A/N: Thanks and gratitude to SortingHat47 for putting up with me and my infinite questions that always seem to start out with, "What if…?"; and for Zarathustra the beta, who certainly doesn't deserve to have to deal with so many misplaced commas…
I lift a glass of the best Australian wine in toast to remuslives23 and Wolviesfan, who keep me honest (and more importantly, help me keep the characters honest!) and provide me with Remus/Thewlis pictures! They are truly inspirational!
Disclaimer: Sigh. The characters are not mine. They're JKRowling's.
(And I STILL damn page 661 of the American version of Deathly Hallows…)
Chap. 20: Letting the Chips Fall
Tuesday, 24 September, 1985—9:27 a.m.
The person that Albus Dumbledore wanted to see was standing at the end of the fourth floor hallway, gazing out of a window that looked out on the courtyard below. With a smile, he made his way to the young man and leaned on the windowsill beside him.
"I was pleased to see you at breakfast today," the Headmaster said. "I am sorry I wasn't able to stay longer to talk to you."
Remus turned his back to the window so he could focus on the older man. "I doubt Snape would say the same."
"Ah, yes, that's true," Dumbledore agreed regretfully, remembering how his Potions master had slammed his cutlery down and stalked out of the Great Hall the very second after he had eaten his last bite, glaring at the werewolf. "Professor McGonagall told me about what happened yesterday afternoon."
Remus was silent, obviously waiting for the Headmaster's next comment.
"I was pleased that you were able to protect Mr Wheeler from harm," Dumbledore said. "Apparently Mr Burkes did admit to what spell he was using, and it would have been very bad had it struck."
"Not that Snape believed that," Remus said under his breath.
"He does now. Mr Burkes apparently delivered a full confession to him and Professor McGonagall after you left them yesterday."
Remus' eyebrows rose. "He did?"
A small smile appeared on the Headmaster's face. "Regardless of what some Gryffindors may think, there are some wizards from Salazar's House that do have honour."
The young wizard shook his head with a rueful smile. "I suppose I'm guilty of doing exactly what Snape accused me of." He turned and looked back out the window. "So, what happens to Burkes now?"
"He was given several weeks of detention and has lost his Quidditch privileges. As he was a rather skilled Keeper, I believe the Slytherins will take that loss quite badly." Dumbledore leaned a little closer to Remus. "If I were you, I would not mention this fact to Severus when Minerva is around. The Gryffindors' chances of taking the Quidditch Cup have been increased greatly by Mr Burkes' removal from the Slytherin team. She is taking this with rather unsportsmanlike glee, to Severus' chagrin."
Remus snickered. "You realize I'm going to have to bring it up now."
"I would not expect any less," the older wizard replied, with a chuckle of his own.
They stood silently for a moment or two, just looking out over the courtyard and the grounds beyond.
It took Albus by surprise when Remus abruptly said, "I didn't get sick."
"I'm sorry?" Dumbledore turned slightly to peer intently at the younger man's face.
"Yesterday, when I did that Protego. I didn't get sick."
"Ah."
"I don't know whether it was because I didn't have time to think about it, or if it was because I was just worried about that boy, but whatever it was, I did something magical without getting sick."
"That's very good news," Dumbledore said, smiling. "Have you tried anything else since then?"
Remus shook his head slightly.
"Maybe you should try something simple," the Headmaster said. "A simple levitation spell, perhaps."
Instantly, the werewolf's face changed, becoming more guarded and almost fearful. Before Albus could say anything, Remus swallowed hard and shook his head again, the expression fading to one that was more neutral. "Not that one. I'll try — something else."
"Alastor did say he wanted to try to get you to the Shrieking Shack to check the wards there," the Headmaster said. "Maybe you could try some of those charms. Alastor seemed quite impressed with the ones you used at the Alatzas' estate."
Remus did seem to consider it before nodding once. "I think maybe I could do that."
"Good." Dumbledore put a hand on the younger man's shoulder and squeezed gently. "Just be careful going out there and coming back. I wouldn't want Madam Pomfrey angry with us because you overtaxed your strength."
"I can't get out of —," Remus seemed to catch himself, "— can't get better if I don't push myself," he muttered, his eyes focused on an owl stretching its wings.
"Still, Poppy's wrath is not to be taken lightly," Albus pointed out. He sighed. "I suppose I should go back to my office. I rather expect the father of Mr Burkes to send an angry note about his son's punishment. Knowing him as I do, I fear it may even be a Howler."
"Considering the spell his son was trying to use was Sectumsempra, I don't see how he could argue with you," Remus said.
"You might be surprised at the lengths a parent will go to defend a child," the Headmaster mused. "Especially when the child is being punished for what the parent has taught them. So, if you'll excuse me…"
He turned to go back up the hallway, but Remus cleared his throat and said, "Headmaster —"
"Yes, my boy?"
The younger man was staring at the floor, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his robes. "I've thought a good bit about what you said yesterday, and I owe you an apology. You and Moody. I know you're trying to help me, but it's not easy for me to just — accept that. I'm sorry."
Dumbledore smiled, nodded his acceptance, and then continued on to his office.
12:22 p.m.
The students were used to visitors appearing at the school. They weren't quite prepared for the sight that was Alastor Moody. Several students knew who he was, however, and before the Auror had walked the length of the Great Hall, whispers of his identity and his skill were carried up and down the lengths of the tables by the students eating lunch.
The man who had defended Paul Wheeler the day before was with Moody. When he had appeared at breakfast that morning, someone remembered the name 'Lupin,' but there was little else that anyone could offer about who he was or why he was there. Satisfied that he had defended a Ravenclaw against a Slytherin — and against the much-maligned Professor Snape — the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws seemed to take to him, offering greetings to him as he limped past them to get to the Staff Table. He smiled pleasantly at them, though he seemed surprised at their welcome.
Professor McGonagall was just leaving the table as Moody and Lupin approached, so the Auror appropriated the chair she had just vacated, which happened to be to the left of the Headmaster. Remus nearly collapsed into the only other chair available: to the far right, between the Muggle Studies and Astronomy professors.
As he filled his plate, Moody leaned toward Dumbledore and whispered, "He did fine. Better than I thought he would. And he apologized for the hippogriff-sized chip on his shoulder too."
The Headmaster continued munching on his vinegar-drenched chips. Without glancing at either the Auror or the 'he' in question, he asked quietly, "Was there any sign of illness?"
"Well, Apparition didn't go so well. But he only had to stop a few times while we were reworking the wards. I don't know if it was because of the magic or if it was because he was back in that house." Moody shook his head. "Have you seen what he's done to that place?"
"Yes," Dumbledore replied curtly. "But it was what I had expected."
The other man took a bite of fish. "How could it be what you had expected? You have werewolves tear your house apart often?"
"Before Remus came here, John Lupin showed me the inside of the shed that they had built for his transformations. He wanted to make sure I knew what precautions I needed to take. I also think he wanted to give me one last chance to refuse his son."
Moody's magical eye swirled dizzyingly around in its socket. "Did you ever reconsider?"
"Oh, there were times when I wondered if we had done enough to keep him and the other students safe. There were times when I worried that Madam Pomfrey would not have the ability to heal him of his wounds." The Headmaster took a drink of juice, and carefully set the glass back down. "But I never regretted having him here, if that is what you're asking."
"But you haven't invited another werewolf to attend Hogwarts," Moody noted.
"No, I haven't," Dumbledore offered no further explanation, and the Auror let the subject drop.
Sunday, 29 September—8:03 p.m.
Remus threw open the trapdoor into the Shrieking Shack and paused there for a moment.
"Is everything all right, Lupin?"
The werewolf nodded, and then, realizing that Moody probably couldn't see the movement, said, "Yes, I'm fine. Sorry." He pulled himself into the house and shifted aside so the grizzled Auror could follow him.
"What time did you say the moon comes up tonight?" Moody asked.
"Sometime around midnight," Remus replied.
The Auror muttered, "Lumos," and the light from his wand revealed a somewhat curious expression on his face. "Do you somehow know when the moon will rise? Or do you need all the charts and shite?"
"I can tell it's going to happen within a few hours. As it gets closer, I feel it more. I'm able to give anyone a good ten minute warning before I transform." He sat down in a chair that Moody had repaired when they had come here to reset the wards, and continued, "I still check and double-check the lunar charts though."
"Four hours seems like a long time to sit out here alone," the Auror commented.
"I suppose it does to some people." Remus shrugged. "You get used to it."
Moody transfigured a chair out of a small table that had been one of the werewolf's first and most frequent chew toys. "I don't have anything better to do for an hour or so. I'll keep you company."
"You don't have to."
"I know I don't have to," the Auror grumbled. "Gallopin' gargoyles! You think I'd stay here with a grouchy werewolf if I didn't want to?"
Remus let Moody lead the conversation while he rubbed his leg. He had done a lot of walking in the past few days, trying to strengthen it enough that the wolf wouldn't find it troublesome. He knew if the wolf had difficulty in walking or moving, it would become frustrated, which would lead to more self-inflicted injuries. While Remus still walked with a pronounced limp, he could at least walk without a cane for short distances. Since the wolf had three other legs, he hoped it wouldn't be aggravated by any lack of mobility in the fourth.
"… And then that damned Scrimgeour blasted a hole in the wall…"
Remus smiled at the older man's enthusiasm for the story, and at the lack of enthusiasm for his fellow Auror. "That no doubt scared the woman out of her mind."
"Screamed like a banshee," Moody affirmed. "So then, Shacklebolt went running into the other room…"
It had been a long week. Madam Pomfrey had been trying to ease him away from the Sleeping Draught that she had been giving him to control his nightmares by giving him half doses. As a result, even though Remus had fallen into bed exhausted every night, he continued to have dreams that would bring him to full consciousness at least two or three times each night. The grip of the full moon on his senses and body hadn't helped. As a result, for the past two days, he had been nervous and edgy — more so than usual during this time in the lunar cycle. And he was tired; exhausted, really.
He wished he could ask the wolf to just curl up in a corner and sleep.
His body was suddenly taken over by an inarticulate, powerful sense of longing, and he doubled over moaning softly. So soon… Too soon. It's going to be bad tonight.
"Lupin." A rough hand shook him.
"I'm fine," he managed to whisper. "I'll be fine."
It took a moment before he could pull himself together to sit up. Moody was looking at him with a mixture of scepticism and concern.
"Maybe you should leave now," Remus suggested. It was all he could do to stay in the chair. If Moody weren't here, he'd be able to pace and shuffle about freely, hopefully soothing the restlessness that surged through him.
"I can stay —" the Auror began.
Remus swallowed hard to prevent himself from the growl or the groan that was rising from his throat. He wasn't sure which it was, but neither one would be appreciated and both would cause worry. "Please, Alastor, go," he said, trying to soften the harshness in his tone. "I need to be by myself."
Alastor Moody stared at him for a moment and then nodded. "I think that might be a good idea." He cleared his throat noisily. "I'll be back for you in the morning."
Remus gave him a grunt in acknowledgment, not bothering to watch him leave. His temples were throbbing now, and he massaged them with his fingertips. He could almost hear the moon whispering to him, asking him to come to her, telling him he belonged to her and only her…
He'd been battered emotionally and damaged physically enough in the past few months. He wasn't strong enough to resist her. With a scream that ended in a howl, he gave himself up to her.
Wednesday, 2 October—6:15 p.m.
Moody stared at him. "Have you slept at all since I saw you on Monday?"
"Some," Remus answered curtly.
"How's your leg?"
The werewolf shot a disgusted look down at the bandaged limb. "Infected. It's getting better, but you should have seen it yesterday. I didn't even know pus came in that colour."
"How soon until you're on your feet again?"
Remus sighed. "Hopefully tomorrow. Gods, even if she tells me to wait until Friday, I might still get up tomorrow. I can't stand lying around like this, like I'm just waiting to die."
It looked like the Auror might make another comment, but instead, he held out a large envelope for Remus to take.
"What's this?"
"It's the agreement with Bentley and Parsons. I'll need you to sign it, and put your Gringotts vault number on it so they can deposit the money for you."
Remus started to open the envelope, but Moody stopped him by putting his hand over Remus'. "Lupin, we need to talk."
He sat down in the chair next to the bed and leaned his forearms over his legs. "Parsons made a rather serious allegation and I need to know if it's true."
The werewolf felt the man's tension. This wasn't going to be good. At all.
"I should start this by telling you that I decided that the amount you're getting wasn't enough. I thought I might be able to get more out of those bastards. I was going to squeeze every last Knut that I could from them for you," Moody said. "And Bentley might have paid more, until Parsons opened his mouth. He said that they should be reimbursed for the loss of two creatures that died while they were under your care."
Remus' heart stopped beating. "What two creatures?" he asked, his tongue feeling thick and heavy.
"A mermaid and a centaur."
"Gods," Remus whispered. The envelope slipped out of his suddenly nerveless fingers onto his lap.
"What happened?" Moody's voice was very quiet.
"He didn't say?" Remus asked. He gripped the blanket in his fists until his knuckles whitened.
"I want to hear from you what happened," the Auror replied, sidestepping the question.
"The mermaid was dying when I got there," Remus said, trying not to let his voice shake. "She wasn't there by choice either. She wanted to go back home. The tank was a mess, and they weren't giving her enough of the right food. I couldn't do much to help her. I —" He stopped, thought deeply for a moment then continued, "I don't remember much about when she died. I just know that she did."
"How about the centaur?"
It was as if something reached inside Remus' chest and squeezed his heart. "Libertas — the centaur — had been there for five years. He was dying too. They just didn't know it."
"Bentley says you killed him with magic."
And there it was. The accusation — the truth of it — was like a sword right through Remus' gut, sending agony into every nerve through his body. He tried to inhale and suddenly found himself unable to take a breath.
"Did you kill him?" Moody's voice was incredulous and if Remus were capable of processing it all, he might have laughed at how shocked the Auror was. As it was, however, he was fighting to keep from suffocating with the brutal suddenness of this.
"Lupin?"
He closed his eyes so he couldn't see the encroaching darkness should he decide to pass out from lack of oxygen. He felt a tentative touch on his arm and he wrenched himself away. The motion jogged his paralyzed chest muscles, and he gulped in a lungful of air.
"Damn it, you mean Parsons is right?"
"There was — more to it — than that," Remus gasped.
"But you did kill the centaur."
"Fuck!" He needed something to throw, something to hit — something to bite, something to rip apart with his teeth or claws… He wanted blood…
He growled as calloused fingers gripped his chin and turned his face so that the man in the room with him could look into his eyes. He saw a startled look appear on the grizzled man's face, and then the man whispered something that his mind didn't comprehend. The man suddenly jerked away, his wand coming up at the same time, and Remus felt a spell slam in to his body, sending him deep into unconsciousness.
8:15 p.m.
Severus came to a complete standstill. For Moody and the Headmaster to look so serious, something must be wrong. He did his best to melt back into the shadows and strained his ears for any hint of what they were discussing.
"... Stun him, Alastor?"
"You have a castle full of children here, Albus! I couldn't take the chance –"
"He can't even get out of bed!" Dumbledore sounded uncharacteristically frustrated.
"If the wolf is coming through, he's going to have the strength to go with it. There's no telling what he'd be capable of doing in that state."
"But to Stun him…"
"What other choice did I have?" The Auror demanded harshly.
"You could have tried to calm him down," the Headmaster replied. "If you just would have taken a minute to —"
"I'm not you, Albus. I've been in too many situations where it's better to Stun first and ask questions later."
"You knew how close it was to the full moon. You knew he was still tired and hurting. Why did you bring up the death of that centaur now?"
"Because I didn't think I'd be getting the answers that I was getting!" Moody snapped. "And he's always had better control —"
"These are rather unusual circumstances, though, Alastor!" The Headmaster began to rub his forehead, something that Severus knew was a gesture of extreme irritation.
"He'll get over this. Bloody hell, Albus, I just Stunned him! I didn't Imperius him or Crucio him —"
"You might as well have!" snapped Dumbledore. He took a deep breath as if trying to bring his temper under control. He must have succeeded, because when he spoke again, it was quietly, though forcefully. "He's having difficulty with his control of the Darkness that is within him. You should have given him the chance to fight it, to conquer it. He was upset with us, Alastor, because we took choices out of his hands. Granted, they were necessary choices, or things that we knew were important for his well-being, but this…" He shook his head. "This has shaken him badly."
"Remus is made of stronger stuff than you're giving him credit for," Moody grumbled.
"If he was made of 'stronger stuff,' why didn't you give him the chance to prove that?" the Headmaster countered.
"Gods!" the Auror threw his hands in the air. "There is no talking to you about this." He half-turned, and froze as he spied Severus in the shadows. "Snape," he spat, in both warning and greeting.
Dumbledore turned. "Severus?"
The Potions master knew they would never continue their interesting conversation with him there, so there was no point in pursuing it. "I wondered if I could talk to you about that idiot, Jonathan Blotts. He has just turned in another substandard essay, and —"
The Headmaster sighed. "Later, Severus. I need to deal with another situation right now."
Severus couldn't help himself. "We have a responsibility to a student—a current student—who is having problems. I need assurances that something is going to be done to help him."
Moody grunted something that sounded suspiciously like an order for Severus to do something anatomically impossible. Dumbledore, however, straightened and looked right into the younger man's dark eyes. "I will discuss this with you later, Severus. Please excuse us."
Obviously dismissed, there was nothing the Potions master could do but turn around and head back to his rooms.
Saturday, 5 October—8:04 p.m.
"No, Mr Lupin, not tonight."
Surprised, Remus looked up at the matron. "Why not?"
"The potion for dreamless sleep that I've been giving you has a tendency to become addicting. You know that."
"Yes, but…"
"You've had it almost every night for several weeks. Even considering I've tried to give you half dosages, you have far exceeded the recommended amount and the recommended time frame for safe usage. I cannot give you any more of it."
"Not even half?" She noticed that his voice trembled the tiniest bit as he asked her the question.
"No, I'm sorry." She hurriedly packed away an empty vial that had contained pain potion. "Now, I have to go see to a young lady who did some considerable damage to her face when she was trying to charm away her freckles. I will see you in the morning."
She pretended not to hear his mumbled, "If I make it until then."
Monday, 7 October—1:52 p.m.
Lupin limped into the Potions classroom and leaned against the wall, hands in pockets. The left side of his mouth drew up into a sardonic smile. "I was listening to the kids as they left. They love your class, Severus."
The last two students in the room, who were busy cleaning up an unfortunate mistake, glanced up at the newcomer and then at the Potions professor.
"They do not take potions as seriously as they ought," Severus said, addressing his words to the two boys. "They do not realize that I can teach them how to create fortune, or fame—or death."
Noticing how the boys' eyes widened as Snape spoke, Lupin rubbed his chin thoughtfully with a long forefinger. "You know, you ought to tell them that."
Severus gave him a sharp look. "You cannot just tell children that."
Lupin pushed himself away from the wall. "Oh, I don't know. Something like that would pique their interest. It would give them a reason to take it seriously."
"I hardly think you are in any position to tell me how to teach my classes." Severus turned and snapped at the two boys, "Have you finished cleaning up that mess yet?"
"Y-y-yes, sir," stammered one of the boys, dropping his textbook on the floor.
Snape scowled, noticing that Lupin was moving deeper into the room, and was smiling openly. "Then leave," the Potions master ordered.
The two boys tripped several times over their own feet getting out of the classroom.
Severus watched them go; Lupin, however, did not. He was making his way between the tables, letting his fingertips trail along the tops. He stopped in front of one table, and from there, Severus saw his eyes drift to various points in the room. He knew what Lupin was seeing: Pettigrew at the spot next to him; Black and Potter at the table diagonally from them—and Lily two tables ahead…
"What is your purpose, Lupin?" he asked, gruffly.
The other man blinked and shook his head a bit as if to clear it. "My purpose? Specifically or in general? Because I've got to admit that, in general, I'm still trying to figure that out."
"How my heart bleeds for you," Snape said tonelessly.
The left side of Lupin's mouth hitched upward again. "I knew that it would. I'm touched."
There was a long silence while Snape carefully sorted through some essays. He watched Lupin surreptitiously as the other man continued limping around the classroom, stopping to look at the jarred specimens. "And specifically?" Severus pressed, suddenly curious in spite of himself. There had to be a reason why Lupin was here…
"Specifically? Well, now, that —" Lupin drew in a deep breath. "I was wondering if you had any Sleeping Draught lying around."
"Why not ask Madam Pomfrey?"
"I did." Lupin made his way up the aisle until he was at the worktable in front of the professor's desk. There, he seated himself on one of the stools, and folded his hands together on the surface of the table. "She refused to give it to me."
Surprised at the man's brazen honesty, Severus took a moment to form his next question: "And what, may I ask, would make you think that I would supply you with it?"
"Because you wouldn't give a damn if I got addicted to a Sleeping Draught, or if I chased it down with aconite." Lupin replied, with an almost charming smile.
"She said you are becoming addicted?" Snape asked sharply.
Lupin raised his chin and looked at the ceiling. "Well, she didn't quite say that in as many words…"
"But she implied it."
"Of course." Lupin shrugged. His eyes met Snape's. "It's an addictive substance."
Severus couldn't believe he was having this conversation. Lupin, of all people, asking for a potion that he was in danger of becoming addicted to? Lupin, the Gryffindor prefect? It was beyond belief. Just out of a sense of retribution, he should bloody well just hand the potion over to Lupin — a whole week's worth. But, his sense of responsibility made him hesitate.
"Why do you need it?" he finally asked.
"Because I can't sleep," Lupin said, almost flippantly.
"If it's because of pain, there —"
The werewolf looked away and hunched his shoulders. "It's not the pain. I can handle that."
"Then why do you need it?"
"Why do you care?" Lupin suddenly snapped, his eyes again meeting Snape's. "I'd think you'd be glad to give it to me, and consider it my own problem if I did get addicted."
"Oh, yes. I want your eventual decline and death set on my doorstep," Snape said dryly. "The Headmaster and Moody would be so pleased with me."
"Since when do what they think matter to you, especially when it comes to me?" Lupin shot back.
"Since when does what they think not matter to you?" Severus could give back what he'd been served — and more. "After all they have done to help you, I would think you might consider what they would think or feel if you as good as killed yourself."
Lupin crossed his arms on the tabletop and rested his chin on top of them. "That's not — exactly — my intention."
"But if it happens?" prompted Severus.
The werewolf was quiet for several seconds. "They'd feel terrible about it, and think there was something they could have done — it's all the same when someone dies, no matter who or why. And then they'll get over it. But, honestly, it isn't my intention."
"And what about me?" Snape asked quietly. "The one who had provided you with the means to do away with yourself?"
Lupin pushed himself up, obviously agitated. "Oh, hells, Severus. One fucking dose of Sleeping Draught is not going to kill me."
"It could be the one dose that pushes you into an addiction."
"I knew better than to come here," Lupin said under his breath. He turned and started to limp back between the desks toward the door.
Severus knew Lupin hadn't meant his words to be heard, but the acoustics of the place worked against him. "Then why did you come?" he asked quietly.
Lupin stopped. His back was still to Snape, so the Potions master couldn't see his face, but the tension in the man's shoulders was obvious. Slowly, the werewolf turned. "I suppose I thought —" He took a deep breath and practically whispered the rest: "— that you'd understand."
He thought I'd understand? Understand what? Needing the Sleeping Draught so badly that you can't wait for the next dose? No… Needing it to erase the names and the faces and the voices of those who suffered — and sometimes died — at your hands? Needing it to — what does he know? Severus also inhaled deeply. What is it that I'd understand, more than anyone else? Legilimency would tell him quickly and precisely what Lupin knew and was thinking. But as Severus focused on the blue eyes of the man in front of him, he knew that Legilimency was completely unnecessary: he could clearly see and feel Lupin's grief — and his guilt.
And then his thoughts and things that he and Dumbledore had learned from Lupin, as well as the conversation he had heard between the Headmaster and Moody, made a connection. The names of those who suffered and died — at your hands — and his… Snape kept his voice as non-threatening as possible as he made a leap of logic: "You cannot escape what happened with Libertas."
The blood drained from Lupin's face instantly, and he involuntarily grabbed at the edge of the nearest table.
In the very next instant, however, a smile reappeared on his face, though the gleam of shock and self-loathing in his eyes made it a parody of his usual inane, pleasant one. "Damned leg," he said hoarsely.
Severus ignored the man's pathetic attempt at an excuse. "A Sleeping Draught will not make one's inner demons disappear, Lupin. You know that."
The smile faded again, but Snape could see something flicker in those eyes… It would be so easy — one quick word, and his mind would be laid open to me… One word, and I would know everything that Dumbledore and Moody have been fighting to learn…
"Yes," Lupin finally said. "I do know that."
But he didn't move. He didn't leave.
"Well?" Severus finally prompted.
"Haven't you ever wanted those 'inner demons' to just shut up?" Lupin asked quietly. "Haven't you ever wanted to lie down and not fight with them and with yourself?" He took a step closer to the Potions master — not away — and Severus suddenly felt uneasy.
The werewolf continued speaking. "Did you ever wake up and realize suddenly that you had never been asleep? That the voices aren't just in your dreams, they're in your head, in your memory — and they won't go away?"
Severus licked suddenly dry lips. "Lupin, it sounds as if you need much more than a Sleeping Draught. There are Healers who deal with this sort of thing..."
"What if you don't want them to go away completely?" Lupin asked, taking several more steps nearer. His voice was scarcely more than a whisper now, but he was so close that Severus could hear every word easily. "What if the voices — those inner demons — are all you have left of those you loved more than anything?"
"Lupin, I do not want to hear this…"
"What if it was Lily's voice you heard in your head?"
The werewolf's question pierced Severus' heart. How did he know…?
And suddenly, Severus realized: Lupin thought he would understand because of Lily.
Had Lily told James of her childhood friendship with Severus, and he had relayed that information to the Marauders? Or had she told Lupin herself? And now, the werewolf had guessed — correctly, Severus was horrified to realize — that Lily still spoke to the Potions Master in his dreams, and in his waking hours…
"Lupin, I think you should leave." His voice lacked the strength and volume he knew it should have to be effective.
"Why?" the other man countered. "Because you know what I'm talking about? Throw me out because you hate me, Severus. Throw me out because of what I am, and what happened that night under the Whomping Willow. But don't you dare throw me out just because I know you hear Lily as much as I do—and we both fucking know I'm right!"
For the first time in his life, Severus became aware of how intimidating Remus Lupin could be in his human form. This was not the Gryffindor prefect who knuckled under to Potter and Black. This was something more, forged from long years of war, grief, and pain. And he is right. Merlin's beard, he is right…
But he'd be damned before letting the werewolf know that. He drew himself up as he collected his words: "I am not throwing you out because you think you are right. I am throwing you out because you want something that I cannot — and will not — provide to you."
"Liar," hissed Lupin. And as if he knew how deeply it would cut, how badly it would hurt, the werewolf added, "You're tossing me out because you're a bloody, damned coward."
Severus' lips twisted into a snarl, and he swiftly drew his wand, aiming it straight at Lupin's chest. But just as he muttered the first syllable of a particularly nasty and bloody curse, he realized that Lupin hadn't moved.
The Potions Master silenced himself, though he kept his wand aimed at the defenceless werewolf.
Lupin hadn't moved. He hadn't even tried to dodge behind a table to avoid whatever Severus was going to do to him, and surely he'd have known that his words would have motivated Snape into acting.
Unless that was what he had been counting on.
Severus knew one of Lupin's strengths had been defensive magic. He had seen and heard and known of it from their years at Hogwarts — and beyond. There had been very few Death Eaters who had been able to breach Lupin's defences in battle. He and Black had been a formidable team: Black attacking while Lupin protected them both…
And Lupin had made no attempt to defend himself.
Severus slowly lowered his wand. His dark eyes met the werewolf's blue ones. "I will not be the cause of your death, Lupin," he finally said. "Go find some of your precious Gryffindor courage and slice your wrists open, or drown yourself, or go nibble on some wolfsbane, but do not involve me in your decision to commit suicide."
The damned werewolf didn't even bat an eyelash. "I never thought you'd resist the temptation quite so well."
"So you admit you were trying to goad me into — killing you?" Severus asked, nearly aghast that the man had planned this so carefully — and nearly succeeded.
Lupin shrugged. "If it happened, it happened."
"You'd put me into Azkaban for that!"
Again the werewolf's shoulders rose and fell. "Knowing what I am, I'm sure they would have made excuses for you. They'd have probably given you the Order of Merlin for ridding the world of another pest."
Interestingly enough, Lupin was probably right. Still, Severus wasn't going to let this go. "Moody would never accept that. Neither would the Headmaster."
"They'd protect you. Or rather, Dumbledore would. And he'd get Alastor to let it go as well."
"You would do this to me after Black did this to you? Try to set someone innocent up for murder?"
That reached through several layers of emotional scarring: the werewolf blinked and looked away. "Honestly, Severus, I thought you'd be grateful for the chance to get rid of me, once and for all." He suddenly smiled ruefully and met Severus' gaze again. "I was wrong."
"You are emotionally and mentally disturbed, Lupin. You need a Healer —"
Lupin was already shaking his head, but he said nothing.
"You have been through much in the past few months," Severus said, begrudgingly admitting the truth of it. "You are not thinking — right."
The werewolf inhaled deeply and leaned his left hip against the worktable next to him, taking the weight off his injured leg. "You think this is all about what's happened at the carnival?"
"I think it is a large part of it," Severus said slowly.
Lupin stared at him for a moment, then suddenly turned and started hobbling away.
What in the name of…? Is that it? "Lupin?"
The werewolf stopped, half-turned, and looked at him with a smile on his face. "Changed your mind about the Sleeping Draught?"
"You know I cannot do that."
Lupin shook his head and began walking again, saying over his shoulder, "You just won't do anything to help me, will you?"
"If I had really wanted to help you by killing you, I'd have given you mercy when you asked for it at the carnival," Severus remarked.
If he had wanted to shake Lupin out of his annoying neutrality, he couldn't have chosen a better phrase. And he hadn't even intended it that way.
Lupin spun around quickly, but in doing so, his weak leg buckled, pitching him to the stone floor. He pushed himself up on his hands and stared in shock at the Potions Master. "What — when did I — you…" He finally gave up any attempt at coherent speech and let himself fall flat on the floor again, hiding his face in his arms. "Shit!"
Severus' eyebrows rose.
Neither man moved for several heartbeats.
Finally, Severus cleared his throat. "Lupin, as much as I hate to disturb your — thoughts, I have a class of Ravenclaws coming soon. Now, if you want them to see you there, then, by all means, stay. I am certain I can walk around you, or step on you, whichever you prefer. However —"
"I didn't know that was real," the werewolf interrupted him, rolling over onto his back, but still shielding his face with his arms. "Damn it all to hell. And back."
Severus shifted uncomfortably. "You were in pain and shock. You had just been through a horrible ordeal. It is understandable that you would say things that you didn't mean —"
Lupin lowered his arms, and, from his position on the floor, looked upside down at the Potions Master. "I meant it. I remember it. And I meant it. But, since you haven't said anything, I thought maybe it was like most of the other conversations I was having — all in my head or with others who — weren't there."
He rolled over and slowly pushed himself up to his feet. Severus caught the quick grimace of pain the werewolf made as he did.
What should he say to Lupin now? Was there anything to say? He exhaled heavily and turned his attention to his plans for the Ravenclaws.
"Why didn't you do it then?" Lupin suddenly asked. "You could have, and no one would have questioned it."
Severus didn't look at him. "It was not my place to decide whether you were needful of death or not. It is still not my place." However much I might wish for it.
He didn't watch Lupin limp out of the classroom.
Snape will probably regret that he didn't take the chance that Remus offered him…
Reviews would be much appreciated and might make my tension headache go away!