Perfectly in Pieces

Chapter 3: Draco

TW!! - Physical and sexual abuse inferred. Gore.

As always, all rights of characters and worlds are reserved to J.K. Rowling
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Fenrir Greyback is here.

He can hear his horrendously loud howl of a laugh from the entryway as he steps out of the floo into the Greengrass manor the Dark Lord was using as a base.

Walking quickly, he heads in its direction without really thinking, the opposite way of where he needs to go to hand in the paperwork and also go through the memory extraction process. He doesn't care. He has to know.

If he is wearing the bloody scarf....

He stops in the hallway. What would he do if he was? Honestly, what could he do if he was?

Burn this whole fucking world to the ground with me in it...

No he couldn't do that. Not now. Not yet at least. He had to be smart about this. He had to have a plan.

A plan with a foundation built by emotions, not driven by them.

He closes his eyes and starts to build the walls needed to think clearly, efficiently, strategically. If he was wearing the scarf, would it be better or worse? Would it be better to know? Or was it better to be in the dark with the small chance...

Come on, there is no one else in here at the moment, at least be honest with yourself, you haven't held any weight to that small chance in over a month.
No, that isn't true.
Isn't it?
No it's not.
Then why have you stopped looking for her? Why are you focusing solely on finding pieces of her instead?

The thoughts make his stomach turn. He was right. He had stopped believing she was alive over a month ago. Around the same time all the rumors and gossip switched from talk about where she was, to finding out what happened to her. His mind had agreed that the likelihood of the Dark Lord keeping her as some trophy this long was irrational. Potter and the Weasel had never even retaliated, or tried to save her for all he knew.

The Order had been silent for the most part after the Battle of Hogwarts 6 months ago. The largest pain in the arse they were causing the Dark Lord, was a whispered creation of a secret system for saving muggles and muggle-born wizards from the areas where genocide was taking place. That system undeniably involved hidden safe houses. Hence his assignment the last 6 months.

It was a fluff of a mission compared to the ones the higher seated Death Eaters were willing or being forced to take part in.
After his punishment for his performance at the Battle of Hogwarts, he enlisted himself, Theo, Blaise, Daphne, and Pansy to a unit to focus on this increasing headache.

They all agreed it was one of the only assignments they could stomach, or at least they thought they could. That changed when one of their leads had been accurate and they were forced to take part in a night none of them would ever forget.

After the massacre, looking down at his hands, the hands that had just killed Luna Lovegood, he knew Granger was gone. Probably gone a long time ago. And so was he.

He opens his eyes again as the walls become unbreakable. He cracks his shoulders and begins to walk purposefully towards the voices.

It is time to know. I'm so tired... It's time for this to be over.

He rounds the corner into a large dining room three people sit in. Dolohov is seated closest to him smoking a cigarette, and playing with a small item in his hand. His father is sitting next to him shooting back a glass of some type of liquor. His eyes aren't in the room. His father has been gone a long time... They are both looking at the man across from them who is still making that chalk scraping sound of a laugh.