Chapter Seven
"What do you mean, 'he's not here'?!" Remus almost snarled at McGonagall. A long suppressed desire to shout and scream suddenly boiled upward out of his subconscious and he fought the dangerous urge. The wolf stirred, then settled as he closed his eyes and focused on breathing deeply.
"Remus, tell me what's wrong," McGonagall pulled her tartan sleeping robes tighter against the chill damp of the stone hallway.
Remus' head thrummed with warring emotion, but the events of the previous thirty minutes - was it only thirty minutes? - refused to coalesce into anything coherent.
"Snape - he's lying on the floor of the staffroom, stoned out of his mind on some drug, and I gave it to him, because he looked like he was going to die, he started crying..." He paused for a breath. "I don't know what to do."
McGonagall looked down at the worn flagstones beneath her slippered feet. "Remus..." She paused, as if weighing the words on her tongue. "Remus, Severus has made many errors in his life. He has also worked hard to rectify his mistakes." She paused again, and looked up. When she continued, her Scottish burr was thick and heavy. "He has fought long and hard to break his addiction to heroin."
"The Muggle narcotic?" Remus asked softly. "How did he -"
"Come upstairs and let's have some tea. I'm sure the Headmaster would not object to our borrowing his office for the discussion of such a delicate topic, hm?" She stepped brusquely up the corridor, heavy sleeping robes sweeping behind her, and stopped before the stone Gargoyle.
Remus followed his former professor up the rotating staircase and paused behind her as she pressed a hand to the door and entered the warm, circular tower room. A glissando of delicate notes chimed against Remus' ears and he turned to see the phoenix stretching his tapered wings before folding his head back into the downy scarlet feathers of his breast.
He turned back to see McGonagall start the fireplace with a swish of her wand before sitting in one of the overstuffed, brightly colored armchairs. Remus felt a faint relief that she hadn't sat behind the desk: Dumbledore's absence was conspicuous enough without her taking his place.
"Where ::is:: Albus, anyway?" He asked absently. To his surprise, McGonagall answered his question. She must want to avoid the topic of Snape as long as possible too, he mused.
"He's on Order business. I believe he's in Brazil, speaking with some of their native witches and wizards. They have powerful earth magic there, and almost all of the adults are Animagi. They would be a powerful force in the fight against Y - Lord Voldemort."
She stirred her tea, which had materialized, along with a silver tray, teapot, cream, sugar, and cups, on a side table. Grateful for something to do with his hands, Remus grabbed a cup and held it close to his chest, forcing his mind back to the matter at hand. "So, about Severus..."
McGonagall took a few moments to contemplate the fire and Remus felt an odd sense of deja vu. She finally looked up and turned toward Remus. "Severus... is not a happy man. As you may recall, he was not a terribly happy child, either."
She paused and examined her tea. "I believe he came across this particular method of anxiety relief during his time as a follower of - of Lord Voldemort." She sighed. "And now, he's relapsed. I ::told:: Albus the stress of acting as double agent was too much for the boy."
Remus felt a deep regret settle over his bones. McGonagall leaned back into her red and violet armchair and sipped her tea. "A knut for your thoughts, Remus."
"I..." He didn't really know what his thoughts were. "I... guess..." He put down his teacup with more force than necessary, flinching slightly as it rattled on its saucer. "Thinking about it makes me feel rather ill. For someone of such intelligence... such skill..."
"And such pain. He comes off as a snarky bastard -" She laughed at Remus' surprised expression - "And he is a snarky bastard, no excuse - but he's not had it easy. His beginning was bad, and he never really had a chance to recover."
"But why? Why heroin?"
"Well, for one, it's relatively inexpensive and easy to find if you know where to look, and the Snapes are a notoriously poor Pureblood family. For any more on the 'why,' you'll have to ask him yourself."
Remus digested this information, Snape's financial situation turning restlessly in his head. He had always seen Slytherins as rich, spoiled, bigoted brats. He picked up his teacup absently and spoke almost to himself. "I always figured that he was wealthy, with his attitude."
Remus cringed inwardly at the memory of the small, dark haired Slytherin boy hurling invectives concerning Remus' poverty and casting aspersions on the origins of his family's meager income with a venom that, in retrospect, Remus saw was fueled by personal experience.
The two sat in contemplative silence until Remus suddenly jumped to his feet. "Snape! I left him in the Staffroom!"
*********
The familiar soothing, warm contentment glowed through his every fiber, easing frayed nerves and sealing cracks and chinks in his carapace. In a disconnected way, appearing so weak in front of the werewolf appalled him, but the feelings were burned out by the intense, narcotic-induced pleasure.
This is the way it should always be, he thought dreamily. He felt that, if he mustered the energy, he would be able to see his thoughts written in a scrawling hand across his eyelids. However, he felt absolutely no need to do so.
*********
"Shouldn't we do something? Take him to his quarters?" Remus paced with the frenetic energy of someone who was running on their last reserves of energy. McGonagall stood slowly, feeling her age in the slight twinge in her knees and back.
"If you insist, Remus, but he'll be less touchy if he thinks that we 'didn't notice anything unusual' and so figured that he was fine on his own."
She banished the tea tray with a flick of her wand before striding to the door. "Either way, let's head to the staffroom and see what the situation is." She descended the staircase, Remus in tow. "Thank goodness this is all happening over the summer holidays," She muttered as they headed down the corridor.
*********
Remus pushed open the door to the staffroom and held it open for McGonagall to precede him. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting - possibly Snape in convulsions, blood splattered walls, or some other gruesome display of violence.
He was not prepared to see Snape slumped peacefully in an armchair, feet stretched towards the remains of the fire. His face was completely slack, and he was so still that he would have appeared dead if it weren't for the hot flush of his cheeks.
Remus stared. Snape's left sleeve had been pushed up past the elbow, and the Dark Mark leered in malignant triumph above the long lines of scars. Remus had never actually seen the Mark on someone's arm before, and had to look away, stomach churning. "Should we wake him up?"
McGonagall bent and scooped up the vial, which had rolled against he side of another chair. The needle sat on the side table beside Snape. "Perhaps." Remus could see a tear etch its way down McGonagall's face, the warm, dim glow of the dying fire turning it into a spark of light. She sat down in the same chair she had occupied earlier, rolling the small vial between her hands.
Remus dropped into the last chair and tried to calm his whirling thoughts and memories. He looked up to say something, then dropped his gaze again before finally addressing the floor.
"D'you think that when... when Sirius tried to - to kill him, that that's when Snape went bad?" He paused for a breath. "Or maybe when, after the DADA OWL's, he and James ah, picked on him? I should have stood up to them. Harry said -"
"Remus, stop that pointless hypothesizing. It'll do no good. Believe me." McGonagall's voice was rough and she cleared her throat. "I personally don't think anyone ever suddenly 'turns bad.' People are complicated creatures, and their motives are often a convoluted tangle of associations and emotions. I'm not saying that his experiences as a student didn't have an impact, but, as I said, his beginning was bad and he never really had a chance to recover."
"Harry didn't exactly have -" Remus tried, but McGonagall cut him off.
"Harry is a different person, and his situation is different. Remember that. I would speculate that part of Severus' extreme dislike of the boy stems from his jealousy that Harry was, for the most part, able to overcome his upbringing.
"Harry, however, knew that he had been loved and wanted by someone, while Severus knew that his parents had married to avoid embarrassment. His father never let him forget it." She sighed and closed her eyes, leaning back in her chair.
"How do you know all this?" Remus asked, finally looking up from the carpet.
"A teacher always makes it her duty to know about her students, even those not in her own House," She responded with finality.
After a few moments of silence, Remus stretched and forced his exhausted mind back into action before turning to McGonagall. "Well, I'll take him back to his rooms, then..." He rubbed at sleep-rimmed eyes and stifled another yawn.
They both stood in silence, lost in their own thoughts, before Remus finally pulled out his wand.
"Mobilicorpus!" Snape's body rose bonelessly from the chair, his sleeve sliding back down to cover his pale arm and hide the baleful death's head glare. Remus, emotions and thoughts scraped raw by exhaustion and stress, felt his throat close and his eyes blur with tears.
He had never particularly liked Snape, but... he looked so lifeless, dangling in the air. The memory of the fateful night in the Shrieking Shack two years ago left his hand shaking, but a few deep breaths steadied his nerves. He bid farewell to McGonagall.
It was a long, dreary trudge back down to the dungeons, and standing in front of the shield guarding Snape's private quarters Remus realized that he didn't know the password. With an almost audible crack, his nerve snapped and he kicked the door, then again and again.
The hollow bangs echoed down the dark corridors, and Remus added his fists to the assault. The wolf awoke, circled, and began pacing restlessly in the back of Remus subconscious, and he slid to the floor, back against the still reverberating metal of Snape's door.
He buried his head in his arms and sat, sobs wrenching through his stiff shoulders and shivering from the damp cold of the dungeons. He soon drifted into an uneasy sleep, Snape slumped against the wall beside him.
*********
"What do you mean, 'he's not here'?!" Remus almost snarled at McGonagall. A long suppressed desire to shout and scream suddenly boiled upward out of his subconscious and he fought the dangerous urge. The wolf stirred, then settled as he closed his eyes and focused on breathing deeply.
"Remus, tell me what's wrong," McGonagall pulled her tartan sleeping robes tighter against the chill damp of the stone hallway.
Remus' head thrummed with warring emotion, but the events of the previous thirty minutes - was it only thirty minutes? - refused to coalesce into anything coherent.
"Snape - he's lying on the floor of the staffroom, stoned out of his mind on some drug, and I gave it to him, because he looked like he was going to die, he started crying..." He paused for a breath. "I don't know what to do."
McGonagall looked down at the worn flagstones beneath her slippered feet. "Remus..." She paused, as if weighing the words on her tongue. "Remus, Severus has made many errors in his life. He has also worked hard to rectify his mistakes." She paused again, and looked up. When she continued, her Scottish burr was thick and heavy. "He has fought long and hard to break his addiction to heroin."
"The Muggle narcotic?" Remus asked softly. "How did he -"
"Come upstairs and let's have some tea. I'm sure the Headmaster would not object to our borrowing his office for the discussion of such a delicate topic, hm?" She stepped brusquely up the corridor, heavy sleeping robes sweeping behind her, and stopped before the stone Gargoyle.
Remus followed his former professor up the rotating staircase and paused behind her as she pressed a hand to the door and entered the warm, circular tower room. A glissando of delicate notes chimed against Remus' ears and he turned to see the phoenix stretching his tapered wings before folding his head back into the downy scarlet feathers of his breast.
He turned back to see McGonagall start the fireplace with a swish of her wand before sitting in one of the overstuffed, brightly colored armchairs. Remus felt a faint relief that she hadn't sat behind the desk: Dumbledore's absence was conspicuous enough without her taking his place.
"Where ::is:: Albus, anyway?" He asked absently. To his surprise, McGonagall answered his question. She must want to avoid the topic of Snape as long as possible too, he mused.
"He's on Order business. I believe he's in Brazil, speaking with some of their native witches and wizards. They have powerful earth magic there, and almost all of the adults are Animagi. They would be a powerful force in the fight against Y - Lord Voldemort."
She stirred her tea, which had materialized, along with a silver tray, teapot, cream, sugar, and cups, on a side table. Grateful for something to do with his hands, Remus grabbed a cup and held it close to his chest, forcing his mind back to the matter at hand. "So, about Severus..."
McGonagall took a few moments to contemplate the fire and Remus felt an odd sense of deja vu. She finally looked up and turned toward Remus. "Severus... is not a happy man. As you may recall, he was not a terribly happy child, either."
She paused and examined her tea. "I believe he came across this particular method of anxiety relief during his time as a follower of - of Lord Voldemort." She sighed. "And now, he's relapsed. I ::told:: Albus the stress of acting as double agent was too much for the boy."
Remus felt a deep regret settle over his bones. McGonagall leaned back into her red and violet armchair and sipped her tea. "A knut for your thoughts, Remus."
"I..." He didn't really know what his thoughts were. "I... guess..." He put down his teacup with more force than necessary, flinching slightly as it rattled on its saucer. "Thinking about it makes me feel rather ill. For someone of such intelligence... such skill..."
"And such pain. He comes off as a snarky bastard -" She laughed at Remus' surprised expression - "And he is a snarky bastard, no excuse - but he's not had it easy. His beginning was bad, and he never really had a chance to recover."
"But why? Why heroin?"
"Well, for one, it's relatively inexpensive and easy to find if you know where to look, and the Snapes are a notoriously poor Pureblood family. For any more on the 'why,' you'll have to ask him yourself."
Remus digested this information, Snape's financial situation turning restlessly in his head. He had always seen Slytherins as rich, spoiled, bigoted brats. He picked up his teacup absently and spoke almost to himself. "I always figured that he was wealthy, with his attitude."
Remus cringed inwardly at the memory of the small, dark haired Slytherin boy hurling invectives concerning Remus' poverty and casting aspersions on the origins of his family's meager income with a venom that, in retrospect, Remus saw was fueled by personal experience.
The two sat in contemplative silence until Remus suddenly jumped to his feet. "Snape! I left him in the Staffroom!"
*********
The familiar soothing, warm contentment glowed through his every fiber, easing frayed nerves and sealing cracks and chinks in his carapace. In a disconnected way, appearing so weak in front of the werewolf appalled him, but the feelings were burned out by the intense, narcotic-induced pleasure.
This is the way it should always be, he thought dreamily. He felt that, if he mustered the energy, he would be able to see his thoughts written in a scrawling hand across his eyelids. However, he felt absolutely no need to do so.
*********
"Shouldn't we do something? Take him to his quarters?" Remus paced with the frenetic energy of someone who was running on their last reserves of energy. McGonagall stood slowly, feeling her age in the slight twinge in her knees and back.
"If you insist, Remus, but he'll be less touchy if he thinks that we 'didn't notice anything unusual' and so figured that he was fine on his own."
She banished the tea tray with a flick of her wand before striding to the door. "Either way, let's head to the staffroom and see what the situation is." She descended the staircase, Remus in tow. "Thank goodness this is all happening over the summer holidays," She muttered as they headed down the corridor.
*********
Remus pushed open the door to the staffroom and held it open for McGonagall to precede him. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting - possibly Snape in convulsions, blood splattered walls, or some other gruesome display of violence.
He was not prepared to see Snape slumped peacefully in an armchair, feet stretched towards the remains of the fire. His face was completely slack, and he was so still that he would have appeared dead if it weren't for the hot flush of his cheeks.
Remus stared. Snape's left sleeve had been pushed up past the elbow, and the Dark Mark leered in malignant triumph above the long lines of scars. Remus had never actually seen the Mark on someone's arm before, and had to look away, stomach churning. "Should we wake him up?"
McGonagall bent and scooped up the vial, which had rolled against he side of another chair. The needle sat on the side table beside Snape. "Perhaps." Remus could see a tear etch its way down McGonagall's face, the warm, dim glow of the dying fire turning it into a spark of light. She sat down in the same chair she had occupied earlier, rolling the small vial between her hands.
Remus dropped into the last chair and tried to calm his whirling thoughts and memories. He looked up to say something, then dropped his gaze again before finally addressing the floor.
"D'you think that when... when Sirius tried to - to kill him, that that's when Snape went bad?" He paused for a breath. "Or maybe when, after the DADA OWL's, he and James ah, picked on him? I should have stood up to them. Harry said -"
"Remus, stop that pointless hypothesizing. It'll do no good. Believe me." McGonagall's voice was rough and she cleared her throat. "I personally don't think anyone ever suddenly 'turns bad.' People are complicated creatures, and their motives are often a convoluted tangle of associations and emotions. I'm not saying that his experiences as a student didn't have an impact, but, as I said, his beginning was bad and he never really had a chance to recover."
"Harry didn't exactly have -" Remus tried, but McGonagall cut him off.
"Harry is a different person, and his situation is different. Remember that. I would speculate that part of Severus' extreme dislike of the boy stems from his jealousy that Harry was, for the most part, able to overcome his upbringing.
"Harry, however, knew that he had been loved and wanted by someone, while Severus knew that his parents had married to avoid embarrassment. His father never let him forget it." She sighed and closed her eyes, leaning back in her chair.
"How do you know all this?" Remus asked, finally looking up from the carpet.
"A teacher always makes it her duty to know about her students, even those not in her own House," She responded with finality.
After a few moments of silence, Remus stretched and forced his exhausted mind back into action before turning to McGonagall. "Well, I'll take him back to his rooms, then..." He rubbed at sleep-rimmed eyes and stifled another yawn.
They both stood in silence, lost in their own thoughts, before Remus finally pulled out his wand.
"Mobilicorpus!" Snape's body rose bonelessly from the chair, his sleeve sliding back down to cover his pale arm and hide the baleful death's head glare. Remus, emotions and thoughts scraped raw by exhaustion and stress, felt his throat close and his eyes blur with tears.
He had never particularly liked Snape, but... he looked so lifeless, dangling in the air. The memory of the fateful night in the Shrieking Shack two years ago left his hand shaking, but a few deep breaths steadied his nerves. He bid farewell to McGonagall.
It was a long, dreary trudge back down to the dungeons, and standing in front of the shield guarding Snape's private quarters Remus realized that he didn't know the password. With an almost audible crack, his nerve snapped and he kicked the door, then again and again.
The hollow bangs echoed down the dark corridors, and Remus added his fists to the assault. The wolf awoke, circled, and began pacing restlessly in the back of Remus subconscious, and he slid to the floor, back against the still reverberating metal of Snape's door.
He buried his head in his arms and sat, sobs wrenching through his stiff shoulders and shivering from the damp cold of the dungeons. He soon drifted into an uneasy sleep, Snape slumped against the wall beside him.
*********