A/N: Dark Fenmione. Was originally only a drabble on Tumblr and AO3, but a new chapter presented itself recently, so here I am, sharing it with all of you on this site, too.
Warning: Dub-Con. Violence.
"Is that supposed to impress me?" Fenrir Greyback rumbled from the shadows when Hermione rose slowly to her feet from the tangled mess upon the mattress, her wand in one hand and a knife in the other, her eyes scanning the darkness for the source of the distubance that had awoken her.
A chill spider-walked down her spine at the sound of his voice when she couldn't see him in the dark of the bedroom. Fear fisted in her gut when she recognized his voice and pinpointed his identity.
"How did you get in here?" she asked quietly, her voice husky from sleep as she worked to keep him from hearing the fear festering in her heart.
"The doggie-door," he answered sarcastically and Hermione closed her eyes, shaking her head to herself and adjusting her grip on the knife.
"I don't have a doggie-door," Hermione answered.
"You do now," he replied.
"You mutilated my door?" she asked, trying to pinpoint where he was and keep him talking. She was sure he was at his deadliest when he was silent.
"Mmm," he hummed in the affirmative, and Hermione's hair stood on end when she realised that while she'd had her eyes closed, he'd snuck around to be right behind her. "Now imagine what I'm gonig to do to you, girly."
Hermione spun on him, her arm swinging wide, the knife she clutched flashing in the moonlight glinting through the closed window. He blocked her easily, and her uttered curse blasted him in the chest, full force, slamming him back and forcing him to his back on the bed. She squealed in surprise when he caught her wrist and pulled her down with him. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her body already squirming as the rangy werewolf scent of him hit her nose while she flailed atop him.
As soon as he got hold of her, his strong hand on her wrist snapped it back and forth until she lost her knife, and the other went for her wand-hand, ridding her of that weapon too. Hermione knew that the minute he got her on her back, she'd be done for, and so she fought him with everything she had, digging deep for every skerrick of power within her. She bit him, flailed her arms, tried to scratch him, brought her knees up to kick him; everything she could think of.
It did her no good.
The breath rushed from her lungs when he flipped her off him with ease, pinning her on her back beneath him against the mattress. His face swam into view and his eyes gleamed, predatory and feral as he stared down at her hungrily. She could feel the evidence of his arousal digging into her right thigh and Hermione's stomach flipped with terror, her heart liable to crack her ribs in her chest as it spasmed with fear. But she hadn't been put into Gryffindor for nothing.
Looking him dead in the eye, Hermione nodded down their bodies toward that monster drilling into her leg and growled, "Is that supposed to impress me?"