A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews, favorites and follows over the course of the story! I can't believe it's actually over! There will be a special little drabble for this later, but I think I am going to make a separate story to hold all sorts of drabbles that I write, included one for Hey There Little Red, too. So, check back for that. If you enjoyed this pairing, next Monday, I will be starting another Fenmione story called Over the Hills and Far Away, so please check it out if you are interested. You can follow me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks, answer questions and post story updates.

Please let me know what you thought of the epilogue!


One Year Later

Fenrir paced about in the muggle suit, feeling like it was much too tight and much too constricting for his large form. Remus and Potter had insisted that it was tailored for him properly, but he still couldn't get comfortable. It was times like these that he wondered what his fascination with muggles was.

And then he would remember Hermione. His sweet little mate.

He would wear the funny black outfit if that was what was expected of him. And really, most muggle clothes weren't that bad. He even had a small section of the shared closet at the house for his clothes. Fenrir didn't mind the jeans much at all, and he'd been pleased to learn that muggles also had less formal shirts than the "button-downs" he had worn for dates. He'd been very glad to learn from Hermione that many muggles just wore tshirts. Still, he usually only put a shirt on if he knew that they were going to have company. He enjoyed catching his mate staring at his form too much to stop going shirtless most of the time.

Remus placed a hand on his shoulder, which honestly did calm him a bit. He was pretty sure he was making the muggle priest a bit nervous, not just because of his anxious energy, but his huge size as well. Apparently, this was the church that Hermione had gone to as a child and seeing that he was the one she'd decided to marry was a surprise.

In the end, Fenrir didn't have to ask for Greg Granger's permission to marry his daughter. Once they told Hermione's parents that she was pregnant, they'd practically demanded it. Luckily, he'd already had a ring - selected with Remus's assistance - waiting in his pocket at all times for the right moment, so he was still able to help Hermione participate in the muggle tradition of becoming engaged properly. It was nice to know that she knew that he'd been prepared as well.

Her getting pregnant hadn't been something that he had planned on, but it wasn't as though he wasn't trying. She'd told him a little over a moon since they mated - since she'd reciprocated and gave him a matching mating mark - that she'd skipped her monthly, and he was finally able to understand why her scent had changed. Hermione had apologized profusely. Apparently, she'd been on some kind of potion that would prevent pregnancy, but she'd forgotten to take it, being so busy with studying for her NEWTs and then starting her new job at the Ministry, working in the Department for the Care and Regulation of Magical Creatures, specializing in werewolves.

Fenrir had never loved her so sweetly as that day, when she told him she was carrying his pup. He didn't think that it was possible for him to love her any more than he already did, but he felt his heart clench so tightly, it hurt. With his cock buried deep inside her, he'd made her promise to never again apologize for quickening with his seed, that he would provide for her and their children, and let her know that he was very, very pleased.

He'd been extremely excited to have a pup, especially seeing Lupin with his own, Teddy. Hermione's parents had been much less excited to have a grandchild and him as a permanent part of their family. Fenrir thought they were more upset with the realization that their daughter was tied to him forever. Too bad they didn't know that he was already her mate and there was nothing they could do to separate them, child or no child.

Hermione insisted that a baby wasn't going to ruin her life, and her job had been very accommodating. Learning that she was growing the pack had brought the rest of the werewolves closer to her, as well, which in turn made them more willing to accept some of the changes that she was making. Their pack had been largely nomadic, but now that she had a home built, some of the others began making their own homes, after they realized they were staying there.

She'd been able to make significant changes already to the wizarding world, repealing Umbridge's damaging legislation easily, and more significantly, gotten a bill passed to allow werewolf children the right to be educated at Hogwarts. That had caused a lot of heated discussion between him and Hermione because one of the conditions was that they must take wolfsbane during the full moon, which was damaging in Fenrir's opinion. Hermione now could see his side, especially after months of transformations and she could see how useful embracing your instincts could be. But, she explained that they needed to take baby steps to get the wizarding world to see werewolves as people first.

He'd begun to accept that compromise could be a useful tool to get what you wanted.

Hermione had given birth a little more than a month before the wedding to a tiny baby boy called Ragnar. Jean Granger had been very disappointed at the name choice, wishing Hermione would have chosen a nice, British name, but Fenrir had been honored at the nod to his Norwegian roots. Hermione's mother had been even more annoyed when her prediction that Hermione's body still wouldn't be back to pre-baby in time for the wedding didn't come true, but he wasn't about to tell his future mother-in-law about her werewolf healing abilities.

Fenrir turned around, looking at Harry Potter, who was sitting with Weasley. Teddy was in between them, on strict instructions to keep his hair one color - he'd settled on sandy blond - and with Ragnar in his arms. To his amusement the little baby was wriggling around, giving Hermione's friend quite a difficult time of getting comfortable. It made him glad that he'd talked Hermione into putting off whatever this "honeymoon" idea was until their little boy was older...he wasn't willing to have Harry Potter watch his son for an extended period of time.

He was often amazed at how well he and Hermione had taken to being parents. He couldn't deny that he had been dreaming of Hermione round with his child basically since he found out she was his mate, but it was another thing to actually hold a child in his arms. It had been good to have a lot of practice with Teddy. The newly mated couple had even watched him for a week, while Fenrir had ordered Remus, Tabitha and Katrina to get away and sort out just what they were playing with. The trio had come back sated and reeking of sex. Hermione told her friend that she didn't know if she should be happy for him or concerned. She'd had a long conversation with him, in which she told him that he had Teddy to think about too...he didn't need a string of women paraded through his young life, so he better be sure before letting Teddy get attached to another woman.

Hermione had been a natural with the baby so far, carrying Ragnar with her everywhere in a little sling that Carina had made for her, talking to him constantly, telling him everything that she saw. Fenrir was very fond of reminding her that he was much too little to respond to her yet, but she always told him it was good for his development. It was positive, too, for the rest of the pack seeing their alpha female embracing motherhood. He was sure there would soon be a boom of young children in the pack.

Now that she had Ragnar, though, she'd been discussing ways to work at home more, so that she could spend her days with their son. It hadn't been long after that that she broached the possibility of writing a book about werewolves that got to the truth of the matter, in hopes of replacing some of the downright incorrect, truly prejudiced writing that existed out there. Fenrir wasn't initially open to the idea of sharing their secrets with wizards, as he was afraid that wizards might use the writings against him, but she'd been very persuasive about it, that it would be a good thing to help dispel rumors.

He'd broken down and agreed to it, if her supervisor would agree to it as well. Hermione had just smiled sweetly at him and told him that she'd already gotten approval, and was excited to start once she returned from maternity leave. Fenrir supposed he was glad to have her safe at home rather than trying to track down lone werewolves, even though he knew that she could handle herself.

Before he could think on it more, the music began to play and he turned to see Hermione standing with her father at the end of the aisle wearing a tight, form fitting dress. She'd been very insistent that he couldn't see her today until the wedding, and now he could totally appreciate why. She looked so beautiful standing there, her body in lace, that he felt like the proudest werewolf - man - to know that he had her for the rest of his life.

Hermione was crying by the time she reached the altar, her father giving her hand to his, but her face was brightened by the broadest smile. He wanted to kiss her right then and there, deeply, in front of all of Hermione's judging family, but he had been expressly instructed by Hermione, Remus and Potter that there could be no kissing until the little priest said they could.

The ceremony passed by in a blur, with a lot of sitting and standing back up again, and vows that both he and Hermione promised to one another, but he would have promised her anything that she asked for when he was staring into her warm, brown eyes.

When the priest asked if anyone had any objections, pointedly looking at Hermione's parents, Fenrir had to repress the need to growl. Luckily, no one spoke up and it was finally his turn to kiss Hermione. Wrapping one arm around her tiny waist, the other holding at the back of her neck so that he didn't mess up the updo that she'd given herself, holding her tightly to his chest. His mouth slotted against hers, eager. He pressed his tongue along the seam of her lips, only to tangle with hers tongue when she met him. He felt her hands on his biceps, the material of his suit bunching under greedy little fingers, and he thought about how she'd scolded him earlier to not wrinkle his suit, when he was sure she would be the cause of all wrinkles.

He could smell her body's reaction to him, and could hear a low moan forming in the back of her throat. It felt better than anything to know that he could still draw this kind of reaction from her even a year later...that kissing never got old between them.

A throat clearing from behind him got his attention, and he reluctantly disentangled himself from his wife. He was just about to send a growl Remus's way, only to look out on the sea of Hermione's intensely disappointed family and a slightly concerned priest. Oh, apparently it was just supposed to be a little peck on the cheek.

Hermione didn't seem bothered, so he was determined not to let it bother him either. She looked at the priest expectantly, and waited for him to pronounce them man and wife, which made him smirk endlessly, knowing that all these muggles had no idea that they were in the same room with not one, not two, but three veritable werewolves.

When it was time to leave the little church, Hermione eagerly took Ragnar in her arms, peppering little kisses on his little face, blue eyes staring up at her, and chubby little hands reaching for her face, while Fenrir wrapped an arm around her waist, guiding her back down the gaudy aisle.

He still wasn't entirely sure why muggles had these weddings, but he knew he would do it again and again if it meant making his little mate happy. Even if it meant facing down her tiny little grandmother who had a lot to say about the length of his hair.

Because he was meant for Hermione. And she was meant for him.