Hunter and Prey

Fenrir jerked inside her a few times then pulled out. Hermione took in a slow, deep breath. If he rolled over and went to sleep like Ron she wouldn’t be able to stop laughing. She felt the hysteria bubbling up in her. She wasn’t coping with this as well as she should. Wasn’t there a place you could go in your head not to think about things? Couldn’t she just pretend this was a bad dream? But no, she had to be the rational one and remember it would take approximately a fortnight before successful implantation and therefore pregnancy.

There were charms to prevent that but they only worked in the first few days. Ditto, for morning after pills. So now she had a deadline. Her periods were quite regular and she was in the fertile part of her cycle, the bastard had been right about that. She was going to kill him then skin him for a throw rug. Or maybe a doormat. Yes, that would be good. She could wipe her boots on him every time she left for work.

Her team would know she was missing by now. They’d search the farm. Poor Basingly would have to talk to Hutchins, who would be little help she was sure. She’d had the scroll in her lap when the effing lycanthrope jumped her. Hermione doubted a werewolf would bother picking up a parchment. So her team would have her notes about boltholes. That was good. They’d do a sweep. They’d come for her. Even if she couldn’t get loose, it would be alright.

It would take time though. There were a lot of places to search. They could trace her wand. The Department had residue charms for all their field agents. No one was going to do a Bagshot and disappear.

What if he’d killed Hutchins? It wouldn’t matter. That was not a nice thought but her team were professionals. They’d report it to the Aurors and there would be a cover story. Her disappearance would work well for that. Some rural madman running amok. And there would be no bloody stupid nonsense about her being responsible for it. Harry had suffered so much moronic drivel from the Daily Prophet that Kingsley had introduced libel laws into the wizarding world.

If anyone so much as hinted she had gone mad out of despair after being dumped by her pureblood husband, Hermione would sue them back to the Dark Ages. She’d heard that offensive bit of gossip from a colleague who’d been talking to someone who worked with a Weasley. Ron had been putting about his version of events. How he’d sought comfort in the arms of another witch because she was a cold-hearted, ambitious mudblood.

Hermione gnawed at the cloth bindings. Alright, so she had not heard him or anyone else use the epithet mudblood but it had been there. Even after Voldemort, even in their golden new world of cooperation and understanding, the thought was still there. That Ron had fooled round because she was somehow inadequate. Because of her muggle blood.

No one would say it was because he was emotionally immature with the self-esteem of a griddylow and the libido of a satyr. She’d seen that herself. All she had to do to get him to agree to anything was get down on her knees to give him a hummer. He’d have bought a timeshare in the Everglades or let her parents move in with them. But she’d not done that. It hadn’t been right. So yet again Hermione took the moral highroad and copped it. She bit angrily at her restraints.

She would get out of this and show everyone that you did not mess with Hermione Jean Granger. Or if you did, you staggered away with your testicles in a paper bag.

For his part, Fenrir stood up and stretched. That had been quite good. He scratched his balls idly as he padded to where he had kept the things he had taken from her. He noticed wizards hunting werewolves but not like in the old days for sport. Now they had guns like the country muggles. Greyback had wondered about that until he had sniffed at the darts she had been carrying. They smelled odd but a little familiar, like stunning curses.

He picked one up carefully now and took it back with him to where his bitch crouched with her hindquarters lifted. If she got away, she wouldn’t take his seed. No cubs. He did not like that. So he stabbed the sharp end of the dart into the roundness of her buttocks. She yelped, kicking out at him but her legs went weak and she flopped onto the flagstones. Fenrir laughed as he watched her thrash.

“If you lie still, it will be over quicker.” He growled into her ear and licked her face. Hermione threw herself forward to head-butt him then dizziness swirled around her as everything went fuzzy. She thought she felt herself hit the floor but by then she had passed out.