A/N: Hmm, six years huh? That's what I call writer's block. I wonder if anyone is going to read this. But here goes. I still remember the basic plotlines I thought up almost ten years ago on a long-distance train trip. It seems appropriate, since that, if I remember correctly, is how Rowling came up with the ideas for her wonderful characters. Interestingly, what prompted me to write another chapter was a cover of Alice Cooper's "Poison" by the German duo Groove Coverage. How tacky gan you get?
Chapter Nine - One, two, three, jump! I said jump!
There was no way around it. Severus hand't had time to think much about what the next step was after Narcissa's dissapearance, but it was clear that he needed a new person to try the octopus on. And here that person was. But how to convince him? Remembering Lupin's fascination with Narcissa he thought that he might be able to convince him to help. On second thought, no, that wouldn't work, he was sure. Lupin had made it very clear that he wanted nothing to do with him at their last meeting. He would have to use force then.
Out of the corner of his eye Remus registered a silhouette in the glass background behind the stage. He was still basking in the fun of a first visit to a strip joint, feeling reckless and somewhat giddy. So the silhouette, dimly there, not wanting to be ignored, was weighing down on his conscience. It was like being reminded of a dentist appointment in the middle of a very good film. Grudgingly he dragged his eyes away from "Bambi's" silky-smooth flancs and focused his gaze on... oh bugger. His eyes met Snape's, who was staring at him, his arms full of what appeared to be groceries. He decided just to ignore the man by offering to get the next round of drinks for the boys, not close friends but Snape didn't need to know that, and hope that he would disappear. Getting up he made his way to the bar and ordered five beers and a revolting-sounding "Fuzzy Navel". Good though, that would make the wait longer. He nervously watched the bartender mixing the drink.
"Thought you could get away?"
Remus simultaneously felt the hand on his shoulder and heard the deadpan question - or was it a comment? He jumped, shaking off the hand. He turned back towards the bartender, ignoring Snape. He had had his missgivings when the friend he knew best of the bunch had suggested a club in the vicinty of the scientist's flat, but he then had reassured himself that the odds of running into him here would be very slim, especially if, considering the embarrassing incident the other night, he tended to prefer men. Plus the man was a certified snob. So Remus had lightheartedly come along to be a bit naughty, though he had no intention of sampling anything from the paying "menu" of services available on the upper floors of the place.
"Lupin, don't ignore me. I need a word. It's very important" Snape concluded, feeling that the last sentence, though necessary, might well trigger the opposite reaction to the one it was aiming for.
Remus paid for the drinks and carried them past Snape, still standing stupidly on the spot with his bags of food in this arms. He reached the table, passed around the drinks, doled out spare change where it was due and raised his beer to join in the cheering and cat-calling that welcomed the next act on stage. He glaced cautiously over his shoulder. No Snape! Hardly believing his luck he turned around fully and looked. There was no sign of the madman. Breathing a sigh of relief, Remus turned his attention to "Candy", a leggy eastern-European woman in the process of picking a note out of his friend's waistband with her toes.
The evening wore on, or so it seemed: in truth, Remus didn't find Candy that titillating and his remaining unease prevented him from downing quite as many drinks as his friends. Each time he started to display signs of being tired, a drink was bought for him and set in front of him with shouts of encouragement to be a man and down it in one go. Remus got out of it by mentioning the curfew and possibly wanting to get home before the patrols started. This being an entertainment district, the militia tended to be more lenient when the amount of alcohol found in people's bloodstreams was within reason, especially since the obscenely high alcohol tax in such establishments as this one was a very lucrative source of revenue for the state. He was drawn out of his thoughts about how to leave without seeming rude - Snape had ruined his evening - by a sudden silence, his friends all turning to look behind him. With a sense of dread he turned too.
"Hi" Snape muttered to the crowd before shoving a flask of something under Remus' nose.
Candy and the boys looked on dumbstruck as Severus hoisted the unconscious Lupin over his shoulder, staggering a little under the weight, and made for the exit with an authoritative:
"Carry on."
He left at a fast pace, knowing exactly how much trouble he would get into if he got intercepted by the milita now. He wasn't too worried about the people in the club and Remus' drunk friends. This sort of thing did happen from time to time in this part of town, and he had made a point of changing into the government issued suit - light gray mao-collar and straight creaseless trousers - that he was expected to wear during the annual lab-assessment. They would probably think that he was part of some kind of a disciplinary task force and in any case that suspicion would be enough to prevent any enquiries.
Finally he got to his building, dragged Lupin to his flat, plonked him in the "coffin" and collapsed on the floor, panting. It had been a while since his last visit to the gym and his muscles were punishing him for it. 'And now what do I do?' He thought furiously. Narcissa was gone, it was too late to go to the lab. There was only one solution. He just regretted not being able to cross-check that there wouldn't be any adverse effects due to a possible interaction of the residual tranquiliser and the Lovex: the latter being a blackmarket drug it wasn't exactly listed in the pharmaceutical almanach and Severus could only guess at some of the ingredients. He hooked Remus up to a fresh drip-bag and then, acting as fast as he could before the tranquiliser wore off he forced a pill of Lovex down Lupin's throat, watching for the reflex upward motion of the Adam's apple, then massaging his throat to encourage an efficient passage into the stomach. Once he was satisfied that the pill had reached its destination, he went for the octopus and adjusted it to Lupin's head and switched on the recording software. He then went to get two armchairs from the lounge and placed them seat to seat so as to form a makeshift couch, then settled himself and took the three remaining pills. It was a lower dosage than he was used to, but he surmised that his present state of nervous exhaustion would enable the drug to work all the same. He regretted not having a second drip-bag, but the food in the refirgerator would still be there when he came to. And gradually, he felt himself sinking into the familiar state of altered consciousness.
Severus was in his bed at Hogwarts. He could hear snores coming from the four-poster bed next to his and loud breathing from the two other beds in the room. Be he was lying awake, furious, ünable to rest owing to the fact that he had not expected McGonagall to know about the Lupin boy's being a werewolf. Black! No matter what that arrogant degenerate did, he always got away with it! And Severus had known, from the very first look of annoyed sympathy from McGonagall that there was no way that he and that bigheaded ball of arrogance Potter would be expelled. Severus raged at the unjustice of it all. He could have been killed! Or worse, contaminated! And HE had been sworn to silence. He, the wronged party had to participate in the covering up of this scandal. He had half a mind to start rumours, but the harpy had alluded to depriving him of this special access to potions ingredients that was a not-so-secret privilege that Slughorn had decided to grant him after he had produced a sleeping draught so perfect that he had admitted to not being able to produce the likes of, should the word 'werewolf' be mentioned anywhere other than in Defence Against the Dark Arts during the following months until the break. And that would simply not do. It would interfere with his plans to try and prove to Lily that he was especially gifted. So what if Potter was a good quidditch player? Anyone with half a brain and all their limbs could do well at quidditch, where most of the work was done by the brooms anyway. But potions! A skilled brewer might find an important - and handsomely paid - position almost anyhwere at the Ministry, or open an apothecary, or even start a darker type of business. Severus stopped himself there. No point in getting ahead of himself. He would be quiet. He would do what he had to to reach his goals, win Lily and then, when life was sweet, possibly denounce Hogwarts - and Black - for having put pupils in danger by housing a sub-human.
And with those thoughts, Severus found that he could focus on the unpleasant yet rythmic sounds of his roommates' slumbers and finally drop off himself.
Remus woke up sore and bruised. Something had gone badly wrong last night. On days after the full moon he always felt a sens of dread. His friends had been staying with him at the Shrieking Shack for a few moons now, but he was always bothered by the fact that he wasn't his real self and that even though the wolf seemed to react differently to animagi than to humans, he just had no way of knowing for certain whether it would always be safe for them. And his memories were always coulded, but yesterday there had been screams and spells which he remembered distinctly. He remembered chasing something - someone! Remus' hands flew up to his hair and he pulled hard, assaulted by pangs of guilt and fear. No no no no no. WHO could possibly have been at the shack? His friends knew not to transform back in front of him. Pulling aside the curtains he looked around the room. James' pyjamas were on his bed, messily discarded on his way to early morning practice at the pitch. Remus got up and looked in James' trunk: yes, the quidditch robes were gone. He went over to Sirirus' bed and pulled the curtains aside. There his friend was, a bruise on his jaw darkening to a nasty green, but otherwise unscathed. Remus breathed a sigh of relief. Sirius' eyes fluttered open. From his friend's gaze Remus knew at once that there would be some uncomfortable explaining to for his friend do, but Sirius' face didn't show any alarm or sorrow, so it couldn't possibly be that bad. He sat down on the edge of the mattress.
"So..."
Severus woke up still feeling frustrated. He went down to breakfast in the great hall, hoping that there would still be enough kippers and toast, or eggs at the very least, left over at his table. He was a notoriously late riser and slow eater and the house-elves mentioned - as close as house-elves would ever get to complaining - that they often had to make single portions of food for the Slytherin table right before the bell, which interefered with their cleaning and food preparation for the midday meal. As a reaction Vance, a Slytherin sixth-year notorious for his dislike of all non-human personnel at the school, had made a point of ordering single kippers or rashers of bacon, and once even a single baked been right before the bell to "put the nasty little creatures in their place". This annoyed Severus as he had been forced to starve so that Vance could have his joke for a month or so, because despite his efforts, even when he did get up early, he didn't have the stomach for food until later. And then he usually had to make do with cereal or some other disgustingly sweet thing that other pupils seemed to like.
Sitting down - yes, nothing savoury, again - he couldn't help but glance over at the Gryffindor table. He meant to glance evilly at Black, who was the instigator of the practical joke that could have gone terribly wrong, in such a way that might give the impression that he had leverage over them due to the information he now had. But neither Black, nor Potter, nor Pettigrew were there. Just the monster. And he couldn't bring himself to look at him. Because deep down, he had been terrified at the smell of him, the sound of growling and snapping jaws and the shortest flash of the eyes, those same eyes, animated by a savage will to hunt him down. And that was something that Severus had taken seriously. Now that he tought of it, he was sure that it had been good to have Black to be angry at, because it had driven him to run after the lousy bastard in hopes of revenge, rather than stay put with the beast, frozen by the feeling of being prey. Severus had always thought that he wasn't a true victim, for even when he was bullied, he didn't let himself feel inferior and he had always thought that children who showed signs of fear or begged their bullies to relent were weak. This was because he thought that he was capable of much more drastic things than his bullies were, the spells in his potions book were proof of that. Now he knew, in his heart of hearts, what it was to be faced with someone capable of worse things than oneself. And he was afraid.
The bell rang and he dropped the two thirds that were left of his belgian waffle 'Honestly! more sugar than flour in that thing!' and headed off to the dungeons. His double-period of potions was a welcome relief and he was able to commit all his thoughts to how he should be able to speed up the brewing process wihtout increasing the heat under the cauldron. Slughorn, as usual, came over and praised the boy in a way that showed respect tinged with the smallest hint of dislike. Severus knew that Slughorn disapproved of his background, not so much because of his mother, but because his father had been something of an outcast in the wizarding world and he did not quite know what to make of the son. In Slughorn's opinion the boy accepted praise too coolly and punishment too calmly, which suggested that he somehow considered himself above both teacher approval and school regulations. And if there was one thing that Slughorn, a social climber himself, was wary of, it was of people who seemed not to know - or have - their place in society.
On his way to the greenhouses Severus had the distinct impression that he was being followed. He looked behind him and saw no one. 'Must be too close to the forest' he thought to himself shivering, not fully over the shock of the night before. But as he walked the feeling persisted. He headed towards a group of fellow Slytherins and entered the greenhouses with them but then doubled back and hid behind the doorframe. And sure enough: there was Lupin heading back to the castle, his head down, the very picture of dejection. 'Must've thought I needed bullying to keep his secret' Severus thought. 'Yes, he probably thinks that I'm afraid of him now.' He watched the boy a few seconds more, his mousy hair, his frame that looked like his growth had been stunted and somehow seemed to lack energy and determination despite the fast pace of his walk. How could anyone possibly suspect that body of turning into something so brutally strong and cruel? Suppressing a shiver of disgust he joined his classmates, resolved to not think about it further.
At lunch, Remus cornered him.
"Snape, could I have a word?" he asked, noting that the boy had been pointedly avoiding eye-contact.
"I don't think there's anything to say. McGonagall made it clear that I am not to say anything to anyone. Now be a good dog and go back to your keepers." Snape sneered.
"My so-called 'keepers' warned me that you would be a prat, but actually Snape, I wanted to apologise. Now that I've done that, I think I will join my FRIENDS." he said.
And then it happened. Their eyes met and what was meant to be a recognition on Severus' part that Remus truly felt badly about his involvement in the incident and Remus' seeing the fear underlying the nasty attitude turned into something else.
Suddenly they were both awake in Severus' flat, Remus' drip-bag half-empty and Severus' weight having pushed the two armchairs apart so that he was half-sitting on them, half-lying on the ground. Severus, being used to the drug got up at once, his stomach on fire. He rushed to the kitchen and gulped down water, grabbing the bag of chestnut flour and dipping his hand in. He brought the sweet flour - for Snape the scientist did have a sweet-tooth - to his mouth, gulped, choked and coughed before repeating. He had forgotten how bad the munchies were.
Remus sat up cautiously in the alabaster case. Noticing the drip he almost fainted, but it was clear enough what had happened. Being squeamish he didn't dare take the needle out of his arm himself. He then noted where he was.
"Where's Narcissa?" he tried to shout, his voice coming out in a dry trickle of sound.
Coming back from the kitchen, his hunger somewhat assuaged, Severus, still trying to clear his mouth of chestnut paste, took out the drip from Remus' arm and pushed him back into a lying position.
"You'll be vomit if you get up too fast." he croaked.
"Where is Narcissa?" Remus repeated, his voice growing stronger.
"I don't know." Severus stated calmly. "That's what I wanted to discuss with you earlier, but you left me no choice." He went to the kitchen and came back with a glass of water. After a minute or so he continued:
"But I don't think that that is the important issue now."
Remus swallowed the water hastily. A flood of visions came back to him, ending with eye-contact with a teenage Severus in a gothic school where magic was taught. Feelings came back with the images: guilt, anger at himself, anger at others, fear of the unknown, relief at having sorted something out. He checked himself. Those feelings were not his own. He had never felt anything so strong in his bland life since the blackout. In fact, he had no idea how anyone could bear feeling all that at once and not become either a psycopath or a very hard person. Or a hopelessly kind one: He also remembered his friends from the what... it hadn't been a dream. Sirius especially, who had calmly explained what had happened and then apologised sincerely. He had explained that the bruise was from James' punch when they realised that Remus might get out of control and that if he did they would be to blame for anything he might do to Snivellus. Thinking back, the adult Remus was struck by the genuine concern and affection expressed in Sirius' whole countenance as he apologised. He didn't understand why the teenage Remus has turned on his heel and left without a word, though at the time it had made sense. The adult Remus was certain that no one had, or ever would, look at him with that much emotion in their face. He just wasn't the kind of person people reacted that way to. Except...
He glaced at Severus. 'Except the madman.' But now he couldn't, for a second even, stick to his appraisal of the other's being mad. It was clear that their recognising of eachother through their alter-ego's eyes had triggered a simultaneous regain of consciousness. Moreover, from the way the scientist was looking at him now it was apparent that he was also sorting out what to make of the situation.