Remus really, truly, wondered sometimes whether the rational thought process in Albus's brain had somehow gone faulty over the years. Sending Harry to Grimmauld Place in spite of the ongoing security risk was one thing. But placing him with Severus Snape, Hogwart's most hated Professor since Phineas Nigellus himself…Well. That was a decision he personally would never have made in a thousand years.

The fish was spitting hot oil all over the counter, and for a moment Remus was worried Harry would be hurt by it, but he'd simply rolled down the sleeves of his oversized flannel and continued cooking. Remus busied himself with chopping vegetables for their soup. For a time, the kitchen was silent other than the thock of the knife on the weathered old cutting board, and the hiss of the fish in the pan. "I don't like being locked up without news or a way to talk to my friends," Harry said eventually. "I hadn't meant to go anywhere but back here, but I've just been so sick of being stuck inside of this house. All I've been doing is homework. If I could talk to Ron and Hermione, or even have them over for an hour or two…But Snape wouldn't let them come inside, would he?"

"Professor Snape, Harry," Remus corrected. As idiotic as Severus was currently acting, he still deserved basic respect. James and Sirius had never gotten around to understanding that, but Harry had always been more like Lily than James. "And you may find yourself surprised. There's no harm in asking after everything has calmed down again."

Harry hummed noncommittally and continued cooking. Reaching for a container of basil that was of incredibly dubious freshness, he said, "So you'll, er, be staying the night, then?" and glanced at him in a way that was probably meant to be discreet.

"I will," Remus confirmed. Hence the soup, to add heaviness to an otherwise very light meal for three. He blinked hard and rolled his shoulders to pop his back. "I need to make sure the prat in there won't die through the night, though it would serve him right. I'm sorry, Harry, I shouldn't be saying such things in front of you…"

"S'all right," he said, a little too quickly.

Remus didn't need to look at him to see the smirk on Harry's face; he could almost tangibly feel it. That had always irritated him, while teaching. Feeling the hidden smirks passed behind his back as the students mocked his shabby clothing instead of paying attention to the lesson. Hopefully, having Imposter Moody as an instructor for a time, with the eye that could see through the back of his head, had scared them straight a tad. It would be one of the only good things he'd have done for those children.

"Where will you be sleeping?" Harry asked, flipping the fish in the skillet. It was cast iron. Remus hoped it wasn't hurting his wrist to hold it like that. "I'm still on the couch for now—it's not bad, actually, better than my bed at the Dursley's—and I dunno if Sn— Professor Snape has an extra bed. S'pose you could Transfigure one. But where would you put it?"

The entire house was cramped, looking at it. It suited Severus. Dark, secretive, and unkempt—just like its owner. Even if he were to Transfigure a bed out of whatever bit of rubbish he could find, there would be nowhere to put it. "I suppose I'll take the chair."

"It's not bad, either. I slept on it last night. I think he's fortified everything here with all sorts of charms."

Something about Harry's tone gave Remus pause. "Why did you sleep in the chair last night?" he asked, keeping his tone even and politely quizzical. "Did you fall asleep reading?"

"What? Oh, no—I doubt he'd let me touch his books, let alone read them. He came home after seeing Voldemort." Now transferring the fish onto three plates, two of which had been chipped so long ago that the broken edges had been worn smooth again, Harry immediately started on frying eggs. He cracked each of them one-handed. "They're about to expire. You don't mind eggs, do you?"

"Not at all." Stewing in Harry's not-explanation of why he'd slept in the chair instead of on the sofa, Remus chopped the last of the vegetables and dropped them into the boiling broth on the sputtering stove, careful not to interfere with the Veritaserum simmering away next to it. "How is your schoolwork going? Are you making decent headway?"

They continued to chat quietly as they finished making tea. There was no sound from the room opposite, though Remus knew full-well Severus was listening to their every word, if not eavesdropping next to the doorway, paranoid bastard that he was. "Harry," Remus said, cutting him off halfway through a description of a flying maneuver he'd learned before the end of term, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but would you mind watching the soup for just a moment? I need to check on Severus."

"Yeah, I don't mind." Harry gave him a teenager-sneaky side glance. Nothing about it failed to hide the burning curiosity etched in his every movement.

Remus sent a wan smile his way and headed out into the living room. There had been no sudden burst in movement out by the doorway, but he could tell by the tense line of Severus's shoulders as he flipped unconcernedly through a dusty novel, that he had most certainly been eavesdropping on their conversation. "Not dead yet, I see," he greeted. "How are you holding up?"

"Your concern is neither wanted nor warranted."

"That's unfortunate, then, because I am concerned. Not only for Harry's safety in this house, but for your safety, as well." Remus took a moment to breathe and gather himself. Even after all these years, he'd never quite developed the skill of confrontation. Avoidance and denial was more his style. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to continue. "This can't go on, Severus. This animosity between you and Harry is unhealthy to the extremes. He is not James. I'm both relieved and saddened to find that there is very little James in him at all, beyond his physical appearance."

"He has been disrespectful from the start. From the very first class—"

"How much of his apparent disrespect has been your determination to see James in all that he does, and how much of it has been Lily's cheek shining through?"

"Do not— " Severus began, before he cut himself off with what appeared to be a Herculean effort. His hands were like claws on the arms of the chair, fingers digging into the sides like he was trying to strangle Remus through sheer will. There was a vaguely unhinged look to him. Faint rustling in the kitchen was the only sign of Harry taking a turn at eavesdropping; but they both clearly heard it. Severus glared at the doorway. Then, forcefully, "You need to leave."

Remus tried his best not to back down. It was a near thing. "Harry has more of Lily in him than you, and most everyone else, seem to think. His mother's eyes aren't all that he's inherited." And with that, the last of his courage drained away, leaving him wearier than he'd been before. "Dinner should be nearly ready. Are you able to stand?"

"Fuck off."

"Is that a yes?"

"It's a get the hell out of my sodding house, Lupin. Of all the times for someone to miraculously learn how to follow orders, this would be the best. Return to the mouldering dump Black calls a house and leave me be."

"As you wish, Severus," Remus said in the most pleasant tone he could manage. "I'll be leaving quite promptly…once the sun has risen and Albus has been contacted and fully debriefed on today's events."

If looks could kill, Severus Snape would most certainly be the first to discover how.

—

Severus couldn't decide who he hated more.

James Potter, prat almighty, had been dead fourteen years, but even a decade and a half wasn't enough to extinguish the hatred rooted to his soul, like a parasitic plant that had taken hold and grown thorns over his heart. His even deeper hatred for Sirius Black was one that would never die. That much had become certain from the very first days of their Hogwarts years. But Remus Lupin was someone he'd never held hatred towards in the way he had the man's friends. The werewolf's main sin lay in his failure to do his job as a prefect and, later, as a professor and protector of children.

Recent events were causing him to reconsider placing Lupin at the top of his 'Die A Painful Death' list.

The boy had been unashamedly eavesdropping throughout whatever passed for a conversation. That much was entirely obvious. It wasn't a reason to hate him —if Potter was destined to kill the Dark Lord, he might as well learn to fight dirty—but the boy's mere presence in his house was a good enough reason at present to satisfy him. Severus forced himself to sit upright (perhaps the second Calming Draught hadn't been the best idea) and keep his eyes open. "Get out. I won't say it again."

"Glad to hear it. It should make our night together that much more pleasant. Harry"—There was a thump on the wall from the boy pressing his ear to the plaster—"would you begin plating the rest of the food? I'm sure the soup and eggs are finished cooking by now."

Potter slowly shuffled out into the open, red-faced but generally unashamed. "Yeah, I will. Is he—all right, then?"

Severus fixed him with a baleful look until a more appropriately embarrassed expression appeared. "Yes, he is all right," he said scathingly, and stood with a minimal amount of swaying to prove it. Neither the boy nor the werewolf looked convinced. Entirely fed up with the both of them, he swept out into the kitchen and grabbed the first plate he saw, spooning roasted vegetables onto it, and then soup into the blue bowl in the cupboard with the hairline crack running through the center. "No need to wait to serve yourselves. You'll be dining with each other tonight. Lupin, do refrain from coming upstairs. You can fend for yourself if you truly feel the need to stay. Potter, go to bed at a reasonable time. You were up far too late last night."

Without another word, he left the room and headed up the stairs to his bedroom to eat alone. It was only until he'd settled himself on his bed that Severus realized he'd forgotten to grab any silverware.

—

He couldn't sleep.

Anxiety chewed at him like a feral dog. The house was silent beyond the usual creaks and groans, but if he listened carefully enough, Severus thought he could hear the sound of joint breathing from the floor below. It brought back memories, that breathing. Memories of his—parents, and—

Severus eased out of bed carefully enough that the mattress scarcely made a sound. The touch of his bare feet against the frigid floorboards sent a shock through his system, but he worked past the involuntary shudder that wracked through him and took a step over to the patch of floor next to the nightstand, where he knew the wood had settled.

The journey down the stairs was a slow one. His feet felt like blocks of ice, throbbing in time with the pounding headache bursting through his temples, by the time he found himself skirting round the edge of the sofa, where the Potter boy lay curled on his side like a kitten. The lump on the chair that was Lupin sat prone, unmoving. Both asleep. Severus refused to allow himself to feel relieved. He made his way to the kitchen, instead, and cast Muffliato over the doorway.

It had begun to rain outside. The sound of raindrops pattering against the kitchen window became no more than soothing white noise as he got to work, pulling out the ingredients for Skele-Gro, Essence of Dittany, Blood-Replenishing Potion, Antiseptic Solution, and Pepper-Up Potion. If he was to stay awake all night long, he might as well make himself useful and begin restocking the Hogwarts Infirmary, as well as his personal first aid kit.

The sun had not yet begun to rise, and he had only just finished bottling his second vial of Dittany, when Severus realized there was now only one set of deep breathing from the room adjacent. The hairs rose on the back of his neck and goosebumps prickled along his arms. Whipping round to face the doorway, Severus locked eyes with Lupin, who'd only just entered the room. "Skulking about, I see," he said with a sneer, blinking hard to refocus himself from whatever haze he'd fallen into during the last two hours. "Hoping to do some snooping in the light of the moon, Lupin?"

"Light of the moon?" the wolf murmured back, with a sardonic, faintly self-deprecating smile. "What moon are you seeing through those clouds, that I somehow cannot?"

Severus glared at him, setting the vial of Dittany down onto the counter with unnecessary force. He reached for a third vial.

"Where are your glasses?"

"What?"

"My throat is parched. Where are your glasses? I can assure you, I won't leave a single trace of werewolf cooties. I'll even wash the glass once I'm through with it."

His jaw protested against the gritting of his teeth. "Don't bother. I'll only be throwing it away once you're with finished it. Above the sink, Lupin. To the right."

"You've never been one to pass up a chance to be petty, Severus." The tap of the sink opened with the usual judder and clang, and stayed running for nearly a minute as Lupin filled and refilled his glass, drinking deeply as though he'd gone without water for days. Severus had seen enough of Grimmauld Place that he'd likely agree with any who brought up the subject of potential water contamination. The sink shut off. "Thank you. Would you prefer I break the glass first, or would you like me to simply stick it in with the other bits of rubbish?"

Severus didn't bother to look up from where he'd begun to grind fluxweed with his mortar and pestle. "Just Vanish it and save me the effort of kashering it. I don't believe werewolves are Kosher."

To his genuine surprise, Lupin began laughing, edging along the outskirts of the kitchen until he came to a stop to Severus's left. Was the wolf laughing at his expense? "I wouldn't know, but I suppose I'll take your word for it. What are you working on, here?"

A poison to kill myself with, so I no longer have to suffer through your inane attempts at conversation. "Blood-Replenishing Potion. Do you not have anything better to do than loom over my shoulder and breathe on me?"

"I'm afraid not." There was a smile in the wolf's voice. "Are you feeling well? Or is there a reason behind this potion? I was hesitant to ask, earlier, what with Harry listening in, but that bloodstain didn't seem as though it was coming from a papercut."

Angrily, with jerky hands and clenched teeth, Severus pulled the collar of his nightshirt aside long enough to give him a glimpse of the avulsion across his shoulder. He didn't miss the way Lupin's eyes lingered on the sharp line of his collarbone; Severus yanked his shirt up round his neck and bent over his prep station to hide the flush that had begun creeping into his cheeks. "Nothing fatal. Moreso, nothing for you to concern yourself with."

"Nothing to concern myself with? When did this happen? Have you disinfected it? It seems incredibly inflamed."

And suddenly there were warm hands on him, white-hot panic burst through him like he'd been injected with liquid adrenaline, and the throbbing in his head reached a fever-pitch as Severus slammed his hips back against the counter with his arm thrown over his face. The splinters of pain opening in his lower back wasn't enough to distract himself from the sudden pitch of his stomach. He clapped a hand over his mouth in time for bile to rise up his throat—and then vomited all over Lupin's bare feet.

"Oh, no," said Lupin, in such a polite, dismayed voice, that Severus couldn't help but laugh through the gagging.