This Ae Night
Angst/Horror, PG-13. (Language, implied violence).
Summary: Snape's dying. Lupin's watching. Set in HBP; slight AU, 'cause now we all know what happened. I wrote this ages ago, and posted it for laughs. Have fun.
Ch. 1 Blood-Dimmed Tide
The night was quiet, to most ears. The dark house, not really there at all, drifted about Remus Lupin restlessly. These were strange nights, just after the Winter Solstice: like doors slightly off hinges, he'd heard it described once in a children's book. Wolf nights, when ravenous mouths came creeping down off the hillsides to plunder in the villages. Of course, this was London, Remus smiled. Here, the wolves wore suits and expensive watches, and their grins did not scare children. Much.
Trying to sleep would be useless. Sleep itself was useless, the way the worlds reeled these nights, drunkenly blurring dreams into wakefulness; reality characterized only by a distinct lack of clarity. Remus had given up trying to orient himself in the creaking, shifting house; a veritable Shrieking Shack in its own, haunted way. He let the steps slide under his feet, all the way down to the basement kitchen.
Molly Weasley was still down there, favouring this room above all others. The supper dishes had long ago been put away, but she still bustled about, imposing order upon impending chaos, creating safe spaces in a world that wasn't. Remus made some noise with his feet, knowing she hated being startled. He caught a whiff of burnt fumitory as he sat down at the table, and she turned toward him looking almost sheepish.
"My mother always burnt it when I was little and had bad dreams. The smell's comforting," Molly explained, laying down the bundle of herbs long enough to set a cup of tea in front of Remus.
"Does it work?" he asked softly, taking a sip.
"Against nightmares? Not really, no. It's supposed to drive off evil spirits, keep ghosts out of houses, or something like that. I don't know why I'm burning it here. I'll find something more cheerful; this is the kitchen, after all." She opened the nearest cupboard and started rummaging through a large collection of spices, all carefully transported from the Burrow.
"Here's one, rosemary. That'll be lovely." The red-haired witch threw a pinch of the evergreen herb into a chipped saucer and lit it with her wand. A strand of fragrant smoke caught in a draft, and swirled against the ceiling. It reminded Remus of Sybil Trelawney, and her odd mutterings that often prophesied death. It might have been funny a few years ago, before the inevitable had caught up to them and stripped away their laughter. So many dead, and nothing to show for it.
"Where's Arthur?" He asked, pushing away his darker thoughts.
"Went to bed ages ago, poor dear. They wear him out at the Ministry; haven't even told him if he'll get a few days off, and here it is, almost Christmas. We'll all be heading back to the Burrow, I expect, if they think it's safe enough for us there." She paused, and then added, "You know well enough that Albus will invite you to Hogwarts for the feast, otherwise you're always welcome to join us. I know Harry would love to see you more often." She patted his arm, and poured some more hot in his tea. "You shouldn't be here all by yourself, Remus."
"I'm not," he protested, "there's always someone here with a message, or information."
"But they don't stay, Remus. No one stays here, but you. Arthur and I have decided we can't remain here any longer. This place isn't our home, and it isn't your home, either. It wasn't even Sirius' home-" Remus started to flinch but caught himself- "and it can't be healthy for you to lurk here in the dark all of the time. You need a place where you can actually see the stars at night, where they're crisp and clear as ice. I'm sure Albus has a cottage you can rent. I'll ask him for you the next time I see him."
And before Remus could protest, she'd snuffed out the last glow from the rosemary and departed.
Albus had sent him to his death.
He'd known it would happen eventually; that he would die and that it would be the Headmaster's fault, in essence, if not in deed. The Dark Lord would kill him; he'd always been sure of that, though if Albus hadn't meddled, if the twinkly bastard had left him to his own devices, he would have survived longer than this. Slytherin cunning was good for something, after all. And right now, some sensory part of it was suggesting that he would be better off not opening the door in front of him.
He'd been found out, he was certain of it. His latest gestures of goodwill towards the Dark Lord, sending Vance and Bones to their deaths, had barely been acknowledged. They hadn't been important enough, little more than strategic losses. As Albus had probably considered Snape, in the moments before he'd forbidden him to kill the Auror Shacklebolt, and again when he'd quickly sent Snape back to Voldemort after that particularly embarrassing failure.
Returning to his master now would only earn him a horrible, convulsing death. Snape had informed the Headmaster of this, of course, standing trembling beside Fawkes. Fear beat shame every time, and he was frightened enough to even tell Albus that this trip would be his last one, should he be sent off on it.
Which he was, with a promptness that hurt even his angry heart. There was the greater good to think of, after all. He might not have exposed his position; he might still be a viable spy, and if he didn't return, how might he explain his absence to the Dark Lord? Albus' mind was made up, and Severus had fled the office, hearing Fawkes' soft call rise up behind him.
Starting to shiver in the late December air, Severus knocked on the door. It swung open at an odd angle, creaking on rusty hinges. The room within was sultry and warm, though lit only by a fire in a grate. There seemed to be a lot of people standing in the room, Severus thought, fighting down his uneasiness and stepping inside. Albus has sent me to my death.
"Ah, Severusss, there you are. We were afraid you weren't going to make it."
There was a knock at the door. Remus startled, spilling tea that had long ago grown cold. The clock on the wall revealed it was half past six, nearly dawn. He must've fallen asleep at the table, he figured as he pulled himself out of his chair. There was no meeting scheduled today, but the Order members kept odd hours, and someone showing up this early wasn't much of a surprise. Dumbledore came for breakfast when he could, and Kingsley might step in to share a bit of news before work. With this in mind, Remus was almost cheerful as he rubbed his eyes blearily and staggered up the stairs.
The knock hadn't been repeated, but that was alright. By this time, most of the Order had grown more cautious around the obnoxious Mrs. Black, and at this early hour, were quite considerate for whoever might be trying to sleep within. Remus undid the locks, and muttered the charm to take down the door's wards. He felt, rather than heard, the enchantments un-weave themselves, and pulled the door open.
All he could smell was blood. It filled him as an intoxicating drink would, and he had to turn away to keep the wolf from taking control.
"Get out of my way, Lupin," a voice snarled, and a blur of dark cloth swirled past him, encircling him with scents that masked Snape's usual smell of sandalwood and cedar, the dampness of Hogwarts' dungeons, and whatever potions ingredients he'd been working with. "Is the Headmaster here?" he heard Snape call back over his shoulder, which promptly set off Mrs. Black's portrait.
Remus couldn't quite catch what Snape said to her, but she shut-up voluntarily, and Remus easily pulled the curtains closed. He returned to the downstairs kitchen to find Snape staring at the empty table.
"Are you alright, Severus?" He asked quietly, cornering the wolf beneath the floorboards of his mind and appraising the dark man before him. Snape's cloak was covered with dust, on closer inspection, and his clothes were rumpled and torn in places. The smell of blood was maddening. "Did you come from a meeting, Severus?" Remus stepped closer, noticing that the spy was supporting himself with a white-knuckled grip on the countertop.
"Where's Albus?" Snape's voice had a hysterical twinge to it. "He should be here. He wasn't at Hogwarts; I checked his office. Why isn't he here? Why isn't he here?"
"He might arrive later on, for breakfast," Remus found himself saying soothingly. "I think you need to sit d-"
Snape crumpled to the floor. Remus stepped forward in time to break the worst of his fall, but the man flinched away from him.
"Get away from me, Lupin. Fucking werewolf," Snape sneered, but Remus caught the glimmer of fear in his eyes and backed off. He pulled up a chair and watched the spy, who glowered back up at him and asked again, "Where's Albus?"
"He's not here Severus; I told you that already. I'm going to call Madam Pomfrey. There's…" he trailed off, swallowed, tried again. "There's something wrong with you."
Snape snorted, which lessened Remus' concern momentarily, though it immediately returned in full force when Snape breathed in again, and Lupin's werewolf ears picked up the sound of blood, gurgling in the man's lungs. Internal bleeding, he thought. What potions work for that?
"Astringents," Snape answered, though Remus hadn't spoken. "Ones with Yarrow and Comfrey and Rugosa inside of them, not that they'll do any good now. Albus has sent me to. . . Where's Albus?"
Remus threw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace and yelled for Poppy Pomfrey.
End chapter one
Chapter One Notes: I'm trying to fit this into HBP in a certain sense, although I've left Arthur and Molly Weasley at HQ, not at the Burrow with Fleur and Bill, who are irrelevant for this fic and so are off on Order business (convenient, eh?) I know Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and Ron would be out of school around this time (about Dec. 22) but they'll enter this mess soon enough. I think I've screwed up my dates of post-Yuletide chaos, though I'm making guesses with a Northern pagan calendar (a mix of solar and lunar), not our own (solar). I hate writing "Christmas" fics, but Halloween would be a tad cliché. So this is an AU HBP. I'll try to stick to canon when I remember it, though I do tend to lean towards SS/RL slash, and in this fic it might be an undertone. Oh damn I forgot about Tonks! Oh well...
Interesting Chapter One Notes: Title is from the Lyke Wake Carol. The children's book is The Book of Dead Days, the ability to 'drive off evil' is the only thing I can remember about fumitory, though rosemary does the same thing and is even purported to keep away nightmares, in case you were wondering… which you probably weren't… Cheers.
This ae night, this ae night
Every night and all
Fire and sleet and candlelight
And Christ redeem thy soul