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the calling of wolves and vipers, chapter 3

wizengamot meetings and tense admissions

ao3 link: the calling of wolves and vipers

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pairing: Draco Malfoy x Theodore Nott x Hermione Granger

description: draco, theo, and hermione navigate growing affections as they fight for werewolf rights. there are forces, however, which will stop at nothing to ensure their efforts are for naught.

word count: 5013

The Wizengamot was not something one would call efficient, more like bewilderingly circuitous. Every minute motion had to be discussed, dissected and then deliberated upon. Despite the straightforwardness of the bill being proposed for aurors to receive paid time off for traumatic missions, the members were bullheaded in their need to advocate for whatever devils filled their pockets.

Hermione could feel the frustration itching beneath her tight-clad knee, where it bounced with such rapidity that Theo finally reached over and steadied it, giving her a long look and a gentle nod.

Maybe it wasn’t so much that the Wizengamot was incapable of conducting business–though that was certainly a factor–she knew her nerves were getting the better of her. Theo and Hermione had an iron-clad proposal and many contingencies for any potential roadblocks the Wizengamot constructed. However, she couldn’t shake the feeling that regardless of their extensive research, the concept of werewolf equality was going to be too contentious to pass.

They couldn’t fail. They simply couldn’t. The Shift-House Act would provide safe harbor for werewolves across Wizarding Europe at least. They’d hammered out the fewest requests they could make with the greatest yield. All they wanted was for the Ministry to approve the construction and maintenance of secure apartment-type buildings for people with the werewolf gene to undergo the shift somewhere safe.

The Wizengamot seemed to have reached a decision on the request from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement on paid leave after traumatic missions. Hermione silently chastised herself for not listening more carefully on the outcome of that one, as Harry had been an advocate for it.

He’d tell her later, anyway, she mused.

“Can the representatives of the Shift-House Act please come forward from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, a Miss Hermione Granger,” there were some stifled groans from the back of the auditorium. Hermione smiled to herself, if being a thorn in the side of the Wizengamot was a badge of honor, she wore it proudly.

“And a Mister Theodore Nott.” The moderator of the session was a stately woman Hermione had met with before, Erin Whittock. She was a high ranking member of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and she seemed to have a complementary moral compass with Hermione. She received a modest incline of the head from Erin, which she returned.

Hermione and Theo stood with painstakingly rehearsed poise and professionalism and approached the podium with their notes. She smoothed her blazer, oblivious to the way his eyes trailed along the path of her fingers. As they came to the small set of steps that led up Hermione realized she was in heels and there wasn’t a railing, before she had even lifted her foot she felt his hand gently slip into hers and raise it up to stabilize her. She tilted her head up at him, steeling herself with a deep look square in his supportive eyes and inclined her head in thanks.

The warmth that burst through her hand hummed up her arm as though it were his hand itself that tipped her chin high and relaxed her shoulder muscles. Hermione nearly groaned when he released her, but the intense blaze of his eyes as her own skittered around the room replaced his physical touch. With his gaze warming the back of her neck, Hermione began.

Theo’s chest swelled with pride at the way his witch stared down the Wizengamot and drew her shoulders back confidently.

He hurried to shove his baser side down. Hermione was his work partner at the moment, not the woman he’d been slowly falling into orbit of. Getting pulled closer until an inevitable collision. He looked desperately forward to it.

But her draw was undeniable. As she gathered her notes at the podium he assumed the position behind her to the left, more bodyguard than colleague. He was more than happy to allow her to do all the talking. Although Theo considered himself charismatic–Draco called it dreadfully loquacious–he knew Hermione’s genuine intelligence and knowledge would get them further than his schmoozing.

“We are here to discuss the proposal of Ministry Sanctioned Werewolf Shifting Houses,” a distant scoff became a rushed clearing of a throat, “I will be presenting the logistics of the proposal and Theodore will be discussing the funding.”

One member of the Wizengamot was shifting in his seat and Hermione’s eyes sliced straight to his as his mouth opened, “We ask that you leave all questions until our proposal is complete, to preserve time and reduce redundancy.”

Theo had to stifle a snicker at her directness. Hermione was nothing if not a straight shooter. One of many qualities he admired in her. His deliciously courageous witch. His.

The reaction from the member was certainly less welcome, the slightly older man shifted uncomfortably. His eyes though, they roamed Hermione appraisingly. The man seemed to like a challenge, he was intrigued. Theo found himself imagining gripping the man’s throat and forcing him down to his knees, to apologize and grovel at Hermione’s feet. Daydream Hermione would be shocked but would softly tell Theo, ‘enough’. And like the good pet he was, he’d release the man and take up his vigil beside her once more.

What in Merlin’s name had gotten into him? Focus, Theo, now is decidedly NOT the time.

“First and foremost, this endeavor has already secured funding by anonymous donors who learned of our efforts. No monetary assistance will be required of the ministry.” Hermione paused to eye the stout financial advisor of the ministry, his beady eyes squinted at her over wire-rimmed glasses. Her direct challenge stirred something low in Theo’s stomach, as well as something lower, baser, within him. Theo chided himself, manage it, you relentless school-boy.

“We will require assistance in finding a construction company who specializes in werewolves, likely from overseas, considering Wizarding Britain’s-” Hermione cleared her throat pointedly and raised a brow, “-rudimentary efforts to include werewolves in society. We lack the technology and innovators that our contemporary countries have due to our prejudices.”

“We intend to provide accommodations that will not only keep the werewolves safe and contained during transition, but provide comfort and minimize stress. These considerations will be taken into account during construction and are non-negotiable. Theodore and I will manage all staffing of these shifting-houses, though we hope to partner with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to provide aurors on a rotating shift to protect those in shift, as we have seen a rise in attacks on werewolves during the vulnerability of the shift.”

“Should we secure a partnership between our efforts and the DMLE, we would look into compensating the aurors who participate in the rotation with an additional stipend and a training course that we are constructing similar to those in Albania to train aurors on non-lethal de-escalation with shifted werewolves.”

“We are proposing 3 shifting houses to start, a modest offering considering the skyrocketing numbers of afflicted individuals post-the Battle of Hogwarts. Each shifting house will accommodate roughly twenty individuals and we hope to expand our efforts with further locations should they be successful. A board will be assembled to oversee the operations of the shifting houses and ensure that they continue to serve our proposed population of werewolves. At this time Theodore will explain the minutia of funding allocations.”

Hermione stepped back and allowed Theo to replace her in front of the podium. Finally able to rest and relax the tension in her shoulders, she observed Theo as he outlined the financial plans.

Theo held himself with an air of confidence, as though he were hosting an intimate dinner party in his home, speaking with intimate friends, at all times. It was one of the things that had burrowed deep in her mind and planted seeds, sprouting the idea he could be something more to her than a mere friend or business partner. Competence was paramount to sexuality.

There was a soft humming in the auditorium, as Wizengamot members jotted scattered notes on parchment, some huffed in annoyance, but ultimately the request to withhold questions until the end of the presentation was upheld.

Theo drew his presentation to a close and glanced back over his shoulder. He caught Hermione’s whiskey honeyed eyes already on him. His searched her for just a moment before a lazy smile spread his pillowy lips. He gestured for her to come join him at the podium once more. He felt her warmth return to his side and the sensation nearly drew a throaty moan from him, but he swallowed it down.

“That will conclude our presentation on the Shift House Act and we will accept questions at this time. Thank you for your patience and consideration.” Theo announced and to Hermione’s dismay about fifteen wands illuminated, indicating questions to be answered.

The questions ranged from all manner of concerns. Valid queries about timelines and research to inane complaints that the act was unneeded in itself. Hermione chewed her bottom lip until warm iron filled her mouth. This act could positively impact so many lives. It would be a step toward inclusion and protection, therefore it needed to pass.

Her heart panged in her chest wildly as she glanced at the handsome werewolf beside her. If you asked Theo about whether the transition had been difficult he would easily laugh and supply a goofy anecdote. But Hermione had seen him return from shifting leave. She’d seen the bruised chasms beneath his eyes, and his hollow unseeing gaze. The shift was hard on the mind and body, and she would be damned if she allowed people like Theo to suffer any more than they had.

Erin Whittock had excused them once all questions had been answered and announced it was time for deliberation and voting. Theo, for all his nonchalance, was practically vibrating with apprehension. Hermione stretched her pinky beside her until it wrapped around his, the best reassurance she could provide while still appearing professional.

Theo’s breath sighed out at the touch, deflating his shoulders and tightened his pinkie solidly around hers.

“Witches and wizards of the Wizengamot, have you come to a decision on the proposed Shift House Act?” Erin’s alto tone rang through the room, amplified by her wand poised gently at her neck.

An elderly witch with plum covered velvety robes rose from her seat and amplified her voice, “We have. The Shift House Act will pass with the condition that a member of the Wizengamot, chosen by Miss Granger and Mister Nott be provided a seat on the board, are you content with these conditions?” She asked as she turned toward Theo and Hermione where they stood frozen on the spot.

Hermione’s heart leapt in her chest, “We gladly accept those conditions. Thank you all for your time and consideration.” Her voice was sure and complimentary but Hermione swore she could’ve cast a forty foot otter patronus on the spot in utter joy.

The meeting ended shortly thereafter with Theo offered Hermione his arm as he led her out of the auditorium.

Wide eyes turned on Hermione, “We did it! You did it.” Theo paused once they’d turned the corner and stood off to the side in the hallway. He gripped her hands in his and leaned forward until his forehead softly touched hers, “Thank you for caring about us,” he whispered, warm breath slipping against her lips. Hermione leaned forward and was about to chase his lips but stopped herself before they connected, blushing furiously, remembering their setting.

“Let’s celebrate,” Theo’s eyes glinted mischievously and Hermione’s stomach clenched in anticipation.

“What do you have in mind?” Hermione easily slid her hand into his and intertwined their fingers.

“Not sure yet, let’s go find out.”

They descended upon Diagon Alley with a wicked sense of joy and a lightness of heart neither could recall feeling since early childhood. Threads of contentment and comfort wove between them, palpable in the bright night air.

Though blind to it themselves, those who took in the budding couple that evening would be able to observe the way a shimmering glow encased them. An elderly couple would observe them as they rushed into a shop buzzing with private laughter. The kind of private that wasn’t to keep others out, but because they were within a world of their own making.

⭑⭑⭑

“Hermione, I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Ginny dipped her head and looked at her with big doe eyes before stooping over and putting her hand on her hip dramatically, “the baby is insisting upon Fortescue’s Ice Cream, and if it doesn’t get it, I fear my body may succumb.”

Before, Hermione would’ve playfully punched Ginny in the shoulder and rolled her eyes, but ever since she got pregnant, Hermione found it near-painful to deny things from her.

“I would never withhold something from my darling little niece or nephew,” Hermione’s voice rose an octave as she grinned and fussed at Ginny’s still flat stomach. Ginny stormed through the doors and forged ahead, ordering a black raspberry chunk ice cream. Hermione barely had her order of dulce de leche out of her mouth before a blunt obsidian bob caught her eye shimmering in the sun.

“Pansy?” Hermione called out, eyes widening as she considered the possibility she was shouting at a stranger. The bob swished, causing a miniature galaxy to dance on her tresses, and Hermione saw a signature plum colored smirk turn toward her.

“Lioness? How good to see you’ve ventured beyond the pride.” Hermione may have taken umbrage with the way emerald eyes appraised her from head to toe, but a demure grin brightened Pansy’s face as she was tugged into a hug. Pansy and Ginny pretended to have a heated stare-off before finally chuckling and planting kisses on each other’s cheeks.

“Parks, it’s been much too long. Harry is raring to defend his title. Tell Blaise to schedule the next scrimmage,” Ginny angled an elbow playfully into Pansy’s ribs. Pansy adeptly slid back, it was notoriously hard to catch the woman off guard. It was as though behaving in an undignified way was impossible for her.

“Tell him yourself,” Pansy gestured her chin behind her and Hermione glanced around Ginny to see Blaise dodging the midday crowd and waving as he caught up to them.

“Bloody shoppers. This is why I prefer to order things via owl.” Blaise whined, a non-threatening growl escaping his throat. Pansy rolled her eyes and examined her nails. He leaned in and hugged Hermione and Ginny warmly. Blaise and Pansy were turned as well during Greyback’s rampage. They had the poor fortune of inhabiting the Malfoy manor right before the final battle.

“Potter wants another showdown,” she informed him, before looping her arm through his own. This information did nothing to improve her paramour’s mood.

“Pompous Chosen One. He’s on. This time I’ll convince Draco to come. Then you lions are nothing but an oversized meal.” His words were confident but his expensive black shoes continued to tap the pavement in annoyance.

Hermione enjoyed this exchange greatly. None of them were plagued by house prejudices besides some light-hearted joking. It bothered her, in hindsight, how Hogwarts employed the house system. Though more innocuous than blood purity prejudice, it sought to further denote and divide students based on perceived “differences”.

“Why don’t the two of you join us?” Hermione suggested to the couple, Ginny nodded enthusiastically around a mouthful of ice cream. Blaise didn’t bother responding, only headed straight to the counter to order his own. He was a simple man driven by the pleasures in life, Hermione had learned over their budding friendship. Always the first to gather a drink, a sweet, or indulge in his woman.

“We just ate, but you know Blaise,” Pansy faux-complained as she glanced toward the cashier with a contented sigh. She pulled up a seat beside Ginny. “I heard a rumor that Ms. Hermione and our Theodore had a magical date.” Pansy arched a manicured brow and fixed her determined gaze on Hermione who squirmed.

Ginny grinned conspiratorially, “Oh, she was like a school girl in the days after. ‘Ginny he was so handsome,’ ‘He made the whole picnic himself,’ ‘Even the faeries seemed to agree’.”

Hermione scoffed at Ginny, feeling the warm rush of blood to her cheeks, but did nothing to deny the claims. Pansy laughed with her, but gently placed a hand over Hermione’s own, “Don’t worry. He was quite the same. Though, I’ve been sworn to secrecy. Draco seemed positively strained when he congratulated Theo.”

Hermione straightened and Pansy’s eyes narrowed. Ginny was blissfully unaware, thank Merlin, but Blaise’s lips quirked in a knowing smile as he settled in beside them.

“I’m not sure why he would have been bothered,” Hermione muttered, prodding her ice cream with her spoon. Blaise’s answering scoff earned him a hard stare from Pansy, who softened as her eyes flicked back to Hermione.

“Not sure bothered is quite the word I’d use.” Pansy emphasized the word rather breathily. Hermione suddenly felt positively scorching. Surely her face would sustain second degree burns the way they had her blushing.

Pansy and Blaise had a tendency for poking and prodding at sensitive subjects, though they knew when to pull back. Feeling her uncertainty, they dove into a conversation with Ginny about all the baby preparations since she’d made the announcement while Hermione withdrew into her mind.

Theo admitted he had been courting Hermione for months, using dated pureblood traditions that flew directly over Hermione’s head. They had agreed they both wanted more than dates, a relationship, but she was worried she was probably already in love. She was well and truly fucked.

“I’ll be right back,” Hermione excused herself. She sought her way to the bathroom and promptly shut herself in. After using the bathroom and taking some deep stabilizing breaths, she felt ready to return to the table. Hopefully nonchalant enough to convince her companions the comments about her partner and his best friend didn’t cause a full meltdown in her mind.

It could never be that easy though, as when she stepped out, she walked directly into Cormac McLaggen who was leaning just beyond the door frame.

“Hermione Granger,” he steadied her and then ran a hand up her arm in a move much more familiar than they were. His grin was predatory as he leaned down to whisper in her ear, “How good to see you.”

“Step back McLaggen. She’s not interested,” Pansy’s signature hiss was accentuated by a low growl rattling deep in her chest. Cormac had the good sense to jump a few steps back from Hermione. Not far enough, the moon wouldn’t be far enough.

“I was only steadying her Parkinson. No need to white knight,” his response was sour as Pansy shifted around him until she was between the werewolf and Hermione.

Straightening her back Pansy said, “Scamper along, now. Play time is over.” It was not a request from the woman, but a command.

Turning on his heel, he stormed by them. Once Cormac was past the threshold of Fortescue’s, Pansy turned to Hermione, all her malice replaced with her pleasant smile. “Ginny was talking about the auror time off bill, apparently it passed. I thought you may want to hear the details?”

Hermione was grateful for Pansy’s graceful tact in this moment. Pansy slid her arm through Hermione’s and guided her back through the shop to their little table nestled in the corner. She couldn’t help the nagging feeling that Pansy’s intervention wasn’t purely accidental. It reminded her of the day in her office when Draco and Theo were nearly feral at the smell of her mild fear.

“Thank you,” Hermione said discreetly. She saw Pansy return a small nod.

⭑⭑⭑

Draco leaned back against the chaise that Theo lounged sideways on. Draco allowed his vision to blur along the artful beams in the oak ceiling.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Theo groaned. Draco cocked his head back to see his beta more clearly. He didn’t bother asking what he meant, only lifted one brow questioningly.

“I can’t even think straight! My instincts are constantly focused on her. Every thought is consumed by her. Every time I hold back on marking her, it’s physically painful.” Theo’s voice was softer than usual. Draco huffed a sigh as he rose, and paced to the bar for another firewhisky. He walked to the matching chair in the study, sinking into it and wrangling his many conflicting thoughts.

He knew what Theo meant better than his friend believed. Ever since the change, any time he was in the vicinity of Hermione Granger, it was as though she flooded his every sense. He’d become intoxicated at a whiff of her perfume, causing him to freeze in his tracks just to consume every trace of her greedily. She could be in the crowded ministry atrium, but Draco’s ears would catch any shuffle of her feet, or the subtle rustling as she rooted for paperwork in her beaded purse. A muted grin spread his lips at the thought of her illegal bag with its extension charm, his clever little witch. She never did much care for rules that didn’t suit her.

“Remind your wolf, she’s yours. I can’t imagine the swot would take well to being marked without an exhaustive analysis of the pros and cons of such an action.” Draco’s words were hardly past his lips before a deafening growl ripped up through Theo’s throat. Draco turned a bored look on him until Theo’s upper lip stopped curling over bared teeth.

“I would never force her into a bond,” Theo passionately asserted. There was no room to argue his resolute tone, as his hands gripped the chaise so tightly his knuckles strained white over bone. His eyes were a stormy rainforest. Draco’s alpha was deeply satisfied with his beta’s response to his provocative words.

“I know. Besides, I’d have to kill you if you had,” Draco casually shrugged, but the words held a dark edge he instantly regretted. He needed to get a handle on this possessive urge that followed any mention of Granger. Theo didn’t deserve to be postured at. He respected and supported Draco, not only as an alpha, but as his closest friend.

“You’d better,” Theo whispered as a shadow of horror drew over his face. Theo was hyper-sensitive to Hermione. The mere thought of anyone, even himself, taking away her autonomy and acting without consent was enough to send him into a full emotional tailspin.

He barely registered Draco’s concerned expression across from him. He was too wrapped up in imagined horrific scenes of Granger’s warm olive skin with blood mixing among her light smattering of freckles. A look of horror widening her mahogany eyes as tears gathered and fell. Merlin, fuck.

Theo shuddered and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs and dropping his head into his hands.

A sudden whine strangled its way out of Draco’s throat that shook Theo out of his macabre daydream, whipping his head to glance at Draco.. They stared at each other for a moment in surprise before Draco cleared his throat and apprised Theo, eyes searching.

“I could sense your distress… my alpha, he’s very protective of his beta,” Draco softly explained.

The excuse was thin and they both knew it. They could never quite could define their relationship ever since they’d been changed. The wolves within brought heightened emotions, but also perplexing behaviors out of them. Each of them had despised any woman the other had taken out on dates, or to their beds.

There was a tension now whenever they spoke about romantic partners that caused the other to become agitated. They’d nearly fought over it enough times already. Their chests heaving with rumbling breaths and fists balled at their sides. Seething with anger for reasons they couldn’t acknowledge. They never lashed out physically, neither had that urge. It was something else. Something more. Though, neither was willing to evaluate this yet.

Strangely, though, with Hermione Granger, that was not the issue that arose. Each was desperate for her, but it didn’t divide them.

No, it was common ground. Ground they both wanted to explore. Expand.

A shared devotion, their goddess to protect and exalt. Though Draco felt a tinge of jealousy that Theo actually got to worship her. It wasn’t truly envy, just the wish that he too could hold and protect her. Seek her out when the world was too dark and bask in her glowing light.

⭑⭑⭑

Hermione helped Harry clean up the plates from dinner in comfortable silence, only the clinking of the plates and Ginny’s occasional overfull groan from the couch cutting through. Hermione had been in her head since Fortescue’s Ice Cream. The way Hermione retreated into her mind didn’t escape Ginny’s notice.

Her comfort zone was deep within her own psyche, dissecting and unfurling her thoughts and emotions until she could intellectualize every moment of feeling. Break things down into baser parts and analyze them at all angles. Run each moment repeatedly through her mind’s eye until she was sure she interpreted everything thoroughly.

It wasn’t productive to do such a thing, she knew this deep down. But the comfort of receding into her intelligence was familiar and safe. It protected her from the reminder that control is just an illusion.

Post-war, Hermione realized she may have a bit of a control problem. It wasn’t like it cropped up out of nowhere, however. A decade of life-threatening events and battles during her formative teenage years left damage that couldn’t be healed with a simple charm and some dittany. Panic attacks gripped her at night, while nightmares kept her from resting peacefully, and eventually she began seeing a mind healer.

The road to recovery was long, and Hermione was only just beginning. A necessary journey.

Theo threw a wrench in everything. She was working on herself, and she was improving, day after grueling day. And so, she began living her life again, instead of walking through memories and nightmares in a barely conscious haze. And of course, this handsome, curly haired, gentle, newly-turned werewolf just had to treat her like a goddess of old. He made her feel more than just present, he made her feel alive!

But that brought its own cauldron of issues.

Her neatly tucked away and examined feelings were suddenly vibrant and teeming. Hermione wasn’t sure she knew how to do this part. Without a potentially world-changing war and villains bent on her extermination, how did one date without a sense of impending doom?

“I can hear the cogs grinding even under your mass of wild hair,” Harry complained jokingly. His eyes, however, betrayed his concern. He pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and ignored the rest of the cleanup. Hermione sighed and joined him.

“I’m… confused,” she admitted. Harry nodded solemnly, attention fully on her. He may not understand the way her complex brain worked, but out of everyone on this planet, Harry Potter knew Hermione Granger best, and she him.

“Are you confused? Or afraid? I’ve never known you not to understand what is going on in your own mind.” His statement was matter of fact, but not unkind. Hermione scrubbed a hand over her face and felt her shoulders droop. He was right, she was afraid. If she was honest with herself, she felt feelings were deeper than she had ever had for Theo, and some nagging feeling in her gut told her that this was a tragedy. It was only a matter of time until it was all brutally taken from her.

“Harry, I think I’m falling in love,” Hermione’s admission was less lovestruck and more in line with someone in a zombie apocalypse, who has to admit they were bit in their last scuffle with the undead.

Harry cocked his head in confusion as his brows knit together, “This is a bad thing?”

A deranged giggle bubbled out of Hermione’s chest, “I guess not, but I think… I’m in love with Theo and I’m so frustrated, Harry. After everything we’ve been through, all this normalcy is terrifying! How am I supposed to tell him ‘oh I’m falling for you, but it’s sending me into a tailspin because I don’t know how to just be happy?’” The words tumbled out of her like lightning seeking the ground.

“Mione,” Ginny called softly from the doorway. Hermione whipped her head around as she realized that not only had she spilled her teeming thoughts, but Ginny had heard as well. “You’re allowed to be happy, and to feel at peace. It’s going to be extremely uncomfortable sometimes because you’ll have to be open and vulnerable, but no one is braver than you.” Ginny slowly came up to her and placed a firm hand on her shoulder.

“We’re always here for you,” Ginny sighed before kissing the top of her head and then caressing her cheek. She moved to her husband who stood, kissing her sweetly, “I for one, am going to take a bath and then knock out, this mini Potter is sucking all my energy dry.” She caressed her stomach lovingly and made her exit with a wave over her shoulder.

Hermione turned back to Harry who was gazing longingly at the space his wife had just left, “What if it all just goes wrong?”

“I don’t think love can be wrong,” he answered honestly, “besides, if anyone deserves an excess of affection, I can’t imagine anyone more deserving than you.” He reached over to grasp her hand.

Harry had a proclivity for making profoundly meaningful statements seem clear as day and matter-of-fact. It was one of the things that made them so compatible. He had the ability to extinguish her overthinking, while she made sure his wild schemes didn’t get them killed.

She launched herself at him and was caught with a chuckle as she hugged him tightly.

“Besides, you always have me,” Harry muttered into her wild curls.

________________________

hope y'all are enjoying, things are heating up heheh

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