Had the Dark Lord himself stepped in and declared his engagement to a Muggle woman, Severus could not have been more surprised. Lupin, however, either did not notice or else he chose to overlook Severus's puzzlement.
"Good evening. I hope I didn't disturb you with anything?" he said. "I just thought I could come down and see if everything's all right with you. It's half past eight already, and you didn't send a note or a house elf to tell me you wouldn't come."
Severus gaped at the other man in outright bewilderment. The two of them had not talked to each other since last Saturday, and now Lupin simply came to his private rooms and behaved as if nothing had happened! Severus felt rage surge up from within. How could the werewolf just turn up and play ideal world? He opened his mouth to sneer at the man, to ask him if he truly was so imbecile as to believe he would be welcomed with open arms, to tell him to go to hell –
Fear. Shouting. Blows. Pain. The feeling of utter helplessness. Tears. I'm sorry, Daddy. Worthless. More tears. Guilt. Soothing whispers. It's all right, you needn't be afraid. Gentleness. Caressing hands. I'm here, you are safe. Being held. Lupin.
Severus's mouth snapped shut. He stared at the werewolf, who simply looked back at him. The anger was almost gone, had vanished in an instant. Severus did not quite understand why. He only knew that he did not truly want Lupin to leave. Something inside him wanted to take this chance, realised that it was important. Just minutes ago he had felt desperate about the prospect of not seeing Lupin again - and now he was here.
"No, I… everything's fine, no need to worry," he finally managed to answer his colleague's question.
'And why didn't he send a house-elf himself to ask whether or not I would still come, instead of coming all the way down here?' What Lupin had said sounded rather illogical.
"I just… forgot about the time. It's been a long day," he went on, deciding to just play along and wait what would come of this. If Lupin had decided to just ignore Severus's poor behaviour from a week ago... if he had chosen to ignore the whole incident, then he, Severus, could do the same.
"Well, I'm glad to hear that," Lupin said. "As I'm here now anyway, we could play here tonight, what do you think? You do have a chessboard, don't you?"
Severus found himself at a loss of words, something that did not happen very often. He felt strangely relieved. It had not added to his well-being that during this week his 'master' had summoned his followers twice, one meeting having taken place just after today's last class. Luckily, Lucius had not been present, but it still had been anything but pleasant. Lupin would detract him from thinking about this.
"Yes," he finally brought out. "Of course I have one." He went over to the shelf on the right side of the room and returned with a large chessboard which he then placed at the table. Both men sat down, and, as usual, Lupin was the first to make a move. Watching his colleague, Severus more and more realised that he was absurdly glad about the other man's presence. He did not want to think about how the evening would have proceeded without Lupin turning up.
After Severus had lost the game in about an hour and a half - something he could not have cared less about – Lupin got up.
"Thank you for the evening," he said. "What about next week? Should I come down again?"
Some part of his mind still wondering how he had landed in this surreal dream, Severus answered, "No, I think your rooms are fine; I have gotten used to it."
"Well then, good night," Lupin nodded and turned to the exit, leaving behind a severely confused Potions Master.
Remus had been extremely relieved that he had not been kicked out immediately – something he had expected almost for sure when entering Severus's rooms.
Now that he knew that Severus was using a Glamour Charm, Remus was easily able to look behind this masquerade, even when the charm was not wearing off as it had done from time to time during the last weeks. Once you knew such a charm was being used, the countercharm could be performed quite effortlessly and without being noticed. In seeing the pale, tired out man standing by the fireside, immediately adopting a defensive posture at the sight of another person, a hard knot had built in his chest. How should he ever be able to look Severus in the eyes when all he could think of was how unforgivably he, Remus, had behaved a week ago?
Somehow he had managed to overcome this sensation, as well as the urge to immediately apologise for his harsh words, fearing that if he brought up the subject, it would again cause ill-feeling between them. So instead, he had merely pretended everything to be all right – and Severus had seemed to be willing to play along. Of course, had the other man confronted him and insisted on speaking about it, he would have apologised, but in a way, he was glad it had not been necessary.
The next week went by in a state of wary truce. Unlike the previous week, during which he had simply not known how to address Severus, Remus tried to exchange some words with him during the meals every day, his attempts being rewarded with hesitant answers.
Friday evening was awkward. The two men were sitting in Remus's rooms, the latter vainly trying to concentrate on the chess game, while all he could think of was how he could ease off the situation.
Obviously Severus was absorbed in his own thoughts as well, again playing below his standard.
Finally, after two hours of rather pointless draws and counterattacks, the game ended in a tie and Severus left, Remus feeling utterly frustrated with the whole situation. He needed to do something about it.
Severus strode through the corridors, his robes whirling behind him as he hurried towards the east wing and Lupin's rooms. It was Friday again, December 11th, and ever since Lupin had unexpectedly turned up in the dungeons two weeks ago, Severus had found himself struggling with an odd desire he had not felt since he had left his father's house.
He wanted to apologise.
When this idea had occurred to him first, he had brushed it aside with an angry snort. Of all the inane flowery phrases which ruled most people's behaviour towards one another, apologising was certainly the most pointless one. It seemed that at last – probably caused by all the recent stress - he was going insane. Or perhaps idiocy was infectious after all, and he had finally contracted it after living so many years amongst imbecile students.
Still annoyed with himself, he arrived at Lupin's chambers. His colleague greeted him with a cautious smile, and they settled down to begin the game. Severus was well aware of the tension that had been between him and Lupin ever since the latter's visit to the dungeons – something that seemed to make it even more of a necessity to apologise, as he was certain it was a result of his insulting words. At the moment, however, he could simply not overcome his inhibitions.
'I'm sorry.' How many times had he spoken those words, meaning them with all his heart, desperately wishing to somehow make up for whatever he had done to displease the man he had called father? It had not helped at all. If anything, his father had regarded him with even more contempt, calling him a 'pathetic washout' who was not worthy of the name of Snape. Finally, Severus had given up apologising, long before he had finished school.
Except for one time during those endless days in the dungeon sixteen years ago… this one time, when Lucius had once again told him how nauseating it was to even look at him.
"I… I'm sorry…" Severus had whispered, trembling, bleeding, the last remains of his dignity, like himself, lying shattered on the ground. Even when Lucius had long left, he head not been able to stop whimpering "I'm sorry," again and again, only the darkness listening to his apology for being alive.
Severus gritted his teeth, forcing the memory to retreat to whatever dark corner of his mind it had crept out of. No, apologising never made things better, that he knew for sure. So why then would this accursed feeling not leave him alone?
"Snape?" Lupin's voice suddenly startled him from his thoughts. "I think we… we need to talk."
Focussing his attention at the other man, Severus noticed him to look rather nervous. What could this mean? he wondered.
"About what?"
"You see… I'm sorry," Lupin said in a low voice, looking straight into Severus's eyes, an expression of complete sincerity on his face. "I'm sorry about my words on Saturday. I didn't mean to hurt you, but… I just lost my temper. It was inexcusable."
Severus's first thought was to say that yes, indeed, it was inexcusable, and that Lupin should go to hell – until he realised that this was an instinctive reaction and he did not truly mean it.
His second notion was to ask why Lupin should want to apologise, what he had said three weeks ago being nothing but the truth – until he realised that it was far too personal a thing to say.
Moreover, the strange sensation of warmth and relief which he now felt take him over from within made him forget about those thoughts. 'I'm sorry.' These simple words, which had always seemed so pathetic when he had spoken them, had managed to take away most of the pain that had still welled up in him every time he had seen his colleague and remembered his words. Surely Lupin felt the same about him. Maybe he should…
'A Snape does not apologise! A Snape never does anything that would require an apology. Apologising is for the weak!' he heard the litany in his mind. Every time he had been berated for apologising, he had felt the absurd urge to instantly apologise again. It had been so confusing, so humiliating…
Merlin, this was hard. Nevertheless, Severus forced himself to speak. This was too important to let himself be ruled by the past. "Never mind. I… provoked you. In regard to what I said that evening – I did not intend to insult you. I was… upset, because there had been a summoning beforehand. Of course this is no appropriate excuse for my -"
"It is," Lupin cut him off in a soft tone. Severus was stunned. When he did not answer, Lupin went on, "I accept your apology," smiling at him warmly.
For the second time in this evening, Severus felt incredibly relieved. "Thank you," he murmured - quite unintentionally - staring at the chessboard, where, as he noticed, one of his rooks was about to be knocked down by Lupin's queen as soon as he would make the next draw.
"It's nothing," was the soft answer. "I enjoy your company. I don't want to lose it because of some stupid argument."
Severus swallowed hard. He did not know what to say, as no one had ever said such a thing to him. "I… appreciate this time, too," he finally brought out, his voice as indifferent as he could manage. When he shot Lupin a short glance, he again earned a warm smile – one of those smiles which three years ago had annoyed him beyond reason. They no longer did. Severus found himself thinking that he could get used to this.
"And Snape? Thank you for forgiving me."
They did not talk much after that, but the silence was no longer an uncomfortable one, and when some time afterwards Severus left for his own chambers, he had the feeling that at least one thing in his life might change for the better.
In the late afternoon of December 22nd, a Wednesday, Remus was in his office and just putting the grindylows he had shown to his second-year class back into the aquarium, when there was a knocking at the door.
"Come in, please," he said, turning towards the door, which opened to reveal a sixteen-year-old boy with messy black hair and spectacled green eyes.
"Harry!" Remus was honestly surprised. Since the beginning of the term Harry had not come once to see him, although he had offered it to the boy while they had been at Grimmauld Place at the end of the holidays. If Harry wanted to talk, Remus had let him know, then he would be there to listen.
Harry, however, had not taken this offer but, as it seemed, had withdrawn more and more into himself. He had looked pale and depressed and thinner than he used to be, and he had not paid much attention even in Defense Against the Dark Arts, his favourite class. Several times, Remus had tried to talk to him, but every time his concerned questions had fallen on deaf ears, Harry telling him that everything was fine and he did not need to worry.
Of course worrying had exactly been what Remus had done, and, asking Ron and Hermione about it, he had been even more concerned when they had told him that Harry had withdrawn from his best friends, too. However, there had been nothing he could have done to help it other than asking Harry's friends to keep a close eye on him, which he knew they would do anyway. He had talked about it to Albus as well, but the headmaster had not been able to tell him anything more, since Harry had been even more reserved toward the old wizard than toward Remus.
"Um… hello," Harry greeted now, seeming slightly uneasy.
"What can I do for you?" Remus asked.
"I just wanted to wish you Happy Christmas. Tomorrow I'll be going to The Burrow with Ron and Ginny."
So at least Harry would not spend the holidays alone in Gryffindor tower, Remus thought. He doubted whether the company of the few teachers left in the castle during the holidays – in fact, only Albus, Severus and himself – would have been the right means to cheer the boy up.
"That's great," he replied. "Just the thought of Molly's Christmas dinner makes me envious. Tell her and Arthur Happy Christmas from me, will you?"
"Sure, I'll do that. And it's not like the house elves don't make a great Christmas Dinner, so you've no reason to complain. I remember that in my third year you seemed to like their cooking a lot. On Christmas you had three servings – and three desserts as well."
There was an unmistakable irony in Harry's saying this, which made Remus watch him more closely. He was relieved to see that the shadows under his eyes were not as heavy as they had been during the last weeks, and he didn't appear so gaunt anymore.
"You are looking better," he said softly, not knowing whether or not it was a good idea to mention it.
"Yeah…" Harry murmured. "Actually, I'm feeling better. I was… kind of depressed because of… because of Sirius…" he paused for some moments, the thought of his dead godfather obviously still hurting. "I thought it was my fault that he died…"
"Harry, you know that's not true!" Remus could not help interrupting the boy.
"Yes, I know. Don't worry," Harry answered. "I know it was rather stupid, and I was almost losing it, but… Ron and Hermione… they're helping me with it." A faint smile lit his still pale face. "They're great friends."
Remus found himself to be extremely relieved in hearing this. "I'm glad you're better, Harry," he said. "I was truly worried about you."
"Yes, I know. I'm sorry, Professor."
"It's Remus, remember?" He had asked Harry to call him by his first name at the last day at headquarters. "And you don't have to apologise. I know… it must be very hard for you."
Harry nodded briefly. "So what will you do at Christmas?" he asked, obviously wanting to switch subjects. "Just stay here and probably have four desserts this time?"
"Exactly," Remus smiled. "Just enjoy Christmas Dinner and the silence. Every now and then it's nice not to have so many people around. And this year almost everyone's gone, besides Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape and me."
"Then you'd probably be better off leaving, too," Harry said with a sour undertone. "Snape's not the kind of person I'd want to spend Christmas with. I doubt he even knows what it is, or at least that's how he was behaving today. Well, actually it wasn't any different from normal. Just scowling at everyone, ranting about our incredible incompetence, and so on."
Hearing this, Remus found himself frowning. "You know, Harry, you shouldn't judge him that harshly. Think about what he's doing for us. It's definitely not fun having to face Voldemort every other day."
Harry looked slightly puzzled. "Maybe," he admitted. "But still… he wouldn't die of being less grumpy, just one time a year. And I don't see how constantly being told about my obvious lack of brains should miraculously cure me from the disease of stupidity."
Remus chuckled at the last remark. "That's true," he replied.
"So, er… I've got to go," Harry said. "Still have some packing to do. Hermione'll get mad at me if I do it tomorrow morning instead of now."
"Oh, we can't have that," Remus smiled. "Have a good time, Harry."
"Thanks. You, too… Remus." With this Harry left. Remus sat down at his desk, feeling more than relieved that Harry had finally accepted help from people who cared about him. He only hoped that some day Severus, too, would be able to do so.
Friday evening, Christmas Eve, found Severus in Lupin's rooms, sitting in a red wing-chair, a glass of wine in hand and – at last, after weeks of defeats – being on the best way to win a game of chess. There had not been a single summoning during the last ten days, and he was feeling slightly better since he had thankfully been able to sleep more than two or three hours in the previous nights.
Observing his colleague's face as the latter commanded his knight to move, Severus knew this to be a desperate attempt to avert defeat. During the last two months, he had come to learn quite a lot about Lupin's tactics, about his typical draws, about the way his eyes would briefly light up when he was pleased with his last move.
"There's no point in that," he said. "It won't save you."
"No, I guess not," Lupin admitted. "I fear I have my mind on other things tonight."
Severus did not ask what those would be. They did not talk about personal matters, as the chance for an argument resulting from it was far too large. It had been a kind of silent agreement between the two of them since that Saturday in November, and he was determined to adhere to it. And what should he want to know about Lupin's private life anyway? Probably a great deal of the man's thoughts were dealing with Black and, of course, Potter. He was not in the least interested in hearing anything about those two.
After Severus had beaten the knight with one of his rooks, Lupin looked resignedly at the chessboard. "No more than about five draws until it's over. You were right."
"It's about time that I win again," Severus said, pleased with himself. He had refilled his glass, and pleasant warmth was spreading through his limbs.
"On Wednesday, Harry came to my office."
Severus blinked, irritated.
"Did you notice there was something wrong with him since summer?" Lupin went on.
Severus snorted. "Of course I did. How should I not? Almost every lesson with him was a complete catastrophe. I stopped counting how often he blew up his cauldron or how many students I had to send to the infirmary because of his incompetence." Hopefully, this would silence Lupin. Severus did not want to talk about Potter, of all people. The mere thought of the boy irritated him. Why the hell did Lupin approach that subject now?
"He's better now," Lupin said.
Was he supposed to cheer or clap his hands? Well, at least he no longer had to fear for the boy to go and throw himself at the Dark Lord's feet in an attempted suicide, arising from mere self-pity.
"It was about time that he pulled himself together," he answered.
Lupin furrowed his brow. "He had a hard time after… after his godfather's death." Was there a glint of sadness in his eyes? "He told me about your classes."
So that was what Lupin was getting at. Severus could perfectly imagine Potter whining about being treated unfair. "Already feeling well enough to again begin complaining, is he?" he sneered.
"No, he didn't complain. He just said it wouldn't hurt if you were a little more civil toward everyone, at least now. After all, it's Christmas."
Christmas. Why, that was a reason, of course. At least to Potter, or any other of those spoiled brats, or romanticists like Lupin.
"I have not celebrated Christmas since I was seven years old," Severus replied harshly.
Lupin seemed stunned. "Why not?"
Why not. A bitter taste suddenly filled Severus's mouth. Thirty years ago, on Christmas morning, a seven-year-old Severus Snape had insisted on having answered the very same question, realising the lacking of a Christmas tree. His father had answered by giving him a good thrashing, and he had spent the rest of the day, as well as the night, in the small room in the cellar that his father had thought to be quite the right place for him on many occasions since he had been about four. It was cold and damp, and he had never had a candle. At first he had hated this room, but as always father had to be right. When he had kept on telling him that he belonged there, Severus had believed it. He had no longer hated the cellar. But what a kind of person must he be to belong in such a place?
"My… my father never believed in it. After my mother died, Christmas didn't exist at our house." This was not what he had intended to say! It must be the wine. He shouldn't drink on an empty stomach, not having eaten anything since his rather small breakfast.
Noticing the irritatingly sympathetic expression on Lupin's face, Severus directed his gaze at the chessboard and quickly went on, "To me the whole thing is nothing but a waste of time and energy. Everyone says we should be so happy at this time of year - look around yourself! Tell me people look happy to you! I see and hear more fights at Christmas than at any other time. People are tense, all busy preparing for the holiday. People are busy getting ready to go home. And even in private homes - on Christmas day people are so absorbed in making dinner and unwrapping presents that they cannot bother to spare a kind word for each other. Those who preach the 'Christmas spirit' are nothing but hypocrites."
He did not look up, and some minutes went by before Lupin spoke. "When I was small, I believed Christmas to be the most wonderful time of the year. I loved getting presents, of course, but what made it really special was something else. It was the same tradition every year, and when I had finished school and even during the war, it stayed that way. I didn't lead a very steady life after the war, but until my parents died, whenever I would come home for Christmas it was as if I had never left. My family never made a fuss about Christmas. No hectically shopping, no great festivity with many guests. What made it special was that I knew I was at home, with people who loved me."
He paused for some moments, and when he went on, his voice was very soft and quiet. "I know it's naïve, and many people don't believe in it… but I think that's what Christmas really is about. Being with your family and friends. Just enjoying their company."
Severus was unable to answer and merely kept staring at the chessboard.
When some minutes later Lupin asked him to spend the afternoon of Christmas Day with him, he found himself accepting without thinking twice.