Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Chapter IJust a few more meters and a door separated him from salvation. A big hand collided with the wall right before him. Remus gave an exasperated sigh and closed his eyes.
„Where are you going?" With another sigh he opened them again. He turned his head and looked into the angry eyes of his friend.
„What do you care where and why and with whom I'm going?" His voice was tired. „Now, let me through...please." Sirius didn't move an inch, but what did he expect.
„Where are you going?" Shaking his head at him Remus once again closed his eyes and vanished. To reapear behind Sirius, just out of reach. He opened the door and stepped out of the flat.
„It won't take long, I'll be back in an hour or so."
„If you go now, you don't have to come back here." Sirius turned, his hands clenched into fists. The other only raised a brow.
„I'm afraid I have to. I haven't packed yet." Without looking back he went down the stairs.
---
It was cool outside, although it was a sunny october day. Remus resisted the urge to turn and look up to the window on the second floor. He knew Sirius would stand there, watching him walking down the street.
And he hated it. Hated to look in his friend's suspicious eyes every time he would go to meet someone he couldn't tell Sirius of. Hated to fight because of every simple thing he was doing or not doing. He just hated it.
Well, it was for a good purpose and in any case it was to late now. Considering how stubborn Sirius was and that his pride forbid him to ask for another chance it seemed he had to leave their shared flat. Or rather Sirius' flat he shared with Remus.
Perhaps he could live a few days at the Potter's and than find a place of his own. Some run-down cottage without flowing water for example.
He reached a dark, narrow side-street and hesitated for a moment. He looked down the street he was on. It was a mixed neighbourhood. The muggles living here knew about the wizards among them and ignored their strange behavior most of the time. But not only wizarding and non-wizarding folk was mixed, also the culteres. There were indian and chinese people, a few familiys from Germany and France, americans.
It was hard to leave this all behind, but his decision was made. He wasn't going to stay here with Sirius, it was better this way.
He turned. He would go a small distance and then he would disapparate. Well, it was a nice plan, even when it went black.
---
...Two, three, turn. One, two, three, turn. Sirius was pacing through the small kitchen. Still fuming he tried to realize what had just happend.
Almost an hour had passed since Remus had left. Any moment he would be back to pack his few belongings and leave again and this time forever.
„Damn." The loud exclamation of his thoughts went unheard. He kicked the kitchen table angrily, it scrapped over the floor and he did the only thing he could think of. He waited.
He didn't want to believe what seemed so obvious. Remus, intelligent, caring Remus, who always was afraid of the possibility of him hurting someone, simply couldn't be a Death Eater. It didn't make sense, but who else could be the spy. James spying on himself, very unlikely, and Peter was to dumb. He knew it was mean, but he just didn't believe him capable of living a double life.
But Remus could live with a secret. He has proven it many times. Too many times, Sirius would confront him when he came back to get his things. He would just grab his arm and pull up the sleeve and then he would see. Or not.
A loud tapping sound made him jump. It came from the window in Remus' room. A huge dark owl was impatiently scratching at the wooden frame. Sirius hesitated only for a second before he let it in. Immediately the owl streched out its leg with a rolled up parchment bound to it. Only one word was scribbled on it in black ink. Lupin.
Hastily he untied the black ribbon and let the owl fly out again. Sinking down on a nearby chair he examined it. A piece of parchment brought by an almost black owl, tied to its leg with a black ribbon, written in black ink. This had to be the sign he was waiting for.
No time was wasted anymore, instead he ripped it open and instantly threw it away. Green flames burned the letter until nothing was left.
He burried his head in his hands, overhelmed when realisation dawned on him. „Damn."
---
He didn't know how long he had been staring at the small water-puddle in a far corner of the room which wasn't getting bigger, although it dropped of the ceiling.
Slowly he turned onto his back. Piercing pain shot through his spine. He wasn't even bound anymore, they knew he was to weak to even try getting away.
He hadn't expected it to be like this. Hadn't expected it to be this different. He knew pain, had experienced it all his life. But this wasn't only physical pain, it was – humilitation. The worst of all.
„Twinkle, twinkle little pain", he said softly, „ in my groin and in my brain, down so low and up so high, will you live or will I die?" His whisper faided into nothingness.
„Quoting Westlake now, are you? Writing things onto the ceiling, too?"The sleek voice of his tormentor came from the door. Light steps brought him nearer to his protégé.
„But that was quite...gloomy. Don't you know something funny?"He could feel the warm breath at his ear, when he bend down close to him.
„Beat me up before you go-go -"He drew away abruptly with a small laugh.
„That, was poor, Lupin."
„- I don't want to miss it when you hit that high..."
„Ow, stop! Please, you don't want me doing things I might regret later." He blinked his eyes open. The water-puddle didn't get any bigger, perhaps there was a hole underneath.
„Well, back to business if you don't mind. What did you say you were working on? The project, I mean."He rested his lean body against the wall.
„I didn't...", Remus whispered.
He sighed and pushed himself of the wall. Slowly he made his way over to where the pitiful figure was huddled on the floor. „I know, but as much as I hate it, I will have to force an answer out of you."
„I won't speak."
„You're such a kill-joy."
---
Hesitatingly he approached the figure at the window his head hold in a humble bow. The robes rustled against dry skin as the Dark Lord turned to greet his servant.
"Is there something you wish to tell me?"
He looked up and met the gleeming red eyes of his master. "My Lord, the werewolf keeps being stubborn. I've tried everything I'm capable of, but he just won't speak. Didn't even lower his mental defences. If you'd just allow me to use silver, Master, I..."
He was silenced by an almost unnoticeable gesture. His master commanded him forwards and he obeyed, dreading and anticipating what might await him.
Two silver coins were pressed into his open palm and bony fingers closed it to a fist. Puzzled eyes flew up to be met with unhidden malignity.
"They have just the seize of his eyes."
Author's Note: Some things are only understandable, when you've read 'The Winner' by Donald E. Westlake. Oh, and the song metioned is 'Wake me up before you go-go' by Wham. But I think it's published in 1984 or 1985, so it's to late. Who cares?
