Author's Notes

1) First of all, a heartfelt 'thank you' to those who reviewed. I love you guys!!!

2) Gee… I hate to say it… but I'm afraid Snape has gone WAY out of character (I hate it, believe me, I'm always the first who criticize out-of-character characters).

It's just that if I wanted to make the story believable, I had to dig deeper into the minds of the characters… Hope it didn't turn out too bad….. anyway let me now what you think of it!!! ^__^

********** CHAPTER FOUR **********

"Yes?" Came the annoyed reply from behind the closed door.

"I-uh. I brought you some tea. Dumbledore said…" He tried.

"Mmph." It sounded suspiciously like an invitation to go in.

He twisted the doorknob and entered slowly, trying not to spill the content of his tray with his shaking hand. Damn, he had to stop making tea in every occasion… he was beginning to hate the mere smell of it.

Snape was in the same position as before, but the cloth had disappeared from his forhead, and some color had returned to his face. Both were good signs. His eyes were more lively than ever.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

"How do you think I am feeling?" Was the sarcastic answer. Good. Sarcasm was Snape's middle name, so he was really feeling better. Lupin half-smiled.

"Good. Is there anything I can…"

"Dumbledore told you, did he not?" Snape cut him off.

Lupin shifted uncomfortably.

"Not all. Just the main, uh, facts."

Snape closed his eyes briefly, and when they opened again they were fixed on the ceiling above him.

"So, you came to laugh at my stupidity?"

"You know that's not why I'm here, Severus." Lupin shook his head.

"Right. You brought tea."

Okay. This was getting awkward. He had hoped Snape would be a little more –understanding, under these circumstances.

"I did." He said simply, sighing. "You want some?"

"I suppose." Snape gave in. He slowly sat up, swearing under his breath as his hurt muscles refused to cooperate; but he raised a hand to keep Lupin away when he made to help him.

When the potions master found a position that wouldn't pressure his injured limbs too much, Lupin gave him a cup of warm tea, with 'no sugar, thank you', and poured some for himself too. Then he sat down on the chair a few feet away from the bed.

They sipped it quietly, each apparently lost in thought, but actually being very conscious of the other's presence. It wasn't necessarily a bad feeling, Lupin realized.

"So." Snape broke the silence after a while, as the clock stroke ten pm. "Made up your mind about the Dreamless Sleep potion yet?" He casually inquired, his voice still a bit croaky.

"Yes, I have."

"And?"

"And… I'm afraid my answer is no. Again." Lupin tried to make it clear he didn't want to go further into that conversation. Of course Snape, stubborn bastard as he was, persisted.

"But…why?" The potions master's brow was furrowed. "You were ready to take the Oblivion, I can't see why you're so skeptic about the Dreamless." He'd taken it as a kind of personal insult, Lupin thought.

He wanted to just get up and walk out, but he didn't miss Snape's once again fast breathing. The wizard was in pain, and if talking distracted him in some way… well, Lupin wanted to help in any way he could.

"I'm not skeptic about it. I just…" He paused trying to find the right words, then decided the truth was better and far less complicated. "I want to make it without that stuff. The Oblivion is just… well, let's say I'll use it only if I need it. And I mean, really need it. So of course, the day after the full moon will be perfect. But you know what? Maybe  I won't even need it." He added, more as to convince himself rather than Snape. Yes, because the Oblivion wasn't a thing one just asked, without truly meaning to use it. And Snape knew it. He'd been moved on some kind of level by Lupin's request, and he certainly wouldn't have gone through so much just to brew him some of that potion, if he thought Lupin would not attempt using it.

"Did you talk with Dumbledore?" Snape asked, his gaze fixed on the wall opposite the bed while he put the cup down to the bedside table.

"I told you. He's got more important things to do at the moment. I can deal with this."

"The Headmaster has always time for everyone." He said, matter-of-factly.

"Then maybe I don't want his help." Lupin realized too late that his tone had been a bit harsh.

"That explains a lot." Snape nodded briefly, as though it was something he'd always suspected.

"I mean. It's for me alone to deal, Severus. And that's something I can't do right now. I'm not ready. Now can we talk about something else, please?" Lupin tried again, surprised by his own earnestness.

Snape glanced at him then, his eyes glittering with something Lupin couldn't quite place. He noticed the potions master's fists were clentched.

"Do you know why that bitch was so mad at me?"

Lupin started, both for the unexpected question and because Snape had actually never uttered the word 'bitch' in front of him. He just shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

"Insubordination." He said, through gritted teeth.

Lupin looked at him questioningly.

"I informed her of my utter disappointment on how she had handled the situation at the Ministry… How she had not even been able to kill a fifteen-year-old boy…" He made a small pause, as if he was –ashamed?– of what came next. "…and how she made a fool out of herself, showing off like that for taking down a man who was anyway considered to be on the Dark Lord's side. Not a smart move, considering she's just managed to clear his name…"

Lupin was suddenly on his feet, staring in shock at the potions master. But Snape was going to finish what he'd started to say.

"If we'd been able to demonstrate that Dumbledore was hiding him, we might have been able to fuss the Ministry over, turning it against Dumbledore. The Dark Lord didn't like it one bit, and Lastrange… well, let's say she didn't enjoy being criticized like that…"

Lupin bit his lip until he drew blood, striving to keep calm.

"Why are you telling me this?" he demanded.

"You were just dying to know, Lupin, weren't you?"

"Why? Why did you say those things? It's not like you at all." Lupin forced the words out of his mouth, the anger making him more earnest. But he managed to sit down again.

"You would be surprised." Snape answered bitterly, as if he had been shocked too at the words he'd had the nerve to utter in front of Bellatrix Lastrange.

Suddenly Lupin felt tired. So damn tired. Either he calmed down *now*, or he'd burst. He opted for the first. He sighed, closing his eyes, going back to his normal self.

"I appreciate what you're trying to tell me, Severus. I really do. I just-it's too much. I'm not ready to talk about it."

He shrugged earnestly. "Call me childish. Call me all you want."

"Coward?" Snape suggested matter-of-factly.

"Yeah. I think that's the word." Lupin agreed, then stood up again. "I'm gonna make you some dinner. I'll be back in half an hour."

He made to leave, but Snape called him back.

"Do you really think I'll want to be anywhere near food for the next twenty hours?" Snape's annoyed voice was back.

"Well, you've got to eat something. Dumbledore said…"

"Yeah, look who's talking. A few more weeks and we might hang your head along with the other house-elves'.

"I'll be back in half an hour." Lupin said firmly, and was gone.

*****

As soon as he was out, Snape inhaled deeply, his fists clenching to his sides. Merlin, but it hurt! Of course, he knew how to control himself perfectly when others were around… it had taken him years of practice. Luckily, when he was alone he allowed himself a bit more freedom. He cursed under his breath, his hand gripping the fabric in his chest. He felt like his lungs had been crushed by a troll sitting on him. They were only slowly starting to function properly. Also, his throat was dry from all the talking, and his head was spinning like mad.

At least the Headmaster's potion had gotten rid of the main sore feelings in his limbs and back… nevertheless, he had to find something else to focus on, rather than his pain.

And there was his mind, drifting back to the wizard who had just left the room. His only living sworn enemy. The person who'd watched after him the whole day.

In quite a state, the werewolf was. A few weeks, and he'd truly be able to pass right through doors.

Dumbledore had warned him, but… Stubborn as he was, the brat was willing to waste away rather than face the facts.

Snape would never admit it to himself, but he sort of admired Lupin for that.

Was this the reason why he'd told the other wizard about his argument with Lastrange?

But most of all, why did he suddenly care? Well, it wasn't like he actually cared… but he felt less detached than usual, and hated every second of it. He just wished the werewolf would get a grip on himself and accept Black's death. He'd accepted it once, after all…

The truth was, Lupin had always been mild and submissive, even coward. He remembered how he hated him for that, as a boy. And as a defense against the dark arts teacher too –if not more. And yet, no matter how he was being treated by other people, the werewolf never lost his pleasant, forthcoming attitude. He was the only one besides Dumbledore who hadn't fallen for Snape's sarcasm and cynicism. And that *was* definitely something. Then again, maybe it was just guilt over their school-days grudge…

In any case, everyone had thought Lupin's mild nature was just that: his nature.

The last month had proved everyone wrong. The change in the werewolf had been startling. He'd become even closer than he had been, and had lost every light he once had in him. Snape saw how people had become more and more worried about him. But in the end they'd all given up –even Dumbledore had let him be– thinking he needed to sort out his own pain by himself. And what a surprise it had been to all, discovering it had been much easier to deal with 'wise old Lupin', rather than with 'sad new Lupin'.

But Snape knew better now. Lupin was *not* going to confront Black's death, if he could help it. And by doing that, he would become a ghost. The ghost of his former self.

Life had not been kind to the werewolf, Snape had to admit it, so what was the use in worsening the situation by destroying what strength he had left with nasty comments and snappy comebacks?

You were searching for a soul
Tearing yourself apart
Just to become a whole oh
You were walking down the road
Only to find your reflection
In the puddles below

Snape had kept many secrets in his life. He definitely recognized one when he saw it in other people. He might not know what the secret was about, but he always had this fluttering sensation in the pit of his stomach. Just like every time he caught Potter doing something he shouldn't have done… he always knew when the boy was lying, the stupid useless brat.

But what did Lupin have to hide? Why didn't he just wear his pain openly? Was he afraid of what others would think of him? 

Uh oh you're soul searching
I see that dangerous look in your eyes
Uh oh you're soul searching
But is a soul really worth your whole life

What was he struggling against?

Gee, he was one of the apples of Dumbledore's eyes, just like any other Gryffindor… just like Granger, Weasley and Potter were, and Black and Potter senior had been before them. Yes, the headmaster definitely had a soft spot for them.

And they all ran to him for comfort, whenever something went wrong, whenever they felt they couldn't face something alone. Hell, hadn't Snape himself done that, too often than he could count?

Yet, Lupin didn't. He seemed to have cut bonds with *everybody*.

Snape had never had friends. Not actual, true friends. Was that a normal reaction Lupin was experiencing, at having lost his?

In these circles you seem to go
Never finding the centre
Never finding your way home
And do you ever see yourself
When you look in the mirror
Or is it a reflection of everyone else
 
So, yeah. He'd only started to talk with Lupin because Dumbledore had wanted him to –and let's face it, it was a lot better than dealing with Black. 
But now, he had gotten somewhat curious about this new side of the werewolf. So different from the idea of him he'd pictured in his head during Pothead's third year… 
So many things he couldn't understand…
 
And there's a part of me that
Wants to shake you
And tell you there's no such thing
As a soul anyway
 
It was almost funny. Only two years ago he'd been ready –not to mention more than happy– to hand him to the Dementors along with Black. And while his feelings for the latter hadn't really changed –'and yet you defended him against Lastrange, didn't you?' teased a voice inside his head– he had come to think of Lupin as a valuable wizard. A person, not just a 'werewolf' anymore. Not 'the' werewolf anymore, the beast, the monster who'd almost killed him years before. He'd discussed him with Dumbledore many times, and with himself even more.
Did he dislike Lupin because he'd been a Marauder or because he regretted the way they'd treated Snape at school? He didn't want anybody to feel sorry for him, that enraged him more than other people's hate ever could. But how could someone stay mad at Lupin for more than a couple of days? Even Moody seemed to be less…moody, when Lupin was around. Or at least, he used to, because now it was another story.
Snape knew he should *hate* him, fiercely, for all the good he had in him. Instead, he simply 'disliked' him. Maybe because he didn't carry it around with the same self-absorbed, big-headed attitude the others two had…
He disliked him and respected him at the same time. 
How Dumbledore had smiled at that realization!
 
*******************
 
Lupin exited the room silently, then stopped for a second, and heard muffled growls coming from the inside. Snape was a good actor, he had to give him that, pretending to be okay when he was actually in such pain.
Lupin was really impressed. Self-control was something he'd had to deal with everyday of his life, so he understood what it meant. All the more remarkable was the fact that Snape endured *physical* pain without blinking. 
The wizard quickly went downstairs. 'I'll let you breathe for some time, Severus', he thought, as he went to the kitchen and began to prepare some food. Luckily, Mrs Weasley had left quite an amount of food easy to prepare with the simple wave of a wand. And considering how little Lupin had eaten in these past few weeks, it was no wonder the food was almost all still there. 
The wizard prepared some sandwiches, then busied himself in the kitchen for some time, he even checked the corridors of the house and the hall , just out of spite. But after thirty-five minutes or so, he found himself forced to go back and check on Snape. He doubted he'd be able to get the potions master to actually eat something, but if he left there a tray with the food, he might want to taste something later that night. 
He tried to avoid thinking about something in particular, but of course his mind kept on going back to Snape's words. Why the hell had he let such a comment slip at the presence of Bellatrix Lastrange, if he wasn't even ready to day it out loud to any of the members of the Order? Well, he'd just told him to Lupin, hadn't he.
No, he wouldn't think about it. He'd understood what Snape had meant. He just wasn't going to process it now. One day to the full moon. Then he'd take the Oblivion and get some much needed sleep, and then…then what? What would happen next?
He ate a small sandwich, than put the rest on a dish and placed them on the tray, along with some plain water. After the potion and that damn tea, he reckoned Snape would only stand drinking water –besides, the potion made the throat and mouth very dry.
He slowly climbed up the stairs, but when he was a few feet away from Snape's door, he made sure he was walking loudly, pounding his feet on the ground, as to make the potions master know he was about to go in.  
He got to the door, and knocked on it. No answer came this time, and after debating whether to just leave or go in anyways he opted for the latter. He softly pushed the door open…
 
*******************
 
Damn, Snape thought, as a pang of pain ran through his right leg, and he hissed in pain. The effects of the potion were wearing off. He checked the watch: eleven pm. Time to take some more of that miraculous liquid. He slowly sat up on the bed, his back protesting at the increased pressure as he tried to stand up; his limbs refused to cooperate, and his head almost had him tumbling over. He gripped one of the bedposts as tightly as he could. Maybe he'd underestimated the bitch's skills at delivering Cruciatus Curses. He gritted his teeth, but didn't sit back down.
He manage to stumble to were his desk was, and his shaking hands found the jar with the precious concoction. The dark green liquid had barely touched his dry lips, when another sharp pain seized his right arm. He fell to his knees, his mind fogged, his left hand tightened around his right forearm. How could it be? So soon…? He then lost track of things for a moment.
 
When things became clearer, he realized he was not alone in the room anymore. Lupin had just come in, a tray full of food in his hand. 
"Severus." he put the tray down and rushed to him as fast as he could. 
'When will he learn not to call me by my first name?' was all the potions master could think of, clearly angered at the intrusion. He didn't need help. And most of all he didn't need Lupin to see him like this. No, sir. No way.
 
*******
 
"Hold back." The wizard warned Lupin, his voice low and dangerous, as the werewolf approached him.
"Here, let me help you." He offered him a hand, but Snape pushed it away. 
"I said hold back." He repeated, while struggling to get up again.
Lupin sighed and straightened up, reaching out for the potion instead.
"Sit down on the bed." He said, then his brow furrowed as he realized that Snape was clutching his right arm.
"Is Vol–is He summoning you?" He was taken aback too. 
Snape decided to just ignore his presence. He slowly rolled up his sleeves and began to examine his arm carefully. The Dark Mark was there, still visible against Snape's pale skin, but it was no longer throbbing; a sign, this, that the Death Eater was not being summoned to the Dark Lord. 
They both came to the conclusion that it must be Snape's body reacting to the series of Cruciatus he had endured. Snape seemed to relax visibly, though he still gritted his teeth in pain; and Lupin sighed again, this time from relief. 
"The potion. You'd better take it straight away." He carefully handed it to Snape, who took it with shaking hands, and drank the due amount in three long sips. Lupin caught it soon afterwards, and put it back on the desk where it was safe. Snape sank back on the bed, his hands clutching the mattress at his sides, the Dark Mark of a dark shade of pale in his ashen arm. Somehow Lupin couldn't tear away his eyes from it.
After a few moments, during which Snape's breathing slowed down to normal, the potions master looked up and saw the other wizard's gaze fixed on the Mark.  
Lupin cast his eyes down, heat creeping up his cheeks. Snape looked at him, an ugly smile twisting his lips.
"Wondering what it feels like, are you?" 
"No." Lupin said softly, but knowing in advance Snape would not believe him.
"Feeling sorry for me, then?" 
Suddenly old Snape was back. It was as if the Mark had reminded him where his place was– as a spy, a double-crosser, a dark wizard. A self-loathing, cynic pureblood who hated half-breeds and mudbloods.
"Don't put words in my mouth, Severus." Lupin replied firmly. 
It wasn't curiosity, what drew his gaze to the Dark Mark. No. It was… how to explain it… It represented the reason why he was stuck in this whole situation, the reason why he kept spending night after night laying awake in bed, unwilling to give in to sleep for fear that his emotion might take the better of him.
Snape seemed to get it, though, because he fell silent again. He stuck out his forearm and stared at it for a long moment, almost as if he was seeing it for the first time. Almost. He was considering something. Strange how he didn't feel ashamed to have it there, all gray and burning, for Lupin to see. 
"So what's it feel like?" The werewolf's voice sank to a whisper.
Snape looked up at him, startled. Then he became sober again. He seemed to be doing some hard thinking.
"I think I'll spare you for tonight." He answered resolutely.
Lupin started to say something, but Snape cut him off.
"Ask me some other time. Trust me, you do not want to hear what I have to say after being subjected to a Cruciatus. I've taken the potion. You can go now."
He was determined to end the conversation right there, right then. Lupin knew arguing would be absolutely useless. But maybe it was better this way, he thought as he slowly made for the door. Maybe it's true that I don't wanna hear.
"Goodnight, Severus." He said, knowing Snape would not answer. "The sandwiches are on the tray if you get hungry. And I reckon you'll manage to finish the potion." 
Snape glared at him with that I'm-not-the-childish-brat-you-idiot-(you are!)-look of his.
 
That night Lupin lay awake for a few hours, thinking about nothing but the housework he was going to do the next day, until exhaustion overtook him and he fell into a troubled sleep.
 
************************************

NOTE: So I introduced a piece from Snape's mind, did you notice? I feel like I owe you an explanation for that… If this fanfic is about Lupin, and his sole focus is on 'avoiding thinking about Sirius', I felt like I needed to picture his character from another point of view, one that wasn't his own. After much thinking, I thought it would be better to just use Snape.

First of all, you know Snape, he would never do anything unless either he gains something by doing it, OR there is something concerning Dumbledore. And secondly, my future chapters will be about Snape doing Lupin a favor. A HUGE one, in fact. So I had to build some background on that. Snape wouldn't just wake up one day with the idea of helping Lupin out –especially when he's considered him his enemy for 30 years…

Then I thought. Lupin is distraught. No one seems to know how to deal with that, though. They're too afraid to find out what's behind those sad eyes of his. To them, he's unreadable. But so is Snape. And this is a huge thing they have in common.

And if I can make Snape feel like he's in debt with Lupin…or even better, just make him feel sorry for the poor werewolf… then it's done!

I hope what I just wrote made some sense… ^__^

PS Hope you didn't find the song piece too creepy… even though it was from Snape's POV, I think it suited Lupin 'seen from the outside' quite well… the next chapter, of course, will deal with the 'insides'.

The song was "Soul Searching" by Chantal Kreviazuk.

READ AND REVIEW PLEASE!!!