I know it's been a long time, but I have a present :D

*giggles and hands over a new chapter*

What's Your Poison

Hermione sighed and leaned against the wall, moments after Fenrir Greyback had been escorted back to his cell. Get a grip on yourself, you CANNOT find this monster attractive. But oh did she. No longer unkempt, smelling of sweat and blood, he was positively mouth-watering. No, she needed to get control over herself before she made a mistake. And the way her name had fallen from his lips, with the most delicious growl.

She and Harry had already set up the house she would be calling home until Cathan Winters was caught, making sure that her room was well protected from the likes of Fenrir Greyback, that wards were up to protect them both from anyone who held a grudge to the werewolf, or if the Winters pack came to get Greyback. She had multiple emergency portkeys stashed around the house, though she wasn't sure if she would need them for Greyback or for worse enemies. Either way, she could not find this man attractive.

It's because you've gone too long, need to remedy that. Hermione clenched her jaw, sure that she could convince her lover to come over and have his way with her. She just hoped her werewolf house-guest wouldn't cause issues. She tried to think about how long it had been since she had enjoyed the rough, calloused hands of Charlie Weasley, and she reasoned it had to be at least eight months since she had last spent the night in his arms.

Once she got what she needed, it would be easier to be in Greyback's presence. Though the nagging voice in the back of her mind was quick to point out that she was essentially using Charlie as a way to control her lust for a dangerous werewolf, who had, in fact, attacked Charlie's brother. Hermione sighed and ran her hand down her face, this was going to be harder than she had realized.

Before she could debate using Charlie Weasley as her knicker-soaking, dragon-wrangler friend with lots of benefits, her coin in the pocket of her robes grew hot.

Need help with the escort?

HP

Hermione smiled, almost hearing the way Harry would have asked that, his voice full of concern. He had been the most uneasy of her friends with the idea of her living with Fenrir Greyback. Still, she was also the only one who could possibly gain anything from the arrangement.

Hermione, now Head of the Department and Control of Magical Creatures, had spent two years since the battle, changing almost every law she could get her hands on. She had created a branched off sub-department called Access for Sentient Creatures. Although she was still struggling with certain people in the Ministry when it came to goblins, centaurs, and house-elves, she had been able to push through laws regarding werewolves with some ease. Especially after Remus Lupin's sacrifice in the battle had come to light. Hermione hoped that in death, Remus was proud of her efforts to help those with his condition.

It had been easy to convince the Wizenagmont to approve funding for werewolves who agreed to the conditional use of Wolfsbane. Still, she was desperate to fund research on the condition. Even if all they accomplished was to make the Wolfsbane Potion taste better, that would be a success for her. But that wasn't what she truly wanted, no Hermione was convinced that with enough research there might someday be a possibility for a vaccine or cure.

And having Fenrir staying with her would provide her with much-needed research and in-depth knowledge about the condition. There was a lot to gain, but as Hermione sighed, also a lot to lose if she couldn't control her urges around the werewolf.

Tapping the coin in her hand, she ensured Harry that she was fine, and placed it back in her robes.

Ten minutes later, Hermione's heart quickened when Fenrir Greyback came strolling down the hallway dressed in jeans and a tight blue flannel shirt, which hugged his muscles far too well for Hermione's comfort.

Swallowing, she stood up straight, forcing herself to at least look resolved, "Ready Greyback?"

"To leave this place? I've never been more ready for anything, girly."

Hermione couldn't ignore the smirk Greyback wore as he looked at her, especially when his eyes tightened on her neck. She grimaced and made her way to the door, aware that he was following her.

Seconds later, Hermione stood in the front garden of the small cottage she and Greyback would be sharing for the foreseeable future. It was a little cottage with an overgrowth of vegetation surrounding the house, including a bit of devil's snare near the window of Hermione's bedroom, and extra precaution Neville had been determined to leave her with.

"Smells old," Greyback said, and Hermione turned to see the werewolf's nose crinkled as though disgusted.

"It has been uninhabited for almost a decade, with little care, but we did what we could. I'm sure it's better than your cell in Azkaban," Hermione said her words sharp as she considered the wolf before her.

"That it is girly, and I plan to enjoy my freedom from that cell in more ways then one," Greyback said with a growl that caused the hair on the back of Hermione's neck to stand on end.

"Let's go inside and have some tea while I explain some of the other conditions of your release," Hermione said and, without waiting for a reply, walked towards the house, her wand sliding down from inside her sleeve, as she waved it unlocking the heavy wooden door.

She didn't look back to see if Greyback was following her, she didn't need to, she could feel his presence. She walked through the small front room, into the slightly bigger kitchen. Hermione hurried around, making tea, falling into the old habit she had learned from her mom. That a warm cup of tea could help make even the most uncomfortable of things more comfortable. Facing the cooker, she was slightly relieved when she heard the chair near the small table scrape across the old stone floors. At least Greyback hadn't run away.

"While I won't say no to a cup of warm tea, I think this conversation calls for something a little stronger, don't you think girly?" Fenrir said, his voice deep and measured, and Hermione was sure by the way her body throbbed that his eyes were raking up and down her body. "So, what's your poison girly?"

Hermione turned, leaning against the counters behind her and eyed the werewolf carefully, "I'm assuming you mean something like this?"

With a swish of her wand, a panel above the dining table swung open, revealing a well-stocked liquor stash. Though she wasn't usually much of a drinker, Ron had taken her shopping for what he called "necessities" before she moved in with Greyback.

"That is exactly what I meant," Greyback's dark eyes had widened at the sight of the stash, and he quickly pulled a bottle of firewhiskey from the alcove. He twisted the cap off quickly, and before Hermione could mutter a single word, he had brought the bottle to his lips.

She was going to say something to him about it, but the kettle began to whistle before she could move her lips. Shaking her hair, causing a few curls to fall from her bun, she turned back towards the cooker and began to prepare the tea. She hadn't bothered to ask what type of tea Greyback preferred, and now that she thought of it, it had been somewhat of an oversight. Hermione only ever kept PG Tips at Grimmauld Place. With a grimace, she turned back to the table with the tea tray.

Her eyes went to the now half-empty bottle of firewhiskey, her brows knitting together. "Good Godric Greyback, could you go easy on the liquor?"

Greyback's brown eyes swept up and down her body before he stared into her eyes with a curious glint. "Don't worry, girly, I saved plenty for you. It would take a lot more than one bottle to affect me, but it does leave you burning pleasantly, don't it?"

Ignoring his comment, though, filing it away for later when she would inevitably go to the market again. She handed him a cup of tea and asked, "Why do you insist on calling me girly Greyback?"

Fenrir Greyback had lifted his teacup to his nose, smelling the contents as though trying to detect any poison. Though Hermione could tell he was seriously cautious, she couldn't help but chuckle.

"Why would I bring you all the way out here, Greyback, if all I wanted to do was murder you?" Hermione laughed.

"Old habit, girly," he responded, finally taking a sip of his tea. He added about a heavy shot of firewhiskey to the cup before he continued to drink. "And I insist on calling you girly because you are of the womanly kind, but I'm sure you're far too innocent to have fallen into bed before marriage, so amongst wolves, you would still be considered a girl."

Hermione gasped, she could not believe he had alluded to the idea that Hermione was a virgin. Before she could think she all but shouted at the wolf, "I'll have you know I have fallen into bed, and with more than one man and for your information, another woman as well. So stop calling me girly this instant."

Hermione clapped her hands over her mouth, wishing against hope that she could put the words back. Still, she could see by the expression on Greyback's face there would be no way that Greyback would ever forget what she just said. Damn werewolf strength and being unable to use memory charms against them.

Greyback licked his front teeth, an action that Hermione wasn't ready to admit did have an effect on her. His eyes studied her, and Hermione was suddenly very aware that he was as much a predator as a natural wolf, if not more so. Unbidden, the thought of Greyback's long fingers caressing her and tasting her skin, came to her mind. She was unable to keep the groan from escaping.

"You're going to need to get that under control Granger if you hope to make it away unscathed from me near the full moon." Hermione's eyes widened at his words, he couldn't possibly be talking about... "I can control the monster almost always, except near the rising, and I dare say if you haven't sorted out your issue, you won't be given much of a choice." Fenrir's voice was deep, his words, Hermione could tell, a true caution coming from the werewolf.

Standing up, Hermione walked quickly to her bedroom, ignore the sound of Greyback sniffing her as she passed. Indignant that he would bring up something so personal to someone he barely knows and in the professional capacity they know knew each other in.

Flopping onto her bed, she looked around the room. Her owl was perched atop its stand on her desk, but hiding in her nightstand was why this little cottage had been hooked up to the power grid.

Hermione bit her lip, she could owl Charlie and hope he had time tonight, or she could take care of herself. She almost sat up but stopped when she thought of enjoying Charlie Weasley's body when all she wanted right now was a werewolf who was currently shuffling around the house they shared. No, she couldn't do that to Charlie, she would just have to take care of it herself.

With a flick of her wand, she locked and silenced the door and opened her nightstand, extracting her two favorite electronic devices.

To be continued. . .