TW: SELF-HARM

The metal knife dropped with a resounding clang on the stone floors of the dungeon bathroom. A man sat slumped against a wall with both of his knees up, his hand right above the fresh wound. It wouldn't be long, he knew, until he saw her again.

As if on cue, a transparent ghost-like figure materialized in front of his eyes. She was a great beauty, with her vivid red hair that flowed down to her waist in breathtaking curls, shining emerald eyes filled with love and compassion that wasn't ever there in her lifetime, and translucent skin tone that positively glowed. With angel-like grace, she slowly made her way to him until she was an arms distance from him. Enough for him to touch if he was so inclined. One. Two. Three.

He looked up at the woman he loved. She reciprocated sadly, towering over him wordlessly. She looked as if she wanted to say something but she never did. He was happy she didn't. It would ruin it completely. A second later, she was lowering herself to the floor as to crouch down in front of him. He looked away- with great reluctance. He'd only ever allowed himself a few stolen moments, moments which weren't deserved in the least.

His head rolled back as he closed his eyes, savouring the burning sensation of his arm. The pain didn't faze him, though he knew it had to be there somehow. He only saw her when he was close to death.

It was only when he started feeling dizzy that he brought his wand up to heal his arm nonverbally. It was too risky to allow himself to blackout. Especially in these times. He looked up at her once more so that he'd be able to see as she'd leave him. With one last smile, she disappeared. He looked mournfully at the space which was now just that. Without her presence to distract him, the sting became unpleasant rather than comforting. It was always the after part that was the worst.

"Accio Blood Replenishing Potion." He stopped the vial from crashing into the wall above his head with his other arm and took it in one swig. No water to rid of the metallic aftertaste.

'Up, Snape,' he told himself, 'No time to waste.'

He made it to the sitting room before collapsing on his black wingbacked chair, his feet resting extended out on the matching ottoman chair.

A while later, a silvery figure shaped like a bird flew through the walls and appeared in front of him. His vision blurred at the edges, trying to make of the figure. A phoenix, he recalled vaguely. Pheonix...Albus Dumbledore...Order meeting. Shite. "SEVERUS, IF YOU COULD KINDLY MAKE YOUR WAY TO HEADQUARTERS, I'D BE GRATEFUL."

The Pheonix gave him a lecturing sort of look and vanished. "Grateful indeed," he muttered under his breath. He rolled his sleeve down, threw on some socks and shoes, combed his hair with his fingers, checked his breath (it was fine), and left the castle through a hidden passageway located nearby his quarters. 5 minutes later, he was entering Grimmauld Place.

"It's good of you to find the time to join us, Severus," Albus shot a dirty look at him. Severus cocked an eyebrow in response and took his seat. He did think of apologizing but decided against it. The Order would probably send him to a mental institution. Or check if he was imperio'd.

"Well, Headmaster, some of us have our priorities in check," Black snidely said.

"Yes, it must be hard having to prioritise attending one of these meetings -meetings which you are just here as a formality, really- and sitting on your arse over doing nothing, as usual. Poor you."

That was all it took to make Black spring out of his chair. Both men raised their wands, Black in a bigger hurry than Severus. "Enough! I'm sure Severus has a valid reason to be late, and Sirius is very crucial to our cause," Albus said in a placatory manner. Turning to Severus, Albus looked at him expectantly. 'Why Albus, I was too busy trying to kill myself.' That wouldn't go down too well, so Severus said, "I was in the middle of brewing."

"Always got your nose over a cauldron, don't you?"

Severus sighed irritatedly, "That is the concept of being a Potions Master, Black." And thus, the meeting begun. Instead of listening as he should have, Severus zone out, thinking about his research instead. He knew Albus would fill him in on anything that he needed to know later. He had less and less time for it these days but he would be damned if he let it fall completely to the side.

"...Earth to Severus?"

"Yes, Albus?"

The elderly Wizard sighed, "Would you be kind enough to work with Miss Lupin to provide the Wolfsbane Potion?"

"Miss...Lupin?" And sure enough, as he looked across the table, he met curious hazel eyes. Her hair wasn't the mousy-brown it was the last time he had seen her, but a dirty blonde now.

"She was only in her first year when we graduated," Lupin said, "I wouldn't expect you to remember her."

"I remember her vaguely, Wolf. I did teach her for 3 years, after all." A burning fire started in the depths of her eyes. Not a word she spoke, but the message was very clear. Touchy subject, he noted.

The truth was, he did remember Miss Lupin vividly- how could he not when she was possibly the best Potions student he'd ever had? She was a quiet girl who kept her head down. A good student, and a Ravenclaw at that as well.

Severus turned his attention back to the Headmaster. "Do I have a choice?"

"Thank you, Severus." Severus didn't remind the man that he never technically agreed to his inane request. It wasn't as if he actually had a choice in the matter.

After a long and uncomfortable dinner that Molly forced him to eat, Severus fled downstairs to the makeshift Potions Lab. It was a small space in the corner of the room, separated by an old dirty white curtain that was ripped in a couple of places. Inside had only one metal table. On three sides were shelves filled with vials of potion ingredients.

Severus set out the ingredients and started the flame with a sigh. It was bad enough that he had to continue brewing the potion, but he also was expected to 'work' with someone else? It didn't matter that she'd been a good -great, even- Potions student. That was years ago and she was probably out of practice. Even if she wasn't, he just didn't work with people.

He was about to add the crushed Aconite leaves into the cauldron when he felt a breeze that was created from the curtain opening. "Thank you so very much for informing me that you were starting," she sarcastically said. Her voice was made of dulcet and soft tones that wavered up and down at appropriate moments. He sighed and turned off the flame, vanishing the concoction. "Miss Lupin-"

"Lyra," she corrected.

"Miss Lupin, this is unnecessary. I will do this by myself and you do whatever the hell you want to as long as it doesn't interfere with me."

"And what if I wish to help you?"

"That is-"

"Look, Professor," she interrupted, lifting a hand flat up, "I'm not one to let others do all the work. That aside, this potion is for my brother. I think I have a right to be here." When he didn't look to be convinced, she changed strategies, "Think of all the time you could save if you showed me how to do it!"

He considered it. He could pawn the potion on her and problem solved. On the other hand, teaching her how to do it without poisoning her brother could take even more of his time. But, then again, Lupin dying would solve that problem. "Do you know anything about the potion?"

She shrugged, "Not really. I've researched it at length, but there's not much about it anywhere. I didn't dare try and attempt it."

"Let's get to work, then." Perhaps this wouldn't be too bad.