Age of Waiting

He could smell it. Thick and hot against his nostrils, the terrifying scent of anger and lust pressed against his mind. He half-sobbed with longing for Sirius to stay, but swallowed it out of relief that his friend was able to escape.

He was lifted and carried through the manor to the floo and he was back in the suffocating darkness of "home."

Greyback deposited him onto the floor.

"Get up, cub."

Remus curled into himself. He had forgotten just what Greyback's sadism smelled like. It smelled like sex. Like pain. Like disease that would creep under his skin and consume him whole until he was nothing but a shriveled remnant of Remus.

At least, what was left of Remus.

"I couldn't be less in the mood for your defiance tonight. Get up!"

Remus whimpered, but made no move.

They know now.

You aren't alone.

What if Greyback finds out?

"Imperio. Get up!"

It was suddenly wonderful and light all around him. Remus distantly felt his legs stiffen beneath him and he was suddenly standing. Then the curse was lifted and the familiar heaviness and fear settled in around him.

His legs trembled and Greyback caught him against his chest.

"I can smell your fear, cub. Is it because you can smell my anger?"

Remus shook his head, inhaling fiercely as he did. He thrusted his arms forward to dislodge himself from Greyback, but the larger werewolf held firm. "You've been angry before."

"Then why the fear, cub?"

Remus looked away and braced himself against the anticipated crush of knuckles against his jaw.

"I don't have time to punish you for your disobedience." Fenrir dropped him to the floor and started towards the door. He was trembling from anger. "But I'm sure your packmates won't mind filling in for me."

Remus got up shakily. His hands were slicked with sweat and dirt. "You're a bastard."

Greyback shot him an indifferent shrug, "Don't kill him, pups," and the door clicked closed.

Remus closed his eyes and braced himself. The pack was roughly around twenty strong and at least eighteen of them hated his bones. Frothy jealousy and anger stirred around him and hell if he wasn't going to get a proper beating for Greyback's favoritism. The other werewolves hadn't gotten the chance to tear at him for weeks.

A pair of arms wrapped around his neck and dragged him to the floor. "Been a while, Lupin."

Remus struggled for a moment, but ultimately allowed four more werewolves to heap atop them. It was a mess of teeth and fingernails before Remus managed to scramble away.

"Wotcher, Montgomery. Salsburg. Didn't know you could use human words."

Montgomery was the largest of the pack. Tall, black and even more muscled than Fenrir himself. Salsburg was his smaller, more political counterpart. Together they formed the underlying alliance within the pack. When Fenrir was gone, they were alpha.

Montgomery growled and, though it was a purely human sound, it had the same effect as if it were from a wolf. "Yer gonna regret that." He lunged for Remus, but the latter was faster. Remus dodged him, but didn't manage to catch himself before barreling into another werewolf.

"Oi, Lupin. Good to see ya."

"'lo Carol."

"Come o' it, boyos. He's no good ta any of us dead."

"He's no good alive neither."

Carol glared. "He pays fo' e'eryfing you lot eat. If you didn't catch it, his money bought it. Come off o' it."

Montgomery and Salsburg were alpha and beta, providing that Carol allowed them to be.

"Ta, Carol. You're a lifesaver."

"S'nothing, Lupin. Ya do know that eventually your mouf is gonna do you in?"

Remus nodded. "You have anything extra for me to wear? It appears that mine have been misplaced."

Carol shrugged. "Not really, boyo. But I fink tha' Kingston migh' have somefing fo' ya." She walked over to Kingston's patch of blankets and stolen items and rifled through them until she found an oversized collared oxford.

"God bless you, Carol." Remus buttoned quickly. The shirt barely reached mid-thigh but he preferred being scantily clad to not clad at all. "How've things been down here?"

Carol shrugged. "S'not too bad, really. Though Greyback brought in a new one…" She jerked her shoulder to a boy crouched under the window. He must have been a very recent arrival as he didn't have a blanket or any possessions. Just the clothes on his back. "Dunno his name. Isn't takin' too well to nuffin'. The only one 'appy tha' he's here is Jerry because that means he don't hafta sleep under the window no more."

Remus bit his lip. "Merlin, he can't even be ten years old."

"Greyback's been getting' 'em younger recently. Fink he's tryin' to build a generation or somefin'."

"Probably…will you look after him?"

Carol shook her head. "I can't. Tried. He's stubborn. Much like someone else I know…"

Remus hit her on the shoulder playfully. "You remind me of a friend I had—have—on the outside."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Same disposition. Same fiery red hair…better table manners though."

She rubbed his head with the heel of her palm and playfully bit at his shoulder. "Yer a wanker, Lupin."

Remus grinned. "I know it…" His eyes slid back to the solitary boy.

Carol backhanded him over the head.

"Fuck! What was that for?"

"Don't even fink abou' it, Lupin."

"I wasn't thinking about any—"

"Ya can't do it. Greyback will kill you."

"For just talking to him?"

"Yes. Kill ya, Lupin. An' I'm not cleanin' up the guts."

"Merlin, Carol. I'm simply going to talk to the boy…"

"Yer not gonna get anyfing outta him."

"Watch me."

"Arrogant berk."

Dumbledore remained impassive as James recounted the night's events. Next to him, Elphias Doge ran fragile fingers over his aging face. Minerva McGonagall sat stoically, but under the table to she was nervously transforming a pincushion to a teacup and back again.

Sirius had wanted to reiterate the night, but his information was garbled. By the time he reached his second sentence, he had run out of any viable updates.

"Peter overheard a conversation concerning the three of us. According to Peter, they want to trust our loyalty. I'm concerned that this could jeopardize our infiltration. I suggest we back out soon."

"Alright. Now, would you like to try and explain Mr Black's…survey of events?"

"We—found Remus Lupin."

McGonagall's teacup pincushion exploded in a miniature puff of smoke. "Is that what Black was trying to say? Is he alive?"

"Yes."

Her eyes went wide with relief. One of her favored pupils—alive.

Dumbledore's expression, however, remained quietly calculating. "I see. Go on, dear boy."

James flushed and rubbed the back of his neck. "He's under the possession of Fenrir Greyback at the moment, sir."

Dumbledore nodded. "I assume Fenrir Greyback has established a pack?"

"That I'm not sure of, sir. Remus didn't specify in his—erm—meeting with Sirius."

"Meeting?"

"He's been trafficked, sir."

Dumbledore nodded again and turned to a splotchy Sirius Black who was shaking violently. "If you wouldn't mind, Mr Black, I am in need of a cup of tea. I'm sure Alastor wouldn't mind if you rummage through his kitchen for some leaves?"

Sirius jerked his head in what could be interpreted as a nod and disappeared into the kitchen.

"Are we aware of his current involvement?"

"Not at all, sir. I…well I don't know how this sort of thing…works, sir."

Dumbledore sighed. "Alastor, I believe you know more about the inner workings of this practise. Would you kindly…?"

Moody grunted and stood up. "It's an honor thing for them. The more of these whores that they've got, the more status. The younger, the prettier the better. Sounds just like something that'd get the bastard Greyback's rocks off." He circled around to his dusty bookshelf and pulled out a book which appeared to be written in Russian. "It's not something that all Death Eaters do, mind you, but it's getting awfully popular."

He opened the book and rifled through until he found the desired page and flung it on the table.

"That there is a progression of status. Certain levels are reached and then the whore's no longer valuable. Usually they're disposed of, but in Lupin's case I'm guessin' Greyback'll want to keep him around as a pack member." Moody glanced at the map again and sneered. "Filthy practise, though. Lupin'll go through hell and back if we ever get him out of there."

Lily—who had remained quiet and thoughtful through the majority of the meeting—reached out and slid the book within her view. "My Russian's bad, but I don't see any difference between…this…and common prostitution."

"They dance, Evans. And wear woman's clothing. Other than that it's sex trafficking."

Lily nodded and slid the book away. "So what do we do now?"

Sirius returned to the table without Dumbledore's tea. His expression and ashen face suggested that he had heard everything.

"Just how far in the system was he? I'm guessing he was auctioned off with Black as the winner if he was allowed to talk to somebody."

Sirius nodded.

"He valuable?"

Sirius glared at Moody, but bit his tongue. "Hundred galleons. Lestrange put in fifty."

"Fuck, then." Moody rubbed his glass eye. "At this point I'd say we can't do anything until he's moved out of the system. You lot are the only ones who know he's there. If he mysteriously disappears they'll trace it back to you and we'll lose our informants."

"So you suggest we wait, Alastor?" McGonagall's voice was a pitch too high.

"We wait."

Author's Note: Much like you will for the next chapter. Structural support of suspense--better known as cliff-hangers. Gotta love them.

So it's around six o'clock AM here and I'm bloody tired. My shift starts in four hours. I'm a right idiot some times.

Thanks for the reviews, by the way. It's unbelievable how much support I can garner from complete strangers.