Disclaimer: In case you weren't sure, I don't own Remus, Sirius, Lily, James, the ministry of magic, the condition of lycanthropy, or the Harry Potter universe in general. I do own Mum Lupin, the rest of the Lupin clan, and various other original characters throughout.

Warnings: Adult situations, graphic violence, nudity, slash.

Balkeirv

Chapter Four: Mark of the Beast

By: Irish

Remus looked around at the three sets of eyes boring into him. He couldn't explain why it sent chills down his spine, but those stares… Maybe it was the uniforms of the guards that stood around him, reminding him all too much of Unionist-backed MPs and police that had been "keeping the peace" in his native Northern Ireland for his entire life. Maybe it was just the general lack of life in them, or the language barrier that made these men feel so utterly alien.

"Razdet," one of the guards said again, and used the tip of his wand to flick Remus's collar before crossing his arms over his chest again, and resuming his staring.

Remus sighed softly. He knew what they wanted. They wanted him to undress so he could be probed and scrubbed. He wasn't a huge fan of the idea, but knew that if he didn't comply, he'd likely be stunned and then have it done for him. Slowly he started to unbutton his shirt. They took it from him the moment it was off his shoulders one making a 'hurry up' motion with his hand.

It wasn't the issue of being naked, or fear of being violated; it was how they were watching him. Cold dead eyes. Even lust would have been better because at least it was something he could recognize. He unlaced his boots and removed them, then his socks. Out of options, his finally dropped his pants, resisting the urge to try and cover himself. Instead he stared back at the guards, tossing his tawny hair from his face defiantly, a hand on his hip.

"Well, now what?" he asked with a shrug, as though he frequently stood in all his scarred and tattooed naked glory in front of strange and threatening men.

"Oostonov te bashi rooki nah stenyeh."

"Oh, obviously," Snape was certainly right about needing to learn Russian. "I don't speak Russian. No spreken de Rooskii. Je ne compreds pas. I. Don't. Speak. Russian." Remus was sure they didn't actually care, but it would be more expedient if they tried to meet him half way, instead of just barking orders and then getting pissed when he didn't follow them.

The guards apparently didn't care for his attitude, as he found himself spun around in a classic police move, and forced to the wall, hands over his head, his feet kicked apart.

"I'll take it that was Russian for 'assume the position?' I assure you there is nothing up there," Remus grimaced. "Well, accept for your finger, now." Just because he was gay did not mean he enjoyed just any strange man violating him. Hell, he wasn't even thrilled when the damned Healer had to do it for a routine physical. "Have you found my fucking tonsils yet? Christ on a fucking cracker, do you mind?"

In fact, the guard did mind very much, judging by his own disgusted and complaining tone as he spoke to his fellows. Remus had absolutely no sympathy. After another moment the invading fingers were gone, and since he was already naked, there was nowhere else to search. A hand grabbed the back of his neck and propelled him from one dank concrete room to another, with showerheads and drains on the floor.

In retrospect, Remus would have greatly preferred a half dozen more cavity searches then the scrubbing that occurred next. For ten agonizing minutes, two guards scrubbed him with what felt like Brillo pads on sticks. That was humiliating and painful enough, but then they dumped a bucket of what smelled like a delousing agent over his head. The noxious chemical smell causing him to cough.

And it burned. His raw skin was twice an agony, as he tried to stand there stoically. His muscles twitched as he resisted the urge to rub at his skin and try and get it off. After a five-minute eternity of agony, the water was turned back on and he was allowed to rinse off. It didn't stop the burning entirely, but brought it down to a tolerable level.

Remus found himself herded along like a wayward sheep, with a prodding wand in his back, as he was moved through the next room where he was given a swatch of cloth to dry with, then into a supply room. He was turned over to two other guards there. His own clothes, he could see, were in large pile of other discards. He wasn't given his own clothes back though, and instead found a military-drab uniform thrown at him. They were too big, which was unsurprising. Remus was a small man. The pants had snaps on either side of the waist that allowed him to adjust until they'd actually stay on his narrow hips. He had to roll up the pants twice and the sleeves three times. He was just glad to be dressed again.

"Well, it's not the worst fashion statement I've ever made," Remus said, tucking his shirt into his pants, then ducking as a pair of boots were thrown at him. They were two sizes too big, at least.

"Say, how about I keep my own boots? They're right over there…" Remus attempted. He left the boots where they were and pointed to the pile of cast offs. One of the guards simply pointed insistently at what had been thrown at him.

"Tell ya what, you keep those. They look newer than yours, and I'll keep mine?" Remus held up a hand as a gesture of peace as he edged over towards his boots. Good footgear could be life saving. Especially in winter.

The guard watched him warily, but seemed more open to trying to communicate then all his previous guards had been. Remus picked up his own boots, and held them to his chest with one hand. "See, I keep these," he tightened his hold for emphasis. "And you, take those." Remus pointed at the other pair of boots, then at the guard's feet, then repeated the motion. The guard had boots of his own, but they were worn almost gray. Even if the pair he'd thrown at Remus didn't fit, he'd be able to find a pair that did from what they had in supply, and the numbers would still tally.

The guard's eyes flicked from Remus to the discarded boots and back again. Then he gave a single nod, and moved to pick them up. Remus sighed with relief and quickly pulled on the familiar footgear, lacing them up quickly. Never in his life had he been so happy to have his "culchie boots". He came from a working class Irish Catholic family with ten kids. Shoes were a luxury. In the summer, he'd gone barefoot, mostly. Aside from that, he had never had more than one pair of shoes, always leather working boots, or as non-working class kids called them "culchie boots". Remus had felt a lot of vindication when the very boots he'd started his first year with became popular. Doc Martens were all the rage now. He'd been torn between laughter and the intense desire to punch Sirius in the face when his lover had bought a pair. Sirius had been the worst for taking the mickey out of him about his culchie boots.

Remus straightened, glancing down at his feet once more, feeling very fond of his boots at the moment and a bit proud that he was already leaning and learning how the system here work. Russians were renoun for their backdoor dealings. He looked up quickly when another guard entered the room, speaking rapidly in Russian to the other two men who had been keeping an eye on him. The newcomer gestured in a rather dramatic fashion, and pointed to Remus several times. There was a short argument, and then the new guard gestured for Remus to follow him. Nervous, Remus crossed the room and hopped the couple of steps out the door following after the guard.

He was brought to yet another building, this one far smaller, even than Severus's office had been. Like Severus's office though, it had a single chair in the center of the room. Remus didn't even need to be told to sit this time.

It was déjà vu, really, as he sat and was immediately strapped in place with a whispered word of magic. Once again the door opened, and once again hard-soled boots clicked on the floorboards.

"Severus, I didn't expect to see you so soon," Remus said, feigning cheerfulness.

"There's been a minor change in plans. I've been given orders to have you shaved and marked before releasing you into the population… it's a concern that you may try and make an escape." Severus replied from somewhere behind him. "Not that I care if you know that or not. But I wanted to enjoy the sight of watching you shorn and branded. Too bad Black isn't here to witness this. I would love for him to watch me make what was his, mine."

Someone stepped up behind Remus, not Severus, Remus could tell that immediately and grasped a lock of his hair, there was a snip, and then one tawny lock dropped onto his lap. Remus sighed.

"I never belonged to Sirius. I don't belong to you. You can't 'have' me Severus. I'm not property," Remus's hair was quickly being snipped away.

"A dog can be owned, can't it?" Severus smirked. "And that's what you are, Lupin. Nothing more than a mangy, underbred dog. Your definitely the runt of the litter your mother whelped."

"Do you really want to exchange barbs with me about family? I'm pretty sure I'll win…" Remus said, pretending to be bored with the whole situation. "Do you really think you're more intimidating that an MP with an assault rifle? I hate to tell you this, Sev, but you're not."

"Crucio!" Severus barked.

Remus had had the Crucio curse cast on him many times. Twice in his seventh year at Hogwarts in his Defense Against the Dark Arts class, probably nearly a dozen times during his three years training to be an auror, and a couple of times since then while actually attempting to catch Death Eaters. He'd once suffered a full two minutes of it. For the Crucio curse, that was a long time. As a rule of thumb, five minutes straight could actually kill you, though, it could take up to ten if you were tough. Eventually though, the pain overwhelmed you so entirely, that you just started to shut down, you went into deep shock and died.

Severus seemed hell-bent on testing his endurance though.

Remus gripped the arms of the chair, throwing his head back. Jaw clenched as he convulsed in pain. It had taken him by surprise. Prepared for it, Remus might have been able to counter it a little. He was vaguely aware that his back had arched, and he was bowed upwards, contorting in mortal agony. He clenched his jaw harder, head thrashing. He would. Not. Scream. Damnit!

Severus was standing over him, peering down into his face. He caressed Remus's cheek with the back of his hand, a cool touch. The other kept his wand pointed at Remus, holding the spell.

"Your willpower is amazing," he whispered. "I like that I can make you feel, Lupin, that my actions can become the axis that your world spins on. Oh you will call me Maste," his voice was a mere whisper, almost sweet, his fingers playing over Remus's cheek and along the side of is neck. "You will beg to call me Master."

Remus could barely hear the words through the rushing and pounding in his ears. His eyes were locked wide open, and all he could do was stare back at Severus, lips clamped together, as he held on to what he did have control over in this situation.

The pain stopped as abruptly as it started and Remus collapsed into the chair, as much as his restraints would allow, his world going gray as he tried to catch his breath. His muscles quivered all over from the pain, the relief of that pain, and the wrenching of his body as he writhed. His world was nothing for long moments.

When he roused himself to more alertness and lifted his head, he saw Severus watching him intently. The snip-snip of the scissors had continued, as his hair was hacked away, pulled up by handfuls. The scissors so close to his scalp it was only a matter of time before he got cut. Severus just watched from the shadows, his eyes seeming to almost glow in the dim light.

"Why?" Remus finally croaked.

"Why what? Why torture you? You don't think you've earned a little retribution? Hmm?" Severus replied, his tone once again conversational.

"No. I think we ended our school years fairly evenly. Assuming that I'm accountable for the sins of my friends, which I will accept responsibility for." Remus straightened, then winced as the tip of his ear was cut. To Remus the pain was no worse then a paper cut, and the small wound healed so quickly that only a single drop of blood rolled along the contour of his ear. "You've always used me as your proverbial punching bag anyway. Regardless of the fact I never harmed you directly."

Severus laughed bitterly, an ugly, rusty, sound. "Yet you remain loyal to them. It is they who allowed you to suffer at my hands. When I outted you, how much easier do you think things would have been if Black had come out too? He could have protected you and chose not too. It was Black who let me in on your real secret. Not to mention Potter's innumerous selfish acts that left you, at best, in the lurch. At worst, beaten nearly every day of fifth year for being a fag." He raised a brow delicately.

"It's not in you to understand," Remus replied after a moment. He sighed softly. James and Sirius may hate Severus, but Remus never had… nor would he ever. If ever there was a sheep gone astray, it was Severus. "I can't expect you to understand love, trust, loyalty, when it's been so lacking in your own life. And forgiveness."

"Forgiveness is for those who cannot exact revenge," Severus snorted, pacing closer as the guard who had been playing barber unbound one of Remus's arms, speaking to him in Russian.

"Take your shirt off," Severus translated after a moment.

Remus sighed and ducked out of his shirt. His arm was grabbed and rebuckled to the chair. Remus didn't fight it. Pointless rebellion was dangerous and without merit. He heard the high buzz of a tattooing needles start up on his left side and cringed just a bit. He had other tattoos, and it wasn't the tattooing itself that hurt. For the magic-imbued ink to remain fast, for his body not to absorb and heal, it had to be done with a silver needle. That was what hurt. It felt like being tattooed with a needle that had been heated to white before being put to his flesh.

Severus fell quiet as the guard started to tattoo on his bicep, the silver needle biting into his flesh then dragging a line of fire, then back up again. It was short movements, which was almost worse, the needle going back over already-tender skin. Remus resolutely ignored both Severus and the pain, turning his head to stare out the one tiny window in the room.

After ten or fifteen minutes, the buzzing stopped and Remus let out a breath as the needle was finally taken away from his skin. Severus was still watching him, his expression unfathomable. Remus had no idea what to make of any of this. Why was Severus here, watching this part of his ordeal? Was it simply to see him 'marked', branded like so much chattel? After a moment, he approached, and ran his finger over the freshly inked skin.

"You've just been marked for life, Lupin. Even assuming you survive your time here, and that seems unlikely, every time you look in the mirror, you'll think of me." Severus smiled, more a feral bearing of teeth than a real smile, and then stalked out.

Remus looked at the fresh mark on his arm, wondering what mark he'd bear for life. It was rather unoriginal, for the most part. A serial number, 37562613, under that, thought was another mark. Two parallell lines that ran horizontally across his bicep, not unlike an equal sign. Remus couldn't fathom what that symbol meant. Outside of a math equation, he'd never seen it before.

Red pricks of blood welled up over the black ink, and oil naturally rose to the surface over the damaged skin, creating a fine sheen over the numbers and lines. Normally a tattoo was bandaged for awhile immediately after, but the guard who'd shaved and marked him showed no inclination to do so.

After a moment the restraints undid themselves, and Remus stood up, brushing as much of his hair off his clothes as he could, running a hand over the uneven stubble that remained. His issued uniform had come with a cap, cloth, with a stubby bill, like some soldiers wore. He had put it in his pocket, but he pulled it out now and put it on. It wasn't so much that he cared, after all, hair grew back, but the best way to stay warm was to keep your head covered.

The guard gave him only a moment to collect himself before beckoning him outside, prodding him across a dirt-and-scrub-grass yard to a rectangular building which two more guards stood outside of. Words were exchanged amongst the three, then Remus was shoved roughly up the couple steps and through the door.

Author's Note: Hello everyone, here's another chapter finally. I've had it for a while but I've had a few snags. Oh well, here it is now. I'd like to give a shout out to my beta ScorpioPhoenix, she was a major help. Hope everyone is still enjoying this. Thanks to all of you who keep reading my work. Double thanks to those of you who review it! The Russian in this chapter is what is called "Transliterated" I took the Russian words and spelled them out as best I could in English letters. I think that's everything.