A Glorious War (part 3 of 3) by kestrelsan
A Glorious War by kestrelsan
Parts 1 and 2
Part 3
***
3
The walk to 47 Willoughby Court was a chilly one. At some point the days had slipped into October and the nights were colder and the sky clearer, showing a range of stars that Sirius was sure had never existed in London. East Wickham at night was almost tolerable; its picturesque streets and houses built just so were bound in shadows, and chimneys sat like gargoyles on the roofs.
A kind of wildness pulsed through him, unexpected but welcome; he wanted to be Padfoot, barking at the neighbors or just running through the streets, faster until he'd circled the entire village.
"Turn down this lane," Remus said, reading the map under the light of a street lamp and the waning moon. Sirius wished he could share a little of what he was feeling, and that Remus would understand.
"You've remembered the extra Polyjuice?"
"Yes," Sirius said. "You've asked me twice. We won't even stay long enough to need it. A quick tour of the room, listen in on some conversations, make an excuse to leave or just slip out the back. They'll be too busy to notice us."
"Hm," Remus said skeptically, but he was past trying to dissuade him.
It wasn't long until they reached the house. It was at the end of a cul-de-sac, houses painted white with black shutters like eyes peering down at them, the front doors large and coldly unlit. A rose garden grew in front of number 47. Each petal was perfectly displayed. Sirius resisted the urge to pick one.
Oxman answered the door. "Excellent! You've arrived." He ushered them into the house, which was brightly lit and almost comfortable. He offered to take their cloaks, but Sirius had the Polyjuice in his inside pocket and declined. He looked around. A fire burned in the other room. Several wizards and witches stood in clusters, chatting as if it were the office Christmas party.
"Come in," Oxman said. He was dressed in rich velvet robes the color of smoke, which fit him much better than the Muggle suit. "Have some punch."
"Er," Remus said.
"I'll introduce you to Bruella," Oxman continued, as he guided them into the room.
Oxman left them with a strikingly handsome witch. Grey-streaked hair was piled on top of her head, topped by an elaborate headdress of black feathers.
"Gorlitz and Baumgardner," she said, drawing the names out curiously. "Very familiar. Are you sure we don't know one another?"
Remus cleared his throat. "We run the shop on High Street."
"Ah, yes. How interesting." Bruella looked anything but interested, sipping her punch, bright orange smoke drifting over the edge of the glass. "Ox's parties are always so dull," she said. "Oh look, there's Bockerbee." She waved him over.
Bockerbee was only slightly older than they were. Sirius thought he might have been at Hogwarts but couldn't place him. His face was flushed and he held an extra glass of punch in his hand that he thrust in the direction of Sirius, who took it cautiously. "You'll never guess who's here."
"I'd rather not," Bruella said. "I despise guessing. Besides, Ox has already told me that he will be here."
"Voldemort?" Remus said.
Bruella looked him strangely. "The Dark Lord? Of course not. How perfectly ghastly."
"But one of them," Bockerbee said, in a voice of barely-restrained excitement. "The Dark Lord's man. He's here to gather support. We'll soon be able to prove our loyalty."
"Do stop going on like that," said Bruella, but she was interrupted by the chime of glass near the fireplace. Conversation in the room dwindled to a few murmurs, attention focusing on the man
standing next to the mantle.
Sirius nudged Remus. "Rockweiler," he mouthed.
"Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed company," Rockweiler said, still looking as disgruntled as Sirius remembered. "We are truly honored today." He gestured to a slight, dark man who stood a few feet away, slumped demeanor indicating boredom and impatience at Rockweiler's posturing. But he straightened at the invitation to stand next to him by the fire. The flames illuminated a young face with sharp cheekbones under a stylish cut of black hair.
Sirius gripped the glass in his hand until he could almost hear the glass creak. Something tightened in his chest. The man standing with Rockweiler was Regulus.
"We need to get out of here," Remus hissed in his ear.
Sirius heard him but was unable to move. He watched his brother, entranced--the way Regulus scanned the party's guests with thinly veiled contempt, a familiar look in his eyes that Sirius had always loathed and tried berate out of him with mockery and insults when they were younger, but which had only been encouraged in Slytherin House.
Remus was tugging his arm, and finally Sirius stumbled back a step, ducking along with Remus behind a pair of stout wizards who peered back at them curiously.
"The door," Remus said, glancing back as if to judge the distance.
"I should have known," Sirius said "The stupid git. Do they even realize he's still in school?"
"We haven't time." Remus inched back, pulling Sirius along with him. They weren't drawing attention, not yet, though a few wizards and witches in their near vicinity gave them strange looks. They were closer to the door, now, only a few steps away.
"Baumgardner," they heard, and Rockweiler was standing in front of them, Regulus at his side.
This close to his brother, Sirius felt his anger build and almost boil over despite Remus's sharp look.
"You'll want to meet our honored guest, I'm sure," said Rockweiler.
Regulus, however, just looked impatient. "The Dark Lord didn't send me here to socialize."
"You must find this very tedious," Sirius said. "Serving as your master's lackey."
He heard Remus's soft intake of breath, and then Regulus's eyes narrowed on him. "Do I know you?"
"Simple suppliers," Rockweiler said hastily, possibly alarmed by this unexpected challenge to his guest. "Beneath your attention." He tried to draw Regulus away.
"Far beneath your attention," Sirius said. "Or that of your Lord's."
Regulus ignored Rockweiler, his gaze fixed on Sirius. "I do know you," he said. "That smirk...." He stilled, face hardening. "Rockweiler," he said sharply. "This man is a blood traitor."
Remus pulled out his wand, but Rockweiler had responded to Regulus's command and plucked Remus's wand away. He restrained him with a hand over his mouth before Remus could utter a spell.
Sirius hadn't moved, his eyes still locked with his brother's.
"Do you have a place to hold them?" Regulus asked Oxman, who had arrived in response to the commotion.
"Er, yes," Oxman said. His gaze passed over the group uneasily, hands smoothing the grey velvet of his robes in a nervous gesture. "I suppose there's the cellar."
"Lock both of them in it," Regulus said. "It won't take long for the potion to wear off."
"Potion?" Oxman appeared even more confused. "Not that I would question you or the one you serve...but do you know them?"
"Yes," said Regulus, eyeing Sirius like a dog would a long-withheld dinner. "I know him very well."
****
Regulus had looked exactly as he had four months ago, the last time Sirius saw him. His aura of satisfaction, however--close to triumph when he'd closed and locked the cellar door on them-- was new. Sirius wondered if it came from being in Voldemort's inner circle. If Regulus was in Voldemort's inner circle, that is, and hadn't just been sent to placate these second- rate dark wizards from East Wickham. Despite his apparent satisfaction, there was still hunger in Regulus's face. He wanted more.
Remus was by the cellar door, feeling along the cracks of the door and testing the hinges, which all looked very solid. "We're not getting out this way," he said finally. "And there are spells placed on the house to prevent Apparating." He went back to sit next to Sirius on a stack of piled bags that proved to be cat food upon further inspection.
"He's got the Polyjuice," Sirius said. "He took our cloaks, and the extra bottles are inside mine. And my wand."
Remus nodded. "How much longer, do you think?"
"An hour if we're lucky. Even with the double dosage, our days as Gorlitz and Baumgardner are numbered."
Remus leaned back against the cellar wall, which was cold and typically damp, the rough stone barely daubed over. He seemed almost serene, Sirius thought, though it was harder to read Remus's expressions on Gorlitz's face.
"I'm sorry," Sirius said.
Remus looked at him. "No, you're not," he said, but it wasn't an accusation.
"I'm sorry I let him get to me. We could have bluffed it out."
Remus shrugged. "I'm surprised he was able to recognize you at all. Polyjuice is nearly foolproof as a disguise. And he may be bluffing himself. He didn't identify you by name."
"He knows it's me," Sirius said, more sure of that than anything. "And he has only an hour to wait to be certain."
He looked around the small, cramped space of the cellar. Despite its general gloominess, it was what one would expect in the house of a well-to-do wizard: an old potions' cauldron lay abandoned in one corner with several copies of The Daily Prophet stacked inside. The top one was from 1945. There were a few boxes as well. Sirius crossed over to them and sifted through the jumble of glass beakers, a clock that no longer worked, a set of old china, and an antique but rusted tea pot, but there was nothing there that they could use.
He almost felt sorry for Oxman. He doubted the man had any idea what he was getting into.
He sat back down next to Remus. "I thought this was why we were assigned this mission together, so you could stop me from doing such bloody stupid things."
"No." Remus smiled. "Dumbledore knows better than to think I have any influence over you."
"I care what you think," Sirius said. "I just don't always think you're right."
"Would you have listened to James?"
Sirius leaned back against the wall. "Most of the time James isn't any more right than you are," he said, grinning a little. "But he's usually more persuasive."
Remus snorted.
Sirius brought his knees to his chest. The cellar was blastingly cold, though his shoulder was warm where it rested against Remus's. "So if Dumbledore didn't arrange for us to work together on this mission, who did?"
"I asked him," Remus said.
"Why?"
Remus didn't look at him. "Why do you think," he said lightly.
Simon Stanwick, Sirius thought, the name rushing unwelcome to his head like a spell gone awry and unpredictable between them. Certain things slipped into place; others became suddenly mysterious.
"You can't be surprised," Remus said. "I didn't think I was being particularly subtle."
Sirius stood to move his legs in the closeness of the cellar air, settling again by the far wall. "How do you---" he cleared his throat. "How do you know something like that? Is it only because I know what you are? That you don't need to pretend?"
"This isn't really the time to talk about this."
"Yes, it is. And you're the one who brought it up, by the way. How did you expect me to react?"
Remus didn't say anything. Even in the poor light of the cellar, there was tension in Remus's face--obscured by the less familiar features of Gorlitz but still there and recognizably Remus by anyone who knew him.
What they should be doing was working out a way to get out of this mess. But Remus was hunched inside himself and Sirius couldn't see a way out, in any case. Soon Regulus would return with his coterie of dark wizards, the Polyjuice would have worn off, and there'd be a Dark Mark in the sky that night above East Wickham.
Sirius shifted on the dirt floor of the cellar, and Remus's eyes flicked to him before moving away again. "Didn't you think about what would happen if it didn't work out?" Sirius asked. "Would we just never see each other again, the way you dropped Stanwick?"
"No," Remus said tiredly. "I didn't think that far ahead. Sirius, I think the Polyjuice is wearing off."
Sirius looked down at his hands. The skin on the back of them rippled, dark hair shrinking inward before disappearing into a plane of smoother, younger skin. The rest of his body was contorting as well, bones and skin rearranging themselves in shifts and bulges, until his clothes hung loosely and Sirius reached up to feel the contours of his own face.
He glanced over at Remus, who was his self again as well. "That was quicker than I expected."
"The potion may have been weakened," Remus said. "It's been several weeks since it was made."
As if Regulus had timed it perfectly, though Sirius was inclined to think it was just impatience, the cellar door opened. His brother's body filled up the entirety of the narrow door, shielding them from whoever would follow him in--but to Sirius's surprise, Regulus was alone and closed the door behind him.
Regulus's wand was pointed at Sirius, his eyes bright, cheeks flushed. "I knew it."
"Oh, put that away," Sirius said. "You never could hold your own against me. Besides, shouldn't you be in class? You wouldn't want to get detention."
"You arrogant bastard." Regulus's hand was white-knuckled on his wand.
"I wouldn't go about impugning my legitimacy if I were you. Rumors like that have a tendency to bleed over to other familiy members, or didn't your Slytherin mates ever tell you that?"
"They told me more than you ever could," Regulus said. Sirius wondered if he'd follow through with a spell, and mentally braced himself for it. But then Regulus relaxed his grip on his wand. "But that happens to be irrelevant at the moment. What is relevant is that you've been caught spying. The Dark Lord doesn't appreciate spies who aren't his own."
Remus had been quiet so far, eyes slipping back and forth between Sirius and his brother. Together they could possibly overwhelm Regulus before he could get a spell off, since he was stupid enough to have come in here alone. Remus caught his eye, asked the question, but Sirius shook his head.
"What are you going to do now, Regulus? You'll have to turn us over to Voldemort."
Regulus wet his lips. "Do you think that I won't?"
Sirius thought it very likely that he would. Regulus had always been susceptible to bullying; he wouldn't be able to resist the combined tactics of Voldemort's followers. "I don't know."
Regulus fingered his wand uncertainly. It was almost worse than his blind, stupid anger; he looked vulnerable and ten again, the last time they'd been able to hold a civil conversation with each other. "It's very easy to call them. They could be here almost immediately."
Sirius grabbed Regulus's wrist before his brother could pull away. He yanked up the sleeve of his robe to reveal a mark the color of dark, sluggish blood on Regulus's skin. "Regulus, how could you be so stupid."
Regulus pulled away and did throw a spell at him then, which Sirius was able to duck only at the last minute. It crashed against the cellar wall and melted in a vat of smoldering stone. Sirius straightened. His hands were shaking.
"Listen to yourself. The Dark Lord, or whatever ridiculous name he's calling himself, will eat you alive. Do our parents even know what you're doing?"
Another spell, another crash against the stone. Dust flew up in a cloud of white. "Of course they do. I'm not the embarrassment of the family. They're proud of the work I'm doing."
"That's because they're monsters."
Anger twisted Regulus's face. He raised his wand, and Sirius didn't think he'd be able to duck this one. "Crucio."
The pain was worse than their first aborted attempts at the Animagus spell. It was worse than anything. It was like a white, burning light, a sun that engulfed him. He couldn't think through it. He couldn't move his arms to fend it off, though he was vaguely aware that he was jerking uncontrollably on the hard ground of the cellar. It was like trying to escape something inside him that ate through his heart and bones with a relentless hunger.
Then the pain was gone. He could still feel it twitching in his fingers and legs. His throat felt as if he'd swallowed a burning sword. He wondered if he'd screamed.
He realized that Remus's arms were wrapped around his chest and that Regulus was crouched down in a corner of the cellar. He looked young and pale and almost frightened.
"You always were an idiot, Regulus," Sirius said. It came out in a croak. Remus's arms tightened around him and he could feel Remus's face next to his, hair scratching Sirius's cheek. Remus's hands and arms were white with red marks where he'd gripped them.
Still huddled in the corner, Regulus pulled at the edge of his robe, rubbing his fingers absently on the cloth. "This is what the Sorting Hat said would happen."
Sirius closed his eyes. He still felt a bit dizzy. "What are you talking about?"
"It said one day I would hold you in my power instead of the other way around."
"I think it was being ironical." Remus stiffened against him, but didn't say anything.
Eyes flashing, Regulus's wand jerked in his hand. "Do you have any idea how much I hate you?"
"Yes," said Sirius. "I think we established that when you were ten. But you should still let us go."
"I can't let you go."
"Yes, you can. You have the Polyjuice. Let us have it, tell your friends that it was a mistake, and we'll disappear."
"It's always so easy for you," Regulus said. "You have no idea."
"No," Sirius said. "But I haven't let myself be bullied into something so stupid, either."
Regulus stared up at him angrily. "Here," he said. He stood and crossed over to them, and held out two bottles. The Polyjuice.
Sirius sat up and took them. He couldn't believe Regulus would actually just let them go. "Regulus--" he said, but he didn't know how to say the words with any sincerity. He wished his parents had been the least affectionate with them so he would know how it was all supposed to work. "You shouldn't be here, either. Go back to Hogwarts. Or go back with me--I have a flat, you can stay there--"
Regulus turned away. "You don't even mean that. Why would you say it? You know I'd never go with you, anyway."
****
The locked up the shop and Apparated back to Sirius's flat.
It was cold and dark. Remus found some candles and lighted them, placing two on the ancient coffee table. Sirius sought out the comfort of the chair. It seemed ages since he'd last sat in it.
"I can go if you'd rather," Remus said.
Sirius shook his head. They'd taken enough of the Polyjuice to get out of the house and walk back to the shop before Apparating, and the effects had since faded. He stared at the candles and the shadows they cast on Remus's face, shaped like the imprint of a hand. He would be happy never to take that particular potion again.
He fit his hand over the shadowy imprint, brushing his fingers over Remus's skin. "I don't want to talk about Regulus," Sirius said.
Remus pulled Sirius's hand from his face, but he didn't let go of it. He threaded his fingers through Sirius's. "We don't have to talk about Regulus. We can talk about--I don't know. The fact that Dumbledore will never trust us with another mission."
Sirius laughed. Something loosened inside him. He rubbed his thumb against Remus's, leaned in, and kissed him. Remus's lips were warm. With his other hand he traced the faint line of scars that stretched across Remus's neck and jaw.
After a moment, Remus pulled away. He didn't look particularly happy.
"Perhaps I just needed to get used to the idea," Sirius said.
"There's hardly been time," Remus said wryly.
"Then perhaps I've always been used to it, and just didn't know it."
Remus smiled a little. "You're a liar," he said, but he kissed him back. Remus was hesitant at first so Sirius bit his lip and pushed until Remus grabbed the back of Sirius's head to keep it steady while he kissed him properly. They ended up on the floor. Remus rested his head in the cradle of his elbow, studying Sirius bemusedly. "You were jealous of him, weren't you."
Sirius had managed to half-unbutton what had once been Gorlitz's shirt. "Who?"
"Simon."
"A bit sure of yourself, are you, Lupin." Sirius released two more buttons. Scars spread across Remus's chest like an artist's sketch. Some were white and some were red and puckered at the edges.
"No," Remus said. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. "I wouldn't, you know, 'drop you like I did Stanwick'. If that's what worries you."
"And here I thought we were just going to have sex."
Remus looked at him. "We can do that, too." He smiled a little. "I don't suppose we could get something to eat first."
Sirius thought he'd rather have sex, but he was hungry, too. "There's fish and chips at the corner."
Sirius rooted through his trunk brought down by the Potters and found two pairs of trousers, a jumper, and a favorite shirt he thought he'd lost three years ago. It was a little tight on him, so he gave it to Remus. It was tight on him, too, but Remus didn't seem to mind.
It was a cold walk down to the corner, but the shop was warm and bright, and the smell of fried batter permeated everything. There were two small tables in the corner by the window. They took their food to one of them.
Remus reached for the vinegar.
"Revolting," Sirius said, as Remus soaked his food in it. His chips were practically dripping.
"Yes," Remus agreed, and ate a chip. There were still smudges under his eyes, but there was a restful look there as well. "We still have to get the rest of our things from the shop."
"We should notify the Order, I suppose." Sirius burned his mouth on a bite of fish. "They can pass the information on to the Ministry."
"I, ah, already did," Remus said. "Before we left the shop. I didn't say anything about Regulus."
Sirius picked at his chips. "It would probably do him some good to be locked up for a bit."
"The Ministry hasn't been kind to Death Eaters," Remus said. "Not that they should," he added, at Sirius's look. "Besides, he might still turn around."
"I doubt it," Sirius said.
Remus finished his chips and began to eat Sirius's. Sirius rescued a few of them. "Now that our cover is at the very least strained," Remus said, "I'll need a place to stay."
"Sure. You can sleep on the couch."
Remus gave him a reproachful look.
"It's where I sleep. You'll have noticed I don't have a bed."
"Hm." Remus finished Sirius's chips and licked his fingers. "I think I saw a furniture shop down the road."
END
Parts 1 and 2
Part 3
***
3
The walk to 47 Willoughby Court was a chilly one. At some point the days had slipped into October and the nights were colder and the sky clearer, showing a range of stars that Sirius was sure had never existed in London. East Wickham at night was almost tolerable; its picturesque streets and houses built just so were bound in shadows, and chimneys sat like gargoyles on the roofs.
A kind of wildness pulsed through him, unexpected but welcome; he wanted to be Padfoot, barking at the neighbors or just running through the streets, faster until he'd circled the entire village.
"Turn down this lane," Remus said, reading the map under the light of a street lamp and the waning moon. Sirius wished he could share a little of what he was feeling, and that Remus would understand.
"You've remembered the extra Polyjuice?"
"Yes," Sirius said. "You've asked me twice. We won't even stay long enough to need it. A quick tour of the room, listen in on some conversations, make an excuse to leave or just slip out the back. They'll be too busy to notice us."
"Hm," Remus said skeptically, but he was past trying to dissuade him.
It wasn't long until they reached the house. It was at the end of a cul-de-sac, houses painted white with black shutters like eyes peering down at them, the front doors large and coldly unlit. A rose garden grew in front of number 47. Each petal was perfectly displayed. Sirius resisted the urge to pick one.
Oxman answered the door. "Excellent! You've arrived." He ushered them into the house, which was brightly lit and almost comfortable. He offered to take their cloaks, but Sirius had the Polyjuice in his inside pocket and declined. He looked around. A fire burned in the other room. Several wizards and witches stood in clusters, chatting as if it were the office Christmas party.
"Come in," Oxman said. He was dressed in rich velvet robes the color of smoke, which fit him much better than the Muggle suit. "Have some punch."
"Er," Remus said.
"I'll introduce you to Bruella," Oxman continued, as he guided them into the room.
Oxman left them with a strikingly handsome witch. Grey-streaked hair was piled on top of her head, topped by an elaborate headdress of black feathers.
"Gorlitz and Baumgardner," she said, drawing the names out curiously. "Very familiar. Are you sure we don't know one another?"
Remus cleared his throat. "We run the shop on High Street."
"Ah, yes. How interesting." Bruella looked anything but interested, sipping her punch, bright orange smoke drifting over the edge of the glass. "Ox's parties are always so dull," she said. "Oh look, there's Bockerbee." She waved him over.
Bockerbee was only slightly older than they were. Sirius thought he might have been at Hogwarts but couldn't place him. His face was flushed and he held an extra glass of punch in his hand that he thrust in the direction of Sirius, who took it cautiously. "You'll never guess who's here."
"I'd rather not," Bruella said. "I despise guessing. Besides, Ox has already told me that he will be here."
"Voldemort?" Remus said.
Bruella looked him strangely. "The Dark Lord? Of course not. How perfectly ghastly."
"But one of them," Bockerbee said, in a voice of barely-restrained excitement. "The Dark Lord's man. He's here to gather support. We'll soon be able to prove our loyalty."
"Do stop going on like that," said Bruella, but she was interrupted by the chime of glass near the fireplace. Conversation in the room dwindled to a few murmurs, attention focusing on the man
standing next to the mantle.
Sirius nudged Remus. "Rockweiler," he mouthed.
"Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed company," Rockweiler said, still looking as disgruntled as Sirius remembered. "We are truly honored today." He gestured to a slight, dark man who stood a few feet away, slumped demeanor indicating boredom and impatience at Rockweiler's posturing. But he straightened at the invitation to stand next to him by the fire. The flames illuminated a young face with sharp cheekbones under a stylish cut of black hair.
Sirius gripped the glass in his hand until he could almost hear the glass creak. Something tightened in his chest. The man standing with Rockweiler was Regulus.
"We need to get out of here," Remus hissed in his ear.
Sirius heard him but was unable to move. He watched his brother, entranced--the way Regulus scanned the party's guests with thinly veiled contempt, a familiar look in his eyes that Sirius had always loathed and tried berate out of him with mockery and insults when they were younger, but which had only been encouraged in Slytherin House.
Remus was tugging his arm, and finally Sirius stumbled back a step, ducking along with Remus behind a pair of stout wizards who peered back at them curiously.
"The door," Remus said, glancing back as if to judge the distance.
"I should have known," Sirius said "The stupid git. Do they even realize he's still in school?"
"We haven't time." Remus inched back, pulling Sirius along with him. They weren't drawing attention, not yet, though a few wizards and witches in their near vicinity gave them strange looks. They were closer to the door, now, only a few steps away.
"Baumgardner," they heard, and Rockweiler was standing in front of them, Regulus at his side.
This close to his brother, Sirius felt his anger build and almost boil over despite Remus's sharp look.
"You'll want to meet our honored guest, I'm sure," said Rockweiler.
Regulus, however, just looked impatient. "The Dark Lord didn't send me here to socialize."
"You must find this very tedious," Sirius said. "Serving as your master's lackey."
He heard Remus's soft intake of breath, and then Regulus's eyes narrowed on him. "Do I know you?"
"Simple suppliers," Rockweiler said hastily, possibly alarmed by this unexpected challenge to his guest. "Beneath your attention." He tried to draw Regulus away.
"Far beneath your attention," Sirius said. "Or that of your Lord's."
Regulus ignored Rockweiler, his gaze fixed on Sirius. "I do know you," he said. "That smirk...." He stilled, face hardening. "Rockweiler," he said sharply. "This man is a blood traitor."
Remus pulled out his wand, but Rockweiler had responded to Regulus's command and plucked Remus's wand away. He restrained him with a hand over his mouth before Remus could utter a spell.
Sirius hadn't moved, his eyes still locked with his brother's.
"Do you have a place to hold them?" Regulus asked Oxman, who had arrived in response to the commotion.
"Er, yes," Oxman said. His gaze passed over the group uneasily, hands smoothing the grey velvet of his robes in a nervous gesture. "I suppose there's the cellar."
"Lock both of them in it," Regulus said. "It won't take long for the potion to wear off."
"Potion?" Oxman appeared even more confused. "Not that I would question you or the one you serve...but do you know them?"
"Yes," said Regulus, eyeing Sirius like a dog would a long-withheld dinner. "I know him very well."
****
Regulus had looked exactly as he had four months ago, the last time Sirius saw him. His aura of satisfaction, however--close to triumph when he'd closed and locked the cellar door on them-- was new. Sirius wondered if it came from being in Voldemort's inner circle. If Regulus was in Voldemort's inner circle, that is, and hadn't just been sent to placate these second- rate dark wizards from East Wickham. Despite his apparent satisfaction, there was still hunger in Regulus's face. He wanted more.
Remus was by the cellar door, feeling along the cracks of the door and testing the hinges, which all looked very solid. "We're not getting out this way," he said finally. "And there are spells placed on the house to prevent Apparating." He went back to sit next to Sirius on a stack of piled bags that proved to be cat food upon further inspection.
"He's got the Polyjuice," Sirius said. "He took our cloaks, and the extra bottles are inside mine. And my wand."
Remus nodded. "How much longer, do you think?"
"An hour if we're lucky. Even with the double dosage, our days as Gorlitz and Baumgardner are numbered."
Remus leaned back against the cellar wall, which was cold and typically damp, the rough stone barely daubed over. He seemed almost serene, Sirius thought, though it was harder to read Remus's expressions on Gorlitz's face.
"I'm sorry," Sirius said.
Remus looked at him. "No, you're not," he said, but it wasn't an accusation.
"I'm sorry I let him get to me. We could have bluffed it out."
Remus shrugged. "I'm surprised he was able to recognize you at all. Polyjuice is nearly foolproof as a disguise. And he may be bluffing himself. He didn't identify you by name."
"He knows it's me," Sirius said, more sure of that than anything. "And he has only an hour to wait to be certain."
He looked around the small, cramped space of the cellar. Despite its general gloominess, it was what one would expect in the house of a well-to-do wizard: an old potions' cauldron lay abandoned in one corner with several copies of The Daily Prophet stacked inside. The top one was from 1945. There were a few boxes as well. Sirius crossed over to them and sifted through the jumble of glass beakers, a clock that no longer worked, a set of old china, and an antique but rusted tea pot, but there was nothing there that they could use.
He almost felt sorry for Oxman. He doubted the man had any idea what he was getting into.
He sat back down next to Remus. "I thought this was why we were assigned this mission together, so you could stop me from doing such bloody stupid things."
"No." Remus smiled. "Dumbledore knows better than to think I have any influence over you."
"I care what you think," Sirius said. "I just don't always think you're right."
"Would you have listened to James?"
Sirius leaned back against the wall. "Most of the time James isn't any more right than you are," he said, grinning a little. "But he's usually more persuasive."
Remus snorted.
Sirius brought his knees to his chest. The cellar was blastingly cold, though his shoulder was warm where it rested against Remus's. "So if Dumbledore didn't arrange for us to work together on this mission, who did?"
"I asked him," Remus said.
"Why?"
Remus didn't look at him. "Why do you think," he said lightly.
Simon Stanwick, Sirius thought, the name rushing unwelcome to his head like a spell gone awry and unpredictable between them. Certain things slipped into place; others became suddenly mysterious.
"You can't be surprised," Remus said. "I didn't think I was being particularly subtle."
Sirius stood to move his legs in the closeness of the cellar air, settling again by the far wall. "How do you---" he cleared his throat. "How do you know something like that? Is it only because I know what you are? That you don't need to pretend?"
"This isn't really the time to talk about this."
"Yes, it is. And you're the one who brought it up, by the way. How did you expect me to react?"
Remus didn't say anything. Even in the poor light of the cellar, there was tension in Remus's face--obscured by the less familiar features of Gorlitz but still there and recognizably Remus by anyone who knew him.
What they should be doing was working out a way to get out of this mess. But Remus was hunched inside himself and Sirius couldn't see a way out, in any case. Soon Regulus would return with his coterie of dark wizards, the Polyjuice would have worn off, and there'd be a Dark Mark in the sky that night above East Wickham.
Sirius shifted on the dirt floor of the cellar, and Remus's eyes flicked to him before moving away again. "Didn't you think about what would happen if it didn't work out?" Sirius asked. "Would we just never see each other again, the way you dropped Stanwick?"
"No," Remus said tiredly. "I didn't think that far ahead. Sirius, I think the Polyjuice is wearing off."
Sirius looked down at his hands. The skin on the back of them rippled, dark hair shrinking inward before disappearing into a plane of smoother, younger skin. The rest of his body was contorting as well, bones and skin rearranging themselves in shifts and bulges, until his clothes hung loosely and Sirius reached up to feel the contours of his own face.
He glanced over at Remus, who was his self again as well. "That was quicker than I expected."
"The potion may have been weakened," Remus said. "It's been several weeks since it was made."
As if Regulus had timed it perfectly, though Sirius was inclined to think it was just impatience, the cellar door opened. His brother's body filled up the entirety of the narrow door, shielding them from whoever would follow him in--but to Sirius's surprise, Regulus was alone and closed the door behind him.
Regulus's wand was pointed at Sirius, his eyes bright, cheeks flushed. "I knew it."
"Oh, put that away," Sirius said. "You never could hold your own against me. Besides, shouldn't you be in class? You wouldn't want to get detention."
"You arrogant bastard." Regulus's hand was white-knuckled on his wand.
"I wouldn't go about impugning my legitimacy if I were you. Rumors like that have a tendency to bleed over to other familiy members, or didn't your Slytherin mates ever tell you that?"
"They told me more than you ever could," Regulus said. Sirius wondered if he'd follow through with a spell, and mentally braced himself for it. But then Regulus relaxed his grip on his wand. "But that happens to be irrelevant at the moment. What is relevant is that you've been caught spying. The Dark Lord doesn't appreciate spies who aren't his own."
Remus had been quiet so far, eyes slipping back and forth between Sirius and his brother. Together they could possibly overwhelm Regulus before he could get a spell off, since he was stupid enough to have come in here alone. Remus caught his eye, asked the question, but Sirius shook his head.
"What are you going to do now, Regulus? You'll have to turn us over to Voldemort."
Regulus wet his lips. "Do you think that I won't?"
Sirius thought it very likely that he would. Regulus had always been susceptible to bullying; he wouldn't be able to resist the combined tactics of Voldemort's followers. "I don't know."
Regulus fingered his wand uncertainly. It was almost worse than his blind, stupid anger; he looked vulnerable and ten again, the last time they'd been able to hold a civil conversation with each other. "It's very easy to call them. They could be here almost immediately."
Sirius grabbed Regulus's wrist before his brother could pull away. He yanked up the sleeve of his robe to reveal a mark the color of dark, sluggish blood on Regulus's skin. "Regulus, how could you be so stupid."
Regulus pulled away and did throw a spell at him then, which Sirius was able to duck only at the last minute. It crashed against the cellar wall and melted in a vat of smoldering stone. Sirius straightened. His hands were shaking.
"Listen to yourself. The Dark Lord, or whatever ridiculous name he's calling himself, will eat you alive. Do our parents even know what you're doing?"
Another spell, another crash against the stone. Dust flew up in a cloud of white. "Of course they do. I'm not the embarrassment of the family. They're proud of the work I'm doing."
"That's because they're monsters."
Anger twisted Regulus's face. He raised his wand, and Sirius didn't think he'd be able to duck this one. "Crucio."
The pain was worse than their first aborted attempts at the Animagus spell. It was worse than anything. It was like a white, burning light, a sun that engulfed him. He couldn't think through it. He couldn't move his arms to fend it off, though he was vaguely aware that he was jerking uncontrollably on the hard ground of the cellar. It was like trying to escape something inside him that ate through his heart and bones with a relentless hunger.
Then the pain was gone. He could still feel it twitching in his fingers and legs. His throat felt as if he'd swallowed a burning sword. He wondered if he'd screamed.
He realized that Remus's arms were wrapped around his chest and that Regulus was crouched down in a corner of the cellar. He looked young and pale and almost frightened.
"You always were an idiot, Regulus," Sirius said. It came out in a croak. Remus's arms tightened around him and he could feel Remus's face next to his, hair scratching Sirius's cheek. Remus's hands and arms were white with red marks where he'd gripped them.
Still huddled in the corner, Regulus pulled at the edge of his robe, rubbing his fingers absently on the cloth. "This is what the Sorting Hat said would happen."
Sirius closed his eyes. He still felt a bit dizzy. "What are you talking about?"
"It said one day I would hold you in my power instead of the other way around."
"I think it was being ironical." Remus stiffened against him, but didn't say anything.
Eyes flashing, Regulus's wand jerked in his hand. "Do you have any idea how much I hate you?"
"Yes," said Sirius. "I think we established that when you were ten. But you should still let us go."
"I can't let you go."
"Yes, you can. You have the Polyjuice. Let us have it, tell your friends that it was a mistake, and we'll disappear."
"It's always so easy for you," Regulus said. "You have no idea."
"No," Sirius said. "But I haven't let myself be bullied into something so stupid, either."
Regulus stared up at him angrily. "Here," he said. He stood and crossed over to them, and held out two bottles. The Polyjuice.
Sirius sat up and took them. He couldn't believe Regulus would actually just let them go. "Regulus--" he said, but he didn't know how to say the words with any sincerity. He wished his parents had been the least affectionate with them so he would know how it was all supposed to work. "You shouldn't be here, either. Go back to Hogwarts. Or go back with me--I have a flat, you can stay there--"
Regulus turned away. "You don't even mean that. Why would you say it? You know I'd never go with you, anyway."
****
The locked up the shop and Apparated back to Sirius's flat.
It was cold and dark. Remus found some candles and lighted them, placing two on the ancient coffee table. Sirius sought out the comfort of the chair. It seemed ages since he'd last sat in it.
"I can go if you'd rather," Remus said.
Sirius shook his head. They'd taken enough of the Polyjuice to get out of the house and walk back to the shop before Apparating, and the effects had since faded. He stared at the candles and the shadows they cast on Remus's face, shaped like the imprint of a hand. He would be happy never to take that particular potion again.
He fit his hand over the shadowy imprint, brushing his fingers over Remus's skin. "I don't want to talk about Regulus," Sirius said.
Remus pulled Sirius's hand from his face, but he didn't let go of it. He threaded his fingers through Sirius's. "We don't have to talk about Regulus. We can talk about--I don't know. The fact that Dumbledore will never trust us with another mission."
Sirius laughed. Something loosened inside him. He rubbed his thumb against Remus's, leaned in, and kissed him. Remus's lips were warm. With his other hand he traced the faint line of scars that stretched across Remus's neck and jaw.
After a moment, Remus pulled away. He didn't look particularly happy.
"Perhaps I just needed to get used to the idea," Sirius said.
"There's hardly been time," Remus said wryly.
"Then perhaps I've always been used to it, and just didn't know it."
Remus smiled a little. "You're a liar," he said, but he kissed him back. Remus was hesitant at first so Sirius bit his lip and pushed until Remus grabbed the back of Sirius's head to keep it steady while he kissed him properly. They ended up on the floor. Remus rested his head in the cradle of his elbow, studying Sirius bemusedly. "You were jealous of him, weren't you."
Sirius had managed to half-unbutton what had once been Gorlitz's shirt. "Who?"
"Simon."
"A bit sure of yourself, are you, Lupin." Sirius released two more buttons. Scars spread across Remus's chest like an artist's sketch. Some were white and some were red and puckered at the edges.
"No," Remus said. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. "I wouldn't, you know, 'drop you like I did Stanwick'. If that's what worries you."
"And here I thought we were just going to have sex."
Remus looked at him. "We can do that, too." He smiled a little. "I don't suppose we could get something to eat first."
Sirius thought he'd rather have sex, but he was hungry, too. "There's fish and chips at the corner."
Sirius rooted through his trunk brought down by the Potters and found two pairs of trousers, a jumper, and a favorite shirt he thought he'd lost three years ago. It was a little tight on him, so he gave it to Remus. It was tight on him, too, but Remus didn't seem to mind.
It was a cold walk down to the corner, but the shop was warm and bright, and the smell of fried batter permeated everything. There were two small tables in the corner by the window. They took their food to one of them.
Remus reached for the vinegar.
"Revolting," Sirius said, as Remus soaked his food in it. His chips were practically dripping.
"Yes," Remus agreed, and ate a chip. There were still smudges under his eyes, but there was a restful look there as well. "We still have to get the rest of our things from the shop."
"We should notify the Order, I suppose." Sirius burned his mouth on a bite of fish. "They can pass the information on to the Ministry."
"I, ah, already did," Remus said. "Before we left the shop. I didn't say anything about Regulus."
Sirius picked at his chips. "It would probably do him some good to be locked up for a bit."
"The Ministry hasn't been kind to Death Eaters," Remus said. "Not that they should," he added, at Sirius's look. "Besides, he might still turn around."
"I doubt it," Sirius said.
Remus finished his chips and began to eat Sirius's. Sirius rescued a few of them. "Now that our cover is at the very least strained," Remus said, "I'll need a place to stay."
"Sure. You can sleep on the couch."
Remus gave him a reproachful look.
"It's where I sleep. You'll have noticed I don't have a bed."
"Hm." Remus finished Sirius's chips and licked his fingers. "I think I saw a furniture shop down the road."
END