A/N: Hi there! This is a Christmas Present for my better half der-gestiefelte-kater XD
The reason I (wofl1) wrote this is the following: Two days before Christmas she said to me "Hey! Let's get each other a present!" and I was like WTF?? (I'm not very creative with presents) So I decided to write her something but I needed an idea. So when I lied in bed that evening I was thinking about it and THIS came into existence.
Please, don't hit me...V_V
I think this time I didn't eat anything strange before writign it XD
So yesterday I gave it to her (we didn't see each other earlier) and said "Read it when I'm back on my way home... I don't want to be hit by you."(I got a very nicely drawn Fenrir in wolf-form XDDD It's going to be hung up in my room!)
But she just called me and said, "It's so cool! And cute! Do upload it!"
So here I am, uploading it.
It's her fault if you don't like it because she said I should...
Hope you enjoy it nonetheless...
By the way, the title was her idea... I have no idea where that came from... Because actually the oneshot has nothing to do with big and fluffy teddy bears... However, it came to her mind and who am I to deny her...? You may have noticed we aren't very creatvie with titles...Y_Y
Disclaimer: Nothing ours, as usual
Warning: bad humor, slight violence, mentioning of mpreg
My Big Fluffy Teddy Bear Present
Harry just knew that the house he was currently in would crumble any moment now, if the old corridor he was in was anything to go by. The floor creaked although Harry walked on a carpet, the tapestry was slowly peeling from the walls. There was no electricity to light the hallway, nor any torches or candles so he couldn't see through the dark curtain of night. The rays of the moon falling through the corridor's windows were the only source of light he had to orientate himself in the darkness.
He had no idea where he was. And for that matter he had no idea how he had gotten to this place.
Putting a hand onto the stony surface of the wall to make sure he wouldn't stumble he started moving along the corridor.
The wooden floor under his feet creaked at his first step, the carpet doing almost nothing to silence the sound, putting him on edge immediately. Stopping all his movements he looked around cautiously to make sure no imaginary phantom or another invisible person had heard it.
He almost jumped out of his skin when suddenly something caressed his neck very softly and somebody – or something – howled in the distance.
Spinning around surprised, with his wand at the ready and expectant to find an enemy that would hex him the next moment Harry didn't see anybody or anything that could have made that sound and touch him.
Confusion marred his features as he searched for the offender in the shadows of the dark corridor. It turned into suspiciousness when he didn't find anything at all that.
His eyes snapped to one of the walls upon hearing the screeching again, raising his wand, ready to attack.
Caught off guard he stared at the silhouette of an open window, showing the dark night sky illuminated by the stars and the white rays of the full moon.
The window moved in the soft breeze of the night.
Harry laughed nervously.
He had been crept out by a window moving in the wind. How pathetic. It just couldn't get any worse. The next thing that would scare him would be a fork lying harmlessly on a table! Damn it all!
Calming himself down again – although the anger towards himself was quite persistent – he continued his path as soon as his heartbeat was back under control again.
Still scolding himself for being so jumpy he decided he didn't like this place and that he would destroy Voldemort as soon as the possibility presented itself to him so he wouldn't get into another place like this again.
Something did nag at the back of his mind, trying to tell him something, but he ignored it. He was too engrossed in his Voldemort-centric thoughts to think about a nagging feeling.
There just couldn't be another reason why he would be here, in this dingy house, if not to kill Voldemort.
He didn't think that anybody would throw him a birthday party in a place like this – except for Voldemort, but he didn't count.
So there really was no other reason for his presence to be here than to kill Voldemort.
Mind set on his goal, Harry started moving down the corridor again, his wand still drawn. He told himself that it would be safer this way.
Snorting, he berated himself. As if...
He didn't know what might lurk behind the next corner. A Death Eater he would attack, but if there was a pink, alive teddy bear playing with a ball he wouldn't. Honestly, who would? But that could mean his down fall. He would never suspect such an innocent thing to attack him but if he truly would find a teddy bear like that in a place like this he would realize too late that the ball it was playing with was a severed head of a dead person. It would spin around, snarl at him and jump at him with bared teeth.
If he was lucky he could stop its teeth from sinking into his flesh with his wand, stuffing it into its open mouth. Because truly, he would be too surprised by it to do anything else.
While he continued to walk along the corridor he thought about it. He could already picture it happening and snorted again at his own stupidity – who would think of such things in a situation like this?
Sneaking around in the shadows it didn't take long for him to reach a long staircase with its end disappearing in the darkness.
Looking suspiciously at it he contemplated his possibilities.
He could either turn back and look for another path or he could go down and hope he would find an exit – or Voldemort.
His instincts were reluctant to go down into the unknown. They were sure something evil awaited him – something far more dangerous than Voldemort and his Death Eaters.
Then again he didn't like going back, either. He had gone such a long way and to be honest was too lazy to go back.
So the only option left was to take the stairs.
Taking some steps towards it, Harry stretched his neck in hopes of seeing the end of the stairs, but the darkness still blocked his view, no matter how tall he made himself.
Cursing his luck he resigned himself to his fate and started moving downstairs. As soon as his foot touched the first step it creaked. Jerking away he examined it warily.
What was it with this house and its weird noises? He was already crept out enough! He didn't need any other eerie sounds scaring the hell out of him!
Stepping onto the staircase, his feet touching the surface only lightly, it creaked again nonetheless.
Not bothering to pay any head to it again Harry contemplated his situation.
It could be worse, he reckoned. After all he wasn't senselessly firing curses into any direction he imagined a sound coming from nor had he encountered the pink teddy bear. Besides pointlessly casting spell after spell would announce his presence to Voldemort immediately, which would cause Harry to lose the advantage of surprise.
The air grew moist and the smell of mildew polluted Harry's air ways. The little light the moon had been giving up until now was disappearing the deeper he came so he could see almost next to nothing any more. But he didn't dare to cast a Lumos to light his surroundings. His fear of being discovered was too overbearing in the forefront of his mind.
He might be the boy-who-lived but that didn't mean he could take on the whole horde of Death Eaters that certainly would gather around Voldemort. It had been sheer dumb luck in his forth year that he had been able to escape them – however, not without losses. Cedric was lost that night.
And now, at seventeen, he didn't think he could pull something like that again. His magic had become stronger and his knowledge of spells had increased, but that didn't mean he was invincible.
He would be lucky to even survive the battle with Voldemort! Every extra Death Eater he could take down would be great, but it wasn't absolutely necessary. As long as Voldemort was dead, everything else would be acceptable.
Deeply immersed in his thoughts, it wasn't surprising that Harry lost his footing and slipped, falling onto his behind. Not stopping there, he slid down the rest of the staircase while making loud "bamm" noises.
The back of his head hit the ground hard and the air was knocked out of him as he reached the end of the stairs, losing consciousness for a moment.
His head hurt like hell the second he came around again, not to mention his back, but he didn't waste any time getting used to the pain his body emitted and started scrambling to his feet. Somebody must've heard his "fly on the staircase", he was sure of it.
However, he regretted his action as soon as splitting pang invaded his head and his vision blurred. His stomach complained and Harry tried to suppress the nausea, his eyes tightly shut.
Clutching his head, he waited for the nausea to die down. He ignored the throb in his head and got back to his feet. But as soon as his right foot hit the floor, pain shot through it.
Harry managed to suppress a cry of pain, his hands moving from his head to his ankle, touching it.
Just wonderful! Everything was just wonderful! It seemed he had sprained his ankle. What else could go wrong? Was his wand broken because Harry had landed on it? That would just be marvellous! And then Voldemort would come around the next corner, alerted by the noise, and would be over the moon upon seeing Harry. Just great!
The next moment Harry searched frantically for his wand.
Finding it, still in one piece, his fingers closed in around the handle in relief.
He could still protect himself from any harm that would come his way, although he wouldn't be a real threat, considering his smashed head, his probably blue back and his fucking sprained ankle.
Right now he was pissed. If Voldemort were really coming around the next corner, he wouldn't stand a chance against Harry! He would use him as his personal punching back for his mishaps!
Damn it all!
Hobbling forwards, he continued to rant in his head. He couldn't wait to find Voldemort!
He was startled out of his thoughts when he realized that the corridor in front of him started to get lighter.
Stopping all his movements he stared at the light. Had he been here for too long already so he started imagining things?
There was no other reason why there was light in front of him and still nobody had come looking for him after his loud descend of the stairs.
The light just had to be imagined!
Or were the Death Eaters occupied torturing an innocent? But then why couldn't Harry hear any screams? At all?
Harry's inner warning bells told him not to go into the light, the cliché about light at the end of a dark tunnel when one was about to die was at the forefront of his mind. Besides that he sensed that there was more to the light than met the eye.
But in the end his curiosity got the better of him and he continued his path nonetheless.
Slowly sneaking towards the light at the end of the corridor he could finally make out the silhouette of a door.
His body tensed up. Light either meant that there had to be someone in the room – the Death Eaters torturing said innocent victim – or it meant that behind that door endless plains of pink flowers awaited him, signalling that he truly was dead.
Not bothering to stop – he had come this far, he certainly wouldn't turn back around and back out of it – he went on ahead.
Besides the possibility that Voldemort was there with the Death Eaters was rather high so why not go into there and hex the hell out of him? He certainly deserved it after what Harry had had to endure to get this far!
Tightening his hold on his wand, Harry pushed open a crack in the door, just enough for him to be able to look into the room and check the situation.
Harry eyes widened.
In the room in front of him there was a stage with a Christmas theme built onto it, but that wasn't what had caught his eyes.
Several on-lookers were seated in front of it. Said on-lookers consisted only of Death Eaters.
Every last one of them was here! McNair, Crabbe, Goyle, the whole bunch of them!
Head pounding a mile a minute and his breath hitching, he crouched down and cursed silently as he put too much weight on his sprained ankle.
How the hell had he gotten here? This was a dream, right? There was no way in hell that the Death Eater would sit in front of a stage, doing nothing but staring at it calmly without murdering the performer!
Pinching himself he winced and decided that this wasn't a dream after all.
So the question of how to get away from here without them noticing him was more important than the question of why they hadn't killed the performer yet.
He was just about turning around on his heel when he realized that the Death Eaters were not only watching the performance without killing the performer, but they did that spellbound.
What was their problem? What could ensnare them that much – aside from Voldemort going on and on about his cause – that they were in such a state?
Against his better judgement Harry stopped his escape and followed their gazes.
His eyes widened in disbelief at what he saw.
The Death Eaters' eyes were all glued on the person performing on the stage.
But that wasn't the problem.
The problem was that Lucius Malfoy was dancing some kind of ballet in front of the Christmas scene, in black tight tights!
What was going on?
That wasn't the worst, though.
The worst was the fact that he made pirouette after pirouette, tripping gracefully from one spot to the next in between the different jumps, his almost silver braid glowing in the spotlight, spinning around and following his every move.
What... the... hell?
Was that guy completely stoned? There was no other reason why Mr. Malfoy would do something like this if he were clean!
Or was dancing some secret hobby of his? And only his fellow Death Eaters knew about it? Maybe Mr. Malfoy was some secret star in their ranks? Maybe it was another way for them to get rid of their frustrations?
Shaking his head violently he tried to get rid of the thoughts.
Whatever were his reasons, Harry didn't want to know about them. It had already been scaring enough to have seen something like this! He didn't have to know about Mr. Malfoy's motives of doing this!
Maybe sex with Mrs Malfoy wasn't satisfying and thus he sought to vent his frustrations in another way?
Damn it! Now he had a mental image of Mr. and Mrs Malfoy... doing it... in his head and he couldn't get rid of it!
Could this day get any worse?
Still trying to forget about the mental image his eyes focused on Mr. Malfoy again who bowed in gratitude after his performance while their Death Eaters were clapping their hands.
Thank god this was over!
They LIKED something like that? Disturbing...
But now he had to get out of here! He had no time contemplating something like this any further because if the performance was finished, the Death Eaters would surely want to get out of this room – through the door Harry currently still hid behind.
Before he could make a hasty retreat, though, something unexpected happened.
Mr. Malfoy got off of the stage and the whole light was turned off.
Harry couldn't see a thing.
What the hell was going on? Why would they do something like this? Their reasoning completely escaped him.
Then, however, the spotlight was turned back on, enlightening some part of the stage.
It revealed another person standing, ready to perform.
Had the Death Eaters all gone mad? More than they already were?
Focussing his gaze on the new person, his eyes widened in fear.
The image that presented itself to him was scarring for life. On the stage there stood his hated potions professor in tight tights and a black, clinging shirt which exposed some of his chest.
When Snape started to dance another ballet solo Harry was sure he would never recover form the shock.
Honestly, whoever wanted to see Severus Snape performing some sort of dance in form fitting clothes?
Harry choked as he realized that the tights brought out Snape's arse!
Harry shuddered. That had been something he could have done without...
But it had been his own fault. He had started checking out his professor – however unintentional it had been – and that was what he got from it.
He was surprised, though, that grease wasn't spraying from Snape's hair while dancing, turning, and making pirouettes.
The git's solemn face was priceless. Combined with his outfit and that disgustingly large nose he looked utter ridiculous!
And then, without a warning, it happened. Snape made that one ever recognizable Dirty Dancing pose, hands over his head and waiting for someone to jump onto them and Harry realized belatedly that the song was being played.
For a short moment, Harry was confused. Snape couldn't be serious, right? Really, he couldn't be serious, right?
But the next moment Harry realized that Snape was indeed serious because someone was running towards him.
Harry's eyes widened in horror.
Voldemort ran towards Snape, wearing a damn PINK tutu and jumped onto Snape's hands!
Screaming, Harry bolted upright in his bed in Ron's room.
Looking around frantically, he gasped for air.
Realizing everything was as it should be – his bed was next to Ron's, the window was where it should be and so on and so forth – Harry noticed that he was wearing something rather uncomfortable for nightwear.
He pulled up the covers.
His eyes bulged out of their sockets.
He was wearing a pink tutu!
Screaming, Harry bolted upright in his bed in Ron's room.
Looking around frantically, he gasped for air.
Immediately making sure he wasn't wearing a pink tutu and that no Mr. Malfoy, Snape or Voldemort in a pink tutu were around, he finally allowed himself to relax, at least somewhat.
After all he was in the household of the Weasleys, and that meant the twins weren't far away.
Who knew what evil plan they were cooking up right at this moment?
Double-checking Ron and his room again, he assumed he was safe and got up. He was just about to leave for the bathroom when the door opened and Ron's head poked into the room.
"You finally awake? Everyone's waiting downstairs." He complained. "I'll be down in a minute." Harry said. "Hurry up! It's Christmas morning!" Ron retorted and disappeared again.
The boy-who-lived shook his head and completed his morning routine.
Ron could be a real child when it came to Christmas. He was obsessed with getting presents and forgot the real purpose of Christmas. But then again he was together with his family the whole time and thus wouldn't know how it was to be alone on Christmas.
He really liked that oblivious spark of Ron.
When he was finally fully dressed, he went downstairs.
Entering the kitchen he was greeted with the sight of Mrs Weasley cooking, cleaning and screaming out orders for the rest of the family to follow.
"There you are, deary!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed as she spotted Harry. "Ronikins said you were tossing and turning in your sleep. I hope you weren't having a nightmare again."
"No, it's alright." Harry answered, feeling only slightly bad at not telling her about his ballet dream. Nobody needed to know about that one or they would say the dream was some way for his subconsciousness to express the desire to perform ballet.
And he certainly did not want to do ballet.
"Are you sure?" She asked, examining him with the typical worry of a mother. "Yes, Mrs Weasley, I am sure." She continued to look at him suspiciously, but after a moment nodded her head and didn't ask any further. She probably knew he wasn't telling the truth, but just like the mother she was she had sensed that he didn't want to talk about it.
"I'm only worried about you, my dear." She said nevertheless. Harry nodded again. "I've forgotten to give these to Arthur. Would you mind setting them on the table?" Mrs Weasley asked, giving some plates to Harry. He nodded to her and went about to do his task.
Entering the sitting room Harry was greeted with the bustling household of the Weasleys.
Bill and Charlie were talking to each other, occasionally laughing out loud while Fleur was presenting her little son to Penelope Clearwater, Percy's fiancée. Meanwhile Percy was being pranked by Fred and George – their way of saying that they still hadn't completely forgiven him for his behaviour during the war. Hermione and Ginny were talking, Harry could only assume, about girly things while Ron and Mr. Weasley did the finishing touches to the table – they didn't appear to have noticed that the plates were missing.
"There you are, mate! Took you long enough!" Ron said as soon as he spotted Harry. "My boy, you are finally here." Mr. Weasley said. "This means we can start breakfast."
As if on cue everybody sat down somewhere at the table. Harry squeezed himself between Ron and Charlie and as soon as Mrs Weasley had served the food a merry Christmas breakfast started. Everyone was having fun and the twins almost blew up the Christmas tree, but Charley was able to save the day with one of his spells normally used for the more fire-breathing kind of dragon. Mrs Weasley scolded the twins, but they did nothing more than to grin broadly at each other and to say "Yes, mum" or "No, mum" occasionally to show they were more or less listening what their mother had to say to them.
Harry assumed that they already knew it by heart. After all they tended to do a lot of pranks.
However, it did nothing to dampen the mood at the table and instead, everyone laughed when George ate a sweet – while his mother was still scolding him – and his hair turned a nice colour of green. Even Mrs Weasley couldn't resist a slight chuckle.
When breakfast was over Harry and the family moved over to sit by the Christmas tree. Presents were already waiting in front of it to be opened. Anybody younger than the twins – the twins included – sat down on the carpet in front of the tree while the rest of the family took a seat on sofas and armchairs.
Chatting and laughing ensued while the whole family took its time to catch up with each other if they hadn't already done that during breakfast.
"Alright, everyone." Mr. Weasley tried to calm down the loud mass. "Who wants to give his or her present first?"
A racket broke out over who would give their present first and to whom.
Ginny was about ready to punch on of the twins, Percy trying to placate his enraged sister, when Ron shouted over the bickering crowd, "Hey, guys! I think I should give mine first."
"Ever since when are you capable of thinking, Ronald?" Hermione asked.
"Yes, Ronald, ever since when are you capable of thinking?" Fred repeated, smirking at his little brother.
"You would need a brain for that." George continued, a grin stealing on his features as well.
"And since you don't have one..." Fred didn't finish his sentence.
"Shut up!" Ron exclaimed and was about to punch his brothers.
"Ronald!" Mrs Weasley shouted, looking accusingly at her youngest son. "Don't you dare do that!"
"Sorry mum, but they started it!" Ron defended his actions.
"That's still no reason to punch your brothers."
Smirking behind their mother's back, their eyes glinted with satisfaction as they watched their little brother being scolded.
"Don't think I can't see that, Fred, George!" Mrs Weasley said, not turning around to face the twins. Instinctively, she knew about her most devious sons' behaviour.
"Creepy." Both of them said. They would never find out how their mother always did that – how she always knew what they were doing, even behind her back. They refused the idea of a mother with an extra sense only used for the bad behaviour of her children.
Turning from scolding the twins, she smiled at her youngest son and asked, "What were you about to say, Ron?"
"I thought I should give my present to Harry because I haven't seen him very often since he started living with Fenrir after the defeat of you-know-who. I want to show him my appreciation."
Harry was very happy that his friendship with Ron hadn't suffered when he had mated with Fenrir. Of course, in the beginning the redhead hadn't been very happy about it, but with time he had accepted the way things were. And because Ron had finally accepted them Harry had decided to stay with the Weasleys for Christmas morning.
"Ok, then go ahead, Ronikins!" George said.
"Yes, we didn't know you were thaaaaaat jealous of Fenrir." Fred said, a smirk already tugging at his lips.
"You're too late now, Harry's already mated." George continued, grinning full out at his younger brother.
"Ronikins's in loove. Ronikins's in loohoooove!" Fred chanted, taking the hands of his twin brother and started dancing circles with him.
"Shut up, you!" Ron complained, his face turning red.
Harry couldn't say if it was because of anger or because of embarrassment. He hoped it was the first option... He couldn't deal with a love struck best friend.
Then again, Ron was dating Hermione. A love confession from him was thus highly unlikely.
"Stop it, you two. You're making Ron uncomfortable." Mr. Weasley finally intervened. "Let's instead see what Ron got for Harry."
When the two finally shut up and the whole room was curious to see Ron's present, he gave it to Harry.
Pleasant anticipation flooded the boy-who-lived as he took the gift from his friend to start to unravel it.
Funnily enough more and more pink appeared while more of the wrapping vanished.
Anticipation turning to flat out dread, Harry finally took out the contents of the remaining package.
He held a pink tutu in his hands.
Screaming, he jumped to his feet and ran out of the house, arms flailing over his head.
Bolting upright in his and Fenrir's pile of furs, he looked around – again.
Harry's gaze fell on the entrance of the cave. The in-falling light of the sun told him that it was midday already, but the pack was still sleeping. The single members were either on one another or next to one another, snoring happily. Even the little pups who had been in an uproar the whole last day were still out cold on Christmas morning. They had been full of curious anticipation and couldn't wait to receive their presents. Now they were snuggled close to each other, their eyes shut tightly while they were wandering the realm of dreams.
After he was sure nobody needed his help with anything he sunk back down, his head coming to rest on the alpha's chest.
Why was nobody up already? They should already be celebrating Christmas morning, right?
His breath stopped for a moment when a thought struck his mind.
What if this was still a dream? After all he had already woken up from a dream in a dream – twice.
His heart started pounding in his chest.
What if he was caught in some kind of spell that would let him wake up in another dream again and again so he would never see the light of reality ever again?
Not before now did he notice one of Fenrir's arms over his hip, holding him possessively. His mate's strong heartbeat was calming him down.
A smile tugged at his lips. Even if this was a dream, he knew with Fenrir in it, it couldn't be that bad. After all he would protect Harry from anything.
Thinking about protecting... Harry was surprised that the alpha hadn't woken yet. Normally he would kill anything that startled his little mate, and not until after having killed he would ask questions.
Harry decided, after another glance at his mate, that it was safe to fall asleep again. After all, Fenrir was still sleeping soundly, and he wouldn't do that if danger was nearby.
Besides if slumbering the day away was the werewolves' way of celebrating Christmas morning he could deal with it as long as he wouldn't wake up somewhere else again.
Settling back down against the alpha's strong chest he let slumber overcome him.
Warmth flooded Harry's senses as his neck was tenderly lavished by something hot and slick. At first he tried to get rid of the annoying thing but when it was replaced by sharp canines biting his mating mark softly, Harry's eyes opened to look straight into his mate's face.
A sleepy smile crept onto his features.
He loved his mate's tender gestures.
Slinging his arms around the alpha's neck, Harry pulled him down to kiss him lightly on the lips.
They remained in that position for Harry to chase away the last bits of sleepiness.
"Come, little one, it is time." Fenrir finally said when he was sure that Harry was awake.
The little one nodded his acceptance so the alpha stood up and offered Harry a hand for help, which the boy-who-lived took gladly. As always the alpha used the utmost care while taking care of his little one, no matter the circumstances.
Giving him a once over, Fenrir was pleased with his mate's state of wakefulness and finally guided him to the entrance of the cave carefully, not letting loose of his fingers.
Just before they reached the outside, Fenrir covered Harry's eyes with his hands.
The boy-who-lived could hear the bustling of the pack and strangely enough the crackling of fire as well.
Arching an eyebrow in confusion – werewolves were not really happy with fire nearby, maybe due to their close connection with mother nature – Harry was about to ask when Fenrir said, "It's a surprise."
Being calmed but still curious Harry let himself be guided to wherever Fenrir led him. The snow that had been falling the previous night was scruntching under his feet and reached his ankles.
Harry was sure he was still somewhere in front of the cave when they stopped.
"Are you ready?" The alpha asked softly, whispering in his mate's ear, afterwards nuzzling his neck tenderly.
Leaning his head to the side to offer some more place to be caressed, Harry let it happen and growled in appreciation.
He liked every last bit of his strong alpha's attentions. And that didn't mean just the mating. The loving gestures his mate used to take care of him or just a simple caress to the cheek for no apparent reason were enough for Harry to drift on cloud number nine.
When finally his curiosity got the better of him, Harry stopped his mate's soft ministrations and said, "I'm ready."
After one last lick to his neck, Fenrir did as he was told and took his hands from Harry's eyes.
Slowly – and somewhat reluctant all of a sudden – Harry opened his eyes and his breath caught in his throat upon the sight before him.
It was a beautiful night with bright shining stars and the moon gifting them with her rays. A somewhat cool breeze touched their skin, but the bonfires burning around the opening in front of the cave – the opening they normally ate their meals at – heated the cold night air. The snow had been charted away so that the pack could sit down without having to worry about getting sick.
In the middle of the opening stood the pack's Christmas tree.
A smile tugged at Harry's lips.
The tree was decorated with nuts, cones, moss, some little carcasses of some animal or another and who knew whatever else the forest had to offer. Antlers adorned the top of the tree.
It was beautiful!
Different... but beautiful.
"It's lovely." The boy-who-lived whispered.
Strong arms slung around his waist and a heavy head fell onto his shoulder while a tongue started licking at Harry's throat again.
"I'm glad." The alpha said before he was gone, directing pack members to put several carcasses in an extra spot. Then he let himself be conquered by the pups who climbed onto him and brought him down, efficiently making a pile of ruddy werewolf fur.
The other pack members were all taking care of last minute chores or if they were done with them they would be talking to each other, laughing or smiling at their alpha's antics.
Their normally stoic leader played with the pups without restraint, not caring for a public image that a lot of people thought he had to uphold. Nipping playfully at them and pawing them he grinned ear to ear.
Not a sight one would normally see.
Only during Christmas time would one be able to catch something like that.
It showed that deep down inside Fenrir would be a capable father, the whole pack knew.
Harry noticed another smile sneaking onto his features.
That happened an awful lot these days...
Maybe the pack wouldn't have to wait that long any more, Harry thought while his hand stroked over his stomach absent-mindedly.
When the alpha finally managed to free himself, he sat up and smirked happily at the little ones, showing off his sharp and deadly canines. The pups at first were uncertain but than returned his smile with vigour and asked, "Fenrir, are we getting our presents now?"
Their eyes got bigger and bigger while they moved in on him, two of them almost sitting down onto his lap.
Harry's mate laughed out loud and said, "That eager, huh?"
Then he ruffled one of the pup's hair and continued, "You'll get them when the rest of the pack is finished with preparations."
Looking around, Fenrir ascertained the situation.
He was different with the pups.
He did not force them into submission.
He was not the strict leader he was with the rest of the members – except for Harry.
"Seems like everyone's ready." Fenrir said.
Even his manner of speaking changed. It wasn't as serious and as respect-inducing when with them.
The pack sat down in a circle around the Christmas tree, their backs to the warming bonfires.
Harry appreciated the warmth because without his strong alpha's arms around his middle he felt cold.
Another thing that happened an awful lot these days. Without Fenrir around he felt exposed to the world, vulnerable, and nothing but the strong embrace of his mate could remedy that.
When finally everybody was settled the inpatient pups got their gifts.
Fenrir was sitting in front of their make-shift Christmas tree in front of a huge pile of presents and distributed them, just like one of the Santa Clauses Harry had seen in the bigger supermarkets when he had been younger and strangely enough the Dursleys had taken him along.
The pups went to him one after another and Fenrir would give them a present – after he had asked if they had been good pups that year, mind you.
Most of them got toys made out of wood or stone – they were werewolves after all and if they got hit by a stone toy it wouldn't be that serious – or stuffed animals out of the furs of some previous prey. Some of them got new clothes sewn out of the coats of the hunted animals or if their parents had been rich or had some savings they got clothes that had been bought in Diagon Alley or somewhere else. The older ones got little daggers – if they were trustworthy to not harm one another – to protect themselves should they get parted from the pack.
The adults smiled contently while watching the future of their pack play with their new things, the ones who had gotten little daggers even fought playfully, always mindful not to hurt one another. They knew they would feel the wrath of the whole pack should they cut out an eye or something else. Besides that they didn't want to disgrace their parents and fail their trust in them.
Making sure the pups were occupied one last time, Fenrir stood up and walked over to Harry, who set next to a bonfire to warm himself.
He had been feeling off the past few days and the warmth of the fire was more than welcome, even his wolf side didn't protest – much.
While the pups were playing the other pack members started exchanging gifts as well.
Fenrir and Harry got quite a lot due to their status – who would be crazy enough not to get their leader a present? They ranged from rare meat to special crafted daggers to even little jewellery. Normally Harry would protest against receiving one or two necklaces, but his being beta enabled the pack to gift him with them. It didn't mean that Harry was considered weak or that he had to be a woman, but it showed their appreciation as the calming hand to Fenrir's volatile side.
When finally the last pack members had paid their respects, Fenrir turned to his mate. He embraced him and pulled him close, stroking over his back.
If Harry didn't know better, he would say Fenrir's need to touch had increased instead of lessened. The alpha licked the shell of Harry's ear before he pulled away and said, "I've waited to give you this for ages, little one!"
Was Fenrir pouting? That couldn't be, right?
Producing a box himself, Fenrir gave it to Harry.
"Open it." He prompted.
Harry couldn't stop himself from noticing the pink band around the wrapping but didn't think his mate would dare to present him with a pink tutu – at least not if he valued his spot next to Harry in their pile of furs.
Opening it, Harry was met with the sight of a recently ripped out heart. Veins were still attached to it, viciously torn from the rest of the net of life stream. The precious red liquid was gathering around it.
Amusement filled Harry while his eyes were still focused on it.
Fenrir's choice was a bit... strange, but then again, Harry could see the logic in it.
Why should his alpha give something like kitchen utensils to him if he didn't need it? Something like a heart was much more useful because Harry could eat it. It would suffice as a meal – a great one, if the watering of Harry's mouth was anything to go by.
He just couldn't resist. Hunger suddenly pushed to the forefront while his wolf keened at his mate's strength.
The heart was big so a powerful person had been needed to take its owner down and if the smell was anything to go by, it had been a rare animal.
His mate could provide for him!
"That's still not all." A strong voice whispered at his ear.
Looking up, his mouth already full with saliva, his pupils slightly dilated at the delicious aroma, Harry looked inquiringly at the alpha.
Another present was pushed into Harry's hands.
Hunger momentarily forgotten, he peeked curiously at it.
It was bigger than the first one, but Harry couldn't fathom what it could be.
Ripping the wrappings away, Harry was greeted with a thick coat of furs.
If the boy-who-lived wasn't mistaken, it was the fur of the bear that had threatened their pack not so long ago. Harry had been out playing with the pups in a clearing in front of a lake when suddenly a bear had appeared out of no-where. Immediately the boy-who-lived had cursed his lips because he had remembered Fenrir's warning about a bear wreaking havoc in his territory. And of course Harry just had had to meet him!
The boy-who-lived wasn't weak, by no means – otherwise he wouldn't have become the alpha's mate – but he couldn't take on a bear all on his own while still protecting the little ones.
So Harry had been backed into a corner, his body defensively in front of the pups while snarling viciously at the attacker and once in a while he would snap or claw at the bear.
Of course, it hadn't taken long for Fenrir and the fighters of the pack to reach them. Finally, they had been able to track it and it led them to Harry and the pups.
Upon seeing his mate in mortal danger, his wolf side took over and he ripped the beast apart, not needing any help although normally, he would have.
Blood had been spluttered all over Fenrir, his claws extended and holding several bloody and still pulsing intestines, his canines tainted in the life blood of the bear while they had been biting down on a chunk of flesh. His eyes had been wild – they had almost seemed to have forgotten humanity.
When Harry had tried to calm him down, the alpha had growled at him. Only momentarily intimidated, the boy-who-lived had slowly reached for his mate and had stopped inches away from him so the strong alpha could sniff his hand.
A first whiff had been everything Fenrir had needed to recognize his mate. He had pulled him towards him and embraced him in a possessive hold, his wolf still not retreating, and sat down with him. Instead of scolding him, Harry had stroked over Fenrir's hair tenderly and nipped at his throat to show his appreciation. Then he had waited for his mate to calm down until he bestowed a shy kiss upon him – after all they couldn't do much more with the little pups around.
But Fenrir's throbbing manhood rubbing at his behind had told him they would be doing much more coming night.
In retrospect, Harry wondered if that had been the fateful night...
Harry's eyes widened at the fine craftsmanship of the coat. Its fur was fluffy but it wouldn't tear under any strain. He hadn't noticed its softness when he had been under attack.
Who could blame him, though?
But it was still beautiful.
With wide eyes, Harry turned to look at his mate.
"You tend to freeze when I'm not around. And I will not have any other warm you in my stead." He said rather possessively. "No one but me or the coat."
Tenderly, Harry caressed Fenrir's cheek.
"I'm not going to leave you." He said.
Harry knew, deep down inside the alpha was still afraid that he would one day wake up and realize that all of this – their mating and life together – had been a dream or that Harry would leave him.
As if he could! Leaving Fenrir behind would mean ripping his heart out! Without him, Harry would slowly wither away and die pathetically. Besides that he couldn't do that to his mate. He would go mad with him, this time for real.
The wizarding world had tended to accuse him of already being so, but Harry knew better. Fenrir hadn't been nuts. In fact, he had been one of the most sane persons he had ever met. The alpha had just tended to spread the wrong picture of himself around so he and his pack wouldn't be approached or bothered that much.
And with this prejudice set, Fenrir had been able to lead his pack relatively peacefully. Of course, you had to omit the short alliance with Voldemort... That had been a momentary lapse of control on Fenrir's part...
"And the heart?" Harry asked. Although he had been living with the pack for quite some time now and he was one with his wolf, most of the time he had no idea what he was eating.
He wasn't one for hunting.
Killing had never been very appealing to him.
Once had been enough...
"A strong boar. I would've brought a stag but you tend to like boars more. Besides that stags aren't really challenging. They tend to get stuck with their horns if two trees stand too close."
A chuckle escaped Harry's lips. He could already picture what a turn off that would be. After all, he knew how much his mate appreciated a real challenge. Not a lot of people could provide him with one. Boars tended to destroy everything in their way or attack head on and were much more of a challenge than stags.
Moments later, his mate followed his light laughing.
"And what did you get me?" Fenrir finally asked, his curiosity getting the better of him, his laughter turning into a soft smile.
"Nothing as special as you." Harry said while pulling out a present of his own.
Eager, Fenrir took it and opened it.
Harry had made some new shirts for Fenrir, no matter the alpha's dislike for them. Not even he could walk around bare-chested during winter and catch a cold so Harry had taken the left overs of the furs – he had even made sure to take the softest he could find so Fenrir would get as less irritated by them as possible – and made some new shirts out of them.
"I appreciate them." Fenrir said and pulled one of them on. It fit Fenrir just fine, surprisingly. After all Harry couldn't just go to him and demand that he model for him.
The alpha pulled his mate into his arms and stroked softly down his back again.
Harry burrowed his head underneath Fenrir's chin and closed his eyes, enjoying the moment while contentment rose inside of him.
Life just couldn't get any better. He loved to be here, with his pack, the pups, and most importantly, his mate. He loved his mate's tender gestures.
Eyes still closed, Harry said, "You know, that's still not all. I've more."
But he made no move to get another gift for Fenrir. He was too comfortable where he was and he was nervous about what the alpha's reaction would be.
Fenrir, who sensed his mate's sudden reluctance, didn't push him. Instead one of his hands continued to caress Harry, while the other stroked the little one's neck, his tongue licking the little one's mating mark. It sent pleasurable tingles down Harry's body and he released a content sigh.
He could die like this and not care.
"So what is your other present?" Fenrir asked.
Taking his alpha's hand that was on his back into his own, Harry guided it along his body until it reached his tummy and stopped there to rest.
Burrowing his head even deeper into the alpha's shoulder, he said, "I'm pregnant."
For a moment, nothing happened.
The other pack members had long since drifted out of importance, but now an eerie silence existed in which the boy-who-lived didn't dare to raise his head and look his mate into the eyes, afraid of what he would find there.
But before Harry could imagine any more horror scenes, the hand at Harry's neck went to his chin and pushed his head up so Fenrir could look him, a strange glint in his eyes.
"Really?" The alpha asked, a strange roughness in his voice.
Harry nodded, still unsure of the situation. He didn't know what to think of the strange tone of his mate and the gleam in his eyes. Was it similar to Albus' twinkling eyes?
And what if so? That meant something bad for him, right? Because every time Albus' eyes had twinkled, he had cooked up one of his ridiculous plans to save the world! And most of the time Harry had to suffer under them.
But he had still liked the old codger... No matter how strange the late headmaster had been.
Staring disbelievingly at the little one for a moment longer, the ice finally broke and Fenrir bear-hugged him, a happy smile gracing his normally stern features.
"Merry Christmas." Harry said while smiling softly up at his mate.
"Merry Christmas." Fenrir replied, before leaning down to tenderly kiss his mate.
Actually, I just had the scene with the dancing Lucius, Snape and Voldemort in mind but I got carried away and it developed into 15 openoffice pages... (I wrote the last 5 of them in one day... that was a pain because acutally I wasn't in the mood...) Beta'ing them alone without any help was quite a pain as well... but I think I did okay.
Hope you liked it although its quite... strange...
And if anybody of our readers of The Distance In Your Eyes is reading this... The next chapter is... almost... done... I just need to beta it... I think...
Merry (belated) Christmas and Happy New Year to everybody!!!
Read and review please!