Informants
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"Is this what you normally wear?" he finally asked, gesturing to her white and black polka dot blouse, one eyebrow raised in amusement. "It fits you far better than your leather jacket," he added with a leer.
She answered his challenge with a smile. "Sirius picked that jacket out and I still wear it, but not to work," she explained triumphantly. "How the tables have turned, Fenrir...you know, when I first came to you, you had to check me for a wire. Maybe we better check you for a wire...make sure that you aren't just using us for Voldemort's benefit."
Fenrir licked his lips, loving the game that they were playing. "Oh Peach, you tempt me," he said, standing up from his spot near the window. Immediately, his fingers went to the buttons on his shirt and began undoing them. He shrugged out of the shoulders once it hung open. "If you wanted to see me naked again, you only just had to ask."
He called her bluff, but didn't stop, even when she protested, her cheeks flaming red in embarrassment. Instead, he lifted his white undershirt over his head, showing off tanned skin stretched over taut muscle, skin covered in a dusting of hair. Fenrir loved to show off and he was clearly very impressed with what he had to offer.
"We've got someone in who's agreed to be a confidential informant for us," Sirius explained, all hints of his previously playful persona vanished now that he was in serious talk mode. "But, he's only agreed to do it on the condition that he be able to pick his handler." Hermione had thought she'd seen the last of Fenrir, but he was back, asking for her specifically.
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