One week later, Lily was at her sister's wedding reception, watching James Potter astonish the groomsmen by pulling a rabbit out of his top hat, at Vernon's request.
She was having a fabulous time, considering that the wedding was Petunia's, and that she would be sneaking into Walpurgis Abbey in a few hours. In fact, this was perhaps the nicest day she'd ever spent with her sister. During the ceremony, Petunia had been a vision in white, and even stuffy Vernon's eyes had watered when he turned around on the altar to see her for the first time. As much as Lily disliked them — both individually and as a couple — their exchange of vows had been utterly heartfelt. She'd nearly been moved.
Perhaps there really is somebody out there for everyone, she ruminated, swirling the champagne in her flute. Her eyes drifted back to James. He was wearing a Muggle suit, which he'd Transfigured from a set of dress robes, and he looked so good it was distracting. The suit accentuated the way his body tapered from broad shoulders to toned waist; she'd spent most of the ceremony trying to drink him in from the corner of her eye. If she'd known he looked like this under his robes, maybe it wouldn't have taken her seven years to fall for him.
He looks better than any of the groomsmen, she thought, draining the last bit of champagne in her flute. The groomsmen in question were chasing the rabbit across the dance floor, while James and Vernon looked on, amused.
"I like him," said Lily's mum, who was seated next to her. She nodded at James.
"So do I." Heat rose up Lily's neck, and she knew better than to think it was from the alcohol.
"When did you two start dating? He was 'just a friend' over the Christmas holidays, wasn't he?"
Lily smiled. "I think that was about the time we realised how stupid we were being."
Her mum reached for Lily's hand and squeezed. "Seeing you happy makes me happy."
"Tuney's happy, too. She looks radiant."
"Doesn't she?" They turned to look at Petunia, who was seated a short distance away, greeting a handful of her old classmates.
"If Vernon doesn't treat her right, I'll kill him," said Lily.
"If that happens, I give you full permission to bury him in the flower garden."
Lily laughed and rose from the table. "I'm getting another drink. Do you want one?" But her mum shook her head, gesturing to a glass that was still half full.
A few minutes later, Lily returned to her seat to find that James was already in it.
"…and there's nobody who can brew potions like her," he was saying animatedly to her mum. "I dunno how it's possible to be good at everything, but she manages it, even —"
Lily put a hand on his shoulder. "What are you two chatting about?"
"James was telling me what an incredible student you are," said her mum.
"Is he, now?" Lily raised her eyebrows. "Did he tell you about what a terrible student he is?"
"I'm not terrible!" said James. "Don't give your mum ideas."
"You never read the textbooks," said Lily, taking the chair beside him.
"That's because they haven't been updated since the seventeenth century. I got eight O.W.L.s, didn't I?"
Lily made a non-committal noise, and James' eyes bulged.
"I did get eight O.W.L.s! Tell your mum — she's gonna get the wrong impression —"
Lily winked. "James tries to be a bad student, but he's too smart to manage it," she said to her mum. "He could pass his N.E.W.T.s in his sleep. It's a bit unfair, really."
"I'm more impressed that he's won Vernon over," replied her mum. "That takes real skill."
James ran a hand through his hair, abashed. "Aw, Vern's alright. He likes my magic tricks, says he can't figure out how I manage them. D'you know, he thinks if I keep practising, I may have what it takes to become a professional magician…"
Lily's mum laughed along with James. Lily sipped her champagne, smiling. James was so good at making people feel at ease; her mum loved him already. She had no doubt he'd win over Petunia, too, in time.
The other guests began to cheer, and Lily turned to look. Petunia and Vernon had risen to cut the cake, a heinous, six-tiered monstrosity slathered in heavy white fondant. Petunia held the knife, and Vernon put his large hand over hers. Together, they cut the first slice, and the guests applauded.
"What sort of cake is that?" asked James, clapping loudly.
"It's a fruitcake," said Lily. "It's got dried fruits and sherry in it."
"Is that… is that good?"
"Depends on your definition," said Lily, and he laughed.
Fifteen minutes later, it was clear that the fruitcake was not to James' taste. He valiantly cleared his plate anyway, then grabbed Lily's champagne flute to wash it down.
"What did you think?" asked her mother shrewdly.
James swallowed thickly. "Oh, er — delicious. Are there seconds?"
Why was he doubling down? Boys. "You don't have to —" said Lily, but James was already helping himself to another slice of fruitcake.
"I like it," he said through an exaggerated bite.
"No, you don't. You're practically gagging."
"Maybe." He shovelled another forkful into his mouth. "But if I eat enough, I bet I'll learn to like it." He glanced at Lily's mum, who was watching Petunia feed Vernon a bite of cake. "We'll have to eat this, won't we?" he asked Lily, lowering his voice. "If we get married?"
Lily's stomach swooped, like she'd just missed a trick stair. "It is traditional."
"I'd better develop a taste for it, then. Since everyone will be watching me eat."
He spoke so confidently about their future that Lily could picture it. "We can always order a different kind of cake."
"I want this one."
"You are so stubborn."
"That's the cauldron calling the kettle black, you know."
Across the room, the band struck up a beat, and the lead singer began to croon a meandering tune. The first dance, thought Lily. Grief struck her like a hard blow to the chest; she suddenly missed her father terribly.
On the dance floor, Vernon was leading Petunia by the hand. A lump rose in Lily's throat as she watched them waltz together. Dad should have been here, she thought. He should be celebrating with us.
She glanced at her mum, who was swaying slowly to the beat. Her mum's eyes were glassy with tears, but she smiled at Lily and took her hand.
"I wish Dad —" began Lily.
Her mum stroked her hand. "He's here, love. Can't you feel him?"
Together, they watched Petunia twirl around the dance floor. She only had eyes for Vernon, her expression rapt. Petunia was a graceful dancer — she was graceful in most things — and though dancing was clearly not Vernon's strong suit, he managed to keep up.
When the song ended, Lily and her mum clapped loudest of all.
The band struck up a new, upbeat tune, and other couples began to filter onto the dance floor. "Our turn," Lily said to James.
He frowned and leaned forward to wipe a tear that was threatening to spill from her eye. "Are you sure? We don't have to if you don't feel like it."
"Please. Dancing will make me feel better."
"Then your wish is my command." He rose and helped her to her feet. "I'm a great dance partner, have I ever told you?"
Lily snorted in spite of herself. "Of course you are."
James steered her onto the dance floor, hand on the small of her back. "You miss your dad," he said matter-of-factly.
Her lips tightened. "I wish he could see how happy Tuney is. I wish he could have met Vernon."
James put his arms around her, holding her tightly. "Your mum is right. I'm sure your dad is here today. He's got to be so proud of both his daughters."
Lily pressed her cheek against James' chest. "Stop it. You really will make me cry."
"Sorry, sorry." He rested his chin on her head and they spun in a slow circle on the dance floor. They were out of rhythm with the lively tempo of the music, but she didn't care.
The song ended, and she stood on her toes to kiss him on the lips. "Thank you," she said as the band began to play another song. "I feel better. Are you ready to dance for real?"
"I was born ready." James spun her to face the same direction he was, then began to lead her through an odd sort of ballroom dance. The steps were slow and deliberate, and before long they were out of time with the music again.
Lily tried to move faster, but he didn't seem inclined to pick up the pace. After a moment, she said, "James?"
"Yes?"
"What sort of dance are we doing?"
"The schottische," he said promptly.
She burst into laughter, her tears forgotten. "I've never even heard of that!"
"No? It's a classic!"
"For wizards, maybe." She turned to face him and took his hands in hers. "Have you ever heard of something called disco?"
"'Disco is a popular modern genre of dance music. It evolved in the late sixties as an alternative to rock music, the dominant sound of the decade.'"
Lily grinned. "So you do read the Muggle Studies textbook."
"I peruse it now and again."
"This music is disco." She began to dance, showing him how to move like the other couples. "Do you know this song?"
"Er, no."
"Really? But it's so popular!"
James copied her movements; he honestly wasn't bad at it. "Am I doing this right?"
"Pretty good, for a wizard."
He smiled. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"You'll have to teach me the schottische at the Knight's Masquerade," she said, and he tripped over his own feet.
"The masquerade. Right." James ruffled his hair, looking suddenly worried. "Forgot about that for a minute."
"One thing at a time." Lily took his hands and coaxed him back into dancing with her.
"It is odd, though, isn't it?" he said, coming close so that nobody would overhear. "We're surrounded by Muggles now, but in a bit we'll be dancing with Death Eaters."
"Let's not talk about it," she said. "God knows we've gone over the plan enough this week. Let's just enjoy my sister's wedding."
He nodded and leaned forward, brushing his lips across her cheek. "You're a wise witch, Lily Evans."
They spent the next hour getting lost in the rhythm of the music and the movement of each other's bodies. By the time they paused for breath, James had learned the conga and the bunny hop, and could twist as well as any Muggle boy. Lily tried to memorise every moment: the exhilaration that filled her as they spun about the dance floor, the wide smile that wouldn't leave his face, his rough hands catching her, guiding her, letting go, then catching again.
She couldn't take her eyes off his grin. He was joy incarnate; she could have danced with him for the rest of her life.
I love you, thought Lily. The certainty filled her from her toes to the top of her head, warm like Butterbeer and just as intoxicating. She loved James when he was dancing, when he was laughing, when he was sleeping with his glasses askew. And she loved him all the moments in between. She was in love with him, and she always would be.
"Alright, Evans? You're staring."
She couldn't tell him now. Not when they were surrounded by other people, not in front of her own mum and sister. Instead, she said, "I'm mad about you." That was close enough to the three words she really meant.
His grin grew even broader, and he cupped her face, kissing her deeply. His lips were achingly tender, and she knew: he loved her, too. They were meant to be together the way the sun was meant to rise.
James drew back, pushing the hair off his sweaty brow. "Shall we sit for a minute?"
Lily glanced at her watch and groaned. Back to reality. "Can't. It's time to go."
"Already?"
"It's half past eight. The masquerade started thirty minutes ago."
They looked at each other, and she could tell he was thinking the same as her. Let's just stay a little longer. It had been such a wonderful evening; neither of them were ready to break the spell.
"We have to go," said Lily, because if she didn't, they would never leave. "The others are counting on us."
James shook his head a little, coming to his senses. "You're right. Of course. Let's go."
They kissed Lily's mum goodbye and bid Petunia and Vernon a happy honeymoon in France, then went out to the dark, quiet street. Lily sighed as James Untransfigured his suit into dress robes.
"Something the matter?" he asked.
"That suit fits you so well."
"So do these dress robes!" he said indignantly. "I even had them tailored!"
"James. You looked sexy in that suit."
His eyebrows jumped, and he pulled at the collar of his robes. "Did I?"
"Considering the way I was drooling over you all night, yes. Definitely yes."
His expression grew sly. "You were drooling over me?"
He looked like he was half a second away from snogging her, so she said, "Focus, Prongs."
The nickname had the intended effect. "You can't call me that!"
"Well, I just did. And it's a good thing you're wearing those robes to the masquerade. Less chance I'll get distracted that way."
"Are you saying these robes aren't sexy?"
"They're ridiculous."
"You wouldn't say that if you were a pure-blood," said James, wagging a finger at her. "I bet all the Death Eaters will be falling over themselves to dance with me."
Lily laughed. "I hope not. We're supposed to be under the Invisibility Cloak the entire time. Though I have some extra Polyjuice if that doesn't pan out." She reached into her red suede bag — it felt like sticking her hand into a black hole, thanks to the Undetectable Expansion Charm — and pulled out a tiny vial containing a single golden droplet. "Drink your Felix Felicis and let's get out of here."
James swallowed the potion obediently, and she did the same with an identical vial. At first, nothing happened; after a moment, a subtle feeling of confidence and well-being grew over her. "Huh," said Lily.
"What?"
It feels like falling in love, only weaker. "Nothing. I just thought taking Liquid Luck would feel… incredible. Out-of-this-world."
James examined his hands, considering what she'd said. "I see what you mean. It's nice, don't get me wrong, but…"
"Dancing with you was nicer."
He grinned. "Exactly."
She pulled a set of black dress robes out of her bag and hurriedly changed into them. "Have you got the Portkey?"
"Working on it." James withdrew a sticky-looking white block from his pocket.
It took Lily a moment to realise what she was looking at. "Did you knick a slice of fruitcake? To turn into a Portkey?"
"Clever, right? We can snack on it once we get there." James set the mess of cake on the pavement and tapped it with his wand. "Portus."
He looked up at her, his eyes like two large, dark pools in the dim light. Her stomach did a little flip. "I think I'm full, anyway," she said, crouching beside him. "Or maybe just nervous."
"Hey." He put a hand on the back of her neck and brought her close for a kiss. "Everything's going to be fine. We'll sneak in, meet up with the others, get the diadem, and sneak out. If things get hairy, I'll make us another Portkey and we'll get out of there."
"I'm sorry we can't Apparate. It would be so much eas—"
He silenced her with another kiss. "Portkeys are easy enough. This one took me five seconds. Besides, there's probably enchantments preventing direct Apparition into or out of the Abbey."
That was the same reason they were taking a Portkey to the village outside Walpurgis Abbey, then walking to the gates on foot. "Alright," said Lily. She still hated that she was holding him back from Apparating, but that guilt wouldn't help them during the heist. "Let's go, then."
James took her hand in his. "Ready? One… two… three —"
They touched the Portkey.
Lily jerked forward, as though something had hooked her by the navel, pulling her into space. No turning back now, she thought.
They vanished from the street without so much as a sound.
Three hundred miles away, Remus appeared on the outskirts of a sleepy Muggle village, clutching a large, black dog in one arm and a sandy rat in the other. Though the sun had barely set, it was already pitch dark, and the air was heavy with the threat of rain. A rumble from above told him there were storm clouds overhead.
"Go on," he said to Padfoot, pushing the dog off the gravel path and towards the tall brambles growing beside the lane. "I'll see you later."
The dog wagged its tail obediently and trotted off the road, disappearing into the woods.
Remus drew his wand and Disillusioned the rat. He placed Peter carefully into the pocket of his dress robes. "Second verse, same as the first. Ready, Wormtail?"
From his pocket came a small but determined squeak.
Remus began the long walk up the sloping gravel path, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Hopefully the rain would hold off until after James and Lily arrived at the abbey. They'd be sneaking in under the Invisibility Cloak, but their cover would be blown if they left a trail of muddy footprints behind them.
A faint crunching sound came from further up the path — boots treading on gravel. Remus quickened his pace.
Several yards ahead of him, a tall, muscular figure in black robes marched towards the castle. Remus strained his ears, listening for more footsteps, but there weren't any. He and the Death Eater were alone on the road.
Remus pulled out his mask, golden and shaped like the head of a wolf. No room for subtlety tonight, he thought. The mask adhered to his face without strings or ribbon, magically moulding to the contour of his cheekbones.
Remus quickened his step. The Death Eater turned at the sound of someone approaching; he was wearing a Venetian-style mask with a black teardrop beneath one eye.
Not a true Death Eater, then, or he'd have the carved silver mask they all wore. Anyone who willingly attended the masquerade was Death Eater enough, though.
"Here for the ball?" asked Remus.
The man nodded stiffly. "Do you know where you're going? I was told to look for the castle on the hill, but it's so damn dark, can't see a thing…"
"This way," said Remus smoothly. He touched his wand to the back of the man's neck. "Somnolus."
The man's eyelids drifted shut. He crumpled to the ground, deeply asleep.
A nearby bush rustled, and Padfoot bounded into the lane. The great black dog grabbed the man by his robes, dragging him into the woods.
Remus followed. Once they were well off the path, Padfoot positioned the man at the base of a tree. Remus knelt, withdrawing a rose-coloured potion from his pocket. He tilted the Death Eater's head back and poured the Draught of Living Death into the man's slack mouth.
By Remus' calculations, the man would wake up a week after the masquerade. Though depending on what sort of beasts roamed these woods, he might not wake at all.
Remus drew his wand and cut off a lock of the man's hair, then dropped it into a phial of thick, churning brown liquid. "Drink up, Padfoot."
The dog sat up, limbs elongating, until Sirius was at his side. "Cheers," he said, taking the Polyjuice Potion from Remus.
"Got any idea who this bloke is?" Remus removed the Death Eater's mask. The man was in his mid-fifties, with a broad face and thick eyebrows. He looked filthy rich and mean as hell.
"Might be a Bulstrode," said Sirius with a glance. "He's got the jaw." He downed the Polyjuice Potion in a single gulp and shuddered. "Horrible. Definitely a Bulstrode."
As Sirius' body began to enlarge, Remus busied himself with removing the man's robes. He fished around in the pockets until his fingers caught a smooth square of parchment.
He scanned the invitation. "You were right," he said to Sirius. "This is addressed to Heathcote Bulstrode."
"See?" Sirius had finished transforming; his voice was deeper, older, but still smug. "I know my pure-blood families."
Remus gave Sirius the invitation and the black teardrop mask, along with the man's hawthorn wand.
"Hawthorn," said Sirius scathingly as he donned the mask. "Fickle, weak wood. Where's my wand?"
"I've got it here," said Remus, handing it over. As a final precaution, he Conjured a set of ropes to bind Heathcote Bulstrode's hands and feet. Once finished, he and Sirius returned to the gravel path and continued the uphill march to Walpurgis Abbey.
When they reached the wrought iron fence surrounding the abbey, there was a small crowd waiting outside the basilisk-topped gate. All wore black dress robes and a variety of masks; Remus looked, but he didn't recognise anyone.
Not that I know many Death Eaters, anyway, he thought.
The guards at the gate examined each person's invitation individually; they glanced over Remus' and Sirius' invitations without a second look. At last, the guards waved their wands, and the stone basilisk shifted as the gate swung open.
Remus and Sirius stepped onto the grounds of Walpurgis Abbey. The expansive gardens had been transformed for the masquerade; floating candles shed warm light on fountains and well-trodden footpaths, and the perfectly-trimmed hedges were decked in fairy lights. Despite the threat of rain, there were dozens of guests milling about, chatting by the burbling fountains and touring the various maze-like gardens. Everybody was well-dressed, and most had a drink in hand. Most startlingly of all, they looked happy.
This must be the biggest social event of the year, thought Remus. No wonder the Death Eaters were gathering so much support; he'd never known evil could look so beautiful.
The front doors of the abbey were still guarded by two leashed Chimaeras, but the beasts looked sleepier than the last time Remus had seen them. Perhaps they had been sedated to prevent any unfortunate incidents with the guests.
Once again, the guards waited until a small crowd had gathered before pushing the massive doors open. As Remus passed through the narrow, high-ceilinged entrance hall, he was very glad to be wearing a mask; he couldn't keep his eyes from widening at the abbey's transformation.
The main hall had been turned into a ballroom: silver and gold drapes hung from the walls, and the marble floor's golden starbursts gleamed under his feet. The place was packed with guests, all in their finest robes; their masks and jewellery sparkled with light from the ornate chandeliers. It was a ball fit for a king.
Or a Lord, thought Remus with a glance at the balustrade on the first floor. Black-robed Death Eaters in silver masks loomed over the bannister, silent and watchful. Waiting.
There was a live orchestra at the far end of the hall, in front of the door that led to the basement. A violinist struck up a lively, classical melody, and people began to dance. The tune was familiar, but Remus didn't know the name of it.
Sirius would, though. Remus turned to ask him what song it was, but he was nowhere to be seen.
He's probably casing the place, like you should be doing, Remus chided himself. He wandered towards the marble staircase, keeping close to the wall, and pretended to admire the portraits in their heavy, gilded frames. Once he was close to the stairs, he stooped down, pretending to tie his shoe.
That was Peter's cue. Remus' pocket grew slightly lighter as the rat jumped out, invisible under the Disillusionment Charm, and scurried silently up the stairs.
Godspeed, Wormtail, thought Remus. A house-elf balancing a tray of drinks on its head tottered past, and he plucked a flute of champagne from the platter. He sipped it slowly, watching the dancing guests and running over the plan in his mind.
If all went well, Peter would go straight to the war room, check that it was empty, and wait for James and Lily to meet up with him. James would then call Sirius on the two-way mirror. That was the signal for Remus and Sirius to run interference, preventing anyone else from climbing the staircase, while the other Marauders nicked the diadem. On their way out, James, Lily, and Peter would sneak through the main hall — under the Invisibility Cloak, of course — and James would whisper 'mischief managed' to Sirius. Then they would all leave the same way they had entered: through the wrought iron gate, down to the village, and back to Hogwarts.
The champagne fizzed on Remus' tongue as he observed the party. So many women were wearing diamonds; the gems glittered on ears, wrists, and throats. So many men were flirting, laughing, carrying on. The atmosphere was intoxicating. For the first time, he understood how these pure-bloods could forget that all their wealth and happiness came at the expense of Muggles and Muggle-borns.
A tall, pale figure in the centre of the dance floor caught his eye. Sanguini's face was covered by a black mask, but there was no mistaking the vampire; he was waltzing with an ethereal blonde woman who could only have been a Veela.
If Sanguini was here, was Fenrir Greyback in attendance, as well? He'd invited Remus, after all. Remus craned his neck, but the long-haired, loose-limbed werewolf was nowhere to be seen in the crowd.
Remus did see Bellatrix Lestrange, though. She was standing by the staircase, wearing a porcelain doll mask that covered her entire face, with large holes for her eyes. Her black dress robes were lacy and intricate, giving no clues as to where she might be keeping the key to the vault. Suppose she didn't have it on her person? Then Sirius' plan would be for nothing.
We'll still get the diadem, though, thought Remus. He continued to watch Bellatrix; she was speaking to a dark-haired couple that might have been Sirius' parents. He'd only ever seen them a few times on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, but this couple was the right age, at least.
A broad-shouldered man in a mask with a black teardrop beneath one eye approached him. "You're not going to dance?"
It took Remus a moment to remember that this was Sirius in disguise. They'd agreed to act like strangers to one another, so Remus lifted a shoulder, feigning indifference to Sirius' presence. "I haven't got a dance partner, I'm afraid."
"Nor have I." There was an ironic twist to the man's lips that Remus knew well.
Remus took a sip of champagne and shook his head. "You're more than twice my age, if I had to guess, and you're a man. Dancing with you would be a scandal."
"Nothing wrong with a little scandal. And you're forgetting." The man — Sirius — reached out, running a finger along the edge of Remus' wolf mask. "We are anonymous tonight."
"You're very persuasive," said Remus as the band in the corner began to play a slow, stately tune. He allowed Sirius to guide him onto the dance floor, weaving between waltzing couples. Sirius put a broad hand against Remus' back and began to lead him through the dance.
"You're quite good at this," commented Remus as they turned in wide circles around the room.
"When you're as old as I am, you get plenty of practice," replied Sirius.
Remus had to fight to keep a straight face.
As they danced, Remus wished they weren't pretending to be strangers. He longed to close the inches of space between them and rest his head on Sirius' shoulder. Thankfully, none of the guests seemed to care that two men were waltzing together; they were too wrapped up in their own worlds, dancing and laughing and having sparkling conversations.
He dared to lean forward, whispering into Sirius' ear. "I saw Bellatrix. Your parents, too, I think."
The man's jaw tightened. When he spoke, his mouth barely moved. "Where?"
"By the staircase, on the left."
Sirius didn't respond, but his hand on Remus' back tensed, and they changed directions. "I saw Augustus Mulciber," he said at last.
"You're certain?"
"I couldn't forget that river troll if I tried. He was wearing a silver mask, peering over the bannister on the floor above. Then he vanished."
Remus mulled this over as they drew closer to the marble staircase. "He must have joined the Death Eaters after being expelled last year. I wonder why he isn't enjoying the masquerade with everyone else?"
"Maybe he's working. Standing guard, or something."
"Maybe."
They were mere feet away, now, from where Bellatrix stood with a small group of people. She was talking to a young man in a long-beaked bird mask while two hulking Death Eaters in silver masks looked on. The young man's curly brown hair was oddly familiar; through the slits in the bird mask, his green eyes flicked towards Remus, as if he knew Remus had been watching.
Bartemius Crouch Junior.
"Fuck," breathed Remus, but Sirius didn't hear. He had dropped his hand from Remus' lower back and was striding confidently towards Bellatrix.
Remus stood uselessly on the dance floor while Sirius bent low to brush his lips across Bellatrix's hand. He murmured a few words, too softly for Remus to hear, and Bellatrix's eyes sparkled with amusement. He led her onto the dance floor, her delicate hand resting atop his broad one; they floated past Remus as if he didn't exist.
"Need a new dance partner?" said a knowing voice in Remus' ear.
Bartemius. Crouch. Junior.
Remus closed his eyes briefly before responding. "I think I'm tired of dancing, thank you very much."
"Oh, don't be like that," said Crouch. "You looked just fine waltzing with that ancient fellow a moment ago."
Ancient? Heathcote Bulstrode hadn't even begun to grey yet. "I doubt you and I are compatible," said Remus.
"But we have so much to talk about," said Crouch, taking Remus smoothly by the waist.
Remus found he couldn't wiggle out of Crouch's grasp without making a scene, so he forced himself to go along as Crouch steered him to the dance floor. "You're mistaken, I'm afraid. I haven't got anything to say to you."
"Ah, but I have something to say to you." Crouch's smile was barely visible beneath the bird's beak mask; his tongue wet the corner of his lip. "I was right about you, wasn't I?"
Remus kept his tone indifferent. "Were you?"
"I knew you weren't human. Very nearly confirmed it, too, very nearly… if that Snape hadn't gotten in the way…"
Remus had no idea what Crouch was talking about, but he wasn't about to let on. "Yes, well, he does that."
Crouch let go of Remus' waist long enough to tap the wolf mask, right between Remus' eyebrows. "I've got your number now, though. Werewolf."
"A wolf-shaped mask hardly makes me a werewolf," said Remus lightly. Sirius and Bellatrix danced past them, robes swirling as he spun her and led her into a deep dip.
Crouch waved a hand. "That's alright. I don't need to prove it. Just needed to know enough to satisfy my curiosity."
"You find me more interesting than most," said Remus.
Crouch's tongue flicked out of his mouth again. "That's because most people don't look properly. I won't tell, by the way — rumour is I've got a shot at Head Boy, and I would hate to endanger my chances."
"Very pragmatic of you," said Remus. He felt like he needed a shower; he wanted to scrub at the places where Crouch had touched him.
The song they were waltzing to ended, and he was saved from another dance with Crouch by Bellatrix Lestrange, of all people. She curtsied to them, batting her eyelashes in a manner more enthralling than any spell. Crouch extended a hand to her dutifully, and she whisked him away, leaving Remus without a dance partner once again.
A hand landed on Remus' shoulder. "I've had enough of dancing," said Sirius in Heathcote's deep voice. His eyes shone with triumph; he must have successfully nicked Bellatrix's key to the vault. "Shall we find a place to rest? Somewhere private?"
"Let's." Remus slipped his wand out of his sleeve and pointed upwards. Fireworks shot into the air, sending a shower of silver and gold sparks raining onto the dance floor. Hundreds of heads turned, and applause filled the hall as people looked up, awed by the spectacle.
Remus and Sirius took advantage of the distraction, slipping behind the orchestra and pulling open the door to the basement. Somewhere deep in the abbey, a bell tolled as they descended the stairs.
Remus counted the chimes. "It's nine o'clock," he whispered. "James and Lily have probably arrived by now. He should be calling you on the mirror soon."
"We've got plenty of time," replied Sirius.
"Really? A handful of minutes is plenty of time to find the goblin, open the vault, and take what's inside?"
"Sure, if we're fast. Besides, James and the others won't mind if we're a few minutes late. Especially when we tell them what we've done."
Remus wasn't so certain, but it was too late to back out. "There's going be a guard at the bottom of the staircase," he reminded Sirius. "Stun him as soon as you have eyes on him…"
But there was nobody at the foot of the stairs. Four empty corridors stretched out in front of them; they were completely alone in the basement.
The hair on the back of Remus' neck prickled. Surely there should have been more security for the Knight's Masquerade, not less. "Well, the kitchens are this way," he said, gesturing to the left.
When they reached the door at the end of the corridor, he Transfigured a peephole and peered into the kitchens. Everything looked just as it had during the banquet; crowded rows of house-elves stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the factory-like kitchen, preparing food and drink for the masquerade above.
"D'you see the goblin from before?" asked Sirius. "The one who opened the vault with Bellatrix?"
Remus squinted. "I'm not sure. There's plenty of goblins, it's difficult to tell them apart…"
"We have to go inside," said Sirius. "Pretend we're there on my cousin's orders. Once the goblin comes with us, we'll…"
We'll get him to open the vault, finished Remus silently. That was the plan, but he wasn't certain what it would take for the goblin to agree. There were many morally dubious ways to compel the goblin, but neither he nor Sirius had wanted to hash those out in detail.
Holding his breath, Remus pushed the door to the kitchens open, and they stepped inside. He expected the assembly lines to grind to a halt — surely the house-elves would know they were intruders, surely they would sound the alarm — but the house-elves continued working without so much as a glance at the door.
Sirius crooked a finger at a nearby goblin, trying to get his attention, but the goblin marched away, scribbling on a clipboard. "Pardon me," said Sirius, but the goblin didn't turn. "Excuse me," he said a little louder. "I'm —"
"Need somethin', eh?" said a gruff voice to the right.
That didn't sound like any goblin Remus had ever heard. He turned; eight Death Eaters in silver masks were seated at a table in the corner, which hadn't been visible from the peephole. The table was littered with bottles of mead and playing cards.
Time to back away slowly. Remus raised his hands, palms facing out. "It appears we've gotten turned around —"
But Sirius had already drawn his wand. "Stupefy!"
"Sirius, no," cried Remus, but it was too late. The jet of red light hit one of the Death Eaters in the neck, and his head snapped to the side as he flew through the air. The Death Eater landed heavily on a nearby worktop, scattering the house-elves and knocking an avalanche of diced vegetables to the floor. Whatever magic made the assembly line work applied to the Death Eater, too; the man was pulled down the long worktop and into the gargantuan roasting oven at the end of the room.
The kitchen erupted into chaos as house-elves and goblins scrambled for safety. The remaining Death Eaters pulled out their wands. Sirius was already firing off hex after hex, but the Death Eaters deflected his spells readily.
Seven on two. Remus didn't like those odds. But it was either escape alive or die trying, so he raised his wand and charged forward, ready to join the fight.
A/N: Sorryyyy about the cliffhanger! Come yell at me about it on tumblr: dizzy- -bird (2 dashes, no space in between).
And Petunia and Vernon's first dance was to Let's Stay Together by Al Green, in case you were wondering :)
Next chapter will be up next Sunday. Thanks for reading! xx
