Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Savage Seduction	By : mad4moony Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Fenrir Views: 30148 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I do not make money from this. :(

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Savage Seduction

10

I was bowled out

I was sold down the river

And her warm heart

Would turn me forever

She's turned me round

A new flame has come

And nothing she can do

Can do me wrong

****

The witch stormed through the kitchen, as she reached the stairs she lost some of her momentum. She wasn’t that angry at him, it was only a facade. She just wanted him to not have his way, after he had snubbed her this morning. Hermione grumbled as she pushed the small bookcase in front of the bedroom door again, there would be no disturbances tonight.

****

The werewolf contemplated silently, in his usual spot in the garden. Why was his life one big cruel hurdle after another? The witch was vexing, but so tangible. Whenever she was near he had to touch her. At first, when he noticed it, he would restrain himself. Well to be honest when he first got hold of her he touched her a lot. But that was different, that was just him wanting sweet young womanly flesh.

No, this was different. After the urge to roughhouse with her had subsided, every touch of her skin was priceless. He wanted to touch it more often, and in a way he couldn’t describe. But he knew he wasn’t meant to, knew it wasn’t comfortable for her, for him to be this way. So he restrained himself.

But now, she was so receptive sometimes he couldn’t help himself. Like tonight, when she had bayed beside him, it made a knot in his chest. He needed to touch her, just needed to feel her beside him. But the witch hadn’t taken it so well. He had accidentally got carried away; he meant it to be more endearing than erotic – but his perception of emotions was something that still needed work.

The werewolf growled before getting to his feet. As much as it pained him to do this, as it does with any man, beast or not, he would have to apologise. He was still unsure of his own intentions in a way, so he would not delegate his feelings for her just yet. A simple sorry would have to do.

****

Hermione lay on the bed, arms crossed, and jaw set. She couldn’t figure out why she was so angry, but then she supposed it had surfaced from being so humiliated earlier this morning. What could she expect? She hardly expected the werewolf to say, “Oh yes it was absolutely mind-blowing. So amazing that if I can’t have you I’d go celibate!”

She snorted, imagining what Fenrir would be like if that was New Year’s Resolution. Below her, she heard the back door close and she left her thoughts to listen out for the werewolf. The movement was very faint; in fact she could not tell where he was. But as she strained to hear something the door handle turned slightly, before it opened she yelled vulgarly.

“Fuck off,” she barked, blushing slightly. Hermione seldom used such crude words. The rattling of the door handle stopped.

“Can’t I come in?” said a hushed voice from the other side of the door. The witch snarled, but a knot tightened in her stomach. It was too hard to argue with someone else when they weren’t arguing back.

After a few moments the door handle turned, and the door pushed against the bookcase. She heard a growl through the crack, and the werewolf called through to her. “Playing with my possessions again?” He added more snidely than before.

The witch snarled a retort, and ran to the door shoving it closed. He either wasn’t trying very hard, or wasn’t trying at all because the door remained closed, although she could faintly hear him breathing on the other side.

“Please,” he whispered agitatedly and she would not have heard him had she not pressed her ear against the door.

“Go away,” Hermione said calming herself down, placing a firm hand on the door as she felt him slide a shoulder against it.

“Fenrir go away,” she said through his whispered requests, as he pushed against the door. She assumed he must have had his back to it and was pushing half-heartedly because the door was not moving very much. The pressure finally eased off, but still both hands were firmly against the door, just in case.

After leaning in again to listen she was content that he had backed down, and she returned to the bed. She was sitting as silently as possible, she could hear faint movement from the landing, perhaps he was sitting down outside.

“I’m sorry,” he whined futilely before she heard him trudge down the stairs. An odd numbing sensation took over her body, she felt reprehensible. Was that all he had come up to say?

The witch rolled over, the room seeming much more vacant and forlorn than before. After what seemed like hours she curled up under the covers as sleep stung at her eyes, why did she feel so horribly guilty?

****

The next morning Hermione awoke with an awful headache. She felt her face and looked in the mirror as she paced by to the bathroom. Her eyes were puffy, and her cheeks were flushed with red. Strange, she hadn’t remembered crying.

The shower ran cold again before she had finished, bitterly she dried herself off. The witch looked at her filthy clothes that lay on the floor; surely there was something she could wear around here. She wrapped a towel around her and headed for the landing, perhaps she would try the other doors again.

There was no other movement in the house that she could hear from the landing outside the bedroom door. The morning sunshine poured in at the bottom of the stairwell from the large bay window she had admired on her first morning here. There were other windows too upstairs, but large faded purple drapes hung over them, and she had no intention of finding out what was nesting in them either.

The witch crept to the door she had tried before, but to no avail it was still locked. She decided to try on the smaller door beside the library, it had been previously locked too, but it was worth a shot. Her hand grasped the handle gently, and she gasped as it turned without a squeak.

She peered into the room, which seemed to be no bigger than the bathroom. The walls had shelves built in on one side, and a rail built on the other. It was a wardrobe, of sorts. She picked up a rather outdated jacket that lay on the floor and wondered if these were all Fenrir’s belongings or whoever had previously lived in the house.

She sifted through the rail of clothes, pulling out equally disastrous items of clothing, from lime green dress robes to a rather mouldy tweed waistcoat. Then she turned to the other side, and rummaged through the folded clothes on the shelves.

Ah, these were more than likely the werewolf’s. There was an array of dark coloured shirts, an old pair of jeans with the knees ripped out (Which she just had to laugh at as she imagined him in them), a pair of leather trousers that seemed familiar to her, and a very used looking leather belt. She let her towel drop to the floor and sniffed the nearest shirt wearily. It seemed clean...

****

A little while later the witch descended the stairs in search of food. She had adorned the ripped jeans, rolled up at the bottom, and a grey shirt which she had rolled up at the sleeves. The belt had been too big really, but without it the jeans would have become of no use. So they hung rather loosely on her, but it was the best she could do without being able to punch more holes in the belt.

The witch was feeling relatively good about herself today, which was a start, concerning last night. Her hair had been tied up roughly at the back of her head, and even looked intentionally tousled, considering her lack of a hairbrush.

The witch peered into the sitting room as she passed by; she could see the form of the werewolf crushed up against the far wall on the blanket. She raised a brow, what on earth was he doing? Sleeping obviously, but in such a way it looked painful, but almost dog-like in a way. She snorted quietly to herself and continued to the kitchen.

She grimaced as she remembered the Bran Flakes she had wasted the previous day, and searched in the pantry for something else to eat. Their groceries had been eaten now, and she daren’t ask to get more. But she remembered that the werewolf had slaughtered a cow and the remnants where in a cool box in a pantry.

Feeling awfully guilty, she searched for some small cuts of meat before whispering a ‘sorry’ in the cool boxes direction. Hmm, Steak for breakfast?

****

The werewolf yawned, stretching his arms out in front of him. His back had seized up from sleeping on the hard floor all night, but he hadn’t dared camp outside the bedroom, or worse - attempt to get in there while she slept.

He became vaguely aware of the sounds around him, and his noise twitched, and he began to salivate as he smelt food. As he sat up, rubbing his face with a rough hand, he heard hissing from the kitchen. The werewolf got to his feet, scratching his bare chest before staggering off in the direction of food.

The witch was leaning over the stove, frying something in a pan. He snarled quietly, it smelt good but whatever meat she was cooking she was ruining it ultimately. The vixen hadn’t spotted him yet, and he used the time to pore over her. She was wearing his clothes. It didn’t bother him in the slightest, although she really did look better in just his shirt.

Hermione hummed to herself as she fried up the steak, she had rooted around in the pantry and found two potatoes under the shelving - they had rolled out of the bag she had bought two weeks ago. As well as that there was a sprouting onion sitting on the windowsill, they would make a strange breakfast but Hermione was frugal and liked to use up what she had.

She sniffed, wiping a tear away from her face and she looked behind her and jumped. The werewolf was leaning against the doorframe, she didn’t say anything, just wiped another tear away.

“Onions,” she shrugged, as the werewolf cleared his throat and pointed a finger at her face. The witch didn’t want him to speak – didn’t even want to hear his voice after last night. It had been so different when he had apologised. Her cheeks burned with a strange sense of shame, she had been so horrible to him, and he didn’t deserve it.

She turned back to the stove, flipping the meat over successfully. The witch heard the werewolf move from his position and sit down at the table. She bustled around the kitchen in silence. He had been just about to talk when she set a plate down in front of him, and he stopped abruptly to look at his breakfast.

“Sliced potatoes, onions and steak pieces,” Hermione murmured, “It’s all we have actually.” She sat down across from him and dug into her breakfast, trying to avoid his gaze and any chances of conversation.

“Why are you giving me the cold shoulder?” he asked after five minutes of silence. The witch shifted in her seat, her fork rested in her hand.

“I’m not,” she said, lowering her eyes again. The werewolf pushed his plate away, surprising himself he had actually eaten what she had made for him. He leant back in his chair, and glared at her until she couldn’t take the weight of his eyes on her face any longer.

“What?” she accused, meeting his eyes. He smirked, and scratched behind his ear with his hand so savagely, Hermione squirmed. She had once seen Sirius do that, they both seemed to share an affinity with canine behaviour.

“Look Hermione, I said I was sorry, what more do you want? I got carried away – can’t you see how hard it is for me to be around you?” Hermione had resumed eating, but she paused again as he spoke, raising a brow as an answer.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m not exactly a favourite amongst witches am I? And now I’m here stuck with you all day, you’re young and attractive, and you just..have,” he was getting slower now, “You’re just so...womanly ARGH,” he finished slamming his head down on the table violently.

Hermione tried to stifle a laugh, her hand clutching her fork, over her mouth. He reminded her of a house elf punishing itself for having naughty thoughts.

“Am I honestly so alluring to you at twenty something years your minor?” The werewolf raised his head very slowly, sneering at her. She snorted and gathered up the plates. Well, the morning’s animosity had gone at least.

****

The werewolf had disappeared upstairs while Hermione had finished cleaning around the kitchen. She had just entered a day dream, whilst staring out the kitchen windows when he had stomped into the room and sat down in a chair, lifting one boot up against the table to tie his laces. She turned in disgrace, and was just about to scorn him for having shoes on the table when she realised after all, it was his house. So she went back to her happy mood.

“Can we go out for a walk today Fenny?” She said with a chirpy smile, looking back out the window. He gritted his teeth and growled.

“As long as you never call me that again,” he rasped, but he knew full well she was only teasing him. Well he was going out for a walk by himself anyway. He guessed it couldn’t hurt. The werewolf got up and disappeared into the hall, and the witch craned her neck to look round after him.

“Is that a yes?”

A few minutes later the werewolf came back, adorning his long coat, his wand in his hand. He ushered the witch out the back door, and she stepped into the garden obligingly. She had been dying to get outside for days now, but the weather had been rough and the werewolf too temperamental to ask.

She looked at the werewolf, and he shrugged, gesturing to the end of the garden. It was apparent that she was taking the lead.

****

After trudging through a few fields of overgrown grass, they came into some wider meadows. The werewolf was keeping to a few lengths behind her, and was definitely putting a gloomy outlook on the whole situation. The witch however felt happier than she had been in days, the warm breeze blew her hair across her face and she hummed to herself cheerfully whilst leading them on.

“Come on Fenrir, I thought you loved nature,” she yelled over her shoulder. He growled, but she didn’t hear it. She laughed and broke into a run, and the werewolf in a panic began to run after her fearing she was trying to escape. But the witch bounded into a skip, as her humming broke into lyrics and the werewolf stopped, seeing that she wasn’t trying to get away.

Suddenly the witch gasped, and stood still causing the werewolf to crash into the back of her. She clutched onto his arm before he could straighten up and she pulled him forward.

“Look it’s the sea!” The witch squealed, dragging the werewolf across the last few yards of green grass and down into the sand dunes. He growled, but her grip was unyielding and he had no real want for letting go. She jumped down a sand dune before he could and her arm slipped down his until only their fingers were grasping each other.

The sea was a dark teal colour, and looked very stormy. The beach was deserted, and its dirty grey sand was littered with broken shells and brown seaweed. The witch let go of his hand and trotted over to the tide, one hand flew up to her forehead to look out at the horizon.

The werewolf looked around warily for people, but the beach was deserted. He grimaced, sand wasn’t a favourite of his, but the witch had already pulled him down onto the beach. He watched her for some time as she skipped along the tide, picking up shells and tossing them into the sea. Something tightened in his chest; she seemed just like a child. How could he keep her here against her will?

He soon became aware that the witch had been calling to him, but he had been daydreaming. She was skipping stones, or attempting to anyway. She called again, and he went down to join her. Everything seemed blurry, and slow. The way she laughed, it seemed to last forever. She skipped another stone, and her cheers echoed inside his head.

Suddenly everything went normal again, as he hit something hard – the ground. He growled and looked up, the witch had pushed him over into the sea. She had called his name again and again, but he was in a daze, couldn’t hear, couldn’t think – so she had pushed him. She didn’t actually think he’d go down, his thoughts must have been elsewhere. He growled louder as her face froze in laughter, and he got up, the freezing water soaking through his clothes to his skin.

Without a second thought he scooped her up under her knees and back and threw her in further. She screeched, but burst out laughing as she resurfaced.

“That’s not fair, she spluttered, “It’s deeper here.” The witch waded out of the water, to where Fenrir stood shivering on the beach. She looked at his expression, and grinned, “What’s that Fenny, don’t like the water?”

The witch pulled at his arm attempting to drag him back in, but he had come to his senses and was much more aware of his bodily strength now. He growled at her.

“Don’t call me that,” he seethed trying to wrangle out of her grasp. She was laughing and dancing around him now, trying to confuse him and make him fall over. But it wasn’t working. The werewolf smirked and jerked her in the other direction and she stumbled falling backwards into the water pulling him with her. She coughed as he accidently pushed her under as he fell.

“You little rat,” she coughed, sitting up in the cold water. The werewolf had taken a step backwards and tripped in the sand, he was now flat on his back, but the witch lunged at him from the water and he scrambled from his feet barking with laughter as he ran up the beach and towards the sand dunes.

Hermione got to her feet, her wet clothes weighing her down as she trudged up the beach towards the werewolf. She was so close, but her hand couldn’t reach the end of his coat which flapped in the wind. When he reached the top of the sand dune he turned around to see where she was and she was closer than he expected.

The witch jumped on him and they both fell over the ridge of the dune and slid down the other side, her laughter carrying on the wind as she lay awkwardly on his chest.

****

A/N: ooh :3 This chapter has been split in half because I prefer shorter chapters to long ones (because you can remember what’s in ‘em better that way!) So this chapter and the next one to come are my favourite. OMG cannot wait to write next one! Hoped you liked this, lots of humour and ‘Aww’ bits...sorta... OMG I absolutely hate ‘Fenny’ isn’t that so horrible D: I swear she will never use it after this chapter. Same goes for ‘Mione, he will never ever ever call her that because I hate it :3 Anyways Enjoy & Review guys! I foresee ......Scrumping?!?! Mm sounds sexy..

*Lyrics - Simply Red, A new Flame.
- 9
- 10
- 11
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Savage Seduction