Chapter 4"There is a small radio center on the western side of the island. Long distance communication has been down for awhile but there should still be a short distance radio that could help," Fenrir said.
"I could contact the ship," Hermione murmured in understanding, perhaps they would luck out and the vessel would already be in distance to pick up the call and arrive a day early. It was wishful thinking but they had to try.
Fenrir nodded, "and it will at least put you closer to the docks for when it does get here."
"How well do you know the island's terrain? How are we possibly going to find our way there in this jungle?" Hermione asked.
Fenrir shrugged, "Back when the island's prison colony was originally established they gave us a lot more freedom and had us inmates help build up the different sites. A lot of the paths we used back then are overgrown now but I am sure I can still pick them up if I try. It won't quite be a walk in the park but we can do it. "
"Okay, I think that will be our best bet then," Hermione said. Her mind felt fuzzy from fatigue and the thought of the trek ahead made her even more weary. She curled her legs to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. Her eyelids were heavy and just as soon as she closed them she felt a black veil of sleep descend upon her mind almost instantly.
"You should rest," he said and Hermione forced herself to lift her head. She was surprised to see the concern in the werewolf's expression. "I will take the first watch."
"No, I will do it," Hermione replied back but she was so exhausted the words sounded weak as soon as they left her lips. She was depleted of any last bit of adrenaline from the night's ordeal but Hermione was desperate to find some energy to stay away. Despite the fact that he had rescued her Hermione would not let herself forget who he was beneath the playful banter and alluring eyes. He was a killer, a monster in the truest sense of the word. But she had to trust him and most surprisingly her inner voice was telling her she could trust him. On what grounds? She wasn't even remotely sure. Never in a million years would Hermione have predicted she would be relying on the former ally of the Death Eaters to stay alive and yet here she was sitting beside Fenrir Greyback under a hollowed tree trunk surrounded by things that wanted to kill her. If he had wanted her dead there had already been numerous opportunities for that.
"You can't even keep your eyes open, witch," he replied. "Go to sleep. You are going to need the energy for our journey ahead."
He turned his back to her and stared off into the jungle, effectively ending the discussion. Hermione reluctantly obliged, leaning back against the earth and root matter and falling asleep within moments. Thankfully, she didn't dream of a particular werewolf this time and was instead blanketed by an inky black oblivion. That peace was shattered a few hours later when she woke to a bird screeching overhead. Hermione opened her eyes, still dozing on and off, and for a brief second she didn't see Fenrir but a large hulking gray wolf. A few moments later she opened her eyes fully and it was gone. Instead it was Fenrir once more, his back still turned to her as it had been when she fell asleep. She convinced herself the strange sight had simply been a trick of a half asleep mind.
"Rise and shine, beautiful," Fenrir said over his shoulder when he noticed her stir.
"How long was I out?" Hermione said, trying to ignore his too-friendly greeting and the creeping blush it elicited from her cheeks. She didn't hear endearments very often, not even when she had been dating Ron, and it momentarily caught her off guard. She hated to admit she liked the way it sounded in Fenrir's deep voice. Get ahold of yourself, Hermione chided inwardly. Also note to self stop reading so much Jane Austen. Although she doubted she would follow through with the latter as the tattered copy of Pride and Prejudice was a permanent fixture of her bedroom nightstand.
She leaned forward and felt the prison shirt stick to her back from the jungle's humidity.
"Just a few hours but we need to get going now if we want to make some distance before sunset," he said as he stood to stretch. Hermione blinked when he extended a hand to help her up. She took it cautiously and got to her feet as well.
Hermione dug through her rucksack, grateful that she still had it after the chaos of the escape. She took out a water bottle and offered Fenrir the first sip. He took a drink before passing it to her, the water was warm but given how parched she was Hermione still found it refreshing.
"Quick thinking to have grabbed supplies," Fenrir remarked as she put the bottle away.
Hermione hesitated before answering, as though weighing whether she wanted to tell him the truth. The witch determined that for the time being they were on the same side and she had no trouble telling him, "I was already in the middle of trying to escape when the werewolves attacked."
"And where were you going to go?" Fenrir said as the two began to walk.
"The docks, or at least as close as I could get to them without being caught. Williams knew that I had my suspicions and made it very clear that my life was in danger."
"Ah, I see," Fenrir said. "The captain was a very dangerous man, you were smart to try and get away."
After they had been walking in comfortable silence for a bit, Hermione broached the question that had been on her mind for awhile. "May I ask you something?"
"Hm?"
"Are you infected? Like them?" Hermione asked. It was a sensitive subject. However she considered it to be one of great importance as it pertained to her own immediate safety. Had Hermione not been so exhausted from their escape she would have thought to ask it sooner.
"No," he said briskly and there was a shadow in his expression that Hermione found uncomfortable. "I am not like them. You can tell by looking at the eyes. Those that had received whatever potion the prison was cooking up have those glowing red eyes."
Fenrir paused and turned to look at Hermione, his gold eyes meeting her brown ones. "See? I am perfectly sane."
"Define sane," Hermione said bluntly and Fenrir laughed.
"Valid point, witch."
"You know I do have a name," she said as they continued walking. Hermione was not sure why she cared what he called her or why she felt compelled to fill the silence with conversation. Every bit of the past 24 hours seemed far removed from the life she had known until recently.
"Yes but Your-Royal-Highness-Pain-in-the-Arse seems a bit long," Fenrir replied with a grin.
"Fenrir Greyback, the UK's most feared werewolf and evidently the resident comedian," Hermione said.
"How did you know I did stand up on the weekends?" he replied and Hermione hated to admit she enjoyed the banter as it lifted her spirits even just briefly.
"If you prefer it, I will call you Hermione," he said in a more serious tone.
"I would," she said.
"Then I only ask that you call me Fenrir."
Hermione hesitated, unsure of whether she liked the idea of knowing him as simply Fenrir. She was still struggling to synthesize this version of the werewolf with what she had thought him to be. More importantly, how could she find Fenrir Greyback in the least bit charming?
But even in her moment of doubt she nodded, "Fenrir it is."
She wondered if Fenrir had sensed her hesitation but if he did the werewolf said nothing of it. Instead there was a flicker of a smile on his lips as they continued onward.
Hours passed and Hermione was grateful to see a tall tower in the distance just as the first drops of rain began to fall across her face. By the time they reached the radio center Hermione and Fenrir were being pelted by the rain as a storm descended upon them.
"Wait here," Fenrir said as they approached the tower. "I will go make sure it's clear first."
He did not give Hermione time to respond before he disappeared into the brush. Hermione lost sight of him altogether and for several long minutes she stood shivering in the rain, clutching her wand in preparation that they might not be alone. Hermione suppressed a yell of surprise when Fenrir eventually re-appeared behind her.
"All clear," he said.
They quickly made their way inside the shack perched beneath the tower. Made up of only one room it was mostly full of cobwebs and shelves with some antiquated manuals. Hermione took her wand and cast a spell to light the torches in the room. She spotted a small desk, the entirety of its surface taken up by the radio system.
Hermione dropped her rucksack by the desk's chair, going over to radio and turning on the switch eagerly. To her delight it actually turned on, which at least settled her first fear that the machine wouldn't be functional. However there was nothing but a loud hum of static at that was foreboding. She turned the dial several times, switching between channels only to hear the same static played back each time. Fenrir was standing nearby, arms crossed against his chest as he watched in curiosity.
"Do you know how to use it?" He asked.
"Sort of," she said. "My grandpa fought in WWII back in the day. He kept a lot of his gear and used to let me play with his old HAM radio when I was a kid. This has a similar set up but I'm not getting anything; I think it might be because of the storm though."
Hermione didn't want to admit that it could also simply mean no one was in range. Or that the device was in fact broken. There were a lot of things that could explain why it was nothing but static but Hermione did not want to dwell on those possibilities. Not yet, at least.
"Then we wait until the storm ends and try again later," he said and nodded to the nearby furnace . "We should probably get a fire started. I would normally be afraid it would attract the others but I don't think they will be out in this weather. And I am more concerned about the particular shade of blue you're turning."
Hermione frowned at the remark but the chatter of her teeth confirmed the werewolf was likely right about her appearance. She lifted her wand to the furnace and it burst to life with a steady flame. Fenrir sat down near it and she turned away from the radio equipment to join him.
"Why aren't you cold?" She said, noticing Fenrir looked perfectly fine if not wet from the rain. She tried not stare too much at the way the rain drops glistened on his bare skin.
"It's a werewolf thing. Our bodies run warmer than normal mortals," he explained.
Hermione was fascinated although she was wary to ask too many questions. In her work dealing with magical creature law she had learned to walk a fine line with clients as she tried to come off as their ally without expecting them to divulge more than they cared to share. Most beings she had met, particularly werewolves and vampires, were secretive about their kind and Hermione tried to respect that.
"I can see you are dying to ask me more," Fenrir said as though reading her thoughts.
"I do have a lot of questions," she admitted. "But I do not wish to pry."
"We have time and little else to do. Ask away," he said.
Hermione and Fenrir spent the rest of the evening in discussion of various topics, from pack hierarchy to the variations of traits among werewolves. Hermione was enthralled by the knowledge of the werewolf's hidden world.
Fenrir was surprised by his own willingness to divulge the information to an "outsider" but a stray thought flickered across his mind. Hermione isn't an outsider. He could feel instinctively just by being in such close proximity to the witch that she was something more.
Something special.
He tried to convince himself that he was bored and found her conversation entertaining. Or perhaps more grimly, that he didn't believe they would really make it out of this situation alive. His human thoughts ran parallel to what the wolf within him was trying to convey.
Her scent, the animal within urged. She smells different than any werewolf or witch.
Fenrir's conscious mind did not know what to do with such information. In all his long years of existing between two worlds he was stumped for the very first time as to what this meant.
He had sensed the difference in her scent long before now. Back to their very first encounter there had been something unique about Hermione that captured his attention but the werewolf had written off until now. And even sure he wasn't certain what it meant.
Eventually the evening deepened and Fenrir could not help but silently laugh as Hermione fell asleep midsentence. The fire began to dim and the cabin's comfortable warmth waned as the storm outside raged on. As Hermione's body slumped forward where she still sat Fenrir unthinkingly scooped her up as he leaned against the cabin wall. She slept soundly against his chest, the unnatural heat of his own body keeping her warm.
Eventually Fenrir too succumbed to sleep.