A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. Prompts are below! :)

Word Count: 908

WARNINGS: Blood and injury

Notes: This is an AU where Voldemort failed at killing the Potters, and Remus is the secret keeper. I am going to make this a full-fledged story at some point (hopefully in the near future) under the same title.

Enjoy!

Spells were flying all around Remus, lighting up the night sky in a random assortment of colors that he couldn't help but find deadly. His breathing was shallow and shaky, but he pressed on, firing curses like there was no tomorrow.

If he wasn't careful, then there very well might not be one.

Remus' amber eyes surveyed his surroundings carefully, wary of every movement. He couldn't go on like this, he knew. He was twenty-three with grey hairs, for Merlin's sake, because this blasted war with Voldemort was never-ending.

It was lonely, too. Remus knew that a battlefield was the worst place to feel sorry for himself, but he couldn't help but miss James, Lily, and Harry—who were in hiding—and Sirius, who was leading the Death Eaters on a trip around Europe, masquerading as the Potters' Secret Keeper.

Remus was the Secret Keeper, but no one needed to know that.

He fired off another spell—a stunner; he never aimed to kill—and dodged a Killing Curse. Remus flattened himself against a nearby wall that had half-collapsed, stealing a moment to catch his breath and take a look at his injuries. He'd cut himself in many places, but he knew enough to know that there wasn't anything that needed immediate attention. Bruises covered his body, but it was the sharp pain in his chest that concerned Remus the most. That, he knew, could be potentially very dangerous.

"Lupin."

Remus' head snapped up, and he locked eyes with Rodolphus Lestrange. Fear, icy and piercing, flooded his veins. Despite that, he straightened his spine.

"Lestrange," he said coldly.

Black eyes peered at him closely. Remus felt very small in his tattered robes and bloody body, but did his best not to show it. He drew himself up to his full height, ignoring the pain in his chest. Rodolphus approached slowly, his wand level with Remus' throat. Remus brought his own up to point at the Death Eater's chest.

They were at a standstill, waiting to see who would strike first.

"The Order of the Phoenix has already lost the war," Rodolphus whispered, a small smile on his lips. "Why do you still continue to fight?"

Remus raised his chin stubbornly. "As long as there are people like you in the world, I will fight."

A cold laugh burst forth from Rodolphus. "Bravery will get you nowhere." He raised his wand, and Remus readied his.

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Stupefy!"

The men cast their curses at the same time, red and green jets of light shooting past each other like parallel lines. Remus stared at the incoming death and didn't try to move; he knew with the utmost certainty that it would be useless. This was the end. This is how he would die.

The jet of green light hit home.

Remus gasped as it barrelled into him, knocking him over… but then he opened his eyes. He was still on the battlefield, he was still in pain—in fact, the pain in his chest had intensified.

Remus sat up.

Rodolphus was staring at him in shock, his indifference gone as though a veil had been lifted. Both men, it seemed, were perfectly fine.

Remus lifted a hand to his head; it was beginning to ache. It came away bloody. He'd hit his head, he suddenly realized. He hadn't noticed through the shock and adrenaline.

Not to mention the euphoria. He was alive. He was actually alive, because dead people couldn't feel pain.

He lifted his head to see Rodolphus approaching him slowly. He crouched down beside Remus. "Your stunner hit me," he murmured, barely audible over the sounds of the battle. "And you should be dead."

It was true. He should be. But he wasn't.

And there was really only one explanation. He took one look at Lestrange and realized the other man must know, too. To be perfectly honest, Remus was surprised that the other man was even entertaining the thought of being soulmates with him.

"Lestrange. Lupin."

Remus looked to his right to find Severus Snape peering down at them. Now Remus was afraid. He knew that look on Snape; he knew. He knew, and he was going to do something completely drastic—

"Take him, Lestrange. I won't tell the master."

Rodolphus was on his feet in an instant, sneering at his colleague. All Remus could do was sit there, his thoughts in disarray. "At what price, Snape?"

Those black eyes that had so often looked upon Remus with hate were surprisingly devoid of ill-will. "None. I'll explain later. Leave now, before someone else sees you."

Remus' vision was blurring, but he still flinched away when Rodolphus' hesitant hands stretched towards him. The older man spoke uncharacteristically gently.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Lupin."

"And I'm—I'm not going anywhere with you," Remus gasped out. This was confusing and terrible, and he wasn't able to think straight right now. All he knew was that meeting your soulmate was supposed to be amazing—and this certainly wasn't.

Cold hands caught hold of Remus' arms. "You can't harm your soulmate," Rodolphus whispered as he lifted Remus to his feet, "and I couldn't kill you. You couldn't stun me. I'm getting you out of here whether you like it or not."

Then Snape was covering them as Rodolphus slung Remus' arm over his shoulder and Disapparated. The last thing Remus remembered before the blackness took him was Rodolphus laying him down on a bed, his expression grim.

A/N:

365. Words: 17. Veil

Insane House: 58. (character) Severus Snape

SF: Limbo: High - (character) Remus Lupin

NF: Waltzers: (title) To Have (But Never Hold)

EF: Gnome Throwing - (character) Rodolphus Lestrange