Disclaimer: See prologue

A/N: Hello my lovely little minskies. Thanks for the reviews. Aren't you lucky that I'm still on vacation? Otherwise I wouldn't- no chance in heck -be updating so quickly since last chapter. On a completely differnt subject: 30 secs thinking time to commemorate Heath Ledger. The smart and talented ones do have an unfortunate tendency to die young. - Isa

Chapter five – "Back to the flat"

Remus woke up with a hangover. It wasn't until he decided to skip breakfast after having smelled the unappetizing odour when opening the fridge door that he remembered that he had left his voice transcriptor at Snape's. Now he couldn't actually remember much of what Snape had explained about his research the night before, but he did know that he had had the presence of mind to record it. He also vaguely remembered agreeing to participate in an experiment. 'Not very smart to have accepted that offer while drunk, was it?' He thought wryly. He decided to call Snape to ask when he could pick up his forgotten possession. Predictably, no one answered. 'Must be at the lab.'

After having spent the day sitting in his usual café, meeting up with fellow students, Remus decided that he would not only try to pick up the transcriptor, but also invite Snape to a meal. He figured that this would be the most tactful way to buy some time to possibly weasel out of having Snape experiment on him. He called the lab, and no one answered. 'He must be at home already then, I'll just stop by.' So he made his way to the flat.

There was of course yet another reason for him to make such an effort. He had been captivated by Narcissa-the-coffe-table, as Snape had called her. He wasn't sure now if she hadn't been part of the strange alcohol-sodden dreams he had had.

He got to the door, and rang the bell. Having been programmed so as to let Lucius in for deliveries, the doorbell admitted anyone who had been let in "manually" before. So it was to Remus' surprise that he found himself facing an empty hallway as he was let in.

"Mr. Snape?" he called.

No answer. Exceedingly unnerved 'this man's door must be defective…' Remus mad his way to the room where, if he remembered correctly, his transcriptor lay. He went in the first door, not being certain of which one was correct, and found himself face to face with Narcissa's body. He moved forward. 'Not the right room.' He smiled to himself. After having gazed at her for a while, he went to look for the right room. The walls were cream coloured. 'He must not be home, unless he's asleep…' Remus thought.

He found his recording device on the real coffee table. Something was strange though. If Snape had indeed been sleeping, wouldn't he have heard him call out, when he first came in? He decided to check what he assumed was Snape's bedroom, just in case. There, connected to the IV, on a red single bed lay the strange young scientist. 'He's wearing black. How odd. He really must be somewhat mental…' Remus thought. He went up to Snape, thinking he would just tell him that he had stopped by.

"Mr. Snape" he whispered, touching the man's shoulder. No reaction.

Remus checked the IV bag. It contained basic nutrients, meaning that Snape wasn't on medication or sedatives. The unconsciousness must have been caused by something else then. Looking around, he saw the pillbox. 'So he is a junkie. Not that that's a surprise.' Suddenly, a certain annoyance came over him. Was Snape experimenting on himself? In that case, how could his studies be valid at all? Wasn't he also damaging his brain? And further more, was this the drug that he had intended to give him?

He decided to increase this IV flow, hoping that it would wash the drug out of Snape's blood faster and that he would come to. In the meantime he would, however, order dinner.

Snape woke up and thought he was hallucinating. What was that horrid smell? It seemed that the neighbours had ordered some kind of foul fast food, and in huge amounts, judging by the intensity of the smell in HIS flat. He made a mental note to cook sardines on the balcony in the near future to get back at them.

He sat up and removed the needle, still preoccupied with his the various questions his trip had raised. Then he noticed it: odd that he should have used up all of the nutrient solution in the bag. How long had he been out? Then, he shivered and turned around. Lupin was sitting in the corner, eating a slice of what seemed to be disgustingly greasy pizza.

"What, may I ask, in heaven's name are you doing here?" Snape meant to shout, but only managed to croak.

Lupin set down his food, a tired and wary expression on his face. 'Amazing how much he can look like his werewolf counterpart.' Snape thought, recognizing the drawn look Lupin had, whenever he had to deal with something unpleasant. He walked up to Snape and grabbed his IV-bruised arm.

"Is this what you're going to do to me?" He asked.

"Not quite." Snape answered darkly. "You haven't answered my question, what are you doing here? Who let you in?" And the he groaned. "Nevermind that one, I know how you got in."

Snape noticed Lupin staring at his pillbox intently. He felt he should explain himself, for he had understood that his reaction now would determine his being able to work with this intruder.

"Listen, this is for recreational purposes. I take very high doses of this drug, but that's because I'm…" he was going to say "used to it", but though the better of it.

"Addicted?" Lupin tried, helpfully.

"No!" Snape barked. And then "Well, yes in a manner of speaking, and you may be too. Look, would you just please go finish your food somewhere else and let me get my head straight, hmm?"

Lupin obeyed, but was puzzled. How could he be addicted to the stuff. He'd never touched drugs in his life! And anyhow, they were very hard to come by. Snape must have VERY shady connections to be able to sustain a habit. Then he remembered Narcissa's story. Right, well at least he knew which connections. That was already good. He finished chewing. He couldn't help smiling to himself remembering the face Snape had just made while asking him to eat elsewere. 'Must be a bit of a food-snob. He can bloody well cook though.' He heard faint noises of clothes falling to the floor and thought that he might go into the kitchen, rather than stay in the hall incase the junkie wished to shower, in which case he would have to go to a different room. He had no wish to see Snape naked. Well, that wasn't entirely true, it had been so long since he had seen anyone naked, so actually, he would be a start. Remus mentally slapped himself. Sure enough, he heard Snape's door open, stomps down the hall and the bathroom door open and close, then the shower. Remus decided to look through the spice cupboard. He found the usual cinnamon, pepper, salt and chilli, but also a variety of other weird things like mace, garam masala, harissa, ras el Hanout and other unlabled powders and even some shrivelled pickled plums.

He opened various jars of powders and smelled them and then it hit him, like déjà vu, but even harder, and somehow more real, as if not only sight, but all his other sense had been involved: a slightly damp and mouldy smelling firelit space. A scrubbed wooden table underhand. Fire smoke and crackling. Pickled things suspended in jars on shelves lining the walls around him. A goblet containing a harsh smelling beverage and then…and then, an orange flicker in black eyes half hidden by long dark, greasy smelling hair.

Before he could hold on to all this, it was gone, as soon as it had come, but he was certain now that he would not have had that kind of mind-image or whatever one could call it any other place than here and he knew that it had to do with Snape. He set down the still open box that he had been smelling when he had the vision. 'Good Lord, his madness is contagious.' Remus thought, rubbing the bridge of his nose. For something to do, he lit the candle 'How very bizarre' that was on the kitchen table. Suddenly he heard Snape coming into the room. He felt light headed.

"Your eyes! I've just seen them!" Remus cried out in shock and keeled over backwards.

Utterly bewildered, Snape bent over the unconscious Lupin and gently slapped him.

"Wake up, snap out of it man." He said more gruffly than he wanted. The practise of tending to an invalid was just so utterly foreign to him, after all. At a loss for anything else to do, he stretched Lupin out on the kitchen floor, so as to prevent him tensing up or hitting his head again when he eventually came to. It was then that he noticed the burning candle and the open jar and spice cabinet. He couldn't suppress a chuckle. This really did make Lupin seem like a bit of a hypocrite for berating his use of drugs. Lupin stirred and gingerly rubbed the back of his head.

"How are you feeling? Did you have any nice dreams?" Snape said with an odd kind of sideways grin. Lupin just blinked, so Snape went on

"You've just inhaled some of the very same stuff that I was on just a half an hour ago. It's a hallucinogenic, Lovex, I mentioned it the other night. This was the weaker version I was going to dilute and test on you, but it seems that you beat me to it."

Lupin just groaned and closed his eyes again. He was pretty sure that his feeling poorly had more to do with hitting his read very hard on the floor when he fainted than the drug, but felt that it would be better if he could unload as much of the blame on Snape as he could.

"What the bloody heck do you keep the stuff in your kitchen for?" Lupin said.

"Well, you'll notice the spice grinder, see, that barbaric looking copper thing with the handle? That's what I use to make powder out of the pills. I grind them by hand, which takes a long time, so I figured storing the jar for the powder next to it made sense. I'm not used to other people looking through my kitchen cabinets." Snape shrugged.

Lupin opened his eyes and was met by the gaze that had startled him so. The same black eyes with the same orange flame reflected in them, this time coming from the candle. But the face around them was cleaner, younger and more visible, with the short-cropped hair. With the warmth of the candlelight, there was almost something welcoming about the stark features. The eyes were glowing with curiosity and the warmth of humour from some kind of private joke.

"So does no one else ever come round here?" Lupin asked to change the subject. Snape thought a little before choosing to answer honestly.

"Not except for my dealer, and you'd have to pay him to anywhere near a kitchen."

"Right." Lupin answered. 'Well, that would explain a few things.' He thought.

Snape helped Lupin up and seeing him clutch his head told him that he could lie down on his bed. "I'm afraid I don't have a couch, I figured armchairs would always suffice." He said. And then the grin was back. "I remember having horrid headaches after my first drug experiences. That was before I got this flat though." And then, more seriously. "You mentioned my eyes, just before you fainted." Lupin nodded. "Did you by any chance see the rest of me?" Remus nodded "Yes. And the funny thing was that you looked different. You had…" "Longish greasy hair and quite a few more lines on my face." Snape said excitedly. Lupin's eyes widened. He sat up and the motion almost dislodged Snape from the edge of the mattress where he was sitting. Remus stared long and hard into the now barely distinguishable face, hidden in the dark of the room, for they had left the lights out, due to what was becoming a heavy painful throb in his temples.

"How do I know?" Snape said. He was trying to calm his racing heartbeat. He was sure that Lupin's experience corroborated his growing theory. "Because I've seen myself like that. I've seen you too. I'd seen you before you even turned up at my flat yesterday."

He heard Lupin's sharp intake of breath and heard his own, very rapid breathing. He could barely sit still for excitement. If only he could persuade Lupin to take more Lovex, record and see his visions and compare them with his own, there was a possibility that he could prove that the drug-induced hallucinations were an objective reality all on their own. And then…the possibilities were infinte.

Remus was listening to Snape's heavy breathing. He had felt him tense through the mattress. He wasn't sure what to make of the strange statement and the silence that now followed it. He must be dreaming still, yes, that was it. Absurd really, this situation; he in some stranger's bed with a concussion and, this madman with prophetic abilities. He tried pinching himself, but just felt a numb squeeze. He reached out to touch Snape's face and in the dark he felt it. Yes, well, it was warm, the eyebrows were coarse, as was the stubble, the lips dry and chewed, the cheekbones hard under the smooth but slightly slick skin.

Snape was suddenly pulled back to the here and now by Lupin's hand going over his face. He froze, shivers going up and down his spine. He knew that this was the result of Lupin's doubting that he was indeed awake - who could blame him? - for he had experienced the same sense of confusion before. Apparently Lupin was not only more sensitive to alcohol that he was, but also to other substances.

"I'm real, Lupin." He said, amusement lining the words.

"Of course you would say that." Remus said. Snape gently took his wrist and put the exploratory hand on his jugular.

"Concentrate. See, my pulse, it's there. Seems a little too realistic to be a dream, doesn't it?"

Remus felt the pulse. Yes, it did seem a little too real. He was trying to make sense of everything. If this was reality, then he had a few things to think over, it wouldn't all just go away.

Snape sat there. He couldn't tell exactly if Lupin believed him or not, but he still hadn't removed his hand. Snape was suddenly uncomfortable. He wasn't used to human contact, at all. He was torn between unease at the idea of this being somehow intimate and the realization that there was something incredibly reassuring and wonderful about the warm hand taking note of the fact that he was alive and real. He wanted Lupin's fingers to brush over him, like they had before. At the same time there was an invisible wall that prevented him doing anything about it. He was afraid.