Chapter Text
─── ⋅ ⋅ ∘ ☽ August 15, 1963 ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
Molly Prewett considered herself to be a sensible witch, but after two years of stolen touches and whispered words of affection in the dark corners of Hogwarts Castle, she was almost giddy as she lay on a quilt in a meadow an hour’s walk from Prewett Hall. Completely alone.
With Fenrir Greyback.
He was the most handsome boy she had ever seen, with his tall, muscular build, sandy blonde hair, hazel eyes, and chiseled Eastern European features. Not only was he handsome, but he was also a perfect gentleman with her, despite being two years older. He was sweet and kind, and never asked for anything she wasn’t willing to give him. She especially liked how gentle he was with her. In the last year, he had shot up to well above six feet, and that, paired with his broad size, meant he practically dwarfed her. Not that she would ever say it out loud, but she found these new changes to be quite thrilling.
Fen was nearly perfect in every way, and she had been thrilled that her family had welcomed him with such open arms. Her mother adored him, her father respected him, and he indulged Fabian and Gideon’s highjinx with endless patience. The only real flaw, and she wouldn’t even call it that, not really, was that he was in Slytherin House. Molly didn’t particularly care for the other boys in Fen’s year, and often wished he would venture out and make friends from one of the other Houses. There was also the fact that his family had much different customs than they had in Britain, and he was not technically allowed to court anyone. Even at that moment, laying in their shady spot, they were technically sneaking around as far as his family was concerned. He was supposed to be with Mulciber or Avery for the week before he headed home, but when he wrote to her father and asked to visit her, he was promptly offered a room at the opposite end of the manor house, as was proper.
He had just finished his schooling, and Molly had her sixth and seventh years left, but if all went according to plan, they would be betrothed the following summer. At that time, she would travel with him to Slovakia to holiday with his family before her final year at Hogwarts.
“Tell me again,” Molly said as she rolled to face him and propped herself up on her elbow.
“I love you, Molls,” Fen said with a playful smile, as a strand of sandy blonde hair fell down onto his tanned forehead.
She tutted at him and smoothed it back into place. “That is not what I meant, and you know it. I want to make a good impression when I finally meet your family, Fen. It would only be proper for me to know their traditions.”
Fen heaved a theatrical sigh. “Alright, you silly witch. You know that I am not permitted to court until the Winter Solstice ritual, yes?” She nodded in confirmation, and he continued, “This is how it has been for men in my family for generations. They say that we know our soulmate after the ritual, but, personally, I believe it is to prevent any unwanted heirs from being produced outside of the marriage bed.”
Molly flushed, which made a crooked smile tug across his face. Like any proper gentleman, he didn’t comment on it, but did reach over to gently stoke her cheek with the back of his forefinger. “Are you familiar with old magic rites? I believe they call it ancestral magic here in Britain.”
“Yes,” she said with a nod. “My father only uses it for the property wards, but from what he has said, it’s a bit of blood magic and talking to the earth?”
Fen gave a deep chuckle that radiated into her chest. “Yes, different cultures have different customs. Some talk to the earth, others to the stars, but in my country, we talk to the moon. Once a month, all the men who are of age meet to renew the rites. My father says it is to make us stronger, but I am almost certain they are using it as an excuse to drink overpriced brandy and lose large quantities of gold in card games their wives would not approve of.”
“And what of the wives? Does your mother believe them to be soulmates?” Molly asked curiously.
In response, he offered her his right hand, angling it so she could see his golden signet ring. It had a white pearlescent stone inlaid in its face and runes carved into its sides. “She does. After the solstice ritual, she will take this ring and have it made into a pendant for my soulmate to wear. That,” he pointed towards the stone, “is a moonstone. And it has our family crest etched on the inside. My mother selected it for me with my future bride in mind. Whoever the beautiful witch is that I am destined to spend eternity with, will apparently look best in gold.”
He made a to-do of glancing at the golden Prewett family ring that sat on her little finger, then winked at her.
Molly felt herself go crimson, but couldn’t fight the smile that crept across her face. “Is that right?”
“It is,” he said in a husky voice. He then slowly leaned in and placed a delicate kiss upon her lips. Molly’s eyes fluttered shut as he continued to kiss her gently and guided her to lay back on the quilt.
Just like with everything else, Fen was sweet and soft with her as he settled between her thighs. He didn’t crush her with his weight, nor did he ruck up her skirt completely, but he did trail his hand up her left leg to encourage it to wrap around his waist.
“Can I share another sacred family tradition with you, Molls?” Fen asked in a whisper against her lips.
“Yes,” she replied breathlessly.
He pulled back a few inches to look her in the eye. “When I was younger, I thought it was overly dramatic, and my father scolded me. He said I would understand one day, and now I’m certain he was right.”
Molly cupped his handsome face as he took a moment to find his words.
“Once we have found our soulmate, merely saying ‘I love you’ won’t be enough,” Fen explained softly, his tone almost reverent.
She felt like her heart was going to break free from her chest. “What do you say instead?”
“Budem ťa potrebovať, kým mesiac nespadne z neba,” Fen replied in Slovak.
A thrill went through her every time he did so, making an unfamiliar heat pool in her lower belly.
Fen leaned in and kissed her as if he was sealing some sort of promise.
“What does it mean?” she asked once he broke the kiss.
He peered down at her with nothing but love in his eyes. “I’ll be needing you, Molly Prewett. ‘Till the moon falls from the sky.”
Molly couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped her. “So forever?”
“Forever,” he promised, then sealed it with a kiss.
─── ⋅ ⋅ ∘ ☽ January 2, 1964 ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
The first term of her sixth year had dragged on and on, and she had been counting down the days until the winter holidays. Fen had written her nearly every single day, telling her how he loved her, talking of his upcoming ritual and planning a visit for after Christmas.
But then, he stopped responding altogether.
Molly had not heard from him since the morning of the Winter Solstice. He had not come to Prewett Hall. All of her owls had gone unanswered.
The implications of what that meant filled her with a constant sensation of fear and dread in the pit of her stomach. Had he found his soulmate, gone to her instead? Had he been hurt? Did he simply change his mind about her? She knew immediately that she would not be able to bear seeing him with another.
“You worry too much, Molly,” Fabian called as he strode into the room with a letter held high in one hand, and Gideon hot on his heels. “It’s from Greyback!”
“Open it!” Gideon said cheerfully. “We simply must know what has been so important that he couldn’t come for Christmas.”
Molly ignored them both and quickly ripped the letter open.
Molls,
We need to talk. Meet me in our spot at midnight.
Fen
She flipped it over to make sure there was nothing on the back and then read it again, and again, and again.
Fabian leaned over her to read, then wrapped his arm around her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Oh, sister…”
“Is it bad?” Gideon asked, his jovial tone all but vanished.
“‘We need to talk,’ and a request to meet privately,” Fabian replied in a somber tone as she stood frozen in place.
Gideon crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her as well. “Do you want us to come with you? You know we will.”
Molly took a fortifying breath, then swatted their hands away. They may tower over her now, but they were still her baby brothers. “I am quite sure I can handle myself, thank you very much.”
They laughed in unison. “No one who knows you would ever doubt that for a second, right, Gid?”
“Right! If Greyback knows what’s good for him, he will shield his bollocks before he starts.”
She laughed in spite of herself, and really hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
─── ⋅ ⋅ ∘ ☽ January 3, 1964 ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
By the time she made it to the meadow, she was half frozen. She had cast several warming charms, but the frigid air still nipped at her.
All thoughts of the cold were gone when she stepped into the clearing and saw Fen crumpled on the ground, his body heaving with sobs. He was in a shredded dress shirt that appeared to have blood splattered across it.
Molly ran for him.
When she was only a few pieces away, he held up a hand to stop her and squeezed his eyes tightly. “P-please, Molls. Just give me a moment.”
Her steps halted, but she couldn’t stop her eyes from roaming his body. Fen was covered in cuts and bruises, and looked to be in immense pain.
Tears stung at her eyes as she stared in horror. “What happened to you?”
His shoulders sagged as if he was relieved. “Gods, your voice sounds so good. So fucking good,” he groaned.
That brought Molly up short. He had only ever spoken like that during their stolen moments of intimacy, which hadn’t been very often.
“What do—“
“Come here,” he said in a low voice, cutting across her words.
She took tentative steps forward and stopped directly in front of where he knelt, with his eyes still pinched closed.
“Why won’t you look at me, Fen?” She asked softly because the moment felt fragile.
He gave a humorless laugh, then scrubbed his hand across his face. “I’m scared to, Molls.”
Without her telling it to do so, her hand found its way to his overly warm cheek. His skin almost felt like it was burning, despite the frigid temperature. “Why?”
“Because it may just break my heart,” Fen replied in a broken whisper as he nuzzled into her touch.
“I love you, I would never allow for that, and I can be brave enough for the both of us.” Molly brought her free hand to cup his other cheek and gently guided his face upwards. “Look at me.”
Fen’s eyes snapped open as if her words had been a command, and the world shifted on its axis.
As soon as their eyes had connected, his hazel eyes flared to a bright, molten gold color, and a searing pain erupted in the center of her chest. It felt like the molten gold from his eyes was somehow burning a hole through her very soul.
“Mate.”
Molly was nearly panting as she tried to breathe through the pain. “W-what? What did you say?”
“Mate,” he growled out, before sagging in obvious relief and snaked his long, strong arms under her cloak and around her waist. “Thank the gods. I was so fucking scared to lose you, Molls.”
His touch eased the pain immediately, but she couldn’t make sense of any of it. “Why does it hurt, Fen?”
His whole demeanor shifted in instant, and she was suddenly on her back with him laying over her, trailing kisses up her neck. “This will help.”
Molly felt the cold air bite at her thighs as he rucked up her skirts.
“I won’t,” he promised in a low whisper as he soothed the chill by running his overly warm hands across her exposed legs. “Being close like this will help. When we finally are together, in every sense, it will make the pain go away almost entirely. I won’t hurt you, Molls, I swear it.”
She gripped his handsome face with both hands as he settled his weight on top of her, trying to understand what had changed. Admittedly, it did make her feel better to be close to him in such an intimate way.
“What happened to you, Fen? Was it the ritual? Please, tell me.”
Reluctance washed over his features as his eyes flashed the golden color once more. He took a calming breath, and leaned down to kiss her just once.
“You should know that as my mate, I will never be able to deny you, even when I so badly want to do so.” Fen huffed out a breath, then buried his face in her neck. “The ritual was more of an initiation.”
Gently, she stroked his hair and waited for him to continue. It broke her heart to see him struggling so hard just to find his words.
“Do you remember what I told you about the old magic rites? How, in my country, we talk to the moon?”
“Yes,” she said in a measured tone, not bothering to hide her confusion.
“It’s not just talk. The men in my family live and die by the moon every month, and have for generations. My father is what they call an Alpha.” Fen sighed heavily, truly sounding heartbroken. “I was never going to escape this fate, Molls.”
Her fingers stilled and gave his hair a little tug, forcing him to look up at her. “What fate? What do you mean?”
His beautiful face crumpled for a moment, then he sniffled and looked up at her with tears in his eyes. “On the night of the Winter Solstice, the initiation began. They cut me, and rubbed… it into the wounds,” he swallowed hard, “it went on for days, and then just before the full moon rose, my father bit me. The sickness… well… it took, which seemed to please them all greatly. They say I will be a strong Alpha just like my father.”
Molly didn’t understand what he was saying. “What sickness, Fen? Is that why you’re hurt? If you’d just tell me, maybe I could help you.”
Fenrir huffed out a humorless laugh and gave her a sad smile. “You are already helping me, just by being my mate.”
“Then what’s wrong?” she nearly begged. “Tell me!”
He leaned in and kissed her sweetly, then looked as if he was bracing for impact.
“They turned me, Molls. I’m a werewolf.”