Chapter 11
"I've got a hunger, twisting my stomach into knots."
Death Cab for Cutie – The Sound of Settling

Under the dim lights of Café Angelo's, Harry told his tale. They finished their dinner and the bottle of wine and then the next bottle and finally a third. All very nice vintages. Draco was pleased.

Harry talked for hours and Draco listened to every word he spoke. Initially, Harry sort of babbled and Draco knew there was no way he could conclusively make sense of what the man was saying. But after Harry's initial rush to get out what he could—a very vague and unruly overview—he went back to the beginning and laid it all out. Only the facts. Draco appreciated that Harry didn't colour his telling of the research with his own opinions or deductions.

"It all started when Millicent Bulstrode came to Hermione to see if she could discover anything about a curse that was cast on her. It seemed to have completely destroyed all of her magic—left her a squib. This happened after she was approached by some of Voldemort's old followers—those we hadn't nabbed for whatever reason—and she'd met up with them at some gathering."

Draco nodded, urging Harry to continue. He hadn't told Harry about Greg being contacted as well, most likely by the same group. He still waited for his old friend to get back to him with anything that might fill in the gaps of their faint comprehension.

"In her notes, Hermione said she couldn't figure out anything about the curse; it wasn't anything she'd ever come across through any of her research or experiments. She was pretty impressed by it." Harry smiled tenderly. "She had a few leads, most of them she had already traced, such as some connections she had at her University, an Order member, and Arbormore from Cairo, who was a total dickhead," Harry grumbled. "None of these were any help, especially since Bulstrode insisted her name not be brought up in any of Hermione's inquiries." Harry paused, looking off over Draco's shoulder; eyes squinted slightly as if trying to remember something. "And then Bulstrode told Hermione that more people were approaching her about being drained of magic, too… most of them were at the same gatherings she'd attended." He finished his glass and poured himself another.

"So at this point, Hermione knew, through Bulstrode, that old Death Eaters and Voldemort sympathizers were gathering and that this curse was spreading, mainly through those ranks. She wasn't sure what other avenues to take. She wanted to talk to me and Ron, but again Bulstrode wouldn't let Hermione tell anyone about it, especially people who might know her."

Harry rolled his eyes and then turned his striking gaze on Draco. It sent a shiver over his skin, causing goose bumps to bloom across his forearms. Pure intensity.

"And at this point, Hermione contacted you."

"Oh," Draco said. "I see." He took a sip of his wine. "And…" He twirled his hand, gesturing as if to say 'go on with it'.

"And you two apparently chatted. Who better to touch bases with than her old Death Eater spy?" Draco almost felt insulted, but it wasn't like what Harry said was a lie. "She didn't know who you were at first, as you well know. When she finally did learn your identity and tried to meet with you, she got cursed."

"You know I had nothing to do with that." Draco had an oddly strong desire to have Harry believe him.

Harry dropped his eyes to the table, his features softening. "I know you didn't. It's just hard…" Harry sat silently for a few moments. Draco began to wonder if he was going to continue, but then Harry spoke again. "Anyway, then you found her in your alley and she now lies in a bed at St. Mungo's while the curse continues to spread."

"Spread?" Draco asked, shocked. "How do you know that?"

With a heavy sigh, Harry explained what he found in the healer's secret files. "I was given a large collection of medical papers concerning what one person thought of as an epidemic. Initially there were a few people who came in with the same symptoms as Bulstrode. No magic. A lethargy often accompanying it. The healers ran a barrage of tests searching for both magical and Muggle diseases. They were all under quarantine in fact. Eventually they attributed the effects to a curse, one they hadn't come across before. And then more and more people started showing up with the same symptoms, though to a lesser degree. Their quarantine did nothing; after more tests they realised it didn't spread on its own, but had to be specifically cast each time. Each individual had to have been cursed by someone."

Draco held his breath at this revelation. Who would be cursing all of these people and why?

"Eventually," Harry continued, "those previously reduced to squibs started showing signs of magical usage again and in time more and more of their power came back. They thought that the curse was of limited duration. All of this was kept confidential. Nothing leaked to the public and my contact initially believed the media blackout was to still any potential panic from the populace."

"Initially?" Draco asked. This entire situation was growing in ways he had no previous conjecture about.

"My contact continued her research into the curse well after everyone was discharged with a clean bill of health. According to her reports, the victims still didn't feel up to full strength. However, St. Mungo's declared they were fine and it would take some time for a full recovery. After her supervisor found out about her continued research, she was told to stop. She didn't, but covered her tracks better. This is when she made the connection between Hermione's curse and this magical epidemic that had popped up throughout the wizarding community. It was the same curse. Hermione's was acting different because there was another spell affecting her. My contact believes it could be attributed to something experimental Hermione might have been working with." Harry took a deep breath. His speech slowed after so much wine, but he still had that look of apprehension on his face. Draco continued to listen.

"My contact also found out that many of those that were released healthy… well, their files had been altered. Not only that… she tried to interview some of them about how they were feeling and they didn't know what she was talking about… they'd been Obliviated." Draco's breath hitched and his eyes grew wide. "Then, her continued snooping was discovered and they threatened her… When I say they, you might as well use a capitol T with it. They. Them. She had no idea who threatened her and had no idea who watched her. That was when she came to me and dropped her collection of medical evidence in my lap." Harry's eyes clouded over, hidden pain surfacing, a look Draco had never seen in the man before. "She asked me to alter her memories… and I did it. I stole her thoughts from her." He grabbed his glass and drank more of the sweet wine.

"And another thing. At first the people who were cursed were mainly those who attended the Death Eater garden party…" Draco nodded. "After that more and more who became infected were Ministry personnel." Harry stared hard at Draco. "And then, as it seemed to be 'cured' or at least weakened, more of the people who became affected had no connection to either Death Eaters or the Ministry. Just normal citizens." Harry leaned back in his chair, a look of pure exhaustion dimming his normal vibrancy. "And now… I think they got Kingsley."

"What do you mean?" Draco interrupted. Kingsley had been one of Draco's main supporters after the war. He'd actually grown fond of the Auror, much to his own surprise, even though he threw his weight around far too readily to get what he wanted.

"Not sure… I think he's cursed… not the same curse according to the medical files, but something is controlling him, like an Imperius. He broke it long enough to give me this." Harry leaned over and placed a filthy little paper on the table before Draco. On it was scrawled the word Mexico.

"What does this mean?" Draco asked. None of it made sense, but he was sure it would have made more sense if he hadn't partaken in so much decadence that evening. His brain was addled and the rich wine had caused him to grow sleepy.

"I was hoping you could help me make some sense out of it," Harry said, by now his words blurring together in a thick, alcoholic ripple. "But there's more. Isn't there always more?" Harry's chuckle was dry. "Something's off with the Ministry. I don't know what it is but the best way I can describe it is if you stand below a Muggle power station and you feel the electricity in the air. Like that. But more subtle. And something's funky with the Minister. Not sure if this all connects, but…" he shrugged.

Draco's eyes had been drooping slightly but he viciously shook his head at the new revelation, tossing his hair more than was dignified. "Shite. Potter, this is big. Unfortunately, I think," he took a sip of wine, "it would make more sense in the morning." He nodded to himself, as if confirming a universal truth.

Harry just stared at him, a slightly distracted look to those usually brilliant eyes. With a quick blink he seemed to snap out of his daze. "You're probably right," he agreed, his previous exuberance waning. "Wanna call it a night and meet in the morning?" Harry dropped the spells surrounding them with a blink of his eye and called for the bill.

Draco knew this was a wise choice, but he enjoyed listening to the pile of clues and facts that fit into some grander scheme, enjoyed spending time with someone who didn't think of him as a boss or someone to suck up to. Didn't think of him as a Death Eater. He enjoyed being with Harry. Damn, he was drunk.

"Yeah. I'll Floo over in the morning," Draco said as he stood.

The waiter arrived with the bill and a queer look at the two men. Harry just smiled brightly at the man who quickly smiled back as he walked away. To Draco, Harry said, "Sometimes they seem shocked to realise I was there the entire time when I conceal myself in a public place." Then he noticed the bill. "Hell Draco… this definitely makes us even." And with another broad smile, this time directed at Draco, he dropped a rather impressive pile of Galleons on the table.

"Well, see ya tomorrow," he said. There was a pregnant pause full of expectancy. Draco noticed Harry's eyes kept dropping to the table, or his hands, not meeting his own.

"Good night, Harry. And thank you. For dinner." Draco thought he sounded like a blubbering fool, but when Harry finally met his eyes and delivered another brilliant smile, Draco was sure it was worth it. Harry's smiles had become more desirable than cases of the fine wines they'd just enjoyed.

"Good night, Draco." Harry Disapparated away. Draco stood there a few moments longer, staring at the spot only seconds before occupied by Harry. Then he too Disapparated.

He hungered… or thirsted if you wanted to be technical about it. But Remus wasn't about to give into any basal needs such as sweet liquor trailing down his willing tongue… STOP. He could do this. He would do this.

For a blazing, burning, terrible five days he'd remained sober. Every time an urge to drink would overtake him, he would grab his plunger, leave the flat and wander the streets of London. The combination of plunger and wandering seemed to take his mind off his demanding vice. He hoped it would continue to work as the moon grew full and his control slipped. Damn, what he would give for some Wolfsbane Potion.

Harry had asked him to find Millicent Bulstrode and while most of his connections were a bit rusty, he still had some friends on the nark side of Britain who he hoped would help him.

It took him some time to find an old associate. Most seemed to have moved to new hunting grounds as the old ones became less safe or others just offered more promise. Through Mundungus Fletcher he discovered a new haunt for the spooks, The Devil's Hook. It sat in a seedy part of London that wasn't quite a wizarding section, but housed quite a collection of wizard shops nonetheless. If it continued to grow at this consistent rate, it would eventually rival Knockturn Alley. Just what London needed.

So, as his body screamed for him to feed it what it wanted, what it needed—I can hold on… I fight the wolf, do I not? This is nothing— he staunchly ignored it and entered The Devil's Hook.

It had been a long time, since the war really, that he had frequented a rat trap like this dive. His sensitive nose quivered against the stench of warm beer and rancid bodies. Even in the low light he could see the whites of many eyes swivel in his direction. He was a newcomer, someone to avoid.

He strode up to the bar with confidence and ordered tonic water. His nerve endings sang for a shot of something, anything hard, but he bit down on it, bullied it and dominated it into submission. He was the master here.

But Merlin it was difficult.

He took a seat in the back of the dive, drawing less attention from the other patrons. Scanning the crowd he recognized a few faces and one of them actually made eye contact. He stood and wandered to the inhabited table.

"Duncan," Remus said with a nod.

"Alright Lupin? Ya been missing for a while." Duncan pronounced things with a long drawl. His frame looked exceptionally thin and his face painfully gaunt. Everything about the man was stretched.

"You could say that." He took a sip from his glass and winced. It was terrible. He set the glass down on the scarred and scorched table. "What's new?"

"Ya back in the gathering business?" Duncan asked, gesturing that Remus should take a seat.

Remus casually pulled the chair from the table and sat in it. It never looked good to act too eager. "Been removed from the world so long, just curious."

"Yeah, right." Duncan laughed. He pronounced the word 'yeauw'. "You know somethin's up. Ya gots a nose fer it."

Remus grinned, shaking his head. He knew how to play the game. Tigus Duncan wasn't a man you screwed with and he never gave up anything for free. But he had his own sense of honour and Remus understood that.

"Well, I've heard a thing or two and wanted to know if there was any truth to it."

"What ya hear?"

"Some old pals getting together for a reunion." Remus lifted his glass again, more to keep his hands occupied, to cultivate a careless manner, than to bring the swill to his lips.

"Ya don't say?"

"It's what I heard."

Duncan harrumphed and sat back in his chair. A few people watched them cautiously from the bar and from a long line of tables to the left where figures sat shadowed in secrets and lies. Remus almost missed this.

"Well," Duncan said, drawing the word out in two syllables, "why don't ya meet me out back in a few?"

Remus nodded and looked away, cataloguing who was watching them as Duncan stood and left the Hook. One man wouldn't take his eyes off Remus. The man's name didn't immediately emerge from his faded memory but Remus did recognize him. A true salesman. Anything for sale to anyone. With a feral glare and a twitch to his lip he stared the man down and then left before anyone else pegged who he was.

He walked around the block and soon arrived at the back of the bar. Duncan stood to one side, a hat pulled low over his forehead. "Let's go," Remus said, and they walked down the alley, dodging overturned trashcans and piles of rubbish. There was an overpowering scent of piss in the air.

"What do you know?" he asked Duncan under his breath.

"What do'ya plan on doing with the info, buddy? The war's over."

"I know… this is personal."

"It'll cost ya… "

"Tell me what you know and I'll pay you what it's worth." Remus jangled his pocket, sounding the Galleons resting there, all from Sirius' old vault, now in Harry's name.

"Sure, some of yer old pals had met, but it ain't nothin'. Fact, I don't think they're meeting much anymore, maybe fer a game of pinochle now and then."

"Why?"

"Someone gathered 'em. Someone who made promises." Duncan cleared his throat. "Promises that were sweet but turned sour when broke."

"And…" Remus knew there was more that Duncan wasn't saying… he could smell it off him through the stink of urine.

"Somethin' happened to the people who showed. Some of 'em went squib. They say it were a Ministry plot to try to destroy the power behind the purebloods and old supporters of You- Know-Who." Duncan whispered low but Remus heard every word.

"Went squib? As in lost their magic?" That's what happened to Bulstrode. Remus was on the right track.

"Yup."

"Do you know anyone that this happened to?"

"Lots of 'em. But they all got it back. Though if rumor's right," Duncan looked nervous, "it ain't come back full."

"You?" Remus guessed.

Duncan looked away, refusing to answer.

"Do you know if a witch was there, large witch with thick, black hair… Bulstrode. Millicent Bulstrode?"

The blood from Duncan's face seemed to have decided there were better places to be and drained away. "What ya getting' at, Lupin?" Duncan demanded, words pressed through gritted teeth.

Remus shook his head, he hadn't expected that reaction. "What do you know? I need to speak with her."

"Ain't no speakin' with her no more. She's dead."

"What!" Remus said a little too loudly.

"I can't talk no more. Keep yer money and keep out of it." Duncan turned away towards the alley exit.

Remus grabbed Duncan's arm and kept hold as the man tried to pull away. "You've all been cursed, Duncan. I think Bulstrode was one of the first."

"She talked and now she's dead. I ain't talkin' no more." His accent deepened as the man's dread strengthened.

"Who was it? Who asked you to the meeting? Please, Duncan!" Remus whispered frantically.

"Dunno where it came from. It were all word of mouth. I heard from a friend who heard from someone else. Ya know how it goes, Lupin."

"Was there anyone at the meeting who didn't fit?"

Duncan stopped a moment, the panic lifting as he searched his memory. "Yea. A few folks I hadn't met. One guy really stood out to me, though he tried his damnedest to fit in. Everyone else seemed to accept him, but he set off my alarm bells, ya know what I mean?" Those last few words all blended together into one large clump of sound. "It were like he knew he didn't belong. Plus he had real short hair, like a Muggle military man."

Gears shifted in Remus' brain. Didn't Harry tell him about an Auror who was out to get him with very short hair? The man must have been there undercover. But still, Remus thought it might be an interesting point to pass on.

"Listen, Duncan… If there's anything else… This could be very, very important. You know how to contact me if you think of anything else."

Duncan nodded and Remus let him go. "Sure Lupin, but don't count on it." The other man darted through the debris in the alley and out of sight.

About the time Draco Flooed to Hermione's flat--now more accurately the Harry and Remus residence--Remus, who had already risen, was frying breakfast. There was no sign of Harry.

"Lupin," Draco greeted.

"Good morning, Malfoy. Would you like some bacon?" Remus offered. He seemed gruff to Draco, but what did he expect from a werewolf, especially only a week away from the full moon.

"Just bacon?" he asked.

"I like bacon. I could make something else…" Remus said.

"No, a slice of bacon would be nice."

The two sat down at the table, Draco with a slice of bacon and Remus with a pile. With feral relish Remus dove into the plate of pork with his fingers. Draco watched him out of the corner of his eye and carefully cut up his slice with a knife and fork.

"So," Draco broke through the sound of crunching, "where is Potter anyway?"

"Sleeping," Remus said between mouthfuls, finally slowing down after about eight pieces, not that Draco was counting.

"Still? It's 9 a.m. Does he plan on sleeping through our meeting?"

Remus looked up at Draco, licking a finger. "I could wake him if you'd like. He returned home later than even I did, though. I haven't had a chance to tell him what I found out."

Draco thought about last night and his features softened. They had been out fairly late. He had enjoyed himself with Harry. Remus glanced at him curiously, lips glistening with fat, and Draco quickly schooled himself.

"And did you find out anything worthwhile last night?" Draco asked. "And do you mind…" Remus' table manners had finally been too much.

With a completely sheepish look, which was amusing for a werewolf, Remus put down his bacon, wiped off his hands on a paper napkin and apologized. "I'm sorry. Sometimes near the full moon…" he shrugged. His hazel eyes seemed twitchy; in fact after Draco paused to actually look at Remus, he noticed the man seemed quite agitated.

"Are the changes worse?" he asked, purely out of scientific curiosity, he told himself.

"What?" Remus seemed startled. "Yes. They are." He was very matter of fact about it.

"Does the Wolfsbane not help anymore?"

A cloud crossed Remus' brow. "Wolfsbane! What Wolfsbane? That formula died with Severus."

"Um, well actually it didn't," said Draco.

"What?" Remus stood and leaned over the table towards Draco. "What do you mean?" Remus grew louder with each word.

"I know how to brew it," Draco said in a calm voice as the werewolf loomed over him.

Remus' face immediately blanked, and he plunked down in his chair rather unceremoniously. His eyes did not move from Draco. A very heavy silence settled between the two.

Then, both men spoke.

"Would you like me to beg?" Remus growled.

"Would you like me to make it for you?" offered Draco.

Another pause, not quite so long. "Yes."

"I will then."

"Thank you," came the shocked reply.

"It's not a problem," Draco said.

Too much rushed through Draco's mind. Remus had been going through those terrible metamorphic changes all these years, no wonder he had been losing control. And nobody thought to ask him if he could make it—Potion Master Snape's prize student. But then again, he hadn't offered. This man before him had lost so much and Draco had always sneered with disgust at him… treated him as less than a wizard… less than human.

He'd lost perhaps even more than Draco, who never had anyone to love except for his beautiful mother, twisted with desire for power. But on a few occasions he had seen Nymphadora Tonks with the mangy man and they were happy. But his cousin was gone….

He remembered it too well, had watched it all.

McNair drove an Iron Spike hex at his cousin, as she dodged another hex thrown at her by a wizard he only vaguely remembered. "Ferrous Impolentae," the older man screamed as the spiked daggers flew from his wand towards the already battered woman. She had no time to strengthen her shield before the first spike drove itself into her thigh, after that there was little she could do as the iron rained down.

Draco had stood on a bald hill only highlighted by a few nude trees. He and Severus poised above the fighting, waiting, watching the brutal clash of wizards as person after person he knew or recognized fell in the onslaught, making him painfully aware of his choices. The rain pummeled them on that cold, autumn day. Draco had constantly wiped the drops out of his eyes as he continued to watch the final battle of the greatest war of this era, Severus Snape by his side, waiting for the right moment.

It wasn't long before Remus appeared by Tonks' side, Draco remembered, cradling her broken body, emptying wounds coating the battlefield in blood. The phantom spikes had long since disappeared. Draco couldn't help but mourn her loss. She was an amazing woman and a witch with rare talents until the day her body drained dry.

He remembered looking down upon that empire of broken possibilities.

But, he had to wait. It was not his time to act, he knew that, but even then it hadn't made it any easier.

Soft words from behind him pulled him out of his reverie. "I didn't know you could brew it." It was Harry. Harry had heard the entire thing and Draco squirmed under that knowledge.

Draco turned to look at the tousled looking man, sleep lines still imbedded in his face. His eyes were wide. He looked so vulnerable. "Severus taught me how to brew all of his patented potions." Draco wanted to explain. He hadn't kept this knowledge to cause Remus pain… he just didn't know. And the fact that he actually cared did not go unnoticed. "He left everything of value to me including his research, library, dark arts collection and home. Though the home left much to be desired," he added.

Nobody said anything for quite some time.

"Well," Harry said, breaking the lull, "did you have time to think about everything from last night?"

"Before you start," interrupted Remus, "let me tell you about my night, and then you two can fill me in on yours."

"This is going to take a while. I'll make some tea." Draco stood, turning to the cupboard that held the tea. Another day with Potter. Perhaps it would be a good day. Perhaps there were new possibilities he hadn't even considered.