Hunter and Prey

He was fully human, leaner than she recalled. His pepper and salt hair was short, growing out from the buzz cut he would have got in Ministry custody. He can’t have escaped that long ago judging from his stubbly chin. All these irrelevant thoughts rushed through her head as Hermione weighed her options.

“You will forgive me if I do not take that as a compliment.” She said in her most careful voice. Baiting a werewolf was not a tactical move. Neither was charging him. Glancing aside, she saw the window had a security grille. It looked new. How she wished she had her wand but if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

Fenrir laughed, a deep throaty rumble that even in human form sounded like a growl. He stalked closer, dark eyes narrowed and wary. He was a hunter and she was cornered prey, that was what he was thinking, Hermione thought. She tensely waited until he was halfway between her and the door. Any closer and he could grab. Tightening her grip on the baby, she threw the scissors hard at the werewolf and ran.

He’d flinch, she was certain. The flash of steel flying towards him would look like silver and he would instinctively shy away from it. Hermione did not waste a second in looking. She bolted past him, down the hall and down the stairs. The front door was right there. Slowing only to grab the knob, she twisted. The door didn’t budge. She turned the knob sharply the other way before realisation that it was locked caught up with her.

Hermione turned, saw the werewolf at the top of the stairs and dashed into the dining room. She kicked her shin on a fallen chair but kept going through to the kitchen. There were two doors to her left that she ignored; her goal was the backdoor into the garden. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him open one of those other doors. Her hand closed around the knob just as he cannoned into them.

Fenrir tackled his bitch not to stop her, because he had locked all the outside doors, but to knock her down. Hermione went sprawling across the tiles and he grabbed the infant. The muggle child was good bait for a muggle-born witch.

“You run and I bite this little one.” He showed his teeth to her. “You know me, smart bitch. You know I will.” The hate in her eyes pleased him. If he hadn’t been holding the infant she would have attacked him. Even now she was looking for weapons.

“What do you want in exchange for her?” Hermione negotiated, thinking fast. There were three rooms downstairs not counting the front hall. Two doors out, both locked. But no washing machine. The last door left to her was probably a pantry but there could be a laundry through there and another way out. Once she had the little girl, she would head for that door. At worst she could barricade herself inside.

“You.” Fenrir rubbed himself significantly, bringing to Hermione’s attention that he was naked. She had managed not to notice that until this moment. “Our cubs. Not this soft one.” He dangled the tiny muggle by the scruff of her neck. She cried and the witch started for her before he made a warning noise in the back of his throat. “No, bitch, you want her, you have to agree. I want a litter from your belly. My litter for this pink thing.”

She couldn’t trust him. Not an inch. But this wasn’t about a bargain. Hermione decided grimly what she had to do. This was about buying time. Sooner or later, the Department or the Aurors would find them. She just had to keep herself and the little girl alive until then. There was no question of calling the werewolf’s bluff. He wasn’t bluffing and she had fought too hard against those who would sacrifice muggles to do the same. So Hermione untucked the blanket and spread her legs for Fenrir Greyback.