Shadowed Souls

Chapter Eleven.

Sorry that this took so long to update. First, I had a crisis of faith in writing, and then I lost the Internet for a day and a half. Oh well, I hope this chapter was worth waiting for *looks pitiful*

QueenSmithy: Thanks for sending Crowley over to poke my muse *huggles demon*

Farewell: I'm sorry that I didn't get a new chapter of Suffering up for you to take to your parents' cabin. I promise you one any day now (actually, I have two chapters of that planned). Don't sic Arryn on me just yet … *evil grin*

Gracie: I think you'll have to get in line behind Siri to do nasty things to Sevvie.

FairyTale: *parries axe with wooden spoon* hmm, that didn't quite work, did it?

Ryoga Kitty: Hope the RL/SB obsession's still going strong.

Pie: *hides under the desk*

If I keep saying how lovely reviewers are, will you press the blue button? Well, they are anyway.

A/N: OK, this chapter contains a little swearing, and some violence *smirks*

A/N2: Thoughts are like *this*

A/N3: I'm going to plug my first original fic here. I know it's shameless, but I feel like doing it anyway. It's Dreams and Daylight - http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1163280

Well, on with the chapter…

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As the door swung open, Severus Snape looked up from the pile of parchment before him, but even as he did so he was too late. His head cracked against the blackened stones of the wall behind him. Long fingers curled around his throat, the bitten nails digging ruthlessly into his flesh.

"I see that Azkaban only worsened your already atrocious manners, Black," he croaked between gasps of air. "I suppose this is about your little pet wolf."

The vice around his neck tightened inexorably until black spots danced and whirled before his dimming vision.

Eventually relenting a little, Sirius glowered at the Potions master pinned to the wall like some shadowy moth.

"If you kill me, you will have to watch him die," Snape wheezed, smiling maliciously at the panic which flamed in the pale blue eyes fixed on his face. "It's so terribly poetic, is it not, one creature of darkness being destroyed by others?"

He found himself being backhanded into the wall so hard that his teeth ground together like millstones. Dazedly, his black eyes met the arctic ones blazing mere inches away.

"Never call him that," menaced Sirius in a deadly whisper, "or I swear I'll put your eyes out, Death Eater."

With a contemptuous flick of his wrists, he hurled the other man into the edge of the desk.

Winded, bent double with the pain, Severus snarled, "You always did prefer to use force to get your own way."

"I only used it on you and your charming comrades, while you just liked to poison everyone in sight, didn't you? Now I'll give you a chance to redeem yourself with your foul concoctions. Cure Remus."

Straightening up, ignoring the searing pain which shot through him at the movement, Snape asked, "Why would I bother? Why should I help you and that worthless dog? What concern is it of mine whether you live or die?"

Sirius grasped Severus' right arm, ripping the sleeve open to the elbow to expose the ugly tattoo emblazoned on the white skin.

"If you don't help him, I'll make sure that the Daily Prophet knows about this."

"How?" Severus asked sarcastically. "I am a respected if not … ah … trusted member of the Hogwarts faculty, while you are a dangerous escaped convict, and Lupin is a nothing more than a beast. The world has finally seen you for what you are, Black. You can't act like you used to now."

Sirius bit his lip hard, feeling the tears welling up in his eyes.

Almost reflectively, Snape continued, "When he dies, will you follow him to the grave, Black?"

His eyes were as bright and dark as the void in his ascetic face. "What revenge I would have then for your delightful little plot against me!"

Sirius could not help it. Although no noise escaped him, a single tear slipped down his cheek, highlighted in the candlelight. Fear closed his throat and paralyzed his brain. The last grains of time slid between his clenched fingers as he railed against the bitterness which consumed him.

Snape noticed the misery of the other in a heartbeat.

"Oh," he mocked, "are you afraid for your lover? It must be difficult to persuade anyone new to warm your bed now."

Reaching behind him, Sirius casually weighed a heavy volume on rare poisons in one hand before hurling it at the Potions master. Snape only just ducked in time, and the tome grazed the top of his head.

"He is not my lover; he does not share by bed," the Animagus howled. "Don't judge me by your foul standards, you bastard. I'm not doing this for myself."

His voice dropped.

"I'm doing this for him."

"How touching. The third years would be melting in their seats at that sentimental revelation," Severus sneered. "I'm sure that Lupin will be charmed right out of his clothes when he hears it."

"He is unconscious; he never will," Sirius snapped, his face contorted with grief. "You know that as well as I, Snape."

The last word became a malevolent hiss of breath, like the death rattle of hope.

On the other side of the room, Snape straightened, his usual icy composure gliding into place like oil across water.

"You fool."

Sirius, who had been gazing intently at the tattered hem of his robes, jerked his head up.

"You fool," the other man repeated. "You asked me not to judge you by my standards; now I ask you not to judge me by your own idiotic ones."

Crossing the room with a leisurely gait, he pulled a single sheet of parchment from the neat pile, and thrust it at the baffled Animagus. Sirius took it automatically, although he eyed it as if he suspected that it would bite him as soon as he looked away.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I always knew that you had trouble reading Black," Severus replied. "Can't you cope without the werewolf to coach you in your alphabet?"

Sirius ground his teeth, and scrutinized the document.

It was an untidy mass of notations, the writing scrawled at all angles across the page. One phrase caught his gaze: the effects of silver on werewolves – c.f. 'The Second Treatise on Magical Beasts and their Origins' by D. Gamgast.

Confusion drove deep furrows between his eyebrows. His mind darted frantically hither and thither as myriad possibilities presented themselves. At one and the same time, he felt sick to the stomach, and as exhilarated as if the air itself were alive. Eventually, the chaos resolved itself down to one question.

Holding the parchment between quavering fingers, he asked, his voice hoarse with nervousness, "Is this the cure?"

An expression of disgust settled over Snape's features.

"Of course not, it is merely the beginning."

"But will it lead to the cure?" Sirius demanded urgently.

"Perhaps," Snape prevaricated.

"But why are you doing this?"

"I asked you not to judge me by your standards," he bit out, "Please do as I requested. Do not imagine that I am doing this for you or that mangy wolf; your misery would be a light in this pathetic world. I am doing this for myself. You may be happy to condemn others to death; I am not."

"You could have fooled me," muttered Sirius, his stare pointedly fixed on the Dark Mark revealed by the torn black sleeve.

Through the miasma of hate, Snape recognized the justice of this remark, and winced almost unnoticeably, but his voice was as smooth and devoid of emotion as ever.

"I did not expect you to understand. Indeed, I am rather glad that you do not."

He swept from the room, the black fabric billowing around him like the wings of a carrion bird. Sirius followed him with long, elegant strides.

As they sped through the murky corridors, the first glimmer of dawn shone on the uneven flagstones, but neither man noticed its wan glow, trapped as they were in their own cheerless thoughts.

Sirius felt blank and dazed, caught somewhere in the nightmare realm between hope and fear, but Severus was only too aware of his own mental turmoil. The flaming, undimmed hatred of the years flicked in his conscious mind, tempting him with sweet revenge on Black and Lupin. Yet though this fire a siren voice called to him, whispered in his ears. It sounded remarkably like Dumbledore.

*If I just do this, I could strike a blow at Voldemort …If I just save the wolf, I would lessen the burden I bear…*

Resolutely setting his shoulders, he led the way to the deepest dungeon, far away from the prying eyes of the students, walking like a man facing his own death.

Suddenly, a fist shot out of the gloom and attempted to connect with the side of his head, but Severus had become far too accustomed to such assaults this night, and ducked. As Sirius ploughed his fist into the unyielding wall, the Potions master slipped under the raised arm, and pushed him face-first into the stone. He yowled with pain, and crumpled to the floor.

Snape stood over him, both fists balled by his sides, one foot on the other man's back.

"I would beware, if I were you, Black," he snarled. "My patience is not inexhaustible, and I may yet change my mind and decided not to help you."

Sirius struggled frantically, trying to right himself.

"Let go of me," he seethed. "Let go of me, you thug."

Reluctantly, the other man eased the pressure on the Animagus' back, allowing him to scramble to his feet, but he held his wand out threateningly, pointed at Sirius' chest.

"One false move, Black," he said sibilantly, "one false move…"

Sirius was flushed with barely controlled rage.

"Why did you taunt me like that?" he asked. "Why didn't you tell me in the beginning that you were working on a cure? Was that your bloody twisted idea of a joke?"

Severus regarded him with impassive eyes.

"A joke? Hardly," he said with a mirthless laugh. "I merely thought that you needed to be taught a lesson. The world does not revolve around you. Even the golden Gryffindor can be as helpless as the rest of us petty mortals. Especially now."

"Your lesson could cost Remus his life, you overgrown snake."

"Only if you insist on delaying me, you fool," Severus rejoined acerbically.

As if it was a terrible effort to do so, the Animagus nodded his acquiescence, and once again followed Snape as they completed the journey to the dungeon.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _

The ironbound door slammed closed, and Snape, now in his element, began to pull bottles and books from the shelves. Casually, flipping through one which had landed before him, Sirius flinched at the horrors depicted there. Catching this, Snape smiled cruelly.

"If you are so disturbed, Black, you do not have to remain here," he suggested maliciously.

"Do you think I'm mad? I'm not leaving you alone while you fiddle with your foul concoctions. God only knows what you might force poor Remus to drink," Sirius responded with a mock shudder.

Severus merely shrugged, and turned back to the business at hand.

"If you are going to continue to burden me with your presence, get the large cauldron from the corner, and pour the contents of the purple bottle into it."

Obeying, Sirius stared dubiously at a noxious looking substance with small creatures spinning in it, before removing the cork. A vile odour assailed his nostrils. Snape whirled round from his perusal of a dust-covered text.

"I said the purple bottle, you fool," he snapped, "not the bottle with purple contents. Do you wish Lupin to grow horns before he dies?"

Hurriedly, Sirius replaced the cork, and reached for the other bottle. Watching the liquid ooze into the cauldron, an unholy smile suddenly lit his face. This might be one way to pass the dreary hours…

"I expect your students will be delighted that you are … er … otherwise occupied today, and so they will be relieved of your presence," he remarked laconically.

"I suppose they will be," Severus returned icily. "Like you, they do not have the wits to appreciate this art."

Sirius idly twirled a dried newt between his fingers.

"But shouldn't a truly good teacher be able to inculcate his own enthusiasm in his students?" he asked, allowing just enough innocent confusion creep into his voice. Although terror still ate at him, he grinned as he saw Snape's shoulders stiffen.

*After all, why not keep the obnoxious little shit on his toes?*
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The dull red light of a glorious sunset spilled across the floor of the hospital wing as Sirius paced anxiously.

"When are you actually going to give him that stuff?" he demanded, hearing the catch of blind panic in his voice.

"When it is ready," Snape replied calmly, although he, too, was nervous at the outcome of this. To attempt such an ambitious project in such a short span of time had strained his talent to its limits. Wearily, he examined the roiling green potion in the tall flask. Nodding in satisfaction, he dropped a single sprig of birch into the mixture, and swirled it gently with the end of his wand. When the manic bubbles had subsided, he slipped one hand under the werewolf's head, and raised the glass container to the grey lips. The noxious-coloured mixture trickled down Remus' throat.

When all the liquid had gone, Severus replaced the flask on the small table beside the bed, and sat back to await the outcome, his hands folded patiently in his lap.

Almost fearfully, Sirius crept closer, his eyes wide and dark. Tenderly, he enfolded one of Remus' paper-thin hands in both of his own, caressing the knuckles with his thumb.

As if he had been hit by a curse, a paroxysm shook Remus' slight frame. Startled, Sirius jumped back, knocking the already battered chair to the ground with a great clatter. Another and yet another convulsion followed hard on the heels of the first.

Sirius rounded on the calm Potions master, the pupils of his eyes almost entirely swallowing the blue. Livid anger raged in the blackness; anger which could destroy minds and cast down mountains.

"You're poisoning him, you evil bastard. I warned you not to try anything. What have you done to him?" he screamed.

He grabbed the high collar of Severus' robe in both hands, dragging him from the wooden chair.

"What have you done to him?"

He found a wand tip pressed into his ribs over his heart.

"Sit. Down. You. Fool," Severus spat. "I have done nothing to him. That is merely the effect of the potion working. Watch and you will see."

Keeping a firm grip on the other man with one hand, Sirius turned back to survey the bed warily. After ten minutes of seizures which wracked Sirius' heart as much as they did his beloved's body, Remus subsided into the soft pillows.

Finally releasing Severus, Sirius crouched down by the bed, observing the languid rise and fall of the werewolf's chest. As he watched, a faint tide of the palest pink flooded into Remus' cheeks, illuminating those pale lips with the merest hint of colour.

Clutching one of Remus' hands, Sirius bowed his head over it, allowing tears to trickle freely from his eyes.

"When will he wake up?" he whispered.

"In about twenty-four hours," Severus replied, too tired even to retort with a sarcastic remark. He straightened his robes, scrubbing one exhausted hand over his face, and silently left the room. With no one to see, he allowed a small smile of triumph to twist his lips.

Barely able to stand under the weight of emotion, Sirius shuffled to a chair, always keeping his fingertips in contact with Remus' prone form. A song of joy rang through his mind, bright and brilliant as the dawn on a summer's day.

Knowing that he dared not do so once Remus had awoken, he cradled one fragile hand to his lips, whispering a mantra of love over and over again into the delicate skin.

As dusk faded into night, he sat there, drinking in everything which was Remus with his eyes, his soul flooded with delighted adoration.

*He is alive. What more could I ask?*

TBC

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*stuffs bruised Sevvie in a box and sits on the lid*