Chapter two: Denial
Severus wasn't worried. If the wolf wanted to starve himself, far be it from Severus to intervene. Even if Lupin was already terribly skinny and waifish. Even if he sometimes heard strange sounds and thuds coming from upstairs where he knew the man's room was. Even if the full moon was coming up. Lupin could take care of himself. Severus wasn't worried.
The day before the full moon, he found himself doing his usual stroll through the house. He just went back and forth between rooms, pulled random books off shelves just to flip through a few pages and put it back, he made faces at the portraits and there was even a dent in the corner of his room where he just beat his head against the wall. He couldn't remember a summer he was more bored. Or more distracted. He tried reading volumes of all genres and topics, but found himself nodding off. He tried experimenting with potions, but found he was just uninterested. He even tried imagining various ways to piss Potter off this upcoming year, but even that was less than entertaining. He found himself sneaking looks at Lupin's door a lot. This seemed a daily routine until it was late enough he was able to call it a day.
This day he found himself in the kitchen with a cookbook in front of him and an apron on just for kicks. Severus flipped through the thin pages until he inadvertently came across a recipe for chicken and mushroom puff pie. He remembered Molly Weasley made it once and though he ate nothing, the wolf inhaled it and praised the dish. Severus chewed on the inside of his cheek and looked up towards that room before getting out the ingredients needed. Lupin was going to eat if he had to force feed him.
Two hours later that delicious smell pervaded the air as he pulled them out of the oven. Severus paced the kitchen for a few minutes, mentally playing out what he was going to say. He couldn't let the man think he cared, because he didn't. But, he couldn't let him starve either. He flexed his hands out and then into a fist and out again. He drove them through his hair. He even jumped up and down a few times. That was when he drew the line and walked up stairs with a deep breath.
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Remus was sitting on his bathroom floor, his back against the tub and a shard of glass in his hand, when he heard Snape's routine start. He had never before thought about him being bored. He thought that if he was watching he might find it amusing. He could hear the man's steps and heard them trail into the kitchen. He briefly wondered if he had made the Wolfsbane, but then decided he didn't care.
He was feeling the moon. His muscles ached in anticipation for what was to come, his head pounded and he felt weak, but he didn't care. He ignored the wolf, instead choosing to calm himself in his new found cure. He'd never thought of it before, balked at the idea and discouraged others the best he could. But he didn't understand. There was something amazing in it. In watching the blood from his wrist drip he wasn't berating himself for not being able to save his friends from death, Harry from his relatives, or himself from the monster within. He didn't feel the need to scream and sob at the same time. He was perfectly content to stay transfixed at his own ministrations against himself.
Then Remus heard Snape knock. How did he not hear his steps from the kitchen? Snape knocked again, each knock even and controlled. Like the new, red parallel lines on his wrist. It gave him the same effect and he sort of smiled. Then it registered that for Snape to be knocking, that meant he needed to open the door. He grabbed a towel and held it to his arm, disappointed he wouldn't be able to see it, and held his covered arm to his body before answering the door.
"Severus!" He said, slightly out of breath. "What did you need?"
The man blinked at his brusqueness. "I thought it might interest you to know I cooked."
So? Why was he here? Remus wasn't hungry. He had been living off of a few chocolate frogs and was happy staying in the room. "Right." He said. Surely Snape didn't just come here to celebrate this as an accomplishment.
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Severus didn't know what was going on, but something was off. Lupin wasn't being the infuriatingly cheerful person he'd come to know and loathe. And he was being careful to keep the door just open enough to stick his head out. He tried not to act as though he found this suspicious. But he did.
"Yes," he said slowly. "Chicken and mushroom puff pie. I thought you might like to join me?"
He watched Lupin's eye twitch and narrowed his own. What was going on? The wolf grinded his teeth slightly and nodded.
"Right, of course." He consented. "Just let me throw a shirt on."
Severus blinked, not having noticed he wasn't already wearing one, but now that he did notice his cheeks turned a slight shade of pink.
"Of course."
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Remus shut the door and punched a hole through the wall. He had tried to be civil to the Potions Master and had been rebuffed at every turn, why now when he just wanted to be alone did he have to make him leave his solitude? He went to the basin to rinse his arm off and caught a look at himself. There were dark circles under his eyes, darker than they'd ever been, his skin was sallow and sickly looking, his bones were jagged- poking out of his skin, his eyes looked wild and dead at the same time. Then he couldn't see his reflection through the broken mirror shards. His fist bled, but he couldn't let himself get distracted by that. All the blood rinsed off, Remus bandaged himself with gauze and tugged on a thin, long-sleeved shirt.
He would, under normal circumstances, be salivating. Instead the smell made him sick and he wanted to escape back to his bathroom where he was happier. This was his favorite dish, did Snape know? He scoffed at himself. Of course he knew. He was a spy, his life depended on how well he could watch people- and wasn't he just telling Molly a few months before? Lily's was better… Remus only just stopped himself from throwing a vase as he walked by.
"It looks delicious," he said in a toneless voice. Snape nodded and began to eat his own, wearily keeping a watch on the wolf.
Remus could feel his eyes as he strategically pushed his food around, taking the teeniest of bites here and there. Any other time and he would have already been on his second helping, but now he was just counting down to when he could declare himself done and go back upstairs. He had three hours to the moon.
"Your Wolfsbane is ready for you," Severus said, uncharacteristically casual. "You should drink it once you're done."
Taking the opportunity, Remus pushed his plate away. "I'm done."
"You've hardly eaten anything."
"I'm not hungry."
Severus narrowed his eyes. "So you haven't been hungry at all? For two weeks?"
"Is there a problem with that?" He growled. Why was he being pushy? Did Dumbledore send him to babysit? Of course he did, because Remus can't take care of himself. He can't take care of anyone.
"Absolutely not," the Slytherin said casually. "If you want to starve to death, be my guest."
"Oh, well thank you for your bloody permission!" Remus stormed upstairs. Why did Snape have to be here? He was happy on his own.
Remus walked in a daze to the bathroom and took his seat against the tub.
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Severus watched the seat the wolf had previously occupied with a dumbstruck expression. He had never actually seen him like this. Even in their youth he was amicable to everything and everyone. Now it was like a switch had been flipped. He didn't miss the extra padding under his left sleeve. So it was like that, was it? Later in his own room, after watching Lupin drink his Wolfsbane without his customary grimace, he studied his own left wrist. The scars remained after all these years. Poppy had once offered to take care of them for him, and he knew he could do it himself, but they reminded himself of how weak he'd once been. He drew strength from them.
He heard a howl and jumped, his pulse racing. What did he care if Lupin wanted to self-harm? Then again, what did he care if Black was dead?