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The Girl Amongst The Wolves	By : albamezzora Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Fenrir Views: 27847 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER NOR DO I MAKE ANY PROFIT FROM THIS OR ANY STORY I PUBLISH ON THIS OR ANY OTHER WEBSITE

Chapter List
- 20
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DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER!!

The Girl Amongst The Wolves

Chapter 20

Their fight didn’t last very long in human terms. But in Were terms, the Pack was already becoming anxious. It was only the next evening and they still hadn’t made up. It was dinner time and everyone was around the table. Instead of the usual joy and cheer and chatter, everyone was very quiet, some people only speaking in whispers. It had been like that at breakfast and lunch too. Fenrir had been chivalrous enough to pull out his Mate’s chair and then push it in for her, but other than that, they didn’t speak or interact in any way. Hermione sat next to Fenrir at the head of the table, pushing a small mouthful of mashed potato onto her fork with her knife slowly, desperately wanting to look at him, but knowing he didn’t want to talk to her. They hadn’t looked at each other or spoken since last night. Hermione’s human side was deeply upset about having upset her Mate, but her Wolf was in agony about the whole situation, crying and howling in the back of her mind. Every time she got a quick glance at Fenrir, he looked both suicidal and murderous. Suicidal for feeling denied by his Mate, the one person in the entire world that was supposed to love him unconditionally and in this life and the next. Yet it was her that he looked ready to kill.

After dinner was done, Fenrir stood first and assisted Hermione away from the table. They walked down the room, the rest of the Pack rising for them and bowing or curtseying as they left the room and went into the corridor. Hermione fiddled with her fingers nervously, her Wolf constantly howling and whimpering in her mind, urging her to turn and embrace her Mate, the desire to appease her Mate and end their fight almost driving her crazy. He led her to their room, stopping outside it, clearing his throat.

“You go in; I’m going to go to the cigar room.” Her throat clenched a little, restricting her response to a solemn nod of her head, keeping her eyes on the floor, knowing that if she were to look at her Mate, she would be in floods of tears. They stood there awkwardly for another minute or two. Fenrir finally broke the silence by clearing his throat and nodding. He abruptly turned and left, leaving her standing out in the hallway, the tears silently falling.

!”!

The clock chimed midnight. Fenrir’s smoke and brandy clogged head barely registered the chimes, French exhaling the smoke from his latest drag of his cigar. His fourth of the evening. Taking another short drag and quickly blowing the smoke away, he looked down at his crystal glass and saw it empty. His sixth of the evening. He was past drunk, after all he was a Werewolf, a creature that hadn’t evolved to drink copious amounts of alcohol and was only hindered by it, and he’d had over half a bottle of brandy to himself. He finished off the cigar, stubbing the end into a bronze ashtray and standing slowly. He wobbled a little but managed to stay on two feet, walking slowly out of the room and back to his and Hermione’s bedroom. He stopped a dozen steps away. Hermione, his Mate, was curled up on the doorstep to the room, sleeping with tear tracks down her face.

Immediately, his heart wrenched and he hurried over to her, kneeling on the floor in front of her. Their fight forgotten, his instincts to comfort his Mate took over, gently manoeuvring her into his arms, cradling her softly, whispering her name. Holding onto her, he rocked her back and forth, whispering in her ear that no matter what she did or what she said, he would always love her. Unconditionally. Forever. Out of nowhere, she shuffled a little, moving her head and looking up at him. Her big brown eyes gazed into his in a confused, hurt and loving manner. Saying nothing, he leant in and kissed her lips gently, silently begging her to forgive him. And she did.

!”!

Hermione moaned softly as Fenrir loosened a tight knot in her shoulder as they sat on the soft ground outside the huge manor the Pack lived in. A week had passed since their fight and it was the Full Moon. Their first Moon since becoming Mates. The most critical in a Pair’s relationship. Fenrir was massaging his Mate’s shoulders in an attempt to take her mind of the upcoming task she was going to be faced with; mating with her Mate…In their Wolf forms. Needless to say, she was very tense about that, also about the fact that they would have to do it, not directly in front of the entire Pack, but with everyone else only a few trees away, with the ability to hear everything that was happening. The Pack was calm, sitting in groups and chatting, waiting for Mother Moon to show Her face. The weather was warm for the August evening, a gentle breeze blowing through the trees, ruffling the leaves on the trees and floor.

“You’ll be fine, love.” Fenrir’s gruff voice comforted, reaching round and kissing her cheek. “You know what will happen, you know what to expect…It’ll be quick at least. And this is the only time we will ever have to do this. With the Pack nearby at least.”

“I know. But…Do Cami and Henry really have to watch?” She asked quietly, her embarrassment beyond mortifying. When Fenrir had told her that the Wolf-Mating was traditionally watched on by the Beta couple, she felt that all the blood in her body had gone to her cheeks and she almost cried at the thought. ‘Almost’ being the operative word since the other Pair had seemed just as uncomfortable, if not more so, than her at the thought of it all.

“You know it’s tradition. And it won’t be erotic anyway.” He pulled her back into his embrace, wrapping his arms around her, holding her close.

“I know, I know. It’s just…After this…I don’t know if I’ll be able to look them in the eye again…” She blushed as she looked up at his stubbly face.

Fenrir raised his eyebrow at her comically. “What?”

“Well every time I look at him, I’ll just be thinking, ‘you saw me have sex, you saw me have sex, you saw me have sex’.”

“Love, if you can’t handle this, how are you going to handle it when Cami delivers our children?”

Hermione bolted up in his arms and turned to look at him. “What?” She watched as Fenrir rolled his eyes and groaned. “No, not the ‘children’ topic again. Cami will deliver our children? Not the Pack’s Shaman?”

“Yes. The Beta female always delivers the Alpha female’s cubs. Tradition.”

“So Cami and Lauren will…See…That?” Her face paled as she asked.

“Yes, love.”

“But where will you be?”

“The Dominants in the Pack will be distracting me for the duration of the labour.”

“‘Distracting’ you?”

“They will be fighting me, one at a time, to keep me from coming to you.”

“Why will they be fighting you?”

“Because if I were to get to you, I would kill everyone else in the room. A matter of territory, if you will.”

“But why can’t you just deliver the cubs? I thought that Alphas always delivered the new-borns? Like a ‘welcome to the Pack’ kind of thing?”

“Normally we do. But the father is always – always – separated from the mother. And I cannot deliver my own cubs, as I will be far away in the forest whilst you’re in labour as I am also the father of the cubs. It’s just-”

“Tradition.” Hermione finished for him.

He smiled and kissed her forehead, holding her close. “It’s nearly time for the Moon anyway. Stop thinking and just relax.”

She laughed. “‘Stop thinking’? You’ve met me, right?” Though it was quickly interrupted a sharp cry ripping through her. The Moon was rising.
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The Girl Amongst The Wolves