considering writing a smutty fanfic called fifty shades of greyback
Baby Sit

slytheringamma )

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          “ The answer is no. 

This isn’t because I’m a
                                   werewolf,
                                                                     is it?

asagaciousmind )

He didn’t want to answer. It felt so unfair. His entire life had been shaped and directed by this man, although Greyback himself might not be aware of how much of an inpact he had. Rage and fear and desperation shot through hit all at once, and his hands trembled at his side. And he had the nerve to not remember him. He had broken into his house as a child and stolen something he could never give back, and he didn’t even remember his name. The blow was powerful enough to send a new wave of nausea through him. 

He wanted to refuse. To not give him his name because what else could this man want from him. There was nothing more he could take, and he did not owe him a reply. And yet he couldn’t help the way he seemed to shrink under the mere presence of the older man. The authority he demanded by simply standing there sent cold shivers through the puppy. He was twenty-five years old, and there was nothing he could do to defend himself. His wand lay abandoned on the ground, and Remus knew that even if he held it in his hand, he would not be able to use it. His will to fight simply wasn’t there. Like he knew he would lose. There was nothing to do but to obey - like he knew - like he feared.

"Remus Lupin," he said quietly, his voice softer and weaker than usual. Of couse he’d answer him. He’d always do exactly what he was told. Coward. Pitiful. Remus took another step backwards, wanting to put as much distance between him and the werewolf as possible. Wanting to turn around and run. He collided with the corner of a small table and stopped, frozen. In running away from the wizard community, this was what he had found. Would he never have peace? Remus had not been so frightened in years. "Can I… Can I help you?"

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Ah. Remus Lupin. Now, there was a name he did remember. He tilted his head, grin growing again, looking him up and down. He could smell the fear coming off him, would have been able to even if he hadn’t been able to see it. It made sense, of course. No doubt his father had never stopped speaking of him in the same terms he had that day at the Ministry so long ago. That is, if he’d allowed the kid to stick around. Fenrir’d always assumed he had – after all, he ought to have come searching for him, or others like him – much sooner, if he hadn’t. And if that’d been the case, well, Fenrir was sure he would have known. It wasn’t easy to get lost in the werewolf ‘community’ – it was just too small.

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And the boy’s memories of him couldn’t be pleasant. He hadn’t had the time to explain, of course. If it hadn’t been to teach his father a lesson, he would have taken him with him. He would have shaped his life, in a way that was much better than whatever he had received.

(Truthfully, he’d no idea what the boy’s upbringing had been like, but there was no way it could have been better than what Fenrir would have offered him; it was either living as a hermit or being shunned by wizards, and neither was particularly desirable for a pack animal with any self-respect.)

Perhaps it had been unfair, to infect him and flee like that. He’d been younger then, a little more rash. But Remus had found him all on his own. He didn’t know how, and he was certain it was not on purpose – his reaction had been enough to tell him that – but there had to have been something drawing them together after all these years. Maybe it was a blessing, for the both of them. Fenrir could try to put things right. He bent to pick up the wand that had clattered to the floor.

“Remus. Yeah, I remember you.” His eyes wandered over him, staring hard, searching out his scars, trying to place the ones he might have caused. “You look better than the last time we met, if that’s saying anything.”

Baby Sit

slytheringamma )

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      “Alright, alright. You’re very… helpful.
       You are. But really now— how much 
       experience do you have watching
       children? And spare me any vaguely
       paedophilic sounding answers.”

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Vaguely   paedo——You don’t want to
offend  me,  do  you?  I’ve a  wealth  of
experience  with  kids. They l o v e me.
   

                                                                         ——and I love them.

inthemoonlxght

His day hadn’t started off so well. More were dead – had been for weeks – but the news had only reached him that morning. They didn’t own any owls, for they were much too easy to track and drew too much attention to the place, so they relied only on word of mouth. It wasn’t ideal, but Fenrir had long given up most of his ideals. In any case, most of the pack there didn’t know any better – this was the best life had ever been for them, and, in some cases, the only life they knew.

He could have stayed and taken his anger out on them, but he’d done that once too often lately and he didn’t want them to begin to think of him as a tyrant. They needed time, right now, to mourn their brothers and sisters, even the ones they hadn’t known. And he needed to get away from them, from their whimpers and pitiful howling, because much as he encouraged them to embrace the wolf, a lot of them did so mindlessly, and with all that noise it was hard for him to think.

It was as he was prowling the edges of the village, half-heartedly looking for anyone vulnerable to take out his frustration on, that he caught the scent – a familiar one, but one he hadn’t smelled in a long while. He turned, eyeing the approaching figure, and without realising, drawing himself up a little taller.

doyouspeakwerewolf:

concept art of Fenrir Greyback by Rob Bliss for, Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince