Remus left the headmaster's office and slowly walked down the spiral staircase, feeling as though reality was hiding behind drifts of mist which made everything seem distant and blurred. He staggered through the dark and empty corridors to his chambers, tired, slowly, not paying any attention to Peeves, who seemed to take much pleasure in knocking over every piece of armour in the castle.
Arriving at his rooms, he did not bother to light the fire but sat down in his wing chair, staring into the darkness. But he did not need any light to see the images of Malfoy and Severus before his inner eye. He did not even try to fight them off, knowing that the attempt would not be successful. Instead, he let them float by, once, twice, again, again and again. His body felt strangely numb, as though it did not really belong to him, and only vaguely was he aware of the tears which again were creeping down his cheeks. He did not know how long it took, but finally his mind reluctantly accepted the images as a part of reality, and bit by bit the world became less surreal, less distant, and his body and mind slowly returned to a more normal state until at last he felt that he again was capable of thinking.
Why? How could anyone – no! He cut the thought off. No. This would not lead him anywhere.
Another question, then, to occupy his mind with. Why did Albus think he was the right choice to help Severus with this? Yes, it seemed that he had come to like their appointments, but, now knowing what exactly was troubling Severus, Remus doubted that he would ever have opened up so much that Remus could have done anything for him. In almost sixteen years, Severus had not spoken once with the person he trusted most, so how could Albus ever hope that he would confide in Remus, of all people?
At first, after the incident at Grimmauld Place, Remus had thought Albus had chosen him because he had been the one who incidentally had witnessed Severus's nightmare and now was concerned about his colleague, but now he realised there must be more behind it.
'He needs an equal,' Albus had said. Someone to whom Severus did not owe a debt – unlike the headmaster. Well, Severus had spread his knowledge of Remus's lycanthropy two and a half years ago so that he had had to give up his position as teacher - now, Voldemort having returned, the parents were not interested in this fact at all, wanting their children to get the best DADA teaching possible - but in his heart Remus had long forgiven his colleague for doing so. A year later he would have quit the job anyway, Sirius having returned to Grimmauld Place at last and needing him there… With great effort, Remus put his mind off this thought. No, not this, not yet. He knew he would not be able to think of anything else, once he allowed himself to dive into this thread.
Back to Severus, then. No, Severus truly did not owe him, Remus thought bitterly. If anything, it was quite the other way round. He had watched passively for years as his friends had taunted their fellow student. Of course, after a while Severus had begun to retaliate upon them and had played pranks on them in return, but in the first place it had been them who had, without any provocation, begun picking on him. Back then at school Remus had done nothing to further the friendship that could have developed between them, had even tolerated his friends terrorising Severus because he had been too much of a coward to prevent them from doing what his conscience had told him was wrong. Not quite the perfect grounds for establishing a friendly contact with Severus now.
In thinking about this, he remembered something else. He had completely forgotten about the circumstances in which he and Severus had first met each other. He had not remembered that their first contact had been of a friendly nature - Severus helping him, smiling at him, talking to him during the seemingly endless ride on the train - and even the events during the Sorting had entirely vanished from his memory.
For a short moment a faint smile lit his face. Now that he had witnessed all this, he again remembered. He, holding hands with Severus Snape… it was a strange, while not appalling thought. The other boy's touch had felt good; it had provided him with security, something he had been badly in need for at that time. No, he decided, they were definitely good memories. At least to him – to Severus, it seemed, they were not. Or why was it that he apparently wanted to forget about them; why should they upset him that much that he needed to get rid of them, be it only for one night?
'I had forgotten about it, but Severus had not!' Otherwise the memories could not have been in the pensieve. Did this mean then… 'He remembered, and he hoped we could tie in with this, noticing that I wanted to spend time with him? Was this the reason why he agreed on meeting me? He didn't only meet me because he liked playing chess or whatever other reason there could have been - but because he really wanted to be with ME?'
Knowing that of course this was nothing but speculation, Remus, to his own astonishment, found himself enjoying the idea – until his thoughts came back to the present day's events. Great, then. This must be the reason why Severs now wanted to forget about it – because he, Remus, had crossly told him that he was not worthy of anyone's friendship and thereby had shattered his hope.
'Congratulations, Remus! Well done, indeed,' he thought gloomily. On the other hand – how should he have known about it, Severus being so damn secretive about anything concerning his feelings? And how was he supposed to become friends with a man who had nothing better to do than picking on Sirius, the man Remus had loved?
'It's because of Sirius that I forgot about the train and the sorting!' Suddenly the thought suggested itself, screaming for attention so loudly that he could not ignore it. And he had not forgotten about it, it occurred to him - this realisation cutting in even more pungently - no, he had chosen not to remember. He had shoved these events back into the last corner of his mind to be able to better tolerate his friends' and his lover's behaviour. Abruptly, Remus felt utterly disgusted with himself. How much of a hypocrite had he been?
Thinking about this, he remembered other things he had chosen to forget. How during the first weeks of their first year Severus would smile at him from the Slytherin table. How he would smile back until James had asked him why in the name of Merlin he would smile at the Slytherin git. How he would talk to Severus in the corridors, his friends standing some metres away and waiting impatiently. How he had stopped talking to Severus, pretending not to see the other boy approaching him. How within a year Severus's smiles had turned into scowls.
After wallowing in self-contempt for quite a time, Remus decided that this was leading him nowhere. Sighing deeply, he decided he would merely have to try to further whatever had developed between Severus and himself during the last weeks. He had promised to Albus that he would try, and now that he thought about it more deeply than before, when his only thought had been to escape the pain the realisations about Sirius had caused, he felt that he indeed did not want this to end. He had enjoyed Severus's presence far too much.
It was not that he did not spend some hours with other colleagues from time to time: he would occasionally meet over a cup of tea with Albus – and have one of the inevitable sherbet lemons – every now and then he would discuss the overlapping of DADA and Charms with Filius Flitwick, who seemed to have an obsession with cheese, as he always offered him some outright disgusting blue mould cheese, and sometimes he would even stop by Hagrid's cabin and have some of his unbelievably hard biscuits. But, as he now became aware, he had never enjoyed any of this the way he had enjoyed playing chess with Severus.
And… when had he begun thinking of him as 'Severus' instead of 'Snape'? Not that it felt bad, though… In front of the students they were supposed to call each other by their first names anyway, according to the golden rule that teachers should always show unity - though Severus had rarely followed this rule with him. Without any students present, however, the two of them had chosen to use their last names, thus carrying forward the habit they had developed during school.
'I used to call him Severus in first year,' he remembered. Only when his friends had continued pointing out how much they disliked the Slytherin, Remus had become used to calling him 'Snape', as they had done. Never 'Snivellus', the odious nickname James and Sirius had come up with.
Sirius… again. Soon he would not be able to repress the images, which would assail him every time he thought of his friend. Nevertheless, Remus managed to once more return to his initial question: why had Albus chosen him? Maybe, he thought, the appallingly plausible idea suddenly crossing his mind, maybe it was because the headmaster knew him to have some experience with severely traumatised persons? Maybe Albus thought him therefore capable of dealing with Severus's problems? Because he had lived with Sirius for several months, because he had had to deal with the after-effects of Azkaban…
Sirius had always maintained grim self-control when someone else was at Grimmauld Place – which was mostly when there was a meeting of the Order – as he had not wanted anyone to know, and especially not Harry. He had tried to force himself to again get accustomed to the presence of many people, but the trouble, the noise, the arguments – especially when all Weasleys were present – had often been too much, although he had always managed somehow to hide it from everyone but Remus. The latter would never oversee the tension in his friend's face, nor the slight quivering of his hands, or the smallest undertone in his voice.
When they were alone it was easier, for there was no need to pretend anything. Sirius was much quieter than before his imprisonment, and if Remus had not known him before, he would hardly have believed he had once been such a vibrant, energetic man. Sometimes, he would sit in front of the fireplace for hours, staring into the fire, not speaking nor moving at all.
And sometimes, in his mind, Azkaban had come back.
Staring into the unlighted room, Remus felt as though the darkness was becoming even thicker, blacker, as though there was a difference between just 'dark' and 'pitch-black', aroused by his own sombre thoughts. He felt cold, too, but he did not have the energy to summon a blanket to wrap himself up in or perform the simple spell it took to lit a fire. Instead, he crouched in his chair, shivering - whether with cold or something else he could not tell - as his thoughts began spiralling downward, like they always would when he was thinking of this.
'James, you know I didn't do it, don't you?'
'Sirius… it's me Remus…'
'What about Harry? He can't be… he's only a baby…'
'Sirius, Harry's fine, he's fifteen by now.'
'I couldn't know it… I couldn't know he would betray them… James? I didn't know, I'm so sorry.'
'It's alright, we all know it's not your fault. But I need you to come back now, Sirius. Please come back…'
'James? James…'
At the same time, Albus was sitting in his private rooms, thinking about the events of the evening. He wished it would not have come to this, because it deeply saddened him that he had felt it was necessary to betray Severus's trust that much. Moreover, he felt ashamed that he had manipulated Remus in such a way, even though the younger man had understood his reasons.
Well, this was not entirely true. While everything he had told Remus was the truth, he had left some things unspoken. It was right that Severus needed someone to help him – what the headmaster had not mentioned, though, was that, in his opinion, Remus needed a standby, too.
Ever since some weeks before last Christmas, Albus had been profoundly concerned about him.
It was a Saturday evening at the end of November. There had been a meeting of the Order in the afternoon, and by now everyone but Albus had left headquarters. He hoped to have the opportunity for a private talk with Remus, wondering if he could convince him to resume his position as Defence teacher, once Dolores Umbridge would have to leave - something he had no real doubt would happen sooner or later. And in his opinion, there was no one who was more qualified for this position than Remus Lupin.
He had just bidden farewell to Kingsley Shacklebolt and now made his way through the entrance hall to search for Remus. First he looked at the study, but, noticing it to be unlighted, he was about to turn and leave, when suddenly he heard a noise. It seemed to be a voice, whispering words he did not understand from the entrance. Its agonised tone, however, was easily to catch and caused the headmaster to step fully into the room.
"Incendio!" he commanded, pointing his wand at the fireplace. In the light of the fire that had flared up instantly, he now could make out a cowering form in a corner of the room. When he approached it, he identified it as Sirius Black, who had his face in his hands and was mumbling incoherently.
"Remus… I didn't mean to leave you, you know that, don't you? Michael is dead, he had leukaemia… it's all my fault… if I hadn't convinced them to chose Peter they'd be alive…"
Albus knelt down beside the younger man. "Sirius," he asked softly, "what is wrong?"
The cowering man did not react to the headmaster's presence but went on murmuring to himself. When Albus realised he would get no answer, he slowly took hold of Sirius's hands and gently pulled them away from his face. The younger man then raised his head and opened his eyes, but they were unfocused and glassy, seeing right through the old wizard, who again tried to gain his attention.
"Sirius, it is I, Albus. Would you please look at me?"
If possible, Sirius crouched even deeper into the corner, pulling away his hands from the headmaster's soft grip.
"No… no…" he whispered hoarsely, "no… Remus… please believe me… I'd never… Remus, please… Remus…"
He then began to constantly throb the back of his head against the wall – not hard enough to harm himself, but causing a thudding noise that made Albus wince. The headmaster decided that Sirius needed other help than his and quickly got up. He headed towards the door, but before he had fully arrived there, the man he had intended to call appeared in the door frame. Remus was looking worried and relieved at the same time when he saw the older man.
"Albus! Have you seen Sirius? I thought he would be in his room, but -"
"He is here," Albus quietly interrupted, "and he needs you now."
When he made way for Remus, the latter caught sight of his friend and took a sharp breath. Without any further words he immediately hurried through the room and crouched down beside Sirius, carefully seizing him by the shoulders.
"Sirius? It's me, Remus…"
Albus turned and walked out of the study, leaving the younger men to themselves. He knew that Remus could handle this alone - from the way that Remus had immediately understood the situation, Albus knew that this was not a singular incident. He went to the living room and sat down in an armchair, folding his hands across his stomach as he waited.
Two hours later, Remus finally entered the living room. He was looking tired, but there was an air of resoluteness around him as he began speaking.
"Sirius is sleeping now. I won't stay long…" here he hesitated for a moment before he went on, "he needs me to be with him. I just wanted to talk to you for a moment. You mustn't tell anyone, especially not Harry. Sirius doesn't want him to know. Harry needs someone he can rely on, someone he feels is there for him. He doesn't need another burden."
"I will not act against Sirius's wishes," Albus replied calmly. "But I think Harry would understand. They all would –"
"No!" the younger man cut him off sharply, his hands clenched to fists by his sides. "He doesn't need their pity!" His eyes, his raised voice, his bearing, they all spoke volumes.
"It is not pity that you are feeling for him." While the old wizard's tone was gentle, yet his words seemed to sting Remus like a dagger, for he opened his mouth, obviously about to lose his temper with the older man - and then, suddenly, his whole demeanour changed. His fists unclenched, his shoulders slumped, and slowly the expression of anger on his face gave way to one of resignation.
"No, it isn't," he replied softly, smiling a small, sad smile that deeply touched the old wizard.
"Remus, Azkaban… changes people," he tried, hoping to somehow be able to make the younger man speak about his sorrow. "You cannot expect -"
"I know!" Again anger flared up in Remus's voice, but it did not last. "I know," he repeated sadly. "I don't want to talk about it."
"I understand. But if you ever need someone to listen…"
Remus shook his head. Slowly, defeated. "I can't. Please."
Albus nodded. "I will leave now." He had given up his plan about asking Remus to someday teach again, knowing that the answer would be negative. As long as the man he loved needed him, Remus would never go anywhere else.
Since that day, the headmaster had not been able to stop worrying about the two men at Grimmauld Place. He knew that there was nothing he could do for Sirius, and he was sure that Remus would take care of his friend and former lover in the best way possible, giving Sirius everything he needed.
As to what Remus needed – that was something far more complicated. Albus understood that Remus did not want to talk about his situation, but he also knew that silence was not the right path to take. As long as Sirius had been alive, Albus had not tried to speak about the subject again – but he had watched Remus closely every time they had met. Several subtle changes in the younger man's appearance and demeanour had not gone unnoticed. Remus had grown a little less cheerful and a little quieter; his hair had greyed even more, and his bearing and movements sometimes revealed the weariness of someone who slowly, bit by bit, was being wrung dry of vitality. There had been an air of quiet acceptance around him that deeply saddened the headmaster. Had those two not suffered enough already?
After Sirius's death and due to Dolores Umbridge's leave, Albus had convinced Remus to once again take up the position as DADA teacher. Besides the fact that he still thought he was the first choice, he wanted to prevent the younger man from growing lonely at the dismal, empty house, where - of this he had had no doubt - Remus otherwise would have stayed. Again he had offered to listen if Remus should feel the need to talk, and again he had been rewarded with a fragile smile and a polite refusal.
"Thank you, Albus, but this is something I want to keep to myself for now. I'm… not ready to talk about it," the younger wizard had said. And then, whispering more to himself, "I don't think I'll ever be."
Albus sighed deeply when thinking about this conversation. Remus needed someone to talk to – not he, the headmaster, but a close friend, or someone who could take that position by and by. When he had asked Remus to keep an eye on Severus – mainly because he was worried about the latter – this thought had played along, he had to admit. Some people would call him manipulative, but, as Albus thought when he finally went to bed at about 3 o'clock in the morning, sometimes people needed some help to find the right path.
For Severus, the next week was hell. He had always supposed this place, with all those insufferable brats, was some kind of limbo he had been doomed to, but this week left no doubt about it.
Sunday he spent brooding in his chambers, after he had retrieved his memories in the morning – something he perfectly could have done without. In the afternoon he marked the essays for the next week, feeling almost none of the satisfaction he normally derived from covering the students' parchments with as much angry, crimson ink as possible, an extra prick of grim delight flaring up whenever he would mark a Gryffindor's work with a "P" or worse.
During the following days he tried to keep his mind occupied in order not to think about the events of the previous Saturday. It did not work at all. Every day he would find himself mulling over what had happened, and every time his anger at the world in general and himself in particular would increase.
During classes he would shoot the most penetrating glares at everyone who dared so much as to breathe too loudly, and by Friday every house, even Slytherin, had lost a considerable amount of points. And, as always, Potter had been a particular nuisance.
How would the brat ever hope to become an Auror if he was not even able to follow simple instructions on a board? Severus had merely snorted unbelievingly when he had read the Gryffindor's reason for taking Potions as a N.E.W.T. subject – something every of his students had to write down and hand in at the beginning of the term – and on Wednesday afternoon he had again found his assumption confirmed.
The sixth year students had been supposed to brew the Wolfsbane Potion, which was exceedingly difficult, and he had not seriously expected any of them to do it correctly. The slightest mistake in the amount of the ingredients, the order they were added or the temperature of the liquid, would either turn the potion ineffective – or blow up the cauldron within a second. Of course Potter had chosen the latter possibility, splattering the whole classroom and almost every of his fellow students with hot, purple liquid. After Severus had dismissed more than half of the class to the infirmary, he had positioned himself in front of Potter's desk, glaring daggers at his – after Longbottom's departure after fifth year – most incompetent student.
"I do by no means understand, Mr. Potter, how you managed to creep in my N.E.W.T.s class," he had hissed, adding weight to every single word. "Considering the single working brain cell in that thick head of yours, it is a miracle that you should have done so well in your O.W.L. test without cheating."
He had hoped for the Gryffindor to contradict him, but the boy had merely stared back at him from dull, green eyes, which had upset Severus even more. Potter had behaved that way since the beginning of the term, looking pale and bleary-eyed, shuffling through the corridors like some kind of zombie, pecking listlessly at his food and sitting apathetically and absent-mindedly in his, Severus's, classes. It had taken Severus by surprise that the boy had been in so good a shape at the Quidditch match, considering his poor condition.
Yes, Severus, against common belief, paid close attention to the precious Boy-Who-Lived. How in the name of Merlin should this spoiled brat, who seemed to be bathing in self-pity, ever defeat the second powerful wizard in the world? And to grant the safety of this pathetic excuse for a saviour Severus risked his sanity and life whenever he followed the summoning of the Dark Lord!
Severus had rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Detention, Potter," he had snarled. "Clean this mess! Without magic. Rest of the class – dismissed!"
"Yes, Professor," Potter had replied in a low voice and, under the sympathetic glances of his leaving fellow students, had slowly begun mopping up the liquid on the floor.
On Friday evening, Severus was sitting in his living room by the fireside, brooding. If it had been a normal Friday – how easily he had come to accept the meetings with Lupin as something normal in his life! – it would only be fifteen minutes until he would leave for his colleague's rooms. But not today. Nor the following Friday, nor any other day.
Severus scowled at the small fire, willing it to emit more warmth, as he was slightly cold and not feeling well at all. He should probably eat more and, of course, sleep more, but during the last week the mere thought of food had sickened him even more than usual, and at night he often would not even be able to fall asleep. He had tried to convince himself that his being in conflict with Lupin did not play along in this, but deep down inside he knew it was a lie.
During those few last weeks he had spent more time with Lupin than with any other person during the last several years. Although they had not talked much besides their moves, Severus had, as he had to admit, enjoyed the other man's presence. He had even found himself looking forward to their appointments. Lupin's calm manner, the soothing air he seemed to have around him, his friendly smiles… all these had somehow touched Severus, had made him wish to befriend the man. Just like he had wished to do so many years ago at school…
But of course, now as then, this had been a downright ridiculous idea, as he now had to admit. Why should Lupin ever want to mess about with him? Especially now, after what he had said about Black, this insolent mutt, whose death he did not bemoan at all. Well, of course Black had not really deserved to die… and it certainly was not beneficial to their purpose that Potter had lost his – however incompetent – godfather… and, first of all, Lupin had lost the man he loved. It must have been very hard for him after just having found him again.
'Wait - do I actually care about Lupin's well-being?' Hell was freezing over.
'And why not? Lupin seemed to care about you, too.' Yes, this was something he had in vain tried to understand during the last weeks. Why had Lupin wanted to spend time with him in the first place?
'Friendship and love, those are things you never had and never will have. And no wonder no one wants to mess about with you…' Severus knew this was true, and as Lupin obviously was of the same opinion, why the hell had he invited him, why had he cared?
Severus clenched his fists, his body tensing up as he tried to banish every emotion from his mind and heart. There was no point in allowing himself to brood over it, he told himself. These were nothing but futile questions, a waste of time and energy. It was over, and he should simply forget about it, lock it in some distant corner of his mind and throw the key away.
Control yourself. Think rational. Be productive. Be useful.
He forced himself to breathe slowly and deeply. Think rational. No disturbing emotions. No futile questions.
After some time, it worked. Bit by bit, Severus managed to brush aside the irritating feelings and thoughts. He felt a strange kind of calm take him over – strange, because he did not really feel relieved, as he had thought he would, but rather… as if he had lost something that was important to him, although he did not know why, or what this would be.
Just when he asked himself what the hell this could mean, he heard someone ask if he was at home. Since he had been too absorbed with his thoughts, he had not recognised the person's voice. Who would want to visit him? he wondered.
"Enter!" he said curtly, getting up from his chair and turning towards the entrance.
The portrait that guarded the entrance swung open, and Severus's breath caught. He had expected anyone but the man who was now entering his quarters, smiling as his eyes fell on the Potions Master. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, Severus found his voice again.
"Lupin!"