Sweat trickled down the back of Hermione Granger's neck, making her skin extra sensitive to the frigid December air outside.
She sat still as a mouse, hidden behind both a rather large tree, and numerous protective enchantments. She shifted her gaze farther ahead to another seemingly empty tree, where she knew that Harry stood as still as she, waiting for that one moment that the werewolf would take the bait the Order had set him up in.
She watched silently as his shadow moved from one room to the next, impossibly fast. His shadow seemed to be normal, but sometimes, if Hermione was watching closely enough, the shadow became a little bigger, a little more…animal than human. But then she would blink, and it was gone.
Finally, the lights began to turn off, until only the glow of the moon illuminated the snowy lawn and the dark, looming outline of the house.
She waited for five minutes, then sent the signal.
Out of the darkness, a boy appeared. Hermione gripped her wand tighter as the boy walked to the front door without leaving prints in the snow.
She heard the knock; it echoed eerily around the wood surrounding the home.
Then the door was open and two simultaneous cracks split the night air as Harry and Hermione apparated right onto the front door step.
What happened after that was a blur. The wolf was fast, too fast and too strong and it wasn't him. Harry's body went flying, a hand clamped down on the Hermione's wand arm and twisted it back and back until she was sure he was going to break it. The smell of him filled her nose. It wasn't an unpleasant smell; he smelled wild and raw and dangerous. He deftly plucked her wand from her fingers and before she could blink they were being squeezed into the constricting blackness of apparation.
They landed and Hermione slammed her foot down onto her captors and was rewarded with a grunt of pain; she drove her elbow back into his torso and threw her head back into his face when he bent from the force of the elbow. His grip slackened from her arm and she twisted away from him and cast her gaze for her wand. She had to get back.
She didn't have to look far though, since the werewolf had her wand pointed right between her eyes.
Fear filled her veins like ice.
"What do you want with Draco?" his voice was low and guttural and made her insides twist together.
She said nothing.
Fenrir chuckled. "Why would you want Draco Malfoy? The traitor is part of the Order…or should I say, was?"
He gave Hermione's wand a flick and she went flying back, back, back and hit the wall with a solid thump and fell to the floor. She lifted her gaze. "Why have you brought me here?"
Fenrir took a step forward, Hermione's wand still held firmly betwixt his fingers, pointing straight at her. "It was not I who brought you. It was our very own Draco Malfoy."
Hermione's face remained blank, but her heart had begun to beat much faster. It couldn't be. "No," she said.
This time, Fenrir laughed out loud. "Yes," he insisted. "Yes and yes. Draco brought you here, girl…and you will never be able to leave."
The werewolf is mad, Hermione thought. She had to find a way to get her wand back. She had to get back to Harry. If Greyback was telling the truth, then Draco was the traitor. They had all speculated that someone was leaking information about the Order, and although there were many who harbored doubt towards him, no one had ever found proof that Draco was the traitor. Whether or not it was the truth, it had to be reported to Harry and Ron so the three of them could get to the bottom of this.
"You coward. What are you talking about? Give me my wand and let's settle this with a duel-"
But suddenly Greyback was just a blur in front of her, and in the next second she felt clawed hands close around her throat as he jerked her up and slammed her against the wall. He wasn't choking her, but her face was forced upwards and breathing became awkward. She scratched uselessly at his hand around her throat.
He pushed his body into hers and leaned his face into her ear. "There will be no duel, little girl, because it would be completely and totally unfair. Even if you had a wand, I would overpower you faster than you had time to even say a spell. I am faster than you. I am stronger than you. And if you want to survive, you will submit," he growled. He lingered there for a moment and let his hot breath on her ear and over her neck. He could smell her. It was an intoxicating scent. He smelled fear and sweat and that sweet girl smell. He smelled fear and disparity, yes, but he also smelled anger and defiance. It made his heart beat faster and his mouth a little more moist, because it meant that this bitch was going to try and run, and he would be provided with a hunt.
He let her go and magically bound her wrists and ankles together. With a languid, casual flick, he sent Hermione soaring through the house, banging against the walls as she was unceremoniously dragged by magic to a special room just for her. He heard the spell fling her into the room and she crashed into something just as the door swung shut and the lock clicked loudly into place.
One…two…three… and Hermione Granger began to kick and pound at the door, shouting curses and obscenities.
Fenrir Greyback ran a clawed hand through his matted hair and fastened a cloak about his shoulders. He slipped Hermione's wand up his sleeve and took a swig of fire whiskey. He was going to need it to deal with the traitor wolf. With one last smile in the direction of Hermione's room, he turned on the spot and apparated away.