Accidentally In Love part VIII
Jun. 7th, 2005 10:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lls_mutantUrgh. I've had it with this part. I suspect this is how JKR felt when she finished OotP. Oh well.
Part VIII is here! Nicely PG-13, it's a bit of a break from last chapter, I think. The stuff with Queen got cut, but look for it in an outtake, because I was very fond of the scene. And thanks so much to everyone who responded with suggestions on how to rob Westminster Abbey! (Does anyone else wonder if They are watching us now?)
Part VIII- Putting Together Pieces
Sirius was warmth. Warmth around him, protecting him, embracing him, shielding him. Warmth inside him, invading him, flooding him, comforting him. Warm touch, warm hands, warm lips. Warmth and comfort and safety and a word Remus couldn’t put a finger on, not because he didn’t know it but because the implications seemed so much larger than Sirius’s body against his and the bed beneath them so it couldn’t quite fit, could it?
But whatever it was, this was real.
Sirius's arms were both harbor and anchor as they moved together on the waves of gentle passion. Tender kisses and whispered words and soft touches enveloped him until the warmth built to heat and gave way to the light of completion and then left Remus shaking in the circle of Sirius's arms, under that warm, strong body. Sirius's cheek was wet against his, and the words whispered in his ear filled his own eyes with emotion and made them sting: "I thought I'd lost you."
It was the first time they'd made love since the attack, and one of those times that Remus could think of no other words to describe the act. Not that he thought any words frequently, of course, but they were there in his mind as Sirius eased out and laid down beside him. As Remus traced the tear tracks with the tips of his fingers, Sirius’s hand closed loosely around his wrist, his thumb caressing Remus’s fingers.
“I thought I’d lost you,” Sirius whispered again, gathering Remus into his arms and cradling him close. “In the hospital.”
“I feel like you did,” Remus murmured, nestling deeper into the embrace.
“What do you mean?”
And because right then Remus Lupin felt safe, secure, and important, he admitted to Sirius that Dumbledore wanted him to pose a servant to Voldemort, and that today he’d received warning that the Death Eaters were coming tomorrow night.
And once again, Sirius was everything he wanted.
Concerned, angry, and worried. Protective. Understanding. He promised he wouldn’t tell James and Peter, agreed not to throttle Dumbledore, and told Remus that, if someone had to do it, Remus probably was the best choice because he’d do it well. He said Dumbledore was right to have faith in him, and that it had to be done.
Remus closed his eyes, letting Sirius’s voice wash over him and lead him to hidden reserves of strength he didn’t know he had. He could do this.
He would do this.
***
Silence.
That was what ruled the office when Sirius arrived at the Ministry the next morning. A heavy, thick silence that hung over the cubicles, screaming that something was wrong. As Sirius walked to his desk, no one looked up and smiled or said good morning or complained about the hour or hangovers or Doge’s latest orders. Heads were bent over papers, although Shacklebolt wasn’t writing and Alice was tapping her quill against the desk, staring into space. Sirius slipped into his own chair and shrugged off his jacket, extremely worried and irrationally scared.
There was a memo from Doge stating that there was a meeting at ten o’clock in the morning, and all personnel were required to attend. Another hour and a half. Sirius sighed and pulled a case file forward, hoping to distract himself and only finding his mind turning over what Remus had told him last night.
It bothered him. Not the assignment so much, although he felt it was very unfair of Dumbledore. But Remus was a force to be reckoned with. But this silence… it made a man think about the worst. Like they knew. The office hadn’t been like this after the attack on the Lupins. There had been a respectful hush, of course, but the cubicles had hummed with whispered conversations and questions and speculations. But Damien had survived, he reminded himself. He looked around surreptitiously, wondering if there were empty desks today.
There were.
The minutes ticked by, slowly. Finally, people began meandering to the meeting room. Sirius tried to take roll in his head as he looked around the table, but people were shifting and wandering in and standing in groups, and it was hard to account for anyone.
“Good morning.” Doge said, walking in and setting his papers on the table. It was hardly necessary to call the meeting to order. “I’ll get right to the point. Last night, four Aurors were attacked by Death Eaters as they were leaving a pub. All four were killed, presumably by Avada Kedavra. Let us observe a moment of silence for Michael Roan, Patrick O’Brien, Christian Inglish, and Thomas McGraves.”
Sirius bowed his head with the others, shocked. Roan, O’Brien, Inglish, and McGraves had been a tight-knit group of men in their mid-thirties. They weren’t always the most outgoing of people- in fact, Sirius didn’t know them particularly well. But they’d worked together as a unit, and worst of all, they were only ten to fifteen years older than Sirius, James, Remus, and Peter.
It made his blood run cold.
Next to him, Alice fumbled for a tissue in her robe pocket. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Frank’s hand heavy and reassuring on her shoulder. Across the table Ron Edwards was wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, and Christine Kinns had tears streaking her face.
Doge cleared his throat. “I wish that was all the bad news I had,” he said. “But the fact is that the Death Eaters were expecting them. Witnesses say that the four left the pub, and when a group of girls left ten minutes later, they found them.”
“Found them?” Moody asked, his bushy eyebrows raised into his hairline. “What? The Death Eaters just left the bodies in the street?”
“It was a back alley exit,” Doge said, consulting his papers. “The bodies were pushed…” he paused and cleared his throat again, and then finished “into a rubbish heap and behind a dumpster. One girl tripped over a foot.”
A sob was audible.
“Crouch will be by in,” Doge consulted his watch, “ten minutes to discuss this with us all. This will require a new level of security for Aurors. Additionally, Crouch suspects- and I agree- that there may be a leak within the department.”
The sound of a pin dropping would have echoed off the walls of silence within the room.
“The last thing I want to do to is to turn this into the Spanish Inquisition,” Doge said. “But we must be aware that this is a very real possibility. We also must be aware that whoever the informant is, they may not be acting of their own accord. We have proof positive that the Death Eaters are willing to use the Killing Curse and the Cruciatus Curse.” Sirius winced at that. “There’s no reason to assume that they won’t use the Imperius curse as well. So even if someone seems completely trustworthy, and would be under certain circumstances…” he trailed off, leaving the sentence hanging threateningly. Sirius noticed that Ron Edwards looked angry, Christine Kinns was white, and Errol Mulciber was taking notes as fast as he could. Alastor Moody’s eyes were traveling around the table, studying each face as well. Sirius wished he knew what Moody was looking for. How did you know a spy, anyway? Or an informant, or whatever Doge wanted to call it? Was there a way to tell?
Doge flipped through his papers. “Before Crouch gets here, let’s quickly go over the assignments. Kinns and Fenwick, I want to meet with you about tracking a Death Eater that’s gone to Denmark. Moody, I’ve got a lead on one in the outskirts of Sheffield. You’ll be taking Black on this assignment, and I also want you to work with Mulciber and Longbottom. Shacklebolt, Prewett, Braid, and Lane, I want to see you all at one o’clock about some activity on Knockturn. Kesta and Ingl-“ Doge cut himself off, and into the laden silence corrected, “Smith, I’ve got some leads I want some researched. The rest of you, stay on what you’re doing. Got it? Good.”
Moody caught Sirius’s eye. “I’ll see you after the meeting lad, and we’ll go over it all.”
For a moment, Sirius felt safe again.
***
It was an impossibly long day at work.
Remus tried to focus on the dissection he was doing, but even the familiar rhythm of scientific routine couldn’t distract him from the turmoil in his mind. They were coming tonight.
He’d returned to work three days ago, and Caradoc had been surprisingly understanding of what Remus needed. No over-solicitous offers to help, no urging to talk about his grief, no questions or pats on the back saying it would pass or it would be all right. Caradoc simply gave him his instructions each morning, but every day they sat down and had tea together. It wasn’t what Remus had expected of the over-inquisitive, nosy, no-respect-for-personal-boundaries Caradoc, but he was profoundly grateful.
He was just finishing giving Poky his daily injection (making for twenty-seven Poky-bite-free workdays in a row) when Caradoc came out into the main lab.
“Remus,” he began, clearing his throat nervously. “I just want you to know, if you need extra time off, please take it.”
Remus arched his eyebrows. “I’ll be fine,” he said tartly, hoping to head off conversation.
“I know you will. That’s not what I’m worried about.” Caradoc settled on a high stool, his face serious and still. “Dumbledore spoke with me.”
“Oh.” Oddly, he felt relieved.
“It’s not quite fair, is it?” Caradoc asked, picking up a quill and running the feather through his fingers.
“When is war fair?” Remus asked with a shrug.
“The Americans have a saying that it’s an old man’s war and a young man’s fight.”
“I thought it was a rich man’s war and a poor man’s fight.”
“Maybe. But either sentiment is true.”
Remus looked at the lab table. “He’s done a lot for me,” he said finally. “And he did it again. Caradoc, they would have killed me. You know that. You saw that death threat. It’s only because Dumbledore’s been training me for this that I even am doing it. If he hadn’t, I would have died with my mother.” His voice was even on the last word, even as his heart broke and his soul howled with anguish.
Caradoc nodded, and then patted his hand. “Well, I suppose. But if you need time for Order work, please take it. I won’t dock your pay.”
“Caradoc, you can’t-“
“I can and I will. After all, isn’t it my war too?”
“Your war and your fight,” Remus agreed.
Caradoc pursed his lips together. “It should be. Now, have you finished drafting that section for the proposal on the kappa studies?”
“Almost. I have some questions about some of the more obscure background. Can you help me?”
Caradoc dove into a lengthy, detailed discussion and Remus trained his mind on the words. It was the only way he stood a chance of forgetting about tonight.
***
“So what’s important to remember is that Bloom is a tricky bastard. Slippery. Can’t be trusted. Not that you’d need telling about that. Guess a better word is predicted. Can’t be easily predicted.”
“Got it,” Sirius said, glancing over the column of notes that Moody had given him. “And we’re taking Mulciber and Longbottom, right?”
“Right.”
“Anything I should know?”
“Longbottom’s not a bad sort. Bit quiet, but good for the subtle stuff. Mulciber is flashy. Too flashy. Attracts attention where he shouldn’t.”
Sirius nodded. He looked over the notes one more time and then settled back. “We leave tomorrow?”
“First thing.” Moody was shifting through papers, sorting them into a pile. “Damien’s recovering well,” he told Sirius. “He’s done with the cane.”
“I know. Remus and I visited two nights ago. Glad he found a new flat.”
“You’re welcome,” Moody said, with something like a smile.
“Any word on when he’ll be back to work?”
“Tonight. I’m taking him these case studies. He’s bored.”
“When will he be back in action?”
“Saw the Healer today. Two weeks. He’ll still have a limp, but…” Moody shrugged, as if a physical deformity was a very small consequence. Actually, Sirius suspected he might be right, in this case.
“Alastor?”
“Mmm?”
“What did you think of what Crouch said during the meeting today?”
“Crouch says lots of things, lad. Which one did you have in mind?”
Sirius threaded his fingers together and rested his elbows on his knees. “About potentially authorizing Aurors to use Unforgivables against Death Eaters.”
Moody snorted. “Might as well give us all hoods and cloaks then. The ends don’t justify the means.”
Sirius nodded. He wasn’t sure if he agreed or not, but he was sure he didn’t want to say he didn’t. “Anything else, sir?”
“No, I think that’s all. First thing tomorrow morning.”
“All right.” Sirius stood up. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He left the Ministry, shivering in the early dark of the autumn evening. He couldn’t go home yet; Remus would let him know when it was safe. He decided to go to James and Lily’s place instead.
The flat James and Lily shared was in one of the better areas of London. It was small but nice, with thick carpets and huge windows and cozily decorated. Sirius would never admit to Lily’s face just how much he liked it, especially since he knew James’s taste in decorating ran to Quidditch posters and milk crate furniture. He might like Lily just fine, but she didn’t need to be told that too often. It made her head swell.
James was the one who answered his knock, and Sirius felt much lighter as soon as he saw his best friend’s smile. “Hey Prongs,” he said, leaning against the door with his arms crossed. “Any chance that you could feed a mangy, starving dog some dinner?”
“What is it, lover’s quarrel?” James teased, but with only a drop of the bitterness his voice might have held a few weeks ago.
Sirius snorted. “Nah. Moony’s working late tonight,” he said breezily, surprised at how easily the lie (well, sort of lie) floated off his tongue. “But there is something I want to talk to you about.”
The news of the day waited until after Lily had served pot roast and potatoes and then left the pair of them in the kitchen to do the dishes. “What’s on your mind, Padfoot?” James asked, up to his elbows in soapy water.
“Why don’t you just use magic?” Sirius asked.
“Because Lily likes me to do it the Muggle way.” James handed Sirius a plate, which he promptly charmed dry. “What’s going on?”
Sirius told him about the deaths in the department, and the possibility there was an informant. “It’s disturbing,” he admitted, as James glanced over his shoulder and cast a furtive scouring charm at the roasting pan. “I mean, for an Auror to go over to Voldemort….”
“Do you think one really went?” James asked. “Or is it just Imperius?” He chuckled dryly. “’Just Imperius’, I say. It’s a sad day when an Unforgivable Curse seems like the better option.”
“It is,” Sirius agreed. “But it’s… well, I guess what I wanted to ask is would you really be aware of what you were doing if someone put the curse on you? Would you remember what you did?”
James nodded. “I see your point, and you would… if they let you. Remember that book we had to read for History of Magic? About Grindewald’s rise to power? He used Imperius, and some people did claim they sort of remembered doing things, but one person said that people who were subjected to the curse often had their memories charmed?”
“Guess that makes sense.” Sirius liked that thought even less. “I’m not sure which seems more far-fetched though. I mean, I prefer the idea of someone being cursed in a way, because at least then….”
“It’s not a betrayal,” James finished. “Yeah, I can see what you mean. On the other hand…”
“It’s too convenient and nice and neat and believing in fairy-tale endings,” Sirius sighed. “Things are getting desperate.”
“Things never will get that desperate,” James said, his face fixed in a grim mask.
“Not for you, maybe, and definitely not for me,” Sirius said. But he thought of Remus telling him it had been easy to pretend. “What if they threatened to kill Lily though?”
“Lily would rather die than have me join the Death Eaters to save her,” James said with absolute conviction.
Sirius suddenly wondered if Remus’s mother had felt that way, too.
“Come on,” James said, shaking his head. “We’re only winding ourselves up worse. Come in the living room and we’ll have some beers and get Lily to serve us dessert and then play Exploding Snap with us.”
Sirius followed obediently.
***
Remus supposed he’d been expecting green smoke and fanfare, more torture, more pain. What he got instead was a knock on the door.
He answered it with trepidation, and only found three Death Eaters standing there.
Well, that was something.
What do you say to Death Eaters? “Won’t you come in and have some tea?” really seemed inappropriate, as did “may I take your cloak?” He stepped aside, wordlessly, watching the three robed figures walk into the flat.
They all wore black robes. Black robes and strange white masks that hid their faces, making them seem like nightmares from an ancient Greek play. Remus studied them carefully. One was a woman; he could tell from the shape of her hands and the carefully filed nails. The other two were men; a tall one with exceedingly hairy knuckles and broad shoulders, the other more slender and with aristocratic, finely formed hands and a ring bearing the Black crest.
Perhaps there was some relief in that as well.
“Sit,” the tall one commanded, and Remus obeyed. “You have sworn your service to Voldemort,” he continued, and Remus nodded, although privately he thought ‘had your service exacted out of you via torture’ was a far more accurate description of events. “It is time to put your words into action.”
It would be so much easier not to laugh if the Death Eater didn’t insist on talking like someone out of a bad Muggle action movie, Remus thought. Not, of course, that this was a laughing matter.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked.
“The Westminster Abbey. You know it?”
“Of course.”
The Death Eater waved his wand and a scroll materialized. “There is a stone called the Stone of Scone. It is under the Coronation Chair in a chapel. The Dark Lord has a need for it. You will get it. Understood?”
“And if I don’t?” Remus asked cautiously.
“We can find your father quite easily,” the Death Eater said, his eyes lighting up behind that mask. Beyond him, the Death Eater that was Regulus shook his head once, emphasizing the words, not denying them. “Do we need to do that?”
“No,” Remus said, his throat suddenly dry. “That’s not necessary.”
“Good. One of our agents will meet you at the Abbey at five o’clock tomorrow night. Be ready.”
They left. The spokesman and the woman swept out, as if Remus had ceased to exist, and Regulus followed in their wake. He hesitated, just for a second, with his hand on the door, but he was gone before Remus could say a word.
Not that he expected differently, really.
He was surprised to find that his legs were trembling and his robe was wet with sweat. He took a few deep breaths, just enough to pull himself together, and then fumbled for a parchment and quill to send a message to Sirius before he went to shower and change.
***
Sirius had never been more relieved in his life to get that owl. “Moony?” James asked when Sirius collapsed back against the Potters’ fuzzy blue sofa.
“Yeah. Just wondering where I am. Well, you two crazy kids have been fun, but I should go,” Sirius said, standing up and stretching.
“Give Remus our love,” Lily said.
“And a nice hard-“
“James!” Lily exclaimed, backhanding him in the chest.
Sirius just grinned, and stepped into the fireplace.
The flat was just as he’d left it that morning, except for the Prophet left over here and a plate with half a sandwich over there. He glanced around, seeing no bloodstains on the carpet and no shattered glass on the floors. Just a flat.
“Moony?”
A door opened and Remus came down the hall, wearing nothing but pajama bottoms. His hair was wet and tousled from the shower and the dampness still clung to his chest. “You all right?” Sirius asked.
“Yeah. Fine,” Remus said with a smile that didn’t ring true, but then how could it? Sirius would feel the same way, if it had been him. He wrapped an arm around Remus, guiding him into the kitchen to sit at the table.
“Did you eat?”
“Not yet.”
“Thought that might be the case. You sit. I’ll make a sandwich.”
“Sirius-“
“Please.” Sirius turned around, trying to mutely tell Remus he knew, he understood, and he wasn’t going to force anything. The message was received, and Remus’s shoulders slumped from their tense posture.
“I was just going to say no mustard.” Remus grinned weakly at him as Sirius glanced back over his shoulder. “How was your day?”
“Bloody miserable,” Sirius said, and launched into a long description that lasted until well after Remus was done eating. It didn’t change anything, of course, but he felt even better than he had after confiding in James.
“So anyway, I’m going to be gone tomorrow night and possibly the day after,” Sirius finished. “I have to go with Moody to Sheffield.”
“That’s fine. I’ve got something going tomorrow night myself.” Remus grimaced, but then pushed it away and arched an eyebrow. “You know, I owe you for making me a sandwich.”
“You do,” Sirius agreed, amused.
“And if we won’t see each other for a few days, it’s best if I pay up now.”
“Very admirable of you, Mr. Moony.”
“Isn’t it though?” Remus caught his hand and began pulling Sirius to the bedroom. “Come on. Let’s make the most of tonight.”
***
By five o’clock Remus sat on a bench outside the Abbey, dressed in Muggle jeans and two sweatshirts and eating an apple he'd bought. Not that he really had an appetite, but it gave his hands something to do.
Regulus had suddenly appeared beside him, wearing thick, warm robes of what looked like soft wool and blowing on gloved hands. Remus hadn’t seen Regulus in years. He’d grown much taller, whippet thin and with sharp, high cheekbones and his black hair cropped close to his head. The style and his face accentuated ice blue eyes and haughty expression, and Remus thought he couldn’t look less like Sirius if he tried.
"Why are you dressed like that?" Regulus demanded, eyeing Remus’s jeans with loathing.
"Far less conspicuous," Remus explained.
Regulus snorted. "Muggles don't notice us anyway."
"It's not Muggles I'm worried about noticing me," Remus snapped. "So this is your way of helping me? Arranging for me to break into the Westminster Abbey and steal something?"
"Yes," Regulus said, eyes meeting Remus's squarely for the first time ever. "They originally wanted you as part of a raid on a family of half-bloods. I convinced them that you were better brains than brawn. It took some doing."
Remus rolled his eyes. "And the difference is?"
Regulus returned the gesture. "You don't have to kill anyone."
"I just make it possible for them to kill more people."
"That's one way to look at it, but I'd rather not. Look, I did the best I could. Believe me, it was this or that."
"Thank you then, I guess" Remus relented with a sigh. "And in return?"
"We work together. If we pull this off, they'll keep us on assignments like this. Otherwise, it's back to plunder, pillage and rape."
Remus cringed. "Not your forte?" Regulus fixed him with an icy glare. It was an expression his face was particularly well suited for. Remus held up his hands. “Fine. I’m sorry.”
“Look. You don’t like me, and I assure you, the feeling is more than mutual.”
“Did it ever occur to you that might be why I don’t like you?” Remus cursed himself silently. Regulus had a way of getting under his skin within seconds.
“I never bothered to care,” Regulus said, with the simple air of truth. “You’re a Mud- a halfblood and a faggot, and now I know you’re a werewolf as well.”
“Then why are you helping me?” Remus demanded.
Regulus sighed and sank down on the bench, suddenly looking very young. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I won’t pretend I wanted to. In fact, I actually volunteered to go along when I found out they were going to your house, and I knew what was going to happen. But when I was there, it bothered me. It’s bothered me before, lots of times. But I never knew the people.”
Remus sat down beside him. “What did you expect?”
“I’m not sure,” Regulus admitted. “Maybe something like Slytherin, where we sat around and talked about things. Or getting into the Ministry and making laws. Or at least something quick and painless, and just people who deserved it. Not this.” He shook himself. “Look. It doesn’t matter what I expected. The fact is I’m here, you’re here, and we’ve got a job to do. If we do it right, it’s better for both of us, and nothing else matters.”
“If you say so,” Remus muttered, but he stood up and scanned the building. “So what’s the plan?”
“Plan? They’re Muggles. We’re wizards. How much of a plan do we need?”
Remus stifled a sigh and some choice sharp words about the importance of plans. Just like Sirius… willing to rush in without thinking. He studied the people around carefully.
“Why don’t we just Apparate in and back out?” Regulus asked.
“Been inside enough to know exactly where you’re going?”
“No.”
“Me neither, and I don’t fancy ending up in a wall. Do you think any wizards have put protection spells on the Abbey?”
“You’d know better than me,” Regulus pointed out. “It’s your side that would do it.”
“Not really. Anyone could have done it. Anyone who felt that the Abbey should be protected.”
“So what do we do?”
“Let me think.”
“There’s security guards. We could knock two out, steal their uniforms, and sneak in that way.”
“Regulus,” Remus sighed, trying to be patient. “Have you been sneaking into the Muggle cinema?”
Regulus had the grace to flush. “It could work,” he insisted stubbornly. “There are guards around.”
“Fair point,” Remus conceded. He sighed.
“Or a monk,” Regulus mused.
Remus shook his head. “They’ll know each other.”
“They’ll know the security guards, too. If we do the monk thing we can keep our faces covered with hoods."
“Because they wear hoods indoors.”
“Look-“
“Sorry! Okay. How about this. You transfigure your robes to look like the robes the monks wear. We’ll say I lost my camera and you’re escorting me in.”
“Um, genius?” Regulus said, pointing to a “no photography allowed” sign. “I don’t think that’s the best idea.”
“Well, what you suggest then?”
Regulus smiled slyly. “Wedding ring. You lost your wedding ring. Anyone would be upset over that.”
“All right then. Let’s go.”
***
Sirius was crouched behind a dustbin in Sheffield, trying to staunch the flow of blood from a nasty cut on his upper thigh. It wasn’t dangerous, but it was annoying, and it was going to make running hard. “Tricky bastard” were the words that Moody had used to describe Bloom. Tricky, slippery, and unpredictable. He’d forgotten ruthless, dangerous, and a bloody good shot with a wand. Sirius checked the wound again, and pressed the compress back down. Shit.
Across the way, Frank Longbottom was settled against a brick wall, panting and wiping his face with his robe. Sirius glanced over his shoulder, saw Moody still fighting Bloom and his cohorts and no sign of Mulciber, so he stayed where he was. Moody was retreating, leading the Death Eaters to a trap, and crossing the way would most certainly give the whole thing away.
The alley stunk, Sirius thought with the calm that came during lulls like this. Rancid with garbage and rotten banana peels, and there were cigarette butts stubbed out on the dingy pavement. Disgusting. He checked his leg again.
Something hit him from the side in a painless impact. It sent him reeling mentally, although his body didn’t really move except to relax. A voice in his ears said, “Cross the alleyway.”
Sirius struggled to his feet. The leg still hurt, but not like it had before. He took a few steps and peered around the corner.
Moody was getting closer.
“Cross it.”
Sirius stepped out into the alley.
There was a spurt of swearing and bright lights flashing, and Sirius jumped back. What on Earth…?
Nearby, someone swore, and his leg throbbed in pain.
“Fine. Just kill him.”
That unreal, dreamy feeling intensified. Sirius raised his wand.
But how do you kill a wizard?
He didn’t know the Killing Curse, not really. He could drop something on him, crush him perhaps. Or maybe use the Entrail Expelling curse- he knew that one. But what wouldn’t be blocked?
And why was he thinking this anyway?
“Kill him!” the voice insisted. “Kill him now!”
Sirius shook his head, clapping a bloody hand to his forehead. Something was wrong… this couldn’t be right. He had no reason to want to kill Frank. He pulled his eyes open and looked across the alley. Frank was looking at him as if he were crazy, crouched with his wand at the ready, poised to spring because the trap was about to snap shut and Moody was almost there, and the Death Eaters were probably ready for them-
“KILL HIM NOW!”
Sirius dropped to his knees, arms over his splitting head as the voice echoed off the walls of his skull. Then something exploded, and the world went dark.
***
They entered the Abbey with ease, once they got started. (Regulus needed to be reminded that at his young age, he’d better stick to highly unornamented robes, but aside from that, his Transfiguration was better than Remus had been expecting.) A security guard stopped them, but Regulus explained that this was his older brother and he’d lost his wedding ring and was in mortal danger from his wife, and the security guard had chuckled and let them through.
“I can’t believe you pulled that off,” Remus hissed when they were out of earshot.
Regulus shrugged cockily. “I’m good.”
“We’ll see. Let’s get this stupid stone. Which way to the Chapel of Edward the Confessor?”
“Are you sure it’s there?”
“Yes. It’s in the Coronation Chair.”
“How do you know?”
“The stone spoke to me in my dreams. I looked it up,” Remus snapped. “Let’s go.”
They found their way with little effort, and fortunately no services were in progress. The Muggle part of Remus wondered ironically at the interference of God, but he shut that up immediately. “Okay,” he whispered. “Let’s get spells on the doors.”
Regulus locked the doors, and Remus laid quick distraction spells on them. They wouldn’t hold long, but then, they wouldn’t need long.
“It’s in the chair?” Regulus said, studying it carefully. “Wow. Look at this. I’ve never seen so much graffiti.”
“The chair of kings, and schoolboys carve their names on it,” Remus chuckled, well aware that if they had ever toured Westminster Abbey there would be a clear MWPP on the back of the chair as well (or, if Sirius had his way, the front).
Regulus sniffed. “Disrespect.”
“The chair is meant for Muggle kings,” Remus pointed out with amusement. “It’s kind of ugly, isn’t it? Very plain, old wood…”
Regulus sniffed again. “True aristocracy doesn’t require ostentation. So this is it? This big block of stone under the seat?”
“I guess so.” Remus aimed his wand. “Let’s miniaturize it and get out of here.”
“Wait,” Regulus said. “I’ll miniaturize it. You Transfigure something else to look like it. If the Muggles know it’s gone….”
“Good point.” Remus looked around and found a hymnal. He wasn’t sure that the job would fool someone who knew every crevice of the stone, but it was pretty close. “Hurry up.”
“I can’t!” Regulus said. “I can’t miniaturize it!”
“What? Here, let me.” Remus might have been skeptical to start, but the stone resisted his efforts to miniaturize it as well. “Shit. I knew this was too easy.”
“How do we get it out? It’s too big to carry.”
“Some way that someone didn’t think of.” Remus tried Transfiguring it, but no luck there, either.
“Use a Switching spell and switch it with a hymnal?” Regulus suggested frantically.
No luck.
“We’ll have to carry it. Can we levitate it?”
Regulus tried. “Nope. Okay. Two guys carrying out something heavy. How do we cover that?”
“We don’t,” Remus sighed, hitting his forehead as the obvious occurred to him. “We just make a Portkey and get out of here.”
***
“Sirius. Sirius!”
Sirius opened his eyes, and then promptly shut them again as tiny house-elves with hammers played a complicated rhythm against the inside of his skull.
“Well, he’s alive,” a voice boomed.
“Much good it’ll do him when I get a hold of him. BLACK!”
“Fuck off,” he mumbled. “And stop shouting.”
“Moody, I think he’s really hurt.”
“Well, he should be. Bloody idiot. Don’t know what he was thinking-“
“That’s just the problem,” a smooth voice said. “What was he thinking?”
“Mulciber, shut up. Let’s get him back to the Ministry, or even better, to St. Mungo’s.”
“Not St. Mungo’s!” Sirius’s eyes flew open and he closed them as the light hit, regretting it intensely. “Murdering bastards there.”
“What?” The smooth voice. Mulciber, he reminded himself. And the boomer must be Longbottom.
“Murdering bastards,” Sirius groaned, trying to put his hand to his head. “Almost killed Remus just ‘cause he’s a werewolf.”
“I still don’t get it,” Mulciber muttered.
“Doesn’t matter. Longbottom, go to Dumbledore. Tell him to get an Alex Sommers, and send him to my house. I’ll take care of Black tonight. Mulciber, get back to the Ministry and report to Doge.”
There were two cracks, and then Sirius heard Moody muttering. “Elphias, it’s me. I’ve got Bloom and a couple of cronies under custody. Get Lupin, Kinns, and Shacklebolt down here right away to take them in. I’m sending Mulciber back to you. Keep him there until I get back. Longbottom went for a Healer; Black’s down and won’t let me take him to Mungo’s. Better this way anyway- I’ve got some questions for him.”
There was a faint response. “I’ve got it.”
Sirius cracked open his eyes to see the strange sight of Moody speaking into something he held in his hand. It almost looked like a card like the ones that came with Chocolate Frogs. Some part of his brain wondered if it had been spelled the same way he and James had spelled those mirrors so long ago. Huh. Wonder what had happened to those… they had to be around somewhere… funny that they didn’t use them so much these days….
There were voices and shouting and someone was hovering over him, gentle and concerned and anxious. They were batted away- Sirius’s mind didn’t quite focus on it enough, and it didn’t matter right now anyway, not with the way things were swirling….
Someone’s hands were on him and he jerked forward, and he blacked out again.
***
Whoever had laid spells on the Stone of Scone was either a.) an idiot, b.) didn’t REALLY care if the Stone got stolen, c.) was planning on stealing it himself and allowed for some way to get the Stone out of the building, or d.) was born before Portkeys were invented. Either way, Remus and Regulus found themselves sprawled in Remus and Sirius’s flat with the Stone of Scone between them and a crumpled missive in Remus’s hand.
“Wow.” Regulus struggled to right himself.
“Yeah. Wow,” Remus echoed.
“We did it, didn’t we?”
Remus looked at the large stone. “Our parents would be so proud,” he muttered. “So now what?”
“Can we Transfigure it here?” Regulus wondered, and tried miniaturizing it. The Stone shrunk to half its size. “Good. I’ll take it to the Death Eaters.”
Remus nodded, not exactly sure what to say to that.
“I’ll get in touch with you. I also told them they’d be best of contacting you through owl, given that you live with an Auror.”
Remus leaned back on his hands, watching as Regulus stood up and dusted himself off. “Do they expect me to get rid of Sirius?”
“No, actually. I told them you two were, um….” Regulus blushed at Remus’s arched eyebrow. “Well, I told them you were a faggot and that you and my brother were… you’re not, are you?”
“I suspect you don’t really ant to know the answer to that.”
Regulus’s face contorted with disgust. “I’ll owl,” he said, and with that Disapperated. Remus wasn’t sorry to see him go.
He wished Sirius was home, but in a way it was for the best. He’d just completed his first successful mission for the enemy. It left him with a dirty, unpleasant, nauseated feeling, and an undeniable feeling of loathing. Perhaps it was best that Sirius wasn’t here.
With a deep sigh, he lit the fire to Floo to Dumbledore’s office to report in person.
Link to Part 2 of Part VIII
Part VIII is here! Nicely PG-13, it's a bit of a break from last chapter, I think. The stuff with Queen got cut, but look for it in an outtake, because I was very fond of the scene. And thanks so much to everyone who responded with suggestions on how to rob Westminster Abbey! (Does anyone else wonder if They are watching us now?)
Part VIII- Putting Together Pieces
Sirius was warmth. Warmth around him, protecting him, embracing him, shielding him. Warmth inside him, invading him, flooding him, comforting him. Warm touch, warm hands, warm lips. Warmth and comfort and safety and a word Remus couldn’t put a finger on, not because he didn’t know it but because the implications seemed so much larger than Sirius’s body against his and the bed beneath them so it couldn’t quite fit, could it?
But whatever it was, this was real.
Sirius's arms were both harbor and anchor as they moved together on the waves of gentle passion. Tender kisses and whispered words and soft touches enveloped him until the warmth built to heat and gave way to the light of completion and then left Remus shaking in the circle of Sirius's arms, under that warm, strong body. Sirius's cheek was wet against his, and the words whispered in his ear filled his own eyes with emotion and made them sting: "I thought I'd lost you."
It was the first time they'd made love since the attack, and one of those times that Remus could think of no other words to describe the act. Not that he thought any words frequently, of course, but they were there in his mind as Sirius eased out and laid down beside him. As Remus traced the tear tracks with the tips of his fingers, Sirius’s hand closed loosely around his wrist, his thumb caressing Remus’s fingers.
“I thought I’d lost you,” Sirius whispered again, gathering Remus into his arms and cradling him close. “In the hospital.”
“I feel like you did,” Remus murmured, nestling deeper into the embrace.
“What do you mean?”
And because right then Remus Lupin felt safe, secure, and important, he admitted to Sirius that Dumbledore wanted him to pose a servant to Voldemort, and that today he’d received warning that the Death Eaters were coming tomorrow night.
And once again, Sirius was everything he wanted.
Concerned, angry, and worried. Protective. Understanding. He promised he wouldn’t tell James and Peter, agreed not to throttle Dumbledore, and told Remus that, if someone had to do it, Remus probably was the best choice because he’d do it well. He said Dumbledore was right to have faith in him, and that it had to be done.
Remus closed his eyes, letting Sirius’s voice wash over him and lead him to hidden reserves of strength he didn’t know he had. He could do this.
He would do this.
***
Silence.
That was what ruled the office when Sirius arrived at the Ministry the next morning. A heavy, thick silence that hung over the cubicles, screaming that something was wrong. As Sirius walked to his desk, no one looked up and smiled or said good morning or complained about the hour or hangovers or Doge’s latest orders. Heads were bent over papers, although Shacklebolt wasn’t writing and Alice was tapping her quill against the desk, staring into space. Sirius slipped into his own chair and shrugged off his jacket, extremely worried and irrationally scared.
There was a memo from Doge stating that there was a meeting at ten o’clock in the morning, and all personnel were required to attend. Another hour and a half. Sirius sighed and pulled a case file forward, hoping to distract himself and only finding his mind turning over what Remus had told him last night.
It bothered him. Not the assignment so much, although he felt it was very unfair of Dumbledore. But Remus was a force to be reckoned with. But this silence… it made a man think about the worst. Like they knew. The office hadn’t been like this after the attack on the Lupins. There had been a respectful hush, of course, but the cubicles had hummed with whispered conversations and questions and speculations. But Damien had survived, he reminded himself. He looked around surreptitiously, wondering if there were empty desks today.
There were.
The minutes ticked by, slowly. Finally, people began meandering to the meeting room. Sirius tried to take roll in his head as he looked around the table, but people were shifting and wandering in and standing in groups, and it was hard to account for anyone.
“Good morning.” Doge said, walking in and setting his papers on the table. It was hardly necessary to call the meeting to order. “I’ll get right to the point. Last night, four Aurors were attacked by Death Eaters as they were leaving a pub. All four were killed, presumably by Avada Kedavra. Let us observe a moment of silence for Michael Roan, Patrick O’Brien, Christian Inglish, and Thomas McGraves.”
Sirius bowed his head with the others, shocked. Roan, O’Brien, Inglish, and McGraves had been a tight-knit group of men in their mid-thirties. They weren’t always the most outgoing of people- in fact, Sirius didn’t know them particularly well. But they’d worked together as a unit, and worst of all, they were only ten to fifteen years older than Sirius, James, Remus, and Peter.
It made his blood run cold.
Next to him, Alice fumbled for a tissue in her robe pocket. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Frank’s hand heavy and reassuring on her shoulder. Across the table Ron Edwards was wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, and Christine Kinns had tears streaking her face.
Doge cleared his throat. “I wish that was all the bad news I had,” he said. “But the fact is that the Death Eaters were expecting them. Witnesses say that the four left the pub, and when a group of girls left ten minutes later, they found them.”
“Found them?” Moody asked, his bushy eyebrows raised into his hairline. “What? The Death Eaters just left the bodies in the street?”
“It was a back alley exit,” Doge said, consulting his papers. “The bodies were pushed…” he paused and cleared his throat again, and then finished “into a rubbish heap and behind a dumpster. One girl tripped over a foot.”
A sob was audible.
“Crouch will be by in,” Doge consulted his watch, “ten minutes to discuss this with us all. This will require a new level of security for Aurors. Additionally, Crouch suspects- and I agree- that there may be a leak within the department.”
The sound of a pin dropping would have echoed off the walls of silence within the room.
“The last thing I want to do to is to turn this into the Spanish Inquisition,” Doge said. “But we must be aware that this is a very real possibility. We also must be aware that whoever the informant is, they may not be acting of their own accord. We have proof positive that the Death Eaters are willing to use the Killing Curse and the Cruciatus Curse.” Sirius winced at that. “There’s no reason to assume that they won’t use the Imperius curse as well. So even if someone seems completely trustworthy, and would be under certain circumstances…” he trailed off, leaving the sentence hanging threateningly. Sirius noticed that Ron Edwards looked angry, Christine Kinns was white, and Errol Mulciber was taking notes as fast as he could. Alastor Moody’s eyes were traveling around the table, studying each face as well. Sirius wished he knew what Moody was looking for. How did you know a spy, anyway? Or an informant, or whatever Doge wanted to call it? Was there a way to tell?
Doge flipped through his papers. “Before Crouch gets here, let’s quickly go over the assignments. Kinns and Fenwick, I want to meet with you about tracking a Death Eater that’s gone to Denmark. Moody, I’ve got a lead on one in the outskirts of Sheffield. You’ll be taking Black on this assignment, and I also want you to work with Mulciber and Longbottom. Shacklebolt, Prewett, Braid, and Lane, I want to see you all at one o’clock about some activity on Knockturn. Kesta and Ingl-“ Doge cut himself off, and into the laden silence corrected, “Smith, I’ve got some leads I want some researched. The rest of you, stay on what you’re doing. Got it? Good.”
Moody caught Sirius’s eye. “I’ll see you after the meeting lad, and we’ll go over it all.”
For a moment, Sirius felt safe again.
***
It was an impossibly long day at work.
Remus tried to focus on the dissection he was doing, but even the familiar rhythm of scientific routine couldn’t distract him from the turmoil in his mind. They were coming tonight.
He’d returned to work three days ago, and Caradoc had been surprisingly understanding of what Remus needed. No over-solicitous offers to help, no urging to talk about his grief, no questions or pats on the back saying it would pass or it would be all right. Caradoc simply gave him his instructions each morning, but every day they sat down and had tea together. It wasn’t what Remus had expected of the over-inquisitive, nosy, no-respect-for-personal-boundaries Caradoc, but he was profoundly grateful.
He was just finishing giving Poky his daily injection (making for twenty-seven Poky-bite-free workdays in a row) when Caradoc came out into the main lab.
“Remus,” he began, clearing his throat nervously. “I just want you to know, if you need extra time off, please take it.”
Remus arched his eyebrows. “I’ll be fine,” he said tartly, hoping to head off conversation.
“I know you will. That’s not what I’m worried about.” Caradoc settled on a high stool, his face serious and still. “Dumbledore spoke with me.”
“Oh.” Oddly, he felt relieved.
“It’s not quite fair, is it?” Caradoc asked, picking up a quill and running the feather through his fingers.
“When is war fair?” Remus asked with a shrug.
“The Americans have a saying that it’s an old man’s war and a young man’s fight.”
“I thought it was a rich man’s war and a poor man’s fight.”
“Maybe. But either sentiment is true.”
Remus looked at the lab table. “He’s done a lot for me,” he said finally. “And he did it again. Caradoc, they would have killed me. You know that. You saw that death threat. It’s only because Dumbledore’s been training me for this that I even am doing it. If he hadn’t, I would have died with my mother.” His voice was even on the last word, even as his heart broke and his soul howled with anguish.
Caradoc nodded, and then patted his hand. “Well, I suppose. But if you need time for Order work, please take it. I won’t dock your pay.”
“Caradoc, you can’t-“
“I can and I will. After all, isn’t it my war too?”
“Your war and your fight,” Remus agreed.
Caradoc pursed his lips together. “It should be. Now, have you finished drafting that section for the proposal on the kappa studies?”
“Almost. I have some questions about some of the more obscure background. Can you help me?”
Caradoc dove into a lengthy, detailed discussion and Remus trained his mind on the words. It was the only way he stood a chance of forgetting about tonight.
***
“So what’s important to remember is that Bloom is a tricky bastard. Slippery. Can’t be trusted. Not that you’d need telling about that. Guess a better word is predicted. Can’t be easily predicted.”
“Got it,” Sirius said, glancing over the column of notes that Moody had given him. “And we’re taking Mulciber and Longbottom, right?”
“Right.”
“Anything I should know?”
“Longbottom’s not a bad sort. Bit quiet, but good for the subtle stuff. Mulciber is flashy. Too flashy. Attracts attention where he shouldn’t.”
Sirius nodded. He looked over the notes one more time and then settled back. “We leave tomorrow?”
“First thing.” Moody was shifting through papers, sorting them into a pile. “Damien’s recovering well,” he told Sirius. “He’s done with the cane.”
“I know. Remus and I visited two nights ago. Glad he found a new flat.”
“You’re welcome,” Moody said, with something like a smile.
“Any word on when he’ll be back to work?”
“Tonight. I’m taking him these case studies. He’s bored.”
“When will he be back in action?”
“Saw the Healer today. Two weeks. He’ll still have a limp, but…” Moody shrugged, as if a physical deformity was a very small consequence. Actually, Sirius suspected he might be right, in this case.
“Alastor?”
“Mmm?”
“What did you think of what Crouch said during the meeting today?”
“Crouch says lots of things, lad. Which one did you have in mind?”
Sirius threaded his fingers together and rested his elbows on his knees. “About potentially authorizing Aurors to use Unforgivables against Death Eaters.”
Moody snorted. “Might as well give us all hoods and cloaks then. The ends don’t justify the means.”
Sirius nodded. He wasn’t sure if he agreed or not, but he was sure he didn’t want to say he didn’t. “Anything else, sir?”
“No, I think that’s all. First thing tomorrow morning.”
“All right.” Sirius stood up. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He left the Ministry, shivering in the early dark of the autumn evening. He couldn’t go home yet; Remus would let him know when it was safe. He decided to go to James and Lily’s place instead.
The flat James and Lily shared was in one of the better areas of London. It was small but nice, with thick carpets and huge windows and cozily decorated. Sirius would never admit to Lily’s face just how much he liked it, especially since he knew James’s taste in decorating ran to Quidditch posters and milk crate furniture. He might like Lily just fine, but she didn’t need to be told that too often. It made her head swell.
James was the one who answered his knock, and Sirius felt much lighter as soon as he saw his best friend’s smile. “Hey Prongs,” he said, leaning against the door with his arms crossed. “Any chance that you could feed a mangy, starving dog some dinner?”
“What is it, lover’s quarrel?” James teased, but with only a drop of the bitterness his voice might have held a few weeks ago.
Sirius snorted. “Nah. Moony’s working late tonight,” he said breezily, surprised at how easily the lie (well, sort of lie) floated off his tongue. “But there is something I want to talk to you about.”
The news of the day waited until after Lily had served pot roast and potatoes and then left the pair of them in the kitchen to do the dishes. “What’s on your mind, Padfoot?” James asked, up to his elbows in soapy water.
“Why don’t you just use magic?” Sirius asked.
“Because Lily likes me to do it the Muggle way.” James handed Sirius a plate, which he promptly charmed dry. “What’s going on?”
Sirius told him about the deaths in the department, and the possibility there was an informant. “It’s disturbing,” he admitted, as James glanced over his shoulder and cast a furtive scouring charm at the roasting pan. “I mean, for an Auror to go over to Voldemort….”
“Do you think one really went?” James asked. “Or is it just Imperius?” He chuckled dryly. “’Just Imperius’, I say. It’s a sad day when an Unforgivable Curse seems like the better option.”
“It is,” Sirius agreed. “But it’s… well, I guess what I wanted to ask is would you really be aware of what you were doing if someone put the curse on you? Would you remember what you did?”
James nodded. “I see your point, and you would… if they let you. Remember that book we had to read for History of Magic? About Grindewald’s rise to power? He used Imperius, and some people did claim they sort of remembered doing things, but one person said that people who were subjected to the curse often had their memories charmed?”
“Guess that makes sense.” Sirius liked that thought even less. “I’m not sure which seems more far-fetched though. I mean, I prefer the idea of someone being cursed in a way, because at least then….”
“It’s not a betrayal,” James finished. “Yeah, I can see what you mean. On the other hand…”
“It’s too convenient and nice and neat and believing in fairy-tale endings,” Sirius sighed. “Things are getting desperate.”
“Things never will get that desperate,” James said, his face fixed in a grim mask.
“Not for you, maybe, and definitely not for me,” Sirius said. But he thought of Remus telling him it had been easy to pretend. “What if they threatened to kill Lily though?”
“Lily would rather die than have me join the Death Eaters to save her,” James said with absolute conviction.
Sirius suddenly wondered if Remus’s mother had felt that way, too.
“Come on,” James said, shaking his head. “We’re only winding ourselves up worse. Come in the living room and we’ll have some beers and get Lily to serve us dessert and then play Exploding Snap with us.”
Sirius followed obediently.
***
Remus supposed he’d been expecting green smoke and fanfare, more torture, more pain. What he got instead was a knock on the door.
He answered it with trepidation, and only found three Death Eaters standing there.
Well, that was something.
What do you say to Death Eaters? “Won’t you come in and have some tea?” really seemed inappropriate, as did “may I take your cloak?” He stepped aside, wordlessly, watching the three robed figures walk into the flat.
They all wore black robes. Black robes and strange white masks that hid their faces, making them seem like nightmares from an ancient Greek play. Remus studied them carefully. One was a woman; he could tell from the shape of her hands and the carefully filed nails. The other two were men; a tall one with exceedingly hairy knuckles and broad shoulders, the other more slender and with aristocratic, finely formed hands and a ring bearing the Black crest.
Perhaps there was some relief in that as well.
“Sit,” the tall one commanded, and Remus obeyed. “You have sworn your service to Voldemort,” he continued, and Remus nodded, although privately he thought ‘had your service exacted out of you via torture’ was a far more accurate description of events. “It is time to put your words into action.”
It would be so much easier not to laugh if the Death Eater didn’t insist on talking like someone out of a bad Muggle action movie, Remus thought. Not, of course, that this was a laughing matter.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked.
“The Westminster Abbey. You know it?”
“Of course.”
The Death Eater waved his wand and a scroll materialized. “There is a stone called the Stone of Scone. It is under the Coronation Chair in a chapel. The Dark Lord has a need for it. You will get it. Understood?”
“And if I don’t?” Remus asked cautiously.
“We can find your father quite easily,” the Death Eater said, his eyes lighting up behind that mask. Beyond him, the Death Eater that was Regulus shook his head once, emphasizing the words, not denying them. “Do we need to do that?”
“No,” Remus said, his throat suddenly dry. “That’s not necessary.”
“Good. One of our agents will meet you at the Abbey at five o’clock tomorrow night. Be ready.”
They left. The spokesman and the woman swept out, as if Remus had ceased to exist, and Regulus followed in their wake. He hesitated, just for a second, with his hand on the door, but he was gone before Remus could say a word.
Not that he expected differently, really.
He was surprised to find that his legs were trembling and his robe was wet with sweat. He took a few deep breaths, just enough to pull himself together, and then fumbled for a parchment and quill to send a message to Sirius before he went to shower and change.
***
Sirius had never been more relieved in his life to get that owl. “Moony?” James asked when Sirius collapsed back against the Potters’ fuzzy blue sofa.
“Yeah. Just wondering where I am. Well, you two crazy kids have been fun, but I should go,” Sirius said, standing up and stretching.
“Give Remus our love,” Lily said.
“And a nice hard-“
“James!” Lily exclaimed, backhanding him in the chest.
Sirius just grinned, and stepped into the fireplace.
The flat was just as he’d left it that morning, except for the Prophet left over here and a plate with half a sandwich over there. He glanced around, seeing no bloodstains on the carpet and no shattered glass on the floors. Just a flat.
“Moony?”
A door opened and Remus came down the hall, wearing nothing but pajama bottoms. His hair was wet and tousled from the shower and the dampness still clung to his chest. “You all right?” Sirius asked.
“Yeah. Fine,” Remus said with a smile that didn’t ring true, but then how could it? Sirius would feel the same way, if it had been him. He wrapped an arm around Remus, guiding him into the kitchen to sit at the table.
“Did you eat?”
“Not yet.”
“Thought that might be the case. You sit. I’ll make a sandwich.”
“Sirius-“
“Please.” Sirius turned around, trying to mutely tell Remus he knew, he understood, and he wasn’t going to force anything. The message was received, and Remus’s shoulders slumped from their tense posture.
“I was just going to say no mustard.” Remus grinned weakly at him as Sirius glanced back over his shoulder. “How was your day?”
“Bloody miserable,” Sirius said, and launched into a long description that lasted until well after Remus was done eating. It didn’t change anything, of course, but he felt even better than he had after confiding in James.
“So anyway, I’m going to be gone tomorrow night and possibly the day after,” Sirius finished. “I have to go with Moody to Sheffield.”
“That’s fine. I’ve got something going tomorrow night myself.” Remus grimaced, but then pushed it away and arched an eyebrow. “You know, I owe you for making me a sandwich.”
“You do,” Sirius agreed, amused.
“And if we won’t see each other for a few days, it’s best if I pay up now.”
“Very admirable of you, Mr. Moony.”
“Isn’t it though?” Remus caught his hand and began pulling Sirius to the bedroom. “Come on. Let’s make the most of tonight.”
***
By five o’clock Remus sat on a bench outside the Abbey, dressed in Muggle jeans and two sweatshirts and eating an apple he'd bought. Not that he really had an appetite, but it gave his hands something to do.
Regulus had suddenly appeared beside him, wearing thick, warm robes of what looked like soft wool and blowing on gloved hands. Remus hadn’t seen Regulus in years. He’d grown much taller, whippet thin and with sharp, high cheekbones and his black hair cropped close to his head. The style and his face accentuated ice blue eyes and haughty expression, and Remus thought he couldn’t look less like Sirius if he tried.
"Why are you dressed like that?" Regulus demanded, eyeing Remus’s jeans with loathing.
"Far less conspicuous," Remus explained.
Regulus snorted. "Muggles don't notice us anyway."
"It's not Muggles I'm worried about noticing me," Remus snapped. "So this is your way of helping me? Arranging for me to break into the Westminster Abbey and steal something?"
"Yes," Regulus said, eyes meeting Remus's squarely for the first time ever. "They originally wanted you as part of a raid on a family of half-bloods. I convinced them that you were better brains than brawn. It took some doing."
Remus rolled his eyes. "And the difference is?"
Regulus returned the gesture. "You don't have to kill anyone."
"I just make it possible for them to kill more people."
"That's one way to look at it, but I'd rather not. Look, I did the best I could. Believe me, it was this or that."
"Thank you then, I guess" Remus relented with a sigh. "And in return?"
"We work together. If we pull this off, they'll keep us on assignments like this. Otherwise, it's back to plunder, pillage and rape."
Remus cringed. "Not your forte?" Regulus fixed him with an icy glare. It was an expression his face was particularly well suited for. Remus held up his hands. “Fine. I’m sorry.”
“Look. You don’t like me, and I assure you, the feeling is more than mutual.”
“Did it ever occur to you that might be why I don’t like you?” Remus cursed himself silently. Regulus had a way of getting under his skin within seconds.
“I never bothered to care,” Regulus said, with the simple air of truth. “You’re a Mud- a halfblood and a faggot, and now I know you’re a werewolf as well.”
“Then why are you helping me?” Remus demanded.
Regulus sighed and sank down on the bench, suddenly looking very young. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I won’t pretend I wanted to. In fact, I actually volunteered to go along when I found out they were going to your house, and I knew what was going to happen. But when I was there, it bothered me. It’s bothered me before, lots of times. But I never knew the people.”
Remus sat down beside him. “What did you expect?”
“I’m not sure,” Regulus admitted. “Maybe something like Slytherin, where we sat around and talked about things. Or getting into the Ministry and making laws. Or at least something quick and painless, and just people who deserved it. Not this.” He shook himself. “Look. It doesn’t matter what I expected. The fact is I’m here, you’re here, and we’ve got a job to do. If we do it right, it’s better for both of us, and nothing else matters.”
“If you say so,” Remus muttered, but he stood up and scanned the building. “So what’s the plan?”
“Plan? They’re Muggles. We’re wizards. How much of a plan do we need?”
Remus stifled a sigh and some choice sharp words about the importance of plans. Just like Sirius… willing to rush in without thinking. He studied the people around carefully.
“Why don’t we just Apparate in and back out?” Regulus asked.
“Been inside enough to know exactly where you’re going?”
“No.”
“Me neither, and I don’t fancy ending up in a wall. Do you think any wizards have put protection spells on the Abbey?”
“You’d know better than me,” Regulus pointed out. “It’s your side that would do it.”
“Not really. Anyone could have done it. Anyone who felt that the Abbey should be protected.”
“So what do we do?”
“Let me think.”
“There’s security guards. We could knock two out, steal their uniforms, and sneak in that way.”
“Regulus,” Remus sighed, trying to be patient. “Have you been sneaking into the Muggle cinema?”
Regulus had the grace to flush. “It could work,” he insisted stubbornly. “There are guards around.”
“Fair point,” Remus conceded. He sighed.
“Or a monk,” Regulus mused.
Remus shook his head. “They’ll know each other.”
“They’ll know the security guards, too. If we do the monk thing we can keep our faces covered with hoods."
“Because they wear hoods indoors.”
“Look-“
“Sorry! Okay. How about this. You transfigure your robes to look like the robes the monks wear. We’ll say I lost my camera and you’re escorting me in.”
“Um, genius?” Regulus said, pointing to a “no photography allowed” sign. “I don’t think that’s the best idea.”
“Well, what you suggest then?”
Regulus smiled slyly. “Wedding ring. You lost your wedding ring. Anyone would be upset over that.”
“All right then. Let’s go.”
***
Sirius was crouched behind a dustbin in Sheffield, trying to staunch the flow of blood from a nasty cut on his upper thigh. It wasn’t dangerous, but it was annoying, and it was going to make running hard. “Tricky bastard” were the words that Moody had used to describe Bloom. Tricky, slippery, and unpredictable. He’d forgotten ruthless, dangerous, and a bloody good shot with a wand. Sirius checked the wound again, and pressed the compress back down. Shit.
Across the way, Frank Longbottom was settled against a brick wall, panting and wiping his face with his robe. Sirius glanced over his shoulder, saw Moody still fighting Bloom and his cohorts and no sign of Mulciber, so he stayed where he was. Moody was retreating, leading the Death Eaters to a trap, and crossing the way would most certainly give the whole thing away.
The alley stunk, Sirius thought with the calm that came during lulls like this. Rancid with garbage and rotten banana peels, and there were cigarette butts stubbed out on the dingy pavement. Disgusting. He checked his leg again.
Something hit him from the side in a painless impact. It sent him reeling mentally, although his body didn’t really move except to relax. A voice in his ears said, “Cross the alleyway.”
Sirius struggled to his feet. The leg still hurt, but not like it had before. He took a few steps and peered around the corner.
Moody was getting closer.
“Cross it.”
Sirius stepped out into the alley.
There was a spurt of swearing and bright lights flashing, and Sirius jumped back. What on Earth…?
Nearby, someone swore, and his leg throbbed in pain.
“Fine. Just kill him.”
That unreal, dreamy feeling intensified. Sirius raised his wand.
But how do you kill a wizard?
He didn’t know the Killing Curse, not really. He could drop something on him, crush him perhaps. Or maybe use the Entrail Expelling curse- he knew that one. But what wouldn’t be blocked?
And why was he thinking this anyway?
“Kill him!” the voice insisted. “Kill him now!”
Sirius shook his head, clapping a bloody hand to his forehead. Something was wrong… this couldn’t be right. He had no reason to want to kill Frank. He pulled his eyes open and looked across the alley. Frank was looking at him as if he were crazy, crouched with his wand at the ready, poised to spring because the trap was about to snap shut and Moody was almost there, and the Death Eaters were probably ready for them-
“KILL HIM NOW!”
Sirius dropped to his knees, arms over his splitting head as the voice echoed off the walls of his skull. Then something exploded, and the world went dark.
***
They entered the Abbey with ease, once they got started. (Regulus needed to be reminded that at his young age, he’d better stick to highly unornamented robes, but aside from that, his Transfiguration was better than Remus had been expecting.) A security guard stopped them, but Regulus explained that this was his older brother and he’d lost his wedding ring and was in mortal danger from his wife, and the security guard had chuckled and let them through.
“I can’t believe you pulled that off,” Remus hissed when they were out of earshot.
Regulus shrugged cockily. “I’m good.”
“We’ll see. Let’s get this stupid stone. Which way to the Chapel of Edward the Confessor?”
“Are you sure it’s there?”
“Yes. It’s in the Coronation Chair.”
“How do you know?”
“The stone spoke to me in my dreams. I looked it up,” Remus snapped. “Let’s go.”
They found their way with little effort, and fortunately no services were in progress. The Muggle part of Remus wondered ironically at the interference of God, but he shut that up immediately. “Okay,” he whispered. “Let’s get spells on the doors.”
Regulus locked the doors, and Remus laid quick distraction spells on them. They wouldn’t hold long, but then, they wouldn’t need long.
“It’s in the chair?” Regulus said, studying it carefully. “Wow. Look at this. I’ve never seen so much graffiti.”
“The chair of kings, and schoolboys carve their names on it,” Remus chuckled, well aware that if they had ever toured Westminster Abbey there would be a clear MWPP on the back of the chair as well (or, if Sirius had his way, the front).
Regulus sniffed. “Disrespect.”
“The chair is meant for Muggle kings,” Remus pointed out with amusement. “It’s kind of ugly, isn’t it? Very plain, old wood…”
Regulus sniffed again. “True aristocracy doesn’t require ostentation. So this is it? This big block of stone under the seat?”
“I guess so.” Remus aimed his wand. “Let’s miniaturize it and get out of here.”
“Wait,” Regulus said. “I’ll miniaturize it. You Transfigure something else to look like it. If the Muggles know it’s gone….”
“Good point.” Remus looked around and found a hymnal. He wasn’t sure that the job would fool someone who knew every crevice of the stone, but it was pretty close. “Hurry up.”
“I can’t!” Regulus said. “I can’t miniaturize it!”
“What? Here, let me.” Remus might have been skeptical to start, but the stone resisted his efforts to miniaturize it as well. “Shit. I knew this was too easy.”
“How do we get it out? It’s too big to carry.”
“Some way that someone didn’t think of.” Remus tried Transfiguring it, but no luck there, either.
“Use a Switching spell and switch it with a hymnal?” Regulus suggested frantically.
No luck.
“We’ll have to carry it. Can we levitate it?”
Regulus tried. “Nope. Okay. Two guys carrying out something heavy. How do we cover that?”
“We don’t,” Remus sighed, hitting his forehead as the obvious occurred to him. “We just make a Portkey and get out of here.”
***
“Sirius. Sirius!”
Sirius opened his eyes, and then promptly shut them again as tiny house-elves with hammers played a complicated rhythm against the inside of his skull.
“Well, he’s alive,” a voice boomed.
“Much good it’ll do him when I get a hold of him. BLACK!”
“Fuck off,” he mumbled. “And stop shouting.”
“Moody, I think he’s really hurt.”
“Well, he should be. Bloody idiot. Don’t know what he was thinking-“
“That’s just the problem,” a smooth voice said. “What was he thinking?”
“Mulciber, shut up. Let’s get him back to the Ministry, or even better, to St. Mungo’s.”
“Not St. Mungo’s!” Sirius’s eyes flew open and he closed them as the light hit, regretting it intensely. “Murdering bastards there.”
“What?” The smooth voice. Mulciber, he reminded himself. And the boomer must be Longbottom.
“Murdering bastards,” Sirius groaned, trying to put his hand to his head. “Almost killed Remus just ‘cause he’s a werewolf.”
“I still don’t get it,” Mulciber muttered.
“Doesn’t matter. Longbottom, go to Dumbledore. Tell him to get an Alex Sommers, and send him to my house. I’ll take care of Black tonight. Mulciber, get back to the Ministry and report to Doge.”
There were two cracks, and then Sirius heard Moody muttering. “Elphias, it’s me. I’ve got Bloom and a couple of cronies under custody. Get Lupin, Kinns, and Shacklebolt down here right away to take them in. I’m sending Mulciber back to you. Keep him there until I get back. Longbottom went for a Healer; Black’s down and won’t let me take him to Mungo’s. Better this way anyway- I’ve got some questions for him.”
There was a faint response. “I’ve got it.”
Sirius cracked open his eyes to see the strange sight of Moody speaking into something he held in his hand. It almost looked like a card like the ones that came with Chocolate Frogs. Some part of his brain wondered if it had been spelled the same way he and James had spelled those mirrors so long ago. Huh. Wonder what had happened to those… they had to be around somewhere… funny that they didn’t use them so much these days….
There were voices and shouting and someone was hovering over him, gentle and concerned and anxious. They were batted away- Sirius’s mind didn’t quite focus on it enough, and it didn’t matter right now anyway, not with the way things were swirling….
Someone’s hands were on him and he jerked forward, and he blacked out again.
***
Whoever had laid spells on the Stone of Scone was either a.) an idiot, b.) didn’t REALLY care if the Stone got stolen, c.) was planning on stealing it himself and allowed for some way to get the Stone out of the building, or d.) was born before Portkeys were invented. Either way, Remus and Regulus found themselves sprawled in Remus and Sirius’s flat with the Stone of Scone between them and a crumpled missive in Remus’s hand.
“Wow.” Regulus struggled to right himself.
“Yeah. Wow,” Remus echoed.
“We did it, didn’t we?”
Remus looked at the large stone. “Our parents would be so proud,” he muttered. “So now what?”
“Can we Transfigure it here?” Regulus wondered, and tried miniaturizing it. The Stone shrunk to half its size. “Good. I’ll take it to the Death Eaters.”
Remus nodded, not exactly sure what to say to that.
“I’ll get in touch with you. I also told them they’d be best of contacting you through owl, given that you live with an Auror.”
Remus leaned back on his hands, watching as Regulus stood up and dusted himself off. “Do they expect me to get rid of Sirius?”
“No, actually. I told them you two were, um….” Regulus blushed at Remus’s arched eyebrow. “Well, I told them you were a faggot and that you and my brother were… you’re not, are you?”
“I suspect you don’t really ant to know the answer to that.”
Regulus’s face contorted with disgust. “I’ll owl,” he said, and with that Disapperated. Remus wasn’t sorry to see him go.
He wished Sirius was home, but in a way it was for the best. He’d just completed his first successful mission for the enemy. It left him with a dirty, unpleasant, nauseated feeling, and an undeniable feeling of loathing. Perhaps it was best that Sirius wasn’t here.
With a deep sigh, he lit the fire to Floo to Dumbledore’s office to report in person.
Link to Part 2 of Part VIII
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Date: 2005-06-08 03:46 am (UTC)xoxo
Evra
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Date: 2005-06-08 07:07 pm (UTC)Thanks for the beta comments- I appreciate it!
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Date: 2005-06-08 10:37 am (UTC)Well, anyway, quickly on to Part 2. This is great!
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Date: 2005-06-08 07:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-08 06:46 pm (UTC)What a wonderful beginning.
Interesting - so he tells Sirius about the double-identity he's been asked to do.
“What is it, lover’s quarrel?”
Good for James. :D
He took a few deep breaths, just enough to pull himself together, and then fumbled for a parchment and quill to send a message to Sirius before he went to shower and change.
The DEs wouldn't be watching him somehow, to make sure he didn't betray them?
“Kill him!” the voice insisted. “Kill him now!”
Ack. Well, Sirius wanted to know what it was like to be under Imperio...
Wonderful job with the theft, with Sirius' mission, and with continuing to build the tension.
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Date: 2005-06-08 07:11 pm (UTC)Interesting - so he tells Sirius about the double-identity he's been asked to do.
Yeah, that surprised me, too. Every time I've done the spy theory on paper Remus couldn't tell. But he did tell, and he gave me some good rationaliztions for it. So I decided to trust him :)
Good for James. :D
I'm a firm believer in once James decided it was time to come around, he acted on it fully. He might still be a little uncomfortable, but he loves them both dearly and he's determined he's going to accept this. (Plus, now Sirius has actually TALKED to him about it....)
The DEs wouldn't be watching him somehow, to make sure he didn't betray them?
They probably are. But if Remus's owl was intercepted, it probably read something like, "Sirius- my guests are gone. Come on home. -Remus", or possibly something even more innocuous than that. He certainly didn't say "Death Eaters gone! Whoohoo! Can you believe they fell for it?", so....
Thanks :)
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Date: 2005-06-08 09:13 pm (UTC)