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Imperius by Pallas

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4: Brief Encounters

He had to say something. He knew he had to say something. But his mouth felt like the Sahara and his brain, aware that he had just been made a fool of, had decided to flee for cover. Remus dearly wished he could do the same.

He worked his mouth furiously for a moment in an effort to expel some kind of words. In the end, he just about managed it.

“Um. Hello.”

Crimson as the Hogwarts Express, Felisha managed a wan smile. “Hello Remus,” she replied, with a kind of vague desperation. “It’s been a while.”

Oh dear Gods, why couldn’t he stop blushing? I am thirty-seven years old! He reminded himself sternly. I am not an embarrassed sixteen year old! This is not the Hogwarts Prefect’s Bathroom. Be an adult, Lupin!

But his treacherous mind refused to listen, flashing up image after image from that night in the bathroom and the look on her face when she walked in and saw…

Remus swallowed hard and forced himself to smile.

“It has, hasn’t it?” he managed bravely. “And I have to say this is the last place I expected to run into you again.”

“Oh, I work here,” Felisha leapt immediately onto the opening in the conversation. “I’ve been here about six months now. I’m a magizoologist.”

Remus smiled more genuinely, his mind flashing back to more pleasant recollections of a Ravenclaw prefect who smiled through even the worst of weathers in the classes of Professor Kettleburn. “Well that’s no surprise,” he said almost cheerfully. “You always were very good at Care of Magical Creatures.”

A few feet away, Tonks snorted violently against her clipboard, clearly fighting the giggles. The glare with which Remus pinned only made her struggles worse.

Felisha’s blush deepened sharply. “Well, anyway,” she said awkwardly. “I have work…” She flourished her now crumpled papers almost frantically. “Nice seeing you again, though.”

“You too.” Was it wrong to pray so hard for the earth to swallow him up? “And I’m sorry about earlier, I…” He waved one hand in wild circles, shooting a quick but hard look at Tonks. “I thought you were somebody else.”

Tonks leapt hurriedly in. “I change my hair a lot,” she said with a silly smile. “I charm it different colours, especially when I’m bored or waiting for someone.” She giggled. “It annoys the Professor rather. And I think, from the back, he thought you were me…”

Felisha’s expression was vaguely relieved. “Ah,” she said with a nod. “I see.”

Remus smiled again. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he probably resembled a manic clown. “Sorry,” he said again. “My mistake.”

And then, blessed be her name, Cymone appeared from the office behind her desk, glancing between Felisha and Remus with a slightly strange expression on her face.

“Ah… R…ready to go, Professor Lupin?” she asked uncertainly.

Remus nodded emphatically. “Absolutely.”

Felisha was nodding too. “I’d hate to keep you. Waiting,” she added hurriedly. “Don’t want to keep you waiting if you have to go…”

“I do have to go.” Remus gestured over his shoulder. “So… Bye then.”

“Bye.” Felisha repeated with a quick, awkward smile. And then she was gone, rushing into a nearby corridor at a near run and vanishing hurriedly from sight.

Mortification was an interesting sensation, Remus mused, for caught up in its grasp he managed to ignore the smirk of Tonks and the bemused expression of Cymone. Instead, he simply walked quietly over to the nearest wall, closed his eyes, and laid his head against it in silent but profound embarrassment.

* * *

“You knew. Didn’t you?”

The wind whipped across the heather as Remus and Tonks descended briskly down the narrow path that lead into the wooded valley below the moor and to the quiet, lonely little station for the Muggle steam train that would take them safely out of the Institute’s extensive anti-apparation zone. Pulling her cloak more firmly around her, Tonks gave Remus a cheeky smile.

“Course I knew,” she replied easily. “I read up on the Institute staff before we came, to see if there were any likely suspects. And there was her name, clear as day.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Remus was gazing down into the woods below with an intense and deliberate calm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Tonks grinned wickedly, in a manner much reminiscent of her cousin. “I didn’t want to spoil the surprise?”

Remus did not look at her. He did not even turn his head. He simply continued to stare straight ahead and his voice, when it came, was bland and casual.

“Tonks,” he said quietly. “I’m going to kill you.”

“I appreciate that.”

“It will be a slow death.”

“That’s understandable.”

“There will rending of limbs.”

“Moody always says I’ve got more limbs than I can safely deal with.”

“Much blood and much pain.”

“Goody-good.” Tonks clapped her hands together. “It’s always fun to have something to look forward to. But can I have a last request before my gruesome death?”

Remus glanced at her sideways. “That depends on the request.”

Tonks smiled more genuinely as they dropped down off the edge of the moor and into the trees below. “Can I have a last drink at the Three Broomsticks? That moor was freezing and I’m dying for a butterbeer.”

In spite of himself, Remus smiled back. “I suppose since we were split up we do need to debrief before reporting to Dumbledore. All right, you have your stay of execution. But it’s only a stay.”

Tonks grinned again. “You’re a soft executioner. I may yet wheedle my way to freedom.”

Remus’ glare was mock steel. “After putting me through that? Not likely.”

There were only two other people waiting at the remote station when Remus and Tonks arrived, a pair of Muggle walkers who nodded politely to Remus as he joined them, his robes temporarily transfigured into a scruffy Muggle jacket and jeans. Tonks, who was not a fan of messing with her clothes, lurked disillusioned in the shadows at his shoulder until the Muggle steam train puffed to a halt at the platform. Remus smiled fondly “ the old steam train could have been the Hogwarts Express but for the holidaymakers and tourists that roamed its compartments in place of the children. They moved quickly on board and travelled quietly down a barren valley to the pretty station at a nearby village, before slipping off quietly into the station toilets and apparating quickly to Hogsmeade.

The Three Broomsticks was packed, as one would expect on a Sunday afternoon in spring, but Tonks managed to grab a secluded table in a corner by the fire and cast a rapid charm to conceal what they were saying from any eavesdroppers who might have been lurking nearby. And then, nursing a butterbeer each and a plate of Madam Rosmerta’s delicious beef stew, they got down to business.

“Weird.” Tonks shook her head quietly as Remus finished his recitation of all that had occurred with Kane on Level Six. “Do you really think Professor Goldstein’s right? About this werewolf essence thing?”

Remus pursed his lips. “I think she might be. I mean it makes sense in a disturbing kind of way. And much as I dislike the woman, I would be interested to see where this research takes her.”

Tonks nodded sympathetically. “And seeing Kane again?”

“Was strange,” Remus admitted with gross understatement. “But then again, he wasn’t really Kane anymore. The feral that bit me is gone, almost certainly for good, and I can’t say any part of me is sorry. But to see the wreckage left behind…” He shook his head. “Strange.”

“What about Goldstein?” Tonks asked. “Did you get any feeling from her? Any sense that she was hiding something?”

Remus chuckled dryly. “Oh, I think she was hiding plenty. But whether that was because she was a Death Eater or because she just didn’t like me, I couldn’t possibly say.”

Tonks gave a wry smile. “You noticed that chill in the air as well?”

“Oh yes.” Remus sighed. “She definitely wasn’t interested in talking to me about anything but business. I had clearly been tried, judged and found guilty long before I even arrived. Unfortunately, I have no idea what the charges were.” He shook his head again. “The annoying thing is I could almost swear I’ve met that woman somewhere before. There’s something familiar about her that I just can’t place…”

Tonks looked thoughtful. “Do you want me to see what I can find out?”

Remus nodded absently, his mind still struggling to place his elusive sense of familiarity. “That might be good. Take a look at the others too while you’re at it.” He focussed himself abruptly. “Now what about you? Did you find anything interesting while you were entertaining yourself?”

Tonks made a face. “Nothing earth-shattering. No portraits of You-Know-Who or a thick dossier marked “Evil Death Eater Plans” alas. I checked out a few offices, looked over some files to see what they were up to but it was mostly bog standard werewolf research “ questioning the residents about their condition, studies on the behaviour of the ferals you mentioned on Level Six, comparisons of werewolves on Wolfsbane as opposed to those not. Just what you’d expect from a werewolf research facility.” She sighed. “I couldn’t get into Goldstein’s office. I tried but Cymone was there and I had to pretend I was looking for the bathroom. I had a bit of a chat with her “ she’s a lot calmer when she’s not in the same room as a werewolf, you know; apparently she had a bad run in with one a few years ago which is why she’s so twitchy around you.”

Remus raised an incredulous eyebrow. “And she works in the Feral Institute?”

Tonks shrugged. “She told me she wants to help. To stop it happening to anyone else. Anyway, I chatted with her, asked her about her workmates. She doesn’t like Croll, but then who would? She said he was nasty to everyone and very secretive about his medical work. Apparently he believes that his colleagues are out to steal his research and take his credit. Oh, and he hates werewolves. Treats them like nothing more than lab rats.”

“Hence his reaction to me.” Remus sighed. “Oh joy. What else did you learn?”

“Goldstein doesn’t like you but she doesn’t know why.” Tonks shrugged. “But she reckons she needs your opinion for something to do with her research or she’d never have asked you to come. Apparently she’s almost human with everyone else.”

“Lucky me,” Remus drawled sardonically. “To be so favoured.”

Tonks grinned. “Aylward, the security chief, is a humourless sod but he’s absolutely straight down the line,” she continued with a smile. “He’d sooner break his own fingers than the rules and he picks out men who think the same. And then there’s Unwin the caretaker, who we didn’t meet but apparently is in charge of looking after the werewolves downstairs, who Cymone described as a cantankerous old git, and Zelia the potions mistress, a new age idealist who sings folk songs over her cauldron of Wolfsbane to help the brewing process.” She grinned wickedly. “Oh and Felisha is a sweetheart.” At a dirty look from Remus, she rapidly moved on. “There are various other support staff and security officers but those are the Institute’s major players. So that probably makes them our chief suspects.” She frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe we’re going about this wrong headed, assuming one of them has to be a Death Eater. Folke did mention the Imperius curse…”

But Remus was already shaking his head. “Imperius can be broken. Someone would have to stay close at hand, maintain the spell and make sure the victim didn’t get free long enough to spill the beans. If Voldemort really is making a move of some kind within the Institute then someone there has to be either a Death Eater or a sympathiser. But the big questions have to be “ who and why?”

Tonks shook her head. “Haven’t the foggiest. You and Dumbledore are the brains of this operation, not me. I’m too tired and full of butterbeer to think.”

Remus smiled in spite of himself. “Succinctly put. And me too. My brain seems to have gone into hiding since my little encounter, for which, I might add, you are still not forgiven. Now come on. We’d better head up to Hogwarts and report what little we’ve found.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Concealing her wand beneath her cloak as she rose, Tonks quietly dropped the privacy spell, but her grin implied that she was not thinking about business. “But in spite of the threat against my life, I have to ask; what did happen between you and Felisha Hathaway in that bathroom?”

Remus froze. Slowly, deliberately and with definite threat, he raised his eyes to meet the wickedly grinning Tonks.

“That,” he intoned softly, “is information that goes with me to my grave. Or possibly to yours.”

Tonks raised her hands in a placatory fashion. “All right, all right. Now how are we getting in to the school?”

Remus fell in at her side as they moved towards the pub’s front door, which had just swung open to admit an awkwardly moving man wrapped in a green cloak. “Well if there’s no one in the courtyard, we can nip down the well passage and…”

His voice trailed off. His eyes fixed more distinctly upon the limping figure that had just stepped inside the bar. He stared.

“Dad?”

The cloaked figure started sharply, looking up. Hands wrinkled but still strong wrapped around the head of the cane that offset a crippled leg. Thick silver hair crowned a face that bore a distinct resemblance to Remus. A pair of brown eyes blinked.

It was indeed Reynard Lupin. And he was staring guiltily at his only son like a rabbit caught in a dragon’s den.

A/N: For anyone who is wondering why I chose to use a steam train rather than an ordinary train to convey Remus and Tonks out of the anti-apparation zone (I know my beta was!) “ it was, in truth, a bit of an in-joke. The setting I have turned into the Feral Institute is actually a real place (a military base, not a werewolf centre!) and it so happens that in the next valley along runs a restored steam train that by extraordinary coincidence has been used as a certain Hogwarts Express in a certain set of films. I became aware of this fact when I went on holiday nearby, caught the train for a day out and found it full of small children who had been dressed in robes, carried broomsticks and had lightning scars painted on their foreheads in red marker. ;) So everything described “ the route of the train, the lonely wooded station in the little valley and the pretty station that Remus and Tonks disembark at (which happens to be the film’s Hogsmeade station!) is completely real. What can I say? I liked the irony. ;)