Saturdays were the one damn day Severus could relax. Usually he wouldn't even leave his rooms, instead preferring to relax with a book and a glass of whichever alcohol he had on hand. Today it was brandy. He hadn't had it in some time and his nerve endings tittered with anticipation as he poured himself a glass.
Despite his excitement to have a day to himself, it felt a bit odd to not have Harry here. Harry had required so much of Severus's time recently and he'd become accustomed to the presence of the young man. Usually he would have appeared by now, but Severus knew he had likely ruined that at dinner. Why was he so hellbent on ruining everything in his life the moment it started to go right? No matter. He liked his solitude. Always had. And now he could return to letting his life revolve around himself once more, without having to make considerations for someone else's schedule or emotions.
Just as Severus made himself comfortable, his door flew open to reveal a manic and wild-eyed Harry. Seeing him for the first time in nearly two days, he could have sworn he felt like he'd missed him. But that couldn't be. Severus liked his time alone.
He really did.
"Just because you know my password doesn't mean you should use it without notifying me first." He was aware his tone held no acidity to it as it once would have. Harry closed the door behind him with a bit too much force.
"Why do you hate werewolves?" He demanded.
Severus sighed and pressed his fingers into his eyes. "I'm not ready for this conversation."
"I don't care." He fell onto the settee by Severus haphazardly, half sitting on Severus's thigh until he settled in.
"I don't," he finally answered in a breath.
"Then why do you hate Remus?"
"I don't… anymore. Not really."
"You know what I'm getting at so just tell me!"
Severus felt differently these days whenever he looked at Harry, but he was still enraged to be forced into a conversation he didn't want to have. He'd never had to answer to anyone before and he wasn't willing to start now, but Harry knew just how to get under Severus's skin.
"You want to know? I shall certainly tell you with no hesitancy in honesty, but I'm afraid the discrepancy in what I say and what you believe might anger you. And so, whatever this sparks inside of you, keep it to yourself because I have no desire to hear it."
Harry looked at him expectantly, showing that Severus's red-faced response had no effect on him.
"Because that werewolf is a goddamned coward. When your father and that dog harassed me in school, he stood idly by and let it happen, although I could see that he knew it was wrong. He was terrified to stand up to them. And when he turned, he hid away like some type of hermit. How pathetic! Couldn't face the world around him until Albus drug him here to teach. We all have trials in life. You don't see me living on the fringe of society, do you?" He should have stopped there. But he couldn't. The worlds were set free and had a mind of their own now. "And when he was offered possibly the best luck of his life, he denied it because he was too cowardly to reach out and grasp it!"
"Luck?"
"You, Potter! You! A young, handsome, powerful man goes and fall in love with him, beyond any discernible reason and he just pushes it away! And I do not hate him, but I certainly do not understand him. Cowardice is the ultimate weakness in my eyes. He could have been a successful man, but he was scared of it. Whereas I've worked for years, years, and have had half the opportunities at my fingertips as he has."
"You're jealous," Harry was not arguing. Only stating.
"Of a weak, cowardly werewolf? I think not. I have plenty of reasons to dislike him, not to mention the matter of him absolutely destroying any self worth you might have possessed before he hurt you."
Severus couldn't remember standing, but he now found himself breathing hard and peering down at Harry who remained on the settee.
Harry sighed and collapsed in on himself, looking pitiful and defeated.
"He's dying."
"Excuse me?"
Harry looked at him. And now he could see the redness around his vibrant eyes. Could see his swollen lips and pink cheeks, making the remnants of his boyhood freckles stand out.
"I said he's dying." Harry took Severus's hand and squeezed it gently. "Can you save him?"
He knew that he couldn't. So many had tried to prolong the lives of werewolves for centuries, but little headway had been gained. Severus was intelligent, he knew he was brilliant with medicine and potions but he knew he cold not invent what his predecessors had been unable to.
"No. I know of nothing that could help."
"Can you try?" He pleaded; his voice so soft it sent chills down his spine.
But that look of desperation on Harry's gentle face made him want to promise that man the world. "Do not put all of your hopes on me."
"Is that a yes?"
"Yes, Harry. I will try."
Harry smiled weakly.
"How long has he been declining?"
"I don't know."
"What has he told you?"
"He's been coughing. He told me he was dying. It's all I know."
Severus nodded. He'd need more information, but he hated to question the man himself.
He accio'd a quill and parchment to himself and quickly wrote down two lists. One, a list of books he could reference. The other, information he would need from Remus.
He handed both lists to Harry.
"Get these answers, and these books. I'll clear an experiment cauldron for us to work in. Meet me at nine o'clock." He took a deep breath. "But, Harry. Do not be too hopeful. I'm not optimistic that anything can be done. And even if it can, I'm not sure we will find it in time."
"Thank you." He kissed Severus's cheek and slipped from the room.
He slowly lowered himself back onto the settee and looked around his sitting room. It now felt so empty without Harry. He was irritating, demanding, unyielding. He was handsome, kind, and he made Severus smile. He wanted to be far away from him, and he wanted to be near him.
Severus didn't know what he wanted. He'd never been more confused.
But he knew he would do anything for Harry, regardless of whatever unknown drive was encouraging him to do so. He didn't care about Remus, why should he? Werewolves didn't live long, and that was a simple fact. And he had never been the man's friend. He loathed that man.
But he couldn't let him die.
It was the right thing to do.
For Harry.
