Savage Seduction

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Savage Seduction

15



We used to stick together,

You & me stay that way forever.

But now to my surprise:

You’ve become what we’ve despised.

What’s that their telling me?

Sleeping with the enemy!

Going down on dirty sheets;

Didn’t nobody ever tell you how to be discreet?



****


“What?” she said quietly.

“I SAID GET OUT,” Fenrir roared, swivelling around to face her. His voice was so loud and threatening, that Hermione cowered as the werewolf clutched his fists by his side and stood menacingly over her.


What on earth did he mean? Just get out? Leave? But why? She looked up at him naively and his haunting cobalt eyes pierced hers with such ferocity that she had to look down at her knees again. The witch trembled slightly, she didn’t think she had ever seen him so forbidding.


“What,” she mumbled again, trance-like. He growled dangerously and she cried out as he threw a fist above her head. She heard the wall crunch behind her as it was battered by his fist; she rolled to one side scrabbling to her knees, tears welling in her eyes. Why did he want her to leave? All she could hear was his odious growling, she turned around again and when their eyes met he screamed at her;


“GET OUT!”

The witch burst into a sob and tried to stand to run out the bedroom door; as she flung it open the werewolf thundered behind her. She stopped on the landing outside; something was stopping her from leaving. Why did she feel so compelled to stay? Surely her instinct should be kicking in; this was a chance to escape. But escape from what? She hadn’t felt like a prisoner for a long time now.


“ARHHH GET OUT,” he roared following her out the door, she squealed as he swung a punch at her but she ducked and he kicked the banisters in anger. They splintered under his strength and fell clumsily to the floor below. The witch screamed and held on to the others that were left.


“Leave!” he rasped – his voice hoarse, and she got up, stumbling like a lost child as he threw a chair over the banisters and it clattered into a heap below. His boot lifted, and pressed against her back – she was frozen like a statue- he pushed her forward so that she would descend the stairs. Through sobs the witch stumbled down them, blinded by her own tears, she heard the werewolf thrash around behind her; a picture flew past her head and landed with a smash in the hallway below. It seemed as if he was damaging everything but her.


Another splintering sound told her he had kicked in the rest of the wooden railings, and she slipped on the last step and fell on her hands and knees. A sharp pain shot up her left palm as she felt the shards of the picture frame below. Plucking it out she had barely time to duck before a large hazy figure had thrashed its way down the stairs, tearing at the heavy curtains that hung to her left.


Everything was so fuzzy from her tears that she couldn’t even see him properly, the curtains landed in front of her and his roar filled the whole room, and she sobbed hysterically before he came into focus properly. He was standing again with his head in his hands, he stood up right suddenly and then bent right forward growling in agony as he tried to transform.


“No,” she whispered pathetically before shakily getting to her feet. “Fenrir stop it!” she stepped backwards down the hall trailing a hand down the wall, as she watched the werewolf lash around violently. She didn’t want to have to leave, and she couldn’t understand why. But another roar echoed through the hall and she gave one last sob before turning, stumbling, and then finally running to the kitchen and flinging open the back door.


****

Outside was dark, night had befallen them whilst they had argued, an owl hooted before swooping in low across the hedges and then out of sight. The witch threw open the backdoor and hurtled through, her sobs rustled the pigeons resting in a nearby tree.


She ran blindly, her arms out in front of her as she tried to see where she was going. But everything was hazy, not just physically. She failed to grasp what had just happened, all she knew was that she was running and she couldn’t stop, not for anything – because it hurt so badly.


Soon the house that was her prison was just a distant flickering light, she had run through the nearby fields and meadows, and the forest loomed in the distance. Even though she was still disorientated she knew she would avoid it, veering to the right she strayed into another field, the hill ahead looked steep and her pace had already slackened, as she ran at a haphazard amble.


She let out a sob, rubbing an arm over her face, she clutched onto the ground as she tried to run up the hill and at the top she collapsed; exhausted. She looked back in the distance, to see the flickering lights of civilization and the hair on her neck pricked up as a howl cut into the silence of the night. Her eyes widened with fear, she knew only too well that Fenrir was not to be crossed with while transformed.


Picking herself up again she looked at her injured hand, but took off after another howl echoed in the distance. Her legs ached but she had to keep going, who knows where she was going, she didn’t even know where she was. Her chest hurt from the cold wind as she ran, and something bigger ached inside her too. She felt so despaired, the wind had dried the tears to her face, she gulped back another sob, and what was she even thinking about? She couldn’t think straight at all. The werewolf blinded her vision, but only partly, she had been thinking mostly about what he had done, why did he let her go? She felt so despondent, everything was hazy – her thoughts were broken up.


After what seemed like forever the witch collapsed on the ground, she couldn’t go on. Her legs were tired, and she trembled from exhaustion. She stifled more sobs, what was she going to do? If she stayed out in the cold she would surely die. Perhaps Fenrir would find her and bring her back, she smiled weakly but she had the strangest feeling that he was not looking for her at all. He had seemed so seriously earlier, she gave another pitiful sob.


Perhaps she could apparate, although she didn’t have a wand. Many wizards could not apparate without their wands, and even if they tried without, there was always the danger of splinching. But it was something she was willing to risk now, the bitter cold had already made her limbs numb, and she could feel herself getting drowsy.


A few minutes rolled by, silence had taken over the lonely hilltop. The witch, sprawled out on the grass, shivered as the cold wind whipped against her. She couldn’t stay here; already she was beginning to lose her sense of reality. A frown etched on her face suddenly, then there was a pop and she was gone.

****



The oat fields shuddered with the wind, the nearly full moon glittered high above in the sky. Stars peppered the inky blackness, and the witch found herself on the damp marshy ground of some bog. Looking up she saw the stalks around her, images flashed back to yesterday, or perhaps now, the day before yesterday.


She pulled herself up, and dusted off, her bones ached, but she knew where she was. Home. She meandered through the bog, feeling as if she had some notion of where she was. After several minutes she found smoke rising in the distance from a chimney and walked towards it. The further she walked the more appraising the scenery became, until she was very sure she knew where she was. Soon after the little cottage came into view, her cottage. A smile picked up on her face, for a moment everything seemed to melt away, all her troubles, fears and the past month has been obliterated. She would be home, and everything would be normal and she would see Ron again.


She tried to imagine his face, with his cheeky grin and scruffy hair. She remembered his smell, and the way she liked to bury her head in the crook of his neck. Lights came into view, warm yellow and orange burned out of the tiny windows of the cottage, he must be home. Excitement rose in her, what would he say when she showed up?


Soon she left the fields behind, her yard was small and dusty and her car sat a little dirty at one end of the drive. Crossing over she moved to the front door and hesitated before entering. She took a deep breath and turned the handle ever so slowly, it was open.


Inside was quiet, and the hall was dark, but a candle was lit in the kitchen, and light poured out from the glass door down the hall; from the living room. Nervously, she crept forward until she was nearly outside the living room door; suddenly she froze – a knot tightening in her chest.


She could see Ron – for a moment her heart was all a flutter. The cheerful smile of his always warmed her, she had forgotten how handsome he had been and just for that second she felt as if she were in love with him all over again. But there was somebody else sitting curled up beside him. They were entwined, in fact spread over the sofa; she couldn’t see who was underneath him. Hermione gasped as she watched them kiss, why would he do this to her? Everything inside began to shatter, like prophecies falling over and over. Rooted to the spot Hermione felt her heart shatter as she watched on, suddenly the girl moved and Hermione let out a squeak on catching her face.


The witch felt her eyes prickle, she turned quickly and accidentally knocked over a vase which stood on a stand beside her, and Ron looked up and caught sight of her. Hermione tore into the kitchen; the light from the candle illuminated the hearth and the table, enabling her to see. She grabbed the pot of Floo powder from the hearth and tossed the whole thing into the fire in a fit of sobs. The flames crackled green and she threw herself forward and with a rush of roaring flame she was gone, the redhead stood at the doorway as the fire returned to its normal appearance.

****



A kettle hissed merrily on the shiny stove, and pots scrubbed themselves magically in the white stone-wash sink. The little kitchen was dainty, and decorated in a lovely cream colour. The worktops were spotless, and everything was in place. It seemed like such a quaint little room, just big enough for a family of four.


An old ornate fireplace crackled daintily at one end, the tiles surrounding it depicted ivy and flowers. Pictures sat on the mantle, along with a shiny brass pot and a rather aged plant. Dimly, voices could be heard outside the kitchen, although they were only inaudible murmurs.


Suddenly there was a bang and the fire flickered a lucid, sickly green. A figure slid out on her knees onto the tiled kitchen floor, soot and ash flying everywhere. The air was suddenly filled with her wailing sobs, as she clutched her face in her hands.


A door flung open and in ran a pretty looking witch with fiery red hair. “Merlin’s beard,” she exclaimed throwing a hand to her mouth. Without another moment she raced to one side of the table and crouched at the shaking heap on the floor.


“Hermione,” the witch shook the crying girl by the shoulders and then quickly pulled her in for a hug as the witch buried herself in the other. Another figure appeared at the door.


“What’s go-” he paused, before running to join them. “Hermione,” Harry spoke. At the same time the kettle began to whistle furiously and Ginny, the red haired witch, motioned for Harry to see to it. She pulled away from Hermione, who looked worse than she had ever seen her. Her face was wet from tears, and red all over. Her hair was flyaway, and it had bits of leaves entwined in it. Her hand she noticed had been cut open crudely and she looked very dirty.


“Oh god Hermione what happened to you?” she whispered clutching onto the sobbing witch.

“R-R-Ron,” she mumbled through the fits of sobs that were now so uncontrollable that her whole body was heaving in spasms. Ginny called to Harry who was set about making tea for the three of them.

“Harry you must get Ron and tell him we found her.”

“NO!” blurted Hermione, she was shaking but her sobbing had stopped. Her caramel eyes were wide, and she took Ginny’s hands in hers. “Not Ron,” she mumbled and Ginny frowned at her.

“Why not Ron, he will want to see you. He hasn’t stopped worrying -” Ginny stated.

“No, no he...” And she collapsed into another fit of sobs. “Lavender,” she mumbled when she had surfaced, Ginny looked from Hermione to Harry. “He was...with Lavender.”

Harry went stony-faced, his fists clenched. How could Ron even think of doing such a thing, all of them had been worried sick about Hermione since she had disappeared. Ron had helped them set up search parties and everything, but for some reason Harry didn’t doubt what Hermione had said, this had been niggling in his mind for awhile.


He threw down the spoon he had been holding to stir tea with and marched towards them. Ginny let go of Hermione who slumped down onto the floor, as she tried to reach out for her husband.

“Harry no!” She pleaded.

“He’s got to be sorted out,” said Harry sternly. Ginny sighed; she knew how persistent Harry was, it was probably best just to let him go.

“Please, just don’t let him back here!” He nodded and then disappeared with a loud crack.

Ginny turned towards Hermione and helped her into a seat; she stirred the tea and set it down in front of her best friend. She looked awful, and had no doubt she was suffering. Perhaps it was better to get the boys out of the way for awhile.


“Hermione, I’m so glad you’re back safe, we were all so worried about you. Do you want to tell me what happened?” The brown haired witch looked up; her eyes had become violently swollen from crying. She didn’t nod or say anything, but only gave the redhead a piercing glance but Ginny knew what she meant anyway.


“I tried to tell the ministry!” she punched her palm with her fist. “They thought I was crazy, completely absurd! But I knew it was him I knew it. They sent out search parties for you, but they wouldn’t listen about Greyback, until I managed to convince them, Harry had to do some persuading though. Good thing he has connections at the ministry! Then they started looking for you, and him. Where you in Spain?” she inquired oddly. Hermione shook her head.


“Oh, you see, they had a pretty good lead that he was in Spain right now.” Hermione snorted – a likely Ministry story. “Well anyway, are you ok?” Ginny patted her friends hand comfortingly. “You don’t have to tell me right now, ok? But I’d like to help you feel better. But I think you should get some rest for now. Don’t worry about Ron; I’m sure he had a good reason.”

****



Hermione slept through the next day, and the day after that she awoke feeling exhausted still. Ginny had left her breakfast on the bed side table, and a cup of cold tea sat untouched by the lamp. Their spare room was little more than a cupboard, but somehow the quaint little wooden bed with its patchwork quilt (no doubt made by Mrs Weasley) and colourful curtains became a second home to Hermione over the coming week.


Ginny had sat by Hermione most of the first day, and brought her tea and toast at intervals, although it remained untouched. Ron had been devastated at the sight of Hermione, her face had haunted him. Immediately he had told Lavender it had all been a mistake, Harry had not been impressed.


He was told not to visit, not until Hermione said it was ok, and he begged Harry to see her several times. Seeing Hermione again, and so miserable had reminded him how much he really loved her, and how much more he needed to do to make their relationship work. Nothing would stop him now, he was sure of it, if only she would let him tell her how he felt.


The witch rolled over, both hands fitted snugly under her face as she lay on the pillow. The last few hours were the first she had been awake since she first came to Ginny’s house. She spent them tossing and turning in her bed, every time Ginny had come in she had settled and pretended to be asleep. So many thoughts ran through her head, talking to people was not one of them.


But then Ginny would come in and sit on the rocking chair at the end of the bed, and rock quietly for an hour or two. It annoyed Hermione, but she knew why she did it; because she cared. And Ginny knew that Hermione needed to tell someone and who better but her best friend.


“Hermione?” Ginny called from behind the door waking Hermione from a haunting reverie, it opened a crack and the lively green eyes of the redhead peered in. But Hermione was too late, the witch had already seen her awake, and she slipped in the door carrying two mugs of tea.


“I’m glad you’re awake,” she said softly, placing one mug on the table and taking up her seat in the rocking chair. Hermione propped herself up, but averted her friends gaze. They said nothing, and sat for ten minutes before Hermione let out a stifled sigh.


Ginny had been staring at the carpet, transfixed, as she had been under the impression today was not the day she would hear what happened either. When she looked up she saw the witch’s face wet with tears, but she said nothing as the witch was trying to wipe them away without her noticing. When all had settled Hermione had taken a shaky sip of her tea and her stomach growled from hunger.


“Where is Ron?” Hermione mumbled. She had been having awful dreams about him lately; she was completely torn over him. Her kidnapping had been completely overlooked after the incident at the cottage. It was almost as if she yearned for Ron now, she wanted everything to be how it was – even if she had been so dissatisfied back then at Christmas.


“He is at home, he would like to see you,” Ginny stated. The brunette shook her head softly, and her wavy hair hung limply over her face. She could not make up whether she could forgive him or not. She needed more time to mend her broken heart.


“No, not now. I don’t want to see him.” Ginny merely gave her friend a weak smile as she saw the tears well up in her eyes once more. She set down her mug beside the chair and approached the bed.


“Please tell me what happened,” said Ginny, clutching Hermione’s hands. “The ministry are still searching for you, we want to tell them we’ve found you, but they will want to know why.”

****



A/N: Well guys here’s another chapter. I hope you are all like OMGWTFNESS. I have been waiting on this chapter since chapter one URGH!!! Well anyways I hope the next few chapters won’t be boring for you – hang in there Fenrir isn’t completely out of the picture ;) If you know me, you know I have some awesome things planned for sexy beast


*Lyrics- Darren Hayes, Heart Attack