While Fenrir Loved Their Physical Relationship, It Was The Quiet Moments Like This Where He Felt Like

Much of the war was still being conducted in shadow. The Dark Lord had not made a grand claim for power yet, he hadn't grasped at the ministry - those things would come. The fact that the Dark Lord wanted to keep his true plans hidden for now didn't change the fact that people were being cut down on battlefields, that people had life changing injuries, and families were being shattered in the process. It was war in every way, and it was growing worse with each passing day. As Caradoc fell silent, Regulus picked his wand up again and continued patching up his boyfriend as best as he could. He wasn't an outstanding healer, but it would do for now.

"You did what you had to in the heat of battle. When faced with opponents who will use the killing curse without thought, sometimes stunners simply won't work. They may not be able to find out. He does have a daughter," Reg nodded in confirmation. "But if there weren't witnesses, they may not be able to figure it out." He froze at Caradoc's pleading, and he was torn. He wanted to protect Caradoc, but he knew that it was putting himself at unnecessary risk. "...I promise," he said after a beat of silence. "But if they come for you, I will fight on your side. I want you to know that. If it means breaking my cover early...we'll just have to deal with it."

“This is war.”

For some reason, those words of Regulus’s rang in his ears. Memories of his father teaching him about all of Britain’s wars, but mainly World War I and World War II, in the hot summer air, flashed through his mind. Stories of fallen soldiers, the looks on his parents faces when he solemnly told them about the war in the Wizarding World and the danger muggle-borns and muggles were in. Instead of understanding him, accepting him like he thought they finally might, they just held Caradoc’s younger siblings tighter and told him that if he wasn’t going to give up a life of magic, he could leave. They didn’t express any concern at all for their eldest son or the position he was in.

“I killed a Death Eater,” he repeated, a little louder this time as he had to repeat it to believe it. “The Death Eaters will find out and they will want to know who did it. He—he has a daughter, I think. I don’t know if she’s aligned with the Death Eaters or not. I should look into that . . . Somehow, I’m in even more danger than before. Reg, you have to promise me you won’t do anything risky. If you try to protect me, they’ll know you’ve betrayed them.” He looked at his boyfriend with pleading eyes. “I can’t lose you.”

Having already sent an owl to warn of her impending arrival, Cassie had apparated across to Val's at 7pm on the dot. She had two bottles of wine in her bag along with a box of chocolates, and as soon as she apparated into her friend's home she threw herself down on the couch. "I brought wine!" she called loudly, wondering whereabouts in the house Val was. @valeria-flint

The summons to the auror office was of little concern to Regulus, who would quite happily shift the blame of whatever Black artefact had been found causing trouble onto his father. Regulus was extremely careful when out on missions - removing any and all personal possessions that may identify him if left behind other than his wand. Whatever the aurors believed they had found would be nothing to do with him - in fact, he'd be surprised if this wasn't more of a box-ticking exercise by the aurors to try and prove to the ministry that they were investigating something. Rounding the corner towards the meeting room he had been summoned to, Regulus stopped dead in his tracks at the familiar mess of black hair in front of him. "Sirius. What are you....why are you here?" @siriusbpadfoot

It was shameful, truly, that they'd had to go through such loops to meet up as brothers. To meet in a room booked under another man's name, under heavy warding, and even then to be so suspicious of each other than they couldn't even sit down casually. He knew that Sirius' air of nonchalance was a mask, and he wasn't sure that his brother would ever trust him fully again. Their relationship was broken, potentially beyond repair, but Regulus wanted to at least try. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't try.

Nodding slowly at Sirius words, Regulus swallowed back a lump of emotion in his throat. The words he had practiced were gone as he stared at his brother, fearing that if he fucked this up that he would be lost to him forever. "It won't come as a surprise to you that our parents marched me in front of the Dark Lord as early as they could. They didn't want to risk it. And I wanted to do the right thing, to make them proud. That's all I've ever wanted. To be a good son, to be a good brother. You were gone, so they were all I had left," he said, his gaze falling. "But I was awful at it all. I was having lessons to teach me to be better. For all intents and purposes, there was nothing stopping me. My magic is strong, I have an iron-clad will like a true Black, and I had an outstanding teacher. I could have been like Bellatrix, I know I could. But I had a mental block that was preventing me from casting truly dark magic, because in my heart I knew it was wrong. I knew it. And I can't live like that any more. I can't fight for their cause."

Regulus lifted his gaze, his eyes fixed intently on Sirius. "I'm not sure I believe in your Order. I'm not sure they have a chance at all. But I'm hoping that by providing them with information, it will give the Order an edge. A way in. He's just a man....a very powerful man, but he's just a man. The regime has to be undermined, the Death Eaters...some of them just seek power. If we can prompt some in-fighting, along with disrupting raids and attacks...I don't know, maybe it's a chance." He paused for a moment, stuffing his hands in his pockets to disguise the shake. "I know this doesn't fix anything. I don't expect you to trust me, I don't expect anything from you. I know you have your own life, and I know there's no place in it for me any more. I'm not asking for anything at all. But I wanted you to hear it from me."

Sirius put his hands casually in his pocket, his hand fingering his wand in his pocket. While he leaned against the door, looking every bit the part of a bored and unbothered man, he was alert. He leaned against the door so he could hear everything on the other side, his hand in his pocket so he could whip his wand out at a moment's notice. Some part of him - the part that had been working with the Order for years - thought this might be an ambush. It would be just his look to speak to his brother for the first time in years and end up killed because of it a few days later. He still came though, because despite the estranged years between them he just couldn't believe Regulus would do that to him. He hoped as much anyway.

His face was set, unreadable - a skill they had both learned from all their years in the Black family manor. "Edgar told me something alright," Sirius said with an unamused laugh. "But I want to hear what you have to say." Double agent. Yeah right. Sirius had it in his mind to tell Dumbledore he should keep an eye on Edgar, not entirely sure someone wasn't doing an Unforgivable on him if he was so easily convinced of something so stupid. All that had been proved to Sirius so far was that he was right to think Regulus had followed in Bellatrix's footsteps; the two of them doing the Black family proud as they traipsed after Voldemort.

“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.

Edgar remaining seated was an indication that all of the power lay with him at the moment, while Regulus stood before him like a naughty child. Still, he would not sit - it was far too casual while he was being questioned on such matters. He stared down at Edgar, his jaw set firmly as he considered the man's words. Clearly, they did believe they had enough evidence to link the heirloom and it's recent use to Regulus, otherwise he wouldn't be called back.

But if that were the case, why was he here instead of simply being arrested and carted off to Azkaban?

"Mr Bones, I appreciate that you yourself have not been raised with strict, ancient family values. I know what is required of me, and that has shaped who I am. My words, and what is required by my parents, are one and the same. There used to be two boys to share the burden between our demanding parents, now there is only one...I manage as I must," Regulus said, his tone sharp. Those who had been raised outside of a Sacred Twenty-Eight upbringing could never hope to understand the demands and pressures that their parents put on them. "I'm not sure what my conscience has to do with this, Mr Bones," he said, though his eyebrows furrowed as Edgar mentioned his internal conflict that had grown so loud he could almost hear it roaring in his ears.

Staring silently at the photo of himself and Sirius, Regulus shook his head. "Sirius made his choice. He chose his friends, and he left me behind...he left me. He knew what our parents would do to me, and he left me anyway. He left me to rot," he said bitterly, though he reached for the photograph anyway. "Your idea of family, and my own idea of family, they differ. I have nobody, Mr Bones. I am alone in this world - and if I wanted to run to Sirius, I couldn't. I don't know where my own brother lives."

Frowning once again at Edgar's offer, Regulus paused. He'd been gearing up to leave, but the offer seemed genuine. There was another beat of silence, before Regulus finally took a seat. In a very quiet voice, he asked "what protection could you offer me against the Dark Lord? People do not simply leave the service of the Dark Lord. They serve, or they die. How can you guarantee protection, and safety?"

"And what would you ask in return? I take it this offer is not from the kindness of your heart."

"Stand if you must." Edgar did not care too much for what the boy did, there were more pressing matters at hand and he knew this situation had to be dealt with in a certain manner to work in their favour. He remained seated in his chair, hands clasped together in front of him.

Being meant with resistant was expected and he could appreciate how hard it appeared family ties were instilled in the boy, but that also would also aid his words. No matter how dire Regulus wished to keep his composure, there was always a truth written within the eyes.

"Were those your words, or words required of you?" A beat. "At times it can feel hard to free oneself of shackles so tightly encompassed around us. The weight of our conscience a constant struggle on what is right or wrong." Edgar leans back in his chair. "I see the conflict in your eyes Regulus." He was throwing all his cards out on the desk.

"Family doesn't force you to believe in what they want you to. A real family, they accept you for who you are." He pulled out a picture from underneath the one, a smaller one, of two boys together, one he had brought to him. "You have a brother who would accept you for who you are."

Edgar went to stand up, hands resting on top of the desk. "If you have nothing more to share, then I will not hold you." A pause. "But what I can offer you, if you decide to do the right thing, is protection outside of these walls, not within the ministry." Half of the people he didn't trust. "And I have a feeling you know what I mean."

The last time Fenrir had found himself so vulnerable in the arms of another, he had ended up with Magnus at the end of it all. He'd spent so long working his way through the pack, fiercely independent and comfortable in his own company, and he hadn't expected Nancy to worm her way into his heart. Now history was repeating itself again. Things had started with Dora as a way to warm each other's beds, and now there was something....more. Something unexpected, but something wonderful. "I hope he does. I hope he knows his father wants only the best for him," Fenrir said earnestly. "There's nothing left of Anders. There was nothing but scraps at time, but I made sure those scraps disappeared. Nobody even cared enough to look for him," he sneered, thinking of the way his father had intentionally isolated them away. Taking her words on board, Fenrir nodded slowly, offering her a tight smile. "I try my best."

He knew that Pandora must have spent a great deal of time infusing these bracelets with her own magic, and he appreciated it more than he could say. "I don't need more. This is perfect, it's so thoughtful," he said, leaning his forehead against hers as their eyes met. With the war growing darker, and Fenrir finding himself being called upon more and more, it was a gift like no other to be able to know that his son was safe and away from it all.

Fenrir's hands came to settle on Pandora's waist, thumbs aimlessly tracing circles. "Darling, I'd cook for us. I like doing it, it makes me feel useful. Speaking of, what are you doing for New Years? If you have nothing on I could make us a meal, then we could go away for the night somewhere?"

The stress of the day melted away being tucked in Fenrir's arms. All her worries and doubts, they didn't matter when she was here in his home. Laying there listening to his story about his father stirred feelings of anger and sadness for him. Her parents were far from perfect, but they celebrated their way. "I bet you Magnus feels that love. I see it in your eyes when you talk about him. If your father was here still, I'd hurt him myself, for making you feel that way." A hand comes up to cup his cheek, leaning up to kiss his chin. "I also want to point out, you are nothing like your father. You are a strong leader who does have compassion, in his own way, but you care about those who are your pack above all, you protect those that you love."

Pandora would never grow tired of kissing him. There was this spark that sparked each time their lips met and it was one of the best feelings that washed over her. Her eyes lit up when he opened the box with the bracelets, spending the last few weeks to get the spell right, but with a twist of her own magic in it. "You deserve more, Fen." There was a peace of mind knowing that he would always be able to know where Magnus was when he couldn't be home.

"This is our first Christmas together." Fingers comb gently through his hair, moving it away from his face. "I'm really hoping that next year, we could all do it together." She was hopefully for what their future could look like, ignoring all the obstacles that would be in their way. "I'm not the best cook, but I think I could put a meal together."

Regulus couldn't help the way he flinched at James' easy joke. Sure, it was easy for James Potter - everything came easy to James fucking Potter. And like almost everything else in Regulus' life, Sirius was the first choice and Regulus was the unwanted extra. The little kid clutching his brother's arm, the teenager chasing after his brother's friends, the adult who was chasing everything that Sirius should have been and everything that he was not. "I know Sirius is your...I don't know, favourite person ever or whatever, but I'd appreciate not being lumped in with him any more. He made his choices, and I made mine....and you made yours," all traces of easy teasing gone from his tone, replaced with strained tension. "I'm Regulus, and I am ridiculous...and you've got no insight into my life any more. You wasted that chance."

James' innuendo made Regulus' brain short circuit for a moment, and his jaw fell agape for a moment before he collected himself. "Several years ago, maybe. But I think I'll pass on that now, I've moved on. I am, however, still interested in you grovelling. I am about to be the sole owner of all of England's jewelweed after all," he smirked. "Oh good, I'll make sure to frame it and put it over my mantlepiece."

"You're not Ridiculous, you're Regulus. Easy mix-up, I do it all the time." It was a joke akin to serious/Sirius, and something in that made James feel inexplicably guilty. It wasn't that he felt he was doing anything wrong right now, but the months when he did, years ago, threatened to resurface. Lying to his best friend had been the hardest thing in the world. In the end, he'd chosen to stop – that is, stop meeting Regulus on the astronomy tower every night, stop whatever it was that they had been doing. Sirius meant too much to him to go behind his back. And this wasn't something he could, or would, ever tell him. James made his decision, and it had been (it would always be) Sirius.

"Is that what you want? For me to grovel? Do you want me on my knees, Reg?" The double entendre wasn't intentional, but it floated in the air between them nevertheless. By the time he said it, it was too late to take back. He'd just pretend he didn't hear it. "I appreciate the concern, but I can do one more for you, don't worry."

Kingsley cast his eyes over Aurora with a surveying eye, and her nervousness was evident. He didn’t want to terrify the poor girl, but equally, he was not willing to send unprepared fighters out into the field only to have to knock on their loved one’s doors and deliver the news that unfortunately their daughter had died. Rolling his shoulders as he settled himself for a defensive fight, Kingsley watched her body language with interest. He felt her need to prove herself, but he wasn’t going to make it easy for her. Deflecting her charm with a lazy flick of his wand, Kingsley sent back his own disarming charm. “Disarm me any way you can – assume your opponent will defend with the intent to attack. Next time, I will defend with jinxes."

Aurora was slightly nervous meeting with Kingsley. There was an intimidation that seemed to linger in the air and this need to make a good impression. It was important to show him that she was capable of taking care of herself, so that he would tell Edgar it was fine sending her back out on missions. "I know better than showing up late." Not that she would anyway, being prompt was one of her traits. Her eyes widen when he asks her to disarm him, glancing around where she could feel the magic of the charms surrounding them. Her wand secure in her grasp. She raises her arm, her gaze fixating on his wand. "Expelliarmus." She speaks clearly and sternly, flicking her wrist in the direction of where he is holding his wand.