WARNINGS: I had a bit of trouble with deciding on the rating for this story. Please not the excessive cussing and sexual inclinations, that may be considered disturbing.

Also, if you feel an intense need to understand the teeeny bit of french in here, please scroll to the bottum of the page for a mini-dictionary I've made up of neccessary terms. As for the fluent french speakers, I apologize if I messed anything up grammatically or otherwise.

Oh, and by the way... Petit Salope Francais means 'Little French Bitch' in french.

Please Enjoy!


Petit Salope Français

The Story of the Werewolf and the Veela

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

By Murasaki Kurai

Night doesn't scare me anymore. When I was younger, night was only a reminder of everything that made me different. Everything that made me cursed. Even when it was weeks away from the full moon, I would never venture outdoors after dark.

Now, I welcome the darkness with open arms. All that used to be the source of my nightmares now is my joy, my salvation. The curse that makes me 'different' from others- normal wizards, is now what makes me strong. It fuels my anger and hatred, and it gives me vigor.

Sensibly, I am alone, and I take comfort in that fact. Others are afraid of me. I have started to thirst for the taste of human flesh, and because of this, I follow the Dark Lord, who continuously gains power. He has strength I will never know, even I understand that much. Even in his eyes, the eyes of society's last hope, I am discriminated against. It does not matter to me anymore, I am used to it. Whereas some, cowards, of my kind hide within themselves, and keep their curse a secret, I have broadcasted it, so that the very sight of me will strike fear in all those who posses knowledge of me. They are smart.

Those who are not… simply perish.


The copper taste of the blood of my last victim was fresh on my tongue. I could still feel the sensation of the man's raw flesh sinking beneath my teeth, and down my throat. I was hungry again, already, but I knew two meals in such a short time would slow me down, if I needed to make an escape of some kind.

As I walked through the small town, in a place that was somewhere near the border of France and Spain, I heard a light set of footsteps, running. Intense werewolf reflexes kicked in, and I whipped around, scanning the void area surrounding me. I saw nothing, but sure enough, something pounded into me, hitting me square in the crotch, and forcing me to stumble back a few steps. I glared down, ready to attack.

She was a girl, about five or six, and despite her ragged form, she had a type of beauty that's intensity strikes you the second you look at her, despite her youth. Her skin was radiant, and even in the dark, reflected even the smallest, slightest, most microscopic bit of light that penetrated the night. She was an earthbound star. Her hair was golden, and though it was filthy, it fell to her shoulders like flowers, wavy and glorious.

She pressed her face farther into me, griping my cloak with all her might. I growled low and deep within my throat. It rumbled through my body, but she didn't loosen her grip.

"VIENS! Aha!" A man came tearing around the corner, eyes aflame, anger extremely apparent. He glared to my middle, at the girl clutching me.

He took a few steps forward, sees me, and stops. "BonjourMonsieur…?"

I glared. "I don't speak French." I lied; able to understand the basics. I was in a bad mood already.

"Ah, oui," He then spoke in English with a thick French accent. "This girl… She ees a… witch…"

"A witch." I didn't speak as a question, but as a hollow statement that shows no interest in the comment. "Heh. And I suppose you would like to brule her?"

"Oui… Something… of zat sort…" Burning witches was long out of style, for hundreds of years. More like he wanted to rape her. She was obviously homeless. No one would care.

"You disgust me."

"Ah- pardon moi?"

Ripping the girl off me, I leapt at him in a second taking the man down before he could do anything to stop me. The man's raw flesh was appetizing, and I was unable to keep myself from devouring a few bits of him, then a few more. The smallest, slightest of touches graced the back of my thigh. I looked up.

"What?!" I snarled at the girl.

"Non…s'il vous plait…" She whispered meekly, taking her hand away and backing up.

"Heh. This bastard wanted to brulez vous… and you're stopping me?" She stared, looking confused. "Right. You don't speak English. Forget it, kid."

Wiping the blood off my face with the back of my hand, I started walking away from the gushing man, and that ragged little girl.


Three days later, I was getting ready to head back to London. I had been unsuccessful in locking in on my target, so wasn't entirely looking forward to going back. I was walking through the streets of France right before my scheduled apparition. The streets were lit with the midday sun, so instead of walking through the town square, I leaned against the wall in the shadow of a building, smoking a pipe. I could hear the sound of the radio inside the building that appeared to be a bakery. People walked by, selling flowers and trinkets, nothing interesting enough to linger on.

"Monsieur…!" A small voice called. I glanced up, from under my hat. The little girl, from the other night, was running towards me.

"Uh… oi."

"Dank…'oo pour zat… monsieur…" She whispered brokenly.

"Uh… sure… Got a meal out of it at least. Heh." Her confusion was intense, but I didn't bother to try translating into French.

"Right… well, here…" I took out a few French coins to give her, so she could get herself a meal, and dropped them into her hand while I passed. "Take care of yourself, ne?"

Only later, by the time I had gotten back and given my reports, did I realize I normally would have bitten the girl.


Fall came without even leaving a slimmer of hope for the girl. I knew what happened to the homeless children during the cold months, witch or not. The girl didn't even have a wand to help herself, if she was even a witch like the man had accused.

I continuously told myself I wished I had bitten her, to have given her some sort of strength, or a meal for myself at the bitter sweet least. Finally, the day came when I was sent back to the same area to assist the completion of the task that I consistently failed on. It symbolized to me the fact that because of my curse I would never be good enough to stand at the right hand of the Dark Lord, his mark upon my forearm.

It didn't matter. I had more self respect than those who completely gave themselves to him. I still had my own strength, and my own pleasure. His praise meant to me only that I could rise higher and in reality, that was neigh but another pleasure I allowed myself.

I hated following the orders of idiots though. That was the one thing that always would always irk me. I didn't care that I was one of the main sources of the Dark Lord's threats. I didn't care I was always an outcast. I had no desire to follow the orders of idiots. Lucius Malfoy was that idiot.

He was pompous. He was brainless. The one bright side of working with him was his perversion. He had a wife and a child by that point, and yet he insisted on attending whore house after whore house. I didn't mind that part. The man had good taste, and plenty of money. As one of his travel companion, I easily reaped the benefits.

Of course… mine always turned up dead the next morning.

One night, I took a break from the French sluts and prostitution, and walked the streets. Somehow, the girl from months ago was fresh on my mind, while the freezing air bit at my cheeks. I felt hungry, but too bloated and lazy from days of doing nothing but fucking to hunt. Lucius had less of an interest than I ever did, which made me consider time and time again that I should be complaining to the Dark Lord. But I didn't.

Familiar voices from a crowd of men up ahead on the street drifted towards me. This of course, I being a people person and all, drew me into the crowd. Malfoy's voice suddenly became clear.

"Everyone get the hell back!" He yelled at them, laughing. "I'm first."

This comment immediately caused an uproar of laughter and complaints from all the others- all Death Eaters that had come along.

"What's going on?" I asked someone, who seemed slightly less drunk than the others.

"Some bitch 'as walkin' around… We're all gunna-" I suddenly stopped listening as I caught sight of the object of everyone's attention. She was young. She was beautiful. And she was the little girl I had saved.

"MALFOY!" I roared before I knew what I was doing. I shoved my way to the center of the circle. The girl's already ragged clothes were half ripped from her body, half a small nipple exposed along with all of her thighs and legs. Her cheeks were overly red, and she obviously shivering from the cold. Tears were all over her face, almost frozen.

"Relax, Greyback, I know you want her when we were done so-"

"Shut the fuck up Malfoy!" I yelled again.

"The Dark Lord will not be pleased that-"

"If you tell a damn word of this to the Dark Lord, I'll tell your wife about what's been going on every night of this trip! GOT IT?! And the rest of you! Do you want to find out what happens when a werewolf bites you and it's not a full moon?! HUH?!"

Without another word, I grabbed the girl by the waist, picking her easily up off the dirty concrete and getting out of the center of attention, pushing many to the ground.

"You're a real prick Greyback!" Someone shouted.

"Fuck you, man!"

I turned around and snarled, wolf-like, eyes piercing holes in every one of them. They silenced themselves and walked away. I walked for about a mile, before finally feeling the tense body in my hands slouch. Glancing down, I saw her eyes closed, and her head completely red.

She was practically freezing, in late October air.

"Fuck…" I grunted and stepped into the first house I saw, putting the imperious curse on everyone in the house. I made the mother make some hot soup, and shoved the girl into the bed, rubbing the warm blanket all over her face and toes, trying to get the heat back into her face. After about five minutes, she seemed to get better, and slept without coughing or breathing heavily. I relaxed and slouched into the chair next to the bed, taking a tentative bite of the still steaming onion soup sitting next to me.

EhNo blood

I stood up and left the room, deciding to look for some raw meat in the kitchen. I descended the stairs, and walked through the door way, to see the muggle family, right where I had left them…


After my meal, I went through a little effort to clean up the mess all over the floor, but fell asleep halfway through splaying water everywhere. I didn't care if muggle authorities tried to find their murderer, it wasn't like they would be able to do anything, even if they did find me.

I don't know when the girl had woken up, but at some point I heard the shocked rush of breath. I woke up almost immediately, to see her staring around at the blood. My head cocked quickly, out the window. The sun was up, but only barely. I rolled forward out of the chair, the heels of my boots splashing in the blood.

"Quoi…?" She hadn't learned more English since I last saw her.

"Doesn't matter. Just some fucking muggles." I muttered, head aching a bit. As she took a step away from the blood, her eyes widened. I caught a small but provocative glimpse of her that reminded me of what happened last night.

"You- IDIOT!" I yelled suddenly, making her flinch. "Petit Salope Français- what were you doing?! You're a witch, shouldn't you fucking be able to defend yourself?!"

In my anger, I discarded the fact the men were Death Eaters and that even if she was a full grown, trained witch, she still wouldn't have stood a chance.

"You're so worthless! Twice now, I've saved you, you scrawny-piece-of-shit! You should be bloody dead by now!"

"Desole..." She whispered meekly. I wiped sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand, and stopped yelling to think clearly. She was still shivering in her ripped tee-shirt and naked legs.

"Let's… find you some clothes I guess… These muggles must have something that'll fit you…Come on, Petit Salope Français…"

She followed me back up the narrow stair case to the room she slept in, so we could riffle through the late children's clothes. Despite my attempts to dress her in something simple, and old, she immediately took the floral dress from the closet, and refused to wear anything but that.

"You live on the streets- you can't wear that!" I scolded her, annoyed. She shook her head back and forth erratically. I leaned back in the chair I sat in while she rushed into the bathroom to change. I really should have gotten back to my fellow Death Eaters. I shouldn't be playing dress-up with a five year old. I shouldn't have cared about them trying to molest the Petit Salope Français.

And I never would again. All I was doing was cleaning her up, and relaxing for a bit. I was just being selfish, and getting a free, quite large meal out of it.

She emerged from the bathroom quickly, doing a couple turns. I rolled my eyes and grabbed the pile of more conventional clothes I had made for her, shoving them haphazardly into a small duffle bag that the child shouldn't have a problem carrying.

"Let's go. Muggle's could show up here soon." There was no need for the girl to get caught up in my murders. She led the way down the stairs, and she paused in the kitchen, looking longingly at the muggle icebox. I grunted in allowance, and she tiptoed around the dried blood puddle and swung open the cold box. I heard a light tinkling of bottles and plates, before walking through the blood to look for alcohol.

Grabbing a few beers, I looked at what Petit Salope Français was doing. She was trying to reach for the cake on the top shelf. Such a child. I slid my hand under it and balanced it on my palm while I turned around and put it on the island counter in the center of the room. Petit Salope Français ran quickly around to the other side and crawled up into the chair. I poked the cake closer to her, and leaned against the wall while she enjoyed herself, drinking some of the weak muggle liquor. I drained the first bottle before popping the cap of the second off with my sharp teeth. I spit it on the floor where it mingled with gooey blood. Glaring at the uneaten delicacy for a moment before straightening up, I threw the second empty bottle against the floor. A bit of it broke off and hit my leg. I didn't even look down.

"I'm leaving," I told her angrily, taking a few steps away. Her face fell immediately, almost in horrible sadness. She looked on the verge of tears. For half a second I thought about leaving her to answer all the questions about why she was eating cake in the bloody kitchen of a family who had apparently been eaten, as well as why she was wearing their clothes. Something in me forced me to give a half-hearted, annoyed smile. "Come… come on…Viens…"

She jumped down immediately, grabbing her bag and running out the doorway in front of me. After we exited the house, I locked the door behind me magically.


By the time we had gotten back to the inn where I was staying, I discovered all the Death Eater's had disappeared from the city in the middle of the night. What had happened, I did not know. However, I did know that there were a large amount of owls in the sky. Something had definitely occurred last night.

"Come on, Petit Salope Français…" I muttered angrily as we ascended the stairs, myself three at a time, to the floor where I had been staying. Despite me being such a low class Death Eater, I was given my own room, just like Malfoy was. I was allowed this because I was a werewolf. And no one had any interest in sharing their room with a werewolf.

Immediately upon entering my room, I shoved open the window, to see if any owls were nearby. Sure enough, all across the sky line, large specks I knew to be owls carrying letters between witches and wizards.

"Accio owl…" I said quietly, after spotting one that seemed to be carrying a liquor bottle. The owl zoomed into my hand, and after tearing the items off of it, I shoved it back out the window, before it started nipping at me. The very second I shut the window behind it, it began to tap angrily against the window. I shut the blinds, and walked to the small wooden bureau.

I ignored the bottle for a moment and opened the short note. It was written in English, thankfully.

Dearest Mother,

I know you do not often leave your house lately, so I simply had to tell you the news!

He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named has been killed! He's gone, Mother, gone!

I write this quickly and ask you to come and visit tonight, because George insisted on having a celebratory party!

Hoping you are well in France,

Katie

"What…?" I murmured. This was why everyone had left in the middle of the night? The Dark Lord had been killed? There was no way. It wasn't possible. No one was capable of killing the Dark Lord.

I angrily picked up the bottle, ready to drink till I passed out, but as soon as I took a drink, I realized it was Butter Beer in a wine bottle, no doubt an attempt to stop the mother's drinking problem.

"Petit Salope Français!" I yelled, almost throwing the bottle at her before stopping myself and gently placing it in her hand.

"Ça va…?" She whispered, quiet as ever. She raised the bottle to her lips and poured a few drops down her throat, eyes glossing over immediately at the sensation.

I sat down in the chair next to the desk and slammed my head down a few times. I felt hungry again. Anger made me hungry. I felt like a vampire sometimes. A human-holic. I needed alcohol.

"Petit Salope Français…" I said, beckoning her closer with my fingers. She put the bottle on the floor and walked a little closer.

"Go…" I said slowly, motioning with my hands. "Buy… du vin… From the store…d'accord?"

"Oui…" She murmured, eyeing the money strangely.

"Petit Salope Français…" I said once more. I point to where I sit. "Je m'appelle, Fenrir. Comment tu t'appelle?"

She smiled. "F-Fleur."

I smiled. "Fleur, come back, OK?"

She nodded, somehow able to understand. "O…ok… Fenrir…"


"Fenrir!" Fleur yelled, as she emerged from the bathroom of the inn room the last time before we would depart. A couple times she had tried to comb my matted hair while I slept, or tie small ribbons on the ends. When I caught her, I shoved her off the bed and made her do some impossible chore, like clean the entire floor with the small toothbrush I bought her, or count how many strings there were on the carpet, in English.

When I didn't catch her, and would awake to find pink bows all over my head, I locked her in the bathroom. She screamed. I was used to the sound, and didn't really care. I usually took these chances to get a meal for myself, when she thought I was ignoring her and sleeping. For meals, I usually sent her out to buy food for herself, and I just picked at whatever sweet pastry she decided I would enjoy. The only time I actually enjoyed the meal was when she bought a meat pie, thinking it was a cherry pie. I got two pies that day.


Fleur and I traveled the country side, since I was basically out of work thanks to the destruction of the Dark Lord. For two weeks I took care of her, without thinking about what would happen in relevance to the rest of the world. I was an outlaw, and Fleur was a small child, that seemed to possess magic, though I could only guess.

One day, she had picked up my wand, which I had dropped by accident when stumbling drunkenly around the room. She touched it, and immediately the bottle flew from my hand, crashing to the floor beside me. She dropped it, as a bit of glass hit her leg, not enough to pierce her.

The full moon drew closer and closer. I was unable to deny the fact that Fleur was in danger, and could possibly die. I made a decision.

"Petit Salope Français…" I murmured to her, one night, while we shared a bed, because I no longer could afford to pay for a room with two. "I need to go away for a while…"

She popped her head up slightly, to look at me. "Why?"

In two weeks she had learned a fair amount of English, having only spoken to me. I strategically dodged her question. "It won't be for long, I promise. Just for two or three days. Deux jours…"

"D-d'accord…"


I went as far as possible in the short period I had before the full moon. It was strange, my insistence upon not putting Fleur in danger. It was unlike anything I had ever felt before. I wish I could say it was meaningless and pointless- something trivial to pass the time- but it wasn't. It was frightening, and had complete control over me.

The full moon came and went. I may have bitten someone. I did not restrain myself, so I had no way of knowing who I may have attacked, if I had attacked anyone at all.

I then spent 24 hours debating with myself what I should do on my return to Fleur, if I indeed did return. In the end, the day turned to days, and I still had not reached a conclusion within myself. But it couldn't wait any longer. Fleur had no way to fend for herself, and I had been gone more than a week.

It took me only a day to return, even without apparating or using floo power, as I felt I could not trust it after the death of the Dark Lord. I was in a rush- the biggest of my life, I must admit- to return to the inn.

As I opened the door, two thoughts crossed my mind.

The first- was that she'd be dead. Fleur, a young, fragile child had gone without care for a week. She could have starved. She could have gotten sick. She could have been raped and killed. She had no way to survive on her own, and I, her guardian (somewhat) had disappeared for an entire week, not the two or three days I had promised.

The second thought was that she'd be gone. They were ever dark times, as always, when beautiful little girls went for a few extra pennies. She could have left on her own. That wouldn't have surprised me in the least. That was what I would have done. I wouldn't have even waited an hour after my guardian had left. I would have robbed the place and left, not giving a shit about the person that had 'promised' to come back.

As I opened the door, both of those thoughts disappeared immediately. She ran towards me, face glowing with happiness, and gripped her arms around my legs, similar to the way she had when we first met, and she clung to me to save her life. But this time, she looked up at me, hair flowing, eyes bright.

My heart pounded like it never had before. My blood rushed. I felt pang after pang of emotion and before I could stop myself, I became aroused.

Her smile turned to confusion as she took a small step back to glance down below my waist. I shook my head back and forth, kneeling down in front of her before she could examine any further, and make matters any worse.

"I'm sorry I'm late…" I whispered lowly in her ear, forcing my body into silent submission. "Were you alright while I was gone?"

"Yes…" She replied. "J'ai faim."

I stared at her a moment while I tried to sort out my thoughts as well as my French. Her words finally hit me. "Oh- right. L-let me go clean myself up and then we'll go find something to eat."

"D'accord!" She exclaimed, rushing off to put on her dress, despite how cold it was outside. I'd take care of that later. As soon as she turned away, I rushed into the bathroom.

"Fuck…" I mutter under my breath as I relieved myself as quickly as possible in a disgusting bathroom. That was not ok. "FUCK."

She was six. Maybe younger. I was practically her father. There was no way I thought that about her. It was just me going without sex for too long. Of course, the first female- if she even was that yet- I saw turned me on.

That's right. Fleur's smiling face… had nothing to do with it.


We finally left France, and returned to England after I had known Fleur for an entire month. Fleur didn't seem worried, but I hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary with her since I had returned from my full moon excursion. She had obtained some bulk, and no longer looked as fragile as she had when I first met her. I also had bought some new clothes for her, because the stolen ones had begun to rip in various places.

When we arrived to Southern England, by apparation, it was snowing. Fleur was overly excited and proceeded to jump around, sticking her tongue out to catch the flakes. My annoyance wore off quickly, as I had trained myself, and I squatted down slowly, so she wouldn't notice. My bare fingers ignored the stinging cold as carefully, I formed a snowball.

"Oi! Petit Salope Français!" I shouted. She turned, giggling. She was cut short as I lightly tossed the snow into her face.

She squeaked and ran off. I laughed, quickly forming another in my hands to throw, not really paying attention to anything but Fleur.

"Fenrir Greyback?" A voice asked suddenly. I dropped the half-molded snow so I could turn to face the visitor. I pulled my wand from my pocket quickly.

"Expelliarmus!" My wand flung from my hand. I jumped backwards, groping around blindly for it as my wrists were bound magically, and I was forced to my knees, in the snow.

"You are under arrest for the accusation of Dark Arts, murder, and being a Death Eater."


They carted me off to a prison cell in London before I could do anything to take care of Fleur. I received notice of the trial that I would go through in three days. For those three days, I sat silently in the jail cell, even in the presence of the other's bickering and insults they threw at me through the bars. I said nothing. Worry plagued my mind- for Fleur, and I had none for myself. I didn't even consider what my trial would be like, and if I should be doing something to prepare for it.

Finally the day came.

"Mr. Greyback…" The leader of the court announced. He was fat and rich, with a stupid accent from some Eastern European country. Just looking at him pissed me off. "You have been accused of murder by cannibalism as well as numerous occasions of performing the Dark Arts. Furthermore, we have ten witches and wizards witnessing to you being in league with the followers of the Dark Lord. How do you plea?"

"Not guilty…" My throat rasped when I spoke, from both not having a proper meal for so long, as well as not talking for three days.

The court moved on to random formalities that bored the living day out of me. I zoned off, scanning the room for any sign of Fleur. I saw nothing.

"We will now move on to the state Mr. Greyback was in upon his capture. He was found in Southern England, and had apparated from an area in Eastern France, near the Alps. We found him from tracking the Apparation Lines as well as the fireplaces. We had been searching for him for a little less than two months, since the disappearance of the Dark Lord."

Here it comes… My devious mind whispered to me. They're going to talk about Fleur now. They're going to accuse you of rape. You practically did anyways. Rape a child.

"He was found in the presence of a young girl around the age of six. When we tried to speak with her, we realized she was French, though she did know a strangely large amount of English. We had a few French speaking Ministry of Magic employees interview her and found that her name is Fleur, but she was unable to present a surname to the officials. Mr. Greyback is not her father, nor did he bite her. When asked about her parents, she became confused and unable to respond. We are unable to tell if Mr. Greyback abused her sexually or physically, if at all, but-"

"I didn't," I said quickly, though this only enhanced the looks of disgust I was getting from the court.

"Mr. Greyback, if you would please remain silent until the court is finished presenting the information… Moving on… We were unable to tell if she was abused, but her mental state seemed to be normal for a girl of her age, so abuse seems at this point unlikely, unless it is currently being hid magically. Upon further investigation, we discovered that the girl is in fact a witch. The ministry is currently searching to see if the girls family is alive or not. It is possible that Fenrir also massacred Ms. Fleur's family."

He looked around at the court for a moment to see if they had anything else to say, before turning to me.

"What of this information is true, Mr. Greyback?"

Trying to relax and keep the anger out of my voice, I responded as quietly as possible. "I did not abuse her sexually or physically. I did not kidnap her and kill her family. I know nothing of the girl's family."

"How, then, did you come across her?"

"I found her in France. She was obviously an orphan, and I took pity." A couple people around the room scoffed loudly.

"How long have you been with her?"

"Almost two months."

"Since the fall of the Dark Lord then?" I noticed his faint smirk as her thought her had me in a corner.

"I wouldn't know…" I murmured. "When did he fall?"

"The night of October 31."

"Hm… That sounds about right."

"What- may I ask- were you doing in France?"

"Vacationing. When you are as I am…" I paused to allow them to remember that I was a werewolf. "Finding work becomes immensely difficult and you find yourself with a large amount of free time."

I smiled politely, trying my best not to bare my fangs. He nodded slightly, looking back at his papers. They couldn't convict me on the basis of Fleur. I did nothing to her. I saved her life. "How is she?"

"Very well. We'll come back to the topic of Ms. Fleur then," He completely ignored my question about how Fleur was. "Is it true that you are a werewolf?"

"Yes."

"Is it also true that you have purposefully devoured human beings on the nights of full moons?"

"I don't believe so, but it's possible, considering I have no recollection of when I am transformed. I do my best to make sure I am isolated."

"Is it true that you have attacked and devoured humans when it was not the full moon?" Shit. What if Fleur told them about me eating people?

"Of course not! That's horrible!" I do my best not to laugh, and believe I succeed. I also use occlumensy while I speak at this point."

"Hmph. Very well. Is it true that you are a Death Eater?"

"No." That wasn't even a lie. The Dark Lord would never allow me into his ranks. I pulled my left sleeve up, to show my bare forearm. "I have no Dark Mark."

"But you have worked in league with Death Eaters before?"

"No. Never. But I've heard rumors from other… more desperate werewolves. I've heard they're even in the ministry of magic…" I quickly glanced at a few people I knew to be Death Eaters.

"We have discovered them already and they are in Askaban."

"Really? That's lucky. I'd hate to have a corrupt system of law."

"Indeed."

In the end, I got lucky and there wasn't enough information to convict me of anything but being a werewolf, which wasn't illegal. I don't know if some of the court thought I was a good person for taking care of Fleur, or they were just scared for their lives and their families' lives, but it worked. I was free.

For now.

But that later. More importantly, I had to figure out where Fleur was.

"Wait-" I shouted as the trial ended and I was told I was free to go. "Where can I find Fleur?"

"Oh, you'll have to wait and see if we can find her family. Come back in a few days and you can try to adopt her. But… you may be considered a danger to her… You being a werewolf and all."

Fuck. Fuck! FUCK!

I'd lost Fleur.


Unable to forgive myself, I put myself into seclusion for a month. Not even leaving to hunt, I ate moldy bread for every meal. I became sick, and didn't even get out of bed. The abandoned house I slept in had no warmth, and it was January.

I hated myself then more than I had my entire life, and I didn't even know why. Fleur was going to find her parents, and even if she didn't, she was going to find a nice wizard family that would take care of her. They'd probably be rich. Any rich family looking for a kid would be all over her. She was beautiful, adorable- and as much as it pained me to say it the kid was a genius for her age. She did math sometimes and she could read. I couldn't read till I was ten. She was going to get the better side of life. No more of the nasty, traveling life style I provided her. Hell- I envied her.

I sighed deeply in the bed I laid. Not only was the one thing that continually got me adequate meals destroyed (the Dark Lord)… But I had lost the one person I cared about to a better life. She'd probably already forgotten about me.

But there was no way I could leave it at that. I had to find her. Not to take her- no I wouldn't do that. I just had to know where she was, that she was safe, she wasn't in danger… If I wasn't pleased with her situation I would take her. If not; end of story. No reason to pursue something that fixed itself.


I waited another week before tracking down Lucius Malfoy. I needed a connection in the Ministry and he was just the sucker for the job.

I showed up at his mansion three days before the full moon. It was winter but my body temperature was all I ever needed to keep me warm. Though thinking about it a certain inedible-six-year-old would have been welcome.

I knocked on the door just as it began to snow. A house elf opened the door.

"Hello!" It squeaked stupidly. "Are you here to see Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy?"

"Yes. Could you please let me in?"

"I'll go get him if you would please wait he-"

I gave off a strange sound that was a mix between a cough and a growl- plus a bit of a laugh. The elf jumped away from the door leaving just enough room for me to slip inside.

"Sorry it's a little chilly outside. I'll just find him myself…"

"No sir! I have orders from the master to not-"

Just then a woman entered the entrance hall with a tiny baby in her arms, sending the elf to his or her knees.

"A friend of Lucius…?" She asked no one in particular.

"You must be Mrs. Malfoy!" I greeted loudly. I laughed at her in my head. So this was the poor bitch married to Malfoy.

"And you are?" She asked coldly.

"Fenrir Greyback," I replied, noting the slight flinch she gave off. "But I doubt your husband has mentioned me."

"He… may have once… or twice…"

"Narcissa who is…" Malfoy asked as he walked into the room. He saw me and immediately glared. I smirked a little, remembering our last meeting hadn't been too friendly.

"Malfoy- there you are," I greeted walking away from his little wife and child. "Haven't seen you since France. Hoping you could do me a bit of a favor… Can we go somewhere else? I assume you have a study?"

"Oh… Yes… Of course I do…" He gave a nod to his wife who seemed to have backed away from me a bit as soon as I turned my back. I smiled at her as I followed Malfoy out of the room. "This way…"

We arrived at his study and he showed me a chair on the other side of his desk to sit.

"Something to drink…?" He asked coldly.

"Firewhisky."

"Of course…" After a moment her handed me a drink and looked at me skeptically.

"Nice family you have…" I downed the small cup he had provided me and pushed it towards him so he could poor me another.

"Are you implying something, Greyback?" He snarled.

"Nothing really…" I felt a little bloodthirsty at the coming of the full moon, but restrained myself. "I was hoping you could look into something for me."

"And what… Could I possibly… do for you?" His voice was a hiss, as he spilled a bit of my new drink on his desk while he pushed it to me. I swallowed half of it before speaking again.

"There is a girl that is currently in the custody of the Ministry of Magic- or was until recently I would like you to track down. Her name is Fleur."

He was obviously startled by my strange request.

"You were not present at my trial but I assume you heard of it?"

"Yes… Small bits…"

"Then you heard about the girl that was with me. And before you ask- yes that was the girl you and those other bastards almost raped in France the night of the fall of the Dark Lord."

He slowly ran his hand threw his hair. I laughed.

"Heh. You don't have to act so shocked and disturbed."

"Forgive me, but was what you said in the trial true?"

My eyes narrowed. "Which. Part."

"Did you…"

"Jealous? Wanted the little girl for yourself?"

"Don't assume such things-"

"I'll put it this way. I'm not threatening your family this time… because of the circumstances… But if you refuse to find out where Fleur is right now your cute little wife will not only find out about how you tried to rape an innocent little girl… but also how many whores you fucked every night on that trip and every other trip you've been on."

His silence made me angrier and I crushed the glass I still held on the table. He stood up quickly and turned away to beckon to the house elf in the corner to clean it up.

"Very well. I will investigate what happened to this girl. The full moon is soon, when will you return?"

"I'll await the information for tomorrow night."

"I can't-"

"I can't control myself as a werewolf, Lucius. I want to know now. I'll be back tomorrow."


Just as I had told him, I returned the next night to collect the information I had asked for. Just as I had assumed, Fleur had been returned to her family in France, in the suburbs of Paris. She had a family that wasn't me. How strange, that she had never once asked to go home or mentioned wanting her mommy. All she ever wanted to do was play with me.

Her family was also rich and made up almost completely of pureblood witches and wizards. Furthermore she was the granddaughter of a veela. That explained quite a few things. That type of beauty in a child was unnatural for a human.

Malfoy also was kind enough to provide me with the address.

I waited for the full moon to pass before heading back to France for what would likely be the last time.


I arrived at Fleur's home in February. Ironically, it was the eve of Valentine's Day. The moon was descending back into darkness and the Delacour Manor glowed into the late hours. Nevertheless, I was able to find Fleur's bedroom. What I was doing, I had no idea. I entered the room silently. It was like any child's room, with little picture books in French littered around the room and grand large windows that covered half the walls. Fleur had a huge bed to herself. No sharing with a creepy old murderer.

She was sleeping, of course. It was late night, and she probably had school the next day. I could hear her parents entertaining guests, speaking loudly from the hallway, but inside the room I could hear nothing.

I slowly walked over to her bed, and got on my knees next to her bed, and gazed down at her. It was Fleur. To think I had gotten so upset over being separated from the Petit Salope Français… Unbelievable. She was nothing special. Sure she was overly beautiful, but to a killer like me that meant nothing.

If she remained with me any longer than she had… she'd be dead.

I was so lost in thought I didn't notice the change in her breathing as she began to take in less and less. Her eyelids twitched open and she slowly raised herself up, looking at me.

Shit. I moved away from the bed lightning fast, so that she was unable to make sure it was me. I hid in the darkness, away from the moonlight that covered her.

Her scream began instantly, and my gut clenched, as if to destroy itself. I wanted to die. I wanted her to understand I wouldn't hurt her. I wanted her to know how much I-

The voices and footsteps came much too quickly. The parents were obviously overly worried about their daughter after being separated from them for so long. I left the room to the cold outside, where only my hating, thumping heart could keep me safe and warm from Fleur's screams of anguish inside her bedroom.

Her parents came rushing in moments after her screams began, and only seconds after I had left the room. It was a short enough time for them to realize someone had been there. It wasn't just their daughter's nightmares. I apparated away.


Eight years passed. Nothing ever really changed. It was as if she was still there, never having left me. An angel that shadowed my every move, small and cherubic.

I was violent as ever. The number of deaths at my hands neither increased nor decreased. It was always the same hunt, always the same victims. And just as I had promised myself I did not pursue Fleur in any way. I left her alone, to grow up as she was, without ever having to think of me again.

But I had to let her know I was here. Somehow I was unable to keep myself from thinking about her. No matter many how many people I killed, how many women I had… She was always there. Always present.

So in the spring of 1992, I sent Fleur a letter. I sent it to her school, knowing she was there, and also not wanting to trouble her family, who certainly would open the mysterious letter. I was able to easily discover the school she attended- Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, a co-ed school renowned for being unplottable. So there was no way I could go there myself. However, it would be easy enough for a letter to make its way to her.

Fleur Delacour

We met many years ago, and you may have been told of our meeting. Of that I am not sure.

We met in the city of Bayonne, in Southern France, in 1983.

Certain circumstances led us to be together for a short period of time.

I do not know if you know who I am, or if you even remember me.

But I am sure if you do, then you would like to know I am still out there.

You'd probably also like to know my name.

(Unless you already know it.)

But I have no wish to frighten you needlessly, so I will not tell you it.

You probably are wondering about the point of this letter if I won't tell you my name or location.

Honestly as I right this letter I have no idea either.

Just felt like I needed to say something.

That's all.

Goodbye.

About two days after sending the letter I started beating myself up over it. She probably thought the sender was a stalker, or a rapist… or a murderer… Shit… she was right.

Being nervous made me angry and being angry made me hungry.

Time for dinner.


Spring ended and summer came, with no response, and no more reason to worry about the Fleur-situation. I was in London again. Relaxing. Hunting. Taking advantage of those who feared me. I didn't need a reason.

I had heard rumors, read newspapers, stories about Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. The survivor of the Dark Lord. He had broken into the Chamber of Secrets in Hogwarts that year. I'd heard rumors that Malfoy was involved from some Death Eaters I had contact with still. But it didn't really matter. And danger at this point was nothing but a shadow of what there used to be. It was meaningless, and unimportant. The Dark Lord was dead and there was nothing to be done about it. All the idiots locked up in Askaban were fucking retards as far as I was concerned. They were worth shit- trash. Why strain yourself for a, literally, dead cause?

London was dull as ever. Diagon Alley as well as Knockturn Alley were boring, minus the pubs. I stayed in a room above a bar that lay discreetly between two larger ones. Nothing grand, nothing clean. Et cetera.

One day, when I was heading out, about to travel to another part of England, getting ready to skip out on the bill, I opened the door to see a figure- probably a women, in a shall, looking around the hallway suspiciously. I grunted to show my presence- always a good idea around the drunk and senile.

She turned around quickly and I saw her face.

She was beautiful. So beautiful. I couldn't describe it in words. It was unnatural. Was it legal?

"Ees it… you?" She whispered. "Fenrir?"

"F-Fleur?" I replied, slowly.

"FENRIR!" She screamed, rushing into my chest. It had been eight years and she still was so much smaller than me.

She laughed happily. Even her voice was beautiful. She was the type of girl men obsessed over. She only was supposed to exist in dreams.

"'Ow 'ave you been?" She asked excitedly.

"Uh… good…?"

"Zat's vonderfull!" She said, taking a step away from me. "You look ze very same, Fenrir!"

"You look… so different…" She smiled happily, glad for the compliment. "H-how did you find me?"

"You're lettre! I vas able to track it!" She jumped up and down, obviously proud of herself.

Fuck, I knew that was a bad idea… Or was it? Wasn't this what I had wanted since our seperation? Since the trial eight years ago when I lost her? To think if that had never happened… I'd have this luscious beauty all to myself… I slapped myself mentally.

"Why?" I asked. I almost flinched at the stupidity of the question. I sounded like an idiot. Wait- why did I care if I sounded like an idiot? She had come all the way from France to see the psycho werewolf she had been with for not even two months- and eight years ago at that. She was the idiot. I could rape her, kill her, eat her… All three… Cue mental slap number two.

"Because… I vanted to see you!"

"Oh… Ok…"

She plopped down on the bed, and sat cross legged. Though her body had changed, she still acted the same as far as I could tell.

"All zeese 'ears I 'ave dreamed of meeting ze man that saved me when I was a child- twice! I could remember you, you know!"

"I didn't think I left that much of an impression…"

She giggled. Nostaliga swept over me and I had an intense feeling to throw a snow ball at her, where we had left off, eight years ago.

"And so I 'ave told my family that I will be spending ze summer on my own in England!"

...Oh! There's the catch.


I didn't have the heart to tell Fleur to go home. I wasn't entirely sure what she knew about me at this point, but either way, I'd wanted to see her for years. She'd finally shown up wanting to spend the entire summer with me and honestly there was nothing I'd wanted more.

Entertaining a fifteen year old proved to be harder than I thought however. The normal pastimes I would partake in with someone the same age as me- drinking, gambling, killing- didn't apply to a fifteen year old girl. Especially the last one. Furthermore, I didn't want to kill with her around, even though I had many times before when she was a child.

"So…What exactly do you do for fun?" I finally asked, making no progress within the barriers of my mind.

"Hm… I don't know. Oh, you don't 'ave to worry about entertaining me. I can take care of myself. If I get bored I can just go walk around and entertain myself.

Out of nowhere, my parenting instincts that shouldn't technically exist kicked in. "I don't think so. This is London, not you're little country summer house."

"I am a witch. Eet will be fine."

"Pfft. You're fifteen."

"I will be of age een deux years!"

"Knowing you, you won't even be ready then!"

"I am ze best in my school!" She yelled, offended deeply.

"So? You think you're little French boarding school will prepare you for the world, Petit Salope Franç-?"

I started laughing before I could stop myself, and she quickly followed. She sent a fake glare my way.

"I know vat that means now!"


We ended up just traveling around for the summer, with nothing better to do. Me being unemployed and her being on vacation, we didn't really have any inclinations to accomplish anything. She had a large amount of money from her family, enough to easily support both of us comfortably, probably for a year. We'd sleep in during morning, eat a light breakfast, travel a bit, and then eat a dinner privately in the room of whatever inn we were staying in. I was obviously not her father so it was better not to stay in one place for too long.

We mostly talked about her life since she was six- her school life, her family, and her friends. She was an adept young women with quite the mind in her head. She was the top of her class, just as she had claimed, and her prestigious family only made matters better for her.

Sometimes someone would recognize me and freak out. Fleur turned her head strangely always at the right moment so she was unable to see the mothers screaming and pulling their children to the other side of the street from me. I suspected she did this on purpose, but there was no way to be sure. We still hadn't had the talk about what I was, or what'd I'd done. I didn't know how much of either she knew.

Furthermore, the silences that lasted between us grew longer and longer. On some nights, dinner would pass awkwardly without a single word being spoken. It was strange how one moment we could be in an interesting conversation, both us deeply involved, and the next both self-consciously quiet.

It made me wonder what she was thinking.

One night there was an awkward silence between us at dinner.

"Can… I tell you something, Fenrir?" Fleur asked suddenly, breaking the silence that had ensued for almost an hour.

"I guess so."

"My first memories… Are of you…"

"What? Why? People can remember things before they're six, can't they?" I was bitten before I was six, and I could remember it perfectly.

"I don't really know. Everyone told me ze family I went to vas my family, and zey all could remember me, but somehow I couldn't remember zem. I don't know if I 'it my head and it made me forget… but I don't remember anything before I met you."

I paused, trying to put everything in order. Something hit me suddenly. "F-Fleur, listen to me! I didn't take your memories! I swear! I just saved you from an attacker, once, and when I visited the same city later you turned up again! That's all that happened!"

"Oh! Non, non, non! I do not think zat at all! You 'ave misunderstood me!"

I breathed out, relieved. "Ok…Good…"

The awkward silence returned then, for a short moment.

"Ze reason… I told you vas because I vanted you to know… 'ow important you are… to me…"

I slowly looked up from my food to gaze at her. What was I supposed to say to that? There was no proper response. It wasn't like she was confessing her love to me or anything.

"You... are really important to me too, Fleur." With that, I stood up and place some of the food into the bathroom sink to be cleaned by either Fleur or I later, depending on whose turn it was, then crawled into one of the two beds in the room we were sharing, and turned away from the table where Fleur still silently sat.

A bit of time passed then, as Fleur moved into the bathroom. I heard the running water as she cleaned up our dinner, then reentered the room. I closed my eyes, and waited for her to blow out the candles and climb into her own bed.

Instead, the other side of my bed sunk and squeaked as she crawled in beside me.

I rolled over and stared at her. She was only in a shirt, no pants. She slowly shifted her gaze from the ceiling to me.

"Fenrir…" She murmured. "Kees me…"

Hesitantly, I obeyed and lowered my head to hers, pressing my lips to her forehead, despite the fact I knew that was not what she wanted.

I raised my head back up, and couldn't stop my eyes from trailing down her body. I felt the familiar sensation, and this time I was able to pinpoint the reason easily. I kissed her once more, this time on the lips.

Once I removed my head from hers once more, she spoke again.

"I remember ze time you left me at zat inn for over a week… It was for ze full moon… right?"

"Yes."

"And… when you returned… And I hugged you… You wanted me, correct?"

My voice dropped three octaves. "Yeah…"

How could she remember something that was so insignificant from so long ago?

She placed one hand at the back of my neck and one on my scrotum, which was already hard.

"Do you want me now?"

I considered everything that had happened, and how much I obviously wanted her, and always had. I considered how she was fifteen and how I was old enough to be her father, and over the course of our relationship that was all I had ever been. Yet her sudden advances didn't come entirely as a surprise to me. And my body made it obvious what I wanted.

"No. I don't." Her eyes widened at my words.

"D-don't lie to me. I can see- and feel- that you do."

"You're confused," I told her stoically. "This isn't a reaction to you. This is a reaction to an almost naked whore lying under me."

Her bottom lip trembled for a moment, and her eyes glossed over. Deep inside my gut I regretted my harsh words already, even before they left my mouth I had regretted them, but it was the only thing I could do. She couldn't be with me. No matter how much it hurt me to be away from her, being with me would destroy her.

"B-but…" She whispered. "Y-you… love me… don't you?"

"No. I don't love you, Fleur."

"V-vell… I can make you love me! All men love me! I am beautiful!"

"You're not. I don't know who told you that, but it was a lie."

She slapped me. I didn't even flinch.

"Why would you spend so much time avec moi, then?!"

"How should I know? You're the one that randomly showed up on my doorstep a month ago uninvited, and expected me to take care of you all summer."

"NON! YOU LIE!" She slapped me again, and rose up on her knees. Her hot, angry touch burned me from the inside out. My breath caught barely, but she was in too much of a distress to notice. "LOOK AT ME! TOUCH ME!"

I looked away, disgusted. "No." My mind lingered incessantly.

She ground into me, straddling me on the bed. Her fingers gripped my pants.

"YOU ARE ZE ONLY ONE I VANT!"

I sighed, angry with myself already, and I punched her. She flew backward, hitting the wood floor in front of the bed. My fist burned. I wanted to punch myself a thousand times harder.

"W-why did you take care of me… if… you didn't… care about me…?"

I snorted. "Honey. I'm a werewolf. I was growing a meal." I licked my lips enthusiastically. My heart pounded, trying to kill me. I wished it would

She stood up slowly and put on her clothes, equally slowly. When she was done, she looked back at me.

"I love you."

I rolled my eyes. "You don't even know me."

"I know you enough to know I love you."

"Well, I know you enough to know that you're a winey bitch that gets turned on by being taken care of."

She stood there silently. The only thing I could do was stare back emptily. I was already dead inside.

She stood up and walked from the room, not bothering to pick up the rest of her belongings. I knew she wouldn't be back for them.

More than when she was forcibly separated from me, more that being apart from her…pushing her away killed me.


Two more years passed. In the summer, some Death Eaters attacked some civilians at the Quidditch World Cup. I wasn't a part of them, but heard about it from some of the Death Eaters themselves. I found myself wishing I was among them. It'd been a while since I got a large amount of fresh flesh, as I'd been keeping low since my trial.

I saw in the Daily Prophet, an article by Reeta Skeeter, whose idiotic articles made me snicker. It was about the Goblet of Fire, and it's participants for the competition that would take place at Hogwarts this year.

Never in my life have I been so scared, as I was while reading that article. Reeta Skeeter's stupidity didn't even tone down the shock pulsing through me. I sprinted down the stairs of the room I was currently staying in and onto the street, preparing myself to apparate to Hogshead.

I came to my senses halfway through apparating.

Fleur… could take care of herself. She was good. She was strong. She didn't need someone like me watching over her every move. Despite her outward fragility, despite her inner sensitivity, she was capable of so much more than I gave her credit for.

No matter what came at her she would be able to handle it.


Sure enough the first two tasks passed without problem. I put the imperius charm on a couple students to watch the competition for me. The last task, I knew, would be the hardest.

I attended it myself.


In the disguise of an old woman that could easily pass for someone's grandmother, I was able to slip into the stands facing the maze that would be the last task. It was not like the first task, where I could have easily dove into the arena between Fleur and the dragon she battled against.

But now, I could do nothing, as Fleur disappeared behind the moving hedges into the dark, eerie place behind.

It was doing nothing for my nerves.

Halfway through the task, Fleur was pulled from the maze after another contestant had shot up red sparks because she was in danger. I stood up the moment she appeared, and for a second, as Fleur shot a gaze up at me, I realized she recognized me, despite my intricate disguise. Instead of sitting back down, I slowly walked from my seat where I had been as far away from her as possible, and left the stadium. I felt her eyes on my back as I left.


Later, I found out that the cup, placed hidden in the center of the maze was a portkey, placed by a Death Eater somehow busted out of Askaban and placed in Hogwarts. A student had died. The idea that Fleur could have somehow gotten to the goblet before Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory sent me into shock. It was all I could do just to keep my mind completely away from Fleur, and I was hyperventilating on a regular basis on whether or not she could have died during a competition months ago.

Furthermore, the Dark Lord had returned.

I was called back into his ranks three weeks after his return. Once again, I was never given a Dark Mark, it was never even mentioned. I didn't want one anyways. Not having one had saved me more than once. I had the freedom to do whatever I wanted, and there was no reason to give that up.

For a full year, the Dark Lord was able to conceal himself, to the point the general population believed it was rubbish, the rumors of his return. The only ones who still believed it were Harry Potter and Dumbledore, both of whom had lost all merit.

As time continued to pass, the number of victims I was allowed rose. There were times that I no longer even had to eat normal food, as I was always quenched by the human flesh from the night before. The world became a dark place again, and it was nostalgic, the amount of fear that could be seen in the common wizards face on the street.

Finally, the fact the Dark Lord had indeed returned came into the open, but by then it was too late. There was nothing to be done.


I received a letter from Fleur one day. How she was able to track me down, I was never sure.

Fenrir,

I'm getting married. I know that I should not be writing to you, because it is dangerous for myself as well as my friends, but as my dearest friend, I wanted you to know. I ask that you do not attend the ceremony, not even in disguise. I told you that I loved you when we last met, but I know you will never love me.

Au Revoir,

Petit Salope Français

I was never able to respond to that letter.


Like any stereotypical father and/or ex-boyfriend I took the liberty of investigating Fleur's fiancée. I had no plans to do anything, after all, I had made my choice and had every intention to stick with him. My investigation was nothing but a matter of personal interest and nothing more. I wasn't going to track the guy down and attack him. I wouldn't do that- not because it went against morals, because it definitely was in my range of morals- but because it would get in the way of Fleur's happiness, which I wanted more than anything.

The Fenrir Fleur probably thought I was would destroy her fiancée. Bill Weasley wouldn't live a moment after my receiving of the letter. And she was probably right about who I was. But she didn't know that when she was involved I changed.

So Bill Weasly, the red head, who's younger brother was in cahoots with the Harry Potter, would live.


Fall and winter passed again. Popular places became empty.

I spent my time underground, with other werewolves, recruiting. It wasn't hard to convince someone who already hurt so much to kill those who made it hurt in the first place. The wizards on the surface would regret ever becoming the enemy of the werewolves. I no longer was the only werewolf that feasted on the flesh of humans apart from the full moon. I had a band of twenty or thirty- that I knew of- that would leave the place they had confined themselves, to kill in the night.

As time passed, and the Dark Lord's plans unraveled, I was called to Hogwarts to fight. Dumbledore would die. And we would be there.

We arrived in the dead of night, through a closet Malfoy's son had somehow been able to prepare. We made it into Hogwarts, and met with the Order of the Phoenix.

There was a man, among the crowd that caught my eye. He had red hair, and he was tall.

Bill Weasly.

In that moment, there was nothing. There was no Fleur. There was no Dark Lord. There was no good side, no bad side, there weren't even sides. There was only me… and Bill Weasly. Only him, hardly arms distance away. Only him, his flesh below my fingers, my teeth. Only him, the man I wanted to suffer for the rest of his life so he could know how much I suffered- how much I wanted to be him. Fleur would not have told the man, he would never know why I would curse him in that moment. He would never understand.


"Fenrir," She said, as expected. The fact she had come was expected as well. The fight was over. Dumbledore was dead. Harry Potter lived, as we were instructed to leave him. We had won.

But I could never win.

"Fleur." I stood up slowly, and turned to face her. Her flesh was dirtied, but all in all she was still beautiful. As always. I extended my arm towards her so she could touch me, like I knew she wanted to. She took my hand and came closer, but as soon as she could reach she slapped me.

This was also expected. At the sting, I closed my eyes and released her hand so I could turn away and leave.

"W-wait… Fenrir… Don't… go…"

"You should be taking care of your fiancée. He needs you."

"Why…you… You knew…?"

"I got your letter."

"You knew that… Was… 'im?"

"I did."

"Z-zen why… Why would you…" She fell to her knees. I turned around again, to look at her standing below me.

"I was doing my job. Be glad I didn't kill him. I did that for you."

"Why… why would you do anything pour mo-me…?" She whimpered, crying now.

"Don't take it to heart too much. He got lucky. You all did. It's only a matter of time before you're all dead." I paused. "You should get out now."

"I von't leave him. I love him. I love all of zem."

I snickered cruelly. "You chose the wrong people to love."

"I… 'ave a tendency… to do zat… correct?"

"Yeah… yeah you do." She laughed a little bit. Not enough to lighten the conversation. Not even close.

I sighed and sat on the ground. "Come 'ere…"

She crawled into my lap. Nostalgia swept over me and I was sure her too. When she was young we sat like that often. I was unable to contain myself this time, despite how much I understood the problems it would cause.

I kissed her neck and allowed her to turn in my lap partially. My arms looped around her waist, while hers went around my neck. She pressed her lips into mine and let her hands pull through my dirty hair. She breathed in. A growl rumbled deep in my throat.

"Your boyfriend is nursing himself back to health on his own and you're seducing his attacker."

She pushed away from me and rubbed her narrowed, tired eyes with her palms, looking away from me.

"Y-you started… it…" She cried quietly. I placed my hand on the top of her head, smearing a bit of blood on her shimmering hair.

"Look baby… I'm a werewolf… And other than that I'm a Death Eater. We're fighting for opposite sides."

"Z-zat's because you rejected me…"

"With good reason. I was a cannibal then and I am now."

"You wouldn't kill me."

"No. I wouldn't. But I also won't love you. It's not that black and white."

"I 'ould say zat…"

"In the end… One side is going to win. And the other side will be destroyed. One of us isn't going to survive this war. I don't know which one, but one won't. There's no way around that."

"Why? Why did you have to choose him? 'Ee ees evil!"

I shrug. "Can't say I don't agree. But what does that make me?"

"You… are not…evil…"

"Fleur… I kill people because I like the taste. I'm a fucking cannibal. That's pretty evil. Maybe I haven't killed as many as the Dark Lord but that doesn't change the things I've done."

"Zere… really is no way… around it…" She whispered.

"There is not."

"Our lives… passed 'oo fast. We didn't 'ave enough time…"

I remained silent. My heart panged, and electricity shot through me painfully. This was it.

The final goodbye.

I had to speak.

"We should never have met. Our meeting wasn't supposed to happen, and we've lived our lives like it didn't. It might as well have never happened. It won't change history. It won't change what's bound to occur. But our feelings will never change. It was too much to begin with. It was a waste of fate. Forget. And fight for yourself."

The two of us silently stood in that moment that lasted our entire lifetime. I didn't try to catch her eyes, and she didn't try to catch mine. I looked past her head, and she stared at my chest, where she gripped my shirt tightly.

I raised my hand to her head, and pulled it closer once more. The final time my lips would touch her.

I kissed her forehead.

I walked away.


The feeling of having reached a point within myself where I was content with who I was as well as the people around me was strange. There was no outer difference. I still killed and I still didn't care about humanity as a whole. But that thing that had always been missing was suddenly there… all thanks to Fleur. I hoped that somehow I had given her what she needed as well, whether it was acceptance or something too complex for me to understand, I hoped she had gotten it.

As the summer rushed upon the country, Fleur was to be married.

The Ministry was scheduled to fall on the day she would wed, and I was asked, by Malfoy, who suspected I stalked Fleur to no end, to tell the location of the Burrow, and any information about it I could.

Of course, I knew the location. Despite my forcing myself to stay away, during my investigation of her husband-to-be I had come close to the house.

I gave the information up willingly. It was my job, and I knew Fleur would never know I had given it, nor care if she did find out. We had reached a point that nothing the other did mattered, because we weren't connected by anything but memories.


As time continued to pass, Harry Potter had almost been captured, been captured, and escaped. The Dark Lord's anger became more prevalent, and finally the final battle approached, when all those that had for so long defied the Dark Lord would perish.

It would take place at Hogwarts, where despite Dumbledore's destruction; the most problems seemed to stem from. Though the search for the Order of the Phoenix had failed mostly, the Death Eaters knew that if a threat reached the children of the Order, every member would flock to the rescue.

And Harry Potter would make his appearance.

The beginning of the fight was all but a blur. Fleur, who I knew must have been somewhere in the Battle, never came across my eyes, and this made me glad. Hopefully that meant she was unable to see me.

Deep within the forest Harry Potter surrendered himself to the Dark Lord, and he was destroyed quickly. His body, to be used as a final device of pain against those who rebelled was carried from the forest and back into the Great Hall, where the wary fighters were still trying to heal themselves.

Harry Potter somehow came back, from the dead. The Dark Lord was distraught, but this did not stop him from fighting once more.

Once more, battle ensued.

I fought, becoming slightly injured by crystal balls and frizzy haired girls.

I fought with a red head- probably the younger brother of Bill Weasley, and a mousy looking student that I didn't recognize. I laughed for a time, but suddenly there was no time left.

I fought, and the bolts of magic slammed against my chest like bricks. Blood rushed down from my forehead, and I crashed against the ground, maybe breaking my back as well. The numbness of the pain was everywhere. With the last pulse of energy I had, I turned my head slowly, to the place where somehow I knew Fleur was, though I hadn't even seen her during the battle before that.

Her hair shone like the sun, that had disappeared long ago with the rise of the darkness, and her skin was that of an angels. I could almost see the little wings sprouting from her back. My little angel.

"Petit Salope Français…" My lips mouthed, not having enough breath left to dispel voice. My eyes closed and my head slouched back.

"Fenrir…" A whisper came, from the darkness. I couldn't open my eyes. "Fenrir? Can you open your eyes pour un moment? I know you're still aleeve, so p-please…"

She… was crying? Why wasn't she fighting? Her husband could be losing his life in that moment and Fleur was bothering to speak to me?

I cracked open my eyes. There was so much light. Was it morning? Or was it just the glow she gave off?

"Quoi?" I spoke in French, for dry humor.

"Fenrir, I 'ant you to listen 'oo me. You are dying, and zere's nothing I can do. I know I've told you zis before…mais… I love you."

I was silent for a long time. I closed my eyes and soaked in the calming sensation of her wiping the blood from my face. She wasn't trying to heal me. I wanted to thank her a million times for that alone.

Now was my time.

"Fleur… ma Petit Fille Français…" I whispered. I opened my eyes once more, so I could look her deeply in the eyes and tell her what needed to be said.

"I love you… and… you… are… the only one… I ever loved. From the moment… that I met you until… right now, I've… loved you. So…" I coughed up blood. Some of it spattered onto her face. "I'm sorry… I hurt you so much…"

"You never hurt me. I promise you. You gave me life with every word you spoke to me. So… please… 'ait for me… wherever you are going…"

I smiled lightly. "We… aren't going to the same place…" Her tears came down in streaks, like rivers across mountains of gold. My eyes flickered shut, after lingering on her facial features for what must have been the longest ever.

As I slipped farther, and farther, into the warm, comforting darkness, I whispered, "Au Revoir…"

Even in the nothingness, I could still feel the calm, scented touch of her lips upon my own that she gave to me, despite the ringing loudness of the battle all around us, and the obvious repercussions that she would face, for kissing the dying enemy lying on the floor in the midst of the decisive battle. I felt thankful, deep inside my personal darkness, that there was someone like her out there for me.

"Au revoir."

Her voice echoed on for eternity and I was content.


A/N I hope you enjoyed this story in all it's screwed up glory etc etc. You may have noticed that this is the ONLY HP story as of now for Fleur and Fenrir (romance or otherwise). This made me sad -frowny face- so I started exploring how the too could possibly be connected. After I was about halfway through writing this, I realized Fenrir was the one that mauled Fleur's husband to be. This connecting point made me feel pretty smart...lol...

MINI-DICTIONARY

Avec moi- With Me

Au revoir- Goodbye

Bonjour- Hello

Brule- Burn

Ça va- How are you/What's wrong

Comment tu t'appelle- What is your name

D'accord- OK

Desole- Sorry

Deux- Two

Du vin- Some Wine

Francais- French

J'ai faim- I'm hungry

Je m'appelle- My Name Is...

Jours- Days

Lettre- letter

Mais- but

Monsieur- Sir

Non- No

Oui- Yes

Pardon moi- Excuse Me

Petit- Small/Little

Pour- For

S'il vous plait- please

Salope- bitch

Quoi- what

Viens- come on

Vous- you

Thanks for Reading!