Of Wolf and Man
Who: Lucius and Fenrir
What: A (snort) friendly chat
When: September 6, not long after sundown
Where: Fenrir's hideaway, somewhere in the Yorkshire moors
Status: Incomplete
What was it about Fenrir Greyback that made every area he chose to inhabit feel... distasteful?
Was it the way his yellow eyes leered at those he spoke to even when their backs were turned? Or the way he showed more of his ghastly teeth than necessary when he spoke? Or the guttural whisper of his voice, hoarse and throaty and growling to inspire shivers in even the calmest of people?
Or was it simply his reputation for horrific brutality?
He had more than earned that reputation, mused Lucius Malfoy to himself as he strode through the quiet darkness of the open moor. He'd refreshed everyone's memories about just how brutal it was possible for him to be with that business over the Auror's Mudblood family. And while Lucius certainly felt little pity for the Mudbloods themselves, he felt a great deal of pity for the organization he had once joined out of a sense of pride in what he was. An organization dedicated to purifying the Wizarding population of the country, reestablishing the natural order of supremacy...
Now being overrun by half-breed monsters and psychopaths.
Lucius sighed heavily. Things were not as they should be. That people like Fenrir Greyback and Bellatrix Lestrange had their uses was obvious, but their presence was irritating to him nonetheless. Especially the nauseating habit Greyback had of picking the remnants of his most recent human meals out from between his teeth or from under his clawlike fingernails in front of people. The thought nearly made Lucius gag.
Best to get this over with, he thought, and took a deep breath.
"Greyback?"
The sound of his voice, even without shouting, carried far across the deserted moor. Lucius shivered, pulling his cloak tighter around him, and his hand found a reassuring grip on the handle of his wand.
"Where are you?"
What: A (snort) friendly chat
When: September 6, not long after sundown
Where: Fenrir's hideaway, somewhere in the Yorkshire moors
Status: Incomplete
What was it about Fenrir Greyback that made every area he chose to inhabit feel... distasteful?
Was it the way his yellow eyes leered at those he spoke to even when their backs were turned? Or the way he showed more of his ghastly teeth than necessary when he spoke? Or the guttural whisper of his voice, hoarse and throaty and growling to inspire shivers in even the calmest of people?
Or was it simply his reputation for horrific brutality?
He had more than earned that reputation, mused Lucius Malfoy to himself as he strode through the quiet darkness of the open moor. He'd refreshed everyone's memories about just how brutal it was possible for him to be with that business over the Auror's Mudblood family. And while Lucius certainly felt little pity for the Mudbloods themselves, he felt a great deal of pity for the organization he had once joined out of a sense of pride in what he was. An organization dedicated to purifying the Wizarding population of the country, reestablishing the natural order of supremacy...
Now being overrun by half-breed monsters and psychopaths.
Lucius sighed heavily. Things were not as they should be. That people like Fenrir Greyback and Bellatrix Lestrange had their uses was obvious, but their presence was irritating to him nonetheless. Especially the nauseating habit Greyback had of picking the remnants of his most recent human meals out from between his teeth or from under his clawlike fingernails in front of people. The thought nearly made Lucius gag.
Best to get this over with, he thought, and took a deep breath.
"Greyback?"
The sound of his voice, even without shouting, carried far across the deserted moor. Lucius shivered, pulling his cloak tighter around him, and his hand found a reassuring grip on the handle of his wand.
"Where are you?"