Chapter Fifteen

Tonks had been rather surprised when Sirius had shown up one day to request they take Simon for a few hours. He had refused to explain why, but he was so pale as to look frightened or sick, and his eyes were red-rimmed like he'd been crying. Remus had been busy, so she'd simply agreed to take Simon with her and she'd sort it out later. She'd been shocked by Simon's attitude—it was like he'd moved both forward and back, somehow. He seemed more mature, expressing his understanding of the necessity for him to be away from the other werewolves, but he'd been so intensely withdrawn that she felt like she'd lost all the ground she'd ever gained with him. He was deeply unhappy and neither admitting nor explaining it.

So when he'd gone back to Sirius and Harry that night, she'd taken a deep breath and plunged into an argument with Remus. Those tended to be the most exhausting, infuriating experiences of her life. She'd never met a man more stubborn than Remus Lupin—even when he knew he was wrong, he wouldn't let go of an idea until someone knocked it right out of him.

So they arrived at the moment in their argument: he knew she was right that they needed some way to take Simon out of Grimmauld Place and to spend time with him. But he was so adamant about Simon's safety that he refused to come up with some way for them to safely spend time together. Usually when he got like this, she could snog him into submission, but he wasn't budging this time.

"Fine!" she finally shouted, throwing up her hands. "You don't want to work this out, then that's fine! I'll just do it myself!"

It probably had to do with Gordon. But she'd never been able to live in that cautious way, thinking that because it happened to one person, it would happen to her. In fact, she'd never been cautious at all, and she wasn't about to start now, not because of Gordon or . . . or anything.

Remus maintained his stubbornness, she thought just to make a point. Probably just that he was more level-headed or experienced than she was, or something. Which was true, but didn't make her any less right about this. They ought to be compromising the safety issue with the issue of making Simon a part of the family before it was too late. His horror of harm coming to the boy was making him blind to Simon's ever-increasing distant attitude. She was right.

Harry and Draco had made the current batch of Wolfsbane treatment together, instead of Draco watching Harry and having it explained to him. He'd been spending so much time at brewing recently that he was beginning to recognise the principles involved in this complex potion for himself. This was the two-days-before-full-moon batch. Tomorrow, Harry was toying with the idea that Draco could deliver it by himself. He had to start doing it sometime, because it was likely that Harry wouldn't be around to help next month.

They were in the hallway, the cauldron between them, trying to make Harry's Invisibility Cloak cover both of them and the potion so they could Apparate from the front stoop without being seen.

"No, turn it back this way," Draco said in frustration. "It's not covering my legs anymore."

"Oh, hang it all, let's just go in plain sight," Harry said in disgust.

Then there was a knock on the door and they exchanged glances. It was obviously someone friendly, since Sirius had already destroyed that slip of paper with the address on it, but unexpected visitors was rarely anything good.

Harry opened the door. "Tonks? Uh, hi."

She breezed in. "Came to pick up Simon," she explained. "Has he taken his dose yet?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, we already gave it to him."

"Good," she said cheerfully. "I just thought he could use some company."

The two teenagers exchanged glances.

"What?" Then she lowered her voice and directed her speech to Harry specifically. "You told me yourself how much time he spends shut in his room. We're worried about him. Remus wants to be at the compound to supervise this—" She waved her hand at the cauldron to indicate it "—but I thought today would be a good enough day to just get him out of the house for a while."

Harry couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong with this, but she seemed so utterly unconcerned. He tried to brush his brain over hers to get any sense she was lying, but she was exuding a carefree attitude. And he couldn't deny that Simon was worrying them all, a bit . . . If he wasn't begging for some time in the practice room, he was shut up in his room with whatever he'd raided from the kitchen.

Harry shrugged. "Well, we've got to go," he finally said. "We'll see you later when you drop him off."

Tonks nodded, professed herself to be looking forward to catching up with him and Sirius a bit, and clomped upstairs. Harry shrugged at Draco, threw the Cloak aside, and they moved out front to depart.

Sirius caught Tonks on the stairs, where she offered a similar explanation, which he saw right through.

"You two are in some kind of epic fight, aren't you?" he sighed.

Tonks just crossed her arms stubbornly. "I'm going to take him into Muggle London, they won't even look for us there. You know I'm right."

"Of course I know you're right, and so does he. But you can't do it this way . . ."

"Already doing it, Sirius dear. Now budge up."

He groaned and moved aside. "I'd better go over there and sort him out," he mumbled, already heading out the door to the werewolf compound. "Tonks! If anything happens, he's going to kill me as well as you! Just keep that in mind!"

Her laughter floated down the stairs. "All in the plan, dear!"

The werewolves looked good, Harry thought to himself as he and Draco set up the cauldron in front of their ring of cabins. A goodly number of them had jobs, and the garden they cultivated was doing very well. They were going through something of a tragedy, Harry gathered from their subdued manner, but were at least in good health.

But the sorrowful feeling of the place was getting to him, and he knew they weren't wearing those sour expressions solely because he'd brought Draco along today. It was driving him mad with curiosity and worry, and he had to know.

"Remus," he said casually, taking the older man by the arm and leading him away from the group gathered about the cauldron of their treatment. "What's going on?"

Sirius, who had appeared only a moment ago with no explanation of his presence, jogged to catch up with them. Harry gave him a nod, but turned back to Remus immediately.

Remus' face fell into deep sadness. "Do you remember Gordon?"

Harry nodded, thinking. "Blond, going gray, little heavy-set?"

Remus let out a soft breath. "Yeah."

"Something happened to him?"

"We don't know," he whispered. "He's one of us that was working, and two days ago . . . he didn't return from work. We haven't seen him, or heard anything. We know he would simply leave like that, which leaves only one possibility."

Harry bit his lip and squeezed Remus' arm. "They would have found a way to contact you if they were keeping him alive. They'd only do that if they wanted something from you. I know it hurts, but at least you know he's not being held somewhere and tortured."

Sirius, who had been walking on Remus' other side, added, "Make sure you remind Natalie of that."

Remus nodded. "I've been trying to tell myself it's better that they killed him right away. But Gordon is the first of my people that I've lost to this thing. I can't accept it, and I can't let it happen again."

"Now I know why you and Tonks are having such a fight about spending time with Simon," Sirius said, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. He grimaced. "If I'd known about Gordon, I never would have let her go out with Simon . . ."

Remus shot Sirius a shocked look, his slow walk ceasing. "What?"
Sirius closed his eyes. "She didn't even tell you, did she?"

"She said she was going over to your place to talk to him for a bit and keep him from feeling like we've forgotten about him. And I was going to join her over there as soon as Harry and Draco were finished. They left?"

"She said they were going into Muggle London. She can blend in so well, I thought they'd be fine. But if they've identified all the werewolves, they'll be able to pick out Simon, anyway."

Remus had become very pale. "You don't know where they went?"

Sirius winced as his friend's hand gripped him too hard. "No, I don't. I'm sorry, Moony."

"That woman!" Remus burst out. "I can't believe she'd do something like this! Is she an Auror or is she an idiot? She knows better!"

Sirius and Harry both held onto him.

"Easy, there," Harry cautioned.

"You don't know where they went," Sirius said in his most level voice. "I know you're not going to just wait for them to come back, but we need to think about this before we go rushing off."

Remus let loose a wild laugh. "Normally it'd be me saying that to you."

"I know. That ought to tell you what kind of state you're in. So let's come up with a plan. We can both be recognised, and probably more easily than Tonks and Simon. So that's the first thing we have to figure out . . ."

Sirius' calm words seemed to be working, and Remus, while still tense, was no longer about to leap from their hands and run off on his own. Or, he wasn't until a misty, silvery wolf came streaking across the compound, its legs flashing madly, and swirled to a stop in front of them. And spoke.

"Remus!" it said in breathless panic. "Come quick! There's six of them and I can't take them by myself!"

Draco shot a scowl at Potter's retreating back, joined as it was with the forms of the older two men. Harry was supposed to be helping him dish out this potion and keep its contents in stasis while people were waiting their turn. Instead, Draco was acting the servant to a load of werewolves while Potter went for a stroll.

One of the werewolves was following the direction of his gaze and was frowning.

"That looks serious."

Neil. The man's name was Neil, which Draco ought to remember because he was so well-liked by Lupin and Black. He was doing what he could to keep himself in the good graces of those two men, since it was every bit as important to his survival as it was to stay in Potter's good graces.

Draco shrugged. "That's Potter for you. The most fun I've ever seen him have is trying to beat Black to a pulp."

"And vice versa, I wouldn't doubt," Neil said with a little chuckle. He swallowed his dose of the potion, using one hand to hold back long brown hair that was liberally streaked with gray. He frowned again. "I'd better go see what's afoot."

Suit yourself, Draco thought sourly. I'll just do everything myself, shall I?

Then a weird silvery shape darted to the group of four men and shouted in a voice that most improbably resembled his cousin Dora's. Who wasn't here. And weird silvery dog things could not sound like his cousin anyway.

Draco was ready to dismiss it all, but then his jaw dropped in shock as all four men barreled through the gates and let loose with the sharp cracks of Disapparation. The whole group of werewolves began to mutter and look very dire. Draco just sighed and kept his eyes on the potion. After all, someone ought to.

Tonks and Simon were very much enjoying themselves at the Muggle arcade. Tonks had made sure she picked one that she hadn't used to frequent during her earliest stint as an undercover Auror. Simon, who'd been without any type of video game for two years and had been desperately missing that part of his Muggle life, had suddenly decided they were the best of friends again.

Tonks knew that she was going about this all wrong, and her stomach was churning with guilt over this. Remus wanted them to be safe, and having Gordon go missing had made him even more strict than normal. But she was an Auror, after all, and she bloody knew what she was doing. She and Simon were wearing Muggle clothes, and she'd even let Simon do his hair up in psychotic-looking spikes that attracted absolutely zero attention. Her favourite clunky boots (that she hardly wore now that she was engaged to a man fourteen years older than her) were a common accessory around here. She happily turned her hair bubblegum pink, resolving that she'd set it back to brown before she and Simon returned to Grimmauld Place, where Remus was sure to be waiting for them and incredibly angry with her.

Her guilt wore off as they played a few games and ate the horrid food at the snack bar. Simon had warmed back up to her incredibly well. She hoped that his good mood would last a little longer, this time. Now that he could see she and Remus were really going to put forth some effort to spend time with him, despite how busy and dangerous their lives were right now.

She didn't know how she noticed, but she figured it out right in the middle of a violent shoot-out between her and her young charge. Eyes on the back of her neck. Someone staring at her. At first she thought it was just some guy taking in her nicer assets, but the feeling didn't let up. It was her first inkling that coming here wasn't such a good idea.

"Simon," she said very softly, continuing to play the game. "Keep your eyes on the screen, but listen."

Perhaps feeling some of her tension, he only mumbled, "Okay."

"Someone's watching us."

"Shit."

"Here's what we're going to do, okay? You're going to win this game just as soon as I finish talking—" and now she was praying with all her heart that the person watching them did not have the famous WWW Extendable Ears "—and we're going to walk out of here just like nothing is wrong. I can't take care of the problem with all these Muggles around."

"But you can take care of it, can't you?" he whispered, his eyes tight and anxious as he continued to look at the screen.

"Of course. But you need to stay out of the way, okay?"

"I can help," he said with a frown.

"Simon. A month of Harry's training does not mean you're ready to face this kind of fight. You barely know which end of a wand to hold and I've never seen you land a punch yet. I'm not ragging on you, Simon. I'm just saying that you're not ready for this. I need you to let me work."

"Fine," he grumped.

"There's an alley right next to this building. We'll walk into there, but you'll duck right back out of it as soon as the other guy follows us in. I'll take care of him."

"All right."

Tonks stopped shooting and seconds later was letting out a load, theatrical groan. "Oh, you got me good," she said, slapping Simon on the back. "I can't believe it!"

Simon did not know how to act, especially not under threat. "Um," he mumbled.

She just kept her hand on his back and started guiding him out. "Come on, we'd better make that the last game. We're already late getting back."

Which was true enough, but they'd been having too much fun to notice before this trouble had cropped up. Tonks led them swiftly out of the arcade, dodging the crowd of teenagers with the ease of practice rather than any innate grace. She avoided all of the people only to slam her knee into a trash bin near the door.

"Ooo," she moaned.

Simon, despite his tension, snickered. He'd gotten to know her quirks of clumsiness by now. All in all, it was good that he was laughing. Too much tension and the person following them would know that they were on to him. Tonks limped directly around the corner and into the alley. As soon as the hulking man came into view, she shoved Simon back out of the mouth of the alley toward the street, where lights and prying eyes ought to keep him safe.

Simon slammed into a veritable wall of bodies. "Oh," he whispered, staring at the ring of men with huge eyes. "Oh, shit."

"I'm in for it now," Tonks mumbled. The bright, leering eyes of six men topped six grins—three of them with the most disgustingly discoloured and sharpened teeth. Greyback's feral pack. Not good. She immediately sent out her Patronus to her fiancée, the only thing she could think of to do at this point, and then shouted, "Simon, come here!"

He stumbled back half-blind, looking shocked and pale.

"Behind me, now," she said tersely, and held her wand up. "Who wants to try me first?" she said with bravado, hoping it was too dark for them to see her knees knocking.

They just laughed.

There had been no words spoken between them, just a sudden rush to get out of the anti-Apparation wards, then Remus was following the trail of Tonks' Patronus (stronger for him than for them), and they were desperately jumping into the wake of his passage and hoping to end up in the same place.

Harry cracked into being beside the other men, his wand still hidden until he knew where they were. They were on the street in front of a Muggle arcade, and Harry wasn't immediately sure what they were doing there. But of course the attackers, or maybe Tonks herself, had cast notice-me-not charms all over the place by now. They might be fighting for their lives an inch in front of Harry's nose. But likely they would be . . .

"There!" Sirius barked out, rushing forward toward the dark alley. Everyone else was right at his heels, while he cast the spells that would allow them through any barrier that might have been put up. As they entered the mouth of the alley, they were suddenly able to see everything.

There was a man slumped on the ground at Tonks' feet, and she was trying to hold two other men at bay while maintaining the curse she'd placed on a fourth that was on his knees in front of her, pale and sweating and glaring at her with his teeth clenched against his screams.

"Not nice, what you're doing to Jugson," one of the men said with a foul smile as he danced past her spells.

"Afraid Gibbon and I are going to have to punish you for that," the other man agreed.

"Maybe we'll feed you to Creedy and Blake there," Gibbon said, almost giggling.

Two dirty-looking men, presumably Creedy and Blake, had hold of Simon's arms and were laughing with good humour at his frantic attempts to free himself. They were large, rangy, and ugly. Obviously Greyback's wolves, and the unconscious bloke probably was another.

Simon was wild. "Leave her alone!" he raged, his feet lashing out with stunning accuracy. "You can have me, but let her go!" His foot connected with one man's shin, and in his moment of pain, Simon jerked his arm free, which he used to elbow the man in the gut and cause him to stumble back. It was a short-lived victory, since the other man twisted both Simon's arms up behind him and savagely bit into his shoulder. Simon screamed.

Tonks was being overcome. But there was no need to worry about that. Remus was running, flat-out running, and he launched himself on top of the man called Gibbon with a hoarse yell.

"Don't you touch my family!" he snarled, grabbing the man by the hair and slamming his head into the dirty asphalt. Then he leapt on the second attacker, who was just staring at him with shock. They hit the ground and rolled, throwing blows and spells alike.

Sirius and Neil had quickly made sure of Tonks' two victims, and were now dueling the man who had been holding Simon (either Creedy or Blake, though the man himself was likely the only one who cared). Simon, free of his captor, stumbled toward Tonks and fell into her arms. But the other werewolf was about to throw himself into the fight.

"I could use some help, Blake!" the one dueling Sirius and Neil shouted. Creedy, then.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted, taking Blake's wand quickly. The werewolf just bared his teeth and began rushing at Harry.

Harry was carrying the Elder Wand. He had decided to begin using it to get an affinity for it, and he'd expected to use it for nothing more than simple work today. He certainly hadn't anticipated this. And he was certainly not going to lose it if Blake had designs that way. He shoved it back into his arm holster, dropping Blake's on the ground and stomping on it to break it.

Blake howled, pausing in shock at the sight of the splintered ends of his wand. Then he rushed forward again. Harry waited. Blake lunged forward, swinging one of his huge, long arms like he was going to sweep Harry's head right from his shoulders.

Harry moved by instinct, each thing a separate piece and yet still all part of the same graceful destruction.

He ducked under Blake's punch, and grabbed hold of the swinging arm. He turned, while Blake barreled on. He yanked upward sharply while he planted his feet. He could both hear and feel the snapping of Blake's arm. Harry placed his other hand and twisted again, both splintering the bone and dislocating the shoulder. Blake went mostly limp. Harry wanted to be sure. Holding Blake by the hair, he slammed the man's face into the wall a few times.

Harry dropped Blake's moaning form.

A spell shot past his shoulder.

His Shield Charm slammed into place with a speed bred into him by countless ambushes from the DL.

He turned and saw that Sirius and Neil were still trying to bring down Creedy. Creedy had backed up almost into Harry, but Sirius and Neil were too focused to concern themselves with Harry's safety. They trusted him to take care of himself.

And so Harry did. His shields were barely enough to block out the flying spells, but he remained silent . He dodged and ducked and crept his way forward until he was directly behind Creedy. Then he wrapped his right arm around the man's throat and locked it there by gripping his right wrist with his left hand.

Creedy's eyes bugged out and he windmilled his arms, trying to get at Harry and free himself. His spells immediately ceased. Harry used his foot to hook Creedy's ankle and yank his leg out from under him, pulling him backward with the straining arm over his throat. Creedy fell back on him, and Harry went down on his knees, leaning back, never loosening his hold. He sank down to the pavement, almost as if he wanted to cradle the other man's head in his lap. But he stayed in a crouch, and kept the leverage he needed to maintain his grip. Creedy's arms flopped, then twitched, and finally stilled.

Harry cautiously released his hold before he actually killed the man. He was unconscious, and his throat was so bruised that he'd be in a complete panic when he woke up. Harry cast a Body Bind on both of the two men with quick efficiency.

Sirius and Neil had watched this all with surprise, and now they all turned to Remus. He'd gotten the upper hand on the as-yet-unnamed man who'd been attacking Tonks, long since. He'd also cast aside his wand. He was simply beating the man slowly to death.

"Remus," Neil attempted. "Stop!"

The man was fixed on what he was doing, eyes frantic with fear and rage.

"Remus!" Sirius roared.

Remus looked up, seeming confused. The other two men reached down and hauled him away from the slightly mangled man moaning beneath him. He allowed himself to be lifted up and set on his feet, a safe distance from his victim. He finally saw Tonks and Simon standing there, arms around one another and watching him silently.

He looked down at his own blood-spattered hands with horror. He made a vain attempt to wipe them on his shirt. Then he fell right onto his arse on the ground, making no effort to stop himself, and just sat there, breathing heavily and staring at his hands.

Tonks approached. "Remus, it's okay now."

"Dora?" he said, as if he didn't know it was her.

She knelt down beside him. He recoiled. She cautiously took one of his hands and looked at it. "Oh, dear, your hand is all torn," she said in a quiet, sympathetic voice. "You'll have to get it fixed up."

He nodded dumbly. "Dora, are you all right?" he asked. "You and Simon—are you hurt?"

"No, darling," she said tenderly, kissing his raw knuckles. "Thank you for coming."

"I didn't even think . . . they were hurting you. Hurting my family."

"I know."

Neil stepped forward. "Let's get this situation contained, all right?" he said brusquely. "Tonks, you need to get in touch with your office and get some Obliviators out here, there had to be at least a few Muggles who saw us fighting. We need a whole squad of Aurors out here to make these arrests."

His no-nonsense tone seemed to wake Remus up, and Tonks let him go so that they could deal with the aftermath of their fight. Rufus Scrimgeour himself came down to oversee the arrests and get Tonks' report, and told them all good work in a rather disbelieving tone. Well, who would believe that a schoolteacher, a teenagers, and two unemployed misfits could take down six Death Eaters, with or without one of his top Aurors?

And he really didn't like Harry. The young man was cajoling and steadying his shaken friends, and answering the Aurors' questions, dealing with the now-arriving press . . . not seeming to care that he was in danger just by being in public. Scrimgeour was beginning think his rival in the next election was not to be Amelia Bones.

They declined the suggestion of medical attention, believing (and rightly so) that the hospital was less help and more exposure to a second attack. They went back to Grimmauld Place to sort themselves out, knowing that their injuries from the scuffle were minor enough to be treated by Draco's stock.

Draco was there when they arrived, working in the room that had ceased to be a makeshift temporary solution and more like an actual Potions lab. He stood up from a stool as the group tramped in, eyes wide with shock.

"What were you lot doing?" he asked in awe.

"Fighting," Tonks said grimly. "And get used to this sight, that's what we keep you around for, cousin."

They all said that Simon should be treated first, but Draco was not a Healer and was really only useful in being able to quickly locate the supplies he'd laid up. Harry stepped in to treat Simon's ravaged shoulder, familiar with this scenario. Sirius had scrupulously avoided werewolf bites during his stint as guardian in Austria, but he'd been bitten by vampires enough. Simon should have relaxed as he basked in safety and the relief of pain, but Harry could feel that he was still wound up tight.

"What's wrong?" he murmured, hearing the others talking amongst one another and hoping Simon would be honest in this small window of privacy.

"I know you have things to do, but I need to learn how to fight. Soon."

"Ah," Harry said, patting his good shoulder. "I don't think you'll get any arguments. Sirius will teach you."

Tonks went next. She'd been struck by something that left burns streaking across her lower ribcage, her knee was badly bruised, and there were claw marks on her calf that she wanted cleaned out in case they got infected. Harry and Draco dispatched her quickly, and also made short work of Neil's minor burn, which looked like Tonks' but grazed his hip and thigh. Sirius had been subjected to some kind of cutting curse, which had opened several gashes on his face. Harry closed them quickly and Draco surrendered some of his supply of dittany, but it seemed likely to scar. His friends were dismayed on his behalf. Far from caring, Sirius thought that was great news.

"It matches my collection, see," he joked, fingering a savage leftover from a vampire bite on his neck, and tracing several long remnants of werewolf claws down his forearm. "I'd show you the rest, but our relationship isn't that serious yet," he said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at Neil.

Harry strongly suspected he was more bothered by the possibility of scars on his cheeks that he was letting on, but it was something he wouldn't care to discuss until he and Harry were alone.

And then came Remus. They'd left him for last, because he was a mess. His scraped knuckles were the least of his worries. One of his ankles was hot and swollen, his face had turned into a lumpy, red-purple mask, and he was bleeding from myriad small scrapes. He'd also been hit by a curse that had caused oozing welts to spring up all along his arms and chest. It took all of them to figure out how to treat that. Remus sat there placidly while they worked on him, so quiet and withdrawn that Harry was afraid he was thinking something stupid. Up to Tonks to sort him out, he decided. That was her job, now.

"All right, Potter, enough with the heroics," Draco snipped when Tonks led Remus downstairs. "Your turn."

Harry frowned, and began patting himself down. "Uh . . ."

Draco stared at him. In fact, so did Simon, Neil, and Sirius.

Harry didn't have a mark on him.

Remus sat on the couch, curled up to Tonks' chest, and trembled. "I'd forgotten," he muttered. "I'd forgotten what this was like. I haven't been in a fight like that since I was twenty years old."

Tonks, still riding a high of fear and adrenaline, giggled a bit hysterically. "I just finished Auror training and started doing all this fighting when I was twenty."

Remus made a face. "You really do love to point out the discrepancy in our ages."

"I'm only beating you to it," she said, kissing him softly on the forehead. "You make enough fuss about it."

He grasped her hand, far too hard. "Dora," he said fervently. "When I saw the danger you were in . . . I couldn't think anymore. I was so afraid. I don't even know what happened. I thought I was afraid, and then I was tussling with that man and beating him like I was some kind of savage . . . what have I done?"

"You saved me," she said quietly, wincing as her hand began to throb. "I would have died if you hadn't come."

"But what I did to him . . ."

"You beat him up, Remus. So what? You could have done it with a wand, and instead you did it with your fists. Either way, you did what was necessary to put a stop to what he was doing."

"I can't see it that way."

"That's because you're afraid of yourself, and I'm not."

"You're not afraid of anything," he said with a distinctly sour note in his voice.

"Don't," she said sternly. "Just don't."

"How could you, Dora? You just took Simon out like there was nothing wrong. You knew that you could have been in danger, and you acted like it didn't matter."

"I can't live like that!" she snapped. "I can't sit and wait for the apocalypse to land on my doorstep! If it comes, I'd rather it came while I was out there, living my life!"

Remus dropped his eyes to his mending hands. "So you think that I'm a coward?"

"No," she said. "I think you've got a lot of demands on you and that you're doing an admirable job of meeting them. But it can't last forever, and I'm afraid that you're losing touch with things outside the compound. You promised that you were working so hard at getting the laws changed because you wanted you and the other werewolves to become more integrated into society. But you're drawing away, instead."

"Am I?" he said quietly. "I'm sorry, Dora. I know I am. I just . . . there are so many people depending on me, and I want to keep them safe. The Death Eaters aren't the only enemies we have." There were tears in his eyes. "I've been fighting to be treated like a human for a long time. I was so tired, and so close to giving up, before I met you. You're the reason I kept going. And now I have to find the strength to keep up the hope of all those other people. Now we're in this war, and every step forward we make is nulled by reports of Greyback's men, and it seems hopeless . . . it's gotten easier to retreat."

"Easier doesn't make it right," she said, but she was clinging to him, taking the sting from her words with the embrace. They weren't arguing, and she wasn't having to talk him out of a deep depression in which he believed he was a monster. They were making progress.

"No, it doesn't. If I forgive you for turning the rest of my hair gray, will you forgive me for being selfish?"

She snuggled into him. "I suppose I have to. For the baby's sake."

With a contented sigh, he laid his cheek in her hair. Then his arms stiffened around her. "What did you say?"

"Despite Auntie Narcissa being so disapproving of you, I think she'll be rather disappointed that we have to rush the wedding."

He pulled back and stared at her. "The wedding? Baby?"

She nodded, her lips trembling as she tried to hold back her tears. She wasn't ready for this, she really wasn't, she was only twenty-three and she still had years in which to make mistakes and cause mayhem before she settled down, but she loved him so much that it made her feel like she was tearing in half . . .

"I'm pregnant, Remus. Are you going to make an honest woman of me, or aren't you?"

He gaped at her, his mouth open in shock. She felt her tears beginning to leak out. Merlin, she hated crying. His hand rose up to cup her cheek, smearing her tears.

"Don't cry," he mumbled, still in shock. "You're . . . we're going to have a baby?"

"Yes."

He cupped her face with hands gone strangely gentle, staring at her. A light began to glow behind his eyes, and the corners of his lips curved up.

"I have never met a woman more honest than you are," he proclaimed. "But I'd like to marry you anyway."

"How's next week?"

"Next week?"

"It would be nice to have a honeymoon before I'm too far along to enjoy it."

He glanced down at her flat belly, but his hands were still on her face. "Good point."

They sealed it with a kiss, and the past weeks of fear and arguments and hurt simply disappeared.

Barty Crouch had lived a great deal of his life in misery. Misery, he was finding out, conditioned one to receiving disappointments but did little to prepare one for experiencing abject fear. Which he was currently experiencing. The perks of being one of the most trusted servants of the Dark Lord were counterbalanced by several rather large drawbacks. The aftermath of delivering bad news, for example, had never been good.

Their master was not here yet, and Barty caught Severus staring at him from his place in the corner. He was gloating over the fact that it was not his turn, somewhere under that implacable exterior. He wouldn't be so calm if he had to be the one to tell their master what had happened . . . Barty focused on his anger against Severus Snape. It did some to lessen the trembling that had set in.

He had to be the one to tell, because he was the one who had issued the orders. It would have been Bellatrix, but she had said that no one was so stupid as to make such a public appearance, and that it was obviously a trap. But Barty had thought he was so smart . . . Said six of them ought to be able to fight it out. Do damage, if nothing else. And since the only allies he believed that their target had were werewolves, he'd been certain that sending three of Greyback's men would do the trick.

He'd been so eager to tell their master what he'd done for him. It would be such a huge blow to the morale of the enemy to lose a woman and a child. It would prove that none of them were safe, so much more clearly than Greyback tearing apart that fool Gordon. But there was nothing to be eager about now.

Death Eaters were always composed, always restrained (except Bellatrix, who hardly counted), and they never showed fear. They couldn't afford to appear weak in front of one another, because they knew all too well that the others would exploit their weakness—knew it because they would do it if the situation were reversed. But Barty was beyond that, now. He had to tell the Dark Lord just how badly he had failed, and the punishment to follow would be . . . beyond comprehension.

Barty put his head down and breathed heavily, trying not to throw up. Bellatrix was almost laughing, while at her side, her husband sneered at Barty. Lucius was just giving him a cold look. But Severus abruptly stood up and left the room. Can't even be in the same room as a little weakness? Barty thought to himself. He'd never know that Snape had left because he entertained thoughts of trying to save the man and was ill at the thought that there was nothing he could do.

Seconds later, their master strode into the room, his usual regal bearing in place. He swept his eyes over them. "Where is Severus?" he asked peevishly.

"Left for a moment," Yaxley volunteered.

The Dark Lord's eyes swept the room, and came to rest on Barty. "What has happened?"

He was breathing heavily, and he was pale, and sweaty, and shaking . . . he stood up, held up his head, and steadied himself. He would face this punishment with dignity. He had failed, and he deserved this, but it didn't mean he had lost his pride completely.

"I have failed you, my lord," he murmured. And he spilled out the story of discovering Nymphadora Tonks and Simon Billings on their own, of sending Jugson and the rest to take them, and then stumbled his way through the outcome of that attack.

His master took a deep breath, causing his odd, slitted nostrils to flare. He was holding back his ire, but Barty could see it flashing in his eyes and his trembling became worse than ever.

"What you are telling me, Barty, is that you have caused six of my loyal Death Eaters to be injured and arrested. And that by so doing, several of our secrets are now known to the Aurors and the Ministry. You are telling me that in your eagerness to please me, you did not consider any of several possibilities that Bellatrix obviously did consider, and pointed out to you to show you the error of your thinking."

"I have failed you, my lord," Barty repeated, and went to his knees.

"Most disappointingly so, Barty." His voice was almost caressing, like cold silk. The anger he had was building up, obviously so, but he sounded almost . . . kind. "And the consequences shall be tremendous. I am sorry that it has come to this, after the trust I placed in you."

Severus couldn't avoid the room forever, and eventually all of the loyal Death Eaters were there to see Barty's pain and listen to him scream. None of them enjoyed it. Barty was placed so high, was such a loyal servant, but none of them could deny that the foolishness of his actions deserved punishment. And none of them could stop their master, in any case. They could only sit in stony silence until it was over.

In the end, Severus and Lucius were the ones who volunteered to bury Barty's body. No one else was willing to touch it.