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HP Story

snarl
Title: Untitled as of now
Chapter: I
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairings: N/A at this moment
Words: 2,713
WARNING: Graphic, violent, rape, abuse, and probably other things.
Summary/Author's Notes: It's been nice; no sudden deaths, no attacks from rouge Death Eaters. Just peaceful and quiet...perhaps too quiet. Hermione Granger is a leading researcher in the field of Magical Animals; different from Magical Creatures. Remembering Remus, Hermione decides to major in magical wolves. Trouble is they haven't been seen in decades or interacted with the general populace in hundreds of years for fear of being mistaken for werewolves. With a trusty dog at her side guarding her research cabin against hungry invaders, nothing could go wrong, right? Hasn't really been looked through in a while. This was an idea that popped into my mind after seeing a picture randomly google browsing one day. Uu~mm...yeah...




Hermione screamed, even though she knew that nobody would hear her. It hurt so much; she wondered how Remus had ever survived it. Then again, she wondered if there were any females of what she now was. She knew she should have taken her dog, hell, anyone, with her, but she had been confidant in her abilities, and the werewolf packs weren’t scheduled to migrate through this area for another week or two at the least. They had arrived when Hermione was doing a routine checkup on the indigenous magical animals and flora of southeastern Britain; primarily in the Felthorpe-Horsford area. She didn’t know what she had done, but one minute she was returning to her research cabin and the next she saw wolves pacing her. She hadn’t thought anything of it until they had surrounded her and two started posturing, rather aggressively, at her. Fingering her wand, she had tried to leave without causing a stir, but the two wolves had practically jumped on her.

She fought then, wand out. She shot spells out, not really grasping the fact that it was a night of the full moon. She just assumed they were magical wolves and she had infringed on their territory; not much was known about magical wolves, different from werewolves, so this very well could have offended them into hostility. But when she noticed their very focused eyes, with very human intelligence behind them, it was then her mind noticed the very full moon in the sky. “Werewolves,” Hermione breathed, wide-eyed. It was at this realization that the rest of the wolves attacked. Hermione fought valiantly, killing many of what most consider dark creatures, for these animals were no Remus Lupin, but was eventually over come by sheer numbers. She wasn’t bit right away, which perplexed her. It wasn’t until one very large wolf distinguished itself from the rest. It had to be the alpha, for when others tried to bite her, it viciously fought them off.

With the aid of the pack restraining her, the big black and silver alpha dragged her into the woods, where the moon didn’t directly reach. His amber-yellow eyes watched her every move as she struggled in their grasp; not submitting. She never saw the big alpha pounce, effectively pinning her to the ground, making the witch lose her breath.

“We’ve been watching you for quite some time now,” He growled at her in a breathy whisper. “Months; almost since you got here. The local wolves were worried you were hunting them.”

“Huh?” Hermione breathed out, trying to figure out what the wolf was insinuating. She looked around and noticed that not all the wolves had the amber-yellow eyes of a werewolf. Some had crystal blue, emerald green and vibrant purple; magical wolves. Did werewolves run with them, or was it the other way around? How did they use or utilize their magic? Her thirst for knowledge and love of puzzles barraged her mind with questions. She had almost forgotten about her predicament until the large alpha laughed a deep, barking laugh; effectively startling Hermione out of her ponderous thoughts. He cocked his head in amusement.

“You’re different, human,” he informed her. “What’s your name?”

Gulping, the Griffindor replied, “Hermione; Hermione Granger.”

“Interesting name,” the alpha replied. “I’m Oleander Drakonis; Alpha of this Southern pack.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Oleander,” Hermione replied, though why she would utilize manners and pleasantries in such a situation was beyond her. Maybe it was part of her nature; the Sorting Hat had, after all, put her in Griffindor.

Oleander laughed again, loud and raucous. “Please call me Lander; I have no idea what my parents were thinking when they named me. You are most interesting for a human. Usually, the females have reached the point past screaming where they cry and beg yet you…you took a different rout.” His macabre smile showed pearly white fangs. “You see, over the course of our conversation, I seem to have taken a liking to you.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. If it was possible, Oleander’s smile broadened. “You’re wits are sharp and you have a cool head in dire, dangerous situations. Rartz!”

“Rartz?” Hermione questioned. A tawney wolf stepped daintily forward. All her paws were white as if she wore socks.

“We named her Rartz because her eyes are pink like rose quartz,” Lander explained. “She’s quite adept with her magic; the other wolves follow her.” Hermione watched as the wolf, Rartz, stepped in front of Lander and seemed to bow. Hermione now saw what the alpha meant; Rartz had amazing pink eyes that glittered in the dim light. She watched as Lander growled something to the wolf and Hermione felt the hands that had been holding her down loosen. Tentatively, the Griffindor sat up rubbing at her sore arms.

“Better?” Lander asked.

Hermione warily watched the wolf. He was planning something. His laugh was Hermione’s only warning before he pounced on her; her movements no match for the predator above her.

“If you hadn’t noticed, I stand before you alone,” Lander spoke to her.

“I noticed,” Hermione replied.

“It isn’t quite the time of year, but I heard that if the conditions are right, you can get them when they’re turned.”

What was Lander getting at? Hermione was missing something very important. It was a full moon, yes, but why was that niggling at the back of her…

“I know you go out on the full moon, Hermione,” Harry had told her, “but don’t go out on the next one; on the Lunar Calendar, it’s the wolf moon, but on the solar calendar, it’s-“

“A blue moon,” she whispered, now, more than ever, wishing she had listened to Harry’s warning.

“Clever girl,” Lander replied. He yelped when a cutting curse blasted along his ribs, the angle he had Hermione’s arm pinned at not allowing for a more life threatening blow. Lander snarled and retreated; Hermione jumped to her feet, wand at the ready. Lander snarled something and the air was suddenly full of crude spells. Hermione threw up a shield and threw some of her own stunners and spells back at the wolves casting at her. It was a black wolf with purple eyes that made it past her defense, grabbing her wand arm in his mouth and applying enough pressure that Hermione thought he was going to break it.

“Well done, Jet,” Lander praised. Jet wagged his tail in a rather puppy-like manner. He couldn’t be a very old wolf. Yellow-amber eyes focused on Hermione. “You will be mine.”

It was quick and vicious. With some signal that Lander gave, the wolves converged on Hermione; nails and teeth ripping at her clothes until all she wore were rags. Some of the more eager participants had drawn blood, but she couldn’t feel the burning that would signify the lycanthropic infection. Jet still clung to her arm, blood staining his teeth pink and matting the fur around his muzzle. Lander rammed into her legs, causing her to sprawl on her hands and knees. Again, she found the sensation of jaws and hands holding her in place. Again she struggled and found the grips were vice-like.

She looked up to come face to face with Lander. “You will be mine,” he repeated.

Hermione knew many facets about wildlife, regular and magical, and magical creatures. One thing that she hadn’t looked up was mating habits of specific animals. Yes, she knew that werewolves passed down their traits by biting, but she didn’t know anything about the urges of their animal halves. In all animals there was the drive to reproduce. She wondered if the Blue Moon had anything to do with the odd way that the werewolves were behaving. If she survived this encounter, she was going to look up Remus and have a long chat with her old professor.

It was during these rapid fire thoughts that a breeze blew and brought a mortifying realization upon Hermione: she was naked, or close enough to it, and Lander was no longer in front of her.

Something soft and warm licked up her leg, startling a yelp out of her. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Making you mine,” was Lander’s growled reply before the licking resumed. After that, it was a constant, continuous thing; Lander licking her. He began on her right leg and licked from her knee all the way up to her hip. When he repeated the process on her left leg, she couldn’t hold back the small moan that managed to escape her. A cold nose between her legs startled another yelp out of her. When had she gotten so warm?

A startled yelp that ended in a whine tore itself from her when the tongue that had been licking her legs licked between them. She was going to demand Lander stop his ministrations when that tongue flicked out and licked her again, causing a strangled gasp to leave her mouth instead of the question. The cold nose was back, nosing her legs wider apart before soft fur slid between them. She thought she heard something about hands before that warm, soft tongue was licking her breasts.

“Hn!” Hermione gasped out as Lander’s tongue licked her breast again. He rubbed his head against it, the soft fur making it peak uncomfortably hard, before his wonderful tongue lapped at it again.

“Ah!” She cried out against her will. She knew the situation was going from bad to worse, but Lander was doing things to her body that felt so good. When he started to repeat his performance on her other breast, he wedged his tail between her legs and started wagging it. Between the friction from his tail and Lander suckling her breast, Hermione came with a strangled cry; her sex clamping on the alpha’s tail.

Hermione panted for air, her body shivering. Lander crawled out from under her and started licking at her neck and jaw line. It was all Hermione could do to string together coherent thought. She nearly recoiled from shock, if one of those invisible hands wasn’t holding her head in place, when Lander’s lupine tongue started caressing her own. Soon enough, Lander left her to gasp sweet, sweet air as he let her field of vision again.

“You’ve made a mess of yourself,” Lander exclaimed with a chuckle. Her question turned into a moan when he lapped something off the inside of her thighs.

“Nnngh!”

“You will be mine,” Lander said darkly as he slashed her down her back. Her moan turned into a scream as her flesh was rent. She screamed again when the tongue that was so soft careful left burning fire across her back with each stroke.

“Please! Stop!” Hermione begged as her veins filled with fire. She didn’t know if he was just licking her with his saliva, or if he had bit his tongue before bathing the wound he had created. Either way, she felt the lycanthropy burn through her system, changing the very fibre of her being. She fought against it, and somehow, managed to come to some kind of accord with it as the burning lessened but was still present. Her body was still on fire when she felt that cold nose between her thighs once more. Again, that soft tongue darted out, tasting her, preparing her, driving her crazy. Instincts she didn’t know she had came to bear as she began snarling and growling.

“Behave, bitch,” Lander snarled at her after a particularly long stroke that did wonders for sending one to amazing heights. She snarled at him for it.

It was jarring, unexpected and quite sudden. Lander’s jaws clamped down on Hermione’s shoulder, eliciting a yelp from the changed human. The wolf’s thick cock slamming into her drove another yelp from her. She barely had time to breath before the wolf pulled out and slammed into her again and again, Hermione yelping and snarling. The yelps soon turned into pleasurable growls as her mind and humanity retreated and was replaced, thrust by thrust, with instincts that became more and more animalistic; instincts that seemed normal.

Soon, she was growling in pleasure and thrusting back on Lander’s thrusts, trying to get more friction from the ordeal. The alpha wolf growled, clamping down harder on her neck, gripping her sides harder, and thrust faster. She couldn’t have been more pleased. She felt something coiling like a snake in her stomach, and she began squirming faster. She needed it. It was a needed release from the building pressure that was driving her crazy. She howled when her orgasm crested and took over, clamping impossibly tight on the thick cock still thrusting into her that seemed to get thicker, and thicker, making her shudder all the more violently. Lander gave a few, final jerky thrusts before his cock knotted in Hermione and shot her sex full of his semen.

Hermione was panting, desperate for air, as Lander’s tail brushed next to her leg; both waiting for his knot to loosen. She was still being held in place by the wolves’ wild magic, and she absently thought that she could smell it the magic was so heavy in the area. A warm tongue was suddenly at her shoulder and Hermione felt the stirrings of heat once again in her loins. Again, she growled and snarled at an equally growling and snarling Lander. Her soft skin was no protection against the large wolf’s dewclaws as he roughly grabbed her sides and mounted her again. How did his penis get so big again so fast?

Her thoughts soon scattered again as instincts took over. He thrust into her and she thrust back onto him. Their rhythm had a primeval air about it; the sacrificial virgin. He bit her again, but the pleasure that she was getting from him, and the pain that she was already experiencing from his dewclaws, buffered her greatly against the burning itch that resonated from her back and shoulder as, once again, he lapped at her wounds. She didn’t care; she was getting oh so close! Her movements were frantic and jerky. It was sudden and just as vicious as the unforgiving ocean; her orgasm exploding and pounding into her senses. Her articulation of the feeling was an exultant shout that sounded more like a barked howl. Lander thrust into her wet, quivering center before his knot overtook him and he released his seed, again, into Hermione.

It was during this time that the breeze picked up and moved the branches in the canopy, revealing the forest floor to the moonlight from the heavens.

Hermione choked.

Whatever she had been about to do or say, she wouldn’t be able to remember later, was cut off as her body sang. The change that she remembered her teacher undergoing in her Third Year that looked so painful, wasn’t. She felt like she melted; bones elongating and shortening, fur sprouting and covering her. She fell forward as her knees shifted—ankles rising—and caught herself on her hands, now paws. When the shift was complete, she shook out her fur. She still felt too warm. Her gaze sought out Lander and he looked immensely pleased with himself. She growled and attacked.

For not being a wolf very long, she put up a rather good fight, or so Lander complimented her on later. Instead, he pinned her down and thrust into her again; the feeling so much different than when she was human: tighter, wetter, and hotter if it was possible. The sensations she received were so much so that she couldn’t even give voice to them as Lander pounded into her; his snarls and growls of pleasure echoing in the forest. She didn’t orgasm, didn’t know if wolves could, but the feeling of Lander’s knot in her as he came more than made up for it.



Rartz, and the other magical wolves, were restless, and it was affecting them. They played chase and tag, running throughout the forest. The pack hunted and brought down a few deer, much to the jubilation and delight of all; the whole thing reminding Hermione of some pagan festival.

They coupled again several times before Hermione fell asleep; beyond exhausted. Her dreams were haunted by the moon and deep, barking laughter.





This cruel, uncaring, callous world may betray you all one day, but here's one thing to keep in mind should disaster come your way;
When made with love and tender care by man or beast or fish or clam, the one delight to always please is freshly made raspberry jam." J:KoB; book 4


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