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lls_mutantFIC UPDATE!!! FINALLY!
Title: Accidentally In Love, part 10
Rating: PG-13 for this part
Disclaimer: standard
Notes: Um, yeah. Sorry it's been so long. Between the baby and HBP, I've been a little distracted. JKR threw a pretty big wrench in the works with HBP. Not with Remus or Sirius, mind you, but I'd always written Regulus off as unimportant. While he's much more fun now, I really had to reevaluate this part and the next part. Hope it was worth the wait, and Part 11 will not be nearly as long in coming. (The baby is still here, but I won't have to reevaluate the freaking plot.)
Accidentally In Love Part X: Breaking Points
"How are you doing?" Alice asked Sirius as she gathered papers off the table.
"Me? Sirius asked, surprised. "Absolutely fine, except I'm not looking forward to chasing down this bastard." He poked the case file with his wand. "You're the one we should be worried about." He reached out and patted her stomach solely so Alice would scowl and bat his hand away. He grinned at her.
"Piss off. I meant… how are you really doing?"
"Thank you for that clarification, Temptress."
Alice scowled at him. "With the attack on the Quidditch stadium, idiot."
"Oh. I've got a few leads, but it's not like we're just chasing down one or two Death Eaters this time. They were all in on it, weren't they?" Sirius said with a scowl.
"But the Potters… I know they were like parents to you."
Sirius grimaced. Grief was a new emotion to him, and one that he was not entirely comfortable with. "I'm fine," he said, forcing a smile. "After all, they weren't my parents. They were James's."
"But-"
"I mean, technically, both of my parents are still alive, right? It's not like what James has to go through, or Lily, for that matter. Or Peter. His dad died when we were all fourth years, you know. Or Remus, who lost his Mum just a year ago. So I'm really quite all right." The faked cheerfulness in his tone made his voice high-pitched and cracked. "So believe me, Alice, I'm fine."
"Right," she said, backing off. "I can see that, Sirius."
He smiled at her again, although this time it was more genuine. "I'll be fine, Alice," he reassured her. "Don't worry about it. I'm holding everything together."
"I know you are."
***
Remus had always hated going to the Werewolf Registry Office for those bimonthly updates, and now that he dealt almost exclusively with Macnair, it was nearly unbearable. But Macnair had been more valuable than Remus had anticipated, and the Order had been able to thwart three minor attacks and one major one. So, distasteful as it was, Remus could accept it. But that didn’t mean he had to enjoy doing it.
He hadn’t expected anything unusual today, which was why he was so surprised when, after the obligatory questions and the addition of two minor regulations to the Werewolf Code of Conduct, Macnair handed him a sheaf of parchment.
“Here are your travel papers,” he said.
“Travel papers?” Remus said, finding it hard to speak against the lump in his throat and the unwelcome surge in his stomach.
“Yes. I am afraid they are rather thick, but the Soviet Union is a bit, well…” Macnair grinned wryly.
“Regulated,” Remus finished, his hand reaching out.
“Very much so,” Macnair agreed.
Remus stared down at the pile of papers, bound together with a gleaming silver clip, stamped and signed and declaring that Remus Lupin, werewolf, had clearance to travel to Leningrad.
“Wait a minute,” he said slowly. “I’m not going to Leningrad.”
“Yes, you are,” Macnair said, flashing another smile. “I’ve also been asked to give you this.” He handed Remus a sealed scroll, with the Dark Mark stamped into the wax. “You should be pleased. These orders come from very high up indeed.”
Remus nodded, probing for exactly how high up. To his absolute delight, he managed to get a clear picture and a voice he recognized as Lucius Malfoy. Macnair didn’t seem to notice. “The Dark Lord must be very pleased with you, because this is an assignment I didn’t expect him to delegate to… well, to you and…” Macnair waved a hand, leaning back comfortably. “I didn’t expect it. But you’ve done well.”
Remus nodded again and stared back at the papers. “So we’re to go to Leningrad…” he said, his voice trailing off in wonder.
“Yes. You’ve not been there before, have you?”
“No. Never. But…” it was unfolding fast, the implications. The Soviet Union had such a terrible reputation, but such a fascinating history, and he’d seen pictures. And if Voldemort’s pattern was like it usually was, their mission would take them to a museum at least, but more likely a historical landmark. Maybe the Winter Palace. Maybe the Kirov Palace. Maybe….
“Well then, if you don’t have any more questions?” Macnair prompted, and Remus looked up suddenly, tearing his mind away from the visions he was conjuring.
“No, I think I understand. Thank you.”
Macnair inclined his head. “No. The Dark Lord thanks you.”
***
“Leningrad?” Sirius said, his voice barely strained down from a shout. “You’re going to Leningrad?”
“Yes.” Remus was darning a pair of gloves. Leningrad would be cold, even now in early spring. “What?”
“Just… what’s the Werewolf Registry have to say about this?”
“Macnair was the one who handed me the orders. So I’d say they’re fine with it.”
“Do border guards know they are?” Sirius asked sarcastically.
“I would think that’s what the papers are for, Sirius. To tell them. I’ve told you before, it’s not unheard of for werewolves to get permission to travel for certain purposes. Alphard traveled all the time.”
Sirius opened his mouth to argue, but shut it abruptly. Remus sighed, tying off the thread and looking mournfully at the clumsy job he’d done. Sirius stalked to the window, staring out it angrily.
He looked different, Remus realized, setting the glove down slowly. His hair was mussed and he hadn’t shaved in two days, and there was something more. There was some frenetic energy that made him seem to vibrate, even as he stood motionless at the window. “What is it?” he asked.
“Does Dumbledore know you’re going?” Sirius said, the words clipped as he stared out the window.
Remus grinned wryly. “Yes. Actually, it’s funny you mention that.”
Sirius turned to face him. “Why?”
“According to Dumbledore, the object Voldemort wants isn’t nearly as powerful as he thinks.” Remus chuckled. “Kind of comforting, really, to realize that he is fallible.”
“What does he want?”
“A reliquary of Rasputin’s. Dumbledore laughed when I told him.”
“He laughed. It’s unimportant, it’s all a fraud- it’s laughable, and yet he’s still letting you go into the Soviet Union and risk your life over it?”
Remus shrugged. “I don’t mind.”
“What does Voldemort even want it for?”
“I don’t have the first idea, Sirius. It’s not like he gives me these orders himself, and even if he did, I can’t exactly question him.”
“You’re a Legilimens,” Sirius retorted.
“And I’m going to be able to use it on Voldemort without him catching on? I don’t think I’m quite that good, Sirius.”
“Then what are you playing at? If Voldemort won’t tell anyone what he’s planning-“
“Sirius, I am doing what Dumbledore tells me to do. It’s what I have to do. Do you understand?”
“No!” Sirius barked, and Remus sighed heavily at the flashing grey eyes and the anger etched across Sirius’s brow. “I don’t understand, and I want it to stop! We’re still losing people, and we’re still losing this war.”
“It’s not a war, anymore,” Remus muttered. “It’s a massacre.”
“And nothing you’ve been able to find out and tell us has won this war!” Sirius raged. “There are still spies on our side and ambushes we don’t know about and families killed in their homes!”
“That’s not my fault!” Remus retaliated, stung. “I can’t stop the entire force of Death Eaters, Sirius!”
“I didn’t say you could! But when they figure out what you’re doing, they’ll torture you until you talk, and then they’ll kill you!”
“I’d never talk.”
“They’ll kill you anyway, then! And no nice, neat Avadra Kedavra. They’d… they’d…” Sirius’s eyes flew wide and Remus knew he was seeing visions that were too gruesome and terrifying to put into words. But he knew them well, because they haunted his own nightmares as well. He walked over and laid a hand against Sirius’s back.
“It’s a risk we all take,” he said, knowing he was lying even as he said it. If Sirius was killed, it would be in battle. It would probably be quick. But Sirius drew away from his touch.
“I don’t want you going,” he insisted stubbornly.
“I’ll be fine. Actually, I’ll be safer on this trek to Leningrad than I would be here.”
“I don’t. Want. You going.”
There was a hot, dull ache behind Remus’s eyes. “I’m going.” Sirius muttered something in response. “What was that?”
“I don’t like that you’re actually grateful to the Death Eaters.”
“What?!”
“You want to go! I can tell! You’re excited about this trip!”
“Well, yes, if you want the truth! But that doesn’t mean-“
“It does too! It means that the Death Eaters are doing something for you that I can’t do!”
“Yes, they’re sending me on a mission that goes against everything I believe in, and I have to go because you know what? I don’t care about the damn reliquary but the person I’m going with is hovering on the edge, and if I keep after him maybe I can get him to help US. I am not trying to save the world anymore, Sirius! I am trying to save one single soul!”
“And what good does that do, when you might lose yours?”
“It is important!”
“How important can it be?”
"Important enough that Dumbledore wants me to continue!"
"That's not good enough!"
"It has to be!" Remus raged. "What other option do we have, Sirius?"
"You can not go to the Soviet bloody Union on the Death Eaters' orders!" Sirius thundered. "Refuse!"
"You know what would happen if I refused!" Remus shouted back. "You said it yourself! They'd kill me, Sirius! Like they almost did the first time!"
The color drained from Sirius's face. "I was exaggerating. It's not like that," he said, but they both knew it was exactly like that. Remus stared at him, helpless. "You don't have to go," Sirius repeated.
"I have to. I'll be all right, Sirius. In fact, I'm probably safer on this mission than I am here in London. Please, Sirius. It will be fine."
Sirius closed his eyes and turned back to the window, laying his forehead against the glass. "It's not that. It's that they're giving you something we can't give you."
"And it's not important," Remus insisted, coming to stand behind him. He touched Sirius's shoulder hesitantly. "Just because there's a bright side doesn't mean I'm out to join the Death Eaters. There are things that are more important to me than seeing the world."
"It's not seeing the world. It's freedom," Sirius said, his shoulder still stiff.
"And being told to go is freedom? Sirius, I have no more freedom under them than I do under us." He laid his head against Sirius's back, between the shoulder blades, and slid one arm around to Sirius's chest. "Please. Trust me."
Sirius caught his hand in his and squeezed. "I do."
***
The wail of the train's whistle echoed through the station, and Remus and Regulus sprinted to catch it, throwing themselves up the steps just in time. It was a small train, with only two passenger cars and the rest meant for cargo, but an unoccupied compartment was still easy to come by.
"We would have been here earlier if you hadn't had to stop and see that church," Regulus groused as they settled in their seats.
"We made it in time," Remus pointed out.
"Barely. This isn't a sight-seeing tour, Lupin. We're here on orders from the Dark Lord."
"But I'll…" Remus broke off, annoyed. "Never mind."
To his surprise, Regulus cocked his head. "But you what?"
"It's nothing."
"No. If you're going to drag me around the historical sites of Berlin, you're going to explain why." Regulus arched an eyebrow at him. "But you what?" he repeated.
"I'll probably never have the chance to see Berlin again," Remus muttered, sorting through his bag and pulling out a book.
"Well, whyever not?" Regulus asked. "Just get my brother," his lips twisted distastefully on the words, "to bring you back when all this is over."
"The Werewolf Registry won't let me come back."
"They will if the Dark Lord is in power."
"I doubt it," Remus said darkly.
"He's promised Dark Creatures who serve him their rights," Regulus said. The tone of his voice was petulant, and Remus noticed that his eyes lacked any fire of conviction.
"Look," he said, choosing his words as carefully as possible, trying not to sound too excited, "all through history dictators and governments have made promises like that. 'Fight for us and we'll give you your freedom.'"
"They follow through," Regulus argued. "Look at the American Civil War. Convicts were granted their freedom to fight for the South, and that wasn't retracted."
Remus raised his eyebrows, impressed. "That might be so, legally," he said. "And maybe it would happen for a few years. But the old prejudices never die, and you can never tell what will happen. Maybe Voldemort would give me my rights. But would a new Headmaster at Hogwarts hire me to teach? Would a shop owner still employ me? No. People would eventually be calling for Voldemort to hunt me down and stamp me out, and if he didn't do it, they'd do it on their own. Regulus, just look at the country we're going to to see how political promises don't pan out. Communism was supposed to bring wealth and prosperity for all. From what I understand, it hasn't. Promises are never kept."
Regulus sniffed. "You're a pessimist. And I hardly think comparing the Dark Lord to Lenin is accurate. Their ideologies are completely different."
"But the concept of promises made during wars is not," Remus argued.
"Answer me this, then," Regulus said. "At least the Dark Lord promises you your rights, which is far more than your side does. So how could anything he does be worse than what you have now?"
"You know how you asked me why I don't just go with Sirius when all this is over?" Remus asked.
"Yes."
"If Voldemort wins, there won't be a Sirius to go with. He'll be dead." Remus opened his book. "Now shut up and let me read."
***
The memo was on his desk that morning. Even before he opened it, Sirius knew its contents. The Aurors were being authorized to use the Unforgivable Curses in apprehending suspects; the situation was that desperate.
Sirius shrugged off his leather jacket slowly and laid it across the back of his chair, never taking his eyes off that piece of paper that gave him the right to torture, control, and kill. He sat down heavily, deliberately set the memo aside, and pulled forward the top folder on his stack of case files. Then he had to wonder if someone had placed it there deliberately, because the suspect in question- Walden Macnair- had the attack on the Lupins listed as one of his many supposed credentials.
The bright stale lights and cubicle walls faded, and once again he was in the Lupins' dark living room, with blinding flashes of spells and shouts echoing about him and the scents of ashes and blood sharp in his nostrils. His hands began to shake and the papers in the folder fell to the floor. His stomach twisted in panic and his muscles tensed to the point of pain as sweat sluiced down his back. In his head he could hear the shouting voices muffled by masks and Damien's hoarse cries, and all he could think was he had to save Marilyn, save Damien, save Remus.
Someone touched his shoulder and he grabbed his wand and spun around. "Stupefy!"
Time stopped for a long, sickening moment as Alice Longbottom's eyes widened and she fell to the floor, her pregnant body clumsy and heavy. He tried to dive forward and catch her, but his limbs wouldn't obey and all he could do was stand helpless, watching as she hit the ground. Someone shouted something- he couldn't make out the words- and he stared at her in horror.
A fist connected with his face, and time snapped back into motion as his head whipped around with the force of Frank's blow. From the corner of his eye, he saw Frank pulling back again and he braced himself, preparing for an impact that never came. Moody caught Frank's arm, smoothly and calmly, and Damien seized Sirius himself from behind.
He let himself be dragged away, still watching Alice's inert form with a sick sort of horror. "Is she…?" he whispered.
Damien shook his head. "I doubt it, although the baby-"
There was more to his sentence but Sirius didn't hear it. He had grabbed the waste paper basket and was locked in a battle of dry heaves.
When the attack subsided and he could look around, he was in Elphias Doge's office. Doge, Damien, Moody and Mulciber were all watching him, their wands at the ready.
"Alice?" he croaked out in a voice horse from strain.
"You have other problems right now, Black," Mulciber growled. "Should we bind him, do you think?"
"I've got his wand," Moody said, holding it up. "He won't get far."
"You don't need a wand to Apparate away," Mulciber muttered, but he quieted at a glance from Doge.
"This is the second time you've put a fellow Auror at risk," Doge said to Sirius. "I would like to hear your reason for this time. What happened?"
Sirius glanced around. All four faces were expressionless and stony. "It wasn't like last time," he began. "I was reading a case file and all of a sudden… well, I guess you'd call it a flashback." Even he cringed at how silly that sounded when he said it. "I was caught up in my thoughts and when Alice touched my shoulder, I didn't really think. I just reacted."
"Constant vigilance," Moody said, nodding.
"Not funny. And not necessary in the Ministry," Mulciber said sulkily. "Particularly in the Auror Headquarters,"
"Except there's someone trying to do in Aurors, and it looks like an inside job," Moody growled.
"Well, I'd say we have our most likely suspect. He tried to kill Longbottom and stunned… well, Longbottom."
"Ridiculous," Damien said, his voice low and threatening. "It was established that Sirius was under the Imperious curse last time, and this sounds like a psychological issue."
That statement made Doge's face twist, and Sirius's heart sped up as he wondered if his job was in danger, even as his throat closed at the defense.
"What was the flashback?" Doge asked.
With an apologetic look at Damien, Sirius answered, "The attack on the Lupin house last year. The case file I was reading was of someone who was suspected to be involved."
Mulciber snorted. "Ten points from Gryffindor for sentimentality."
"Watch it," Moody snapped, his wand raised and pointed at Damien, who was poised to attack.
"Mulciber, Lupin, I think we can handle this without your help." Doge flicked his wand and the door opened. "Mulciber, I want a full report on the raid on the Malfoy Manor on my desk by lunch. Lupin, I've got a lead for you on Stern: he was spotted at the Hogshead last night. Go follow up, immediately." He watched as the two men walked out. "And don't kill each other," he shouted as they left.
"Is it a good idea, putting Lupin on the Stern case?" Moody asked, his eyes still trained on Sirius.
"No, but we'll discuss it later, Alastor. Give Black his wand back."
It seemed to Sirius that Moody, for all the faith he'd seemed to display, was reluctant to hand the wand over, but he did so. With the smooth wood back under his fingers, Sirius felt calmer. He sat down in the chair Doge gestured to.
"Do you need a drink, Sirius?"
"Thank you." Sirius accepted a glass of water.
"So you had a flashback," Doge said.
"Yes, sir." Sirius sipped the water.
"Please describe it."
Warily, and worried now for the safety of his job, Sirius did so. Doge listened, his face impassive, his hands folded on his desk.
"Was this your first one?" he asked Sirius when he finished speaking.
Sirius considered it. "I think so. I've had nightmares about that night, but nothing quite like this."
"Do you have flashbacks of any of the other attacks? The Quidditch attack?"
"No, sir," Sirius lied, although none of them had been this intense.
"I see." Doge made a notation on a piece of paper in front of him. "Well then. I suggest you pull it together, Mr. Black. I understand that there are issues with the situations at hand that the mind does not simply deal with, but in light of how desperate our situation is becoming I can not afford to give you time to deal with this. If this in any way impacts your work again-"
"It won't," Sirius interrupted hastily.
Doge looked at him from under shaggy grey brows. "It wouldn't be the first time," he said, and his voice held a note of kindness. "And I'm sad to say it won't be the last. No more flashblacks."
"Yes sir." And with that, Sirius slunk out of the room.
***
They sat in silence all morning, Remus reading a mystery novel and Regulus working his way through Grindewald's Ghosts, a book Remus had always meant to read and never had about those who suffered in the 1940's. It struck him as an odd book for a young Death Eater to be reading, but perhaps the author would be a more powerful force on Regulus's mind than a half-blooded gay werewolf had the power to be. After a while he set down his own book and stared at out the window at the countryside rushing past.
He wished it was Sirius sitting across from him, and that this was an adventure and not a fool's mission. He could imagine Sirius sitting and reading a novel, chin propped on his hand as he did so, his feet tangling with Remus's. There would come a point where one of them would get tired and stretch out across the seat, his head pillowed in the other's lap. In fact, Remus lay down now, his head resting on his bag as he closed his eyes and tried to imagine it was Sirius's thighs beneath him. As he drifted off to sleep he imagined he heard Sirius's voice in his ears.
When we woke up Regulus was staring out the window chewing on his fingernails, a waxed paper packet beside him.
"Where are we?" Remus asked groggily, shaking his head to clear it.
Regulus jumped. "Poland, I think," he said absently. "Do you want something to eat?" He held out the packet. "The lunch cart came by. I got a sandwich, but I wasn't hungry." He leaned down and picked up a bottle. "I got you a drink as well."
It was without a doubt the most thoughtful (probably only thoughtful) gesture that Regulus had extended towards him. "Thank you," Remus said, taking the sandwich and the bottle. Regulus just shook his head and went back to staring out the window. Remus ate in silence.
"Do I look like my brother?" Regulus asked suddenly.
"Pardon?"
"Half the people I know say I look like him," Regulus said, now staring down at his hands, "but the other half say we look nothing alike. Do I look like him?"
"I can tell you're brothers," Remus answered thoughtfully. "Especially in the nose and jawline. But no, you don't look exactly like him or anything." He took a bite and chewed slowly. "Actually, you look more like I'd have throught your Uncle Alphard would have looked when he was our age."
"How the… did you know Alphard?"
"Yes." Remus took another bite. "Did you?"
"Why you impenitent-" Regulus began, but something in his head stopped whatever that line of thought was and he turned angrily back to the window. "Not really," he admitted after a long silence. "He was always traveling, and when he did come he was closer to Sirius. I always thought he didn't like me." Regulus chuckled dryly. "He probably didn't. He didn't like any of the Blacks much, did he?"
"He didn't like your father, no."
"But he believed in blood purity."
"Yes," Remus sighed. "He said so when Sirius ran away from home."
"That's what I've never understood," Regulus said, leaning forward suddenly. "I know he was upset when Sirius ran. When I saw him after that, he was kind of… well, it tore everyone in the family apart. Alphard was no exception. But he left Sirius his money anyway. Why?"
"Do you really want to know?" Remus asked. Regulus answered the question with a disdainful sneer, and Remus heaved a sigh. "All right, I get it. He was a werewolf."
Regulus blinked. "Who, Sirius?"
"No, Alphard. That's how I know him. We met at the Registry when I was ten, and we wrote for almost five years." Now Remus looked out the window, surprised at the tears pressing against his eyes. He blinked rapidly and his vision cleared. "But he told Sirius. And Sirius accepted it. That's why."
"Alphard didn't die of pneumonia, did he?" Regulus asked, catching on quickly.
"No."
"Does Sirius know that?"
"I don't know, to be honest. I've never told him, but Sirius is smart enough to put it together. He certainly knows the consequences if a werewolf kills and is captured."
Regulus sat back against the seat, thinking about it. "Do you think Uncle Alphard would have joined the Dark Lord?"
"No. I remember him saying something about it in a letter. Something about not being able to trust anyone who's after that much power. He was right. Voldemort isn't trying to work for the people he wants to rule- he wants power for himself. Voldemort's first- and only- priority is to Voldemort. Your uncle didn't trust him at all."
Regulus sighed and picked his book back up. "Sometimes, I can see why." He turned back to the book, indicating the conversation was over.
Remus picked up his own book, trying to still the hope that was burgeoning in him.
***
"And just how are you supposed to control that?" James demanded later that night. "No more flashbacks? It's not like you asked for one."
"I know," Sirius said glumly.
"Is Alice all right?" Lily asked anxiously.
"Yeah. They took her to St. Mungo's and they said the baby was fine."
"That's a relief."
"Tell me about it." Sirius shook his head. "I didn't mean to hurt her, much less the baby. I couldn't have forgiven myself if…." He shuddered. It was unthinkable.
"Do they really think it will be a problem?" James asked as Lily went into the kitchen to start dinner.
"I guess so. Look, Prongs, it does make a certain amount of sense. Aurors can't afford to be going to pieces. What if it happens while I'm tracking a Death Eater?"
"It's not that I don't understand," James said. "Believe me, I do. It's just you can't be the only one to deal with this. I mean, Mr. Lupin was defending his own home and his own family. Can you really tell me he hasn't had any flashbacks or other mental problems? Bloody hell, it took him a few months to be able to walk at a normal pace and he still limps, and yet they aren't threatening to shuttle him off to some other division."
"He's older," Lily shouted from the kitchen. "More experienced. He knows how to cope with it. Sirius will too, in time."
"But time is what we don't have," Sirius pointed out.
"Or manpower," James said.
"Well, then, what's your suggestion, Prongs? What do I do about this?" Sirius got up and started pacing. "I've been over and over it, but I can't come up with anything."
James thought, rubbing his hand across his upper lip. "Did anything trigger it?" he asked.
"Just seeing the file on a suspect in the case." Sirius shrugged. "I can't spell all the files to give me warning or anything."
"But you've seen those kinds of files before," James argued. "Did you and Remus fight today?"
"No, not today. He's away. You know that."
James eyed him shrewdly. "Did you fight before he left?" Sirius flushed, remembering the argument. James nodded. "What about?"
Sirius opened his mouth to explain, and then shut it awkwardly and looked at James helplessly. For the first time since he was eleven, he couldn't explain to James exactly what had happened. Not because he didn't know, but because James couldn't know that Remus was spying on the Death Eaters.
"What?" James asked. "Come on, Sirius. You can tell me."
"I can't," Sirius said miserably.
James's face tightened. "Look, I thought we were past this, Sirius. I thought you knew that you can talk to me about Remus."
"It's not that," Sirius insisted. "It's…" he tried to think of how to phrase it, especially has he had the sickening realization that James would be offended Remus hadn't told him about the assignment. Wouldn't he? "It was nothing, James," Sirius lied, feeling sick at the deception. "Just one of those stupid arguments."
James didn't believe him- Sirius could see it in his expression. But there was nothing he could say.
***
The train stopped, and Remus opened his eyes. "Border guards," he muttered unnecessarily, stretching. Regulus was still staring out the window, lost in thought.
It was a wizarding train, so Remus wasn't expecting men in uniform or… what was he expecting, anyway? He wasn't sure. What he got was a pair of wizards, both in red robes. The one had a bored, slackened look about him, whereas the second had a more pinched, strained expression. Neither one smiled. Remus gave Regulus (who had snapped out of his trance) a significant look, and Regulus rolled his eyes.
"Documenti, pozhalujsta," the sour-faced wizard snapped.
"Govorite li vy po angliyski?" Regulus asked.
"Nyet. Documenti, pozhalujsta."
Regulus sighed. "Get your papers out," he hissed at Remus, who really had been smart enough to figure that out and had done so. He handed them to Regulus, who handed them over to the border guards. They were snatched out of Regulus's hands, and the two guards poured over them, conversing in rapid Russian.
"Do you have any idea of what they're saying?" Remus asked quietly.
"Yes." There was a deathly silence from the two guards as they turned and looked at Remus, and then one short, angry word that sounded more like a curse than anything else.
"They just found that you're a werewolf," Regulus informed him.
"You think so?" Remus shot back sarcastically. Regulus fixed him with an icy glare of death. Remus noticed his face was much better suited for that expression than Sirius's had ever been. He rolled his eyes back and sat back, trying to act casual and as if the expression of the Soviet wizards wasn't affecting him in the least.
The truth was, it bothered him every time he saw it, and these days he was seeing it more and more often.
For some reason- perhaps because it was what he was used to- Remus was expecting trouble, but after a thorough examination the guards shoved their papers back at them and left the compartment. Eventually, the train lurched into motion again, and Remus peered out the window. The countryside didn't look any different, despite the fact they were in a completely different world than what he'd grown up in, but he was convinced it felt different. Regulus snorted again- his favorite means of expression- but Remus noticed he seemed just as fascinated as well, he just hid it better.
"So this is the Soviet Union," Remus finally said, just because it seemed like they should have some way of marking getting this far.
"Bugger off," Regulus said, picking up a new book.
Remus couldn't help laughing when he saw that it was We the Living.
***
The flat was quiet.
Sirius hadn't noticed it the day before because he'd spent his evening with James and Lily, and when he'd come home he'd been tired enough to fall asleep quickly. But tonight he was home alone, a plate of warmed-up leftovers, a bottle of beer, and an overwhelming silence.
"This is ridiculous," he said out loud. It was his imagination, but his voice echoed.
He ate his dinner as he read a book, focusing more on the pages in front of him than the food he ate. And then the chapter was finished and his dishes were cleaned and dried, and an entire evening alone stretched out in front of him.
It was stupid, Sirius told himself as he wandered the flat. It was stupid to feel out of sorts and alone, because he'd lived alone for months before Remus had moved in with him. There were all sorts of things he could do. There was that book he'd been reading, files to catch up on, friends he could go see… and yet, here he was, opening drawers idly.
The black writing caught his eye because it was familiar, but Sirius couldn't quite place it. It tickled the edges of his memory, but he couldn't quite place it. It was a sheaf of letters, all short, all detailing meeting places.
They were from a Death Eater.
Sirius felt his blood chill. It was ludicrous, of course. Absolutely ridiculous to feel like this. Remus was spying for Dumbledore. He was working with the Death Eaters. Of course there was contact. How had he thought the Death Eaters communicated with each other- telepathy? These letters were normal.
Except that they were mainly from the same Death Eater. The handwriting was consistent through over three quarters of the letters. And every time, Sirius couldn't shake the feeling that that handwriting was familiar.
His mind flashed back to Hogwarts as he tried to place who it could be. Perhaps Snivellus Snape. He'd certainly be foul enough to be a Death Eater, even if Sirius hadn't heard a whisper of his involvement in the Auror office. He remembered Remus's defense of Snape, the way he tried to get them to lay off, even when he and James were rightfully provoked….
He shook his head angrily and stuffed the letters back into the drawer. What would it matter if the Death Eater was Snape? Or anyone else they'd known at school? Remus was loyal, and Dumbledore would never let him spy if he had any doubts about that.
Sirius shut the drawer determinedly and stormed out of the bedroom, slamming the door. It was definitely time to get out of this flat- the emptiness was playing with his head. He grabbed his jacket, went outside, and climbed on the motorbike. As he flew off into the night, the cold air against his face blew away the unease and brought him back down to earth, as even as he soared through the sky.
***
The train lurched to a stop, the air clogged with soot and smoke. Remus peered out eagerly, ignoring Regulus's long-suffering sigh.
When Sirius traveled, Remus told himself that cities were cities, and places like Prague and Budapest and Paris and Frankfurt were probably very much like London or Dublin, only with different landmarks. He knew it wasn't true, but he forced himself to believe it anyway.
Now here was Leningrad spread before him, and Remus couldn't wait to jump off the train and explore it all.
"We'll have to find someplace to stay," Regulus was saying as he shrank his current book (Merlin's Trousers: The Life and Times of The Greatest Wizard Ever) and slipped it into his bag. "I have a list of places." They walked off the train and stepped down onto the platform, and Regulus looked about with a pleased expression. "We'll find something."
Remus nodded, but he wasn't really listening. Everywhere around him he could hear people talking in Russian. The language was so different from English, with sharp, crisp syllables and a completely different inflection to the words. Signs hung from the ceiling and on the wall, all in the Cyrillic alphabet which seemed more like an Ancient Runes test than a proper language to him. And everywhere, people were moving about their business. He was disappointed to see that they were dressed much like the Muggles he saw in London. The hats were a bit different, and perhaps the cut of the coats, but nothing overly exotic. Secretly, he hoped wizards were not the same.
Regulus was moving through the throng impatiently, peering up at signs and comparing them to a sheet of paper he was holding in his hand. Remus followed him out of the depot and into the street, completely lost and not caring in the least as his eyes took in the city of Leningrad.
Amazingly, Regulus did seem to know exactly where he was going. He walked through the streets with a quick, confident step, not looking around much except to glance at signs. Remus suddenly noticed for the first time that Regulus was wearing a plain robe that was obviously second-hand and wasn't wearing his ring, and as he looked around the street he decided that might not have been a bad idea. From what Remus knew of Soviet history, advertising that you were a member of the aristocracy of any sort was a bad idea.
But despite that, Leningrad wasn't quite what Remus was expecting. The little he'd read about Soviet Russia led him to expect extreme poverty visible everywhere, gray, grim faces, and guards constantly marching. And yet, Leningrad was reputed as one of the Soviet Union's most beautiful cities, and he could see that in the architecture, particularly the spire of the Peter and Paul Fortress, the dome of St. Isaac's Cathedral, and the Church of the Savior on the Spilled Blood. He was lost in thought about it when he crashed into Regulus, who had stopped suddenly. "This is it," Regulus informed him, as the inn appeared before them. It was a shabby little place, with the smell of onions and dill coming from a kitchen in the back. Remus followed Regulus in.
Regulus conversed with the innkeeper, a thin man with a consumptive face. Remus had to admit that he was impressed. As far as he knew, Sirius wasn't multilingual. He could speak English impeccably (when he so chose) and some smatterings of French (including all the dirty words), but nothing fluent. Not like the way Regulus was talking. Regulus slid a few Galleons across the tabletop and the innkeeper returned a pair of keys, and then gestured for them to follow him as he lead them to their room.
It wasn't as comfortable as those in the Leaky Cauldron, but there were two beds, both spread with faded red rugs. The wooden floor was bare, there was a small dresser, and a print with garish colors hanging over the lamp between the two beds. "I've never cared for Soviet art," Regulus said once the innkeeper had left them. "It's very block-like and crude."
Remus set his bag down on one of the beds. "Where are we?" he asked. "And don't tell me Leningrad," he said as Regulus opened his mouth. Regulus shut it promptly. "Where in Leningrad are we?"
Regulus pulled out a map and unfolded it, sitting down on his own bed. "We're here," he said, jabbing at an intersection. "The old Imperial Palace is over here." He pointed at a place halfway across the town. "There's an inn slightly closer, but I didn't want to be too obvious about what we're here for."
"And the Palace?" Remus asked. "What's that like?"
"Hard to say for sure," Regulus answered, rubbing his chin. "It's considered a State Museum now, but I don't think it's terribly well guarded, at least not by Muggles. From what I understand of Communism, any relation to the past and the bourgeois is deemed unpatriotic. So hopefully, the relics of the Imperial past have pretty much settled into dust under nice pretty glass cases. It shouldn't be any harder than some of the other jobs we've had."
"We can hope," Remus muttered, far less optimistic. "What about wizards? Rasputin was reputed to be one of the most powerful wizards ever. Surely they would guard anything to do with him- or destroy it. How do we even know this reliquary that Voldemort wants even still exists?"
"The Dark Lord said it does."
"Helpful," Remus muttered. "What does he want it for, anyway?"
Regulus shrugged. "I don't know. It doesn't make that much sense. I've read up on Rasputin, of course, and the only connection I can make between him and the Dark Lord is the quest for immortality. You've heard the story of Rasputin's death, right?"
"Poisoned, shot, drowned, and by some reports castrated?" Remus asked.
"Exactly. The Muggle history I read-"
"Wait. You read a Muggle history?"
Regulus glared at him. "Yes. Rasputin was a rare wizard in that he lived among Muggles and still used his magic. A most interesting case. But as I was saying, the Muggle account I read is skeptical of the story of Rasputin's death. There was no poison found in his blood during the autopsy, and the entire story of his death just doesn't really make sense." Regulus smiled nastily. "The Muggles didn't quite believe the entire thing. It was too elaborate. For instance, the Prince Felix invited him over that night with the lure that his wife would be there. However, Felix and Rasputin were friends in and of themselves. In fact," Regulus made a face that was disgust tempered with deep amusement as he watched Remus, "some say that Felix and Rasputin were more than friends, given that Felix was a gay transvestite."
"Funny," Remus said dryly.
"You don't know much about Rasputin, do you? He'd fuck anything. Quite an accomplishment, given that the man reputedly had the most intense body odor in the city. Of course," Regulus mused, "he was also reputed to have a thirteen inch cock."
Remus's eyes bulged out of his head. "Ouch," he said, before he could think of anything else to say. Regulus looked up, startled, and then began to laugh. It wasn't a long one, but it was a crack in his defenses. Remus smiled sheepishly.
"Anyway," Regulus said, bringing himself back under control, "the Muggles are skeptical. They suspect that Felix and his cohort Dmitri made up most of the story to cover for the fact that they were incompetent." He sniffed disdainfully.
"You don't believe that?"
"No. I suspect that Rasputin found some way of magically extending his life, and it was destroyed in the process. Or the method could only absorb so many assassination attempts."
"And you think that's what Voldemort's after?"
"I think that's exactly what Voldemort's after."
Remus nodded grimly. "Right then. So what are we going to do?"
***
They were running down the alley- Sirius could see a flicker of dark robes as their quarry turned the corner. His breath was coming fast and hard; these Death Eaters had given them a fight already. Three Aurors were still back at the warehouse where they'd ambushed the Death Eaters, and only two of them were still breathing.
"I'm getting too old for this," Sirius heard Moody mutter, and then he heard the crack of Apparation as Moody decided enough running was enough, and then the shouts in the alley ahead of him. Sirius and Frank rounded the corner, both trying to regain their breath as they prepared for what was coming.
Moody had successfully Apparated in front of the Death Eaters, and he had been joined by Damien Lupin, who must have had the same idea. With Sirius and Frank closing in from the back, the odds seemed quite good. The Death Eaters were surrounded, and there was no way out.
There were six of them, four of them in the dark robes and the masks that Sirius had come to expect, and two in ragged robes with some sort of cowl pulled across their face. Sirius didn't have time to wonder about the difference in costume as a Death Eater raised his wand and pointed it straight at him. "Sectumsempra!"
Fortunately, Sirius had been quick enough with a Shield Charm, and fired back with a hex of his own. But there was something about that voice, that curse… he knew it….
It couldn't matter right now though- this was no time to be trying to place voices in his memory. This was the time to be fighting, firing hexes and dodging spells.
It seemed never-ending. Sirius had only been out of school and in training for a matter of two years, and yet a part of him was tired, even as he fought. There was a sameness to it, each battle a firing and retaliation of hexes, defenses, curses, and charms. And the Death Eaters never seemed to dwindle in number. But the exhaustion was pushed aside as a curse whizzed past him, gashing his thigh.
It hurt, but like always, the pain could be pushed aside with adrenaline.
The colors of magic flared off the brick walls and the puddles by dumpsters, and yet nothing seemed to happen, not really, until two Death Eaters bore down on Frank, and suddenly the Auror was sprawled across the pavement, blood on his cheek and his temple. Sirius was abruptly aware of how far back he'd been pushed as he tried to run to Frank's inert body, the voice of his mind telling him the light wasn't green, the light wasn't green…. He saw Frank turn a little and the band around his chest released, until he saw the Death Eater raise their wand.
"Avada Kevadra!"
There was a flash of green light, and the Death Eater fell to the ground.
The other Death Eaters exchanged glances, and although Sirius was standing almost still in his shock he could feel that the tide of battle had turned. The Death Eaters had not expected the Killing Curse from this source, and now they knew at least two of the Aurors had enough power to perform it. Because Sirius knew, without a doubt, that Alastor Moody had not cast the Avada Kevadra. And with the look on Damien's face, Sirius would bet money he'd cast it again.
It didn't happen. Sirius heard that familiar voice again say "Portus", and they were all knocked over by the escaping Death Eaters who'd grabbed the Portkey. The force of the magic kicked sand up into his face, and Sirius closed his eyes and threw an arm up involuntarily. When he opened them, the Death Eaters were gone, save the one lying on the pavement.
The entire alley echoed with the silence. Sirius sat up, struggling to his feet slowly, eyes fixed on the black-robed figure before him. The woman- it was definitely a woman- lay perfectly still, as if she'd been frozen. He'd never seen a person killed in front of him by Avada Kedavra before, and he slowly bent down to remove her mask. Her face, the face of a thirty-something woman- was frozen in shock, her eyes still open.
The blood pounded in his ears.
Beside him, Frank groaned, and Sirius snapped his attention away, surprised to see the man still on the ground. He moved forward, his leg throbbing in response from where the Sectumsempra curse had hit. He knelt down, and his legs finally gave out so he was sitting beside Frank on the ground. Frank's eyes were glazed, but when Sirius touched him his pulse was strong and his skin was warm. He sighed with relief and looked up.
Moody was standing over the body of the dead Death Eater, an unreadable expression on his face. Damien came up beside him.
"Do you know who she is?"
"No. Do you?"
Damien shook his head. "Never seen her before." Sirius thought that he should look far more stricken to see a dead woman he'd never seen before lying on the ground, especially knowing that he'd killed her. But Damien looked about as distraught as if he'd killed a rat or some other small animal.
Moody bent over and closed her eyes. "Black, is Longbottom all right?"
Sirius tore his eyes away from Damien. "I think so. Badly concussed, though."
"Get him to St. Mungo's, and get that leg looked at, too. Lupin and I will make the report."
On to Part 2
Title: Accidentally In Love, part 10
Rating: PG-13 for this part
Disclaimer: standard
Notes: Um, yeah. Sorry it's been so long. Between the baby and HBP, I've been a little distracted. JKR threw a pretty big wrench in the works with HBP. Not with Remus or Sirius, mind you, but I'd always written Regulus off as unimportant. While he's much more fun now, I really had to reevaluate this part and the next part. Hope it was worth the wait, and Part 11 will not be nearly as long in coming. (The baby is still here, but I won't have to reevaluate the freaking plot.)
Accidentally In Love Part X: Breaking Points
"How are you doing?" Alice asked Sirius as she gathered papers off the table.
"Me? Sirius asked, surprised. "Absolutely fine, except I'm not looking forward to chasing down this bastard." He poked the case file with his wand. "You're the one we should be worried about." He reached out and patted her stomach solely so Alice would scowl and bat his hand away. He grinned at her.
"Piss off. I meant… how are you really doing?"
"Thank you for that clarification, Temptress."
Alice scowled at him. "With the attack on the Quidditch stadium, idiot."
"Oh. I've got a few leads, but it's not like we're just chasing down one or two Death Eaters this time. They were all in on it, weren't they?" Sirius said with a scowl.
"But the Potters… I know they were like parents to you."
Sirius grimaced. Grief was a new emotion to him, and one that he was not entirely comfortable with. "I'm fine," he said, forcing a smile. "After all, they weren't my parents. They were James's."
"But-"
"I mean, technically, both of my parents are still alive, right? It's not like what James has to go through, or Lily, for that matter. Or Peter. His dad died when we were all fourth years, you know. Or Remus, who lost his Mum just a year ago. So I'm really quite all right." The faked cheerfulness in his tone made his voice high-pitched and cracked. "So believe me, Alice, I'm fine."
"Right," she said, backing off. "I can see that, Sirius."
He smiled at her again, although this time it was more genuine. "I'll be fine, Alice," he reassured her. "Don't worry about it. I'm holding everything together."
"I know you are."
***
Remus had always hated going to the Werewolf Registry Office for those bimonthly updates, and now that he dealt almost exclusively with Macnair, it was nearly unbearable. But Macnair had been more valuable than Remus had anticipated, and the Order had been able to thwart three minor attacks and one major one. So, distasteful as it was, Remus could accept it. But that didn’t mean he had to enjoy doing it.
He hadn’t expected anything unusual today, which was why he was so surprised when, after the obligatory questions and the addition of two minor regulations to the Werewolf Code of Conduct, Macnair handed him a sheaf of parchment.
“Here are your travel papers,” he said.
“Travel papers?” Remus said, finding it hard to speak against the lump in his throat and the unwelcome surge in his stomach.
“Yes. I am afraid they are rather thick, but the Soviet Union is a bit, well…” Macnair grinned wryly.
“Regulated,” Remus finished, his hand reaching out.
“Very much so,” Macnair agreed.
Remus stared down at the pile of papers, bound together with a gleaming silver clip, stamped and signed and declaring that Remus Lupin, werewolf, had clearance to travel to Leningrad.
“Wait a minute,” he said slowly. “I’m not going to Leningrad.”
“Yes, you are,” Macnair said, flashing another smile. “I’ve also been asked to give you this.” He handed Remus a sealed scroll, with the Dark Mark stamped into the wax. “You should be pleased. These orders come from very high up indeed.”
Remus nodded, probing for exactly how high up. To his absolute delight, he managed to get a clear picture and a voice he recognized as Lucius Malfoy. Macnair didn’t seem to notice. “The Dark Lord must be very pleased with you, because this is an assignment I didn’t expect him to delegate to… well, to you and…” Macnair waved a hand, leaning back comfortably. “I didn’t expect it. But you’ve done well.”
Remus nodded again and stared back at the papers. “So we’re to go to Leningrad…” he said, his voice trailing off in wonder.
“Yes. You’ve not been there before, have you?”
“No. Never. But…” it was unfolding fast, the implications. The Soviet Union had such a terrible reputation, but such a fascinating history, and he’d seen pictures. And if Voldemort’s pattern was like it usually was, their mission would take them to a museum at least, but more likely a historical landmark. Maybe the Winter Palace. Maybe the Kirov Palace. Maybe….
“Well then, if you don’t have any more questions?” Macnair prompted, and Remus looked up suddenly, tearing his mind away from the visions he was conjuring.
“No, I think I understand. Thank you.”
Macnair inclined his head. “No. The Dark Lord thanks you.”
***
“Leningrad?” Sirius said, his voice barely strained down from a shout. “You’re going to Leningrad?”
“Yes.” Remus was darning a pair of gloves. Leningrad would be cold, even now in early spring. “What?”
“Just… what’s the Werewolf Registry have to say about this?”
“Macnair was the one who handed me the orders. So I’d say they’re fine with it.”
“Do border guards know they are?” Sirius asked sarcastically.
“I would think that’s what the papers are for, Sirius. To tell them. I’ve told you before, it’s not unheard of for werewolves to get permission to travel for certain purposes. Alphard traveled all the time.”
Sirius opened his mouth to argue, but shut it abruptly. Remus sighed, tying off the thread and looking mournfully at the clumsy job he’d done. Sirius stalked to the window, staring out it angrily.
He looked different, Remus realized, setting the glove down slowly. His hair was mussed and he hadn’t shaved in two days, and there was something more. There was some frenetic energy that made him seem to vibrate, even as he stood motionless at the window. “What is it?” he asked.
“Does Dumbledore know you’re going?” Sirius said, the words clipped as he stared out the window.
Remus grinned wryly. “Yes. Actually, it’s funny you mention that.”
Sirius turned to face him. “Why?”
“According to Dumbledore, the object Voldemort wants isn’t nearly as powerful as he thinks.” Remus chuckled. “Kind of comforting, really, to realize that he is fallible.”
“What does he want?”
“A reliquary of Rasputin’s. Dumbledore laughed when I told him.”
“He laughed. It’s unimportant, it’s all a fraud- it’s laughable, and yet he’s still letting you go into the Soviet Union and risk your life over it?”
Remus shrugged. “I don’t mind.”
“What does Voldemort even want it for?”
“I don’t have the first idea, Sirius. It’s not like he gives me these orders himself, and even if he did, I can’t exactly question him.”
“You’re a Legilimens,” Sirius retorted.
“And I’m going to be able to use it on Voldemort without him catching on? I don’t think I’m quite that good, Sirius.”
“Then what are you playing at? If Voldemort won’t tell anyone what he’s planning-“
“Sirius, I am doing what Dumbledore tells me to do. It’s what I have to do. Do you understand?”
“No!” Sirius barked, and Remus sighed heavily at the flashing grey eyes and the anger etched across Sirius’s brow. “I don’t understand, and I want it to stop! We’re still losing people, and we’re still losing this war.”
“It’s not a war, anymore,” Remus muttered. “It’s a massacre.”
“And nothing you’ve been able to find out and tell us has won this war!” Sirius raged. “There are still spies on our side and ambushes we don’t know about and families killed in their homes!”
“That’s not my fault!” Remus retaliated, stung. “I can’t stop the entire force of Death Eaters, Sirius!”
“I didn’t say you could! But when they figure out what you’re doing, they’ll torture you until you talk, and then they’ll kill you!”
“I’d never talk.”
“They’ll kill you anyway, then! And no nice, neat Avadra Kedavra. They’d… they’d…” Sirius’s eyes flew wide and Remus knew he was seeing visions that were too gruesome and terrifying to put into words. But he knew them well, because they haunted his own nightmares as well. He walked over and laid a hand against Sirius’s back.
“It’s a risk we all take,” he said, knowing he was lying even as he said it. If Sirius was killed, it would be in battle. It would probably be quick. But Sirius drew away from his touch.
“I don’t want you going,” he insisted stubbornly.
“I’ll be fine. Actually, I’ll be safer on this trek to Leningrad than I would be here.”
“I don’t. Want. You going.”
There was a hot, dull ache behind Remus’s eyes. “I’m going.” Sirius muttered something in response. “What was that?”
“I don’t like that you’re actually grateful to the Death Eaters.”
“What?!”
“You want to go! I can tell! You’re excited about this trip!”
“Well, yes, if you want the truth! But that doesn’t mean-“
“It does too! It means that the Death Eaters are doing something for you that I can’t do!”
“Yes, they’re sending me on a mission that goes against everything I believe in, and I have to go because you know what? I don’t care about the damn reliquary but the person I’m going with is hovering on the edge, and if I keep after him maybe I can get him to help US. I am not trying to save the world anymore, Sirius! I am trying to save one single soul!”
“And what good does that do, when you might lose yours?”
“It is important!”
“How important can it be?”
"Important enough that Dumbledore wants me to continue!"
"That's not good enough!"
"It has to be!" Remus raged. "What other option do we have, Sirius?"
"You can not go to the Soviet bloody Union on the Death Eaters' orders!" Sirius thundered. "Refuse!"
"You know what would happen if I refused!" Remus shouted back. "You said it yourself! They'd kill me, Sirius! Like they almost did the first time!"
The color drained from Sirius's face. "I was exaggerating. It's not like that," he said, but they both knew it was exactly like that. Remus stared at him, helpless. "You don't have to go," Sirius repeated.
"I have to. I'll be all right, Sirius. In fact, I'm probably safer on this mission than I am here in London. Please, Sirius. It will be fine."
Sirius closed his eyes and turned back to the window, laying his forehead against the glass. "It's not that. It's that they're giving you something we can't give you."
"And it's not important," Remus insisted, coming to stand behind him. He touched Sirius's shoulder hesitantly. "Just because there's a bright side doesn't mean I'm out to join the Death Eaters. There are things that are more important to me than seeing the world."
"It's not seeing the world. It's freedom," Sirius said, his shoulder still stiff.
"And being told to go is freedom? Sirius, I have no more freedom under them than I do under us." He laid his head against Sirius's back, between the shoulder blades, and slid one arm around to Sirius's chest. "Please. Trust me."
Sirius caught his hand in his and squeezed. "I do."
***
The wail of the train's whistle echoed through the station, and Remus and Regulus sprinted to catch it, throwing themselves up the steps just in time. It was a small train, with only two passenger cars and the rest meant for cargo, but an unoccupied compartment was still easy to come by.
"We would have been here earlier if you hadn't had to stop and see that church," Regulus groused as they settled in their seats.
"We made it in time," Remus pointed out.
"Barely. This isn't a sight-seeing tour, Lupin. We're here on orders from the Dark Lord."
"But I'll…" Remus broke off, annoyed. "Never mind."
To his surprise, Regulus cocked his head. "But you what?"
"It's nothing."
"No. If you're going to drag me around the historical sites of Berlin, you're going to explain why." Regulus arched an eyebrow at him. "But you what?" he repeated.
"I'll probably never have the chance to see Berlin again," Remus muttered, sorting through his bag and pulling out a book.
"Well, whyever not?" Regulus asked. "Just get my brother," his lips twisted distastefully on the words, "to bring you back when all this is over."
"The Werewolf Registry won't let me come back."
"They will if the Dark Lord is in power."
"I doubt it," Remus said darkly.
"He's promised Dark Creatures who serve him their rights," Regulus said. The tone of his voice was petulant, and Remus noticed that his eyes lacked any fire of conviction.
"Look," he said, choosing his words as carefully as possible, trying not to sound too excited, "all through history dictators and governments have made promises like that. 'Fight for us and we'll give you your freedom.'"
"They follow through," Regulus argued. "Look at the American Civil War. Convicts were granted their freedom to fight for the South, and that wasn't retracted."
Remus raised his eyebrows, impressed. "That might be so, legally," he said. "And maybe it would happen for a few years. But the old prejudices never die, and you can never tell what will happen. Maybe Voldemort would give me my rights. But would a new Headmaster at Hogwarts hire me to teach? Would a shop owner still employ me? No. People would eventually be calling for Voldemort to hunt me down and stamp me out, and if he didn't do it, they'd do it on their own. Regulus, just look at the country we're going to to see how political promises don't pan out. Communism was supposed to bring wealth and prosperity for all. From what I understand, it hasn't. Promises are never kept."
Regulus sniffed. "You're a pessimist. And I hardly think comparing the Dark Lord to Lenin is accurate. Their ideologies are completely different."
"But the concept of promises made during wars is not," Remus argued.
"Answer me this, then," Regulus said. "At least the Dark Lord promises you your rights, which is far more than your side does. So how could anything he does be worse than what you have now?"
"You know how you asked me why I don't just go with Sirius when all this is over?" Remus asked.
"Yes."
"If Voldemort wins, there won't be a Sirius to go with. He'll be dead." Remus opened his book. "Now shut up and let me read."
***
The memo was on his desk that morning. Even before he opened it, Sirius knew its contents. The Aurors were being authorized to use the Unforgivable Curses in apprehending suspects; the situation was that desperate.
Sirius shrugged off his leather jacket slowly and laid it across the back of his chair, never taking his eyes off that piece of paper that gave him the right to torture, control, and kill. He sat down heavily, deliberately set the memo aside, and pulled forward the top folder on his stack of case files. Then he had to wonder if someone had placed it there deliberately, because the suspect in question- Walden Macnair- had the attack on the Lupins listed as one of his many supposed credentials.
The bright stale lights and cubicle walls faded, and once again he was in the Lupins' dark living room, with blinding flashes of spells and shouts echoing about him and the scents of ashes and blood sharp in his nostrils. His hands began to shake and the papers in the folder fell to the floor. His stomach twisted in panic and his muscles tensed to the point of pain as sweat sluiced down his back. In his head he could hear the shouting voices muffled by masks and Damien's hoarse cries, and all he could think was he had to save Marilyn, save Damien, save Remus.
Someone touched his shoulder and he grabbed his wand and spun around. "Stupefy!"
Time stopped for a long, sickening moment as Alice Longbottom's eyes widened and she fell to the floor, her pregnant body clumsy and heavy. He tried to dive forward and catch her, but his limbs wouldn't obey and all he could do was stand helpless, watching as she hit the ground. Someone shouted something- he couldn't make out the words- and he stared at her in horror.
A fist connected with his face, and time snapped back into motion as his head whipped around with the force of Frank's blow. From the corner of his eye, he saw Frank pulling back again and he braced himself, preparing for an impact that never came. Moody caught Frank's arm, smoothly and calmly, and Damien seized Sirius himself from behind.
He let himself be dragged away, still watching Alice's inert form with a sick sort of horror. "Is she…?" he whispered.
Damien shook his head. "I doubt it, although the baby-"
There was more to his sentence but Sirius didn't hear it. He had grabbed the waste paper basket and was locked in a battle of dry heaves.
When the attack subsided and he could look around, he was in Elphias Doge's office. Doge, Damien, Moody and Mulciber were all watching him, their wands at the ready.
"Alice?" he croaked out in a voice horse from strain.
"You have other problems right now, Black," Mulciber growled. "Should we bind him, do you think?"
"I've got his wand," Moody said, holding it up. "He won't get far."
"You don't need a wand to Apparate away," Mulciber muttered, but he quieted at a glance from Doge.
"This is the second time you've put a fellow Auror at risk," Doge said to Sirius. "I would like to hear your reason for this time. What happened?"
Sirius glanced around. All four faces were expressionless and stony. "It wasn't like last time," he began. "I was reading a case file and all of a sudden… well, I guess you'd call it a flashback." Even he cringed at how silly that sounded when he said it. "I was caught up in my thoughts and when Alice touched my shoulder, I didn't really think. I just reacted."
"Constant vigilance," Moody said, nodding.
"Not funny. And not necessary in the Ministry," Mulciber said sulkily. "Particularly in the Auror Headquarters,"
"Except there's someone trying to do in Aurors, and it looks like an inside job," Moody growled.
"Well, I'd say we have our most likely suspect. He tried to kill Longbottom and stunned… well, Longbottom."
"Ridiculous," Damien said, his voice low and threatening. "It was established that Sirius was under the Imperious curse last time, and this sounds like a psychological issue."
That statement made Doge's face twist, and Sirius's heart sped up as he wondered if his job was in danger, even as his throat closed at the defense.
"What was the flashback?" Doge asked.
With an apologetic look at Damien, Sirius answered, "The attack on the Lupin house last year. The case file I was reading was of someone who was suspected to be involved."
Mulciber snorted. "Ten points from Gryffindor for sentimentality."
"Watch it," Moody snapped, his wand raised and pointed at Damien, who was poised to attack.
"Mulciber, Lupin, I think we can handle this without your help." Doge flicked his wand and the door opened. "Mulciber, I want a full report on the raid on the Malfoy Manor on my desk by lunch. Lupin, I've got a lead for you on Stern: he was spotted at the Hogshead last night. Go follow up, immediately." He watched as the two men walked out. "And don't kill each other," he shouted as they left.
"Is it a good idea, putting Lupin on the Stern case?" Moody asked, his eyes still trained on Sirius.
"No, but we'll discuss it later, Alastor. Give Black his wand back."
It seemed to Sirius that Moody, for all the faith he'd seemed to display, was reluctant to hand the wand over, but he did so. With the smooth wood back under his fingers, Sirius felt calmer. He sat down in the chair Doge gestured to.
"Do you need a drink, Sirius?"
"Thank you." Sirius accepted a glass of water.
"So you had a flashback," Doge said.
"Yes, sir." Sirius sipped the water.
"Please describe it."
Warily, and worried now for the safety of his job, Sirius did so. Doge listened, his face impassive, his hands folded on his desk.
"Was this your first one?" he asked Sirius when he finished speaking.
Sirius considered it. "I think so. I've had nightmares about that night, but nothing quite like this."
"Do you have flashbacks of any of the other attacks? The Quidditch attack?"
"No, sir," Sirius lied, although none of them had been this intense.
"I see." Doge made a notation on a piece of paper in front of him. "Well then. I suggest you pull it together, Mr. Black. I understand that there are issues with the situations at hand that the mind does not simply deal with, but in light of how desperate our situation is becoming I can not afford to give you time to deal with this. If this in any way impacts your work again-"
"It won't," Sirius interrupted hastily.
Doge looked at him from under shaggy grey brows. "It wouldn't be the first time," he said, and his voice held a note of kindness. "And I'm sad to say it won't be the last. No more flashblacks."
"Yes sir." And with that, Sirius slunk out of the room.
***
They sat in silence all morning, Remus reading a mystery novel and Regulus working his way through Grindewald's Ghosts, a book Remus had always meant to read and never had about those who suffered in the 1940's. It struck him as an odd book for a young Death Eater to be reading, but perhaps the author would be a more powerful force on Regulus's mind than a half-blooded gay werewolf had the power to be. After a while he set down his own book and stared at out the window at the countryside rushing past.
He wished it was Sirius sitting across from him, and that this was an adventure and not a fool's mission. He could imagine Sirius sitting and reading a novel, chin propped on his hand as he did so, his feet tangling with Remus's. There would come a point where one of them would get tired and stretch out across the seat, his head pillowed in the other's lap. In fact, Remus lay down now, his head resting on his bag as he closed his eyes and tried to imagine it was Sirius's thighs beneath him. As he drifted off to sleep he imagined he heard Sirius's voice in his ears.
When we woke up Regulus was staring out the window chewing on his fingernails, a waxed paper packet beside him.
"Where are we?" Remus asked groggily, shaking his head to clear it.
Regulus jumped. "Poland, I think," he said absently. "Do you want something to eat?" He held out the packet. "The lunch cart came by. I got a sandwich, but I wasn't hungry." He leaned down and picked up a bottle. "I got you a drink as well."
It was without a doubt the most thoughtful (probably only thoughtful) gesture that Regulus had extended towards him. "Thank you," Remus said, taking the sandwich and the bottle. Regulus just shook his head and went back to staring out the window. Remus ate in silence.
"Do I look like my brother?" Regulus asked suddenly.
"Pardon?"
"Half the people I know say I look like him," Regulus said, now staring down at his hands, "but the other half say we look nothing alike. Do I look like him?"
"I can tell you're brothers," Remus answered thoughtfully. "Especially in the nose and jawline. But no, you don't look exactly like him or anything." He took a bite and chewed slowly. "Actually, you look more like I'd have throught your Uncle Alphard would have looked when he was our age."
"How the… did you know Alphard?"
"Yes." Remus took another bite. "Did you?"
"Why you impenitent-" Regulus began, but something in his head stopped whatever that line of thought was and he turned angrily back to the window. "Not really," he admitted after a long silence. "He was always traveling, and when he did come he was closer to Sirius. I always thought he didn't like me." Regulus chuckled dryly. "He probably didn't. He didn't like any of the Blacks much, did he?"
"He didn't like your father, no."
"But he believed in blood purity."
"Yes," Remus sighed. "He said so when Sirius ran away from home."
"That's what I've never understood," Regulus said, leaning forward suddenly. "I know he was upset when Sirius ran. When I saw him after that, he was kind of… well, it tore everyone in the family apart. Alphard was no exception. But he left Sirius his money anyway. Why?"
"Do you really want to know?" Remus asked. Regulus answered the question with a disdainful sneer, and Remus heaved a sigh. "All right, I get it. He was a werewolf."
Regulus blinked. "Who, Sirius?"
"No, Alphard. That's how I know him. We met at the Registry when I was ten, and we wrote for almost five years." Now Remus looked out the window, surprised at the tears pressing against his eyes. He blinked rapidly and his vision cleared. "But he told Sirius. And Sirius accepted it. That's why."
"Alphard didn't die of pneumonia, did he?" Regulus asked, catching on quickly.
"No."
"Does Sirius know that?"
"I don't know, to be honest. I've never told him, but Sirius is smart enough to put it together. He certainly knows the consequences if a werewolf kills and is captured."
Regulus sat back against the seat, thinking about it. "Do you think Uncle Alphard would have joined the Dark Lord?"
"No. I remember him saying something about it in a letter. Something about not being able to trust anyone who's after that much power. He was right. Voldemort isn't trying to work for the people he wants to rule- he wants power for himself. Voldemort's first- and only- priority is to Voldemort. Your uncle didn't trust him at all."
Regulus sighed and picked his book back up. "Sometimes, I can see why." He turned back to the book, indicating the conversation was over.
Remus picked up his own book, trying to still the hope that was burgeoning in him.
***
"And just how are you supposed to control that?" James demanded later that night. "No more flashbacks? It's not like you asked for one."
"I know," Sirius said glumly.
"Is Alice all right?" Lily asked anxiously.
"Yeah. They took her to St. Mungo's and they said the baby was fine."
"That's a relief."
"Tell me about it." Sirius shook his head. "I didn't mean to hurt her, much less the baby. I couldn't have forgiven myself if…." He shuddered. It was unthinkable.
"Do they really think it will be a problem?" James asked as Lily went into the kitchen to start dinner.
"I guess so. Look, Prongs, it does make a certain amount of sense. Aurors can't afford to be going to pieces. What if it happens while I'm tracking a Death Eater?"
"It's not that I don't understand," James said. "Believe me, I do. It's just you can't be the only one to deal with this. I mean, Mr. Lupin was defending his own home and his own family. Can you really tell me he hasn't had any flashbacks or other mental problems? Bloody hell, it took him a few months to be able to walk at a normal pace and he still limps, and yet they aren't threatening to shuttle him off to some other division."
"He's older," Lily shouted from the kitchen. "More experienced. He knows how to cope with it. Sirius will too, in time."
"But time is what we don't have," Sirius pointed out.
"Or manpower," James said.
"Well, then, what's your suggestion, Prongs? What do I do about this?" Sirius got up and started pacing. "I've been over and over it, but I can't come up with anything."
James thought, rubbing his hand across his upper lip. "Did anything trigger it?" he asked.
"Just seeing the file on a suspect in the case." Sirius shrugged. "I can't spell all the files to give me warning or anything."
"But you've seen those kinds of files before," James argued. "Did you and Remus fight today?"
"No, not today. He's away. You know that."
James eyed him shrewdly. "Did you fight before he left?" Sirius flushed, remembering the argument. James nodded. "What about?"
Sirius opened his mouth to explain, and then shut it awkwardly and looked at James helplessly. For the first time since he was eleven, he couldn't explain to James exactly what had happened. Not because he didn't know, but because James couldn't know that Remus was spying on the Death Eaters.
"What?" James asked. "Come on, Sirius. You can tell me."
"I can't," Sirius said miserably.
James's face tightened. "Look, I thought we were past this, Sirius. I thought you knew that you can talk to me about Remus."
"It's not that," Sirius insisted. "It's…" he tried to think of how to phrase it, especially has he had the sickening realization that James would be offended Remus hadn't told him about the assignment. Wouldn't he? "It was nothing, James," Sirius lied, feeling sick at the deception. "Just one of those stupid arguments."
James didn't believe him- Sirius could see it in his expression. But there was nothing he could say.
***
The train stopped, and Remus opened his eyes. "Border guards," he muttered unnecessarily, stretching. Regulus was still staring out the window, lost in thought.
It was a wizarding train, so Remus wasn't expecting men in uniform or… what was he expecting, anyway? He wasn't sure. What he got was a pair of wizards, both in red robes. The one had a bored, slackened look about him, whereas the second had a more pinched, strained expression. Neither one smiled. Remus gave Regulus (who had snapped out of his trance) a significant look, and Regulus rolled his eyes.
"Documenti, pozhalujsta," the sour-faced wizard snapped.
"Govorite li vy po angliyski?" Regulus asked.
"Nyet. Documenti, pozhalujsta."
Regulus sighed. "Get your papers out," he hissed at Remus, who really had been smart enough to figure that out and had done so. He handed them to Regulus, who handed them over to the border guards. They were snatched out of Regulus's hands, and the two guards poured over them, conversing in rapid Russian.
"Do you have any idea of what they're saying?" Remus asked quietly.
"Yes." There was a deathly silence from the two guards as they turned and looked at Remus, and then one short, angry word that sounded more like a curse than anything else.
"They just found that you're a werewolf," Regulus informed him.
"You think so?" Remus shot back sarcastically. Regulus fixed him with an icy glare of death. Remus noticed his face was much better suited for that expression than Sirius's had ever been. He rolled his eyes back and sat back, trying to act casual and as if the expression of the Soviet wizards wasn't affecting him in the least.
The truth was, it bothered him every time he saw it, and these days he was seeing it more and more often.
For some reason- perhaps because it was what he was used to- Remus was expecting trouble, but after a thorough examination the guards shoved their papers back at them and left the compartment. Eventually, the train lurched into motion again, and Remus peered out the window. The countryside didn't look any different, despite the fact they were in a completely different world than what he'd grown up in, but he was convinced it felt different. Regulus snorted again- his favorite means of expression- but Remus noticed he seemed just as fascinated as well, he just hid it better.
"So this is the Soviet Union," Remus finally said, just because it seemed like they should have some way of marking getting this far.
"Bugger off," Regulus said, picking up a new book.
Remus couldn't help laughing when he saw that it was We the Living.
***
The flat was quiet.
Sirius hadn't noticed it the day before because he'd spent his evening with James and Lily, and when he'd come home he'd been tired enough to fall asleep quickly. But tonight he was home alone, a plate of warmed-up leftovers, a bottle of beer, and an overwhelming silence.
"This is ridiculous," he said out loud. It was his imagination, but his voice echoed.
He ate his dinner as he read a book, focusing more on the pages in front of him than the food he ate. And then the chapter was finished and his dishes were cleaned and dried, and an entire evening alone stretched out in front of him.
It was stupid, Sirius told himself as he wandered the flat. It was stupid to feel out of sorts and alone, because he'd lived alone for months before Remus had moved in with him. There were all sorts of things he could do. There was that book he'd been reading, files to catch up on, friends he could go see… and yet, here he was, opening drawers idly.
The black writing caught his eye because it was familiar, but Sirius couldn't quite place it. It tickled the edges of his memory, but he couldn't quite place it. It was a sheaf of letters, all short, all detailing meeting places.
They were from a Death Eater.
Sirius felt his blood chill. It was ludicrous, of course. Absolutely ridiculous to feel like this. Remus was spying for Dumbledore. He was working with the Death Eaters. Of course there was contact. How had he thought the Death Eaters communicated with each other- telepathy? These letters were normal.
Except that they were mainly from the same Death Eater. The handwriting was consistent through over three quarters of the letters. And every time, Sirius couldn't shake the feeling that that handwriting was familiar.
His mind flashed back to Hogwarts as he tried to place who it could be. Perhaps Snivellus Snape. He'd certainly be foul enough to be a Death Eater, even if Sirius hadn't heard a whisper of his involvement in the Auror office. He remembered Remus's defense of Snape, the way he tried to get them to lay off, even when he and James were rightfully provoked….
He shook his head angrily and stuffed the letters back into the drawer. What would it matter if the Death Eater was Snape? Or anyone else they'd known at school? Remus was loyal, and Dumbledore would never let him spy if he had any doubts about that.
Sirius shut the drawer determinedly and stormed out of the bedroom, slamming the door. It was definitely time to get out of this flat- the emptiness was playing with his head. He grabbed his jacket, went outside, and climbed on the motorbike. As he flew off into the night, the cold air against his face blew away the unease and brought him back down to earth, as even as he soared through the sky.
***
The train lurched to a stop, the air clogged with soot and smoke. Remus peered out eagerly, ignoring Regulus's long-suffering sigh.
When Sirius traveled, Remus told himself that cities were cities, and places like Prague and Budapest and Paris and Frankfurt were probably very much like London or Dublin, only with different landmarks. He knew it wasn't true, but he forced himself to believe it anyway.
Now here was Leningrad spread before him, and Remus couldn't wait to jump off the train and explore it all.
"We'll have to find someplace to stay," Regulus was saying as he shrank his current book (Merlin's Trousers: The Life and Times of The Greatest Wizard Ever) and slipped it into his bag. "I have a list of places." They walked off the train and stepped down onto the platform, and Regulus looked about with a pleased expression. "We'll find something."
Remus nodded, but he wasn't really listening. Everywhere around him he could hear people talking in Russian. The language was so different from English, with sharp, crisp syllables and a completely different inflection to the words. Signs hung from the ceiling and on the wall, all in the Cyrillic alphabet which seemed more like an Ancient Runes test than a proper language to him. And everywhere, people were moving about their business. He was disappointed to see that they were dressed much like the Muggles he saw in London. The hats were a bit different, and perhaps the cut of the coats, but nothing overly exotic. Secretly, he hoped wizards were not the same.
Regulus was moving through the throng impatiently, peering up at signs and comparing them to a sheet of paper he was holding in his hand. Remus followed him out of the depot and into the street, completely lost and not caring in the least as his eyes took in the city of Leningrad.
Amazingly, Regulus did seem to know exactly where he was going. He walked through the streets with a quick, confident step, not looking around much except to glance at signs. Remus suddenly noticed for the first time that Regulus was wearing a plain robe that was obviously second-hand and wasn't wearing his ring, and as he looked around the street he decided that might not have been a bad idea. From what Remus knew of Soviet history, advertising that you were a member of the aristocracy of any sort was a bad idea.
But despite that, Leningrad wasn't quite what Remus was expecting. The little he'd read about Soviet Russia led him to expect extreme poverty visible everywhere, gray, grim faces, and guards constantly marching. And yet, Leningrad was reputed as one of the Soviet Union's most beautiful cities, and he could see that in the architecture, particularly the spire of the Peter and Paul Fortress, the dome of St. Isaac's Cathedral, and the Church of the Savior on the Spilled Blood. He was lost in thought about it when he crashed into Regulus, who had stopped suddenly. "This is it," Regulus informed him, as the inn appeared before them. It was a shabby little place, with the smell of onions and dill coming from a kitchen in the back. Remus followed Regulus in.
Regulus conversed with the innkeeper, a thin man with a consumptive face. Remus had to admit that he was impressed. As far as he knew, Sirius wasn't multilingual. He could speak English impeccably (when he so chose) and some smatterings of French (including all the dirty words), but nothing fluent. Not like the way Regulus was talking. Regulus slid a few Galleons across the tabletop and the innkeeper returned a pair of keys, and then gestured for them to follow him as he lead them to their room.
It wasn't as comfortable as those in the Leaky Cauldron, but there were two beds, both spread with faded red rugs. The wooden floor was bare, there was a small dresser, and a print with garish colors hanging over the lamp between the two beds. "I've never cared for Soviet art," Regulus said once the innkeeper had left them. "It's very block-like and crude."
Remus set his bag down on one of the beds. "Where are we?" he asked. "And don't tell me Leningrad," he said as Regulus opened his mouth. Regulus shut it promptly. "Where in Leningrad are we?"
Regulus pulled out a map and unfolded it, sitting down on his own bed. "We're here," he said, jabbing at an intersection. "The old Imperial Palace is over here." He pointed at a place halfway across the town. "There's an inn slightly closer, but I didn't want to be too obvious about what we're here for."
"And the Palace?" Remus asked. "What's that like?"
"Hard to say for sure," Regulus answered, rubbing his chin. "It's considered a State Museum now, but I don't think it's terribly well guarded, at least not by Muggles. From what I understand of Communism, any relation to the past and the bourgeois is deemed unpatriotic. So hopefully, the relics of the Imperial past have pretty much settled into dust under nice pretty glass cases. It shouldn't be any harder than some of the other jobs we've had."
"We can hope," Remus muttered, far less optimistic. "What about wizards? Rasputin was reputed to be one of the most powerful wizards ever. Surely they would guard anything to do with him- or destroy it. How do we even know this reliquary that Voldemort wants even still exists?"
"The Dark Lord said it does."
"Helpful," Remus muttered. "What does he want it for, anyway?"
Regulus shrugged. "I don't know. It doesn't make that much sense. I've read up on Rasputin, of course, and the only connection I can make between him and the Dark Lord is the quest for immortality. You've heard the story of Rasputin's death, right?"
"Poisoned, shot, drowned, and by some reports castrated?" Remus asked.
"Exactly. The Muggle history I read-"
"Wait. You read a Muggle history?"
Regulus glared at him. "Yes. Rasputin was a rare wizard in that he lived among Muggles and still used his magic. A most interesting case. But as I was saying, the Muggle account I read is skeptical of the story of Rasputin's death. There was no poison found in his blood during the autopsy, and the entire story of his death just doesn't really make sense." Regulus smiled nastily. "The Muggles didn't quite believe the entire thing. It was too elaborate. For instance, the Prince Felix invited him over that night with the lure that his wife would be there. However, Felix and Rasputin were friends in and of themselves. In fact," Regulus made a face that was disgust tempered with deep amusement as he watched Remus, "some say that Felix and Rasputin were more than friends, given that Felix was a gay transvestite."
"Funny," Remus said dryly.
"You don't know much about Rasputin, do you? He'd fuck anything. Quite an accomplishment, given that the man reputedly had the most intense body odor in the city. Of course," Regulus mused, "he was also reputed to have a thirteen inch cock."
Remus's eyes bulged out of his head. "Ouch," he said, before he could think of anything else to say. Regulus looked up, startled, and then began to laugh. It wasn't a long one, but it was a crack in his defenses. Remus smiled sheepishly.
"Anyway," Regulus said, bringing himself back under control, "the Muggles are skeptical. They suspect that Felix and his cohort Dmitri made up most of the story to cover for the fact that they were incompetent." He sniffed disdainfully.
"You don't believe that?"
"No. I suspect that Rasputin found some way of magically extending his life, and it was destroyed in the process. Or the method could only absorb so many assassination attempts."
"And you think that's what Voldemort's after?"
"I think that's exactly what Voldemort's after."
Remus nodded grimly. "Right then. So what are we going to do?"
***
They were running down the alley- Sirius could see a flicker of dark robes as their quarry turned the corner. His breath was coming fast and hard; these Death Eaters had given them a fight already. Three Aurors were still back at the warehouse where they'd ambushed the Death Eaters, and only two of them were still breathing.
"I'm getting too old for this," Sirius heard Moody mutter, and then he heard the crack of Apparation as Moody decided enough running was enough, and then the shouts in the alley ahead of him. Sirius and Frank rounded the corner, both trying to regain their breath as they prepared for what was coming.
Moody had successfully Apparated in front of the Death Eaters, and he had been joined by Damien Lupin, who must have had the same idea. With Sirius and Frank closing in from the back, the odds seemed quite good. The Death Eaters were surrounded, and there was no way out.
There were six of them, four of them in the dark robes and the masks that Sirius had come to expect, and two in ragged robes with some sort of cowl pulled across their face. Sirius didn't have time to wonder about the difference in costume as a Death Eater raised his wand and pointed it straight at him. "Sectumsempra!"
Fortunately, Sirius had been quick enough with a Shield Charm, and fired back with a hex of his own. But there was something about that voice, that curse… he knew it….
It couldn't matter right now though- this was no time to be trying to place voices in his memory. This was the time to be fighting, firing hexes and dodging spells.
It seemed never-ending. Sirius had only been out of school and in training for a matter of two years, and yet a part of him was tired, even as he fought. There was a sameness to it, each battle a firing and retaliation of hexes, defenses, curses, and charms. And the Death Eaters never seemed to dwindle in number. But the exhaustion was pushed aside as a curse whizzed past him, gashing his thigh.
It hurt, but like always, the pain could be pushed aside with adrenaline.
The colors of magic flared off the brick walls and the puddles by dumpsters, and yet nothing seemed to happen, not really, until two Death Eaters bore down on Frank, and suddenly the Auror was sprawled across the pavement, blood on his cheek and his temple. Sirius was abruptly aware of how far back he'd been pushed as he tried to run to Frank's inert body, the voice of his mind telling him the light wasn't green, the light wasn't green…. He saw Frank turn a little and the band around his chest released, until he saw the Death Eater raise their wand.
"Avada Kevadra!"
There was a flash of green light, and the Death Eater fell to the ground.
The other Death Eaters exchanged glances, and although Sirius was standing almost still in his shock he could feel that the tide of battle had turned. The Death Eaters had not expected the Killing Curse from this source, and now they knew at least two of the Aurors had enough power to perform it. Because Sirius knew, without a doubt, that Alastor Moody had not cast the Avada Kevadra. And with the look on Damien's face, Sirius would bet money he'd cast it again.
It didn't happen. Sirius heard that familiar voice again say "Portus", and they were all knocked over by the escaping Death Eaters who'd grabbed the Portkey. The force of the magic kicked sand up into his face, and Sirius closed his eyes and threw an arm up involuntarily. When he opened them, the Death Eaters were gone, save the one lying on the pavement.
The entire alley echoed with the silence. Sirius sat up, struggling to his feet slowly, eyes fixed on the black-robed figure before him. The woman- it was definitely a woman- lay perfectly still, as if she'd been frozen. He'd never seen a person killed in front of him by Avada Kedavra before, and he slowly bent down to remove her mask. Her face, the face of a thirty-something woman- was frozen in shock, her eyes still open.
The blood pounded in his ears.
Beside him, Frank groaned, and Sirius snapped his attention away, surprised to see the man still on the ground. He moved forward, his leg throbbing in response from where the Sectumsempra curse had hit. He knelt down, and his legs finally gave out so he was sitting beside Frank on the ground. Frank's eyes were glazed, but when Sirius touched him his pulse was strong and his skin was warm. He sighed with relief and looked up.
Moody was standing over the body of the dead Death Eater, an unreadable expression on his face. Damien came up beside him.
"Do you know who she is?"
"No. Do you?"
Damien shook his head. "Never seen her before." Sirius thought that he should look far more stricken to see a dead woman he'd never seen before lying on the ground, especially knowing that he'd killed her. But Damien looked about as distraught as if he'd killed a rat or some other small animal.
Moody bent over and closed her eyes. "Black, is Longbottom all right?"
Sirius tore his eyes away from Damien. "I think so. Badly concussed, though."
"Get him to St. Mungo's, and get that leg looked at, too. Lupin and I will make the report."
On to Part 2
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Date: 2006-01-13 10:19 pm (UTC)YEY!!! UPDATE!!! *dies*
*revives and reads*
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Date: 2006-01-13 11:01 pm (UTC)* has read and still cannot sitl still i n her chair for the CLIFFHANGING *
OMG, brilliant chapter! Love love love it! Remus and Regulus, and poor shaky Sirius, and that terrible sensation of the tightening of the noose and the losing of the war which you've portrayed just perfectly, it really made me feel short of breath. All the things that are going to start going wrong, I can see their footprints here, and it makes me cringe--but in a good way. Have I mentioned yet that I love this story? (perhaps you guessed?)
One typo I found:
Then he had to wonder if someone had placed it their deliberately SB there
* goes off to jump up and down repeatedly with adreneline *
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Date: 2006-01-14 12:32 am (UTC)I have such self-control. Okay, going to read now.
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Date: 2006-01-14 01:36 am (UTC)I'm so glad to hear Regulus will get a bigger role.
I love your writing style- my heart just breaks for both Sirius and Remus.
And on a side note- we were discussing Rasputin's 13 inch dick in AP World Class not to long ago- it was a very entertaining conversation- but I never knew he was murdered by his gay transvestite lover Prince Felix. I must do some reading up on history it would seem.
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Date: 2006-01-14 02:26 pm (UTC)And yeah, the next chapters are going to get darker and darker. But on the bright sides: a.) Harry is still on his way, and b.) There is no way I can end this without a PoA-timeframe epilogue. Otherwise I'd be too depressed myself!
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Date: 2006-01-14 02:29 pm (UTC)Yeah, it's funny. the whole Tonks thing didn't throw a single problem at me, because I already knew AIL!Remus was slightly bi. And my rationalization on the will is that Sirius NEEDED to leave everything to Harry for his own peace of mind, and Remus understood and supported that. But one little note and those three initials, and BOOM. My entire subplot needs changing, because Regulus has to go and be way too cool.
The Felix thing is only one theory that I found. I'm not sure how accurate it is. But the way I'm writing Regulus, he's up on his obscure theories and the more entertaining ones. (Plus, even if it's not true, he'd bring that one forward just to try to get a jab in at Remus.)
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Date: 2006-01-14 03:02 pm (UTC)Reg is awesome <3333
haha- that makes sense. Reg getting a jab at Remus I mean.
oh- and congrats on the baby!
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Date: 2006-01-14 03:03 pm (UTC)I just forgot to log in like the ditz I am! ^_^;;
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Date: 2006-01-14 10:28 pm (UTC)And hurrah for a PoA epilogue--that has potential for ending the story on a cheerful note. Excuse me.
* thows rotten vegetables at canon *
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Date: 2006-01-16 12:33 pm (UTC)(Plus, I still vastly prefer Tonks/Charlie anyway. I don't care if it IS entirely fandom.)
Ah well!
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Date: 2006-01-20 01:37 am (UTC)Or Peter. His dad died when we were all fourth years, you know.
I just killed Peter's dad off in
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Date: 2006-01-20 05:38 am (UTC)Ouch.
*love*
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Date: 2006-03-22 02:16 am (UTC)"If Voldemort wins, there won't be a Sirius to go with. He'll be dead."
Liked this entire argument. I'll be curious to see how Regulus feels about that later on. Actually, now that I've read this entire segment, I'll say that I've really enjoyed all the Regulus/Remus interactions.
And - ouch to hairtrigger Sirius.
couldn't shake the feeling that that handwriting was familiar
Peter? Snape?
all in the Cyrillic alphabet which seemed more like an Ancient Runes test than a proper language
I remember, when I first got my introductory Russian book, I understood for the first time what it must be like to be illiterate - to just have all these squiggles in front of me, with no way to resolve them into words. By the end of two weeks, we'd learned the whole alphabet and, even if I didn't know all the words, I could at least read them - sound them out, look them up, take a guess. Made all the difference in the world. (Side note - nice job with the Russian.)
On to the rest! I'm captivated, as always.