Chapter 2

The cold dawn air made Remus Lupin shiver and he turned over, intending to sleep awhile longer. Unfortunately, the bare wooden floor wouldn't let him return to slumber and with a heavy head and complaining body he opened his eyes and sat up. He was getting too old for this. The transforming was always going to put him out of joint but in the past few years he'd begun to suspect it wasn't that which left him with niggling aches and pains throughout the month so much as spending a few hours on the floor. Well, he was approaching forty, what could he expect? He clambered to his feet and reached through the bars for his wand.

The hot shower always helped rid him of the worst of the pain and this morning he lingered, stretching with his hands over his head, touching his toes, twisting his shoulders and even performing a few squat thrusts he'd once seen recommended in a Muggle magazine. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror he regarded himself through the evaporating mist. Tawny coloured eyes looked back at him. His hair, once strawberry blond, was now flecked with grey. He had been all too relieved to discover he could still grow a fine auburn beard, a necessity for his recent mission to the werewolves who shunned human society. He'd have to cut it off soon, Sirius said he looked like a pirate, but for now Remus liked the facial hair. He thought it lent him a rugged masculinity otherwise obscured by his average height and wiry frame. Back in Regulus' bedroom, now his, Remus put on some boxers and an old Sex Pistols tee shirt he couldn't bear to part with. From the back of the bedroom door he took his dressing gown, a warm tartan one he'd valued at Hogwarts, put on some slippers - borrowed from Sirius - and headed downstairs. His plan was toast, camomile tea and a return to bed. The house was quiet and Remus turned into the kitchen and switched on the wind up radio. He'd always liked listening to Muggle radio, perhaps because it reminded him of his parents and their love of wireless comedy. He liked to keep informed about the Muggle world despite Sirius' scorn, which Remus put it down to the casual bigotry at which his friend was so adept. Not that Sirius hated Muggles, or wished them harm. Rather it was just that he took no interest in their culture or way of life. After the first war, when the loss of his friends made him desperate, Remus had lived quietly as a Muggle and had developed a taste for, among other things, punk, romantic comedies and Tristram Shandy.

Tea and toast in hand Remus was lost in his own thoughts as he entered the sitting room. The acrid smell of smoke as he opened the door he initially put down to overdoing the toast but before he looked up the smell of blood, recently shed, made his heart palpitate. The couch was back where it had been the day before and the room was as clean and ordered as it always was when Molly had chivvied Sirius and Remus into housework. Ordered, except for that armchair that was pulled up close to the couch. In the chair slept Severus Snape, head fallen forward onto his chest. He held a hand limply in his own, the hand of a young woman Remus knew. Bruises had emerged over Isolde's face and one eye was swollen. In addition to blood Remus could also smell something medicinal. He was relieved to see that she was breathing deeply and slowly. "Severus?" The Potions Master jerked awake and looked blearily at Remus. The werewolf couldn't remember seeing Severus look so bad, not even after he returned from the Death Eaters, his body tingling with the aftereffects of Crucio. Now Snape had dark circles under his eyes, which were struggling to focus. A vein throbbed in his temple and a day's worth of black stubble covered his chin and neck. "What?" Snape's voice was hoarse but no less acerbic than usual.

"I've made some tea and toast. It looks like you need it more than I do."

"Perhaps if you had not waken me, wolf, I could survive without your clucking."

"Make your mind up Severus, am I a wolf or a chicken?" Snape only grunted and rolled his neck to rid him of his crick.

"Here, take the toast, you'll only get Molly bothering you if you resist my tender ministrations."

A harrumph was the only reply Lupin received but the food was taken and Snape began to eat. Remus stepped closer to the couch to move a stray hair off Isolde's face.

"How long has it been since you last saw her?"

"Four years."

"Will she recover?"

"I don't know. It may take some time." Snape put down the empty plate and reached for the tea. "Camomile? You are a cliche Lupin."

"I'll have it then." Remus took the mug out of Severus' hand and they brushed fingers for an instant. Snape's hand was cold and, now that Lupin noticed it, he was trembling slightly. Snape looked fixedly at Isolde, avoiding Lupin's eye.

"What happened?"

Severus related the previous night's events and tried to recover his poise. The idea that a shabby werewolf should look at him with such pity was intolerable. As he described the extent of Isolde's wounds he took pleasure in seeing Lupin pale and grow serious. The man's sunny disposition was altogether too much to bear, as it had been at Hogwarts two years earlier. That episode, Lupin's resignation, was never referred to by either of them, a fact for which Snape was grateful, for he was less sanguine about his behaviour than he would have appear. "What will you do now?" Lupin's question interrupted Severus' train of thought.

"Remain of course. It is the weekend, I will not be missed by the school and must be here when she wakes."

"I see. Severus, can I be honest with you?"

"Can I stop you?"

Lupin flashed one of his infuriating grins. "You look like hell. Seriously. I've been through a transformation and I am housewife's fancy Gilderoy Lockhart compared to you. Stay, by all means, but sort yourself out or you'll be no good to her when Isolde comes back." Severus felt bone weary. Two days earlier he'd been called to a sudden meeting of Death Eaters, where the Dark Lord had Crucio'd him, seemingly just for fun. All day Friday he'd been dealing with the aftereffects, agonisingly sensitive skin, a pounding heart and nerves on fire. He was sure that a normal witch or wizard would be recuperating in St Mungo's but exposure to torture and Severus' mettle permitted him to function almost normally less than twelve hours after the curse had been performed. The day before he'd also been in a state of considerable nervous excitement, anxious to hear when Isolde had returned and increasingly distressed as the hours ticked by. Not that anyone except Dumbledore would have noticed. A record number of detentions were handed out and Neville Longbottom had been tasked to pick rare herbs from the Forbidden Forest with two equally inept students for help.

"What do you suggest I do?"

"There's a shower upstairs. The hot water is plentiful. You can sleep in the room first door on the right. The bedding is Egyptian cotton. When you wake - whenever that may be - Molly will provide a veritable feast. While you do all these things I will watch Isolde. At the slightest change in her condition I will fetch you."

"You want me to sleep in your room?" Snape said with an arched eyebrow, which it took all his effort to raise.

"For fuck's sake Severus, I offer you a clean place to sleep that is all."

"And you will watch her?"

"Of course." Remus was amused to watch contrary impulses speed across Snape's face. His exhaustion was obvious as was his desire to freshen up. Remus was too well brought up to point out that Snape's robes were covered in dried blood. Yet against the advantages of his offer Remus could see Snape do battle with his desire to owe no-one, least of all him, any favours. Eventually, proximity to Isolde won out. "Very well."

Lupin had made slight effort to mark Regulus' bedroom as his own. Severus surmised that the werewolf had little in the way of possessions. Again, a niggle of conscience worried him as he remembered how he had contributed to Lupin's impoverishment. At least he was still making the Wolfsbane every month, he had hardly ruined the werewolf's life. As Severus divested himself of his bloodstained robes he thought back to the period, two years earlier and the nascent friendship that had its genesis in the monthly delivery of Wolfsbane. Curt nods and tart remarks had rapidly developed into an accord between the two teachers. Often Severus would stay for tea, or firewhisky in Lupin's rooms and once, they'd shared dinner. Isolde was writing less and less frequently and Severus had begun to feel a severe lack of affable company. Initially they had spoken about potions, the challenges of the Wolfsbane and broader developments in advanced potion theory. Severus remembered that Lupin had always possessed a keen mind. Once they had exhausted academic subjects they'd moved on to literature, Lupin lending Severus modern novels and the Potions Master urging the werewolf to read Shakespeare's sonnets and tragedies. They always avoided discussion of their schooldays, painful to them both, particularly the episode that had nearly killed one and imprisoned the other. The memory of that night from twenty years before made Severus shiver as he shed his undergarments and wrapped a fluffy towel around his waist. This tentative friendship had been destroyed by the return of Sirius Black and the deciding factor that had swung Snape in favour of remaining at Grimmauld Place was the thought of the outrage it would provide Black to know he'd a hated houseguest.

As the water caressed his tense shoulders and over-sensitised skin Severus examined the shower gels on offer. After using a two-in-one shampoo and conditioner which smelled of menthol and made his scalp tingle Severus had a choice between a navy blue offering, designed to appeal to athletic and muscly men, and a brightly coloured green bottle which claimed to be stuffed full of mint leaves. It was blindingly obvious whose was whose, only a man as adolescent as Black would want to be affirmed in his masculinity even by his shower gel. Snape snorted in derision as he reached for the mint. A quick flick of the wand shed him of his unsightly stubble and after concluding the rest of his ablutions Severus was forced to admit that he had indeed looked like death warmed up. Returning to Regulus' bedroom Severus saw that Lupin had been in to provide him with clean bedding and had left him a note. It read:

Dear Severus, I hope you don't mind but I've taken the liberty of removing your clothes so they can be scourgified by the time you wake. I think the blood stains will come out; if I can't work it out Molly will take it as a challenge. I've asked Minerva to pack a few items for you in case you end up staying longer than expected. In the meantime I've left some clothes of mine you're welcome to wear until yours are returned to you. There's also a draught of Dreamless Sleep by the bed. Remus.

Against his better judgement Severus adjusted a tee shirt and pair of boxers for size - he was both taller and broader than Lupin - and pulled them on. The tee shirt was well worn and read 'Joy Division'. Snape neither knew, nor cared what it meant. Climbing under the soft covers he swigged the potion and was swiftly asleep.