Chapter 158: The War: Captive
Summary:
CW for some unpleasant childhood flashbacks, and obviously Remus is now in Greyback's clutches, so not a lot of fun stuff here.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
As they pulled you out of the oxygen tent
You asked for the latest party.
With your silicone hump and your ten-inch stump
Dressed like a priest you was; Todd Browning freak you was.
Crawling down the alley on your hands and knees
I'm sure you're not protected for it's plain to see,
The diamond dogs are poachers and they hide behind trees.
Hunt you to the ground, they will,
Mannequins with kill appeal.
Wednesday 14th March 1979
"Welcome home, cub."
Remus said nothing. For now, he had nothing to say. He just wanted to get a good look.
Fenrir Greyback. Remus had expected him to be taller. He wasn't short by any standards, but when Remus stood up straight they were eye level. That was good. That gave him a flutter of courage.
He may not be taller than Remus, but Greyback was certainly bigger in every other way; hulking broad shoulders, thick squat neck, muscular arms. He had long, thick yellow fingernails, dark wiry hair covering his forearms and sprouting up over the collar of his cloak, meeting a dark beard that was more like fur than hair. His eyes were dangerous, inhuman.
The magic radiating off him was not like a wizard's; at least not any Remus had encountered. Like a full moon, it was searing. The scent, while sickeningly familiar, was not inviting.
Remus had felt at home with the pack; he had felt he belonged. But not with this man. He was the enemy, and always would be.
"Like what you see?" Greyback's smile widened, showing sharp, predatory teeth, long yellow canines.
Remus stared impassively back, mouth shut.
He realised that Greyback did not like it. Greyback had expected him to speak - to beg, or to rage, or even panic. And Remus knew exactly what to do with bullies who wanted a reaction.
He cocked his head, pulled a nonchalant face and shrugged.
"S'ok, I s'pose. Oi, could I get my clothes back?"
Greyback's pupils seemed to dilate, or maybe Remus just imagined it. Either way, he recovered quickly, still smiling stiffly.
"Where are my manners? Castor!" He snapped his claw-like fingers.
Castor appeared at Greyback's side in a moment, straight-backed and wrapped in a fur cloak, carrying a bundle of clothes. Livia was there too, gazing adoringly at her father. The old church they stood in had no ceiling, and in the rosey dawn light Remus could clearly see Castor's face for the first time. There were three long pink scars down one side; claw marks, pink and soft as burnt skin.
Greyback saw him staring.
"Shame about that," He said said, reaching out and stroking Castor's cheek with one filthy fingernail. Castor did not flinch. "Hated to ruin something so pleasant to look at, but he's learnt his lesson, haven't you, cub?"
Castor nodded, staring straight ahead like a soldier.
"Good boy." Greyback stroked his scarred cheek. "Still beautiful though, eh Remus?"
