UsernameEmailRegionInterestAOL IMICQ IDYahoo! IDMSN IDJabber

For all that Amery had told Grayson he would eventually have to start functioning like a normal Death Eater, covering his tracks more solidly -- he hadn't believed it until the fall of the Dark Lord. Things had really gone to shit in the last few months, though. With both Bellatrix and Rabastan in prison, he really had nobody to turn to that he could express his baser desires to because he'd started to have to hide things from the rest of the world. Being found out as a Death Eater now would result at the very least in his incarceration; if they traced his wand to some of the crimes that he'd committed, he doubted he would last too many days in Azkaban before receiving the kiss.

His mind had taken it upon itself to start growing spotty. Perhaps it was a defense mechanism, perhaps it was a result of his less-than-stellar mental health record. Either way, it had gotten to the point where it was too difficult for him to coexist with other people in the house. The house elves had taken it upon themselves to stay as far out of his way as possible as well; as a result, the house was spotless.

He hadn't been expecting guests, but Ophelia's voice -- even in his current state -- was familiar. He didn't want to think too hard on exactly why, since he was sure that he must've married a blonde pureblood, but ... well, there it was.

He recognized Anya and knew the girl's name, though. He wondered if Ophelia had brought the girl here to see him. Grayson turned the corner into the foyer. He looked unstable, true, but in large part it was exhaustion that overshadowed that for now. Sleep had been difficult for some time, now.

"...yes?" His gaze slid down over to Anya, watching his daughter. She looked much bigger than she had before -- had it really been so long? The idea was ... unsettling, as he had little recollection of that much time passing.