Chapter Seven
"Return of the Werewolf."
The afternoon following Granger's leave-taking found Snape and Potter returning to their old routines.
"Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Surprisingly correct. Wrong. Wrong." Snape looked up from marking Potter's quiz with a smirk, quill dripping red ink. "You've been remiss in your studies, Mr. Potter."
Potter shrugged lightly, not looking up from the open book before him. Snape frowned at his bait gone un-bitten. He was about to make another attempt to rouse Potter into some kind of confrontation when they were disturbed by the front door banging open, and Remus Lupin staggering through, blood dripping down his pale forehead, propping himself up with a stick held by his right hand, his left leg dragging helplessly behind him. "Harry…" he said faintly with great relief. "Oh, thank God." And then he fainted.
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Snape had done what he could before summoning Dumbledore, but Lupin looked like the freshly exhumed, and Potter looked sick from worry. The boy was hovering over Lupin's frightfully-still body when Dumbledore managed to sweep in. His eyes were bits of pale blue glass, sharp enough to cut. He looked grimly down at Lupin from Potter's side.
"I was afraid something had happened after he failed to get in touch with me this morning," Dumbledore said. "It's a wonder he managed to get himself to Headquarters."
Potter scowled. "You shouldn't have sent him out alone. He's not strong enough." His tone was that of worry, but more tellingly, also of ire. Snape silently gaped behind them – he'd never heard anyone rebuke Albus Dumbledore before.
Dumbledore sighed. "He's a fully trained wizard, Harry. He knew the risks when he took them."
"And," Lupin stirred on the bed, "'He' is also awake."
Snape sneered at the resulting reunion scene between Potter and Lupin, resisting the urge to sick up in response the saccharine nature of their greetings. Honestly, he'd thought only Hufflepuffs could attain that level of sappiness. When they'd finally ceased gushing over one another, Dumbledore shooed Potter from the room quite firmly, saying that he needed to debrief Lupin. Snape allowed himself a brief, self-satisfied smirk before he realized that he, too, was being ushered outside. He gaped at the door that had closed in his face for a few seconds before coming aware that Potter was smirking at him impertinently.
He scowled at the brat and stalked off to the kitchen to organize some form of tea. He didn't see Potter's vaguely relieved expression as the teen dashed off to the upper levels of the house – and if he had, he'd no doubt have followed from spite and curiousity.
Harry had in fact gone up into the room he sometimes slept in, where he kept all his stuff. He knelt under the somewhat musty bed and withdrew from beneath it a wrapped bundle. Opening it, he was momentarily blinded by light glinting off of the mirror shards – Sirius' mirror shards that Harry had so thoughtlessly shattered earlier that year. He had cast a Reparo on it a few weeks ago, desperate to have at least one thing left over from his godfather; and had gone on to again try to contact Sirius from beyond the Veil. The second attempt had been any better than the first, and again in a fit of rage, Harry had flung the mirror down… only this time, it had broken into three distinct pieces.
And Harry had had an idea.
It had taken him a while to find all the charms, but the mirror pieces were ready to receive them having been spelled already; and though it was a bit tricky to create a three-way communication system rather than the standard two-way, the extra effort was worth it when Harry thought about being able to talk to his friends, no matter where they were.
He'd already given Hermione her shard, knowing that she knew its significance. Ron would have to get his when they could meet in person. Harry wasn't entrusting the shard to any owl, not even Hedwig; maybe he was being paranoid, but they really were out to get him, so he felt justified.
Leaning over one shard's surface, he whispered, "Hermione Granger," and waited for her face to appear.
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Neither he nor Potter were privy to whatever passed between Lupin and Dumbledore that afternoon; Snape growled inaudibly and reassured himself that he didn't want to know anything that had to do with werewolves. Still, curiousity bit at him with vicious little teeth – much like the snake's fangs that his House was so enamoured of, and he found himself in a rather worse than usual temper.
This was not helped when Dumbledore cheerfully informed him, just as he was leaving, that Lupin would be recuperating at No. 12 Grimmauld.
"But-" Snape protested, trying to rally a coherent argument from an altogether incoherent mind, "But wouldn't St. Mungo's be best? Or even Hogwarts, it has the Hospital Wing—" He didn't want to share quarters with Lupin for any amount of time.
Dumbledore shook his head. "I am sorry, dear boy, but what Remus needs now is rest more than magical healing. He has also expressed a wish to stay close to Harry for the time being. I'm sure that you wouldn't begrudge either of them the other's company."
Snape scowled blackly. "Well, then, why can't I leave? You now have a replacement babysitter for Potter. I'm no longer necessary."
"Ah, but you are," Dumbledore tapped his finger to his nose knowingly. "Harry, for all that he cares for Remus, would have difficulty ensuring that all of Remus' physical needs were met. And Remus, for all that he would give his life for Harry, is hardly in any state to act as a protective figure."
"Oh, lovely. Instead of just the one charge, now I have two," Snape snorted and threw his hands in the air.
Dumbledore beamed. "So glad you see it my way," and stepped into the fireplace behind him, flooing back to Hogsmeade.
"As if there were any other way, you barmy old man," Snape muttered and beat a hasty retreat to his rooms.
Over the course of the following days, he found himself in the dubious position of authority above the infamous Boy-Who-Lived and a werewolf. He couldn't enjoy the power to its utmost because whenever he attempted to boss either around, Lupin would turn ghastly pale and plead exhaustion, and Potter would twitter around him like an over-excited turkey with its head cut off. It seemed that with only this tenuous link the past left, Potter was more determined than ever to keep it intact.
Snape was contented to leave Lupin and Potter alone. He supped with them occasionally, but Lupin was often too weak to make his way down to the kitchen, and Potter took meals with the wolf no matter where they were. Snape knew that he really should be getting back to teaching the dunderheaded Gryffindor fool, but couldn't fault himself for skiving off. He consoled himself with the thought that all the tutoring in the world wouldn't help the little ingrate anyway – they were doomed to be failed by an incompetent saviour and cast down at the Dark Lord's strangely scaly feet, and while Snape could honestly say that he had tried, he wasn't going to exhaust himself. That was the providence of fools.
With Potter so obviously useless, he had to keep his strength up. When it came down to it, he'd make sure that he – and as many others as he could salvage, he supposed when he was feeling kindly – would survive. He was Slytherin.
Yet still, there were times when Snape felt as if he were missing something… something utterly vital. Passing Potter in the hallways and catching a brief glimpse of something other than the blatant, cloying obedience the brat had made a point of to show him – seeing green eyes glare at him from behind thick lenses before glancing aside and hiding their angry light; and on the rare random drills he now engaged Potter in to at least try to keep the child's hexing skills up to par, when a particularly-gone-wrong spell left Potter looking triumphant, pleased, rather than demoralized.
And how the boy reacted to Lupin too, solicitous as a priest, always on hand to serve and assist in any remote way possible. Snape knew that Potter felt close to Lupin, but honestly – to make himself a slave? He was hardly ever from Lupin's side, and when he was, it was only to sleep.
Severus Snape was quickly finding Harry Potter a mystery. Not a particularly intriguing one, nor one worthy of his interest… but he'd be damned if he'd let a Potter – of any generation – get the better of him, and he resolved to keep a closer eye on the brat.
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"How's Professor Lupin doing then?" Hermione asked. She held her shard at angle away from her face, so that Harry could see her expression from a severe slant. It gave him an odd perspective.
"Better," he replied. "He's finding it easier to move around." Harry scowled. "He still won't tell me how he got so banged up, but I reckon it has something to do with that mission he was sent on…" Rapidly changing the subject, he asked, "So, have you managed to get the new books yet?"
Harry kept his shard beneath him and looked down at it, propped up on his elbows, lying on his stomach. He was perhaps unaware of how this particular angle made his features especially distinct and defined. Hermione had almost gasped the first time she'd seen him through the mirror, quietly admiring how her childhood friend was maturing.
She nodded affirmatively. "Yes, and they've been fascinating so far. I picked up a few extras too – a history of Magi, such as Animagi and Metamorphmagi, and a few supplementary Herbology texts. Neville recommended them." She grinned wrly. "I've rather enough DADA, Charms, and Transfigurations books to rival Hogwarts' library by now, I think. It's time to expand my collection in other directions."
Harry chuckled. "Bookworm," he softly accused. He would hardly admit how much his nightly conversations with Hermione had helped stave off the loneliness. The only thing that could make it better would be if Ron were also able to talk with them. Oh, he loved hanging around Remus- but Remus wasn't his best friends, and though he felt… secure… with the ex-Professor, it was his friends who he'd given pieces of himself all these years. They had become extensions of one another by now, solidly supporting each other, unflinching when faced with whatever the world had to throw at them. Harry glanced at the candle he'd lit a while ago, and saw that it was burnt down to half-size. "We've been talking a while. I'd better go."
Hermione smiled sweetly. "G'night, Harry."
"Night, Hermione."
Harry watched wistfully as her face wobbled slowly from view, and the mirror's surface smoothed to reflect his image. He tucked the shard safely beneath his pillow and settled down to sleep. It seemed that he had only just closed his eyes when he was being shaken awake, still screaming; and he thought, 'Fuck. Forgot the silencing charms.'
Ahhh... A speedy update to make up for the previous long wait. Again, many apologies for that! And currently, I am much sleep-deprived and slightly depressed. I just got my first semi-flame review... I call it 'semi' because it contained constructive criticism and was coached in polite language; but it still stated that I had lost a reader because of my writing style. Perhaps I'm overly sensitive (actually, I know I am), but that's still a hard statement to take. I'd rather someone warn me of a writing quirk of mine they find annoying before actually giving up on me. Ah well, I shall move onwards and upwards! (Sorry if this sounded like whining. I'm honestly just slightly depressed, that's all. I welcome any and all comments no matter what they contain, be it encouragement, criticism, or flame.)
Howl - Ah, Howl, the awesomeness that is your review will forever leave me shaking my head in awe. You manage to sneak in at least a half a dozen literary references before I can even blink. It's astounding, really; and very very cool. I'm so glad you like Ch.6! I was hoping that while it didn't contain action, it would still be entertaining in one form or another. And thanks for approving of my Hermione! I suppose I identify most with her out of all the characters, for I too am a bushy-haired know-it-all (my old nick-name was 'Walking Dictionary'. Oh the shame!). Thanks so much for not pressuring for updates. It's so refreshing to get that amongst all the others clamoring with pleas of 'update ASAP!'. It's a great relief not to have that kind of obligation to pressure-write, and when the pressure is lifted from me, I tend to write more. Heh, I guess that means your assurances have led directly to this speedy update! I declare you now my muse! (If you don't mind accepting the position...)
blackshift - Well, the funny's not really going to be back in this fic for a while... really, it's going more for revelations and drama, a bit of action, and a lot of angst. Perhaps a sprinkling of hope. I'm truly sorry about that, if you were expecting to get back to the humour... perhaps in the sequel, which I plan to write soon, you'll find more of what you like. But thanks so much for your support!
duj - Thank you! I hope you continue to be thought-provoked by ensuing chapters/sequels.
tweeny-weeny - No! Most definitely not! And hey, we have something in common - my friend, too, is slightly homicidal when in my presence. It gets to be quite painful... I hope you like this latest chapter!
me - Well, I don't know why I'm responding to this since you've already admitted to ceasing in reading my story and so will likely never read this... But yes, thanks for your criticism - I'm not sure that I'd necessarily take your advice had you given it earlier in the chapters when it would have made the most difference, but it was welcome all the same and I sincerely hope you find less irritating stories to read.
Strega - Thank you! I strive for the unexpected. I was hoping that little bit of Harry's scheming would get a laugh out of someone out there... I'm glad you found the theoretical discussion interesting. I was afraid it would slow the story down too much, but I wanted a good scene between Harry&Hermione in, and I needed talk about tolerance, etc., to set the stage for the sequel. Heh, so you're Ravenclaw through and through, eh? Thoroughly wonderful; I've always seen Ravenclaws as in love with learning and knowledge, and therefore the wisest of all the Houses (except for Hufflepuff. We're under-rated, but we are indeed powerful!). As for myself, yeah, I'm powerfully loyal. It's my defining trait; as is my laziness. Heh. I'm practically Slytherin in my propensity to get others to do my work for me, or slither out of it altogether; and I have the Gryffindor connection through my busy Hermione-hair. Seriously. It's almost a 'fro.
Coriel - Thanks so much for your encouragement! And hm, I'd never even thought of having that scene in between Snape and Hermione. D'oh! It would have been truly perfect, too! Ah well, another fic, perhaps. I hope you enjoy this latest chapter as well!