Chapter 5: Returning
A/N: This chapter falls between chapters 31 and 32 in For Tomorrow We May Die.
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Monday, 26 August"Do you have any idea how much longer it's going to be?" It was already a quarter past ten and his appointment had been scheduled for nine; Remus was beginning to run short on patience.
"I really don't," the receptionist replied, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. It's been a busy morning and Lara is running a bit behind."
"Can you look at your appointments and tell who's in there now, and when he was supposed to have seen her?""
"Really, Remus, she's working as quickly as she can. Just have a seat and I'll call you as soon as she's ready to see you." That, obviously, was the end of the conversation. The receptionist slid her window shut and Remus had little choice other than to turn back into the waiting room and settle into one of the chairs again. He peered at his watch again and sighed.
"Our appointment was at eight, and my Edward just went back," came a soft voice beside him. He opened his eyes and looked at the woman who'd spoken. His first impression of her was that she looked frail and exhausted, her eyes sunken and rimmed with dark circles, her face ashen and peaked. She was woefully thin, and there were permanent worry lines around her mouth and between her eyes. It took him a moment to get past how horribly tired she looked and to realize that her hair was dark brown, though frosted with silver, and her eyes were blue.
"Thank you," he muttered, frowning slightly. Edward was the name of the seven-year-old boy he'd heard Lara talking to the night they were all penned up.
She nodded, carefully shifting a sleeping child to a more comfortable position. As she moved, she knocked her handbag to the floor, and a book fell out of it.
"No, I'll get it for you," Remus offered, holding up a hand as she moved to pick up her belongings. He crouched and picked up the handbag and book and placed them both on the chair beside her. "You look like you have your hands full, and he looks entirely too comfortable to be disturbed."
She smiled a bit. "Thank you," she said quietly.
"Not at all," he responded. Remus watched for a moment as she cradled the child in her arms, and he felt a momentary pang of longing. It had been far too long since he'd had anyone to hold, or to hold him, and though he was usually content enough, the last week had left him wishing desperately for human contact. He would have been content to be either the child or the one holding the child at that moment.
"How did Edward fare last week?" Remus asked finally, and a hollow look crossed the woman's eyes.
"I think he fared better than I did," she murmured, hugging the other child more tightly. "He slept for two days, and by the weekend he was playing as though nothing had happened. Maybe… maybe it wasn't so bad as I thought it looked?"
She sounded so hopeful that he was almost tempted to reassure her that it hadn't been that bad at all. But it had been. And it was worrisome that a child did not seem affected by it. Remus looked away and sighed quietly. "Perhaps he doesn't want you worrying about him," Remus suggested softly.
From the corner of his eye, he could see the woman nodding. "He's very much like his father was in that sense," she whispered. "He never wanted me to worry either."
"I don't think we ever want those around us to worry."
"I know," she replied. "But I wish I'd had a bit more of an idea what all I needed to be worried about. It was something of a shock when he died and… I'm sorry. I wasn't intending to start telling you my life story. I'm just worried about my Edward."
Remus smiled. "It's quite all right," he assured her. "How long has your husband been gone?"
"Three years," she murmured. She took a deep breath. "He died trying to save Edward."
Remus found a sudden interest in his feet. "I'm sorry," he said softly.
She shrugged a bit. "I didn't even know what bills we had to pay," she said with a slight laugh. "All I'd ever done was the shopping, and he would just hand me some money and I'd buy what we needed. It never occurred to me that there was so much involved in…"
"Mrs. Murphy?"
Lara's voice interrupted the story and the frail woman looked up. "Yes?"
"Can you come back with me please? I'm having a bit of a hard time with Edward."
The woman sighed quietly. "Of course," she said, then turned to Remus again. "I'm sorry to unload my worries on you."
"That's quite all right," Remus replied, standing. "I'll listen again the next time you want to talk."
She offered a weak smile, then followed Lara through the doors, and Remus was left to ponder the pattern in the carpet again and to wish he'd remembered to bring along a book. The only reading material the Ministry provided was bound copies of the Werewolf Code of Conduct, and he was tired of reading that particular document.
Minutes ticked by, and Remus looked around the room, studying the small groups of people. There was another man roughly his own age in one corner, staring listlessly at the wall. Another man, this one substantially younger, sat several chairs down. A pretty young woman with flame-red hair was reading a magazine and looking at her watch every so often. There were three young women in another corner, all talking softly, their eyes on five children who were playing in the floor at their feet. It was impossible to tell who was a werewolf and who was not, and after another ten minutes of waiting, Remus set to trying to amuse himself by speculating.
The young women with the children were not, he suspected, and he found himself hoping that none of the children were. He had a sinking suspicion, however, that at least one of those youngsters was, indeed. The woman reading the magazine was not; he was sure of that. She looked too settled and well-adjusted. The man his own age probably was, and the younger man as well.
One of the doors opened and an elderly man came out. The red-haired woman dropped her magazine into her handbag and met the elderly man halfway across the room, spoke softly with a gray-haired and bespectacled man, then led the elderly man out. Her father, perhaps.
"Nicholas?" The middle-aged man who had led out the elderly man was peering over the top of his glasses at the youth. They disappeared behind the door, and a few minutes later, a brisk-looking woman with black hair and a stern expression led a young woman into the waiting room. The man who had been staring listlessly at the wall stood and reached for her hand, though neither of them looked at each other. Slowly, those who had been in the waiting room were either called back or left when someone else was brought back out until the only ones left were one of the young mothers and Remus.
The outer door opened again and another young woman walked in, leading another elderly man whom she guided to a chair before approaching the receptionist's window. She spoke in a low voice for a minute, but soon her voice was raised until Remus couldn't help overhear.
"What do you mean it will be a while? How long is a while? Our appointment is at eleven, and I don't have all day for this."
"I'm terribly sorry, ma'am, but they're running a bit behind today. If you'll just take a seat, they'll be with you as soon as…"
"How long is a while?"
"Two hours at least," Remus replied, even though he wasn't part of the conversation. The receptionist shot him a dirty look, but he ignored it.
"Two hours?" the woman repeated, then glared at the receptionist again. "That's outrageous!"
"They're doing the best they can, ma'am. Now, please, just take a seat and they'll call you as soon as they're ready for you." The window slammed shut again, and the woman took a deep breath.
"This is the most ridiculous… No, Dad, you stay there. I'll go find you some tea or something." The man had been in the process of rising but she pressed him firmly back into his chair and disappeared again. Remus watched as the old man stared forlornly at the wall, not moving. After a bit, the woman came back in again and pressed a cup into her father's hands. "Drink that," she told him firmly, then looked around and picked up a copy of the Code of Conduct. She flipped through it for a moment, her lips pursed, then dropped it again. "Is that thick thing really the Werewolf Code of Conduct?" she asked Remus, coming to sit across from him.
"Yes," he replied, watching her father.
"I'm Cynthia," she said, offering a hand, which he took after a moment. "Cynthia Reynolds."
"Remus Lupin," he replied, a bit bemused.
"Are you a werewolf?" she asked bluntly, and he nodded. "Mind if I sit?"
"Be my guest," he replied, gesturing to the chairs. She chose the one to his left and turned to face him.
"I just found out that my grandfather is a werewolf, and has been for some time. He apparently didn't think it worth mentioning to anyone. What are we going to expect?" she asked.
Remus raised an eyebrow. "I really have no idea what to expect given the circumstances," he replied after a moment. "I was a very young child when I went through the registry process, and I don't honestly remember much about it. I doubt it will be pleasant, but…" he trailed off a bit. "How long has he been…?"
"I don't know," she replied, looking at him with a contemplative frown on her face. "My uncle found him chained in the basement of his house last week and after three hours of prodding he admitted that he'd been containing himself like that to keep from being a danger to anyone."
Remus cringed inwardly.
"He said he was afraid they'd kill him if they found out he was a werewolf."
"Who?"
"I don't know. He's barely lucid half the time anyway. We've all been trying to figure out how long he's been doing this, but it's hard, you know? No one pays much attention to when the moon is full, so trying to work out the last time we saw him during a full moon is almost impossible."
"You might try checking holidays," Remus suggested. "You're more likely to remember a Christmas full moon than a full moon in the middle of July."
Cynthia made a note in the book she was carrying. "We'll try that, thank you," she said. "What else can you tell me?"
Remus picked up the Code of Conduct lying on the table nearest him. "Read this," he suggested. "Carefully. Cover to cover, and then read it again. Depending on what the dynamic of the Ministry is, the attitude towards werewolves ranges from pity to persecution and all points between. And be prepared for inhuman treatment."
"Inhuman," she repeated.
"Quite at times."
"Wonderful. They aren't really going to kill him, are they?"
"Only if he bites someone and it can be proven he did it. Otherwise, he falls under most of the same laws and governing principles as any other wizard."
"Remus Lupin?" An unfamiliar voice called, and Remus looked up. A woman with brown hair pulled back from her face was standing at the door, looking around the room expectantly.
"I have to go," Remus told Cynthia while scribbling frantically at a piece of parchment he'd produced from his briefcase. "If you have any other questions or if you need anything, here's how to get in touch with me. Good luck." He stood and picked up his briefcase and followed the woman who had called him into an office two doors further down the hall than Lara's office was.
As she ushered him inside, he looked around; it was tidier than Lara's office, and less cramped, though the layout was largely the same—bookshelves along one wall, desk with a chair behind it and three arrayed in front, a file cabinet in the corner and a scale occupying the back of the room.
"Have a seat," the woman said, picking up a folder and skimming through it. "I'm Deborah Eaton, and…" she trailed off, frowning a bit. She looked at him, then at the folder again. "And if you're fifteen years old, I'll eat my hat." She shut the folder and peered at it, then sighed. "Wrong folder. Give me just a minute. I don't suppose you know your case number off hand, do you?"
"33795009," he replied, almost without thinking.
Deborah was nodding, scribbling the number as he recited it. "I'll be right back." She disappeared, giving him a minute to look around the office, but there was nothing to look at. It was very sparse. True to her word, she returned only a moment later, and settled behind the desk again. "Sorry about that," she said. "Now, as I was saying, I'm Deborah, and I'm just stepping in to help Lara today. She got caught up in an unexpected meeting and… well, I'm sure you can see that she's behind today. Let's see…" She was flipping through the folder now, and paused. "I guess we'll need to get your weight and… no. You've already done that, haven't you?"
She shoved a hand through her hair and squinted at the parchment. "We don't seem to have an address in file for you," she said finally. "Can we correct that oversight?"
Remus sighed quietly. "I don't have a permanent address," he told her, slowly and distinctly. "I can be reached through Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts."
Deborah frowned at him, then turned around, reaching for a folder. "I'm going to give you some information to look over," she said, selecting several leaflets and placing them on the desk. "The Ministry maintains several public housing units, and three of them are particularly suited for the needs of werewolves. They provide…"
"Complimentary transportation and reminders about the full moon," Remus finished for her. "Lara already told me, and I told her that I do not need the Ministry's charity."
Deborah raised an eyebrow. "All right," she said. "Then we won't discuss the public housing units. How are you feeling after last week's transformation, Remus?"
"Tired," he replied truthfully. "And irritated, though a good part of that might have to do with the two hour wait this morning. If I were two hours late for one of these meetings, I doubt you would all be expected to take it in stride."
"Lara did make a note in here that you are prone to belligerence," Deborah commented softly, tapping her quill against the page she was studying.
"If belligerence means a dogged insistence on being treated with the same respect anyone else would expect, then yes, I suppose I am belligerent."
"I am very sorry about the wait this morning, Remus, but we have been quite busy and…"
"And it's just as well that I don't have a job, given that this is precisely the kind of nonsense that wouldn't go over well with employers. Does it occur to you that perhaps there are others who are busy as well?"
Deborah slammed the folder shut and folded her hands atop it. "What do you want me to say?" she asked.
"How about an explanation that doesn't imply that your time is more important than mine?" he suggested.
"Fine. You want an explanation? Do you know how many werewolves there are in the United Kingdom?"
"No," he replied, "and I don't see how that's important."
"Two hundred thirty eight," she answered promptly. "That's registered werewolves. Do you know how many bites were reported this past month alone?"
"No."
"Forty seven," she told him. "Do you know how many case workers there are in the Ministry?"
"No."
"Four. Do you know how many times we are supposed to meet with every single werewolf every single month?"
He was beginning to get the idea. "Twice?" he guessed.
"Well, that's what we're attempting. Minister Davis wants four time a month. Weekly appointments. And he doesn't see why we can't be expected to see eight per day."
Remus looked at her levelly. "So far, I've had two of these appointments," he said bluntly. "Both lasted less than an hour. Why is eight a day so unreasonable?"
"It wouldn't be if all of them lasted an hour," she replied. "It takes close to three hours to register a new werewolf, though, and only about an hour of that can be done without him present."
Remus felt a measure of his anger being directed away from Deborah and Lara and towards Davis for expecting what appeared to be the impossible. "Then Lara has been registering new werewolves," he said. "You know, it would have been easier to accept had this explanation been offered earlier. And I know I'm not the only one who would have appreciated being told to expect a two hour delay."
"We register new werewolves between eleven and one," Deborah replied. "Lara has been otherwise occupied."
Remus sighed heavily. "Forget it," he muttered. "Why am I here this time?"
"Just a few questions here. First and foremost, we like to have our werewolves thinking ahead about the next full moon, so I'm going to ask you to consider your options. I see that this past month you gave yourself over for protective custody. That was a wise move, Remus. Are you planning to do that again this month?"
"No," he answered succinctly. "I will be taking the Wolfsbane this month."
"Splendid!" Deborah announced, reaching for another folder. "And who is your brewer?"
For a moment, Remus hesitated. How was Severus going to react to his giving the Ministry his name?
"Why do you need to know?"
"Because, Remus, we must make sure that it is a qualified brewer. There are many unscrupulous wizards and witches who would take advantage of the unsuspecting werewolf and try to sell an inferior and ineffective product."
"And if I choose not to tell you?"
Deborah sighed. "If you do not tell me, I'm afraid I won't be able to verify that you are on a regular regimen of the potion, which means that you will be listed as non-compliant for the month of September unless you turn yourself into protective custody."
"Non-compliant?" he asked. "I thought that was voluntary?"
"Oh, it is," she assured him. "It's entirely voluntary. However, we do keep record, of course, and werewolves with a history of non-compliance are certainly under additional scrutiny, particularly if there are bites reported during a full moon period."
He stared at her blankly. "So you're telling me that if I do not turn myself in for protective custody every month that I am liable to be accused for any bites that take place?"
"Well, let's just say you'd be under more meticulous scrutiny."
"I don't believe this. Then what good does it do to take the potion?"
"Oh, no, Remus, if you are on a regimen of Wolfsbane, then you certainly escape the scrutiny. So you see? There is a benefit to telling me who your brewer is so we can check his or her credentials."
"And when I give you his name, what will you do with it?"
"Well, if he's already on our list of approved brewers, then that is that. If he isn't, we'll do a bit of digging into his qualifications, and if they prove satisfactory, we'll approach him to see if he would be interested in contract work for the Ministry. Regardless, we'll get him registered on our approved list. He won't be harassed, if that's what you're concerned about."
"I'll speak with him about it this evening and…"
"Remus, it takes time to get even an accomplished Potions Master approved for the brewing of the Wolfsbane. If you intend this to be your method of managing the lycanthropy this month, then we need to get the paperwork started immediately. After all, you'll need to begin taking it two weeks from tomorrow, and a week of that time will be taken up with the owl post, I'm sure. Now, just give me his name so I can get everything started."
Remus massaged the bridge of his nose. He had a sinking suspicion that Severus would not be pleased if he gave his name.
"Come on, Remus. If he's a reputable brewer, he'll have no objections, will he?"
That certainly sounded reasonable enough, but reasonable didn't always apply to this particular Potions Master. Remus sighed quietly, though, and resigned himself to his fate. "Severus Snape," he said finally.
"Snape… That name sounds familiar. Maybe he's already one of our approved brewers. Is he a reputable Potioner, do you know?"
"He's a Master," Remus replied.
"Oh, that does bode well then. All the Potions Masters in the UK were sent the paperwork already. Let me just go check our records. In the mean time, I'm going to give you this to look over. It's just a bit of information about the Wolfsbane potion. I'll be right back." She stepped briskly out of the office, leaving the door partially ajar, and Remus peered at the page she'd left him. It turned out to be nothing he didn't already know.
A few moments later, Deborah reemerged into the office, shaking her head. "I'm afraid that Master Snape is not an approved brewer. I made a list of the approved brewers, though, so perhaps you'd like to contact one of them and…"
"What do you mean he isn't approved?" Remus asked testily. "He is an accomplished Potions Master and…"
"And he very adamantly declined our offer to register him as an approved brewer of the potion. In fact, he has repeatedly declined Ministry offers to approve him for the brewing of a number of substances."
"I don't believe this."
"Now, there's an Albert Vibbard here, and he's quite accomplished. Or here's a Norman Sommersby. Or…"
"Severus Snape is providing the potion for me," Remus said bluntly. "He has already agreed to it, and we have already made all the arrangements."
"Hmm," Deborah said, frowning a bit. "Then perhaps you can convince him to register himself as an approved brewer. I'm going to go ahead and give you the paperwork for it, Remus, and you take this to him and have him fill it out—but not sign it! He'll need to come in and sign in front of witnesses." She handed him a thick folder, and Remus closed his eyes, already imagining what Severus' reaction was going to be. He could very clearly see the parchments in it being upended into the lake. It was one thing for Severus to agree to brew the potion, or to agree to restore a bit of the mutual understanding they had. It was another thing entirely to expect him to register himself with the Ministry.
"I'm also giving you this list of brewers in case Master Snape refuses. You'll want to contact them as soon as possible to make arrangements, though, because the potion takes a week to brew."
Remus knew it did not take a week to brew, but he didn't contradict her.
"And I want you to think about the public housing units. Now, I'm going to go ahead and schedule you an appointment for Monday, the ninth of September at two in the afternoon, and that appointment will be with Lara," she continued, writing the appointment information on a slip of parchment. "And really, Remus, if Master Snape doesn't sign the agreement, seek out one of these others. They're all approved, and the Ministry has capped the price on the potion, so it won't be over-priced. And if Master Snape won't agree to the registry, you just request your fee back from him, and if he refuses, you report it to Lara and she will see to it."
Remus shook his head, exhaling a sharp snort of laughter. Trying to talk to these people was like beating his head against a brick wall.
"Thank you, Deborah," he said finally.
"You have a lovely afternoon, Remus," she said brightly, ushering him out of the office and down the corridor. "And we'll see you back again in two weeks."
"I'm sure I'm looking forward to it," he muttered as he stalked out into the reception room and exited the department.
For the second time in four days, Remus found himself standing in the dungeons at Hogwarts, dread welling inside him as he imagined how Severus would react to this latest request.
"Just knock on the door and ask him," he told himself firmly. "The last one didn't go as badly as you'd thought it would." And it was really just an extension of that same request, after all. If only Severus hadn't already refused the request once, the situation might seem a little less hopeless.
After a few more minutes of staring at the door, Remus finally knocked. The door swung open and Severus looked up from his desk. "Remus," he said, his voice carrying a note of surprise. "I wasn't expecting you."
"I wasn't expecting to be here," Remus replied. "Have a minute?"
"Not really, but if you won't be offended if I keep working on this list, I can do two things at once."
"Fair enough," Remus replied, but his mind was screaming at him. This was a bad start.
"Have a seat," Severus said, gesturing at the chairs in front of his desk, plying quill to parchment again.
"I know you're busy, so I'll get to the point," Remus said as he seated himself. "I just returned from the Ministry and they won't be satisfied with my taking the Wolfsbane unless you're an approved brewer and apparently you refused to register as a brewer so I'm asking you to reconsider." His words all came out in a jumbled rush, and Severus paused in his writing for a moment.
"Absolutely not," he replied.
"Severus, please. If I don't take the Wolfsbane, I have to…"
"I told you I'd brew the potion for you. Isn't that enough?" He made a few frantic scribbles on the parchment, his lips pursed and his brow creased with a frown.
"It would be more than enough for me, but the Ministry…"
"The Ministry can shove off," Severus said succinctly. "I am not a brewer for the Minister of Magic and I will not be a brewer for the Ministry of Magic."
"I'm not asking you to. I'm just asking you to register with them so they'll put your name on their damned list so…"
"Do you know what you're asking of me, Remus?" Severus asked softly, putting his quill down.
A little cooperation? Remus thought snidely, but shook his head. "No, I didn't read the documentation. I assumed it was private."
"Well, I did read the documentation when they sent it to me the first time," Severus replied, folding his hands atop the parchment. "They want me to donate a hundred and fifty doses of the potion at least once every three months. They also want me to sign an agreement stating that werewolves can contact me to brew that crap, and they dictate how much I can charge for it, and that's the part I object to. That they also wanted to run a positively insulting check on my credentials was irritating enough to prompt my response to them, but then they had the audacity to suggest that it was my civic responsibility to sign those documents. I'm not signing them, Remus. I simply refuse. I'll brew the potion for you, and if they want six samples of it to test my competency, I suppose I can provide that, and if anyone were to ask nicely, I'd probably donate a couple of cauldrons of it a month if they'd reimburse me the cost of the ingredients, but I will be damned if I'm going to be the Ministry's lap dog, and I am not going to let them dictate how much my time and expertise are worth."
Remus shoved his hand through his hair and closed his eyes. He couldn't say he really blamed Severus, but he had hoped this would go more favorably.
"Besides, why do they need to approve a list of brewers?" Severus asked, picking up his quill again.
"Some bullshit line about preventing fraud. Unscrupulous brewers charging exorbitant prices for inferior potions or something to that effect."
Severus sneered at his parchment. "I might be offended by that if I didn't know how often it happens," he muttered. "But I have a certificate on that wall over there that Millicent Bagnold signed stating that if I charge exorbitant fees at least it is for superior products, and that should bloody well be good enough for Marius Davis."
"Is the Ministry's price cap… is it insultingly low?"
Severus glanced up at him and shrugged. "I can't say I know what other Potions Masters charge for their time and effort. I don't want to be bothered with contract brewing, so I charge outrageous fees to discourage people from asking." He jabbed his quill into the inkpot again. "The potions I brew around here are voluntary. How much are the others charging?"
"Twenty galleons for a month's supply."
"The ingredients are probably worth three," Severus informed him. "No, I don't think it's insultingly low. It's a complex potion, but not terribly time consuming." Quill scratched at parchment for a moment, then Severus paused in his writing and looked up. "What happens if I'm not an 'approved' brewer?"
Remus avoided his eyes. "The Ministry doesn't acknowledge that I took the potion, and I'm considered 'non-compliant' for the month."
"And what does that mean?"
"I'm automatically a suspect in any bite. Unless, of course, I turn myself in to protective custody again." He hadn't considered the possibility that he would be spending any more time in one of those cells, but he was slowly beginning to accept that it was inevitable.
Severus sighed softly and extended a hand. "Let me see those documents," he muttered. Remus placed the folder in his hand, scarcely daring to believe that Severus was even considering it. Severus spread the folder on his desk and looked at the first page, then the second and third. After the fourth, he quit reading and thumbed through the pages, then scowled. "Forty-seven pages," he muttered. "And it looks like thirty of them require me to fill something out."
"I'm not even asking anymore, Severus. I didn't realize what all it entailed."
"I'm thinking about it," Severus answered. "And I want you to know that I must either be out of my mind or consider you a very good friend to even be thinking about it. Is there no other alternative?"
Remus shook his head. "I either take the potion or turn myself in. Non-compliance isn't really an option."
Severus rubbed his temples and looked at the first page again. "There are others who are approved and who will brew it, though, correct?"
Remus looked away. "I can't afford it," he said quietly. "You know that."
"I can," Severus said. "I'll pay for it."
"Severus, I can't ask you to…"
"You aren't asking. I'm offering. Really, Remus, I'd rather pay the twenty galleons a month than sign these papers."
Remus stood and folded his arms across his chest. Twenty galleons was almost a fourth of what he'd made in a month when he was teaching, and he had to admit that it dug at his pride to know that Severus could toss aside that sum so casually. "But wouldn't you rather be making the twenty galleons than paying it?" he asked. "And it isn't as though there are many werewolves who could afford that anyway."
There was a sound of wood scraping against stone, and a moment later Remus felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Let me pay for your potion this month," Severus said quietly. "And that buys me a month to think about it."
"I don't want you buying that potion for me," Remus whispered. Severus squeezed his shoulder lightly.
"Then let me lend you the money for it. You can pay me back, with interest if you like. Just give me a month to think it over and to look into all the details."
"I don't want your money!"
"For fucks' sake, Remus! It's no more than I'd spend on a bottle of cognac!"
"Then save your money and buy an extra bottle!" Remus shot back.
Severus stalked back to his desk. "What, precisely, is the difference between asking me to brew the potion for you and letting me procure it in another manner?"
"Because if you brew it, you're only spending three galleons and if you buy it you're spending twenty!"
"I don't care about the money," Severus muttered, jerking the cap off his ink bottle again.
"I care," Remus replied. "I don't want to be beholden to you for that kind of…"
"Goddamn it, Remus, will you stop with that?" Severus hurled his teacup against the door, and it shattered in a spray of hot liquid and porcelain. The tea dripped down the wall and puddled on the floor, and Remus stared at it for a moment, watching the tawny liquid fill a crack in the stone. Fool, he cursed himself. What did you expect? That you'd walk in here and he'd assure you that he'd be more than happy to do something he's already made clear he doesn't want to do?
Remus looked at the broken cup for a minute, then took out his wand and pointed it at the mess. "Reparo," he murmured softly, and the cup knitted itself back together. He placed it on Severus' desk. "I'm sorry I asked," he said stiffly, walking towards the door again.
"Get back in here," Severus ordered.
"Why?"
"We haven't settled this matter. I need to know what you intend to do."
"I'm going to turn myself into protective custody again, Severus, because I'm not stupid enough to leave myself open to accusations if there are bites! So don't bother making the potion."
"But I thought the transformation was easier…"
"It is!" Remus snapped. "But I also retain my own mind, and at least the transformation is twelve hours I don't have to be aware of… Forget it. Just don't make the damn potion."
Severus leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "Why won't you let me buy it for you?" he asked. "It would make this so much easier."
"Because I don't want you spending that kind of money on this! It's bad enough that I have to come here and beg you to brew it."
"I have never made you beg me for it," Severus said quietly.
"Then ask for it."
Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head slightly. "Listen to me you idiot," he said very distinctly. "I am not in the business of reading tea leaves to determine who wants what potion from me. If you want it, tell me and I will brew it. It isn't a matter of pride, it's a matter of consideration."
"You know that I need it every month," Remus replied defensively.
"And you just told me not to brew it this month. Make up your damn mind."
Remus folded his arms and stared at the floor. "I want you to sign those damn papers so that it will make a difference if I take the potion," he said quietly. "But if you don't want to, that's fine. I'll do what I have to do, regardless."
Severus stood and moved around the desk, leaning against it, his arms folded as well. "I told you I will look over those papers, but I don't want to rush headlong into signing anything from the Ministry until I have read it twice at least. And then I want Dumbledore to read it, and then I want Minerva to read it, just to make sure I haven't missed anything, and then I want to talk to a few other brewers and find out what they think about it. And I can't do that kind of research in two weeks, Remus. I'm not agreeing to anything with the Ministry of Magic unless I know what I'm agreeing to."
"Fine," Remus said, not quite keeping the bitterness from his voice. He understood Severus' reticence, but it still wasn't what he wanted to hear. "If you decide to sign the agreement, let me know and I'll come and humbly ask you to mix the potion."
"In the mean time," Severus continued as though Remus hadn't spoken, "I'd like to offer to purchase the potion for you from another reputable brewer. If you'll give me the list, I'll approach someone for you, and I'll handle the transaction. I will hand deliver the bottles to you if you like. Call it a professional courtesy, call it an attempt to make up for the inconvenience I'm causing you. Call it a friend who doesn't want to see you in that cell again. I want you to have the potion this month, and I want you to have it from someone whom the Ministry recognizes as an approved supplier or whatever it is that they're calling it."
Remus looked away. "You don't understand."
"Then explain it to me."
"I don't want the charity, Severus. I don't want you—or anyone else—to give me handouts. It's already a trick to convince myself that I'm not living off the benevolence of Albus Dumbledore. I don't want my lycanthropy to be managed off the benevolence of Severus Snape."
"You needn't worry about that, then, because I'm not a benevolent man," Severus replied. Remus just scowled in return. "Besides, what's the difference between my brewing the potion and my procuring it from someone else? I still don't see that distinction."
Remus sighed, exasperated. "Because when I asked you to brew it for me I was asking a favor from a friend," he spat.
For a moment, Severus was quiet, then he asked, "And why do you think I'm offering to purchase the potion for you?"
Remus didn't reply.
"I'm asking you for a favor now," Severus continued. "I'm asking you for a month, two at the most, to research what I'm going to be getting myself into. I don't like surprises, particularly ones delivered by Ministry owls." He unfolded his arms and braced his hands against the edge of his desk. "And if you're adamant about this, I'll fill out the paperwork now, and I'll deliver it to the Ministry tomorrow, because I have no desire to know that you're sitting in a cell somewhere in the Ministry because I refused to take the steps to become an approved brewer. I'm asking you to allow me to buy myself some time to research the options."
Remus knew that Severus had a valid point, but it was difficult to look him in the eye and accept what he was being offered. "Do you have any idea what it's like to have to stand here and agree to this?"
"No," Severus replied. "But I think perhaps I can imagine."
"I will pay you back," Remus said quietly.
"If you insist," Severus answered.
"I do."
"Then don't be surprised if I donate the money to the Ministry's children's fund or some such."
Remus nodded and stared at the floor. "Thank you," he said quietly, his face burning with the heat of humiliation.
"Look at me, Remus," Severus said softly, and when Remus didn't look up immediately, he felt Severus' hands tilting his face upward. "Hold your head up," he whispered. "This is between you and me, and if anyone else knows it's because you choose to tell them."
Remus nodded, not trusting his voice. Severus pulled him closer and Remus leaned against him for a moment.
"You taught me that, you know," Severus whispered, rubbing his back. "That it's all right to accept help when someone offers it. That a friend is a more effective crutch than pride any day." Remus couldn't help but think that for a man who shied away from the most coincidental touch, Severus was doing a remarkable job of holding him. It was a bit awkward, but Remus needed the embrace as much as he needed the potion, and he knew it.
"I never thought I'd hear myself say this," Severus said after several minutes, "but do you know what you need more than anything else, Lupin?"
Remus forced himself to straighten and step away from the other wizard, but somehow he didn't feel much better suddenly. He felt raw, and cold, and acutely aware of a lump in his throat that hadn't been there a few minutes ago. "What?" he asked hoarsely, wrapping his arms around himself.
"A woman," Severus replied, his mouth half-quirked into a smile.
Remus snorted softly and smiled in spite of himself.
"Come here," Severus muttered, and reached for him again, and this time Remus relaxed in his arms.
A/N: All right, this is the first real test here. I've made a conscious decision about what goes into and what stays out of this story as opposed to For Tomorrow We May Die, and everything not directly related to the Ministry laws and Lupin belongs in the other one, I think. Therefore, most of the Snape/Lupin goodies are over there. To those who are reading both chronologically (which is why I'm posting where these chapters fall within the other story line) this should work fairly seamlessly. To those who are not reading both, I'm trusting you to just accept that Snape and Lupin had a falling out and then reconciled to a large extent. I CANNOT run that storyline in two places without miring down the overall plot.
However, if this is too disjointed, let me know and I can add some more overlap/explanation. I'm struggling to avoid having essentially the same story from two points of view, but I do think they can exist independently of one another. I need feedback if I'm not carving in the right place. Really I do.
duj, tall oaks, cecelle-- yes, you've all hit it right on the head-- the tables have turned and I'm not at all sure that Lupin is handling it as well as Severus did in the past.
duj-- that was PRECISELY what I was going for-- Lupin spent so much time whittling away the walls Severus had built for precisely that reason only to strike at him when he was defenseless then. ANd I don't think he has any concept of how badly that hurts, because I don't see Lupin as having ever had such a hard time trusting someone.
tall oaks-- Lupin is very raw right now, in my eyes. He has spent a lot of time in my fics being reasonable and practical and 'the rock' for everyone else, so it's hard for him to switch gears and lean on someone else.
cecelle-- very right about it being awkward, and the timing sucking. however, his intentions are true. they really are. He really did want to patch everything up with Severus. (of course, some of this was answered in TWMD, so you already know that).
Thanks for the comments, all, and thanks for reading whether you're leaving comments or not!
Jen