A/N: Many small delays grew into one very long delay in posting this chapter. In apology, this one is extra long.

Chapter Fifteen

Ron sat on the edge of Ginny's bed, picking at the coverlet and shooting unhappy glances at his sister and Hermione. The two witches had relegated him to the other side of the small room when he had been unable to stop laughing, and he was downright angry at their inability to see the humor in the situation. Just the thought of ugly, greasy old Snape desperately fantasizing over a bottle of Ogden's Old while he swept around his classroom snapping at hapless students....

"What's so funny?!" Hermione whispered furiously. Ron hunched over, pale skin turning crimson with repressed laughter.

"This's so bloody hilarious!" Ron could no longer contain his mirth. "Can you just see Snape, totally smashed at some big Order dinner, passing out at the table?!"

"Ron!" Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Honestly, can't you see this is serious? Professor Snape has to be able to fool Voldemort- " Ron cringed at the name. "Oh, grow up, Ronald Weasley!"

"I am, Hermione! You didn't grow up hearing about You-Know-Who! Besides, you heard Moody - Snape's probably just waiting for the opportunity to turn us all in."

"Ron!" Hermione's voice was sharp with annoyance. "If you can't keep quiet or at least be reasonable, go somewhere else!"

"It's not my fault you have no sense of humor, Hermione," he grumbled. "What are you two whispering about, anyway?"

"We are trying to think of a way to help Professor Snape, Ron." Hermione replied with a pointed look.

"Why?" Ron was truly mystified. What was it with girls and always having to stick their noses into other people's business? Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Ron, you idiot, think for a moment. If Snape gets caught, the Order loses its spy. If the Order loses its spy, we're at a disadvantage. If we're at a disadvantage, You-Know-Who might win." Ginny spoke slowly and clearly, as if to a small child. Ron bristled.

"We don't even know if he's really on our side, Gin! I mean, really, he's such a git-" Hermione stilled him with a glare. "He is, Hermione! And you heard Moody, we can't trust Snape for a moment."

"Oh, shut up, Ron." His sister turned away and muttered something under her breath to Hermione.

"What was that, Ginerva Weasley?!" Ron jumped up from the cot, face flushing. He was about to spring on his sister when his mother opened the door.

Mrs. Weasley took one look at the impending brawl and screeched, "RONALDWEASLEYDON'TYOUDARE!!" When three startled faces had turned toward her, she huffed and continued in a quieter voice. "Well, really. I would have thought better of you two, at almost fifteen and sixteen years of age." Her offspring wilted at her glare. "It's high time you three were in bed. Ron, I believe your room is across the hall?" Mrs. Weasley stood pointedly to the side of the open door, and Ron dragged himself out with a last angry look at Ginny and Hermione.

"G'night, Ron," Hermione said softly.

"G'night."

Mrs. Weasley gave both Ginny and Hermione a kiss on the forehead and an admonition to brush their teeth before she gently closed the door. They waited until they heard the Weasley matriarch climb the stairs to the third floor before continuing to talk.

...........................

Heavy, thick darkness, terrifyingly absolute. Turgid summer heat...

Boom. Boom. Boom.

A zing of fear sizzled through his nerves and he leapt off the floor, or at least tried to - the gelatinous air slowed his movements and the floor tipped steadily to his left, upsetting his balance. He stumbled, the world suddenly hugely empty around him. Echoes slid into his head, scraping across bone as ice gathered along his fingers and toes, heavy, heavy...

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Not again - not again! The floor shifted beneath him and he fell against something hard. Liquid was dripping down his brow, between his shoulder blades... blood, blood... Was it his? Was it his own blood, or someone else's? A massive numbness filled him as his hands began to shake.

...........................

Remus started awake when something crashed into the desk under the window. Fumbling for his wand, he shouted "Lumos!"

Snape stood in the middle of the floor, gasping and shaking as sweat streamed down his face and darkened the Muggle shirt clinging to his back.

"Snape?" Remus pushed himself groggily from the bed, vaguely surprised to find his shoes still on his feet. The gaunt wizard shrank away from him, blinking furiously. "Snape? What's wrong?"

"Blood - blood!" Snape scrubbed furiously at his face. Remus flicked his wand and lit the whole room before moving to peer closely at him.

"There's no blood, Severus," he said quietly.

"N - no! It's -" Snape moaned. "Everywhere -"

"Where is it, Severus?" Remus asked awkwardly. He felt as if his limbs had been frozen, movement suspended by the bizarrity of the situation. "I don't think you're bleeding, Sev-" Snape suddenly flinched.

"Wha - wha's thet sound?!" Snape whispered fearfully.

Remus slowly stepped away from him, a twitch of hollow anxiety worming through his gut.

"There wasn't any sound, Severus," he replied, the static lump of surreality beginning to vibrate behind his eyes. Snape cocked his head as if to catch a fleeting noise. Was he hallucinating?

From where Remus stood, he couldn't smell anything from Snape but sour, salty sweat shot through with cold, bitter threads of fear. "Severus, sit down for a moment," Remus cajoled, reaching out a tentative hand.

"No! D-don't touch me!" Snape shrunk backward, stumbling against the overturned desk chair and falling with a crash against the wall. ::Well, now he's bleeding,:: a voice muttered in his head. Gritting his teeth, Remus knelt beside the shaking wizard. ::Remember, this is partly your fault,:: he growled at himself.

Snape had cut a shallow gash over his eye against the edge of the desk. A thick trickle of blood oozed down the line of his cheek and along the side of his prominent nose, bisecting his face. For a moment, Remus had the unsettling impression that Snape's head had been cracked in two by the blow.

"Severus?" Remus waved a hand in front of Snape's eyes. The dark haired wizard blinked slowly.

"G'way," Snape whispered. At Snape's continued refusal, the dam of Remus' patience broke and a cold flood of frustrated exhaustion swept through him.

"Fine, Snape. Have it your way." He knew he should do more, should check to see if Snape was injured any further, but his eyelids were no longer able to hold the weight of sleep from his eyes. Besides, if he tried to help, the ungrateful wretch would probably...
............................

The dusty sunlight streaming through the window lit his eyelids a burning, fiery red. He tried to roll away from the light but his muscles seized, pulling at his brittle bones until he gasped with pain. ::No - not again...:: He couldn't remember much beyond confused images of a filthy back alley, a crowded bar, a dingy public restroom... Ice-cold disbelief curled in his stomach. Surely those were just old memories...? He wasn't - he hadn't - His blood throbbed through his skull with pulverizing force and he began trembling with stiff tension as memories and thoughts jittering through his conscious. ::Merlin, I need a drink.::

Eyes still tightly closed, he managed to lever himself off the floor with shaking arms and make it halfway to standing before another shock of cold stiffened his muscles and he stumbled and fell to his knees with a dull thud. Blackness began to creep along the edges of his consciousness and he leaned back against the wall.

Sleep, or some semblance thereof, was about to claim him when he shifted and something poked him in the side. Horrified disbelief spiked through his aching brain as his hand drifted of its own accord to his pocket. The feel of slick plastic bags against his fingertips sent a shock of heated, roiling desire straight to his gut.

::No, no, no...::

He could feel his heart beating frantically against his ribs, pumping heated gravel through his veins.

::Don't do it - ::

He bit the inside of his lip against the hovering nausea and buzzing, thirsty need as he lurched to his feet and stumbled toward the kitchen.

He stepped into the kitchen, gripping the doorframe.

::Weak, weak, weak...::

He licked cracked lips with a dry tongue, a sudden wave of swirling nausea forcing him to lean forward against the counter.

::Can't :control: yourself?::

The dark little kitchen rotated slowly around him, fading and coming into sharp focus before edges smudged again.

::Look, ol' Snivelly can't even...::

He screwed his eyes shut against the - hothothotneedtotakeitnow - fist twisting his gut with sweet - ohMerlinplease - need to feel the beautiful calm emptiness push away the cold, hard truth of reality.

::Reject his own...::

Why even bother fighting it? I'm going to die soon, anyway... who cares?

::No willpower...::

But - it feels so good... Safe... calm...

::Not even worth resisting: you couldn't even if you tried, and I know you - you won't, you little...::

A hot sludge of anger and grief thundered through him.

No! I'm not going to -

I can't -

Because...

::"Need I say I am very disappointed with your behavior, Severus?"::

Because...

::"Just don't let it happen again, Mr. Snape."::

It's not real -

NO!!!

...........................

"Aaargh!"

A scream and the sound of breaking glass jolted him awake, and he fell off the cot in a tangle of sheets. "What the - ?" He winced as another crash sounded from the tiny kitchen. "Severus?"

It took him a moment to untangle himself from the bed sheets and take the two steps across the cramped sitting room, but at the doorway of the kitchen he stopped. Much of the china and glassware that had been on the stained countertop was now strewn across the cracked tiles of the kitchen floor. Snape was leaning heavily over the tiny sink, head bowed and greasy black hair obscuring his face.

Remus was about to step through the doorway when, with another furious yell, Snape swept the remaining glassware from the counter, hands spraying droplets of blood from cuts glittering with glass splinters.

"Merlin at the Stake, Snape!" Remus gasped. "What the bloody hell are you doing-?"

Snape jerked his head, lank strands of hair whipping across blank black eyes sunk deep into the bruised flesh of their sockets. His pale face was darkly shadowed with stubble and thick, rusty blood crusted the gash over his eye. With a wordless snarl he turned on the faucet, ripped something out of his pocket and tore it open. Fine white powder spilled into the discolored porcelain sink and was quickly swept away by the stream of water.

Snape stood before the running sink, scraps of a small plastic bag crushed in shaking, bloody hands. After a moment he leaned back against the kitchen wall, head bent and shoulders hunched forward. Remus stood perfectly still at the doorway, too stunned to move.

A sudden knock at the door shook Remus out of his frozen state.

"Remus? Severus? Is everything all right?" The door muffled Molly Weasley's voice. Remus didn't see Snape crumple to the floor as he turned and hurried to answer the Weasley matriarch.

He cracked the door open to see Molly standing in the dark corridor, a worried expression on her kind face.

"Hey, Mrs. Weasley," he greeted her, a hopefully normal expression plastered to his face. He could feel it slip a little as she frowned and tried to peer around the door.

"I heard breaking glass. What happened? Are you and Severus all right?"

"Uh, a cup slipped out of my hands. I was making tea, you know, and - "

Molly gave him a dubious look. "I raised seven children, young man, and you're not fooling me one bit! Now, what is going on in there?"

"Um -"

Mrs. Weasley suddenly pulled back, a scandalized expression on her face. "Mr. Lupin, do you two have Company?!"

"Er -"

"Mrs. Weasley, how kind of you to stop by." Remus started at Snape's collected tones. He glanced over his shoulder to see Snape next to him, behind the door and out of view of Mrs. Weasley. Snape continued, voice hoarse from screaming. "I'm afraid I knocked a couple of glasses off the counter: fortunately it was nothing I couldn't fix with a few charms. Now, if you will excuse us, I'm not decent." With a shove, Snape slammed the door in Mrs. Weasley's startled face before sagging to the floor, back against the door.

"B-but - you don't have a wand!" Remus exclaimed, his still half- asleep mind grasping onto the least dangerous straw it could find.

"What the bloody hell are you babbling about, Lupin?" Snape leaned his head back against the splintery wood of the door and closed his eyes. Remus noted that he cut over Snape's eye had reopened and was seeping a slow trickle of blood.

"You couldn't have fixed those glasses, you have no wand!" Remus repeated.

"If you are going to worry at inconsequential bits of trivia like a dog - excuse me, wolf - at a bone, I shall be forced to ignore you." Snape's voice was fading to a hoarse croak and he shut his eyes tightly against the early morning light beginning to stream through the window. Remus could see the muscles and tendons of Snape's neck working with repressed emotion.

"But - are you okay? I mean -" Remus nodded toward the little kitchen.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you to finish your sentences, Lupin? Or was she too busy trying to keep you from chasing sticks and howling at the moon?" Despite the heavy rasp of the words in his throat, Snape managed to inject his tone with most of its usual waspish vitriol.

Remus forced down the time muted sense of sorrow at the thought of his mother, but was unable to keep a bitter edge out of his voice. "Don't change the subject, Severus." Remus could see Snape's eyes roll beneath their lids.

"Did I hit a sore spot, /Moony/? The truth hurts sometimes, doesn't it?" Remus gritted his teeth. ::I'm taking this from the man who told Poppy Pomfrey that, contrary to all evidence, he was neither drinking nor taking drugs?!::

"I suppose that explains why I just saw you pouring heroin down the kitchen sink," Remus spat back. Snape sat perfectly still for several moments. A sudden cold cloud of ascorbic fear and sour shame saturated the air and Remus' nose twitched. He immediately regretted his words and was about to apologize when Snape hissed at him, effectively curing him of any such notion.

"Remind me to check the Wolfsbane for any hallucinatory side effects, Lupin: you're clearly delusional."

Remus shut his mouth with a snap. "You're bloody sick, Snape. You really need help, you know that?" He could feel exhaustion beating down on him, dragging at his leaden limbs. "Look, Severus, I'm sorry -"

"Fuck off, Lupin," Snape grated, fists clenching and bloodshot eyes flying open. ::Will he never stop?!:: Remus felt his anger flare again, fueled by sleeplessness and the other man's unceasing antagonism. His next words slipped loose before his tired mind could rein in his tongue.

"What, no witty comeback? Did I hit a sore spot, /Snivellus/? The truth hurts sometimes, doesn't it?" He suddenly felt wired by his own daring, electrified by the words he normally kept firmly shut away. Snape snarled.

"You - you - " Snape looked on the verge of combustion and the rational side of Remus was horrified with his comments toward him. Those were the sort of things other people said, not kindly, considerate, put - up - with - hell - because - he - bloody - well - owes - everyone - else Remus J. Lupin. ::All right - I'm going to try this one more time...::

"Look, Severus, we both need some sleep -" He stepped hastily back as Snape lurched clumsily to his feet.
...........................

::What have I done? What have I done?!:: He felt as if something inside of him was swirling down the drain with the pearly narcotic. ::No - it's not real -:: He slid down the wall. The handles on the cabinet tugged at his thin Muggle shirt and scraped coldly at the skin on his back, but he felt it no more than he felt the faint sting of glass shards in his hands and imbedded in the soles of his feet.

"Remus? Severus? Is everything all right?" Molly Weasley's voice seemed garbled, as if he had his head underwater. He felt the vibrations of Lupin's feet as he hurried to answer the door.

"Hey, Mrs. Weasley." Lupin's morning cheer sounded forced, and Snape huddled closer in on himself. Eyes closed, he became suddenly aware of the sensation of the cotton weave of his shirt along his arms and back, of his cool, sweaty brow pressed against his forearms. He floated, empty and hollow, a shell of pain enclosing nothing...

Lupin was still chattering inanely with the Weasley Matriarch. ::Damn bloody werewolf, so bloody patronizing... does he think she's an idiot?!:: With a grunt he hauled himself unsteadily to his feet, leaning against the doorframe until the worst of the dizziness passed.

He could hear Mrs. Weasley's skepticism grow with each of the werewolf's fumbles and half-truths. ::Damnit, Lupin, is that the best you can come up with?:: He slitted his eyes against the light of the morning sun just beginning to slip over the rooftops of Muggle London and took a step. Exhaustion and strain suffused his muscles with a chilly tingle, weakening his limbs.

Snape finally made it to the door, keeping carefully out of Mrs. Weasley's sight. He knew he looked a wreck. "Mrs. Weasley, how kind of you to stop by." He fought the urge to clear his throat. "I'm afraid I knocked a couple of glasses off the counter: fortunately it was nothing I couldn't fix with a few charms. Now, if you will excuse us, I'm not decent." He leaned against the door and shut it before Mrs. Weasley could ask any more questions.

"B-but - you don't have a wand!"

"What the bloody hell are you babbling about, Lupin?"

"You couldn't have fixed those glasses, you have no wand!" Snape sighed.

"If you are going to worry at inconsequential bits of trivia like a dog - excuse me, wolf - at a bone, I shall be forced to ignore you." A dull, throbbing ache was beginning in his bones and he wished the werewolf would leave him alone to stew privately in his misery.

"But - are you okay? I mean -" Lupin's tired, tentative, touchy- feely voice grated across Snape's nerves like steel on flint. He didn't need anything from the damn werewolf, didn't need his patronizing, snicker- behind-a-hand bloody fucking ::attitude::. He was a fully grown wizard: he didn't have to put up with that kind of crap anymore. Except... he didn't have a wand. Damn werewolf, can't even bloody well speak proper English.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you to finish your sentences, Lupin? Or was she too busy trying to keep you from chasing sticks and howling at the moon?"

"Don't change the subject, Severus."

"Oh, did I hit a sore spot, /Moony/? The truth hurts sometimes, doesn't it?"

"I suppose that explains why I just saw you pouring heroin down the kitchen sink." Snape froze, his organs rearranging themselves in his chest. ::He saw me...:: A moment passed before he could come up with a suitable retort.

"Remind me to check the Wolfsbane for any hallucinatory side effects, Lupin: you're clearly delusional."

He winced as the werewolf's jaws snapped -bloody broken bones- audibly together before Lupin responded. "You're bloody sick, Snape. You really need help, you know that?" There was a pause, and then he continued. "Look, Severus, I'm sorry -"

"Fuck off, Lupin," he snarled, finally opening his eyes. Heavy, angry heat was fighting the cotton that stuffed his skull. He didn't need help from anyone, least of all that lousy, no good werewolf - he was completely in control of everything - who did he think he was?

"What, no witty comeback? Did I hit a sore spot, /Snivellus/? The truth hurts sometimes, doesn't it?" Helpless anger thundered through Snape at having his own words hurled back at him, and he snarled in impotent rage at his lack of control over the situation.

"You - you - " He was sick and tired of this, tired of his emotions being so strong and raw, sick of simply being aware of his shame, his weak humiliation. He felt a shiver of disgust at himself and resisted the urge to sob at his complete lack of control over his own thrice-damned life.

::Why am I doing this? Why am I even trying to break loose?:: It wasn't worth the pain, the raw vulnerability, the sensitivity - he could just sink back into the warm, safe stupor. There wasn't any point in fighting it, when all the battle got him was this drear, hopeless, antagonistic reality.

::Why should I have to feel this way?:: A good, stiff drink would go a good way toward fixing things and soothe his aching emptiness. Why was he sitting there, miserable, when he could easily numb out the world?

::Why the bloody hell did I wash that heroin down the sink?!:: He could just shoot up and this would all go away for a while, Dumbledores and Dark Lords and patronizing werewolves be damned. It would be so easy... ::I should have more in my coat pocket...::

"Look, Severus, we both need some sleep -" The werewolf stepped back as Snape struggled to his feet, an overwhelming anger dragging at his bones like a magnet bending heated metal bars.

"Shut up! SHUT UP, DAMNIT!" He could feel himself spitting with the force of his words. The room darkened and dropped out from under his throbbing feet.
..............................

Remus stepped forward and caught Snape as he fell. "Severus..." Cold, numbing exhaustion sucked at his limbs, and Snape's body was a hot, bony weight in his arms.

"Let. Go. Of. Me." Snape hissed into the front of Remus' sleep rumpled shirt. The futility of attempting to help Snape bit at Remus' tired mind and he let Snape slide to the floor.

"Fine, Snape. I'm going back to bed. I suggest you do the same." ::Time to take care of yourself,:: he thought, and wasn't sure if he was thinking of himself or of the dark haired wizard kneeling on the worn wood planks of the floor.

...................................

"And then, would you believe it, that man slammed the door in my face! If he had been one of my children..." Molly Weasley scrubbed furiously at a stubborn spot of grease on a frying pan. Tonks shared a glance with Bill Weasley, who rolled his eyes and smiled back. They shared a suspicion about Snape's and Lupin's relationship.

"...half a mind to go back up there and..." Molly's voice floated in and out of the rattle of dishes and the rasp of the scrubbing brush before with a huff she tossed them down in a splash of sudsy water and waved her wand at them. They immediately stood back up and continued scrubbing on their own. "Does anyone want tea?"

"It's all right, Mum, I'm sure they didn't mean anything by it," Bill said softly. He knew how he would feel if someone barged in on him when he was in a compromising position. Tonks shot him an amused smile. "Tea sounds great," he quickly added as Molly glared and shook the teapot at him.

"Good. A pot of tea will help us all calm down. Tonks?"

"Yes, please, Mrs. Weasley." Tonks seemed to be unaware of the fact that her hair was Weasley red and freckles were dusting across her nose. Bill held back a snort of amusement. Molly Weasley tended to have the effect of making people feel like her children.

Molly pulled out one of the battered chairs and sat with a sigh. The early morning light filtering through the high, dirty windows left her face in shadows. "Those two..." Bill could tell that something was bothering her beyond what she was telling them.

"What's really bothering you, Mum?" Bill prompted as he stood to take the whistling kettle off the fire and grab three teacups. Tonks sat forward in her chair.

"Oh, nothing, really. They're grown men, they can take care of themselves," Molly waved her hand dismissively. Bill could see Tonks bite the inside of her cheek, and he had to repress the desire to laugh.

"Mum, you never think anyone's grown up, or that they can take care of themselves." Molly busied herself filling teacups, although the tea had barely had a chance to steep.

"It's just that - well..." Her eyes suddenly glinted. "Honestly, I know they're up to something. Our home would never have survived the twins if I wasn't able to tell when someone was hiding something!" Molly banged the table in frustration. "Severus... I've never liked that man, to tell the truth, no matter what Albus says. And poor Remus, stuck sharing those rooms with him, as if there wasn't plenty of room in this blasted house-!" Bill raised a placating hand.

"Would you like me to try and see if I can find out what's going on?" Molly looked gratefully at him and patted his cheek.

"You were always so helpful, Bill," she said briskly before turning cheerfully back to the now clean pots and pans. "Tonks, dear, would you help me cast some last drying charms on these?"

..................................................

::It's not real... it's not real...: He bit his hand and tried to think of something else, but he was consumed by the dry, empty heat of thirst throbbing through his ribcage. He bit down harder as a lance of frigid ice slammed through his skull and receded, swinging back to gather strength for the next cranial assault.

What he really needed was a drink - a stiff gin, or even firewhiskey. Stupid bloody teetotalling werewolf...

...........................................

The stairs creaked under his unsteady footsteps, and he grasped the handrail, his other hand pressed against the dingy wallpaper of the stairwell. He almost tripped as he reached the first landing, foot jarring on the level floor.

"It's just that - well... Honestly, I know they're up to something." Molly Weasley. Damn. "Our home would never have survived the twins if I wasn't able to tell when someone was hiding something!" Snape felt the earth slide slightly beneath his feet. "Severus... I've never liked that man, to tell the truth, no matter what Albus says. And poor Remus, stuck sharing those rooms with him, as if there weren't plenty of empty rooms in this blasted house-!"

::Oh, yes, poor werewolf, let's feel sorry for /him/ all the time, because he's so wonderful and sweet and everyone /likes/ him, never mind that he's an irresponsible, dangerous, ravening beast half the time...::

"Would you like me to try and see if I can find out what's going on?" Bill Weasley. As long as they stayed in the kitchen, he should be able to slip through the door unnoticed...

"You were always so helpful, Bill," Mrs. Weasley gushed. "Tonks, dear, would you help me cast some last drying charms on these?"

Catching his breath at the creak of a floorboard, Snape slid his foot forward along the carpeted landing and tried to find the next step. Thirst swelled in his throat and chest, jittering across his raw bones as he eased down the stairs and into the dark entrance hall, and out the door into the gray morning. A second after the heated pavement burned the cut-up soles of his feet and reminded him of the boots he had left inside, the muscles in his arm contracted with the pain of a Summons.

.......................................

He jerked awake at the slam of the door and the thunder of running feet.

"What the-?" Blinking, he sat up as best he could, back twingeing. "Severus...?" He turned at the sound of Snape's trunk thudding closed. The gaunt man whipped a black cloak around his shoulders and ran back out. Remus blinked, then blinked again before lying back down and drifting off to sleep once more.

............................................

"Remus? Wake up, my boy." Sleep swirled through his body, buzzing in his fingers and toes, but Dumbledore's voice was insistent. "It's one o'clock in the afternoon, high time to eat something. Molly tells me you haven't been down for food yet today. Would you like some tea and biscuits?"

"Mmpf." Remus felt himself tugged towards the voice, a faint twinge making itself felt in his stomach. "Bisc'ts sn'd gud," he mumbled into his pillow.

"Very good. Now-" There was the sound of tea things clinking. "Why are you so tired, my boy?"

Eyelids as unwieldy as wet sandbags, he attempted to sit up and face the old wizard. "Um..." The fog of sleep still gripped his mind and he struggled vainly for an answer. Dumbledore chuckled and pressed a cup of steaming tea into his hands.

"Drink this." Remus numbly closed his fingers around the cup and lifted it to his mouth, scalding his tongue. "Remus, have you seen Severus?"

Severus? Why would he know about... oh. Memories crashed into him with their typical morning intensity. "Oh." His eyes lost some of their weight, and he lifted them to regard the serious visage of the Headmaster. "Erm, he's not here?"

"No, Remus, he's not." Something in the old Headmaster's tone of voice sparked hotly behind Remus' eyes. He calmly put down his teacup, now fully awake.

"Well, then. Was there something you wanted, Albus?" He didn't trust the ancient wizard's placid demeanor.

"Would you care to explain why he is not here with you?" The words were calmly said, but the spark of heat in Remus blazed up despite his attempts to calm himself.

"No, I wouldn't. Since when exactly have Severus Snape's actions been my responsibility?"

"Remus-"

"No!" He could feel his breath quickening as the tension of the last few weeks burst free of his control. He stood and began pacing while Dumbledore continued to sit calmly on the armchair. "I can't control him! It's not my /responsibility/ to control him! He needs help, Albus. I can't give it - I have my own problems to deal with. I shudder to think of what Mahu is going to say about all these delays, especially over a human wizard."

He turned to face the still sitting Headmaster before continuing, words pouring out faster than he could monitor. "And did you ever think about how all this is affecting me?! Do you think I ever wanted to go into some Muggle slum and score drugs, then have to /carry/ Snape back here because he was too stoned to stand? Do you have any idea how frightening that was?"

He paused, panting with the force of his emotions. He hadn't realized how terrified he had actually been until he said it out loud. "Albus - I can't do this anymore. Please, don't ask me to keep going."

Dumbledore sat calmly, the afternoon sun catching on the tiny golden stars spangling his deep blue robes. "He procured more heroin?"

With a sigh, Remus sat down on the edge of his cot, anger drained by the ancient wizard's calm. "Yeah, last night. I came up here and he was a wreck. He, er, begged me to apparate him to Bankside. If I hadn't, he was going to go out on his own. I figured..."

"You did the right thing, Remus." Dumbledore's unexpected approval washed warmly over Remus and he relaxed a little. "This is, however, a serious problem. May I ask if this has anything to do with the mess in your kitchen?"

"Well..." Remus found himself strangely reluctant to tell Dumbledore about so private a moment, but at Dumbledore's concerned glance toward the little kitchen, Remus relented. "He woke me up this morning, trashing the kitchen. His hands and feet were all cut up from the glass. Then he, uh, poured the heroin down the sink." When he paused, Dumbledore gestured for him to continue. "That's it. Then Molly knocked on the door."

"Do you remember Severus leaving? He managed to leave bloody hand and foot prints all over the corridor; Molly is most angry." The old wizard leaned forward and gazed earnestly at Remus, who wracked his brain. His memory was rather fuzzy on what happened after Molly left.

"I think we got into an argument, and then I went back to sleep." He shrugged, suddenly tired again. "I don't know where he is, Albus."

"Neither do I, my boy, neither do I." Dumbledore leaned back in the worn old chair, the diffuse afternoon light casting warm shadows in his silvery beard as he raised his cup to his mouth.

Remus sighed, feeling guilty despite his best attempts to let it be Someone Else's Problem. "Er, I don't have anything to do today. D'you want me to...?"

"No, no... please, stay nearby so that he is not alone if - when - he returns. He may have been Summoned by Voldemort." He put his cup down on its saucer. "Well then, please contact me if you do see him, Remus. I should be at he school for the remainder of the evening." With that he stood, shook out his dark, star strewn robes, nodded at Remus, and left.

...........................................................

He landed in a disorienting cloud of dust and promptly sneezed, skewing his mask.

"Did you managed to get home safely last time, Snape?" a voice mocked with false sympathy.

"Oh, leave the poor little man alone, can't you see he has problems?" sneered another, and the room around him erupted with hushed laughter. Snape struggled to his feet, wrenching the stupid, blinding mask off his face. He wouldn't need it here, anyway. Glancing around, he took in the faded glory of the Dark Lord's antechamber.

Black cloaked Death Eaters lounged on dusty, old-fashioned armchairs scattered across dirty silk rugs. A few torches lit the soot stained walls, their smoke obscuring the low, blackened ceiling and permeating the room with the scent of ashes and burnt cobwebs. He itched furtively at the departing burn of the Dark Mark and claimed one of the armchairs, ignoring the others and trying not to sneeze again.

"Snape." A voice hissed in his ear and he tried not to flinch.

"What, Bulstrode?" Snape hissed back, fingers tapping jerkily on the arm of the chair. He felt twitchy, unable to relax around the thick, dry burn of thirst in his throat and chest.

"Clean up your act, Snape; you reek. You teach my daughter while drunk or stoned on your filthy Muggle drugs, and I'll-" The heavy, double oak doors at the far end of the dark room creaked open and all sound in the antechamber ceased. Bulstrode's fingers dug painfully into Snape's shoulder, slipping between the prominent bones.

"Malfoy, the Dark Lord wishes to see you." Across the room, a tall, blond figure stood with an elegant swish of silk robes and strode toward the doors. When they closed again with a small puff of dust, Bulstrode jerked at Snape's shoulder and forced his chair around. With a sudden hot surge of anger, Snape stood to confront the blustering, slightly overweight man. They were of about the same height, and Snape glared through watering eyes at the other Death Eater's sharp blue ones.

"You'll what, Bulstrode?" he hissed poisonously. Sickeningly sweet venom pounded behind his eyes and his hands prickled with restrained violence. The bald wizard sneered, a lip lifting to show small, even, and very white teeth set in bloodless gums.

"Listen, you lying, filthy, degenerate scum, I won't have such a wasted excuse for a wizard near my child. If it weren't for the Dark Lord's desperate need for a spy in Dumbledore's school, I'd kill you myself and hang your disgusting carcass from the battlements of Bulstrode Manor. Actually, that would be too good for a penniless Snape bastard – I'll just toss your sorry remains in a rubbish bin somewhere in a back alley off Knockturn-"

CRACK! Snape's bony fist smashed into the other wizard's padded jaw. Bulstrode grunted and reached for his wand and dark cloaked figures dropped their conversations and gathered in a shifting circle around them.

"Draw your wand, Snape," Bulstrode growled thickly through gritted teeth. "I said, draw your wand!" After a moment of silence, Bulstrode laughed. "Coward. You're not worth the effort." He leaned forward and spat in Snape's face. "I'd wear my mask to see the Dark Lord, Snape. Wouldn't want your ugly mug putting the Dark Lord off his food, would you?" Everyone suddenly turned as the double doors groaned open again to discharge a shaky, disheveled Malfoy.

"Snape! He wants to see you now."