Best Served Cold | F&R
@viciousvisage
He knew what this meeting was about. Had been expecting it for some time now. Rookwood and Rosier both had warned him that Rodolphus hadn’t been thrilled by their private party in the woods north of Hogsmeade, didn’t much appreciate how they’d celebrated the Wizarding Statute. More particularly the mess they’d left behind.
Fenrir hadn’t needed the warning, knew Rod well enough to know that matter hadn’t been settled. The only reason they hadn’t had this talk sooner was because the Lestrange heir had given him space. With Ari hurt, then recovering, this conversation needed to wait. Rod knew him, too. Knew him better than anyone. Enough to know that while his mate was weak Fenrir wouldn’t give a shit about anything other than protecting her.
All criticizing him would’ve accomplished was piss him off. Besides, he didn’t understand what the problem was. Two deaths was a record low for him. It’d been away from the party, in a clearing outside of Hogsmeade, soundproofed, their tracks covered. As far as Fenrir was concerned, he’d done the Rebellion a favor. He was still waiting on his ‘Thank You’ basket from the Dark Lord.
So when the owl dropped a note onto his lap and he saw the familiar, meticulous scrawl, he’d known. Arielle was healed now, safe. His grace period was over, and he’d been summoned. That the rendezvous was at their spot, the cabin that didn’t have neighbors for miles each way, no one to hear the screams, meant that Rod was more pissed than he’d realized. He was expecting things to get ugly, and didn’t want to wake the neighbors while he and Fenrir cleared the air.
Listening to the chorus of nocturnal life, teeth clenched as he climbed the hill, Fenrir resigned himself to something he’d never done in his life. He wouldn’t fight Rod. Not after everything he and his mate had done for him, for Ari. She was alive because of them. Because of Rod, they were going to find her brother. If submitting to whatever Rod needed was how they started balancing the scale, then… he’d do it.
He crested the hill and stopped at its peak. A single lantern glowed at the door of the cabin at the end of the drive. Rod was home.
A slow breath filled his lungs. Exhaling just as slowly, he rolled his shoulders, swivelled his head on his neck, loosened his arms. Fenrir grit his teeth and reminded himself that this was necessary. He needed to let this happen. If this was what Rod needed so he knew that Fenrir hadn’t meant any disrespect, he’d do what he had to.
An ache was already starting to form in his jaw as he strode the rest of the way toward the ramshackle cabin at the end of the drive.