the tower/fire ; mary/fenrir, 19 august 1978
It was rare that Mary allowed herself to be put in a position where an invitation to a social situation could b extended, rarer still that she would go on to accept that invitation. But when the mention of a get-together amongst the Order had been brought up, Mary had found herself placed in a position where she couldnât really say no without seeming rude, or like she didnât care for the people involved.Â
It was for this reason that Mary had found herself spending her Saturday evening sat in a booth at a local muggle pub, sipping on a glass of vodka and orange juice as everyone around her chattered and joked, sharing stories of their pasts and generally making Mary feel a lot more glad that she had bothered to show up to begin with. Where at first she had walked into the pub and honestly considered simply walking back out again before she could be noticed, after sitting with the group for ten minutes or so Mary decidedly never wanted to leave, finding herself to be far too at ease in the company of people who - for the most part - she hadnât really held a proper conversation with before. For Mary, being a part of the Order had always been something she viewed more to be a chore than anything else, and as a result she had always struggled to form relations with those members of the Order she hadnât already been friends with. But sat in the pub, surrounded by people who she would normally voluntarily shy away from, Mary couldnât help but wonder why she hadnât made the effort sooner, when being included made her feel so ridiculously good.
As it became time for them to leave and return to their own homes, Mary almost wanted to make her fellow Order members stay, though being too shy to do so she had simply kept quiet, instead just following the others out of the pub, always a few steps behind as they walked down the path and began to go their separate ways.Â
What Mary certainly hadnât expected, was for someone behind her to grab her roughly by the arm, preventing her from being able to continue on with the rest of the group, staring her in such a way that - quite frankly - Mary found herself to be intimidated into a state of submission, too shocked, and fearful to actually ask the substantially elder man what he was doing, or to even call for the others to help.
And then, it all became too late, and before Mary could even gather he thoughts enough to take control over the situation, the other male had apparated away with his hand still wrapped around her arm, and Mary froze up. Losing control over her limbs for a moment, the dizziness that came with apparition, plus the added bonus of being shoved the moment her feet touched the ground, Mary soon found herself sprawled across the ground, entire body holding the faintest of trembles as she stared up at her captor, her fear undeniably clear as for a moment, she found herself to be entirely lost for words.
âM-Mary. Iâm M-Mary M-Macdonald.â The thought of offering up a fake name, or to return his question before even thinking to give her own name, never really occurred to the young girl. Fear was all she knew now, and if answering his questions as honestly and as helpfully as possible would keep her alive, then she would do it.Â
âWhat do you want with me?â
That dogs could smell fear was not a rumor, this was a proven fact, and Fenrirâs next inhale filled his nostrils with the scent. Fear itself was not its own odor, no, it manifested in the sharp smell of sweat as it broke out along hairlines, in between valleys and crevices of skin. Breaths that quickened filled the space with carbon dioxide, warmth from her lungs and scented with the taste of her tongue. His sense of smell was unusually high just after a full moon. It was all part of the aftermath, and sometimes it gave him and his wolves headaches. Perhaps it was for this reason his men had been seeking out that little snake of Voldemortâs, that Lestrange boy. His eyes narrowed, twin amber slits below the hanging fluorescent lights that swayed gently still from their sudden and violent arrival. Dust hung heavily in the air, stirred by their entrance and he never let his gaze falter from the girl heâd so unceremoniously taken captive. His lip curled, suddenly aware of the risk heâd taken. It would be in his best interest to interrogate her before bringing her before the Dark Lord, find out if she was useful or not before sticking his neck out.
âMary Macdonald,â he growled, taking several steps forward toward her before drawing up short. âWho are you?â It was a heavy question, implicitly meaning, who are you and what are you worth to me? Fenrir knelt down, his arms bent and resting atop his knees, wrists cocked and hands brushing between them. He tilted his head. She looked so afraid. So afraid. Part of him was pleased for this- there was no power without fear. One side required it. There was always an inkling of fear in those that were the weaker beings. In any relationship there was a dominant presence and a lesser one. An alpha and a beta, so to speak. The wolf exuded such power at all times that he did not have to worry about fear. Even in the presence of Lord Voldemort he was not afraid. Their relationship was nothing more than a business transaction. A free pass, one would say, to run off leash through the streets of London without fear of consequence. This girl was like the others. She would not harm him- could not. However, just in case-- âExpelliarmus!â he said, the command breathy and low, the tone of it conveying his intrigue with his captive. The wood of her wand hit the palm of his open hand and his smile curled ever more at the corners.
She was pretty, for as young as she was. Wide, round eyes, a pointed chin and shapely jaw. Full lips- the hair, well, that was a shame. The wolf reached out slowly, a single digit extending until he caught the underside of her chin, tilting her face upward to better meet his gaze. He could feel her trembling, and it was exhilarating, knowing that that was for him. That he was the ultimate cause of that fear, wholly and truly.
âI need yâ to tell me everything yâ know abouâ the Order of the Phoenix, Mary Macdonald.â













