Fenrir Greyback

mankibble:

Tilden knew he was being goaded, but the awareness didn’t stop the colour from rising in his cheeks. It was a difficult situation, either rising to the obvious bait and get laughed at or decline – and get laughed at. He pursed his lips, glaring across the table at Fenrir. The man was just having a laugh, he knew, but he didn’t appreciate that it was at his expense.

So don’t take it so personally, he told himself. It was easier said than done, of course, but that didn’t mean he ought not at least try. Fenrir seemed like the sort who made fun of anyone and everyone he encountered, so it probably wasn’t personal at all on his part. If Tilden let him get him all angry again, he’d just be giving Fenrir even more to laugh about.

“I know how to swear,” he told Fenrir, offering him his best derisive look. “I’m twenty, not twelve. But I’m not gonna go running my mouth just because you told me to. There are families here!”

He gestured around the room. Evening was still a long time away and during the daylight hours, the Leaky Cauldron played host to all sorts of customers, in particular families out for a day in Diagon Alley. Tilden didn’t much feel like swearing in front of children, at least not intentionally.

“I am sorry for calling you names,” he admitted, before quickly adding, “Not for stepping in, though! But I should have been nicer about it.”

He wasn’t actually convinced that he should have. Or at least, that he wanted to. Fenrir had been a tosser and he’d gotten called out for it. Tilden had been raised to be polite, though, and to do his best not to speak ill of people, so he did feel bad.

Fen rolled his eyes when the boy found a reason not to swear by indicating all of the other people in the room.  Damn but he was kind of adorable in a way-too-sweet kind of way.  

He looked around when the other man gestured to the people around them and then put on an expression of shock as he said, “Why... good Gods there are ain’t there.”  He looked back at Tilden, keeping the shocked expression as he said, “An here you are usin words like chowderhead!”  He shook his head, “For shame lil Calf.  For shame,” he teased.

He winked at the boy to show that he really was just teasing with him.  If he wanted to get him riled up again he’d go about it in a much more determined way.  

But then the boy went and apologized for the tiny little form of an insult that he’d given and Fen just about threw up his hands in surrender.  The boy was just too damned good to be true.  No one was that bloody nice.

Fen’s smile wouldn’t be held back as he watched the boy’s face go through a flurry of emotions when he copped onto the idea that Fen was serious.  He knew his pup didn’t think he could trust him any further than he could throw him (and with as thin and wiry as the boy was, that wouldn’t be far).  He could tell he was trying to find the angle, the loophole.

He didn’t blame him.  The boy didn’t know him.  The boy didn’t realize that he was safer than any individual could be when it came to Fenrir.  He didn’t understand that he’d watched over him and kept him safe his entire life and that all he wanted was for Remus to come to the pack as he should have done all those years ago.

No, he didn’t blame Remus.  He blamed Lyall.  But he’d realized early on that killing his pup’s false parents wouldn’t do him any good.  The resentment and bitterness and hatred would only grow if he did that.  So he just worked on his boy as best he could.  But he would have him…

I don’t… I… what’s in all of this for you, Greyback?  Or do you expect me to believe you’ve suddenly decided to become a charitable man?  I can’t… I can’t think of this right now.

He shook his head as he moved forward, gently placing his hands on his pup’s shoulders and saying, “Then don’t, aye?”  He looked into his eyes and said, “I ain’t goin anawhere P-Remus.  I’ve plenty-a time an I’ll wait as long as I need ta.”  He smirked slightly and shook his head, “Waited all’a these years fer ya ta finally gimme the chance ta have a proper conversation, aye?  Seems fittin’ I wait a lil longer ta show ya the world ya belong in.”

He met the boy’s eyes for a long moment, then finally nodded and said.  “When ya decide yer ready, when ya decide ya wanna come, jus send me an owl.  I’ll get it, an I’ll be there within’ an hour.”

He started to back away, then paused and shifted, cupping the boy’s cheeks and encouraging him gently to look up.  His face became more stern as he said, “An ya should know Remus, ya can call me anatime, for anathing.  If yer in trouble, you call for me an I’ll be there. Always.”

He met the boy’s eyes for a moment longer, then finally released him and turned to walk away.  He paused and then picked up the coat, tossing it back to his pup.  “Put ‘at on fer yer trip home at least aye?  No reason ta catch a chill just cus ya don’t like who ya got it from aye?  Once ya get home ya can trash it,” he shrugged, “No bark off my wand.”  

He nodded and then the huge man twisted and aparated away before his pup could try to throw the coat back to him again.  And he was sure that for the first time, his boy would seek him out soon…  he just knew it.

Fenrir’s hands were a heavy burden on Remus’s shoulders, and he automatically slouched under their weight. His entire being was on alert, but he was too startled to run. Opposing emotions had taken over his head, making it impossible for him to think clearly. For a fraction of a second, he feared Greyback might have drugged him somehow. Was the werewolf really capable of going so far? Remus did not put it past him, but somehow, deep inside, he just knew Fenrir would never do that to him. No, he wanted Remus to join him, but on his own accord. He wanted Remus to accept his pack willingly, with no shortcuts or extortions. Merlin be damned, but the younger werewolf knew he was actually safe with Greyback. And that thought alone was enough to give anyone nightmares.

Oh, Remus knew he was not going anywhere. He never did. Fenrir might did back for a season, a couple of months, not even long enough for Remus to stop looking behind every shadow in search for him. But the older werewolf always returned, prowling right on the periphery of Remus’s life, waiting and waiting. And Remus tried to convince himself all Greyback was waiting for was the chance to finish him off, but it was just a futile attempt he kept doing out of pure habit, because the truth was Fenrir did not want to kill him. How easier that would have made things. Fenrir wanted to possess him. To unleash him. He wanted to set the wolf free.

“An ya should know Remus, ya can call me anatime, for anathing.  If yer in trouble, you call for me an I’ll be there. Always.” 

The man’s hand on his face burned horribly. Remus wanted to recoil even as the other being in him wanted to nuzzle closer, a little puppy happy to be petted and recognized as pack member. Greyback words drummed into his head like a steady hammer: the world ya belong in, the world ya belong in, belong, belong, belong…

Fuck, he was going to be sick.

“Geroff!” he growled taking a step back, stumbling like he was drunk “Go. Just go. And stay the fuck out of my way!”

Something furry hit him in the face, still too dazzled for his reflexes to react on time, and for a moment Remus feared Fenrir had somehow turned into a wolf and was attacking him. But it was only that damn coat. 

“Just fuck off, Greyback!” he shouted loud enough he made his own head hurt. But as he raised his eyes, he realized he was already talking to thin air. Greyback was gone.

Well fuck. He did not know the bastard could apparate.

He was tempted to leave the coat, but he realized that even if he did not want it, there were others who could benefit from having something thick and warm to bundle themselves up during the cold nights. There was a vagabond who showed up near his building to go through the trash every now and then. Remus often felt compelled to look even though his pitiful condition made him feel cold and sick. But he always saw part of himself reflected on those poor fellows’ eyes. That could have been him. If he had not had the loving parents he had. If had never crossed paths with accepting friends like the Marauders.

And, as much as it disgusted him to even think about it…if Fenrir Greyback had not been out there ready to take him if no one else did.

But they did, they did. He had to hold on to that thought. He knew where he belonged.

The question was…did It know too?

FIRST STILL RELEASED FROM ‘AQUAMAN’ MOVIE!

Fen felt his lip split open and tasted blood in his mouth.  He was so shocked that the preening peacock had actually just hit him (something a very precious few were ever stupid enough to do) that for a moment he didn’t even respond, he just stood there, stunned.

And then he heard the snarling growl and cursed as he twisted to grab hold of Creepy Kid before he could launch himself at the blonde and eat his face off.

Creepy continued to snarl in his Alpha’s arms, growling and hissing as he tried to get at the bastard who’d attacked his Alpha and the only Father he cared to remember.  He actually clawed at Fen’s hands trying to get out of his hold and Fen had to twist him around and pull him onto his hip to keep him still.

And then he heard the growling issuing from the sliding glass doors and cursed even more fluently because Gloria, Geoff and Chase were all standing there looking ready to launch themselves forward.  And as much as he appreciated their loyalty, he knew that even if they could take down Malfoy, which was a big if considering the blonde was a wizard even if he was a nancy-boy and he’d eventually remember he had a wand and had a lot more training using it than Fen, he knew that Tom would have each of the pups put down in seconds in retaliation.  

Keeping hold of Creepy with one hand, he held up his free hand to the pups and said, “S’a’right, s’a’right.  Back down.”  He wiped at the blood on his mouth and smirked at Malfoy, “Baby Malfoy’n I were jus havin a… discussion…”

He looked at Lucius and his silver eyes were intense as he growled, “Right mate?” he said, indicating the blonde should calm the fuck down and reassure his pack before they attacked him.

“Right mate?”

Lucius wasn’t stupid. He recognized the tone and statement for the warning it was, he just wasn’t exactly in the right place or frame of mind to be that logical and calm about it. “Fuck no, it’s not a discussion.” He snarled, anger and self-inflated righteousness (not to mention a good dose of hate at being referred to as ‘baby Malfoy’) making him reckless as he leaned forward once again. “I was telling you to get control of your savages or find yourselves staying in the fucking stables.”

That was where the mongrels should have been put to begin with. He couldn’t begin to understand why the Dark Lord even tolerated them. They were a blight—contaminated even. In other words, they were so far from pure it was laughable. He was fairly certain that most (if not all) of the pups were muggles. That meant, to his mind, they were little better than rabid dogs and thus deserving of nothing more than a quick death.

mankibble:

   Walden’s mouth twisted into a thin line as Fenrir made insinuations about the size of his cock. He knew from experience that his cock was of a perfectly reasonable size, what the fuck did this man know anyway? Not that he had any inclination to try and prove the perv wrong, but he wasn’t enjoying how this conversation was going.

For a moment, Walden pondered his options. He could follow this stranger further into the woods and possibly to his own death, or he could turn back to the castle and return to his warm bed.

But then he would spend the rest of his years wondering what he might have missed out on.

After being interrupted in the middle of his earlier kill, his bloodlust hadn’t been very satisfied. There was blood congealing and freezing to the blade still in his hand, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough these days, but he didn’t know any other ways to satisfy his cravings.

Except … maybe if he followed the man. Maybe … maybe tonight could be the night.

A thrill shot through him, one of both fear and excitement. He wasn’t sure what the man had planned exactly, but he wanted to know. Following after him, he kept his ears open as they walked through the woods, keeping his knife firmly in his grasp. It didn’t matter to him if the man’s knife was bigger, Walden knew how to use his and he was prepared for anything.

How wonderful would it be if there was a fight? He would love a chance to get into a proper fight rather than useless squabbles with classmates.

“What could possibly be in the middle of these woods that’s worth my time?” he asked Fenrir, jogging a few steps to catch up, eyeing the man curiously. “And what do you mean by ‘real prey’. Are we hunting centaurs … werewolves?” He supposed those creatures were human enough, not to mention they would be extremely difficult to take down. They were also the only creatures that Walden knew of that lived in these woods.

Well, besides unicorns.

“I’m not killing a unicorn if that’s what you’re planning. I’m not a fucking nutter.” Even Walden had his limits and he had no intentions of cursing himself to a half-life by murdering one of the most untouchable creatures on the planet.

Fen almost paused when the boy asked if they were going to be hunting werewolves.  His eyes flashed and his hand curled into a fist but he reminded himself that the boy didn’t know him and didn’t understand.  He was just a little Pure, didn’t know any better.

Yet... anyway.  Eventually he’d know damned well not to make any comments about Werewolves in Fenrir’s presence.  Not if he wanted to keep his tongue in his head...

A smirk escaped him at the question about Unicorns and he rolled his eyes, “Do I look like I wanna nancy round with some bloody unicorn?  An Centaurs,” he shrugged, “They ain’t so bad.  Keep ta themselves an leave ya alone ta do whut ya want.”

He hit the outside of the anti-apparation wards and finally turned back to the boy, saying, “Na lil Jackal... we’re goin fer prey ‘at’s far more deservin of our time...”

So saying he grabbed the boy by the collar and pulled him closer, twisting in the same instant to apparate away before the nervous little psycho could try and use that knife on him.

When they landed they were on the outskirts of a muggle shire in Northern England.  He quickly twisted the boy’s hand with the knife and slipped it into his pocket before it could be seen, knowing he’d probably be too disoriented from the sudden apparition to fight back, though he was ready for it if he did.  

And then he took in a deep breath of the air around him and purred in approval.  Oh yes.  The best hunting grounds possible.  

Muggles... idiotic, powerless, and unaware of the bogey-men and monsters that roamed so close to their pointless little lives.

Turning back to the boy, he smirked and said, “Now, firs lesson lil Jackal.  Never hunt near yer home.  Ya don’t wanna get tracked back ta yerself now do ya?”  

Nodding, he moved forward.  They were at the edge of another copse of trees on the outskirts of the shire.  There were a few people out, going about their daily business.  He smirked and shook his head.  Cattle...

mankibble:

  “My body doesn’t know shit,” Mary spat back, trying not to jump when his hand cupped her there. She knew she twitched though, her body recoiling from the pressure of his hand and the rocking of his hips. She hated that he kept calling her ‘lil lamb’. It was just another layer to the taunting and kept making her wonder. Did he know here? Was this targeted? Was it personal? Who could hate her this much? And why did she keep drawing the attention of deranged psychopaths?

She winced as she felt his fingers press into her skin, gripping her chin tightly. She couldn’t look away. Watching him with eyes wide, Mary felt the need to try to anticipate his next move, prepare herself for it. Though she was quickly coming to think that would be impossible. She didn’t think like this, couldn’t try to guess what he would do next. It was outside her realm of thinking, of being. She cried out when he bit her cut lip, feeling the blood begin to flow again, the pain catching her by surprise again. “That doesn’t make sense,” she shook her head, trying to retain control. “To convince you of no if you think I’ll enjoy it?” She felt all twisted up inside, and wrong. Her heart was beating fast, and Mary knew she was breathing, though it was almost as if she was trying to catch her breath.

A shiver ran through her when his fingers gently slid down the side of her neck. It was a shiver of revulsion, and fear. He was toying with her and she knew it. She had no control here and she hated it. Mary was usually the game player, the one with the plan. She could coax information out of them in various ways. But it didn’t seem like he was trying to do even that. So she didn’t know what he wanted, and why it had to be here. Because she had been out at that (in)opportune moment? Foolish enough to be brandishing around bravado as if it could protect her? Mary knew she was all kinds of idiot.

She shuddered at the touch of his tongue, feeling her own pulse beating against it. Her hips moved involuntarily—she didn’t even realize it, wasn’t consciously aware of him still rubbing at her, though her body certainly was. Mary could rationalize she was squirming, trying to get away. Not that it was any use. Every movement increased the friction, and her body, hyped up on adrenaline was confusing shock, horror, and fear for lust and excitement. It was betraying her and it felt so good.

A scream tore from Mary’s throat when his fingers entered her and his teeth pierced her skin. Her hands clenched and unclenched into fists as she railed against him, straining to pull them out of his strop grip. But he was too strong and her hands remained pinned above her, bones grinding together painfully. Her mind didn’t know where to focus, which injury to focus on. Her bruised chin? Her still captured wrists? The way her shoulders ached from being held up like that, even as she strained? Her bleeding lip? Her now punctured throat? Or the space between her legs that his fingers were sliding in and out of, the space that should have been more painful physically but was torture mentally?

She tried to move her face away, but his lips caught hers and the whimper that escaped her when another finger pushed inside, stretching her was caught by his mouth. Mary was repulsed by his tongue in her mouth, trying to give her a taste of the blood she could feel sliding down her neck. It was hot and cold at the same time. Angry—at him, at herself—Mary bit down on his tongue, and brought her knee up hard between his legs.

He’d been half expecting her to try to fight back at some point so he was prepared for the knee that came up to try and get him in the crotch and easily moved away from it.  

He wasn’t, however, expecting the bite to his tongue.  He gasped into her mouth, yanking back hard as he felt his own blood fill his mouth for the first time in a very long time.  He was quite accustomed to tasting the blood of others, but his own wasn’t something he’d had in some time...

Unfortunately for Mary... it didn’t deter him in the slightest.  In fact, the fire that it took to attack him, to fight back in any way she could, only made his cock swell that much more.

Twisting, he spat his blood to the floor in a thick wad and turned back to her, silver eyes glowing with desire and lust.  He purred at the sight of her, blood dripping from her lips and writhing beneath his fingers despite herself... and slowly whispered, “Oh yeah m’fiery lil Lamb... yer mine...”

And in the space of seconds he’d twisted and ripped her jeans away from her legs and freed himself as well.  Her pussy was already wet and when he slammed her back into the wall and spread her legs, his cock slipped into her slick heat as though she’d been waiting for him.  

He growled in pleasure and lifted her up so that she was perched against the wall with her legs on either side of his hips and began to thrust into her hard and fast, one hand sliding up to rip away her shirt and expose her breasts to his hungry mouth while the other continued to hold her wrists together.  

Bending down, he bit the underside of her breast, flicking his tongue slowly along the blood and spreading it over her nipple... leaving his mark on her.  Because as he fucked her there like the animal that he was... he had a feeling he wouldn’t be killing this one.  

mankibble:

“Ya ain’t tryin ta get inta me knickers are ya?”

Evan couldn’t help the smirk that molded his long, angular features. That hadn’t been the plan but he couldn’t deny that he was tempted. Fenrir was a beautiful example of man and beast and his ferocity and animalistic power and Evan appreciated both. Not to mention how aroused the man had already managed to make him feel with his earlier attempt to dominate. It wasn’t Evan’s norm, but he could appreciate the role reversal in the right circumstances.

Fenrir ripped another piece of charred flesh away with his teeth, clearly enjoying his impromptu meal and while the very idea of actually eating his victims had no appeal, he couldn’t deny that in that moment the circumstances were almost right.

Moonlight gleamed along the other man’s toned physique. Like gossamer threads of glowing silver, they bathed Fenrir in glowing shadows, emphasizing the beauty of the man while hinting at the monstrosity that was wolf. To Evan, the scene was beautiful and he committed it to memory, fully intending to enjoy the moment later in the privacy of his own home.

Hunkering down once again, want poised on the girl as he began to twine the cruciatus curse along the girl’s shoulder. He’d been working on his ability to control the pain of the forbidden curse. He wanted to wield it like a painter with a brush. He wasn’t some child finger painting. He was an artist, and every sweep of his wand was a brush stroke, some broad and others delicate, but every motion intentional.

Green eyes flickered over her convulsing body, death was near now, and he offered a faint grin that drew dimples into his right cheek. “Not yet.” He taunted. No sense pretending otherwise. Evan had no patience for games like that. His life was complicated enough without adding pointless lies.

The girl whimpered weakly, drawing his attention back to her shuddering form and he pinioned his wand beneath her chin, twisting the cherry wood point into the soft flesh. Although this had been his game, without the big man he’d have been well and truly fucked. He smiled and a flick of his wrist forced her to look at Fenrir. “Pray to your new god pet.” The girl blubbered, grasping at what she thought an unexpected glimpse of hope when really he was just giving her final moment to the wolf. She didn’t understand, but somehow he knew the big man would—they were her gods and like those flippant, self-possessed myths, they didn’t care about her in the slightest.

He had to admit, the amount of control and passion the other wizard wielded over his curses was appealing.  It was like watching a master musician playing a finely tuned instrument.  The slightest movement of his wrist could have the exhausted, blood-soaked girl screaming at decibels she shouldn’t even have been capable of given the amount of trauma her body had already endured.

Oh yes... Rosier was a fellow hunter.  And he was a damned good one at that...

When the girl’s face was suddenly turned toward his, he purred at the deep Pray to your new god pet and looked up into those deep green eyes.  His expression was more than slightly crazed, fully animalistic as he looked at his fellow Death Eater for a long moment, rather than the prey.  And he felt a bond sliding into place that he’d never expected with any of Tom’s little minions. 

This was a game he would repeat with the younger man... and often...

But then the girl began to blubber at him and he let his eyes trail back to her.  He took in the blood that splattered her entire body, took in the pain wracked fear on her face, and drew in the sweet scent of her blood and terror and that tiny, tiny little ball of hope that couldn’t help springing to life when Rosier told her to pray...

Delicious...

“Aw... ‘at’s a good pet...” he purred, caressing a blood-and-gore-soaked-hand along her cheek.  “S’a’right... jus breathe pet... jus breathe....”  He caressed his fingers along her cheek in an utterly tender manner, looking for all the world as though he were merely comforting her...

Then he leaned forward and whispered, “It’ll all be over soon pet...” 

Ducking his head, he caught her lips in a slow, hungry kiss, though his silver eyes remained fixed on Rosier the entire time rather than closing... and seconds later he forced her mouth open, the kiss become increasingly brutal and the girl screaming into his mouth...

Uh… I don’t think anything of them. Some of them are okay, some are not I suppose. Just stay away from them during the full moon and you’ll be okay.

mankibble:

Alecto was permanently dealing with men who didn’t know their place and the half breed wasn’t the exception. She could be a patient woman if she wanted, but even she had her own limits and if Fenrir kept on pushing, she would end up snapping.

She downed her drink, glad that she had an excuse to not return home right now and if she was lucky enough, Master Carrow would be asleep when she returned. Sure, she would’ve prefered another company, but she wasn’t complaining… for now. Hopefully the future distraction would keep his hands of her and she wouldn’t have to act on it. “That sounds good” she agreed, noticing how little he paid and for a moment she actually considered on adding more money.

Why would you even do that, Alecto? Don’t be ridiculous.

“How thoughtful of you, sweetheart” she hummed when he mentioned not wanting to cast any suspicion on her. Her heart began beating a bit faster with excitment as she stood up and flattened her dress first and and fixed her black velvet cloak. She then took her purse and followed him outside. 

There were a few people on the street but not enough to worry her, it was late after all. Without waiting for instructions, she took the lead and started walking to a dark alley with clear view of the pub, that could’ve been used for apparition, but they could wait there until the man came out. “So what now? What’s your plan?”

Unashamedly watching the way her tits shifted in the dress and the way the dress slid along her rather enviable figure, Fen lifted his eyes back up to hers only when she was finished fussing.  He didn’t even bother trying to look abashed, he was who he was.  

Once they were outside, he didn’t protest her taking the lead.  He’d always liked women able to display more than a single thought in their heads.  Once she’d shifted into the darkness, he settled in beside and slightly behind her and then waited calmly.

So what now?  What’s your plan?

Fen smiled, “Simple.  A lil bit’a fluff in there named Ruby’s goin ta… invite ‘im out fer a party soon’s she saw me leave.  She’s one’a Tom’s supporters an don’t mind help’n out every now’n agin.”  His smile was all teeth, “She should have’m out in a matter’a-”

Before Fen could even finish the sentence, Ruby’s musical laugh mirrored the tinkling of the bells of the door as she came out with their prey on her arm.  She was a sexy little thing with big breasts and looping golden curls that were usually mussed from her… work activities.  She was hanging onto the man with her cloak pulled back to show off her physique to best advantage and her eyes shining ‘all for him’.

At least until she came to the alley… where she went in just far enough to be seen before she suddenly slapped him and said she wasn’t that kind of lady and stalked off in a huff… leaving him in the darkness that wasn’t so empty as it seemed.

Fenrir purred in pleasure and stalked forward, growling, “Well well… whut’ve we here?”  He grinned with more than a hint of fang and purred, “Fresh meat…”

[mankibble:]

Greyback’s fixation for him was something Remus could not quite understand. He had been bitten because of an old grudge against her father, and the werewolf had probably expected the child to die afterwards. The truth was it still remained somewhat of a miracle that Remus had survived a bite at such a young age. Still, he had been nothing but collateral damage, Greyback had had no real interest in turning him, let alone keep him, had he?

Despite how blurry his memories when he turned could get, Remus still remembered with surprising detail the night of his very first turn, when It had taken over with a mind a puppy mind as confused as the little boy’s. Fenrir had been there, as a wolf too. It used to think of him as Other Wolf. It had never even met other wolves beside Other Wolf. Greyback had seen the terrified and confused puppy, who just wanted to understand how It could be It but It could also be Remus. It had known that Other Wolf was somehow involved in this mess and It had resented Other Wolf for that. But It had needed guidance. And Greyback did not provide. He left, like a coward, not facing the damage he had caused. And It had understood that the humans might not be Pack, but they would take care of It when It was Remus, and do their best for It when It was It.

Now it was too late to try and rebuilt bridges that had never even existed in first place.

And yet It still yearned in secret for that part which Lyall and Hope, despite their best intentions, could not provide. The equality of a real pack with other wolves like It. Not even the Marauders had been able to quite give It that even though they had become animagi. And It wanted that. It wanted a pack. The puppy of the past still somehow yearned for Other Wolf to be It’s leader, like it should have been.

 Remus rubbed his temple, sensing the starts of an inopportune but not so unexpected headache. After all, it was a common occurrence whenever he got stressed out. And Merlin did this conversation stress him.

His eyes snapped open incredulously at the suggestion of making an Unbreakable Vow. That…that simply went beyond the sort of reasoning Remus believed Greyback to have. Of course, it had to be said that as much as he claimed to be open-minded, Remus did have a prejudiced idea of how Fenrir was without ever really bothering to know him. But inside his head, that was not the case.

An Unbreakable Vow…It guaranteed him everything he could take without having to compromise anything for himself. And Greyback would be forced to accept those terms? No, it simply sounded too good to be true. There was probably a loop somewhere, a catch that at the moment Remus was too dazzled to see. He needed to think it all through. In peace, on his own. He needed to chew this conversation over and over. He needed to face it with himself…and with Itself.

“I don’t…I…what’s in all of this for you, Greyback? Or do you expect me to believe you’ve suddenly decided to become a charitable man?” he snapped defensively, shaking his head. The heavy blow to the head after the other man had slammed him against the wall was making his mind work silly “I can’t…I can’t think of this right now”.

Was he…was he implying he needed to think about it? That he actually wanted to think about it!?

Merlin’s fuck. He wanted to consider this. He actually wanted to go over Fenrir’s proposal…or did he not? Remus shook his head again, feeling like his brain was swimming in thick oil.

Fen’s smile wouldn’t be held back as he watched the boy’s face go through a flurry of emotions when he copped onto the idea that Fen was serious.  He knew his pup didn’t think he could trust him any further than he could throw him (and with as thin and wiry as the boy was, that wouldn’t be far).  He could tell he was trying to find the angle, the loophole.

He didn’t blame him.  The boy didn’t know him.  The boy didn’t realize that he was safer than any individual could be when it came to Fenrir.  He didn’t understand that he’d watched over him and kept him safe his entire life and that all he wanted was for Remus to come to the pack as he should have done all those years ago.

No, he didn’t blame Remus.  He blamed Lyall.  But he’d realized early on that killing his pup’s false parents wouldn’t do him any good.  The resentment and bitterness and hatred would only grow if he did that.  So he just worked on his boy as best he could.  But he would have him...

I don’t... I... what’s in all of this for you, Greyback?  Or do you expect me to believe you’ve suddenly decided to become a charitable man?  I can’t... I can’t think of this right now.

He shook his head as he moved forward, gently placing his hands on his pup’s shoulders and saying, “Then don’t, aye?”  He looked into his eyes and said, “I ain’t goin anawhere P-Remus.  I’ve plenty-a time an I’ll wait as long as I need ta.”  He smirked slightly and shook his head, “Waited all’a these years fer ya ta finally gimme the chance ta have a proper conversation, aye?  Seems fittin’ I wait a lil longer ta show ya the world ya belong in.”

He met the boy’s eyes for a long moment, then finally nodded and said.  “When ya decide yer ready, when ya decide ya wanna come, jus send me an owl.  I’ll get it, an I’ll be there within’ an hour.”

He started to back away, then paused and shifted, cupping the boy’s cheeks and encouraging him gently to look up.  His face became more stern as he said, “An ya should know Remus, ya can call me anatime, for anathing.  If yer in trouble, you call for me an I’ll be there. Always.”

He met the boy’s eyes for a moment longer, then finally released him and turned to walk away.  He paused and then picked up the coat, tossing it back to his pup.  “Put ‘at on fer yer trip home at least aye?  No reason ta catch a chill just cus ya don’t like who ya got it from aye?  Once ya get home ya can trash it,” he shrugged, “No bark off my wand.”