November passed. Severus still wasn't sleeping properly. Waking at three or four in the morning had become a regularity, and after going through every single one of his encounters with Lucius in minute detail, he had run out of distractions. Too tired now to read, he had taken to simply staring glassily out of the window until it was time to go down for breakfast. And he still had occasional but worrying thoughts about going down to the dungeon, opening his locked cabinet, taking out a phial of crushed opium poppy, and brewing himself something strong and gorgeous, something that would allow him to sleep through a whole Saturday if he needed to, to restore his strength. One night, noticing those thoughts returning again, he actually considered taking every single poison and narcotic out of the cabinet and smashing them in the fireplace, to stop himself being tempted. But he had been strong, for the last six years he had been strong. He would get through – with clenched knuckles, if need be.
Wearily he began to prepare the Wolfsbane for the full moon. Lupin, too, seemed to be looking increasingly unwell. When he saw him at mealtimes his eyes seemed constantly in shadow, and although he occasionally met Severus's eyes, there was no repeat of that long, challenging stare, he just gave him a small smile and looked away. He spent mealtimes talking quietly with McGonagall, Flitwick, or Dumbledore – not uncheerfully, he still smiled and seemed to make the odd joke – but he was clearly subdued, and exhausted. Maybe it wasn't only Severus who was enduring long, wakeful nights.
The night before the twenty-sixth, a Sunday which Severus spent almost entirely underground, his hair damp with steam in the heat of the dungeon, Lupin came down in the early evening, his hair a little ruffled. 'Forgive me being a bit unkempt,' he said, and suddenly gave an almighty yawn. 'I've just got out of bed, I was catching up on sleep a bit.'
'Isn't that what you're about to do for the next three days?' Severus retorted, bending over the worktable to adjust the heat under the cauldron.
He looked up from the flames in time to see Lupin smile. 'It's surprisingly unrestful, changing into a wolf in your sleep,' he said. 'It would be nice if it counted, but it doesn't.'
'Shame. I was almost envying you.' Straightaway he regretted saying it, and poked a glass stirring rod into the Wolfsbane, pretending to examine it intently.
But Lupin didn't make the obvious reproach, or pick up the hint about his insomnia. Instead he said, 'I was wondering something. Do you always call him the Dark Lord?'
Severus looked up sharply. 'What?'
'The staff meeting we had after Sirius broke in. You referred to Voldemort as the Dark Lord. I found it – surprising.'
'And do you always refer to him as Sirius?'
Lupin looked slightly taken aback. Then he said, 'Touché. Well, obviously you don't have to answer, I was just curious.'
Severus took a breath in. This, presumably, was what had prompted the staring contest at the staff meeting. Made sense: those Gryffindors were always such sticklers about the proper names for things. Then he said evenly, 'Yes, I do always refer to him as the Dark Lord. Is that a problem?'
'No. I'm sure you have very good reasons.'
'I do.' He said it with something like grim pride: the knowledge that he had stood in front of Voldemort many times, conversed with him, begun to deceive him, all without losing his nerve. (That bit had come later.) Lupin could never know what that was like.
'Sorry,' Lupin said, 'I was just – but I realise I don't –'
'Stop floundering,' Severus said, losing control of his irritation. 'You are overestimating how much I care what you might say to me.' He took a deep breath, keeping his head down, getting a grip on himself. He could sense Lupin waiting. 'It's not actually ready yet, the Wolfsbane. You are a bit earlier than I was expecting. I need another hour or so.'
'Oh, all right. Can I stay and watch, or would you rather I didn't?'
Severus managed not to snarl that Lupin would find a better welcome at the bottom of the Black Lake. Instead he took another breath, exhaled slowly, and spoke with control. 'As long as you let me concentrate.'
Lupin mimed zipping up his mouth, and sat down, smiling.
Severus rolled his eyes and gave the Wolfsbane another stir, another pinch of arrowroot it didn't really need. Then he began to clear up, dismantling the distiller with a few expert twists of the wrist and taking it over to the sink. As he washed each of the glass parts carefully, he tried to sense what Lupin was doing behind him, but all he could hear was the low bubbling of the Wolfsbane. When he took a very quick glance over his shoulder he saw Lupin sitting calmly, watching the simmering cauldron. He was, once again, impressed. Not that he imagined the werewolf had anything like his own capacity for sitting in stillness, in silence. But after all, few did, and Lupin was better at it than most.
'By the way,' he said, returning to the worktable, 'the coconut derivations are arriving tomorrow.'
'Oh, good,' Lupin said. 'I was going to ask you about that. Are these ingredients expensive?'
'Moderately.'
'It's just, if you make a better version but it costs more' – Lupin looked almost apologetic – 'I'm just wondering how far the Ministry will subsidise it. The money they give me isn't really enough as things stand.'
'How much?'
'Five Galleons a month.' Lupin smiled at Severus's look of disgust. 'I know. I haven't really bought any luxuries for the last year.'
Severus shook his head in exasperation. 'Even without the backup ingredients you need for if, or rather when, the lamination goes wrong, I'd say it's a fifteen-Galleon potion at least. There must be many people who simply can't afford to make it.'
'Undoubtedly,' Lupin said. 'Until I got this job, things were – well, I have to admit, there were a couple of times I did consider just finding a deserted mountain for the full moon instead of spending the money. But I decided that would be unethical.'
'Well,' Severus said, 'if I succeed in making a better version, I will go with you to the Ministry and plead the case for a greater subsidy.' He checked the Wolfsbane again. It had thickened, slightly ahead of schedule – it was already time to measure out the dose and add the acorn. He would be able to get Lupin out of his office and go straight to bed in the next fifteen minutes, if he so desired.
Lupin said nothing. When Severus glanced at him, he realised Lupin had gone slightly pink. 'What?'
'That's very kind of you, Severus.'
'Once again you misunderstand me,' Severus said, concentrating on filling his half-pint ladle precisely to the brim with the Wolfsbane, and pouring it into a glass goblet. If do I register a better version, I won't make a single Knut if no one can afford to make it.' He pulled the jar of acorns towards him, lifted a single one out with his silver tongs, and dropped it carefully into the goblet of liquid.
Lupin grinned. 'Good point. I should have known better. That looks good.' He nodded at the dose of Wolfsbane, which was already beginning to glow a silvery white.
Severus looked at it critically. 'It needs a few more minutes. It's a shame it looks so much nicer than it tastes.'
'I think I agree with you more on that than I've ever done about anything, ever,' Lupin said wryly. 'By the way – will you be coming to Dumbledore's Yule Party, or will you manage to get out of it somehow?'
Severus flickered an eyebrow. 'I'm not sure getting out of it is even an option. I imagine it's a three-line whip kind of event.'
'What on earth is a three-line whip?'
'Oh.' Now he regretted saying it. Why was this such a feature of his conversations with Lupin, that he constantly said things without thinking? 'It's a Muggle term – from their political system, it's to do with voting. It means – you must attend, you must do what we tell you.'
'I see,' Lupin said instead, smiling. 'I thought for a moment Albus had got a lot stricter in his leadership style than I realised.' Then his smile widened. 'Or a lot kinkier.'
Severus said nothing – it seemed safest – and devoted himself to stirring the Wolfsbane again.
'So – er – am I right in thinking Albus doesn't usually hold these parties?' Lupin said, clearly sensing Severus's unresponsiveness to humour.
'It's the first one since I've been here. I take it to be because the Sirius Black situation is making life difficult for everyone. He wants to lighten the mood, or something.'
Lupin smiled again, but more uncertainly. 'Well, I wouldn't mind if it was just going to be the staff, but I can't say I'm thrilled about the governors being there. They don't know about – my condition. Not to mention the thought of meeting Lucius Malfoy and having to be polite to him.' He made a face of disgust.
'I may well be tasked with keeping an eye on him,' Severus said. Inwardly he congratulated his own strategising. A perfect way to make it seem natural when he glued himself to Lucius's side for the entire evening.
'That doesn't sound very fun for you.'
Oh, he really had no idea how wrong he was. He flickered an eyebrow and said dryly, 'I have a somewhat frosty relationship with fun anyway.' Then, when he saw Lupin looking at him in what he suspected was fast approaching sympathy, he added, 'No doubt you'll be able to keep out of Malfoy's way.'
'Yes, I'll certainly try,' Lupin agreed. 'Also – what do you think the dress code will be? It's just that – I don't actually have dress robes at the moment. I tore them to pieces a while back – pre-Wolfsbane, obviously – and haven't got round to replacing them yet.'
Severus was about to ask Lupin whether his very generous Hogwarts salary couldn't stretch to a new set of dress robes, but it occurred to him that the werewolf might have debts to pay off, money he'd been forced to borrow over the years when no one would employ him. Instead he said, 'It would be unlike Albus to set a dress code for something like this, I doubt it'll matter.' He nodded at the goblet. 'You can drink that now.'
'Oh, yes, all right.' Lupin came over and lifted the full goblet from the workbench.
Something occurred to Severus. 'Actually, one thing before you do.' He opened his big ledger and picked up his quill. 'This disinhibited state you go through just after you drink it. Can you describe it in more detail?'
'Describe it?'
'I mean, what does it feel like? I can give you some prompts if it's difficult, but it's better if you use your own words. I want to understand exactly what happens in the body when the Wolfsbane is drunk.'
'Ah.' Lupin looked suddenly embarrassed. 'Well, it's a bit – it's hard to explain, to be honest – or rather it's –' He broke off.
'Lupin,' Severus said wearily, 'I have been researching potions for nearly twenty years. Whatever you are going to say, I think I can cope.'
The werewolf sighed, and gave a rueful smile. 'Maybe another time, is that all right?' Without waiting for an answer he lifted the goblet and drained its contents, then got up. 'Thank you for doing this. Again. Have a good week.' To Severus's annoyance, he started to make his way towards the door of the dungeon.
'Lupin.'
He spoke a little more sharply than he had meant to, but it stopped the werewolf dead. Lupin turned and looked back at him, his eyes noticeably different now – what was it, why did that shining golden expression look so familiar? – and waited.
He paused for a second, to make sure his voice would be calm. 'You understand there is a limit to how much I can improve this potion if you don't answer my questions.'
Lupin nodded, but didn't reply. Then with a strange expression he said softly, 'Good night, Severus,' and turned and left the dungeon.
This was becoming a habit: a friendly-ish conversation with an awkward ending. Perhaps it was inevitable, that they could only sustain professional courtesy for a limited time, before the old hostility resurfaced.
He picked up the goblet and took it to the sink to wash, dumping the silvery acorn into the drain. Well, at least Lupin would be out of action for a few days now, and he had a few days' break from evening brewing. Perhaps his body might accept, even temporarily, that the threat had gone away, and consent to let him sleep. He wondered if he would ever catch up on the rest he had missed throughout the long years of his life. Somehow, he doubted it.
