"Gunnolf? Where the hell have you been?" demanded Fenrir.
Gunnolf was passing by the main hall, on his way to Draco's private quarters, when Fenrir spotted him.
"Death Eater Assignment," was all he offered in reply. If Fenrir noticed his head beta's failure to address him with the customary 'my alpha' or 'sir', he made no mention of it.
"Took you long enough! That bastard, Malfoy's, cocked it all up. Took off with more than half my pack, he did! Haven't the faintest who's even with me anymore—No good, soft, bunch o' cunts. Do a quick count and report who's still here," barked Fenrir before distractedly looking around. "Now where in the bloody hell is Cora?"
He teetered his way to the nearest stone bench and sat down heavily on it. "Someone get the mediwitch—The blasted omegas can wait. She needs to see to her alpha right now."
He stretched out on the bench and looked like he may have passed out when he suddenly sat up and yelled at the werewolf standing closest to him, "Go check if there's any dittany that didn't get nicked by those thieves and get me some," then to no one in particular, "I'm gonna have a little lie down till then."
Fenrir lay back down. It was unclear if he was asleep or not, but he did not stir again.
Gunnolf, who had stood in place watching Fenrir instead of doing as ordered, was alarmed by the state of affairs since his return to Bleidd that afternoon. He would have arrived sooner if not for their impromptu trip to the Death Eater base that morning. He had agreed to take Hermione to the unplottable location thinking at worst her wolf would vent her rage by tearing up the furnishings in the place. Even if the structure was made of brick and sticks, it was reinforced with potent magic so he was not prepared when she blasted chunks off the walls and caused the floor to sink.
Having lived most of his life exclusively around werewolves, Gunnolf was used to seeing amazing feats of physical strength, but he had never witnessed magic like this before. He had fallen to his knees, watching his alpha in action. Even in her fury and madness, she was a sight to behold as with a graceful twirl of her fingers and flick of her wrist she unleashed destruction on the place she had been held captive. Watching the corners of her mouth lift into the smallest of smiles as she admired her handiwork it was clear, Fenrir would be shown no mercy.
Gunnolf watched her work, awestruck. He needed to repeatedly remind his wolf that he would only make a fool of himself if he attempted to impress this bitch—she was not for him. She was Draco's fated mate and he hoped, for the sake of the man he called a brother, the mate pull was strong enough that Hermione's wolf did not end up rejecting Draco for being so very inferior to her.
They had portkeyed to Britain soon after, where Gunnolf parted ways from Hermione in a Muggle part of Wales before apparating to Bleidd. Upon his arrival, he was astonished to find there were no guards in sight. Foot patrol was usually light the day after the full moon, but never completely absent. Given the hour, the betas should have recovered and taken to their posts, but every checkpoint, on his way to the castle and inside, was unmanned.
Gunnolf dashed towards pack quarters, knowing he was bound to find Draco, Cora or Oskar there. Along the way, he observed that instead of slumbering in their quarters, as they usually would, many pack members were resting in and around the main hall. Every one of them sported bruises and, even in passing, their injuries looked far more serious than anything typically sustained during their full moon brawls.
The sound of Fenrir ranting and raving, as he paced up and down the length of the main hall, reached him but in spite of his keen hearing, no sense could be made of Fenrir's angry mutterings. A quick peek inside showed a feral-looking Fenrir chastising his betas while they stood around looking miserable. Not wishing to deal with Fenrir till he had spoken with Draco, Gunnolf had attempted to sneak past the alpha unnoticed, but failed.
Once it looked like Fenrir was not going to get up again anytime soon, Gunnolf signalled to a couple of the betas to follow him as he stepped outside the hall to have a private chat with them. The worn-out looking werewolves spared no details, telling Gunnolf about Draco's failed attempt to challenge the alpha, Fenrir's chilling revelation of what he had done to Hermione, the unprecedented battle between pack members, and the temporary truce negotiated by Draco that prevented Fenrir from carrying out retribution within a twenty-four hour period.
It came to light that the alpha's magic had become unstable ever since his fight with Hermione. Subsequently, more than physical wounds, Fenrir was worried about any adverse effect his most recent fight may have had on his abilities and powers as an alpha. With his weakness exposed, Fenrir was afraid of being abandoned by the rest of his pack. His insecurities led him to force the pack to gather around him in the main hall so he could keep an eye on them until the truce period expired. The ones too injured or exhausted to move were dragged physically, as close as he could in his current state, by Fenrir himself.
As if losing half his pack in one night was not bad enough, Fenrir's bad day only got worse after he received a puzzling howler from a couple of high-ranking Death Eaters. The voices mentioned something about them having fulfilled their part of the deal by providing information about the elf. They threatened Fenrir for attempting to deceive them and ordered him to immediately deliver their payment to Chateau Lestrange in person. Fenrir had looked more confused than concerned throughout, and his betas thought he would have disregarded the severity of his wounds and answered the Death Eater summons if he did not question his pack's loyalty to him.
While Gunnolf was still catching up on everything that had taken place since moonrise, someone had located Cora. He had no chance to talk to her or even draw her attention as she was rushed to Fenrir's side. Cora's hands moved automatically, going about the task of changing Fenrir's dressing and healing him, but her primary focus was on questioning the alpha about Zoey's whereabouts. Gunnolf watched Cora's frustration mount as Fenrir ignored her questions. The older alpha wasn't interested in talking about anything other than Draco and the many ways in which he planned to torture the newly minted alpha as soon as he was healed.
No one knew where Draco might have taken his pack, so it was a relief to see Cora still around, even if he did not know what to make of her presence. Given what he now knew of Draco's departure from Bleidd, Cora's choice not to follow her alpha was puzzling. He doubted Cora wished to bond with Fenrir again and could not imagine a scenario where their tough mediwitch was coerced into staying against her wishes. There was no point in guessing at Cora's motives, he would simply ask her once they had a chance to speak in private.
What happened next took them all by surprise. One moment he was trying to catch Cora's attention while she worked on Fenrir and the next moment the hall was stormed by a group of Death Eaters, who within minutes had every werewolf, except for Fenrir, subdued and laid out on the floor. Unaware of what was going on, it seemed wiser not to resist at the time and just see what happened, but the Death Eaters' ability to pull off a surprise attack on them confirmed a suspicion long held by many in the pack; Fenrir shared details pertaining to the castle's security and pack operations with outsiders.
A pair of important-looking Death Eaters entered, their regal black robes billowing around them. From the things the men would go on to say, along with what he knew of the howler Fenrir had received that day, Gunnolf would come to realise that these men were the Lestrange brothers.
"Did you seriously imagine you'd get out of paying by sending an owl, you foolish mutt? You need a lesson on how to treat your betters."
The wizards tossed a mangled pile of fur, flesh and bones at Fenrir's feet. It looked like the remains of a creature but with the numerous odours cloying to it, it was impossible to identify what it may have been. It was equally impossible to ignore the words coming out of the brothers' mouths as they gleefully described the inventive ways in which they had raped a pregnant Ginny Weasley. Although he never cared one way or another about the witch, Gunnolf's hackles rose, hearing the way these men spoke about her.
His fury only increased when he heard the rest of it and managed to piece together what had actually taken place.
The Death Eaters had provided Fenrir with information about an elf. As payment, he was supposed to give them Ginny Weasley on the sly for a night. However, since Draco had executed their plan at some point and replaced Ginny with Zoey, Fenrir had unwittingly given them a polyjuiced Zoey instead of the redhead. When they discovered the deception, the Lestranges were livid and punished the creature for Fenrir's attempt to cheat them.
Simultaneously, every werewolf in the room stared in horror as they realised that the remains callously discarded near Fenrir's feet was all that was left of one of their own, with Cora and Gunnolf feeling the added pain of knowing just who it had been.
The brothers ordered their men to find the pregnant redhead, entertaining themselves while they waited by casting crucios at the werewolves. Once again, Fenrir was spared.
When their men returned empty-handed, they issued an ultimatum.
One of the brothers stared pointedly at Fenrir and in a menacing tone, said, "Deliver us our payment by sunset tomorrow, Greyback."
"Yes. We'd hate to risk a crucio from the Dark Lord for killing a filthy mongrel like you," added the other with a snicker, reminding Fenrir of his insignificance to their organisation
Fenrir began to rant and rave as soon as the Death Eaters left, but he wasn't angry with the men who had just humiliated him and hurt his pack. He blamed Draco for what had taken place.
"That sonafaitch Draco, tricked us all," Fenrir whined. "I'll teach that bastard a lesson ... Soon as I get word to Lucius Malfoy about what his brat's been up to—"
Bodies were strewn about the hall, groaning in pain from either the crucios or battle wounds reopened by them. Gunnolf searched for Cora among them, knowing she would be in need of consolation following what they had discovered about Zoey, but she could not be found. The mediwitch had left Bleidd.
With Cora gone, there was no need to stick around any longer. Taking advantage of the chaos in the room, as the injured tried to heal each other, Gunnolf also slipped away. He was barely down the corridor when he got the impression he was being followed.
He turned around and stared at the shadows until a group of omegas stepped into view.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"Just following you, sir."
"No, you're not. Turn around," he ordered flatly before going on his way.
The group wasn't easily deterred and continued to follow him.
Gunnolf scowled at them. "Why are you still following me?"
"We're omegas, but we're not stupid, sir. Unlike the alpha we notice things."
"And what is it you think you've noticed, pup?"
"You no longer follow Fenrir Greyback. We know you're leaving Bleidd, sir, and we wish to join you."
"If you wanted to leave Bleidd, you should've left with Draco this morning. Now turn around."
"We stayed because we were too scared of what would happen if we left," said one.
"But it's clear now that the alpha plans to punish even the ones who stayed," said another.
"And it looks like there's going to be trouble with the Death Eaters come sunset tomorrow," a third chimed in.
"If you're looking to run away because you're scared of fighting then following me is the worst choice you could make right now."
"It isn't the fight we run away from, sir. The alpha had no problem ordering us to kill Draco and other members of our pack last night, but never acted against the outsiders who attacked us in our house today," said one of the few betas in the group. "If we are to die, we'd rather die fighting our true enemies."
Gunnolf growled in frustration but made no further attempts to stop them. The group following him grew larger as he made his way out the castle and past its wards.
Gunnolf apparated them to an abandoned Muggle house and the werewolves were taken aback to find Hermione waiting there, instead of Draco, as they were probably expecting. Attired in some strange-looking clothes, presumably Muggle, Hermione appeared far more composed now than she did this morning.
He ignored the murmurs from the weres standing behind him when he dropped to his knees, and again, when he addressed Hermione as his alpha during his rushed explanation for why he had taken longer than expected only to return with members of Fenrir's pack. Gunnolf was more afraid now than he was when the Lestranges attacked. Despite her seemingly good mood, there was no telling how Hermione's wolf would react to him showing up with nearly two dozen werewolves and no clues for where her pups and Draco might be.
Through sheer chance Hermione happened to notice the abandoned suburban house in the Muggle town they had arrived in. While she waited for Gunnolf to return, Hermione enjoyed an evening of dull normalcy, the likes of which she had ceased to remember ever existing.
The old Muggle house, devoid of magic, was a throwback to the familiar world of her childhood that preceded the arrival of her Hogwarts letter. Here, it was easy for Hermione to pretend she was just another Muggle girl as she put on a pair of oversized jeans and a faded Oasis T-shirt she found among the items left behind by the house's previous occupants. She nearly cried when she found an unopened pack of her mother's favourite brand of tea among the tea things and proceeded to prepare the beverage like she remembered watching her mother do so many times as a child. There was no milk, of course, and insects had gotten into the sugar, but the tea still tasted just as good to her.
Hermione made herself comfortable, settling into a cushy armchair she had spent a good deal of time beating the dust out of, with a chipped cup of tea in one hand and a dog-eared book—another treasure discovered during her exploration of the house—in the other. The tension began to leave her body as she immersed herself in the silly tale of a naive young woman seduced by her older and more worldly boss. Engaged in her game of pretend, Hermione relaxed to the point she fell asleep, only to be woken much later by the loud crack of apparition in the adjoining room.
Inexplicably, Gunnolf had returned with company, a sorry bunch of werewolves the she-wolf regarded with disdain. Hermione patiently listened to Gunnolf explain himself, reserving questions for when she would speak with him alone later. Once he finished, she directed her attention to the fidgety group behind him.
"Is there something you wish to say?"
They looked at each other until one of them spoke, albeit hesitantly.
"There's been some confusion, is a'. We came along thinking Gunnolf was taking us to Draco 'n' th' rest. Dinna ken what's gone on 'ere, but we ... eh ... We dinna want no—"
"This isn't what we left Bleidd for," someone else declared definitively.
Whatever was going on did not concern her. The she-wolf returned to the armchair, occupying it like it was a throne.
Gunnolf got to his feet and addressed the group.
"Planning to return to Bleidd and Fenrir then, are you? Because if you leave now that's the only option you have left."
"We'd be better off on our own," stated one of the betas. "No offence to Hermione," she added, briefly looking Hermione's way, "I have a great deal of admiration for her. But, just coz she's carrying Fenrir's pups doesn't make her fit to be an alpha."
The she-wolf's look of disinterest changed to one of antipathy.
"Who said I'm carrying Fenrir's pups?"
"Fenrir did. He told us he had fucked you enough times to knock you up," someone else replied crudely.
The she-wolf bared her fangs and snarled in warning, "Watch your tone, wolf."
Ignoring the collective gasp from the group, she rose from the armchair and approached them.
"I want to make something clear and then I want you gone," she told them in a tone that brook no argument. "I'd rather rip the pups out of my womb than let that foul creature's seed grow inside me. I am not pregnant and he didn't fuck me. He imprisoned me, drugged me and raped me. If the coward had not run away from our fight, he'd already be dead for his crimes."
When it looked like no one was going to say anything, Gunnolf spoke up.
"Hermione, my alpha, these people need your help"—he glared at the group behind him—"whether they realise it or not. You cannot turn them away. They need an alpha."
Hermione glared at Gunnolf, exasperated. What did he expect her to do when they did not want her as alpha?
"Fight them. Make them submit to you. It's the only way they'll see you're their best choice right now."
"My wolf doesn't even want them in my pack."
"But you do need a pack," pointed out Gunnolf.
"It wouldn't be a fair fight—"
"Yeah, there's twenty-two of us," said one of the betas.
"—They're mostly omegas and they're all injured. It's beneath me."
"It'll end their doubts in a hurry."
Seeing Gunnolf's point, Hermione shrugged and transformed into her wolf, thinking she may as well get it over with.
"What in Hades is that?" cried one of the omegas, the room now abuzz with nervous murmurs.
She supposed her wolf would cut an imposing figure within the confines of the small and over-crowded living room. She rolled her shoulders, cracking her spine and flexing her muscles—she had never felt this good in her wolf form before. Hermione could feel more than one wolf bond with her, accepting her as alpha even if their humans had yet to say so.
With not enough space to prowl like she wanted to, Hermione impatiently tapped the floor with one of her paws, claws clacking noisily on the wooden floor as she waited for an opponent to step forward. When they continued to talk amongst themselves, she grew bored and changed back into her human form.
"Are we fighting, or did I just ruin a pair of jeans for nothing?" asked Hermione, looking with regret at the tattered pieces of the garment lying on the floor.
"Fight or submit, because we don't have time to waste," Gunnolf snapped at the group, then turned to Hermione, "We'll have to hide them somewhere. Fenrir will be looking for his pack soon as the truce ends."
"Won't he have his hands full with the Death Eaters?" asked Hermione.
"No, Fenrir may not be the brightest alpha, but he's one cunning wolf. He's gonna use Lucius Malfoy to go after Draco and the pack. Can't imagine any place in Britain safe for the pack when that happens."
Hermione looked towards the group of werewolves who were on their knees now. They had submitted and she could feel tendrils of their magic entwining with hers. The she-wolf was right, they were a sorry bunch, but they were hers now.
She sighed loudly, then closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on the bonds forming between them. They were hurt, confused and scared, so Hermione did what came naturally to her and reached out to them, pushing all the comfort and reassurance she could muster their way through the bond.
There were gasps, and even some tears this time, as the battered wolves experienced for the first time what it meant to be cared for by their alpha. They drew closer to her, hesitant initially, but when she did not object, they huddled around her, drawing strength and comfort from their alpha.
Hermione herself was overwhelmed by everything she was experiencing in those moments, unable to distinguish her own emotions from theirs. The muggle, the witch and the wolf all melted into one being, the pack.