OK, here's chapter 2 - finally. Sorry to keep you waiting for so long but
RL kind of got away with me. *grimaces*
Thanks to StellaPen, Pedagogue, Youko Gingitsune (BTW, I have no idea, I'm sure I've reviewed stories before joining myself...?), Julla-Luna and sugahcat for reviewing!! *throws kisses at them*
And great thanks to beta-reader Chris!
Previous chapter: Snape catches Remus looking at him and is convinced The DADA teacher is planning a prank - or something more serious. Snape's intent on finding out what it is before it is too late.
Snape almost laughed when the door opened up to a simple "Alohomora". He remained cautious, however, checking for any possible spells trapping him once he was inside. There were none. Apparently the werewolf was a very trusting creature - or otherwise he was just plain dumb. He decided upon the latter.
He looked around the room for a moment, taking in the heavy wooden furniture, and the comfortable sofas. *Green* sofas, he noted, and smirked. It wouldn't do to stand around for too long, he resolved. Though Lupin had only just started on his dinner when Snape left, the shorter the time Snape would spend in this room, the smaller the chance of him getting caught.
After briefly perusing some shelves, he hastily, though carefully, opened drawer after drawer and door upon door, looking for anything that might give him a clue as to what he could expect. He did not have any inhibitions in examining the most personal belongings of one of his colleagues - after all, it was just a werewolf. He found there were not many of them, though - he came across one worn robe, a stack of boxer shorts, and a small assortment of socks in the otherwise empty wardrobe. In the desk-drawers, he found some quills and parchments, which no doubt had been provided by the school, and a number of tattered books, which were of absolutely no interest to Snape.
Well, all but one. He found a thick book with a plain, black cover in the bottom drawer, and opened it to read. It was hand-written, and he was fairly sure it was Lupin's handwriting. Impatiently, he flicked back to the first page, and couldn't suppress a grin when he read: "Remus Lupin's Personal Diary". The handwriting was very childish, and though about three- quarters of the pages were written upon, he guessed the werewolf wasn't really one to write in his diary every day. Nevertheless, this could prove to be *very* interesting.
He realised that he probably held the secrets to just about every prank Potter, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew had ever played in his hands. If only he could show this to Dumbledore! But he knew he couldn't, and even if he could Dumbledore wasn't likely to punish Lupin almost twenty years after the facts. All the same, Snape himself was very interested in knowing. He quickly read random passages at the beginning of the diary, but he did not find anything that captivated his attention. He snorted at an entry no doubt made the day after a full moon, about how much the transformation hurt, and so on. Snape thought he deserved every bit of that pain.
Suddenly it occurred to him there was one entry he certainly would like to read. Lupin had always claimed he had not been in on that joke Black had tried to play on him. And though Snape did not doubt for one second that it was a plain lie, he wanted to see it in writing. He wanted proof, even if he couldn't use it. He rapidly leafed through the diary, looking for the right entry. Which shouldn't be all that hard, since he knew the exact date of the incident. After all, looking death - or in this case, a werewolf - in the eye, isn't something one forgets.
He found he was right about Lupin not writing daily - apparently only when he felt the need to. Snape wondered whether that incident had actually made it *in* the diary, for all Lupin could care.
But then, there it was. The date was marked the day after that near-fatal night. The writing was strangely wobbly. And Snape read avidly.
"*I don't know how to start, or what to say.* (A blotch, as if he had paused to think) *Well, it's quite simple, really. Last night, I almost killed someone. You're not going to believe who, and why. It was Severus Snape, of all people. Severus Snape, who now has the power to tell the world what I am, if so he wishes. As I've told you, we don't get along. At all. He now has the power to destroy me, and it scares me. No, that's not what I wanted to talk about. I don't even think that's what's scaring me - yet. God, I always thought everything would be fine, everything would be all right. Either locked up in the Shrieking Shack, or guarded by Padfoot, Prongs and Wormtail. Though the thought has frightened me before, I never actually thought I would one day hurt someone - or get a chance to. Thank God for James. Thank God. Oh Padfoot. I don't know how I feel about him now. Anger? Hate? Disappointment? I just don't know. I feel he has betrayed my trust. Yes, that's about it. But that's not all. Oh, I just don't know. It hurts. Physically, also, I mean. I bit and scratched myself like I hardly ever did before. I'm writing this with my right hand, because I can't hold a quill in my left one; it's bandaged. It hurts. And maybe that's good, you know, maybe like this I can concentrate on the physical pain, just focus on that, and I can ignore the emotional pain. The confusion. Oh, thank God for James. What would have happened if I had really killed him? How would I feel now? I can't even really think about it. It makes me feel sick. Because in a way, this is all my fault. I mean, I know I didn't have anything to do with it. I didn't tell Snape how to bypass the Whomping Willow, nor did I make him follow me. Sirius' fault, and his, respectively. But it's still my fault isn't it? It's my fault because I'm the werewolf.* (.)"
The door opened and Snape nearly dropped the diary. Lupin stepped in, his face calm and unworried for a moment - and then he saw Snape. His eyes widened in shock, then lowered to take in the diary. Deep grooves were suddenly drawn across the otherwise friendly face, as anger washed away any other emotion. It was quite a sight to behold. It was rather amusing, in a way. Snape suppressed a smirk.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Lupin shouted, advancing menacingly, all vestiges of calm abandoned. Who knew he was capable of such extreme feelings?
Snape snapped the book shut. Despite the fact that a part of him felt increasingly entertained by Lupin's unusual behaviour, the more instinctive part of him felt trapped. If anybody else had walked in on him, he felt sure he could have talked himself out of it. But how did you explain to a werewolf that it was OK, because, after all, he was just a werewolf, and therefore did not merit the privacy of a human being? No, he thought. That tactic certainly wouldn't do. He decided that his usual tactic would probably be better. Attacking.
"I, Lupin," he started in his most frosty voice, "am here to find out what's going on - what joke you have in store for me, since you refuse to tell me yourself. Considering the ones you have played on me before - one in particular - that seemed like a reasonable thing to do, as I do not wish to die anywhere in the near future." There. That should put him back into place. He deliberately omitted the fact that he had just found out Lupin might not have been in on that particular joke after all.
"Give me that", the werewolf snapped coldly, an odd nervous tic pulling the right corner of his mouth down reflexively. Not having much choice - and, though he would rather be submitted to several rounds of Cruciatus followed by the Killing Curse before admitting it, rather impressed by the sheer anger Lupin could radiate - Snape complied, handing him the diary.
Lupin clutched it in his hands, and glared at Snape, nailing him to the spot. Snape knew he couldn't just walk out. Lupin would go straight to Dumbledore, who no doubt wouldn't be pleased. He probably wouldn't get expelled over it, but he certainly didn't feel like being called to the Headmaster's office like an offending first year. That would be humiliating. *As opposed to being at the werewolf's mercy*, a taunting voice nagged him. He mentally threw an Avada Kedavra its way. It fell mercifully quiet.
He weighed his other options: throwing more accusations at the werewolf, or pleading with him. He thought, after a moment's consideration, that the first probably wouldn't help matters, and as he wasn't about to do the latter, he just kept quiet, and waited, piercing Lupin with his best and most frightening glare. Well, he *hoped* it was frightening. It should be. But the werewolf didn't seem impressed. He was probably *used* to all of Snape's most horrible glares by now.
The fury in Lupin's eyes, on the other hand, was, for all its unusualness, unsettling. Well, it would have been unsettling to anyone but himself, he amended. Right.
They stood like that for a long time, Lupin apparently deep in thought, until he finally breathed in deeply, nostrils still flaring, and spoke quietly, barely suppressing his anger. "What is going on, Severus," he started, mocking Snape's earlier lofty tones, eyebrows raised in sarcasm, "is that I am in love with you."
Snape burst out laughing. At least he did on the inside - he couldn't quite exteriorise the feeling; he was too shocked. He had expected a lot of things. Had expected a lot of lies, even. This was not one of them. This was ludicrous. The werewolf looked oddly serious.
"Now, don't you worry", he continued bitterly, with perhaps a note of self- mock in his soft voice. "It's just a crush, nothing serious, and I'm sure it'll be over in a couple of weeks. I'm sure *this* will help" - he waved the diary about, indicating their situation, his seemingly rational voice still laden with anger. "In the meantime, I'll keep my staring to a bare minimum. I apologise for any inconvenience. If that will be all, I would like you to leave my rooms." He breathed. "Now."
Snape didn't need any more encouragement.
Thanks to StellaPen, Pedagogue, Youko Gingitsune (BTW, I have no idea, I'm sure I've reviewed stories before joining myself...?), Julla-Luna and sugahcat for reviewing!! *throws kisses at them*
And great thanks to beta-reader Chris!
Previous chapter: Snape catches Remus looking at him and is convinced The DADA teacher is planning a prank - or something more serious. Snape's intent on finding out what it is before it is too late.
Snape almost laughed when the door opened up to a simple "Alohomora". He remained cautious, however, checking for any possible spells trapping him once he was inside. There were none. Apparently the werewolf was a very trusting creature - or otherwise he was just plain dumb. He decided upon the latter.
He looked around the room for a moment, taking in the heavy wooden furniture, and the comfortable sofas. *Green* sofas, he noted, and smirked. It wouldn't do to stand around for too long, he resolved. Though Lupin had only just started on his dinner when Snape left, the shorter the time Snape would spend in this room, the smaller the chance of him getting caught.
After briefly perusing some shelves, he hastily, though carefully, opened drawer after drawer and door upon door, looking for anything that might give him a clue as to what he could expect. He did not have any inhibitions in examining the most personal belongings of one of his colleagues - after all, it was just a werewolf. He found there were not many of them, though - he came across one worn robe, a stack of boxer shorts, and a small assortment of socks in the otherwise empty wardrobe. In the desk-drawers, he found some quills and parchments, which no doubt had been provided by the school, and a number of tattered books, which were of absolutely no interest to Snape.
Well, all but one. He found a thick book with a plain, black cover in the bottom drawer, and opened it to read. It was hand-written, and he was fairly sure it was Lupin's handwriting. Impatiently, he flicked back to the first page, and couldn't suppress a grin when he read: "Remus Lupin's Personal Diary". The handwriting was very childish, and though about three- quarters of the pages were written upon, he guessed the werewolf wasn't really one to write in his diary every day. Nevertheless, this could prove to be *very* interesting.
He realised that he probably held the secrets to just about every prank Potter, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew had ever played in his hands. If only he could show this to Dumbledore! But he knew he couldn't, and even if he could Dumbledore wasn't likely to punish Lupin almost twenty years after the facts. All the same, Snape himself was very interested in knowing. He quickly read random passages at the beginning of the diary, but he did not find anything that captivated his attention. He snorted at an entry no doubt made the day after a full moon, about how much the transformation hurt, and so on. Snape thought he deserved every bit of that pain.
Suddenly it occurred to him there was one entry he certainly would like to read. Lupin had always claimed he had not been in on that joke Black had tried to play on him. And though Snape did not doubt for one second that it was a plain lie, he wanted to see it in writing. He wanted proof, even if he couldn't use it. He rapidly leafed through the diary, looking for the right entry. Which shouldn't be all that hard, since he knew the exact date of the incident. After all, looking death - or in this case, a werewolf - in the eye, isn't something one forgets.
He found he was right about Lupin not writing daily - apparently only when he felt the need to. Snape wondered whether that incident had actually made it *in* the diary, for all Lupin could care.
But then, there it was. The date was marked the day after that near-fatal night. The writing was strangely wobbly. And Snape read avidly.
"*I don't know how to start, or what to say.* (A blotch, as if he had paused to think) *Well, it's quite simple, really. Last night, I almost killed someone. You're not going to believe who, and why. It was Severus Snape, of all people. Severus Snape, who now has the power to tell the world what I am, if so he wishes. As I've told you, we don't get along. At all. He now has the power to destroy me, and it scares me. No, that's not what I wanted to talk about. I don't even think that's what's scaring me - yet. God, I always thought everything would be fine, everything would be all right. Either locked up in the Shrieking Shack, or guarded by Padfoot, Prongs and Wormtail. Though the thought has frightened me before, I never actually thought I would one day hurt someone - or get a chance to. Thank God for James. Thank God. Oh Padfoot. I don't know how I feel about him now. Anger? Hate? Disappointment? I just don't know. I feel he has betrayed my trust. Yes, that's about it. But that's not all. Oh, I just don't know. It hurts. Physically, also, I mean. I bit and scratched myself like I hardly ever did before. I'm writing this with my right hand, because I can't hold a quill in my left one; it's bandaged. It hurts. And maybe that's good, you know, maybe like this I can concentrate on the physical pain, just focus on that, and I can ignore the emotional pain. The confusion. Oh, thank God for James. What would have happened if I had really killed him? How would I feel now? I can't even really think about it. It makes me feel sick. Because in a way, this is all my fault. I mean, I know I didn't have anything to do with it. I didn't tell Snape how to bypass the Whomping Willow, nor did I make him follow me. Sirius' fault, and his, respectively. But it's still my fault isn't it? It's my fault because I'm the werewolf.* (.)"
The door opened and Snape nearly dropped the diary. Lupin stepped in, his face calm and unworried for a moment - and then he saw Snape. His eyes widened in shock, then lowered to take in the diary. Deep grooves were suddenly drawn across the otherwise friendly face, as anger washed away any other emotion. It was quite a sight to behold. It was rather amusing, in a way. Snape suppressed a smirk.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Lupin shouted, advancing menacingly, all vestiges of calm abandoned. Who knew he was capable of such extreme feelings?
Snape snapped the book shut. Despite the fact that a part of him felt increasingly entertained by Lupin's unusual behaviour, the more instinctive part of him felt trapped. If anybody else had walked in on him, he felt sure he could have talked himself out of it. But how did you explain to a werewolf that it was OK, because, after all, he was just a werewolf, and therefore did not merit the privacy of a human being? No, he thought. That tactic certainly wouldn't do. He decided that his usual tactic would probably be better. Attacking.
"I, Lupin," he started in his most frosty voice, "am here to find out what's going on - what joke you have in store for me, since you refuse to tell me yourself. Considering the ones you have played on me before - one in particular - that seemed like a reasonable thing to do, as I do not wish to die anywhere in the near future." There. That should put him back into place. He deliberately omitted the fact that he had just found out Lupin might not have been in on that particular joke after all.
"Give me that", the werewolf snapped coldly, an odd nervous tic pulling the right corner of his mouth down reflexively. Not having much choice - and, though he would rather be submitted to several rounds of Cruciatus followed by the Killing Curse before admitting it, rather impressed by the sheer anger Lupin could radiate - Snape complied, handing him the diary.
Lupin clutched it in his hands, and glared at Snape, nailing him to the spot. Snape knew he couldn't just walk out. Lupin would go straight to Dumbledore, who no doubt wouldn't be pleased. He probably wouldn't get expelled over it, but he certainly didn't feel like being called to the Headmaster's office like an offending first year. That would be humiliating. *As opposed to being at the werewolf's mercy*, a taunting voice nagged him. He mentally threw an Avada Kedavra its way. It fell mercifully quiet.
He weighed his other options: throwing more accusations at the werewolf, or pleading with him. He thought, after a moment's consideration, that the first probably wouldn't help matters, and as he wasn't about to do the latter, he just kept quiet, and waited, piercing Lupin with his best and most frightening glare. Well, he *hoped* it was frightening. It should be. But the werewolf didn't seem impressed. He was probably *used* to all of Snape's most horrible glares by now.
The fury in Lupin's eyes, on the other hand, was, for all its unusualness, unsettling. Well, it would have been unsettling to anyone but himself, he amended. Right.
They stood like that for a long time, Lupin apparently deep in thought, until he finally breathed in deeply, nostrils still flaring, and spoke quietly, barely suppressing his anger. "What is going on, Severus," he started, mocking Snape's earlier lofty tones, eyebrows raised in sarcasm, "is that I am in love with you."
Snape burst out laughing. At least he did on the inside - he couldn't quite exteriorise the feeling; he was too shocked. He had expected a lot of things. Had expected a lot of lies, even. This was not one of them. This was ludicrous. The werewolf looked oddly serious.
"Now, don't you worry", he continued bitterly, with perhaps a note of self- mock in his soft voice. "It's just a crush, nothing serious, and I'm sure it'll be over in a couple of weeks. I'm sure *this* will help" - he waved the diary about, indicating their situation, his seemingly rational voice still laden with anger. "In the meantime, I'll keep my staring to a bare minimum. I apologise for any inconvenience. If that will be all, I would like you to leave my rooms." He breathed. "Now."
Snape didn't need any more encouragement.
