February 20, 1979

Remus hated to admit that, without realizing it, he had grown to enjoy the werewolf meetings. The pains of the impending full moon were intensifying, but it was the first time that he was not going through them alone. He had never gotten to experience complaining about his monthly problems to an audience of friends who understood and truly empathized with what he was going through. And the more he got to know these new friends, the more he felt like a spy in their midst.

He had attempted to speak to the harder zealots who had cheered at Greyback's speech on the first day, but it had been hard. They spoke with such spiritual conviction that Remus had had a hard time steering the conversation in any other direction, and it made him sick to his stomach to hear them talk so reverently about Greyback. He was not that good an actor.

So he had pivoted, trying instead to ingratiate himself amongst the people he actually got along with. Liam would flit in and out of different circles, and Remus could only catch him so often, but he had managed to talk to enough people to find out that a lot of the werewolves in attendance were recent bites, only infected in their teen years or later. Liam had found them much as he had found Remus: aimless, unable to find a job, and despondent. Remus began to suspect Liam spent the majority of his time haunting pubs and unemployment offices. He also wondered whether it had been coincidence that Liam had been in the Wyvern when he'd spotted him on Valentine's Day.

The facts had not solidified much more since Remus had first spoken to him, but he had gotten a few more details. They would take a portkey from the werewolf meeting in the early evening, before sunset, that would take them to the premises they had secured. There would be room to run free, but the way Liam explained it made Remus feel like there was some sort of group activity planned once they had transformed. Liam had been very unrelenting when it came to location details, which led Remus to think they would either be trespassing, or on private property.

Without a clear lead to pursue, Remus had let himself relax a little into a more natural rhythm with the other werewolves, as though his intentions were purely social. He even forgot once or twice, when a joke had made him laugh, or someone reciprocated his feeling, that he was there for any other reason.

But two days before the full moon, this illusion was fully shattered, when Liam tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to find himself face to face with Fenrir Greyback.

"Remus! I wanted to make sure you had a chance to meet our guest of honor," he said lightly. Remus's eyes widened, but Greyback smiled widely, as though used to this response.

"Fenrir Greyback," he said, extending a big, long-nailed hand. Remus tried not to look too closely at the stains under his nails.

"Remus...Lupin," he said after a moment, realizing his mistake. Liam knew his real name, there was no hiding, and Greyback's widening eyes confirmed what he feared.

"We've met before," Greyback said, his grin widening. It took everything Remus had not to vomit.

"You have?" asked Liam, awed.

"He...he and my father knew each other," said Remus slowly. Greyback laughed softly.

"Good pals, we were," he said. "Wilder, would you mind grabbing me a pint?"

"Oh, sure!" said Liam, scurrying into the crowd, and leaving Remus and Greyback alone.

"I suppose you'll want to thank me," said Greyback, and Remus felt his mind go blank.

"Thank you?" he said.

"For the gift," said Greyback. Remus felt the urge to vomit surge over him, and gripped his glass even harder to fight it.

"I...there aren't enough words," he said. "It's been truly...life-defining."

"I'd give anything to have your experience," said Greyback, and Remus felt his revulsion ebb into pure confusion. "I was bitten at sixteen," he continued, "and I wasted my best years when I should have been enjoying the new life I'd been given. I bit you at what...seven? Eight?"

"Five," said Remus hoarsely.

"Five," said Greyback, whistling. "A full life, indeed. Tell me..." He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "What's the sweetest taste you've found so far?"

"Sweetest…" repeated Remus, completely nonplussed.

"Personally, I think it's the young ones," said Greyback in a low voice. "You'd think it would be babies, but they're too soft. Thirteen, fourteen, that's when they really start to mature. A little older and they'll even give you a bit of a chase."

Remus had lost all feeling, and thankfully it seemed like Greyback had forgotten that he had asked him a question, and was lost in his own reverie.

"It'll be hard, but I think I'll give it a year, maybe two. This potion is an abomination, but if we want our numbers to grow, it's a necessary sacrifice. And who knows, maybe I'll slip in a light snack here and there." He jabbed Remus in the ribs playfully. Remus forced himself to laugh, his mouth bone dry.

"What...you think you'll keep taking the potion?" he asked. "I mean...isn't it hard to make…"

"It takes weeks to brew," said Greyback, his face sinking into a look of annoyance that scared Remus less than the smile. "Completely buggered with details. Clockwise this, counterclockwise that, the fire has to be just so, and the light such else...I had the bitch try to teach Gregor, but he can't pay attention for shit." He sighed. "We'll just have to give her an incentive to keep brewing it."

"Where are we running, again?" asked Remus, his heart beating quickly. Greyback opened his mouth to answer, but at that moment Liam returned with the beer, and his attention diverted.

"Where what?" asked Liam.

"I was just asking where we'd be running," said Remus as Greyback downed the pint, the golden liquid frothing in waves as it disappeared steadily from the glass.

"You ask that every day," laughed Liam. "So many questions, Remus. You have to leave life some of its surprises, or it'll lose the fun."

"Right," said Remus, watching Greyback as he lowered the glass. But Greyback's eyes had been caught across the room, and he vanished into the crowd without another word. Liam trailed after him, leaving Remus alone again, save for the sickly feeling in his hand where he had shaken Greyback's, and his heartbeat thundering in his ears.


February 21, 1979

The day before the full moon, an unfamiliar owl arrived at the Potters' window, a thick package secured to its feet. James untied it with a frown on his face, closing the window once the owl had taken off once more.

It was the evening, and Remus had departed for the werewolf meeting already. The house was silent as every occupant sunk deeper and deeper into their own research. Lily was currently in James's old bedroom, knee deep in research on werewolf packs and their stomping grounds, in case anything was available in their histories, but there was not a lot of literature. Sirius had not slept in days, investigating every public park and forest within the Disapparation radius as a dog, but had come up empty handed. Even if the kidnappers had not returned to the area, he was certain he would have caught a scent. Remus had returned from the werewolf meetings later and later, staying awake just long enough to write his notes from the evening on the table before heading up to the guest room to pass out. James had set himself up in the living room, cross-referencing Remus's reports with anything else he could find.

The table was covered in maps, a list of notes from Remus's intelligence lying on top of them. It had notes scrawled in the margins, smudged with ink, reading things like 'premises? Room to run? At least 50 acres- Outside of London' and 'Disapparation radius- 200km.'

James glanced at the name on the package before yelling, "Sirius?"

When there was no answer, James stood back up and climbed the stairs to Sirius's room. He knocked.

"Sirius?" he called again.

"What?" came a muffled grunt. James let himself in, finding Sirius not in the disheveled bed, but propping himself up at the corner desk, where he had been studying a map of Wales. When Sirius turned to look at him, James saw that the ink had left faint trails across his face.

"This just came by owl for you," said James, lifting the files. Sirius looked confused a moment, and then snatched the parcel from James's hand, tearing it open.

Inside were three files, topped with a short note on a scrap of parchment that read, 'I told them I was writing a book about werewolves, so you owe me a book about werewolves if they ask to read it. Send these back once you've finished. – G'

"Excellent! Oh bless you, you gorgeous gingersnap." Sirius kissed the top file, then flung it open over the Wales research.

"What exactly are these?" asked James. Sirius handed him an unopened file.

"Make yourself useful. These are files from the werewolf registry."

"How did you get these?"

"Nevermind how I got them, just start reading," said Sirius. James tossed the sheets aside for a smooth bit of mattress to sit on and began to read.

James had Liam Wilder's file. A quick read of the bio told him Liam had been bitten as a child and homeschooled, as Remus had mentioned, but it also included several arrests. Remus had not mentioned those.

"This Liam guy's been to Azkaban," said James. "For transforming in a Muggle neighborhood." He flipped the page. "Three times."

"Are you forreal?" asked Sirius.

"I can't tell if it was on purpose," said James, flipping the page.

"I'm sure he transformed in a Muggle neighborhood three times on accident," said Sirius dryly. James glanced at him briefly.

"He's never worked anywhere for more than a month at a time," he said after another minute of reading.

"Greyback's file's a shitshow. They have almost no information on him except victims, but even those are guesses," said Sirius. "There are…" he sank into silence for a moment, then cleared his throat. "There are a few cases of him biting people while in...human form…"

James looked at him sharply.

"Does that do anything?" he asked.

"I don't know," said Sirius.

James tried to think of something reassuring to say, but thought better of it, and let them sink back into silence. Looking at the other file from the portfolio, he saw that it was labeled 'Remus Lupin.' He flipped it open.

Inside was a picture of Remus that must have been taken before he went to Hogwarts. He was missing two front teeth, and smiling, very thin and standing next to his father, who had the same smile but with more teeth. Another picture was logged on a second page, Remus post graduation. He looked tired, but the ghost of the smile he'd had as a 10 year old boy was still visible, just barely. Number notation on the bottom of the photo made James think it was taken by the registry itself.

"Where did you say you got these, again?" he asked, flipping the page. The next page was a writeup of Greyback's escape from the Ministry following an escape from the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, where he had been clocked by Lyall Lupin as a werewolf, and officially entered into the registry.

"Mansfield," said Sirius.

"You found him?" asked James, surprised.

"Yeah, he and Mrs. Mansfield are playing Muggle 'house' in East Ham."

"And you…what? Asked him nicely to break into the Ministry for you?"

"I told him I needed the files," said Sirius. "He called in a favor." James made a face.

"And he didn't ask what you needed them for? He just got the Ministry files for you, no questions asked?"

"Pretty much," said Sirius.

"Sirius…"

"Holy shit." Sirius swiveled around on his chair, holding the file in his hands. "Greyback worked a quarry job once for Mathis Gage," he said.

"I don't know who that is," said James.

"That's because your mum didn't plaster your family tree across the wall," said Sirius, looking at him. "Gage is a branch of a pureblood tree that died out with Mathis. His estate was passed on through his mother's side. Maiden name Lestrange."

James and Sirius looked at each other.

"Your cousin Bellatrix...you went to that wedding, didn't you?" asked James.

"Nearly a hundred acres," said Sirius, "and a big, gross mansion."


Mariah was running out of ideas.

Since she had been plucked off the street outside of Mulpepper's and Disapparated to a dark empty stable in the middle of the woods, she had counted down the days until the full moon, knowing that was all the time she had left in the world before a very probable death.

On her first night she had managed to dodge the two hulking werewolves who guarded her, but was stopped by a 10-foot, smooth, stone wall that encircled the woods. They had caught her easily, and the next morning Greyback had come.

Mariah shuddered as she counted the seconds on the clock that Gregor, one of her captors, had propped against the wall of the stable stall so she could time her potion stirring. Her first escape attempt had amused Greyback, and he'd asked her to try again, counting loudly to sixty as though playing a game of hide-and-seek. Mariah had run south, where the grounds extended out further and further, but Greyback had caught up to her easily. Even as a man he was deadly fast. He had pounced on her, shoving her to the ground, his entire weight pinning her down, and smelled her deeply.

Every time Greyback had returned since that day, he had made her run just to show her how easily he could catch her. Mariah shook her head, trying to forget his wandering hands, and his slinking words. She wasn't sure whether he wanted to fuck her or eat her, but she was deeply averse to both.

"Just you wait," Greyback had said with a sickening grin as Ulysses, the other werewolf guard, charmed the chains in the stable to bind her for the night. "I'm even faster in the moonlight."

Although she was exhausted, Mariah had barely slept since she'd been taken. She lay shackled in the stable, shivering in the February cold with her back to the wall and her eyes on the door, straining her ears to hear anything beyond the ticking clock. Was Greyback still there? Were Ulysses and Gregor on watch? She had no idea how fast Ulysses and Gregor might be, but she knew their attention spans were shorter by a mile. She could try to break free and make a run for it, but if any of them were standing watch they would easily catch her, and Greyback would come to play with her.

She had thought about poisoning the Wolfsbane potion, but Greyback had stopped her short, doggedly watching her every step as she brewed and stirred, counting the seconds on the clock out loud so she timed everything exactly, smelling every ingredient himself to verify their identities.

She had been given a rough blanket to keep from freezing to death, but her joints ached from her bindings, and her legs smarted from running. A week ago she had attempted to climb a tree, and Greyback had dragged her from the branches, scraping the length of her leg against the rough bark. He had tasted her blood with salacious glee.

The potion was finished, and for the past week Mariah had been kept shut in the stable day and night, with only the clock to watch.

She had begun to hear voices elsewhere in the stable. Every evening, it seemed, Greyback or one of the other werewolves would shove a new victim begging and pleading into the stalls, locking them in. Mariah could hear them crying in the night. She thought about calling out to them, but Greyback could hear even the smallest sound. In her second week, she had successfully hidden in a pond for nearly ten minutes, but he had heard her when she came up for air.

That had been the day before she'd glimpsed the mansion.

Having exhausted so many possible strategies, Mariah had tried running in a circle, and climbing to the roof of the stable. It had been Gregor and Ulysses who realized where she was, catching her scent after Greyback had already run after her on the hunt, but from her vantage point in the time she'd managed to stay hidden, Mariah had seen the domed peaks of a huge elegant mansion in the distance above the treetops. She had tried running towards it the next day, but Greyback had caught her too quickly. Whatever he had planned the night of the full moon, Mariah had only one direction to turn to if he gave her the option to run.

The sound of footsteps made her blood freeze, but it was Ulysses who entered.

"Come on, love, time for walkies," he said, unchaining her. She staggered to her feet, her legs weak from sitting. She stumbled, and Ulysses grabbed her arm, hauling her upright. He led her outside, keeping his grip on her as they walked. Her steps gradually found their footing, but she grew suspicious as Ulysses did not let her go, leading her through the cold woods towards the wall that enclosed them.

"You helping me escape?" she asked dryly as she limped along, and Ulysses snorted.

"You wish," he said. "Boss wanted to make sure I was giving you exercise for tomorrow. He loves the chase."

Mariah felt her mouth go dry, but said nothing.

"It ain't all bad," said Ulysses after a few minutes of silence. "You'll get used to it. It's a pain for about a week before the full moon, but nothing you ain't already used to, aye?" He laughed, jerking her by the arm.

It took Mariah a minute to understand what he was saying, but when she did it hit her with the force of the Knight Bus coming to an immediate stop. She felt like such an idiot. All this time she had been brewing the potion, she hadn't thought why Greyback of all people would want to suppress his lycanthropic nature. She had seen him drink it. He didn't mean to kill this time, he meant to infect.

"This isn't a hunt…" she said vacantly, thinking of the others in the stable.

"Well," said Ulysses, and Mariah heard a note of uncertainty in his voice, "I can't say for sure you won't be ripped apart, but if all goes to plan all you have to worry about is a bite...maybe two," he added doubtfully.

"Ulysses," said Mariah, turning to him. He looked surprised at the direct address. She had served him nothing but glares since her capture. "You can't think this is a good idea. I mean, you know what it's like to be a werewolf. Do you really want to infect others against their will?"

"There ain't nothing wrong with being one of us," said Ulysses, frowning. He tightened his grip on her arm as he led her back to the stable.

"I'm not saying there is," said Mariah hurriedly. "My friend's a werewolf. I'm just saying, wouldn't you rather have had the choice to decide for yourself?"

Ulysses didn't look at her, but his grip softened.

"Please," said Mariah, throwing caution to the wind. "Please, let me go. Let the others go. You don't have to do this."

His grip tightened harder, his fingers digging painfully into her skin as he dragged her closer.

"Shut up or I'll break your arm," he hissed, and she fell silent.

As they turned at the wall and headed back to the stable, Mariah felt the familiar creeping claws of despair sinking into her back. So far she had held out hope of finding an escape, but as every chase had proved futile, her exhausted brain grasped at straws through the long, dark hours of the early morning. There was no escape, that's what Greyback had been teaching her by making her run.

Were her friends even looking for her?

Would they even notice she was gone before the full moon?

Lily wouldn't notice she was gone. They had just seen each other the previous month. There was no hope there. The thought made her sad, to think that the first person she looked to for help would be the last one to notice. Lily wouldn't be coming to save her.

It had hit her after a week in captivity that Sirius would think she had stood him up, and never contact her again. Sirius wouldn't be coming to save her.

And Remus fully expected her never to speak to him again. Remus wouldn't be coming to save her.

The thought of Remus sent a pang through her heart. He would think she'd cut all ties with him because of what he'd told her. He would transform this full moon into a full werewolf, thinking the only friend who could've eased his pain had rejected him.

She wondered what he would say if they met again once she'd been infected. She felt some cold comfort in the idea that she wouldn't be alone. Unbidden, the image of Sirius crossed her mind and before she could stop herself she imagined him finding out. Another pang wrenched her heart.

As the stable came into view through the dim twilight, Mariah considered her new, twisted future. Once she had been bitten, what then? They wouldn't let her go. Was she going to be kept in this stable forever, brewing the potion month after month just to keep her sanity at the full moon? There was no escape, and yet her tired brain continued to sputter like an old film reel and project small, perilously spliced clips across her mind's eye: what if she wrenched free of Ulysses and ran now, only to be caught at the banks of the pond – what if she managed to knock him out with a nearby rock, only for Gregor to smell the blood and catch her as she clawed at the high walls that enclosed them – what if she managed to reach the house – what if – what if – what if –

Something caught her eye against the dark wood of the stable, and she glanced to her left only to see a glimpse of a body lying on the floor of one of the stalls, just visible through the bars of the window. The next stall had two, shackled in the corners. Mariah counted roughly, reaching 8 before making eye contact with a prisoner in the stall next to her own. Something about him was familiar, but before she could reflect, Ulysses shoved her unceremoniously into her own stall, drawing his wand and charming the shackles back into a solid ring around her ankle.

"Get some rest. Greyback wants you lively tomorrow," he said, turning and walking away.

Mariah listened to his receding footsteps, but her mind was racing, trying to place the face she'd just seen.

Once the footsteps were gone, she shuffled over to the wall and lifted her shackles, scratching at the soft wood of the planks with a link of metal chain. She managed to widen the gap to the width of her thumb and pressed her face to the wall, looking through.

She didn't see him at first, but as she moved her face for a better angle, she spotted him, slumped against the corner with his eyes closed. He looked fairly young, with short dark hair, and a closely cropped beard that encircled his mouth. He must not have been captive for long. Mariah ran through her mental list of St. Mungo's patients, trying to remember.

At that moment she heard the footsteps outside return and shuffled into a sleeping position, lying with her face to the door, eyes closed. The footsteps slowed, and she heard the wooden wall creak as Ulysses leaned his weight against it. After an hour, Mariah felt the exhaustion of the night pulling her down into the earth, and she let it take her. But the face of the man filled her dreams, dressed in a very familiar suit at a very familiar party.