Life in an Alien Land 2: The Werewolf Chronicles

Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter.

This chapter was proofed by Jilliane, who fixes my run-on sentences, provides much needed moral support, and is still awaiting my entrance into Commafication Anonymous. Any remaining mistakes in the chapter are mine, all mine.

Chapter 16: Monster's Ball

I was, for the most part, left to my own devices once I was turned. Greyback returned me to the garret over the inn and I was solitary once again. I chafed at the loneliness of my existence, as I never would have before my Turning. I spent my mornings contemplating the street, hoping for some glimpse of Weasley red, hoping against hope to see Ginevra, to know she fared well. I rarely saw anyone but Molly scurrying about the street and even those sightings were fleeting. She had changed since her shaming in the square. I could not quite place the quality of the change, but she seemed, from my vantage, to be harder, less likely to accept her lot. I prayed to whatever gods were in this desolate corner of hell that she would learn to temper her anger. I repeated my vigils at night, but never saw any sign of Ginevra or the rest of her family. I despaired.

I received a new helper, Barrett, who had no skill in potions. Greyback, in his infinite wisdom, despite the boy's lack of learning and limited native intellect, had set him to guard me and help me as best he could with the potions needed for the newest push to the south and west towards London. He grumbled about the exigency of his duties, but settled into them. I could only surmise that I was placed in his care so that he might spy on me. Greyback was never anything but transparent.

The boy, it turned out, was rather garrulous. It was from him that I learnt that the siege was not going well. He informed me in his volubility that Lucius and Greyback had several very public discussions, wands drawn and hexes thrown. I wondered at the Dark Lord's lack of response to the infringement on non-ceded territory, but said nothing of it. The Dark Lord seemed to have less of a presence in our Colony and therefore less control. It did not seem like him to leave military matters to imbeciles and schemers. Greyback was known to act rather precipitously and Lucius was the embodiment of Slytherin values. When Barrett made the mistake of mentioning the Dark Lord derogatorily to me, I hushed him, discomfited by the treason he spoke in the presence of even a disgraced Death Eater. I set him to scrubbing cauldrons left from before my Turning and chided him in my best professorial manner. He complied to my command, but with the bad grace of an adolescent. I wondered at his age. He couldn't be more than nineteen, I thought. It seemed a shame that he had to pick up magic, catch as catch can. The boy's future might have been brighter if he had the benefit of a formalised education.

At another time, Barrett informed me that the London coven of vampires, headed by none other than Sanguini, were up in arms about werewolf incursion into their territory. Over the week, I had observed from my garret window several rather large deputations of lesser vampires entering Greyback's lair after dusk. I wondered if Greyback were intelligent enough to deal with beings that had lived, in some cases, since the dawn of human history. I feared their response. Vampires were notoriously slow to anger, but quick and brutal with their vengeance, and Sanguini reputed to be more so than the rest.

On one of my evening vigils, I saw several women brought to the square. They were fugitives, not werewolves, ill clothed and starving. I looked on them impassively until one woman lifted her ravaged features to the heavens as a light rain started. She carried a misshapen bundle, a child if I could tell how she cradled it against her. The woman looked vaguely familiar, but I could not place a name to her face. Greyback strode out of his den, and with a chop of his hand in the air, made a pronouncement. Several of the wolves guarding the women began stripping them of their possessions, dashing them to the ground scornfully. When one of the young wolves came to the familiar woman, she struggled, her small frame belying her strength as she fought to save the infant in her arms.

Greyback started toward her, metamorphosing his claw as he did, when an insubstantial figure situated himself between the werewolf and his prey. His dark blond hair glittered in the gloom of the torches. I knew him by reputation. Sanguini, who was a powerful wizard in his own right, intervened inexplicably on the woman’s behalf.

I had only seen Sanguini a few times, and those times were from a distance. The first and most memorable was when the Dark Lord tried unsuccessfully to garner the coven’s favour. Vampires in both Europe and Great Britain had refused to take part in the battles of wizards, deeming the fight beneath them. I suppose they had a point, given the span of their existence; not quite eternal, but close. I had attended the talks early on in my career as a Death Eater, and was left with a feeling of mild distaste for the creatures. I had later learnt to respect their forbearance even as they frustrated both of my puppet masters. Albus had just as assiduously courted the creatures, and they had just as stoically refused his offers. Vampires, while not hunted as enthusiastically as the werewolves had been by the Ministry, had also seen their share of death at the hands of the wizarding world.

Greyback paused, his shoulders tense, as the vampire took the child from the woman’s arms and placed it gently at her feet. With a look of desire, he drained her. I realised who she was only as she fell, her dark hair in disarray about her face. It was so like her sister’s, the Dark Lord’s concubine. Sanguini sidestepped the woman's corpse as Greyback paced back and forth. As Greyback raised his transformed paw to strike at the vampire, I saw Sanguini flick his fingers and freeze the wolf in place.

He circled Greyback slowly, disdain in every step he took. I assumed he was speaking to the Alpha from the contortions his face went through. Greyback struggled against whatever spell held him, his fury evident in the taut line of his shoulders and the grimace on his face. Sanguini stopped before Andromeda Tonks and the struggling bundle, looking down consideringly. He levitated the woman, and picked up the infant, and in the blink of the eye, they were gone in a swirl of mist.

In my third month as a werewolf, I was allowed to visit the brothel. It was the duty of all who were Turned, according to Barrett, and Greyback could not deny me the dubious pleasures or he would risk losing face with the Pack. Barrett informed me that there had been some outrage that I had not already made my genetic contribution to better the Colony. 'Even mated males had to make their donation, albeit in a less intimate manner than the unmated males

Barrett made his diffident announcement one Friday afternoon. "Greyback says you're to go to the brothel tonight."

I lifted my shoulders slightly in answer. I had no desire to make the visit. My allegiance lay with Ginevra, now and forever. Barrett fidgeted. "You may as well know, your girl's there. Greyback made her a Breeder once she was Turned. It's caused some problems too, I can tell you that."

I tried not to stiffen at his words. I tried not to hope that I might see her, but my heart soared and my wolf paced rapidly in anticipation of just such an event. Barrett dashed my expectations as he said, "The Alpha said you wasn't to be with her."

I nearly lost what thin control I had as I backed the boy against the wall, my teeth bared in some impossible grimace of dominance. The boy remained uncowed, resolute. "Sorry, 'bout that, Trai-- Snape. Greyback says no and we have to do what he says. He's Alpha."

"What if he weren't?" I asked, retreating a few steps, trying to regain some semblance of control over the howling beast in my breast. "What if someone could depose him? Would you follow that person just as blindly, and with just as much animal instinct?"

"I ain't no animal." Barrett's face bunched, his cheeks reddening. He shoved me in the centre of my chest. "And if I am what does that make you?"

I hunched my shoulders as if I had received a blow. What did it make me, with my mating, my new desire to socialise, and my wolfish desires? I shivered.

"Goose walk over your grave, Snape, or are you just realisin' what you said was dangerous?" Barrett crossed to the window, his back straight, and his head high. He gave a gusty sigh then said, "I don't know what I'd do if I was free. Prolly nothin' new. I been a werewolf for more than half my life. I know the lay of the land."

"And if it were different?" I asked, not understanding why I needed to know.

"It ain't different. As long as I can remember, Greyback's been around. He ain't gonna die no matter what anyone hopes." Barrett turned to me, his face contorted in some strong emotion, as I remained silent, considering. "I guess... I guess I would take family and leave. Go to New Zealand or someplace that ain't been touched by this war. Start over without a Pack or you... Recent Turned prats runnin' their mouths off about how superior they is cos they was turned late in life. Really, the way I see it, I'm better off than all of you wizards anyway. Least I know my place."

Barrett strode to the door, taking my silence as assent. "Get washed and dressed, you miserable bastard. I won't take stripes because you're a daft prick."

Barrett left and I undressed, my hands working mechanically over the tunic and trousers as I doffed them. I went to the water closet, now fitted with a solar water heater. I ran a bath, a small amount of warm water with the cool. Once finished with my ablutions, I shaved, remembering other times I had done the same with Ginevra in the next room singing in her out of key way, or with her perched on the tub watching me. I ached for tart her humour, needed the comfort of her body in this strange new world.

When I exited the bath, I donned the standard-issue cotton trousers and loose white tunic and then tied my hair back, the queue just slightly greasy to my touch. Once done, I waited for Barrett to return and let me out of my cage.

He entered a few moments later and fitted me with the leash, his manner stiff and formal as he escorted me to the brothel. It was situated in a modern monstrosity on the edge of the Colony's boundaries, near one of the major highways linking our small town with both London and Cambridge. I paused at the entrance, not knowing what to expect.

My brief foray into the flesh-dens of Knockturn Alley in my youth had left me with an impression of despair, fear and loneliness. I had never returned after my initial visit. Whores were to be pitied for the most part, brought to the situation where they must peddle their flesh by the exigencies of slavery, addiction, or lack of resources. Ginevra had been just such an unfortunate twice now, and I cursed myself and the fates that tortured us that I could do nothing to end her current enslavement.

Barrett gruffly pushed me into the building and bade me wait for him in the entryway. This was closed off from the rest of the building by a white wall on which was hung a large canvas painted with a very large, life-like lily. A group of werewolves entered, their looks of anticipation quelling at the sight of me. Most of them passed without even looking directly at me, but one of the older men in the group stopped before me.

He was in his mid thirties and I remembered treating his young mate for Dragon Pox. The girl, if she had not been a werewolf, would have been taught by me. She had been one of my few failures during that dark time and I had ached along with him at his howl of loss when the girl died. I had, of course, covered it with a sneer and a great deal of snarkiness to Ginevra afterwards. I may have given her my heart, but even to her, it was still difficult for me to show softer emotions.

The man looked as if he would speak, and then turned abruptly from me, but not before I saw the suspicious glitter of his eyes. We men are nothing if not stoic, raised to bear pain rather than share it.

Barrett returned with a secretive smile on his face, and took me through a sterile white room dotted with indecorously clad women. Several men stood against the wall awaiting their notice, as if this were some monstrous ball being held for them. I paused when I saw ginger hair, but the colour was wrong, too brassy, too much like the henna rinses Grandmother Snape used when I was a boy. Barrett made an impatient noise in his throat and I followed.

Once we passed the common area, he took me to a room which had once been a library, but was now cut up into cubicles. The walls of each space didn't quite reach the high ceiling, and the denuded bookshelves were still attached to the perimeter walls.

Barrett opened a door to one of the makeshift rooms and said, “Wait here."

The cubicle was small, with room only for a bed and a small table, presumably for clothing. I listened to the soft exhalations of the occupants of the cubicle next to me, becoming prickly with arousal at the woman's breathy sighs and the man's deeper grunts of pleasure. I could picture Ginevra in that room with another man grinding away on top of her, and both anger and despair flickered through me.

As I paced the few feet of small room, I could picture many ways of ending the life of the man who might be fucking my mate. I shook with rage and was sickened by it. What claim had I to her other than the few paltry sentiments I had declared to her? What allegiance did she have to me after I fomented the situation in which she found herself? Had I avoided Lucius' machinations or turned down Borowiec's offer of treason, Ginevra would have been as protected as I could have made her.

I have always been good at guilt. Self-flagellation of all types had become a skill with me as I waded through a lifetime of anguish over Lily and her inconstant friendship.

I was lost in my recriminations when the door opened. I stopped my pacing as a familiar voice reached my ears.

"Have you been waiting long?"

I turned to the voice; it was the black girl that had given me the note from Lucius so many months before. She was heavy with child, and as I gazed at her, she placed her hand protectively over her belly. I answered, my voice quavering, "My entire life."

"He said you'd say that." She smiled, a half-tilt of her full lips. "You're to come with me. Our friend wants to see you."

"Greyback will be aware of my absence." I countered, not sure if I was ready to face Malfoy yet. He could have saved Ginevra if he had wanted. The thought had been running through my head bitterly since I had condemned her, but I had not given voice to it, even within the confines of my head. I knew the statement was false. Lucius had little more control over the happenings in the Colony than I did. Greyback's insane push to London had confirmed that if nothing else had.

The girl laughed. "Greyback was given a new batch of boys today, courtesy of our friend. Our fearless leader is... occupied."

I followed her out of the room. She led me to a small room in the basement, handing me a bit of paper. "This will take you to him in a few moments. Don't discard it. It's keyed to here and will return you."

She left the room and I felt the familiar pull behind my navel and then the spinning turn of the Portkey. I stumbled as I landed.

Lucius greeted me diffidently, standing as I righted myself. "Severus."

I nodded, not sure that I could answer without a disgraceful show of emotion. Lucius took a seat, and waved me over to the divan. "Please, old friend, have a seat. We have much we need to discuss this evening, and little time."

I remained standing, my hands occupied with straightening my clothing so that I would not have them free to strangle Malfoy. Lucius sought my gaze and I looked away.

"You know if I could have prevented your infection, I would have," he said after moments of tense silence.

I laughed, the sound low and dark. "Would you have saved Ginevra?"

"The girl was an unfortunate casualty. I am sorry. I know you have some feeling for her." Lucius looked away his jaws knotting. After consideration he said, "I have a daughter, last month. Hermione... Miss Granger is well."

I snorted. "Well, things seemed to have worked out for you, Lucius. I am glad."

He looked at me as if I had given him a nasty stinging hex. "I suppose I deserve that."

I rolled my eyes. "Lucius please don't play the long suffering martyr. It doesn't suit you. What is it you want?"

"The Dark Lord wants you returned to him. He plans to have you executed along with the members of the Order that are at the Colony," Lucius bit out. "I have no choice but to give him what he wants."

I could not help myself, I laughed, the sound bitter. "So, when will you hand us over?"

"We have a month to come up with alternatives that won't get us all killed, and I need your help," Lucius answered evenly, the familiar look of hauteur settling over his features. "Who do you think would be a good leader for the Pack? Greyback must die. He's become a liability."