MILK MOON
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May 12th 1979
THE TRAIL
#178
Remus was free. His legs hadn't moved like this for months. His howl was long and was released into the night, carrying far and wide.
Above, the bloated ball of the moon smirked from its seat in the sky.
He ran and ran and ran. A hundred smells on the forest floor, but the one that caused him to stop was hauntingly familiar.
Mine. My Pack. My Alpha.
A small scratch at the base of a tree, rife with that scent of family, of belonging.
Sniffing at the ground, he found the trail (a few weeks old at this point and already fading) and followed it. He howled into the night.
An answering howl far ahead of him set his heart alight with joy.
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May 13th 1979
THE BLOODBATH
There was blood on his hands, running down his arms, matting his hair, staining his face like battle paint. Blood built in every crease in his skin, drying at the elbows and behind the knees and in the indent of his spine. The blood, thick and dark and still warm.
Laughter rang around the air as Remus pushed himself onto his knees. He raised a shaking hand to wipe the blood (so, so much of it) from his eyes, his nose, his mouth. He looked up to the clouds, where the moon hadn't yet sunk, hovering in the cold blue sky like it was waiting for the entertainment before it would finally leave. He could feel it tugging at his chest. The grass was slick with more blood beneath his knees and bare feet.
Blood. Oh, the blood. So, so much of it. Like a lake, a river, a swamp. He was drowning beneath it.
More barking laughter from the rest of the Pack. They gathered around him in a ring, taunting and jeering. He hadn't even managed to stand up after the transformation before they were at him again, as they had done as wolves, tearing and kicking and biting at every inch of flesh they could reach.
Traitor, they growled. Fucking tame wolf.
No, he had whimpered. No. Please no.
It had been hours, and he still lay in that same spot, naked and bathed in his own blood. He was too scared to be humiliated.
Familiar faces, laughing and laughing around him, everywhere, covering his vision. There was nothing but blood and faces and that ceaseless laughter. You were my friends, he wanted to say. Instead, he coughed a handful of blood and glared.
They kicked him to the floor again, and the cycle restarted.
Pain and blood and laughing faces and blood and pain and blood and blood and—
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May 15th 1979
THE MAP ROOM
They were back to the Map Room in the Auror Office, this time with Emmeline and her spellmaking books, Moody and his 'CONSTANT VIGILANCE!'s, Caradoc (who had returned the night before) with a throbbing shiner. Lily popped in every now and again with ideas, or updates, or cups of English Breakfast for James and Earl Grey for Sirius.
"You're a gem, Lil'," James said with a lazy smile on his face. "A cuppa tea ought to do the job."
Moody rolled his eye and kicked at Potter's chair leg. "Shut up, boy. Get on with the reports. Where are the wolf sightings?"
The hours dragged on.
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May 17th 1979
THE CAVE
Remus didn't know how long he'd sat there. He was in an antechamber of what seemed to be a gargantuan cave system, trapped behind a set of shining silver bars. After the torture had come rest—if something involving so much pain could be called that—and a silence which was almost relieving.
He should have known. Silence was never a good thing where the Pack were involved.
Greyback, inevitably, had come to visit.
He'd sat in front of Remus, staring through those bars, and he'd laughed. Remus had heard so much laughter these past few days.
He'd laughed, baring yellow fangs stained with blood, his lamp-like eyes glinting like reflections off a knife.
Fenrir Greyback had just laughed.
"See you, Lupin," he'd rasped at the end, and left.
Remus rested his head against a bloodied arm. He could still hear the jeers, still feel fingers ripping his skin, still see the carousel of old friends' faces above. He was still coated in blood.
He'd come back for them, hoping to be welcomed, to hear 'glad you're back, mate,' or 'we missed you, kid … where did you go?'. He thought at least Greyback would find him as useful as he had before. Now, his own Alpha thought he was a laughingstock. The entire Pack had contributed to his torture. Lisa was nowhere to be found, and he wondered whether he wanted to find her at all. The last time they had met, she had watched him be dragged off; the time before, she had walked out on him in shame.
And where was Doc? Where was the man who had taught him to live?
Remus, huddled against the stone walls of the cave, was utterly alone, and more afraid than he had ever been in his life.
.
Blakesley and Greyback and Cadd and shame beyond anything he could imagine.
Pain and helplessness and all he could do was lie there as they did unspeakable things to his body and his mind
Shame and tears and the cold, dark cell around him as his pride crashed and burned.
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May 19th 1979
HEADQUARTERS
A meeting at headquarters was only required for matters of Extreme Importance, meetings to which every Order member was expected to attempt to come. It was so top secret that Sirius had no idea where he was, only that it was a house of some sort, and an old one.
Dumbeldore called the room to silence.
"For nearly three months, we held a werewolf and member of Fenrir Greyback's pack captive. He released little information to us. In fact, I will admit we neither tried hard enough or cared enough. We received only a handful of forenames and some vague information on Greyback's victims. Some of you knew all of this. Some of you have met him, and those people will know that we were entirely too lenient. We treated him well and let him get away with things. We released security after he became calmer. This—all of this—was a mistake and I apologise for our leniency."
All across the table, Order members stared. Dumbledore looked … angry? scared?
Sirius noticed that the old man was very ready to say 'we' rather than 'I'.
"The werewolf escaped on the night of April seventeenth, over a month ago. By now, we can assume he has taken any information he has to Greyback."
Mutters from down the table.
"What information does it have?"
"Names, faces, addresses."
"And it can understand all of that?"
"A werewolf is not dumb, Mr Fenwick. This one in particular is very smart and very beautiful, and has already tricked us all."
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At the werewolf headquarters, Remus blinked awake.
"Rem … c'mon, Remus. Wake up!" A hushed voice was speaking to him, and hands shook his shoulders.
His head was weighed down with the knives that were stuffed inside his skull. His brain had become a ball of sludge. His body was nothing but a tangled bag of bones.
"Remus. Please, Remus."
The voice was familiar, but the name escaped him. "L…" he started.
"Don't speak. It'll be 'ard, 'cos this is gonna hurt like 'ell, but you need to stay silent, alright? Try to stand, will ya?"
Without question, his body obeyed the command, a pair of slight hands on his sides to aid him. His legs shook beneath him. His head spun.
"Lisa," he croaked.
"Shh."
"No, Lisa, I …" he nearly gave up then, because his throat burned like the fires of hell, and his legs were like two twigs trying to hold up a full tree, and his chest ached like nothing he'd ever felt before.
"C'mon, Remus. You're gonna be fine."
"Lisa … thank you."
"It's alright. Just shut up for once, will ya?" She gently moved him forwards, and his knees buckled as he tried to step with her.
"I'm sorry. On the roof … I'm so sorry."
"Shut up. I've already said—everything's alright. We're evens now. Just … no more talking. We need to be fast and silent."
One arm around her shoulders, leaning heavily on her, they managed to get out of the antechamber, at least.
"Shhhh," she reminded him when he let out a groan. "Please, shush."
"How … how're the cubs?"
She sighed and looked around nervously. "Fine."
"Even … even Jake?"
"Which one's Jake?"
"The new one."
"There's a lot of new ones. Now shut yer trap."
He shut his mouth tight.
They stumbled through corridors and caves, slowly and painfully, and soon enough Remus felt the sting of tears in his eyes. He swallowed down a sob and let them track down his face.
His bare feet bled a trail where they stepped. He prayed in the darkness it wouldn't be seen. Smell was another matter.
His ankles twisted under him.
"Nearly there, Rem," came an almost nonexistent hiss by his ear.
They staggered on.
After what seemed like years, they stood before an entranceway. Through it came the flickering copper light of a fire and the sound of … was that snoring? Remus hadn't even known it had been night.
"This is the time for silence, Remus," came the hiss again. "Alright?" Lisa propped him up better across her shoulders and they stepped into the central cave.
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Sirius shifted in his seat. "He's not an 'it' either. He's not an object."
Curious glances from the seats across from him.
Dumbeldore continued. "We must call for all members of the Order to track him now, before the situation becomes too dire. We must capture him back, or if necessary, take him out of the equation altogether."
Lily stood up with a scrape of the chair on the floor tiles. "Sirius is right. He's not an object. We have to think before we … before we go out and kill him. He's human too, you know."
Disbelieving snorts and snide comments filled the room before Moody's voice broke over all of them. "Shut up, the lot of yeh! The girl's right. He's a werewolf, but he's a decent sort too. You should'a heard him speak at the Ministry."
"Why was he at the Ministry?!"
"Wanted to talk to the DRCMC. Did a cracking good job of it too. Passionate, like."
"And you let him go? The risks of that!"
The grizzled Auror spoke again: "Like we've said, he spoke pretty. And like I said, he was a good lad. There was no point denying him a chance. Besides, a bored prisoner is one ready to escape. he was invested in it, you should've seen. Hours in that little office with stacks of paper he could barely read. Remus Lupin was a helluva lot more stubborn than the majority of you. And that's not a compliment for you sorry sods."
Eyerolls and sighs from the Order. Sirius felt a spark of hope seeing the support Moody had for Remus. And Lily did too, it seemed.
He wasn't alone. Wasn't alone in having fallen for the charm of the werewolf, with those sharp eyes of molten gold that gave the most intense stares. Someone else understood that 'werewolf' didn't mean 'evil-doer'. Someone else might help him find Remus again.
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Twenty feet away from the firepit and they seemed to be headed straight for it.
Remus's stumbling feet landed only inches from one snoring werewolf's head. His flailing arm nearly knocked a cup of water from its perch on a stone. The snores echoed slightly like the ticking before a bomb went off.
Fifteen feet.
Lisa's breaths were ragged from the strain of carrying her burden.
His body felt like beef the butcher had already minced. His eyes were drooping as he walked. His steps became more irrational. He raised his eyes to the ceiling, tears dripping down his cheeks, washing single lines through the blood.
Ten feet.
He stubbed his toe on a stray rock and whimpered in pain. Lisa suddenly stopped and stared at the nearest slumbering body. The sleeping woman had twitched. Remus looked down and saw the face of Lorraine Blakesley, her closed eyes flickering a little, her grey hair like a mane around her scarred face. He never wanted to see her eyes again. Not after that dreadful fight, or after the moon in the pillbox, or after the night before, when she had come into his cell and all but broken him.
She stopped twitching and settled back into sleep.
He nearly sobbed with relief, but closed his eyes instead. Just for a moment. There was no time for little victories.
Lisa dragged Remus further into the cave.
Five feet.
They were close to the fire now. It was only barely burning, just a pile of ash and glowing embers with a tongue of flame hovering weakly over a single charred piece of wood.
Three.
Pain shuddering through his legs, streaming through his veins, pumping all through his body.
Two. One.
Remus raised his eyebrows in questions they came to a stop, but Lisa shook her head. Struggling under his dead weight, she took him right beside the fire, grabbing a handful of green powder out of her pocket as she did so. Dropping it in and stepping into the flames, she looked at him, at his drooping eyelids and bloodied cheeks, then whispered, "Order of the Phoenix 'eadquarters," and prayed.
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The meeting was interrupted by a sudden violent flare of green fire in the hearth. Those closest to it stood, wands raised, staring at the two figures who had stepped out.
Sirius choked and leapt forwards at once.
"Moony," he breathed.
Remus was barely recognisable, wearing nothing but a layer of his own blood, his body butchered and beaten, his ribs showing through his skin, clear and white as the ivory keys on a grand piano. His eyes were closed.
The girl beside him stood tall, looking over the members of the Order. "'ere," she said. "I've got 'im back for yeh. Just … keep 'im, alright? Don't let 'im come back. They'll kill 'im next time."
Before anyone could stop her, she stepped back into the still-active floo and was whisked away.
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May 21st 1979
THE NIGHTMARE
Gasping. Crying. Snapping.
"Don't touch me!"
Fingers across his skin, prodding where it hurt, holding him still as he writhed.
"No! No! Get off me!"
Silver eyes fluttered above him like twin searchlights in the dark.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
Voices everywhere. People walked in and out. More hands on his ribs.
"Don't hurt me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!"
What were they saying? He didn't care. He didn't know. He was scared. He was so, so scared and his body felt nothing but pain and his eyes saw no-one but enemies and he heard nothing but threats.
"I'msorrysorrysorrysorry. I won't do it again. Don't hurt me. Alpha. Alpha, please."
The voices and the people and hands all over him and the blinding pain behind his eyes. He screamed once before he passed out.
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The next time he woke up, there were no hands and no voices and the pain had dulled.
"Remus?"
He shifted at the sound of his name. "Yes?" It was a raspy whisper, but his voice worked all the same.
"It's me. It's Sirius. You're … you're alright now. Can you open your eyes?"
He tried and found he could. "Do I want to? Is this … is this just a dream?"
"No, Moony. I'm here."
"Prove it."
There was silence for a moment and he panicked. Had Sirius left him? Alone again?
Then there was a spot of warmth on his lips and the pain melted away as Sirius kissed him.
Sirius pulled back (come back, come back, please come back) and brushed a hand against Remus's cheeks, where tears ran down to his chin. "Open your eyes," he whispered.
In the half-light of the room, Remus could see the grey outline of the door (escape escape escape) and the waning moon through the window. He was on his bed—the same, familiar bed with his borrowed books on the bedside table and his borrowed clothes on the floor. On the chair beside him was Sirius, whose pale face seemed to shine out of the black surroundings. The wizard smiled a watery smile and reached a hand out to rub at Remus's shoulder. "You're safe here," he whispered. "You're okay."
"I'm okay."
"Yes," Sirius breathed. "You're okay."
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May 22nd 1979
Remus woke with a warm weight next to him. He was entwined with Sirius, whose hair lay across his face as he slept, moving with every exhale. He could not at that moment even think about how wrong this was, only that this man was beautiful, and he felt beautiful himself.
The day broke through the window and sunlight traced patterns on the floor. It was warmer than it had been all year, the late-spring sunlight having finally arrived from behind the gloom of winter.
"Sirius," he whispered to himself. There was no-one to hear him but the man himself, whose chest still moved with the slow breaths if sleep. "I think I'm in love. It's stupid, really. I don't know what it's meant to feel like. But my heart has never burned like this. Like … like a bonfire in the rain. It … fizzles, Sirius, like it's just refusing to die." He reached out a hand and brushed a strand of mahogany hair away from Sirius's eyes. "It won't die, Sirius. Not until I do, at least."
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He slept again and woke again without Sirius beside him. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or not. Did he want to see the man right then?
He brushed a finger against the pulse at his neck. His heart gave away no answer.
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The body came in that afternoon. They called Remus down, and he hobbled on a pair of crutches to the front door, where Dumbeldore, Sirius and the Potters stood.
"What is it?" he asked, looking from each of their grim faces to the next.
Lily shifted her head to the doorway, and Remus, frustrated, opened it with his good arm.
In the centre of the patio was the body. Cornflour hair spread in a tangled mess around a face as pale as the moon. Lisa's body was twisted in all the wrong places, blood staining her t-shirt and bare legs.
Remus stumbled down the steps. On her chest was a note, clean and white and printed in Doc's steady hand.
Here lies a lesson in obedience.
She wasn't good like you were, little pup.
He choked, falling to his knees before her. He didn't look at the bruises on her legs. He didn't notice the blood on his hands from where he brushed her hair from her face.
"Lisa," he whispered. "Oh god, Lisa. I'm sorry."
He began to cry. The last few months had brought so many tears he wondered whether his eyes would ever be dry again.
She had always been so strong, but here her legs looked like matchsticks, her arms like the tiniest twigs on the end of a branch.
Her face had always been hard and full of emotion, but here it was like porcelain.
Even in her sleep, she had never been so still. Not like this.
Like a doll in the window of the toy shop, porcelain face and colourless skin and not a trace of life in her eyes.
Greyback had turned a girl made of iron into a corpse made of glass.
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Sirius woke with a start. A scream cut through the house, loud and clear to Sirius even from three floors above the source.
He sprinted down the stairs. His feet make a racket on the wooden floors. His hands slapped the bannisters as he flung himself down each flight.
He shuddered to a stop outside Remus's room, breathing hard into the silence.
"Sirius?" came the small voice from inside. "Is … is that you?"
He took another step forward. "Hey, Moony."
A snort from inside. "Moony?"
"Yeah," Sirius said. "I don't know why I said it. Sorry, I—"
"No!" A pause. "No, I … I like it. I was just shocked, is all. You said it before, didn't you? When we came out the fire."
He didn't know what to say. There was only silence from behind the door.
"Can I come in?"
"If you'd like," Remus murmured, almost too quiet for Sirius to hear.
He pushed himself inside and stopped in the doorway. Remus was curled at the head of his bed, tear tracks running down his cheeks, nestled amongst his scars and freckles like rivers through a forest. Behind him, through the half-open window, the crescent moon sat high in the sky.
"Sorry," the werewolf whispered. "I'm a mess."
Sirius sat down next to him, perched on the edge of the bed. "I suppose you're allowed to be. In situations like this, I mean."
"I guess so." He buried his curls in his knees. "I still feel … I don't know. Pathetic. Like … I don't belong here, but I'm different now. I never really fit in with the Pack, but now…" he sighed. "I can't go back. And as … as horrible as they are, as they were to me, they were family. I loved them—some of them. And now I don't know where I belong."
Without a word, Sirius swung his legs up onto the bed and wrapped his arms around Remus's shaking form, pressing his face into the golden curls at the top of his head. Remus sobbed once, muffling the sound in Sirius's shoulder, and Sirius felt the tears soak through his t-shirt as they sat there.
"She's dead, Sirius," he said, the words choked.
"I know."
"Will you stay?"
He turned his head, frowning in confusion. "What?"
"Will you … will you stay tonight? I … I don't know if I can…"
"Yeah," he pushed himself further under the duvet. "Yeah, of course."
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INTERLUDE
Lisa had been bitten when she was nine, and had been carried into the cave that served as the cubs' rooms that month. Her hair had fallen about her like a halo, Remus had thought.
It wasn't until the next day that she woke, and when she did she thrashed where she lay, refusing to let anyone touch her. Remus watched from the doorway.
"How old are you?" he asked once the room was clear, everyone else gone down to eat.
She glared at him. "Wossit to you?"
He shrugged. "Jus' tryin' to be friendly."
A moment of contemplation, in which she sat up, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. "I'm nine. Nearly ten."
"So am I," he said. "Nine, I mean. My birthday's in March. Dunno which day though. So I'm not ten for a while yet."
"My birthday's in one month, is wot my mum says." She sniffed. "I'm older than you."
"No you're not."
"You jus' said so yerself! Your birthday's in March. Mine's in August."
He scoffed, but was internally pleased to have someone new to talk to.
And so it was.
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May 24th 1979
THE OLDE SEADOG
"I'm ready to tell you some things now."
They'd looked at him—Moody with his mechanical eye whizzing up and down Remus's body, Dumbledore with his blue eyes fixed and sharper than ever. Sirius had stood behind Remus, still and quiet but so definitely there and Remus wasn't sure why he was so relieved at that.
"We'll talk over a drink, shall we?" Dumbledore had said after a moment of silence. "Why don't you come with me and we'll floo from the kitchen?"
The fire spat them out in a pub, well-kept but rather small, consisting of only five tables throughout the room. The woman at the bar nodded once to them and tilted her head towards a table in the corner, set a little apart from the others. "Mornin', Albus. What'll you be 'avin fer today?"
"Four butterbeers please, Madam Bigbury. And a bowl of chips. Extra ketchup."
"Sit yerselves down and I'll bring it over fer yeh."
Remus was sure West Country accents had never been so strong as Madam Bigbury's. She sounded—and looked—like the stereotypical gal to own a Cornish smuggling inn. It was just like Dumbledore to frequent place like this, he thought, looking around at the paintings of ships battered by storms that hung on every wall. An old anchor hung behind the bar, rusted and as wide as a man's armspan.
The pub, apart from them, was empty.
They sat, Remus perched awkwardly on the edge of his seat, ready to fly if need be. He'd been to pubs before, of course; Greyback like nothing more than a good pint, but Remus felt strangely vulnerable among the wizards, aware that he was still weak.
"Remus," Dumbeldore started, looking him in the eye. "You'll need to tell us of some of the things that happened earlier this month."
"Yes," he said. "I know. Just … let me say that part as I want to."
"Go on then, Mr Lupin."
"I'd rather you asked questions first, Dumbledore. I don't know how to start. I don't know what you need to know."
Their drinks were delivered just then, four pints of butterbeer and four little tumblers of firewhiskey. The latter was delivered with a smirk and a wink. "No charge for that, Albus. Compliments of the chef. You know she's had her eye on you since you was a young'un."
"Thank you, Madam Bigbury."
"The chips'll come in a minute."
"Perfect."
They waited until she was back behind the bar and out of earshot before Moody spoke up.
"The girl. Who was she?"
Remus winced. "Lisa. My … my only friend, I reckon."
"A werewolf?"
"Yes."
"And the letter?"
He hesitated. "Greyback is … he's obsessed with loyalty. Obedience. She … well, she rescued me, didn't she? So he killed her. That's how it works."
"He didn't just kill her."
"No." He looked into his glass, taking a sip of froth from the top. "It's something he does to … to everyone, really. A way to assert his control. Only the very highest in the hierarchy escape it."
"You?"
"Oh, yes," he spat bitterly. "There were a few months he used to fuck me nearly every night. But … yes. Years and years of it. He doesn't let you move or speak or … anything, really. You just lie there, and he mocks you as he does it, and when he draws blood he'll lap it up, or make you do it yourself, always grinning. It's … it's foul."
The table was silent.
"And then he treats you all nice, calls you Little Pup, or whatever, but then slaps you if you step out of line. He'll do it twice in one night, sometimes, and you don't even have to pretend it doesn't hurt because that how he likes it. He wants you to … to scream, to cry. He gets off from it, I think. Pain. In children, especially. And me. There's … there's something about me. He kept calling me back when there were all the other options. I was so scared, as a kid. Now it's just … normal. Or I'm numb to it, or something. It's still awful, but that's the way it is. I barely struggled by the end."
Silence, three faces—Dumbledore, Moody and Sirius—held nothing but shock and anger.
Finally: "The bastard," Sirius whispered. "That fucking bastard."
"We'll move on, shall we?" Remus murmured very quietly.
"Quite," said Dumbledore. "I'm sorry you had to go through that, Mr Lupin. It's … awful. Just awful."
Moody cleared his throat. "Was there ever any talk of Voldemort?"
"Who?"
"Uh, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? You-Know-Who? The Dark Lord?"
"Oh. Yeah, the Dark Lord. Lots. They'd … what's the word? … kind of preach about it. Like he was some god or something. Revolutionising wizarding society and bringing power to Dark creatures and all that. I never listened, really. Sounded phony to me."
"Did you ever get the impression that he was in contact with Greyback or the Pack in any way?"
"I don't know. We don't know any of the Alpha's business, really. Don't know nothing about any wizard contacts."
Moody frowned, rapping the table lightly with his knuckles. "Any wizards about the place, at your camp, or whatever?"
"No. I'd know for sure."
"How?"
"The smell."
"Ah."
Moody looked up and gave a tight smile to the landlady, who brought over two baskets of chips and a bottle of ketchup. "'ere yeh are. I'll be in the back if yeh need me."
"Thanks," said Sirius, his voice quiet, as if he was smaller when seated with two more powerful wizards. He was still looking at Remus.
They waited a moment for Madam Bigbury to bustle off before resuming.
"Alright, different matter. What were you saying about the things you've heard recently—a secret party, or something?"
"Oh yeah." Sirius sat forwards in his seat. "Anything about a meeting, quite soon? Think it was April."
"I … honestly I can't think. Um, April. No meetings, I think."
"Alright, but … anything? Happening in May with Voldemort's followers. I think…"
"What?" Moody snapped.
"In … it must have been January? Well, I told you about what I heard … Bellatrix and Travers, right? Talking about meeting with Greyback and his werewolves in April … well, what if they're the same thing? It's a little far-fetched, but a Death Eater movement, especially with force like Greyback's, is important. We can't let our information go to waste. Remus?"
"Well," he said. "There was something. It's … it's hard to remember. I don't know if I want to remember. It was only last week. When I was … there."
"What was it?"
"I can only remember snippets. It might not be important."
"Tell us, Lupin. C'mon, boy," Moody snapped.
"Can you … I dunno, take it out?" He gestured vaguely towards his head. "I don't want to … I'm sorry. I don't want to think about it hard enough to say it out loud. It's too fresh. Too recent. Too bloody painful."
Dumbledore looked down at his hands. "Of course, Mr Lupin. I could summon my pensieve if you'd prefer to do it that way. Do not feel pressured to reveal anything but the information itself, Remus. I don't want to hurt you."
Sirius thought of his speech at the meeting. How he regretted not pushing 'the werewolf' for more information. How he claimed 'we' failed, not 'I'. He wondered whether it was a change of heart, or if either the meeting or the present conversation was just a lie.
"Yes," Remus said. "How do I…?"
"I'll explain when we have the pensieve. It should take a minute. We're in Cornwall, and we don't want it to spill as it travels from Scotland."
They waited in silence, Remus staring into the bottom of his empty butterbeer glass. He chewed on a chip idly.
"As we wait?" Sirius asked out of the blue, holding one of the firewhiskey tumblers up in a mock toast.
Even Dumbledore threw back the glass, grimacing as it went down. The whiskey burned down Remus's throat and spread a warm feeling blossoming in his chest.
Moody smacked his lips. "Ah, a good whiskey, that. That's proper alcohol, lad," he said, looking at Sirius, "Not the cheap bottles you snuck into school."
Sirius laughed. "Never the cheap stuff, Moody. Between James and I we had a little fortune for whatever we liked at school." He glanced at Dumbledore, "Never on school grounds, of course. And obviously we weren't underage."
The old man winked. "And never once did I have the odd drink in the back of my office. Never."
They soon fell back into silence, but the warm glow of alcohol stopped it from being an awkward one.
Before long, the pensieve flew through the window in a smooth motion, settling in front of Dumbledore like a bird might to its nest. It was a stone basin filled with what could be liquid platinum, or unicorn's tears. The fluid flowed around the edges as the bowl came to a halt.
Everyone leaned forwards, mesmerised by the enchanting colours in the depths of the metallic-seeming water.
"Sirius," Albus said quietly. "Could you give Remus your wand?"
"Mine?"
"Yes. I think it would work best."
The tension was palpable. He handed over his wand with teeth clenched and eyes locked desperately onto Remus's. A wand, of all things, should not be easily given away. It felt wrong to Sirius that someone else would be using it; it was his; it was part of him.
Remus held onto it like it held a disease, letting onto his thumb and forefinger touch it. He held it away from him. A bomb about to explode. A gun that shoots at random moments.
"Now hold it to your temple, and think. Think of the moment. You don't have to imagine it. Just feel it. Find something about the moment in common with here, or that you can recreate, and pull. Just pull it straight out."
He tried to think. "Have you got … have you got anything silver?"
Moody frowned. "Why?"
"Something I can recreate."
The Auror frowned. "It'll hurt."
"That's the point." He met Moody's eyes with a dead stare of his own.
Dumbledore, at long last, undid a pin from the lapel of his robes. "This should do," he said.
Remus touched the pin, feeling the sting on his palm, imagining it covering his hands. The burn wrapped up his wrists as he focused, and soon enough his hands were clutching onto a set of silver bars. He closed his eyes and the cave rose around him, bloodstained rock beneath his feet. He didn't replay the scene, but thought of the feelings, of the voices, and gathered it together, coaxing it slowly out of his mind as he pulled with Sirius's wand. As he opened his eyes, a string of effervescent memory drifted after the wand. Without having to be told, he dropped it into the rippling mirror-like water.
He breathed out. "There."
"You can do magic, then," Sirius stated.
"What?"
"You can do magic."
Remus made a face, dropping the wand onto the table and pushing it back towards its master.
Dumbledore peered into the bowl. "We'll be back in a moment, Remus. He looked at Moody, then at Sirius and plunged his head into the bowl.
The bowl was large enough for all three men to see the memory, and Remus sat watching them as their bodies slumped around the shimmering pool.
.
Remus had his hands on the bars, and Sirius could see the silver burning his skin. He winced, but kept his hands as they were, shaking the bars, checking for weaknesses, for a way out.
Echoing voices from down a tunnel as they approached the little antechamber.
Fenrir Greyback's ugly mush appeared at the bars, swimming from seemingly nowhere. The memory, it seemed, was twisted. The corners of Sirius's vision were warped. "Hello Little Pup," he jeered.
A woman with long grey hair materialised next to him. "Not so strong now are we, boy? Little tame wolf."
The name Lorraine Blakesley came up in Sirius's mind.
There was nothing but fuzz for a moment, like static on the television screen.
When it cleared, Sirius looked away because they were suddenly standing over Remus, and their leers gave their intentions away.
As he stared fixedly at the wall, he could hear Remus's muffled screams and their laughing, laughing, laughing, yapping like hounds from the deepest pits of hell.
Then it was over, and there was nothing but raspy breathing and still leftover giggles from the old woman. A snarl from Greyback.
They walk out, and as they do so, their voices carry to Sirius's ears.
"Yeah, on the 10th. It's a Full, so we'll arrive at noon. Ensure the job's done before we transform. What's his name? Bel- something? We need 'im dead before he releases that damned thing to the public."
"Why's it so bad?"
"What do you mean, gal? It's utter shit! It means they can restrict us and blame us for every fucking crime. No more getting away easy. It means we won't be free anymore. Imagine it, Blakesley. Every wolf would be a tame one. Our very wildness shut down. They want to suppress the wolf."
Remus's breath came in short gasps. The footsteps faded around the corner.
.
Their heads resurfaced without a splash, eyes deep wells of understanding.
.
.
June 7th 1979
THE ARMOURY
The days leading up to the full moon was a flurry of reams of paperwork and floo calls to allies and inquiries in the Ministry archives.
'Bel- something' was all they had to go off. At this Bel-'s house, the attack would take place. The Dark Lord and all his Death Eaters would be there along with a pack of hungry werewolves. The day loomed closer and closer.
"Bel-," Moody muttered under his breath. "Some ruddy invention that's ruining a werewolf's freedom? Has he found the cure?"
"Shut up, you old codger!" Sirius groaned. "Some of us are trying to sleep!"
"Watch what you're callin' me, Black!" Moody barked back into the dark, successfully waking the rest of the room. " And I don't care an inch about yer beauty sleep, you cheeky bastard. Go shack up with Emmeline if you're that bothered."
"Emmeline hates me, Moody. Bloody hell, everyone hates me, don't they?"
Someone groaned at Sirius's left. "Shuddup, Black."
He huffed, adding in an eye roll that no-one could see—though who knew how well that eye of Moody's worked?
Twas the night before the full moon and they were sleeping at the Potter's for the night, only to find the entire Order couldn't fit into the house, so the ladies had been quick to pick rooms, leaving half the men squeezed into the living room. Sirius had no way to subtly sneak into Remus's room without Moody seeing him. It was as if the old Auror never slept.
Sighing, he rolled back over and knotted his fingers into the carpet, wishing for a body beside him, golden skin and silver scars.
.
June 8th 1979
"Belby!" He gaped, muttering to himself. "Bloody hell. How could I forget that?"
He spun on the spot and was in the Ministry in an instant, apparating straight into the Atrium, then sprinting into the elevator and pressing the button again and again and again.
"Department of Mysteries," the voice in the elevator announced.
He was in, running through the maze of rooms until somehow he was in that boring little office. "Where's the boss?" he demanded. "I'm an Auror. Bring me the boss!"
And then the boss walked in, the same man from last time, and: "Belby. What's Belby working on? I need to see your paperwork. He's a potioneer here."
.
"Dumbledore, it's a potion. Belby is a potioneer with the Department of Mysteries."
The wizened headmaster looked up as Sirius made his declaration. "Ah. Brilliant work, Sirius. Tell me everything."
He sat across from Dumbledore at the desk. "He's made this potion. Going to release it as soon as it's properly tested, but they're pretty sure it works. It allows the werewolf to keep its conscious human mind when transformed."
"Fascinating."
"But why would they want that destroyed? Surely that's good for them?"
"Remember what Greyback said in Remus's memory? He was talking about their freedom, about the mind of the Wolf. They don't want that taken away. They view it as a gift."
"So they're going to kill him."
Dumbledore stood to his full height and summoned a piece of paper from across the room. He brandished a quill. "They can try."
.
June 10th 1979
On the day of the Full, the Order met in the dining room. Emmeline was explaining new handy spells, and Benjy Fenwick hobbling around with his famous crate of dangerous potions, distributing the phials of who-knows-what.
Dumbledore stood, silent, at the head of the table.
"It is time," he said, and the room fell into silence. Everyone looked up.
"Now?"
"I guess they will already have arrived. We must make haste. We are going to the house of Damocles Belby"
.
The wolves sat among the trees.
Greyback ran his tongue over his teeth.
Cadd sharpened his claws with a knife.
Blakesley sat and watched the horizon where the moon would rise.
The cubs, small and quiet and unsure, huddled at the back. They'd been told they had to fight. They'd been told it would be for freedom, for their future. Jake, the little boy bitten only months ago, shivered.
The wolves waited. The Death Eaters would be here soon. The moon would rise. And then they'd have their blood. Then no-one could stand between them and their freedom.
.
THE PRELUDE
As they disapparated, Sirius felt strong hand latch onto his arm. They materialised in a field, thick woodland on every side and a house in the centre.
The house was small, the light off barring a single flickering glow from one of the upper windows.
Damocles Belby, the man in the house, had no idea what awaited him. Had no idea what his own invention had brought upon hm. It had brought the wolves to his door.
Sirius turned to see Remus standing at his side.
"What're you doing here?"
"I'm going to fight," he said.
"No," Sirius growled, sounding more like a wolf at that moment than Remus did. "You are not."
"You can't stop me, wizard."
The word was hissed with such hatred that Sirius nearly took a step back. Instead, he just grew incredibly scared. His heart seemed to shrivel. He suddenly realised that he did not want Remus Lupin to die. He wanted to tell him that. To say I love you. Because he didn't know why and didn't know how, but he had fallen for the werewolf. He had fallen hard and then, speaking to him like that, it hurt.
I love you, his brain screamed. His mouth just said, very coldly:
"Oh, I can, wolf."
Remus snarled. "Don't think you can control me. I will kill Greyback. I'll kill him. After what he's done. To me. To Lisa. That murderous bastard. I'll kill him. I'll kill him and I'll enjoy it. You fucking watch me." And the look in his eyes—like a raging fire, spitting sparks into the evening air. And the way his hair was brushed a little in the wind, whipping like in the movies. And the way his legs shook, just then, and Sirius didn't know why until seconds later.
Because behind them, like the pupil of a distant giant, rose the Full Moon.