Neville Longbottom sighed and walked through the halls of Hogwarts. Everything was in disarray, which was to be expected after the fierce battle; A battle that had ended in a strange twist of fate. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, had not been the one to defeat Voldemort. He had died and was carried back to Hogwarts, only to live again, but it had been Neville, who in a moment of rage and courage, surprised everyone and had driven the sword of Gryffindor through Voldemort's heart.

Now Neville was the Hero of the Wizarding World… and he hated it. For years, he had been ignored and suddenly he was the center of attention. Girls followed him like rabid dogs, the Prophet hounded him, blinding him with flashes of cameras. People spoke of him as reverently as they had once spoken of Harry. Everyone suddenly wanted to be his friend.

Harry, now a normal person in everyone's eyes, was overlooked and forgotten. He couldn't have been happier, now that he was able to live a normal life.

Neville stepped over a few large chunks of stone, blocking the path and slipped into an empty class room.

This used to be the Potion's Room. He realized, gently walking through abandoned cauldrons and broken bottles. Strange, he never thought he would ever find solace in the Potion's room.

A rustle and a low growl caught his attention as something shifted in a far corner, hidden by dim shadows.

"I-Is somebody there!" Neville called. His palms sweat as he gripped the smooth handle of his wand.

"Run, lost little wizard." a deep, menacing voice growled. Amber eyes glinted in the light as a huge, hulking shape stepped into the light.

It was a man, a tall man, with a large, muscular build. He had messy, dark silver hair, but couldn't have been older than 25. He had a rugged, animalistic look and wore only a pair of ragged, black jeans. He looked absolutely feral, with wolfish eyes and sharpened teeth.

"Y-you're… You're Fenrir Greyback."

"Yes, I am Greyback." The werewolf sneered. "Now leave."

"How did you survive the battle?"

"Easy, I didn't fight it. Voldemort was stupid enough to try and order me around like a well-trained dog, so I had my pack stand down. I was attacked by a red haired wizard, and then by a girl. When I returned the attack on the girl, I was stupefied from behind. I woke up and found my way here." Fenrir snarled. He stepped further into the light and Neville noticed that he was injured pretty badly. A large, gaping wound, like somebody had cut into him with some sort of blade or slicing spell, marred his side, and was still bleeding.

Neville began looking through the room, and examining the remaining, undamaged potions. Finally he held up a small, clear vile filled with a soft yellow liquid.

"Here let me…" He started, stepping closer to Fenrir, but the werewolf snarled and snapped, making Neville freeze.

"Don't touch me." Fenrir growled.

"You're injured; I'm just going to heal you." Neville replied. He set his wand down on a table and stepped forward again, slowly.

A low growl erupted from Fenrir's throat but he didn't move or bite at Nevile, so the boy carefully knelt beside the great wolf. He poured some of the potion onto his hands and rubbed it into the wound.

Fenrir snarled again, in pain and glared at Neville.

"Well it's your fault it hurts so much. You've left it to bleed out without cleaning it, and now it's infected." Neville scolded, unsure where the sudden burst of confidence came from.

The werewolf gave another snarl, but allowed Neville to continue his work.

"So you stopped fighting after Voldemort tried to order you around, but you were attacked and injured and ended up here."

"You're point?"

Neville poured more of the potion of the wound, which was beginning to close. Fenrir yelped and Neville chuckled,

"You're such a baby." he teased.

"Watch it, pup." Fenrir growled.

Neville stood up and Fenrir grabbed his hand, pulling to his mouth and began to clean the digits of the last few drops of potion; his rough tongue was hot against the calloused pads of Neville's fingers.

Neville blushed as Fenrir cleaned the potion away. When the wolf finally released him, Neville took a few, stumbling steps back.

Fenrir took a deep breath in, his amber eyes darkening dangerously.

"You… you smell…" he pated, unable to finish. He pushed Neville against a table, nuzzling into the boy's exposed throat. "Amazing." he growled the last word into the hollow of Neville's throat.

"S-s-stop." Neville stammered, trembling slightly beneath Fenrir.

The werewolf pushed the boy further onto the table, and quickly moved to straddle him.

Neville's mind almost stopped, and he couldn't help but enjoy the heat radiating from Fenrir, or the man's delicious weight.

I shouldn't be doing this! He thought, but then Fenrir's hot, rough tongue darted out to sweep across Neville's throat. The werewolf licked for a moment before sinking his teeth into the sweet, stretched expanse of skin before him. Neville whimpered in fear.

"Don't worry." Fenrir grumbled, as he lapped at the beads of blood that formed. "The bites I give you now won't turn you." His hands pulled at Neville's clothes, trying, desperately, to rid the boy of them without unlatching. Finally he simply tore the clothes to shreds and pushed them away.

Lovin'It: This is just a small idea I was playing with. I've always wanted to write a fic in which Neville turns out to be the Chosen One and not Harry. I've also always wanted a fic about Fenrir, and yaoi… even though I am a HUGE Neville/Luna fan, I'm pretty open with my pairings. Like Harry and Draco, I really whore those two out, even with each other. So anyway, I don't own any of the characters, cause I'm not J.K. Rowling (if I was, there would have never been a Ginny Weasley, I'm sorry, I just don't like her.) but I hope you enjoy it anyway. R&R plz… so I can get to the GOOD stuffs. xD