Remus opened his eyes, instantly awake. The wolf within him was howling, protesting his laziness. He turned his head to read the clock. It was 9:02. He rolled out of bed, shaking off as a dog might, and headed to the shower, where he noted appreciatively that Molly had kindly put out unscented soap and shampoo. Once finished washing, he pulled on his most acceptable-looking robes, wincing at the frayed hem and cuffs, knowing that Molly would say something about them. Remus shrugged—there was nothing else for it—and paced silently down the stairs to the kitchen.
Quiet though he was, Molly still heard him. She bustled into the room and pointed commandingly at a chair, cheerfully greeting him, "Good morning, Remus. Did you sleep well?"
Remus sighed, realizing that argument was useless, and sat. "I slept as well as I could. You must have some wolf in you, to hear me come downstairs."
Molly glanced at him rather sharply, then saw his teasing smile. She grinned back. "I daresay I have more fox in me than wolf," she quipped, gesturing vaguely at her fiery hair. "I assure you, it comes more of having a pair of mischievous twins than any sort of bestial instinct." She set a glass of orange juice and a plate full of bacon and pancakes on the table in front of him. "So tell me, Remus—what's going on?"
Remus unconsciously went straight for the bacon. As he ate, he recounted everything that had happened over the past few days. When he reached the point in his story about being thrown out of his apartment, Molly sniffed distastefully. "Muggles!" she said. "I don't have anything against them, mind, but I just cannot for the life of me understand them. Well, don't worry, Remus, you're welcome to stay here as long as you need."
Remus simply nodded and continued. When he had finished his tale, he said, "I think I should leave this afternoon."
Molly appeared taken aback. "But—Remus…what about your transformation tonight? Certainly you shouldn't have to wander the streets in that state. Especially considering your current predicament, missing an entire dose…"
Remus rubbed his eyes tiredly. The wolf within him prowled his mind restlessly, and he was filled with a sudden longing to transform under starlight, to be able to run where he wished. Another night in a cage will destroy you, part of him growled. No! his rational side insisted. I won't endanger innocent lives if I have any say in it. He shook his head to clear it, and told Molly, "I can find somewhere—an abandoned warehouse or something. I'll be okay, Molly," he said. He could smell her concern. "Don't worry about me."
She swallowed. "I know you can take care of yourself, but it's just been getting so much more dangerous lately—Death Eaters are getting bolder, You-Know-Who is on the prowl…"
Remus' mouth twitched into a crooked smile. "But you forget, I have Voldemort's…blessing. I'm his, as far as he knows."
Molly winced at the sound of Voldemort's name. "But that just puts you in more danger, simply because you're closer to him! He's paranoid, you know that, he'll be watching you, and what if he finds out that you're not on his side? Please, Remus, stay here until you've recovered from your transformation. What if you're attacked while you're still weak?"
He shook his head firmly. "I refuse to put you at risk. Lycanthropy is a painful affliction, and I don't want to be responsible if you contract it. I need a place away from humans." He stood. "I think I will leave now, so I'll have plenty of time to search for a suitable place. Thank you for all your kindness, Molly."
Molly opened her mouth argumentatively. He braced himself, and was surprised when her expression softened, and she simply replied, "You're more than welcome. My shift here ends in a few days, but I can still say with confidence that Grimmauld Place will always be a shelter should you need it. Good luck."
Remus smiled and went upstairs to gather his things. In his room, he came across the nearly empty bottle of potion from the night before. He hesitated, and then drank the third that was left, wondering if it would have any effect at all. Quickly, he changed into Muggle garb, shrank his suitcases as usual, and tucked them away into his pockets. Then he strode down the steps, across the entrance hall, and out the door before Molly could come out and say goodbye.
He had barely gone five paces when a heady, familiar scent suddenly reached his nose, carried to him on the breeze. His grey eyes widened slightly, though he was careful not to falter. Voldemort's messenger. Casually, he glanced around, allowing his gaze to skim across the many faces on the street. On the opposite side, he caught a flicker of blond. He reached the end of the block and crossed the street, where he immediately incorporated himself into the crowd. He looked down the street for the glimmer of blond hair, and saw, to his satisfaction, that the messenger—the spy—had lost sight of his quarry.
Remus grinned wolfishly, carefully allowing the crowd to carry him down the street in its flow. As he came closer, he could both see and smell the agent's anxiety, which was growing slowly into a panic. The man was subtly flicking his head back and forth, skimming the groups of people as nonchalantly as Remus had only seconds ago.
Remus unobtrusively stepped out of the stream of people into a small overhang that led to the entrance of a tiny store. The spy was roughly five feet ahead and to the right of Remus, standing near the curb and pretending to smoke. The stench of the cigarette was pungently unwelcome to his nose, especially when mixed with the other man's scent. He slipped from his temporary hiding spot and seized the Death Eater's arm, forcibly steering the other man away. His already predatory smile grew more so as the spy visibly jumped, fright and surprise flooding his scent.
The agent recognized Remus in a second, and tried to pull out of his grasp, but Remus was stronger by far. The Death Eater, realizing that he had underestimated his quarry, allowed himself to be led away.
"Hello, comrade," the blond said lightly, though his scent, thick with anxiety, which smelled faintly of citrus and bitter tea leaves, belied his casual tone.
"Quiet," Remus growled. His captive fell silent immediately.
Remus guided him down several small alleyways and side streets, purposely trying to confuse the Death Eater as well as lose any others that might be tailing them. When he had deemed it safe and the blond thoroughly bewildered, he halted, throwing his captive into a brick wall.
The blond opened his mouth to say something, but Remus cut him off. "What do you want? Why are you following me?"
"I'm supposed to give you a message," the courier replied, rubbing the arm that Remus had been holding. He blinked. Liar's sign, Remus thought grimly, smelling the falsehood—it was a raw, penetrating stench, like smoke and blood.
"Don't lie to me!" he barked, shoving the blond back against the wall, using his forearm to apply pressure to his captive's airway. The agent scrabbled against him desperately, trying to free himself, but stopped when he realized that he was making things worse. Remus narrowed his eyes, staring at his prisoner. "Spy," he hissed.
The Death Eater swallowed nervously. "No, I was sent to tell you—" He choked as Remus put more pressure on his throat, disabling speech.
"Never," he growled, so quietly as to be nearly inaudible, "let me catch you following me again. I know the Dark Lord is just trying to secure his own safety, and I don't blame him for that. But, I like to feel secure myself, and that won't happen if I have spies tailing me." He laughed, knowing that the Death Eater thought he was insane—Remus could see it in his eyes and face—and went on, "You can tell the Dark Lord about our meeting, and if he has a problem with me, I'll be glad to speak with him." Remus released his prisoner. The wolf within was baying wildly, and for a moment he lost control, mind blinking out for a fraction of a second.
When Remus came back to himself, his first thought was, Oh, no. What did I do? He lost hold of the wolf every once in a while, and whenever it happened he also lost conscious thought and memory. He looked around wildly and saw Voldemort's spy lying crumpled on the ground. As he watched, the blond man groaned and looked up at him, waves of fear rolling from his frame, the scent clogging Remus' head and agitating the wolf even more. The left side of his face was red and already beginning to show bruising, and Remus knew immediately that he must have struck him.
He fought to keep the sorrow and compassion from his face as he watched the man on the ground. The spy blinked several times, scrambled to his feet, and ran. Remus had to consciously keep himself from giving chase, from hunting the Death Eater. Once the man's footsteps had echoed away, Remus sighed and turned the other direction, setting off on his second search in the past two days.