This Beastly Salvation

Chapter Seven

Author's Note: Here with another update! I've got some hand injury issues that are slowing me down, but this is literally the thing I care about most right now, so I promise I'll keep posting as much as I can! If I had thought to add chapter titles from the beginning, this one would be called Tantalus. Also, credits to my friend Raven for suggesting Lucius's spell choice toward the end of the chapter. I'm grateful for your depravity, now and always.

On a good day, Remus would've been able to hear the Slytherins coming long before he saw them. Today was not a good day. Their taunts and jeers crashed over him as they passed on the way to the Quidditch pitch, intentionally walking too close and knocking him around as they went. Remus instinctively pulled his cloak closer and lowered his head, and at first the strategy seemed to be working — until one of their elbows made a swift connection to his ribs. Remus stumbled, trying to catch himself against one of the small trees along the walkway, but failed miserably, falling knees-first into the muddy lawn instead.

Muck splattered across his face as his hands hit the ground, causing the young wizard to curse under his breath. He could feel a prickling heat rising in his stomach and spreading up his chest and neck. It was a potent mixture of rage and embarrassment and it led him to try and push himself back up onto his feet immediately. He failed, losing his purchase and crashing shoulder-first back into the mud. The young wizard growled, slapping his hand against the sopping earth and trying to heave himself up again, ignoring the strain in his now-injured shoulder.

"Get up," a cold voice sounded from behind him.

"You don't think I'm trying to?" Remus spat, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to push himself upright.

"You're going to be late. Get up."

"What's it to you?" Remus muttered, finally gaining traction with the heels of his shoes and pulling himself upward. He didn't bother looking at the speaker for a moment, instead choosing to pull out his wand and begin cleaning himself up as best he could. Sirius could've done it better. He was used to hiding his escapades.

"We wouldn't want you to miss a chance to talk with your boyfriend, now would we?"

Remus felt his stomach flip. He spun on his heels, eyes flashing, cheeks rosy, fists clenched tightly at his side — and then he stopped in his tracks, realizing who had been speaking to him. Two pale blonde heads, accompanied by one greasy blackhaired one: Lucius, Narcissa, and Severus. Narcissa was standing with her arms crossed, her face reproachful as she watched Lucius sneering at Remus. Severus stood a few steps behind them, shoulders folded inward, arms crossed around several books. Remus suddenly found himself longing for the Quidditch pitch, regardless of what was waiting for him there.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy," Remus muttered, tucking his wand back into his pocket and using his freshly cleaned sleeve to finish wiping off his face. He was always nervous to point his own wand at his own face — not that he'd tell his friends that.

"Oh, surely you do, Lupin," Lucius narrowed his eyes, a cold smirk bending his lips at an unnatural angle. Even as a teenager, the young Malfoy had a face that looked far better suited to scowling than a smile.

"I don't," Remus sighed, straightening his back and shoving his cold hands into his pockets. "And I can't be particularly bothered to sort it out. Let me go now, or you'll be the reason I'm late."

Lucius clicked his tongue, cocking an eyebrow. "That would hardly be befitting of a prefect, now would it?" he crooned, even as he took a step closer.

"Hardly," Remus squared his shoulders, raising himself up to his full height. He was almost taller than Lucius, now.

"Do you think that you might need an escort, after that tumble?" Lucius spoke again, pausing only a step away from Remus's hot face. "I certainly wouldn't mind seeing how Black would feel about seeing you limp, after the chat you two had yesterday."

Remus felt his mouth go dry.

"I'm fine," Remus mumbled, "and you'd only be causing a distraction if you came up to the Gryffindor stands."

"I suspect there'll be just as much of a distraction when Black gets up and moves seats after seeing you arrive."

"Oh shove off, Malfoy," Remus sighed, wrapping his cloak around himself and attempting to circle past Lucius and his companions, back toward the main path. He had been loitering just off to the side in the bright morning light, having told Peter he would catch up after fixing his shoelaces.

The image of Sirius getting up and sitting somewhere else was almost enough to take his breath away, but Remus knew that facing his fears would be far better than letting the Slytherins continue to make him more and more anxious.

"It makes me a bit concerned for your wellbeing, Lupin — that you'd think a Pureblood would be interested in the likes of you."

Remus felt the word 'Pureblood' plunge itself into his spine, sending icy pain flashing through his nervous system. The Noble House of Black. Remus knew very well the burden that came with that name.

"Although I suppose Sirius has always been a bit off , hasn't he?"

Remus's nostrils flared, but he managed to keep his composure otherwise intact. "You would know," Remus replied, trying to keep his head pointed straight forward. "You've got a lot more experience sleeping around with the family, don't you?"

Remus steeled himself for an attack from Lucius, but when it didn't come, he allowed himself a quick glance backward. Narcissa was at Lucius's side, hand resting on his shoulder, a serious look on her face. Severus remained a silent shadow behind the both of them, watching Remus with dead eyes.

"Leave him be," Narcissa spoke in a smooth, cold voice. It was almost hypnotic. "You can't keep accosting him like this and not expect the word to get out. Sirius's mother will have my head if she finds out rumours like that are going around."

"You have nothing to worry about, Cissy," Lucius grumbled, pulling his shoulder out from under her touch. "It was very obvious that your dear cousin didn't feel the same."

"I don't care," Narcissa snapped, blue eyes flashing. "That's enough."

Lucius kissed his teeth and kicked at the dirt, eyes darting between his girlfriend and Remus for a moment before he made an exasperated growl. "Fine," he muttered. "Then let's get moving."

Narcissa led the way, glancing over her shoulder at Remus as she passed. He couldn't read the emotion in them, but he didn't have long to try, since she reached out for Lucius's hand and turned back toward the Quidditch pitch in a matter of seconds.

"Be careful not to catch fleas, Remus," Severus hissed as he passed, keeping his eyes trained straight ahead. Remus bristled, but said nothing until the trio were well and truly out of earshot.

"Next time you plan to impulsively confess your love, Moony," Remus muttered to himself as he resumed his walk to the pitch, "try not to do it the day before a Gryffindor match."

Lucius had been wrong. He hadn't confronted Remus about the confession in class; they wouldn't have had any classes together, with the six year age gap. It had been outside, on a Saturday, while Remus was putting off the inevitability of sitting down with Padfoot and Wormtail to watch James play. The memory had come to Remus when he'd been pacing his cell, searching his mind for useful information. He had been thinking about Narcissa, and what he recalled of her from their school years. The memory had come easily after that, sharp and stinging, and with it the realization that it was likely Narcissa's influence alone that had kept Remus's feelings from becoming public knowledge.

Remus had not seen Naricssa in-person in a very long time, but she remained a clear, icy sculpture in his mind's eye. Beside her, two sisters: one with the same hair and lips that he sometimes saw Tonks revert to her in her sleep, and the other… Remus felt sick, raising his hands up to his eyes and rubbing furiously. Perhaps it was best not to think about Narcissa for longer than absolutely necessary.

There was Draco, then. The pitiful, conniving Draco. Thinking about him did not bring the same complicated feelings as the rest of the Black-Malfoy family did, but it did raise questions. Draco certainly wanted his father to care; but what kind of care could come from a father like that? Remus glanced at his water bowl, currently empty, and wondered not for the first time what Draco's childhood must have been like. Perhaps that was what made Draco seem so pathetic. Harry did not think he was pathetic. As far as Harry was concerned, Draco was already a fully consenting Death Eater. Harry was prone to that kind of all-or-nothing thinking. And now Harry was alone again, abandoned by yet another would-be father figure, and Remus's stomach was turning in his gut. Perhaps thinking about Draco was somewhat complicated, too.

Remus stopped pacing, pausing by the water bowl and bending down to pick it up. He raised it to his face and tipped it so that he could see his features reflected back at him in the bottom of the bowl. Although he didn't recognize himself at first, he knew that the reflection could belong to no one else. The wizard had been alone in his cell for two days, visited only in brief moments by his captor. Lucius had brought food twice, seemingly in the very early morning or the middle of the night judging by the silence in the rest of the Manor. He hadn't said anything, just conjured water for Remus, watched him drink his first sips, sneered, and left. Remus knew it was a waiting game. His former upperclassman would have to talk to him eventually.

Remus set the bowl back down and lifted a hand up to his ear, fiddling absent-mindedly with his piercing. He said it out loud to try to make it true. "He has to talk to me eventually."

The morning came in an ugly flash of white light, the shattering of glass, the shouts of children flinging spells, and a vision of Naricssa sobbing over their son's lifeless body. Lucius's eyes snapped open, heart pounding. He was on his back, cold from the sweat that had pooled around him. He looked over to Narcissa's side of the bed, breath shallow and terrified. She wasn't there, but when he reached out to touch where she should've been, the bed was still warm. She'd left recently. During his nightmare, perhaps. Lucius groaned, rolling onto his side and rubbing his eyes for a moment. His wedding ring felt tight around his finger, which seemed to have swollen a bit during the night.

He craned his neck around to glance at the windows flanking the bed, looking for any hint of sunlight creeping in below the drapes. Nothing. It was rare for Narcissa to wake before him. Lucius sighed, scratching at his stubble and staring at the canopy above him for a moment before throwing the thick blankets off and clambering out of bed.

Lucius watched himself with cold disinterest as he brushed his teeth. His eyes had dark bags under them, and his frown lines seemed to have deepened. He leaned forward to pull at his own skin, grimacing for a moment before stepping back away from the sink and pulling his sleeping gown up over his head. Standing naked before the mirror, Lucius was struck by how long it had been since he had stopped to look at himself that way. His body felt like a toy he had not picked up for a long time. He took a deep breath, running his hand through the silver hair on his chest, watching the redness that rose up where his fingers touched. He drew his eyebrows together, face clouding for an instant before he let his hand fall. Lucius wondered if, perhaps, he should sleep without his gown on one of these nights after all.

He shook his head, braiding his hair back and away from his face before he began applying shaving cream—enchanted to never allow the blade to cut his skin. His movements were slow and methodical, a practiced routine in precision and intent, straight razor gliding over tired skin. This, at least, required very little thought for him. His shoulders relaxed as he carried out the routine, eyes focusing in on the task at hand, mind emptying. It was quiet and pleasant enough that once he was done, Lucius hesitated. He held the flat side of the blade to his lip, enjoying the cold, smooth sensation. Eyes closed, Lucius reviewed what he needed to ascertain from the werewolf. He'd let him languish in his cell for long enough. The list was too long to wait any longer.

Lucius paused outside of the cellar door, taking a moment to steel himself. He held the werewolf's bag of food in one hand, having left it on a table to go stale overnight, and his wand in the other. His cane was tucked under his arm, ready to accept his wand whenever he was ready. The air felt thick and damp. He flicked his wrist, and the door unlocked.

Lucius wrinkled his nose as he walked in, immediately cleaning the space with a couple of carefully timed swish es before turning and enchanting the lock behind him once more. His steps toward the cells were long and confident, eyes having already adjusted to the shadowy halls above. Still, it took him a moment to spot his captive in the dark room, hunched as he was against the back corner.

"Good morning, Lucius," Remus murmured in a groggy voice. He stretched his arms over his head and grunted before standing up. Lucius frowned, stopping just short of the bars and reaching his hand out.

"Come get it," he snapped.

Remus rolled his neck but said nothing as Lucius approached, taking a few short strides toward his captor and reaching out his own hand to grab at the bag. Lucius dropped it at the last second, watching with mild satisfaction as Remus groaned and dipped down to pick it up, cheeks somewhat flushed when he straightened out again.

"Thank you," Remus offered a placid smile before turning and walking back over to the wall, beginning to rummage through the bag's contents.

"Where's your bowl?" Lucius pushed ahead, ignoring Remus's thanks.

"Ah, sorry," Remus lifted a finger up, a businessman who'd forgotten one last piece of paperwork, before raising it to his chin and tapping theatrically. "I wonder… ah yes," he blinked and looked back over to Lucius. "Exactly where you left it."

"It's not," Lucius sneered. "I leave it by the door. You moved it. Bring it back here."

"Where else could it be, Lucius? I can cross my room in five steps squared. There's no place to lose anything."

"Exactly. Put your food down and bring me your bowl, or I'll take the food back myself."

"I don't know where it is, Lucius. Just use your wand."

Lucius squared his shoulders. He almost did raise his wand, though certainly not to mutter Accio — but thought better of it. He paused instead, choosing to drop his cane out from the crook of his arm and slip the wand into its position instead. Resting the cane between his legs for a moment, Lucius pulled a smooth satin ribbon from his pocket and tied his hair back in a low tail. He had worn a lower thread count trouser today, along with an old undershirt and vest that he used to don when he would work with the hounds while his son played nearby.

"Has your time alone been productive, Remus?" Lucius asked. His voice came out still and calculating, like a professor giving an aural exam.

"'Productive' might not be the right word for it," Remus replied, raising his eyebrows.

"No?" Lucius fretted, clasping his hands and cane behind his back and taking a long breath in. "That's too bad. I had hoped it might offer you an opportunity to think after spending so much time with the inbreds at the Weasleys' tiny hovel. What do they call it again? The Warren?"

"You think Molly Weasley'd let me live in her house? Your intel must be worse than I thought," Remus scoffed as he reached into the bag and pulled out the end of a loaf of bread, bringing it to his nose and giving it a quick sniff before biting into it. Satisfied with its quality, he set the bag back down on the ground.

"You look feral when you eat like that," Lucius sneered, wrinkling his nose again.

"Well, if you'd like to start bringing me a plate and cutlery, I'd be happy to oblige," Remus raised his bread as if giving a toast. Lucius's mouth twitched.

"Still, whether you were with the Weasels or not, I can't imagine you've been alone. Animals like to group together when they're frightened."

"Is that why your master's been keeping all of you here?" Remus asked, voice muffled by the stale bread he was attempting to chew. "Keeping you safe from the dangers outside?"

"Hardly," Lucius hissed. "We are the dangers outside. Surely you've heard about the attacks—even if the Prophet has been keeping things quiet."

"Have you been the one leading those attacks, Lucius? Perhaps before what happened at the Ministry… surely your master would be more hesitant, now…" Remus tucked his left hand into his pocket and leaned against the wall as he continued to chew and speak.

"He did not hesitate in sending me to you, did he?" Lucius felt his nails dig into his skin, still holding his arms behind him.

"No," Remus inclined his head, "no, he seemed quite eager to let you chase after dogs in the woods. Was that your idea?"

Lucius straightened his back and locked his jaw before taking another long, shaky breath. "Nothing happens here without the Dark Lord's direct oversight and permission. We are privileged to have such an attentive leader."

"Attentive," Remus's brow twitched, and Lucius felt his stomach tighten. It took everything in him to keep his mouth shut as he watched the werewolf wipe breadcrumbs off his stubble before continuing. "I wonder if you miss when you could make decisions on your own? From what I remember, that was always a strong suit of yours."

Lucius jutted out his jaw and stuck his nose up at his captive. " Funny ," he drawled, looking Remus up and down across the distance between them, "hearing you talk about making your own decisions. I don't know if I ever even saw you pick your own meals without one of your friends going first."

Remus smirked. "Did you spend a lot of time watching me eat, Lucius?"

"Everyone saw you eating, mutt," Lucius replied, baring his teeth in disgust as he spoke. "You were like a pack of wild animals."

"I wonder how that must've felt for you. To watch friends enjoy themselves. I don't know if I've ever seen you laugh."

"Unlike some ," Lucius spat, "I don't feel the need to broadcast every pleasurable moment I experience for the whole world to see."

"Right," Remus nodded, "the home and the treasure hoard and the clothes are simply happenstance. Nothing ostentatious about that."

"It would be hard for you to understand displays of wealth, wouldn't it, dog? I was shocked to see you wearing clothes in such good condition for your little stroll out in the countryside. Did you buy them yourself? Or perhaps you used some of Potter's money? I'm sure he has enough to go around."

A shadow flickered across Remus's face. "Well, I wouldn't have wanted to get wet out in the rain, now would I?"

"Of course not," Lucius replied. "The other wolves would've smelled your wet fur from miles away."

"Exactly," Remus pointed his index finger at Lucius and nodded as if praising a student who'd shouted out the right answer. Lucius tilted his head and let his lips twist into a faint, belittling smile.

"I've always wondered if dogs are disgusted by their own stench. Do you nauseate yourself when you turn?" the Dark Wizard asked, letting his shoulders relax slightly.

"Why would I let myself get caught up in the smell when there are so many other things to be nauseated by?" Remus asked, shrugging as he shoved the last of his bread into his mouth.

"Oh, please," Lucius scoffed, rolling his eyes off to the side and puckering his mouth. "Don't give me the self-loathing performance. It's an insult to us both."

"I promise, Lucius," Remus sighed, straightening up and bringing his hand to his throat, gently massaging at the bruises Lucius had left behind several days prior. "It is not an act."

"It is ," Lucius sighed, looking back to his captive with narrowed eyes, "and it's one that you've honed over the years to manipulate fools like Black and his cousin. The entirety of Dumbledore's army, really. A convincing portrait of a sympathetic, tragic hero."

"Hero?" Remus snorted. "Have I done anything heroic lately?"

"You stopped Potter from throwing himself through the Veil after your inamorato."

Remus froze for an instant. Lucius felt a delicious tremor of pleasure ripple through him as he watched the werewolf swallow and glance down, eyes glossing over for only an instant. When he looked back to his captor, his careful mask had been replaced. "You would've done the same, if it were Draco. That's not heroism. It's instinct."

"And yet you would abandon Potter now to throw your life away here, in my home?" Lucius asked, letting his arms drop to his side, cane dragging along the stone floor for a moment before it settled into place. He gripped the silver snake head tight. "You seem to lack some other crucial instincts."

"As I said: not a hero," Remus replied with a crooked, mirthless smile.

"It's really of benefit to the boy that you're not in his life. Your cowardice might be doing someone some favour for once."

"Do you care about his well-being, Malfoy?"

Lucius's eyes flashed. "I wonder if I should care more, mutt? Perhaps you know something that I don't?"

Remus let out a half-hearted laugh, shaking his head. "You should ask your master, Lucius. He's the one going mad over a teenage boy."

Lucius bristled, but said nothing.

"Still," Remus smiled again, turning and starting to walk back towards the far wall of his cage, "that was a skillful choice of words. You might've caused another man to slip up with that one."

"But not a beast so brilliant as yourself?" Lucius curled his lip, watching as his prisoner bent down and picked something up off the shadowy floor. He felt his eye twitch when the werewolf turned around, holding the flashing metal bowl.

"Look what I found," he raised it up, giving it a lackadaisical wave. "I must've forgotten where I put it earlier."

"A pity," Lucius feigned disappointment as Remus approached him, resisting the urge to take a step back. "I was hoping you'd continue to ignore it and I could leave you to dry out."

"Ah, I apologize," Remus paused, lowering the bowl. "I thought you didn't want to fulfill my death wish?"

"A day without water wouldn't kill you," Lucius scowled. "Only weaken you."

"What if you got called away on one of your important missions? Would you leave me here without any respite?"

"You are my responsibility, now. I'm not going anywhere until I get what I want from you."

"What you want? Or what you need ? You seemed rather desperate in front of your master."

"You're calling him my master, now, instead of by his name. Why?" Lucius asked, leaning forward.

"He exerts quite a bit of… influence over you, doesn't he, Lucius?" Remus leaned forward a bit, as if waiting for an answer. "It seems as though you're as beholden to him as I am to you."

"Beholden?" If Lucius had hackles, they would've risen. "Is that so?"

He took another step forward so that his face was nearly touching the cell door, now.

"I wonder how he keeps you in your place, proud as you are. Your wife, maybe? If you don't like making others watch your pleasure, perhaps you enjoy watching theirs . There are other wizards I'd be more surprised to call a cuckold."

Lucius nearly growled, eyes widening and shoulders dropping behind him. He grabbed at his cane with his right hand, pulling out his wand with his left and lifting it square with Lupin's chest. They were only a couple of steps apart, now. The bowl was still in the werewolf's hands.

"Say it again," Lucius growled, knuckles white around his wand.

Remus paused, eyes dancing over his captor's face, as if he were doing some kind of mathematical equation. "I'm sorry," he finally said, voice light, as if he'd bumped into someone in a shop. "It was a guess, honestly. I didn't expect it to be true."

" Petrificus Totalus !"

Lucius roared the spell out before fully registering what he had done. In the end, he felt almost as surprised as Remus looked as he dropped to the floor, arms and legs locked to his sides. The bowl clattered against the stone as the werewolf thudded down behind it, head just spared a dangerous crack against the ground as his shoulders hit first.

Lucius unlocked the cell door and stepped inside without missing a beat, chest heaving with shallow, belaboured breaths. It took everything in him to resist the urge to lunge forward. Instead, he took a series of slow, measured steps forward, pausing above Remus and lifting his left foot to press it down onto the prisoner's chest. Lucius waited until Remus's wide eyes met his own before pointing his wand down at the other man. He noticed a slight tremble in his own fingers as he held his pose.

"You are not being punished for telling the truth, dog," Lucius snarled, staring down at his prisoner. "You are being punished for suggesting that my wife would even dream of being unfaithful to me."

Remus held Lucius's gaze without blinking.

"To think we could ever give up on each other. After everything we've been through?" Lucius bent down further. "You're a useless halfbreed who's never truly felt love, Lupin. How could you? I bet even Tonks is frightened of you."

Remus felt Tonks's name like a blade twisting in his ribcage, and he was grateful for his face being frozen, rendering him unable to react to the jab. It was as if Lucius could smell blood in the water. A contemptuous smile peeled along his lips as he gazed down.

"I wonder if you've ever watched your lovers with anyone else. I imagine it's hard for you to enjoy sex, especially as the moon waxes. I wonder if you've ever lost control."

Remus blinked, a thousand responses flashing through his mind even as the pain of his fall began to register.

"Perhaps it's easier for you to just to be celibate," Lucius mused, glancing up at the dark, stone ceiling. "Safer, too, with a woman. Easier not to reproduce. Even you couldn't be so idiotic as to breed such a wriggling, wretched monstrosity, could you? And with a Metamorphmagus, of all creatures? Imagine ."

Remus felt a subtle, spinning nausea overtake him as he noticed the beginnings of a warm sensation around one of his elbows, undoubtedly blood starting to pool out of a fresh wound. He tried his best to swallow again. Lucius glanced down at him, considering.

"This isn't a sustainable solution, of course," he murmured, waving his wand in vague circles above his prisoner's body, "but it is nice to see you with your mouth shut, for once."

If Remus could've shivered, or struck out at Lucius, or even smiled, he would've. Instead, he tried to distract himself as pain began to cloud his vision. Lucius had barely seemed to have registered Remus's comment about Draco, but his relationship with Voldemort and Narcissa was clearly a charged subject. As violent as the consequences had been, some part of Remus was pleased with himself. He had guessed well.

"I think I might leave you like this, for a while," Lucius mused, lifting his foot off of Remus's chest and moving to place his wand back into his cane. Remus did his best to watch the movements without being able to move his head.

"It's a bit like tying a feral dog to a post, isn't it? I'd prefer not to have to resort to weakening you through desperation. It's not the most elegant of solutions. But perhaps that's where we'll have to begin, to wear you down. You seem so close to breaking already. Leaving you to pace with your thoughts clearly wasn't the trick, so perhaps a day of stillness will do you good."

Lucius's voice was shaking audibly as he spoke, but even that observation was not enough to dull the flicker of fear that was beginning to spark in Remus's gut. An entire day paralyzed on the floor. He had expected the pain, the isolation, the violence… but the boredom and the ache, he had not.

"I look forward to you being slightly more… amenable the next time I see you, Lupin."

Remus listened as Lucius turned and stepped out of his line of sight. He expected to hear him leave the room immediately, but instead he was met with the sound of shifting fabric, the whisper of an incantation, and the trickling of water; Lucius was refilling his water bowl. Remus's eyes widened. A moment passed, and then he heard Lucius sniff, pull the cell door open, and lock it behind him. His footsteps receded. All was still. Remus's heart raced.