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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. :(

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Savage Seduction

3

I'm on the prowl and I watch you closely

I lie waiting for you

I'm the wolf with the sheepskins clothing

I lick my chops and your tasting good

I do whatever I want to, to ya’

I'll nail your ass to the sheets

A pelvic thrust and the sweat starts to sting ya’

I fuck like a beast

****

The last few days Hermione had been as quiet as a mouse, Ron had tried to bring her round, but she seemed distant. In the end she had lied and said she had got the flu, and had to stay in the bedroom all day. She had taken to reading over the werewolf book (She had requested it from Mrs Weasley), again and again. Although it was small, and generally just made up of peoples accounts of werewolves. She tried to dismiss the thought that Greyback was tracking her. After all, he was meant to be the most notorious werewolf in the country, surely if he wanted her that much he would have caught up with her by now, and wouldn’t he have better things to do? Yes, that seemed like a good theory. There was no way he would hang back like this if he still wanted her. It was a coincidence that he had been in Brighton and Cornwall. After all she had seen him in Brighton, it’s not like he had been hiding. Other people would have seen him too. Ginny hadn’t stopped trying to hammer that into her, and now she was beginning to believe it.

She threw the book aside, and fluffed her pillows. Lying in bed these past few days had been more tiring than relaxing to her. Her first day back at work was tomorrow, at least then she could get stuck into her paperwork and that would take her mind off everything.

****

The next morning, she rose early and flooed to work. She was wearing a burnt orange travelling cloak with a matching long sleeved top and blue jeans. It was informal Friday, the best day of the week. It started out being a stressful day however; there was tons of paperwork for everyone now the Christmas holidays were over. She had gladly joined a colleague, when he asked her out to lunch. Anything to get away from the rising workload, he thought the same. They were discussing how hectic the Ministry was recently, outside a small coffee shop just around the corner from the Ministry Visitor Entrance.

Suddenly, there were screams amidst the bustling crowd in the street, sparks flew from wands and everything was suddenly in an uproar. Hermione got to her feet at once to lend a hand as a Ministry worker, as did her co-worker just as everyone saw a rather tall dark figure run off from the crowd.

“It’s him,” a lady shrieked, and collapsed in a fit of sobs. The crowd dispersed as the wizards took up the chase, the sobbing woman was left on the ground, surrounded by a huddle of people. Hermione burst through the crowd of people, and saw another woman lying flat on her back, blood oozing from her face. Hermione gasped and covered her mouth; it made her want to gag. The woman lay motionless as healers from the nearby St.Mungos tried to get to her before the muggle medics could. Blood spewed from her head, the skin lay gaping open. One woman whispered frantically that he had bounded into the street with her in his mouth. Others gasped, and agreed or disagreed or said that was absurd and that he had just carried her in. The medics cursed, and tried to resuscitate her but as far as they were concerned she had been unconscious for a few hours, the wound was a few hours old.

Hermione stumbled back, everything seemed so surreal. The other women’s sobs became background noise. Oh god, this is actually happening, was all she could think. She could hear people shouting “Greyback,” and “Werewolf.” The community was in an uproar, ministry officials swept in to confund nearby muggles. Hermione felt herself hyperventilating. She knew it had to be true, he was after her – there was no doubt about it now.

She apparated, but she found herself on the edge of a forest. Her confused state could have almost splinched her, but it didn’t. It simply put her in the wrong place. She wasn’t very far from home; she could see the chapel of Ottery St.Catchpole just over the hill.

She stood on shaky legs but fell almost immediately. She was fearful of what happened. He had been so close; there was no doubt in her mind he had been trying to reach her. Tears streamed down her cheeks but she couldn’t keep silent.

Her head lay pressed against the mossy earth, as she sobbed uncontrollably. Her limbs ached with the encroaching cold but what little energy she had had already evaporated long ago. She struggled to get up, and lay sobbing on the ground, doubled over like a corpse.

After what seemed like hours she looked up, it had become even colder and it was dark. Her stomach growled with hunger, and she sniffed and got up. She was weak, and still a bit disorientated, but she knew she needed to get back home otherwise her family and friends would worry.

Then there was a low guttural growl from behind her. Her eyes widened as the hair stood up on her neck, and she turned slowly to look at the trees behind her. She was on the edge of a forest, in front of her was an open meadow, as she looked into the darkness she couldn’t see anything. She took a step back, and then another – her eyes frantically scanning the tree line. Nothing stood out, no gleaming eyes, no sharp teeth.

And then suddenly a beast moved out soundlessly from the trees, a large black shadow, it walked on all fours yet it looked as if it was crouching grotesquely. The witch couldn't make out any features but she had no doubt who it was. As the shadow gained features the image of a large wolves head became clear; it gave another growl. She took several steps back, she was almost running now. The beast lunged at her and she turned and ran. It bounded after her, her heart was thumping in her chest there was no way she could outrun him. Yet he hadn’t caught up with her yet, she was running as fast as she could and she could hear his laboured pants but he was just toying with her. He could catch her whenever he wanted. He gave a yip, and bounded after her almost playfully. But she was approaching the gate at the end of the field, there was no way she could clear it in a jump, she would have to change direction.

Suddenly he leapt through the air and mid-jump transformed from a wolf to human. The impact stunned her. He pinned her down on her stomach with his sheer weight and she yelled and thrashed about trying to break from his grip. He could barely stifle a laugh that seemed almost like a bark. “Gotcha’ girlie,” he rasped in her ear. That sickly sweet, perverse tone of voice haunted her; she was suddenly filled with dread. All the obscene memories from Malfoy Manor seemed insignificant now; he was much more menacing now than ever before.

Her wrists were wrought with pain as his arms crushed into them. He was twice her size, and put no real effort into holding her there. “Get off me you beast,” she shrieked hoping to create enough noise that someone...Anyone would hear. He stroked her hair with a grimy hand and she shivered repulsively as she tried to shut her eyes to the figure before her.

“Shushhh,” Fenrir soothed, “If you don’t go quietly neither will I.” He gave another low growl. And she grimaced at his breath. It stunk like raw meat, and his smell it was repugnant. It was already tugging at her gag reflex, he smelt like blood and sweat and rancid things. She didn’t know what he meant by his statement but there was one thing she did know – she was not going to go quietly.

“Help!” Hermione screamed, and he thrust her into the ground harder. She bit her cheek as her jaw connected with the hard, cracked mud.

“I told you...” he paused, his teeth clenched, “-to be quiet.” Then he bent down and licked the part of her neck that was exposed to him. The witch shuddered with repulsion; his tongue was rough and filthy. Even his face so close to her own made her shudder with disgust she hadn't hardly time to take in his features, all she saw was his cruel shining eyes in the moonlight and the white gleam of his teeth.

She aimed a clever kick between his legs and he immediately let go of her, and cried out in pain which slowly turned to a gurgling growl that had her stomach doing somersaults. She was 20 metres away from him now, but he just licked his lips and bounded after her on all fours. How he could do that was beyond her, he was an animal.

She ran as fast as she could, but he was gaining on her. He called after her, crooning, “You smell lovely by the way.” But she kept on running, until he sprang at her again knocking the witch on to her back this time. “This is the last time you are getting away little girl.” He grinned grotesquely, showing his sharp white teeth, his hard weather beaten skin crinkled at the corner of his mouth as he laughed cruelly. He opened his mouth in a snarl and went for her neck, but she threw her hands up to pound his chest to try and stop him.

“Please!” she begged, “Don’t bite me, please, let me go, please I’ll do anything, please, please don’t bite me,” she sobbed uncontrollably. Drool dripped from his canines onto her shoulder, he paused contemplating. For a few seconds the witch had stopped trying to break free to see if he would hear her out. He started to laugh; it was like a bark again, a sharp pitch which made her flinch slightly with every swell of laughter. Fenrir straddled her and threw his head back and bayed. She shuddered, it was even worse - it was loud and echoed for miles around. He leant down and licked across her face before she could protest and she cried out with disgust. She tasted good.

He grunted sliding his hands from her wrists down over her chest and cupped her breasts in both his hands. The weight of his thighs on her body was enough to satisfy him in holding her down. “You taste so good,” he rasped savouring her flavour on his tongue, he breathed out slowly and in again taking in her scent as well. “I’ve been searching for you for awhile now. You must have known. Surely I made my intentions clear in Malfoy Manor? You were my prize, and I always intended to claim it, no matter how far you had run from me.” She struggled under his weight to break free, she was tangled in her own cloak too and it wasn’t helping.

“Get your dirty hands off me!” Hermione seethed feeling a slither of confidence run through her, she tried to free one of her hands so she could punch him. He deserved it. They eyed each other as he immediately grabbed her fist as she threw a punch. Hermione was definitely in a bad position, she could see no way of getting out of this, Fenrir had the upper hand. She tried to kick out again, but could only knee him in the small of the back because of the way he was sitting on her. Her battle against him hardly fazed the werewolf, he continued on with his speech, his eyes lingering on her body.

“I’m glad you have saved yourself for me,” He licked his lips slowly. “It makes my quest for you a little more worthwhile.”

“What..?” she started in shock. How could he possibly know that? She stared in disbelief and he must have seen her reaction because he laughed heartily and lowered his head to the side of hers and licked her neck again and she shivered as his slimy tongue made her neck prickle with disgust.

“I can tell. You smell as sweet as flowers. Innocent white flowers.” He growled in her ear and continued, “And peppermint and fresh cut grass.” She blushed momentarily and squirmed uncomfortably under his weight. “But don’t worry, you’ll smell of me soon.” He nipped her ear playfully and she began frantically to struggle free once more, she could tell this was about to get a lot worse. His long, dirty fingers dragged down her chest and stomach and reached her belt. He started to undo it but she wriggled around and protested more. “I told you, this will all go smoothly if you be quiet. It’s better not to put up a struggle child, you don’t want to make me angry.” He purred obviously not very slighted by her intentions.

“I am not a child!” she howled at him, thrashing her legs about, her arms broke from under him and she swung a punch and her fist connected with his jaw. He growled louder than she had previously heard and he lunged down at her and ripped her top clean off with one sweeping gesture of his hands. An impressive feat if anybody had been watching. His claw-like nails had dug into her flesh and she burst into tears. Her perfect breasts shuddered with each sob, and he couldn’t help but admire the way they looked like moons. He cupped them roughly and gave each one a lick. She squirmed again audibly retching underneath him, still sobbing uncontrollably but the wolf knew she liked it. It was showing. He teased her, sucking gently on her now hard nipples. After a minute he could hear the way her breathing had slowed, and how she kept holding her breath every time he touched her between sobs, although she was still attempting to break free. The witch's face was streaming with tears; mascara ran down her face in lines. Every inch of her tried to break free from his grip but he was too powerful. She felt weak and repulsed with every one of his actions and her cheeks blushed with shame - even though there was nobody around to see them.

“You like that?” he said almost softly. She snarled and spat at him, something Hermione wouldn’t have ever done before. But how dare he do this to her? The werewolf grimaced as it hit him in the chest but he smirked and replied, “Don’t worry. You’ll like this.” He slipped a hand down her trousers until he could feel the damp velveteen folds he was looking for. She gasped, and her body went rigid. “This will be better if you just relax,” he growled. But she didn’t – she was determined not to. Fenrir was now lying by her side, one hand clamped firmly on her shoulder to stop her escaping, and the other was now slowly pushing its way into her. Hermione felt his cold hands caress her gently, she was practically being sick, but she was also feeling warmth bubbling inside her, she had experienced that kind before. To feel this now was making her burn with shame, but she couldn’t help it – it was only natural, but still didn’t dampen her embarrassment.

“Please stop,” she whimpered, but her request was almost a whisper as her voice grew hoarse from crying. She closed her eyes and tried not to imagine what was happening. She had been out here for ages, did nobody hear the howl? The screams? She hoped somebody found her before it was too late. Before this monster de-flowered her - she had been waiting for the right moment. This was not it! But what if somebody did find her? Would she really want them seeing what was happening, the shame would be too big to live with? Hermione was very reserved; she didn’t share these kinds of things with just anybody. Hell, she had been seeing Ron for 5 years now, and she was still not ready to submit to him.

She gasped and tore away from her thoughts as Fenrir slid an extra finger in, that was three now. She had never let Ron have more than two in there at any one time. And Fenrir was twice Ron’s size. “What’s wrong poppet?” Fenrir’s mouth curled into a smile. “Enjoying yourself?” He laughed grotesquely, and thrust harder into her. Hermione could barely suppress a cry. It hurt, and it probably didn’t help that her body was trying to repel the invader too. “It would be even better if you just relaxed,” he urged again. He rose up onto his elbows and leant forward to plant a kiss on her lips. As soon as she felt his warm lips touch her face she thrust her head in the other direction, his saliva smeared across her cheek where the kiss had hit her. His lips were softer than his tongue.

She screwed her eyes tight and violently thrashed her head from side to side trying to avoid the rest of his advances. Being so concentrated on that she hadn’t realised the wolf had already undone her belt and pushed her jeans and underwear down. He was thrusting in to her with more force than earlier, and she was actually letting slip to some moans here and there, to her own disgust of course. How could she like this? He was a beast of a man and she was determined that he would not have his way with her. He had shifted his weight and was kissing down her chest, tracing circles around her breasts with his free hand. She was now arching her back slightly, feeling less and less able to hold back on how she was really feeling. He still repulsed her though, she was quite sure of that. Her body was still rigid enough, trying not to conform to his preaching. She used every ounce of morality she had to try and stop her body from feeling the way it was. Even trying to squirm backwards up the grass as her back arched, but his firm hold on her shoulder kept her from going too far.

As soon as he felt her back arch again, he got up and pinned her to the ground by leaning on her legs. It was only then she actually realised he was wearing the same things as he had adorned in Brighton. Long leather coat, formal trousers, boots and well...his shirt was missing. He pulled of the rest of her clothes and she looked on horrified that he was pulling his own trousers down to his knees. She shut her eyes quickly to protect herself from whatever was under his coat. She could hear him laugh but she wouldn’t look, at any cost.

Suddenly she felt a warm object touch between her legs. It lapped at her wetness and she knew it must be his tongue, she could feel the texture of it on her skin. She held back a sob; she had only ever let one person touch her there before, now she was being molested like a common object. It delved into her and she gasped slightly. Fenrir tried to suppress a grin, he needed a straight face to do this, she tasted even better from this angle - he couldn’t help himself. He was quick to anger though, and he found it irritating that she wasn’t getting as much enjoyment out of this as she should be, so he looked up at her. Her eyes were still held shut. So be it.

He lifted her legs up and thrust his member in to her, immediately her eyes opened and her jaw dropped in shock. He gave a rasping laugh. She stifled a wailing scream, it was so painful. He must have been at least three times the size of Ron, from the feel of it. It didn’t help that nothing much bigger than a liquorice wand had been in there before! He had paused, giving her enough time to quieten down, although now she was crying profusely. Now he thrust deeper into her, with every throw she squeaked horribly - Although it aroused him. He grunted with satisfaction, she was tight, wet and warm. Hermione however was not getting any satisfaction out of it; she could feel herself tearing inside. He knew she was a virgin, so why was he doing this to her? She shrieked in agony, and prayed he would stop soon.

Her wishes came true, but you know what they say? It gets worse before it gets better. She sobbed uncontrollably and wished she had something to bite down on when he started to get faster. He was thrusting faster and deeper than before, his nails were digging into her legs making her bleed slightly. He grunted, and delved into her as hard as he could, he could feel himself on the brink of an explosion. Fenrir looked down and could see blood seeping out around his member, he groaned in approval. He leaned over her and nipped her neck as his seed spilled into her and she continued to sob even when he had pulled out and rolled onto the grass. Blood was spread across his thighs and his member and he licked the smears off his hand.

She was too tired and sore to get up and run, even though now would be her only chance. Perhaps he would just leave her be now, and she could come home and bottle everything up. Fenrir was lying on his back panting in the grass. But he didn’t stay there for long; he must have suspected an attempt to escape because he pulled on his trousers and got up holding out a hand for the witch. She had turned on her side and rolled up into a ball and was shaking uncontrollably. He bent down to touch her and they apparated out of sight.

****

A/N: What did you guys think? I love reviews! And please rate as well!

Why the Lyrics: OMG BECAUSE I LOVE THAT SONG, Plus it totally describes how Fenrir feels. (Animal (Fuck Like A Beast) by W.A.S.P) GREAT SONG! Listen to it, it’s diirrtehh :P

Also omg, my own writing disgusts me sometimes. I shuddered after reading over the bit where he says “What’s wrong poppet?” – eeeee creepy uncle type stuff there. Gross Gross Gross Gross. Happy with the outcome though. ;)
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Savage Seduction