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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
- 19
- 20
- 21
Note: Wow, just want to thank you guys for that fast response yesterday. You don’t know how thrilled I am to receive all your lovely comments.

I’m flabbergasted schmo that you think this is the best Fenrir/Hermione fic (Well when I think there is only 3 others on here, and only one of them is finished I get less excited, but hey! ) It makes me so enthusiastic about writing!! I’m so glad you actually agree with me about Hermione – the whole way through writing this she has been the one thing reviewers are a bit miffed about. But I’m so glad you understand. Oh and I had already wrote most of the next chapter upon reading your review. It’s not maulerific, but er...well I’s kinda not sensual either...well it might arouse somebody I guess but er...well I think it went slightly more comical than sensual...er just read it and see :p

Marie: Thanks, it was so weird – Yesterday I read another fic with house elves in it, they are so similar it’s strange we all think house elves act and talk in the same way :)

Sonia: Thank you for your review and lovely email. I took into account all that you’d said and I think that she would be rather apprehensive when she saw him. But instead of being out-right scared I made it rather humorous in the sense that she tries to calm herself by talking out-loud. :) Anyway – read on you will see :)

Aoidragon: I’m sorry, no one wants a trip to the dentist. I know I know, I have read over the fic loads and it does get so sweet and stuff doesn’t it. It is so not what I set out for it to be. But I loving it so much, I just can’t pull myself for him to be a big meanie again. Although this next chapter has a little bit of eeeeeep in it, but if you are looking for darker stuff I’ll be writing some more fics after this one.

OMG guys, I have an exam in like 2 days. Why’d’ya have to make me want to write so close to it :P Why does my muse have to come back like right now!!! Why not next week when it’s all over!! Oh I spoil you :P You’re in for a treat – this chapter turned out really long too.

Savage Seduction

20

****

His arms wrapped around her, she was so tiny to him, but she meant everything. He loved the smell of her hair, and the touch of her skin. He looked down at her, unable to hide his smile. The witch looked up, curious to what he was smiling at.

“What? Do I look funny or something?” She said, fixing a strand of hair. The werewolf shook his head, and she reached up to kiss him. It was the best feeling he’d ever had. They were locked in a passionate embrace for some time, still in the kitchen, when unnoticed; the house-elf had appeared.

The little creature cleared his throat several times. But to no avail. Out of politeness (and awkwardness) he decided to leave – however the words of the fuming ginger witch rang in his head. “This is urgent, do not wait for anything!” He cleared his throat again, stepped forward and tugged on the back of Hermione’s sweater.

Hermione squealed, and turned on her heels. When she saw the house-elf, she blushed. Fenrir casually walked away to stoke the fire. Greybacks don’t show embarrassment. The witch bent down to the house-elf as he held out a letter. Behind him there was a squeak.

“Oh, Jinsy, thank you for this reply,” said Hermione trying to see what he was hiding. However Jinsy was not in fact hiding anything. But as he side-stepped out of the way, the thing behind him side-stepped too. “Is this...Is this Bobbin, Jinsy?” The house-elf nodded furiously.

“I beg your pardon Miss, she is being very rude.” Hermione could just about make out a smaller, skinnier house-elf in a tea-towel dress behind him.

“Thank you for the reply Jinsy, you may go and attend to Bobbin now.” The house-elf nodded and awkwardly side-stepped out of the room as his sister, who was clutching onto him with such fear, made it awkward for him to walk-straight.

The witch stood upright, and opened the letter. Ginny, was obviously in a state of anger as she wrote, because she had forgot to draw hearts above all the I’s and J’s like she usually did. Hermione smiled, remembering her best friend. It had been ages since she saw her. As she read on, she got more excited – Ginny wanted to see her. Here. Her friend was worried about her, no doubt, but she also understood for some time that this may happen, and that changing Hermione’s mind was not going to happen. She only wanted to know she was safe.

“What did she say?” said Fenrir gruffly.

“She wants to come here tomorrow, and speak to me.”

“No, she can’t. I don’t-” Hermione looked at him lividly.

“She.Is.Coming.Here.Tomorrow. OK?” Hermione raged, she would not be cut off from Ginny. “In any case, she said she already threatened Jinsy into telling her the fireplace address. She will be here tomorrow lunch time.”

The werewolf growled gutturally. He hated that little ginger witch, she was so...annoying. And he assumed she would have a personal vendetta against him for mauling her brother. He hadn’t forgotten about that.

“And...Harry is coming too,” the witch mumbled. The werewolf looked at her quizzically, “...Potter?”

“Not in my house. Not in my house!” The werewolf raged as he realised who she meant, storming his way across the kitchen, he tipped over a chair before leaving the room. Hermione laughed before following him.

“Oh it won’t be that bad. He just won’t let Ginny come on her own. They will only be here for maybe an hour.”

“I’ll kill them,” the werewolf huffed from the upstairs landing. Hermione looked up at his voice, and then proceeded up the stairs to find him.

“You better not. If you kill them Fenrir,” she said with a laugh, “I will not be very happy.”

“Well I’m not going to be very happy if they live.” She reached the landing, and saw the werewolf staring at the portraits at the end of the hall. She sidled up to him.

“Oh please,” she begged, looking up to him with caramel eyes. He stared at her for awhile, but she was giving him the puppy eyes.

“Fine, but don’t expect me to be around. And they must be gone by late afternoon. You know what tomorrow is.” The witch nodded, tracing her hands over his biceps.

“You are really tense. You need to relax.” The werewolf sighed before breaking away from her and heading for a door on her left.

“Try being a werewolf.”

The witch followed him through the door. Inside was an amazing bedroom suite, with cream and lemon colours. A huge four poster bed was in the middle, with a door to the right which she assumed was probably an en suite.

“Wow, you have good taste,” said the witch, pulling off her sweater to reveal a blue and white pinstriped shirt. The werewolf smirked, before going into the bathroom.

“I hate it,” he stated, “I’d much prefer a cave.” Hermione smirked, though she didn’t know if he was joking about the cave part. He came back out rubbing a towel across his cheek. “Well I’m glad you like it anyhow.”

“I feel really rich,” she giggled looking around all the ornate furniture. She then went in to scope out the bathroom. “Why does anyone need a bath that big? You could fit 6 people in it.”

“It’s not that big,” called Fenrir from the bedroom. “I think you’re over exaggerating. It would at most fit 3 people very snugly.”

“We’re not having a threesome Fenrir,” said Hermione peering into the huge mirror as she checked her appearance.

“That’s not what I... what do you use baths for?” He appeared at the door inquisitively. Hermione was staring at the shower attachment over the bath. She couldn’t help but remember what Fenrir had done to her once in the shower. Granted, he seemed a completely different person from back then but it made a shiver ripple up her spine.

She looked back at the mirror to see the werewolf standing behind her, watching her rapturously in the reflection. Their eyes did not meet, and she couldn’t help but stare at him, as he was doing to her. He had taken his coat off, and his shirt was loosely hung on his body. As she stared all her memories began to come back to her. Before she knew it the werewolf had wrapped his arms around her middle.

“Fenrir,” she said curiously savouring how good it felt to have him touch her, but he did not answer or even look at her. The grip on her tightened slightly, although he withdrew one hand. Oddly, the witch just glanced back to the mirror. Well he hadn’t seen her for a long time, a good embrace was expected. But after some time, the grip he was holding her with didn’t slacken. His other hand, which was on one of her hips was pressed against her so fiercely it hurt.

“Fenrir,” she said with a slight mischievousness, what was he playing at? He didn’t answer again and she began to panic, what was wrong with him? She listened to his breathing, he was growling ever so faintly, and his eyes were closed.

The witch closed her eyes; it was nice again to feel his arms around her. He was so strong and it turned her on but there was just something – something was worrying her. As she opened her eyes she realised he had begun to push her against the sink, so much so that it began to hurt her stomach as it pressed against the hard stone.

“Fenrir,” she said her voice a little shaky, but with more direction. He growled louder this time in acknowledgement. He kissed her neck, and her skin tingled. She watched in the mirror as his hand trailed over her chest, his fingers enclosed in the fabric. It was only then he opened his eyes, he stared at her in their reflection before ripping open her shirt. The buttons flew into the sink, as the witch gasped.

Any other time she probably would have been slightly aroused. But not now. His eyes looked so different, they scared her. She stood there, half naked – his other hand had slid up to her head, holding it back so she would look. She felt like a puppet, and she couldn’t take her eyes of his eyes. Instead of the bottomless ocean she usually looked into they were colder, and solid.

“Fenrir stop it,” she shouted suddenly, as he ran his other hand down her back, it arched with pleasure but it sure as hell wasn’t how she was really feeling. “Fenrir,” she croaked, but he was ignoring her again. She tried to turn around and face him, but as soon as she did he pushed her against the sink harder. She shut her eyes out of fear, and heard him growl beside her. What was she going to do? He seemed possessed. She could still feel him caressing her, and it was beginning to sicken her. This wasn’t the man she knew.

“Fenrir, please stop it,” she pleaded, but nothing happened. She opened her eyes again, to see him still eerily watching her. Panic. What was she going to do? She had to do something. Instantly she seemed to have formulated some kind of plan. One she often used; trickery.

She smirked in the mirror, and raised a hand to stroke the werewolf’s face as he caressed her. Operation by reflection was harder than it looked. But he seemed to be buying it. She smiled smugly in the mirror, arching her back a bit every time he moved over her breasts. She could see he was getting more excited so decided he might have given her a little more leeway. She turned around to face him, and this time was not apprehended. He smirked at her, as she reached up to kiss him, but suddenly she aimed a knee at his groin and the werewolf went down easier than she thought.

The witch immediately ran into the bedroom. But although she had just run away from fear, she felt she couldn’t leave. She was adamant the man had changed; this was just some weird thing that was happening to him. She couldn’t leave just outright, she wanted to know why he had become so strange. Instead she curled herself up in a window seat; it looked as if the werewolf had no intentions of coming after her because he was still in the bathroom.

After awhile, the witch began to get worried. What if she had kicked him into a coma? Wait, was that even possible? Hermione decided to approach him, it wasn’t like him to just sit and take abuse. She approached the bathroom door; it was still open so she only had to push it further. The shower was on, faintly. And the werewolf was in the bath, sort of. He was fully clothed, and only half laying in the bath, under the cascading water, his legs hung out the other side. It looked painful to sit in that position but he didn’t seem remotely bothered.

“Fenrir,” she said softly, approaching him. He looked up at her, water running onto his head, he was soaked pretty much head to toe. Without a word the witch kneeled down beside the bath. “It’s the cycle isn’t it?” The werewolf nodded, closing his eyes tiredly.

“I’m sorry,” he said faintly.

“No, no it’s my fault,” stated the witch, shaking her hair from side to side.

“How is this, your fault? You always take the blame for everything. I don’t even know how this could remotely be your fault-” The witch shrugged, leaning over to turn the shower off. The werewolf growled but she ignored him.

“Get out,” she stated, holding out a hand for him, but he only sighed and pulled himself up. “You scared me,” she said quietly. The werewolf heaved another sigh.

“I knew you should have gone. This was such a bad idea.” The witch scowled, since when did Fenrir care so much about things. She shook him as hard as she could, which wasn’t very hard at all considering his stature in relation to hers.

“Shut up, ok? We already talked about this. I want to be with you. I don’t exactly know why – but I do. I know what you did to me will never leave me, but I am trying to get over it - Don’t know why, everybody else thinks I’m crazy. But when you do stuff like that it scares me – it just reminds me of what happened. And I-”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry for everything. I just-”

“Can we just shut up, this is getting weird? I don’t like it when you go all soft,” the witch smiled, tugging at his arm. “Come on let’s just do something else, as long as you promise any of that crazy stuff doesn’t happen again?” The werewolf smirked, following her into the bedroom.

“I really want to, but I can’t guarantee it. It’s just the way I am. The moon has control over me at the minute, I really can’t say it won’t happen again. And now I’m afraid what will happen to you tomorrow.”

“Stop saying you’re afraid. Fenrir Greyback is not afraid,” the witch looked at him sternly. “If you’re worried something will happen because you won’t know me, can’t you just show me now?” The witch looked at Fenrir; it had always been something she’d been meaning to ask. She wrapped her shirt over her chest, but without buttons it wasn’t very useful.

“You mean, you want me to...”

“Yes, come on. I know you won’t hurt me if it’s not full moon. You said that ages ago. You said you would only go crazy on full moon. You’re meant to be the best werewolf there is, you’re one of the only ones that can truly control who you are.”

The werewolf turned away from her, undecided. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Hermione mocked in a gruff voice. “Who the hell is that? When did Fenrir care so much? When did he stop doing crazy shit just because? Come on Fenrir, just show me. Why did you stop being you? Why did you stop doing all those crazy things that made me fall in lov-“

The werewolf turned to face her immediately, and Hermione had already but her hand over her mouth. “AH-HA!” he exclaimed. “You lo-”

“No I don’t. I mean no I didn’t say that.”

“Yes you did,” the werewolf stepped closer, so that they were only a foot apart. “You just said it. I knew you did you little liar.”

“No I really didn’t,” said the witch matter-of-factly, one hand on her hip. The werewolf looked at her coyly. He took a step forward and the witch jumped out of the way. He growled mischievously before lunging towards her again. This time he was successful. “Argh get off,” the witch squealed. She managed to wriggle across the bed, out of his grasp – sort of. “Stop humping my leg!”

“I am not, I’m just trying to -” But the witch was already out of his grasp. He gave up, and the witch pouted from the other side of the bed.

“Please show me,” she said. The werewolf buried his face in the bed covers.

“Ugh, no,” he moaned, but the witch was not taking no for an answer.

“Oh please, please.” She scooted closer to him. “You know, if you ever want us to grow old together and all, I’ll have to get used to you sometime. And what better way then when you’re not bloodthirsty on a full moon?” The werewolf sighed.

“Is it really that important to you?” The witch nodded, losing all playfulness.

“Yes, I feel like I just need to adjust. Please do it.”

“Fine. But I’m warning you. Remember what I told you about werewolves before?”

“That you have the IQ of a dog?” The werewolf gave her an insipid stare. “Ok, I’m ready.”

The werewolf sighed, was he doing the right thing? I guess it couldn’t hurt, well...He got off the bed and moved to the other side of the room. “Ok close your eyes.”

“I’m not closing them! I want to see it.”

“But it’s horrible,” he looked at the witch who was obviously not backing down. “Fine.”

He turned away from her, and ran a hand over his face; Hermione had already got a pillow in front of her, just in case it really was horrible. She had seen the transformation before, well half-way, but then Fenrir had been struggling to contain it – so it might not be so violent this time. She could already hear him growling, he was crouching, and it did look rather painful.

His arms flew up as if something was on his back, he grabbed at his shirt, pulling it over his head. Hermione gasped the muscles were practically ripping through his skin, in fact they were in a sense. She nearly gagged, he was actually ripping off the skin on his back, and thick greyish/black fur was underneath. He was tearing away like it was just clothes it was horrible, she hid behind the pillow.

His face contorted, as his jaw unhinged itself, before reforming into a different shape, a long black snout appeared and the snarls became more wolfish than any she had heard before. He bent down again on all fours, it looked as if his legs were dislocating themselves, they contorted before arranging themselves differently so that they looked like back feet of a wolf. The last of the skin was shed and thick fur grew from beneath it. The growling stopped, and she peered from behind the pillow.

In a heap on the floor, lay a huge black beast. It heaved with every snuffly breath it took. It was curled up facing away from the witch. She kneeled close to the end of the bed, looking at it. It was black all over except for its upper back where a streak of hair had turned a faded grey in the light.

“Fenrir,” she said softly. The werewolf growled slightly, but stayed where it was. She moved slightly and suddenly the beast did too. It turned to face her and she squealed. It had the same wolfish head she had seen looming out of the forest on the night of her capture. It turned its head to the side, curiously watching her.

“Dogs smell fear, dogs smell fear Hermione,” she whispered to herself. The werewolf stood up, it still had to stoop because the ceilings were not high enough. Its muscles rippled underneath the matted fur. “Oh, Oh no. This is bad,” exclaimed the witch, as she scooted up the bed more. It took another step forward towards her, drool dripping from its jaws.

“Ew, Oh man, oh, I can’t stop looking at your junk, oh I’m sorry...oh,” she squealed as it climbed onto the bed. “Why can’t you wear a loincloth like in cartoons, that is so distracting,” she humoured herself – trying to mask her fear at Fenrir who was now towering over her at the end of the bed.

The werewolf was on all fours, as it got closer she could see its nostrils flare, and its ears twitch with her squeaks and squeals. It brought its snout closer to her, sniffing her legs warily. “Ewww, eww no don’t do that,” she squealed as it licked her knee inquisitively. The beast seemed to settle down and stare at her for awhile, and because she was trying not to look at it waist down, she got intrigued by his hands. They were very human-like, although the claws looked rather sinister. She was also rather amused that it had nipples, and a human torso.

She didn’t know why, but she had such a notion to touch him. She sat forward, and the beast’s nostrils flared inquisitively. She put a hand towards him, but retracted it as the werewolf moved his muzzle towards it. Suddenly the beast sat up and moved towards the witch. She gave a squeal and it moved so close she was practically bending over backwards to get away from it.

Drool dripped down onto her bare stomach, as her shirt had come apart with moving. “Eww,” she exclaimed. The beast was just standing over her, it kept eye contact at all times and she found it rather strange. She didn’t feel so scared, but it was rather uncomfortable. The drool was really starting to annoy her, so bravely she put up her hand and pushed its muzzle away from her. The beast whined a little, and turned to licking her hand.

“No, no don’t do that...eww.” She wiped the slavers on the bed sheets. It began sniffing all around her, by the time it got to her feet, which she didn’t like having touched she shrieked. “No don’t touch my feet Fenrir, you know i’m tickly.”

However the werewolf ignored her, to him it was just like “Noise - something that he had learned was a call for him – noise.” The witch kicked away from him as his muzzle touched her foot and as soon as she did it opened its massive jaws. She shuddered pulling away but as he bit down on air it snagged her sock and as she pulled away, the sock came off with ease. The witch stared at the beast for a moment as it chewed on the sock.

“Oh that’s gross Fenrir,” but still it paid no attention to her and continued chewing on the now wet sock. She looked at the placid beast for awhile. He wasn’t so scary-looking. Not knowing what he was really like, and seeing him chew the sock like a happy puppy. Perhaps he’d like a belly-rub – NO! That is not an option. After about a half hour or so of talking drabble to the animal, the witch glanced out the window, it was nightfall. She was really tired, hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in ages, and probably wouldn’t considering there was a giant wolf sitting on her feet. She jabbed it with a foot, and it growled slightly, but let go of her leg that it had been holding. The witch climbed into the bedcovers warily. She wasn’t so sure going to sleep was a good thing to do, but considering how mundane the night had actually been with the beast around she didn’t think anything would happen. The werewolf lay its head down on her legs again once she was under the covers and the witch had a sudden urge to just pet it. The fur on its head was softer than the rest of its body, and its ears felt amazingly soft. It issued a satisfied growl, as Hermione ran a hand along its back until it reached his tail.

“Wow, I love your tail Fenrir,” said Hermione blissfully, twirling it around with her hand. It was shorter than an average dog tail, but so cute and soft. “You know what, you’re so docile, I bet I could totally put a dress on you and you wouldn’t even care.”

The werewolf growled, and the witch stopped stroking his tail. “You understood that – You can understand me!” She moved to look at the beast’s head which was turned away. It looked up at her with ‘sad dog’ eyes and dug its muzzle into the covers. “Fenrir! You’ve been able to understand everything I’ve said all night!? You get back here right now!” The werewolf had lunged off the bed, and dashed out of the room.

The witch ran after it, looking around the hallway. She hadn’t seen the rest of the house yet, and didn’t know where to look. “GRR where are you Fenrir?” She shrieked. As cool as a cucumber Fenrir appeared from the shadows at the end of the hall, in human-form dressed in a pair of black formal trousers and a belt that glinted in the light. He leant against the wall, crossing his arms coyly.

“Well now I know all your secrets,” he said with a smirk that nothing could wipe off his face. The witch said nothing, raising her chin in the air trying so hard not to care. The werewolf approached her; he was on the verge of laughing in a smug kind of way.

“Oh Miss Granger, who knew your dirty little thoughts. You should be lucky I’m not going to tell anybody your views on Bestiality.” The witch blushed, she had only been musing.

“I thought you couldn’t understand me, I thought you said...” she trailed off as he put his arms around her waist.

“Very low attention span, I can understand if I can concentrate on listening. But if there’s anything more exciting going on it just turns into...drabble. But now I know hey,” he smirked kissing her although she tried to evade.

“What are you so smug about? Doesn’t mean I actually want to...I was just saying” she looked away trying to avoid his gaze.

“Made me laugh, actually made me...Well,” he said looking away smugly, “I’m just glad you didn’t notice the colossal erection I was trying to hide.”

“Ew,” she squealed pushing him away, but he held onto her, and brought his face so close to hers their noses touched.

“Hermione,” he savoured, “You turn me on in so many ways...” The witch blushed and was thankful that the werewolf engaged her in a kiss so she could take her mind off things. It only took a few moments of his hands running over her body to forget what had just happened. His tongue was so divine...When did they get up against the wall? And oh merlin, did his hands feel good, it made the witch’s legs go like jelly, even though she wasn’t using them for standing because they were already wrapped around the werewolf’s waist.

“Fenrir, bedroom,” said the witch gasping for air. The werewolf murmured something in agreement but was too engrossed in kissing her to do anything. He was running his hand down her back, under her shirt and the witch gasped as a shiver of delight ran up her spine. “Fenrir,” she pleaded.

“I’m savouring,” he hissed gently, kissing down her neck. The witch was so aroused she was furious.

“Why? It’s not like you’re going away. We can do it in the morning, and then after breakfast and then before lunch if you want. Just ...guhhhh” She could barely finish the sentence she was so angry, in a horny female kind of way.

“Ok,” said Fenrir, convinced. Within less than 10 seconds they had made it to the bedroom, still entangled in some sort of frenzied tonsil tennis match. The werewolf climbed onto the bed, still holding the witch up until she was practically lying down anyway. Suddenly the witch stopped kissing him, holding a hand against his chest to prevent him from reaching down again.

“Do you remember that time in your room,” she purred.

“I don’t know, we were in that room a lot. What ‘time’ do you mean,” he said hurriedly.

“You know,” she said tracing a toe along his leg. He shook his head.

“Nope, you’re really going to have to give me more on that.” The witch giggled furiously, and blushed at the same time as if wildly ashamed of something. She leant forward and whispered into the werewolf’s ear.

“I can do that,” he said before hoisting the witch up and putting her back down in the centre of the bed, he lay down beside her. “You are getting naked first though.”

****

A/N:

Like, wow, I am rusty with the lemons. Just a heads up. I kept wanting to write face-sucking because I could think of no other word for it but that’s not sensual now is it? Damn, really gona have to keep writing them to get into the swing of it again. I just couldn’t seem to write them right now, not when I can hear my relatives bickering downstairs and stuff. It’s weird. Anyway I really just wanted to get this chapter out for all of you eager readers so It will be in the next chapter.
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Savage Seduction