Remus didn't hear the knocking, at first, too engrossed in his book to be
aware of his surroundings. He tended to do that, now. Flee reality. He
glanced at his watch and started. He was THAT late?! Still clutching his
book, he flung the door open, an apology already forming on his lips, then
stopped dead in his tracks. Severus was standing on his doorstep. For one
split second, it all seemed back to normal, and Remus was about to usher
him inside when…
"Professor Lupin! Don't worry, I've sent for the infirmary staff: they'll come and take him back directly. Can't imagine how he got out, can you?"
He looked back towards the silent man at his side, and shuddered uncontrollably. Could it even be called a man? Yet this body devoid of soul had once hosted a mind, and a brilliant and refined mind, at that. Could he have imagined it? For a moment he had seen the familiar glimmer in the eyes that had once been Severus'…
But now the form looked blandly towards Simmons, standing flushed in the corridor. It occurred to Remus that the man was expecting an answer, and provided him with a non-commitment grunt, too shaken to deal with words. It must have been the reflection of a torch, or his imagination. There was nothing left in this empty shell of the man he had grown to like so much. Severus Snape was dead.
Flashback///
Spring had come, and the ice had melted. So had the carvings. Severus was enraged at the thought that he had been so close to completing them, yet he had to accept waiting for another six months before taking it up again. Another six months of relentlessly poisoning the werewolf with this godforsaken Wolfsbane potion. He was in a foul mood when he made it to Remus' office, and the latter thought with commiseration about his unfortunate apprentice. Now was not time to talk of him, though: he must lift the Potions Master's spirits if he wanted those six months to be bearable for them both, not to mention the students. Besides, it was his affliction which had caused it all, and he couldn't be having that.
He didn't have too much trouble completing his task, though: the sight of his concentrated frown immediately soothed to Snape's temper. [Patience, Severus. It's for him you are doing it all. Don't be an insufferable creep with him, at least; he is the one who should be miserable]. He was startled, though, when Remus lifted a smiling face towards him and said, like it was the most commonplace thing on Earth: "Fancy a picnic?".
The memory brought a wan smile to the werewolf's lips. That was how he should remember Severus: startled, eyes glinting, lips parted in surprise, raven-black hair falling untidily all about his face. Or he should remember the delightful afternoons they had spent in the clearing, picnicking as Remus had suggested, or afterwards, whilst Sev shaped a model for his ice carving out of wood, and he read some English author or other aloud. They used to relish these afternoons off, and by the end off summer, Severus had acquired a tan, and Remus' diction had improved significantly, thanks to the subtle corrections his friend made along his reading.
They had grown closer, during these times, learning more about each other, and finding more and more common tastes and interests, Remus reflected. They never spoke of the past, though. The past was a subject that neither of them wished to dwell upon. Suddenly, life was calm, there was hope, and the prospect of the following week's picnic in the clearing, which seemed to do them both a world of good. And then came winter, and with it snow, ice and other things.
Remus closed his eyes and tried to stop his thoughts there, in the snow- carpeted clearing, Severus grinning like a Cheshire cat, eyes twinkling merrily et the sight of the gigantic ice block they had just levitated there. "It'll be ready before next full moon, I promise, he had said, looking at him earnestly. You'll never have to go through this again, if I am right."
He had circled the block slowly, and studied the wooden carving he had made during the summer. Remus' eyes wandered to a dark corner of his apartments, where the very same carving loomed in the shadows which hid the scarred remains of its left side. Severus' legacy. That was it, then, his thoughts had betrayed him and moved beyond the safe point.
Flashback///
"See you tonight, Remus".
He had stalked out of the clearing towards his afternoon lesson, pausing for a second to look back at Severus, ice particles flying all around him and glistening in his hair, intent on his task. He felt a rush of… affection for the man, and felt terribly like telling him how much his work and his friendship meant to him, but he couldn't seem to phrase it, so he just turned back and headed towards the castle. [I'll surprise him tonight. I'll get us seats for the Oscar Wilde play we talked about last week…] He smiled at the prospect of the Potions Masters' delight. The afternoon passed uneventfully.
[That was the last moment of happiness we were allowed. After that, it was all blood and raging darkness. Severus never came to my room that night.] Remus picked up his glass as swallowed a large quantity of brandy to steady himself. What was the point of thinking it over again? [There is no point. But you owe it to him, no?]. It must have been the incident that afternoon. He never went to the Infirmary anymore, to avoid that. It always made him feel sick and depressed. Well. More than usual, anyway. And that was not saying little. Most of his colleague assumed it was due to Severus' fate, and it was, too. Remus had been growing more and more sickly. So the Potions Master had been right about the Wolfsbane potion. Somehow, even though he had believed him, the werewolf hadn't expected the silver to poison his metabolism quite so soon.
And then it came to him. Maybe it was the brandy, maybe it was the pain. It was there all the same. [You must do something about this. You cannot carry on living like this].
"Professor Lupin! Don't worry, I've sent for the infirmary staff: they'll come and take him back directly. Can't imagine how he got out, can you?"
He looked back towards the silent man at his side, and shuddered uncontrollably. Could it even be called a man? Yet this body devoid of soul had once hosted a mind, and a brilliant and refined mind, at that. Could he have imagined it? For a moment he had seen the familiar glimmer in the eyes that had once been Severus'…
But now the form looked blandly towards Simmons, standing flushed in the corridor. It occurred to Remus that the man was expecting an answer, and provided him with a non-commitment grunt, too shaken to deal with words. It must have been the reflection of a torch, or his imagination. There was nothing left in this empty shell of the man he had grown to like so much. Severus Snape was dead.
Flashback///
Spring had come, and the ice had melted. So had the carvings. Severus was enraged at the thought that he had been so close to completing them, yet he had to accept waiting for another six months before taking it up again. Another six months of relentlessly poisoning the werewolf with this godforsaken Wolfsbane potion. He was in a foul mood when he made it to Remus' office, and the latter thought with commiseration about his unfortunate apprentice. Now was not time to talk of him, though: he must lift the Potions Master's spirits if he wanted those six months to be bearable for them both, not to mention the students. Besides, it was his affliction which had caused it all, and he couldn't be having that.
He didn't have too much trouble completing his task, though: the sight of his concentrated frown immediately soothed to Snape's temper. [Patience, Severus. It's for him you are doing it all. Don't be an insufferable creep with him, at least; he is the one who should be miserable]. He was startled, though, when Remus lifted a smiling face towards him and said, like it was the most commonplace thing on Earth: "Fancy a picnic?".
The memory brought a wan smile to the werewolf's lips. That was how he should remember Severus: startled, eyes glinting, lips parted in surprise, raven-black hair falling untidily all about his face. Or he should remember the delightful afternoons they had spent in the clearing, picnicking as Remus had suggested, or afterwards, whilst Sev shaped a model for his ice carving out of wood, and he read some English author or other aloud. They used to relish these afternoons off, and by the end off summer, Severus had acquired a tan, and Remus' diction had improved significantly, thanks to the subtle corrections his friend made along his reading.
They had grown closer, during these times, learning more about each other, and finding more and more common tastes and interests, Remus reflected. They never spoke of the past, though. The past was a subject that neither of them wished to dwell upon. Suddenly, life was calm, there was hope, and the prospect of the following week's picnic in the clearing, which seemed to do them both a world of good. And then came winter, and with it snow, ice and other things.
Remus closed his eyes and tried to stop his thoughts there, in the snow- carpeted clearing, Severus grinning like a Cheshire cat, eyes twinkling merrily et the sight of the gigantic ice block they had just levitated there. "It'll be ready before next full moon, I promise, he had said, looking at him earnestly. You'll never have to go through this again, if I am right."
He had circled the block slowly, and studied the wooden carving he had made during the summer. Remus' eyes wandered to a dark corner of his apartments, where the very same carving loomed in the shadows which hid the scarred remains of its left side. Severus' legacy. That was it, then, his thoughts had betrayed him and moved beyond the safe point.
Flashback///
"See you tonight, Remus".
He had stalked out of the clearing towards his afternoon lesson, pausing for a second to look back at Severus, ice particles flying all around him and glistening in his hair, intent on his task. He felt a rush of… affection for the man, and felt terribly like telling him how much his work and his friendship meant to him, but he couldn't seem to phrase it, so he just turned back and headed towards the castle. [I'll surprise him tonight. I'll get us seats for the Oscar Wilde play we talked about last week…] He smiled at the prospect of the Potions Masters' delight. The afternoon passed uneventfully.
[That was the last moment of happiness we were allowed. After that, it was all blood and raging darkness. Severus never came to my room that night.] Remus picked up his glass as swallowed a large quantity of brandy to steady himself. What was the point of thinking it over again? [There is no point. But you owe it to him, no?]. It must have been the incident that afternoon. He never went to the Infirmary anymore, to avoid that. It always made him feel sick and depressed. Well. More than usual, anyway. And that was not saying little. Most of his colleague assumed it was due to Severus' fate, and it was, too. Remus had been growing more and more sickly. So the Potions Master had been right about the Wolfsbane potion. Somehow, even though he had believed him, the werewolf hadn't expected the silver to poison his metabolism quite so soon.
And then it came to him. Maybe it was the brandy, maybe it was the pain. It was there all the same. [You must do something about this. You cannot carry on living like this].
