Chapter Nine
Snape sat numbly at the small, scarred table in his tiny kitchen. Melancholy spiked with deep anger and fear swirled around him but did not pass through the deadening alcohol haze that swamped his mind. He could sense them lurking, but heard only their echoes.
::... why me?... why didn't I ever get a chance?... I did, from Dumbledore... but now you've fucked up royally *again*... you are sickening...::
::...I used to want to be someone... to be respected... now I just want it all to end. I thought I'd gotten away from that sodding needle... should have known I was too weak, weak...::
"Sharrup."
A shaking hand raised the bottle to his lips and sloshed stinging gin into his mouth and down his chin. The fumes burned at the membranes of his nose and the bottle slipped from numb fingers to smash loudly on the stone floor.
:: you pathetic drunk - just like your father...::
A heavy, unbearable wave of grief crushed him and he lowered his head to the table, a high keening escaping his throat as tears finally came. He sobbed senselessly, a crude outpouring of anguish without name or single origin.
As the tide began to recede, he followed it into unconsciousness.
*********
Remus straightened his shabby robes, inexplicably nervous at the thought of confronting Snape with Dumbledore's proposition. A trickle of unease slid into his stomach and pooled there, leaving his gut twitching on pins of anxiety.
It was easy in the warm, bright summer light to tell himself that his tired mind had greatly exaggerated the events of the day before, but once he was back down in the perpetual gloom of the dungeons it seemed all too real. A quiver of repulsion at the memory of Snape's broken desperation shivered across his shoulders.
He raised a hand and knocked on the cold metal of the Slytherin shield. To his surprise, the door swung open slightly.
It was dark inside. Does he ever even light a bloody candle?
Remus slowly pulled the shield open wide enough for him to squeeze through. His wand cast enough light for him to see that he was in Snape's sitting room - a scruffy, faded blue couch facing the dead fireplace was planted firmly on a threadbare carpet of undeterminable color. The two rickety end tables were piled high with books from the overflowing shelves lining the otherwise bare stone walls.
"Lux domus," Remus whispered, and the small room was lit by a warm, suffuse light. Stepping lightly, Remus moved through the sitting room and toward the dark entranceway of Snape's tiny kitchen.
The stringent smell of hard liquor stung his nose, and a worm of unease slithered through his chest. He jumped when something crunched underfoot. Glass? He again cast the light charm, this time on the kitchen.
Snape lay face down on the table, surrounded by the shattered remains of a bottle. Remus stood perfectly still for a moment as unease grew into disgust.
How could Snape just... just do this?
You're still surprised, after what happened in the staffroom the night before last?
He... he's not the kid I went to school with, is he...
He's not who I thought he was.
Mind reeling, Remus staggered back into the sitting room and sat heavily on the couch.
He's not who I thought he was.
The last few days finally coalesced in Remus' head, a heavy lump of densely tangled emotions and associations.
"Why the bloody hell is this going on?!" What started as a whisper rose to a shout and he sprang off the couch. He noticed detachedly that his hands were shaking, that his legs seemed about to spasm beneath him.
A huge, heavy pressure built up inside him as he stood there, trembling; his vision began to blur with the pain in his head and he sank slowly down to the worn old rug, eaten up by emotion.
"Sirius - you're dead. You were never meant to die - you never had a chance. You never had a chance!" Remus sobbed into his hands. "Harry loved you so much - loves you so much... he never had a chance, either... you meant so much to him, you know."
He sniffed, rubbing at his wet face with a sleeve. "And here I am, sobbing on the floor of Snape's quarters. What a wreck, eh?" He sat back, leaning against the base of the old couch, and took several deep breaths.
He took a moment to collect himself before pushing off of the couch and standing. The shaking in his hands and knees had abated but left his limbs weak and heavy. He rubbed at his face again before returning to the kitchen.
Glass crunched underfoot as he strode back to the tiny kitchen and put a hand on Snape's shoulder. He was unnerved by the sudden thought that Snape was dead, the form before him merely a few old bones transfigured and wrapped in a linen shroud.
Remus took an involuntary step back as the bones beneath his hands shifted. Snape groaned softly and mumbled something unintelligible before falling silent again. Remus tried to still the hammering of his heart and grasped Snape's shoulder more firmly.
"Snape, it's me, Remus. We have to talk about something." Remus shook Snape's shoulder.
"Mmm," Snape mumbled into the table. Remus exhaled in frustration.
"Snape, I'm going to levitate you, so you'd better not be sick in the next two minutes," Remus growled before flicking his wand at Snape's limp form. His head lolled alarmingly, eyes rolled back, and Remus had the eerie impression that Snape's neck was broken. Just put him in bed, he chided himself. He's not... hurt.
Remus moved quickly through the small sitting room and pushed open the remaining door. His wand previously engaged, he had to grope his way through the darkness until he banged his knee on what felt suspiciously like a bed frame. After feeling out its dimensions, Remus lowered Snape down, freeing his wand to cast the lux domus charm.
The room was, if anything, smaller than the other two. There was just enough room for the narrow, highset bed, a bed table, and a shelf of well thumbed books. Snape was sprawled untidily across the bluish green bed covers where Remus had put him.
The clock on the wall said three o'clock. Suddenly immensely tired, Remus stumbled back into the sitting room and sat back down on the old couch. His last thought before sleep claimed him was, 'I'll just wait for him to wake up...'
*********
He awoke to a heavy pounding in his head. A deep, powerful undercurrent of desire roared dully in the back of his mind and he felt the world tilt and fall out from beneath his feet. ::I took it again.::
He shoved himself up on weak, shaking arms, biting down on a moan as the movement crushed his skull. Gripping the bed frame with trembling hands, he managed to stand upright. He felt stretched, as if his head were trying to float away from his leaden feet. The dimly lit room swayed slightly around him.
He staggered to the little stone bathroom and found the faucet by touch. The cold stream of water against his hands helped him focus his nebulous thoughts and he splashed it across his face until his hands and cheeks were numb.
*********
Remus was pulled out of his doze by the sound of Hogwart's ancient pipes groaning to life. He pushed himself off of the couch and stood, stretching cramped muscles. He could see Snape in the bathroom, splashing water on his face.
"Snape!"
Snape jerked upright, face and hands dripping. "Wha' th' bloody 'ell are ye doin' in 'ere?!" Remus saw Snape wince at the sound of his voice. With pronounced concentration, he repeated more quietly, "What the bloody hell are you doing here, werewolf?!"
"Snape, we have to talk." Remus watched bemusedly as Snape's face paled.
*********
::He knows.:: Snape felt the blood slide dizzyingly from his head and he gripped the sink to keep from fainting. His stomach constricted painfully and his breath caught in his throat as he thought of the damage that Lupin could do with that knowledge. His vision pulsed with the speeding of his heart and his skull began to split again with the pressure.
"You... you know." His voice scraped through his throat and stumbled past his swollen tongue.
*********
Remus nodded slowly, his thoughts laced with the empty coldness of Snape's betrayal two years ago, and he suppressed a guilty thrill at the feeling of having the tables turned. ::I have the blackmail power, now,:: he thought. It felt strange to be the one in the position of control - now Snape was afraid of him.
He shook his head at himself, brutally crushing the thought with the realization of just how pathetic retribution would be - the Werewolf versus the Death Eater drug addict. He almost laughed out loud.
From deep in his mind, a bubble of thought floated to the surface of his consciousness, popping quietly into his mind. ::Sirius would have...:: No. Sirius is gone. He rubbed at his eyes, feeling a headache building up against the back of his skull.
He looked back up at Snape. Merlin, he looks bad, Remus mused absently as he struggled to smother the thoughts surging through his head.
Snape's normally spare face was gaunt, his sharp cheekbones jutting from the roughly stubbled planes of his face. The thinness accentuated his already large nose, which thrust out from beneath his shadowed brow.
Black eyes surveyed him dully from the depths of their sockets, and his colorless lips were slightly parted over snag teeth. He raised one trembling hand to push a lank, wet strand of black hair out of his eyes.
Suddenly he lurched to one side, bending over and hacking out copious amounts of a thick acidic slime. The sour stench of it pulled Remus away from his internal struggle.
"Severus! Severus, I won't tell anyone. I promise."
"Th-the more f-f-fool you," Snape hissed from where he kneeled. "G-go away, L-l-lupin," he tried to growl, but it came out a rasp.
Remus felt a flare of frustrated anger. "Not this time, Snape. We have to talk."
"What th' 'ell d'we 'ave to bloody talk about?!" Snape wiped a rope of saliva from his lips with his sleeve before heaving dryly. Remus waited for the fit to stop before continuing.
"You can't keep doing this, Severus - you're killing yourself. Dumbledore - the Order - we need you to stop. You can't - this has to stop."
The hot, burning shame squirmed through the desolate emptiness that was left of his hope. He took the pain and lashed out at the hated figure of the werewolf. His fist connected weakly with Lupin's jaw, and he felt the other man's hands grasp his wrists and hold them down at his sides.
"Snape, this is going to stop and it's going to stop now." Lupin growled low in his throat. "Dumbledore has an idea, and I have to agree with him. You will be killed if you go to V-Voldemort like this and you'll take the Order down with you. He'll pry every last Order secret from your drug- addled brain and the Order will be destroyed. Dumbledore wants to perform the Versamentus curse on us." He paused for breath. "I've agreed. And you are going to agree too, Snape, because it means all of our lives."
Snape jerked his wrists from the werewolf's grip. "And what about me? D'ye think I'm going t' let ye get me killed? Ye must be mad," he spat. "There's no way in all the hells that ye could pull tha' off wi' the Dark Lord." He stood shakily. "Ye wouldn' survive th' week."
"Oh no?" Remus countered, heat filling him. "Do you think you are the only one who has had to suffer? Three nights a month, for most of my life, I've ripped myself to shreds as a ravenous beast -"
"That's not th' same a' stayin' sane under th' bloody Cruciatus. Tha's not blocking one o' th' most bloody powerful wizards o' all time from yer soddin' mind!" Snape was shaking, whether from rage or withdrawal he didn't know. "Ye don' fuckin' know!"
His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "Can ye cast dark magic, Lupin? Could ye cast an Unforgivable on a stranger? D'ye know what et's like to have used black magic, d'ye know 'ow et changes a person? D'ye 'ave th' hate? Th' desire to hurt? No." He turned contemptuously away. "Ye couldn' pull it off, Lupin, even if I let ye try."
"You are killing yourself, Severus. Teach me to be you - I'm not going to let you do this anymore." Remus was vaguely surprised to feel tears pricking at his eyes. A deep, desperate need to keep Snape alive gripped his chest.
"Who the bloody hell put YOU in charge of me life?!" Snape screamed hoarsely. "Get the hell out o' here, Werewolf!" He almost collapsed with the force of his fury: the pressure built up within him sizzled across his shoulders and down his arms, sparking at his fingertips.
He wanted the death of the hated beast before him, the person who was trying to remove his only purpose. He barely registered his bookcase collapsing, or Lupin's apprehensive face.
"All right, Snape. We'll talk about this later, when your faculties are under your control." Remus sighed as he got up to leave. He had just a few minutes to get beyond the edge of Hogwart's apparating boundaries and head to the Plow and Stars. Raksha Mahu would not be happy if he was late after postponing their meeting; he'd have to talk to Dumbledore that evening.
"An' stay out ya mangy werewolf!" rang out behind him as he passed through the shield, frustration corroding his patience.
*********
"Fizzing wizbees," Remus growled at the stone gargoyle before stepping onto the moving staircase. His lengthy, heated discussion with the Gloucester Pack Leader combined with the stifling oppressiveness of the crowded pub and added to the aches caused by the coming full moon combined to give him a splitting headache. "Thank Merlin for Snape's paranoia," he muttered. It was extremely fortunate that Snape always left a large supply of the Wolfsbane Potion at Grimmauld Place, seeing as Remus wouldn't trust him at the moment with even a simple Pepper-Up Potion.
The stairs carried him swiftly and smoothly up through his musings and to the landing before the Headmaster's door. He was unsurprised when the door to the Headmaster's office swung silently open.
"Albus -" He looked in to find the round tower room warmly by the setting summer sun. An open window let in the breezes scented sweetly by the sighing forest. Dumbledore sat at his desk, silver framed spectacles glinting in the fading light.
"He has been Summoned, Remus."
*********
Snape sat numbly at the small, scarred table in his tiny kitchen. Melancholy spiked with deep anger and fear swirled around him but did not pass through the deadening alcohol haze that swamped his mind. He could sense them lurking, but heard only their echoes.
::... why me?... why didn't I ever get a chance?... I did, from Dumbledore... but now you've fucked up royally *again*... you are sickening...::
::...I used to want to be someone... to be respected... now I just want it all to end. I thought I'd gotten away from that sodding needle... should have known I was too weak, weak...::
"Sharrup."
A shaking hand raised the bottle to his lips and sloshed stinging gin into his mouth and down his chin. The fumes burned at the membranes of his nose and the bottle slipped from numb fingers to smash loudly on the stone floor.
:: you pathetic drunk - just like your father...::
A heavy, unbearable wave of grief crushed him and he lowered his head to the table, a high keening escaping his throat as tears finally came. He sobbed senselessly, a crude outpouring of anguish without name or single origin.
As the tide began to recede, he followed it into unconsciousness.
*********
Remus straightened his shabby robes, inexplicably nervous at the thought of confronting Snape with Dumbledore's proposition. A trickle of unease slid into his stomach and pooled there, leaving his gut twitching on pins of anxiety.
It was easy in the warm, bright summer light to tell himself that his tired mind had greatly exaggerated the events of the day before, but once he was back down in the perpetual gloom of the dungeons it seemed all too real. A quiver of repulsion at the memory of Snape's broken desperation shivered across his shoulders.
He raised a hand and knocked on the cold metal of the Slytherin shield. To his surprise, the door swung open slightly.
It was dark inside. Does he ever even light a bloody candle?
Remus slowly pulled the shield open wide enough for him to squeeze through. His wand cast enough light for him to see that he was in Snape's sitting room - a scruffy, faded blue couch facing the dead fireplace was planted firmly on a threadbare carpet of undeterminable color. The two rickety end tables were piled high with books from the overflowing shelves lining the otherwise bare stone walls.
"Lux domus," Remus whispered, and the small room was lit by a warm, suffuse light. Stepping lightly, Remus moved through the sitting room and toward the dark entranceway of Snape's tiny kitchen.
The stringent smell of hard liquor stung his nose, and a worm of unease slithered through his chest. He jumped when something crunched underfoot. Glass? He again cast the light charm, this time on the kitchen.
Snape lay face down on the table, surrounded by the shattered remains of a bottle. Remus stood perfectly still for a moment as unease grew into disgust.
How could Snape just... just do this?
You're still surprised, after what happened in the staffroom the night before last?
He... he's not the kid I went to school with, is he...
He's not who I thought he was.
Mind reeling, Remus staggered back into the sitting room and sat heavily on the couch.
He's not who I thought he was.
The last few days finally coalesced in Remus' head, a heavy lump of densely tangled emotions and associations.
"Why the bloody hell is this going on?!" What started as a whisper rose to a shout and he sprang off the couch. He noticed detachedly that his hands were shaking, that his legs seemed about to spasm beneath him.
A huge, heavy pressure built up inside him as he stood there, trembling; his vision began to blur with the pain in his head and he sank slowly down to the worn old rug, eaten up by emotion.
"Sirius - you're dead. You were never meant to die - you never had a chance. You never had a chance!" Remus sobbed into his hands. "Harry loved you so much - loves you so much... he never had a chance, either... you meant so much to him, you know."
He sniffed, rubbing at his wet face with a sleeve. "And here I am, sobbing on the floor of Snape's quarters. What a wreck, eh?" He sat back, leaning against the base of the old couch, and took several deep breaths.
He took a moment to collect himself before pushing off of the couch and standing. The shaking in his hands and knees had abated but left his limbs weak and heavy. He rubbed at his face again before returning to the kitchen.
Glass crunched underfoot as he strode back to the tiny kitchen and put a hand on Snape's shoulder. He was unnerved by the sudden thought that Snape was dead, the form before him merely a few old bones transfigured and wrapped in a linen shroud.
Remus took an involuntary step back as the bones beneath his hands shifted. Snape groaned softly and mumbled something unintelligible before falling silent again. Remus tried to still the hammering of his heart and grasped Snape's shoulder more firmly.
"Snape, it's me, Remus. We have to talk about something." Remus shook Snape's shoulder.
"Mmm," Snape mumbled into the table. Remus exhaled in frustration.
"Snape, I'm going to levitate you, so you'd better not be sick in the next two minutes," Remus growled before flicking his wand at Snape's limp form. His head lolled alarmingly, eyes rolled back, and Remus had the eerie impression that Snape's neck was broken. Just put him in bed, he chided himself. He's not... hurt.
Remus moved quickly through the small sitting room and pushed open the remaining door. His wand previously engaged, he had to grope his way through the darkness until he banged his knee on what felt suspiciously like a bed frame. After feeling out its dimensions, Remus lowered Snape down, freeing his wand to cast the lux domus charm.
The room was, if anything, smaller than the other two. There was just enough room for the narrow, highset bed, a bed table, and a shelf of well thumbed books. Snape was sprawled untidily across the bluish green bed covers where Remus had put him.
The clock on the wall said three o'clock. Suddenly immensely tired, Remus stumbled back into the sitting room and sat back down on the old couch. His last thought before sleep claimed him was, 'I'll just wait for him to wake up...'
*********
He awoke to a heavy pounding in his head. A deep, powerful undercurrent of desire roared dully in the back of his mind and he felt the world tilt and fall out from beneath his feet. ::I took it again.::
He shoved himself up on weak, shaking arms, biting down on a moan as the movement crushed his skull. Gripping the bed frame with trembling hands, he managed to stand upright. He felt stretched, as if his head were trying to float away from his leaden feet. The dimly lit room swayed slightly around him.
He staggered to the little stone bathroom and found the faucet by touch. The cold stream of water against his hands helped him focus his nebulous thoughts and he splashed it across his face until his hands and cheeks were numb.
*********
Remus was pulled out of his doze by the sound of Hogwart's ancient pipes groaning to life. He pushed himself off of the couch and stood, stretching cramped muscles. He could see Snape in the bathroom, splashing water on his face.
"Snape!"
Snape jerked upright, face and hands dripping. "Wha' th' bloody 'ell are ye doin' in 'ere?!" Remus saw Snape wince at the sound of his voice. With pronounced concentration, he repeated more quietly, "What the bloody hell are you doing here, werewolf?!"
"Snape, we have to talk." Remus watched bemusedly as Snape's face paled.
*********
::He knows.:: Snape felt the blood slide dizzyingly from his head and he gripped the sink to keep from fainting. His stomach constricted painfully and his breath caught in his throat as he thought of the damage that Lupin could do with that knowledge. His vision pulsed with the speeding of his heart and his skull began to split again with the pressure.
"You... you know." His voice scraped through his throat and stumbled past his swollen tongue.
*********
Remus nodded slowly, his thoughts laced with the empty coldness of Snape's betrayal two years ago, and he suppressed a guilty thrill at the feeling of having the tables turned. ::I have the blackmail power, now,:: he thought. It felt strange to be the one in the position of control - now Snape was afraid of him.
He shook his head at himself, brutally crushing the thought with the realization of just how pathetic retribution would be - the Werewolf versus the Death Eater drug addict. He almost laughed out loud.
From deep in his mind, a bubble of thought floated to the surface of his consciousness, popping quietly into his mind. ::Sirius would have...:: No. Sirius is gone. He rubbed at his eyes, feeling a headache building up against the back of his skull.
He looked back up at Snape. Merlin, he looks bad, Remus mused absently as he struggled to smother the thoughts surging through his head.
Snape's normally spare face was gaunt, his sharp cheekbones jutting from the roughly stubbled planes of his face. The thinness accentuated his already large nose, which thrust out from beneath his shadowed brow.
Black eyes surveyed him dully from the depths of their sockets, and his colorless lips were slightly parted over snag teeth. He raised one trembling hand to push a lank, wet strand of black hair out of his eyes.
Suddenly he lurched to one side, bending over and hacking out copious amounts of a thick acidic slime. The sour stench of it pulled Remus away from his internal struggle.
"Severus! Severus, I won't tell anyone. I promise."
"Th-the more f-f-fool you," Snape hissed from where he kneeled. "G-go away, L-l-lupin," he tried to growl, but it came out a rasp.
Remus felt a flare of frustrated anger. "Not this time, Snape. We have to talk."
"What th' 'ell d'we 'ave to bloody talk about?!" Snape wiped a rope of saliva from his lips with his sleeve before heaving dryly. Remus waited for the fit to stop before continuing.
"You can't keep doing this, Severus - you're killing yourself. Dumbledore - the Order - we need you to stop. You can't - this has to stop."
The hot, burning shame squirmed through the desolate emptiness that was left of his hope. He took the pain and lashed out at the hated figure of the werewolf. His fist connected weakly with Lupin's jaw, and he felt the other man's hands grasp his wrists and hold them down at his sides.
"Snape, this is going to stop and it's going to stop now." Lupin growled low in his throat. "Dumbledore has an idea, and I have to agree with him. You will be killed if you go to V-Voldemort like this and you'll take the Order down with you. He'll pry every last Order secret from your drug- addled brain and the Order will be destroyed. Dumbledore wants to perform the Versamentus curse on us." He paused for breath. "I've agreed. And you are going to agree too, Snape, because it means all of our lives."
Snape jerked his wrists from the werewolf's grip. "And what about me? D'ye think I'm going t' let ye get me killed? Ye must be mad," he spat. "There's no way in all the hells that ye could pull tha' off wi' the Dark Lord." He stood shakily. "Ye wouldn' survive th' week."
"Oh no?" Remus countered, heat filling him. "Do you think you are the only one who has had to suffer? Three nights a month, for most of my life, I've ripped myself to shreds as a ravenous beast -"
"That's not th' same a' stayin' sane under th' bloody Cruciatus. Tha's not blocking one o' th' most bloody powerful wizards o' all time from yer soddin' mind!" Snape was shaking, whether from rage or withdrawal he didn't know. "Ye don' fuckin' know!"
His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "Can ye cast dark magic, Lupin? Could ye cast an Unforgivable on a stranger? D'ye know what et's like to have used black magic, d'ye know 'ow et changes a person? D'ye 'ave th' hate? Th' desire to hurt? No." He turned contemptuously away. "Ye couldn' pull it off, Lupin, even if I let ye try."
"You are killing yourself, Severus. Teach me to be you - I'm not going to let you do this anymore." Remus was vaguely surprised to feel tears pricking at his eyes. A deep, desperate need to keep Snape alive gripped his chest.
"Who the bloody hell put YOU in charge of me life?!" Snape screamed hoarsely. "Get the hell out o' here, Werewolf!" He almost collapsed with the force of his fury: the pressure built up within him sizzled across his shoulders and down his arms, sparking at his fingertips.
He wanted the death of the hated beast before him, the person who was trying to remove his only purpose. He barely registered his bookcase collapsing, or Lupin's apprehensive face.
"All right, Snape. We'll talk about this later, when your faculties are under your control." Remus sighed as he got up to leave. He had just a few minutes to get beyond the edge of Hogwart's apparating boundaries and head to the Plow and Stars. Raksha Mahu would not be happy if he was late after postponing their meeting; he'd have to talk to Dumbledore that evening.
"An' stay out ya mangy werewolf!" rang out behind him as he passed through the shield, frustration corroding his patience.
*********
"Fizzing wizbees," Remus growled at the stone gargoyle before stepping onto the moving staircase. His lengthy, heated discussion with the Gloucester Pack Leader combined with the stifling oppressiveness of the crowded pub and added to the aches caused by the coming full moon combined to give him a splitting headache. "Thank Merlin for Snape's paranoia," he muttered. It was extremely fortunate that Snape always left a large supply of the Wolfsbane Potion at Grimmauld Place, seeing as Remus wouldn't trust him at the moment with even a simple Pepper-Up Potion.
The stairs carried him swiftly and smoothly up through his musings and to the landing before the Headmaster's door. He was unsurprised when the door to the Headmaster's office swung silently open.
"Albus -" He looked in to find the round tower room warmly by the setting summer sun. An open window let in the breezes scented sweetly by the sighing forest. Dumbledore sat at his desk, silver framed spectacles glinting in the fading light.
"He has been Summoned, Remus."
*********