flicked to Harry briefly and he nodded encouragingly on instinct, even overcome as he was sensing his pack-mate's anxiety. But then Remus began to lick at her wounded palm until it healed, then at her face, tail wagging playfully and it was done. It was all fine. The last of the unease ebbed from his body and he surrendered to the freedom of the moon.

Suddenly he was butted firmly in the head and he turned to see Fenrir waiting impatiently, apparently not liking being made to wait for Harry's attention. Kirian screeched happily, kicking his feet out and reaching for Fenrir's massive muzzle. He clapped his hands a bit too hard either side of it and Fenrir shook his head, bumping Kirian's chest with his nose in reprimand before sniffing heavily at his head of dark auburn curls. The little boy giggled and Harry let out a huff of laughter, smoothing his fingers through Fenrir's silver fur, relishing in the feel of the silky strands against his flesh, still tingling from the magic of the potion.

Still a little weak from the ritual, Harry rolled easily onto his back letting Kirian crawl off him and into the grass, where Fenrir nudged him over onto his side and nuzzled at his belly until he gave another squeal of laughter. Harry propped himself up in his elbows to watch, catching one of Kirian's socked feet with his toes, stopping him from escaping when Fenrir came to stand over Harry, eyes bright gold. Turning his head to welcome the soft snuffling at his neck, Harry relaxed under the feel of soft fur and a wet nose and tongue, staring up at the blanket of stars above and the comforting brightness of the moon.

"Baa ba baa!" Kirian babbled and Harry wrapped his arms round Fenrir's neck for a brief moment before sliding out from under him and pulling his cub toward him by a chubby leg when he tried to crawl away. He fussed at being held back, but quickly settled when Harry carried him over to the hollow that he would have been born in, where Fenrir laid down and offered himself up as a living climbing frame. Ghost ambled over to them and curled up beside Harry as he sprawled back on the ground, watching as Kirian curled his fists around silky fur, trying to pull himself up onto his feet but failing, instead flopping forward onto Fenrir's side and clambering up onto him.

Grumbling softly, Fenrir gave his son a cursory glance before resting his head on Harry's stomach, large, heavy and warm. Harry crooned back, smoothing his hands against those downy ears and staring into those eyes. When a pink tongue flicked out against his stomach, Harry gave a human laugh and closed his eyes, happiness filling him with such warmth that no magic could touch it.

When the sun rudely awoke him as morning broke, Harry frowned and glanced up on instinct just once to see where Kirian was. The little boy was fast asleep on his belly on Fenrir's still wolf back. Harry grumbled sleepily, slowly dragging his little bludger down until he was safely in his arms, warm against Fenrir's fur and closed his eyes again, sighing softly. A furry muzzle brushed against his side and Harry cracked open an eye just in time to see bright blue eyes blinking at him. He felt the fluffy tail wag subtly at the small of his back and smiled, snuggling in close.

Delving his fingers into Fenrir's fur, hooking his leg around Ghost's belly and holding Kirian tightly, Harry dragged them with apparition into their den and stretched out in the comforting warmth of their bed. Ghost curled up happily at the end as always, apparently content that all was right with the world. When a very human looking Fenrir pulled the blankets up around them, Harry curled with a sleeping Kirian into his chest and pressed his forehead against the man's collarbone, fighting to stay asleep. He wanted to stay like this forever. The knowledge that there would be countless other mornings like this though, that made a lazy, contented smile stretch across his face.

"What're you smiling at?" Fenrir teased roughly, coarse fingertips brushing against Harry's jaw until his eyes fluttered open and he drew back enough to stare into blue.

"You," Harry said simply.

Fenrir raised a brow. "Oh? Am I funny?"

"Very, now sssh!" Harry mumbled, gesturing with his chin down to Kirian before pressing his forehead to the man's bristly jaw. They lay there quietly for some time in that semi-awake state, the bond between them pulsing gently to announce that Fenrir was overflowing with the same kind of utter peace that Harry felt glowing in his own chest. Hearing the familiar, low growl of contentment from his mate's lips, Harry smiled and turned his head a fraction to capture those lips in a half-asleep kiss. If this was how life would be from now on, then he couldn't wait to live it. Every day, surrounded by people who loved him, in his home. With that thought, he drifted.

THE END

A/N: The ritual words created by the witch (basically a series of statements in Latin):

In nomine amoris - in the name of love.

Veritatem tantum – truth/truth only

Mutatis mutandis - a Latin phrase meaning "the things being changed which need to be changed" or more simply "the necessary changes having been made".

amor vincit omnia – love conquers all

Participem me donum – I share the gift.

Watch this space for the sequel! Hope I see you all there! :)

Love Shigure-san

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