What do you mean, we stole a dog?!
Rowle, Scabior and McKeon unwittingly steal a dog. An unsuspected phobia of Scabior's is revealed. A very tense standoff ensues!
A/N: 'Yo Quiero Taco Bell.' Is the property of the restaurant chain Taco Bell and therefore it DOES NOT belong to me! Although I do love to eat there!
A/N: For any and all Chihuahua owners, I apologize for using them. I do love the little buggers but I used Chihuahuas for three reasons:
I needed a reason for him to be able to quickly bond with her parents.
I needed a reason for him and her to bond over. Why not a shared phobia?
Besides which, what better way is there to show the human side of a hardened young inmate to his future in laws than having this big, bad boy running from a little bitty dog?
In addition to the clothing and electronics, Dolohov had also arranged transportation for their three youngest members. The work he had found for Yaxley and Greyback was literally a job just outside their cul-de-sac. They were the perfect body size and height to work the doors as bouncers at the bar where he and McNair tended bar.
The boys' jobs were further away. For Scabior and McKeon, he had gotten two Ninjas because they loved motorcycles. They would also be working in a motorcycle repair shop. He had gotten a 67 Impala for Rowle. There was an auto dealership just down from the motorcycle shop. They were in desperate need of a mechanic. Thorfinn had always enjoyed working on cars more than he had stealing them.
The boys were crazy happy over their vehicles. They randomly came in time and again, hugging Dolohov and thanking him for the rides. Rowle took his new car out for a spin. McKeon went along for the ride, dragging Scabior along as well. They had gone around the block and were heading back in. They stopped at a street corner to buy drinks out of the vending machine. Rowle sat behind the wheel, daydreaming about taking Ginny for a spin in his new ride. He looked over at the open door when he heard a whimper. Reared up in the door was a cute little dog. He thought it looked kind of terrier like.
"Hey pooch, how are you doing?" the dog wagged its tail. He reached down and scratched behind its ear. It didn't look like a stray but it wasn't wearing a collar either. It jumped up on the seat beside him. He laughed as it reared up on its hind legs, licking his chin. "Good boy." He said, petting it gently.
The dog laid down and curled up on the seat beside him. He laid his hand across it, gently rubbing its back. Alex and Michael came back with the drinks. Mike hopped in the front seat and Alex stretched out in the backseat. Thorfinn took his drink from Mike, popped it open and took a swig. Then he set it into the cup holder. Neither Mike nor Alex had noticed they had a four legged passenger now in the car. Thorfinn pulled away from the curb, not noticing the elderly woman who was frantically shouting on the sidewalk.
They got back to the cul-de-sac in record time. Thorfinn prepared to ask Ginny if she wanted to go for a spin. As he pulled to a stop in front of Antonin and Lavender's house, the dog sat up. Mike jerked back. All the color washed out of his face.
"Bloody fucking hell! Where the fuck did that devil pop out from?" he snarled. He was white as a ghost. His tanned skin basically looked painted on. He fumbled behind him for the door knob.
"Mike? You ok, mate?" Thorfinn asked. He'd never seen Mike go THAT pale that fast! Not even the time they'd been acting around on the climbing wall and Mike fell off, breaking his wrist.
Mike didn't answer. He gave up on the doorknob and just pushed out of the window, quickly exiting the car. He raced away as if he was being chased by hellhounds. He ran into the house without a backward look. Fenrir, Corban, Antonin and Walden all stared after him. Then they turned to look at Alex and Thorfinn.
"Damn, boys, what's gotten into him?" Antonin asked. Thorfinn shrugged his shoulders as he headed inside, holding the dog. It had climbed into his arms as he undid his seatbelt. Alex walked beside him. He looked closely at the dog.
"Thorfinn, where did you get the dog?" he asked quietly. Thorfinn looked down at him.
"He jumped into my car. He's very friendly. He even let me pet him. Back there when you two were getting the drinks. He doesn't have a collar. I figure he's a stray." Thorfinn told him, feeling slightly uneasy about Mike.
"A strange dog just jumps into your car. He allows you to pet him. He lays down beside you and you think he's a stray? Just because he has no collar on? Thorfinn! That's someone's pet! Bloody hell, mate, we just stole a dog!" Alex snapped at him. He took the dog away from Thorfinn, who looked at it in shock.
"W-waait-wait a minute? You-? No! Are you serious right now? What do you mean, we stole a dog?!" he choked out in a panicky voice.
"I mean, we stole a dog! This dog is no stray, Thorfinn! Look at him! He's too friendly! He's used to being petted. Bloody hell, look at this." Alex motioned at the dog, lounging casually in the crook of his arm. "This dog is used to being carried like this. We stole someone's pet!"
"Oh, bloody hell! Bloody FUCKING hell! Damn it! Ginny's going to kill me if I get chucked back into prison! Son of a bitch! I'm going back to prison! Over a fucking dog!" Thorfinn started panicking.
Alex had begun pacing anxiously, trying to figure out how they could get themselves out of this jam. He walked into the kitchen. Mike was there, with his arms thrown around a surprised Hermione. He looked around at Alex, saw the dog and let out a muffled whimper. He flung himself around, forgetting the girl in his arms. He clenched his fists as he prepared to fight! The hidden switchblades on the insides of his wrist guards popped out. Alex froze, his eyes wide. 'Why was Mike staring at him like that? More importantly, why had Mike popped his blades like they were about to fight?'
"Thorfinn!" he spoke very calmly. "Please come to the kitchen."
Even in the other room, Thorfinn could tell when Alex was fighting to not panic. This was one of these times. 'Why was he so panicked?' He walked in, took one look at Mike and froze as well. Luna and Lavender were sitting at the table with Ginny, Romilda and the twins. They were all frozen at the sight of those razor sharp blades against Hermione's skin. Hermione herself was in tears. 'Why was he acting like a crazy man? Where had the sweet young man who brought her a rose gone?'
Lavender reached over and touched Luna's hand. Luna looked at her. She nodded towards the front of the house, "Fenrir." She silently mouthed. Luna nodded as she slowly and carefully got up and left. She walked as quickly as she could to the front door.
Luna rushed out the door. She jogged down the steps and raced over to Fenrir. Not noticing the parents who had finally decided to approach them, she spoke to him. "Fen, you need to come quick! Michael has Hermione held hostage! He's holding knives on her! Lavender sent me to get you! Please hurry!"
Fenrir, Antonin, Corban and Walden all cursed as they raced into the house. After hearing their child's name, the Grangers rushed in after them. The other parents were close behind. William was cursing the day he and Jean decided to move into this 'oh so lovely' neighborhood! 'Their daughter had been held as a sex slave all weekend, they were going to be grandparents whether they were ready or not. Now their future son in law of a little inmate was threatening their daughter's life!'
Jean rushed into the room. She stopped abruptly. The young man had Hermione held in front of him. She'd heard some of the girls describe him the way his friends had: wild and feral, something about an attack soon after he was imprisoned. As she looked at his face and specifically his eyes, she realized something: this boy might be feral, he might be wild, but right now he was completely terrified! She held William back and pushed him over to Fenrir. "William, keep Fenrir calm, dear."
She moved around the blond boy in front of Fenrir. She thought this must be Alex, the young inmate matched with Parvati. There was another blond as well, Thorfinn. He was matched with Ginny. Alex and Thorfinn were Michael's friends.
She moved slowly so as not to scare Michael. He had his arms twisted around Hermione and she could see he wore two wrist guards and fingerless gloves. He apparently had blades hidden within the guards and they were popped out, dangerously close to her child's face. His eyes were locked on something and they weren't moving. She followed his terrified gaze straight to Alex and frowned. No, not Alex. He was staring at the dog Alex was carrying!
She smiled as she recognized the dog. He belonged to their elderly neighbor, Mrs. Brubaker. His name was Mr. Perrywinkle. "There you are, Mr. Perrywinkle. Weren't you supposed to be at the vet today? Mrs. Brubaker is going to be so relieved. I bet you slipped your leash! And your collar as well! Ginny, Parvati, would you care to take Alex and Thorfinn to the other room, my dears? Please get hold of Mrs. Brubaker and let her know Mr. Perrywinkle has already hitched a ride home."
"Yes, ma'am." Ginny jumped up and grabbed Thorfinn's arm, guiding him to the living room. Parvati came around and grabbed Alex, pulling him away from Michael in the process. When they were gone, she turned to the young inmate.
"Michael, how are you today?" Jean asked calmly. The young man didn't answer her. His gaze was still fixed behind her. She could hear Mr. Perrywinkle yipping behind her. Ten to one, Alex was still in his direct line of sight. "Ginny, I do believe that Lavender used keep a collar and leash in the drawer of the table in the living room." She looked at Lavender who quickly nodded. "Please take Mr. Perrywinkle outside and let him run around until Mrs. Brubaker gets here."
"Yes ma'am." Ginny answered. She went to the table and got out the collar and leash. She and Parvati got it onto Mr. Perrywinkle and led Alex and Thorfinn on outside. Once the dog was completely out of the house, Jean noted that the boy was already breathing easier.
William watched proudly, knowing that he himself would have made a bad situation worse. He laid a hand on Fenrir's back. "Don't worry. Jean will calm him down. This is her job. She's a therapist at the high school. She talks panicky teenagers down off the ledge every day."
Fenrir looked at him sideways. "For a man whose child is being threatened with knives, you're being remarkably calm about this."
"If he was deliberately, maliciously threatening her, I'd be raising immortal hell, believe me! But I've seen Hermione panicky just like this, also because of Mr. Perrywinkle. He terrifies her. Jean will tell Michael about it to calm him down, I guarantee you." William told him. Fenrir looked at the woman in front of him with new eyes. 'Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn't turn her or her husband against Michael before he ever married the girl.'
"Michael." She repeated patiently. "How are you doing today?" the young man finally looked at her.
"G-good. I-I'm doing good, I guess." he stammered quietly, keeping a sharp eye out for the little demon to return.
"That's good. I hear you're working in a motorcycle shop. You like motorcycles, I take it." She prodded him gently.
"Y-yeah. I, uh, I have a Ninja. It's black." He offered a tidbit of information on his own. She smiled.
"Ok. Michael, we're going to play a game now. It's called one, two, three. You and I will count down together. Then you are going to put the knives away on the count of three." Jean could almost swear that he had armed himself instinctively. Michael's eyes widened and his jaw dropped as he looked at his own wrists. The rest of them relaxed. They could tell he hadn't even realized he'd popped the knives out! He'd been operating on a fight or flight instinct ever since he'd left the car. His first instinct had led him to Hermione. His second instinct had been to fight!
"Are you ready, Michael? Her we go. One. Two. Three." On the count of three, Michael flexed his wrists and the knives retracted. "Good boy, Michael. Very good. You know, I noticed that you have scars on your hands. I though they must be from your job until I realized they're old and faded." Michael looked at his hands uncomfortably. "How old were you? Those scars are from dog bites, aren't they? Hermione, dear, raise up your arms. Let him see your scars." Hermione pushed up the sleeves of her sweater and showed the faded bite marks on her arms. Michael traced the marks and closed his hands gently around her arms. He still hadn't said much more than answering Jean's questions.
"When Hermione was five, we left her with a babysitter. You remember that woman, William. The one with the Chihuahuas and that darling little Pomeranian. We were going to get Hermione a Pomeranian because she LOVED playing with that little dog." Jean told Michael. He was watching her interestedly.
William let out a small growl of anger. "Oh, yeah! THAT WOMAN! Ugh! Don't remind me of her!" Michael looked at him.
"Yo Quiero Taco Bell!" he whispered into Hermione's ear. She nodded, trembling as she remembered those dogs.
"Yeah, those dogs think they're little fighters. Those two attacked the little Pomy. Hermione, sweet child that she was, thought she could get them to leave the little Pomy alone. They turned on her and tore her arms up. The lady actually tried to blame Hermione because the dogs were fighting in the first place. William was so furious I had to keep Hermione constantly in his arms for the next three days. He would have went straight back and killed that woman and her dogs!" Jean told Michael. His eyes were wide as he listened to the story.
"When we moved here, Mrs. Brubaker and Mr. Perrywinkle were our first two guests. Hermione was in her room studying. We were downstairs visiting with Mrs. Brubaker. She makes some WONDERFUL sugar cookies! We have this heavy, heavy chair in the living room. It's the only chair Mr. Perrywinkle can't jump up on. While we were downstairs, he began wandering around and found his way into Hermione's room. We think he probably tried to jump up on the bed with her or something. She apparently took one look at him and started screaming bloody murder. Next thing we know, our teenage daughter is running in, jumping up and huddling on the back of that chair while Mr. Perrywinkle tries his best to jump up and play with her." Jean chuckled at the scowl on Hermione's face as she ratted out one of her phobias. Michael had relaxed enough to loosen his grip on her. He had his chin propped on her shoulder as he listened to her mother.
"Michael, how old were you?" she repeated gently. He looked at Fenrir, then he looked away.
"Four." He whispered. Fen scowled. 'What had that look meant just now?'
"Did you know the person whose dogs bit you?" she wanted to get him talking but she didn't want to press him too much. He nodded.
"Mum had two of them. The little Taco Bell dogs. They hated me. I just wanted to spend some time with her. That's all." He said, looking shamefaced. Jean moved closer. Fen's eyes widened as he suddenly understood that look!
"She didn't try to call them off of you?" Jean asked softly. She was now standing directly in front of them. He shook his head.
"No. She told me to go away. She couldn't be bothered with a little brat. If I wanted to hang onto someone's apron strings, go to my aunt and uncles house. They'd be more than willing to put up with me. So, I never tried to spend any more time with her. I'd tried every way I knew how to get her attention, even getting in trouble. Nothing worked. She wanted nothing to do with me. So I stopped trying and started staying at my uncle's house. He and my aunt always had a hug for me, a plate at the table and an extra bed for me to sleep in. They practically raised me." He looked at Fen again.
"Michael, you look like you could really use a hug right now. May I hug you?" Jean asked him softly. He slowly let go of Hermione and let Jean wrap her arms around him. Then he laid his head on her shoulder and hugged her back. "Oh, sweetie, come here." Jean couldn't hold back her tears after hearing why he was so afraid of Mr. Perrywinkle. Hermione darted away, straight into the arms of Fenrir. He pulled her close as he watched his son sadly. He'd known the boy's mom had regretted having a child soon after his birth. He hadn't realized the situation had gotten that bad before the boy started staying at his house nearly constantly.