Disclaimer: I do not own the works made use of herein, none of the Harry Potter features or characters belong to me. I make no money from this work. (Basically, if you recognise it, it's not mine.)

Warnings: Rated M for situations, LOTS OF swearing, violence, sexual scenes, minor character death, graphic descriptions of murder victims, references to cannibalism, torture...

Apples and Oranges

Chapter Ten

"Get the fuck off of me!"

His little mate flipped out. There was no other way to describe what happened. Suddenly she was kicking and scratching with a strength he'd thought - okay, maybe hoped - she wouldn't be capable of for at least a few hours yet. Some of his pack turned, watching the scene curiously, and he glowered at them.

"Stop struggling, damnit! You'll hurt yourself!"

"And deprive you of the satisfaction?!" She growled, a little hysterically. He frowned down at her, but that didn't stop her. If anything, she only struggled more, before turning her head and digging her sharp little teeth into his bicep.

Well. That was something.

Fen released her out of reflex, surprised at the speed with which his cock jumped to attention. Hermione tumbled to the floor, landing on her pert little arse and scrambling backward across the grass, all the while scowling fiercely in his direction. Gods, but she was adorable. All tiny and soft, but with the soul of a warrior. He didn't think he'd ever get tired of her, not really.

"You're dead!" She cried, pointing a finger accusingly in his direction, as if he'd lived simply to taunt her.

"News to me," he grinned, spreading his hands wide. "I certainly don't feel dead." Nope, not with his prick so very, very hard. He felt more alive than he had in years. The way her bottom lip poked out, plush and delicious, the way her hips swayed enticingly as she climbed to her feet. She seemed to want to meet him on even footing, but that just wasn't going to happen, not with him standing six-foot something next to her tiny doll figure.

So small. So breakable. When he'd heard that she was stuck in that bar… Burning… The potential of her, of them, snuffed out? He'd torn the place apart to get to her, ripped his way through the damn wards with his bare hands.

That, more than anything, confirmed what he'd already knew. No flimsy wards could keep a wolf from his Mate.

On that thought, another growl rumbled through his chest, and he took a step forward, only to be matched by her taking a step back. His Mate.

She bared her teeth and his balls tightened automatically, his wolf praising her the best way he knew how. He loved a strong woman.

It especially pleased him that if the Ministry had to interfere in Pack issues, it would be her to do so. Traditionally, it would be the female Alpha's job to mediate disputes where a fight wouldn't settle matters, but he'd not had one of those for a while now. But now… Now there was the Granger girl, and he'd have her if he could.

"Back off!" she screamed, scrabbling for something at her belt. Her wand. She must have lost it in the fire. She wasn't deterred, however, throwing her fists in front of her in a boxing stance, which triggered a mass sucking of air from the crowd. "I'll fight you!" She cried.

"You don' wanna fight me, little one," Fen chuckled, keeping his hands at his sides. He did turn his palms outward, though, in a gesture of peace. He didn't fancy riling her even more.

"I will," she warned, but the lack of confrontation seemed to flummox her, and her arms trembled. Fenrir eyed them with concern.

"You need healing," he pointed out with a frown. "Yer weak. Carla!"

The roar echoed, stunning Granger, and within seconds their pack healer was pushing her way through the crowds, Doc Elinor on her heels. "Yes, Alpha?" she asked, shooting a concerned glance at the girl. Doc Elinor, beside her, sneered and crossed her arms.

"See to Granger, would'ya? Can't afford to have 'er die on us." He scowled at Doc Elinor. "An' what're you doing here?"

"I'm a doctor, too," she snapped, then seemed to recognise who she was talking to, for she fixed a subservient 'Alpha' into the end.

"Aye, two doctors in one Pack, and aren't we blessed," he snorted. "I didn't call fer you."

Doc Elinor huffed indignantly. "Alpha, I am perfectly capable of assisting."

"Then why don't ye go assist Agata? Bet she's tired of Simidh and Angus' clumsy paws, ain't that right, love?"

This was tossed over his shoulder to where he could feel Agata straining to check on Granger. He didn't look away from Doc Elinor. She was the sort of bitch that if given an inch, she'd take a mile. And he wasn't giving no miles when it came to his Mate.

"Very kind of you, Alpha," Agata sang, her dulcet tones unmarred by the fire. "I do have a tickle in my throat, Dr. Wallace; perhaps you could take a look?"

Doc Elinor glared at Agata, her face twisted in disgust, but bowed her head to him and went to her anyway, so Fenrir turned his attention back to Granger. She, unlike Doc Elinor, had no qualms against glaring at him; her eyes shot such fire he could almost feel their touch on his skin, making him shudder. "She alright, Carla?" he called, without moving any closer. He didn't have a death wish, cute as the lass was when angry.

"I am fine," Granger growled, even as she submitted to Carla's poking and prodding.

"She does appear so," Carla backed her up, though there was a touch of doubt in her tone as she ran her fingers through the younger woman's hair, her fingers emerging touched by streaks of blood. "You'll need to heal these cuts, get an unguent against infection. The good news is that you don't seem to have a concussion; the bad news, you've probably fractured your ankle, if not worse. I recommend getting yourself checked up at Mungo's." At Fen's warning growl, Carla tossed her hair to pin him with a no-nonsense look. "We don't have the resources to heal you here. Elinor and I are Muggles, and even Mary-Rose, who's our most advanced with healing charms, isn't nearly qualified enough to touch you. We could wrap it, but…"

"Give me a wand," Granger snapped, hand palm-out. "I'll do it."

"Oh, no you will not!" Fenrir took a step forward, alarmed, only to stop when she tensed, the motion making her hiss in pain.

"You're in too much pain for that," Carla told her soothingly, chastising him with her eyes.

"Then bring me your most powerful witch; I'll teach them the spell. Ah-" She held her hand up to forestall Carla's protest. "If I go to Mungo's, the Aurory will find out. If they find out, I'll be removed from the case and you'll get someone else. Someone with no experience with werewolves, likely someone with no sympathy for you. Not only that, but as I've been injured in your territory, a team will come in and tear the place apart, searching for any evidence of criminal activity and arresting you at will. That is not, I'm sure, something your Alpha will want."

Fenrir winced, knowing that was true. But she was hurt. Conflict raged within him for a moment, before a smile spread across his face. Several people in the vicinity flinched.

"Are your people still here?" he asked, crooking a finger to Simidh, who'd been hovering on the sidelines since leaving Agata in Doc Elinor's care, his arms around a stoic Isbeil, who had been quiet, for once in her life. Fen spared a moment to watch her narrowly. That woman acting out of character was always a cause for concern. And when did she get here, anyway?

Granger's eyes flared wide. "I - I'm not sure. I'd forgotten…"

"Auror Lupin and her team left a few hours ago," Simidh said, smiling slightly at Granger. The fact that she smiled back made Fenrir want to break his nose, but this wasn't the time or place. "Miss Lovegood left a note, I was coming to give it to you when I saw the blaze."

He produced an envelope, which Fenrir snatched from his hands before he could give it to Granger. She scowled fiercely, but he was too quick in opening it for her to complain, not that it stopped her indignant "Oi!".

Hello Hermione!

Such a fun day trip, thank you! I've got some things to show you in the morning, so I'll be around at eight. Please let the gatekeeper know, he was quite spooked when we turned up this morning.

I hope the investigation is going well. Wolves are fascinating creatures, aren't they? And such fun to play with. Don't stress about the Ministry - I have a feeling this is exactly where you need to be.

See you soon,

Luna.

P.S. I know you told me not to experiment so much, but I have a feeling this will be needed. Take it, just in case.

Fenrir tipped the envelope upside down and out slithered a thin elastic bandage that sparkled slightly in the glow of the smoldering bar. On one side, in a wonky cursive, the word 'integrus' had been written. He barked a laugh, unable to stop himself, then tossed it, along with the letter across to Granger.

The smile that lit her face was affectionate as she read it. "How does she know?" She shook her head wryly. Awkwardly, leaning on Carla for support, she reached forward to loop the material around her leg. It was a slow job, working with one hand as she was, but she made a noise of disent when Carla went to help. "I can do it," she insisted, grimacing as she stretched her side. It was painful to watch.

Without conscious thought, Fenrir found himself kneeling at her feet, taking the bandage from her hands with authority. Shocked, it took her a moment to gather herself, but Fen was ready to parry her argument with his customary eloquence.

"Shut up," he commanded gruffly, nodding at Carla, who casually reached out and tucked Granger's hand into hers. With quick motions, he pulled the bandage away and rewrapped it, correctly this time. If he was going to do something, he'd do it right.

Rocking back on his heels, he splayed a hand towards the affected ankle in a 'after you' motion.

Granger didn't take her suspicious eyes from his face as she said the spell, which meant that he had the pleasure of a good view when she gasped, an orgasmic sort of pleasurable relief rolling over her. The amber of her eyes deepened, blurred, while her body shuddered, ankle skin heating visibly. Her sweet, pink mouth dropped open to show pearly white teeth touched by a delicate, glistening tongue.

"Merlin," she grunted when it was over, and Fenrir's cock couldn't help but concur.

"Go away, I have things to do."

"I'll join you."

Hermione didn't want to admit how much the implacable tone of his voice affected her, but the shiver in her body betrayed that wish. It was so low, so gravelly… And the voice of a murderer!

Unfortunately, her conscience had nothing on her libido when it came to matters of sexy werewolves.

It was probably the shock, she reassured herself. Being in a fire, breaking one's leg and slicing up one's skin could have a queer effect on the body, making one more susceptible to advances that, when one had a full grasp of their sanity, would be considered repellent. It was an inconvenience that she could have done without, but one was forced to make do with what they had, and this was a make-do occasion.

She desperately needed to investigate this crime. It was a massive job for one person alone, but what other choice did she have? It was true that if the Ministry found out about this, they would take away the case - if only to protect their precious Hermione Granger, second-most photogenic Auror, judiciary golden goose. Well, they'd have to rip it from her cold, dead claws, and if the threat of that meant she had to do the jobs of several dozen Aurors all by lonesome, then she damn well would.

"I can help you," the irritating tick was saying now, reaching over her head to bat away midgies.

"I don't need your help," she snapped, refusing to give the man the satisfaction of looking at him. She didn't have time to be distracted, she needed to come up with an action plan. "If you haven't noticed, I'm doing just fine on my own!"

A broken off snigger had her hackles shooting up. "You think you could'a gotten this far on yer own, little one? Yer cuter than I thought."

A growl burst from her throat without her permission, and she whipped around to face him. "What the Hell are you talking about?"

He looked so bloody smug, her hand itched to slap him. "Why'd ye think everyone's bein' so nice an' accomodatin'? It's not because they love the feckin' Ministry, now, is it?"

Against her express orders, her mouth dropped open, the sheer gall of the man stunning her. She was about to give him a piece of her mind - well earned, she must say - when the implications of what he'd said struck.

"You ordered them to be nice to me," she said dully.

He cocked his head, wolf-yellow eyes examining her curiously. The canine gesture was only enhanced by the flavour of his confusion: a loyal dog who cannot understand why his human is acting like she is. She had seen that exact expression on Tobey, the cockapoodle her aunt used to bring around on weekends when she was a child, when her aunt had cried at her grandfather's funeral. There was a touch of desperation to it, a how do I make it stop!

"Don't you look at me like that," she snapped, even more annoyed now, for the adorability of the expression unnerved her.

"Why're you upset at me now?" he demanded, exasperated. "I was only helpin'."

"Yes, I'm sure for you, that was helping." She spit the words out in a staccato beat, sarcasm highly evident. And maybe she was a little shrill. Maybe. "For me, that merely muddies the waters! How am I meant to know who is genuine and who is not, now? Their true characters are obscured by your machinations!"

"Machinations?" He tasted the word, rolling it about his mouth as if he'd never heard it before. Even through her anger, Hermione could feel the pleasure-filled sigh of her uterus. "Lass, I only told 'em to be pleasant. Didn't tell 'em to lie." His eyes lit on her face and comprehension seemed to dawn. "Oh, aye, I get it. You liked 'em, and now yer feelin' betrayed."

"No," Hermione spat, ignoring the flush in her cheeks and the deflation in her chest that all belied her denial.

"Yes!" For some unfathomable reason, Greyback grinned, his eyes lighting up as if someone had brought him the moon on a string. "Aye, but that's-that's sweet of ye, lass. And they like you, too. Simidh can't stop praisin' ye, despite how you don't seem to have gotten nothin' done 'cept nearly killin' my Agata."

"I did not-!" she cut herself off, clamping her lips together before biting down on them, for good measure. Breathe, Hermione. "Look, Greyback. I have things to do. I can't stand here arguing with you all night."

"At least yer arguin' and not attackin'," Greyback grumbled, apparently assuming she couldn't hear him. Prick. "Look, I got some of me lads to check out the bar and Mary-Rose is try'na figure out where everyone was. I'm no Auror, o'course, but reckoned it would be useful."

"For the last time, Greyback," Hermione seethed, seeing red at the very idea that this man thought she was so incompetent that a few amateur were-sleuths could sub in for her, "I do not need your help!"

This last screech echoed through the night, drawing eyes across to them. Hermione sucked in a breath, then another, in a futile attempt to keep a grip on herself. The sky was spinning, the stars blurring into each other, and there appeared to be three Greybacks stood before her. She gave a wobbly scowl.

"Well, if yer gonna object so much, you might as well know. Not doin' it fer you, love," Greyback said pleasantly. "Doin' it 'cause I'm the Alpha, and it's my job. I'd be doing it, anyway. This fire is not your-" he scratched his ear absently as he searched for the word. "Jurisdiction, aye, that's it."

Panting through the dizziness, Hermione attempted a glare, but she thought that it might not have come off very well when Greyback suddenly looked concerned. "If that's true," she burbled, finding herself having to force her mouth to sound out the words. Her limbs were curiously heavy, but she recognised fatigue when she felt it - as usual, she'd just power through. Some coffee would be nice, though. What had she been saying? Ah, yes. "If that's true," she repeated, "then why'd you follow me? You should be-should be-"

Her legs gave out, toppling to the ground, where she found the grass curiously soft and cozy. Something settled atop her, rough-hewn but soft, and she snuggled into the blanket. Really, it felt exactly like her bed. So much like her bed, that she couldn't resist sliding her eyes shut, just got a moment. A few seconds, at the most. Boy, but she really was tired…