Lucius Malfoy had grabbed Narcissa Black and disapparated, unwittingly taking Remus Lupin with them, vanishing with a crack. They left behind a beat of shocked silence before Sirius's scream tore through the high, vaulted entrance hall of Potter manor.

He shot a stupefying curse at the nearest enemy target, his younger brother Regulus. "Where is he?" he hollered as Regulus barely managed to shield himself from the hit. "You know where they've gone."

Regulus was stumbling backward, trying to escape but unable to disapparate inside the house.

"They've got Remus. Tell me!"

Amycus Carrow had drawn his wand on James. "Not so bold without your missus and your fancy gold spells, are you?" he taunted, regretting it immediately as James disarmed him. He scrambled to retrieve his wand from the shrubbery outside the front doors, leaving Regulus to face both James and Sirius alone.

"Reg, just tell us," James said, a hand on Sirius's arm.

"Where are they? They are going to kill Remus," Sirius said, still shouting.

"No. No, he's clever," Regulus stammered. "He's strong. He'll get away."

Sirius bared his teeth. "He might have on his own, but he won't leave without HER."

Regulus was outside now, glancing around for Carrow, not wanting to abandon him there to be taken to the Order of the Phoenix.

"No, you're not going anywhere. You're taking us to Remus. Right now." Sirius lunged as he said it, nearly stepping into the leg locking jinx James had fired at Regulus. It missed him as Carrow surfaced from over his shoulder, pulling Regulus backward into the shrubbery, twigs snapping as he turned on the spot. They were about to disapparate when Regulus's wand flashed red one last time.

Sirius howled as they vanished, but James tugged hard on his arm. "Look!"

In the air where Regulus had stood a cloud of light remained, waving and fading, but lasting long enough for them to read the message in it, a single letter, a capital letter M, drawn in a stately old script, like the engraving on a signet ring. Without blurting it out for Carrow to hear, Regulus had told them where Remus had gone: Malfoy Manor.

"Right then," Sirius said, brandishing his wand to disapparate himself.

"Rus, no," James said, clamping both of his arms around him, keeping him from turning.

"Get OFF me, James."

They scuffled together, quidditch teammates evenly matched only James was taller and had the advantage of already having Sirius's arms pinned. He toppled the pair of them onto the hard tiled floor just inside the doors.

"Will you wait," James begged as they tussled. "We can't rush into the house where Riddle and all his thugs are encamped. There's too many of them, all battle trained and ruthless."

"They won't be expecting - "

"It won't matter, Sirius. Stop and think. We need to plan a bit. We can't help Remus until we get some help ourselves."

Beneath him, Sirius stopped fighting, letting out a sound between a snarl and a snob before they both lay still, panting in the now quiet and empty house.

"Come on," James said, getting up. "Let's get to Lily and Pete and call for the Order."

As the heir of the house of Malfoy, Lucius was able to apparate directly inside the manor. He brought himself and his runaway bride to the drawing room, where Riddle had been holding court for weeks. It would be a grand entrance, dramatic, possibly even romantic as Lucius and Narcissa, the perfect Death Eater pair, returned to the manor. In truth, no soulmates, counterfeit or otherwise, ever looked better suited for each other than they did, and well Lucius knew it.

What he didn't know was that Remus Lupin would arrive with them, clutching Narcissa's hand, reeling through the apparition, stumbling and skidding, falling hard onto both of them as they landed, sending all of them sprawling. The three of them appeared in the drawing room, collapsed at Tom Riddle's feet in a heap of fabric, hair, and noise.

The Death Eaters stationed at either side of Riddle's armchair dived into the pile, pulling at arms and legs, scrambling to see who had invaded their stronghold.

"How dare you man-handle me this way in my own house," Lucius demanded, snatching his wand back from Antonin Dolohov. If it had been someone less fearsome than Dolohov, he would have also slapped their face.

Narcissa's reaction was much the same, twisting her wrists out of Alecto Carrow's grasp, haughty and offended. Alecto was taken aback enough to let Narcissa free herself, but would not return her wand, grasping it in both of her hands, her head lowered like a goat about to charge.

Remus's captor had pounced on him, hoisting him to his feet with large hands, their long fingernails filed into points and stained dark at the tips. The captor was on him instantly, silent as something supernatural. Without a word, the breath on the back of Remus's neck pricked him with horror, demanding his attention. Unlike the others, who had held their prisoners facing away from themselves, toward Riddle, Remus's captor turned him so they were standing face to face. Remus seldom got this close to anyone as tall as himself, but a pair of hex-green eyes were now level with his.

For the first time since he was six years old, there was nothing in Remus's field of vision but those eyes, the long nose, the bared, grinning teeth of Fenrir Greyback. Deep in Greyback's throat was growl, low, for only Remus to hear. It petrified him. He wasn't sure if he could smell blood or if the stench was rising from his memory.

Through the haze of time and fear, he heard Narcissa speaking, and for that, Remus fought his way back.

Her voice was strange, high and childish. "Lucius, your very rude guest has got my wand," she said, faking a pout as she took his arm, leaning against him and blinking up into his face.

There was a pause of bewilderment as Lucius blinked back at her. For a moment, he was silent, and they stood like a beautiful tableau, looking intently into each other's faces in the centre of the room crowded with Death Eaters.

She held her eyes wide open, like a baby, batting her eyelashes at Lucius. He was awful, and weak, but he was not stupid. He had to understand how furious Riddle would be if he knew the pair he'd chosen had rejected and betrayed each other. They would both be blamed, punished. It wouldn't do. For the moment, for survival, they had to pretend.

At last, Lucius cracked with a bemused laugh. "What do you expect, my darling? You've been very bad this weekend," he said, tapping the end of her nose with his forefinger. "I'll keep your wand with me until you've properly repented."

Alecto surrendered the wand to him. Narcissa stamped her foot as they passed it in front of her, pressing herself even closer against Lucius's side with an audible, "Hmph."

"Come now, there's no point sulking," he said, pocketing her wand and patting her hand where it grasped his sleeve. "You'll remain without certain privileges until you've apologized to your father as well as to me and…" He extended his arm toward Riddle. "You must especially beg the forgiveness of our Lord."

Riddle's voice came vibrating through the room, a clear tenor but with a sound almost like a hiss at the end of each phrase. "Enough, Malfoy. What is this rabble that's come along with you from the Potter's manor? The one Greyback's got? Is he the one from the newspaper photo? Explain."

Narcissa tossed her head. "Him? He can go," she said. "I've finished with him."

Remus wrenched himself within Greyback's unyielding grip. Greyback let him spin around but held him with one arm bent around his throat so tightly Remus couldn't speak. His opposite hand was on the back of Remus's head. "Eyes down, scum," he growled.

Narcissa let go of Lucius's arm, curtsying to Riddle, raising her voice to speak over Remus's strangled protests. "I do apologize for the embarrassment I might have caused when that reporter came nosing around yesterday. There's no excuse but that it's the last spring of my girlhood and I wanted a plaything while Lucius was so busy here. He always tells me I'm too flighty, but I'm growing up. Really I am, and - "

"What is this wretch's blood status?" Riddle interrupted, pointing at Remus with his chin.

Narcissa hung her head. "Half-blood, my Lord. Raised by some insipid Muggle woman and a low-ranking Ministry worker. I never would have insulted you by bringing him here, but as you see he's not taking 'no' for an answer. I certainly didn't ask him to latch onto us as we were leaving." She said, truthfully enough, taking Lucius's arm again and smoothing her cheek against his sleeve. "Throw him out, darling. No need to be delicate about it. He deserves whatever abuse he gets while they do it."

Greyback's growl was now loud enough for everyone to hear it.

Lucius's phony smile cracked. "Not yet, my love. You have finished with him, but our Lord may not be."

Her pout lost its playfulness, her wide eyes washed with fear she couldn't blink away.

Riddle pursed his lips. "Indeed. Into the cellar with him."

Dolohov stepped up to take Remus away, but Greyback snarled at him. He led Remus out himself, alone, keeping his face tilted sharply toward the floor as they walked. Remus hadn't seen Narcissa's face since they'd arrived. The drawing room door slammed shut behind them and his heart gave a painful thud at the separation from her. His wrist throbbed. His wand was gone, but he wasn't sure where.

The house was massive. His neck ached as if it was about to break by the time Greyback finally let go only to shove him down a flight of dark stone steps. He caught himself as he stumbled into the wall, finding his footing as he descended. Just as at Potter Manor, the cellar door was made of iron bars.

Greyback shut himself inside with Remus, turning to him with a hungry grin. "You are one of mine."

Remus nodded, his breath heavy and fast, throat almost too dry to speak. "I was six. A little boy, asleep when you came into my bedroom."

"Yes," he said, stepping closer. "And now look at you. You've grown up taller than anyone else in your family, haven't you? Your senses of smell and hearing are keen and sharp. Your body is strong, and fast and agile, but you don't dare show it off in quidditch or other stupid games. You hide it. Like it's something to be ashamed of. But I see you. You're not the son of that small, weakling father making speeches against us at the Ministry. Not anymore. You're mine. I made you just as sure as if I'd sired you from the beginning."

Remus stared back at him, his mouth still open. Greyback's breath did indeed reek of old blood. His chest and shoulders were massive. Was this what he himself was like, as Moony? Everyone said Moony was bigger than Remus. Greyback's head was moving in rhythm, and Remus could tell it was synced to his own heartbeat. And above all of this, what was most striking was Greyback's open admiration for Remus, revelling at the sight of him. There was no sorrow at all in the way Greyback looked at him, only pride. No sadness or shame, not like Remus's true father.

"When I infect their young," Greyback went on, "wizards usually cast their children off and I raise them with us, in a pack. Especially when they're marked." Greyback lifted his hand, fitting the sharp tip of his fingernail into the scar bending over Remus's nose. "I could open these wounds again, but they're still so plain, so bright there isn't a need, is there."

It was too much and Remus cringed.

"As for you," Greyback resumed, looking Remus over from his head to his feet. "When you were infected, that Muggle woman insisted they keep you. That Dumbledore even educated you, like a full wizard. You wrote the posh tests at the school and all, didn't you?"

Remus blinked in the darkness. "Yes."

"You pass any of them?"

"Yes, all of them."

Greyback meant to hum disinterestedly but it was more of a yip. "One of mine, all trained up like that."

Remus stood a little taller. Greyback was a vain creature - vain and absorbing whatever distinction and prestige he saw in Remus as if it was his own. Remus flailed toward it, like a lifeline. "They made me a prefect as well. Trusting me to help keep order in the school."

At this, Greyback bent over laughing.

Remus was growing bolder, clearing his throat to drive toward the greatest point of pride of all. "I'm not only yours, Greyback," Remus said. "I'm hers as well. The girl upstairs, the one your master wants as the mother of his chosen one. She's not who they think she is. Sniff carefully around her. You'll know. And you'll know she's mine."

Greyback straightened up again, shaking his head and laughing quietly now, from the same place as his growl. "My boy. There are witches in this world who crave our - particular gifts. Scads of them begging to be marked with our scent. But you will learn not to mistake these cravings for real bonds."

"Bonds," Remus repeated. "That's exactly what it is. That's why I've come after her. Malfoy will never have her. He knows it. He won't be the father of the chosen one. Not now that she's bound to me."

Greyback huffed. "You misunderstand. Clever but stubborn."

"I do understand," Remus said. He pulled at the cuff of his sleeve, his bare arm white between them, the silver crescent, the lasting sign of his bond with Narcissa uncovered. "Look."

Greyback lit his wand and held it to Remus's flesh, growling over it. "This is a creature's bond mark."

"Yes," he said. "Her ancestors were Veelas. It's resurfaced in her somehow, and it's brought her to me - to us."

"Resurfaced," Greyback said. "That doesn't happen without magic. Someone with a knack for creature magic has enchanted her."

Remus was growing accustomed to Greyback's presence, finding the courage to take him by his forearms. "Think of it, father Greyback. Your master's chosen one doesn't have to be one of them. It can be one of us. It can be your grandchild. No more waiting for their help and their slow plotting to change the world. Instead, through this woman and child, we take the world back ourselves."

Greyback snatched Remus's hand from where it gripped his arm, squinting at the mark again. "You musn't speak this way," he said.

Remus knew he was right about that. Who had he become, lurking in the dark, conspiring with the demon of his childhood? It was worse than Narcissa's fake flirting with Malfoy upstairs. But it was done for the same reason: to get them back together and out of this house. With her in danger, there might not have been anything he wouldn't say.

"You have their trust. Together we have the strength," Remus said. "And I have her. As a family, we can do this. Let me go. Let me take her away, slyly, so they don't even know until it's too late and the chosen one is ours."

But Greyback was retreating, shaking his head. "No, you musn't…"

"Think about it," Remus said, following him as he backed toward the door. "Watch her. Bring her here, if you can, and see how she treats me when she thinks no one's watching."

"No, no," Greyback said. "You will wait here where you belong. In the dark, alone."

Alastor Moody burst into Bathilda Bagshot's front room, turning over cushions and peering behind the pictures and mirrors hung on the walls. "Lost one already, have ya?" he bawled at the lads, making no attempt to hide his frustration. "And it was the werewolf to boot."

"Don't be too hard on them, Alastor," Bathilda said, rubbing her hands against James's arms as if he might be cold. "They're still in mourning and, though clever, far too young for all of this."

Lily slumped on the couch while the lads stood in a row in front of the fire. Moody sneered at them. "Look at the bunch of you, lounging with your backs to the Floo so you won't see who's coming through it 'til it's too late. What are we going to do with you?"

"Yes, what are we going to do?" Sirius said, stepping away from the fire. "Remus has been at Malfoy Manor for hours now and we've done nothing. As soon as the sun sets, whether we've got a plan or not, I'm going to look for him, alone if I have to."

"And they'll pick you right off," Moody said, squaring up. "Malfoy Manor is as old and as cursed as houses in Britain get. It's got spectacular security in the best of times, let alone when Tom Riddle is staying over."

Sirius was stammering. "Riddle? He's there?"

As if summoned by this bad news, the Floo Moody had warned the lads not to turn their backs on flared to life and Dumbledore stepped into the room in a cloud of hot, sparking dust.

"Professor, thank the stars," said Lily, bounding to her feet from the sofa. "James and I - we've had another - well, look." She took the new prophecy orb from her pocket. Sunlight from the window struck its glassy surface but it refracted none of it, seeming to absorb the light instead.

"Oh, already. Splendid." Dumbledore pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and bent to examine it.

All the while, Sirius was raving to him about Remus's disappearance.

When Sirius had finished, Dumbledore raised his head, humming. "Yes, much to think about here. Complicated. We will get to Remus Lupin, Mr. Black. But first, Madam Potter must take a moment to tell me about this prophecy.

"I - " she began, "I'm not sure what to say. It was about the rules of life and death, and Tom Riddle biding his time, preparing to shift and change them."

"Do you remember the exact wording?" Dumbledore asked.

Lily looked to James, both of them shaking their heads. James knew she was disappointed in herself, and he reached for her hand and drew her close as she said, "I'm afraid not. Have you ever made a prophecy yourself, sir? It's hard to take it all in. Does it ever get easier?"

"I remember," Peter said. "I was there too."

"Please proceed, Mr. Pettigrew," Dumbledore smiled. "How priceless it is to have a trustworthy, attentive friend."

Peter repeated the prophecy, leaving Dumbledore humming more deeply than before.

"Yes, it seems immortality is Riddle's ultimate project. Unfortunate, most unfortunate." Dumbledore muttered the words of the prophecy to himself. "He does not want to act too rashly until he has secured for himself a kind of immortality, whatever the cost may be to himself and others."

"But how can he? We've always been taught immortality is impossible," James said.

Dumbledore grumbled. "It ought to be. There is very little magic to that end, all of it dark, all of it so damaging to the wizard who crafts it that he would be better off dead. And none of it is guaranteed to work. I will begin immediately to search through it. In the meantime, tell no one. In fact, that prophecy orb," Dumbledore eyed it as Lily held it in her hand. "Will you give it to me, Madam Potter, of your own free will?"

"Certainly, sir," she said, though as it left her fingers, she hesitated, so slightly that only James noticed.

With Lily's permission, Dumbledore was able to touch the orb. He pocketed it with a decisive nod. "What I need from the pair of you now," he told the Potters, "is for you to make your own study of immortality. Beginning with Bathilda's book on shade magic."

He produced a familiar old codex from his robes and pushed it at James. It was the book Bathilda had read from as Monty and Effie had died and he cringed at the sight of it, the feel of it in his hands as he received it.

Lily turned to brush a kiss on his jaw. "It's alright, love. Let me take it for you."

Dumbledore went on. "This book's magic, like all magic, has the capacity for great good. And it is for you."

"No immortality though?" James said, fighting his fear and grief, managing a wan smile, running his finger along the book's spine as Lily held it.

The smile Dumbledore returned was just as weak. "No. I am afraid not."

"A book?" Sirius railed. "Remus is a captive of the most dangerous wizard of our time, and we're all going to settle in for a good read?"

"Shut your cry-hole and wait for your orders," Moody bawled at him.

Dumbledore continued. "I fear Riddle's plan for the counterfeit soulmates pair may be more serious than mere vanity, more than simply mimicking the light. If he is using the loathsome magic I fear he is, he may be breeding the child to aid him in his quest for immortality. He wants a fresh, pure, untorn soul."

"Untorn?" Lily said. "How does a soul become torn?"

Dumbledore shuddered. None of them had ever seen him do such a thing before.

Moody rounded on the students, all of them recoiling, even Sirius. "Don't repeat a thing you've heard today about souls and immortality and whatnot. It is all unconfirmed and dangerous."

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed. "Say nothing. I myself will have to consult with Horace Slughorn before proceeding any further. But you will be relieved to know, our heroic Mr. Black, that all of this means we must free not only Remus Lupin from Malfoy Manor, but your cousin Narcissa Black as well. I'm not sure why Riddle has made Narcissa integral in this matter, but he has. And now we will be sure to deprive him of her."

The end of the rush of adrenaline after the morning's violence had left Remus exhausted. He was so tired he was actually able to sleep in the cellar. It was the first time since before his last transformation that he'd slept without her, his bonded partner, Narcissa.

When he woke up miserable and cold on the dirty stone floor below Malfoy Manor, the daylight coming through the gaps between the bars on the door was slanting farther into the darkness. It was almost evening, and it didn't look like anyone had any intention of feeding him.

That was a bad sign.

He paced the floor until he realized how much it made him seem like a wolf in a cage and he sat down again. Thinking of canines, he wondered whether the lads would risk coming for him - whether anyone could stop them. The spaces between the bars on the door looked like they might be wide enough for Peter to squash his well-fed ratiness between them. But then what? No, it was best they bided their time, listened to Dumbledore.

But if whatever plan they came up with didn't include bringing Narcissa along, what good would it be? He dropped his head in his hands. He couldn't leave her. But he couldn't stay here either.

A sound snapped his head to attention. He kept silent, barely breathing, sinking further into the shadows.

They were going to feed him. Greyback's massive form was recognizable even in silhouette, coming down the stairs, looming over someone else walking in front of him. The other person carried a tray, dressed as if they were staff from the kitchen with a kerchief tied over their head. Even with Greyback towering over them, their posture was straight and unintimidated, as if werewolves didn't frighten them. Remus didn't need to see their face to know who it was.

He forced himself not to pounce out of the darkness as Greyback opened the iron grate and nudged Narcissa into the cellar. She set the tray on the floor and glanced back to see Greyback pantomime tipping a hat he wasn't wearing before he went back up the stairs. Left alone, she hugged herself against the chilly dampness and craned her neck to see beyond the wedge of dim light in which she stood.

Remus's hand shot out from the shadows and swept her into the dark. She had been waiting for him, hoping, desperate to find him here, but she gasped all the same. "Lupin, be careful," she whispered up into his face as he pulled her against his chest. "It might be a trick. A trap. I just wanted to get a glimpse of you, to see you were alright."

He shook his head, smoothing her kerchief against her hair with both his hands. How in the stars did she make a scullery uniform look elegant? "If Greyback brought you here alone, it's alright," he said.

She frowned, puzzled. "Alright because you're - "

"His son, yes," he finished for her, scanning the space all around them. Greyback could no longer be seen standing in the stairwell, but he wasn't far off, and he was certainly listening, his ears keen enough to hear every whisper. Remus jerked his head in his direction, hoping she'd understand and accept Greyback above Lucius as their best ally, their best dupe, their best hope to escape Malfoy Manor.

Her hands rose to hold his face. "Of course," she said. "Greyback made you what you are, what I adore. He won't leave you caged like this, like some wretched animal. I know it."

"Brilliant girl," he breathed into her ear as he bent to embrace her. She understood perfectly. She always did.

"You're cold," she cooed. "My poor darling. Let me warm you."

Not all of this moment together was for Greyback's benefit. She had cupped her hands around his and was warming them with her breath and lips, her cheek against his knuckles.

"I'm a bit cold, but unhurt," he said. "Here, enough of that. This is quicker." His hand was at the small of her back, lifting her up, inadvertently catching the edge of the loose servant's tunic she wore, dragging it up until his palm was against the smoothness of her back. Her caution shattered at his touch and she vaulted into a wild, deep kiss, each of them unsure if they would come together like this again.

It could be that the two nights and days they'd lived as a bonded pair were all they would ever have. Neither of them was thinking of exaggerating for an audience as he lifted her off the ground, one of his arms inside her clothes, his chest expanding as he breathed in her scent, her heartbeat loud and fast in his ears. She clung to him, her hands in his hair, and her voice in her throat.

He bent into the kiss, intensifying it, raising an ache at the base of his throat and the pit of his stomach. Even now, locked in a cellar, she was too good to be true. Perfect in her mad, cunning, genius way. "By the stars, I love you," he breathed into her.

"Lupin," she said into his mouth. "It's true. I'm all for you, but they're going to have me married to Lucius anyway. They're bringing my parents, and Bella. Mum has her mother's wedding dress ready. And it will happen here in the manor, tomorrow afternoon on the floor over your head."

A groan escaped him. He had taken his mouth from hers, finding her hand and kissing the mark on her inner wrist, moving up toward her elbow, pushing her wide sleeve aside with his face.

"I don't think it will work," he said against her smooth skin which, if he wasn't mistaken, seemed to be beginning to take on its Veela glow. "If it's only a contract, your signature on parchment, perhaps it will. But if they try to use a magical marriage spell it won't take. It can't, can it? Not when I'm already yours."

She hummed and closed her eyes. "Even if it does work, as soon as Lucius comes near me to get me pregnant with Riddle's chosen one I'm liable to transform into my angry bonded Veela, rip his hair out, and burn his ancestral home down until just this foundation is left. They can hide my wand all they like. Veelas don't need them to summon fire."

Remus laughed against her arm, above her elbow now, raising shivers through her. "My glorious Veela."

She sunk her fingers into his hair as he smoothed his cheek against her wrist one final time. "Maybe I'll just be killed in the attempt," she said.

He folded her well-kissed arm between them. "They won't kill you, love. I don't know why, but this scheme to conceive the chosen one Riddle is looking for depends on you."

She sighed but glanced toward the stairwell. "Why can't I steal away and have the chosen one with you as his father? There's no wizard like you, Lupin. Imagine our chosen one, my Draco with a creature identity rooted in his primordial being, from before he was born. Marvelous. Think of that, Lupin."

He nodded and kissed her loudly on the cheek. Yes, he thought to himself, think of that, Greyback. Think, and let us out.