Alright, just so you all know this is loosely based on events at my job today. So while it's moderately crazy, and amusing, I swear to god, I barely managed to keep it together. And I still have my job. Which is a win win all around.

PROMPTS:
1. Fenrir Greyback
2. "Are you supposed to be Little Red Riding Hood?"
3. Hermione Granger
4. "I'm the Big Bad Wolf."

Hermione had her fist firmly crammed against her front teeth as she listened to to the man in her office rambling on about...well, she actually wasn't sure what he was rambling on about anymore. Or, actually, what his point had been in the first place. In fact, if she was in the muggle world and not the wizarding world, she would have thought someone was going to jump out any moment and yell "GOTCHA!"

But she wasn't. She was the head of the Department for Control of Magical Creatures, and she was currently listening to a man, dressed like a unicorn, plead for what she thought was better laws regarding their welfare. Or rights. Or maybe it had nothing to do with either, but it had been a really fucking long week, and the only thing she had enough willpower for was to stare this gentleman in the eyes and pretend to listen to him. If she looked up at his horn, or down at his purple leather outfit she was done for. So her fist remained pressed against her mouth, and her eyes unblinking as they stared into his.

Unfortunately, the fates seemed determined to tempt her self-control. There was a brisk knock accompanied by a brief, "Granger" and the door to her office swung open.

Her eyes widened as she looked at the intruder, inhaling sharply. Filling the door was her personal dirty fantasy – all shaggy long hair, amber eyes, and muscles that made her feel the right kinds of naughty when he looked at her. Fenrir was the hottest wet dream she could imagine, and he was blissfully real, and a regular visitor to her office. Unfortunately, while normally she was ecstatic to have the werewolf in her office, right now she needed discipline, and Fenrir was the furthest thing from it.

She managed to barely control a giggle that burbled on the edge of tongue at his expression. Noticing she wasn't alone, he face morphed from barely apologetic to confused to completely blank. As his eyes swept upwards along the man's horn, she choked out, "Can I help you, Fenrir?"

"I think, perhaps, you need more help than I do," he answered, eyes stuck on the golden horn. She bit her fist for a moment and shook her head firmly.

"Excuse me? And just who do you think you are?" snapped her Man-icorn. Hermione winced, rubbing her now aching hand down the front of her face.

"Me?" asked Fenrir, grinning a smile that was just a little too big and with too many teeth, "I'm the Big Bad Wolf"

The costumed man shrieked in fright then, making little whinnying noises that stripped Hermione of the last of her restraint and she let out a barking laugh, which she immediately attempted to cover up with a cough. Her visitor looked at her with a hurt expression and she shook her head, "Thank you for stopping by today, Mr. Prism. Perhaps we can meet again sometime next week to discuss the rest of the ideas you have? I'm afraid I have a pressing meeting with Mr. Greyback here"

The purple clad wannabe-ungulate stood abruptly, huffing at her as he turned and stomped out of the room. As he left her eyes were drawn to the back of his costume – two white buttcheeks sticking out of purple chaps adorned with a rainbow tail. Hermione thought Fenrir's eyes were going to pop out of his head, and she gestured him to close the door. Pulling out her wand she cast a silencing spell before dissolving completely into laughter, head pressed against her desk.

"Pressing meeting, hm?" came the graveled voice from directly over her head, and she leaned back, looking up at the werewolf above her.

"It was the best I could come up with, circumstances as they were" she replied with a grin, leaning back in her chair. He rumbled a reply somewhere deep in his chest, crossing his arms in front of himself.

"Perhaps I should tie you up for the afternoon," he responded, and her heart skipped a beat at the double meaning.

"We should probably start with lunch, and some drinks," she answered, reaching behind her to grab her cloak. His eyes widened and flashed as he took in the crimson color, grinning hungrily at her. He reached forward to tie it at the base of her neck, finger brushing her pulse point carelessly. Her breath hitched a moment, and he stepped into her personal space at the sound.

"So tell me. are you supposed to be Little Red Riding Hood?" he asked, voice deep and low in his throat. She swallowed hard and his nostrils flared – she knew he could smell her rapidly spiking arousal.

Clearing her throat she leaned towards him, "Yes. And if you're very, very good I might even just let you eat me"