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He'd been sitting in the chair across from Dumbledore for nearly fifteen minutes now, without saying a word. He had just apparated into the house, approached the chair, sat down and that was it. His elbow was digging hard into the table and his chin rested in his hand, his palm covering his mouth as his fingers rapped on his cheek. James didn't want to do this, because if he admitted to himself that there was indeed a traitor amongst their midst, it was the end of the world as he knew it.

How? Who? Maybe it was an accident, people made mistakes. Information that you didn't deem important could have been slipped into a conversation and been overheard! That didn't mean that someone was giving away their secrets. But it didn't help the growing anxiety everyone in the Order had. The death eaters were attacking them from left and right--the newest members had their names and identities found out not even a year after they'd joined. Children were being attacked, Ralph and Miranda had lost their baby because of his involvement with the Order, it...things weren't going to get better.

He and Lily have moved six times in the past two year because death eaters kept finding their location. Were they searching that hard for them, or was someone slipping them information? Did someone that James trusted with his life and that of his family's actually give them up to Voldemort? Or was this just the bloody prophecy trying to make itself happen?

"James," Dumbledore finally said, and James finally looked up from the hole he had been glaring into the table. The headmaster looked weary. "I do not believe that you would risk putting your family in danger, but you must have your concerns."

"I trust them all with my life," James said immediately, looking back down. Did Dumbledore actually think he had names to give him? Someone whose actions were concerning him. "There is not one person in the Order that I don't trust, Professor, I can assure you that no one---"

"Someone is," Dumbledore interrupted. James felt his jaw clench and his mouth pressed into a thin line. They were silent again for a few minutes, and James' mind had almost drifted back into his dark reverie when Dumbledore broke it, "Mister. Lupin did not respond to his patronus."

The slow glare that lifted from James' eyes contained such venom that he was sure that the headmaster was going to keel over in his chair. Was he insinuating that Remus---That there was something to be concerned about with Remus, with Moony? After all that the Marauders had gone through, Dumbledore could believe, even for a second that Remus Lupin could betray them? Him? "I don't want to hear another word about Remus."

James felt guilty for only a second for spatting the demand at Dumbledore. His best friend's name should not be thrown into the discussion of a traitor. Remus was--he had been distant, but he had just lost his job, and with the pounding down on werewolves by the ministry it made sense that he----James' frown deepened his crossed arms tightened around his chest. What the hell was going on?