Prisoner's Dilemma
It was a Thursday when it appeared on the side of the street alongside the torn up curb that tripped anyone attempting to enter the shabby apartment building. Remus was on his way up the sidewalk when the chorus of humming flies caught his attention. They were collected near the side of the street above the gruesome sight. The tawny haired man swallowed a large lump in his throat before quickly averting his eyes to the spot a few feet to the left.
A raccoon, a possum, a groundhog—not a deer, too small for a deer. It had been discarded along with the cigarette butts, chewed gum, and of course, the ever present runaway plastic bag. The street cleaners wouldn't sweep past his building until at least 8 a.m., meaning he'd be stuck with the intrusive sight for another hour.
The man had been a morning person since his early years, preferring to sleep through the night on the weeks he was allowed each month. Waking up early always given him an advantage; in his school years he had the common room to himself to finish any assignments in silence before puffy faced housemates staggered down the steps. Now that he was a full grown 36 years, he was able to enjoy the early morning hours to walk through the city before businessman and women busied themselves on their way to their cheap metal desks, water coolers, and glowing monitors.
This morning was different, this morning he found that the red fury blob of mess of death was preventing him from continuing his scheduled walk. Remus supposed that death had always been presented so clean to him, topped off by pretty green lawns and gravestones with beautiful words. A stray animal that happened to make it into the heart of the city was different; the continual cracking of bones and drying of blood in the early morning sun were its only distinguished qualities. Road kill was the only solid reminder of death's gruesomeness to a society that swerved the mess so the stench didn't permeate their tires. Remus had been surrounded by friends who insisted to reflect on death as associated with angels, not stiffening bodies, or maggots and flies.
Passing away or going peacefully—were not the names that friends would tell him were associated with this death. It is road-kill. It was quite literal really, he mused, perhaps all death should be labeled as such. Sirius Black wasn't merely a "fallen hero", but rather been unforgivably thrown into oblivion.
"You can do better than that," had been the last words to leave Black's laughing features before the curse hit. All the images stirred in Remus's head, replaying over and over. Harry running to his godfather, but the only words he had had for the hysterical boy were not those of comfort. "There's nothing you can do." The words had become Remus's own epitaph he supposed, as he lived his solitaire life stuffed in his two room apartment.
Deciding against his walk this morning, the slender man retreated to his apartment, preferring to stare at his bland belongings that were indeed not blinding reminders of death. Perhaps he still distracted by the gruesome sight outside his window, that he was so startled when the visitor spoke,
"Am I interrupting something Lupin," said the dark haired man sitting precariously on Remus's bed making the tawny haired men jump up in shock from his creaking rocker.
"Severus! What a surprise," he stuttered forcing a smile to his hollow features.
"Doesn't take much, does it Lupin?" replied Snape, standing from his sitting position and pulling closer to Lupin.
"I suppose not---is there some reason you're here Severus?" he straightforwardly said while stepping back from the taller man.
"Just because the war is over and the Order has dispatched doesn't mean I'm going to discontinue my contribution of Wolfsbane. I know you prefer to live among these Muggles, and I can only imagine what might happen to their meager minds if they sighted a werewolf. Are you trying to get yourself in Azkaban?"
"Of course not--I'm no fool, I was merely going to purchase the potion from Diagon Alley." The truth was that he hadn't really thought about it. These last few weeks after the war, Remus had been so caught up in fixating on the bloody years preceding the new peace that he hadn't given the full moons advancement any thought.
"Ah, and you were planning on paying that hefty amount with what funds, your charming personality—or your fading good looks?" Severus asked lazily.
"Did you really come here mock my poverty Severus?" Remus hissed, " Have things really died down that much at Hogwarts now the student's lives aren't in constant peril, you find the need to get your kicks tossing my deficiencies in my face?" asked Remus grasping the back of a second hand chair for support.
"Lupin, you clearly are not yourself," said Severus to the shaken man with concern playing on his sharp features.
"Yes, and you always knew me so well Severus. You presume too much, just because of your prodigy-like understanding of potions, you always had the notion that you were far more intelligent than the rest of us—and that gave you some right to judge everyone you came into contact with. You presume you know me---just like you knew Sirus, or Harry. You fool, you were always blinded by your preconceptions of people to ever learn to like anyone—much more for anyone to like you" he said, eyes blazing, and knuckles now white around the back of the chair.
If Severus Snape had ever been caught off guard, it was in this moment when complacent, humble Remus Lupin spat out his cutting remarks with unmerited disregard. However, the only show of the potion master's unease was a subtle widening of his eyes before clearing his throat, and seemingly regaining his character.
"Yes of course, Black gave me plenty of reasons to befriend him," said Severus, now seemingly unaffected by the venomous comments of his companion.
"A schoolboy rivalry that you couldn't put aside to listen to reason and hear the story of an innocent man all those years ago in the Shrieking Shack—why if only you'd heard him out then—perhaps his name would have been cleared and--"
"And what? Black wouldn't have died? Are you really still hung up on his death? Is that it Lupin? Your own schoolboy crush on Sirius Black shines through to this day---a schoolboy crush that you can't put aside and listen to reason."
"And what reason is that?" Remus asked, eyes blazing.
"People care for you Lupin, as you so delicately put, people don't care for me, I never gave them a reason to, but they care for you. And now you're wasting away here in some decaying Muggle apartment---in what hopes Lupin—that you'll fall through the floor---perhaps going to your death in a similar fashion as your friend. Will this consolidate your guilt and obsession with his death? Will your debt be paid only in your own expiration?" Severus questioned.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Lupin said while choosing to sit down near the apartment's only window, casting his gaze disinterestedly outside.
"Lies and you know it; you're a smart man Remus, why are you tormenting yourself blindly," it perhaps was not the words being spoken that made Remus look up, but rather the softness they were spoken with," I know the death you've seen, I know what you've lived—and I know it's hard going back to the way you lived before the war, but the way you live now is a mere bad impression of your old life."
"My old life? You mean be degraded for who I am, you mean losing every person who ever cared for me. If that's the old life I should aspire to, then you'll have to forgive my reluctance to return to it," he said quietly, silently eyeing the gory mess that lay in the street below.
"Your self pity disgusts me. We've all lived through these horrifying times, and the world is going forward. People still care for you, The Weasleys, Harry, Hermione, Tonks, Minerva—just to name a few."
"Please, they have families of their own, colleagues, friends, why should their lives pivot on whether this graying washed up man returns to his old life, or lives at all?" Remus said, watching as a car swerved slightly to avoid hitting the decaying animal.
"More people care for you than them," said Severus silently but forcefully making Remus look up in surprise, "But dammit Lupin----have you really no pride, you always played it up so well that you were humble, but you must be going for some sort of prize. Be satisfied in your slums, be content trapped in your dark thoughts and degenerative appearance. I'm leaving your potion on the table; perhaps it will perpetuate your life for one more month."
Reaching into his robes he pulled out a bit of floo powder and cast it into the dwindling fire before calling out "Spinners End" without one last look at his companion. Just like that Severus Snape was gone, leaving only a steaming goblet as proof of his visit.
Remus stared at the steaming goblet briefly before becoming distracted the noise of the street cleaner outside. He absentmindedly watched from his third floor view as the road kill was swept up along with the other garbage. The remains were cleared, leaving a blank street in its place, fresh for the taxis and other cars to venture.
The goblet, probably worth more than the table it sat on, gleamed in the morning sun, among Remus's diminished possessions like a diamond in the rough. Now calm, and retrospective, Remus couldn't help but find the similarity between the goblet and it's owner. Replaying the conversation in his head, it became clear that Remus needed to immediately speak with Severus Snape. And in the light of the morning sun, Remus couldn't quell his own hope to uncover what Severus had meant when he'd say that more people cared for him than just his friends.
He grabbed his own handful of floo powder, and resolving to wipe aside his own bloody mess of reservations and despair, shouted "Spinner's End!"