Alternity Interlude: Playing the Game
by Slytherin Dragon
*****Set up the game board
From the outside, it looked bizarrely like a child's toy, a faceted silvery dome resting on an enchanted cloud. Made entirely of gleaming silvery metal and highly polished one way glass, the construct held itself far above the blackened city of London, high enough that only the birds and occasional broomstick penetrated above the dark clouds covering the city to see it.
Far more saw the inside of the dome, which was ornately and luxuriously furnished, carpeted, and decorated to provide maximum comfort and aesthetic pleasure. The walls were windows, as was the ceiling; all surfaces except the floor looked out over an expanse of cloud cover as far as the eye could see. At sunrise and sunset, the view of the radiantly colored clouds was truly spectacular. In the middle of the transparent ceiling was a massive crystal chandelier, which, when lit at night, seemed to be the center of the night sky, with all the stars and constellations revolving around it.
This was Heaven, London's most elite and popular nightclub. The only price of entry was that one arrived there, and there were only three ways to do so. The first was simply to Apparate there, and that was the most commonly used option. The next was to fly a broomstick up, and this option was only seldom used both because of the relative rarity of broomsticks under the Dark Lord Voldemort's rule, but also because flying that high tended to give the fliers nosebleeds. The third way was a secret way, known only to those coming and going from Heaven for purposes other than entertainment.
Heaven didn't end at the cloud it rested on; underneath the main club was a veritable warren of apartments, tiny shops, even a small school where Heaven's employees (primarily Muggles and half-bloods) lived when they weren't working. The third way in was for them; a permanent gateway from these lower levels to a tiny, rundown building in the slums of London.
This particular day, the view from Heaven's walls was dreary at best: cold, gray, and windy. Looking out one section of the windowed wall, the man responsible for Heaven's existence wondered vaguely if it was raining on the city below. A footstep sounded behind him, and he turned his head slightly to get a look at the person. "What do you think, my dear?" Gilderoy Lockhart asked lightly. "Shall we expect a larger crowd than usual due to this weather?"
Penelope Clearwater, Heaven's majordomo, shook her head with a faint smile. Lockhart was the owner of the club, but she was its primary business mind. Lockhart attracted people and kept them coming, she made sure there was a place for them to come to every single time. "Normal crowd, Gilderoy. Weather doesn't matter to most of those poor people on the ground. They need whatever entertainment we can provide."
Lockhart laughed and looked around the club at the smoothly working group of people. His employees, getting ready to open Heaven's gates, as it were. All were dressed in plain white robes and talked amiably amongst themselves. Many of them were Muggles or half-bloods whose lives would have been only terror and pain down on the surface. "So they do," Lockhart agreed. "So they do. Have our contacts reported anything new?"
Penelope shrugged. "Harry Potter and Lucius Malfoy's son Draco have been slapped on their collective wrist for that outburst with Macnair. As far as we can tell, they're doing a turn as prison guards at some internment camp or another."
Lockhart wrinkled his nose. "How charming."
"Isn't it. The resistance group to the north is still in operation-"
"My my my. That must be some sort of record. Why hasn't his Lordship done something about them yet?"
"They're too small. He's waiting until they're larger." Penelope shrugged and began serenely laying out silverware. "They'll make a better example that way. And in local news, Julian found a young man wandering the streets. He has brought the boy here, of course, and-"
"Tested?"
"Completely Muggle, Gilderoy. No magic at all. Julian thinks he survived one of his Lordship's cullings. As yet, the young man hasn't spoken, so we haven't been able to locate parents or relatives."
"How very sad. I don't suppose he's displayed any talents, either?"
Penelope smiled. "I saw this question coming. One of the first things he did on arrival was sit at a piano and start to play. He's not that bad, and he's a pretty enough boy to accompany Chrystal onstage."
Lockhart nodded, then looked back out the window at the beginnings of another sunset. "Then that's taken care of." Neither mentioned the fate of their last pianist, who had simply disappeared one night a few months before and never returned. Consensus said that he was in an internment zone or worse for some unknown offense. Their singer had had to make do without accompaniment.
The white-robed workers finished their preparations, and many disappeared to the lower levels to attend to other matters. Those that remained began guiding the appearing guests to tables or serving drinks. A golden-haired youth wearing a white robe a few sizes too big crept nervously up onto the stage, clutching sheet music. He sat at the piano and began to play a simple air. The evening had begun.
*****Enter the players
As usual, Lockhart's brilliantly colored robes stood out among his guests' somber blacks and grays as he fluttered around making light conversation. Penelope directed Heaven's servants as necessary, but for the most part engaged herself in a quiet discussion with serious (though perpetually nervous) Percy Weasley.
Suddenly, a loud sound penetrated through the quiet music. All heads turned to look out the window in the direction the noise had come from. A large silvery shape, flying too quickly to be noticed as anything more than a blur, pierced the clouds. Then another silvery shape flew by. And another. Muggle "airplanes"... or missiles.
Whispers buzzed around the room. "...another air strike... what're the Muggles hitting this time... the next one will hit us, I know it... well, might as well party at ground zero...."
Lockhart walked nonchalantly up to the stage and silenced the blond pianist with a light hand on the shoulder. He had to act quickly before the frightened whispers became full-blown panic. He lifted his glass of white wine and smiled toothily around the room. "A toast!" he called, gesturing at the pierced clouds and silvery shapes with his free hand. "To the mechanical arm of the Muggle resistance and the shortness of its reach!" Charm was key, charm and acting unsurprised; let his patrons make their own decisions. He drained his glass in one gulp and set it on the piano, smiling around beatifically.
The whispers changed tone drastically and immediately. "...must be hiding this place from them somehow... a force field... *I* heard he cut a deal with them... how's that possible...?"
Lockhart laughed. "What does it matter, so long as the friends of Gilderoy Lockhart enjoy their sanctuary?" he asked. "Drink up! Tonight, you are in Heaven! Dance in the clouds...." He waved someone onto the stage, a beautiful girl with black hair and intensely violet eyes wearing a close-fitting green dress. Lockhart helped her up in a show of gallantry. "Dance to the songs of Chrystal!" He hopped off the stage to polite applause.
The girl Chrystal smiled and curtsied, gesturing at the youth at the piano to begin playing, then said in her throaty alto, "Thank you... thank you. My first number's an old one you've all heard before..."
Lockhart listened to her begin her song from beside the stage. Chrystal had been a rare find. Some years before, Lockhart had chanced to be visiting Lucius Malfoy's estate and had come across the lovely young Muggle, her beauty and talents completely wasted in menial work. He'd made a deal with Malfoy to secure her, and she had become his most popular stage act in short order. Lockhart still considered it one of the best deals he'd ever made, although rumor said Malfoy wasn't as pleased about it.
He felt rather than saw Penelope come up beside him. "She's a lovely creature, isn't she, my dear?" he asked proudly.
"In a Muggle sort of way," she responded, barely glancing at the stage. Her hands smoothed and resmoothed the front of her maroon robes nervously. "You... have a visitor, Gilderoy. It's... it's Lupin." Her voice dropped to a nervous whisper.
"At the back table?" he asked calmly, still not looking away from the stage.
"Yes." At his lack of reaction, Penelope's voice regained some of its customary briskness. "Be careful, Gilderoy. After... after our last pianist... Heaven can't afford scandal."
"I know, my dear, I know. And of course I shall be as careful and discreet as I can. This is me, after all. The absolute soul of discretion." He flashed a grin at her. "Now, my dear, why don't you go back to your young man?"
She sighed, but turned and went back to her conversation. Lockhart made his way through the mass of tables to one half shadowed and came face-to-face with a man he hadn't seen in years. "Remus, Remus, Remus," he said, pasting a falsely bright smile on his face. "What brings you to my little establishment this fine evening? It's so rare I get to converse with old colleagues, you know." He took a seat across from the worn-looking man. "Tell me, how *are* you?"
Lupin smiled grimly, ignoring the chatter. "It's interesting," he said coolly, "to find someone who 'dedicated his life to the eradication of Dark forces' running an elitist nightclub in the middle of London and currying favor with Dark wizards."
Lockhart beamed impartially. "What a thing to say! I know that if you just gave Heaven a chance, you'd absolutely adore it. But enough of this pointless arguing, where are my manners? Let me get you a drink-" He waved over one of his workers, who brought a glass of white wine, then looked inquiringly at Lupin.
The worker was probably about ten years old, Lupin thought with a slightly sick feeling. Old enough to be serving hard labor in some of the camps, but he doubted that working in nightclub with more than a slight bent towards hedonism was any better. He waved dismissively, and the boy bowed and glided off to serve another table. "I'm here on business, Gilderoy," he said flatly.
Lockhart's smile looked rather sick. "Business?" he asked in as innocent a tone as he could manage. "What kind? Do tell me you're not still running around doing that *terribly* dangerous monster hunting!"
Lupin lowered his voice, glanced around a little before answering. "Resistance business, Gilderoy. You could be a big help to us, you know... you have contacts, resources...."
Lockhart waved a hand in an elaborate gesture. "Of course, of course. I quite understand that your little rebellion would benefit greatly from someone of my expertise and experience. Under normal circumstances, I'd join up in a heartbeat, you know I would. However...." He affected a sad expression. "There are my people here to think of. And Heaven itself needs my guiding hand on the tiller, so to speak. Completely fall apart without me, don't you know-"
"There's Heaven to run to and hide in, you mean!" Lupin flared. "Do you really think that just because you can't see what's happening on the ground, what Voldemort's doing, it has nothing to do with you, Gilderoy?"
Lockhart flinched at the Name, then said, "It *doesn't* have anything to do with me. I'm a legitimate businessman, Remus. I can't be a front man for terrorists, no matter what the cause."
Lupin leaned forward, whispering urgently. "You won't be. All we want from you is information. We want you to get friendly with the Dark Lord's inner circle, learn their secrets, their plans, anything they'll tell you. Then, tell us what you learn."
Lockhart shook his head. "No, no, no. That simply won't work, I'm afraid. I do converse with my guests, you know, but it would be exceedingly bad for business were I known to pry-"
Lupin sighed. "I didn't want to put things on these terms, Gilderoy," he said sorrowfully, "but I don't see that I have a choice. The Resistance needs you too much. If you don't choose to join us, we have to consider you an enemy, and Heaven is too high-profile a target to pass up. You exist solely on your grovelling to the Dark Lord and your worth to us. Take away that worth, and...." Lupin trailed off with a descriptive shrug. He hated using those strong-arm tactics on anyone, especially a coward like Lockhart; it seemed more like Sirius's style than his.
Lockhart paled, the toothy smile finally disappearing completely from his handsome face. "I'm not... what you think I am," he said lamely after a moment.
"No one is," Lupin agreed with a wry smile. "That's the way of things. I'll come back tomorrow evening, Gilderoy. Tie up loose ends, and be ready with your final answer then."
Lockhart fixed his toothy smile back on his face. "So that's a no to a drink, then," he said as Lupin Apparated out. Once he was alone at the table, he let himself shiver slightly. That would be a problem... he didn't want to risk the Dark Lord's wrath, people who did that had a tendency to disappear without a trace. And yet the option seemed to be to disappear by the not-so-merciful hand of the Resistance. He laughed, bitterly and a little nervously, and lifted his glass in a mock-toast. "To rocks and extremely hard places!"
"I'll drink to that," said a smooth, cold voice from behind him.
Lockhart whirled to face Lucius Malfoy, and laughed nervously. "My lord... I didn't see you there-"
"I know, Lockhart." Malfoy's voice was calm... too calm. "You weren't meant to. And now I find myself in something of a predicament."
"You... do?" With some difficulty, Lockhart quelled the urge to simply cower and beg for mercy. There was no telling how much or how little Malfoy had heard. I've done this before, he told himself bracingly, this is no different than claiming to have vanquished those monsters, no different at all. His life and those of his workers depended on how well he could play the game and win.
"Yes. I should, by the Master's law, close you down and perhaps execute everyone present for consorting with known traitors," the pale wizard said in a considering tone, "such as that Remus Lupin who just left."
Lockhart smiled sickly. "You heard, didn't you?" he asked, taking care to put enough pleading in his tone for it to be submissive but not whining. Malfoy hated whining.... "I refused to spy for him-"
"You did, Lockhart, and that's why you're still breathing." He slid into the seat Lupin had just vacated across from Lockhart. "However... I see an opportunity here not to be wasted."
"You do, my lord?" Lockhart leaned forward. Be ingenuous, he told himself, be eager to please.
"Yes. When he comes back... tomorrow, as he said... agree to his demands. Agree to give the Resistance information."
"What?" Lockhart almost shrieked, recoiling. "No! I won't-"
Malfoy cut him off with a glare and a sharp gesture. "Your loyalty does you... credit," he hissed grudgingly, "although one could wish you had two brain cells to rub together. You will agree, but you will tell him only what I wish you to tell him."
"But, my lord, the penalty for treason-"
"Does not apply. You will be a double agent, my spy among them. I will turn a blind eye to the Resistance's comings and goings here, as well as making sure others do the same, and in return you will tell me everything you find out about the Resistance."
Everything took on a surreal quality. The exact same offer, from both sides! Protection from agression, in exchange for information! Refuse Malfoy, and he was dead. Agree to Lupin, but have it get out through misinformation or other methods that he was also working for Malfoy, and he was dead. Refuse both, and he was dead. The only chance, the only possible way to keep his skin and his club, was to agree to both and play both ends against the middle as long as he could. Lockhart nodded. "I accept, my lord, and thank you-"
"Spare me. I will expect reports in a timely fashion, Lockhart. Give me outdated information and I will have your hide nailed to the front gate of Azkaban before you can blink." Malfoy Apparated out.
Lockhart, once he was sure Malfoy had really gone, collapsed into his chair and finished his drink. Penelope and Percy, hand in hand, walked over after a moment. Percy, looking more anxious than usual, asked, "Are you all right, sir?"
Lockhart forced a smile onto his face. No one must know of either deal. The more people in on a secret, the harder it was to keep. "Fine, dear boy, absolutely fine. Why do you ask?"
Percy essayed a hesitant smile. He acted more often than not as a sort of personal secretary to Lucius Malfoy and others on Voldemort's governing council, as well as performing as a courier occasionally. He was also the only member of his family not only not considered a traitor, but working for the government. "Lord Lucius can be something of a-"
"Monster," Penelope finished briskly. "We're surprised you've still got your skin on, Gilderoy."
Percy made half-hearted shushing gestures at her. "Penny, please, he's my *boss*..."
"My dear children, there have been times where this skin threatened to crawl right off my body utterly under its own power, and this was not one of those times," Lockhart said breezily. "Why, when I defeated the Wagga Wagga Werewolf, I couldn't look out the window at night for weeks. Lucius Malfoy doesn't possibly compare."
Percy blinked, while Penelope just smiled indulgently. She took firm hold of her companion's elbow and began dragging him off. "Well, we were worried, that's all."
Lockhart waited until they were both once again involved in their discussion, then looked out over the clouds at the starry night sky. "Yes,' he agreed softly. "So was I."
*****Opening moves
The next evening, as promised, Lupin returned. "So what's it to be, Gilderoy?" he asked. "Are you with us or against us?"
"Remus, dear friend, you should have gone into politics. You've left me very little choice, you see." Lockhart shrugged. "I'm with you, of course. But I do ask that my involvement be extremely low-key. I've no wish to be Apparated out in the middle of the night, never to be seen again."
"That happens often?" Lupin sounded curious.
I've got a fish on the line, Lockhart thought gaily. "Oh, yes, all the time." He smiled internally. And now to reel in his catch. "I've been lacking a pianist for the past two months because of those nuisancy secret police. Only yesterday did I get a halfway decent replacement." He nodded at the stage, where Chrystal was singing and the golden-haired youth was playing the piano. "Dear boy doesn't speak, unfortunately. We think his parents either tried to escape whatever situation they were in, or they were part of one of his Lordship's cullings." He laughed faintly. "A few of the other workers have taken to calling him Angel, or some such like that... I suppose they believe that if this is Heaven, it ought to have at least one angel, and who better than one who won't protest the title?" He glanced sidelong at Lupin. "So what do you want to know?"
"These secret police... what do you know about them?"
"Oh, next to nothing. They're secret, you see," Lockhart lied. He had as much information on the secret police as it was possible for someone to have who wasn't the Dark Lord. But if he gave away what he knew too quickly... well, no one trusted free information. It was better to dole it out slowly. "So what kind of organization have I gotten myself into, Remus? I need to know, you see, so I can give you the information that will be the most useful and waste the least time."
Lupin frowned for a moment. "Can I trust you, Gilderoy?"
Lockhart smiled brightly. Gotcha. "If not me, then who, dear friend? I signed on to protect my way of life, don't you know. I'm not about to throw it away. You've got me, Remus, and I can't get away."
After a short silence, the tired-looking wizard nodded sharply. "All right. We're not very organized right now. We used to be, but there's enough infighting..."
He continued for some time, detailing the Resistance's situation. Lockhart smiled and nodded, taking it all in and filing it away under two mental files: 'give to Malfoy' and 'don't even think about it'. When he'd finished, Lupin stood up. "That's all you need to know," he said. "I'm not sure I should even have told you as much as I did."
"Oh, pish. Eventually you'll be happy you did." I know I am, Lockhart added mentally. "And Remus. About the secret police? I'll try and find something to tell you when you visit next."
"Don't focus on it," Lupin warned. "We want everything."
"Of course, of course." Lockhart kept the smile on his face until after Lupin had Apparated out of Heaven. Then, his expression arranged itself into unfamiliar seriousness. His opening moves in the game were done. He'd given Lupin a shred of information the man undoubtedly knew already, and received in exchange a little information to play with and give to Malfoy, who had thoughtfully (not) scheduled his own appointments with Lockhart for the day after whenever a Resistance operative "dropped by". Now the real game began.
*****Play the game
"What do you have?" Malfoy asked icily the next day. "And don't tell me nothing, Lockhart. I expect fast results-"
"You have them, my lord," Lockhart promised. "I have the Resistance's complete trust. They think they're holding Heaven over me like an axe about to drop. I don't have *much*, it's true, but... would their organization and structure be of any interest to you?"
Malfoy leaned forward. "Talk."
Lockhart smiled. Mix one part truth to two parts lie, stir well, and serve. "They're actually quite organized, to hear Lupin tell it, my lord. They scatter themselves in small groups so it doesn't seem as though they're actually one big group and to discourage being targeted for destruction by his Lordship. They've been coordinating their attacks and planning very carefully-"
"I know all that," Malfoy interrupted impatiently. "Something new."
"The group operating ten miles to the north is a key group," Lockhart said, making up something on the spot. Any Resistance cell worth its salt would know how to scatter and reform elsewhere in about nothing flat, so he had no problems sending one to the mill. "I believe that they're planning a mass escape from camp 22." Better and better. Not only was camp 22 where Malfoy's son was at present, it had also actually *had* an escape in the past twenty-four hours. "They've been testing defenses. Lupin said that they were going to do a practice run, effect one escape... my lord? Are you listening?"
Malfoy had stiffened in shock. Now he relaxed and glared frostbite at Lockhart. "Intently," he snapped.
"That's about all, my lord. Rumors, of course, and it's possible he was merely testing me to see if I was a reliable source." A little doubt always added to the believability of any statement, true or false.
"Of course." Malfoy rose. "I will be expecting your next report, Lockhart. Try and have something a little more substantial next time."
"Yes, my lord," Lockhart said meekly to the now-empty space. "I hate it when people do that: Apparate out in the middle of a conversation," he complained to no one in particular.
He walked over to a window and looked out at the bleak grayness, suddenly depressed. This wasn't like his other games... this time if he zigged instead of zagged or said the wrong thing at the wrong time, he and everything he had made would be destroyed. "I don't do well under pressure," he told his reflection. "I crack. You know that...."
The piano music filtered into his ears from the direction of the stage. A bright, cheerful tune, with Chrystal singing her heart out right along with it. People, some little more than children, in white robes, carrying trays or drinks. Patrons in dark colors smiling and laughing, a few dancing. Enjoying themselves. Lockhart felt his dark mood lift as he listened and watched. Heaven was exactly that: a slice of joy (or at least happiness) for people who had nearly forgotten what that was, and he aimed to keep it no matter what. He'd switch sides back and forth, tell truths and lies, to keep his dream alive as long as he could.
Lockhart threw his head back and laughed, his brief (very brief) period of depression gone and done with. This was how the game was supposed to be played! No blood, no violence, plenty of intrigue, the sky's the limit, winner take all.
A light footstep sounded behind him. He turned his head slightly to get a glimpse of the person and beamed. "It's going to be a lovely sunset, Penelope, my dear. Did I ever tell you about the time I trapped a ghoul in a tea-strainer...?"
The sky's the limit, winner take all.
~finis~
by Slytherin Dragon
*****Set up the game board
From the outside, it looked bizarrely like a child's toy, a faceted silvery dome resting on an enchanted cloud. Made entirely of gleaming silvery metal and highly polished one way glass, the construct held itself far above the blackened city of London, high enough that only the birds and occasional broomstick penetrated above the dark clouds covering the city to see it.
Far more saw the inside of the dome, which was ornately and luxuriously furnished, carpeted, and decorated to provide maximum comfort and aesthetic pleasure. The walls were windows, as was the ceiling; all surfaces except the floor looked out over an expanse of cloud cover as far as the eye could see. At sunrise and sunset, the view of the radiantly colored clouds was truly spectacular. In the middle of the transparent ceiling was a massive crystal chandelier, which, when lit at night, seemed to be the center of the night sky, with all the stars and constellations revolving around it.
This was Heaven, London's most elite and popular nightclub. The only price of entry was that one arrived there, and there were only three ways to do so. The first was simply to Apparate there, and that was the most commonly used option. The next was to fly a broomstick up, and this option was only seldom used both because of the relative rarity of broomsticks under the Dark Lord Voldemort's rule, but also because flying that high tended to give the fliers nosebleeds. The third way was a secret way, known only to those coming and going from Heaven for purposes other than entertainment.
Heaven didn't end at the cloud it rested on; underneath the main club was a veritable warren of apartments, tiny shops, even a small school where Heaven's employees (primarily Muggles and half-bloods) lived when they weren't working. The third way in was for them; a permanent gateway from these lower levels to a tiny, rundown building in the slums of London.
This particular day, the view from Heaven's walls was dreary at best: cold, gray, and windy. Looking out one section of the windowed wall, the man responsible for Heaven's existence wondered vaguely if it was raining on the city below. A footstep sounded behind him, and he turned his head slightly to get a look at the person. "What do you think, my dear?" Gilderoy Lockhart asked lightly. "Shall we expect a larger crowd than usual due to this weather?"
Penelope Clearwater, Heaven's majordomo, shook her head with a faint smile. Lockhart was the owner of the club, but she was its primary business mind. Lockhart attracted people and kept them coming, she made sure there was a place for them to come to every single time. "Normal crowd, Gilderoy. Weather doesn't matter to most of those poor people on the ground. They need whatever entertainment we can provide."
Lockhart laughed and looked around the club at the smoothly working group of people. His employees, getting ready to open Heaven's gates, as it were. All were dressed in plain white robes and talked amiably amongst themselves. Many of them were Muggles or half-bloods whose lives would have been only terror and pain down on the surface. "So they do," Lockhart agreed. "So they do. Have our contacts reported anything new?"
Penelope shrugged. "Harry Potter and Lucius Malfoy's son Draco have been slapped on their collective wrist for that outburst with Macnair. As far as we can tell, they're doing a turn as prison guards at some internment camp or another."
Lockhart wrinkled his nose. "How charming."
"Isn't it. The resistance group to the north is still in operation-"
"My my my. That must be some sort of record. Why hasn't his Lordship done something about them yet?"
"They're too small. He's waiting until they're larger." Penelope shrugged and began serenely laying out silverware. "They'll make a better example that way. And in local news, Julian found a young man wandering the streets. He has brought the boy here, of course, and-"
"Tested?"
"Completely Muggle, Gilderoy. No magic at all. Julian thinks he survived one of his Lordship's cullings. As yet, the young man hasn't spoken, so we haven't been able to locate parents or relatives."
"How very sad. I don't suppose he's displayed any talents, either?"
Penelope smiled. "I saw this question coming. One of the first things he did on arrival was sit at a piano and start to play. He's not that bad, and he's a pretty enough boy to accompany Chrystal onstage."
Lockhart nodded, then looked back out the window at the beginnings of another sunset. "Then that's taken care of." Neither mentioned the fate of their last pianist, who had simply disappeared one night a few months before and never returned. Consensus said that he was in an internment zone or worse for some unknown offense. Their singer had had to make do without accompaniment.
The white-robed workers finished their preparations, and many disappeared to the lower levels to attend to other matters. Those that remained began guiding the appearing guests to tables or serving drinks. A golden-haired youth wearing a white robe a few sizes too big crept nervously up onto the stage, clutching sheet music. He sat at the piano and began to play a simple air. The evening had begun.
*****Enter the players
As usual, Lockhart's brilliantly colored robes stood out among his guests' somber blacks and grays as he fluttered around making light conversation. Penelope directed Heaven's servants as necessary, but for the most part engaged herself in a quiet discussion with serious (though perpetually nervous) Percy Weasley.
Suddenly, a loud sound penetrated through the quiet music. All heads turned to look out the window in the direction the noise had come from. A large silvery shape, flying too quickly to be noticed as anything more than a blur, pierced the clouds. Then another silvery shape flew by. And another. Muggle "airplanes"... or missiles.
Whispers buzzed around the room. "...another air strike... what're the Muggles hitting this time... the next one will hit us, I know it... well, might as well party at ground zero...."
Lockhart walked nonchalantly up to the stage and silenced the blond pianist with a light hand on the shoulder. He had to act quickly before the frightened whispers became full-blown panic. He lifted his glass of white wine and smiled toothily around the room. "A toast!" he called, gesturing at the pierced clouds and silvery shapes with his free hand. "To the mechanical arm of the Muggle resistance and the shortness of its reach!" Charm was key, charm and acting unsurprised; let his patrons make their own decisions. He drained his glass in one gulp and set it on the piano, smiling around beatifically.
The whispers changed tone drastically and immediately. "...must be hiding this place from them somehow... a force field... *I* heard he cut a deal with them... how's that possible...?"
Lockhart laughed. "What does it matter, so long as the friends of Gilderoy Lockhart enjoy their sanctuary?" he asked. "Drink up! Tonight, you are in Heaven! Dance in the clouds...." He waved someone onto the stage, a beautiful girl with black hair and intensely violet eyes wearing a close-fitting green dress. Lockhart helped her up in a show of gallantry. "Dance to the songs of Chrystal!" He hopped off the stage to polite applause.
The girl Chrystal smiled and curtsied, gesturing at the youth at the piano to begin playing, then said in her throaty alto, "Thank you... thank you. My first number's an old one you've all heard before..."
Lockhart listened to her begin her song from beside the stage. Chrystal had been a rare find. Some years before, Lockhart had chanced to be visiting Lucius Malfoy's estate and had come across the lovely young Muggle, her beauty and talents completely wasted in menial work. He'd made a deal with Malfoy to secure her, and she had become his most popular stage act in short order. Lockhart still considered it one of the best deals he'd ever made, although rumor said Malfoy wasn't as pleased about it.
He felt rather than saw Penelope come up beside him. "She's a lovely creature, isn't she, my dear?" he asked proudly.
"In a Muggle sort of way," she responded, barely glancing at the stage. Her hands smoothed and resmoothed the front of her maroon robes nervously. "You... have a visitor, Gilderoy. It's... it's Lupin." Her voice dropped to a nervous whisper.
"At the back table?" he asked calmly, still not looking away from the stage.
"Yes." At his lack of reaction, Penelope's voice regained some of its customary briskness. "Be careful, Gilderoy. After... after our last pianist... Heaven can't afford scandal."
"I know, my dear, I know. And of course I shall be as careful and discreet as I can. This is me, after all. The absolute soul of discretion." He flashed a grin at her. "Now, my dear, why don't you go back to your young man?"
She sighed, but turned and went back to her conversation. Lockhart made his way through the mass of tables to one half shadowed and came face-to-face with a man he hadn't seen in years. "Remus, Remus, Remus," he said, pasting a falsely bright smile on his face. "What brings you to my little establishment this fine evening? It's so rare I get to converse with old colleagues, you know." He took a seat across from the worn-looking man. "Tell me, how *are* you?"
Lupin smiled grimly, ignoring the chatter. "It's interesting," he said coolly, "to find someone who 'dedicated his life to the eradication of Dark forces' running an elitist nightclub in the middle of London and currying favor with Dark wizards."
Lockhart beamed impartially. "What a thing to say! I know that if you just gave Heaven a chance, you'd absolutely adore it. But enough of this pointless arguing, where are my manners? Let me get you a drink-" He waved over one of his workers, who brought a glass of white wine, then looked inquiringly at Lupin.
The worker was probably about ten years old, Lupin thought with a slightly sick feeling. Old enough to be serving hard labor in some of the camps, but he doubted that working in nightclub with more than a slight bent towards hedonism was any better. He waved dismissively, and the boy bowed and glided off to serve another table. "I'm here on business, Gilderoy," he said flatly.
Lockhart's smile looked rather sick. "Business?" he asked in as innocent a tone as he could manage. "What kind? Do tell me you're not still running around doing that *terribly* dangerous monster hunting!"
Lupin lowered his voice, glanced around a little before answering. "Resistance business, Gilderoy. You could be a big help to us, you know... you have contacts, resources...."
Lockhart waved a hand in an elaborate gesture. "Of course, of course. I quite understand that your little rebellion would benefit greatly from someone of my expertise and experience. Under normal circumstances, I'd join up in a heartbeat, you know I would. However...." He affected a sad expression. "There are my people here to think of. And Heaven itself needs my guiding hand on the tiller, so to speak. Completely fall apart without me, don't you know-"
"There's Heaven to run to and hide in, you mean!" Lupin flared. "Do you really think that just because you can't see what's happening on the ground, what Voldemort's doing, it has nothing to do with you, Gilderoy?"
Lockhart flinched at the Name, then said, "It *doesn't* have anything to do with me. I'm a legitimate businessman, Remus. I can't be a front man for terrorists, no matter what the cause."
Lupin leaned forward, whispering urgently. "You won't be. All we want from you is information. We want you to get friendly with the Dark Lord's inner circle, learn their secrets, their plans, anything they'll tell you. Then, tell us what you learn."
Lockhart shook his head. "No, no, no. That simply won't work, I'm afraid. I do converse with my guests, you know, but it would be exceedingly bad for business were I known to pry-"
Lupin sighed. "I didn't want to put things on these terms, Gilderoy," he said sorrowfully, "but I don't see that I have a choice. The Resistance needs you too much. If you don't choose to join us, we have to consider you an enemy, and Heaven is too high-profile a target to pass up. You exist solely on your grovelling to the Dark Lord and your worth to us. Take away that worth, and...." Lupin trailed off with a descriptive shrug. He hated using those strong-arm tactics on anyone, especially a coward like Lockhart; it seemed more like Sirius's style than his.
Lockhart paled, the toothy smile finally disappearing completely from his handsome face. "I'm not... what you think I am," he said lamely after a moment.
"No one is," Lupin agreed with a wry smile. "That's the way of things. I'll come back tomorrow evening, Gilderoy. Tie up loose ends, and be ready with your final answer then."
Lockhart fixed his toothy smile back on his face. "So that's a no to a drink, then," he said as Lupin Apparated out. Once he was alone at the table, he let himself shiver slightly. That would be a problem... he didn't want to risk the Dark Lord's wrath, people who did that had a tendency to disappear without a trace. And yet the option seemed to be to disappear by the not-so-merciful hand of the Resistance. He laughed, bitterly and a little nervously, and lifted his glass in a mock-toast. "To rocks and extremely hard places!"
"I'll drink to that," said a smooth, cold voice from behind him.
Lockhart whirled to face Lucius Malfoy, and laughed nervously. "My lord... I didn't see you there-"
"I know, Lockhart." Malfoy's voice was calm... too calm. "You weren't meant to. And now I find myself in something of a predicament."
"You... do?" With some difficulty, Lockhart quelled the urge to simply cower and beg for mercy. There was no telling how much or how little Malfoy had heard. I've done this before, he told himself bracingly, this is no different than claiming to have vanquished those monsters, no different at all. His life and those of his workers depended on how well he could play the game and win.
"Yes. I should, by the Master's law, close you down and perhaps execute everyone present for consorting with known traitors," the pale wizard said in a considering tone, "such as that Remus Lupin who just left."
Lockhart smiled sickly. "You heard, didn't you?" he asked, taking care to put enough pleading in his tone for it to be submissive but not whining. Malfoy hated whining.... "I refused to spy for him-"
"You did, Lockhart, and that's why you're still breathing." He slid into the seat Lupin had just vacated across from Lockhart. "However... I see an opportunity here not to be wasted."
"You do, my lord?" Lockhart leaned forward. Be ingenuous, he told himself, be eager to please.
"Yes. When he comes back... tomorrow, as he said... agree to his demands. Agree to give the Resistance information."
"What?" Lockhart almost shrieked, recoiling. "No! I won't-"
Malfoy cut him off with a glare and a sharp gesture. "Your loyalty does you... credit," he hissed grudgingly, "although one could wish you had two brain cells to rub together. You will agree, but you will tell him only what I wish you to tell him."
"But, my lord, the penalty for treason-"
"Does not apply. You will be a double agent, my spy among them. I will turn a blind eye to the Resistance's comings and goings here, as well as making sure others do the same, and in return you will tell me everything you find out about the Resistance."
Everything took on a surreal quality. The exact same offer, from both sides! Protection from agression, in exchange for information! Refuse Malfoy, and he was dead. Agree to Lupin, but have it get out through misinformation or other methods that he was also working for Malfoy, and he was dead. Refuse both, and he was dead. The only chance, the only possible way to keep his skin and his club, was to agree to both and play both ends against the middle as long as he could. Lockhart nodded. "I accept, my lord, and thank you-"
"Spare me. I will expect reports in a timely fashion, Lockhart. Give me outdated information and I will have your hide nailed to the front gate of Azkaban before you can blink." Malfoy Apparated out.
Lockhart, once he was sure Malfoy had really gone, collapsed into his chair and finished his drink. Penelope and Percy, hand in hand, walked over after a moment. Percy, looking more anxious than usual, asked, "Are you all right, sir?"
Lockhart forced a smile onto his face. No one must know of either deal. The more people in on a secret, the harder it was to keep. "Fine, dear boy, absolutely fine. Why do you ask?"
Percy essayed a hesitant smile. He acted more often than not as a sort of personal secretary to Lucius Malfoy and others on Voldemort's governing council, as well as performing as a courier occasionally. He was also the only member of his family not only not considered a traitor, but working for the government. "Lord Lucius can be something of a-"
"Monster," Penelope finished briskly. "We're surprised you've still got your skin on, Gilderoy."
Percy made half-hearted shushing gestures at her. "Penny, please, he's my *boss*..."
"My dear children, there have been times where this skin threatened to crawl right off my body utterly under its own power, and this was not one of those times," Lockhart said breezily. "Why, when I defeated the Wagga Wagga Werewolf, I couldn't look out the window at night for weeks. Lucius Malfoy doesn't possibly compare."
Percy blinked, while Penelope just smiled indulgently. She took firm hold of her companion's elbow and began dragging him off. "Well, we were worried, that's all."
Lockhart waited until they were both once again involved in their discussion, then looked out over the clouds at the starry night sky. "Yes,' he agreed softly. "So was I."
*****Opening moves
The next evening, as promised, Lupin returned. "So what's it to be, Gilderoy?" he asked. "Are you with us or against us?"
"Remus, dear friend, you should have gone into politics. You've left me very little choice, you see." Lockhart shrugged. "I'm with you, of course. But I do ask that my involvement be extremely low-key. I've no wish to be Apparated out in the middle of the night, never to be seen again."
"That happens often?" Lupin sounded curious.
I've got a fish on the line, Lockhart thought gaily. "Oh, yes, all the time." He smiled internally. And now to reel in his catch. "I've been lacking a pianist for the past two months because of those nuisancy secret police. Only yesterday did I get a halfway decent replacement." He nodded at the stage, where Chrystal was singing and the golden-haired youth was playing the piano. "Dear boy doesn't speak, unfortunately. We think his parents either tried to escape whatever situation they were in, or they were part of one of his Lordship's cullings." He laughed faintly. "A few of the other workers have taken to calling him Angel, or some such like that... I suppose they believe that if this is Heaven, it ought to have at least one angel, and who better than one who won't protest the title?" He glanced sidelong at Lupin. "So what do you want to know?"
"These secret police... what do you know about them?"
"Oh, next to nothing. They're secret, you see," Lockhart lied. He had as much information on the secret police as it was possible for someone to have who wasn't the Dark Lord. But if he gave away what he knew too quickly... well, no one trusted free information. It was better to dole it out slowly. "So what kind of organization have I gotten myself into, Remus? I need to know, you see, so I can give you the information that will be the most useful and waste the least time."
Lupin frowned for a moment. "Can I trust you, Gilderoy?"
Lockhart smiled brightly. Gotcha. "If not me, then who, dear friend? I signed on to protect my way of life, don't you know. I'm not about to throw it away. You've got me, Remus, and I can't get away."
After a short silence, the tired-looking wizard nodded sharply. "All right. We're not very organized right now. We used to be, but there's enough infighting..."
He continued for some time, detailing the Resistance's situation. Lockhart smiled and nodded, taking it all in and filing it away under two mental files: 'give to Malfoy' and 'don't even think about it'. When he'd finished, Lupin stood up. "That's all you need to know," he said. "I'm not sure I should even have told you as much as I did."
"Oh, pish. Eventually you'll be happy you did." I know I am, Lockhart added mentally. "And Remus. About the secret police? I'll try and find something to tell you when you visit next."
"Don't focus on it," Lupin warned. "We want everything."
"Of course, of course." Lockhart kept the smile on his face until after Lupin had Apparated out of Heaven. Then, his expression arranged itself into unfamiliar seriousness. His opening moves in the game were done. He'd given Lupin a shred of information the man undoubtedly knew already, and received in exchange a little information to play with and give to Malfoy, who had thoughtfully (not) scheduled his own appointments with Lockhart for the day after whenever a Resistance operative "dropped by". Now the real game began.
*****Play the game
"What do you have?" Malfoy asked icily the next day. "And don't tell me nothing, Lockhart. I expect fast results-"
"You have them, my lord," Lockhart promised. "I have the Resistance's complete trust. They think they're holding Heaven over me like an axe about to drop. I don't have *much*, it's true, but... would their organization and structure be of any interest to you?"
Malfoy leaned forward. "Talk."
Lockhart smiled. Mix one part truth to two parts lie, stir well, and serve. "They're actually quite organized, to hear Lupin tell it, my lord. They scatter themselves in small groups so it doesn't seem as though they're actually one big group and to discourage being targeted for destruction by his Lordship. They've been coordinating their attacks and planning very carefully-"
"I know all that," Malfoy interrupted impatiently. "Something new."
"The group operating ten miles to the north is a key group," Lockhart said, making up something on the spot. Any Resistance cell worth its salt would know how to scatter and reform elsewhere in about nothing flat, so he had no problems sending one to the mill. "I believe that they're planning a mass escape from camp 22." Better and better. Not only was camp 22 where Malfoy's son was at present, it had also actually *had* an escape in the past twenty-four hours. "They've been testing defenses. Lupin said that they were going to do a practice run, effect one escape... my lord? Are you listening?"
Malfoy had stiffened in shock. Now he relaxed and glared frostbite at Lockhart. "Intently," he snapped.
"That's about all, my lord. Rumors, of course, and it's possible he was merely testing me to see if I was a reliable source." A little doubt always added to the believability of any statement, true or false.
"Of course." Malfoy rose. "I will be expecting your next report, Lockhart. Try and have something a little more substantial next time."
"Yes, my lord," Lockhart said meekly to the now-empty space. "I hate it when people do that: Apparate out in the middle of a conversation," he complained to no one in particular.
He walked over to a window and looked out at the bleak grayness, suddenly depressed. This wasn't like his other games... this time if he zigged instead of zagged or said the wrong thing at the wrong time, he and everything he had made would be destroyed. "I don't do well under pressure," he told his reflection. "I crack. You know that...."
The piano music filtered into his ears from the direction of the stage. A bright, cheerful tune, with Chrystal singing her heart out right along with it. People, some little more than children, in white robes, carrying trays or drinks. Patrons in dark colors smiling and laughing, a few dancing. Enjoying themselves. Lockhart felt his dark mood lift as he listened and watched. Heaven was exactly that: a slice of joy (or at least happiness) for people who had nearly forgotten what that was, and he aimed to keep it no matter what. He'd switch sides back and forth, tell truths and lies, to keep his dream alive as long as he could.
Lockhart threw his head back and laughed, his brief (very brief) period of depression gone and done with. This was how the game was supposed to be played! No blood, no violence, plenty of intrigue, the sky's the limit, winner take all.
A light footstep sounded behind him. He turned his head slightly to get a glimpse of the person and beamed. "It's going to be a lovely sunset, Penelope, my dear. Did I ever tell you about the time I trapped a ghoul in a tea-strainer...?"
The sky's the limit, winner take all.
~finis~