Just Around the Riverbend

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meankitty69
margaritama
VoraciousReader
angeles
Heidi191976
Alina
Anathema
And now....ENJOY THE CHAPTER!!!

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Daisy was awakened the next morning by giggling. She had somehow pulled her blanket over her head the night before, and her bottom was in the air. She slumped down on her stomach, and peeked out from under her blanket. There were three centaur females, looking to be barely of mating age, peering in the opening of her tent.

“She sleeps strangely!” one laughed. Daisy’s head emerged from the covers completely, and she looked blearily at the giggling centaur girls. Their giggling increased when they spotted her bed-head, but they dispersed with giggle/squeals when Arbino approached.

“Off, you simpering nags!” he snorted light-heartedly. He poked his head into Daisy’s tent. “Up, Daisy human! The sun has long risen. You humans sleep too long!” he said. Daisy groaned, but managed to get herself off of her hammock without breaking any bones. She stretched out languidly, going up on her tip-toes before scratching her belly with one hand, and trying to smooth her hair with the other.

“Many of the herd is going down to the river to cool off. You may join us if you wish.” Arbino said. “Oh! And before I forget…this was left here during your first stay.” He added, and produced her long bow and quiver. Daisy’s grin was immediate, and she thanked her four-legged friend for keeping it for her.

She walked with Arbino down to the river, smiling as she heard the laughing and splashing of a happy herd. It wasn’t often that humans got to see the more playful side of centaurs. Daisy felt very lucky indeed.

She toed off her moccasins and sat at the edge of the water, only wetting her feet. She enjoyed watching the others, but wasn’t quite sure about joining in with them. They were large and strong….she was small and relatively weak.

She felt a twinge of guilt because she was still out here. She should go back to her cousin. He had been kind enough to take her in, and it was foolish of her to repay that kindness by running away over and over. But she looked down at her arms, and saw the bruises standing out harshly against her skin. She frowned.

She’d let him cool off a bit more before she went home!

~~

Lucius sat in his study, a glass of firewhiskey in his hand. She hadn’t come home last night. He’d stayed up most of the night waiting for her. He had everything planned out. He was going to apologize for treating her roughly, but then he was going to thrash her for running off and making a fool of herself in Diagon Alley.
No….that wouldn’t work….she’d probably run off again.

He threw his empty glass angrily against the wall. At the sound of a startled squeak, he whirled towards the door, a bit disappointed when it was only Hermione.

“I thought-” he started. “Nevermind.”

“You thought she’d come back? No luck…it’s just the lowly Mudblood come to see how her Master is doing.” Hermione said a bit sarcastically. Neither Hermione or Lucius liked the way their respective privates twitched at the last part.

“I’m so flattered you care.” Lucius snapped back.

Hermione turned to leave, but stopped after only a few paces, and turned as if she’d forgotten something. “Oh, Mr. Malfoy….your proctologist owled. He said he’d found your head.” Hermione said smugly. Lucius, his mind slightly fuzzed by the glass of firewhiskey, didn’t immediately get the joke. He stared at her for a moment, before his pale face colored.

“Why you…” he growled, and advanced on her. Hermione backed up, and squeaked when she discovered she had backed into the doorway. Lucius came so close to her she could smell the firewhiskey mixing with his own….personal….scent….good GODS it should be illegal for a man to smell that good….especially one who’d been drinking. He leaned one arm on the wall behind her, locking his icy blue eyes with her warm gold ones.

“Lucius.” He said.

Hermione, pulled out of her own little erotic reverie involving ripping off his clothes and shoving him to the floor, jumped slightly.

“What?” she said, her breathing increasing.

“You live here. You may as well call me Lucius.” He said, his other hand reaching up to stroke her hair.

“You’re….d-drunk.” She whimpered, not in the least bit turned off by this fact. She nearly groaned when he leaned his head down and took a deep breath.

“You smell heavenly.” He whispered hoarsely.

“We shouldn’t b-be doing this…” Hermione whispered softly. Both jumped when the floo roared up, and the two separated like naughty school children caught petting in a closet. Severus Snape stepped through the fireplace, a little hooded bundle in his arms. Severus pulled the hood away from the bundle, revealing the small black-haired boy beneath. Hermione gasped, and Lucius narrowed his eyes.

“Severus Tobias Snape! Have you kidnapped a child?” Lucius asked. Severus growled at Lucius.

“No, you inebriated arse! It’s…er…he’s mine.” Severus said. Hermione snorted.

“Who had a baby with you?” she asked. Snape turned his dark eyes on her, and she immediately felt guilty.

“His mother and I had a drunken one-night fling nearly two tears ago. Right around the time I discovered I would not be placed in Azkaban. I had no idea the boy existed until yesterday evening, when some random wizard showed up to say his mother was dead and either I take him or they’d pack him off to some kiddy-fiddling orphanage. I took him, or course.” He said. But then he looked a bit uncomfortable. “But I have no idea what to do with him….what do babies need?” he asked. Lucius blinked slowly, and then began to chuckle. The chuckle then turned into a full-blown laugh. Hermione looked at him in wonder…the laugh made him look quite human….and quite…..lickable. Oooh gods! She just thought that, didn’t she? Dragon poop!

“I don’t see what’s funny…” Severus sniffed slightly.

“You….You…knocked up….a witch!” he snorted. Severus’ black eyes turned murderous, and he turned back towards the floo.

“Fine! If you’re going to be a bastard about it, then I’ll go elsewhere!” he hissed. Lucius rushed forward, still chuckling.

“Oh gods! I’m sorry, Sev….I really am. You just look hilarious standing there with that boy. It’s as if he’ll burn you any moment.” He said. Severus frowned.

“Yes, well…I came to you for help, Lucius, not ridicule.” Severus said softly.

“All right, all right. Does he have a bed?” Lucius asked.

“He slept with me last night.” Severus said weakly.

“All right. Then you’ll need a toddler’s bed, mattress, sheets, blankets and the like. You’ll need a wardrobe for the lad, and clothes to fill it. A child needs playthings, and preferably ones that are educational as well as fun. Look…I need to stay here in case Daisy comes back….she ran away again…but I’ll send Hermione with you.” He said.

“What?”

Severus and Hermione looked at each other, neither keen on going shopping for baby things- together.

“Unless you want to go by yourself…” Lucius said slyly. Severus’ pale face lightened even more.

“No…I…Miss Granger can come if she wants to.” He said stiffly. Hermione growled softly.

“Who said I want to?”

~~

Phelan looked at the paper for the millionth time in the last two days. Daisy Melfy, cousin of Lucius Malfoy. The little bitch that caused him to take a beating from his father. Well, at least he knew who it was now.

He headed towards the kitchen, ignoring several subordinates along the way. This whole building housed a small pack of Fenrir’s most loyal subordinates. It was a haven for those lycans who had absolutely nowhere else to go. It was usually a pretty social place to be….if you were a werewolf. And tonight was going to be glorious. The full moon would rise in only a bit, and Phelan looked forward to the change.

Phelan wasn’t like the other werewolves. When the transformed, they relied on the instincts of the wolf and only the wolf. When Phelan transformed, he kept his human instincts, but was also able to tap into the instincts of the wolf. And it was a simple reason why. Every single Lycan there, including his father, had been Bitten. Phelan had been Born. He was a different kind of werewolf. A better, faster, stronger kind, but he didn’t let his father know that just yet. It was why keeping his human wits about him was so important. He could hide things the others couldn’t.

His father was in the kitchen, hunched over a copy of the Prophet. It was an odd thing, seeing his father read the paper, but he did it sometimes, and it wasn’t good to question the Alpha. Not yet, anyway.

“Any news worth stealing?” Phelan asked, referring to how the pack got their papers. His father looked up at him, and immediately Phelan wished he hadn’t drawn attention to himself.

“An interesting story on a little vigilante related to that poof Lucius Malfoy. I’m not much interested in the story, though. It’s the picture that intrigues me…” he said, and pushed the paper towards his son. Phelan stepped towards the table, and looked down at the picture as if it were the first time he’d seen it.

“Would you look at that…” he said softly. He heard his father growl angrily.

“You were in the paper.” He snarled.

“They weren’t watching me. Whoever took this picture was more interested in the bitch that chased me.” He said. Fenrir tilted his head slightly, but kept his teeth bared.

“She chased you? Did she catch you?” Phelan was quiet, but the slight flush in his pale skin told his father all he needed to know.

“I turned into a dead end. She pulled her wand on me, the little twit.” He said, growling at the recollection.

“So you gave up the purse. You have a wand too, stupid.” Fenrir snarled. Another way that Phelan was different from some of his pack-mates. His father had insisted he be trained in the magical arts. He’d been learning since he was old enough to wield a wand, and was as adept as a graduated Hogwarts student, even more so in the Dark Arts.

“I didn’t feel like dueling.” Phelan sniffed.

“But you felt like getting your arse beat. Perhaps I’ve held out too much hope for you. Your mother died giving birth to a coward.” He snarled.

“You take that back!” Phelan snapped. Fenrir was on his feet immediately, but this time Phelan didn’t back down. He looked his father in the eye and bared his teeth.

Fenrir lunged with his fingers crooked into claws, and swiped at his son. Phelan jumped back with surprising agility, and then struck with his fist. He clouted his father on the side of the head, but it was only hard enough to make his head turn slightly. But then Phelan shot forward, slightly bent, and tackled his father around the stomach. The force was enough to knock the man backwards, and send him careening into the kitchen door, knocking it open and allowing them both to tumble down the back steps of the old building. Unfortunately, Fenrir landed on top at the bottom of the steps. He grabbed his son by the throat and held him down, pressing into his windpipe.

Phelan struggled uselessly beneath his father’s greater bulk and strength. But his yellow eyes widened when the clouds behind his father’s head parted, letting the light of the full moon shine down on the filthy nook in Knockturn Alley. Phelan’s pupils elongated immediately, and Fenrir pulled back. He whirled around, and the moon caught him in the face.

They both transformed simultaneously, the only sound being that of bone creaking and shifting. When the two transformed wolves stood in front of each other, they both snarled. Then they lunged.

The two fighting werewolves drew the attention of many to their windows. They had fought their way into the open street, and people could look down and see the sight. Most knew the sight of Fenrir Greyback, transformed or not, and it was enough to freeze blood at the sight of him fighting.

The two fought for hours, lunging and clawing until they were exhausted, and both pulled back for a few moments to recover. Neither was unmarked, and there was blood, spittle, and fur everywhere. The two wolves panted and snarled at the same time. Unfortunately for Phelan, Fenrir recovered first, and lunged, taking the smaller wolf to the ground. His father then proceeded to bite him several times. None were fatal, but they sure as hell hurt! Phelan finally turned his head to the side, and whimpered. The fight was over.

Phelan had lost this fight, but he vowed he would not lose the next one. By the time his father backed away, bleeding and weak, the sun was already rising. Phelan put his head against his paws to rest, and heard the creaking sound of a transformation ending. But he had the strangest itching sensation behind his ear. So he lifted his hind leg and scratched. Then he carefully licked at a wound on his foreleg.

“What the bloody fuck?”

He opened his eyes to see his father staring at him in confused wonder. He stood to his feet….wait…no he didn’t. He looked down, quite surprised to see himself still in wolf form. He made a confused sound that Scooby Doo would have been proud of, and sat down on his hind legs.

Well, this was new.

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Hm....you don't see that every full moon....

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