A/N: Another chapter that Zarathustra and SortingHat47 have done their best to make this perfect. Thank you, ladies!
And thank all of you who have reviewed or put this story on alert or into their favorites!
Disclaimer: Not mine. Sigh. Janny is, though. Think I could get her to come clean my house? Didn't think so.
Chapter 18: Falling Apart
Saturday, 14 September 1985—4:17 p.m.
Severus Snape came to a stop in front of the Headmaster and glared at him wordlessly.
"Yes, Severus?"
"Here." Two bottles were withdrawn from the folds of the Potions master's robes and thrust almost angrily at Dumbledore. "The potions you ordered, sir."
The older wizard hesitated for a moment before taking them. "Would you not like to take them to him yourself? So that you can verify their potency?"
"Why give me the instructions if you are going to question my ability?" Severus asked, sneeringly. "I want nothing more to do with him than this." He nodded toward the bottles. "You can take them to your pet werewolf."
The Headmaster's eyebrows lowered. "I do trust that you will refrain from saying anything about Remus – and his condition – while he is here."
"Oh, of course. We wouldn't like anyone to know there is a Dark Creature capable of ripping the students limb from limb inside the castle." And with that, Snape pivoted gracefully on his heel and walked back the way he had come.
5:02 p.m.
"Stay still, Mr Lupin."
Though how Madame Pomfrey expected him to remain motionless when she was trimming away the burnt and dead skin was beyond his comprehension.
She had numbed his leg with a spell before beginning the procedure, but it couldn't take away all of the pain, especially when she was trying to get down to the deeper layers of skin and bone.
He tilted his chin back so he could look at the ceiling. It hadn't changed. He was sick of looking at it.
"Good afternoon, Madame Pomfrey, Remus." The Headmaster's sudden appearance made Remus jump, and the matron rebuked him sternly.
"I do believe that was my fault for startling him," Dumbledore admitted. He came to stand on the other side of the bed, his eyes fastened on the work Pomfrey was doing. "It is looking better," he opined.
The younger man refused to look. He had seen it and didn't like what he saw. Meat in the butcher's shop window looked better than his leg did right now.
"I've come with gifts, Remus," the Headmaster said with a smile, proffering two small glass vials.
Madame Pomfrey glanced up. "Oh, good. Professor Snape got those to us just in time."
The comment took a moment to settle into Remus' mind. When it did, he had to ask, even though he dreaded the answer: "What does Snape have to do with those potions?"
Dumbledore levitated the bottles over onto the bedside table. "I asked Severus if he would make the potions for you. It seemed to be a better option to have an accomplished potions maker, who happens to be nearby, make them up rather than to rely on St. Mungo's."
Remus stared at the older wizard in sheer disbelief. "Does Snape know who they're for?"
"Of course he does."
"Then you drink them," Remus said. "I'm not touching them."
"Remus –"
"Half of one is probably wolfsbane," the younger man growled. "And the other one is more than likely silver nitrate."
"He would not do that," Dumbledore said. "He takes great pride in his work. He would do nothing that would jeopardize his reputation."
Remus snorted. Dumbledore surely didn't want to have a discussion about the many honours that would await Severus Snape should he kill a werewolf.
Madame Pomfrey straightened and flicked her wand at Remus' leg. Waiting cotton bandages quickly and neatly wrapped themselves the wound. "That will do until tomorrow morning, Mr Lupin." She took the first of the two bottles and uncorked it. "This is the potion for infection…"
"I'm not taking it," Remus said. "He's wanted me dead from our fifth year."
Dumbledore couldn't help but chuckle. "He believes the same of you, you know."
Then what would stop him from adding wolfsbane to whatever he gives me? The Headmaster's eyes were kind, but there was something behind them that told Remus not to continue protesting. Fine. You want me to drink it? You want me dead? It would be a hell of a lot easier on me too. Without a word, he reached for the bottle that Pomfrey was offering to him.
It tasted awful. He couldn't help but shudder. He held out the empty bottle for the matron to take and grabbed the second one. He knocked it back in one quick swallow then pointed to the glass of water sitting on the bedside table.
"See? You're still with us," Dumbledore said with a smile, levitating the glass to him without spilling a single drop.
"Give it some time to work," Remus retorted. He took a drink of water, swishing it around inside his mouth for a moment to get rid of the taste of the potion. "I think my tongue's going numb." It was a classic telltale sign of aconite poisoning. Of course, the taste alone could have deadened every single taste bud in his mouth.
"You know, the two of you have more in common than you think," Dumbledore said, sounding thoughtful.
Remus hoped the expression on his face was every bit as sceptical as he felt at that pronouncement.
"You should talk to him," the Headmaster suggested.
"I'm sure he's quite eager to do that." Remus took another drink of water and handed the glass back to the older man. "Do tell him to stop in this evening for a chat and a game of wizard chess."
Dumbledore's blue eyes narrowed the tiniest bit at the sarcasm in the younger man's tone. Instead of commenting, however, he focused on the glass, floating it back to its original spot on the table.
"I'll have the house elves bring your dinner," Madame Pomfrey said, picking up a carpetbag that contained her supplies. "I'll peek in on you in a bit to settle you in for the night."
"She likes having you back," Dumbledore commented once she was gone.
"Merlin knows why. I've been nothing but a nuisance," the younger man said quietly.
"We would never have brought you here if we thought you were going to be a 'nuisance,'" Dumbledore contradicted him. "We are glad we can help you."
Remus said nothing.
"If you decide you need something, just ring for one of the house elves." The Headmaster patted Remus on the shoulder and followed Madame Pomfrey.
Sunday, 15 September--3:03 a.m.
… "Damn you, wolf! I'll teach you to use magic!"
The hammer rose.
Remus yelled a single word: "NO!"
The hammer fell…
He woke up, trembling and sweating, his right hand throbbing slightly. His leg felt like it was on fire. He should send for Madame Pomfrey. As he wiped the sleeve of his nightshirt across his forehead, he realized he wasn't ready to her to see him in this state. He wasn't ready for anyone to see him right now.
I need a drink.
The glass of water was right there on the bedside table, but he already knew it was a fingertip's length out of reach. His wand, though, was right there…
His fingertips touched the polished wood, but as he did, he heard Parson's harsh, angry voice ring through his head: "I'll teach you to use magic!"
He jerked his hand back quickly, as if he'd been burned. At the same time, his stomach twisted into a tight knot and bile rose in his throat.
He slumped back onto the bed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. Images flickered behind his eyelids: the Waddawasi he had used on the boy at the carnival; the levitation charm that Bill Parsons had seen; and then, he saw his own fingers moving above the form of Libertas…
"I killed him," he whispered. "I killed him with magic. With my magic. With my hands."
Maybe he deserved to have his leg feel like it was burning off. Maybe he deserved to lose that leg altogether. And maybe he should have lost his hand too, since it was what he used to kill the centaur.
Caught in a trap of self-loathing and regret, he found himself unable to sleep.
8:06 a.m.
"Mr Lupin, how are you feeling today?" Madame Pomfrey was already asking the question before the door was completely open.
"Leg hurts," he said curtly. After five hours of intensifying pain, he had no tact left to be polite.
She halted in her tracks and blinked at him, looking surprisingly owlish for a moment. "Well, then, let's take a look, shall we?"
With a decisive snap of her wand, the bandages were severed and fell away from his ankle. Her hand was gentle and cool where it rested slightly above the gaping wound. "How long has it been hurting?" she asked.
He could have told her the truth. But then he would have had to come up with an explanation of why he hadn't used magic to summon her. That was something he wasn't ready to do. "An hour or so," he replied.
"Why didn't you call for me?" she asked. "I would have come down and given you something." She was already rooting around in her carpetbag.
"Didn't want to disturb you," Remus said hoarsely.
"I can't understand why that potion wore off so quickly," she mumbled to herself. "Professor Snape had the instructions."
Does anyone in this bloody place not remember what happened between us? Oh, no, of course not. Snape "takes pride in his work." He'd not deliberately forget some willow bark or feverfew…
Pomfrey suddenly conjured a little brass bell and rang it vigorously. In the few seconds she took to place it on the table next to Remus' wand, a house elf had appeared in front of her.
"How is Janny helping the Matron?" the elf squeaked.
"Janny, could you please go fetch Professor Snape for me?"
The house elf hesitated then managed a feeble smile. "Janny is doing her best!" She disappeared immediately.
The matron pulled a vial from the bag, uncorked it, and handed it to Remus. "That should stop the pain quickly. We'll have to ask Professor Snape to analyze the other and see what went wrong."
The liquid was thick and cold, nearly causing the young man to choke as it went down. But, as Pomfrey had said, the coldness seemed to ooze through his body almost immediately. He couldn't resist shuddering when the iciness gently touched and then blanketed the fiery nerves. A small moan of relief escaped him.
Pomfrey gave him a quick appraising look. "Next time, Mr Lupin, send for me." She motioned to the bell. "I'll leave that there. I'm surprised you didn't conjure one up for yourself. Janny would be more than happy to do for you."
"Didn't want to impose," he said weakly. He wasn't sure whether it was because the pain was gone or there was some sort of sedative in the potion, but now he felt rather boneless and tired.
"Nonsense," she said briskly. She handed him another vial of potion which he drank without question.
The matron was cleaning the wound when Severus Snape came in answer to her summons.
He stopped just inside the door, his eyes automatically drawn to what Pomfrey was doing. Remus couldn't be sure, but he thought the other man pressed his lips together just a bit more tightly as he watched the matron work.
"You wished to see me?" he drawled.
"Yes, Professor Snape, I did." Pomfrey wiped her hands on a quickly conjured towel and reached into her carpetbag. "There seems to be something wrong with the potion that you made up yesterday. Mr Lupin was in great pain this morning when I came in. He said the potion wore off more than an hour ago. I have a suspicion it was much longer than that. I thought you might like to analyze it to see where the problem lies." She pressed a small vial into his hand. "The rest of it is up in the hospital wing, should you need it."
"That is unnecessary." Snape looked at the glass bottle and seemed to be thinking very hard about something. Finally, he said, "I believe it could have been the turmeric. The packet that was given to me by the Headmaster did not seem to have the vibrant colour that I would have expected. It may not have been as freshly collected as what was noted."
"That's easily fixed, then," the matron said, resuming her work on Remus' leg.
"I will need new turmeric," the Potions master said. "You will need to inform the Headmaster."
The woman looked up at him, obviously surprised. "You don't have any other turmeric?"
The thin lips twisted into a parody of a smile. "I have informed the Headmaster that I could not, in good conscience, use what belongs to the school and its students on something that is not part of the school."
Madame Pomfrey glanced quickly at Remus to see how he would react to the man's insult.
Remus smiled, knowing that would irritate Snape more than anything. "It's only fair, Severus. I admit I hadn't thought of the ingredients or even the cost of the potions. I'll have to speak to the Headmaster about that."
"Yes, Lupin. You do that." Speaking now to the matron, Snape said, "I will prepare the new pain potion when I get the new turmeric. Until then, you will have to rely on whatever you have at your disposal. Since the other potion had no turmeric in it, I will assume it is sufficient."
He turned to go, but the werewolf stopped him. "Could I bother you for a list of the ingredients that go into those potions, Severus?"
"As you were a terrible student in Potions, I see absolutely no reason why —"
"I'd like to know what's in them if I'm going to pay for them."
"You couldn't afford half of what goes into them," sneered the dark-haired man. "If I were you, I would just get used to the pain."
"And Dumbledore thinks I should get to know him," thought Remus as Snape walked out.
Little did he know that Severus was thinking the exact same thing.
11:25 a.m.
Dumbledore sighed as he watched the door close behind Poppy Pomfrey. Perhaps it had been a bad idea to bring Remus here. There was nothing worse than when his Potions master was in a snit, and Severus was now in a state of simmering agitation. It wasn't anything that the Headmaster couldn't handle himself; but he did pity Snape's students and colleagues. And now there was Remus to consider. Would his emotional and mental well-being stand up to Severus' sarcasm?
The Headmaster sat back in the chair and looked at Fawkes. "Perhaps they are too much alike."
The phoenix cocked his head to one side and cheeped.
12:41 p.m.
Remus was sitting with his back against the headboard, the book on his lap forgotten.
He could see only sky from where he was, so he guessed he was on the side of the castle that overlooked the lake. The September sky was gloomy and grey — much like he felt. A lone seabird wheeled on the currents of air, twisting this way and that.
Remus envied the bird.
There was a knock at the door, and Dumbledore's bearded visage peered in. "May I come in?" he asked pleasantly.
Remus sighed inwardly. He was still tired from his lack of sleep last night, and already weary of the conversation he knew they were going to have. "Please," he motioned to the chair next to the bed.
A long, narrow piece of parchment with dark, angular handwriting was lying on the bedside table, covering Remus' wand. "Is that the list of potions ingredients?" Dumbledore asked, picking it up and studying it.
Remus nodded. Then, drawing a deep breath, he said, "Madame Pomfrey spoke to you."
The bright blue eyes sparkled. "Of course. She wanted to know if she could go to Diagon Alley for some fresh turmeric, or if I wanted her to send Hagrid."
"I can't afford to pay for those things," Remus admitted, nodding toward the list.
"No one has asked you to do so," Dumbledore said gently.
There was a moment while the younger man considered his next words. "It was strongly suggested that perhaps I should."
"Remus, what Severus says is not what I –"
"Actually, sir, I have to say I agree with him on this particular issue."
"You would rather go without the potions that will make you well unless you can pay for them?"
"Yes, sir."
Dumbledore sat back and folded his hands in his lap. "Well, you have made your opinion known to me, and I will relay the message."
Remus tilted his head slightly. "'Relay the message'?"
"When Severus discussed his concerns with me about the ingredients in your potions, someone very kindly offered to pay for them."
Before Remus could respond, there was a soft popping noise, and a house elf appeared. She saw Dumbledore and her eyes widened. "Oh, I is sorry, Headmaster, sir! I is just stopping in to ask what Remus Lupin is wanting for lunch, sir."
"I'm not hungry," Remus said quickly, keeping his eyes on the Headmaster. "Who offered to pay?"
"That person would prefer to remain anonymous at this time," Dumbledore said. "Is there anything in particular you'd like for lunch? The stew was especially good today."
"Don't I have the right to know who I'm indebted to?" Remus countered.
The older wizard smiled at the house elf. "Janny, isn't it?" Her head bobbed up and down several times. "I think Remus Lupin would very much appreciate some beef stew and some of that delicious newly-baked bread."
"No, I told you —" Remus began.
Dumbledore held up his hand to stop him and said slowly but emphatically, "Janny, some beef stew and bread for Mr Lupin, if you'd please?"
The house elf gave Remus a wide-eyed glance then disappeared.
"Don't I have any say at all in anything that happens to me?" Remus exploded, picking up the book on his lap and tossing it rather carelessly to the bottom of the bed.
"When it comes to what needs to be done in order to get you well again, no," Dumbledore said firmly.
Anger slashed through Remus, as deeply and sharply as claws, and a growl vibrated deep in his throat.
"Control yourself, Remus," the Headmaster said to him. The order was delivered almost casually, but there was a tightening of the skin at the corners of the old wizard's eyes that made Remus realise that Dumbledore was slightly rattled.
Perhaps the wolf, sensing the older man's uncertainty, had more control than either of them knew, but Remus couldn't stop himself now if he wanted to. His eyes narrowed and he stared directly into the Headmaster's eyes. "You bring me here without asking me. You order Snape to make potions for me — when I know damned well he wants nothing to do with it, and I sure as hell don't want it either! You demand that I take your charity — and not once have you stopped to consider that I won't do this! Not once have you stopped to think I can't do this!" Remus' voice had risen with every word until he was yelling at Dumbledore as loudly as he'd ever yelled at anyone.
Dumbledore's eyes flashed angrily. "I will not let you die, though I'm sure you're going to stubbornly maintain that you have the right to decide to —"
Remus interrupted him. "You're no better than Bill Parsons. I'm nothing but a creature to you — a dumb, injured creature that needs to be healed at all costs. You'll shove the potions down my throat and —"
While the younger man spoke, the Headmaster rose to his feet and took a step closer to the bed. Towering over the werewolf, he demanded, "You dare compare me to Bill Parsons?"
"I do," Remus snapped. "You make choices that should be mine to make, and expect me to be thankful for it. You tell me where I should be, when I should eat, even —" he chuckled bitterly, "— what I should eat. And you expect me to lay here and just take it."
"Because you are too stubborn and too proud to accept that these are things that will help you! Are you so willing to suffer pain and the possibility of being permanently crippled for the sake of pride, Remus? Are you willing to die for the fault of your obstinacy?"
"I'm willing to die for the sake of being able to make a bloody choice for myself!" shouted Remus, hoarsely. "Gods, I can't even —"
At that moment, Janny popped into the room, holding a tray full of food in her tiny hands. She seemed to feel the tension in the room immediately and her ears flattened against her head.
Remus took one look at the tray and gave a ferocious snarl. His hand shot out, palm outward, and then moved straight up sharply.
It was as if someone jerked the tray out of the little being's hands. It flew up and over her head, smashing into the wardrobe and wall behind her.
For a moment, there was silence as all three of them stared at the mess of gravy and bits of beef and vegetables that dripped from the vertical surfaces into puddles on the floor.
Then Remus could feel his stomach lurch, and he twisted his body just in time to expel what remained of his breakfast onto the floor.
When he was finished, he collapsed where he was on the edge of the bed, his back turned to Dumbledore, unable and unwilling to face the older wizard.
His blood was still hot with anger, but now he turned the anger on himself. I lost control. I attacked a bleeding house elf! What is happening to me?
The implications were horrifying. His father had lectured him several times about controlling the feral, bloodthirsty being that always lay just below the surface of his consciousness. John Lupin had always warned him that every ounce of self-control that Remus lost would be devoured by the wolf. "It will be harder to take back what you give up," the elder Lupin had said. "Better to learn to control every thought, every word, every action, every thing now, because it will be damned near impossible to take back what you give up without fighting tooth and nail."
I lost my temper. I didn't even think… What is wrong with me?
And immediately after that, his body had reacted so violently, as if it were punishing him for daring to use magic at all…
I can't control my anger. I can't control what I'm doing…
A hand was placed gently on his shoulder. "Remus?"
James would try to talk me through this. Peter would tell me everything will be all right. Sirius would yell at me. But I can't do this anymore. It's too much for me.
He desperately wanted Lily and James here. If he had them back, Peter would be here as well. And if the three of them were here, then that would mean Sirius wouldn't have betrayed them, and he'd be here too. And, maybe, between the lot of them, they'd figure out why Remus wasn't… right. Maybe.
"Remus, say something."
If my Dad were here, he could explain to me why it's so difficult, why I can't make sense of anything. He could tell me why I'm so angry all the time. He'd help me get things — myself — under control. He always had the answers.
The hand shook him slightly. "Remus, you must say something."
Remus rolled onto his back and looked up into the worried eyes of Dumbledore. "I want my dad," he whispered. And then he started sobbing uncontrollably.
Dumbledore hesitated for just a moment. Remus had never been one for extreme emotional displays. The times when he had been openly emotional, whether furious or joyful or unhappy, were few and far between, and when they did appear, they were typically short in duration. Remus would somehow seem to 'catch' himself being emotional, and the mask of neutrality would slide back into place.
So, Dumbledore waited for just enough time to pass that made him realize that Remus was not going to be able to bring himself under control. Then he reached for the young man and pulled him up into a firm embrace and let him cry himself into exhaustion.
Monday, 16 September--1:37 a.m.
Madame Pomfrey carefully opened the door, but she hadn't needed to be as silent as she was. Remus was still sleeping, though not peacefully.
The frail light that she had allowed at the tip of the wand was just enough to shine on sweat-slicked skin, and he was muttering indecipherably. As she neared the bed, his good leg moved restlessly, and he gripped the blankets tightly in his long fingers.
"I can't…" he mumbled. "Don't…"
She reached for his shoulder, either to touch him lightly or to shake him out of the nightmare he was obviously having. Before she could, however, he whimpered loudly, cried out, "No!" and opened his eyes, instantly awake and panting as if he'd run for miles.
The light made him squint and look away from her. She lowered her wand and put her hand on his damp forehead. "Mr Lupin," she said quietly.
He spat out a harsh curse that sounded like it was coming from a throat lined with jagged glass, and jerked his head away from her touch.
She lit the lantern on the table and he winced, throwing his arm across his eyes to block the light. "Are you in any pain?" she asked gently, as she filled a glass with water.
He lowered his arm slowly. "Some," he admitted, still somewhat breathlessly.
She helped him sit up and handed the glass to him, although his hand was trembling and she wondered if perhaps she was making a mistake in not holding on to either the glass or his hand. But she also knew how impatient he became when he was denied the ability to do things on his own. Always a stubborn boy, Remus Lupin, and the man was even more so.
He drained the glass quickly, and when she handed him the pain potion, he took it without complaint or comment. As he did, she began rummaging in her carpetbag for something else. She took out a small vial and uncorked it carefully. "Here. Drink this one too."
"What's it for?"
"This one is to help you sleep."
"I don't need –"
"I know what you look like when you're exhausted," she told him. "And it's so dark around your eyes that it looks as if you're wearing a mask. It will also help you sleep without dreaming." She hesitated for a moment and then said quietly, "You need this."
He stared at her. "No dreams?"
"No."
He downed it without another question.
There. How's this chapter?