Chapter 4 – Some Truth
Hermione stood motionless, trying to sort out everything she was feeling as the werewolf stood calmly in front of her. He was quiet and still now; seemingly content. Unfortunately, the moment, whatever kind of respite it was, did not last long.
The witch willed her body to stiffen as Fenrir moved toward her once again. He was so close now. She could feel the heat radiating from his lips. Her heart began to pound, but to her horror, she realized that it was not from fear, but from anticipation. What kind of spell is this? It was not like any kind of love potion she had heard of before. It had to be some kind of magic. Greyback may have been deluded, but he was a powerful wizard, there was no denying that. He was crazy; steeped so far into his own lies that he was willing to take them into his own hands to make them a reality. She blatantly ignored the part of her mind that told her that he could be telling the truth; the same part that told her he was not exactly bad looking. A ridiculous thought.
Hermione's mind went blank as the heat from the werewolf's lips brushed hers. An unwelcome feeling coursed through her; not fear or disgust, she would have welcomed either of those; but of excitement. He was going to kiss her. Her mind practically buzzed with exhilaration for an instant after his lips met hers with a soft pressure. Then, the instant was over; her thoughts managed to catch up with her body and she reacted without thought to consequences. She just wanted him to stop touching her. She bit down as hard as she could on the werewolf's lower lip.
"Stop it!" she screamed. "Whatever you are doing to my head! Please. Please stop." She clutched her head in her hands, confused and sobbing. She did not see the enraged look in the werewolf's eyes as he wiped the blood from his wound off of his face.
Fenrir's loud growl broke her out of her own head. She did not bother to hide the tears that poured from her eyes as she met his. Her heart pounded in her chest, he was going to kill her. Her brain registered the sound of cracking bone, but she did not believe what was happening before her. She watched in horror as the werewolf's jaw extended, his teeth growing longer and sharper.
Then he spoke, his voice no longer human. If a wolf could speak, Hermione imagined it would make a very similar sound. It was a growl that formed words. She was not sure when the growl ended and speech began.
"You will respect me, mate," he spat, blood dripping from his lips as he pushed her roughly against the wall. "You will learn your place."
She knew now that he had been telling the truth; partly at any rate. He was very different from Lupin; from anything she had ever even heard of. What he was doing was not possible; but there it was, right in front of her eyes.
"My place?!" she shouted at him, "I am not some floozy that can be ordered around! I will not be subservient to anyone! Especially not you. There's no such thing as mates! You are just like the rest of us, except you are mad!"
His snarl of rage silenced her ranting and she shrunk away from him.
"Do I look human, mate?"
"N—No." Hermione stammered, trembling.
"What makes you think I will act human?"
She knew he would be angry with her answer, but she was angry as well; and if he hadn't killed her yet, perhaps he really was not going to. "Remus."
The werewolf snorted. "He refuses to even claim his mate. He clings to humanity though it will eventually kill him. A sentiment I do not share."
Fenrir snarled. He wanted to claim her now; to clamp his jaws around her the nape of her neck and mix his scent with hers. He wanted to mark her so that no one else would touch her, but something told him not to. He had to be patient with her. Licking his mostly healed lip, he buried his nose in her hair once more. Her neck was so close, it was so tempting to just sink his teeth into her shoulder and be done with it. He settled for planting a kiss on the nape of her neck.
"You're lucky I heal quickly, pup," he growled softly, allowing his face to relax and return to its normal state. He did not want to scare her more than she was already; he was beginning to hate the scent of her fear. It was a scent that caused him immediate alarm and a great deal of stress. He could not alleviate her fear because it was he she was afraid of, and that was not likely to change any time soon. He sighed, he had to start somewhere. Perhaps she would be willing to listen now. He reluctantly pulled away from the trembling young woman, frowning when she dropped to the floor. He squatted beside her.
"You know, not all the bad things you have heard are true either. Contrary to popular belief, I do not eat children."
She stared up skeptically at him through tearful eyes. She was beautiful, even as she was now. "So the press lied?"
"Is that such a strange concept?" He grinned. "No," he admitted, his grin turning to a sober face, "They were muggle children. I did not know they were not strong enough to handle the change. It was an accident."
"You still attacked them!"
Fenrir grit his teeth, it would be a long time before she understood him, "The transition is easier when it occurs during childhood."
"It wasn't easier for Remus," she countered.
Fenrir growled irritably; she could not let the Lupin whelp go. "Did that mutt ever tell you how he became a werewolf?"
"No, but from the way he speaks of you, I imagine it was your fault."
"I bit him, yes." He quickly continued before she could interrupt him, "I bit him because his father had been persecuting my kind for his whole life. His father could not see past his prejudices. I think you know something of that. His father finally stopped hunting us after his son was changed."
The young woman bit her lip; Fenrir could tell she was carefully considering his words. He had hit the mark correctly with the reminder that some were as prejudiced against werewolves as they were against muggleborns. She had been teased about her heritage for years; perhaps she would sympathize.
"What about the missing children?"
"You cannot blame all the world's disappearances on me, mate," he skirted.
"I can if it is true you took them." She glared at him.
"I did not take them." He stared into her soft brown eyes, trusting her to find no lie in his. "I take runaways and urchins. Those with nowhere else to go."
"You prey upon the unfortunate and curse them!" she said vehemently. She was angry again; he much preferred this scent over the scent of fear.
"Yes. Cursed to a life of food, and shelter, and a family. Very horrible." He smirked. "It's more than most of them ever had."
She snorted. "Fenrir Greyback, the philanthropist. Nice try."
"I am certainly no saint; but, then again, who is?" He watched as she opened her mouth to respond; having a feeling he knew what she was about to say, he threatened, "If you say Remus Lupin one more time, I will bite you." She closed her mouth again and Fenrir smirked. She did not know that he could not turn her now, not without the aid of the moon. It was an effective threat, for now. She was a smart witch; she would figure it out eventually.
He rocked back onto the floor so he was sitting next to her; she seemed to be trying to work up the courage to speak again. He cocked his head to the side, curious to see what she would say next.
"Why—" she began hesitantly, "Why aren't you a Death Eater?" she managed, glancing at his bare arms.
He snorted, and regretted the sound when it made her jump. "As I said before, some are just as prejudiced against us as they are against you. Do you think the Dark Lord would make you a Death Eater, even if you wanted it?"
"No, I suppose not. Then, why do you follow him?"
Fenrir shook his head at the young woman. "He may hate us, but he is willing to give us our freedom for our aid. Your Order has given us no such offer, nor do I expect them to. We do not want to be hunted anymore. Both sides want us to lie down like pets, but one seeks to control us, while the other only wishes to unleash us."
"So you can kill who you please with no consequences?"
"I cannot hunt anything without bringing someone down to take off my head. If I kill a deer, someone screams that it will be her child next. I would simply like to hunt again," he replied calmly to her accusations. "I am not human, Hermione. I cannot be caged like this."
She stared at him. "You…You said my name."
"Did I, mate?" He flashed a grin at her as he smelled her anger return.
Hermione thought about the werewolf's explanation. It was logical, but was it true? She could not concentrate on trying to work it all out; not with him grinning at her like that. It reminded her so much of a wolf; it was a wonder how anyone could mistake him for anything but what he was. He did not seem all bad, however. He was certainly not gentle or mild, but he had not really hurt her at all. It could all be an act. But what if it isn't?
Hermione squashed her thoughts as he reached for her face. She cringed as his hand closed the distance. His fingers gently cupped her chin and brought her face around to meet his. She followed the gentle pressure, but unbidden tears betrayed her fear. She did not want him to see how weak she was, but neither did she want to keep fighting only to be snarled at. He already knows you are not as strong as you pretend to be, Mione, she told herself. She truly began to cry as the werewolf wiped her tears away with a gentle thumb. His smirk was gone, replaced with a concerned stare.
"Don't cry, love," he said softly; a gesture that made her only cry harder.
"I am not yours!" she cried, "I am not anyone's."
Fenrir nodded slowly, his golden eyes never leaving hers. He surprised her when he stood, gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead and left without another word.
Fenrir was unsure what to do; for the first time in a long time, he was at a loss. The young woman was trying to be so independent, but she was crumbling. He had to fight the urge to wrap his arms around her and bury his face in her hair as she cried; that would only have made the problem worse. She didn't trust him. He let out a sigh that was far closer to a whine than he had intended. He needed to find Mensis; the younger wolf would have something to say about this.
A/N: Well, at least he's trying, right?