Otherwise known as: How Luna tore apart the fabric of reality so that her friends could get decently laid, and accidentally saved the world in the process.

A/N: Welcome to Chapter Twenty Eight! Lots of swearing, sorry, but Lavender's a real grump. Also, your brief respite from angst is over, because I don't know how not to angst. If anybody has advice on how not to angst, please let me know (I'm serious). It's the full moon! Almost.

Love always,

Eli x

Disclaimer: I do not own the works herein, all characters from the Harry Potter Universe belong to JK Rowling, and all characters, storylines, situations, plots and the like do not belong to me. I make no money from this work.

Warnings: Rated M for situations, swearing, violence... The whole lot, basically.


Iacta Alea Est

Chapter Twenty-Eight


The letter, which had been dropped into his breakfast that morning and now bore traces of melted butter and jam on its pressed ivory envelope, looked deceptively harmless as it sat, starched straight and practically shiny in its perfection, against the rich emerald satin of his bedspread. Unfurled, its secrets revealed and imprinted forever onto Regulus' psyche, it seemed to mock the mess that was his life; its unblemished innocuousness giving no hint as to the devastation it had wreaked with its delivery.

The 'Death Eater' thing had been all well and good while it had been only himself in danger, his family spared the backlash of the Dark Lord's displeasure. It had been Regulus' understanding that while he worked for Him, his family would be safe. That had been the agreement, unspoken and unsigned though it was, and the Dark Lord had given his word.

What did the Dark Lord's word stand for? Nothing any longer, it seemed.

Tapping his wand negligently against the sole of his dragonhide boots, Regulus contemplated the offending parchment. He was locked and warded within the confines of his four-poster, the better to properly absorb how much his life had changed within the last twelve hours, and what exactly to do about it. The sounds of the other boys in his dorm going about their bed-time preparations seeped through the thick velvet curtains, and Regulus felt detached. More than ever he was different to them, apart from the boys he had grown up with. They were normal, he was Other, a fact he had known for most of his life and yet the enormity of which had only just occurred to him.

They wouldn't disturb him. He was the last Heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, second richest House in the country, with their fingers in every pot and every politician on puppet strings. Here, in Slytherin, they could appreciate that fact, treating him with the deference his birth allowed him. Often it served to make him feel more Other than he knew he already was, but today their behaviour was a blessing, for he needed to think. He needed to plan, as best he could with the limited time that had been afforded to him by this warning.

Absently, he traced Lucius' garishly flamboyant signature with a finger. The warning had come written in his usual fluffy style, plumped up by words most men hadn't used since the eighteenth century, sealed with Lucius' personal seal rather than that of his family or, alternately, as in the case of Regulus' own brother, whatever was lying around in easy reach that was heavy and looked cool. The last missive he had gotten from Sirius, some two years ago now, had bore a picture of a dragon picked out rather crudely in the red wax with one of Evans' hair pins.

Regulus shook his head violently to rid himself of thoughts of his errant brother, but it was no good. Severus' suggestion had haunted him since the trip to Spinners' end some three weeks ago now, pair that with Lucius' message and it was predictable that Sirius would be on his mind. He found himself going over Severus' suggestion again, turning the possibilities over in his mind.

At first, when the concept had been put forward, Regulus had dismissed it out of a confused mixture of pride and concern. He didn't want to put Sirius more at risk than he already was, and at the same time, this honourable gesture would keep Regulus safe from the risk of rejection. Both had seemed perfectly acceptable reasons; between them, the perfect excuse.

That was then, though. Now… now, everything had changed. Severus would think him ridiculous for this, and indeed, Regulus doubted his own sanity on the matter, but this was the proverbial feather that broke the Hippogriff's back. Logical or no, he needed out, and he needed out now.

Sirius was staying at the Potter manse, he had learned from eavesdropping and his own investigations during the last day of the Easter holidays, with the Potter and the rest of his entourage. There, along with his cohort, lived the mysterious 'weapon' the Death Eaters were convinced the Wild Magicks had granted them, unless they had already handed it over to Dumbledore. With the 'weapon' there they were hardly likely to trust Regulus, but he had enough determination to pursue shelter with them anyway, sure he could find some way to get them to trust him. He could be useful to them, he assured himself when his self-consciousness rose, he knew a lot about the Dark Lord and his workings, and he had contacts.

If they were Slytherins and not Gryffindors he would be less nervous. No Slytherin would turn away this opportunity, dangerous though it might appear on the surface. There were too many ways to turn it to their advantage, it would be idiotic to say 'no'.

Regulus pushed away his negative thoughts and focused on the positives: Sirius was his brother, and they loved one another despite their mutual failings. Evans had always been fond of him, too, and she was a soft heart. Potter's mum liked him, that was another stroke in his favour, and even Dumbledore wouldn't be able to turn down his offers of information. There was a way out.

Seeing the light, he grimly prepared himself to reach for it. The other boys were breathing deeply and evenly, not a one was disturbed as he packed his trunk. He burned the letter to ashes in the fireplace and tergeoed the remains before clipping his cloak around his neck, picking up his trunk and his wand, and slipping from the dormitory without a sound.


Lavender gulped down the last serving of Wolfsbane for the month with a decidedly reluctant air, glaring petulantly at Hermione as she did so. Hermione stubbornly refused to take it personally – it was only hours to the full moon now, and Lavender had become increasingly tetchy as the week passed. The attitude she had adopted over the last few days had Hermione yearning for the sassy, spitfire girl she had come to know, her memory seemingly whitewashing away her perceived faults until the Old Lavender had nearly been granted a Sainthood in her mind, so much was she preferred over the near-feral, snarling, volatile creature that sat in front of her now. Lavender's adverse reaction to the coming change had not been unexpected, but the extent to which her personality seemed to have been overrun by her wolf was amazing.

"That's shit," Lavender told her, her voice a rolling purr as she slammed the goblet down next to her tray of untouched food.

"It's necessary," Hermione replied smartly, never particularly renowned for her soothing bedside manner. "You need to eat."

"Not hungry." Lavender scowled as she caught the expression Hermione turned to hide – the other girl was mouthing the response as it was said. It had been the standard over the past two days, though this morning she had made a token attempt to nibble on a sausage. The full moon had apparently stripped Lavender of the will to do anything but glower and complain, leaving Hermione with the impression that she had been strong-armed into playing nursemaid for a younger, far prettier Professor Snape.

"You need the energy," Hermione pushed. Lavender shook her head, climbing back up onto her bed and curling into a ball in the middle, tucking her hands behind her calves and resting her chin on her knees. Her eyes, large and focused, stayed fixed on Hermione as she collected up the tray in defeat and, after placing a bag of Maltesers on the bedside table, stalked from the room.

In the kitchen she found James and Lily; Lily attempting to bake cookies while James flapped around her in characteristically fawning fashion, making the most of the little time they could find to spend together and alone in a house of ten people.

"Oops, sorry," Hermione laughed as James took a comical leap backwards and shot her a wink. Lily blushed deep red, that more than anything informing the brunette that the display was a form of foreplay for the two of them, and regretting even more that she had interrupted.

James seemed undeterred, scooping up a handful of cookie dough while Lily's attention was divided and hopping up onto the counter, swinging his legs as he gnawed on his prize. "She still not eating?"

"Not a bite." She lifted the tray to show off the cooling spaghetti Bolognese. "The elves are going to start refusing to feed her at all."

"Not likely. They're too pleased to have so many more mouths to feed to complain about anything," Lily murmured, moulding her mixture into balls and dropping them onto the baking parchment from a height so that they made a satisfying 'splat' noise, the force compressing them into imperfect circles. "How's Remus doing?"

Grimacing, Hermione moved across to clean the plates, transferring the food into a box for later. "Sirius refused to let me see him," she muttered, scrubbing hard at the dish to release some of the aggression that statement rose in her. "He intercepted me at the door, said Remus was too agitated for visitors."

She downplayed her reaction deliberately, but James' softening expression said she didn't do a very good job of it. If there was one thing about the future everybody in the house accepted but didn't talk about, it was that Hermione and Remus had been close. Nobody asked how close, and Hermione was glad of that, but the more time the two of them spent together in this time the clearer it was that she had experience with him, older and wiser though he was. This only made it hurt more that he had begun to avoid her, and she had had several late nights that week going over and over her actions to try to figure out exactly what she had done wrong.

"'Mione…" James began, his voice low. That was too much, the sound of the horrific nickname she had always abhorred and yet was inextricably linked in her head with the Weasley family and happiness. James had never called her it before, for him to choose this moment felt like a cruel joke from the universe. It was getting hard enough for her to hold it together, without being reminded of what she had lost…

She was a rational person, Hermione. She knew that there had been very little left for her in 1999; her parents and Remus were dead, her friends were drifting away from her, she spent her days alternating between obsessing about work and bitterly observing her friends' more successful lives. There had been no sign of her being able to move forward with her life, she had been unable to shed the past as easily as everybody else, and it had lived as a constant wall between her and the world. By contrast, here in 1979 she felt connected, alive, nothing was blurry any longer and she could feel again.

Still, she had lost much in the move. Harry and Ron would never be the same, she had lost the family she had adored in the Weasleys, her past might as well have never been. Those grades she had worked so very hard for were gone, the Dark Wizard she had fought so hard to kill was back, she was stuck as the commander for a revolution she knew next-to-nothing about in a world of suspicion, guilt and war…

To her horror she felt tears prickling her eyes. "Excuse me," she gasped in a strangled voice, desperate to escape before she could humiliate herself. She forced a walk from legs that would rather run, nonetheless leaving swiftly.


"Are you ready?" Ginny asked, helping Lavender navigate the stairs in the entrance hall as they descended to meet the crowd who awaited them below. It felt a bit like entering an extremely depressing ball, with the grim expressions on everybody's faces. Most of them were wearing black, too: black trousers, black jumpers, a threadbare black tracksuit in Remus' case (an outfit, upon witnessing the unmitigated horror on her face when she had first seen it, he had assured her that he only wore for full moons) and a black dress transfigured from a cotton pillowcase for Lavender. Getting her to change clothes had been a challenge and a half, it took both her and Hermione to wrestle her into the thing, and she had refused underwear on the grounds that 'it would only get fucked up'.

Lavender sent her a scathing look. "That's a stupid question," she grunted as her feet met solid ground. It seemed that what she lacked in energy she could make up for in rancour, Ginny was displeased to note. Tossing lank hair over her shoulder, Lavender turned her pale, greying face on the other and assumed a regal tone. "Let's get this over with."

Remus was in a much better state, though his mood was no lighter. He watched Lavender approach with the air of a condemned man, actually flinching when she took his elbow. Dorea clapped her hands now that they were all assembled, pasting on a bright smile despite the dark mood. "Is everything prepared?"

She was referring to the wards Luna, Lily, James and Sirius had been working on for the past week or so, which theoretically would allow the werewolves a large space outside to enjoy the full moon in, but would prevent them from leaving. It had been unanimously agreed that allowing Lavender free range would be much too dangerous both to herself and the inhabitants of the house, and immediately Luna and James, as the best at Charms, had begun their experimentation. In the orchard they had erected a dome which should, in theory, allow humans free access until moonrise, allow animagi free access all night, but keep the werewolves sealed safely within.

"As good as we can get without testing it," James informed her, wrapping his arms around Lily and resting his cheek on the top of her head. "It should be fine if we stick to the plan."

What he didn't say, but they all knew, was that now they were relying on the luck of the draw. Hopefully, the spells would hold. If not…

"Good enough for me," Lavender said, though Remus looked uneasy. "Let's go."

They left Dorea behind as the rest of them traipsed across the garden towards the orchard and their destination. Lavender and Remus led the charge, though Remus was still looking doubtful and it appeared that he was being dragged. Everybody silently gave Lavender points for bravery; she was charging out to an uncertain fate that could feasibly include death or serious injury, and she only seemed determined to get it over with.

They reached the iridescent cage in no time at all, at which point the more human of the lot stepped back. "Ten minutes," Hermione called, making Remus flinch. Her voice slid across his skin like the finest of fur coats, enflaming his nerves. He had avoided her for fear of Moony, who seemed increasingly enamoured of her scent, but it seemed that he was becoming more sensitised to her, even her voice setting the wolf to prowling.

The girls stepped forward, reaching for Lavender – to hug her or kiss her or even just wish her luck? – but the blonde tossed her hair again, scowled back at them and stepped through the curtain of magic, bringing Remus with her. He shivered as the magic slid over his flesh, an unpleasant crawling sensation beginning between his collarbones and spreading. And then, they were locked in the box, sound muffled slightly but their view of the sky brilliant and unobstructed. By instinct Remus looked to Lavender rather than watch the girls leave for the house, wondering if she might need help or comfort.

Far from that, the woman had stretched out on the floor, leaning on her elbows and tipping her face up to the stars, a peaceful smile on her lips now that the moon was rising.

James and Sirius, now the only people remaining on the other side of the wards, shot him matching grins. The idea was that after the change was over, Padfoot would join them in their cage in animal form, and help him with the new wolf. As second-in-command of the pack, Sirius should be accepted by Lavender, though there was still the risk that she wouldn't recognise their bond and would lash out. For that reason, Prongs would remain outside of the wards, his scent blocked out by their clever charm work, and guard the area.

Remus tried to use the well-thought-out plan to reassure himself, but he had a bad feeling. He wasn't certain what it was, but it was there. These things were unpredictable, nothing could control a werewolf, they just had to have hope.

The first groan from Lavender coincided with the spilling of silver light over the horizon. Remus just had time to turn to her in concern, catch a glimpse of her writhing on the grass, before the pain burned through his spine, forcing him to the ground and wiping awareness from his mind.