Chapter 12: Consequences

Remus was coming to dread going to the Ministry on the day that the werewolves turned themselves in. Seeing the horde of hollow-eyed men surrendering themselves to the four case-workers always left him feeling empty and tired, and he tried to be there when the doors opened so he could take his last dose of Wolfsbane and be gone before they started arriving.

Circumstances kept him this month, though, and it was almost two before he was able to get away from headquarters, which meant that he arrived at the Ministry in the midst of the milling, aimless crowd giving itself over to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. He picked his way through the throng and gave his name to the frazzled-looking receptionist, then skimmed the room for a place to sit. There were no chairs available, of course, and no empty walls to lean against, so he stood by the window and waited, hoping this wouldn't take too long.

Minutes ticked by, and the crowd grew, seeming to engulf the waiting room. He watched as more and more people pushed their way to the window to sign in, and the noise grew to an unbearable level. After almost half an hour, a dozen people with Ministry name-tags walked in, and the names started being called faster.

"Murphy, Edward!" shouted one voice, and Remus skimmed the crowd, looking for Diana and her sons. He found them pressing to the office door, Edward walking with his head down, the exuberant smile replaced with a sullen frown. Robbie wasn't with them. Remus watched as they disappeared through the door.

"Lupin, Remus!"

Remus looked up and found a wizard in an orange robe waiting at the door to the office corridor, and he sidled his way through the crowd. As soon as the door closed behind them, the roar became a low din.

"Remus Lupin?" the wizard confirmed as he opened the door to one of the offices.

"Yes," Remus replied.

"I'm Albert," the wizard said, gesturing into the room. "Have a seat."

Remus took his seat in the sterile office; it was impersonal and sparsely furnished with one desk, three uncomfortable chairs, a set of scales and a shelf lined with folded blankets. A curtain sectored off one corner of the room.

Albert sat on the other side of the desk, scribbling something on a piece of parchment in the folder. When his quill stopped scratching, he turned it around and pushed it in front of Remus. "Sign there, stating that you're presenting yourself to Ministry custody," Albert said, pointing at a line on the page, "then step behind the curtain. Your possessions go in here." He handed Remus a box.

Remus stared at the box, then looked at the parchment, then at the wizard. "I beg your pardon?"

"Sign there," Albert repeated, tapping the parchment.

"No," Remus interrupted. "There's been some mistake. I'm not turning myself in."

"What do you mean, you're not turning yourself in?" It was Albert's turn for a blank look.

"I'm just here for my dose of Wolfsbane," Remus replied. When no look of comprehension dawned on the other wizard's face, he prompted, "A potion?"

"I don't know anything about a potion," Albert said, pointing at the parchment again. "I'm just supposed to get you to sign, weigh you, get your clothes and take you to your cell."

"But I'm not handing myself over," Remus repeated. "I need to take my potion."

"You're not a werewolf? You are Remus Lupin, aren't you?"

"Yes, but—"

"Remus J. Lupin?"

"Yes."

"All right. Just sign here and—"

"I'm not signing that parchment," Remus protested. "I just need to take my potion and I'll be out of your hair. Are you from another department?"

"That's none of your business," Albert snapped. "And I don't know anything about a potion."

"Why don't you go ask someone?" Remus suggested, his patience wearing thin.

"Look, you're just making this harder on yourself, mate—"

"I am not your mate."

"—just sign the paper and step behind the curtain—"

"Why don't you just go get Lara Berkeley or one of the case workers?"

"They're busy. That's why I'm here helping out. We're just trying to get everyone processed through and—"

"I'll wait."

Albert sighed, and closed the folder with a snap. "I'll be back in a few minutes," he said.

A few minutes turned into nearly fifteen, during which time Remus felt his patience slipping by degrees. When the door opened again, Lara appeared, looking hassled and frazzled.

"Why didn't I know it was you?" she asked, picking up the folder from the desk. "Come on, Remus."

He stood and followed her out into the corridor, past Albert, who already had another folder in his hand and was leading someone else into the room he'd just vacated. They were barely inside Lara's office when she sighed. "Albert tells me you wouldn't cooperate with him."

"He was confused," Remus replied, taking a seat. "I'm just here for my potion, but he doesn't seem to understand that."

"Your potion?" Lara repeated. "Didn't you get—" She interrupted herself with a groan. "This, Remus, is precisely why it is important for us to have a valid address on file," she said. "Ministry owls were sent out yesterday. I take it you have not had your post delivered care of Albus Dumbledore yet?"

"No…" he said, staring at her. "I did not."

"Well," she said, plucking a parchment from the corner of her desk and pushing it towards him, "the short version is that yesterday afternoon, one hundred of our doses of Wolfsbane turned blue, and St. Mungo's personnel confirmed that the batch was tainted. We have no way of knowing which bottles were from which batch, so we sent out letters notifying all werewolves who were relying on Wolfsbane for this month to report to turn themselves in or be declared non-compliant for the month of November."

"What?" Remus asked. "This is ludicrous! Severus Snape brews my Wolfsbane and—"

"Severus Snape brews a supply of Wolfsbane on a monthly basis. It is not destined for any particular werewolf. He supplies the potion and informs us that you have compensated him for a number of bottles."

His stomach was churning. "So you're telling me—"

"I'm telling you that the Wolfsbane may or may not work properly this month, depending on whether you have had doses of the tainted batch—don't worry, Remus, we've had poison experts on this all day and we are almost certain that the tainted potion is simply rendered ineffective, not dangerous. Regardless, you need to give yourself over to us this month."

"No notice, no warning, nothing," Remus snapped. "Is this—"

"We sent the notice," Lara replied. "And we have been trying to get a valid address from you for four months."

"And I've told you I don't have one!"

"And we've given you the information about Ministry housing!" She stood, shoving the chair back from the desk. "I'm not arguing with you, Remus. I have too much to do. You may turn yourself in, or you may decline to do so. The choice is yours. If you wish to be noted as compliant this month, I need you to sign yourself over."

He stared at the parchment, his mouth dry. There was really no choice at all. "All right," he whispered, his voice sticking in his throat. Reaching for the quill, he signed his name, his hand shaking.

"Robe off, and on the scale," she told him. "There's a box behind the screen for your belongings."

Feeling numb, he stepped behind the screen and undressed. When Lara came back, she glanced in the empty box and sighed.

"Are you ever going to cooperate with me the first time I ask you to?" she asked, whisking his clothes and shoes into the box. "Where's your wand?"

"On the bed. Why are you putting my robe in that box?"

"You want it back, don't you?"

"I want it back now."

"You're not allowed the robe while you're in custody."

"I'm allowed it while I'm walking to my cell, aren't I?"

"No," she replied, pointing at the scale again.

"No?" he repeated as she took a reading.

"No. I'll seal the box while you're in this room, and you'll get it back after the full moon."

"But—"

"Lie down."

"Why?"

"Are you declining the examination?"

"What if I do?"

"Then you sign a waiver releasing the Ministry from responsibility for any injury you sustain while in our custody."

He hesitated.

"Either lie down or decline," she said. "Those are your options."

"I decline. Since when do I have to leave my robe here?"

"Since Minister Davis made that stipulation last week. He said the staff was spending too much time getting the werewolves processed into their cells and that was one of his changes to the policy. You may have one of the blankets from the shelf to cover yourself with."

He stared at her as she bent over her desk, scribbling on a piece of paper. This was a nightmare. This was a miserable nightmare and he needed to wake up from it.

"I need you to sign here," Lara was saying as she looked at him again. Her eyes swept him from head to toe as she put the quill and parchment into his hands. "It's a document stating that you declined the examination and thus waive the Ministry's responsibility for your health or injuries."

He skimmed the parchment, barely aware when a scratchy blanket dropped around his shoulders. Still feeling hollow, he signed his name on the document and Lara removed it to his folder.

"Everything will be fine," she told him as she opened the door.

As he stepped into the corridor wrapped in the blanket, he thought that the situation couldn't get much further from 'fine'.

"Guard!" Lara called, and a pock-marked young wizard appeared. "Remus Lupin, case number 33795009. Cell 463."

The wizard took the folder and gestured for Remus to follow. Remus did, too numb to protest. As they rounded a corner, he almost ran into Diana. For a moment, his eyes lingered on hers, but the shame of her seeing him like this turned his eyes to the floor.

"Remus?" she whispered as she reached for Remus' face. "What are you doing? I thought—"

"I'm handing myself over, like everyone else," Remus replied, jerking away from her touch again. He hurried to catch up with the guard again, wishing once more that he would wake up from this nightmare.

"But why?"

He glanced sideways and saw that she was hurrying along after them. Just go away, he thought desperately. She didn't go. "Circumstances," he replied aloud, hoping his short answer would deter her.

"Do you need anything?" she asked. "Is there anything I need to do for you?"

Just go away. "No."

She didn't turn back, but followed him all the way into the cell. He tried to ignore her as he moved to the back of the cell and sank onto the pile of straw. Like an animal. She followed him, sinking to the floor beside him. "Remus?" Her voice was accompanied by a gentle hand.

He couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes.

"Please don't shut me out," she said, sliding her arm around his back.

"Just go," he whispered.

"Why?" she asked, and from the corner of his eye, he saw her lips quirk up into a brief smile. "Something pressing you have to do?"

He drew his knees to his chest and leaned against the wall, the cold seeping through the stone and the blanket. "I don't want you here," he murmured, closing his eyes. He didn't want anyone seeing him like this, least of all her.

"Come here." She wrapped her arms around him, and he felt the gentle pressure of her pulling him towards her. On the one hand, he wanted to lie in her arms and cry like a baby. On the other, he wanted her to leave while he was still holding onto the last shred of his dignity and composure.

"Please just go," he whispered.

"You don't chase someone away when you're going to be alone for the next three days," she chided. "Right now, you cling to whatever kindness anyone offers you, because it's going to have to last you through this."

He snorted and finally turned to look at her. "Are you trying to make me feel better or worse?"

"Better," she said with a smile, urging him towards her again. This time, he let her pull him into her arms, but as she stroked his hair, he felt his control slipping further.

"Why aren't you with Edward?" he asked, still clutching at pride.

"Edward's asleep," she answered, pressing his head into the shallow valley between her small breasts. "That's the best thing I can do for him—make sure he goes to sleep. Are you cold?"

He realized he was trembling and made a conscious effort not to. "No," he whispered hoarsely.

"Frightened then," she said, tightening her arms around him. "I wish you were cold. I could do more about cold than frightened."

He was trembling again, and this time he couldn't stop it, no matter how he tried. Why couldn't he convince people to leave him be? The sympathy and concern were always enough to push him over the edge when he was holding on by a thread.

"Where's Robbie?" he asked, trying to distract himself from the situation.

"I left him with a neighbor," Diana replied. "When I saw how crowded the waiting room was, I was glad I'd left him."

There was a knock at the door and a voice called in, "Ma'am? You'll have to leave."

"I'm coming," she answered, leaning down, kissing Remus' forehead. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do for you? Nothing I need to take care of?"

He hesitated. "Will you tell someone I'm here?"

"Who?"

"Do you know what time it is?"

"Guard?" Diana called. "Do you have the time?"

"Five 'til five," he answered. "All visitors—"

"Must be gone by five," she muttered along with the guard, then smiled at Remus. "Five 'til five," she repeated.

"Arthur Weasley," Remus said. "He works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office. He should be here still. If he isn't, will you send an owl to Hogwarts? To Dumbledore?"

"All right," she agreed. "Is there anything else?"

"No." She lifted a hand to caress his cheek, and he turned to kiss her palm. "Thank you," he whispered.

"You're welcome," she replied, brushing her lips against his. She smiled again, though there were tears in her eyes, and stood. "I'll see you later."

He nodded, a lump in his throat preventing him from speaking.

"Good night," she whispered.

"Good night."

When the door shut behind her, the cell seemed darker and colder than it had been. He let out a slow, shuddering breath and leaned his head against the wall. Three days. He was going to be here all night, then all day tomorrow, and all day Wednesday. The full moon was Friday night and…

He felt ill as he realized what that meant. He would be there all weekend, too, because the requirement would be until Saturday morning, twelve hours after the full moon. Of course the office wouldn't be open on Saturday morning, which meant that it would be Monday before he would be returning to headquarters.

"Shit," he hissed, leaning his head on his knees, trying to ward off the sense of desolation. He didn't know how long he sat like that before he gave in and lay on the straw pallet, and he didn't know how long he lay on the straw before he heard a familiar voice outside his door.

"Remus?"

Lara Berkeley was one of many people he didn't want to see or talk to.

"Remus, answer me."

"What?" he asked, his voice hollow as it echoed off the stone walls.

That was apparently as good as an invitation for Lara; keys rattled in the door and the door swung open and she walked to the back of the cell, crouching beside him. "How are you doing?" she asked.

"Are you here to tell me I can go home?"

"No."

"Then not nearly as good as I could be."

She patted his shoulder and smiled. "Other than having to be here, how are you doing?"

He just shook his head. "It's a prison cell," he snapped. "It's cold, it's dark, it's boring and it's lonely. Actually, it's worse than a prison cell because at least in a prison, I'd have a proper bed." He started to drape his arm over his face but thought better of it—he was loath to leave the protection of the blanket, however scratchy it may be. "Maybe next month I should just murder someone and get myself sentenced to Azkaban. It would be better than this."

"You don't really mean that," she said, sounding alarmed.

"No."

She was petting him. That was the only word he could think of to describe the slow, methodic caress of his shoulder. She was petting him like he was a dog, and damned if part of him wasn't grateful for the contact.

"I owe you an apology," she said. "I didn't intend to be so snappish earlier. We were trying to get everyone processed. I didn't want anyone who surrendered voluntarily to be cited for non-compliance because we weren't working fast enough. I could have been a little less harsh with you."

He was going to have to take lessons from Severus about how to hold a grudge. The anger was one of the last things holding his sanity together, and she was taking that from him now. "I understand," he muttered.

"Are you all right?" she asked again.

He glared at her. "Are you this concerned about all the werewolves or just those of us you deem unable to handle the strain?" he asked.

She shifted so that she was sitting on the floor instead of kneeling. "I am concerned about all of you," she replied. "Do I have special concerns about some of you? Yes. Those of you who sit in my office, the ones I've had the most contact with, yes—I'm more concerned about the ones I know on a more personal level. I'm not the only one who is making visits this evening. Patricia and Deborah and Brian are too. You can't work with someone for four months without developing a more intimate concern for him." She smoothed his hair from his face. "And, I have to admit that I'm more concerned about some of you than others. You know Edward Murphy, don't you?"

Remus nodded.

"I'm particularly concerned about him because he's so young. He's not quite the youngest, but close to it. All the children concern me. They're so vulnerable, and really too young to be away from their parents anyway. There are a few who are very old and they concern me too because I always wonder if they'll survive the transformation. It's hard enough on a healthy young adult, but the body can only take so much abuse before it gives in." She smiled, her hand lingering at his jaw. "And then there are the ones like you. You give me every reason in the world to like you, completely separate from my general sympathy. I'd like to think that under other circumstances, we might be friends. I'm usually very anxious to hear what you have to say, because you think of the things no one else thinks of—or else no one else bothers to tell me. Sometimes I think I've begun to suffer from the malady that makes other people only want to tell me what they think I want to hear."

This wasn't the first time he'd wanted to hate her but couldn't. He wanted to blame Lara Berkeley personally for every rotten regulation the Ministry of Magic forced upon werewolves. He wanted to hold her responsible for the fact that the floors were hard and the walls were cold and the full moon fell at an inconvenient time that meant he was going to be trapped here for twice as long as was necessary. He wanted to blame someone, and she would have been a convenient person to blame.

He couldn't, though. It wasn't her fault any more than it was his.

"Are you all right?" she asked again. "I know this came as a shock. You didn't have much time to prepare for it—"

"I didn't have any time to prepare for it."

"If you can't provide us with a more direct address than care of Albus Dumbledore, then don't expect sympathy if you don't know these things further in advance." There was no sympathy in her voice that time. "I apologize that some of the potion was tainted, and the Ministry will be looking into that, but we had very little notice ourselves."

Remus nodded. He supposed he couldn't even hold her responsible for that.

"If you need something, just ask," Lara said, removing her hand from his face. "If you want something, ask. The guards have been instructed to be accommodating within reason."

"Explain to me again why I can't have a book or something to keep me occupied?"

A faint smile touched Lara's lips. "You didn't bring one," she answered. He opened his mouth to protest, but realized it wouldn't do any good. "I'm sure I can find one to bring tomorrow. Any specific requests?"

He shrugged, not knowing how to answer that question. If he'd known this was going to happen and that he would be allowed a book, he would have made a trip to Flourish and Blotts before he came. "I don't know."

"A novel?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Mystery? Adventure?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Remus, really. I want to bring you something to read tomorrow. It isn't often that there's anything I can do, but I can do that much. Don't you want to tell me what you'd like to read?"

"It doesn't matter. Really."

"All right!" she announced. "Trashy romance novels it is."

In spite of himself, he laughed. It felt out of place to be laughing while a prisoner. "Mystery," he said. "Something thick."

"I'll bring you a dozen novels," she said. "And if you finish those, I'll bring a dozen more."

She stood, and he looked up at her as she dusted off her robe. "Anything else?"

"No."

She rubbed her arms and frowned around at the cell. "It's freezing down here," she said. "Are you cold?"

"A little."

"Guard!" she called. The door opened and a guard poked his head inside. "Will you get Remus an extra blanket, please? And see if anyone else wants one as well. It's cold in here."

"Yes, ma'am."

The door closed again and she turned back to Remus. "Do you want me to cast a Warming Charm?"

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her no, but he reminded himself that there was no benefit to cutting off his own nose to spite his face. He turned away from her again. "Please," he muttered. The humiliation, it seemed, knew no bounds. It was odd that the little things were the ones that were the worst—having her comment about a razor knick on his neck, relying on someone else to cast a simple Warming Charm, asking for the time instead of looking at a clock. Somehow, those were indignities that seemed far worse than being imprisoned in such demeaning circumstances.

She tapped her wand on the wall, and after a moment, a warmth began to seep from the stones. "I'll see you tomorrow," she told him. "Try to get some sleep."

It was the same thing Diana had said. Maybe they knew what they were talking about.

As she reached for the door, the guard returned with a pile of extra blankets, and she took one from him. "Here," she said, shaking it out and spreading it over Remus. "Is that better?"

"Yes. Thank you."

She crouched beside him, patting his face again. "Good night."

"Good night."

When the door closed behind her, the silence threatened to suffocate him. There was a marked difference from that first night when sobs and wails had bounded from all the walls. Of course, for many of the werewolves, this would be the fifth time they'd passed a full moon in Ministry holding cells. He supposed that everything grew easier over time.

He closed his eyes, trying to take Diana's and Lara's advice, but sleep was an elusive nymph, tempting him but never allowing him to catch it. Every so often, someone would ask the guard for the time, and the guard would answer. Seven o'clock, a quarter 'til eight, nine-fifteen, five after ten. Seconds, minutes, hours—time had little meaning in a dark cell with nothing to speed it on its way.

Some time after the guard replied that it was half past midnight, and before anyone asked again, Remus finally found solace in a fitful sleep filled with dreams that he was a pet dog whose owner had lost interest in him.

A/N: waves to everyone Guess what! I just finished writing TWMD, so those updates will start coming along more regularly tomorrow. I have a bit of editing to do in the next couple of chapters that I have to post, then I think I'll be good for one a week at least (more once I get past a couple of humps in this story-- that darned old criss-crossing timeline thing is a challenge, but I think it only needs to coincide twice more.) Anyway, hope you're all having a fantastic October so far!

DiscombobulatedDrummer: Thanks for your encouragement. I'm glad you're enjoying it!

excessivelyperky: I guess the point I was trying to make didn't come across very well-- Remus is self conscious because Edward is modelling himself after him, and Remus is acutely aware of that. Thanks for your comments!

Cecelle: Thank you! As a writer with no kids and very little experience with them, I'm having a hard time writing those scenes sometimes. It's a delicate balance for me to try to strike, and I do want Remus to get it right. It's always such a big task when you know that how well the characters do depends on how well you do as a writer.

duj: I was wondering the same thing about Fenrir. I would think that having someone like him around would give all werewolves a worse name than they deserve. Thanks also for the comment about the scenes with Diana and the kids. I stress over those interactions so much.

Jackline: It still goes along with Tomorrow in a manner of speaking. This is sort of what's going on between the chapters of Tomorrow. Every now and then, they cross paths again, but not very often really.

hopgoblen: I'm sorry you're disappointed. Really, there isn't going to be a love triangle, and there isn't a lot of 'action' to this story. It's more of an exploration of a social system.

tall oaks: Thank you! I'm glad to have you back ;)

HumanTales: Coincidence? Moi? looks around Never. ;) I'm glad you enjoyed the Arthur scene. I felt like I needed that one in there.

Thanks to everyone for reading, and thanks for leaving comments. It's always such a thrill to see them sitting in my email.

And, incidentally, HPROXMYSOX: if you read this, post something, will ya? I think you said you wre in Louisiana and I've been wondering how you rode through the storms.

Beta thanks go to larilee, who is simply awesome!