Title: A Wolf by Any Other Name

Summary: AU, Multi-chaptered. Remus goes undercover in Voldemort's army. This chapter, Remus leaves.

Rating: M

Warnings: Slashy boyxboy. Later chapters will contain more slash plus graphic violence.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, J.K. Rowling does.

A/N: Ok, this is my first attempt at publishing stuff I write. Right now, this looks to be rounding out at about 11ish chapters, and I am going to try to publish one chapter a week. This is going to be M for a reason, so if you don't like, don't bother :) I would, however, love you forever if you comment.

Chapter 1

It was two nights after the full moon when the two wizards met at the Shrieking Shack. They shook hands in silence, and slid through a hidden entrance, using wands both to unlock the door and then to reinforce the silencing and locking spells once inside, making it next to impossible for anyone to find them.

The younger man looked exhausted—he had a fresh scar running from just underneath his right ear, going down to where it disappeared in the neck of his robes. He moved slowly, his ribs aching, and his knees cracked loudly when he settled on a rickety chair.

He spoke quietly when he outlined his plan for infiltrating Voldemort's army, noting the best ways to achieve certain goals, hesitating before voicing concerns and dangers of his idea, imploring the older wizard to agree with the necessity of what he suggested.

The older wizard regarded the werewolf with careful eyes. He adjusted his half-moon spectacles, and drew a heavy breath.

"Remus, what you're proposing is incredibly dangerous. Infiltrating their operation will be next to impossible, and you know the Death Eaters won't hesitate to kill you if they find you out. I want you to be fully aware of what you are asking to do."

Remus Lupin was finding it hard to collect his thoughts. He was still surprised with himself—surprised that he had even mentioned the idea of going undercover into Voldemort's operation to his ex-Professor, now leader. He ran a weary hand though his sandy brown hair and tried for a moment to find the correct words. Finally, he blurted them out, all while shaking his head furiously.

"I know. But we have to do something! They always seem to know what we're planning; they're one step ahead, without fail! If I do this, I could… I don't know, sabotage them from the inside. Maybe find the traitor. Definitely find the traitor," he amended. He dropped his eyes and played nervously with the hem of his worn robes. "Besides, they'll believe that I've turned. It wouldn't make sense or be believable for it to be anyone else. I am a Dark Creature, after all." He spit out these last words, dropping his hands from his clothes and meeting Dumbledore's eyes once again.

There was a brief moment of silence as the older man pointedly ignored the self-deprecating remark. His eyes clouded, and he appeared lost in his thoughts. Finally, he shook himself slightly, meeting the werewolf's eyes once more.

"Have you spoken to anyone else in the Order about this?" Dumbledore queried softly, but both men knew who he was really talking about.

"No. It would be more believable if I just… disappear." Remus drew a hand across his face slowly. "Sirius wouldn't want me to go… he wouldn't understand. It has to look real. And… he's not a very good actor. If he was running around, same as always, they'd know something was up."

There was a slight quiver in his voice as he uttered these words, but the older wizard tactfully ignored the tremble.

"We also do not know the identity of the real traitor. The fewer people who know your true intentions, the better. It is a good idea, Remus. We could use another set of eyes in the Death Eater's camp."

"Another?"

Dumbledore hesitated.

"Yes…" he drew the word out slowly, deciding quickly that both moles should know of the other's presence. "It would be best if you were able to work together." He paused again. "She's a vampire, actually. She was responsible for alerting us when Frank and Alice were compromised, she saved Moody when he was ambushed by the Carrows, and she's been feeding us all the small bits of information she's been able to uncover.

"She's proven invaluable, but her direct contact is necessarily minimal. Obviously, it is impossible for her to engage in daytime activities, and because of her nature, the rest of the Death Eaters dislike and shun her for the most part."

"Do I know this woman?" Remus asked, suddenly relieved that since this really appeared to be happening, he would be going into it knowing there was a friendly face amongst all the evil ones.

"I doubt it very much. She was a year behind me when I was in school. Her name is Sariah Bane."

Remus thought that despite Dumbledore's misgivings, he recognized the name. A hazy image of a pale-skinned woman, eyes hidden by sunglasses, floated through his mind. That's right—they had been in the waiting room together when the Ministry had cracked down on the registry of Dark Creatures. Lost in his thoughts (she was a vampire? I thought she was another werewolf) he barely realized that Dumbledore was continuing—

"…She was converted when she was twenty-three, and had been working as an archivist and researcher for me. She often handled the paperwork aspects of early Order-related things. We felt, at the time, that her conversion was a direct attack at me, but nothing came of it, so we were unsure. Fortunately, she retained much of her original personality after her conversion, and when Voldemort began to rise in power, she faked disillusionment and went undercover to spy on the Death Eaters. She has been there for four years."

There was a brief silence, while Remus contemplated four years, alone, pretending to be… something so horrible… He shook his head and again fixed his gaze on the older wizard, intent on discussing the particulars of this plan.

"So how do I go about doing this? A big public fight and storm out? Pass on some seemingly juicy, but really useless, information?"

"Well, fortunately for us, we've had you mostly in the background—you don't engage in many direct confrontations with the Death Eaters. They probably are unaware of the extent of your involvement, so it should be relatively easy for you to supply some small bits of information. Nothing too specific, but seemingly damaging. Perhaps a list of already-known Order members, along with one or two unknowns, maybe a meeting location we've since abandoned…"

Dumbledore continued, but Remus again only half-listened. He ran his hands through his already greying hair and thought instead about what he had suggested, what he was going to do. Sirius, James, Peter, Lily… not to mention everyone else in the Order… they would all think he was a traitor. But this was important. Someone was feeding information to Voldemort's camp, and it needed to stop. This was the only way he could think of to help.

After talking with Dumbledore for another half an hour, fleshing out plans, discussing what information he should provide to the other side, and being told the password and a description of the woman he would be working with, Remus slowly gathered his things to go. A gentle hand on his arm stopped him.

"Take one more night with your friends. Leave in the morning. Don't let them know what is going on… but say goodbye. You may not see them again."

Remus nodded his assent, and turned on his heel, Disapparating where he stood.

OoOoOoO

That night found five friends gathered around a table at the Hog's Head. They were laughing and reminiscing about times at Hogwarts, and the butterbeer and firewhiskey were flowing freely.

"…and then he sprouted purple feathers!" James gasped out between guffaws, joined uproariously by Peter, Sirius, and Remus. Lily giggled more reservedly, but her eyes were still gleaming in mirth.

"Served the tosser right," added Sirius, "after that potion that he mixed to make us all grow spines instead of hair. That was one painful week." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Remus, who remembered vividly how quickly a late-night attempt at romance had been quelled when his lover's downstairs hair had ripped a hole in his hand. That had been awkward to explain to Madame Pomfrey the next morning.

In an attempt to steer the topic to a more public-appropriate one, James raised his glass for a toast.

"To good times at Hogwarts, good friends, and an end to this bloody war!"

Glasses were clinked, shouts of agreement were called, and beverages were downed.

Inside, Remus ached.

OoOoOoO

An hour or so later, the friends were calling it a night. After James and Lily had hugged everyone tight and set off home, and Peter had smiled widely at the group and then went his own way, Sirius and Remus were left alone in the booth.

"Let's go home, love." Sirius leaned over to Remus, drawing his hand to his lips. One gentle kiss and needful look later, the two men were rushing to grab cloaks and concentrating on not splinching themselves in a hurry to leave.

When they reappeared in their living room, Remus' first action was to draw Sirius into a long, lingering kiss. The other man responded in kind, and robes, vests, trousers, and pants were quickly shed on their way to the bedroom.

"Is there are reason for this extraordinary display of eroticism?" Sirius whispered into his lover's neck, once they had landed on the bed. "Did I do something good?"

"You're always good," laughed Remus. "I just want you tonight. Just… celebrate us… when we can, you know?"

Sirius caught Remus' chin, a small worried expression flitting across his face.

"Is there something wrong? You've been quieter than usual all night."

"Nothing's wrong," Remus lied smoothly, moving Sirius' hand and pressing his face forward for a kiss. Soon they were caught up in the moment, and any trepidations left Sirius' mind.

Remus wound up underneath an exuberant Sirius, kissing, rubbing, feeling. Trying to put out of his mind that this was his last night with his partner, Remus threw himself fully into rememorizing every aspect of the dark-haired man. His fingers traced Sirius' muscles, outlined so clearly on his chest and stomach, his tongue gently caressed the sensitive spots that only he knew, and he took in every moan, tremble, and jerk of Sirius' body.

Remus felt himself take a hitching breath, and felt tears swell in his eyes. He loved this man so much—leaving him was going to be the hardest part of this mission. But the less Sirius knew, the less he could reveal if… something happened. But Remus couldn't think about that, not now…

Blinking back tears (which hopefully had gone unnoticed) he whispered softly in his lover's ear, and the other man responded by reaching to their bedside stand, grasping at the lube they kept stashed there. Remus moaned as he felt Sirius' long fingers preparing him, and his golden amber eyes flew open to meet stormy grey ones when those fingers brushed repeatedly at that sensitive spot, deep inside.

Gasping through the pleasure coursing through him, he cupped Sirius' face to his own, kissing the other man longingly. Sirius returned the kiss, and removed his fingers, replacing them with something that filled Remus so much more. They joined, moving as one, heads falling back in pleasure, breaths short and needful.

Afterward, they lay together, their limbs intertwined, their heartbeats slowing. Kissing his partner softly, Remus looked deeply into grey eyes, struggling with what to say—he couldn't give anything away, but he couldn't just leave without saying goodbye…

"I love you. So much," he finally forced out.

A smile played at Sirius' gorgeous lips.

"I know. I'm magnificent."

Remus smiled, closing his eyes. There was a pause, and then he felt the purr of Sirius' voice on his neck.

"I love you too. You and me, forever. I'm lost without you, Remus."

Remus felt something break inside him at this confession, and he struggled not to gasp. How could he leave this man? How could he make him hate him?

Unable to speak, Remus crushed his mouth against Sirius', and if he was finally unable to hold back the tears, he prayed Sirius would think them tears of happiness, rather than despair.

OoOoOoO

Remus rose early and gathered a small bag of things—clothes, his toothbrush, a picture of Sirius. He looked down at his still-sleeping lover and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"I'm so sorry, Sirius."

He left the flat, refusing to look back.