49
OLLIE, ever since returning home to his family's estate had begun spending increasingly more and more time by himself, much to his grandmother Baba's chagrin, despite her efforts to get him to attend meetings that the Dark Lord held in his own home, he adamantly refused.
In the beginning, after his abrupt departure from Headquarters, when he'd returned to the only place he could think of, home, he had told himself that leaving had been the right thing to do. He'd forced himself to believe in that decision. Tonks and Lupin had tried months ago to talk some sense into their friend, only for him to not want to hear their lies and angrily dismissed them. He didn't even care to learn that his best mate was pregnant, and they were hoping he would be the second godfather to their baby alongside Sirius. He'd sent them away.
He'd closed off his heart and mind and fought against his brain to accept that such a decision was better for all of them.
At least this way, no one would get hurt. His newfound sense of honor understood that he had an obligation to try to do what he could to find Norah. Of course, that had been the consequences of the Legilimens' actions before he had realized already too late how deeply he cared for the werewolf, and how badly he had hurt her. But Merlin, he'd screamed at her and hit her.
It had only been a few months since the night of the most painful choice of his life, but still, it burned him like he'd made it just yesterday. He'd give anything to take it back, take it all back. It was the memories of his time with the prickly blonde little werewolf, his former partner in the Order, and the knowledge of how badly Ollie had hurt her, that pained the man the very most.
The unbearable constricting tightness in his chest that rendered that damned feeble muscle in his chest to a throbbing mass of corded muscle, that he wished would just give out on him already, whenever thoughts of Jameson would seep unbidden into his mind, which was almost nearly constant now.
The image of Norah's distraught face as she stood in the living room parlor of Grimmauld Place and begged for him to just hear her out, to listen to her, haunted him. He saw her in his dreams. He saw her when he woke up.
Her image burned his retinas, even when his eyes were closed. They were so far apart, Merlin only knew where she had gone.
Ollie ached for Norah to return even one of his letters, though he had no idea if she was even receiving one.
She had managed to send the first letter back unopened after he had used his connections at the Ministry to track down her address in the Werewolf Registration archives down in the Administrations department after bribing the witch that worked there with a bag of Galleons and a blindingly white, charming smile that had made the older witch swoon in awe.
He hated resorting to using his handsome features in that method, but desperate times called for desperate measures. She'd sent the first one back, telling him not to bother to find her again. The rest of his letters remained unopened, their wax seals still intact.
Perhaps it was better that he was out of Norah's life before he poisoned her with his evil. It was the only small semblance of peace that he could find. Knowing that his leaving had protected Norah. He'd tried to hurt her.
After what she had done, Ollie had tried to make himself hate the werewolf. She had slept with him, marked him as her mate, and had betrayed him. And yet, he still craved her, like a drug, and she, his addiction.
He felt like the moment that Jameson did come back if she came back at all, he'd be cold and lifeless the moment she entered, with nothing but air between the floor and his feet. But only if Norah could really know.
If she could know just how much, deep in his twisted mind and psyche that he loved her. He dreamt of her every night, showering her with kisses. He'd never gotten to say that he loved her. Theirs had proven to be a volatile and awful affair thus far, but she was his light in the darkness. Norah saw him, through him…drowned him, revived him, and drowned him again, and he craved it.
He wanted it back, but he could not have it. It was the only peace he could find, knowing that leaving and returning home was hopefully protecting Norah. He'd tried to hurt her, had wanted Norah to hate him. It was the only way that he could ensure the werewolf's safety, by spreading false trails of her whereabouts, as Greyback and a few other wolves in his Pack were still searching for her. He knew that if he declared the truth, his love for her, that such a proclamation would somehow inspire the bravery within the former Gryffindor, and she would try to see him.
His week, feeble heart almost stopped its rhythmic beating as he thought of what would happen to Norah if she were to try. Greyback or the Dark Lord would have had Jameson slaughtered for her failure to retrieve the information that the Dark Lord had asked for, and her own adopted father would surely rip out her throat for not following through with her task of getting closer to him.
Ollie stiffened at that thought. He knew Fenrir wanted him dead for murdering his own brother. Well. He could come and get him. If his death would ensure that Jameson would no longer be a target in her own father's eyes, then he'd duel Greyback to the death if that's what it took to ensure the werewolf who held his heart whether he liked or not stayed alive another day.
The Dark Lord had ordered Fenrir's attentions elsewhere for the time being, so that had, thank Merlin, put a stop to Greyback's vendetta against him for murdering his brother during the summer when he and the other Order members had responded to call to save Harry at the Department of Mysteries.
Greyback had been sent to the outskirts of Scotland, supposedly to recruit and turn more werewolves to the Dark Lord's cause of gathering mass followers at his command. Ollie had not heard hide nor hair of the wolf since then. He'd been tempted, with Greyback temporarily relocated to contact Norah, to try to locate her and talk to her, but had so far, managed to restrain himself from it. No. It was the last thing he could do for Norah.
He gave himself up to keep her safe. On those nights that sleep would not come for him, he'd crawl from his bed and watch the twinkling night stars in the sky. He tried to assuage his guilt and comfort herself, thinking that at least Norah was under those same stars, but his mind would think how they paled in comparison to the wolf's burning blue eyes, and his heart would break all over.
There were hundreds of times as the months dragged on that he wished he'd caved and turned around and gone back to Headquarters or to the Ministry to see if he could track down where she was hiding. But if there was anyone who knew how not to be found, it was a wolf.
Now more than ever, Ollie wished he could fall at Jameson's feet and grovel in front of her and beg Norah to forgive him.
He'd spend eternity by her side trying to win her back if that's what it took of him. He'd sacrifice himself if only he could take back his words the night he'd left and had hurt Norah so badly. But Ollie recognized that it was impossible. She'd made it painstakingly clear by sending back his letters unopened that she wanted nothing more to do with him.
And as long as Baba was alive, and Greyback too, for that matter, who Baba, he was surprised to learn, had the savage werewolf under her thumb at her beck and call by order of Voldemort himself, lived, and he was not by his grandmother's side, then Norah would never be safe. Her life would always be at risk, and that was not a gamble he could take. He'd made his choice that night.
And now, he would have to live with it. Sometimes, he wished the outcome had been different. But all he could think of was Norah, and how relieved he was that she had at least had the good sense to stay hidden and that she was safe.
Wherever she was. Ollie had taken up the mantle of personal protector to his grandmother as she'd carried out orders for the Dark Lord's cause, all the while feeding information alongside Severus to Dumbledore and the rest of the Order when he was alone.
He told Baba whatever lie his grandmother needed to hear and believe to keep Norah and Lupin and Tonks and the rest of the Order safe and resigned himself to the dismal fact that the protection he gave that was afforded by his absence was going to have to be the greatest act of affection and love he could show not only to his friends but to the witch he'd hurt.
Then, these last seven months of being back at home, came the day that he realized, not even that was enough. He stood at attention in the dining room of his family's lavish manor, behind his grandmother's chair, guarding Baba, listening to the old bitch of a witch conduct the business of the Dark Lord in her usual quiet but rather threatening way.
All the while, his mind was a thousand miles away reliving every moment he'd spent with Norah, even the bad ones. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to hide his preoccupied thoughts of Norah from his grandma. It was also hard for the man to veil his contempt and disdain for the bitch. Suddenly, Baba's words shook him from his melancholic state of mind then.
"What news have you of the Dark Lord's attempts to infiltrate the Ministry?" Baba Yaga questioned the Death Eater standing at the opposite end of the table before her. Evan Rosier.
His attention quickly became focused upon the conversation between Rosier and his grandmother, and any news this man might have to report on.
"It appears that our initial attempts so far are proving successful, my lady," the older Death Eater calmly relayed. "Dolohov was injured in a skirmish involving a Remus Lupin while tailing the man in Diagon Alley, but Dolohov was able to Disapparate in time to get to St. Mungo's." A sly smirk crossed the man's filthy face. "The werewolf and its mate survived and are expected to bring forth their cub any day now if the stupid bitch hasn't birthed it already," Rosier added, with a look of disgust twisting his features into a scowl.
Baba's expression darkened. "Really? A cub?" His grandmother swiveled her gaze and craned her neck to look at her grandson over her shoulder and chuckled morosely. Any news of Lupin and Tonks' happiness—his friends—were most definitely unwelcome.
Ollie stiffened, a muscle in his jaw twitching, but he said nothing, ensuring that his expression remained quite blank.
"Well, then." Baba sighed, almost sounding disappointed when Ollie did not react in the way that she had hoped. She changed the subject. "Is that all, dear?" Her tone seemed almost a little too knowing as she waited in anticipation.
"There is one more thing, Ms. Yaga," Evan Rosier announced, drawing in a deep breath, though his gaze remained fixed on Ollie, waiting to see his reaction.
Baba scooted closer to the edge of her seat. "Go on," she prodded eagerly. She turned slightly towards Ollie as if waiting to see what his expression was going to be depending on Rosier's news.
"My scouts and I were able to locate Greyback's little bitch. His daughter, Norah Jameson? But she's evaded capture and has since gone missing," Rosier reported, almost with sick glee.
Ollie froze, feeling his heart leap into his throat. He started to step away from out behind Yaga's chair, but he realized how the action would be viewed by Baba.
He forced himself to remain standing on legs that could barely stand. He grabbed onto the handle of his wand as though he thought that could bear his weight and help him to stand.
"Oh, dear," Baba Yaga voiced with false and exaggerated concern as the bitch turned around to look at Ollie. "That's your…little friend, isn't it, Oliver?" Her tone came close to mocking. Baba turned back around in her chair and returned her questions to Rosier.
Rosier said nothing, merely waited.
"Please, dear, pray to tell us how this came about," she inquired, sounding a bit too concerned, Ollie thought, frowning.
The man nodded and consented. Ollie could only half pay attention to Evan Rosier's words as he launched into how a few men under his command spotted the blonde werewolf just outside the Forest of Dean and had managed to give him and a few Snatchers the slip, jinxing one with a well-aimed Stinging Jinx, and almost killing another.
By the time Rosier had finished telling Baba Yaga and Ollie what had happened, Ollie's heart pounded so damned audibly loud in his chest that he thought it grow wings and fly right out.
"From what I heard, this wolf was—is-quite a skilled little dog," Baba corrected herself and feigned concern.
Ollie kept his lips clamped tightly shut. He thought he was going to be violently sick, not only at his grandmother's false praise of Norah's abilities as a duelist but also from his own fear for the witch's well-being.
"I do hope nothing dreadful has happened to Greyback's little cub," Baba Yaga finished, her voice lingering on the more dreadful parts of her sentence as she turned in her chair to fully regard Ollie's reaction and was not displeased.
Ollie stiffened, his breaths catching in his throats as he forced himself to breathe.
He could feel his grandmother's stare burning holes into his very skull.
His jaw was cut like steel, his fists were clenched into tight knots at his sides. All he wanted to do was Disapparate from this fucking depressing house that bore too many bad memories for him and race to Merlin knew where to start looking for Norah, to find his girl. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Ollie didn't dare move a single muscle.
He could not let Grandmother know that his heart was now little more than a terrified, quivering muscle in his chest.
The only way he knew the damned thing was still beating was the sound of the blood roaring in his deafened ears. He was not aware he'd gone pale. His mind churned with fear and questions. What had happened?
Where was she? Oh, gods, oh, Merlin! Was Norah laying injured or dead in a ravine somewhere? Had she managed to Disapparate to another part of the country or even a new one altogether?
How could she have been gone for so damn long with no traces? He wanted to throw back his head and scream. Ollie bit down hard on his tongue in order not to yell a tirade to the ceiling now.
Where was she?! It was a question he would ask him for the coming days as the days passed into weeks when he would stare up at the sky in the dark of night by his window.
Ollie now prayed to Merlin, that ancient warlock, and he himself was not a spiritual man, to find Norah and to keep the wolf safe. To watch over her, and somehow reunite him with her.
He tried to sneak a message to Tonks and Lupin, who had taken his advice and had gone into hiding at a separate cabin at an undisclosed location while Tonks was pregnant and due with their baby, with only Sirius as their location's Secret-Keeper.
But it was more difficult to do, given the increased Death Eater activity and the Dark Lord hosting meetings in his estate.
Ollie had written his letter begging Tonks for any word of Norah a number of times, as his girlfriend and former Order partner was a good friend to Tonks and there was a slim possibility that she might have tried to contact her.
But Baba never allowed her grandson to leave her side when he wasn't asleep or suffering from one of his migraines, so the Legilimens could find no way to send it.
The man became a walking phantasm, little more than a ghost, overwhelmed with secret grief and heartache for Norah Jameson.
One day, during a meeting with none other than that bastard Augustus Rookwood, a man whom Ollie still owed twice over with a solid Cruciatus Curse for hurting Norah, twice, he'd had enough.
Unable to stomach being underneath the same roof with a wretch like Rookwood, Ollie gnashed his teeth and turned on his heels to go, much to Baba's ire.
"Where are you going?" she hissed meanly at her grandson through gritted teeth.
"Anywhere I don't have to look at you," Ollie spewed hatefully in return in his anger.
"But you have nowhere else to go, Oliver," Baba pointed out in a haughty tone. "No one is going to take you in after you returned here," his grandmother reminded him. "Your precious little friends in the Order will certainly not accept you after you allied yourself with us," she declared. "I am all you've got, boy," Baba Yaga barked harshly.
Ollie glowered at the Russian-Slavic witch. He knew his grandmother spoke the truth. There was every possibility that Lupin and Tonks wouldn't trust him after he'd left to return home.
Especially after the way he had brushed off their visit to his home months ago and had turned them both away in a fit of ire.
Even if he did, and even if he found Norah alive and well somehow, she surely wouldn't want to see him, would not want him, not after what he'd done to her in his rage.
If she weren't even there at Lupin and Tonks's, then what the hell was the point?
He knew his grandmother was right, that there was truly no other place for him but right here. His actions had more or less confirmed this. He was a walking Inferi, a dead man, without Norah by his side anyway, so what would it matter anymore? Nothing.
He breathed out a defeated-sounding sigh as he turned on his heels and slammed the door of the dining room behind him.
Ollie reluctantly, against his better judgment, stayed. He did his duty in guarding his grandmother and letting the Dark Lord host his meetings here in his dining room, but he did not speak to Baba if he could help it.
The animosity grew between grandmother and grandson as the months passed. Lupin had sent a letter once with no return address on it saying that Tonks had given birth to their son, named for Dora's father, Teddy Remus Lupin, a fine wizard in the making, and when Ollie was ready to meet his godson, to go and see Sirius to get the location of their cottage, or to arrange a meetup in a public location.
But Ollie couldn't even manage to pretend to care about that.
He barely spoke to Baba, and Yaga's anger constantly seethed in Ollie's direction. Ollie was more or less a prisoner in his own home, with the spells set in place around his family's manor set by Yaga that prevented him from Disapparating off of the property.
Constantly, the Legilimens watched for an opening to escape. To free himself from his grandmother's clutches and leave to search for Norah, praying that she was still alive.
But Yaga never left him alone.
Other Death Eaters, lower ones in the ranking than he was, followed him day and night. Finally, Ollie began to lose hope. He started to wish that she would just kill him and put him out of his hopeless anguish.
So, the endless days passed for Ollie. Merlin only knew how many months later that he stood in his usual spot in their dining room behind his grandmother's chair.
He wished that any one of the Death Eaters under Voldemort's command would make an attempt on her life. He wouldn't stop them if one of them got in their minds to try to kill Yaga. He'd let them have the old bitch.
Growing weary of the meetings, Ollie started to leave, taking a few steps from Yaga. But Baba stopped him, looking more than surprised and a little hurt at his leaving.
"Oh, Oliver, dear," she protested. "But you cannot leave now."
The old witch's pseudo-sweetness made Ollie want to puke.
"You will miss your lovely surprise," she said.
"What?" Ollie grunted, looking at his grandmother sideways out of the corner of his peripherals, wondering what fresh hell and torture she had in store for him at this meet.
Baba Yaga motioned to a pair of Death Eaters, newer recruits, ones Ollie didn't recognize, who quickly marched out of the dining room to retrieve the object she spoke of.
"Tch," he scoffed and rolled his eyes to himself and sighed impatiently, biting at the wall of his mouth.
He was in no fucking mood to be toyed with, so whatever it was, it had better be good, or he'd unleash all holy hell.
Baba Yaga waited, perhaps a little too excited, perched on the edge of her seat at the end of the long wooden rectangular table in the dining room, drumming her long, blackened fingernails on the table's surface.
After an insufferable wait, the door at the opposite end of the room burst open, the door rattling in its iron-rusted hinges.
The first wave of Death Eaters rushed in and took their appropriate places alongside the sides of the table.
Another throng of escorts entered the room, led by Greyback himself. Ollie's blood chilled in his veins at the sight of the wolf.
In their midst, was a prisoner, growling, savage, and snarling, a smudge of dirt on her cheeks, and looking bruised and beaten within an inch of her life. The prisoner of Baba's was of short stature, with short blonde hair cut in a short pixie.
Her black lace dress was tattered and torn, her black combat boots dirtied, tracking slight mud over the floor as she was more or less dragged inside the room.
His grandmother's captive writhed and snarled underneath Fenrir Greyback's iron grip, though a fat lot of good it did her.
The group of Death Eaters that had just entered the room had only made it a few paces over the threshold of the dining room that separated the mass meeting room from the rest of the hallway when Ollie's heart stopped, and the color drained from his face with realization as Baba's prisoner lifted her gaze and a pair of strikingly bright cobalt blue eyes met his own and shot him a pleading look.
The hostage in Greyback's grips was Norah, and the man had beaten his own daughter within an inch of her very life.