THIS IS A PRIVATE RP BETWEEN BAMON & JEDI.

When Fenrir's teeth went deeper, piercing skin as hers had, Hermione flinched and let go. Tears appeared in the corners of her eyes due to the pain, her mouth muttering silent curses as for some reason she let her forehead rest against Fenrir Greyback's collarbone. A silent whimper left her lips as she felt him lick at her wound and as she felt the pain slowly easing she began to wonder what on earth had just happened.

Hermione could hear him growling again, arguing with his father, and she wasn't sure if he was going to shove her away in disgust or tear her to pieces. She was terrified and all she wanted to do at this point was go home. Unfortunately with her voice gone she couldn't tell anyone these thoughts so she did the only thing she could do. Hermione looked at her grandmother with a look of pure fear.

Iva couldn't help but feel a little sorry for her granddaughter. Normally this wasn't how things went but she was technically an outsider, she could leave without question prior to this and disappear never to return forever. This way she couldn't disappear. Fenrir would always be able to track down his Mate. Hermione would soon realise she belonged here as she had felt it before. She just needed to remember. First things first though...

"Fenrir quit it! You're scaring the poor girl. Now be the Alpha your father taught you to be and see to her needs."

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"Mother, please . . . "

Fenrir said quietly, his arms snaking around Hermione. He rarely ever referred to Iva as his mother, for he still vaguely remembered his birth mother from child hood, but this was one such rare exception. He didn't need her chastising him; it was stress he didn't need, and likely wasn't helping Hermione to calm down.

As much as he was annoyed by what transpired here, she was his mate, and now he'd marked her. She was a werewolf now, and the next full moon was not even a week away. Bloody Merlin, he doubted this would end well.

As he gently shushed and soothed the frightened girl in his arms, he slowly stroked her hair, drawing her attention away from his other hand as it carried out it's own task. Just like grabbing the back of a werewolves neck would temporarily paralyze them, pressing against the gap right behind their ear would temporarily relax every muscle in their body – save their heart, of course.

Pressing against this small area, Fenrir adjusted his arms to accomidate the limp woman in his arms, picking her up bridal style with her head over his heart as he stood up himself. Never once did he stop with gentle, soft-spoken words designed to help her mentally relax. As far as he was concerned, his father and step-mother weren't in the same universe as he cared for his mate. They were down each others throats not five minutes ago, but now Fenrir would do anything to keep her safe, relaxed, and happy. Thus was the bond between a werewolf and their mate.

"I'm taking you to the packlands," he murmured once he was walking through the forest, away from his parents' home, "I think you'll enjoy it there. It's absolutely beautiful; there's a brook running through the middle of camp, even a few small waterfalls. It's relaxing, sitting and listening to it babble on a warm summer day, even when the pups splash around and try to keep themselves cool. Can you hear that? Mimus polyglottos; a Northern Mockingbird, imitating another bird close by. And there, that rapid tapping, hear it? Dendrocopos major; a Great spotted woodpecker, making a nest for it's offspring. And that loud wheezing noise? Petronia petronia; a rock sparrow, calling for a mate."

His voice was low, rhythmic, his words purposefully descriptive as he tried to draw her attention to specofic points of the world around her. As her werewolf senses developed, Hermione would likely be overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of sensory information. Getting her to focus on one thing or another was a nice trick to help her cope. And would also distract her from struggling against him once the effect from the pressure behind her ear wore off.

"Look; isn't it nice? These lands have belonged to my family for seven generations now. Can you see the buildings up in the trees? Sometimes in the summer, there are flash floods. We retreat to this treetop city to stay safe, warm, and dry. We even store most of our food up there. What about the caves, they don't look natural do they? My ancestors carved them out over the decades. Nobody really sleeps in them anymore, but we do use them for other things. That one by the river has a small storage of food that's easy for the pups to get to. The one in the back, where the camp is most fortified, that's a birthing den. See those pups over there? The den they're running in and out of has a closed tunnel system where they can chase each other, play tag and high and go seek. And that ledge, in the back right corner, that's my den underneath it. It has hour herb supply, and our pack's entire history within it. It's elevated at the entrance, so even during the harshest flash floods, water never gets in to damage anything. The brook cuts through the inside as well, which helps keep rain away from the interior depths."

He slowed his steps as he spoke, allowing Hermione the time to process everything he was telling her and see it with her own eyes, even as he still made his way towards his den. Once inside the cool, plesently damp cavern, he could feel the shift in Hermione's muscles from limp, to merely relaxed. Merlin knew how much longer it would be before she turned on him. After setting Hermione down he fly against one of the smooth stone walls, Fenrir left. Only for a few moments, a quick walk across camp and back, though when he returned it was obvious he had gone to grab something. A small chunk of meat, no more than two or three mouthfulls for a full grown wolf.

Seeing the meat aside on a few broad leaves, he turned his attention to a small pile of wood in the middle and set to work on lighting it. All the while, he kept his back towards the wall facing Hermione, allowing her to see everything he was doing. Once the fire was moderately lit, he shifted something on top of it. A caulderon. However, this wasn't for a potion. No, this was for a much simpler form of magic, one far older, more shamanistic, tribal. Every race had their own magic. As the water in the cauldron began to boil, Fenrir turned to several outcroppings of rocks; little hloes in the wall that acted like shelves and cubbies. Pulling out several herbs, he returned to the caulderon, glancing up at Hermione for a moment before his attention diverted again. One by one, he placed seemingly random measurements of herbs into the water. Thyme, lavender, and chamomile, to calm her frayed nerves. Licorice root, marshmallow root, sage and echinacea, and peppermint, each herb bound with a few seemingly meaningless rumbles from Fenrir's chest, all to the purpose of soothing Hermione's throat.

After each herb had been stirred into the boiling water, Fenrir took the meat in his hands once more. Extending his claws, he tore through the meat, cutting it into bite sized pieces which were also tossed into the water. It wasn't in there very long when Fenrir removed the caulderon from the fire. The meat was still mostly raw, enough to satisfy a young – young meaning newly changed in this case – werewolf, but still cooked enough not to sicken the human side. He allowed the mixture to naturally ease off a boil, still stirring it for some time afterwords until he was satisfied. The bowl he used to scoop out the concoction was obviously hand carved, judging by it's less than perfect dimensions, and the same observation could be said of the spoon that accompanied it.

Fenrir looked through the mixture in the bowl with the spoon, making sure there were a few pieces of meat before he walked over to Hermione. Despite not being entirely aware of what she was and was not willing to do to him at the moment, he settled down beside her, holding the bowl out to her.

"Eat this. The meat will calm the awakening wolf, and the broth will null the spell your grandmother cast so that you can speak again."

He explained softly. Leaning his head back against the stone wall behind him, he watched his mage, analyzing her every moment for signs of distress, aggression, or even trust, thankfulness . . . and perhaps even affection? As he had made her this soup of sorts, he had been chewing on a medley of ginseng, rosemary, sage, and forget me not leaves. All the while, he focused on those few blurry months of his teenaged year where Hermione was there, trailing after him whenever she had the chance and eternally tugging on his fluffy tail and pointed ears. The memories . . . hurt. Werewolves were very sensitive to their mates, especially those born several generations into a werewolf line like Fenrir was. Even then, he knew this little girl was so much more than she seemed. It physically pained him when Iva told him he couldn't see her again. He'd repressed those memories in order to repress the pain, and that was why he didn't remember at first.

Then he thought about the war. He noticed then, as well. That tug in his gut, the longing in his heart, it was all right there, but he refused to acknowledge it. He was so focused on what was best for his pack, on what Voldemort would have done to his home and his family if he hadn't obeyed. He hadn't thought for a moment that he'd finally found that troublesome little pup that had always warmed his heart after a long day of training with his father. He'd never been particularly searching for his mate, but now that he had her . . . he realized how lonely he had been without her. He couldn't erase what he'd put her through during the war, but at the same time she couldn't deny the connection they had when they were so young . . . could she?

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Oh god! Oh god! Oh god! She'd just bitten someone. Really bitten someone right through the skin. She could taste blood. Not only that but she realised he'd broken her skin to which meant... she was turning into a Werewolf now. Before she could physically panic she felt something touch the back of her ear and then felt her body go completely limp against her will.

She wanted to run for the hills but her body was no longer obeying her. She had no idea what the man was saying as he adjusted her in his grip and walked out. She wanted to scream, to go back to her grandmother and the relative safety of her cottage but now she was being taken away deeper into the forest. She had a feeling she'd never be coming out of this forest for the rest of her life.
Then she began to her what he was saying. Hermione hated that she was right. She knew enough to know that once you knew where the Packlands were you were not leaving them again. Not unless you were unwaveringly loyal. She was all for telling him where he could stick his Packlands when he began to point out bird species. Using their latin names and english ones. She didn't want to look. She really didn't but against her will her gaze followed his finger to see the birds he'd found.

She cursed her own unsatiable curiousity.

Hermione didn't want to listen to him ramble on about the details of his Pack's territory but with little else going on around her and her body still not her own she had very little choice. Of course she tried the best she could not to pay any attention to the words of his detailed explanation of the sceneary around them.

Finally, after what seemed like hours she finally felt something. It was just a very light tingle in the skin but it was enough to tell her that whatever Fenrir had done was now slowly wearing off. Hermione had already decided the second she could move her entire body that she would be making a run for it. Of course this would go against her body's instinctive reaction to Fenrir Greyback. The way her body wanted him, felt safe and at peace around him, was terrifying. She was grateful, in a way, she'd never noticed this when she'd seen Fenrir on the Horcrux Hunt or at the Battle of Hogwarts. It would have made fighting extremely hard.

Of course that wasn't all her body was going through. She could have sworn she could smell more, or at least smell things stronger then usual. It didn't help that suddenly her own heartbeat seemed as loud as roaring thunder or that the light hurt her eyes so much she had to clench them shut. Her once comfy jumper seemed to be rubbing her skin the wrong way as well. She had a feeling if she ate something then her taste buds would be stronger as well. If this was how bad her senses were when they were just starting to increase then Hermione was sure she did not want them to enhance any further. She knew, however, she had no say in any of that.

She was now a Werewolf with everything that entailed. Or would be once her transformation was complete.

"No. The meat is pink inside."

Hermione grunted, her back arching as her body began going through seziures as her blood began to thoroughly embrace the Werewolf gene into her DNA. She wasn't sure if she'd eat anything Fenrir made even if the meat was well done with absolutely no pink in the middle. Whilst she had not felt her 'Wolf' yet, she refused to let the Wolf change how she ate her meat at least. Just the thought of eating something raw - whether fresh from the butcher's or medium to well done - made her feel sick.

She began panting as she felt her body heat up, its temperature adjusting to what Werewolves felt as normal which was a lot higher then Muggle and Wizard alike. The pain of being so hot but unable to take off clothing due to the seizures was unbearable. Hermione ended up twisting her body until her right hand's fingertips managed to grip one of Fenrir's muscled thighs. Her nails pressed hard against the clothed thigh moments before her body turned again causing her face to press against his thigh. The scent that filled her nostrils made a sort of peace fill her mind and she hated it. The scent was wild, musky, and intoxicating.

She wanted more of it and that made her feel sick. Fortunately the pain of her body going through its transformation, or at least as much of one as it could without the full moon to bring on her first change into her Werewolf form or an Alpha's forcing of the change, stopped. Not only that but she could feel her entire body again. She could move! She leapt to her feet even as she began to hear a whispered voice saying 'Mate.' over and over again in response to Fenrir's scent.

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"That would be the point. Your wolf is hungry, and eventually it will lash out."

Fenrir explained. He didn't particularly mind that she would eat, though it did cause him to worry for her. However, if she was going to spite herself just so that she didn't have to recognise who or what she was, far be it from him to stop her. Being mates merely bound them to each other, allowing them to know each other's location at any given time, as well as cause them to abhor the sensual or sexual touch of any other person. They belonged to each other, and no one else, until the day they died. However, Fenrir couldn't force her to do anything she didn't want to do. Her will was still her own, and there was nothing, bond or not, that could change the fact.

A soft, low growl rumbled in his chest as he felt Hermione's hand against his thigh, his eyes slowly drifting shut. Was she embrasing him as her mate? It was hard to tell with her still transforming, but as her face pressed into his thigh, he was certain . . . Reaching up, he leisurely ran her fingers through her hair, his nails gently brushing over her scalp. It was only as Hermione jumped up and away from him that he realized that it was all involuntary. It made his heat ache, like it had when he was separated from her the first time. With a heavy sigh, he nodded towards the opening of the cave.

"Go on then. When you leave the camp, just head to the right, eventually you'll find the path that will get you back to the wizarding community. But don't say I didn't warn you when they tag you and treat you like dirt."

He said. He wasn't going to keep her here if she didn't want to be here. Hell, what could he do to stop her? This was Hermione Granger he was talking about, she would do what she wanted with or without his help.

"Mr. Fenrir?"

The alpha wolf turned towards the entrance of his den to see one of the pups of the pack, a little girl no older than four or five, playing with the hem of her shirt as she meakly awaited permission to enter.

"Come on in, Jordan. What's wrong?"

He asked softly, reaching his hand out for the little girl to take. With a gentle smile, he shifted his weight to sit up straighter as Jordan grabbed onto three of his fingers and stood beside him, just barely reaching his chest ever ad he was sitting.

"Momma asked me to come and get some honey. She said to tell you Noah was whining all night and now his throat's really sore."

Jordan explained, punctuating her words with a dutiful nod. Noah was the newest member of the pack – except Hermione, but, she technically wasn't a member of the pack yet – and also Jordan's little brother. The poor pup was a timid little thing, more so than other pups, but almost everyone was confident he would grow out of it with help as he grew up.

Shifting his weight once more, this time onto his hands as though to push himself into a standing position, he instead changed to his wolf form. Walking over to the "shelves" where he had retrieved the herbs for Hermione, Fenrir pawed away some dirt around the base to unveil a glass vial with the sticky golden honey.

"You like being a big sister, Jordan?"

He asked, glancing over to the little girl. If Hermione couldn't understand his wolf yet, she would soon be able to with the transformation.

"Yeah! Momma says he's too little right now, but I can't wait 'til I can play with him!"

Jordan giggled with an excited grin. Fenrir couldn't help but chuckled at the energetic little girl. Surprisingly she was actually one of the calmer pups, which was really saying something.

"He'll get there someday. I'll take this to your mother, why don't you go get her some food? I'm sure she's pretty hungry after staying up with Noah all night."

Fenrir suggested, causing the little girl to nod excitedly and run off. Looking back to Hermione, he couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking, seeing him like this. It certainly wasn't a side of him she'd become acquainted with, and with how much she seemed to loath being his mate, he doubted she ever would. Therefore, without another word, he left the den to carry out his task. Hermione could choose her course of action herself.

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"Surely well done meat would do?"

Hermione whispered weakly, feeling as if her stomach was turning just at the thought of eating rare meat. Of course it physically wasn't, she even felt hungry and she guessed this was the beginning of the Wolf asserting itself within her. She wasn't denying what she was now, she accepted it more or less, and she was trying to keep an open mind. However the thought of Werewolves being as the Wizarding world claimed did scare her. She just hoped that her grandmother was right and that Werewolves were a lot different then the Wizarding world portrayed them.

She had always looked for the truth and knowledge, and Werewolves would be no different. However she had no Severus Snape to protect her this time should a Werewolf turn on her.
It was only as she was stood there, scared and unsure, listening to Fenrir telling her how to leave that she realised she had liked his fingers running through her hair. If he was her Mate as her inner voice, her Wolf, seemed to declare and his actions seemed to say then why was he telling her to leave? Was he rejecting her? The thought of him rejecting her should she really be his Mate send a spasm of pain in her gut. Of course she could live without a man, she'd proved it thus far, but sometimes when she was alone watching others live romantic lives she couldn't help but wish she'd get to experience a little bit of romance too.

When a girl appeared in the cave Hermione couldn't help but feel protective of the girl. She didn't look scared, and Fenrir didn't seem to be behaving as his reputation told her he should. Still, she couldn't help but tense and prepared to spring should it be needed.

Her attention left the girl immediately, shock filling her and jaw dropping as with one second Fenrir had fluidly transformed from human to Werewolf without the aid of the full moon. Not only that but it was Wolfie. Her Wolfie. She may not remember much of her childhood or her time with Fenrir but she knew she could recognise Wolfie anywhere.

When he began to speak to the girl in a way she could not understand she couldn't help but feel jealous. She bit back a whimper, annoyed at her own uncontrolable reactions to this whole situation. She had a feeling when she was just a child she easily understood the language Fenrir was now speaking but due to the years that had passed without Werewolves she had forgotten it completely.

She found herself half wanting Fenrir to talk to her, not the little girl, and reassure her (although what she wanted him to reassure on she had no idea). However that was not what she got. After only a look he left the den without a single word or gesture to her. This time she couldn't stop the whimper as she got the feeling he really was rejecting her now. Where had he gone? Had he gone to a Werewolf woman that wanted him and could please him? Was he ever returning? Where on earth was her grandmother and Lupo when she needed them?!

What if that little girl and her brother were his pups?

"This is ridiculous. If he doesn't want me then its his loss."

Hermione told herself firmly and forced herself to leave his den. She had no idea where she'd go or what she'd do next but she knew she couldn't just stand or sit around waiting for Fenrir to return. If he wanted her he'd have to pursue her himself. She would not just wait like a spineless child wanting the briefest bit of affection.

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Fenrir delivered the honey to Kitsune, Jordan and Noah's mother, where she lay in the birthing den. The poor she-wolf was obviously tired, and he could understand why as he listened to Noah's whimpering cries. However, once Jordan arrived with good for her mother, he made his exit.

Werewolf packs and wolf packs were similar in many ways, but also distinctly different. Unlike in wolf packs, it was not only the Alpha male that could breed with the various females of the pack. That was in part due to their strong instincts concerning mates. In fact, the closest relation Fenrir had to any of the pups was that he was the uncle of two girls, twins.

Exit in the den, he was met with the ruckus of most of the pups shouting for their mothers and fathers, and looking up he could see why. Many of the pack members were returning with food after a hunting trip. As he approached, he could only smile as he watched the adults tear off chunks of meat and hand them to their pups. Each pup, as soon as they received their food, ran off to a shady corner of camp and tore into the meat, bloody and raw, like it was the sweetest candy. Perhaps that could convince Hermione that raw meat wouldn't harm her.

Walking over to what remained of the carcasses, greeting a few of the wolves he passed, Fenrir locked his jaws around the back leg of an elk and tore it off with little resistance. Looking around until he saw his mate, he slowly moved over to her, dropping the meal in front of her. A werewolf always tended to their mate before themselves, and Fenrir would not be the one to break that most sacred sign of love. Before she could refuse or deny, he shifted back to his human form so that there would be no doubt that she understood him.

"Even if you want to go back to life in the wizarding world, you need meat before you go, or their will be consequences brought on by your wolf. As for your earlier question, cooking meat to "well done" kills off at least ninety percent of the enzymes and nutrients that the body needs to developed healthily."

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Hermione jumped in surprise upon hearing a loud thud by her feet. She spun around only to notice a torn, bloody leg from a large, hoofed animal on the floor. Normally her stomach would revolt at the sight and although her mind still did her stomach didn't. She wanted to throw up, feel sick, but her body just wasn't acting like it used to.

She was starting to realise the new Wolf part of her was making itself known more then she thought it was. Looking around she realised it was feeding time. Pups were eating, and males were not only feeding their pups first but they also fed their Mates before themselves. Glancing at Fenrir she noticed he was doing the same thing. He was trying to feed her before himself. Maybe he hadn't rejected her as she thought.

The meat Fenrir had almost cooked, rather sealed, in the den sounded like a far better option now. However she was pretty sure if she refused him twice, even to go back to the first option, she'd be crossing a line she couldn't come back from.

Hermione knelt down on the ground doing her best not to let her brain get the better of her and cause her to throw up. She wasn't sure what she was looking for as she reluctantly ran her fingertips ever so lightly over the fur covered leg. A place without fat as she really drew the line at having to try and chew through the fatty pieces of meat. She took out her wand and hesitantly used it to cut out a random piece of meat from the leg. It was a small piece and she found herself having to hide a cringe as she hesitantly grabbed the piece of meat from the air.

Clenching her eyes shut tightly she forced herself to quickly shove the raw piece of meat into her mouth. Her brain and muscle memory wanted to gag, to spit it out and throw up before washing her mouth out with water. However she forced herself to chew and swallow the piece of meat. Like medicine Hermione was pretty sure she could only force herself to do that once every meal time: breakfast, lunch, and tea.

"I don't want to be a spoiled brat but please tell me there is something else I can eat. Bread maybe?"

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Fenrir slowly nodded as he stood up and moved closer to Hermione, tentatively wrapping an arm around her waist. He didn't want to upset her, but at the same time he wanted her to know that he wasn't going to push her away.

"Of course. We always keep food around for newly changed wolves. Not bread, but fruit, nuts and the like. The meat won't be so bad after you first change though."

He explained, nodding towards one if the buildings within the trees. He just wanted to make her comfortable; that's what she needed in such a new environment.

---

"Hmm . . . think we've left them alone long enough?"

Lupo asked his wife, gently nuzzling her neck. It may not have been the best idea to leave them to themselves – they could be snapping at each other's throats by now – but Fenrir needed to deal with his problems himself. Besides, Lupo would always takr any time with his mate that he could get.

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Hermione tensed as she felt the unfamiliar touch of Fenrir's arm around her waist. It wasn't that she didn't like it. It was that she'd never felt him do it before - not even in her childhood. After all she had been so young she hadn't even reached his waist yet back then. She didn't move away from Fenrir but she did find it hard to tell herself (and her body) to relax.

Taking a deep breath through her nose, Hermione walked alongside Fenrir towards one of the buildings in the trees. Hopefully there would be something for her to eat in there.

----------------------------------

Iva hummed happily, tilting her head to give her Mate better access.

"Lets give them a little bit more time together. I'm having too much fun."

She replied playfully, nipping Lupo's neck before running up the stairs giggling all the way.

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Fenrir smiled softly as Hermione walked along beside him. She was still tense, but it was a start, at least. He could move slowly, for his mate. Moving towards the building with the extra food, he led Hermione into a hollowed out redwood tree. Within it was a stairway up to the buildings in the trees.

"Be careful, these stairs are best suited for wolves."

He murmured, carefully leading her up the stairwell, keeping his arm around her waist to make sure she wouldn't fall.

---

"Whatever you say, dearest."

Lupo chuckled, shifting to a wolf as he ran after her up the stairs.

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Hermione froze at the bottom of the steps. Looking up she noticed they went all the way up the extremely high tree, and whilst normally she would be fine up stairs - Hogwarts proved this - it was different now. In buildings there was solid walls and floors made of concrete, stone, reinforced with magic among other things. In this tree there was just wood, and wood broke rather easily. Far too easily for her comfort.

"Um, I can wait here. You go on ahead."

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As Hermione spoke, Fenrir couldn't help but frown. Did she not trust him enough to get her up and down the tree safely?

'This is all new to her, be patient!'

He reminded himself. It would all take time. After all, it had taken Iva some time to get used to being in a wolf pack, and she was much older than Hermione was now when she had first joined the pack. He just had to be patient.

"Alright sweetheart, I'll be right back."

He promised, gently nuzzling her hairline before he shifted into a wolf once more and bounded up the stairs.

If there was one disadvantage to leaving Hermione downstairs, it was that he'd no clue what she would and would not eat. What was it that she'd always eat when he was a teenager? Besides the sugarcane the adults sometimes brought back. Gathering up a few kinds of fruit and a few pawfuls of various nuts that should hold her over until she could get a proper meal, Fenrir carefully nudged them onto a large, wide leaf, grabbing the two ends in his jaws so he could carry it. This accomplished, he began the descent downstairs, much more leisurely than the trip up had been.

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Hermione felt... odd without Fenrir by her side or within her line of vision. Inside was a maelstrom of conflict and turmoil, however this was barely felt as it was starting to be smothered by her newly acquired Werewolf instincts. She could feel her senses sharpen, her skin felt too restrictive, and the oddest yet most intoxicating scent was making itself known. What was it? Considering she could smell the scent go up the stairs of the tree she had a bad feeling she knew exactly what or who it was - Fenrir Greyback.

Her gaze snapped up as she heard Fenrir's return. The sight of the half man half wolf form both sent fear and something she refused, still, to label as attraction through her. She knew then and there this territory, this Pack, was her new home. She would not escape it. Her parents didn't know she was here and if they did find out she had a feeling they wouldn't be able to do anything anyway. Her grandmother clearly wasn't going to help her out of here and besides, even if she did have help Hermione wasn't so sure she would want to leave anyway, not completely as she had done before Fenrir had bitten her, and if she did leave she knew she'd probably end up returning anyway. She was tied to this place now and nothing was going to change that.

At least, for now, she had the Alpha working his hardest to make sure she wanted to stay here. It meant less rules for her for now. She knew this wouldn't last and that if she pushed too much or went too far he would lay down the law (he was the Alpha after all!) but at least she had a bit of leeway at the moment.

Right now though she just hoped he wasn't drooling and if he was that none of the saliva had gone onto the food that was being carried in that leaf.

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Fenrir set the bundle of food down in front of Hermione, stepping back and returning to his human form. "This is all we have beside raw meat, and the concoction in my den," he explained. "It's some fruit and nuts, pretty much what you had all those years ago when you visited the pack."

He still had a few hazy memories about her time within the pack, but they were still just hazy memories. Nothing clear had showed up yet, after so many years of suppressing the..

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Hermione watched the large half wolf half man bound back down the stairs. Stairs without banisters made of wood. Carved out of a tree. She didn't know how he did it.

Glancing at the food Fenrir had brought she briefly noted it wasn't anything like the variety she used to have at Hogwarts, or anything like the stock in her own cupboards (some of which she knew would go off should she end up staying here). Still, she knew better then to reject any of it and so she sat down beside the food before picking up an apple. She sat and ate it quietly, not entirely sure where to go from here or what to do.

Hermione always worked best with a plan but how did someone plan an entirely new future where the infamous (whom may be innocent of some of the crimes he is known for) Werewolf, Fenrir Greyback, is now your Mate? If only there was a book called 'Being a Werewolf's Mate & Planning For The Future for Dummies'.

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