Draco's eyes glazed over in pleasure, oblivious to who his partner was. Lost as he was in the moment, all he knew was how fantastic her cunt felt squeezing his wolf cock. She was so wet, so eager for him. Truthfully, though, he didn't really want her. He had hoped to be with someone else, he was even willing to fight the rest of the wolves for it, like he had last time, but Fenrir gave him no choice in the matter.
"I got a treat for you, lad," Fenrir had said to Draco, referring to the whimpering female shackled to the wall by a chain. "Bit this one just for you. Thought you deserved something special this time since you did so well last month. You'll be her first in this form," he told Draco excitedly.
The scent of the blood starting to dry around the fresh bite wound, Fenrir had not even bothered to try healing, excited Draco more than the female itself. Yet, thanks to the potion he was given earlier, the tapered tip of his wolf cock was already peeking out when the female finished her extremely painful-looking transformation under the light of the full moon.
"Gave her a spot of the Fero potion before, I did. She'll be nice and moist for you, don't you worry about that."
Almost on cue, the scent of her arousal permeated the air making Draco's cock slide further out with every breath he took. The wolf howled at the sight of the female voluntarily rising on her haunches and presenting her glistening cunt to him. Even if she may later hate him for whatever she would feel driven to do now, it was a small mercy Fenrir had fed her the fertility potion at all. Her lust was probably the only thing helping her withstand the excruciating pain of the bite as well as her first transformation.
"Go on, fuck this bitch, put your pups in her," Fenrir had ordered. Resisting the alpha's order was hard during the best of times and the potion took away any impulse control, reducing him to an animal acting on instinct alone—one of which was following the alpha's command.
Just like every other bitch Fenrir made him fuck during the full moon, this one also didn't smell right; not like her. Acting on the potion-induced instinct to fuck, both, wolf and man, whined with frustration when he knotted with the female under him; his seed wouldn't take with this one either, same as all the other bitches he was made to fuck. Quite different from the way it was with her.
News of the capture of Potter's Mudblood and her imminent arrival at Bleidd Castle had meant nothing to Draco. Having suffered the ignominy of being turned into a werewolf and cast out of his family, he was no longer considered one of the Purebloods, so why would he care for their cause one way or another? No, he was a werewolf now, free from the crushing expectations that came with being the heir of the illustrious Malfoy family.
Consigned to oblivion, as a wolf he found true acceptance and a sense of community within his pack—people he would have previously considered unsuitable company—than he had ever found in wizarding society and Draco found he liked life outside the spotlight. The night Hermione Granger was brought to Bleidd, Draco had no intention of going anywhere near her, let alone knot with her. However, after overhearing talk of how she was to be used in the latest of the Dark Lord's perverted experiments, Draco believed he had to help her.
Despite the assurances offered to the pack, humans and wolves could not mate and produce offspring. A human would not even survive sex with a were in wolf form as the wolf would see the human as food, not someone to fuck. It would be impossible for a wandless witch to fend off a whole pack of wolves, made extra randy by the new fertility potion Fenrir insisted they use during the full moons so they were lustful enough to breed with any creature put before them. Essentially, Granger was being set up to be savagely raped and eaten by the pack.
Even if they had been on opposing sides, he'd gone to school with Hermione Granger. She wasn't just some faceless stranger, he knew her! He could not sit by and do nothing; far too many people had suffered in the past due to his cowardly actions. Behaviour deemed respectable by the snake he used to be, someone who prioritised self-preservation, was unacceptable to his wolf, who could not abide any display of weakness. Perhaps in giving Granger a fighting chance at survival, he could hope to taste a crumb of redemption.
It was not just concern for Granger's welfare that forced him to act that night. With the rise of the Dark Lord, wizarding society in England instead of improving, the way they had believed it would, had turned into some sort of dystopian shithole Draco was thankful to no longer be a part of. Ever since he was turned into a werewolf and cast out nearly two years ago now, Draco had taken up residence in Bleidd Castle. He liked how life here remained largely untainted by the Dark Lord's rule. Located in the northern countryside of England, Bleidd Castle and the surrounding lands was a kingdom unto themselves where the werewolves lived by their own code of conduct. Then, out of the blue, things began to change.
Roughly five months ago, small groups of Death Eaters began to frequent the castle, with even an occasional visit from the Dark Lord himself. No longer a part of Voldemort's inner circle, it took Draco some time to discover they were running potion trials on werewolves in the dungeons of Bleidd Castle. There was the odd attempt to induce transformations outside of lunar influence, but most of the testing revolved around fertility. It was well known werewolves did not reproduce the way every other creature did. Lycanthropy could only be passed on through the bite of a werewolf. Any children they conceived were either entirely human or pure wolves, with only a fraction of the conceptions ending up in births since female weres almost always miscarried when their bodies changed form during the full moon. Although the pack was unhappy with the goings-on at the castle, the promise of progeny—more than any fear of the Dark Lord—purchased their compliance.
Due to Fenrir's ties to the Dark Lord, pack members were already serving as soldiers in the Nose-less One's army, but despite their association, the pack had never been included in the Death Eater revels or invited to join the Death Eaters in their displays of sadism. In his time as a Death Eater, Draco had seen enough to know that indulging one's worst impulses was a slippery slope that led to the destruction of one's soul. He wished to ensure the pack never crossed that line.
Brawling, especially during the full moon when werewolves were particularly violent, was routine to their kind. Even though its primary purpose was to test their strength against each other to determine their ranking within the hierarchy of the pack, it served other purposes too. It helped them stay fit, expend excessive aggression, settle disagreements and decide winners when competing for the same thing.
When Draco first started trading blows with his wolf brothers that night, he wasn't competing to be the one who got to mate with Granger. No, his plan was to fight off the larger, far stronger wolves capable of easily overpowering her. It was unfair to take advantage of a wandless witch and whatever fault he may have found with Granger, he respected her abilities enough to think she deserved to be bested in a fair duel. Werewolves ultimately respected strength, they weren't petty like humans when defeated, and the Hermione Granger he remembered could pack a mean punch; she could hold her own against one of the smaller wolves. For his plan to work all he needed to do was concede to the weakest wolf, after he was done beating the rest of the competition.
Unfortunately, as Draco discovered, the road to Hades is paved with good intentions. Sometime during the fighting—which he was winning, having successfully forced most of the interested wolves into submission—the direction of the wind changed, bringing with it the most tantalising scent he had ever sniffed, as wolf or man. The scent teased his senses, calling him, demanding he claim what was rightfully his, just waiting to be taken. Taken over by his lupine instinct to breed, he ripped up the rest of the wolves still standing in his way in his eagerness to reach the owner of that scent. The closer he got to her the more eager he grew, her sweet scent, both, exciting and soothing him with promise of the children she would bear him. The wolf howled a warning, heard by all, inside the castle and out. No one was to dare interrupt him once he got started.
He thought about the way he had fucked her, as he had taken to referring to Hermione in his head. It was a testament to the efficacy of the Fero potion that not only had she survived the intense mating, more extraordinarily she was pregnant. As much as Draco was disgusted with himself for what he had done, it didn't in any way dampen his desire for her any time he recalled their coupling. Merlin, she had submitted to him so beautifully each time, he was desperate to find out what it would feel like to have it for real without any potions compromising their will.
He wistfully stared out the large windows towards the part of the castle she lay soundly asleep in, wishing once again he were with her instead. The longer he stared, the more he thought he could almost taste the alluring aroma that hung heavy in the air surrounding her. His only consolation for leaving her alone was that no other wolf would dare approach her while she carried his seed.
Unbeknownst to her, he watched over her every day. While her pregnancy made her precious to the pack, she was still an outsider and their prisoner to boot. It was Draco, whose offspring she carried, who used whatever influence he had within the pack to ensure she had sanitary living conditions and warm meals. He saw to it that her interactions were limited to the more docile female omegas so she would feel less threatened and more at ease with her captivity.
Yet for all he did for her, Draco did not dare to talk to her. His wolf whined, protesting the self-enforced distance, unable to comprehend that she needed time to accept what had happened to her and would need even more time to accept him in any way. They didn't have the best history to start with, and with Draco forcing his child on her, he expected her to at least want to keep her distance if not outright kill him.
Of course, thinking of her made his cock grow hard once more. Draco imagined he was thrusting into the dripping channel of the witch whose belly was already heavy with his child, not the newly turned were Fenrir had ordered him to fuck. He closed his eyes, trying to immerse himself further into his fantasy, but the smell was completely wrong, making it hard for him to enjoy her tight wet pussy. Prior to becoming a werewolf, Draco would have had no complaints about the female he was fucking. She was a fit blonde, with round tits and arse, any warm blooded wizard would have been happy to bed. As a wolf, his priorities were different. Sex was part of the drive to procreate and his seed was not meant to be wasted, but he knew from her smell, this female could not give him children.
For hours after moonrise, fuelled by the lust potion, Draco continued to enthusiastically fuck the female, who was part of his pack now—he could already sense the pack-bond forming—until he had satisfied the alpha's command. He pitied the new were; once the potion wore out she would not only have to cope with the fact that her previous life and relations were lost to her when Fenrir bit her, but also come to terms with what Draco had done to her. He knew from personal experience how unsettling it was to be free of the effects of the potion and realise one had engaged in non-consensual sex. He also knew from experience that even if Fenrir neglected his duties as her sire and the pack's alpha, the pack itself would take care of her and help her adjust to life as a were.
Having executed the alpha's order to a satisfactory degree, Draco was finally able to uncouple himself from the female and go seek help. He left the latest addition to their pack in the care of their mediwitch, Cora, and some of the older females, so they could tend to her injuries after they shifted at dawn. Eventually the pack would huddle around their newest member and welcome her to the fold, for now, they would give her the time and space she needed to come to terms with all that had transpired.
It was close to sunrise when Draco joined other members of the pack for one last run in the woods surrounding Bleidd Castle; they playfully chased each other around and engaged in a friendly brawl before changing back into their human selves. The transformations themselves were a test of power, higher-ranking pack members needing lesser time than the weaker ones. Among them, only the alpha possessed the ability to transform at will, full moon or not. It was an ability, like every other bestowed by nature, to equip the alpha for his role as guardian of the pack.
Fenrir was missing again, which was no surprise. Greyback was absolutely pants when it came to his duties as alpha. It fell to Gunnolf, one of the betas and second in command, to watch over the pack's transformations, guiding the pups and assisting their weaker members.
Transformations completed, while everyone else staggered to the nearby communal area, where they usually slept crowded together after the full moon, Draco excused himself and with great effort dragged his exhausted body to the section of the castle housing her. It was only after he reached his usual post outside Hermione's quarters that he slumped against the wall and slid down to the floor where he eventually fell asleep listening through the wall to the faint sound of her soothing heartbeat.