22: The Great Escape
“Don’t you dare.”
“Now, Remus I have to put some kind of name down. I don’t see what is so wrong with…”
“No...”
“Romulus…”
“No.”
“…Moony…”
“Tonks!”
“There!” Tonks grinned cheekily at the glowering werewolf across the table as she tapped her quill on the pad. “Too late, Mr Moony. I’ve written it now.”
Remus unleashed a half-muffled sigh as he buried his face into the cupped shelter of his hands. “You’re punishing me, aren’t you?”
Tonks’ chuckle was alarming. “Well maybe this will teach you not to go hanging around in werewolf fetish clubs on your weekend off, professor. Besides, this is the second time in a week that I’ve been forced to forge an official document on your behalf. A little suffering as compensation for the risks I take is the least you can do.”
Remus raised his face from its secure hideaway, brow creased with sudden concern. “Tonks, talking of risks, are you sure about this? There are so many things that could go wrong…”
The Auror gave a deliberately offhand shrug that immediately told Remus that she was far more nervous about her tricky plan than she pretended. “I don’t have any better ideas, do you? They’ve done a headcount “ there’s no sneaking you out. You need to be seen to be inspected without actually being inspected or we’re sunk. I can only think of one way to do that. Come on. Let’s do this before I change my mind.”
Rising to his feet, Remus pulled up the hood of the transfigured drape that was doubling as his cloak and allowed himself to be hauled unceremoniously out of the alcove by Tonks. Shadowed in his newfound cowl, Remus nonetheless could not shake the uncomfortable sense of eyes burning into him as the young Auror led him out of the gloomy darkness towards the ball of light that now hovered near the door.
Dawlish, his nose still bloody, had not moved from his position by the exit. As an Auror approached, a sullen werewolf firm in his grasp, the Senior Auror snatched at one of his hands, turning it over in his grip as he examined the fingertips minutely. Then, with a rough hand, he grasped the werewolf’s chin, forcing the mouth open to expose the teeth and hauling down his eyelids to inspect the colour of his eyes by the makeshift magic light. Satisfied, he released the werewolf with a huff and sent the Auror and his prisoner on their way.
Remus and Tonks exchanged a glance. Neither bothered to conceal their nervousness now. Gritting her teeth, Tonks nodded. It was time.
“Hey! Rowley!”
The officially designated King of the raging pillocks glanced up from the alcove in which he had been skulking in order to avoid the necessity of doing any interviews, his face filled with anxious distaste as the Auror and the werewolf approached him. Tonks smiled at him with absolute insincerity.
“Rowley, mate, look after my werewolf for a moment, will you?” With a rough shove, Remus was thrust into Rowley’s unwilling grasp. “I need to talk to Dawlish. You know, because I’m doing actual work instead of hiding?”
Rowley flushed, shuffling back a little from his newfound charge. “Hey, now look…”
But Tonks was already gone, sweeping past the few steps to where Dawlish was stood glowering. His eyes narrowed at Tonks’ arrival “ after a few moments of hushed conversation, he nodded at her and turned to the room at large.
“I’m stepping out,” he declared abruptly, wiping his still dribbling nose rather unpleasantly on the hankie his assistant had provided. “Nobody takes any werewolves up to the Portkeys until I’m back to check them. Okay?”
There was a murmur of assent from the alcoves. With a nod, Dawlish and Tonks moved out through the doorway and vanished up the basement steps.
Remus released the breath he had unconsciously been holding. The first hurdle had been successfully vaulted. Now he just had to wait…
To his left, Rowley was regarding him with the utmost dislike. His clasp on his arm was barely a fingertip brush, as though to touch a werewolf any way other than peripherally would pass the dread infection on to him. His nose was screwed up with disdain.
“I suppose you think you’re so tough.” The words were a sneer, though the sneering of Rowley somehow lacked the style and deadly accuracy of one such as Severus Snape. Remus fought not to grin. It was possible even to give sneering a bad name. Rowley continued determinedly. “But I’ve got your number. You just like to play the hard man. You’re no match for me.”
Remus maintained his silence, rather amused at the idea of playing the hard man; of all the things he’d been accused of in his lifetime that was certainly a first. Glancing at Rowley, he quickly took his measure “ sweating, insecure and nervous, waiting for a defiant response that could be used as an excuse to vent his frustration. Just as politeness could thwart the barbs of Snape, it occurred to Remus that simply maintaining his unnerving silence would be enough to rattle Rowley. The slight twitch of the Auror’s left eyebrow at his lack of retort implied his assumption was correct.
He desperately fought to resist the urge to bare his teeth. That would be childish…
Rowley’s jaw was hardening belligerently. His fingers flexed with distasteful uncertainty. His composure was slipping.
Oh Hell. Tonks, just hurry up…
And then, silhouetted in the doorway, handkerchief still clasped around his nose, Dawlish reappeared. His narrowed eyes fixed upon Remus at once. His features grim, he turned sharply and strode determinedly over.
Remus felt his stomach turn under the intensive gaze, fighting a terrible plunging fear that something had gone badly wrong. Oh Merlin no, please…Tonks!
A harsh hand snatched at his wrist; with a sharp tug, he was dragged over to the light, Rowley lingering with irritating good humour a few yards away. His fingers were examined roughly, pulled and tugged before being thrust back sharply. He felt his chin clasped in a vice like grip.
And Dawlish hesitated. His eyes drifted to Rowley’s intense and interested gaze.
“What are you looking at?” The Auror’s voice was muffled and odd sounding under the hankie that cloaked his wounded nose. “Get back to work!”
Rowley started sharply. With a flash of horror at the reprimand, he vanished abruptly into the gloom.
Dawlish watched him go. And then, turning back to Remus, he winked.
Relief flooded Remus’ heart. Yes!
After a perfunctory glance at his face, “Dawlish” took a hold of his arm once more and firmly turned to escort him outside.
And came face to face with Dawlish’s officious young assistant.
The young man, his dark hair mussed, his face now swollen to unpleasant proportions stared at what appeared to be his commanding officer and blinked.
“Sir?” he said, his face a mask of bewilderment. “I thought you went down the street to investigate that tip off from Tonks about the cellar.”
“Dawlish” halted abruptly, his grip on the arm of his prisoner tightening slightly with a hint of anxiety. Out of the corner of his eye, Remus caught sight of Rowley, moving forward a few steps to eavesdrop surreptitiously and effectively sealing off their retreat.
They were trapped.
Scrunching the hankie determinedly around his nose, “Dawlish” met the gaze of the young Auror with steely coolness.
“I needed him to show me where it is, Sparrow,” he stated brusquely, his voice still muffled and odd-sounding beneath the heavily grasped material. “Now if you’d care to move out of my way…”
“But sir…” Unfortunately Sparrow, it seemed, was not one of that breed of Aurors who routinely followed his orders without question. “Out in the street with a werewolf alone, and the feral Kane still on the loose… Are you sure that’s wise? I mean…”
“Are you questioning my orders, Sparrow?” “Dawlish” cut him off with a high-pitched snap of words. “Are you looking for a disciplinary hearing?”
There was a pause. Sparrow’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Sir.” Remus did not like the suspicious inflection in the man’s tone. “Are you feeling all right? Your voice…”
Oh no. Remus dropped his gaze abruptly and shrank back in the shadow of his hood as the Auror’s eyes also flicked dubiously in his direction. A worrying hint of recognition flashed behind his stare as he glanced uncertainly towards the door behind him, his fingers twitching wand-wards
This plan was merrily winding its way towards Hell in a brightly coloured and highly decorated hand-basket.
What was needed here was a distraction. Anything that would give them time to think.
A little chaos courtesy of a tightly wound royal pillock might do nicely.
Turning his head sharply, Remus fixed a glare upon the lurking Rowley and viciously snapped his teeth.
Rowley’s eyes widened with bullish belligerence. “Why you stinking…”
He surged forward but the room was dark and the swing was clumsy; Remus dodged the swipe easily, dropping sharply to his knees and dragging “Dawlish” down with him as Rowley clattered fist first into the wall, tripping over his own feet as his momentum drove him forcefully against the panelling with a gasp. Sparrow took a step back, shocked and incredulous but a moment later, his composure solidified; frowning coldly, he marched forward and seized the other Auror unceremoniously by the robes, a reprimand clearly hovering on his lips.
Remus and “Dawlish” had ended up in a small heap on the floor. With an angry glare, the Auror reached forward and grabbed the werewolf firmly by the shoulders, mouth just inches from Remus’ ear.
“Create a diversion.” The words were a soft hiss. “I’ll modify their memories.”
A quick nod was all the acknowledgement that Remus had time for as he quickly palmed his wand. A moment later, he had been dragged back to his feet.
To the sound of silence.
Sparrow had ceased his reprimand. Rowley, still clutching his hand, was open-mouthed.
Both were starring with bewilderment at the rainbow-striped socks that poked rather uncharacteristically out from beneath the slightly too-short hem of their commanding officers robes.
Oops.
Time to go. Fast.
Remus raked the room hurriedly with his eyes and latched his gaze abruptly upon a large ale barrel battered but intact beside the counter of the bar. Perfect. Under the cover of his makeshift cloak, he aimed his wand.
“Reducto!”
The spell was no more than a whisper of breath. But nonetheless it proved effective.
The barrel exploded. Emphatically.
Aurors and werewolves alike leapt to their feet from all sides, cursing and swearing as liquid splattered liberally across anyone and everyone in range, wooden shrapnel sliced the air to clatter against the wall and twisted iron bindings twanged and span against the dance-floor. A hand slapped down against Remus’ arm almost at once, dragging him forwards; he caught a glimpse of the absent and dreamy expressions on the faces of Sparrow and Rowley as he was hustled past in the direction of the door. A vague tang of sympathetic solidarity rushed through him, accompanied by a mild rush of guilt.
Been there, done that, got the emotional scars. But what else could we have done?
And then suddenly the heavy gloom of The Howling was replaced by the sharp darkness of an autumn night. The door slammed shut behind them.
They were out. He was free.
The cold night air struck Remus with a rush as he moved out onto the basement steps. He had never felt a more beautiful sensation in his life.
At his side, “Dawlish” grinned. Abruptly a ripple seemed to shiver through his body as his face melted into the shape of a heart, his short, wiry, greying hair sprouting into raspberry coloured spikes once more as Nymphadora Tonks emerged at last from her disguise.
“Well that was fun,” she declared cheerfully. “If I’d have known a night out with you was so exciting, Remus, I’d have done this years ago.”
Remus shot her a mock half-smile. “Oh, you know me,” he commented sardonically. “Never a dull moment. Guaranteed thrills or your money back.”
Tonks laughed outright. “Sarky git. Honestly, those clothes have gone to your head.”
“Shame yours didn’t go to your feet.” Remus glanced down at his companions ankles, once more concealed as her form shrank back to normal height. “Honestly, Senior Auror Dawlish in rainbow striped socks?”
Tonks pulled a face. “Not really his style, are they? Good thing these Auror robes are generic though, or transvestite Dawlish would really have got their attention.”
Remus chuckled softly. “Didn’t you think to lengthen your robe a bit?”
“Household spells aren’t really my thing.” Tonks picked awkwardly at her robes with a grimace. “Last time I tried to adjust one of my cloaks, I ended up setting fire to it.”
Remus grinned. “Next time, bring it to me. With my limited resources, I’ve become a bit of an expert at adapting what I have. Speaking of adapting,” he added thoughtfully. “You must have cast those memory charms in a fair hurry. Are you sure they’re going to hold?”
Tonks shrugged easily. “They’ll hold long enough for me to find Kingsley tomorrow and talk him into doing the job properly. He’s the expert. Once he’s topped them both up, possible reprisals will no longer be a problem.”
Remus frowned slightly. “What about Dawlish?”
The young Auror gave him a sideways glance. “What about him?”
“Will he need to be topped up as well?”
Wide eyes stared back at him. “You think I memory charmed my boss? Are you mental? I’m not afraid to take a risk, but I’m not suicidal Remus!”
Remus wrinkled his nose in confusion. “Then how did you manage to get rid of Dawlish?”
Tonks shrugged again as she led the way up the steps, ignoring the muffled chaos left behind in their wake and maintaining her grip on his arm in at least a pretence of having him in custody. “I told him that my prisoner told me there was a cellar round the corner that the werewolves sometimes used as a hideaway. I suggested Kane might have ducked in there when he evaded our attacks. He went off to investigate with a couple of the others. So not only is he well out the way, we only have Spiers to negotiate to get you Portkeyed back to the cells.”
Remus fought down a surge of discomfort “ his internal declaration of freedom had apparently been premature. “Isn’t there some way to get me out of here that doesn’t involve locking me up for the night?”
Tonks sighed, her eyes sympathetic. “I’m sorry, mate. But you have to be accounted for or I’ll be the one doing the accounting. In fact you’d better hand your wand over to me now. If it’s still on you when we get to the cells, you’ll have it confiscated.”
Reluctantly, Remus withdrew his wand from its concealment beneath his coat and surrendered it with a sigh. Tonks took it carefully, and tucked it securely away with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, it won’t be too bad,” she told him with false cheer and a pat on the shoulder. “It’s just one night. I’ll be back in disguise to bail you as soon as my shift ends.” She grinned suddenly. “So when your long-suffering wife Mrs Moony comes to pick you up, don’t act too surprised.”
Remus nodded, feeling vaguely exposed without his wand as they stepped out onto the quiet street. A young man in Auror robes stood slouching a few yards away. A tin dustbin piled high with a random assortment of rubbish rested at his side.
Remus stared at the Auror. His stomach dropped as he darted back down the top steps, dragging Tonks rapidly with him. Fortunately the young man, looking decidedly bored as he gazed blankly at the sky, did not seem to notice.
Tonks was staring at her fellow Order member with resigned annoyance.
“Now what?” she almost snapped.
Remus stared wearily up at the stars. “You said his name is Spiers, right?”
“Yeah, that’s him. First year trainee on field assignment.”
“Anton Spiers?”
Tonks’ expression dropped like a stone. “You know him? How can you know him? He’s only nineteen…”
Remus’ gaze fixed upon her like steel, watching as realisation dawned across her face. With a sigh, she closed her eyes. “You taught him, didn’t you?”
Remus nodded silently. He couldn’t believe his bad luck.
Why could something be easy? One simple little thing?
Tonks gritted her teeth. “Right. You stay here and keep your head down.”
Remus glanced up sharply. “Where are you going?”
“To get us a Portkey.”
And before Remus could even respond, she had turned and darted back up the steps.
Remus cursed. What was she…?
“Hey, Anton. How’s it…Oops!”
A loud crash, the sound in fact of a tin dustbin tumbling to the ground and spilling its contents onto the pavements echoed through the quiet night.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”
“Tonks, it’s fine, I’ll get them, just leave it!”
“But it’s my fault, I want to help…”
There was a second crash. Spiers’ groan bounced from side to side off the brick buildings off the street. Remus grinned to himself. A reputation for clumsiness was not always a disadvantage.
“You don’t have to. Really!”
“If you’re sure…”
“I’m sure! I’m really sure! Thanks anyway, though.”
“Okay then. I’m sorry!”
“Yeah, yeah, I know…”
Abruptly, Tonks reappeared, backing apologetically onto the steps. Fortunately, Remus managed to catch her robes before she tumbled backwards down the stairs. The reputation might have proved useful, but Tonks had earned it for a reason.
The Auror grinned as Remus helped her back to her feet. “Knew you were useful for something. But I am too. Huzzah!” With a flourish, she withdrew a cloth wrapped tin can from her robes. “Tamper-proof, unfortunately - the destination’s set. It’s touch sensitive though, with a five second delay, so whenever you’re ready…”
Remus nodded wearily. He wasn’t sure he would ever be ready to spend a night in a Ministry holding cell. But it was better than Azkaban.
He suddenly realised that Tonks was grinning at him. He regarded her suspiciously.
“What?”
The Auror laughed. “Still love that outfit, by the way. And the dyed hair looks great.”
Remus narrowed his eyes. “You are a sick and deranged woman.”
Tonks’ grin was wicked. “I’m not the one wearing it, mate.”
The steely glare with which he fixed her was one of his best “ a cold gaze of true arctic ice that could probably have frightened a Hebridean Black into submission. But the Metamorphmagus only broadened her smile.
“Nice one, Remus. You’ve just mastered the disgruntled-werewolf-under-arrest look. Now just keep it up until we get to the cells, okay?”
A moment later, the steps of the shattered werewolf haven were filled with nothing but the light of the stars and the mess-fixing curses of the unfortunate Anton Spiers.
A/N: Until not long before posting, this chapter was fairly dull. There, Chriss, I admitted it! ;) It wasn’t so much by intent as lack of inspiration “ I simply could not think of a decent plan of escape and thus settled for a rather uneventful one. But thanks to the well-meaning and ultimately justified badgering of my beta, I finally had an idea and inserted a large section into the middle of the chapter to liven things up a bit. It was then generously beta-ed from a cruise liner somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean. *g* And so a big lump of the thanks for this chapter must be directed to Chriss Corkscrew. Thank you Chriss! :)