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Lupin, expecting the blow to fall, paled when it struck not himself but Tonks. Struggling upright, he stared at her, cursing his own helplessness. A low chuckle from Claremont drew his horrified gaze away from the scene of anguish at his feet.

"Don't you think that the role of noble martyr is a bit clichéd, Lupin? Stop this little charade. I'm fully aware that your goading is a pitiful attempt to deflect attention away from the girl, so be warned then. I have no intention of physically harming you in the slightest, but push me further and all you will accomplish is the prolonging of her torment."

With a flick, he released the spell on Tonks and she huddled into a ball, curling into the side of Lupin's leg with a muffled whimper that wrung his heart almost as painfully as the spell that had been cast on her. How much could such a small body take?

"Eh, now," Lennox spoke up from his dark corner, "don't get carried away. You promised me what was left of her. I expect some fun out of all of this as well."

"Oh, there will be enough of the girl's body left for your particular brand of fun. Breaking the girl's mind won't hinder that," Claremont reassured him, watching intently as the blood completely drained from Lupin's face.

"What is it you want?" he asked hoarsely, willing himself to ignore the clench of fear in his gut as the full meaning of their exchange sank in.

"It's not what I want that matters, Lupin. The Dark Lord wants the girl dead, and I'm happy to oblige him."

"But not me."

"Why would I kill you?" Claremont slyly responded. "You're so much more useful if I allow you to live."

"You'll find me a bit of an unwilling ally," mocked Lupin, trying to hide his confusion at the other man's cryptic comment. "Feel free to try the Imperius curse on me, though I think you'll be disappointed with the results."

Ice blue eyes rolled toward the ceiling. "Yes, I'm quite aware of your mental faculties. For a man who's tied up, you seem oddly set on provoking me."

"And for a man who has prisoners at his mercy, you seem oddly willing to stand there and gloat."

Claremont's lips creased into the faintest of smiles. "Cannot the cat indulge in toying with the mouse? You forget that while I've been ordered to kill her, I don't see the need to do it quickly, and the longer it takes the more memories you get to carry with you to Azkaban."

"What are you talking about?" Lupin asked quickly. The sweat that broke out across his face and back had little to do with the stifling atmosphere in the flat.

"Not so quick that you still haven't figured out your role in all of this?" Speaking slowly, Claremont's gaze bore down into Lupin's, further driving home the terrible import of his words. "Her colleagues will discover her here tomorrow, tortured to death, her body violated; imagine their surprise when all the signs point to you. Denial will be useless. Who will believe a pathetic, poverty-stricken werewolf, given the current atmosphere in the Ministry, and especially when the proof is contained within your own wand?" He twirled the offending item in his long fingers for a moment before casually pointing it at Tonks.

"Acerbus punctum!"

Her head jerked back with a hiss as a bolt of magic hit her exposed shoulder, once, twice, three times before she cried out. A trio of closely grouped welts erupted and swelled as the sting took effect.

"The more pain she endures, the more damning it is for you. Does that answer your question, now that I've spelled it out for you in detail?"

Staring with unseeing eyes, his mind picturing all too well the outcome of such an event, Lupin could not deny the brutal truth: no one with any clout at the Ministry would accept the word of a Dark Creature. Claremont's reasons for keeping his wand intact now became clear, and he bitterly cursed himself for not recognizing such an obvious possibility. His earlier taunt now seemed no more than pissing into the wind.

Tonks stirred quietly against him, and he looked down to see her gaze fixed on his face, suffering still etched onto her delicate features but a surprising amount of determination showing through as well. She had plainly heard and understood Claremont's explanation, and the ruthless divulgence of her death sentence roused her from the pain. He watched as she clenched her jaw, heard her bite back a moan as she rolled up into a sitting position. Unexpected admiration took hold of him. She possessed unexpected depths of courage and strength, this woman in a child's form, able to confront even the possibility of torture and rape without breaking down. He was briefly reminded of Sirius.

Slowly, carefully, she maneuvered herself around to face her tormentor. "You evil son of a bitch." In any other circumstance, she might have been amused by the picture she knew she presented, as her high piping voice and waifish appearance contrasted absurdly with the defiant words. "Dumbledore knows we're here to find you. He'll never let Lupin take the fall for this, assuming you actually manage to kill me, and believe me, that's a dangerous assumption to make." Ridiculous and empty as her threat was, somehow she managed to convey a confidence in her own abilities that made the warning seem almost believable.

Coolly staring down at his tiny challenger, Claremont remained silent for a moment. He flicked a calculating gaze at Lupin and softly said, "Ah, yes, Dumbledore. Ever the wise and protective leader, I'm sure. How sad for you both to find out that your beloved mentor can make mistakes just like any other man. Or does the high and mighty Headmaster even take a personal hand in little things like assignments? Perhaps those things are left to Alastor Moody?" His keen eyes caught the tiny flicker that passed over Tonks' face and he gave her a thin-lipped smile. "Oh, now why should you be surprised at my knowing such an obvious detail? The Dark Lord is aware of many things that go on in your little Order of the Phoenix. Is Dumbledore so desperate for warm bodies that he would not realize what a prize a blood-traitor Metamorphmagus would present? Such a potential thorn in the Dark Lord's side, and yet young and inexperienced enough to be caught with relative ease, the danger extinguished along with her life.

"Either Dumbledore has ill-founded trust in your capabilities, Nymphadora, or he was foolish enough to believe you to be in no danger. Do you know, all the trouble I went through to arrange this little meeting was worth being able to witness the fear in your eyes outside, the hopelessness as you knew yourself to be irrevocably trapped. What surprised me was how quickly you resigned yourself. Really, it was as if you didn't expect your partner to come to the rescue. You jerked in my arms when I carried you in and discovered that he was here. Had you so little faith in the werewolf that it hadn't occurred to you that perhaps he was in danger, that he too had fallen into the trap?"

Lupin turned his head to look sharply at the girl sitting by his feet. His eyebrows slowly drew together into a frown as he witnessed the flush of blood along her neck and ears, the only part of her head that he could see as she stared at Claremont, who had all too apparently scored a hit. Was it true? She had thought herself to be abandoned?

Humiliation warred with a certain amount of resignation as he realized that without even exchanging a single word with the woman, her opinion of him was set; he thought he knew why.

**********************************

Try as she might, Tonks could not suppress the incriminating evidence that her body was providing to every eye in the room. What must Lupin think of her? She was every bit as guilty as Claremont had implied.

Damn that man! His mind was too fast, too slippery for her. She bit back a frustrated sigh. How were they to find a way out when he seemed to have all possible ways blocked already? If he showed some obvious weakness to exploit, she'd jump on it in a second, but so far his only weakness seemed to be a nauseating over-confidence.

Besides, even if he did make a mistake, would she and Lupin be able to react quickly enough? And now, with Claremont openly undermining Lupin's trust in her, she doubted their ability to work well as a unit.

She twisted round, intending to give him some sign of apology, unsure of why her conscience prompted her to do such a thing at such a moment as this, simply knowing that she didn't want to shove off with the last memory of her on this earth associated with hurt and disappointment. Lupin's eyes were fixed on the mattress between them; she got the distinct impression that he was refusing to look at her. She'd just moved to touch his leg when Claremont's voice rang out.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Lupin looked up, startled, to see her frozen in place, hand outstretched and staring at him in alarm. She watched as vague emotions rippled over his features - confusion, anger, disappointment - before he closed his face up like a book and turned to look over her shoulder at the figure beyond.

"Come now, Nymphadora, sympathy for the werewolf?" A sneer twisted its way across Claremont's face, disdain practically dripping from every word that fell from his lips. "Half-breeds like him require no such handling. I quite understand your natural inclination to doubt his reliability, filthy mongrel that he is."

"It's not going to work." Lupin spoke up unexpectedly, his voice barely above a hoarse whisper as he continued to stare up at the Death Eater.

Claremont raised an elegantly curved eyebrow while he regarded the weary-eyed man in front of him. "Really, Lupin, you're bringing out the full arsenal today, aren't you? Feeble witticisms, taunts and now this rather enigmatic statement; it all suggests that you actually imagine yourself to have some measure of control over your situation." Claremont openly ridiculed his captive's helplessness. "What next? Threats? Promises of terrible retribution? As long as you're going to make yourself ridiculous, you might as well go all out."

Silence filled the room as their eyes locked together. Tonks watched in fascination the battle of wills fiercely waged between the two, not even broken when Lupin spoke again, although he drew a deep breath beforehand as if to steady his composure.

"For whatever reason you feel the need to destroy everything you touch, even down to tiny details like my faith in a fellow Order member, I want you to know that it won't work." He shifted that formidable gaze to Tonks, scrutinising her face, and she found herself blushing again, though she would have been hard pressed to explain why. "I would not blame her for an inherent distrust in me, given what I am and the fact that she has no personal knowledge of my character, having only met me for the first time in this room."

If this admission startled Claremont, his impassive expression showed none of it.

Lupin continued. "I know that you're going to try and kill her. You've done well for your cursed master, fashioning a trap that we're unlikely to see the outside of until it's too late. But damned if I'll let you make her believe that she's alone as she dies, that I've given up on her. I know as little of her as she knows of me, but my loyalty and respect aren't easily tossed aside, and she's earned those already simply through her own allegiance to Dumbledore."

Tonks stared at him, understanding dawning as these soft-spoken words flowed over her. Claremont wasn't trying to hurt Lupin, not directly anyway - those earlier poisonous remarks were all aimed at her, barbs meant to cut her, weaken her defenses. Her face hardened. That bastard would find out in short order just how hard it was to break her.

In the meantime, she had to try and remove the wedge that Claremont had so deftly shoved between Lupin and herself. She tried to lean forward, wanting to give him a sign of reassurance, and abruptly came up short against the invisible bonds of the spell.

Damn it, how the hell did I forget about the body bind? Augh! That maniac will NOT have the satisfaction of killing me. There has got to be a way out of this thing.

On a sudden impulse, she slowly began to shrink herself. Maybe she could gain a tiny bit of movement within the spell; after a few moments, she tried to wiggle her fingers. Nothing. Desperation overcame disappointment, and she forced her mind to dredge up whatever it could on the Petrificus spell.

Common teaching held it to be inescapable from the inside without a wand, but she had proven in the past that for a Metamorph, the usual rules didn't necessarily apply. Well, what if she tried the opposite tack?

With excruciating slowness she began to gradually swell her proportions, keeping one eye on Lupin to see if he marked the changes. They couldn't be noticeable or she'd get caught, but perhaps just a bit of growth would be enough to push the bounds of the spell. She kept it up until she thought her lungs would burst from the pressure.

Alright, that's just going to kill me. Scrap that idea.

What if she just tried one limb? The arm that wasn't outstretched toward Remus was conveniently hidden from the Death Eaters' view by the rest of her body - safer to try that first. She focused her power and tried again.

**********************************

Lupin drew another deep breath after his short speech, wondering why he was making such an effort to emotionally shield the person who had so easily dismissed him as untrustworthy. It was probably a waste of time, but he had meant what he said. Even if she fully believed him to be the unreliable half-breed that Claremont claimed, still he would do his best to take some of the burden from her. He owed that much to Sirius and Dumbledore, and he even found it possible to absolve her of her misconceptions regarding himself. After all, she was still so young; experience would teach her the danger of buying into stereotypes.

He lost himself in thought, unaware that he was being closely observed. Claremont bore the look of an avid collector who had just come across a rare specimen of insect, his eyes fixed on his prey in fascination.

"I admit myself baffled, Lupin. You have every reason to keep these noble tendencies to yourself. You're not doing her any favours by testing my patience, and it is foolish to hope that you can bolster her will enough to withstand me. You know what I am capable of, and all the Auror training in the world will do her no good. In the end, I will break her, and you will be forced to witness every second.
So why these futile speeches? Can you possibly be trying to win her more time? It won't help - fear is even now working against the both of you. Look at her. I don't even need to see her face to know that the anticipation of pain is wearing her down." Claremont stared at the sweat slowly trickling down the back Tonk's neck, and a frightening hunger burned deep within his eyes.

Lupin felt his stomach clench in revulsion. His eyes were drawn back to the pain-wracked face of the girl staring at him with such pleading intensity, but looking at her was a mistake. He regretted the action immediately, unable to stop his memory when it conjured up pictures of Claremont's past victims. During the first war, while the man had not been among the more prolific of Voldemort's inner circle of killers, he was easily as sadistic as he was clever, and the evidence left at the sites of his murders left no doubt that his chosen victims could expect to die in terrible agony.

Ever-increasing waves of nausea rolled over Lupin, carrying with them a generous measure of guilt; she would have received a more merciful ending if he had not been there, if he was not what he was. He gritted his teeth against the sudden urge to retch, his impotence mocking him as he lay bound on the mattress beside her. Fighting down the slow roil in his gut, a tiny twinkle of light beside him pulled his attention from the macabre images that filled his head.

Focusing more carefully on her pale and bloodied face, he saw a tear slowly tracing a path of white through the grime that coated one cheek. It struck him with a sudden force that something was out of place - there was no reason for the amount of suffering he could read in her drowned-violet eyes at this moment. The only spell currently on her was a body-bind; paralyzation shouldn't hurt, certainly not enough to bring tears. Had Claremont done something else that would only now be manifesting itself? What was happening to her?

Studying her body as minutely as he could without drawing the Death Eaters' attention, he looked her over, finally taking in the arm that lay at such an odd angle in her lap. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to react to the sight which met his disbelieving eyes.

Her fingers were moving.