Chapter 16 – Admissions
On Wednesday morning, the day after the full moon, Severus felt every bit as pathetic as he had during the last two days. Partly, that was due to lack of sleep, since he'd slept even less than usual. During the first two nights, every time he'd tried going to bed, all that had happened was that he'd lain awake and started brooding over the situation with Lupin, then dozed off for a few minutes, only to wake up again soon after. This night, he hadn't even bothered trying anymore and had instead worked all night long on the Imperius Potion. In only a week or two, he would be able to perform a second test series – an idea that made his stomach clench.
Now it was seven in the morning, and an hour ago, he'd stopped working and started pacing restlessly in front of his fireplace, interrupted by short periods of sitting in the armchair and staring into the fire. All night long, he'd managed to keep his worries at bay by concentrating on his work, but now, it had finally become impossible.
Had it happened again tonight? This question was all that he could think of. Had the werewolf again overcome the potion that was meant to restrain him? Had he taken out the feelings of guilt, which Lupin usually managed to suppress, on himself?
And why the hell did Severus even care? Lupin had lied to him, had betrayed his trust and destroyed the tentative friendship between them – and yet Severus was worried sick about him now! He should waste no further thought on him instead of losing sleep over the man. That he was much more concerned for Lupin than angry at him made him, in turn, feel irritated and angry with himself.
It was in this less than cheerful mood that he finally entered the Great Hall for breakfast. Without his doing, his eyes immediately fell on Lupin's empty seat, which – ridiculous thought! – seemed to be staring at him accusingly.
"What are you doing here?" it appeared to ask "Why aren't you in the infirmary with him?"
Severus looked away from the chair and sat down next to Albus, who didn't look particularly well himself. He met the old wizard's "Good morning" with silence, which prompted a sigh from Albus.
"You're probably right; it is not a good morning, after all."
"What do you mean?" Severus reached for the teapot, determined not to let the headmaster's words touch him, even if they should be about Lupin, of which he had little doubt.
"Remus is in the infirmary right now," Albus now confirmed his thoughts. "Poppy informed me of it just before breakfast. It's much worse than last time."
Worse! Severus refused to react, staring into his cup silently. But his mind was racing. Last month, Lupin had been mauled badly enough – Severus still vividly remembered the thick bandages and Lupin's drawn, pained face when he'd first visited him. Even with the help of magical healing, Lupin hadn't been able to move freely for two weeks. And now it was even worse than that? And what would happen in a month's time? It was impossible that Lupin could endure this more often than just a few times without ending up seriously damaged.
"He won't be able to teach for at least two weeks, I suppose," Albus went on, "but you need not worry about taking over his classes. You have too much work already, and I shouldn't have asked it of you this year at all. I will take his place in the classroom."
"Thank you." Severus had expected to be teaching Defence once more, and he hadn't been able to imagine how he would have managed.
'Especially now, without Lupin being there to make you feel better,'a little voice in his mind whispered. He tried to shut it up by concentrating on the food, and for the rest of the meal, Albus didn't try to talk to him again.
Only when the old wizard had finished and got up to leave did he speak again. "Poor Remus," he murmured, just loud enough for Severus to hear. "That's not the kind of birthday you would wish on anyone."
.-.-.-.
In the late afternoon, after the last class was over, Severus staggered back to his quarters in a zombie-like daze. His vision was blurry, his steps shaky, and more than once, he had to steady himself against the wall in order to prevent his ridiculously wobbly knees from giving in. He'd known that he would have to pay for burning the candle at both ends during the last weeks, but he'd preferred not to think about it. Today it had finally happened, most likely because of him going without sleep for three nights in a row. Severus could be glad that he hadn't fainted in class.
He felt so weak that even the Glamour Charm was gone, but he hadn't been able to care about the students' astonished – and in some cases even worried – looks. He had been too exhausted by far, and moreover, he'd hardly been able to take his thoughts off Lupin for more than five minutes.
He knew that Albus had intended to make him feel guilty – and he hated the fact that he had succeeded. After the old wizard's remark about it being Lupin's birthday, Severus had had to think of his own birthday, of the pleasant time spent with Lupin, and the gift the man had made him. Despite the panic attack he'd had that evening, it had been one of the best birthdays he had ever had.
Lupin, instead, would spend his in a bed in the infirmary, badly injured and alone if not for Albus and Potter, who might visit him for a little while. Severus had resolved not to care, but he was failing miserably.
Finally, after a way that seemed to be ten times as long as usual, he reached his quarters. He croaked the password and stumbled inside, somehow found his way to the bedroom, and then collapsed on the bed. Within less than a minute, he had fallen asleep.
.-.-.-.
"Severus!"
Someone was calling him. Severus groaned and turned in his sleep. He didn't want to wake up. He was tired. He wanted to sleep.
"Severus!"
A familiar voice. He clutched the pillow pressed to his chest tighter. It didn't matter. Whoever it was, they could wait.
"Severus, you will listen to me or I'll go to your lab and smash all your precious little vials on the floor!"
Within a second, Severus's eyes were open – and he found himself staring at an all too well-known face. One that he'd never want to see in his personal rooms, not to mention his bedroom. Severus sat up hastily, the intruder watching him.
"But you're dead!" was all Severus managed to croak after staring in shock for several more seconds.
"You're right," the other man agreed, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
This was making no sense at all. "Then how did you get back? Are you a ghost? And what the hell would you want from me, of all people?"
"That's a lot of questions." Sirius Black grinned, apparently amused by Severus's confusion. "But that's not what we need to talk about," he went on in a more earnest tone. "It's you. I'm quite worried about you, you know."
Maybe Severus was hallucinating. Yes, that must be it. "You're not real," he declared. "If you were, you wouldn't say such a thing. You'd tell me to die already!"
"Oh, I'm quite real. It's just that I'm not who you think I am."
Now, that was logical. "So, you're telling me I'm not hallucinating Sirius Black sitting in my bedroom and telling me that he's worried about me. Good. Instead, someone who looks like Black, but isn't him, is sitting in my bedroom, telling me he's worried about me. Did I get this right?"
"Exactly."
Severus's head felt ready to explode. If he weren't so tired, and if this didn't feel like some bizarre dream, he would have been livid by now.
"I have neither the time nor the nerve for such nonsense!"
"All right, no need to get upset." Black – or whoever he was – raised both hands in a placatory gesture. "You want to know what's happening – that's perfectly understandable. Who I am? I'm your subconscious."
Dumbfounded, Severus stared.
Then he lay down and closed his eyes again. Obviously, his sleep-deprived mind was playing tricks on him. Or maybe spending so many years in rooms where the air was saturated with the fumes of potions had proven to be detrimental to his mental health. There was no other explanation.
"Hey, at least look at me while we're talking!"
Severus didn't answer. He could just go to sleep again, and when he'd wake up in the morning, he would have recovered, and the hallucination would be gone.
"Oh, but that won't work," the other man said. "You are already sleeping."
Severus sighed without opening his eyes. "So, let's summarise: I'm sleeping. In my dreams, my subconscious - that for some unfathomable reason impersonates a dead enemy of mine - is paying me a visit. And of course, it's able to read my thoughts. Is that it?"
"That's about right, although it sounds kind of ridiculous when you put it like that." If he had bothered to look, Severus was sure he could have seen Black (he had decided to conveniently call him that) pouting.
"Well, this is ridiculous, no matter how you put it."
"How about putting it like this: you know very well that you're about to make a huge mistake, but you're too proud and too scared to admit it, even to yourself." Black suddenly sounded more serious than Severus had ever heard the real man speak before.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Oh, of course not. You don't eat, you haven't been sleeping for three days, you're running around Hogwarts like a zombie – and don't even care that everyone can see you like that – and you're asking yourself how on earth you'll manage in the future without Remus's help. But you won't go to him and try to set things right. Now tell me that's not a mistake, and a completely idiotic one."
"It's he who made the mistake! He lied to me!" Severus had opened his eyes and sat up again. "How could I trust him now?"
"So, you've never lied to people before? And you've always given everyone reason to trust you? Don't be so childish!"
"I'm not -"
"Severus, listen to me!" Black was leaning forward and staring intently at him. "Albus had no reason at all to trust you in the beginning, but he took the risk. Think about where you'd be now if he had thought like you do. And Remus – he doesn't care that you were a Death Eater, that you're still murdering people, even if you don't want it, that you're about the most unfriendly person, and that you treated him like shit when he worked here three years ago. Apart from Albus's help, he's the best thing that ever happened to you. You don't really want to throw all that away just because you can't allow others to be human and make mistakes just like you."
Severus wanted to answer but found that he couldn't. The words had hit too close to home.
"Go to him," Black said. "Listen. Let him apologise, let him explain. You owe him at least that much, don't you think? You were watching him during the last two days, and he was looking pathetic. As if he missed you just as much as you miss him. And if you're honest with yourself, seeing him in pain bothers you at least as much as the idea of him lying to you does."
And then, without a warning, Black disappeared.
.-.-.-.
Severus awoke with a throbbing head and an unpleasant taste in his mouth. He managed to crack his eyes open and looked at the watch on the bedside table. Two hours. He groaned. Why couldn't he have slept any longer after he'd practically fainted from exhaustion?
But now that he was awake, he vaguely remembered that there was something that he was supposed to do . . . only that he didn't know what. He rubbed his eyes and forehead to get rid of the exhaustion, and slowly, it came back to him. Lupin . . . he should visit him in the infirmary.
But wait, that was nonsense! He knew perfectly well that he'd made no such plans before falling asleep. So why - and then he remembered. Black, claiming to be his subconscious, telling him he was worried, telling him to reconcile with Lupin. That had to be the most ludicrous dream he'd ever had, Severus thought sourly. Maybe the pressure resting on his shoulders was too much, and he was truly going insane now. An anthropomorphic manifestation of his subconscious was absurd enough, but why did it have to be Black, of all people? The man would never have wanted him anywhere near Lupin. All of this made no sense whatsoever.
Still, he couldn't just ignore the whole thing; even though it was bizarre, the apparition in his dream had been right with everything it had said. Severus had managed to suppress these thoughts during the last days, and if they had sneaked into his mind, they had stayed vague enough to ignore them. But now that they had been verbalised, even only in a dream, there was no further ignoring them.
He'd been right in being angry about being lied to, but refusing to talk to Lupin and let him explain had been hypocritical. If everyone were as unforgiving as he had resolved to be in this affair, Severus would be rotting in Azkaban now. He felt guilty at this thought - and maybe that was the explanation: he'd had a guilty conscience, and it had expressed itself in the dream. And that it had been Black - well, he and Lupin had been lovers. It wasn't entirely illogical that the voice defending Lupin should take this form. At least that was the most useful explanation Severus could come up with.
He dragged himself to his feet, and for a moment, the room swayed before his eyes; then, after some furious blinking, it settled down to normal. It was only seven in the evening, and maybe Lupin was awake and strong enough to talk to him. He considered trying to cast the Glamour Charm, but decided against it. The effort might very well make him too weak to leave. He would have to hope that everyone was in the Great Hall for dinner and he would meet nobody in the corridors.
When Severus left his quarters, he felt an odd mixture of reluctance and hope. What had Albus told him once? Doing the right thing was often much harder than doing the wrong, but it always proved to be worth it. He could only hope that the old man had been right about that.
.-.-.-.-.
Lupin was looking even worse than he had a month ago: again, bandages were wrapped around his head and chest, and the skin that could be seen was covered in scratches and bruises. He had a black eye – had he run into a piece of furniture? – and deep lines of pain were etched around his mouth.
Severus didn't want to see Lupin like this, so weak, so hurt. It made himfeel weak and hurt as well, but in a way he hadn't really known before. It made him want to protect Lupin, to make sure that this could never happen again – and that he couldn't say for certain that he would be able to do it made him feel angry and helpless at once. These feelings were so strong and so disturbing that Severus had to fight the impulse to turn and leave simply in order to escape them. Instead, he sat down on the chair beside the bed. He would wait here for an hour, he decided, and if Lupin wouldn't wake up during that time, he'd come back in the morning before breakfast.
About half of that time had gone by, and Severus felt more tired with every minute. It was only with great effort that he managed to keep his eyes open, when suddenly, he meant to see a movement. He straightened himself and rubbed his eyes to clear his vision, and found that he had been right.
Lupin seemed to be awaking; he turned his head a few times, and then slowly opened his eyes. As soon as they were open, he groaned weakly and closed them against the light, trying to raise a trembling hand to his face. He didn't have the strength to do it, though, and it fell back on the blanket after just a few inches.
"Lupin?" Severus leaned forward a little, closer to the other man. "Can you hear me?"
Hearing him talk, Lupin opened his eyes again, which were unfocussed and bloodshot, and after a few moments of wandering, they finally settled on Severus. A weak smile lit up his face.
"Sirius . . . "
Sirius? Severus felt completely taken aback for a moment. What the hell was this supposed to mean? Lupin wasn't truly confusing him with Black, was he? Then his eyes fell on the bedside table and the large amount of flasks and vials on it. He knew that due to the extent of Lupin's injuries, Madam Pomfrey had been forced to use strong healing potions and equally potent painkillers. Lupin must be so completely drugged that it was actually not astonishing that he was hallucinating.
And under those circumstances, thinking that he was Black wasn't strange, Severus rationalised. After all, it was Black who was the reason for Lupin being injured in the first place. It was no wonder that his thoughts were lingering with the dead man.
He opened his mouth to say something, see if he could make Lupin realise who he really was, but the other man was quicker.
"Sirius . . . I'm such an idiot." His voice was only a weak whisper, but even so Severus could hear the sadness in it, and he wished he could make it disappear. That feeling was much stronger than the fleeting inclination to agree with Lupin's words.
"You're not," he said.
"Yes, I am," Lupin insisted. "Just listen, will you? I . . . I know you're not real, but it still would be nice to have someone to talk to, even if it's just a dream."
"All right." Severus felt uncomfortable with the idea, but he didn't have the heart to say no. This seemed so important for Lupin. "Tell me, then."
Lupin sighed. "I don't even know what to say . . . because that's all there really is to it. I'm an idiot and a coward. I've always been one. I didn't stop you and James from bullying Severus at school, even when I thought it was disgusting, because I was scared to lose you. Isn't that pathetic? He and I could have been friends for so long . . . if I hadn't screwed it up."
Lupin closed his eyes again, looking even more tired than he had when he'd woken up. Just those few minutes seemed to have exhausted him greatly.
"And now . . . now that we got another chance, I made the same mistake again. How could I be so stupid? I didn't mean to betray his trust, I just . . . I was afraid." Lupin's voice was shaking by now. "I didn't think he could take it - me seeing him like that; it was just too early. I feared he'd never want to see me again if I told him what really happened. I didn't want to lose him. But I just might have, and it's my own fault. Because I was a bloody coward again."
Severus had never seen Lupin so crushed before, and he wished he didn't right now. It made him feel almost nauseous with sympathy.
"I'm . . . scared," Lupin murmured. "I'm scared that it's all over now, and I . . . I can't stand the idea. Severus is . . . the only one I can really talk to, not like Harry or Albus. I didn't even know anymore how that feels – to have a friend to talk to. Someone you know you can trust with, things you couldn't tell others."
Lupin took a deep breath, but it actually sounded more like a sob to Severus. It was the last straw, and without even realising what he was doing, he took Lupin's hand, which was lying on the blanket, in his own.
"Don't," he said quickly, without thinking about the words. "Don't get so upset over him; he's not worth it!"
Lupin smiled feebly. "That's so typically you. Aren't you supposed to become wiser when you're dead? Leave old grudges behind?" Then he added in a more serious tone, "You wouldn't say that if you really got to know him. He's nothing like the nasty person he pretends to be. And he's more than worth getting upset over having hurt him."
Severus didn't answer for some moments. All this was almost too much to digest at once. He'd known that Lupin was feeling bad about the situation – it had been obvious from the man's behaviour during the last days – but Severus had had no idea about the depth of his feelings. It made him feel pleased and uncomfortable at the same time. One thing, though, he now knew for sure: Lupin needed him just as much as Severus needed Lupin.
"He might still change his mind," he finally said. "Realise he overreacted."
"Not very likely." Lupin now sounded just exhausted and resigned. "He'd just begun trusting me, I think, and that's a miracle in itself. Then he discovered I lied to him. I don't believe he could get over that so quickly. And I can't blame him. I just . . . I wish I could tell him I'm sorry."
With every pessimistic word from Lupin, Severus felt increasingly helpless. Luckily, the other man fell silent now, and after several minutes, he seemed to have fallen asleep, his chest rising and falling lightly with regular breaths.
Severus, only now noticing that he was holding Lupin's hand, was about to let go, when the other man's fingers weakly curled around his.
"Sirius?"
"Yes?"
"There's more."
More? What else did he want to tell Black? Severus didn't really feel up to more of this. He didn't want to pretend being Black anymore, and he didn't want to see Lupin miserable anymore. All that he wanted was a quiet hour or two to think about what had happened. Alone.
"I think...I'm in love with Severus."
The barely audible words made Severus's every thought stop dead. He stared down at Lupin – at thick bandages and red scratches, at too grey hair, a too worn face, and eyes closed in exhaustion – and for a single, vague second, a possible answer seemed to flash at the back of his mind, and a feeling so wild and warm and rightlike he had never thought it possible.
But it vanished as soon as it had come – or maybe he had pushed it away out of instinct and fear– and he stayed silent, speechless.
"I didn't even realise it before," Lupin went on. "Just . . . after he'd left that evening. When it was too late. And now, I'll be again stuck watching the man I love and wishing things had been different, just like with you."
That last part confused Severus even more, but he refused to think about it. He was too overwhelmed as it was.
Finally, he managed to speak. "You mustn't worry so much," he got out. "You're tired. Sleep now."
Lupin sighed. "If only that were so easy, not worrying."
"Sleep." Severus tightened his hold on Lupin's hand. "I . . . everything will be all right, in the end. Believe me."
"I'd like to." Lupin smiled weakly. "Thank you."
It seemed that Severus had managed to comfort Lupin at least a little, and after this, it took only a few minutes before the man had fallen asleep again. Severus didn't leave then, however, but just kept holding Lupin's hand, watching him sleep for a long while.
.-.-.-.-.
Severus's first clear impression was of someone screaming, but it wasn't until the screams turned into moans and sobs that he realised that it was him making those noises. And only now did he notice that there were arms around him, that he was being rocked and talked to gently.
". . . over now, you needn't be scared any more. Calm down, Severus, calm down. I'm here now, dear, I'm here. It was just a dream . . ."
He didn't know what he'd been dreaming, but it had left him in cold terror, and the mere idea of remembering made him immediately arch closer to the source of warmth and comfort.
"Sshh . . . I'm here, Severus, dear, it's all right."
It was a female voice, soft and soothing, and Severus trusted it instinctively. In the past, it had provided him with comfort and safety so often, and although that had been many years ago, he'd never forgotten how it had felt.
The terrifying impressions of whatever had been haunting his dreams slowly faded away as he listened to more soft words and endearments, until in the end, he was no longer crying. But even now, he still stayed where he was for a little while, his eyes closed, face buried against a soft chest, unwilling to leave the pleasant sensation of being held behind. Then, the slow rocking finally came to an end.
"Are you feeling better now?"
Severus cringed inwardly. He was finally fully lucid and knew who the other person was – and that it would be a very awkward situation. Slowly, he opened his eyes and sat up. He found that he was still in the infirmary, which was lit by just a few candles, and Madam Pomfrey, who had by now let go of him, was sitting at the edge of his bed, looking at him with concern.
Severus suddenly felt hot with embarrassment. He didn't know what to say, so he finally settled on the most logical question.
"Why am I here?"
Her expression changed from concerned to disapproving.
"You fell asleep at Remus's bedside, although 'fainting' would be the more correct expression. I'd been at dinner when you came, and after that, Albus came here with me to have a look at Remus. We found you on the floor, sleeping. You didn't even notice that you fell from the chair, did you?"
Severus shook his head. The last thing he could remember was watching Lupin sleep – and then he'd awoken in her arms.
"I'd guessed so. You didn't wake up either when I ran a check-up on you."
Severus wanted to say something, but was cut short by her.
"No, don't you dare complain! The results were appalling. You're underweight, your blood-pressure is ridiculously low, your body is completely exhausted, and it's a miracle that you haven't had a circulatory collapse yet."
As she went on, her voice was firm, showing she would have no discussion.
"I know there isn't much that can be done about it, but I forbid you to work for the rest of the week. The students won't die from not having Potions classes tomorrow and on Friday. You'll stay here until Sunday evening and do nothing but rest and eat reasonably."
Severus knew that it was useless to protest. It was Madam Pomfrey's right to declare a teacher unfit for teaching, and if she did, he was forbidden to act against it. And he knew that she was right with what she had said. Today, he had realised on his own that he was at the end of his rope. Another night and day like the previous ones, and he would have collapsed in some corridor or during class.
But she couldn't force him to stay in the infirmary, since he could very well leave for his own rooms and recover there. He already wanted to say it when he thought better of it. If he were to stay alone in his quarters during the next four days, he was sure he wouldn't rest as much as necessary, and he would probably also forget to eat regularly. Severus knew himself well enough to realise that if he wanted to recover at least a little, he would have to stay here, under her supervision. He did not like it, but it was necessary.
"All right," he agreed, lowering himself on the mattress. "I'll do as you say."
"Good. Tomorrow, I'll give you something for your blood-pressure and for stabilising your metabolism. You've been having dizzy spells and blurry vision, right?"
Severus nodded, barely able to suppress a yawn. As soon as he had lain down, he'd felt once again how exhausted he really was.
"Try to sleep now." She hesitated, then added in a much softer tone, "I'll be here when you need anything. You needn't worry about more dreams."
Severus didn't answer at first. He'd been hoping they might be able to avoid this subject and instead just stick to the mere facts.
"I don't want you to stay awake," he said in the end. After he'd come here from Azkaban, she'd done that regularly, watching over his sleep when he'd had a particularly bad day. Albus had employed a second nurse during that time, so that Madam Pomfrey had been able to concentrate almost completely on Severus. He'd never understood why she would waste so much time on him, but she had insisted on it, and after a while, he'd stopped asking.
"So you'd rather have been alone with that dream?"
"I . . ." Severus fell silent again. Out of instinct, he would almost have said yes, but it would have been a lie, and for some reason, he didn't want to lie about this. Not anymore, not to someone who was so concerned about him.
He'd been lying on his back, but now he curled up on his side with a frustrated sigh. So much had changed; he had changed so much, and it confused and frightened him. Over the years, he'd become so used to shielding himself against other people's emotions, and his own feelings of hurt and fear had been perfectly buried under many layers of coldness and sarcasm, invisible to anyone. But now, he found it so much harder to pretend, especially toward Albus – and now also Madam Pomfrey. Damn Lupin for making this happen, for making him soften up so much, for making him vulnerable!
"Severus, dear..."
"Don't call me that!"
"I'm sorry. I just remembered how much you used to like it."
She was right, that was the worst thing about it.
The time he had spent here after Albus had saved him from Azkaban had been full of anguish and shame, but at the same time, it had ironically been one of the best times in his life. Being held and comforted, caressed and spoken to softly, those were things Severus had never had after his mother's death when he'd been small. Despite being ashamed for his weakness, he'd relished every gentle touch, every kind word – also the few ones he had ever allowed Albus.
Later, after he had begun teaching, he'd tried to forget about the positive aspects, had tried to concentrate only on how embarrassing it was that he had needed her so much. He'd forced himself to be cold and indifferent, to despise how he had felt during that time, because there had been no other way to make him stop longing for her comfort and understanding.
It hadn't always worked, and during his first year as a teacher, he'd often found himself sitting in his cool and lonely rooms, wishing to hear her voice, to feel her hand around his, to have her help him coping with his anger and pain. A few times, he had ended up in the infirmary on such evenings, unable to tell her what he needed or even look her in the eye, but she had understood and held him until he'd fallen asleep. Most of the time, though, his shame and fear of closeness had won out, and he had stayed in the dungeons, alone – until finally, he hadn't been able anymore to open up even to her, and the irregular visits had stopped completely.
Severus had preferred not to think of it, to try and forget all this, but now, in this state of physical and mental exhaustion and with her so near, it had become impossible.
There had been silence for some time, but now Severus heard her clothes rustle, and then felt her hand on his forehead. She didn't take it away when he flinched slightly, and when he forced himself to hold still, her cool fingers felt pleasant on his hot skin.
"You needn't be ashamed," she said, and while he knew that she was right, he still couldn't help it. "Nobody will ever know beside us. And even if he noticed, Remus wouldn't tell anyone, am I not right?"
"Yes." He had gathered all his willpower to speak, and the hoarsely murmured word was more than just an answer to her question. It was all he could do to admit that he needed her, and while he still hated this whole situation, he also hoped that she would understand.
After a while, she took her hand away, but before he could really feel the loss, it was on his head, smoothing down his hair that was messy from sleeping, and then on his shoulders and back – a light, feathery touch, caressing, soothing. Severus hadn't realised how tense he had been, and how tightly curled up, until he slowly relaxed under her touch.
Drifting off already, he heard her say, "Sleep, dear," and he couldn't find it in himself to feel angry or embarrassed – just warm, and tired, and grateful. Maybe, was his last thought before fully falling asleep, maybe it had been stupid of him to shut her out for so long.
.-.-.-.
When Severus woke up in the morning, it was unusually late for him. The clock on the wall showed 9.30am, and for the first time in weeks, he felt almost well rested. Looking around, he saw that his bed was just next to Lupin's, who was still - or again - sleeping deeply.
When he sat up, Severus saw a tray on the bedside table, containing a small bowl of porridge, a toast with marmalade, and...a glass of pumpkin juice!
"Stop scowling, Severus. There will be no coffee or tea for you as long as you're here."
He turned around and saw Madam Pomfrey approach his bed, apparently just coming from her office.
For some seconds, Severus felt embarrassed and unsure of how to behave. He'd had another nightmare in the course of the night, and it was one of the worst he could remember ever since he had begun teaching. He had awoken drenched in sweat, shaking, and retching violently, and had ended up vomiting what little he'd eaten the day before over the nurse, who had been trying to calm him down. After she had magically cleaned everything, he had been too ashamed to talk to her and had just let her rock him back to sleep.
"And don't even think about leaving anything – I want to see this tray empty in half an hour."
Noticing that he was actually hungry, Severus found that the easiest way to deal with the situation was to turn to his breakfast, and so he took the tray and placed it on his lap.
"Good." She sat down on the chair beside his bed and watched as he ate the fist spoonful of porridge. "When you're finished, I'll give you your medication, and if you like, you can ask a house-elf to get you something to read from your rooms. But no work, and you won't read all day long. You'll have breaks to rest or even nap, do you understand?"
Severus nodded obediently and ate another spoonful. Even if he had wanted to, there was little sense in trying to object, since he knew she was right. And once he'd accepted someone's authority in a certain matter, he had never found it particularly difficult to follow their orders – that was something that his father had drilled into him perfectly.
"Remus woke up two hours ago," Madam Pomfrey went on. "He was worried when he saw you were here."
Severus had to look over to the other man again, who didn't look any better than yesterday. It was typical for Lupin to worry about him even when he was in such a sorry state, Severus thought. The idea made a silly warmth rise in his chest, and he hastily looked away from Lupin again.
"I know something went wrong between the two of you." Now she sounded concerned herself. "He said something about it in his sleep. Will you talk to him later?"
"I . . . yes, but I don't want to talk about it with anyone else."
"All right." She smiled, and he was glad that she knew better than trying to pry. When he'd finished eating, she gave him two potions to drink. After that, she disappeared in her office again, while Severus ordered a house-elf to bring him some light reading to kill time until Lupin would wake up.
.-.-.-.
It was about two hours later when Severus heard a sound from the bed next to his. Laying his book aside, he saw that Lupin was awake and holding his head with one hand, a pained expression on his face. He might very well need something for the pain, Severus thought, but he decided not to call Madam Pomfrey. Instead, he got up and stepped over to Lupin's bed.
"Do you need a painkiller?"
Lupin looked up at him in surprise. He apparently wanted to say something, but then just closed his eyes again and nodded – a mistake, as the pained groan that followed indicated.
There was a spoon on the bedside table, and among the vials, Severus recognised one as containing the potion that was needed. Within a few moments, he was holding a spoonful to Lupin's lips.
"Here. Be careful and don't spill it."
Lupin obeyed and drank carefully, and after some minutes – during which Severus had put on a dressing gown over his nightshirt and sat down on the chair next to Lupin's bed – he opened his eyes again.
"Thank you." Lupin tried to smile at Severus, but he failed and finally looked away, apparently feeling at least as uneasy and insecure as Severus did.
"Poppy told me you would stay for some days," Lupin finally said softly. "How are you feeling?"
"Close to undead. Or at least I suppose that's how it must feel. I certainly look like it." Severus hadn't bothered with the Glamour Charm, and he wouldn't put it on during his stay. It would be no more than a waste of energies, since Lupin and Madam Pomfrey were able to look through it anyway. "And what about you?"
"The same, actually. I didn't think it could be worse than last time, but it seems I was wrong."
They were silent for a little while, but finally, Lupin turned and looked at him.
"Severus . . . I need to talk to you about what happened. Please, will you listen?"
Severus nodded, and even this small gesture made Lupin look as if a rock had just rolled off his chest.
"Thank you." He took a deep breath. "I . . . I don't really know how to start. I know you're angry with me, and I can understand that. I lied to you and . . . I hurt you." The words were nothing more than a low murmur, tired and sad, and Severus could hardly stand it. "But I never . . . I didn't mean it to happen like that. I just thought . . . I was afraid -"
"No, stop it, Lupin!"
Lupin fell silent, his expression dejected.
"You needn't tell me," Severus said. He'd wanted to hear an explanation from Lupin, and an apology. In a way, he had considered it some kind of revenge for what had happened. But now, hearing him stumble over his own words, ashamed and desperate for Severus to believe him, he could not take it to see Lupin like that. Not when he could spare him all this.
"I know what you want to say. That you didn't think I could cope with you seeing me like that. That you were scared to lose me if you told me all that had happened. That you need me as . . . as a friend. And that you're sorry."
Lupin stared at him in confusion.
"Isn't that right? Wasn't that what you wanted to tell me?"
Finally, Lupin found his voice again. "Yes! I . . . I was such an idiot!"
"No." Severus shook his head. "You made a mistake, that's true. And I was hurt and I felt betrayed. But I had time to think about it, and I realised that I overreacted. I do accept your apology."
It hadn't been easy to say – although Severus meant it, a small part of the hurt and doubt had still not fully vanished. But the grateful expression on Lupin's pale face made him forget about it immediately.
"Thank you, Severus. I'm . . . very happy right now."
"Me too." That was an easy admission, because it was entirely true. Severus hadn't felt this good in far too long a time.
Like the evening before, he reached out and took Lupin's hand into his own. It seemed natural, like a gesture to seal their reconciliation, and after some surprised seconds, Lupin returned the squeeze.
"But how did you know?" Lupin finally asked with a slight frown. "You didn't use Legilimency on me, did you?"
"Of course not!" Severus felt insulted for a moment, but it didn't last. There were not many other explanations. "You told me already," he went on in a calmer tone. "Everything you wanted to say, you'd already said yesterday evening."
Lupin looked confused. "I don't remember."
"Well, it's not that surprising. You were drugged with painkillers and healing potions, and you were hallucinating." For a moment, Severus wondered if he even should tell Lupin everything, but not doing it would mean he'd just be making the same kind of mistake that Lupin had made.
"You thought I was Black. You thought that you were dreaming of him, and you told 'him' about what had happened, and how you felt about it."
"Oh." Lupin didn't seem to know what to say. "I hope I didn't say anything too stupid."
"Not really. Except fot the part about Black being supposed to have become wiser in death."
Lupin shook his head slightly, unable to hide his amusement. "I suppose some things will never change." Then he added, completely out of the blue: "But there's one thing that's really unbearable about this whole situation."
"What?" Severus had no idea what he meant.
"That you're still calling me 'Lupin'. You are aware of the fact that everyone has a first name, aren't you?"
Lupin was smiling, and Severus suddenly found that there were few things in the world he liked more than this sight. He looked down at their entwined fingers, and a smile stole onto his lips as well.
"Remus, then."
It sounded just right.