I just had to post something lately I don't know where this idea came from (another one of my crazy bad boy fantasies O.o) but school is being evil and is getting harder and harder for me to write my stories but I shall work harder for my precious readers.

For now this is only part 1, my other stories there has been a vacation for them (I'm sorry but I needed a break for a bit :[ ) BUT I WILL work on them and soon, definitely this weekedn but i don't know how far I shall get.

Now finally on to this story... enjoy.

You Just Don't Belong to Me

The young werewolf smirked to himself; his mate would be coming soon. When she did, he would finally get the chance to claim her for his own possession. The girl would be his, no matter what.

This affection or tendre he had harbored for her had gone on for quite long enough. She no longer was the frizzy haired, bucked-tooth, flat chested witch of her younger teenage years. Now she had finally grown and blossomed into a very becoming young woman filling out in the just the right places. It wouldn't be long before an army load of sick and twisted admirers would be storming her and fighting to gain even so much of her attention. The werewolf couldn't have that happen.

He would make sure that he would have her or no one could have her at all. She was always his, from the very beginning. He had already imprinted and it wouldn't be long until she felt the need to mate with him. Very soon he would have his mate and his position as Alpha would still reign supreme. Once again the young man (werewolf) smirked deep in consciousness he thought of how delicious his mate truly was.

He was always a werewolf, deep blood ties had made him this way. His family wasn't just that of purebloods but it was also of werewolf descent from the very beginning of man. Many knew not of his family's hereditary genes only those from the strongest and most powerful knew. Even the Dark Lord had known, but he had thought it was secret bonus and it kept his family from mortal danger.

But now that he was becoming of age, his body changed more than it used to. He was destined to be the Alpha for his pack just like the fathers before him. But his father was still alive; this man wasn't just any plain old werewolf. This young man was born into his grand position; all werewolves would obey him and respect him. For he was not an Alpha to mess around with, and everyone knew it. Yet he still had not had a true mate despite his rakish younger years, even though he had already imprinted on his intended mate.

Turning his nose to the air, he smelled the atmosphere feeling nothing at first. But then he felt another presence in his territory, someone different someone new. It was her. Though he couldn't quite put his finger on it but something was off with her scent. It was changed, like her body was hiding something.

Her scent was off; it wasn't like the one that her wand gave off. But he had known this scent somewhere. It was oddly familiar.

Then she stepped from the shadows. It wasn't until he saw her that he realized the troubles they both were in.

OH SHIT! This really wasn't supposed to happen, but how and why did it? Hermione Granger thought to herself as she realized the deep predicament she was in.

This just wasn't supposed to happen. Harry was supposed to kill Voldemort and everything would be put to an end. The lovely story of his would end in the perfect way with rainbows and sun shines and everything.

"MA!" a voice cried out and Hermione looked at the infant in her arms with caring affection. Making a very stupid face at the child she heard it coo in delight and once again began to play with her chocolate brown curls.

Though Harry did kill Voldemort, Voldemort had already killed him. Not just once, not just twice but three times! (The first time being when Harry was just a baby.) The Resurrection Stone also counted as the second time, but Voldemort had gotten him again just before he did. The monster couldn't just go without a fight couldn't he?

Her thoughts were ceased as the infant in her arms began pulling harshly on her slight frizzy hair. Stopping him, she spoke with tender words, "No, darling, you mustn't pull Momma's hair." The child stopped for a second and gave her one of those dazzling smiles. A smile she had seen before on him.

But why in the world did Harry revert back into an infant? He also just had to get nipped by a stray werewolf, too. No not a stray, but an evil werewolf.

"WHAA!" Harry, the infant, Potter cried in Hermione's arms. She could tell that the wolf in him was affecting him yet again, apparently he was teething in both human and wolf forms.

"Harry, please calm down." Hermione was usually very, very good when it came to children but when it came to werewolves that was when things got tricky. It didn't really help that Remus Lupin, the only werewolf she knew, had died with his wife, Tonks, during the war. This she had witnessed with her very own eyes, somethings could just never be un-seen.

Unfortunately the child in her arms only continued to weep. Time was only running out, for the both of them.

He was after them, yet again.

After the War

Hermione ran as fast as her feet could take her. The hill was steep but she just had to find out if Harry was alright. Ron was injured in the Great Hall that was now being used as an infirmary, but no one had seen hide nor hair of Harry. It was just like 'poof' and he had disappeared right after Voldemort did.

It just didn't make sense for the Boy-Who-Lived to disappear. She felt so empty without her two best friends/ big brothers there celebrating the end of the war with her. Yet she too also had some bodily harm, many of them were hidden with a simple concealment charm but they still bothered her to a certain point.

So Hermione set off, in search of the only person who would make her feel better right now. Her very best friend, the one and only 'Chosen one', Harry Potter. The Dark Forest was not just forbidden but also unforgiving.

Now running faster than her feet could take her, she strode into the forest passing Hagrid's hut. Harry just had to be here, somewhere. Thus she began her search, a search that would take more hours than she wanted them to be.

"Harry! Harry!" Hermione called over and over again. No answer. Her feet were slipping on the slant of the hill but still she continued her search for her best friend.

Then she found him, the remains of what was left of Voldemort. But it wouldn't take long for her to find the where Harry was.

A lone wolf's howl entered the atmosphere, causing Hermione to freeze immediately. This was not good, not good at all. Memories of her third year replayed in the back of her head.

"Harry! Harry!" Hermione once again called out but this time in a hushed tone. The only answer in return was silence. Silence and the growl of a nearby werewolf.

Someone was following her, getting closer and closer. Her heart was frantically beating in her chest. SNAP! A twig broke under her foot, causing her to become unsteady and for her other foot to collide into a heavy tree root. Almost immediately Hermione's face met the cold unforgiving ground. She could even feel her body starting to shut down, she could only take so much action for one day.

The heavy breathing was now at the base of her neck. The wolf was upon her now. Struggling to get up the girl faced her stalker.

The predator had found his prey. Hermione Granger survived this much of the war only to die at the end.

NOT YET, she thought. Hermione wanted to live.

It looked as though the werewolf was about to pounce when he suddenly transformed back into his human form. That of Fenrir Greyback.

"Looking for this girly?" He asked and held out Harry's broken glasses. She would know them anywhere; she had fixed them for him multiple times.

"Harry. What did you do with him?" Hermione screeched and tried to stand up but a shocking pain rose up her leg and into her chest. Her heartbeat started to pound ferociously, any second and her chest would explode.

"Nothing, yet." The beast replied and threw the glasses in a burlap bag. How had the beat escape their eyes, why was no one fighting him?

"Tell me what you did to him, or else!" Hermione warned and struggled to reach her wand which lay right out of her grasp. The werewolf saw through her ruse, the weakened girl's body was the only thing betraying her now.

"Or else what?" The rough voice taunted loudly in her ears, but before Hermione could answer blackness clouded her vision.

Once more Hermione Granger fell and succumbed to the bleak unforgiving darkness of unconsciousness…

She was being carried, albeit it was more of dragging than that of holding. Hermione awoke to the feeling of being half-carried and half-dragged across the hard floor, due to the smells and the stalagmites she could tell they were in a cave of some sort.

This was the headquarters for Fenrir's pack. There was no chance for escape now.

Hermione continued to feign sleeping, hopefully she thought, that this was only just a dream. But her hopes were worth naught, in the morning she would once again awaken to a harsh and cold reality.

Hermione could then feel her body be gently picked up, like she was suddenly made of the most precious glass. She could then hear a door opening, but what would a door being doing in a subterranean chamber?

Was it a torture chamber? A prison? What was going on here? Would she be kept as a prisoner of war? Or was she just prey that they would keep and fatten up for future slaughter? The possibilities were endless.

But before she could answer, Hermione was suddenly thrown unto a soft bed. Was she here for that kind of purpose?

Powerful lips crushed hers, and Hermione struggled to breathe. What was the monster doing to her? A claw seemed to scratch at her chest, shredding the top into pieces. Hermione was too stunned to even react.

How could she fight if she had no wand? Even her own body was too weak to fight the man/beast on top of her.

The same claw seemed to release its pressure from her chest, but had decided to venture elsewhere. This time her jeans were shredded to fragments, she was clothed in naught but her bra and her knickers. Looking up and into the eyes of her fierce some captor, Hermione froze. She was helpless now; there was nothing she could do to stop him from hurting her.

"Don't worry it won't hurt, much." The werewolf whispered huskily against her ear, then continued with this personal invasion as his tongue started a path down her neck.

Then he bit her. She could feel his fangs settled deep within her blood stream as he pumped his own venom into her. Fenrir was making her into a werewolf such as him.

Hermione could feel the silky texture of the tortuous venom as it entered her bloodstream, sending cells that would quickly multiply and then attack her body's immune system. No amount of immunity could save a person from this cursed venom. Pain lashed through her body, it made Hermione no longer feel control over her own body. She couldn't resist what was happening outside of the pain.

Hermione Jane Granger: muggleborn witch and best friend of the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter. Recently turned werewolf.

This time the dark black oblivion was welcoming for her…

Morning then arose slowly and painstakingly, she could no longer feel her body. But she could hear something small shuffle on top of her, something whimpered into her bare chest. Staring at the ceiling above her Hermione tried to focus her mind on the task set in front of her; to try and move her head without causing excruciating pain. Taking note of the blood on the rags that were once probably blankets, she looked around the room for the source of the noise.

Still the whimpering noises continued, but by the second were getting even brasher. Tilting her to the side slightly, Hermione glanced down for a second.

A child. No, an infant sat on her chest. Someone's baby was on her chest nudging at her breasts.

Moving her arms slowly due to the soreness around her chest and various other parts of her body, including her thighs, Hermione sat up to better accommodate the small helpless infant in her arms.

But why would Fenrir give her a child? May hap she was out of consciousness longer than she thought.

Then she saw the child's eyes, a striking emerald green. She would have recognized them anywhere.

Harry's eyes.

Caressing the weeping baby Hermione held the child's head. There on his head was blackish-brown hair.

But above all there upon the infant's forehead was an eerily familiar shaped scar. A jagged lightning bolt, etched deep within the child's forehead.

This child was her best friend. Harry Potter.

But how?

She ran from him. It was thought of as the impossible but she just had to escape. She took a chance, a very slim chance at that and left. So Hermione took Harry from the cave of the place that they had called their home/prison, but it was most definitely a prison, for the last three months. Fenrir was out on a raid of some sort again, leaving Hermione with plenty of time to practice some of her wand less magic. Plus learn how to take care of a child by herself.

She still wasn't sure why Fenrir kept them alive all this time and not murder them in their sleep.

During that time Hermione had gotten used to Fenrir's brash usage of her, but otherwise he would not lay a claw on her. Most of the times he would leave suddenly saying that she had another wolf's smell on her body, even though it was just the three of them who lived in the cave.

She was a mother now, with a young pup to care for. Yes, Hermione was now a fully -fledged werewolf and so was the young Harry. Though, it had made no sense why Harry had transformed back into this state after his final battle with Voldemort. Who knows?

Clutching Harry to her chest, Hermione continued on her way. Sooner or later Fenrir would find them; sooner or later she might die. The countdown had begun; Fenrir would have sensed her aura leaving. He was the leader of their small pack, if it may be called one. If only she had her wand. Still Hermione ran forward toward the feeling of safety, the feeling of real warmth. She just had to be away from this foreign world that she was once trapped in.

Unbeknownst to her Hermione Granger was running towards the arms of her mate…

He saw her amidst the trees; she was just barely on the edge of his lands. She also seemed to be carrying some heavy and precious bundle in her arms, for every now and then she would look down into the blankets or rags and stare at it lovingly. His own pack growled at the presence of an unknown female. But he had quieted them down with only a single thought. His mate. She was running from something, but what? She was in danger from some unknown predator.

Not for long, she wasn't…

"MA!" A child's voice came out of nowhere startling not just him, but also his pack. His mate looked down into the bundle again before checking her surroundings. Her nose went to the air as if smelling his pack's presence nearby.

A child? Why would she have a child with her?

"No, darling, you mustn't pull Momma's hair." Her voice rang out in the night sounding like an angel's choir in heaven. How long had it been since he last saw her or for the very least heard her voice.

Momma? Why would she refer to herself as a mother? Unless she had a child. Most likely Potter's since Weasel wasn't man enough to tell her about his feelings. But still how could he have let another man stake his claim on HIS mate?

"WHAA!" The voice cried out again and this time his mate looked exasperated. She didn't even look properly fed for the last couple of months. Her body was severely malnourished, why shouldn't she be taking care of herself?

"Harry, please calm down." His mate caressed the child's face, but still the crying had yet to stop. Instead the child cried louder.

So the brat was Potter's. But why would she name him Harry Jr.? How could it have happened? The last time he had seen her, her body was as slim and beautiful as ever.

She couldn't have been hiding for this long, she and Pothead were considered MIA, but she of course left for a while now. Unless she was kidnapped…

Suddenly the girl flung herself onto the ground, yet still shielding the child. Sniffing again, he smelled the air. There were three extra werewolves unaccounted for on his land. Not one, not two but make it three werewolves.

How could he have been so ignorant?

Then he saw it. Her transformation that is; and even the brat she carried with her growled in annoyance at the sight of the accursed yet bewitching moon. Standing from atop his great boulder Draco could only look on as the love of his life transformed into one of his own.

It didn't make it any better for him that she had a child already. He had just marked his claim on her a few mere months ago but with an unclaimed pup the pack would be in an uproar.

Draco could already sense Blaise and Theo tasting the atmosphere.

What is that smell?

Who is this cub?

Alpha, why is your mate with cub?

Why is a female alone?

Who is she?

Why is she here?

The questions flooded his mind through their silent (or not so silent) ways of communicating with one another. Taking a deep breath and he answered them.

SHUT UP! It came out with a bark, a fierce one at that.

… Finally it was quiet, now Draco could hear his own thoughts again.

From where he stood Draco could smell the blood leaking from the wounds on her skin. Someone had caused harm to his mate.

That's when he sensed it, the other wolf. The one who whose only intent was to capture Draco's mate and her cub from Draco's territory.

It was the one and only Fenrir Greyback.

The evil bastard.

The wolf Draco growled as he saw the evil wolf encircling his long-lost mate. This was unacceptable, the monster should be killed.

Harry snuffled in her arms, he was getting hungry. Hermione had gone over the last 36 hours without food, or water but now she was running low on her meager supplies. She really should have planned this out better.

Poor Harry, but how did this happen?

Someone please answer her that.

Draco then decided to make his first move. Unfortunately so did Fenrir.

Thanks for reading. ^w^

I do not own Harry Potter, all rights belong to the rightful author.