Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Into The Woods
Scabior raced through the trees. He'd really missed this: the cool breeze against his skin, the birdsong in the trees, and everything else from the bluebells on the forest floor to the leafy canopy above him. Even the feeling of just running was exhilarating, especially after being cooped up in Azkaban for so long.
He was back in the forest: the forest that had been his home for years before he'd been in Azkaban – the place he'd spent so much time growing up. It had been his go to place as a child – when his parents would put too much pressure on him to do well at school or to do his homework, this was where he would run.
A young Scabior lay on his front, watching the mother deer and her fawn through the trees. There was something peaceful about the mother as she lovingly nudged her speckled young. It reminded Scabior of how his own mother used to be before she had started to place such high expectations on him. Before he'd been placed in Slytherin.
However, one day the fawn would become a stag – free to rule over the forest and no longer constrained by the herd or its mother's wishes. Scabior wished he too could be as carefree as the forest creatures, but at this point knew that could never be true. He would continue at Hogwarts and then it would be a Ministry position for him, just like his father. Little did he know how different his life would be to how he'd expected it to be…
Life after Hogwarts had been hard for Scabior. He'd been brash and irrational and that had landed him in Azkaban. The years in the wizarding prison had driven him into insanity and had only strengthened his feelings of contempt for society as it was. When the opportunity to escape had come, Scabior had taken it, but at a price. He would have to help in the Death Eaters' mission to stand any chance at all of survival after the war.
But for now, at least, he was free. He'd reluctantly been given a job to do at some point in the future and he was still within the grip of society's expectations, but at least he was free from the depths of despair, the Dementors, and the darkness of Azkaban.
"We expect you to help bring in the Mudbloods," Greyback had said. "Nothing is for free."
It was strange how he'd come to accept the werewolf in the short time they'd been together. His parents, he knew, would have hated him – his raunchiness, his cruelty and his uncleanliness. Greyback's disorderly presence was everything Scabior's parents had hated and was one of the reasons Scabior didn't mind him so much. That, and their shared love of the forest and all things wild.
When he reached the clearing where the sun shone down on him, he spread his arms into the air, and spun. For now, Scabior was free to run wild and free, as far from Azkaban as he could get.