Disclaimer: Characters and situations belong to J.K. Rowling. I am just using them for fun, not for profit and entirely without malice.
Just a reminder - this story began pre-Half-Blood Prince, so there was much we didn't know and made up, which later turned out to be wrong. This is the sequel to Salvage What You Can.
Recap: Severus is explaining to Remus about the incantation-activated poison he brewed for himself and Lucius Malfoy during the war when they feared torture at the hands of Death Eaters or Aurors. Wolfsbane has been discovered to be slowly killing long-terms users like Lupin, so werewolves now have to undergo a natural change every full moon, which is painful and exhausting. The potions experts are trying to find a new solution, but Remus is quite ill.
Oh, I should probably warn you about a bit of language.
Xxx
Flashback.
It made a nice change for Snape to be able to let his guard down. Even though he did most of the research for the suicide potion at the dead of night, there would always be someone shuffling around the Institute of Master Potioners' library. These night owls were either undergraduates who had left their assignments until the last minute and now had to stay up cramming three months' work into one desperate night, or the true brewing geniuses to whom the rhythm of night and day played second fiddle to the irregular moments of academic inspiration.
Today, however, Severus was confident that he was one of only three or four people on the entire campus and certainly the only one wishing to do any work. Term had ended a week ago, so the disorganised midnight-oil burners had no reason to linger here. Even the most committed fellows, even the maddest of professors had been reclaimed by their families and forced, for this one special day of the year at least, to re-enter society and pay attention to something besides their precious potions.
Other people might have been upset that they had nowhere else to spend Christmas Day, but Severus Snape had descended the spiral staircase to the lowest and darkest depths of the IMP library with a feeling of immense satisfaction that crisp yuletide morn. For the first time, he could confidently bring all of his and Sophia Malfoy's notes with him without having to worry about discovery by inquisitive potioners. The formidable centenarian Madam Slughorn would be ensconced by her son's cosy fireside far from Wiltshire and unable to sneak up and bang his head with a heavy book for eating sandwiches, so there would be no need to interrupt his work even for meals. He had arranged everything around him, got very comfortable and by eight o'clock on Christmas Day evening, had made tremendous progress with this most dangerous and illegal challenge.
The translation spell on Sophia's copy of the Hungarian wizard's notes had worked well on the general words and explanations, but for some reason it had not been able to touch the more technical potions vocabulary. As this was the most important part, Severus was growing increasingly frustrated as one incomprehensible word after another derailed his train of thought. To calm himself down he thought of Lucius, who had been forced to spend his first Christmas as a married man with his new in-laws, the Blacks.
At least his Hungarian language problems weren't that bad.
Poor old Lucius. Snape chuckled as he looked around at the familiar, solid and dusty old shelves full of fascinating knowledge and decided that Magyar conundrums notwithstanding, today was probably his best Christmas ever.
Leaving all his work on the table, certain that no one was around to disturb it, he ascended one library level in search of a better translation spell, one which might incorporate the technical potions terminology. There was a very useful shelf that his tutor had mentioned as holding all manner of study-aid magic and helpful material for students, lovingly compiled over the years by fellows of the institute. Unfortunately, after fifty minutes of rifling through the pages of assorted scribbles, he was no closer to finding anything of use. Disappointed, he took a plain, generic English-Magyar dictionary down from the shelf and took it back with him.
The first hint of anything being amiss was a very slight waft of an unusual scent. Down in the library's depths, where fresh air seldom penetrated, the overriding smells were of dust, paper and the odour of wizards too academically brilliant to bother with humdrum things like washing, so the ghost of flowers which suggested itself for a split second then vanished was startling. Hurrying towards the desk where he had so unwisely left his notes unattended, the smell seemed to be getting stronger and Snape cursed himself for the world's most foolish dunderhead.
If anyone had discovered what he was up to, he was probably going to have to Obliviate them now. Lucius had said that the authorities took such a dim view of these kind of potions that they had murdered his formidable and important 18th century ancestor Sophia Malfoy without a second thought. A wizard as young and insignificant at Snape would be dealt with silently and immediately and no one would ever know what had happened to him, if the Ministry were feeling rattled. The Dark Mark on his forearm would render any possible excusing arguments null and void in the event of his arrest and he would simply disappear.
Miserably, he cast a silencing charm on his feet and edged cautiously to the area where he had been working, wondering whether he ought simply to have fled without incriminating himself further by returning to the scene of his crime. Crouching behind a shelving unit, he peered over the top of the bound volumes of the Alchemical Almanac, (Mar 1601 - Feb 1665) and made out one single person in a hooded cloak reading his notebook and frequently gasping with surprise. A female, judging by the squeaks and the flowery scent. He moved along to try to see who his adversary was, when his left knee made a sudden click, in reality rather quiet but which echoed like a whipcrack in the sepulchral silence of the library.
The woman leaped to her feet and Snape pulled his wand, ready to stun, curse or even worse, if necessary.
"Sev?" asked Lily Evans' voice.
Xxx
"Oh!" exclaimed Remus.
The two wizards were sitting on the bed at the house in Cornwall as Snape continued telling the secrets he had kept hidden for decades. Both were emotionally exhausted - Remus from receiving so many shocks in quick succession and Severus from having to share his most shameful moments with the person whose good opinion mattered most in his world.
"She'd had a blazing row with her sister's odious boyfriend, apparently," whispered Snape. "After spouting all his irritating comments and sexist jokes while the Evans womenfolk worked hard preparing Christmas dinner, he made a stupid comment about witches having warts and she stormed out of her parents' house to prevent herself from hexing him."
"Dursley," murmured Remus dryly.
"Pity she restrained herself, in that case," sighed Snape. "It was only a few days after James Potter's father had died and she was nervous of intruding on the family's grief so she had come to the library to take her mind off everything."
"And she found out what you were doing?"
Xxx
"This is incredible! Are you really working on a potion which can be taken in advance then activated at the moment it's needed? I've never even heard of such a thing! The implications for the future are mind blowing!" Lily's eyes shone with wonder, huge and green in her freckled face as in her virtuous innocence, she spotted only the do-gooding potential of incantation-activated potions. Amazement had temporarily robbed her of that sharpness which made her such a dangerous addition to the forensic section of the department of Magical Law Enforcement, as far as the Death Eaters were concerned. Foolish girl. Her wand was on the table, more than an arm's reach away, there were no witnesses and it would have been the work of two seconds to dispose of her completely.
For some reason, however, Snape was frozen to the spot, unable to speak, let alone cast spells on his former classmate and NEWT potions partner. After all that they had achieved together at Hogwarts, his respect for Evans' intelligence and ability to control most of her house with a simple raised eyebrow meant that he could never bring himself to harm her. So perhaps she wasn't so silly after all.
The library was its usual cool temperature, but the adrenaline of being discovered made Snape feel too hot. To buy himself thinking time, he reached for the flask of water he had brought with his picnic and took a long slow drink. Lily watched him silently, mercifully not badgering him with questions. For once, she was keeping her curiosity under control and he was grateful. He took another long swig and emptied the flask, then, unable to stall any longer, he looked her in the face and opened his mouth to speak. She got in first.
"Are you a Death Eater, Severus?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied at once.
"Are you going to use these potions you're researching to kill someone?"
"Yes."
"Who?"
"Lucius and myself."
Startled, Lily seemed to need a deep, steadying breath before rapping out the next question.
"Whatever for?"
Words spilled out of Snape. Confessions and fears which he'd never admitted to himself, even in the sweaty, sleepless hours when the world looked so bleak he had to repeat potions formulas under his breath to stop the demons encroaching at the edges of his consciousness.
He was afraid, so afraid. Joining the Death Eaters had sounded like such a good idea two years ago, when he had been young and poor and driven by anger. At first it had felt like and extension of the safety of the house system at Hogwarts - rather than having to survive in the uncertain real world, you joined Voldemort and immediately had a set of rules to follow. The rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin, by which the years of their youth had been defined, had merely changed to Death Eaters versus Everyone Else. A grown-up gang full of powerful wizards. It had felt sensible and, well, safe.
Voldemort had been impressed with Snape's skill as a potioner and had flattered him and made him feel as though he had a purpose. For the first time, the young man had the impression that he was important and not just some greasy, ugly creature unworthy of existence. He had earned the respect of the great wizard not through birth or attractiveness or any of the things which had mattered to his schoolfellows, but through hard work and intelligence. It was a heady feeling.
The honeymoon had not lasted, of course. He now explained to Lily how he had seen the Death Eaters for what they were - a bloodthirsty group of terrorists whose violence brought out the worst in other people and was slowly destroying wizarding Britain. In reality, they had no respect for anyone or anything and it had been a sickening revelation to find that his own side was as dangerous to him as the enemy. Then, the attack on Wilkes had dispelled any notion he may have had of the aurors or Dumbledore's cronies being any less brutal.
"Wilkes was killed when he fell onto farm equipment while attacking an elderly couple," she contradicted him.
"No, he was tortured to death by Moody, Phelps, Black, Potter and a couple of others I didn't recognise," said Snape flatly. "I heard them laughing as they did it."
Lily's face drained completely. Slowly, moving like a frail elderly lady, she lowered herself into a chair and stared at the empty flask on the table in front of her.
"My own fault," she murmured absently, a half-minute of heavy silence later. "Oh, god. I wanted the truth and I got it."
"What's your fault?" he asked, following her gaze.
Something cleared in Severus' mind and pure panic washed over him.
"You BITCH!" He screamed. "You complete and utter mudblooded bitch!"
"Sev, I'm sorry, I had to know."
"Veritasserum!"
"That's what we're working on at the moment," she sounded weary now, as though the news of her fiancé's mob brutality had extinguished something vital inside her, but terror and adrenaline were overtaking him as she continued. "Researching a few improvements. I had a vial in my…"
It was the only time in his life that Snape ever hit a woman. The slap knocked her sideways in the chair and was so hard it made his hand sting and he nursed it against his chest as his knees failed and his bottom hit the floor painfully hard. The truth potion disabled any emotional inhibition and he found he was crying like a little child, with tears and snot running all over his face as he snivelled apologies and incoherent words of mortification.
When Lily turned back to him, her cheek was red, but the brightness had returned to her eyes.
"Insults and injuries," she smirked down at his miserable form. "God, look at the state of us. It was low of me to spike your drink like that. Sirius is so convinced you're one of You Know Who's lot, when I found these amazing notes in your handwriting just now I had to check. Sounds like you're in trouble."
"Trouble?" echoed Snape, wetly. "In real danger of a long and painful, drawn-out tortured death, or some other fate worse than death, more like. I know I've brought it on myself but that doesn't make the idea of hearing my own eyeballs explode any more appealing."
"So you'd rather kill yourself? And Malfoy? Does he know you're trying to poison him? Be honest with me, Sev," she added, with feeling.
"Don't have any choice, do I?" he grumbled, flicking his head towards the flask. Lily had the grace to look faintly embarrassed.
"This is a war. We're on opposite sides," she shrugged, then stared at him sharply. "I think." The implication was not a direct question, so he was able to ignore it.
"It was Lucius' idea to develop the potion and use it to kill ourselves rather than suffer like Wilkes did," her wince was rather gratifying, given that she had bettered him so soundly. "There's no other way out. You can't resign from death-eating any more than you can tell Crouch or Moody that you're sorry you've been a naughty boy and beg their forgiveness. I have to make this potion, Evans, it's my only hope. You must understand."
Xxx
"She still married James," marvelled Remus. "She knew he tortured Wilkes to death and still married him."
"It wasn't a decision she made lightly," said Snape, quietly.
"She discussed it with you?" asked Remus, surprised.
"We spent quite a bit of time together between Christmas and New Year, while Potter was mourning his father and the Death Eaters were doing the familial duties. I trusted her not to betray me to the aurors and she trusted me not to…well, silence her for knowing too much. I believe the idea of the incantation-activated potion captured her imagination too - Lily never could resist an academic challenge."
Flabbergasted yet again in this night of surprises, Remus gaped.
"She broke the law and helped you brew the suicide poison?!"
"You must remember from school, Remus, we were the Dream Team in the laboratory. I couldn't have done it without her."
Xxx
S,
Here you go, 'borrowed' from the Old Man's library. I sliced off the cover and filled it with newspaper, so there's no gap on the shelf. He'll never notice it's missing.
For God's sake be careful! I mean it.
L.
Surrounded by brewing equipment in the secret cellar lab at Malfoy Manor, Snape gave the anonymous bird an owl treat and grinned as he imagined Lily stealing the rare and precious potioner's dictionary from her fiancé's family, defacing it and giving it to a known Death Eater to help him brew illegal poisons. Then he grinned even wider at the thought of Lucius' face if he ever found out that a member of the MLE forensics team was helping them achieve their dark little project.
It really was true, he reflected. Nothing was ever black and white.
Xxx
There didn't seem to be much that Remus could say after that. Obviously unearthed by the long discussion of the past, a hitherto forgotten memory surfaced, of Sirius flopping onto the lawn after a tough exam and exclaiming that even though he'd been sitting still for the last three hours, he felt like he'd sprinted all the way to Aberdeen… The light remark had been spot on at the time and now was a no less accurate description of Remus' current exhausted state.
Numbly, Remus and Severus agreed they should leave the bedroom and ventured into the dark kitchen to make tea. Neither of them wanted any tea, but sleep was out of the question and lying awake in bed brooding had proved insufferable after the first twenty minutes. Severus set the kettle boiling without any magical assistance before getting the milk. Remus opened the cupboard doors and reached for the mugs by hand. When he placed them on the worktop, the 'clunk' sound they made seemed very loud.
They carried the drinks through to the sitting room and lit a single lamp, not really needing to focus on the world outside of their own racing minds, although at the back of Remus' consciousness was the beginning tingle of one of the muscular pains associated with his illness. The tea cooled undrunk as the two wizards stared silently at nothing.
Eventually, Remus looked at Severus.
"So since then, since you were nineteen you have had the power to end your own life by uttering a single word, at any moment you choose?" There had been so much information to process, this fundamental fact had not managed to sink in earlier.
"Yes," whispered Snape, his voice hoarser than usual from too much talking, and quieter than usual from the crushing weight of the words it had been forced to utter.
"So…when you were captured and imprisoned with Harry, when you were being broken and put under Cruciatus, when you knew that Voldemort wanted to slowly kill you with as much pain as possible…" He stopped and stared into the congealing surface of the mug without actually seeing it.
"Yes?" Snape tried to prompt him to continue, but this time no sound at all came out. After a moment, Lupin continued anyway.
"Why didn't you end it? Why endure for all that time when you knew there was a way out? You, Malfoy and Lily went to all that trouble to give you your emergency escape and you never used it. Malfoy chose his own termination, rather than being given the dementor's Kiss. Why didn't you?"
Not even the superhuman ears of a werewolf could make out Snape's carefully considered reply, so Remus moved his stiffening body across the room and installed himself at his lover's feet in order to hear. Gratitude burst onto Snape's sharp features at the gesture of closeness and Lupin grasped his hand.
"I could not," he half heard, half lip-read the gravely-delivered response. "So much had happened since I took the poison, things were no longer so simple. Since defecting to Albus my life had a purpose, more than that, it was something which had to continue until I had atoned for the evils I had committed as a youth, which, as you heard this evening, were many. There was work to be done and Dumbledore made sure I was kept busy. When Harry and I were captured, it became clear that the Dark Lord was enjoying watching the boy's distress each time I was injured and that he would keep me alive - in agony, but alive - for as long as possible, only murdering Harry after I expired. I knew it was my duty to fight on in the hope that it would buy the rescue party time enough to find him before he was killed."
Remus had thought that he was emotionally saturated and unable to feel any more that night, but when the first sob came he realised this was not the case. The dispassionate account Severus gave of the horrific torture, which had harmed him to the extent that even magic had not been enough to cure all of the damage, was breaking Remus' heart. He lay his head on the good knee and cried, wondering whether in the same situation he would have had the courage to do likewise.
Severus' fingers gently tapped his shoulder until he lifted his heavy head and looked up into the tearful dark eyes of the bravest wizard he had ever known.
"I'm sorry," he mouthed.
"You're what?" sniffed the werewolf, incredulously.
"For keeping all this secret. But also for telling you. It's too great a burden…" Remus lost the rest of the sentence as he let his head droop again, burying his face in the fabric of Snape's dressing gown. There was more tapping, which he ignored, then fingers seized his hair and firmly pulled him up so that he could not help but see what he was being told.
"I'm so sorry for what I was. Although there is a great deal to think about, you are tired and too ill to be lying around on the floor. The things we must discuss can wait until morning. May I put you to bed?"
It was late when Remus awoke the next day. Astoundingly, he had slept well without being troubled by nightmares, so it took a few seconds for the details for Severus' confession to come back to him. Since he became ill, he had grown used to dozing at odd hours and waking alone, but now panic gripped him as he realised that Severus was not there. The details of his lover's grim past had shocked Remus as the story unfolded, sickened him even, yet murder and intrigue were less important now than the fact that Severus was only ever a single word away from death.
The notion of Severus dying was not something he had ever considered. Even before the wolfsbane scandal broke, it was common knowledge that a werewolf had a shorter lifespan than a human and despite his disabilities, Snape had always been as strong as an erumpent. Remus had casually assumed that he would have his partner for the rest of his life, yet suddenly, that dear existence had become so precarious at struck him cold with fear. Where was he? He needed Severus that minute, that second; needed to feel him warm and grumpy and alive despite the poison sleeping in his body.
He kicked away the bedclothes and sat on the edge of the bed waiting for his morning dizziness to subside.
"Josty!" He called the house-elf for help. The sooner he was ready, the sooner he could find Severus. "Josty!"
"Josty is here, master. Please, master Remus is not to be exerting hisself…" the little creature tried to lie him back down and was almost pushed away.
"Where's Severus?"
"Is master not well? Can Josty fetch…?"
"Josty! Please!" His control was slipping away. "Where is he? In the house? At the IMP?"
"He is gone for walking on the cliffs, master."
No man wielding such power over his own mortality would consider ending his life in so artless a way as jumping from a great height, Remus told himself as he hurried out of the Gatehouse towards the cliff path. Besides, this was Severus' favourite place to take exercise and it was only natural that he should come out into the fresh sea air after the harrowing night he must have passed, particularly if he had not slept so well as Remus.
These arguments were perfectly logical, yet no amount of reasoning could eradicate the trepidation quickening his breath as he scanned the landscape for a single dark figure. Perhaps the violence of the relentless waves splintering into jets of foam as they pounded the rocks just metres away, higher than usual for the time of year, made him feel more unsettled. Every gull-call made him start; a plastic bag blown along the ground by the wind had him reaching for his wand before he registered what it was.
Severus finally came into view as he rounded the next corner, looking suitably dark and windswept in spite of the midday sunshine. Rather than soothing Remus' worries however, the sight of him made them worse as the fear that something had happened to him gave way to fear of what would happen next.
Snape stood as soon as he spotted Remus, raising himself from the ancient stone wall where he had been sitting by leaning heavily on his walking stick. Adrenaline all spent, Remus stumbled a little as they walked along the beaten dirt path towards each other and immediately found a steadying charm supporting him.
"I'm all right," he said automatically, shrugging it off. A second later they were just feet apart and Severus, looking like hell and with black and white stripes of hair blowing around his head, was staring piercingly into his eyes.
"Are you, though?" he whispered.
"I don't know," Lupin answered. "I think I'm still reeling."
"Naturally," nodded Severus. His voice appeared to be back to normal - that is, dreadfully quiet and hoarse but easily audible to lycanthropine ears. Neither spoke for a while and stared out at the restless movement of the sea.
Don't kill yourself," Remus asked at last. "Now I know how easy it would be, I'm frightened."
"I shan't," he sounded surprised that such a thought could enter Remus' head. He continued matter-of-factly: "Not until I have found a new potion which will keep you safe at full moon without harming you, at least."
"Not even then!" Remus rounded on him with a shout. "You'd save my life for long enough to break my heart?! Severus Snape, don't you DARE do that to me!"
"I…" he took a step away, caught unawares by the sudden change of mood.
"You won't leave me!" Remus snarled, furious with fear, advancing on him and grasping his arms. "How could you even consider that?"
"After what you heard last night, you still want me?" Snape's eyes were wide with disbelief. "You would still want a despicable person like me as a lover?!"
"OF COURSE I DO!" Remus bellowed into his face, incandescent. The walking stick slid from Severus' hand as the grip on his upper arms tightened hard enough to bruise. "How could you think I wouldn't, after all this time and everything we've done together?"
"I killed Phelps."
"I don't care."
"You should," he attempted the familiar classroom sneer, but the effect was ruined by the tears beginning to run down his cheeks.
"I know," Remus relaxed his hold a little, still angry but too tired to continue shouting. "I ought to but I don't. Old age and infirmity has made me selfish and right now, things we did in the past seem a hell of a lot less important than our future, however short that turns out to be."
Severus' head flopped forward onto Remus' shoulder and they held each other for a long moment.
Any passing stranger approaching from a distance would have thought the embrace a tender, romantic one until he came close enough to be confused by the grim expressions on their faces, but then no stranger could understand the dark and heavy history which had weighed down the lives of both men. That the embrace was tender, romantic and grim, all at the same time, could only be grasped by those who knew them well, and only truly appreciated, truly felt, by Remus Lupin and Severus Snape.
After ten minutes they pulled apart, chilled by the wind until they were both shivering. Remus summoned Severus' cane and handed it to him.
"Thank you," he whispered.
"You're welcome," Remus replied. "It was my fault you dropped it."
Snape sneered and rolled his reddened eyes.
"That's not what I was thanking you for, idiot werewolf."
"Vicious Slytherin git," he shot back, taking his arm and leading him back in the direction of home. "I know."
xxx
THE END.
xxx
Well, not quite. I can never resist an epilogue!
Huge thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read this story, despite wild changes of direction and enormous gaps between updates. Oh yes, and despite the utterly soppy romantic nonsense. I'm so pleased that anyone has the patience! Thank you so much for all your kind reviews - they mean a great deal to me. Love, Nightie xx