When The Roof Caves In

She awoke disoriented, groggy, dizzy. Her head rested on something...something not soft enough to be a pillow or a cushion. She could feel motion all around her. But where was she? The last thing she could remember, she was in the club. She had paced around the dressing-room, more nervous than she ever had a right to be, considering she never got stage-fright. It was probably adrenaline, she decided at the time, adrenaline from the argument she'd been in right before her call to the stage. Someone had appeared in the doorway - she'd assumed that it had been Bobby, come to tell her it was time for her number. She'd turned to look at him, over her shoulder, and then...and then nothing, that was the last thing she could remember. So. Maybe he'd been right - perish the thought. Maybe she'd been carried off by Death Eaters. There was only one way to find out, and so she cautiously opened her eyes.

"You!" she whispered, sounding almost indignant, looking all around her. So she had been correct in a few of her thoughts - she was in motion, on a moving train, to be exact; her head rested in someone's lap. At least he wasn't a Death Eater, that was a small consolation. A very small consolation, indeed.

"Me." He said calmly, smiling down at her. "Good morning, Miss Clearwater. You know, in most places, people would question a man carrying an unconscious young woman aboard a train. But not in your Berlin...no one even batted an eye."

Penelope sighed, looking up into the man's golden-brown eyes. "You've kidnapped me," she told him, trying to sound angry, but lacking the energy.

"You left me no choice," the man replied, in his normal even tones.

"You're treating me like a child!" she returned, sounding a little angrier than she'd been. "Like a little girl who wouldn't listen when her parents told her it was time to go to bed."

"That's how you were acting. You left me no choice," he said again, smiling at her. "I couldn't let you throw your life away."

"It's my life to do with as I please." Penelope sighed, closing her eyes again. The argument felt so familiar - probably because the end of it was similar to the one she'd had with her parents a little over a year ago, after her graduation from Hogwarts. Her parent's didn't understand. No one understood why a young talented witch would ever want to become a mere mundane nightclub performer. They told her she was crazy, they wondered aloud why a nice girl with a thousand possibilities open to her would want to go to Berlin, to waste her life like that.

They didn't understand because they'd never been to Wizarding Berlin. There was nothing like it, absolutely nothing in the world like it. It was beautiful, it was maddening, it was wonderful. Everything seemed a little bit more, more intense, more bright, more strong, more meaningful. It was another world, full of glitter and decadence; people lived in the present moment only, they cared nothing for the past nor the future. No-one ever spoke of war or the Death Eaters or even feigned to pronounce the liquid syllables of Voldemort's name. There were no worries, there was no pain - or if there were, they were only ghosts, half-remembered, unreal. Nothing was real but the lights and the sequins and the glitter, the music. Berlin wizards were different than the English wizards, they were bohemian, they lived on the edge of life, they were hedonistic and decadent and wild. Wizarding Berlin was a throwback to the same city in an earlier time - Berlin between the first and second World Wars, with its cabarets, its songs, its glitter; yet the same ugly truths hid underneath the gilding, the same irrevocable destiny awaited in the future. The people turned the same blind eyes to all of it.

And Penelope loved it. In England, she'd been the daughter of daughters of ancient aristocrats. She'd had most everything handed to her on a silver platter. And in Berlin...in Berlin, Penelope was blissfully poor. For the first time in her life, she made her own fortune, lived or died by her own decisions. Although she spoke no German, she got by in French and in English. Penelope loved Berlin. It was the same Berlin that she dreamed of from reading stories set amongst the muggles in an earlier time. This was the life she'd always wanted - she was finally an international woman of mystery. Or so she thought.

The place she'd found was only a second-rate nightclub - but that was to be expected, given that she was only a second-rate performer. But to her, it was heaven. She took the stage and sang songs, gentle songs, heartbreaking songs about lost loves and lost innocence. The people were kind to her there. And in Wizarding Berlin it was possible to forget all about the war, to ignore accounts from England that told of the Dark Mark appearing at the Quidditch World Cup games. In Wizarding Berlin, it was possible to be carefree - and so Penelope was carefree.

Of course, when she met Re, all of that changed.

In retrospect, it seemed quite foolish that she never recognized him. But to her credit, he was in disguise. And it was a very good disguise, given that he was in hiding from the entire Wizarding world. He was just another vaguely handsome middle-aged man come to the club. But unlike the others, he was English - and even more unlike the others, he'd failed to fall under the spell of Wizarding Berlin.

When he first met Penelope, it seemed as though he recognized her. This should have been a clue, but Penelope didn't notice. She'd finished her number, mingled with the audience, noticed a man staring at her. She approached him, and he'd looked at her and said "Your hair!"

It was an odd comment, but Penelope didn't think of that, just said "Pardon?"

"You're used to having it longer." He told her, and Penelope smiled.

"Is it that obvious?" She'd asked, reaching up as she often did to feel the naked back of her neck. Cutting her hair short had been an impulse, and one that she had already started to regret. "You're English." She'd told him, as if he didn't know, and that was how their acquaintance started.

It only took her a month to figure out that he was a werewolf. She'd known that her time was coming and she'd warned him in advance, told him that she wouldn't be performing for the next few days. Penelope always spent one day of every twenty-eight like clockwork in bed, in pain, just like all of the other women in her family. He'd laughed at the announcement, thanked her for it but said that it was hardly necessary. The others told her that he was gone from the club for the same amount of time she was, and Penelope found that suspicious. The next day she swore she heard howling on the wind in the middle of the night. That was all it took to put the facts together, just as she had the last time she'd discovered someone was a werewolf. They had the same golden-brown amber flecked eyes, wolf eyes. Re's secret didn't phase Penelope. Not much did phase Penelope. It wasn't as though he was the only werewolf in Wizarding Berlin. The potion that made them harmless was common enough, almost every chemist sold it.

She felt safe enough in his company. He watched over her like a cautious older brother, fending off the people who actually were dangerous, those who might have made her indecent drunken advances. Penelope was, of course, oblivious to this. They spent almost a year as friends - and then Re started getting owls. Tons of owls arrived for him, sometimes even to the club. They were owls that looked tired, as if they had been a long time coming, from far off places. After Re started getting the owls, he began his campaign to get Penelope to leave Berlin. No one else dared to speak of the war, yet Re dared even to say Voldemort's name without employing any of the silly euphemisms even the strongest wizards used. Night after night he gave Penelope little warnings, trying desperately to change her mind. It didn't work. Penelope loved Berlin, Berlin hid from the war, in her mind Berlin like no place else on earth would be safe.

He finally cornered her in her dressing-room, just before the show. "Penelope...Berlin is not safe. I'm leaving in the morning, and I want you to come with me." He spoke then in calmer tones than she'd ever heard him use. His disguise had slipped a bit, the glamour was a bit weakened - and it was then that she recognized him for who he was. It made a lot of sense in retrospect, really; how many werewolves could there be in hiding from the entire Wizarding world?

They argued, Remus Lupin telling Penelope that she was in danger, urging her to leave Berlin with him in the morning. She flatly refused in the end and made him leave her dressing-room, told him that she never wanted to see him again as long as she lived, returned to pacing around the room and wondering why in the world she was so nervous for her performance that night. It was, of course, Remus Lupin who had appeared in the doorway with his wand and cast the spell that put Penelope to sleep. He caught her gently before she fell to the floor and carried her right to the train station, where she awoke, hours later.

Penelope opened her eyes and stared up at Lupin. "Are you taking me to England?" she asked, sitting up and turning around to sit properly in the seat next to the middle-aged werewolf.

"No. To France." Lupin smiled gently at Penelope. "You'll be safer there. Besides, they're not letting wizards into England - it's not safe."

"Are you coming to France with me, then?" She asked, a little confused. If he was still in hiding, still on the run - then what were all the letters for? And why did he leave Berlin so quickly?

"Yes, and no. I'm not staying. I've special permission to return to England on Albus Dumbledore's orders." He sighed, frowning. "I...had no wish to be caught up in the middle of this war, Penelope. They had given me another job to do. A safe job, an out of the way job...but it was nonetheless important."

Penelope raised one eyebrow. "Out of the way? In...in France, say?"

"Yes. In France." About to explain farther, he paused and looked down at his watch, and flinched. He had thought he'd felt the train slowing to a stop. "This is Angers - where you get off."

"Angers?" she echoed, confused. Everything was happening so suddenly; she was still lightheaded from whatever spell had knocked her unconscious in the first place. She'd been kidnapped and taken from Berlin and now was about to be abandoned somewhere in France?

"Angers." Lupin smiled. "A small city in Western France, in the Loire valley. It's beautiful country. You're not staying here - you're moving on. There'll be a man waiting for me, a driver. Look for him, he'll be carrying a sign that says 'Lupin-Brissac'." He stood up and reached under his seat for a small suitcase that he handed Penelope. "It's not much...just a few things that you might need." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand, handing it to her. "I'm afraid I left yours behind. Mine should obey you. And here," he took off a heavy gold signet ring and reached for her unresisting hand, slipping the ring on her index finger, "you'll need this. It's identification, of course."

"Of course." Penelope echoed, still in shock.

Lupin smiled at her again and pulled her into an embrace. "This is a much more productive way to waste your life." He whispered in his ear. "Just as dangerous - but much more rewarding." And then he kissed her, so swiftly she might have imagined it, and pushed her towards the door.

In three steps she was off the train, wandering dimly through the train station, a suitcase in one hand, the other hand curled around the wand Lupin had given her. It was not her old wand, yet it felt somehow familiar. Lupin...Remus Lupin...had been her friend, had protected her even if she didn't want his protection at the time. He'd possibly saved her life. And in that moment, Penelope knew that Lupin did not expect to survive whatever errand it was he'd been called to England to complete.

Her eyes blurred with sudden tears, but she blinked them furiously away. Crying wouldn't do her any good, she told herself firmly. She wandered through the crowds of people until she found a small, neat man with a pointed beard and curly hair holding a glossy sign-board that read "Lupin-Brissac". She crossed to him with a small smile on her face and began to explain that she'd been sent in Monsieur Lupin's place - but the man interrupted her halting speech and told her that he understood. He placed a gloved hand underneath one of her elbows and led her to a black Mercedes, opened the passenger door for her and bowed before circling the car and taking the driver's seat.

They drove off in silence, out of the city full of delicate buildings with blue slate roofs, following the curves of the river. What seemed varyingly like an instant and an eternity later, they arrived at their destination, the Château Brissac. After a conversation in halting French with a dapper man in a red scarf, Penelope learned something else about her friend Monsieur Lupin - that he was the cousin of the Duc de Brissac and a member of the ancient French aristocracy.

And so Penelope took over the job that Remus Lupin had promised to do for the war effort. During the day she led muggle tours of the Château Brissac - and at night she led wizard refugees through secret passages to secret rooms, passed on confidential information, helped them to survive.

Sometimes Penelope dreamed of werewolves, thought she heard a familiar howling in the distance. But she awoke to find only seagulls circling outside her window.