The Death Eater [HARRY POTTER] (ON HOLD)

23

"Go away, Fenrir," Calla said calmly as she heard the man trying to sneak up behind her. The an huffed once he realized he'd been discovered, and instead of listening to Calla he flopped down on one of the antique sitting chairs across from Calla, and pinned her with a look. Calla ignored him for a long moment before raising her eyes on the book she'd been reading, Calla had woken up to a book on dark curses laying on her bedside table, and raising one of her dark eyebrows. "Is there something that I can help you with?"

The werewolf grinned at her, before sitting up suddenly and leaning forward so that his elbows were perched on his bony knees.

"Would the little prat waltzing around the mansion happen to be the same Draco Malfoy that you've been whining about for months?" Fenrir seemed delighted by the prospect that he was able to meet Draco, although Calla had no idea why. Honestly, Calla had barely even mentioned the boy, fully aware that Draco would be joining them soon enough, and it wasn't Calla's place to affect the way the other Death Eaters saw him.

"I'd imagine there are several prats walking about right now. The Dark Lord just had a meeting for the less important Death Eaters," Calla said carelessly, turning her eyes back to her book. "Which prat are you referring to?"

Fenrir rolled his bloodshot eyes, and smirked at Calla like he knew something that she didn't.

"The prat that looks like Lucius but shorter. He almost pissed himself when I grinned at him earlier, and I just wanted to know if he was the one that always seemed to impress you," Fenrir cackled, revealing the very same teeth that had caused Draco to 'nearly wet himself'. Honestly, Fenrir's teeth were so bad that Calla sometimes wanted to grimace when looking at them. They were horribly yellow, and on a good day there were bloodstains on some of his front teeth. It seemed like there wasn't a day that went by that the dark Lord didn't send Fenrir out to threaten someone, and more often than not Fenrir would come back with blood between his teeth. There wasn't a good chance of Fenrir passing on his disease while he was human, but he liked to scare people.

"I don't imagine that Lucius would appreciate you calling his son a prat, Fenrir," was the only thing that Calla said before she allowed herself to get lost in her book once more. Honestly, for being a book about dark magic, it was rather interesting. It was far more detailed than anything calla had been able to read at Hogwarts. In fact, it wouldn't surprise Calla at all if she learned that the book she was reading had been banned by the Ministry. No doubt Lucius had many such books in his library. He'd never been one to lay by the Ministry's rules.

Fenrir threw his head back and cackled like a mad man, grinning from ear to ear once he had finished. He stood up and nearly leaped at Calla, freezing in mid air before he could lay so much as a finger on her. He just cackled some more as Calla flicked her wrist and tossed him like a rag doll across the room. He was a bit odd at the best of times, and though most of the time Calla wan'ted to kill him, he was not one of the worst Death Eaters that she had met.

"Was there anything else, or were you just planning on making a pest of yourself?" Calla asked carelessly, turning her page and beginning to scan over the next one. Fenrir rose to his feet and strolled over to the chair he had been sitting in before, putting his feet up on the pretty table in front of it.

"I suppose I can sit here and behave, your majesty," Calla didn't look up, but she somehow knew that Fenrir was rolling his eyes at her. Calla flicked her wrist again and she listened to Fenrir gasp as his feet flew away from the table, and landed on the floor with a hard thump.

"Please see that you do," Calla said before continuing her book. Only a moment later Fenrir picked up a book of his own, though Calla couldn't imagine where he had found it, the house elves kept the room practically spotless, and began to read.