136) Lupin is in an abusive relationship because he doesn't think anyone else would want him. Snape finds out about it.
A/N: No beta, bad cold, and no internet. Tried to do my best. I lost track about halfway and realized I had 4 pages with
"muahahahahahahahahahaahahahahahaha…" I warned you.
A tawny-haired man, with streaks of silver through it, ducked into a nearby store. His pale skin shone in the darkness, almost luminescent. Severus Snape, elder by two years since the death of Sirius Black and resulting disappearance of Remus Lupin, didn't appear to notice as he entered the wet scene, clothed in darkness, complete with umbrella. He glanced around the dark, rain-drenched alley, tore his gaze away to glare at the misty rain clouds.
An English summer indeed, though it was but June.
The weather was drizzly, and wet, so everyone was under umbrellas, save the few crazy souls who didn't listen to their mothers and went out without one. Severus glanced about the street out of the corner of his black eyes, to any who might be familiar. He nodded to himself, satisfied, and nearly slipped on the wet cobblestones as another peal of thunder rent the air. He glared up at it from under his black cloaks and umbrella, and stepped aside as a drunk crashed to the ground next to him.
Drunkards. He quickly made his way to the apothecary, where the tawny-haired man had disappeared to. Severus glanced about the gloomy, dark alley one last time, and ducked inside, out of the pouring rain.
He could hear it pounding on the roof of the apothecary in the near-silence. It was dark, and muted inside, save for the sounds of the raucous wizards in the neighbourhood pub, who were presumably very drunk. Severus' hair was black as night, his pasty skin the only thing that could be seen in the dimness of the shop.
Severus pulled off his hood and folded his wet umbrella neatly, laying it on the inside of the door lightly. He pulled off his outer cloak and hung it on the coat rack provided, then made his dignified way inside, his pale face looming high as he looked about the shop for the owner.
He went to the counter and waited, next to the pale, slim man he had seen entering the shop from outside. The man was wet, and his tawny hair clung to his neck in tendrils, and over rainsoaked fabric on his shoulders. The man was shorter and thinner than Severus himself, the latter a feat, but it was neither his silver-streaked hair nor his form that made him recognizable to Severus. The fabric clinging to the man's bony shoulders had been sewed repeatedly, slashed and redone to stay together, though just barely. Severus had oft remarked on those particular clothes, and the style with which Remus Lupin sewed them back together.
He stared in fascination. He hadn't seen or heard of Remus Lupin since the werewolf had disappeared into Wizarding London two years ago, a day and a month after Sirius Black had died. Severus curled his lip in disgust, and wanted to turn away. But no, give the werewolf a little scare first, let him think he had been found, and would have to face what he left. Severus allowed himself a smirk, his eyes still appraising Remus Lupin.
He remembered the fine-boned, almost delicate features; the straight nose, the pale but full mouth. He recalled the hair, streaked as it had been years ago with pale silver, a brilliant colour in the warm tawny thickness. The hair was matted slightly now, torn and tangled. A street waif's. Severus shook that thought off. Not intelligent, mild Remus Lupin. He recalled the skin, though, that perfect white cream. No, cream was tinted yellow. This was a white, milk colour.
People (mistakenly, Severus would like to add) had remarked to Severus on Remus's slant towards goldenness, as if the slight man had a golden glow. Not the case. The eyes carried a bit of that, as did the hair, but the skin was an almost cold white-blue colour. Likely not healthy, but like in porcelain, beautiful. Remus had always, always looked so fragile, and many felt kindly and indulged him for it.
Yes, a cool porcelain hued skin, on fragile bones, prominent in his slimness, and the gold-tinted, amber eyes that looked out from the white face. Severus had spent the better part of his past sighing after those amber eyes, but from a distance, and later in pictures. Bless the wizard who allowed magical photos to move.
Severus broke out of his fascinated gaze and gave a little cough, startling the smaller man. Remus turned to look at Severus, with curiosity, then shock. Those amber eyes Severus remembered only too well went wide with surprise, then fear. Or, rather, only one did. The other was swollen purple, fairly recent. A second bruise decorated Remus's pale neck, he noted too.
Severus, for his part, was equally shocked. He recovered himself as a crack of thunder sounded outside and Remus flinched from it, trying at the same time to keep the flinch hidden from Severus.
The shock in Remus's eyes dwindled into massive amounts of fear, and he took a step away. Severus looked at him, his small dark eyes bright with curiosity now. "Lupin?" he inquired.
Remus flinched at the name, and stumbled backwards, away from him. Severus frowned in annoyance, and Remus went, if possible, whiter than he was. "I'm sorry," he said softly, shaking his head back and forth in denial. "I didn't mean to offend you, I'm sorry…" He backed away, as Severus stared on, his fine black eyebrows high with incredulity.
"Lupin," he said in annoyance, "If this is about me turning you over to Albus, you needn't worry. I have no reason to… unless you were to give me one." He waited, his black eyes staring down his crooked nose at Remus, who appeared terrified.
"No, it's not that, I'm not worried about that. That is, I don't want to go back, I mean." He glanced up at Severus, then at the floor, almost as if he were ashamed. "I'm sorry I bothered you, I'll leave now," he said quickly, obviously eager to be free. His black eye was very purple by now, and his normally full bottom lip was swollen.
Severus rubbed at his temples. "You are not bothering me. Come here, Lupin."
Remus stopped his escape; though he made no move to come closer, and glanced at the door, out into the storm. He shivered, noticeably, and Severus felt a twinge of annoyance and pity. "Where's your cloak?"
"I-I don't have one," he said, avoiding Severus' gaze as he stood, pale in the dim light, and still wet from the rain. His large amber eyes looked around, everywhere but at Severus. His prominent cheekbones were hollowed, and he looked haunted.
Severus was instantly alerted. This wasn't the Remus Lupin he remembered; the confident, sweet, intelligent werewolf that never stuttered, always surrounded by friends, the mild professor who had been so strong as to survive the deaths of his friends. This one was wet, hurt, frightened, dressed in rags, and stuttering. The last bothered him immensely.
"Why not?" He tried to keep his tone less than accusatory, in hopes of not scaring Remus off.
"Werewolves d-don't deserve one."
Oh, really? Severus was incensed. Remus was still fearful of him, frightened and suspicious. The slight figure with the wide amber eyes darted looks out at the stormy weather, but never showed a sign to move, and stood there, shivering. Severus tried not to let his anger show, for once, and swallowed his anger to ask the poor, wet, but still beautiful man in front of him, "Who?" his voice came out hoarse. He cleared it quietly. "Who told you that?"
"Marcus." One word, spoken softly in the dark. Remus flinched from him, as if expecting a blow.
"And who's that?" Severus questioned, his usually menacing and sarcastic tone soft. He never got his answer though, as the door to the nearby pub smashed open, spilling patrons into the street, followed by drunken singing, and enthusiastic laughter and shouts.
Remus cocked his head, listening for something, and flinched again, as Severus watched him curiously. The slim man struggled against the instincts to run or stay and fight. Something broke, and his shoulders slumped as a name, his name, was called out in the street, interrupted by burst of thunder and gusts of rain that swept the words away.
"Remus! Where is that --- fucking ---- whore? Come on, ---- Lupin!" Remus started towards the door resignedly, his tawny head sunk onto his chest. He stopped, looking out into the stormy street hesitantly. He glanced back at Severus over his shoulder for one second, then disappeared into the street, his head bent against the wind.
Severus stood, his mouth unbecomingly open. He found his voice a little too late, and tried to call Remus, only to have reality crash in on his mind.
He turned back to the counter, and gave a death-glare to the pharmacist when the fat man eventually entered the shop, full from supper. The man squeaked a little as Snape's hand first crashed down on the countertop, and then grasped the man's collar.
"What do you know of Remus Lupin?" he demanded, tired of delays. The man began to sweat and let out a stream of words so fast he couldn't catch it. Severus let go of his collar reluctantly and glared down at him, and waited.
"How much?"
Severus dropped a small purse on the table, and glared at the man. "Talk."
"Remus Lupin? Brown hair, funniest golden eyes, kind of sick-looking, 'bout so tall and very slim. Thirty-something, though he looks older, when he's got black eyes and such, like most of the kids around here. Modest, polite, nice guy. Wants a job, but no can do."
Severus nodded impatiently. "Poor?"
"Aye, I think so, at least. Well, he is, but that bloke he's with, what's-his-name, Marcus Smith is well off. Sot, the pig spends all his money on drinks and the like down at the pub. Damn shame for that Remus fellow."
Severus nodded stiffly, his ire irked again by this new information, though he had suspected as much. So the werewolf was in trouble. "When did he arrive here?"
"'Bout, I don't know, two years ago, year and a half, mebbe? Buys hangover potions for Marcus, and then the sot gets drunk again. Oh, and painkillers, too. Something hurts him something fearsome. Something besides Marcus, that is." He trailed off and looked up at Severus curiously. "Why? Ol' friend?"
"Colleague," Severus answered curtly. "Anything else?"
"Ah, well, that'll cost you."
Severus grudgingly pulled out another purse. "Fine."
The man leaned forward conspiratorially. "He lives in the next alley, in the apartment about ten stories up. Follow Marcus's voice, he's a loud one. Remus won't make a peep though." He eyed Severus. "Going to help him?"
Severus nodded curtly, his black eyes bright with curiosity. The man nodded, satisfied with something, and continued in a low whisper. "Every night Marcus goes drinking, 5pm to 2am, at least usually. Room 107 at the apartments. And don't scare him, he's easily frightened. He'll run as like to talk. Aye, and if you help him, well, I for one shall be very grateful."
Severus nodded again, his black hair jerking slightly with the motion. He turned to leave, then cursed himself volubly as he remembered his reason to come here in the first place. "Do you have any porcupine quills?"
The man broke into a grin and a frenzy of activity ensued as Severus stood, fatally sophisticated, reading off his list of ingredients as his mind turned over one werewolf in trouble.