Fathers and Sons

Fathers and Sons

Chapter 6: Strange Bedfellows

Just as members of a wolf pack are considered their family, so is the entirety considered an extended network of familial connection. Like normal families, some are closer than others; many have their arguments and their problems. But also they have their close ties to one another and for good or for ill, keep watch on one another. Owen Curenton, Pack: The Sociology of the Werewolf Pack, 1^st edition, 1976.

October 1977

Alecto Carrow likely wouldn't be described as generous on her best day, but Fenrir Greyback's ragged pack hit upon a rare soft spot in her heart. The pack was hesitant to accept her, no matter how curious, helpful or kind she tried to be, but when she withdrew piles of Galleons from Gringotts to spend on amenities for them, they grudgingly began to tolerate her. They were still wary, but Alecto understood. If Barty Crouch invited her to dinner, she would suspect him as a predator as well. A predator was a predator, even if they seemed passive. In time, though, she knew they would figure it out.

"Bedsheets," Alecto announced, with the sort of merriment reserved for the self-satisfied benefactor. She kicked the door closed behind her, her arms full of bags. "And a few duvets," she conceded to a werewolf who curiously wandered up. She ducked her head into one of the bags. "And some food -- have you ever been to Honeydukes?"

Fenrir was talented at showing up wherever action was brewing, arriving almost as quickly as by Apparation. Now he stood at the top of the stairs and descended towards Alecto with a look that was past his usual stern. "What, no wizards' robes?" he asked, watching her set down the bags.

"You wouldn't wear them," she pointed out. She reached into one of the bags to pull out a folded duvet. "Bloody freezing here, I'm surprised no one's died of cold yet -- " She handed it to Fenrir and continued looking through her bags. "There are about four or five of those, if you like I'll get more...."

Fenrir threw the duvet to the ground. "We never asked you to change how we live," he shouted. "We never asked you to stay."

Alecto lifted her head from the bag and decided against offering the werewolves in the vicinity a pack of Drooble's. She spoke mildly and stayed expressionless. "No, but you wanted the Ministry to leave you alone, and haven't they?"

He seized the bag in front of her with a disgusted laugh, and flung the door wide open. With equal force he tossed the various wizarding foods out on the lawn, then turned to the witch, forcing the wolf back though it raged at him. "I'd rather have your brother here, he would know better," he snapped.

She simply looked up at him with blank innocence as she slipped off her cloak. "You know, you're not real wolves, you only get a fur coat once a month. You'll get sick if you don't cover up, Fenrir, love."

Fenrir seized her by the shoulders and threw her into the wall, scattering the werewolves who were gathered to observe yet another of countless clashes between the two. Both the wolf and Fenrir were particularly pleased at the way she winced and rubbed at her head before standing against him, wand raised. "My house, my rules, my Pack. Your Lord may rule us, but he doesn't rule here." Satisfied at what he knew had to be fear in her eyes, he stalked away, kicking the duvet for good measure.

The evening meal was scarce, and Fenrir early on refused to eat any wizarding food, so they were forced to fish and scavenge. The result was barely enough to feed the whole Pack, and it seemed that some just weren't fed.

One of Fenrir's personal favourites among the werewolves was beginning to enjoy Alecto's presence, if not company. She capitalized on this boy, Wesley, as a source of information (if not companion). He was generally too nervous and strange to be of much use for anything but babysitting or, contrarily, a fight, as the other werewolves told rumours of his ripping half of an ear off of a werewolf from another pack who offended him. Alecto, for her part, was very glad that this boy liked her.

Alecto pointed at the huddled group of werewolves on the outside of the circle around the firepit. "So, Wesley, why don't you feed everyone the same?"

Wesley chewed and swallowed his fish cautiously, twiddling the bones between his fingers. "Erm, they're bastards. Unnamed," he elaborated.

The fish was stringy. Alecto pulled a face, then gestured for Wesley to continue. "Go on, they don't teach this at Hogwarts or anything."

He frowned at the mention of the school, and wizarding things. "It's our sort of magic. Your Father can choose to name your wolf or not to. If he does, you become... connected. You have status, rank, privilege within your pack. If he chooses not to..." He shrugged. "No status, no connection, no rank. You're a bastard, living on charity."

She nodded and looked over at the bastard wolves. They were leaner, paler, and talked rather animatedly -- but only to each other. Interesting. "Sounds dangerous," she muttered.

"Sorry?" Wesley hesitated in intruding on her private thoughts, and finished off his fish in a few quick, tidy bites.

"Nothing." It was best, she knew, to keep something to herself. If the Death Eaters needed to put these werewolves down like animals, there could be a way. "I -- " She was cut off by a knock on the door, two quick raps. Not Amycus, she just knew.

Fenrir was in her personal space within an instant, furiously whispering with his foul breath on her face. "You led them to us," he growled in accusation, his hand on her throat.

Alecto knew that she couldn't show fear again, or he would think himself dominant forever. "I did not, now I'll go answer the door, if you don't mind." She moved away from his prying hand and stood, feeling his eyes were on her back as she walked away. She briskly approached the door and opened it with a congenial smile. "Hullo!"

The man standing on the stoop was clearly a Ministry paper pusher, a clean-cut, well-dressed professional, if a bit nervous. His calculations were perfect, but there was a woman at the door now, a woman with a wand in her belt. He frowned, a little bit confused. "Hello, miss -- I think I must have the wrong house, I'm sorry -- "

Alecto gripped the doorknob white-knuckled to keep her smile. "Not many houses up here, I know, you're probably at the right place? Who are you looking for?"

He hesitated. "New arrivals in town," he said. "Have you seen anything odd recently?"

She feigned confusion. "No... now come in, it's cold out there, Mr...?"

"Pittiman, my name is Elliot Pittiman." He sent her a nervous smile as he stepped inside. "If I could use your Floo, I'll be on my way, miss."

Alecto's smile was genuine as she closed the door and brandished her wand. The tip touched his nose, making him quiver in a rather amusing way. She hid a giggle at his shocked expression, and managed to mock a frown. "Elliot... it's your unlucky day." With a few casual charms, she had his wrists magically bound behind his back. "Fenrir! It's safe."

Fenrir's rage had been building since the witch arrived earlier that morning, and now, he saw, there was a target he was allowed to harm. "What's this?" He eyed the wizard.

"This is Mr Elliot Pittiman." Alecto smoothed the middle-aged wizard's hair, smiling deviously as he stared at Fenrir in shock. "Where are you from, Mr. Pittiman? The Ministry? Couldn't be the Aurors..."

"Greyback," Pittiman pronounced, unable to tear his eyes from the wolf he'd seen at the front of Greyback's eyes only a few months prior. "You -- "

Alecto's wand pressed against his Adam's apple. "Answer my question." Her pleasant voice now had an edge.

"Werewolf Registry," Pittiman said abruptly. "There were werewolves vanishing from our tracking map -- their signatures flickering on and off, at times -- as though someone was trying to break the charms. I had to investigate."

Alecto looked up at Fenrir to gauge his response, and surprisingly his rage was directed at her. "You heard him, you vanished, I could have saved you all if you hadn't been trying to throw me out -- "

"You failed." Fenrir stepped closer to her, to stand over her. "You failed, and now we're discovered -- we're killing him, now."

"No!" Both Pittiman and Alecto spoke at once, though Alecto was the only one to snigger at the unison. She cleared her throat and put her hand on Fenrir's chest. "No. If anyone can break these charms properly, our dear Mr. Pittiman can."

Pittiman blanched at the very idea of breaking the charms that he'd helped perfect in the passing years. Even if this girl was going to kill him, releasing Greyback into the world without a chance of his being caught... he couldn't. "No, no, I won't, I refuse!"

Hearing Fenrir's snarl, Alecto seized the moment and shoved Pittiman into the nearest wall -- the same one she had hit earlier. "Don't be stupid," she whispered with gentle glee, her wand back at his throat. "I won't let you leave this house until you do it."

Women were naturally inferior, and Fenrir had seen enough of a woman considering herself above the Father of a pack -- but her making decisions in his pack house was too much. "CARROW, THIS IS MY PACK," he raged at her. "I make the decisions here!"

Alecto's everlasting patience neared its limits, anger reaching her eyes. "Am I wrong?" she asked softly, raising her wand.

Fenrir looked at the wizard instead, uncomfortable at the conduct of the witch. "Wizard," he began with a wide, wicked smile, "you're now in our service. Or you could die, if you like."

The odd exchange had drawn him in, and Pittiman had to resort to "What?" before the words reached his brain. "Yes -- er -- you can't kill me." It was too confident, he had to restate himself, they were staring at him. "I have -- a family, I have children, I have responsibilities, I'm the only one in the Werewolf Registry who cares about your kind," he tried.

Fenrir's smile only grew wider as Pittiman spoke. "Children," he repeated, and the horror that dawned on Pittiman's face was incredibly satisfying. "Make your decision quick. You release us, you help us, or your children die."

Alecto's shoulders shook with laughter at Fenrir's offer. "Oh, Elliot, please, make the right decision! Think of the children!" she cooed at him.

Timothy. Anna. Edward. Pittiman could see too well his own sons in the same state as Curenton's, his daughter's throat ripped out. "I will," he whispered, head dropping against the wall. "I will."

Alecto pulled his wand from his belt and stuck it in her own, then releasing him. As he rubbed at his wrists, she pulled up the sleeve of her robes, revealing her Dark Mark to his horrified gaze. "Welcome to the Dark Lord's service, Mr. Pittiman," she said, in her best imitation of a genteel greeting.

The last thing she heard of Pittiman that day was a pitiful sobbing from the closet that served as his cell.

~*~

December 1977

Isabelle Davis prided herself on her ability to do what had to be done, or at the very least, pay someone else to do it. Thorfinn Rowle looked half-troll but he was smart enough to charge her extra for her silence. No price was too high. Anything, even losing the chance for another handbag from this season's collection, was worth ridding the Slytherin girls' dormitory of the dreadful, obnoxious cat that Julia Frobisher insisted on letting loose.

A half hour had passed since Rowle took the cat away, but Isabelle imagined she could already feel the air clearing and hear the lovely silence where the thing wasn't mewing. "I wonder where Frobisher's cat is," she said aloud to her unknowing best mates, smiling at the nail varnish drying on her fingernails.

"Oh who cares, it's not here," Maude Bletchley stated, painting her own nails fastidiously. "That's what matters."

Sophia Higgs looked up from her Witch Weekly. "I haven't seen it all day." Just as well, the furry little thing had decided it wanted to sleep on her jumper, of all places! And Frobisher had the nerve to tell her to get over it.

Isabelle blew on her fingernails, rolling onto her back and considering the varnish in another light. "Maybe it ran off. Can you imagine, the poor thing? We only have to live with her during the school year and it has to live with her all the time."

Giggles ensued from both girls. "Maybe she sent it off to live with her other animal. You know. The werewolf," Maude said in an exaggerated stage whisper.

Isabelle giggled and looked between her two friends. "If he wouldn't eat it," she pointed out and pulled a face.

"Ew!" Maude squealed in return and they giggled.

There was the slightest hesitation before Sophia asked, "They don't really, do they?" She wouldn't have put it past them, but that was disgusting.

"Oh, civilised society's never bothered to study savages like werewolves," Isabelle dismissed. "Who knows what they're up to?" Besides killing her father and other innocent purebloods.

"Oh. Right," Sophia said, shrinking slightly and ignoring Maude's look that plainly said "What is wrong with you?"

"It probably depends on how hungry one is," Maude said out loud, very prim. "Or just on the instinct!"

"Oh, Frobisher must be so at home with creatures lacking any self-control. I don't think I'll ever get the filth off of my cheek from that time she hit me." Isabelle pressed a hand to her cheek, playing the tortured victim.

"That was so unbearably uncot of her," Sophia agreed immediately.

"Uncouth," Maude corrected. "And mannish."

"Well, she can marry a dog for all I care, at least we know she'll never make it into civilised society," Isabelle said flippantly.

"If she married him, she would be," Sophia laughed.

"They can't be married, it's illegal, why don't you know anything?" Maude demanded.

"I know lots of things!" Sophia exclaimed, offended.

"Oh, stop fighting, girls, they're not worth it." Isabelle yawned. "There are more important things to talk about. Like Alexandre and how he's going to propose to me when I'm out of Hogwarts. Everyone says so."

"Of course he is!" Maude agreed, as Sophia sulked in silence. "How could he not? It would be so wonderful! Would you live there?"

"Oh, I don't know." Isabelle tossed her hair. "I think I'd rather like to. We'll leave it up to him, of course, and my father."

"Of course," she said quickly.

"Where does he live over there, anyway? Paris has the most spectacular shopping," Sophia nodded knowledgeably.

"Touraine," Isabelle said proudly. "They have this beautiful châteaux, and his mother just dresses so fashionably all the time, his father is such a gentleman... I would just love to live there!"

"Ooh," Sophia said with the appropriate amount of reverence. "Beautiful."

The door swung open quite suddenly and Julia stumbled in, carrying a bookbag heavy with schoolwork and her Quidditch guards that needed a good cleaning, her hair still wet from the shower she'd taken after practise. She threw her bag and guards on her bed, and frowned. Odysseus usually slept on one corner of the bed, would be disturbed by her tossing things on the mattress, and give her a low mrow and a dirty look at his sleep being interrupted. As usual, she ignored her roommates and doubted they were going to return the favour.

"Speaking of beauty, here comes the opposite," Isabelle announced with a flourish and a wicked grin.

The two other girls giggled and Julia merely dumped her books out of her bag, preparing to take what she needed to the library. "D'you suppose she even washed it?" Maude asked, motioning at her own hair.

"Do you think she knows how?" Isabelle giggled.

"You three should really find a new hobby," Julia said darkly, shoving her Charms book into her bag.

Isabelle rolled onto her stomach, sending a sugary smile at their out-of-place roommate. "You just make it so easy, Julia!"

She would have really liked to have thrown a book at her. It would have just been far too easy. "What, not bored?"

"With you always giving us new material with your behaviour? Never!" Maude said.

"We were just talking about how you sent your cat off to stay with your other animal, the werewolf," Isabelle said smoothly. "And how he's probably eating it."

Julia threw her book on the mattress, met with a chorus of "ooh!" and giggles from Sophia and Maude. She was used to being talked about and giggled at and could more or less let it all roll off her, but she despised it when they talked about Jeremy. "I could hit you again. Like that, would you?" she challenged.

"And then we'll tell Professor Slughorn and you'll be in trouble," Sophia told her.

"We were just concerned about your cat," Isabelle said, fluttering her eyelashes innocently. "We haven't seen him all day."

"Sure you are," she said, beginning to feel uneasy about this. "Well I haven't seen him either and I didn't send him anywhere."

"Oh, you're sure?" Maude blinked innocently, although she had as much of an idea of where he was as Julia did.

"Of course I'm sure."

"Odd," Isabelle said with a shrug. "Maybe it ran away. Again, who could blame it?" She hid a far too satisfied smirk into her duvet.

Every instinct Julia had said not to trust them a bit, they were being... well, very pleased with themselves. "What did you do?" she demanded harshly.

"We didn't do anything!" Maude protested honestly.

"You're a little paranoid, aren't you? You should look into that," Isabelle advised, not revealing a hint of guilt.

It wasn't paranoia if they were really out to get you, she reasoned. And Isabelle and her hags were definitely out to get her. "What did you do?" she repeated.

"We didn't do anything." It wasn't a lie; after all, it was Isabelle's plan, and the other two were completely innocent. "Just because your animals don't like you doesn't mean you should take it out on us."

"I don't believe you," she said flatly.

"Denial," Isabelle sighed to her two friends. "It's pathetic, isn't it?"

"You shouldn't project your failure on us," Maude nodded in agreement. Sophia just giggled.

Julia looked between the three of them, and turned and left the room to enlist Gilly's help in searching the school grounds for her cat. She slammed the door behind her, eliciting more giggles from her roommates.

~*~

January 1978

Conor sat on the floor of the master bedroom of his pack's house, his back against the wall, prepared to be on an equal plane with the three people he trusted most in the world. In his past, before being bit, he had a knack for understanding connections and what was happening, with who, and where. Now, with the packs, there was an answer for each of those, but few answers to the countless "whys." Why were the packs restless? Because Fenrir's pack was stirring up trouble. How? With the arrival of a witch. Why? Conor didn't know. He needed to know.

Luckily, unlike most pack leaders, he felt comfortable reaching out for help or new ideas. And with a witch, a female named and an heir, he could expect a variety of answers.

Jane lightly touched her fingertips to the wall as she moved down the hallway. She tried not to worry about the meeting called -- if it were something to worry about, the entire pack would be meeting together, surely -- but general worry was easier than trying to tease out the specifics. She pushed the door open and saw at least that Geoffrey and Briony weren't there yet. "Hi," she told Conor.

He looked up to see his niece at the door, and sent her a grim, thin smile. "Hi. Have you seen the others? I understand Geoffrey and Patrick left the house for some time earlier, I was wondering if they'd returned."

"Yeah," she said, coming in and closing the door behind her. "I mean, I didn't talk to Geoff since then but I heard them come in. Haven't seen Bri."

Conor frowned but examined the worn tips of his shoes instead of allowing himself to worry. Briony was nothing if not entirely reliable. "No rush. We have at least a year before we should be concerned," he said, wry.

She knew better than to ask concerned about what, at least until Geoffrey and Briony managed to arrive. "Well. I'm sure it won't be that long," she said pragmatically instead, taking a seat on the floor as well.

He considered her, grateful more than he could say for Jane and the wand sticking out of her pocket. "Anything to tell me, before this becomes official?"

Jane tipped her head and looked at him. "Like what?"

"You're a witch. You're... pack, but you see things the rest of us don't. I know you, Jane." Conor looked directly at her.

There were days when Jane was uncertain of whether being a witch and not a werewolf was an asset to the pack or put her even more on the outside -- but Conor was right. Lack of a wolf might have left her without the multidimensionality of communication that was important in the pack, but it also offered her a certain amount of clarity. "Geoffrey's sharing his bed with Melinda."

It surprised him, though that sort of relationship wasn't uncommon among a Father and his pack, but he'd always seen Geoffrey's relationship with his ranked nameds as similar to his own relationship with Briony. It was certainly surprising and not wholly welcome news. "Ah." He failed to hide his displeasure. "Well, no harm as long as things don't go sour, I suppose."

She shrugged one shoulder. "They weren't exactly advertising it or anything."

He couldn't help his curiosity, and never had been able to. "How did you find out?"

"She leaves the room in the morning before people wake up. I'm up. I see things," she quoted him in conclusion.

He grinned at her. "Some days, I don't know what I'd do without you, Jane."

"Spend your days in woeful ignorance of what goes on around here, undoubtedly."

The door opened and Geoffrey looked inside, awaiting a nod from Conor before he entered the room and took a seat on the floor away from Jane. "Hello," he said, nodding to them both.

"Hi," Jane echoed, clamming up and doing her best to look like they hadn't just been talking about him. How awkward.

"Have you seen Briony?" Conor asked him, offering nothing else in greeting. After all, no pack leader in his right mind could treat an heir with too much affection, particularly one as distracted as Geoffrey.

"She was right behind me," Geoffrey answered, ever the obedient heir, despite everything. "At least, I thought so, I think she meant to talk to Melinda."

There was a conversation Jane was sorry she was missing. She wondered if Briony knew about Geoffrey and Melinda, too. Probably, she decided. "Then she's probably not far behind."

Conor reached out with his wolf to sense Briony, couldn't find her, and took the moment to reach out to Geoffrey, who reacted in kind, though his heir's wolf revealed fear. "Hm," he said. "It's just a simple conversation, Geoffrey, you know Briony. She gets to the point quickly. Do you have anything to tell me?"

After so many years with his Father and Jane, Geoffrey knew the nature of the conversation without even drawing on the wolf. "It's entirely within my rights and I don't think I should be judged on it, Conor." He sent Jane a significant look. "Every leader has his favourites."

Jane raised an eyebrow back, cool as she could manage. She wasn't going to apologise for anything. "Nothing to hide amongst family, right?"

Geoffrey practically leapt to the defensive, tensing, all frustration and resentment. Being heir wasn't an easy life, but most heirs were also the treasured first. "I didn't hide anything. Melinda was ashamed and thought that Conor might think badly of it, but I knew my Father to be a more reasonable man than that, and I'm right, aren't I?"

"Geoffrey." Conor spoke evenly, his voice lowered. "Calm yourself. Control yourself. The full moon isn't far, and you can't afford another transformation like the last." He watched his son thumb the start of a scar gained in a skirmish still in recent memory, when Conor had control and Geoffrey did not. "Be the man I trust you are and I'll respect this decision. I only need you to control yourself."

Geoffrey spoke formally, stilted, not trusting himself with anything further. "Yes, Father." Despite his holding back, his wolf extended deference to its father, which was accepted. He exhaled in relief and said, "I hope that wasn't the purpose of his meeting."

Conor shook his head and glanced up at the door as his wolf felt Briony nearby. "No," he said, and waited.

Only seconds later, and Briony pushed the door open, immediately seeing the three of them waiting for her. "Not late am I?" she asked casually, taking a seat closer to Geoffrey than to Jane.

"No, we're all early," Geoffrey said with a touch of sarcasm, catching Briony's eye and touching her wolf with his to temper the remark. "Hello."

"Where were you?" Conor asked just as casually, merely watching and listening and feeling the two of them to see if there was once again anything he was not being told.

"Just stopped to talk with Melinda," she said, keeping open to Conor. She didn't feel as though there were anything to not be open about; she nudged Geoffrey's wolf playfully in return of the sentiment.

Geoffrey couldn't get too resentful, as his wolf was in far too good a mood at the arrival of its sister to allow him to. "You know as well then," he said to Briony.

"You both have glass faces, all anyone had to do was put two and two together, Geoff."

He accepted that with a muffled grunt, but still smiled, only growing more serious when he looked to Conor, who watched him in particular. "Why are we here, Conor? I think it's safe to say we're all concerned at your... you're more thoughtful," Geoffrey said. "You seem worried. It's not like you."

"Yeah," Briony agreed softly, calming herself and growing ready to listen. Jane said nothing, but also settled herself, resting her chin on her knees and growing attentive.

Conor stayed silently reflective as he thought how to best put it into words so they could really understand the situation. "The Greyback pack is returning to its root ideal," he said. "The belief that Greyback held for so many years, only in theory. An idea of werewolf supremacy that leads to the natural conclusion of the Unified Pack."

Briony considered her Father for a short moment after and was the first to speak. "They are talking about it again, or they are seeking to act on it?" she asked, making the careful distinction between the two.

"That's the question, isn't it." Conor allowed his concern to show and released some of his iron-clad control, since if anyone could read him, it was these three. "They haven't said a word about it to the packs, but they've started to act more aggressively and ... they have a witch living with them now. A witch whose purposes don't exactly seem... beneficial to the pack itself."

Briony quickly glanced at Jane, who pretended not to see it, and most pointedly did not look at Geoffrey. "So she's... just there? Is she a wand or just... " She hesitated. Conor obviously didn't have any answers for her growing number of questions, there was no point to asking.

Conor hesitated, too, in going, because he had done enough speculation for a lifetime while working for The Daily Prophet, and now it just felt dishonest and wizardly to do so when it came to issues affecting his pack. But at this point, he was almost certain. "I believe she's one of You-Know-Who's lot."

"Unsurprising," Geoffrey said acidly. It was the pack his Father once belonged to, still technically belonged to, but he himself never cared much for the Greyback pack. An alliance with the Death Eaters was just a further, almost logical step in Fenrir's madness. "Unsurprisingly hypocritical. Why do we tolerate them?"

"Because as long as they're not bothering us, why does it matter?" Jane observed rhetorically.

"I doubt us tolerating them is the way Fenrir would see things." Briony glanced to her brother. Her time in the Greyback pack with Conor was many years ago when she was much younger, but there were some things you just didn't forget - and she doubted that Geoffrey would have forgotten either.

Geoffrey caught Briony's eye but shook his head. "Which came first, the hope for a unified pack or the Death Eaters' involvement? Did Fenrir reach out to the Death Eaters for help, or are the Death Eaters using him and he's taking advantage of their wands to advance the unified pack? That is, if he's actually going to act on it." The very idea of his pack losing its identity made the wolf cringe and react, but he merely released a slow breath to calm it.

"The Death Eaters freed Fenrir from the Ministry." Conor's answer was terse. Fenrir had once been a friend, of sorts, a friend he would have trusted with his life. Now he likely couldn't even trust Fenrir not to get himself killed. "The Death Eaters must be using him. He wouldn't tolerate a witch unless he had to. He might be a hypocrite, as are we all, but this is too far. He would never go this far."

"The latter, then," Briony murmured. She wasn't sure which idea was more repellent to her, the unified pack or witches and wizards (any witches and wizards) using werewolves. Even if that wolf was Fenrir Greyback.

"So," Jane finished, looking around their circle. The question seemed to be hanging over them, someone had to ask. "What are we going to do about it?"

"What authority do we have over Fenrir, besides having common sense?" Geoffrey spoke up immediately. "Technically he has authority over us if anything, we're in no position to demand anything."

"... Apologies, what I meant was that I somehow doubted any of us would be content to sit on our hands when there a present possible threat to the pack," she clarified.

"All we can do is be as good a friend to the Greyback pack as we always have been." Conor tilted his gaze to the floor, disturbed at the quick and fatalist conclusions drawn already. "All we can do is our best to make certain that those ideas fade or fail. We must talk to Fenrir. We must go to him, and try to stop what could possibly be war."

"So... you're going," Briony said, undeniably displeased, and already thinking about the ways in which this could work out, many of them unpleasant.

Conor exhaled, stood, and after a moment of surveying his three, held his hand out to Briony. "No. We're going."

As unhappy as she'd just been, she was more surprised that they would be going. "Just us?" she asked.

"When?" Jane broke in, the more important question.

Conor straightened, thinking quickly and answering just as fast. "As soon as possible. This isn't something we can delay on, the Death Eaters have managed to persuade other races to their side and they won't hesitate to flatter Fenrir's ego, then use him to control the rest of us. We may have a war on our hands sooner than later if we let the witch poison his mind."

Geoffrey stared up at his Father, his wolf aching and whining at the idea of the absence of its Father, at its Father taking such a risk. "You're going to walk into what might be enemy territory? You have to take me, Conor, it would be a much better show of authority, we must show ourselves as a traditional pack, one that can be trusted."

"It's also more aggressive," Briony told him. She touched his wolf, with a light, only slightly guilty touch. They were as close as any brother and sister tended to be, not without their rivalry. She was the first, without doubt or reservation, but he was the heir. That, and now she really wanted to go.

"Yes," Conor said in affirmation, touching his son's forehead in a gesture of rare affection. "I might as well walk right through his door and declare war if I arrive there with my heir -- my headstrong, perhaps too pragmatic heir, at that. Briony and I will go to Fenrir and do our best to turn his mind towards reason. You and Jane will handle the pack, as I know you're more than capable."

Not only a female, but a witch. Geoffrey controlled his resentment at the soothing presence of his Father and sister, no matter how strained the relationship could be with such a strange arrangement of affairs. And after all, good pack leaders didn't hold petty grudges and inevitably lose control at the next full moon. "Of course."

Jane nodded slowly at everything, taking it all in. She didn't want to show her nerves on staying with Geoffrey. There wasn't a doubt that he would follow Conor's orders, but as he had said, Geoffrey was headstrong and very pragmatic. "You really are needed here," she said finally.

Conor nodded at that, satisfied at a shift towards thoughtfulness in Geoffrey's mood. "We'll leave tomorrow after breakfast, and discuss it with the pack then. Get some sleep, Briony. We'll have a long journey ahead of us. That's all, unless any of you have other concerns to bring to me."

Briony looked at Jane and back to Geoffrey. "No," she said, voicing the sense of finality.

Conor looked at the other two, finding only assent, and so concluded the meeting. "Good," he said, and stepped around the circle to leave them alone in the room.

They were silent until the door closed behind him. "You guys can't kill each other while we're gone. Seriously," Briony added, only about half joking.

"I promise nothing," Geoffrey clearly joked, and sighed after a moment, not much feeling like the heir to the pack.

"It'd be a close one," Jane added in a similar tone, but it was also clear that the weight of the new situation was pulling their levity down like lead.

"I have to go." Geoffrey both spoke and stood abruptly, only leaving once he caught Jane's eye and touched his wolf to Briony's for one last time. It indicated his worry, pride, his hope that everything would go well, in that single brush, and then he could allow himself to go speak to Melinda.

Briony held on to the connection as long as she could, even after he'd left the room and closed the door, leaving the two girls together. She already missed him. She looked back to Jane, who stared back in silence, a true indication of how little she actually had to say to her on a normal basis. "He's going to count on both of you to keep things running smoothly here," she said.

"I know it," Jane said. "He's going to count on you to not lose your head and watch his back."

Such was their truce, a slightly awkward arrangement wherein they said nothing and everything all at once. "I've never not," she replied, lifting herself from the floor and leaving the witch to her business.

~*~

February 1978

Valentine's Day was turning out pretty groovy, if Sirius Black did say so himself. Love was in the air, and it was so disgusting at some turns it was hilarious. James spent all day sneaking kisses out of Lily (even in the middle of class), and she turned the colour of a tomato every single time. Remus's mum sent them an enormous care package filled with sweets of all shapes, colours, and flavours. Sirius himself, of course, had received a host of valentines, some from girls he wasn't even sure he could put a face to. Even Peter had gotten a sweet card with a bad quatrain from a little firstie who, strangely, hadn't shown her face at the Gryffindor table since breakfast.

Lily sat across from him at the dinner table, reading her Charms text since James had yet to show up for dinner after Quidditch practice. Sirius considered giving her flack, but nothing had really come to mind so he was satisfied to jump between teasing Peter and Remus. All in all, a normal dinner for their group.

"She meant well," Peter protested finally in response to the teasing. "She's - nice!"

"Yeah, but she's twelve," James said, as he took his seat next to Lily again. He kissed her cheek and transfigured her spoon into a rose, which he offered to her.

Lily took the rose and sighed. "Thank you," she said. "It's a lot less useful than my spoon in eating my soup, though."

"At least he's getting a girl," Sirius cracked. "In ten years the six year age difference is going to be hardly anything!"

"I think it's sweet," Lily replied, letting James lean in closer to her. "She doesn't mean any harm - "

James looked up from another attempt at wooing Lily into a public display of affection to speak up. "Even if she does, he's likely to enjoy it - we see how you look at McGonagall, mate, no denying it!"

"Oh Merlin, James," Peter said, looking a bit green.

"Ew, did we really have to bring McGonagall into this?" Sirius pulled a face and made a show of falling over onto the table. "I mean. Really, Prongs?"

"Consider it payback for everything you say about my mother," Remus spoke up, taking a bite of shepherd's pie.

"Think she got our Valentine, Padfoot?" James asked, offhand.

Remus choked, and Sirius lifted his head. "Well, she didn't send the panties we requested, so I have to wonder," he said.

"You two are disgusting," Lily informed them both, eyeing Remus with concern.

"Well, the poetry we sent her wasn't quite up to snuff with little Liza Abercrombie's, but I thought it was pretty impressive," Sirius said with an exaggerated sigh.

Peter looked up from his food. "So that's what you were working on, I knew that you couldn't be laughing that hard at Charms homework!"

"I can't rhyme in my Charms homework, either. Flitwick might get suspicious."

"Oh, come on," Remus said. "If you guys keep that up, then I'm not sharing any more of the care package."

"Ah, Moony, why do you think you got a care package at all?" James winked.

"Uh. She's my mother?"

"If that helps you sleep at night," Sirius said loftily. "It helps me!"

"Don't worry, Lily, you're the only one who helps me sleep at night," James mentioned.

Peter made a face, and fished some sweets from his pocket.

"Well, I wasn't worried," she said, somewhat amusedly. "I think I could take Mrs Lupin if I had to," she added seriously.

"I don't know, my mum is a pretty tough lady," Remus said in a similar tone.

"Yeah, but our Lily's a fighter," James said, putting his arm around her.

"Yeah, she's a real champion," Sirius replied drolly.

Lily said nothing to Sirius, merely picked up her roll, contemplated it, and chucked it at him, hitting him in the eye.

James nearly choked on his gulp of water and started to laugh very hard.

"Lily, one, Sirius, zero," Peter said seriously.

"That's usually how it goes," Remus said.

"One day," Sirius put in, picking the roll up out of his lap and tearing it in half. "One day I am going to make up all those points, and then my friends you will be sorry."

"Not as sorry as you'll be when she gets you back, double or nothing," James returned. He Summoned half of the roll over to him and tossed it into the air, catching it in his mouth.

"I was going to eat that," Sirius informed him.

James Summoned the other half. "What're you going to do about it?"

Sirius Summoned them back and stuffed them into his mouth. "That," he said through the bread in his mouth.

Remus couldn't help but stare. "That," he said to Lily beside him, "is a terrifying sight."

James's mouth hung open, just as it was when Sirius had Summoned chewed bread right out of it. "You just - " He laughed hard enough to start going red.

"Is it any wonder you haven't managed to charm the panties off of Mary, yet?" Lily asked rhetorically, trying her hardest not to appear disgusted and failing miserably.

"That is assuming she's wearing any," Sirius replied easily.

"Do you just... keep a list of ways you're going to be gross?" she added.

"No, that's his natural charm," James said helpfully, the colour starting to fade from his face.

"... And thus, much is explained." Remus contemplated it.

"Everything you ever wanted or needed to know about Sirius Black, am I right?" Sirius asked.

"Not really." Lily shook her head.

"After seven years there's very little we don't know. Besides why you'd want to eat food I'd already chewed," James added. "Then again, we are talking about food from my mouth, so who could blame you. Careful, Wormtail, Liza Abercrombie might try for that Chocolate Frog!"

Peter swallowed quickly, and wiped the chocolate from his mouth. "What?"

"Chew with your mouth closed is what we're saying," Sirius explained.

"You're the one who took food from James's mouth." Lily raised an eyebrow. "So, really..."

"You lose all right to talk about etiquette after you literally steal food from someone else's mouth, mate," James informed Sirius.

"You stole my food. It was a matter of pride," he said.

"Oh yeah? Glad you have your pride, it only took sharing saliva with me to regain."

"Lily shares your saliva and she has to touch you to do it."

James could not possibly take mention of snogging Lily Evans as an insult. "And she's the luckiest girl in Hogwarts for it," he said, and stole another kiss from Lily.

Unfortunately this happened whilst Lily had a mouthful of carrots, and somehow she managed to swallow and kiss James at the same time without choking to death - almost. "Do you think you can check to see if I'm actually eating next time?" she asked, coughing.

"Slughorn isn't kidding, you are talented," James said, smirking. "I wonder what else you could do - "

"Finish that sentence and you are not getting your present," Lily cut him off calmly.

"Thank god," Sirius said with a face.

"Finished!" James put his hands up.

"Good boy," Lily said, patting him on the cheek.

"Sit, stay," Peter quipped.

"No point in asking him to speak, I suppose?" Remus said.

"He does that without being ordered," Peter returned.

"I guess 'roll over' isn't something we'd necessarily want to hear, either..."

Lily sighed. "How did we pick this up again?"

"James was amazed at your talent," Sirius said with a rather smug, obnoxious grin.

James grinned back, just as smug. "You don't know what you're missing."

"She didn't say 'speak,'" Peter mentioned.

Sirius roared with laughter, and Remus and Lily had to smile. "I didn't, did I?" Lily smirked at James. "Shh. Be quiet," she further teased.

"Make me," James teased back.

She made a face. "Present," she reminded him.

"You're a gift enough, you know."

Peter snorted loudly enough to catch the attention of the rest of Gryffindor.

Sirius laughed again, but addressed James and Lily. "Save it, get a room if you have to," he said.

"Oh come on, today I have an excuse to flirt with her in public," James protested, though he grinned.

"James," Remus started pragmatically, "when have you ever needed an excuse?"

"He's right, you know," Sirius agreed.

James shrugged, shameless. "I don't, but at least I have one this time. That helps, right?"

"Not really," Lily replied, taking the last few bites of her dinner quickly. "Okay. Present! Back to Gryffindor," she cried, jumping up and taking James's hand, beginning to drag him behind her. He gave the boys a victorious thumbs up before laughing and following after.

"Three Galleons says he's getting laid," Sirius said, once they were out of earshot.

"Sirius," Remus chided.

Peter shrugged. "I'll take that bet."

Remus rolled his eyes, but didn't really have the heart to chastise them further. It was, after all, Valentine's Day.

~*~

March 1978

Rufus Scrimgeour tried to scour the image of Alastor Moody's smug bastard face from his mind as he left the Auror office to find Frank Longbottom and deliver the handwritten note to Frank Longbottom himself.

Told you it'd come down to the best, Scrimgeour. Moody really was a bastard. The Longbottoms were kids, not out of school for more than five years, he thought offhand, and in the Auror office for less than three years besides. Certainly they had made an impressive showing during training and even with the cases they'd been handed so far, but there was something to be said for experience, the sort gained only through a number of years as an Auror.

Nevertheless, the note, scribbled and folded in a manner that suggested less than formal resignation, was not for him. Understandable, as Fenrir Greyback and this whole debacle was his failure, at least in part. The Auror office rarely gave second chances.

"Longbottom!" Scrimgeour barked, at a loss for finding either of the married couple's cubicles.

Which one? was always the quick, wry reply to that cry, but something about this made Frank sit up and take notice. He slid back from his cubicle and looked, seeing Rufus Scrimgeour at the end of the aisle, fit to be tied. "Sir?" he said.

Scrimgeour nodded, not about to waste any time. "Where's your better half, Longbottom?" he asked, with a valiant attempt not to be terse.

"She, ah. Took her lunch early I think, but otherwise she'd be in her cube - just around the corner," he said as he motioned. He was babbling. "What is it?"

He held out the note. "For you, from the head of the office," he said. "Consider it an honour."

Frank took the parchment and opened it. As he read it his eyebrows raised. The King case was theirs. The most high profile case the Department had to offer - and the most difficult. Susanna King had given the phrase 'hostile witness' a whole new meaning as Auror after Auror was handed the case, hoped to break her and make her talk, and inevitably wound up disappointed. For a moment, he was speechless. "I... understand," he finally said, slowly.

"Moody vouched for the two of you," Scrimgeour felt it necessary to mention. "You'd best deliver."

So no pressure, then. He exhaled. "I'll examine the file and we'll get on it." Not that bits and parts of the case file hadn't circulated the office by mouth.

"She's waiting," the older Auror said simply, and gave him a curt nod and added, "Best of luck," before he went back to his own desk.

In minutes, Frank had acquired Susanna King's case file, although it took the better part of half an hour to make his way through it. When he approached the interrogation room where she was being kept, he became jumpy. He felt like he should be knocking, which was completely ridiculous. Instead, he pushed the door open and walked into the room, regarding the prisoner for a moment from his side of the table.

No one could blame Susanna King for being in a really dreadful mood. Her hair lacked its body, the prison robes were ill-fitting, and death lay in either direction she took. The Aurors who came in to badger her became her only sport and distraction - if they intended on making her suffer, she knew how to play that game and win. And she was; she rarely saw the same Auror twice. Now there was a new one, a boy young enough to be her son. "Ah, I recognise you, I think." Susanna looked up at him with curiosity. "I used to work here, you know. Go on, sit, dear."

Yes, she most certainly had. He remained standing for the moment at least; sitting would lead her to think that she had the power in the room. Instead, he smiled in a way that must have been ever so slightly condescending, which would have annoyed him if he were her. "You've been causing quite an uproar in the Department," he said.

A new approach. Well, she could handle the boy. "Have I? It's just that I haven't had a moment to think since I was locked away and I've so many things to think about -- as you well may expect. I'm in a very messy situation. What's your name?"

"Very messy," Frank agreed, although he ignored her question about his name. "You have some very interesting connections, Miss King - it is Miss, not Mrs, correct?"

"Do I?" She leaned back in her chair with a casual elegance as though in rich dress robes, and tucked her hair back fastidiously. "It is Miss King, yes. I put my life into this Department rather than into a marriage. Are you married, young man?"

So detective work wasn't really her strong point; his ring was on the appropriate finger, in plain sight. Either that, or she was trying to divert him. He would have put a great deal of money on the latter. "Found with a deceased Bradley Davis and Fenrir Greyback gone? I would call that an odd connection."

"You're not answering any of my questions," Susanna complained, tilting her head back and giving a luxurious yawn. "If I didn't answer these questions from all of those other men, I'm not going to answer yours, so you shouldn't waste your time. Or are you looking for a feather for your cap, dear? Ambition is a fine trait."

"There's no room in this department for personal ambition," Frank said firmly. Not if they wanted it to work the way that it should, there wasn't. "We're a force. Aurors can't be a force if we're all out there trying to make ourselves look good."

Susanna looked at him with a bemused expression before outright laughing at him. "Oh, yes," she giggled. "Tell that to the Aurors who came in here all ready to bring me to the Wizengamot in chains, declaring me a Death Eater and friend of werewolves!"

"Yes, I wonder where we'd get an idea like that," he replied dryly. "All the same, I don't suppose anyone else had bothered to mention the possibility of a sort of... compromise."

Something new. All the others just wanted the information, the glory, and had nothing to offer... but what she knew demanded a promise of reciprocation. "You'll give me a deal," she translated. "What makes you think I have any information that will be of use to you?"

"Well, until you relinquish such information, I don't," he admitted. "But we are currently seeking one important bit of information and you seem to be the only one who can give us an answer." He was toeing a line. He wasn't really certain that this was information they were looking for or not, but this was something that had occurred to Frank when he was otherwise perusing the casefile. And it was certainly a lot more subtle than threats of declamation in front of the Wizengamot. "With you, and apparently Mr Davis, the Death Eaters of You-Know-Who are connected to the werewolves. But why."

A sigh escaped her and she straightened. The effort to not just collapse and tell it all was beginning to exhaust her. "'Why?' Do you expect me to answer that?" She gave him a sideways glance, drumming her fingers just a bit nervously. "First time anyone's bothered to ask, though."

Frank somehow found it hard to believe that he was the only one so far to insinuate a connection. But then again, anything was possible. "If you cooperate with the investigation, I can -- well, I would find it impossible to believe that you could walk, but there's always lighter sentencing, which is better than nothing."

"Oh yes, only a few years in Azkaban, a much lighter fate." Susanna closed her eyes and relaxed her posture a little. "You're a nice boy, your wife is lucky. What is it you want to know?"

Finally, somewhere. He took a seat for the first time in the empty chair provided. "Why is You-Know-Who interested in the werewolves? And why does he need Fenrir Greyback?"

Susanna gave every indication of the exhausted inmate finally relinquishing the story. "I'm surprised you have to ask. That's always been the main failing of the Aurors, always presuming the answers are more complicated than they are. Both your answers are the same."

At that moment, Frank wasn't very interested in her criticisms of the Aurors, but talking was better than not. "All right, so the answers are the same. What is the answer, then?"

Susanna examined him with a bemused stare. "You don't know much about werewolves, do you, boy? Ought to fix that."

I should say not nearly left his mouth, but instead he leaned forward onto the table, his expression unreadable. "Consider this a teaching opportunity, Miss King."

She spoke steadily, with little inflection. "There is every indication that Bradley Davis and I released the werewolf Fenrir Greyback from his cell for the Dark Lord's cause. I fear and love the Dark Lord, but I fear him for good reason, but I have equally good reason to fear the Ministry's wrath due to our unleashing the horror of Greyback and his bloodlust. No matter what I tell you, I'll be punished. If you deduce some of the more incriminating parts yourself, I may be more willing to answer questions. Or can you Aurors accomplish that much?" She smiled at the end of her statement, sitting back.

Okay, so she was good. He could see how she'd stood under the pressure of interrogation, and even sent one away crying. He began combing and wracking his brain for what he knew. "Werewolves are... considered Dark Creatures, and... well, if You-Know-Who has the giants and uses them for his purposes, I suppose the werewolves would be the natural progression. But to what specific end?"

Susanna's eyebrows shot up and a smile spread across her face before she burst into a bout of laughter. "Go learn something, I'm a Death Eater, not a professor," she said with an air of generosity. "It'll get you out of this office, after all, and you can get some air."

And Frank was an Auror, not a trainee to be condescended to. He absolutely forbid his cheeks to flush in anger, but felt them do it anyway. Traitorous of them. Every bit as stubborn as she, he was not ready to give up yet. Werewolves, who knew about werewolves? A small community of intellectuals and activists who did things like incite riots and...

... write books. Which people occasionally read.

It occurred to him who he needed, who should be in here with him anyway. Alice should be back from her lunch by now. With renewed energy, Frank stood up and pushed his chair back in to the table. "Don't go anywhere," he told Susanna dryly, knowing perfectly well that she was bound to her chair and not going anywhere until the charm was released.

He moved down the hallway at a considerable pace, scanning carefully for Alice. He didn't see her immediately, but found her in her cubicle, bent over a parchment and filling in blanks with her typical meticulous care. "Alice, are you busy at the moment?" Yes, without so much as a hi or hello, but this was important business.

Alice smiled down at her work at the sound of his voice, almost pleased at the interruption from the bureaucratic drudgery. "Hello to you, too, love. I'm working," she answered ambiguously. "What do you need?"

He smiled back at her briefly. "Sorry, I'm just in the middle of... I need you and your brain, if that can wait for a bit."

"My brain's yours for the use, what's happening?" She frowned, then gave him a calculating look. "Nothing too foreboding, I hope."

Dear Merlin, he almost couldn't say it, because this was a colleague but also his wife, and it would be no trouble to even go to the head of the department and say it. But they could get this. His gut told him that they could. "Scrimgeour handed us King, and she and I have come to a bit of an impasse," he said. "There's the connection with You-Know-Who and the werewolves, it's all there, it just -- it needs to be done with someone who understands it better than I do."

She had to smile at that, because if anyone knew how stubborn Frank was, it was certainly Alice (and his mother, but she tried not to think of her mother-in-law very much). "Just give me a moment." She took up the quill and hurriedly finished her form, transforming it into a memo and sending it off, only then standing to give her husband a quick kiss. "I'll get her to talk, don't worry."

"We're in room four," he said with a smile, motioning for her to follow as he filled her in on anything that mightn't have gotten to her through the rumour mill. Like the deal. "She's rather uncooperative. I offered her a deal to answer questions, but so far all she's done is try to get me to fill in the blanks."

"She worked here," Alice reminded him gently. "She worked here and no one knew that she was even working against us. She can't have a very high opinion of the Aurors." She winked at him and opened the door. "But if anyone can outsmart her, we can."

Frank really didn't want to appear conceited, but he nodded his agreement. As far as he knew a pair hadn't been sent in, and two just might have been needed. He followed her in and closed the door behind the two of them.

Susanna gave the girl a scrutinising look, and hid her surprise as she immediately approached and sat across from her. "Never bring a man to do a woman's job, is that it?" she asked Frank, not even regarding the girl.

"Consider it a consultation," he said. "Now, where we last left off, you were quizzing me on werewolves and why You-Know-Who could possibly want Fenrir Greyback and would spring him from jail. This is just someone who happens to know a little bit more than I do in this particular area. Your prisoner," he finished to Alice.

Alice nodded, then looked at the Death Eater, ignoring her confidence. "I'm going to ask you questions and you're going to answer truthfully." She spoke harshly, not going to be judged as a woman Auror here. "Anything else and we withdraw any possible deal."

Susanna looked as though she was resisting the urge to laugh at this one, too. "Understood."

Alice strained to remember everything she'd read about werewolves in her final year at Hogwarts. She was by no means a radical who championed their rights, nor a bigot who tried to show off their failings, but Alice had a weakness for lost causes. "Fenrir Greyback is the head of a pack, yes?"

Packs. Packs meant numbers, and numbers meant shoring up an army. Nothing new there. Frank waited for Susanna to answer, their deal was slowly but surely getting ready to be taken off the table. "Answer."

Susanna rolled her eyes and leaned forward. "Don't you dare push me or I won't say a word," she snapped. "I'll confess to murdering Bradley myself and you'll never know any of the reasons because they'll see me dead."

It was ridiculous to give her the upper hand, but he reminded himself that something could be better than nothing, and now Alice was here. "It was a simple question, simple answer," he said calmly. "I apologise, continue."

The shift in conversation left Alice suddenly nervous, but she took a deep breath, completely focused when she turned back at Susanna. "He is the head of his pack and you need his pack," she concluded. "Why do you need his pack in particular? There are plenty of non-jailed werewolf pack leaders go to after, right?"

"I thought you brought me a scholar." Susanna sent a light smile in Frank's direction, enjoying Alice's frustration. "He was convenient," she added facetiously. "We just had a few questions to ask a werewolf and decided to let him loose, on a lark. Good man. Has a taste for Mudbloods and Muggles."

"... Intimidation and terror, of course, why else," Frank murmured. It was almost too simple to be believed. "And if you can embarrass the MLE and get what you need, that's two birds with one stone."

"No!" The word was out of Alice's mouth before she could think twice, and she flushed both in anger and embarrassment as the older witch began to laugh at her. "No, it can't be that simple."

"It's never that simple," Frank agreed. He circled the table, now behind Susanna, just beginning to be irked by this interrogation. "What's our missing second bird, Miss King? We need answers, not cryptic diatribe."

Susanna's nerves, too, were starting to fray. "Funny, we're talking about what you want, when I'm the only one with the answers here," she shot back.

Something clicked in Alice's head and she sat forward, leaning on her elbows, speaking each question that came to mind. "What is it? Did he agree to work with you? Would none of the others work with you, did you try? Is there something special about Greyback?"

Frank could almost see the switch being thrown in Alice's brain and listened to every question carefully, trying to build and fill in the blanks in his own head. She'd said the answer to why Fenrir Greyback had been the same as why werewolves. Of course, she could have been lying, but he didn't think so. Since it would only give her a reason to complain of diversion, he remained silent.

Susanna could feel the cage building around her, and the only way to keep them from concluding the whole truth without any benefit to her would be to seize the moment. "You must agree to let me free, and I will tell you everything I know about Fenrir Greyback and his likely whereabouts. This has to be secret. There are more Death Eaters in this Department who will be more than eager to kill me if they know that I've spoken."

If this didn't work out without kinks, trouble, or general bad things, there could be trouble. For him, and Alice, now too, protocol being what it was. But still. "The Department can protect you," he said carefully. "Secretly, all that... few people involved as possible, of course."

"If you don't, I'll have this wife of yours dead within the year." Susanna sat up straight, shoulders even, expression cold. "I have my ways, Frank Longbottom."

He immediately decided if he ever met her in the field, he would kill her. "You are the one facing time in Azkaban, here," he told her coldly. "Threaten us again and the deal is off the table."

Susanna looked at Alice as she explained flatly. "Fenrir Greyback is known to support a unified pack of the entire race of werewolves. It was like a gift fell into our laps. We had him cornered and could convince him to our cause, or he would most certainly be condemned to die."

"How?" Frank asked. It was like turning on a light to walk through a room instead of carefully feeling your way through; illuminating. He looked at Alice to see what this could mean to her.

The Curenton book talked about this, a whole chapter at least seemed to focus on executions or the Dementor's Kiss, and Alice strained to remember it all. "Werewolves don't even like to talk to wizards because they expect everything to be misconstrued into a threat," she began slowly. "A unified pack supporter would hate wizards even more. So getting him to trust you would be a first priority."

Susanna couldn't resist a wide smile at that. "Trust, you say? Who trusts the Dark Lord, except for his servants? No, halfbreeds and their supporters know better than to leap into the jaws of the fox, so to speak."

"So if there wasn't trust, then there was something else." Frank spoke more out loud to himself than either of them at the moment. Pieces were starting to fall into place. "An exchange. Quid pro quo."

"You offered a deal, just like we're offering you," Alice realised, feeling less triumphant than frightened. You-Know-Who had extended a deal to that werewolf and he'd likely taken it... "Freedom, but at what cost? Information? Servitude?" She felt herself beginning to pale.

"You're nearly there." Susanna drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair, saying nothing more.

The room was quiet while Frank and Alice both thought. "Freedom for Greyback, servitude to them," Frank murmured, "it wasn't information, they wouldn't need him out for that..."

Someone could be watching, someone who could see her dead within days. The fear threatened to overwhelm her, but Susanna kept herself calm and spoke softly, urgently. "We needed two. To truly bind him to the Dark Lord, we needed one to bind him and one to bond them."

Bam, there it was. ".... You're talking Unbreakable Vow," Frank said slowly.

She nodded slowly, and hesitated before going on. "Bradley," she began. "He killed Bradley, I don't think he knew the real rules of the Vow, because he ought to have killed me." She gave a bitter snort. "Disgusting creature. They'll have sent Death Eaters after him, to secure his services," she added.

"What were the terms?" Alice twisted her wedding ring and tried not to focus on the idea of an Unbreakable Vow. "You were bound to him, but what terms did you give?"

Susanna laughed unhappily at that. "You expect me to tell you that, after all I've already told? Just outright tell you? It doesn't matter, at any rate; even if you kill me and break the Vow, he's probably kneeling at the feet of our Lord already."

"If You-Know-Who needs his leadership for the werewolves and needs him bound to service, why would they have an interest in killing you?" Frank asked curiously.

Susanna was surprised he even had to ask. "Traitors deserve death."

It occurred to Frank that this wasn't a matter of cutting your losses and doing something like that would be a setback rather than a step forward. But it was hardly here or there at the moment. "Very well. Unbreakable Vow, then." He looked at Alice.

Ensnared in her thoughts, Alice stared at the edge of the table until she could bring herself to stand. "Yes. We'll see you soon, Miss King, but for now we have to see if we can make you a deal," she said. "Thank you for being so cooperative."

He let Alice make a move to leave the room first, picking up the casefile where he'd dropped it on the table. "Someone will come to remove you to your cell shortly," he told her, "Thank you for your cooperation."

Susanna merely sneered at his back as he shut the door. She'd made the right choice - it wasn't cowardly but it wasn't pretty either. Still, she would handle the results.

Alice leaned against the wall, eyes closing, as the door shut. "Frank, love, we... we have to tell Dumbledore," she urged. "This is ... we have to look into all of this, every bit of it, the Werewolf Registry..."

Frank ran a hand over his face and gave a tired sighing. "He does need to know," he agreed. "There's no telling how far up or out this has gone. He'll know what to make of this all." He looked at her for the first time, her distress rising to the surface. "You did brilliantly in there, love."

"Oh -- it was nothing, I irritated her more than anything else, you saw," Alice protested. She allowed herself to stop twisting her wedding ring out of nerves and reach for his hand.

He squeezed her hand tightly. "You were. Never would have pieced it together without you."

She smiled genuinely, and touched his face with her other hand. "Now go on and brag to the boys that you broke Miss King in interrogation," she teased.

Frank thought that using 'broke' would be a loose interpretation of events, although she had talked, and they had something that they could use. "Prestige and information for Dumbledore. It has been an eventful day."

Alice stood on tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss. "We'll celebrate when we find the time," she said, ironically - free time barely existed on an Auror's schedule, especially those involved with the Order of the Phoenix. "And I suppose my desk is piled to the ceiling after all this time's passed."

"I'll see you at home, then," he said, giving her a quirky smile. "But first I'm going to brag and talk to higher ups. Not at the same time and not necessarily in that order."

"Sounds fun." She returned the smile. "I'll see you tonight, then, love you." After a last kiss, she shot a dirty look at a fellow Auror who whistled, and bustled off.

Frank's cheeks flushed, and he said to the Auror, "Nothing to look at here. Work to do," he said, following Alice's path to the end of the hall, and right to the office of the head of the Aurors.