Conversation

Conversation

Conversation: the back-and-forth play of the blades in a fencing match, composed of phrases (phrases d'armes) punctuated by gaps of no blade action.

Remus stood in the shadow of the stone archway that opened into the small ivy-covered courtyard. He had been there for some time watching Annwyl go through her rigorous training routine. She was pushing harder than usual this morning and, after her revelations in the hospital ward just two days before, he imagined he could understand. It had been quite a session and if his leg were in better shape, he might have burned off some of the excess tension in much the same way. Sighing, he shifted his weight on the walking stick Poppy Pomfrey had insisted he take with him as he left the hospital wing that morning.

Annwyl's foil whipped through the air, leaving only swishing noise in its wake. She could envision it leaving behind a trail of an enemy's cut flesh. It was important to move as though she was facing more than just air. It was essential to move as though she was actually connecting with the body of her foe.

Fencing--such an elegant dance, yet so brutal in its implication. She smiled to herself. White attire, ready to be turned red by a sharp piercing blade with no mercy. Thrust, retreat, parry, and thrust again. Annwyl pushed herself until she ached. She needed this outlet, to maintain her focus, to maintain her edge. How fitting, she thought dryly.

Remus, she mused, was not about edge, he was about honor. Honor was what one got from others for self-sacrifice. Honor required that one followed the rules and told the truth, regardless of the consequences. Perhaps it worked within the confines of a school Quidditch match. The real world, however, was a game without rules, and to tie oneself to a code of honor would get one killed sooner than anything would. It was not a good way to play a deadly game.

Annwyl simply thought that if the goal was worth the effort then the path to the goal might involve some lies, some deception, some cruelty. If the goal was important, then one had to accept the consequences.

Remus did not really understand that point, and this was a fundamental difference between them. He could not see how anyone would cheat to achieve a positive end. He thought it impossible for someone to do such a thing. In that, he was rather a child. Annwyl had often thought back to the words of her old Divination teacher who had tried to explain her zodiac alignment. The old witch had said that she had a soul that was not encumbered by the rules and structure of the world.

Two days hence, Annwyl had told the most difficult story of her life... and this time it was a true story. She had tried the Order's way early on, but they had moved too cautiously and too slowly for her. She knew youth had caused her to chafe at the line of command. However, she really believed her instincts better than average, and thought the impromptu response, the chance meeting, the quick decision, was her forte. A lone wolf, she thought icily. That was what she was. Remus was a wolf also, but he fought that part of himself. He struggled against the isolation; he did not turn it to his advantage.

Parry, riposte, and then Passata Sotto. She bent low, hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. She could feel him watching her. She did not want to have the talk that she knew he wanted to have. Not now.

She still had a job to do. Her work was still unfinished. She had to tie up some loose ends, and it would be bloody dangerous work. There were those who could be compromised by her recent actions, and she had some small chance of saving them. It was prudent to do so, but Remus would want her to leave off and let the Order mop it up. Standing here in this tiny ivy-covered courtyard, the world seemed so tame and safe, while she knew it to be otherwise.

She straightened up to face him, still breathing hard.

* * *

In the center of the courtyard, Annwyl executed a lethal-looking lunge and paused, back turned, to catch her breath. Remus wasn't fooled. She was aware of him. He could see the tension in her shoulders as she waited for him to speak. When several tense moments passed with neither moving, she turned to face him at last.

Remus wanted very badly to toss off a light remark about her technique or the weather or, well, anything really, but the dark, guarded look in her eyes made his throat seem oddly choked. He limped forward and, taking her hand, led her to a small stone bench tucked in among some climbing roses. The edges were worn and the corners crumbling, but it would do.

He stared at her hand still gripped in his. With an effort, he released her fingers and turned to face her solemn, questioning eyes. "Wyl, I... I don't know what to say. How could you have taken Voldemort's Mark? I understand you were doing your duty to the Order, but the Mark? You could have vanished and returned to us."

The question in her dark eyes turned to cool calculation. "Remus, it would have been illogical to give away the ground I had made by fleeing just as I was successful in infiltrating the Death Eaters."

"But the Mark... it makes me sick thinking of you enduring that... wickedness. The Order could have found another way." He shuddered, remembering times when the Order had successfully questioned some lesser Death Eaters. The Veratiserum had brought out details that Remus was certain would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life. He'd actually been physically ill not long after she confessed everything and left the hospital wing.

Annwyl sighed. Yes, the ceremony was ugliness itself, but then it was done and she had the entrée into Voldemort's inner circle that none of the Order had, save Snape, whom she never trusted. And yes, the Order could have found another way, but not nearly so effective. She had passed on very valuable information, plus she had been in a position to judge the veracity of Snape's reports. That alone was worthwhile.

"Remus, what do you want from me?" she asked earnestly.

He ran a tired hand over his face. "I don't know...answers perhaps...to understand..."

He broke off as she placed both hands on his chest, leaning up to him. She pressed her lips lightly to his, stifling his sharp intake of breath. As she broke the kiss, pulling back to look up at him, he was uncomfortably aware of the challenge in her action. He nearly missed her next words, the sound of his own racing pulse nearly drowning out her low voice.

"Remus," she said, an edge to her voice, "love me or don't, fight me or don't, trust me or don't. It doesn't matter which you select. I am unlikely to change. We can be together if you wish, but someday I may go. Fate and time will decide."

She saw the confusion and longing on his face. He could never simply react. That was why this would never work. She put a finger to his lips as he searched for the right thing to say. Act, don't talk! she felt like screaming.

She left him sitting there. She was sure he was weighed down by confusion. She saw it all so clearly, making his angst more than a bit confounding. He should be able to see it, too. In any event, she knew she would always have his friendship. If Remus was anything, he was loyal. Another costly virtue, she thought, as she strolled toward her chamber.

* * *

Remus watched her go, his heart in his throat. When she had disappeared through the stone arch, he reached out and plucked a vivid rose from the branch above him, pricking himself on a thorn. He sucked his bleeding thumb meditatively, his eyes still fixed on the arch.

Knowing he shouldn't even be out of his warded chambers, Remus slipped back under the Invisibility Cloak he'd borrowed from Harry and made his way back through the castle as quickly and silently as his injured leg allowed. With a sigh, he closed the heavy door behind him and gratefully sank into the couch opposite his hearth, his eyes closed against the cheerfulness of the crackling fire. Unable to think of anything but Annwyl and the ultimatum she had delivered, he let his thoughts wander back to that miserable autumn when he'd lost her. Not just her, but everyone he'd ever cared for.

* * *

It had been a violent summer with steadily mounting violence and casualties. The Order had been working around the clock for months trying to keep tabs on Death Eater activities. Not a single member of the Order had gone more than a week without at least one skirmish with some of Voldemort's own since late spring. Now, in the middle of October, they were exhausted, and there had been no signs of the situation stabilizing in the least.

Then came the real blow. Word arrived that James and Lily Potter were the special targets of Lord Voldemort himself. Though Dumbledore was being very secretive as to why, Remus knew he'd had a number of quiet talks with the pair. Remus had been away a great deal in recent weeks, running several reconnaissance missions on the homes of prominent Death Eaters in an attempt to locate Voldemort's headquarters, and by the time he was free to return to headquarters, James and Lily had already slipped away, hiding under the protection of the Fidelius Charm. He felt rather guilty that he hadn't been there for them, helping them with the complicated charms and preparations involved in such a plan.

Sirius was working alone now in an attempt to keep attention away from himself and to reduce any risk to the hiding Potters. At first, Remus was hurt that Sirius would go off without a word to him, but as soon as he understood that Sirius was the Secret Keeper, he accepted his friend's actions without question. Even Peter Pettigrew had taken to steering clear of headquarters. It was no secret that any close friend of James and Lily would now become prime targets for Voldemort's "snatch and torture" methods. Remus would have been on the move himself, but the approaching full moon created more pressing issues of concern.

With his friends accounted for, Remus had allowed himself to let go of Order concerns for the few days preceding that full moon. His work had been exhausting and the impending change was physically draining. He needed that time to recoup some strength so as not to be fully incapacitated by the time the moon began to wane. A few draughts of Dreamless Sleep potion and the days slipped by in a blessed blur.

He'd never believed it was possible to feel more battered or depressed after a full moon until he emerged from his locked and warded room at headquarters that morning of the first of November. He found everything and everyone in confusion, and his increasingly frantic requests for information were going unheeded. It was Annwyl who approached him nearly an hour later, taking his hand and leading him into the bleak November garden, her expression no more cheerful than the tattered and browned remains of the summer greenery.

The story she told him was unbelievable. Indeed, he tried at first to deny her words, insisting there must be some mistake, some confusion. James and Lily couldn't be... no, he couldn't even bring himself to say the words. Next came the anger and need for revenge. Who was responsible? What had they done to Sirius to get the information? Where was Sirius now?

He could hardly remember leaving headquarters but he could clearly recall the horror when he finally caught up with the Order members and Ministry Aurors who'd been searching for Sirius. The devastation in the street had been incredible. The Magical Reversal Squad was moving rapidly among the panicked Muggles, obliviating them all. It didn't take long to piece together an account of what had occurred. Sirius was responsible for James, Lily, and now Peter. He'd betrayed and killed and was, even now, on his way to Azkaban.

Remus returned to headquarters in a state of shock and confusion even more profound than when he'd left. The place was empty and he stood for a few moments in the deserted parlor. Unseeing. Unthinking. Then, with a sudden, decidedly wolf-like howl of rage and grief, Remus let go. Books, furniture, pictures from the walls were all scattered and broken in the whirl of his anguish. Torn apart as much by his own hands as his magic.

He never knew how long he kept it up, throwing, cursing, even growling, as his pain and sorrow burst from him. When it was spent at last, he dropped to the floor of the devastated room in exhaustion. Only then did he hear a small sound behind him. Lifting his head and turning, he saw Annwyl. Without a word, she stepped carefully over the debris and came to her knees beside him. Her arms came around him and his head dropped to her shoulder. They stayed that way for what seemed like hours: he, sobbing against her shoulder; and she, rocking him gently.

After that, Remus took to pairing with Annwyl as the Order moved about in the aftermath of Voldemort's disappearance. The remaining Death Eaters were still a threat and in the haze of his grief, Remus wasn't even entirely sure he trusted himself to work alone. Order members were to bring the Death Eaters to the Ministry for trial, alive and unharmed whenever possible. In his current state, he was more likely to curse first and question after. It was much better to stay with a partner, and Annwyl understood his pain.

* * *

Later that night, by the light of her fire and wrapped in a blanket, Annwyl thought back to the two events that defined her relationship with Remus Lupin. She wondered if those events defined her. Memories drifted upward like the rising smoke from the fire. Uncharacteristically restless and bothered by the two deceptions she had worked on him, she felt a need to see him, right now. She swung her feet to the floor, lit her wand, and left her rooms.

* * *

When Bernard Havershaw, an operative in the Ministry, had called nineteen-year-old Annwyl to a secret meeting and asked her if she had what it would take to infiltrate the remnants of the Death Eaters and to put them away, she had agreed to at least hear him out. At first, she believed the assignment would simply involve appearing to change sides, followed by a brief stay within their group. She was not prepared for the discussion of "deep cover" that followed.

Havershaw had a truly ridiculous plan that was sure to get her killed, or worse. After listening to what he had in mind, and what he hoped to accomplish, she warmed to the idea, but decided to completely re-vamp the arrangements. She told Havershaw she would send him a signal right before she went undercover, assuming she decided to do it. An owl with a postcard that had a Muggle stamp affixed to it would arrive at his desk. If he received that signal, he would know she was making her move.

The planning she did over the next three weeks had been intense. It occurred to her that faking her own death would be the best thing. She sought out Wilfred Nott with whom she had fought in school, and convinced the ignorant git that she had done with the Ministry and its pretentious bureaucracy that restricted a witch's 'abilities'. The ignoramus just stood there stupidly nodding his head, never really questioning her. He was eager to bring in a new recruit and agreed to help her arrange the appropriate ruse. If he turned out to be a typical servant of Voldemort, then the entire organization would be easy to bring down. She knew, however, that there were clever and dangerous wizards among Voldemort's minions, and so her quest would perhaps not be as easy as she secretly hoped.

So there they were; Annwyl and Remus, crouched behind a clump of bushes outside a suspected Death Eater compound. Remus believed this was a raid, but Annwyl knew it was the night of her self-imposed exile from the right side of the law. The Order had been watching this spot for several weeks, based on false tips she had planted. The Order believed that tonight they could possibly snare a few of the Dark Lord's inner circle. By tomorrow, all the people she knew would believe her dead. She would begin living a perilous life on the run with the Death Eaters and trying to find ways to stymie them, report on them, and manipulate them out of existence, if possible. She knew it could take a long time. Even years.

The night air was cold and damp, causing Annwyl to shiver. She tried to mentally shake it off. Remus huddled beside her and did what she knew he would do; he wrapped his cloak over her. She felt the immediate warmth of his body and was drawn to accept it and move closer to him. Why not? It was cold and they might need to wait for another hour or more. However, the soldier in her rejected the idea because it made her feel weak somehow. She really didn't need it. She moved as if to look at a new point of interest in the darkness, letting the cape trail off her and onto the ground.

As she waited for the deception to play out, she thought how Remus lived a life of contrast. As a werewolf, he was propelled by his animal instincts. As a man, he was very controlled. She suspected that his human persona was the result of his rebellion against his animal one. She valued control, but only as far as it helped her to see the next opening, the next possibility. If Remus had his way, he would hold her down, perhaps even hold her back. She loved him in her way, but she had determined not to let that direct her actions. She had a vague hope that Remus could appreciate this and accept her as she was. Still, she knew it was unfair to ask him.

The previous evening had been a nightmare. Remus was dancing around the question that he longed to ask and which she dreaded having to answer. It was not that she dreaded the commitment, but she knew what was going to happen tonight, and he had no role in the drama that was going to take her away from everything she knew. She couldn't have her mind clouded by personal concerns as she took this dangerous assignment. She had sent the signal to Havershaw, and that was that. She gritted her teeth.

Annwyl knew how much Remus hurt. He had lost his friends to the whims of the war. Remus had worried her with his raw display of anger at finally accepting the reality of their deaths and the capture of Black. She could never remember seeing him so out of control. She came to understand why, in that moment, he chose to keep his emotions so carefully in check.

At midnight, the charade began. It was all lights and illusion. Annwyl, Remus, and six other Order members huddled in the cold sprang out when the Death Eater group assembled. There were stunning spells and curses sizzling through the air. Wizards were collapsing. Wilfred Nott gave her cover as she pretended to be overcome by a curse. She dropped convincingly to the ground. Then she was hit by an unexpected stunner and knew nothing for several hours.

When she awoke, she discovered that the spell that hit her had been intentional. They hadn't trusted her and this was their way of making sure she was well away from her fellows, and disarmed, before they decided to accept her. It was only one of many tests she endured over the next fifteen years, always having to prove her loyalty to the hideous cause. She had done things she had detested, but she consoled herself with the memory of the Death Eaters she had secretly betrayed, and thereby put into Azkaban. She had done her job; foiling their plots and steadily passing information to the Order. That was all she had to warm her at night.

* * *

He was at her side the night of the raid on the Death Eaters' makeshift headquarters. They had fought with the other Order members and Aurors through what had turned out to be a rather large ambush. Just as they began to get the upper hand, however, Remus turned, searching for Annwyl. He caught sight of her just in time to see her fall and disappear in a blaze of curses. His shouts rose above the din as two other Aurors held him back from running into the torrent of curses still being flung about the room.

The days and weeks that had followed Annwyl's disappearance had been painful in a way he had never fully allowed himself to own. Never having been one to dwell on his hurts, Remus had done his best to bury the losses and resolutely set about rebuilding some semblance of a life. He managed to find some odd jobs in the Wizarding community and rather more steady work in the Muggle world. He had even gone to Dumbledore to request custody of Harry. It was hopeless, he knew, but he felt he owed it to James and Lily to try. Years had slipped by, each one looking very much like the last and then, Sirius had returned, Peter had been found and now...

* * *

The dark corridors of Hogwarts did not allow her mind to wander, but rather focused her thoughts on the life she had led. She had never allowed herself to think about the grief she had left in her wake the night of her phony death. Remus must have felt it keenly. She was confident that the good she had done in the proceeding years had balanced it out. But that hadn't been the end of it, for she had to endure his wrath the night Malfoy had decided to capture him prematurely. Draco had acted before she was ready to manage the situation. The little git almost caused a disaster that she could never have forgiven herself for, nor forgotten.

Four nights ago she had burst in on Remus, whose broad smile had turned to anger as she told him of the plan to kidnap him. Remus had quickly grabbed his cloak and wand and they had sprinted out the hidden passage to the outside. Once they had gained the protection of the tree line, Remus had grabbed her arm hard and held her back.

She was annoyed. "Remus, we need to keep moving," she had warned urgently.

"No," he had replied flatly. "You knew this was the plan, you used me as bait. You knew this was going to happen, that you were going to pretend to give me up to Voldemort. Woman, who do you fancy you are? What makes you feel you can play with the lives of others like a chess master hovering over a bunch of mindless pawns?"

"This is not the time," Annwyl had hissed.

"Let's make it the time, shall we?"

All right she thought, if this is the end, if we die now, but Remus receives his answer then so be it. "What do you want me to say? I've done many things I'm not proud of, but I've saved people who would be dead now if I hadn't."

"So the end justifies the means, Wyl? It's an old idea that every tyrant has spouted. I could never... how can you..."

"Remus," she said, steadying her voice and taking hold of his arms. "I love you too, but I had a chance to do a great good and I had to take it."

He had looked into her eyes and then with the sound of pursuit coming from the castle entrance, he released her, shaking his head and jogged off into the wood. Annwyl watched him go, thinking she might have gone too far this time. She could have confided in Remus. He had never been the enemy. No time to think about it now. She ducked low and angled back and away from the pursuers.

* * *

Some hours later, Remus sat up, rousing himself from the painful memories. Sirius had returned only to be lost again, and this time forever. Peter was found but he was a traitor. And Wyl... Well, that was pretty much up to him now, wasn't it? She'd made her own intentions perfectly clear. At least, it seemed so to him.

Annwyl had never been as straightforward as she appeared on the surface. For all her no-nonsense exterior, Remus was well aware of the restless spirit she kept firmly in check. It was no coincidence that Annwyl had been the one to teach him to fence as a way of controlling his emotions. A few training sessions together and her own struggles to keep herself in check became quite obvious. Remus had been amazed to discover that, in truth, Annwyl was one of the most impetuous people he'd ever known. Only Sirius could outstrip her.

Groaning as much from frustration as from pain and stiffness, Remus rose from the couch and limped over to the low table on the hearth and put a pot of tea to steep. Blast the woman, anyway! He'd spent years learning to live in some sort of calm with his torn past and blank future. That was all in ruins now. The past and future were rising up on either side of him, rocking the tenuous pinpoint on which his peace balanced. He could hold on, waiting to fall into whatever swirling mess Fate had in store, or he could dive in, eyes open wide, and choose his own course for once.

* * *

Now that it was over, all she could think was that life was bittersweet. Some had been lost, some had been saved and now she could resume a life of less danger. Or perhaps not...

* * *

Leaning heavily on his walking stick, Remus took a slow deliberate look around his empty rooms. He chuckled softly to himself. Was he a huge fool? He wanted her, regardless of the terms. Perhaps she'd come to him. If she didn't, would he go to her? He wasn't sure. Limping to the door, he opened it, letting in the coolness of the damp stone corridor.

A silent moment passed and a light step sounded on the threshold. As he knew she would, Annwyl stood, hesitating. With a smile and a sigh of defeat, Remus nodded her in, waving the door shut behind her.

* * *

Remus seemed to have sensed she was coming. The door was standing open, his room softly lit by candles and the glowing embers of a fire, expectant and warm. Remus was standing near the doorway smiling in resignation. Perhaps I've pushed him too far, she thought as she joined him on the divan. He passed her a cup of chamomile tea, which she accepted with a hesitant smile. Perhaps I've been wrong, she thought, to keep him at this emotional arms length. She pulled up her legs, folding them under her, and settled in against him. He put an arm around her and kissed her hair as they stared into the flames.

'Action', so much better than 'words', she thought.