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Legend of the Wolf	By : Dazzlious Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Fenrir Views: 31881 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from JK Rowling’s fantastic books or films, I’m just borrowing and playing with them for a little while and get no monetary reward for doing so.

Chapter List
- 1-One
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 8-Eight
- 9-Nine
- 10-Ten
- 11-Epilogue
- 7
- 8
- 9
Hermione wasn’t feeling at all well. Aside from the ever-present gnawing pain deep inside her that never really seemed to fade regardless of whatever she and Fenrir did to try to stem it, she now knew she was not-so-slowly dying; her stupid human body was too fragile to accept the touch of her wonderful lover and it seemed there was nothing anyone could do about it.
The worst part about it was that she was to blame for the situation even though she couldn’t possibly have known what was going to happen when she had forced Fenrir to make the Unbreakable Vow.
The unbearable aching need had overwhelmed her the moment she awoke. Fortunately, Fenrir was there to help stem the pain for a short time, but it had left her tender and bruised. It was afterwards, as he held her tightly, that her lover apologised profusely as he explained that no cure had been found but they were unable to keep her sedated any longer in case the sleeping potion damaged her.
Fenrir had gone on to tell Hermione all about the problem of a human/lycanthrope pairing; the explanation of what he had unknowingly inflicted upon them obviously distressed him as he tried to be honest and explicit about what it meant for them both. He had not mentioned the vow, nor had he at any point intimated that the situation they found themselves in was Hermione’s fault, but she wasn’t stupid and while listening to the old lycanthrope tale he had told her, she rapidly worked out why there was no hope of a cure.
Professor Snape had been blunt, wanting to send Fenrir away completely as it was clear Hermione was once again being weakened by their regular need to mate, but somehow she had managed to convince the teacher to allow the werewolf to stay. Hermione remembered how she had felt at Malfoy Manor when she was separated from Fenrir and knew that the longer they were mated, the worse the feeling would grow.
Fenrir was trying to keep away from her for as long as possible to limit the amount of damage he was doing to her body, and during those periods Professor Snape, who she had now discovered was Headmaster of Hogwarts, kept her company and talked to her to try to take her mind off the crippling pain that separation caused.
It was during these private conversations that the Headmaster told Hermione all about Harry’s quest, surprising her with the realisation that Lucius had kept her a prisoner for far longer than she had realised, the weeks she had thought it was having actually been several months. He even revealed to her what he could of Dumbledore’s plan, knowing that he would need her help when Harry and Ron eventually made it back to the school, something he assured Hermione should happen at any time in the next few days.
Professor Snape spent considerable time stressing the importance of getting Greyback on their side, as his werewolves were sure to follow their leader and could help to turn the tide of the battle. He also hinted at his own role in the upcoming war, and Hermione found herself admiring the teacher in a way she had never done before, understanding that he too was facing almost certain death.

Then Harry was back at Hogwarts, and as much as part of her wanted to hear about his experiences, Hermione felt guilty because she didn’t want to leave Fenrir. The bond between them had strengthened even further, and being apart for even a short time was now almost completely unbearable. She had tried to feign ignorance of her friends’ return to the castle, but that was cut short by Professor Snape, who came to remind her of her obligations.
Fenrir completely understood Hermione’s reluctance to join her friends but was also aware that her future was inextricably linked with that of the “Boy Who Lived”, and he hoped that the break from him and their mating would give her body a chance to recover.
But nothing would remove Hermione from his side until Professor Snape was forced out of the castle by Professor McGonagall, who it appeared, didn’t realise that the Headmaster was still working for the Order of the Phoenix, and Voldemort, who had finally decided to attack, announced his intentions with regards to Hogwarts and Harry.
‘You have to go and help your friends now or it will be too late,’ Fenrir told Hermione.
‘I don’t want to leave you,’ she replied.
‘And yet you have to,’ he said gently. ‘Severus told you how much Potter needs your help, and the time is now.’
‘But you know what happens when we’re apart,’ Hermione said, her voice wheedling.
‘Perhaps if you’re busy concentrating on what needs to be done to help Potter successfully complete his mission the pain will go for a while,’ Fenrir suggested hopefully.
Hermione ran her hand down his chest. ‘I think we should go to bed first—’
Fenrir growled as he felt the old desire rising within him, the way it always did. He grabbed the tops of Hermione’s arms and pushed her away from him, keeping her at arm’s length.
‘Stop it,’ he said sharply. ‘This is important, Hermione. You know it is. If your friend fails and Voldemort wins he will kill you, you know this. You have to go and help . . . and you have to do it now.’
I’m going to die anyway, Hermione thought bitterly, but the guilt had already surfaced once again and she knew she had to go and help Harry.
‘Can we make love just once more before I go?’ she begged.
Fenrir shook his head. ‘There’s no time, my love, you know that. Anyway, just think: once this battle is over our lovemaking will be magnificent.’ He pulled Hermione close for a deep kiss before releasing her. ‘Go and assist your friends. I will go and gather my pack so we can help defend the castle against the Death Eaters.’
Knowing Fenrir was right, Hermione planted another brief kiss on her lover before rushing to join Harry and Ron. The sooner this was done, the sooner she and Fenrir could be together once more.

Harry and Ron were overjoyed to see Hermione again. They were both extremely relieved that she had managed to get away from Lucius Malfoy’s clutches in one piece. There was no time for explanations, though, so Hermione’s new life and the circumstances surrounding it weren’t mentioned, but both boys were worried at how pale and ill she looked. She seemed broken somehow, but neither of them wanted to be the one to ask the question. They had other more urgent things to do and little time to complete their tasks.
Within minutes of meeting up along with many others at the Room of Requirement, the three of them headed off. Harry, rather reluctantly went with Luna to find Rowena Ravenclaw’s lost diadem while Hermione went with Ron to find a Basilisk fang, he explaining as they went about the Horcruxes and the loss of Gryffindor’s sword to the Death Eater’s at Malfoy Manor.
By the time, they finally reached the Chamber of Secrets the dull ache, which had started to become painful as soon as she left Fenrir, had become almost crippling. Hermione had to work hard to focus on what they were supposed to be achieving rather than jumping on Ron, who had never seemed more attractive to her than he did at that moment.
There was one extremely sticky moment when Ron passed Hermione the Basilisk fang and told her to destroy the gold cup he was carrying, which he assured her was a Horcrux. At first, she didn’t want to do it, but after a little coaxing by her best friend, she managed to thrust the fang through the sparkling metal to destroy it.
They were standing so close that Hermione could smell Ron’s desire and arousal. It was nowhere near as strong or as keen as hers or Fenrir’s, but it was there all the same. Already sinking into the madness the pain forced upon her, she grabbed the redhead and pulled him to her, kissing him passionately.
As Ron returned the kiss, desire flared brightly in Hermione. The separation from her lover made her desperate and her hands began snaking over Ron’s body, trying to find and free the erection she was sure was there. But Ron pulled away, looking at Hermione in shock at her attack on him. Before she could say anything to explain her behaviour, he began to head back towards the bathroom, telling her gruffly that they needed to get back to Harry.
Hermione was embarrassed at what she had tried to do with her friend, but the urgent need was overwhelming and she had to battle hard to keep herself under control. How she managed to stop herself from grabbing Ron again she had no idea, but somehow she eventually managed to get her feelings back into some sort of order and she followed him back to the Great Hall — and then nothing mattered except helping Harry.

Hermione looked around, taking in the destruction that surrounded her and the dead bodies that littered the floor of the Great Hall. She was close to dropping; she had trouble even standing, let alone walking. She knew part of it was sheer exhaustion after the stressful night of fighting, but it was also down to her incessant need to mate.
Her body was so fragile now that she wasn’t sure how much longer she would be able to survive Fenrir’s touch. The way she felt at the moment it was quite possible that their next mating, which she knew would be every bit as magnificent as he had promised albeit extremely wearing on her body, would be their last.
She watched as Ron broke away, running to join his family who were crowded around a body on the floor, knowing that one of the wonderful Weasleys — someone she cared for, but from where she was standing she was unable to establish who it was — hadn’t made it. She looked at the family, ticking the names off in her mind as she spotted them: Mr and Mrs Weasley, Ron, Ginny, Bill and Fleur, Percy and the twins — she stopped as she realised there was only one twin. It was one of the twins who was dead.
Hermione was numb, unable to feel anything at that moment, not even the sorrow that the death of a friend should have wrought. Even Professor Snape’s death earlier in the battle had engendered more sorrow than she could currently muster.
With a start, her tired brain realised that grief wasn’t the only thing she wasn’t feeling.
Panic began to flood her exhausted body, a sudden rush of adrenalin pushing Hermione to move as she looked around, desperately trying to find any sign of Fenrir. He couldn’t be in the Great Hall or its environs or he would have come to her by now; their need to be together normally overwhelmed all other feelings.
As she walked towards the door her mind slipped inside her body, examining the area that would usually be so painful at their separation. It was there, the dull ache, but it was nowhere near as rampant as Hermione would have expected considering the amount of time she and Fenrir had spent apart. It seemed that somehow, during the fighting, she had finally managed to subjugate the feeling.
Her heart fluttered with hope. If she and Fenrir could work out how she had managed to keep the need under control during the battle she would be able to do it in the future. If Fenrir could master it too, then they would no longer be tied to mating so frequently. It might even give them the time they needed to work out a way to save her.
Hermione heard her name being called but she didn’t bother to stop or look round. Whoever was trying to get her attention, it wasn’t Fenrir, and he was the only person she needed now. Ron was with his family, where he should be at a time like this, Harry was with Ginny, and now Hermione just needed Fenrir’s strong arms around her, holding her tightly while she rested, or more likely mated.
Outside of the Great Hall, the school was even more of a mess, the Entrance Hall badly damaged by the fighting. There was no sign of Fenrir or his werewolves, just little pockets of students — dusty, bruised and bloody — huddled together, comforting and supporting each other.
Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw movement and turned her head. It wasn’t her lover. Lucius Malfoy and his loathsome family were edging their way along the wall, creeping away like thieves in the early morning light. A surge of fury rose within her that the blond man and his family had all survived, seemingly intact, but it didn’t last long. She was too exhausted to keep the rage simmering.
Ignoring the Slytherin trio she made her way out of the castle, across the battle-damaged courtyard, and out into the grounds. There were more people out here, weary as the others inside the castle. Neville was there with Hagrid, organising everyone who could walk to help those who couldn’t. Hermione couldn’t help but be amazed and impressed at Neville’s stamina.
Another makeshift area for bodies had been started beside a half demolished wall. A quick glance was enough for Hermione to spot Colin Creevey amongst them, a boy who shouldn’t even have been allowed to fight at his age. She turned away with tears in her eyes, not wanting to see anyone else she recognised.
No one stopped her as she walked across the grass, not entirely sure where she was headed. Hermione was following her instinct, somehow knowing that Fenrir and his werewolves wouldn’t stay too close to the school. They may have been fighting on the side of Harry and the Order of the Phoenix, but tensions and feelings were running high enough that innocent werewolves could be accidentally attacked or killed by an angry mob.
She was almost at the Forbidden Forest, in the shade of the trees, when she found them, huddled together around their own dead and wounded, just as weary as everyone else. Hermione’s eyes scanned the pack, searching desperately for her lover not certain whether her entrance to the group would be welcomed without him there. She didn’t know whether Fenrir had told his pack about their mating and didn’t want to find herself on the wrong end of claws and fangs.
‘Fenrir?’ she called out tentatively as she neared the group, hoping this would show that she was a friend, not a foe. Again she called, a little louder, surprised to hear the worry in her voice. As she called her lover’s name for the third time two werewolves broke away from the group and walked towards her, one almost human in aspect, the other not yet returned to human form.
‘You are Hermione Granger,’ the human-looking werewolf stated softly. He gazed on Hermione with mournful eyes. ‘My name is Henry.’
Hermione nodded, although it hadn’t been a question. As she looked back at the solemn werewolf a sudden feeling of dread crawled its way slowly up her spine. Why was Fenrir not here with his pack and the one coming to greet her? Had something happened to him? Had he been taken prisoner?
Nausea rose within her as she asked tremulously, ‘Where is Fenrir?’
‘I am so sorry,’ Henry said, his voice still as soft as a summer breeze.
As he said the words a lead weight filled Hermione’s stomach and she shook her head frantically, desperate not to hear the words she knew were coming. But without another word, Henry and the other werewolf stepped forward to hold her arms, gently supporting her as the rest of the pack moved back to reveal the body of Fenrir Greyback lying, as if asleep, at the head of a small group of bodies.
Hermione screamed, loud and raw and painful, the grief, terror and anger that had been bottled up inside her erupting like a volcano. Pulling herself from the grip of the werewolves she threw herself to the floor beside Fenrir’s body, her hand stroking his face as she gazed at him with tear-filled eyes.
He had been more wolf than human when he was killed, but Hermione didn’t care. She had loved him whichever incarnation he was in and now he had been taken away from her and she would never hear his deep voice or see his bright, sparkling eyes again.
Wrapping her arms around him she held him, squeezing and rocking him as she sobbed, the action doing nothing to ease her broken heart.
- 7
- 8
- 9
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Legend of the Wolf