Thank you for all the reviews, alerts and favourite's to chapter 3 :-)

- This is just a little insight to Fenrir's mind...

Chapter Four

As Fenrir came out of the Apparation and stepped forward, all eyes fell upon the girl in his arms. He glared imperiously at every member of his pack and stormed into his chambers without a word.

"Out, all of you!" he roared at the servants waiting there. "Leave us, and do not return unless I call for you.."

Hermione stirred in his arms, and he winced. Perhaps he should not have been quite so forceful, he thought regretfully. He had not wanted to disturb her.

Luckily, the girl did not wake, for he was unsure how she would react to him and her new surroundings when she did. After all, she was far, far away from her old home, in an unknown part of the Scottish countryside which had been built into the hills by his ancestors. The ancient dwelling of his kind was peaceful—away from any scrutiny from judgmental Muggles or Wizards alike.

All Hermione would need to do was take one look at the cold stone walls to realize how much different this place was from any she had ever known. He wanted to have her tucked inside the warm cocoon of the king-sized, fur-heavy wooden bed which was encased inside curtains before her eyes fluttered open.

Once he'd laid her down the first thing Fenrir did was pull off that horrible Wizarding robe and threw the offensive material onto the cold, hard stone floor. The thing had done nothing for her figure, apparently. Fenrir happily took in every delectable curve of his new mate's body, his fingers itching to explore. But he did not wish to indulge himself while she was not awake, for he wished to see her reactions to his touch.

After about an hour of staring, Fenrir could no longer ignore the cravings of closeness, and allowed himself to lay beside her on his bed—their bed, he should say. Yes, this was now their bed, he thought as he forced himself to keep his more animalistic urges in check. He breathed evenly, forcing himself to calmly process the events of the day. One hand idly stroked Hermione's shoulder as seconds turned to minutes, and minutes turned to hours. Finally, he curled up to his mate and folded her into a protective embrace.

"Mine," he whispered into her hair, smiling to himself.

Fenrir hated the fact that Hermione was not a werewolf. He was supposed to mate with a wolf, much like a pureblood Wizard was expected to mate with one of his own kind. True, he had turned many people to werewolves himself, but he had been born a wolf, and he was proud of it. Those he had turned had either been employed by that old snakeface, Voldemort, or they'd been trespassing in realms where they did not belong. In other words, he'd considered them nothing more than inconvenient—they were not truly of his kind.

He took only the best of them into his pack, giving them as mates to those he desired to reward. These creatures were considered as little more than slaves—including that arrogant Wizard, Severus Snape. He still could not understand his beta's fascination with that particular individual, though he enjoyed the fact that Snape's placement with him truly seemed to rankle.

The loyalties of that Wizard were constantly under question, of course. He seemed to serve three masters all at the same time. Voldemort, of course, was his first lord, and certainly a Wizard to be reckoned with. And then, when he'd become a member of Fenrir's pack he was forced to profess his loyalty to him. But Fenrir would be foolish, indeed, not to see how loyal he was to Albus Dumbledore as well. A man with so many masters definitely beared watching.

Fenrir liked to think of himself as a fair leader—a king among the wolves. He tried to do right by every person whose life was pledged to him, and Hermione would be no exception despite what the meddling Wizards liked to believe. In fact, as his mate, she would be treated like a queen.

Of course, he could not blame people for thinking so lowly of him. In the outside world, he disguised himself as an unkempt, homeless man, so no one could guess at his true nature. The façade was something he'd dreamed up in his younger years, and it had changed over the centuries to match the current times. Even the Wizards did not realize the truth, for among them he pretended to be a sixty-seven year old wolf bent only on doing the Dark Lord's bidding. They would never guess at his true nature.

At least, that was what his life had been up until now. But, if the prophecy held true, all of that was about to change. Because of the woman he now held in his arms, his efforts at secrecy might soon come to nothing. For her, he would willingly shed every façade, so that she would not be repulsed by them. He would show her his true self, the self he had not even shown himself in quite some time.

With a conscious effort, Fenrir changed his features now, so that when she awakened he would not frighten her away. The last thing he wanted was for Hermione to run screaming from his bed in absolute terror—though of course it was very possible she'd do it no matter what he looked like at the time.

This thought both amused and concerned him. He remembered how he'd willed her to come to him, and she had done just that. This was partly due to the mating call he knew she must answer, but he liked to think she'd come of her own accord as he'd held her gaze with his.

He was going to have to make some changes around here to accommodate his woman, Fenrir knew. The women would need to be more decently clothed to cater to her likely sensibilities. The males would also need to cover themselves as well, and behave with more civility, at least in her presence.

And the mating ceremony needed to be sorted out. Including Hermione's change—that was one topic that would make for an interesting conversation. He doubted her reaction to the thought of being changed to a werewolf would be favorable.

Yes, that was something he'd need to get out of the way first. Perhaps even as soon as she awakened. He considered momentarily the thought of biting her now, eliminating the possibility of her refusal entirely, but he knew that he would not. He wanted to see the reaction in her eyes.

- Uh oh. Hermione's in for a shocker lol.