DISCLAIMER: I'm not Just Kidding when I say I'm not J.K.(R.)

Hey, y'all...the last chapter was way too short. I wrote more and added it on...but then it didn't save or something, and I didn't realize it until now. *hangs head* Ah well. Here's another half, and please forgive me for my ineptitude!

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Chapter Five and a Half

However begrudgingly, Severus acquiesced to Remus' suggestion, and he approached James warily. His closeness elicited no visible response from the invalid, who merely appeared bemused.

I wonder if his mind is truly gone. That would be one of the most...novel things Severus had ever imagined. He walked around to the other side of the bed slowly, with a methodical rhythm in his step. His eyes never ceased their cold scrutiny of the man in the bed. James Potter reduced to a living vegetable? Well, let's stick a fork in this potato to see if it's raw.

So thinking, he suddenly reached out and attacked James' arm with his fingernails, latching onto the muscular limb with the vindictiveness of an eagle clawing a fish.

This, to everyone's surprise, did cause James to respond. "Owww," he whinged, and Severus immediately released him. The gray marks on James' sallow flesh remained pale for a moment, then turned pink. Severus wasn't paying attention to this, though, as he stared his enemy in the eyes, trying out the legilimency that he'd been working on lately.

The other man's mind was strangely blank, to the point of being very eerie. Severus withdrew after the briefest of moments, not sure how he felt about knowing that James Potter didn't remember anything about his life--or, more relevant to me, his wife.

He resurfaced to meet the criticism of the spectators. "That...that was uncalled for, Severus," Lupin said, his eyes wide with dismay and shock.

"He isn't bleeding," replied Pomfrey cautiously, "but still, Severus, I must agree. That was unnecessary. Especially after I told you not to."

He shrugged. He didn't care.

"He said something, at least," he offered in his own defense.

"True," the healer answered, "but still..."

So saying, she raised herself from against the wall where she had been leaning, and began to run diagnostic spells over the prostrate Potter. Severus, to better observe Lupin, took her place next to the werewolf.

"I'm fairly certain he's not going to remember anything for a very long time," he said in a low voice, still uncertain as to how he felt about the situation.

"Really? How horrible. Just horrible." With that, Lupin curled up on his chair, bringing his legs close to his scrawny body and nestling his head face-down between his knees. In such a position, he vaguely resembled a number six.

Which brought to Severus' mind the number twenty-six, which day of the month would be the next full moon. (In his paranoia, Severus always made sure to know what day the full moon was, and he had memorized the astrological algorithm so that he might always know when it would occur. He never wanted to be caught outside, alone, during the full moon.)

"Lupin," Severus addressed the other man with a small smirk, "I was thinking of hosting a dinner-party on the twenty-sixth of this month. We'll start at eleven and be up 'til perhaps three in the morning. Care to come?"

"How would you have me respond, Severus? 'Yes, I'd jolly well love to?'" With that, Severus noticed the other man was trembling--not in a noticeable manner, but just enough to indicate emotional distress.

I'm not being any better than Potter would be towards me, Severus realized grimly, and thought he ought to recant his words.

"Besides," Lupin added, never raising his head, "you don't need to kick a man when he's down, do you? One of my best mate's close to dead, and it could ruddy well be my own fault. Can't you leave off your petty rivalry for once?"

This shocked Severus even more than the idea that Lupin might be crying.

"You actually bloody like them," he replied, aghast. Was I really all that wrong to think that the others were...forcing him to associate with them?

"Yes!" Lupin replied, looking up and gazing at the darker wizard. "Why else would I be their chum?"

Severus just shook his head. You're so naive, he criticized the werewolf. Of course I would think there's something more sinister up. I'm a Slytherin. I know these kinds of things happen. Just look at Malfoy--I can't believe I was his only acquaintance that he didn't have anything to hold over my head! He was still miffed over the day that he had discovered this, sometime in his sixth year.

But I won't think about that now. I'll think about it later.

Indeed, Severus had other things to worry about, for Lupin was dabbing at his wet face with a raggedy shirt sleeve and appeared pensive.

"We should talk, Severus," the other man said, careful not to look at him who he addressed.

"What about?" Snape replied scoffingly.

"Well, for instance...I'd like to know why you're here."

"That's none of your business."

"If my theory is right...then it is my business. Somewhat."

Severus was intrigued. What does he think about me? he wondered, but then he felt paralyzed at the realization that wait...he might actually know about how I...oh no.

Is he going to blackmail me? was his next thought. Wouldn't that be ironic...when for so long I've thought he was the victim of blackmail or some other guilt-trip scheme, now he decides to turn around and use those tactics against me?

"Yes," Severus said, carefully controlling his voice to prevent his fear from showing. "We should definitely talk, Lupin."

"When and where?" asked the werewolf amicably, but before Severus could reply, Pomfrey returned to them, looking aggrieved.

"Oh, this is so sad," she whispered, "I believe he's been struck with complete Obliviates, along with the Crucio he's suffered and the slashings all over him. I...there's nothing that I can do, gentlemen. I think he'll be needing to go to St. Mungo's, and I don't know that he'll be leaving very soon. I'm sorry. He mayn't ever remember anything."

Remus' face immediately contorted with hideous grief, and he ducked his head again. Pomfrey assumed a chair next to him and began to massage his back gently. "There, there," she whispered comfortingly between his sobs. In return, he grasped her in a desperate hug and cried heavily on the matron's shoulder.

It struck Severus to the core to see the other man so unhappy, and he felt, for not the first time in his life, bitterly jealous of James.

No one would cry so hard for me, he thought, his thoughts turning to self-piteous. I'm not worth a cent to anyone now, where I stand.

"I'm leaving," he said curtly. "I'll contact you, Lupin."

Turning away, he went towards the door--only to be nearly steamrolled by Sirius, who leaped into the room like the mad dog that he was. Dumbledore tottered in behind him, his usually cheerful countenance ashen.

"Moony!" Black exclaimed, barreling over to his comrade. "Is he...?" His eyes darted to regard James, who had closed his eyes and was now breathing peacefully. Dumbledore walked over to the bedside to regard the patient.

"No, he'll live," Pomfrey replied, "largely thanks to Severus. But I must say...he's lost all his memories, from what I can tell. He's the victim of an Obliviate, and someone entered his mind with legilmency, too."

With that, Severus noticed Dumbledore turn his head towards him, and he tried to swallow his panic.

"I entered his mind, but it was only for a moment," he said aloud, carefully. "I wanted to see if he truly recognized me."

Not completely satisfied, Dumbledore averted his attention once again, and Pomfrey shook her head. She was still patting Lupin's back, even though his tears were ebbing.

"Severus Snape, you're a very precocious man."

He shrugged. He didn't care. So, he left.

On his way out, he heard Lily's voice, wailing.

"It's all my fault...all my fault!"

"My dear, don't blame yourself," he heard McGonagall reply, in a conciliatory manner. "I know he wouldn't blame you."

Severus sighed, trying to feel jealous of James again, but instead feeling strangely devoid of emotions.

I need to get some rest, he told himself, so, as soon as he got outside, he disapparated home.

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