*Laughs hysterically*
A prologue certainly wasn't good enough on its own ;)

You Have Been Warned

Fenrir continued to pick at his teeth with the stone toothpick he always kept with him. It was charmed by the guards so that it couldn't pierce skin, so he didn't have a weapon. Honestly, it was a joke that the guards wanted to ensure he hadn't been given a weapon because no matter what charms the guards used on him, he always had two weapons on him. His hands when they turned to claws and the fangs he no longer kept concealed. Eating raw meat daily meant that you had a regular issue with sinew and tissue fibers getting stuck between your teeth. He had spent two weeks howling about it before the guards finally relented.

He had been surprised to hear that he was expecting visitors for the first time since being put in Azkaban. His parents and siblings had died over a hundred years prior, and he had never expected his old pack to come to visit him. However, he had secretly hoped the pup would show up eventually. He had spent many hours pacing his small cell worried about her fate, his innocent protege, who had never bitten anyone. Even with the Dementors gone from the prison fortress, it was still cold, frigid, and dark. Fenrir hadn't been given any indication as to who his visitors might be, outside of being told to scrub clean in the cold shower. He was given, and the fresh, clean outfit he'd been given. Whoever his visitors were, they must matter to the guards.

Fenrir couldn't help the grimace at the thought of what mattered to the guards. As a pack leader, he knew the proper way to care for people, especially people that you have sworn to protect and care for. And though the guards saw the prisoners as less than human, they should be kept to the same standards. Yes, all prisoners were fed, clothed, and kept semi-clean, but that was the only sort of care they were given. No mental stimulation for those that needed it, no time to stretch their muscles in a bigger area than the cages they were kept in.

He couldn't help the growl that left his lips, at the thought that passed through his mind, remembering the length of his sentence. Years didn't matter to a werewolf, they easily lived for five hundred years before their bodies even began to show any aging. His fellow prisoners knew they would die within the walls of Azkaban, but Fenrir had been sentenced to a lifetime. And the horrible ministry official that he had dealt with had all but ignored him when he had asked whose lifetime they were counting. If Fenrir hadn't already been restrained, he might have enjoyed threatening the pompous wizard with his claws.

But Fenrir's way forward had been clear the moment the Dark Lord had died, he had to show his humanity, the part of him he had been forced to hide away for the last half-century. Though Fenrir was thrilled that the Potter boy had killed the Dark Lord, Fenrir couldn't help but feel a bit jealous. After all the things the Dark Lord had done to keep Fenrir in line, he wished he had felt the last pulse of warm, coppery blood gush against his fangs.

Fenrir heard a door open further down the hallway from the room he was chained in and was surprised when he noted one of the scents. Familiar, but it had been years since he had gotten a whiff of its delicious notes. A mixture of lilac and parchment, under all of that, the scent of anxiety. A crisp scent that made Fenrir want to whine. Every time he had met her, he had smelled it.

He was only granted thirty seconds before the door opened, and his guests entered the room. The witch in front had certainly grown up in the two years since the end of the war. Though the Ministry robes wore her, he could still make out her delicate curves as she moved. He fought the urge to lick his lips at the sight. Though he knew it was rude to want a woman so bad, he couldn't reasonably be blamed, especially with one so ripe near him. The Azkaban guards the came in behind her, he ignored, as usual.

"Good morning Greyback," Hermione said, and Fenrir couldn't help but smirk as he heard her heart race as her brown eyes looked him over. He was suddenly thankful that he had kept working out and had been given a shower.

"Morning, girly," Fenrir said, fixing her with the most wicked smile he could produce.

"Greyback, have you heard the news lately?" she asked, and he could see the way her jaw clenched. Was it him, or was she annoyed about something else?

"I saw no reason to bother with those rags. Why do you ask?" Greyback responded, curiosity stirring in his mind. Why would she care if he kept up with the prophet?

"Well, Greyback, it seems some of your former pack learned to enjoy Voldemort's antics, and have grown rather fond of killing," Hermione said as she pulled a copy of the wizarding newspaper from her robes. She had ignored the snarl that he had issues at her at the mention of the Dark Lord's name, and he wasn't sure why he was so pleased to see the slight tremble in her hands as she pushed the paper towards him.

Fenrir leaned forward, noticing how the witch before him sat further back in her own chair, to read the headline. As he skimmed the article, he couldn't help the growl that broke his tight lips. So Winters had finally cracked, he had always known that boy was a sadistic piece of shit, but now was the proof. Though Fenrir would never say, he had made a mistake in turning the boy, who had been so young when he had found the starving little scamp. He had noticed many dangerous traits in the young wolf. Winters had been a loyal supporter of the Dark Lord, enjoying the senseless murder that the snake-like wizard had promised and rewarded. Not needing to know anymore, Fenrir leaned back in his chair and watched as the Granger witch let out a breath she had been holding.

"Seems the Ministry has quite a problem on their hands," Fenrir said, and though he gave her his best and most evil sneer, his heart clenched at the needlessness of the murders.

"Yes, and we have come to seek your help," Hermione said, and before she could continue, her words were cut off.

"You need their Alpha, don't you?" Fenrir already knew the answer.

The witch before him seemed caught off guard, and he couldn't help but roll his eyes. From what he had heard, Granger actually wanted rights for all magical creatures. Still, there was no way the witch would understand the complexities of a werewolf, let alone a pack.

"Yes," Hermione said simply.

"Well then, I have some conditions," Fenrir said.

"We assumed you would," Hermione replied, though Fenrir could hear the hint of bitterness in her voice. He had to remind himself, as he had done all throughout the war, he had a part to play, an image to maintain, and he could not break down now. Not when he was this close to freedom. "I'll explain the terms, and you can request what you would like, and I will see if it's acceptable."

Fenrir smirked but stayed silent as the witch pulled another thing from the depths of her robes. She unrolled a scroll of parchment and looked at him carefully before she began to read.

"Fenrir Greyback, per the conditions of your aid to the Ministry, you will be granted a reduced sentence of ten years that you will serve immediately following the capture of Cathan Winters. In addition to this change in your sentencing, the Ministry has set up a committee and fund for members of your pack who are found innocent of the crimes that the Winters Pack has conducted. Those members will be granted housing, job support, and monthly Wolfsbane potion access every month. After your release from Azkaban, you will be granted access to the same services."

Fenrir leaned back and studied the witch carefully, he couldn't believe the change in Ministry policy when it came to his kind, but he couldn't help but be irked by the rest.

"I will not serve another ten years after helping you round of Winters. I will be free at the end, though if you want to keep an eye on me yourself girly, I won't object to that," Fenrir sneered, enjoyed the spike in her heart rate again.

The witch stayed silent for some time before she pulled a large galleon from her robe pockets, she immediately tapped it with her wand. When the large coin glowed, the witch paid it no more attention and continued to stare at him. Fenrir was on the edge of asking her what the bloody hell that was about when the thing glowed again.

"The Minister agrees to your conditions, but adds a stipulation, your wand and magic will be traced for the ten years instead, to ensure you don't slip back into your ways," Hermione spoke with a tone of finality. Though Fenrir desperately wanted to get another rise from the witch, he couldn't believe his luck. Though he didn't possess a wand, he assumed that would be fixed, and as there was no risk of him returning to the way he behaved during the war, he'd let them think it was a huge annoyance.

"Fine," Fenrir said. Pausing, he sneered at the witch again and growled, "So when do we begin girly."

"Immediately, you will be released today and taken into Ministry custody," she explained. She picked up the newspaper, parchment, and coin and placed them back into the pockets of her robes.

"Ministry custody, what exactly does that mean?" Fenrir asked growling. He was not about to consent to live in some other version of a prison.

"It means you will be living with a ministry official, who's home has been given the highest levels of protection, where you can retreat when you are not chasing the pack down," Hermione said, though Fenrir could hear the way her voice shook and her heart raced again.

"And who exactly will I be living with?"

"Me, actually," Hermione said.

Fenrir was stunned; he would be living with the perfect little Gryffindor. At the same time, he hunted down his pack members, it was like he was finally being given the vacation he had so desperately wanted for years. No, he was not upset at all about this new prison.

"You think it's safe for you to live with me, girly?"

"I have no problem turning my wand on you, Greyback," the witch's jaw was clenched. Fenrir smirked when her eyes flashed dangerously, this was going to be the most enjoyable prison he had ever been in.

"Let's see if you can resist my wand for that long girly. It's dangerous to live with a werewolf, or didn't you know that?"

"I can handle myself, Greyback."

"I'm sure you can, Hermione, but you have been warned."

To be continued. . .