Sweat dripped down Sköll's face as she stood, looking down at the floor of Malfoy Manor. The tension in the air was palpable, as was the fear that ran rampant through the room. Sköll was sure that her knees where visibly shaking, but thankfully they were hidden safely by the chair which she stood behind. The silence wasn't doing anything to protect her however, as she could hear her shaking breaths grow louder and louder as the seconds to his arrival wound down until there were none at all, and she felt as though she might scream from the pressure. In fact, she nearly did scream when the pale, sliver of a man came in and began winding his way like a black cloaked serpent between the darkly stained backs of the magnificent seats that each of the Death Eaters occupied. He greeted them in a terrible, raspy voice that seemed incapable of any warmth. As he slid closer and closer towards Sköll, the voice seemed to engrain itself into her; like a set of nails being dragged across her skin. When he finally spotted the young girl, his eyes narrowed, and he approached her rather quickly, only to slow his actions upon inspecting her.

"And what, my friends," He started, skimming his stiff fingers just beneath the ends of Sköll's hair. "Do we have here?"

"That would be Sköll, my Lord." The owner of the manor said slyly. Voldemort suddenly retracted and hissed, reaching for his wand and placing the Cruciatus curse upon the young girl. Her already weakened knees buckled beneath her as she tumbled, writhing in the pain that the spell inflicted upon her. She managed to look up at the man in the chair she had been behind, and cried out to him. She screamed for him to help her, but neither his head nor even his eyes turned as the pain that wracked her body grew fiercer.

In a split second, the pain was gone, but she was flung across the room, then dragged back harshly, seemingly by thin air, and made to levitate above the dark wood table that the others sat around. Her heart was beating so fast she swore that everyone present at the table could at least hear it, if not see it pounding its way through her chest. The levitation spell held the girl firmly and steadily, though it didn't stop the falling feeling in her stomach; that combined with the previous abuse made her want to throw up. All eyes were on her now, and so she made another attempt to call for help.

"Dad," She croaked out in fear, begging the man she called her father to do something to help her; but he just watched like all the others around her. It was the sheer indifference in his eyes that finally drew the tears from her eyes. She cried miserably and shivered from the residual pain that shot randomly through her nerves, like leftover electricity sparking after an overload.

"I never want to see this inferior creature again. Put it outside in the dirt where it belongs." Voldemort ordered, casually flicking a bright green spell at the levitating girl. Her eyes locked onto those of her father's as the spell caught her in the back, and she fell.


Sköll's leg gave a jerk, waking her before her dream body hit the table. The girl stared at the ceiling for a moment, recovering her thoughts. Where was she?

Right; she was at home. A sleepy grunt from beside her reminded her that she was in her apartment, safely tucked between two walls. The first made of drywall, designed to protect her from the elements that howled outside, and the second made of muscle, designed to protect her from everything else. She tugged the meagre blanket up and over her nose, and squiggled closer to the second wall, looking for the heat that the first wall was incapable of providing. Fenrir's eyes reluctantly opened themselves as he took a look at the clock set on top of several boxes that made up a sort of bedside table. The digital numbers told him that it was currently 4:12Am, and that he had overslept.

Yawning, the giant of a man stretched, careful not to smash his daughter into the wall that the bed was pressed up against. He stood sleepily, and shook himself before making his way over to the small, albeit clean, bathroom and began his morning routine. He had a staring contest with himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth, and as he stared, the wheels in his head finally began to turn.

Today was the day he introduced Sköll to his team, and took her out on her first hunt.

A knot grew in his throat at the thought, pride in his daughter being overrun by fear for her life. Being a snatcher might look glorious at the moment, they were being paid good money and had the favour of the ministry; but that wouldn't last. He may have been ugly, but he wasn't stupid. Fenrir knew there was no winning this war; he could feel it in his gut. What kept him fighting for the Dark Lord was his acceptance of what he was. No one but the Dark Lord would hire a werewolf, and when the war had started, for the first time in his history of fatherhood, he was able to provide for his little girl. Well, she wasn't so little anymore he supposed. She was larger than the average human female, enough so to be comparable in strength to the average human male.

Fenrir stripped and stepped into the shower, so small it could barely contain his form. He would have widened it a bit, but he constantly forgot to do so.

At least in the tent shower he wouldn't be so cramped. Ah, the tent. That would be a luxury for this trip. He was so proud of Sköll for thinking of it, and a smile crossed Fenrir's face as pride swelled in his chest. His daughter was so smart.

The tent was big enough for his whole team and then some, and all he had to do was stuff it into a bag that was small enough to fit in his pocket.

Yet for all the luxuries, he couldn't help but want to leave Sköll at the apartment, as he always had. Terrible things would happen to her after the war, when there would no longer be any need for Snatchers, and she would be forced to live a doubly cursed life if she even lived past that point. He was seriously considering sneaking out and leaving her, when he heard tap water running in the sink. Too late. She was up, and would follow him anywhere at that point.

Fenrir shut off the water and reached for his towel, which Sköll handed to him as she brushed her own teeth. As she cleaned herself of the nightly grime, her father's thoughts wandered back to the tent, thinking about where he should have her sleep. He didn't want her too close to the wall, so as to catch a draft, but at the same time he wanted to be between her and the men he commanded. They were called Snatchers for a reason. He supposed a top bunk would do, but then he didn't want her falling off and injuring herself.

All too soon Sköll was dressed, and it was time for the father and daughter pair to go meet up at the ministry to receive their new target assignment. As they walked Sköll looked up at her father nervously, so to relax her, he smirked and shoved her gently with his elbow. She shoved him back a bit harder with her shoulder, making him put his arm around her neck, pull her close, and give her a noogie. She squirmed and cried out in protest, and he laughed heartily as she glared up at him and attempted to fix her now thoroughly frazzled hair. Her mood remained at a playfully standoffish level for the rest of their trip, that was until they got to the ministry, and wherever they went, all eyes fell upon them. Whispers of fear and rumours flew behind them like vultures following a cart of rotting meat. Sköll wanted desperately to grab her father's hand and push herself against his side, though she refrained, keeping an air fearlessness about herself, hopefully mimicking the aura her father was giving off. Little did she know that her father was just as worried as she was, and wondered just how Sköll could walk the halls of the ministry, seemingly unaffected by the prying eyes of the wizards that surrounded them. The pair entered one of the many elevators, followed by none other than the man she had seen in her dream, and his son.

"Malfoy," Fenrir said, using the man's name as his only greeting.

"Greyback," Lucius said with a nod of the head, acknowledging the werewolf's presence. Both men's children remained silent, though Draco looked slightly weary of having his back to the younger of the werewolves. He stole worried glances back at Sköll, seeming to determine whether she posed a threat or not. At last when their stop came, both families vacated the lift, with Draco scurrying ahead ever so slightly. Had Sköll not been so nervous of what was to come, she might very well have let out a chuckle.

The Greybacks followed the Malfoys until they came to a courtroom, over which presided a stout little woman dressed in a pink outfit. By the look of things, she had been interrogating some poor person that had been snatched prior to the Greybacks arriving at the ministry. Perhaps, thought Sköll, this was someone whom her father had caught himself. A wave of pity swept over her as she noticed the tears streaking down the woman's face. She didn't want to put people through that misery, but she needed the money that their capture provided.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, there are a few matters we need to discuss, but first I must deal with these half-breeds." The woman in pink said in a sickly sweet voice that made the hairs on Sköll's neck bristle. A growl was bubbling in her throat when she felt a sideways glance from her father. The growl was immediately subsided, and Sköll grew silent again.

"I've come to register a new Snatcher." Fenrir said calmly, nudging his daughter forward. The woman looked at Sköll with a mixture of hatred and disgust before taking out a delicate pink quill and a piece of parchment.

"Name?" She asked, looking as though she would be impressed if the she-wolf could speak.

"Sköll Greyback," She said, feeling as though the pink woman was trying to intimidate her. The woman smiled horribly and leaned forward.

"I need your real name, not the name this half-breed has given you."

"The name he gave me is my real name; I am Sköll Greyback." Sköll affirmed, and again, Fenrir felt proud of his daughter. He didn't know why exactly, but he did, and it was enough to make him affirm that her name was indeed, as she had said it was.

"This is your pup, then, Greyback?" The woman asked, scribbling a few things down on the parchment.

"She's my daughter," He said, correcting her. She smiled and nodded in a manner that reminded Sköll of the sound that nails make when dragged across a chalkboard.

"Yes well, you will receive confirmation of the registration in a few weeks time. Until then, here is your assignment." She said, handing Fenrir a piece of parchment, which he snatched quickly from her hand, and promptly walked away, determined to get away from the pink puff as soon as he could. Sköll trotted after him, just as eager as her father to be rid of the woman.

"Do you have the floo powder?" Fenrir asked. Sköll nodded and began rummaging around in the small bag that carried the tent, amongst other things. She pulled from it another small bag, and offered the greyish dust that it contained to her father.

"Go to the Leaky Cauldron and get four rooms." He instructed, and took a bit of the powder. He then nudged his reluctant daughter into the fireplace.

"The Leaky Cauldron," Sköll said clearly, and tossed the powder onto the ground.

Seeing his daughter disappear, Fenrir stepped in next.

"Knockturn Ally," He commanded, and disappeared himself, in a flash of green flame.

A moment later, the Leaky Cauldron's fireplace suddenly erupted into a shower of green sparks, and threw from its mouth the youngest Greyback. The pub's occupants didn't notice her much; a few looked fearfully to see exactly what had emitted the green flash, but upon realising that it was merely floo powder, they returned to their butterbeers and fire whiskeys.

She made her way to the bar, where the owner was drying some mugs.

"I need four rooms please," She said to him, which made him frown.

"Terribly sorry miss, we only have two left."

"That's fine, I'll take those two." She said, placing a few galleons on the counter. He took them, and gave her two silver keys.

"Rooms 4 and 5. Enjoy your stay miss." He said with a warm smile. She thanked him, enjoying the welcome while she could. It wouldn't be long before the whole wizarding community knew her face, and could place it in their minds next to the name she carried. When that moment came, she knew that besides her father, no one would look at her with anything but hatred, fear, or murderous intent.