Another werewolf fic, Remus-centric, I started in 2006
This is another werewolf-centric, Remus-centric fic I started in 2006, but it's unrelated to the other one. In this one, the idea of the potion is what drove the idea for the plot.
This is also unnamed--I only have it labeled as "future dark" in my files.
Unnamed Remus-centric werewolf fic
by Ais
Originally started 8/2/06
10/21/14 note: I didn't leave myself a note for when this was set, exactly, but it has to be sometime in the HBP/DH era because it mentions what happened with Dumbledore. This was going to be S/R and is not R/T. See note at end.
* * *
The village was abandoned, doors half-torn off their hinges and furrows where powerful claws rent the wood in two. Remus Lupin held his wand ahead of him, tip lit with Lumos and senses straining for any sign of danger, but it was as silent as a grave. He could hear his own heart beating in his ears, a staccato beat tha-bum, tha-bum, that sang along his nerves and forced him to concentrate on keeping his fingers from wavering.
He was quiet, footfalls like breath upon the breeze, no trail to lead any enemies to his position, save the light.
A corner emerged before him, small alleyway to the left and the opening to the village center to his right, and for a second he caught the barest flicker of movement. Remus stilled instantly, head perked like a wolf on the scent, tilted his wand down and let the light fade. Whoever was there, whatever it was, they knew where he was.
Good.
Darkness loomed around him, a black cloak raised to the sky to blot the stars and settle around him in muffled, confused silence. He could hear his breath, steadier than it had any right to be, and though sweat had broken out along his neck and forehead, although his blood was racing with adrenaline and fear, he felt relatively calm. It was only the unknowing that was bothering him, the fact that he could not precisely predict what would strike, or when.
His eyes were still adjusting to the darkness but he noticed a vague glow to his left in the alleyway, and he followed it silently. Turning the corner, he saw that it was the ghost of a young woman. She smiled at him, serenely, her hair long and tangled with curls, half-covering her face. Her clothing was simple - a dress, an apron, a pair of sturdy shoes - and she drifted idly closer.
“You’re here,” she said softly, her voice gentle but captivating, “but you shouldn’t be.”
Remus did not answer, tried instead to look away and pay attention to his surroundings. He could see her smile widen in his peripheral vision, and she stepped closer, closer, an aura of cold following her like body heat would a living person.
“Are you lost, little wolf?”
Tension rose in his shoulders, more due to wariness for the environment and the ghost than from her words. He tightened his grip on his wand, readied in his mind all the curses he may need, and forced himself to stay still against the wall.
“Are you lost?” she asked again, stopped in front of him, kneeling down to smile up at him when she noticed that he was avoiding her gaze by watching the ground and straining his ears. His eyes met her visible one, and he found it incredibly difficult to look away. He could feel no enchantment on her, per se, but there was something about her that drew attention like water to a whirlpool’s center, slow at first but eventually inexorable and impossible to resist. He opened his mouth, but no words would come, for he needed to remain silent and had no answer for her anyway.
No, he was not lost. He knew where he was, why he was there.
Yes, he was lost. Had been since so many he had trusted died or disappeared.
Maybe he was; a yes and no answer for an idle question that held too much relevance.
“It’s alright,” she whispered. Her hands drifted up as if to cup his cheeks, to comfort him in his yes-no-maybe-loneliness. “We’re all lost here.”
She was tinged a vague blue, the color of souls refusing death and the beyond, but he was certain that once her eyes had been a brilliant green. He could see it peeking out even now, and in her smile he suddenly could see Lily, gentle in understanding, comforting in her presence. He blinked slowly, feeling lethargically startled at the connection, for the girl was not Lily and looked nothing like her, and how could he be certain this girl had green eyes anyway? They were the lifeless color of the dead, of ghosts, of unlife that continued even without a body.
“Come here, little wolf,” she murmured, and Remus found to his distant surprise that he was actually starting to kneel to get closer. “Come here and it will be alright. We can find you a home...”
A hand hit the packed dirt ground. He didn’t even know if it was the one with his wand and why did he think he needed that anyway? She was holding her hands out, voice soft and kind, expression welcoming and she was not breathing but he thought he could hear her heart beating distantly anyway, a soothing countermelody to his own. His other hand moved, and that was the one with the wand, because he could vaguely feel it grinding between his palm and the dirt, and it was uncomfortable but he could not for the life of him remember why it mattered -
The scuffing of a footfall gone wrong and it was all the warning Remus had before something slammed into him from his right. He went down hard, wand skittering across the alley to swirl through the girl’s foot and rest against the opposite wall. The clatter echoed in that empty town. For a moment, Remus could not properly breathe. A weight was on him, pinning him, and it was the stench of graveyard and rotting meat with the vague allure of magic like expensive perfume. Remus nearly gagged at the assault to his senses.
It was too dark to see but he knew what he dealt with; gathering his strength, he heaved the Inferius off him, where it staggered back to its feet. Rolling over, Remus threw himself upright, passing through the ghost of the girl and ignoring the unpleasant feeling, and he managed to just swipe his wand off the ground when the Inferius returned. Its hands were warmer than Remus expected; with the lack of body heat and blood, they should have been cold, but the Inferius was as a rock strewn on a path - warm from the vestiges of the sun’s light, slowly cooling to its natural state. Cracked, overgrown fingernails raked his arm through his robes, scrabbled up his chest to lock one arm around his throat and squeeze.
Remus reached up with one hand to pull at the arm, the other pointed his wand behind him and he thought furiously Incarcerous. Ropes bound the Inferius, wrapping it up shoulder to toe so that its arm dropped from his throat and the body wobbled and fell. It was the sound of dead weight hitting the ground, and it was true in this case - the Inferius truly was nothing but a corpse, animated by Dark magic.
Gasping for breath, Remus darted his gaze around quickly, searching the alley for other Inferi, but it was far too dark to tell. He should light his wand again, but it was too early for that; he did not have enough information yet to risk a premature attack.
“You killed him,” the ghost girl said calmly, trailing around the Inferius who had ceased moving the moment it fell. She stared down at it, a vague smile on her lips, her hand at her side as if it were floating in water. “Do you suppose that hurt, falling like that? Do they think they’re alive while they go for you?”
“They?” Remus asked, and his voice was hoarse, but quiet. It was the first thing he had said in a long while, his gaze only occasionally lingering on the girl.
“There couldn’t be just one, could there?” Her voice was dreamy as she knelt at the Inferius’ side. She reached out, as if to brush the lax dark hair from the dead man’s face, but of course her fingers could not touch him. “It is said dead men tell no tales, but they always seem to know well enough where their victims are.” She looked up at him, and again Remus saw a spark of Lily in her expression, the smile that held a challenge and a bit of mischief. “You will be dead like them soon... A poor, young corpse, ready for possession.”
“Perhaps.” Remus rubbed one hand idly against his throat, his other holding tight to his wand in case of another attack.
“No.” The ghost stood and moved to hover in front of him. She smiled softly, one hand reaching up toward his cheek. “It is certain.”
Another scrape, so soft it almost could not be heard, but this time Remus was expecting it. He faced the edge of the alley, saw forms drifting between the buildings, great clumps of darker shadows converging and dispersing, slowly, like ripples in an mirrored lake. Behind him, another scuff, and he knew without bothering to look that he was surrounded, caught in the alley between more Inferi than he cared to count.
“How special you are,” the ghost said pleasantly, looking upon the army of the dead as if they were guests at his party. “So many for one man.”
Remus said nothing, but it was true. Even with the information they had purposefully leaked - a member of the Order coming to investigate, alone and thus as vulnerable as any of them were likely to get - there was no need for such a horde. Unless -
He looked to the girl suddenly, and saw that her smile was now a grin, and far from serene. There was cruelty to the edge of her mouth, now, like the hidden fury of the Veela who masked their true face with fake beauty.
Little wolf, she had called him. He stared at her, ignoring the Inferi as they moved closer, the ones in front raising their hands to reach for him though they were still several feet away.
“So it’s true,” he said, looking at the ghost girl so intently it was almost accusatory. “They’ve made it - “
“How clever,” she said, drifting until she stood between the army closest and him. Her grin widened, and when she tilted her head, he could see that beneath her hair lay a ravaged face, scarred and deformed and surely what killed her. “The Dark Lord is a very caring master, giving his followers so much freedom to advance...”
“They’ve made it,” Remus said firmly. He noted that the Inferi had ceased moving a few feet from him in front and behind. “He searches for what, now? Converts? Victims - “
The girl laughed, throwing her head back and shaking her hair away from the disfigured side of her face. Gone was the serene pleasantry from before; hers was the look of hunger and slowly revealed insanity. “Both, all, but ingredients too, surely.”
Remus stared at her a moment, his mind working furiously. “Blood,” he said softly after a moment, tightening his fingers on his wand.
“The famous intellect of a Hogwarts graduate,” she said softly, her eyes narrowed. “But surely you knew all this, to have reached the conclusions so easily?” She drifted closer. Remus said nothing and she smiled coldly, the flesh around her lips on the left side rent in two, peeled back so her teeth were visible even with her mouth closed.
“You’re wondering why I’m telling you this.” She moved forward again, looking up into his eyes greedily, as if she hoped to see him terrified or angry, as if the emotions would please her. “Why should we confirm your fears? We are here to kill you, are we not?”
Again, Remus did not reply, but he narrowed his eyes minutely, his expression falling completely blank.
“Ahh, but there are so many ways to kill mortals, and so fewer for werewolves,” she murmured. Remus glanced past her briefly when he noticed the Inferi were drawing closer again. “And why kill, when we can detain?”
“I don’t understand,” Remus said, although he thought with a chill that he might after all. He stood completely still, tense; even though she was a ghost, it was uncomfortable to have her so close, and had she been alive her body would have been pressed against his, her fingers drifting gently up and down his cheek.
“The blood of a werewolf, did you know it is like wine? The longer it exists, the more delicious it becomes, the stronger.” Her voice was a soft caress, hungry and enchanting.
“You are a ghost, not a vampire,” he said mildly, stepping back to put distance between them.
“True, but I still know such things. And you, who were bitten decades ago, you are still young but not as young as others. An enemy to your kind, fighting for those mundanes,” and she spat the word as the purebloods so often spat Mudblood or half-blood, “as if you did not realize what we have to offer.”
“Violence and murder and degradation to humanity; that is all you have.” Remus stepped back once more but had to pause, as soon it would bring him within arm’s length of the Inferi at his back.
“Humanity?” She laughed again, sounding truly amused. “What self-respecting werewolf wishes to be pathetic like them, ever again? Ours is the power of the Earth, the wolf and the moon, we are untamable, indestructible - “
“You were killed easily enough,” Remus said, in a rare show of rudeness.
He did not like this village anymore. Not that he particularly enjoyed it before, but now it was crawling with things he found far more repulsive than dead bodies and shadows as dark as Voldemort’s soul. Something in the air sang along his nerves, of violence and a complete lack of control, of claws digging into the earth and the bounding, endless freedom of grinning fangs that glinted in the moonlight. He tried not to notice that the hair on his arms had lifted, or that he felt something cold and fearful settle in the pit of his stomach.
“I gave my life willingly for the cause." She smiled with a ravaged mouth and an eye nearly slashed from existence.
“You’re willing to die so they can Change others - “
“Change?” Her smile toyed at the edge of her lips, playful and cruelly amused. “We will do more than that. We will be completely free - a feast spread before us - anything and anyone we want - “
“Murderers set free in the midst of a war,” Remus said, staring intently. “Is that truly your goal?” She only smiled at him, saying nothing. Remus shook his head, frustrated but knowing that there was no reason to wait any longer. “You’ve told me enough.”
“Not yet, little wolf, not nearly.” Her smile grew. “Do you not wonder why they don’t attack? They stand there, ready to rend you limb from limb, to pull that puny wand from your hands and let your blood paint the ground a more delicious color - “
“I can only assume there are orders,” Remus said mildly, looking utterly unconcerned.
“Yes, there are. There always are.” She drifted closer to him, getting within his personal space once more, her smile bordering on fanatic. “For you, we get to play. Like so many, you had the honor of being turned by Fenrir so young - “ Remus’ expression closed off completely at the comment, and she looked amused. “ - We know these things, now, though you were unimportant at the time - just another conquest, another point to make to another stupid man... Another beautiful child for the great Greyback to taste.
“All this, yet you resisted our offers before - still insist on trying to change the views of so many packs. Did you really believe it would go unnoticed for long? You, who so openly devoted yourself to those disgusting humans, to simple-minded Dumbledore and his pathetic little Order, did you think you would get away? And now, when he died so easily, when you’ve no one to protect you, did you truly think it safe to come here?” She paused. “Or did you think it a clever ploy? Lure the enemy out with the thought of a vulnerable Order member, who could be tortured into revealing secrets as of yet untold? A brilliant idea, truly... It sounds the perfect end to this night.”
Remus let no emotion onto his face, but his eyes narrowed very slightly and his hand tightened on his wand. She looked down, noticing his white knuckles, and trailed her gaze idly back up to his eyes with a dark little smile.
“Oh, no, no, we will not attack you tonight. The Inferi are only here to make a point... We know who you are, we know all about you, and we are far stronger and highly numbered than you. You are utterly unimportant to so many, but for us, we get to play. So run, hide, try to be untraceable, little wolf, because we will find you.”
She moved closer again, part of her insubstantial body tingling unpleasantly along his skin as she passed through him. She stared into his eyes so strongly that he could not look away, and her whisper brought a tingle of fear up his spine. “And when we do, we will tie you down and take your blood, little by little, letting you suffer the violation and torment, and we will use it for the wolfsblood to burn into the bodies of newly turned children everywhere. We will create an army of werewolves, suitable for the Liberation, and we will make you watch every moment until we kill or convert you too.”
Remus stared at her, his heart pounding though his expression remained remote, and when he spoke, his voice was still steady. “A remarkable amount of forethought and hatred for one so unimportant as me.”
“Oh, no need to worry, Remus,” she said softly, and he tried to ignore how much he disliked hearing his name come from her lips, “You always were, and will always remain, a supremely unimportant, forgettable person. We have no interest in you as a man, but you will be a beautiful, traitorous werewolf to destroy.”
Her smile was the same sweet serenity from before, and when she stepped back, he felt cold along every part of his body that had nothing to do with her presence. They stared at each other for a long moment before Remus looked away and, saying nothing, Disapparated.
He could hear her laughing as the familiar, unpleasant sensation of being shoved through a tube too small surrounded him, and he tried to tell himself it was only vertigo from the spell that made him feel so nauseated when he reappeared, safe, miles away in his hideout.
Remus immediately sent his Patronus out with a message to the other Order members - the rumor was true, he would give a more detailed report next meeting, beware the werewolves and be ready to fear them even without the full moon. To Tonks, he added a special message - that he was fine, and would be returning soon, and they needed to talk.
After that, he did as many mundane tasks as it took to calm his hands back to complete steadiness, and his mind to the familiar one-step-removed logic he had spent a lifetime nurturing.
The Inferi or ghost girl would not be there that night. They did not (or should not), for instance, know his whereabouts so soon, and were far enough away that it would take them awhile to reach him anyway. The ghost girl was likely tied to that spot; no doubt she could wander, but he doubted that she could travel nearly as far as she would need to in order to reach Remus’ current hideout. Furthermore, they clearly wanted to give him the message to spook him, perhaps scare him into revealing the whereabouts of his fellow Order members, or his own position. He knew the Patronus would not become an issue, for it was a powerful anti-Dark magic weapon, and was quick and incorporeal enough that it could be discreet when necessary, but anything else would be too much to hope for at the moment.
He dare not leave for Headquarters any time soon, and instinctively knew that though they planned to play with him, it would be best on their end if he had time to sit alone in fear first. They would wait, and attack when he was least expecting, and when they did, it would be personal.
Logically, he knew this all to be the case, and in some perverse way, he found comfort in the thought. He did not particularly want to die, and he was repulsed by the idea of being even an unwilling aid to the destruction of anyone else’s life, but overall he could not feel as disturbed by the recent turn of events as he felt he should be. He should feel terrified, scrambling for cover, trying to decide how best to protect his life and break down the enemy before they could break him down.
But it did not matter, not really.
Remus was not the sort of person to get lost in self-pity or despair, but it did not mean he never felt it. His was certainly not the most glamorous of lives, or the easiest, and there was no doubt that it had become more stressful and difficult in the last few years. At the rate it was going, he thought bemusedly, he was going to be completely grey-haired by thirty-nine, white-haired by forty, and perhaps bald by forty-five. Nearly everyone he could think of that he had held great respect or trust for had already died or was in mortal peril on the forefront of the war, and it all seemed rather too much to continue to bother with.
It was not that he wanted to die, but, if and when it should happen, as long as he could do his best to take out as many as possible and take away his chance of being a detriment to anyone else, he would be pleased. What else could a person hope for, but to minimize the damage of their own existence and death?
Feeling unsettled but pragmatic, Remus lay down to sleep as soon as possible, and if his eyes remained open and mind speeding for a long time afterward, well, it was only the heat of the night and the distant howling of the wolves.
-----------------------------------------------
This fic was going to be S/R (I was going to find a way for Sirius to come back alive) and there was no R/T in it. I originally wrote it planning for Tonks to have shown interest as she did in HBP and for Remus to rebuff her completely and it never to become a thing, but I think if I continued this I'd rather write it as them being just friends sharing mutual sadness and grief over losing Sirius, who don't feel like they have to put up a front around the other. So the note he would be sending her would be in honor of that.
I think I planned to write Remus having to be on the run and about the werewolf attacks and so on. Also, if I were to continue it now, I suspect I'd include in that his searching for a way to bring Sirius back from the veil.
Incidentally, I had taken a whole part out at one point by where it mentioned Tonks. This is one part of that excerpt, which mentions the wolfsblood potion a little better:
If anything, he was more dangerous now than he ever had been before. And if they truly had created the wolfsblood - if they now had the poison that could render the bite of a werewolf infectious and as damaging at any phase as on the full moon - if, it was vaguely rumored and they feared it was true, the potion could even let a werewolf transform briefly even without the full moon --
If this were all true, and it was they who sought his life and death, then there was nothing safer and more important than for Remus to be far from everyone else. He had already lost far too many people he cared for to ever risk anyone again. He would rather die than betray his friends, or commit suicide by burning all his blood to mist before he let it be used to destroy the lives of anyone else.
--
Not sure if I would update the potion or not..
Also, sorry--I would've done a better job editing these two fics but it's super late, I'm really tired, and it probably doesn't matter since they're only partially written anyway.
This is also unnamed--I only have it labeled as "future dark" in my files.
Unnamed Remus-centric werewolf fic
by Ais
Originally started 8/2/06
10/21/14 note: I didn't leave myself a note for when this was set, exactly, but it has to be sometime in the HBP/DH era because it mentions what happened with Dumbledore. This was going to be S/R and is not R/T. See note at end.
* * *
The village was abandoned, doors half-torn off their hinges and furrows where powerful claws rent the wood in two. Remus Lupin held his wand ahead of him, tip lit with Lumos and senses straining for any sign of danger, but it was as silent as a grave. He could hear his own heart beating in his ears, a staccato beat tha-bum, tha-bum, that sang along his nerves and forced him to concentrate on keeping his fingers from wavering.
He was quiet, footfalls like breath upon the breeze, no trail to lead any enemies to his position, save the light.
A corner emerged before him, small alleyway to the left and the opening to the village center to his right, and for a second he caught the barest flicker of movement. Remus stilled instantly, head perked like a wolf on the scent, tilted his wand down and let the light fade. Whoever was there, whatever it was, they knew where he was.
Good.
Darkness loomed around him, a black cloak raised to the sky to blot the stars and settle around him in muffled, confused silence. He could hear his breath, steadier than it had any right to be, and though sweat had broken out along his neck and forehead, although his blood was racing with adrenaline and fear, he felt relatively calm. It was only the unknowing that was bothering him, the fact that he could not precisely predict what would strike, or when.
His eyes were still adjusting to the darkness but he noticed a vague glow to his left in the alleyway, and he followed it silently. Turning the corner, he saw that it was the ghost of a young woman. She smiled at him, serenely, her hair long and tangled with curls, half-covering her face. Her clothing was simple - a dress, an apron, a pair of sturdy shoes - and she drifted idly closer.
“You’re here,” she said softly, her voice gentle but captivating, “but you shouldn’t be.”
Remus did not answer, tried instead to look away and pay attention to his surroundings. He could see her smile widen in his peripheral vision, and she stepped closer, closer, an aura of cold following her like body heat would a living person.
“Are you lost, little wolf?”
Tension rose in his shoulders, more due to wariness for the environment and the ghost than from her words. He tightened his grip on his wand, readied in his mind all the curses he may need, and forced himself to stay still against the wall.
“Are you lost?” she asked again, stopped in front of him, kneeling down to smile up at him when she noticed that he was avoiding her gaze by watching the ground and straining his ears. His eyes met her visible one, and he found it incredibly difficult to look away. He could feel no enchantment on her, per se, but there was something about her that drew attention like water to a whirlpool’s center, slow at first but eventually inexorable and impossible to resist. He opened his mouth, but no words would come, for he needed to remain silent and had no answer for her anyway.
No, he was not lost. He knew where he was, why he was there.
Yes, he was lost. Had been since so many he had trusted died or disappeared.
Maybe he was; a yes and no answer for an idle question that held too much relevance.
“It’s alright,” she whispered. Her hands drifted up as if to cup his cheeks, to comfort him in his yes-no-maybe-loneliness. “We’re all lost here.”
She was tinged a vague blue, the color of souls refusing death and the beyond, but he was certain that once her eyes had been a brilliant green. He could see it peeking out even now, and in her smile he suddenly could see Lily, gentle in understanding, comforting in her presence. He blinked slowly, feeling lethargically startled at the connection, for the girl was not Lily and looked nothing like her, and how could he be certain this girl had green eyes anyway? They were the lifeless color of the dead, of ghosts, of unlife that continued even without a body.
“Come here, little wolf,” she murmured, and Remus found to his distant surprise that he was actually starting to kneel to get closer. “Come here and it will be alright. We can find you a home...”
A hand hit the packed dirt ground. He didn’t even know if it was the one with his wand and why did he think he needed that anyway? She was holding her hands out, voice soft and kind, expression welcoming and she was not breathing but he thought he could hear her heart beating distantly anyway, a soothing countermelody to his own. His other hand moved, and that was the one with the wand, because he could vaguely feel it grinding between his palm and the dirt, and it was uncomfortable but he could not for the life of him remember why it mattered -
The scuffing of a footfall gone wrong and it was all the warning Remus had before something slammed into him from his right. He went down hard, wand skittering across the alley to swirl through the girl’s foot and rest against the opposite wall. The clatter echoed in that empty town. For a moment, Remus could not properly breathe. A weight was on him, pinning him, and it was the stench of graveyard and rotting meat with the vague allure of magic like expensive perfume. Remus nearly gagged at the assault to his senses.
It was too dark to see but he knew what he dealt with; gathering his strength, he heaved the Inferius off him, where it staggered back to its feet. Rolling over, Remus threw himself upright, passing through the ghost of the girl and ignoring the unpleasant feeling, and he managed to just swipe his wand off the ground when the Inferius returned. Its hands were warmer than Remus expected; with the lack of body heat and blood, they should have been cold, but the Inferius was as a rock strewn on a path - warm from the vestiges of the sun’s light, slowly cooling to its natural state. Cracked, overgrown fingernails raked his arm through his robes, scrabbled up his chest to lock one arm around his throat and squeeze.
Remus reached up with one hand to pull at the arm, the other pointed his wand behind him and he thought furiously Incarcerous. Ropes bound the Inferius, wrapping it up shoulder to toe so that its arm dropped from his throat and the body wobbled and fell. It was the sound of dead weight hitting the ground, and it was true in this case - the Inferius truly was nothing but a corpse, animated by Dark magic.
Gasping for breath, Remus darted his gaze around quickly, searching the alley for other Inferi, but it was far too dark to tell. He should light his wand again, but it was too early for that; he did not have enough information yet to risk a premature attack.
“You killed him,” the ghost girl said calmly, trailing around the Inferius who had ceased moving the moment it fell. She stared down at it, a vague smile on her lips, her hand at her side as if it were floating in water. “Do you suppose that hurt, falling like that? Do they think they’re alive while they go for you?”
“They?” Remus asked, and his voice was hoarse, but quiet. It was the first thing he had said in a long while, his gaze only occasionally lingering on the girl.
“There couldn’t be just one, could there?” Her voice was dreamy as she knelt at the Inferius’ side. She reached out, as if to brush the lax dark hair from the dead man’s face, but of course her fingers could not touch him. “It is said dead men tell no tales, but they always seem to know well enough where their victims are.” She looked up at him, and again Remus saw a spark of Lily in her expression, the smile that held a challenge and a bit of mischief. “You will be dead like them soon... A poor, young corpse, ready for possession.”
“Perhaps.” Remus rubbed one hand idly against his throat, his other holding tight to his wand in case of another attack.
“No.” The ghost stood and moved to hover in front of him. She smiled softly, one hand reaching up toward his cheek. “It is certain.”
Another scrape, so soft it almost could not be heard, but this time Remus was expecting it. He faced the edge of the alley, saw forms drifting between the buildings, great clumps of darker shadows converging and dispersing, slowly, like ripples in an mirrored lake. Behind him, another scuff, and he knew without bothering to look that he was surrounded, caught in the alley between more Inferi than he cared to count.
“How special you are,” the ghost said pleasantly, looking upon the army of the dead as if they were guests at his party. “So many for one man.”
Remus said nothing, but it was true. Even with the information they had purposefully leaked - a member of the Order coming to investigate, alone and thus as vulnerable as any of them were likely to get - there was no need for such a horde. Unless -
He looked to the girl suddenly, and saw that her smile was now a grin, and far from serene. There was cruelty to the edge of her mouth, now, like the hidden fury of the Veela who masked their true face with fake beauty.
Little wolf, she had called him. He stared at her, ignoring the Inferi as they moved closer, the ones in front raising their hands to reach for him though they were still several feet away.
“So it’s true,” he said, looking at the ghost girl so intently it was almost accusatory. “They’ve made it - “
“How clever,” she said, drifting until she stood between the army closest and him. Her grin widened, and when she tilted her head, he could see that beneath her hair lay a ravaged face, scarred and deformed and surely what killed her. “The Dark Lord is a very caring master, giving his followers so much freedom to advance...”
“They’ve made it,” Remus said firmly. He noted that the Inferi had ceased moving a few feet from him in front and behind. “He searches for what, now? Converts? Victims - “
The girl laughed, throwing her head back and shaking her hair away from the disfigured side of her face. Gone was the serene pleasantry from before; hers was the look of hunger and slowly revealed insanity. “Both, all, but ingredients too, surely.”
Remus stared at her a moment, his mind working furiously. “Blood,” he said softly after a moment, tightening his fingers on his wand.
“The famous intellect of a Hogwarts graduate,” she said softly, her eyes narrowed. “But surely you knew all this, to have reached the conclusions so easily?” She drifted closer. Remus said nothing and she smiled coldly, the flesh around her lips on the left side rent in two, peeled back so her teeth were visible even with her mouth closed.
“You’re wondering why I’m telling you this.” She moved forward again, looking up into his eyes greedily, as if she hoped to see him terrified or angry, as if the emotions would please her. “Why should we confirm your fears? We are here to kill you, are we not?”
Again, Remus did not reply, but he narrowed his eyes minutely, his expression falling completely blank.
“Ahh, but there are so many ways to kill mortals, and so fewer for werewolves,” she murmured. Remus glanced past her briefly when he noticed the Inferi were drawing closer again. “And why kill, when we can detain?”
“I don’t understand,” Remus said, although he thought with a chill that he might after all. He stood completely still, tense; even though she was a ghost, it was uncomfortable to have her so close, and had she been alive her body would have been pressed against his, her fingers drifting gently up and down his cheek.
“The blood of a werewolf, did you know it is like wine? The longer it exists, the more delicious it becomes, the stronger.” Her voice was a soft caress, hungry and enchanting.
“You are a ghost, not a vampire,” he said mildly, stepping back to put distance between them.
“True, but I still know such things. And you, who were bitten decades ago, you are still young but not as young as others. An enemy to your kind, fighting for those mundanes,” and she spat the word as the purebloods so often spat Mudblood or half-blood, “as if you did not realize what we have to offer.”
“Violence and murder and degradation to humanity; that is all you have.” Remus stepped back once more but had to pause, as soon it would bring him within arm’s length of the Inferi at his back.
“Humanity?” She laughed again, sounding truly amused. “What self-respecting werewolf wishes to be pathetic like them, ever again? Ours is the power of the Earth, the wolf and the moon, we are untamable, indestructible - “
“You were killed easily enough,” Remus said, in a rare show of rudeness.
He did not like this village anymore. Not that he particularly enjoyed it before, but now it was crawling with things he found far more repulsive than dead bodies and shadows as dark as Voldemort’s soul. Something in the air sang along his nerves, of violence and a complete lack of control, of claws digging into the earth and the bounding, endless freedom of grinning fangs that glinted in the moonlight. He tried not to notice that the hair on his arms had lifted, or that he felt something cold and fearful settle in the pit of his stomach.
“I gave my life willingly for the cause." She smiled with a ravaged mouth and an eye nearly slashed from existence.
“You’re willing to die so they can Change others - “
“Change?” Her smile toyed at the edge of her lips, playful and cruelly amused. “We will do more than that. We will be completely free - a feast spread before us - anything and anyone we want - “
“Murderers set free in the midst of a war,” Remus said, staring intently. “Is that truly your goal?” She only smiled at him, saying nothing. Remus shook his head, frustrated but knowing that there was no reason to wait any longer. “You’ve told me enough.”
“Not yet, little wolf, not nearly.” Her smile grew. “Do you not wonder why they don’t attack? They stand there, ready to rend you limb from limb, to pull that puny wand from your hands and let your blood paint the ground a more delicious color - “
“I can only assume there are orders,” Remus said mildly, looking utterly unconcerned.
“Yes, there are. There always are.” She drifted closer to him, getting within his personal space once more, her smile bordering on fanatic. “For you, we get to play. Like so many, you had the honor of being turned by Fenrir so young - “ Remus’ expression closed off completely at the comment, and she looked amused. “ - We know these things, now, though you were unimportant at the time - just another conquest, another point to make to another stupid man... Another beautiful child for the great Greyback to taste.
“All this, yet you resisted our offers before - still insist on trying to change the views of so many packs. Did you really believe it would go unnoticed for long? You, who so openly devoted yourself to those disgusting humans, to simple-minded Dumbledore and his pathetic little Order, did you think you would get away? And now, when he died so easily, when you’ve no one to protect you, did you truly think it safe to come here?” She paused. “Or did you think it a clever ploy? Lure the enemy out with the thought of a vulnerable Order member, who could be tortured into revealing secrets as of yet untold? A brilliant idea, truly... It sounds the perfect end to this night.”
Remus let no emotion onto his face, but his eyes narrowed very slightly and his hand tightened on his wand. She looked down, noticing his white knuckles, and trailed her gaze idly back up to his eyes with a dark little smile.
“Oh, no, no, we will not attack you tonight. The Inferi are only here to make a point... We know who you are, we know all about you, and we are far stronger and highly numbered than you. You are utterly unimportant to so many, but for us, we get to play. So run, hide, try to be untraceable, little wolf, because we will find you.”
She moved closer again, part of her insubstantial body tingling unpleasantly along his skin as she passed through him. She stared into his eyes so strongly that he could not look away, and her whisper brought a tingle of fear up his spine. “And when we do, we will tie you down and take your blood, little by little, letting you suffer the violation and torment, and we will use it for the wolfsblood to burn into the bodies of newly turned children everywhere. We will create an army of werewolves, suitable for the Liberation, and we will make you watch every moment until we kill or convert you too.”
Remus stared at her, his heart pounding though his expression remained remote, and when he spoke, his voice was still steady. “A remarkable amount of forethought and hatred for one so unimportant as me.”
“Oh, no need to worry, Remus,” she said softly, and he tried to ignore how much he disliked hearing his name come from her lips, “You always were, and will always remain, a supremely unimportant, forgettable person. We have no interest in you as a man, but you will be a beautiful, traitorous werewolf to destroy.”
Her smile was the same sweet serenity from before, and when she stepped back, he felt cold along every part of his body that had nothing to do with her presence. They stared at each other for a long moment before Remus looked away and, saying nothing, Disapparated.
He could hear her laughing as the familiar, unpleasant sensation of being shoved through a tube too small surrounded him, and he tried to tell himself it was only vertigo from the spell that made him feel so nauseated when he reappeared, safe, miles away in his hideout.
Remus immediately sent his Patronus out with a message to the other Order members - the rumor was true, he would give a more detailed report next meeting, beware the werewolves and be ready to fear them even without the full moon. To Tonks, he added a special message - that he was fine, and would be returning soon, and they needed to talk.
After that, he did as many mundane tasks as it took to calm his hands back to complete steadiness, and his mind to the familiar one-step-removed logic he had spent a lifetime nurturing.
The Inferi or ghost girl would not be there that night. They did not (or should not), for instance, know his whereabouts so soon, and were far enough away that it would take them awhile to reach him anyway. The ghost girl was likely tied to that spot; no doubt she could wander, but he doubted that she could travel nearly as far as she would need to in order to reach Remus’ current hideout. Furthermore, they clearly wanted to give him the message to spook him, perhaps scare him into revealing the whereabouts of his fellow Order members, or his own position. He knew the Patronus would not become an issue, for it was a powerful anti-Dark magic weapon, and was quick and incorporeal enough that it could be discreet when necessary, but anything else would be too much to hope for at the moment.
He dare not leave for Headquarters any time soon, and instinctively knew that though they planned to play with him, it would be best on their end if he had time to sit alone in fear first. They would wait, and attack when he was least expecting, and when they did, it would be personal.
Logically, he knew this all to be the case, and in some perverse way, he found comfort in the thought. He did not particularly want to die, and he was repulsed by the idea of being even an unwilling aid to the destruction of anyone else’s life, but overall he could not feel as disturbed by the recent turn of events as he felt he should be. He should feel terrified, scrambling for cover, trying to decide how best to protect his life and break down the enemy before they could break him down.
But it did not matter, not really.
Remus was not the sort of person to get lost in self-pity or despair, but it did not mean he never felt it. His was certainly not the most glamorous of lives, or the easiest, and there was no doubt that it had become more stressful and difficult in the last few years. At the rate it was going, he thought bemusedly, he was going to be completely grey-haired by thirty-nine, white-haired by forty, and perhaps bald by forty-five. Nearly everyone he could think of that he had held great respect or trust for had already died or was in mortal peril on the forefront of the war, and it all seemed rather too much to continue to bother with.
It was not that he wanted to die, but, if and when it should happen, as long as he could do his best to take out as many as possible and take away his chance of being a detriment to anyone else, he would be pleased. What else could a person hope for, but to minimize the damage of their own existence and death?
Feeling unsettled but pragmatic, Remus lay down to sleep as soon as possible, and if his eyes remained open and mind speeding for a long time afterward, well, it was only the heat of the night and the distant howling of the wolves.
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This fic was going to be S/R (I was going to find a way for Sirius to come back alive) and there was no R/T in it. I originally wrote it planning for Tonks to have shown interest as she did in HBP and for Remus to rebuff her completely and it never to become a thing, but I think if I continued this I'd rather write it as them being just friends sharing mutual sadness and grief over losing Sirius, who don't feel like they have to put up a front around the other. So the note he would be sending her would be in honor of that.
I think I planned to write Remus having to be on the run and about the werewolf attacks and so on. Also, if I were to continue it now, I suspect I'd include in that his searching for a way to bring Sirius back from the veil.
Incidentally, I had taken a whole part out at one point by where it mentioned Tonks. This is one part of that excerpt, which mentions the wolfsblood potion a little better:
If anything, he was more dangerous now than he ever had been before. And if they truly had created the wolfsblood - if they now had the poison that could render the bite of a werewolf infectious and as damaging at any phase as on the full moon - if, it was vaguely rumored and they feared it was true, the potion could even let a werewolf transform briefly even without the full moon --
If this were all true, and it was they who sought his life and death, then there was nothing safer and more important than for Remus to be far from everyone else. He had already lost far too many people he cared for to ever risk anyone again. He would rather die than betray his friends, or commit suicide by burning all his blood to mist before he let it be used to destroy the lives of anyone else.
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Not sure if I would update the potion or not..
Also, sorry--I would've done a better job editing these two fics but it's super late, I'm really tired, and it probably doesn't matter since they're only partially written anyway.