CB: Hmm, didn't think I'd start writing this chapter so quickly – but this is the one that started it all off, particularly one scene…I'll let you guess which.
Extra Warning: Some physical violence and torture in this chapter.
'What lovers convey in a glance, it would take
a thousand years for the rest of us to say.'
- L.A. 'The Swan And The Singer
The steam curled up out of the teacup and into the warm, cosy atmosphere of Dumbledore's study. The clock ticked quietly in the corner, it's pendulum swinging slowly back and forth, and on the walls, several generations of headmasters looked down with benign disapproval upon their wizened faces.
All of this was lost on Remus, however, who was simply staring into space; hands folded neatly in his lap, ignoring the cup of tea in front of him.
There was the quiet click of a door shutting, and Dumbledore ambled over and sat down behind his desk. Peering over the top of his half moon spectacles, he rested his hands on the desk in front of him, leaning forwards to gaze at the newly returned auror.
"Mr Lupin." Puzzled amber eyes turned towards Dumbledore, who smiled serenely, "It is good to have you back."
"Thank you, sir." The werewolf's voice was quiet, precise, and totally without any emotion.
Another long silence ensued, until Dumbledore cleared his throat, indicating the teacup with a nod of his head. "I take it you don't wish to have a drink?"
"No."
A flick of the wand and the tea had vanished, leaving only a very small tea stain where the cup had rested on the table. "Mr Lupin, I must admit that I am curious as to how you were treated whilst you were in captivity." Dumbledore's kind blue eyes twinkled. "You look remarkably well, and I must confess some surprise at this. I would have thought at the very least you would have been tortured for information."
"I was not ill treated." Remus turned his head to look at one of the paintings (which frowned disapprovingly at him), deliberately avoiding Dumbledore's gaze.
"No, apparently not. You know, James was extremely worried about you."
"Indeed."
The Headmaster of Hogwarts sighed, suddenly looking much older. "Remus, you are not making this conversation easy," He chided gently, "I am not your enemy."
"What do you wish to talk about then?" The werewolf's voice was tight as his jaw twitched, his lips thinning into a line.
"Many things," Dumbledore smiled wearily, "Most of which can wait. However, there are a few that can't. The enemy's resources, for example; did you happen to see how many Death Eaters Voldemort had in that castle?"
"No." Remus's hands curled slightly in his lap. "I was kept mostly by myself or with…" He clamped his mouth shut again and looked away once more.
"Ah yes, with Sirius." Dumbledore looked thoughtful. "He is another topic I wish to discuss with you." He paused, rubbing his chin, a thoughtful expression on his face. "James brought him back here. I, personally, would have deemed it more advisable to keep him here, but alas, the Ministry deemed otherwise – he was taken away to be questioned." If this was meant to provoke Remus, it didn't, so Dumbledore continued. "The officials stayed only long enough to tell me that it might be necessary for you to validate anything he tells them. They also informed me that, if you so wished, since you were captured and presumably ill-treated, you may come and watch Black's questioning."
Hard amber eyes turned towards the headmaster and Remus's lips drew back in a fierce smile. "Yes, I'd like to see that." His voice dripped with icy venom – something that was completely uncharacteristic for him, and Dumbledore found himself wondering whether he should simply have put off this interview until another time.
"Remus, I understand that you must have gone through a very difficult time, so I'll talk to you later." The headmaster stood up, indicating that the interview had ended, and opened the door of his office. "If you need anything, anything at all, just come and talk to me and I'll see what I can do."
"Yes." The Auror stood as well and made to walk out. He paused, however, one hand resting on the doorframe, face showing a flicker of indecision. "Professor, if…Black hadn't actually killed anyone…"
"…He would still have to face charges of being party to the atrocities the Death Eaters commit, and that is a life sentence." Dumbledore's voice was firm but kind.
"I see."
The faces flickered in and out of his vision, always with grim expressions.
Tell us…No.
Tell. Us.
No!
He gritted his teeth, tasting blood in his mouth as pain slammed into him again, making his knees buckle, sending him sprawling to the floor. The ground was cold under his cheek – the only sensation he could feel apart from the never-ending, brutal torment. His fingers scrabbled vainly at the floor, even as his back arched in another wracking wave of agony that blazed through him.
If you don't tell us, we will simply wring the truth out of you scream by scream.
The pain stopped and he blinked, unable to see through the haze that clouded his mind and eyes. He could feel blood trickling from the corner of his mouth and his nose (was it broken? He wondered dizzily) and at least one arm was surely badly injured. Nonetheless, he had just enough sense to try to push himself up onto his knees. Hair hanging in his eyes, he grunted with the effort and pain.
A force like a large hand knocked him flat again and he felt a finger break as he landed awkwardly on his hand. He cried out once, then bit his lip to stop another noise breaking free from him. He would not give them the satisfaction.
So that's the way you want it to be.
This time white-hot heat rammed itself through his skull, making it feel as though someone had stabbed a heated poker through his eye. He bit his lip so hard that he felt skin rip beneath his teeth and his body shook with the screaming suffering of his mind.
Now, tell us what Voldemort plans to do.
He shook his head, fresh blood spilling from between his lips, too tired to even voice a denial. 'Just hold on,' a voice was saying in his head, 'Hang in there, you've survived this before, you can survive it again.'
Before. He didn't want to think about before.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he rested his head against cold, gritty concrete and waited for the inevitable fresh burst of pain. But as if reading his mind, the voices vanished.
"He's tough," He heard a voice say somewhere above him, "Maybe we should extract his memories? Get him to talk that way?"
"Might be worth a try." A second voice, thoughtful, "But we should probably wait until the witness gets here in the morning – he can at least validate what we'll see then."
Witness? What witness? What were they walking about? His mind spinning with questions, the prisoner coughed again, weakly, and felt blood splatter the floor by his mouth, but he was too exhausted to care. 'Blood loss,' His mind supplied, 'Whatever you do, try to stay awake.' He blinked once, twice, but the pain in his body was crushing, and when darkness covered his mind, he couldn't fight it.
Remus…"Very kind of you to come, Mr Lupin, particularly after all the trauma you must have gone through recently." The small, plump clerk (who reminded Remus somewhat vaguely of Peter) hurried ahead of him, chattering breathlessly. "Simply awful being captured by Death Eaters, I must say, but at least you're safe now."
James, who was striding along next to Remus, shot his friend a quick glance out of the corner of his eye. The werewolf didn't look pleased to be free and safe again; indeed, he looked positively grim. 'Perhaps,' James thought, 'It's just because he's tired.'
They paused outside a small, unobtrusive door with the word 'Private' written on it in small, gold letters. The clerk rapped once on it, and was rewarded with a 'come in'. Pushing the door open, he ushered Remus and James inside before shutting the door quickly and quietly behind them. Nodding his head towards the middle of the room, he murmured, "You are to join these gentlemen." Before he scuttled backwards like a startled crab, melting into the shadows in a corner of the room.
"Mr Lupin." One of the men sitting around the table stood up, hand outstretched. "I can't tell you how pleased I am to meet you. You are quite a hero after the agony you must have endured at the hands of those villains."
'A hero?' The werewolf thought bitterly, even as he accepted the man's proffered hand with a polite smile, 'Hah, if they really knew what I am…they wouldn't be half so polite. Not like…' He shut the train of thought off abruptly and sat in the seat indicated.
The room was fairly dark, but one of the walls had been substituted for a huge window that looked out into a small, concrete cell with nothing in it. A table and chairs sat in the room they were currently in, and the stark contrast of the comfort of the room and the brutal coldness of the cell beyond was almost shocking. As Remus watched, the rest of the men in the room settled back into their chairs around the table, and James sank down next to him.
"Fudge," He murmured, nodding to the man who had shaken his hand. "Not a particularly bright fellow, but fairly amiable all the same." His finger flickered in the direction of the man sitting next to the affable Fudge. "Crouch, a near sure bet for the next Minister of Magic, not exactly a pleasant man." Indeed, Crouch didn't look it. His face appeared permanently frozen in a grim expression and his hooked nose and something that vaguely resembled Snape about it.
"The two to the right of them I don't know," James continued under his breath, "But the one next to them is old Ernest Weasley – you know, Arthur's father."
Remus nodded and turned his attention to Crouch, who had stood up.
"Mr Lupin, I know this must have been a difficult time for you," He began, "And let me say on behalf of myself and my colleagues that we are grateful that you could come today." He gave a cold smile. "I hope you don't mind, but we've taken the liberty of setting up an interrogation – we need you to testify to everything the prisoner says." He turned his head towards the large window and Remus's heart dropped like a stone.
Oh god...no…The door of the cell opened, and two ministry guards came through, dragging what looked like a large bundle between them. Slinging their burden to the floor, they straightened and stepped back smartly – something almost military in their actions.
Remus's hands curled and he bit his lip.
No, no, no, it can't be, it isn't…
The bundle shifted, and it became evident that it was a person as it moved one hand, fingers scraping slowly along the floor. Black hair hung lank and messy around the person's face, matted with blood and dirt, obscuring their eyes from view. Robes, pale blue, ('just like the ones that day in the garden', Remus thought, bile rising in his throat) hung in tatters off a lean body, now massed with large, angry wounds that still slowly dripped blood.
It is…they…they've hurt him…He felt sick as he stood abruptly, swaying on his feet. "I'm sorry, I cannot do this."
"Mr Lupin, I understand your emotion at finally seeing your captor get his just reward, but I must insist that you stay." Crouch's voice was icy, implacable.
The prisoner in the cell shifted again, finally raising his head, and pain dulled grey eyes stared straight at the glass for a moment before looking away. One of the guards came forward again, pulling the prisoner back onto his feet and shoving him against a wall.
Crouch nodded. "Begin the extraction process."
In the cell, the second guard pulled out his wand and held it straight at the prisoner's heart, murmuring something that could not be heard through the thick glass. There was a blinding flash of light that dazzled the onlookers, and then suddenly, shockingly, an image flickered across the surface of the glass of the window. The scene was faded, slightly blurred at the edges – rather like they were watching an old film, and Remus staggered backwards, mouth dry as he realised this particular scene.
"Charms…late…Feezle…." His younger self crouched next to a young man with long black hair, shoving books back into his arms.
"Hey, don't worry." The boy was looking at him, a small smile on his face. "It's probably my fault as well…"
Remus stood still, heart pounding in his chest as his younger self vanished, leaving the young, dark haired man and his friend alone in the image.
"Sirius…are you ok?""Hmm? Oh, yes, fine." Curious grey eyes flickered briefly off to one side. "That boy…who was he?"
"Him? Ah, just a Gryffindor."
"A Gryffindor." A small smile, playing around the boy's lips, "But an interesting one…"
The scene shifted and Remus realised James was staring at him, his face white. "That was.." He hissed, clearly not wanting the other occupants of the room to overhear.
"Yes…" Remus swallowed. Hard. Helplessness crashed over him in waves as he stared, unseeing, at his friend.
'I met someone…I was…coming back from the library…' Sirius's voice rang through his head and his breath caught in his throat. Sirius hadn't asked where he'd seen him at Hogwarts. He didn't need to. He knew.
And he hadn't said anything…"Ah, this is interesting." Fudge's voice broke through Remus's turmoil. "It appears he has been here before."
His gaze turning reluctantly back, Remus had to swallow a choked cry that threatened to break free of his lips as he saw the scene unfolding on the glass in front of him.
A younger Sirius, clearly no more than eighteen was hanging, limp against a cold white wall. His wrists were shackled above his head and blood ran in shocking, scarlet line from one corner of his mouth.
"Mother…"A woman also in the scene turned towards him, her black hair flying around her face with the force of her abrupt movement.
"I'm not your mother you miserable child! NEVER call me that again."
"Mother, please…don't let them do this to me!"
"Silence! You will answer their questions truthfully and you may be given some leniency."
"Mother PLEASE!"
She stared at him, brown eyes hard. "You are dead to me, Sirius. Do not think that your pleas will mean anything to me. Your relationship with myself and your family finished the day you betrayed the side of light and turned to Voldemort."
"No…"Another burst of white light, and Fudge tapped the glass impatiently. "None of this is at all relevant." He complained loudly, "We are supposed to be learning more about the forces of Voldemort."
As if on cue, the castle flickered across the surface of the glass, showing the large rose garden.
"That's where you found Mr Lupin?" Crouch pointed excitedly at the screen, his gaze on James, who nodded.
The vision flickered again, and the onlookers saw the inside of the castle. Two Death Eaters were walking down one of the corridors, one gripping a book, the other struggling to keep up with the long strides of his companion. As they turned the corner, the vision dimmed, blurred and vanished.
A moment later, it became evident that nothing more was forthcoming and Crouch snorted in disgust. "He's hiding something, you can tell." Waving a hand at one of the guards in the cell to attract the man's attention, he nodded his head, indicating the prisoner.
There was a flash of violet light and Sirius's head snapped back, a harsh scream clawing its way out of his throat, even as he collapsed to his knees. Another flash, and the force of the magic had driven him to the floor. The first guard strode over and gripped the matted black hair, using it to wrench the Death Eater's head to one side. Leaning down, he whispered something in his captive's ear before wrenching him to his feet again.
Stepping back, he indicated that the second guard should continue. There was a third flash of light (this time orange) and Remus heard the physical blow enforced by the magic. Sirius's head was twisted violently to one side, as though he had been slapped, and several of the cuts on his face began to ooze blood again. Staggering forwards, he fell on his hands and knees in front of the glass, just as Crouch waved his hand again, indicating a cease in the torture.
Haunted grey eyes looked up from under the shadow of blood caked hair and their gaze caught Remus's.
Re…mus?The werewolf jumped, his breath coming fast, heart hammering. Sirius?
Grey eyes were slightly clearer now, and they trapped him so that he was half hypnotised – caught in their spell.
Please…let me die…
A step forwards, then another. He didn't realise what he was doing until he felt James's hand on his arm, heard his murmured: "What are you doing?" and shook that restraining hand off. He was drowning in pain filled pools of silver and their pull was too strong to resist. Brushing past Crouch, he crashed to his knees in front of Sirius, staring through the glass at him. His throat hurt – caught tight with painful emotion and his soul screamed, at once desperate and longing.
'He was about to tell me something," Remus remembered vaguely as his hand raised itself of its own accord, fingertips brushing cold glass. "Just before James appeared, he was in the middle of saying something." And suddenly, hearing the rest of that sentence seemed to be the most important thing in the world.
I was that boy outside the library…wasn't I? His own mind voice, soft, filled with despair.
Y-yes… Sirius's voice in his head, filled with suffering and the tang of extreme pain.
You didn't tell me.
I was going to.
And now Sirius, from where he was all but collapsed on the floor, reached out with his own hand on the other side of the glass and pressed it palm to palm with Remus's. The werewolf could feel the heat through the cool window and a single, pale tear trembled in the corner of his eye.
Grey eyes gazed up at him trustingly, lovingly, out of Sirius's beaten, bloodied face and Remus stood up abruptly.
Striding over to the door, he wrenched it open and flew down the corridor to the next room. Through the glass window, James saw his best friend fling open the door to the cell, shoving past the bemused guards and half crossing, half falling over to where Black was kneeling.
The werewolf dragged him off the floor, crushing him in a desperate embrace.
Arms, painfully weak, were flung around him, and he buried his face in Sirius's shoulder, not caring that the scent of blood, sweat and pain was almost overpowering. Bodies crushed desperately together, nearly hurting with the pressure, but it felt so right, so perfectly right that Remus couldn't have cared less.
Within the other room, Crouch slowly turned angry eyes towards James, who was staring at the scene in front of him, his mouth hanging open.
"What is the meaning of this?" Crouch's voice was cold, furious.
"I…" The bemused auror blinked, glasses flashing in the dim light. "I don't know…"
"Then we're going to find out. Now."
Remus pulled back from the embrace slightly, staring at Sirius. "You…"
The Death Eater stared back.
"You…you bastard, Black!" The werewolf snarled, then his lips were crushing against the torn and bloodied ones of his companion's.
Sirius whimpered slightly, pain flaring as Remus's hands cupped his face, accidentally brushing several deep scratches. He did his best to ignore it, however, pushing back hungrily, mouth melding with Remus's as his fingers fisted in the warm robes beneath his fingers.
"Lupin! What on earth are you doing?" Crouch's voice cut through the haze enveloping Remus's mind, and he broke away from Sirius and turned his head, looking up at the enraged Ministry employee who was towering over him.
"Mr Crouch, it is with deep regret that I must state that I cannot testify against the prisoner Sirius Black." The werewolf's eyes were hard shards as he stared at the other man.
"Are you mad?" Crouch snarled, "He's killed thousands of innocent people, Lupin!"
"No. He's killed no one." Remus grasped Sirius's hands, tugging the exhausted man to his feet as he stood up as well. Sirius swayed slightly where he stood and the werewolf wrapped a protective and supporting arm around his waist.
"What on earth are you talking about?" Crouch's face was slowly turning a mottled purple as he fought rising rage. "He's a Death Eater, Lupin! He's terrorised countless people, murdered still more, he follows VOLDEMORT!" His voice rising, the man fought for breath and control. Nostrils flaring, he stared at Remus's defiant expression. "He kidnapped you, treated you badly…"
"Sirius never mistreated me!" Remus snapped, "You all simply assumed that I'd been horribly brutalised."
"Even so, you should not be standing up for this…this…miscreant!"
"No. Maybe I shouldn't be." Remus raised his head, looking down his nose at Crouch with disgust, "But I am."
"Careful what you say, Lupin. Your actions are strongly associating you with one of them." He jerked his head at the bloodied Sirius, who was watching the scene with wide, vaguely disorientated eyes.
"Well, if this…" And here Remus protectively pulled Sirius closer, "…is how you treat your prisoner, I'm not surprised!"
Crouch started forwards, clearly intent on wrenching the bedraggled Sirius away from the werewolf, but a low growl stopped him. Remus's lips were drawn back from his teeth, his eyes icy as he stared at the angry man.
"Touch him, Crouch, and you will regret it."
"Madness…this is madness!"
A wand was pulled from the pocket of Remus's robe and aimed at his chest. "I'm going. Sirius is coming with me."
"He is not!" Crouch started forwards, almost without thinking, but the wand raised in a threatening manner, and he froze in his tracks.
"Now get out of the way," Remus's voice was cold, "Or I will kill you."
To Be Continued…