It was incredible the difference three years could make, thought Draco as he walked the halls of the reformed Ministry.

"You probably haven't been here in a while," stated Theo, correctly guessing Draco's thoughts, "Things have changed a bit."

Draco nodded. At first glance it looked the same as always, a bunch of bureaucrats going about their business, but scratch the surface and—

"Foxes guarding the henhouse," muttered Theo voicing Draco's thoughts.

It was just the two of them when they entered one of the Ministry elevators. Within the confined space, Theo stood facing the doors and with his back to Draco. If not for his lupine sense of smell, Draco would not have noticed the subtle movement made by Theo as he took a quick sip from a vial. But Draco had caught a whiff of the potion the instant the vial was uncorked and having excelled in potions at school recognised what it was.

The elevator dinged when it reached their floor and Theo turned towards Draco with a bright smile, gesturing for him to exit first.

"Where are we headed to?" Draco asked, studying Theo more closely while walking past him.

Until now, Draco had been too preoccupied with Hermione and pack affairs to spot the evidence in plain sight. Theo wore expertly applied glamour charms under his eyes, the caps of his teeth and on the bed of his nails, most likely to hide the telltale signs of long-term addiction to the Elixir of Euphoria. Suddenly Theo's unnaturally cheery disposition made sense.

What had his old friend done, just how dirty did he get his hands before his conscience began to gnaw away at him?

In the shadow of the rising Death Eater Empire, Draco had discovered his conscience despite being relatively bloodthirsty compared to the pacifist Theo. Though both wizards had believed in the superiority of Purebloods, Theo did not wish to see others exterminated or even segregated, claiming that even the non-Pures served a purpose within society.

"We're outnumbered, Draco."

"Yes. Their kind breeds in the gutters and spreads through our world like a disease. We need to cut out the sickness."

"No, Draco. We're outnumbered. The ruling class usually is… That's what we need to do, rule over them. We don't need to kill the Halfbloods and Mudbloods. We just need to subjugate them."

To Draco's fifteen-year-old self, Theo's solution had sounded far more complex and far less satisfactory than his own solution of throwing Avadas at whoever they considered unworthy. Neither boy could have imagined that both forms of punishment would become a reality in the future, with the Halfbloods enslaved and the Muggleborns executed.

Thinking back to those old conversations, Draco could now recognise that as Pureblood nobility, they were never given an opportunity to think for themselves. As children, they had only parroted the words they were indoctrinated to believe were true. If the hatred had originated in his heart, his wand would never have failed to cast the killing spell and Theo would have been one of the bureaucrats in the Ministry drafting the laws that legalised slavery, not a low-ranking Death Eater.

Draco observed Theo's smiling face. Things must certainly bleak if a few smiles and some cheeky banter was the extent of the cheering potion's effect on Theo.

Hermione moaned and tossed about. With her hands bound behind her back and her ankles linked, no matter how much she struggled she was unable to stimulate herself to an orgasm. Her breasts were heavy and hurt from all the unexpressed milk, her nipples hardened nubs, painfully sensitive. All she could do was helplessly rub her thighs together and wait for someone to come.

No one comes… especially not me.

Draco's sense of humour has definitely rubbed off on me.

Mmmm…Remember something else of his rubbing against me too.

My mate's so sexy… fucks me so good.

He'd hit the spot if he were here.

Hermione imagined Draco touching her breasts, his large hands kneading and moulding the swollen curves. She imagined his long fingers thumbing her nipples as he teased her. His skilled fingers would slide down to tease her clit, making sure she was good and wet before pushing her head to the ground so her cheek was pressed against the mud floor. Her position would be similar to what it was right now, except her hips would remain invitingly in the air.

His hands would slide along her flanks and stroke her buttocks to ease the aches in her muscles before the head of his cock parted the lips of her labia and pushed inside her. At first, his strokes would be shallow, meant to bring her closer to the edge. Once she was ready, he would grab her waist and pull her hips back against him. With a single thrust forward, he would penetrate her fully in such a deeply satisfying manner it would be enough to make her climax screaming his name.

With a final cry of frustration, Hermione came. Her back arched into a bow, with her head, chest and feet lifting off the ground, as she experienced a mild orgasm from rubbing her mound against the floor. She remained that way until the position became too painful to hold and she flopped once again to the ground.

Hermione breathed in short shallow gasps but the brief climax helped to clear her head somewhat of the overwhelming lust that came with the potion the elf fed her. As a trained member, first of the DA and then the Order of the Phoenix, she was used to making quick assessments of any situation and her current one appeared to be as bad as it could get. She was unarmed, bound, injured, exhausted, famished and drugged in a foreign country, in an unknown location protected by the Fidelius charm. Her warden was a house elf loyal to Fenrir. She had no idea how much time had passed since Fenrir last visited her or how many days before the full moon, she only knew that she could not let Fenrir be the one to turn her.

Determined to attempt an escape while she was still clear headed, Hermione tried to gather what little strength she had by taking several deep breaths. A bad idea. The combined stench of her waste products along with the dried sweat and cum made her stomach lurch and empty its contents, despite there being nothing to throw up.

Hermione rolled on to her side. Using her elbow for leverage, she pushed herself up into a sitting position with her knees bent and feet tucked under her bum. Her fatigued body did not appreciate the added strain on her calves and thighs as she moved into a kneeling position then rocked backwards on the balls of her feet to jump into a squat. She could feel the muscle burn as she stood up, but did not cry. Instead, she tried to tap into the anger and frustration she felt over her incarceration, hoping in that way to draw on her raw magic to cast wandless spells.

The room was small and empty. A small flight of stairs went up to the door and a single window high up illuminated the room. There was nothing she could use as a weapon but she could wear down the bindings on her hands by rubbing them against the end of the handrail. It was a long shot, yet better than simply lying around in her own shit and piss, waiting for Fenrir to return and rape her.

It was only a few minutes of rubbing her bindings before her clitoris began tingling again. Hermione closed her eyes and shook her head, the sweat-soaked ends of her hair whipping against her shoulders.

Her body shuddered. There were trickles of moisture along the inside of her thighs. Had she wet herself again? No, something else had caused it. She was hornier than she had ever been in her life, than she had ever thought possible.

"What..." she croaked as she backed into the wall, unable to get any other words out.

No, no, no… Not again! I've got to keep my head clear.

It was a dirty trick, but an effective one, keeping her feeling far too horny to plot an escape.

"Sweet Morgana," she whispered. There was a wet patch on her chest as her breasts began to leak. It wasn't long before she lost control of her thoughts once more, focusing only on the ache between her thighs.

Draco sat by himself in the anteroom as he waited to be called upon. The Dark Lord liked to hold court like some feudal overlord so Draco was left alone when Theo went ahead to request an audience for them. That was hours ago. They were deliberately making him wait so the anticipation left him a nervous wreck by the time he was finally called in.

The day had not been a complete waste. Familiar with some of the games the Dark Lord liked to play, he had slipped away early on to make his enquiries around the Ministry. Most of the people working there were unaware of his current status as a creature but they were all well aware of his name and family status, which made it a lot easier for him to get the answers he sought. From what he gathered, there were no Order members currently imprisoned within the Ministry and none who had even passed through in a long time.

He was considering people he could question and places he should check, when a flash of heat and arousal washed over him. If not for the fact that he was alone, he would have suspected someone had jinxed him. It took him a few moments to recognise the feeling had come from Hermione. She must have been incredibly aroused for him to pick up on it.

"The Mudblood's probably fucking Potter right now, laughing at how easy it was to fool you."

Draco growled, recalling the Fenrir's words.

No, they're just friends!

Hermione did not want Potter that way. She had to be thinking of her mate for him to have sensed her need.

His mate needed him and he wasn't there to satisfy her. Part of him felt tormented while the part that had worried about her safety relaxed a little. Since she left, nearly twenty-four hours ago, the only thing he had sensed from her was her arousal. He hoped that meant she was safe somewhere.

He had no reason to believe Hermione was in danger, except for Fenrir's suspicious behaviour, which could be explained away by the fact that the alpha was a genuinely creepy man who was always acting shifty.

What had his witch feeling so aroused? It was his birthday in four days and he had planned to celebrate it with his new family. They would start the day off with the four of them picnicking in the woods followed by some alone time with Hermione. He had deliberately failed to mention his birthday to her to put her on the spot. Then when she asked him what he wanted as his gift he would have handed her a skein of red silk ribbon and ask her to get creative when she wrapped herself in it. He could just imagine the blush in her cheeks followed by the twinkle in her eyes when she heard his suggestion.

He hoped Hermione and the Order would work out some way for them to be together. Honestly, after having worried about her being injured by Ginny and then captured by Fenrir, he just wanted to be together with her again, and did not care about being an outcast anymore. Maybe with his mate and his pups, his mind would survive the separation from the pack.

Draco slumped in his seat. Being an outcast wasn't the real issue here. The real danger was to the lives of his sons who, along with Hermione and himself, would be put into the crosshairs of Lucius, Fenrir, the Dark Lord and an army of Death Eaters the second they suspected him of switching sides.

His father had taught him as a child that as close as one kept their friends, one needed to keep their enemies closer. Even if by some miracle the Order accepted Draco and his pups, leaving was not an option for him. Yet at the same time, he did not want her to return and accept Fenrir's alpha bond.

Not for the first time, Draco thought of how much easier it would be if Fenrir were not their alpha. Hermione could return, be mated with him and safe if the pack had a new leader—someone who had the pack's best interests at heart, did not believe in the Death Eater cause and was deceptive enough to convince the Dark Lord he was still a loyal follower. Such a leader would solve all his current problems in a hurry.

[TRIGGER WARNING]

Fenrir was smiling at her expectantly, Hermione noticed through her drugged stupor. She was still struggling to figure out what his expression meant when he dragged her limp body by the hair into a standing position.

Fuck this! Tired of his sick games, she tilted her chin and stared into his eyes rebelliously.

His fearsome face contorted into a hideous smile.

At a snap of his fingers, the elf popped into the room holding a familiar-looking bassinet. Hermione craned her neck as far as she could and gasped. Her babies lay peacefully asleep in there. She tried to get to her pups but between Fenrir's grip on her hair and the bindings on her wrists and ankles made it impossible.

He dragged her two steps away from her sons and dangled a vial of potion in front of her.

Hermione mentally cursed the fertility potion. It would have hurt Severus to know the manner in which Voldemort and his followers were using his creation to forward their evil agenda.

Two fat drops rolled down her eyes as she squeezed them shut, and obediently opened her mouth in acceptance of her fate. She swallowed the potion Fenrir poured down her throat and knew she was given her a particularly potent dose when her whole body started heating up within minutes. Her skin was so sensitive even the fabric of her own clothes brushing against her skin was stimulating.

Sometime later, Hermione opened her eyes and looked around. The elf and her sons were gone and the only other person in the room was a naked Fenrir Greyback. The alpha wasted no time tearing away at her clothes, pausing only to evanesco the layer of filth on her. He pushed her face down to the ground and put an arm under her to pull her up so her arse was in the air. The position was not very different from what she had imagined Draco doing to her minutes, days, hours—she could not say how long—ago. One hand kept her face pressed into the mud floor in a show of dominance as he buried his cock inside her with a hard thrust.

Hermione winced. Despite how turned on she was, his entry was painfully intrusive. Although her first time with Draco had involved his wolf roughly fucking her without her consent while she was drugged, he was acting on his biological instincts at the time. Draco had not deliberately hurt her or taken delight in her torment. Compared to that, Fenrir was brutally pounding into her with no mind to her pleasure or comfort, grunting in approval any time she cried out in pain. There was no nuance to what was happening here, Fenrir was raping her.

The potion was fully in effect now. The lust from the potion had her pushing back onto Fenrir's cock, even as the mate bond tugged at her, making her feel sicker with every thrust.

A few more violent thrusts and the alpha released his seed inside her with a howl. He rolled off her and promptly fell asleep with no thought to her need. Cunt throbbing, the rest of her still sore from her previous injuries as well as Fenrir's rough handling she curled up into a ball. Hermione fell asleep crying, her mind too clouded by lust to remember the reason for her tears.

She had only just begun to nod off when her thighs were pried apart and a heavy weight settled on her. She was on her back, wrists bound and placed beneath her. Her legs, tied together loosely at the ankles, were around Fenrir with her feet resting against his back. The whole position made it impossible for her slender body to roll away from Fenrir's enormous form. She could not even pull up her knees to ease the discomfort of having him squeezed between her legs without it drawing him closer to her.

"A good bitch presents her wet cunt when an alpha shows an interest in her," he snarled, nearly crushing her collarbone as he squeezed a shoulder. His other hand held his cock, which he attempted to shove inside her, but the effects of the potion had dulled and he struggled to penetrate her.

Growling in frustration, he rubbed his cock against her entrance in an attempt to arouse her. It only made her sick.

"Work on showing me some gratitude, Mudblood. I may decide to spare your pups if you made an effort to please me."

Hermione gawked at him in confusion. She had complied with his wishes, what more did he expect of her?

"You may have been clever at school, but you're just a dumb cunt, aren't you?" he asked snidely. Then, possibly deciding he had enough of the foreplay, Fenrir spat on the head of his cock and roughly shoved himself inside her. Hermione bit back the scream of pain, hoping he would get bored and finish quicker.

"You're young. Bet you could pop several litters before you're useless. What need have I to raise Malfoy's bastards?" he casually asked while his cock pistoned in and out of her.

The uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach multiplied as her brain finally understood what he was implying.

"There's no need for you to hurt my sons, Fenrir. If you think they'll be a burden to you in some way you could return them to the pack," she implored.

Fenrir made a sound, something between a grunt and a chuckle.

"Pack's going to be going through some changes soon. ' doubt anyone willing to side with Malfoy will be long for this world."

Delighting in her turmoil, he fucked her harder and savagely bit down on her neck. She jumped, startled by both the fiery pain shooting through her body as well as the surprise of the unexpected action. He was trying to mark her. With bated breath, she held still and took his abuse, hoping her compliance would make him spare her babies.

"You will accept me as your alpha and do as I command?"

He was asserting his dominance as alpha, giving her little choice. She had to submit or risk having her throat torn open or her sons harmed.

"Yes," she whispered, keeping her head down and eyes lowered, like the omegas at Bleidd.

"You will submit to me in all matters?"

When she was slow to respond he brought his hand within her line of sight and readied himself to snap his fingers.

"Yes," she cried out. "Just, please don't hurt my babies."

Pleased with her submission, or how broken she sounded, Fenrir bit into her a little harder making her whimper in pain despite her resolve not to show him how much it hurt. He sped up his movements, forcing his cock all the way inside her battered passage before finally climaxing inside her.

Fenrir had raped her and dumped his cum inside her two more times before he finally left. Hermione did not care. She had stopped caring at some point, her only concern now the wellbeing of her sons.

House-elves were known to be good with babies. She hoped Fenrir's elf was taking good care of her sons. Her heart ached when she thought of Wilbur's angelic face and Martin's angry pout. She hoped Fenrir had used elf magic to bring them here, as travelling by portkey was considered unsafe for infants.

It was hard to know how much time had passed since Fenrir left but at some point, she noticed food placed on the ground near her head. Still bound, she could only feed by sticking her face into the bowl like an animal. However degrading the position, she needed to eat to get her strength up. The food was too little and too watery, which was probably a good thing. She wasn't too keen about lying in her own faeces until the next time Fenrir showed up to fuck her.

The food must have contained either the Fero or some type of lust potion going by her body's responses. She curled into a ball and grit her teeth, determined to fight off the feeling. Raping her was one thing, but Fenrir made a huge mistake when he threatened her babies. Never before did Hermione desire to end anyone's life the way she wished to end Fenrir's now.

With the twins gone, Draco had to suspect something was wrong and would come for them soon enough. Hermione could not wait for him to show up. And when he did, together, they would rip Fenrir Greyback apart.