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The Girl Amongst The Wolves	By : albamezzora Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Fenrir Views: 27847 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER NOR DO I MAKE ANY PROFIT FROM THIS OR ANY STORY I PUBLISH ON THIS OR ANY OTHER WEBSITE

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER!!

The Girl Amongst The Wolves

Chapter 14

Awaking in a strange bed was something Hermione had never liked, for obvious reasons. Awaking with a thumping headache, however, and not knowing where you are, who you’re with - or if you are even with anyone - makes the situation a whole lot worse. Like her previous awakening, she heard faint voices, though they seemed more familiar, though less clear, than the voices she had heard before. There was something about a bath, food and fresh ‘old’ clothes. Hermione tried to understand them but that only made her headache worse. She groaned from the pain and the voices silenced immediately.

“Leave.” A man commanded; Hermione immediately recognized this as Fenrir. But why wasn’t she angry, or scared, or worried about being alone with him? Instead, she felt a small bubble of joy swell up in her stomach. She opened her eyes, thankful for the dim lighting cast by the fire. She turned her heavy head to the side and saw Fenrir closing a wooden door. She looked around the room and saw that it wasn’t a hut or a cave as she had expected, but a large lavish room with elegant and expensive décor. The main colours were dark green and black, with dark brown antique furniture. She shuffled up the bed, leaning against the propped up pillows.

Fenrir turned and they simply stared at each other for a few moments whilst they took in each other’s appearances. Hermione was upset that the handsome Were she had once known had now become almost monster-like. His smooth shoulder length hair that was once neat and clean was now dirty and scraggly. His skin that used to be gently chiselled to perfection was now weathered and dirty. His once clean fingernails were yellow and had dirt underneath them. All in all, he was a mess.

Hermione, on the other hand, had never looked more beautiful in Fenrir’s eyes. Two years apart had made him realise just how wonderful his little mate was. She was still a little short, with womanly curves that were perfect for bearing him strong and healthy children. Her skin was creamy and smooth, almost teasing him with its silkiness. She had cut her hair a little; it was just past shoulder-length instead of down her back. Her nose and cheeks were dotted with adorable freckles that he had once loved to count as she slept beside him. And her eyes were as gorgeous as ever – chestnut brown with streaks of amber in them, even when her wolf wasn’t prominent in her mind. He couldn’t resist her, and he knew that he would never be able to.

She climbed out of the bed while he rushed over to it, sweeping her up into his arms as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He inhaled her smell deeply, its chocolaty sweetness almost burning into his brain, a smell he vowed never to forget and always to savour. He pushed past the faint smell of Remus Lupin’s claim on her, knowing that was easily sorted later.

“At last.” He sighed into her hair. He held her tightly, squeezing her to his body, swearing to never let her go.

!”!

They lay on the bed together, wrapped up in each other’s arms. Hermione had her head tucked under Fenrir’s chin, her leg sandwiched between his. Every so often he would smell her hair and fresh tears of joy would form in his eyes. He couldn’t believe that she was really there with him. For two years he had dreamed of her every night, craving the feel of her in his arms, as she was then. It was too perfect. He was sure he was dreaming.

“Hermione?” She hummed in response, flexing her fingers on his back to show she was listening. “How do I know that this isn’t a dream?”

She was taken aback by the unusualness of the question. “Maybe it is a dream.”

Out of nowhere, he growled and rolled over on top of her, pinning her arms down on the bed and bringing his face close to hers. “Do not tease me, girl! For two years I thought only of you; you have no idea how much pain I went through, knowing that you were out there and that you were growing up and that you didn’t remember me, or that if you did; that it would be of a world where I was cruel to you and that you didn’t know how much you meant to me!” He hissed, truly frightening her with his sudden aggression. She knew then that being imprisoned in Azkaban, away from his mate, had unhinged him to the point of mood-swings and aggression. She had to calm him immediately, or he would think that it was only a dream and Merlin-only-knows what he might do if he thought there was a chance that she wasn’t real.

“Fenrir, listen to me very carefully,” She hushed gently, “You are not dreaming. This can’t be a dream. Because I have only ever had nightmares about you, so why would I dream of you so sweetly if I thought that you were nothing more than a kidnapper? You are awake and you are here and I am here, with you. You are not dreaming, Fenrir.” She lifted her head a little and placed a gentle kiss on his lips, hoping that it would do more good than harm. He growled softly, this time from happiness and arousal. He pressed his lips to hers more firmly, forcing her to submit to him as he nipped her bottom lip. She gasped, her mouth opening and giving him the chance to sneak his tongue into her mouth. He let go of her wrists, cupping her cheek with one hand and her hip with another. She held his face in her hands and moaned gently, happy to finally be with him again.

He confused her again by growling and pulling away from her as if she were a leper. She sat up as he paced the floor, mumbling to himself.

“Fenrir?”

“I can’t. I can’t do that with you again; my instincts…” She understood; they had been separated for so long and now his primal urges for calling for him to mate with her.

“Of course.”

“No, no, not until she’s seventeen…” He was whispering conspiratorially to himself, almost as if he were talking to another person. “When is she seventeen? I don’t know…Sometime soon, maybe…Yes, maybe, sometime soon…”

“Fenrir.” She said softly. She stood up and walked over to him, drawing his attention to her. She reached up and cupped his cheeks. “It’s okay. I know that we can’t mate until I’m seventeen, and that’s okay. It’s going to be alright. I’m seventeen in a few weeks. It’s not that far away. It’ll be fine.” She shushed him gently, almost surprised by how he nodded solemnly, reassured by her sweet whisperings. She led him back to the bed and laid him down, joining him. They cuddled up together again and fell asleep, with him stroking her hair and her telling him that everything was going to be alright.
- 14
- 15
- 16
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The Girl Amongst The Wolves