Inspired by the Halloween Prompt in the Death Eater Express:
Contains adult themes, but not gore... ;) and no, I did not edit this. It's after midnight here and I'm exhausted. This was just for fun. Oh, and I own nothing and the aesthetic I used was taken from google, but I think Emma is wearing Alexander McQueen. Stylish girl!
The red wine swirled in the glass, courtesy of her hand moving in a circle. The color reminded her of blood, the life spilled during the battle of Hogwarts, the loss of her baby before it could ever take a full breath, the loss of Ron. Hermione Granger swallowed the rest of the glass, ignoring the slight sting that came from downing a glass. She shifted, fluffing out the red silk cloak around the barstool and straightening the white chiffon skirt of her dress before pushing the glass forward for the bartender to refill.
She hadn't planned on staying this long in America after the brutal divorce that she went through. She was stuck though, emotionally and physically, and now in a dead end job working for MACUSA of all places. She was good at paper pushing, researching, and learning. What she wasn't good at was tolerating the bullshit that came with her job. Tired of witches either hero worshipping her or rejecting her out of jealousy; Hermione opted to spend Halloween the muggle way. Or, no-maj way; dressing up in a costume and getting smashed. The people surrounding her seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely. One girl dressed up as a cat was downing whiskey like it was going out of stock and Hermione knew it was a matter of time before she barfed all over the bar. Another couple kept dancing in and out of the crowd, bringing beers to their party on the far end of the dance floor. The one man that was dressed as a werewolf had attempted to do a striptease for Hermione but was promptly thrown out of the bar as soon as he started going for his underwear.
She couldn't complain about the evening, but her attempts to temporarily forget the wizarding world were filled with a sense of 'blah'. Ever since the miscarriage she experienced with Ron and the multiple fertility issues that resulted in the aftermath, Hermione felt less than and Ron's response of filing for a divorce when the healers announced that he had a low sperm count was the last straw. Hermione applied for a temporary visa to work in the United States and never looked back with the exception of Harry and Ginny.
That had been three years ago and now... now she was on her second glass of wine with the plan to have at least two more. The bartender refilled her glass and Hermione flashed him a smile before she began sipping at the drink. She was jostled to the side slightly when another patron sat down right next to her, overwhelming her space, and causing her nose to wrinkle in irritation. That irritation quickly turned to horror when the person spoke.
"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes, muggle-born." The gruff but very much British sounding voice said, making Hermione close her eyes in dread. Fenrir Greyback was supposed to be dead or missing. Not sitting in a bar in the countryside of Massachusetts. Her hand inched towards her wand, hidden in the cloak of red.
"Ah, ah, little witch. No need for that. We're playing nice tonight." Fenrir patted the hand that she had resting on her glass, "Don't want to ruin the muggle's evening with a battle to the death. Besides, we're both here for pleasure." The bartender came forward, asking for Fenrir's order before retreating. Hermione kept her head facing forward.
"Why are you here?" she asked, gripping the stem of her wine glass like a lifeline.
"Getting out, seeing the world, before I return to the pack back home," said Fenrir.
"To eat more children? Or to try and assist some madman to take over Britain?" Hermione brought the wine glass to her lips, hoping for some liquid courage. She sloshed the wine out of the glass when Fenrir released a roaring laugh.
"Neither. Though I do fancy having a bit of flesh tonight. Are you up for it?"
Shocked, Hermione finally looked at the man. He didn't look like a werewolf tonight. He just looked... wild; like he belonged in the woods. She opened her mouth to respond but immediately shut it when she saw the huge grin on his face. Where was her Gryffindor courage now?
"I'm not going to let you eat me, Greyback," Hermione whispered before gulping. She never imagined him being this handsome when he wasn't half transformed.
"Just a nibble, little witch. I promise it'll be fun." His whiskey came and he downed it in one gulp. "Here, drink your wine. I promise I'm not going to maul you like I did to that Lavender Brown chit. The war is over. I've got other things on my mind."
Hermione flushed an angry red, "how dare you bring that up! Her family was devastated!"
Fenrir shrugged, "war is war, little witch and I can't deny my instincts. You of all people know this, championing for the rights of magical creatures and all."
Hermione stared at him for a long minute, trying to assess what his game was.
"You know about that?" She asked quietly. No one seemed to care that she fought for equality amongst all sentient magical species as well as the better treatment of those that had no voice at all.
Fenrir grinned again, nodding to his wine glass, "I pay attention when it matters."
Again, Hermione flushed, this time from the flattery that Fenrir was heaping on her. She looked around at all the muggles in the bar, they were completely oblivious of the two beings that could bring the entire place crashing down on their heads if either of them decided to go for their wands.
"So, you know that the British Ministry of Magic rejected my ideas and that the MACUSA treats me like dirt unless they need a picture for the papers to boost morale? 'Oh look, a witch that assisted in saving Wizarding Britain has chosen to work for us'. It's ridiculous. I work for them because I couldn't stand to go home." Hermione huffed, taking a deep drink of her wine and letting it go to her head.
Fenrir motioned for more whiskey, "two glasses this time!"
The bartender slid the shots towards him. "You need something a bit stronger than wine, little witch," said Fenrir as he pushed the glass in front of Hermione.
She looked at the shot glass, knowing that if she took it she couldn't turn back. Not only was she sitting with a convicted murderer, but she was seriously considering getting hammered with him. It wasn't like she had anything interesting to go back to; she was tired of being the poster child of some political scheme and she was definitely tired of not being listened to or acknowledged.
"You still can't eat me, and I'll only take one," she said as she lifted the glass to her lips. Fenrir watched her with glittering eyes, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth before he picked at her cloak.
"What are you dressed as? Are you supposed to be Little Red Riding Hood? It's... enchanting," he said.
Hermione downed the shot to hide her surprise. The liquid warmed her insides as tingles shot up and down her spine at Fenrir's deep voice. Her mind couldn't go there, it would be the ultimate sin.
Hermione coughed and blinked up at the werewolf. "No, I'm the Big Bad Wolf. I'm guessing you're playing either a lumberjack or... you just really like leather and red flannel." Hermione poked at his leather jacket, stunned when he reached a warm hand up to hold hers.
Again, Fenrir laughed and again Hermione's spine tingled before spreading butterflies into her stomach. She was flirting with a werewolf! Of all the things that she imagined herself doing on Halloween, this was not one of them.
Fenrir kept holding her hand, "red is one of my favorite colors, you know."
"Oh, I didn't..." said Hermione faintly as she watched his thumb circle her palm. Merlin, were her knickers getting wet? Hermione shifted in her seat. Oh gods, he could probably smell the slight bit of arousal.
"Well, little witch, what do you say we take a walk in the woods? I promise to be on my best big bad wolf behavior." His eyes were soft as he looked at her, a genuine smile on his face. Hermione's heart fluttered while her mind cursed her for the decision she was about to make. She had to regain control of the situation.
"One condition, if I think you make one wrong move towards me, I get to apparate. No questions, no stalking. Nothing. We will never have contact again." Hermione sipped the last bit of her wine before setting the empty glass down. "Agreed?"
Fenrir's eyes glittered, "on my honor, I will let you go tonight after our walk. Who knows though, you may want to come back."
Hermione smirked, "we'll see about that."
Fenrir paid the tab and held his hand out to help Hermione off the barstool. "My lady."
"Oh, why thank you."
Outside the leaves still clung to the trees, varying in red and gold. The air was chilled, but a quick warming charm cast by Fenrir did the trick as he took her hand and led her down a path.
"It leads to a stream that backs up to thousands of acres of National Park land. I actually have been coming here for awhile. It's a good place to let the wolf run wild." Fenrir grinned through the dark, "not tonight though. Tonight we reconcile our differences."
Hermione smiled picking up her skirt and then gingerly stepped down the trail with Fenrir's assistance. The sound of her cloak trailing through the leaves, punctuated by the occasional owl hooting from the treetops, was their soundtrack until they reached the stream that Fenrir spoke of.
"Nice place, isn't it?" The werewolf said as he sat down on a large rock sticking out of the ground. Hermione joined him, barely able to see in the dark.
"I actually can't see much down here. But it's calm, so I like that." She put her chin on her fist, staring at where she assumed the water was based on the sound.
Fenrir scooted closer to her. "I'll describe it then. There are trees, large ones that have been here for centuries towering over us. Leaves are littering the soil. We're maybe ten feet from the river The clouds are blocking the night sky but the owls are out. You can hear them though." Fenrir took her other hand in his.
"I really do love the color red, Hermione Granger," he said softly, inhaling her scent.
Hermione was sure she was the color of her cloak, "I'm glad you like it... I guess..."
"I wish you could see how lovely you look like that." He leaned forward and brushed a stray curl behind her ears, "a bit like a goddess sent to tempt the wolf."
Hermione turned her head to look at Fenrir. His eyes glowed in the dark, but they were still soft and non-threatening. Merlin, she was being seduced by Fenrir Greyback. All reports she'd ever read or even heard about never mentioned this as a method of murder. Her mind went into overdrive as he leaned closer... but she still had her wand and if she wanted to she could leave.
Gods, she didn't want to.
"Am I tempting you, Fenrir Greyback?" she whispered.
"If I say yes, is that alright?" He murmured as his hands slid into her hair. His lips were getting closer and Hermione couldn't deny that she was thrilled to be doing something so wrong.
"Yes, it's alright," she said as her palm flattened against his chest.
Fenrir released a contented growl as he finally kissed Hermione. He was warm and surprisingly gentle. His kisses tasted of whiskey, making Hermione dart her tongue out to caress his bottom lip. Fenrir opened up to her, nipping at her lip as he reached under her cloak to run his hands over her back. A giggle escaped her throat as he found a ticklish spot just on her side. Hermione scooted forward, smiling against his lips as she straddled his lap, pulling the skirt of her dress up so she wouldn't rip it.
Fenrir slid his hands down Hermione's torso and under her dress, gliding his calloused palms towards her center. She gasped when he touched her, slowly rubbing her through her panties. Hermione bucked under his touch, whimpering against his lips.
"Gods, witch. You're wet for me." Fenrir pushed aside the cloth and inserted a finger into her slick heat.
Hermione moaned at the friction, nodding her agreement as lay her head on his shoulder, panting with each rocking motion. His cock was hard through his jeans and if she angled herself just right she could feel a decent portion of his length.
"Fenrir," she whispered as she planted kisses on his neck, "I need you."
The werewolf lifted her up, carrying her onto the grass before laying her out on her cloak. He ripped the silk tie of the garment, the ends fluttering to the ground around her, then fixed her with his gaze.
"No turning back, Hermione." He caressed her face, "you have your chance to apparate now."
Hermione contemplated how insane the decision she was about to make, but shoved the rational thoughts that always swirled through her head away. "I'm staying here." She reached towards his belt, unhooking the clasp, pulling down the zipper, and then releasing Fenrir's erection.
The werewolf groaned, shuddering as she stroked the length of him. His eyes pierced through the dark, his gaze unreadable before he reached down and tore her panties clean off.
Hermione shrieked, then started laughing, bringing her arms up to encircle his shoulders as he pushed her skirt up and pressed the head of his cock against her.
"Little witch," he murmured, planting gentle kisses on her neck. Hermione smiled into his shoulder as she moved her hips against him. Fenrir growled and impaled her on his length.
"Gods, Fenrir!" Hermione gasped as he rocked into her. She met his thrusts, small pants falling from her lips at the exertion. Shutting her eyes as he took her against, she let her body drift off in pleasure.
Small sparks began building in the pit of her stomach, causing her muscles to tighten around Fenrir. He groaned, picking up the pace.
Overhead, the moon appeared from behind the clouds. A blue moon that only happened a few times in a century. The orgasm built in both of them; Hermione unaware that her partner's fangs were dropping down into his mouth, or the nails digging into her skin as he pumped himself into her were fast becoming claws.
The sparks in Hermione's stomach exploded into an inferno as she came around him, screaming out his name. Fenrir groaned, bending down over the witch, his witch, and found his release.
"Mine," he whispered against her neck before he sunk his fangs into the sweet flesh of his chosen. Hermione's eyes opened wide as she came again, feeling him spill himself into her while her neck was gently ravaged by the wolf.
Overhead the moon looked down on her and Fenrir, smiling at the now mated wolves. Hermione stared in horror at the night sky before everything went black.
The witch collapsed beneath him, giving Fenrir one last chance to clean the blood off her neck with his tongue.
"Mine," he whispered again, before recasting the warming charm on both of them and settling in beside his Little Red Riding Hood, wrapping them both in the cloak. "Happy Halloween Hermione."
End.