gah! could this POSSIBLY have taken any longer? well, yes, i guess it could. but anyway, it took a long time and i'm sorry, and i can't put a nice happy long acknowledgments/thanks/plugs section in here because my modem is broken and i'd forget someone, and that would be perfectly horrible.
however, i CAN say thank you very very much to Cassie for beta-reading this; cassie is a wonderful writer, b-reader, and general human being and she deserves tons and tons of praise that i am altogether too stressed and tired to deliver. and...um...go read DS and DD and join the Paradigm of Uncertainty ML! yes! it's a cool place. we have wild mailing-list parties every night, get drunk on power, and dance around with lampshades on our heads singing about tiny chimney sweeps with absolutely enormous brooms.
*yawn* *collapse*
-rave
P.S. all of these troublesome characters belong to the almighty J.K.R. well, actually, anika and jill belong to me (kind of--read the dedication of PoA to see what I mean; i'm taking horrible liberties here...) but jill pisses me off so you can have her, and anika is starting to frighten me a bit so i'm starting to distance myself from her. "summertime" belongs to george "I am a freaking genius" gershwin. the yankees' souls belong to satan "i am the antichrist" the unholy.
P.P.S. review, my little kumquats! please!
Bryter Layter--Part Eight
The River
Anika coughed and waved her hand in front of her face, sending a cloud of the all-pervading cigarette smoke blossoming into the room. The Newt's Eye was a hangout for wizards from all walks of life; at the bar, two old men were comparing the sizes of their wands and roaring drunkenly at one another as, right next to them, a young woman with too much eye makeup, in a black, thin-strapped top and about fifty pounds of silver chain around her neck and hips was hungrily kissing a blissful-looking young man with blue hair and prominent fangs. Next to the amorous couple, a middle aged woman squalled irritably at her two toddlers, who were evidently trying to strangle one another with the paper napkin-holders--a difficult feat, certainly, but if anyone could accomplish it, these children could.
She cast a glance around the bar, searching for any sign of the people she'd come to meet. Every booth was full; she felt an idiot, walking by and peering at the diners, but there was no real alternative.
A familiar, rich peal of laughter cut through the thick smoke. Anika looked up, relieved, and made her way through the crush of people to a booth on the far side, where she could see the nod of a shaggy black head, the sheen of a warm broad back and leather jacket.
"Sirius," she called, feeling decidedly awkward, unable to see who else was in the booth with him; it was a big table, there must have been four or five others...He twisted about in his seat, and his eyes lit up at the sight of her. Bizarrely, she found herself noticing the way his black shirt fell under his breath, in waves like clouds under wind.
"Ani!" he cried cheerfully, beckoning to her. "Come on, don't be shy..."
She ventured forward into the circle of yellow light cast by the lamp over the booth, shyly draping a fat tendril of hair behind one ear. "Er, hello."
And then all of a sudden someone--she couldn't see who--was hugging her so tightly that her chest felt in danger of implosion and someone else was yelling gleefully over her head. The drink of the person embracing her bumped against her back; evidently the person hadn't even bothered to put it down, and now it was spilling a bit against her new robes.
"Okay," said Anika slightly more sharply. "Owch." And then she felt the brush of hair across her face, and caught a sparkle of copper out the corner of one eye--"Lily?!"
"Ani!" cried Lily breathlessly, yanking her old friend to arm's length and drinking her in with those tilted, thick-lashed emerald eyes. "Ani, you're Ophelia?!"
"Er," said Anika, remembering Remus's reaction--come to think of it, wasn't that Remus? sitting in the corner of the booth with a platinum-haired girl whose name Ani didn't know--"er, well, yes."
"Oh," said Lily expressively, and then, "oh, Ani, I've missed you so much--" and she was being hugged again, and over Lily's shoulder Anika could see James standing, a silly little half-smile on his face. She raised her eyebrows sardonically at him in greeting, and was pleased to see him do the same in return.
"You look different," said Lily at length, pulling away for the second time. "Grown into your bones, I see. Lovely."
"You look the same, except you've grown out your hair--looks really nice long." admitted Anika honestly. "I think the pretty ones don't change."
"Bull," said Lily playfully, "I already told you that you look different."
Someone stood, at the end of the table. Anika poked her head around Lily's and saw Remus, waving hesitantly at her. She waved back, feeling immensely stupid. "You don't have to wave, you know, we're only five feet away from each other--"
"I don't feel like yelling," Remus called back. "Too much drunken shouting."
"I like the drunken shouting," said Sirius mildly. "It makes me feel at home."
"That's not a good sign," said Anika, rather worriedly.
"I know," and Sirius shrugged and shook his head slightly, flicking his hair out of his dark, slanted eyes.
The platinum-haired girl stood up, looking at Anika with gentle, inquisitive brown eyes, and shot a sideways glance at Remus.
"Oh, right," said Remus hurriedly. "Ani, this is Jill Prewett...Jill, this is Anika Donelan. We went to school together."
"Hallo," said Jill, smiling and showing a set of perfectly even, straight, white teeth.
"Nice teeth," said Anika without thinking. Lily snickered.
"I'm sorry?" Jill leaned politely across the table, cupping one ear.
"Nice to meet you!" Anika said quickly, sweating slightly and trying to smile.
"You'll be the newest member, then?" asked Jill, folding her short-fingered, tanned little hands and sitting back down.
"Yes," said Anika for what felt like the twelfth time. "Yes, I'm a researcher. Specializing in curses."
"Oh!" Jill's smile became slightly less canned and more friendly. "So we're in the same department, then. I'm a translator, with Remus," and she cast an adoring glance at Remus.
"Aha," said Anika, rapidly running out of things to say. "Er."
Remus settled an arm around Jill's shoulders and smooshed a kiss against her left ear. Jill leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.
"Are they--very close?" whispered Anika to Sirius, scooting into a seat beside him.
Sirius shook his head almost imperceptibly. "No. But she keeps Remus from being too lonely, and he keeps her from being single. It's more a convenience than anything else, and I don't think it'll last."
"She seems nice enough," Anika whispered back.
"Well, that's because she is nice enough--enough being the key word. No better than enough." Sirius sounded almost grumpy. "What good is someone who's only enough?"
"Better than someone who isn't even enough."
Sirius shrugged moodily. "I don't know. I don't like her much, is all. She just likes to be able to say she's dating Remus because she doesn't like to be dating no one at all."
James cleared his throat loudly, thumping the table with his mug of butterbeer. Sirius fell silent. "Um. Lily and I have an announcement to make. We would have liked to make it with Peter around, but he's...er...gone missing somewhere, so. Er. We're...we're going to get married. In October. We've been planning it since January, and we were trying to keep it a secret, but...we...we couldn't, really. So there you are," he added with some asperity.
Sirius burst out into loud, whooping cheers and whipped his wand out of his sleeve, setting off an eruption of red-and-gold fireworks that ricocheted around the bar, knocking several of the tipsier patrons off their stools. Remus's face lit up and he let out a hoot of joy, applauding furiously; Jill looked politely happy and clapped, and Anika simply screamed and jumped up to hug both of them all over again.
"Oy, there!" yelled the bartender. "That's enough, you!"
"They're getting married!" shouted Sirius, losing his head completely. "They're finally getting married!"
"Good," said the bartender blankly.
"Good?! It's a fucking miracle is what it is, and I'll thank you not to ruin the moment!"
"There, now, Sirius," muttered Anika, stifling his yelps with one hand. "It's wonderful, but you could stop the fireworks."
"Never!" cried Sirius dramatically, and the falling sparks illuminated his handsome face from the top and winked over his eyes and cheeks.
Anika grinned, at Lily, at James, at Sirius, Remus, even Jill, and suddenly felt more accepted, more like she belonged than she had in what felt like forever.
*
They emerged into the sultry July night, spilling the light from inside the bar out onto the moon-spangled grass, and gathered in a circle just outside the Newt's Eye.
"It was wonderful to see you," Anika said shyly, fiddling with her cloak.
"Great to see you too, Ani," said Lily warmly, grasping one of Anika's hands in both of her own. Her skin was so smooth, thought Anika in disbelief; it was almost inhuman. "I'm so glad we'll be working together."
"Goodnight, Ani!" called James, who was already pulling his broomstick out of its rack in front of the door. He climbed onto it; Lily climbed on behind him, and a moment later they kicked off into the air, both waving furiously until they were out of sight. Anika waved back, eyes bright with starlight.
"Ani, how're you getting home?" asked Sirius, who was leaning casually against a tree, listening to the crickets.
"Thought I'd just walk..." She shrugged. It was something of a sting that she couldn't afford a broomstick, but she tried to conceal it: "I like walking. It's good exercise."
"Mind if I go with you part of the way?" he asked, dark eyes shadowed and enigmatic under the moon.
"Course not." She started down the path, Sirius close behind her. "If you really want to bother."
"I was going this way anyway." There was a brief flare of light from his direction; she cast a glance over at him and then--"Sirius! You're going to get cancer!"
"Tell me something I don't know," said Sirius carelessly and somewhat muffledly, holding the cigarette lightly between his lips and inhaling deeply. He raised a pale hand, pulling the cigarette away, and blew out a long puff of smoke. "At least it cheers me up. And don't you dare start preaching at me."
"You used to smell good," said Anika grumpily. "Now you smell like an ashtray. Congratulations. Feel better?"
He glared at her, taking a rebellious drag on the cigarette. "Like I don't get that enough from Moony."
Before he could react, she had snatched it from his hands and ground it under one boot heel, scowling. "Well, maybe he's right. He's your friend, he cares about your health, and as a mediwizard I just can't--"
He glowered at her in the moonlight. "You're not even a real mediwizard! You just call yourself 'Professor' so people will take you seriously!"
"That's not true!"
"You just told me it was an hour ago!"
"Well, I--I---I was just trying to be funny--" She went very red, and scowled at him furiously.
"Here I've only seen you for a day, and already you're interfering with one of the few things that actually bring me pleasure in life!"
"Well, maybe it's about time you found someone human to make you happy!" She was almost wishing that it wasn't so dark; she couldn't see his eyes, couldn't tell if he was angry or surprised, and at the same time was incredibly glad he couldn't see her going red. What a stupid thing to say!
He gaped at her.
"Are you leaving soon?" she asked rudely. "Off somewhere where you can smoke in peace?"
"Oh, sod off." He kicked at the road, sending a pebble spinning off into the mud, and looked away from her.
"Sorry, " she said suddenly, looking at the dirt road. The wind ruffled her hair. "I should butt out."
"Heh, butt," said Sirius tonelessly. "Cigarette...butt." Pause. "I appreciate the thought, though. Really. It's nice that you don't want me to die."
They had come to the end of the road; one branch led to Hogwarts, and the other to Sirius's apartment. His motorcycle leaned against the stile, reflecting the moonlight in its perfectly polished tire wells and chrome. He patted it gently. "I guess we split here."
"Yeah." She regarded the motorcycle admiringly. "Yours?"
"Mm-hm." He couldn't keep the pride out of his voice. "Just got her last year. Her name's Rae."
"Ex-girlfriend?" she asked acidly, hands on hips.
Sirius made a sweeping gesture with his hands. "My muse. My angel. My inspiration."
"'Rae' is a hooker name," said Anika bluntly. "Such a hooker name I have not heard since I was five years old and watching 'Bambi.'"
"Hookers can't be muses?" asked Sirius with great dignity. "The poet-hooker relationship is a long-established and respected one. Haven't you ever read any Cummings?"
"Maybe if her name was 'Persephone' or 'Xanthippe' or 'Juliet,' but come on...Rae?"
"Like I'm going to name my motorcycle 'Xanthippe,'" said Sirius in disgust. "G'wan home."
"See you, Sirius."
"Pity you will," said Sirius, poking his tongue out at her and straddling the motorcycle comfortably. She waved, and set off down the path towards Hogwarts as he blasted into the skies.
Anika held the mouse delicately, feeling the terrified beating of its tiny heart against her fingers as she raised the syringe to it. "Hush," she whispered, feeling strangely sympathetic as it kicked and squirmed futilely, "this isn't going to hurt. Hush."
She pushed the plunger. The mouse shuddered and went stiff; electric blue liquid--extracts of Dumbledore's blood, plus a few extra ingredients--crept into its veins, slowing the heartbeat, dulling the shining black eyes. She counted the beats against her thumb, and recorded them on the parchment next to her. Then she placed the mouse on the desk, where it crouched low, about to flee, and pointed her wand. "Imperio!"
The creature froze, transfixed.
Walk forward, she thought. Walk forward.
Nothing happened. The mouse did not move. Its eyes shifted, just slightly flickering. For a moment, a paw started forward--and then was snatched back.
Anika's heart leapt. Could it have worked? She leaned forward, her breath catching in her throat--Walk! Walk forward!
The mouse was still--and then, all of a sudden, there was a tiny crack and it collapsed on the desk, the heartbeat stopped.
"Damn!" said Anika aloud. She seized the rodent in one hand, prodded at it--it was quite dead. The effort to fight the Curse must have taken more strength than the tiny animal possessed--she'd given it too much of the serum, perhaps--and she felt an odd sort of guilt for its death.
She placed her hands on its soft belly, the velvet fur of the stomach caressing her fingers.
The soft, sweet note in the back of her mind...the siren call, as pure and seductive as the sea...
Flash.
Color after color after color, pictures blazing through her mind-- Grey-green-black-white-black-white, like lightning bolts, as though she was watching the life of the mouse through the windows of a fast-moving train. And then--
There was no color. All was in shades of misty, eye-clouding grey. The wind nipped at her hair, tossing it about her face, silent as the moon. In front of her, slow with frozen sleet, the river crawled sluggishly toward the west. She reached her hand into it, feeling the unbelievable cold over her fingertips, creeping up her wrists, spangling her arms, all the way to her shoulder--
Anika ripped her hand out of the water. The mouse lay in her palm, blue and nerveless, but it was beginning to melt into gory icicles, to slough through her fingers like sand...
Flash.
For a moment, the place between her fingertips and the mouse's fur glowed blue.
The mouse quivered under her fingers. The heartbeat revived.
Anika gasped and fell back, as the creature, eyes sparkling again, dodged under her desk and scampered through a crack in the wall.
The call sounded in the back of her head again, the low, lilting melody...
Ani, sweetheart...Ani....
Mother?! But she's...she's....
She looked down at her hands....they were frosted over, the fingertips white and sparkling with crystal icicles. And her eyelashes...hard and cold against her skin, as though they too were covered in ice....
Anika's knees buckled under her, too weak to hold her up any longer. The carpet prickled against her eyelids, the sharp pain in her head and chest nearly obliterating her vision.
Moony looked up from her spot on the windowsill, her usually vacant eyes glowing, alert and chillingly green.
Dumbledore...thought Anika dully. Dumbledore...I've got to tell...I've got to....
And then darkness.
Voldemort's head snapped up, his ruby eyes flashing. He had felt--just for the shortest moment--someone had reached the Greylands. Someone had disturbed the river; he had felt their fingers paddling as if in his own flesh, unnaturally warm and soft. He hissed through his teeth, biting down on his own tongue. Who could have touched Charon's moat without crossing it upon the instant?
The runes could tell him, he knew. And he was so close to them...so close to reaching Benvolio, the scholar who would know all the translations. Wormtail had already told him of Benvolio, told him where his office was, told him everything. Perhaps he would even make a raid tonight...but Benvolio had been awfully elusive in the past, and gods knew he was troublesome. Even if the Death Eaters could get past the wards--and the information Wormtail had given him would provide well enough for that--who knew how well the scholar could defend himself?
Even so he was less trouble than the other three--Romeo, Juliet and Mercutio. Those three...how many loyal Death Eaters had those three corrupted, seduced, killed? How many Mudbloods had they sheltered? How many times had they held the runes just out of reach, setting traps, making plans...when Wormtail, or Snape, learned their true identities...they would be the first to die.
But there would be a little time before they died.
A little time.
So much can happen in a little time, thought Voldemort, and he felt the cold breath of the Greylands again. He would send them there, and no mysterious meddling touch would pull them from the currents of the river when he was finished.
The river, he thought, there was a clue there. Peter had told him of a new recruit, a researcher...not a threat, he had thought. Ophelia. The small part of the Dark Lord that was still Tom Riddle remembered a play...Hamlet, it had been, and had Ophelia not drowned in a river near the end? Could it be merely coincidence? With Dumbledore, very little was coincidence.
He tapped his wand against his hand, thoughtfully, and stared with unseeing red eyes at the pristine marble wall of his chambers. Ophelia he would have to destroy...she was probably a simple necromancer, perhaps with a slight knowledge of the tricky currents of Charon's Ford, but nothing too unusual. Nonetheless...she could perhaps become an irritation.
Again he felt the burning touch against his skin, the touch of mortal flesh against the River, and shuddered. There would have to be extra safeguards put up, the gates better guarded. Simple necromancy or not...he would have to be careful until he had the Circle in his hands.
"Evan!"
A single shadow detached itself from its fellows in the corner of the room, gliding into the light. "My Lord."
"Do we have the means to raid Hogwarts tonight?"
"I had thought we would wait until Dumbledore..."
"Not attack, raid. Can those idiots in Espionage get through the wards yet?"
"Not to the inner sanctum, my Lord...perhaps only to the offices...would that be enough?"
"Yes...yes. Wormtail has given me enough information to reach one of their translators--known only as Benvolio. I want him tonight...we've delayed directly attacking a Circle wizard for long enough. Can you manage it?"
Rosier bowed smoothly. "It should not be inordinately taxing, Lord. Especially with Wormtail's help."
"He will help you," whispered Voldemort, smiling slightly. "He will certainly help you."
"It shall be done," said Rosier softly.
"Oh, and Rosier? Make sure someone dies before you leave. I want to leave them a little...calling card." And maybe catch myself a necromancer, he thought with faint satisfaction. "Make sure you get out right away after you kill them, though...the Old One can sense the death of any of his Circle." He felt the tiniest tingle of fear at the thought of Dumbledore, the only one who could ever match him, the only other...
"Yes, Lord." And then there was a small pop of imploding air and Rosier was gone.
Anika opened her eyes very suddenly, and the world blurred for a moment and then came back into focus. Moony was sitting on her head, meowing concernedly into her left ear.
"Gerrrof," mumbled Anika, trying to remember what had happened. There had been a mouse...she'd been injecting it with Serum A...something had happened. It had died, she recalled blearily. Why did she want to tell Dumbledore that? It wasn't important. It was only a mouse.
She shook herself and pushed up onto her elbows, dumping Moony unceremoniously onto the floor. Her head throbbed mercilessly, red-and-green lights flashing achingly just behind her eye sockets.
With one cold, shaking hand, she wiped a strand of wet hair out of her eyes, still shivering uncontrollably, as though she'd been dumped into the Hogwarts lake in February. What the hell had happened? She swallowed hard; her throat was sore, thick, the lymph nodes swollen and aching. A cough sent a wave of pain ripping through her lungs and throat, and she climbed blearily to her feet, the room swaying in dizzying swoops around her.
Supporting herself on the bedpost, she peered into the mirror that hung above her bed. The edges of it were fogged, like windows in December...but it was clearing...
The face that stared at Anika through the glass was hardly a face at all. A bare skull, nearly, though flesh dangled in grotesque strips from its contours, and eyes that were still greenish-grey stared, horror-struck, out of the dark sockets.
Anika screamed.
Lily had been heading down the Charms corridor, intending to surprise James with a lunch she'd packed, when she heard the scream. It was very faint, but certainly audible--coming from the West tower, it sounded like. What was in the West tower?
Ani's room, she realized, a thrill of panic coursing through her veins.
She dropped the sandwiches on the floor, her somewhat domestically-inclined mind giving a little moan of dismay as she did so, and raced down the corridor towards the staircase. Damn these Apparation wards, she thought furiously, taking the steps two at a time. Damn it, damn it, damn it.
The door of Anika's room came into view. Lily smashed her palm against it, feeling the odd tingle against her hand as the ward-magic scanned it, making sure she was an authorized Circle member...Hurry, hurry, she thought desperately. The sound of shattering glass echoed from inside the room--let me in let me in let me in goddamnit--
The door sprang open and Lily crashed inside, her wand flipped into her hand in a textbook defensive position.
She cast a quick glance around. At first sight, the room appeared to be empty, undisturbed--but Lily took in the weirdly frosted windowpanes, the pools of water on the otherwise spotless carpet. And then her glance moved upwards, to the wall. The large, silver mirror that hung just above the bed had been smashed, the tiny raindrops of glass sprinkling over the blue sheets of the bed.
"Oh smelt it," the mirror was mumbling in irritable, grandmotherly tones, "what a mess. Seven years bad luck at minimum, I should say, I mean I was just polished--"
"Shut up," snapped Lily, scanning the apartment. The mirror shut up. There--behind the bed--
Wand held cautiously out before her, she edged slightly forward. There was definitely an odd, lumpy shape behind the mattress...
"Wingardium leviosa," muttered Lily, pointing her wand at the shape. The sheets ruffled, as if under a brisk wind, and then the shape rose into the air. It was unmistakably Anika, her usual marble-angel paleness reduced to an unhealthy pallor, and one hand bleeding profusely, as though it had been smashed through glass.
Lily dropped the body onto the bed and rushed over to it, ripping the tangled robes from her friend's throat to facilitate breathing, and snatched Anika's wrist, checking for a pulse. There was one--very faint, but there--
And then the door burst open for a second time, and this time Sirius and James came exploding in, accompanied by a cloud of splinters that told her they'd tried to break in without waiting for ID confirmation.
"We heard screaming," panted James. "Took us forever to get past Peeves--"
"What happened?" snapped Sirius, catching sight of Lily. "Where's Ani?" His face bore a strange, alien mixture of utter fear and boiling rage, and it made Lily quail slightly inside.
"She's here." Lily stepped back, revealing Anika's prone form on the bed.
"She's not--she's not--" Sirius's voice was shaking slightly as he wobbled forward, towards the two of them.
"She's alive, but she's horribly cold and I don't know why, and it looks like she smashed that mirror over her bed for some reason. We should get her down to the hospital wing straight away."
"What about me?" whined the mirror.
"Shut up," said James and Sirius simultaneously.
"Yeah," added Lily, feeling inadequate.
Remus knew nothing about Anika's condition. He had cloistered himself in his office with over twenty sheets of possible translations, an illusion generator, and Jill Prewett, and was now having a rather romantic dinner--or as romantic as it could be, when every ten seconds he would have to lean over and scribble some new finding on his parchments.
"Stop it," said Jill earnestly, taking a bite of turkey. "Just for ten minutes, can't you stop it?"
"No," said Remus hungrily. "D'you think this looks like Nauthiz or Gebo?"
She leaned over the plates, surveying the illusion. "It's Nauthiz. Oh, Remus, for God's sake stop it. Just eat something."
"I am eating," said Remus, shoveling a forkful of beans into his mouth. "Look, see? Now, what about this one? I thought it was Ehwaz at first, but now I'm starting to think it looks like a really scratched-up Mannaz."
"Remus!" Jill waved an irritable wand at the illusion and the translations, which both flickered and vanished. "There. Now we can have a nice, civil, romantic dinner, without--"
And then the door flew open, splintering against the wall. Remus sprang to his feet, grabbing his wand, but whoever it was was too quick--there was a loud bang and he shot backwards, the wand flying out of his hands.
Only Circle members are able to open that door! he thought, his mind wiped blank with panic. What the bloody hell--
"Benvolio, I presume?" said a dark, cold voice, and a tall man was stepping through the twisted wreckage of the doorway, a black half-mask partially obscuring his face.
"Get out," snarled Remus, fighting his way to his feet. Jill, cowering at the desk, gave a little whimper.
"You can make this hard, if you want to," said the man, leaning comfortably against the broken doorjamb. Remus had the horrible, chilling feeling that, although the door was unbarred and unobscured, no one outside the room would be able to tell that anything strange was going on... "I don't think you want to."
"I'm not going to tell you anything," said Remus, more bravely than he felt.
"Oh?" The man sounded amused. "Will she?"
"Don't you dare try to hurt her!" Remus was on his feet in an instant, knowing he couldn't do anything to protect Jill, knowing...
"Don't worry," drawled the man, tapping his wand unconcernedly against his other hand. "I'd rather hurt you." He leveled his wand at Remus, even as--behind him--several more goons piled into the room. "Impedimentia."
Remus felt his arms and legs lock to his sides and he collapsed, stiff-limbed, to the ground, knocking his head painfully against the desk in his descent. Why wasn't Jill doing anything? Was she just going to sit there?
Ani, a treacherous part of his mind thought, would have dived for the wand and gone for all of them, guns blazing, by now. She might even have won.
"There," said the leader of the invading party, not changing his lazy stance at all. "Now we can talk civilly."
He smiled.
When the first of Remus's screams hit the invisible barrier outside his office, Peter Pettigrew cringed and crumpled against the wall, silent tears sliding down his cheeks. How had he sunk so low? How could he have betrayed Remus? His hands clenched and unclenched, remembering...
Are you going to help me again, Peter?
No! I'm not going to help you any more!
Aren't you?
Never!
Why not?
I...I'm not going to betray them! My friends...my comrades...
Ah, but you've already betrayed them, Peter...it's too late now...
It isn't!
Do you think they'll forgive you, Peter? Once they find out what you've done, do you think they'll just...let it go?
I--
They'll kill you, Peter.
No they won't!
You might as well help me. You've crossed the line, now. It's too late...you can't go back...
I--I--
Just as Voldemort had known he would, he'd given in. Again. He'd told the Dark Lord how to get past Dumbledore's wards, how to reach Remus's office. He'd opened the office door when the Death Eaters apparated in. And now they would torture him, torture Moony until he gave out the information they wanted.
Though he couldn't hear Remus's cries, he could imagine them well enough. He knew what the Cruciatus curse felt like...oh yes, he knew well what the Curse felt like.
Peter Pettigrew whimpered in anguish.
Oh God, Remus, I'm so sorry...
Sirius sat by Anika's bedside, listening to her fevered breathing and occasionally sponging the sweat off her forehead. Dumbledore had assigned him the task before apparating off somewhere, not telling anyone where he was going. He had a habit of doing that, Sirius thought irritably, pushing a spare strand of hair out of his friend's face. Of course Dumbledore had business of his own to attend to, but when one of his own wizards was in as bad shape as Ani was...
Her lips were twitching, her eyes convusively clenching shut, and she took deep, shuddering breaths. A small moan escaped her throat, and she kept shivering as though she were cold when in fact her skin burned under Sirius's touch.
Fever dream, he thought sympathetically, running his hand along her clammy hairline. Poor Ani.
In a sudden explosion of movement, Anika clutched at his arm, her eyes wide open and staring into the room, blank and terrified. Her breath came faster now, her chest thrashing furiously under her thin hospital nightgown, and he realized that she was beginning to cry.
"Hush," whispered Sirius softly, gathering her into his arms as she sobbed and shook against him like a child. "Hush, baby. It's all right."
And then he was just whispering into her ear, knowing she couldn't understand or hear but just wishing she could. "Ani, when I was a kid and I was sick, my mum used to sing to me...I know, it's the tritest, sappiest thing I've ever heard, and if you weren't out of your mind with fever and pain you'd slap me silly for suggesting it. But it always made me feel better."
He didn't sing much, and the cigarettes had made his voice huskier, darker, than it would otherwise have been...but Lydia Black, his mother, had once had a fine voice, and Sirius had inherited it, low and sweet and smoky.
Summertime, and the livin' is easy
Fish are jumpin', and the cotton is high
Well your daddy's rich, and your mama's good-lookin'
So hush, little baby, don't you cry.
He rocked her slowly back and forth as he sang, feeling like an absolute idiot but at the same time feeling oddly comforted, serene.
One of these mornings, you're gonna rise up singing
You're gonna spread your wings, oh and take to the sky
But till that morning, there's nothing can harm you
With mama and daddy standing by.
The man's boot heels clicked on the floor next to Remus's head. He could hear the footsteps, feel every vibration they sent racing into his skull. He was breathing heavily now, drawing in breath in ragged, painful sobs, and dimly, he could hear Jill sobbing "Stop, stop it...don't hurt him any more..."
"Who are you trying to protect, Benvolio?" asked the stranger in strangely gentle tones. "Your friends? What makes you think they'd protect you?"
"They would," said Remus, forcing the words through his burning throat. "No matter what, they would."
The man laughed, and grabbed Remus's chin, forcing Remus to look him full in the face. "Is that what you think? Do you want to know what they really think of you?"
And then he was falling, falling into the man's cold, pale-blue eyes, and he was being spun inside out and backwards and his head was spinning and--
He was standing in a room--all furnished in blue, it was, with stone walls and sun-flooded windows. It was the Ravenclaw girls' dormitory, he realized in surprise. What was he doing there?
As if some invisible wind had caught it, the curtains of the nearest bed drew back. Two people lay there, wound into a tight embrace. The girl's face was turned towards him--Ani?
He's an idiot if he thinks this can hurt me, thought Remus with bleak gratification. I'm over her.
And then the couple rolled over, and he saw who the man was.
Sirius.
But not a twenty-year-old Sirius--no, this Sirius was younger, unscarred, his face still smooth instead of speckled with the rough stubble he now wore. The two were passionately tangled in each other, kissing as though each kiss was breath and life...
They wouldn't, Remus thought desperately. He's bluffing. He's trying to get me to believe an illusion.
What about Remus? moaned Ani against Sirius's lips.
Who cares about him? Sirius flashed her that quick, breathtaking smile and stifled any other protests she might have with his body.
He'll be hurt.
So what? He's not worth your concern, Ani.
"I know it's a lie," said Remus aloud. "And this is the stupidest torture I've ever heard. You should go back to ripping my insides out if you want me to tell you where the runes are."
But still...he'd always wondered...Sirius and Ani always spent so much time together...could they ever have...
"They care about me."
Keep telling yourself that.
"They do!"
But he was looking into their eyes, and he realized that he'd seen them look at each other that way before...it wasn't just a dream, he'd seen them...
And then the room swirled away, and he was back in his own bruised, aching body, lying on the floor of his office.
"With that in mind," came his torturer's voice, unhurried and comfortable, "let's try this again. Where are the rune translations?"
"I'm not going to tell you," and he gritted his teeth against the inevitable. And then the pain hit him, and he was being ripped into shreds, he was burning, every inch of his body was being eaten alive--he tried not to scream, but he couldn't help it--the fire ripped into his throat and he was trying to throw up but there was nothing left in his stomach--
"No!" screamed someone.
Oh God, Jill, he thought wearily. Don't do anything stupid.
"I'll tell you where they are! I'll tell you...just stop hurting him..."
Panic hit him like a lightning bolt. "Jilly, don't!" He tried to scramble to his feet--"You can't, Jilly, you can't, stop it--"
One of the larger men stepped forward and kicked him, hard, in the stomach. Remus gasped, doubled over, and rolled onto his back, unable to speak.
She was trembling, sobbing into her hands. "The first verse...I have it..." She was mumbling something into the air, and then the precious parchments with their hard-earned translation was in her hands, and she was handing it to the tallest man, tears coursing down her cheeks. "And the second verse...the second verse..."
"No, Jilly, no..." His voice was almost a moan.
She stopped, about to sketch out the figures that would draw the runes to her. "I..."
"Hurry up, bitch!" barked the leader.
"Jill..."
And then she let her hands fall to her sides. The half-formed illusions faded away, and she stared up at them, for the first time seeming almost dignified. "No."
The leader flashed her a toothy smile. "Well. I see you've outgrown your cowardice."
She met his gaze fully, drawing herself up as though the sight of Remus's silent defiance gave her strength.
He shrugged. "Then you've also outlived your usefulness. Avada Kedavra."
A flash of poisonously green light--a vast whirling sound, as though some foul wind rushed through the chamber--
Jill collapsed, soundlessly, into a crumpled heap on the floor.
"Enter Ophelia," said the leader, the smile on his face not even twitching. "You'll let her know we stopped by, won't you, Benvolio? I'll be back for you, you can count on it."
And then they were gone, leaving Remus a broken heap on the flagstones even as the air whirled away and Dumbledore was suddenly there, a look of terrible anger mixed with terrible helplessness on his peaceful old face.
He was too late, thought Remus in grieving disbelief just before the pain became too much to bear. Dumbledore was too late.
The room fell away, and the last thing he saw was Jill's face, pale and slack against her white-blond hair.