This Beastly Salvation

Chapter Nineteen: A Seven-Pointed Star

Author's Note: I'm aliiiiiiiive. Seriously was a bit touch and go there lololol. Great news: I have a tentative diagnosis for my hands! It'll take a lot of physiotherapy and patience but there might be improvement. And in the meantime, I'm finally not sick for the first time in two months, so hopefully back to regular writing! Yay! Love you all, thank you for your patience, enjoy this espionage & tension chapter.

This one was way too long for me to force my beta reader to rush through editing it, so if you notice any major issues, feel free to let me know! I'll tweak it for her edits when she does have a chance to look at it. Please be nice if you are giving feedback, though! This is my baby and I write it for fun. :)

October 10, 1996

"Any luck, sir?" Remus asked, glancing up at Lucius as he entered the cellar.

Seeing the other wizard brought with it a sharp reminder of just how real Remus's dream had felt the night before last—but it didn't throw the younger wizard off the way it had the day before. A night of Lucius-free dreams seemed to have dulled and distanced the memory a bit, not entirely erasing the discomfort, but soothing it. It hadn't actually been real, after all, no matter what Remus's body would have him believe.

"It was wise of you to tell me the truth, mutt," the Death Eater spoke over Remus's thoughts. He cast another of his signature feigned smiles at his captive, all barely-turned lips and momentarily squinting eyes, but there was something hesitant about it.

"I try not to be an idiot all the time, sir," Remus joked, walking toward the bars with slumped shoulders and pocketed hands. The light tone did not feel like as much of an act today.

"Try being the operative word, I'm sure," Lucius sneered, reaching his hand out and passing the dinner bag to Remus. While there would usually be some tension in their closeness, Lucius seemed too distracted to produce it, barely offering Remus a cursory glance before beginning his daily enchantments.

Remus stood still, watching as Lucius worked. It had been a slow night and day without his captor. Remus had spent an inordinate amount of it trying to piece together what, exactly, Tonks and the others might have guessed about his current situation. Could they have guessed at Lucius's unexpected… proclivities by sound alone? Or had the werewolf and his captor simply gone on sounding like a couple of schoolboys egging each other on? Or—and Remus wasn't sure if this was better or worse—perhaps his comrades had sensed something in Lucius's tone from the very start, and Remus had been the last one to clue in. All of the options seemed grim.

And then there was Greyback's spectre, hovering at the edge of Remus's vision whenever the light flickered. He was there again, a hulking figure waiting to lunge forward when Lucius's voice interrupted Remus's thoughts once more.

"Do you know when the safe house was last used?"

Remus blinked, refocusing on the figure in front of him.

"Uh, no, I mean, not since before I was cap—not since before I arrived here," Remus corrected himself, not wanting to repeat their ongoing argument about whether he had been captured or handed himself over.

Lucius sniffed. "Who was in it before you arrived here, then?"

"I don't know," Remus replied. "I really don't. I was the secret-keeper, not the inn-keeper. Could've been anyone. Did you find any names? They'll probably be the most recent."

"We did," Lucius snapped, a little too quick on the draw. "But it would've been useful to confirm it with you."

"Well, I'm sure the Dark Lord is pleased with you either way, sir," Remus continued, allowing himself the satisfaction of placing just a little too much emphasis on Voldemort's self-made title.

"For now," Lucius grunted before turning and beginning to head back to the door.

"Y—you're leaving already?" Remus stuttered, tightening his grip on the food bag.

Lucius stilled, lowering one of his feet back down onto the floor. "Would you prefer that I didn't, mutt?"

Remus froze, realizing much too late how desperate he had just sounded. What had he been thinking? Of all the times to stop paying attention to his own actions—

"I just worry that I might be less inclined to be helpful if you make a habit of keeping me cooped up in here, sir," Remus answered in a clumsy attempt at recovery. "Although you're the expert."

Lucius let out a quiet snort. "I am," he replied in a low drawl. "Which is why I'm confident that you'll be just fine as long as I run you harder next time. Burn off all that pent up energy."

Surely, despite all of his density, the Dark Wizard must have heard the double entendre in those words. Remus leant back and away from the bars as if some space would allow him to better comprehend the strange intensity of Lucius's response.

"Alright," he murmured, taking a full step backwards. "If you say so, sir."

"I do," the other man snapped, and then he was on and out and Remus was back to being mind-numbingly alone.

October 12, 1996

New Moon, Solar Eclipse

Lucius stared down at the paper, head buzzing with a poisonous mix of anger, desperation, and utter confusion. He had been trying to crack the coded papers they'd found in Hogsmeade for three days, but the only thing he had to show for it was the dawning realization that the Dark Lord had, in fact, been quite right to doubt Lucius's ability to figure the puzzle out on his own.

The words remained scrambled in front of him, appearing to be nothing more than a scattered mess of random phrases and nouns written on the page as if they'd been written by a fourth year student practicing their handwriting instead of taking notes. At one point Lucius brought in a different letter they'd copied off of an apprehended owl some months earlier, hoping to compare the codes, but it had only made things worse. Lucius could spot no rhyme nor reason and none of what he'd tried or researched—surreptitiously, through late night visits to his library—had had any effect.

But that was not an option.

Lucius grimaced as he stood, grabbing two documents—one set of papers from Hogsmeade and one apprehended letter—and pinching them under his arm. He had made himself a makeshift office in the guest room, transfiguring and moving a few things so that he could cloister himself away from the prying eyes of the Death Eaters, and he had stuck to that plan quite well, only making brief visits to check in on his captive and grab some food of his own. Unfortunately, his isolation had clearly done nothing to help. He had to try something new.

The house was relatively quiet as he made his way to the cellar, papers and leash tucked firmly into a pocket inside of his robe, wand clasped tightly in his hand. It was a Saturday, always a relatively quiet day for the Death Eaters and Narcissa, as many of them dealt with the kind of domestic duties that prevented one from torturing and murdering. Lucius would be, as far as he knew, completely alone with the werewolf.

That seemed… ill-advised. Although he was loathe to admit it, Lucius knew very well that his codebreaking attempts had not been helped by his wandering mind over the last few days. His experience with the werewolf in the stable had mixed a little too well with the breakthrough he'd had when talking with Narcissa, and he had found himself plagued by imagined scenarios in the days since. The werewolf pushed up against a wall, whimpering… the werewolf bound and trying to struggle free while simultaneously begging Lucius for more… the werewolf looking up at Lucius with watering eyes… Lucius didn't believe he was enough of an idiot to act upon any of those imaginings, but that belief did little to remove the thoughts from his head.

It wasn't as if such activities were frowned upon by the Death Eaters. He was far from the only one with a darker sexual appetite, and it wasn't particularly odd for two men to engage in such… activities. Hell, he'd done some of it before with Narcissa—but those were interests to be explored with fellow Pure Bloods, not a grovelling halfbreed imprisoned in converted cold storage. He was meant to be seeking out the submission of a prisoner, not a… not anything else.

So it wasn't exactly surprising when Lucius realized that he was standing at the cellar door with no recollection of how he'd gotten there. He swallowed and aimed his wand at the lock. Perhaps spending more than five minutes with the werewolf would remind Lucius of just how insufferable the mutt was, and Lucius would find his fixation somewhat lessened. There were far more important things to focus on, anyway.

The papers shifted in his robe as he cast the door open and stepped inside.

Lupin was leaning up against the bars, facing away from the door, staring at his wall. There was a weight hanging in the air, draping itself around the werewolf's shoulders, that would suggest he had been talking to himself.

"Have you already lost your mind? I thought you'd last a few more days, at least," Lucius remarked, shutting the door behind him, trying to ignore the way his heart began to speed up as he walked into the room.

The werewolf slowly turned to look at his captor. "Not quite, sir," he replied with a hesitant smile.

The ever-present rushing in Lucius's ears got indescribably louder when their eyes met. The images threatened to start flashing through his mind again.

"I'm not sure if I should be disappointed or relieved," Lucius pushed on, attempting to sound as calm and collected as possible as he approached the cell.

"I feel the same about your arrival. Even I was starting to wonder if I might go mad without some kind of stimulation, sir."

The words did not help the storm roiling inside of Lucius.

"Oh, I'll give you stimulation, dog, don't you worry," the Death Eater spat back, pausing several paces away from the bars. The sir felt no less jarring today, every time Lupin said it, like a small spark that spread across Lucius's shoulder-blades.

Something dangerously close to a smirk flashed on the werewolf's face, but it was gone just as quickly as Lucius had noticed it, and far too fast for him to enact any consequences, so he just narrowed his eyes as Lupin began to speak.

"Had any luck with what you found in Hogsmeade, sir?" the werewolf asked, straightening his spine and rocking back on his heels.

Lucius grimaced. He hadn't told Lupin what he'd been working on, but of course, the werewolf wasn't entirely incapable of rational thought. He'd clearly put two and two together, and Lucius couldn't exactly fault him for that.

"I'm afraid not," Lucius admitted in a caustic voice, "which is exactly why I'm here."

"Not just because you missed my company?" Lupin teased, leaning closer to the bars.

Lucius's grimace deepened along with his desire to wipe that taunting look right off his prisoner's face. "Being away from you has been an absolute delight," he snarled, "but I'm afraid you'll have to try and be useful again, now."

"Ah," Lupin offered a crooked half-smile, bowing his head for an instant before turning and walking to the back of his cage. "Happy to oblige, sir, so long as it gets me out of this place."

It took Lucius a moment to remember what his prisoner was doing as the werewolf strolled away and bent down. He was getting the collar, of course. He turned, watching Lucius with open curiosity as he tightened the leather around his neck.

"Have you forgotten my leash?" Lupin asked, looking genuinely surprised.

Lucius felt his stomach drop, deeply annoyed to have been caught staring.

"Of course not," he snapped, moving to unlock the cell.


Remus didn't move until Lucius gestured at him to come forward, and even then he stood still as the other man clipped the leash to his collar. Lucius seemed to be bristling with some mixture of annoyance and embarrassment as he did so, but Remus kept his mouth shut as he followed his captor out of the cellar, not wanting to rock the boat after so many days stuck inside.

Lucius's demeanour—short-tempered, bitter, and easily flustered—would suggest that something about the letters had genuinely stumped him, and that added a sweetness to the relief fluttering in Remus's chest as the two men left the kitchen and cellar behind, eventually making their way out into the fresh air.

The weather should've felt bleak, the mist so heavy that it seemed like it was raining, but something about the chill and petrichor hanging in the air was refreshing to Remus.

"Are we headed back to the lake today, sir?" the wizard asked once they were out on the path, not entirely sure how he'd feel about going back to the waterfront after everything that had happened on their last visit.

"No," Lucius replied, a little too short. "We're taking another route."

"Alright, sir," Remus replied, resisting the urge to pull a mocking face. "Would you still like me to lead?"

It was perhaps unwise for Remus to remind his captor of a command that he'd clearly forgotten about, but that realization came to Remus too late, as Lucius was already spinning round to glare at him with stormy eyes.

"Be my guest," the Death Eater grimaced, nearly bearing his teeth as he gestured for Remus to move forward. The younger wizard offered an insincere smile and nod as he walked, inwardly cursing his decision to speak up. It was much worse to feel Lucius's eyes boring into him from behind than to watch the wizard stomp ahead.

"Did you ask that out of self-preservation, or a desire to impress me?" Lucius asked, seeming to sense Remus's train of thought.

"Which option would be more displeasing to you, sir?" Remus countered, glancing over his shoulder.

"Both," Lucius answered, nose wrinkling with the smallest amount of disgust as he looked Remus over. "Now walk. Head toward the outbuildings."

"Yes, sir," Remus complied. Lucius kept the pace, and the two men walked in relative silence as they crossed the great lawn, Lucius only choosing to speak once they'd reached another fork in the path. He instructed Remus to turn left this time, heading South down a long stretch of gravel road that appeared to extend the full length of the Malfoy estate.

Remus could feel the vortex of emotions the other wizard seemed to be caught in as they walked, like a lightning storm roiling and lashing out to strike Remus occasionally. It was disquieting not to be able to see Lucius's face or body language, to get a better guess of what kind of emotions he was grappling with. The storm somehow felt denser than it had before, more complex than the unfettered irritation or enraged lust that Lucius had approached him with in the past.

"You'll have to give me something more up-to-date next time, dog," Lucius muttered.

"That becomes more difficult the longer I'm here for, sir," Remus replied, flexing his fingers in his pockets and looking up at the sky. A small flock of birds chased each other from one copse of trees to the next.

"Perhaps you should've thought of that before you had yourself captured," Lucius retorted.

"Ah, yes, one would think I would've planned for that, wouldn't they?" Remus replied, letting out a small laugh from his nose as he refocused on the uneven ground beneath his feet.

"Particularly since I can't read the letters you led me to," Lucius continued. His voice suddenly sounded odd, and Remus couldn't quite place it until he saw a blur to his right side. He glanced up to find Lucius there, walking in step with him for the first time. Remus did his best to mask his startle, swallowing and looking ahead again.

"I told you, I was the secret-keeper, not the inn-keeper. It would be idiotic for me to know how to decode everything."

"Even if that was true, you'd have to know how it was coded in the first place," Lucius pressed. Remus could see the man clenching his jaw and sticking his nose up in the air out of the corner of his eye. It was the expression of a petulant lord unused to speaking directly to peasants, and that was almost enough to make Remus laugh.

"I'm sure I would," Remus replied. "If I were the one writing the letters."

Lucius quieted for a moment, lowering his head and looping the leash around his hand again. The action ignited a small spark of anxiety in Remus, flashing back to being yanked forward by the leash at the lake—but Lucius's tone was far too soft to be threatening when he spoke again.

"This isn't a game, fleabag. Surely you know that? You'll die much sooner if the Dark Lord loses his patience."

It took everything in Remus not to stop dead in his tracks. He flared his nostrils for a moment, running his tongue along his teeth as he gathered his thoughts.

"Well, that works nicely for me, doesn't it?" Remus asked, offering his captor a dry smile as he turned to look at him. "I'd rather that than be weaponized."

Lucius made an angry sound, somewhere between a growl and a grunt, and scowled as he met Remus's gaze. "I don't believe that, mutt. You wouldn't risk dying when you think you're going to be saved."

The corner of Remus's mouth twitched. "But what if I'm not? Saved, I mean? Wouldn't it be better to die?"

"Surely it's too soon for you to be making that plan."

"Why? Because your own life is at risk if you fail? Your life doesn't matter to me, Lucius. "

Both men paused, staring each other down. Remus knew that wasn't entirely true, but he wasn't about to correct himself.

Remus waited for the fallout, certain it would come in one great blow, that he would find himself bloodied and broken on the ground—but it didn't come at all. Instead, he watched as several emotions—memories, perhaps?—flashed across Lucius's face, knitting his brows and clouding his eyes until he settled on one.

"If you cared that little, you'd already be serving the Dark Lord," Lucius said, lips twitching.

Remus smirked and looked at the ground for a moment.

"Am I wrong?"

"I don't think you're seeing the full picture," Remus answered, looking back up. "It's your lives against dozens of Muggles'—the lives of wizards who've already betrayed their humanity, weighed over the lives of the innocent. It's an easy choice, sir, no matter how much effort you've put in to keeping me alive for your own selfish purposes."

Lucius tsked and tightened his grip on the leash, although Remus wasn't sure it was intentional.

"I wouldn't let you turn anyone, if that's what you're worried about."

Remus's eyebrows raised in surprise again. "What was that?"

"I wouldn't let you turn anyone," Lucius replied in a serious voice, straightening his back and lifting his head to look at Remus again. "I'd kill anyone before they could become a creature like you."

Remus couldn't hold back the pained laugh that erupted out of him. "Ah, well, that's a relief, isn't it?"

"Wouldn't that be your biggest fear? After what was done to you?"

"I…"

Fenrir's face was back in Remus's field of vision, enraged and bloodthirsty, utterly lost to his own feral madness. It was a terrifying image, made even more frightening by how real it felt despite all the years Remus had spent trying to dampen the memory. It had been so grey and blurry for so long.

"I can't say that knowing they'll be killed makes the carnage any less off-putting, sir," Remus confessed. He could hear the tremble in his own voice as he spoke.

"Would it be better if the Dark Lord simply cast an Imperius Charm and gave you your wand back? You could preserve your humanity, then."

"Or perhaps it would be better if he simply let me walk home and go on with my life? That's a fantasy, sir, and you know it. Where would the entertainment be in that?"

"True," Lucius agreed. "And he does like his entertainment."

"I know it all too well," Remus replied with an involuntary wince.

Lucius didn't speak for a moment, simply making a quiet hum of agreement. It was more unsettling than some quippy reply. Remus frowned, turning back to the road and bringing a hand up to rub at his neck. That was another issue with being left in the cellar for too long—whatever resistance his skin built up to the leather would fade away, leaving him to squirm with discomfort when it was put back on.

"Is it bothering you?" Lucius asked, his voice still tired.

"The collar? I'm afraid so, sir," Remus answered, doing his best to return his tone to his regular confidence. "It's never been particularly comfortable."

"Take it off, then."

Remus hesitated.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Take it off," Lucius repeated in a firmer tone. "There's no point in you getting injured."

"I…" Remus's hand strayed to the collar's buckle. "That seems unwise. What if someone sees us?"

"No one comes out this far," Lucius snapped in dismissal. "My father's ghost roams near his house. He's unbearable."

Remus's eyes widened, and he finally stopped walking, turning to face the other wizard fully. Lucius paused, an eyebrow raised. He was maintaining his self-important carriage, but there was something in the way his eyes flickered in and out of contact with Remus's that suggested he was wavering.

"Wouldn't he be even more unbearable if he were to see you taking a werewolf for a stroll, sir?" Remus asked. There were a hundred questions rushing through his mind, but none of them felt more appropriate to ask in the moment.

"It seems as though there's even less I can do in death to please him than I could in life. Take off the collar and give it to me."

Remus did not need to be told again. He bit his tongue, withholding any more confused remarks as he undid the collar and brought it down to his chest.

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather just have me hold it—"

"Give it to me," Lucius snapped, reaching out his hand. Remus gave in, reaching his bare hand out to Lucius's gloved one. The Dark Wizard didn't make any movement to ease the process along, so Remus was forced to bring the collar straight to the palm of the other man's hand. His fingers made contact with the raised mound near Lucius's thumb, and some distant memory from Divination class surfaced. The Mount of Venus. An indicator of love and wealth.

Lucius flinched when they touched, grabbing the collar and shoving it into his pocket. Remus could hear paper crinkling inside the pocket in response, but chose not to comment on the brief look of displeasure that showed on Lucius's face.

"Keep walking," the Death Eater instructed, nodding back down the path. "You don't want to linger here."

"I—"

"Move," Lucius snarled.

So Remus moved, doing his best not to get light-headed from the simple act of walking unfettered. It felt foreign, almost intimate, to feel the damp air against his throat. He zipped up his jacket higher, trying to refocus.

Sure enough, a great house appeared on their right side only moments later. It was smaller than the manor itself, but still stately, built in the same style and likely not long after the original home. It was shuttered now, dark and agitated against the grey sky, vines crawling over its exterior like so many watchful snakes. Some part of Remus, the part that Sirius used to encourage to come out more often, wanted to use his newfound freedom to force his way inside and discover what was so difficult about Abraxas Malfoy—but one glance at Lucius, an evaluation of his tense shoulders and restless eyes, was enough to stifle Remus's impulse. Somehow, he had made enough leeway with Lucius to be let off his leash. He didn't need to undo that now.


The former Malfoy patriarch's house might as well have been a massive tombstone looming over them, repeatedly hissing at Lucius to remember his own mortality. It took everything in him not to look down and scurry past like a schoolboy rushing away from an angry teacher. Images of his father's sickly green skin and burnt nostrils flickered through his mind's eye. The Dragon Pox had been slow and cruel.

"Do I—do I just keep walking from here?" Lupin cut through the memories. Lucius glanced up to find his prisoner a few steps ahead, glancing back with a distracted expression.

"Have I told you to stop?" Lucius snapped.

"No, sir," the dog replied with something dangerously close to an exasperated sigh, but then he was turning and picking up his pace, and Lucius had to stay in step with him.

For a moment, he habitually went to tighten the leash, feeling a wave of anxiety rise up in him—but there was no leash to tug on. Lucius's stomach dropped again, the same way it had when he'd let Lupin go.

Part of him had been frightened by his choice. It was risky and he hadn't planned to do it, but he had also seen how fatigued the werewolf was and he knew the advantage he held simply by being the only one with a wand. The half-breed had already told Lucius before that he was unathletic in his human form, and Lucius had every reason to believe him, based on Remus's looks alone.

So Lucius toyed with the papers and leash in his jacket as he walked beside his prisoner. There was almost something charming about the way the werewolf walked in the afternoon fog, his footsteps tentative and exploratory, back held in a slight hunch. Lucius tried not to stare for too long, not interested in whatever sharp remark the werewolf might make if he noticed, but when Lucius did catch a flash of the creature's face, it was… off.

It wasn't as though this was the first time Lupin's aggravatingly upbeat act had broken in the last two weeks, but this expression seemed different. It wasn't anger or desperation or grief. It almost seemed like a kind of distressed confusion.

"Surely having your collar taken off isn't that upsetting for you, mutt?" Lucius finally spoke up, unable to contain his morbid curiosity any longer.

The werewolf took a sharp inhale through his nose, looking over to Lucius with a tired, ineffectual half-smile. "No, sir," he agreed. "It's not."

"Then what is?" Lucius asked, voice more gruff than he'd meant it to be.

"I can't imagine it would be of interest to you, sir."

"If it's going to be distracting you from doing your job," Lucius replied in a warning tone, "then it is."

Lupin let out a sarcastic laugh and looked away again.

"And my job is what, exactly, in this moment, sir?"

"Trying to remember how good you have it as my prisoner, which in turn will remind you of exactly why you'll be showing me how to decode the documents I have before we return you to your cell."

"Ah," the werewolf replied with a theatrical nod. "I better focus, then."

"It would be advisable," Lucius sneered. "Although I'm not sure you're capable of getting off of whatever train of thought you were just set on."

"Perhaps not," Lupin admitted, shaking some of his hair out of his eyes. "It's been on my mind for a while now."

"It?" Lucius asked, bristling at the possibility that the werewolf seemed to be playing a game with him. "What is it?"

"Fenrir Greyback."

"Greyback?" Lucius exclaimed in genuine surprise.

"Odd, isn't it?" Lupin replied, shrugging his shoulders and tilting his head in admission. "You'd think he would take up less space in my mind, after all this time. I mean, he usually does—take up less space, I mean. But there's something about being here…"

"The Malfoy estate has never been a haven for werewolves, dog," Lucius snarled.

"Obviously not, sir," Lupin replied, the bow of his head just a little too close to pantomime. "What I mean to say is that there's something about being here, so close to V—the Dark Lord—"

Lucius wasn't entirely sure why that self-correction sent such a pleasurable thrill through him, but he didn't try to reject the sensation as it came.

"It's more difficult to ignore the past when it feels like I'm surrounded by it," Lupin finished his thought.

"The Dark Lord didn't order Greyback to attack you."

"No," the prisoner agreed, "but he's ordering him around plenty this days."

"As is his right."

Lucius remembered his prior lapse in self-awareness, his agreement that Vold—the Dark Lord was fond of entertainment. He looked back at the werewolf, but Lupin was still watching the road ahead, as if he was barely affected by his captor's presence.

"I'm struggling to understand it though, sir. What is it about Greyback that gives him the right to maim and kill freely? The Dark Lord has to know his intentions."

"Which intentions are those?" Lucius asked, spotting an opportunity to learn more about what the werewolf knew.

"To raise a werewolf army," Lupin replied with a casual shrug, "and use it to wipe out all of wizarding kind."

Lucius blinked, a small frown curling his lips. He hadn't expected the mutt to say it so directly.

"Ah, yes," Lucius replied, managing to summon a cold smile to mask any further surprise, "the Dark Lord is well aware of that particular ambition. Greyback is daft; he doesn't have enough of a human mind left to string together full sentences, let alone to scheme against the Dark Lord. My Lord is well aware of the werewolf's intentions—and knows exactly how to deal with it."

"Why doesn't he just deal with it now, though? Fenrir's still attacking and turning people regularly—"

"Only people the Dark Lord wants killed or turned," Lucius cut him off.

"How could you possibly know who he is and isn't attacking?" Lupin scoffed. When Lucius didn't speak for a moment, the prisoner looked over to his captor, a hesitant look on his face before he added sir to his question.

Lucius rolled his eyes.

"Just because the Order couldn't keep track of its dogs," Lucius said the word with great emphasis, making sure that the werewolf would know exactly which two canines he was referring to, "doesn't mean we struggle with the same basic tasks, mutt. He's always under surveillance."

"So what is it then, sir? Why is surveillance good enough, rather than extermination?"

"The same reason it's worth it to the Dark Lord to ally with the giants. They're useful in battle, and they'll be easier to catch off guard when it's over."

This was, perhaps, an overstep, just a bit too much information to give to a creature convinced that he was somehow going to be able to report his findings back to the group he was evidently "spying" for—but Lucius couldn't take it back now. He winced and glanced back at his father's house, now nothing but a blurry shadow behind them.

"I'm not sure how long it's been since Fenrir Greyback was caught off guard, sir, but I'm willing to bet that it's been a while."

"I'll be sure to pass along your concerns to the Dark Lord. Or perhaps you're only worried because you'd prefer to take Greyback's place? Become the Dark Lord's favourite puppy?"

This seemed to raise Lupin's hackles. Lucius watched out of the corner of his eyes as the half-breed brought his hands out of his pockets and shook them out at his sides.

"I assure you, that is not what I'm hoping for."

"Then why has it been on your mind for so many days?"

"He's the reason I'm here, isn't he? I wouldn't be nearly as interesting if I was just another half-blood. I wouldn't have been in those woods, and even if I had been, you would've killed me rather than taking me prisoner."

"I suppose that's true," Lucius nodded, "although I suspect the Dark Lord would've let Bella have you first."

"And what would she have done with me, do you think?" Lupin replied quickly. There was a sudden playfulness in his voice.

"Hard to say, really," Lucius played along without thinking, taking in a sharp breath between his teeth as though he were thinking about something particularly painful. "There's a lot of family baggage between you, isn't there?"

"I suppose so," Lupin mused, tilting his head up at the sky, but in a gesture of faux-thoughtfulness rather than genuine contemplation.

"And she is remarkably creative when she wants to be."

"True," he agreed, straightening up and nodding in jest, "you raise a good point. Perhaps I should be grateful to Greyback after all. What's a lifetime of suffering compared to a night with Bellatrix Lestrange?"

Lucius didn't expect to laugh, certainly not genuinely, but it happened anyway. It was a tentative grin accompanied by a bassy chuckle—and Lucius realized too late what was happening, so that he hadn't even managed to stop laughing before he found himself looking over at his captive. The werewolf, who had clearly been struggling to hold back his own laughter, watched in shock for a moment before a tired smile lit up his face.

And then, like magic, the clouds parted.

Lupin's green eyes shone with the sudden light, the grey in his hair and his restored beard flashing like newly polished silver. The diffused afternoon light made his scars look like gentle strokes of watercolour paint on smooth paper.

Lucius didn't move for a moment. Not until Remus broke the spell.

"Well, that's that then. I'll banish it from my mind."

The werewolf cleared his throat and turned away, starting to walk again.

It took Lucius a moment to be able to follow.


Remus clenched his jaw, praying to whatever deities might be paying attention for Lucius to walk slower and to stay out of his line of sight. That look the Dark Wizard had just pulled—bewildered, eyebrows upturned—was far, far too similar to an expression Remus had seen that same face make in his own dreams.

"And what will you think of, instead?" Lucius interrupted Remus's thoughts from just behind him; the gods had apparently listened to Remus's plea.

"Ah, well, you told me to focus on how good I have it, didn't you?" Remus asked, praying again, this time that his voice wouldn't audibly shake as he tried to sort out his thoughts. Lucius's behaviour was eliciting a deep sense of unease in Remus that was seeping through him like syrup in his veins. Despite that, the answers about Greyback had been genuinely calming. It was good to hear a Death Eater's understanding of the situation—for however much that was worth under Voldemort. Remus knew better than to assume that the "Dark Lord" was giving someone as far down the shit list as Lucius the full truth of any situation.

"I did," Lucius replied haltingly.

"And you're not wrong. This moment isn't terrible. There is sunlight and fresh air and I'm guiding my own steps," Remus continued, letting his eyes trace the outline of the grounds around him now. Looking anywhere but at Lucius. "Things that are easy to take for granted."

Lucius said something in response, but Remus wasn't paying attention anymore. He was distracted by the way the long path was coming to an end instead, cut short by a wild field laying on the other side of a T-intersection with another gravel road that ran east to west.

"Is that your land, too, sir?" Remus asked, canting his head toward Lucius but not moving his gaze.

"What?" Lucius asked, sounding almost offended.

"Is that your land, too? In front of us?"

"Why? Planning to go for a run in the brush?"

"Ah, yes, you've caught me, sir," Remus sighed. "I was hoping you'd brought a ball with you."

Lucius made a repulsed sound. "I'm afraid you'll be disappointed then, mutt. I haven't brought you a ball and I won't be letting you run in the fields."

Remus wanted to push, to get clearer answers, but he knew it had already been too overt of a question. His best guess was that the land wasn't part of the estate and that if he'd had his wand with him, he would've been able to cast a revealing charm and discover that the Manor's wards ended just beyond that gravel road. Not that it mattered much—the Order would never be stupid enough to attack the Manor head-on, anyway.

"Perhaps next time," Remus teased. "If I behave myself."

"Exactly. I'm glad you were listening."

Remus had, of course, absolutely not been listening.

"If you turn right at the road, there'll be a bench set into the trees not far down. Head that way."

"Tuckered out already, sir? What happened to having me burn off all my energy?" Remus finally looked back again, emboldened by the flustered affect that he could still hear in his captor's voice.

Lucius's eyes widened and then rapidly narrowed as soon as Remus looked at him. He jutted out his lower jaw and tilted his nose up, glancing off toward the west where he'd told Remus to turn.

"If I am tired, dog, it is strictly from having to spend time with you. I don't care about how much energy you've burnt off. You're going to sit down on that bench and you're going to review the documents and you're going to walk me through how they're to be decoded, and then, if you're good, there's one more reward."

Remus felt his stomach flip, doing his best not to let his paranoia about his captor send his imagination spiralling into a wholly unrealistic direction. Not that any of those options would be a reward, anyway.

"I'll do my best then, sir," Remus replied. He'd meant to keep his tone cheeky, but it came out lower and weaker. Thankfully, if Lucius noticed it, he didn't say anything.

There was a bench exactly where the Death Eater had said it would be. Remus was confused by it at first, until he stood in front of it and faced its view. He could see the foggy outline of some distant, rolling hills if he positioned himself in just the right spot, peeking from between the trees and the tall grasses. Someone had made this sturdy, expensive little thing for the simple opportunity to be quiet and watch nature.

"Sit," Lucius ordered him. The order felt like a cold, sharp blade in Remus's back, and he was surprised to find himself having to mask a disgusted grimace. Far too many powerful wizards had spoken down to him like that.

But Remus listened.

He lowered himself down onto the bench, rolling his shoulders and adjusting his hips, suddenly realizing that he hadn't sat in a proper seat of any kind since his last night in Grimmauld Place.

"Here," Lucius cut in, not wasting any time as he dug the papers out from his pockets and handed them to Remus. The two men seemed to both be working very hard to prevent their eyes from meeting as they completed the pass off. "Refresh your memory."

Remus followed orders again, choosing not to speak as he lifted the two sheafs of parchment in front of him. One set were presumably the documents discovered in Hogsmeade, unfolded but curled with overuse and exposure to the elements. The other was a short letter, creased from being folded up and tucked away.

It took him mere seconds to recognize the handwriting. Although the words had been charmed into gibberish, the writing was still clear and bright, the letters' tails looping elegantly, some strokes skipping occasionally as though the writer had been rushed. Tonks had written this.

"Well?"

Remus swallowed hard, blinking rapidly and looking up to Lucius with a faint twitch of a smile. "It could be two options, sir, depending on how old the letters are. I don't suppose you brought anything to write with, did you?"

"No," Lucius frowned.

"Could you summon it? I won't be able to give you proper instructions without it."

Lucius looked down at him for a minute, face pinched with suspicion.

"Fine," he eventually barked. He took his wand out from his pocket and pointed it back toward the Manor, summoning parchment and an enchanted quill in a stern tone before looking back to his captive.

"What are the options?" he muttered, glancing over his shoulder occasionally as he waited for the parchment to appear.

"Well," Remus sighed, leaning back against the bench, resting the documents on his thigh and tilting his head up toward Lucius, "it depends on the age of the documents. This first method I'll try is to copy the letter out onto new parchment and then—well, I'll show you. If that doesn't work, then it's older; you'll have to charm a mirror and read the letter through that."

"Rather involved, isn't it?" Lucius huffed, looking away again.

"Things tend to get complicated when there are lives at stake, sir," Remus sighed, looking back toward the hills and letting himself take several deep, quiet breaths, listening to the birds flitting and chittering through the landscape. Lucius turned away.

A few seconds went by before Remus noticed something odd. He furrowed his brow, glancing at the shadows being cast on the road in front of him.

"Does it seem a bit early for it to be getting this dark, sir?" he asked, watching as the shadows began to blur and move.

"Mm," Lucius hummed, not moving from his alert station. "Perhaps it does."

Remus was about to press, Lucius having made it clear that it made perfect sense to him, but he was interrupted soon by the whizzing of a yellowed roll of parchment paper whipping around the corner and into Lucius's outstretched hand. Remus sighed and reached out his own hand, grasping the roll tightly so that the quill he could now see tucked inside it didn't fall out. The problem became apparent to him as soon as he had everything in his hands.

"I'll need you to sit beside me and hold these, sir," Remus spoke begrudgingly, lifting up the parchment Lucius had brought with him originally.

"Move over then, dog," Lucius snapped, and Remus scooted to his right, keeping the documents held out so that Lucius could take them from him once he was settled.

Lucius moved in silence, gripping Tonks's letter first and holding it out for Remus to look at. They had to be close to each other for it to work, almost close enough that their elbows and hips were in danger of touching, and it made Remus's skin crawl.

"I'll just test a part of it," Remus said, "it won't be perfectly clear unless you copy over the whole thing, but if there's any transformation then we'll know."

"Fine," Lucius snapped. "Get on with it."

Remus crossed his right leg over his left, forming a makeshift table, and then got to work unfurling the rolled up parchment. He tore a sizeable portion of it off, his best attempt at making it letter-sized, before beginning to copy out the nonsense words. It was a struggle to stay focused as he did so, difficult not to get carried away thinking about Tonks writing her letters, the funny little faces she'd make when she was searching for words she couldn't remember.

Remus stayed quiet until he was done copying out two lines of the coded text, gesturing at Lucius to indicate that the could relax as Remus set down his quill and lifted the paper.

"I don't expect you to catch it all on the first try, obviously, sir, but I'm going to fold the paper now. It's a seven-pointed star, so it takes a bit of practice."

"A seven-pointed star?" Lucius seethed over Remus's shoulder. "Have none of you ever written an urgent message before?"

"Do you generally send urgent messages by owl, sir?" Remus asked, raising his eyebrows as he looked at Lucius out of the corner of his eye.

"Just show me," the Death Eater spat, ignoring the question entirely.

"As you wish," Remus replied, turning to the task at hand.

He had made it halfway through the folds before the darkening sky began to make things difficult. It was already difficult, of course, especially with Remus being out of practice. Being in Grimmauld Place had meant that he rarely sent or received letters, with most news or questions coming directly when members of the Order visited. When the letters did need to be sent, the Weasley twins had developed a charm that would allow all of them to fold the paper using magic. That was a piece of information that Remus had no intention of ever sharing with Lucius.

"Why are you stopping?" Lucius asked from where he'd been perched. Remus glanced up to find his captor tense, shoulders raised, eyes darting over Remus's hands as if he might be able to will them back into movement.

"It's difficult to do this in the dark, sir," Remus explained, watching Lucius for a moment longer before beginning to raise his eyes to the sky.

"Don't," Lucius stopped him, grabbing at Remus's shoulder. The younger wizard froze, taken aback by his captor's grasp and the urgency in his voice.

"What is it?"

"It's a solar eclipse," Lucius replied, gripping Remus's shoulder tighter for a moment before letting go. "You can't look at it without the spell."

Remus glanced down at the parchment he was holding, trying to wrap his head around what Lucius was saying.

"Today? Right now?"

"Obviously," Lucius hissed, shifting restlessly on the bench. Their knees jostled against each other.

Another flash of memory returned to Remus from his school days, this time from the long hours he'd spent in the Astronomy Tower.

"Then it's—that means it's the New Moon, doesn't it?"

"It was meant to be your reward, to sit and watch, if you were interested."

Lucius's voice was halting, almost embarrassed.

"Ah," Remus replied, feeling some part of himself wilt.

"Then you're not interested?"

Remus was quiet for a moment, absently playing with one corner of the parchment paper.

"Dog?"

"No," Remus replied, looking up with a halting, close-lipped smile. "Perhaps in another context. I'm afraid that right now all I can think about is how few days I have left."

The truth seemed to catch Lucius off guard. He was quiet too, for a moment. The sky continued to darken until it almost felt as though it was night, and there was something entirely off about sitting on a bench, pouring over notes with Lucius Malfoy like two teenagers snuck out to study well-past midnight.

And then there was the timeline. Sixteen days until the Full Moon. Sixteen days until he was done his mission here—whether that ending came in the form of a rescue or a bloodbath.

"Can we go back to the Manor, sir? I can finish showing you there. It'll be just as long to sit and wait out here."


Lucius wasn't sure what he'd been expecting from Lupin, but it hadn't been this total shut down. He felt himself beginning to scramble, as if he needed to do something to make up for the werewolf's sudden melancholy, but Lucius knew it was already too late when the halfbreed explained himself.

"Of course," Lucius muttered, reaching out to grab the partially folded parchment from his captive and then tucking all of the papers into a pile and holding them close to his body as he stood. "It was a foolish idea anyway."

Lupin did nothing to correct him, simply stood up, stretched, and put his hands in his pockets, ready to follow Lucius. The elder wizard narrowed his eyes for a moment, trying to catch some hint on the werewolf's face as to what else he was feeling, but it was too dark and the wolf's metaphorical mask was too secure.

"Let's go," Lucius ordered quietly, gesturing at the werewolf to walk ahead of him. Lupin stared at him for an instant, eyes shadowy in the dim light, and then he did as he was told, beginning the long walk back across the grounds.

The sun only stayed fully covered for a few minutes, which meant that the shadows began to move again as they walked, slowly shifting back into being. The werewolf still didn't speak, but after a while the silence seemed to become less brooding and more exhausted. There was a kind of solemn acceptance in the way Lupin's shoulders softened as they walked, his gait relaxing as the tension seemed to fall away behind him. Lucius knew that this was its own kind of acquiescence—but not the kind he was striving for. He needed the dog to submit to him, not his own looming mortality. Still, Lucius made the choice not to push it. The werewolf had proven more than once just how bad he was at staying quiet for extended periods of time. Lucius simply had to bide his time.

It wasn't until they were passing Abraxas's house, the sky slowly lightening to a soft gunmetal, that Lupin spoke up.

"Should you put my collar back on now, sir?" he asked, eyes remaining downcast.

Lucius hesitated, fingering the leather collar and leash in his pocket and clenching his jaw. "I was just about to say so," he lied, pulling the items out from his pocket, gingerly moving around the papers he'd put back in there as they'd walked away from the bench. "Turn around and face me."

Lupin turned, not raising his eyes until Lucius was right in front of him, collar and leash outstretched.

"I'll let you do the honours," the Death Eater murmured.

Lupin followed instructions again, remaining silent as he took the collar and lifted it to his neck, leash still attached, working nimbly as he secured the buckle.

"Pleased?"

The question caused Lucius to freeze in earnest, spitting words out before he could think about them properly. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You're good at finding things to be displeased about. I just thought I'd double check."

Lucius hated that some part of him was relieved to hear the werewolf joke again, even if the humour didn't reach his lips or eyes. The Dark Wizard immediately wiped the idea from his mind, dismissing it as a side effect of his ongoing endeavour to make the werewolf bend to his own will, rather than Death's.

Lupin finished adjusting the collar at his neck, flashed Lucius a determined look, and then turned North again, continuing down the path toward the Manor.

"Why did you do that before, sir?" he asked a moment or two later.

"Do what?" Lucius replied, trying to ignore the nervous churning in his chest.

"Take me off the leash. Let me walk on my own."

"Because you did what was asked of you when you told me about the safe house, and I needed to reward you. That's the point of positive reinforcement, isn't it?"

"I suppose so," the mutt replied with a slight nod. Lucius looked away, watching his father's house for any sign of a disturbance. Nothing had changed.

"There's too much at stake for you to shut down, now," the Death Eater continued a moment later. "I need to remind you that there are reasons for staying."

Lucius hadn't meant to say it, but then again, he hadn't meant to say most of what he had this afternoon.

The statement seemed to rejuvenate Lupin somehow. He glanced up and over his shoulder again, looking at Lucius as if he was trying to read between the lines of what had been said.

"Are you going to make a habit of it, sir?"

"Only if you behave yourself," Lucius replied immediately. A shadow passed over the werewolf's face and he turned away again.

"Right. Starting with the letters."

When they finally made it back to the cellar, Lupin stuck to his word, carefully holding up the paper and demonstrating the process to Lucius as he went. He held the star in front of him for a few seconds—twelve, he later specified—and then he unfolded it all again, gazing at the page with anticipation.

The letters rearranged themselves before their eyes, shivering and whispering across the parchment until they were forming a name and then an opening sentence. It was a letter to someone else in the Order of the Phoenix, talking shop. Lucius didn't bother to hide his pleasure when Lupin handed the paper back to him, asking the Death Eater how he wanted to be taught.

Although it didn't take long for Lucius to grasp the basics of the technique, Lucius knew that his understanding could be credited almost entirely to how patient the werewolf was with his would-be student. He was quiet and serious and nodded thoughtfully whenever Lucius did something right, and Lucius almost felt something warm in his chest when he successfully completed the spell for the first time.

Remus did not seem similarly affected. He walked himself back into his cell as soon as they were done, removing his collar and setting it by the door, pulling off his jacket. Lucius blinked away, looking down at the folded papers in his hand for a moment before stuffing them into his pocket and steeling himself to leave.

"I'll bring you your food in a bit," Lucius muttered. "I was just waiting for the others to eat."

"Alright," Remus replied, rubbing his face, looking as though he might be stifling a yawn.

Lucius wanted to say something, suddenly. Something that might bring the life back into the werewolf. Something that might make hime seem less empty.

"You'll—just—there's still time," Lucius fumbled for the words, clenching his gloved fists.

"For what?" Remus asked. He sounded genuinely surprised. Lucius forced himself to make eye contact again.

"For…"

The answers that flashed in Lucius's mind: for you to figure something out; for you to be rescued; for you to get on the Dark Lord's good side; for you to submit. A swell of messy emotions and heat rushed through his abdomen and lower and he turned away.

"For you to get your head back on its shoulders and try to live your last two weeks with a little dignity," he replied in a cool near-whisper. None of what he'd actually thought. None of the treacherous, threatening ideas that he wanted to scrub immediately from his mind and memory.

"Ah," Remus replied, shoulders slumping again. "Right."

The two men stared at each other. Lucius swallowed.

"Right."