Massive thanks to CatherineMorganstern for all her help and support. I couldn't do it withot you 3


It seemed to take forever for all of the wolves to have their magic bound. Each of them returned to the cage with a stripe of red across their cheek and a bewildered look darkening their eyes. As soon as they crossed the threshold, Fenrir would stride to them and press his hand onto their shoulder before leaning towards them to mutter reassurances into their ears. Hermione merely watched from her corner of the cage, the side of her face throbbing with a never ending heat that spiralled into the bones of her jaw. She was waiting for the Fey to fade into the trees so she could finally tell the others what she'd discovered.

Between each wolf returning, Fenrir would crouch down beside her and skim his hands up and down her arm. Sometimes, he would lean forward to nuzzle at the skin between her neck and jaw. She pushed him away each time, cursing her twitching pelvis. And then cursing herself and the urge she had to pull him back and bury her face in his chest.

Another wolf returned and the last one was taken away. Fenrir pushed to his feet, the muscles in his thighs flexing as he ambled to the door to calm him down. Hermione watched from beneath her lashes, wondering what the feelings stirring inside her meant. Were they just hormones? Or was there something else happening that she didn't want to acknowledge? Something the old her wouldn't have dreamt of contemplating. But what she could admit, if only to herself, was that she desperately wanted him. Or rather the wolf did. And the wolf and her were now one and the same...well not quite, but almost.

Yet, the question that kept spinning around her mind in an endless dizzying circle was this: Did she want to have sex with him again? Not the wolf. But her, Hermione Granger. And the startling, terrifying answer was yes. Yes, she did. Sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, she pulled her gaze away from him and onto her fidgeting hands. They were pale in the rapidly darkening light, flittering about like restless birds. She had the absurd notion that if she didn't clench them together and press them into her thighs they would fly away, pulling her up and into the trees with them. Her eyes drifted up, tracing the imaginary path her hands would take through the twisted branches.

Blinking, her gaze fell on one of the Fey. He was high up, perching on a branch that was so thin, she wondered how it was holding his weight. The silvery strands of his hair hung like cobwebs amongst the leaves. His face was a white blur tipped towards her. She couldn't see his eyes but she could feel him watching her. His attention like a lancing probe that jabbed at her with irritating insistence. She wondered if he was their Fey, the one who'd taken them, but then decided that it didn't matter. They were all monsters, each and every one of them. Pretty creatures formed from ice and nightmares.

If she concentrated, pushed aside her throbbing cheek and twitching nerves, she could feel the gaping hole where her magic had been scooped out. It was an odd feeling, like missing something elusive, but unable to pinpoint it without it slipping away at the last moment.

The Fey she was watching suddenly moved, slithering down the branches with balletic grace to land on the floor as gently as a snowflake. Hermione frowned, seeing the others drop from the trees to settle on the damp earth at various points around the forest. She twisted aside to see that the last wolf had returned, merging into his pack mates the moment he stepped into the cage. The door creaked shut, sealing them inside. One drawn out second stretched into forever and then the cage began to sway as it was pulled back up into the trees.

Fenrir walked towards her, effortlessly keeping his balance as he crouched down to hover over her.

"I have something to tell you," she whispered. "Will the Fey hear us?"

His head tilted, eyes losing focus for a moment as he listened. "Best to wait."

Hermione nodded and scratched absently at her knees through the faded fabric of her jeans. Every place on her body seemed to itch. She froze when Fenrir settled beside her, his long legs stretching out, arm and shoulder pressing into hers, his body drenching her in heat. A hot blush spread from her neck and up into her cheeks as a jumble of images began to dance through her brain. Him, naked and pressing into her. His head between her legs as he lapped at her slippery folds. Her own body panting and desperate and so unbelievably aroused that she barely recognised herself.

She scuttled further into the corner and glared at him in silent accusation. Every hormone she'd managed to squeeze into a little ball and shove into the depths of her soul burst free, instantly making her clench and throb. All because he'd sat next her. Her eyes narrowed at the growing heat in his as she began to silently recite potion ingredients. Determined not to let her body or the wolf get what they wanted. At least not now anyway.

Fenrir reached across to touch his fingers to her thigh.

"Don't touch me!" Hermione hissed, knowing that if he did, she'd melt into a puddle and do whatever he wanted. Watching wolves or not.

He pulled his hand back, clenching it into a white-knuckled fist which he then placed carefully by his side. Anger began to rise off him at her reluctance to allow his touch.

"Is it safe to talk now?" she whispered.

He grunted.

She switched her gaze to the other wolves. "Come over here."

A ripple of surprise spread through them, every eye turning to Fenrir for permission. He nodded his head, temper forgotten as he watched her with growing interest. Hermione waited until they'd all crept nearer, the cage listing to the side with the weight of everyone crowding into one corner.

"You're sure it's safe to talk?" she murmured.

Fenrir listened again. This time for longer and far more intently, even flaring his nostrils to scent the air. "I'm sure."

Leaning forward over his legs, she let a small smile creep onto her lips. It pulled at the wound on her cheek causing a stabbing pain to penetrate her jaw. She dropped the smile and frowned instead. "I know how to break the bond."

She saw every one of them stiffen with surprised eagerness. Their eyes shone with excitement as their bodies unconsciously shifted forward. She glanced at Fenrir, a shiver ran down the length of her spine at the intense way he was watching her.

"When Remus first began teaching at Hogwarts, I knew there was something... different about him." She crossed her legs and shuffled around until she was facing them more fully. "I only figured it out when Professor Snape set us an assignment about Werewolves. I-"

"What does this have to do with breaking the bond?" a wolf interrupted.

Hermione glared. "If you let me finish, I'll tell you!" she hissed.

Beside her Fenrir chuckled. A low rumble that made her stomach flip back on itself. She scowled and looked back at the waiting wolves.

"I read everything I could on Werewolves… everything, but even then there wasn't a lot. Bits and pieces, most of it superstitious nonsense and lies, but I remember one passage." Her eyes closed as she tried to recall the exact words. "It said that the wolves are essentially different from the humans they inhabit. A bit like a parasite piggy-backing onto a host. We share the same things: food, air, thoughts and feelings." Here she opened her eyes and looked at Fenrir. "But we don't share the same magic. I didn't understand what that meant until I saw my wolf during the binding. She was hidden deep inside and the moment I saw her, I knew we weren't the same. Her magic wasn't the same as mine. We humans have magic, but our wolves are made of magic."

His eyes flickered as what she'd said registered in his brain. A feral smile began to slowly creep onto his face and she knew he understood. When she looked once more at the others, she saw that they didn't. It was like being back with Ron and Harry all over again.

"That means that the Fey Lady has bound our magic, but not the wolves." She shared another look with Fenrir. "She can control us now, but when we change, she won't be able to control our wolves."

"The binding won't work?" one of the wolves asked.

Hermione shook her head. "Not on your wolf."

"So we wait for the change and then escape?" he asked.

Fenrir stared at the wolf who'd spoken. "No" he paused, fixing each of them with a intent look, "we slaughter the fuckers."

Hermione winced. That wasn't quite what she'd had in mind. "The others don't matter. But we have to kill the Lady. If she doesn't die, she'll be able to control us again once we change back."

"We kill them all." Fenrir's hard voice cut across the darkness.

The other wolves nodded eagerly, their eyes shining with undisguised bloodlust, already imagining their teeth tearing into flesh and the metallic taste of blood on their lips. Hermione shuddered, dreading the coming change and the possible aftermath. Fenrir made some kind of gesture of dismissal with his fingers. A quick flick that they all seemed to understand.

"You don't mention this again. Not to each other or anyone else. We let the wolves take care of the Fey," he ordered as the men began to retreat to the other side of the cage.

The moment they were settled, he turned to Hermione, reaching forward to slip his hand under her thigh and pull her onto his lap. It happened so fast that she didn't have time to protest.

"I'm not-"

"I know," Fenrir said, wrapping his arms more firmly around her waist. "We'll do that tomorrow when we're alone."

She huffed at his confidence. "We might never do that again," she warned.

"Hmm," he replied, darting forward to lick a strip of heat along the side of her neck.

"Stop it!" she hissed, pushing off his lap and arranging herself on the floor. "And you better not send me any more bloody dreams."

Fenrir grinned. A wide expression that framed his sharp teeth. Hermione shook her head, wondering how he could do that with the wound on his face. Her own had settled into a dull ache that throbbed every time she moved her mouth. Sighing she shuffled down until she was laying on her side facing away from him. She remained that way for several hours, staring into space and blinking into the night. Sleep eventually tugged her under in the early hours of the morning.

-0-

It was blessedly cool when she woke up the next day. The light breeze chilled her burning flesh and dried the sweat coating her forehead. Her symptoms had returned. The itchy, blood boiling feeling of wanting to shed her own skin. The constant need to move had her jiggling her legs up and down impatiently, which was only amplified by the other wolves who suffered from the same restlessness. It was driving Hermione mad and rapidly getting on her last nerve. None of them could keep still. Even Fenrir was pacing up and down, glancing at her every few seconds with a hungry expression.

Finally a Fey arrived to drop the cage and let them out. As soon as the door opened, they practically ran into the trees, desperate to shed their excess energy. Hermione had every intention of following them until she remembered what Fenrir had said the previous night. The moment he had the chance, he'd order the others to leave and then... well.

Slowing down slightly, she twitched her eyes to the left, looking for a gap between the trees she could fade into. When she noticed Fenrir detaching himself from the others, she knew she had to go. Without giving herself time to think, she swung left, forcing her legs to move as fast as they could. The trees blurred into a brown, green smudge. The only sounds she could hear were her own thudding heart, gasping breaths and thumping footsteps.

Then hers were joined by Fenrir's as he followed closely behind.

It was her dream all over again. And like in her dream, she knew it was only a matter of seconds before he would catch her. She supposed her running was a token gesture at most. But it felt good to stretch her legs and she was in no doubt whatever else they were about to do would feel good too. A trickle of pleasure settled in her abdomen and she found herself slowing down, gradually coming to a halt beneath the sweeping branches of an oak.

She closed her eyes, letting the air fill her lungs in greedy gasps. Behind her, Fenrir came to a stop. He was close. Hermione could feel him standing just behind her. If she were to step back, they would touch. Pulling in one more breath, she slowly twisted around. The moment their eyes met, it was like a fuse had been lit inside her. Everything seemed to melt and rush to the throbbing place between her legs.

Keeping her eyes on his, she moved her hands to the bottom of her jumper and pulled it off in one swift motion. Fenrir's eyes glittered as he traced her exposed flesh. Tension filled the space that separated them. Then suddenly, he was ripping off his own shirt before reaching for his jeans. And just like that it became a race to see who could get naked first.

Fenrir won.

Hermione had never been so turned on in her entire life. His hands were shaking and as she revelled in the knowledge that it was her driving him to the point of such desperation. The cool air felt delicious against her flushed skin. But nowhere near as good as Fenrir felt when she pressed herself against him. His hands immediately settled on the dip of her waist, lifting her easily and urging her to wrap her legs around his hips. The moment she complied, she felt his cock nestle itself between her thighs. Her hands were holding onto the thick slabs of muscles that topped his shoulders. He hadn't once shifted his gaze from hers, his pupils nearly eclipsing the deep brown of his iris.

Hermione shivered when he inched nearer, softly brushing his lips against hers before running his tongue along the seam. She opened her mouth, wincing when a sharp pain flared across the bone of her cheek.

"Can't do that," she muttered, "it hurts too much."

Fenrir hummed, laying a gentle kiss to the skin on the side of her mouth. The hands at her waist shifted. One smoothed up her spine to rest at the base of her neck and the other dropped down to push aside his cock so he could probe at her slick folds. The rough pad of his finger caught on the protruding nub of her clit in the most frustrating way, before moving away to trace the weeping entrance of her cunt. She wriggled, trying to rub herself against him. But he moved his fingers at the last moment, each time evading the place she needed his touch the most. His cock was like a rod of burning steel, searing the skin on the inside of her thigh.

"Fenrir," Hermione gasped when he brushed roughly over her clit, before once again retreating to swirl patterns around her clenching entrance.

"Don't make me wait."

His reply was to press the tip of one thick finger into her. She clenched around him, twitching and shuddering, desperately trying to force him deeper. The barely there touch wasn't nearly enough to satisfy the prickly ache that grew with every passing second. Her head thumped onto his shoulder in frustration. A chuckle that she instantly wanted to shove back down his throat brushed her neck. Her nails bit into his skin, threatening to draw blood.

Sensing her changing mood, Fenrir carefully lowered them to the ground, unwinding her legs and sitting so his back was propped against the trunk and Hermione was straddling his lap. He placed his hand between her breasts and pushed, tipping her back so she had to place her hands on the ground to prevent herself from falling. It left her completely exposed to him and she shivered when his eyes fell to her dripping cunt. He reached down to press his hand against her, exploring her sensitive flesh until his fingers were covered in her sticky wetness.

Hermione could barely watch as he slowly lifted it back up, reaching forward to pluck at her nipple. Using her own moisture to rub and twist until her head fell back. The sensation sent a frisson of pleasure straight to her core. Intensified to the point of pain when he used his other hand to pinch her clit between thumb and forefinger. She instantly came, snapping forward to grind herself against him in a jagged rhythm. It was a short, sharp orgasm; over too soon and far too intense.

Gasping, she drew back, blinking when she noticed him stroking his cock with languid grace. He smirked when he saw the direction of her gaze, taking her hand to replace his. For a moment she merely held it, wondering at the damp, hard feel of it against her skin.

"You can move your hand and stare at the same time, you know," he teased.

Hermione flushed and glared when he dared to smirk. Narrowing her eyes, she moved her hand up, momentarily distracted by the feel of his skin sliding over the hardness beneath. Then she pushed back down, flicking her eyes up to watch his savage expression. His gaze was half shuttered. The sharp edges of his teeth ground together. On the next upstroke she let her thumb brush up and over the engorged crest, smearing the beads of pre-come into his satiny flesh. The muscles in his stomach tensed, each ridge standing out in sharp relief. Gaining more confidence Hermione moved her hand faster, squeezing her fingers when he began to thrust his hips upwards.

It was dizzying to watch him literally fall apart in her hands. To know she had that much power over him. To feel in control for the first time in weeks. His breath was sawing in and out of his sweat-drenched chest and the sight of him so undone made her flutter with need. She was overcome with pleasure, wriggling on his legs, trying to rub herself against the bulging muscle of his thigh.

"Enough," he grunted, knocking her hand aside and digging his fingers into her waist.

She gasped when he effortlessly lifted her up, pulled her forward and positioned his solid length at her dripping entrance. He held her there, hovering above him, her clenching cunt kissing his cock. Hermione whimpered, the need for him to fill her so strong that she could barely stay still.

"Now!" she gasped, leaning forward to pant into the curve of his neck.

Fenrir slowly began to lower her down, stretching her quivering flesh with his thick member. She felt every ridge and vein as he eased her onto him. The sensation was so overwhelming, she actually saw stars. Tipping her head back, she arched her back, taking more of his length. He grunted, finally losing control and slamming her down until she was stuffed full.

He held her there for a brief, yet somehow endless second, torturing them both, before lifting her back up. The rhythm he set was relentless. Hermione helped as best as she could but, in the end, she gave up and let him set the pace. The only noise was the slapping sounds of skin meeting skin. Every breath she took filled her lungs with their combined scent; sweat, musk and arousal.

She gasped and pressed her forehead to his cheek, squeezing herself around him and making them both moan. He increased the pace, sliding into her so fast it felt like he never left. The orgasm started slowly. A prickling heat suffused her body that built and built, hovering just out of reach. She tried canting her hips and squealed at the result. He was rubbing against that hidden bundle of nerves, stroking it again and again with relentless force.

Her muscles tensed as her climax blasted through her. Fenrir carried on moving, pumping and thrusting into her rippling channel until he came minutes after she'd finished. For a long while they stayed that way. His softening cock still buried within her, their sticky flesh glued together.

"Alright?" he said.

"Mmm" was Hermione's lazy reply.

He chuckled, stroking his hand down her spine in a soothing rhythm. Her inner wolf practically purred at the sensation of his hand brushing her skin. Altogether, it wasn't a bad way to spend a morning.


Don't forget to review!