I Dance Ballet
Summary: Remus happens to find Severus drinking, which stirs up an interesting conversation…
Severus Snape hated weekly Death Eater meetings, but knew he couldn't skip them. Most of the time, it was someone else being punished by the Dark Lord for not providing satisfactory results on whatever their mission had been that past week. But once in a while, Voldemort turned his anger towards Severus. When it did, it reminded him why he had become spy for Dumbledore.
In fact, Severus Snape had just come back from a meeting, feeling rather sore after several rounds of the torture curse from Voldemort. Feeling grumpy, he decided not to go to Madame Pomfrey. She would find nothing wrong with him.
Muttering to himself about secret keepers and hidden bases, Severus began to look around his quarters for something. Finally, he gave up. Apparently he'd finished it off last time.
With an unhappy sigh, Severus began to walk to the kitchens. Tickling the pear (he had to fight hard not to scratch it instead), he stepped through the door, finally content that he was going to get what he'd been looking for in his chambers—
And scowled when he saw one of the people he hated most in the entire world.
The man smiled pleasantly. "Good evening, Severus," said the brown-haired man.
"Lupin. I'm not in the mood for your false politeness, so leave me be," snapped Severus. He then turned to a house elf and murmured quietly what he wanted. The elf nodded, and scurried off to find it.
"What brings you down here, Severus?" asked Remus.
"Sod off." He took the glass bottle from the elf, and poured some of the dark liquid into a cup. Downing the contents at once, he poured it again.
"Firewhisky? Severus, you have a class tomorrow…" scolded Remus quietly.
"I don't care," replied Severus, taking another large gulp. As an afterthought, he added, "And stop talking to me."
"Severus… why do you dislike me?" asked Remus. Severus raised an eyebrow.
"I should think," here he paused for another drink, "that it would be perfectly obvious."
"Perhaps to you…" answered Remus. "But, over the years, I have done my best to be polite, and tried to rid you of your grudge…"
"Grudge? I do not have a grudge. I simply hate you," said Severus. Remus worried about the way his speech was beginning to become slurred.
"I see…" murmured Remus. "Why would that be?"
"You're a Gryffindor, a werewolf, and you're irritating," answered Severus. Remus knew that wasn't the answer he would get from Severus if the black-haired man was entirely sober…
"Severus… exactly how much have you had to drink?" asked Remus.
"Dunno. Don't care. Why do you? I hate you. You hate me."
"I don't hate you," objected Remus. Severus snorted.
"And I dance ballet." The words were dripping with sarcasm, but Remus couldn't help but laugh at the image.
"I'm being serious, Severus," said Remus. "I don't hate you."
"It certainly seemed that way when we were in school," muttered Severus.
Remus sighed. If the Potions master was still bitter about their school days—when Remus's friends had mercilessly bullied him, then they might never set aside their differences.
"I never participated, Severus," Remus reminded him.
"You never tried to stop it," countered Severus, abandoning the cup and drinking straight from the bottle.
"I was afraid they would think me a coward if I objected. I was afraid that they would abandon me, since I'm a werewolf," Remus told him quietly.
"Do you regret it?" asked Severus, and Remus marvelled at how well the man was controlling himself. If Remus had drank almost an entire bottle of Firewhisky in one sitting, he would be drunker than hell. But here Severus was, still thinking rationally, his voice only slightly slurred. The only affect alcohol had on him was to make him more open to talking.
"Yes," admitted Remus. "Yes, I do." This seemed to satisfy the Potions master. He sat back in his chair, and reached for the bottle.
"Empty," sighed Severus. Despite his rational mind, it seemed that alcohol affected his body much more. He dropped it, and it broke. Several pieces of glass were embedded deep in his skin.
Severus hadn't flinched. He merely stared at the glass in his hand. "Ouch," he said calmly, as if he had just told Remus that the sky was blue.
"Come here," said Remus. Severus shook his head.
"I'm fine." Remus was about to protest, but he was spared any further comments.
Severus promptly passed out.
Severus Snape woke up in the Hospital Wing, with a splitting headache and a bandage around his hand. He wondered why he was there, before remembering the night before.
The Dark Lord's punishment, the talk with Lupin, breaking the bottle…
He groaned, and Madame Pomfrey came into view.
"Tsk. You shouldn't have had so much to drink, Severus," scolded the medi-witch. "Here." She gave him an awful tasting potion, but he ignored it. Instantly the headache was reduced to a dull ache, and he stood up.
He thanked her quickly, and left before she could say otherwise. As he was walking down the hall, Remus fell into step beside him.
"Your classes start in an hour," said Remus.
"I'm well aware of that, Lupin," answered Severus calmly. Remus glanced over at him. If he felt any embarrassment about the previous night, he didn't show it.
"So, do you still consider yourself my enemy?" asked Remus mildly. He didn't dare hope that one night's conversation with the man had resolved all of their differences.
After a pause, Severus answered, "You are most certainly not my friend." Remus smiled. This was definitely an improvement to the simple "I hate you" that he had been given before.
"But you don't hate me?"
"I'm quite unwilling to be your friend," snapped Severus, and slammed the door to his classroom in the werewolf's face.
Remus opened it, and leaned against the wall. "You're avoiding the question. Do you hate me?"
"…Please remove yourself from my classroom," said Severus, seating himself at his desk in the front of the classroom. "I have a class to prepare for." Remus decided to take a chance.
"Since you're not answering me, I guess I will have to assume that it means you think I'm dreadfully sexy," said Remus, smirking at the black-haired man. The next instant he felt something collide with his head. It didn't hurt—it was merely a crumpled piece of parchment.
"Be thankful that wasn't a bottle full of Longbottom's latest potion," snapped Severus.
"Are you aware that that was extremely childish?" asked Remus, trying not to laugh.
"Yes. Now get out!"
"After you answer the question," persisted Remus. Severus did not pause in his work, and he didn't look up at the former Gryffindor.
"No."
"What?"
"No. I don't hate you," said Severus calmly, still not looking up.
"Oh." Suddenly Remus was not sure how to respond. He had gotten his answer, but what to do now?
"…But if you don't leave my classroom this instant you will find yourself missing a limb very soon," hissed Severus, and Remus chuckled.
"Well, thank you for your time." said Remus. "Oh, and by the way—I know that you secretly dance ballet." Finally Severus looked up, a puzzled expression on his pale face.
"What? I could have sworn you just said that I secretly dance ballet," said Severus.
"Yes. That's what I said. Have a nice day, Severus!" With that, Remus was on his way down the hall.
He had his own class to teach.
By: Skysong2293