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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

4

Well I'm hating, all of this

I'm hating, all of this

All of this, all of this

Now I know why, I hide my love from you somedays

No I don't mind keeping this bottled inside me

You came along, and tore this wall down around me

Looks like you found me

Now I know why

I felt like shit when I woke up this morning

****

Hermione felt nauseous from apparating. She was cradled in the arms of Fenrir, as he carried her across what looked like a back garden. They passed a broken greenhouse, and the house itself seemed to appear out of nowhere as they approached it in the darkness. The werewolf kicked the back door open and stepped sideways through the threshold so Hermione would not hit her head on the frame. She had gone awfully silent.

He carried her up to the first floor landing, and into a bedroom. The drapes had been pulled shut, and the room was dank and dark. The werewolf laid her down gently on the bed; she rolled over in her sleep. Her eyes were puffy from crying, and she had bruises on her arms from where he had held her down. Blood oozed from the punctures in her leg, and her thighs were plastered with the red substance. Repugnantly he had to restrain himself from licking it off. Instead he sat down on the rug in front of the fireplace and lit it. And then he waited for her to wake up; he liked observing her.

It was hours later when she stirred. Fenrir was lying on his back on the rug, one hand resting on his chest. His blue eyes stared up at the ceiling, and since the little witch had first curled up on the bed he had shed his coat and his boots and his shirt. He leapt up when he heard her turn over, and approached the bed carefully. She was still sleeping. His eager eyes pored over the tiny figure of a girl, he swallowed carefully. Perhaps, just perhaps she wouldn't notice. Lowering his head he breathed in her scent, she smelt so enticing, his face was inches from her skin, to hell with it. He let his tongue run over her naked body. She tasted so delicious.

He licked at her legs, over the sores where his fingernails had dug into her skin, licking over the dried blood that stuck to the skin. She stirred but did not wake. He crept up the bed, licking her inner thighs, his rough tongue eager to lap up the sweet taste. The werewolf growled with lust, and started to lick at the apex of her legs. His cock twitched in anticipation of her waking up. He licked her sex again, long and drawn out – tasting the different flavours on his tongue. Blood, sweat and seed among other things. She twitched occasionally but she still did not wake up. He did not want to force her awake, but he was getting impatient. He sucked against her bud, and licked long and slow against her velvet folds. She was getting wetter by the minute. She even uttered a soft moan in her sleep. He slid out of his trousers, there was no doubt she would wake up soon. He gave a low growl with lust, as he lowered his head again between her legs and she suddenly woke up.

Hermione jumped at the growl, her eyes sprang open – still sore from crying. She screeched as she saw Fenrir, momentarily forgetting the earlier events, lying in between her legs. She lunged to the side of the bed but he caught her around the knees. She then was aware of the intense pain of her body. Her arms and legs ached from bruises and scratches. And her lower body convulsed with pain. It shook in exhausted spasms as she tried to force it to act quickly, but it would not.

She lashed out at him in retaliation, and he snarled at her. She managed to give him a sharp kick in the face and run for the en suite bathroom attached to the room. She flung the door closed, but not fast enough. The werewolves hand caught the door, pushing it open and grabbing the girl by her arm. He slammed her against the wall, beside the walk-in shower and rasped in her ear, “I thought you were going to be good?” Blood leaked from his lip, his own this time. To say he was angry may have been incorrect as there was most definitely a streak of excitement on his grimy, disgusting face.

She grimaced as her head hit the tiled wall. She could feel his breath on the nape of her neck, and his erection pressed into her butt cheeks. She gritted her teeth and hissed at him, “Get off me you beast!” She squirmed under his grasp, but only to make things worse. He snickered as her backside wiggled further into his crotch.

“Don’t try and fight me, you won’t like that.” He put a grimy hand on top of her head and pulled it back so her neck was exposed to him. The werewolf cupped one of her breasts as he planted rough kisses down her neck and felt the witch physically shudder under his grasp. His thumb stroked over her hard nipple, she gritted her teeth in disgust. She squirmed again, trying to break free from his grasp and managed to turn herself around, but he still had hold of her. He pulled back slightly admiring her naked body still partly caked with blood.

The werewolf crooned at her, licking his lips slowly and she threw her head towards him, and it gave a loud crack as it connected with his fore-head. He growled fiercely as the blow hit him but in a second he had ripped her from the bathroom wall, hands gripped the back of her head and hair, and forced her through the doorway and head-first onto the four-poster bed. “You’re going to wish you hadn’t done that,” he rasped in her ear before nipping her neck sharply and dragging his claws down her back so they raked into her flesh.

Hermione screamed out in pain. He laughed cruelly, his cock twitching with delight in her fear. The werewolf thrust a finger into her cavity, and she gasped. She still felt damaged, like she would never recover. How could he do this to her now? “Please, stop,” she pleaded, as he thrust another in. He grinned, and held a firm hand on her side, she wouldn’t escape. “Please,” she begged, “Fenrir please.” She gulped; she hadn’t addressed him with his name before. Did he even know hers? “It hurts too much, let me rest,” the witch bartered, knowing that she would never get away from this punishment – but she could possibly delay it.

The werewolf pulled out of her and licked his fingers thoughtfully. She tasted divine. “As you wish,” he purred, but he did not let go of her. Hermione’s head drooped with relief, her breathing slowed. But suddenly a hand was brought down firmly on her ass, and she felt a pair of hands knead them enthusiastically. She threw her brown locks behind her as she craned her neck to look at the beast. He stood, head thrown back and he gave her a smirk that rightfully belonged to Draco Malfoy. Fenrir let out a bark as he looked at her confused gaze. His hand traced along his member, which was dripping agonizingly. The small witch’s eyes widened as she looked back in front of her and trying to escape, reached for the end of the bed. But both hands held onto her firmly at the hips and she suddenly bit her lip furiously as he entered her from behind.

The burning pain hit her fast, it stung, and the movement inside her definitely wasn’t as smooth as before. As he thrust into her harder, she begged him to stop. But aside from the burning pain that ebbed at her below, it felt strange. It felt rather empty – she couldn’t feel any sort of tingling of pleasure. Although, she hadn’t felt that much pleasure last night either.

Before long she couldn't feel anything at all save for the horrible prodding feeling in her stomach that was making it churn and she felt her gag reflexes starting to quiver. She supposed he thought this was a way around 'letting her rest.' “Fuck,” she spat, as he thrust particularly hard. She closed her eyes and tried not to cry. Although she felt a lot less emotional than last night. Everything was numb, it was if she would just have to ride it out and then it would be over, literally speaking too.

“Will you fucking stop it?!” She growled now trying to block out what was happening to her ass. Lowering herself to her elbows to gain what little comfort she could she thought, Great, I’ve been as de-flowered as one could be, in less than 24 hours. At least this time it didn’t come along with any painful emotional torture. She groaned in disgust, as the rhythm started to make her head hurt, she could actually feel vomit sloshing around in her stomach now. He grunted behind her, giving one last shudder before falling on top of her, she gasped as his heavy body crushed her into the bed, but he rolled aside again before she could protest.

Now he had snaked an arm around her middle, and was nuzzling into her soft brown hair. “You smell like peppermint,” he whispered and she shuddered as he felt his hot, sweaty body press against hers. Hermione struggled to get away, but he only gripped on to her tighter. “Ah ah ah, I don’t like a cold bed.” He growled in her ear and she began to cry softly.

****

Hermione had fallen into a quiet slumber, but she awoke stiff and sore a few hours later. She sneered in disgust when she remembered where she was. The little witch was lying on her side, in a large oak sleigh bed. Fenrir’s hand was resting on her thigh. She craned her neck around, without moving her body too much, to look at him. Good, she thought: He was still asleep. She grimaced at the smell, she was filthy. Her nostrils were being abused; she couldn’t quite fathom what exactly it was or smelt like. In the end she decided it was sex, as she had heard jokes about sex having a smell before. Although in the past when she heard them she supposed it smelt nice and invigorating – this on the other hand was not very pleasant. But she could hardly get a shower now – she had better things to do.

Ever so carefully she slid his hand off her thigh – he didn’t even move. Perfect. Hermione couldn’t hold back a grin, she felt clever. She slid off the bed carefully and tip-toed to the door. As she grabbed the ornate handle, he growled and she froze, fear stabbing at her insides. But as she looked back over her shoulder she realised he was just dreaming, and with her gaze lingering on him, he suddenly rolled over and faced the opposite direction with a snort. Hermione smirked, and pulled the door open ever so carefully.

Outside on the landing she looked around to get her bearings. She hadn’t seen the rest of the house yet, and from what she could see from the window above the staircase it was early morning. The dawn had not broken just yet. She felt around and saw the dark shapes of the banister and held onto it as she descended to the ground floor. She could feel the place was very messy, objects littered the stairs and the little witch had to hold on with both hands so as not to trip. As she approached the bottom it got lighter. There was a beautiful bay window opposite her letting in light on the last few steps and a large set of curtains which she assumed blocked another large window.

The witch squeaked as her hand slid against material on the banister. She soon realised it was Fenrir’s black shirt. She sniffed it wearily before pulling it over her head – well she was naked. She wasn’t going to escape to go nudie in the countryside. That is, if she was in the countryside. It didn’t smell that bad, still a bit sweaty but it was more arousing than disgusting. It was the same type of smell she liked on Ron’s clothes, it was a very masculine scent, not like proper sweat – she supposed.

The shirt was huge, it came down well over her thighs, and she had to keep pushing the sleeves up so her hands could hold onto things properly. It was already buttoned halfway up but she hadn’t time to finish it – she needed to get out. She felt her way along the walls, and looked into the first room she came to. It was a sitting room, with large cushy armchairs and a fireplace. She did not go in, but instead carried on down the hallway until she came to what she felt was the kitchen. The cold tiles below her feet were dirty – she could feel the grime. Grimacing slightly she walked into the middle of the room feeling around for something to hold on to. She caught the end of a chair and it moved slightly and she froze, hoping it would not wake up the werewolf. She held on to it with one hand and reached out with the other and then she felt the opposite wall. Throwing herself against it gently she reached and found the back door. The witch felt butterflies arise in her stomach as her hands touched the handle, but it would not turn. She tried again and again, soundlessly to prise the door open but it would not budge. Damn, she muttered.

The witch let up the blinds that hung over the kitchen sinks windows, and light flooded part of the room. It was more yellow now; she didn’t have much time left. She clambered onto the sink unit and tried the window latches. Bollicks. She pushed at the glass, it looked flimsy enough but as much as she pushed it wouldn’t budge. She was desperate now; she kneeled closer and rammed her elbow into the window, only to wince in pain. It had definitely been reinforced magically.

“Going somewhere?” a voice accused. Hermione swung around and immediately slipped on the surface and landed in the sink with the tap prodding into her back. She bit her lip in pain, and in fear. Fenrir looked very composed, but she knew she was in trouble. He had his trousers on now, the formal ones that buttoned at the ankle, but the buttons were left open. He had bare feet, she actually had to tell herself to stop, as she stared at him. He looked so sexy in bare feet. But then her eyes followed his body up, no shirt, she suddenly felt guilty for wearing his, and then back up to his face. His eyes glowered into hers.

“I was hungry,” she mumbled trying to prise herself from the sink. God, she was going to need a giant shoehorn. Finally she managed to push herself out of the deep sink, and she hopped down onto the floor. He simply stared at her, and she wished he wouldn’t. Hermione still felt naked, - scrutinized under his gaze. “Can I have something to eat?” It was almost a whisper. It was true though, her stomach growled at the mention of food – she hadn’t eaten in 24 hours.

He nodded and gestured towards the cupboards, and walked out of the room. She felt relieved; the werewolf’s presence scared her. She searched the kitchen cupboards but couldn’t find anything at all to eat. She eyed up a fruit bowl on the table filled with some very squishy apples. She grimaced but took one anyway, just as he walked back into the room and sat down. In silence she took the apple to the sink and washed it, before chomping into it thoughtfully.

Fenrir watched her every move. He leaned over the table, setting both his elbows down, his hands reached to his head where he ran them over his greasy hair. Hermione observed him carefully, without his acknowledgment. It was strange; observing a mass murderer. But a funny kind of strange, she felt special knowing that people did not often get this close to him. Her eyes ran over his torso, his chest was hairy but not extremely. It was more of a thin fuzzy cover than big curly masses, and it didn’t cover the whole of his chest. Only the broadest part, and then it stopped at his ribs and started again after his bellybutton but it was darker - a small black trail leading off down to his trousers getting wider on the way down. Her eyes swept over his arms and shoulders, his biceps were bigger than Charlie Weasley's – and that’s saying something. His shoulders were broad, and she could see the tip of a tattoo but from where she was standing she could see no more.

She walked around the table, the apple still in her hand, until she was behind him. She reached into the cupboard to get a glass, as a ruse of course. Fenrir looked over his shoulder to see what she was doing, and then looked away again satisfied. She turned around and bit into her apple loudly. The tattoo was of a chaos star; interesting. He had a few lower down too, she turned her head to one side to see them but he turned suddenly to look at her and she dropped the glass she was holding. “Oops, sorry,” she mumbled quickly as he got up.

Fenrir growled, as he stood up. But a smirk crept onto his face as the witch bent down to scoop up the broken glass. His shirt was definitely too big for her, it billowed open as she bent over and he couldn’t help but get a glance of her pert breasts. He could take her right here if he wanted to. But he restrained himself, Merlin knows why. That little wench had been trying to escape, but he had already seen to it that she wouldn’t. He hadn’t had his fun with her yet. It had only started.

Hermione placed the broken shards on the table, not knowing what else to do with them. She looked up at Fenrir, her fear had subsided for now. Thoughts of yesterday came back to haunt her, and this morning too. Now she felt the urge to hit him. And why? WHY was this an awkward silence? Several seconds passed and she had to speak out or she would burst. “Will you let me go?” It seemed a bit of a stupid question, but she had no idea why he would be keeping her here in the first place. What did he possibly actually want from her?

He shook his head, and the plaits in his beard shook from side to side. He was now leaning against the doorframe, one foot against it; watching her with a perverse grin. He stared at her emotionless, but as they locked eyes Hermione could feel tears welling up in hers. She wished he would look away. “Why did you rape me?” she burst out into fresh sobs. He just stood there, not smirking, not looking boastful but yet not looking guilty – he looked completely emotionless still watching her. She threw herself at him, pummelling her fists into his chest, unafraid now of what he could do to her; she was too distraught to care.

He gave a bark-like laugh, as her fists made no impression on him. She aimed a fist at his face but he was too tall, it still clipped his chin though, and he growled menacingly. He stepped backwards into the hallway and she followed kicking him and punching his chest. The agony of everything that had happened to her the night before came back. Not the physical pain, but how she felt. He ruined everything she sought to keep special; she had been waiting until she was married. Not because of religion, or anything like that she just thought it special to keep and give to someone she cared about - (They were at the stairs now and Fenrir lost his footing on one step and landed on his back and she pounced on him) - And now, he took that from her. He took what she was meant to give – (she aimed a punch as hard as she could at his face).

“You ruined me,” she cried throwing her fists at his face. “You ruined me,” she repeated in a fit of sobs. He slithered backwards out of her grasp and bounded up the stairs. But she followed in a rage, “You’re a monster!” she screamed, she punched him in the spine as she caught up. “I HATE YOU!” They were in the bedroom now, Hermione stumbled and fell, and Fenrir laughed heartily as he stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him. She could still here him laughing from the other side as she sobbed on the floor.

****

He left her there for the whole day, but it was fine by her. She didn’t want to see him ever again, but as she was being held hostage by him she knew it was doubtful. Hermione had used the day to tidy herself up; she stunk to high heaven and spent a full hour in the shower scrubbing the grime off her. Physically and mentally. After that she had looked in all the drawers for clothes but they were empty, so reluctantly she adorned his shirt again.

She lay on the bed looking up at the hangings above, Ginny would be dead worried about her, and Ron...maybe. She tried not to think about them, it was too heart-breaking. Instead she recalled what she had read in the werewolf book. The witch honestly had no idea when the next full-moon was, but she hoped it wasn’t soon. She rolled on to her side, and pouted. What she wouldn’t give for Ron to come and rescue her.

****

A/N:Heeeey did you like that one? Review n’ rate guys :D Thanks!

Why the Lyrics: Hmm, I guess I chose these too show how much he really hurt Hermione :D rawers.

I Foresee: Is that lemons I see?

*Lyrics - Nickelback Woke up this morning
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Savage Seduction