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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
- 21
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18 Feb - Bulletin - Hey guys. It's half term so I'm hoping to wrap this up by the end of the week :) Only about 2 or 3 chapters to go. Sorry I have been so slow. Lot's to do. I don't want to let you all down, I feel terribly guilty every time I get a review so I'm update asap.

Thanks for waiting, and for all the reviews, they mean so much to me. You may not have read chapter 21 yet if you just surfed in from AFF.net as I uploaded two chapters at a time. Please check it out.

Savage Seduction

22

A diamond with a flaw is worth more than a pebble without imperfections.

~~~

Hermione sat stirring her tea in the dining room. She was dressed plainly, and wasn’t wearing any makeup. Her eyes were dark from lack of sleep, Jinsy had put her to bed when they had come inside earlier that morning, but she had only slept for a few hours before getting up. The first thing she had done that morning was look outside for the werewolf, but he was not on the grass where Bobbin had left him, which was now shredded and thrown around.

The tea tasted sour in her mouth, and the crumpets tasted dry and uninviting. She had been so shocked last night by the house elves she had barely realised what had happened. In a daze they cleaned her up without asking or embarrassing her about any of the night’s events. How Bobbin new that was Fenrir was a mystery.

The door opened from the kitchen and the witch looked up. Bedraggled, and seriously dirty and ragged was Fenrir standing in the door way. His shirt was in pieces, his trousers slashed and ripped on both sides. He was in bare feet, and his coat had an arm ripped off. He had dried mud caked to one side of him, and several bloody gashes on his face. He didn’t say anything, just stepped into the room and collapsed into a chair.

Hermione looked him over quietly, he looked stressed. The lines at the side of his mouth and forehead were furrowed, the muscles in his jaw and throat stood out, as if overworked; his hair was a mess, and his lip was cut savagely.

“Tell me what happened, I know you went out,” he said solemnly, not looking her in the eye. Could he not remember? The witch went to reply but the werewolf cut her off, his voice trembling with anger, “I told you not to go outside, I told you.” The witch looked at him, his best attempt at withholding his anger yet. She burst into tears.

The werewolf sat up, and bent over the table, his voice was trembling, she thought it sounded, for she couldn’t see through her own tears that he was trying not to cry. “I could have killed you. Don’t you understand that?” He left his chair and approached hers, taking her hands from her face. He knelt beside her on one knee, “I could have killed you,” he repeated. The witch sobbed loudly.

“I know...” she choked, “I’m sorry. I had a good reason.”

“Was it good enough to risk your own life?” he said earnestly, looking at her watery eyes.

“You didn’t try to kill me. I don’t think. That’s not what it...you wanted,” she gave another sob. The witch had thought about it all morning – she wasn’t scared by what happened. She knew it wasn’t really him, her Fenrir that was doing it. She didn’t hold it against him – but telling him what he had done was harder to do than she thought.

The werewolf pulled her from her chair, and she curled up in his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. She sobbed slightly, not really knowing why she couldn’t stop.

“You stink,” she said, hiccupping. The werewolf smiled, as he let his fingers run through her hair.

“You don’t want to know where I woke up this morning,” The witch hiccupped again and looked at him.

“I don’t know how I got there, and I don’t know where my shoes went, but I woke up nearly drowning on a river bank cuddling a pig carcass.” The witch grimaced, struggling to suddenly break free from his grasp. He pulled her closer. “No, we are going to hug it out,” he smirked and she wrinkled her nose but felt comfort in his arms no matter how horribly he may have smelled.

“You tried to have sex with me,” she said placidly. The werewolf stiffened. “It’s ok, I forgive you. Bobbin called you a naughty puppy,” she laughed quietly. The werewolf tried to smile, but couldn’t hide the apprehension he was suddenly feeling.

~~~

The witch lay on the bed, twiddling her thumbs and staring up at the embroidery that draped across the roof of the four poster bed. The lamp beside her let out a soft orange glow, but the room was dark still and cold. Yellow light cut across the floor in a strip from the gap in the bathroom door. The werewolf silently glowered in the tub.

“Fenrir, are you ok?” she called softly. The werewolf rested his head against the wall behind the bath; his hair was wet as if he had submerged himself for a time. His eyes were closed, his brow furrowed; he was exhausted and frustrated – the usual symptoms of the meltdown after a full moon. He growled so loud Hermione could hear it clearly from where she lay.

He had been in there for an hour. She had put her bathrobe on a half hour ago, thinking it would be her turn soon but she wasn’t going to rush him. She could only guess what kind of state he was in. After all he had tried to rape her while transformed, and didn’t know about it until this morning. Well, she thought, not rape but...what was the right term for it? Was his transformed state able to comprehend the fact that they were lovers, or was it merely that the opportunity presented itself? She shook her head, in actual fact she was alright with it. She came out unscathed from that situation thanks to Bobbin. So there was no discomfort between her and the werewolf. But he had taken to sulking; perhaps that is what he was just used to doing. Did he forget that now she was around he could just be comforted by her?

“You’re not drowned are you?” She spoke up softly, sitting up from the bed and dangling her feet off the side.

“No,” replied the werewolf emotionlessly.

“You’re going to use up all the hot water,” she said, trying to keep the conversation up. The witch was now shuffling around the room in circles, waiting for him. The werewolf did not reply. “Fenrir,” she said...

“Yes,” he called rather dejectedly, she heard the sound of ripples of water, but heard no attempt of him getting out. She paused, not having anything to say. The witch so badly wanted to comfort him, but how could she? She had no idea what this was like for him.

“Can I come in?” The witch replied after a pause, the werewolf gave no answer but she approached the door anyway. The werewolf had his eyes closed, he was leaning his head back to rest against the wall, and he rested his arms on the sides of the bath, both were scored with cuts and gashes from the escapades of the full moon. The mirror was steamed up too much to see her expression as she walked in, but she was feeling apprehensive. She knelt beside the tub and placed a hand on his wet arm.

“Fenrir,” she said softly again, and he opened his eyes to look at her. The deep cobalt seemed to swirl before her, like a whirlpool that drew her in. They were so meaningful; a lump grew in her throat as if she could feel what he felt. The werewolf exhaled with a painful growl.

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” he said his voice wavering slightly.

“See you like what?” She said still cheerful, as if there wasn’t a problem at all.

“I don’t want you to see me, like, - I can’t believe I did that to you, I could have killed you. You shouldn’t have – I shouldn’t have been around here. You could have been really hurt. I knew this was a bad idea , I –“ The witch put a finger up to his lips.

“Shut it,” she said matter-of-factly. “I don’t care ok, we both took the risk. It was my fault. You told me not to go outside, you told me. It was stupid of me to go, it was my own risk. I understand you could have hurt me, but understand this, I know you won’t intentionally do anything bad to me, and I know you didn’t intentionally do that last night!”

The werewolf looked at her, and tried to smile but couldn’t. The witch sighed, “You just need to chill out, you are stressing over nothing. I know you’re not used to having someone else to care about but now you’re going overboard! Stop caring so damn much about what I think of you. You are so special to me; you need to stop berating yourself!”

“How can I? I’m hardly perfect!”

“I don’t want you to be perfect; a diamond with a flaw is worth more than a pebble without imperfections. You’re not a pebble,” said Hermione emotionally. The werewolf smiled.

“Well I’m glad you’re not labelling me a pebble,” he said dryly. The witch bared her teeth playfully, and splashed water at the werewolf.

There was silence for a few minutes. Hermione looked back up to the werewolf from the end of her bathrobe she was playing with. He had closed his eyes again and had stopped smiling. She sighed and stood up. The werewolf opened an eye as he heard the witch leave, but she wasn’t leaving. Instead she untied her robe, letting it fall on the floor. The glow from the overhead light made her skin turn a creamy white. She put a foot in the bath, and the werewolf looked up at her in silence, as she awkwardly climbed in, the hair on his neck stood up. She did make a reference to baths and sex once didn’t she? She was so weird; he’d never heard of bath-sex before.

All of his thoughts melted away when the witch turned her gaze to him. “Cheer up Fenrir,” she said before turning around and lying down against his chest. She reached to grab his arm and wrap it around her. The witch exhaled happily, and the werewolf was silent. “I love you, you know,” she said quietly. Something tightened in Fenrir’s chest, he couldn’t say anything.

“Do you say that to all the guy’s you get in the bath with?” he said sardonically. The witch elbowed him in the stomach, and he laughed before burying his nose in her hair. Strawberries.

“I think I love you too,” he said a smile, at last settling on his face.

“You think?” said the witch casually, turning her head to look at him.

“Well I don’t really know what it’s like,” he mumbled. The witch turned and kissed him on the cheek before laying her head in the crook of his neck, and reaching for his arm again. They lay there for awhile, before the witch sighed.

“It’s like this,” she smiled. He smiled back, running a finger over her forearm, and knew what she meant.

“The water is getting cold,” the witch mumbled sitting up, after they had lay arm in arm for awhile.

“Make it hotter,” said Fenrir, matter-of-factly. He pointed to his wand which lay on the corner of the bath. The witch tried reaching it with her foot but to no avail. She lunged towards it, knocking a rubber duck into the bath, she picked up the wand – it was long and dark, the handle was plain. She gestured for Fenrir to take it but he nodded towards her. She grasped the wand in her own wand hand, and gestured towards the water.

“Ow,” she yelped as the wand appeared to shock her, it landed in the water and continued to float on the surface. “What the, ugh,” the witch moaned trying to shake off the tingling feeling. The werewolf gave a hearty laugh. “Ugh, it feels as if someone has peed in here.”

He grimaced slightly before grabbing the wand that was floating closer to him, and fixed the temperature of the water. “We should get out soon, I’m getting wrinkly,” he laughed looking at his fingertips. The witch pouted splashing at the rubber duck, still at the other end of the bath. She moved closer, until she was sitting on his calves, her feet touching his.

“Well I guess you’re cheered up sufficiently,” she said with another pout. Instead of waiting for a reply, she ran her hands along his legs, and sat up straight. Now the waterline was just below her breasts as they emerged from the water. The werewolf held her gaze, but she could see the way his mouth twisted slightly, and knew he was taking it all in.

After a few seconds of watching each other the werewolf broke into a smirk. He leant forward and pulled Hermione closer, “I can’t believe we’ve been together for over 2 days and haven’t even had sex yet.” The witch rubbed her nose against his, watching his fathomless eyes settle on her face.

“Well...”

“It didn’t count,” he said cutting her off. He kissed her chin, and she wrinkled her nose.

“Love doesn’t have to be physical, Fenrir. Although I guess I’m sure it helps.” The witch thought about it. She had been ready to do anything the other day, but then of course he had apologised and that had completely set her off guard. The mood turned indifferent, and there was no urge to have sex with him just then.

The werewolf began to kiss her neck, his hands sat firmly on her hips. “I know it doesn’t. You must be special, look how long I’ve waited – I don’t know how-”

“You would have had me at breakfast yesterday if you could’ve,” said the witch catching a strand of his hair in her fingertips.

“Could’ve? I can. I can have you whenever I want,” smirked the werewolf who snapped playfully at her hand as it veered closer to his face.

“Fenrir, don’t sound so patriarchal! And if you could, why didn’t you?” She said sitting up straight.

“It’s better to have your consent surely?”

“Well yes I suppose. But I don’t think I’d ever not succumb to you,” she added with a devilish smile. The werewolf grinned back holding her closer. His voice became husky,

“Well then from now on, there’s no excuse.” The witch faked shock and splashed him with water. He growled suggestively before holding her tighter as she tried to squirm away. He nipped her shoulder playfully and she sighed before giving in to his amazing stare. His tongue was hot and wet against her own; the bristles of his beard excited her beyond belief.

The witch moaned as he let his hands run over her body under the water, and up to her breasts. His fingers flexed over her flesh, eager to make up for what he had missed caressing. The witch’s hands rolled over his muscled chest, and up to his face which she held as they kissed.

“I’ve never had sex in the bath,” he murmured as she broke free from the kiss. Her face contorted.

“What? We’re not having sex in here,” she said with a good poker face. He raised an eyebrow, and was about to question her when she giggled, her hands ran down behind her, touching his member which was already hard. He moaned.

“Oh you better be kidding. If you’re not I’ll make you pay,” he said as she stroked him. She grinned devilishly.

“I don’t think you could.”

The werewolf growled, he had rested his head against the wall, but now he pulled the witch closer. His hands slid over her body, over her firm nipples and down until one hand was caressing her clit. She trembled slightly, the feeling was overwhelming. It had seemed like an age since he had touched her and now it was so good.

“What makes you say that? I could just tie you to that bed out there and fuck you until kingdom-come.” But the witch wasn’t listening; she had given in to the convulsions the werewolf was making inside of her. She pulled his hand away and he stopped talking, her fingers grasped around in the water until they found what they were looking for. The werewolf groaned as the witch rubbed the head of his cock against her clit. Hermione gasped as she felt it penetrate her as she forced herself down upon it.

“I forgot how big it was,” she said rather pitifully, as the werewolf placed his hands on the witch’s hips. She bit her lip as she started to move, the werewolf gripped her breasts tightly. She was so tight it made him growl with arousal. Hermione purred with every buck, the water rippled around them and poured over the side of the bath and onto the floor.

She pulled closer to him, and kissed him in a frenzy, the werewolf growled under his breath;her skin was soft and wet, her lips warm and passionate. He held her closer, his hands running over her back as she rode his cock in a licentious rhythm. He watched her breasts shimmer and glisten as they splashed in and out of the water. His thumbs ran over her nipples, until he caught one in his lips. She moaned lustily and he had an urgent desire to throw her against the wall and fuck her.

“Fenrir,” she moaned as he put his hands on her hips and lifted her up. She pouted slightly as he kneeled and turned her around. He kissed down her neck and she moaned, thrusting her head back into the crook of his. He growled lustfully, as he looked at her breasts as her back arched and let his hand slip down to touch the warmth of her sex. The witch trembled in his grip, feeling his member press up against her back. She threw her hands up in front of her as he pushed her against the cold tiles. The bitter chill made her nipples throb; the werewolf let his hands run down her wet body as she pleaded for him to fuck her.

She felt his hand grab her left butt-cheek as he held his throbbing cock in the other and traced it against her clit. She wailed at him for teasing her, and he smirked pressing her harder against the wall. He let his cock penetrate her slightly, and she practically cried when he pulled it back out.

“Stop fucking around,” she hissed, she was so aroused she would scream if he waited any longer. He grinned, that horrible, sexy, devilish, evil grin she hadn’t seen for so long and buried his cock in her to the hilt. She cried out, but had no time for anything else as he thrust her hard against the wall. That tiny witch turned him on so fucking much, and she was such a good ride. He held onto her as he watched his member slide in and out of her. He found he was making as much noise as she was as they fucked, the water lapping around both their knees.

“Don’t stop,” she mumbled, her orgasm heightening as she convulsed on his cock.

“I wasn’t planning to,” he gasped, thrusting harder so that the witch’s head was thrown against the wall. She moaned as she reached her climax, the werewolf smirked, feeling himself begin to orgasm as he felt her come around his cock and watched it trickle out between thrusts. He growled lustfully before releasing his seed into her as she spasmed and then fell exhausted into his arms.

~~~

They lay together on the bed. Hermione brushed a strand of hair from the werewolf’s face, as he planted a kiss on her collarbone. “Mmm that was so good,” she said dreamily. “I’m exhausted,” she yawned, “And I have to go to work tomorrow!” The werewolf smirked,

“You’re exhausted?! I can barely move.” The witch laughed, pulling her towel up around her as a chill set in.

“Well you know...” she trailed off and closed her eyes as the werewolf continued kissing her neck, one hand snaking up to cup her breasts. She said his name and he smiled, taking his time to kiss over each nipple. She said his name again and he pushed her onto her back, his hand roaming over her chest and stomach and up her sides. “Fenrir, I’m exhausted!” The werewolf looked up to meet her gaze, his dark stub of a beard tickling her breast.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he said with a shrug, “I’m just window shopping.” She laughed pushing him away playfully, until he grabbed her by both wrists and pulled her on top of him, her towel falling away to the floor. “So tell me what it is you’re going to do tomorrow,” he said kissing her fingers one by one.

“Well I’m just going into the office; my holiday time is over now. They will wonder where I am if I don’t go. They will question me.”

“Are you sure it will be ok? What if anyone asks? That ginger family is still pretty big in the ministry – what if they know?” Hermione scowled.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll defer any rumours. Ron was a crappy boyfriend; it’s all in his head that I was kidnapped by a criminal – who else will believe him when I tell them how lousy he was in bed?”

“I thought you were a virgin?” Questioned Fenrir.

“I was, but they don’t need to know that,” she said watching a drop of water run down his muscular chest. “What if they ask you for details?” he said raising an eyebrow playfully. The witch sat up, with mock astonishment.

“Well I’ll just describe how terrible you are and change your name to his,” she said sticking her tongue out. The werewolf growled, lunging at her mischievously. He wrestled her down onto the bed, before whispering in her ear;

“Well it didn’t seem so terrible earlier,” his voice was husky, alluring and so arousing to the witch. She melted away in his kisses, letting slight groans out every time he caught her lip between his.

“Will everyday be like this?” she whispered in his ear.

“If you want it to be.”

“Oh yes,” she hissed, as he began to grind against her. She raked her nails along his arms as her back arched in pleasure.

~~~~

A/N: Yikes, short chapter but I am loving the lemons :)
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Savage Seduction