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Just an eensy little peek of what these two have been up to! It was this fic!  

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i.

“This -- what is this?” 

Harry looks at her worriedly, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth as he shifts the brown hide of what appeared to be an animal, from side to side in his hand. He was unbelievably nervous -- she’d reckon she’d have been able to smell it on him if, that is, if she could smell anything at all. For the past few days Y/N had been tormented with an intermittent fever and clogged sinuses to boot, which she would have figured was just the run of the mill stress induced cold that she gets every year around finals time. However, upon further inspection from Harry and Nathan, it was apparent she had garnered a demon friend who was hell bent on bonding to a human. From what she understood, her body rejected it’s advances, and as human body’s tend to do with foreign invaders, it reacted by making her ill. 

How does one rid themselves a cold provoked by that of a demon? 

Simple! Just, “--sleep with this and you’ll feel better.” 

This was the large, chestnut colored fur pelt of a slain Onikuma otherwise known as the demon bear. Typically unremarkable, even tempered creatures, this one in particular had wandered into a cave with evil spiritual energy and became possessed. It went from eating horses, to people, lots and lots of people -- until Harry shot an arrow and pierced it in his heart.

Why would they make it a pelt? Wouldn’t that carry any sort of negative energy with it as well? Y/N thought so at least, until Harry explained to her that it was a necessary evil. They purified the body, took the fur and wove it into an intricate blanket, so it technically wasn’t a pelt because there was no skin but Y/N referred to it as such because she had no idea what else she could call it. A purified fur could ward away illnesses brought on by demons of all shapes and sizes, and in some cases it can even plateau the progression of a possession; stagnate it entirely until they could find the proper tools to treat them, or to barter enough time in which they would be able to cast the thing doing the possessing back to hell. 

It’s a lot to take a handle on -- Y/N can still barely make sense of any of it really, especially when she felt like she’d been run over by a truck. Whatever had ailed her had surely wanted her to suffer, because she’d been absolutely miserable the past few days. Her nose was full of snot, she couldn’t sleep because she couldn’t breathe, her head ached severely, her body felt like she’d been tied to the back of a truck on a gravel road. She was hot, then she was freezing, she coughed more than she breathed, and no bit of over the counter medicine was doing anything to nip it as they usually do. Human remedies don’t work for demon illnesses, Niall had been sure to tell her, before he helped her down the red liquid that put her to sleep (because they wanted to treat her inside their village, and it also gave them an excuse to knock her out for a little while so she could rest). 

Y/N woke up in Harry’s cabin, tucked in his bed, Harry at the door holding a mass of fur in his hand and Y/N had completely forgotten about their explanation. Which brought them to their current situation. 

“Sweetheart, it’s the blanket,” Harry stepped closer to her, and she realizes then that he’s not alone -- Niall and Nathan both aid him in carrying it into the room, as she tried to conceptualize how large the thing they killed must have been for three men to be necessary in order to hold it. Harry had taken to calling it a blanket to normalize it for her, but she knew what it was, even in her cold murkied mind and she knew that she absolutely, positively, did not want to cuddle up into it, “It’ll take the edge off of most your symptoms, and I’ll make you the special soup that should fix you right up in just a day or two.” 

Her brows furrowed deeply, “I don’t want you to make me the soup, I want you to cuddle with me,” she whined as she watched them settle the fur onto the ground -- not only was it large in width and length, it was incredibly thick, enough so that it might as well be a mattress. Fuck sake, in death the thing was intimidating, she couldn’t imagine what it must have been like alive, “Don’ want to sleep with it either, it feels like. . .ethically incorrect.” 

Nathan puffs a laugh, “Babe, this thing killed about ten people and was a demon -- we had to beg the elders to let us utilize it for you, it would be unethical for you to not sleep on it.” 

“Think of it this way,” Niall walked toward the bed, sitting carefully on the bed across from her form slouched amongst the pillows, “it only has the likeliness of a bear but it is not a bear, please understand this, we have not killed an animal. On this earth, everything happens for a reason. Every event has a purpose. This demon was placed here, possessed, killed and purified all for this very moment.” His hand rests gently on her leg, “I will prepare the soup for you, Harry will lay with you among the fur, you will feel better shortly. Do so now, please.” 

It was hard to disagree with Niall, or question anything he told her when he is so sure and firm in his words. She thinks he could convince her to murder someone but as long as he did it in a statement format, she wouldn’t think twice before committing to it for him. It’s why she presses herself up on aching limbs, Harry immediately at her side, allowing her to lean the majority of her body weight against him. There were only a few steps from his bed to the fur, but it felt as if she had miles between them -- she’s almost certain her legs would have given out on her if not for the support Harry was giving her. 

When her toes touched the edge of it, she paused, looking up to him for a moment -- she can’t say she wasn’t scared. A lot of this new life together was Harry teaching her things that he’d grown up with and her trying to wrap her head around them, no matter how outlandish it might be. Like when she has to take sanctifying baths in a large tub made up of wooden planks that somehow hadn’t rotted with age, or help Harry complete a ritual that has to be performed under the watchful eyes of the other villagers (because she was his person, and that required certain responsibilities that she otherwise wouldn’t have -- it was never sacrificial, which was comforting), or even accidentally be tricked by a man in the villager who had appeared nice enough, but really just wanted to use her as bait to lure a demon out of it’s dwelling (when Harry had found out, his response toward her was collected and calm, however -- according to Nathan -- he brought something short of the hellion wrath down at a weekly meeting they do). 

Each thing she regarded hesitantly, but willingly. Y/N had told him from the start that she cared for him, all of his everything including, both good and bad, happy and sad, human and otherworldly. She accepted him how he had feared she wouldn’t and though it takes some gentle reminders when he gets nervous while speaking about this side of him, he is more open than he’s ever been able to be. Never had she felt that Harry was holding back with her, but it’d been a noticeable relief for him when it was all said and done. He was calmer now, less skittish, and far more relaxed than she thinks she’s ever seen him. It comforts her knowing that she could be a part of that, and a part of this world that he’d allowed her into. She feels special too, even if there wasn’t a whole lot to feel special about -- Harry always had a knack for making her feel like the center of the universe. 

So when he smiles down at her, murmuring a careful, “It’s okay, Baby,” she nods her head and lowers down to the pelt on the ground. Her knees touch it first, and she gasps as the rest of her is lowered down by Harry, before she’s got her hands buried in the fur. It felt like what she might imagine a cloud to be; soft and doughy enough that she feels she’s sinking into it -- the fur was all encompassing, sucking her against it.

“This is -- whoa,” her voice is still croaky, scratchy and dry from the excessive mouth breathing she had to maintain, “How’s it this soft?” 

Harry plops down beside her, pillows in hand that he begins to rearrange in a propped position against the wall for when he sat up against it, “It's so purified it might as well be made from the gods.” He tells her before he leans against the wall -- Nathan and Niall had retreated by then, so she doesn’t feel eyes peering at her as she moves her weary limbs to snuggle against his side. The best part about being sick because of a demon and not bacteria or a virus was that she didn’t have to worry about spreading it, which meant she could koala herself to his side with no negative repercussions apart from appearing a little clingy. She never worried about that though, because if anything Harry was just as if not more so clingy than her, which is only proven by the fact that he pouts when she cuddles her face into the fur rather than into his chest, “You better not like cozying up with this more than me.” 

“Mm, don’t you know I love the fur of human eating demons? You’ve got some stark competition.” 

He reaches down, swats at her bum and she squeals despite how it dries her throat, “Hush with that, y’know m’the jealous type.” 

“Hand me my water won’t you?” She holds her hand out for it, but Harry is insistent that he should hold the glass for her, positioning the straw before her mouth as she pursed her lips around it. Y/N sucks it down greedily, ignoring how the cold water feels like dragging ice down her raw esophagus from the sheer need to replenish herself. She was dehydrated -- as if the demon in question had taken a straw to her vessels and slurped every ounce of water that might have been in her cells. 

Harry revels in it though -- the first few days she could barely drink at all -- so he was ecstatic that she was finally able to make an effort to hydrate herself. He pulled the empty glass from her and pecked a kiss on her nose, “Good girl. How d’ya feel?” 

She nods. . .she couldn’t deny that she felt a little better. Her nose had begun clearing up considerably and for the first time in about five days Y/N was able to inhale through her nares. Y/N flops into his body again and presses her flushed cheek to his chest. Y/N pats her hip, “Do you wanna watch something, Sweetheart? Twilight or summat?” 

“Mm,” she hums low, her voice muffled by the soft fabric of his shirt, “How’d y’know that’s my fever movie?”

“Because you’re my best friend, dummy,” he runs his hand up her arm, “This is not my first fever with you.” 

“This is the first boyfriend fever, though -- you s’pposed to like. . .I dunno, boyfriend me up.” 

Harry rolls his eyes,  “Reckon I was already boyfriend-ing you up from like. . .maybe two weeks in, I wasn’t very secretive.” 

And, well, that was true wasn’t it?