44: Dies Irae: Part Two
Remus Lupin is dead!
The words echoed in his head, dancing down from some distant world that felt a million miles away, and somehow they felt true. He remembered a plunge, a smash, blood and pain and hazy visions of an old school friend standing over him, his eyes and expression a mystery.
And then black. Deep black.
But he was not alone there. Faces haunted him, images of past and present washed in stinging cold. Lily’s face, white and lifeless, James bloodstained and pale, Sirius’ look of surprise as a fluttering veil swallowed him whole and then he was back in the Department of Mysteries and there was Tonks; sweet Merlin Tonks, battered, broken, fallen as she lay, limp as a rag doll at the foot of the great flight of risers…
I’m dead. We’re all dead. All dying, all falling, all dead…
I’m so cold. So very cold…
“Enervate.”
And then there was pain.
It flooded his body, a shocking fiery warmth that stung his flesh and seared his bones. His skin screamed, his blood roared and his head swam and swirled in a surging, boiling rush of dizzying confusion. He felt his eyelids flutter, caught a glimpse of light and shadow, shifting colours but he could not focus, could not think, could not find the energy to rouse himself as differing volumes of pain did battle within him. Vaguely, distantly, he became aware of his body, his human body and for a moment the fact confused him “ was I this way before? There was fur, there were teeth, but they’ve gone, all gone “ but the agony in his body and the chill in his mind clamped down once more and conscious thought once again became impossible.
But then, the fire receded. A voice again, the same voice that had brought the fire, now moved to cast it away, muttering spells and incantations over his prone form. He felt the pain lessen, the stings dull, the aches dim as awareness once more began to touch him. Yes, it had been the full moon, he had been wolf but now once more he was human, the moon apparently faded, his transformation passed in the cold darkness of unconsciousness. But he was tired, so tired and terribly weak, his post-change exhaustion undimmed by his lack of awareness of its passing and he could still feel the throb of limbs, the legacy of his fall “ yes, he’d fallen! “ his tumble and his crash landing with Dolph. And then… And then…
Peter.
His eyes snapped open.
Leaning over him, his features hagged and washed out, Peter Pettigrew gave a wan and shaken smile.
“Hello Remus,” he said softly. “Welcome back.”
“Peter.” The name emerged as a rasp. Remus tried to rise, to pull himself at least a little from the ground, but his body, damaged by the fall and sapped of all energy by his change from wolf to man, would allow only a painful jerk. As he gasped in sudden pain, he felt Peter’s hands, one warm, one metallically cold, grasp his shoulders and then gently he was lifted, propped up in a sitting position with his back against the wall, the dark robe in which he had barely noticed he’d been wrapped, pulled carefully around him. Even as he stared at Peter, half a question written in his narrowed eyes, the other man smiled uncertainly once more and gave the slightest shrug.
“I know the state you get in after a bad change,” he offered, his tone a strange combination of geniality and nervousness that sounded almost breathless against the chilly air. His human hand was shaking noticeably, his eyes darting distractedly back and fro between Remus and the wall behind. “It’d be mid morning before you were sitting up on your own again… and then only if Pomfrey wasn’t looking.”
Waking in the Shrieking Shack, surrounded by blood, his three friends’ pale faces as they stared down at his battered form cloistered in the Hospital Wing, the fear and repulsion barely suppressed within their eyes…
The cold surged. No, enough!
Dementors. There were Dementors nearby. The cold, the chilling memories “ now it all made sense. Remus felt himself sigh deeply. As if he didn’t have enough to worry about…
Shaking his head to clear it, Remus forced his blurry eyes to focus on his surroundings. A thin room “ no, a corridor “ emerged from the fog around him, its narrow grey walls so indicatively featureless that he was left in no doubt that he was still within the Institute. And he and Peter were not alone there “ just to his right, in front of a heavy door, a man in Death Eater robes lay curled in a foetal position, his arms wrapped around his head, his fingers digging so sharply against his scalp that blood trickled through his hair and dripped to the floor beneath him. He rocked, slowly, back and forth, whimpering and sobbing noises just audible from beneath the shroud of robes that covered his face, apparently oblivious to everyone and everything but the horrors within his own mind.
Beyond him, also wrapped in a dark robe, his leg clearly broken, his face bloodstained and deathly pale, lay Dolph. He did not move at all.
Dolph the werewolf lying broken and bloody beneath him and then whole once more, standing snarling in the corridor… And then it was Hogwarts, and the lupine form of Abraham Kane charged at him with teeth stretched wide…
Peter had followed his gaze. “I could wake him, you know,” he remarked with a jerky sweep of his silver hand that swept away Remus’ distraction, his voice maintaining the high-pitched, oddly breathless tone that seemed to race and tumble from his lips almost uncontrollably. “But I like him better quiet.” He giggled humourlessly. “Besides,” he added, his voice suddenly quieter, his features twitching, his fingers jerking, his eyes rich with shadows. “I kind of wanted to talk to you. Alone.”
Remus stared at him. His head was still hazy, gripped with chill shivers, his body a wreck of hurt and exhaustion but his mind, stirring now into a fuller alertness, was whirling with a tumultuous hurricane of thoughts. The moon had set. The Institute was open. Where was Tonks? She had raced after Peter but here was Peter, free and whole “ had she fallen somewhere, lifeless and broken, just as he’d always feared? And Harry, Ron, Hermione “ where were they? Who held sway in the Institute now “ the Order or the Death Eaters? What had became of the Residents? Were they even now being lined up, waiting to be Kissed?
And then, there was Peter.
His old friend. The traitor.
There was little trace left now of the boy he had once known. A hint of pudginess, the odd gesture and expression perhaps “ but mostly, what he saw was unfamiliar. Colourless, receding hair, small eyes set within a wasted face “ time, betrayal and twelve years in the form of a rat had not been kind to Peter Pettigrew. And not only his body was ravaged; there was a haunting desperation in his darting eyes that sickened Remus to the bone, a hunted, frantic edge touched by the barest hint of a young man who remembered what it was to be a Gryffindor.
That was the part that seemed to stare out at Remus Lupin now.
For a moment, he felt a wrench of pity. Oh Peter, what have you done to yourself? And why did you do it?
But done it he had. There was no going back.
James and Lily’s funeral. Sirius’ face laughing manically from the front of the Daily Prophet…
Slowly, he raised his head. “I don’t think there’s much you can say that I want to hear,” he managed hoarsely. “I don’t want to talk to you, Peter.” He allowed himself a brief, ironic smile. “If I had the strength to move, I would be gone already.”
A flicker of emotion flashed across Peter’s features, there and then gone before it could be accurately read. “Your other friends are outside,” he declared suddenly. “Right outside the door, just there. You’ll want to hear that, I bet.” He gave a hiccup-like laugh. “You’d hear them if I hadn’t silenced the door.” His fingers jerked uncomfortably once more. “I… I had to, really. Old Moody kept saying he’d skin me alive, can you believe that? And that other one, that Tonks girl… she was hardly flattering either…”
Tonks was alive. The relief that rushed through him was indescribable, tumbling away the chilling images of her dead form that the cold had sketched within his mind. Tonks was all right. The Order held the Institute. And they were right outside the door…
“I stopped them though.” Peter’s tone was almost conversational as he settled down unsteadily on his knees at Remus’ side, his wand twitching in the silver fingers of his artificial hand. “They went all quiet when I said I’d kill you if they tried to come in.” His eyes darted towards the door once more; it seemed to Remus that his former friend was almost afraid to meet his eyes. “But don’t worry… I don’t think I’ll do that, not really. Not unless they make me.”
“How reassuring.” Remus drawled dryly, but Peter barely seemed to register his words.
“No, no, I won’t kill you for that,” he continued, his words tripping over each other as they spilled from his tongue. “But if they try to come in, I will let the Dementors out.” His head jerked towards the sturdy door by which the Death Eater rocked and sobbed in a pathetic heap; as his gaze returned, Remus realised that his old friend’s eyes were haunted by the frosted touch of the same chill cold that plagued his mind. “And I don’t want to do that. None of us want me to. So they’ll stay out. They have to stay out. They have to…”
His voice trailed away. A shudder seemed to pass through the length of his body as his gaze drifted off into space.
What must he be seeing? James and Lily lying dead? A street full of massacred Muggles? Or does he see the fall of Voldemort and feel nothing for his former friends?
Peter, who are you?
“Why?” The single word had passed his lips before he was even aware he had spoken out loud. “Why, Peter? Why are you doing this? Why did you betray us all? And why did you help the most evil wizard in existence to rise again?”
Peter’s expression seemed to ripple and flex, twisting between wretched torture and an odd kind of weariness. His eyes dropped to the floor.
“You-Know-Who,” he whispered softly. “I went back to him… I helped him…because… because…” His features flickered almost sadly. “Well what did I have left to lose? And there was so much to gain, so much....”
Remus fought down a wave of repulsion. “I think you know that’s not true. On either count.”
For an instant, Peter’s eyes seemed to flash with more life that Remus had registered thus far. “Well then, Remus, if you’re so clever, you tell me, what should I have done?” he snapped suddenly. “You and Sirius, you…you… you tried to murder me! And if I’d shown myself to anyone else, anyone else at all… it would have been suicide! I’d have been killed or sent to Azkaban! You-Know-Who, he was the only person left I could go to! You left me no choice!” His voice started to shake once more as his eyes rolled. “I was so sure… so sure he would reward my loyalty…”
“But he didn’t.” Remus’ voice was soft but pointed, cutting the air like a blade. “You’re no better off than you ever were. And for that, you’ve doomed the rest of us.”
Peter’s chin was quivering, his eyes riddled with a thousand emotions that seemed to do war within him. “I couldn’t go to Azkaban.” His voice was almost a plea. “I couldn’t, Remus.”
The sheer hypocrisy of this statement was staggering.
“You sent Sirius there without much difficulty.” It was all Remus could do to keep his voice from shaking “ as it was, his tone was as cold as the Dementors chill. “You betrayed the Order, killed twelve innocent people and you let him take the blame. If you’re looking for sympathy…”
“He deserved it!” The words lashed out almost instinctively, but somehow they lacked weight, rotting logs hurled in to hold a protective barricade already close to crumbling. “He deserved it, he deserved to go…”
Remus’ expression hardened as he fought to straighten his weakened body from its slump against the wall. “Nobody deserves that. Especially not an innocent man.” His voice dropped to almost a whisper. “Especially not your friend.”
Peter’s features contorted “ his flesh and blood hand clenched so sharply that Remus was surprised he did not tear the skin. His eyes seemed to flicker back and forth, searching for some unseen truth lost just beyond his view. His chin trembled.
“You can’t understand.” His voice was soft, distant “ it almost seemed that he was speaking to someone far away and half forgotten. “How could you? They liked you.”
Remus tried to shake his head. “Peter…”
“No, no, no, no….” Peter’s voice was shaking now, crumpling beneath the weight of old memories, as he jabbed a finger into the air to emphasise his words. “You know and I know - James and Sirius, they were friends. And then there was you, you were the challenge and they liked a challenge, didn’t they, Remus? We all knew there was some big secret you had and that made you interesting, it made you worth their time… And when they found out you were a werewolf…” He gave another humourless little chuckle. “You were exciting, weren’t you? You were their adventure. Brave Remus who’d suffered so much “ they respected you. But me…” His flash of a smile was rapid but profoundly bitter. “I was just the tag-along, that fat little boy they oh-so-very-graciously allowed to hang out with them.” His wobbling jaw hardened. “They barely knew I was there. And when they did, they didn’t even care enough to give a damn.”
Although Remus was sure that this had not been the case, there was an uncomfortable ring of plausibility behind Peter’s words... James laughing as he hung Severus Snape upside down in Fifth Year, Sirius telling his secret to Snape in a fit of pique, both boys laughing as they hexed this or that innocent victim or mocked Peter’s often dire efforts in Transfiguration or Charms... They had seemed like that sometimes, so arrogant, so full of themselves and superior, but they could be such wonderful friends when they wanted. And though he knew that perhaps he was guilty of editing their friendship in favour of the good, he could clearly see that Peter, in a haze of guilt, had done the same in favour of the bad.
Does he believe that? Can he believe that?
But Peter was not finished. “I know you saw it too, Remus, I know you did, you noticed everything! I was nothing to them, less, less than nothing! I was there to be…to be laughed at, to cheer them on… and if they didn’t want that, I was someone spare to tease when they were bored. They called themselves my friends but they never respected me, not really. It was stupid Peter this or useless Peter that “ Sirius, come see what a mess Wormtail’s made of his tortoise or James, better stop playing with the snitch before Wormtail wets himself!” He took a deep, almost frantic breath as his voice dropped low once more. “And you, Remus… You were the only one who treated me nicely and that was out of pity.”
Remus tried once more to shake his head. “Peter…”
“See? You don’t deny it.” Peter did not even give him a chance to speak. “You can’t deny it. It’s true.”
“And even if it is.” Remus tried to ignore the throb of his arms as he pushed himself a little further up the wall. “Is it any different now?” He flicked his eyes in the direction of Dolph, who now showed faint signs of stirring. “I saw you two together earlier; he treated you with outright contempt. You gave Voldemort his body back but yet he gives you nothing in return but ignominy and insults.” He lifted his chin, trying to ignore the surge of pain that echoed through his neck and shoulders. “Perhaps James and Sirius were insensitive. But they were just boys and respect or not, in their way they still loved you.” He met Peter’s eyes with calm fortitude. “But can schoolboy teasing really justify death and imprisonment? Can you tell me that poking a little fun at a friend is a reason to betray them to the most evil wizard alive? Tell me honestly, Peter. What has Voldemort ever done for you apart from sparing your life?”
Peter’s eyes flickered to his silver hand. For a moment, there was no response but silence.
“He gave me this.” Silver fingers flexed. “I helped him and he made me stronger.”
Remus sighed softly. “He maimed you for his own purposes and then tossed you a shiny bone to keep you servile. That’s not respect. It’s condescension.”
Peter gave a childish snort. “Because James and Sirius were never condescending, oh no, not at all…”
“You know that was different…”
“They didn’t respect me.” His voice was a harsh whisper, his eyes firmly yanked away. “They drove me to it, drove me to him. I had no choice.”
“There’s always a choice.” Remus’ voice was sad as he stared at the struggling wreck that he had once called his friend. “It may not be a good choice, but it’s always there. You can’t cite our time at Hogwarts and blame them for what you chose to do. Everyone knows that children can be cruel, even to those they care about…”
“You weren’t.” Peter’s voice continued to shudder and shiver, a verbal reflection of the cold of remembrance biting within. “And… and I appreciated it. That’s why I didn’t kill you when I found you.” He leaned forwards suddenly, his nose twitching, his eyes intense as he stared down at his weakened prisoner. “I… I knew I had to talk to you,” he exclaimed, his voice high and jerky once more, his gestures odd and erratic. “There was no chance before in the Shrieking Shack, not with Sirius there, showing off and shouting the odds; he never gave me a chance! But you…” His eyes gleamed desperately. “You, Remus… you used to listen to me. You can still listen. You have listened. And you won’t say it, but I think you understand.”
Something had snapped. That much was clear “ in Peter Pettigrew’s mind, a decision had been made, probably irrational, possibly foolish but frantically, desperately irrevocable all the same. There was some reason behind his arguments. He wanted something from him…
“No.” The denial was firm. “I can never understand what you did.”
“You’re lying.” Peter’s breathing was increasing in speed, his words tumbling once more. “You do understand. You can understand. And you can make them understand too.”
His silver hand flashed towards the door. And then Remus saw it.
Dear Gods. He wants me to get him out alive.
That had to be it. Peter knew he had no escape, just as before, no route that did not lead to death or to Azkaban. Unless, of course, he could find an advocate, someone who could defend his actions, see his punishment reduced…
It seemed he had chosen Remus.
But how could he ever think that I’d…
Dementors. The memories. He wasn’t rational. That much was clear.
He could have played the game, he supposed, pretended to believe, led Peter mindlessly into a trap. But in spite of all he’d done, this man had been his friend once. Somehow it didn’t seem right.
“No, Peter.” His words were gentle but firm as steel. “I can’t do that. I won’t.”
“But you can, you see, you will, you must…”
He sounded so desperate, so utterly desolate and yes, he had been right “ Remus did pity him. But pity was not nearly enough.
“Peter, stop.” His voice was almost kind. “You know I’ll never help you. Why are you doing this to yourself?”
Peter’s eyes glinted in the dull light. “I don’t want help.” He seemed to expel the words almost absently, gazing off into the shadows as though suddenly unaware of any presence but his own. “I just want someone to see. Someone to understand…” He tried to laugh again but this time failed, descending into a painful hiccupping choke instead. “I’m not a bad person.” He spoke now almost to himself. “Not bad, not evil. But it was all so… They didn’t really care… I meant nothing… And I was so afraid when the Death Eaters came… James, Lily, Sirius, the Order, all doomed, so doomed, and it would be over so much quicker for everyone… It didn’t seem worth my life to protect a lost cause…” His eyes suddenly snapped up to Remus’ once more, incomprehensible, almost mad. “You have to see, I just… had no choice…”
And then, in a blinding flash, Remus saw the truth.
Peter knew. He knew that his betrayal had far outstripped any remote justification gleamed from perceived wrongs at school, he knew that he had ruined the lives of the only people outside of his mother who had ever really cared for him and he knew, oh he knew too well that he had probably doomed the wizarding world to lie beneath Voldemort’s ruthless thumb forever. He didn’t even care about his own fate anymore.
He simply wanted peace.
But since he could not find a way from within himself to justify what he had done, he needed absolution from without.
From his last remaining friend. From Remus.
“You want me to forgive you,” he whispered in disbelief.
Peter said nothing. But his eyes contained all the answer Remus needed.
Oh Merlin.
“I can’t do that,” he simply said.
Remus saw Peter’s eyes flicker with a hint of pain. Had he thought pity would be enough? Had he thought that kindly Remus might give the condemned man what he needed before he was sentenced to his doom?
Oh Peter. You don’t know me any more than I know you.
“I’m sorry, Peter.” Though his words were soft, they pierced the air like a dagger strike. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t absolve you of your guilt. No one can. What you have done, to James, to Lily, to Sirius, to Harry and to the wizarding world, is unforgivable. Nothing and no one can wipe that away. And I wouldn’t if I could.”
It was as though he had delivered a physical blow. Peter lurched back, jerking to his feet as he staggered away from Remus, his wand, still grasped within his silver hand, shaking as he extended it towards his former friend’s prone form.
“That’s not true!” he shrieked shrilly, his features contorting with a mixture of fury, disappointment and pain. “You can do it! You can forgive me! Forgive me!”
Remus met his gaze squarely. “It would be a lie.”
“I’ll kill you!”
Of that Remus had no doubt but somehow, faced with the choice of betraying his friends memories to soothe the conscience of their de-facto murderer, it didn’t seem to matter.
“Go ahead,” he said softly. “But it won’t help you.”
Desperate insanity was rife in his eyes. “This is your last chance. Forgive me.”
But Remus only shook his head. “No.”
Peter’s features twisted. His eyes burned as he increased his grip on his wand.
“Then I’m sorry,” he whispered intensely. “You’ve left me no choice. Avada…”
And then the door exploded inwards and all Hell broke loose.
* * *
It was as though she had stepped into a nightmare.
Even as Tonks coughed and spluttered, frantically and near-blindly wading through the heavy wall of dust that had risen in the wake of Moody’s explosive detonation of the door’s protective charms, she heard Kingsley’s voice bellowing orders, heard a high pitched furious shriek that she could only assume was Pettigrew, felt the deeper icy chill that slapped against her face from the suddenly freed air. Wand grasped firmly, she stumbled and staggered through the wreckage at Harry’s side as they burst into the chaos of the corridor, her eyes hazily registering three slumped figures and the shrunken outline of the rat in human form himself, his wand shaking in a silver hand as he screamed out a frantic spell.
And then, hoarse, raw and desperate, she heard Remus bellow in return.
“Peter, no!”
Remus!
The world seemed to slip into slow motion. She could see him now, slumped against the wall to the right perhaps ten yards in front of them, wrapped in a ragged Death Eater robe, his pale skin a contrast to the streaks of blood that tainted it, his limbs jerking frantically as he struggled to find the strength to lift himself into action. She could see his eyes, wide with horror as they fixed upon the man in front of him, who stood shuddering with his wand raised and his wasted features maddened.
The spell flashed forwards.
But it did not strike Remus. It hit instead the door by which he lay.
It burst open. And the cold that swamped the corridor was glacial.
Dementors. Pettigrew’s freed the Dementors!
A single, long fingered, slimy hand curled its way around the doorframe. A hooded shape, then two, then three loomed as the last of the lights flickered and died into nothingness.
And then everything flashed to a blur.
Bellatrix cackling gleefully as she hurled spell after spell at her struggling niece….
Against the flare of Lumos that burst almost instinctively from Ron Weasley’s wand, she caught a glimpse of Kingsley staggering backwards, his eyes wide as he thrust his wand out before him, but Harry was the first to react, his face set and determined as he hurled himself to the fore and screamed out “Expecto Patronum! ” A white stag erupted from his wand tip, galloping forwards furiously “ with yet another shriek, Pettigrew almost seemed to melt away, shrinking, sprouting fur and then with a flick of his tail, tiny legs skittered as he fled the antlered, glowing apparition that charged into the chilling hordes.
Remus’ pale face and hollow eyes as he broke the news of her cousin’s death at her Hospital bed in St Mungo’s…
The stag had done its work well and a moment later it did not ride alone as first a little otter and then Moody’s grizzly bear and Kingsley’s snowy leopard leapt into the fray. The Dementor ranks began to falter “ some shrank back almost fearfully into the chamber of their confinement, others retreating down the passageway as they rasped their resentment against their own cold air.
Remus lying in a Hogsmeade alley, unconscious in a pool of his own blood…
And then, a man’s voice screamed in utter terror.
She had not realised that one of the three slumped figures was Dolph. But now it was clear, oh too clear as she saw him lifted, one leg, clearly broken and dangling as the other flailed, his face grasped ruthlessly in the vice-like grip of two vile and slimy hands. His fingers scratched and scrabbled against his captor’s grasp in desperate search of release, his eyes wide with horror as the very fate he had intended for his fellow residents was visited instead upon him.
Tonks rapidly raised her wand, struggling to find a happy thought to hurl with sufficient force to drive the soul sucker back. But the Dementor’s hood had already been lowered. She was too late.
Dolph’s scream descended into a hideous gurgle as the Dementor’s foul mouth clamped over his and drank away his soul.
Death Eaters all around her, a swirling horde in shadows and black; pain, such pain as a cutting spell slashed through her skin and sent her tumbling backwards…
Dolph dropped like a stone, his body convulsing as the Dementor released him and stepped away. It was alone now, its brethren pushed back into retreat by the power of the Patronus onslaught of her companions but somehow it seemed uncaring, unbowed, regarding Kingsley’s approaching leopard with, if such a thing were possible in an eyeless mask of a face, something akin to disdain. Its visionless gaze seemed to sweep across them all, drinking in the determination of Harry, the fear of Ron and Hermione, the fortitude of Mad-Eye and Kingsley and Tonks’ own stubborn fury as though to dismiss them all as puny one by one.
Its gaze felt like the burn of arctic ice and raging fire all in one, sending terrible shivers and the urge to fight, to kill, to destroy all as one. And in an instant, Tonks was sure.
The Feral Dementor. It has to be.
But there was no time to ponder it. For then it settled its eyeless stare on Remus.
No! Merlin, no!
He had not moved, though not through lack of trying; he lay slumped on the ground as he gasped with the effort of his exertions, shattered in the wake of his transformation and apparent injury, exhausted, bleeding, unable to move. His eyes met hers with almost plaintive desperation.
He was vulnerable. Too vulnerable.
And far too far away.
He knew it. They both did.
She saw his lips move. They whispered I love you. They whispered I’m sorry.
And his eyes whispered goodbye.
Her heart seemed to tear in two. No! Remus, no! Don’t leave me!
But Remus had not, could not have heard her. And what could he have done if he had?
Hands extended, the Dementor swooped forwards. Grey fingers closed across Remus’ face as it plucked him helpless and struggling weakly from the floor. Its mouth gaped wide.
She heard Harry yelling furiously, saw his stag Patronus wheel and charge. She saw Kingsley hurl himself forwards with Mad-Eye at his heels. She heard Ron cry out as Hermione screamed in horror.
But it was too slow. Too late.
They would never make it.
Remus, his features filled with quiet horror, sitting aboard the Muggle steam train as he told of Kissed Kane and the Imperius curse and what it could mean, an army of feral werewolves under You-Know-Who’s control…
The Imperius Curse. On a werewolf. Suppressing the human, rousing the wolf within…
It would hurt her. Maybe even kill her.
But if it saved his soul, she didn’t care.
Remus. I love you too.
“Imperio!”
Far behind her, she heard Rebekah’s cry of shock, for she was perhaps the only person who truly knew what the young Auror had just done. Tonks saw her spell fly out, saw it strike, saw Remus gasp against a closing maw and arch his back, his fingers clenched like claws as a terrible jerk wrenched through him. For an instant, as his eyes flashed wide, she caught a glimpse of gold.
But then she saw no more. Awesome, invisible and inescapable, the force of the wolf mind’s backlash slammed into her body and flung her away into darkness.
Imperius by Pallas
Chapter Notes: I had incredible trouble writing the scene between Peter and Remus in this chapter - I just couldn't get Peter's voice right so if it seems a bit uneven, I apologise. As for the culmination of this chapter; it is the original idea I had for this fic around which all else was built and was planned and plotted out before anything else - although ironically with Felisha instead of Tonks since that was the original plan. But as HBP changed canon, I changed my ship intent for this fic and the two women were necessarily swapped.
And now, knowing what's coming, if you'll excuse me... *boards a heavily fortified rocket ship and heads off for her scret bunker on Neptune...*