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Mourning's Doves	By : Remarkable Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 22885 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to the Harry Potter series or its affiliates and make no money from the publication of this fic. Damn, huh?

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
*bows down to the readers and Glomps the reviewers* You guys ROCK!! Glad the last chappy was a hit. I must say, things get bumpier before they get - non-bumpy. However. It is a happy ending, even if it is not the one *you* (general you) want it to be. It's just how it ended up..... w/o further ado. Hold onto your wands!

Chapter 6

Less than two days before the full moon. It had never been like this for any of them. Their wolves were apparent, fully having taken over their human, conscious minds.

Remus had disappeared while they were sleeping. Hermione was confused and afraid. The lacking awareness of their bold leader made her anxious, but she still felt safe with Severus, even though she was still a bit put out about how he'd tried to jog her elusive memories. She continued to rest, eat and beg him for sex.

Severus wasn't doing so well. Pining for his Alpha, his wolf was lost, wandering in a myriad of distressing emotions that was even more hurtful for his wolf to handle, since the human side wasn't good with dealing with emotion to being with.

Hermione tried her best to assuage his fears, cooing and licking him all over. Severus curled in on himself, whining, tears leaking from his eyes. His mind kept replaying the lovemaking and declaration of affections from his Alpha. Only once was he aroused enough to halfheartedly take the female, and only then because his instincts demanded he respond to her overpowering pheromones.

Hermione half gave up eventually. Curled around the only male form available, she began singing in a soft, lilting voice that helped Severus drift to sleep. Even though his dreams were troubled, her words and soothing presence were a balm to his battered soul.

–

Mooney honed in on a northern territory pack as if the very hounds of hell were on his heels. It was as if twenty years plus of ignoring and fighting and restraining the low, instinctual howl that beckoned him to his own Sire, finally came to the fore and allowed him to zero in on the location that bore him this illness.

He skidded to a panting, salivating halt in front of the recess in the rock. A faint glow emanated, the heat blazing forth in rivulets that looked like water against the backdrop of muddled night surrounding the entrance.

A short bark sounded a warning and two others answered. In unison, three men raced in, wands out and muttering epithets.

“Halt! Who goes there!” came the cry of one, who obviously had been extremely lax in his duty.

Mooney chuckled, cracking his neck and shrugging. His own wand was lax in his fingers, twirling about. He ignored the swearing and growled rumblings from the men just out of reach. They could have easily hexed him, but he knew each one by scent, if not their name. While it was unusual for him to visit without Owling first, it was not unheard of. Their mutterings had more to do with the blatant arousal of his wolf at the fore. Remus was never so cavalier.

“Whatcha' want, man?” the casual voice of Frank Eustuce called from inside the outcropping, popping his head out and doing up his zip. A man, on all fours behind him, lay panting against the rock, held up by a mound of furs he'd dragged along.

Mooney sneered. “I'm looking for Fenrir. Place practically stinks of him.”

“Gone. Left a few hours ago. Whatcha want with him, man?” Frank was a good sort, if extremely rough around the edges.

Mooney shrugged, then grinned. “I'm here to kill him.”

Muffled shouts and exclamations erupted from the men, more bodies having heard the calls of others and come to investigate.

Frank held up his hand to stay the others, cocking his head curiously, but not bothering to draw his own wand. As leader of this particular pack, he could sense Mooney would not attack if not provoked.

“That's a pretty serious claim ye' be layin',” he grunted, spitting off to one side.

“It's not a claim; it's a fact. Just point me in the direction of his travels and I'll be on my way.”

“Can't you use your nose, man?” Frank questioned, eyes narrowing. What game was this wolf playing?

Mooney smirked, eyes whirling with mischief. “My nose, Frank? Come now, we all know you're not a very good liar.”

This made Frank bristle visibly. “I 'aint never lied to you! Look around, sniff all you want! He 'aint here, I be tellin' ye'!”

The breeze shifted and the clear, pungent stench of unwashed Alpha spread through the half clearing, half rocky protection they were on.

“What the bloody-” Frank exclaimed, now drawing his wand with lightening fast reflexes as Fenrir Greyback bounded into sight, one second a snarling mass of brute-man, the next crashing on top of Mooney, ready in a fighting stance to absorb the bigger man's blows.

“I'll be damned!” Frank muttered, gesturing for the others to back off. “Let'em 'ave it out! Taint none of our business!” he called out, even as he stood warily, guarding his pack in case either turned on his charges.

Fenrir had tried to get the drop on Mooney. The fucking wolf had been nothing but a wimpy piece of shit for years, and now he wanted to have it out? Well, there were plenty before him and would be plenty after him to teach a hard lesson to. Fenrir would have no mercy. This whelp would pay with his very life, and then Fenrir would hunt down the rogue mutt this little shit had made and kill him too.

Snarling and snapping, the two men, one large and brutish, the other strong and wiry, rolled head over heels in the dirt, rocks and grass.

They came apart, wands drawn, then in time honored tradition, both flung them away as they grappled physically for dominance. It was the only way to settle the unspoken challenge. The wolves would not accept anything less.

Fenrir reached in quickly with his claw-like fingers to scratch out the offender's eyes. Mooney reared back, dropping forward and up with his knee to the other man's crotch, only to have Fenrir loop his hand quickly under the knee and jerk upwards sharply. Mooney caught the upswing and flipped in place.

The sharp intake of breath at his impressive reflexes had the bystanders all rethinking the lethal potential of Mooney's fighting ability.

Fenrir snarled, bending at the waist to head-butt Mooney, catching and carrying him about fifteen yards before Mooney bear-hugged Fenrir's back, reaching around and snapping into his side.

The old Alpha howled in pain, shaking vigorously to get the other wolf off of him and failing. Remus hung on as Fenrir tried to stand and spin around to dislodge him. Fenrir failed, the agony too much to bear as a huge chunk of his side was pulled from his body.

Blood poured from the wound, earning growls of approval from their onlookers.

“Going to fucking kill you for that!” he growled, favoring his gushing side heavily, already slowing and limping.

“You're getting fat and lazy in your old age, Fenrir,” taunted Mooney, circling his slowing prey with bloodlust evident in his eyes.

“You impudent whelp! Do you know who you're talking to?”

“Yes, a washed-up, dried-out Death-Eater has-been. It's a wonder no one's taken you down before this. Probably all afraid of your reputation, but as we can all see, your bark is far worse than your bite.”

This earned a round of raucous laughter from Frank's small pack.

“Going to teach you a lesson!” Fenrir raged, darting in, jaws and claws spread wide to rend the cocksucker limb from limb, only to find empty air in front of him, causing him to stumble heavily onto his knees.

“Fucking hell!” he muttered, trying to stagger to his feet even as Mooney lunged in from the side, crushing the thick wolf's neck in his jaws and puncturing his jugular, snapping the head from side to side like a dog worrying a toy.

Mooney pulled back, sneering as Fenrir stared at him in shocked incredulity, hands forgetting the wound at his side in favor of the fatal one pouring from his ruined neck.

Mooney leaned in, panting hard, face full of death and blood. “Do you know why I've come to kill you, old friend?” he mocked, not expecting an answer. “This is my revenge, not for myself, but for that of a sweet girl who's life you've ruined, to release her from the call of your diseased soul so she can find love and a true claim in a pack that loves her.”

“Fucking... Bitch... Granger...” gargled Fenrir, his eyes rolling back in his head as his thick body fell sideways to the ground, dead.

Mooney pulled back, satisfied, and gestured nonchalantly to the body. “Do with him as you will. My work here is done.”

Collecting his wand, the sounds of Frank's pack tearing apart the body of one of their brethren did nothing to assuage the sluggish torrent of change pulsing deep within the heart of his lycanthropic cells. It was near his time.

---

Two more chapters to go. Let me know your thoughts. xxoo
- 5
- 6
- 7
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Mourning's Doves