Hunter and Prey

Hermione woke to pain and cold. She was thankful she woke at all. Opening her eyes expecting to see grass or starry sky, instead there were flagstones. She blinked, realising with awful clarity that she was naked. Her mouth went dry. It was just possible this was some sick joke. Lifting her head, Hermione found herself in a barn or an outbuilding. The walls were stone but she didn’t think she was in a cellar as there was a wooden roof.

A cascade of freezing water splashed over her, making her shudder and grimace from the pain. Just a bruise on her back she thought as the worst of the gasping hurt had ebbed. Hermione pushed herself off the floor ready to confront whoever had doused her. She got as far as her elbows and knees. Someone had tied her wrists and ankles to bolts set in the floor, with what looked like the rags of her clothes. This must be a barn; the bolts were there to secure livestock. She’d once seen a mean-tempered cow milked with all four legs bound.

That memory brought with it a horrible sick feeling. Hermione had a very good imagination. She peered into the dark. She could see shapes and shadows but it was still night. Maybe this was Hutchins’s idea of a lesson. She could almost bear the thought of that. If he so much as touched her she’d make him regret ever being born but that was preferable to the alternative.

A low, growling chuckle accompanied the noise of a wooden bucket being dropped. Hermione jerked her head in the direction of the noise. It wasn’t Hutchins. The shape was bipedal but the farmer was a short man and as it neared she could pick out details. Dark fur, thick muscle, pale lines of scar tissue where no fur grew and a flash of teeth.

Fenrir Greyback padded around his prize in half-man form. He’d needed thumbs to bind her and fetch the water to clean the smell off her. That ointment had fooled him until he got within sight of her at the farm. She’d smelled of nature not human. But once he’d seen her, he’d known her shape. Bellatrix had promised her to him. Bellatrix was dead but he had the female now.

“I thought about killing you.” Fenrir said, absently scratching his shoulder where her curse had just clipped him. He had been lucky. If he hadn’t tipped her over the wall when he leapt she would have hit him dead on. But he had and she hadn’t and now she was the one tied up like she had been doing for those pathetic humans he’d bitten. It had been amusing to hunt the hunters. Even more fun now he had one. This one.

“You should have. I am going to kill you.” Hermione spoke through her teeth to keep them from chattering. She was shivering cold. Even her burning anger couldn’t warm her. Fenrir laughed, moving behind her. She tensed expecting any moment for him to bite her. They were close to a cure but not close enough. Professor Lupin had managed. Would it be so bad? It would be just one more incentive to complete this project. Hermione screwed her eyes shut and told herself she would get out of this.

He licked her. She jerked, twisting away as far as she could. Fenrir simply moved and ran his tongue up along her other thigh to the curve of her buttocks. Hermione kicked out at him but the bindings were too short. All she managed to do was knock her knee against the stone floor. She hissed a curse as he rubbed himself against her. This was not happening!

“It’s been a long time since I had a mate.” Fenrir said conversationally because he liked the smell of fear and words were good for that. With the masking scent gone, she smelled of female and the apple shampoo she used for her hair. It was pleasant. He was getting hard. He licked her sex, making her shudder and lash out at him again. She hit this time, her heel against his elbow but she was weaker than him and he was good with knots.

“Bugger off, you sick bastard!” Hermione shouted, jerking her arms. It was only cloth, it would give way. But he’d twisted it tight. Her hands and feet were going numb. Tied too long like this the tissue would be starved of blood and begin to die. It was a measure of the grimness of the situation, she thought as she yanked against her bonds, that I am using the prospect of gangrene to distract myself.

“Bugger? No.” Fenrir laughed deep. He had just been going to kill her until he realised she was female. It had been difficult to tell. The bushy hair he remembered was cut short in a bob. Her clothes were like those the country people wore. He had thought she was the farmer before he had got closer. He licked her sex again, tasting her. He couldn’t smell any male on her. It had been a while since she had mated. And he thought she was in season.

Hermione froze as Fenrir mounted her like a bitch. She could feel his penis rubbing against her labia and she had to bite down on an urge to vomit. He pushed into her slowly, stretching her, pausing to adjust his position as though he had all the time in the world to rape her. He drew his tongue across her back, over the hot bruise making her flinch. That let him slide all the way in, which he liked. She had good hips and could take all of him.

“This is good.” Fenrir laughed as he stroked a little. Her body reacted and made her receptive for him. That was why he hadn’t mounted roughly. He could have. He could take her any way he wanted but it would hurt her more to like it. “You are so clever, witch.” He braced his legs to support his weight so he could use his hands on her. “Do you know what night it is?”

“March 20th.” Hermione answered sharply. Should she struggle? She did not want to participate in this in any way. He was too heavy to buck off. Could she squeeze him out? Probably not and trying would just please him. Lying down and taking it meant she would have no control at all. She wouldn’t, couldn’t do that.

“The vernal equinox.” He corrected, stroking some more.

“That’s tomorrow!” The witch snapped back at him. She was stubborn. He liked that too. He didn’t want to mate with someone who was weak and cried and begged. That sort of prey deserved killing.

“Only on the calendar, bitch.” Fenrir reached forward to cup her breasts. They filled his hands. Good for suckling. He grinned, scraping his teeth against her back but not breaking the skin. He wasn’t going to turn her. No, he had other plans. “I can scent it. I can feel it. The rite of spring is tonight.” He was sure as only an animal could be. “And I have a ripe mate under me to give me cubs.”