Chapter 10
"We get off at the next."
Snape nodded in reply to Sirius. The Animagus brought down their suitcases, getting a glare rather than a "thank you" from his companion.
The girls shouldered their enormous backpacks. The buck-toothed one, the de facto leader, Snape thought, smiled Black a presumably dashing smile. The other one did not waste one on Snape, staring at her friend with trepidation.
"Seems like a good enough place to see next."
The timid one didn't seem to agree but said nothing. Snape gave her a disdainful look that did not improve her flustered state.
Snape hefted his suitcase with difficulty, wishing he'd remembered when he'd packed that levitating one's luggage is not an option for Muggles.
Black smiled to the girls. "I think you should go wherever it is you were originally heading."
The "leader" told the Animagus that they had a rail pass which Snape guessed meant they could go anywhere and flirt with anyone. Only his girl had given up long ago any attempt at flirting with him. In fact, it looked like she would soon abandon any attempt at keeping in touch with reality, faced with her friend's scandalous behaviour. Snape felt a pang of sympathy for her which he tried very hard to transform to scorn but failed.
They got off the train. Snape stumbled as he was touching the ground, the weight of his suitcase almost toppling him forward.
"Sev!" Black cried out. "…erus," he added sheepishly under the frosty glare Snape was giving him. "Are you alright?"
Am I alright? He was tired. He was so tired he felt as though he would start whimpering soon, like small children do when they've been pushed beyond their limits. When they start crying out of nothing else but sheer exhaustion.
Wordlessly he picked up his suitcase again and headed for one of the displays to see where they'd be getting their next train. Hopefully soon and hopefully alone.
"It's in forty-five minutes. Platform 8," Black announced.
Let me guess. A cup of coffee while we wait. With them.
Inane chatter, Muggles everywhere, making Snape wish for a new Voldemort to follow. Chanting "Death to Muggles" had been a favourite among his hooded former friends.
Black left to call the boy's parents on the telephone to let them know when to expect them. Snape didn't even pretend to make conversation with the girls. His thoughts went to the Finch-Fletchleys. How were they coping? The first shock had been around 10 years ago. "Mr and Mrs Muggle, your son is nothing like you. He has to live in a different world now, attend a school that you can't even see, let alone visit and be with people a large part of whom see you and other Muggles as vermin."
And now…
"Well, forgive me, Mr and Mrs Muggle, your son now transforms into a beast once a month and I suggest you find somewhere to lock him up unless you have access to illegal wolfsbane. Illegal, since I assume the poor bugger had sense enough not to get registered… Right! Knockturn Alley it will be then and you'll just have to hope that whoever sells you wolfsbane under the counter will not poison your only son and heir. Who will most likely be dead before you, anyway…"
Oblivious to his surroundings, Snape pressed his hand on his forehead, giving out a low moan.
"Severus, are you alright?" Black's hand was pressing gently on his shoulder, his cool fingers grazing Snape's neck. The Potions Master fought an urge to press the cool hand against his forehead, as if this could somehow take his throbbing headache away.
"I'm fine," he murmured, shaking off the Animagus' hand. "Why don't you simply tell those two twits that we're just a couple of old fruits?" he added maliciously. "You keep touching me but I don't think they've gotten the point yet."
There was a gasp of horror from the tall one, while the timid one erupted in laughter. "They… are… gay…" she croaked.
Sirius's gaze went from his companion to the two girls, one struck dumb, the other still giggling hysterically.
Snape felt for the first time in months something tickling at the back of his throat and realised it was laughter. It sounded strange to his own ears when it joined the girl's shrill giggles.
"But… ," the taller girl said.
"Fuck you, Sue," the other girl snapped, no longer the mousy creature which had deserved Snape's contempt. She turned to the two wizards.
"It was nice to meet you," she said, in a voice still threatening to break into laughter. "We're going to Bath now, which is where I wanted to go. I'm sure Sue will have no objections."
Sue gave Sirius one more longing gaze, making Snape feel like grabbing the Animagus and kissing him if only to spite her. He settled for taking the other man's arm and heading towards their platform.
The Animagus suddenly stopped.
"What is it?"
"We don't have to take the train. They sent their chauffer to pick us up, the cottage is only fifteen minutes from here," he said sheepishly.
"Were you planning on informing me of that at some point?"
"With all that happened…"
"Nevermind," Snape breathed a sigh of relief. He couldn't face the prospect of another train. Security troubled him, however.
Black appeared to have guessed the reason for his companion's hesitation.
"It's only fifteen minutes. We weren't exactly inconspicuous in the train either. Especially with this concealment charm of yours."
"Pardon me?"
"You heard me. I'd rather we didn't meet the boy's parents with you looking like a geisha."
Snape glared at the Animagus. Black's smile was taking away the sting of the words. He deftly took a hold of his wand and murmured finite incantantum before Snape could react.
Snape felt a tingle and realised his protection was gone. Abruptly he lowered his head, letting his hair cover his face. "You fool!" he hissed.
"Severus, you look fine. There's just a slight discoloration, that's all."
Snape felt the hand that was about to pat his shoulder reassuringly. He took a step back. "You used your wand, you bloody fool!"
Black froze. He was about to respond when he noticed a man holding a sign reading "Mr Black and Mr Snape" approaching them.
Snape groaned when he too noticed the man. "Did you mention anything to those dratted Muggles about security?"
"I did. Apparently it didn't sink in."
They followed the chauffer. They were quiet in the car. Snape pressed his forehead against the windowpane, giving out a sigh.
"Headache?"
"Whatever gave you that idea?" Snape sneered, rummaging in his sack for his pain relieving potion. He took a large swig from it, trying his damnest to avoid making a face at the taste.
Sirius tried to make conversation with the chauffer. It didn't go well. The Muggle's answers were monosyllabic. Snape was secretly grateful for that. Discreetly, he took a look at his face on the rearview mirror.
Perhaps Black was right. Perhaps he had overreacted. The new skin was a little pink but he looked normal, more or less. Despite having been called ugly more times than he cared to remember, Snape really had no problem with his appearance. Except when he was a child. He'd have killed then to be just a little taller, bigger, imposing, frightening even. He'd gotten more than he'd bargained for with an intense growth spurt at 13, giving him nosebleeds and the appearance of the class clown in his too short robes and trousers until his father had finally decided to spend some money on his only son.
He'd been eating everything in sight trying to look less like a grasshopper. He'd been swimming in the lake to build muscle and be less awkward and clumsy. He'd been practising in front of a mirror how to look imposing enough, walking swiftly and soundlessly, sweeping in and out of a room. He'd started to fall in love with himself then, applying his knowledge of potions to keeping his complexion clear, even bothering with his hair at times, keeping his usually stained nails clean and well-manicured and most of all… touching himself. It had frightened him, how his sexuality had awoken and demanded more and more of his time. He'd seen the change in all of his schoolmates, being younger than them but he couldn't even begin to understand what it was like until it happened to him.
And then Remus happened to him. Remus's seduction had been slow and methodical, making a blushing, unsure, moody mess out of the formerly controlled, even cold Slytherin. Snape smiled bitterly at where his thoughts had led him. He turned and met Sirius's intense gaze. He held it until the Animagus looked away. Snape felt oddly ashamed when that happened. As though he had just kicked someone who was down, bleeding on the pavement. He let his hand fall and not-so-accidentally rest on the other wizard's.
It was a small cottage. The limousine did not look right parked in front of it. The chauffeur parked then led the two wizards to the front porch. The woman who let them in did not look like she might have any experience answering the door herself. She wore a black mid-length dress, complimented with a string of impossibly large pearls. Snape had a suspicion they were real.
She led them to the sitting room. It was small and cramped with furniture, most of it rather old and worn. A man was sitting in one of the armchairs. He rose to meet them, towering above the two tired wizards. His head was bald, his eyes a dull grey, his nose thin and long, in all, not much to look at. Only his lips stood out, luscious and plump and so at odds with the rest of him, they made him look ridiculous.
Nervously he extended a hand to Snape, as though he wasn't sure whether shaking hands was the norm for wizards.
"I'm Edward Finch-Fletchley and this is my wife, Catherine."
Snape shook the hand limply then turned and greeted the woman with a curt nod. Black smiled to both Muggles and shook their hands.
Snape took a good look at the woman, when he'd managed to extricate his gaze from the huge pearls on her neck. She had to be in her mid-forties but in bad light could easily pass for someone not a day over thirty. She had regular features, rather plain, except for her eyes. Large, cobalt-blue, shaded with thick eyelashes. She motioned the men to sit with a curt gesture. Her husband was the first to obey, leaving very little doubt in Snape's mind as to who was wearing the trousers in this family.
Speaking of family…
"Is your son here?" Snape asked politely.
The woman looked up in surprise, as though her son wasn't the reason the two men had come. "Your Headmaster thought it would be best if I told you what happened. The memory is very painful for Justin and he doesn't want to relive it." A sharp intake of breath from the direction of Edward Finch-Fletchley told Snape that the other male member of the family was equally unwilling to go down that path again.
Black gave the woman a warm smile. "We understand that it is difficult."
And pointless, thought Snape. What do we care exactly how it happened? The end result is the same. The boy is a werewolf. At the same time he knew that the two Muggles needed to share what happened with someone who would understand. He too nodded when Black told the woman to tell them everything.
She looked from Severus to Sirius and seemed to prefer locking her gaze with the Animagus's. Her husband was focussed on some point of great interest located on the worn carpet.
She described the attack in detail, sometimes her voice trailing off, her eyes filling with tears, others speaking with a frightening detachment. It had happened in their summer home, near Bristol. It was in the middle of the night. They had hardly heard anything until the animal headed upstairs. It had already killed their cook who found it in the kitchen and it was covered in her blood. "Sally, she'd been with the family for years," she said and briskly brushed away a tear. "Justin heard it. He came out with his wand but it happened too quickly. The wolf went for his throat. There was a shot".
Her husband interrupted her at that point. He still kept his eyes on the floor.
"I shot it," he said "but didn't kill it. It bit on Justin's arm. I shot it again, Justin was screaming," the man's voice shook. "I don't know how many shots it took… it… it wouldn't die. It wouldn't let go of Justin's arm…" the man's voice trailed off.
Snape tried to swallow and found out that he couldn't. He turned to Justin's mother. "Could I have something to drink, please? Tea, perhaps?" his voice was strangled.
The woman gave out a nervous laugh. "Where are my manners? Of course, I'll make some."
Black was staring at Snape so hard the Potions Master could positively feel him. If he asks me how I am, I'll hex him.
The man seemed glad for the respite. He stared from Severus to Sirius. The Potions Master wondered how he must look to get a sympathetic gaze from the Muggle who looked like hell himself. Snape turned to the Animagus. Black avoided his gaze. Werewolves had been a taboo subject in their arrangement, back when Remus was still alive. By unspoken agreement, Black had been the one to stay with Remus during the full moon. Snape loved the man but could not bear to face the beast, not even under wolfsbane. He'd seen the transformation only in the medical ward, at Hogwarts. It had been Remus's last transformation. The wolf had looked as pitiful as the man, yellow teeth, sparse fur, each bone showing clearly under the loose hide.
Black got up and made for the kitchen. Snape accepted gratefully the glass of water he brought him. Mrs. Finch-Fletchley seemed to have serious difficulty with that tea. "Perhaps I should go help her," her husband murmured. "We have no servants here because of Justin, you understand."
The two wizards nodded. Snape had serious doubts that the man would prove to be more skilled in the kitchen than his wife was but he didn't argue.
At some point the two Muggles did manage to produce something that resembled tea. They got back in the living room. The woman's eyes were red and there was a misery in her husband's expression which told them that he had probably been to blame for the tears.
"When did all this happen?" Snape asked quietly. He was holding the cup in his hand, welcoming its warmth. There was a fire blazing in the room. The chill Snape felt seemed to be coming from the inside, accompanied by the bitter taste of old fear in his mouth that the too sweet tea couldn't wash away.
"A little more than a year ago," the man replied. He passed a hand over his face. "I can't believe it has been so long."
"Has he had access to wolfsbane?"
The man nodded. "Your Headmaster took control of the situation. After I killed the animal it…" he stopped abruptly.
"It turned into a man," Black said gently.
Justin's mother took over. "Justin was bleeding and he was begging us whatever we did, not to call the police. We bound his wounds as best we could and then he contacted your Headmaster. Dumbledore sent two wizards and a witch. They told us Death Eaters were behind what happened. The wizards took the… the body away and the witch took care of Justin. She seemed to know him."
Snape looked up sharply at the mention of Death Eaters. He knew the attack had not been an accident, other Muggleborns had been targeted as well. Voldemort had drawn to his ranks many werewolves hungry for human flesh. Absent-mindedly he rubbed at his left arm. He felt Sirius's gaze and abruptly let go. There was no mark anymore, only a shadow of where it had been. He had scratched the skin time and again, worried the scabs to watch the blood flow. It had been a habit that had remained even after the mark had disappeared following the Dark Lord's demise. Remus would try to stop him, kiss the wounded flesh with an acceptance that Snape didn't want. He much preferred Black's reaction: avoiding it, screwing his face up in disgust at the sight, laughing at Snape.
"It's gone yet you still want to be a marked man," Black told him once, pulling at the hand that had been scratching the tender skin. He stroked at Snape's hair, idle fingers twirling a lock, so casually, so simply. Snape kept his back turned not wanting to fully wake up. He'd been clawing at his hand in his sleep not even the stinging pain enough to wake him.
"Don't be so melodramatic, Black. It's just an eczema," he murmured sleepily. Black chuckled then, warm alcohol-scented breath against Snape's face. Black's touch became bolder and Severus granted him access, still not having quite woken up. They were both so quiet that Remus just gave out a whimper and changed sides.
Snape set down his cup of tea carefully, avoiding the other wizard's gaze. The memory troubled him. In general, he tried not to remember the times when it had been only Black and himself. Yet they would sneak up on him, triggered by a touch, a casual remark, the other man's expression. And he would get a strange feeling in his middle, not quite arousal, more like a sort of hunger.
Snape suddenly realised that a silence had fallen. He wasn't exactly sure when the woman had stopped talking but when he looked up he saw the two Muggles watching him with anticipation. So was Black. He felt the weight of those gazes and hated them all with a passion sudden and brief as the flame of a match. It left only weariness in its wake. He turned to Mrs. Finch-Fletchley.
"You don't have to tell us anything else," he said quietly.
The woman nodded gratefully. "I should show you to your rooms," she said quickly. "Goran – our chauffeur- has taken your luggage upstairs. I'm afraid you're going to have to share a room."
"It is no trouble," Black said.
Snape made a grimace of distaste but said nothing.
The room was small and impersonal. Two single beds, a dresser, a large closet… that was about it. It smelt faintly of closed space.
Severus turned to the two Muggles. "There are only two bedrooms. Where will you be sleeping?"
They stared up at him, startled. The woman replied. "We're going back to London tonight. Justin doesn't want us here near the full moon."
The man was studying the floor. He was biting his lower lip and Snape could have sworn his grey eyes were suspiciously shiny.
You disagree, don't you, Mr Muggle. You want to be with the boy but wouldn't dare go against Mrs Muggle.
Snape didn't know what prompted him to do this, yet he reached and placed his hand on the man's arm.
"I'm sorry about this," he said gravely.
"We will try our best to help Justin," Black assured the woman who had now produced a handkerchief and was wiping away easy tears.
Snape kept his eyes at the man's pale face and when the helpless gaze met his something broke in his chest. He made no promises, gave no encouraging smiles and meaningless words of comfort. He simply squeezed the man's arm once and let go.
Black asked when Justin would be getting there. Embarrassed, the woman told him that she wasn't sure. He kept strange hours.
The Potions Master searched his memory for the quiet Hufflepuff he hadn't seen in too long. He came up with next to nothing besides the fact that the boy had spent a large part of his second year in the Infirmary, frozen. He couldn't even remember what he looked like. Hufflepuffs very rarely left much of an impression. Sheep, his Slytherins called them, Snape must have called them that as well in his school years though he couldn't really remember anymore. He'd conveniently forgotten all the name-calling he'd been involved in along with his Slytherin mates. Especially since it had involved calling students of other Houses names much more serious than "sheep".
Black stayed in the kitchen to make himself dinner while Snape retired upstairs. Black tried to tempt him to eat something by listing everything he found in the Finch-Fletchley's refrigerator. Snape had been halfway up the stairs when the Animagus finally realised he had been talking to himself.
The boy hadn't gotten home by the time Black also went to bed. He tried not to make noise as he was getting in. Irritably, Snape told him to turn on the light, it wasn't as though he'd managed to get any sleep. After some fumbling the Animagus finally found it. Both wizards had been given a crash course on the Muggle world before leaving Hogwarts but it seemed that some things were proving to be a lot harder in practice than they'd appeared.
As he was undressing, Black casually took out his wand and tossed it on the bed. He turned to Snape.
"Severus?"
"Yes?"
"This wand is unregistered. I'm telling you now because I've decided to transfigure this sorry excuse for a bed and I'd rather not have you jumping on me," he smiled mischievously and added, "not in the literal sense at least."
The Potions Master felt his cheeks burn and realised his face must have turned a uniform pink.
"I was using it when I was on the run. Olivander had sold it to me."
Snape stared at the Animagus in astonishment. "How on earth…"
"He set a price and I made it. He didn't care about the rest. Don't look at me like that, Severus. Olivander doesn't really care about these things. To be honest, I don't think he's exactly human. And I was innocent!" he added defensively.
Snape shrugged. "I'm impressed," he said dryly.
"No need to apologise about biting my head off when I used my wand at the train station," the Animagus chided.
"Don't hold your breath."
Sirius laughed at that. He had a clear laugh, a laugh that Snape had heard way too many times at his expense. Indulgent, ever-cheerful, optimistic, Gryffindor laugh. But Snape couldn't hate that laugh anymore. Not when it had survived Azkaban.
"Perhaps you could do something about my bed as well," Snape said gruffly.
With a flick of his wand Black meshed the two beds into a four poster that filled the entire room. Replete with large, comfy pillows and peach coloured sheets which had a decidedly silky look about them.
Snape crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't think so."
Black shrugged. "Had to give it a try," he said with a sheepish smile.
