Disclaimer: Draco Malfoy, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Ginny Weasley, etc. are property of J.K. Rowling. This is an unauthorized fiction. I am not receiving money for this fiction. Some things mentioned (Department of Mysteries, Unspeakables, etc.) are part of a Harry Potter fanon not created by me. Unfortunately, I'm not sure where this stuff actually originated, so I can't accord credit... Just rest assured that it wasn't my feverish brain that came up with it!
ABASEMENT
"Could you hand me that? Thanks. Sure you don't want one?"
"Nah. Never have an appetite before the full moon."
"When Chocolate Frogs are in question, how can one not have an appetite?"
"If I bite a Chocolate Frog in werewolf form, will it turn into a were-frog?"
"Wow. That was bitter."
"Yeah. I changed my mind – give me one of those, will you? Thanks."
"Relax, Moony. Remember, this is everyone's night off. Good idea, actually, giving the staff the afternoon free. The tension was really getting too much. Plus now every body in the place adores you, since you suggested it, you wily coyote."
"Yeah, except the back-up security."
"Heh. Poor suckers."
"With talk like that, it's surprising you don't have a mutiny on your hands. Luckily you're too smart to go around calling me a sucker."
"Well, yes, I am rather a genius, aren't I?... You're not still miffed at me, are you?"
"Who, me? I know it wasn't your fault. I presume Moody's on the job tonight, too?"
"Naturally. He wouldn't take an evening off if you imperio-ed him to do it."
"I guess not."
"Don't look so depressed! Maybe he'll dig up something."
"If by 'something' you mean 'Malfoy's internal organs' and by 'dig' you mean 'rip to shreds,' then yes, he might. Sirius, don't you ever feel like..."
"Like what?"
"Like we're losing ourselves in this fight. Like we can't see the forest for the trees. Like we're all stuck in a trap together, and the harder we struggle the tighter we end up being held. I mean, I think about what's going on in that room right now and, and... I just don't believe it! It's impossible! Is this what we've come to? Torturing the helpless in the name of righteousness?"
"No. That's not how it is. There isn't a witch or wizard in the Department who enjoys this. And yes, maybe we are losing some of our ideals. But the alternative is losing everything. EVERYTHING, Remus! We're the first line of defence, remember. Whatever we do here, sacrificing our bodies, sacrificing our souls even, we do it to protect those innocents who rely on us. Don't forget, I know what horror means. Can you imagine Voldemort winning, setting his Deatheaters and Dementors loose on the world? I'd do anything to stop that, to protect Harry from that, even if it means destroying and abasing myself in the process."
"So that's the bottom line then... we can condone any action if it protects the innocent."
"Yes."
"Any action at all."
"Yes."
"Alright. Maybe I even agree with you. Now if you don't mind, I believe I'll withdraw..."
"Oh, right... almost forgot... are you going to finish that Chocolate Frog?"
"Here, have it."
"Thanks. You drank the Wolfsbane, I presume?"
"Naturally! See the bottle?"
"Alright. Have a good night then."
"Don't I always?"
************************************************************************************
Blinding flashes of pain thudded through Draco's head like red-hot pistons. Scalding needles were piercing his skin. His blood turned to liquid fire, his muscles to shuddering blocks of ice. His bones writhed and mutated, pulling apart and contracting, reforming like tortured earth ripped apart by rivers of fire. A black tide of pain rose in him, roaring like a stormy sea, rising to overwhelm him. He was choking, drowning, burning, searing –
Then suddenly it stopped, and he was left blinking weakly into the harsh light. His breath sounded loud and hoarse in his ears. But there had been another sound as well – a faint swish of air, like a door opening.
He dragged himself to a sitting position with trembling arms. For a moment he could see nothing but wavering ghostly blurs, darkly outlined in the hard light. He blinked and the tears faded; the room crept back into focus.
"Lupin?" he heard Moody say in surprise, "What are you doing here?"
Lupin stood in the doorway, looking grim and haggard. His robes were unkempt. There was a battered flask attached to his belt and his wand looked smudged as if from overuse. A muscle in his cheek twitched as he looked at the ancient, scar-bound face of the Auror. There was no dislike or contempt in that gaze, Draco could not help noticing; despite his intimated disapproval of Moody's means, Lupin obviously had no other issues with the man. The thought was a twist of sullen unfairness, but that was nothing new. Most of his thoughts were painful. And it didn't matter what Lupin's opinions were, as long as he kept his word.
"I came to help you," Lupin said, as if the fact were self-evident.
Draco wondered if Lupin had counted on Moody's presence here. How would he deal with the one-legged bastard? It was too much to expect that Lupin would think of some fittingly painful creativity to eliminate Moody. Still, Draco decided darkly, if he managed to get even a finger on a wand, he would leave the twisted old monster with something to remember him by. Or maybe he would see to it that Moody never had a chance to remember anything again.
"Not meaning to offend, Lupin," Moody said gruffly, lowering his wand, "But I thought you were indisposed tonight. A wolf can hardly ask questions, after all..."
Internal alarms began to clamour in Draco's recovering brain. A wolf, tonight? But that would mean that there was a full moon rising outside. Lupin had set the date for the escape today, but he could hardly do anything as a werewolf – could he? Something had gone wrong. Perhaps they had been found out...
"Don't worry, Alastor," Lupin said with a tired smile, "I haven't forgotten. I know exactly what I am doing. In fact, I am here on orders. Sirius received a message from the top, you see, suggesting a new... approach to the problem, which only I can deliver."
"I wasn't informed..."
"There was no time - the order only arrived today. We had to move immediately, because the tactic requires the full moon."
New tactic? The smell of danger hovered in the air like the stench of a particularly ripe French cheese. Draco found his liking for events diminishing even more. He looked around furtively; a sudden urge gripped him to leap to his feet and run out the door, grabbing Moody's wand on the way and taking his chances. That, however, would be suicide, and although he had often thought that death was not an undesirable alternative to life, still he could not quite bring himself to step over the final line of indifference.
"I think you'd better explain yourself, sonny," Moody said, "What exactly are you planning to do?"
"In about twenty minutes," Lupin replied coolly, "I am going to transform into a werewolf. If Malfoy does not reveal everything he knows within the following five minutes, I will bite him."
Draco almost choked aloud. Treachery! A voice deep inside him laughed at the hypocrisy of his own indignation. He could not believe it. He had been so sure! He had been positive that Lupin, the golden boy, the infallibly moral gentleman, would never go back on his word.
He began to realize that he had made a very serious mistake.
Horror breathed moistly down his neck. To be bitten by a werewolf... he knew he was strong-willed; he could stand pain and threats and endless interrogation. But becoming a Dark Creature was something else altogether. To turn into a ravening monster every month, to have that monster imprisoned inside you, tearing eternally at the bars of humanity that held it trapped... even in human form, the werewolf qualities would carry over. He doubted he would be able to hold them at bay as well as Lupin had. But worse, there were the transformations themselves. He was painfully aware that the spell that had protected him so far, the Obstaculus spell, was only effectual on humans. Once he began to transform into a wolf, the magic would drop off him like autumn leaves, and everything he knew would be horribly exposed. A simple Veritas spell before he had lost the ability to talk, and his last playing card would be gone. Then they could do what they liked with him: incarcerate him for eternity, with only gruesome nights as a demonic wolf to pass the time.
And it would all begin tonight, in about twenty minutes.
Moody cleared his throat. "Isn't that a tad... harsh?" he asked, a frown deepening the shadowed scars on his face.
Draco wondered if weakness and fear had destroyed his sense of hearing. Lupin, he noticed, looked hardly less surprised. Was he mistaken, or had Mad-Eye Moody expressed a compassionate sentiment?
"You know my feelings about these things," Lupin said, "But what can we do? Orders are orders."
"Yes, of course, you're right," Moody grumbled, "And this is your case, technically... now what am I supposed to do in the meantime?"
Lupin shrugged. "You aren't needed for the moment. Come back in a half hour – if there are two wolves here, then you'll know I failed. If Malfoy is still human, then I will have procured the information and will be able to pass it on at sunrise. In the meantime, why don't you get some rest – most of the staff have probably either gone to bed or Apparated to a cheerier place by now anyway. Or," he added as if a thought had suddenly occurred to him, "you could take a message to Sirius from me. Tell him... 'we can condone any action if it protects the innocent.'"
Moody's expression changed to what might have been meant as sympathy; his mouth drew down while the scars on his forehead contracted, and his magical eye fixed on Lupin.
"This really bothers you, doesn't it?" he asked.
"We all do what we have to," Lupin replied quietly.
Moody nodded. "Very well," he said, "good hunting." With a last look at Draco, still crouched on the floor, he hobbled out the door, drawing it closed behind him.
For a moment Draco couldn't find words.
"You fucking bastard," he snarled finally, stumbling weakly to his feet. He was as unsteady as a batch of overheated taffy, but too angry and frightened to care. He felt betrayed. The sensation was new to him, and he didn't like it. Usually he was the one betraying others – that was the proper order of things.
Lupin pointed his wand at him warningly. "Be quiet," he said with a hint of a snap in his tone, "and do exactly as I tell you."
"I won't do a damn thing," Draco hissed, "You're wasting your time threatening me."
"Oh, for God's..." Lupin rubbed his face roughly with his free hand, "Don't tell me you believed that!"
It took a moment for Draco to register this. "What...?" he said finally, "You mean you're not going to...?"
"No," Lupin said with unconcealed exasperation, "We had a deal, remember? Not everyone is a traitor."
The barb found its target. Draco could feel himself flushing. His insides seemed to be changing temperature rapidly. One moment he was filled with burning anger, then icy embarrassment, then boiling hatred and melting shame. He wished for a wand, his fingers clenching unconsciously at the thought. If a glare could curse, he was sure his would have, but Lupin seemed not to notice.
Anger, as usual, sharpened his wits. His eyes lighted on the shabby flask at Lupin's hip.
"So," he said, determined to change the subject, "Polyjuice Potion?"
Lupin stared at him expressionlessly. "What?" he asked finally.
Draco glared. "The flask!" he snapped, "Who am I going to turn into? That is your plan, isn't it?"
"Don't be ridiculous!" Lupin said, rolling his eyes, "You think we could polyjuice our way out of this? Every arriving or departing witch or wizard is subject to a security check – including, among other things, a Polyjuice detection test. This is a high security facility, Malfoy, and that means wards, guards, and enchanted bars."
"Thank you for that confidence-inspiring lecture, Professor," Draco said, "Now if you don't mind, I have a question or two. Actually, just one: how are we getting out of here?"
A smile played at the corners of Lupin's lips, making him look mischievously youthful. Instead of replying, he pulled a piece of folded parchment out of his pocket, smoothing it out carefully. The paper was joined seconds later by what appeared to be a Number 2 pencil.
"Let's use our imaginations, shall we?" he suggested, holding the paper out to Draco.
Draco took it hesitantly. The crisp page crackled in his hands as he glanced over the lines and marks marring its white surface.
It was a map.
A map of the building, he realized instantly and with rising excitement. It was rough and undetailed, showing only unidentified rooms and corridors. Little dots roamed the two-dimensional world, labelled with names, most of which were unfamiliar. He did, however, recognize two of them: Remus Lupin and Draco Malfoy, stationary in what was aptly designated the 'interrogation room.' Another spot, labelled 'Alastor Moody,' was hurrying along a corridor away from them. There were conspicuously few people present. He recalled Lupin's words to Moody – 'most of the staff have gone to bed or Apparated to a cheerier place.' Apparently, his former professor had somehow managed to thin out the security tonight.
Then he noticed something that made his breath catch. He looked up at Lupin slowly. "Is this accurate?" he asked.
"I assume you've spotted our escape route," Lupin said with a twinkle in his eye.
"I'll say," Draco muttered.
Beneath the hastily drawn halls and rooms, a tunnel stretched across the length of the map. It opened to the wide outside beyond the building. And, according to the drawing, its entrance was in the very room they were standing in!
"How is this possible?" Draco wondered aloud sceptically, "Why would there be a tunnel from an interrogation room, of all places? Wouldn't it be warded? And where's the entrance?"
"The answer is quite simple," Lupin said in his best lecturing tone, "there isn't a tunnel."
"What the hell! Then what is this all about?"
"...yet. There is no tunnel yet." Lupin finished.
"Oh, brilliant," Draco commented with mock enthusiasm, "all we have to do is dig one, then!"
"No, all we have to do is draw one."
"You mean..." Draco gestured to the unassuming pencil in Lupin's hand, "with your magic pencil there? And just how do you plan to draw a tunnel on the ground?"
"Typical teenager," Lupin muttered, "think they know everything... now listen for a minute! There's a lot more magic in this little stick than you think. This isn't a joke pencil, it's a Realiscryber. It can tweak reality a bit, in a pinch. Since I've drawn the tunnel onto the map, reality is now trying to bend itself to fit its new blueprint. Unfortunately, it doesn't know where to start. The solution is simple – all we have to do is give the magic a place to fix onto. In other words, draw the beginning of the tunnel. The rest will fall into place from there."
Draco nodded slowly, beginning to understand. "So we draw a trapdoor on the floor?"
"Precisely. The escape route will build itself from that point. And since it will be brand-new, there won't be any wards placed around it."
"Well, it's creative, I have to give you that," Draco said grudgingly, "But couldn't you just have disabled the wards and Apparated us out of here?"
"For a Deatheater, you have remarkably little understanding of how wards work," Lupin remarked with exaggerated patience, "The moment the wards detected a Dark Creature tampering with them they'd start shrieking louder than an offended veela. Believe me, I've thought this out quite carefully. Now, if you have no further objections?"
When Draco didn't reply, Lupin nodded to himself and crouched down with pencil in hand. He began sketching lightly on the floor. Despite his determined detachment, Draco found himself watching curiously. Lupin obviously had some experience with art. His slim fingers held the pencil with the same assurance they did his wand, and an expression of thoughtful confidence enveloped his face. The pose was reminiscent of a Renaissance painter, Draco found himself thinking, a painter spending long insomniac nights tracing silvery waves and night-flowers onto obedient canvas. He stepped closer, almost expecting to see rose-tinted clouds wreathing the soft limbs of innocent angel children as they peered up at him shyly.
No angels greeted him, but the picture that had taken shape under Lupin's skilful hands was hardly less fascinating. The reason for this, Draco mused, was most likely that it wasn't quite a picture.
One half of a trapdoor protruded slightly out of the floor. It was a simple device, apparently made of thin wooden boards, with a broad iron handle at the end. The handle looked quite substantial, as did the planks surrounding it, but towards the other end, where the hinges should be, the wood faded back into the bare floor. Only a few grey lines revealed what the finished trapdoor would look like. Lupin was filling them in diligently, and the little door grew gradually more corporeal as he watched.
"How much more time will this take?" Draco asked a few minutes later, when the work seemed almost finished.
Lupin paused and glanced up at him. Before he could speak, however, the door banged open and Mad-Eye Moody stomped in, scowling pure murder at them both.
Draco was only vaguely aware of Lupin jumping to his feet, both wand and pencil dropping from his hands. A wave of self-recrimination momentarily blotted out all other thoughts. He clenched the paper in his hand angrily. Why hadn't he watched the map? If he hadn't been so absorbed in observing Lupin, he could have known Moody was on his way here! He fumed inwardly, not least because lurking beneath his rage he could feel the dark stirrings of fear.
"Lupin!" Moody snapped, levelling his wand at both of them, "I knew there was something dodgy about this whole thing... Whatever's gotten into you, you'll have a hard time explaining it to the Ministry!" His magical eye glared balefully at his colleague like a miniature full moon.
"Alastor, calm down," Lupin said, spreading his hands apart slightly to show that they were empty of any weapon, "You misunderstand my intentions..."
"It's a bit difficult to misunderstand treachery, isn't it?" Moody replied bitterly, "But I would never have guessed it of you, Remus. This is going to upset a lot of people – a Deatheater in the Agency! You've dragged our name through the mud, boy!"
"I am not a Deatheater," Lupin growled with sudden harshness. Draco could not help thinking that his former teacher looked a lot more sinister than he usually did. Shadows clung to Lupin amorously, and Draco could have sworn that the man's eyes were glowing a soft amber. The light flashed on his teeth when he spoke. They looked oddly sharp.
Moody seemed to notice Lupin's ominous aura as well. He raised his wand threateningly. "Don't make a move," he said, "I'm only going to Stupefy you, but if you try any of that werewolf business on me I promise you I can think of worse."
Werewolf business? Draco realized that he had almost forgotten – tonight was the full moon. And the twenty minutes had surely passed by now. Was Lupin beginning to Change? The situation was getting bleaker by the second. Grateful to be momentarily forgotten, he watched the two men apprehensively, repressing an urge to shiver at the tension crackling in the air.
"I... don't... werewolf business!" Lupin forced the words out of his throat. He shook his head as if trying to clear it. The shaking spread quickly to the rest of his body. Draco watched in sick fascination as Lupin's face contorted with pain and he clutched dizzily at his head.
Moody backed away uneasily, seeming slightly unsure of what action to take. "Remus...?" he asked nervously.
Lupin's hands jerked suddenly, pulling away from his face. Pure golden eyes glared at the Auror fiercely. He clenched his fists, and Draco could see that the fingernails had grown black and blunt, like chips splintered from an ancient school blackboard. Suddenly, a strangled howl ripped from Lupin's throat, and he began to tear at his robes with his stunted claws. The dark cloth fell away, slit to shreds, revealing pale, vulnerable skin underneath. Skin that was... rippling. Draco couldn't think of a better word for it. Lupin's skin bulged and distorted as the sinews beneath strained and the muscles ballooned to predator size. It looked like the earth after a drought, broken, uneven, abused. His hair, which seemed coarser and shaggier than it had been, grew and spread over his body infectiously. And yet he remained standing, his face his own, disfigured by an anguish too great for words.
Draco himself never knew quite what happened to him in that moment. A sudden silence descended upon him, and he watched with detached interest as tendrils of cruelly twisted magic battered a man's body. Deep darkness welled up from some source of primitive evil, gleefully tormenting its hapless victim, ripping, tearing, twisting, mutating, searing, torturing... Where had this magic come from? Who had begun it? What purpose did it serve, why did it flit so menacingly through the world to alight on this man and dig cruel talons into his soul? He didn't know. All he knew was that, for the first time in his life, he felt an immense pity touch him gently, like a golden feather drifting from the sky.
The silence shattered as Lupin staggered and crashed to the floor in a shuddering convulsion. More wolf than man, he kicked reflexively as if trying to fend off an invisible demon. And as if by chance – accidentally? purposefully? – his wiry, fur-covered foot connected with the wand lying forgotten on the floor, propelling it to land, spinning, at Draco's feet.
With a speed born of a life-time of criminal activity, Draco grabbed the slender baton and spun to face Moody. The Auror's mouth had already opened to shout an incantation when Draco hurled the first spell that came to mind.
"Riddikulus!"
"Stupefy!"
The spells collided like two trains on a single track, and a bouquet of frightened fireworks burst apart in a blinding flash. Oversized sparks bounced hyperactively from wall to wall. Draco only had time to register the look of surprise on Moody's face before an enthusiastic rainbow beat him soundly over the head and the colours were swallowed by an all-encompassing blackness.