Fathers and Sons

Fathers and Sons

Chapter 15: Escape Route

The Den was much simpler in concept than in practice. It was all a matter of providing help to those who would seek it, for those who were not getting it from anywhere else. It became a life's work. Owen Curenton, Pack: The Sociology of the Werewolf Pack, 1^st edition, 1976.

June 1980

Of all packs to study, Fenrir's pack was the most difficult and the most intensely rhetorically charged one of them all. Jeremy Curenton had a thousand and one reasons to study the Greyback pack... vengeance being the foremost, naturally, but Fenrir made everything that was most essentially pack come to its fullest, most extreme potential under his leadership, and that was worth a good look.

Jeremy's biggest question remained unanswered so long now that he began to wonder if he was asking the wrong question. Who was Fenrir's heir? He certainly knew Fenrir's first victim by now; the girl, Laurel, watched his every move in the house and made her presence abundantly known to him. No matter what she did, it didn't matter. Even if she was male and could inherit, she was still unnamed. She wasn't the heir.

That scary son of a bitch Wesley wasn't the heir. For all of the hero worship of Fenrir, the wholesale adoption of his Father's teachings, it was common knowledge that the greatest fighter of the Pack was definitely not Fenrir's heir.

So who was?

With the exception of the full moon, the upper floor was barred to unnameds except for Laurel. Forbidden naturally meant something to hide, and Jeremy could not make himself help but break rules like "Do Not Enter," so the resulting situation was inevitable. He went upstairs.

It wasn't so difficult. The Greyback pack relied on strict obedience and fear of punishment to keep people in line, and never seemed to consider that someone would disobey and wander upstairs. He opened the first door he found, knowing none of the high-ranking pack that he knew of would be around; he'd already seen them downstairs. Whatever secrets they were hiding, Jeremy would find them and then run like hell.

To his disappointment, it was just a bedroom with a mattress and a blanket. Jeremy sighed and closed the door behind himself, lighting his wand and looking for some sort of indication of whose room it could be (maybe Alecto's, but he doubted it). He knelt and looked at the head of the mattress to see if there were any hairs, any tell-tale signs of who slept here, but that too gave nothing away.

There were footsteps up the stairs. Jeremy leapt to his feet, immediately ducked into the closet in the corner, and shut the door. The door opened and he pressed himself to the wall as though in hopes of vanishing through it.

The closet door slammed open and he stared in surprise that someone would check there that quickly. Laurel stared back at him, her gaze and hands cold as she hauled him out. "I heard you," she hissed. "I heard you coming up here. Carrow was right, you're a sneak and a risk, and all I have to do is -- "

Letting her get momentum would be letting her get the upper hand. "Do they even listen to you?" he interrupted.

She slapped him across the face. "How dare you question me? I am Fenrir's most loyal wolf -- "

It hurt, but he took a quick breath. "But you don't rank. At all. You only rank because you fuck him. You're not even his real first."

Laurel shoved him against the wall, hard, the front of his robes fisted in her hand. "His first is a useless wizard," she snarled, and to his surprise, there were tears choking her growl.

A wizard. A wizard? Another one? Even in his shock he wasn't stupid enough to show that he'd picked up on it. "Let me go. I didn't see anything," he said with his best faked look of fear.

"And you won't." Laurel left the room, her shoulders shaking once in a sob before straightening in complete stoicism.

Remus jumped out of Laurel's way in the hallway. Normally, such behaviour received him odd looks -- he was the heir to this empire Fenrir was building with bloodshed and fear, why should he do any such thing? -- but she passed by him this time, seeming completely heedless that he was even there. Puzzled but not completely ungrateful at being ignored this time, he curiously looked around the corner from where she had come, in his room. He didn't know what he'd been expecting, but he hadn't been expecting to see Jeremy Curenton standing there. "You shouldn't be up here," he said, a little bit stupidly, but what else was there to say?

Jeremy prided himself on being very rarely surprised, since almost everything in the world was self-evident if you recognised the details and did the maths. But this was something he could never predicted in his life.

Maybe he was imagining things. Yes, he was years removed from Hogwarts, he had already forgotten the names and details of many of his classmates. But the odds that it just so happened that a wizard was Fenrir's first, and a wizard named Remus -- named Remus, how could he not have figured this out earlier? -- showed up right here right now were very, very low.

"Remus Lupin," he said, nothing less than completely dazed. "Remus -- that's what he named you, isn't it?" He raked his hand through his hair, caught his breath. "I have to say you were the last person I expected."

"Considering the sort of trouble that went into getting me to the school, I suppose I should consider that a good thing," he said dryly. "But you got it in one."

Jeremy had to close his eyes and focus on his breathing to slow the rush of thoughts. "You're his first. You're Fenrir's heir." He held off the anger at the werewolf who had N.E.W.T.s and didn't use them for the sake of his own kind, at the werewolf who was allowed to go on in school when Jeremy was simply expelled. It wouldn't be productive. He had plans and they were necessary. "Are you a Death Eater?" he asked of Remus casually.

There was no way of knowing how this conversation was going to progress or end, so Remus stepped into the room and perhaps against his better judgment, locked the door and did his best to sound proof it. "Considering what is going on in this house, I suppose you have been given every reason to think that I am, but I am not." The idea made him nearly ill; for all the good he was being to the Order, he may as well have been.

This was beyond surreal. "Then why are you here?" Jeremy demanded, his voice louder than he'd usually dare; he forced the volume down as he went on. "Why would you come to this? You had everything, you probably had some fucking posh job and friends and family and no one knew about you, why would you come here?"

Remus was flushing red, could practically feel the heat emanating from his face, and the wolf was becoming surly, again. It disliked being yelled at, and to take it from an unnamed with no pack tie was just humiliating. "Please don't assume that you know -- " he started flatly, and cut himself off. "I worked in a bookshop in Cardiff until I was fired and the owner thought he was being incredibly generous because he did it quietly. I have a father who lied to me, a mother who knew as much as I did, and friends are not something I'm particularly rich in at the moment."

It was only at that point that he realised he wasn't in control at all and that the wolf had gained the upper hand without him even noticing. He didn't have time for this. "I'm not about to pity you," Jeremy spat. "So don't even try. I have no tie here, no name, all I have is that I'm going to destroy Fenrir. Are you going to help me?"

For a minute Remus was completely dumbfounded that even such a thing might be possible. He'd wracked his brain, in as much as it could stand to be wracked after being constantly attacked with all of the wolf's stimulus and demands and being overwrought. Don't even think it. That's your Father. He ignored it. "Can you even..." He let the hopeless question hang unfinished in the air between them.

Controlling himself calmed the wolf and only then could Jeremy comfortably breathe. He would never understand how some werewolves managed to live with the wolf stifling them like that. "I can and I will," he said. "Or are you too busy cosying up with Death Eaters and the butcher Wesley? And you said you didn't have any friends."

Remus chortled. Not because of anything he'd said, none of which was particularly funny, but something about Jeremy that put him in mind of James and Sirius. The single-mindedness, the sheer stubbornness of it all. Given their attitudes at that Order meeting so long ago when he himself had planted the seeds of mistrust, he suspected that they would have been on board faster than you could say 'I'm in.' "Failure is not an option, I take it," he said quietly, ignoring the wolf's demands to be heard, fearful and tormented by its human's actions.

Avoidant bugger, wasn't he. Well, Jeremy would get him to talk. This was his in to the upper ranks, if he could trust his gut on this. "To take failure into consideration, to make it even part of your mindset, will guarantee that you'll fail. So are you with him or aren't you? This is a yes or no question."

Of course failure wasn't an option, why had he even asked. There was no other reply to give now. "Of course I'm not," he said. Nobody in their right mind could possibly be, but then again, there were days when Remus seriously considered whether he was in his right mind. He crossed his arms across his chest and eyed Jeremy. "What are you planning?" If he wasn't going to be of direct use to the Order, he could at least do something indirectly.

Jeremy took a seat on the floor and withdrew both his wand and a scrap of parchment; when he tapped the parchment, it transfigured back into the scroll that was now so incredibly vital to him and his plans. He rolled it out and glanced back at Remus. "Fenrir has a plan. That much is obvious. He wants to unify all packs under him. I think I've figured out his plan, and it's all tied into the lines of patriarchy." He traced with his finger the lines that were now remarkably more fleshed out than before he'd entered the pack. "I have my allies in the pack already. I know some of what happens on this floor, but my knowledge is limited. If you tell me what you know, and continue to, I can speed up the process of ending this."

Remus knelt to read some of the parchment, scanning it and letting the names permeate his brain. He recognised many, but many more eluded him. "You've been busy," he remarked, not out of avoidance but truly impressed. He sat back on his heels. "I'll tell you what I know, fill in what blanks I can." His fingernails dug into the palm of his hand, distracting himself physically from the frenzy that the wolf wanted to break into but he would not allow.

Jeremy caught the attempt at distraction and then a flash of the wolf in Remus's eyes. This was going to be difficult. Pack, of course. "I need to know the weaknesses," he said, not pressing Remus nearly as hard this time. "I need to know what to exploit. And then I can tell you what to exploit when you're in with them. Who disagrees, who argues what points, is there any argument at all or is it generally what Fenrir says goes?" This was a dream. It could have been someone like Wesley, it could've been someone like Laurel or even someone like Alecto, but instead it was a natural ally. Excellent. Bits of a plan began to coalesce in his head before Remus even said a word and he flipped the parchment over, taking notes in a tight, condensed handwriting.

"Wesley's always looking for a fight," Remus put in dryly, "but I suspect that won't surprise you at all. Fenrir always sends Conor first before anything on the off chance that anyone's going to lay down and surrender. Alecto and Laurel argue and if they're not arguing they have to make sure that the barely restrained contempt is completely clear. Alecto's brother Amycus brings other Death Eaters as they are needed against the packs, leaving the attacked pack no chance, but since you came with Skoll's people I suppose you know that much." And he did his best to stay out of it as much as possible. He rested a chin on his knee. "I'm not sure what you know," he finally said.

He'd concluded some of those points but it was always good to have affirmation, and he absorbed those, scribbling down more of the details. It wasn't much, what Remus had told him, but it was enough that Jeremy felt he could trust him. "I know about the lower levels. I know who's unhappy with their situations, I know who's willing to do something about fixing their situations. I know that Fenrir's trying to go after packs in descending order of the patriarchy." He flipped the parchment over to reveal the family tree again. "They're going after Aaron tonight," he said, pointing at the Irish branches, "and they'll hit Caleb right after." His finger slid down the family tree to the information on Caleb's pack.

"Next I think they'll go after Hati who's loosely connected, which should be a challenge. She has wands to protect her, and she'll know about the unified pack rising. She'll be prepared." Jeremy shook his head. "But you're asking what I know, not what I guess. What I know is the packs, relation, and I know that there's one way to take Fenrir's feet out from under him. Take away his unnameds."

"Her name was thrown around," Remus said idly as he absorbed Jeremy's words. Without the unnameds... the pack would be decimated, although in a very different sense. Their lack of status left them powerless in pack affairs and adrift in the tempestuous environment, but there were more of them than there were nameds. So many more. "It would be... god," he breathed, his mind wrapping around it.

"And there's nothing stopping it," Jeremy said with a faint smile. "No blood tie. There's no way we can be controlled. The only thing controlling us or keeping us here at the very least is fear and brainwashed obedience. They can be broken of that." He leaned back, stretched his legs out. "What I need from you is to keep Fenrir's eye off of anything that might be going on internally. Keep their eyes on the war itself. You're the heir; they'll listen to you. Hell, take control of watching the Pack -- they'll think you're taking a leadership role, and it'll throw suspicion off of both you and me."

Remus was not sure that undoing something that could certainly be termed 'brainwashing' would be quite that easy but now, all things were possible. He simply nodded at that, he would try, and he could succeed. With a direction that he could justify to himself, maybe things could at least start working better. "This will work," he said, unsure of whether he was merely commenting or trying to convince himself.

Jeremy grabbed at his shoulder and gave it a fraternal sort of squeeze. "Yeah. It'll work. You're keeping us safe," he emphasized. "This is very important, mate, we need you. So just... do your thing, talk to Fenrir or whatever, tell him you want to take over internal pack shite. He'll love that, I wager." He rolled up his parchment, retransfigured it, and pocketed it. "Oh, and two days from now, tell ... tell Carrow that I spoke against Fenrir to the unnameds. Something minor, but you're concerned."

Remus wondered if he should even bother to ask why, since they both knew perfectly well how that would end, but decided that it didn't really matter. "I will," he said, and added dryly, "Brace yourself, what comes out of that will not be pleasant in the least."

Jeremy shrugged and pushed himself to his feet. "Whatever he does, it can't be the worst thing that can happen, right? No point in killing an unnamed just because they said something stupid, that's typical behaviour." He returned his wand to his pocket, and sauntered to the door.

Just as he put his hand on the doorknob, there was a resounding set of knocks that sent him withdrawing three steps back. "Remus," Wesley said from the other side of the door, as reasonably as anything. "We need you downstairs."

Of course, if they were discovered, there might be no reason for Remus to say anything two days from now. He indicated to Jeremy to move aside, behind where the door would open, hopefully keeping him out of sight. No time like the present to start this business. He steeled himself to open the door and for whatever would come after he did and went down those stairs. "I'm coming," he called back, waiting to see what Wesley would do in response.

Jeremy withdrew towards the closet again, eyes on the door with every step backward. Several long seconds passed with no response from Wesley, but he finally spoke. "It's important. Fenrir wants you downstairs," he said, unspoken suspicion undoubtedly tingeing his voice.

Remus exchanged a significant glance with Jeremy. He couldn't believe that he would be dense enough to not wait before returning downstairs, but then again, this was the man who was determined to take Fenrir down. He fed the wolf his ever growing nerves as he'd found he could do, and opened the door, coming face to face with Wesley. "All right," he replied.

As ever Wesley didn't question him, but gave a short nod and returned downstairs to report to Fenrir. Once Jeremy was absolutely certain that Wesley was gone, he managed to breathe. "Thank you," he said. Remus was either an amazing actor or likely the only person he could fully trust in this whole bloody building. "Go on."

Remus nodded, not wanting to stick around too much longer. "Just stay for a bit. Downstairs'll be too tied up to notice anyone coming down," he said, and left the room, shutting the door behind him. The anxiety he'd let the wolf handle was being given back to him, dulled as if a memory, and he was put back on edge. Before he could give himself a chance to reconsider what he'd agreed to and what that meant doing, he plunged down the stairs.

~*~

July 1980

Alice's last day at work before entering forced maternity leave was the fifteenth of July, and she was not happy about it. The sixteenth was a miserable day spent mostly laying on the sofa with parchment doing as much work as she could at home with only her memory to serve her. By the seventeenth, she had no choice but to really do something. She might have been an expecting mother, but she was also an Auror, and a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and neither was inclined to lie around on bed rest. One worry, at least, could be solved without Ministry resources, and she had every intention of doing what she could.

She knocked on the door of the Potter house in Godric's Hollow, shifting on her sore feet and hoping -- for once -- that James or even Sirius was around to answer the door and spare Lily the trouble of standing.

Lily would have liked that too, but of course they weren't. She settled on the couch in the sitting room with the newspaper, looking for something that was worth her time reading when she heard the knock on the door. She sighed a little and spoke to her stomach, "Okay, baby, get ready to move." The baby moved, and she felt sure it was a reaction to her voice. "No fair, you moved first," she added, and with effort that would have wiped out a lesser woman, sat up and stood, making her way to the door.

She looked through the peephole in the front door, and saw Alice. All the same, she took out her wand and asked, "Password?" There had been some very close calls, and she and James were not taking any chances.

"Some are dead and some are living," Alice said in a bit of a weary sing-song, repeating the lyric of the song she had only heard once, when Emmeline had brought her record player over to the Longbottom house. She peered through the window. "I'm sorry to make you get up."

"It's all right, no trouble," Lily said, grimacing as the heat from outside hit her through the open door. She looked at her friend, and grinned wryly. "Still not a mummy?"

"Still." Alice grinned back and lumbered inside, feeling at least slightly less like a whale at the sight of Lily. "I love my little boy, I do, I only wish he'd hurry along. How are you then?"

"Practising for when this one is a teenager with James and Sirius," Lily joked back, shutting the door behind Alice. "Would you like some tea? I don't think it's warm enough outside to merit foregoing tea, but..."

Alice didn't hesitate to continue towards the kitchen, because at her size, once you gained momentum, you didn't waste it. "I would love a cuppa, summer, winter or spring," she said with a smile.

"Excellent!" she said, following her along to the kitchen. "Go ahead and have a seat -- you know what, I'm just going to do the same. At this point, I don't stand unless I have to." As she said, she took a seat at the kitchen table and began Summoning, filling, and arranging things for tea with her wand.

"Neither do I," Alice laughed, sitting and resting her hands on her stomach. "Well... I move more than I should, if you ask Frank or my mediwitch, but I don't know how they expect me to sit still." She appraised Lily, and did her best to look thoughtful, not worried.

"I know, I love being able to rest and everything but -- oh, James can be absolutely ridiculous you know, like the littlest thing is going to send me into labour. Although at this point, that might be a blessing," she said as the mugs of hot water, canister of tea leaves, and sugar bowl landed neatly in the middle of the table.

"If we've not gone into labour over any number of the big stressors in the world, I don't think a bit of spilt cream or a few minutes of political conversation are going to make my water break," Alice said, biding her time and calmly beginning to make her tea.

"You realize if it does, I will have to laugh at you... basically for the rest of your natural life," Lily grinned.

Alice grinned for a moment but then looked thoughtful. "Oh, this might need testing. I'll debate the Statute of Secrecy with Frank later."

Lily laughed. "Oh, pity I won't be there to see it. How is dear old dad to be?"

"Oh, he's holding up quite well, if a bit more of a nervous wreck each day he finds his pregnant wife ordered to be on bedrest neither resting nor in bed. Men," she concluded, and sipped her tea. "But he's Frank. He'll always fuss."

She considered it, and then nodded. "True. If he didn't, we would worry."

"And if James wasn't falling over himself to do what he thought was best for you," Alice added, "we would worry."

"Well. That's also true," she agreed with an affectionate roll of her eyes. She took a long drink of her tea and let it burn its way down her throat. "Silly boy that he is, sometimes."

"Yes, yes." She considered her cup for a moment and went on, "Last meeting was, erm, interesting, didn't you think?"

Lily didn't answer right away, although she had the feeling that Alice wasn't talking about Mundungus and Benjy's report on who was using what means to move what through Knockurn. "It was," she said carefully. "Edgar Bones mentioned that Remus had... been ill."

No one could ever accuse Lily Potter of being anything but the sharpest knife in the drawer, and just as dangerous. "Frank and I... we've been trying so hard to help the werewolves how little we can from our place in Law Enforcement." Alice stirred her tea absently. "He's been avoiding us. We had to talk to him."

"Well. It's not just you he's avoided," she answered, tapping her fingers against the side of her mug. "He's been withdrawn since we left school, and it's only gotten worse since then. James and I have done everything we can, I'm afraid it's only purchased more worry." She glanced up at Alice. "Not to say that what you and Frank are trying to do isn't right, because if he knows something he should say it. I worry very much about him, is all."

"You should," Alice said, to the point, watching Lily with both the eye of an Auror and that of a friend. "You should worry. We interrogated him and his heartrate rose to the point where he couldn't properly speak. He said he couldn't tell us. Not that he wouldn't, but that he couldn't. He's afraid of something, almost fatally so."

To say Remus's silence didn't worry Lily would be a lie, because it did. He'd never been one to say more than totally necessary, but there was a difference between being quiet because of your personality and being quiet because something was keeping you quiet. "He's always been quiet, that's nothing new -- I mean, I knew that even before I knew... of course, I can't really blame him, wizards treat werewolves dreadfully. But it's been... more, lately."

Alice sighed and looked at the table. "That's true, very true." No one had spoken aloud the suspicions that the whole Order seemed to have, not until now, if she could find the courage to say such a thing to one of Remus's best friends. I think your friend might be a spy from the Death Eaters just didn't roll off of the tongue so smoothly. "Lily, may I be frank?" she began.

"You'll have to take it up with your husband, see if he's like to be Alice," Lily replied dryly. There was a dead silence, but she hadn't expected that joke to fly well given the tone of Alice's voice. "I'm listening, Alice," she said instead.

Alice tried to smile, but the corners of her mouth turned up for only a moment before falling again. She spoke decisively, seriously. "Do you believe it is... possible," she said, then pausing to frame the last half of her question, "that Remus might be with them instead of with us?"

Had James or Sirius brought it up, Lily would have immediately said no and asked them if they were daft. But she didn't answer Alice so quickly. Alice made it sound frighteningly reasonable, because she was a frighteningly reasonable person. He was among them, the opportunity was more than present. But he was Remus. Still, nobody could be discounted for what they appeared to be, that much had been proven in recent years. "I -- I don't.... no, of course not," she said firmly, but there was a note of uncertainty belying her tone.

"You know I don't want him to be. I'm not the sort who looks in every corner for villains or spies in my life, you know me, Lily." Alice knew how this sounded, and hated the idea that she was about to suggest that a werewolf was a Dark creature siding with Dark wizards. She might as well just quote from one of the Ministry's numerous smug Daily Prophet articles on the topic, at this rate. This was different, though, it had to be. "But his behaviour and his supposed inability to tell us about seeing Death Eaters at work every day -- it makes me wonder."

Lily set her jaw, and nodded. Alice was right, but she still refused to believe that Remus of all people would have even considered it, let alone done it. She sipped her tea again while she tried to sort it out in her head. "So if he literally can't speak about it and it causes him pain to even attempt to do so," she started slowly, "it might be that he's not doing it of his own free will. But they want the in so they need to control him."

Alice could not have been more relieved at Lily's logic, which had led them further than any of their previous ideas had taken them. This did make a lot of sense. "It's not Imperius. At least, I don't believe so. Imperius is too all-encompassing, and he seems quite capable of speaking about anything besides Fenrir Greyback and the Death Eaters working with the werewolves. Perhaps it's ... " she hesitated. "Something among the werewolves, something we can't understand. Or Dark Arts. We'll have Elphias look him over at the next meeting."

She gave a short nod. Magic was like a science in its own way, there was much they didn't know about and a lot of rules and laws that governed it. "That's soon," she nodded again. "Have you talked to Dumbledore about this?" Although if Lily knew anything about Dumbledore, he probably already had an inkling.

Alice nodded and sipped her tea to stall. "Dumbledore said we should trust him." She looked into her tea, as her guilty look was as good as admitting how pointedly she had broken this guideline. "That until there was severe, undeniable proof, we must consider the few friends we have as friends. After all -- suspicions will only tear us apart, and we are stronger united than divided." She raised her eyes and smiled wryly. "Trust your friends more than you mistrust your enemies, simply."

"That sounds like Dumbledore," she said, considerably lighter than before. He was right, of course; if suspicions began to grow and were allowed to flourish, soon accusations would fly, and they would surely be torn apart. "We must watch him, though," she said, contemplating her tea. "Even if he is spying, he does not seem well." And it did her no good to see one of her oldest friends suffer so.

"I know," Alice said, her voice hollow. She had if anything made things worse. She could have been more patient, dealt with him more delicately: Frank followed her lead, and she had pressed on too hard. She had to presume his innocence despite her strong instinct. "I know this is hardly the time, but it will never be a good time, Lily, I ... I trust you can handle this. You know Remus better than any of us."

Lily just nodded, finishing her tea. If 'handle' meant 'obsess over', then yes, she was going to probably handle it the best of any of them. "I'll... get him after the meeting, see if he'll talk to me. This is being kept quiet, I presume?" The Order wasn't so large and its members so dull-witted that this wasn't going to catch on without any of them having to say a single word, but it would perhaps be best to ask Alice.

"As it best it can," Alice echoed with a sigh. "The others have already noticed, due to the... disturbance, but we'll do our best to keep it quiet, unless it goes too far. I trust you won't let that happen, L -- " she was cut off by the bang of the front door being flung open violently, and Alice immediately raised her wand to defend against the intruder -- that was, until she heard a shout of "SURRENDER, MONSIEUR PADFOOT, YOU MISERABLE SON OF A SLYTHERIN!"

"NOT UNTIL YOU PUT YOURS DOWN, YOU MANGY GIT," returned another voice.

Lily sighed, partly out of relief and partly out of exasperation. "My boys are home," she said, somewhat wearily and quite needlessly.

Alice lowered her wand and said, "If that didn't send me into labour, nothing will."

"Well, let's hope something does," Lily said and with a bit of effort stood to meet them, but didn't have the chance.

Running footsteps quickly approached the kitchen and Sirius slid in. He immediately ducked behind Lily, brandishing a water pistol like it was life or death. "Hey, how's it going?" he asked casually, as if there were absolutely nothing absurd or odd about his entrance.

"Not in the house, I told you last -- " She stopped as a stream of water hit her in the ear. "JAMES."

"Oh shit -- " James hid the water pistol behind his back as though that would absolve him of blame, and wiped his water-logged glasses with the sleeve of his free arm. "Hi Lily. Alice."

"Hi," Lily said flatly. "James, do you remember what we decided about the water pistols or not?"

"Ooh, Prongs in trouble -- " One Look from Lily was enough to silence Sirius, who looked at the kitchen floor and scratched behind one ear with the nozzle of his water pistol.

James pulled a face at Sirius but stopped the instant he felt the Look, and stated judiciously, "To be fair, it was self-defence. He started it."

"Traitor," Sirius shot back.

Lily involuntarily flinched at the word, casually thrown about. If they'd known what she and Alice had been talking about, she somehow doubted that it would be so easily uttered and thrown away. "Just take it outside, right?" she said tersely.

James sent her a wary look and could feel the weight of Alice's glare on him as well, but dismissed it with a shrug as the result of pregnancy hormones. "Sorry," he said brightly, then turned to Sirius, squirting him once in the face before sniggering and bolting outside.

Sirius sputtered for a moment. "Um. Ta, ladies!" he nodded to Lily and Alice before chasing after James in the direction he'd come.

In a matter of seconds, Lily heard them both in the backyard and looked out the window in time to see one of them fall over the garden wall. "I don't know what I'm going to do with them," she announced with a shake of her head.

Alice smiled wryly. "Look at it this way," she said, setting her tea aside. "You'll be well-prepared for a small child."

"Truer words have never been spoken," she agreed, leaving her mug in the sink before taking her seat at the kitchen table again.

~*~

At the end of the second Order meeting a few days after her tea with Alice, Lily raced after Remus as he made a beeline for the door. It wasn't exactly the easiest thing in the world, two weeks away from her due date, but she did all right. His distraction over the course of the entire meeting didn't really seem like the behaviour of a dangerous spy, but she tried to remain skeptical lest she be totally wrong about Remus. Then again, the look in his eyes when she grabbed his elbow showed her hardly anything but danger. There was alarm and something very cold underneath a look that was so purely Remus that Lily couldn't tag it with any kind of emotion. The look was there in that instant and gone in the next, replaced by his tired but pleasant smile. "Lily."

God, how could they think that this man, their friend was spying? "Remus," she replied, a smile immediately spreading across her lips, and she remembered why she had snagged him after the meeting in the first place. "Look, I feel terrible that we haven't really talked -" since we left school, "in awhile. I want you to come have lunch with me this week."

Remus looked like he wanted to protest for a moment, his mouth opening and then closing. "I don't know if that's..."

"Such a good idea? Please," she interrupted, her mouth setting into a hard line. "You are my friend, I am inviting you to come. And I would really like you to," she added in a softer tone. Her hands rested in their new usual place bracing her lower back while he stared back. "Don't make me beg."

"Since when does Lily Potter beg for anything?" he asked back teasingly.

"Since a friend won't come and visit a lonely pregnant lady," she answered. "Please."

He hesitated again and for a moment, Lily honestly thought that the answer was going to be no. "Friday. I'll be there midday, if I can get away."

Get away. Lily wasn't sure that they wanted to know what was going on at the pack where Remus stayed. She hated to think of him there as it was, especially if he really was spying. "Okay," she nodded, and relinquished her hold on his arm. Today was Sunday, Friday would come eventually.

"Okay," he echoed with a faint smile. "Good night, Lily."

"Good night, Remus," she waved with one hand and watched him descend the steps of the veranda and go into the damp night.

And so Friday had come. Lily's natural state was never nervous. In fact, being nervous made her nervous. There was really no reason to be so, because it was just Remus. Even so, nerves were an improvement over the worry that had plagued her. Her worry didn't only annoy her, but James as well - and he didn't want to hear any of it, but insisted that worry was not healthy for the baby. The Healer agreed, and emphasized every time she had a check up to avoid stress. James was also unlikely to shut up as long as he knew the Healer agreed with him, and stress was going to be part of her life as long as there was the Order.

But still. She was doing what she could, and that made her feel a little better.

Lily chewed on a hangnail that she'd managed to give herself in the last five days as she looked out of the bay window in the front room that overlooked the yard. She tried to convince herself that she would feel better when Remus was there, but then what? What answers would she find? She wished she knew, because then she could prepare herself properly.

Not long after noon, Lily saw a figure approaching the house from the far off Apparation point. It had to be Remus. She kept calm, until there was his knock on the door. "Hello, password?" she asked impatiently, but knew she should do so.

"Some and dead and some are living," Remus said, a touch darkly. The door flew open and before a hello so much as crossed either of their lips, Lily had her arms around him tightly. He was far too surprised to say anything, and far too grateful for the contact to pull back.

He carefully raised his arms around her back, and held her there for a moment - awkwardly due to her nine months pregnant belly. There was such disgust from the wolf at that moment combined with a very rare fascination that he was almost doubly surprised by it. The wolf was very much aware of the baby growing inside Lily, almost to the point of hypersensitivity, and in a very arrogant, almost condescending sort of way was interested in the idea of a Remus's reverence for this woman as a lifegiver. "You look very well," he told her quietly.

"I'm fat, Remus, have you actually looked at me lately?" she joked, pulling back to look at Remus. She really wished that she could honestly reply in kind, but it would have been a lie and they both knew that. She could see that an effort had been made as far as looking presentable and well, as it ever was but never seemed to be enough. There was no five o'clock shadow on his jaw, and his hair was combed, but he still looked exhausted and burdened. "You need a haircut," she settled on again, tugging on the ends that reached his collar once she was satisfied that nothing was physically wrong with him. "Very fashionable, though."

"It's a child, and you both seem very healthy indeed," he insisted, feeling more at ease than he had in months. Something else occurred to him. "You must be due very soon."

"First of August," she smiled, and pulled him inside, shutting the door. "Unfortunately I'm still not much of a cook. It's tea and sandwiches, unless you want something else to drink..."

He hadn't had bread in a very long time - let alone meat that had actually been cooked. The idea made the wolf queasy; feeling that separate nausea was an awkward thing. "It sounds lovely," he said, letting her lead him back to the kitchen excitedly.

There was a lot of strained small talk at first, but they eventually relaxed slightly. It was easily the best time that Remus had had in a long while. He forgot about those who had died because of the actions he had agreed to take in order to help Curenton, about Fenrir's plots, and Wesley's snarling face. More to the point, he'd forgotten about the disappointment at being unable to help the Order and lack of trust he had inspired in his friends. Even so, it all came back every time there was a lull in their conversation and Lily got that hesitant look in her eyes that showed what questions she really wanted to ask; the ones Remus was dreading. He realized that he missed - missed? Not missed. That he was now more used to a conversation where he was able to feel out the emotional state of the person by seeking their wolf.

The looking at her hands was a real tell that she was about to say something she really didn't want to say; she was a smart, confident woman who hardly ever looked down, even in contemplation. He decided that it would be best for him to address this first. "If you don't ask me any questions, then I won't have to lie," he said, speaking lightly.

"I don't want you to lie," she answered immediately, "but... Remus, please. I'm not going to ask something you can't answer. I don't want... I won't ask where, I know that hasn't worked. But why can't you say?"

Remus felt like laughing and crying all at once. The wolf had waited quietly, observing, but now it sensed again the same danger it felt whenever he was away from the pack. He breathed slowly, trying to control it and appease it with the thought that they wouldn't be under that kind of scrutiny again, not in Lily's kitchen. "There is no answer for that question that doesn't make me sound completely mad," he finally said.

"You'd have a long way to go to be the most insane person I know; remember, I'm married to James," she put in, and remembered details that she and Alice had discussed. "You said you can't."

"I know it all sounds absolutely crazy, but I swear it's the truth," he added quickly, barely a second after she finished speaking. One foot was tapping restlessly, a mannerism that he had developed as of late. "No matter what the Longbottoms or anyone else think, trust me, it is definitely a matter of 'cannot' rather than 'will not.'"

"I believe you," she told him, trying not to seem worried. The last thing she wanted was to provoke another spell like he had after the Order meeting, whatever had caused that. Because she would have insisted on St. Mungo's, and wouldn't have they made an interesting pair Flooing in. "I do believe you, Remus, we just... we just want to understand why you can't say something."

"That's the crazy part," he said in a partial deadpan. "It -- " The words it won't let me stuck in his throat.

"Are you cursed by the... who are they, the Carrows? We know there's at least a witch and the wizard involved. Have they Bound you somehow?"

At that he did laugh. Of all the wolves in that pack, he was least likely to be harmed save for Fenrir. He met Lily's confused glance. "It's nothing like that, at least not from the Death Eaters. I suppose you could say I'm bound."

"How?" she asked, becoming a bit impatient by her own nature, not anything Remus had said per se.

He was going to sound so mad. He was going to sound crazy, she was going to share the madness with everyone else - as she must, he didn't precisely blame her - and then whatever trust remained in his friends would dwindle further or even be gone altogether. He rested his head in his hands, letting the wolf shoulder its part of the stress and deaden it. It was certainly the least it could do. "It won't let me," he said, finally letting the words out.

The kitchen was very quiet as Lily tried to process that. "Remus, look at me," she finally said, very quietly. He lifted his head and waited. Her expression was mostly unreadable, she seemed to be thinking at a mile a minute. "What is the 'it?'"

He hesitated. How to explain the wolf? He had never had to explain something that had been so omnipresent in his life, it would be like trying to explain why he had ten fingers: it just was. It hadn't mattered to those who were ignorant, and those who knew and responded to it needed no explanation.

"Come here," he said. They readjusted themselves so they were directly across from one another, and he held her at arm's length by the shoulders, partly to keep her there and partly to steady himself. "Just... watch me," he breathed carefully. "Look me right in the eyes, keep them there, and just... hold on."

It was easy to goad the wolf into rising to the surface, it was always eager to be in control whenever he would let it. The same instant he stopped it in his consciousness, his fingers involuntarily tightened on Lily's shoulders and she gasped; perhaps out of the unexpected pressure, but Remus also saw the light of recognition of the unknown in her emerald eyes. The fact that there was an element of fear twisted his stomach only slightly, knowing that he should be more disappointed, but the wolf was too much in control. "What..." she finally stammered. There was no doubt that she had seen what he'd meant for her to see.

"That was my best shot at explaining it, so bear with me," he said. "We call it the wolf, it's - it's how werewolves recognize one another, and recognize their family. It's very powerful magic, and because of it I can't betray Fenrir. It interferes, and won't let me. When the Longbottoms were talking to me it... attacked. I was about to tell where he -- " He stopped and swallowed. He refused to acknowledge the familial title of Fenrir as his Father, not in this conversation. He dropped his hands from her shoulders. "I... I wish I could, but I can't."

She was silent for such a long time that he nearly stood up and let himself out, but the second he moved to push his chair back to its original placement he was forced to stop as she threw her arms around him like she had when she greeted him. He was stock-still, the wolf still so near the surface that he was afraid to touch her. The wolf's curiosity had long since passed, and she was now just a witch with a rather curious parasite inside her. She held on for a very long time, and he eventually lightly touched her shoulder, slightly dazed. "I'm sorry," she said. "I just worry about you so. And they're all worried as well, I know it. You have more friends than you know, Remus."

"But they don't trust me," he said flatly.

"They worry," she repeated. But the fact that she hadn't denied it didn't escape him.

~*~

October 1980

The payoff was here. Damocles knew that they had it the second their new test subject awoke after the last full moon, tired but otherwise none the worse for wear and eager to tell them everything. It was a bigger exhilaration than he'd expected, and now it was no longer a mere rumour, tales made up by colleagues and passed among the trainees. It was an honest to god reality, and their time to come out was at hand. The three of them -- Chambers, Natalie, and himself were meeting with Mary Brookstanton of The Daily Prophet in a conference room.

He was, of course, the last to arrive. "Sorry," he said quickly, sliding into the last empty chair. "Hello," he added.

Mary Brookstanton gave him a broad smile and leaned across the table to offer him her hand. "Hello, Healer Belby, I'm Mary Brookstanton, it's a pleasure to meet you and your illustrious team today. It's an honour. It must be a great feeling to have know you've helped the world in such a remarkable way."

"We've certainly done our best, thank you," he said, folding his hands on the table in front of him. "It's been an honour to be able to do so."

"I'm sure the Ministry and the rest of Britain will thank you as well, once the news gets out." Mary smiled at Damocles, then to the unsmiling Herbologist and the undoubtedly ecstatic youngest member of the team. "Speaking of, let's get to it. So what finally led you three to this project? Was there a particular catalyst?"

"I was approached by the Registry, who had in turn been in talks with the hospital to develop something that could have a controlling or neutralizing effect on werewolves during the full moon," Damocles started. "We determined that it was... attainable, and so I accepted and we started hiring the team," he finished, motioning to them.

Well. That was unsurprisingly clinical from a Healer of his standing, but Mary needed more than that. "I understand you have a relationship with werewolf rights activist Owen Curenton," she began. "Did the death of his daughter Erin and infection of his son Jeremy have anything to do with your accepting this case? Did your own politics, if I presume correctly that you agree with your friend of many years?"

He was going to be in a lot of trouble, with his superiors or Owen if he didn't phrase this correctly, and took a few extra seconds to say it right. "Owen and I have been friends for a very long time, that's true. His children had no bearing on my decision; he has his way of helping and I have mine."

Chambers stared at the reporter in vaguely disgusted disbelief. "That question was out of line. Absolutely out of line."

Natalie sat forward immediately to address the question and keep Chambers from going on. "It's a problem," she said. "The werewolves are quite clearly a problem, Miss Brookstanton, no one is denying that. But that was not the primary reason this potion project was pursued. We wanted to help the werewolf population of Britain contain themselves during the full moon, and therefore make themselves much more... available to employers and the regular wizarding population."

Mary's quill flew across the parchment. "Thank you, Miss Summers," she said, "and I appreciate your candor. Healer Belby, do you have anything to add?"

Damocles honestly could have kissed Natalie right at that moment -- not that that wouldn't have been highly inappropriate, she was easily half his age. He tried to keep the grin off his face, but the corners of his mouth quirked upwards. "I think that Miss Summers has said it all, and quite eloquently."

"Thank you, Damocles." Natalie spoke quietly and sat back, hiding her own satisfied smile and ignoring the look of disbelief Chambers had fixed on her.

"I know you've worked very hard on this project to perfect it. Now, in plain English," Mary added with a hint of a joke, "what are the properties of this potion? What can we expect to see from the werewolves who take it?"

"Well, simply - and trust us, it is a lot more complicated than this is going to make it sound -- it is a compound of concentrated wolfsbane with other various ingredients to neutralize its effects on humans. It's designed to curb the most violent instincts of the wolf, making it safer and hopefully easier for them to be integrated into the wizarding community," he said.

"Curbing the violent instincts of the wolf during the transformation and otherwise?" She tapped her quill on the page. "Has the Ministry informed you about how this potion will be used, if it will be made a requirement for werewolves to take, anything like that?"

"The policy is not our job, but we are reasonably confident that the Ministry knows that this potion is not something that should be handled lightly," he answered. "Although I believe that the idea was for it to be widely distributed with the aforementioned intentions."

Mary frowned and looked over her notes. "What do you mean by 'handled lightly'?"

Natalie cleared her throat. "If I may," she said. "Wolfsbane isn't an ingredient that should be taken lightly. Enough of it can easily kill a non-werewolf, but it's accurately named, and can really harm a werewolf if it's taken at inappropriate times, taken at an inappropriate dosage, or the potion's prepared incorrectly. This is a potion with one specific use, it's no Pepperup."

"That's very right," Damocles jumped in. "The production and distribution will have to be regulated very carefully. Done incorrectly, this potion can cause more harm than good and could even be lethal."

"As with just about any medical potion," Natalie added. "The point being, this is most certainly a fix for the werewolf community to ... to normalise and become part of wizarding society again, but it's not a quick fix."

Mary nodded and finished her notes on that tangent, looking at Damocles directly at her next question. "What are your opinions on the legislation prepared to be proposed about making it a criminal offence to be a werewolf who fails to take the Wolfsbane Potion?"

So it wasn't just a rumour, then. He'd hoped it was, but he was probably the only person who was in the least bit surprised by that. Matching Mary Brookstanton's eye contact, Damocles said, "From a medical standpoint it's absolutely reprehensible. You can't treat someone without their permission, especially for a potion as serious as this. If it were life or death is one thing, but doing that would be completely out of line."

She wrote furiously at that and formed a question in the same moment. "It could be argued, Healer Belby, that this is a matter of life or death to a countryside terrorised by werewolves. What do you think?"

Damocles was unsuccessful at holding back a chortle. "I think there are certainly people who are going to be making that argument. But you can't just dose a part of the population and expect it to solve all problems. This potion has been tested on a relatively small number of people, and there is obviously no telling about possible long-term effects."

Mary's eyebrows shot up and her quill rose from the parchment. "You're concerned about the long-term effects of the potion. Are you sure this potion is ready to be used, if it's so risky? Why wasn't there more testing?"

"I'd have to be incredibly unscrupulous to not be concerned. But that's how potion invention goes, it's impossible to see everything that may happen," he answered. "As for why there wasn't more testing, let us say that the Ministry is eager to see what kind of use they can put it to and required a finished project."

Natalie's jaw dropped a little at Damocles's last sentence, and didn't hesitate to immediately say anything at all to halt Mary's quill from copying that quote down exactly. "But prospects are bright," she said with her most charming smile. "We worked night and day and we have a potion that is very promising, and we're excited to see it at work."

"It has wonderful potential, of course," he added after a moment. He was getting the very distinct feeling that wasn't something he should have necessarily said, but it had been said. "We merely want it to be put to work in a responsible manner."

"Mm," Mary agreed, then scanned the three again with a smile that managed to mask her motives, if barely. "Anything to say, Mr Chambers?" She zeroed in on the only silent one.

Chambers returned an equally false smile. He had no interest in sharing his opinions about his work with a leech like this. "Not to you."

Damocles covered his laugh with a cough, and smiled pleasantly at Mary Brookstanton. "Well. Then I think perhaps we're done here," he said lightly.

"Yes, we are!" Mary stood and shook Natalie's hand, pretending like she didn't notice how Chambers's hands clenched together in his lap, and reached for Damocles's. "I'll be interviewing you at your Order of Merlin reception, I'm sure," she said.

"Don't put it on your calendar yet," he said, shaking her hand. "Good afternoon."

Mary left the conference room with just the same swagger that she'd entered with, unfazed by the apparent rejection and having a scroll with inches' worth of good quotes.

There was a tense silence as they heard the reporter's high heels click away on the floor, and once the sound faded away, Natalie slumped back in her chair and spoke. "Bollocks."

"That could have gone worse," Damocles said, remarkably calm. He ran a hand over his hair. "Except for the part where it really couldn't have."

"She baited you," Chambers said, openly irritated now. "We can't be blamed for that. And St. Mungo's PR can clear up any confusion, I'm sure."

"Bollocks," Natalie repeated, with feeling. "It doesn't matter, she's one of that sort, we could tell her four different things and she would say what she wanted to say. I can't wait for this article, to see just how our words are twisted."

"I was baited and I bit like a fish." Damocles rubbed his hands over his face. Oh, he was in a lot of trouble -- screwed, they would have to wait on and see. "Well," he said after a very long, silent moment. "Work."

"Work," Chambers said in definite agreement, and stood to leave and get back to some other, less controversial project. "We're burning daylight."

"It's what I do best," he said and pushed his chair back. Chambers left the room ahead of him and disappeared down the hall. He was at the door, but noticed Natalie had not moved a whit. "Are you coming?" he asked her.

Natalie looked at him sideways then just turned her head, still not moving from the chair. "I was so happy this morning," she said. "I was so excited, because it was over, and it was a new beginning, and we had really achieved something. I've never felt like that in my life. And now -- " she threw her hands in the air and pushed herself up out of the chair. "I'm coming."

"We did do something important. We've done something that was considered impossible for the longest time, and it's a very important tool to bringing werewolves back into the wizarding world instead of pushing them to the very fringes. Just as you said," he told her, and then sighed, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Of course, we have to trust that they're going to use it correctly, and that's the biggest 'if' of all that we've seen so far."

"I just hate the idea of this... this great humanitarian tool being turned into another battlefield for the rhetoricians." Natalie wrapped her arms around herself. "Nothing to be done. And we're doing all we can, even if the Ministry owns everything we do." She sent him a wry smile, toying with the cuff of her shirt. "You're going to be famous for this. Can you handle it?"

"Famous for biting the hand that feeds me," he said dryly with a half smile.

She openly smiled. "I meant the potion. You're the head of the team, it's yours."

"My name's going to be the one that everyone throws around, yeah. But we all did it," he said.

"We did." Natalie nodded and quickly turned to the door, heading out. "And now it's over."

He let her go ahead through the door, her quick steps taking her down the corridor. "Yes. Over," he echoed resolutely, following her from the conference room. Their job was finished, and now the policy and debate over the product could be left to others.

~*~

A secretary jumped out of Newt Scamander's way and into the wall as he nearly bypassed her office. He backtracked and pushed the door open with as much force as he could and remain professional. "Madam Umbridge," he prefaced before launching into, "I know that because you have risen a long way in a short time, you may feel entitled to speak for this Department, but since we have a press secretary and personnel who otherwise work very hard on it that YOU are putting out of a job, it's a damn shame that you can't seem to reign in your tongue as tightly as your -- "

Umbridge, smiling all the while, leaned forward in her chair. "Mr Scamander, sir, I would love to speak with you about this, have a seat! Would you like some tea?"

"I will not have a seat and I will not take any tea," he said, the subtext being 'and let's not pretend that we like each other.' If there was one thing that he could stand very little of, and that was sycophancy. Umbridge took up more than her share of the Department quota. "Let's just talk about this, employer to employee, and then we can get on with the rest of our... busy days," he finished, glancing at the tea service.

Umbridge closed the door with a flick of her wand. "Well! What is it you would like to speak about, specifically, sir?"

"I would like to know, Madam Umbridge, when 'Magical Creatures Department Press Secretary' was added to your job description, because I think I missed it," he said, patiently and calmly.

"I don't recall ever claiming ownership of the title, Mr Scamander," she replied, folding her hands and giving him a sweet smile.

"Then perhaps you could stop carrying out the duties of the office as though they were your own," he said, standing at what would to a normal person be considered a somewhat intimidating height, despite his age. "The press comes to you because they know that you will give them something, and then the Department usually has no choice in the matter. I am asking you to keep that instinct under control and ask them to direct their questions to my office or save it for the room."

"The press comes to me and I am obligated to say something, sir, unless your problem is with what I say instead of that I spoke at all?" she spoke delicately, taking a demure sip of tea.

"The problem is not necessarily what you say, disdainful speech that it is. Yes, the problem is that you speak when it is not your job to do so," he agreed.

Umbridge dabbed her upper lip with a napkin and lifted her head to look directly into her boss's eyes. "With all due respect, Mr Scamander, I don't believe you're telling the full truth. Were I repeating the stories that the public relations office chooses to release, there would be no problem. But I choose to tell the truth of what I see and hear, working with these creatures every day, and that is why you are here to denounce me." Her smile widened. "And I am so sorry it had to come to this."

"All due respect back, Madam Umbridge, but since you seem to be a semi-intelligent being, I am going to say this plainly, and I am going to say this once: you need to do your job, and you need to let the press secretary do theirs, period. You can't speak for the Department if that is not your job," he said.

Her corner of her mouth twitched, and she gently set her teacup down and stood, pushing her chair back. "I understand," she said with a nod and smile, "but if you would excuse me, sir?" She reached for the doorknob and added, "I've a meeting with Bartemius Crouch in ten minutes, you see."

"Oh are you really," slipped out before he could stop it, and he followed her out into the hallway. It probably looked undignified for the head of the Department to be trailing behind like a lackey, but this was important. "If I may ask, what is this meeting concerning the old... person." He could think of no word fit for mixed company that he currently had in his vocabulary for their esteemed head of Magical Law Enforcement.

Umbridge looked up, and up, at the esteemed head of her Department, and considered him thoughtfully. "I haven't the slightest idea, sir. I can only imagine it has to do with Fenrir Greyback, as you've heard him cite that as one of his concerns, I'm sure, but he set up an appointment with me through memo so I suppose we'll just see!"

"I see." Bartemius Crouch, leading the crusade against the werewolves because his crusade on Death Eaters was going badly. Promising the head of Fenrir Greyback on a spike because the Dark wizards were winning and there wasn't anything he had been able to do about it. "Be careful of what you say, then. I might be meeting with him myself sooner rather than later."

"Of course, sir. I really must be going, though," Umbridge said, utterly apologetic down to a slight frown. "If you'll excuse me? I'm sure you must have other, more important things to attend to."

He should have brought the cricket bat. "Good day," he said, and turned back around to his own office, leaving her to continue in the direction of the lifts.

~*~

November 1980

Jeremy Curenton had never been the toughest bloke in a kilometer radius, and when going against a bloke like Wesley, Prince of Darkness, professional arse-kicker and bloody-minded malice incarnate, he didn't actually have a fighting chance in hell. That, however, was not the point. His lip was still split and swollen, his nose broken, his ribs aching, but he didn't care. This was his second punishment, more severe, his last warning -- and now he could safely slip under the radar. It didn't make it any easier to move when he woke in the morning, though, and he desperately sought some sort of comfortable position on the hardwood floor.

Three hours passed, in which the other unnameds left him there, breakfast was prepared and eaten, and the room flooded with sunlight. He shaded his eyes as best he could and stared at the grain of the floor, letting his mind work. They could beat him half to death and he wouldn't care so long as he could think. He wasn't a dueling Auror or a Hit Wizard, he was just a bloke with knowledge and determination enough to bring down this ideal, and that couldn't be beaten out of him.

He hoped so, anyway.

A plan was developing in his mind's eye, and as the unnameds filtered back into the room, talking softly, he raised his eyes and then his head to consider his prospects. There were those who could be used, those who were useless, those who just needed a push and those who needed controlling. There were those who simply needed to leave so as to truly break from the pack system, and that was the worst group of all, because nothing could be done for them.

Jeremy felt as though Wesley's foot had found its way into his ribs again as the hard click of Alecto Carrow's brisk footsteps towards the room became audible, and a hush fell over the unnameds again. Much to his surprise, she was not headed past them, but to them, and she stared over the unnameds, who looked at her, uncomprehending.

"Give me Curenton," Alecto said in a clear demand, no question. "Show me the little upstart. I have something of interest to him."

"Here, Miss Carrow," a teen named Zachary volunteered, scrambling to his feet and pointing without hesitation to where Jeremy lay huddled. "Miss Carrow, he's, er, been there all day since you, er, since Wesley showed him what was what, Miss Carrow, he's -- "

"He's a dirty little bastard just like you, I know." Alecto spoke in her crispest tone, hardly about to waste her time listening to unnameds blather on trying to gain her respect. "Curenton." She flicked the newspaper in her hands and it gave a distinct snap. "Curenton. Son of a set of useless activists who never achieved a thing, am I right?"

Jeremy exhaled and forced himself to move, to clutch his ribs and sit up, to ignore the ache in his head. "My mother and father were activists, yes," he said, putting the words together slowly to make sure the sentence made perfect sense. "Useless ... that's a matter of opinion. As is achievement."

"Interesting words from a hopeful revolutionary in our ranks." Alecto knelt in front of him, very close to him, not giving him more than two inches of space to himself. "Are your dreams crushed, little Curenton? Have you seen the light of Fenrir's ideal? Pack can answer all of your problems if you only surrender yourself to it."

"I'm learning," Jeremy said, not too abruptly, not too easily. Carefully, as the frightened traitor in front of his once hopeful ranks. "I'm trying to learn, Miss Carrow."

Alecto took a piece of his hair between her fingers, curled it, and gave him a big, wide smile. "Didn't I see you sizing up Fenrir, little Curenton? Not so long ago. Not long enough for me to forget. We won't soon forget you and your pretty face, little Curenton. Your eyes full of hope, your mouth full of smart words. You're not off of the hook quite yet."

Jeremy gained a pained look, both in acting and in truth. They wouldn't forget him soon, but they had no idea what they were dealing with. "It's a hard habit to break. Fighting. Fighting for something you believe in. It's hard to believe in something so different, Miss Carrow. But I'm trying. I know I have to try."

He could feel the eyes of the unnameds on him, but he had told them ages ago, Don't listen to what I say under duress. I work for you. I mean to help you and all of those who don't serve Fenrir in truth. You must trust me no matter what I seem to say. You must, because once they know the truth of what I've said, you've lost me. And I may be your last hope.

It was too convenient, but Alecto gave him a slight smile and a nod. "Good. Glad to hear it, boy." She held the newspaper out. "Column on the right. They made the second page, I should send them congratulations, I really should. That's the closest they've made to the front page since the tragedy with you and your little sister."

Jeremy didn't even hear what Alecto was saying, didn't even absorb what she said about Erin, because the headline said CURENTON RESURRECTS WEREWOLF DEN. The article went on, and on, critcising his father, all but calling it an inevitable failure like the last, but it didn't matter because Dad had resurrected the Den. There was a pressure valve now. There was room for those who needed to be saved and could not be saved in the here and now in this situation.

Dad hadn't given up hope. A knot grew in his throat and worsened as he realised -- he had expected his father to lose hope. He hadn't trusted his father to continue the work. "Oh," he managed, after realising the silence he was causing. "Oh. Well."

"Oh?" Alecto lowered the newspaper, catching Jeremy's eye, and raised her eyebrows. She took on a sing-song. "An interesting article, don't you think?"

Out of my face, you Death Eating bitch, Jeremy wanted to say. I'm guaranteed to beat you all, he wanted to say. But premature gloating did no one any good. He let his wolf overwhelm him with its need for his family, its pack, as close as it could feel, and tears pricked his eyes. "Yeah," he said. "Interesting."

Curious. Alecto lifted his chin as though to examine him like a prize horse, and finally said, "Interesting how?"

It hurt to say it, but that only made it more genuine. "He doesn't learn," Jeremy forced out. "He never will. No matter how many you burn down. He'll never learn."

Alecto slapped him hard, sending him reeling and real tears springing to his eyes. "And are you different, little Curenton, than your fool of a father?"

"Yes," Jeremy managed in a half-sob, now too overwhelmed by the panic of his wolf, the dreadful grief of having to say these things about his father who he admired more than anyone, and for the first time, the question, is this worth it? Is this really worth it? "Yes," he repeated, mostly for his own benefit.

"Good." Alecto kissed his cheek, the same that she'd slapped, and got to her feet. "Bastards, you're to provide us with food. Do your best, if you fail, the weakest of you will die by Wesley's hands. Understood?" She stared them down, but not a one met her eyes, not even the Curenton. "Good. You have four hours. Do your best." Her harsh footsteps followed her out of the room.

Jeremy closed his eyes and sank onto his side again, and only a few cautious minutes passed before one unnamed closed the door, and several others approached him, kneeling. There was a flask of cool water in his hands within a minute, and the gentle hands of a former mediwitch on him, a former Healer looking on. They were all ages, younger than he was and three times as old, but he looked at them, for the first time, really looked at them.

As they looked back at him, he felt like a leader for the first time in many months. Yes. It was worth it. Jeremy Curenton knew what he was fighting for.