"So are we ready to do this?"  Tonks' cheerful face popped up before Remus', currently blue eyes glowing.

            Remus smiled and set down the newspaper he had been reading on the bench.  "I take it you're actually excited about this, Tonks."

            She laughed and plopped down next to him on the bench, the only escape from the surprisingly busy streets of summertime Diagon Alley.  She gave the passerbyers a musing glance before returning her attention to Remus.  She had always had a curious look at the world, a trait that somehow managed to qualify her for a part in the Order despite all her clumsy flaws.  "Of course I'm excited.  You said this place was out in the middle of nowhere, some pudnick village in the woods. I think it sounds fun.  An escape from civilization, a chance to get a bit o' fresh air.  Not that this air isn't good enough. . ."

            Remus raised an eyebrow.  He didn't suspect Tonks of trying to hide anything;  she simply didn't work that way.  But she did have a certain fondness of rambling.  She talked for the sake of talking—something Remus didn't mind, but the return to the village continued to be a looming threat, one that best be completed soon.  But what did he fear?  Even with the Dementors, there were greater dangers in the war.  And he certainly trusted Penelope to handle everything to the best of her ability.  And yet some coldness remained, preventing him from properly enjoying Tonks' ramble.

            "I'm actually sick of  hanging around here, waiting for an attack," she continued.  "I also want to see Penelope.  I miss her."

            What would Tonks have to say about seeing Percy Weasley?  Could Remus trust her to keep that secret?  Did Percy even trust him?  Remus' thoughts toward Percy were still on the dimmer side, and Percy certainly knew that much.  For all hope, Percy might just hide in some corner while Penelope gave her little explanation.  A logical course of action, and maybe even to be expected.

            Yet Percy already had done much that he had said he wouldn't.  Like it or not, the poor kid was involved.  Even as much as Remus wished Percy wasn't.

            "I'm sure Penelope would love to see you as well," Remus heard himself assuring Tonks.  Flat, like some recording.

            Tonks frowned, squinting in the sunlight.  "You really don't want to go, do you?"  Are you not telling me everything?" 

            "No," he replied quickly.  Took quickly.  It wasn't his fault; he didn't know what else to say.

            She studied him carefully, pondering, then grabbed the newspaper from the bench and flipped madly through it, mouth moving silently as she scanned headlines.  "Did something happen?  I just thought it was an explanation of that Brown group… This had better not be something more serious; I'm sick of it all."

            A perfectly valid question.  Too bad he couldn't think of a positive answer.  "As far as I know, that's all it is.  I guess. . . I guess. . ."  Words failed him with no logic.  "I guess I just don't see much of a point to all of this."

            "There is no point," she said thoughtlessly.  Then she froze, hand on a page mid-turn.  "You've got to be kidding me, Remus."

            "Yeah, it does sound juvenile."

            She sighed, shaking her head in patient bemusement.  "Well, maybe someone needs this.  Or something."

            "Maybe someone does," he agreed.  He couldn't imagine whom.  "Well, I better contact  the others so we can be ready to leave."

            "Just a sec."  She held up a hand.  "Actual interesting article.  Some Healer at St. Mungo's was murdered.  Asa Cortez.  They don't know who did it, but it seems to be separate from the war.  Hmm.  Probably why it made headlines.  Eh, people are getting killed all the time."

Percy didn't want to be there, waiting like bait in a small clearing outside the village in hopes that members of the Order might show to free them all.  There was something terribly moronic about it, a dozen people, mainly close contacts of Morsley's who had hung about the office, representing a village hording Dementors, practically screaming to anyone in some evil position to come and kill them.  How vital this thing was to Voldemort's plan, he didn't know nor care.  But it was the idea that Morsley had been most worked up over and Percy had to agree.  But it was more than that.  The coming of the Order brought so much more personal threat….

            Penelope gave his hand a squeeze and he forced a smile down at her.  He hoped it was somewhat warm.  "I guess I'm nervous."

            "About what?"  Her question was innocent enough, but the implication was toward a total lie on his part.  He hated the way she could read him!  "Percy, there's nothing wrong with doing something good."

            "On occasion," he modified.  "But to the most of the Order. . ."

            "You're the Death Eater who tried to kill your own father."  The suggestion that the phrase had once held was now gone, replaced by an almost sadness.  "I know.  Just don't enforce that image."  She reached up and gently ran a finger down the car.  "You were their to save your father. It's not your fault."  How her words had changed over the past few weeks.  She now agreed with every stupid excuse he had ever made, every action that had brought him to this moment…. For what?  She still didn't understand. Or did she, and just not mention it?  He wanted to scream.  Women were so confusing.  "Besides, this is Remus," she continued.  "I think he's up to keeping his promises."

            How many thoughts did she know?

            Valentine, perched comfortably in a tree—probably familiar from her time watching the dragons—suddenly screamed. "I think that's them!  About a mile off.  Wow, they certainly apparated at a distance!"

            "There's definitely someone," someone else confirmed, sun glinting off their spyglass.

            Everyone seemed pleased.  Except for Morsley.

            "Well, Remus is the only one who knows this place," Morsley explained.  "Think logically.  The others with him simply wouldn't know where to apparate to—"

            "Shut up, I know," Valentine snapped.  "Oh, wow.  I can't even remember what I'm supposed to say."

            "I'll do the talking."

            "I'll talk," Penelope interjected. "I'm the one actually with the Order, they'll listen to me."  She looked in the direction of the approaching group, her expression soft with a touch of apprehension Percy had rarely seen before.  An interesting anomaly.  What was she thinking of?

            Percy's thoughts jarred at one another.  That wasn't what he was supposed to be worried about.  He was supposed to worry about his family, the threat of Remus' betrayal.  He stared out, vainly searching the trees for a glimpse of red hair.  It couldn't be true, Remus wouldn't do that.  But if a family member did appear. . . what would Percy do?  The question bit at him, fresh and painful and entirely new, something he had never considered, that moment.  Theoretically, it was never to happen. It couldn't, not with all the precautions he had taken.  But now here was that fateful possibility.  He supposed it would depend entirely on who it was.  His father. . .

            The Order was not yet in view, but something else appeared in the trees like a black wave washing through a mossy green river. . . Distant, and yet. . .

            "What's that?" someone asked.

            It couldn't be.  No. Not the strange blackness.  The gully was on the other side of the village… how far could they have come?  "Dementors," Percy whispered.

            "Dementors," someone else soud louder, using the word as one emotionless reaction before all feeling rushed out.

            Next to him, Penelope went cold.  "Oh, no," she whispered.  "I thought. . . I thought the Order could have helped us.  That was the entire point."

            Ginny, Percy thought wildly.

            "What happened?" she muttered to herself.  Then she glared up at Percy, furious.  "This wasn't supposed to happen!"

            A lot of things weren't supposed to happen.  But he knew what she wanted him to say.  He took a deep breath.  "Let's go."

            She nodded, face red but obviously pleased in a grim way.  "Rushing out to join them."  She gripped his hand all the more tightly till the felt his fingers might break.  "Everyone, stay here in case the Dementors come this way.  Start something in the village."

            With that, she and Percy headed into the trees.

            It felt strange, a sickly exhilarating rush.  One simply didn't run towards creatures like Dementors.  One just didn't.  Their presences were so strong, so mesmerizing.  Percy had never realized how destructive they were.  He squeezed his eyes shut, willing them way, hoping Penelope would have the sense to keep her own eyes open.

            . . . Penelope petrified, lying like stone on the hospital wing bed. . .

            He stumbled once and was forced to look ahead.  Black cloaks whirling through the green trees. . .

            . . . Blood-like words drenching the wall, telling of Ginny's fate while he had done nothing. . .

            Next to him, Penelope gave a small cry.

            . . . The horror of the night he had fled. . . his father. . . Death Eaters in the Ministry he had trusted. . .

            Penelope next to him sobbed and knelt to the ground, dragging him with her.

            She shouldn't have come, he realized, a singular thought cutting through his messy mind.  She shouldn't have come, not with her injury still so fresh.  He knelt down next to her and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in tight.  What was she feeling?

            "She's alive."  A voice half in shock.

            A memory or real life?  Percy shook himself to consciousness.

            Brogan Marchent stood above them, blonde hair streaked in ash and sweat, eye wild and confused, staring at Penelope.  "No, she died."  He spoke resolutely, as if trying to convince someone of what he knew to be fact.  "I killed her myself."


            A Dementor passed near. . .Percy shook his head again.  "No, you didn't kill her."  Marchent wouldn't come near her again.

            Marchent's gaze fell solely on Percy.  "Of course I killed her.  And I regret it.  It was horrible of me. I shouldn't have done it.  That's why I led the Dementors out here.  So they could chase me down and kiss me."  His voice, icy calm, cracked.  "I'm sorry I killed her.  She's dead.  But she's not dead."

            Penelope looked up, face streaked with tears.  "You released the Dementors?!  What the hell are you talking about?"

            Suicide, Percy realized.  Some twisted form of it.  He watched Brogan's face as if shifted through various emotions.

            "A hunt is so much more exciting," Marchent said softly.  "Besides, little keeps the Dementors in the gully.  They just. . . come."

            "There are people out this way!" Penelope shrieked, trying to stand up.  "And what about the village?"

            Marchent showed some fear, but quickly replaced it with a snarl.  "They've wands.  They can defend themselves."

            She shook her head.  "I've seen them.  There are hundreds of those. .. things.  And very few people can make proper Patronuses."

            "So you admit it."  He frowned at Percy.  "Why didn't you kill her like I told you to?"

            Marchent was insane.  An absolute nutcase.  "Because she never received the kiss," he replied, pulling Penelope even closer.  "She's fine, except for that stab you gave her."

            "Hmph."  But Marchent actually looked into Penelope's face.  He looked for a long time, and slowly his face drained of all color.

            Percy's chest hurt.  He hadn't been breathing.  He sucked in the precious, so much that an opposite pain arose.  He couldn't lose control now.  "But you. . .you just released hundreds of Dementors.  You, so worried about the kisses."

            Marchent said nothing, only stood frozen, a dead thing the midst of the living trees.  Behind him roamed unseen the Dementors, their presence fading as the neared the other group.

            "Brogan, just let us go!" Penelope pleaded.  "There are people out there, and we need to help them."

            "Help them," he echoed dizzily.  A knife appeared in his hand.  He looked at it in wonder.

            Heart racing, Percy pushed Penelope behind him.

            Marchent pushed the blade slowly into his own chest.

            Penelope gave something between a gasp and a whimper, and Percy watched in horror as the body slumped to the ground.

            Penelope had never witnessed a suicide.  Oh, she had heard of them before—who hadn't?—but never had she stood before someone as they took their own life.  So wrong. . . everything she had learned as a Healer went against that.  Healers could try so hard to save the life that could so easily take itself.  She herself had labored over Brogan's life not so long ago.  She stared at Marchent, lifeless on the earth, blood pouring from his chest.  The wound in her own shoulder throbbed in sympathy—but Brogan hadn't missed on himself.  Had he truly missed when he had attacked her?

            As a Healer, there was one thing she was to do.  Brogan might still be alive.  Sudden consciousness overtook her—she was too awake—as she raced toward the body.

            A firm hand on her wrist pulled her back. "We don't have time."

            Her eyes flashed back to Brogan.  Could he. . .?  "I have to check. I might be able to save him."

            "The Dementors," Percy insisted.  "I can't conjur a patronus.  Neither can you, and I don't know how many of the Order can."

            "Why do you care about them?" she snapped.  Strange.  Percy.  Actually defending the Order.  She thought she'd never see that. But why now?  Why couldn't that wait?  She ripped her hand free, but didn't move away.  "Just because he attempted suicide—"

            "He's endangered everyone," Penny," he replied.  His voice was stable, but his face deathly pale.  "There's a chance my family could be out there.  I had to intervene before, and I don't want it again."

            "Something you learned in the Death Eater circle," she replied coolly.

            He showed no offense.  "Amazing some of the things you pick up."

            "So you're just going to reveal yourself to your family, if they're here?"  She hated the taste of the words.

            For a long time he stared at her.  How dare he, she thought.  Then he spoke.  "Penny, I'm glad you're here.  I love you.  Please, come with me."

            He was right.  They had to go.  Regardless of Brogan.  Tears burned in her eyes, streaming from who know what emotion, and she nodded.  It was wrong, leaving Brogan.  Very wrong.  She hurried along with Percy, but glanced back, watching the blood as it seeped into the earth.

            "I'm sorry," Percy said softly.  "I'm sorry."

            She sniffed and tried vainly to push the tears away.  "It's not your fault."

            "Maybe it was."

            She didn't know how to reply. Her mind was a whirl of everything else.  She rushed through the trees with him, concentrating only on keeping her thoughts away from the Dementors.  If only they were nearer. . .

            "We're on the wrong side," Percy said suddenly.

            Penelope stopped, jerking him back with her. "What do you mean, on the wrong side?"

            He shook his head. "I mean, the Dementors are going the wrong way.  You can feel it."

            They were fading from them… she didn't understand.  She closed her eyes, letting down her guard against them.  It was strange… if her feelings could be divided into halves… there was so much more sense of the Dementors' presence on one side.  "And I can hear the others, the people from the Order.  But. . . but we're closer to them.  No, not with the angle."  She tried to imagine it in her mind, a chart like one to make for class.  If only she could be sure.  "We need to hurry and warn them.  Maybe they could hear us."

            "I think they already know," Percy said.  He gazed into the trees, and Penelope recognized shoots of silver through the green and black.

            She grabbed his hand and started forward again.  "Then we really need to hurry!"

            "And do what?"  He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  "This is such a mess.  We need to force them back. Somehow.  There are too many behind us."

            She had been the Ravenclaw.  She had to think of something.  But nothing came to mind, except rushing out madly to help them… as more Dementors came?

            "We need to force the Order back," Percy repeated.  "It's our only option."

            Of course.  That would save them, until the Dementors could be dealt with and they could get a proper warning.  "Do you have an idea as to how?"

            "Attack them," he said quickly, voice set. 

            "Attack?!"  Her hand flew to the wound on her shoulder.

            He nodded, sure in his decision.  "Start a fire, maybe.  Nothing big.  If we're there. . . they'll recognize that power."

            She stared at him, horrified by the obvious sincerity in his face.  "But. . . "

            He met her eyes, frowning. "It'll work.  They'll see us, these people surrounded by Dementors, and they'll expect the worst.  They'll be ready."


            "The Order," she said softly.  "They'll recognize me.  They'll think. . ."

            "Welcome to my world."

            Remus hadn't expected it.  No sooner had they apparated into what should have been the safe forest than the Dementors swarmed around him, dizzying and lethal.  He wasn't prepared for it, no one was.  But what else could they do?  His wand was out in an instant, hot in his hand, and he felt the silver like a friendly warm flame around him as the patronus spell was released everywhere.  So cold outside of that circle. . .  The one thing that gave him strength. 

            "This sucks!" Tonks screamed, her silver chameleon patronus, larger than life, ricocheted at an invisible wall of air.

            Remus was inclined to agree.

            "You said it would be nothing!"

            What had happened in the village?  "Just keep fighting!" he called weakly.  "Just keep fighting!"  His own wand burned now at his skin as he tried to keep his own spell alive.

            Or was it the wand?


            Flames burned at the treetops, streaks of orange racing toward them, stunning against the black Dementor cloaks.  Remus forced himself to look up...

            Two figures, perched above the flames, staring down at them.

            He squinted.  …Penelope Clearwater?  It couldn't be.

            "She betrayed us!" someone yelled.

            "No," Remus moaned, feeling his patronus' strength waver.  No, he had to keep at it.  It made no sense. 

            "They're probably leading more down," Tonks muttered.

            It had to be something, he thought.  Penelope wouldn't do that.  It had to be something.

            A fresh surge of power blasted from his wand tip.