Hunter and Prey

“Because I don’t want to be here!” Hermione answered forcefully. Whatever caution she had possessed in dealing with him had gone when she had felt her swollen belly. Fenrir Greyback, in the half-wolf form he seemed to favour, approached her menacingly. She backed away not because she was scared of him but because he had touched her entirely too much already.

“Its good here. Open. Free.” He spread his arms to embrace the sky. “No people pushing in on you. No walls shutting you away.”

“Not for me!” Hermione spat. “I was kidnapped. I was held prisoner. My freedom ended when you decided you had an itch.” She fisted her hands on her hips. There was no backing down now. Her appeasement gambit hadn’t worked. She had been unaware there was a conspiracy to ruin her life but now she did know, Hell hath no fury.

“You’re mine!” Fenrir growled. He was a nightmare direct from the hindbrain, an ancestral memory from monkey-people cowering in caves.

“You’re deluded!” She snarled back. He backhanded her hard enough to knock her off her feet. Hermione struggled to one knee, ready to launch herself at him when a wave of nausea crashed over her. She swallowed and gagged, managing not to empty her stomach but her opportunity for retaliation passed. Fenrir circled around her then dropped to his haunches so he could grab her.

“Our cubs don’t want you to fight me.” His rumbling chuckle was particularly offensive when he put his hand on her lower abdomen where her bump was most prominent. Hermione twisted in his grip to claw his eyes out. Fenrir jerked his head away and shouldered her onto the ground. He was a bully. He shamelessly used his greater weight to pin her, straddling her thighs so she couldn’t kick him. She tried obstinately to do so but he just leaned harder and caught her wrists when she hit him.

“I hate you.” Hermione didn’t shout. She didn’t even hiss viciously. Her words were a cold statement of fact. She hated him with every particle of her being. And he just laughed, rubbing his stiffening penis against her belly insolently.

“Good.” Fenrir grinned so broadly his fangs glinted in the moonlight. Hermione screamed with outrage. The werewolf was enjoying this. She could feel his arousal. He shifted his weight, getting a knee between her legs ready to spread them and enter her. She struggled but her efforts to get loose just excited him further.

“I swear, werewolf, if your rutting makes her miscarry I’ll have you castrated.” A man’s voice, young and confident, intruded on the fraught scene. Hermione turned her head to stare at the speaker who was hurrying over to them with wand drawn. Fenrir bared his teeth further but ceased his effort to mate his bitch.

“Patrick?” Hermione said, disbelieving. It had to be a masking charm or Polyjuice. It couldn’t be the graduate student the SMS Department had so avidly recruited. She’d read his file! He’d got top marks in Care of Magical Creatures. Hagrid had personally recommended him!

“Hello, Hermione. Don’t bother to get up.” Patrick Ryan smiled at her, his eyes straying to her breasts before returning to meet her stare. “You really should have stayed where you were put.” His tone was casual but his wand did not waver. “Its not like we weren’t going to feed you. You’re eating for four now, you know.” He winked at her. Fenrir growled at the wizard’s flirting and Ryan became more professional. “Are you going to be a good girl and go back to your room?”

“Fuck you!” Hermione usually tried not to swear aloud. No one respected a witch with a potty-mouth but this was truly a moment for profanity.

“Tempting.” Ryan agreed as though she had offered rather than cursed. “But your mate won’t let anyone else play with his toy, alas.” He grinned at her, the harsh shadows turning his expression into something as monstrous as Fenrir. “I got to watch, though. Scientific method is vital in magical research.” He mimicked her phrase with devastating parody. “Had to make sure you were thoroughly fertilised.” His gaze travelled over her body. “I must say Ms Granger, once you got started it was all the werewolf could do to keep up.”

“Why?” The question burst out of her. Hermione could not comprehend this madness.

“Why you? Or why anyone?” Ryan queried then shrugged. “We were going to use Lynch but Wolfman here didn’t like her scent. Then when you took over the team, he was mad keen to have you.” He leered at her then laughed. “You have excellent timing, by the way. The conjunction of your cycle, the equinox and the moon was nearly perfect. Its quite likely you conceived the first time though of course we had to be sure. So the werewolf got to keep you for a while.”

Fenrir’s teeth ground but the wizard didn’t seem to notice. Ryan was enjoying his gloating too much.

“We had the perfect place picked out for your stay, an old barn that was unplottable. But Rover got spooked when the Aurors swept the area and he moved you to that cottage.” He frowned. Everything had been going so well until then. Tethering her to the wall had lacked style but it had been effective. Right up until the lycanthrope got an attack of stupid. “I didn’t know he’d left the kid alive until we got to Scotland. Of course, by then it was too late to tidy up.”

“You knew he killed Elinor’s parents?” Indignation warred with hope. That Ryan could so lightly discard two people’s lives was beyond the pale but if he hadn’t known about the little girl then Elinor might be alright. Hermione didn’t know whether to cross her fingers or clench her fists.

“They were only Muggles.” The idle malice was too unthinking to be feigned. He truly believed that. “But dogboy screwed up so we had to drag you to this dump.” He smirked. “There’s nothing to do here but drink whiskey, fish and watch him fuck you.” Ryan rubbed himself. He spoke directly to Fenrir this time, having almost ignored him until that point. “Well, get on with it, gently mind, then I’ll Obliviate her and we’ll drag her back to bed.”

The werewolf leapt for his throat.