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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
- 22
- 23
Note: My apologies. Please see my profile for a fuller explanation. There you will also find the original note that was written a day after Deathly Hallows Part One was released, left it there for sentimental value since the chapter never got published on time. Again, see my profile as mods don’t like my waffling on here and I seldom use the forums.

Savage Seduction

23

****

Hermione smoothed out her plum coloured pencil skirt. Nervously she checked the door for any sign of movement. Her office, which she shared with her secretary, was empty. The witch had arrived a good hour early; to avoid the chatter that went on in the main hall when everyone arrived together. She did not want to make a scene, even though she was merely returning from time off work she knew there had been all sorts of gossip about her.

The ornate clock on the wall chimed eight O’Clock, and she looked around her dark office. It seemed so unfamiliar; the dark cherry wood of her desk and cabinets seemed to dampen the gloom when it usually gave an air of sophistication.

The witch sighed, she loved her work normally. Nothing made her happier than having a full inbox, and plenty of people to organize – but not today. Her inbox was certainly full, but she had no wish to see anyone. A knock came at the door and the witch knocked over a pile of papers accidently, as she was trying to straighten up.

“Miss Granger,” a male voice called timidly. Hermione cleared her throat, unable to identify the voice. Clasping her pen tightly she stared at the faint shadow behind the glass panelled door before replying.

“C-come in,” she said, pretending to sign some papers and be busy with work. The door creaked open, and Arthur Weasley appeared, in his usual shabby mottled green robes. A pointed velvet hat perched on the back of his head. He was as cheerful as usual, yet a streak of apprehension was evident on his brow.

“Oh, Arthur, do come in,” said Hermione slightly shocked. He looked about nervously, checking the coast was clear before stepping forward and closing the door quietly. He took a shuffling step towards the witch’s desk before bursting into a rapid and unmanageable monologue.

“I see you are here quite early. You always were one for getting your work done – I see your secretary is not here yet-” But Hermione was only half listening. What on earth could Arthur want? Granted he had not taken the same view as Mrs Weasley when Hermione had broken up with their son, but he was under the influence of her certainly. They didn’t talk like they used to before, and Hermione did not think it was because Arthur didn’t want to, but rather he didn’t want to enrage his wife.

He had actually said the kindest thing to her when they broke up. He had reminded Hermione and his wife that people change, and that they mustn’t forget that they were only children when they met. But still, their meetings waned, and she saw less and less of him at her time in the ministry.

“Hermione?”

“Oh,” she awoke from her reverie. “Beg your pardon Arthur, I just seem to need a little more time to adjust back into work – I’m afraid my mind is everywhere.”

“Not at all,” Arthur said cheerily, but he drew closer, the frown reappearing on his head above his obscure hat. “The reason I came, Miss Granger,” he paused, lowering his voice. “There are talks...”

“I know Arthur.”

“No, Hermione, you must be careful. I heard just there now that that self-righteous git Lucius Malfoy is trying to get hold of you.”

“Mr Weasley,” said Hermione softly, “I can assure you Lucius Malfoy has been anything but pleasant to me for quite some time now.”

“You’re right,” he conceded, “but he sounded severe. Don’t take this so lightly, I don’t know what he’s up to – or what you’re up to for that matter, I just ask you to be careful. Listen, Hermione...I don’t blame you for what happened and I don’t believe these rumours,” He looked at her sympathetically. Suddenly the door swung open and in strode a petit witch with blonde hair tied up loosely behind her head. She was holding an enormous stack of papers, which on seeing the two conversing, slipped right out of her hands and plummeted to the floor.

“Oh, Miss Granger, I’m sorry I did not think I would be expecting you until later in the day,” she curtsied but Hermione smiled and waved her to her desk. The witch adjusted her horn rimmed glasses before kneeling awkwardly in her skirt to the floor so she could rearrange the papers.

“Its fine Lucinda, I just wanted to beat the rush.”

“Good-day Miss granger,” said Arthur nodding secretively towards her before hurrying out of the room, an electrical plug trailing from his back pocket.

“Lucinda can you please forward me any messages I may have received whilst away,” asked Hermione as she tidied her already tidy desk. There was a pause before the secretary answered.

“Well,” she straightened up, clutching the papers. Her fingers tapped edgily on the sides. “Ma’am a lot of messages came, so I sorted them for you but a lot of them were...well-”

“Yes?”

“Er, I’ll show you.” The witch crossed the room and opened a large cabinet on the opposite wall, from inside she drew out two boxes and they floated towards Hermione’s desk weary of their weight.

Hermione knocked off both the lids briskly and glanced at one, which seemed to be legitimate parchment addressed to her line of work. The other was full of rolled up parchments, post it notes, folded paper dragons and scraps of paper. She lifted a dragon curiously; it began to spark red and issued forth a red flame from its mouth which lingered in the air. The witches shared a confused look between each other but then Lucinda gasped and pointed to the flame. It had now arranged itself to spell out “Filthy Whore.”

Hermione seethed, flashing her wand and removing the obscenity from the room. She might have known. She grabbed another note from the box, all of them turned out to be loose threats, whisperings and slanderous messages.

“How dare they!” she said, and Lucinda nodded and blushed and looked rather embarrassed.

“I didn’t know what to do with them Miss, I should have burned them,” she said. Hermione shook her head, and waved the secretary back to her desk. She began destroying the letters, so she could get on with some real work when her secretary spoke up.

“Oh Ma’am, I forgot, I’m so sorry. I was meant to say to you earlier – Mr Malfoy would like to speak with you.”

Hermione looked up from her desk. She was sure what Arthur said could not be true. Why would Mr Malfoy want to speak to her? Granted he was the head of her department but surely...yes surely this would be work related. What else could it be?

****

She sat in her superior’s room awaiting his arrival. The room was very elegant, filled with over-elaborate furniture tinged green as a theme. The grand fireplace was empty but the room was not cold. Hermione looked around uneasily and she knew not why. Mr Malfoy had greatly improved since the war. He was not sent back to Azkaban on his account of being cursed. Hermione scoffed; he was lying of course. But admittedly she had always remembered his haunted look as she was dragged through Malfoy manor. He was a broken man then, with no wand, and no say, the Dark Lord had taken over his own property. He had no power, only Voldemort had power – but he had to do what he did for his family and because he did not have a choice. Perhaps once, he was truly evil, but not now. He may still be a stuck up, self-righteous prat but he was a charming one none the less.

The door opened and in waltzed the man in question. He was wearing flowing grey robes to his feet, which shimmered in the lamp light. And of course he had his cane, because he seldom went anywhere without it. The snake head gleamed from polishing, and its emerald eyes had been replaced by rubies as the first one had been destroyed.

“Miss Granger, a pleasant surprise.” He said as he stopped by her chair to shake her hand. Hermione smiled tensely, she still had some dislike in the man. He was so uppity. She watched him as he hung up his cloak on a stand and sat down on a large leather chair opposite her, with his desk in between. He wore a silver waistcoat and trousers with a black shirt; he fiddled with the cuffs until they were unbuttoned before he spoke.

“I trust you are well,” he said eloquently. She nodded, placing her hands together in her lap. “Do you know why you are here?”

“I do not,” she said flustered. Should she know? Was this really about the gossip going around the ministry? She started to panic, and fill with rage.

“Well I simply want to welcome you back from your time off. I hope you had a pleasant time. You will not know that Amanda Pippit has been selected as new Senior Undersecretary to the Minster because it has not yet reached the papers and I please ask you to keep that to yourself until they decide to announce it.”

Hermione nodded, she watched the wizard as he spoke. He was not looking directly at her, but rolling a cuff link in his thumb and forefinger, a smirk played on his face. She hated that smirk, the one he always wore. He was a handsome man, and he knew it, she couldn’t help but drink in his fine features from his jaw line to his hair.

“However you will have heard some other rumours,” he delayed the last few words, enjoying the effect it was having on the witch.

“I am not one for gossip, should these rumours concern me?” Said the witch, lowering her gaze to his chest. He set the cufflink on the table, and folded his hands together.

“Well, they do as a matter of fact. They are about you, and your whereabouts and goings-on while you were away from work. Granted the vanishing cabinet was an amusing story but it hardly got anywhere on the gossip chain. No,” he pondered, his slate eyes looking directly at her. “They were about your vile conduct to that Weasley you hang about with. And the befriending of a high priority undesirable.”

“They are lies Lucius, and I should think such a man as you would know better than to believe them,” Hermione stated sternly, her hands were almost balled into fists she was so angry. While these whisperings were floating around the witch’s room and other gossip networks she did not think that higher up officials would ever respond to such frivolous lies.

“Ah,” he said finally meeting her gaze. “How very kind of you to compliment me so. It just so happens that you are right, I do know better, I know better than all of them put together.”

At first the witch thought he was just bragging, but there was a deeper meaning to his statement. He leaned closer, a strand of blonde hair falling from behind his ear. The witch watched him in contempt.

“I know these rumours are true.”

“They are lies!” The witch stood up in anger. “They are lies Lucius.”

“And here I was, thinking you were such a good girl.”

“I am not a girl Lucius,” she seethed putting her hands on the desk. Lucius smirked again; he took in her pretty face, her chest heaving beneath her blouse, the lipstick that made her lips shine with vigour.

“You are right, it has been a while since I’ve seen you in Uniform,” he drawled, taking enjoyment in her frustration. The witch banged her fist on the table.

“What do you want from me?”

“Calm down,” he said in his awful slow manner. “I wouldn’t speak to your superior like that if I were you,” the witch went to apologise but he waved her away and continued to speak, “Let’s speak as friends.” He watched the witch move uncomfortably.

“Now I know you are lying and like I said, I’ve never known you to lie. Now these Muggle* whispers, do you want to know how they started?” The witch was silent.

“Your little Weasley came and told me, but I didn’t believe him at first. Then suddenly it was the news of the day, everyone was talking about it – started probably by that vile mother of his. And I still didn’t care. But then something curious happened. However I do not believe they were related. I and a few other departments got direct orders from Mr Shacklebolt to reopen the war files. We began prosecuting again, those that had falsified their statements, those that had curious items and agendas.”

“And were you worried Lucius?” seethed the witch. He broke into an elaborate smile.

“You know me too well Miss Granger. Actually I did not do anything until now, there are some things I would rather keep in the dark, but there are still those living that know about them.”

“Mr Malfoy you would not kill-“

“No, but I would blackmail.” He placed his wand on the table, and leaned closer to the witch. “And so here is my proposition to you.”

“I can offer you protection, in return,” he continued. The witch leaned further into her chair and away from the wizard.

“I don’t know what you mean, and I don’t know anything about you. Whatever you think I know is false. I know nothing.”

“Ah, but your beau does.”

“Excuse me?” she uttered. He leant back in his chair and seemed less threatening but when he spoke again she shuddered.

“You may not know anything about me, but he does. And the ministry must not know at any cost,” he growled, she had rarely seen him speak so testily.

“Who? I don’t understand. I don’t know what you mean by protection. You cannot blackmail me, I will tell Kingsley.”

“No I don’t think you will. You see you need protecting, and I can offer that, in return I need reassurance that your boy-toy will not testify against me. However, if he tried he’d be good as dead anyway – that’s where my protection comes in.”

“Boy-toy?” She muttered.

“The rumours are true. But I can make them go away.”

“They are not, I told you!” She yelled lifting from her seat once more.

“But they are Hermione, I heard from the man himself.” She froze, their gaze met, she couldn’t tell if he was lying. She fell to her seat. Why would Fenrir see Lucius behind her back?

“You are wrong,” she muttered, visibly shaken. “You cannot blackmail me.” She got up to leave, holding on the chair for support.

“I am not wrong. But if you do not want my protection so be it. He’s as good as dead.” The wizard gave one final smirk before she left the room.

****

The werewolf lazily leaned back on his chair, a dirty buckled boot against the table to steady him. In his hands was something furry, which he was taking great pleasure in digesting. The rest of the poor animal was splayed over the gnarled wooden kitchen table.

A flash of sparks and green light illuminated the hearth momentarily as Hermione stepped out. She brushed down her plum jacket and straightened up. Her nose wrinkled in disgust as she saw the werewolf, and whatever that was on the table, or rather had been.

She went to speak, but the werewolf pulled the appendage from his mouth, “What?” he said accusing her expression. Blood trickled down his lips and chin.

“That’s disgusting,” she said throwing her handbag onto the counter and pointing her wand at the kettle. Fenrir mimicked her as she turned away and continued to pull at the meat, its tough sinew snapping with the force of his teeth. The witch reacted quickly with her wand.

“Ah!” the werewolf shuddered dropping his quarry, as his hands reached the back of his head where she had smote him. “What is your problem?”

“You’re filthy,” she exclaimed.

“You’re clean,” he retaliated.

The witch failed to hear him, and began pouring herself a cup of tea, but her hands shook so violently the water poured everywhere and she let go of the pot prematurely. It fell from her hands to the floor where it smashed, she looked at it blankly.

The werewolf turned and stared at the witch for a few seconds before picking himself up from the chair in silence. The witch held back a cry, but couldn’t sustain it. Fenrir removed his wand from his pocket and repaired the teapot, before bending down to the witch who had sunk to the floor.

“Hermione,” he said, but she gave a sob in reply. He pulled her up by her arms, but her body was limp and listless. The werewolf put his arm under her legs and lifted her effortlessly. He started for the door.

****

In the library the fire had been lit by Bobbin, the werewolf placed the witch on one end of a divan and observed her from a distance. Tears rolled down her pale cheeks. He didn’t know what was wrong, she hadn’t spoken a word.

The werewolf frowned as he moved some books aside, leaving blood traces on their delicate pages. His hands were stained as well as his clothes but the witch looked up miserably and he decided she thought it was ok for him to approach.

The witch moaned exasperatedly, before burying herself in his chest as he sat beside her. The werewolf expressed a grunt in her ear. “I’m so tired,” she said yawning. Her joints ached. The first day back had been long and horrible, even though she had scarcely been in contact with anyone and hid in her office all day. The werewolf kissed her ear lightly, leaving it tainted red.

“Work was awful. Everybody suspects something,” said the witch finally coming round.

“But they don’t know,” the werewolf cut in. She gave another sob and the werewolf grimaced but kept his embrace with her regardless. After awhile she sniffed, and Fenrir took it for recovery.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Malfoy?” She sobbed and the werewolf stared at her blankly.

“Tell you what?”

“Apparently Lucius Malfoy knows about us, now do you know anything about that?” She turned, still in his grasp to meet his gaze. The blood on his face repulsed her. The werewolf hesitated. “Well?” she said penetrating his gaze. She could tell nothing, he was good at a staring game, and never gave himself away.

“I found out about the hearings. I knew some things about Malfoy that would get him locked away for good. I thought it would be a good opportunity.”

“Why did you go looking for him? You’re and idiot! Now he knows!” The werewolf growled as the witch pounded her fists at his chest, harmlessly.

“I didn’t go looking! I was just thinking about it, and I managed to run into him. Actually he was looking for me. He wanted to see if the rumours were true.”

“...And you told him?” said the witch, her eyelashes stuck together with tears.

“No,” said the werewolf. “Do you have so little faith in me?” He held the witch’s gaze until she felt guilty and turned away again. “It wasn’t like that, I didn’t tell him anything.”

****

The bar was loud, and obnoxious in all aspects. Its very design was dishevelled at best. Fenrir sat, hooded and cloaked in a shadowy booth on the opposite side of the bar. On the table lay a newspaper, the articles were obscured by the light but he could catch the glint of an eye or the movement of a robe in the pictures that never stayed still. Beside his paper stood a tall mug of ale, a solitary drip mournfully sliding down its walls towards the rustic table. A refined voice called out to him, and at first he did not think it was addressing him, it was unusual for someone who frequented this abysmal place to speak in such a manner.

“Ah, I have been looking for you,” it said. He didn’t turn; he continued to stare at a painting on the wall opposite. It was a curious sort of painting, one which looked like something different to everyone that viewed it. To Fenrir it was purple heather spread across Moorlands, with a stormy sky behind it. Until of course, it was obscured by a man standing in front of him.

“Mr Greyback, I’d like to have words with you.” The werewolf growled, but upon looking up he discovered it was a former death eater, Lucius Malfoy. His glistening blonde hair and sparkly cane set him apart from the others who were little more than beggers now; if they had escaped trial. The werewolf gestured towards the wizard, urging him to sit. What could this git want with him?

The wizard turned the handle of his cane and withdrew his sleek black wand, he muttered something incoherent and a partition separated their booths from other on-lookers. It was invisible to the muggle eye, of course – to them the booth looked empty. Fenrir shed his cloak and hood and he could see the wizard muster his expression at the sight of the werewolf. It had been a few years.

“What a charming place you have taken up residence in? Muggles...really?” said Lucius with a tad of distain.

“We like muggles now don’t we Blondie?” snarled the werewolf. “Remember both of us are...undesirables.”

“You,” said the wizard, straightening the cuffs of his jacket, “Are the undesirable.”

“Not for long though,” said Fenrir thrusting a blood stained finger at the newspaper strewn across the table. In the light it depicted articles of war crimes. “Got ants in your pants?” He smirked at the wizard. Lucius ignored his comment, still keeping up his appearance of royalty.

“Greyback I believe we have some...unfinished business.”

“We don’t have any business Mr Malfoy,” said the werewolf imitating the wizard’s haughty attitude.

“You know what I speak of,” he said holding the werewolf’s gaze. The latter was silent; he wrapped his hand against the table, slowly thinking.

“So,” the wizard said, relaxing a little. “Are the rumours true?” The werewolf grunted.

“What rumours? Haven’t heard any lately.”

“The rumours about you and a Miss Hermione Granger,” the wizard smirked, twirling his cane beneath his fingertips. The werewolf laughed gruffly, grabbing for the pint of ale. The wizard was moved slightly in his seat. The strength of the beast was made aware with his projections.

“I don’t know who you mean, although the name sounds familiar,” he said drinking greedily from the stein. The wizard frowned.

“I believe you tried to seduce her in my manor, surely you must remember that.” The werewolf barked.

“Do I look like I seduce people?” Greyback paused with a grin. “But now you mention it, I do remember her, whatever her name was, she was very enticing. I did want to give her a bite or two.”

Lucius grimaced, he had forgotten the vulgarity of the beast. Having him in his house was enough to test his patience but he could hardly have asked the dark lord to remove him. “Yeah she was prime stuff, that reminds me, how’s your wife Blondie?” He barked with laughter again and Lucius stiffened in his seat.

“I’m here to make you a deal Greyback. If these rumours are true – which I think you know they are, then I can offer you protection. I am the head of Wizarding Law Enforcement, I can make anyone disappear. Remember Greyback, you are a criminal. You don’t want anything to happen to that little witch of yours now do you?”

“I told you Malfoy,” said the werewolf irate. “I have nothing to do with her, I don’t know what you’re trying to offer me, and you are trying my patience.” He growled thumping the stein on the table. “In any case, why would you want to help me? There’s something in it for you isn’t there.”

The wizard was tight-lipped, unwilling to tell the next part of the deal until he could be sure if the rumours were true. In all honestly, he had no idea if they were. But if the ministry were to find out about certain things, he would lose everything.

“Tell me, truthfully Fenrir, are you in contact with Miss Granger? Remember, I can have you put away right now if you don’t tell me.”

“You wouldn’t do that on an old friend. You’re too crooked for your own good. And I told you already, I haven’t seen that girl since the war. Now tell me your deal.”

“Well I wouldn’t call us friends,” Lucius scoffed.

“If you think that way,” began the werewolf coyly. “Then I suppose I could let some things be known to the general public. After all, they are re-evaluating the war crimes. Perhaps you might find yourself on trial Mr Malfoy.”

The wizard gritted his teeth. Had he known the werewolf to be so clever, he would not have tried to ask him so openly. “What is a secret between friends?” Smiled the wizard.

The werewolf barked, bearing his sharpened teeth as he laughed. “If you turn me in Malfoy I’ll tell them.”

“Do not try and blackmail me! My convictions will be nothing compared to yours.”

“Is that so?”

“You’re a murderer, a savage one at that, you will get execution. I’m a murderer,” he whispered, “I’ll get off Scott free.” He smirked. And the werewolf gave him a sneer.

“Just try it Malfoy. You’ll not be so regal after I tell them what you’ve done.” The werewolf growled, and turned to leave.

“We’ll see about that,” Lucius called.

****

“If you didn’t tell him, then how come he knows?” The witch cried out. The werewolf paced away from her.

“He didn’t.”

“What?” said the witch, “that’s absurd. He told me you had told him.”

“Well he lied, he obviously knows now from your reaction. Shit,” said the werewolf kicking over a chair. Hermione threw her hands up to her face, tears trickled down her cheeks.

“I’m so stupid. Oh Merlin, what are we going to do?” The werewolf kicked another chair over before stopping beneath the hearth.

“Nothing. We do nothing.”

“But-“

“Lucius can’t do anything but guarantee I don’t say anything. But if you told him no, then he can’t call you out anyway.”

“I don’t understand,” said the witch appearing beside the fireplace.

“If Lucius were to officially prove that you are with me we’d both be dead. But he knows that if I’m captured then I’ll tell the ministry about him. So he can’t call us out. And now you’ve turned him down he also can’t stop me from spreading the rumours about him. That’s why he’s offering us protection. He’s still crooked. If I promise not to tell, then he will make it so we cannot be found, or you cannot be traced to me.”

The witch frowned, “What are we going to do? I don’t want to get involved with this!”

“For now, nothing,” the werewolf reassured her but lines of worry were beginning to appear on his forehead.

****

A/N: *Muggle Whispers, like “Chinese” whispers in the wizarding world.

Well what did you’s think? What will they doooo? I’ve decided to scrap the original ending because I’ve been very bad and you’ve been very good readers. Now I plan on having a twist and a longer story :) And probably not a sad ending, but maybe for Ron lol.
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Savage Seduction