Pursuing the Prince

Chapter V

Disclaimer: I don't own them; I don't know anyone who does. Oh, JK does but I don't know her :)

Rating: Umm…T

A/N: GOSH I am so sorry!!!! This is what….a year later? I'm terrible and I know I don't deserve any reviews, and for those of you who are still interested, here it is. Well, I'm on holidays now so I should be able to relax and write….but this could very well be rubbish! Tell me if I've lost touch. I hope I haven't. ANYWAY…..i'll get on with it

Also, I know there are a few factual errors that I've made….so I'm also sorry about that. Hopefully u can just spit at the computer screen and forgive me 

Voila

…with love…..phoenix

Remus could tell that it was shaping up to be a fine day outside, but hidden in his non-existent house the atmosphere was cold and chilly with no patch of sun adorning his humble abode, warming it. He pulled the covers around his shoulders and, trying to drift back to oblivion, he was suddenly and preposterously jolted out of his lazy and complacent mood.

He dragged himself from the bed and pulled his dressing gown around his bare and scarred shoulders.

"What on earth is wrong with you?" he asked accusatorily when he reached the kitchen.

Snape glowered at him from under his black hair. "Have you seen the Daily Prophet?"

"This morning?" he mocked and sat down at the table. Yawning he continued, "I was asleep before you called. But do tell me Severus for I don't know how I will function without knowing what my stars read for today."

Snape threw him a dirty look, "I don't have time for your sarcasm Lupin," he growled and threw the paper at the werewolf, "Read it. I'll be late again tonight," he said and scouted around for his things, sprawled around the kitchen. Remus shuffled over to the sink and tapped the kettle with his wand, steam escaping through the north-pointing ventricle.

"What's the plan for today? What's your mate got in store?"

Severus didn't even flinch at Remus's mocking question, and, pocketing a small vial into his travelling cloak, he left the house with a pop.

Remus leaned across the table, coffee mug now safely in his left hand, and pulled the paper toward him. He rubbed his eyes and looked on the front page. Nothing. He looked on the second page. Nothing. He kept flicking through the Prophet until he reached the 8th page and sighed. 'They've finally written the eulogy,' thought Remus.

"He really is taking the Death of Dumbledore too hard," he muttered and tossed the paper in front of him and reclined in the rigid chair. The face of the most loved wizard smiled coyly from out of the page.

'But who isn't taking it hard?' he though, 'the whole Order is falling apart. Harry's not able to function some days…he has never trusted anyone as implicitly as he did Albus."

Gingerly fingering the newspaper, he bent his head over the words and felt his brow crease in frustration at his inability to push through his pain and read about the life of someone so close to him. His eyes read the words but his brain only caught snippets of meaning. Catchcries of his personality hit at Remus's chest: 'warm hearted' 'well loved' 'sadly missed' 'brilliance and ingenuity of mind'.

The messages left by the populus, outwardly declaring grief and sadness, were perceived by Remus as mere platitudes. No one had truly felt his greatness of spirit, no one had truly seen the brilliance of his mind. No one could ever claim they knew the late man, no one except Harry.

Remus sneered at the people who wrote in to the obituary. Faceless, unimportant witches and wizards espoused their love and their condolences and the thought made Remus ill. It seemed as though there was always a competition to see who would miss the deceased more: evidenced through the words and the excessive false tears.

A small message caught his eye, "Thank you, Professor" and his heart leapt at the sincerity, the compact and heart-wrenching sincerity of the three words. The message, although unsigned, let a menacing mood descend on his mind, let the first fluttering of loathing fill his stomach. Severus had killed Albus; Severus was the cause of this irrefutable and inescapable suffering.

The mood threw his body from the chair in the kitchen to his room; the fire must be quelled. He could not let himself be fooled by the tricks of emotion. He needed to trust Severus, and hell, he had evidence he that he could.

He leaned over to his bedside table and opened the draw tentatively then whispered, 'clam attulite'. A dull orange light erupted over the draw and then disappeared. Left in the bottom was a letter with the Hogwarts Crest in the top right hand corner. He had read the letter so many times when he first found it in his Gringotts vault that it had driven him mad.

Something in Remus needed constant confirmation that he was doing the right thing holding his silence: to Nymphadora, to Harry, to the Wizarding World that's turning over every rock in the country…

Dearest Remus,

Too many times in my life have I left a heavy burden on the shoulders of those I trust, and those whom I feel have a certain affinity for acting in the most noble of ways in what are generally the harshest of circumstances. But I must do it once more, though it be after I've begun my awfully big adventure…

You of all people can understand human nature and how varied and multifaceted it is, and how sometimes one can act out of hatred, pure anger and yet, they still maintain the capacity to love. They know and understand what the right thing to do is, but fear to grasp it, lest that path be convoluted and enticements shroud one's vision.

I am not sure how this night ended, but I hope there was a struggle, for one cannot live without actions and deeds affirming that we are important, that we mean something, that we have fought for the cause we believe in. However, I am simply pre-empting my own death, for I knew it would occur this year and that is why I have written to you, the kindest and most forgiving of men, who has been able to put childish differences aside and consider the complicated web that has ensnared those close to you.

I will say this for the last time in my life. I trust Severus Snape implicitly. He is my friend, my colleague. He is like a son to me. Listen to me Remus; you must not throw this away. I have charmed the document so that no one other than youself can read it, and it will continue to follow you around until you have truly understood. Regrettably, we are working in a time frame.

Severus informed me at the beginning of this year that he had made an Unbreakable Vow to Narcissa Malfoy, that should Draco fail to murder me, he must do it. First I was concerned about Harry and how he would continue without my help, so this year I devoted my time in teaching him the secret to Voldemort's success and immortality. It is as we have feared: horcruxes. You must work with Severus to gleam information and present it to the order.

Here is what you must do: send an owl addressed to "Mr Collins, 6 Aurora Close, London". As we have planned it, Severus will be under disguise as a muggle. Whether he has carried out this plan is another matter entirely, but Severus has obeyed everything that I have asked thus far and I am sure this time is no different.

Remus my boy, I have never asked anything of you I felt you were unable to complete. Severus is aware that I intend to contact you and he will be anticipating your letter.

Help Harry and befriend Severus. Everything will be clear in the end.

Best of luck for the frightening future, and remember this: nothing is impossible, and you will live to see the downfall of my old misguided student. You will do the right thing Remus; you have the most forgiving soul.

Kindly, Albus Dumbledore

Remus fingered the letter before tossing it unceremoniously into the drawer when he would have ordinarily folded it meticulously.

"And look where we are now," he growled savagely, "more mixed up then before. More complicated than before."

Slamming the jutting drawer into place he ran his hands quickly and nervously through his greying hair, his jaw tightening and the sides of his mouth twitching with agitation.

"You've made me a liar Albus," he muttered, "and an accessory to murder. The Order wants him dead and I'm living with him. Now I'm the traitorous bastard."

"That was quick Ms Prince," Lucius said groping at the bars. "What do you have for me?"

A twisted smirk coiled on her pallid face, "Well, I thought that the Draught of the Living Dead would be too easy, and it turns out Dementors can sense the part of the mind that stays 'alive'. I consulted one of my old books... I knew there was a spell that was able to bamboozle the Dementor. Since there isn't that many of them left, I believe that I'll be able to manage it. Luckily they're all serving your master, otherwise we'd be in real trouble."

She hesitated, "After that my problem was, how do I get you out? Do I prove that you're dead? Or do I slip you out like Barty Crouch Junior?"

Lucius's forehead crumpled and deformed his handsomely savage face. "And? I hope your brilliance was able to come up with something ingenious," he sneered.

She arched an eyebrow and her voice lowered; "Perhaps I should drag you out by your hair you ungrateful—" Yet Eileen's face twitched and she chewed on her lip, thinking. "As glamorous as that sounds, I did find a nicer way to get your incarcerated self emancipated."

Stepping out from behind her master after the clicking of Eileen's fingers summoned her, Trinny was hunched over and cowering with her arms wrapped tightly around her small frame, encompassing most of her body.

"Not the best of places for a house elf," Lucius commented, glaring down at the creature.

"Not the best of places for anyone, my dear Mr Malfoy," she murmured. "I'm sure you are aware that Elf magic works differently to our own, and that usually we keep it leashed up, so they can never get the opportunity to get the better of us. But she can get you out."

Lucius glared at the crumpled and cowering elf. Eileen saw the twisted look on his face and sighed. "You really are the biggest snob I've ever met," she muttered. "Listen to me," her voice suddenly took on a stronger element of forcefulness, of authority, "You are no use to the Dark Lord if you're rotting away in here."

"He wants to punish me, that's why I'm here."

"Well, punishment is over."

"He needs to remember that he needs me," Lucius growled. "So do what you have to do to get me out of here. Use that thing if you have to."

Eileen extricated a small vial, a liquid clear as water, and passed it through the bars.

"I thought you said the Living Death wouldn't work," he said harshly, eyeing the vial carefully.

"I said the Dementors would sense your soul, alive. What I've done is some research on the spells that will bamboozle the Dementors. If Trinny and I cast different spells simultaneously, your soul will darken, making it undetectable. Then, through a human transformation incantation, we'll change your form and get you out."

"Brilliant as it sounds Eileen…but how are you possibly going to fill the void of this lonely cell? How will the Dementors know that there is someone else here?"

Eileen smiled wickedly, "swallow the vial Lucius."

Lucius raised the small bottle and his right eyebrow, toasting her silently and downed the potion. He stared at her for a few seconds before his blond body hit the hard concrete with a thud. Eileen whipped out her wand, "Ready Trinny?"

The house elf nodded and drew her long tapered fingers into the air and began chanting in her high-pitched squeeking voice…

Nigabimus eum animam celare daemon…anima, alienate ab lucis!

Eileen rolled the words over in her head and cut in with a whispered, inflamabimus vis, and then lowered her wand.

The elderly witch flicked her black hair over her shoulder and looked down at her helper.

"I think it worked."

Flicking her wand once more, Eileen silently cast her spell and then looked to her feet where a small ferret lay, asleep.

She arched her eyebrow and smirked, "ferret? What ever you like, Lucius," she muttered and summoned the small animal and placed him gently in a nap-sack she had brought along.

She knelt down to the height of her house elf and her lip curled involuntarily, "Release him," she said darkly.

Trinny beamed at her mistress and snapped her fingers. A flame appeared, and, as if it were a ball she was throwing to the young Severus, she flung the flame into the cell. Once the smoke settled, the form of a man lay sprawled over the concrete, his limp black hair fell over his eyes so only his hook nose was protruding, his muggle clothes singed at the edges…

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