a/n Thought it was time this story had a chapter with a bit more action.. we never really see or hear anything about Remus's time as a spy so here is a small insight :)

Chapter Thirty-Four

One Last dance with Wolves

I didn't like being shunned and ostracised, but even I could not resent anyone who had come across Fenrir Greyback for their attitude towards werewolves. He was vicious, malevolent and quite frankly the most repulsive individual I had ever had the misfortune of dealing with. I detested him, and I was pretty sure he knew that only too well.

I had seen Dumbledore just a few days before Christmas, and confessed that I didn't think there was anything more that I could say or do to convince even the weakest of the werewolves to resist the majority opinion. I had been very careful when choosing who to present my arguments too, knowing that trying them with any members of Greyback's inner circle would be pointless, but even those I deemed the most persuadable seemed to be too afraid of Greyback's vengeance to risk offending him, and so even if they may have felt inclined to listen and agree with what I had to say, they did not dare confess it.

It seemed I had run out of options. All except one. One that was undeniably risky, because it meant going back on everything I had been trying to say to the werewolves for the last four months, but one that Dumbledore seemed to think would have a small shot at working, if I was prepared to try. And I was, given that I felt terrible about letting him down in the first place, and was now more keen than ever to avoid the situation with Tonks entirely. I had, therefore, on returning to the pack after Christmas, adopted the role of a double agent, pretending that I was sick of being shunned by wizards and had finally realised that following Voldemort was my only chance to have a better life. The plan was that this way, at the very least, they may include me a little more in their discussions and I would be able to glean some information about Voldemort's movements and his plans where the werewolves were concerned, which would help the Order's defensive strategy.

It was not working brilliantly. My change of heart had been accepted with a surprising lack of suspicion by many of the younger members of the group. I supposed that my story must have seemed quite plausible, given that werewolves were now being treated with more dislike and animosity than ever before by most of the wizarding population, and eventually my gradual acceptance in their midst had brought me face to face with the one individual I had hoped never to see again, whose name had cast fear into my heart from the second my father had consented to give it to me all those years before. Fenrir Greyback.

Greyback had, predictably, been far more suspicious of my actions than most of the others, and I was still struggling to find out much useful information at all. He must, however, have been fooled to a certain extent, for I was still alive and living among the werewolves, which would definitely not be the case had he been certain of my deception. I had a feeling he was reserving judgement on me for the time being, and I was surprised. I had been sure that the second he found out about my integration within the group, the game would be up, not only because of his unpleasant history with my family, but because I was convinced he would know, from Voldemort, that I was a member of the Order, and that those I loved most had been stripped from my life by his master, thus deducing that I could not possibly be prepared to ally myself with him. Dumbledore, of course, had had what was turning out to be a more accurate prediction on the matter.

"Voldermort does not understand that type of loyalty," he had said heavily, when I had expressed my doubts that Greyback would accept my story without question. "He has no concept of avenging those we love, or fighting for those we have lost, no idea of what it means to despise those people who have cruelly taken our loved ones from us, for he himself has never loved anyone. Voldemort comprehends only power, and the selfish desire to preserve one's own life, and this will almost certainly be mirrored in his subordinates."

"Do not misunderstand me," Dumbledore had finished, eyeing me intently. "I am not for a second claiming that this will be easy work, Remus. But your chance of success in this mission relies on two of Voldemort's very greatest weaknesses. His greatest fear is death, and because he believes that he alone has the power to prevent his death, he trusts no one and operates alone. He is therefore unlikely to have even shared the information he has procured on the Order with Greyback, and even if he has, I doubt he will be suspicious of the apparent desire to switch sides in order to save your own skin, for it is the sentiment he understands best."

And so, with these dark words as my only inspiration that what I was doing wasn't entirely fruitless, I kept up my pretence. I did not see or make contact with any of the Order in the months that followed Christmas. I joined in the spiteful conversations on wizards and their ways, and even participated in the laughter when a member came back and reported that he had tasted human flesh, as sickened as I felt to join in. I did, however, manage to avoid causing anyone harm, or participating in any of their organised kills, for nearly four whole months after my return. The pack did not have the management of either the Order or Voldemort's Death Eaters, and so they attacked completely at random, proudly bringing their news back to Greyback, and there were so many werewolves who came from far and wide to report to him that my absence in these attacks went unnoticed for quite some time.

oOo

The pack centred themselves around Greyback's "house", a shack in the forest on the outskirts of a little wizarding hamlet. This was where they – where we – gathered to hear news, where we reported any sightings of potential new meat to Greyback and where we assembled, on the full moon, and prepared to transform. Needless to say, these were my least favourite gatherings. I hated going to the shack in general, but I forced myself there at least every week in order to keep up my appearance as a converted wizard-hating werewolf. And it was there, one gloomy evening in the last week of April, that my luck at managing to avoid being part of any brutal behaviour finally ran out.

I had head their voices from a long way off, considered turning back and then decided not to be a coward. Stepping into the shack, it was with a feeling of horror and regret at not following my first instinct to flee that I realised that they had captured a small child, who was tied with dirty fraying ropes to one of the few wooden chairs that had not been smashed up during the chaos of our group transformations.

The child was whimpering in fear; the wolves were cackling; Greyback jeering, and then, sheer delight on his face, he turned as he heard me enter behind him.

"Just in time," he whispered, and I saw the three others who were present exchange gleeful looks. "Well, Loopy, I think we will reserve this honor specially for you." He stood aside and looked at me expectantly.

So this was it. Finally, my test had come. This was the moment where, in order to prove my worth to these foul beings, I was expected to maul this innocent child to death, not as a mindless monster, but as a conscious and moral human being. And I was supposed to relish every pitiful cry, cherish each agonised squeal and embrace the realisation that I deserved human flesh just like the rest of my equals.

There was no way in hell, was my immediate thought, and hell would have been highly preferable to where I was right at that minute.

Greyback's yellow eyes flicked lazily over my face and he looked smug. Perhaps he had always known that I had never wavered in my allegiances, knew full well that I was not about to maim an innocent boy. Dumbledore must have known it would come to this, I thought bitterly. He must have suspected that I would at some point have to make a sacrifice to prove my worth. But as I stepped closer towards the pitiful figure of the child in front of me, his eyes, full of terror and dismay, locked with my own. He could be no older than five years old, I realised, and I recalled, in a split second, the terror of the night I was bitten and how I had suffered almost every day since because of it.

I heard Tonks' voice, unusually shrill and very emotional. "It doesn't change who you are inside."

There were countless moments in my past to feel ashamed of, numerous times where I wished I had acted differently, many regrets. But I had never considered myself a murderer. When I first joined the Order, at just eighteen years of age, and realised that, in order to survive, I may at some point have to kill, I had made a promise to myself that whatever happened I would never be guilty of taking someone's life if they had done nothing to try and harm me or those I loved.

Then, three years ago, realising how thankful I was that Harry had stepped in and prevented me and Sirius from turning our wands on our former best friend, I had amended this internal vow, swearing that I would never be guilty of taking anyone's life, innocent or not, unless there truly was no other option. And now, spy though I was, I was not about to break that promise.

"Well?" Greyback's hiss from behind me held a potential death sentence, but I had made up my mind. I reacted fast, magically slicing the ropes that bound the child and grabbing him from the chair. The four men immediately tried to close in on me, but blasting them out of the way, I ran, the child in my arms. I was far more accomplished at duelling than the werewolves, who tended to use brute strength, but it was still four against one. Throwing curses over my shoulder, I managed to halt them temporarily, and was able to put a bit of distance between us and buy the child some time. Finally, on the edge of the little hamlet, I slowed, panting heavily, and heard with great alarm that the others were not far behind.

"Run," I gasped to him, indicating a small cottage where I knew an old wizarding couple lived. They were eccentric but kindly, and would definitely help him, if I could just buy him time to get there. He set off as fast as his small legs would carry him, and I turned to face the others, to stop them from following. Greyback reached me first, dodged the curse I sent at him and in one vicious swipe with his arm, sent me flying to the ground, knocking the wind out of me completely.

"Leave the child," Greyback snarled, as one of the other werewolves made to go after him, and he turned back at once. To my intense relief I saw the child reach the door of the cottage as they closed in on me, and knew that I had at least kept him safe for that day. But as I lay there, still struggling to draw breath, my vision was blocked my Greyback's bulk as he knelt down, crushing my wand arm beneath him. "I knew it," he spat, as the other three pinned down my other limbs. "Dumbledore's puppet. Pretending to be one of us. Some were fooled. But you stink of human too much for me to have ever believed you."

I struggled ineffectually as Greyback lowered his hand, and his sharpened nails that so resembled claws slipped through the light cotton of my shirt with absurd ease, deep into my flesh, and ripped a large chunk out of my side. I felt a gush of warm blood and stars blotted my eyelids as I tried to block out the pain. As Greyback repeated the action, I struggled even more, trying desperately to throw everyone off, but it was hopeless and as a fresh wave of blood soaked my ripped shirt I felt the nausea wash over me. At least, I thought, as my vision clouded and my head pounded, I had tried to save a life before I died.

Greyback was cackling softly. "Thirty years," he whispered. "Thirty years since I first sank my teeth into your youthful skin Lupin, and look where we are once more. Your flesh isn't quite as tender as it once was, I admit, but I won't complain. If only your father were still alive to feel the final force of my revenge."

It was the mention of my father that renewed my determination. My father hadn't accepted defeat, but had fought until the very last second of his life. I had seen proof of it, time after time, when I returned to my parents' run down house in my long years as an outcast to use it as a safe base for my transformations. And so as Greyback lowered his teeth towards my bleeding side, and the werewolf on my other side slackened his hold as he watched gleefully, I jerked my left arm free. My fist collided with Greyback's head with a fair amount of force, and taking advantage of his temporary confusion, I wrenched my wand arm free as well and kicked out with one of my legs. Now able to use magic, and free of two of my restrainers, I slashed the air. The other two loosened their grip as well, and I took my chance before I lost consciousness completely, and disapparated.

I reappeared, seconds later, in the fields outside the Burrow, managed to raise my wand and gather my thoughts enough to conjure a message for help before everything went black.

oOo

Shouts. Thudding footsteps that reverberated through the moist ground. Panicked voices. Pairs of hands lifting me onto a floating stretcher. Then darkness again.

Light beat down on my closed eyelids and with great difficulty I finally managed to force them open. Tonks' stricken face was staring down at me and Molly was knelt beside me, speaking in tones of great concern as she assessed the wound on my side. "They look like claw wounds rather than bites," she was saying. "But the spells I know aren't working. I'm not sure what else I can do."

Bill was also looking worried. "What happened?" he said urgently, seeing that my eyes were open.

I could feel my mouth making movements and hear sounds issuing from it. I had no idea if what I was saying made any sense at all, but Molly, Bill and Tonks seem to understand something.

"I'll send word to McGonagall," Bill said, jumping up. "Dumbledore's away but he will need to be informed as soon as he returns. And she may be able to send someone to help with the wound."

I had no idea how much time had passed, but I had been transferred to Fred and George's room and was at last fully conscious and attempting to talk to Tonks, who had insisted on staying with me, when a cold voice was heard from the kitchen below.

I groaned, recognizing the emotionless tones immediately. For all I had told Harry about my indifference towards him, I certainly never rejoiced at the idea of being in his presence. Tonks looked equally displeased but said, "He'll help you. He knows loads about cursed wounds."

Severus Snape, to give him his due, did indeed know what he was doing, and wasted no time. Within seconds my flesh was sewing itself back together, the wounds tightly bound in a single red scar, the mangled skin now simply a little tender and raw, and the blood neatly siphoned off the surrounding sheets.

I lay there, already feeling a good deal of relief from the pain, as Snape looked down at me without pity. "What happened Lupin?"

Unable to look him in the eye, and wishing heartily that Tonks was not there, I recounted what had happened, how I hadn't been able to go through with the murder of a child, how I had tried to save him, how Greyback had inflicted the wound on my side.

When I finally managed to look at Snape's face, it was wearing a very cold, scornful expression. "And I suppose it did not occur to you that your task was to be accepted by the opposition?" he sneered. "That your rightful course of action in that situation would have been to do as instructed and win over Greyback's confidence?"

"Is that what you do Snape?" Tonks spat at him from beside me. "Commit murder and torture and unspeakable crimes and tell yourself it's fine just because you're doing it to cover up who you're actually working for?"

Snape regarded her coldly. "It may have escaped your notice, Nymphadora, but covering up who you're working for is exactly what the role of a spy entails. And, regrettable as it is, sometimes sacrifices must be made if people are not to discover where our true allegiances lie."

"Tonks just leave it," I muttered to her, as I sensed her lividness increase beside me.

"You've done your job so get out!" she snarled at Snape. "Just because you can murder in cold blood and not feel any remorse. Maybe some of us have more of a conscience."

"How touching," Snape murmured softly. "Sticking up for your mate. Even if he doesn't want you."

In some respects, Tonks had very thick skin. I had in the past seen insults - even Snape's - bounce off her like water off a duck's back, but he had just touched a nerve that had been open and raw for several months now, and Tonks instantly went white and turned away. She didn't see me open my mouth to protest, and Snape, looking satisfied, interrupted me. "I haven't got time to listen to you pour out your entire heart, I'm afraid Lupin, I came to address the injury and now I must get back to school. Some of us still have a job to do, you know." I glared at him as he pulled a small bottle out from his robes. "Apply this to the wound twice a day," he snapped curtly, and turned on his heel and left.

I looked towards Tonks. I couldn't see her face, but judging by her shaking shoulders, I guessed that there were tears running down her cheeks.

"Tonks?" She did not reply, but I heard a muffled sniff. I reached out a hand and touched her arm,

"It's not true what he said about you," I said, after a very long, awkward pause. "You know it's not. But he is right about everything else."

"He's not right," Tonks snapped irritably. "You know he's not."

"I should have just got on with it and stuck to my role." I said stubbornly. "I was just weak."

Tonks finally whipped around, glaring at me furiously. "You think that's weak? You think standing up to four werewolves and rescuing a child is weak? For god's sake Remus! Are you ever going to acknowledge that-" she broke off as the door was pushed open and Dumbledore appeared. Colour flooded back into Tonks' pale cheeks instantly.

"Sorry Professor Dumbledore," she said.

"No need to apologize Nymphadora," he smiled at her. "In fact, it sounds as if you are giving Remus some good, sound advice."

Tonks blushed even more, getting up and making for the door.

"I'll just go," she murmured.

"You are quite welcome to stay here," Dumbledore said gently. "But, as you are up, perhaps you might go and fetch yourself and Remus some hot chocolate? Molly has made a full jug of it downstairs and I feel that it would be most welcome for both of you in the current situation."

Tonks disappeared without a word and I looked guiltily at Dumbledore.

"I thought you were away!"

"I returned tonight!" Dumbledore said briskly. "Indeed I had just returned when Minerva received Bill's message, but I had an unexpected meeting with Harry that I could not delay, hence why I am a little late."

I opened my mouth to ask questions but he shook his head. "Not important for now Remus. It is yourself and your well being I came to talk about. Severus has just informed me how the injury came about."

I couldn't meet his blue-eyed gaze, too ashamed that I had failed in my task.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. But Dumbledore sounded incredulous as he replied. "Why are you sorry Remus? If anything, your actions tonight sounded quite heroic, even when summed up in a few fairly disparaging sentences by Severus Snape."

"Snape.. reminded me," I muttered, still not meeting his gaze, "he reminded me that my job was a spy, that I shouldn't have given myself away."

Even though I was not looking at him, I could almost feel his blue eyes boring into me as he replied.

"There are times, of course, when unfortunately sacrifices must indeed be made, for the greater good." I could have sworn that I heard an emotional break in his voice as he said these words, but when I finally looked up at him he was looking as serene and composed as ever. "And then there are other times," he went on. "Times when the best and most noble thing to do is to stand up for what we believe in. Indeed, you once sat in front of me in the Great Hall as I told each of my pupils to remain true to themselves in the face of Voldemort's spreading domination. What you did tonight, therefore, was exactly what I asked of you, albeit many years ago, and you have absolutely no reason to feel shame in your actions."

"I failed," I said stubbornly. Dumbledore sighed, now sounding quite impatient.

"I currently have two students at my school who, their head of house informs me, are stricken with grief, unable to work, smile or function as normal teenagers should because their little brother was killed by a werewolf barely a week ago. I assume you are aware of this?"

I nodded. I had not been witness to this particular act, but I had heard some of them talking gleefully about it afterwards. Daniel Montgomery had been five years old – just like the unnamed little boy I had saved earlier that day - and had been mauled to death by Greyback himself.

"By refusing to bend to their will, by saving this child tonight, you not only preserved an innocent life, you may also have saved many friends and relatives a lifetime of grief and sorrow. You may even, if this story is retold, have given more people the courage to fight as you did. And that, Remus, can hardly be counted as a failure."

I knew that what he was saying was true. I also knew that even if I were given the chance to repeat today's events, I would never be able to harm the boy who had sat innocently before me. But Snape's goading had finally got to me again. Snape had made me feel weak, and pathetic, and sentimental. And sentiment wasn't going to win me any battles.

"But what if more people die now because we no longer have a spy among the werewolves," I burst out. "That's what Snape was saying. Snape wouldn't have blown his cover like I did. He would have found a way to stay a spy, maybe even without murdering innocent children."

"I wonder," Dumbledore chided severely, now with a distinct hint of irony in his voice, "what Mr Potter and Mr Black would be thinking right now if they knew that one of their dearest friends was expressing a regret that he had not acted as Severus Snape would have done."

I had no retort to this, because I knew exactly how they would both react and it was by picturing their furious and disbelieving faces in my mind that I at last accepted the argument that I was being ridiculous.

"I couldn't have gone through with it," I admitted, looking grudgingly up into Dumbledore's blue eyes again. "I would never have been able to kill a child."

"That," Dumbledore said, "I know perfectly well. As for losing you as a spy, Remus, I think we both know that we were persevering in an increasingly uphill battle with Greyback. We still have allies infiltrated in many of Voldemort's other devoted groups of followers, and I feel your talents can be invested much more productively elsewhere from now on. Once you are fully recovered, of course."

"I want to go back," I said stubbornly. I had no idea why I was saying it, other than, perhaps, a feeling that I did not want to face the Order members after what had happened. Or maybe I just didn't want to have to face Tonks, after walking out on her all those months before. "I want to try again."

"No!" The anguished gasp had come from the doorway, where she now stood, carrying a tray with not only hot chocolate, but also a plate of biscuits and a jug of water. "You can't!" she added shakily as two pairs of eyes turned steadily to her. "They'll kill you!"

Dumbledore looked approvingly at the tray before addressing me one more time. "Well, you seem to be in good hands here, so I think I shall leave you. As for returning, there is no question of it, as Nymphadora has just pointed out. I have no desire to send you needlessly to your murder, Remus. You are an extremely valuable member of the Order and unless I'm very much mistaken," he winked at Tonks, "you would be sorely missed".

Knowing it would be pointless to protest, I decided to let the feeling of relief, that I had been wanting to let in ever since I got back to the Burrow, wash over me. Whatever dangers might lay ahead of me one thing was certain. I didn't have to go back.

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