Getting Lost in the Crossfire
By EmptyWord
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic Press, Allen & Unwin, Raincoast Books, and others I may have missed.
Warning: I think I might have completely butchered Remus' character. Actually, you know, I might have butchered the entire thing. And there's a teeny bit of possible slash in here.
There was a knock at the half-open door and someone called his name softly.
"Remus."
He looked up with an expression of courteous interest, and promptly froze. Was this Severus Snape, infamous bat of the dungeons, standing at his doorway and calling him by his first name? And why was the man dressed in a Muggle suit of all things? He couldn't help it; he gaped.
"Close your mouth," snapped Snape. "Air it out later, when I don't have to put up with the stench."
There's the Severus I know and do not love – not even platonically, Remus thought dryly, relieved. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Severus?" he asked politely.
Snape's lip curled, as if to show just what he thought of the "pleasure," but he managed to say with only the usual dose of venom, "We are having dinner."
Remus's jaw threatened to fall again. It was certainly not everyday he was asked out on a date! And Severus Snape of all people! Yet, now that he considered it, the idea wasn't so unpalatable. Smiling gently, he said, "Usually, Severus, the offer takes the form of a question."
The man's eyes narrowed into slits, lending him the appearance of a very ugly lizard. Silkily, he said, "Offer? You may starve, if you so wish." With that, he spun a perfect two hundred and seventy degrees and swept down the hallway.
"Wait!" He leapt to his feet, knocking over his chair and groaning slightly. What he wouldn't give for Snape's graceful limbs – free of any and all Dark Marks, of course, and maybe a little more fleshed out than they were. After righting his seat, he flung out of the room and gave chase. "Severus, wait!"
Catching up with the black-clothed figure whose tailored coat tails billowed in much the same fashion as robes, he said a tad reproachfully, "You never told me where."
Snape stopped mid-stride and regarded him as he would a particularly nasty and uncooperative potion. "Pray tell, Lupin, where have you been taking meals for the past year? Has romping around during the full moon so addled your senses?"
Remus thought the Great Hall was an odd choice for a private dinner. But then, he supposed romance wasn't one of Snape's talents. He indicated Snape's outfit. "But why the Muggle clothing?"
Snape twitched. "Another of Albus's senile ideas."
Albus? I knew he was a father-figure to him, but dictating his code of dress for something so personal? "I hadn't realized you were so close," said Remus, when a thought occurred to him. "Should I wear the same?"
Snape resumed his billowing. "Wear whatever you wish. And the Headmaster and I are not close." This last was said with a distasteful wrinkle of the nose, a delicate mole-like appearance sliding on top of the lizard-like eyes. "Unfortunately, however, he seems to think the position of employer entitles him to meddle with every last detail of our lives."
"And yet we let him," Remus smiled. He thought he heard Snape mutter, "Out of the kindness of our souls," but decided he suffered from an excess of earwax; he wasn't sure Snape knew what a soul was. He continued, "But it isn't just Albus, Severus. You're rarely friendly with anyone."
"Not 'rarely.' Never," Snape corrected.
Amused, Remus said gamely, "Not even on a date, eh?"
"I beg your pardon," said Snape coldly, not sparing a glance for him.
"Well, it wouldn't hurt to try a few pleasant words tonight, you know."
"And why, Lupin, should I waste my time with such an attempt?" came the scathing reply.
"It was you who asked me after all – demanded, rather," he amended with a smile.
"What are you babbling – " And then realization hit, and Snape reeled at the implication.
Preposterous.
Severus Snape did not have feelings, not of the romantic sort, and definitely not for Remus Lupin. In fact, he didn't have feelings at all. "Lupin," he said slowly, "We – in other words, all of Hogwarts – are having dinner in the Great Hall." He added balefully, "I do not like you. Not in a romantic way and not in any way at all."
Mouth slackened with surprise, Remus was aware of a crushing embarrassment. "Ouch, Severus," he muttered, deflating. He had deluded himself into thinking, for the length of the hallway, that the bat-turned-lizard-turned-mole and the werewolf could have a happily-ever-after, at least for one meal. Clearly, he needed to grow up.
Snape was silent, but he did not leave. He was battling that strange twinge of what Albus told him was "conscience" but what he liked to call "Gryffindor weakness." He wished the stupid werewolf would wipe the miserable expression from his face so he could billow on with his life. Thankfully, Remus was very empathetic and obliged almost immediately.
"I apologize for the misunderstanding," Remus managed to say calmly, but then he suddenly remembered something. "It is just, well, you used my first name."
That stopped Snape in his tracks. He had, hadn't he? It was most unusual, and the Slytherin in him was very displeased. "Rest assured, I will not make the same mistake."
"No, Severus." His hand flashed out and gripped Snape's arm, preventing escape. "You made the mistake. You owe me." He smiled serenely at Snape's glare. Oh, even Gryffindors know how to capitalize on Slytherin mistakes.
Snape disliked very much being in debt to other people. Ever since that disastrous incident in sixth year, he had been chained to James' every whim. Carefully, he said, "What exactly do I owe you?"
"Follow up on your offer," said Remus. "Treat me to dinner tonight – in the Great Hall, of course."
Snape stiffened with dismay but reluctantly held out a crooked arm in a very gentlemanly gesture. "Very well," he bit out, long-suffering lining his voice. If he wasn't allowed to make his displeasure known through his actions, his voice had always sufficed before.
The problem with Gryffindors, thought Snape, is that they're too simple-minded and jump to conclusions.
The problem with Slytherins, thought Remus, is that they over think everything but still have feelings.
When the two men had turned the corner, Colin Creevey emerged from behind a stone statue, face ashen and hands wrapped around a camera. He had just obtained the most disturbing – and most effective – blackmail Hogwarts had ever seen. Well, he thought philosophically, he could expect an O.W.L. from at least two classes.
A/N: The disastrous incident in sixth year that Snape refers to is James saving him from being ravaged by Remus the werewolf. The life-debt he incurred does not necessarily mean he had to obey James' "every whim"; Snape would hate being beholden to another person (nevermind it being his rival) and would consider the debt more seriously than most people, thus the exaggeration.
Um, yes, this one-shot was a pathetic attempt at humor. I'm aware I've likely failed, but all the same, dish out the critiques! Thanks for reading!
May 25, 2007