"Oh, you'd be surprised what a few years can make," he told him easily, holding the bottle loosely in his fist, letting it hang down to drag against the forest floor. Unlike most dirt, the soil of the Forbidden Forest seemed to have its own type of quality. It was hard by itself, but the constant treading of the centaurs and unicorns seemed to have smoothed out the beautiful ground to make it the perfect spot to sit. Fenrir stretched his legs out in front of him as one hand leaned back and held him up, the other letting the bottled gather dirt against the bottle of the bottle as the condensation gathered it up like a collection agency.
"Ah, you listen far too much to rumors that have no basis," Fenrir said, waving off the comments of bestiality. After all, it wasn't bestiality if both parties were transformed. Then it just so happened to be two wolves having a little fun. "But no, MacNair, what I meant is that I wouldn't have to eat you if you were younger. Perhaps then you would be proper enough to be more used to me bitten than not, eh? Until then... I guess I'll just have to take you as you are."
Fenrir grinned nastily, practically laughing at him as he seemed to almost pout about how the Ministry liked him. "Oh, right," he chuckled. "The Ministry's little pet has to be sober." Having been all across Europe, the accent neither caught his attention nor bothered him. He had heard far thicker sounding things falling from people's mouths, and as far as he was concerned, nothing sounded more disgusting than the accent of a yank. The scottish sound was a far cry from that. "I kid, MacNair, but I'm glad you approve of the drink choice. I don't like asking for favors," he admitted, "but I never ask for one without treating them to a gift first. This is my gift to you."
Greyback narrowed his eyes as MacNair made the comment. He turned to look in the direction where he knew that Hogwarts lay. Never before had he heard of a werewolf being allowed in the school, and not having eyes or ears within the Ministry, he had not heard anything about that. Certainly, if there was a werewolf in the school, it would have been the talk of the town? Unless it was a secret, then that would be more interesting than Fenrir would care to admit. "Unlikely," he muttered, but he had a thoughtful look on his face. "Unless you've heard something? A werewolf in Hogwarts... now that'd be something to see." He couldn't stop the malicious grin that spread across his face at the idea. He looked MacNair curiously. "The father's name is Jonathan Lupin. I don't know the boy's name, but he's about fifteen years old now. So... if he is in Hogwarts, a fourth year or fifth year, I'd guess."