Chapter 14 - The Wolf Within

Ten days had passed since Severus's birthday. It was late on Wednesday evening, almost midnight, and he had almost finished grading the last of the essays which he wanted to return to the Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw fifth-year class the following morning. He had had a tiresome day, since there had been accidents in most of the classes – Draco Malfoy had actually managed to melt his cauldron as well as create a three feet deep and equally wide hole in the ground of his classroom. Severus had no idea how it was possible that since the beginning of his sixth year, the boy's potions had been disastrous, to say the least. It confused Severus greatly, even more because Malfoy's essays were close to perfect, as they had always been, except for the horribly messy handwriting that had annoyed him ever since Malfoy's first year.

After classes, he had brought Lupin the Wolfsbane Potion, since tonight was the night of the full moon. As always when a transformation lay ahead, the werewolf had looked pale and edgy for the previous few days, but today he had seemed almost scared, although he had been trying to hide it. Severus was not good in reading other people's emotions, but with Lupin it had been rather obvious. It was strange -- Lupin could not possibly be frightened of his monthly transformation? He had been a werewolf even before he had attended school, he was used to it. And he had never seemed to feel particularly uncomfortable about it, as far as Severus could tell.

He had, however, not investigated further. Being a private person himself, he did not take a liking to prying. Moreover, Severus still was not sure how exactly he should behave in the other man's presence. All of this was so new and unfamiliar, and he did not want to unknowingly overstep any borders. He did not want to risk what had built between him and his colleague by asking unwanted questions, even though, as he had to admit, he was feeling rather concerned about him -- a most disconcerting experience indeed.

The evening he had spent with research in the library and some experiments in his lab, trying to improve the Imperius Potion. The first test series on Saturday had been a disaster. Severus shuddered and almost knocked over the bottle with red ink as he thought back to it. Of course, the potion had not worked, but instead had poisoned the Muggles who had been forced to drink it. None of them had survived.

The Dark Lord had been livid, but had reigned in his temper and not punished Severus immediately, knowing that this would not serve his purpose. Instead, he had ordered him to examine the corpses, as Severus had foreseen he would. He would rather have suffered the Cruciatus Curse over an extended period of time than being forced to perform this gruesome task, but of course he had had no choice. When he had become the Dark Lord's potions brewer in the first war, his master had decided that it would be beneficial if he acquired extensive medical knowledge as well, and so Severus had been tutored by a healer who had joined the Death Eaters, teaching him all he needed to know.

Although he would rather not have been forced to obtain it, his medical knowledge now proved to be useful whenever he returned injured from a summoning. If he was not too badly wounded, he could heal himself instead of having to rely on Madam Pomfrey's help. Ever since he had finally escaped the mediwitch's care fifteen years ago, when she had treated him after his release from Azkaban, he had made an effort of seeing as little of her as possible. Knowing she had only done her duty as a mediwitch, he still could not help but feel abashed to the core when thinking of the time he had spent under her care. All the countless times he had got wrapped up in flashbacks, had broken down in her presence. All those times she had had to use the Mentis Apertae Potion on him, soothing him, holding him. All those times he had shown himself utterly weak and vulnerable in front of her…

Angrily, Severus pushed aside these thoughts. That time - it had lasted for almost a year - was over! Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to direct his attention back to the wish-wash his students chose to call "essays". His expectations had not been disappointed, as he thought grimly, ten minutes later smearing the last "D" at the bottom of a parchment that – now that he had finished with it – seemed to have more red than black ink on it. This particular student would most certainly not plague him after the O.W.L. exams any longer. Satisfied at this thought, he got up and went to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Severus sighed tiredly as he stood in front of the mirror, brushing his teeth. He could not afford to displease the Dark Lord even more; he would have to spend all his free time on successfully finishing the Imperius Potion as soon as possible. The thought left a sinking feeling in his stomach. The sooner the potion would be ready for the second test series, the sooner he would have to deal once again with the horrors which went along with that. He only hoped that not too many more test series would be necessary – the better he worked, the less Muggles would have to die.

Depressing thoughts like these had done nothing to make this day more pleasant. On top of it all, Severus had a nagging headache that he could not get rid of, even though he had taken a painkilling potion in the afternoon. He knew that the headache was due to lack of sleep, and sleep alone would cure it, but this was exactly the problem. Falling asleep in the first place had recently become a highly difficult task, not to speak of actually staying asleep for longer than one or two hours.

Taking in the picture that presented itself to him in the mirror, Severus found that without the Glamour Charm he began to look more and more like a ghost. Not that he cared about his appearance anyway, but it was, to a certain extent, frightening how much he had changed since he had resumed his spying. Averting his eyes from the offending sight, he dragged himself into his bedroom to change into his nightshirt. Pathetic as it was, he truly hoped that Potter would get the opportunity to finish with the Dark Lord sooner rather than later. He was not sure how long he would be able to go on like this.

Having turned off the candles with a flick of his wand, Severus finally climbed into bed, but instead of lying down, he merely sat cross-legged and pulled the blanket over his lap. Breathing evenly, he tried to rid his mind of all the unpleasant and troubling thoughts which constantly kept imposing themselves on him.

"Clear your mind!" – how often had he commanded Potter to do so during the Occlumency lessons last year? And how often had he sneered at the boy's sheer incapacity to perform this simple task? Now Severus found that he, himself, was incapable of it as well at the moment. Instead of slowly fading away, the chaos in his mind seemed to become even bigger, louder, more and more overwhelming.

Pictures of the test series four days ago slipped into his mind, pictures he wanted to forget as soon as possible, yet knowing from experience that he would never be able to do so. During the last sixteen years, he had not been able to forget for a single day…

The children were what was worst. Looking at them and knowing they would never grow to be insufferable, annoying teenagers who caused their teachers one headache after another with their substandard homework and constant inattention… knowing their lives would end at his hands…

"Mummy… please, where's my mummy?" The girl with her head full of curly red hair was no more than five years old. She was shivering with cold in the damp dungeon, her cheeks clammy from tears, her brown eyes looking up at him wide with fear.

"Please, can I go to my mummy?"

"Yes, you may go to her," Severus replied, forcing himself to speak calmly as he thought of the equally red-haired woman that was lying in the dungeon next to this in a puddle of thrown up blood, her eyes blank and lifeless, her body already going stiff.

"Just drink this first," he continued, producing a vial of Imperius Potion and kneeling down next to the small, shivering form.

"And then I can se my mummy?" Severus almost cringed at the desperate hope in her voice.

"Yes," he ground out hoarsely. "She is already waiting for you." He felt as if he might suffocate at any moment.

He could simply have stunned the girl and forced the liquid down her throat, but doing so seemed… wrong. With great effort, he suppressed an insane chuckle at this thought; as if it would matter in the slightest – all this was about as wrong as anything could ever be.

The large eyes darted doubtfully back and forth between his face and the vial in his hand, and drawn by a sudden impulse, Severus slowly put his free arm around the narrow shoulders, causing the child to first flinch and then shyly lean into the comforting touch.

"Now drink," he ordered, putting the vial to her lips, "then you will see your mother." It was not a lie, and it obviously soothed the frightened child. More than anything, though, it made Severus loathe himself more than he had ever thought possible.

Throwing him a last frightened glance, the girl nodded, and he quickly poured the potion down her throat, feeling his own stomach give a painful twist as she swallowed.

Her expression changed from scared to disgusted at the taste, but only moments after she had emptied the vial, her face contorted into a grimace of pain and she doubled over, her small hands clutching her stomach. She whimpered and instinctively tried to hide in the adult's arms, but Severus hastily jerked his arm away from her and got to his feet, taking a step backwards. It felt obscenely wrong that the child he had just condemned to death should turn to him for comfort!

The girl had fallen to the ground and lay curled up on herself, still clutching her stomach, now again crying weakly. Mechanically, Severus activated the stopwatch on the desk nearby to see how long it would take for her to die.

Not much over a minute went by until the first convulsion shook the frail form on the ground. Her thin arms and legs were jerking uncontrollably. When finally the seizure had abated, she shakily raised herself on one elbow and looked up at Severus pleadingly.

"M-mummy? …w-want mum-my…"

Her arm gave in again, but before her head could hit the ground, Severus was by her side and had gathered her in his arms, not caring that she had begun to throw up and now blood was staining his robes everywhere. He had no soothing words for her, but held the dying child until finally the last violent convulsions abated and she went completely limp in his arms, the wide brown eyes staring at him lifelessly.

The stopwatch showed forty-two minutes and eleven seconds when at last he was able to detach his gaze from them.

Severus shook his head in a rather pathetic attempt to force the images out of his head. During the last four days, they had assailed him whenever he had allowed his mind to wander, whenever he had not strictly concentrated on his work.

"Please, can I go to my mummy?" Frightened eyes staring at him, pleading with him… the frail form in his arms wracked by spasms… the scalpel he had used on the corpse only atwo hours later…

As of their own volition, Severus' s arms began to move, wrapping themselves tightly around his body. Holding himself securely, he now began to slowly rock back and forth, once, twice, again and again, back and forth, back and forth…

Severus had done this to calm himself for as long as he could think back. Maybe it had started when he had been four years old and his father had begun to regularly lock him up in the cellar. It had helped to make the fear go away – or at least to lessen it a little – as he had been cowering in the cold darkness, sometimes for hours, never knowing when he would be released from his prison and if a beating was waiting for him outside.

He would do it when his mother and his father had been shouting at each other in the evening, not caring that their son could hear them in his room. He did not want to hear it, especially when his mother's shouts had eventually given way to cries of pain almost every time, and it had helped to shut out the world, to withdraw into himself, and to finally fall asleep.

When his mother had died shortly after his seventh birthday, it had become even more of a necessity. Willing himself not to cry, he had spent whole afternoons sitting on his bed, softly rocking himself in the attempt to soothe the pain he felt at her loss. A Snape did not cry. And Severus would not disappoint his father.

Fortunately, the beds at Hogwarts were equipped with curtains. None of his dorm-mates had ever tried to speak with the unpopular boy once he had drawn them shut, and so none of them had ever caught a glimpse at him as he had rocked himself to sleep most of the nights of his seven years at school, unable to overcome the fear of his nightmares in any other way.

Having joined the Death Eaters, he had found soon that he could not do many of the things required of him with a clear conscience. For months, the monotonous, mind-numbing movement had helped him to withdraw from the horrible images filling his mind, until finally he could take it no longer and had exposed himself to the mercy of his old headmaster.

Sometimes it seemed to him that during the week he had spent as Lucius's prisoner, this way of comforting himself had been the only thing that had grounded him to sanity. It had been like an anchor, and for hours and hours he had been cowering on the stone floor of the dungeon, solely concentrating on rocking himself, until he did no longer feel his battered body, the anguish, and the fear.

Now, sixteen years later, Severus was still every bit as pathetic as back then. Unable to take any sleeping or calming draughts, he sometimes bitterly wondered what his colleagues or even students would think if they knew that almost every evening Severus Snape, cold, arrogant, aloof Severus Snape, needed to be rocked to sleep like a frightened child.

Right now, even this did not help to completely ban the mental images.

Crimson lips in a pale, small face… crimson because it was blood that was lingering on them… her soft, curly hair, now sweaty and sticking to her forehead… small hands clinging to his robes as the shaking girl had buried her face in his chest… the sharp blade of the scalpel, slowly making its way through pale flesh…

Involuntarily letting out a hoarse, strangled sound, Severus tightened his grip around himself, his fingers digging painfully into his arms.

They had burnt the corpses after the autopsies… five men, three women, two children… "Nice fire, eh? At least they're good for something." Nott's sneering voice, his coarse face illuminated by the flickering flames…

Don't think of it any more… focus on the movement… nothing else… back… forth… back… forth… don't think… don't feel… just forget…

"M-mummy? …w-want mum-my…"

Forget, please forget…

At the same time, in a quarter in the east wing of the castle, a large wolf with greyish brown fur was pacing restlessly in front of the fireplace. A deep, guttural growl would escape his throat every so often, and his amber eyes were flickering as though a fire had been lit in them.

Remus could hear the wolf rage in the back of his mind, barely restrained by the potion he used to hold his violent instincts under control. It took all of his willpower not to let the beast inside him take control, and this was not due to any flaw in the Wolfsbane Potion. No, Remus knew all too well what had caused the wolf to grow more and more powerful during the last months. So powerful in fact, that he was not convinced at all that he would be able to hold him at bay this night. During the last full moon, it had already been an almost impossible struggle, and by the end of the night he had been completely exhausted, physically as well as emotionally.

The large canine stopped his pacing before the window, the moonlight shimmering silvery in his fur. He sat down, tossing his head back into his neck, and had Remus not cast Silencing Charms on his quarters before the transformation, the corridors of the castle would have resounded with his howling, loud and wild, full of unrestrained fury and pain.

It was tempting to let go, so tempting to just let himself be taken over by the powerful force that pushed to the surface. Ever since last summer, the full moons had become more and more difficult to endure, had become more of a torture than they had ever been. Ever since last summer. Ever since Sirius had died.
Sirius was gone, Padfoot was gone, and the wolf suffered from the loss every bit as much as Remus did. But the wolf did not reason. He did not listen to logic, did not care that indeed Remus could not have done anything to prevent Sirius from what he had done, despite of using force to restrain him at Grimmauld Place. All he did was feel. Feel the sadness, the loneliness, the pain and anger. And the guilt his human counterpart tried to suppress with logical arguments.

He jumped at this guilt, bathed in it, threw it at Remus during every full moon. He was to blame that his loved one was dead! He should have done something! He should have known! It was his fault that he was lonely now, his fault that he was hurting, his, and no one else's! He needed to pay, needed to suffer for it! The wolf wanted to take out his fury on himself, if only Remus let him do it. If only he let go.

Remus had resumed his restless wandering through the living room, from wall to wall, again and again, vainly trying to ignore the wolf, ignore the anguish, the guilt. He should have known! Should have done something! Should have been there!

The barrier that was restraining the wolf was only paper-thin by now. Remus was not as strong as he had been last month, and the wolf did not give in, did not stop. He was guilty, was weak, had failed to protect the man he loved! He deserved to be in pain, deserved to be punished for it! Desperately, he howled out his agony at the moon again, trying to let out the raging emotions in an other way. But it was no use, and only more fury welled up inside him, more grief, more pain.

And deep inside, his human part knew that the wolf was right. He was guilty. With this last clear thought, Remus finally surrendered, and sharp teeth sank deeply into flesh. The pain was a sweet relief.

At half past four in the morning, Severus finally gave up. He had slept for three hours, at the most, and this sleep had been shredded by dreams of dying people on a bare stone floor, and of large, brown eyes, wide and lifeless as they still seemed to plead with him, begging him for something that he could not do.
Those dreams had mingled with others, dreams of himself in a dungeon, regarded by cold, grey eyes, and a vicious voice, hissing something that sounded like "Happy Birthday". This made no sense at all, but filled him with a sense of dread that had almost sent him into a panic attack as he had awoken, shaking and drenched in cold sweat.

Sighing, Severus got out of bed and showered, trying to relax at least a little under the hot water. It would be another long day full of ignorant students and tiring research for the Imperius Potion. At least, he thought with a hint of relief as he buttoned his robe, he would indeed not be forced to teach Potter Occlumency again. After breakfast with Lupin ten days ago, he had visited Albus in his office and had reported what their enemy had ordered him to do. And, as he had hoped, the headmaster had announced that he, himself, would teach the boy this time, since there was no danger that the Dark Lord would try to use Potter as a tool to attack the old wizard. Therefore, the brat would have Occlumency lessons with the headmaster three times a week, for it was crucial that he learn this skill as soon as possible. Severus could not string along his master forever.

With these thoughts in mind, he finally entered his living room, wondering what he should do until breakfast in the Great Hall would be served. He still had some hours until then, and maybe he should use them to work on his tasks for the Dark Lord. Severus was already on his way to the door of his lab, when his gaze fell on something that made him reconsider his plans. Slowly, he went over to one of the bookshelves which lined the stone walls and took out two volumes, a thick and a smaller one. He then settled down on the sofa, allowing the hint of a smile to tug at his lips as he looked down at the books in his hands.

He had been more than surprised when after breakfast on Monday nine days ago, Lupin had fetched a packet that had been lying on the table in front of the fireplace and handed it to him. He had only ever received birthday presents from Albus Dumbledore, who did not seem willing to give up this frivolous tradition. This time, he had presented Severus with striped socks – red and yellow – something that established a new record in uselessness, and a small bag of sherbet lemons. Severus asked himself if the old man had paid attention to the fact that during the last sixteen years, Severus had never accepted one of the proffered sweets. But he had put the gift to good use, for it had been considerably amusing to see Lupin's puzzled face when on Friday evening Severus had produced the bag from a pocket of his robes and had asked "Sherbet lemon, Lupin?" in a most casual tone. The other man's warm laughter after this, however, had been even more pleasant.

Severus remembered how he had unwrapped the blue paper and his gaze had fallen on the title: "Geoffrey Chaucer, Canterbury Tales". He had felt pleased that Lupin had remembered his liking for the ancient literature – but his colleague seemed to have forgotten that he already possessed this book. Of course, Severus would not mention this; the fact alone that Lupin had made him a gift, and even a so considerate one, was more than enough to let a downright ridiculous amount of joy surge up in him.

Then, however, he had opened the volume on a random page and begun to read, and he had realised that Lupin had been even more considerate than he had imagined.

The queene thanketh the kyng with al hir myght,
And after this thus spak she to the knyght,
Whan that she saugh hir tyme, upon a day,
"Thou standest yet," quod she, "in swich array
That of thy lyf yet hastow no suretee.
I grante thee lyf, if thou kanst tellen me
What thyng it is that wommen moost desiren.
Be war and keep thy nekke-boon from iren!
And if thou kanst nat tellen it anon,
Yet shal I yeve thee leve for to gon
A twelf-month and a day to seche and leere
And answere suffisante in this mateere;
And suretee wol I han, er that thou pace,
Thy body for to yelden in this place."

Lupin had not simply given him a copy of the Canterbury Tales, but one in the language in which the tales had originally been written, Middle English. He then had remembered that indeed he had mentioned that he would find it quite interesting to some day read the original version. Regarding the second book, he had found it to be an introduction to Middle English history, pronunciation, grammar and vocabulary. When he finally had managed to thank the other man, he had been rewarded with a brilliant smile, and somehow this had brightened his day even more than any gift would have been able to.

Unfortunately, as much as he wanted to read the books, he had not found time to do it until now, his curriculum and work for the Dark Lord leaving him practically no time to spend on whatever kind of amusement. Now, however, at five in the morning, he decided to take the time to at least gain a brief insight in the subject. After ordering a house elf to bring him a cup of tea, Severus opened the smaller book and began to read.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Finally, the time for breakfast had arrived, and Severus made his way to the Great Hall, effectively scaring some tiny first-years as he swept though the entrance and towards the teacher's table, his usual scowl and Glamour Charm well in place. Upon arriving, he noticed that Lupin's seat was not occupied. He had expected this, for his colleague would need a day to recover from the painful and exhausting transformation he had undergone the previous night.

"Good morning," Albus greeted him as he took his seat next to the headmaster. Severus nodded in response and reached for the teapot. He was not truly hungry and would content himself with something to drink, as usual ignoring Albus's concerned comments on that fact.

"Severus," the old wizard now went on, his voice laced with obvious worry, "I must ask you to not only cover half of the Defence classes for today and tomorrow, but also at the beginning of next week."

"Why? Has anything happened?" Severus forced himself to stay calm at this announcement, but it was a most trying task. Was there anything wrong with Lupin?

The headmaster shook his head. "I do not quite know what exactly happened, or why. It seems that during the last night, Remus inflicted severe harm on himself – just like he used to do without the Wolfsbane Potion, if not worse. You know that Poppy usually has a look at him in the morning; today she found him unconscious and badly mauled. We could not ask him what happened, because he has not yet awoken."

"That's impossible!" Severus put down the teapot with a loud "thud". This and his agitated words drew the attention of several students to the teacher's table, and Albus gestured him to calm down.

"I know, it seems most strange. You did give him the potion, did you not?"

"Of course I did," Severus hissed angrily. He did not like at all the implications of this. Could he have made a mistake in brewing the potion, exhausted and overworked as he was these days? Or had Lupin not taken it? But why should he do something so stupid? Remembering the other man's odd behaviour the evening before, he suddenly was sure that the werewolf must have expected something to happen. Why had he not told anyone? Severus asked himself.

Even more than these, though, another thought was occupying his mind: He needed to see Lupin. He needed to convince himself that he was not in danger any more. Unfortunately, this would have to wait until the end of classes – something that displeased Severus greatly.

"I take it that he now is in the hospital wing?"

Albus having answered in the affirmative, Severus pushed away his cup and stood. "I will see him this afternoon. Maybe he can tell me the reason, or he has noticed something unusual that could help me altering the potion to make sure something like this does not happen again."

The last thing he saw before he strode away from the table to go to his classroom and prepare the first lesson was the merry twinkle in the headmaster's blue eyes.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Watching Severus leave the Great Hall, Albus could not help feeling pleased by how things between Remus and him were developing. On Monday evening after Severus's birthday, Remus had paid the headmaster a visit in his office, telling him that now he had found out why Severus considered it his duty to continue spying on Voldemort. He had, however, not revealed his knowledge to Albus, declaring that he did not want to betray Severus's trust even more.

Albus had smiled to himself at hearing this, since he had not the slightest objections. As much as he would like to know what exactly was driving Severus to expose himself to a torture like this, he knew that he could not do anything. The main thing was that Severus was beginning to trust Remus. He, Albus, would take a back seat and content himself with the knowledge that his child was no longer alone with his burden.

And there was even more to it than that. Although Severus had tried to conceal it, Albus had noticed that indeed he had been more than a little worried at hearing the news about Remus's condition. Smiling to himself, the old wizard began filling a bowl with porridge.

Hopefully, it would not take too long until Remus, either, was no longer alone with his troubles.

The morning crept by excruciatingly slowly. To Severus it seemed that today the students were even more thick-headed than normally, and had there been an award for idiocy to bestow upon the one whose work bore the closest resemblance to Longbottom's pathetic attempts on brewing, he would not have been able to choose between about a dozen absolutely inapt dunderheads.

And while he was glaring, scowling and flaying subdued children alive, all he could think of was Lupin. Had he or had he not taken the Wolfsbane Potion? If not – why? If yes – why had it not worked? Had it been his fault? Had he made a mistake? He could not imagine it, but what other reason could there be?
Lunch was a torture. He was not hungry, not at all, and if Albus should dare to ask him one more time if he was sure that he did "not want to at least try these downright delicious lamb chops, Severus?", he would hex him in front of the entire Great Hall!

The afternoon was worse. The first- and second-years left his classroom thoroughly terrified. How was Lupin? Albus had talked about "severe harm", and "badly mauled" – what did he mean by that? Would there be consequences? Was it worse than when there had been no Wolfsbane Potion? If only lessons were over soon!

Finally, the bell announced the end of the last lesson. It took a rather large amount of willpower to not simply storm out of the room immediately, but instead wait patiently until each and every student had cleared away their ingredients and instruments and left the classroom. Once the last one was gone, however, he, too, left the dungeons and hurried straight to the hospital wing, several students hastily jumping out of his way as they saw the dark figure in billowing robes approaching.

Before the doors of the infirmary, he finally came to a halt. What if Lupin did not want him to visit? He had been so ridiculously worried about the man – why, precisely, he had chosen not to ponder too deeply – that he had not even thought of this possibility. Oh, but this was absurd, he chided himself. If he, Severus, had been injured, Lupin would have paid him a visit, he was sure of that. It would be the kind of thing Lupin would do. So why should he not do the same? Surely Lupin would be pleased about it, and Severus liked the silly thought very much that his presence should have such an effect on his colleague.
Moreover, he needed to know what had happened, since he was entrusted with brewing the potion that was supposed to prevent such an incident from happening. Taking a deep breath, Severus opened the door and entered. The thought that he was here on business made him feel considerably calmer.

Approaching the only occupied bed of the infirmary, the sight with which he was presented made Severus's stomach clench. Lupin was lying there with his eyes closed, propped up against some pillows, a bandage soaked with crimson wrapped around his head, several nasty scratches adorning his prematurely aged features. His pyjama was not buttoned, which was why Severus could see that his chest, too, was hidden under thick bandages. Not knowing whether his colleague was sleeping or merely resting, he silently took seat on the chair beside the bed.

-.-.-.-.-.-

The sound of slow steps in the otherwise quiet infirmary made Remus wake from a light slumber. Exhausted though he was, he had not been able to truly fall asleep, his pulse beat throbbing most unpleasantly in his wounds – a sensation he had always hated with a passion. He heard the steps stopping beside the bed, and then the scratching of the chair on the floor. His eyes fluttering open, he beheld the sight of Severus Snape, looking at him with obvious concern. This caused a faint smile to steal on Remus's lips.

"Severus," he croaked, his throat sore from the strain of the previous night.

"Lupin."

He was looking better than usual, Remus thought, but this illusion was quickly destroyed, for now his colleague's outlines became blurred for some moments, during which the Glamour Charm failed to conceal his worn out appearance.

"How are you feeling?"

Remus could not help smiling more. To hear this question from the lips of Severus Snape – he would have laughed at anyone who would have predicted this to him some months ago.

"It's tolerable. Poppy has dosed me with some nice painkillers, so I barely feel anything at all." He paused to take a glass of water from the nightstand and wet his dry throat. Having put it away again, his gaze returned to Severus. "It's nice that you have come."

The other man blinked, irritated, but then replied levelly "It was my potion, after all, which seemingly has failed to work properly. And," he added after some moments, now sounding a little confused, "I wanted to know how you are."

Remus smiled again. It felt more than only "nice" that Severus was indeed concerned about his well-being. "Thank you. I appreciate it very much. It can become quite boring here."

Severus nodded curtly, obviously deciding to change the subject as he went on "You did take the Wolfsbane Potion, didn't you?"

"Yes, of course I did." He saw Severus's expression darken at his reply.

"I do apologise, then. Obviously, I must have made a mistake in brewing it. I don't recall it, but I assure you that it will not –"

"There was nothing wrong with the potion," Remus interrupted tiredly. By Merlin, how he wished it was nothing more than that!

"There must have been," a now visibly confused Severus insisted. "I cannot think of any reason why it should simply fail working, except for a mistake in its preparation."

Remus sighed, closing his eyes. It was time to tell now, wasn't it? He had feigned sleep when Albus had come to see him after breakfast as well as after lunch, and he had managed to get rid of Poppy by promising her that he would talk to the headmaster as soon as he would visit again. Opening his eyes again, he was once more presented with the sight of a severely concerned Severus. Finally, he could bring himself to speak.

"I can assure you that the potion was perfect as always. This has nothing to do with it. It's about… Sirius."

-.-.-.-.-.-

"Black?" Severus was utterly bemused. This was making no sense at all. What could he possibly have to do with it? The man had been dead for months now.

"Yes," Lupin nodded, the pain edged in his features becoming more prominent. "Ever since he died, it's been… difficult to keep the wolf under control, even with the help of the potion. The wolf is grieving, and he's becoming stronger every month."

Severus frowned. He had never heard of anything like this before. Separation from the person a werewolf loved causing the wolfish part to overcome the potion that was restraining him? It should be impossible, for all he knew.

"Why haven't you told anyone?" he demanded louder than he had intended. "I might have been able to alter the potion. There was no need for… this." He waved a hand loosely in the direction of the bandage around the other man's head, feeling annoyed by what he had learned. Lupin should have informed him!

-.-.-.-.-.-

Remus was mildly surprised by Severus's reaction, and, as he realised in astonishment, pleased that his colleague seemed so upset at the thought of him being hurt. Was it not strange? He had not been able to bear anyone being concerned about him during the last months, but he had no objections when it was Severus. On the contrary – where he had felt cornered and almost threatened by other people's concerned and sympathetic behaviour, he now felt almost… cared for. Suddenly, it seemed that talking about it might not be impossible.

"I didn't want to talk about it." He closed his eyes once more, concentrating on the words. "I hoped I would be able to handle it on my own. You see… I think it could only happen because I… I feel guilty for not having prevented him from going to the Ministry that night." His voice had become softer with every word, and the throbbing of his pulse beat in his wounds seemed have to intensified painfully. "I know it's irrational, but the wolf doesn't, he just feels. He needs to blame someone. He needs to punish someone for his loss. Only that this someone is he, himself."

-.-.-.-.-.-

Severus did not know what to say. Lupin feeling guilty for Black's death? It was irrational indeed. He could not have done anything to prevent it! How should he have known the irresponsible mutt would just rush off, not caring about the danger he got himself into? He had not been Black's nanny, after all.

"Still, you should have informed someone. Albus, or me. This is dangerous!" Severus did not even want to think about what could have happened. A grown werewolf taking out all his anguish and guilt on himself – Lupin was lucky he had gotten off this lightly. "How could you be so careless? You cannot possibly have thought you deserved it?"

The sharply uttered words were out before he could think twice, and only a second later he could have bitten his tongue off for not taking better care. Lupin's eyes snapped open as his hands clenched tightly around the sheets, he pressed his lips together to a thin line, and his already ashen face paled even more. Staring at him, Severus could not help thinking how fragile he was looking right now, not physically, but in a way he, himself, knew all too well.

He felt himself be overcome by the desire to do something to comfort his colleague, but he did not know what. Slowly, he reached out to touch one of the hands still clutching the sheets, only to draw back again. He could not bring himself to do this, as much as he wanted to. Not yet.

"I'm sorry, Lupin," he finally managed, feeling rather pathetic for not being capable of doing more.

"No, it's okay. It had to be said sooner or later, I guess. It's just… I cant... I don't know."

Severus felt disgustingly helpless. He was not the right person for this. Albus should be in his place, or maybe Madame Pomfrey; someone who was used to this kind of conversation. Certainly not he. Sighing, he buried his head in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. The headache that had not vanished in the course of the day was becoming stronger again.

"You're not looking too well, either. You haven't slept that much, have you?"

Not looking up, Severus simply shook his head. He did not even think of the fact that the Glamour Charm should not have Lupin allowed to see it.

"Dreams again?"

Just two softly spoken words, but enough to make his whole body tense. Severus raised his gaze to face the other man.

"I was summoned on Saturday. Do you remember what I told you about testing the Imperius Potion?"
Lupin nodded slowly.

"They died, as I told you they would." He seemed to choke on the words. "The children were what was worst, a boy and a girl. She was only five years old!" His hands had begun shaking, and he clenched them to fists in his lap.

"Isn't it absurd that it felt wrong to just force her to drink? Instead, I tried to convince her, even tried to soothe her. As if it had mattered!" Suddenly, he needed to tell, needed to get this off his chest. "She asked for her mother. I… I told her she could see her after drinking the potion. That she was… waiting for her." He dropped his gaze to the floor. "The woman was already dead." Telling it instead of just remembering made him feel even more disgusted with himself.

"It worked. She drank… and then she died. She died in my arms… hell, Lupin, she was taking comfort in me, who had just poisoned her!"

And those eyes.

"I cannot forget her. Or the others." His voice was a mere whisper by now. "I would be glad if it was only my father of whom I dream."

Finally, after some minutes of silence, Lupin spoke. "Thank you for coming, Severus. I'm glad it was you with whom I could talk about it."

Looking up at the man in the bed, Severus knew that Lupin meant what he had said. And he also realised that this acceptance meant more to him than he would ever have imagined.

"I will find a solution concerning the Wolfsbane. That's a promise."