Grace

Chapter 4: Rewards of Deception

"It's no longer of any concern."

Fenrir lazily licked his lips clean of the blood of the sheep, stolen off a Muggle farm, wiping his hands on the bloody gown draped over his knee. A quiet growl caught his attention, and he raised an eyebrow at Grace, the girl huddled on the far side of the carcass, glaring at him.

"What, pup?"

"That's mine." Her eyes darted to the gown briefly before returning to his, rage and fear mingled in the dark depths.

"It's a human conceit, pup." Fenrir lifted his lips in a sneer of contempt. "For soft prey behind their walls and wards, not monsters like you and I."

"You wear robes." Grace's eyes flared with challenge, and he growled quietly, watching her shift her weight, even though her gaze never wavered.

"Robes are for the day, for dealing with them. A nightgown is for hiding what you are at night, when they fear the darkness." He carefully worked a sliver of flesh from the carcass, smearing it on the gown where he'd ripped it earlier.

"It's still mine." Grace shifted her weight again, and Fenrir jerked the gown out of her reach as she lunged for it.

He closed his free hand around her throat when she tried to use his leg as a springboard to leap for the scrap of cloth, and Grace snarled, baring her teeth at him in challenge.

"Give it back!"

"I don't take orders from a pup." Fenrir used his hand around her throat to shove her to the ground, her cheek against the rough stone. "Do I have to remind you of your place?"

Grace stilled, and he caught the whiff of fear rising from her. A satisfied smirk crossed his face, and he held her in place a moment longer before relaxing his grip, returning his attention to the gown. It certainly looked as if it had been worn by a child being ripped apart by a wolf, now.

"I'll return later. Be a good little pup, and I might bring you back a little something." Fenrir grinned as she looked up at him with a hopeful expression.

"A dress?"

Fenrir chuckled, cruel amusement showing in his eyes as he shook his head. "A surprise, pup." He balled the nightgown up, pulling on the robe he wore to deal with the wizarding world. Too tight and scratchy, but sufficient to get him where he needed to go.

He could feel Grace watching him as he left, smell the longing for the fresh air outside the cave, for the sunlight that poured over him as he prepared to Apparate to the Avery's house in Bath.

~ ~~ ~

Marion looked up from her needlework as the flames of the fireplace flared green, her husband's face appearing in their depths. With a sigh, she set the hoop and silks aside, settling with careful grace on the low stool in front of the hearth.

"What do you want, Malcolm? I've told you, I've no desire to speak with you if you are simply going to attempt to frighten me concerning the status of my daughter." She gave him a sharp look, annoyance mingled with disgust.

Malcolm smiled oily, triumph on his expression. "I promise you, my dear, I'm not going to attempt to frighten you concerning that worthless piece of trash. If you would be so kind as to give me a moment in your presence?"

"If you can give me sufficient reason to do so. I don't wish to have you in the same residence as I."

"I could merely insist upon it. The house does still belong to me, no matter that you reside there, Marion."

"Make it a very brief moment, and I might yet forgive you for disturbing the quiet of my afternoon." Marion stood aside as the flames flared higher, Malcolm stepping through. His house-elf appeared seconds later, bearing a box that it set on one of the end tables next to the sofa before vanishing again.

"I brought you a present, my dear." Malcolm unlatched the box, opening it to reveal a pile of blood-soaked rags. "It's dead. No longer of any concern."

Marion managed to keep on her feet, if barely, her face going cold as the blood drained out. "Salazar's blessed name, what did you do, Malcolm?" She glared at him, grateful that for once she hadn't decided to invite her friends for tea. "She is our daughter, no matter what happened to her. She is our responsibility, having neglected to ensure that she was safe then."

"It should have died that night!" Malcolm clenched his jaw, taking in a deep breath. "It would have died that night if you had any respect for the family name, as you ought."

"She would still be alive if you had any proper family honor, like any decent pure-blood," Marion shot back, keeping her hand away from her wand with an effort. She reminded herself that she could not, would not, resort to common brawling like a Weasley. "There is no cause for turning your back on a child incapable of caring for herself, no matter how ashamed you may be of that child. Your honor is sullied when you leave the defenseless without protection."

"It isn't a child, it's a monster, and ought have been destroyed when it was created. I have ensured that it is destroyed."

The crack of flesh meeting flesh sounded loud in the small parlor, and Marion closed her eyes briefly, reining in her temper. "Get out of my house, Malcolm. You are never to return here again."

"It is still my house, Marion."

"You return here, and I shall become a very wealthy widow." Marion held his gaze, pushing the fury down, summoning the iron control that her mother had taught her as a child. "Get out."

Malcolm sneered, grabbing the jar of Floo powder from the mantle. "You're still my wife, and I still have some measure of authority. You shall tell no one of what I have told you. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly, Malcolm. Good day."

Only when the flames returned to their natural color did Marion snatch out her wand, banishing the box with its chilling contents to the basements, calling for the house-elf as she stalked to the main hall.

"I am going out, Tully. Make sure that the item in the empty cellar is burnt before I return."

"Of course, Mistress Avery." Tully nodded, her squeaky voice grating on Marion's frayed nerves. "Tully will burn it immediately, Mistress Avery."

"Go." Marion snatched her cloak from the stand, wrapping it tightly around herself as she stalked out the door.