"It's What?" Regulus Said Haughtily, Tilting His Head Slightly In Question. A Smug Smile Of Victory Tugged

Regulus glanced back at Frank's basket again before plucking some ginger from the shelf and dropping it into the other man's basket. "I hear ginger's quite helpful for warding off sickness. Make her some teas or something," he offered, recalling from an advanced potions book he'd read a few years back. "Nothing like a screaming mandrake to ward off potential burglars," he said with a small smile, before the smile quickly vanished. "I think it might be too late to stop the passage of time...maybe I can study it though, at the ministry. See what I can do."

"It's gotta be a fake moustache...gotta commit, y'know. It can't be Regulus Black's shitty moustache. Maybe I should use a hair growth potion."

"Thanks," Frank said, sorting the ingredients to make sure he'd have enough for the few other things he had to pick up. "Now I'm definitely picking you up some other ingredients when I come back. I might plant a few for our apartment, they're good for security as well. Then I won't have to buy as many. Tell time to give you a break, you're too young for it to do so much damage."

He laughed before he could help himself, smothering his smile when the shopkeeper gave them both a confused look. "Well future Albert, it will be a pleasure to meet your mustachioed future self."

Fenrir couldn't stop the look of absolute bafflement on his face as the woman rambled about protective whiskey. "The only thing this whiskey is protecting me from is the Christmas crowds, and it's giving me a cheerful mood," he said, tone laced with sarcasm. At her next question, Fen tilted his head slightly, considering the words. "Whiskey makes me feel good. I don't need to worry about being seen, I seem to attract attention wherever I go without me working for it."

"Huh." The sound came out a soft note, permeated with sincere interest. "Amber's thought to ward off negative energy. Maybe that whiskey's protecting you from something," she said, writing something else down before throwing the quill in the depths of her handbag, folding the napkin up and putting it in her pocket. "Did it make you feel good when I did? Did you feel seen?" A gentle tug pulled the corners of her lips into a small smirk.

“if you could only see the beast you made of me"

(cw: death, discussion of injury)

𝖇 𝖆 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈

NAME: Fenrir Ulrik Greyback NICKNAMES: Fen AGE: 34 GENDER: Cis Male PRONOUNS: He/Him

𝖋 𝖆 𝖒 𝖎 𝖑 𝖞

MOTHER: Freya Greyback nee Macnair FATHER: Anders Greyback SIBLINGS: n/a

CHILDREN: Magnus Greyback

𝖕 𝖍 𝖞 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈 𝖆 𝖑 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖘

FACE CLAIM: Aaron Taylor-Johnson BUILD: Tall, stocky, particularly hairy. HAIR COLOR: Dark brown. EYE COLOR: Deep blue. DOMINANT HAND: Right. ANOMALIES: Scarring on his neck from the werewolf bite, scars on his back and his arms from claws. FASHION: Generally a bit thrown together, with clothes that are a bit patchy. NERVOUS TICS: Fenrir does not get nervous.

𝖑 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 𝖘 𝖙 𝖞 𝖑 𝖊

RESIDES: A countryside cottage in the Cotswolds, backing onto acres of woodland BORN:  Greyback family home, Norway RAISED:  Greyback family home, Norway PETS: n/a.

CAREER: Chef EMPLOYER: The White Wyvern POLITICAL AFFILIATION: Unmarked Death Eater

DRUGS: Occasionally. SMOKES: Occasionally. ALCOHOL: Fenrir likes a deep red wine, or a smokey whiskey. DIET: Red meat heavy, usually on the rarer side.

LANGUAGES: English, Norwegian.

𝖒 𝖆 𝖌 𝖎 𝖈

ALUMNI HOUSE: Home-schooled. WAND (length, flexibility, wood, & core): 13 and one quarter inches, Elm wood, unicorn tail hair core, flexible. PATRONUS: Unable to cast. BOGGART: A version of himself that is not a werewolf, a weaker being.

BIO:

Fenrir Ulrik Greyback was born in Norway to Anders and Freya Greyback, where he resided for the early years of his life. As a child, he was curious and inquisitive and spent a lot of time outside. He loved exploring the natural world, and particularly enjoyed nights when the auroras were strong and his mother would get him bundled into a snowsuit and take him out for a walk to experience the lights. His parents were wizards, but this was a natural magic and he found it fascinating. It was one such evening where a full moon shone amongst the auroras, and neither Fenrir or Freya heard the noise of a werewolf approaching them before the beast was already upon them. It attacked Fenrir first, sinking large teeth into his neck with claws shredding at his skin. He doesn’t remember anything beyond that until he woke up in the hospital with his father by his side, looking older than he ever had before. His mother was gone, having died being attacked whilst trying to pull the werewolf away from Fenrir.

Family life was never quite the same again. With Freya gone, all joy seemed to be sapped from Anders. Fenrir’s life shrunk to being home-schooled by Anders who was terrified that his son’s condition would get out if he was sent to a proper school, and the whole family would be shunned. His father stopped talking to others about Fenrir’s existence immediately, and though Fenrir never realised, he had modified the healers memories so they believed he had died with Freya. Anders told Fenrir that his condition was something to be ashamed of, something to dread. Gradually, Fenrir began to resent his treatment. Each full moon bought a newer bitterness, and as he grew up, his wolfish side began to grow stronger. As a pup, he’d found enough room to roam around the cellar that he was locked in – but with each passing month, and each passing year, he longed to be free at the full moon.

When Fenrir was fifteen, the pair relocated to Scotland where Anders was due to take up a ministry job. On the first full moon since they moved, Fenrir broke free from his bonds and killed his father. When he awoke the following morning, he was several miles away from their home in a forest, and another man was standing over him. The other man was in a similar state to Fenrir, skin torn and grey, and he offered Fenrir a hand of friendship. It was the first time he’d met another werewolf in their human form, and life was then forever changed. For the next few years, Fenrir hardly touched his wand at all. Fenrir’s disappearance from public life in Norway had done him favours, and nobody knew Fenrir had entered Britain with his father. A quick trip home to gather his belongings and transfigure his father’s body into a stick with the guidance of the older wizard, and Fenrir finally found a pack of werewolves to call family. What the ministry made of Anders disappearance, Fenrir neither knew nor cared.

For the next few years, Fenrir hardly touched his wand at all. He grew into a fully fledged werewolf, unashamed of his condition. With each passing month his power grew, and so did his thirst for blood. No longer was his father holding him back, and instead he had a pack that encouraged him to embrace his true nature. At seventeen years old, Fenrir had risen in importance amongst their pack and he had started to gain a reputation for himself as a vicious, blood-thirsty beast. He got confident and cocky in his own abilities as a beast, until he murdered two muggle children and was brought before the Ministry of Magic for questioning the following morning.

Relying on his Norwegian upbringing, and the fact he had not attended Hogwarts as a child, Fenrir played dumb. He feigned ignorance of the English language and asked the ministry workers to repeat their questions many times until he understood. His wand had been left at home because of the full moon so there was no evidence that he was a magical being, and he pretended that he had did not know of the existence of wizards. One ministry member, Lyall Lupin, identified the tell-tale scars on Fenrir's neck and tried insisting that he be held until the full moon to see if he transformed, but the rest of the ministry committee did not see value in this to Fenrir's delight. As they were releasing Fenrir, Lyall had spat that Fenrir, and all werewolves, were soulless, evil and deserving of nothing but death. Fenrir hid his rage, but vowed revenge on the man for his prejudice.

Biding his time, Fenrir spent a few months quietly watching Lyall Lupin until he discovered where the other man lived. Then it was simply a matter of waiting for the right time until he attacked the young Remus Lupin, biting him deeply to ensure that he became infected with lycanthropy. Lyall arrived quickly enough, but still too late. The deed was done - Remus had been intentionally infected, and it gave Fenrir a taste of what was to come.

In the following years, Fenrir carefully started to integrate himself into wizarding society. Fenrir works as a chef at the White Wyvern, a position that suits him well. His employers don't question Fenrir dictating his working hours around the full moon, and working in a kitchen means that he doesn't have to be seen by anyone other than his co-workers. He has started actively practicing magic again, particularly the dark arts, though he still prefers to rely on his natural brawny strength in a fight than his magical ability.

As the tension continues to build for the war, Fenrir has found a place amongst the Death Eaters, where he is more than happy to do their dirty work as long as it gives him access to further potential victims. Voldemort's refusal to offer Fenrir the dark mark has rubbed Fenrir the wrong way, and he sees the way the other Death Eaters look at him as lesser yet he bides his time. He has continued to rise amongst his pack, eventually killing his former mentor and taking his place as the leader of the pack. Their mission is to infect as many humans as possible, with the dream of creating a werewolf army that could eventually challenge wizards for dominance in society.

Whilst bringing more wolves into the pack that Fenrir leads, he grew close to a half-blood werewolf named Nancy Edwards. The pair were together for several years, and as the result of a few drunken, reckless nights, they had a son together called Magnus. Fenrir and Nancy are no longer together romantically, but they are amicably raising Magnus together. Magnus is also a werewolf, having inherited the condition by virtue of both of his parents being true lycanthropes. Fenrir is proud of his now five year old son, and is raising him with virtues that he believes will make him a strong future leader of a pack.

"Perhaps it is you that lacks manners, Carrow. You come into my home making demands of my time, and to use my fireplace...not once have I heard a please. Oh, I wouldn't concern yourself too much with my pack. The Dark Lord seems pleased with us...or are you questioning our leaders judgment?" he asked, daring her to challenge the Dark Lord himself.

Though Alecto had tried to bite back her disdain at his casual show, Fenrir knew it had irked her and he smirked. "You couldn't pay me any amount of money in the world to get involved in all of your pureblood society bullshit. I am perfectly happy where I am. If you touch this home where my son resides, you will regret it," he said, gaze hardening. "I take threats to this place very seriously. You will understand when your children arrive...do not test me again."

Fenrir continued lounging against his couch, though his brain was ticking away. "So what are you looking for exactly? Someone to depose Angus? Or are you looking for blackmail?"

"If a leader lacks manner's does that mean the rest of the pack does? This could be concerning." Alecto states in a mocking tone. The witch was certain if they did prove to be unruly that the Dark Lord would lose interest in them and perhaps they could all be put down.

Her body shifts in his direction, keeping from rolling her eyes at his unprofessionalism. "Is that jealousy I hear, Greyback?" A small pause. "I don't blame you, however, if you truly desire the caves, I'm sure we can have it arranged for you." A insidious smirk twisting on her features.

Now that had reached business and she sat up a little straighter. "We have an alliance with him, but something about him irks me." More so, how he continued to hit on her their last visit.

I've become so numb, I can't feel you there, Become so tired, so much more aware. I'm becoming this, all I want to do, Is be more like me and be less like you.

@battle-scvrs

Every time he thought about what he had done, Regulus was filled with an impending sense of doom. He'd sold his soul to a man he didn't trust, a man who would use the information he gave without consideration to the danger it put Regulus in. Sure, protectors were being provided - but really, what was a few Order agents against the might of his extremist family? If his betrayal was revealed, the Dark Lord was the very least of Regulus' problems. Bellatrix would flay him alive, he knew it. Still, he had to remain firm and confident in his decision - he couldn't continue as he had been, and therefore something had to change.

The abruptness with which Regulus had stood up had disrupted the table and the pint of beer toppled over, liquid running over the side of the table and into his shoes. "Motherfucker," he cursed, fumbling for his wand. He cast silencing charms over the room before vanishing the beer. "You can fuck off. Go back to where you came from, and tell Edgar Bones to find me someone else. This is not happening. Is he taking the actual piss?" Regulus ranted furiously. With his wand still in hand, he conjured a bottle of firewhiskey and practically ripped the lid off before lifting the bottle to his lips. It was a sick irony, he supposed, that his own instructions had led to James Potter being before him once again. "Get out. Get out."

There was a double-agent working for the Order. He'd had his own suspicions, but the rumours were confirmed once and for all when James had been asked to act as a protector for them. Of course, he had jumped at the chance. It was an honour, really; the amount of bravery that must take was nothing less than admirable, and James meant it with everything he had when he said he would protect them with his life. The technicalities of their arrangement had been discussed briefly. He had been sworn to secrecy – he was not even to tell Lily, or Sirius – at least for the time being, and so he had left his girlfriend at home with a poor excuse as to why he had to go out. She was far too clever to believe it, but known enough not to question it.

Eyes landed on the black-haired boy as soon as he ascended the spiral staircase leading to the private room that had been arranged for the two of them to make their acquaintance. James recognised the curve of his nose, the set of his jaw at once. Of course he did. He could recognise it in darkness. Mouth agape, it took him several seconds to regain any sort of composure – much less the ability to speak. "Regulus?" His voice was incredulous.

"If you needed the whole stock, and you were here before me, then that's your right," Regulus said with a shrug. The whole thing seemed quite simple to him - he wasn't sure why it was so complicated for everyone else to understand. "I'm fairly well known for being a bit of a grump, Longbottom. Politeness to others is something I have to think quite hard about."

"Oh, I know the owner is avoiding me. Perhaps I should enter next time under a disillusionment charm, or indeed under some other disguise."

"But what if I had needed the stock that was there?" Frank asked, enjoying this debate. Regulus structured his arguments well and speaking with him wasn't nearly as frustrating as talking to Bellatrix. "Perhaps you ought to start asserting your boundaries as the customer there first. Just, you know, politely."

He hummed and glanced over at the counter where the owner seemed to have disappeared, just as Regulus said. "I think the owner's avoiding you. You'll have to take them by surprise."

Watching the other woman shrink away from him, Reg briefly felt vindicated before an irritating feeling that may have been called regret prickled at his skin. He might be grumpy, but he supposed that Greta didn't deserve to receive the brunt of that grumpiness. Stepping back towards her, Regulus tapped her shoulder gently. "Hey...I'm sorry. That was rude of me."

Greta grimaced at his tone, shrinking back. "I'm sorry. I'll be out of your hair in a minute." Quickly grabbing the things she needed she stepped back, making her way to the register.

While Fenrir loved their physical relationship, it was the quiet moments like this where he felt like there was the potential for more. There was the undeniable issue of their difference in species, but for now, that didn't matter too much. Shifting slightly so that she could fit better on the couch, Fenrir leaned his head against hers. The warmth of the fire, a full stomach and the softness of the witch in his arms were the perfect concoction for a Christmas nap but he wouldn't dishonour Pandora or her time like that. "When they talk about the magic of Christmas, they don't talk about how feral five year olds can be with wrapping paper."

Noting the way that Pandora wanted to swiftly move on from discussion of her own day, Fenrir just snorted at the mention of Octavius. "I'm sure he fucking loved that. Someone will make a respectable man of him eventually," he sniggered.

Fenrir would not bring any of his hook-ups near Magnus, not wanting to expose the boy to any undue risk - or confuse him as to why his father was with different women. Fenrir and Pandora still weren't exclusive, but it had been some time since anyone other than Pandora had truly captured his attention. If it were just up to him, Fen would introduce Pandora to Magnus the next day. "I think it might be time. I would need to check with Nance though, see how she feels about it. She's almost as protective as I am, if not more. I will speak to her this week and see how she feels, if that's okay?"

Pandora leaned into his touch, resting her forehead against his, embracing the moment between them. She could see the tiredness in his eyes, shifting her body between the back of the couch and his, letting a leg drape over his waist, a palm coming to rest on his chest and her head on his shoulder. It was spending their time like this that mattered to the witch.

"My day was like the rest, besides a fancier dinner and a few extra family there." Pandora really didn't want to bore him with the irrelevant family talk, not that much attention was placed on her, which she preferred, blending into the wall, allowing herself to eat and quietly dismiss herself from the table. "Normal pureblood talk about marriages, for Octavius."

"One day, I want to be there with you two." Pandora let the words free in a soft tone. She knew all about Nancy and their co-parenting, impressed that they were able to do so. She also knew her feelings for Fenrir and they had discussed how to proceed with Magnus involved, which she agreed, whilst they figured them out. "I'd like to meet Magnus, if you think we are at that point." Hues glance up at him, the pad of her finger circling absentmindedly on his chest. She knew what she wanted.

His recent run-ins with both Sirius and Andromeda had really started to reset Regulus' brain, and he'd hardly slept over the last few weeks as he was kept up by the choices he'd made. The inner conflict was tearing him apart, and he needed to speak to someone that he could trust to keep his secret. There were very few people on Earth that Regulus felt he could trust with the enormity of this, but he just knew that Andromeda was someone he could talk to without fear of judgment. Even with her owled response confirming a date and time, Regulus had half convinced himself that his cousin was not going to come and he would be left to struggle through his feelings alone. "I wasn't sure. I wouldn't have blamed you," he offered with a small shrug. "I didn't think I would reach out either, but...here we are."

He gestured towards the couch for her to settle herself as he crossed through to his kitchen, tapping the kettle with his wand. Returning with two strong cups of tea, Regulus set them onto the coffee table before taking a seat. "I've been doing a lot of thinking recently. A lot of soul searching...it's been hurting my head, to be honest. And I guess I just...wanted to talk to someone that would understand."

Andromeda had been surprised when she had received the owl from Regulus. There had been hope that perhaps she had got through to him when she had seen him, softened some of that resolve that seemed such a Black trait. Or that perhaps even the sight of his niece would be enough to warm him. The invitation had filled her with hope, always the optimist. Still she had to consider whether or not it was a good idea, to go to his home wasn't necessarily the smartest idea. But there was no refusing him, so she'd sent him an owl with a time and date that worked for her, glad when he'd agreed. She couldn't deny upon arrival that she was nervous, she didn't know what to expect from this meeting. But regardless, she wanted to be there for Regulus, would always be there for her family. "Of course I came.." She offered him a small smile as she stepped inside, her eyes taking in their surroundings cautiously as she followed him into the living room. "Uh..tea would be lovely actually." She stood, unsure in the middle of the room, taking it all in before she turned to look at him once more. "I didn't think you would reach out.." She corrected herself. "I mean I hoped but..." She shrugged helplessly.