[Author's Note] Some will recognize this fic as a repost. After two years of writing it I made the hard decision to remove it altogether while I made some tweaks and finalized the ending. This was my first large fic I ever wrote and one that really helped me mold the Fenrir Greyback seen in my other fics. I felt I had an obligation to see this one through not just for myself but for the true fans that came along for the journey over the years. Thank you! I look forward to posting this fic in its entirety over the upcoming weeks.

Chapter 1

"I am going to miss you," Pansy sniffled, coaxing herself into a fit of tears. Millicent winced. She wasn't sure whether her friend was crying out of genuine despair or merely relief that she was not in Millicent's place. Although in truth she could not blame Pansy even if the latter was the case. It was certainly a sorry predicament she found herself in.

"I will be fine," she reassured the other girl and patted her head stiffly. "It will take much more than a few lousy werewolves to give me any trouble."

"Stay safe, Millie," Blaise said quietly and gave her a hug. She lingered in his embrace, breathing in the familiar scent of his sandalwood aftershave. The two had been best friends since their first year at Hogwarts and suddenly it hit her that she might not see him again for a very long time. She ignored the pang of sadness in her heart at this realization. Blaise felt the finality in their parting too but thankfully didn't say anything further. She could see the tension in his clenched jaw as he feigned a nonchalant air that Millicent appreciated, already at her threshold for theatrical displays of emotion thanks to Pansy. Blaise made her feel like they were exchanging their end of semester goodbye's at King's Crossing and not as though be it as it may she were being marched to her execution.

The yellow half moon hung over their head and lit the forest clearing with its glow. The small group of friends stood huddled around as they waited. Millicent drew her fur-lined cloak a little tighter but the gesture seemed futile against the cold winter air.

Millicent had been the first of peers to turn eighteen, and while it seemed like such an arbitrary age, she was nonetheless now considered an adult in the eyes of the wizarding community. But more importantly, in the eyes of Lord Voldemort. Pledging herself to the Dark Lord, Millicent had envisioned herself becoming a powerful dark witch but instead she found herself both the figurative and perhaps literal sacrificial lamb for the werewolves.

From her understanding Lord Voldemort had made a pact with the leader of the werewolves, Fenrir Greyback; whatever could be gained from the alliance made little difference to Millicent. Only that part of their agreement now involved her going to live with the werewolves—whether as their guest or as their food would remain to be seen. She took her circumstance with grace and honor but knew that her name had likely been drawn due to her father's ineptitude as a Death Eater. Or perhaps because she was a half-blood. Or a mixture of the two. Even if it wasn't something she bragged about, her family's bloodline wasn't exactly a secret either.

"I take it Draco couldn't be arsed to see me off?" Millicent asked drily. Blaise merely shrugged and Pansy gave a pained awkward smile.

"Said he was heading off on some mission," Blaise replied.

"-But he wished he could be here," Pansy added quickly, as if to soften the blow of the young man's absence. Millicent rolled her eyes, not surprised he was nowhere to be seen.

Before she could say anything further they were joined by another familiar presence. There was a soft pop as Bellatrix Lestrange appeared by Apparation.

She was both frightening and strikingly beautiful in a way that Millicent found mesmerizing. Her inky black hair curled in wild tendrils against her pale complexion, dark eyes scanning the faces of those in her presence. She carried herself with the fiery poise of a dark witch; a woman who knew her power and wielded it without mercy. It was this quality that Millicent secretly wished she possessed more than anything. It was what had drawn her to Lord Voldemort's ranks initially, hoping she could become something fierce too.

Now Millicent was simply hoping she made it through the night alive.

Blaise and Pansy could not meet Bellatrix's gaze as they murmured polite greetings. Slowly a smile began to camber across her red-stained lips as she addressed Millicent.

"Are you ready to do our Master's bidding, my dear?" Bellatrix asked with such a zealous fever in her tone. Her expectant expression begged Millicent to mirror the enthusiasm. The juxtaposition of Bellatrix's evident excitement and Millicent's dread could have been comical if the circumstances were different. While Bellatrix seemed like a child that had been given a pass to Honeydukes, Millicent was finding it hard to muster the same energy.

So she nodded instead and gave her friends one final goodbye embrace before following after Bellatrix into the forest. Millicent didn't look back at their disappearing figures, afraid that in doing so she would reveal the sudden fear pounding in her heart.

She walked quickly to match Bellatrix's step but pulled her hood up to hide her face. The calm exterior she had erected for the benefit of her friends was chipping away with each passing moment as they strode deeper into the forest. They followed the faint markers of a hunter's trail for an hour or so before the warm glow of several campfires ahead broke up the forest's dark abyss. She found the familiar crackle of the fire and the accompanying sounds of life comforting; it was as though if she used her imagination she could pretend she was simply enjoying a little camping holiday.

"We're here," Bellatrix said as they entered the camp.

Millicent assumed she was talking to her given that upon entering the site at least a dozen men, women and even several small children were already standing around to greet them. The only person who did not appear to acknowledge their arrival was a man lounging by the site's central-most campfire. His gaze never left the flicker of the flames as they approached.

"Move aside wolves," Bellatrix snapped impatiently. A few individuals snarled in reply but the small gathering still parted as the witch marched forward. Millicent did not make eye contact with any of them as she followed behind the older woman, gazing off at invisible point on the horizon.

"Are you not going to rise to greet us, Greyback?" Bellatrix asked with a huff in her voice as she stood in front of the seated man. From the light of the flames Millicent was surprised to see that the werewolf looked nothing like the images she had seen of him in wanted posters. He appeared younger, for instances, perhaps even in his late twenties. Shirtless, his toned body was marred with scars of various patterns. Even his face bore faint marks of a man who had seen his share of violence, including one long scar that passed from the corner of his left eye down the bridge of his nose. But it was Fenrir's eyes that were most striking of all; incredibly light they reflected the flames from the campfire and gave him a look of something altogether feral.

Fenrir's gaze shifted to Bellatrix, never blinking as he stood up slowly. He said nothing initially and the silence made Millicent uncomfortable. Even with her hood still drawn up she felt the heat rise on her cheeks when suddenly the werewolf looked past Bellatrix and straight at her.

"What have you brought me this evening, Death Eater?" He asked Bellatrix, flashing a wicked smile in Millicent's direction.

"A gift from the Dark Lord, as promised. Her name is Millicent Bulstrode," Bellatrix replied. She grabbed Millicent by the arm and pushed her forward with a hiss, "Don't be meek, girl."

The reproach in Bellatrix's voice forced Millicent to choke back her fear and regain some level of composure so that when she removed her hood she had the courage not to divert her eyes from the werewolf's piercing stare.

Millicent was many things but meek was not one of them. She matched his gaze evenly.

He advanced closer. Her resolve did not waiver until he stood mere inches from her face; she looked away slightly, her body trembling against her will to appear calm. If she ran now Millicent wondered who would strike her down first: The unhinged dark witch or the terrifying werewolf. Fenrir seemed to delight in the response he elicited, his laughter sounding like the low rumble of thunder.

"I like her," Fenrir noted. This should have given Millicent a sliver of comfort and yet she didn't know whether his approval meant she would make it past the first full moon or even through the night.

For all I know that means I will make a delicious snack for later, Millicent thought to herself.

"Well I will leave you to whatever it is you creatures do out here," Bellatrix said with a measure of disdain. She turned to Millicent, grabbing her by the chin as though addressing a child. "As for you, remember to make the Dark Lord proud."

Millicent was not sure what exactly that might entail nor was she in a position to inquire so she simply nodded silently. Satisfied that her part was done Bellatrix departed the camp and disappeared into the night.

Fenrir had returned to his seat by the fire and the small crowd slowly dispersed back to their individual campfires or tents, murmuring amongst themselves as they cast curious looks in her direction. Millicent was not sure what to think; her arrival was not nearly as eventful as she had imagined save the introduction to the werewolf Fenrir. She still wasn't sure whether she was a prisoner or a guest. Since no one had subdued her with shackles and taken her wand away Millicent leaned towards the latter.

Millicent saw that all but one other person remained behind. The young woman was a petite redheaded woman that seemed strangely familiar to Millicent. Perhaps realizing that she was the only person now in closest proximity to the newcomer, the stranger gave a resolved sigh as she accepted her role as the welcoming party. "Come on, let's find you a bed."

"The name's Morag," she said, leading Millicent to a nearby yurt. Inside revealed that the space had been charmed into a larger accommodation with several fur skins decorating the walls and floors. There were a series of lamps hanging around the perimeter of the circular room that revealed a few individual beddings had been made. Morag pointed to the one that would belong to Millicent. Given the lack of locks on the door and the prison-like cell she had anticipated the witch was steadily continuing to lean towards the guess her status was closer to guest then food.

"Millicent but most call me Millie," she replied. "Have we met before? You look familiar."

The red head nodded. "We were the same year at Hogwarts. I was a Ravenclaw, I think we might have been in a class or two together."

And suddenly Millicent connected this stranger with a vague memory of a girl in bronze and silver robes that sat next to her in Potions. The thought of Hogwarts clashed with the trappings of the new environment she found herself in. "How did you end up here?"

"I was bit in the summer of my fourth year," Morag replied matter-of-factly, making no sign that this was a bitter development for the former Hogwarts student. "Not by Fenrir or anyone from this pack but they took me in when my mum and dad kicked me out of the house."

"And do you like it here?" Millicent asked, both equally curious about the former

Ravenclaw's background but also not wanting to pry into the details of her transformation. Millicent knew next to nothing about werewolves and whether such a discussion was taboo among them but she wasn't going to take her chances. There was a saying among wizards never to piss off a werewolf and Millicent was keen to follow that adage.

"Didn't have much of anywhere else to go but I'd say it's not too bad. Fenrir looks after us. In the morning after patrols I could show you around if you want."

"I'd like that very much, thank you." Millicent replied and felt a sense of relief wash over her. Despite the circumstances, having someone like Morag around made Millicent feel more capable of handling the changes to her world. Even so, there were plenty of worries tugging at her thoughts but as she crawled into the unfamiliar bed Millicent welcomed the oblivion of sleep and the break from life's new reality it afforded her.

Millicent woke with her heart racing the next morning. Slowly she made sense of the unfamiliar place as the previous night's events caught up to her. The pallet of fur skins and down feathers was nothing like the king-size bed of her previous life. When she closed her eyes the witch imagined that she was back at her home, hundreds of miles away. She could see the sunlight trickling into her bedroom window and smell the aroma of morning's breakfast being prepared by the family house elf. Her father and two brothers would be at the table already drinking their tea as they heatedly discussed the latest Quidditch scores.

She missed their inane conversations and it hurt to think about them and that life that she might never have again. Millicent forced herself to untangle from the emotional pull of the memories that had seemed so inconsequential only days before.

"Oh good you're up," Morag greeted as she entered the yurt carrying a satchel over her shoulder.

"Morning," Millicent yawned.

Morag tossed the bag to Millicent who caught it with a puzzled expression. The former Ravenclaw stated simply, "Thought you could use some fresh clothes. Come have some breakfast with me when you've changed."

"Thanks," Millicent was grateful for the gift; she had not brought much of any personal belongings save her mother's cameo, her cloak, the clothes she was still wearing from the night before and lastly her wand. When Millicent opened the linen bag she found several simple cotton tunics and weathered buckskin leggings. She put the clothes on and while looking at the pile of her robes crumbled on the ground felt as though she was seeing a bit of herself being discarded. The new attire was like accepting the new normal that was going to be Millicent's life.

The verdict was still out as to how she felt about these changes.

So she slid her mother's cameo on and tucked her wand into the satchel. Millicent left the yurt to find Morag sitting at a close by fire chatting with a mousey looking young man. They paused in their conversation when Millicent approached.

"So this is the fresh meat I heard about," the male greeted. There was a mischievous look in his eyes that made Millicent assume he was joking but she also thought there might be was some literal truth to it.

"Tobey, you have a shit sense of humor," Morag said and slapped him hard on the shoulder. "Come on and have a seat and don't mind him. Tobey's only real talent is creating awkward situations."

"Aw, I was only joking," he said with a sheepish smile. He grabbed a skewer off the fire and offered a piece of roasted meat. "Friends?"

Millicent smiled slightly. She was still unsure of the person but knew it was in her best interest to accept friendship, and food for that matter, where she could find it. She sank her teeth into the food and was grateful that she recognized what it was instantly. Hunting had been a favorite pastime of her family and the smoky taste of the cooked hog was immensely comforting. But despite the relaxed setting, she could not forget that she was now a witch living among werewolves. An outsider. She was in survival-mode regardless of how friendly the two individuals in front of her seemed.

"So it's Millicent, right? Mo was telling me you two went to school together. Did you really ride brooms?"

"First year, yes; I wasn't too great at it," she said. "Did you not go to Hogwarts?"

Tobey shook his head, stirring his biscuit into a bowl of mush before taking a bite. It didn't look entirely too appetizing to Millicent. "I was bit before I got my letter. Ran away from home and never looked back on that wizarding school business."

"Well if it isn't a couple of pathetic omegas mingling with the witch. Why I am not surprised to find you two here," came a voice from behind Millicent. She turned to see the newcomer: Tall and waifish thin, her features gaunt and weathered by the sun. There was a fierceness in her emerald eyes that was reminiscent of Fenrir's from the night before but unlike him there was no mistaking the malice in her gaze.

"And you," she said as she stepped towards Millicent. Instinctively, Millicent stood to her feet. If she was going to be attacked, she preferred to do so standing and prepared. "Make no mistake, you may wear our clothes and eat our food but you are still just dinner."

The witch said and did nothing, as she stood toe-to-toe with the woman, her face a cool impenetrable mask. Where Fenrir had definitely stirred fear in her, this woman most certainly did not. Millicent had met her fair share of bullies in school and she was no different. Werewolf or not.

"Come on Lucy, we weren't bothering you any," Tobey mumbled although he had diverted his gaze submissively. Morag was looking at the ground as well, her expression solemn.

Lucy feigned a slight lurch at Millicent who didn't flinch before walking off with a cackle. As if she actually did anything, Millicent remarked to herself as she quirked an eyebrow.

"So I take it that's the head bitch in charge?" She asked bluntly to the two who were still looking ashamed as they raised their heads.

"You could say that," Morag replied. "At least she thinks she is the Alpha female."

"But really it's Fenrir who decides that," Tobey added and gauging Millicent's confused look he added. "In a pack you have a hierarchy: the betas and the omegas make up the majority of us and that is just sort of decided naturally by where you stand in the pecking order but there are only ever two Alphas. Our leader, Fenrir and his mate."

"And Lucy is his mate?" Millicent asked, fascinated.

"Not really," Morag said, rolling her eyes. "He hasn't chosen anyone yet. It's a big deal when an Alpha chooses his mate."

"Why?"

"Because they become partners for life and that mate represents the future of the pack too," Morag said shortly as if to hint that she did not want to talk any more about the subject. Both Tobey and Morag had been friendly and for the most part welcoming of Millicent but it was clear that there were only so many questions they were willing to answer for an outsider such as herself.

After breakfast, Morag and Tobey showed Millicent the camp. In the daylight, she could see it was much larger than she had thought the night before with various tents and yurts and even hammocks in the trees peppering the surrounding landscape. What surprised Millicent the most was the presence of children gleefully playing. She knew the lore of werewolves stealing children in the middle of the night, they had been told to her in her youth to keep her from misbehaving but now she wasn't sure if the old witch's tales were true. Despite the rugged trappings of the camp the people seemed to be prosperous.

Awhile later, the two werewolves left Millicent as they tended to their chores. Not yet designated with any tasks of her own she wandered down to the river where she had been told was used for bathing. It was a bright cloudless day and the warmth of the sun was a pleasant contrast to the winter's cold crisp air. As she approached the riverbank she took off her boots and slipped her feet into the water, confirming it's frigid temperature she had already suspected.

Caught in the internal debate of how bathing would work in the long winter months without dying of hypothermia Millicent didn't notice immediately the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Hello, witch," said the slow familiar voice she recognized from the night before. Millicent turned to see Fenrir appearing from a small hunter's trail just a few feet away from where she was. Even as he approached her relaxed there was still something predatorily about his gait that made every part of Millicent go on high alert. His eyes were a piercing gold in the light of day and she found herself hypnotized by their gaze so much so that she had forgotten to return the greeting.

"Care to join me?" He asked with a disarming playfulness. And before Millicent could reply he stripped down and dove into the water with a loud splash. Speechless and blushing, Millicent looked away from the river as if that would change the fact that she just saw every inch of the werewolf's sun-soaked body only a moment ago.

"I'd rather not," she replied, attempting (and failing sorely) to look nonchalant and mask her flushed cheeks at the same time. "Aren't you freezing?"

"My kind runs hot-blooded," he offered with a shrug, wading in the water. With an inquisitive expression Fenrir asked, "tell me witch does the naked body embarrass you?"

"No, I just don't want to swim," she answered stubbornly, stealing glances at Fenrir while still trying to mask her obvious embarrassment. Such was the case that her blushing cheeks did not, for that matter, evade Fenrir's attention. In fact, he seemed entirely amused by her reaction.

"I would, however, like to know what exactly is going on."

"Currently? I am enjoying a swim and you are not," he replied.

"That's not what I meant, Greyback. What are you going to do with me? "

"Did you have something in mind?" He asked playfully. Was Fenrir Greyback flirting with her? Millicent wondered, both simultaneously excited and frustrated at the same time. There was no mistaking how incredibly handsome the werewolf was and the intensity of his gaze was secretly thrilling. However Millicent sensed he was also toying with her and a flicker of annoyance crossed her expression. Surely she had a right to know what her fate would be living among the werewolves?

"Were you Marked by him?" He asked when Millicent did not answer, gesturing to her forearm.

"No," she answered, shaking her head. "I pledged myself but never got a chance to serve the Dark Lord before I was brought here."

"Interesting," he said cryptically. But before Millicent could ask him what he found so interesting about that piece of information she heard Tobey's nearby voice calling her name.

"Run along then, witch," Fenrir said with a smile. "I will see you soon."

The young woman gave a quick nod and walked off wordlessly. But even as she retreated, Millicent could not help but feel the gaze of the werewolf as she moved away. A part of her wondered what was going through his mind but as she reflected on the nature of the beast within him she concluded that perhaps she was better off not knowing.