Chapter Text
A twig cracked in the underbrush, and Remus Lupin looked up from the rabbit he was skinning. He knew the intruder was almost certainly friendly—among the pack, hostile visitors didn't make a sound as they approached—but he adjusted his grip on the knife anyway.
An adolescent boy melted out of the trees twenty feet away, and Remus smiled in greeting.
The boy shifted uncomfortably and blurted, "Skoll wants everyone in the clearing."
Before Remus even thanked him for carrying the message, the boy slipped between the trees, vanishing into the brush with the uncanny silence Remus still hadn't been able to master. Remus finished his unpleasant task as quickly as he could and hung the meat from the roof of his ramshackle hut, out of reach—he hoped—of scavengers, then set off for the clearing.
His stomach twisted with apprehension. This wasn't the first meeting Skoll, the nominal leader of the Forbidden Forest werewolves by virtue of his size and strength if not his intelligence, had called since Remus began trying to infiltrate the pack. For him to call a meeting so soon after Dumbledore's funeral, though... it was unlikely to be a coincidence. He was probably going to push—again—for a commitment to Voldemort, and Remus's arguments would be less convincing than ever, in the face of Dumbledore's murder.
He wondered, briefly, if he should just give up and apparate away. God knew, he had little hope of convincing the pack to side with the Order now, or even to remain neutral, but he could at least assess their mood. And, as he had argued when Nymphadora bitterly protested his return, leaving the pack at this point would be viewed as an admission that the Death Eaters were winning. That would make it even more certain the pack would throw in its lot with Voldemort, putting Hogwarts and Hogsmeade in even greater danger. More importantly, he couldn't just give up on them; despite what the Ministry might think, they were people.
He walked cautiously into the clearing, choosing a seat in an inconspicuous spot near the edge of the open area. Most of the pack was already there; they were restless, but unusually quiet. That was a bad sign.
The middle-aged females who had been his most vocal supporters avoided his eyes, and Remus's heart sank.
Before Remus had a chance to speak to anyone, Skoll stepped out of his hut into the waiting circle of werewolves. A hulking figure followed him, ducking beneath the doorframe, and Remus unconsciously leaned back, seeking concealment in the dappled tree shadows. He had been fortunate so far to avoid Fenrir Greyback's notice on the brute's infrequent visits to the pack. Given the way Skoll was gesturing in his direction, though, it appeared Remus's luck had just run out. Greyback was not going to be interested in hearing reasoned arguments against his stance. Worse, he could hardly fail to recognize Remus from the fight at Hogwarts a few nights ago.
A third figure emerged from the hut, and even though he knew that drawing his wand in the midst of the pack would be suicide, Remus's hand clenched on polished wood as he recognized Severus Snape.
Blood roared in Remus's ears, so loudly that he barely heard what Skoll was saying. His vision narrowed until all he could see was Snape, standing near Greyback and looking faintly bored, as though his status as a Death Eater and Greyback's guest was not all that was keeping him from being attacked by the pack - he was so very obviously a wizard, in his high—collared black robe.
Snape's contemptuous glance raked over the uneasy ring of ragged figures. He showed no sign of having seen Remus half-hidden in the shadows, but his hand twitched, ever so slightly, in the subtle Order signals that meant Danger. Flee now.
How dare he. How dare Snape warn him, tell him to run, as if they were still working for the same goal. As if they had ever been working for the same goal!
A surge of rage burned through Remus, leaving an eerie sort of calm behind, and he heard Greyback's raspy bark of a voice.
"...deserve blood, and the Dark Lord will give it to us! All we want, free for the taking." Looking straight at Remus, he smiled, showing hideously stained teeth. "Or do you want to tell me there's a reason not to follow someone who'll give us what we want?"
The men sitting in front of Remus shifted sideways, edging ever so slightly away from him so that they were no longer between him and Greyback. Remus understood; he hadn't expected anything different. To his surprise, though, those on either side of him edged away as well, and Remus realized they had left a clear path for him to run into the forest. One of them even met his eyes, and then looked desperately toward the brush.
But Remus was finished running. Finished hiding. And most of all, he was finished being reasonable.
He stood up, and a startled murmur ran around the clearing as he stepped forward instead of back.
Snape glared at him.
"Yes," Remus said evenly. "I'll give you reasons why we shouldn't follow Voldemort, reasons anyone not blinded by bloodlust and stupidity can understand. You want blood? Voldemort will give you blood, all right—but he won't care if it's his enemies' or if it's yours. He wants to use us, to frighten and to kill. And that's all he wants with us! He won't give us food or comfortable homes or safety, and when he's defeated, the Ministry will hunt us down and make all our lives even worse, because—"
"The Dark Lord will win!" Greyback rasped. "He is powerful. The Ministry is weak, and Dumbledore is dead."
Remus took another step forward. "Yes, Dumbledore is dead. By treachery," he said bitterly. His eyes flicked, very swiftly, to Snape, whose face was a pale, impassive mask. "But there are many others who oppose Voldemort, and they are not dead—"
"They will be!" Greyback snarled, and he charged, his hands with their filthy nails outstretched to grab and rend—only Remus leaned aside at the last second, so that Greyback rushed straight past him.
Remus knew he was doomed if he ever let Greyback get hold of him—the other werewolf was both bigger and much stronger—but if he could keep him off balance and angry, he might have a chance.
Snarling, Greyback turned and lunged again. This time Remus ducked and twisted and grabbed Greyback's wrist, and Greyback ended up flat on his back on the ground, wheezing to suck air back into his lungs.
Several of the watching werewolves gasped.
Greyback shoved himself up off the ground but didn't immediately attack. "Wizarding trickery," he accused breathlessly.
Remus smiled thinly. "No, only Muggle martial arts. My mother found someone to teach me, after you bit me—she thought it would help if I felt I had control over my own body for the rest of the month."
Greyback was catching his breath, and Remus berated himself; he was foolish to have allowed the pause. He couldn't afford to feel guilty for pressing any advantage he could get. Greyback certainly wouldn't.
"What, Fenrir...are you afraid to face someone who can fight back?" Remus taunted deliberately. "Is that why you attack children—they're all you can handle? You have to kill five-year-olds because a grown man would be too—"
Red-faced and furious, Greyback bared his teeth and hurled himself at Remus, who sidestepped and dodged and kicked, desperately trying to stay out of Greyback's reach, until he saw the tiny opening he needed. He struck, and a sickening crunch echoed around the clearing.
Greyback's body crumpled to the ground as the pack stared in stunned silence.
Even Snape looked shocked.
Remus stalked toward him, and he reacted exactly as Remus had expected—his hand dropped to his wand. But before he had it halfway into the air, werewolves crashed into him from all sides, and he went down under a struggling heap.
Remus shouted, "Don't kill him—he's mine!" As an afterthought, he added, "But get that robe off him. I don't trust what he carries in his pockets."
He turned to Skoll, whose mouth was still hanging open.
"Lupin... You... He— he—" Skoll spluttered. "The Dark Lord will be furious if you kill the wizard. You have to let him go!"
"I killed Greyback, Skoll," Remus said with deceptive mildness. "Voldemort will already be angry. But angry or not, I don't plan to let Snape go. He's mine." Remus paused, then said, "Unless you're challenging me for him?"
"No!" Skoll took a half step backward, his eyes widening, but then he squared his shoulders. "That is, he's not important enough to worry about. He's yours. But if the Dark Lord is angry, it's on your head, Lupin!" he blustered.
Remus smiled thinly. "I'll deal with it."
He watched as two of the other werewolves dragged Snape, still struggling but already stripped of his robe, upright. They shoved him forward, and he landed awkwardly, sprawling on his hands and knees in the dirt at Remus's feet. Bruises were already purpling on his face and torso.
He killed Albus.
Remus's hands clenched into fists.
Severus scrambled to his feet. He could feel his face burning with rage and humiliation—manhandled, beaten, stripped to his underpants, thrown to Lupin like a bone—how dare these creatures?
His eyes darted around the clearing, seeking allies, some kind of opening, but he saw only hostile, or at best apprehensive, faces, all turned expectantly toward him and Lupin.
Lupin... He still couldn't believe Lupin hadn't done the prudent thing and run, or that he, of all people, had killed Greyback. And if Severus couldn't get his hands on a wand, quickly, Lupin was probably going to do the same to him.
He couldn't let Lupin kill him—not now!
The realization steadied him slightly, and he drew himself up to his full height and smoothed his expression into a mask of disdain. Ignoring Lupin, he looked at Skoll and said, "Is this the way you control your pack? The Dark Lord will not approve—"
A snarling hiss sounded from dozens of throats, drowning out his voice, and Severus took an involuntary step backward.
Lupin gave him a smile that twisted his lips but never reached his eyes and said, "Werewolves won't let wizards tell them how to run the pack, Severus."
"There won't be a pack once the Dark Lord hears how you've treated his emissaries," Severus said sharply. "Return my wand and let me go, or he'll—"
"I don't think you're in a position to make threats," Lupin interrupted. "But you want your wand?" He gestured, and one of the other werewolves threw a familiar length of polished wood onto the ground nearby. "Come and get it."
"Come and get it?" Severus said disbelievingly. "Regressing to childhood, are we, Lupin?" he sneered.
He measured the distance to his wand—it was only a few feet away, but it was much too close to Lupin. He raised his eyes to Lupin's face, carefully ignoring the wand. If he could distract Lupin for a few seconds...
"So—werewolves hate wizards, do they, Lupin? Do your friends here know you're a wizard?" he said, pitching his voice to carry easily to the edge of the clearing. "And do they know you're only here because Dumbledore sent you to sp—"
The rest of his sentence was lost in a grunt as Lupin leapt at him, driving into him with a shoulder. Severus staggered and struck out blindly; he felt his fist just graze Lupin's cheek. Lupin's answering punch doubled him over, and the ensuing flurry of blows from Lupin's fists, elbows, and feet left him on his hands and knees again, panting for breath.
"Some of them know I'm here because you told everyone I'm a werewolf," Lupin snarled.
Severus staggered to his feet and manufactured another sneer. "History repeats itself, Lupin. This time I'm going to tell everyone you're a sp—"
Lupin lunged at him again, and Severus threw himself toward his wand. Lupin grabbed his arm and twisted, and Severus fell heavily, far short of his goal, with a cry of pain. He tried to roll closer to his wand, but Lupin kicked him hard in the chest, just under his shoulder. He curled, instinctively trying to protect his head with his arms, as Lupin circled him, landing kick after kick. None of them were hard enough to break bones, but they all hurt.
Severus arched backward with a hoarse cry as Lupin's next kick landed on his tailbone, then ended up face down in the dirt when Lupin knocked his feet out from under him as he struggled to stand. He lay gasping, forehead passed against the ground, hurting too much to move.
"It's not like you to give up so easily and stop fighting," Lupin said.
Severus looked up. The bastard wasn't even breathing hard. "This isn't a fight, Lupin," he spat bitterly.
"No. It's not." Lupin's face was utterly, frighteningly, expressionless.
Severus shuddered. He couldn't afford to die like this, not now, but Lupin looked likely to beat him to death without thinking twice about it. Without thinking...
He took a chance.
"Is this what Albus sent you here to learn, Lupin?" Severus asked, very quietly. "How to be a beast?"
Lupin's eyes blazed and his hand drew back.
Despite himself, Severus flinched.
Lupin froze. "No," he grated. "No. He didn't." A muscle twitched in his jaw. "I'll give you a choice, then. Make another try for your wand, and I'll kill you. Or you can roll over and surrender and live."
Severus looked longingly at his wand—it was still only a few feet away, but there was no question that Lupin could kill him before he could get to it. His head drooped and he closed his eyes tightly, fighting the urge to lunge for his wand and just have everything end now. But he had promised...
After a long moment, he rolled painfully onto his back and lay still, staring up at the bright sky.
Lupin dropped to his knees next to Severus's head, and Severus swallowed as he felt the unmistakable chill of a blade against his neck.
"No," Lupin murmured. "I think we should do this the traditional way instead."
Severus's eyes snapped to his face, and Lupin smiled grimly as he re-sheathed his knife and rocked back on his heels. Then he grabbed a handful of Severus's hair and jerked his head up, lifting his shoulders off the ground and pulling him partway over one of Lupin's knees.
Severus began struggling, and Lupin bared his teeth in warning.
Severus made himself go limp.
Lupin pulled his head even farther back, exposing his throat, and Severus made an inarticulate sound of protest as Lupin bent and closed his teeth on Severus's neck.
Lupin bit down hard enough to make Severus's breath catch, but he didn't break the skin. Severus forced himself to remain passive despite the rising level of noise around them and the threat of Lupin's teeth on his throat, and after a few seconds, Lupin let him fall back onto the ground.
They were immediately surrounded. Severus, struggling to stand before he was stepped on by one of the overly excited werewolves swarming around Lupin, heard him say, "Yes, take him to my hut," just before hands pulled him up and dragged him out of the clearing. He thought it was the same two werewolves who had thrown him at Lupin's feet earlier who led him stumbling through the forest now, but he wasn't certain. His head was throbbing and he ached all over, and he was only dimly aware of being pushed into a tiny hut, where a thin pallet barely broke his jarring fall.
Fine, he thought muzzily. He'd lie there and wait, and when Lupin came, he'd convince him to—
Rough hands flipped him ungently onto his back. One of the werewolves grabbed his wrists and pinned him down while the other bound his ankles and secured them to one of the posts supporting the hut's uneven roof.
"Lupin didn't tell you to bind me," Severus protested, straining against their hands.
"No need to," the older of the two werewolves replied, slipping a scratchy rope around Severus's wrists and pulling the knots tight. He handed the free end of the rope to the other man. "We're not stupid."
The younger werewolf forced Severus's arms over his head and passed the end of the rope around another upright pole.
"There's no need—" Severus began.
The werewolf scowled and hauled on the rope, and a startled hiss of pain escaped Severus as his arms were jerked upward. He glared, and the werewolf smirked at him and yanked on the rope again, lifting Severus's shoulders just off the floor, before he tied it to the pole. The two of them tested the knots and walked out, leaving Severus in rapidly increasing discomfort as his joints and bruised muscles protested being stretched too far.
He focused on breathing evenly, using the techniques he had learned over the years to control pain to keep the discomfort from building to agony, but he was relieved when he heard voices approaching. Surely Lupin wouldn't leave him like this - he wasn't the type to mistreat prisoners.
Only, Lupin didn't enter the hut; the low-voiced babble of conversation remained outside.
"...challenge Skoll!"
An excited female voice chimed in, "Yes, yes! If you were pack leader, you could refuse to join the Dark Lord. We'd move to a different part of the forest, where they can't find us, even if it means leaving the caves! We could find more, or all build huts like those of you who live outside now—"
"The pack will never agree to move that far. There'd be nowhere to steal food—"
"We should all die before we steal anything anyway!" a very young voice said heatedly. "We're no better than the ferals!"
"No, we at least still remember how to talk."
"The ferals all liked Greyback, but they'll be impressed that Remus—"
"You should challenge him now, Remus!"
"Wait," said a calm male voice that Severus instantly recognized as Lupin's. "I'm...flattered you think so, but you know as well as I do that defeating Skoll wouldn't be enough to give me leadership of the pack. Skoll has many, many supporters, and they wouldn't accept me."
"We'd support you!" another young voice said.
"I know you would, and thank you," Lupin said gravely. "But...I am still very much an outsider, for having tried to live among wizards—it is only you few who think that is an advantage. To the rest of the pack, it is anathema. Greyback was, to some extent, an outsider too, but Skoll isn't. I'm not sure now is the time to do something so precipitate. And I still need to deal with..."
There was a brief lull, then the conversation started again.
"What are you going to do with him? You can't keep him here, everyone's already worried because he's a Death Eater, they're saying the Dark Lord will come..."
"Besides, he's not one of us! He's not even a mate or a child, and they're the only outsiders who could stay."
"Maybe I'll take him as my mate, then," Lupin said lightly.
Sudden, shocked silence was followed by a round of laughter.
"We can discuss things later," Lupin said. "Right now I need to...talk to him."
"You could take Skoll," a female voice urged. "You could."
"Fancy yourself as an alpha female, do you, Gillian?" another female voice asked slyly.
"Oh, shut it, you bi—"
"Children!" an older female voice interjected, and there was a brief, abashed silence.
"You should think on it, Remus," the same older, authoritative female voice said.
There were very faint sounds as if several people were walking away, then a low male voice said, "You should kill him."
"Which?" Lupin asked.
"Both," the voice replied grimly. "The Death Eater first."
"Thank you for bringing him back here," Lupin replied noncommittally, and Severus mentally linked the grim voice with the young werewolf who had tried to dislocate all his joints.
"Remus," the older female voice said again.
"Yes?"
"Think on it, but do not take too long about it. Now is the time to make your voice heard, while the pack favors you and Skoll will be too afraid to shout you down."
"Mary..."
"Think on it."
Silence fell outside the hut, and then Severus heard a deep sigh before Lupin stepped through the doorway, Severus's wand in his hand.
Relief washed over Severus—they hadn't broken it! But he still had to convince Lupin to lower his guard...
"Lupin, I—"
"Silencio," Lupin said absently, flicking the wand in his direction.
"No!" Severus mouthed. "Lupin! Lupin, listen to me!"
Lupin knelt and tested Severus's bonds himself, with short sharp jerks that sent fresh waves of pain through Severus's body. The silencing spell absorbed Severus's involuntary groan as well as his curses and shouts, and Lupin never even looked at his face to notice that he was trying to talk. Instead, he rose and rummaged among the few pots and earthenware dishes piled in the opposite corner before tapping them twice with Severus's wand. They rattled loudly enough to cover the soft pop as he disapparated.
Cold fear clenched in Severus's belly. He hadn't thought Lupin would hand him over to the Aurors without ever letting him talk, and for the first time since he realized Lupin wasn't going to beat him to death after all, he was afraid that he would still fail.
He put all his strength into a brief and fruitless battle with the ropes holding him before subsiding, gasping silently, sweat standing out on his face and his body racked with pain. The two werewolves who had bound him had known what they were about, and there was nothing he could do except wait for Lupin to return.