Instincts

Unreal Utterances

Hermione bit back the scream that had tried to escape her throat when she felt an unknown hand on her shoulder. Not stopping to think, she flung herself away from the light pressure, scrambling toward the wall. Her breath was rapid and her heart pounded in her chest as she sat huddled in the corner. Her gazes darted upwards; up at the werewolf who was the cause of her terror.

Come on, Granger, you were a Gryffindor for a reason. Trembling, she determinedly met Greyback's amber eyes and immediately began to regret it. She forced her shaky muscles to stand as she struggled to match her captor's gaze. There was something in his eyes; something that caused shivers to run down her spine.

Hunger; hunger and barely concealed rage hovered behind his eyes. She was no more than a snack, saved only to be devoured when convenient. She felt sick at the thought; she was not even worth interrogating. What would a muggleborn know that would be useful to anyone? The useless Mudblood, fit only for the wolves. She clenched her fists as the werewolf stalked toward her; she was not going to go down without a fight. She struck out at him only to have her blow stopped by a strong hand. Before she could react, he had pinned both of her arms against the wall. She struggled against his grip, but he did not seem fazed by it. The grin that spread across his face at her pathetic efforts to remove him infuriated her. I am not useless, Hermione screamed to herself, but the werewolf's iron grip seemed to refute everything she was telling herself.

Hermione stiffened as the man closed his eyes as inhaled. She could only guess why. How dare he eat me! She knew of the tales of Greyback's savagery, and refused to be a snack to the wolf's insatiable appetite. She brought her knee up hard, but all she managed to hit was his thigh. His grin was gone, replaced by a bored stare. She could not escape this; she could never hope to break through the barrier of his limbs.

Hermione tried to steady her voice as she spoke, "Didn't you ever learn not to play with your food?" She hoped talking would give her some time to devise a plan that did not involve brute strength; he would win that battle every time.

The wolf's deep voice rang out huskily in reply, "I was never very good at following that particular rule."

Hermione shivered at the sound of his voice. It reminded her of a growl; a horrible, menacing growl.

"Please," she said, hardly believing the plea that was escaping her mouth. "Please make it quick."

The werewolf loosened his hold on her slightly and met her tear-filled eyes. Hermione held her head up high, trying to preserve whatever dignity she had left, but hot tears ran down her cheeks, revealing her fear.

"I will make no promises," he said. "However, I am not going to kill you."

Hermione frowned, biting her lip she replied, "You aren't going to eat me? Isn't that what he orders you to do? Kill insignificant mudbloods like me?"

A fierce snarl ripped out of the werewolf's throat. Hermione jumped and continued to cry. The sound was terrifying. Her body seemed to seize up of its own accord as the sound reached her ears.

"No one gives me orders, girl. Blood does not matter; we are all wolves," he sounded offended at her accusations.

Hermione's eyes widened in panic. "No. Please. I don't want to be a werewolf."

"Oh, you will." His grin had returned; his abnormally large canine's shone in the soft light.

She turned her nose up at the thought. "Never. I would not wish this curse on anyone."

A soft laugh rumbled through the werewolf's chest. "You will feel differently very soon," he threatened, lowering his sharp teeth towards her.

She struggled to get free as his mouth came dangerously close to her neck.