Fathers and Sons

Fathers and Sons

Chapter 18: As Kill a King

"Regicide comes easier to those who have nothing than those who have little." French Wizarding Proverb.

March 1981

This day was especially inauspicious, and Owen quite frankly couldn't wait for it to be over. He once again donned the robes he wore when he needed to be taken seriously, but instead of going for an appointment, this time it would take place on his ground, in the Den. Unfortunately, he was going to be meeting with Maldwyn Twiddle. He briefly wondered not only what he wanted, but why he hadn't opted for more neutral ground.

Twiddle was not in the mood to care either way. Pittiman was dead, his wife was as well and all three of their children were missing. Since it had occurred on the full moon, everyone had an idea of who to blame. On top of it all, pressure was being applied to him from all sides to get the problem under control and do it now. Normally, he would have sent Pittman to parlay with Curenton, but he was dead and in no condition to be doing much of anything, and he supposed he could have sent their little secretary but even he wasn't so cruel as to send the girl to deal with someone as stubborn as Owen was.

He had a headache already.

Downing a vial of potion for the pounding in his skull, he closed the door to his office and took the lift down to the Atrium, putting off Disapparation as long as possible until he had to Disapparate to the street in Swansea that wizards kept to. The Den was easy enough to spot -- there was no sign, but with a broken front window just the right size for a thrown rock, they didn't really need one. He let himself in the front door -- some things just did not change, it seemed.

Owen was waiting in his office -- near the front door, just as it had been in the old place -- and Twiddle stood in the doorway. For a moment the men just looked at each other. Sizing each other up, maybe, as it had been some time since they'd traded words in person. "Good morning, Mr. Twiddle," Owen finally said, his tone only hinting at the irony of the statement; it wasn't a good morning at all.

He did not answer, taking a seat without waiting for an invitation. "Is that front door ever locked?" he asked, foregoing niceties altogether.

"Only when we want to keep someone out," he answered with a tinge of the smirk.

Twiddle hated that smirk. So very much. "What about keeping someone in?"

"I assume that was your roundabout way of asking if we lock doors on the full moons, and yes, we do," Owen said blithely. "Now why did you actually ask to speak with me?"

He briefly wondered if Owen would just take off his head right off when he asked what he was being pressed to ask. Granted, with this headache, decapitation would be a favour. "There's been a rise in werewolf attacks, seemingly planned. The Ministry is being pressed to... do certain things, use certain things at their disposal."

"Your disposal," Owen corrected him mildly, leaning back in his chair. "Keep going."

He ignored it. "I am supposed to approach you to ask that you to start administering the Wolfsbane potion to the... people you have here."

For a moment Owen stared at him blankly, and then he snorted out a laugh. "I'm presuming that this was a formality and you knew that I was going to tell you no, so here it is," he said. "No."

"I did think that," he admitted, and nobody in their right mind would expect anything else. "But I also thought that you could see sense."

"I'm not going to feed poison to the people who have put their trust in me. That's why Brighid cooks," he quipped. "It's a no, Twiddle."

"Not even to possibly save lives? You of all people should be behind us on this," he shot back.

"Didn't take you long, did it," he replied frostily. "No, I am not going to listen to the Ministry's fear-mongering and blindly follow it when I know that there is only one man -- one awful, vengeful man, yes -- but he is the only one responsible for this."

"Oh yes, the elusive Fenrir Greyback." Twiddle's tone was reserved with a derisive edge.

"Yes," he replied. "So, no, Mr. Twiddle, I am not going to allow you or the hospital to forcibly distribute that junk to unwilling participants. If you want to find volunteers, educate them about the risks to drinking the poison, and admit that you basically have no idea as to what possible long-term effects are, then by all means -- "

"I don't have the time." He was having a difficult time not coming off annoyed when he so very obviously was, but as it turned out the shortest road to his perceived solution was also the most difficult.

"You also don't have the manpower or the funding."

"Especially now that one-third of my division is actually dead," he spat. "I came looking for help and I'm really confused as to why you're not... helping."

"Because I don't believe that drugging part of them -- a part of them that they can control and be at peace with, by the way -- is helping. I don't think we should be so quick to medicate if it's unnecessary." Owen's speech was becoming more heated, but he kept it controlled.

"Given their part in the current political situation -- "

"They don't have a part in the current political situation, we've robbed them of that -- "

" -- they're lucky that we're willing to help at all," he finished.

"Wow. You went there," Owen said after a moment of silence.

Twiddle stood; he needed to pace. "I just... Belby was your friend -- "

"Is my friend," he broke in calmly.

"Was, is, whatever. He is your friend, and he developed the potion, how can you doubt his motives?" He spotted the picture on the office wall. The little blonde girl who jumped for the miniature Quaffle that her older, taller brother held just out of her reach as he laughed. "When you look at that, how can you even -- "

"I don't doubt his motives," Owen cut him off. "Damocles has always wanted to know the how and the why of things, and build his own. He's never been overly concerned with what it could do in the wrong hands, he's a bit of a Frankenstein in that way... But he doesn't think about what the wrong uses are, doesn't believe he can take a stand on the ethical ways of things."

Twiddle couldn't take his eyes off the photograph just yet as Erin Curenton made one more leap for the Quaffle. "I have three girls, and if it had been any of them I don't know that I would have been able to stop myself."

Maybe that was the difference between the two of them. Owen had made a decision while Jeremy was still laying unconscious in the hospital to concentrate and focus his energies on what he had left, and Twiddle would claim to look for vengeance. Maybe he was right; it seemed like Fenrir had just continued to take things from him as he scrambled to salvage them. "I had one, she's dead, and nothing will bring her back." He paused. "Not even baying for the blood of people who had nothing to do with it."

"Wouldn't stop me," he answered with a shrug. "Help us, or don't. One day it's going to become such a problem that you and I won't be the only ones paying attention to what happens with the werewolves."

"We aren't the only ones who pay attention," he said exasperatedly. "You have an entire Department around you, MLE, the people in this house care. The people they know out there care."

"They might say something," he retorted dryly.

"Why say something if nobody's listening? Wizards have pushed them so far away that we're... we're irrelevant, really." There weren't really words to convey how little regard most werewolves he'd met had for the Ministry -- and he'd been meeting a lot more of them lately since Jeremy had been bringing them by handfuls. They had their own laws, their own system, and were having their own war. "We don't have anything here for you. You're not going to dose them with that rubbish, and none of us are hiding Fenrir Greyback in our pockets. So go."

Twiddle shrugged. It was no less than he'd expected and neither of them was bleeding which was an improvement over their last contact. "The window in your front room's been broken."

"We were busy this morning and Brighid wanted the windows open anyway," Owen remarked dismissively, indicated Twiddle's presence was no longer welcome.

Again, Twiddle shrugged. "Suit yourself," he answered and let himself out by the front door.

~*~

April 1981

Jeremy had a busy night ahead of him, even after he addressed the unnameds about the plans, including parts of the one he meant to present later to the main members of the alliance he had going. He arrived first in the upstairs room Remus had due to his rank, and used the free time reconsidering his plans once more. These meetings were rare, this being the second of its kind, and he had to put this in the right words or it would get shot down immediately. This was important. And all, of course, thanks to Julia.

Satisfied that Jeremy had not been caught and there had been no notice of where he'd gone to, Skylar followed minutes later, making sure to leave Gemma with Rory. For whose benefit and protection, she wasn't sure, but as long as they were both in one piece when she came back it would be fine. She took the stairs quickly and quietly, and slipped in the door to Remus's room, closing it slowly again behind her. "Hey, saboteur man," she greeted him.

He sat up, rolled up his parchment, and sent her a wry smile. "Saboteur man. I like it," he said. "Hey, Sky. How are things? Haven't talked to you in a bit."

"Yeah, it's been awhile," she agreed with a small smile. "Things have been... all right," she said slowly. "All things considered... all right."

"'All right' is more than anyone can ask for in the unified pack," he said, gesturing for her to take a seat. "Your pack's doing a good job of staying under the radar."

"What is left of us. It's what Ben trained us for." She immediately covered the pang she felt at missing Ben with a crooked smirk. "Staying in the woodwork and staying together, that sort of thing. Only way we're going to be able to get anywhere, right?" she added brightly.

He nodded and considered that. "Staying in the woodwork and stepping out at the appropriate moments," he answered.

"The only way to do it," she said cheerfully. "How are you? You've been in better spirits since you came back this time."

Jeremy hesitated to say it. "I have an idea," he said. "And ... I'm going to get married."

Skylar's eyebrows immediately shot up. "Really," she finally said. "I mean, I don't mean that like it sounds. That's all... good news."

Jeremy leaned against the wall. "Really," he said, shoving the parchment in his pocket. "I proposed the last time I went there, and it's going to be a fight, but... she's willing to wait for me while I'm here." He shrugged.

"There are things worth waiting for," she said, smiling back encouragingly at him. Jeremy, married. Skylar really hoped that she could be there to see the look on Ben's face when he heard. She stopped, however, when she heard voices outside and relaxed as she recognized Briony's voice.

Briony pulled Remus in to the room behind her, and eyed Skylar and Jeremy. "Hey," she said.

"Hey," Jeremy greeted, straightening where he sat and charming the door shut. "Are the charms still up?" he asked Remus.

Remus already had his wand in his hand, checking them for holes and tampering. He felt that the likelihood of that was significantly less, now that Alecto Carrow was no longer in the house, but he wasn't willing to take chances. "Yes," he said, once he was sure. "And they'll hold, no worries."

As though having the first on their side wasn't good enough, he was also a more capable wizard than Jeremy could ever hope to be. Too lucky, almost. "Great. So... the meeting is in session, I suppose," he said, gesturing widely. "And the floor is open. Anything to report?"

There was a moment as they each waited to see if one of the other three was going to say something. Briony finally spoke first. "Fenrir sent Conor to another pack, somewhere in Northern Ireland. It's... small, maybe ten people at the most. They've just been hiding away -- not that I can blame them. I wouldn't be surprised if they were here by next week."

"Fuck," Jeremy said, finding no other word to accurately describe his irritation. "Fuck, well, it'll be a good distraction. Good. Remus?"

"Well." He cast a glance at Briony. "Fenrir has said that he's prepared to take them forcefully, although that's been backburner until recently. Yaxley came again over the full moon and -- "

"Are those the new children?" Skylar interrupted to ask. Remus nodded.

"New children?" Jeremy never really spoke to the children, not about to infringe on Wesley's territory.

"I don't know -- there's two boys and a girl, Gemma's been talking to the oldest boy," Skylar started.

"They're the children of Elliot Pittiman," Remus said, preparing to divulge. "He was aiding the Death Eaters with concealing the pack from within the Ministry because they threatened his family. But he gave Aurors information, recently -- I don't know what kind of information, exactly -- but obviously they felt it necessary to be rid of him. Fenrir took the children."

"Elliot Pittiman," Jeremy repeated. The name sounded familiar, but if so, it had to've been some time ago, no one from a pack, no one from the Den, until he realised. "The Charmsworker. The one who built the tracking charms." He remembered the terror in Pittiman's eyes when he'd let the wolf stare him down, and now... "What happened to him?" he asked.

"Nothing good," Briony guessed.

"Well. The Death Eaters are certainly not keen on leaving the traitorous amongst their ranks alive," Remus conceded delicately. "Both him and his wife, I'm afraid."

Jeremy had seen enough people die. He could handle this. "All right then," he said. He was fine. "Sky, anything to share?"

Skylar made a note to ply Gemma for any information she might have gotten out of the three children who only seemed to speak amongst themselves and never to anyone else. "Nothing now," she said.

"Great," Jeremy said with cheer. "Because I was given an idea and had some time to refine it since I was back, and now I'm telling you all the new plan of action." He paused to find some better phrase, but it was best just to say it. "We're going to try to kill Fenrir."

There was a moment of stunned, very surreal silence where the other three weren't sure that they'd heard Jeremy correctly. All three stared at him for a long moment that only seemed to grow longer. Skylar cocked her head at him, and said, "Seriously?"

"Right! Kill Fenrir. Why didn't we think of that before," Briony added with a measure of black humour. Remus was the only one who didn't say anything, merely continued to regard Jeremy with a thoughtful expression.

Jeremy gave them his best mad saboteur grin. "If you think about it, it's exactly what we need. Any good rebellion will strike first at the supplies and the lieutenants and stir up trouble, but inevitably they go for the heart of the whole thing, and the heart of the unified pack is Fenrir Greyback. If the 'rebellion' goes after Fenrir," he concluded, finger quotes and all, "and he crushes the 'rebellion,' he will have nothing to fear at all."

The pieces fell into place in Remus's head like it was a flash of lightning. "It's a diversion," he said.

"The diversion," Jeremy said, with a firm nod. "After that, so long as we're quiet, we'll be able to do anything we want."

Skylar nodded slowly, understanding. Briony was the one to speak up. "I get it," she said. "But who's taking the fall for this? For the rebellion to be crushed, someone is probably going to have to... you know." Even though she should have been used to it, she couldn't make herself say it.

"Be crushed?" Jeremy supplied, almost with amusement. "I didn't bring it up until I knew who. But now I know."

At this point, she was convinced he was doing it for the dramatics. "Who," she repeated.

Jeremy relished the moment, his genius moment. "Laurel."

For the second time, a shocked silence fell over them. Remus's wolf squirmed at that, but he firmly ignored it. "Laurel," he repeated.

"This rebellion," Jeremy said, moving to sit forward on his knees now, "has come from the unnameds. They've known this all along, since I joined the pack, since I started working against Fenrir, until I stopped -- but it's always been the unnameds. Look at who Fenrir listens to - Remus, Conor, Wesley, Alecto, chosen because they're named, male, or just the preferred lover -- but Laurel, the female unnamed, his real first -- she was left behind. Why wouldn't she turn against him? And isn't she the unnamed with the most power in this pack, the one with the easiest access to Fenrir's throat, the one who is very fond of knives?"

They all considered it, and Skylar seemed to be the first to come to the same conclusion Jeremy had. "Well. He's not wrong," she insisted to them.

"No," Remus agreed.

"Not wrong," Briony echoed, and she looked between all of them. "I -- look, I'm not saying you are wrong, Jeremy, but only use her if you're sure it can be made to look convincing. Fenrir and Laurel have been with each other for... a very long time. Since before Conor brought me -- there's no guarantee he wouldn't just take her word," she said.

Jeremy stared at the floor for a moment, but concentrating, not despondent -- he took out his parchment, quill and ink and began to scribble down what Laurel had going for her and what she didn't. Obedience. Years of service. It wasn't looking good. Clear resentment of Remus.

He looked up after a moment. "She hates the ranked nameds," he said. "It's obvious. She and Wesley have their... camaraderie, but Fenrir still trusts Wesley with more, and -- and Laurel hates you, Remus, we all know that. All we need is for Laurel to act suspiciously and for Fenrir to distance himself from her -- " He stopped. "If they both believed that Alecto was coming back..."

"That could clinch it." Remus looked at Briony, who looked back. They'd both been around the pack long enough to know how Laurel was thrown off balance in when Alecto Carrow was around. "If he doesn't know what she gets up to, then it can create enough doubt for him to not trust her over everything else. We exploit that crack."

"The evidence as it is would be is awfully damning," Skylar added gently.

"I know," Briony cut in. "I was just saying, that we're going to be working against a lot of years and a very, very close relationship, named or no. It can work, it just needs to be accounted for."

"This isn't you and Conor, Briony," Jeremy felt the need to add. "He uses her and he throws her away. Everyone sees it. You all know it."

She managed to keep herself from pulling a face, and decided to drop it, her point across successfully. "How do you see events transpiring, then?" she asked.

He tried to line the events up in his head. "We plant the seeds. The next time Yaxley comes back, the day after, we hint that he suggested Alecto would be coming back. Soon after, Remus tells Wesley that he thinks Laurel's spending too much time with the unnameds. We make sure Fenrir hears the rumours -- both that Laurel is acting strangely and that Alecto might be returning."

Jeremy ran his hand into his hair. "And I'll talk to Laurel. I'll get her agitated. I know how to push her buttons. And once she's agitated and Fenrir suspects her, we wait a day, then Remus or I will use stealth charms, sneak into their bedroom, and plant a knife on Laurel while they're in bed together."

Briony considered it, and remembered what Skylar had said to her months ago. They were not accounting to failure. There was no Plan B. "Okay," she said.

"Bri?" Skylar glanced at her. The other girl's face was placid, no hint of the thoughts that were undoubtedly racing through her head crossed her features.

"No, nothing," she said, and looked at Jeremy. "It'll work." There was no other choice.

"That's more like it," Jeremy said, his expression set and determined as he drew a bold line across the parchment to mark off the plan as it stood. "If this works, we'll be untouchable. We'll be able to save the unnameds, and then even the nameds, and when Fenrir finally looks away from his own vain ideal he'll look at his unified pack and realise that we're all long gone."

"Nameds will be harder," was Briony's immediate reaction.

"Let's get this out of the way first," Remus suggested pragmatically.

Jeremy's breath caught in his throat and he exhaled sharply, swallowing before he could speak. It would work. It had to work. "The nameds will have their chance." He had some work to do, some traveling, some convincing. "We'll wait for Yaxley. I have to leave tomorrow, he probably won't go back soon. Make sure someone takes care of the Pittiman kids." He got to his feet and pocketed his parchment after protecting it with the necessary charms.

"I'll try and talk to them -- at the very least make sure Gemma keeps talking to them," Skylar said, standing and dusting herself off.

Jeremy tried to keep a grip on reality, but the possibilities were overwhelming. No. He was going back into serfdom, he had to look the part. He shook it off. "Remus. You have this handled?" He tried to not let his doubt show.

His doubt was hidden, but barely. Not that Remus could exactly blame him. "It is good as done," he said calmly, in control and making sure Jeremy saw his resolve.

"Great," Jeremy said, taking the moment to consider the wolf -- it was just as pleased with the situation as he was -- and reach out to all the named wolves who would appreciate the gesture. "We're doing something good," he said. "I'll see you all. At some point."

Skylar happily touched back. "I'll go first," she announced. "Later, kids -- saboteur man," she added to Jeremy with a wink before making sure the hallway was clear and slipping out of the door.

Briony looked back at Jeremy for a moment. "Saboteur man?" she asked with a rare hint of amusement.

Jeremy sent her an unabashed grin. "Catchy, isn't it?"

"Oh, very much so," she agreed dryly.

"We'll have business cards printed," Remus echoed the tone.

"Yeah, yeah." Jeremy scoffed and gave them a brief wave before Disapparating.

Briony jumped and released her breath. "I hate it when he does that."

Remus smiled briefly. "Just a little Apparation," he said, although realised somewhat awkwardly that chances were she didn't know how. "Well. If the hall is clear... I'll see you."

He was a nervous man. She touched wolves briefly, and tried not to jump at how his latched on, backing away mentally. It was like when she had first met Jeremy. Pack-starved. "Even if it weren't, Remus, I doubt anyone would think anything of a girl leaving the room of the beloved first and heir of the Unified Pack," she teased him with the same hint of amusement she had spoken to Jeremy with.

His face flushed a brilliant scarlet, fairly sure that they would be thinking something. "Good night, Briony," he said quickly.

She said nothing as she opened the door to leave, just gave a quiet laugh and closed the door behind her.

~*~

Night was falling over the safe house of Hati and her ragtag pack, and every time that it did, Hati wondered if it would be the last she would see as the head of her sanctuary. The situation was looking particularly grim, with Fenrir Greyback and his legion of the unified pack being virtually uncontested with every move they'd made, and now her pack was the only one with strength and wands enough to stand against him. That could mean they were safe. But their power could also damn them to the fate of the Den and Conor's pack.

Hati turned away from the second-floor window to look to Ben Skoll once again. "I meant to talk," she admitted, "but I'm not sure there's much that has to be said. There's me. There's Curenton. There's Fenrir."

Ben had a great deal of respect for Hati, and in the months since he and Keith had taken refuge with her pack along with Patick and Jane, it had developed into like as well. He often checked himself, though, since affection was the trap that he had laid for himself the first time. "There probably isn't all that much, I agree. Everyone else says plenty."

Hati leaned against the wall, relaxed despite her troubles, the wolf calm and searching out its children as always, for comfort. "He's not even sent a single envoy to me, you know. Maybe he's forgotten about me? I am just a woman, after all," she said, utterly sarcastic.

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he answered. "There's simply no point in sending an envoy to you, Hati. You're not going fold like a cheap tent and give up your pack, and you have the strength to withstand Fenrir. Sending an envoy would be a bad move, at best." He paused. "Besides, he's using Conor for the job, and I should think he'd be hard pressed to find someone else he could send with Conor's sense that he could manipulate quite so effectively."

She couldn't hide a touch of amusement either. "That, and I would hardly allow Conor to return that snakepit without a very good reason. He's too good to be wasted on Fenrir's delusion of grandeur." She looked down at her feet. "I can't help but think this is a failure on our part, Ben. Had we taken Fenrir seriously earlier... and now no pack dares question, they just pick up and join."

"This can't be laid at anyone's feet, Hati," he reassured her. "No one could have foreseen what this was going to become. It went from bad to worse in a very bad set of circumstances."

Hati nodded and tucked her hands behind her back, pacing. "They still don't care. It's not very comforting, Ben, that the only wizards who care about the outcome of this are either living in this house, the Curentons, or the Death Eaters. You would think that those... attacks of Fenrir's might wake them up. But all they do is fear the lot of us more. It's a bad set of circumstances, all right. We're on our own."

"They don't realize that Fenrir is the exception rather than the rule," he said. "They will only believe what they see."

She started to answer, but heard the unmistakable sound of trainers on the steep stairs to the second floor and simply said, "Well, when we win, they'll see an entirely different side of werewolves. What is it, David?" she asked before her younger son even opened his mouth.

David was unfazed. Mam was psychic, observant, whatever you wanted to call it. "Adam and I checked everything and everyone, we're safe for now, and Da said that dinner'll be ready by the time you're finished hashing all the politics out here so come downstairs."

"Finished? With politics? That'll be the day," Ben replied, a grin on his face.

"We'll be finished hashing out politics when you're finished digging out my grave," Hati said with a grim sort of smirk.

David shook his head. "Not funny," he said, half in warning, mostly because it was likely to be true.

Ben glanced at Hati. "Choose better jokes," he advised her teasingly.

Hati waved David away. "We'll be down for dinner, I promise. I do have one question," she said to Ben. She pulled up a chair to sit opposite him. "Jokes aside. Is there merit in the idea of contacting the Ministry? You know his eventual intent, and it is no happy family."

He nodded, and hesitated. "The Ministry... from what I can see is spread thin at this point and honestly I find it unlikely that they would do something until they could see the danger for certain. Even if not, the Death Eaters would have certainly made sure they were covering their tracks."

She smiled, perhaps inappropriately. "It's us versus them, then," she said. "I always thought it would come down to this, if anyone was mad enough to do this. I'm the only one of us with capable wands readily on hand, excepting Jane and Conor's pack, of course."

"Jane's acquitted herself wonderfully," Ben said. He'd had doubts when she first came to his pack, but she had flourished and proven to be quite powerful, if not downright nervy at times. "An ally definitely worth having."

"I only wish we had Conor and his first," Hati said, then stood. "But perhaps we'll soon see more of Conor. I can't wait."

"Perhaps," he echoed uncertainly, and indicated for her to lead the way downstairs with an 'after you' motion.

Down the narrow stairs the pack was waiting for both of them, and Hati sent Keith a smile once they entered the sitting room. "Have you seen Edward?" she asked him, though her first was more likely than not with her sons.

Keith glanced up from the newest edition of The Daily Prophet that he'd found in the house. "Oh, um. He and Adam just left to find Jane for dinner," he said.

"Was she missing?" Ben broke in, suddenly perturbed.

"Well. Not really, I guess, she just... wasn't here," he replied back, motioning to show a general vicinity.

Hati didn't feel right about this, and glanced at Ben to see if he agreed with her assessment. Ben caught the look out of the corner of his eye and asked Keith, "When did you last see her?"

"I guess it was less than an hour ago," he said, after considering it. "When Adam and David went out, she went out to check too."

Hati didn't think twice before taking out her wand and Summoning her hooded cloak. "I'm going out there," she said.

"No need," Ben said, catching a glance of four people and two lit wands walking towards the house in the dusk. He moved to the window in hopes of catching a better look, although he definitely recognized the silhouettes of Adam and Edward and could deduce one of the remaining had to be Jane. "They have someone," he announced.

Hati returned her cloak to the rack and waited, tense, for the quartet to arrive in the house. It was too much to hope that it was just her two sons, her first, and Jane making trouble again. She reached out with the wolf to Edward's as he entered the house before she even hurried to the door and spoke. Tell me. "What's going on?"

As always Edward reacted as soon as she pressed him. "An intruder, Jane found him," he said, not without amusement at the understatement.

"Found him, trussed him up, and gagged him like a chicken," Adam added with an unapologetic grin, guiding their prisoner in by one arm. "We had to convince her to allow him some dignity and walk to the house instead of behind Levitated."

"He was near the trees," Jane said, following behind. She took his wand from her pocket, which she'd picked up after disarming him. "He had this, I wasn't taking chances."

"I should say you weren't," Adam laughed, and she pulled a face back at him. "Sitting room?" he asked his mother.

"Sitting room," Hati said with a nod, and eyed the prisoner before leading the way.

Edward considered the trussed-up prisoner, who was watching them all rather carefully, and commented to Adam with a gesture towards Jane, "Good thing we're on her side."

"She's disarming me more often than not these days, I'm certainly not going to be the first one to piss her off," he answered, leading the prisoner by the arm again. "She didn't even use her Bat Bogey Hex."

"Didn't need to," Jane responded only a little smugly, nudging Edward in the ribs to slip into the room in front of him.

Ben and Keith were wearing near identical expressions of mixed shock and amusement as Adam escorted their captive and sat him in a chair. Ben waited until Jane had removed the Silencio with a wave of her wand before asking with a little grin, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Well I'm glad to see you lot are prepared if nothing else," Jeremy said after a moment of utter embarrassment, "but you can take the netting hex off, I'm hardly Fenrir Greyback's best mate."

Hati couldn't relax at the idea of an intruder, even if it was one known by Ben Skoll's pack. "Who is this?" she demanded in her fiercest pack leader tone.

Ben's grin immediately widened. He touched Jeremy's understandably annoyed wolf with his briefly in greeting in what was hopefully a calming manner. "Hati, this is an honoured friend of my pack, Jeremy Curenton. A nosy git sometimes, but no friend of Fenrir's," he started teasingly. "Jeremy, this is Hati, as I'm sure you've gathered."

Jeremy sent Ben a grateful glance and returned the gesture with the wolf, then bowed his head in a respectful nod to Hati. "It's an honour, very much an honour. I would shake your hand or might dare kiss it if I was able," he added.

"Curenton," Hati repeated, then approached the boy to inspect him. "You are almost the spitting image of Owen Curenton, aren't you. I don't suppose you're here on behalf of the Den, then? Owen should know well that my werewolves are hardly interested in his sanctuary, Pembrokeshire or Swansea."

Jeremy actually began to laugh, but when Hati's expression tightened, he said, "No. I'm here to enlist your help. I've come from Fenrir's unified pack, and -- "

"I thought you said that Fenrir would send an envoy with common sense in the place of Conor, Ben," Hati said loudly over the little Jeremy continued with. "But -- "

"I'm here from those who are sabotaging the unified pack," Jeremy shouted. "We're going to beat him and we need your help!"

Ben gave Hati a half-pleading look to bear with them. "Jane, go ahead and take off the hex. He won't be trouble."

Jane startled, and looked at Ben and back at Jeremy guiltily with her cheeks immediately going pink. "Oh, um, right. Sorry," she hurriedly apologised to Jeremy, removing the hex and returning his wand as Adam, Edward, and Keith began to laugh uproariously.

Ben waited for their laughter to die down before he spoke to Jeremy again. "You're actually doing it."

Jeremy wiped the blood from his nose and tried to regain his dignity. "I'm doing it," he said. "I have Conor, Briony, Fenrir's first, Skylar, Melinda -- I have countless nameds and unnameds from within Fenrir's pack who are working with me to take down the unified pack. We have a plan and we need you."

"Rory?" Keith asked when he could no longer contain the question, and qualified it when heads turned towards him. "I know this is important," he added immediately, humble as anything, "but is he there?"

Jeremy was startled by the interjection, but considered the question. "Rory, Gemma's friend? Yeah, he's there. He's... well, Gemma keeps him out of trouble. But he's there. And Sky is doing great," he added to Ben. "She's invaluable, she's a credit to your pack."

Ben turned his attention from Keith at that point -- he literally saw the weight lift from Keith's shoulders; he knew that worry over Rory had drained a lot of time and energy from his son. "Yeah, she's worth twice her weight in Galleons like that," he told Jeremy. "She's bloody glue is what she is."

Jeremy looked over at the witch who'd bound him, and dared ask. "Are you Jane?"

Jane glanced back at him through her fringe, extremely contrite. "Yes."

"Conor and Briony are fine," he said. "Melinda is as well; she's left the unified pack and is helping the refugees from the unified pack at the Den. Conor's pack is safe. I thought you might want to know."

She released the breath she didn't know that she'd been holding, and nodded. "Thanks," she said quietly.

"Any other questions for him?" Hati asked, staring around the room. He seemed widely trusted, and a Curenton was unlikely to fall into the mindset of the Greyback pack, but she was still wary. "I want to know about this plan."

Nobody seemed willing to deprive Hati of information in her own house. "I'll go tell dad to keep it warm, this might take you awhile," Adam announced, backing out of the room.

"Go ahead then, Jeremy," Ben prompted.

Well, Hati was more formidable than Jeremy ever could have predicted. It was both a good thing and a very dangerous thing, and he had to think quickly and well all at once before her apparent impatience flared up again. "We have convinced Fenrir that a rebellion exists within his pack," he said slowly. "We let him crush said decoy rebellion every once in a while. This is our diversion, so we can move unnameds out of the unified pack to the Den. They're the majority in the unified pack, no one pays attention, so we can cut down his numbers by moving them out in small groups.

"Once his numbers are low enough and he's just got ranked names and really loyal unnameds, we'll have the highest ranked nameds urge Fenrir to war against you. That's when they'll be able to turn against him without the Death Eaters, Wesley, or Fenrir himself killing them. That'll be the end of the unified pack," he finished. "With your power and our own -- we have two wands, you have ... at least four, and we have more than enough werewolves to fight -- we can win. I promise you that. I swear on my life."

Ben listened and contemplated the plan as Jeremy continued to speak. It was a plan that had certainly come a long way from "ending his father's reign." Instead of speaking, he scratched his jaw and glanced at Hati, waiting for her reaction first.

Hati tilted her head to the side as she considered his words, then glanced around to see the general reaction; surprise, scepticism, disbelief, acceptance. She turned back to the young Curenton and said, "You want to use my pack as another of your diversions, is that it?"

"Not at all," Jeremy said the instant she finished speaking, quick to explain. "I -- we want you as an ally, Hati, we all want the one thing. Fenrir's advantage is his wands and his numbers, and once he's outnumbered in wands and his numbers have turned against him, he'll be powerless."

It sounded to Ben as though war with Hati was not merely a diversion but the diversion, but at the same time. "It's not a diversion. It's the end of the road for the unified pack."

"A trap for him and his ego to walk into," Jane echoed caustically.

"Exactly!" Jeremy stood. "I can't stay long, but I can promise you this, all of you, just prepare yourself for war and we'll do the rest. It's all in the works, it's only a matter of time."

Hati still wasn't ready to trust him. "What about the Death Eaters?" she asked. "What if they bring Death Eaters, burn this house down, take us down like they did your father's Den, what then? What plan do you have worked out for that?"

Jeremy paused; there was no easy answer for that, nothing he could confidently say. "If the Death Eaters come," he said, "we'll figure something out. Just be prepared with your best wards, your best protection, have every wand be half as quick as Jane's, and it won't be an issue." He dared brush his wolf to hers, feeling its tensed control. "I'll stop at nothing, I'll slit their throats myself, trust me. Trust me. I will stop at nothing to end this, and if you will too, you'll trust me. I'm halfway there."

Hati lashed out against him instinctively, watched him recoil, and shouted to the gathered crowd, "Is it agreed, should we trust him? It's not my life alone at stake with this plan, it's all of yours."

There was a heightened tension in the air, as looks were exchanged but nobody really spoke. Jane... well, she could believe it, but that didn't mean she liked it. "Even if this pack decides it can't take part, I have to. Somehow. My family's in there." She spoke deliberately and directly to Hati, not without respect but leaving no room for misunderstanding.

"And ours," Keith added, and stopped again at a mild look from Ben. For half a moment, he was unable to read his father's face and even expected to be admonished, but Ben's attention did not remain on him long as he turned back to speak to Hati.

"Fenrir will come sooner or later," he said pragmatically, evenly. "I told you, he won't bother with an envoy. It would be a waste of his time and take away any element of surprise he might possess. It might be better to trick him into coming on our terms, when we can be ready for him."

Of anyone's opinion in her house, at this point, Ben Skoll's mattered the most, and if he trusted the boy, well, she had no choice. Hati gave the Curenton a nod. "You have our support. Anything you need that we can offer, just ask. But if you fail -- "

"I won't fail." Jeremy knew the response he would get to cutting her off, took the lash of reaction from Hati's wolf in stride, and pressed on. "I won't fail, I can't fail. I know what's at stake, I promise you."

Hati appraised him. He meant what he said, there was no denying it. She only hoped he could deliver. "Good," she said, with a note of finality, and then declared, "Dinner! If it's still warm." She eyed the boy with his wand and broken nose once more, then left to go visit the kitchen and her husband.

The tension lessened immediately, and Jane stepped forward to Jeremy. "I'm sorry," she apologised again, more abashed than ever. "I was being cautious and got overly zealous -- here, hold still, I can heal your nose -- "

"Well, I will say one thing, Jeremy," Ben began, "and that is I am extremely glad you're not dead."

Jeremy obediently sat still and tried not to laugh. "It's fine, it is, I'm glad you -- agh -- you have good protection here." He looked to Ben, and added simply, "Well, Ben, I'm hard to kill."

"I see that," he said, amused. "Still in one piece, too? Not missing any toes or anything that you're not showing us, right?"

"Well that makes for the second time my nose was broken and we think Wesley broke one of my ribs once, but all my limbs are attached." Jeremy sent Jane a graciously amused smile once she was finished and wiped the blood from his nose again. "Thanks. No, they think I'm a brainwashed little bastard who's fallen obediently into line, now, and we're killing the only one who suspects me at all."

Ben outright laughed. "You, a brainwashed bastard of the pack. That might be the funniest thing I've heard all year, excuse me."

Jane, however, was not quite so amused. "Who's that, then?" she asked.

"Fenrir's first, Laurel." Jeremy took a seat again, allowing himself a smirk at Ben's amusement. "She saw right through me, she knows unnameds are just as dangerous as nameds. She's taking the fall for the rebellion."

"Well, if there's someone who knows about an unnamed being able to be dangerous as well as totally crazy, it's her," she said wryly.

"You calling Jeremy crazy?" Ben broke in, still very much entertained.

"You saying he's not? Anyway, I didn't say it was a bad thing," she added.

"Oh, I'm completely insane," Jeremy said, completely entertained as well. "Wouldn't be able to do this without dying of the pressure otherwise." He grinned at Jane and stuck his hand out to her. "We never were formally acquainted. I'm Jeremy Curenton. Son of celebrated author and creator of the Den, Owen Curenton. Fenrir's worst nightmare."

"And modest to boot, obviously," she replied, shaking his hand. "I'm Jane. Of Conor's pack, but you already know that."

"And obviously the worst nightmare of anyone who decides to lurk in the trees," Keith added, ruffling her hair affectionately as he walked past her to the door.

"Oh, get off me," she retorted, batting his hand away.

Jeremy laughed, wanting to talk more, really, but his attention was slowly drifting towards the smell of dinner. "Think it'd be all right if I stayed here a bit longer?" he asked Ben, then said to Jane, "Don't run off yet, I have one more thing to mention."

Jane made a rather unladylike motion at Keith, which Ben ignored. "I'm sure we can feed a clever trickster like yourself," Ben said, standing. "But don't conceal your wand, keep it out in the open," he further advised.

"I'll have to get used to that," Jeremy quipped, sitting back, trying to let the wolf calm down, but it hadn't exactly liked being attacked and then affronted twice by another wolf. He almost reached out to touch wolves with Jane before he remembered, instead actually looking at her. It was a strange feeling, not having that immediate sense at hand. "I don't know how well you might have known Melinda, or if you cared for her," he said to Jane, "but she might appreciate a familiar face."

She took in a deep breath and released it slowly. She hadn't seen any of them in so long -- it had been more than a year -- and the idea of seeing any of them, regardless of how they may have felt about her, was sorely tempting. "She was Geoff's, really, but... we got on. I think." Memory was a strange thing, one could never be sure that they were remembering something as it had been or as she wished it. "Thank you."

"No problem," he said with a nod. "Shouldn't be too long 'til you can see Briony and Conor, too. And I see Briony more than she might like, so, if you want to pass anything on." He shrugged. "But I'm getting dinner. Thanks for, you know, sending me back in one piece."

Well. Briony she definitely remembered there being a strained and complex relationship with, but she very much wanted to see both of them again. "Sure," she shrugged in return. "Well. At least we'll know it's you next time, won't we?"

"Dunno if I can keep coming here. It's a long way from the pack. We'll see." Jeremy raked his hand through his hair. "I'm glad you're on my side," he concluded. "Bet you could take on Alecto Carrow any day. Now. Dinner." No matter how exhausted he was, he had to focus. Food, and then escape. He turned to go.

Jane hung back with Ben as Jeremy went. "Friend of your pack, eh," she said finally.

"Friend of my pack... god save him, someone's got to," Ben sighed in return, squeezing her shoulder and lightly guiding her in front of him to head for dinner.

~*~

There were moments when Jeremy Curenton knew he was really not much more than a stupid young bloke who was perhaps too devoted to his work, with a girl he hardly deserved. Today it was far too evident, because he was on his way back to see his fiancée, it was a nice spring day in May, and he was stealing a few flowers from someone's garden (they'd never miss them) to give to her to apologise for whatever stupid thing he was about to do or say.

Because, after all, there was no doubt in his mind what stupid, mad, very Curenton thing he was going to end up saying, and either way, it could hardly beat Marry me.

He entered the house without even hesitating at the door, waved at Melinda, and stopped at the door of his father's office. "Dad," he said.

Owen regarded his son for a moment over the top of the latest edition of The Daily Prophet before putting it down entirely. "Jeremy," he replied in a similar tone, although as always happened, his nerves relaxed when Jeremy was in the house. He looked at the suspiciously well-kept flowers in his hand before speaking again, "For someone, or were you feeling particularly whimsical today?"

"For you, and I thought up a bit of poetry on the way, too," Jeremy said in a cheerfully dry tone. "Anything good?" He indicated the newspaper and tried to catch a glimpse of a photograph moving on the front page. "I've not seen a copy in weeks, not the worst thing in the world really."

"Well. I dare say that you haven't missed much." He glanced at the front page. "Just the usual disappearances, diatribe having to do with nothing at all - you know. Read it before you go if you'd like."

"I will, I haven't had my monthly quota of disgust with the wizarding press filled yet." Jeremy lowered the flowers. "I have to talk to Julia, is she in? If she's not, I - " will have to wait another week so it'll stop being so bloody suspicious. "I'll wait for her."

"She came this morning. Last I saw her, she was with your mother, but I don't think she left. What they'd be doing, I can hardly say, I'm not sure I'm allowed to know," he answered with a measure of good humour. "Go on, go rescue her."

"Yeah, that's me, charming prince on a horse. I'll be back for that Prophet," Jeremy swore before ducking out to find Julia.

"I know it's not something you're terribly focused on, and it's not going to be happening for some time, Julia, but I mean this for your own good, we really should talk about your wedding," Brighid stated firmly as she sat Julia down in the empty sitting room. "I -- " she happened to glance out the door. "Jeremy!"

I Jeremy? "What?" Julia asked in return, immediately confused by the sudden change in subject.

"What?" Jeremy responded automatically, sticking his head into the door. "Oh, good, Dad was right, hey, Julia, can we talk for a bit? Sorry Mum."

"Yes, we can talk," Julia answered before Brighid had a chance to break in, jumping up from her chair. "Er, sorry Brighid. We'll talk soon," she said, giving the most nonspecific answer she could to her future mother-in-law.

He slipped his arm around Julia and slid the flowers into his pocket in one slick move, and couldn't help but be a bit amused. "What was that?" he had to ask. "I haven't seen you run that fast off of a football pitch."

Her arm fit around him as well, and she kissed his cheek quickly in greeting. "Your mum wanted to talk about the wedding. Turns out you can't really avoid your mother when she wants to talk," she said with a bit of a grimace, as though this were something he would have been totally ignorant of.

"No, that's her particular talent," he agreed. "It's futile, you're best to just let her corner you and be done with it. Wedding stuff sounds a bit boring, though, since all that matters is the whole ... thing, not the wedding itself, I think. Anyway." He flourished the flowers to her. "I got these for you."

Jeremy, whether he always knew it or not, made her face go red on several occasions, and this was no exception. She accepted them and told herself to stop it, after everything they'd done, flowers were certainly no reason to blush. "Thanks," she said.

He felt stupid, so he said, "It's stupid, but I have to do something stupid and romantic at some point because, you know, I'm sort of a horribly absent boyfriend - fiancé - I swear I didn't just forget that we're getting married, because I didn't. I really didn't. I told a few people, even." That sounded even stupider. "I hate not being here with you."

"Well. It's not my favourite part of this entire thing either," she said, absently twirling the stem of one of the flowers between her fingers. She looked up at him, and hoped that hadn't sounded as dismissive as she thought it had once it left her mouth. "Let's go outside to talk," she suggested. "It's nice out."

Jeremy couldn't help but wear the stupid grin that he usually wore when he actually got some time with her. "Yeah. It is." He kissed her cheek. "And no Mum to corner us about the wedding. Brilliant idea, as always."

"It's been known to happen," she said, taking him out the back door this time, squinting slightly in the sunlight. Her flowers in one hand and his hand in the other, she led him to the back of the garden, to a grassy patch along the fence. "So," she said, dropping to the ground, legs crossed.

He sat by her and looked around, in a failed attempt to make this feel somehow less surreal. "So," he repeated, and tried to remember what he was there for, because right now this felt just too right. "Oh. Yeah. I didn't bring anyone today. I wanted to talk to you."

"Yeah," she said, leaning against the fence. "So you said."

"Right. I did. Well, I ... " How was he supposed to put this? "The werewolves are split in three groups at the moment. There's the Den, the unified pack, and a pack run by a female pack leader named Hati." He began to fiddle with a blade of glass. "Hati's not like most pack leaders because she's, well, a female, and she runs her pack by consensus - democratic - and she has wizards on hand to protect her pack. And I went to see her, to enlist her help."

"And what did she say?" she asked, interjecting appropriately.

"Well. Eventually, after intimidating the hell out of me for a bit, she agreed, mostly because of Ben Skoll, great bloke. Anyway, I have to keep sending her information about how long it's going to be until the unified pack declares war on her pack."

Julia tried not to be amused at the image, because there was nothing particularly amusing about it, but something just struck her silly. "Okay."

"Scary woman. Scary, scary woman." Jeremy shook his head. "Fenrir doesn't scare me, but she does. Well, I know Fenrir's weaknesses and I don't know Hati's for certain. The point is ..." This was ludicrous, but he had to try. "The thing is, I can't keep taking my messages there personally, I leave the pack enough to bring the unnameds here. I can't owl, or trust that the post wouldn't be intercepted. I need a messenger who isn't me to take the messages from the Den to Hati's pack house. It's the only way."

She contemplated it. "If you want someone here to go, I'm sure all you need to do is ask them and they'll do it."

"I'm glad you think so." He took a moment to consider, but he had no reason not to ask. "Will you, then?"

For some reason, that took longer to sink into her brain and make sense of than his proposal had. "I'm sorry, you want me to go?"

He nodded. "I want you to go. It would be perfect, they wouldn't follow you, no one's going to suspect you're doing this, and you'll - you're a witch, but you're my witch, they won't suspect you like they'd suspect a witch or like they'd suspect a Den werewolf. You're as close to me as I can get without going there myself. So. I would like you to go."

Everything he said was true, as much as she could figure. "I. Yes. Okay." It didn't sound all that difficult.

Jeremy raised his eyebrows and picked at his blade of grass again. "I'll have to warn them. And you might have to Apparate really very close, because when I tried to approach, Jane broke my nose and trussed me up like a Christmas goose."

"Oh no," Julia answered, and clapped a hand over her mouth to cover her escaping laughter. "I mean. That's awful."

"You're laughing at me. You're laughing that my nose was broke again," he accused, despite rather openly laughing himself.

"Well, not so much the nose breaking," she admitted. "But the overall image was one worthy of amusement."

"I found it funny," he said, conceding the point, "but mostly because my allies are absurdly more prepared than my enemies are, and my enemies just might win anyway."

She lifted a hand to one of his cheeks, and met his eyes. "It has to work," she said. There was no other acceptable outcome.

And that was why he had to send her. She knew that, just as well as he did. He kissed her, and it was all too surreal and ridiculous and it was very difficult for him to just let go. For once, though, he did.

How she ended up flat on her back in the grass, Julia could hardly say, but her pragmatism woke up when she felt a rock digging into her spine and his fingers on the bare skin of her stomach underneath her Holyhead Harpies t-shirt. She broke the kiss, saying, "You know I love you but can we find a more secluded patch of something without rocks in them?"

Jeremy had to wait for that thought to sink in properly before he could say "Oh, right. Yeah. Uh. ... Well, no time to waste."

She laughed and bashed him lightly over the head with her flowers, still clenched in one hand. "Okay, maestro."

"Those flowers," he told her, laughing hard as he tried to speak, "were skillfully acquired from a very classy garden, Julia, have some respect!" He stood and held out his hand to her.

"You took my flowers from someone else's garden," she repeated as he pulled her up from the ground. "You are, if nothing else, the epitome of class, Jeremy."

"Yeah, well..." Jeremy grinned. "I did pick them out myself."

"Bet you had a great selection to choose from, too," she rolled her eyes.

"Well next time on my way back from the madhouse I'll make a detour past the florist," he teased. "Come on."

"I follow you," she teased back, adding a long kiss for good measure.

~*~

In the weeks that passed since their meeting, each of the four went back to their respective works. Jeremy oversaw everything, Skylar and Briony were the eyes and ears among the unnameds, children, and other members of the pack, while Remus stayed in his place in the upper echelons. He did his best to keep things running smoothly, what was of expected of him, and whatever could deflect suspicion from himself or any of the others. It was business as usual for the saboteurs of Fenrir's pack while they waited for the next visit from their Death Eater contact.

Perhaps luckily, they didn't have to wait long. About a week after Jeremy returned from what had appeared to be a favorable if somewhat painful reception at Hati's pack, Yaxley knocked on the door, ignoring the pack children who peeked up at him curiously through the railing. The door opened quicker than he thought it might, showing him Fenrir's second in command. Remus, he thought.

Remus's pulse quickened. Yaxley was here. Things began today. "He's here," he broke in before Yaxley could say anything, and indicated for him to enter the house.

Yaxley did so. "Good. Then I'll see him, I have orders to deliver." He considered himself a patient man, but he was not prepared to wait all day to see a halfbreed like Fenrir Greyback.

God, this was luck. Remus didn't think he'd ever be so happy to see a Death Eater and was unlikely to be so ever again. He glanced in the main room first, mostly devoid of life on the April day, and saw Fenrir at one of the windows that looked to the side of the house. Like he was waiting. "Fenrir," he spoke with deference that hopefully seemed convincing -- it had worked so far. "Yaxley is here."

Fenrir kept his gaze on the window, at first brushing the wolf against his first's, only looking back when that verified his son's opinion of the situation. He wore a wicked grin. "Good," he declared, and approached Remus quickly, enthusiastic. "We'll have blood and new wolves this full moon, by God!"

He wasn't surprised at Fenrir's excitement; it was almost depressing how predictable it was. "I'm sure," he echoed with a small smile, quick as he could manage without making it look nervous.

Fenrir clapped him on the shoulder, hard, and barked a loud laugh before walking into the front hall to find the Death Eater. "Yaxley! You better have something good and tasty for me, wizard, it's been too long." He saw Wesley lurking back and gave him the slightest nod upon catching his eye, turning to the Death Eater with a wide grin.

Even if the werewolf was in jovial disposition, Yaxley retained his tempered disdain. It was not as pronounced as the first time he had visited, but then, he did not relish the idea of having a knife to his throat again. "I have several... somethings," he said. "For the coming month, and times after. The Dark Lord wishes to be less discriminate about how he puts you to use."

That was good news. Oh yes, Fenrir's good feelings about the future that had struck him this day weren't just a flight of fancy. "Do tell," he said. "Bigger targets? No more stringy halfbreeds, some traitorous purebloods to add to my pack?"

"Perhaps some," he conceded in return. "But, no more months in between, waiting. We will continue to point you to our enemies. Some... will simply be for fun." The werewolf considered it fun, it certainly seemed.

"Finally you put me to use! You won't regret it." Fenrir laughed and rested his hand proudly on his first son's shoulder. "I told you the best was to come and here it is," he told Remus, then considered. "Wesley!" he barked, all business.

"Yes, Father." Wesley stalked out from behind Yaxley without hesitation or even consideration of the wizard.

"Where's Laurel?" Fenrir sent Yaxley a weary glance but said nothing. His pack was a priority even above himself, that was the point, wasn't it?

Wesley lowered his head in respect and stepped back, his hand resting near his hidden knife. "I haven't seen her since breakfast, Father."

"Right. Yaxley, let's talk," Fenrir said, all joviality gone then. "Remus, go about your business, you know your orders, Wesley, the children have been left unattended too long. Go." He gestured for Yaxley to follow him upstairs.

Yaxley spared a look but no further words for the placid heir and the zealous, other wolf before following Fenrir up the stairs and out of sight. Remus hadn't noticed, however. He was more focused on what Wesley had said. "You haven't seen Laurel since breakfast," he repeated.

Wesley looked at Remus the moment he spoke, giving him the respect he deserved, and honestly considered the apparent question from the first of the pack. "That's right," he said after a thoughtful moment. "She goes and does things. I haven't seen her."

"Of course," he said, pretending to mull it over briefly. "She spends some time with the unnameds, is all. I mean, not so much as she did when Alecto was around, but..." He trailed off with a look that clearly indicated what that was meant to insinuate.

Wesley wore a look of genuine confusion before the meaning settled. "She is one of them," he agreed slowly. "She always has been."

"Yes," he said. "I mean, she's hardly happy about that, but that can't be helped."

"Without her, we might not be here." Wesley shifted on his feet. "But she is still one of them. And will never be one of us. But she still stands beside our Father." He brushed his hair from his eyes. "Strange, isn't it?"

He uses her and throws her away. And she was always there to be picked up again. It was sad but true. "Strange, and remarkable how... close she can get to Fenrir." He shook his head like he was getting rid of something hardly worth considering. Had he done his damage here? Perhaps. "Anyway."

"Anyway," Wesley agreed, hesitant to leave the conversation at that, but not wanting to interrupt the train of thought of the first. He didn't let the moment slip away, and dared speak up. "Er, Remus."

He hadn't expected he would get out of the conversation quite that easily, but he glanced back at Wesley. "Yes?"

As always, he spoke in his stilted way, but now he gained a touch of formality. "I know the unnameds are your affair, but ... if you want someone to keep an eye on the, er, situation, well, I ... I would be honoured to do so. For the sake of our Father."

He kept a calm countenance, obviously not wanting to arouse suspicion but neither wanting to give Wesley free reign where Jeremy was doing his part. "I have them handled, thank you, Wesley," he said calmly. "But if the occasion should arise... I would need you."

"Yes, of course," Wesley said quickly, "I didn't mean to offend, I only meant to offer some help, of course, I - you know I'm at your service."

"No, no offense taken," he replied just as hastily, hands raised slightly. That was the last thing he needed, honestly. "It... was good of you to offer. Thank you."

"It's the least I can do, Remus." He stepped away, then said haltingly, "Your suspicions might best be given to our Father. If they're valid. Which they are, I'm sure," he added in the same breath, "I only worry. Thank you." He walked off as quickly as he could to see to the children before Remus could reply.

Rory peered out from the crack of the door he was hiding behind, and whispered, "Remus! Remus, is he gone? Gemma, this was a bad idea, this was a really bad idea - "

Gemma's head popped out from under Rory's like a comedy film Remus had once seen with his mother. "It's fine, Rory, nobody saw us except Remus and anyway he's not going to say nothing, right Remus?" she asked as she looked up at him.

"Not going to say anything, Gemma," he corrected her gently as she fell out from behind the closet door. "And I won't say anything, but I don't think hiding in the closets of the pack house and overhearing conversations you shouldn't be listening to is a good way to stay under the radar, you know."

She made a face at him, but then asked, "What's a radar?"

Rory still didn't leave the door as cover. "A radar's a Muggle thing that finds people, 's like a tracking charm. Are you sure we're fine? What if he comes back? He's always trying to herd us kids in like we're blasted sheep or something."

"They are sheep," Gemma muttered, pulling Rory out behind her with all her might.

"Well, so long as you have your wits about you I don't think that you have anything to fear," Remus said.

"What were you talkin' about?" Gemma asked boldly. "Is there going to be more wolves coming?"

"... Perhaps," Remus answered carefully. "It depends. Don't worry about it, just listen to what Skylar tells you to do."

"She tells me to stay out of trouble."

"But of course she doesn't," Rory muttered, and gave Gemma a rebellious look. "Always sneaking around the house, and hiding and trying to listen to things and trying to help him, the one who, well, you know, Skylar listens to? Yeah, it's all him." He gave Remus a pointed look. "I think she likes him."

"Yeah? Well think it all you want," Gemma retorted, but there was a telltale crimson blush rising in her pale cheeks.

"Well, be that as it may, you are a bigger help when you're doing what is asked of you," Remus said, and then lowered his voice so just the three of them could hear. "What we are doing depends on secrecy and discretion, the latter of which you are sorely lacking, Gemma." He touched her wolf briefly to soften the words, but she seemed unabashed.

"Do you hear that, discretion, 's what I told you, Gemma, we have to be discreet and tactful and polite an' all," Rory insisted. "We have to stay out of their way, we can do what he says, like he says tell everyone what we heard you know, about Miss Carrow, but we can't get all underfoot and telling people about the real stuff. Tact. Right, Remus?"

"Right," he said.

"I know that," Gemma said impatiently. "But it's not any fun."

Just what this plan needed, an under aged adrenaline junkie. "It'll be fun when you can go back to your pack, Gem," he told her gently.

Rory was uncharacteristically silent, staring at the ground for a moment at the discussion of home, before he abruptly said, "'kay, going to check with Skylar then," and ran off down the hall.

Devoid of her partner in crime, Gemma was significantly less enthusiastic once Rory disappeared. "He wants to leave," she said. "Since Keith's out there an' all. I think it's harder for him to stay."

"I expect it is," he replied, looking after him before glancing back down at Gemma. "Sometime. You know what you're supposed to do, so go ahead and stick to that. Okay?"

"Okay," she said, and after a moment seemed to emanate a renewed sort of energy that he had not seen from anyone else. "See you later, Remus!" she cheered, and dashed out the front door, ready to play her role.

~*~

May 1981

Lily took her turn staying at home with Harry during an Order meeting, James going alone. Next time, he would stay with Harry and she would go. It was not an ideal arrangement but the best they could manage. James had no family left, the only person she had in her family was her sister and that was less than an option. Though dear Bathilda Bagshot insisted that it was a joy to watch little Harry, and her family didn't visit her nearly often enough, Lily didn't want to impose. So she took her turn while James went.

The Order meeting was short, unhelpful, and went nowhere fast. The only thing they found was that they were becoming incredibly hard-pressed on all sides and extremely short-handed. It was beginning to get demoralising. Once the meeting adjourned and they broke into smaller, separate conversations, Sirius turned to James. "Lily at home with my godson, then?" he asked conversationally.

James grinned at that and pushed his glasses up his nose. "Yeah, Lily's at home with my son," he said with broad arrogance and pride. "Harry Potter, the best thing to hit the world since the dawn of modern Quidditch. So are you coming? Wormtail!" he called to Peter, who was lingering in brief conversation with Benjy Fenwick. "Come on, we're all coming back to my place for a drink. Or two."

Sirius quickly grinned back. "Yeah, right," he agreed, clapping him on the shoulder. "Rough meeting, eh?" He was now blatantly filling time as Peter caught up to them, although filling time had always been a specialty of his.

James grimaced. "Yeah, we're all doing our best and it's still not enough, loads more arse to kick -- right, Pete?" He ruffled Peter's hair with a laugh. "Won't be any trouble, the Death Eaters haven't seen the last of us."

It was the times like this that made Peter's skin crawl, as though they knew and were just waiting for the perfect moment to pin him to a table and yank up his sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark. They were smiling. "Right," he laughed, and the Dark Lord's mastery of Cruciatus sprang to mind, and he forced himself to relax. "You mentioned drinks?"

Sirius gave a short laugh. "Right, Wormtail's got the idea. First things first, Prongs."

James had to get out of here before he could really think about the Moony-shaped hole in their plans. "First drinks, then arsekicking? A fantastic plan, Padfoot, I'm a genius, now let's go!" He Disapparated.

"Sod," Sirius swore, and looked at Peter. "C'mon," he added unnecessarily before disappearing with the whipcrack of Disapparation and reappearing in the front garden of the Potters' house in Godric's Hollow.

Lily heard the Apparation from inside the front room where she was curled up with a book, listening carefully for either signs of intrusion or Harry in the nursery upstairs. She pulled the curtain aside and looked out the window. James, Sirius, and Peter were all easily recognisable, and she waited for a fourth man to appear, but none came. Her relaxed expression immediately changed into worry. News of more werewolf attacks in the last couple months had made her so, and she let her practical side take over. Just because Remus hadn't returned with the three of them didn't mean that he was not all right, it did not mean he was involved in the attacks, it did not mean he hadn't been at the meeting. It did not mean anything except Remus was not there at that moment.

The front door opened and she called softly, "Be quiet you three, Harry finally dropped off about twenty minutes ago and if you wake him, you get to put him back to sleep."

"I know, I know." James didn't even consider the drinks, just sighed and went to find his wife in the front room. "It didn't go well. We need drinks. It was bad," he concluded. "And Remus wasn't there."

Her face changed again, but she pushed it all from the front of her mind. "No matter," she sighed, kissing James and then Sirius and Peter on their cheeks.

"Yeah, no matter," Sirius echoed dryly, already rummaging his way through the liquor cabinet along one wall. "We only hear nothing from him, ever. But no matter."

Peter took a seat and put his head in his hands. "There are a lot of attacks," he said, sounding worried. "They're killing people and we don't hear a word from him."

James turned on Peter immediately and spoke as soon as Peter closed his mouth. "What are you saying?" he said, raising his voice. "If you're going to say something, just say it."

"James, your voice," Lily chided, but her eyes were on Peter.

"I expect that he isn't really saying anything," Sirius said, putting a glass of firewhiskey into James's hand and another into Lily's, who immediately passed hers off to Peter. "But we all know that Remus has been chronically absent, and under suspicious circumstances."

James hurriedly swallowed a gulp of firewhiskey. "That's enough of that," he said, his voice low. You're going to upset Lily. "There are more important things to talk about."

Peter looked into his glass. "All due respect, James, really, but... more important than a spy who could give you away -- give all of us away?"

"He's not spying," Lily said. "We've -- Alice and I have talked about this, since she and Frank were doing everything with the werewolves. And I talked to him."

"All due respect for your superior intellect and all, Lily," Sirius started delicately, "but if he were spying, do you really think he would tell anyone, least of all you or any of us?"

Lily sent Sirius a heavy glare. "I think if he were spying, he wouldn't be doing it of his own accord."

Peter took a long, long drink of firewhiskey, swallowed with a wince, and said, "Lily, just because you don't want it to be true doesn't mean that it isn't."

"And just because Remus is a werewolf doesn't mean he's out attacking people at the full moon and waiting to hand us over," she snapped back. She could make herself believe a lot of things, but after she'd talked to him -- after she'd seen what was behind his eyes and what she had no words for -- she did not believe that if he was a spy he could possibly be doing it of his own volition. "Besides, absent from meetings? Never seeing any of us? It doesn't exactly sound like the attendance record of a vigilant spy."

"Well I think he's too busy biting and killing people now, but if you want to let him into your house, then... then that's your funeral," Peter dared say, and set his glass down on the table hard as though to punctuate his point.

"How can you even say that?" Lily demanded, advancing but feeling a touch on her arm. She spun on Sirius. "WHAT," she hissed, wanting to get across exactly how irritated she was without raising her voice and risking waking Harry.

Sirius was unfazed. Lily angry was not exactly not dangerous, but she had nothing on his mother. "He has a point. Just because you don't want it to be true doesn't mean that it isn't -- or that he's not being used, which is every bit as dangerous to us as doing it willingly."

"And just because he hasn't betrayed us yet doesn't mean he won't betray us," Peter finished, frantically defiant, forcing himself to keep his voice down. "Lily, you're smarter than this!"

James touched Lily's arm and managed to contain his anger just long enough to let Peter finish speaking. "That's enough," he shouted. "This is pointless."

Lily wasn't precisely willing to listen to anything that may or may not have been reason. "I also know Remus, he's not... I just thought you'd be a little more open to the idea that maybe even if you're not keeping in mind that you were friends for so many years, he is." She crossed her arms to keep her hands from shaking. "I'm going upstairs," she finished shortly, and left them in the front room.

There was a tense silence until James downed his firewhiskey and slammed down the glass. "We're best mates," he said, only barely looking in the direction of Sirius and Peter. "We've always been best mates. The four of us. And you two are doing a fuck awful job of it right now." He turned away and went to go find Lily.

Sirius was slightly abashed, although he was far from reconsidering his opinion on the matter. He looked at Peter, and took a drink of his firewhiskey. "You had to know Lily wasn't going to be so keen to hear that. Even if she is smarter than that," he said. "Bit of a blindspot where Moony is concerned, really."

"She always has, always will. I hope I'm wrong," Peter said quickly, and poured himself another glass. "I just ... I don't think I am. Everything else is going so badly, it would just... make sense, wouldn't it?"

"Nothing compared to her blindspot concerning Snivellus," he said with a face indicating exactly what he thought of that. "Or what it was. It's not as though we want it to be true," he said, more to himself than to Peter.

"Yeah, exactly. It's Remus. Moony. Our best mate. It's not our fault that he's acting suspicious." Peter scratched his head. "I dunno, maybe I'm being an idiot."

"Well. It's a point," Sirius said. He was willing to chalk it up to Lily being Muggleborn, having grown up thinking werewolves were a fiction, like vampires, witches, and everything else. Werewolves as a whole were not the best part of the wizarding world, and especially how things were, that was arguably for the best. Sirius had been willing to believe Remus the exception, but if he was not with the wizards, it was increasingly hard to believe he could be on their side.

"Yeah," Peter said, and dared to look over at Sirius. He wore his best worried look. "I was hoping you'd call me an idiot, Sirius. You usually call me an idiot."

"Idiot," he said half-heartedly. Peter lifted his glass to Sirius and then drank, falling silent. Sirius ironically lifted his glass in return and finished the firewhiskey left in his glass. "I'm going to go before Lily discovers we're still here and decides to bite my head off for a midnight snack."

Peter looked into his glass, troubled, and finished his drink. "Be careful," he said, uncertainly.

"Yeah, you too, Wormtail," Sirius said, replacing his glass and leaving by the front door again. He hoped they were wrong about Remus, god he did, but there no sense in taking a chance, even if it was "just" Remus.

Alone, Peter rubbed at his left forearm, and as soon as he was sure Sirius was gone, he departed to leave James and Lily by themselves, to their own discussion. From the doorway he could hear hushed voices in heated discussion, and though it made him sick to realise it, his work was done.