if & only if
A HariPo drabble
Note: The Harry Potter characters belong to J.K. Rowling, not me. This pairing was discovered by me, so please gimme a little mention if you write them! Thanks! It is one of many of Mew and Mor's Weird Pairings, most of which you may find in the M&MWP forum. Check out and join the forum FUN! Read, review, and enjoy!
I look in the mirror and see only pock marks.
All right, so maybe that's not the only thing I see. My eyes can't help wandering to the nipped flesh on the nape of my neck. And I can't help but notice how flushed and full my lips look on this early morning (if ten o'clock is early).
But even if I get distracted by other little things, I still settle on pock marks.
Sure, I suppose puberty hits everyone. Except maybe celebrities. There'd never been a picture of the Weird Sisters where the band members had been hideous, right? And even if Harry had his scar, Ron Weasley his freckles, and Granger her bad teeth, they'd never been too horrible to look at.
Yet, here I stand, a grown woman in front of her bathroom mirror, poking her ruddy cheeks with nail-bitten fingers. And I sigh. Even after falling in love, I still half think it's a miracle.
See, my love is unconventional—witch meets werewolf, witch falls in love with werewolf, werewolf makes sure to stop by once in a while despite his life on the run because he knows he has a home with said witch. But I still feel as though, some mornings, I might wake up and discover it's all a dream. And when I go back to sleep, the next time I'll wake up I will discover that I'm in my empty cottage, cooking before bartering goods in the nearby villages.
But it's not a dream, because here comes my wolf in the flesh. Oh, Merlin, I wish he wouldn't walk around starkers when he felt like it… But somehow all my anxieties melt away as he wraps his tanned arms around my shoulders, mindful of his claws. Even though Fenrir doesn't like his own appearance in the mirror (ha, aren't we two of the same kind?), I see one eye peeking around my ear as he buries his face in my hair. Sometimes, it's as though he can't get enough of me, even the sight of me.
And even if he did call me "ugly" when we'd first met and had barely known each other…I know he wouldn't call me that now. He doesn't say it—he's still rather gruff—but he disagrees with me over my looks. Even now, watching him watch me in the mirror, I can tell that he'd like to say that I'm beautiful, or pretty even. He doesn't say it because he's still too much of a grunting mute, but I can read it in his eyes.
And when he draws one finger along my cheek so softly…I tighten my grip on his arms. Because he probably doesn't see pock marks. If anything, the scars look like freckles to him, and maybe he thinks freckles are cute. I'm sure he does, because he's smiling so gently as my eyes tear up and I grip his forearms even harder and—holy Helga, how can it be that he makes me feel so beautiful? Aren't we just two ugly creatures who had nothing left to lose?
He chuckles, and it's a rumble that I feel through my back, and it warms me to my core. Oh, Fenrir, I love you, you ruthless git.
If and only if I am beautiful…then maybe I'll start to think of this less and less as a dream. Maybe I do look better with "freckles" anyway. He seems to like them as he kisses my cheek.
Ahh, it's been too long. -w- I love Elfen…still working on "The Sound of an Amorous Stranger," but I drew another Elfen picture and just had to write a drabble for them. There really is an allure to Fenrir, and I think Eloise has an appeal, too. Poor girl, though…acne can be awful… But what a revolutionary idea, to see the scars and think "freckles" instead. Fenrir does think that, by the way, even though he probably would never say it. :3
Thanks for reading and please review!