Author's Notes: CHAPTER EDITED!!!
Okay, this might sound a bit tacky… I made it all up, the Oblivion Potion. I know that in book two the Oblivion Spell is mentioned (the one Lockheart uses to erase people's memories). But, well, I don't study Latin anymore, so I'm not good at making up new words. I thought I'd use the old word, but with a different meaning. So the Oblivion Potion is less known in the wizarding world than the Oblivion Spell, a LOT more complicated, and it's forbidden (or at least, you need to have the Ministry's permission to buy –or brew- even a small amount of it). In small quantities it may be used for dreamless sleep, but it also helps forgetting some upsetting trauma for a certain amount of time. So it's natural to think that Snape uses it for himself (poor Snape, tortured by bad, evil Voldemort!! Bad Voldemort, Bad boy!), without permission of the Ministry of course, but who needs it when you have Dumbledore's? :-)
When Lupin feels like he can't take it anymore, instead of finally facing the death of his best friend, he tries to once again take the easy way out (and can you blame him after all?).
********** CHAPTER TWO **********
Lupin checked the magic clock on the wall; soon all the others would arrive for the usual Friday night meeting. It wasn't strictly necessary to hold one every week, but that way those who could not be present at one –maybe because they were on a mission or something– were able to attend the next one. People like Dumbledore, or Sacklebolt couldn't attend many of them, because of their jobs; they didn't want to draw unwanted attention to themselves. Anyway, these times were an opportunity for those who showed up to come together, discuss and confront ideas, make choices about future plans, and so on.
Lupin had begun to dread those meetings. And in this particular day, he hoped nobody would start making comments about how thin and tattered he looked –and even then, he knew he wouldn't miss all those stolen glances when they thought he wasn't looking –, because he had an excuse: 'you know, the full moon is coming…'. They'd nod their head, with an 'I see…', and they'd all pretend it was really okay. He'd always thought he hated hypocrisy… but to himself, he admitted that under these particular circumstances, lying was better.
Having nothing to do, he proceeded to clean the dining room. While dusting off a shelf, he accidentally met his reflection on the cupboard glass, and had to take a step back. He really did look awful. He was thinner, his skin was paler than ever, and the scars on his collarbone were now so evident that he found himself buttoning up his robes to hide them better. His sunken eyes were circled in blue from the lack of sleep, and his cheeks were a bit hollowed out. And his hair… there were some gray strands that hadn't definitely been there a month ago. Gee…he thought with some irony. He looked like a ghost. No wonder he'd almost moved *Snape* to pity!
Well, he didn't really fool himself into thinking that Snape would even consider the idea of giving him some Oblivion. But at least, Tonks had stopped making such a fuss about it. Sure, she'd hoped his 'seeking for help' would involve some opening up to someone… but 'it was a beginning'.
A couple of days had gone by since the episode in the kitchen, and she still hadn't even mentioned it. But she had become gentler than usual around him, greeting him brightly every time he entered a room, and often hugging him. To make him feel 'less alone'. He appreciated that, and found it somewhat funny that people had begun to look at them a bit strangely; they probably thought they'd gotten 'closer' in more than a sense, and he himself wondered sometimes.. if things had been different, maybe…
He was lost in thought when he heard the sharp sound of the doorbell ringing. He instinctively grimaced, but relaxed when he remembered Dumbledore had had the old witch's portrait removed a few weeks before. He put the duster away and went to answer the door. In a swirling of pink hair, Tonks flung herself in his arms.
"Hi, Remus!" she exclaimed brightly. He half-grinned, and hugged her back before pulling away. Even after so many years, he still hadn't gotten used to touching people openly. It made him uncomfortable, knowing 'what' he was. They moved aside, and allowed passage to the other wizards and witches.
Dubledore, who looked even older these days, but who still had that undisguised energy and brilliance emanating from his very being and Minerva McGonagall, followed closely by Hagrid, Mundungus Fletcher, Ms Bones, and Bill and Arthur Weasley. Almost the whole members of the Order were here tonight. But…
Snape was nowhere to be seen. Dumbledore himself was a bit puzzled, because the potions master never arrived late, not without a warning. They waited a while, then decided to go on without him. Maybe he'd been delayed. Maybe the Dark Lord was growing restless, and Snape had decided to stick with the Death Eaters to avoid blowing his cover. And although everybody's minds were thinking about it, they knew that discussing it wouldn't change anything, so they soon moved on to other matters.
The meeting didn't last long. The first two weeks after that day at the Ministry had been incredibly busy, as a lot of people finally accepting Voldemort's return had tried to contact the Order, asking to join the fight against the common enemy. Then, the chaos had subsided, and a strange calm had descended upon both sides, as they closed ranks and fell back into line. 'The calm before the Storm', they had begun to call it. Yet, it gave the Order time to catch their breaths.
They were soon done, and it was Lupin's turn to make coffee, which gave him an excuse to leave the room –away from those stolen glances he hated so much. He found himself wondering what Snape was doing. Was he alright? He'd avoided him long before he realized he needed his help… He now felt ashamed for reacting just as childishly as Harry had done, keeping as further away from the potions master as he could, afraid he might strangle him if he dared to make any inappropriate comments about…
But it wasn't in his nature to hate somebody without particular reasons… Being a werewolf, he knew better than to being prejudiced, or let his emotions take the better of him. In fact, now he thought about it, Snape was in a very dangerous situation… so many things depended on him… In fact, without him, he wasn't sure they had much of a chance against Voldemort. Yeah, they had their plans and all, but it was essential to have fresh information about the enemy every week…
When he went back to the living room, two trays full of coffees floating in the air behind him, he found that the members of the Order had split into groups, each discussing something different… like gardening, or the most recent ways of getting rid of pixies from one's back-yard.
Pretending everything was okay.
Pretending, pretending, pretending.
The only person among them who never pretended was Snape, Lupin realized with some irony. The potions master preferred to keep silent instead of opening his mouth to say hypocrisies, and Lupin admired him for that.
Snape chose that exact moment to finally appear. Everyone stopped talking and turned to look at him. Snape's gaze lingered briefly upon Lupin's form –well, he more like scowled at him- then moved to Dumbledore., as he walked up to the old wizard. They exchanged looks, then whispered something. Dumbledore nodded.
"It's okay, everybody. Nothing to worry about. No bad news, not today at least."
Hearing the Headmaster's perfectly confident voice, they all sighed in relief. Even Lupin, who realized that, in spite of himself, he'd been holding his breath. The others resumed their previews conversations, although they kept throwing curious looks in Snape's direction.
Soon Snape grew tired of the unwanted attention –oh, how Lupin understood!- and announced he was going to his room for a while. When he had left the room, Lupin remembered with a pang of guilt that he hadn't found the courage to clean Snape's room because he was afraid of intruding his privacy…
Snape was gone for, like, five or six minutes, when his voice suddenly echoed in the empty corridors.
"Lupin, come here this instant!" Since Lupin had been granted permission to clean the house all by himself –and Mrs Weasley had been hard to persuade- Snape always found something to complain about, just out of spite. Everyone gave Lupin a sympathetic smile, and he shrugged at them before excusing himself, then said he might not join them later that night… he was tired, 'you know, the full moon'.
He crossed the hall, then climbed up the stairs; Snape's room was the last door on the left. Actually, it wasn't really his room, but since he'd started to use it when after a particularly tough mission, no one dared to enter it without permission, with the sole exception of Dumbledore of course.
He knocked politely on the wooden surface. Snape called told him to "come in", and he was beginning to ask what he could do for—but was cut off by the look in the potions master's eyes.
"Close the door, you idiot. Do you want somebody to see us?"
Dumbfounded, Lupin did as he was told.
"What's going –"
"Here." Snape thrust something into his hand. "You mention this to anybody, you're a dead man. Werewolf." He corrected himself.
Lupin looked down at the flask in his hand. He couldn't believe it. It just couldn't be… He lifted his eyes to Snape, thankful beyond words. It was a flask of Oblivion Potion.
"Th-thank you…I–I owe you, really."
"As a metter of fact, yes, you 'owe' me. I've given them something else to talk about." He scowled. "Not that I care what they think, of course."
"Is there anything I can do? Anything at all? I mean… if there's something wrong…" There must have been *something* delaying him, and even if it was not important, he'd be more than happy to help him, if he ever needed –
He hadn't finished his thought, when Snape said:
"You have what you want. You can leave. I've got things to do."
Lupin caught his drift, and made to leave, then turned around to thank him some more –and Snape shut the door right in his face
"Idiot." He heard him mutter under his breath. He slowly turned to leave and went to his room, which was in the other wing of the house. He needed to hide the potion before someone found about it.
As he closed the door behind him with a sigh though, something occurred to him. Could it be…? That Snape had been late to –to prepare the potion for him? He'd said he didn't had any, three days before… and in fact it took three long days to brew it, and only if you already had the right ingredients (many of which had to be prepared weeks before).
No. Snape would never…would he?
Or maybe Lupin was just going mad.
And yet…
He carefully placed the flask in his drawer, the one in which he kept his most private things. He had enchanted it, creating a double space –a bit like Mad-Eye Moody's truck (in fact, it had been the old wizard who had taught him how to do it). He carefully avoided to touch the faced-down photos and the letter he'd put there a month before.
Time after time, feels like I'm fading away
Stopped on a dime, staring into space
And clarity comes, and clarity goes
But for all these epiphanies, I'm still lost…
He didn't want to use the potion straight away. Maybe he'd be able to resist until the full moon… he knew he wouldn't be able to ask Snape some more, he'd done so much for him already… after all, two days were not much, when he'd waited a whole month… right?
I know it's hard, yeah, you've got a complicated scene
They tell you "listen to your heart", yeah
Whatever the hell that means
And whisper they may, but they will anyway
And it's you who'll be living each second in between
Confessions and awakenings
Truthful fiction and the heart of things
He shut the drawer with a loud 'sbam!', and turned his attention to the roll of parchment that lay on his desk. He approached it, and sat down on his chair.
It was a letter to Harry. Dumbledore had explained him the importance of keeping in touch with him. Harry needed to know there were people out there who loved him, so that maybe his stay at the Dursleys' would be a bit more bearable. Lupin had nodded in agreement; how could he deny a simple thing like that? And yet, it had become more and more difficult. Harry still had a lot of anger inside of him, and Lupin wasn't ready to face his own, let alone that of a teenager full of crazy hormones…
Doing his best, he'd tried to be concise, but not harsh, making sure the tone of the letter was always a bit cheerful. He read it again:
Dear Harry,
It's been a while since I last wrote to you: three long days! You know, I've been busy with some super-secret mission lately… ridding the house of a terrible new creature that calls itself Dust. :) No really, I think Mrs Weasley hates me, I've become pretty good at housecleaning, so she can't complain about that anymore…
How are you? I hope 'they' have learned to behave. If they haven't yet, don't hesitate to write me, and I'll make sure to send Moody and Tonks… those two, together, could convince a house-elf to ask for a three-month *paid* vacation! :) Speaking of Tonks, she told me she's visited you a few times. I bet Mrs Dursley fears her more than the rest of us put together… in fact, Tonks told me how she 'accidentally' tripped on that piece of furniture, knocking down two of Mrs Dursley's most precious vases… :)
Again, you've asked me when you'll be able to leave the Dursleys. I won't point out that now they know they're constantly being watched so they won't treat you half as bad as they used to… but I understand your restlessness. Believe me, it's just a matter of a couple of weeks or so. We have to improve the safety spells on our headquarters, and then you will be able to join us.
So far, nothing new has happened, and I'm not saying It ' just because'. Really, nothing's happening.
I'm sending you a small present along with the letter, I hope you get it.
Write back, should anything be wrong.
In the meanwhile, take care. And EAT!
Yours sincerely,
Remus J. Lupin
Pathetic, he thought. Had there been a contest called 'hypocrisies of the century', he'd have won first price, no question about it. He wrote to Harry as if he was in some sort of wonderful place, instead than a family who hated him and had to be watched twenty-four seven to make sure they didn't hurt him, or throw him out… In fact, Harry had only replied a couple of times so far, and every time his letters consisted of a couple of lines jotted on a torn piece of parchment… all saying the same thing, basically: he wanted to get away from his uncle's house. He'd had enough of them. Some of his anger and pain had subsided, but Lupin knew the boy needed someone to talk with, someone that would *understand* him like Hermione and Ron, or even Dumbledore could not. But he wasn't ready. Not yet.
"Not ever…" he sadly whispered to the empty room, then realized he was walking down a dangerous path and shook himself.
He was so damn tired… he still couldn't sleep well, and his dreams were more like nightmares, always haunted… at least he was thankful that he never remembered them in the morning. But he knew what they were about anyway.
And if the moment hums with something deep and low
Hold on, hold on…
And if your timing comes like you're a single soul
Hold on, hold on…
"Stop that!" He said out loud, his temper rising. He tore his letter and threw it into the fire, then kicked the chair with all his might, sending it crashing to the floor.
He suddenly felt drained, realizing it was no use taking it out on the furniture…
Just then, there was a knock on the door.
"Tomorrow!" he called, distractedly, picking up the chair and setting it up straight in its original position near the desk. Another knock, this time more impatient.
"Go away… I'm not…decent!" He improvised, and it sounded ridiculous even as he said it.
"Well, you'd better put something on, then get your stupid self here and open the door *this instant*, because I'm not waiting any longer." Came the cold reply. Damn, it was Snape.
He sighed and went to the door, opening it. Snape raised an eyebrow at him.
"How quick." He simply said.
"I'm not in the mood, Snape. What do you want?" He grimaced at the harshness of his own tone, and the ugly, unpleasant smile Snape gave him made him feel like a student caught cheating at a potions exam. What had he done wrong?
"Forgot something?" He simply said, ignoring Lupin's harshness.
Lupin looked at him in confusion… and then he understood. Oh. Shit.
"I was waiting for you to come and ask me; maybe I could trust you a bit, I thought. Leave it to me to make that mistake. Here." He handed Lupin the usual bottle with the usual stinky wolfsbane potion inside.
Lupin swallowed hard. This time he had really forgotten all about it… he couldn't go on like that. The Wolfsbane potion had to be taken every day, each of the seven days preceding and following the full moon. With no exception. He took the bottle with shaking hands.
"Merlin, Severus. Thank you. I don't know what's gotten into me lately… I can't think straight anymore." With that, he emptied the bottle in a whole long gulp, while Snape surveyed him with his unreadable charcoal-black eyes.
"At least you didn't take the Oblivion yet. That might have complicated things a bit." Right. Because the Oblivion put everyone who drank it in a kind of comatose state or something, he'd heard. He wasn't sure, but he seemed to recall a book in which it was stressed how the potion had slightly different ways of affecting people.
"No, I…" Lupin searched for words. "I thought I'd wait and see if I can… make it on my own…for a while."
He sounded pathetic, and knew Snape was thinking the same thing.
"Go to bed, Lupin. Get some sleep." He said, and as Lupin's eyes looked at him in surprise, he hastily added: "You're no use to the Order in this conditions. We are all so caught up with keeping Mr Potter safe," and here his voice became even lower, unable to disguise how much he hated the mere mention of the boy's name, "We don't need an aggressive werewolf worsening the situation."
He definitely had a point there, Lupin thought. But what in the world could he do? It was hard enough to live with himself, he surely didn't need someone else to give him 'suggestions'. By Merlin, even Dumbledore had realized it was better to just let him be! At the same time though, he realized that Snape was right. He *was* behaving like a child. He knew what he had to do, but was afraid to do it. No, 'afraid' wasn't the right word. It was 'dread', pure fear like he hadn't felt in a long time…
Lupin snapped back to reality, only to find Snape's eyebrow so arched up that it almost disappeared at the base of his black, greasy hair.
"Sorry. I'm tired." He offered again, lamely.
Snape looked at him impassively, then glanced at the room behind Lupin. It didn't even look like someone lived there. The essential furniture –a small bed, a table with a chair beside it, and a dresser– looked really old and tattered, but it wasn't Black's. How odd. There were no pictures on the walls, no decorations at all. It looked like a hermit's cave.
The potions master finally spoke up, deliberately ignoring Lupin's pathetic efforts at dismissing him.
"Do you want some Dreamless Sleep potion to take until the full moon? It won't interfere with the Wolfsbane potion." Lupin tried to act as if he'd just been asked the time or something… but inside he was more than just surprised. It wasn't like Snape to actually offer to help people. He thought about it, then shook his head.
"No, than you. Luckily my brain seems to cooperate, at least in this. I either don't dream, or I don't remember them. So it's okay."
"Well, it's impossible that you don't dream at all, so I'll cross out the first possibility, and as far as the second is concerned… I'm afraid our mind slips if we don't take good care of it." He replied, his voice disapproving and professional at the same time.
"I know. But it's just a phase. It'll pass." Lupin tried to shrug and failed miserably.
"Yes. Keep telling yourself that. But I'm not gonna shed a tear should your transformation be too much for your 'just tired' body. If you don't want to discuss your issues with Dumbledore, at least you should consider taking some Dreamless for a while."
Snape was being as civil as he could with Lupin, and if his mind hadn't been somewhere else, the werewolf would've rejoiced. As it was, though, he just shook his head, running his fingers through his gray-stricken hair.
"I really don't think…"
"Suit yourself." Snape said shortly. 'There's no reasoning with this idiot', he'd written all over his face. He turned to leave, but before disappearing in the dark corridor, he said:
"Should you change your mind tomorrow, I'll have some extra Dreamless with me."
Lupin closed the door. Two more nights, and it'd be over, for another month at least. He'd come this far, he couldn't let go just now. After the full moon, everything would be better. Or at least, easier. He knew that from experience. In any case, he'd lock himself up in the cage they'd built for him in the unfortunate possibility that Snape might not be able to prepare him the Wolfsbane potion, and he'd wait for the night to be over. No one would be in the house that night, but he didn't want to risk anyway.
He took off his robes, then lay down on the bed.
He was asleep before his head touched the pillow.
******************
So this was charter Two.
What do you think of it? Sucks? Like it?
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Cheers everybody!
The song is "Hold On" by Mary Beth