"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" exclaimed Theo with dread as Gunnolf transformed right before his eyes.
The werewolf had clearly miscalculated the hour of moonrise. Barely past the gates of the school and the anti-apparition barrier, the clouds cleared and they found themselves struck by moonlight.
Theo, who wasn't a skilled or experienced duellist, lacked the battle-hardened nerves to react appropriately when staring danger in the face. Transfixed by the sight of Gunnolf's hunky form transforming into that of a killer beast, Theo stood rooted to the spot, muttering expletives, for longer than he should have before finally remembering to use his wand.
Gunnolf finished transforming and turned his gaze on the cowering form of the human before him. He rushed towards the wizard, jaws snapping, but only got a mouthful of dirt as Theo had apparated away.
Back cracking and spine rippling from the change taking over her, Hermione grunted in pain and fell to her knees. Her head stayed bowed while she caught her breath. The change was quicker this time, quicker and far less painful than expected; though she was still caught off-guard by the rage, the hunger and the urge to mate, she was overcome with all at once.
Hermione flexed her muscles and ground her canines before letting loose a long and triumphant howl. Even though she had changed form, she was still in control. For whatever reason the she-wolf was content with letting her human self take charge, only urging her to act on her desires.
Hunt, kill, eat, fuck. Hunt, kill, eat, fuck. Hunt, kill, eat-
Hermione did not agree with the fucking part, but, ravenous as she was, she could not fault the first three. Forgetting all about her resolve to isolate herself, she left the cave and rushed out into the forest.
With moonrise only a couple of hours away, Draco finished with his most important task for the night, securing the safety of his pups. Without any other non-werewolves he could discretely entrust with the care of his sons during the full moon, Draco was forced to call upon his elf. While he could not absolve Mipsy for his role in Hermione's suffering, the rational part of Draco's mind recognised that the creature could not be faulted for its actions as he had only been following orders. Unlike the Death Eaters, who made a moral choice to execute their master's evil commands, as a house elf it was Mipsy's nature to do as instructed. For the first time ever Draco looked past their usefulness and pondered the responsibility that came with owning house elves.
Having already tasked Mipsy with dispatching the contraceptive potion to Pansy earlier in the day, Draco had summoned his elf for one more task.
"Make sure you keep them safe and well hidden till the time I summon you again. Do not let anyone—werewolf or Death Eater—get their hands on my sons. Protect them at all costs, Mipsy."
He had informed Mipsy of his plans to travel to Uganda and handed him the bassinet with his sons, ordering the elf to ignore any command that subverted his instructions in any way.
The elf had gushed at Draco's feet, bawling in gratitude for being trusted with such an important task. Draco felt a twinge of guilt knowing he had basically ordered Mipsy to die, if needed, to protect his sons. It was selfish on his part to demand such a sacrifice, but Draco had not spared it another thought as he sent his sons off with a kiss to each of their foreheads.
Shortly after parting with his sons, Draco received word that Theo was waiting for him at the portkey point.
"Where's Gunnolf?" he asked, seeing Theo by himself.
"Why, hello to you too," replied Theo, earning himself a glare from Draco.
Theo rolled his eyes at Draco. "He's back in Uganda. We messed up with the time and he ended up transforming."
"So you just left him behind?"
Theo made an unintelligible sound of protest before providing an explanation.
"He nearly bit my arm off! I fuckin' got away just in time. By Salazaar, I'm never going to be able to think about his mouth without picturing those deadly teeth ever again." The last part he muttered to himself with a shudder.
Draco, on a tight schedule, had no patience for Theo's antics. He scowled at his friend; Theo had clearly indulged in a generous helping of the cheering potion.
"Don't give me that look. Mr Beefcake just pounced on me in a way I never imagined," Theo cried out. "My nerves are fuckin' shattered."
"So you just left him behind?" asked Draco, repeating his accusation, in a more menacing tone this time. "How in Hades do you expect him to return to Britain without an international portkey?"
Theo looked around sheepishly, like it wasn't something he had considered till now.
"Did you miss the part about how I was nearly killed by a werewolf?"
It was rather telling of Theo's battle experience that even after years of being a Death Eater it had taken so little to unnerve him to such an extent.
"I suppose it may be a good thing after all," said Draco, looking away and letting out an angry breath. I'll just meet with Gunnolf in Uganda."
...
"Fuck! It confirms what we suspected," said Theo. Draco had just finished telling him about his plans to leave Britain and his reasons for doing so.
Theo handed Hermione's wand to Draco and gave him an overview of their unproductive trip, leaving out any mention of the bloody field they had found. Draco's plate looked full enough and he stood a better chance of winning against Fenrir if he was hopeful about finding Hermione alive.
Of course, he now had to worry about how to proceed with their plans once Draco and the werewolves were gone.
"This changes things," he said, flashing a smile that contradicted the depth of his concerns.
"Not by much," reassured Draco. "We heard from Potter."
"Oh? Okay ... I suppose it's all up to me now, eh?"
His flippant tone hid his panic well. Draco's leaving would not, in and of itself, have a negative impact on their plans, but it definitely made him feel even more stressed out to know Draco would be temporarily out of the picture.
"No pressure," rejoined Draco with a smirk.
Summoning parchment and quill, Theo wrote down the location of the Death Eater base in Uganda.
"When you get to Uganda, give that place a try. Mr. Beefcake will most likely expect to find me waiting there for him."
Draco nodded and took the parchment from Theo.
"Apologise for me, will you? He scared me, that's all. It's one thing to know someone's a werewolf, quite another to see firsthand what that actually means..." said Theo, referring to Gunnolf. "Of course, given the opportunity I'd still shag him, just not during the full moon," he said with a chuckle.
The predators she had scared off weeks ago remained gone, leaving Hermione alone to hunt. This is boring. She spat out the decapitated head of yet another rabbit.
Despite being hungry, she did not care for the taste of the rabbits, warthogs and antelopes she had slaughtered in the last few hours. At least when it came to the hyena she had some fun separating it from its pack before she killed it just as easily as she had the other game available in the forest.
Hermione's wolf wished to return to Uagadou where she would find prey to satisfy her tastes. While the little creatures in the forest made for decent appetisers, she needed bigger game to satiate her hunger. She did not need to kill the Ebony Trio, the she-wolf argued, there was a smorgasbord of people at the school to choose from whether she wanted to eat or just bite and turn them. After all, if they wanted her to make Uagadou her home, what better way than making them pack in the truest sense?
Hermione gripped the tree trunk, claws digging in, and slammed her forehead against the tree in her struggle to resist the urgings of her beast. She moaned and slid to the ground, tearing out chunks of bark free in the process, as she tried to remind herself that she was more than just her beast. The she-wolf tried to cajole her human half to forget why she needed to stay away but made no attempt to wrestle away control. Having her two halves so opposed on this subject battered away at the sliver of sanity she had regained over the past couple of days, it was only a matter of time before her humanity would succumb.
In an attempt to get as far away from the school as possible Hermione ran further down the mountain, letting out a howl of frustration. An unexpected sound made her stop dead in her tracks, her ears perked up. For the first time ever Hermione heard her howl answered by another.
Moonrise nearly upon them, the pack gathered in the designated spot on the castle grounds to welcome the new moon. As the pack waited to undergo the painful, and for some lengthy, process of transforming into their wolves Draco took in his surroundings: the lush green grass beneath them, the dark silhouette of the castle towering behind him, the vibrant forest just beyond and the silvery light of the moon that slowly washed over them all. He took a moment to soak in how beautiful it all appeared. This would most likely be the last time he would ever stand on this piece of land he had called home for the last three years of his life. Bleidd had seen him transform from a cowardly Pureblood snob to a warrior, a father, and tonight, the alpha of his pack.
The battle lines were drawn without a word being exchanged between the groups. A large grey wolf with a scar across his face stood at the head of a small group on one side. Ears flat against his skull, tail twitching agitatedly, he looked ready to strike. On the other side, a large white wolf stood shoulder to shoulder with the bulk of the pack, his posture relaxed but alert.
The white wolf cleared himself of all thoughts that had brought him to this point. He was strong enough to defeat the alpha; to emerge victorious tonight he only needed to ensure his human half did not try to take over in a fit of rage. He stepped forward into the clearing, bared his teeth to the grey wolf and threw his head back to let out a howl that rang clear in the crisp night air. He had issued his challenge to the alpha.
The large grey wolf, who till now had looked eager to fight, unexpectedly stepped back and transformed into his human form to the shock of those gathered.
"You reckoned you'd actually pull this off, did you? Foolish, pup," said Fenrir with a shake of his head, "all you went and did was make sure every one of them"—he pointed to the wolves standing behind the white wolf—"dies with you tonight."
Fenrir looked around the field before he barked out one of his most destructive commands, "Kill every werewolf disloyal to me tonight."
They did not want to arouse Fenrir's suspicions by too many pack members abandoning his alpha bond all at once. They had thought it would be better for the majority of them to remain bonded with Fenrir until Draco defeated him and replaced him as alpha. No one had anticipated a scenario where Fenrir would ask the pack to turn on itself. Draco could only watch in horror as the pack aggressively attacked each other.
The she-wolf snapped at the air with deadly fangs and then cocked her head, listening. There was someone else in the forest, another wolf, a male.
Was it her sire? Had he finally returned for her? The she-wolf darted off, leaping over bushes in places and tearing through them in others, in her rush to discover the source of the howl. She felt a thrill like no other at the prospect of finding another creature like her, so she was terribly disappointed when she did eventually catch sight of the wolf.
Even from a distance, she could tell from his scent that he wasn't her sire and neither his scent nor his inferior form could tempt her into considering him as a potential mate ... But he could make for excellent prey.
She recalled biting her sire, his life force had tasted so good. Would this wolf taste as good?
Only one way to find out.
The she-wolf began to stalk the unknown wolf. She let out a growl to herald her presence. Her size and strength already gave her too much of an advantage over the grey wolf, she would need him to be on his guard and ready for her attack if there was to be any sport for her in this fight.
Once certain she had the grey wolf's undivided attention she charged silently, loping on all fours until she forcefully collided into him and knocked him to the ground. The unknown grey wolf did all he could to get out from under her, wheezing as he struggled to catch his breath. The she-wolf eased away from him, careful not to nick him with her claws. It would not do to prematurely end their fun by accidentally slicing something vital.
So confident was the she-wolf of her own superiority to the grey wolf she carelessly turned her back to him and walked a few paces away, ensuring she gave him sufficient time to recover. When she faced him again she expected to find him looking a little winded, not staring at her in wide-eyed bewilderment. The expression on his face as he got to his feet was one of recognition.
Did he know her? Was this Draco?
No.
No, Draco was a white wolf. She corrected herself, recalling some of her human's memories.
It did not matter to the she-wolf who he was and if he knew her. This grey wolf was her prey tonight and the only one likely to satisfy her urges without upsetting her human ... not too much anyway.
The she-wolf gave her opponent a few more minutes to prepare himself before tackling him to the ground. This is fun, she thought as she alternated between using her muzzle and forehead to repeatedly pound into his flank. His feeble attempts to fight her off only added to her amusement.
The male wolf whined and hissed pathetically before yielding to her by resting his head and shoulders flat against the ground. Instinctively, Hermione recognised the sign of his submission even though the she-wolf pretended otherwise. The she-wolf snarled and motioned for him to get up and resume the fight, but the infuriating wolf refused to even look at her let alone hit back. She tried to force him to his feet by biting into his scruff, which only made him whine louder.
Pathetic.
The she-wolf rapidly lost interest in fighting the snivelling creature at her feet; she was done playing with her food.
The battle turned out to be like nothing Draco had imagined. He had expected it to be a fight between Fenrir and him, with perhaps a couple of wolves, loyal to Fenrir, foolishly choosing to challenge him in the heat of the moment after the death of their alpha. Instead, the sadistic alpha had introduced the pack to a new kind of hell by compelling those bonded with him to kill one another.
A few betas tried to resist their alpha's command; they were viciously beaten by the omegas who were helpless to do anything but carry out the order. The small group of wolves who had bonded with Draco sustained severe injuries within the first few minutes.
Killing Fenrir was the only way to end this madness. The white wolf fought off the horde of charging weres in his attempt to reach the cruel alpha. Draco took great care not to seriously hurt any of the attacking wolves, but, caught in the heat of battle, he ended up maiming a good number of those who had stood in solidarity with him earlier that night.
Over the noise of gnashing teeth, clashing limbs, whimpers of pain and cries of terror, the white wolf could discern the sound of Fenrir's laughter. He glared daggers at him when they made eye contact, leaping over the wolf in his path to get at Fenrir. His progress was halted by three others that tackled him all at once.
"Are you so eager to die that you'd fight me, pup?" asked Fenrir.
The white wolf snarled at Fenrir, attempting to shake off his assailants. He willed his face to morph into his human form.
"Fight me, Fenrir! Defend your position as alpha with honour. I challenge you to fight me," Draco roared before returning to his wolf form.
"I'll deal with him," Fenrir told the wolves blocking Draco.
"So eager for a piece of me ... just like your bitch, aren't you?" Fenrir sneered when the white wolf finally reached him. "Ah, but you don't know 'bout that, do you, pup? All that time you were here pretending like you didn't help her escape I had your little Mudblood with her knees behind her ears begging for my seed."
Draco did not immediately notice that while flinging jibes at him, Fenrir was slowly circling him to assess his weak spots.
"I bit that bitch and turned her, you know, she'll always have that bond with me now—"
Draco's hackles rose.
"—probably knocked her up too, with the amount of cum I dumped into her stinky Mudblood gash."
Draco attacked blindly and Fenrir chuckled each time he failed to get a hold of Fenrir. The older alpha wasn't particularly quick on his feet, but Draco had started to feel the brunt of the injuries he had sustained in the battle so far and he was far too enraged to correctly anticipate Fenrir's movements.
The white wolf tried to compose himself. It would not help to dwell right now on the possibility of his mate carrying another wolf's pups. He reminded himself that his mate possessed a spirit far too strong to be broken by the likes of Fenrir. All that mattered was that she was still alive and the sooner he killed Fenrir, the sooner he could go find her.
Draco focused on the sway and motion of Fenrir's body instead of the taunting words meant to goad him into acting brashly. He timed his assault perfectly and tackled Fenrir from behind, causing him to yelp in surprise when he lost his balance and fell down.
While they wrestled on the ground, Fenrir grabbed at the white wolf's neck and began to choke him. Draco fought him off by swiping at Fenrir's face. Fenrir's head recoiled in time to avoid being shredded by Draco's sharp claws, but Draco still knocked the wind out of him by slamming his paw into Fenrir's chest.
Fenrir grabbed the white wolf by his tail and flung him off himself. Quickly stumbling to his feet, he jumped back, shifting forms mid-jump. The grey wolf feinted to his left before he spun around and charged at the exposed left flank of the white wolf, but instead of cutting him, the grey wolf only managed to graze the white wolf with one of his claws.
Dipping into his reserves, the white wolf relentlessly delivered a series of blows that laid the grey wolf flat on his stomach. He picked up Fenrir by the scruff of his neck, gave him a good shake and slammed him down again. He stepped on the grey wolf's tail, pinning him in place, before he proceeded to bite and spit out chunks of his adversary's flesh.
The grey wolf roared in pain and thrashed about wildly, trying to kick back at the white wolf. Just as it became apparent he was going to meet his demise, he made a poorly timed attempt to shift back into his human form, which forced his body to contort in an unnatural manner. Fenrir was still able to blast the white wolf with a Stupefy. It wasn't strong enough to knock him out completely but was just enough to free the white wolf's hold on him.
Getting back up, Draco chanced a quick glance around him to see how the battle was progressing.
Motionless bodies of pack members, he hoped were only unconscious, surrounded him. Many of those still engaged in battle had a crazed look to them; he suspected they had broken their bond with Fenrir in a valiant attempt to ignore the alpha's commands.
Fenrir had transformed into his human form, but parts of his chest, stomach and hip were mangled bits of fur, flesh and bone; his head, torso and hips stood at odd angles to each other. Overall, Fenrir's injuries resembled the fatal variety of splinching accidents. He did not look like he was in any state to move and any spells cast from his current position could easily be averted. He was done.
Then Fenrir called out, "Shield me," and around two dozen wolves rushed to provide him cover.
Can't kill Fenrir tonight.
During his time with the pack, Draco had heard varying accounts of the Pack Wars, but one point remained consistent in every telling—Fenrir Greyback was a ruthless alpha willing to commit any atrocity to win his challenges. Having already seen an example of Fenrir's ruthlessness tonight, there was no doubt Fenrir would use the pack as pawns to beat him. Before he could kill Fenrir, he would have to kill everyone still bonded with Fenrir.
So where did that leave them?
Most of the pack was in need of immediate medical attention. The ones that did not were either exhausted from the fighting or feral from going rogue. Draco was himself not unscathed that night. Though he projected strength and vitality, in his current state even an omega could knock him down if they resumed fighting. With him out of the picture, Fenrir would finish the task of killing everyone who had supported him in this fight.
There wasn't much of a choice here. Killing Fenrir was secondary to the survival of the pack so Draco decided to negotiate with Fenrir.
He changed into his human form and put forth his proposal in the simplest of terms. "Call off the attack and let me leave here tonight with whoever wishes to join me."
There was an odd noise, which could have been Fenrir snickering or just wincing in pain for all one could tell from the expression on his face.
"And why would I ever do such a thing?"
"Because I suspect you'll die if you wait till morning to get that fixed"—Draco pointed to the oozing hole in Fenrir's stomach—"The longer this fight goes on, the greater the likelihood of you croaking before you get appropriate help."
"I could just kill you and finish it right now."
"You could try," said Draco in a matter of fact tone, "but there's no guarantee you'll do any better now than you have the past hour and it would cost you precious time. Do you really want to gamble with your life?" he asked, knowing Fenrir would always put himself first. "Let us go and I'll pour the dittany on your wounds myself before we leave."
Fenrir was silent. He was either considering Draco's offer or in too much pain to talk.
"I can't let you take the pack and leave... I need them," he admitted after some hesitation before quickly adding, "I'd rather see them dead than leave."
And that is exactly why the pack would rather have anyone else as their alpha.
"Face it Fenrir, you lost here tonight. Be happy you get to walk away alive."
"I want to keep the ones I sired," insisted Fenrir.
"It's got to be their choice. That part is non-negotiable."
Fenrir reluctantly agreed and called off the attack on the condition that Draco would attend to his wounds before anyone else's. In exchange, Draco made Fenrir swear on his magic that he would not call for another attack or abuse his alpha powers again for the next twenty-four hours.
Not wanting to risk the lives of anyone in the pack by waiting until morning for Cora's assistance, despite being dead on his feet, Draco spent the rest of the night dispensing their limited reserves of dittany to whoever needed it the most and forming pack bonds with those willing to follow him. The rogue wolves were proving to be particularly difficult to manage in his exhausted state. He used a sleeping charm on them to ensure they did not do anything to endanger themselves or the pack for the rest of the night.
Fenrir was taken to one side after being treated. It would have been so easy to kill him in his vulnerable state but both alphas had sworn not to make any attempts on the other's lives during their twenty-four hour period of truce. If not for needing to care for his pack, he could have probably figured out a way to circumvent that oath and put an end to Fenrir but he was just barely able to put one foot in front of the other attending to his injured pack.
When morning finally came, Draco needed to be levitated, along with the sleeping feral werewolves, to the portkey point outside the wards of Bleidd to follow their plan of escape. Even though Draco lay bruised, bloodied and too weak to hold up his own head, his pack was proud to call him their alpha as they set out to make a new life for themselves.
AN: A helpful excerpt from Ch 8.
[Obeying the alpha's command gave one a general sense of calm and wellbeing not all that different from executing an order while imperiused. Ignoring an alpha's order caused constant unease and unrest in the werewolf followed by intense pain. While it was possible for someone other than the caster to end the imperius curse, the only way to throw off an alpha's command was to break the bond with the alpha, which in turn would result in a loss of the pack bonds as well. At that stage, you may as well be a rogue, an outcast.]