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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
- 8
- 9
- 10
Hermione lay on her side, looking at the whitewashed wall. She was pretending to be asleep because she didn’t want to talk to Ginny. She didn’t want to talk to anyone really, although over the last couple of weeks all of them had tried to get through to her.
She knew they had questions — wanted to know what she had been doing with the werewolves and why she was so desperate to return to them once she woke from the deep sleep that exhaustion, grief and her weakened body had forced upon her. But she wasn’t ready to explain . . . wasn’t ready to face up to the reality of what had happened to her or deal with the loss.
Hermione had stayed with Fenrir’s body, her arms still wrapped around him as the sun moved across the sky, the werewolves lamenting the loss of their fallen leader and pack-mates, their howls of despair filling the still morning.
Eventually, although she did not intend it, Hermione drifted into sleep, the werewolves’ cries no longer painful and heart-rending to her but rather soothing and comforting. She dreamt of Fenrir, and he pulled her into his strong arms, telling her that everything was going to be fine, that he would always love her — he would never leave her and would protect her forever.
It was while Hermione slept that Hagrid came to the werewolves. Relieved, they allowed him to take her back to the school and her friends as they were unsure of what to do with this frail human girl who showed no sign of leaving them. Fenrir was gone and a new leader would soon take his place, and there was no room for a human in their ranks even if she had been the beloved mate of their previous leader.
Hermione went to the Burrow with the remaining Weasleys and Harry, Hogwarts having been closed down for repairs. She was at the graveside when Fred was interred, her sorrow not only for the ginger-haired joker but also for her beloved Fenrir whose funeral she had not been able to attend, she wasn’t entirely sure whether werewolves even had funerals. She didn’t cry, though. She was unable to cry, too worried about what she might inadvertently unleash if she lost control even for a moment.
In the weeks after the funerals, she listened quietly and politely to the dinner table conversations as Harry and Ron told the assembled guests all about their adventures on the trail of Voldemort’s remaining Horcruxes and of the Deathly Hallows, while George recounted the Order’s work in helping Harry, providing bittersweet memories of his and his twin’s time on Potterwatch.
Everyone divulged their tales of the war and its aftermath and relived their memories of those who had died, seemingly needing to share their feelings in order to heal. But Hermione had remained reticent about her own ordeal at the hands of Lucius Malfoy and her sudden close association with the werewolves, not yet able to talk about what had happened or the lover she had so cruelly lost.
The dull ache was still there, still buried as deep inside her as it had been at the end of the battle, but Hermione knew now that she hadn’t managed to subjugate it: it had merely receded because her lover was dead.
Despite that, she could still feel it inside her, threatening to break free if she just concentrated on it hard enough and for that reason, she couldn’t think about Fenrir anywhere near as much or as deeply as she wanted to. Thinking about him caused longing, and longing would set off that untenable desire once more. Without her beloved werewolf to stem the need she would surely go mad.
Hermione sighed loudly as she rolled over onto her back, now looking up at the ceiling and wishing, not for the first time, that she had died before Fenrir. That would have solved all her problems. How was she supposed to go on when everything that had made her life worth living had been taken away?
‘Are you okay?’ Ginny asked. She was lying on her side in her own bed and staring at Hermione.
Hermione turned her head to look at her friend. ‘I’m fine,’ she replied, giving a wan smile. ‘I was just thinking that I should get up and wishing I could be lazy and lie here for a bit longer.’
Ginny looked at Hermione without speaking for a moment. They both knew that what she had just said wasn’t at all what she was really thinking but Ginny wasn’t going to call her out on it. Hermione would talk when she was ready to, and if she felt she had to lie until she was able to share, then so be it.
No one but Hermione had any idea of what she had suffered at the hands of Lucius Malfoy and they would let her recover in her own way. Ginny rolled onto her back, stretching her arms as she straightened out a kink in her spine.
‘I suppose you’re right,’ she said with a yawn. ‘We should get up or Mum will be on the warpath. You know how she hates lollygaggers, as she calls them. Just ‘cos she only needs about three hours sleep a night she seems to think everyone else should be able to manage on that too,’ she complained. ‘Merlin only knows what crap she’s going to find for us to do today. You’d think she might cut us some slack after everything that happened at Hogwarts but she’s working us into the ground.’
‘She’s trying to block out her grief,’ Hermione said knowingly as she sat up, swinging her legs round and off the side of the bed before standing up. ‘She thinks if she’s busy she’ll be able to forget what happened to Fred. She’s passing it off onto everyone else as if it’s the best thing for them, too, not realising that people deal with grief in very different ways.’
‘So who are you grieving for, Hermione?’ Ginny asked softly as she followed her friend out of bed.
Hermione, who was in the middle of retrieving her clothes, paused for a second and stared at Ginny, her heart beating double time with sudden panic. Trying to keep her voice even, she asked, ‘What makes you think I’m grieving for someone?’
Ginny shrugged. ‘You’ve been really quiet since we got back to the Burrow and you never laugh anymore. I know we’ve been through some tough times, especially recently, but you seem to have been through more than most of us. We thought maybe Lucius Malfoy had done something to you . . . but I’ve just realised that you’re grieving, aren’t you?’
Hermione shook her head as if to disagree but an image of Fenrir popped into her mind. She tried to push it back down but by the time she had, Ginny had made her way around the bed and wrapped her arms around her, holding her tightly.
‘I know you don’t want to talk about it but maybe it would help if you did,’ Ginny told her quietly. ‘Or, you know, have a good cry or something to get it out of your system.’
Hermione was beginning to feel overwhelmed, swamped with sudden emotion that she was trying hard to fight. She hadn’t realised how powerful one hug could be. Part of her wanted to succumb to the warmth and safety it offered, wanted to sink into it and let go of all her pain, anger and sorrow, but she knew if she did she would be lost. She couldn’t think about Fenrir now, she just couldn’t.
‘Let go, Hermione,’ Ginny said soothingly, one of her hands stroking Hermione’s hair as she held her. ‘You don’t have to keep it all bottled up inside. It’s okay to let go.’
‘No, I can’t,’ Hermione retorted. She sounded scared.
She knew what letting go would unleash and was worried that once she started she wouldn’t be able to stop. But as hard as Hermione tried to keep her feelings under control she realised the tears were welling and she couldn’t hold them back; the pain in her heart matched by that dull ache she had managed to keep locked down inside her for so long.
Ginny guided her back to the bed and the two of them sat down as she continued to hold Hermione, watching with growing concern as her friend tried and failed to stop the tears that Ginny was convinced she needed to shed to move on.
‘What happened to you?’ she whispered, worry clouding her voice.
Ginny’s concern, so caring and gentle, was the last straw for Hermione. Like a dam bursting its banks, her tears began to fall, flowing freely as she pressed against Ginny’s shoulder. A painful keening noise erupted from that place deep inside where her desire and sorrow had intermingled for so long.
Although at first startled by the sound, Ginny continued to comfort her, whispering softly in her ear as she rocked Hermione, giving her the chance to share her grief or not, as she chose.

Molly Weasley was on her way to rouse the children out of bed when she heard the noise coming from Ginny’s room. Immediately, the dull pain in her heart intensified at the sound of Hermione — she knew it wasn’t Ginny who was reacting that way — sobbing her heart out. Automatically she reached for the door handle, intending to go and comfort the distressed girl, but she managed to stop herself.
Rumours had been circulating ever since Lucius Malfoy abducted Hermione and although Molly and Arthur didn’t want to believe any of them were true, it had to be admitted that there was usually no smoke without fire. It did seem extremely odd that Hermione had managed to escape her captor after being held for so long and it was clear that she had been through an ordeal of some description, one that had left her fragile and weak.
Arthur had instructed the family not to badger Hermione about her experiences, hoping that she would open up of her own accord once everyone else began sharing their stories. But Hermione had remained quiet and withdrawn, the seriousness that she had always shown intensifying until it eclipsed everything else. She never smiled now and she certainly hadn’t opened up to anyone about what she had been through . . . until today.
It seemed that somehow Ginny had managed to get beneath the shield Hermione had so carefully erected and had finally got her to talk. It was probably better that the two girls were left alone to work through Hermione’s distress. Molly would be there to offer comfort later if it was required.
Turning away from the door, she continued up the stairs towards Ron’s room.

‘Do you want to tell me about it?’ Ginny asked quietly. Hermione was still sobbing on her shoulder, but the intensity had died down and she seemed more in control.
Hermione shook her head.
‘Is it something to do with Lucius Malfoy?’ Ginny pushed.
She was determined to get Hermione to talk now she had found a chink in her armour. Like the rest of her family, and probably most of Hogwarts, Ginny had heard the rumours about the blond Death Eater and Hermione’s time spent in his company. She wasn’t going to directly say anything, though, she would leave it to Hermione to fill her in on what had really happened between them.
‘Did he do something bad to you, Hermione?’
Hermione shook her head again, then pulled back to look at Ginny. Her face was a mess of tear-streaked cheeks, made worse by her look of distress.
‘Lucius Malfoy didn’t touch me,’ she said, her voice gruff after all the crying. Ginny went to reply but Hermione held her hand up to stop her. ‘Oh, he wanted to. He wanted me to become his lover but I refused to even consider it.’ She gave a small, bitter laugh. ‘In fact, I refused so much that he tried to force me into it, and in doing so he pushed me straight into the arms of someone else.’
Ginny bit her lip for a moment as she listened to her friend. ‘And that someone else, did they . . . .’
She broke off, not wanting to say the word “die” as it sounded too harsh, too uncaring, even though she was trying to be supportive and knew that it could be the only reason Hermione was so upset.
Hermione gave a small nod, then sniffed as she wiped away her tears with her hand. ‘He died during the battle.’
‘I’m so sorry, Hermione.’
Ginny murmured the words quietly as the confirmation made her wonder who Hermione’s mystery lover was. She had no intention of pushing her friend into revealing his identity unless she wanted to, but she couldn’t help but consider the people she knew who had lost their lives in that stupid fight, trying to work out for herself who it could be.
She could feel her own tears rising as Fred’s face popped into her mind for a moment. He wasn’t Hermione’s mystery man, of that Ginny was certain otherwise, his funeral and the aftermath would have elicited more of a response from her. Whoever Hermione was grieving for was obviously someone outside of their usual circle of friends, someone she had become involved with whilst in Lucius Malfoy’s custody. But who would have had access to her during that period?
After swirling around for a few seconds, Ginny’s mind drifted towards Professor Snape. Hermione had spent a lot of time with the Potions Master turned Headmaster after her return to Hogwarts, he had been pretending to be a Death Eater for years and been a close friend of the Malfoys, and he had died during the battle.
Had Snape been Hermione’s lover? It seemed unlikely, but then Ginny had trouble imagining her with anyone but Ron. Yet her friend had just told her there was someone. But where did the werewolves come into it and why had she been so desperate to track them down? Was it because they had something to do with the death and Hermione had been looking for confirmation of that?
But if that was the case then Snape probably wasn’t Hermione’s lover either. As far as Ginny could remember Snape had died at Voldemort’s hands in the Shrieking Shack and she didn’t think he had any connection with the werewolves. It was all a mystery and she wished Hermione would open up and talk to her about it.
Ginny gave a small cough as she rubbed her eyes, and this was enough to stop her tears. She focussed once more on Hermione who, now that she had almost stopped crying too, seemed calm once more.
‘Did the werewolves do it?’ Ginny asked, unable to keep her curiosity about Hermione’s association with them bottled up any longer. ‘Did they . . . .’
Once again her voice trailed off as she saw Hermione’s face at the question.
‘They were on our side,’ Hermione told her quietly.
Ginny looked surprised. ‘But that werewolf who turned Professor Lupin . . . what was his name? Greybeard or something, wasn’t it? He was one of Voldemort’s, so I’m sure his pack were all on his side too.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Actually, I think he died during the battle as well. I’m sure someone . . . was it Hagrid . . . mentioned it. Good riddance, I say . . . and remember what he did to Bill, as well.’ She looked satisfied and added maliciously, ‘He was a really nasty bastard by all accounts. I’m glad he died. He deserved it.’
Hermione stared with horror at her friend as she criticised Fenrir, her heart twinging with pain at the words as her face hardened. Finally, Ginny stopped speaking and Hermione stood up, her expression angry.
‘You know nothing about him,’ she said coldly as she moved to pick up her clean clothes from where she had left them over the footboard end of the bed.
She walked towards the door, collecting her wash bag and towel on the way as Ginny watched her, blinking in surprise at Hermione’s sudden outburst.
Then Hermione turned and looked back at her friend. ‘His name was Greyback, not Greybeard . . . Fenrir Greyback . . . and I loved him more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my entire life.’
Before Ginny could say another word, Hermione opened the bedroom door and left, fighting down the urge to slam it behind her as she went. She made her way to the bathroom rapidly, desperate not to bump into anyone else. Her anger with Ginny was immense after her comments, and Hermione knew it would only take one wrong word from another member of the family and she would lash out in her pain, possibly ruining her relationship with the Weasley family forever.
Hermione did slam the door of the bathroom before she locked it. She enjoyed hearing the sound, pleased to be closeted away on her own where she could think about her beloved Fenrir without stupid Ginny Weasley being a bitch about him. In her anger, Hermione thought of all sorts of things she could say to Ginny to ensure she was as upset as Ginny had made her, and she was tempted to leave the bathroom and go back and argue with the redhead. Instead, she took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down.
Once she had, she opened her wash bag and pulled out a white stretchy towelling headband and used it to pull her hair back from her face, then set to work carefully washing before finding her toothbrush and toothpaste. As she cleaned her teeth she looked at herself in the mirror. The tears were gone, her annoyance at Ginny’s words pushing them away and leaving a scowl on her face instead. What did bloody Ginny Weasley know about anything anyway, and who was she to judge Fenrir? Hermione glared at the mirror, checking her freshly-brushed teeth. She pulled the floss from her wash bag and began to use it as she raged against the unfairness of what Ginny had said.
So, they all had to be upset and respectful at Fred’s death when everyone knew that actually, he could be a right royal pain-in-the-arse when he wanted to be, but it was fine for them to be mean and rude about her beloved Fenrir just because he was a werewolf. Ginny didn’t even know him and yet she had said she was glad he was dead.
That was the bit that hurt most — that her so-called friends had judged Fenrir without even knowing him and were glad he was dead. Hermione put away her toiletries, in her anger pushing them back into the bag with more force than was strictly necessary. If that was how Ginny felt then surely the rest of them must feel the same way, and if that was the case Hermione didn’t want to be around them any longer. She would never be able to properly grieve for her lost love when all she could think about was how glad the rest of them were that he was gone.
She picked up the towel and wiped her hands on it before folding it up. For a moment, Remus and Tonks, now dead and buried as Fenrir was, flitted into her memory. Hermione sat down on the edge of the bath and stared down at the folded towel feeling the tears well in her eyes again. It was true that Fenrir had done some awful things during his lifetime, but he had changed since he had been with her, had become a better person — or at least had not been quite as vicious as before their mating. He had fought against Voldemort and his followers, had even died fighting against the Death Eaters, and he had loved her every bit as much as she had loved him. Yet he was to be accorded no honours amongst her friends because of his prior actions.
She had forgotten that Fenrir had been the one to attack Bill, but at least he hadn’t killed him. He hadn’t even turned him into a werewolf. Bill could quite easily have been just as badly injured by another Death Eater, but now Fenrir was dead there would be no chance for him to redeem himself in the eyes of the Weasley clan. It seemed so unfair.
Now that Ginny had mentioned his name Hermione couldn’t stop thinking about him and the pain that had disappeared so deep inside of her had started up once more. The dull ache she had hoped never to feel again made her suddenly anxious and afraid. How could she stem the desire when her lover was no longer around to give her the relief she needed? How would she stop herself from going mad? And now she didn’t even have Professor Snape to help her.
She sighed again as she thought of Ginny, probably still waiting for her in the bedroom. She didn’t want to talk to her now, but then she didn’t want to face the rest of the family either. She needed to leave the Burrow, needed to follow her own path to salvation. Her friends couldn’t help her now, or maybe ever, with their hostile view of Fenrir clouding everything. But she couldn’t leave the Burrow without going back to the bedroom to pack up her belongings and that meant dealing with Ginny.
Hermione’s heart sank at the thought of having to talk to her again, but it couldn’t be helped. There was no other way she was going to get out. She unlocked the bathroom door and peered out into the corridor making sure there was no one else around then made her way back to the bedroom trying to force herself to stay calm.

Ginny was shocked at Hermione’s outburst that saw her storming out of the bedroom. For the first thirty seconds or so after Hermione left she sat there, almost frozen like a statue, before the words her friend had said filtered through her brain so she could actually make some sense of them. Even then she was having trouble believing what she had heard.
The person Hermione was grieving for, the one she was in love with, was the werewolf who had almost killed Ginny’s brother, Bill. It obviously answered the question of why Hermione had been so determined to find the werewolves, but it still made absolutely no sense.
What on earth had possessed Hermione to take a werewolf as vicious as Fenrir Greyback as a lover . . . and why hadn’t he killed her or at the very least turned her into a werewolf as he had tried to do with Bill and managed to do with Professor Lupin? Why would Hermione even have considered it knowing what that animal had done to friends of hers? She had told Ginny that Lucius Malfoy had driven her to it, but surely nothing he could have done would be bad enough for that, would it?
Ginny got dressed as she waited for Hermione to return, annoyed at first at Hermione’s attitude . . . no . . . at Hermione’s confession. But as she waited she remembered what she had said about being pleased about the werewolf’s death and she understood why her friend had acted as she had. If Hermione really was in love with Greyback then it was understandable that she had been upset by the things she had said. Ginny couldn’t help but feel bad because although she felt sorry for her friend she still couldn’t help but feel glad that the werewolf had died. No wonder Hermione hadn’t wanted to share her grief with anyone else. How could she when she knew everyone would judge her badly for her choice of lover, would condemn her for choosing someone who had caused pain and strife for their family?
She waited so long for Hermione that Ginny began to wonder whether she was actually going to come back. Perhaps her friend was stalling, hoping she would get dressed and go downstairs rather than wait to have another conversation. This was possible and certainly more likely than Hermione having gone straight downstairs after finishing up in the bathroom.
But Ginny had no intention of going downstairs.
Regardless of who Hermione had chosen to love, she was going through pain and Ginny knew she wouldn’t be much of a friend if she didn’t at least give her the opportunity to get it off her chest. She had to get Hermione to talk about the werewolf and what had happened to her, and however shocking Hermione’s confession might be Ginny had to make sure not to judge her. If she had to wait all day for Hermione to come back then that was what she would do. Hermione was a friend, almost family really, and she could not be allowed to suffer on her own.
Ginny had just finished making Hermione’s bed, having already finished with her own, when the door opened slowly and Hermione came into the room. She had obviously been crying again although her face was currently dry. Ignoring Ginny completely, Hermione began to put away her wash bag, hanging the damp towel over the chair to air.
‘Hermione, I’m so sorry for what I said about your lover,’ Ginny said as she watched her friend moving slowly and deliberately around the room, collecting up her belongings. ‘I obviously didn’t realise that you and he were intimate . . . and I was upset because of what he did to Bill.’
Hermione didn’t say anything nor did she stop her collecting. Ginny watched her tensely, wondering what else she could say, but then Hermione moved to her bed and placed the things she was carrying onto it. She turned to look at Ginny, her face a mask of despair.
‘Fenrir didn’t kill Bill,’ she pointed out. ‘Nor did he turn him into a werewolf. Bill could have just as easily been injured by one of the other Death Eaters who was there that night. Fenrir was just fighting in his usual way.’
Ginny felt herself stiffen with anger at Hermione’s words. She couldn’t believe her friend was trying to defend the werewolf.
‘He bit him, though,’ Ginny said coldly. ‘And he was fighting on the side of the Death Eaters. Why are you making excuses for him?’
‘I’m not,’ Hermione said miserably. ‘I’m just pointing out the facts. Your brother didn’t die nor did he become a werewolf, so while I understand you didn’t like Fenrir for what he did, your utter hatred of him is unfair, especially when I know the sort of man he became before the end.’
She looked down at the bed for a moment before raising her head to look at Ginny once more.
‘I loved Fenrir with all my heart and he loved me just as much. He and the members of his pack that died did so fighting for Harry and the Order of the Phoenix. They were killed and injured by Death Eaters, just as your brothers were, and because he died he will never be able to prove to you that he wasn’t the monster you think he is — and I will never be able to grieve for him properly because all the time I will know that you and your family are resenting me for having those feelings about him.’
Ginny heard the pain in Hermione’s voice and her heart went out to her. As distasteful and horrific as it was to contemplate, if what Hermione had said was true then both Fred and Hermione’s werewolves had been killed fighting the same foe. How could she honestly mourn the loss of one yet not acknowledge the loss of the other when they had not only fought for the Order but changed sides to do so, an act that would have gained the entire pack immediate death had Voldemort learned of their treachery?
‘You’re right that I’ve been unfair to judge,’ Ginny admitted stiffly. She moved over to Hermione and took her hands, pulling her down onto the bed. ‘But I still don’t understand how you and Fenrir became lovers. How on earth did that happen?’
Hermione studied Ginny’s face for a moment as if searching for a trick but apparently found nothing. She sighed loudly and said, ‘I told you, it was Lucius Malfoy. He forced me into it. But I honestly had no idea what was going to happen.’ She squeezed Ginny’s hands that she was still holding. ‘Look, if I tell you about it . . . if I tell you everything that happened will you promise me you won’t tell anyone else?’
Ginny nodded her agreement but said, ‘But why don’t you want anyone else to know, Hermione? Don’t you think everyone would understand better if you explained it?’
‘I don’t want everyone judging me,’ Hermione admitted. ‘And they will do. What happened was strange, and I don’t know exactly what the outcome is going to be as I’m still living through it, but I can’t make it public at the moment.’
Ginny smiled. ‘Anything you tell me will be our secret, I promise. If you want to share later then I’ll be there to support you, but you don’t need to tell anyone else unless you feel comfortable doing so.’
Hermione returned the smile, although it was slightly wan. ‘Actually, I think I need to tell someone,’ she admitted. ‘The only person I’ve ever spoken about it to apart from Fenrir was Professor Snape, and I didn’t even tell him everything because I was too embarrassed.’
‘I’m here to listen to whatever you want to tell me,’ Ginny reiterated.
Hermione looked at her friend, took a deep breath then told her, ‘It started sometime after Lucius abducted me from the Transfiguration seminar . . . .’
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Legend of the Wolf