Fenrir wasn't exactly sure how he'd gotten into this. Children were one thing. He had lots of them. The ones that knew him usually hated him. He almost preferred it that way. There were a lot more, he knew, that didn't know he existed. Their mothers were sure enough about sleeping with him, but when they realized Fenrir seemed to be blessed--or cursed--with being able to produce a great many offspring, suddenly it wasn't such a status anymore to sleep with him. Oh well, at his age, he honestly didn't give sex much thought anymore. He wasn't entirely dead, but still, there were other things in life now.
Like this child. He could see through the scheme being tossed at him. The child's mother, Elisha Ardens by name, had been charmed enough when he was with her. Now, he figured, she was finding it more difficult to raise a child. That was her problem. However, she was out to make it his by thrusting their child at him--a daughter. This one threw Fenrir out of his element. She actually wasn't able to see Fenrir for the murderous, cold hearted thug that he'd turned out to be, more animal than man, more heartless than parental.
It really would have been far easier to "eat" Elisha and get it overwith. But, now, that was pointless. That would mean he'd actually have to raise this clueless young girl who was totally enamoured with him. He figured that Elisha was thrusting her upon him in search of some claim of parental support. Part of him already hated Elisha for that. Not because someone actually thought he had money. He was used to that. But that a mother would actually toss out her own child like a worm on a hook, attempting to ensnare Fenrir's bank account? That galled him. Infuriated him. And, so far, he had tolerated visits with this child.
Elizabeth. That was her name. 13 going on, well, 10? Something before any real knowledge base of the wizarding world, anyway. Surely as a third year the girl had heard all about his evil deeds, but she stood in denial somehow, believing him to be parent material. He didn't want to be a parent to an ignorant all-too-sweet child, but neither did he want to leave her being used by her mother for money. That was too much of a reminder of how he'd grown up, without anyone to really care about him.
And so here he found himself again, agreeing to see her again, another owl sent to him by Elisha wanting Fenrir to "take her" for the afternoon. Bloody hell. This wasn't some happy little divorce where he had his child every other weekend. He was a monster, a werewolf, who lived in the catacombs, and came out at night when he had something thuggish to accomplish to keep his pack fed. And yet, here he was, waiting at the crossroads to Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley, hidden in the shadows today by a long full grey suede duster coat with the hood pulled up to hide him a bit. Not that hiding someone of Fenrir's overall size was easy anyway, but it was an attempt.
He was a bit less unkempt today. Well, he had never been in his true unkempt state, just by coincidence, when he'd seen her, and he didn't see sense in going to see her looking overly grizzly. She'd learn in time. Perhaps today just didn't need to be it. She had figured out he was a sarcastic, candid, and just generally grouchy old fart. She was determined that she loved him anyway.
He had reasonable children. And then he had this one--this one who sorta was looking to him like she was perhaps a bit crackers. He'd have preferred to meet her in Knockturn, but she wasn't wise enough to keep herself safe there. He had visions of her skipping merrily off with some dark arts old crone and calling her "Granny" and then forcing Fenrir to "eat" Granny just to get Liza out. No thank you. He preferred they avoid that little sort of disaster. He was hoping she didn't want to go to Fortescue's for ice cream or something equally as docile. He just wasn't sure he would be welcome in the gentler parts of the wizarding world.
He pushed back slightly into the shadows, waiting and watching.