AN: Trigger Warnings are there for a reason. If you do not like dark fics this would be a good place to stop reading (this way you can leave on a high note). If you do choose to continue reading, I can offer you the following (spoiler) as consolation- this fic will have a Dramione HEA.

Chapter 19

Draco quickly checked the roster to see who were assigned duties near the stable and portkey point. Rather than arousing suspicion by clearing all the weres in the area, he planned to keep anyone capable of posing a risk to Hermione out of her path and under his watchful eye within the main castle. The potential threats once identified, were recalled on the pretext of an impromptu training session in the main castle building; with the amount of pent up energy weres carried around, it wasn't unusual for more senior betas to call for a training or sparring session when the mood so struck them. As replacements in their respective duties, Draco sent the pack's weakest omegas. He was quite likely endangering their lives by setting them so close to Hermione's escape path but his wolf wasn't particularly bothered by what would be seen as putting his mate before his pack. Beyond defending herself, he was confident his witch would not seek to cause permanent or irreversible damage to any pack member, yet the same could not be said of some of the pack members, should they end up duelling her.

Draco stood in the front hall of the main castle; one of the doors opened into a small yard that served as an indoor training ground. Slowly, the pack members handpicked for today's training session began to filter in, cheering and gesturing in a manner that showed their excitement at the prospect of sparring with him. With the full moon only a few days away, they were all a little on edge.

Warm-up drills completed, they were starting to pair up for the fights when they were interrupted.

"So the rumours are true I see."

Draco turned to look in the direction of the voice. To his surprise, standing there was his old friend Theodore Nott. No, not friend exactly, he corrected. As a wealthy Pureblood elite of the same age and of an equal status as himself, Theo had been a suitable companion. Still, there were times he had thought of Theo as a friend.

Theo used to be a carefree and chatty kid, back before his mother had mysteriously ended up dead. He changed dramatically afterwards, becoming more reserved in his speech and more observant of his surroundings. It made him an excellent judge of character, and because he possessed such an even temperament, Theo's was often the only voice of reason in Draco's life during their years at Hogwarts. Then Draco took the Dark Mark and their relationship was forever altered. For a long time Draco believed jealousy to be the source of their fallout—that Theo had desired the enviable distinction of being the youngest Death Eater. However, seeing him now—the first time in all the years since he was turned—made him wonder if perhaps he had been wrong about Theo too.

"Theo," Draco acknowledged with a nod, "it's been a while."

"Yes, it has, hasn't it?" asked Theo, studying Draco. "I heard you were at Wolf Castle and that you'd taken quite well to your new status"—his tone suggested he was trying not to cause offence—"but I didn't believe it ... You've changed," he said upon concluding his scrutiny of Draco.

Having grown up together, Draco thought he could read Theo better than anyone else could. He could be mistaken, but despite the flat tone of his voice, Theo appeared to look at him with admiration.

Draco dusted himself off and put on his robes before joining Theo outside, in the front hall. "So, what brings you to Wolf Castle, Theo?" Draco feigned ignorance even though he suspected they were here for Hermione.

"Why do any of us come here?" Theo gave a light shrug. It was well known that the Death Eaters did not like interacting with the werewolves and only came to Bleidd when commanded by the Dark Lord. "The Dark Lord probably didn't think that dimwit Greyback could manage a simple game of fetch. I've been tasked with escorting two of the prisoners back to headquarters."

Ironically, the Ministry was what the Death Eaters used as their headquarters these days.

"And which prisoners would that be?" asked Draco nonchalantly.

"Potter's girlfriend and his Mudblood—" Theo paused to stare at him. "Oh, but now they both mean something to you too," he said, as if he only just realised it, "one of them is carrying the Malfoy heir while the other is carrying your spawn."

Theo was deliberately goading him, to gain some insight into his feelings most likely. Draco did not care for these types of games anymore.

He motioned for Theo to follow and began to walk away, towards Ginny's room. Hermione would be long gone by now, but he wanted to delay the discovery for as long as possible. On his way, Draco wondered about the whereabouts of Fenrir, who must have arrived with Theo's party and then abandoned them at some point. The alpha did not usually show deference to the Death Eaters but since Theo was there on orders from the Dark Lord himself, it was strange Fenrir had not even bothered to assign a beta to guide them around Bleidd.

"How did you enjoy your roll in the mud, Draco? Can't imagine it was any good. Granger was always such a frail little thing—far too much brains, not enough tits."

Theo wasn't even being subtle now. His wolf bristled at the comments about his mate, but Draco still refused to react. He knew how to deal with Theo.

"You've changed," he said, echoing Theo's line from earlier, "You were never the type to notice tits before."

"I don't like tits, doesn't mean I don't notice them. And as I recall you used to be rather fond of Pansy for the sake of her tits alone."

He could expect this kind of talk from Blaise but it was strange coming from Theo. What did Theo hope to gain from provoking a reaction out of him?

"Does all this talk of tits mean you've taken a wife now?" he shifted the focus to Theo while he tried to figure out Theo's endgame. "I heard the Dark Lord passed some kind of decree requiring all Purebloods of fertile years to marry and breed."

Theo let out a chortle. "One of the benefits of my station is that some amount of consideration was offered for my proclivities, giving me a reprieve from that law—not like there are enough Pureblood women to go around anyway. Naturally, since I'm unable to provide an heir, the duty has fallen to father's broad and far more capable shoulders." There was that familiar old bitterness that always crept into Theo's voice anytime he spoke about his father. "Hmm, even in your state of disgrace we have something in common. A disappointment to our respective families, it has fallen to our fathers to produce the requisite heirs."

Theosophus Nott was a cold and hard man in a way that made Lucius Malfoy look like a Hufflepuff in contrast. While never confirmed, they suspected he was responsible for the death of his wife, who he most likely killed before Theo's eyes. Draco could not imagine any Pureblood woman, familiar with the Nott family history, willing to marry the old Death Eater despite his wealth and power.

"Lord Nott has been given a slave as well?"

Theo chuckled, though Draco failed to see the source of his amusement.

"No. He's been given a proper wife. Unlike Lucius, my father is, well was single."

Nott Senior did not strike him as a man willing to ever take on the hassle of a wife again. Draco always assumed that one day he would force Theo to bed a woman to ensure the continuation of the Nott family line.

"Who's the lucky woman?"

"This is the part which is so amusing. Not amusing because she's married to father, but amusing because it makes her my step-mother."

Draco kept walking, tilting his head to raise a questioning eyebrow at Theo.

"Pansy," replied Theo.

"Pansy?"

"Yes. With you out of the picture, the only wizard Lord Parkinson could deem suitable enough for his little princess was my father."

"Fuck!" Draco exclaimed loudly. He may not have shared Pansy's feelings—in fact he had acted like a proper heel when he took advantage of her feelings to engage in some snogging and lusty groping while they were at school—and even though he was still angry with her for raising her hand on Hermione, as one of his oldest friends, he still cared for Pansy. He could not imagine how creepy it must be for her to be married to Theo's father knowing what they knew about the man.

"Why did she agree? I mean, how did Lord Parkinson even convince her to agree?" While Pansy could be a little vacuous, she was also incredibly stubborn and well versed in manipulating her father into doing her bidding.

"It's not like she was given a choice in the matter, Draco. One thing that is pretty consistent in this brave new world is that none of us really have a choice in what we do anymore."

Theo's voice had taken on that quiet reflective tone of the boy he remembered from his Hogwarts days. Here was a man speaking the plain and unvarnished truth. Coming from anyone else, Draco would call this a slip-up, but from someone as intelligent and guarded as Theo, it had to mean something. There was a weariness in his old friend's eyes he had missed earlier. Was Theo also feeling overwhelmed by the reality of the world they had helped create?

More than halfway to Ginny Weasley's quarters, Draco stopped two pack members rushing past him.

"Selene, Adrian, slow down," he ordered. "What's happened?"

"Message for the Beta, sir. We have one prisoner missing and the other's been severely injured, sir."

Draco tried to appear calm while struggling to breathe at the news that his mate could be hurt.

"Has Cora been informed?"

"Yes, sir. She's tending to the prisoner. We were told to inform the Beta the prisoner's lost a lot of blood and looks like she'll die if—"

At this point Draco gave up all pretence and cut off the omega.

"Where, where is she?" he demanded and took off in the direction they pointed, without offering any explanation to a baffled-looking Theo.

He was running so fast his heart was going to burst out of his chest at any moment now. Gods damn it! She wasn't supposed to get hurt. He asked her to go without Ginny Weasley, but she did not listen and now it looked like the witch had hurt Hermione and left her behind.

When he arrived at the scene, he was shocked to see a pool of, what he thought was, his mate's blood and Cora bent over a small female form. His vision grew blurry from the tears flowing down his cheeks, his grief so great he failed to notice the absence of his mate's scent.

Completely focused on her task, Cora worked frantically, waving her wand, muttering one incantation after another while she clumsily grabbed at the different potion bottles, struggling to uncork them efficiently and pour them in the correct order down the witch's throat. A trained healer, Cora had been out of practice for so long she was no better than a mediwitch in this situation.

It took Draco several moments to gather the courage to approach them. He fell to his knees in sheer relief upon seeing it was not his mate lying half-dead on the ground.

"Merlin!" he moaned aloud. She escaped. If Ginny was here, it meant Hermione was the one to escape. It was the only thing that mattered, as far as he was concerned.

"Get off your arse and lend me a hand here," Cora barked when he continued to stay on his knees and uselessly stare at them.

Draco moved quickly, following directions and assisting Cora as needed. At times, he joined her in casting spells; at others, he prepared the necessary potions. Even though he was doing little more than measuring and mixing different items in the combinations Cora demanded, working with potions after so many years managed to calm him despite the grisly scene around them.

Theo and a few of the Death Eaters had gathered outside the room. They were shortly joined by some members of the pack. No one entered the room or disturbed them in any way, apart from handing Draco the additional items requested by Cora.

Bits and pieces of the conversation, taking place in the corridor outside, drifted into the room. Muffled by the walls, it was hard to identify the voices with certainty.

"We saw a patronus floating past us," said one of the voices.

"Scared the living daylight out of me, some weird-looking animal," said another voice.

"We figured it was one of the two Order members. Not like there's anyone else here who can do that kind of magic."

"Serafina thought to check on Hermione first because..." the voice trailed off.

A bolder sounding voice said, "Well, the other witch's really of no concern to us is she?"

"What did you find?" There was no mistaking the authority in the voice. Gunnolf.

"Hermione wasn't in her chambers, but that's not unusual—"

"She likes to spend time outside with either the pups or Draco."

"—so we decided to check on the redhead—"

"That one's always in her room."

"—and we found her lying there, like that, in the middle of this pool of blood."

"Made me so hungry. I've never been around human blood like that."

"Cora got here almost the same time we did—"

"Not sure who called her."

"—Serafina said we ought to split up—"

"Selene and Adrian went to get you while Serafina and I went to look for Hermione."

"We checked the courtyard—"

"Hermione seems to favour that spot."

"—and the rest of the places she visits. Couldn't find her anywhere. We even went to pack quarters—"

"Though she's never stepped foot in there, far as I know."

"We thought to check on the twins."

"Found them with Oskar."

"...but, no sign of Hermione."

"Any idea on the whereabouts of the alpha?" asked Gunnolf.

"He arrived with the Death Eaters, sir."

The conversation continued in faint whispers before stopping altogether. Minutes later, voices could be heard again, but from the other end of the corridor.

"Greyback? Yes, we arrived together by portkey"—that condescending tone and posh accent could only belong to Theo—"but on our way past the stables he suddenly took off, no explanation given. He hasn't returned so far, Draco's busy patching up one of the prisoners I was meant to collect, and I'm growing tired of waiting for someone to explain what's going on."

"That is exactly what we're trying to figure out. Please wait till the healer is done, we may have some answers then." Gunnolf employed an authoritative tone that brooked no argument.

"...I beg your pardon, sir, but I believe I have something to report," said someone in a small and shaky voice. "I was sent to patrol the barrier near the portkey point this evening, sir ... I saw the alpha arrive with the Death Eaters but he came back a short while later ... alone. He told me to return to the castle. He said—he said to tell you we'd be going Mmmud-blood hunting tonight ... I'm sorry for the delay, sir ... It took me some time to find you."

"Interesting ... Does this mean you're missing a prisoner?" asked Theo.

"Hermione isn't a prisoner!" one of the voices declared, followed by shushing sounds.

"Why don't you wait in my office? Enjoy what little hospitality we have to offer, till we have some definite answers for you. Hermione's most likely spending time in pack quarters with her sons. If she is one of the prisoners you seek, I will have my men go and collect her for you."

Draco was surprised Gunnolf had managed to lie so easily and from the sound of footsteps moving away, he may have fooled Theo.

Ginny's condition appeared more stable now, the bleeding had finally stopped and her heart was beating normally. Cora could finally catch a breath so Draco used the opportunity to ask her what happened.

"Hermione, she did this," Cora hissed. "She sent me a patronus saying there was an accident while they were duelling. Hermione was crying, she said she didn't mean to do it, but Ginny was bleeding to death in her room. She begged me to come and save Ginny."

Cora continued to speak in a voice too low to be heard by those outside, but she was seething in a way he had never seen before.

"Does this look like something caused by an accident?" she asked through clenched teeth. "I didn't think she could go to such lengths to escape. To do something like this to her own friend—"

Draco remained quiet. It was hard to believe Hermione could be capable of such violence, yet evidence to the contrary lay before him. Once his initial shock wore off and he realised that the injured woman was not his mate, he noticed that the only blood he could smell in the room belonged to Ginny Weasley. He tried to imagine various scenarios, which would lead to Hermione responding with such uncharacteristic violence.

Draco knew she planned to obliviate Ginny, but could not think of a single instance where a poorly executed memory charm left the kind of physical damage seen here. From the marks on the floor and the wall, Ginny appeared to have been blasted off her feet and slammed against the wall with tremendous force. It could have been caused by a burst of accidental magic, except it looked far too powerful and directed at a specific target to qualify as an accident.

It was a mystery they were unlikely to solve until Ginny woke up or was sufficiently recovered to have legilimency performed on her.

"—as if this poor woman hasn't suffered enough... And she lost her baby! You understand what this means, right?" Cora asked him. "They're going to want her back and they'll put her through hell once more to get her pregnant again."

Several thoughts rushed through his head all at once. First was concern for his mate. He hoped Hermione had made it safely out because he shuddered to imagine what they would do to her once Lucius discovered she was responsible for the death of his heir. He stared at Ginny's belly—how was he supposed to feel about the premature death of his half-sibling? He shared Cora's concern for Ginny; because of the Dark Lord's orders, Lucius would want her pregnant with his heir. How, under these circumstances, was he to keep his promise to keep Ginny safe? And if Hermione were responsible for doing this to Ginny would she even expect him to still keep his promise?

"You're culpable too," Cora pointed a finger and squinted at Draco. "There's no way she suddenly mastered wandless spell casting. Someone gave her a wand, and the only person here foolish enough to think helping her escape would be a good idea, is you! You know what the world has become out there, but instead of bonding with her and keeping her safe, you let her loose without any thought to the consequences. You've not only put her life at risk, you've left all of us vulnerable. What do you think they'll do to us when they realise someone in the pack armed one of the prisoners with a wand?"

Draco remained quiet. He tried to think of how he could clean up this unexpected mess. He had planned Hermione's escape in a way that left no clues on how she could have managed it. Now, thanks to this incident with Ginny Weasley, there was no hiding his involvement. Cora was right though, this was no longer just about Hermione and him, and unless he could quickly figure something out, the pack would have to pay the price for his and Hermione's actions.

[TRIGGER WARNING]

Exhausted from her run and nauseated by portkey travel, when they arrived at their destination, Hermione would have fallen to the ground if not for Fenrir's constricting hold on her body. She took a moment to catch her breath and tried to calm herself by focusing on anything other than Fenrir. The landscape surrounding her looked foreign in comparison to anything she had seen before was the predominant thought in her head as her gaze settled upon the sprawling mountains in the distance, the tops of which disappeared into the clouds leaving them partially hidden. When they left Bleidd it was late evening, yet here the dark sky and twinkling stars hinted at a time of night later than anywhere in Great Britain.

Fenrir stood nearly motionless beside her, only his head moved from side to side as if trying to find his bearings in an unfamiliar place. He held both her wrists trapped in one hand, her satchel and wand in the other. For whatever reason, this wand had chosen her as its master. It was the only explanation her brain could conjure for the way the wand had responded to Ginny before leaping into her hand. Despite Oskar's theory about her being the alpha of alphas, Fenrir was undeniably stronger than her physically, something hard to ignore when the bones in her wrists felt like they were being ground to dust from the force he was exerting on them. And unlike her, Fenrir did not need a conduit to cast his spells. That limited her options for an escape to either, get the wand back or get Fenrir to use it on her.

With precious seconds to act, she remembered something Draco often shouted at her during their training sessions:

Don't be afraid to fight dirty, there's no unfair fight except one you lose. Do whatever it takes to win.

Fenrir's hold on her wrists was too tight and the difference in their heights made it impossible for her to do any damage with her head, which only left her legs available. If she could get a little closer to him and angle her body just so, she could knee him in the crotch hard enough to distract him and grab the wand out of his hands.

Just as Hermione moved to distract Fenrir by sidling against him seductively, Fenrir pinched her nose shut with one hand. She instinctively knew what was coming next and clamped her mouth shut. He let go of her wrists as he fumbled to reach for something within his clothes. Hermione saw her chance and went for it.

Right hand open, she bent her wrist backwards and used the heel of her palm to smash upwards into Fenrir's nose. The hit lacked the force required to break his nose but caused enough pain that he let go of her nose to hold his own. She pressed her advantage by turning the same palm sideways and delivering a swift strike to his windpipe. Once again, the blow was too weak to crush the organ, but it did force him to stumble backwards a step or two.

Hermione frantically looked around, trying to spot where Fenrir had dropped the wand. Later, she would think of how the soil here was reddish in colour, unlike anything she had seen in England. The stars shone brightly in the night sky in a way that is only possible in the absence of light pollution, which meant they were far away from any kind of civilization, at least of the Muggle variety. It is only later that Hermione would think of these things, which proved she was far from home. Right now, her focus was on locating the wand.

By the time she remembered that the wand had accepted her and would likely respond if she summoned it, Fenrir had recovered. He launched himself at her, and distracted as she was, he easily tackled her to the ground. Settling himself on her chest, he used his entire weight to bear down on her and planted his feet on her arms to pin her hands to the ground. She watched in helpless horror as he once more used one hand to pinch her nose shut while the other successfully retrieved a vial of the fertility potion from his pocket and used his teeth to uncork it. She tilted her head sideways as much as his hold would allow and kept her jaw tightly shut, but instead of forcing her to drink the potion, like she expected, he emptied the contents into his own mouth—though he did not appear to swallow.

Fenrir tossed the now empty vial aside and used both hands to seize at Hermione's jaws and pry them open. Unable to breath and hurting from the crushing force on her jawbone, her lips parted. Fenrir, who was waiting for just this moment, lowered his mouth and forced the potion from his mouth into hers. Her attempts to spit it out proved in vain as Fenrir's lips had formed a seal around her mouth, his tongue forcing the liquid back in while his hand massaged her throat in a way that made her involuntarily swallow.

Her heart sank because she knew what this meant. She did not know how much time she had before she would feel the effects of this mysterious fertility potion, she just knew she had to act quickly, while her head was still clear and she was still in control of her body.

Fenrir had done a good job pinning her upper body to the ground and rendering it useless. Plus with him seated as far up her chest as he was she would need to be an acrobat to swing her legs far enough forward to lock her legs around his neck like she wanted to. His mouth continued to remain over hers in a cruel mimicry of a kiss, his hand squeezing her jaw—hard enough she knew it would hurt as hell later—meant she could not even bite him.

He did eventually let go of, both, her mouth and jaw at once. Shifting his weight to the left, he swung his right leg off her arm and brought it around so he was kneeling at her side instead of sitting on her chest. For a brief moment, she was no longer pinned under his weight, but she had no time to act. He roughly grabbed her shoulder to flip her over, and then weighing down on her by pressing his forearm to the back of her head, he forced her face into the ground. Their movements stirred the mud around her face, bringing on a coughing fit as Hermione struggled to breathe through the dust she was inhaling.

Fenrir sat on her back and drew Hermione's arms behind her. He softly muttered incancerous and bound her arms with her palms curled into fists, ensuring she would remain incapable of summoning the wand. Another muttered incantation and her ankles were bound together such that she could move them no more than a foot apart. Her struggles and attempts to wriggle out of the binding only resulted in them tightening further. Finally satisfied that she was sufficiently incapacitated Fenrir got up off her and forcefully pulled her into a standing position. He collected her satchel and wand and held it in one hand while the other he used to clutch a fistful of her hair, which he tugged to keep her moving in the direction he wanted. Ankles bound, her short steps failed to match his long strides so by the time they reached their destination, her scalp was bleeding from all the times he had ripped out her hair.

Apart from the mountains in the distant background, for miles the scenery around them appeared to be nothing but the reddish soil with the exception of a few shrubs and fewer trees dotting the landscape. Then barely fifty paces into their walk, they had walked through the gates of a primitive version of a fortalice built from reed and mud bricks. The place had been cleverly concealed using spells she doubted Fenrir or any of the other werewolves at Bleidd were capable of casting. That along with the international portkey, which brought them here, made her suspect Voldemort or his Death Eaters were in some way involved.

Hermione tried to draw on her raw magic to direct a blast at Fenrir, but she was more scared than angry now. All this was far too familiar, reminding her of the night the Death Eaters had taken her as a prisoner, fed her the potion and left her to be fucked by some werewolf. She could just as easily have ended up sharing Ginny's fate. It was only her luck—or the act of a moon goddess, if one believed in the were myths—that had delivered her into the hands of a man she was proud to call her mate. Would she continue to be lucky a second time? Not likely.

Despite the crude exterior, the carvings on the walls inside spoke of a level of sophistication one would not expect of such a militaristic-looking building. As Fenrir navigated the narrow passageways deep within the structure, it struck Hermione that the place appeared to be abandoned. Fenrir threw open a large set of doors and dragged her with a force that had her stumbling down the steps of some sort of cellar. Fortunately for her, the floor was made of mud and not stone so it did not hurt as much as it could have.

A single window at a point where the wall joined the ceiling illuminated the small and empty room. If it was a cellar, it wasn't being used to store anything. An earthy scent lingered in the air, which under different circumstances she would have found soothing.

Within the small space, Fenrir's large body easily towered over her prone form. There was no mistaking the menacing tone of his voice when he finally spoke. "Looks like you need to be taught a little lesson, Mud-blood," he said, drawing out the syllables of the ugly word he had refrained from using while he was courting her.

Hermione kept her head lowered to the ground, only her eyes tracking the movement of his boots as he paced around her head.

"The Dark Lord is mad at Potter, but that's nothing new now, is it? Wanted to torture you and the redhead publically as a bit of payback, but I came to your rescue. Risked my own neck to remind our Lord you were gifted to the pack and I had yet to use your womb. He agreed to keep his word, but of course, punished me for speaking up... All those Death Eaters, weak bunch of ponces, thinking they're better'n me just 'cause they have the Mark. They enjoyed watching me get punished, they did. Because of you! 'n how do you repay me?" He stopped his pacing to stand beside her. "Take advantage of my hospitality, spit on my generous offer, and nearly go and make that cunt of yours useless for the rest of us by trying to bond with the Malfoy pup, you ungrateful BITCH!" Drawing his foot back, he delivered a solid kick to her flank.

Hermione grit her teeth in agony as she curled in on herself. From the way her side hurt, he had surely cracked one of her ribs.

"Some of the lads came to see me last night.' said you and Draco had bonded, which I thought was a bunch of bollocks till they said they felt a pack bond with you. Ever since he knocked you up Malfoy's been acting like he's hot stuff, but if that brat thinks he's going to challenge my position in the pack just 'cause he fathered a couple of bastards with you he's not as smart as he thinks. Now, this all must sound like a bunch of nonsense to you," Fenrir dropped into a squat and hunched over her head, "what with it being pack business and all, so I'll put this in terms you can understand." He eliminated the distance between them by abruptly pulling on a fistful of her hair to force her to meet his gaze. "I'm still alpha, and I fully plan to breed you till you die or your womb breaks from all the births."

There was a dark promise in Fenrir's eyes as he delivered the threat, but instead of fear, a thrill went through her. A sure sign the potion had worked its way into her bloodstream.

He let go of her hair so suddenly she could not catch herself. Hermione's head slammed down, her already tender jaw hitting the ground first.

"Was on my way to Bleidd to pick you up and bring you here, imagine my surprise when I catch the scent of Mudblood on the castle grounds and follow it, only to find my prisoner escaping! Almost made it too, didn't you?" he asked with a mocking laugh. "So now here's your punishment. You'll no longer be allowed to stay with the pack at Bleidd, this is your new home—" he held his hands out to gesture around him. "You'll live here and be a good little cunt till your belly's full with my babies. Please me and I'll bond with you during the next full moon. Otherwise, soon as you've whelped a few pups for me I'll make you the pack whore and let each of my men take their turn at breeding you."

Hermione remained silent. There was nothing for her to say. Did Draco have any inkling of what was happening to her? Obviously not, or she would not be here.

"If you behave, you'll get to see your twins again—" these words made Hermione's head snap up. Did it mean Fenrir had brought her sons here as well? ...when would he have done so? "—Funny bit of business this, and a good bit of luck for me I suppose, that I found you when I did. See, no one in the pack knows I found you, they'll just think you ran away!" he said gleefully.

"Now, you be a good little bitch who listens to her alpha and doesn't try to escape, and I'll bring you your sons so you can do some mothering every now and then. But try to defy me in any way or fight me, and I'll bring your sons back here just to fuck their toothless mouths and tear off their limbs right before your eyes. Been years since I ate any babies, you can bet I'll go slow to really relish it."

Hermione shuddered in revulsion at the scene described.

"You're not a werewolf yourself so your mate bond will be weak. A bit of separation from Draco and alotta my cum should do the trick, break whatever half-arsed bond you've got with him. Should be easy enough to knock you up after that," he declared with confidence.

Hermione looked at him in shock and disgust. With everything she had come to learn about werewolves and the pack during her stay at Bleidd, it was hard to believe that the pack's alpha would stoop to such shameful levels. Instead of fighting Draco or any of the other wolves for the right to mate with her, he was essentially stealing her by attempting to destroy the mate bond. While the rest of the pack treated children as a sacred gift and cared for Wilbur and Martin as if they were the most precious thing in their lives, Fenrir found it acceptable to use them as leverage over her. She tried not to focus on her imminent defilement. She needed her anger in this moment, not her fear.

Fenrir watched Hermione seethe in righteous anger, then suddenly his mouth twisted into an ugly smile. As much as she was trying to be discreet in her attempt at rubbing her thighs together she recognised the futility of it, he had quite likely smelled the juices oozing out of her as her passage prepared itself for penetration. She turned her head away from him so he could not see the shame in her eyes as she teased her nipples by rubbing her chest against the ground.

Fenrir stood up, once more looming over her. His hand placed over his crotch, he began to rub his shaft over his clothes. While he had forced her to swallow the bulk of the potion, perhaps he had inadvertently ingested enough to be affected to some extent himself.

"Can't have the pack wondering 'bout my whereabouts or getting ideas. I'm going to have to head back and organise a search for our favourite Mudblood. Your greedy cunt will just have to wait till next time," he said, but proceeded to free his member from the confines of his trousers. He dragged the toe of his boot up and down the crack of her arse teasing her flesh while he stroked his cock.

Despite the bindings on her ankle and the pain in her rib Hermione spread her knees and arched her back as much as she could trying to get his boot to graze against her clitoris. Even with her clothes on, there was a spark of pleasure as his boot slid along the outer lips of her labia. Simultaneously she felt disgust over the intimate touch coming from someone other than her mate.

Fenrir was stroking his cock faster now, and Hermione had to bite her tongue to keep herself from begging him to stick it inside her and fuck her for all he was worth. He continued to tease her flesh, pushing her towards her own release until soon she was crying out in relief as well as grief over what was happening to her. He climaxed shortly after, aiming his rod at her so she was left covered in streaks of his seed to serve as a disgusting reminder of what he had done to her long after he left and the potion wore off.

When he was done he did not bother to untie her or even say a word before he walked away, leaving her alone in the dark. She heard him snap his fingers when he reached the top of the stairs and an elf appeared just before the door was sealed shut. Her brain, clouded with the fog of lust as she bore the full brunt of the potion hitting her system, struggled to follow their exchange as they walked away.

If Draco and the pack were truly unaware of her capture, Fenrir was quite likely on his way to carry out his threat and bring the twins here. She did not need to escape; she just needed to conjure a wandless patronus to alert Draco of Fenrir's intentions. Hermione took a deep breath and concentrated on the magic flowing in her veins. She opened her mouth to chant the spell, but all that left her lips was a helpless whimper begging for someone, anyone to fuck her.