Chapter 3

At 9 o'clock Sirius Black learned he'd given houseroom to a man he loathed. At 10 o'clock Molly told Sirius to stop sulking and see to the Grindylows on the top floor. At lunchtime Remus Lupin devoured a ham and mustard baguette, a bowl of chicken soup, two packets of crisps, half a dozen chocolate biscuits and a pint of tea, his napping by Isolde's bedside having distracted him from his appetite. Molly looked alarmed, Remus shot her a lupine grin, he was always ravenous after a transformation. With Mrs Weasely installed in the sitting room to keep watch on the patient Remus decided to get some fresh air by tackling 12 Grimmauld Place's garden, which he was trying to bring under control. Before that though he decided to look in on Severus.

The sound from Sirius' bedroom across the hall indicated that the host was in a melancholic mood, and taking no trouble to keep his music quiet. Sighing in irritation Remus stepped into his bedroom. Snape lay still and motionless under the covers of the four poster. Remus was relieved to see that the potion had been drunk and amused that Snape had chosen the least colourful tee shirt to wear. When deeply asleep Snape's face relaxed and the ever-present scowl was replaced with an expression more serene. While Severus could never be described as handsome there was something arresting about his face. He had long black eyelashes and a nose that threatened to overpower his other features. His eyebrows were black too, and neat, ready to spike in an expression of scorn or, rarer, amusement. The lines etched onto his forehead were less deep now making him seem younger and more vulnerable. Remus had always had a sneaking admiration for Snape's high angular cheekbones; his own face was rounded and, Remus worried, would run to fat with too much more of Molly's cooking. Snape's chin jutted out and above it those lips, oddly sensual and tinged with red. While a teacher at Hogwarts Remus had amused himself to imagine Severus applying a pink fruity lip balm between classes. Snape's mouth was used to smirking but that rarer motion, a grin or full smile, transformed his face. Remus remembered being thrilled the only time he'd elicited a full throated bark of a laugh from the Potions Master. If only it hadn't been at his expense; the third firewhisky had dulled his senses after the Yuletide Ball and he hadn't noticed that his tatty dress robes were dangling in his fireplace. Even after Severus had put out the fire he had continued to laugh until tears were streaming out of his eyes. Remus smiled sadly as he looked at Snape's sleeping form; he couldn't imagine the taller man being so relaxed to laugh now. Whispering 'Muffliato' to keep out the worst of Sirius' music Remus headed downstairs and thought of his flower beds.

Sirius had been unimpressed to discover that Snape was using his house as his own, and less impressed still to find he wasn't permitted to be angry about it. After blasting a couple of Grindylows in disconsolate fashion he had started writing a letter to Harry but he was struggling to marshal his thoughts. Sirius was always anxious not to upset Harry by communicating his depressive mood; it was a marker of his melancholic state that he failed to see that even his most upbeat letters looked considerably sadder when read by the recipient. However, even he could see that having a Snape in the house was hardly conducive to domestic happiness. Scrunching up his fifth piece of parchment he gravitated toward his old record collection. Music was the only thing Sirius could appreciate about Muggle culture and at school in the late 70s and early 80s he'd delighted in styling himself a punk, though he understood none of the attendant political values and beliefs. Rather, it was an excellent way to upset his parents and Regulus. Looking out his bedroom window he saw Remus doing battle with some weeds at the far end of the garden. Typical. How could the man be so placidly accepting of this house? At least he was still sent on missions, was still of some use. From below he smelled chicken soup, dinner would raise his spirits.

The kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place was furnished with a heavy oak table. Severus sat in the corner, with a view of the garden, trying to restrain himself from drinking the soup straight out of the pot. He hadn't eaten properly for days. Being Crucio'd gave one an unpleasant awareness of the jagged progress of food through one's guts and he'd taken to relying on revivifying potions of his own concoction in preference to actual sustenance. The kitchen clock tolled 5 just as Sirius bounded into the room. "Where's Molly?" "Next door." The silence stretched out between them. Both were relieved when Remus entered through the back door. "I shan't be able to see for much longer. These winter transformations are hell, the moon is present for such a bloody long time. Severus - do you think the Wolfsbane could be adapted to take account for that?"

"It is... possible."

"Great. Sirius - have you eaten? Molly's made some soup, it's fantastic."

"No I... I thought I'd have some now."

"Jolly good. I might have some too. I've been hungry all day." Sirius and Remus availed themselves of soup and bread and sat at the table. Severus had already resumed eating and seemed as keen to get out of there as possible. Sirius took a mouthful of bread to soothe his grumbling stomach and asked "Has there been any change?"

"No." It was Remus who answered. "She seems to be in a very deep sleep, not potion-induced and we don't know when, or if," - Remus looked apologetically at Severus "it might end."

"Who is she?"

Severus looked straight at Sirius and answered, with a touch of defiance, "She is Isolde Snape." Sirius could hardly believe it, but he supposed it all made sense, Snape's look of terror as he arrived last night, his commitment to stay with her through the early hours, the throb in his temple as Remus admitted the possibility that she might not recover. But, she was attractive, far more so than Snape, how could she put up with him? And anyway, teachers at Hogwarts weren't allowed to marry, unless Dumbledore gave some kind of special dispensation and God knows he looks kindly enough upon Snivellus. This was too strange. Already in the short hours since Isolde had collapsed on his doorstep Sirius had felt an affinity for her, a desire to know her and all this time, he was daydreaming about Snape's wife? Sirius, who had been inhaling a mouthful of soup choked on Snape's words and had to be smacked on the back by Lupin until he'd stopped coughing.

"Isolde Snape?"

"What of it?"

"But when... how...?"

By this time Lupin had started to laugh which earned him glares from the other two. "Sirius, Severus isn't married to Isolde. He's her uncle."

That evening Dumbledore returned to 12 Grimmauld Place and a rota was instituted. Given the fragility of Isolde's state it was decided that she would require twenty-four hour care. Every day Molly would sit with the patient from 8 - 2 pm at which point Sirius would take over from 2 - 8, handy for him as he tended to be a late riser. Remus volunteered to take charge from 8 - 2 in the morning - the full moon was far away - and Severus, who refused to be excluded from the arrangements would be in the armchair from 2 am until Molly relieved him the next morning. This way he could get back to Hogwarts for breakfast and no-one would suspect he'd been out of the castle. The main advantage of the plan was that Sirius and Severus were kept apart. These arrangements having been put in place life resembled something like normality at the Order's headquarters. Molly ran errands from the sitting room and ensured Isolde was clean and her obvious wounds were healing. Sirius tended to play the patient music and told her stories about his schooldays and Harry's adventures. He felt his spirits lift at the prospect that the young woman might hear him. Remus would work quietly on the research he'd picked up again with access to the impressive Black library. Occasionally he'd take Isolde's hand and ask her to return to them. Severus turned up tired from a day's teaching and an evening's labours. He would stroke Isolde's forehead, talk to her of their time together and, when he felt the house was quiet, he would sob silently before falling into sleep.

An unexpected consequence of the rota was the resumption of Snape and Lupin's tentative amity. It began on the fourth day. The previous nights Snape had asked for an update and then dismissed Lupin with a terse nod, a habit that was beginning to irritate the werewolf. This night though Snape made no such movement and instead slumped into the armchair. "Difficult day, Severus?"

"Difficult would not begin to describe it. More idiocy in the corridors, I have handed out detentions as frequently as you used to award points. The detentions held up my work this evening; Longbottom exploded a cauldron and I did not even get near preparing the Wolfsbane ingredients till gone eleven. Do not worry," Snape looked at Remus blankly "it shall be done in time."

"I have perfect faith in you Severus." A grunt was the only response to this. "I need to. Your potion is the only thing that keeps me from killing someone."

"And the steel bars."

"Well, yes, and the cage but nevertheless... You do like to make things difficult for yourself Severus. All those detentions, are they really necessary?"

"They are if you'd rather keep order than win a popularity contest."

"No fear there, only the Slytherins would vote for you. I don't think you'll be toppling Dumbledore from his perch anytime soon."

"And what did it give you, Lupin? The adoration of your students?"

Remus, who had stood to leave now took his seat again on a pouffe near the makeshift bed. "In truth, not so very much. It feels nice initially, to be popular, I suppose it always does. But none of the students knew me, knew what I was. I was just the teacher who gave them fun homework and free chocolate. And, when they knew what I was, they feared me."

Snape was chewing his lip and seemed to find it hard to look Remus in the eye. "What I did, Lupin, I regret it." The words seemed to have been wrung out the Potions Master and for a moment Lupin didn't know what to say. He'd never heard Snape apologise before.

"Thank you Severus. For what it's worth, I should have expected it to get out at some point. Bright students could work it out easily enough. After all, James and Sirius did all those years ago and you knew by the time... by the time it happened." Remus found it difficult to talk about Sirius' prank from twenty years before. Severus nodded sadly and neither could think of any more to say. Remus was almost out of the door when he was struck by a thought and turned "Severus? Call me Remus."

"As you wish."

Another week went by and the traveller's condition did not change. Hushed conversations in the kitchen began to map out the long-term strategy were Isolde to remain in her coma-like state. These conversations were kept from Snape who seemed convinced in his belief, contrary to all evidence, that she would soon wake. Visitors to headquarters who knew Isolde, Moody and Tonks in particular, would sit for a while when they could spare it, and remind the patient of her adventures as an Auror.

For an hour every night after Lupin's shift had ended he would sit up with Snape discussing the day's events in the castle. Getting a sense of life at Hogwarts proved enjoyable for Lupin and he discovered that Snape had a shrewd, one might say anthropological eye for student behaviour. One night Snape related a setback in his Advanced Potions class when Martha Trescothick (a Ravenclaw) and Athelred Kelhyne (a Slytherin) fell out over the best way to store Bubotuber puss, landing them both in detention. "Are you going to get them to work out their differences after class?"

"Of course not."

"But how will they work together?"

"Lu - Remus, they will be dating by the end of the week."

"How can you possibly know that?"

"By long experience. You would like evidence?"

"Convince me." Snape steepled his fingers in what Lupin had come to recognise as his teaching mode. "One: Kelhyne has been cruel about Trescothick's appearance twice in my hearing in the past week. He has been broadcasting his dislike of her. Two: Trescothick has been flirting with Edgar Mumptious, a Hufflepuff 7th year. It is the talk of the school."

"This is evidence of nothing. Kelhyne genuinely hates Trescothick, why else would he get so worked up about puss? And the girl fancies somebody else."

"You do not understand the contextual data. Three: Kelhyne's behaviour is consistent with his house. This is how Slytherins flirt, or did Slytherins never flirt with you?"

"Well it seems I wouldn't have known if they had!"

"Four: Edgar Mumptious is a Hufflepuff, even a 7th year is barely equal to Trescothick. She has scanned the school looking for someone to make Kelhyne jealous and she has picked the most asinine, gentlemanly, honourable bore she could find."

"Why can't they just confess their attraction to one another?"

Snape rolled his eyes and snorted in amusement, "Because, you berk, they are sixteen years old."

"Right, lets make this interesting. If Martha and Athelred have found true love - with each other mind! - within a week I will... I will take a shift from you. I give you the chance for a night in your own bed."

"And if I am wrong?"

"You... you will bite your tongue around Sirius for the next three Order meetings."

"You ask too much."

"Oh come on Severus. You can still scowl at him just... just hold your peace, for a bit."

"Agreed."