Disclaimer: I don't own anything at all about this story! I don't own the characters, the plot for the most part, or even the settings.

At first this was a Shrek-inspired story and rather funny… then I edited and kept going and this is the product.

Warning: language, slash, sexual themes, violence, gore… offensive talking/behavior. General bad people stuff.

(**)

The dungeons was a cold, dripping place with large executioners standing at the corners, heavy swinging axes in their hands and a dark hood on their heads. In the middle of the room was a table and on this table was a… gingerbread man. Yes, I shit you not, a gingerbread man was lying in the middle of the metal table with his hands glued down by melted sugar so he couldn't escape.

"Come on you guys, I'm just a gingerbread man! I don't know nothing, I swear it on my gumdrop buttons!" the gingerbread man pleaded for his sugary life.

"Your gumdrops mean nothing to me," a snake like voice answered nastily. The gingerbread man whimpered, his icing mouth turning down in a frightened frown while he yanked desperately at the melted sugar holding him down. The mug attached to the ugly voice was just as hideous! The man-snake hybrid thing was something about of a Stephen King book with a bald white head and glowing red eyes, a distinct lack of a nose and sharp yellow nails. This horrible snake-man leaned close to him, sharp gleaming teeth apparent to his candy dot eyes.

"Okay, I'll tell you anything you want to know, just close your mouth!" the gingerbread man pleaded loudly. The man-snake smirked and backed away although the gingerbread man had the vague idea that the man thought he was scared of his sharp teeth rather than the rotten-mice smell coming from his mouth. It was deadly and the gingerbread man refused to die because of bad breath.

"Give me the secrets that I wish for!" the man narrowed his eyes in a way that might have been malicious had the gingerbread man hadn't been thinking the muffin man on Dreary lane—that fucker owed him sixty gold coins for that fight last week.

"I just… why did you have to steal me? I haven't seen Fred and George in months!" the gingerbread man whined, taking his money off the bet and focusing on the task at hand. Fred and George were his creators and had instilled him with bits of their personalities and well, they made him a talking gingerbread man which was an accomplishment that no one had succeeded with yet.

"Tell me the SECRET!" the man bellowed, leaning close once more. The gingerbread man flinched and let out a choked sob as he tried to stop the sugary bile that began in his poor cookie tummy. He opened his mouth to string together some kind of bullshit that the man would want to hear if only to get him out of his face. This was made null and void as the door was suddenly thrown open and bright light blinded everyone momentarily.

"My Liege, we have found it!" a masked man called urgently. The snake-man hybrid let out a smirk that truly sent shivers down the gingerbread's back but he did recall that the man was actually King Voldemort which was nice to know… if only it got him out of there quicker. King Voldemort turned on his heel and gestured impatiently.

"Bring it in, you fool."

'It' turned out to be a woman with huge glasses, frizzy brown hair and an expression that said she was unquestionably lost. She was escorted down the stairs in short pushes, nearly tripping over her retina damaging shawls and scarfs and other fashion backward items.

"So you're Sybill the Seer?" Voldemort observed her with doubt in his eyes.

"No she's not!" the gingerbread man blurted desperately. How had she gotten captured? It had taken a lot of work and hassle to make sure the old wench stayed where she was but noooooo, she just had to get herself in this dank dungeon! Voldemort hadn't even bothered to glance back at him, obviously hearing the lies in his cookie throat.

"Sybill the Seer, what do you hear?" Voldemort half mocked out the incantation that would cause the woman to tap into her power. He glided closer to her as she became stiff and she fell dramatically to the floor. She let out a gasps and moans, shivering in her shawls although no one seemed very concerned if she hurt herself on the ground.

"What is it that you desire to know, King Voldemort?" the woman in a deep, eerie voice that echoed but was almost ineffective as she continued to make odd noises and flop around on the ground.

"I have jewels, a kingdom with power that no one has ever dreamed of and yet… I find that I am still not happy. Tell me how to fix this," Voldemort demanded. It was dangerous for his thoughts to be this unfocused and unhappy, it would make him slip and fall before the blade of an enemy. Sybill the Seer went still and silent, obviously going into the spirit world before she drew a deep breath.

"What you need, My Liege, is a princess!" she intoned in heaving breaths, jumping to her feet. She reached inside her robes and suddenly threw down a powder, showing a picture of a relatively young woman lying with a glass coffin of some sorts with seven midgets surrounding her. Voldemort idly noted that they all had flaming red hair with the dead woman having a more subdued color.

"Here is Princess Molly, trapped in a cursed sleep where true love's kiss where awaken her. She likes to cook and taking care of her seven children!" Sybill the Seer introduced the first woman.

"Seven KIDS!?" the gingerbread man gasped and then realized that the seven 'midgets' were actually kids! Voldemort's face twisted in disgust at the very thought of being around children in general especially if they weren't from his own loins. Besides, how many true loves did the wench need when her legs are spread easier than peanut butter? (Nice burn! Voldemort congratulated himself). Sybill the Seer half glared then moved on to create another illusion, this one of what appeared to be another woman but this one was a blond. She leaned against a tower's window, her facial expression stating that she was obviously sad but still oh so beautiful as her perfect blue eyes stared up at whatever caught her fancy.

"Contestant number two is Princess Narcissa who was ban—," before the frizzy haired seer could continue Voldemort thrust out his hand. This was the princess that he wanted. She was so painstakingly beautiful and obvious in need of someone to control her. It might help that she didn't need him to be there to make her able unlike a certain red haired princess.

"Her! I'll take her," Voldemort said firmly. Sybill the Seer opened her mouth to object or to give him some kind of warning that Voldemort couldn't exactly say he cared about. He gave her a glare so hot that she flinched back and began to stammer out where Voldemort could find the princess. Apparently she was trapped in a tower far away, on the top of a volcano with a large monster guarding her.

Now the only problem that Voldemort had was finding a way to get her without actually leaving his kingdom in case someone had the bright idea to attack. Then a smile crept across his mutated face. Shivers ran down backs almost immediately and several let out a high pitched screams as they fainted at such a horrendous sight but pants would have been pissed on had they heard his dastardly thoughts of pure evil.

(**)

Fenrir Greyback awoke with a smile on his face. It was a natural reaction to having the best life known to mankind. He had a beautiful home secluded in the 'Forbidden Forest' although why anyone thought it was dangerous was up in the air. Sure there was him, a man that could turn into a ferocious beast at a drop of a silver piece, a few creatures that didn't like to be startled and perhaps a vicious wizard that would tear off someone's face if his privacy was invaded. Speaking of a vicious wizard and the second thing that put a smile on his face…

"Huh?" a look of confusion came to the scruffy man's face as he rolled over and faced emptiness. His lover of three blissful years wasn't in the bed which immediately set off bells within Fenrir's mind. It was a well-known fact that Severus was not a morning person. In fact, it had taken months for Fenrir to develop the speed he needed to dodge the hexes his lover would spit at any interruption to his sleeping schedule. However, it had only taken him a few weeks to realize that Severus would allow an early awakening should it be done via nipping bites and mind blowing fellatio. That had been Fenrir's plan when he blinked open his eyes and felt what nature thought of his lustful dreams.

"Severus?" Fenrir called, listening to the silence that greeted him. Now that was odd, there were only a few reasons as to why Severus wouldn't answer him and he had been doubly sure not to anger the prissy little potions fanatic so that couldn't be it. It could also be that he was in his laboratory.

Ignoring his morning wood that would likely stab someone's eye out if not taken care of was something that Fenrir was not familiar with doing but it was for the greater good of having some hot ass around it instead of his hand. He rolled out of the large bed and landed on his feet, straightening to his tall height—and he truly was a tall man—and began to stalk through their home. He took a deep breath once he reached the living room, his barrel of a chest rising as the air rushed through his nostrils. Faintly, he could smell cooked food. A perverted smirk crawled its way on his face, bright blue eyes darkening with lust. He so loved to fuck Severus right against the kitchen sink but he had to catch him by surprise lest the man convinced him to take the shag to their bedroom.

"Who in the FUCK are you!?" Fenrir demanded with a nasty growl. He looked at the man sitting at his kitchen table, a fork lifted with a pile of eggs on it in an obvious trail to his mouth. He definitely wasn't his mate what with that snooty expression on his masculine face and the wine red hair that reminded the ever friendly Fenrir of spilled blood.

The unknown man put down the fork and slowly wiped his mouth with a silk handkerchief as though Fenrir wasn't there then he began to clean his hands with the air of a man in obvious need of a good fuck. Fenrir definitely wouldn't be the one to provide it but he could cut off the bastard's limbs and shove them right up his ass—that should provide enough stimulation.

"Your little wife makes a wonderful meal," the man taunted absently. Fenrir stalked forward and wrapped his large hand around the prissy (and not his mate's kind of prissy that he enjoyed) man's tanned neck, cutting off whatever words he was going to say afterwards.

This bastard not only insulted his mate but had the audacity to eat the meal that said mate prepared him!? Fenrir split the bastard from pelvic to throat with only his nails. The man pounded pathetically at him, blood falling everywhere and gurgles of pain and death leaving his closed off throat. It was only by the luck of the Gods that the wined haired man hadn't thought of kicking Fenrir directly in his raging erection. If he had done that… well, he would have lived longer but not in the way he would have wanted.

"Fucking idiot," he scoffed and dropped the weakly twitching (soon to be dead) man, giving him a good kick in the ribs with his now blood covered feet. Then he plopped down on the wooden chair to eat the rest of the breakfast. The other hadn't actually gotten that far, fucking pansy probably couldn't scarf down a real man's breakfast, and it wasn't cold which meant that Severus either used a status spell or he had just recently left. Hm, or this fucker kidnapped his mate and had stayed back to explain the ransom. He doubted that was the case especially seeing as Severus was about as hard to subdue as he was and twice as spiteful.

Then Fenrir spotted the note in Severus' familiar sharp handwriting only a couple of inches from the salt. He grabbed the paper and held it at an appropriate length to read it while still gobbling down the delicious pork bacon.

Fenrir, as you have probably realized, I am not there at the present moment. What you probably do not know is that I doused you with a sleeping draught that should allow me to come back before you awaken but due to your different metabolism, I highly doubt it. It is not that I feel the need to explain myself but rather if you disturb me during this delicate state in harvesting, I shall soon find myself with a lovely throw rug. I am serious Wolf. Do NOT bother me until I return home if you wish to keep your libido sated. I also expect the house to be as cleaned as I left it: spotless in other words. On another note, I love you and shall see you sometime in the evening.

Severus

Fenrir reread the message again, making sure that it wasn't forged nor had some clue for Fenrir to follow if Severus had been kidnapped while making breakfast (and to understand certain threats seeing as he admittedly wasn't the brightest man in the world) but no, it seemed to be on the up and up. He snorted at his foolish thought of someone actually kidnapping that vicious firecracker he called his mate. It was outrageous just to think about.

On his way to toss the dishes into the sink, he nearly tripped over his unwanted guest, abruptly remembering the fucker was there. And that brought up a serious problem. Although Severus's bite was much worse than his bark, there weren't a lot of threats he carried out when he spat them at Fenrir. However, there was one serious threat that always got Fenrir to dance around like a trained poodle and that was the threat of getting blue balls. If Fenrir wanted to get laid in the next week then he'd clean up the blood and get rid of the body.

(**)

Fenrir sat up and wiped the sweat he had worked up off his forehead. He had taken care of the body by giving it to the huge talking plant that Severus had in their backyard (the entire forest was their backyard but this particular plant was only a couple of yards behind their house). It had been absolutely giddy at the prospect of a relatively fresh kill and had started gobbling the corpse down with its razor sharp teeth before Fenrir had even stepped away. At the very least it was too busy to start singing.

However, now that that was done and the floor had been scrubbed of all the blood that wasn't a permanent stain he was dreadfully bored. Without Severus in the house to keep him entertained (sexed up) there wasn't much for him to do which led to the brilliant idea to go outside and stretch his limbs. It wouldn't do for him to lose the muscled physique that made Severus swoon at the very sight of him. Okay Severus didn't swoon but he did get a feral look in his dark eyes and practically became a wanton bitch in heat when Fenrir stepped into a room free of clothing.

And so Fenrir stepped outside in the shining sun and took off at a quick run, not bothering to change forms. This was a time to remain human on the off chance that his other form would forget about the ban to Severus's harvesting and decided to go hump the man thus banishing him to the lumpy couch for a week and maybe losing a bit of his tail.

By the time Fenrir was done running around and terrorizing several adventurous hikers, the sun was setting which was fine by Fenrir. He was ready to eat a good meal, toss his mate onto a wall and fuck his pale body until it flushed red. Fenrir felt his penis twitch as the thought of finally tapping the ass that he had been waiting since morning to tap. It would be a spectacular show of sweating bodies, prostate pounding induced screams and skin slapping skin.

"Are you fucking kidding me!?" Fenrir growled as he spotted the obvious group of people 'hiding' behind a few bushes and boulders. Was the universe against his need to tap his mate's ass or was this karma getting him back for his brief stint of insanity in his early days? Never mind that, he was either going to kill these fuckers or… well, killing them was the only thing he could think of but he was sure to get some creative ideas. With these hateful thoughts in mind, Fenrir dropped down into a half crouch and made his way stealthily over to the group.

(**)

"Okay, for those of you who have no idea why you're here… well, I'd rather you stay in the back or something because the last thing I want is to end up dying," Ron started as he cast looks at his men. He was the strategist of this little shindig and he'd be damned if his head went on a platter because these people were idiots. He would honestly feel better with his normal partners but they had caught a bad case of the Chicken Flu.

"Don't be a berk Ron, just refresh some of our memories," Seamus waved a casual hand, propped against a boulder although he never took his eyes away from the cabin at least fifty meters away. The lights were on, signaling that someone was in there but they needed a solid plan for this particular mission.

"Oh fine," Ron pouted a bit, "Our King, the lovely man that he is, has decided that he wants us to stall this Fenrir Greyback guy for as long as possible. I'm sure it has something to do with his little 'get a princess to marry' plan but I could be wrong. Our mission is to safely capture and detain this man without hurting him. Anyone has a question? Yes Neville?"

"Did… did you say Fenrir Greyback?" the nervous looking man bit into his lip and shifted hesitantly. Ron wasn't actually sure why the man had been called in for this particular job but he supposed that he couldn't complain considering how many people had bowed out or simply ran the other way at even the mention of the couple in the woods.

"Yes, Fenrir Greyback and yes, he might just live up to his legends seeing as the messenger sent to calmly collect him never came back," Ron sighed. He rather liked Rabastan Lestrange when he wasn't being a complete arse and he had been a fantastic lay. Alas, it seemed that he would be going back to Hermione.

"I heard that he killed seventeen Aurors without turning into his werewolf form," Neville whispered, his brown eyes darting from the house and to their leader's face.

"I heard that his lover is an evil, crazy wizard that feeds him potions to keep him under control," Pansy folded her arms snottily over her ample bosom. Honestly, why had they allowed a woman out here in the first place, he would never know. Of course, he would never allow Hermione to catch wind of his sexist thoughts lest he be hexed from Hell and back.

"I heard that he likes to infect anyone that comes to his property," another voice added.

"Where did you…?" Ron's eyes widened as he came to the slow realization that there was an extra in their group. His mouth immediately went dry and he pulled out his wand, pointing it at the man but he already knew that it would do no good. As a collective group, they backed away from the man, their eyes taking in everything at once.

He was huge with rippling muscles and a hairy chest that they could clearly see through his straining shirt. Eyes that were an unnatural, almost wolf-like blue gazed out at them with malicious intent while his lips curled up to reveal yellowed, unnaturally sharp teeth. His long brown hair hung in wild tendrils in his face while a short, rather scruffy beard completed his dangerous psycho look that shouted to anyone not blind, deaf, and dumb 'I'M FENRIR GREYBACK AND I WILL EAT YOU!'

"Now what was this I heard about a King?" Fenrir growled, hands curling into claw like hooks.

"Ah, my good sir! I am Sir Nicolas de Mimsy-Porpington. Our King has sent—," Nicolas's words were cut off by his sudden lack of a head. It wasn't completely off, just hanging on the side with a thin patch of muscle and skin keeping it on his shoulders. His eyes blinked reflexively and his body ran around like… well, like a chicken without its head.

"HOLY SHIT, I'm out of here!" Seamus shouted, turning tail and running off. The rest of the capture team did the same, having self-preservation ingrained in their bodies despite the punishment that they were likely to receive once they returned to their King unsuccessful.

Fenrir was too busy rushing to his house, no longer worried about the fucking idiots that had tried to take him. He burst through the door, ignoring the fact that he had literally broken the door and rushed through it, breaking into his lover's Potions lab only to turn up empty handed. Panic started to settle in the man's chest, and it was all he could do to not simply crumple where he was. No, he had to stay strong, he had to find Severus and hopefully make it in time to save him from capture. 'Think you great oaf!' Fenrir's inner voice snapped in a voice that was painfully akin to Severus'. Okay… okay, harvesting! Severus said that he was harvesting and would be back at sunset but where was he harvesting!?

"Oh, unh! Deep—harder! W-what did you say? My harvesting? Yes, right there! Why are you interested in that… are you feeling sentimental and worried about my wellbeing?"

"Stop being an uptight little bitch and just tell me or I'll stop fucking ya."

"I highly doubt that you can stop thinking with your penis, you lecherous beast… the ingredients I harvest during the full moon or at dawn are normally by the Lake. Do well to not trample anything in those areas while you are trotting around. Dammit, put your back into it!"

Fenrir pulled himself out of his memories and immediately shifted, his bones rearranging with sickening cracks and muscles flowing to better suit him. Thick, dark fur sprouted from his skin, his teeth lengthened and feral blue eyes turned even more animalistic. Fenrir let out a great howl for the rising moon and launched out of his house, much faster in his larger wolf form. The wolf's mind was in more turmoil than Fenrir was, thoughts of its mate lying in a puddle of his blood, broken and holding out a hand for Fenrir to save him from his attackers hounded the protective beast.

It was worse than anything either of them could imagine. There was nothing there but ravaged land, scorch marks on the ground, trampled plants and Severus's harvesting bag. And blood. The iron smell rushed up Fenrir's sensitive nose and nearly caused him to stumble back but he couldn't. He could only turn his large head to the moon and howl out his distress.

SEVERUS!

(*Bonus*)

"What do you mean that you failed!?" the man hissed, slamming his fist onto the golden thrown he sat on. He glared red eyes down at the quivering fools kneeling before him, eyes averted and heads bowed except one that stared back at him.

"My King, he tore Nicolas's head off his neck without giving a single warning and I am sure that he has already found that you took his lover so you won't be happy if you sent us back," Pansy, the only woman of this team answered in leveled tones. The King paused and took on a thoughtful look, his mind slowly unraveling new plans.

"You say he tore off his head?" he tilted his pale, bald head to the side.

"In one pull… well he's not completely headless but close enough," Ron, the captain, gulped as he recalled the dangling sinewy and muscles that held the loose head with its eyes still blinking and mouth still moving. It was all he could do in that situation to not piss and shit himself as he ran for dear life. At the very least Harry and Hermione hadn't been subjected to that horror but it was definitely something that was going to keep him up for the next six years or so.

"My Liege, could you perhaps tell us as to why…?" Neville tried to ask why the man had sent them in the first place, why their king had stolen the evil wizard and planned on stealing the evil wizard's pet werewolf but it was cut off as the tall, skeletal man pushed himself to his feet in a flurry of heavy robes and shining jewelry. Had it not been for the fact that he'd be executed, Neville might have noted aloud that their King looked more like a Dark Lord than anything else. As it were, Neville wasn't as dumb as he appeared so he kept silent and tried to not scream as the man strode past them quickly and left the throne room.

"I suppose he couldn't dismiss us a little less subtly," Seamus joked good-naturedly, pushing himself to his feet. At the very least their heads were rolling across the ground so it was a perfect end to the day. Although he wondered if someone should go get Nicolas's body.

(**)

To Be Continued

So yeah, that's the first chapter. There's something about this whole idea that I don't like but… I couldn't get this out of my head!

P.S. No One is Related Unless Thoroughly Expressed… or if they're twins…