Little Memories

Draco grit his teeth as he stared at Fenrir Greyback, slowly rising from the chair he had been sitting in. The werewolf merely raised a challenging brow at Draco. Charlotte, who barely had enough strength as it was, lifted her head and let it fall back against the chair so she could watch. Her shaky fingers slid into the pocket of her coat and discreetly pulled out her wand.

“Like hell you will,” Draco sneered to the werewolf. The man, who looked more like a wolf than ever, let out a low rumble of a laugh and threw his head back with the extent of it. Draco and the man beside Greyback looked less than enthused with the man’s antics, and didn’t find the situation humorous at all.

“Come on then, Draco,” Greyback taunted as he took a few strides toward the two of them, “you know the orders. You can’t touch her, but I can.” Draco merely snarled at the werewolf, gripping the wand in his hand tightly.

“You should know your place, Greyback,” he growled through gritted teeth. “I could so easily get rid of you and no one would care. It‘s not like you‘re a part of the privileged few.” This only caused the man to roar with laughter, the sound of it sickening as it reverberated off the walls of the Malfoy dining hall.

“Why don’t you do it, then? Go on and kill me.” The werewolf taunted once his laughter had died down. Draco merely stared darkly at him, wishing that he had the guts to get rid of the sad excuse of a wizard, but knew that he could never bring someone’s life to an end, not without a legitimate reason. Greyback turned to the man beside him and let out a few more chuckles. The man beside him look less than pleased as he glanced between the three of them. “See…a coward…just like he was with-”

“Enough,” Charlotte called in a broken, hoarse voice as she stared up at Fenrir Greyback with a dark look. The werewolf merely stared down at her, all hints of humor and jest on his face vanished. “You’re here to deal with me, not with him.” Draco turned and watched Charlotte, noticing how pale her face had grown in such short time. She winced slightly as she moved around in the seat, pressing her hand harder against her ribcage. “And if it’s any consolation, Draco, I know Scabior…and he wouldn’t let Greyback try anything.” Draco looked over to the other man in the room, who was looking around the room curiously.

He let out a heavy breath of air and knelt beside Charlotte, wishing that he had been brave enough to take the punishment for her. She looked down at him with weak blue eyes, and he knew that she needed to get somewhere she could lie down and rest a bit.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay here?” He asked her in a small whisper. Greyback, however, heard it and let out a low groan, rolling his eyes dramatically. The man named Scabior shot him a look before sighing heavily and crossing his arms over his chest.

“I can’t, Draco. You should know that,” she breathed, shaking her head slowly. She drew in a sharp breath of air and bit her bottom lip hard as she slowly tried pushing herself up and out of the chair. Scabior was immediately at her side, gently holding her elbow and helping steady her on her feet. Draco watched the man carefully, trying to understand his motives or if there even were motives.

“Don’t worry, sir,” the man started in a thick Cockney accent, “I’ll make sure Miss. Goyle gets back to ‘er cottage alright.” He glanced over to Greyback who wasn’t paying them the least bit of attention to them. “And I’ll make sure that arsehole doesn’t touch ‘er,” he murmured to Draco, calming some of the unrest that Greyback had ignited.

“Thank you,” he said softly before looking over at Charlotte, who appeared to be in a great deal of pain. She slowly brought her eyes to Draco and swallowed hard as tears of pain welled up in her eyes.

“Could you…could you get in contact with Snape… tell him that’ll I’ll be in need of some pain medicines? I think I’ve broken a few ribs,” she breathed, hoping that she didn’t make him feel guilty. She hated that she didn’t have the means to brew her own potions herself, or even heal her bones, but she was not a nurse. She merely knew how to follow directions in her potions book. Draco nodded wordlessly as his stomach and jaw dropped. He took a step back as Greyback joined her other side, sending Draco a look before they disapparated out of the room. Draco merely ran a shaky hand through his hair, staring at the spot Charlotte had just been in.

The three found themselves in front of the small cottage that Charlotte loved so much, stumbling to the door. It clicked loudly as she approached it and knew that once Fenrir and Scabior walked through the door, it would recognize them as friends to the Goyle’s and would always be allowed in. However, she knew that she would be able to deal with Greyback in any other situation. Scabior pulled open the door while supporting the full weight of Charlotte, since Greyback was doing next to nothing, and they quickly ducked inside.

“You live here?” Greyback asked with a look of distaste as he glanced around the cottage, which could have easily been mistaken as a Muggle home.

“It’s better than where you live,” Scabior retorted as Charlotte pointed them toward the bedroom. Greyback gave a growl as he glared over at Scabior but did nothing. Her stomach gave an uneasily lurch at two men, that weren’t Draco, being in her bedroom. However, she’d dismiss them soon enough, so it wasn’t too bad.

The three stepped into the darkened room and the men guided Charlotte to her bed. Scabior sent a look to Greyback, who was wearing a greasy sort of grin, before gently laying Charlotte down on the messy blankets. He knelt beside the bed, glancing over to Fenrir Greyback before looking back to Charlotte

“Is there anything I could get you before we leave?” He asked softly as the werewolf took to looking around the room, the look of disdain for her living quarters returning to his features.

“No,” Charlotte breathed in a voice more like rasp than anything, “you’ve done enough. Thank you, Scabior.” She managed a small, yet pained smile for him; one that he returned.

“If you ever need anything, don’t ‘esitate to ask me, Miss. Goyle,” the man said softly with a nod as he stood and looked over at Greyback. “Oi’! You! Put that down, it’s not yours! We’re leaving,” he barked at the werewolf; who listened, amazingly, put the crystal bauble he hand in his hands down, and walked from the room. Scabior sent Charlotte a small reassuring smile before leaving the room. Charlotte didn’t relax until she heard the front door close and two loud cracks from just outside the cottage.