Weighted Hearts & Gilded Feathers

Antonin was getting restless in the confines of the Slytherin Castle, he was glad to have Thorfinn with him as he was a good distraction. But it started to look like he’d exchanged one prison for another. 

Sessions with the mind healer had helped clear the cloud Azkaban had placed on his mind. He shivered thinking about how much he’d deteriorated in the last twelve years. He’d prefer an avada than another day in the cells of that prison. 

He sat at a table in the library, dusty tomes scattered around him, his Lord hadn’t given him much to go on. Only told him to research magic seals. He presumed this had something to do with Mattheo but he could be wrong. He got a few glimpses of the boy once they’d arrived from Azkaban but he mostly stayed to himself. Better for him, he’d already collected one stray he didn’t need another to look after. 

Thorfinn sat at the chair opposite him, reading through the tomes as well, and huffing every few minutes at something he was reading. That or he was bored. Probably bored. 

Antonin looked up at Thorfinn, he hurt to look at now, Azkaban had dulled his shine but now. Now he was luminous. His long blonde hair shinned and his checks had filled out, his already bulky frame was now sporting even more muscle. It made the prospect of dominating the man even more tantalizing. 

Everywhere he looked on the wizard Antonin had marked for himself, laying claim so no other could question who had been there before. The piercing in his right eyebrow and gauge in the left earlobe. The bear tattooed on his neck down to the runes tattooed on his knuckles. Antonin had marked him in ways no one would be able to remove without peeling the skin from his bones. Even then they would only return, the tattoos were weaved into his core and would just reappear on the fresh skin. 

His obsession with the wizard had only intensified after their release from Azkaban and he found himself feeling like he owed the younger man a debt. For helping him regain pieces of himself even while in that cell. 

Not long into their now daily research trips in the library, Lord Voldemort strode into the room, and they quickly rose to kneel before him. 

“Thorfinn, I have a discreet mission for you. I trust you’ll use this opportunity to prove your worth to our cause.” 

Thorfinn only nodded his head and Antonin’s brow furrowed, he wondered what mission he was being sent on but knew asking would only enrage the man. 

“You’ll be watching Potter’s mudblood, go in your animagus form, I’ll cast a protection charm on you so that you can’t be forcibly shifted by any suspecting person. You leave tomorrow.” 

Thorfinn, lowered his gaze, “Of course my Lord, I’ll prepare this evening.” 

“There’s already lodging prepared for you near Hogmeade, be careful in the village, and wear a glamour. Dumbledore has Order members posted there, wouldn’t want to find yourself back in Azkaban.” With that the Dark Lord left the room, not once acknowledging Antonin. 

They stood and straightened their robes before catching each other’s eyes. They didn’t need words to communicate with one another, three years in a cell with someone does wonders for silent understanding. 

Antonin’s mind whirled at the prospect of Thorfinn being out of reach. They hadn’t slept separately in years, even here in the castle they would take turns sleeping in each other’s rooms. He sat back down at the desk to resume his research though his mind screamed for him to go to Thorfinn, to comfort him when he was undoubtedly nervous, but he remained steadfast. He avoided his eyes and returned to his reading but Throfinn didn't sit down and cleared his throat before speaking, “I’m just going to get started on packing,” his body language was unsure, he fidgeted with the hem of his robe and hardened his eyes as Antonin inspected him. He wasn't a boy and he needed to prove his worth or he’d end up lower on the totem pole than the Carrows and that wouldn't do. 

So he flicked his gaze back to the tomes in front of him and tipped his head in dismissal of his lover. Antonin would not show weakness in this and refused to allow his obsession to weaken Thorfinn as a result. He was a capable wizard, it was time he showed the others what Antonin already knew. 

Thorfinn grit his teeth at the lack of response from Antonin, he wasn't sure what he was expecting but it wasn't indifference. Thorfinn was afraid to admit he didn't think he could sleep alone any more. Every time he tried he was assaulted by haunting nightmares of his sister and dementors giving him the kiss. He would wake up in a panic and often in his animagus form, his body unconsciously shifting to protect himself from phantom memories. 

He left the room without any other words, it would serve no purpose even if he did choose to say anything, the man was immovable once he made a decision and he had no interest in arguing with a brick wall this evening. 

He’d packed all his belongings in a trunk and was sitting on the couch in front of the fire in his sitting room when he felt the presence of Antonin behind him. He hasn't made a sound, moving like a wraith. The man was an expert at stalking his victims without alerting them to his presence. But Thorfinn had spent years bathing in the unique aura that encompassed Antonin and could pick him out of a crowd with his eyes closed. He raised his cigarette to his lips, “Just come in, don't wait by the door like a vampire,” taking a drag, he exhaled once he heard Antonin’s footsteps near and his silhouette came into his peripheral vision. 

He wanted to break the silence, it stretched between them. A living and tangible thing while each of them grappled with what to say, wanting to voice their opinions but not wanting to break first. It wasn't a point of pride, at least not for Antonin, the only person he held his tongue for was the Dark Lord and Narcissa. No, it wasn't about pride, it was about control. Antonin wanted to force him to speak first, to break the silence like he’d be breaking himself open by voicing his reluctance to leave him. There was so much left unsaid between them. Feelings they each refused to address because they always assumed they’d have time. Time on the outside to explore if these feelings were real or if it was a codependency they’d survived off of. Whether it was simple familiarity or something stronger. 

Thorfinn refused to submit, he knew Antonin was getting gradually more incensed at his silence but he wouldn't be the one to break, not this time. He’d given Antonin the chance to say something downstairs and was rebuffed. He wouldn't open himself up to more disappointment. It was safer for him to start putting Antonin at a distance. Azkaban was a temporary arrangement born from desperation and isolation. Thorfinn didn't need to keep making the same mistake on the outside, besides when this was all over he would be expected to produce an heir for his house. Antonin had no such responsibilities, at least not to the same extent. His family was not a part of Britain's Sacred 28. 

So he sat there and waited, the weight of Antonin’s stare pressing down on him and burning through him in equal measure. He was prowling out of Thorfinn's view, a predator to the core, waiting for the right moment to strike. Finally, he spoke, “Finn.” The sound of his name on Antonin’s tongue shouldn't feel like his beginning and end. It shouldn't cut into his resolve like a diffindo. But it did, and Antonin knew it. He wanted to get up, to turn to Antonin and beg for the reassurance he couldn't provide the man should he ask. 

It wasn’t fair, to ask for something he couldn't give should Antonin bother to ask for it. It was cruel, but when Antonin finally relented and kneeled in front of him Thorfinn was shocked. This man did not kneel, not unless it was to top from the bottom, but his knees touched the floor, looked at Thorfinn eyes ablaze and bent his head to the side exposing his neck. 

Thorfinns cock hardened in his trousers and a low pleased growl rumbled from his chest. He might not be a werewolf but he’d inherited urges and instincts from his animagus form and from the extended amount of time he spent shifting in the last three years, they rose to the surface quicker than they typically would.  

They had tonight at least. This one night before they were separated for the first time in years. 

—--------------------------------- 

Settling into the small cottage on the outskirts of Hogsmeade was a quiet and sobering event. Thorifnn hadn’t lived alone in years, even before getting sent to Azkaban. After Hogwarts, he’d moved back home and kept a small flat in London with Avery. But there had always been someone, whether that be people or elves. 

His first few days in the safe house, he put on glamour and walked through the village, finding multiple Order members posted discreetly throughout. Nymphadora Tonks spent the majority of her time near the Hogshead, at times sitting inside and at others standing outside talking with passersby. 

It wasn't until his fourth day in the village that he transformed and made his way through the forbidden forest. It was mid-March now, and winter was giving way to spring, despite the occasional flurry that fell over the Scottish highlands. It was quiet, but not in the way that Azkaban had been, he could hear the leaves rustle in the canopy towering over him and water as it rushed over stones in a brook nearby. He didnt know how long it had been since he’d been free to revel in his form, he no longer had to transform to protect himself from the dementors. 

Now. 

Now he was free, and with that thought he crouched and bounded off through the forest, the earthy yet clean smell of the moss-covered ground and the crunching as his paws occasionally hit leaves. 

Thorfinn ran until his lungs heaved from exertion and his hind legs burned. When he finally stopped he found himself at the edge of the forest, the shore of the Black lake calling to him like it had in his school days. He didnt think he’d ever be here again, his heart calming as he padded towards the water. He frost creeping over the shore before dipping his head to lap at the water. 

The shore of the black lake had always been a refuge for him, Freya had brought him to a large boulder jutting out of the water. It had been just big enough for the both of them to sit and told him that it was the best place on the castle grounds. A place where she found peace. It was a few hundred metres to his left now, closer to the castle but he couldnt bring himself to sit on their boulder. Not without her. Not without his Freya. 

After lying down, resting his head on his paws and watching the giant squid for a while, his eyes drifted shut, only to spring open at the sound of a scream. He scrambled to stand, his face whipping around in search of the source of the sound. It didnt take long for him to notice a girl with long curling chestnut hair, hands clenched and held against her chest. She was bowed at the waist as she screamed towards the lake. 

He approached slowly, carefully glancing around him in search of other students in the surrounding area. It was dusk, late for a student to be out especially considering the chill. It wasn’t until he neared that he realised she was the girl he was sent to watch over, sitting on his boulder. The one he’d shared with Freya. He glanced towards the sky and sent a quick prayer, thanking her for sending the girl to him. 

He shuffled closer, stopping once he was a few metres away, trying to look non-threateningso he didnt scare her away. She was crying, her small body quaking as tears flooded her cheeks. He let out a low whine before he could stop himself. He wasn't sure if it was the tears themselves or the fact that she was kneeling in his Freya’s spot but the sight of her crying left an ache in his chest. Her eyes snapped to him at the sound of his lament, widening comically while her body stiffened. He cocked his head to the side and dipped it low, hunching his shoulders and baring his neck in submission. It wouldn't do well to have her frightened by him. 

She sniffled but her faceremained swollen and red, she chuckled to herself for a moment, throwing her hair back in the breeze, the light casting a fetching glow on her face, before descending into sobs once again. She was hysterical, crying and laughing at the same time. He whined again tucking his tail and approaching her until nuzzled into her side, his right paw now resting on her thigh. Surprisingly, she wasn't frightened by his approach and swiftly adjusted, curling over him, burrowing her head into his neck, hugging him, her hands sinking into his fur before curling. 

She was holding him. 

This little witch was so unafraid of the big bad wolf that she embraced him like a long-lost love. 

Whatever had made her cry, made her feel so distraught, it outweighed the risk of a predator from the Forbidden Forest. At least in this moment. 

He realised that she just needed someone at that moment, something to hold as she purged whatever feelings were overwhelming her. He inched closer, his heart aching yet warmed at the same time by her embrace. He hadn't been touched by a woman in years, let alone held. 

Not like this. 

Not since losing his Freya. 

He knew what his mission was, he was supposed to observe the girl and report back to his lord. He knew this. But as he breathed in her scent, vanilla and jasmine, he realised she smelled like the wildflowers that grew outside his ancestral home. The same wildflowers he’d braid into Freya's hair. He couldn’t help but feel like the complexity of this mission had increased tenfold. He would be loyal to his cause, his new Lord, but he didnt want to see anything happen to this little witch. Not if he could prevent it.