Casting Moonshadows

79. Operation Recreate Goblin Battles

"He asked me to. What's your excuse?"

"I'm here for the view. He asked you to? That sounds a bit dodgy. Do you mind?" Remus looked pointedly at the wand that was still hovering worryingly close to parts of his body he was rather attached to.

Regulus flushed and backed away, muttering a quick lumos charm so the two of them were flooded, blinkingly, with light. "You're in no position to lecture anyone about 'dodgy'. Besides, if I wasn't here, I wouldn't have caught you."

Remus could no more have resisted his inner Marauder than he could resist his need for air. "Really? Well now that you've caught me... what are you going to do with me?"

It was all in the tone of voice and Regulus flushed a shade of scarlet that even Peter at his most embarrassed would have been proud of and took another couple of steps back. "Shut up!"

"Seriously, though, Regulus," Remus said, taking pity on the boy, "why on earth would you agree to spending an incredibly uncomfortable night kipping in Slughorn's reeking office on the off-chance that someone might break in?"

"Lots of us do it," Regulus muttered. "We take turns. It's good to keep in his good books. He knows people and he can really help out once you leave school."

Remus sighed. "I thought your Black name and family fortune would take care of that."

"There's only so much money can do, you know, Lupin. I wouldn't expect you to understand – you're a popular, pampered Gryffindor. You don't have to do anything to get ahead in this world."

There was something about the way he said it that made Remus pause. "Regulus? Is there something going on?"

"Oh, what do you care? Just sod off before I decide to report you." Regulus stalked over to Slughorn's desk chair and threw himself down into it.

"I do care," Remus said, pulling up the chair on the opposite side of the table. "And Sirius cares too, you know. If there's anything bothering you, you can just –"

"Shut up! Just shutupshutupshutup! Stop acting like you care. And you don't know anything about me and Sirius! You have no idea what I have to..." He broke off, breathing hard. The hand still grasping his glowing wand was white knuckled.

"What you 'have' to?" Remus leant forward, heart hammering. "Is someone making you do something you don't want to, Regulus?"

Regulus's breath hitched and he actually bared his teeth in a move that was rather alarmingly like Sirius at his most doggish. The fingers of his right hand unclenched spasmodically from around his wand—which fell, still glowing, into his lap—then shifted across to scratch at his left forearm, digging into his flesh through the fabric of his robe. Remus's eyes followed the movement and something in his mind clicked – a memory from something he had read in the Daily Prophet a few days ago: It is rumoured that the followers of He Who Must Not Be Named are marked with a brand on the left arm...

Without giving Regulus any warning, Remus launched himself wolf-quick across the table and dragged the left sleeve of his robe up. Regulus shrieked and struggled, fighting against him.

"Let me go, you freak! I swear to Merlin, Lupin, if you don't let me go –"

Remus let out a jagged breath, staring down at the skinny, pale arm in his grasp. It was free of Voldemort's mark, but what was there was almost worse. It was covered in scratches, gouges, scabs. It was as if Regulus had been trying to scrape the skin away from sinew and muscle with nails alone. From his inner wrist to the crook of his elbow, not an inch of skin was spared. The short, ragged nails of the hand that plucked uselessly at Remus's arm were tipped with dried blood.