Scars, Part 10

by Geri ([email protected])

My homepage: http://www.geocities.com/geri_chans_fics/index.html

Rating: NC-17 overall

Pairings: Snape/Lupin, Ash/Tsubasa; also a little Theodore/Blaise, Dylan/Hermione, and Aric/Takeshi

Author's note: {} Indicates character's unspoken thoughts; [] indicates song lyrics.

Disclaimer: Based on the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling; song lyrics are from "Scars" by Papa Roach. No money is being made off this story; consider it a little wish fulfillment on my part.

Warning: AU. This story contains a character from Half-Blood Prince, but does not follow the HBP storyline.

Sequel to: Always, Summer Vacation, For Old Time's Sake, Three's a Crowd, Return of the Raven, Phoenix Reborn, Phoenix Rising, Aftermaths, The Revenant, Ash's Story, and Summer Vacation III.

Summary: Snape broods about the past, and the Macnair twins travel to Romania to free Greyback.
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Professor Sprout was very upset by the article in the Daily Prophet--not so much by the article itself, but by the effect that it had on her student. She went to check on Laura after breakfast, and found that the girl was so hysterical that Madam Pomfrey had to give her a potion with a strong sedative to calm her down.

"Her father is likely to be a problem, too," a worried Sprout told Dumbledore. "Alden Madley is the type who likes to throw his weight around, and I'm sure that he'll show up here eventually, blaming us for the problem and demanding that we fix it."

"Well then, we must be prepared for Mr. Madley's visit," Dumbledore said calmly. "And since this involves werewolves, perhaps we should consult with Remus and Severus, and also Tsubasa, since Mr. Randolf was his guest at the school."

"What about Lukas?" Sprout asked. "The werewolf in question belongs to his pack, after all."

"Yes, but Lukas has a short temper, and Mr. Madley, as you said, is likely to be very angry," Dumbledore replied. "I think it would be best if the two of them did not cross paths, for both their sakes, don't you, Pomona?"

Sprout recalled the way that Lukas had yanked Tsubasa out of his seat earlier at breakfast, and the new Professor hadn't even done anything to provoke him. She could only imagine what would happen if Madley started shouting insults at the werewolf leader.

"Yes, you're right, Albus," Sprout agreed hastily. "I'm sure that would be best for everyone involved."
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As Sprout predicted, Alden Madley showed up at Hogwarts later that day, demanding to speak with the Headmaster. Filch told him to make an appointment, but Madley planted himself in front of the school gates and made it clear--in rather blunt and insulting terms--that he would not leave until he spoke with Dumbledore. Finally, Filch went to report the presence of an uninvited visitor to the Headmaster, but because Madley had annoyed him, he took his time about it, making his way across the grounds and through the castle at a very slow and leisurely pace.

"It's all right, Argus, I was expecting Mr. Madley to show up sooner or later," Dumbledore assured the caretaker cheerfully. "In fact, I was just discussing that possibility with the Professors." He gestured towards Sprout, Tsubasa, Snape, and Lupin. The first three were sitting in chairs arranged around the Headmaster's desk, while Lupin stood next to Fawkes's perch, feeding candies to the phoenix.

"Please show Mr. Madley up to my office right away," Dumbledore instructed, and Filch reluctantly departed and returned with the angry wizard.

Madley glared at Lupin and snapped, "Is this a school or a werewolf sanctuary, Dumbledore?"

Snape scowled at Madley, although Lupin looked unperturbed, and Sprout said, "Please calm down, Mr. Madley. I understand that you're upset, but there is no need to insult Professor Lupin, who is a respected member of the staff--or Professor Dumbledore, for that matter."

"Respected?" Madley asked incredulously, giving Lupin a look of disgust. Snape's scowl grew fiercer and his right hand drifted towards the pocket where he kept his wand, and Lupin casually moved closer to him and discreetly laid a hand on his arm to restrain him. Tsubasa remained silent but watched Madley closely, the expression on his face impassive and unreadable.

"Respected, yes," Dumbledore said, politely but firmly. "By both the students and the other faculty. And by the people whose lives he helped save as a member of the Order of the Phoenix, when he risked his life fighting the Death Eaters."

"Fine!" Madley snapped, his face flushing with both anger and embarrassment at the Headmaster's gentle rebuke. "I hail Professor Lupin as a hero of the war," he said sarcastically, and Lupin automatically tightened his grip on Snape's arm as the Potions Master tried to reach for his wand again. "But I demand that you bar that other werewolf from the school; he isn't even a teacher, so he has no business being here in the first place!"

"You 'demand'?" Filch said angrily. "You have no right to barge in here making demands of the Headmaster!"

"It's all right, Argus," Dumbledore said genially. "I don't mind listening to a parent's concerns. However, Mr. Madley, there is no policy against the teachers inviting friends over when they are off-duty."

"Even if this so-called friend is harassing my daughter?" Madley retorted. "She's been traumatized by the pack of lies that he's been feeding her!"

"As I understand it," Lupin said quietly, "Laura sought out Mr. Randolf, not the other way around."

"That's a lie!" Madley shouted. "He must have come here looking for her!"

"Mr. Randolf came to the school at my invitation," Tsubasa said coolly.

"For what reason?" Madley demanded.

"Nothing more than a friendly visit," Tsubasa replied, remaining composed in the face of Madley's anger. "Hogwarts is my home; is it really so unusual to invite a friend to one's home for a visit?" Madley fumed and spluttered, and before he had a chance to get out a coherent reply, Tsubasa continued, "He ran into Miss Madley by chance; he didn't even recognize her when he first saw her."

"I don't believe you!" Madley snarled. "What kind of person befriends a werewolf, anyway?"

"The Headmaster, for one," Tsubasa replied. "And the Minister of Magic, for another." His face remained blank, but a hint of contempt entered his voice. "And quite frankly, I don't really care whether you believe me or not."

"Why, you insolent little--"

"Mr. Madley, this is hardly helping matters," Sprout interrupted, although she also gave Tsubasa a brief glare for needling the already irate wizard. "Can't we discuss this like civilized human beings?"

"It's bad enough that my family has been humiliated in the Daily Prophet," Madley complained.

"Well, perhaps next time, you should think twice before having a very public argument at the Ministry of Magic," Snape said sarcastically.

Madley glared at him (as did Sprout), then turned to the Headmaster and continued, "And I absolutely will not have my daughter associating with that werewolf!"

"Well, that is your right as a parent, although I think that would be a mistake," Dumbledore sighed sadly. "You may certainly forbid your daughter from seeing Mr. Randolf if you wish." Madley smiled triumphantly until Dumbledore continued, "However, as I said, it is also Professor Tsubasa's right to invite a guest over, so long as it is after school hours and the guest has committed no crimes. And I do not believe that Mr. Randolf has been charged with any crimes."

"All he did was talk to your daughter, Madley," Snape said with a vindictive smile. "And the last time I checked, talking to someone wasn't against the law."

"If you won't get rid of the werewolf, then I'll pull my daughter out of Hogwarts!" Madley blustered.

"Surely you don't need to go that far, Mr. Madley!" Sprout protested. "Laura would be devastated to leave Hogwarts and all her housemates! Besides, there's no other wizarding school in Britain! Would you really deny her a proper education or send her to a foreign country just to keep her away from her brother?"

"He's not her brother!" Madley snapped.

"Personally, I don't care whether Miss Madley stays at Hogwarts or not," Snape said in a lazy, indifferent voice as both Sprout and Lupin gave him affronted looks. "In fact, I'm leaning towards the latter at present, since she nearly set the Potions classroom on fire yesterday. However, you might want to keep in mind the fact that people will take it as a sign of guilt if you pull your daughter out of Hogwarts. They'll assume that everything Skeeter printed in that article was true."

Madley's face turned red with rage, and he ground his teeth together in frustration, because he obviously knew that Snape was right. "If that werewolf comes near my daughter again, I'll bring the matter before the school governors!" he snapped, then turned on his heel and started to stalk out of the office. But before he could leave, Tsubasa jumped to his feet and glided over to Madley's side so quickly that it almost seemed like he had Apparated.

"I know what you did to him," Tsubasa whispered, too quietly for anyone but Madley--and Lupin, with his keen werewolf ears--to hear. "I've seen the proof of it on his body. And if you make trouble for Ash...for Ethan...then I'll make sure that everyone else knows it, too." Madley shot him a look filled with both anger and fear, then stormed out of the office, and Filch ran after him, to make sure that he actually left the school.

"Do you really think he'll go to the school governors?" Sprout asked worriedly.

"He's just bluffing," Snape said scornfully. "Most of the school governors are purebloods, and they won't go up against the Headmaster for the sake of someone they think of as an upstart Mudblood."

"Well, nothing was really resolved, but at least he hasn't pulled Laura out of school," Sprout sighed.

"Thank you for stopping Mr. Madley from taking Laura out of Hogwarts, Severus," Lupin said, smiling affectionately at the Potions Master. "I apologize for thinking that you didn't care what happened to her."

"I don't know what you're talking about, you idiot Gryffindor," Snape said huffily. "All I did was tell Madley the truth; what he chose to do with that information was up to him. And I most certainly don't care what happens to some insipid little Hufflepuff girl. She's only an average Potions student at best."

"Whatever you say, Severus," Lupin said in a placating and slightly patronizing tone of voice, while Dumbledore chuckled softly. Sprout just stared at Snape, her expression hovering between indignation and confusion, unsure whether to be grateful for Snape's help or offended by his insults.

"I'll be leaving, then, if my presence is no longer required," Tsubasa said, his face still expressionless.

Dumbledore nodded, "Yes, thank you, Tsubasa. I apologize for the unpleasantness, but I think it would be best if Mr. Randolf has no further contact with Miss Madley for the time being. Although he is of course still welcome to continue his lessons with you."

"I don't know whether he will continue them or not," Tsubasa said quietly. "I do know that he has no intention of seeing Miss Madley again, so her father's trip here was completely unnecessary, although I doubt that he would have believed me if I had told him that." He bowed politely and said, "Good day, Headmaster, Professors," then left the room.

The others discussed the situation a little longer, but concluded that there was nothing more to be done right now. Sprout said that she would keep a close eye on Laura, and the three Professors left the office.

Snape and Lupin went down to the dungeon, but Snape walked past the corridor that led to their private quarters. "Where are you going, Severus?" Lupin asked.

"To my workroom, to start brewing the Wolfsbane Potion," Snape replied. "The full moon is coming up soon--which you ought to be keeping track of, Lupin. You're the one who's the werewolf, after all."

"Yes, of course, Severus," Lupin chuckled. "But I won't have to start taking the potion for a couple of days yet, so could we delay the potion-brewing for just a little while?"

"What for?" Snape asked suspiciously.

Lupin slipped an arm around Snape's waist and leaned in close, so that his breath tickled Snape's face as he whispered, "I'd like to reward you for helping Laura."

"I told you that I didn't help her," Snape protested.

"Really?" Lupin sighed regretfully. He moved even closer, so that his lips brushed against Snape's ear as he said, "I guess you don't want your reward, then."

"On the other hand," Snape said hastily, "although it wasn't my intention, if my words did aid Miss Madley in some way, then I should be entitled to collect the reward."

"Of course," Lupin agreed in a solemn voice, although there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. "I would never try to withhold that which is rightfully yours, Severus." And he kissed Snape, slowly and tenderly, his tongue probing gently at Snape's mouth, and sliding between Snape's lips as they parted with a muffled sigh.

And then Snape belatedly remembered that they were still in the dungeon corridor, where a student--or a teacher, for that matter--could walk by at any time. He quickly pulled away from Lupin, although the werewolf made a small, wordless noise of protest--almost a whine, which reminded Snape of how much he liked it when Lupin acted wolfish.

"I think it would be best if I collected my reward someplace more private, don't you?" Snape asked in a husky voice.

"I suppose so," Lupin replied with another regretful sigh. "Although there is a bit of an exhibitionist thrill in making out in the halls."

"And not in my workroom, either," Snape said firmly, taking Lupin by the arm and steering him back down the corridor towards their quarters. "Too many breakable objects."

"Mmm," Lupin said appreciatively. "Sounds like you expect your reward to be quite...vigorous."

"Isn't that usually the way it turns out?" Snape asked dryly, and Lupin just laughed.
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A couple of hours later, Snape was in his workroom stirring a bubbling cauldron. "Stupid werewolf threw off my schedule," he grumbled to the empty room, but without any real heat to his voice. In spite of his complaints, he felt pleasantly sated, if a little tired. As the potion came to a boil, he carefully stirred in some moonwort leaves; the various ingredients for the Wolfsbane Potion had to be added at precise intervals, and in addition, the moonwort had to be gathered under the light of the moon, or its magical properties were nullified. Brewing the potion was a complicated and tedious process, but Snape didn't mind--not just because the potion was for Lupin, but because for most of his life, he had been happiest when working on his potions. He found the work challenging, and he preferred the solitude of the stillroom to the companionship of other people--people who despised and tormented him, like the Marauders, or people who sought to use him, like the Death Eaters.

Snape brushed a limp, damp lock of hair away from his face with his free hand as he continued to stir the potion; the steam rising from the cauldron was making his hair even more lank than usual. That brought back memories of the Marauders taunting him about his greasy hair, while the bitter smell of aconite brought back memories of the experimental potions he had brewed for Voldemort during his days as a Death Eater...
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Cooper collapsed on the ground, groaning and clutching at his stomach as he retched violently. Voldemort hastily stepped back to avoid being splattered with vomit, a look of distaste on his face.

"It seems that the potion is ineffective, Severus," the Dark Lord said.

"Yes, Master," Snape said nervously, bracing himself for a Cruciatus Curse. The potion formula that the Dark Lord had given him was of dubious origin, from a book about Dark Creatures that was based more on rumor and legend than fact. Snape had already warned his Master that the potion was not likely to work, but reminding Voldemort of that was likely to make him more angry, not less. The Dark Lord despised it when his servants tried to make excuses for their failures.

But fortunately for Snape, Voldemort's attention was drawn to Greyback when the werewolf leader snarled and kicked Cooper in disgust when some of the vomit landed on his boots. "You claim that your potions will make us stronger, but it seems more like you're trying to poison my pack," Greyback growled accusingly. He was the only one of the Death Eaters brave enough--and foolish enough--to talk back to the Dark Lord.

"I am trying to find a potion that will give you control over the transformation instead of being a slave to the full moon, Greyback," Voldemort said coldly. "Surely that goal is worth a few minor setbacks. Besides, if Cooper dies..." He gave the prone werewolf a contemptuous look. "...you can always make another werewolf to take his place." Then Voldemort turned his crimson stare on Greyback and said in a voice filled with quiet menace, "But if you are so concerned about your packmates, Greyback, then I can let Severus test his next potion on you."

Greyback must have realized that Voldemort's patience--which was very sparse to begin with--had reached its limit, because he bowed and said, "Forgive me, my Lord. My impatience caused me to speak out of turn. I too am eager to find a way to master the transformation."

Voldemort seemed mollified by his apology, and turned back to Snape. "Do you have any ideas on how to alter the potion to make it more effective, or know of any more promising formulas we could try?"

"In a recent Potions journal, there was an article published by a Japanese Potions Master who claimed to have limited success in using aconite to suppress the effects of the transformation," Snape replied.

"We don't want to suppress the transformation, Severus," Voldemort said impatiently. "We want to control it."

"Yes, my Lord," Snape said hastily. "But perhaps a small amount of aconite could be used to help control rather than suppress the transformation. Of course, I won't know for sure until I run some experiments..."

Cooper groaned, although it was not clear whether he was groaning in pain or at the thought of playing guinea pig for yet another experimental potion.

"Very well, Severus, look into it," Voldemort ordered. "And continue searching for other potion formulas."

"Yes, my Lord."

Greyback scowled at Snape, then grabbed Cooper and hauled him to his feet, and dragged the other werewolf along with him as he departed.

Snape continued his research for Voldemort, and through Dumbledore, he contacted the Japanese Potions Master, Professor Kamiyama, and began collaborating with him on the experimental Wolfsbane Potion--although of course he did not inform the Dark Lord of his side project. This meant that his work on the potion had to be done in secret, during what little spare time he had when he was not working on projects for the Death Eaters. And since the Dark Lord kept him very busy, his "spare time" was mainly the time that he would have spent sleeping. Snape was grateful, though, that because so much of his time was taken up with conducting Voldemort's research and brewing various potions for the Death Eaters, he was not often called upon to participate in the murderous raids that most of his comrades carried out. Although he supposed that he was just as guilty as the Lestranges and the other Death Eaters who killed people directly with Forbidden Curses, because the poisons that he brewed were used to murder people, and the Polyjuice Potion that he made for the Death Eaters enabled them to get close enough to their targets to kill them. There was just as much blood staining his hands as any of the others.

One day Snape sighed as he stirred a cauldron of bubbling Wolfsbane Potion; he and Kamiyama were having difficulty determining the proper amount of aconite to use. Too much would kill the werewolf, or at best make him or her sick, and too little rendered the potion useless. The fumes from the potion were giving him a headache, and he was weary from lack of sleep, since he had been up all night brewing a complicated poison on the Dark Lord's orders.

{Why am I doing this?} Snape asked himself. He wasn't doing it for the Death Eater werewolves, since Voldemort had specifically ordered him not to waste his time on this particular potion. The only other werewolf that he knew was Lupin, and why should he bother wasting his precious time, not to mention risk angering the Dark Lord, just to help an ex-lover who had betrayed him? He hadn't spoken to Lupin since they'd graduated from Hogwarts, but he had kept tabs on him and observed him from a distance. Lupin looked as shabby as ever--apparently, he wasn't being paid for his services to the Order, since he wasn't officially an Auror--and he had looked careworn and worried the last time Snape had spied on him. His face had been pale, with dark circles under his eyes, and his already slender body had looked too thin beneath his patched and faded robes. It might be that the cumulative effects of the transformations were taking a heavy toll on his body, or it might simply be fear and stress; nearly everyone in the wizarding world looked pale and worried these days. Snape ought to be gloating, but found that he could not take any pleasure in Lupin's misery.

If Voldemort and Greyback had known that Lupin was a werewolf, they might have tried to recruit him by either bribery or coercion, but so far he had managed to keep his lycanthropy a secret from the public at large, so right now he was regarded by the Death Eaters as merely another member of the Order--an enemy, but a relatively unimportant one, since he had no wealth or political influence. Snape could have exposed Lupin's secret, of course, but he continued to keep his silence. He told himself that it was because Lupin was still Dumbledore's pet, and right now Dumbledore was the only thing standing between Snape and a prison cell in Azkaban. That accounted for his silence, but Dumbledore had not forced Snape to work on the Wolfsbane Potion; he hadn't even been aware of Kamiyama's research until Snape had brought it to his attention.

Snape tried to tell himself that he was attempting to prevent other children from being attacked the way that he had been attacked by Lupin in the Shrieking Shack, but he couldn't make himself believe his own words. He had never been the altruistic type, and he had no special love for children and no foolish misconceptions about them being pure and innocent creatures, since he had spent most of his years at Hogwarts being teased and taunted by the other children. In fact, he wouldn't have minded feeding a few of them--namely the Marauders--to a hungry werewolf.

And yet here he was, working on the potion instead of getting some much-needed rest. He ought to forget about it and go to bed, or spend his time on something more productive that would ingratiate himself with the Dark Lord and win himself a place in Voldemort's inner circle, where he could have access to information that the Order sorely needed.

But instead, Snape sighed again and added a handful of aconite leaves to the cauldron.
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Snape smiled as his mind turned back to the present. Of course the potion had always been for Lupin, and he felt no shame in admitting it now. His former Death Eater comrades would have laughed at the idea of Severus Snape being so sentimental, but they were all dead or in Azkaban, so he supposed that he was the one having the last laugh.

His smile faded slightly as he wondered why Fenrir Greyback had been on his mind so much lately, then shrugged it off. It was probably just because of the questions Lupin had been asking for his book, nothing more. His memories of Greyback and the Death Eater werewolves were unpleasant, to be sure, but were hardly the worst that he had from that time.

He completed the potion, left it to simmer, and returned to his quarters, where Lupin was bent over his desk, frowning in concentration as he nibbled on the end of a quill pen. A lock of long, golden-brown hair fell across his face and Lupin impatiently brushed it back, and Snape found himself smiling, because the scene reminded him of their schoolboy days--the brief and happy period when they had become friends while working on Professor Blackmore's Summonings project. Lupin's hair was as long and untidy as it had been back then, and except for the gray strands scattered among the brown, from a distance he might have been mistaken for a student working on a homework assignment.

Lupin was so deep in thought that he didn't notice Snape entering the room, so the Potions Master snuck up behind his lover, taking careful, measured steps so that his feet made no sound on the carpeted floor. Then he reached forward and pulled Lupin's hair back from his face--taking advantage of the opportunity to run his fingers through Lupin's silky hair--and said snarkily, "You ought to tie back your hair when you're working, Lupin, unless you want it to land in the inkpot."

"Oh!" Lupin exclaimed, looking up in surprise. "Hello, Severus. I didn't even hear you come in."

"That's obvious," Snape retorted, but with good-natured humor. "I would expect a werewolf to be more alert. If I had been a Death Eater assassin, you would have been in a great deal of trouble."

Lupin smiled, looking amused. "All the Death Eaters are dead or in prison, so I wasn't aware that I should be expecting an assassin. And as far as I know, I haven't annoyed anyone else enough that they would want to kill me."

"It was just an example, Remus," Snape said, planting a kiss on the side of Lupin's neck, and the werewolf sighed and half-closed his eyes in pleasure. "I'm a former Death Eater and double-agent, so I can't help being a bit paranoid. Oh, and by the way, I find you quite annoying at times, but I would never kill you."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Because then I would have no one to sleep with," Snape whispered into his lover's ear, and Lupin's face flushed and his eyes turned slightly glassy with arousal.

"Well, we can't have that, now can we?" Lupin murmured. "Although technically, I think you have something other than 'sleep' on your mind. I thought I was the one who was supposed to be insatiable."

"Perhaps you were right about the wolf's ardor being contagious," Snape replied. "And as I have been laboring over your Wolfsbane Potion, I think that I am entitled to a reward."

"Ah, of course," Lupin said with a smile. "A Slytherin never performs a favor without expecting something in return."

"Precisely," Snape purred wickedly.

"And a Gryffindor always pays his debts," Lupin said, rising to his feet and reaching up to unfasten his robes. Then he paused, looking thoughtful for a moment, and said, "You know, this rather sounds like a plot from one of Prospero's novels, where the virginal heroine--or in this case, hero--is indebted to a dashingly handsome but sinister Dark Wizard who wants the heroine--or hero--to surrender up his or her body as payment."

Snape groaned in disgust. "Do you have to spoil the moment like that, Lupin?" he complained. "First of all, I find those romance novels nauseating. And second, I am not 'dashingly handsome,' and third, you are hardly a virgin."

"But we could pretend," Lupin said playfully. "Don't tell me that Slytherins never do a little role-playing in the bedroom."

Snape stared at his lover in surprise, then shook his head. "You are beginning to frighten me, Lupin. Next thing I know, you'll be suggesting that we try a little bondage, too."

"Well, that's not exactly my cup of tea, but if you really wanted to, I'd be willing to give it a try for your sake," Lupin replied.

"Those are hardly the words of an innocent and pure-hearted Gryffindor!" Snape protested, trying to decide whether to laugh or be appalled.

"I've been corrupted by my Slytherin lover," Lupin said with a grin. "And we Gryffindors aren't as innocent as you seem to think. We're always breaking the rules and getting into mischief, remember?"

"Yes, but I hardly think that sneaking out of the castle to visit Hogsmeade is the same as playing sex games with a Slytherin!" Snape retorted.

"Well, I am particularly mischievous," Lupin declared, giving Snape a kiss. "Er...by the way," he added with a nervous smile, "you were kidding about the bondage, right?"

Snape grinned at him evilly and said haughtily, "You are hardly in a position to complain, Lupin. You are utterly at my mercy unless you can find another source of Wolfsbane Potion."

Actually, these days it was relatively easy to obtain, but Lupin played along, dramatically lifting a hand to his forehead as he pretended to swoon. "You cad! You know I have no choice but to let you have your way with me!"

Snape couldn't take it any longer, and he doubled over with laughter. In fact, he laughed so hard that tears began to stream down his face.

"Hey!" Lupin protested indignantly. "You were supposed to sweep me off to the bedroom!"

"I know," Snape gasped. "I'm sorry...but you just looked so silly...ah hahahaha!"

Lupin pretended to pout, and said in a miffed voice, "Well, if you ever manage to stop laughing, I'll be in the bedroom waiting for you to ravish me."

Snape actually had nearly managed to get his laughter under control, but the word "ravish" set him off again. Lupin heaved an exaggerated sigh of long-suffering resignation, and headed to the bedroom. Since it seemed like it would be awhile before his lover was ready to join him, he began reading one of Prospero's books to keep himself entertained.

"Maybe I could try my hand at writing romances after I'm done with the textbook," Lupin mused out loud, then shook his head. "Or maybe not; Severus seems to find my ideas more comical than romantic." But the sound of Snape's laughter from the other room made Lupin smile in spite of himself, because it made him happy to know that laughter and smiles came so easily to the gloomy Potions Master these days. He was glad to hear his lover laughing, even if it was at his expense.

So Lupin grinned and stretched out on the bed, patiently awaiting the arrival of his mate. And maybe he'd try a little role-playing again in the future, even if Severus thought it was silly. A little laughter was good for a relationship, after all...
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Imogen and Warren Macnair went to Romania on Imogen's day off, so that no one would wonder why she was absent from work. They Apparated out of the house, to avoid being traced through the Floo Network, and then Apparated several more times, traveling across England in a seemingly random manner designed to shake off any Aurors who might be trying to follow them. Apparition magic supposedly wasn't traceable, but Imogen thought that it was best to play it safe and err on the side of caution. Finally, after they were certain that no one had followed them, they traveled to Romania via an illicit Portkey.

They visited Warren's old mentor, the Dark Wizard he had been apprenticed to, just in case someone did find out that they'd gone to Romania. Warren asked his former Master to write him a job reference, an innocent and plausible reason for their journey, and in keeping with the character of a young man desperate to find employment.

After obtaining the reference, they did a little sightseeing in the local wizarding village, still playing the part of tourists. And after they were sure that no one was paying attention to them, they left and made their way to the sanatorium, following the directions that their father had given them.

They met with the Director of the sanatorium, claiming to be relatives of Greyback who had only recently learned of his existence, and asked to have him released into their custody.

"That is very noble of you, young miss, young sir, but I think you fail to comprehend just how dangerous this man is," the Director said with an air of patronizing concern. "He has tried to attack the workers here several times, and must be kept sedated and chained at all times for the staff's safety."

"We understand," Warren said smoothly. "We may be idealistic, but we are not complete fools. We will have very strong security measures in place to keep our new kinsman from harming himself or anyone else, until he can be educated as to his proper place in our family. We are of course grateful to you for taking such good care of him all these years, so please accept this as a small token of our appreciation."

He placed a small chest filled with gold coins on the Director's desk; the gold was not from their Gringotts vault, because such a substantial withdrawal might have caused someone to take notice, but from a secret stash of wealth hidden by their father. Most of the old pureblood families kept a secret hoard of coins or jewels for use in emergencies, and the Macnairs were no exception. And as a Death Eater who had once been a fugitive from the law, Walden Macnair had known the wisdom of having access to funds untraceable by the Ministry.

The Director carefully examined one of the coins to make sure it was real, then gave the twins an unctuous smile. "How fortunate Mr. Greyback is to have such loving relatives," he practically purred. "If I do release him into your care, may I assume that the...ah...relative who originally placed him in this institution will not object?"

"Alas, that relative has recently passed away," Warren replied. "So you may rest assured that he will raise no objections."

"Well then, I see no reason not to release Mr. Greyback into your care," the Director said. "However, I must insist that he remain in shackles until he leaves the sanatorium--again, for the safety of the staff."

"I understand completely," Warren assured him, and the two men shook hands. Imogen just watched quietly, but a small smile of satisfaction crossed her lips.

The Director gave Warren the incantations that would unlock Greyback's cell door and chains, then had a lackey escort the twins to the werewolf's cell. They could see the werewolf through the iron bars of the cell door, lying on a stone floor padded with only a thin layer of dank, moldy straw. Greyback's tall, rangy frame looked too thin for its size, although he did not look so underfed that he appeared to be suffering from starvation. His long, gray hair and beard were matted, looking as though they hadn't been trimmed or washed since the first fall of the Dark Lord, and he was clad in filthy, tattered rags that were an indeterminate shade of gray thanks to the grime they were covered in--it was impossible to tell what color the cloth had originally been. In fact, it was quite probable that the grime was the only thing still holding the shreds of cloth together.

"It's dangerous for the staff to go near him, even chained and drugged," their escort whined defensively, although Warren and Imogen had offered no criticisms. "He'll try to attack anyone who comes within reach of him unless he's so sedated that he can't move."

"I did not ask for an explanation," Warren said curtly. "You may leave us now."

The lackey gratefully scurried away, not needing to be told twice, and Imogen and Warren patiently waited for Greyback to become aware of their presence. According to the Director, the staff would normally be giving him another dose of tranquilizers about now, so the effects of the drug should be just beginning to wear off. The werewolf stirred and groaned; he seemed to be waking from his stupor, which was perfect for the twins' purpose: they needed him conscious to make the Vow, but they also wanted him groggy enough that he wouldn't be thinking clearly when he made it.

Greyback slowly raised his head and stared at them blearily through bloodshot eyes; the silver chains and manacles that he wore rattled slightly as he moved. "Macnair?" he asked in a slurred voice.

The twins were taken aback for a moment, until they realized that he had mistaken Warren for his father. "Yes, but Warren, not Walden," Warren replied. "His son."

"And his daughter," Imogen added.

Greyback blinked several times in confusion, and a hint of dismay registered in his eyes. "How many years have I been locked up in here?" he asked, his voice sounding hoarse and raspy with disuse.

"Too many," Imogen said smoothly. "But we might be able to remedy that."

Greyback's eyes still looked dazed and unfocused, but he was not so groggy that he was not suspicious of this unexpected offer of help. "You want something from me," he said almost accusingly. "Or the Dark Lord does."

"The Dark Lord is dead," Warren said bluntly. "The Potter child, who is now a young man, slew him more than a year ago."

"You're lying," Greyback said, but his voice sounded uncertain.

"He is dead," Warren repeated. "Why else would we dare defy the Dark Lord and rescue you from the prison he placed you in?"

When Greyback frowned, still looking suspicious, Imogen said, "With the Dark Lord dead, we are the only ones who know you are here. You may choose to leave with us, or you can rot in this cell for the rest of your life. No one else will ever come for you, because everyone in the wizarding world believes that you are dead."

"All right," Greyback growled, looking shaken. "What do you want from me?"

"We want you to kill someone for us," Warren replied. "I will explain the details later, after we are gone from here."

Greyback laughed harshly; it came out sounding more like a bark. "That is easy enough to agree to; it has been far too long since I tasted fresh blood."

"We need more than your word, Greyback," Warren said as Imogen pulled her wand out of her pocket. "Forgive me if I do not trust you, but my father has told me that you have little love for your fellow Death Eaters. If you wish to leave this cell, you must make the Unbreakable Vow with us." Greyback growled in response, a low, rumbling noise of displeasure, and Warren said coolly, "If you don't want to make the Vow, we can always find another assassin, but I doubt that you will be able to find someone who will free you from your cell."

"It will be to your benefit, too," Imogen added placatingly. "You will gain your freedom, and we will provide a plentiful supply of prey for you to hunt. And perhaps the chance to rule over a pack of werewolves far larger than your old band in the Death Eaters. But you must make up your mind quickly; we cannot linger here much longer."

"Very well," the werewolf growled, giving in with ill grace. He held up his manacled wrists. "But you'll have to rid me of these before I can make the Vow."

There were wide silver cuffs engraved with runes of warding locked around his wrists and ankles, with a short length of silver chain linking each pair of cuffs. There were also longer lengths of chains running from the cuffs to iron rings firmly bolted into the cell wall. Imogen flicked her wand, and the long chains binding Greyback to the wall fell loose, but the shackles remained on his wrists and ankles.

Greyback awkwardly hobbled to the cell door, hampered by the shackles, and perhaps by the drugs that the sanatorium staff used to keep him sedated. "You really don't trust me, do you?" he asked with a mirthless smile.

"You have given me no reason to trust you as of yet," Warren retorted. "Place your right hand through the bars; we need to be holding hands for the spell to work."

"How romantic," Greyback said sarcastically, but he obeyed and stuck his hand through the gap in the bars, and Warren clasped it in his own hand; the werewolf's fingernails were long and yellowish, almost claw-like, compared to Warren's neatly manicured nails. Imogen stepped forward and touched the tip of her wand to their linked hands.

"I, Warren Macnair, pledge to free you from this sanatorium and give you prey to slake your bloodthirst. In return, Fenrir Greyback, do you swear to obey the orders of myself, my sister Imogen, and my father Walden, and swear never to do us harm, by either direct or indirect means?"

"You just said that you wanted me to kill someone," Greyback growled. His eyes were still bleary, but he was alert enough to glare at Warren suspiciously. "You never said anything about becoming a slave to the Macnair family!" His hand tightened around Warren's, his long nails digging into the younger man's skin, hard enough to hurt, but not enough to draw blood.

"You were already a slave from the moment that you let the Dark Lord burn his Mark onto your arm," Imogen said coolly. "We merely offer you a choice of servitude: to remain here in this cell until you die of old age, or to serve our family and gain a measure of freedom. We will reward you for your service, and even offer you a chance to gain power in the wizarding world." Greyback growled again in frustration, but it was clear to everyone present that he had no choice but to agree to the Macnairs' terms.

"Do you swear to abide by the conditions I just stated?" Warren asked sharply.

"I do," Greyback growled sullenly, "on the condition that you will not order me to do anything suicidal, and that you will swear not to harm me as well." A thin tongue of bright-red flame shot out of Imogen's wand and wrapped itself around Greyback's and Warren's hands.

"I swear not to harm you, nor order you to carry out any suicidal missions," Warren said carefully, and a second tongue of flame emerged from his sister's wand and intertwined with the first.

"Wait!" Greyback cried. "I want your sister to swear not to harm me as well!"

The werewolf thought pretty quickly for someone who was half-starved and half-drugged, Imogen noted with a touch of grudging respect; perhaps his werewolf constitution allowed him to shake off the effects of the drug more quickly than a normal human. However, it was clear that he did not fully understand how the Unbreakable Vow worked, which was not surprising, since he had not been educated at Hogwarts, according to Walden Macnair. Imogen knew that the Vow had no effect on the Bonder, the one who was casting the spell, but Greyback did not, and that could work to their advantage.

"I swear not to harm you, so long as you abide by the terms of the Vow," she said without hesitation, and silently cast a small illusion spell to conjure up the image of a third red tongue of flame to join the first two. Walden had impressed upon his children the importance of being able to cast nonverbal spells, and now she was grateful for his insistence.

Warren looked alarmed, and Greyback smiled, not quite triumphantly, for he was still bound in service to the Macnairs, but with a kind of grim satisfaction. Imogen caught her brother's eye and tried to silently send him the message, "Trust me." Warren nodded slightly; he was smart enough to know that the Vow should not be binding on her, or at least, he trusted her to know what she was doing.

"Fine," Greyback said. "We're all bound together, till death do us part. Now can we get out of here?"
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

The twins took Greyback to a remote safe-house in England that their father had prepared while he was still a Death Eater; in fact, the elder Macnair had hidden there for a time after the Death Eaters broke out of Azkaban during the second war. Imogen had made sure that the pantry was well-stocked before they had left for Romania, and she had also laid in a supply of clean clothing. At the moment, Greyback was more interested in the former than the latter.

"Don't you want to take a bath first?" Warren asked, wrinkling his nose in distaste as Greyback tore ravenously into a cold roasted chicken. Not only did the werewolf smell, it made Warren's skin itch just to look at the grayish crust of grime on Greyback's skin.

"Later," Greyback growled, shifting his attention away from the chicken carcass long enough to tear off a chunk of bread from an uncut loaf with his teeth; he gulped down a quarter of the loaf in a single bite. "I haven't had real food since the cursed Dark Lord locked me in that hellhole! All they feed you in there is gruel and soup--slop I wouldn't feed to a pig."

"Very well, then," Imogen said calmly; she was just as disgusted as her brother, but did not allow any outward sign of it to show on her face or in her voice. "We will bring you up to date as you eat."

"So the Dark Lord really is dead?" Greyback asked sometime later, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand; he had finished eating at about the same time that the twins had finished speaking.

"Yes," Imogen replied, and pointed to a stack of old newspapers. "You can confirm it in the Daily Prophet if you like."

Greyback snorted with amusement, "Oh, the Daily Prophet--now that's a reliable source!" Then he added with a sly smile, "And Daddy dearest is in prison; what a shame."

"You will speak of my father with respect, werewolf!" Warren snapped, but his sister motioned for him to calm down.

"It was our father who had us free you from the sanatorium, Greyback," Imogen said quietly. "So really, it is him that you have to thank for your freedom. After two decades of incarceration, it is perfectly natural for you to be suspicious, but there is no reason why we cannot work out a mutually beneficial alliance."

Greyback gave Imogen a wary but thoughtful look, then shrugged. "Well, I have little choice in the matter, it seems, and at least I'm being well-fed." He flashed a wide grin at the twins, exposing his sharp, yellowish teeth, causing Warren to blanch slightly, but Imogen held his gaze coolly without flinching, and the werewolf gave her an approving nod.

"So who do you want killed?" he asked, casually picking at his teeth with a fragment of chicken bone.

Imogen placed a copy of the Daily Prophet on the table in front of him. "First, Rosalind Madley." She pointed to a photograph of her father's former lover. "Then her husband Alden. That will do to start with; we will give you other targets later."

"Hmm," Greyback said, looking over the article curiously. "And just why did you need me specifically to kill these people? You could have hired a cutthroat in Knockturn Alley for a fraction of the bribe you must have paid the sanatorium to release me."

"We want it to be obvious that the killings were done by a werewolf," Imogen replied. "As you can see from the article, the Madleys' estranged son is a werewolf, and we want him to be blamed for their murders."

"And just what has the Madley family done to offend the Macnairs, that you would go to the trouble and expense of obtaining my services?" Greyback asked.

"That's none of your business!" Warren snapped. "All you need to do is carry out your orders!"

"Come now, we are all comrades here," Greyback said. "And by the terms of the Vow, I cannot betray you. What harm is there in telling me the reason why I am to kill these people?" When the twins remained silent, he smiled slyly. "Shall I take a guess? This article says that the estranged son is a bastard, father unknown. If a man from an old pureblood family...say, for example, the Macnairs...happened to sire a bastard child who turned out to be a werewolf, I imagine that he would go to great lengths to cover it up, don't you?"

"Why you--" Warren snarled, clenching his hands into fists, but his sister placed a hand on his arm to restrain him.

"Don't forget that you are under a vow not to harm him," Imogen cautioned. Then she turned to Greyback and smiled calmly. "As you say, we are all comrades, so it does not really matter if you know the truth. Yes, Ethan Madley, alias Ash Randolf, is my father's illegitimate son, and we intend to see that stain on our family honor eliminated. And furthermore, I order you not to share this information with anyone but myself, Warren, and my father."

"Your wish is my command, Miss Macnair," Greyback said, bowing in a mocking parody of chivalry. "But still, you could have found another way to frame your half-brother; there are enough werewolves in England that you didn't need to come to Romania looking for one. You could have cast an Imperius Curse on a random werewolf and ordered him to kill the Madleys."

"Ah, but my father has in mind something far greater and more far-reaching than simply getting rid of the Madley family," Imogen replied.

"I'm listening," Greyback said.

"The killing will not stop with the Madleys," Warren said. "We want to create an atmosphere of panic and terror in the wizarding world. A werewolf killing spree would convince people that Arthur Weasley's liberal policies are a mistake. And perhaps the public would begin to think that not all of the Death Eaters' policies were wrong. They might even want someone with a strong hand to step in and take control of things and bring order back to the wizarding world."

"And perhaps free your father and the other incarcerated Death Eaters from Azkaban?" Greyback asked with a cynical smile. "That's all very well and good, but what's in it for me?"

"Besides freedom from the sanatorium and the opportunity to eat real food instead of pig slop?" Imogen countered. "The new government will need someone to enforce the law and keep order in the wizarding world. You could be the head of a secret police force that would track down and kill traitors. I imagine that quite a few people, including the members of the Order of the Phoenix, will not tamely accept the change in power."

"So I would be in charge of a squad of Hit Wizards?" Greyback asked, his eyes gleaming eagerly.

"Yes, and you wouldn't need to bother with trifling little details such as a trial," Imogen said with a smile. "In fact, you could be in charge of a squad of Hit Werewolves, if you can take Lukas Bleddri/Cyril Diggory's pack from him."

"I've yet to meet a werewolf that could defeat me in combat," Greyback boasted.

"Don't underestimate him," Imogen cautioned. "From what I hear, he's a dangerous man."

"So am I," Greyback said with a feral smile that was almost a grimace.

"First, you take care of the Madleys," Warren said firmly. "Then we can see about making you king of the werewolves."

Greyback growled softly at the other man's sarcasm, but nodded. "So when do I go after them?"

"On the night of the full moon," Imogen replied. "In the meantime, you must take the Wolfsbane Potion once every day up through the full moon." She lit a fire and placed a small cauldron over it, and poured a bottle of cold Wolfsbane Potion into the cauldron.

"Faugh!" Greyback spat, as the bitter fumes began to spread through the room. "Are you sure that's safe? That bastard Snape poisoned one of my pack members with all the Dark Lord's experimental potions!"

"Snape's werewolf lover has taken it every month for the past several years, and he is still in good health," Imogen assured him. "The potion tastes foul, but it will not kill you, and you must take it without fail if you wish to retain your sanity during the full moon. And in order to carry out the terms of the Vow, you must be sane in order to recognize and focus on your targets."

"All right, all right," Greyback grumbled. "I suppose you wouldn't have gone through the trouble of getting me out of the sanatorium just to poison me--at least, not until after I've killed the Madleys."

"We could not have poisoned you in any case, since we are bound by the Vow not to harm you," Imogen reminded him.

"True," Greyback said, relaxing slightly. "All right, I'll take my medicine like a good boy. The potion won't hinder my ability to attack, will it?"

"You will still transform into your wolf form, and your bite will still be deadly and infectious," Imogen replied. "The potion renders a werewolf 'safe' only in the sense that a sane werewolf will not normally bite anyone."

Greyback laughed, in his raspy, barking voice. "There's no such thing as a 'safe' werewolf!"

"That is what we want the wizarding world to think," Imogen said smugly. "Warren and I must go now, but we will return before the moon is full to give you further instructions. For now, lie low, and rest and recover your strength. There should be enough food in the pantry to last until our next visit--even with your very healthy appetite." She glanced at the pile of chicken bones, picked clean of every scrap of meat.

"I already feel quite fit," Greyback said, stretching his limbs and flexing his arms, obviously savoring his freedom from the manacles and chains, which the twins had removed when they had arrived at the safe house. His wrists looked red and chafed, as if the silver had irritated his skin, or as if he had regularly struggled against his shackles--or perhaps both. "I may not be at full strength yet, but I'm strong enough to kill a couple of mere humans."

"But you must be a wolf when you kill them, so you must wait until the full moon," Imogen said sternly. "And you will need to be at full strength when you challenge Diggory for control of the pack. So rest and wait."

"Won't you stay and pass the time with me, Lady Imogen?" Greyback asked, leering at her playfully.

"You will keep your grubby paws off my sister, werewolf!" Warren shouted, reaching for his wand, but his sister restrained him.

"The Vow, dear brother," Imogen said, a bit impatiently. "And you, Greyback, keep your hormones under control, because the Vow will kill you if you harm me--and just to make it clear, I do consider rape to be a form of harm." She pulled a small pouch of coins out of her pocket and threw it down on the table. "If you must have a woman, you can go to Knockturn Alley and buy the services of one; just make sure to keep a low profile. It would ruin our plans if anyone recognized you. Oh, and I'd suggest that you take a bath first; I doubt that even the most desperate of whores would touch you in the state you're in now."

Greyback stared at her in surprise for a moment, then threw back his head and laughed out loud. "Ah, Lady Imogen, you are not at all what I expected of a pampered pureblood daughter!"

Warren glowered at him fiercely and said, "Keep yourself under control, Greyback--that's an order! After you kill the Madleys, then you can have all the women you want. Perhaps we'll even let you turn a couple of pretty little witches to keep as your concubines--like that woman you had in the Death Eaters, what was her name...?"

"Eliza Marsh," Imogen supplied.

"Oh, her," Greyback said contemptuously. "She was amusing at first, but I quickly grew tired of all her whining and cringing. A cowed, weak woman is of no interest to me beyond a quick tumble." He gave Imogen a look that not so much lustful--or at least, not entirely lustful--as it was admiring. "An alpha male should have a strong, fiery woman to be queen wolf to his king."

Warren scowled, but Imogen just laughed and said lightly, "Why, Greyback, are you calling me a bitch?"

"From a wolf, that's a compliment, my lady," Greyback replied, giving her another mocking bow.

"Then I'll take it in the spirit it's given, but keep your mind on business for now, Greyback--that's an order," Imogen said. "And I also order you not to touch me without my permission."

"As you command, my lady," Greyback said with ironic humor, and bowed once more as the twins Disapparated.

"I'm beginning to regret this bargain already," Warren said when they arrived back at the Macnair mansion.

"Don't let him bait you," his sister scolded.

"But didn't you see the way he was looking at you?" Warren demanded indignantly.

"Yes, and I do find it offensive," Imogen said coolly. "But it is an indication that he is a mere beast, controlled by his instincts, and that will make it easier for us to manipulate him. He is no real danger to us, so long as we are careful. He cannot so much as touch me without breaking the Vow and killing himself, while I can kill him with impunity at any time."

"So you aren't really bound by the Vow?" Warren asked hesitantly. "I didn't think that the Bonder could be affected by the spell, but when I saw that flame, I wasn't sure."

"It was only an illusion, of course," Imogen said impatiently. "Greyback had already pledged to obey us, so he would have been bound by the Vow whether I made the promise or not. But I thought that it would be best to pacify him and give him a false sense of security. If and when we need to get rid of him, his guard will be down long enough for me to cast the fatal spell."

"I still don't like the way he looks at you, like a starving dog staring at a juicy bone," Warren said nervously. "Maybe we should kill him as soon as he kills the Madleys."

"No," Imogen said firmly. "We need him if we are to stir up unrest in the wizarding world and free Father. I can handle Greyback."

"Are you sure, Sister? He is bound by the Vow, but as you said, he is a beast ruled by his instincts. What if he loses control and forgets about self-preservation for just a single, fatal moment?"

"I am certain," Imogen said firmly. "I won't underestimate him, and I will be careful when I am around him. If necessary, we'll give him blood and whores to slake both his lusts and take the edge off, enough so that he won't lose control and make a suicidal attack upon either of us. He cannot take me by force, so he will have to court me, in his own crude way, and that will make him more biddable. It's the principle of the carrot and the stick versus the switch, dear brother."

"And what happens when he realizes that he's never going to get the carrot?" Warren asked dryly.

"Oh, I don't think that he really expects to win over a pureblood girl of noble birth, but I'll see to it that he enjoys trying, and that will keep him in a good mood," Imogen said. "He does have a large ego, but he also has a clever mind. You saw how quick he was to attempt to bind both of us with the Vow, despite being drugged."

"He also has a strong lack of self-control, according to Father," Warren said darkly. "I still think this is dangerous, Imogen. Father won't like it."

"That is why we won't tell Father about this particular detail," Imogen said adamantly, not quite glaring at her brother, but locking gazes with him and staring into his eyes intently. "He'll order us to abort the mission, and then we'll lose our best chance of freeing him."

Warren was the first to drop his eyes and look away. "Are you sure you know what you're doing, Imogen?" he sighed.

"I do," she said firmly.

"Well, you'll do as you please no matter I what say, so I suppose I must give you my blessing," Warren said ruefully. "Just promise me that you'll kill him at once if he shows any signs of losing control."

"I promise, dear brother," Imogen said placatingly.

Chapter 11

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