#strayback

Milady,

Received and understood. There’s a portkey from my garden to yours. I’ll race you to it.

It seemed fitting that he was fighting his way through a blizzard to see his baby daughter. He’d wanted to be there, to stay close to her, to the woman he had loved for far longer than he would ever admit, but the pups had sent an SOS, and when he’d got back, he’d seen that they had needed him.

The pups were strong, but they didn’t have the bodyweight needed to batten down the house, and he’d struggled with them to make it safe. 

And now he needed to see her. 

Fenrir, contrary to popular opinion, and despite appearances, did not want a baby. He didn’t know what to do with a baby. Babies were small. Dangerously small, and fragile. Way too fragile for a wolf pack. What could he do with a baby? It couldn’t come hunting, it couldn’t look after itself if he needed to separate a fight, it couldn’t even feed itself.

He didn’t know what he could do with a baby. But that didn’t change the fact that she was here. And she was his. Fenrir had wondered, but then he’d brushed the doubt away. The baby was his. 

The wind whipped viciously against his face, and it felt like the claws of his Goddess, digging into him, tugging him and pulling him. He was freezing. “Bloody long driveway.” He’d complained about it before, and now it seemed even more pertinent, as he pulled the collar of his jacket higher around his neck, hunkering down. The wind howled and sang around him, and he could feel the wild, vicious joy in the world. His daughter was here. 

He hadn’t taken any childcare classes. Thane had been three, he’d been in control of his bodily functions, he’d been able to sort of walk around, and Fenrir had been able to just make sure he had food and clothes and stuff. 

A baby was an entirely different matter.

He’d been looking at nannies. He’d contacted Abraxas, who had given him the name of the agency his parents had used, with a vague insinuation that he had shagged some of them. His childhood had been mostly pain, and fear, and betrayal, but he did remember that the women who had cared for him had been kind. And he didn’t know how to care for a baby, and Bellatrix... 

He was scared. He was very scared. He didn’t want to hurt this kid. He didn’t know how to care for one, Bellatrix didn’t, and he didn’t know how to not mess it up. He was a wolf. He couldn’t deal with it, and so he was going to make sure that the baby got the care she needed, and stay out of the way so he didn’t break her.

It was warmer in the house, but not much warmer, and he gently waved away the house elf who came to take his coat, heading upstairs. Her room wasn’t hard to find, and the moment he opened the door, he froze.

The scent of her blood washed over him, and he flinched, before rushing to her side. “Bella?” She looked up at him. She looked exhausted, drained, and he shook his head, pressing his lips to hers, cupping her cheek gently, before drawing back to look at her. “Are you alright?” 

She nodded, and he sighed in relief. “It smells...”

“I know.” She smiled, combing her hand through his hair. “I’m perfectly fine, though, Fenrir.” He shrugged out of his coat - this room was much warmer - and hung it up, returning to her side. 

“Mistress-” He turned, at the little squeaky voice behind him, and looked down into the most beautiful face he’d ever seen. 

He’d never believed in love at first sight. You loved someone for who they were, not what they looked like, love took time, you had to get to know them, their personalities. You had to see how you worked together. 

He’d been wrong. The tiny person gave a little shriek, waving a chubby hand at him, and he stared at her. The elf shifted, and glanced at Bellatrix. “Would Master Fenrir... Like to hold Miss Neva?”

“Neva...”

“It means... snow, in-”

“It’s perfect.” He bent down, and very gently picked up the tiny bundle, his hands shaking. “Oh, Goddess. She’s perfect. I- My hands-” Bella slid her hand over his, smiling. 

“It’s alright.” Fenrir sighed, shakily, as the little girl looked up at him, babbling, and reached up, her tiny nails surprisingly sharp as they dug into his face. “Ow. She looks like you.” He murmured, and Bellatrix frowned. 

“I think she looks like you.” He chuckled, and she shifted over, patting the bed. “Goddess. I feel like I’m going to break her. She’s so tiny.” He shook his head, as steel-grey eyes that he was sure would sink armadas and break a million hearts looked up at him in slightly cross bewilderment. “Look at that.” Her feet kicked at the blanket she was wrapped in, and he carefully lifted her up against his chest. “F...fuck...” 

“She’s going to have a potty mouth.” Bella grumbled.

“Says you. I’m shitting myself here.” He muttered back, finally settling her on her front, against his chest, rubbing her back gently, nuzzling into the shock of black hair that he just knew was going to end up a tangled mess. 

“She’s so beautiful.” He murmured, looking back at Bellatrix, smiling. “I didn’t... I mean, I don’t know how to do this. I don’t have a clue. But I... I don’t want her to have a nanny. I don’t want her to spend a minute out of my sight. I want her to stay... with me.” She looked at him, sharply, and he bit his lip. “I know we don’t have... everything. But I want her to stay... with the pack.” Bellatrix’s eyes sparked, and the hand that had been resting on his leg was suddenly claws, and Neva was imitating her father’s yelp of pain.

“I may not have mothering instincts, but if you think you can take our-”

“Fucksake Bellatrix.” Fenrir muttered. “Of course you’re coming too. Ow.” He gently shook his leg, and she released him, with a smile that would have been sheepish if it was on anyone else’s face. 

“Fuck!” Fenrir winced, as Neva smacked the spoon, sending it spinning across the kitchen, flicking custard all over the kitchen. 

“Neva, we don’t say that word, do we?” Neva grinned up at her father, and kicked her feet in the high chair, happily, waving her hands. “Fuckfuckfuckfigfug.” Fenrir ran a hand over his face. 

“Oh, Goddess, why have You sent a demon to torment me?” Neva squealed, and Thane passed him the spoon, having washed it up. “Okay, cmon, we’re going to eat this now. Custard is nice!” Neva scowled, clearly disagreeing, and eyed the spoon mutinously. “Alright, custard isn’t nice, but you loved it yesterday.” He shrugged, and wiped her face up with her bib, making her scream at him, and then sink her teeth into his hand. “Ow! Neva! No biting!” 

Neva looked up at him, for a moment. “Oh... oh, no, sweetheart, no, I’m sorry, I’m sorry please don’t cry-” She whimpered, and then burst into tears. He scooped her up, holding her close. “No, no, sweetheart, Daddy is sorry! He didn’t mean to yell at you, no, no he didn’t. No, he just doesn’t like being bitten, that’s all.” He bounced her gently, as she wailed in his ear. “And when you’re older, you’ll get bitten back if you bite someone. So I gotta teach you now not to bite, so no-one bites you in future, okay?” 

Her wails drew Bellatrix, who cooed and scooped her daughter up. Fenrir made an injured noise, as Neva stopped crying almost immediately, looking over her mother’s shoulder with tear-filled, hurt eyes. “I didn’t-”

“Shhhh.” Bella laughed. 

“I just tried to feed her custard! She likes custard! At least she did like custard yesterday.” He scowled, and Neva buried her face in her mother’s shoulder, with a little whimper. “I don’t understand her.” He moved over to Bellatrix, nuzzling her, gently, wrapping an arm around her waist, just breathing her in. 

“Oh, what did Daddy do, Neva?” She asked, looking down at her daughter. Neva looked up at her, and gave them both a look, before saying, in a tiny, tear-filled voice; “Fuck.”

Neva grew up fast, and it turned out the child of Fenrir Greyback and Bellatrix Lestrange was not an easy child to deal with. Fenrir had been worried about her and Joe clashing, but the little girl had taken one look at her and decided they were going to be “BEST SISTER-FRIENDS FOREVER” and they were now one hell of a force to be reckoned with.

Neva had a choleric nature, and her mood was constantly shifting, mercurial and temperamental. One moment she could be sitting happily colouring, and the next she’d be in a full-scale meltdown. 

Just like now. Joe was sitting in the middle of the floor, determinedly shredding a pillow, as Neva screamed, and screamed, and screamed. “Rabastan!”

Since they’d sent him Miss Cuddles, he’d started visiting the pups, and it appeared he had a gift with both the girls. He appeared in the doorway, and crouched down in front of them. “What’s going on?”

“Daddy won’t let me decorate my room!” Neva screeched, and threw a scrap of destroyed pillow. 

“Hey.” Rabastan put a hand on her shoulder, and both tantrums stopped instantly. Rabastan very rarely touched them, and Fenrir could see that he’d gone a little pale. He took his hand away, and Neva looked up at her uncle. “Why can’t you decorate your room?”

“Because Daddy is a shit.” Rabastan’s face twitched in the way which meant he was smiling. 

“You can’t decorate that room because we’re moving you to a bigger room, Neva, one you can decorate however you want.” She looked up at him, and he smiled, going to scoop her up, smiling at Rab. “Thanks.” She sniffled, and Joe got up, clinging to Fenrir’s leg. He ruffled her hair, gently, and smiled, kissing his daughter’s forehead. “Cmon, let’s go pick some stuff for your room.”

She was never more alive when she was in the snow. No matter how hard her parents tried to keep her inside, she’d escape, in her boots and coat, and run out into the snow, looking up at the sky, her cheeks flushed red, her breath steaming in the cold air, her eyes almost seeming white in the stark light.

Fenrir looked out at her, now, catching snowflakes on her tongue, laughing delightedly as she raced around the yard, sure-footed, despite the slippiness. She was incredible. She was already manifesting, she had done at four years old, and he smiled as she ran around, and then flopped back into a snowdrift.

He had never wanted a child. He didn’t know how to deal with a baby. They were fragile and helpless, and life with wolves meant that fragile helpless things got broken and eaten. 

Neva was neither of those things. She was a wolf cub. She was a competent witch, despite her tender age. She was vicious and wild, and she was nobody’s fool, and anything that tried to break her would end up in more pain that it had ever known.

Fenrir had never been prouder of anything. He loved his pups. Thane was practically his son, and he had grown up to be a fantastic young man. But Neva was... different. She was his, and no-one would ever be able to take that away from him. She was half him, and half her mother, and he had never seen anyone more beautiful in his life. She had all of their good qualities, and a good handful of their bad. She was wild, and she was loyal, and she was more than he could ever have hoped to have. 

She turned to the window, seeing him watching, and grinned, waving, and blowing him a kiss. He smiled, as she got back to chasing snowflakes. 

“Are you crying, Fenrir?” 

“No.” He muttered, as Bellatrix appeared, running her hands up his chest, grinning, and he narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m not!” She chuckled, and he gently clasped her head to his chest, nuzzling her hair. “It’s just... this is more... She’s....”

“Pet!” He heard his summons, and ran down the stairs, to where Bellatrix was standing in the doorway, Her teeth bared, wand out.

“Mistress?” He looked out, and his eyes widened as he saw eight Aurors outside, trying to break through the wards.

“They’ve come for me.” She snarled, twirling Her wand, shaking slightly.

They moved back through the house, setting the booby traps as they did, vicious ones that if triggered could well kill everyone. The coats of armour stood to attention, as the first ward was broken, and Bellatrix grabbed his hand, dragging him back to the drawing room, more or less at the centre of the house. She sat down, and he knelt at Her feet, catching his own wand when She summoned it. Her hands stroked through his hair, and he didn’t complain when She tugged some out in her compulsive, jerky administrations.

There were shouts and screams from the rest of the house, as the wards and the traps set in the house kicked in. There would be fire racing down corridors, water filling rooms, one even had flesh-hungry rats…

“Go, pet.”

“Mistress?” He looked up at Her, blinking, confused.

“I said go!” She snarled, standing up, and yanked at his hair, throwing him to the ground. “I no loner have need of you.”

“Mistress, they’re coming-“

“And you will slow me down.” She snarled, Her wand whipping round to point at his throat. “Now get out. You know the escape route. Now go.”

“Mistress, Mistress, please-“ He moved over to Her, on his knees, clutching at Her desperately.

“Don’t call me that. I don’t need you. This is my last stand, and I don’t want some halfbreed marring it.” Her wand was right between his eyes, and he shut them, flinching, and then fell back, hard, as She kicked him in the chest. “Now get out.” She snarled. “I won’t ask again.”

He got up, and scrambled out, looking back at Her, flinching when She growled at him.

He headed for the back exit, and then stopped. No matter if his Mistress had sent him, he would never let Her face this alone. He wouldn’t. She could punish him later if She wanted. If he was still alive.

His wand was still in his hand, and he turned, padding back to the other side of the house, where they were coming from, standing tall in the corridor. They wouldn’t get to Her. There were only three left, and he dropped back into a fighting stance, before waving his wand, summoning the Fiendfyre that felt like it was burning inside him, the pain they had caused him. She sent me away because of you.

He was flanked on all sides, a wolf, a bobcat, a raven, other shapes writhing and curling in the flames, and as one, they charged. The Aurors put up shields, but they all fell back, and were forced to run from the flames, jets of magical water keeping the flaming animals at bay. Spells shot towards him, and he countered them, deflecting one into the heart of its caster, before sending ropes to wrap around the other two.

As they fell, he heard the door slam open behind him. He turned, ready to apologise, and felt a sudden coldness hit him in the chest. His eyes glazed, and he fell, hard, suddenly unable to breathe.

“Fenrir!”

It was the first time She’d said his name in years, and he looked up at Her, uncomprehending, as She fell to Her knees beside him, fury in Her face. “M… Mi… Mistress…” He whispered, and felt Her hands caressing his face, saw Her shaking Her head.

“No. Pet, no. Stay awake, that’s an order, don’t you dare disobey me! Don’t you dare.”

He blinked, and it took effort. It hurt. He hurt so much. “Forgive me… Mistress.” He wheezed, Her hand finding his. “No. No!” She slapped him, hard, the rings she wore biting into his skin, but he didn’t feel it. “Pet, no, Fenrir…”

She ducked Her head, pressing Her lips to his, and he felt the last bit of warmth he ever would, a wet tear falling onto his face.

Milady,

It’s been too long since I last saw you. And I was wondering if you’d go on a hunt with me. And by hunt... I mean just us.

You’re enchanting, alright? No-one’s ever understood me like you do. Our hunt has stuck in my head, and... I want to do it again. Only without the pack.

Y’can always say no, of course. 

But don’t.

Dear Mistress

I am Yours, and forever will be.

I miss You, Mistress. I know the Dark Lord needs me out here, but I wish I could be back in Your arms, Mistress, kneeling at Your feet, as is my place. I miss it, Mistress. 

I hope You are well, Mistress. I hate to think of You alone. I want to bring You Your dinner, and then massage Your feet, help You to relax. It hurts, Mistress, to imagine You in need, and not be able to do anything about it.

I have done as You commanded, Mistress. I have spent an hour in reflection each day, thinking of ways to better serve You, and I have not touched myself since leaving Your side. Pleasure breeds laziness and complacency, and I must always be on my toes, always alert and thinking about You, never taking my place, the place You have bestowed upon me, for granted. 

I love You, Mistress, and will for the rest of my days.