Chapter Thirteen
Remus rushed out of Grimmauld Place as fast as he could without actually running, apparating as soon as he was beyond the anti-apparition charms. The last thing he wanted to have to deal with was an enraged Snape.
*********
If he had hoped for the old Black mansion to be mercifully empty, he was most grievously mistaken. He had forgotten that the Weasleys were going to spend the summer again at Grimmauld Place, and the kitchen sounded as if the entire Aurory - We'll see if we can make him talk...- had taken up residence. Fortunately, Lupin was nowhere to be seen. Maybe, if he just - a shout of anger, an upraised hand - stuck to the walls, no one would notice him...
"Snape! What're you doing, skulking about in the entranceway?" Damnit. Moody.
Snape drew himself up to his full height, ignoring his aching head. "I have every right to be here, Moody," he hissed.
"There's those who would disagree with you, there, Snape," the grizzled old Auror growled, clawed wooden foot scraping ominously on the rough old floor of the dark entrance hall. Studiously avoiding the prickling stare of the electric blue eye rotating crazily in its socket, Snape tried to ignore the desire to back away.
"Oi! Moody, It's all right! Snape's here on Dumbledore's orders! He's gonna stay here, for a while," Tonks called from the kitchen.
"Is that so, Snape? Now, why would Dumbledore kick you out of the castle, eh? Oh, don't bother telling me, I'll find out for myself," the Auror leered before turning around and limping eagerly back to the kitchen. "Behave yourself, Snape, or you may... find yourself at a disadvantage..." He sneered at he doorway to he kitchen. "I suppose this has something to do with why Dumbledore... borrowed... your wand?" With a wink, Moody slipped back into he kitchen.
Anger boiled explosively, a hot, violent churning in his chest. The damnable muscle in his jaw began jumping in time with the pounding in his head and he fought the urge to grind his teeth. ::Decrepit old goat... if it weren't for Dumbledore, I'd...::
"You."
Snape jerked around to face the scowling portrait behind him.
"The Black family does not associate with the Snapes," old Mrs. Black sneered, painted lips curling. "I demand that you leave immediately."
Snape was angry, ashamed, hungover and bloody well pissed off. A stupid painting was not going to drag Blood politics into an already deplorable morning. With a growl, he reached for his wand, and - fuck.
The painting laughed, a sound like dry, rusty hinges. "Some wizard. The Snape's always were a little off with their magic - all that foreign blood..."
Snape had never been more than very average with general wand magic, but he knew better than to respond defensively to an insult.
"Jealous someone still carries the name Snape, are you, Madam Black? I'm sure the demise of the last Heir of the Blacks was... painful... can't say I'm all that distraught, personally..."
He cut off suddenly when he realized he was arguing with a painting. ::Pitiful, truly pitiful.:: A heavy weight congealed out of the unsettled contents of his stomach and he turned away in disgust.
Her howls followed him as he struggled up the narrow staircase with his trunk. All the hells would freeze over before he asked somebody else to cast a levitation charm on it for him.
*********
Dropping the trunk in a corner of the sunlit room, Snape surveyed his new lodgings. There was a desk in one corner, underneath one of the high windows looking out onto the tangled garden, and a small bed in the other. Tiny, hole-in-the-wall kitchen, and an equally cramped bathroom. Two armchairs by the cold fireplace.
With a sigh, he dropped into one of the armchairs, and found himself -grow up, yeh snivellin' coward, or I'll do et fer ye- missing his blue couch. ::Don't be stupid,:: he growled at himself. ::It's just a bloody piece of furniture.::
The silence allowed his exhaustion to voice itself, pinpricks invading and weakening his muscles. A heavy band of need was pressing all thoughts of sleep from his mind, however, and his fingers itched with desire. It had been almost twenty-four hours since he had last had any heroin, and the throbbing burn in his bones was overpowering his body's need for sleep.
With a groan, he stood and began jerkily pacing the small room. ::Dumbledore's disappointed... but a little wouldn't hurt, would it...? I could be down to Bankside and back within an hour... I certainly won't be of use to the Order as a nervous wreck...:: He realized he was chewing on the skin of his fingers and forced his hand down to his side, where it promptly tangled in his robes.
::Damn it all... I'll get just enough to make it through the day...:: He strode to the door, but stopped with his hand on the doorknob. ::That's just a bloody excuse.:: He sat back down on the armchair, but it wasn't long before restless need drove his pounding head and screaming bones to pace again.
The seconds crawled by, the sun barely seeming to move in the sky. ::Too bright... too bright...:: His fingers were a bloody mess, but he knew that if he left the room he would never come back.
A deep sorrow gnawed at his heart. He had disappointed Dumbledore, he had physically attacked McGonagall... he didn't deserve their kindness. At least the Dark Lord punished failures properly - a few minutes of excruciating pain, and then it was over. No guilt, no little sweets, no weighty conscience.
::If I could only get a drink...:: But the damn werewolf didn't even have any liquor. His nose and eyes were slick with mucus and he scrubbed a sleeve across his face, almost banging into a wall.
The wall - the walls were covered in thick layers of crumbling paint, various shades of dismal, ugly colors. He stopped for a moment and scratched at the paint, ignoring the blood from his fingertips staining the white topcoat. White, dull blue, olive drab, steel gray, light pink...? His foot tapped under him, and he twitched away from the wall to resume pacing.
*********
Late that evening Remus stumbled through the front door of Grimmauld Place. He was exhausted. Along with dealing and term wrangling, Mahu had found the time to ask him why he didn't run with a pack on the full moon, and to nettle him about his lack of werewolf pride. He had responded that he felt no particular reason to be proud of his disease, and the meeting had gone downhill from there.
Between the hot, reeking, unbelievably loud mass of humanity crammed into the dirty pub, the sour beer in his stomach, and Mahu's accusations, Remus was worn down to a thread. He ached for a hot shower, some of Molly Weasley's thick stew, maybe a glass of wine, and a soft bed.
What he found when he opened the door to his little suite crushed all hopes of a calm, pleasant evening. His skull cinched a size tighter and he almost groaned aloud.
"Severus."
"Lupin." Snape was sitting hunched over the small desk, his head in his hands. Taking in the battered trunk shoved against the wall, Remus' heart sank.
"Are you going to be staying in here?"
"No, Lupin, I just enjoy sitting in your room." Snape's voice was tired and flat, the sarcasm no more than a reflexive response. He hadn't moved from where he sat, face buried in long, bony hands. Remus almost growled in frustration. He was about to toss his cloak on a chair when Snape sat up and shoved a folded letter towards Remus. "Dumbledore left this for you."
Remus broke the seal and quickly perused the letter.
'Dear Remus Lupin,
I hope you will accept my apologies for this intrusion into your privacy. Minerva and I came to the unanimous conclusion that Severus should reside at Order Headquarters, where he will be surrounded by those who care for him.'
::You mean where he can be watched,:: Remus groused uncharitably. He immediately felt a cold twang of guilt at the thought. ::I wonder why Minerva...?:: With Dumbledore, Snape's placement in Remus' rooms could be little more than his continued attempts at creating some kind of resolution between the two, but Remus trusted Minerva to have more practical reasons. He continued reading.
'It would be a great asset to our cause if you would be willing to watch over Severus for a little while, and to try and draw him out into conversation. I know this asks a lot, my boy, but Severus' continued health is absolutely critical.'
::As if I didn't have enough to worry about...:: He shook his head and sighed at himself. Where would he be if it wasn't for the trouble others took for his sake? ::Dumbledore took me in as a child, he gave me a job, he provides food and lodging for me... I owe it to him.:: Another voice hissed in his ear, ::And you owe it to Snape too... would he be where he is now if you had stopped James and Sirius?:: Remus sat down and fought the urge to massage his temples.
'I am also well aware of your troubles with Raksha Mahu. I do believe that if you remain firm in your offer and do not allow her jibes to knock you from your course, we shall be successful in enlisting the help of the Gloucester Pack.
'If you have any further concerns, please drop by for tea.
'Sincerely yours, Albus Dumbledore.'
Remus folded the letter and shoved it into his pocket before storming into the little kitchen. He stared blankly at the cracked tile counter. ::Why the hell did I come in here...?:: He stormed back out again, not precisely sure what he was angry about, but driven on by the hot, itchy pressure of it.
Snape still sat at the little desk under the window, leaning on his elbows and with his fingers wound into his stringy black hair. He stared sightlessly ahead, and as Remus came closer he could see Snape shaking slightly.
"Sev-"
"What?!"
"I was just going to ask if you wanted to come see if Molly has any stew in the pot," Remus snapped back.
"No."
"Fine." Remus turned on his heel and couldn't help slamming the door slightly. He strode down the dark corridor, hand on the banister, and down two flights of stairs to get to the ground floor and the kitchen. From the dark entrance hall where the stairs emptied him out, the glowing light around the kitchen door was like a balm on his nerves. Thoughts of steaming piles of home cooked food, a warm fire, and hopefully some good company warmed his stomach as he pushed open the kitchen door.
Tonks was there, and Moody. Shacklebolt was sitting at the long table soaking up some soup with a piece of bread and talking with a vaguely familiar, middle aged witch. Molly and her husband were talking with Bill, who seemed to be telling one of his curse breaking stories. Remus heard Fleur Delacour mentioned more than once.
"Remus! You're alive!" He was almost tackled as the young Auror's foot caught on a chair leg and she sprawled into him.
"Hey, Tonks," he said as he helped her stand again. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well, beyond the fact that there's a vampire waiting in your room..." She smiled toothily at him. Over her shoulder, he saw Molly Weasley give them an appraising look, and he felt his cheeks warm.
"I'm okay, Tonks.... Just let me grab a bowl of that stew." He edged around her, and Mrs. Weasley handed him a bowl.
"Here you go, Remus. You look like something the kneezle dragged in." Mrs. Weasley commented as Remus pulled out a chair and sat heavily. Tonks sat next to him and began chattering, but Remus' exhaustion faded out her words.
He gave a sigh as he began to dig into his vegetable stew. "That's about how I feel," he grumbled. Mrs. Weasley tutted, and Mr. Weasley gave him a sympathetic look. He was about to say something more when the kitchen door burst open to admit two fiery red heads and a mass of thick brown curls.
"Professor Lupin!" Hermione Granger. And Ron and Ginny Weasley, but they were too busy greeting their older brother, Bill, to notice Remus. Despite himself, Remus wished he could be alone for a while.
"Hello, Hermione. Please call me Remus; I'm not a professor anymore." He finished scraping the last of the stew from his bowl and stood. "Thank you for the stew, Molly, it was delicious, as usual." Before anyone could detain him, he left the kitchen and climbed back up the creaky stairs to his set of rooms.
*********
"Poor Remus," Mrs. Weasley sighed. "How could Albus make him live with Severus? Especially recently," she continued as she absently spooned stew into bowls for Hermione, Ginny and Ron. "Why don't you three go eat upstairs?" she continued, and giving them a 'we're about to have an adults only conversation' look. Hermione's ears pricked and she motioned for Ron and Ginny to follow her silently.
"Do you still have any of those extendable ears, Ron?" she whispered when they had reached the muffled darkness of the entrance hall. The two redheads gave her surprised looks.
"Yeah, Fred and George sent me some of their new and improved ones - claim they can even sneak past an impervious charm. Have I gone completely nutters, or is Hermione suggesting that we break the rules?"
Ginny's brown eyes sparkled, and she raced silently to the room she shared with Hermione.
*********
"Why Albus continues to trust that ugly git I'll never know," Moody growled. Molly dropped her ladle back into the pot and fixed the old Auror with an icy glare.
"Your constant bickering doesn't help matters, Alastor," she said coldly. "The poor boy is under a load of stress - "
"Rubbish! He's got nothing to worry about. Voldemort must be ecstatic with Snape's position in the Order, and Dumbledore is too blind to see the danger Snape presents!" he spat, battered face twisting with anger, scars showing white against the flushed skin.
"He hasn't shown any signs of disloyalty, Mad Eye," came Shacklebolt's deep, smooth voice. He turned to catch Moody's gaze, gold earring glinting against his dark skin.
"Even if he were loyal, he's a wreck! He passed out drunk at that Order dinner thing of Albus's a week ago, and he stank of booze when he came in this afternoon. Merlin only knows what an excuse to use the Dark Arts again is doing to him - he's not reliable!" Moody stood, emphasizing each point with a fist on the table.
The rest of the kitchen's occupants sat silently for a moment before beginning to talk quietly among themselves. Bill Weasley sat beside Shacklebolt and began muttering quietly with the solid wizard while Tonks listened.
"What do you think we should do about all this?" Bill asked, pushing at a strand of bright red hair that had escaped its ponytail. Tonks knew that he respected Shacklebolt's rational, well-considered thoughts. "I remember Snape a bit in school – he was a few years older, used to get picked on a lot. D'you think he's finally gone 'round the bend, Kingsley?"
The bald wizard sighed. "I don't know, Bill. He has the potential to cause a lot of harm, but also a lot of good. We can't throw him away just yet in this game." Tonks nodded.
Maybe that's why Dumbledore wants him here? So we can keep an...'eye' on him?" She wrinkled her face and rolled an enormous blue eye at them, wagging grizzled eyebrows suggestively. Bill suppressed a laugh and Schacklebolt had to fight a smile.
At the other end of the long table Mr. And Mrs. Weasley had their heads bowed together. "What are we to do when the next school term starts, Arthur?" The first real signs of doubt were evident in Molly's voice. "I'm not sure I want him teaching our children if he's falling apart," she told her husband. He raised a placating hand.
"Trust Dumbledore, Dear. He would never put the children in harm's way."
*********
The door opened at Remus' touch, and he stepped across the threshold to collapse full length on his bed. He lay savoring the relative quiet, but it wasn't long before a persistent tapping made itself known. The sound was frenetic, unsteady, the arrhythmic pulse of a rabbit beneath the nose of a fox. Despite his exhaustion, it needled its way into his subconscious and tugged him back to wakefulness even as he began to doze.
He turned to locate the source of the sound. Snape was still hunched over the desk, his chin buried in the crook of one arm and his other hand tangled in his greasy hair. Two black eyes continued to stare sightlessly, red rimmed and swollen. It didn't take long for Remus to locate the awful tapping - Snape's still booted heel seemed to be vibrating of its own accord.
"Snape!" He didn't seem to hear. "Snape, quit that infernal tapping!" No response. Just what he needed to top off his day - Snape as a roommate Remus hauled himself off the bed and stomped over to the rickety old desk. "Snape, I said stop the bloody tapping!" He grabbed at Snape's shoulder, but the other man started so badly he fell out of the chair. Remus jumped back in surprise. "Severus?"
Snape's face had a jaundiced cast to it, the skin drawn tightly to his sharp skull. The two unfocussed black eyes smoldered with fever and the corners of his red, swollen lids leaked mucus. Snape bared chattering teeth at Remus and pushed back a strand of hair with a shaking hand. The fingers were crusted with dark brown and leaked bright crimson drops - blood?! His nose twitched and told him what his exhausted brain had failed to notice.
*********
His movements had finally become too uncoordinated to control, and he collapsed into the chair at the desk. Waves of cold wracked his limbs and he felt his skin prickle and writhe as if bathed with ice. He gnawed at the skin on his fingers, an old habit, and took comfort in the raw pain.
::I could get it from Olsley... he'd probably have needles too, and he's got good quality stuff... but he's expensive... Doiger? He owes me... but... no money, no money... Muggles. Cheaper, no wizards...::
The door banged open.
*******
With a grunt, he lowered himself into the chair and took a swig of the mulled cider in his hipflask. Pausing for a moment, the old Auror savored the warmth of the crackling fire, rubbing scarred hands together as he extended his remaining foot towards the blaze. When all the cold aches had melted from his bones he took a pinch of floo powder and tossed it into the flames.
"Albus Dumbledore!"
A moment later the Headmaster's silvery head appeared in the fireplace. "Yes, Alastor, what can I do for you this fine evening?" Moody wasn't about to be fooled by the old wizard's innocent manner.
"What's Snape doing in the Order Headquarters?" he queried. He'd warned the old man again and again about the shifty Death Eater traitor, and now he had the slimy git staying at the nucleus of the Order of the Phoenix. He scowled as Dumbledore answered.
"Alastor, what can I do to convince you of Snape's value to the Order?"
"Even if he is valuable at the moment, he's not loyal, Albus," Moody rasped, patiently presenting the facts once again. He had great respect for Dumbledore, but the ancient wizard was simply blind when it came to the slimy Death Eater. "As soon as a better deal comes along... well, once a traitor, always a traitor, and he'll have no qualms spilling Order secrets." Moody glared into the fire as the ancient wizard's blue eyes narrowed slightly before easing back to their usual benign gaze.
"I understand your concerns, Alastor, and I appreciate your dedication to the cause. However, I must ask you to at least cease open hostilities towards Snape. If you have no further concerns, I'm afraid I'm rather busy at the moment." At Moody's reluctant nod, Dumbledore smiled. "Good evening, Alastor." The fire returned to its usual bright coppers and golds as the floo connection cut off.
Moody respected Dumbledore too much to go directly against him, but knew beyond a doubt that Snape would be trouble. ::Well, Dumbledore hadn't said anything forbidding detailed surveillance of his little pet murderer...::
*********
"Severus?" ::It must be the... the drug. Didn't Poppy say something about him needing to keep taking it?:: The skin at the base of his skull prickled and he shivered involuntarily. ::How anyone could take that stuff and place themself in this situation...?:: "D'you need the.. the..." He couldn't say it, couldn't name the looming shame. ::Snape is a drug addict. Snape is a drug addict. Snape is - not who I thought he was.::
Snape pushed himself shakily to his feet. "I - I - I'm g-g-going out," he rasped. He made it almost to the door before tripping on a fold in the threadbare rug and slamming face down on the floor. When he didn't move, Remus hurried over and hauled him back up. The blank, dead look in Snape's eyes slipped a knife of cold steel down his spine.
"Look, Severus..." He paused for a moment as a disagreement raged inside him. He was exhausted, but if Snape left and didn't come back, it would destroy Dumbledore, and he owed the ancient wizard too much to allow that to happen. And if he made Snape stay here... what if he died? "If you want to go out, fine, but I'm coming with you." Snape turned and gazed searchingly into Remus' eyes, absently fingering the scrape on his chin.
"P-put on Muggle c-clothes," he hissed before going to his trunk. Throwing the lid back, he tugged out a pair of black jeans, a long sleeved shirt, and a long black Muggle trench coat while Remus watched in surprise. Snape was panting heavily, sweat dripping from his hairline, and his movements were disconnected, but he was filled with purpose.
Remus wondered idly if he had come to a decision about something. The slamming of the washroom door startled him out of his reverie and he quickly transfigured his robes into trousers and a shirt.
The washroom door opened. Snape looked undeniably skeletal without the concealing folds of wizarding robes. His limbs seemed to be almost too long for his body, too drawn to be constructs of flesh and blood. With his hair hanging lankly in his face and a thin trickle of blood running down his chin, he looked almost more like a ghoul than a wizard. He reached out a painfully thin arm and shakily grabbed the trench coat with tattered fingers.
"Why are we going as Muggles?" Remus asked as he followed Snape to the door.
Snape twitched. "Cheaper."
*********
Snape wrapped the trench coat tightly around himself as they slipped out of Grimmauld Place and into the balmy summer night.
"Aren't you hot?" Remus whispered. Snape responded with a shaky sneer before glancing up and down the deserted Muggle street.
"We need to g-get to Rudemerd Street," he whispered hoarsely. Remus watched in horrified fascination as Snape licked his lips, eyes glazing over with need. "Yes... yes..."
"I'll apparate us to the Leaky Cauldron, okay, Severus... Snape? Snape!" The lanky wizard was staring absently, tremors shaking his black shrouded body.
"Bankside..."
"What?"
"G-go to Banks-side." Snape shuddered. "South bank of of of t-the Thames, foot of the bridge..."
"But Muggles-"
"Forget th' bloody Muggles!" Snape gripped Remus' shirtfront, eyes rolling back in their sockets to reveal sickly pale tissue as he groaned in pain. "Just - please-"
Remus felt a thrill of fear at the thought of Snape dying. "Okay, okay..." He could feel his heart pumping, his stomach nauseous at Snape's desperation. ::Did I help cause this...?:: He latched onto Snape's bony wrist and Apparated to the edge of Bankside.
*********
Snape stumbled into Remus' side as they landed on the rough, cracked asphalt of an abandoned lot. It was an indication of his state of mind that he didn't snarl at Remus for touching him. Remus quickly gained his footing and looked around.
He had been here once before, but the night cloaked the dismally gray alleys in a brown gloom that seemed to lurk ominously against the grimy brick walls. The sodium yellow Muggle streetlamps glowing through the damp, heavy air were no match for the desolate darkness, Remus noted. He wrinkled his nose at the smoke tainted scent of garbage and unwashed bodies and took a step forward, jumping back into Snape as his foot came in contact with a rusted hunk of metal.
"All right, Snape, we're here," Remus muttered, eyeing the looming tenements around them. Snape glared at his statement of the obvious, then hacked and spat before wiping his streaming eyes on his sleeve.
"Let's go," he muttered. Remus' stomach squirmed at the sight of the trail of mucus left across the black cloth, but he followed as Snape began walking unsteadily down a narrow, twisted alley.
It wasn't long before the stifling air consumed Snape's figure in shadow, and Remus hurried to catch up, all former exhaustion wiped out by his nerves. The wolf stalked high on its toes, ears and nose twitching, hackles raised. Remus had learned long ago to be nervous when the wolf was cautious. He felt trapped, sensing more than seeing the brick walls leaning, leaning...
The alleyway at first seemed empty, but as he adjusted to the gloom and the cramped, garbage-strewn street before him, he began to see furtive movement. A person snoring under a newspaper blanket, a scrawny cat shifting almost silently along a wall, and the skitter of rats reached his ears as he strained to pierce through the murky darkness and the disorienting sodium glow.
Snape led Remus through the labyrinth of grimy back alleys and abandoned factories as if dragged along by the Imperious Curse. They passed islands of electric light pouring out the smells of alcohol and tobacco smoke, the raucous noise of late night drinkers spilling out with the light into the mist-dimmed streets. Remus started a few times as a Muggle automobile roared by, but Snape kept to his course.
The narrow streets muffled and reverberated sound, mixing the wail of a baby in the tenements with the broken grunts of drunken argument or the yowl of a cat clattering through dustbins. Remus was beginning to feel more at ease when out of the stinging brown fog a raspy voice growled behind him.
Remus rushed out of Grimmauld Place as fast as he could without actually running, apparating as soon as he was beyond the anti-apparition charms. The last thing he wanted to have to deal with was an enraged Snape.
*********
If he had hoped for the old Black mansion to be mercifully empty, he was most grievously mistaken. He had forgotten that the Weasleys were going to spend the summer again at Grimmauld Place, and the kitchen sounded as if the entire Aurory - We'll see if we can make him talk...- had taken up residence. Fortunately, Lupin was nowhere to be seen. Maybe, if he just - a shout of anger, an upraised hand - stuck to the walls, no one would notice him...
"Snape! What're you doing, skulking about in the entranceway?" Damnit. Moody.
Snape drew himself up to his full height, ignoring his aching head. "I have every right to be here, Moody," he hissed.
"There's those who would disagree with you, there, Snape," the grizzled old Auror growled, clawed wooden foot scraping ominously on the rough old floor of the dark entrance hall. Studiously avoiding the prickling stare of the electric blue eye rotating crazily in its socket, Snape tried to ignore the desire to back away.
"Oi! Moody, It's all right! Snape's here on Dumbledore's orders! He's gonna stay here, for a while," Tonks called from the kitchen.
"Is that so, Snape? Now, why would Dumbledore kick you out of the castle, eh? Oh, don't bother telling me, I'll find out for myself," the Auror leered before turning around and limping eagerly back to the kitchen. "Behave yourself, Snape, or you may... find yourself at a disadvantage..." He sneered at he doorway to he kitchen. "I suppose this has something to do with why Dumbledore... borrowed... your wand?" With a wink, Moody slipped back into he kitchen.
Anger boiled explosively, a hot, violent churning in his chest. The damnable muscle in his jaw began jumping in time with the pounding in his head and he fought the urge to grind his teeth. ::Decrepit old goat... if it weren't for Dumbledore, I'd...::
"You."
Snape jerked around to face the scowling portrait behind him.
"The Black family does not associate with the Snapes," old Mrs. Black sneered, painted lips curling. "I demand that you leave immediately."
Snape was angry, ashamed, hungover and bloody well pissed off. A stupid painting was not going to drag Blood politics into an already deplorable morning. With a growl, he reached for his wand, and - fuck.
The painting laughed, a sound like dry, rusty hinges. "Some wizard. The Snape's always were a little off with their magic - all that foreign blood..."
Snape had never been more than very average with general wand magic, but he knew better than to respond defensively to an insult.
"Jealous someone still carries the name Snape, are you, Madam Black? I'm sure the demise of the last Heir of the Blacks was... painful... can't say I'm all that distraught, personally..."
He cut off suddenly when he realized he was arguing with a painting. ::Pitiful, truly pitiful.:: A heavy weight congealed out of the unsettled contents of his stomach and he turned away in disgust.
Her howls followed him as he struggled up the narrow staircase with his trunk. All the hells would freeze over before he asked somebody else to cast a levitation charm on it for him.
*********
Dropping the trunk in a corner of the sunlit room, Snape surveyed his new lodgings. There was a desk in one corner, underneath one of the high windows looking out onto the tangled garden, and a small bed in the other. Tiny, hole-in-the-wall kitchen, and an equally cramped bathroom. Two armchairs by the cold fireplace.
With a sigh, he dropped into one of the armchairs, and found himself -grow up, yeh snivellin' coward, or I'll do et fer ye- missing his blue couch. ::Don't be stupid,:: he growled at himself. ::It's just a bloody piece of furniture.::
The silence allowed his exhaustion to voice itself, pinpricks invading and weakening his muscles. A heavy band of need was pressing all thoughts of sleep from his mind, however, and his fingers itched with desire. It had been almost twenty-four hours since he had last had any heroin, and the throbbing burn in his bones was overpowering his body's need for sleep.
With a groan, he stood and began jerkily pacing the small room. ::Dumbledore's disappointed... but a little wouldn't hurt, would it...? I could be down to Bankside and back within an hour... I certainly won't be of use to the Order as a nervous wreck...:: He realized he was chewing on the skin of his fingers and forced his hand down to his side, where it promptly tangled in his robes.
::Damn it all... I'll get just enough to make it through the day...:: He strode to the door, but stopped with his hand on the doorknob. ::That's just a bloody excuse.:: He sat back down on the armchair, but it wasn't long before restless need drove his pounding head and screaming bones to pace again.
The seconds crawled by, the sun barely seeming to move in the sky. ::Too bright... too bright...:: His fingers were a bloody mess, but he knew that if he left the room he would never come back.
A deep sorrow gnawed at his heart. He had disappointed Dumbledore, he had physically attacked McGonagall... he didn't deserve their kindness. At least the Dark Lord punished failures properly - a few minutes of excruciating pain, and then it was over. No guilt, no little sweets, no weighty conscience.
::If I could only get a drink...:: But the damn werewolf didn't even have any liquor. His nose and eyes were slick with mucus and he scrubbed a sleeve across his face, almost banging into a wall.
The wall - the walls were covered in thick layers of crumbling paint, various shades of dismal, ugly colors. He stopped for a moment and scratched at the paint, ignoring the blood from his fingertips staining the white topcoat. White, dull blue, olive drab, steel gray, light pink...? His foot tapped under him, and he twitched away from the wall to resume pacing.
*********
Late that evening Remus stumbled through the front door of Grimmauld Place. He was exhausted. Along with dealing and term wrangling, Mahu had found the time to ask him why he didn't run with a pack on the full moon, and to nettle him about his lack of werewolf pride. He had responded that he felt no particular reason to be proud of his disease, and the meeting had gone downhill from there.
Between the hot, reeking, unbelievably loud mass of humanity crammed into the dirty pub, the sour beer in his stomach, and Mahu's accusations, Remus was worn down to a thread. He ached for a hot shower, some of Molly Weasley's thick stew, maybe a glass of wine, and a soft bed.
What he found when he opened the door to his little suite crushed all hopes of a calm, pleasant evening. His skull cinched a size tighter and he almost groaned aloud.
"Severus."
"Lupin." Snape was sitting hunched over the small desk, his head in his hands. Taking in the battered trunk shoved against the wall, Remus' heart sank.
"Are you going to be staying in here?"
"No, Lupin, I just enjoy sitting in your room." Snape's voice was tired and flat, the sarcasm no more than a reflexive response. He hadn't moved from where he sat, face buried in long, bony hands. Remus almost growled in frustration. He was about to toss his cloak on a chair when Snape sat up and shoved a folded letter towards Remus. "Dumbledore left this for you."
Remus broke the seal and quickly perused the letter.
'Dear Remus Lupin,
I hope you will accept my apologies for this intrusion into your privacy. Minerva and I came to the unanimous conclusion that Severus should reside at Order Headquarters, where he will be surrounded by those who care for him.'
::You mean where he can be watched,:: Remus groused uncharitably. He immediately felt a cold twang of guilt at the thought. ::I wonder why Minerva...?:: With Dumbledore, Snape's placement in Remus' rooms could be little more than his continued attempts at creating some kind of resolution between the two, but Remus trusted Minerva to have more practical reasons. He continued reading.
'It would be a great asset to our cause if you would be willing to watch over Severus for a little while, and to try and draw him out into conversation. I know this asks a lot, my boy, but Severus' continued health is absolutely critical.'
::As if I didn't have enough to worry about...:: He shook his head and sighed at himself. Where would he be if it wasn't for the trouble others took for his sake? ::Dumbledore took me in as a child, he gave me a job, he provides food and lodging for me... I owe it to him.:: Another voice hissed in his ear, ::And you owe it to Snape too... would he be where he is now if you had stopped James and Sirius?:: Remus sat down and fought the urge to massage his temples.
'I am also well aware of your troubles with Raksha Mahu. I do believe that if you remain firm in your offer and do not allow her jibes to knock you from your course, we shall be successful in enlisting the help of the Gloucester Pack.
'If you have any further concerns, please drop by for tea.
'Sincerely yours, Albus Dumbledore.'
Remus folded the letter and shoved it into his pocket before storming into the little kitchen. He stared blankly at the cracked tile counter. ::Why the hell did I come in here...?:: He stormed back out again, not precisely sure what he was angry about, but driven on by the hot, itchy pressure of it.
Snape still sat at the little desk under the window, leaning on his elbows and with his fingers wound into his stringy black hair. He stared sightlessly ahead, and as Remus came closer he could see Snape shaking slightly.
"Sev-"
"What?!"
"I was just going to ask if you wanted to come see if Molly has any stew in the pot," Remus snapped back.
"No."
"Fine." Remus turned on his heel and couldn't help slamming the door slightly. He strode down the dark corridor, hand on the banister, and down two flights of stairs to get to the ground floor and the kitchen. From the dark entrance hall where the stairs emptied him out, the glowing light around the kitchen door was like a balm on his nerves. Thoughts of steaming piles of home cooked food, a warm fire, and hopefully some good company warmed his stomach as he pushed open the kitchen door.
Tonks was there, and Moody. Shacklebolt was sitting at the long table soaking up some soup with a piece of bread and talking with a vaguely familiar, middle aged witch. Molly and her husband were talking with Bill, who seemed to be telling one of his curse breaking stories. Remus heard Fleur Delacour mentioned more than once.
"Remus! You're alive!" He was almost tackled as the young Auror's foot caught on a chair leg and she sprawled into him.
"Hey, Tonks," he said as he helped her stand again. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well, beyond the fact that there's a vampire waiting in your room..." She smiled toothily at him. Over her shoulder, he saw Molly Weasley give them an appraising look, and he felt his cheeks warm.
"I'm okay, Tonks.... Just let me grab a bowl of that stew." He edged around her, and Mrs. Weasley handed him a bowl.
"Here you go, Remus. You look like something the kneezle dragged in." Mrs. Weasley commented as Remus pulled out a chair and sat heavily. Tonks sat next to him and began chattering, but Remus' exhaustion faded out her words.
He gave a sigh as he began to dig into his vegetable stew. "That's about how I feel," he grumbled. Mrs. Weasley tutted, and Mr. Weasley gave him a sympathetic look. He was about to say something more when the kitchen door burst open to admit two fiery red heads and a mass of thick brown curls.
"Professor Lupin!" Hermione Granger. And Ron and Ginny Weasley, but they were too busy greeting their older brother, Bill, to notice Remus. Despite himself, Remus wished he could be alone for a while.
"Hello, Hermione. Please call me Remus; I'm not a professor anymore." He finished scraping the last of the stew from his bowl and stood. "Thank you for the stew, Molly, it was delicious, as usual." Before anyone could detain him, he left the kitchen and climbed back up the creaky stairs to his set of rooms.
*********
"Poor Remus," Mrs. Weasley sighed. "How could Albus make him live with Severus? Especially recently," she continued as she absently spooned stew into bowls for Hermione, Ginny and Ron. "Why don't you three go eat upstairs?" she continued, and giving them a 'we're about to have an adults only conversation' look. Hermione's ears pricked and she motioned for Ron and Ginny to follow her silently.
"Do you still have any of those extendable ears, Ron?" she whispered when they had reached the muffled darkness of the entrance hall. The two redheads gave her surprised looks.
"Yeah, Fred and George sent me some of their new and improved ones - claim they can even sneak past an impervious charm. Have I gone completely nutters, or is Hermione suggesting that we break the rules?"
Ginny's brown eyes sparkled, and she raced silently to the room she shared with Hermione.
*********
"Why Albus continues to trust that ugly git I'll never know," Moody growled. Molly dropped her ladle back into the pot and fixed the old Auror with an icy glare.
"Your constant bickering doesn't help matters, Alastor," she said coldly. "The poor boy is under a load of stress - "
"Rubbish! He's got nothing to worry about. Voldemort must be ecstatic with Snape's position in the Order, and Dumbledore is too blind to see the danger Snape presents!" he spat, battered face twisting with anger, scars showing white against the flushed skin.
"He hasn't shown any signs of disloyalty, Mad Eye," came Shacklebolt's deep, smooth voice. He turned to catch Moody's gaze, gold earring glinting against his dark skin.
"Even if he were loyal, he's a wreck! He passed out drunk at that Order dinner thing of Albus's a week ago, and he stank of booze when he came in this afternoon. Merlin only knows what an excuse to use the Dark Arts again is doing to him - he's not reliable!" Moody stood, emphasizing each point with a fist on the table.
The rest of the kitchen's occupants sat silently for a moment before beginning to talk quietly among themselves. Bill Weasley sat beside Shacklebolt and began muttering quietly with the solid wizard while Tonks listened.
"What do you think we should do about all this?" Bill asked, pushing at a strand of bright red hair that had escaped its ponytail. Tonks knew that he respected Shacklebolt's rational, well-considered thoughts. "I remember Snape a bit in school – he was a few years older, used to get picked on a lot. D'you think he's finally gone 'round the bend, Kingsley?"
The bald wizard sighed. "I don't know, Bill. He has the potential to cause a lot of harm, but also a lot of good. We can't throw him away just yet in this game." Tonks nodded.
Maybe that's why Dumbledore wants him here? So we can keep an...'eye' on him?" She wrinkled her face and rolled an enormous blue eye at them, wagging grizzled eyebrows suggestively. Bill suppressed a laugh and Schacklebolt had to fight a smile.
At the other end of the long table Mr. And Mrs. Weasley had their heads bowed together. "What are we to do when the next school term starts, Arthur?" The first real signs of doubt were evident in Molly's voice. "I'm not sure I want him teaching our children if he's falling apart," she told her husband. He raised a placating hand.
"Trust Dumbledore, Dear. He would never put the children in harm's way."
*********
The door opened at Remus' touch, and he stepped across the threshold to collapse full length on his bed. He lay savoring the relative quiet, but it wasn't long before a persistent tapping made itself known. The sound was frenetic, unsteady, the arrhythmic pulse of a rabbit beneath the nose of a fox. Despite his exhaustion, it needled its way into his subconscious and tugged him back to wakefulness even as he began to doze.
He turned to locate the source of the sound. Snape was still hunched over the desk, his chin buried in the crook of one arm and his other hand tangled in his greasy hair. Two black eyes continued to stare sightlessly, red rimmed and swollen. It didn't take long for Remus to locate the awful tapping - Snape's still booted heel seemed to be vibrating of its own accord.
"Snape!" He didn't seem to hear. "Snape, quit that infernal tapping!" No response. Just what he needed to top off his day - Snape as a roommate Remus hauled himself off the bed and stomped over to the rickety old desk. "Snape, I said stop the bloody tapping!" He grabbed at Snape's shoulder, but the other man started so badly he fell out of the chair. Remus jumped back in surprise. "Severus?"
Snape's face had a jaundiced cast to it, the skin drawn tightly to his sharp skull. The two unfocussed black eyes smoldered with fever and the corners of his red, swollen lids leaked mucus. Snape bared chattering teeth at Remus and pushed back a strand of hair with a shaking hand. The fingers were crusted with dark brown and leaked bright crimson drops - blood?! His nose twitched and told him what his exhausted brain had failed to notice.
*********
His movements had finally become too uncoordinated to control, and he collapsed into the chair at the desk. Waves of cold wracked his limbs and he felt his skin prickle and writhe as if bathed with ice. He gnawed at the skin on his fingers, an old habit, and took comfort in the raw pain.
::I could get it from Olsley... he'd probably have needles too, and he's got good quality stuff... but he's expensive... Doiger? He owes me... but... no money, no money... Muggles. Cheaper, no wizards...::
The door banged open.
*******
With a grunt, he lowered himself into the chair and took a swig of the mulled cider in his hipflask. Pausing for a moment, the old Auror savored the warmth of the crackling fire, rubbing scarred hands together as he extended his remaining foot towards the blaze. When all the cold aches had melted from his bones he took a pinch of floo powder and tossed it into the flames.
"Albus Dumbledore!"
A moment later the Headmaster's silvery head appeared in the fireplace. "Yes, Alastor, what can I do for you this fine evening?" Moody wasn't about to be fooled by the old wizard's innocent manner.
"What's Snape doing in the Order Headquarters?" he queried. He'd warned the old man again and again about the shifty Death Eater traitor, and now he had the slimy git staying at the nucleus of the Order of the Phoenix. He scowled as Dumbledore answered.
"Alastor, what can I do to convince you of Snape's value to the Order?"
"Even if he is valuable at the moment, he's not loyal, Albus," Moody rasped, patiently presenting the facts once again. He had great respect for Dumbledore, but the ancient wizard was simply blind when it came to the slimy Death Eater. "As soon as a better deal comes along... well, once a traitor, always a traitor, and he'll have no qualms spilling Order secrets." Moody glared into the fire as the ancient wizard's blue eyes narrowed slightly before easing back to their usual benign gaze.
"I understand your concerns, Alastor, and I appreciate your dedication to the cause. However, I must ask you to at least cease open hostilities towards Snape. If you have no further concerns, I'm afraid I'm rather busy at the moment." At Moody's reluctant nod, Dumbledore smiled. "Good evening, Alastor." The fire returned to its usual bright coppers and golds as the floo connection cut off.
Moody respected Dumbledore too much to go directly against him, but knew beyond a doubt that Snape would be trouble. ::Well, Dumbledore hadn't said anything forbidding detailed surveillance of his little pet murderer...::
*********
"Severus?" ::It must be the... the drug. Didn't Poppy say something about him needing to keep taking it?:: The skin at the base of his skull prickled and he shivered involuntarily. ::How anyone could take that stuff and place themself in this situation...?:: "D'you need the.. the..." He couldn't say it, couldn't name the looming shame. ::Snape is a drug addict. Snape is a drug addict. Snape is - not who I thought he was.::
Snape pushed himself shakily to his feet. "I - I - I'm g-g-going out," he rasped. He made it almost to the door before tripping on a fold in the threadbare rug and slamming face down on the floor. When he didn't move, Remus hurried over and hauled him back up. The blank, dead look in Snape's eyes slipped a knife of cold steel down his spine.
"Look, Severus..." He paused for a moment as a disagreement raged inside him. He was exhausted, but if Snape left and didn't come back, it would destroy Dumbledore, and he owed the ancient wizard too much to allow that to happen. And if he made Snape stay here... what if he died? "If you want to go out, fine, but I'm coming with you." Snape turned and gazed searchingly into Remus' eyes, absently fingering the scrape on his chin.
"P-put on Muggle c-clothes," he hissed before going to his trunk. Throwing the lid back, he tugged out a pair of black jeans, a long sleeved shirt, and a long black Muggle trench coat while Remus watched in surprise. Snape was panting heavily, sweat dripping from his hairline, and his movements were disconnected, but he was filled with purpose.
Remus wondered idly if he had come to a decision about something. The slamming of the washroom door startled him out of his reverie and he quickly transfigured his robes into trousers and a shirt.
The washroom door opened. Snape looked undeniably skeletal without the concealing folds of wizarding robes. His limbs seemed to be almost too long for his body, too drawn to be constructs of flesh and blood. With his hair hanging lankly in his face and a thin trickle of blood running down his chin, he looked almost more like a ghoul than a wizard. He reached out a painfully thin arm and shakily grabbed the trench coat with tattered fingers.
"Why are we going as Muggles?" Remus asked as he followed Snape to the door.
Snape twitched. "Cheaper."
*********
Snape wrapped the trench coat tightly around himself as they slipped out of Grimmauld Place and into the balmy summer night.
"Aren't you hot?" Remus whispered. Snape responded with a shaky sneer before glancing up and down the deserted Muggle street.
"We need to g-get to Rudemerd Street," he whispered hoarsely. Remus watched in horrified fascination as Snape licked his lips, eyes glazing over with need. "Yes... yes..."
"I'll apparate us to the Leaky Cauldron, okay, Severus... Snape? Snape!" The lanky wizard was staring absently, tremors shaking his black shrouded body.
"Bankside..."
"What?"
"G-go to Banks-side." Snape shuddered. "South bank of of of t-the Thames, foot of the bridge..."
"But Muggles-"
"Forget th' bloody Muggles!" Snape gripped Remus' shirtfront, eyes rolling back in their sockets to reveal sickly pale tissue as he groaned in pain. "Just - please-"
Remus felt a thrill of fear at the thought of Snape dying. "Okay, okay..." He could feel his heart pumping, his stomach nauseous at Snape's desperation. ::Did I help cause this...?:: He latched onto Snape's bony wrist and Apparated to the edge of Bankside.
*********
Snape stumbled into Remus' side as they landed on the rough, cracked asphalt of an abandoned lot. It was an indication of his state of mind that he didn't snarl at Remus for touching him. Remus quickly gained his footing and looked around.
He had been here once before, but the night cloaked the dismally gray alleys in a brown gloom that seemed to lurk ominously against the grimy brick walls. The sodium yellow Muggle streetlamps glowing through the damp, heavy air were no match for the desolate darkness, Remus noted. He wrinkled his nose at the smoke tainted scent of garbage and unwashed bodies and took a step forward, jumping back into Snape as his foot came in contact with a rusted hunk of metal.
"All right, Snape, we're here," Remus muttered, eyeing the looming tenements around them. Snape glared at his statement of the obvious, then hacked and spat before wiping his streaming eyes on his sleeve.
"Let's go," he muttered. Remus' stomach squirmed at the sight of the trail of mucus left across the black cloth, but he followed as Snape began walking unsteadily down a narrow, twisted alley.
It wasn't long before the stifling air consumed Snape's figure in shadow, and Remus hurried to catch up, all former exhaustion wiped out by his nerves. The wolf stalked high on its toes, ears and nose twitching, hackles raised. Remus had learned long ago to be nervous when the wolf was cautious. He felt trapped, sensing more than seeing the brick walls leaning, leaning...
The alleyway at first seemed empty, but as he adjusted to the gloom and the cramped, garbage-strewn street before him, he began to see furtive movement. A person snoring under a newspaper blanket, a scrawny cat shifting almost silently along a wall, and the skitter of rats reached his ears as he strained to pierce through the murky darkness and the disorienting sodium glow.
Snape led Remus through the labyrinth of grimy back alleys and abandoned factories as if dragged along by the Imperious Curse. They passed islands of electric light pouring out the smells of alcohol and tobacco smoke, the raucous noise of late night drinkers spilling out with the light into the mist-dimmed streets. Remus started a few times as a Muggle automobile roared by, but Snape kept to his course.
The narrow streets muffled and reverberated sound, mixing the wail of a baby in the tenements with the broken grunts of drunken argument or the yowl of a cat clattering through dustbins. Remus was beginning to feel more at ease when out of the stinging brown fog a raspy voice growled behind him.